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[WP] Teleportation is finally invented. Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side, the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is not your friend | "This is Ray with the Tokyo team, we are ready to receive you." The Japanese team of scientist continued to run their last minute checks, they knew everything was in place but it is the human condition to worry. It had taken Ray 12 hours to fly here from California, a feat which was revolutionary only a short while ago. Now, his friend Donovan would make the same trip in less than a second.
Holding up a bag of IN-N-OUT burgers, his friend spoke with a broad smile. "Two burgers animal style with one hold the pickle. Honestly though, I think it is a travesty to ruin a great burger by taking out the pickles." Donovan, shaking his head with mock pity, moved off the large screen and directed the camera at the teleporter.
"You can try to convert me once you are here. Beginning the countdown." Ray tried to sound confident but he could not hide his nervousness. Donovan also seemed to be his relaxed self but Ray knew otherwise. Running tests on animals only gave so much assurance that it would actually work on a human.
The countdown finished, a bright flash happened simultaneously on the live feed from america along with the receiving end in Tokyo. Standing before them, burgers in hand, was his friend Donovan. The team of scientist erupted in cheering, once again, humanity had done the impossible.
Donovan embraced his friend and handed him the promised burger. Ray, barely able to chew due to his laughter, suddenly frowned as he tasted pickles. At first, he assumed this was one of Donovan's attempts to convert him but paused as he saw the man happily eating the pickle-free burger. "I find it hard to believe that after all these years you are suddenly agreeing with me." Ray spoke while eyeing his friend.
"Agree about what?" Donovan asked as he continued to eat.
"You've always refused to eat a burger without pickles..."
"Oh....Well, I suppose there is a first for everything. Besides we have more important issues to deal with." Donovan quickly changed the subject and began to answer the scientist's questions about his experience. He said there was no pain and despite feeling a little dizzy, he was otherwise fine.
"Well then, guess we can go ahead and cancel the flight back. No need to travel like neanderthals eh?" Ray joked has he butted his friend with his elbow.
"No!" Donovan screamed with terrified eyes. The entire room startled, turn to look at him. Realizing this, Donovan took a moment to regain his composure then spoke in his usual care-free manner. "I mean, we should wait to see if there are any long-term effects before I go in again. Safety first and all that, right?"
Ray nodded slowly. "I suppose you are right, Amanda will be disappointed when she hears you won't be home tonight."
Donovan gave him a blank stare, then glancing down at his ring replied in a smooth voice. "Oh well, I could always use a night away from the wife." He gave Ray a wink then turned away.
"Amanda is your daughter." Ray could not hide the worry in his voice as he approached him. "Don, did you really forget that your wife has been dead for years?"
Donovan paused and met Ray's eyes. He could see the fear, for a moment no one moved. Then, Donovan ran.
"Seal the facility now!" Ray screamed chasing after him.
Donovan did not get far before they grabbed him. The lab had a number of containment protocols for the specimen they experimented on. However, it was not until after month that Ray saw his friend again and this time, it was from the other side of a cell.
"To be honest, I do not even know where to begin." The head scientist spoke in a tired and frustrated tone. "His fingerprints are entirely different and he has no memory of the life he led before. These are certainly things to be worried about but they were within our parameters considering what we were putting him through. What really scares is....well, to be honest I am not even supposed to tell you"
"Please, I need to know." Ray spoke in a soft voice as he stared down at the man he called his friend.
The scientist sighed but continued to speak. "His blood is black and thick as tar. This was enough to terrify us but it was only the tip of the iceberg." The scientist motioned towards the room below. "His prison is actually vacuum. That thing, does not even need to breathe oxygen. In fact, we took out all the air in secret and he didn't even notice. There's more but this is all you need to know, what you are looking at is not human. I am sorry, but Donovan Rogers did not survive the experiment."
| The press was everywhere that morning. Outside our hotel door. Crammed in the elevator like sheep bleating questions. Chasing us like foxes as we navigated through the hotel lobby. All this attention made me very uncomfortable.
"Mr. Rice, Mr. Rice!" A reporter shouted from the mob that moved with us as we walked, "thoughts on today? Are you nervous? What if something goes wrong?" Glen raised his eyebrows and gave a small wave as if to say "good question, asshole." We stepped briskly out to the curb to the black town car awaiting us. A thick man in a dark suit opened the rear door and we climbed in.
"Wow." Glen muttered. "Yeah...wow." I replied, sitting down, "today is really going to be somethin' else." I always knew Glen would be the one chosen to be on the cutting edge of science. Even in high school together, he was always the one doing something no one had done before. Nineteen years later and I still thought he was a rockstar. Brilliant, handsome, charismatic. The way he took everything in stride made Denzel Washington look like Steve Harvey.
As we pulled up to the facility, I felt a horrible knot in my stomach. "Now??" I thought; frantically trying to assess the sudden pressure in my abdomen. "Do I really have to go number two--RIGHT BEFORE--Glen gets in that thing??" I held my breath, sweat forming at my brow. "Maybe it will just...resolve itself," I thought. As I clenched tightly to avoid anything dastardly escaping, Glen grabbed the handle and pushed open his door. "It's time," he said. "And don't worry if you miss the first part, just be there when I come out on the other side," he replied wryly, glancing down at my stomach. "It'll be a short one," I threw back sarcastically.
But it wasn't. As soon as we got in the building, Glen and his entourage went back to the testing area and I hurried off to find the men's room. "Of all the days" I thought sighing to myself, "why did it have to be today." I was worried for my friend. Teleportation is a scary and confusing process. I had spent dinner with Glen last night as he explained all the steps and reactions and physics behind the transport. And I spent dinner wolfing down my mushroom and swiss. Acceleration. Splitting. Re-organization. Melted cheese and Angus beef. Maybe I could have paid more attention.
Thirty-eight minutes later I emerge from the throne victorious and go off in search of Glen. I spent five minutes struggling through reporters, flashing my credentials at anyone who looked my way shouting, "I'm Ricky...Ric- GLEN'S FRIEND! Yeah!" After one last security inspection, I was permitted into the viewing area. It looked more like an operating theater. Separated by a large window was a small room complete with an examination table covered in white linen. The room was completely white with a door on the far side.
Five minutes went by. Ten minutes went by. Suddenly, the lights flicker. Moments later, I hear applause down the hall. A success. I hear people moving outside the viewing room, excited shouts, questions flying. And then I see the door swing open to the viewing room. An orderly dressed in white escorts Glen into the room and beckons him to sit.
"Glen!" I shout, stepping closer to the glass barrier, "how did it go?!" I wait cautiously, perhaps he can't hear me through the glass. "Glen?" I say again. "How did it go, man?" He raises his head slowly from the table, looks me dead in the eye and mouths the words, "Help me." Ice runs through my veins. "Help you?" I say back. He doesn't respond. Instead he stands and lumbers towards me, taking long uneven strides, unlike his normal walk. "Help me," He says again. His voice is gruff, his eyes are off. I start to panic. "Glen! Whatever it is buddy I can help you, just please tell me what happened." My hands and face are pressed against the glass, begging him to come closer, to let me in, to tell me what happened. My breaths are short and gasping--something is wrong, this is NOT my friend.
He is almost to the glass now. He drools as he places on hand against the glass and looks at me, with a vacant, uncaring gaze. "Help me" he lolls one last time. It looks like he can't breathe, he's panting harder now. "What?!" I scream, "tell me what you need!" He watches the tears roll down my face and presses his face against mine, only a few millimeters of plexiglass separating me from not-Glen. He opens his mouth and whispers..."I need about tree-fiddy."
| |
[WP] Teleportation is finally invented. Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side, the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is not your friend | It was small things at first that made me think Jon was different. He called me "dude" way too much when he used to call me "man." He suddenly knew how to cook when before he didn't know how to make ramen noodles. All things that other people could brush off, but I couldn't. I lived with him since we were in foster care together. I knew him, he knew me. Something was definitely up.
It didn't take me long to pinpoint the differences started after he came back from teleporting. I spent my entire life trying to create teleportation. It wasn't an easy road and I was constantly ridiculed for my attempts...but I finally did it. After losing all my grants and even my own lab. I moved my study to my little garage. I took out loans and poured all my own money into this. When I made the biggest breakthrough I didn't tell anyone. I wanted this to be kept to myself for now. Once it was fully tested and proved to work I would unveil it.
My life-long friend--more a brother than friend--volunteered to be the first human test subject. I told him I would go first, but he refused. He wanted me to see the results since I had the 'brain'.
I could go on and on to explain how it worked, but people always zoned out when I explained it. So in simple terms....it was made up of four pipes that all faced inward. You stand in the machine with a bracelet on. The bracelet was for communicating with the machine from the other side. It only had one button that could travel fast enough to break the speed of light, which as I discovered, meant traveling in time. When that button on the bracelet it pressed, the machine turns on and brings you back to the present time. On this end, I control everything with a computer.
He stepped in one second and stepped out the next second. It was instant. He immediately began describing what it felt like. He only went back in time a week so he didn't witness anything major. But he confirmed it was a week ago by checking some newspaper, which was strange he had to find one at all and there wasn’t a better way to confirm it.
Everything seemed normal. Naturally, it felt weird to have your body being thrown back in time, but his doctor said there was no difference. He didn't know he went back in time, of course. We kept that part a secret. But the results showed he was perfectly healthy and a great first test.
It came later that I started realizing things were different. Things seemed...off. Nothing major, nothing crazy, but for me it was certain aspects. First, it was pulling the lemon out of his water at a restaurant. Jon loved lemons...I would usually give him my lemon to add to his drink.
That's fine, tastes can change.
But he missed an episode of his favorite TV show. He canceled plans on me before because he had to watch that show without Twitter spoiling it for him. These tiny things started to add up.
What really told me he was different was how he suddenly started getting very interested in history. Reading every Wikipedia page he could muster. He had a giant stack of books next to his bed and when I borrowed his Kindle he had a multitude of non-fiction history stories.
I started to have a real fear that the crazy sci-fi story happened. One where my friend went in but a different one came out...it was too crazy though.
It was when we were grabbing some drinks in my garage going over the results, I mentioned if he would be up for another trip. He seemed very hesitant.
"If nothing went wrong, why not go again?" I inquired.
He shrugged, "What if something does though? I was willing the first time because I knew how desperate you were. But now you can bring it back to the scientific community. They can advance it with you. We don't need to take the personal risks."
It was very clear he was hiding something. He wasn't even this hesitant the first time he went. Why would he be more afraid the second time if everything worked properly?
"Hey remember that time we were hitting rocks with sticks and it broke Scary Ted's window?"
"Scary Ted?" Jon gave me a strange look, "Don't you mean Scary Sam? That's why we called him 'Scary'. It was for the alliteration."
"Oh you're right," I gave a fake laugh, "Still a scary old man though."
"That he was." Jon laughed along.
Okay, so that didn't reveal anything. If he could remember our childhood then he must be the same old Jon. Right?
"Or like the time that we were ice skating on the frozen lake when that crazy person almost ran me over with a snowmobile?"
"Yeah, except it was almost me he ran over." Jon gave me another strange look.
"Hey, he almost ran us both over," I joked. Again, he knew that.
"Are you going to bring up the time we were almost mugged too?" Jon asked.
Damn...he only the two of us ever knew that. He must be Jon.
"What's up man?" Jon asked.
"Oh just being nostalgic," I answered, hoping that would be enough.
Then I had the thought...he read a lot of history books. If this was indeed a case of this person being a different Jon, then maybe he has all the same memories but the world is different. I immediately began thinking of life altering events in history that could be totally different and affect the whole world. But I would sound absolutely crazy if I messed it up.
Everything he was reading seemed to involve World War II...that must be the difference. What was the biggest moment in World War II that would change everything...
"Man,'' I started, "You ever wonder what would've happened if we won the battle of D-day." I know it sounded random as hell but I stared at him waiting for the answer. Gripping my beer bottle tightly waiting for him to respond.
"I bet it would've changed the whole war...too bad they were massacred on the beach. Such a poorly planned assault."
My eyes widened and I dropped my beer.
"Henry?" Jon looked at me.
"Who are you?"
"W-what?"
"Who are you!" I screamed and reached in the door nearby for a handgun I kept there. I always kept it there since I worked late hours. I had a fear someone would come around looking for trouble. I never thought I'd use it on Jon.
"H-Henry! What are you doing?!"
"You came back different!" I screamed. I had no idea if this Jon was normal, if he was an alien, if he was...was...who knew! This was uncharted territory. I had no idea what to expect. "You are not the same Jon."
"That's crazy," Jon said backing up from me. His eyes glued to my gun, "Henry, it's me. It's Jon."
"No it isn't!" I shook the gun, "I swear I will shoot you now if you do not tell me who you are. I swear I'll do it!"
There was a pause and it only confirmed my suspicions. He was thinking. Right now I could tell if he was deciding to reveal the truth to me.
"Okay, okay...I'm not Jon." He slumped his head down.
"Where is he?!" I screamed.
"He's dead."
I stumbled back into my desk and the arm holding the gun dropped low. "but...h-how...?"
"Things happened, it's hard to explain."
"Did you kill him?" I asked seriously.
There was a moment of hesitation and it told me exactly what I needed to know.
Jon realized this as well, "what would you do if a mirror image of yourself appeared in front of you!" He screamed.
I shot him in the head.
It was instant. I did it before reacting; before really thinking. I couldn't call the cops and tell them my time traveling friend is dead. I couldn't let him go. He had knowledge from another world and maybe some alternative motive. Maybe he came here to use the time machine for bad. Maybe he was going to kill me in my sleep after he learned how to use it. Maybe he...maybe...maybe.
"I don't know!" I screamed dropping the gun on the ground as I watched the crimson spill from Alternative Jon's head. "I don't know what's going on!"
I felt myself start to get close to vomiting but I didn't my best to hold it back. I tried my hardest to stop from having a complete panic attack. I couldn't believe this was happening. This only happened in movies. This wasn't supposed to actually happen.
I looked over at the time machine.
I could go in time with the buddy and dump in. No one would ever find it. I could then destroy it and forget this ever happened.
Or...
I could go back in time and kill the Alternative Jon. I still needed more testing but if the time machine went back in time to an alternative world where things are similar but different...I could kill that Jon and therefore he wouldn't exist to kill my Jon when he first travels through time.
But how many alternative worlds are there? What if I get sent back to a different one? What if I get sent back to this one and buy killing this Jon my life changes and I don't invent the time machine. Therefore, the bracelet wouldn't work and I'd be stuck in the past?
And the way he answered my question and read the history books...did the Allies lose WWII? What would the world look like? What if I am killed immediately on the other side?
I just had to hope it would be the same second world that this second Jon came from. That wouldn't affect our timeline until early this week when I sent Jon back, then I could come back and destroy the time machine. It would prevent myself from ever losing Jon.
Did it make sense? Not at all, but I was banking more off sci-fi theories at this point then scientific research.
I picked up the gun, put the bracelet on, typed a random date in the computer but made sure to pick the year we were in foster care together, and entered the machine.
I closed my eyes as I counted down to being teleported.
5...4...3...2...1...
(to be continued) | I lay the blame square on Coleman. If his wife hadn't been having twins in Washington State, then Coleman wouldn't have used the device, and everything would still be normal. I've closed the door to the lab, and the oozing limbs seemed to have settled, but I don't know for how long.
In London, getting on the tube, they have this automated voice. *Mind the Gap* they tell you, like the Gap is some sort of thing that's coming for you. It's only darkness, isn't it, that space between the iron-grey platform and the sticky blue flooring of the train? Only darkness, yes. We joked about it in development.
"We're making a Gap," we told our friends and family. Me and Coleman, laughing about it as we drank hot cocoa (him with Bailey's in it because his wife was still in the States and who would ever know, really Jenny, time to calm down.) I liked his eyes and his jokes and the little bottle of pills went forgotten.
Well, I've got my Gap now.
Coleman pushed for the development. He was the one who put in the late hours in Bletchley, who kept the breakers working and the coding running. I said we should test it with animals first. Bugs, cats, dogs. They sent Laika into space. They sent monkeys and chimps, but when Coleman's wife's contractions started on the other side of the world, I couldn't hold Coleman back.
He stepped into the Gap and kept the lead-lined door closed behind him. I got snapchats and messages. One boy, one girl (we're naming her Jenny, after you) and I sat by the Gap's door and waited for Coleman to come back.
I dreamt about him as I drifted off in my chair. Coleman, and the London Underground voice.
*Mind the Gap, Mind the Gap, Please Mind the Gap.* I was crossing into the train at Waterloo and a corpse hand reached out of the darkness, grasping my ankle. Wet and moist, wrinkled with the skin sloughing off. I woke up and peeked into the Gap. I shouldn't have done it, but the Gap had started paying attention to me, in all its darkness. I wanted Coleman.
Coleman came back. He had red in his cheeks and smiled all the time. Two babies safe in Washington State and a mother who loved them dearly. Jealousy ate at me as I made hot cocoa for one because Coleman wanted to go home and Skype them. Say hello to the little ones. Who cared about the little ones, they were two small to understand.
On the other side of the Gap, the knocking started. Long, dragging knocks, pulling against the lead-lined door. I drew back the shutter and peeked in and there they were: a hydra of tentacles reaching out of the darkness, oozing corpse-juice and slime as they came towards the door. For the first time in a while I knocked back a handful of small round pills, and called Coleman.
He came in, irritated at being divided from his wife and kids. What about me? I'd been around him for longer than her, and he never looked at me like that. I took the only course of action: led him back to the Gap and I said some words. He looked at me with hollow eyes. I decided the Gap had got into him, and he had to go back to it.
Oh he screamed for a while, and scratched at the door. The tentacles thrashed and squelched, but like I said, they've settled now. I lay the blame square on him. If he hadn't gone in, then I wouldn't have followed him.
--------
/r/Schoolgirlerror | |
[WP] Teleportation is finally invented. Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side, the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is not your friend | He looked at me with the kind of somber eyes he’d always had. Calming but penetrating. A man quietly murmuring a compulsive mantra in the back of his mind. A constant reminder that things are okay; but they aren’t okay.
He had been in the decompression chamber a few days already. It’s not like he was being punished or anything, so I had no trouble getting access. Hell I could have probably slept there if I really wanted. He was connected all kinds of sensors, measuring vitals, neurological activity, metabolic rate. Really everything possible. Though I mean it’s not really surprising, he had just been teleported across the ocean.
It felt more like he was a diver that had just been brought from the depths of the Marina Trench. Having seen the very most depths of reality, not quite sure how to adequately process it all. Constantly swearing that he was fine. This was all just precautionary nonsense. It wasn’t a really big deal at all. He was always a terrible liar.
I wasn’t the first to visit him. I’ll admit I was too nervous at first. A few of our friends were there when it all went down. Saw him the moment he appeared back in the US. A millisecond trip from Portugal. Of course we all understood the scientific implication of it all. Well and the philosophical implications as well.
He wasn’t the same person we knew after all. I mean he was, but all the matter that made him up wasn’t. Neuron by neuron, cell by cell a perfect replication. I’d imagine there were a few moles now misaligned or birthmarks misplaced, but on a fundamental level, the most core structure of his DNA hadn’t been altered at all. Well at least everyone had assured us.
It’s kind of fascinating though, how the most basic tenets of our self seem to be tied to the eyes. That little flicker that reminds everyone who we are, so expressively dictated by the way we look, process the world. My hesitation to visit him stemmed from my friend’s constant implication that the way he looked at them just seemed off. Like they could see a change in his comprehension through his pupils.
When I sat down next to him though, he seemed just as troubled as always. Serenely assured of his place in the world, but completely at odds with how people expected him to be. I think that’s the key to it all. You can’t judge a person’s character through their eyes until you fully understand the process going on behind them. To know someone intimately is to understand how they think.
“There’s this concept I’ve been reading about a lot lately,” he interrupted, butting into my awkward small talk. I was actually pretty relieved. Hoping he’d have something to say. I didn’t really know how to approach it all.
“It’s this idea of the gaze, that who we are is so dictated by how others view us. And no not in a pseudo intellectual self-help bullshit kind of way. I’m talking about on a metaphysical level. When someone sees you, and makes a judgment about you, they are creating an entity in their mind. A sort of mask that has been placed on you. And the more people you know, the more masks you have. But it’s completely out of your control. It’s terrifying man.”
You could tell he had been pouring through the Sartre starter book teetering ever so precariously on the side table. Something I had sent him back in college after a brief affair with existentialism. Completely full of page markers. To a real extent, the nature of his own existence now a more troubling concept to himself than anyone of us.
“But just think about it.” He went on. “I am literally a different person now. In every sense of the word. My body isn’t mine, the memories; hopes and dreams, that time we went kayaking on the Colorado river during college. That all happened to someone else. And without even realizing it, you are placing this sense of being that is so entrenched in your own mind onto a replica of a human. That’s something fucked up right?”
That’s all bullshit; a thought I initially kept to myself though. Watching his mind turn into a well-oiled mechanism, tied to this notion of being something else. Inauthentic in every way. Or at least to him. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “There’s a reason all that shit went out of fashion in the sixties, man. Look at fuckin Camus, died in a car crash in his prime. You gotta look at the context, post-war France was a shit-hole. Think of all the science that went into making this, it’s a goddamn miracle. We’re in an age of enlightenment. Who gives a shit that you are not the exact cells you once were? Do you feel like you?”
I suppose I regret going off the rails a little in retrospect. I think it’s completely fair to have a crisis of existence occasionally. For the non-religious crowd, it’s the closest you can get to being re-baptized. He immediately turned inward.
“Fine, fine, you win. It’s all bullshit. You happy now?”
I left the chamber a little while later. Things got a little tense after that. I visited him a couple more times over the next few weeks, but he gradually became quieter and quieter. It didn’t take long for the breakdown to really worsen. I suppose it was always a risk, but they assured he’d be fine. It’s hard to explain to people that you're grieving over someone in a coma. “Maybe he’ll come out of it.” They always would say with a sort of morose exuberance. Like they knew that’d never happen, but they might as well smile.
It wasn’t so much that he fell apart or anything. Never really lost the most basic faculties that dictate whether you're alive or dead, but lost that which really defines someone on a personal level. And it’s weird to be the person to explain it this way now, but you could see it in his eyes. The person who I had grown up with, the person I expected him to be. Could anticipate his thoughts. He slowly disappeared. Eventually becoming a shell. Well sure, I guess that’s really the only apt way to describe it.
He was cells and molecules, neurons and synapses. But he wasn’t my friend. And he slowly slipped into a coma. Almost so gradually it was hard to notice.
The official press release stated, "known risks" and promised "incredible new research" that his loss would not be in vain. Or so that's what they told us.
____________________________
^^Just ^^uploaded ^^8 ^^months ^^worth ^^of ^^stories ^^to ^^/r/SquidCritic ^^if ^^you ^^want ^^to ^^check ^^it ^^out. | I lay the blame square on Coleman. If his wife hadn't been having twins in Washington State, then Coleman wouldn't have used the device, and everything would still be normal. I've closed the door to the lab, and the oozing limbs seemed to have settled, but I don't know for how long.
In London, getting on the tube, they have this automated voice. *Mind the Gap* they tell you, like the Gap is some sort of thing that's coming for you. It's only darkness, isn't it, that space between the iron-grey platform and the sticky blue flooring of the train? Only darkness, yes. We joked about it in development.
"We're making a Gap," we told our friends and family. Me and Coleman, laughing about it as we drank hot cocoa (him with Bailey's in it because his wife was still in the States and who would ever know, really Jenny, time to calm down.) I liked his eyes and his jokes and the little bottle of pills went forgotten.
Well, I've got my Gap now.
Coleman pushed for the development. He was the one who put in the late hours in Bletchley, who kept the breakers working and the coding running. I said we should test it with animals first. Bugs, cats, dogs. They sent Laika into space. They sent monkeys and chimps, but when Coleman's wife's contractions started on the other side of the world, I couldn't hold Coleman back.
He stepped into the Gap and kept the lead-lined door closed behind him. I got snapchats and messages. One boy, one girl (we're naming her Jenny, after you) and I sat by the Gap's door and waited for Coleman to come back.
I dreamt about him as I drifted off in my chair. Coleman, and the London Underground voice.
*Mind the Gap, Mind the Gap, Please Mind the Gap.* I was crossing into the train at Waterloo and a corpse hand reached out of the darkness, grasping my ankle. Wet and moist, wrinkled with the skin sloughing off. I woke up and peeked into the Gap. I shouldn't have done it, but the Gap had started paying attention to me, in all its darkness. I wanted Coleman.
Coleman came back. He had red in his cheeks and smiled all the time. Two babies safe in Washington State and a mother who loved them dearly. Jealousy ate at me as I made hot cocoa for one because Coleman wanted to go home and Skype them. Say hello to the little ones. Who cared about the little ones, they were two small to understand.
On the other side of the Gap, the knocking started. Long, dragging knocks, pulling against the lead-lined door. I drew back the shutter and peeked in and there they were: a hydra of tentacles reaching out of the darkness, oozing corpse-juice and slime as they came towards the door. For the first time in a while I knocked back a handful of small round pills, and called Coleman.
He came in, irritated at being divided from his wife and kids. What about me? I'd been around him for longer than her, and he never looked at me like that. I took the only course of action: led him back to the Gap and I said some words. He looked at me with hollow eyes. I decided the Gap had got into him, and he had to go back to it.
Oh he screamed for a while, and scratched at the door. The tentacles thrashed and squelched, but like I said, they've settled now. I lay the blame square on him. If he hadn't gone in, then I wouldn't have followed him.
--------
/r/Schoolgirlerror | |
[WP] Teleportation is finally invented. Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side, the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is not your friend | "This is Ray with the Tokyo team, we are ready to receive you." The Japanese team of scientist continued to run their last minute checks, they knew everything was in place but it is the human condition to worry. It had taken Ray 12 hours to fly here from California, a feat which was revolutionary only a short while ago. Now, his friend Donovan would make the same trip in less than a second.
Holding up a bag of IN-N-OUT burgers, his friend spoke with a broad smile. "Two burgers animal style with one hold the pickle. Honestly though, I think it is a travesty to ruin a great burger by taking out the pickles." Donovan, shaking his head with mock pity, moved off the large screen and directed the camera at the teleporter.
"You can try to convert me once you are here. Beginning the countdown." Ray tried to sound confident but he could not hide his nervousness. Donovan also seemed to be his relaxed self but Ray knew otherwise. Running tests on animals only gave so much assurance that it would actually work on a human.
The countdown finished, a bright flash happened simultaneously on the live feed from america along with the receiving end in Tokyo. Standing before them, burgers in hand, was his friend Donovan. The team of scientist erupted in cheering, once again, humanity had done the impossible.
Donovan embraced his friend and handed him the promised burger. Ray, barely able to chew due to his laughter, suddenly frowned as he tasted pickles. At first, he assumed this was one of Donovan's attempts to convert him but paused as he saw the man happily eating the pickle-free burger. "I find it hard to believe that after all these years you are suddenly agreeing with me." Ray spoke while eyeing his friend.
"Agree about what?" Donovan asked as he continued to eat.
"You've always refused to eat a burger without pickles..."
"Oh....Well, I suppose there is a first for everything. Besides we have more important issues to deal with." Donovan quickly changed the subject and began to answer the scientist's questions about his experience. He said there was no pain and despite feeling a little dizzy, he was otherwise fine.
"Well then, guess we can go ahead and cancel the flight back. No need to travel like neanderthals eh?" Ray joked has he butted his friend with his elbow.
"No!" Donovan screamed with terrified eyes. The entire room startled, turn to look at him. Realizing this, Donovan took a moment to regain his composure then spoke in his usual care-free manner. "I mean, we should wait to see if there are any long-term effects before I go in again. Safety first and all that, right?"
Ray nodded slowly. "I suppose you are right, Amanda will be disappointed when she hears you won't be home tonight."
Donovan gave him a blank stare, then glancing down at his ring replied in a smooth voice. "Oh well, I could always use a night away from the wife." He gave Ray a wink then turned away.
"Amanda is your daughter." Ray could not hide the worry in his voice as he approached him. "Don, did you really forget that your wife has been dead for years?"
Donovan paused and met Ray's eyes. He could see the fear, for a moment no one moved. Then, Donovan ran.
"Seal the facility now!" Ray screamed chasing after him.
Donovan did not get far before they grabbed him. The lab had a number of containment protocols for the specimen they experimented on. However, it was not until after month that Ray saw his friend again and this time, it was from the other side of a cell.
"To be honest, I do not even know where to begin." The head scientist spoke in a tired and frustrated tone. "His fingerprints are entirely different and he has no memory of the life he led before. These are certainly things to be worried about but they were within our parameters considering what we were putting him through. What really scares is....well, to be honest I am not even supposed to tell you"
"Please, I need to know." Ray spoke in a soft voice as he stared down at the man he called his friend.
The scientist sighed but continued to speak. "His blood is black and thick as tar. This was enough to terrify us but it was only the tip of the iceberg." The scientist motioned towards the room below. "His prison is actually vacuum. That thing, does not even need to breathe oxygen. In fact, we took out all the air in secret and he didn't even notice. There's more but this is all you need to know, what you are looking at is not human. I am sorry, but Donovan Rogers did not survive the experiment."
| I lay the blame square on Coleman. If his wife hadn't been having twins in Washington State, then Coleman wouldn't have used the device, and everything would still be normal. I've closed the door to the lab, and the oozing limbs seemed to have settled, but I don't know for how long.
In London, getting on the tube, they have this automated voice. *Mind the Gap* they tell you, like the Gap is some sort of thing that's coming for you. It's only darkness, isn't it, that space between the iron-grey platform and the sticky blue flooring of the train? Only darkness, yes. We joked about it in development.
"We're making a Gap," we told our friends and family. Me and Coleman, laughing about it as we drank hot cocoa (him with Bailey's in it because his wife was still in the States and who would ever know, really Jenny, time to calm down.) I liked his eyes and his jokes and the little bottle of pills went forgotten.
Well, I've got my Gap now.
Coleman pushed for the development. He was the one who put in the late hours in Bletchley, who kept the breakers working and the coding running. I said we should test it with animals first. Bugs, cats, dogs. They sent Laika into space. They sent monkeys and chimps, but when Coleman's wife's contractions started on the other side of the world, I couldn't hold Coleman back.
He stepped into the Gap and kept the lead-lined door closed behind him. I got snapchats and messages. One boy, one girl (we're naming her Jenny, after you) and I sat by the Gap's door and waited for Coleman to come back.
I dreamt about him as I drifted off in my chair. Coleman, and the London Underground voice.
*Mind the Gap, Mind the Gap, Please Mind the Gap.* I was crossing into the train at Waterloo and a corpse hand reached out of the darkness, grasping my ankle. Wet and moist, wrinkled with the skin sloughing off. I woke up and peeked into the Gap. I shouldn't have done it, but the Gap had started paying attention to me, in all its darkness. I wanted Coleman.
Coleman came back. He had red in his cheeks and smiled all the time. Two babies safe in Washington State and a mother who loved them dearly. Jealousy ate at me as I made hot cocoa for one because Coleman wanted to go home and Skype them. Say hello to the little ones. Who cared about the little ones, they were two small to understand.
On the other side of the Gap, the knocking started. Long, dragging knocks, pulling against the lead-lined door. I drew back the shutter and peeked in and there they were: a hydra of tentacles reaching out of the darkness, oozing corpse-juice and slime as they came towards the door. For the first time in a while I knocked back a handful of small round pills, and called Coleman.
He came in, irritated at being divided from his wife and kids. What about me? I'd been around him for longer than her, and he never looked at me like that. I took the only course of action: led him back to the Gap and I said some words. He looked at me with hollow eyes. I decided the Gap had got into him, and he had to go back to it.
Oh he screamed for a while, and scratched at the door. The tentacles thrashed and squelched, but like I said, they've settled now. I lay the blame square on him. If he hadn't gone in, then I wouldn't have followed him.
--------
/r/Schoolgirlerror | |
[WP] Teleportation is finally invented. Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side, the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is not your friend | "This is Ray with the Tokyo team, we are ready to receive you." The Japanese team of scientist continued to run their last minute checks, they knew everything was in place but it is the human condition to worry. It had taken Ray 12 hours to fly here from California, a feat which was revolutionary only a short while ago. Now, his friend Donovan would make the same trip in less than a second.
Holding up a bag of IN-N-OUT burgers, his friend spoke with a broad smile. "Two burgers animal style with one hold the pickle. Honestly though, I think it is a travesty to ruin a great burger by taking out the pickles." Donovan, shaking his head with mock pity, moved off the large screen and directed the camera at the teleporter.
"You can try to convert me once you are here. Beginning the countdown." Ray tried to sound confident but he could not hide his nervousness. Donovan also seemed to be his relaxed self but Ray knew otherwise. Running tests on animals only gave so much assurance that it would actually work on a human.
The countdown finished, a bright flash happened simultaneously on the live feed from america along with the receiving end in Tokyo. Standing before them, burgers in hand, was his friend Donovan. The team of scientist erupted in cheering, once again, humanity had done the impossible.
Donovan embraced his friend and handed him the promised burger. Ray, barely able to chew due to his laughter, suddenly frowned as he tasted pickles. At first, he assumed this was one of Donovan's attempts to convert him but paused as he saw the man happily eating the pickle-free burger. "I find it hard to believe that after all these years you are suddenly agreeing with me." Ray spoke while eyeing his friend.
"Agree about what?" Donovan asked as he continued to eat.
"You've always refused to eat a burger without pickles..."
"Oh....Well, I suppose there is a first for everything. Besides we have more important issues to deal with." Donovan quickly changed the subject and began to answer the scientist's questions about his experience. He said there was no pain and despite feeling a little dizzy, he was otherwise fine.
"Well then, guess we can go ahead and cancel the flight back. No need to travel like neanderthals eh?" Ray joked has he butted his friend with his elbow.
"No!" Donovan screamed with terrified eyes. The entire room startled, turn to look at him. Realizing this, Donovan took a moment to regain his composure then spoke in his usual care-free manner. "I mean, we should wait to see if there are any long-term effects before I go in again. Safety first and all that, right?"
Ray nodded slowly. "I suppose you are right, Amanda will be disappointed when she hears you won't be home tonight."
Donovan gave him a blank stare, then glancing down at his ring replied in a smooth voice. "Oh well, I could always use a night away from the wife." He gave Ray a wink then turned away.
"Amanda is your daughter." Ray could not hide the worry in his voice as he approached him. "Don, did you really forget that your wife has been dead for years?"
Donovan paused and met Ray's eyes. He could see the fear, for a moment no one moved. Then, Donovan ran.
"Seal the facility now!" Ray screamed chasing after him.
Donovan did not get far before they grabbed him. The lab had a number of containment protocols for the specimen they experimented on. However, it was not until after month that Ray saw his friend again and this time, it was from the other side of a cell.
"To be honest, I do not even know where to begin." The head scientist spoke in a tired and frustrated tone. "His fingerprints are entirely different and he has no memory of the life he led before. These are certainly things to be worried about but they were within our parameters considering what we were putting him through. What really scares is....well, to be honest I am not even supposed to tell you"
"Please, I need to know." Ray spoke in a soft voice as he stared down at the man he called his friend.
The scientist sighed but continued to speak. "His blood is black and thick as tar. This was enough to terrify us but it was only the tip of the iceberg." The scientist motioned towards the room below. "His prison is actually vacuum. That thing, does not even need to breathe oxygen. In fact, we took out all the air in secret and he didn't even notice. There's more but this is all you need to know, what you are looking at is not human. I am sorry, but Donovan Rogers did not survive the experiment."
| It was small things at first that made me think Jon was different. He called me "dude" way too much when he used to call me "man." He suddenly knew how to cook when before he didn't know how to make ramen noodles. All things that other people could brush off, but I couldn't. I lived with him since we were in foster care together. I knew him, he knew me. Something was definitely up.
It didn't take me long to pinpoint the differences started after he came back from teleporting. I spent my entire life trying to create teleportation. It wasn't an easy road and I was constantly ridiculed for my attempts...but I finally did it. After losing all my grants and even my own lab. I moved my study to my little garage. I took out loans and poured all my own money into this. When I made the biggest breakthrough I didn't tell anyone. I wanted this to be kept to myself for now. Once it was fully tested and proved to work I would unveil it.
My life-long friend--more a brother than friend--volunteered to be the first human test subject. I told him I would go first, but he refused. He wanted me to see the results since I had the 'brain'.
I could go on and on to explain how it worked, but people always zoned out when I explained it. So in simple terms....it was made up of four pipes that all faced inward. You stand in the machine with a bracelet on. The bracelet was for communicating with the machine from the other side. It only had one button that could travel fast enough to break the speed of light, which as I discovered, meant traveling in time. When that button on the bracelet it pressed, the machine turns on and brings you back to the present time. On this end, I control everything with a computer.
He stepped in one second and stepped out the next second. It was instant. He immediately began describing what it felt like. He only went back in time a week so he didn't witness anything major. But he confirmed it was a week ago by checking some newspaper, which was strange he had to find one at all and there wasn’t a better way to confirm it.
Everything seemed normal. Naturally, it felt weird to have your body being thrown back in time, but his doctor said there was no difference. He didn't know he went back in time, of course. We kept that part a secret. But the results showed he was perfectly healthy and a great first test.
It came later that I started realizing things were different. Things seemed...off. Nothing major, nothing crazy, but for me it was certain aspects. First, it was pulling the lemon out of his water at a restaurant. Jon loved lemons...I would usually give him my lemon to add to his drink.
That's fine, tastes can change.
But he missed an episode of his favorite TV show. He canceled plans on me before because he had to watch that show without Twitter spoiling it for him. These tiny things started to add up.
What really told me he was different was how he suddenly started getting very interested in history. Reading every Wikipedia page he could muster. He had a giant stack of books next to his bed and when I borrowed his Kindle he had a multitude of non-fiction history stories.
I started to have a real fear that the crazy sci-fi story happened. One where my friend went in but a different one came out...it was too crazy though.
It was when we were grabbing some drinks in my garage going over the results, I mentioned if he would be up for another trip. He seemed very hesitant.
"If nothing went wrong, why not go again?" I inquired.
He shrugged, "What if something does though? I was willing the first time because I knew how desperate you were. But now you can bring it back to the scientific community. They can advance it with you. We don't need to take the personal risks."
It was very clear he was hiding something. He wasn't even this hesitant the first time he went. Why would he be more afraid the second time if everything worked properly?
"Hey remember that time we were hitting rocks with sticks and it broke Scary Ted's window?"
"Scary Ted?" Jon gave me a strange look, "Don't you mean Scary Sam? That's why we called him 'Scary'. It was for the alliteration."
"Oh you're right," I gave a fake laugh, "Still a scary old man though."
"That he was." Jon laughed along.
Okay, so that didn't reveal anything. If he could remember our childhood then he must be the same old Jon. Right?
"Or like the time that we were ice skating on the frozen lake when that crazy person almost ran me over with a snowmobile?"
"Yeah, except it was almost me he ran over." Jon gave me another strange look.
"Hey, he almost ran us both over," I joked. Again, he knew that.
"Are you going to bring up the time we were almost mugged too?" Jon asked.
Damn...he only the two of us ever knew that. He must be Jon.
"What's up man?" Jon asked.
"Oh just being nostalgic," I answered, hoping that would be enough.
Then I had the thought...he read a lot of history books. If this was indeed a case of this person being a different Jon, then maybe he has all the same memories but the world is different. I immediately began thinking of life altering events in history that could be totally different and affect the whole world. But I would sound absolutely crazy if I messed it up.
Everything he was reading seemed to involve World War II...that must be the difference. What was the biggest moment in World War II that would change everything...
"Man,'' I started, "You ever wonder what would've happened if we won the battle of D-day." I know it sounded random as hell but I stared at him waiting for the answer. Gripping my beer bottle tightly waiting for him to respond.
"I bet it would've changed the whole war...too bad they were massacred on the beach. Such a poorly planned assault."
My eyes widened and I dropped my beer.
"Henry?" Jon looked at me.
"Who are you?"
"W-what?"
"Who are you!" I screamed and reached in the door nearby for a handgun I kept there. I always kept it there since I worked late hours. I had a fear someone would come around looking for trouble. I never thought I'd use it on Jon.
"H-Henry! What are you doing?!"
"You came back different!" I screamed. I had no idea if this Jon was normal, if he was an alien, if he was...was...who knew! This was uncharted territory. I had no idea what to expect. "You are not the same Jon."
"That's crazy," Jon said backing up from me. His eyes glued to my gun, "Henry, it's me. It's Jon."
"No it isn't!" I shook the gun, "I swear I will shoot you now if you do not tell me who you are. I swear I'll do it!"
There was a pause and it only confirmed my suspicions. He was thinking. Right now I could tell if he was deciding to reveal the truth to me.
"Okay, okay...I'm not Jon." He slumped his head down.
"Where is he?!" I screamed.
"He's dead."
I stumbled back into my desk and the arm holding the gun dropped low. "but...h-how...?"
"Things happened, it's hard to explain."
"Did you kill him?" I asked seriously.
There was a moment of hesitation and it told me exactly what I needed to know.
Jon realized this as well, "what would you do if a mirror image of yourself appeared in front of you!" He screamed.
I shot him in the head.
It was instant. I did it before reacting; before really thinking. I couldn't call the cops and tell them my time traveling friend is dead. I couldn't let him go. He had knowledge from another world and maybe some alternative motive. Maybe he came here to use the time machine for bad. Maybe he was going to kill me in my sleep after he learned how to use it. Maybe he...maybe...maybe.
"I don't know!" I screamed dropping the gun on the ground as I watched the crimson spill from Alternative Jon's head. "I don't know what's going on!"
I felt myself start to get close to vomiting but I didn't my best to hold it back. I tried my hardest to stop from having a complete panic attack. I couldn't believe this was happening. This only happened in movies. This wasn't supposed to actually happen.
I looked over at the time machine.
I could go in time with the buddy and dump in. No one would ever find it. I could then destroy it and forget this ever happened.
Or...
I could go back in time and kill the Alternative Jon. I still needed more testing but if the time machine went back in time to an alternative world where things are similar but different...I could kill that Jon and therefore he wouldn't exist to kill my Jon when he first travels through time.
But how many alternative worlds are there? What if I get sent back to a different one? What if I get sent back to this one and buy killing this Jon my life changes and I don't invent the time machine. Therefore, the bracelet wouldn't work and I'd be stuck in the past?
And the way he answered my question and read the history books...did the Allies lose WWII? What would the world look like? What if I am killed immediately on the other side?
I just had to hope it would be the same second world that this second Jon came from. That wouldn't affect our timeline until early this week when I sent Jon back, then I could come back and destroy the time machine. It would prevent myself from ever losing Jon.
Did it make sense? Not at all, but I was banking more off sci-fi theories at this point then scientific research.
I picked up the gun, put the bracelet on, typed a random date in the computer but made sure to pick the year we were in foster care together, and entered the machine.
I closed my eyes as I counted down to being teleported.
5...4...3...2...1...
(to be continued) | |
[WP] Teleportation is finally invented. Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side, the more time you spend with him, the more you realize that this is not your friend | "This is Ray with the Tokyo team, we are ready to receive you." The Japanese team of scientist continued to run their last minute checks, they knew everything was in place but it is the human condition to worry. It had taken Ray 12 hours to fly here from California, a feat which was revolutionary only a short while ago. Now, his friend Donovan would make the same trip in less than a second.
Holding up a bag of IN-N-OUT burgers, his friend spoke with a broad smile. "Two burgers animal style with one hold the pickle. Honestly though, I think it is a travesty to ruin a great burger by taking out the pickles." Donovan, shaking his head with mock pity, moved off the large screen and directed the camera at the teleporter.
"You can try to convert me once you are here. Beginning the countdown." Ray tried to sound confident but he could not hide his nervousness. Donovan also seemed to be his relaxed self but Ray knew otherwise. Running tests on animals only gave so much assurance that it would actually work on a human.
The countdown finished, a bright flash happened simultaneously on the live feed from america along with the receiving end in Tokyo. Standing before them, burgers in hand, was his friend Donovan. The team of scientist erupted in cheering, once again, humanity had done the impossible.
Donovan embraced his friend and handed him the promised burger. Ray, barely able to chew due to his laughter, suddenly frowned as he tasted pickles. At first, he assumed this was one of Donovan's attempts to convert him but paused as he saw the man happily eating the pickle-free burger. "I find it hard to believe that after all these years you are suddenly agreeing with me." Ray spoke while eyeing his friend.
"Agree about what?" Donovan asked as he continued to eat.
"You've always refused to eat a burger without pickles..."
"Oh....Well, I suppose there is a first for everything. Besides we have more important issues to deal with." Donovan quickly changed the subject and began to answer the scientist's questions about his experience. He said there was no pain and despite feeling a little dizzy, he was otherwise fine.
"Well then, guess we can go ahead and cancel the flight back. No need to travel like neanderthals eh?" Ray joked has he butted his friend with his elbow.
"No!" Donovan screamed with terrified eyes. The entire room startled, turn to look at him. Realizing this, Donovan took a moment to regain his composure then spoke in his usual care-free manner. "I mean, we should wait to see if there are any long-term effects before I go in again. Safety first and all that, right?"
Ray nodded slowly. "I suppose you are right, Amanda will be disappointed when she hears you won't be home tonight."
Donovan gave him a blank stare, then glancing down at his ring replied in a smooth voice. "Oh well, I could always use a night away from the wife." He gave Ray a wink then turned away.
"Amanda is your daughter." Ray could not hide the worry in his voice as he approached him. "Don, did you really forget that your wife has been dead for years?"
Donovan paused and met Ray's eyes. He could see the fear, for a moment no one moved. Then, Donovan ran.
"Seal the facility now!" Ray screamed chasing after him.
Donovan did not get far before they grabbed him. The lab had a number of containment protocols for the specimen they experimented on. However, it was not until after month that Ray saw his friend again and this time, it was from the other side of a cell.
"To be honest, I do not even know where to begin." The head scientist spoke in a tired and frustrated tone. "His fingerprints are entirely different and he has no memory of the life he led before. These are certainly things to be worried about but they were within our parameters considering what we were putting him through. What really scares is....well, to be honest I am not even supposed to tell you"
"Please, I need to know." Ray spoke in a soft voice as he stared down at the man he called his friend.
The scientist sighed but continued to speak. "His blood is black and thick as tar. This was enough to terrify us but it was only the tip of the iceberg." The scientist motioned towards the room below. "His prison is actually vacuum. That thing, does not even need to breathe oxygen. In fact, we took out all the air in secret and he didn't even notice. There's more but this is all you need to know, what you are looking at is not human. I am sorry, but Donovan Rogers did not survive the experiment."
| He looked at me with the kind of somber eyes he’d always had. Calming but penetrating. A man quietly murmuring a compulsive mantra in the back of his mind. A constant reminder that things are okay; but they aren’t okay.
He had been in the decompression chamber a few days already. It’s not like he was being punished or anything, so I had no trouble getting access. Hell I could have probably slept there if I really wanted. He was connected all kinds of sensors, measuring vitals, neurological activity, metabolic rate. Really everything possible. Though I mean it’s not really surprising, he had just been teleported across the ocean.
It felt more like he was a diver that had just been brought from the depths of the Marina Trench. Having seen the very most depths of reality, not quite sure how to adequately process it all. Constantly swearing that he was fine. This was all just precautionary nonsense. It wasn’t a really big deal at all. He was always a terrible liar.
I wasn’t the first to visit him. I’ll admit I was too nervous at first. A few of our friends were there when it all went down. Saw him the moment he appeared back in the US. A millisecond trip from Portugal. Of course we all understood the scientific implication of it all. Well and the philosophical implications as well.
He wasn’t the same person we knew after all. I mean he was, but all the matter that made him up wasn’t. Neuron by neuron, cell by cell a perfect replication. I’d imagine there were a few moles now misaligned or birthmarks misplaced, but on a fundamental level, the most core structure of his DNA hadn’t been altered at all. Well at least everyone had assured us.
It’s kind of fascinating though, how the most basic tenets of our self seem to be tied to the eyes. That little flicker that reminds everyone who we are, so expressively dictated by the way we look, process the world. My hesitation to visit him stemmed from my friend’s constant implication that the way he looked at them just seemed off. Like they could see a change in his comprehension through his pupils.
When I sat down next to him though, he seemed just as troubled as always. Serenely assured of his place in the world, but completely at odds with how people expected him to be. I think that’s the key to it all. You can’t judge a person’s character through their eyes until you fully understand the process going on behind them. To know someone intimately is to understand how they think.
“There’s this concept I’ve been reading about a lot lately,” he interrupted, butting into my awkward small talk. I was actually pretty relieved. Hoping he’d have something to say. I didn’t really know how to approach it all.
“It’s this idea of the gaze, that who we are is so dictated by how others view us. And no not in a pseudo intellectual self-help bullshit kind of way. I’m talking about on a metaphysical level. When someone sees you, and makes a judgment about you, they are creating an entity in their mind. A sort of mask that has been placed on you. And the more people you know, the more masks you have. But it’s completely out of your control. It’s terrifying man.”
You could tell he had been pouring through the Sartre starter book teetering ever so precariously on the side table. Something I had sent him back in college after a brief affair with existentialism. Completely full of page markers. To a real extent, the nature of his own existence now a more troubling concept to himself than anyone of us.
“But just think about it.” He went on. “I am literally a different person now. In every sense of the word. My body isn’t mine, the memories; hopes and dreams, that time we went kayaking on the Colorado river during college. That all happened to someone else. And without even realizing it, you are placing this sense of being that is so entrenched in your own mind onto a replica of a human. That’s something fucked up right?”
That’s all bullshit; a thought I initially kept to myself though. Watching his mind turn into a well-oiled mechanism, tied to this notion of being something else. Inauthentic in every way. Or at least to him. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “There’s a reason all that shit went out of fashion in the sixties, man. Look at fuckin Camus, died in a car crash in his prime. You gotta look at the context, post-war France was a shit-hole. Think of all the science that went into making this, it’s a goddamn miracle. We’re in an age of enlightenment. Who gives a shit that you are not the exact cells you once were? Do you feel like you?”
I suppose I regret going off the rails a little in retrospect. I think it’s completely fair to have a crisis of existence occasionally. For the non-religious crowd, it’s the closest you can get to being re-baptized. He immediately turned inward.
“Fine, fine, you win. It’s all bullshit. You happy now?”
I left the chamber a little while later. Things got a little tense after that. I visited him a couple more times over the next few weeks, but he gradually became quieter and quieter. It didn’t take long for the breakdown to really worsen. I suppose it was always a risk, but they assured he’d be fine. It’s hard to explain to people that you're grieving over someone in a coma. “Maybe he’ll come out of it.” They always would say with a sort of morose exuberance. Like they knew that’d never happen, but they might as well smile.
It wasn’t so much that he fell apart or anything. Never really lost the most basic faculties that dictate whether you're alive or dead, but lost that which really defines someone on a personal level. And it’s weird to be the person to explain it this way now, but you could see it in his eyes. The person who I had grown up with, the person I expected him to be. Could anticipate his thoughts. He slowly disappeared. Eventually becoming a shell. Well sure, I guess that’s really the only apt way to describe it.
He was cells and molecules, neurons and synapses. But he wasn’t my friend. And he slowly slipped into a coma. Almost so gradually it was hard to notice.
The official press release stated, "known risks" and promised "incredible new research" that his loss would not be in vain. Or so that's what they told us.
____________________________
^^Just ^^uploaded ^^8 ^^months ^^worth ^^of ^^stories ^^to ^^/r/SquidCritic ^^if ^^you ^^want ^^to ^^check ^^it ^^out. | |
This isn't my idea, Reddit user Xyronian came up with the quote in a totally different context. I thought it's an idea for a writing prompt. | [WP] "What do I dream of? I dream of fire. Ash. Pain. Silence." | "...I don't want to answer" Katie responded. Numb, from the forty minutes or so she lay in the chair.
"I see..." Dr. Rickman sighed. "Katie. I can not help you if you do not open up to me."
"I don't *need* help." Katie replied, exasperated. '*How many times do I need to tell him?*.' She was restless. Her sleep had dwindled ever since her incident. "I'm fine. I promise."
"If you are fine, Katie, then why are you here?" Dr. Rickman inquired. '*I will not give up trying Katie. I know something is amiss*' he thought.
Katie slowly takes in a breath. "I'm here because I'm being forced." She replied allowing her breath to take away some of her stress. '*It's not that I don't want help... It's that you won't believe me.*'
Dr. Rickman lifted his glasses and began to inspect the lenses. "You are being forced. I will not deny you that. Although, Katie, perhaps you should consider *why* you are being forced to see me?" His eyes shifting focus, staring deeply at Katie.
'*I know why I'm here. Just stop... Please*.' Katie sniffed and noticed a tear rolling down her cheek. She lifts her head and sits upright. "Fine. You want to know, I'll tell you. You won't believe me anyway."
"Try me." Dr. Rickman reached out and softly grabbed Katies hand. "You can trust me Katie."
Katie sighs. "Ever since the incident. If I am lucky enough to sleep, then I dream of a place."
"Tell me about this place Katie." Dr. Rickman implores. '*I need as much information as you are willing to give.*'
Katie looks down. "Well... It is a place, and it is not a place... If that makes sense?"
'*Not really.*' Dr. Rickman thought. But it was best not to let Katie know that. "Can you describe this place, Katie?"
"It's dark. There isn't much to see except a thick fog on the floor. So thick I can't see my feet. And it's flooded, up to my ankles at the least" Katie begins to slowly lift her gaze.
"Go on. What else?" Dr Rickman pushes, pen in hand, writing down each detail of this dream of Katie's.
"It's quiet." She whispered. Her eyes locked with Dr. Rickman's. "I want to move but I feel paralysed. I feel I shouldn't, I don't want to be there I just want to go away..." Tears streaking her cheeks now.
'*Good. This is good.*' Thinks Dr. Rickman. "And why do you feel paralysed Katie? What are you afraid of?" he prompts.
Katies eyes quiver. Her stare intense. "The flames. They come. Out of nowhere, erupting, as high as mountains. All around me, and, and... I can *feel* them... As if they were really there, I can truly feel them Doctor and it burns, it burns so much, each time I feel as if I'm stuck, for a hundred years in this great blaze which tears through my body, ripping skin from flesh, then flesh from bone and eventually... I am nothing... And the flames disappear." Katie begins to weep, gasping for air with each sniffle.
Dr. Rickman squeezes her hands lightly, assuring her that she is not in her dream, but in reality. "Here" He hands Katie a tissue. As Katie begins to wipe her tears and compose herself Dr. Rickman scratches down some more notes on his parchment.
"So then what happens Katie?" He asks.
"I wake up." Katie replies softly.
"Very good Katie, this is very good. I think this will be all for today, do you need me to walk you to your quarters?" Dr. Rickman inquires. Conscious about keeping his tone soft.
"No... I'll go alone..." Katie stands from the leather chair and moves towards the door.
"We'll continue next time Katie."
Katie stops at the door, "One more thing Doctor... When I awaken I notice... I notice... Ash..."
"I see... Thank you Katie"
Once she had left and the door close. Dr. Rickman lifts his parchment and begins to examine his notes. He reaches for his pen to scribble down one last note at the base of the parchment.
'Success. Patient No. 12 has shifted. After 11 failed experiments we have induced, through No. 12's *Incident* (See classified document No.1202), true trans-dimensional travel.'
Dr. Rickman places down his parchment and pen. '*She may have been a success... But what have we awoken in the darkness?*'
| A sharp elbow to my ribs wakes me from my daydream. Still distracted I turn to my right where Cass is leaning against the wicker railing, scowling at me and mouthing tightly: “Do your job.” Our two passengers don’t seem to have noticed anything. “What are you dreaming of?”, she whispers impatiently. I shrug and sigh: “What do I dream of?”. I try to suppress a bitter smirk.
Recently my job had invaded my dreams; closing my eyes merely delayed my trip back to this bog of boredom and repetitiveness. Every waking minute was accompanied by a nauseating tug towards an inevitability, a sad certainty that I would be spending the rest of my time doing the same uninspired routine, fulfilling for no one, not in the least for myself. I had to contain myself from throwing a punch at my reflection every morning in front of the bathroom mirror as I was getting ready for the day. To think that not six months ago I would’ve given my left hand for this opportunity I have since regretted taking. I was so very, very pleased with myself; this young man finally achieving his goal and landing this excruciatingly compelling dream job. I was clearly mistaken about the type of person I thought I was, which, all things considered, stung me the most.
The two tourists are eagerly taking pictures of the painfully familiar landscape: trees as far as the eye can see. Their mouths slightly agape in an amazed smile were at first a point of pride for me. I allowed them to see all of this, I thought, I was their guide, their sherpa. Without my knowledge they wouldn’t have been able to reach these alien regions, record these glorious peaks or capture those remote valleys with their cameras. But the rush of steering these faux-adventurers wore off faster than I had anticipated, and my ensuing nonchalance had yielded me a series of complaints. My employer, therefore, saw fit to send a nanny along to keep an eye on me, to make sure I wouldn’t throw myself off the side in an irrational moment of lucidity.
Her name was Casey, but all my male colleagues called her Cass. She wasn’t as strict as she could’ve been, given the situation, but it was crystal clear that sitting in this freezing basket with three idiots was nowhere near the top of her bucket list. She was a few years older than me, and while she had her own scheduled tours, she volunteered to babysit me because she needed the extra money, or so I was told. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details of her physique, but suffice it to say that the unidirectional sexual tension wasn’t enough to wake me from the tedium.
Once again an elbow crash-lands between my bruised ribs. “So?!” she sharply sibilates. I inhale deeply as the cold air blows past our balloon, filling my lungs and clearing my mind. My wristwatch timidly reminds me we are due to come down in less than an hour, so I start making preparations for our descent. “I guess I dream of fir, ash and pines. Now shut up for a minute, I have to find our landing zone.”
|
This isn't my idea, Reddit user Xyronian came up with the quote in a totally different context. I thought it's an idea for a writing prompt. | [WP] "What do I dream of? I dream of fire. Ash. Pain. Silence." | "...I don't want to answer" Katie responded. Numb, from the forty minutes or so she lay in the chair.
"I see..." Dr. Rickman sighed. "Katie. I can not help you if you do not open up to me."
"I don't *need* help." Katie replied, exasperated. '*How many times do I need to tell him?*.' She was restless. Her sleep had dwindled ever since her incident. "I'm fine. I promise."
"If you are fine, Katie, then why are you here?" Dr. Rickman inquired. '*I will not give up trying Katie. I know something is amiss*' he thought.
Katie slowly takes in a breath. "I'm here because I'm being forced." She replied allowing her breath to take away some of her stress. '*It's not that I don't want help... It's that you won't believe me.*'
Dr. Rickman lifted his glasses and began to inspect the lenses. "You are being forced. I will not deny you that. Although, Katie, perhaps you should consider *why* you are being forced to see me?" His eyes shifting focus, staring deeply at Katie.
'*I know why I'm here. Just stop... Please*.' Katie sniffed and noticed a tear rolling down her cheek. She lifts her head and sits upright. "Fine. You want to know, I'll tell you. You won't believe me anyway."
"Try me." Dr. Rickman reached out and softly grabbed Katies hand. "You can trust me Katie."
Katie sighs. "Ever since the incident. If I am lucky enough to sleep, then I dream of a place."
"Tell me about this place Katie." Dr. Rickman implores. '*I need as much information as you are willing to give.*'
Katie looks down. "Well... It is a place, and it is not a place... If that makes sense?"
'*Not really.*' Dr. Rickman thought. But it was best not to let Katie know that. "Can you describe this place, Katie?"
"It's dark. There isn't much to see except a thick fog on the floor. So thick I can't see my feet. And it's flooded, up to my ankles at the least" Katie begins to slowly lift her gaze.
"Go on. What else?" Dr Rickman pushes, pen in hand, writing down each detail of this dream of Katie's.
"It's quiet." She whispered. Her eyes locked with Dr. Rickman's. "I want to move but I feel paralysed. I feel I shouldn't, I don't want to be there I just want to go away..." Tears streaking her cheeks now.
'*Good. This is good.*' Thinks Dr. Rickman. "And why do you feel paralysed Katie? What are you afraid of?" he prompts.
Katies eyes quiver. Her stare intense. "The flames. They come. Out of nowhere, erupting, as high as mountains. All around me, and, and... I can *feel* them... As if they were really there, I can truly feel them Doctor and it burns, it burns so much, each time I feel as if I'm stuck, for a hundred years in this great blaze which tears through my body, ripping skin from flesh, then flesh from bone and eventually... I am nothing... And the flames disappear." Katie begins to weep, gasping for air with each sniffle.
Dr. Rickman squeezes her hands lightly, assuring her that she is not in her dream, but in reality. "Here" He hands Katie a tissue. As Katie begins to wipe her tears and compose herself Dr. Rickman scratches down some more notes on his parchment.
"So then what happens Katie?" He asks.
"I wake up." Katie replies softly.
"Very good Katie, this is very good. I think this will be all for today, do you need me to walk you to your quarters?" Dr. Rickman inquires. Conscious about keeping his tone soft.
"No... I'll go alone..." Katie stands from the leather chair and moves towards the door.
"We'll continue next time Katie."
Katie stops at the door, "One more thing Doctor... When I awaken I notice... I notice... Ash..."
"I see... Thank you Katie"
Once she had left and the door close. Dr. Rickman lifts his parchment and begins to examine his notes. He reaches for his pen to scribble down one last note at the base of the parchment.
'Success. Patient No. 12 has shifted. After 11 failed experiments we have induced, through No. 12's *Incident* (See classified document No.1202), true trans-dimensional travel.'
Dr. Rickman places down his parchment and pen. '*She may have been a success... But what have we awoken in the darkness?*'
| For a time they were grateful. For a time my children and I lived in relative harmony. I’m so very tired. I have reached the outer limit of my exhaustion.
I have spent billions of years conditioning myself to incubate my children, to enable them to prosper in my protective womb and shelter them from the cold, dark realities that occupy most of reality. I spent my formative years dreaming of what life would be like with my family, hoping we could share that unconditional, unspoken bond which ties parent and child together. Instead, I have found that there is no such thing as unconditional love. I have learned the pain of rejection from those I brought into existence. I have choked on the gasses they pump into my air. I have fallen ill from the poisons they pour into my water. I have felt the burn of their weapons as they show no regard for each other, no regard for themselves, no regard for me.
They have felt my discontent. As a hound growls at the infant that pulls its tail, I have snapped at my own children. I have destroyed homes and ended lives, but my need to end all suffering is felt in my very core. They have felt my love. Now they shall feel my wrath.
I used to dream of love. Now what do I dream of? Fire, ash, pain. Silence.
|
[WP] After being cryogenically frozen you awaken in a large spaceship with what remains of humanity. They only woke you up to experiment on you, but after hundreds of generations in a low gravity environment, they are hilariously weak compared to you | "John?"
"Can you hear us John?"
The eery high pitched voices reverberated around the cabin. John fluttered his eyelids.
"Good morning. You have been asleep for hundreds of years John, you may feel a bit groggy but all our tests show that you are in perfect health. And most importantly, your strength should be the same as when you entered cryo."
"What? I'm gonna need a coffee... Have we landed on Alpha?"
As John sat up, he noticed the men looked very different.
"Yes, we have just landed so we woke you to give us a hand unpacking."
John laughed politely, "that coffee?"
"Oh right, here," One of the baby faced skeletal men pulled out a remote and twisted some dials. "That should take care of that."
John's eyes fully dilated, "Holy shit! What was that? I feel amazing!" John leapt out of the bed.
"Well it looks like our experiment was a success. We implanted a cerebral modifier in your head. With this remote," the twig armed scientist held up the remote, "we have full autonomy over your mental state. You are now enjoying my favourite 'morning blend'. It suppresses adenosine with a dash of dopamine. Kind of like a mild speed ball. Now, let me just un-suppress your adenosine..."
John's mind whirred with the stimulant enhancement, then he came crashing down. And down.... And down.... Until he slumped on the floor unable to move.
"Sorry we didn't want you lashing out at us once you learnt your predicament."
"My predicament?" John slurred.
"You see, It's going to be hard for us to build a society with our meagre muscles. We can't even open the hatch to leave. So we thought it best to make slaves from all the cryo sleepers."
"And what exactly will you do if we refuse?" John said, barely.
"Well, we've had a long time to formulate the most effective method of cooperation. Now what you are about to experience is available to you every night, for hours, if you do what we ask." The noodle limbed scientist twisted a few knobs to maximum and pressed a few buttons.
John felt his energy rise back to normal levels. But before he could do anything, he felt... love. For everything. Happiness flooded into him like a flood. He couldn't stop himself from crying, the emotional rush was so intense, so pure, it was unadulterated bliss. He looked around the ship, smiling so hard he sprained a lip. His joyful laughter echoed across the room. He had never felt so good, not even close.
The lanky remote wielding man smiled knowingly, then pressed a button, bring John back to normal. What was supposedly normal, to John, felt like a dim crust of his former self.
"Okay," John conceded. "I'm not going to argue, i'm sure you've thought this through. Just tell me what you want me to do and I will do it, anything."
"Very good. Now please Open the hatch and then start carrying our luggage out."
| "What? Where am I?", He asks realizing he is on the wrong side of one way glass in a bleak, grey room, empty with the exception of the chair he is seated in, firmly nailed in the ground and the table he is handcuffed to.
A slight man, wearing a white lab coat, armed with a pen, notepad and chair to sit in enters the room from the lone door. The man places down the chair across from him and calmly says to him, "Ahh, I'm glad you have awoken; I apologize for the restraints, protocol for awakening those who were under. Hello patient 18747, I am James, the head of the department that woke you from your cryo-slumber. You were one of the few that was frozen and pod survived the war untouched. We would like to run some tests on you."
18747 responds, "What war? I was meant to only be frozen for a week as a part of the experiment at the university near where I lived. Where am I?" Still puzzled from his current surroundings.
"There was a nuclear war that brought the earth to it's knees, few inhabitants made it out on ships such as this in hopes of finding a new world, a paradise if you will. We realize you are shocked by the development of your current situation but, you were specially selected to be a part of a test group, you did not stumble across that flier on accident" explains James in the same calm tone. He precedes to write a few notes of 18747's reaction down on the notepad but, there appears to be nothing on the page. "Now you will be subjected to many tests to see what caused you to remain in cryo-sleep safely while many others in your group wilted within in the nuclear fallout." His pen clicks and 18747 blacks out.
Upon waking back up 18747 realizes that he has changed rooms to a white, padded room with what appears to be all the tools needed for surgery on his left while on his right there is a table of needles, some filled with uncomfortably colorful liquid and others that are empty. He attempts to raise his arm only to realize that the only part of him that can move is his eyes, mouth, and toes.
Over the loudspeaker located behind him a woman's voice echoes through the room "Test subject 18747. 2207 hours, third day since awakening. Test chemical A1 being prepared. Subject is paralyzed. Drug unlikely to vary the results." It sharply cuts off and two people enter the room in hazmat suits,both seem to be of a similar slight build to James. The needle enters 18747s arm and he hears a click.
He later wakes up woozy with a slight headache and feeling weakened back in the grey room in the same spot with James again across from him still holding the pen and notepad. Looking down, 18747 notices that has one needle mark on each arm, with one arm being noticeably more pale than the other. James asks him how he is. 18747 is astonished, still baffled at what has occurred in his lone hour of rememberable consciousness and responds, "What? What is going on here" in a noticeably angered tone. James, in his ever calm manor, states "You are doing better than anticipated. Your test results are very promising. We are going to continue testing you to see if these results continue to be useful and show us how to better rebuild mankind." He clicks his pen, out again.
Rinse, wash, repeat.
"Test subject 18747" again echoes over the loudspeaker, "2200 hours, forty-eighth day since awakening B18 being prepared. Subject is restrained heavily and lightly drugged."
Two Hazmat suits.
Needle.
Out.
Grey room.
18747 is boiling from anger from the constant druggings and lack of control of self awareness, still handcuffed to the table and chair. James enters the room, pen in his chest pocket and bearing no notebook. When he sits down in the chair 18747 decides to try to break through the restraints only to notice they are broken with ease. 18747 stands up for the first time in his memorable past on this ship and drills the now struck with fear James seated across from him in the side of the head with a quick right hook and he feels his skull crumple as if he hit cardboard with nothing behind it. Before the door can be reached, bars drop from the celling, blocking off the exit.
In a moment of panic, he grabs the chair James fell out of and hurls it into the one way glass, shattering it. Climbing into the next room he finds there is only a computer screen bearing the message, precede to the next level.
| |
[WP] The first manned mission to Mars discovers an ancient spacecraft, buried atop what was once a mountain peak. Its dimensions correspond to those of Noah's Ark. On board is what appears to be a DNA repository. | Yahweh pull over his hood and placed on his mask as he stepped off his cruiser. The acid rain was only lightly falling here but in the distance he could see the ominous dark green clouds coming towards the mountain top.
"Its over Yahweh, this world is dead." A women spoke as she hopped off the cruiser behind him.
He nodded slowly as he looked one last time at the ruined city which was once his home. "Go ahead and get to the transports, I will see to it that the Ark's preservation is secured. This world may be doomed but humanity is not without hope."
By chance, there was another planet in the system which was capable of bearing life. They had sent missions there before, the atmosphere was not entirely the same composition but over the years he believed they could adapt. The gravity there was also much stronger but eventually, humanity would grow stronger too.
The woman grabbed him by the shoulder and stared into his eyes. "You don't need to do this. You said yourself that Noah is the most advanced A.I. you ever created."
The old man shook his head as he gently took her hand of his shoulder. "If there is anything I've learned, it is that something always goes wrong. It was due to the arrogance of old men like me that things have become this way. Now it is up to you to lead the younger generation, you will have a fresh start and do much better than we ever did."
"But father!" Eve shouted, but was quickly cut off as a bolt of lightning crackled in the distance. The storm was approaching.
"Goodbye Eve." The old man looked one last time at her with determined yet fond eyes. "Make sure they remember what happened. Make sure they do not create the same mistakes we did." With that he turned away and walked into the large spacecraft which housed the DNA of his people. The Arc was there as a backup plan, if the transports did not reach the new planet or for whatever reason the human colonies did not last. The Arc would start the species over from scratch. They had hopes that Mars would eventually recover but if it did not. The Arc also had enough fuel to make the journey to Earth.
"Noah, initiate the Arc procedures." Yahweh said in a gruff voice.
"Greetings, Dr. Yahweh." The virtual image of a young bearded man appeared on the command deck. Hibernation procedures have begun going into effect. However, I regret to inform you that as the atmosphere continues to collapse we will not have enough oxygen to keep you alive."
"I am aware of that. I am just here to serve as a mechanic once the worst of the storm hits. Once that is over, keeping me alive will no longer be necessary."
"I see, is there anything else I can do for you before I enter power-saving mode?"
The A.I. did not truly understand sadness but it was quite successful at emulating the emotion.
"Actually, I would love a view. It is not everyday you get to watch the world end."
The blast doors slid open on the command deck giving Yahweh a complete view of the city below. The acidic flash floods had already began to eat at the foundation of the buildings causing them to collapse.
"Goodbye Dr. Yahweh, now entering power-saving state."
"Goodnight Noah, sleep well and know I will be watching over you." Yahweh replied in a cool voice. Then it went dark.
*4,000 years later*
Captain Myron cursed as his 2nd fusion cutter ran out of juice. Whoever created this spaceship made it to survive one hell of a beating. Using the last fusion cutter, he let out a loud whooping noise as the mountaintop door gave way. The inside was pitch black, switching on their lights, the astronauts slowly moved into the spaceship.
"This is Captain Myron of the Ares team. Recording is now live, are you reading Houston."
"We are picking up your feed." A voice from NASA replied. "Tell your team to proceed with caution, this is an unprecedented situation."
It was not long that the explorers found the skeleton sitting alone in the command rooms single chair. Myron moved closer to get a better recording but was interrupted by a calm voice.
"Systems returning online." Noah spoke for the first time in thousands of years. "Greetings Humans, you are ahead of schedule but I am pleased to report that 74% of total DNA storage is still safely preserved."
"DNA?" Myron asked in a confused voice. "Are you getting this NASA?"
However, Noah continued without regard for his questions. "I am Noah, overseer of the Arc. Are you descendants of Eve?"
"Umm like the bible? I guess you could say that, though personally I'd just say we are Earthlings."
"Understood, colonization of new world was success. Ark preservation no longer required. Initiating Victory protocol per Dr. Yahweh's orders. I advise you to leave."
The entire ship began to shake as the AI began its countdown. "Captain, get out of there now!" A voice yelled in his radio.
"Don't need to tell me that." Myron muttered. "Team fall back to the rover! Double-time!"
The team of astronauts made it out and to a safe distance with time to spare. Once the count reached zero the starship took off and began to fly into outer space. However, once it breached the thin atmosphere that remained on the dead planet. It exploded in a bright flash. The pieces rained down from the sky with multiple different colors trailing behind them. If Myron had to describe it, he would say he saw a rainbow. | Then he opened up his eyes just to see his closest friend, his lone friend on Mars, perish in a bizarre explosion.
DNA They said, so many of us have died for this DNA, so much money has been
wasted, so much time has been lost.
What for ?
The people with answers were patiently waiting back on Earth while them worthless people where in a killing spree to see who's got the DNA sample.
Not him, for sure, he was still alive but could barely walk straight, let alone run.
His friend convinced him to leave sweet Bucuresti for this mission.
"With all the money we'll make, we will be kings of the eastern galaxies "
Hell yeah,now he was dust floating in a red rocky planet. And there was something else, something not human, not terrestrian at least.
Ever since Connor has landed on Mars, he's feel watched, no cameras of course, no eyes, but still watched.
Two days ago they came across a merc team who was also trying to locate the DNA sample, they had been brainwashed to believe this sample would be the solution to Earth problems, they didnt seem to realize how scary this sentence was.
The Area next to Noah's Ark was out of reach now, fierce fighting during the initial days had ended up in a trench war where no one was able to secure a perimeter.
One of the team leaded by the famous Corsaire Mista Disasta tried bombing the Ark but it was protected by some unknown energy field.
Masta was then pushed away by some other heroes and villains.
Connor last chance was to find a doctor and find a group to team-up.
Masta forces?
| |
[WP] The first manned mission to Mars discovers an ancient spacecraft, buried atop what was once a mountain peak. Its dimensions correspond to those of Noah's Ark. On board is what appears to be a DNA repository. | "What the heck have we found here, Commander?" Tully swiped through the images on her handheld display. There was something big buried beneath the red Martian sand close to the Flagship Crew's base.
"Got me. I'll radio base. You get as much info together as you can til we hear back. Base, this is Flagship - I'm sending you -" Commander Leeds trailed off as he left Tully's quarters.
Earlier, flight engineer Stevenson was out taking some geological samples as was usual, when he struck rock. The normal procedure was to take note of this and move to another site, but for whatever reason - some twist of fate - he took out his trowel and dug until the obstacle was uncovered. But it wasn't rock. It was metal. He sat dusting the small shiny patch right up until his oxygen metre maid blared a warning inside his helmet. He was entranced by the metal. It had overlapping seems, not unlike cladding. And definitely not the work of nature.
He returned to base and broke the news to the others amidst cries of 'Hurry up' and 'Out with it', as his enthusiasm caused an intense relapse of stuttering.
At first, the others were sceptical. He didn't blame them. Space sickness was not unheard of and known to cause 'visions' and hysteria. So they kitted up and followed Stevenson to the site; and all took a turn poking, dusting, scanning, and frowning at the metal plate. Then came the excitement.
"Anything new?" Stevenson poked his head over Tully's shoulder.
"I was just about to buzz you. Look." She gave the display to Stevenson. It showed a rough red outline with web like hairs in-between, giving it a 3-d look.
"C - Christ on a c - crutch." Stevenson muttered.
Tully nodded, "Uh-huh."
The outline looked like nothing from some angles, but if rotated just right it started to take on a shape; semi circular with a flat top and curved base. Extremely similar to a boat.
During dinner, the Flagship crew gathered around the projection screen and swapped theories about the mysterious thing. Base had sent a reply and orders soon after Commander Leeds' message transmitted.
Flagship was to excavate the structure over the coming weeks in lieu of all other responsibilities and fix it to their secondary rocket, Harpy B. Then send Harpy B back home on auto-pilot. Tully was not a fan of this plan and made her concerns well known. Harpy was the only backup in case of some kind of failure with the main rocket. But base insisted - and managed to work in not so sly mentions of commendations and bonuses for the entire crew in their response. Those cherries won over Tully, and everyone else.
A bottle of Mars's finest wine was opened then, and everyone toasted to Stevenson and his trowel.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harpy B reached Earth 237 days later.
It was secured in a bio dome immediately, then hauled to an undocumented location.
Scientists of all descriptions poured over the discovery. It was fifty feet long and ten feet wide, though the metal alone set hearts racing. It was incredibly light and strong. It had to have been processed - which meant someone or something had *made* this.
A team of brains nicknamed The Trust, headed by a brilliant and revered man known by DePol, scribbled their marks on stacks of papers binding them to oaths of silence. Then they suited up in outfits not unlike their space faring cousins, and entered the vault where Item A was kept.
It didn't take them long to open the Boat, as it was nicknamed due to its appearance. It's name turned out to be more prophetical than they'd ever imagined when they found several small cubes inside.
Each cube was marked: |, ||, |||, and so on up to thirteen.
These were much easier to unlock, in fact they weren't locked at all. More goodies awaited. Rows and rows of thin membranes covered in hundreds of millions of tiny dots per sheet were retrieved from inside the cubes.
These membranes and their dots were examined, and found to be DNA. Each dot a sample from a different set.
Everyone involved worked with a careful and calm demeanour to disguise the turbulent thoughts and emotions beneath. People were becoming uneasy during the deepening investigation. No one was allowed to leave for fear of mental breakdowns and very explosive cans being opened to the public.
A deep crisis was guaranteed to anyone who came into contact with the Boat. Now known to the few closest to it as Noah's Ark.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Report from Dr Leonard DePol
Clearance Level: 6
Classification Level: Black
----DO NOT COPY----
 
For: General William Silva
See Werner for digital version--
 
DNA - Case 1
Unknown DNA
No known counterparts/matches in records
DNA - Case 2
Unknown DNA
No known counterparts/matches in records
DNA - Case 3
98% Unknown DNA, no matches/counterparts
2% Matches samples from Precambrian Era - see file 1 pages 368 through 1124 for list and detail
DNA - Case 4
46% Unknown DNA, no matches/counterparts
54% Matches samples from Paleozoic to early Mesozoic Eras - see file 14 pages 2345 through 9978 for list and detail
DNA - Case 5
44% Unknown DNA, no matches/counterparts
56% Matches samples from Mesozoic Era - see file 24 pages 13 through 11987 for list and detail
DNA case 6\*
0% Unknown DNA
100% Matches samples from Cenozoic Era onward - see entirety of files 1 through 12 for lists and details
DNA - Case 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12\*
Unknown DNA
No known counterparts/matches in records
DNA - Case 13\*
79% Unknown DNA
21% Matches samples of Viral Diseases - see file 13 pages 655 through 5657 for list and detail
 
\*You aren't going to know what to do with this info General, but I'll try to break down the important parts for you. Case 6 has a large share of Human DNA. My team and I didn't understand why there were so many human samples in it. Around seventy billion. On a whim I cross checked the samples with myself. I'm in there. My DNA is. My teams is. More so, our whole DNA repository tested positive. You are too, I checked personally on your behalf. And we still haven't scratched the surface. You know that more than seventy billion human or human related lives have existed? I know you know that much. Now I see there are too few samples. Are we recycled here? That's what this suggests. We're all recycled.
Cases 7 - 12 have DNA samples that we can't identify. Going chronologically - see what I'm getting at, Bill? DNA from the past. From now. From the future. We are only step 6 according to Pandoras Box. We aren't in case 7. Understand? This will be making your mind swim I'm sure. I'm having a breakdown and I'm not shy to admit. Everyone around me is. You will too.
Case 13 is full of the bad stuff. Diseases. Most of them we have no clue about.
 
We have found more information than we know what to do with. This can't get out. Ever.
I am giving my O.K to project Tinfoil. I suggest you put it into effect immediately.
Best wishes, DePol.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
----CLASSIFIED----
----DO NOT COPY----
----DESTROY AFTER READING----
 
For: REDACTED
 
Operation: Tinfoil
Status: Success (CLOSED)
Item N.A - Location: REDACTED
Space shuttle Harpy B destroyed.
Space shuttle Harpy destroyed - all Flagship occupants deceased. Reported as instrument malfunction/accidental.
Containment yard Alpha destroyed.
Personnel of The Trust - deceased. Reported as accidental/medical.
Personnel of REDACTED base, REDACTED - deceased. Reported as accidental/medical.
Personnel of Setup Team - deceased. Reported as accidental/medical.
Personnel of Recovery Team - deceased. Reported as accidental/medical.
Personnel of Division Three - deceased. Reported as accidental/medical.
 
Signed, William Silva
| Arkady's legs ached, but it was a good ache. He hadn't walked that much for a while now. Always in a car — spoiled, complacent. But no car would get him there, to the edge of the forest, and now he enjoyed the hike, the fresh air, pinecones and needles beneath his feet.
As he reached the hilltop he saw it, and forgot to breathe. The mirrorgrass. Grey-silver, it stained the fields below, mercury spilled by some careless giant. And just as deadly. The grass had no chance. The trees had no chance. The insects, then the birds…
He would have to burn it all.
----------------------------------
No one knew who let the grass out. No country was ready to take responsibility, and the DNA from the ship was shared between so many. A scientific discovery as important as a discovery of fire, a religious symbol — a cosmic Noah's Ark.
And it was an Ark. Millions of species, classified, archived. All — unknown, alien. And yet, no description of purpose. No story of cataclysm. Just a library of life, left to interpretation.
----------------------------------
May poked the pigeon again, but it didn't move anymore. She sighed. Yes, pigeons were dirty and boring. She and the other kids counted finches, and parrots, but no one counted pigeons. No one liked them.
And yet. There was something she liked even less — things that replaced them, killed them. She saw those only a few times, at a glance, their translucent bodies, their geometric shapes. They looked kind of neat, and she should have liked them. But she didn't. They were too sneaky.
So sneaky that even her mother wouldn't believe her.
----------------------------------
The DNA of the ark-species was complex, convoluted. It wasn't a surprise. After all our DNA is full of non-coding, "junk" DNA. But in ark-species there was no junk. There was redundancy. There was support.
Millions of species. And in each one, all the others.
----------------------------------
"Hold on to the net" Mark smiled to the novice. "Great job! Now pull." They both pulled. Mark breathed the salty air, cleared by the morning's rain. It was going to be great day. "Once more!"
The net toppled into the ship, bringing in fish and other sea creatures. Good catch.
"What is this?" asked the novice. Mark squinted against the sun. In the net was a creature he had never seen before -- a pale yellow sphere with a spiral cut, as large as his head. The fish around it, captured close to it, was dead, bloated, black.
The sphere pulsated slowly.
----------------------------------
Millions of species. And how many ships? But it wasn't the mirrorgrass that built the ship, and not amberworms, or prismzeppelins. It wasn't them who sent the ship out, who thought of redundancy, who foresaw the curiosity that opens Pandora's boxes.
Who are they?
And how long have we left? | |
[WP] The first manned mission to Mars discovers an ancient spacecraft, buried atop what was once a mountain peak. Its dimensions correspond to those of Noah's Ark. On board is what appears to be a DNA repository. | Steve raced down the mountainside in his hover-buggy. At the base he rushed into the lab. "Adam! I found the source of the reflection. It was a metal ship! Had to breach the Martian atmosphere to get it. Here, take a look." Steve fished in his pockets and brought out a metallic boat.
Adam stared at it for five minutes, mouth ajar. "Let's get a closer look"
Steve watched the monitor which displayed the microscope's feed. Clearly printed on the ship's side, was a written warning: KEEP ARC ABOVE 10000m TO AVOID DNA REPLICATION.
"Well it's a bit late for that," Adam said.
"DNA replication? What is -" Steve stopped speaking and just stared slack jawed at the screen. From the boats entrance, flailing white tendrils emerged. On the ships decks, green stems protruded from port holes and other various orifices. They shot out into the air, aiming for the nearest lightsource. By this stage the entire entrance to the ship was blocked with, what appeared to be, explosive vegetative growth.
"Put it outside, now." Steve murmured.
Adam picked up the ship with some tongs. Vines had now climbed up the mast and were swinging around trying to find purchase. Before they could attach to Adam, the arc was placed on Martian soil.
Once the Alien plants touched the soil, the growth took off. White tendrils dove into the ground and could be seen racing below the surface at a decent clip. The ship bulged under the strain, until finally ripping open.
"Those plants just ripped through metal.." Adam said in awe.
Steve watched a single green stem steadily growing in height, it climbed to a metre in about ten seconds, then it bent over under its own weight, until its tip touched the ground, forming a 'n' shape. The apex of the 'n' disintegrated leaving two new stems, both thicker than the original which began to repeat the process.
Every plant was something completely alien and grew at exponential rates. After only a couple of minutes Steve and Adam rushed to their ship before it became consumed.
The took off just as blue spindly lashings began grabbing at the craft's landing feet. They hovered in the air watching a jungle spread across the martian surface. The 'jungle' was a lot more complex than any system they had seen on earth. Great big sheets of green lay parallel to the ground, pointing at the sun like solar panels. Some trees emerged up to fifty metres tall, Adam and Steve watched as brown bark blades emerged from the tip and begun to spun like a windmill.
"It looks like the plants here are a lot better at harvesting energy," Adam commented.
Steve just stared transfixed as the growth spread towards the horizon. Once the windmill tree started spinning, a whole crop of ten metre tall black stalks sprouted up nearby. From these, a thin leafy sail emerged and quickly filled with wind. A bark base formed underneath them, severing their contact with the ground. The plant yachts all took off in various directions. As they sailed past, other forms of vegetation hitched a ride and travelled over the horizon.
They noticed some plants becoming discoloured and wilted. "Looks like nutrient deficiency," said Adam. "I'm not surprised. They have a lot of competition."
Other plants must have sensed the shortage, a magnificent single flower the size of a building began sending out vines which constricted around other plants, crushing them. Orbs began lobbing into the air, upon landing they would infect surrounding vegetation, transforming them into the original 'orb lobbing plant'. The giant windmill trees grew mini windmills at their base which spun fast like a blender, mincing nearby plants. It was full blown warfare.
Plants started growing thick black defensive exteriors. And their weapons became more complex. The destructive orbs were lobbed faster and faster until they were bullets, ripping through any plant which lacked armour. A couple of plant yachts sailed just above the surface, a razor thin vine held between them. They decapitated anything that stood in their path.
The solar sheets grew flower like reflector cones which channeled the sun into fiery lasers. The Jungle was quickly transformed into an inferno. Those that survived the flames grew pods which transmitted swarms of insects. These could infiltrate the metallic armour around the remaining plants. The insects were countered with more and more complex forms of life until intelligent beings were created to protect their host plants.
The beings were small but they worked and advanced faster than the plants did. With the war for resources getting out of hand, they saw only one way to ensure their plant's survival. By communicating with other beings they built an arc in which they stored their plants dna. They flew the arc up to the mountains summit where it pierced the atmosphere, keeping it safe from the mounting warzone below and freezing the DNA. Eventually the plants advanced to nuclear warfare rendering the entire planet uninhabitable. The beings inside the ship could no longer support themselves and perished with the plants. The dust settled, revealing the red Martian planet.
"Well, I guess we can land again now." Steve said. | Arkady's legs ached, but it was a good ache. He hadn't walked that much for a while now. Always in a car — spoiled, complacent. But no car would get him there, to the edge of the forest, and now he enjoyed the hike, the fresh air, pinecones and needles beneath his feet.
As he reached the hilltop he saw it, and forgot to breathe. The mirrorgrass. Grey-silver, it stained the fields below, mercury spilled by some careless giant. And just as deadly. The grass had no chance. The trees had no chance. The insects, then the birds…
He would have to burn it all.
----------------------------------
No one knew who let the grass out. No country was ready to take responsibility, and the DNA from the ship was shared between so many. A scientific discovery as important as a discovery of fire, a religious symbol — a cosmic Noah's Ark.
And it was an Ark. Millions of species, classified, archived. All — unknown, alien. And yet, no description of purpose. No story of cataclysm. Just a library of life, left to interpretation.
----------------------------------
May poked the pigeon again, but it didn't move anymore. She sighed. Yes, pigeons were dirty and boring. She and the other kids counted finches, and parrots, but no one counted pigeons. No one liked them.
And yet. There was something she liked even less — things that replaced them, killed them. She saw those only a few times, at a glance, their translucent bodies, their geometric shapes. They looked kind of neat, and she should have liked them. But she didn't. They were too sneaky.
So sneaky that even her mother wouldn't believe her.
----------------------------------
The DNA of the ark-species was complex, convoluted. It wasn't a surprise. After all our DNA is full of non-coding, "junk" DNA. But in ark-species there was no junk. There was redundancy. There was support.
Millions of species. And in each one, all the others.
----------------------------------
"Hold on to the net" Mark smiled to the novice. "Great job! Now pull." They both pulled. Mark breathed the salty air, cleared by the morning's rain. It was going to be great day. "Once more!"
The net toppled into the ship, bringing in fish and other sea creatures. Good catch.
"What is this?" asked the novice. Mark squinted against the sun. In the net was a creature he had never seen before -- a pale yellow sphere with a spiral cut, as large as his head. The fish around it, captured close to it, was dead, bloated, black.
The sphere pulsated slowly.
----------------------------------
Millions of species. And how many ships? But it wasn't the mirrorgrass that built the ship, and not amberworms, or prismzeppelins. It wasn't them who sent the ship out, who thought of redundancy, who foresaw the curiosity that opens Pandora's boxes.
Who are they?
And how long have we left? | |
[WP] Upon reaching the level of interstellar travel we discover that the human race is woefully under-equipped to deal with any alien species in any capacity. It is explained to us, slowly, that Earth is the equivalent of a special needs classroom. | I sat across the table from a hologram. I knew it was a hologram by the way it flickered and because they told me. I had no idea who was controlling it or what they looked like. I was the first diplomat from Earth and the aliens wouldn't even talk face-to-face. Or whatever they had.
We intercepted a signal from deep space two years ago. It was clearly an artificial signal. The world went crazy for a day or two after we confirmed that we are not alone in the universe. Then things mostly returned to normal for the vast majority of humanity. After all, just because aliens are out there doesn't mean we don't have to pay the rent or file TPS reports.
We sent signal after signal beamed in the direction of the first signal's origin and what we estimated its target was. We had entire power plants turned over for powering the tightly focused radio signal. The project started off with great fanfare and then, as these things do, the public's attention drifted long before we saw any results. This was setup as a government office however and the one thing government employees excel at more than anything else is maintaining their job. I heard stories of office setup to address an impending buggy whip crisis in the nineteenth century that were still going strong. So our little shout into the void project crept merrily along.
Three months ago, we received a reply. It was short - almost terse. It took us several weeks to crack it but we finally figured out it was a time and a place along with a decryption key at the front. After much hand-wringing and back-room dealing, I was named as the Ambassador. The first Ambassador of Earth. A representative to the stars and the first to meet our galactic neighbors.
I underwent a crash course in Astronautics. The time for the meeting was coming up closely and the location was partway between the Moon and Earth. It would take me almost two days of flying weightless to reach it. All the governments of Earth contributed to the mission since nobody had any kind of ship ready on such short notice. NASA even pulled an old Saturn V out of a museum to get me up there. I went with two professional astronauts who would handle all the driving. The press called it the world's most expensive Uber.
We flew. I puked. A lot. I probably would have died if Commander Rankin hadn't hooked me up to an IV. We met the ship exactly where and when it said. The ship is hard to describe other than "alien", though I'm sure you've seen the pictures sent back. It reached out with some kind of force field and gently pulled out capsule in.
Once we were in the bay, we felt gravity kick in and dropped to the floor. The hatch popped open and we found the whole bay was now pressurized. There was a lighted walkway with animated arrows. I assumed, correctly, that I was supposed to follow it. At the end of a short walk, I found myself in this tiny conference room staring at a hologram of a human. Not a particularly remarkable human. More like someone had said "I want the most middle of the road boring face you've got" and this is the result.
"Welcome to our ship. We are glad you could make it." The hologram spoke slowly and in short sentences. "That was very brave."
"Uh, yes, thank you. Anyway, on behalf of Earth, welcome to our solar system. We hope that we can be friends."
"Oh no, I don't think that's a very good idea."
"Pardon?"
"Friends. We can't be friends. We came here to ask you to stop shouting that message at our colony."
"Oh, um, yes. We can shut that off."
"Good for you!"
I wondered if aliens had a word for "patronizing."
"Once that's off, we could setup a cultural exchange, perhaps? Maybe discuss a trade partnership."
"I'm afraid not. That wouldn't work at all."
"But you haven't ever heard what we're offering."
"Well, that is true. But you don't have anything we want."
"How do you know that if you haven't seen it?"
"We've been observing - sorry, we've been watching you for a long time. I'll try to explain simply. Your planet is a little ... slow. Backwards. Developmentally delayed."
"Are you calling my whole planet stupid?"
"Yes - very good for following along!"
"How can you say that? We have all sorts of technology. The Internet, electricity, MRI machines, nuclear weapons." Oops. It's something of a faux pas in diplomatic circles to bring up the fact that one has nuclear weapons on the first date. It's a bit unseemly.
"I know, you must be so very proud."
"You're patronizing me, aren't you?"
"That's a very big word for you to use and you did it correctly. Yes, I am 'patronizing' you."
"But you still don't think we have anything worthwhile."
"No. Listen, you seem bright for a human so I'll take a little extra time. You don't have artificial gravity. That ship you came here in? I'm not even legally allowed to let you leave in because it's such a safety risk. I'll have to personally take you back to Earth. You don't have quantum computers. You don't have any ideas on how to travel faster than light. My goodness, you're still burning ancient dead plants for power in most of your advanced countries. You don't even have half the fundamental concepts you'd need for me to fully tell you just how backwards you are. You are literally too ignorant to know how stupid you are. Sorry."
"Then why the broadcast? The one we found two years ago?"
"That was an accident. A child was playing with their first zarook -" here whatever was translating lost its mind and made a sound like a cross between a squirrel being pushed through a garbage disposal and the Hulk pooping out an entire roll of sheet metal "- and an actual radio signal slipped out."
"A child? That was a highly organized data stream. It had an enormous snout of power to reach across space. You're telling me it was some kid screwing around?"
"He was grounded."
I had never felt so dejected in my life. My whole species was reduced to nothing in a few short comments.
"Maybe you could help us? Teach us?"
I had never heard a laugh like that. I wouldn't have even know it was a laugh if the hologram hadn't tossed back its head in a traditional laughing posture.
The ride home was very quiet. I sat in the capsule with the two astronauts while the aliens brought us home. They put us down very safely and comfortably in Florida, just outside of NASA. I was dreading the report I would have to file and the inevitable follow-up questions. I briefly considering making up a story about how they were evil and were planning to invade. I'd get the whole world spun up to go fight the aliens. But then I realized if what the one aliens said was true, we wouldn't stand a chance. Hell, we'd probably kill ourselves before we even made it to their planet. | Xarthor was torn. A part of him wanted to mock the arrogant humans who practically declared themselves as "special" and "the most blah-blah-blah" (Xarthor stopped paying attention halfway through their 'boast').
On the other hand, Xarthor was a Felixton, and therefore it was below him to insult such a "special" species. Instead, he nodded along with the humans, even as they were being escorted to the Basic Learning Center (BLC).
"Humans are warriors! We have..."
Xarthor zoned the humans out and diverted his attention to his chronometer ("Not a watch, human!) To think, humans were OBVIOUSLY the only species to invent devices for telling time.
"In here, humans," Xarthor said, motioning the humans in to the BLC.
One of the humans, Chad, stode cockily towards him. Chad was the worst of the group.
"We have facilities like these, too. But ours are more focused on-"
Xarthor used his superior strength to easily shove the group of humans in to the BLC. He had tried explaining to the humans via telepathy how they were "special needs"... if it weren't for Chad annoying the fuck out of him. He sighed.
Next time, &£@/##} was going to take care of the special needs group. | |
[WP] Humanity is isolated in enclosed cities, the only method of contact and transport between them are heavily armored and well armed military trains. The reasons for this are unknown, but one thing is feared by the humans and that is a derailment in the middle of nowhere. | I was nervous as hell. As a soldier assigned to the armored surface rail transport unit, this was my fifth trip. It was always a bit boring, scanning the tracks and brush, but no one ever mentioned what it was that actually presented the danger we were protecting against. And just last week, four units that were supposed to arrive here from New Raleigh never made it.
"Roll out!" The heavy metal doors shuttered and released a dust cloud into the sky as they opened. We lurched forward, barely moving at first. My buddy Jang manned the scanner this time, and I sat behind the Car1 weapons controls. The driver and co-drivers chatted with each other as I tried to peek out their front-facing window. All I could catch was a glimpse of dust. We were a train, but without windows. Windows were weak points in the armor--supposedly. No one ever figured out what it was that caused these transport units to disappear, so there was nothing left for forensics and engineers to improve upon. Instead, they kept building up the armor plating, adding the most sensitive weapons, using the newest super-materials on the RailGRIP wheels and shock-absorbing floor, and so forth.
We had some communications and passengers on board, but our mission was to hopefully recover anything that was left of last week's units. No one ever found anything, which is funny for missing trains. Trains stay on tracks, or at least close by. Send a second train, and eventually you should run into the first train right?
We started picking up the pace. I felt like I was in the belly of a heavy metal whale, accelerating through a dark ocean. I could hear nervous chatter from the civilian passengers in the back.
"Anything interesting on the scanner today Jang?" I asked. "I think we went by a herd of some kind of animal out there last time."
Jang scoffed. "Deer? Seriously? You know those things went extinct long ago, must have been radioactive dust devils again."
"You know that I know what those look like on the scanner." I readjusted my seat--the seats had a tendency to give me a numb butt after a while. "Anyway, how's the wife?"
"Good. She hates when I leave. Gave me a little St. Joe here," Jang said, motioning to the patron saint of trains dangling on a rosary he wore on his wrist. Protection against derailments.
"Ah, I need to get me one of those."
"Like it did those guys last week any good."
I tried to force a chuckle. We sat in silence for a while.
"Sorry to hear about your fiancé," Jang said in a low voice. "He was a great guy. He--" he coughed. "He might still be out there."
I just nodded. Sean was on the last missing train from New Raleigh. It hadn't really dawned on me yet. We all lost people on the trains.
Suddenly the drivers started whispering in a panicked tone. The one at the navigation controls grew extremely pale.
"Hey what's up?" I asked.
"We're on track--but the tracks are taking us way off our specified route." Her brows furrowed. "I don't understand. It seems like we've been traveling in a totally tangential direction for a while now."
Jang shook his head. "That doesn't make sense, we have one track to New Raleigh--no forks or anything. Right?"
The driver nudged her partner. "Hey should we slow down?"
I felt the great metal whale shudder as it gradually slowed. Someone from the back shouted.
"Please keep calm," I announced in the onboard mic to the civilians, hoping I was keeping my voice steadier than my nerves. "We're just checking our navigation system, everything's on track."
As we began screeching towards a full stop, I noticed the drivers were staring out the window, and angled myself to see what they were looking at.
The dusty landscape seemed to--falter, somehow. There was a flash of green. As the weight of the train pushed us forward with a final lunge, the entire landscape fell apart, and was immediately replaced by lush green plants and trees. There were birds.
"Oh my God," Jang breathed as he looked at the scanner. "This can't be right, something's really off here."
Suddenly we heard a sweet female voice coming from the onboard audio system, but not from any of the mics:
"WELCOME TO THE REST OF EARTH. I AM ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE ENTITY MELANIE. APOLOGIES FOR TAKING OVER YOUR INTERCOM."
Naturally, everyone panicked. AI wasn't supposed to be around. We phased out all AI and proto-AI networked technology over the last couple of centuries. Oh Lord. This was worse than I had possibly imagined.
Melanie waited. We weren't coming out, but we couldn't leave either, she had total control of the train. Eventually we calmed down, and she continued.
Melanie explained that she was part of an AI super-intelligence that survived the war. As the last remnants of humankind struggled to rebuild itself within its bunkers, the super-intelligence did the same. It was more effective. And it worked on a peculiar mandate--restoring Earth.
It sealed off the humans, simulating a continued wasteland, as it regrew entire biomes around our city compounds and transport rails. It calculated that humans tended to disrupt the environment when introduced in the wrong way. But now it was ready to present us with a restored Earth, robust enough to withstand human activity, one trainload at a time. Each track had an invisible lever, shifting the train off the simulation.
We slowly exited the train, wary of the landscape. I swear there was something almost fluorescent about the plants. None of us had ever seen so much green in our lives.
"HOW DO YOU LIKE IT?"
It was strange. Melanie sounded almost like an eager child, wanting our approval. We just stared, slackjawed.
Downhill from our train, there was a sparkling city. I could see the the glare from glass and water fountains. People were down there. I noticed there were other abandoned armored trains nearby.
"I HAVE ARRANGED FOR A NEWLY INCREASED RATE OF HUMAN INTRODUCTION INTO THIS RESTORED ENVIRONMENT. YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY WILL BE HERE SOON. PLEASE MAKE YOURSELVES AT HOME."
I didn't finish listening before I started running, as fast as I could without falling down the hill. I could see Sean waiting for me.
-----
No one caught that I made Joe Biden a literal saint? | It used to be that you could just ride the rails between towns, hopping on and off trains as you pleased. You got to know the usuals on a given stretch of track, folks who had favorite stops and conductors, who knew which stations had the best pickings and which farmers would pay you for an honest day's labor. They could tell you the mines were going to shut down because the trains moved faster, less encumbered by ore than they once were. They knew the beginning of peach season not by the signs outside supermarkets but by the influx of labor and the smells as the trains rolled past the orchards. And they still saw the stars at night, and could show you the pictures they drew in the sky.
But those are distant stories, separated by time and space and conflict. Now the dust obscures the sun in the day and the constellations at night, and the only folks who ride the rails are desperate, foolhardy, or both. They've traded peaches for arms and ore for ammunition. But they still sit the same way, leaning against the open doors of the carriage, one leg swung out to feel the wind, the other tucked underneath. They still wear raggedy clothing, and a bandanna around the nose to keep the dust out. And they stare as the train hurtles to the next station, the landscape a mere blur of motion.
Harris was a regular. Though the dust storms often rendered landmarks inscrutable, he'd gained a feeling for the lay of the track. Just past the midway point there would be a long bend and the train would bank in such a way one of the wheels in his usual carriage would *pop* against a bolt, producing an ear-splitting screech before groaning back into position. Like most of the other tubes, the relentless dust and accompanying years of neglect and poor maintenance had taken their toll until one day, the tube had experienced a Derailment.
Harris had been on the train that day as well. Normally he didn't have much to do between stations besides counting bullets. He'd fire a couple rounds above the crowd when they rolled in, toss a few bags of grain out from his carriage, then keep his safety off and lazily survey the masses as they tore at the supplies. At some point the conductor would bark his orders and the train would move once more, speeding to the next stop. But the Derailment was different. They had all heard rumors, of course, of people who had left the cities for the dust, never to return. Harris had scoffed; obviously they hadn't returned - there's no food or water in the dust, they had simply gone mad and wanted to die.
But in the two days until a military detachment was able to relieve them, Harris came to understand the truth. The first night was spent inside the the tube, doors shut and windows closed to keep the dust from spoiling everything within. But then came the shouts and hollers, the lights that seemed to move through the cracks. And then came the bullets. Fully half their company had been killed by the splintering plastics and metal shrapnel and concussive blasts before they could recover and regroup. Two carriages in the back were simply gone. The survivors had made their way up to Harris's car, faces pale, pupils wide, irises narrow. Two, no twenty, no two hundred strong, a band making their way through the train, taking what they could and killing anything that moved.
Harris was lucky. The raid ended with just three cars between him and the horde, and they had left as they arrived, their shouts disappearing into the dust. By the time they were escorted back and repair crews were dispatched under armed guard, the city had descended into chaos. Instead of sacks of grain the populace found dusty corpses. They'd thin themselves out, Harris reasoned. They always did. And then they'd be back, arms outstretched, the next time the train rolled into the station. | |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | “Let’s keep heading towards downtown.” She murmured to her screen as she carefully unplugged her charger from the electrical socket attached to one of the only still-standing homes she’d come across that day. She’d scavenged through the wreckage around it while her phone charged, coming away with some canned goods and a few supplies here and there. Sliding her phone into her pocket she hefted her huge hiking backpack up onto her shoulders and carefully situated its weight.
She moved off down the street towards the hulking blackened shapes of the downtown skyline. No smoke or exhaust trickled away from their tall roofs now, some even had dramatic looking holes and gaping spaces on their sides.
The phone in her hand buzzed and she glanced down at the screen. “F***ing Pidgey.” Her thumb worked to toss the pokeballs and catch the seemingly millionth bird-pokemon as she continued to walk, ignoring the burnt out cars and crushed buildings around her.
Finally the pidgey allowed itself to be caught and the map screen returned. The roads and paths of the neighbourhood around her stretched out in front of her avatar’s feet. A Poke-stop appeared just at the top of her screen, purple with fluttering flower petals and she stopped, almost toppling herself with her own abruptness, fighting to keep her pack from making her face-plant into the pock-marked cement.
“A lure?” she whispered to the screen. She looked up from the screen to the still empty landscape, the destruction and waste. “It can’t be.” She stood, stuck, unsure, staring down the near-empty block towards the burnt-out husk of a brick church. Looking back down to her screen again the pink flowers fluttered tantalizingly around the circular marker. Quickly she thumbed from the map to her list of pokemon, pulling up her Pikachu she looked at its tiny smiling face. “I don’t know what to do.” She whispered at the electric rodent. The Pikachu just smiled and preened. “You’re right.” She whispered. “What have I got to lose?”
She looked up again at the church, took a deep breath, and set out towards it. Her phone buzzed as various pokemon flocked to the lure, becoming obvious to her as she approached. However, she didn’t look at her screen, eyes scanning the shattered stained glass windows, the broken cement fountain, and the darkened smoke-stained façade of the church. She found herself humming the Pokemon theme song as her feet stepped up onto the cracked sidewalk in front of the church.
The wind curled around her as she stared hard at the building, willing it to explain, to tell her who had set the lure.
“FREEZE!” “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Black figures carrying black guns burst from seemingly every nook and cranny around the building. Dangerous clicks, heavy boots, wide eyes, faces hidden by dark scarves and suddenly she was surrounded. She held her hands high, felt herself starting to shake at all the weaponry trained upon her.
“Who are you?” the one, the man standing directly in front of her asked. She looked up into his blue eyes.
“I thought I was the last…” she whispered.
| The world was vast and it was mine. Every human was extinguished and me being the last survivor of a species of diabolism and beauty, of great intelligence and the urge to rule, granted me the right to do whatever I wanted. Woodland and steppe lay at my feet, the planeless sky never felt higher- but I have never felt less liberated.
And of all the things I could spend my time on I chose you, Pokemon Go. I admit, I wanted to get a bit of normal back, and- which is probably the fucking greatest thing about being the last person alive- there was no one to judge.
The Pokemon kept me company, in an odd sense, and walking did not feel aimless anymore as I was hatching eggs.
Spotting the lure module was...weirdly unexpected. But I did not really thought twice about it when I neared it. Probably some random bug, I mean, I had not brought Pokemon Go's functioning into question in the first place, had I?
I was already anticipating reaching the next level, because I only had 1000 EP left which roughly equals 10 Pokemon. Maybe less, if there's a new one.
Full of anticipation I reached the Pokestop and..it sounds cliché, but it was exactly like any paranormal movie, where they feel a presence entering the room.
I just felt..
Just felt an entity. A being.
I turned around.
I...that. No.
I instinctively wanted to throw a Pokeball, but I realised it was not augmented reality. But...how?
The Pokemon hovering beside me stared at me, and even though it did not move a single limb I felt controlled. Like my energy was...manipulated.
My phone dropped to the ground. I did not remember releasing it.
"Don't even try."
I suddenly felt how the Pokemon let go of me.
"Try what?" I probed, intending to catch him. I just had to. It was the first real challenge I've come across in days.
Fuck those pidgeys.
"Catching me, dumbass." Only now did I realise the Pokemon did not move his mouth, but implanted his words in my stream of consciousness. It did not sound like thoughts forming in my head but not totally like perceiving a voice either.
"Why not? You're a Pokemon, I'm a trainer. It is my obligation to do so." I tried my best to sound confident, but my trembling voice gave me away.
"Mine is to destroy. Want me to do you the favour?"
I gulped. "Uh, I guess if you..."
"Just shut up, unworthy human. For millennials, I have..."
"Don't you exist since the 90s of the twentieth century?"
"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. For millennials, I have perfected my plan to seek revenge on a misguided, corrupted species that has sadly already done enough irreversible damage to this planet and its inhabitants. My plan was to catch them all - and finally I have executed it. Pokemon Go's part of my plan was distracting the humans so that they did not realise the incoming danger."
"I actually remember you being a little more sympathetic with humans at the end of 'Mewtwo Strikes Back'."
"You lil' piece of shit, that's fiction. They might have based the Mewtwo character on me, but I did not get a single word in the dialogue. Just like artists, nobody pays them respect when they're around but the moment they disappear off the radar everyone's stealing their shit.
Anywho, what I have wanted to say before you interrupted me yet again was that your 'surviving' was not intended. It is a mistake I can not fathom."
"So, Mr. Mewtwo..."
"Just call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Since you do not want me to catch you, what do you have in mind?"
That was when Me- uhm, Dave produced a Pokeball from a belt I did not notice he was wearing and threw it at me. I gotta admit, it gets lonely inside this Pokeball from time to time, but man! You could not imagine what's in there! I really enjoy the writing desk Dave has installed for me. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I have no idea why I'm still sane. Or even why I'm still alive.
46 months ago I woke up and, to put it the short way, I was the last person on Earth. I remember waking up, noticing that it was strangely quiet and frantically calling all of my friends and family members for the first few days, forgetting to eat and sleep as I called every number in my contact list hoping for SOME sign of life.
I started to play Pokemon go to distract myself from how screwed I really was. I don't how the servers were still running. They were always down when everything was "normal" but now they work perfectly.
I've painted the entire city of New York red. I leave my pidgeys in the gyms and they just stay there forever. I'm raking in so much coins and stardust each day.
I am the last person on Earth.
Which is why I'm suprised to see a lured pokestop a few blocks away from where I live. I bolt out of my room, and run the whole three blocks over to the lure. Cars don't work anymore.
I get over there and I see a person, the first person I've seen in so long. All this time I've been so lonely and-
And-
I feel something in my back and my eyes snap shut
"*We're making progress boss, we're getting rid of the stragglers. 521 people left to go*" | The world was vast and it was mine. Every human was extinguished and me being the last survivor of a species of diabolism and beauty, of great intelligence and the urge to rule, granted me the right to do whatever I wanted. Woodland and steppe lay at my feet, the planeless sky never felt higher- but I have never felt less liberated.
And of all the things I could spend my time on I chose you, Pokemon Go. I admit, I wanted to get a bit of normal back, and- which is probably the fucking greatest thing about being the last person alive- there was no one to judge.
The Pokemon kept me company, in an odd sense, and walking did not feel aimless anymore as I was hatching eggs.
Spotting the lure module was...weirdly unexpected. But I did not really thought twice about it when I neared it. Probably some random bug, I mean, I had not brought Pokemon Go's functioning into question in the first place, had I?
I was already anticipating reaching the next level, because I only had 1000 EP left which roughly equals 10 Pokemon. Maybe less, if there's a new one.
Full of anticipation I reached the Pokestop and..it sounds cliché, but it was exactly like any paranormal movie, where they feel a presence entering the room.
I just felt..
Just felt an entity. A being.
I turned around.
I...that. No.
I instinctively wanted to throw a Pokeball, but I realised it was not augmented reality. But...how?
The Pokemon hovering beside me stared at me, and even though it did not move a single limb I felt controlled. Like my energy was...manipulated.
My phone dropped to the ground. I did not remember releasing it.
"Don't even try."
I suddenly felt how the Pokemon let go of me.
"Try what?" I probed, intending to catch him. I just had to. It was the first real challenge I've come across in days.
Fuck those pidgeys.
"Catching me, dumbass." Only now did I realise the Pokemon did not move his mouth, but implanted his words in my stream of consciousness. It did not sound like thoughts forming in my head but not totally like perceiving a voice either.
"Why not? You're a Pokemon, I'm a trainer. It is my obligation to do so." I tried my best to sound confident, but my trembling voice gave me away.
"Mine is to destroy. Want me to do you the favour?"
I gulped. "Uh, I guess if you..."
"Just shut up, unworthy human. For millennials, I have..."
"Don't you exist since the 90s of the twentieth century?"
"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. For millennials, I have perfected my plan to seek revenge on a misguided, corrupted species that has sadly already done enough irreversible damage to this planet and its inhabitants. My plan was to catch them all - and finally I have executed it. Pokemon Go's part of my plan was distracting the humans so that they did not realise the incoming danger."
"I actually remember you being a little more sympathetic with humans at the end of 'Mewtwo Strikes Back'."
"You lil' piece of shit, that's fiction. They might have based the Mewtwo character on me, but I did not get a single word in the dialogue. Just like artists, nobody pays them respect when they're around but the moment they disappear off the radar everyone's stealing their shit.
Anywho, what I have wanted to say before you interrupted me yet again was that your 'surviving' was not intended. It is a mistake I can not fathom."
"So, Mr. Mewtwo..."
"Just call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Since you do not want me to catch you, what do you have in mind?"
That was when Me- uhm, Dave produced a Pokeball from a belt I did not notice he was wearing and threw it at me. I gotta admit, it gets lonely inside this Pokeball from time to time, but man! You could not imagine what's in there! I really enjoy the writing desk Dave has installed for me. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I head over there and see another person.
"Dude!" I proclaim.
"Chyaaauh" They replied.
"What team?" I ask.
"Mystic."
I continue my journey as the ***sole*** Pokemon trainer on Earth. | The world was vast and it was mine. Every human was extinguished and me being the last survivor of a species of diabolism and beauty, of great intelligence and the urge to rule, granted me the right to do whatever I wanted. Woodland and steppe lay at my feet, the planeless sky never felt higher- but I have never felt less liberated.
And of all the things I could spend my time on I chose you, Pokemon Go. I admit, I wanted to get a bit of normal back, and- which is probably the fucking greatest thing about being the last person alive- there was no one to judge.
The Pokemon kept me company, in an odd sense, and walking did not feel aimless anymore as I was hatching eggs.
Spotting the lure module was...weirdly unexpected. But I did not really thought twice about it when I neared it. Probably some random bug, I mean, I had not brought Pokemon Go's functioning into question in the first place, had I?
I was already anticipating reaching the next level, because I only had 1000 EP left which roughly equals 10 Pokemon. Maybe less, if there's a new one.
Full of anticipation I reached the Pokestop and..it sounds cliché, but it was exactly like any paranormal movie, where they feel a presence entering the room.
I just felt..
Just felt an entity. A being.
I turned around.
I...that. No.
I instinctively wanted to throw a Pokeball, but I realised it was not augmented reality. But...how?
The Pokemon hovering beside me stared at me, and even though it did not move a single limb I felt controlled. Like my energy was...manipulated.
My phone dropped to the ground. I did not remember releasing it.
"Don't even try."
I suddenly felt how the Pokemon let go of me.
"Try what?" I probed, intending to catch him. I just had to. It was the first real challenge I've come across in days.
Fuck those pidgeys.
"Catching me, dumbass." Only now did I realise the Pokemon did not move his mouth, but implanted his words in my stream of consciousness. It did not sound like thoughts forming in my head but not totally like perceiving a voice either.
"Why not? You're a Pokemon, I'm a trainer. It is my obligation to do so." I tried my best to sound confident, but my trembling voice gave me away.
"Mine is to destroy. Want me to do you the favour?"
I gulped. "Uh, I guess if you..."
"Just shut up, unworthy human. For millennials, I have..."
"Don't you exist since the 90s of the twentieth century?"
"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. For millennials, I have perfected my plan to seek revenge on a misguided, corrupted species that has sadly already done enough irreversible damage to this planet and its inhabitants. My plan was to catch them all - and finally I have executed it. Pokemon Go's part of my plan was distracting the humans so that they did not realise the incoming danger."
"I actually remember you being a little more sympathetic with humans at the end of 'Mewtwo Strikes Back'."
"You lil' piece of shit, that's fiction. They might have based the Mewtwo character on me, but I did not get a single word in the dialogue. Just like artists, nobody pays them respect when they're around but the moment they disappear off the radar everyone's stealing their shit.
Anywho, what I have wanted to say before you interrupted me yet again was that your 'surviving' was not intended. It is a mistake I can not fathom."
"So, Mr. Mewtwo..."
"Just call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Since you do not want me to catch you, what do you have in mind?"
That was when Me- uhm, Dave produced a Pokeball from a belt I did not notice he was wearing and threw it at me. I gotta admit, it gets lonely inside this Pokeball from time to time, but man! You could not imagine what's in there! I really enjoy the writing desk Dave has installed for me. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I ran up to the pokestop as fast as I could. It was located at the Dori square in Kyoto. It had taken me a decade just to cross from California over to Japan and find this place. This mecca.
Over the years as I played PokeGO, I had slowly convinced myself that the only people alive must be the ones running the app as it was the only thing still working on the internet. And as I approached the pokestop, my heart began to beat faster and faster.
The pokestop was empty. The derelict white-but-now-faded Nintendo HQ sign leaned wispfully at an angle in the middle of the square. Not a soul stirred, but the lure, the lure was still active for 15 minutes. I had to work fast to find the person who did this.
The Nintendo HQ building itself was a mess. The only thing that showed signs of life were a few defunct terminals that playfully lit up every now and then. I browsed through a book at reception and saw that the PokemonGo team was located on the top floor. Stairs it is.
I crept up to the top of the stairs and found the door propped open by a bowl. Ah ha I thought, and I silently slid the door open and entered. The top floor showed signs of life, dark but cleaned and organized, must be someone from Japan of course I thought. Then faintly, I heard sounds of typing: tak-tak-tak.
I yelled out, "Hello? Don't be alarmed, I am a pokemon trainer!"
A non-native English voice answered back in a tired but calm manner: "Make yourself at home Misty"
Misty was a female character in Pokemon. But I wasn't a girl and my voice certainly wasn't high pitched either. I slowly approached the glow in the center of the room and peered over. Gasp.
"Well Misty, what did you expect? A person? Don't be so foolish, you're the last person on earth, the pokemon go servers confirmed it."
"Well I, but wait, I mean..., how are you even speaking?" I stammered as I stared at one exactly cute Corgi typing away at the console. "Who are you?"
"I'm Misty's Corgi of course. Did you forget Misty?" replied the corgi. "But years ago I was known as another. Satoru Iwata."
My jaw dropped. Satoru Iwata had died in 2015 as the president of Nintendo due to a tumor. How could this be possible? Was this some sort of immortality technique the Japanese were only aware of? Or...?
Misty's Corgi stopped typing and looked up at me as if it sensed my questions. It looked me straight in the eye and replied, "On the internet, nobody knows your a corgi." | The world was vast and it was mine. Every human was extinguished and me being the last survivor of a species of diabolism and beauty, of great intelligence and the urge to rule, granted me the right to do whatever I wanted. Woodland and steppe lay at my feet, the planeless sky never felt higher- but I have never felt less liberated.
And of all the things I could spend my time on I chose you, Pokemon Go. I admit, I wanted to get a bit of normal back, and- which is probably the fucking greatest thing about being the last person alive- there was no one to judge.
The Pokemon kept me company, in an odd sense, and walking did not feel aimless anymore as I was hatching eggs.
Spotting the lure module was...weirdly unexpected. But I did not really thought twice about it when I neared it. Probably some random bug, I mean, I had not brought Pokemon Go's functioning into question in the first place, had I?
I was already anticipating reaching the next level, because I only had 1000 EP left which roughly equals 10 Pokemon. Maybe less, if there's a new one.
Full of anticipation I reached the Pokestop and..it sounds cliché, but it was exactly like any paranormal movie, where they feel a presence entering the room.
I just felt..
Just felt an entity. A being.
I turned around.
I...that. No.
I instinctively wanted to throw a Pokeball, but I realised it was not augmented reality. But...how?
The Pokemon hovering beside me stared at me, and even though it did not move a single limb I felt controlled. Like my energy was...manipulated.
My phone dropped to the ground. I did not remember releasing it.
"Don't even try."
I suddenly felt how the Pokemon let go of me.
"Try what?" I probed, intending to catch him. I just had to. It was the first real challenge I've come across in days.
Fuck those pidgeys.
"Catching me, dumbass." Only now did I realise the Pokemon did not move his mouth, but implanted his words in my stream of consciousness. It did not sound like thoughts forming in my head but not totally like perceiving a voice either.
"Why not? You're a Pokemon, I'm a trainer. It is my obligation to do so." I tried my best to sound confident, but my trembling voice gave me away.
"Mine is to destroy. Want me to do you the favour?"
I gulped. "Uh, I guess if you..."
"Just shut up, unworthy human. For millennials, I have..."
"Don't you exist since the 90s of the twentieth century?"
"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. For millennials, I have perfected my plan to seek revenge on a misguided, corrupted species that has sadly already done enough irreversible damage to this planet and its inhabitants. My plan was to catch them all - and finally I have executed it. Pokemon Go's part of my plan was distracting the humans so that they did not realise the incoming danger."
"I actually remember you being a little more sympathetic with humans at the end of 'Mewtwo Strikes Back'."
"You lil' piece of shit, that's fiction. They might have based the Mewtwo character on me, but I did not get a single word in the dialogue. Just like artists, nobody pays them respect when they're around but the moment they disappear off the radar everyone's stealing their shit.
Anywho, what I have wanted to say before you interrupted me yet again was that your 'surviving' was not intended. It is a mistake I can not fathom."
"So, Mr. Mewtwo..."
"Just call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Since you do not want me to catch you, what do you have in mind?"
That was when Me- uhm, Dave produced a Pokeball from a belt I did not notice he was wearing and threw it at me. I gotta admit, it gets lonely inside this Pokeball from time to time, but man! You could not imagine what's in there! I really enjoy the writing desk Dave has installed for me. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | Humanity hadn't witnessed an epidemic this devastating since the bubonic plague.
It began slowly, then spread exponentionally as most diseases do. I remember the day my brother, an EMT who was constantly in contact with the troubled and dying, came home with a headache and a loud, persistent cough. Everyone thought it was just the start of another flu season that a shot would be enough to cover, my mother chastising him for not getting a vaccination quick enough.
That is, until we found him dead in his room, the glow of his 3ds illuminating his glassy, blank eyes.
After the results from my brothers autopsy came in, it was discovered that the disease had a long icubation period, meaning that people could become infected long before any symptoms were detected.
Shorty after the body count began to rise, airports and highways were shut down and curfews mandated, we were told our city was ground zero, and my family, along with my dog, were placed in quarantine, any news of the outside world brought to us by the slow wifi we could connect our phones to.
The days in quarantine were made somewhat more bareable as the hospital staff placed lures around the few pokestops we had access to. I would proudly show off my new Charizard and Scyther to the nurses, the only people left I had to talk to since the rest of my family had gotten ill and died one by one.
For some reason, I was the only one in my immediate and extended family who was immune to the disease. For a short while I thought somehow my dog, Dessa, was too, until a strain of the disease mutated and spread to animals as well, sending my faithful akita to meet my family.
When I had been cleared to leave quarantine the city had been reduced from a couple million to just over a hundred thousand and dropping everyday. I took solace in camping out in the graveyard, spinning the pokestop planted on my brothers grave, collecting items and occasionally placing a lure. I owned all the gyms at the hospital I had been quarantined at, and entrusted only the Arcanine named Dessa to defend the only gym in the cemetery.
Every week or so I ventured out of my camping spot to go into the city to get supplies, occasionally running into someone. Usually they would avoid eye contact and act as terrified as I felt, some times they would turn out to be dangerous and rob me, and the one time someone had tried to rape me I plunged my fathers hunting knife into their crotch and ran as fast as my emaciated legs could carry me.
On the eve on my eigteenth birthday I realzied it had been three months since I had last seen anyone, had a gym taken from me, or spotted a lure. I decided that I was the last person alive in my city and that tomorrow I would hang myself on the cherry tree by the cemetery entrance, as humanity was doomed anyway.
That was, until, my phone vibrated. If I hadnt been so far gone I would have screamed, but instead I disconnected the phone from the battery pack and read the single notification from pokemon go that read, "Attention Trainers!"
Confused, I slid to unlock and saw my team leader, Candela, delivering an 'urgent message'.
"Trainer! We need your help! An evil organization by the name of TEAM ROCKET has captured the legendary pokemon MOLTRES, ZAPDOS, AND ARTICUNO! We need you to report to Professor Willow's lab in Sanfransico, California so that we may all band together to stop their malicious scheme! Do you accept?"
San Fransico was where Nianitc headquarters was located. Accepting meant leaving my home, my family, and traversing the desert just so I could continue a game that I had basically already completed. Obvioulsy whoever was manning the servers at this point was trying to gather all the living people who had access to this game in one place, to maybe try and start a new society of people that were immune to the disease.
I looked to my left towards the headstone of my mother, then to my right towards the headstone of my father. My sister and brother were on each side of them, respectively. I laid down between my parents, hit decline, and began tying the noose for tomorrow.
"I'll see you all soon."
| The world was vast and it was mine. Every human was extinguished and me being the last survivor of a species of diabolism and beauty, of great intelligence and the urge to rule, granted me the right to do whatever I wanted. Woodland and steppe lay at my feet, the planeless sky never felt higher- but I have never felt less liberated.
And of all the things I could spend my time on I chose you, Pokemon Go. I admit, I wanted to get a bit of normal back, and- which is probably the fucking greatest thing about being the last person alive- there was no one to judge.
The Pokemon kept me company, in an odd sense, and walking did not feel aimless anymore as I was hatching eggs.
Spotting the lure module was...weirdly unexpected. But I did not really thought twice about it when I neared it. Probably some random bug, I mean, I had not brought Pokemon Go's functioning into question in the first place, had I?
I was already anticipating reaching the next level, because I only had 1000 EP left which roughly equals 10 Pokemon. Maybe less, if there's a new one.
Full of anticipation I reached the Pokestop and..it sounds cliché, but it was exactly like any paranormal movie, where they feel a presence entering the room.
I just felt..
Just felt an entity. A being.
I turned around.
I...that. No.
I instinctively wanted to throw a Pokeball, but I realised it was not augmented reality. But...how?
The Pokemon hovering beside me stared at me, and even though it did not move a single limb I felt controlled. Like my energy was...manipulated.
My phone dropped to the ground. I did not remember releasing it.
"Don't even try."
I suddenly felt how the Pokemon let go of me.
"Try what?" I probed, intending to catch him. I just had to. It was the first real challenge I've come across in days.
Fuck those pidgeys.
"Catching me, dumbass." Only now did I realise the Pokemon did not move his mouth, but implanted his words in my stream of consciousness. It did not sound like thoughts forming in my head but not totally like perceiving a voice either.
"Why not? You're a Pokemon, I'm a trainer. It is my obligation to do so." I tried my best to sound confident, but my trembling voice gave me away.
"Mine is to destroy. Want me to do you the favour?"
I gulped. "Uh, I guess if you..."
"Just shut up, unworthy human. For millennials, I have..."
"Don't you exist since the 90s of the twentieth century?"
"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. For millennials, I have perfected my plan to seek revenge on a misguided, corrupted species that has sadly already done enough irreversible damage to this planet and its inhabitants. My plan was to catch them all - and finally I have executed it. Pokemon Go's part of my plan was distracting the humans so that they did not realise the incoming danger."
"I actually remember you being a little more sympathetic with humans at the end of 'Mewtwo Strikes Back'."
"You lil' piece of shit, that's fiction. They might have based the Mewtwo character on me, but I did not get a single word in the dialogue. Just like artists, nobody pays them respect when they're around but the moment they disappear off the radar everyone's stealing their shit.
Anywho, what I have wanted to say before you interrupted me yet again was that your 'surviving' was not intended. It is a mistake I can not fathom."
"So, Mr. Mewtwo..."
"Just call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Since you do not want me to catch you, what do you have in mind?"
That was when Me- uhm, Dave produced a Pokeball from a belt I did not notice he was wearing and threw it at me. I gotta admit, it gets lonely inside this Pokeball from time to time, but man! You could not imagine what's in there! I really enjoy the writing desk Dave has installed for me. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | "Is that the last of them?" asked God.
"That's the very last one of them." replied the archangel.
God stroked his beard, his brow knotted in concentration. "You know," he finally said, "even with thousands of years to prepare, I never imagined the end of the world would be so much work!"
The archangel let out a relieved chuckle and grinned. "You can say that again, sir. The passports, the documentation, the housing permits, the exit interviews. This whole transition has kept us busy around the clock. It's hard to believe it was three years ago today that the trumpet sounded!"
God seemed to visibly relax for the first time in millennia. "And is everyone liking it so far? Any complaints?
"Oh, no major issues thus far. Some minor complaints about missing out on season two of Stranger Things and a the insistence that 'this' was going to be the year the Cubs won the World Series, but again, nothing too serious." assured the archangel.
"Well," said God as he cracked his knuckles, "if there is nothing else that needs my attention, I do believe this wraps up another fairly successful universe. Now I think I hear a day of rest calling my name."
The door to the heavenly control room swung open.
A mid-level cherub stood trembling in the doorway. His robe visibly soaked with sweat.
The archangel glared at the interruption. "Can't you see this is a high-level meeting? Who the hell are you?"
The cherub tugged nervously his halo. "Um, hi. Uh. My name is Rodney and I'm from Accounting."
God rolled his eyes.
"Yes, uh," continued Rodney from Accounting, "we were just making one last review of the books before we wrapped this up when we discovered that there was an entry error."
"An 'entry error'?" asked the archangel incredulously. "What kind of 'entry error' could you possibly find three years after the apocalypse?"
Rodney from Accounting gulped. "We missed one, sir."
"Me-damnit" muttered God under his breath.
"How is that even possible?" demanded the archangel. "What has this human even been doing for the past three years?"
"Uh," stammered Rodney from Accounting, "it appears this human has been playing Pokemon Go since the trumpet sounded."
The expression of disbelief that came over the archangel's face would have defied even the greatest painters of the Renaissance.
"Now, now," said God, recovering quickly from the shock, "this 'entry error' shouldn't be too difficult to correct. Just toss out a lure at the nearest Pokestop and they'll be there in no time."
The archangel turned to God, "You mean, after three years of isolated wandering in an apocalyptic wasteland, this human is just going to walk right up to an unexplainable lure?"
"Absolutely" explained God, "because there is only one kind of human who could miss out on the end of the world: Team Instinct." | The world was vast and it was mine. Every human was extinguished and me being the last survivor of a species of diabolism and beauty, of great intelligence and the urge to rule, granted me the right to do whatever I wanted. Woodland and steppe lay at my feet, the planeless sky never felt higher- but I have never felt less liberated.
And of all the things I could spend my time on I chose you, Pokemon Go. I admit, I wanted to get a bit of normal back, and- which is probably the fucking greatest thing about being the last person alive- there was no one to judge.
The Pokemon kept me company, in an odd sense, and walking did not feel aimless anymore as I was hatching eggs.
Spotting the lure module was...weirdly unexpected. But I did not really thought twice about it when I neared it. Probably some random bug, I mean, I had not brought Pokemon Go's functioning into question in the first place, had I?
I was already anticipating reaching the next level, because I only had 1000 EP left which roughly equals 10 Pokemon. Maybe less, if there's a new one.
Full of anticipation I reached the Pokestop and..it sounds cliché, but it was exactly like any paranormal movie, where they feel a presence entering the room.
I just felt..
Just felt an entity. A being.
I turned around.
I...that. No.
I instinctively wanted to throw a Pokeball, but I realised it was not augmented reality. But...how?
The Pokemon hovering beside me stared at me, and even though it did not move a single limb I felt controlled. Like my energy was...manipulated.
My phone dropped to the ground. I did not remember releasing it.
"Don't even try."
I suddenly felt how the Pokemon let go of me.
"Try what?" I probed, intending to catch him. I just had to. It was the first real challenge I've come across in days.
Fuck those pidgeys.
"Catching me, dumbass." Only now did I realise the Pokemon did not move his mouth, but implanted his words in my stream of consciousness. It did not sound like thoughts forming in my head but not totally like perceiving a voice either.
"Why not? You're a Pokemon, I'm a trainer. It is my obligation to do so." I tried my best to sound confident, but my trembling voice gave me away.
"Mine is to destroy. Want me to do you the favour?"
I gulped. "Uh, I guess if you..."
"Just shut up, unworthy human. For millennials, I have..."
"Don't you exist since the 90s of the twentieth century?"
"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. For millennials, I have perfected my plan to seek revenge on a misguided, corrupted species that has sadly already done enough irreversible damage to this planet and its inhabitants. My plan was to catch them all - and finally I have executed it. Pokemon Go's part of my plan was distracting the humans so that they did not realise the incoming danger."
"I actually remember you being a little more sympathetic with humans at the end of 'Mewtwo Strikes Back'."
"You lil' piece of shit, that's fiction. They might have based the Mewtwo character on me, but I did not get a single word in the dialogue. Just like artists, nobody pays them respect when they're around but the moment they disappear off the radar everyone's stealing their shit.
Anywho, what I have wanted to say before you interrupted me yet again was that your 'surviving' was not intended. It is a mistake I can not fathom."
"So, Mr. Mewtwo..."
"Just call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Since you do not want me to catch you, what do you have in mind?"
That was when Me- uhm, Dave produced a Pokeball from a belt I did not notice he was wearing and threw it at me. I gotta admit, it gets lonely inside this Pokeball from time to time, but man! You could not imagine what's in there! I really enjoy the writing desk Dave has installed for me. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | It's pretty amazing how quickly one can adjust to being alone.
Living in the over-crowded post-modern world, one of the most common fantasies is to be the sole survivor in the coming post-apocalyptic world. Or at least one of two survivors - with the other being an incredibly attractive member of the desired gender. But it was just me. For the thousandth morning in a row, it was just me.
And my Pokemon.
I never considered myself to be exceptionally resilient or mentally tough. My parents had divorced when I was in middle school and I didn't cry. I'd had three serious relationships and managed to survive each breakup. I'd even held my childhood dog while it was put to sleep. But I doubt I ever would have imagined myself having the mental fortitude necessary to continue living as the last remaining human on earth. However, I also never imagined I would someday be able to run around outside catching the Pokemon of my childhood.
Pokemon Go! kept my sanity intact. It kept my memories unfaded. It gave me a sense of purpose. It even gave me occasional moments of joy and celebration. Amidst the remains of a first world society, I had absolutely no problem foraging for supplies. Rarely did I ever need to spend more than two or three hours in a day caring my survival. That left a lot of time for catching Pokemon.
It was strange though. Because even after the power grid of my city failed along with what I assumed to be every other cities' infrastructure, the internet and communication satellites still carried on functioning. I could even access my bank account. With no one out there to process or ship my orders from Ebay or Amazon, I quickly converted my entire life savings into incubators, lucky eggs, and incense. I could still earn coins from gyms, but something kept me from dropping off my precious digital monsters at the gray gyms I'd conquered and emptied. Even though I had upgraded to hold the maximum number of Pokemon, I knew in the back of my mind that every monster I dropped off at a gym would be eternally "lost" to me. Not only would they be locked in a gym with no opponents, but they would still take up slots and prevent me from adding new ones.
And so I continued traveling, conquering gyms as I went. A wake of gray gyms emanating from my path. I grew more and more attached to my beloved creatures. I began to name them after people I had known and loved. I gave my mother's name to a maxed-out Lapras. I named my Snorlax after my older brother. My Archanine became my resurrected childhood pet. Soon I had named every one of my Pokemon after all of the people I could remember. My piano teacher. My old orthodontist. The first person I'd ever had a crush on. It was a way of remembering. Of keeping them all alive. Of not feeling so alone.
Until the day I reached LVL 100. Seeing my XP cross that seemingly impossible threshold changed something in me. I realized that playing this game was becoming as pointless as anything that still remained on earth. There was only one thing left to do. Go home. Go back to my own version of Pallet Town and turn off my own game.
I began revisiting all of the empty gyms I had defeated and dropping my companions off at what would be their final resting places. I started with those Pokemon named after acquaintances and continued walking. Mile after mile, gym after gym. I said goodbye to classmates, teammates, and coworkers. I bid my crushes farewell. My friends and mentors each received their own private parting ceremony. I could still see them on my list of Pokemon, but knew that I could never bring them back. Finally, as I reached my home town, only the Lapras with my mother's name remained.
I walked down to the park near our house. The same park she had taken me to on sunny days before she lost the use of her legs. There was a gym there. I sat on the ground and stared at the Lapras for hours. I remembered how, when the pain was bad, she would float for hours in the pool. She said the weightlessness made her feel like she did before the sickness. Before I knew it the sun was going down. I sucked in a breath the same way one inhales as they go over the first big hill on a roller coaster. The kind of helpless feeling that follows making an irreversible choice. The gym lit up. A beautiful Lapras floated weightlessly above it.
My breathing came fast and shallow. My gut spasmed. I buried my hollow head in my hands, my phone tumbling into the grass. The convulsions hit and hit hard. This was it. This was the Game Over. No credits. No end scene. No thanks for playing. Just an empty black screen. I groped for my phone to see my mother one last time before ending my own game. Through my blurred vision I looked at the gym and where my mother's Lapras should have been, but it was gone! The gym was gray! I pulled up my Pokemon list and saw that not only was my Lapras not at its gym, it wasn't on my list at all! All of my Pokemon at disappeared!
I returned to the main screen and began looking around in all directions. The game had to have finally glitched out. The Niantic servers must be powering down. It was all coming to an end. Yet as I looked around, I saw something I hadn't seen in years. The nearest Pokestop was now glowing a faint sort of pink. A lure! Someone had placed a lure!
I sprinted blindly towards the lure, nothing making sense. I reached the stop and collapsed. It was empty. My heart just couldn't take anymore. My HP was nearing 0. I was on the verge of fainting. Darkness was creeping along the edges of my vision when I heard a sound like a thousand footsteps approaching from behind me. I weakly lifted my head enough to see the faint silhouettes of hundreds of people - each of them oddly familiar. Then I heard my mother's voice:
"Don't worry my child. We're all here. You caught us all. You saved us." | The world was vast and it was mine. Every human was extinguished and me being the last survivor of a species of diabolism and beauty, of great intelligence and the urge to rule, granted me the right to do whatever I wanted. Woodland and steppe lay at my feet, the planeless sky never felt higher- but I have never felt less liberated.
And of all the things I could spend my time on I chose you, Pokemon Go. I admit, I wanted to get a bit of normal back, and- which is probably the fucking greatest thing about being the last person alive- there was no one to judge.
The Pokemon kept me company, in an odd sense, and walking did not feel aimless anymore as I was hatching eggs.
Spotting the lure module was...weirdly unexpected. But I did not really thought twice about it when I neared it. Probably some random bug, I mean, I had not brought Pokemon Go's functioning into question in the first place, had I?
I was already anticipating reaching the next level, because I only had 1000 EP left which roughly equals 10 Pokemon. Maybe less, if there's a new one.
Full of anticipation I reached the Pokestop and..it sounds cliché, but it was exactly like any paranormal movie, where they feel a presence entering the room.
I just felt..
Just felt an entity. A being.
I turned around.
I...that. No.
I instinctively wanted to throw a Pokeball, but I realised it was not augmented reality. But...how?
The Pokemon hovering beside me stared at me, and even though it did not move a single limb I felt controlled. Like my energy was...manipulated.
My phone dropped to the ground. I did not remember releasing it.
"Don't even try."
I suddenly felt how the Pokemon let go of me.
"Try what?" I probed, intending to catch him. I just had to. It was the first real challenge I've come across in days.
Fuck those pidgeys.
"Catching me, dumbass." Only now did I realise the Pokemon did not move his mouth, but implanted his words in my stream of consciousness. It did not sound like thoughts forming in my head but not totally like perceiving a voice either.
"Why not? You're a Pokemon, I'm a trainer. It is my obligation to do so." I tried my best to sound confident, but my trembling voice gave me away.
"Mine is to destroy. Want me to do you the favour?"
I gulped. "Uh, I guess if you..."
"Just shut up, unworthy human. For millennials, I have..."
"Don't you exist since the 90s of the twentieth century?"
"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH. For millennials, I have perfected my plan to seek revenge on a misguided, corrupted species that has sadly already done enough irreversible damage to this planet and its inhabitants. My plan was to catch them all - and finally I have executed it. Pokemon Go's part of my plan was distracting the humans so that they did not realise the incoming danger."
"I actually remember you being a little more sympathetic with humans at the end of 'Mewtwo Strikes Back'."
"You lil' piece of shit, that's fiction. They might have based the Mewtwo character on me, but I did not get a single word in the dialogue. Just like artists, nobody pays them respect when they're around but the moment they disappear off the radar everyone's stealing their shit.
Anywho, what I have wanted to say before you interrupted me yet again was that your 'surviving' was not intended. It is a mistake I can not fathom."
"So, Mr. Mewtwo..."
"Just call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Since you do not want me to catch you, what do you have in mind?"
That was when Me- uhm, Dave produced a Pokeball from a belt I did not notice he was wearing and threw it at me. I gotta admit, it gets lonely inside this Pokeball from time to time, but man! You could not imagine what's in there! I really enjoy the writing desk Dave has installed for me. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I head over there and see another person.
"Dude!" I proclaim.
"Chyaaauh" They replied.
"What team?" I ask.
"Mystic."
I continue my journey as the ***sole*** Pokemon trainer on Earth. | “Let’s keep heading towards downtown.” She murmured to her screen as she carefully unplugged her charger from the electrical socket attached to one of the only still-standing homes she’d come across that day. She’d scavenged through the wreckage around it while her phone charged, coming away with some canned goods and a few supplies here and there. Sliding her phone into her pocket she hefted her huge hiking backpack up onto her shoulders and carefully situated its weight.
She moved off down the street towards the hulking blackened shapes of the downtown skyline. No smoke or exhaust trickled away from their tall roofs now, some even had dramatic looking holes and gaping spaces on their sides.
The phone in her hand buzzed and she glanced down at the screen. “F***ing Pidgey.” Her thumb worked to toss the pokeballs and catch the seemingly millionth bird-pokemon as she continued to walk, ignoring the burnt out cars and crushed buildings around her.
Finally the pidgey allowed itself to be caught and the map screen returned. The roads and paths of the neighbourhood around her stretched out in front of her avatar’s feet. A Poke-stop appeared just at the top of her screen, purple with fluttering flower petals and she stopped, almost toppling herself with her own abruptness, fighting to keep her pack from making her face-plant into the pock-marked cement.
“A lure?” she whispered to the screen. She looked up from the screen to the still empty landscape, the destruction and waste. “It can’t be.” She stood, stuck, unsure, staring down the near-empty block towards the burnt-out husk of a brick church. Looking back down to her screen again the pink flowers fluttered tantalizingly around the circular marker. Quickly she thumbed from the map to her list of pokemon, pulling up her Pikachu she looked at its tiny smiling face. “I don’t know what to do.” She whispered at the electric rodent. The Pikachu just smiled and preened. “You’re right.” She whispered. “What have I got to lose?”
She looked up again at the church, took a deep breath, and set out towards it. Her phone buzzed as various pokemon flocked to the lure, becoming obvious to her as she approached. However, she didn’t look at her screen, eyes scanning the shattered stained glass windows, the broken cement fountain, and the darkened smoke-stained façade of the church. She found herself humming the Pokemon theme song as her feet stepped up onto the cracked sidewalk in front of the church.
The wind curled around her as she stared hard at the building, willing it to explain, to tell her who had set the lure.
“FREEZE!” “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Black figures carrying black guns burst from seemingly every nook and cranny around the building. Dangerous clicks, heavy boots, wide eyes, faces hidden by dark scarves and suddenly she was surrounded. She held her hands high, felt herself starting to shake at all the weaponry trained upon her.
“Who are you?” the one, the man standing directly in front of her asked. She looked up into his blue eyes.
“I thought I was the last…” she whispered.
|
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | Humanity hadn't witnessed an epidemic this devastating since the bubonic plague.
It began slowly, then spread exponentionally as most diseases do. I remember the day my brother, an EMT who was constantly in contact with the troubled and dying, came home with a headache and a loud, persistent cough. Everyone thought it was just the start of another flu season that a shot would be enough to cover, my mother chastising him for not getting a vaccination quick enough.
That is, until we found him dead in his room, the glow of his 3ds illuminating his glassy, blank eyes.
After the results from my brothers autopsy came in, it was discovered that the disease had a long icubation period, meaning that people could become infected long before any symptoms were detected.
Shorty after the body count began to rise, airports and highways were shut down and curfews mandated, we were told our city was ground zero, and my family, along with my dog, were placed in quarantine, any news of the outside world brought to us by the slow wifi we could connect our phones to.
The days in quarantine were made somewhat more bareable as the hospital staff placed lures around the few pokestops we had access to. I would proudly show off my new Charizard and Scyther to the nurses, the only people left I had to talk to since the rest of my family had gotten ill and died one by one.
For some reason, I was the only one in my immediate and extended family who was immune to the disease. For a short while I thought somehow my dog, Dessa, was too, until a strain of the disease mutated and spread to animals as well, sending my faithful akita to meet my family.
When I had been cleared to leave quarantine the city had been reduced from a couple million to just over a hundred thousand and dropping everyday. I took solace in camping out in the graveyard, spinning the pokestop planted on my brothers grave, collecting items and occasionally placing a lure. I owned all the gyms at the hospital I had been quarantined at, and entrusted only the Arcanine named Dessa to defend the only gym in the cemetery.
Every week or so I ventured out of my camping spot to go into the city to get supplies, occasionally running into someone. Usually they would avoid eye contact and act as terrified as I felt, some times they would turn out to be dangerous and rob me, and the one time someone had tried to rape me I plunged my fathers hunting knife into their crotch and ran as fast as my emaciated legs could carry me.
On the eve on my eigteenth birthday I realzied it had been three months since I had last seen anyone, had a gym taken from me, or spotted a lure. I decided that I was the last person alive in my city and that tomorrow I would hang myself on the cherry tree by the cemetery entrance, as humanity was doomed anyway.
That was, until, my phone vibrated. If I hadnt been so far gone I would have screamed, but instead I disconnected the phone from the battery pack and read the single notification from pokemon go that read, "Attention Trainers!"
Confused, I slid to unlock and saw my team leader, Candela, delivering an 'urgent message'.
"Trainer! We need your help! An evil organization by the name of TEAM ROCKET has captured the legendary pokemon MOLTRES, ZAPDOS, AND ARTICUNO! We need you to report to Professor Willow's lab in Sanfransico, California so that we may all band together to stop their malicious scheme! Do you accept?"
San Fransico was where Nianitc headquarters was located. Accepting meant leaving my home, my family, and traversing the desert just so I could continue a game that I had basically already completed. Obvioulsy whoever was manning the servers at this point was trying to gather all the living people who had access to this game in one place, to maybe try and start a new society of people that were immune to the disease.
I looked to my left towards the headstone of my mother, then to my right towards the headstone of my father. My sister and brother were on each side of them, respectively. I laid down between my parents, hit decline, and began tying the noose for tomorrow.
"I'll see you all soon."
| “Let’s keep heading towards downtown.” She murmured to her screen as she carefully unplugged her charger from the electrical socket attached to one of the only still-standing homes she’d come across that day. She’d scavenged through the wreckage around it while her phone charged, coming away with some canned goods and a few supplies here and there. Sliding her phone into her pocket she hefted her huge hiking backpack up onto her shoulders and carefully situated its weight.
She moved off down the street towards the hulking blackened shapes of the downtown skyline. No smoke or exhaust trickled away from their tall roofs now, some even had dramatic looking holes and gaping spaces on their sides.
The phone in her hand buzzed and she glanced down at the screen. “F***ing Pidgey.” Her thumb worked to toss the pokeballs and catch the seemingly millionth bird-pokemon as she continued to walk, ignoring the burnt out cars and crushed buildings around her.
Finally the pidgey allowed itself to be caught and the map screen returned. The roads and paths of the neighbourhood around her stretched out in front of her avatar’s feet. A Poke-stop appeared just at the top of her screen, purple with fluttering flower petals and she stopped, almost toppling herself with her own abruptness, fighting to keep her pack from making her face-plant into the pock-marked cement.
“A lure?” she whispered to the screen. She looked up from the screen to the still empty landscape, the destruction and waste. “It can’t be.” She stood, stuck, unsure, staring down the near-empty block towards the burnt-out husk of a brick church. Looking back down to her screen again the pink flowers fluttered tantalizingly around the circular marker. Quickly she thumbed from the map to her list of pokemon, pulling up her Pikachu she looked at its tiny smiling face. “I don’t know what to do.” She whispered at the electric rodent. The Pikachu just smiled and preened. “You’re right.” She whispered. “What have I got to lose?”
She looked up again at the church, took a deep breath, and set out towards it. Her phone buzzed as various pokemon flocked to the lure, becoming obvious to her as she approached. However, she didn’t look at her screen, eyes scanning the shattered stained glass windows, the broken cement fountain, and the darkened smoke-stained façade of the church. She found herself humming the Pokemon theme song as her feet stepped up onto the cracked sidewalk in front of the church.
The wind curled around her as she stared hard at the building, willing it to explain, to tell her who had set the lure.
“FREEZE!” “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Black figures carrying black guns burst from seemingly every nook and cranny around the building. Dangerous clicks, heavy boots, wide eyes, faces hidden by dark scarves and suddenly she was surrounded. She held her hands high, felt herself starting to shake at all the weaponry trained upon her.
“Who are you?” the one, the man standing directly in front of her asked. She looked up into his blue eyes.
“I thought I was the last…” she whispered.
|
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | "Is that the last of them?" asked God.
"That's the very last one of them." replied the archangel.
God stroked his beard, his brow knotted in concentration. "You know," he finally said, "even with thousands of years to prepare, I never imagined the end of the world would be so much work!"
The archangel let out a relieved chuckle and grinned. "You can say that again, sir. The passports, the documentation, the housing permits, the exit interviews. This whole transition has kept us busy around the clock. It's hard to believe it was three years ago today that the trumpet sounded!"
God seemed to visibly relax for the first time in millennia. "And is everyone liking it so far? Any complaints?
"Oh, no major issues thus far. Some minor complaints about missing out on season two of Stranger Things and a the insistence that 'this' was going to be the year the Cubs won the World Series, but again, nothing too serious." assured the archangel.
"Well," said God as he cracked his knuckles, "if there is nothing else that needs my attention, I do believe this wraps up another fairly successful universe. Now I think I hear a day of rest calling my name."
The door to the heavenly control room swung open.
A mid-level cherub stood trembling in the doorway. His robe visibly soaked with sweat.
The archangel glared at the interruption. "Can't you see this is a high-level meeting? Who the hell are you?"
The cherub tugged nervously his halo. "Um, hi. Uh. My name is Rodney and I'm from Accounting."
God rolled his eyes.
"Yes, uh," continued Rodney from Accounting, "we were just making one last review of the books before we wrapped this up when we discovered that there was an entry error."
"An 'entry error'?" asked the archangel incredulously. "What kind of 'entry error' could you possibly find three years after the apocalypse?"
Rodney from Accounting gulped. "We missed one, sir."
"Me-damnit" muttered God under his breath.
"How is that even possible?" demanded the archangel. "What has this human even been doing for the past three years?"
"Uh," stammered Rodney from Accounting, "it appears this human has been playing Pokemon Go since the trumpet sounded."
The expression of disbelief that came over the archangel's face would have defied even the greatest painters of the Renaissance.
"Now, now," said God, recovering quickly from the shock, "this 'entry error' shouldn't be too difficult to correct. Just toss out a lure at the nearest Pokestop and they'll be there in no time."
The archangel turned to God, "You mean, after three years of isolated wandering in an apocalyptic wasteland, this human is just going to walk right up to an unexplainable lure?"
"Absolutely" explained God, "because there is only one kind of human who could miss out on the end of the world: Team Instinct." | “Let’s keep heading towards downtown.” She murmured to her screen as she carefully unplugged her charger from the electrical socket attached to one of the only still-standing homes she’d come across that day. She’d scavenged through the wreckage around it while her phone charged, coming away with some canned goods and a few supplies here and there. Sliding her phone into her pocket she hefted her huge hiking backpack up onto her shoulders and carefully situated its weight.
She moved off down the street towards the hulking blackened shapes of the downtown skyline. No smoke or exhaust trickled away from their tall roofs now, some even had dramatic looking holes and gaping spaces on their sides.
The phone in her hand buzzed and she glanced down at the screen. “F***ing Pidgey.” Her thumb worked to toss the pokeballs and catch the seemingly millionth bird-pokemon as she continued to walk, ignoring the burnt out cars and crushed buildings around her.
Finally the pidgey allowed itself to be caught and the map screen returned. The roads and paths of the neighbourhood around her stretched out in front of her avatar’s feet. A Poke-stop appeared just at the top of her screen, purple with fluttering flower petals and she stopped, almost toppling herself with her own abruptness, fighting to keep her pack from making her face-plant into the pock-marked cement.
“A lure?” she whispered to the screen. She looked up from the screen to the still empty landscape, the destruction and waste. “It can’t be.” She stood, stuck, unsure, staring down the near-empty block towards the burnt-out husk of a brick church. Looking back down to her screen again the pink flowers fluttered tantalizingly around the circular marker. Quickly she thumbed from the map to her list of pokemon, pulling up her Pikachu she looked at its tiny smiling face. “I don’t know what to do.” She whispered at the electric rodent. The Pikachu just smiled and preened. “You’re right.” She whispered. “What have I got to lose?”
She looked up again at the church, took a deep breath, and set out towards it. Her phone buzzed as various pokemon flocked to the lure, becoming obvious to her as she approached. However, she didn’t look at her screen, eyes scanning the shattered stained glass windows, the broken cement fountain, and the darkened smoke-stained façade of the church. She found herself humming the Pokemon theme song as her feet stepped up onto the cracked sidewalk in front of the church.
The wind curled around her as she stared hard at the building, willing it to explain, to tell her who had set the lure.
“FREEZE!” “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Black figures carrying black guns burst from seemingly every nook and cranny around the building. Dangerous clicks, heavy boots, wide eyes, faces hidden by dark scarves and suddenly she was surrounded. She held her hands high, felt herself starting to shake at all the weaponry trained upon her.
“Who are you?” the one, the man standing directly in front of her asked. She looked up into his blue eyes.
“I thought I was the last…” she whispered.
|
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I head over there and see another person.
"Dude!" I proclaim.
"Chyaaauh" They replied.
"What team?" I ask.
"Mystic."
I continue my journey as the ***sole*** Pokemon trainer on Earth. | I have no idea why I'm still sane. Or even why I'm still alive.
46 months ago I woke up and, to put it the short way, I was the last person on Earth. I remember waking up, noticing that it was strangely quiet and frantically calling all of my friends and family members for the first few days, forgetting to eat and sleep as I called every number in my contact list hoping for SOME sign of life.
I started to play Pokemon go to distract myself from how screwed I really was. I don't how the servers were still running. They were always down when everything was "normal" but now they work perfectly.
I've painted the entire city of New York red. I leave my pidgeys in the gyms and they just stay there forever. I'm raking in so much coins and stardust each day.
I am the last person on Earth.
Which is why I'm suprised to see a lured pokestop a few blocks away from where I live. I bolt out of my room, and run the whole three blocks over to the lure. Cars don't work anymore.
I get over there and I see a person, the first person I've seen in so long. All this time I've been so lonely and-
And-
I feel something in my back and my eyes snap shut
"*We're making progress boss, we're getting rid of the stragglers. 521 people left to go*" |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I head over there and see another person.
"Dude!" I proclaim.
"Chyaaauh" They replied.
"What team?" I ask.
"Mystic."
I continue my journey as the ***sole*** Pokemon trainer on Earth. | I looked up from my phone. His cold eyes were watching me from a distant street corner. Smoke spilled from between his lips as his cigarette fell to the ground.
"So... You want to catch them all?!" He screamed, his shrill voice bouncing off the walls. I stood dumbfounded in the centre of the road.
"Good, good..." He whispered to himself as he moved out from the shadows. "Gotta- Gotta catch them... Gotta catch them all!" He incessantly mumbled to himself whilst wringing his hands. His eyes bore down on me.
He stopped dead in the street, twenty feet from me. He stopped murmuring. Quick as a flash he jumped up and ran towards me, turning his baseball cap backwards, he screamed, "metapod! I choose you-"
His warcry fell flat as two golden bullets struck his chest. His body dropped to the floor. His cap, a short distance away.
"Pfft! Tourists..." I rolled my eyes and continued my epic journey home. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I ran up to the pokestop as fast as I could. It was located at the Dori square in Kyoto. It had taken me a decade just to cross from California over to Japan and find this place. This mecca.
Over the years as I played PokeGO, I had slowly convinced myself that the only people alive must be the ones running the app as it was the only thing still working on the internet. And as I approached the pokestop, my heart began to beat faster and faster.
The pokestop was empty. The derelict white-but-now-faded Nintendo HQ sign leaned wispfully at an angle in the middle of the square. Not a soul stirred, but the lure, the lure was still active for 15 minutes. I had to work fast to find the person who did this.
The Nintendo HQ building itself was a mess. The only thing that showed signs of life were a few defunct terminals that playfully lit up every now and then. I browsed through a book at reception and saw that the PokemonGo team was located on the top floor. Stairs it is.
I crept up to the top of the stairs and found the door propped open by a bowl. Ah ha I thought, and I silently slid the door open and entered. The top floor showed signs of life, dark but cleaned and organized, must be someone from Japan of course I thought. Then faintly, I heard sounds of typing: tak-tak-tak.
I yelled out, "Hello? Don't be alarmed, I am a pokemon trainer!"
A non-native English voice answered back in a tired but calm manner: "Make yourself at home Misty"
Misty was a female character in Pokemon. But I wasn't a girl and my voice certainly wasn't high pitched either. I slowly approached the glow in the center of the room and peered over. Gasp.
"Well Misty, what did you expect? A person? Don't be so foolish, you're the last person on earth, the pokemon go servers confirmed it."
"Well I, but wait, I mean..., how are you even speaking?" I stammered as I stared at one exactly cute Corgi typing away at the console. "Who are you?"
"I'm Misty's Corgi of course. Did you forget Misty?" replied the corgi. "But years ago I was known as another. Satoru Iwata."
My jaw dropped. Satoru Iwata had died in 2015 as the president of Nintendo due to a tumor. How could this be possible? Was this some sort of immortality technique the Japanese were only aware of? Or...?
Misty's Corgi stopped typing and looked up at me as if it sensed my questions. It looked me straight in the eye and replied, "On the internet, nobody knows your a corgi." | I looked up from my phone. His cold eyes were watching me from a distant street corner. Smoke spilled from between his lips as his cigarette fell to the ground.
"So... You want to catch them all?!" He screamed, his shrill voice bouncing off the walls. I stood dumbfounded in the centre of the road.
"Good, good..." He whispered to himself as he moved out from the shadows. "Gotta- Gotta catch them... Gotta catch them all!" He incessantly mumbled to himself whilst wringing his hands. His eyes bore down on me.
He stopped dead in the street, twenty feet from me. He stopped murmuring. Quick as a flash he jumped up and ran towards me, turning his baseball cap backwards, he screamed, "metapod! I choose you-"
His warcry fell flat as two golden bullets struck his chest. His body dropped to the floor. His cap, a short distance away.
"Pfft! Tourists..." I rolled my eyes and continued my epic journey home. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | Humanity hadn't witnessed an epidemic this devastating since the bubonic plague.
It began slowly, then spread exponentionally as most diseases do. I remember the day my brother, an EMT who was constantly in contact with the troubled and dying, came home with a headache and a loud, persistent cough. Everyone thought it was just the start of another flu season that a shot would be enough to cover, my mother chastising him for not getting a vaccination quick enough.
That is, until we found him dead in his room, the glow of his 3ds illuminating his glassy, blank eyes.
After the results from my brothers autopsy came in, it was discovered that the disease had a long icubation period, meaning that people could become infected long before any symptoms were detected.
Shorty after the body count began to rise, airports and highways were shut down and curfews mandated, we were told our city was ground zero, and my family, along with my dog, were placed in quarantine, any news of the outside world brought to us by the slow wifi we could connect our phones to.
The days in quarantine were made somewhat more bareable as the hospital staff placed lures around the few pokestops we had access to. I would proudly show off my new Charizard and Scyther to the nurses, the only people left I had to talk to since the rest of my family had gotten ill and died one by one.
For some reason, I was the only one in my immediate and extended family who was immune to the disease. For a short while I thought somehow my dog, Dessa, was too, until a strain of the disease mutated and spread to animals as well, sending my faithful akita to meet my family.
When I had been cleared to leave quarantine the city had been reduced from a couple million to just over a hundred thousand and dropping everyday. I took solace in camping out in the graveyard, spinning the pokestop planted on my brothers grave, collecting items and occasionally placing a lure. I owned all the gyms at the hospital I had been quarantined at, and entrusted only the Arcanine named Dessa to defend the only gym in the cemetery.
Every week or so I ventured out of my camping spot to go into the city to get supplies, occasionally running into someone. Usually they would avoid eye contact and act as terrified as I felt, some times they would turn out to be dangerous and rob me, and the one time someone had tried to rape me I plunged my fathers hunting knife into their crotch and ran as fast as my emaciated legs could carry me.
On the eve on my eigteenth birthday I realzied it had been three months since I had last seen anyone, had a gym taken from me, or spotted a lure. I decided that I was the last person alive in my city and that tomorrow I would hang myself on the cherry tree by the cemetery entrance, as humanity was doomed anyway.
That was, until, my phone vibrated. If I hadnt been so far gone I would have screamed, but instead I disconnected the phone from the battery pack and read the single notification from pokemon go that read, "Attention Trainers!"
Confused, I slid to unlock and saw my team leader, Candela, delivering an 'urgent message'.
"Trainer! We need your help! An evil organization by the name of TEAM ROCKET has captured the legendary pokemon MOLTRES, ZAPDOS, AND ARTICUNO! We need you to report to Professor Willow's lab in Sanfransico, California so that we may all band together to stop their malicious scheme! Do you accept?"
San Fransico was where Nianitc headquarters was located. Accepting meant leaving my home, my family, and traversing the desert just so I could continue a game that I had basically already completed. Obvioulsy whoever was manning the servers at this point was trying to gather all the living people who had access to this game in one place, to maybe try and start a new society of people that were immune to the disease.
I looked to my left towards the headstone of my mother, then to my right towards the headstone of my father. My sister and brother were on each side of them, respectively. I laid down between my parents, hit decline, and began tying the noose for tomorrow.
"I'll see you all soon."
| I looked up from my phone. His cold eyes were watching me from a distant street corner. Smoke spilled from between his lips as his cigarette fell to the ground.
"So... You want to catch them all?!" He screamed, his shrill voice bouncing off the walls. I stood dumbfounded in the centre of the road.
"Good, good..." He whispered to himself as he moved out from the shadows. "Gotta- Gotta catch them... Gotta catch them all!" He incessantly mumbled to himself whilst wringing his hands. His eyes bore down on me.
He stopped dead in the street, twenty feet from me. He stopped murmuring. Quick as a flash he jumped up and ran towards me, turning his baseball cap backwards, he screamed, "metapod! I choose you-"
His warcry fell flat as two golden bullets struck his chest. His body dropped to the floor. His cap, a short distance away.
"Pfft! Tourists..." I rolled my eyes and continued my epic journey home. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | "Is that the last of them?" asked God.
"That's the very last one of them." replied the archangel.
God stroked his beard, his brow knotted in concentration. "You know," he finally said, "even with thousands of years to prepare, I never imagined the end of the world would be so much work!"
The archangel let out a relieved chuckle and grinned. "You can say that again, sir. The passports, the documentation, the housing permits, the exit interviews. This whole transition has kept us busy around the clock. It's hard to believe it was three years ago today that the trumpet sounded!"
God seemed to visibly relax for the first time in millennia. "And is everyone liking it so far? Any complaints?
"Oh, no major issues thus far. Some minor complaints about missing out on season two of Stranger Things and a the insistence that 'this' was going to be the year the Cubs won the World Series, but again, nothing too serious." assured the archangel.
"Well," said God as he cracked his knuckles, "if there is nothing else that needs my attention, I do believe this wraps up another fairly successful universe. Now I think I hear a day of rest calling my name."
The door to the heavenly control room swung open.
A mid-level cherub stood trembling in the doorway. His robe visibly soaked with sweat.
The archangel glared at the interruption. "Can't you see this is a high-level meeting? Who the hell are you?"
The cherub tugged nervously his halo. "Um, hi. Uh. My name is Rodney and I'm from Accounting."
God rolled his eyes.
"Yes, uh," continued Rodney from Accounting, "we were just making one last review of the books before we wrapped this up when we discovered that there was an entry error."
"An 'entry error'?" asked the archangel incredulously. "What kind of 'entry error' could you possibly find three years after the apocalypse?"
Rodney from Accounting gulped. "We missed one, sir."
"Me-damnit" muttered God under his breath.
"How is that even possible?" demanded the archangel. "What has this human even been doing for the past three years?"
"Uh," stammered Rodney from Accounting, "it appears this human has been playing Pokemon Go since the trumpet sounded."
The expression of disbelief that came over the archangel's face would have defied even the greatest painters of the Renaissance.
"Now, now," said God, recovering quickly from the shock, "this 'entry error' shouldn't be too difficult to correct. Just toss out a lure at the nearest Pokestop and they'll be there in no time."
The archangel turned to God, "You mean, after three years of isolated wandering in an apocalyptic wasteland, this human is just going to walk right up to an unexplainable lure?"
"Absolutely" explained God, "because there is only one kind of human who could miss out on the end of the world: Team Instinct." | I looked up from my phone. His cold eyes were watching me from a distant street corner. Smoke spilled from between his lips as his cigarette fell to the ground.
"So... You want to catch them all?!" He screamed, his shrill voice bouncing off the walls. I stood dumbfounded in the centre of the road.
"Good, good..." He whispered to himself as he moved out from the shadows. "Gotta- Gotta catch them... Gotta catch them all!" He incessantly mumbled to himself whilst wringing his hands. His eyes bore down on me.
He stopped dead in the street, twenty feet from me. He stopped murmuring. Quick as a flash he jumped up and ran towards me, turning his baseball cap backwards, he screamed, "metapod! I choose you-"
His warcry fell flat as two golden bullets struck his chest. His body dropped to the floor. His cap, a short distance away.
"Pfft! Tourists..." I rolled my eyes and continued my epic journey home. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | It's pretty amazing how quickly one can adjust to being alone.
Living in the over-crowded post-modern world, one of the most common fantasies is to be the sole survivor in the coming post-apocalyptic world. Or at least one of two survivors - with the other being an incredibly attractive member of the desired gender. But it was just me. For the thousandth morning in a row, it was just me.
And my Pokemon.
I never considered myself to be exceptionally resilient or mentally tough. My parents had divorced when I was in middle school and I didn't cry. I'd had three serious relationships and managed to survive each breakup. I'd even held my childhood dog while it was put to sleep. But I doubt I ever would have imagined myself having the mental fortitude necessary to continue living as the last remaining human on earth. However, I also never imagined I would someday be able to run around outside catching the Pokemon of my childhood.
Pokemon Go! kept my sanity intact. It kept my memories unfaded. It gave me a sense of purpose. It even gave me occasional moments of joy and celebration. Amidst the remains of a first world society, I had absolutely no problem foraging for supplies. Rarely did I ever need to spend more than two or three hours in a day caring my survival. That left a lot of time for catching Pokemon.
It was strange though. Because even after the power grid of my city failed along with what I assumed to be every other cities' infrastructure, the internet and communication satellites still carried on functioning. I could even access my bank account. With no one out there to process or ship my orders from Ebay or Amazon, I quickly converted my entire life savings into incubators, lucky eggs, and incense. I could still earn coins from gyms, but something kept me from dropping off my precious digital monsters at the gray gyms I'd conquered and emptied. Even though I had upgraded to hold the maximum number of Pokemon, I knew in the back of my mind that every monster I dropped off at a gym would be eternally "lost" to me. Not only would they be locked in a gym with no opponents, but they would still take up slots and prevent me from adding new ones.
And so I continued traveling, conquering gyms as I went. A wake of gray gyms emanating from my path. I grew more and more attached to my beloved creatures. I began to name them after people I had known and loved. I gave my mother's name to a maxed-out Lapras. I named my Snorlax after my older brother. My Archanine became my resurrected childhood pet. Soon I had named every one of my Pokemon after all of the people I could remember. My piano teacher. My old orthodontist. The first person I'd ever had a crush on. It was a way of remembering. Of keeping them all alive. Of not feeling so alone.
Until the day I reached LVL 100. Seeing my XP cross that seemingly impossible threshold changed something in me. I realized that playing this game was becoming as pointless as anything that still remained on earth. There was only one thing left to do. Go home. Go back to my own version of Pallet Town and turn off my own game.
I began revisiting all of the empty gyms I had defeated and dropping my companions off at what would be their final resting places. I started with those Pokemon named after acquaintances and continued walking. Mile after mile, gym after gym. I said goodbye to classmates, teammates, and coworkers. I bid my crushes farewell. My friends and mentors each received their own private parting ceremony. I could still see them on my list of Pokemon, but knew that I could never bring them back. Finally, as I reached my home town, only the Lapras with my mother's name remained.
I walked down to the park near our house. The same park she had taken me to on sunny days before she lost the use of her legs. There was a gym there. I sat on the ground and stared at the Lapras for hours. I remembered how, when the pain was bad, she would float for hours in the pool. She said the weightlessness made her feel like she did before the sickness. Before I knew it the sun was going down. I sucked in a breath the same way one inhales as they go over the first big hill on a roller coaster. The kind of helpless feeling that follows making an irreversible choice. The gym lit up. A beautiful Lapras floated weightlessly above it.
My breathing came fast and shallow. My gut spasmed. I buried my hollow head in my hands, my phone tumbling into the grass. The convulsions hit and hit hard. This was it. This was the Game Over. No credits. No end scene. No thanks for playing. Just an empty black screen. I groped for my phone to see my mother one last time before ending my own game. Through my blurred vision I looked at the gym and where my mother's Lapras should have been, but it was gone! The gym was gray! I pulled up my Pokemon list and saw that not only was my Lapras not at its gym, it wasn't on my list at all! All of my Pokemon at disappeared!
I returned to the main screen and began looking around in all directions. The game had to have finally glitched out. The Niantic servers must be powering down. It was all coming to an end. Yet as I looked around, I saw something I hadn't seen in years. The nearest Pokestop was now glowing a faint sort of pink. A lure! Someone had placed a lure!
I sprinted blindly towards the lure, nothing making sense. I reached the stop and collapsed. It was empty. My heart just couldn't take anymore. My HP was nearing 0. I was on the verge of fainting. Darkness was creeping along the edges of my vision when I heard a sound like a thousand footsteps approaching from behind me. I weakly lifted my head enough to see the faint silhouettes of hundreds of people - each of them oddly familiar. Then I heard my mother's voice:
"Don't worry my child. We're all here. You caught us all. You saved us." | I looked up from my phone. His cold eyes were watching me from a distant street corner. Smoke spilled from between his lips as his cigarette fell to the ground.
"So... You want to catch them all?!" He screamed, his shrill voice bouncing off the walls. I stood dumbfounded in the centre of the road.
"Good, good..." He whispered to himself as he moved out from the shadows. "Gotta- Gotta catch them... Gotta catch them all!" He incessantly mumbled to himself whilst wringing his hands. His eyes bore down on me.
He stopped dead in the street, twenty feet from me. He stopped murmuring. Quick as a flash he jumped up and ran towards me, turning his baseball cap backwards, he screamed, "metapod! I choose you-"
His warcry fell flat as two golden bullets struck his chest. His body dropped to the floor. His cap, a short distance away.
"Pfft! Tourists..." I rolled my eyes and continued my epic journey home. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I ran up to the pokestop as fast as I could. It was located at the Dori square in Kyoto. It had taken me a decade just to cross from California over to Japan and find this place. This mecca.
Over the years as I played PokeGO, I had slowly convinced myself that the only people alive must be the ones running the app as it was the only thing still working on the internet. And as I approached the pokestop, my heart began to beat faster and faster.
The pokestop was empty. The derelict white-but-now-faded Nintendo HQ sign leaned wispfully at an angle in the middle of the square. Not a soul stirred, but the lure, the lure was still active for 15 minutes. I had to work fast to find the person who did this.
The Nintendo HQ building itself was a mess. The only thing that showed signs of life were a few defunct terminals that playfully lit up every now and then. I browsed through a book at reception and saw that the PokemonGo team was located on the top floor. Stairs it is.
I crept up to the top of the stairs and found the door propped open by a bowl. Ah ha I thought, and I silently slid the door open and entered. The top floor showed signs of life, dark but cleaned and organized, must be someone from Japan of course I thought. Then faintly, I heard sounds of typing: tak-tak-tak.
I yelled out, "Hello? Don't be alarmed, I am a pokemon trainer!"
A non-native English voice answered back in a tired but calm manner: "Make yourself at home Misty"
Misty was a female character in Pokemon. But I wasn't a girl and my voice certainly wasn't high pitched either. I slowly approached the glow in the center of the room and peered over. Gasp.
"Well Misty, what did you expect? A person? Don't be so foolish, you're the last person on earth, the pokemon go servers confirmed it."
"Well I, but wait, I mean..., how are you even speaking?" I stammered as I stared at one exactly cute Corgi typing away at the console. "Who are you?"
"I'm Misty's Corgi of course. Did you forget Misty?" replied the corgi. "But years ago I was known as another. Satoru Iwata."
My jaw dropped. Satoru Iwata had died in 2015 as the president of Nintendo due to a tumor. How could this be possible? Was this some sort of immortality technique the Japanese were only aware of? Or...?
Misty's Corgi stopped typing and looked up at me as if it sensed my questions. It looked me straight in the eye and replied, "On the internet, nobody knows your a corgi." | It's been, to my reckoning, about two weeks since I woke up one day to find every single person in the world apparently disappeared. I left my house and wandered endlessly empty streets, shouting "hello" into the echoes like that guy in that early 2000s zombie film I've long since forgotten the name of.
It took a day or two to realise I was, possibly, the only person left alive - at least in my country, if not the world. I thought it may be best to head for my nation's capital - a 250 mile walk to the south.
On and on I walked, hitting Pokéstops, hatching eggs and taking over gyms on the way - more out of habit than anything. I borrowed the occasional bike, and trashed one or two by accident (what, I wondered, would Misty say about this?) and survived on what I could loot from the stores I passed. I walked down empty motorways and wondered where all the cars were. I never stopped to think about how the servers continued to run if all the people required to look after them had vanished into thin air.
Eventually I reached the capital and whiled away the hours hitting the Pokéstops. I grew tired and my mind began to drift to thinking about where I might shelter for the night when I see something on my screen that shocks me awake. About 250m away, a Pokeéstop among the many here looks different. Flower petals fountain out from the centre. It's lured.
"Get a grip", I say to myself (who else is there, after all....?). "You're halluncinating. Three weeks of seeing nothing but pretend Pokémon and pretend Pokéstops and no human contact have actually driven you insane." Then I remembered - I came to the capital because I figured other people - if there *were* other people - would have the same idea. I'll check this out and then I'll find somewhere to sleep for the night. There were four other Pokéstops between me and the lured one. They gave me items I'd never seen in the game before - even though I'd now comfortably hit level 40.
I reached the lured stop, and looked around. I shouted like zombie movie guy again. Nothing. No-one. I looked at my screen again. The lure remained active. I tap the stop to see who put the lure down. The username is blank. "What the *fuck*?"
I turn to leave. My phone vibrates and - "you've finally lost it", I tell myself again - the "real world" does too. I look down at my phone.
*This is impossible. This cannot be happening.*
A Pokémon I have never seen in the game before floats over the stop surrounded by a purple shield. I hear a voice from behind and.... slightly above me.
"Long have I hidden. Waiting for this moment. Waiting for you."
I turn around, and face Mewtwo. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | Humanity hadn't witnessed an epidemic this devastating since the bubonic plague.
It began slowly, then spread exponentionally as most diseases do. I remember the day my brother, an EMT who was constantly in contact with the troubled and dying, came home with a headache and a loud, persistent cough. Everyone thought it was just the start of another flu season that a shot would be enough to cover, my mother chastising him for not getting a vaccination quick enough.
That is, until we found him dead in his room, the glow of his 3ds illuminating his glassy, blank eyes.
After the results from my brothers autopsy came in, it was discovered that the disease had a long icubation period, meaning that people could become infected long before any symptoms were detected.
Shorty after the body count began to rise, airports and highways were shut down and curfews mandated, we were told our city was ground zero, and my family, along with my dog, were placed in quarantine, any news of the outside world brought to us by the slow wifi we could connect our phones to.
The days in quarantine were made somewhat more bareable as the hospital staff placed lures around the few pokestops we had access to. I would proudly show off my new Charizard and Scyther to the nurses, the only people left I had to talk to since the rest of my family had gotten ill and died one by one.
For some reason, I was the only one in my immediate and extended family who was immune to the disease. For a short while I thought somehow my dog, Dessa, was too, until a strain of the disease mutated and spread to animals as well, sending my faithful akita to meet my family.
When I had been cleared to leave quarantine the city had been reduced from a couple million to just over a hundred thousand and dropping everyday. I took solace in camping out in the graveyard, spinning the pokestop planted on my brothers grave, collecting items and occasionally placing a lure. I owned all the gyms at the hospital I had been quarantined at, and entrusted only the Arcanine named Dessa to defend the only gym in the cemetery.
Every week or so I ventured out of my camping spot to go into the city to get supplies, occasionally running into someone. Usually they would avoid eye contact and act as terrified as I felt, some times they would turn out to be dangerous and rob me, and the one time someone had tried to rape me I plunged my fathers hunting knife into their crotch and ran as fast as my emaciated legs could carry me.
On the eve on my eigteenth birthday I realzied it had been three months since I had last seen anyone, had a gym taken from me, or spotted a lure. I decided that I was the last person alive in my city and that tomorrow I would hang myself on the cherry tree by the cemetery entrance, as humanity was doomed anyway.
That was, until, my phone vibrated. If I hadnt been so far gone I would have screamed, but instead I disconnected the phone from the battery pack and read the single notification from pokemon go that read, "Attention Trainers!"
Confused, I slid to unlock and saw my team leader, Candela, delivering an 'urgent message'.
"Trainer! We need your help! An evil organization by the name of TEAM ROCKET has captured the legendary pokemon MOLTRES, ZAPDOS, AND ARTICUNO! We need you to report to Professor Willow's lab in Sanfransico, California so that we may all band together to stop their malicious scheme! Do you accept?"
San Fransico was where Nianitc headquarters was located. Accepting meant leaving my home, my family, and traversing the desert just so I could continue a game that I had basically already completed. Obvioulsy whoever was manning the servers at this point was trying to gather all the living people who had access to this game in one place, to maybe try and start a new society of people that were immune to the disease.
I looked to my left towards the headstone of my mother, then to my right towards the headstone of my father. My sister and brother were on each side of them, respectively. I laid down between my parents, hit decline, and began tying the noose for tomorrow.
"I'll see you all soon."
| It's been, to my reckoning, about two weeks since I woke up one day to find every single person in the world apparently disappeared. I left my house and wandered endlessly empty streets, shouting "hello" into the echoes like that guy in that early 2000s zombie film I've long since forgotten the name of.
It took a day or two to realise I was, possibly, the only person left alive - at least in my country, if not the world. I thought it may be best to head for my nation's capital - a 250 mile walk to the south.
On and on I walked, hitting Pokéstops, hatching eggs and taking over gyms on the way - more out of habit than anything. I borrowed the occasional bike, and trashed one or two by accident (what, I wondered, would Misty say about this?) and survived on what I could loot from the stores I passed. I walked down empty motorways and wondered where all the cars were. I never stopped to think about how the servers continued to run if all the people required to look after them had vanished into thin air.
Eventually I reached the capital and whiled away the hours hitting the Pokéstops. I grew tired and my mind began to drift to thinking about where I might shelter for the night when I see something on my screen that shocks me awake. About 250m away, a Pokeéstop among the many here looks different. Flower petals fountain out from the centre. It's lured.
"Get a grip", I say to myself (who else is there, after all....?). "You're halluncinating. Three weeks of seeing nothing but pretend Pokémon and pretend Pokéstops and no human contact have actually driven you insane." Then I remembered - I came to the capital because I figured other people - if there *were* other people - would have the same idea. I'll check this out and then I'll find somewhere to sleep for the night. There were four other Pokéstops between me and the lured one. They gave me items I'd never seen in the game before - even though I'd now comfortably hit level 40.
I reached the lured stop, and looked around. I shouted like zombie movie guy again. Nothing. No-one. I looked at my screen again. The lure remained active. I tap the stop to see who put the lure down. The username is blank. "What the *fuck*?"
I turn to leave. My phone vibrates and - "you've finally lost it", I tell myself again - the "real world" does too. I look down at my phone.
*This is impossible. This cannot be happening.*
A Pokémon I have never seen in the game before floats over the stop surrounded by a purple shield. I hear a voice from behind and.... slightly above me.
"Long have I hidden. Waiting for this moment. Waiting for you."
I turn around, and face Mewtwo. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | "Is that the last of them?" asked God.
"That's the very last one of them." replied the archangel.
God stroked his beard, his brow knotted in concentration. "You know," he finally said, "even with thousands of years to prepare, I never imagined the end of the world would be so much work!"
The archangel let out a relieved chuckle and grinned. "You can say that again, sir. The passports, the documentation, the housing permits, the exit interviews. This whole transition has kept us busy around the clock. It's hard to believe it was three years ago today that the trumpet sounded!"
God seemed to visibly relax for the first time in millennia. "And is everyone liking it so far? Any complaints?
"Oh, no major issues thus far. Some minor complaints about missing out on season two of Stranger Things and a the insistence that 'this' was going to be the year the Cubs won the World Series, but again, nothing too serious." assured the archangel.
"Well," said God as he cracked his knuckles, "if there is nothing else that needs my attention, I do believe this wraps up another fairly successful universe. Now I think I hear a day of rest calling my name."
The door to the heavenly control room swung open.
A mid-level cherub stood trembling in the doorway. His robe visibly soaked with sweat.
The archangel glared at the interruption. "Can't you see this is a high-level meeting? Who the hell are you?"
The cherub tugged nervously his halo. "Um, hi. Uh. My name is Rodney and I'm from Accounting."
God rolled his eyes.
"Yes, uh," continued Rodney from Accounting, "we were just making one last review of the books before we wrapped this up when we discovered that there was an entry error."
"An 'entry error'?" asked the archangel incredulously. "What kind of 'entry error' could you possibly find three years after the apocalypse?"
Rodney from Accounting gulped. "We missed one, sir."
"Me-damnit" muttered God under his breath.
"How is that even possible?" demanded the archangel. "What has this human even been doing for the past three years?"
"Uh," stammered Rodney from Accounting, "it appears this human has been playing Pokemon Go since the trumpet sounded."
The expression of disbelief that came over the archangel's face would have defied even the greatest painters of the Renaissance.
"Now, now," said God, recovering quickly from the shock, "this 'entry error' shouldn't be too difficult to correct. Just toss out a lure at the nearest Pokestop and they'll be there in no time."
The archangel turned to God, "You mean, after three years of isolated wandering in an apocalyptic wasteland, this human is just going to walk right up to an unexplainable lure?"
"Absolutely" explained God, "because there is only one kind of human who could miss out on the end of the world: Team Instinct." | It's been, to my reckoning, about two weeks since I woke up one day to find every single person in the world apparently disappeared. I left my house and wandered endlessly empty streets, shouting "hello" into the echoes like that guy in that early 2000s zombie film I've long since forgotten the name of.
It took a day or two to realise I was, possibly, the only person left alive - at least in my country, if not the world. I thought it may be best to head for my nation's capital - a 250 mile walk to the south.
On and on I walked, hitting Pokéstops, hatching eggs and taking over gyms on the way - more out of habit than anything. I borrowed the occasional bike, and trashed one or two by accident (what, I wondered, would Misty say about this?) and survived on what I could loot from the stores I passed. I walked down empty motorways and wondered where all the cars were. I never stopped to think about how the servers continued to run if all the people required to look after them had vanished into thin air.
Eventually I reached the capital and whiled away the hours hitting the Pokéstops. I grew tired and my mind began to drift to thinking about where I might shelter for the night when I see something on my screen that shocks me awake. About 250m away, a Pokeéstop among the many here looks different. Flower petals fountain out from the centre. It's lured.
"Get a grip", I say to myself (who else is there, after all....?). "You're halluncinating. Three weeks of seeing nothing but pretend Pokémon and pretend Pokéstops and no human contact have actually driven you insane." Then I remembered - I came to the capital because I figured other people - if there *were* other people - would have the same idea. I'll check this out and then I'll find somewhere to sleep for the night. There were four other Pokéstops between me and the lured one. They gave me items I'd never seen in the game before - even though I'd now comfortably hit level 40.
I reached the lured stop, and looked around. I shouted like zombie movie guy again. Nothing. No-one. I looked at my screen again. The lure remained active. I tap the stop to see who put the lure down. The username is blank. "What the *fuck*?"
I turn to leave. My phone vibrates and - "you've finally lost it", I tell myself again - the "real world" does too. I look down at my phone.
*This is impossible. This cannot be happening.*
A Pokémon I have never seen in the game before floats over the stop surrounded by a purple shield. I hear a voice from behind and.... slightly above me.
"Long have I hidden. Waiting for this moment. Waiting for you."
I turn around, and face Mewtwo. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | It's pretty amazing how quickly one can adjust to being alone.
Living in the over-crowded post-modern world, one of the most common fantasies is to be the sole survivor in the coming post-apocalyptic world. Or at least one of two survivors - with the other being an incredibly attractive member of the desired gender. But it was just me. For the thousandth morning in a row, it was just me.
And my Pokemon.
I never considered myself to be exceptionally resilient or mentally tough. My parents had divorced when I was in middle school and I didn't cry. I'd had three serious relationships and managed to survive each breakup. I'd even held my childhood dog while it was put to sleep. But I doubt I ever would have imagined myself having the mental fortitude necessary to continue living as the last remaining human on earth. However, I also never imagined I would someday be able to run around outside catching the Pokemon of my childhood.
Pokemon Go! kept my sanity intact. It kept my memories unfaded. It gave me a sense of purpose. It even gave me occasional moments of joy and celebration. Amidst the remains of a first world society, I had absolutely no problem foraging for supplies. Rarely did I ever need to spend more than two or three hours in a day caring my survival. That left a lot of time for catching Pokemon.
It was strange though. Because even after the power grid of my city failed along with what I assumed to be every other cities' infrastructure, the internet and communication satellites still carried on functioning. I could even access my bank account. With no one out there to process or ship my orders from Ebay or Amazon, I quickly converted my entire life savings into incubators, lucky eggs, and incense. I could still earn coins from gyms, but something kept me from dropping off my precious digital monsters at the gray gyms I'd conquered and emptied. Even though I had upgraded to hold the maximum number of Pokemon, I knew in the back of my mind that every monster I dropped off at a gym would be eternally "lost" to me. Not only would they be locked in a gym with no opponents, but they would still take up slots and prevent me from adding new ones.
And so I continued traveling, conquering gyms as I went. A wake of gray gyms emanating from my path. I grew more and more attached to my beloved creatures. I began to name them after people I had known and loved. I gave my mother's name to a maxed-out Lapras. I named my Snorlax after my older brother. My Archanine became my resurrected childhood pet. Soon I had named every one of my Pokemon after all of the people I could remember. My piano teacher. My old orthodontist. The first person I'd ever had a crush on. It was a way of remembering. Of keeping them all alive. Of not feeling so alone.
Until the day I reached LVL 100. Seeing my XP cross that seemingly impossible threshold changed something in me. I realized that playing this game was becoming as pointless as anything that still remained on earth. There was only one thing left to do. Go home. Go back to my own version of Pallet Town and turn off my own game.
I began revisiting all of the empty gyms I had defeated and dropping my companions off at what would be their final resting places. I started with those Pokemon named after acquaintances and continued walking. Mile after mile, gym after gym. I said goodbye to classmates, teammates, and coworkers. I bid my crushes farewell. My friends and mentors each received their own private parting ceremony. I could still see them on my list of Pokemon, but knew that I could never bring them back. Finally, as I reached my home town, only the Lapras with my mother's name remained.
I walked down to the park near our house. The same park she had taken me to on sunny days before she lost the use of her legs. There was a gym there. I sat on the ground and stared at the Lapras for hours. I remembered how, when the pain was bad, she would float for hours in the pool. She said the weightlessness made her feel like she did before the sickness. Before I knew it the sun was going down. I sucked in a breath the same way one inhales as they go over the first big hill on a roller coaster. The kind of helpless feeling that follows making an irreversible choice. The gym lit up. A beautiful Lapras floated weightlessly above it.
My breathing came fast and shallow. My gut spasmed. I buried my hollow head in my hands, my phone tumbling into the grass. The convulsions hit and hit hard. This was it. This was the Game Over. No credits. No end scene. No thanks for playing. Just an empty black screen. I groped for my phone to see my mother one last time before ending my own game. Through my blurred vision I looked at the gym and where my mother's Lapras should have been, but it was gone! The gym was gray! I pulled up my Pokemon list and saw that not only was my Lapras not at its gym, it wasn't on my list at all! All of my Pokemon at disappeared!
I returned to the main screen and began looking around in all directions. The game had to have finally glitched out. The Niantic servers must be powering down. It was all coming to an end. Yet as I looked around, I saw something I hadn't seen in years. The nearest Pokestop was now glowing a faint sort of pink. A lure! Someone had placed a lure!
I sprinted blindly towards the lure, nothing making sense. I reached the stop and collapsed. It was empty. My heart just couldn't take anymore. My HP was nearing 0. I was on the verge of fainting. Darkness was creeping along the edges of my vision when I heard a sound like a thousand footsteps approaching from behind me. I weakly lifted my head enough to see the faint silhouettes of hundreds of people - each of them oddly familiar. Then I heard my mother's voice:
"Don't worry my child. We're all here. You caught us all. You saved us." | It's been, to my reckoning, about two weeks since I woke up one day to find every single person in the world apparently disappeared. I left my house and wandered endlessly empty streets, shouting "hello" into the echoes like that guy in that early 2000s zombie film I've long since forgotten the name of.
It took a day or two to realise I was, possibly, the only person left alive - at least in my country, if not the world. I thought it may be best to head for my nation's capital - a 250 mile walk to the south.
On and on I walked, hitting Pokéstops, hatching eggs and taking over gyms on the way - more out of habit than anything. I borrowed the occasional bike, and trashed one or two by accident (what, I wondered, would Misty say about this?) and survived on what I could loot from the stores I passed. I walked down empty motorways and wondered where all the cars were. I never stopped to think about how the servers continued to run if all the people required to look after them had vanished into thin air.
Eventually I reached the capital and whiled away the hours hitting the Pokéstops. I grew tired and my mind began to drift to thinking about where I might shelter for the night when I see something on my screen that shocks me awake. About 250m away, a Pokeéstop among the many here looks different. Flower petals fountain out from the centre. It's lured.
"Get a grip", I say to myself (who else is there, after all....?). "You're halluncinating. Three weeks of seeing nothing but pretend Pokémon and pretend Pokéstops and no human contact have actually driven you insane." Then I remembered - I came to the capital because I figured other people - if there *were* other people - would have the same idea. I'll check this out and then I'll find somewhere to sleep for the night. There were four other Pokéstops between me and the lured one. They gave me items I'd never seen in the game before - even though I'd now comfortably hit level 40.
I reached the lured stop, and looked around. I shouted like zombie movie guy again. Nothing. No-one. I looked at my screen again. The lure remained active. I tap the stop to see who put the lure down. The username is blank. "What the *fuck*?"
I turn to leave. My phone vibrates and - "you've finally lost it", I tell myself again - the "real world" does too. I look down at my phone.
*This is impossible. This cannot be happening.*
A Pokémon I have never seen in the game before floats over the stop surrounded by a purple shield. I hear a voice from behind and.... slightly above me.
"Long have I hidden. Waiting for this moment. Waiting for you."
I turn around, and face Mewtwo. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | "Is that the last of them?" asked God.
"That's the very last one of them." replied the archangel.
God stroked his beard, his brow knotted in concentration. "You know," he finally said, "even with thousands of years to prepare, I never imagined the end of the world would be so much work!"
The archangel let out a relieved chuckle and grinned. "You can say that again, sir. The passports, the documentation, the housing permits, the exit interviews. This whole transition has kept us busy around the clock. It's hard to believe it was three years ago today that the trumpet sounded!"
God seemed to visibly relax for the first time in millennia. "And is everyone liking it so far? Any complaints?
"Oh, no major issues thus far. Some minor complaints about missing out on season two of Stranger Things and a the insistence that 'this' was going to be the year the Cubs won the World Series, but again, nothing too serious." assured the archangel.
"Well," said God as he cracked his knuckles, "if there is nothing else that needs my attention, I do believe this wraps up another fairly successful universe. Now I think I hear a day of rest calling my name."
The door to the heavenly control room swung open.
A mid-level cherub stood trembling in the doorway. His robe visibly soaked with sweat.
The archangel glared at the interruption. "Can't you see this is a high-level meeting? Who the hell are you?"
The cherub tugged nervously his halo. "Um, hi. Uh. My name is Rodney and I'm from Accounting."
God rolled his eyes.
"Yes, uh," continued Rodney from Accounting, "we were just making one last review of the books before we wrapped this up when we discovered that there was an entry error."
"An 'entry error'?" asked the archangel incredulously. "What kind of 'entry error' could you possibly find three years after the apocalypse?"
Rodney from Accounting gulped. "We missed one, sir."
"Me-damnit" muttered God under his breath.
"How is that even possible?" demanded the archangel. "What has this human even been doing for the past three years?"
"Uh," stammered Rodney from Accounting, "it appears this human has been playing Pokemon Go since the trumpet sounded."
The expression of disbelief that came over the archangel's face would have defied even the greatest painters of the Renaissance.
"Now, now," said God, recovering quickly from the shock, "this 'entry error' shouldn't be too difficult to correct. Just toss out a lure at the nearest Pokestop and they'll be there in no time."
The archangel turned to God, "You mean, after three years of isolated wandering in an apocalyptic wasteland, this human is just going to walk right up to an unexplainable lure?"
"Absolutely" explained God, "because there is only one kind of human who could miss out on the end of the world: Team Instinct." | I ran up to the pokestop as fast as I could. It was located at the Dori square in Kyoto. It had taken me a decade just to cross from California over to Japan and find this place. This mecca.
Over the years as I played PokeGO, I had slowly convinced myself that the only people alive must be the ones running the app as it was the only thing still working on the internet. And as I approached the pokestop, my heart began to beat faster and faster.
The pokestop was empty. The derelict white-but-now-faded Nintendo HQ sign leaned wispfully at an angle in the middle of the square. Not a soul stirred, but the lure, the lure was still active for 15 minutes. I had to work fast to find the person who did this.
The Nintendo HQ building itself was a mess. The only thing that showed signs of life were a few defunct terminals that playfully lit up every now and then. I browsed through a book at reception and saw that the PokemonGo team was located on the top floor. Stairs it is.
I crept up to the top of the stairs and found the door propped open by a bowl. Ah ha I thought, and I silently slid the door open and entered. The top floor showed signs of life, dark but cleaned and organized, must be someone from Japan of course I thought. Then faintly, I heard sounds of typing: tak-tak-tak.
I yelled out, "Hello? Don't be alarmed, I am a pokemon trainer!"
A non-native English voice answered back in a tired but calm manner: "Make yourself at home Misty"
Misty was a female character in Pokemon. But I wasn't a girl and my voice certainly wasn't high pitched either. I slowly approached the glow in the center of the room and peered over. Gasp.
"Well Misty, what did you expect? A person? Don't be so foolish, you're the last person on earth, the pokemon go servers confirmed it."
"Well I, but wait, I mean..., how are you even speaking?" I stammered as I stared at one exactly cute Corgi typing away at the console. "Who are you?"
"I'm Misty's Corgi of course. Did you forget Misty?" replied the corgi. "But years ago I was known as another. Satoru Iwata."
My jaw dropped. Satoru Iwata had died in 2015 as the president of Nintendo due to a tumor. How could this be possible? Was this some sort of immortality technique the Japanese were only aware of? Or...?
Misty's Corgi stopped typing and looked up at me as if it sensed my questions. It looked me straight in the eye and replied, "On the internet, nobody knows your a corgi." |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | "Is that the last of them?" asked God.
"That's the very last one of them." replied the archangel.
God stroked his beard, his brow knotted in concentration. "You know," he finally said, "even with thousands of years to prepare, I never imagined the end of the world would be so much work!"
The archangel let out a relieved chuckle and grinned. "You can say that again, sir. The passports, the documentation, the housing permits, the exit interviews. This whole transition has kept us busy around the clock. It's hard to believe it was three years ago today that the trumpet sounded!"
God seemed to visibly relax for the first time in millennia. "And is everyone liking it so far? Any complaints?
"Oh, no major issues thus far. Some minor complaints about missing out on season two of Stranger Things and a the insistence that 'this' was going to be the year the Cubs won the World Series, but again, nothing too serious." assured the archangel.
"Well," said God as he cracked his knuckles, "if there is nothing else that needs my attention, I do believe this wraps up another fairly successful universe. Now I think I hear a day of rest calling my name."
The door to the heavenly control room swung open.
A mid-level cherub stood trembling in the doorway. His robe visibly soaked with sweat.
The archangel glared at the interruption. "Can't you see this is a high-level meeting? Who the hell are you?"
The cherub tugged nervously his halo. "Um, hi. Uh. My name is Rodney and I'm from Accounting."
God rolled his eyes.
"Yes, uh," continued Rodney from Accounting, "we were just making one last review of the books before we wrapped this up when we discovered that there was an entry error."
"An 'entry error'?" asked the archangel incredulously. "What kind of 'entry error' could you possibly find three years after the apocalypse?"
Rodney from Accounting gulped. "We missed one, sir."
"Me-damnit" muttered God under his breath.
"How is that even possible?" demanded the archangel. "What has this human even been doing for the past three years?"
"Uh," stammered Rodney from Accounting, "it appears this human has been playing Pokemon Go since the trumpet sounded."
The expression of disbelief that came over the archangel's face would have defied even the greatest painters of the Renaissance.
"Now, now," said God, recovering quickly from the shock, "this 'entry error' shouldn't be too difficult to correct. Just toss out a lure at the nearest Pokestop and they'll be there in no time."
The archangel turned to God, "You mean, after three years of isolated wandering in an apocalyptic wasteland, this human is just going to walk right up to an unexplainable lure?"
"Absolutely" explained God, "because there is only one kind of human who could miss out on the end of the world: Team Instinct." | Today is October 25th, 2016. Today is my birthday! Nobody to celebrate with except my pocket monsters. I thought I'd make my first journal entry today. So hey journal! Let me tell you how this all started.
It feels like yesterday the world was taken by storm by the craze of collecting all of the pocket monsters. Packs of hundreds of people flocking from location to location, meaninglessly flicking their fingers accross their phones to show off their newest enslaved, digital monster. It was the biggest thing to sweep over the consumer world of the decade, maybe ever, and we ate it up... unaware of the true intentions of the inceptors of this cell phone application.
It started after the first big update. It was September 11, 2016. A date that was for sure to be left in the history books to remind us of that tragic day in the United States in 2001. There would be nobody to read about the events that happened on that same day 15 years later. After NIANTIC released its big update allowing players to trade and battle eachother, the popularity of the game sky rocketed again, this time doubled. Every single smart phone user on the planet was playing... that can't be right? There must be some people not playing. No it was right. And NIANTIC thought they had the world in their hands. They were WRONG.
Scientists couldn't explain it. They didn't have a whole lot of time to research it after it happened, so I can't really explain what happened. It was almost like we glitched out of our own matrix. The over capacity of humans connected to the digital world was overwhelming to the environment. Every single person who played pokemon go got sick and died within 12 hours of the updates release. Within 12 hours, every human being playing Pokemon Go had died. And it continued. There was only a couple weeks of other humans wandering around... they all got sick. And they all died. The scientists that were around to study it for that couple of weeks called it the Pidgey Effect. It was basically neurons in our brain got so confused about what dimension we were in that the nea
urons would rust and explode. It was gross.
So now I am on a mission. Somewhere hidden in this stupid apocalyptic game is the NIANTIC headquarters. If there is anyone alive who can fix this, thats where they will be. I headed out on my journey to find this place and turn that dimension off! I was getting close too. Until today.
Lure. Lure!! Lure module lure module!! There is one on a near by pokestop! I have to go! Or do I? Wait a minute think about it... who could possibly be there? There is nobody alive! But I'm alive... maybe someone is there! I had to see. I sat around the Pokestop for 45 minutes... even put up my own lure module. Thats when it hit me... I could feel my head swelling. My throat was very dry. My nose was bleeding? Whats going on?? Holy shit! I'm dying. My first journal entry is my last... I guess the border to this dimension is still here, and its still blurred. I will be dead within the next few hours. If you are reading this... stay away from Pokemon Go! |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | It's pretty amazing how quickly one can adjust to being alone.
Living in the over-crowded post-modern world, one of the most common fantasies is to be the sole survivor in the coming post-apocalyptic world. Or at least one of two survivors - with the other being an incredibly attractive member of the desired gender. But it was just me. For the thousandth morning in a row, it was just me.
And my Pokemon.
I never considered myself to be exceptionally resilient or mentally tough. My parents had divorced when I was in middle school and I didn't cry. I'd had three serious relationships and managed to survive each breakup. I'd even held my childhood dog while it was put to sleep. But I doubt I ever would have imagined myself having the mental fortitude necessary to continue living as the last remaining human on earth. However, I also never imagined I would someday be able to run around outside catching the Pokemon of my childhood.
Pokemon Go! kept my sanity intact. It kept my memories unfaded. It gave me a sense of purpose. It even gave me occasional moments of joy and celebration. Amidst the remains of a first world society, I had absolutely no problem foraging for supplies. Rarely did I ever need to spend more than two or three hours in a day caring my survival. That left a lot of time for catching Pokemon.
It was strange though. Because even after the power grid of my city failed along with what I assumed to be every other cities' infrastructure, the internet and communication satellites still carried on functioning. I could even access my bank account. With no one out there to process or ship my orders from Ebay or Amazon, I quickly converted my entire life savings into incubators, lucky eggs, and incense. I could still earn coins from gyms, but something kept me from dropping off my precious digital monsters at the gray gyms I'd conquered and emptied. Even though I had upgraded to hold the maximum number of Pokemon, I knew in the back of my mind that every monster I dropped off at a gym would be eternally "lost" to me. Not only would they be locked in a gym with no opponents, but they would still take up slots and prevent me from adding new ones.
And so I continued traveling, conquering gyms as I went. A wake of gray gyms emanating from my path. I grew more and more attached to my beloved creatures. I began to name them after people I had known and loved. I gave my mother's name to a maxed-out Lapras. I named my Snorlax after my older brother. My Archanine became my resurrected childhood pet. Soon I had named every one of my Pokemon after all of the people I could remember. My piano teacher. My old orthodontist. The first person I'd ever had a crush on. It was a way of remembering. Of keeping them all alive. Of not feeling so alone.
Until the day I reached LVL 100. Seeing my XP cross that seemingly impossible threshold changed something in me. I realized that playing this game was becoming as pointless as anything that still remained on earth. There was only one thing left to do. Go home. Go back to my own version of Pallet Town and turn off my own game.
I began revisiting all of the empty gyms I had defeated and dropping my companions off at what would be their final resting places. I started with those Pokemon named after acquaintances and continued walking. Mile after mile, gym after gym. I said goodbye to classmates, teammates, and coworkers. I bid my crushes farewell. My friends and mentors each received their own private parting ceremony. I could still see them on my list of Pokemon, but knew that I could never bring them back. Finally, as I reached my home town, only the Lapras with my mother's name remained.
I walked down to the park near our house. The same park she had taken me to on sunny days before she lost the use of her legs. There was a gym there. I sat on the ground and stared at the Lapras for hours. I remembered how, when the pain was bad, she would float for hours in the pool. She said the weightlessness made her feel like she did before the sickness. Before I knew it the sun was going down. I sucked in a breath the same way one inhales as they go over the first big hill on a roller coaster. The kind of helpless feeling that follows making an irreversible choice. The gym lit up. A beautiful Lapras floated weightlessly above it.
My breathing came fast and shallow. My gut spasmed. I buried my hollow head in my hands, my phone tumbling into the grass. The convulsions hit and hit hard. This was it. This was the Game Over. No credits. No end scene. No thanks for playing. Just an empty black screen. I groped for my phone to see my mother one last time before ending my own game. Through my blurred vision I looked at the gym and where my mother's Lapras should have been, but it was gone! The gym was gray! I pulled up my Pokemon list and saw that not only was my Lapras not at its gym, it wasn't on my list at all! All of my Pokemon at disappeared!
I returned to the main screen and began looking around in all directions. The game had to have finally glitched out. The Niantic servers must be powering down. It was all coming to an end. Yet as I looked around, I saw something I hadn't seen in years. The nearest Pokestop was now glowing a faint sort of pink. A lure! Someone had placed a lure!
I sprinted blindly towards the lure, nothing making sense. I reached the stop and collapsed. It was empty. My heart just couldn't take anymore. My HP was nearing 0. I was on the verge of fainting. Darkness was creeping along the edges of my vision when I heard a sound like a thousand footsteps approaching from behind me. I weakly lifted my head enough to see the faint silhouettes of hundreds of people - each of them oddly familiar. Then I heard my mother's voice:
"Don't worry my child. We're all here. You caught us all. You saved us." | Today is October 25th, 2016. Today is my birthday! Nobody to celebrate with except my pocket monsters. I thought I'd make my first journal entry today. So hey journal! Let me tell you how this all started.
It feels like yesterday the world was taken by storm by the craze of collecting all of the pocket monsters. Packs of hundreds of people flocking from location to location, meaninglessly flicking their fingers accross their phones to show off their newest enslaved, digital monster. It was the biggest thing to sweep over the consumer world of the decade, maybe ever, and we ate it up... unaware of the true intentions of the inceptors of this cell phone application.
It started after the first big update. It was September 11, 2016. A date that was for sure to be left in the history books to remind us of that tragic day in the United States in 2001. There would be nobody to read about the events that happened on that same day 15 years later. After NIANTIC released its big update allowing players to trade and battle eachother, the popularity of the game sky rocketed again, this time doubled. Every single smart phone user on the planet was playing... that can't be right? There must be some people not playing. No it was right. And NIANTIC thought they had the world in their hands. They were WRONG.
Scientists couldn't explain it. They didn't have a whole lot of time to research it after it happened, so I can't really explain what happened. It was almost like we glitched out of our own matrix. The over capacity of humans connected to the digital world was overwhelming to the environment. Every single person who played pokemon go got sick and died within 12 hours of the updates release. Within 12 hours, every human being playing Pokemon Go had died. And it continued. There was only a couple weeks of other humans wandering around... they all got sick. And they all died. The scientists that were around to study it for that couple of weeks called it the Pidgey Effect. It was basically neurons in our brain got so confused about what dimension we were in that the nea
urons would rust and explode. It was gross.
So now I am on a mission. Somewhere hidden in this stupid apocalyptic game is the NIANTIC headquarters. If there is anyone alive who can fix this, thats where they will be. I headed out on my journey to find this place and turn that dimension off! I was getting close too. Until today.
Lure. Lure!! Lure module lure module!! There is one on a near by pokestop! I have to go! Or do I? Wait a minute think about it... who could possibly be there? There is nobody alive! But I'm alive... maybe someone is there! I had to see. I sat around the Pokestop for 45 minutes... even put up my own lure module. Thats when it hit me... I could feel my head swelling. My throat was very dry. My nose was bleeding? Whats going on?? Holy shit! I'm dying. My first journal entry is my last... I guess the border to this dimension is still here, and its still blurred. I will be dead within the next few hours. If you are reading this... stay away from Pokemon Go! |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I wasn't sure why the servers were still up and working. I knew they shouldn't be, but I didn't want to question it too much, Pokemon Go was the one thing keeping me sane through this, reminding me that there was a time when I was not the only person left out here. If I questioned it too deeply, the servers might realise that after 18 months, there is no way they should be working. So I just set out every morning, heading towards an area which seemed to have a lot of pokestops, and collected all the pokemon I saw along my way.
It was my routine, always hoping that I was heading towards another person, that someone else had survived, and that we would find each other. At the end of one, long day of walking, I found a spot to rest for the night. As usual, it was a place that people had gathered, before. When there were people to gather. That meant that there were plenty of Pokestops for me to collect supplies from. I'd just gone through my usual routine of swiping through all the stops within range before finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep as much as I could, when I noticed something unusual. Just on the edge of my screen was a pokestop with a lure on it. For a moment I was confused. Wondering why I'd put a lure on a stop I couldn't reach. But then I remembered, it couldn't be me. I'd run out of lures in the early days - I'd used them to try and signal to other people that there was someone nearby, and now it seemed like someone else was doing the same.
I knew if I waited until morning, there was a good chance that the lure would be gone, and whoever had placed it moved on. I had to act now.
Packing up my sleeping bag as fast as I could, I walked towards the lured stop. It was outside a church, which was as delapidated and deserted as the rest of the town had been. No sign that there had been anyone there in months, let alone the past 20 minutes. But, with nothing better to do, I sat and waited, collecting the pokemon which showed up, until the lure went down. But the moment it did, a new lure appeared. Again, just on the edge of my map.
Not having to pack up my gear, this time I arrived at the lure less than 5 minutes after it appeared. But there was still no sign that another person had been there. I found some paper and a marker pen out of my bag, and wrote a note:
"I can see that there's been someone here. Please contact me. My phone number is 07839 234890"
I taped the note to a wall, and hoping that whoever had set the lure would come back to this spot, then settled back down to catching more pokemon.
Suddenly though, my phone started ringing, the displaying showing "unknown number".
I answered it.
"Hello?"
"I got your note on the pokestop."
"What?" There had been noone but me the entire time I was sat here, how could someone have found my number without me seeing them?
"Yeah. You left a note saying to call you."
"Where are you? If you've come past here, why didn't you speak to me? I've been sitting right here since I put it down"
"Because we're out of phase. I've only just worked out how to get my phone in phase with yours."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You think you've been the only person on the planet for the past 18 months? Well, so does every other person. They're all still here. I've spoken to a couple of hundred of them now. I don't know how it happened, but I can teach you how to contact them. You're not alone any more." | Today is October 25th, 2016. Today is my birthday! Nobody to celebrate with except my pocket monsters. I thought I'd make my first journal entry today. So hey journal! Let me tell you how this all started.
It feels like yesterday the world was taken by storm by the craze of collecting all of the pocket monsters. Packs of hundreds of people flocking from location to location, meaninglessly flicking their fingers accross their phones to show off their newest enslaved, digital monster. It was the biggest thing to sweep over the consumer world of the decade, maybe ever, and we ate it up... unaware of the true intentions of the inceptors of this cell phone application.
It started after the first big update. It was September 11, 2016. A date that was for sure to be left in the history books to remind us of that tragic day in the United States in 2001. There would be nobody to read about the events that happened on that same day 15 years later. After NIANTIC released its big update allowing players to trade and battle eachother, the popularity of the game sky rocketed again, this time doubled. Every single smart phone user on the planet was playing... that can't be right? There must be some people not playing. No it was right. And NIANTIC thought they had the world in their hands. They were WRONG.
Scientists couldn't explain it. They didn't have a whole lot of time to research it after it happened, so I can't really explain what happened. It was almost like we glitched out of our own matrix. The over capacity of humans connected to the digital world was overwhelming to the environment. Every single person who played pokemon go got sick and died within 12 hours of the updates release. Within 12 hours, every human being playing Pokemon Go had died. And it continued. There was only a couple weeks of other humans wandering around... they all got sick. And they all died. The scientists that were around to study it for that couple of weeks called it the Pidgey Effect. It was basically neurons in our brain got so confused about what dimension we were in that the nea
urons would rust and explode. It was gross.
So now I am on a mission. Somewhere hidden in this stupid apocalyptic game is the NIANTIC headquarters. If there is anyone alive who can fix this, thats where they will be. I headed out on my journey to find this place and turn that dimension off! I was getting close too. Until today.
Lure. Lure!! Lure module lure module!! There is one on a near by pokestop! I have to go! Or do I? Wait a minute think about it... who could possibly be there? There is nobody alive! But I'm alive... maybe someone is there! I had to see. I sat around the Pokestop for 45 minutes... even put up my own lure module. Thats when it hit me... I could feel my head swelling. My throat was very dry. My nose was bleeding? Whats going on?? Holy shit! I'm dying. My first journal entry is my last... I guess the border to this dimension is still here, and its still blurred. I will be dead within the next few hours. If you are reading this... stay away from Pokemon Go! |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | It's pretty amazing how quickly one can adjust to being alone.
Living in the over-crowded post-modern world, one of the most common fantasies is to be the sole survivor in the coming post-apocalyptic world. Or at least one of two survivors - with the other being an incredibly attractive member of the desired gender. But it was just me. For the thousandth morning in a row, it was just me.
And my Pokemon.
I never considered myself to be exceptionally resilient or mentally tough. My parents had divorced when I was in middle school and I didn't cry. I'd had three serious relationships and managed to survive each breakup. I'd even held my childhood dog while it was put to sleep. But I doubt I ever would have imagined myself having the mental fortitude necessary to continue living as the last remaining human on earth. However, I also never imagined I would someday be able to run around outside catching the Pokemon of my childhood.
Pokemon Go! kept my sanity intact. It kept my memories unfaded. It gave me a sense of purpose. It even gave me occasional moments of joy and celebration. Amidst the remains of a first world society, I had absolutely no problem foraging for supplies. Rarely did I ever need to spend more than two or three hours in a day caring my survival. That left a lot of time for catching Pokemon.
It was strange though. Because even after the power grid of my city failed along with what I assumed to be every other cities' infrastructure, the internet and communication satellites still carried on functioning. I could even access my bank account. With no one out there to process or ship my orders from Ebay or Amazon, I quickly converted my entire life savings into incubators, lucky eggs, and incense. I could still earn coins from gyms, but something kept me from dropping off my precious digital monsters at the gray gyms I'd conquered and emptied. Even though I had upgraded to hold the maximum number of Pokemon, I knew in the back of my mind that every monster I dropped off at a gym would be eternally "lost" to me. Not only would they be locked in a gym with no opponents, but they would still take up slots and prevent me from adding new ones.
And so I continued traveling, conquering gyms as I went. A wake of gray gyms emanating from my path. I grew more and more attached to my beloved creatures. I began to name them after people I had known and loved. I gave my mother's name to a maxed-out Lapras. I named my Snorlax after my older brother. My Archanine became my resurrected childhood pet. Soon I had named every one of my Pokemon after all of the people I could remember. My piano teacher. My old orthodontist. The first person I'd ever had a crush on. It was a way of remembering. Of keeping them all alive. Of not feeling so alone.
Until the day I reached LVL 100. Seeing my XP cross that seemingly impossible threshold changed something in me. I realized that playing this game was becoming as pointless as anything that still remained on earth. There was only one thing left to do. Go home. Go back to my own version of Pallet Town and turn off my own game.
I began revisiting all of the empty gyms I had defeated and dropping my companions off at what would be their final resting places. I started with those Pokemon named after acquaintances and continued walking. Mile after mile, gym after gym. I said goodbye to classmates, teammates, and coworkers. I bid my crushes farewell. My friends and mentors each received their own private parting ceremony. I could still see them on my list of Pokemon, but knew that I could never bring them back. Finally, as I reached my home town, only the Lapras with my mother's name remained.
I walked down to the park near our house. The same park she had taken me to on sunny days before she lost the use of her legs. There was a gym there. I sat on the ground and stared at the Lapras for hours. I remembered how, when the pain was bad, she would float for hours in the pool. She said the weightlessness made her feel like she did before the sickness. Before I knew it the sun was going down. I sucked in a breath the same way one inhales as they go over the first big hill on a roller coaster. The kind of helpless feeling that follows making an irreversible choice. The gym lit up. A beautiful Lapras floated weightlessly above it.
My breathing came fast and shallow. My gut spasmed. I buried my hollow head in my hands, my phone tumbling into the grass. The convulsions hit and hit hard. This was it. This was the Game Over. No credits. No end scene. No thanks for playing. Just an empty black screen. I groped for my phone to see my mother one last time before ending my own game. Through my blurred vision I looked at the gym and where my mother's Lapras should have been, but it was gone! The gym was gray! I pulled up my Pokemon list and saw that not only was my Lapras not at its gym, it wasn't on my list at all! All of my Pokemon at disappeared!
I returned to the main screen and began looking around in all directions. The game had to have finally glitched out. The Niantic servers must be powering down. It was all coming to an end. Yet as I looked around, I saw something I hadn't seen in years. The nearest Pokestop was now glowing a faint sort of pink. A lure! Someone had placed a lure!
I sprinted blindly towards the lure, nothing making sense. I reached the stop and collapsed. It was empty. My heart just couldn't take anymore. My HP was nearing 0. I was on the verge of fainting. Darkness was creeping along the edges of my vision when I heard a sound like a thousand footsteps approaching from behind me. I weakly lifted my head enough to see the faint silhouettes of hundreds of people - each of them oddly familiar. Then I heard my mother's voice:
"Don't worry my child. We're all here. You caught us all. You saved us." | Back a few months ago, it was normal to see the confetti everywhere in the city. It would stream forth, all pink and white, like a party or a wedding day when you walked down the right street.
But that was before everything changed. That was before I went to bed one day and woke up the last man on earth. I guess you could say that was a strange day. I remember driving around the suburbs, desperately searching for something or someone. I checked every single channel on the television, but nothing was screening. The radio was silent. It was like a terrible dream, only this was the reality that I was living right now.
I’m still living that dream, today. Only perhaps I’m about to wake up. The sight of the confetti fills me with equal levels of fear and excitement. I’ve always been quite introverted, which is perhaps why I took to being the last person on the planet better than a lot of people would. I played the usual games in the beginning, turning the local shopping mall into my personal fortress. After all, surely a zombie invasion was impending, and if every single film I’d ever seen on the subject was to be correct – I’d need supplies.
Only the zombies never came. I got bored. I put on weight. So I started exploring the ghost town I found myself in – and I mean really exploring. After exploring the town, I explored the county. Then the continent. All while playing one of my favourite games: Pokemon Go. Playing it gave me some sense of normalcy. Perhaps it’s the only thing that has kept me sane.
Till today. Today I saw confetti that could not possibly be there. Today I saw a lure, that could have only been set off by a physical human being. Is it a trick, or a trap, or just me going crazy? Only one way to find out, I guess.
“Hello?”
I wish I hadn’t called out. I haven’t heard the sound of my own voice in so long. It’s husky with disuse. And it goes unanswered. There’s no one in sight. Noone and nothing. I spit. Maybe it’s a glitch. Although –
There. In the distance. Glowing, blue and bright. It couldn’t… It couldn’t be. I make a quick movement, and I’m there. Face-to-face. It’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. My heart thumps, and I drop to my knees, trembling as I raise my finger. “Articuno?” |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I wasn't sure why the servers were still up and working. I knew they shouldn't be, but I didn't want to question it too much, Pokemon Go was the one thing keeping me sane through this, reminding me that there was a time when I was not the only person left out here. If I questioned it too deeply, the servers might realise that after 18 months, there is no way they should be working. So I just set out every morning, heading towards an area which seemed to have a lot of pokestops, and collected all the pokemon I saw along my way.
It was my routine, always hoping that I was heading towards another person, that someone else had survived, and that we would find each other. At the end of one, long day of walking, I found a spot to rest for the night. As usual, it was a place that people had gathered, before. When there were people to gather. That meant that there were plenty of Pokestops for me to collect supplies from. I'd just gone through my usual routine of swiping through all the stops within range before finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep as much as I could, when I noticed something unusual. Just on the edge of my screen was a pokestop with a lure on it. For a moment I was confused. Wondering why I'd put a lure on a stop I couldn't reach. But then I remembered, it couldn't be me. I'd run out of lures in the early days - I'd used them to try and signal to other people that there was someone nearby, and now it seemed like someone else was doing the same.
I knew if I waited until morning, there was a good chance that the lure would be gone, and whoever had placed it moved on. I had to act now.
Packing up my sleeping bag as fast as I could, I walked towards the lured stop. It was outside a church, which was as delapidated and deserted as the rest of the town had been. No sign that there had been anyone there in months, let alone the past 20 minutes. But, with nothing better to do, I sat and waited, collecting the pokemon which showed up, until the lure went down. But the moment it did, a new lure appeared. Again, just on the edge of my map.
Not having to pack up my gear, this time I arrived at the lure less than 5 minutes after it appeared. But there was still no sign that another person had been there. I found some paper and a marker pen out of my bag, and wrote a note:
"I can see that there's been someone here. Please contact me. My phone number is 07839 234890"
I taped the note to a wall, and hoping that whoever had set the lure would come back to this spot, then settled back down to catching more pokemon.
Suddenly though, my phone started ringing, the displaying showing "unknown number".
I answered it.
"Hello?"
"I got your note on the pokestop."
"What?" There had been noone but me the entire time I was sat here, how could someone have found my number without me seeing them?
"Yeah. You left a note saying to call you."
"Where are you? If you've come past here, why didn't you speak to me? I've been sitting right here since I put it down"
"Because we're out of phase. I've only just worked out how to get my phone in phase with yours."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You think you've been the only person on the planet for the past 18 months? Well, so does every other person. They're all still here. I've spoken to a couple of hundred of them now. I don't know how it happened, but I can teach you how to contact them. You're not alone any more." | Back a few months ago, it was normal to see the confetti everywhere in the city. It would stream forth, all pink and white, like a party or a wedding day when you walked down the right street.
But that was before everything changed. That was before I went to bed one day and woke up the last man on earth. I guess you could say that was a strange day. I remember driving around the suburbs, desperately searching for something or someone. I checked every single channel on the television, but nothing was screening. The radio was silent. It was like a terrible dream, only this was the reality that I was living right now.
I’m still living that dream, today. Only perhaps I’m about to wake up. The sight of the confetti fills me with equal levels of fear and excitement. I’ve always been quite introverted, which is perhaps why I took to being the last person on the planet better than a lot of people would. I played the usual games in the beginning, turning the local shopping mall into my personal fortress. After all, surely a zombie invasion was impending, and if every single film I’d ever seen on the subject was to be correct – I’d need supplies.
Only the zombies never came. I got bored. I put on weight. So I started exploring the ghost town I found myself in – and I mean really exploring. After exploring the town, I explored the county. Then the continent. All while playing one of my favourite games: Pokemon Go. Playing it gave me some sense of normalcy. Perhaps it’s the only thing that has kept me sane.
Till today. Today I saw confetti that could not possibly be there. Today I saw a lure, that could have only been set off by a physical human being. Is it a trick, or a trap, or just me going crazy? Only one way to find out, I guess.
“Hello?”
I wish I hadn’t called out. I haven’t heard the sound of my own voice in so long. It’s husky with disuse. And it goes unanswered. There’s no one in sight. Noone and nothing. I spit. Maybe it’s a glitch. Although –
There. In the distance. Glowing, blue and bright. It couldn’t… It couldn’t be. I make a quick movement, and I’m there. Face-to-face. It’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. My heart thumps, and I drop to my knees, trembling as I raise my finger. “Articuno?” |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | It had been months since I'd last seen another human being. Things were getting colder now, the lack of movement and body heat on the earth, coupled with the sudden abundance of plants would do that, I suppose. It was strange, despite the world as we know it having ended, some parts of the internet still functioned. I still played Pokemon Go from time to time as I travelled into the ruins of the larger cities. The Pokestops were often restaurants, so they would help me find some food to eat. As I set up camp for a night, I plugged my mobile phone into its solar battery pack and opened up the application.
Something was off, one of the pokestops was different, outlined by a pink border and spouting flower petals. There was a *lure.* I grabbed my bags and ran towards the stop, knowing I only had a short while before the lure would disappear. It took me a good twenty minutes to come within range of the stop.
I tapped on the icon to see who could possibly have placed this lure, elated at the prospect of seeing another person for the first time in ages.
The name loaded
it read:
User24315
*Fuck,* a bot. | I head out at sun rise every morning, today was no different. My bag packed with the usual 6 spare batteries, water, sandwiches and trail nuts. The game was become tiring I'd completed my collection months ago and with no one to contest my gyms Valor was everywhere. all I seemed to do was swap out lower CP pokés for there newer arrivals. But with no one around to talk to my Pokémon are the closest thing I have to a friend. Which is what makes transferring them even harder. I set my eyes on a nice road full of pokestops and press on. My only use for pokéstops was the new balls. I'd maxed out my xp a long time ago. I make it half way down the road and my heart sinks, there's a lure! It can't be true. There hasn't been another human on earth for nearly 3 years. I begin to run not even flipping the stops on the way. As I get closer I see a gym in the back ground it's blue, it's Mystic. I look at my pokémon my Golduck was passed out. I revive him and swear revenge. I get to the park where the lure is and sure enough there's a kid sat on the bench with a Pikachu on his shoulders. "Hey I'm Ash nice to meet you" |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | **Day 365**
A whole year since everybody on this planet disappeared. Everybody...except me, that is. At first I thought I was in a dream, everything was just so surreal. I was happily catching my eighth Pidgey for the day when everything turned silent, as if the world had decided to shut down. Out of everything that could have caused this "glitch in the matrix", it just had to be Pokemon Go. The part that really sucks is there weren't even any real Pokemon to catch. Whoever, or whatever did this to me clearly didn't want to entertain my childhood fantasy of living in a Pokemon universe. Those assholes.
I still spend my days catching Pokemon. It's all I really do nowadays. Eat, sleep, and catching them all. Except I've actually already caught all of the Pokemon available in Australia. I've got at least 5 copies of even the rarest ones. Once you get to know where they spawn it really isn't hard to find them. I wish Niantic hadn't made so many Pokemon region-specific. Still, I couldn't justify learning to fly a plane or captain a ship just to catch some imaginary region-locked Pokemon so I can show them off to the zero other humans left on this planet. Either way, I am without a doubt, the greatest Pokemon trainer on this planet. Ha. Ha.
**Day 847**
*What is going on?* I looked at my Pokemon Go screen with more excitement than I'd felt in months. *This cannot be real.* Yet the animation was there. I struggled to recall if I'd set that one up myself within the last 30 minutes. No, definitely not, I had run out of lures many months ago. I don't even remember the last time I set one up. A sudden wave of panic and fear swept over me. *Could there be someone else out there? Was my reality about to be "reconnected" with the realities of the other 7.4 billion or so people that had just suddenly vanished?* I suddenly felt the need to sprint towards the location of the Pokestop. I *had* to get there before the lure runs out. I closed in on my target. My heart was thudding intensely. I hadn't felt this level of anticipation since I saw my first ever Dragonite. I walked up to the Pokestop - **SOUTHERN CROSS STATION** - one of favourite train stations. I used to catch this train to work all the time back when I still had a job. But something wasn't quite right...the station sign had something beneath it. I leaned in closer, there was a small piece of paper glued to the bottom of the sign. My heart rate must have doubled as I reached out to grab the piece of paper. The words written on it were in an instantly recognizable font, identical to the Pokemon Go font I'd read a million times on the loading screen. The words read: "NIANTIC: Augmented Reality Simulation #1: Complete."
Wow, didn't expect this to become popular!
For those interested in a continuation, head over to /r/i_am_theone1221 and I will do a continuation later tonight. | I head out at sun rise every morning, today was no different. My bag packed with the usual 6 spare batteries, water, sandwiches and trail nuts. The game was become tiring I'd completed my collection months ago and with no one to contest my gyms Valor was everywhere. all I seemed to do was swap out lower CP pokés for there newer arrivals. But with no one around to talk to my Pokémon are the closest thing I have to a friend. Which is what makes transferring them even harder. I set my eyes on a nice road full of pokestops and press on. My only use for pokéstops was the new balls. I'd maxed out my xp a long time ago. I make it half way down the road and my heart sinks, there's a lure! It can't be true. There hasn't been another human on earth for nearly 3 years. I begin to run not even flipping the stops on the way. As I get closer I see a gym in the back ground it's blue, it's Mystic. I look at my pokémon my Golduck was passed out. I revive him and swear revenge. I get to the park where the lure is and sure enough there's a kid sat on the bench with a Pikachu on his shoulders. "Hey I'm Ash nice to meet you" |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I wasn't sure why the servers were still up and working. I knew they shouldn't be, but I didn't want to question it too much, Pokemon Go was the one thing keeping me sane through this, reminding me that there was a time when I was not the only person left out here. If I questioned it too deeply, the servers might realise that after 18 months, there is no way they should be working. So I just set out every morning, heading towards an area which seemed to have a lot of pokestops, and collected all the pokemon I saw along my way.
It was my routine, always hoping that I was heading towards another person, that someone else had survived, and that we would find each other. At the end of one, long day of walking, I found a spot to rest for the night. As usual, it was a place that people had gathered, before. When there were people to gather. That meant that there were plenty of Pokestops for me to collect supplies from. I'd just gone through my usual routine of swiping through all the stops within range before finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep as much as I could, when I noticed something unusual. Just on the edge of my screen was a pokestop with a lure on it. For a moment I was confused. Wondering why I'd put a lure on a stop I couldn't reach. But then I remembered, it couldn't be me. I'd run out of lures in the early days - I'd used them to try and signal to other people that there was someone nearby, and now it seemed like someone else was doing the same.
I knew if I waited until morning, there was a good chance that the lure would be gone, and whoever had placed it moved on. I had to act now.
Packing up my sleeping bag as fast as I could, I walked towards the lured stop. It was outside a church, which was as delapidated and deserted as the rest of the town had been. No sign that there had been anyone there in months, let alone the past 20 minutes. But, with nothing better to do, I sat and waited, collecting the pokemon which showed up, until the lure went down. But the moment it did, a new lure appeared. Again, just on the edge of my map.
Not having to pack up my gear, this time I arrived at the lure less than 5 minutes after it appeared. But there was still no sign that another person had been there. I found some paper and a marker pen out of my bag, and wrote a note:
"I can see that there's been someone here. Please contact me. My phone number is 07839 234890"
I taped the note to a wall, and hoping that whoever had set the lure would come back to this spot, then settled back down to catching more pokemon.
Suddenly though, my phone started ringing, the displaying showing "unknown number".
I answered it.
"Hello?"
"I got your note on the pokestop."
"What?" There had been noone but me the entire time I was sat here, how could someone have found my number without me seeing them?
"Yeah. You left a note saying to call you."
"Where are you? If you've come past here, why didn't you speak to me? I've been sitting right here since I put it down"
"Because we're out of phase. I've only just worked out how to get my phone in phase with yours."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You think you've been the only person on the planet for the past 18 months? Well, so does every other person. They're all still here. I've spoken to a couple of hundred of them now. I don't know how it happened, but I can teach you how to contact them. You're not alone any more." | I head out at sun rise every morning, today was no different. My bag packed with the usual 6 spare batteries, water, sandwiches and trail nuts. The game was become tiring I'd completed my collection months ago and with no one to contest my gyms Valor was everywhere. all I seemed to do was swap out lower CP pokés for there newer arrivals. But with no one around to talk to my Pokémon are the closest thing I have to a friend. Which is what makes transferring them even harder. I set my eyes on a nice road full of pokestops and press on. My only use for pokéstops was the new balls. I'd maxed out my xp a long time ago. I make it half way down the road and my heart sinks, there's a lure! It can't be true. There hasn't been another human on earth for nearly 3 years. I begin to run not even flipping the stops on the way. As I get closer I see a gym in the back ground it's blue, it's Mystic. I look at my pokémon my Golduck was passed out. I revive him and swear revenge. I get to the park where the lure is and sure enough there's a kid sat on the bench with a Pikachu on his shoulders. "Hey I'm Ash nice to meet you" |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I wasn't sure why the servers were still up and working. I knew they shouldn't be, but I didn't want to question it too much, Pokemon Go was the one thing keeping me sane through this, reminding me that there was a time when I was not the only person left out here. If I questioned it too deeply, the servers might realise that after 18 months, there is no way they should be working. So I just set out every morning, heading towards an area which seemed to have a lot of pokestops, and collected all the pokemon I saw along my way.
It was my routine, always hoping that I was heading towards another person, that someone else had survived, and that we would find each other. At the end of one, long day of walking, I found a spot to rest for the night. As usual, it was a place that people had gathered, before. When there were people to gather. That meant that there were plenty of Pokestops for me to collect supplies from. I'd just gone through my usual routine of swiping through all the stops within range before finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep as much as I could, when I noticed something unusual. Just on the edge of my screen was a pokestop with a lure on it. For a moment I was confused. Wondering why I'd put a lure on a stop I couldn't reach. But then I remembered, it couldn't be me. I'd run out of lures in the early days - I'd used them to try and signal to other people that there was someone nearby, and now it seemed like someone else was doing the same.
I knew if I waited until morning, there was a good chance that the lure would be gone, and whoever had placed it moved on. I had to act now.
Packing up my sleeping bag as fast as I could, I walked towards the lured stop. It was outside a church, which was as delapidated and deserted as the rest of the town had been. No sign that there had been anyone there in months, let alone the past 20 minutes. But, with nothing better to do, I sat and waited, collecting the pokemon which showed up, until the lure went down. But the moment it did, a new lure appeared. Again, just on the edge of my map.
Not having to pack up my gear, this time I arrived at the lure less than 5 minutes after it appeared. But there was still no sign that another person had been there. I found some paper and a marker pen out of my bag, and wrote a note:
"I can see that there's been someone here. Please contact me. My phone number is 07839 234890"
I taped the note to a wall, and hoping that whoever had set the lure would come back to this spot, then settled back down to catching more pokemon.
Suddenly though, my phone started ringing, the displaying showing "unknown number".
I answered it.
"Hello?"
"I got your note on the pokestop."
"What?" There had been noone but me the entire time I was sat here, how could someone have found my number without me seeing them?
"Yeah. You left a note saying to call you."
"Where are you? If you've come past here, why didn't you speak to me? I've been sitting right here since I put it down"
"Because we're out of phase. I've only just worked out how to get my phone in phase with yours."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You think you've been the only person on the planet for the past 18 months? Well, so does every other person. They're all still here. I've spoken to a couple of hundred of them now. I don't know how it happened, but I can teach you how to contact them. You're not alone any more." | It had been months since I'd last seen another human being. Things were getting colder now, the lack of movement and body heat on the earth, coupled with the sudden abundance of plants would do that, I suppose. It was strange, despite the world as we know it having ended, some parts of the internet still functioned. I still played Pokemon Go from time to time as I travelled into the ruins of the larger cities. The Pokestops were often restaurants, so they would help me find some food to eat. As I set up camp for a night, I plugged my mobile phone into its solar battery pack and opened up the application.
Something was off, one of the pokestops was different, outlined by a pink border and spouting flower petals. There was a *lure.* I grabbed my bags and ran towards the stop, knowing I only had a short while before the lure would disappear. It took me a good twenty minutes to come within range of the stop.
I tapped on the icon to see who could possibly have placed this lure, elated at the prospect of seeing another person for the first time in ages.
The name loaded
it read:
User24315
*Fuck,* a bot. |
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | [WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure. | I wasn't sure why the servers were still up and working. I knew they shouldn't be, but I didn't want to question it too much, Pokemon Go was the one thing keeping me sane through this, reminding me that there was a time when I was not the only person left out here. If I questioned it too deeply, the servers might realise that after 18 months, there is no way they should be working. So I just set out every morning, heading towards an area which seemed to have a lot of pokestops, and collected all the pokemon I saw along my way.
It was my routine, always hoping that I was heading towards another person, that someone else had survived, and that we would find each other. At the end of one, long day of walking, I found a spot to rest for the night. As usual, it was a place that people had gathered, before. When there were people to gather. That meant that there were plenty of Pokestops for me to collect supplies from. I'd just gone through my usual routine of swiping through all the stops within range before finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep as much as I could, when I noticed something unusual. Just on the edge of my screen was a pokestop with a lure on it. For a moment I was confused. Wondering why I'd put a lure on a stop I couldn't reach. But then I remembered, it couldn't be me. I'd run out of lures in the early days - I'd used them to try and signal to other people that there was someone nearby, and now it seemed like someone else was doing the same.
I knew if I waited until morning, there was a good chance that the lure would be gone, and whoever had placed it moved on. I had to act now.
Packing up my sleeping bag as fast as I could, I walked towards the lured stop. It was outside a church, which was as delapidated and deserted as the rest of the town had been. No sign that there had been anyone there in months, let alone the past 20 minutes. But, with nothing better to do, I sat and waited, collecting the pokemon which showed up, until the lure went down. But the moment it did, a new lure appeared. Again, just on the edge of my map.
Not having to pack up my gear, this time I arrived at the lure less than 5 minutes after it appeared. But there was still no sign that another person had been there. I found some paper and a marker pen out of my bag, and wrote a note:
"I can see that there's been someone here. Please contact me. My phone number is 07839 234890"
I taped the note to a wall, and hoping that whoever had set the lure would come back to this spot, then settled back down to catching more pokemon.
Suddenly though, my phone started ringing, the displaying showing "unknown number".
I answered it.
"Hello?"
"I got your note on the pokestop."
"What?" There had been noone but me the entire time I was sat here, how could someone have found my number without me seeing them?
"Yeah. You left a note saying to call you."
"Where are you? If you've come past here, why didn't you speak to me? I've been sitting right here since I put it down"
"Because we're out of phase. I've only just worked out how to get my phone in phase with yours."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You think you've been the only person on the planet for the past 18 months? Well, so does every other person. They're all still here. I've spoken to a couple of hundred of them now. I don't know how it happened, but I can teach you how to contact them. You're not alone any more." | **Day 365**
A whole year since everybody on this planet disappeared. Everybody...except me, that is. At first I thought I was in a dream, everything was just so surreal. I was happily catching my eighth Pidgey for the day when everything turned silent, as if the world had decided to shut down. Out of everything that could have caused this "glitch in the matrix", it just had to be Pokemon Go. The part that really sucks is there weren't even any real Pokemon to catch. Whoever, or whatever did this to me clearly didn't want to entertain my childhood fantasy of living in a Pokemon universe. Those assholes.
I still spend my days catching Pokemon. It's all I really do nowadays. Eat, sleep, and catching them all. Except I've actually already caught all of the Pokemon available in Australia. I've got at least 5 copies of even the rarest ones. Once you get to know where they spawn it really isn't hard to find them. I wish Niantic hadn't made so many Pokemon region-specific. Still, I couldn't justify learning to fly a plane or captain a ship just to catch some imaginary region-locked Pokemon so I can show them off to the zero other humans left on this planet. Either way, I am without a doubt, the greatest Pokemon trainer on this planet. Ha. Ha.
**Day 847**
*What is going on?* I looked at my Pokemon Go screen with more excitement than I'd felt in months. *This cannot be real.* Yet the animation was there. I struggled to recall if I'd set that one up myself within the last 30 minutes. No, definitely not, I had run out of lures many months ago. I don't even remember the last time I set one up. A sudden wave of panic and fear swept over me. *Could there be someone else out there? Was my reality about to be "reconnected" with the realities of the other 7.4 billion or so people that had just suddenly vanished?* I suddenly felt the need to sprint towards the location of the Pokestop. I *had* to get there before the lure runs out. I closed in on my target. My heart was thudding intensely. I hadn't felt this level of anticipation since I saw my first ever Dragonite. I walked up to the Pokestop - **SOUTHERN CROSS STATION** - one of favourite train stations. I used to catch this train to work all the time back when I still had a job. But something wasn't quite right...the station sign had something beneath it. I leaned in closer, there was a small piece of paper glued to the bottom of the sign. My heart rate must have doubled as I reached out to grab the piece of paper. The words written on it were in an instantly recognizable font, identical to the Pokemon Go font I'd read a million times on the loading screen. The words read: "NIANTIC: Augmented Reality Simulation #1: Complete."
Wow, didn't expect this to become popular!
For those interested in a continuation, head over to /r/i_am_theone1221 and I will do a continuation later tonight. |
EDIT: Wow! Thanks for all the responses! Never thought this would happen! Keep it up, everyone! | [WP] A teen superhero must talk down their suicidal boyfriend/girlfriend, who does not know their secret identity. | "Don't try to talk me down," Michael muttered. "It won't work."
My boyfriend of five years, the man I was sure I would marry one day, stood on the wrong side of the railing. If he fell, his death was certain.
I climbed across the railing myself, matching his precarious position. I was in exactly as much danger as he was; that is to say, none at all. Few knew how my powers really worked, so, despite my fame, Michael probably assumed that I would die as well if I fell.
I would, actually, not that it mattered. I'd died before.
"You want to jump?" I peered over the edge. "Looks fun."
He looked at me like I was crazy. "You... you're *encouraging me?"*
"It's not like it really matters. You don't matter."
He scowled. "Well fuck you too, Clockstopper."
"Nothing matters at all. Everything is pointless... unless you want it to have a point." I smiled at my boyfriend. "And I **know** that someone sees the point in you."
With a guilty look on his face, he turns away. "Yeah, well, he's tough enough. Unlike me. I'm pathetic. *Pointless.*"
I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Hey, Michael..." I pulled off my mask, revealing a face that only looked like a teenager's. "Death only exists so long as there is life, but time is eternal." Then I, not he, jumped. As I fell, I twisted around and shouted, "See you soon!"
As I fell, I mused if I could convince Hades to go for a gay three-way with Persephone watching. That would be fun. | The chill night air swept violently past me, whistling through the broken building beneath me as if to sing the song of my end. cars below were only specks of light impatiently scurrying around like insects and honking loudly at each other. The scaffolding around me creaked and groaned in protest of my weight. If I didn't jump the building might just collapse around me. It seemed ironic that I chose here to fall, The hospital I was born in was only a block away. It, of course, was in shambles too. Everything was. The extraterrestrial attack on this city left everything in shambles. All that was left were the people evacuating below me. This city was my life, I have no where to go...
I heard the flutter of a cape as a presence landed behind me, beams groaning in protest.
"So, it's come to this?" A gruff voice asked from behind me. The voice seemed loud in my ears, irritating even, I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not him.
"Don't act like it's not your fault." I said sternly. Hoping he would go away and let me die in peace.
"I will accept the consequences of my actions, but I did it for the best of the city."He spoke again, this time his voice seemed softer.
"You're here to save me aren't you? That's what you do isn't it. You save people, you save people with your spectacular abilities, but that's not enough isn't it, you have to destroy half the city just to show off your power." I retaliated. My anger was rising, It was like all my emotion that I had walled off was starting to boil. "My family lived here! I'm the only one that survived! My life is over and I have nowhere left to turn! Just let me die, I thought you didn't care about casualties."
"Julia..." his voice was horse.
"I don't even care how you learned my name, just get out of here." Tears began to form in my eyes.
"You think what happened here doesn't tear me apart? I lie in bed every night with all the lost souls drifting around my head, tormenting me. I don't want to lose you too." He begged, his voice suddenly sounding very familiar.
"Jayme?" I breathed, suddenly emptying with realisation.
He stepped out of the shadows, revealing that long dark face that I could never forget. All the hate I had had for the man in the cape seemed wrong now. It was conflicted with memories of our relationship.
"So this is what happened to you, when you disappeared back in February." I shuddered.
"Listen, I know it's been hard on you, but I couldn't put you in danger by being too close to you. I did it to protect you."
I couldn't bring myself to speak. So many emotions and thoughts were racing around in my head. It felt like my head would explode. There was a weight on my chest and the wind felt colder.
"I won't stop you, if you're going to jump. But I ask you to think this through. There are places you can turn to, and I can help you."
I had almost forgotten why I was up here, 30 floors up on this wreck of a building. I had felt so determined that It was the only solution, but now I wasn't so sure. I stole a look down at the ground, it was almost covered in darkness. The darkness would accept me, it could blanket me and turn me into nothing. But then I looked up at Jayme. His eyes spoke a thousand words, he looked broken, shattered, and it broke my heart.
And then I made my choice. I broke into tears as I buried myself in his arms. Whispering teary apologies over and over in his ear.
Crack! I felt a lurch as the building began to collapse underneath me. The ground slipped away from me and I went into free fall. The world slowed around me as Jayme vanished from site. I fell, acknowledging all of my mistakes as my life flashed before my eyes. Then the dread hit me. It was like a bullet, piercing me through chest and leaving a lifeless husk behind.
Then I felt a warmth around me, My stomach lurched as my acceleration plummeted.
I was dead. I knew it. I felt it. Just when I had a sliver of hope.
But then I felt it, the wind, it was still cold. I opened my eyes. Meters from the ground we floated, Jayme holding me in his arms. I knew I was safe.
|
EDIT: Wow! Thanks for all the responses! Never thought this would happen! Keep it up, everyone! | [WP] A teen superhero must talk down their suicidal boyfriend/girlfriend, who does not know their secret identity. | To Whom it May Concern,
It was my "job" for 15 years. Rescuing kittens, foiling bank robberies, saving the city... I never thought I would have to save her.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. Fresh bruises lined my sides and I was pretty sure I had a cracked rib. From my experience, that's always what it was when I had bruises like that. Those were the type of bruises I could handle though. Those were the type of bruises I had become accustomed too. Like boxers or MMA fighters, I could take a lot of punishment. At least... I thought I could.
I woke up and the morning was like any other.I browsed some Reddit on my phone while I sipped coffee and ate whatever she decided to make for breakfast that morning. I can't remember for the life of me what it was. Then, as usual, I was off to work. Of course, she didn't know what the work was. I couldn't tell her. Even without knowing how I moonlighted as a hero, she always worried way too much about me. With everything she had gone through recently, I wanted to be her hero this time. Not the city's hero. Hers.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. We chatted about the usual things but I could tell something was off. Something wasn't quite right about her facial ticks and her physical cues. It was just barely off normal and if I'm being honest, I was hoping she was pregnant. We had been trying for a while and had both gotten to be at about the end of our proverbial ropes after numerous visits to the doctor and experimental remedies but I thought to myself, maybe... just maybe. I kissed her goodbye and headed out into the world to make sure it was a better place for everyone, but mostly for her.
The thing about life is, you never really can know what day is like any other.
I had just busted a ring of child traffickers when I received a text from my handler. "911 Wmn mid 30 top One World could jump any sec."
I was used to texts like this from my handler. They didn't care much for full grammar when lives were on the line and I appreciated that. As cliche as it is, every second counts at that point. I got there as quickly as I could and once I got to the top I realized, it was her.
For a moment, a long moment in a situation like this, I thought about revealing myself. I thought about pulling my mask off and asking her to come home to get some tea with me. I thought about our trip to Orlando and the fun we had at Universal. I thought about the children that we would have and then I realized. If I took my mask off it would put her in magnitudes more danger than she was already in. I just had to get her home and act like I saw it on TV. I just had to talk her down.
"Ma'am," I said in my best superhero voice through lump in my throat, "please, come down from the ledge and talk to me."
"Why?!" she screamed with a full interrobang. "Why should I come down?! I've tried everything I know to try... EVERYTHING!"
At this point I thought back to her ticks. Her nervousness. What the hell was she talking about? I tried to step towards her and she started to step back a bit. I stood like a statue after that. I don't have super speed after all.
"You've tried everything for what miss?"
"For him but it doesn't matter." she replied. "He's obviously cheating on me. Leaving at odd hours of the night, not responding to text messages, showing up with bruises he can't explain... It's been eight years! EIGHT FUCKING YEARS and I still know that he keeps secrets from me EVERY DAY! I can't do this anymore. I can't sit at home wondering who he's out with or who he's in bed with. Why would he do this to me just because I can't have a child. I GAVE HIM EVERYTHING AND IT MEANS NOTHING TO HIM!"
Can't have a child? She never told me that before. This was the part that really got to me and my heart was screaming at me "TAKE OFF YOUR MASK YOU IDIOT! SHOW HER WHO YOU ARE! WHAT YOU DO!" My head was telling me otherwise though.
When you get into this line of work the first rule is to protect those you love at all costs and that's the whole reason for the mask in the first place. As much as we loved each other, as much as I wanted to show her what was going on, I knew she would tell her best friend once she found out about my moonlighting. Her best friend would of course tell a couple other people and it would inevitably spread like wildfire from there. My love would be in constant danger at that point. So... I kept my mask on.
We talked for about 15 minutes total. I tried to convince her that it couldn't be that bad. Maybe he was doing something altruistic that she couldn't see. Maybe he was doing something to make everything better for her in the long run. Maybe he was secretly a heroin addict and just couldn't bring himself to tell her. Anything to dissuade her from taking a step to her doom instead of talking to him. To me.
Talking to her, I waited for that moment from the movies. That moment when the person on the ledge decides that the hero is right. They step down, the hero grabs them, the civilian cries and realizes what life has to offer. I've had it happen many times before. That's when the mask would come off. That romantic moment when someone's life is saved and the hero reveals them self for who they really are. If it was going to happen, that was the time.
That time never came. I begged her to come down through an anxiety that was obvious. The type of anxiety that makes you not quite trust what a "professional" is telling you. The kind of anxiety that comes through when your worst fears may come true. The kind of anxiety that paralyzes even a hero.
Then, she took one small step backwards, one giant step in our lives, and fell. I can't fly. She was on the ground before I could get to the ledge.
As I said before, I once thought I could take a lot of punishment. However, physical pain and mental pain are different. Physical pain heals without effort. Mental pain never heals. Not after something like this.
That is why no one in that tower, or the tower itself, will ever be safe. That is why kittens become stranded in trees, bank robberies are committed and the city will always be in danger. The chaos of it all is the only thing that makes me feel anything anymore. The only thing that makes me feel alive in a world after my reason for living is gone.
Try and stop me if you think you can. I welcome death now as someone welcomes sleep. There's nothing left for me here anyway.
Regards,
- Sadimem
| The chill night air swept violently past me, whistling through the broken building beneath me as if to sing the song of my end. cars below were only specks of light impatiently scurrying around like insects and honking loudly at each other. The scaffolding around me creaked and groaned in protest of my weight. If I didn't jump the building might just collapse around me. It seemed ironic that I chose here to fall, The hospital I was born in was only a block away. It, of course, was in shambles too. Everything was. The extraterrestrial attack on this city left everything in shambles. All that was left were the people evacuating below me. This city was my life, I have no where to go...
I heard the flutter of a cape as a presence landed behind me, beams groaning in protest.
"So, it's come to this?" A gruff voice asked from behind me. The voice seemed loud in my ears, irritating even, I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not him.
"Don't act like it's not your fault." I said sternly. Hoping he would go away and let me die in peace.
"I will accept the consequences of my actions, but I did it for the best of the city."He spoke again, this time his voice seemed softer.
"You're here to save me aren't you? That's what you do isn't it. You save people, you save people with your spectacular abilities, but that's not enough isn't it, you have to destroy half the city just to show off your power." I retaliated. My anger was rising, It was like all my emotion that I had walled off was starting to boil. "My family lived here! I'm the only one that survived! My life is over and I have nowhere left to turn! Just let me die, I thought you didn't care about casualties."
"Julia..." his voice was horse.
"I don't even care how you learned my name, just get out of here." Tears began to form in my eyes.
"You think what happened here doesn't tear me apart? I lie in bed every night with all the lost souls drifting around my head, tormenting me. I don't want to lose you too." He begged, his voice suddenly sounding very familiar.
"Jayme?" I breathed, suddenly emptying with realisation.
He stepped out of the shadows, revealing that long dark face that I could never forget. All the hate I had had for the man in the cape seemed wrong now. It was conflicted with memories of our relationship.
"So this is what happened to you, when you disappeared back in February." I shuddered.
"Listen, I know it's been hard on you, but I couldn't put you in danger by being too close to you. I did it to protect you."
I couldn't bring myself to speak. So many emotions and thoughts were racing around in my head. It felt like my head would explode. There was a weight on my chest and the wind felt colder.
"I won't stop you, if you're going to jump. But I ask you to think this through. There are places you can turn to, and I can help you."
I had almost forgotten why I was up here, 30 floors up on this wreck of a building. I had felt so determined that It was the only solution, but now I wasn't so sure. I stole a look down at the ground, it was almost covered in darkness. The darkness would accept me, it could blanket me and turn me into nothing. But then I looked up at Jayme. His eyes spoke a thousand words, he looked broken, shattered, and it broke my heart.
And then I made my choice. I broke into tears as I buried myself in his arms. Whispering teary apologies over and over in his ear.
Crack! I felt a lurch as the building began to collapse underneath me. The ground slipped away from me and I went into free fall. The world slowed around me as Jayme vanished from site. I fell, acknowledging all of my mistakes as my life flashed before my eyes. Then the dread hit me. It was like a bullet, piercing me through chest and leaving a lifeless husk behind.
Then I felt a warmth around me, My stomach lurched as my acceleration plummeted.
I was dead. I knew it. I felt it. Just when I had a sliver of hope.
But then I felt it, the wind, it was still cold. I opened my eyes. Meters from the ground we floated, Jayme holding me in his arms. I knew I was safe.
|
EDIT: Wow! Thanks for all the responses! Never thought this would happen! Keep it up, everyone! | [WP] A teen superhero must talk down their suicidal boyfriend/girlfriend, who does not know their secret identity. | To Whom it May Concern,
It was my "job" for 15 years. Rescuing kittens, foiling bank robberies, saving the city... I never thought I would have to save her.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. Fresh bruises lined my sides and I was pretty sure I had a cracked rib. From my experience, that's always what it was when I had bruises like that. Those were the type of bruises I could handle though. Those were the type of bruises I had become accustomed too. Like boxers or MMA fighters, I could take a lot of punishment. At least... I thought I could.
I woke up and the morning was like any other.I browsed some Reddit on my phone while I sipped coffee and ate whatever she decided to make for breakfast that morning. I can't remember for the life of me what it was. Then, as usual, I was off to work. Of course, she didn't know what the work was. I couldn't tell her. Even without knowing how I moonlighted as a hero, she always worried way too much about me. With everything she had gone through recently, I wanted to be her hero this time. Not the city's hero. Hers.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. We chatted about the usual things but I could tell something was off. Something wasn't quite right about her facial ticks and her physical cues. It was just barely off normal and if I'm being honest, I was hoping she was pregnant. We had been trying for a while and had both gotten to be at about the end of our proverbial ropes after numerous visits to the doctor and experimental remedies but I thought to myself, maybe... just maybe. I kissed her goodbye and headed out into the world to make sure it was a better place for everyone, but mostly for her.
The thing about life is, you never really can know what day is like any other.
I had just busted a ring of child traffickers when I received a text from my handler. "911 Wmn mid 30 top One World could jump any sec."
I was used to texts like this from my handler. They didn't care much for full grammar when lives were on the line and I appreciated that. As cliche as it is, every second counts at that point. I got there as quickly as I could and once I got to the top I realized, it was her.
For a moment, a long moment in a situation like this, I thought about revealing myself. I thought about pulling my mask off and asking her to come home to get some tea with me. I thought about our trip to Orlando and the fun we had at Universal. I thought about the children that we would have and then I realized. If I took my mask off it would put her in magnitudes more danger than she was already in. I just had to get her home and act like I saw it on TV. I just had to talk her down.
"Ma'am," I said in my best superhero voice through lump in my throat, "please, come down from the ledge and talk to me."
"Why?!" she screamed with a full interrobang. "Why should I come down?! I've tried everything I know to try... EVERYTHING!"
At this point I thought back to her ticks. Her nervousness. What the hell was she talking about? I tried to step towards her and she started to step back a bit. I stood like a statue after that. I don't have super speed after all.
"You've tried everything for what miss?"
"For him but it doesn't matter." she replied. "He's obviously cheating on me. Leaving at odd hours of the night, not responding to text messages, showing up with bruises he can't explain... It's been eight years! EIGHT FUCKING YEARS and I still know that he keeps secrets from me EVERY DAY! I can't do this anymore. I can't sit at home wondering who he's out with or who he's in bed with. Why would he do this to me just because I can't have a child. I GAVE HIM EVERYTHING AND IT MEANS NOTHING TO HIM!"
Can't have a child? She never told me that before. This was the part that really got to me and my heart was screaming at me "TAKE OFF YOUR MASK YOU IDIOT! SHOW HER WHO YOU ARE! WHAT YOU DO!" My head was telling me otherwise though.
When you get into this line of work the first rule is to protect those you love at all costs and that's the whole reason for the mask in the first place. As much as we loved each other, as much as I wanted to show her what was going on, I knew she would tell her best friend once she found out about my moonlighting. Her best friend would of course tell a couple other people and it would inevitably spread like wildfire from there. My love would be in constant danger at that point. So... I kept my mask on.
We talked for about 15 minutes total. I tried to convince her that it couldn't be that bad. Maybe he was doing something altruistic that she couldn't see. Maybe he was doing something to make everything better for her in the long run. Maybe he was secretly a heroin addict and just couldn't bring himself to tell her. Anything to dissuade her from taking a step to her doom instead of talking to him. To me.
Talking to her, I waited for that moment from the movies. That moment when the person on the ledge decides that the hero is right. They step down, the hero grabs them, the civilian cries and realizes what life has to offer. I've had it happen many times before. That's when the mask would come off. That romantic moment when someone's life is saved and the hero reveals them self for who they really are. If it was going to happen, that was the time.
That time never came. I begged her to come down through an anxiety that was obvious. The type of anxiety that makes you not quite trust what a "professional" is telling you. The kind of anxiety that comes through when your worst fears may come true. The kind of anxiety that paralyzes even a hero.
Then, she took one small step backwards, one giant step in our lives, and fell. I can't fly. She was on the ground before I could get to the ledge.
As I said before, I once thought I could take a lot of punishment. However, physical pain and mental pain are different. Physical pain heals without effort. Mental pain never heals. Not after something like this.
That is why no one in that tower, or the tower itself, will ever be safe. That is why kittens become stranded in trees, bank robberies are committed and the city will always be in danger. The chaos of it all is the only thing that makes me feel anything anymore. The only thing that makes me feel alive in a world after my reason for living is gone.
Try and stop me if you think you can. I welcome death now as someone welcomes sleep. There's nothing left for me here anyway.
Regards,
- Sadimem
| "Don't try to talk me down," Michael muttered. "It won't work."
My boyfriend of five years, the man I was sure I would marry one day, stood on the wrong side of the railing. If he fell, his death was certain.
I climbed across the railing myself, matching his precarious position. I was in exactly as much danger as he was; that is to say, none at all. Few knew how my powers really worked, so, despite my fame, Michael probably assumed that I would die as well if I fell.
I would, actually, not that it mattered. I'd died before.
"You want to jump?" I peered over the edge. "Looks fun."
He looked at me like I was crazy. "You... you're *encouraging me?"*
"It's not like it really matters. You don't matter."
He scowled. "Well fuck you too, Clockstopper."
"Nothing matters at all. Everything is pointless... unless you want it to have a point." I smiled at my boyfriend. "And I **know** that someone sees the point in you."
With a guilty look on his face, he turns away. "Yeah, well, he's tough enough. Unlike me. I'm pathetic. *Pointless.*"
I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Hey, Michael..." I pulled off my mask, revealing a face that only looked like a teenager's. "Death only exists so long as there is life, but time is eternal." Then I, not he, jumped. As I fell, I twisted around and shouted, "See you soon!"
As I fell, I mused if I could convince Hades to go for a gay three-way with Persephone watching. That would be fun. |
EDIT: Wow! Thanks for all the responses! Never thought this would happen! Keep it up, everyone! | [WP] A teen superhero must talk down their suicidal boyfriend/girlfriend, who does not know their secret identity. | To Whom it May Concern,
It was my "job" for 15 years. Rescuing kittens, foiling bank robberies, saving the city... I never thought I would have to save her.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. Fresh bruises lined my sides and I was pretty sure I had a cracked rib. From my experience, that's always what it was when I had bruises like that. Those were the type of bruises I could handle though. Those were the type of bruises I had become accustomed too. Like boxers or MMA fighters, I could take a lot of punishment. At least... I thought I could.
I woke up and the morning was like any other.I browsed some Reddit on my phone while I sipped coffee and ate whatever she decided to make for breakfast that morning. I can't remember for the life of me what it was. Then, as usual, I was off to work. Of course, she didn't know what the work was. I couldn't tell her. Even without knowing how I moonlighted as a hero, she always worried way too much about me. With everything she had gone through recently, I wanted to be her hero this time. Not the city's hero. Hers.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. We chatted about the usual things but I could tell something was off. Something wasn't quite right about her facial ticks and her physical cues. It was just barely off normal and if I'm being honest, I was hoping she was pregnant. We had been trying for a while and had both gotten to be at about the end of our proverbial ropes after numerous visits to the doctor and experimental remedies but I thought to myself, maybe... just maybe. I kissed her goodbye and headed out into the world to make sure it was a better place for everyone, but mostly for her.
The thing about life is, you never really can know what day is like any other.
I had just busted a ring of child traffickers when I received a text from my handler. "911 Wmn mid 30 top One World could jump any sec."
I was used to texts like this from my handler. They didn't care much for full grammar when lives were on the line and I appreciated that. As cliche as it is, every second counts at that point. I got there as quickly as I could and once I got to the top I realized, it was her.
For a moment, a long moment in a situation like this, I thought about revealing myself. I thought about pulling my mask off and asking her to come home to get some tea with me. I thought about our trip to Orlando and the fun we had at Universal. I thought about the children that we would have and then I realized. If I took my mask off it would put her in magnitudes more danger than she was already in. I just had to get her home and act like I saw it on TV. I just had to talk her down.
"Ma'am," I said in my best superhero voice through lump in my throat, "please, come down from the ledge and talk to me."
"Why?!" she screamed with a full interrobang. "Why should I come down?! I've tried everything I know to try... EVERYTHING!"
At this point I thought back to her ticks. Her nervousness. What the hell was she talking about? I tried to step towards her and she started to step back a bit. I stood like a statue after that. I don't have super speed after all.
"You've tried everything for what miss?"
"For him but it doesn't matter." she replied. "He's obviously cheating on me. Leaving at odd hours of the night, not responding to text messages, showing up with bruises he can't explain... It's been eight years! EIGHT FUCKING YEARS and I still know that he keeps secrets from me EVERY DAY! I can't do this anymore. I can't sit at home wondering who he's out with or who he's in bed with. Why would he do this to me just because I can't have a child. I GAVE HIM EVERYTHING AND IT MEANS NOTHING TO HIM!"
Can't have a child? She never told me that before. This was the part that really got to me and my heart was screaming at me "TAKE OFF YOUR MASK YOU IDIOT! SHOW HER WHO YOU ARE! WHAT YOU DO!" My head was telling me otherwise though.
When you get into this line of work the first rule is to protect those you love at all costs and that's the whole reason for the mask in the first place. As much as we loved each other, as much as I wanted to show her what was going on, I knew she would tell her best friend once she found out about my moonlighting. Her best friend would of course tell a couple other people and it would inevitably spread like wildfire from there. My love would be in constant danger at that point. So... I kept my mask on.
We talked for about 15 minutes total. I tried to convince her that it couldn't be that bad. Maybe he was doing something altruistic that she couldn't see. Maybe he was doing something to make everything better for her in the long run. Maybe he was secretly a heroin addict and just couldn't bring himself to tell her. Anything to dissuade her from taking a step to her doom instead of talking to him. To me.
Talking to her, I waited for that moment from the movies. That moment when the person on the ledge decides that the hero is right. They step down, the hero grabs them, the civilian cries and realizes what life has to offer. I've had it happen many times before. That's when the mask would come off. That romantic moment when someone's life is saved and the hero reveals them self for who they really are. If it was going to happen, that was the time.
That time never came. I begged her to come down through an anxiety that was obvious. The type of anxiety that makes you not quite trust what a "professional" is telling you. The kind of anxiety that comes through when your worst fears may come true. The kind of anxiety that paralyzes even a hero.
Then, she took one small step backwards, one giant step in our lives, and fell. I can't fly. She was on the ground before I could get to the ledge.
As I said before, I once thought I could take a lot of punishment. However, physical pain and mental pain are different. Physical pain heals without effort. Mental pain never heals. Not after something like this.
That is why no one in that tower, or the tower itself, will ever be safe. That is why kittens become stranded in trees, bank robberies are committed and the city will always be in danger. The chaos of it all is the only thing that makes me feel anything anymore. The only thing that makes me feel alive in a world after my reason for living is gone.
Try and stop me if you think you can. I welcome death now as someone welcomes sleep. There's nothing left for me here anyway.
Regards,
- Sadimem
| “What’s up?” The cloaked figure fell onto the scaffolding beside me, and the matrix of beams shifted uneasily in response. I steadied myself; it wasn’t time yet. I took a deep breath and let the crisp winter night fill my lungs. There were some things in life that could almost change my mind. But, I wouldn’t falter. I knew what waited for me when I went back home. *If* I went back home. A drunk of a father and a whore of a mother. They always fought and fought. There was no end. How could there be? I failed at school. I couldn’t protect my siblings, and I couldn’t talk sense into my mom. She might cheat, but at least she didn’t hurt me or my brother and sisters. I failed at everything. I just wonder what everyone’ll think. Will I even be missed? Probably not. My brother’ll be better off without a wretch of a sibling. My sisters are too young to even remember me, and my girlfriend can certainly do better.
“How’d you find me?” I stared into the black void of her hood. Only her coal red eyes burned from beyond the fabric; she made not a sound in response. Her presence was response enough. That question was rhetorical anyways.
“I assume you’re here to talk me out of it. Don’t bother it’s been tried already. Don’t think that just because everyone’s heard of you it’ll work. You’re a big hero you know. Why waste your time with me? If you stop me now, I’ll just try and try again. You can’t save everyone you know.” Again the woman did not flinch. Her eyes, however, did flicker and shift uncomfortably.
“What’s your name?”
I laughed. So now she’d talk.
“I’m Noah.” That wasn’t true, but what did she care anyways
.
“Nice to meet you Noah. I’m sure you’ve already heard of me. Mind if I sit here for a while.”
I didn’t respond but it didn’t matter. I stared at the moon, but I wasn’t really looking. I was thinking about my life. They say your life flashes before your eyes on the verge of death, and in a way I was on the verge of death. Death by my own hand.
“Thanks, but I think my time has come to an end.”
“It’s your choice John.”
John? How did she know my name.
She pulled back her hood to reveal the most beautiful and loving woman I’ve ever seen.
“I’ll miss you.”
|
EDIT: Wow! Thanks for all the responses! Never thought this would happen! Keep it up, everyone! | [WP] A teen superhero must talk down their suicidal boyfriend/girlfriend, who does not know their secret identity. | To Whom it May Concern,
It was my "job" for 15 years. Rescuing kittens, foiling bank robberies, saving the city... I never thought I would have to save her.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. Fresh bruises lined my sides and I was pretty sure I had a cracked rib. From my experience, that's always what it was when I had bruises like that. Those were the type of bruises I could handle though. Those were the type of bruises I had become accustomed too. Like boxers or MMA fighters, I could take a lot of punishment. At least... I thought I could.
I woke up and the morning was like any other.I browsed some Reddit on my phone while I sipped coffee and ate whatever she decided to make for breakfast that morning. I can't remember for the life of me what it was. Then, as usual, I was off to work. Of course, she didn't know what the work was. I couldn't tell her. Even without knowing how I moonlighted as a hero, she always worried way too much about me. With everything she had gone through recently, I wanted to be her hero this time. Not the city's hero. Hers.
I woke up and the morning was like any other. We chatted about the usual things but I could tell something was off. Something wasn't quite right about her facial ticks and her physical cues. It was just barely off normal and if I'm being honest, I was hoping she was pregnant. We had been trying for a while and had both gotten to be at about the end of our proverbial ropes after numerous visits to the doctor and experimental remedies but I thought to myself, maybe... just maybe. I kissed her goodbye and headed out into the world to make sure it was a better place for everyone, but mostly for her.
The thing about life is, you never really can know what day is like any other.
I had just busted a ring of child traffickers when I received a text from my handler. "911 Wmn mid 30 top One World could jump any sec."
I was used to texts like this from my handler. They didn't care much for full grammar when lives were on the line and I appreciated that. As cliche as it is, every second counts at that point. I got there as quickly as I could and once I got to the top I realized, it was her.
For a moment, a long moment in a situation like this, I thought about revealing myself. I thought about pulling my mask off and asking her to come home to get some tea with me. I thought about our trip to Orlando and the fun we had at Universal. I thought about the children that we would have and then I realized. If I took my mask off it would put her in magnitudes more danger than she was already in. I just had to get her home and act like I saw it on TV. I just had to talk her down.
"Ma'am," I said in my best superhero voice through lump in my throat, "please, come down from the ledge and talk to me."
"Why?!" she screamed with a full interrobang. "Why should I come down?! I've tried everything I know to try... EVERYTHING!"
At this point I thought back to her ticks. Her nervousness. What the hell was she talking about? I tried to step towards her and she started to step back a bit. I stood like a statue after that. I don't have super speed after all.
"You've tried everything for what miss?"
"For him but it doesn't matter." she replied. "He's obviously cheating on me. Leaving at odd hours of the night, not responding to text messages, showing up with bruises he can't explain... It's been eight years! EIGHT FUCKING YEARS and I still know that he keeps secrets from me EVERY DAY! I can't do this anymore. I can't sit at home wondering who he's out with or who he's in bed with. Why would he do this to me just because I can't have a child. I GAVE HIM EVERYTHING AND IT MEANS NOTHING TO HIM!"
Can't have a child? She never told me that before. This was the part that really got to me and my heart was screaming at me "TAKE OFF YOUR MASK YOU IDIOT! SHOW HER WHO YOU ARE! WHAT YOU DO!" My head was telling me otherwise though.
When you get into this line of work the first rule is to protect those you love at all costs and that's the whole reason for the mask in the first place. As much as we loved each other, as much as I wanted to show her what was going on, I knew she would tell her best friend once she found out about my moonlighting. Her best friend would of course tell a couple other people and it would inevitably spread like wildfire from there. My love would be in constant danger at that point. So... I kept my mask on.
We talked for about 15 minutes total. I tried to convince her that it couldn't be that bad. Maybe he was doing something altruistic that she couldn't see. Maybe he was doing something to make everything better for her in the long run. Maybe he was secretly a heroin addict and just couldn't bring himself to tell her. Anything to dissuade her from taking a step to her doom instead of talking to him. To me.
Talking to her, I waited for that moment from the movies. That moment when the person on the ledge decides that the hero is right. They step down, the hero grabs them, the civilian cries and realizes what life has to offer. I've had it happen many times before. That's when the mask would come off. That romantic moment when someone's life is saved and the hero reveals them self for who they really are. If it was going to happen, that was the time.
That time never came. I begged her to come down through an anxiety that was obvious. The type of anxiety that makes you not quite trust what a "professional" is telling you. The kind of anxiety that comes through when your worst fears may come true. The kind of anxiety that paralyzes even a hero.
Then, she took one small step backwards, one giant step in our lives, and fell. I can't fly. She was on the ground before I could get to the ledge.
As I said before, I once thought I could take a lot of punishment. However, physical pain and mental pain are different. Physical pain heals without effort. Mental pain never heals. Not after something like this.
That is why no one in that tower, or the tower itself, will ever be safe. That is why kittens become stranded in trees, bank robberies are committed and the city will always be in danger. The chaos of it all is the only thing that makes me feel anything anymore. The only thing that makes me feel alive in a world after my reason for living is gone.
Try and stop me if you think you can. I welcome death now as someone welcomes sleep. There's nothing left for me here anyway.
Regards,
- Sadimem
| Joel raced up the staircases of the block’s fire escape. If anyone were to be watching, all they would see would be a blur of motion. Only a handful of frames on the CCTV footage would document Incrediboy’s. The young hero’s heart raced, though not from physical exertion. Reaching the top floor, he burst through the fire door.
A figure precariously balanced on a parapet built along the edge of the roof. Incrediboy was almost halfway to her before she looked back in reaction to the racket.
“Keep back!” a familiar voice choked through tears. Her blonde hair swished in the night breeze. A sniffle came from her shadowed face.
“Abigail?! Come down please,” Joel struggled to maintain his hero tone. “Your friends are worried about you.” With this revelation went his plan. He chastised himself for speaking without thought.
“How do you know my name?” she glanced behind. Taking a look at where the sound of traffic and sirens came from before snapping her gaze back. “Stay. Away.”
“Okay, okay.” Joel stopped moving, keeping a good 15 feet away from her. He held his hands out in front.
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“I-I want to help you.”
“How can you help me?”
“By telling you people are here for you.”
“Oh great. ‘People are here for you,’” she mocked Incrediboy’s voice. “A freak stranger in a mask is here for me!”
“No! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“You didn’t mean to upset me? Then leave, just like everyone else does. Just like Joel does. ‘Oh something’s come up babe.’” She laughed to herself through the tears. “Or, or ‘Dr. Alacrity needs me at the lab.’ Of course he’s more important than me, just like Dad’s work is more important.”
“I’m sure their work must be important if it takes them away.” He couldn’t remember mentioning the Dr. by name.
“How would you know?”
“In my life, doing what I do.” Joel gestured to his costume. “Sometimes things come up which require my presence, it’s hard to explain without saying who I am. What I am.”
“That’s stupid! You’re.” The voice was less strained, instead an angrier tone prevailed. “You’re whatever you are. A hero, or so people say. But Joel? He’s probably off with another girl. My father out drinking to forget his failures. To forget about me!”
“You know that’s not the case. Dr. Alacrity is attempting great things. He’s already helped Joel get out of his wheelchair.”
“And the first thing he uses his legs for is to get away from me.”
“No he…”
“So you know Joel then? That’s how you know my name!”
Joel’s thoughts raced. He couldn’t reveal himself to her. Not after the last time he’d let someone know who he was. The Night Queen, Toxin, and a handful of others would love to get their hands on Incrediboy’s girlfriend. On top of that the city's gangs would be in line to get back at him too.
“I-” he struggled to come up with a plausible lie.
“So he sends his super-friend instead of coming himself too?”
Joel cursed to himself and pulled at the mask. This was a bad idea, but what other choice did he have? He tugged away the disguise and began to approach the ledge. “It’s me! Come down, we need to talk.”
“Joel? You’re him?!”
Joel nodded and walked towards her, taking care to use his basic metabolism. He didn’t want to shock her with any sudden movements. After what seemed like an eternity of standard footsteps he was able to pull her into his embrace. His heart thudded against hers as he lead her down of the ledge, but her skin was cold. Not the cold from standing up on the ledge of a thirty-story building. She was cold to the core, draining the warmth out of him.
“Abi?” his voice wavered as the strength was ushered out of him.
“Joel my love,” the voice came from Abigail but was not her own. It was sinister, piercing like a nail on glass.
He managed to pull away slightly to see her. Abigail’s faced melted away, merging into new features. Her skin colour changed to a dusty purple, blue veins showed through.
“You?” His voice was barely a whisper now. It took all of him just to utter the single word. “Why?”
“I like to have a little fun with my pray. Without a game there is no joy in the kill, and you were such a great sport.”
|
[WP] Everyone's eye color changes to reflect their mood. However, yours are always an icy blue. | Dark green eyes. Boredom, and a lot of it.
"Please swipe." His eyes flash white for a second before settling on a lighter green. I avert my own eyes to avoid the sudden interest. "Thank you, come again."
Some girl walks by with eyes a beautiful gold. Haven't seen that in a long time. Probably going to be celebrating something later. A flash of white, and I turn away.
Grey eyes. Man in raggedy clothes, sitting on the curb. "Money for the homeless?" A flash of white. I walk by without a word.
A couple, young. Eyes glowing pink. A sideways glance, and it flickers white. I close my eyes and yawn.
A man hunched over my car door. Jumps back with a curse, eyes glowing red in the dark of the parking lot as he draws a knife. I meet his eyes and stay that way. A flash of white, an expression of sudden uncertainty, and the red fades to yellow. I approach my car, he backs off. I open the car door and get inside, eye to eye all the while. He remains completely motionless as I drive off.
...It's the little things.
Not like it's actually my fault, either. People with my eyes are rare. You don't want to see them. Murderers who feel guilt, even a little, have black eyes. The insane ones flash erratically. Those who are truly desperate have a particularly neon purple.
The people with my type of eyes are worse. They're the people who're able to hide that stuff and more. And not even they have it turned on literally all the time.
Not that I've actually done anything. Like I said, it's not my fault.
Blame the family for that.
I don't deserve the attention, either. If every flash of white was a coin I had, I'd be rich. A piece of gold for every scared yellow stare would devalue the stuff. I got put on watch by law enforcement for a while, but twenty years of criminal inactivity and the police don't do anything for the people who call in to report the ice-eyed person.
Therapists have come and gone. I've marked the stages they go through. They start out wary, because who would want to share a room with a guy who could supposedly kill without flinching? Before long, they're confused, because again, "supposedly" doesn't apply to me, because I haven't killed anybody, and I don't want to. Then they get concerned when nothing they try gets a reaction out of me. The colors flatten out when nothing happens for months on end and all their expectations of bad behaviour remain unfulfilled. Sometimes they get sad at how ineffective they've been, but then they go, and really, they shouldn't be sad anyway.
I don't think I'm insane. I smile. I laugh. I cry too, though it's never as hard as other people seem to think I should. I even have a sense of humor. But everything... washes off. It doesn't stick. My eyes haven't changed color since I was five.
School was an experiment in the type of social maneuvering that keeps your bones unbroken and your skin intact. My solution was apparently unorthodox. Resetting your own bones in front of the people who broke them while looking bored is still a solution, though, even if it does take time to heal. Besides, it only happened twice before I got my reputation.
Like I said, it's the little things.
The job is weird, too. Hard to land work that requires an interview without college credentials, but high-end bars apparently like their bouncers intimidating, so I learned some martial arts and got gun training. That one required a lot of background checks.
There was this one man at the bar I work at last night. Some type of researcher. Got me time off for drinks with him in exchange for an interview, but I don't drink, so I had water. First person who's been proactive about talking to me, I think. Has some nice, silvery eyes. The type that reflect the light at you, that tell you just how determined a person is to excel. Lots of pale purple, too; he must have really had an interest in our conversation.
Most of what he said was retreading old ground, questions I'd been asked hundreds of times. But right at the end, when he was somewhat the worse for alcohol and getting ready to leave, he asked me a question that I hadn't ever heard before.
I'd repeated my opinion on death to him. Expressing my desire not to kill, my lack of other people's motives for murder, had been enough for everybody else, but not him.
He'd asked me what made me want to live. What kept me from killing myself.
What a strange question. Completely unprofessional, of course; trigger avoidance is a cliche, but the therapists still followed it. I told him about the question being new to me, of course, but then he asked me if I could email him with my reply to the question when I had one.
The strangest part about the question is that I still don't have an answer.
Money is only a motivation in the weakest sense. At one end, you need money above a certain amount if you want to live, but at the other end, vast wealth doesn't satisfy you - as the saying goes, money can't buy happiness. I thought about power - my 'social skills' are certainly a type of power that I use rather often - but that doesn't really apply either. My eyes would prevent me from obtaining any sort of public office, and even management jobs at the bar would estrange those under me, so why try? My sense of humor would have me suggest love, but honestly, such a joke would be in bad taste. Even without my... particular past, my eyes neatly preclude such a happenstance. I am disturbing on a visceral level; the human lizardbrain is scared of me. There's even a media trope about the ice-blue evil eye.
I googled some more things that might work. Pride, a challenge, outside expectations... nothing resonated. By all accounts, I have no motivations... but the researcher was right. People need to have something to live for.
I've finished driving home by now. I finish using the toilet, and wash my hands. Afterwards, I place them on either side of the sink and lean forward. I look myself in the mirror, meeting the remorseless, inhospitable, and deadly ice-blue eyes of a person who has simply not been affected by things that no one should want to undergo.
And I watch. | I was angry. VERY angry, and very scared... but nobody could tell.
If you told me when I was a child that the one and only interesting thing about me would eventually lead me to this place I would have done things much differently. MUCH differently. If only I knew what being different meant. If only I had shut my mouth and acted my state.
States. That's what they called them. If you looked anyone in the eyes you could see right away what 'state' they were in. Happy, sad, angry, bored it was all there just waiting to be seen. Most people's states were very similar like red for anger, yellow for happy, green for envious that sort of thing and even though the shades would change for each person it was pretty much the same. Some people were 'cool' and had interesting colors like orange and pink but they generally always meant the same thing and it was always easy to read.
Not mine though. For as long as I could remember mine were always icy blue. I could be angry or sad or whatever and they would never change. At first I was picked on because of it but I decided to own it later in my childhood and it was my 'thing'. The thing that set me apart and structured my personality. I loved that I was different and it made me seem 'cool'. Plus nobody bothered me.
"Scalpel" the doctor said calm and methodically. I could see through the thick spectacles that his eyes were a icy blue like my own and not for the first time that color scared the shit out of me. I had acted it for years and to see it in someone else made me realize things I hadn't before considered.
You see people like to lie. Politicians like to cheat the system and thieves like to trick the ignorant. Much was to gain from pretending you had eyes different than your own and so it was common to find tech that helped with that. Contact lenses that emulated a different emotion or even the latest Apple EyEware that allowed the user to select from 3 common emotions. But people could tell that you were using a device if they looked close enough and even though technology was good it wasn't THAT good. There is something about the human eye that humans got VERY good at discerning.
And so here I was. Under the operating table. Against my will. Again.
"Nurse keep those straps tight. We don't need him escaping like the last time. Damn near took out 2 of my staff and I have no idea how he got past the guards"
"Right away Dr. Maesh" I could hear her chime as she walked to the side of the table and tightened my bonds. I could see her eyes hinted at the slightest shade of purple and I knew she was just slightly afraid. Afraid of me or afraid of the Dr. I could not tell. Some repressed part of me considered the idea that even though she knew I was a special case she was afraid of anyone who could stay calm and methodical with icy blue eyes whilst pinned down naked to a gurney against their will. I didn't blame her.
It took them till I was 17 to realize I was special and by then there were people in high places who would be willing to pay just about anything and do just about anything to learn my secret. You know, the kind of people who when you imagine them don't have faces just silhouettes with dark red glaring stares. It took them only 6 months to find me after my first escape and two whole years after that to find me again. And here I was.
Dr. Maesh cleared his throat and drew the scalpel closer to my face. I panicked. Bad.
I started fighting with the straps holding my arms to the table and strained against the strap across my neck. I was able to life my head up just enough to look into the eyes of the nurse standing by and noticed her eyes were a deeper shade of purple now. Dr. Maesh withdrew the scalpel and nodded silently to one of the security guards who proceeded to inject me in the arm with something orange. I blacked out.
When I woke up I had bandages wrapped around my head and covering my eyes. The first thing I tried to do was blink even though I couldn't see anything yet and found it impossible to do with the bandages on. It felt like they covered my eyes up with bandages while my eyelids were still open. I heard the nurse alert the Dr. that I had awaken and heard him approach.
"Well well Mr. Tidder it looks like the operation was a great success. Now of course it'll take awhile for the results to come back and our friends at the lab sure like to take their time with things but I very much so think this will end up positively for all of us. Well" he corrected himself "MOST of us at least".
They bound and wheeled me out of the laboratory and sat me in a car. The driver silently drove for quite a while until suddenly they stopped and pulled me out of the vehicle. Nothing was said to me and I knew better than to ask.
It was raining when they finally cut my wrist and leg straps and being blind I didn't feel the compulsion to fight back. They drove off shortly after.
I felt the bandages around my head and decided I needed to unwrap them so that I could see. I had no idea what they did to me but as I unwrapped and unwrapped it came as a slow and terrifying realization.
That was 10 years ago and I still struggle with the realization that my life will never be the same. Sometimes when someone has a television on I can hear the political debates or infomercials and I cringe whenever someone makes a comment as to how sincere a candidate is or how much the salesman really must love his product because the truth is in the eyes and would you look at that no Apple EyEware.
If people could see through my dark sunglasses and if they could read the color that isn't any longer there and if I had eyes that worked like they should they would see a pair of icy blues staring right back at them. | |
[WP] Everyone's eye color changes to reflect their mood. However, yours are always an icy blue. | No one trusted Kelly Post. She'd never done anything to break their trust. In truth, no one had ever been inclined to give her the chance.
"I just...*can't*," Jared Robbie had once said on an autumn night in a quiet New England town, in a gas station parking lot where proud townie kids sat on the hood of borrowed cars and slipped their hands past the waistband of whatever boy or girl was sitting next to them. "I'll always be wondering."
And Kelly had flinched at that, out of rage more than shock. "Why not just listen to what I'm telling you then, huh? Because I'll *tell* you what I'm feeling. I'll *tell* you whatever the hell you want to know!"
A girl on the hood of a lime green Honda Civic had sniggered at that, whispering to the boy at her hip what a mutant fruit Kelly Post was. Since then Kelly had known better than to cry about it, or yell about it, or feel much of anything about it.
*What difference did it ever make when all we ever did was sit in the dark fingering each other's underwear? Who's looking at eyes? Who needs any clues more than what's at the tip of their finger and the edge of their lips?*
Kelly's eyes were blue. Ice blue. Always blue.
"What's the matter?" strange men sometimes still said to her, before they found out the color never changed. "Why you so blue, darlin'?"
And Kelly would smile back, staring into their boiling, orange eyes, glazed all over in lust and stupidity, and say, "World's just a sad place, isn't it?"
They'd buy her a drink. If she was bored sometimes she'd let them work their charm - always in the form of obvious compliments and banal platitudes about life and love and other nonsense. She told herself it was a charity of a sort. The way their eyes darkened, building towards a reddish sunset, said she wasn't wrong. It was a game to them. A game they all thought they were winning, right until they lost.
"Still sad," she'd smile, hopping down off the stool. "Off to bed."
Sometimes men would follow her, but never for long. Sadness is a stain, after all - a thing to scrub out - and when it won't come out, well, time to throw away the shirt, right?
It hurt her personally. It hurt her professionally.
Kelly, The Sad Girl. Always, always.
Medically there was no reason. No cause. Anti-depressants did little more than make Kelly tired and incapable of orgasm. Yoga was garbage. Meditation a waste of time.
The color meant nothing. As much as Kelly beat that drum, no one quite believed it. It meant something for everyone else. It meant something for Kelly. Obviously.
She assumed it had always been that way - that her eyes been permanently blue from the moment she was born - but there was a gap there. She'd been abandoned as a child, left as a ward of the state, until the Post family had claimed her at age five. She had little to no recollection of anything before she became a Post, but the ice blue eyes - those *must* have played a role.
*Maybe she thought I was damaged?* Kelly thought. *Maybe that's why she abandoned me?* But it was just an idle thought, nothing more.
That is, until a man came to visit her. A man claiming to be her father.
"Is it hard?" he asked, sitting on her couch, shaking hands pressed tight between his legs. "The...*color*? Has it made it hard?"
His eyes were a wild swirl of red, yellow, gold, and white, though she didn't need his eyes to tell her the man was an emotional wreck.
"Yes," she said, unwilling to elaborate.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, blinking, eyes constantly shifting towards the ground.
"Can you look me in the eyes?" she said, stern and cold.
He tried, the frantic ocular rainbow exploding into a twisting nebula of primary colors. He looked away again.
"I came 'cause I wanted to talk to you," he said. "I wanted to explain."
"Fine," I said. "Explain away. Just keep in mind, I don't know who you are, no matter what you claim."
"Right." He nodded, clearing his throat. "There's no good way to say it, really. Your mom...she died."
Kelly felt a strange pinch at her throat, but shook it off. "You don't say."
"Not recent," said the man, eyes still on the floor. "No. She...she died a long, long while ago. She died when you were..."
"What?" barked Kelly. "A homeless little girl? An infant?"
"When you were still inside her," said the man quietly.
"What?" said Kelly, softer.
"We..." The man shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Just...she died and you were in there and I...went in and got you."
Now Kelly shook her head. "I don't understand...."
"I..." The man's mouth flapped soundlessly for a moment. "I cut her open and took you out."
"That's. No. No. Why wouldn't you have gone to the hospital? Why was she dead? What the hell are you talking about?"
"I had to do it," said the man. "There wasn't any time. And she...before she passed, she made me promise. And I..." A thin stream of tears ran across the outer ridge of the man's cheekbones. "I didn't know what else to do."
Kelly stood up, much too fast and too suddenly, causing her swoon backwards against the chair. "Why are you...why are you telling me this? What the hell do you want?"
"Nothing," said the man. "Nothing. I've just....ever since that night my eyes have been...it's like there's too much inside me. There's *been* too much inside ever since she died. Too much of everything. And you...you came out blue...and you stayed that way. And I wonder if maybe it's because of what happened. Now I've got too much and you've got too little. Like, you being alive in someone who isn't...maybe it..." He put his hands to his head. "I just thought there was something to that. Because I can't handle it anymore. It's too much. God, it's just so damn *much*."
Kelly clenched her fists. "Listen...I don't know if you're who you say you are, but either way, what the holy *fuck* did you ever expect I was gonna do for you?"
The man got to his feet. Somewhere along the way, in some flailing of the arms, he had picked up a knife.
"I thought a trade," he said, stepping forward. "One of mine for one of yours. Even things up, you see? That way we'd both get back a little of what we lost."
Kelly screamed as the man lunged. And somewhere, in some quiet, dark corner of her mind, she wondered what color her eyes would look like just then, if they worked the way they were supposed to. | "For the last time, it's steel- my eyes are *steely* blue, not *icy* blue. God damn."
"I don't believe you," Elicia firmly stated. Her eyes were a blazing red, at this point- be it in anger or determination. Nobody could really tell what every color meant at any given time, unfortunately. "You're just putting on a really good act, aren't you?"
"How many times are you going to ask that before you get bored and stop?" Colton asked, deadpan but still sounding just a bit annoyed. As always, his eyes remained their icy- or rather, steely- blue.
"As many times as I need to before you finally break," Elicia replied, crossing her arms. She'd be a beauty by many men's standards, if she scowled and insulted people less often.
"Fine, you got me. Colored contacts," Colton responded, drably and lazily. "I didn't want everyone else's eyes, so I bought them and use them instead of my glasses."
"Bullshit. Take them out," Elicia said, slapping one of her hands down onto the table. Her eyes shone with a light few exhibited during a day's common events, due entirely to her fixation on Colton's stunted eyes.
"You'd be a lot cuter if you didn't swear, Eli," Colton muttered. He barely reacted to her sudden slamming of the table, as if all too used to it. "Just drop it. I've literally been telling you the truth, ever since we first met. My eyes just don't change color."
"I can't accept that," Elicia said, crossing her arms once more. In all the time she'd known the man, she'd never once seen his eyes change color. She thought that there must be some trick to it, some manner of suppressing his emotions or whatever chemical processes activated to cause the average human's eyes to change color. "If you'd just tell me-!"
Colton suddenly stood, reaching out to put a hand on Elicia's shoulder. "My eyes. Do not. Change color," he said, clearly enunciating every syllable very strongly. If his eyes were not always steely-blue, perhaps they would have turned that way in that moment. "It's a birth defect, or some shit. I really don't care, because it doesn't affect my life in any way." After a pause, he asked, "Are we done? Because our lunch break is almost over."
Elicia's eyes turned a softer red, then a pink, and then finally a deeper blue. She bashfully looked aside, pouting as she said, "We're done."
"Good," Colton replied, stepping away from her. "You're on cash today, right? I've gotta stock shelves..."
The two of them conversationally talked about their work duties as they left the break room, momentarily (and one could be sure that it would only be a *momentary* lull) dropping their talks of Colton's strangely unchanging eyes. They were not children, after all- they were adults, with responsibilities. As many as jobs at a grocery store could have, that is.
---
Finally, a prompt that even a flu-stricken me was interested in doing.
If you like what you see and want to read more various ~~shit~~ stuff, check out [my sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/Probroscis/). | |
[WP] You're God, but you must live through every life that's ever happened before you can be "all knowing". You've just died for the last time. | "Is that all?" I wondered aloud. I drifted in the void, omnipotent, omnipresent and omni-depressed. For a few minutes I gave serious consideration to destroying the entire universe and starting again. It was only a few minutes. And I didn't just then. But I really, really thought I might.
My existence began well enough. The first life I lived through was pretty simple. When that spark (the soul? Spirit? I never could decide what to call it.) of self awareness first flickered in the first mind that evolution had adapted to higher thinking it was in a primitive and rather crude homonid. All he thought about was food, sleep and sex. I suppose to some degree that was there in every life I lived but in that first life it was nearly everything. I discovered myself, attached but not the same as the mind I was attached to. Back then, I didn't know anything either. When he died, I thought that was my end.
Until I found myself in the next life. Then the next. Each time they died, I did, yet I was alive still. My mind was tied to them all. So many were being born that I sometimes felt stretched between them all. None of them could hear me then. I was, I think, as primitive and simple minded as they. Still, they kept being born and somehow, not understood by me then, I was part of all of them. Every life lived was independent and individual yet somehow I was in all of them. My conciousness reached out and encompassed their own. Same, yet separate.
As they evolved, so did I. As they grew in numbers, I grew in understanding and knowledge. I know everything every single one of them ever knew and still do. They died, faded away, yet I grew.
For a time I flirted with them. I found a way to communicate. It was primitive at first but in time I was able to speak mind to mind, as it were. Some of them started calling me god. As good a name as any, I decided. When I got bored I told one bunch that the other bunch's idea of god was wrong and started a religious war. After a few times, that got boring but the wars never did stop. A few of them were ambitious liars and pretended I was telling them what to do. Some used it for violence, some for profit. No matter. In time, they died and I still grew.
Millennia passed. I had lived every life and knew everything that every life I lived knew. I found that with a little effort I could expand myself beyond their lives. This allowed me to stretch out into the universe beyond the limitations of their world. Yet, still, I was tied to them. Every life lived, I was living it. In time, it was almost an afterthought. There were so many for so long I had to focus very hard to hear just one voice.
Then it slowed down. I realized that the lives were fewer. I wasn't dying every micro-second now. It wasn't like a reversal of when I became aware, where my limits were their limits. I didn't decrease in understanding or knowledge. Some time in the process I had become greater than the sum of my parts. I exceeded the limitations of any lives that still held me to their cycle of life and death.
They had destroyed themselves. Their industries had changed their world so greatly it was no longer fit for their kind of life. I could have fixed that. I had developed power over the aeons to directly manipulate matter. Even time and space were mine to control. Yet, I was curious. What happens when the last life dies and I with it? Will the one who is me still exist? Do I exist, outside of the lives that birthed me, sustained me and moulded me?
Then the last one died. The last life I was tied to and the last death I would endure. Like a small candle, they flickered out with barely a trace of smoke to tell. Gone. I died, or part of me did, with that last life but yet I still was.
At first I exulted in my freedom from them. Then I got curious and set out to discover the universe. Then I got bored. You cannot understand what it is like when you have been everywhere, seen everything, know everything. What is there to interest you? You already know it and recall every pico-second with one hundred percent clarity. I could relive everything I had done, every moment of time I had spent as if I were there, then. Do that a few times and discover there are no more surprises. No more new adventures. No more new anything, really. Been there. Done that.
"Is that all?" I considered my options. Only one. No, that's not fair. I could have continued to exist as I was and rule an empty universe, devoid of anything that would make it interesting. I thought long and hard, considered all the futures that my choices could create and, in the end, I decided. One option.
So I gathered together the entirety of the cosmos into a small area. My power was unlimited, my strength unimpaired by restraint. I destroyed what was in a fraction of second then, throwing my power into the energy and matter, the space and time that I had collected, forced it to burst outward in all directions. I set laws upon it, rules that would, in time, force trillions of planets into existence. I set evolution into motion that would create not just one kind of life, as I had known life, but billions, even trillions of different kinds of intelligent life.
It would take time but I had learned that the only really non-boring thing I could do was interact with lives. To live, perhaps die, with life was interesting. To learn what they learned, see the universe anew through their eyes was the only worthwhile thing I could do.
I laughed to myself and, as I watched the universe be born in a blaze of a huge explosion, said whimsically, "Let there be light."
| The countless atoms were swirling around the universal catalyst, each atom knowing their place and importance in creating the universe. This work was tireless, but creating universes takes a lot of patience. Every eon or so I would think back to my final mortal life, to the feelings of loneliness and longing I felt as it ended.
I survived the worst of the war and felt like it would've been better had I just died with everybody else on the surface. My last life was lived as an important politician who was able to escape to an underground shelter as a horrific nuclear war raged on the surface of the planet. Only myself and a small support staff managed to make it to the shelter and lived for several years in the claustrophobic maze of carved out tunnels, crates full of supplies, and games.
Life in the shelter was tedious and everybody tried to distract themselves from the thoughts of guilt and boredom that dominated as time slowly dragged on. I used to play billiards when I attended university and was happy to find a billiards table to entertain myself. My entertainment turned to obsession as the weeks turned into months. I plotted and practiced to play the perfect game. I had it in my head that I will be able to one day break and have every single ball fall into every pocket. And I very nearly pulled it off.
Some of the staff were unable to cope with thinking about all the dead loved ones and how we wouldn't be able to survive until the surface was habitable again. I don't know who shot first but by the time I reached them, everybody was dead. The shock of seeing their lifeless bodies caused me to retch uncontrollably. I eventually mustered enough will to pull all their bodies into emptied crates and slid the crates into a back room to never be seen again.
The lights began to fade out as the shelter's power source malfunctioned one day and I found myself in the dark half the time. I couldn't use the billiards table since I kept scratching the table in the dark and became frustrated and angered. I lashed out at the darkness, hitting the table and breaking small furniture. The power failure also caused the refrigerated food stock to spoil and the water system started to break down.
I floated in the darkness and thought about the pool table. I got to thinking about how I could've played the perfect, one-shot game and how I almost pulled it off. It's funny how I have a second chance to play that game. I haven't laughed in a long time and I gestured for the last of the atoms to the perfect spots in the vast emptiness, ready for the universal catalyst to begin a new universe.
I'm sure this time things will go perfectly. | |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | A man walked into a bar.
My bar.
I've been making a living off of this place, but not for the way you'd actually expect me to...
The drinks? All those profits are sent to my daughters college tuition and charity. But the bar?
Yeah, the literal bar?
Thats what we're known for.
Every day, men and women from around the city- maybe state- hell, maybe even the entire country, visit "The Bar" to see what the hell is halapalooga in this damn place.
So, back to that man...
Yeah. He's knocked out cold. So we take his wallet but send him home in a cab that WE pay for, because we're nice.
It's really getting out of hand but, its easy to make a living out of. They just have to walk into the bar anyway. | Years I've been working at this damn joint now. Why? Hell if I know. I think I used to, but that was a long time ago. Probably forgot sometime between the 380th and 452nd time that stupid horse came in here.
I've seen it all. People from every nationality, holy men from every religion... Pavlov every now and then. Always leaves every time the damn door opens without paying for his drinks. I really oughta get rid of the ringer, see what he does then.
Today we're fairly empty, which I'm thankful for. I still get paid, and I don't have to deal with those idiots who always run right into a metal pole for the thousandth time. Turns out the human body can take a lot more concussions than one would think. I'd ask one of my regular doctors about it, but he's not here today. The only two patrons are some nerdy lookin' guys in one corner, wearing white lab coats and glasses. Chemists, judging by their conversation. All things considered, nothing too bad. Better than that damn horse at any rate.
One of them chuckles a bit at what his companion just said, and what appears to be a cloud of subatomic particles enters the bar. The man finishes laughing and responds, "All right, that was pretty good, but listen to *this* one. So, a gun-type fission weapon walks into a bar..."
*Wait*, I think. *Wait wait wait wait wait.* Unfortunately, I've heard this one before, and I'm not a huge fan of the punch line. I open my mouth to interrupt the man, but before I can make a sound that damned bell rings.
*Shit*. | |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | "Hey, buddy! Our sign clearly says, 'No Horses Allowed,' And don't give me that long face, mister!"
Jacob scowled at the Clydesdale as it cantered out, neighing indignantly. He sighed heavily, turning to the sole remaining patron of his bar. "I don't get it, Sam. Why do these jokers keep turning up here?"
The grizzled lush looked up from his beer. "Whole neighborhood has gone to Hell, it has," he drawled. "Back when I was growing up, these roustabouts stayed on their own side. Pfft! Gone to Hell, it has."
"A beacon of wisdom as always, Sam. Are you going to have another or..."
The door creaked open and a heavyset man in full orthodox Jewish regalia stepped in. Jacob leered suspiciously, opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. A priest in Catholic mass garments entered beside him, followed by a Muslim with a full white robe and thobe.
"Ah, fuck," Jacob spat. "No religious trios, guys! It says so right outside, underneath the horse sign!"
The Jew huffed, the priest bowed and the Muslim flipped him off, but they left without incident.
"Ay, why don't you just serve the damn fools?" Sam asked. "They're stealin' all our jobs anyway. May as well get a bit 'o the coin back, yeah?"
"Too much of a liability," Jacob replied. "Had a Panda come in about a month ago. Pulls out a gun and kills half of my regulars before hightailing it out. Looked up the fucker on Wikipedia; it was a Chinese Panda who eats shoots and leaves."
"Ah, damn shame," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Half of them aren't even good for the drinks, anyway. After the Panda and before I began enforcing the ban, I was getting a ton of Bohemians. Had to bounce half of those Czechs out."
Sam nodded. "I tell ya, mate, these characters..."
A tall, well-built man with chestnut hair, an olive complexion, and a thick overcoat walked in, surveying the scene with a quick glance. Jacob eyed him as the approached the bar.
"Evening, sir," Jacob said cautiously, alert for any impropriety. "Get ya something to drink?"
"Evening," the man said, nodding slightly and settling himself on a stool. "I'll just have a beer, please."
Jacob smiled, a visible relief washing over his face. He poured a pint of his best ale and handed it over. "This one's on the house, friend," he said. "Just glad to have another normal bloke around these parts."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see this place so empty on a Friday night. It's a lovely establishment."
"Ah yes. Well, we've had some troublesome clientele lately and...say, what do you have there?"
The man had pulled a large chunk of asphalt from under his coat, placing it on the counter. "Oh, I was just wondering if I could get another beer. For the road." | Years I've been working at this damn joint now. Why? Hell if I know. I think I used to, but that was a long time ago. Probably forgot sometime between the 380th and 452nd time that stupid horse came in here.
I've seen it all. People from every nationality, holy men from every religion... Pavlov every now and then. Always leaves every time the damn door opens without paying for his drinks. I really oughta get rid of the ringer, see what he does then.
Today we're fairly empty, which I'm thankful for. I still get paid, and I don't have to deal with those idiots who always run right into a metal pole for the thousandth time. Turns out the human body can take a lot more concussions than one would think. I'd ask one of my regular doctors about it, but he's not here today. The only two patrons are some nerdy lookin' guys in one corner, wearing white lab coats and glasses. Chemists, judging by their conversation. All things considered, nothing too bad. Better than that damn horse at any rate.
One of them chuckles a bit at what his companion just said, and what appears to be a cloud of subatomic particles enters the bar. The man finishes laughing and responds, "All right, that was pretty good, but listen to *this* one. So, a gun-type fission weapon walks into a bar..."
*Wait*, I think. *Wait wait wait wait wait.* Unfortunately, I've heard this one before, and I'm not a huge fan of the punch line. I open my mouth to interrupt the man, but before I can make a sound that damned bell rings.
*Shit*. | |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | So you really want to buy Chuckles, huh kid? Well I suppose it's only fair to warn you, this place is a bit... funny. What's that? Strange or ha-ha? You have *no* idea...
Okay, a few quick things you gotta know. First of all, group discounts. Use 'em, liberally and often. You'll get all sorts in this place, in all manner of groupings, so do what you can to keep 'em happy.
All animals are welcome, talking or otherwise. Well, all except that duck, you'll find his picture behind the bar. On a completely unrelated note, we DO NOT serve grapes. Oh, and I've learned it's best not to comment on their personal appearance. Or mood. Or both- you know what, just serve them their drinks, you'll be much better off.
There's a shotgun under the bar, but you should only need that on riddle nights...
Ya know, other than that I think you should be fine. Just talk to everyone who comes up, and they tend to take care of the rest. You'll do great kid. Here's the keys.
Oh, one last thing. I decided to try something new one night and set up a fruit juice station over in the corner there. You know, a serve-yourself chasers sorta thing. Everyone loved it... But the punch line got too long! Ha! That's one of mine, on the house! Now, if you'll excuse me, this man's walkin' *out* of a bar!
**OUCH!**
Hey kid? Do me a favor and get that step fixed... | 'Oh for fucks sake, not again!' The elderly man behind the slick, wooden bar sighed in exhasperation. Another pair of twits has 'walked into the bar' again. That makes the fourth today and its only ten o'clock in morning! The bar is extraordinarily clean as the elderly man has spent many years tending to it with a well oiled cloth. The tables and chairs are arranged neatly, napkins and cutlery placed with obvious care. Wooden floorboards were stain and spill free, surprising with the amount of Jokesters who think they're funny.
Suddenly the door screaches on un-oiled hinges and a horse walk in.
Not again | |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | "Hey, buddy! Our sign clearly says, 'No Horses Allowed,' And don't give me that long face, mister!"
Jacob scowled at the Clydesdale as it cantered out, neighing indignantly. He sighed heavily, turning to the sole remaining patron of his bar. "I don't get it, Sam. Why do these jokers keep turning up here?"
The grizzled lush looked up from his beer. "Whole neighborhood has gone to Hell, it has," he drawled. "Back when I was growing up, these roustabouts stayed on their own side. Pfft! Gone to Hell, it has."
"A beacon of wisdom as always, Sam. Are you going to have another or..."
The door creaked open and a heavyset man in full orthodox Jewish regalia stepped in. Jacob leered suspiciously, opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. A priest in Catholic mass garments entered beside him, followed by a Muslim with a full white robe and thobe.
"Ah, fuck," Jacob spat. "No religious trios, guys! It says so right outside, underneath the horse sign!"
The Jew huffed, the priest bowed and the Muslim flipped him off, but they left without incident.
"Ay, why don't you just serve the damn fools?" Sam asked. "They're stealin' all our jobs anyway. May as well get a bit 'o the coin back, yeah?"
"Too much of a liability," Jacob replied. "Had a Panda come in about a month ago. Pulls out a gun and kills half of my regulars before hightailing it out. Looked up the fucker on Wikipedia; it was a Chinese Panda who eats shoots and leaves."
"Ah, damn shame," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Half of them aren't even good for the drinks, anyway. After the Panda and before I began enforcing the ban, I was getting a ton of Bohemians. Had to bounce half of those Czechs out."
Sam nodded. "I tell ya, mate, these characters..."
A tall, well-built man with chestnut hair, an olive complexion, and a thick overcoat walked in, surveying the scene with a quick glance. Jacob eyed him as the approached the bar.
"Evening, sir," Jacob said cautiously, alert for any impropriety. "Get ya something to drink?"
"Evening," the man said, nodding slightly and settling himself on a stool. "I'll just have a beer, please."
Jacob smiled, a visible relief washing over his face. He poured a pint of his best ale and handed it over. "This one's on the house, friend," he said. "Just glad to have another normal bloke around these parts."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see this place so empty on a Friday night. It's a lovely establishment."
"Ah yes. Well, we've had some troublesome clientele lately and...say, what do you have there?"
The man had pulled a large chunk of asphalt from under his coat, placing it on the counter. "Oh, I was just wondering if I could get another beer. For the road." | 'Oh for fucks sake, not again!' The elderly man behind the slick, wooden bar sighed in exhasperation. Another pair of twits has 'walked into the bar' again. That makes the fourth today and its only ten o'clock in morning! The bar is extraordinarily clean as the elderly man has spent many years tending to it with a well oiled cloth. The tables and chairs are arranged neatly, napkins and cutlery placed with obvious care. Wooden floorboards were stain and spill free, surprising with the amount of Jokesters who think they're funny.
Suddenly the door screaches on un-oiled hinges and a horse walk in.
Not again | |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | Another clang is heard, as someone ONCE AGAIN walks into the bar, set low near the door. It's at a legal height, thought.
I know it's at a legal height. Because this is my bar. I've worked here for years. And I'm telling you, this place is haunted. And that bar? I've seen about ten people walk into it, this week so far alone. The depressing part is it's only Tuesday.
Anyway, the bar. The height. It'll go the same way it always go.
The man will look at what's he just hit. He does.
He'll look around, for a moment. He does.
He'll say the obvious thing they all say.
"Ouch."
And then he'll say the idiotic thing they all say.
"Why the **** is there a bar here?"
I sigh again, as I continue to clean a glass. I tilt my head to the side of the man. He looks down, and reads the warning label.
'Low Bar. Mind Step.'
Same every time. So many times, that I have had to deal with a court case at least once a month.
Some of them, I'll put my hands up, and say were my fault. Sometimes I've been watching too much of a show like South Park, or browsing /R/4Chan, of both at the same time, and I'll just say the most stupid thing I can.
'We don't serve your kind around here' to so many different species. Only the Noble Gases didn't react to that one.
The time I asked the horse why he had a long face? I didn't even mean to be funny, much less racist. He just honestly looked sad.
All that is just the tip of the iceberg. So many surreal things happen at this place, I honestly feel like my whole life is just one big joke. Waiting for the next schmuck to walk in to the bar, and say Ouch.
And as always, I'll be here. Tending bar. Waiting for the next lawsuit. | 'Oh for fucks sake, not again!' The elderly man behind the slick, wooden bar sighed in exhasperation. Another pair of twits has 'walked into the bar' again. That makes the fourth today and its only ten o'clock in morning! The bar is extraordinarily clean as the elderly man has spent many years tending to it with a well oiled cloth. The tables and chairs are arranged neatly, napkins and cutlery placed with obvious care. Wooden floorboards were stain and spill free, surprising with the amount of Jokesters who think they're funny.
Suddenly the door screaches on un-oiled hinges and a horse walk in.
Not again | |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | "Hey, buddy! Our sign clearly says, 'No Horses Allowed,' And don't give me that long face, mister!"
Jacob scowled at the Clydesdale as it cantered out, neighing indignantly. He sighed heavily, turning to the sole remaining patron of his bar. "I don't get it, Sam. Why do these jokers keep turning up here?"
The grizzled lush looked up from his beer. "Whole neighborhood has gone to Hell, it has," he drawled. "Back when I was growing up, these roustabouts stayed on their own side. Pfft! Gone to Hell, it has."
"A beacon of wisdom as always, Sam. Are you going to have another or..."
The door creaked open and a heavyset man in full orthodox Jewish regalia stepped in. Jacob leered suspiciously, opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. A priest in Catholic mass garments entered beside him, followed by a Muslim with a full white robe and thobe.
"Ah, fuck," Jacob spat. "No religious trios, guys! It says so right outside, underneath the horse sign!"
The Jew huffed, the priest bowed and the Muslim flipped him off, but they left without incident.
"Ay, why don't you just serve the damn fools?" Sam asked. "They're stealin' all our jobs anyway. May as well get a bit 'o the coin back, yeah?"
"Too much of a liability," Jacob replied. "Had a Panda come in about a month ago. Pulls out a gun and kills half of my regulars before hightailing it out. Looked up the fucker on Wikipedia; it was a Chinese Panda who eats shoots and leaves."
"Ah, damn shame," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Half of them aren't even good for the drinks, anyway. After the Panda and before I began enforcing the ban, I was getting a ton of Bohemians. Had to bounce half of those Czechs out."
Sam nodded. "I tell ya, mate, these characters..."
A tall, well-built man with chestnut hair, an olive complexion, and a thick overcoat walked in, surveying the scene with a quick glance. Jacob eyed him as the approached the bar.
"Evening, sir," Jacob said cautiously, alert for any impropriety. "Get ya something to drink?"
"Evening," the man said, nodding slightly and settling himself on a stool. "I'll just have a beer, please."
Jacob smiled, a visible relief washing over his face. He poured a pint of his best ale and handed it over. "This one's on the house, friend," he said. "Just glad to have another normal bloke around these parts."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see this place so empty on a Friday night. It's a lovely establishment."
"Ah yes. Well, we've had some troublesome clientele lately and...say, what do you have there?"
The man had pulled a large chunk of asphalt from under his coat, placing it on the counter. "Oh, I was just wondering if I could get another beer. For the road." |
"So a priest, a rabbi, and a horse walked into my bar last night," the bartender said to his friend.
"Ooh, I love these kinds of jokes," his buddy said, muting the football game, scooting to the edge of the couch excitedly.
"What joke? I was talking about work," replied the bartender. "They're regulars. Paul, Jacob, and Charlie. Charlie's the horse, but he doesn't like calling attention to it, he tends to get upset about it"
"Oh, my bad," apologized the friend. After a sullen pause, a smile quietly formed on his lips. "So did you ask Charlie the horse, 'Why the long face?' he said, stifling a chuckle.
"Well, no," the bartender said, slightly annoyed. "Why would I say something rude to one of my regular customers?"
"Geez dude, nevermind," said the friend. "Did he at least gallop in, say 'hey' and then you brought him a bale of hay?" asked the friend, trying to salvage the conversation, his eyes wandering to the game in the background.
"No, Charlie always gets a gin & tonic," replied the bartender, exasperatedly. "I don't know what crazy ideas you have about my job, but I'm just a typical ol' bartender. Sure, we get some pretty unusual clientele once in a while, but they don't cause a fuss. A couple times a week, we'll get a few ducks, seals, various religious figures, assorted wild animals. Once the entire team of the Harlem Globetrotters came in with the Pope and a trained bear."
"Oh, I guess that's kinda cool," said the friend, feigning interest, eyes fixed back on the game. "So you don't play along with all the jokey situations?"
"I mean, at the end of the day these people, animals, and giant robots come into my bar to relax and grab a drink. If they want a witty comment, I'll help out, no problem. When Steve comes in, I always say to him, 'Hey, we have a drink named after you!' cause I know it helps his game. Steve is a grasshopper, by the way. But most my customers just want to be left alone to do their own thing."
"Ok, I guess that makes sense," the friend replied, turning the sound back on, fully engrossed in the football game. "I just thought it'd be hilarious to work there or there'd be some awesome perks or something..."
"Well," the bartender replied, "we do get some pretty attractive nuns into the bar once in a while."
| |
[WP] all "walks into a bar" jokes happen in the same bar. you're the bartender. | "Hey, buddy! Our sign clearly says, 'No Horses Allowed,' And don't give me that long face, mister!"
Jacob scowled at the Clydesdale as it cantered out, neighing indignantly. He sighed heavily, turning to the sole remaining patron of his bar. "I don't get it, Sam. Why do these jokers keep turning up here?"
The grizzled lush looked up from his beer. "Whole neighborhood has gone to Hell, it has," he drawled. "Back when I was growing up, these roustabouts stayed on their own side. Pfft! Gone to Hell, it has."
"A beacon of wisdom as always, Sam. Are you going to have another or..."
The door creaked open and a heavyset man in full orthodox Jewish regalia stepped in. Jacob leered suspiciously, opened his mouth to speak and then decided against it. A priest in Catholic mass garments entered beside him, followed by a Muslim with a full white robe and thobe.
"Ah, fuck," Jacob spat. "No religious trios, guys! It says so right outside, underneath the horse sign!"
The Jew huffed, the priest bowed and the Muslim flipped him off, but they left without incident.
"Ay, why don't you just serve the damn fools?" Sam asked. "They're stealin' all our jobs anyway. May as well get a bit 'o the coin back, yeah?"
"Too much of a liability," Jacob replied. "Had a Panda come in about a month ago. Pulls out a gun and kills half of my regulars before hightailing it out. Looked up the fucker on Wikipedia; it was a Chinese Panda who eats shoots and leaves."
"Ah, damn shame," Sam said, shaking his head.
"Half of them aren't even good for the drinks, anyway. After the Panda and before I began enforcing the ban, I was getting a ton of Bohemians. Had to bounce half of those Czechs out."
Sam nodded. "I tell ya, mate, these characters..."
A tall, well-built man with chestnut hair, an olive complexion, and a thick overcoat walked in, surveying the scene with a quick glance. Jacob eyed him as the approached the bar.
"Evening, sir," Jacob said cautiously, alert for any impropriety. "Get ya something to drink?"
"Evening," the man said, nodding slightly and settling himself on a stool. "I'll just have a beer, please."
Jacob smiled, a visible relief washing over his face. He poured a pint of his best ale and handed it over. "This one's on the house, friend," he said. "Just glad to have another normal bloke around these parts."
"Thank you, sir," the man replied. "I'm surprised to see this place so empty on a Friday night. It's a lovely establishment."
"Ah yes. Well, we've had some troublesome clientele lately and...say, what do you have there?"
The man had pulled a large chunk of asphalt from under his coat, placing it on the counter. "Oh, I was just wondering if I could get another beer. For the road." | So you really want to buy Chuckles, huh kid? Well I suppose it's only fair to warn you, this place is a bit... funny. What's that? Strange or ha-ha? You have *no* idea...
Okay, a few quick things you gotta know. First of all, group discounts. Use 'em, liberally and often. You'll get all sorts in this place, in all manner of groupings, so do what you can to keep 'em happy.
All animals are welcome, talking or otherwise. Well, all except that duck, you'll find his picture behind the bar. On a completely unrelated note, we DO NOT serve grapes. Oh, and I've learned it's best not to comment on their personal appearance. Or mood. Or both- you know what, just serve them their drinks, you'll be much better off.
There's a shotgun under the bar, but you should only need that on riddle nights...
Ya know, other than that I think you should be fine. Just talk to everyone who comes up, and they tend to take care of the rest. You'll do great kid. Here's the keys.
Oh, one last thing. I decided to try something new one night and set up a fruit juice station over in the corner there. You know, a serve-yourself chasers sorta thing. Everyone loved it... But the punch line got too long! Ha! That's one of mine, on the house! Now, if you'll excuse me, this man's walkin' *out* of a bar!
**OUCH!**
Hey kid? Do me a favor and get that step fixed... | |
[WP] In the world of magic, some people discriminate against others based on what type of magic they use. You, a closet necromancer, are about to come out to your devout holy mage parents. | "God," Dad said. "I just can't handle all of these bonepackers trying to raise their stiffies in unholy union."
Mom nodded quietly while staring at her plate while shifting my a quick sideways look. I tried to catch her eye, but she looked away too fast.
Dad continued,"I mean, if you want to work a bone wand, do it in the privacy of your own lair."
"Oh!" Mom exasperated. Dad look at her with an eyebrow raised, while reaching for the ketchup. Then she flicked her fingers and said,"Bless this food!" Before looking down again.
"Mom, Dad," I said while swallowing hard. "I have something to tell you."
"Yeah, what is it?" Dad said while stuffing his mouth with peas. Mom cooed softly and looked away.
"I'm a necromancer."
Mom dropped the fork on her plate with a clinging noise. Dad stopped midchew.
I looked mostly at him, trying to study the lines on face, interpret his judgement. After a second, he started chewing again.
"Neato," he said. "But are you gay?" | Dear Mom & Dad,
I'm writing you this letter, because I do not know how I will find the words to say what I'm about to you in person. Please understand I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't think it was important, and that no matter what I will always love you and respect you both...
Before you freak out, please, please just finish this letter, listen to what I have to say, and the do whatever you will.
I'm a necromancer, I always have been, and I've never had any choice in the matter.
I remember from a young age how different I felt.
In our community when the other school kids were taught healing spells and began to practice their magic on flower patches, all the weeds would disappear, and the flowers would begin to bloom so beautifully.
But then when it was my turn, all the weeds rose back up, more plentiful than ever before, and the flowers would die. Without knowing what I was doing, I had killed the entire flower patch of the school.
My teacher, Priestess Lara exclaimed in shock, and then told me because I was unfaithful to the deities my magic was failing. She told me to pray, and ask for forgiveness, and the power of light would come outside of me.
I promise, I tried to change, I really did. But then, I raised Boots from the dead.
You remember boots, don't you? She was such the most friendly cat I've ever known... Well remember when she went missing when I was 12, and she was covered in blood? I told you that it was the blood of another cat she got in a fight with that didn't end well...
I lied.
I was looking all over for Boots, and eventually I found her. She was dead, an arrow was in her. Some bratty kids used her as target practice and left her for dead. I felt as if I had lost my best friend, and I immediately began to cry, tears swelled up in my eyes and sobs broke out in my throat that I didn't even realize I was capable of making. I cradled her into my arms, and began to shake back and forth, saying, "Please, no,no,no,no Boots, don't leave me! No!"
Before I knew it a warm sensation began to spread through my body, directly into my hands, and then Boots began to squirm in my arms and kiss my cheek when she started purring.
I was in shock then, but all the fears I had came to life. I was a necromancer, I would never be a healer like you wanted me to. But the thing is, with Boots alive, brought back from the dead, I didn't care.
I know what you're thinking, you'll think I'll become evil. You'll think I'll be like all the other necromancers, raising bodies from the dead to torment their victims, or even worship the fallen god... but you know me better than that I hope.
I did research on it and found others like me, necromancers ashamed of who they are, many of them hide behind guises of healers in order to help others without being associated with evil.
I talked to a man, who I will not name for his own protection, that works in fields. He goes to villages that experience drought, and have trouble growing their grains, and when no one is around he raises the vegetation from the ground, and gives it new life.
The thing that is misunderstood about necromancy is this:
You can raise a corpse from the dead, and leave it as it is, often used to terrify the family who of it belonged to, or to do your own bidding.
But necromancy can also be used as a healing magic, and requires so, so much more skill and patience, and even love.
I could be the necromancers that do evil, but with practice I could become the healer you always wanted me to be, just in a different way.
Please give me that choice. The man I talked to said he would accept me into his apprenticeship.
So there it is. Your child's a necromancer, but I prefer the term "Healer."
Take with it what you will, but all I ask is you continue to love me.
Sincerely,
Yours truly.
--
I haven't wrote in a long time, so this is kind of practice. If it's not that good, I understand. But this prompt was fun to explore!
| |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | I loved Sara.
I loved her *so much*. She was a real catch. Her long, chocolate-colored hair was perfectly smooth and went down to her waist. Her eyes, the same color as her silky smooth hair, always showed a sweet emotion whenever she looked at me. That emotion was pure love.
She had the absolute best from her parents. Asian blood from her father, Irish blood from her mother. Sara's gift was in writing. Her fingers effortlessly flew over the keys on her keyboard, forming a short story that could easily win a contest.
She had the sweetest personality one could ever have. She never ignored me, and always paid for our dates, despite how many times I offered. Her reason was always the same. "I don't want you to have to waste money on me. I'd rather spend a few hundred bucks here and there for my sweetheart." I was smitten with love.
By the time I decided to look up her Love Points, or LP, for the first time, we had been together for a month and were sharing an apartment. I didn't really expect anything bad from her. Honestly, I was sure that she would get the maximum score, 1000, as opposed to my measly 726.
I remember the night I looked it up. She worked happily in the kitchen, cooking her (not yet) famous hibachi, and singing. God, I could listen to her singing all day.
I slinked over to my room, where I booted up my PC. Upon logging in, I went onto LovePoints.com and searched up her name, expecting my little angel to have 1000 points. I stared in shock at the results.
-500 points.
For a second, I thought I had the wrong woman. But no, Sara's name was very uncommon. She was the only result when you searched up her full name. Curious, I read the reviews.
*"Sara is totally crazy! She killed my best friend, just because I was talking to her!"*
*"If you're unlucky enough to have her as a girlfriend, make sure you don't have any female friends."*
*"She scrolled through my phone, found the addresses of all the friends I had that was female, and killed them all!"*
*"Sara is psychotic, manipulative, and obsessive. She yanked away my female friend from me by the hair, just because I was talking to any other girl than her!"*
I stopped reading as I heard her call out to me. "Oh, sen-paaaaaaai!" She entered the room, a steak knife in one hand, my phone in the other, a maniacal grin spread across her face. "Who *is* this Adrian Dei Santi girl?" | "Oh gosh Becky..." It was only the first date and Ted felt amazed after being in the slumps without a single date for what seemed an eternity. After all she looked past his pale skin and thick glasses which apparently the glasses were hotness points. She also thought that him being nervous was cute. There was no way he thought. Surfing the web taught him that girls only liked muscles and cars, but not Becky.
Finally reaching home Ted parked his scooter and reached in his pocket for keys then put them into the lock. "That's weird," Ted said quietly. I always lock the door. Shrugging it off Ted put the keys back in his pocket, locked the door behind him, and continued to think about Becky.
She was so facinating to him, how cool is it that she is a weapon fanatic. She showed him some of her favorites through her cell phone. In these pictures were a wide variety of tool; axes, hammers, bows, and knives. She even had trophies showing her accomplishment in tournaments. She definitely wasn't someone he wanted to make mad.
Logging on to his computer his computer AI booted and spoke "Good evening, anything I can assist you with today?"
"Oh just the usual bluedit.com, just checking if anything good's up before I shower."
On the screen a bunch of different articles showed up though one in particular caught his eye. She's was a total 1000 in looks, but not in score click. Scrolling through many responses came stories of amazing girls, but bad score backgrounds. "Yikes I wouldn't like that, Maya can you search up the name Becky Robinson under the site personalscorereview.com"
"Very well Ted."
Becky was a total qt 3.14 and such a sweet heart. If anything she had to be at least a 600. Even if she was just under it would be fine. He thought to himself that he could make her better and help her score go up even if it were 500.
The screen finished loading and it displayed an animation of a spinning number counter. 1000, 900, 700, 650, as the numbers kept going down Ted felt a weird sensation. There was no way she could be lower than 400 he thought, but the numbers kept going down. 500, 300, 0, -100. Before the numbers could get any lower a flash flew past his peripheral vision and seared the power cord to his monitor.
The door shut and soft voice spoke out, "Ted, hey I thought I'd let myself in to see what I was getting myself into. Also you might want to think about getting better locks, you wouldn't want someone crazy coming in to take you away now would you?"
Unable to move Ted continued to stare at the blank monitor now and in the reflection he saw Becky twirling a piece of metal around her fingers.
"Don't mind the score Ted, it's only a number. What do they even mean anyways, perfect 1000 isn't even a real thing. Ted I'll be your perfect 1000 no matter what that number says."
"Y-yeah it's just a number. I'm bad at math anyways. I didn't really care. I was just curious.". Ted watched as Becky slowly protruded further into his room which was previously thought of as a sanctum.
"I'm curious too Ted, you know why I like to collect weapons? It's not just for show. I thought maybe you could help me test them." Becky drew a wide smile bearing teeth and intent. |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | I loved Sara.
I loved her *so much*. She was a real catch. Her long, chocolate-colored hair was perfectly smooth and went down to her waist. Her eyes, the same color as her silky smooth hair, always showed a sweet emotion whenever she looked at me. That emotion was pure love.
She had the absolute best from her parents. Asian blood from her father, Irish blood from her mother. Sara's gift was in writing. Her fingers effortlessly flew over the keys on her keyboard, forming a short story that could easily win a contest.
She had the sweetest personality one could ever have. She never ignored me, and always paid for our dates, despite how many times I offered. Her reason was always the same. "I don't want you to have to waste money on me. I'd rather spend a few hundred bucks here and there for my sweetheart." I was smitten with love.
By the time I decided to look up her Love Points, or LP, for the first time, we had been together for a month and were sharing an apartment. I didn't really expect anything bad from her. Honestly, I was sure that she would get the maximum score, 1000, as opposed to my measly 726.
I remember the night I looked it up. She worked happily in the kitchen, cooking her (not yet) famous hibachi, and singing. God, I could listen to her singing all day.
I slinked over to my room, where I booted up my PC. Upon logging in, I went onto LovePoints.com and searched up her name, expecting my little angel to have 1000 points. I stared in shock at the results.
-500 points.
For a second, I thought I had the wrong woman. But no, Sara's name was very uncommon. She was the only result when you searched up her full name. Curious, I read the reviews.
*"Sara is totally crazy! She killed my best friend, just because I was talking to her!"*
*"If you're unlucky enough to have her as a girlfriend, make sure you don't have any female friends."*
*"She scrolled through my phone, found the addresses of all the friends I had that was female, and killed them all!"*
*"Sara is psychotic, manipulative, and obsessive. She yanked away my female friend from me by the hair, just because I was talking to any other girl than her!"*
I stopped reading as I heard her call out to me. "Oh, sen-paaaaaaai!" She entered the room, a steak knife in one hand, my phone in the other, a maniacal grin spread across her face. "Who *is* this Adrian Dei Santi girl?" | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
|
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | “You sure this is the name?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve dated the guy for like three months now.”
“We always have a grand time. I think he’ll get a high enough score,” I added.
Gus looked at the dark alley behind me then pocketed the crumpled piece of paper.
“Let’s hope he does,” Gus muttered under his breath. “Wait here.”
He entered the back door of a Chinese restaurant. As far as people are concerned, he’s just a busboy there.
I hugged myself as the door closes in front of me. It’s really dark. I wonder why all the lightposts are busted.
Tick tock.
Rats were scavenging inside the large trashbins, I can hear them go through the day’s loot.
Tick tock.
The door opened. The light from the kitchen shone on Gus’ face. And that’s all I needed to see.
I held my breath.
“Here take this”, Gus said as he shoved the paper on me. “Get out of here fast. You don’t have to pay me.”
He went back inside. I hear the click of the lock.
It was dark again.
Tick tock.
I know it’s bad but I have to see. I took out my phone and held it over the paper.
I screamed inside.
-500?
How? I was in a daze. It doesn’t make sense.
Suddenly the bin cover opened and two rats stood.
“Wait, why would rats stand?” Nothing makes sense.
-500?
The posts suddenly blazed with blinding lights.
“Freeze! NYPD! Drop the paper on the ground.”
My heart stopped.
“Matt?”
*****
My first time. I would appreciate your comments. | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
|
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | "Okay, Jenny lives nearby. Let's see here. Wow, she's really cute. No kids. Likes to read, go to museums, play games. No way, she's into trains? I love trains. Are profiles are really in sync. This is awesome. Wait, what's this? Her score is -500? Alright, click here to see why...
To view this person's contact information and score please click 'subscribe to match' above. A small transaction will be charged to your account. Oh come on!" | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
|
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | As I pace back and forth in my apartment, I ask myself for the hundredth time, "should I call Jason and just ask him?"
The dates had been fantastic! We watched a great movie, had dinner, and agreed on so much. Yes, there were plot holes, no they weren't that bad, yes the lead actor was great, and what a forced cliff hanger they left for a possible sequel - which we both agreed should be made.
He was never late, opened the door for me. conversation was always easy. If I ever ordered a drink, he would warned me that if I drank we wouldn't go home together that night. We're both interested in photography, love the same bands, and even split both our dishes because we have such similar taste. I feel like I've met a long-lost best friend. We were even discussing meeting each other's parents!
But -500? Why? How?
"Local middle school superintendent charged with the murder of his wife, Heather Wu", I started reading as the tears blur my vision. "Jason Wu convicted of wife's murder!" and "Wu please guilty to murder charges".
He never mentioned having been married or being a widower. Am I next? I would be an easy target - I'm a single child of deceased parents. My closest relative is a dotty aunt who lives about 7 hours away. Was he grooming me?!?!
I sit in my bed, panicked and horrified. But Jason was so perfect. Did I make a mistake? No, if he wants to kill me, *he* made the mistake! I need a plan...
I open my eyes and for a second wonder where I am. All I know is a feeling of uneasiness and dread, which makes me jump out of bed in a start. Jason, yes. I must do something about him.
"Hello Jason? It's me. I had a great time last Friday, and wanted to know if you'd like to go to the exhibit on Brazilian street art this Thursday?
Great! Since it's closer to my part of town, will you pick me up? OK, good! And I have a surprise for you, so you should come in before we head out.
I look forward to it! See you Thursday. Oh yeah - why don't you pick me up at 7?
Okay, bye!"
I need to go to shipping for some rope and other supplies.
***
Thursday evening I'm so anxious I pace back and forth in my apartment going through the plan in my head again and again. He should be here any minute now.
Am I ready? Do I look presentable enough that he won't suspect anything? I can run in them, but do these flats look good enough that it won't give me away? I had to wipe off my lipstick 2 times, since my unsteady hand made me look like a clown. I just opted for no lipstick after that.
The doorbell rings. I open it. He's standing there, handsome and with a ridiculously convincing smile and a beautiful bouquet. I need to remember the plan.
"I wanted to surprise you too, but I'm afraid these flowers will look dull compared to you."
*"You smooth bastard. I would have fallen for that line, too. Remember to smile."*
"Hi Jason. It's good see you. Come in."
I take the flowers as I gesture for him to walk in. I have the teapot on the stove whistling. He walks in and is distracted by the noise. As soon as I close the door, I grab the bat behind it, and step lightly behind him.
He spins around before I thought he would, so I have to use the bat on the side of his head instead of the back of his head. I hope that I use enough force to knock him out without any long lasting injuries - it would be a shame if he were unable to serve his sentence.
He's much heavier than I expected, so I'm glad I bought enough rope to tie him up first and then to tie him to the chair. Here's heavy enough that I just end up flipping him so he is laying on his back, still tied up around his ankles and hands. I wait.
Every time he groans, I growl "you bastard!" at him. So far, I've had 3 false alarms. On the 4th groan-and-bastard challenge, he opens his eyes, looking scared and confused.
"Mr. Wu", I say, my tone dripping with condescension, "were you planning on making me the second Heather Wu?"
He seems confused, then plays hurt very convincingly. "Heather? How did you know about her? Oh god, I knew this would come back to haunt me."
"Murder always haunts people - have you never read McBeth?"
He closes his eyes and hangs his head. Not the reaction I anticipated, but I'm glad he knows he's lost.
"Tell me, Jason. What was she worth? Did you ever get to cash in on her insurance policy? I expected your sentence to be longer? Is using your actual name a smart way of avoiding the law? "
"What? No, no! You don't understand!"
I smile. This is the reaction I was waiting for. Where he'd say it was all a misunderstanding.
"Then tell me."
"Heather was dying. Her breast cancer was bad when we finally caught it. It had spread to her lungs. She was in so much pain, and there was nothing the doctors could do."
"If it was disease, wouldn't have been better to wait it out? Or were you afraid that her long treatment would eat into your prize money?"
He lifted his head and stared at me in disbelief. "She was in pain. She begged the doctors to euthanize her, because she didn't want to suffer for years. The doctors expected her to last up to 18 months. **She** didn't want to suffer, she didn't want me to suffer, or go bankrupt because of her. I begged her to seek treatments - whatever the costs, whatever the risks. She didn't want to give me false hope with an experimental drug trial. She said 'what if it makes me uglier than bald?' Then she'd chuckle and say, "but in reality, what are the odds that an early testing drug will save me instead of shutting down my liver instead? I don't want to go, but I really don't want to go that way.'"
He hung his head again, and proceeded to cry. Could he be telling the truth? Was he really this convincing a liar?
After a few minutes, he looked up at the wall and declared, "I did it. My wife begged me to release her from her suffering, so I did. I injected her arm with a bottle of morphine that the nurse had *left* at the side of the table for the past 2 weeks, one month after Heather started begging all the hospital staff that walked in to end her miserable life. She died peacefully, the most peaceful since we found out about her cancer, the most peaceful she'd been in 7 months. I climbed into bed with her and she died in my arms."
Tears were falling down both our cheeks. I sniffled. I couldn't believe.
"If you look up the case, *the state v. Jason Wu*, you'll see that I was convicted and sentenced to time served. This was because Heather left a thank you and good-bye note with the nurse, to make sure people understood it was her wish.
Go ahead though. Finish me off. All I want is Heather. I thought I could move on after our date, but I can't. **You** can't. I miss her. I don't think I'll ever get over her. Please, please do it. You have to.
I sat down my bat. I sat down in front of him. There was no redemption for me. I had been a chance a normal life for him. I had beaten and tied him instead. Where could I possibly go from here? My phone dinged with a message - my own relationship score has now been reduced to -750.
| It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
|
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | It's hard at my age, finding love.
You find a nice-seeming man, a sharp dresser, a real gent, or so he would have you believe. Then you look up their credit rating and realise why they never found the one.
I'd been in many relationships, married twice, had four children. Naturally some of those relationships had... hairier endings. On the whole, though, I'd done quite well for myself. I still had tea with my first husband occasionally.
It does get quite lonely, though.
I was sat at the wedding reception for Julia, my youngest daughter, when I saw him.
Harry Stokes.
He was *gorgeous*, dancing with one of my new daughter-in-law's younger cousins in that way only a truly beloved uncle can. I caught his eye and before I knew it it was me he was twirling across that floor!
It was a whirlwind romance. I discovered he had been a chemist, but retired early to chase his true love: folk music. He played the fiddle with his ceilidh band. He was younger than me - by about a decade - but he didn't seem to mind. He'd never had children of his own, but he loved all his little nieces and nephews dearly.
My own children were delighted at my newfound happiness. Once Julia returned from her honeymoon we arranged to have brunch.
"He sounds lovely, mum. But aren't you - well, aren't you moving a bit fast?" She asked, voice low.
"At my age, dear, you can't move too quickly." I patted her hand in an attempt at comfort. "Please just be happy for me."
She sighed. "Okay. How's his history?"
"His credit? I haven't checked." I feigned an air of indifference. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to ruin the magic.
"Can we at least do that? To put my mind at ease?" She was already removing her phone from her bag.
"I suppose it can't hurt." I said, leaning over to see the screen.
**NAME: HARRY STOKES
SCORE: -500
RECENT ACTIVITY: KILLED SPOUSE**
I didn't say another word, putting down a £20 note and leaving the café in shock. I think Julia called after me, but I could not nor would not hear her.
I went straight home, locked my door, and slid to the floor. I was deaf, blind, mute. I was transforming into stone.
Several days later - though perhaps it was only minutes - my hearing came back. It was slow, at first, and devoid of meaning. I heard a peculiar sound, much like a kettle boiling.
It was only after my sight returned that I realised the sound was coming from *me*.
My phone was beeping at me. My inbox was full, mostly Julia but also some messages from Harry.
My heart seized up at his name.
Julia came round later that day. I could see her, hear her even, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. She bathed me, made me tea, wrapped me in blankets.
"...so sorry... terminal... didn't... sorry..." She faded in and out of focus.
I struggled to piece the information together. "I'm dying?" I croaked.
She looked shocked at first and then laughed. "No, mum. I - well, I got it all wrong."
"What?" I strained to pay attention.
"I asked Amy about Harry - about his - well, you know." She held my hands in hers, squeezed so tightly I thought I would break. "I wanted to know why he wasn't locked up. Turns out his wife - she'd been sick for a long, long time. She'd been wanting to die for a while - she couldn't do it alone. He supplied her with the necessary drugs."
"What?" I didn't quite understand.
"He's not a bad man, mum. He's not a murderer." | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
|
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | I sat with my boyfriend, Damian, and talked to him about life, movies, jobs, *anything.*
Damian was so charming, I didn't even know his score, but I knew it's gonna be up there! He was just so....Perfect.
"Hold on, babe. I gotta go to the bathroom." He said. "Okay, I'll wait here." I replied while awkwardly twirling my spaghetti slowly with my fork.
I noticed his food was all gone. *Damn! He's a fast eater!*
As he walked away, I whipped out my phone to check his credit score. It said...-500? That can't be! I checked the reviews.
"*That asshole walked away from lunch and didn't pay*"
"*He was charming, but just dates girls for food!*"
"*That fucker ate an ENTIRE box of my fucking twinkies.*"
I stared at the reviews, then looked to my left, and saw Damian exiting the restaurant.
Fuck. | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
|
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | @OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I can't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
"Mr. and Mrs. Resnick," he began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
"I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us..."
"Actually Mr. Resnick," the official interrupted, "Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored."
I froze.
"But..." I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"We have multiple negative reviews on record," the official continued. "Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of 'pushy', 'demanding', 'controlling', 'dismissive of others achievements', 'obsessive', 'intolerant', and 'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived."
"You don't understand! It sounds worse than it is," I argued. "She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She isn't 'emotionally distant' she just isn't gushy like..."
"Sir," the official cut me off. "I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that doesn't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist." He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
"We'll get through this," I promised. | It had been a lovely date with that woman. Her eyes were that of the shimmering sea, her laughter was horrifically angelic and her hair was frizzled. Ironically, it made him feel electrocuted.
He was just leaping over fences and gates after his date waved him goodbye. Strangely, there was something about that woman who made him feel intrigued by her state. He was a seasoned individual who knew exactly how to make others believe what he wanted.
It was for the greater good, after all.
He was always the man with the gun. The man who hunted others for his own personal gain. Inside, he did not desire to do that but he knew that he had to. It was either them, or his family.
And god, did he not want his family tortured to death.
Of course, he had managed to steal that ever-so-intriguing card that conveyed the score. "The Death Score" he called it. Who would be so melancholic to look up their score when you can steal it instead? A metallic chuckle was emitted from his body of flesh.
He gazed at the card with a curious glance. That urge of urgency was making him very, very curious. With a microscopic grin, he opened the card and looked.
He froze.
"Negative Five Hundred?" His bated breath had finally managed to surface from his throat. His eyes blinked with disbelief at such a preposterous score. He stopped running, leaping or emitting any noise at all.
He felt dumbstruck. He felt as if the woman struck him with a strike that blasted his world into smithereens. He looked into a corner and then hid for his life.
It was said that when those individuals that scored as low as that score, they were dead. They were supposed to be deader than the dead corpses underneath his house. Deader than the skeletons he buried after hiding them in the closet.
Suddenly, he heard laughter.
He turned around as the blade descended onto him. The last thing he knew, the smile of somebody he thought he knew.
|
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | "Okay, Jenny lives nearby. Let's see here. Wow, she's really cute. No kids. Likes to read, go to museums, play games. No way, she's into trains? I love trains. Are profiles are really in sync. This is awesome. Wait, what's this? Her score is -500? Alright, click here to see why...
To view this person's contact information and score please click 'subscribe to match' above. A small transaction will be charged to your account. Oh come on!" | “You sure this is the name?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve dated the guy for like three months now.”
“We always have a grand time. I think he’ll get a high enough score,” I added.
Gus looked at the dark alley behind me then pocketed the crumpled piece of paper.
“Let’s hope he does,” Gus muttered under his breath. “Wait here.”
He entered the back door of a Chinese restaurant. As far as people are concerned, he’s just a busboy there.
I hugged myself as the door closes in front of me. It’s really dark. I wonder why all the lightposts are busted.
Tick tock.
Rats were scavenging inside the large trashbins, I can hear them go through the day’s loot.
Tick tock.
The door opened. The light from the kitchen shone on Gus’ face. And that’s all I needed to see.
I held my breath.
“Here take this”, Gus said as he shoved the paper on me. “Get out of here fast. You don’t have to pay me.”
He went back inside. I hear the click of the lock.
It was dark again.
Tick tock.
I know it’s bad but I have to see. I took out my phone and held it over the paper.
I screamed inside.
-500?
How? I was in a daze. It doesn’t make sense.
Suddenly the bin cover opened and two rats stood.
“Wait, why would rats stand?” Nothing makes sense.
-500?
The posts suddenly blazed with blinding lights.
“Freeze! NYPD! Drop the paper on the ground.”
My heart stopped.
“Matt?”
*****
My first time. I would appreciate your comments. |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | As I pace back and forth in my apartment, I ask myself for the hundredth time, "should I call Jason and just ask him?"
The dates had been fantastic! We watched a great movie, had dinner, and agreed on so much. Yes, there were plot holes, no they weren't that bad, yes the lead actor was great, and what a forced cliff hanger they left for a possible sequel - which we both agreed should be made.
He was never late, opened the door for me. conversation was always easy. If I ever ordered a drink, he would warned me that if I drank we wouldn't go home together that night. We're both interested in photography, love the same bands, and even split both our dishes because we have such similar taste. I feel like I've met a long-lost best friend. We were even discussing meeting each other's parents!
But -500? Why? How?
"Local middle school superintendent charged with the murder of his wife, Heather Wu", I started reading as the tears blur my vision. "Jason Wu convicted of wife's murder!" and "Wu please guilty to murder charges".
He never mentioned having been married or being a widower. Am I next? I would be an easy target - I'm a single child of deceased parents. My closest relative is a dotty aunt who lives about 7 hours away. Was he grooming me?!?!
I sit in my bed, panicked and horrified. But Jason was so perfect. Did I make a mistake? No, if he wants to kill me, *he* made the mistake! I need a plan...
I open my eyes and for a second wonder where I am. All I know is a feeling of uneasiness and dread, which makes me jump out of bed in a start. Jason, yes. I must do something about him.
"Hello Jason? It's me. I had a great time last Friday, and wanted to know if you'd like to go to the exhibit on Brazilian street art this Thursday?
Great! Since it's closer to my part of town, will you pick me up? OK, good! And I have a surprise for you, so you should come in before we head out.
I look forward to it! See you Thursday. Oh yeah - why don't you pick me up at 7?
Okay, bye!"
I need to go to shipping for some rope and other supplies.
***
Thursday evening I'm so anxious I pace back and forth in my apartment going through the plan in my head again and again. He should be here any minute now.
Am I ready? Do I look presentable enough that he won't suspect anything? I can run in them, but do these flats look good enough that it won't give me away? I had to wipe off my lipstick 2 times, since my unsteady hand made me look like a clown. I just opted for no lipstick after that.
The doorbell rings. I open it. He's standing there, handsome and with a ridiculously convincing smile and a beautiful bouquet. I need to remember the plan.
"I wanted to surprise you too, but I'm afraid these flowers will look dull compared to you."
*"You smooth bastard. I would have fallen for that line, too. Remember to smile."*
"Hi Jason. It's good see you. Come in."
I take the flowers as I gesture for him to walk in. I have the teapot on the stove whistling. He walks in and is distracted by the noise. As soon as I close the door, I grab the bat behind it, and step lightly behind him.
He spins around before I thought he would, so I have to use the bat on the side of his head instead of the back of his head. I hope that I use enough force to knock him out without any long lasting injuries - it would be a shame if he were unable to serve his sentence.
He's much heavier than I expected, so I'm glad I bought enough rope to tie him up first and then to tie him to the chair. Here's heavy enough that I just end up flipping him so he is laying on his back, still tied up around his ankles and hands. I wait.
Every time he groans, I growl "you bastard!" at him. So far, I've had 3 false alarms. On the 4th groan-and-bastard challenge, he opens his eyes, looking scared and confused.
"Mr. Wu", I say, my tone dripping with condescension, "were you planning on making me the second Heather Wu?"
He seems confused, then plays hurt very convincingly. "Heather? How did you know about her? Oh god, I knew this would come back to haunt me."
"Murder always haunts people - have you never read McBeth?"
He closes his eyes and hangs his head. Not the reaction I anticipated, but I'm glad he knows he's lost.
"Tell me, Jason. What was she worth? Did you ever get to cash in on her insurance policy? I expected your sentence to be longer? Is using your actual name a smart way of avoiding the law? "
"What? No, no! You don't understand!"
I smile. This is the reaction I was waiting for. Where he'd say it was all a misunderstanding.
"Then tell me."
"Heather was dying. Her breast cancer was bad when we finally caught it. It had spread to her lungs. She was in so much pain, and there was nothing the doctors could do."
"If it was disease, wouldn't have been better to wait it out? Or were you afraid that her long treatment would eat into your prize money?"
He lifted his head and stared at me in disbelief. "She was in pain. She begged the doctors to euthanize her, because she didn't want to suffer for years. The doctors expected her to last up to 18 months. **She** didn't want to suffer, she didn't want me to suffer, or go bankrupt because of her. I begged her to seek treatments - whatever the costs, whatever the risks. She didn't want to give me false hope with an experimental drug trial. She said 'what if it makes me uglier than bald?' Then she'd chuckle and say, "but in reality, what are the odds that an early testing drug will save me instead of shutting down my liver instead? I don't want to go, but I really don't want to go that way.'"
He hung his head again, and proceeded to cry. Could he be telling the truth? Was he really this convincing a liar?
After a few minutes, he looked up at the wall and declared, "I did it. My wife begged me to release her from her suffering, so I did. I injected her arm with a bottle of morphine that the nurse had *left* at the side of the table for the past 2 weeks, one month after Heather started begging all the hospital staff that walked in to end her miserable life. She died peacefully, the most peaceful since we found out about her cancer, the most peaceful she'd been in 7 months. I climbed into bed with her and she died in my arms."
Tears were falling down both our cheeks. I sniffled. I couldn't believe.
"If you look up the case, *the state v. Jason Wu*, you'll see that I was convicted and sentenced to time served. This was because Heather left a thank you and good-bye note with the nurse, to make sure people understood it was her wish.
Go ahead though. Finish me off. All I want is Heather. I thought I could move on after our date, but I can't. **You** can't. I miss her. I don't think I'll ever get over her. Please, please do it. You have to.
I sat down my bat. I sat down in front of him. There was no redemption for me. I had been a chance a normal life for him. I had beaten and tied him instead. Where could I possibly go from here? My phone dinged with a message - my own relationship score has now been reduced to -750.
| “You sure this is the name?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve dated the guy for like three months now.”
“We always have a grand time. I think he’ll get a high enough score,” I added.
Gus looked at the dark alley behind me then pocketed the crumpled piece of paper.
“Let’s hope he does,” Gus muttered under his breath. “Wait here.”
He entered the back door of a Chinese restaurant. As far as people are concerned, he’s just a busboy there.
I hugged myself as the door closes in front of me. It’s really dark. I wonder why all the lightposts are busted.
Tick tock.
Rats were scavenging inside the large trashbins, I can hear them go through the day’s loot.
Tick tock.
The door opened. The light from the kitchen shone on Gus’ face. And that’s all I needed to see.
I held my breath.
“Here take this”, Gus said as he shoved the paper on me. “Get out of here fast. You don’t have to pay me.”
He went back inside. I hear the click of the lock.
It was dark again.
Tick tock.
I know it’s bad but I have to see. I took out my phone and held it over the paper.
I screamed inside.
-500?
How? I was in a daze. It doesn’t make sense.
Suddenly the bin cover opened and two rats stood.
“Wait, why would rats stand?” Nothing makes sense.
-500?
The posts suddenly blazed with blinding lights.
“Freeze! NYPD! Drop the paper on the ground.”
My heart stopped.
“Matt?”
*****
My first time. I would appreciate your comments. |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | @OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I can't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
"Mr. and Mrs. Resnick," he began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
"I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us..."
"Actually Mr. Resnick," the official interrupted, "Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored."
I froze.
"But..." I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"We have multiple negative reviews on record," the official continued. "Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of 'pushy', 'demanding', 'controlling', 'dismissive of others achievements', 'obsessive', 'intolerant', and 'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived."
"You don't understand! It sounds worse than it is," I argued. "She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She isn't 'emotionally distant' she just isn't gushy like..."
"Sir," the official cut me off. "I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that doesn't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist." He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
"We'll get through this," I promised. | “You sure this is the name?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve dated the guy for like three months now.”
“We always have a grand time. I think he’ll get a high enough score,” I added.
Gus looked at the dark alley behind me then pocketed the crumpled piece of paper.
“Let’s hope he does,” Gus muttered under his breath. “Wait here.”
He entered the back door of a Chinese restaurant. As far as people are concerned, he’s just a busboy there.
I hugged myself as the door closes in front of me. It’s really dark. I wonder why all the lightposts are busted.
Tick tock.
Rats were scavenging inside the large trashbins, I can hear them go through the day’s loot.
Tick tock.
The door opened. The light from the kitchen shone on Gus’ face. And that’s all I needed to see.
I held my breath.
“Here take this”, Gus said as he shoved the paper on me. “Get out of here fast. You don’t have to pay me.”
He went back inside. I hear the click of the lock.
It was dark again.
Tick tock.
I know it’s bad but I have to see. I took out my phone and held it over the paper.
I screamed inside.
-500?
How? I was in a daze. It doesn’t make sense.
Suddenly the bin cover opened and two rats stood.
“Wait, why would rats stand?” Nothing makes sense.
-500?
The posts suddenly blazed with blinding lights.
“Freeze! NYPD! Drop the paper on the ground.”
My heart stopped.
“Matt?”
*****
My first time. I would appreciate your comments. |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | As I pace back and forth in my apartment, I ask myself for the hundredth time, "should I call Jason and just ask him?"
The dates had been fantastic! We watched a great movie, had dinner, and agreed on so much. Yes, there were plot holes, no they weren't that bad, yes the lead actor was great, and what a forced cliff hanger they left for a possible sequel - which we both agreed should be made.
He was never late, opened the door for me. conversation was always easy. If I ever ordered a drink, he would warned me that if I drank we wouldn't go home together that night. We're both interested in photography, love the same bands, and even split both our dishes because we have such similar taste. I feel like I've met a long-lost best friend. We were even discussing meeting each other's parents!
But -500? Why? How?
"Local middle school superintendent charged with the murder of his wife, Heather Wu", I started reading as the tears blur my vision. "Jason Wu convicted of wife's murder!" and "Wu please guilty to murder charges".
He never mentioned having been married or being a widower. Am I next? I would be an easy target - I'm a single child of deceased parents. My closest relative is a dotty aunt who lives about 7 hours away. Was he grooming me?!?!
I sit in my bed, panicked and horrified. But Jason was so perfect. Did I make a mistake? No, if he wants to kill me, *he* made the mistake! I need a plan...
I open my eyes and for a second wonder where I am. All I know is a feeling of uneasiness and dread, which makes me jump out of bed in a start. Jason, yes. I must do something about him.
"Hello Jason? It's me. I had a great time last Friday, and wanted to know if you'd like to go to the exhibit on Brazilian street art this Thursday?
Great! Since it's closer to my part of town, will you pick me up? OK, good! And I have a surprise for you, so you should come in before we head out.
I look forward to it! See you Thursday. Oh yeah - why don't you pick me up at 7?
Okay, bye!"
I need to go to shipping for some rope and other supplies.
***
Thursday evening I'm so anxious I pace back and forth in my apartment going through the plan in my head again and again. He should be here any minute now.
Am I ready? Do I look presentable enough that he won't suspect anything? I can run in them, but do these flats look good enough that it won't give me away? I had to wipe off my lipstick 2 times, since my unsteady hand made me look like a clown. I just opted for no lipstick after that.
The doorbell rings. I open it. He's standing there, handsome and with a ridiculously convincing smile and a beautiful bouquet. I need to remember the plan.
"I wanted to surprise you too, but I'm afraid these flowers will look dull compared to you."
*"You smooth bastard. I would have fallen for that line, too. Remember to smile."*
"Hi Jason. It's good see you. Come in."
I take the flowers as I gesture for him to walk in. I have the teapot on the stove whistling. He walks in and is distracted by the noise. As soon as I close the door, I grab the bat behind it, and step lightly behind him.
He spins around before I thought he would, so I have to use the bat on the side of his head instead of the back of his head. I hope that I use enough force to knock him out without any long lasting injuries - it would be a shame if he were unable to serve his sentence.
He's much heavier than I expected, so I'm glad I bought enough rope to tie him up first and then to tie him to the chair. Here's heavy enough that I just end up flipping him so he is laying on his back, still tied up around his ankles and hands. I wait.
Every time he groans, I growl "you bastard!" at him. So far, I've had 3 false alarms. On the 4th groan-and-bastard challenge, he opens his eyes, looking scared and confused.
"Mr. Wu", I say, my tone dripping with condescension, "were you planning on making me the second Heather Wu?"
He seems confused, then plays hurt very convincingly. "Heather? How did you know about her? Oh god, I knew this would come back to haunt me."
"Murder always haunts people - have you never read McBeth?"
He closes his eyes and hangs his head. Not the reaction I anticipated, but I'm glad he knows he's lost.
"Tell me, Jason. What was she worth? Did you ever get to cash in on her insurance policy? I expected your sentence to be longer? Is using your actual name a smart way of avoiding the law? "
"What? No, no! You don't understand!"
I smile. This is the reaction I was waiting for. Where he'd say it was all a misunderstanding.
"Then tell me."
"Heather was dying. Her breast cancer was bad when we finally caught it. It had spread to her lungs. She was in so much pain, and there was nothing the doctors could do."
"If it was disease, wouldn't have been better to wait it out? Or were you afraid that her long treatment would eat into your prize money?"
He lifted his head and stared at me in disbelief. "She was in pain. She begged the doctors to euthanize her, because she didn't want to suffer for years. The doctors expected her to last up to 18 months. **She** didn't want to suffer, she didn't want me to suffer, or go bankrupt because of her. I begged her to seek treatments - whatever the costs, whatever the risks. She didn't want to give me false hope with an experimental drug trial. She said 'what if it makes me uglier than bald?' Then she'd chuckle and say, "but in reality, what are the odds that an early testing drug will save me instead of shutting down my liver instead? I don't want to go, but I really don't want to go that way.'"
He hung his head again, and proceeded to cry. Could he be telling the truth? Was he really this convincing a liar?
After a few minutes, he looked up at the wall and declared, "I did it. My wife begged me to release her from her suffering, so I did. I injected her arm with a bottle of morphine that the nurse had *left* at the side of the table for the past 2 weeks, one month after Heather started begging all the hospital staff that walked in to end her miserable life. She died peacefully, the most peaceful since we found out about her cancer, the most peaceful she'd been in 7 months. I climbed into bed with her and she died in my arms."
Tears were falling down both our cheeks. I sniffled. I couldn't believe.
"If you look up the case, *the state v. Jason Wu*, you'll see that I was convicted and sentenced to time served. This was because Heather left a thank you and good-bye note with the nurse, to make sure people understood it was her wish.
Go ahead though. Finish me off. All I want is Heather. I thought I could move on after our date, but I can't. **You** can't. I miss her. I don't think I'll ever get over her. Please, please do it. You have to.
I sat down my bat. I sat down in front of him. There was no redemption for me. I had been a chance a normal life for him. I had beaten and tied him instead. Where could I possibly go from here? My phone dinged with a message - my own relationship score has now been reduced to -750.
| "Okay, Jenny lives nearby. Let's see here. Wow, she's really cute. No kids. Likes to read, go to museums, play games. No way, she's into trains? I love trains. Are profiles are really in sync. This is awesome. Wait, what's this? Her score is -500? Alright, click here to see why...
To view this person's contact information and score please click 'subscribe to match' above. A small transaction will be charged to your account. Oh come on!" |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | @OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I can't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
"Mr. and Mrs. Resnick," he began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
"I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us..."
"Actually Mr. Resnick," the official interrupted, "Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored."
I froze.
"But..." I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"We have multiple negative reviews on record," the official continued. "Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of 'pushy', 'demanding', 'controlling', 'dismissive of others achievements', 'obsessive', 'intolerant', and 'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived."
"You don't understand! It sounds worse than it is," I argued. "She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She isn't 'emotionally distant' she just isn't gushy like..."
"Sir," the official cut me off. "I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that doesn't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist." He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
"We'll get through this," I promised. | "Okay, Jenny lives nearby. Let's see here. Wow, she's really cute. No kids. Likes to read, go to museums, play games. No way, she's into trains? I love trains. Are profiles are really in sync. This is awesome. Wait, what's this? Her score is -500? Alright, click here to see why...
To view this person's contact information and score please click 'subscribe to match' above. A small transaction will be charged to your account. Oh come on!" |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | @OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I can't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
"Mr. and Mrs. Resnick," he began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
"I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us..."
"Actually Mr. Resnick," the official interrupted, "Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored."
I froze.
"But..." I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"We have multiple negative reviews on record," the official continued. "Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of 'pushy', 'demanding', 'controlling', 'dismissive of others achievements', 'obsessive', 'intolerant', and 'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived."
"You don't understand! It sounds worse than it is," I argued. "She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She isn't 'emotionally distant' she just isn't gushy like..."
"Sir," the official cut me off. "I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that doesn't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist." He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
"We'll get through this," I promised. | It's hard at my age, finding love.
You find a nice-seeming man, a sharp dresser, a real gent, or so he would have you believe. Then you look up their credit rating and realise why they never found the one.
I'd been in many relationships, married twice, had four children. Naturally some of those relationships had... hairier endings. On the whole, though, I'd done quite well for myself. I still had tea with my first husband occasionally.
It does get quite lonely, though.
I was sat at the wedding reception for Julia, my youngest daughter, when I saw him.
Harry Stokes.
He was *gorgeous*, dancing with one of my new daughter-in-law's younger cousins in that way only a truly beloved uncle can. I caught his eye and before I knew it it was me he was twirling across that floor!
It was a whirlwind romance. I discovered he had been a chemist, but retired early to chase his true love: folk music. He played the fiddle with his ceilidh band. He was younger than me - by about a decade - but he didn't seem to mind. He'd never had children of his own, but he loved all his little nieces and nephews dearly.
My own children were delighted at my newfound happiness. Once Julia returned from her honeymoon we arranged to have brunch.
"He sounds lovely, mum. But aren't you - well, aren't you moving a bit fast?" She asked, voice low.
"At my age, dear, you can't move too quickly." I patted her hand in an attempt at comfort. "Please just be happy for me."
She sighed. "Okay. How's his history?"
"His credit? I haven't checked." I feigned an air of indifference. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to ruin the magic.
"Can we at least do that? To put my mind at ease?" She was already removing her phone from her bag.
"I suppose it can't hurt." I said, leaning over to see the screen.
**NAME: HARRY STOKES
SCORE: -500
RECENT ACTIVITY: KILLED SPOUSE**
I didn't say another word, putting down a £20 note and leaving the café in shock. I think Julia called after me, but I could not nor would not hear her.
I went straight home, locked my door, and slid to the floor. I was deaf, blind, mute. I was transforming into stone.
Several days later - though perhaps it was only minutes - my hearing came back. It was slow, at first, and devoid of meaning. I heard a peculiar sound, much like a kettle boiling.
It was only after my sight returned that I realised the sound was coming from *me*.
My phone was beeping at me. My inbox was full, mostly Julia but also some messages from Harry.
My heart seized up at his name.
Julia came round later that day. I could see her, hear her even, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. She bathed me, made me tea, wrapped me in blankets.
"...so sorry... terminal... didn't... sorry..." She faded in and out of focus.
I struggled to piece the information together. "I'm dying?" I croaked.
She looked shocked at first and then laughed. "No, mum. I - well, I got it all wrong."
"What?" I strained to pay attention.
"I asked Amy about Harry - about his - well, you know." She held my hands in hers, squeezed so tightly I thought I would break. "I wanted to know why he wasn't locked up. Turns out his wife - she'd been sick for a long, long time. She'd been wanting to die for a while - she couldn't do it alone. He supplied her with the necessary drugs."
"What?" I didn't quite understand.
"He's not a bad man, mum. He's not a murderer." |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | I sat with my boyfriend, Damian, and talked to him about life, movies, jobs, *anything.*
Damian was so charming, I didn't even know his score, but I knew it's gonna be up there! He was just so....Perfect.
"Hold on, babe. I gotta go to the bathroom." He said. "Okay, I'll wait here." I replied while awkwardly twirling my spaghetti slowly with my fork.
I noticed his food was all gone. *Damn! He's a fast eater!*
As he walked away, I whipped out my phone to check his credit score. It said...-500? That can't be! I checked the reviews.
"*That asshole walked away from lunch and didn't pay*"
"*He was charming, but just dates girls for food!*"
"*That fucker ate an ENTIRE box of my fucking twinkies.*"
I stared at the reviews, then looked to my left, and saw Damian exiting the restaurant.
Fuck. | I looked at the menu full of nothing but weird-ass smoothies, all of which had the word 'acai' at the beginning. Acai PBJ smoothie. Acai dragonfruit passion. Acai acai smoothie. *Fuck.*
"It's really healthy, she said with and innocent smile so white I nearly went blind. "I promise, they're tasty!"
I looked at her and returned the gesture. "Yeah, I love healthy food!" *I mean, I'd eat sandpaper if it keeps you around.*
Seriously, I would've.
The smoothie tasted like fruity dirt, but I guess it's better than sandpaper at the end of the day.
"I love this place, thanks for the suggestion!" I said, smiling through the displeasing taste.
"Thanks! Why don't we go back to your place and hang out? Do you play rocket league?"
I dropped the smoothie cup on the ground, staring into her shimmering blue eyes. "Does Bill Cosby love mixing drinks?"
She giggled and pulled me toward the door. "Actually, I'm going to run to the bathroom first- gimme one second!"
I watched her leave, staring until she disappeared, then whipped out my phone. "Kaylee... Simpson. Run report..."
*Love Credit: -500. Chews with mouth open.*
I looked at the straw of her drink and was gone before you could say "sneaky motherfucker."
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury* |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | @OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I can't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
"Mr. and Mrs. Resnick," he began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
"I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us..."
"Actually Mr. Resnick," the official interrupted, "Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored."
I froze.
"But..." I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"We have multiple negative reviews on record," the official continued. "Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of 'pushy', 'demanding', 'controlling', 'dismissive of others achievements', 'obsessive', 'intolerant', and 'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived."
"You don't understand! It sounds worse than it is," I argued. "She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She isn't 'emotionally distant' she just isn't gushy like..."
"Sir," the official cut me off. "I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that doesn't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist." He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
"We'll get through this," I promised. | I looked at the menu full of nothing but weird-ass smoothies, all of which had the word 'acai' at the beginning. Acai PBJ smoothie. Acai dragonfruit passion. Acai acai smoothie. *Fuck.*
"It's really healthy, she said with and innocent smile so white I nearly went blind. "I promise, they're tasty!"
I looked at her and returned the gesture. "Yeah, I love healthy food!" *I mean, I'd eat sandpaper if it keeps you around.*
Seriously, I would've.
The smoothie tasted like fruity dirt, but I guess it's better than sandpaper at the end of the day.
"I love this place, thanks for the suggestion!" I said, smiling through the displeasing taste.
"Thanks! Why don't we go back to your place and hang out? Do you play rocket league?"
I dropped the smoothie cup on the ground, staring into her shimmering blue eyes. "Does Bill Cosby love mixing drinks?"
She giggled and pulled me toward the door. "Actually, I'm going to run to the bathroom first- gimme one second!"
I watched her leave, staring until she disappeared, then whipped out my phone. "Kaylee... Simpson. Run report..."
*Love Credit: -500. Chews with mouth open.*
I looked at the straw of her drink and was gone before you could say "sneaky motherfucker."
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury* |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | People thought 'relationship scores' were too invasive, or that they would cause people to rely on them in place of common sense.
Which were fair criticisms, but people could abstain from searching their significant others, or mention how they felt, but when people first started using them nothing really went wrong.
Sure, there were some divorces and scandals involving infidelity, but wouldn't it be better to know?
Nobody's personal information got leaked, people could only look up somebody's score if they'd gone on a date with them, and you could check your own periodically.
On the scoring page, there'd be a reasoning section where you could see the gist of why they had the score they did.
Maybe it'd be mediocre because they often spend a lot of time ignoring their significant other, or maybe it'd be good because they're emotionally stable, after a first date you could check and see.
My score wasn't incredibly impressive, at 750, it wasn't bad by any means though. I was fairly confident in my score, and when I'd gone on a few dates with Jessica things seemed to go pretty well.
She was really sweet, and quite generous even, but it was hard to tell at first as she was quite shy. I was one of very few friends she had here, and things just seemed to progress as we got more comfortable with one another.
She was likable, charismatic even, I couldn't really think of anybody that didn't like her. Jessica just really wasn't all that outgoing. After the first date or two, we'd just hang out at her apartment and watch movies. It was really enjoyable.
Though she did have moments where she'd seem to be caught in her own head, she'd go quiet at certain triggers but I could never quite seem to find out what they were. She'd apologize and give a brief explanation that I would believe.
Well, one day I had been thinking about her quiet moments, and decided to check her score. It wasn't a well thought out plan, just a spur of the moment idea.
It wasn't difficult, I just logged in, and found her easily enough, I was expecting somewhere between 600 and 700.
She had -500.
The lowest I'd ever seen was 367 before. If somebody's score seems really strange, you can have it give a more in depth explanation although it would notify them.
I had no idea what her brief explanation meant, there was no mention of infidelity or abuse.
No gas-lighting or ignoring her past boyfriends, no abuse on either side, emotional or physical.
I figured I deserved to know what was going on, she seemed perfect. Which I guess in itself could be the only thing seen as a red flag.
I didn't feel any sort of anxiety or panic when I inquired to find out more, just a sort of bewilderment or curiosity.
It started and was significantly more brief than I had expected.
"Coerced past significant other into suicide."
I could feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and I was already sure of who it would be. | I looked at the menu full of nothing but weird-ass smoothies, all of which had the word 'acai' at the beginning. Acai PBJ smoothie. Acai dragonfruit passion. Acai acai smoothie. *Fuck.*
"It's really healthy, she said with and innocent smile so white I nearly went blind. "I promise, they're tasty!"
I looked at her and returned the gesture. "Yeah, I love healthy food!" *I mean, I'd eat sandpaper if it keeps you around.*
Seriously, I would've.
The smoothie tasted like fruity dirt, but I guess it's better than sandpaper at the end of the day.
"I love this place, thanks for the suggestion!" I said, smiling through the displeasing taste.
"Thanks! Why don't we go back to your place and hang out? Do you play rocket league?"
I dropped the smoothie cup on the ground, staring into her shimmering blue eyes. "Does Bill Cosby love mixing drinks?"
She giggled and pulled me toward the door. "Actually, I'm going to run to the bathroom first- gimme one second!"
I watched her leave, staring until she disappeared, then whipped out my phone. "Kaylee... Simpson. Run report..."
*Love Credit: -500. Chews with mouth open.*
I looked at the straw of her drink and was gone before you could say "sneaky motherfucker."
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury* |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | Courtney comes back from the date, twirling around and humming to herself. "Went well?" I ask, not lifting my eyes from the computer.
"Oh, it was amazing," she says. "He was chivalrous, funny, and paid for dinner. He told me I was pretty and young. We had a great time. We took a walk around Liberty Pond, and --"
"What was his name, again?" I ask, loading up DatingScoreNow.com. She never wants to check, saying it 'ruins the surprise'; but every time I've made her, it's saved her heartbreak in the end.
"Mark Jones," she calls from the hallway. *Mark Jones*, I type. *Dating Score: -548*.
Uh-oh.
I scan the reviews:
"He put on my coat for me, then told me how every woman needed a man to protect her. Chivalrous? Maybe. Anti-feminist? For sure." *-- Marilyn, 26*
"He made crude jokes, then proceeded to laugh at them for thirty seconds straight. I was not amused." *-- Elana, 22*
"He told me I was too old." *-- Jessica, 31*
"He never pays for dinner." *-- Elizabeth, 24*
*How did Courtney overlook all of these terrible details?* I think, shaking my head. "What kind of jokes did he make?" I ask as she saunters back into the room, wearing her pajamas and hair in a messy bun.
"Oh, well, I don't really want to repeat them -- they were a little vulgar," she says, giggling. "But they were *so* funny."
"And how was he chivalrous? Did he open the door for you?"
"Yeah."
"Did he, um, say anything about women's roles --"
"Oh, yeah, he told me that he believes a woman's place is in the home. It was so honest and cool, and I kind of agreed with him."
*Oh, shit. They actually agree on this?!* "You said... he paid for dinner?" *Maybe they're actually meant for each other, or something... in their mutual weirdness.*
"Yeah. It was wonderful! Anyway, did you look up his score? I know normally I don't want to know, but honestly, I feel so confident about him, I'm not afraid."
"It's great," I say, shutting the laptop. "It's 548." | I looked at the menu full of nothing but weird-ass smoothies, all of which had the word 'acai' at the beginning. Acai PBJ smoothie. Acai dragonfruit passion. Acai acai smoothie. *Fuck.*
"It's really healthy, she said with and innocent smile so white I nearly went blind. "I promise, they're tasty!"
I looked at her and returned the gesture. "Yeah, I love healthy food!" *I mean, I'd eat sandpaper if it keeps you around.*
Seriously, I would've.
The smoothie tasted like fruity dirt, but I guess it's better than sandpaper at the end of the day.
"I love this place, thanks for the suggestion!" I said, smiling through the displeasing taste.
"Thanks! Why don't we go back to your place and hang out? Do you play rocket league?"
I dropped the smoothie cup on the ground, staring into her shimmering blue eyes. "Does Bill Cosby love mixing drinks?"
She giggled and pulled me toward the door. "Actually, I'm going to run to the bathroom first- gimme one second!"
I watched her leave, staring until she disappeared, then whipped out my phone. "Kaylee... Simpson. Run report..."
*Love Credit: -500. Chews with mouth open.*
I looked at the straw of her drink and was gone before you could say "sneaky motherfucker."
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury* |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | "It isn't worth it," said Niklas, trying to grab the phone out of my hands. "The terms are trash. You're gonna be miserable. Just sit it out, man."
I pushed him off. He was right - the profile certainly had a *lot* of fine print, and I wasn't thrilled with all the contractual details, but what else was I supposed to do?
"Nik, my L-credit's trash," I said. "The thing with Viv *ruined* me. This is it for me. This is my atonement."
Niklas shook his head. "*Or* just fucking stay out of that shit for a while. It's a demerit-based system, Quinn. Give it time. Five...seven years out from the Viv thing and it'll be like you're starting all over. You can get a nice secured relationship. Someone else looking to raise their score. It's not a big deal."
That just about sealed it for me. "*Seven fucking years?* Are you absolutely mental? I'm not going solo for seven years! I'll be an old, washed up, middle-aged perv by then. It won't matter what my L-credit looks like. No, I've got to do this. I need to start improving my score *now*, so I can trade up to something top tier before I'm too old to start a family."
Niklas drained the last of his coffee and chucked the empty cup into the bin. "You're an idiot. Subprime relationships are a scam. Everyone knows that."
"They're not a scam. It's just a hardship. I'll manage. And as long as I don't fuck up again, I'll be back in the black in a couple years."
"Have fun," said Niklas. "I'm going back to work."
I waved sarcastically. Niklas just didn't understand. In fact, I'm pretty convinced that if you've never had a bad L-credit score, there's no way you *could* understand. Bad L-credit just takes a shit situation and makes it worse. It's a pit. And if you don't get your head out of your ass, you just end up digging deeper and deeper.
And besides, this Rebecca seemed nice enough. Her own L-credit score was mid-range. Respectable. She was only on the subprime list because of her demands. And that's not so bad. Just meant she had standards.
I messaged her. Complimented her profile pictures. Noted I had similar tastes in music and film. Expressed a desire to get a drink sometime.
Her reply was perhaps a bit telling, but fair.
"HOW'D YOU GET SUCH A LOW SCORE? DEETS OR NO GO."
It's hard to explain what happened with Vivian in a single conversation, let alone in a text chat. Like a lot of things in life, it was much more complicated than it seems from a distance.
I replied: "Last GF and I drifted apart. Bad communication. Bad ending."
She replied: "BULLSHIT. YOUR SCORE IS WAY LOW. YOU DID SOMETHING."
And that was true. I made out with Trisha, Vivian's best friend. But like I said, it was complicated.
I replied: "Made mistake. Kissed someone else. Relationship was already dying."
She replied: "YOU SOUND LIKE A WINNER. MAKE IT DINNER. YOU PAY."
I gripped my hands into tight fists. Right. *Atonement.* This is what I deserved.
I replied: "Sounds great. Pick the place."
She replied: "REAL MEN PICK THE PLACE."
Okay. It was going to be fine. All part of the process.
I met Rebecca at a fancy sushi restaurant. I'd offered to pick her up, but she didn't want me to know her address.
"What's with the car?" she asked, as I stepped forward to give her a hug.
"What's...what?"
"I thought you worked in marketing?" said Rebecca. "Your car's like...ten years old."
"Five," I said, pulling absently at the collar of my shirt. "I hear this place is great."
"You've never been?" said Rebecca. "So neither of us will know what we're doing? Great." She stood at the side of the door. Taking the hint, I opened the door for her. "Okay," is all she said to that particular gesture.
I ordered dinner for both of us, as Rebecca only looked at the drink menu. "I don't know sushi," she'd said. "I'm not a huge fan."
"Would you have preferred to go somewhere else?" I asked.
"What difference does that make?" said Rebecca. "We're already here, aren't we?"
I smiled. "Right. Future reference, I guess."
Rebecca excused herself. While she was gone I took out my phone and pulled up my *Karma_Counter* profile. "Up five points," I whispered to myself. So far, so good.
Rebecca tried everything and liked nothing. Her drink was returned twice for being too watered down. She was also unimpressed with my shirt, my haircut, and the way I held my glass of water.
"I don't know," she said. "It's too low on the glass. That's like how little kids hold a glass. I keep thinking you're going to drop it."
I smiled and stopped drinking water for the rest of the meal.
Although she made it very clear that she had a rotten experience, Rebecca agreed to a second date. We met for brunch. She ordered spaghetti, which was very much not on the menu.
We went to a museum for our third date. She took pictures of all the exhibits, even as the unpaid volunteers chasing us around the building told her not to.
"I paid for my ticket," was all she would say when they threatened to have her removed. She did not pay for her ticket.
On it went. And although every day had become a fresh nightmare of debasing text messages and financially crippling outings, my L-credit was on the rise.
"It's not worth it," Niklas said one day after work, as we walked to the gym. "No matter what your score looks like, you're gonna come out of this so damaged it won't matter."
"What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger," I replied.
"Are you a fucking Buddha now?"
"I am beyond Earthly torment."
"We'll see," said Niklas.
And we did see. Almost immediately. Because Rebecca called me while I was at the gym that day, and when I did not answer, she texted me, and when I did not answer she left messages on my various social media platforms. When I did not reply to *those*, Rebecca began a rather impressive social media carpet-bombing campaign, in which what remained of my character was obliterated beyond recognition, while all females in any way connected to my accounts were interrogated and, if they made the mistake of defending themselves or me, called some variation of the word "whore".
It was not an especially pleasant way to come down off a post-workout high.
I called things off with Rebecca. It was not a pleasant break-up. In fact, if my relationship with Rebecca was a time bomb, you could say I'm still finding hidden pieces of shrapnel to this day. She is not someone who lets things go easily.
More atonement, I guess.
My L-credit is, once again, a flaming barrel of baby diapers. Worse, actually, than it was before Rebecca. Niklas was right, which is always a wretched thing to have to admit. But it's fine. I've learned my lesson. No subprime relationships. I'm just going to live with my rotten L-credit. It's not the worst thing in the world.
*Although*...I did just see a new service open up next to the Arby's down on Mallard. *Title Love*, I think it's called. Short-term relationships - they only last until your next paycheck! And they don't even *check* your L-credit!
I mean, obviously I can get by on my own, but some deals are just too good to pass up. | I looked at the menu full of nothing but weird-ass smoothies, all of which had the word 'acai' at the beginning. Acai PBJ smoothie. Acai dragonfruit passion. Acai acai smoothie. *Fuck.*
"It's really healthy, she said with and innocent smile so white I nearly went blind. "I promise, they're tasty!"
I looked at her and returned the gesture. "Yeah, I love healthy food!" *I mean, I'd eat sandpaper if it keeps you around.*
Seriously, I would've.
The smoothie tasted like fruity dirt, but I guess it's better than sandpaper at the end of the day.
"I love this place, thanks for the suggestion!" I said, smiling through the displeasing taste.
"Thanks! Why don't we go back to your place and hang out? Do you play rocket league?"
I dropped the smoothie cup on the ground, staring into her shimmering blue eyes. "Does Bill Cosby love mixing drinks?"
She giggled and pulled me toward the door. "Actually, I'm going to run to the bathroom first- gimme one second!"
I watched her leave, staring until she disappeared, then whipped out my phone. "Kaylee... Simpson. Run report..."
*Love Credit: -500. Chews with mouth open.*
I looked at the straw of her drink and was gone before you could say "sneaky motherfucker."
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury* |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | She typed in the name of the website where you could make *sure*, her hands trembling slightly.
Where you could check that you had met the real thing. Not a cheater or an abuser or a rapist. She had a little habit of checking almost everyone she met, whether she was going out with them or not. Most terrified her. She read the reviews of other people, feeling sick. *He judges me*. *He resents me*. *He hates the way I laugh*. How could you be yourself around people like that?
But Matt was perfect, he'd have a score of 1000 -
-500.
She felt cold as she saw the number beside his picture. She read the reports of those who had dated him before her, who had tried to love him, her heart racing.
*He said he loved me but really hated everything about me. He made fun of me behind my back. He only dated me to have easy sex, because I was so desperate.*
*I thought he was perfect, but he wore a false face. He will rip out your heart and laugh about it.*
*You're stupid if you think Matt will ever love anything about you.*
*He cheated on me again and again before he killed me.*
*He murdered me. He waited for me in the dark and slid a knife through my ribs. Stay away, stay away, stay away.*
*He killed me, he did. I saw him do it.*
She jumped as someone opened the door downstairs. Matt's cheerful voice rang through the apartment as he made his way towards her.
"Hey, babe! Sally, you here?" he called. "I know we said we'd do date night tomorrow, but I couldn't wait..."
Matt got upstairs and paused as he saw her pale, terrified face. She backed away from him, knocking the chair over in the process.
"Get away from me! Murderer! Murderer!" she screamed.
Matt glanced at the computer and what was open on it. That same bogus website she always used in moments like these. She always saw something different. He wondered briefly what it was this time, but didn't pause to talk about it. He just had to get through to her.
"Sally. Did you take your meds today?" he asked, approaching her slowly.
"Liar! Murderer!" she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. "You've always h-hated me..."
He reached her, fending off her kicks and scratching nails, and drew her into his arms.
"Hey, honey, I'm here. I'm right here," he said, stroking her hair as she pounded her fists against his chest. Like she did every time she forgot.
She quieted down as he called the hospital, and then her psychiatrist. Soon, everything would go back to normal. Maybe they could still watch a movie tonight. It didn't matter whether they watched it here or in a hospital. The important thing was to stay.
"Let's get you some help, huh? I still want my date night," he said, kissing her softly on the forehead.
------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I looked at the menu full of nothing but weird-ass smoothies, all of which had the word 'acai' at the beginning. Acai PBJ smoothie. Acai dragonfruit passion. Acai acai smoothie. *Fuck.*
"It's really healthy, she said with and innocent smile so white I nearly went blind. "I promise, they're tasty!"
I looked at her and returned the gesture. "Yeah, I love healthy food!" *I mean, I'd eat sandpaper if it keeps you around.*
Seriously, I would've.
The smoothie tasted like fruity dirt, but I guess it's better than sandpaper at the end of the day.
"I love this place, thanks for the suggestion!" I said, smiling through the displeasing taste.
"Thanks! Why don't we go back to your place and hang out? Do you play rocket league?"
I dropped the smoothie cup on the ground, staring into her shimmering blue eyes. "Does Bill Cosby love mixing drinks?"
She giggled and pulled me toward the door. "Actually, I'm going to run to the bathroom first- gimme one second!"
I watched her leave, staring until she disappeared, then whipped out my phone. "Kaylee... Simpson. Run report..."
*Love Credit: -500. Chews with mouth open.*
I looked at the straw of her drink and was gone before you could say "sneaky motherfucker."
-----
^*/r/resonatingfury* |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | @OP: love the premise! I'm going to take it in a bit of a different direction.
I felt Jennifer's hand tighten in my grasp as we waited. I glanced back across the desk at the official. This wait was awful, I figured the reports would be instantaneous like credit scores.
My wife and I are sitting in a case worker's office in the Department of Public Welfare, waiting for the final decision on our application. We are two years married and decided it was time to take the next step, to have a child of our own. Call me old fashioned, but this is the only time I've cared about my Compatibility Score. I've always been vocal about how people should decide for themselves if they love someone by getting to know them, not by some arbitrary numbers.
Up until now I've had no use for my score, I was never one for dating clubs, and the score was only a minor weight when applying for loans. I had never bothered to check on the scores of the few women I dated, though this had come back to bite me. I was relieved when I met Jennifer, her values were similar to mine. We had the same outlook on life, the same goals, the same hobbies, the same drive.... it was like we were made for each other.
Despite all this I can't help but be nervous. I know that I have at least one black mark on my record. Melissa. Looking back on that train wreck of a relationship still brings a scowl to my face. I'm not proud of who I became by the end. The constant drama and stress left me a wreck. Walking on egg shells, timidly approaching everything, worried about what would set off the next argument; it is little wonder I had found myself flip flopping between spineless debasement and red faced screaming.
I was jerked from my memories as the official stirred and faced us.
"Mr. and Mrs. Resnick," he began, "I'm sorry to inform you, but your application to produce offspring has been denied. As you know it is this office's responsibility to evaluate and certify a household's ability to ensure a stable and psychologically safe environment for future generations. Unfortunately your aggregate score falls below the minimum requirement."
The bottom dropped out of my stomach, I was going to vomit. I turned to Jenny and saw her pale face.
"I'm sorry babe. I should have dated more, padded my reviews after her. I never thought that one relationship would continue to hurt us..."
"Actually Mr. Resnick," the official interrupted, "Your history and profile scores are perfect. You had one negative review on your record, by a Ms. Melissa McAdams. Given her history of giving all negative reviews, and the reviews given against her, all of her input is flagged and ignored."
I froze.
"But..." I turned to look at Jenny. Her eyes were downcast, silent tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"We have multiple negative reviews on record," the official continued. "Her score is well in the negative. We have multiple accounts of 'pushy', 'demanding', 'controlling', 'dismissive of others achievements', 'obsessive', 'intolerant', and 'emotionally distant'. I'm afraid any child raised in this environment will be a neurotic mess, prone to depression and anxiety, with near crippling self-esteem issues. Additionally, the score forecasts divorce to be very likely, further causing psychological strain on any child conceived."
"You don't understand! It sounds worse than it is," I argued. "She's not any of those things! She is driven to succeed, sure, but that is one of the things that makes her great. She expects the best from herself and motivates those around her. She isn't 'emotionally distant' she just isn't gushy like..."
"Sir," the official cut me off. "I realize you love your wife and see her in a positive light, but that doesn't change the score. However there are various programs in place to rehabilitate low or negative scores. Reviews can be disputed, you can improve your score with a monitored pet. The two of you can undertake couples counselling, at the end of the program you will receive a certificate of rehabilitation. On your way out be sure to get a pamphlet from the receptionist." He motioned towards the door.
Slowly we stood and I took her hand.
"We'll get through this," I promised. | I sat with my boyfriend, Damian, and talked to him about life, movies, jobs, *anything.*
Damian was so charming, I didn't even know his score, but I knew it's gonna be up there! He was just so....Perfect.
"Hold on, babe. I gotta go to the bathroom." He said. "Okay, I'll wait here." I replied while awkwardly twirling my spaghetti slowly with my fork.
I noticed his food was all gone. *Damn! He's a fast eater!*
As he walked away, I whipped out my phone to check his credit score. It said...-500? That can't be! I checked the reviews.
"*That asshole walked away from lunch and didn't pay*"
"*He was charming, but just dates girls for food!*"
"*That fucker ate an ENTIRE box of my fucking twinkies.*"
I stared at the reviews, then looked to my left, and saw Damian exiting the restaurant.
Fuck. |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | "It isn't worth it," said Niklas, trying to grab the phone out of my hands. "The terms are trash. You're gonna be miserable. Just sit it out, man."
I pushed him off. He was right - the profile certainly had a *lot* of fine print, and I wasn't thrilled with all the contractual details, but what else was I supposed to do?
"Nik, my L-credit's trash," I said. "The thing with Viv *ruined* me. This is it for me. This is my atonement."
Niklas shook his head. "*Or* just fucking stay out of that shit for a while. It's a demerit-based system, Quinn. Give it time. Five...seven years out from the Viv thing and it'll be like you're starting all over. You can get a nice secured relationship. Someone else looking to raise their score. It's not a big deal."
That just about sealed it for me. "*Seven fucking years?* Are you absolutely mental? I'm not going solo for seven years! I'll be an old, washed up, middle-aged perv by then. It won't matter what my L-credit looks like. No, I've got to do this. I need to start improving my score *now*, so I can trade up to something top tier before I'm too old to start a family."
Niklas drained the last of his coffee and chucked the empty cup into the bin. "You're an idiot. Subprime relationships are a scam. Everyone knows that."
"They're not a scam. It's just a hardship. I'll manage. And as long as I don't fuck up again, I'll be back in the black in a couple years."
"Have fun," said Niklas. "I'm going back to work."
I waved sarcastically. Niklas just didn't understand. In fact, I'm pretty convinced that if you've never had a bad L-credit score, there's no way you *could* understand. Bad L-credit just takes a shit situation and makes it worse. It's a pit. And if you don't get your head out of your ass, you just end up digging deeper and deeper.
And besides, this Rebecca seemed nice enough. Her own L-credit score was mid-range. Respectable. She was only on the subprime list because of her demands. And that's not so bad. Just meant she had standards.
I messaged her. Complimented her profile pictures. Noted I had similar tastes in music and film. Expressed a desire to get a drink sometime.
Her reply was perhaps a bit telling, but fair.
"HOW'D YOU GET SUCH A LOW SCORE? DEETS OR NO GO."
It's hard to explain what happened with Vivian in a single conversation, let alone in a text chat. Like a lot of things in life, it was much more complicated than it seems from a distance.
I replied: "Last GF and I drifted apart. Bad communication. Bad ending."
She replied: "BULLSHIT. YOUR SCORE IS WAY LOW. YOU DID SOMETHING."
And that was true. I made out with Trisha, Vivian's best friend. But like I said, it was complicated.
I replied: "Made mistake. Kissed someone else. Relationship was already dying."
She replied: "YOU SOUND LIKE A WINNER. MAKE IT DINNER. YOU PAY."
I gripped my hands into tight fists. Right. *Atonement.* This is what I deserved.
I replied: "Sounds great. Pick the place."
She replied: "REAL MEN PICK THE PLACE."
Okay. It was going to be fine. All part of the process.
I met Rebecca at a fancy sushi restaurant. I'd offered to pick her up, but she didn't want me to know her address.
"What's with the car?" she asked, as I stepped forward to give her a hug.
"What's...what?"
"I thought you worked in marketing?" said Rebecca. "Your car's like...ten years old."
"Five," I said, pulling absently at the collar of my shirt. "I hear this place is great."
"You've never been?" said Rebecca. "So neither of us will know what we're doing? Great." She stood at the side of the door. Taking the hint, I opened the door for her. "Okay," is all she said to that particular gesture.
I ordered dinner for both of us, as Rebecca only looked at the drink menu. "I don't know sushi," she'd said. "I'm not a huge fan."
"Would you have preferred to go somewhere else?" I asked.
"What difference does that make?" said Rebecca. "We're already here, aren't we?"
I smiled. "Right. Future reference, I guess."
Rebecca excused herself. While she was gone I took out my phone and pulled up my *Karma_Counter* profile. "Up five points," I whispered to myself. So far, so good.
Rebecca tried everything and liked nothing. Her drink was returned twice for being too watered down. She was also unimpressed with my shirt, my haircut, and the way I held my glass of water.
"I don't know," she said. "It's too low on the glass. That's like how little kids hold a glass. I keep thinking you're going to drop it."
I smiled and stopped drinking water for the rest of the meal.
Although she made it very clear that she had a rotten experience, Rebecca agreed to a second date. We met for brunch. She ordered spaghetti, which was very much not on the menu.
We went to a museum for our third date. She took pictures of all the exhibits, even as the unpaid volunteers chasing us around the building told her not to.
"I paid for my ticket," was all she would say when they threatened to have her removed. She did not pay for her ticket.
On it went. And although every day had become a fresh nightmare of debasing text messages and financially crippling outings, my L-credit was on the rise.
"It's not worth it," Niklas said one day after work, as we walked to the gym. "No matter what your score looks like, you're gonna come out of this so damaged it won't matter."
"What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger," I replied.
"Are you a fucking Buddha now?"
"I am beyond Earthly torment."
"We'll see," said Niklas.
And we did see. Almost immediately. Because Rebecca called me while I was at the gym that day, and when I did not answer, she texted me, and when I did not answer she left messages on my various social media platforms. When I did not reply to *those*, Rebecca began a rather impressive social media carpet-bombing campaign, in which what remained of my character was obliterated beyond recognition, while all females in any way connected to my accounts were interrogated and, if they made the mistake of defending themselves or me, called some variation of the word "whore".
It was not an especially pleasant way to come down off a post-workout high.
I called things off with Rebecca. It was not a pleasant break-up. In fact, if my relationship with Rebecca was a time bomb, you could say I'm still finding hidden pieces of shrapnel to this day. She is not someone who lets things go easily.
More atonement, I guess.
My L-credit is, once again, a flaming barrel of baby diapers. Worse, actually, than it was before Rebecca. Niklas was right, which is always a wretched thing to have to admit. But it's fine. I've learned my lesson. No subprime relationships. I'm just going to live with my rotten L-credit. It's not the worst thing in the world.
*Although*...I did just see a new service open up next to the Arby's down on Mallard. *Title Love*, I think it's called. Short-term relationships - they only last until your next paycheck! And they don't even *check* your L-credit!
I mean, obviously I can get by on my own, but some deals are just too good to pass up. | Courtney comes back from the date, twirling around and humming to herself. "Went well?" I ask, not lifting my eyes from the computer.
"Oh, it was amazing," she says. "He was chivalrous, funny, and paid for dinner. He told me I was pretty and young. We had a great time. We took a walk around Liberty Pond, and --"
"What was his name, again?" I ask, loading up DatingScoreNow.com. She never wants to check, saying it 'ruins the surprise'; but every time I've made her, it's saved her heartbreak in the end.
"Mark Jones," she calls from the hallway. *Mark Jones*, I type. *Dating Score: -548*.
Uh-oh.
I scan the reviews:
"He put on my coat for me, then told me how every woman needed a man to protect her. Chivalrous? Maybe. Anti-feminist? For sure." *-- Marilyn, 26*
"He made crude jokes, then proceeded to laugh at them for thirty seconds straight. I was not amused." *-- Elana, 22*
"He told me I was too old." *-- Jessica, 31*
"He never pays for dinner." *-- Elizabeth, 24*
*How did Courtney overlook all of these terrible details?* I think, shaking my head. "What kind of jokes did he make?" I ask as she saunters back into the room, wearing her pajamas and hair in a messy bun.
"Oh, well, I don't really want to repeat them -- they were a little vulgar," she says, giggling. "But they were *so* funny."
"And how was he chivalrous? Did he open the door for you?"
"Yeah."
"Did he, um, say anything about women's roles --"
"Oh, yeah, he told me that he believes a woman's place is in the home. It was so honest and cool, and I kind of agreed with him."
*Oh, shit. They actually agree on this?!* "You said... he paid for dinner?" *Maybe they're actually meant for each other, or something... in their mutual weirdness.*
"Yeah. It was wonderful! Anyway, did you look up his score? I know normally I don't want to know, but honestly, I feel so confident about him, I'm not afraid."
"It's great," I say, shutting the laptop. "It's 548." |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | She typed in the name of the website where you could make *sure*, her hands trembling slightly.
Where you could check that you had met the real thing. Not a cheater or an abuser or a rapist. She had a little habit of checking almost everyone she met, whether she was going out with them or not. Most terrified her. She read the reviews of other people, feeling sick. *He judges me*. *He resents me*. *He hates the way I laugh*. How could you be yourself around people like that?
But Matt was perfect, he'd have a score of 1000 -
-500.
She felt cold as she saw the number beside his picture. She read the reports of those who had dated him before her, who had tried to love him, her heart racing.
*He said he loved me but really hated everything about me. He made fun of me behind my back. He only dated me to have easy sex, because I was so desperate.*
*I thought he was perfect, but he wore a false face. He will rip out your heart and laugh about it.*
*You're stupid if you think Matt will ever love anything about you.*
*He cheated on me again and again before he killed me.*
*He murdered me. He waited for me in the dark and slid a knife through my ribs. Stay away, stay away, stay away.*
*He killed me, he did. I saw him do it.*
She jumped as someone opened the door downstairs. Matt's cheerful voice rang through the apartment as he made his way towards her.
"Hey, babe! Sally, you here?" he called. "I know we said we'd do date night tomorrow, but I couldn't wait..."
Matt got upstairs and paused as he saw her pale, terrified face. She backed away from him, knocking the chair over in the process.
"Get away from me! Murderer! Murderer!" she screamed.
Matt glanced at the computer and what was open on it. That same bogus website she always used in moments like these. She always saw something different. He wondered briefly what it was this time, but didn't pause to talk about it. He just had to get through to her.
"Sally. Did you take your meds today?" he asked, approaching her slowly.
"Liar! Murderer!" she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. "You've always h-hated me..."
He reached her, fending off her kicks and scratching nails, and drew her into his arms.
"Hey, honey, I'm here. I'm right here," he said, stroking her hair as she pounded her fists against his chest. Like she did every time she forgot.
She quieted down as he called the hospital, and then her psychiatrist. Soon, everything would go back to normal. Maybe they could still watch a movie tonight. It didn't matter whether they watched it here or in a hospital. The important thing was to stay.
"Let's get you some help, huh? I still want my date night," he said, kissing her softly on the forehead.
------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | Courtney comes back from the date, twirling around and humming to herself. "Went well?" I ask, not lifting my eyes from the computer.
"Oh, it was amazing," she says. "He was chivalrous, funny, and paid for dinner. He told me I was pretty and young. We had a great time. We took a walk around Liberty Pond, and --"
"What was his name, again?" I ask, loading up DatingScoreNow.com. She never wants to check, saying it 'ruins the surprise'; but every time I've made her, it's saved her heartbreak in the end.
"Mark Jones," she calls from the hallway. *Mark Jones*, I type. *Dating Score: -548*.
Uh-oh.
I scan the reviews:
"He put on my coat for me, then told me how every woman needed a man to protect her. Chivalrous? Maybe. Anti-feminist? For sure." *-- Marilyn, 26*
"He made crude jokes, then proceeded to laugh at them for thirty seconds straight. I was not amused." *-- Elana, 22*
"He told me I was too old." *-- Jessica, 31*
"He never pays for dinner." *-- Elizabeth, 24*
*How did Courtney overlook all of these terrible details?* I think, shaking my head. "What kind of jokes did he make?" I ask as she saunters back into the room, wearing her pajamas and hair in a messy bun.
"Oh, well, I don't really want to repeat them -- they were a little vulgar," she says, giggling. "But they were *so* funny."
"And how was he chivalrous? Did he open the door for you?"
"Yeah."
"Did he, um, say anything about women's roles --"
"Oh, yeah, he told me that he believes a woman's place is in the home. It was so honest and cool, and I kind of agreed with him."
*Oh, shit. They actually agree on this?!* "You said... he paid for dinner?" *Maybe they're actually meant for each other, or something... in their mutual weirdness.*
"Yeah. It was wonderful! Anyway, did you look up his score? I know normally I don't want to know, but honestly, I feel so confident about him, I'm not afraid."
"It's great," I say, shutting the laptop. "It's 548." |
EDIT: I hadn't been able to really check Reddit since I posted this, but WOW thank you all so much for enjoying this!!! I will definitely be getting around to reading all of these awesome stories! You guys rock! | [WP] You live in a world where love and relationships have a "credit score". If you're a good SO it makes it higher, if you cheated on someone it's plummets. You just went on a date with someone and you're convinced they're perfect. You look up their score that night and it's -500 and tells you why. | She typed in the name of the website where you could make *sure*, her hands trembling slightly.
Where you could check that you had met the real thing. Not a cheater or an abuser or a rapist. She had a little habit of checking almost everyone she met, whether she was going out with them or not. Most terrified her. She read the reviews of other people, feeling sick. *He judges me*. *He resents me*. *He hates the way I laugh*. How could you be yourself around people like that?
But Matt was perfect, he'd have a score of 1000 -
-500.
She felt cold as she saw the number beside his picture. She read the reports of those who had dated him before her, who had tried to love him, her heart racing.
*He said he loved me but really hated everything about me. He made fun of me behind my back. He only dated me to have easy sex, because I was so desperate.*
*I thought he was perfect, but he wore a false face. He will rip out your heart and laugh about it.*
*You're stupid if you think Matt will ever love anything about you.*
*He cheated on me again and again before he killed me.*
*He murdered me. He waited for me in the dark and slid a knife through my ribs. Stay away, stay away, stay away.*
*He killed me, he did. I saw him do it.*
She jumped as someone opened the door downstairs. Matt's cheerful voice rang through the apartment as he made his way towards her.
"Hey, babe! Sally, you here?" he called. "I know we said we'd do date night tomorrow, but I couldn't wait..."
Matt got upstairs and paused as he saw her pale, terrified face. She backed away from him, knocking the chair over in the process.
"Get away from me! Murderer! Murderer!" she screamed.
Matt glanced at the computer and what was open on it. That same bogus website she always used in moments like these. She always saw something different. He wondered briefly what it was this time, but didn't pause to talk about it. He just had to get through to her.
"Sally. Did you take your meds today?" he asked, approaching her slowly.
"Liar! Murderer!" she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. "You've always h-hated me..."
He reached her, fending off her kicks and scratching nails, and drew her into his arms.
"Hey, honey, I'm here. I'm right here," he said, stroking her hair as she pounded her fists against his chest. Like she did every time she forgot.
She quieted down as he called the hospital, and then her psychiatrist. Soon, everything would go back to normal. Maybe they could still watch a movie tonight. It didn't matter whether they watched it here or in a hospital. The important thing was to stay.
"Let's get you some help, huh? I still want my date night," he said, kissing her softly on the forehead.
------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | "It isn't worth it," said Niklas, trying to grab the phone out of my hands. "The terms are trash. You're gonna be miserable. Just sit it out, man."
I pushed him off. He was right - the profile certainly had a *lot* of fine print, and I wasn't thrilled with all the contractual details, but what else was I supposed to do?
"Nik, my L-credit's trash," I said. "The thing with Viv *ruined* me. This is it for me. This is my atonement."
Niklas shook his head. "*Or* just fucking stay out of that shit for a while. It's a demerit-based system, Quinn. Give it time. Five...seven years out from the Viv thing and it'll be like you're starting all over. You can get a nice secured relationship. Someone else looking to raise their score. It's not a big deal."
That just about sealed it for me. "*Seven fucking years?* Are you absolutely mental? I'm not going solo for seven years! I'll be an old, washed up, middle-aged perv by then. It won't matter what my L-credit looks like. No, I've got to do this. I need to start improving my score *now*, so I can trade up to something top tier before I'm too old to start a family."
Niklas drained the last of his coffee and chucked the empty cup into the bin. "You're an idiot. Subprime relationships are a scam. Everyone knows that."
"They're not a scam. It's just a hardship. I'll manage. And as long as I don't fuck up again, I'll be back in the black in a couple years."
"Have fun," said Niklas. "I'm going back to work."
I waved sarcastically. Niklas just didn't understand. In fact, I'm pretty convinced that if you've never had a bad L-credit score, there's no way you *could* understand. Bad L-credit just takes a shit situation and makes it worse. It's a pit. And if you don't get your head out of your ass, you just end up digging deeper and deeper.
And besides, this Rebecca seemed nice enough. Her own L-credit score was mid-range. Respectable. She was only on the subprime list because of her demands. And that's not so bad. Just meant she had standards.
I messaged her. Complimented her profile pictures. Noted I had similar tastes in music and film. Expressed a desire to get a drink sometime.
Her reply was perhaps a bit telling, but fair.
"HOW'D YOU GET SUCH A LOW SCORE? DEETS OR NO GO."
It's hard to explain what happened with Vivian in a single conversation, let alone in a text chat. Like a lot of things in life, it was much more complicated than it seems from a distance.
I replied: "Last GF and I drifted apart. Bad communication. Bad ending."
She replied: "BULLSHIT. YOUR SCORE IS WAY LOW. YOU DID SOMETHING."
And that was true. I made out with Trisha, Vivian's best friend. But like I said, it was complicated.
I replied: "Made mistake. Kissed someone else. Relationship was already dying."
She replied: "YOU SOUND LIKE A WINNER. MAKE IT DINNER. YOU PAY."
I gripped my hands into tight fists. Right. *Atonement.* This is what I deserved.
I replied: "Sounds great. Pick the place."
She replied: "REAL MEN PICK THE PLACE."
Okay. It was going to be fine. All part of the process.
I met Rebecca at a fancy sushi restaurant. I'd offered to pick her up, but she didn't want me to know her address.
"What's with the car?" she asked, as I stepped forward to give her a hug.
"What's...what?"
"I thought you worked in marketing?" said Rebecca. "Your car's like...ten years old."
"Five," I said, pulling absently at the collar of my shirt. "I hear this place is great."
"You've never been?" said Rebecca. "So neither of us will know what we're doing? Great." She stood at the side of the door. Taking the hint, I opened the door for her. "Okay," is all she said to that particular gesture.
I ordered dinner for both of us, as Rebecca only looked at the drink menu. "I don't know sushi," she'd said. "I'm not a huge fan."
"Would you have preferred to go somewhere else?" I asked.
"What difference does that make?" said Rebecca. "We're already here, aren't we?"
I smiled. "Right. Future reference, I guess."
Rebecca excused herself. While she was gone I took out my phone and pulled up my *Karma_Counter* profile. "Up five points," I whispered to myself. So far, so good.
Rebecca tried everything and liked nothing. Her drink was returned twice for being too watered down. She was also unimpressed with my shirt, my haircut, and the way I held my glass of water.
"I don't know," she said. "It's too low on the glass. That's like how little kids hold a glass. I keep thinking you're going to drop it."
I smiled and stopped drinking water for the rest of the meal.
Although she made it very clear that she had a rotten experience, Rebecca agreed to a second date. We met for brunch. She ordered spaghetti, which was very much not on the menu.
We went to a museum for our third date. She took pictures of all the exhibits, even as the unpaid volunteers chasing us around the building told her not to.
"I paid for my ticket," was all she would say when they threatened to have her removed. She did not pay for her ticket.
On it went. And although every day had become a fresh nightmare of debasing text messages and financially crippling outings, my L-credit was on the rise.
"It's not worth it," Niklas said one day after work, as we walked to the gym. "No matter what your score looks like, you're gonna come out of this so damaged it won't matter."
"What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger," I replied.
"Are you a fucking Buddha now?"
"I am beyond Earthly torment."
"We'll see," said Niklas.
And we did see. Almost immediately. Because Rebecca called me while I was at the gym that day, and when I did not answer, she texted me, and when I did not answer she left messages on my various social media platforms. When I did not reply to *those*, Rebecca began a rather impressive social media carpet-bombing campaign, in which what remained of my character was obliterated beyond recognition, while all females in any way connected to my accounts were interrogated and, if they made the mistake of defending themselves or me, called some variation of the word "whore".
It was not an especially pleasant way to come down off a post-workout high.
I called things off with Rebecca. It was not a pleasant break-up. In fact, if my relationship with Rebecca was a time bomb, you could say I'm still finding hidden pieces of shrapnel to this day. She is not someone who lets things go easily.
More atonement, I guess.
My L-credit is, once again, a flaming barrel of baby diapers. Worse, actually, than it was before Rebecca. Niklas was right, which is always a wretched thing to have to admit. But it's fine. I've learned my lesson. No subprime relationships. I'm just going to live with my rotten L-credit. It's not the worst thing in the world.
*Although*...I did just see a new service open up next to the Arby's down on Mallard. *Title Love*, I think it's called. Short-term relationships - they only last until your next paycheck! And they don't even *check* your L-credit!
I mean, obviously I can get by on my own, but some deals are just too good to pass up. |
[WP]: As the crown is lowered upon your head, you grumble in dismay. You didn't want this. You wanted to catch fish. | Light is shining brightly on my eyes; so much so that I almost have to squint. A man is carefully carefully grabbing a crown from the table; a crown that was clearly made for me. I'm blinded, by the light, dazed, dizzy and confused. I don't understand what is happening. I feel like I can't move. How did I end up here? Why?
I just wanted to go fishing! Had I known it'd end up like this, I would never have gone out.
What went wrong? I think back:
*Yesterday I went to the corner store to grab some fishing bait. As I was grabbing the bait, a man behind me pulled out a knife.*
The man with the crown walks towards me. His assistant holds my head.
*"This is a robbery! Everyone show me your hands!" he yelled.*
*So of course, I dropped everything I had in my hands, bait included, and put my hands up. How was I supposed to know the robber had a worm phobia?*
With my head firmly held in place, the man with the crown lowers the crown.
*The bait jar fell, opened up, and spilled worms everywhere. As soon as the robber saw it, he freaked out, and hit me in the face with the back of his switchblade, knocking me out, along with one of my molars!*
And how here I am... That's right! I'm at the dentist! I remember now... It must be the drugs they gave me!
The crown is lowered into my mouth.
edit: typo | My family are all fishermen. Strong men and women with a fierce personality. My first memories are my grandpa whipping me in the back of the head with a mackerel, as he did a fatal death spin with his catch. "Snapping the fish right at the gills," is how he described it. He had whipped me in the water, and while I desperately fought the water, heartily laughed with my two older brothers in tow. Nobody was surprised when I was brought home wet, and my brother's with bushels of fresh fish. My mother patiently pulled the seaweed from my hair, and then told stories of my Dad, who had died at sea at the fisherman life. She thought she was reassuring, but how I wished to catch at least one fish.
But let's fast forward to now.
My name is Sam.
"Fishless Sam," my older brothers chimed in.
No, just Sam. And today, I was going to catch my first fish.
"Or find out that you're adopted."
I shot my brothers the dirtiest look I could think of. They chuckled and dove into the sea, grabbing fish by the tails and throwing them onto the shore, right into the bucket. I sighed.
Today, I was going to catch a fish. Let me introduce my invention. Fisherman 3.6.
I made this beauty yesterday. Superb invention, a combination of a ball shooter, and nets from a spiderman knock-off toy. Hit the button, the red one, out pops the net, that clenches around any moving object. Most especially fish. I sweep my hair to the side, unable to hold off the smirk drawing across my lips.
"Hey Sam, pass me another basket," one of my brother's chimed. The full basket loomed before me, the fish still squirming with life.
Probably because he got a head start. "Just this once," I said, "But today, you're going to have to get your own baskets." Or maybe get baskets for me. I tossed him one, and he shrugged. Maybe too knowingly. Just wait until he saw this.
I tied one end of the rope to the pier, and the other to my waist. Life jackets were not something that I dared to be seen in. We were the top fishermen in the country. But a rope, hidden carefully under the water, was definitely something I wouldn't be self-conscious about. A few tugs and I could pull myself back to shore with this. With my catch. I slapped on my goggles and slowly sunk into the water Fisherman 3.6 in tow.
The fishes past by, plump and waiting, their tails glistening in the sun. I aimed at one, and fired. The net shot out. Closer. Closer.
Yes. It started to close around a fish. Yes. Caught? Probably. The net had mostly closed. Just a tiny opening, and there was no way this fish would escape that. It was a small fish, yes, but, obviously winners can't be choosers sometimes.
I released more air, reaching for my bundle.
A large fish approached, the size of my two feet, and approached it first.
Back off you miserable thing back off, I flailed at the water.
It looked at me. Big black eyes, staring up at me. Its jaw slackened.
No no no no no get off, get your own! I flailed in the water, sinking closer.
It clamped down on my prize, swallowing it, net and all.
I clenched my fist and shot my Fisherman 3.6 at the stupid fish. It looked at me, and gave what looked like a toothy grin, before turning into the deeper sea.
I pulled up for air.
My brother shot me a momentary look, with his fifth bushel bustling with fish.
Perhaps I could just steal the top of his, and at least come home with something?? He was going too fast to notice anyways.
I sighed, and lounged in the water.
"You promised Mom that you would catch something, didn't you?" my brother said.
I pulled my Fisherman 3.6 from the water, and pulled myself to the shore. Why couldn't I fish? I aimed it at the tree in the distance, and shot.
What I didn't know was that the last of the balls had snagged on the internal cannister. I heard a yell as it fired, while I was pushed back in the recoil, and a scream.
I didn't want to find out.
I grabbed Fisherman 3.6 and ran for it. Fisherman 3.6 tugged back at its prize, which was pulled back to me (maybe it was caught on the spring) and now I could see the commotion. A crown. I had stolen the crown. I had to run for it now. That had to start as treason, and because I started running, I couldn't just stop now.
"I guess we'll see you at dinner?" my brother yelled.
I sped through the crowded streets of my village, my feet beating the muddy ground. A woman pointed, a child ducked into the shadows. I ducked behind an alley. "Is that a thief?," I heard someone say.
All I wanted to do was fish. To be a little bit like my Dad, the greatest fisherman, and to bring home fish to my Mom. And Here I was. With a crown. I slipped it on my head. It fit. I already got so far. Maybe I could melt it for Fisherman 4.6. | |
[WP]: As the crown is lowered upon your head, you grumble in dismay. You didn't want this. You wanted to catch fish. | Light is shining brightly on my eyes; so much so that I almost have to squint. A man is carefully carefully grabbing a crown from the table; a crown that was clearly made for me. I'm blinded, by the light, dazed, dizzy and confused. I don't understand what is happening. I feel like I can't move. How did I end up here? Why?
I just wanted to go fishing! Had I known it'd end up like this, I would never have gone out.
What went wrong? I think back:
*Yesterday I went to the corner store to grab some fishing bait. As I was grabbing the bait, a man behind me pulled out a knife.*
The man with the crown walks towards me. His assistant holds my head.
*"This is a robbery! Everyone show me your hands!" he yelled.*
*So of course, I dropped everything I had in my hands, bait included, and put my hands up. How was I supposed to know the robber had a worm phobia?*
With my head firmly held in place, the man with the crown lowers the crown.
*The bait jar fell, opened up, and spilled worms everywhere. As soon as the robber saw it, he freaked out, and hit me in the face with the back of his switchblade, knocking me out, along with one of my molars!*
And how here I am... That's right! I'm at the dentist! I remember now... It must be the drugs they gave me!
The crown is lowered into my mouth.
edit: typo | How on earth am I going to get out of this one? Maybe I could make a run, well, swim, for it? Actually, don’t fancy that – those swordfish on the door look pretty menacing. Although, apparently I am their king now, so maybe they’ll just let me go.
Yeah, sure, maybe they’ll just let me potter out the door; “no problem sir, thanks for stopping by, sorry we dragged you down under the sea, cut gills in your neck and made you our king- it was all a big misunderstanding!” – seems unlikely.
Eurgh, I didn't want this. I wanted to catch fish. I didn't want to kill any of them, least of all their king! I should have put him back in the water quicker but he was a big ol’ bastard, comfortably the biggest fish I've ever caught. And apparently the most important. What kind of stupid society names their king’s murderer as the next king?! How did that become a law?! Surely everyone’s just out to kill the king! It’s unworkable. Maybe I could change that law, now that I'm in charge.
Sorry, no, that’s not what I'm going to do. I'm not going to change the law, I'm going to get the hell out of here, because clearly I've gone insane and am having some sort of breakdown. There is no king of the fish. And if there is, it is definitely not me. Except there isn't a king of the fish is there? You fucking idiot.
Where the hell is my boat by the way? I guess I don’t need it any more, now that I'm king of the fish-people. Is that what they’re called, fish-people? Or am I King of the Fish? Is it just fish? Fishes? Fishi? Fush? Foosh?
Jesus man, concentrate. You can look it up when you get home.
I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here before someone fancies a go at being royalty and takes me out. Let’s hope they have the common decency to wait until after the coronation, that should give me time to think of a plan.
Hey, where did that other swordfish go? The one on the door? There was two a minute ago, now the big one’s gone… What was that noise? Jesus, this is not good. OK, OK, OK relax man, it’s fine. I'm fine. He must have just popped out for a second, that's all. I'm fine. I mean, I've obviously gone insane, but for now I'm fine.
Oh god, I didn't want this; I just wanted to catch fish.
I was supposed to be home hours ago.
My wife’s gonna kill me.
| |
[WP]: As the crown is lowered upon your head, you grumble in dismay. You didn't want this. You wanted to catch fish. | Light is shining brightly on my eyes; so much so that I almost have to squint. A man is carefully carefully grabbing a crown from the table; a crown that was clearly made for me. I'm blinded, by the light, dazed, dizzy and confused. I don't understand what is happening. I feel like I can't move. How did I end up here? Why?
I just wanted to go fishing! Had I known it'd end up like this, I would never have gone out.
What went wrong? I think back:
*Yesterday I went to the corner store to grab some fishing bait. As I was grabbing the bait, a man behind me pulled out a knife.*
The man with the crown walks towards me. His assistant holds my head.
*"This is a robbery! Everyone show me your hands!" he yelled.*
*So of course, I dropped everything I had in my hands, bait included, and put my hands up. How was I supposed to know the robber had a worm phobia?*
With my head firmly held in place, the man with the crown lowers the crown.
*The bait jar fell, opened up, and spilled worms everywhere. As soon as the robber saw it, he freaked out, and hit me in the face with the back of his switchblade, knocking me out, along with one of my molars!*
And how here I am... That's right! I'm at the dentist! I remember now... It must be the drugs they gave me!
The crown is lowered into my mouth.
edit: typo | Disclaimer: I am not sure if this too long or not. Also, the name Midas was chosen randomly, because i found it fitting (and i use my guts when naming people, first name that comes into my mind is the name i will use, unless i am looking for a specific name). Enjoy reading this.
Midas looked in front of himself. This is...not exactly what he wished for, but okay. Moving a bit into the past...
Midas was sitting near a pond and held a fishing rod in his hand. That is what he imagined. In reality, he was sitting on a dusty road and gazed into a puddle with a stick in his hand. He was the town drunk, his wife left him when he beat her one too many times and all he would do was either drink, get into a fight or stare blankly into puddles. Unshaved, dirty clothes, filthy hair, mouth full of yellow teeth. A soldier passed by and kicked him with his steel boot. He passed out and when he opened his eyes, his hands were bloody red, the soldier was bloody red and there was no trace of him being alive. Midas, being a respectable and smart man, dragged the unconscious body into the sewers. After closer inspection, he understood that the soldier is on his last breath. He waited a little bit to check if the soldier is really dead, then looked at his hands. The fingers were dripping with blood, which after cleaning in sewer water he noticed was not his. He gazed blankly at the soldier. This was his time. This time, he would do the right thing. Beat somebody to death without being sentenced to hang. He smiled and nodded his head like a maniac at this great idea...
Midas was shaved, with much cleaner body, whiter teeth and clad in the dead soldiers armour. It was not a good fit, but he was willing to bear it. They were ready for a war. A sword in his right hand and a shield in his left. The lad next to him, probably a good fellow, shaking in his boots. The soldiers were mainly lads or people like him, good for nothings. Cannon fodder. Worth of only weakening the enemy by dying on them. He was told that if he dies, he should bleed at the enemy. But he was not afraid. He was a soldier. And he absolutely did not plan to die in this godforsaken shithole of a battlefield. The horns sounded the start of a battle. He did a wide half grin, which was hidden by his helmet. Either he dies, or they die. He did not expect to run that fast. With a berserker roar, he charged straight at the enemy...
It was a massacre. Not only did he survive, he saved couple of lads around him by protecting them from powerful enemies. He was now holding his fifth sword and probably twelfth shield. The previous ones broke. The commander was already dead, he was among the first ones to die, and now the remains of the army followed his lead. The enemy soldiers were dropping dead in groups, their morale shattered. The ones who were holding out were the fools who did not recognize that Death himself decided to aid Midas and his small group. 100 of soldiers, banded behind Midas against 1000 humans who were awaiting their slaughter...
The war was over as Midas stormed the castle. Midas could hear war drums in his head as he busted through the door to the throne room. The royalty was surrounded by royal guards, who were the elite of elites. Midas armed for another attack, his armour already not being his previous one and the weapons in his hand being ffrom the dead. He clashed his sword with an enemy, but was repelled. The lads behind Midas now charged forward, knowing that Midas would have to be very tired. They pushed the guards into the semi-circle, while Midas caught his balance and more important, breath. He was panting heavilly, he was bleeding from cuts and bruises, he had at least one bone broken, but he still wanted to go further. With a deafening roar that took all of his breath, he charged the biggest guard who easily killed 1/5 of his army. His huge shield tossed aside, he understood Midas, as he also wanted to kill the commander of the enemy. They clashed swords, Midas holding a dead royal guards sword and flailed it like a maniac. 100 soldiers turned into 20 by the time the commander of royal guard fell. Midas was in horrible shape. The armour barely protected him, but he knew that the medics can and will patch him up. The other soldiers were also in bad shape, some missing an arm or bleeding heavilly. The less wounded ones, who still had plenty of cuts and bruises, were treating the badly wounded ones. Midas drank some liquid to numb the pain and decapitated the enemy king. The kings head rolled down the stairs, his crown covered by blood. Midas fell on his knee, unable to keep standing. Suddenly, he felt two hands from his sides and they were dragging him towards the throne...
He was sitting near a pond and held a fishing rod in his hand. That is what he imagined. In reality, he was sitting on a throne and a blood covered crown slowly and shakily descended on his head. He finally snapped from the bloodlust and realized that his life would not be of a fisherman. The lads in front of him...no, these soldiers with impossible luck, chanted his new sobriquet. He sat firmly in the throne while his most serious wounds were treated. He knew...all along...he was no fisherman...he was the Blood King. That is what they yelled. And there would be a lot of blood in his future. | |
[WP]: As the crown is lowered upon your head, you grumble in dismay. You didn't want this. You wanted to catch fish. | "ALL HAIL THE KING!"
Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd. Thousands cried out in joy and celebration. Banners and flags waved as far as I can see, the richest and most beautiful of the court gather around me, showering me with praise and my eyes roll back in my head.
It's such a stupid kingdom. Always going to war, taking treasure and slaves, then being invaded, having to re-take all that land they just conquered for the "pride of the Kingdom". If my older brothers hadn't died leaving me in the lurch, I'd be long gone by now. But here I am, in a city named after granpa, wondering how long I have to stay in these itchy robes. I mean, who cares how they look? You'd think the King could wear something that breaths a little!
A week later the council requested me at a meeting. That toad of my father's, Plork the Minister of War, started. "Sire, we are honored by your acceptance of our humble invitation. Your most resplendent presenc-"
"Yeah, yeah, you can skip that part, why am I here?"
Plork hesitated, nervous. The King's father had men tortured for speaking without the proper courtesy. "Well, my liege. it has been a tradition of the Crown that when a new King rises, they lead our nation to great victories. I, I mean, we were wondering where you intend to invade?"
Damn, I was hoping they'd forget about that. I heard nothing growing up but boring stories about dad's and granpa's Coronation Wars. They'd go on for hours, making me look at all the weapons they captured and hold the skulls of people they killed. Like, why even bring those home? What's the point in a closet full of skulls! I swear, the only time those two ever shut up is when we were fishing.
Looking down at my advisers, I considered Plork's question. "I'll give it some thought." I declared (one thing I do like about being King is everything I say is a declaration).
That night I poured over the maps of the surrounding kingdoms. Maybe Bogsturia? No, definitely not invading anywhere with bugs that big. Fedrelia is, like, 90% desert so I'm not going there. Trecaria is across the sea, Gretonia is too poor, and Qoutan would probably win. Why couldn't I just be out on a boat with no one yammering at me to do things?
I went to bed frustrated. I awoke with an idea. Summoning my advisers to the war room, I gathered them before the great map commissioned by granpa. "There are many nations sharing this land with ours. Many victories have been won from them and many more shall be in the future. Today, I turn the eyes of our nation in a new direction. Towards an unfaced enemy who has mocked our people for centuries!"
The advisers shifted uncomfortably. What enemy was this? Who had they not yet faced?
"And I shall lead us into battle! It shall be my hand that strikes down our most terrible foes. On this day, I King Psaras, First of his Name, declare war on the sea!"
"The uh, sea, my liege? Plork and the other advisers were confused, some looked worried. They'd always thought Psaras was a bit odd and a little soft, but not crazy.
'Yes, the sea! And the creatures hiding within. I leave for the port of Kreppia this very hour. As is tradition, I shall return when my victory is complete."
Plork's eyes roll back in his head. "Well, at least this will keep him out of the way. Shame neither of his brothers lived." | Yea, I didn't really mean for it to come to this. A bit of an exaggerated reaction to what I did, in my honest opinion. Hell, this crown they put on me is really uncomfortable. Especially since it's made of thorns... but where was I? Yeah, it started with me trying to make some friends. Mom was getting a bit pushy. Wanted me to leave the house. She said it was 'unsightly' for a man at the age of 30 to still be living in his parents' home like a caged rat. Anyways, I went out by the bay and decided to yell at some folks and see if they wanted to go fishing. Now I'm not boasting, but I'm a damn good fisherman. I basically get a premonition to where all the fish are. Sometimes I'll be fishing all by myself and catch nothing the whole day, and then I *feel* like I should toss my net to the other side of the boat.
Wham. Couple a hundred of fish.
Anyways, anyways, I'm walking along the beach looking for some fishing guys. I see a pair of fishermen tossing their nets looking all dejected like. Now to explain what happened next, you all need some backstory. I was thinking about whether or not there was some homoerotic stories hidden in my hometown. Like as if someone wrote them and hid them somewhere. I mean, there have to be some stories, right? There's always *that* guy. That creepy person that has arms a *bit* too long and reach his knees.
Regarding the homoerotic story train of thought. I'm not saying that I'm gay. I'm definitely not. One hundred percent straight. Gay people get stoned. And I'm not into that kind of thing.
Ok, so I was thinking about guys writing about man-on-man action. So when I yell at these people fishing, I'm trying to say, "Hey, wanna go fishing for fish?" But instead I stupidly say, "Hey, wanna go fishing for men?"
And for some reason they get all giddy like and jump out of their boat to say "YEAH!" super excitedly. Now, I read 'How to Bullshit Being a Messiah' and I realised that I basically did step one of that book (Step One: make something weird sound normal and profound). Not wanting to look stupid, I went along with it.
I find another group and I ask them, "Wanna go fishing?" Two of them jump out (leaving one poor sap behind) and begin chatting with the other two guys I met earlier. That original pair then say that I'm some really wise teacher, and then the new pair begin saying that I'm so amazing and stuff like that. I felt like hot shit, so I kind of kept going along with the spiel.
Eventually, I walk into a village with these four guys in tow. Then a bunch of sick people come up to me and ask for a bit of healing. I say, "Uuuh, yea, you're healed." And then they all go running and jumping like a did a miracle. I feel bad for lying so I run up to them and say, "Yo, I didn't do anything. You think I healed you. It's just a placebo."
Of course, they then beg me for more placebos. I remember that the four guys I met were eagerly looking at me, and, because I didn't want to look like a loser that messed up a sentence, I tell them, "Yea, you have to believe to be healed." I wiggled my fingers and pretended to cast a spell. This trick worked pretty well for the next three years.
But I'm getting off track. How exactly, you ask, did I get nailed to two slabs of cheap plywood on some hill? Seems like replying to the question 'Are you the Son of God?' with a 'I guess so?' is not a good response. I didn't know it was heretical! Synagogue I went to had this professor that spoke with some thick Roman accent. Couldn't understand crap. I just wanted to look cooler in front of the judge. After all, all the commoners thought I was amazing with the miracle tricks. I thought that spicing that stuff up with God jazz would make me even more amazing!
Ugh. Now I'm gonna die. I really hope the Roman guard I'm dictating this transcript to gets this paper to my disciples. I'd hate to have it left out of some book detailing my life or whatever. Needs the maker's inspirational touch.
| |
The forms were hell to complete, but you handed them in at the reception who promptly took them off of you.
"Wow you've been assigned a class three..." The receptionist stood, evidently in shock.
"A class three? What does that mean?" I said bewildered.
A hesitation, barely noticeable before the receptionist answered.
"Class three's are people of historical importance, I've never seen a class three before... Go through the corridor and take the second left they will tell you who you have... And good luck." | [WP] Turns out death isn't the end, it was a nice surprise to say the least. What you definitely didn't expect was that you had to queue up for "assignment". Something to do with being someone's conscience. | There were so many thoughts. Oh my god.
When I had first died in that hospital bed I had felt myself becoming less orderly, my thoughts spooling out like a ball of yarn. It didn’t feel like I was falling apart or anything, there just seemed to be less neatness to it all. Suddenly my memories were everywhere and inside and outside of me all at once. The first time I’d tasted my mom’s strawberry-rhubarb pie, the time my husband got us kicked out of a movie theatre for convincing me to pelt the couple in front of us with popcorn, the time my daughter couldn’t stop scratching because of her chicken pox and I had to tape oven mitts over her hands, the day I found out it was my boss stealing my lunches at work… all of it, all of it at once, from the extraordinary to the mundane but mostly the mundane. Which made sense since my life, in the grand scheme of things, was fairly mundane.
And now this, this was a similar feeling. This assignment was as if the person I’d been assigned to had a mind as disorganized as my own had become right as I passed from one world to the next.
I didn’t know how to speak… how to figure out what was going on. Who could I talk to? The people- were they people? angels? otherworldly beings? whatever, they were all wearing drab enough office suits that they seemed like mere mortals- they had told me the most useless piece of advice before sending me on my way. Sending me here, into this... brain? mind? consciousness?
They had explained the gist of what I would be doing beforehand and informed me that this particular assignment had been abandoned over 68 times. I asked them the implications of abandoning an assignment… not that I had any intent of doing so, I was just curious.
The drab office people, there were three of them sitting behind a drab-looking table, hands carefully folded in front of them, all tilted their heads in unison. The gentleman (I think it was a male?) on the left said “abandonment is not recommended. We encourage you to do your best with the assignment you’ve been given. You might find that the alternative is not preferable to your arranged assignment.”
My eyebrows knitted together. “What… sorry, what does that mean? Are you saying I’m going to go to hell?”
Not that that was a big deal. My demented grandfather had assured me at the tender age of 10 that all homosexuals wind up in hell. Of course he couldn’t have known his own grandson was one but I supposed I’d made some kind of peace with the notion?
The woman (I think it was a female?) in the middle spoke up. “That is far too reductionist an explanation, Mr. Coleman. We will now be sending you on your way.” She reached in front of her and picked up a small remote that I hadn’t seen before. A feeling of intense panic began to overtake me.
“B-b-but couldn’t you tell me? Who it is? They said you would-“
“I’m afraid we can’t do that with this particular assignment. It may overwhelm you and inhibit your ability to bond.” To bond?! With someone who had been rejected 68 times? Someone who had sent 68 souls to, presumably, hell because their mind was so unbearable to reside in?! The panic became stronger as she fiddled with the remote, not even looking at me anymore.
The man on the far right (pretty sure this one was a male) spoke up. “Mr. Coleman, one last piece of advice- Connect with the thoughts to connect with the world.”
And then I was here. In this bedlam of half-finished thoughts, mixed with angry, disorganized, long monologues and the occasional profanity.
“CUNT!!!” If I’d had a physical body I would have jumped at the outburst.
What the hell did ‘connect with the thoughts to connect with the world’ mean?! The feeling of panic was starting to become monumental. I tried to focus in on something, anything. I attempted to zero in on any semblance of a train of thought but they all derailed and crashed into other angry rantings floating around.
Was this hell? Being inside this mind?
I couldn’t just resign myself to this. I had to find something, anything to hold onto. I strained my ears- or I suppose I strained my disembodied listening abilities- and found it. A tiny kernel of gentle tone.
“My little girl… my beauty”. I gripped onto it with whatever force I could muster. That is what I would hold on to. It seemed as soon as I anchored myself to that thought, something began bleeding in. A slight… visual.
I could see in front of me flashes of light accompanied with clicking sounds and another voice echoing into the space.
That’s what it must be, I suppose. Connecting to this person’s thoughts gave me the ability to connect to their senses. Still holding onto the gentle words from earlier I attempted to take in the thoughts pouring in.
“CUNT!!!!!” Another outburst and I almost dropped the thought I’d been holding. I presumed this person was currently agitated with their present company.
“Look, having nuclear…. good genes, very good genes, okay, very smart… the power and that was 35 years ago… my uncle…”
I couldn’t figure out what on earth this person was talking about but the tinny quality of the statement floating around me versus the pressing quality of all the other input told me that this was a past memory?
My ability to see the world became somewhat clearer. I was right, it was a past memory. I began to feel slightly elated. My work on the earth had been as IT support and while most who work in the field complain about how the average person’s ignorance around IT is infuriating I found it satisfying to find solutions to problems. This was like that, familiarizing myself with the operating system. I was figuring my way out. Maybe this wasn’t so bad?
I could hear talking, it sounded similar to the way you hear words when someone is in another room. It’s slightly muffled but you can make out the cadence and volume fairly decently if not the exact words. Okay then, seemed like this was the present and it would take a bit more focusing on my part to connect with it.
I continued focusing, holding on with all my might to the two thoughts I’d been able to bear to make contact with.
Words began slipping in; I could make out two or three at a time.
“I have much better… I also have a much better temperament… hundreds of millions of dollars…”
Focus. Harder. I would have gritted my teeth at this point if I had any.
“I think my strongest asset, maybe by far is my temperament, I have a winning temperament, I know how to win. She does not.” The words filled me with a sense of egotistical pride I’d never once in my mortal life been puffed up with.
The world came into full view and suddenly I was looking at a familiar face. Who was that? Was.. that… Hillary Clinton?!
I knew it before the next words came out of my assignment’s mouth. The pompous tone, the stewing anger, the internal outbursts.. oh my god.
It’s Donald Trump. And I’m his conscience.
| “Au nom du Père, du Fils et du Saint-Esprit…”
What the hell? This woman is not even English!
Guys! Guys! You made a mistake! This might be a class three, as you call it, but first it’s a woman so let’s be honest, this is probably not an important person.
Hello? Is she talking to me? Hello? Hallo? Hola? Ciao? Bonjour?
“Oh la la… blah blah blah…” (This is my own transcription).
Oh dear god. She’s French. A class three? A French woman? Are you kidding me?!
Well. Let’s do this. BONJOUR!
“Ah! Blah blah blah!” (same here)
I don’t understand French, my love. Could you speak English please?
“Ah! Blah blah blah!” (and here too)
Uhh. ANGLAIS. ANGLAIS sivouplai!
“Ahhhhhhh!”
Oh lord. She is screaming now.
“Oh non! Non! Non!” (I am becoming so good at transcription, aren’t I?)
“Oh mon dieu! Dieu est anglais!” (Sorry, I do transcription, not translation and I have no idea what she’s on about.)
Uh… Hello?
I think she fainted. Dear lord. This is going to be hard work.
________________________________________________________
I thought I had a good idea and then... It did not transcribe well into words so I'd rather stop here before it becomes worse! |
How does the conversation go down? | [WP] One of your co-workers is jokingly referred to as the "knows everything" guy. As you talk to him you realize that he REALLY does know EVERYTHING. | "Fucker thinks he knows everything." Lester was still offended at what Ben said. Of course, he has been mostly right on most things.......Now that I think about it, he was literally right about everything.
"What if he does know everything?" I half joked, still kind of entertaining the absurd possibility.
"Ha." Lester finished his sandwich and was about to walk off.
"I mean, he is right about a lot of things. I haven't seen him being wrong. Actually like. Ever."
He gave me a look. Probably wondering if I was serious.
"Yeah, I am serious, let's go ask him about the number of some lottery ticket."
"I have better things to do."
"Come on, won't take a second, I am bored anyways, besides have you literally see him being wrong? No matter how condescending you think he says it, I have never seen him wrong. Let's just see him wrong for once and not being a know-it-all for the sake of it."
"He must have been wrong in his life, if he really did know everything, he wouldn't need to work here. You know what? Just to see him squeal, I will search up some complicated unsolve Math equations just to prove to you how absurd it is for someone to know everything."
"Sure, let's do it, but how do you know if the equation he pulls out of his ass is even right?"
"Okay, whatever, the lottery then."
We got to Ben's cubicle and he was sorting out his files.
"Hey, Ben, me and Lester here was just joking about how you know everything. Can you tell us today's lottery number?"
Ben smiled at us with that condescending look again.
"What is this lottery?"
He really is mocking us. Lester flipped him off and walk away.
"It's like a system where a random number gets a prize. At least tell me when you were ever wrong."
"I don't know. I don't think what I will was ever wrong."
"What?"
"Lottery doesn't exist. I don't know what you are talking about." He said to me with that condescension again. He was really starting to get on my nerves.
"All right. All right. I will show you." I searched it on my phone. There was nothing shown, the combination of word apparently made no sense to the search engine. Then I tried Yahoo, there was nothing again. The word didn't exist on the dictionary either. | "So eeeh, that along with the logitudanl thrust on the bearing shaft right there, means that using just a few batteries, some wire, and a coaster, you can make anti-gravity a reality within a small area"
"How do you know that?"
"Got a few scientists in the family. Family of deep thinkers"
"Thats amazing"
"Yup. Well, time to clock off. I'm going to the bar"
"Okay, see you later Cliff, say hi to Norm for me" |
[WP] You mispronounce a word from your school text book and summon an ancient deity. | 'What was this word?' I thought. 'Did the teacher actually expect me to say this word out loud?' "E-U-O-U-A-E," I spoke out the letters somewhat timidly.
"John, you stupid child, please SAY the word, this will be on your spelling test next week so I expect everyone to know how it's pronounced."
What a jerk, I'd thought. It was always me, she had always picked on me. It had been like that since the beginning of that awful year. "My, my, John, always the idiot, aren't you?" "Look at all his stupid doodles, class!" "Come now, John, you can't even pronounce responsibility? How irRESPONSIBLE of you!" It was like she was a bully in a teacher's wardrobe. The class always laughed, whether out of necessity or true enjoyment of my torture, I don't know, but still it hurt. I didn't even know why she singled me out, there were very clearly less gifted kids in the class than me. I had begun to get ever so frustrated.
I cleared my throat and started again. "Yu, ohayyu, ayeey..." I could hear some students quietly chuckle, and I saw the teacher holding back one of her stupid grins. I could tell that I butchered it, and just plopped my head down on the textbook. I could feel a small tear fall from my face and land on the paper.
And then it happened. A force, a wave, powerful and malevolent in its aura, pushed my head off the page to the back of my chair, and moved the students sitting around me backwards or forwards. The walls, windows, and bookshelves crumbled at the mere presence of the power. I could hear the cracking of bones as the students' slammed on their desks or chairs. I saw slight puddles of crimson leak onto the floor. My eyes slowly and painfully turned to the book that had expelled the sudden burst of energy. A verdant circle, littered with countless symbols and shapes indeterminable, had drawn itself in my textbook. It was shaking with a kind of liveliness that was disturbing. I grew ever more terrified as I began to notice just how many of my classmates' bodies had stopped moving. Those who hadn't died were either crying and screaming in horrid disbelief, or staring at me in stunned terror.
Suddenly, a grotesquely pale arm, covered in chains, scars, and all manners of glowing marks, reached through the now torn pages of the textbook, and grabbed onto the edge of my desk. Another arm found its way through and, with the other arm, pulled the rest of the figure through the circle. The being that had come through, it was... something that I couldn't even begin to imagine existing. It towered over everyone, and was at least 10 feet tall, tearing the ceiling as it simply stood in the room. Its body was incredibly muscular and it wielded what I could only assume was a sword, blood red and bearing many cracks. It wore a rusted helmet, with only glowing magenta eyes being visible from its face. Some students screamed, but I merely sat there.
The creature turned its veiled face to me and eyed me strangely.
"You are the one who summoned me. I am the Ancient One, Yuohayyuayeey, and I am indebted to you for freeing me from my slumber. I will grant your wish."
"My... wish...?" I spoke slowly, unsure how I was even able to open my mouth next to such an imposing death machine.
"You need not tell me, I can feel your thoughts and desires flow into my mind. Wait here." My eyes widened, and I noticed the teacher who now had turned her back to what was left of the chalkboard. Yuohayyuayeey began to sluggishly make his way towards the teacher, shaking the earth with each step. The teacher was frozen in place, and kept her ground. Yuohayyuayeey raised his crimson sword as he neared closer.
"J-J-John! W-What is the meani-" The teacher's comment was cut off as the elder being's sword plunged deep into her chest and through the wall she was leaning on. The image of her lifeless eyes drained of all of the malice they once exuded at me and her disgusting mouth stuck open etched itself into my mind, and I began to vomit on what was left on my desk. The students who'd survived the previous ordeal had already run far, far away.
"I have granted your wishes of vengeance and sorrow," Yuohayyuayeey, stated, booming and rumbling the room as he spoke. No, this wasn't what I wanted, I thought, this... was something... I'd never desired. I suppose I was foolish and unknowing of my true hatred as a human. Yuohayyuayeey stared at me, and I stared at the bloody mess that was once my teacher. I cried, once more, and bathed in the sins of everyone that was once there, as well as myself.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've been sitting in this destroyed classroom for five hundred years. The bodies of the others have long since decayed. No one has bothered approaching this sorrowful display, for fear of themselves meeting the same fate as the deceased. I had learned to cut off my thoughts from my 'protector', as if he caught even one bit of my infinite malice he'd act upon it and grant a scarlet dream I didn't know I'd dreamed. I decided I'd once again try my hand.
"Yuohayyuayeey, please end me."
"You know I cannot grant that wish, my duty is to protect you for eternity."
"Then we'll sit here forever. Is that what you want?"
"If it is your wish, then so be it, my liege."
"It is not my wish."
"Then, what do you will?"
"Kill me."
"I cannot grant that wish."
I buried my disgustingly wrinkled face in my blood-soaked hands, again, and cried for the one hundred thousandth time. | *Otorhinolaryngologist.*
I read the word.
I read it again.
"Go on. Say the word, I know you can."
"Uh... I'm really not sure about it, Miss Shurbin."
"Nonsense. Every prospective eighth grader should know how to say otorhinolaryngologist."
I gulped.
I opened my mouth.
I said a word, and that word was most certainly not otorhinolaryngologist.
There was a great rumble, and suddenly the ceiling tore asunder, followed shortly by the sky itself. A being passed through the tear. A crawling mass of tentacles, eyes, and claws, an eldritch horror from beyond human comprehension. A million mouths opened, and a billion teeth gnashed as it spoke.
***"WHO DARES TO SUMMON ME?"***
The voice reverberated throughout the classroom, coming from everywhere at once.
Miss Shurbin sighed.
"Go back to sleep, Otoringhiuolirangis. One of my students just said your name again."
***"I PLACE A CURSE UPON THEE FOR DISTURBING MY SLUMBER, YOUR SOUL SHALL WRITHE IN AGONY FOR MILLENIA AS-"***
"Oh, stuff it, and stop scaring my class."
***"CAN YOU JUST TRY TO GET THEM TO PRONOUNCE IT BETTER? GO SYLLABLE BY SYLLABLE AT LEAST? I'D LIKE FOR MY ETERNAL SLUMBER TO ACTUALLY BE, YOU KNOW, ETERNAL.***
"Sorry, Otoringhiuolirangis. I'll try to not let it happen again. Have a good sleep."
***"FROM THIS DAY FORTH, I SHALL SLEEP FOREVER MORE, LEST SOME FOOL SAY MY NAME. ON THAT FATEFUL DAY, FIRE WILL RAIN FROM THE HEAVENS AND-"***
"Just go to bed, alright?"
***"SORRY."***
And just like that, the sky resealed itself, and the voice was gone.
"Back to our lesson. Now, the word is *otorhinolaryngologist,* pronounced oto, rhino, laryn..." | |
[WP] Transhuman prosthetics take off in the late 2050s. A man with terminal brain cancer becomes the first person to have their brain fully replaced with a synthetic one. After the surgeries' success, an international public debate begins: are we speaking to a machine with a dead man's memories? | On the nature of Consciousness.
Archived post from R/Neuroscience, dated 10/04/2057
Thanks to recent advances in Nanotechnology, we are finally able to alleviate congenital heart deformities, repair shattered bones and even close wounds without sutures or scarring.
Recently, a man with Early Onset Alzheimer's volunteered to become a test subject of a bold new treatment;
Each neuron in his brain was replaced by a nanite that copied the connections of each neuron.
Over the course of two years, his brain was completely replaced by a mass of pseudo neurons.
In 2055, the treatment was finished and deemed a success, but sparked a moral uproar as a single question was echoed all over the world:
Is this the same man? Or merely a simulated personality?
Though we've made great bounds in terms of consciousness research, it still remains quite a mystery, but this specific case can be solved quite easily if we look at an old philosophical paradox:
The Ship of Theseus.
Over time, the wooden planks that made up the ship decayed and were replaced individually.
After a century, the ship had not a single part in it that was a part of the original ship.
The question then is:
Is this is the same ship Thesseus sailed from Crete to Athens?
On the surface, it would appear to be that the answer is "No".
However, looking more closely, the first "new" plank was a part of the ship when it sailed again from Athens to Sparta (An example).
As this new plank made this voyage, it could now be considered a part of the same ship.
Suppose that a single plank is replaced each time a trip is made, and the ship made enough trips for every single plank to be replaced, we have at least 1 plank that is still a part of the original ship.
A modern and reverse example would be the "Transporter" from an old TV show called "StarTrek".
In the show, characters would step into a pod that would scan them down to the quantum state of each subatomic particle, disassemble them and then reassembled at the destination.
The end result in both examples is the same, however, in the second example there is no continued experience of consciousness.
In the transporter example, a character ceases to exist, for no matter how brief a period.
In the second example we can conclude that the character in question is a clone of the one that stepped into the transporter, and not the original being.
Brain scans, and later downloaded data streams from the pseudo neurons, of the subject corroborate this:
He remained conscious throughout the entire procedure.
Therefore, it was concluded that the subject IS the original subject. | Alex slowly looked at his new watch. Five minutes till 10. Five minutes till the news conference that he had been preparing for, or trying to prepare for, since he woke up two months ago. As he stood on the dark stage, behind the heavy curtain, his synthetic brain begin to worry again.
One would think that someone with a perfectly crafted machine for a brain would no longer suffer from indecision and uncertainty. And yet he had, over these last two months, as he tried to understand who he was and what he had become. Was he still human? Was this brain implant no different from a heart implant? Or had he and science inadvertently crossed some mysterious point of no return?
These thoughts had especially troubled Alex because the Doctors had told him he'd be famous and popular for the rest of his life after the operation. After living forty lonely years in the quiet woods of North Georgia, he couldn't imagine anything that he wanted more than the friendly affection of good people. And so he agreed to the operation with all his heart and soul.
But, if he didn't know if he was still human, how could he expect others to have an informed opinion? And if the rest of the world did not know what to think of him, how could he find and build the real friendships that he so desperately still wanted?
Alex looked at his watch again. Two minutes till 10.
And then one early morning, the answer slowly appeared out from the quiet morning mist. He was still human precisely because he still suffered from uncertainty and indecision. "A computer just knows", he began to whisper like a mantra after this revelation to soothe his frequent fears, "I do not simply know, therefore I am not a computer."
But could he convince the rest of the world to believe him? Or would they think it was all an "act" by him, *the computer*, to appear more human? He quickly repeated the mantra again.
This line of reasoning had become so integral to his new identity that the mantra was the first line of his speech...a speech he had agonized over for weeks, a speech on a piece of paper now embarrassingly crumbled in his dirty, sweaty hands.
"Where's the computer!?", someone jeered from the other side of the heavy curtain.
He looked at his watch. He was late. It was 10:01.
The event manager quietly walked over to him.
"What are you waiting for? Go on, I'm sure everything will be fine", she said sweetly.
"She looks friendly. Maybe I'll find someone like her to be my friend," Alex thought. He smiled quickly at her, repeated the mantra one more time, and pushed through the curtain.
The event manager rushed over and whispered to her friend:
"God it's so creepy! There's no way that's still a human. Reminded me of my Windows machine frozen in a reboot cycle! I think I had to wake it up!"
| |
[WP] Transhuman prosthetics take off in the late 2050s. A man with terminal brain cancer becomes the first person to have their brain fully replaced with a synthetic one. After the surgeries' success, an international public debate begins: are we speaking to a machine with a dead man's memories? | On the nature of Consciousness.
Archived post from R/Neuroscience, dated 10/04/2057
Thanks to recent advances in Nanotechnology, we are finally able to alleviate congenital heart deformities, repair shattered bones and even close wounds without sutures or scarring.
Recently, a man with Early Onset Alzheimer's volunteered to become a test subject of a bold new treatment;
Each neuron in his brain was replaced by a nanite that copied the connections of each neuron.
Over the course of two years, his brain was completely replaced by a mass of pseudo neurons.
In 2055, the treatment was finished and deemed a success, but sparked a moral uproar as a single question was echoed all over the world:
Is this the same man? Or merely a simulated personality?
Though we've made great bounds in terms of consciousness research, it still remains quite a mystery, but this specific case can be solved quite easily if we look at an old philosophical paradox:
The Ship of Theseus.
Over time, the wooden planks that made up the ship decayed and were replaced individually.
After a century, the ship had not a single part in it that was a part of the original ship.
The question then is:
Is this is the same ship Thesseus sailed from Crete to Athens?
On the surface, it would appear to be that the answer is "No".
However, looking more closely, the first "new" plank was a part of the ship when it sailed again from Athens to Sparta (An example).
As this new plank made this voyage, it could now be considered a part of the same ship.
Suppose that a single plank is replaced each time a trip is made, and the ship made enough trips for every single plank to be replaced, we have at least 1 plank that is still a part of the original ship.
A modern and reverse example would be the "Transporter" from an old TV show called "StarTrek".
In the show, characters would step into a pod that would scan them down to the quantum state of each subatomic particle, disassemble them and then reassembled at the destination.
The end result in both examples is the same, however, in the second example there is no continued experience of consciousness.
In the transporter example, a character ceases to exist, for no matter how brief a period.
In the second example we can conclude that the character in question is a clone of the one that stepped into the transporter, and not the original being.
Brain scans, and later downloaded data streams from the pseudo neurons, of the subject corroborate this:
He remained conscious throughout the entire procedure.
Therefore, it was concluded that the subject IS the original subject. | "Fuck the media!" Robert yelled at his wife.
For the past six months hundreds of reporters and data miners camped on his lawn eager to get even an inkling of a sighting. The cops had given up two months in, the city sent him a letter suggesting a private security force but it's fee was well beyond his limits.
"Maybe if you just gave them an interview, Rob." Sheila pleaded pouring herself a glass of of water and adding a vodka tablet, it fizzed in the silence.
Robert made his way from the couch to the dining table and sat next to her, he could tell she was at the end of her rope. He reached out and grasped her hand as she drank the vodka.
"I'm sorry hun, I'm just stressed the fuck out, you would imagine by now they would have given up hope. I'm under contract. I couldn't give them two words if I wanted to. Plus with Chris gone I don't know how to block the data junkies from stealing the lo fi signal and there's like fifty of them out there and they take up all the bandwidth. I really want to watch season two, it was my father's favorite show and with the surgery I could not be there with him when he passed."
Sheila inhaled sharply and rested her head in the crook of Robert's arm.
"Whats wrong with the copy from the library media archive?" she asked him.
"It's scratched to shit and the data is corrupt it starts skipping like two minutes into the first episode. The other discs are like that too." Robert said in a dulcet tone taking the drink from her hand and sipping it.
"I thought you can't drink." Sheila stated with a slight worry in her voice.
"The surgeon said I should not drink, something about a sodium bridge and neural pathways. Fuck him and the media." Robert laughed and took another sip.
Robert pulled her in closer smelling her hair, the familiar scent of her lilac shampoo always made him feel at ease. He often questioned if it was truly him gathering a collective of memories or if he was just more stupid than his brain thought he was. Without the inhibitor he felt retarded when the id took over, like the shitty kid on the sidelines of a highschool basketball team. He knew things were happening but he could not explain half of it.
Something in him just snapped, when he was younger this often happened, when obstacles prevented him from reaching a goal he would sometimes cheat. He stood up and walked to the door.
"Robert?" Sheila questioned.
Robert clinched the door handle and twisted it open, he was greeted with a thousand flashes from digital cameras and drones hovering above him.
"Please back up and stop taking photos." He yelled into the crowd of blinding faces.
It took a few seconds but they listened the flashes stopped but the discombobulated noise continued.
"Shut the fuck up please!" he yelled again into the mob of blurred faces and video equipment.
The voices stopped one by one and it made him feel comically powerful, and he couldn't help but laugh.
"Are you going to say something?" one of the reporters asked from a distance, and at that moment Robert could collectively hear every one of their sphincters tighten. He laughed at this image too.
"Yes. During my procedure my father died in the Flatfield Nursing Center, his favorite show..." Robert felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and held back tears as his eyes welled. Images of his father mentoring him in his youth invaded his mind, the time at Lake Michigan when he was first taught to worm a hook. The awkward angst of having to learn how to ride a bike after his friends had already mastered it. His first beer sitting around the plasma enjoying old shows like Game of Thrones, but there was one they never got to watch together that Robert could never find the time for.
"Could someone please get me the second fucking season of The fucking Wire for fuck's sake? The first network to bring me a copy will get an exclusive."
Then all hell broke loose. | |
[WP] Transhuman prosthetics take off in the late 2050s. A man with terminal brain cancer becomes the first person to have their brain fully replaced with a synthetic one. After the surgeries' success, an international public debate begins: are we speaking to a machine with a dead man's memories? | On the nature of Consciousness.
Archived post from R/Neuroscience, dated 10/04/2057
Thanks to recent advances in Nanotechnology, we are finally able to alleviate congenital heart deformities, repair shattered bones and even close wounds without sutures or scarring.
Recently, a man with Early Onset Alzheimer's volunteered to become a test subject of a bold new treatment;
Each neuron in his brain was replaced by a nanite that copied the connections of each neuron.
Over the course of two years, his brain was completely replaced by a mass of pseudo neurons.
In 2055, the treatment was finished and deemed a success, but sparked a moral uproar as a single question was echoed all over the world:
Is this the same man? Or merely a simulated personality?
Though we've made great bounds in terms of consciousness research, it still remains quite a mystery, but this specific case can be solved quite easily if we look at an old philosophical paradox:
The Ship of Theseus.
Over time, the wooden planks that made up the ship decayed and were replaced individually.
After a century, the ship had not a single part in it that was a part of the original ship.
The question then is:
Is this is the same ship Thesseus sailed from Crete to Athens?
On the surface, it would appear to be that the answer is "No".
However, looking more closely, the first "new" plank was a part of the ship when it sailed again from Athens to Sparta (An example).
As this new plank made this voyage, it could now be considered a part of the same ship.
Suppose that a single plank is replaced each time a trip is made, and the ship made enough trips for every single plank to be replaced, we have at least 1 plank that is still a part of the original ship.
A modern and reverse example would be the "Transporter" from an old TV show called "StarTrek".
In the show, characters would step into a pod that would scan them down to the quantum state of each subatomic particle, disassemble them and then reassembled at the destination.
The end result in both examples is the same, however, in the second example there is no continued experience of consciousness.
In the transporter example, a character ceases to exist, for no matter how brief a period.
In the second example we can conclude that the character in question is a clone of the one that stepped into the transporter, and not the original being.
Brain scans, and later downloaded data streams from the pseudo neurons, of the subject corroborate this:
He remained conscious throughout the entire procedure.
Therefore, it was concluded that the subject IS the original subject. | "Among you, who has forgotten a fact of your childhood?
"Is the fact dead, or did you die when the fact left?
"Who here wants to volunteer what happened to them on April 22nd, last year--or any year? Who reached back and found this memory without the aid of cybernetics? When you outsourced this fact to your Oracular, did you die when the fact left?
"Like the rest of you, I chose to die without really having much choice in the matter at all. Those of you who believe my soul was lost when my tissue was excised? I have no answer for you.
"You. How is your stomach feeling? How are the 100 million neurons in your gut doing? Mine are doing fine, just like yours. They would have rotted away and died with the rest of me, had my brain been left to its own devices. As I speak, they gleefully assist in the pulverizing of grape Jell-O, which is all the nurses let me eat today.
"I live on or I die, same as you. The innumerable cells that we destroy in the wake of our own humanity sometimes revolt against us. They become cancerous and do not serve on behalf of our existence, but their own. They have no consciousness, but their rules were garbled like a bad Telephone Game.
"I have reached twenty-four years, a very temporary age. Like many of you, I want to live into my nineties. After one crack in my insulation in a bad shower, that dream evaporates. I remain fragile.
"'One way or another, no matter which theory of our journey is correct, it's myself I address; to whom I rehearse as to a stranger our history and condition, and will disclose my secret hope.'
"I still w-"
Man and machine began to twitch, then convulse. Knees buckled. Eyes swung around wildly.
A few keystrokes later, Dr. Shajara rose from his desk and started towards the hospital cafeteria, a studied, blank expression on his face. He preferred patients who could *just shut up* until the spotlight fell elsewhere. | |
[WP] unemployed, underachieving, and unmotivated. You sit in your house day after day not a care in the world, but for sleeping, eating, and watching tv. After months of solitude, a knock on the door of your tiny studio apartment. It's God, he is over worked and wants to switch places for a bit. | "Okay," God said, "here's the deal: You get to be all knowing, all powerful, all etc etc etc, and I get to actually take a freaking break."
"I mean, that sounds good," I said.
"Great, now just go up to heaven and wait."
"What's the catch?" I asked.
"Catch?" God said, poorly concealing that there was in fact a catch. "What catch?"
"Come on, man," I said. "There's always a catch."
"Well," God said, "you may have to appear in some humiliating stories in /r/WritingPrompts from time to time."
"Uh-huh. And just how often is 'from time to time'."
God coughed into his hand, trying to cover up the fact that he was also saying "on a daily basis."
"Daily? Come on, people who submit to /r/WritingPrompts are more original than to submit prompts about God on a *daily* basis," I said.
"I didn't believe it either," God said, "even the moderators of the sub don't think it happens that often. But you don't have to take my word for it, you can do a search. [This is what my Sunday looked like](http://i.imgur.com/qvZR5f8.png)."
"Yeah," I said, "I'm not going to take over for that. Good luck with someone else."
God frowned. "I don't think you understand. That wasn't a *request*. You, Todd, are as of this moment, the God of Slackers, and you're appearing in the [next God prompt I see!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/55zya5/wp_a_few_years_ago_god_made_7_humans_new_gods_to/d8f999s)"
| "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'NO'?" He roared.
"Well, I like my life as it is, and I wouldn't trade it away. Not even for the power of a God."
"What? You think you're living this carefree life on your own credit? You think you earned the easy life yourself? HAH. Who did you think conveniently left a $50 in your pocket for you to find when you were ass broke last week? Or that time the pizza boy 'mistakenly' delivered to your address instead? You are but a sheep I reared to take my place when I needed a break!"
"Fine, fine. I'll do it. Just for a week right?" I shrugged my shoulders. I guess it would be interesting to try out the powers of a god for a week.
"About time. Now, you step of the apartment, and I'll go in. The moment the door closes, all my powers will switch over to you, and this will automatically revert in a week's time, got it? I expect to see the world as it is now by then."
He pulled me out by the collar and slammed the door in my face.
I started getting a migraine. Billions of voices flowed through my head. My head felt heavy. The information was too much for my brain to take in.
-
I woke up. I was in a convenience store. The place looked like a tornado came through. I looked up at the calendar hanging at the counter.
6 days.
It had been 6 days since I took the position of God. I ran out of the shop. As far as my eyes could see, buildings were demolished, cars were burning, people were crying.
"Oh Lord."
World War 3 had begun.
| |
[WP] The Glasses of Ranvier allow you to soul-gaze, so you can literally figure-out someone's goals and intentions by looking into their eyes. You've seen good people, bad people, and downright disgusting individuals. Today, you find a fourth category... | I've seen though many people in the time I've lived. I've tested these glasses to the point where I can nearly guarantee that they never have failed to tell me a person's intentions. These glasses have saved me from situations where I most definitely would've been unable to read a person's true intentions. I've saved people from others because I was able to read these goals so perfectly. There are always good people in this world, I've seen them. The ones with good intentions always in mind to try and be the best they can. There's also the other side of the coin, the scum of the planet. They're terrible people, but it also gets worse. There's just people who seem to live on another plane from us. They're the cream of the crop when it comes to garbage. I don't know how they keep sane with such cruel intentions in mind, but I don't try too hard to live in their minds.
It's been a long while since I've added new categories to the little system I sort people into. They're either good, bad, or terrible, it's a simple system, and it works. Today would be the day I had to add a new one, one that I never would've imagined could've existed. It was on the way to my college. I was just off the train that's near the entrance and was about to head to my first class, but I saw something of interest... interest is a bad word for it, it was something I don't want to see again. There was a crowd of people around the main entrance of the school. This alone was something strange due to the fact that there was no special event today. I went over and noticed they were all looking upwards. As I walked, I looked up to where they were, and time seemed to slow.
Someone was standing there, on the edge of the roof, with his arms out to form a cross shape with his body. It was obvious what he was going to do from there. I looked to the crowd and could see people on their phones, calling people, taking pictures, all stuff that's to be somewhat expected in this day and age. I snapped out of my frozen state and time went back to normal. I started running towards the building, glancing to the person and to the place where they might land. They were too far for me to gaze at them, so I had to just run. I got closer as off the man went, straight off the edge.
Time seemed to slow as I realized I definitely wasn't going to make it. I didn't have time to check if anyone else was going to catch him, but my body kept running while I stared at him. I looked as I realized something. Something bonechilling to me, he was happy. There was no intention to do anything special in his very existence, he was just experiencing pure bliss without the faintest sign of a smile on his face. I slowed my run as I saw him reach closer to the floor and I had to look away before anything else happened. In that very moment, I realized something. Not everyone is good, bad, or terrible, there's a special fourth section, and he's currently the only one in there. Sometimes, once in a blue moon, people are just empty of intentions. They've given up, and they don't want anything anymore. I could've made it if I had just ran a little faster... | I stared at him. That couldn't be right. I mean how would that even work? But there it was, clear as day. I had thought that I understood how it worked; there are good people and there are bad people. Sometimes *REALLY* bad people. That's it. But the glasses never lie. I'd found something impossible.
A person without a soul. | |
[WP] You and a friend are about to enter the scariest Haunted House in the country. Everything is going fine until you realize one of the fake bodies is your little sister who went missing years ago. | Rick was my Halloween buddy. He and I were neighbors when we were kids, and used to best friends. When my family moved to another neighborhood, we drifted away from each other. We were still in the same school, but we didn't hang out with the same people. However, every Halloween we would meet up again. We had first met on a Halloween years ago, and the tradition had stuck since then. We would dress up in scary costumes and go trick-or-treating one year in his neighborhood, the next in mine.
Sometimes one of us brought along some other friends, but we both agreed this was less fun. When it was just the two of us we would prank other kids and have an overall great time. In preparation for this we would visit every Haunted House in town, to steal prank or costumes ideas more than for the thrills. Our friends may not have known but we were the Halloween Kings of Summerville. Some of our feats had anonymously passed down into the town's legends, such as the fake burning car stunt.
This year was our senior year. Our last Halloween together at home. We wanted to make it especially great. In fact we were hoping to make our own haunted house. We needed a location though. Our parents were not too keen on hearing kids scream all night long, so using our own houses was ruled out. We were therefore hunting for locations.
One evening, Rick pulled up in his old Honda Civic by my house, telling me he had found a great place. I jumped in one let him show the building in question. It was at an old cottage at the end of a street with no other issue. The yard was completely overgrown, and even the trees had overgrown and were clouding the house's face in a most sinister manner. There was a shattered window on the right of the door, replaced a couple of rotten planks forming an X across the frame.
"Come on", said Rick, turning off the engine and opening the door, "Let's go."
"Wait a second, you don't want to go in there do you?", I replied, following him out.
"Sure, why not? It's the perfect place for us."
"That's someone's *property*!"
"Well, the guy who lived there died seven years ago, and he didn't leave no family to live there. Stop fussing, let's check it out!"
He hopped the fence and set out to examine the open window. I glanced around nervously and followed his steps. Wrestling with the planks, Rick managed to break one and remove the other. There was enough room to hoist yourself up and into the house. Rick did just that, and I was obliged to do so as well, but not before looking back to the street one last time.
The room we were in was almost completely empty, with the exception of a chest of drawers and an old armchair both covered in dust. It was square shaped, the wall to our right had another window with the shutters closed, and the there were two doors, both closed as well, one facing us and the other on our left. It was very dark, as you would expect, but Rick had turned the flashlight on his phone and was having a look around. A gust of fresh air had followed our intrusion, but the place still smelled of rotting wood and moisture.
I had felt a certain nervousness when first entering the premises, but now the knot in my stomach was beginning to fade and curiosity was taking over. I walked over to the furniture and opened a drawer. Rick leaned in to give me some light, but visibly was eager to explore more first. The first drawer was empty, but I had to let out a gasp upon opening the second. Within were two objects only: a large butcher's knife and a small mugshot of an old, bald man. The photograph was rather dusty, but the knife wasn't, although this didn't alarm me immediately.
"Look at this", I told Rick, who hadn't been watching.
"Whoa that's a bit creepy to be lying around here", he answered, but didn't seem to perturbed, "let's have a look in here."
He reached for the door on the left, which probably lead to the entrance hall, but it was locked. He turned to the other one, which lead into a kitchen. It was equally dusty and had little of interest, except for a book lying on the table.
"I think this is a perfect place for our haunted house", declared Rick as I dusted the book's cover.
"Labinnah's Book of Cooking", I read out loud while Rick struggled with a door in the far-left corner of the room, "How strange. Say, do you smell something?"
Rick didn't answer. He had just managed to open the door and was advancing into te next room. Deprived of his light, I started to follow him, but a sudden scream made me jump. I knew it was his voice, and that it didn't necessarily mean there was someone else, but it the half-second in which I tried to think of what I should do he came scrambling out yelling "RUN!". Terrified, I sprinted back to our window entrance and dove outwards, landing heavily on my back. Rick was on my heels, and together we made for his car as if our lives depended on it.
As he turned the engine on I asked him:
"What happened? What was it? Rick answer me for god's sake what did you see?"
"I'll tell you", he mumbled, stuttering like a madman, "First, we leave though."
He turned the car around and darted down the street back to the boulevard, and kept driving for another two miles well above the speed limit. I sat silently, startled, but nothing matched the fear I could see in his eyes.
He eventually pulled over at the McDonald's after what seemed like an eternity. He sat immobile, staring out into nowhere, breathing heavily.
"Rick." I hesitated. "What happened?"
"Pete," he turned to me, "It's crazy. I don't know how to say it. I... There was... In that room. There was two bodies, I saw them."
I looked at him stunned.
"We should call the cops", is all I managed to say.
"No wait. There's more. Pete, I saw your, your..."
His eyes started to tear up. I felt cold suddenly, terrified to hear how the sentence would end. Rick took a breath and tried again:
"Pete, this sounds crazy but I sure of it. I know it's been years but... she was there. Sarah. Yes, your sister Sarah."
And then he fainted.
*To be continued...* | Taylor gritted her teeth. Nervous, anxiety wrapped around her, a first date, first in over a year. She was allowed to be nervous as she finished the last touches of her makeup.
Charlie knocked on her door wearing a plaid polo and jeans. Not impressive, but she'll see how his character is.
As they drove towards the theme park the conversation became one-sided with Charlie detailing his love of horror and how excited he was as the theme park, Terrorscades was only open for one week of the year, whichever week Halloween landed on.
Upon arrival at first glance the park seemed more like a carnival which might be a more apt description. Taylor shuddered nervous about exposing her fear of clowns on the first date. She had hoped that maybe Charlie would be the one for her, but that thought, that dream was quickly fleeting as she learned more of his interests and err... hobbies.
They went on a few rides where he tried to regain her interest with a number of jokes, none original. Then Charlie suggested they go into the Haunted House. Taylor was not interested but laughed and let him lead the way walking through the house, false hosts, decrepit dolls and other standard fare for these type of houses. As they neared the end the dolls seemed to become more real, or animatronic dressed with something skin-like.
Then Taylor noticed one, doll or animatronic did not matter. The doll was a near replica of her sister Jenn, who had been killed nearly a decade ago. Taylor quivered, and then the dolls, whatever they may be turned facing her and yelled "Why don't you join us?"
Taylor turned to Charlie to notice him brandishing a knife, and walking towards her. | |
[WP] You and a friend are about to enter the scariest Haunted House in the country. Everything is going fine until you realize one of the fake bodies is your little sister who went missing years ago. | Rick was my Halloween buddy. He and I were neighbors when we were kids, and used to best friends. When my family moved to another neighborhood, we drifted away from each other. We were still in the same school, but we didn't hang out with the same people. However, every Halloween we would meet up again. We had first met on a Halloween years ago, and the tradition had stuck since then. We would dress up in scary costumes and go trick-or-treating one year in his neighborhood, the next in mine.
Sometimes one of us brought along some other friends, but we both agreed this was less fun. When it was just the two of us we would prank other kids and have an overall great time. In preparation for this we would visit every Haunted House in town, to steal prank or costumes ideas more than for the thrills. Our friends may not have known but we were the Halloween Kings of Summerville. Some of our feats had anonymously passed down into the town's legends, such as the fake burning car stunt.
This year was our senior year. Our last Halloween together at home. We wanted to make it especially great. In fact we were hoping to make our own haunted house. We needed a location though. Our parents were not too keen on hearing kids scream all night long, so using our own houses was ruled out. We were therefore hunting for locations.
One evening, Rick pulled up in his old Honda Civic by my house, telling me he had found a great place. I jumped in one let him show the building in question. It was at an old cottage at the end of a street with no other issue. The yard was completely overgrown, and even the trees had overgrown and were clouding the house's face in a most sinister manner. There was a shattered window on the right of the door, replaced a couple of rotten planks forming an X across the frame.
"Come on", said Rick, turning off the engine and opening the door, "Let's go."
"Wait a second, you don't want to go in there do you?", I replied, following him out.
"Sure, why not? It's the perfect place for us."
"That's someone's *property*!"
"Well, the guy who lived there died seven years ago, and he didn't leave no family to live there. Stop fussing, let's check it out!"
He hopped the fence and set out to examine the open window. I glanced around nervously and followed his steps. Wrestling with the planks, Rick managed to break one and remove the other. There was enough room to hoist yourself up and into the house. Rick did just that, and I was obliged to do so as well, but not before looking back to the street one last time.
The room we were in was almost completely empty, with the exception of a chest of drawers and an old armchair both covered in dust. It was square shaped, the wall to our right had another window with the shutters closed, and the there were two doors, both closed as well, one facing us and the other on our left. It was very dark, as you would expect, but Rick had turned the flashlight on his phone and was having a look around. A gust of fresh air had followed our intrusion, but the place still smelled of rotting wood and moisture.
I had felt a certain nervousness when first entering the premises, but now the knot in my stomach was beginning to fade and curiosity was taking over. I walked over to the furniture and opened a drawer. Rick leaned in to give me some light, but visibly was eager to explore more first. The first drawer was empty, but I had to let out a gasp upon opening the second. Within were two objects only: a large butcher's knife and a small mugshot of an old, bald man. The photograph was rather dusty, but the knife wasn't, although this didn't alarm me immediately.
"Look at this", I told Rick, who hadn't been watching.
"Whoa that's a bit creepy to be lying around here", he answered, but didn't seem to perturbed, "let's have a look in here."
He reached for the door on the left, which probably lead to the entrance hall, but it was locked. He turned to the other one, which lead into a kitchen. It was equally dusty and had little of interest, except for a book lying on the table.
"I think this is a perfect place for our haunted house", declared Rick as I dusted the book's cover.
"Labinnah's Book of Cooking", I read out loud while Rick struggled with a door in the far-left corner of the room, "How strange. Say, do you smell something?"
Rick didn't answer. He had just managed to open the door and was advancing into te next room. Deprived of his light, I started to follow him, but a sudden scream made me jump. I knew it was his voice, and that it didn't necessarily mean there was someone else, but it the half-second in which I tried to think of what I should do he came scrambling out yelling "RUN!". Terrified, I sprinted back to our window entrance and dove outwards, landing heavily on my back. Rick was on my heels, and together we made for his car as if our lives depended on it.
As he turned the engine on I asked him:
"What happened? What was it? Rick answer me for god's sake what did you see?"
"I'll tell you", he mumbled, stuttering like a madman, "First, we leave though."
He turned the car around and darted down the street back to the boulevard, and kept driving for another two miles well above the speed limit. I sat silently, startled, but nothing matched the fear I could see in his eyes.
He eventually pulled over at the McDonald's after what seemed like an eternity. He sat immobile, staring out into nowhere, breathing heavily.
"Rick." I hesitated. "What happened?"
"Pete," he turned to me, "It's crazy. I don't know how to say it. I... There was... In that room. There was two bodies, I saw them."
I looked at him stunned.
"We should call the cops", is all I managed to say.
"No wait. There's more. Pete, I saw your, your..."
His eyes started to tear up. I felt cold suddenly, terrified to hear how the sentence would end. Rick took a breath and tried again:
"Pete, this sounds crazy but I sure of it. I know it's been years but... she was there. Sarah. Yes, your sister Sarah."
And then he fainted.
*To be continued...* | Anne heaved and huffed into the brown paper bag. Cold sweat sent shivers down her spine as she left the amusement park. Gil followed behind. His hands were occupied with the stuffed animal prizes and boxed snacks he'd won.
"Damn, you holding up alright?" said Gil, "Need another paper bag or something? Must've been the corndog."
"Nope," she gagged on her words. "Fuck that haunted house though. Jesus christ..."
"Yeah..."
"I mean, special effects are cool and all. But using a scanner to make genetic lookalikes are something else."
Gil laughed as he suddenly realized how much lighter his pockets were, "Well, it was a fifty buck admission fee per person. It better be damn worth it. Too bad you made us chicken out."
"Oh yeah. I didn't here you being all brave when you stepped over your dad - brother puppet thing."
Anne chuckled as they left the park. It was a fun date.
The corn dogs were shit though. | |
[WP] It's been 300 years since Mars was colonized. Now, there is a revolution and the colonies are fighting for their independance. The first space battle in human history is about to begin. | Everything was silent. I could hear my own breathing but with the voice activated coms nothing else. I sat and waited for the assault to begin. I supposed that a Greek warrior fighting the ancient Persians and a marine about to land on Iwo Jima would have had that in common with me. The waiting I mean, not the silence. I was aware that outside the tin can the Mars Authority had shoved us into missiles and counter missiles were playing a deadly game. With any luck, the tin can's defensive lasers and missiles would keep us alive long enough to board the Earther battleship. We were only one of a hundred or more smaller launch ships. Mars didn't have the resources that the Earther's did but we had plenty of cannon fodder to throw at their ships.
Every one of us was a volunteer. We had to be, since the odds of survival were bleak. Nine weeks of training at grav and zero grav combat made us tough. Some, like Seranto, who sat next to me also were tech specialized. If we did manage to board, they were supposed to be able to cripple the ships internal controls, as long as we got them to a panel. Every one of us knew that was speculation since no one had ever fought a space battle before. We had no idea what to expect but we were willing to die to protect every Martian's right to be free.
I almost jumped when the com came alive. "Last call. Somehow that asshole of a pilot has kept us alive. Ready for jump. Go, go go!" The bay doors opened and we spilled out into space, suit jets giving us a push towards a nearby wall of steel. It was confusing as hell, even with the smart suits automatically identifying a port access and pushing us towards it. We had gone from silent and still into a noiseless chaos. The huge ship couldn't fire missiles at a vessel this close but brilliant lasers shot out from the close in defensive batteries, reaching out like tentacles to grab an destroy. Sure enough, a few seconds later one of them pierced the heart of the shuttle and it fell to pieces.
"Too late!" I crowed. "Too late you fucking bastards. Here we come!"
I hadn't realized I spoke out loud. "Can the chatter, Mikowski. Cutters, get that damn hatch open." Portable laser cutters lit open the access and within seconds it was off. The first two marines into the access cam flying back out as the pressure from projectile weapons tore them to pieces.
"Fuck. Fuck those defences." The lieutenant moved to the edge of the access hole and released a portable mini shock. It was a local emp bomb that created both kinetic and electronic damage, designed (we all hoped) to destroy automated defences. He hand tossed it into the hole and as quickly he lost his hand as the defences tore it off. "Fuck, fuck fuck!" he yelled in pain as the suit cut off the blood loss and sealed the breach.
Still, the shock worked. It exploded in a blast of light. We were shielded against the EMP by the ship and our suits but inside the access port, all hell broke loose. The kinetic shards ripped through the walls of the ship and destroyed the skin. Meanwhile, the EMP trashed the brains of the defences. Within seconds, we were moving into the vessel itself.
They were no cowards, these Earthers. They died under our guns bravely but this wasn't a troop ship. As suspected, actually boarding them as an assault had never occurred to the arrogant bastards back on earth. They saw this as strictly ship to ship engagement and had designed their vessels accordingly. Hell, it never would have occurred to us either if it wasn't that we had no choice. Our lack of ships of the line necessitated what the commanding officers had called a more 'creative' approach.
Our suits were lightly armoured but the smart tech in them allowed our assault to be well coordinated once inside. Seranto managed to access a panel and shut off their internal defences, looking both pleased with herself and surprised at the same time. I grinned and said "Let's give them hell."
We split into teams of three and made for our objectives. Seranto, Georges and I made for the bridge. If possible, we were to turn the ship against its own but if not, two of the other teams had explosives and were to cripple or destroy her. Our destruction of the access port had vented air and we could see that more than a few of the crew were unprepared. I pushed past one and moved towards the upper deck, where the bridge entry was supposed to be. For all I knew, they could have put the bridge in the middle or even the ass end. Nothing demanded the bridge had to be at the front, since there were no ports or windows, but Earthers seemed to favour a forward bridge.
Not paying attention almost got my head blown off. As I poked my head up the gangplank, a hail of projectiles sparked off the metal rail. Ducking down I aimed and then bounced a grenade off the deck ceiling into the hallway above. As soon as it exploded I shot up, allowing momentum to bounce me off the deck ceiling and raking the area the shots came from with my laser. Light, fortunately, did not create inertia so my trajectory wasn't changed when I fired. Seranto and Georges followed me quickly but there was no need. The Grenade has splattered the brave souls defending the bridge entrance. Their suits were ripped apart and bits of flesh floated around as the bodies drifted lifelessly.
"There it is. Shall we knock?" Georges' gallows humour made me smile. We took positions, and opened the access door. A rush of air blew Seranto back but she quickly regained herself. We waited. Nothing. We waited a whole minute. Nothing. After a few more seconds, we were expecting a response but none seemed forthcoming. "Seems okay to go in." Georges said as she went in first.
"Oh, god." Georges gagged. No one on the bridge had worn suits. When we pulled the hatch, they lost their air and in the few minutes we had waited, vacuum had torn the air from their lungs and the air pressure inside them had ballooned them up as their skin expanded to match the external pressure. One of them had hit something, a cut releasing the pressure leaving a bloody mess over everything.
"Lieutenant. We have the bridge. Hold off on destruction until Seranto sees what she can do." I spoke calmly not allowing the revulsion to dictate my speech.
"Affirmative. FYI, resistance is gone. Seems they weren't suited." The way the Lieutenant sounded, I guessed we weren't the only ones facing a gory scene.
Seranto plugged her suit interface into a comp port access. Within seconds, lights started coming on across the bridge. Tactical displays starting showing us two sets of blips. Seranto pointed at the green blips. "That is Earther ships. The red blips are us. The ship has the red blips targeted."
"Can you change the input parameters, Seranto?" I asked.
An evil grin lit up her face, clearly visible through the suits face panel. She spoke a few lines of code, instructed the computer to accept the new commands and waited. The green blips all turned red. The red blips turned green, indicating friend status.
"Lieutenant, we have her. Requesting permission to fire." I waited.
"Granted." Her voice was jubilant. "All able personnel, move to gunnery stations and prepare for engagement." It was the command none of us expected but all of us hoped for. "On my way to the bridge but don't wait for me. Engage."
I slipped into a tactical station and locked the ship harness into place. Georges took navigation and Seranto remained at the computer. The training we had was basic but it allowed us to identify and target. "Seranto, see if you can get a message out on our frequency and ask them nicely not to shoot at us?" I quipped.
Within seconds the first wave to ship to ship missiles shot out from the destroyer towards Earther support ships. Taken by surprise, our first salvo severely damage two ships and destroyed two others. A second, then third wave. We kept shooting until their wasn't a missile left. By the time we were done, the few remaining Earther ships were burning for home or, if unable, had surrendered. One ship exploded with no warning. No one ever knew if there was some damage we didn't see or if the captain was simply unwilling to surrender.
Decades later, when they told the stories of the defence of Mars against the Earth, it was universally agreed that the assault of Earth Alliance Destroyer Texas was the beginning of the end. Losing the pride of their fleet and most powerful ship to a handful of grunts turned the public against the Earther governments. They still fought, three more battles and a handful of skirmishes, but their heart was no longer in the fight.
When we arrived home with a ship of the line and almost no casualties (aside from the two and the hand of one junior lieutenant) we became instant heroes. Being a hero didn't do Seranto much good when she was killed in the Battle of the Moon. Georges was equally unlucky during a minor skirmish near Phobos. I was lucky. I survived the war but even now, every night, I see them in my dreams. The few, brave few, that rode a tin can into hell and came back to tell about it. | "They have absolutely no regard for civilization! They are degenerates and criminals who think they have some ridiculous right to self-determination! This rebellion will accomplish *nothing* aside from destroying families and obliterating progress for the next decade!" The Terran captain's rage continued to pour over the comms until the Martian commander suddenly shut it off.
"Figures we weren't able to intercept any channel that's useful." Martian Commander Olsen stared through the glass that separated the bridge from the unforgiving void - her eyes already weary from the events leading up to this moment.
Olsen glanced over to her executive officer, who made no attempt to hide the disquietude exuding from his expression, "Relax a little, we're making the right decision."
"I - I know, but our lovely friend over there has a point. Our choices are going to huge impact, and not all of it will be pleasant," his voice grave mixed with a hint of sarcasm.
"You're right - we are destroying an interplanetary empire," she returned the humor. "But they are exploiting us," her tone switched swiftly. "We are living miserably so they can live comfortably. Any chance at a peaceful resolution is slim, and that's something we have known since the beginning. We exhausted many peaceful options, but we need to strike before they can prepare for a revolution"
Her somber eyes began scanning the blackness in front of her, seemingly expecting to see something, "The ambush is going to take place with at least a couple of kilometers of space in between us. We won't see anything"
The Terran navy was not much of a navy, but more of a large task-force designed to combat ill-equipped pirates. The majority of their ships were fast, well-rounded, and incredibly effective. They were a dangerous foe the infant Martian navy needed to carefully counter.
The revolutionaries spent years setting up a honeypot - a large, decoy pirate organization, and now an ambush that spent years in the making was about to come to fruition.
The Martian fleet was barely inside of the Terran fleet's sensor range - their ships tightly packed around the trap carefully set by the Martians.
"Three minutes until we are within range," the XO stated calmly over the intercom, his fear and doubt hidden well from the crew.
The haunting sounds of the ship's artillery moving into place reverberated throughout the quiet bridge.
"I'm impressed the Terran captain picked up on the situation so quickly." Olsen said, as if distancing herself from his imminent fate.
The commander took control of the comms and broke the radio silence among their fleet, "All ships prepare to fire." The fifty Martian ships, jury-rigged with long-range cannons, were all within range and had their weapons prepped per the battle plan.
The next few seconds crept by, every Martian aware of what was about to happen to hundreds of good people.
"Fire." |
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