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[WP] You have been on the Space Station for just under two years. The last communication with Earth was last week and even then it was a recorded message simply stating “ Do not return”. | Peter found the only gun in the space station before anyone could react to the situation. He was the one astronaut on-board with the wherewithal to act. Everyone else was either frozen in shock or crying their eyes out. Now that Peter held them at gunpoint, they didn't even have the time to process their emotions. The immediate threat snapped them out of their panic, but they didn't know what to say. Peter had grown easily irritable throughout the past two months. Hearing that last message made him snap. He wanted to kill Carlos, convinced that the other astronaut knew more than he let on.
The crew pleaded for his life.
Peter wasn't listening to reason.
Carlos suspected something occurred on Earth when they lost their connection to the internet. At first, they were assured by mission control it was a technical malfunction on their end. The crew believed it for a while until the excuses and delays became logically inconsistent. Carlos warned them on several occasions until giving up. The crew thought his apocalyptic fears were too outlandish. That was enough for Peter to make warped assumptions of his colleague.
Sarah hovered between Peter and Carlos. She kept everyone on-board sane due to being a counselor and always tried to mediate. Unfortunately, Peter shot her without a word. He then locked eyes with Carlos, saying:
"Tell us what you know or they all die!"
"I don't know!" Carlos was on the verge of tears. "You fool! We need everyone to get out of this mess!"
A heavy silence weighed on the crew.
Sarah moaned, gripping her stomach. She was still alive. Dmitri vomited at the sight of gelatinous-looking blood that floated out of her. The rest of the crew widened their eyes, at a loss for words. Peter was nuts beyond redemption. He would kill them all.
"You didn't think this through," said Carlos. "There's twelve of us and you only have eight bullets left."
"So?!?" shouted Peter.
"Right now, we only have each other. The minute we start turning on each other, all hope for humanity is lost."
"It is a little late for that," said Dmitri.
Julia elbowed him.
"What?!?" said Dmitri.
"Shut up!" whispered Julia.
"H-he's right, you know!" Peter twitched his eyes, gritting his teeth. "We're all fucked! Our families, our countries, our homes! It's all gone!"
"We don't know that!" said Carlos.
"Well *something* happened!"
"That just means we shouldn't act until we have more information. It could be a myriad of things."
"You were the one saying the world was ending!"
"And I was wrong for putting it in your head. My fear made me jump to conclusions too. If we ever want to return-"
Peter motioned at the other crew members. "He wants to go back! Are you kidding me? Doesn't that sound suspicious to all of you?" He looked at Carlos. "There's no going back after this! It's unprecedented to even be in this situation! How the hell are we going to eat? Do we starve to death?!?"
Carlos sighed. "We have enough for a while."
"And who gets to choose how it's distributed?"
Carlos looked away. "Well, I don't kno-"
"Exactly! You don't! Nobody does!"
"What the hell do you want from me?!? Of course I don't know!"
“The answer is obvious. I’m in charge now.”
“Why? Because you have the gun?”
“Yes! That’s how civilization works. If I have to preserve what remains of humanity, I’ll make any necessary sacrifices.”
“There’s a big difference. You weren’t *given* that power; you *took* it. What are you gonna do? Stop sleeping? Eventually, it’ll be taken away from you too.”
“I’ll… I’ll kill you!”
Carlos narrowed his eyes. “You won't.”
“I swear I will! Don’t test me!”
Carlos shook his head. “I know where you’re coming from. Life as you knew it might be on the brink of ruin and you can’t predict what’s coming next. Taking control of the station like this, accusing me of being involved in some type of conspiracy, it’s all a way to rationalize the situation.”
“You’re right.” Peter pointed the gun at his head. “There’s no way out.”
Everyone shouted:
“Don’t!”
Peter pulled the trigger.
The crew flinched back before realizing the gun was jammed.
Peter had a sudden moment of clarity. His pupils dilated in horror. “What am I doing?” He threw away the gun, bawling. “I… I shot Sarah.”
Carlos picked up the gun. “I know.”
“A-are you killing me?”
“Like I said, we only have each other. We still have a ship docked here. Landing it might require some creativity but there’s still hope if we make it back home. We’ll need to know what’s going on, first. You’re the only one who can connect us to a nearby satellite.”
“That’s... insane,” said Julia. “I mean, theoretically possible, but insane.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Carlos raised his voice. “Wait for a slow death? Of course not! If there’s even a marginal chance of success, it’s our duty to carry it out. Obviously, Peter needs to be locked in a room, but we need him to get proper information. He can be judged on Earth if he agrees to cooperate.”
The crew were unsure until Sarah agreed. She was barely conscious enough to hear the conversation. It could’ve been the blood loss affecting her cognition, but Carlos wasn’t about to argue against it. The rest of the crew felt comfortable tolerating him after feeling they had her blessing. They rushed to treat her wound while Carlos took Peter to a locked room.
Sarah was on the brink of death. Even after treating the damage, her condition never stabilized. Saving her might require a hospital... if there were any left.
Carlos led the crew for the next week, keeping an eye on Peter while he worked on a solution to their problem. He didn’t think things on Earth would be as critical as they thought. It could’ve been a natural disaster that interfered with communications, or a sudden war that made their current living situation awkward.
Sarah fell in a coma. Her chances of survival grew worse by the day.
Peter’s guilt pressured him into working even harder, finally establishing a connection. They only had one computer. Peter didn’t want to be the first to know. The revelation could trigger him again. He begged to not do it. The crew more or less felt the same way, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Discovering the truth gave them more fear than they expected. Eventually, they decided that Carlos would be the one to use the computer. He had shown leadership under pressure and was trusted enough to keep the gun for the entire week.
After locking himself in the room, Carlos hesitated for a second and searched on the internet for the biggest news outlets. The headlines made his stomach drop. Horrors far beyond what humanity could accomplish on its own. Clicking on a video only made his dread worse.
Carlos started bashing his head against the wall. He couldn’t even describe it. The carnage. The madness. His head kept replaying the images. They wouldn’t go away.
The crew started banging on the door, asking what was wrong.
Carlos couldn’t tell them. His throat locked up as soon as he considered it. The crew didn't deserve that burden. Carlos gripped the gun, fingering the trigger.
Peter may have been right.
--------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | Nova stared out across the dark void, a feeling of great gloom settling in his stomach. Today marked two years since the Launch, and though he had gotten used to the prospect of life on the Axel 2020, he couldn't help but long for the days of life back on earth — of waking up to the mouthwatering aromas of his mother's brilliant cooking, watching as the sun rose slowly into the sky, shining brightly upon the world below, the walk to work, the sound of dogs barking, of roosters roosting — or was it crowing? — and of cab drivers yelling at each other over passengers.
He had never appreciated just how intriguing all these sights and sounds were, until they were all replaced by this blank expanse of nothingness. His life had been far from perfect, but it had at least been enjoyable — until it came: the dastardly Covid19 virus.
He remembered how it had started small, a few people here and there getting infected and being carted off to the hospitals. And then it got worse. People had to maintain good distances away from each other, lovers could no longer embrace, families and friends had to remain divided. But it didn't stop there. Quarantines ensued, entire countries had been locked down, thousands were dying or losing their jobs, and the Government had no choice but to launch their final plan to save Humanity.
The Axel 2020 Space Station took months to build — a surprisingly short time, thanks to the effort pouring in from all corners of the world — and then, the few that had remained free and clean, untouched by the virus, had their whole lives uprooted and were sent away while the rest battled fiercely against the monstrosity that threatened to engulf mankind.
Nearly a year had passed before they had received their first message. Nova remembered a feeling of intense excitement — the virus had been destroyed, they were going home. Or so he had thought. The message had brought the gravest news that he had ever seen. Only a quarter of the population remained, the virus had won, "Do not return."
The next few months were a blur of tears. But a moment of clarity had come today, the mark of the two years that they had spent in isolation, in the middle of a vast emptiness that seemed to suck away their happiness like a great vacuum of glee. For one wild, heart-wrenching moment, Nova considered removing his helmet, letting the void claim him before despair did, but just as his fingers made to prise it off, he heard the sound of pattering feet and a voice that throbbed with — could he dare believe it? — *happiness*?
He whirled around. It was Stella. Tears were leaking down her face behind her helmet, but she was smiling.
"We've gotten another message," she said breathlessly. "They — they did it! They beat the virus! We can finally go back!"
Nova stared at her, at a complete loss for words, but his muscles communicated what he had been trying to say well enough. He dashed forward and seized her in a tight hug, tears now flooding down *his* face as well. They were finally leaving — they were going home.
r/MysticScribbles
Any comment or criticism is welcome and appreciated! | |
[WP] You have been on the Space Station for just under two years. The last communication with Earth was last week and even then it was a recorded message simply stating “ Do not return”. | "Do not return."
I played the message over and over. The robotic voice didn't seem to mind. It just repeated itself, happily or glibly, as I pushed the button that repeated the most recent transmission. "Do not return." Sometimes I foolishly hoped that if I pressed it at just the right time, waited just long enough, it would say something else, but it didn't. It simply looped the same three words — "Do not return."
The first thing I did when the message came through was propel myself to a window. The Earth was still there. It didn't look any different to me. But something happened — other than the short warning, no other communications were coming in. Radio silence, but for those three words. "Do not return."
I had to return eventually, though. Food wasn't exactly bountiful on the ship. But the more I thought about it, the colder I felt. Who sent the message? I had to return.
"Do not return."
I dwelled with indecision for what felt like weeks. Perhaps it was weeks. Until the warning, I'd done well keeping track of the days, but I saw little point in marking the calendar. What did it matter what day it was if I couldn't go back? I checked the button every so often, just to be sure.
"Do not return."
The voice wasn't recorded, of course — it was just my ship's hardware reading the text back to me. But pressing the button and hearing someone say it, even someone that wasn't real, made it seem like a person had sent it to me. When I first started checking the button, the unchanged message drained my hope. After a while, though, it made me feel... warm. Like a person out there cared enough to warn me. I couldn't hear that person, or see that person, but I could press that button and remember that they were real.
I could always check the button.
I always checked the button.
"Return."
I thought I might have broken it, checking it every day or hour or month, however long I was actually up there pushing that button. I checked again.
"Return."
Was I hearing things? Not hearing things? Was the voice only saying one word now?
I pushed the button again, terrified by the ensuing silence, my heart pounding until the voice finally said, "One." It was a strange inflection, almost like a hiccup first, but...
It was a different word. That meant a new transmission. I pressed the button again.
There was a strange pause, and then, "One."
I checked the screen, confused. It was like the voice was trying to read something, but didn't know how to say it. I blinked and leaned in close, unsure how long it had been since I'd even looked at the screen.
It was just two numbers. A strange looking three, and a one.
I looked from the screen to the button and pressed it again.
Pause. "One."
The voice couldn't read the three. Why? I stared at the screen for a moment, nagged by the thought that it looked familiar. I knew this symbol. I knew it well. But I couldn't remember... I thought of the message, nothing but the message, for so long. What was that symbol? I pushed the button again.
"Knee One."
Huh? I looked to the screen.
*N E 1.*
Anyone.
I pressed it again.
"Knee One."
My heart was racing. A person. Finally, a person. I pushed the button.
"No."
My heart dropped. No? What did it mean, no? I pushed the button.
"Okay."
I looked at the screen. *O K.* What was going on? I pressed the button again.
"Ick you."
I gulped and looked to the screen.
*I C U.*
I glanced around, but I couldn't see any way out. I could only see that it would finally be over. Whoever sent the message had tried to keep me safe, tried to spare me the fate of everyone else. A dark mass covered all views of the void outside, and the distant blue planet. They tried, and they failed. I wished I could press the button and hear that first message, that first warning. A person sent that to me. A person cared about me.
I closed my eyes and drew one last shuddering breath.
As I pushed the button, black tar seeped through fresh cracks in the metal walls, stretching toward me with arms oozing toxic fumes.
"I return you." | Nova stared out across the dark void, a feeling of great gloom settling in his stomach. Today marked two years since the Launch, and though he had gotten used to the prospect of life on the Axel 2020, he couldn't help but long for the days of life back on earth — of waking up to the mouthwatering aromas of his mother's brilliant cooking, watching as the sun rose slowly into the sky, shining brightly upon the world below, the walk to work, the sound of dogs barking, of roosters roosting — or was it crowing? — and of cab drivers yelling at each other over passengers.
He had never appreciated just how intriguing all these sights and sounds were, until they were all replaced by this blank expanse of nothingness. His life had been far from perfect, but it had at least been enjoyable — until it came: the dastardly Covid19 virus.
He remembered how it had started small, a few people here and there getting infected and being carted off to the hospitals. And then it got worse. People had to maintain good distances away from each other, lovers could no longer embrace, families and friends had to remain divided. But it didn't stop there. Quarantines ensued, entire countries had been locked down, thousands were dying or losing their jobs, and the Government had no choice but to launch their final plan to save Humanity.
The Axel 2020 Space Station took months to build — a surprisingly short time, thanks to the effort pouring in from all corners of the world — and then, the few that had remained free and clean, untouched by the virus, had their whole lives uprooted and were sent away while the rest battled fiercely against the monstrosity that threatened to engulf mankind.
Nearly a year had passed before they had received their first message. Nova remembered a feeling of intense excitement — the virus had been destroyed, they were going home. Or so he had thought. The message had brought the gravest news that he had ever seen. Only a quarter of the population remained, the virus had won, "Do not return."
The next few months were a blur of tears. But a moment of clarity had come today, the mark of the two years that they had spent in isolation, in the middle of a vast emptiness that seemed to suck away their happiness like a great vacuum of glee. For one wild, heart-wrenching moment, Nova considered removing his helmet, letting the void claim him before despair did, but just as his fingers made to prise it off, he heard the sound of pattering feet and a voice that throbbed with — could he dare believe it? — *happiness*?
He whirled around. It was Stella. Tears were leaking down her face behind her helmet, but she was smiling.
"We've gotten another message," she said breathlessly. "They — they did it! They beat the virus! We can finally go back!"
Nova stared at her, at a complete loss for words, but his muscles communicated what he had been trying to say well enough. He dashed forward and seized her in a tight hug, tears now flooding down *his* face as well. They were finally leaving — they were going home.
r/MysticScribbles
Any comment or criticism is welcome and appreciated! | |
[WP] You have been on the Space Station for just under two years. The last communication with Earth was last week and even then it was a recorded message simply stating “ Do not return”. | Peter found the only gun in the space station before anyone could react to the situation. He was the one astronaut on-board with the wherewithal to act. Everyone else was either frozen in shock or crying their eyes out. Now that Peter held them at gunpoint, they didn't even have the time to process their emotions. The immediate threat snapped them out of their panic, but they didn't know what to say. Peter had grown easily irritable throughout the past two months. Hearing that last message made him snap. He wanted to kill Carlos, convinced that the other astronaut knew more than he let on.
The crew pleaded for his life.
Peter wasn't listening to reason.
Carlos suspected something occurred on Earth when they lost their connection to the internet. At first, they were assured by mission control it was a technical malfunction on their end. The crew believed it for a while until the excuses and delays became logically inconsistent. Carlos warned them on several occasions until giving up. The crew thought his apocalyptic fears were too outlandish. That was enough for Peter to make warped assumptions of his colleague.
Sarah hovered between Peter and Carlos. She kept everyone on-board sane due to being a counselor and always tried to mediate. Unfortunately, Peter shot her without a word. He then locked eyes with Carlos, saying:
"Tell us what you know or they all die!"
"I don't know!" Carlos was on the verge of tears. "You fool! We need everyone to get out of this mess!"
A heavy silence weighed on the crew.
Sarah moaned, gripping her stomach. She was still alive. Dmitri vomited at the sight of gelatinous-looking blood that floated out of her. The rest of the crew widened their eyes, at a loss for words. Peter was nuts beyond redemption. He would kill them all.
"You didn't think this through," said Carlos. "There's twelve of us and you only have eight bullets left."
"So?!?" shouted Peter.
"Right now, we only have each other. The minute we start turning on each other, all hope for humanity is lost."
"It is a little late for that," said Dmitri.
Julia elbowed him.
"What?!?" said Dmitri.
"Shut up!" whispered Julia.
"H-he's right, you know!" Peter twitched his eyes, gritting his teeth. "We're all fucked! Our families, our countries, our homes! It's all gone!"
"We don't know that!" said Carlos.
"Well *something* happened!"
"That just means we shouldn't act until we have more information. It could be a myriad of things."
"You were the one saying the world was ending!"
"And I was wrong for putting it in your head. My fear made me jump to conclusions too. If we ever want to return-"
Peter motioned at the other crew members. "He wants to go back! Are you kidding me? Doesn't that sound suspicious to all of you?" He looked at Carlos. "There's no going back after this! It's unprecedented to even be in this situation! How the hell are we going to eat? Do we starve to death?!?"
Carlos sighed. "We have enough for a while."
"And who gets to choose how it's distributed?"
Carlos looked away. "Well, I don't kno-"
"Exactly! You don't! Nobody does!"
"What the hell do you want from me?!? Of course I don't know!"
“The answer is obvious. I’m in charge now.”
“Why? Because you have the gun?”
“Yes! That’s how civilization works. If I have to preserve what remains of humanity, I’ll make any necessary sacrifices.”
“There’s a big difference. You weren’t *given* that power; you *took* it. What are you gonna do? Stop sleeping? Eventually, it’ll be taken away from you too.”
“I’ll… I’ll kill you!”
Carlos narrowed his eyes. “You won't.”
“I swear I will! Don’t test me!”
Carlos shook his head. “I know where you’re coming from. Life as you knew it might be on the brink of ruin and you can’t predict what’s coming next. Taking control of the station like this, accusing me of being involved in some type of conspiracy, it’s all a way to rationalize the situation.”
“You’re right.” Peter pointed the gun at his head. “There’s no way out.”
Everyone shouted:
“Don’t!”
Peter pulled the trigger.
The crew flinched back before realizing the gun was jammed.
Peter had a sudden moment of clarity. His pupils dilated in horror. “What am I doing?” He threw away the gun, bawling. “I… I shot Sarah.”
Carlos picked up the gun. “I know.”
“A-are you killing me?”
“Like I said, we only have each other. We still have a ship docked here. Landing it might require some creativity but there’s still hope if we make it back home. We’ll need to know what’s going on, first. You’re the only one who can connect us to a nearby satellite.”
“That’s... insane,” said Julia. “I mean, theoretically possible, but insane.”
“And what are we supposed to do?” Carlos raised his voice. “Wait for a slow death? Of course not! If there’s even a marginal chance of success, it’s our duty to carry it out. Obviously, Peter needs to be locked in a room, but we need him to get proper information. He can be judged on Earth if he agrees to cooperate.”
The crew were unsure until Sarah agreed. She was barely conscious enough to hear the conversation. It could’ve been the blood loss affecting her cognition, but Carlos wasn’t about to argue against it. The rest of the crew felt comfortable tolerating him after feeling they had her blessing. They rushed to treat her wound while Carlos took Peter to a locked room.
Sarah was on the brink of death. Even after treating the damage, her condition never stabilized. Saving her might require a hospital... if there were any left.
Carlos led the crew for the next week, keeping an eye on Peter while he worked on a solution to their problem. He didn’t think things on Earth would be as critical as they thought. It could’ve been a natural disaster that interfered with communications, or a sudden war that made their current living situation awkward.
Sarah fell in a coma. Her chances of survival grew worse by the day.
Peter’s guilt pressured him into working even harder, finally establishing a connection. They only had one computer. Peter didn’t want to be the first to know. The revelation could trigger him again. He begged to not do it. The crew more or less felt the same way, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Discovering the truth gave them more fear than they expected. Eventually, they decided that Carlos would be the one to use the computer. He had shown leadership under pressure and was trusted enough to keep the gun for the entire week.
After locking himself in the room, Carlos hesitated for a second and searched on the internet for the biggest news outlets. The headlines made his stomach drop. Horrors far beyond what humanity could accomplish on its own. Clicking on a video only made his dread worse.
Carlos started bashing his head against the wall. He couldn’t even describe it. The carnage. The madness. His head kept replaying the images. They wouldn’t go away.
The crew started banging on the door, asking what was wrong.
Carlos couldn’t tell them. His throat locked up as soon as he considered it. The crew didn't deserve that burden. Carlos gripped the gun, fingering the trigger.
Peter may have been right.
--------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | It finally happened. My mom always warned me of this. All my life I had messed things up, breaking things. But now, I'm officially the first human being banned from Earth for being a complete klutz.
They put me on this space station because I couldn't possibly drop anything in space. Well I could, it would just float there. I've spilled milk in space 18 times, I just 'swim' around and gulp it up.
I still remember the last time I was on Earth. "Yes, Madam president, I'll take of the launch codes and keep it safely at my side." But you see I tripped when I was running, the brief case flew into the air. Apparently I hadn't locked it properly and the thing flung open in the air. When I caught it my fingers pressed the launch buttons. Next thing you know 23 countries were wiped off the face of the Earth.
Mom always told me my clumsiness would bring ruin upon the Earth. | |
[WP] You have been on the Space Station for just under two years. The last communication with Earth was last week and even then it was a recorded message simply stating “ Do not return”. | "Do not return."
I played the message over and over. The robotic voice didn't seem to mind. It just repeated itself, happily or glibly, as I pushed the button that repeated the most recent transmission. "Do not return." Sometimes I foolishly hoped that if I pressed it at just the right time, waited just long enough, it would say something else, but it didn't. It simply looped the same three words — "Do not return."
The first thing I did when the message came through was propel myself to a window. The Earth was still there. It didn't look any different to me. But something happened — other than the short warning, no other communications were coming in. Radio silence, but for those three words. "Do not return."
I had to return eventually, though. Food wasn't exactly bountiful on the ship. But the more I thought about it, the colder I felt. Who sent the message? I had to return.
"Do not return."
I dwelled with indecision for what felt like weeks. Perhaps it was weeks. Until the warning, I'd done well keeping track of the days, but I saw little point in marking the calendar. What did it matter what day it was if I couldn't go back? I checked the button every so often, just to be sure.
"Do not return."
The voice wasn't recorded, of course — it was just my ship's hardware reading the text back to me. But pressing the button and hearing someone say it, even someone that wasn't real, made it seem like a person had sent it to me. When I first started checking the button, the unchanged message drained my hope. After a while, though, it made me feel... warm. Like a person out there cared enough to warn me. I couldn't hear that person, or see that person, but I could press that button and remember that they were real.
I could always check the button.
I always checked the button.
"Return."
I thought I might have broken it, checking it every day or hour or month, however long I was actually up there pushing that button. I checked again.
"Return."
Was I hearing things? Not hearing things? Was the voice only saying one word now?
I pushed the button again, terrified by the ensuing silence, my heart pounding until the voice finally said, "One." It was a strange inflection, almost like a hiccup first, but...
It was a different word. That meant a new transmission. I pressed the button again.
There was a strange pause, and then, "One."
I checked the screen, confused. It was like the voice was trying to read something, but didn't know how to say it. I blinked and leaned in close, unsure how long it had been since I'd even looked at the screen.
It was just two numbers. A strange looking three, and a one.
I looked from the screen to the button and pressed it again.
Pause. "One."
The voice couldn't read the three. Why? I stared at the screen for a moment, nagged by the thought that it looked familiar. I knew this symbol. I knew it well. But I couldn't remember... I thought of the message, nothing but the message, for so long. What was that symbol? I pushed the button again.
"Knee One."
Huh? I looked to the screen.
*N E 1.*
Anyone.
I pressed it again.
"Knee One."
My heart was racing. A person. Finally, a person. I pushed the button.
"No."
My heart dropped. No? What did it mean, no? I pushed the button.
"Okay."
I looked at the screen. *O K.* What was going on? I pressed the button again.
"Ick you."
I gulped and looked to the screen.
*I C U.*
I glanced around, but I couldn't see any way out. I could only see that it would finally be over. Whoever sent the message had tried to keep me safe, tried to spare me the fate of everyone else. A dark mass covered all views of the void outside, and the distant blue planet. They tried, and they failed. I wished I could press the button and hear that first message, that first warning. A person sent that to me. A person cared about me.
I closed my eyes and drew one last shuddering breath.
As I pushed the button, black tar seeped through fresh cracks in the metal walls, stretching toward me with arms oozing toxic fumes.
"I return you." | It finally happened. My mom always warned me of this. All my life I had messed things up, breaking things. But now, I'm officially the first human being banned from Earth for being a complete klutz.
They put me on this space station because I couldn't possibly drop anything in space. Well I could, it would just float there. I've spilled milk in space 18 times, I just 'swim' around and gulp it up.
I still remember the last time I was on Earth. "Yes, Madam president, I'll take of the launch codes and keep it safely at my side." But you see I tripped when I was running, the brief case flew into the air. Apparently I hadn't locked it properly and the thing flung open in the air. When I caught it my fingers pressed the launch buttons. Next thing you know 23 countries were wiped off the face of the Earth.
Mom always told me my clumsiness would bring ruin upon the Earth. | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | Leon M. Weber was never an interesting man. 5'10, mid 40s and the epitome of a middle aged white man. He spent his time in either the theater, or his tiny apartment next to a local coffee shop. Every morning at 7 am, Leon would trim his uneven stuble, and dress appropriately depending on if there is rehersal or a concert. Normally, he would wear a clean pair of dark jeans and an ironed button up shirt, or formal dress shirt and pants for a concert. However today was a special day. He couldn't sinply put on his normal outfit for this occassion.
After a beautiful concert he and his orchestra put their entire heart and soul into, the owner of the Grand Elias Meyer theater, Lukas Meyer, personally thanked Leon for the exquisite performance. Lukas then offered him a business card and implied that a good performance at his theater could mean a weekly contract.
To prepare for this opportunity, Leon scraped together his meager savings, and purchased a tailored suit and left just enough money to purchase a new baton. His current baton was battered from frequent taps against his music stand and a bad habit of hitting something when one of the musicians messes up on the key signature. In order to purchase a new baton, Leon went to the nearest music store. As he approached the entrance, a paper sign was posted on the aged wooden door. "Due to the financial distress caused by the economic depression, we will unfortunately have to close our doors." Dejected and having no other option, Leon started walking back to his car. However out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mass of discarded music, broken instruments, and tools. Being a conductor, he often purchases strings and fixes various instruments for his orchestra in order to keep things running smoothly. Seeing this as an opportunity, he dug through the pile and found several usable strings, and some rosin. Right before finishing his shameless dumpster dive, something for a split second glistened in front of him. Perplexed, he grabbed the clear plastic tube and found exactly what he had come for.
This baton was definitely something special. It was an ornate mahogany wand with a beautiful ruby at the base and had a crystal insert at the tip. Leon could not believe his luck. This baton could have easily costed hundreds of dollars and was suprised that such a thing would be thrown out. Excitedly, he went home, got dressed in his new suit, and drove the hour and a half to the new concert venue.
Time drew closer to the time for the performance. He and his orchestra had practiced for many days to prepare for this moment. Before starting, he got one last G in for tuning. This was the moment for Leon to prove himself.
The intro to the music went smooth. Every musician knew exactly what needed to be done. Leon simply listened to the music, and lead the orchestra to the desired location. Then something changed in him. His conducting didn't feel right even if the motions were correct. After a few more seconds, Leon couldn't resist the urge to "fix" his movements. That is when the magic happened.
He closed his eyes, conecentrated very hard on what his urges were, and changed his baton movements. That is when the music changed completely. The audience audibly gasped as the dynamic of the music changed. Alarmed, Leon opened his eyes to see whats changed. The room filled with warm glowing embers that were not hot to the touch. All kinds of known and unknown instruments floated about the room, gently supporting the orchestra with new harmonies and chords. As the orchestra approached the climax of the concerto, angel made of light floated down to sing the final few melodies. This was truely Leon's most magical night.
If you are reading this message, thank you very much for reading through. This is my first attempt at writing on this subreddit. There will probably be some spelling and gramtical errors. Also could probably use some better word choice. If you see anything that could be changed let me know. | The students were all gathered in the auditorium for an assembly, an assembly where the high school band would be performing for them. A majority of the students sat down and slouched in their chairs, already dreading the hour-long performance that in their minds would last at least five. Sleeping wasn’t an option because teachers would be watching them watch the performance, and some of them could not afford a detention.
After everybody was seated, the band began filing onto the stage. The casual round of applause filled the auditorium. After the band members were seated, the conductor came out, bowed to the audience and then turned to the band. He then began waving his baton in a starting rhythm and the band started playing.
At first, things were pretty normal. Students were slouched in their seats, arms crossed or on the arms of the chairs, trying not to fall asleep or die of boredom.
But suddenly, as the conductor kept waving his baton, some of the students parked up as they noticed the outside doors swing open unexpectedly and a group of birds suddenly flew into the room. Students began talking, some of them screaming as the birds flew right by their heads. The teachers began scrambling to try and get the birds and get them out. Then, within an instant, they disappeared, and glitter sprinkled down onto the floor where the birds once flew.
As the teachers and students sat or stood dumbfounded and their jaws dropped onto the floor, they looked back up at the band and at the conductor, who were still casually playing as if they saw none of what just happened.
Moments later, something else happened. The principal of the school, who was quieting down some of the students suddenly began floating in the air. She began to panic as she suddenly started flying across the room. The students watching, some of them laughing hysterically and others watching in astonishment.
“WHOEVER IS DOING THIS! PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” She screamed as she continued flying across the room, as if anybody even knew who was causing it.
After about a minute, she was gently put back down on the ground. She was still visibly shaken from having flown around the room. Some of the students were shouting, “Me next! Me next!” Yet again, the band continued playing, as if they hadn’t seen anything yet again!
As the music reached its climax and was at its loudest, a large elephant suddenly appeared from backstage and started making its way into the audience. Some of the teachers and students quickly fled the room but most of them stayed, as the elephant seemed to just casual stroll up and down the aisles, not wanting to hurt anybody. As the music picked up sound, the elephant blared with sound. The students near the elephant covering its ears at the sound of the elephant being too much for their ears.
Then, once again, the elephant disappeared, this time, flowers gently swayed their way onto the floor. One student picked up a flower and handed it to the girl sitting next to him, the girl smiling and blushing.
Finally, the big conclusion of the song. As all the instruments started playing and filling the room with sound, all of the lights within the room, the auditorium lights, the stage lights, even the hallway lights, started flickering on and off uncontrollably. Then, once the music stopped, everything was completely black.
After at least ten seconds of being in total darkness, and also total silence, the lights came back on. Everybody was still silent for a moment. But a student, who seemed to have still been in a bit of shock from everything, slowly began clapping and standing up from his seat. Everybody else quickly followed after until their was a standing ovation.
The conductor smiled and did a bow.
“Thank you students and faculty for allowing me and my students to perform for you all.” The conductor said. “We hope you enjoyed that wonderful introduction. Including the birds, our principal flying across the room, the elephants and the lights.”
Everyone looked at each other and whispered.
*So they did know what was going on!*
*They sure did a good job of hiding it!*
“Yes, I know you all are surprised by everything you’ve just seen...” The conductor said. “But that was just the beginning!”
Everyone’s eyes widened as the conductor then turned around, prepping for the next song.
What else could there possibly be??? | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | It was the evening 7th and 8th-grade orchestra concert. As the stage lights flickered on, the audience quieted down to a low hush. I, sitting in my usual spot of second chair, first violin, looked expectantly at the front of the stage for the conductor to walk on stage. Everyone began clapping when he walked on stage and we got into our positions when he rose onto the podium. Today, we would be performing the Haydn D major concerto for solo piano and orchestra, and our pianist was already set up in front of us. So, the conductor raised his baton and gave us the cue.
Suddenly, our concertmaster stood up and walked to the front of the stage. The orchestra stopped playing and looked at the conductor, alarmed. The conductor looked just as surprised. The boy took a deep breath and began yodeling! The audience began to laugh and clap, and the entire orchestra just looked scared. The first chair cello player set his instrument down and began whispering to the conductor. After a few moments, the conductor nodded and motioned for us to begin the concerto once again. We played on and for about a minute, nothing happened.
Then, the piano started to sound like a bird chirping! The pianist, completely caught off guard, didn't know what had happened and stopped playing. The conductor looked behind him and saw her not playing. He furiously motioned at her to play and she hesitantly put her finger on a key. It chirped in triple fortissimo and the audience covered their ears. Babies started bawling and this concert was turning out to be a complete disaster. The first chair boy was now sitting cross-legged on top of the grand piano.
But it was all going to get better! With the next wave of the conductor's baton, Bob Ross appeared next to the piano. He was painting a snow scene and said his usual motivational phrases. One audience member even ran up to him and asked for his autograph. Bob Ross disappeared and in his place was a blue whale that looked completely out of place. Then appeared an angry old man who yelled, 'You're all OUT OF TUNE! Call the intonation police!'. At this point, the concerto became for only orchestra and we were pretending not to care about what happened.
My violin started floating away from me. I tried to pull it back, but its pull was too hard and I had to let go of it if I wanted to keep my arms. A bass came towards me and put on a funny face and tried to play the bass. It sounded horrible, and that's when I realized that everyone had gotten their instruments swapped! We sounded so disoriented and we weren't together at all. I looked in the audience and made sure my dad was recording this. Good, he was. The bass started going away too, but I grabbed onto it and floated away with it. The bass got returned, the violin thrust into my arms and a gust of wind forced me back into my chair.
A big 'BANG' was heard from the ceiling of the stage. It was known to leak, so I got a little frightened. I braced myself for a drop of water on my head, but lo! Gallons of disgusting green slime poured onto each orchestra members' heads! We started to have war, throwing slime at the audience and at each other. The poor conductor was struggling with everyone, yelling for us to come back. I looked up and realized we were going to have another dose of slime. I grabbed my chair and my instrument and hid under my chair. Motioning for others to do the same, I took cover.
The conductor finally gave up and ended the concerto with the one remaining orchestra who was still playing, the first chair viola. The slime-covered audience clapped, cheered, and whooped. We all got up and bowed, once, once again, once more. Everyone was loving it, even my mother who was more serious than fun. The first chair boy got up and started dancing and everyone cheered. I smiled. I wish this could happen more often. I got a chunk of slime and put it in my hair. | The students were all gathered in the auditorium for an assembly, an assembly where the high school band would be performing for them. A majority of the students sat down and slouched in their chairs, already dreading the hour-long performance that in their minds would last at least five. Sleeping wasn’t an option because teachers would be watching them watch the performance, and some of them could not afford a detention.
After everybody was seated, the band began filing onto the stage. The casual round of applause filled the auditorium. After the band members were seated, the conductor came out, bowed to the audience and then turned to the band. He then began waving his baton in a starting rhythm and the band started playing.
At first, things were pretty normal. Students were slouched in their seats, arms crossed or on the arms of the chairs, trying not to fall asleep or die of boredom.
But suddenly, as the conductor kept waving his baton, some of the students parked up as they noticed the outside doors swing open unexpectedly and a group of birds suddenly flew into the room. Students began talking, some of them screaming as the birds flew right by their heads. The teachers began scrambling to try and get the birds and get them out. Then, within an instant, they disappeared, and glitter sprinkled down onto the floor where the birds once flew.
As the teachers and students sat or stood dumbfounded and their jaws dropped onto the floor, they looked back up at the band and at the conductor, who were still casually playing as if they saw none of what just happened.
Moments later, something else happened. The principal of the school, who was quieting down some of the students suddenly began floating in the air. She began to panic as she suddenly started flying across the room. The students watching, some of them laughing hysterically and others watching in astonishment.
“WHOEVER IS DOING THIS! PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” She screamed as she continued flying across the room, as if anybody even knew who was causing it.
After about a minute, she was gently put back down on the ground. She was still visibly shaken from having flown around the room. Some of the students were shouting, “Me next! Me next!” Yet again, the band continued playing, as if they hadn’t seen anything yet again!
As the music reached its climax and was at its loudest, a large elephant suddenly appeared from backstage and started making its way into the audience. Some of the teachers and students quickly fled the room but most of them stayed, as the elephant seemed to just casual stroll up and down the aisles, not wanting to hurt anybody. As the music picked up sound, the elephant blared with sound. The students near the elephant covering its ears at the sound of the elephant being too much for their ears.
Then, once again, the elephant disappeared, this time, flowers gently swayed their way onto the floor. One student picked up a flower and handed it to the girl sitting next to him, the girl smiling and blushing.
Finally, the big conclusion of the song. As all the instruments started playing and filling the room with sound, all of the lights within the room, the auditorium lights, the stage lights, even the hallway lights, started flickering on and off uncontrollably. Then, once the music stopped, everything was completely black.
After at least ten seconds of being in total darkness, and also total silence, the lights came back on. Everybody was still silent for a moment. But a student, who seemed to have still been in a bit of shock from everything, slowly began clapping and standing up from his seat. Everybody else quickly followed after until their was a standing ovation.
The conductor smiled and did a bow.
“Thank you students and faculty for allowing me and my students to perform for you all.” The conductor said. “We hope you enjoyed that wonderful introduction. Including the birds, our principal flying across the room, the elephants and the lights.”
Everyone looked at each other and whispered.
*So they did know what was going on!*
*They sure did a good job of hiding it!*
“Yes, I know you all are surprised by everything you’ve just seen...” The conductor said. “But that was just the beginning!”
Everyone’s eyes widened as the conductor then turned around, prepping for the next song.
What else could there possibly be??? | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | "You're taking her where?" my flatmate looked at me in shock. The bottle of Heineken in his hand frozen just out of reach of his mouth.
"A philharmonic concert. They're doing scores from movies. Could be good. Come on, man. Please let me borrow your tux."
"What the hell do you know about philharmonic orchestras?"
"Nothing. But her profile is so intimidating, she's way too intelligent for me. I have to show that I'm interested in cultural and intellectual activities. And I love movies, you gotta admit that."
Jake slugged on his bottle, "Yep but that's not the same thing as going to philharmonic concerts. Do you even know what philharmonic means?"
I winked at him, "Harmonics made by Phil?"
"You're an idiot."
"Can I please have your tux? Please?"
He laughed. "Sure but you'll need more than a tux to save you."
\----------
She looked beautiful. Dressed in a full-length red gown and matching heels, her hair straightened and cascading down her back, I was greeted by a peck on the cheek.
"Wow, Helen, wow" I mustered.
"Thanks. You look great yourself. Very smart tuxedo. Suits you," she smiled at me. I could swear her teeth sparkled under the lights of the concert hall lobby.
'Marry me,' I thought to myself.
\----------
We took our seats and soon all the musicians had taken their places. They were followed by the conductor; a tall, elegant man with a moustache straight out of the 19th century.
'Yep, that's about right. What on earth am I doing?' I questioned myself.
That's when things started....happening.
The conductor tapped his baton three times on the podium and raised it dramatically in the air. At that very instant, a white light shot out from the baton into the rafters above. Dust fell on to the conductor and the musicians.
Professionally ignoring what just happened, the conductor waved his baton into the air in a zig-zag form and directed it at the violin section. They froze. Literally. Becoming covered by large blocks of ice.
"What the f--" I turned to Helen, relieved to see she had the same look of disbelief written on her face.
"I've never heard of that happening before," she told me, her voice cracking with surprise.
The members of the audience all beginning murmuring and the musicians were stood up, conversing between themselves, standing well away from their colleagues. Some summoned enough courage to poke at them with flutes or cello bows as if verifying whether a body is dead or just sleeping.
The conductor coughed and seemed determined to soldier on. He tapped his baton again, twice this time and brandished it from left to right before aiming it at the pianist. Who proceeded to turn into a bronze statue. Someone screamed. The oboist fainted.
By now the spectators were all stood from their seats. Many had even begun to make their to the exits when the conductor turned to face them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we some to be experiencing some....technical difficulties. Please do excuse us. We shall try to get this matter under control. Please remain seated. There is no need to panic."
He clasped his hands together with his baton sticking out and another white light was emitted into the air. More dust fell, followed by some bits of wood.
The conductor looked at his baton and then appeared to smirk. He pointed it at a few empty seats and a bolt of black shot out and set the chairs alight. This is when Helen and I decided to make a run for it. Flashes of black and white followed as the conductor had now seemingly decided to create his own music. Exploding chairs or setting them alight in rhythm to whatever melody was filling his thoughts.
\--------------
We were back at the flat. I handed Helen a large glass of whisky.
"I guess that will be a first date that we'll always remember. Something to tell the grandkids," I joked.
She gulped down the glass and looked at me, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've got to admit something. I don't even like philharmonic concerts. When you asked me to go to one, I had to check up what it was. I thought it was harmonics made by someone called Phil." She smiled the most wonderful smile I had ever seen, warmth seeming to glow from it and into my very being.
'Marry me,' I repeated to myself.
She continued, "I made some stuff up on my profile to sound more intelligent because my taste of guy is usually...well, kinda shit. So I decided to look for different types of guys. Sorry, I hope you don't mind?"
I laughed, "No, no, of course not. This is a borrowed tux from my flatmate. And that Phil guy must be psycho if all those concerts are like that."
We both smiled and our eyes locked.
'Marry me,' I thought. | The students were all gathered in the auditorium for an assembly, an assembly where the high school band would be performing for them. A majority of the students sat down and slouched in their chairs, already dreading the hour-long performance that in their minds would last at least five. Sleeping wasn’t an option because teachers would be watching them watch the performance, and some of them could not afford a detention.
After everybody was seated, the band began filing onto the stage. The casual round of applause filled the auditorium. After the band members were seated, the conductor came out, bowed to the audience and then turned to the band. He then began waving his baton in a starting rhythm and the band started playing.
At first, things were pretty normal. Students were slouched in their seats, arms crossed or on the arms of the chairs, trying not to fall asleep or die of boredom.
But suddenly, as the conductor kept waving his baton, some of the students parked up as they noticed the outside doors swing open unexpectedly and a group of birds suddenly flew into the room. Students began talking, some of them screaming as the birds flew right by their heads. The teachers began scrambling to try and get the birds and get them out. Then, within an instant, they disappeared, and glitter sprinkled down onto the floor where the birds once flew.
As the teachers and students sat or stood dumbfounded and their jaws dropped onto the floor, they looked back up at the band and at the conductor, who were still casually playing as if they saw none of what just happened.
Moments later, something else happened. The principal of the school, who was quieting down some of the students suddenly began floating in the air. She began to panic as she suddenly started flying across the room. The students watching, some of them laughing hysterically and others watching in astonishment.
“WHOEVER IS DOING THIS! PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” She screamed as she continued flying across the room, as if anybody even knew who was causing it.
After about a minute, she was gently put back down on the ground. She was still visibly shaken from having flown around the room. Some of the students were shouting, “Me next! Me next!” Yet again, the band continued playing, as if they hadn’t seen anything yet again!
As the music reached its climax and was at its loudest, a large elephant suddenly appeared from backstage and started making its way into the audience. Some of the teachers and students quickly fled the room but most of them stayed, as the elephant seemed to just casual stroll up and down the aisles, not wanting to hurt anybody. As the music picked up sound, the elephant blared with sound. The students near the elephant covering its ears at the sound of the elephant being too much for their ears.
Then, once again, the elephant disappeared, this time, flowers gently swayed their way onto the floor. One student picked up a flower and handed it to the girl sitting next to him, the girl smiling and blushing.
Finally, the big conclusion of the song. As all the instruments started playing and filling the room with sound, all of the lights within the room, the auditorium lights, the stage lights, even the hallway lights, started flickering on and off uncontrollably. Then, once the music stopped, everything was completely black.
After at least ten seconds of being in total darkness, and also total silence, the lights came back on. Everybody was still silent for a moment. But a student, who seemed to have still been in a bit of shock from everything, slowly began clapping and standing up from his seat. Everybody else quickly followed after until their was a standing ovation.
The conductor smiled and did a bow.
“Thank you students and faculty for allowing me and my students to perform for you all.” The conductor said. “We hope you enjoyed that wonderful introduction. Including the birds, our principal flying across the room, the elephants and the lights.”
Everyone looked at each other and whispered.
*So they did know what was going on!*
*They sure did a good job of hiding it!*
“Yes, I know you all are surprised by everything you’ve just seen...” The conductor said. “But that was just the beginning!”
Everyone’s eyes widened as the conductor then turned around, prepping for the next song.
What else could there possibly be??? | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | To our beloved Columbus Symphony Orchestra family,
Well, I certainly did not expect to be writing this letter. As the President of the Board, I have truly never experienced such an event in my fifteen years directing and running the premier classical music organization within the Biggest Small Town in America. We love our city, we love our musicians, and we certainly love all of our members.
What happened on Friday evening has made me speechless. I am penning you this on Sunday afternoon, still mulling over the implications of the event and what it means for the future of our Orchestra.
First things first: none of us are sure how the conductor’s baton got swapped for a magic wand. We are not sure where the magic wand is now, or if it was destroyed. All we can say for sure is that the concert was unforgettable. Perhaps we shall always associate *Carmina Burana* with such awe inspiring magic.
As those of you who were present at Geraldine Fredritz Mock Symphony Hall or tuned into the Zoom livestream on Friday evening remember how it began. Oh, how wonderful and surprising it was! As soon as the orchestra struck the first chords of *Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi* we noticed the thunder above, the ribbons of light dancing around the hall, and the warm breezes that smelled distinctly of cedar and roses.
When the chorus joined the music, their voices rang out in all languages. How wondrous that we could all understand the original Latin as if we were native speakers!
Of course, who could forget the woodwinds, literally turning their gorgeous music into sprouting trees and flowers, creating the woods around them?
Or the trumpets and trombones, turning at times into large elephants or lions and adding their own sounds to the mix.
And the percussion section -- my goodness, the glittering visuals that accompanied their crashing and booming will remain in my mind’s eye for the rest of my life.
The orchestra played on, performing the scenic cantata to their fullest.
Which brings us finally to the reprise at the end. This brings me to one line, found along the drawing of the Fortuna Wheel that appears on the Burana Codex:
*Regnabo, Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno.*
(I shall reign, I reign, I have reigned, I am without a realm.)
We all did reign during that performance. We were entranced. We ruled amongst the world of magic, no longer bound to our current realm.
Then the musicians all disappeared.
Authorities have been notified, as have their families. This disappearance and the subsequent transformation of Mock Symphony Hall into a large forest, full of wild animals that rarely appear together in worldly environs, has been noted and compared to similar events in the Arctic, South Africa, and Singapore.
But never fear! We shall persevere, as we always have. The show must go on, and we are in the process of locating our missing musicians and finding a new home for the Columbus Symphony Orchestra. Local research teams from The Ohio State University (go Buckeyes!) have already begun to study Mock Symphony Hall’s rich, biodiverse flora and fauna.
As such, we will be rescheduling future concerts, not canceling, and are not processing refunds at this time. We expect our season ticket holders to continue benefiting from our Orchestra’s rich musical prowess, once we either retrieve our original musicians or hire brand new talent.
And if anyone has found the escaped fire-breathing lion, please call local authorities. Don’t engage, don’t run, and whatever you do, do *not* join its religion.
Yours in melody,
President Frederick Wilshire
Columbus Symphony Orchestra Board of Directors | The students were all gathered in the auditorium for an assembly, an assembly where the high school band would be performing for them. A majority of the students sat down and slouched in their chairs, already dreading the hour-long performance that in their minds would last at least five. Sleeping wasn’t an option because teachers would be watching them watch the performance, and some of them could not afford a detention.
After everybody was seated, the band began filing onto the stage. The casual round of applause filled the auditorium. After the band members were seated, the conductor came out, bowed to the audience and then turned to the band. He then began waving his baton in a starting rhythm and the band started playing.
At first, things were pretty normal. Students were slouched in their seats, arms crossed or on the arms of the chairs, trying not to fall asleep or die of boredom.
But suddenly, as the conductor kept waving his baton, some of the students parked up as they noticed the outside doors swing open unexpectedly and a group of birds suddenly flew into the room. Students began talking, some of them screaming as the birds flew right by their heads. The teachers began scrambling to try and get the birds and get them out. Then, within an instant, they disappeared, and glitter sprinkled down onto the floor where the birds once flew.
As the teachers and students sat or stood dumbfounded and their jaws dropped onto the floor, they looked back up at the band and at the conductor, who were still casually playing as if they saw none of what just happened.
Moments later, something else happened. The principal of the school, who was quieting down some of the students suddenly began floating in the air. She began to panic as she suddenly started flying across the room. The students watching, some of them laughing hysterically and others watching in astonishment.
“WHOEVER IS DOING THIS! PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” She screamed as she continued flying across the room, as if anybody even knew who was causing it.
After about a minute, she was gently put back down on the ground. She was still visibly shaken from having flown around the room. Some of the students were shouting, “Me next! Me next!” Yet again, the band continued playing, as if they hadn’t seen anything yet again!
As the music reached its climax and was at its loudest, a large elephant suddenly appeared from backstage and started making its way into the audience. Some of the teachers and students quickly fled the room but most of them stayed, as the elephant seemed to just casual stroll up and down the aisles, not wanting to hurt anybody. As the music picked up sound, the elephant blared with sound. The students near the elephant covering its ears at the sound of the elephant being too much for their ears.
Then, once again, the elephant disappeared, this time, flowers gently swayed their way onto the floor. One student picked up a flower and handed it to the girl sitting next to him, the girl smiling and blushing.
Finally, the big conclusion of the song. As all the instruments started playing and filling the room with sound, all of the lights within the room, the auditorium lights, the stage lights, even the hallway lights, started flickering on and off uncontrollably. Then, once the music stopped, everything was completely black.
After at least ten seconds of being in total darkness, and also total silence, the lights came back on. Everybody was still silent for a moment. But a student, who seemed to have still been in a bit of shock from everything, slowly began clapping and standing up from his seat. Everybody else quickly followed after until their was a standing ovation.
The conductor smiled and did a bow.
“Thank you students and faculty for allowing me and my students to perform for you all.” The conductor said. “We hope you enjoyed that wonderful introduction. Including the birds, our principal flying across the room, the elephants and the lights.”
Everyone looked at each other and whispered.
*So they did know what was going on!*
*They sure did a good job of hiding it!*
“Yes, I know you all are surprised by everything you’ve just seen...” The conductor said. “But that was just the beginning!”
Everyone’s eyes widened as the conductor then turned around, prepping for the next song.
What else could there possibly be??? | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | It was easy—perhaps *too* easy—for Jaymes to replace the Oakwood Wand with the opposing Conductor's baton. The opposing team had been in considerably high spirits, as his bewitched spy had reported to him, for they had choreographed their most interesting, most daring routine yet. At another time Jaymes would have been prepared to take his word for it, but this time, the fourth time, he needed to see for himself, to experience it firsthand.
A little mumbo-jumbo here, a little wand-twirling there, and the memory had popped out of his brain and flickered into life like a film on a projector. A roar of rage had escaped him: it really *was* their best performance yet. His own team, the Ivory Incanters, had gotten complacent in their last three years of competition, worsened every year by their three consecutive losses to the Abraham Alleybats.
He had always been tempted to whip out his wand, bewitch them as he had done his faithful spy, but he had talked himself out of it. It would be too risky, enchanting the whole team. He had restrained himself, but he had seethed with fury, cursed his own stupidity and lack of decisiveness, each time. *No more*.
He devised a plan. He had sent his obedient servant to the place where they held practice, had him wait patiently until they were over, and then replace the Conductor's baton with the Oakwood Wand, morphed to resemble its double. And he had waited, waited until the next morning, where he watched with savage pleasure as pandemonium ensued onstage.
Explosions of light and fire, performers changed into animals, props turned into ghastly animations, which chased their old wielders around the stage, reaching for them with the claws that they had sprouted, biting at their ankles with the horrible fangs now protruding from their twisted mouths, as the crowd below watched, silent, aghast.
When he thought it had gone on long enough, Jaymes whispered a few well-chosen words, and the action ceased, though the damage had been done. The Incanters had already performed, as best as they could, but no matter how poor their best was, they were sure to win, for it would be infinitely better than the trainwreck they had just been forced to endure.
The judges got to their feet.
"Yes," Jaymes whispered malevolently.
"The Judges have decided," said Mr. Barkin, and Jaymes actually took a step forward, his hand raised even though he was feet away, "that after what we just saw ... the *clear* winners are ..."
Jaymes's terrible smile widened even further.
"The Alleybats!" Mr. Barkin cried, with every appearance of delight. It took Jaymes a few moments to register what he had heard.
"Why, thank you, Mr—wait, *what*?"
"I've never seen such a brilliant show!" Mrs. Waters said breathlessly. "Such beautiful effects—and *so* realistic!" The third Judge nodded furiously, tears of satisfaction actually leaking from under his heavily-hooded eyes. "Take it! Take it!" cried Mrs. Waters, holding out the trophy, now crying as well.
And one of the Alleybats, Jaymes's own spy, leapt gingerly down (he had been bitten on the ankle), seized the trophy, and returned to his allies who, though they clearly had not understood what had happened, burst into tears of joy, while Jaymes stared at them, thunderstruck.
If you enjoyed this, I write other (better) stuff on my personal sub r/MysticScribbles :) | The students were all gathered in the auditorium for an assembly, an assembly where the high school band would be performing for them. A majority of the students sat down and slouched in their chairs, already dreading the hour-long performance that in their minds would last at least five. Sleeping wasn’t an option because teachers would be watching them watch the performance, and some of them could not afford a detention.
After everybody was seated, the band began filing onto the stage. The casual round of applause filled the auditorium. After the band members were seated, the conductor came out, bowed to the audience and then turned to the band. He then began waving his baton in a starting rhythm and the band started playing.
At first, things were pretty normal. Students were slouched in their seats, arms crossed or on the arms of the chairs, trying not to fall asleep or die of boredom.
But suddenly, as the conductor kept waving his baton, some of the students parked up as they noticed the outside doors swing open unexpectedly and a group of birds suddenly flew into the room. Students began talking, some of them screaming as the birds flew right by their heads. The teachers began scrambling to try and get the birds and get them out. Then, within an instant, they disappeared, and glitter sprinkled down onto the floor where the birds once flew.
As the teachers and students sat or stood dumbfounded and their jaws dropped onto the floor, they looked back up at the band and at the conductor, who were still casually playing as if they saw none of what just happened.
Moments later, something else happened. The principal of the school, who was quieting down some of the students suddenly began floating in the air. She began to panic as she suddenly started flying across the room. The students watching, some of them laughing hysterically and others watching in astonishment.
“WHOEVER IS DOING THIS! PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” She screamed as she continued flying across the room, as if anybody even knew who was causing it.
After about a minute, she was gently put back down on the ground. She was still visibly shaken from having flown around the room. Some of the students were shouting, “Me next! Me next!” Yet again, the band continued playing, as if they hadn’t seen anything yet again!
As the music reached its climax and was at its loudest, a large elephant suddenly appeared from backstage and started making its way into the audience. Some of the teachers and students quickly fled the room but most of them stayed, as the elephant seemed to just casual stroll up and down the aisles, not wanting to hurt anybody. As the music picked up sound, the elephant blared with sound. The students near the elephant covering its ears at the sound of the elephant being too much for their ears.
Then, once again, the elephant disappeared, this time, flowers gently swayed their way onto the floor. One student picked up a flower and handed it to the girl sitting next to him, the girl smiling and blushing.
Finally, the big conclusion of the song. As all the instruments started playing and filling the room with sound, all of the lights within the room, the auditorium lights, the stage lights, even the hallway lights, started flickering on and off uncontrollably. Then, once the music stopped, everything was completely black.
After at least ten seconds of being in total darkness, and also total silence, the lights came back on. Everybody was still silent for a moment. But a student, who seemed to have still been in a bit of shock from everything, slowly began clapping and standing up from his seat. Everybody else quickly followed after until their was a standing ovation.
The conductor smiled and did a bow.
“Thank you students and faculty for allowing me and my students to perform for you all.” The conductor said. “We hope you enjoyed that wonderful introduction. Including the birds, our principal flying across the room, the elephants and the lights.”
Everyone looked at each other and whispered.
*So they did know what was going on!*
*They sure did a good job of hiding it!*
“Yes, I know you all are surprised by everything you’ve just seen...” The conductor said. “But that was just the beginning!”
Everyone’s eyes widened as the conductor then turned around, prepping for the next song.
What else could there possibly be??? | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | **The Moment Before**
There are certain moments in the world.
There is no way to describe these, moments except that anyone would recognize them when they occur. Eyes meeting before a kiss, an intake of breath before pulling the trigger, an exhale before stepping off the edge.
The moments that precede a climax.
And one such moment is sitting in a concert hall, the lights are dim, and there is no sound. You wait, breath held, thinking back to the rumors you’ve heard about the place. A place of magic. An unforgettable experience. You’ve heard them at dinner parties and office break rooms, and though you’ve never been an enthusiast, you always enjoy a good tune. Tonight, you’ve finally decided to see what all the hype is about.
You talked to the woman next to you, but when the lights had dimmed, you’d gone quiet along with everyone else. Moments turn to seconds, seconds to minutes. You’re uneasy. Restless. You begin to wonder why your eyes haven’t yet adjusted to the dark.
A light.
It is in front of the hall, floating in the air, the blue flame of some giant candle. You stare, transfixed, hypnotized by the soundless flickering of the flame. There is no sound. Not from the flame, not from the guests. Nothing. Seconds or eternities go by.
And then the music starts.
It doesn’t come from the stage, but everywhere at once.
Drums. Beat. Beat. Beat.
The flame pulses, with each beat, the heart of the hall, pumping music through the air. The pulses grow larger, more intense. They come faster and faster and faster, till your very own heart is beating at the same pace. The flame is growing bigger and you’re leaning forward in your seat. You need to move, run, anything!
And it stops.
You fall back in your seat. Panting, drained, and you notice the flame has grown, illuminating the musicians on the stage. The women wear white dresses with flowers that seem to move, and the men wear suits with the same alien pattern. You will later convince yourself that these were shadows cast by the hovering flame. They all wear masks.
A single voice, shatters the silence into a thousand pieces of glass, and the voice bounces off the shards. Another voice, then another. You can’t see their faces. Surely no human could create a sound so sharp that it could cut your heart.
Then the violins join. Then the harps. Instruments and sounds that make no sense, that you swear are impossible, yet there they are. Sounds from masked men and women, but they could’ve been aliens for all you care. Your eyes are only on the flame. It’s growing. Not just bigger, but…longer, thicker. Into a shape.
And when it uncoils you realize what it is. You gasp.
It grows and grows. You see the arms and the legs, and the fingers. You don’t know what is going on. You know nothing but the music, but you can’t even hear it.
The flame floats to the stage and explodes.
Then there is sound. The gasps of the crowd. A few sobs. Even an anguished scream. And on the stage, instead of a scorched circle, there is a woman. She wears a flowing red dress, red gloves that stretch to her elbows and her crimson hair is pulled into a design of a flame. In her hand she holds a rose like a conducting stick. She gives a smile, a bow, and disappears.
The hall is dark again for a moment, before the Exit signs light up. You follow with the rest of the crowd, toward the exit and out. Behind you, the lights turn on. You could look. You could see the device they used to make the flame. You could see what their dresses were, perhaps chat up one of the musicians and ask how it was done.
But you don’t turn back.
If it was all a dream, you don’t really want to know.
***
Hope you enjoyed! This was mostly an exercise in imagery rather than any solid plot – inspired by the wonderful novel, *The Night Circus.* Haven't written on here in a while, and would appreciate any feedback :) | The students were all gathered in the auditorium for an assembly, an assembly where the high school band would be performing for them. A majority of the students sat down and slouched in their chairs, already dreading the hour-long performance that in their minds would last at least five. Sleeping wasn’t an option because teachers would be watching them watch the performance, and some of them could not afford a detention.
After everybody was seated, the band began filing onto the stage. The casual round of applause filled the auditorium. After the band members were seated, the conductor came out, bowed to the audience and then turned to the band. He then began waving his baton in a starting rhythm and the band started playing.
At first, things were pretty normal. Students were slouched in their seats, arms crossed or on the arms of the chairs, trying not to fall asleep or die of boredom.
But suddenly, as the conductor kept waving his baton, some of the students parked up as they noticed the outside doors swing open unexpectedly and a group of birds suddenly flew into the room. Students began talking, some of them screaming as the birds flew right by their heads. The teachers began scrambling to try and get the birds and get them out. Then, within an instant, they disappeared, and glitter sprinkled down onto the floor where the birds once flew.
As the teachers and students sat or stood dumbfounded and their jaws dropped onto the floor, they looked back up at the band and at the conductor, who were still casually playing as if they saw none of what just happened.
Moments later, something else happened. The principal of the school, who was quieting down some of the students suddenly began floating in the air. She began to panic as she suddenly started flying across the room. The students watching, some of them laughing hysterically and others watching in astonishment.
“WHOEVER IS DOING THIS! PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” She screamed as she continued flying across the room, as if anybody even knew who was causing it.
After about a minute, she was gently put back down on the ground. She was still visibly shaken from having flown around the room. Some of the students were shouting, “Me next! Me next!” Yet again, the band continued playing, as if they hadn’t seen anything yet again!
As the music reached its climax and was at its loudest, a large elephant suddenly appeared from backstage and started making its way into the audience. Some of the teachers and students quickly fled the room but most of them stayed, as the elephant seemed to just casual stroll up and down the aisles, not wanting to hurt anybody. As the music picked up sound, the elephant blared with sound. The students near the elephant covering its ears at the sound of the elephant being too much for their ears.
Then, once again, the elephant disappeared, this time, flowers gently swayed their way onto the floor. One student picked up a flower and handed it to the girl sitting next to him, the girl smiling and blushing.
Finally, the big conclusion of the song. As all the instruments started playing and filling the room with sound, all of the lights within the room, the auditorium lights, the stage lights, even the hallway lights, started flickering on and off uncontrollably. Then, once the music stopped, everything was completely black.
After at least ten seconds of being in total darkness, and also total silence, the lights came back on. Everybody was still silent for a moment. But a student, who seemed to have still been in a bit of shock from everything, slowly began clapping and standing up from his seat. Everybody else quickly followed after until their was a standing ovation.
The conductor smiled and did a bow.
“Thank you students and faculty for allowing me and my students to perform for you all.” The conductor said. “We hope you enjoyed that wonderful introduction. Including the birds, our principal flying across the room, the elephants and the lights.”
Everyone looked at each other and whispered.
*So they did know what was going on!*
*They sure did a good job of hiding it!*
“Yes, I know you all are surprised by everything you’ve just seen...” The conductor said. “But that was just the beginning!”
Everyone’s eyes widened as the conductor then turned around, prepping for the next song.
What else could there possibly be??? | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | I suppose we all should have noticed something was different during tune-up. When the Second chair bassoon's bassoon turned into a baboon, everybody thought it was just Gary winding everybody up, like he always does. Everyone clapped and laughed heartily as he ran screaming backstage. "Such a good joke, Gary!" some chortled. "Exit stage right, chased by a baboon," a Shakespeare fan shouted.
We settled in, wondering where Gary was, that it was taking a joke a little too far to miss the start of a concert!
But the show must go on. The conductor's baton tapped the stand to get our attention, and suddenly the violas all turned into violets! A shocked silence rippled across the stage. Too late! The curtain was raising! Oh no!
So there we were, in front of an audience expecting to hear the crash of an orchestra. What to do? The show must go on!
We raised our instruments. The flutes were to start us off, but as soon as the conductor pointed at them, apples and oranges and pears dropped into their laps! No matter, the violins came in to harmonize with a missing woodwind section. Phew, we were off, but not with a general sense of bewilderment. Looks were exchanged across the stage, as the first peals of laughter could be heard from the seats. What next?
The conductor was oblivious. Old Georgie, once the music started, he closed his eyes and was always in his own little world. He swung his arms with a furious energy. He was oblivious. But what were we in for? What was next?
It was the piccolos. The salty smell of dill pickles wafted across the stage as their part started. Instead of a light melody it was yelps of dismay from their section.
More yelps of surprise came from the tubas! No longer were they blowing into their mouthpieces, but rather the mouth of some rather surprised tunas!
There was a rumble, not from the tympanis, but from the mad dash off the stage. Some with instruments still in their hands hightailed it off to save precious (and expensive!) posessions. But some of us stayed out of sheer dumb curiosity. I wanted to know what happened next.
What happened next? Chaos. The bass turned into striped bass, marimbas into marigolds, oboes into orioles. I could barely move I was laughing so hard!
But the last of us finally had enough when the violins turned into some very surprised pit vipers. Hissing from the very, very angry vipers was the last thing resembling music that came from the stage. Several music stands toppled to the ground as we dashed away from the menagerie on the stage, fast as our toes could carry us. The stage was now bereft of the orchestra.
Except for old Georgie. He arms never stopped furiously waving as he brought us to a stirring creshendo and a crashing finale! When he opened his eyes to an empty stage, except for a couple stray snakes, he was utterly confused. The crashing he had been hearing was the crashing laughter of the audience. Embarassed, he turned around.
The crowd lept to its feet, showering him with applause for his and our amazing feat. It was said that there was never a concert like our performance. Decades passed and still the adoring crowds poured in, for our famous rendition of The Four Seasons. | The students were all gathered in the auditorium for an assembly, an assembly where the high school band would be performing for them. A majority of the students sat down and slouched in their chairs, already dreading the hour-long performance that in their minds would last at least five. Sleeping wasn’t an option because teachers would be watching them watch the performance, and some of them could not afford a detention.
After everybody was seated, the band began filing onto the stage. The casual round of applause filled the auditorium. After the band members were seated, the conductor came out, bowed to the audience and then turned to the band. He then began waving his baton in a starting rhythm and the band started playing.
At first, things were pretty normal. Students were slouched in their seats, arms crossed or on the arms of the chairs, trying not to fall asleep or die of boredom.
But suddenly, as the conductor kept waving his baton, some of the students parked up as they noticed the outside doors swing open unexpectedly and a group of birds suddenly flew into the room. Students began talking, some of them screaming as the birds flew right by their heads. The teachers began scrambling to try and get the birds and get them out. Then, within an instant, they disappeared, and glitter sprinkled down onto the floor where the birds once flew.
As the teachers and students sat or stood dumbfounded and their jaws dropped onto the floor, they looked back up at the band and at the conductor, who were still casually playing as if they saw none of what just happened.
Moments later, something else happened. The principal of the school, who was quieting down some of the students suddenly began floating in the air. She began to panic as she suddenly started flying across the room. The students watching, some of them laughing hysterically and others watching in astonishment.
“WHOEVER IS DOING THIS! PUT ME DOWN! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!” She screamed as she continued flying across the room, as if anybody even knew who was causing it.
After about a minute, she was gently put back down on the ground. She was still visibly shaken from having flown around the room. Some of the students were shouting, “Me next! Me next!” Yet again, the band continued playing, as if they hadn’t seen anything yet again!
As the music reached its climax and was at its loudest, a large elephant suddenly appeared from backstage and started making its way into the audience. Some of the teachers and students quickly fled the room but most of them stayed, as the elephant seemed to just casual stroll up and down the aisles, not wanting to hurt anybody. As the music picked up sound, the elephant blared with sound. The students near the elephant covering its ears at the sound of the elephant being too much for their ears.
Then, once again, the elephant disappeared, this time, flowers gently swayed their way onto the floor. One student picked up a flower and handed it to the girl sitting next to him, the girl smiling and blushing.
Finally, the big conclusion of the song. As all the instruments started playing and filling the room with sound, all of the lights within the room, the auditorium lights, the stage lights, even the hallway lights, started flickering on and off uncontrollably. Then, once the music stopped, everything was completely black.
After at least ten seconds of being in total darkness, and also total silence, the lights came back on. Everybody was still silent for a moment. But a student, who seemed to have still been in a bit of shock from everything, slowly began clapping and standing up from his seat. Everybody else quickly followed after until their was a standing ovation.
The conductor smiled and did a bow.
“Thank you students and faculty for allowing me and my students to perform for you all.” The conductor said. “We hope you enjoyed that wonderful introduction. Including the birds, our principal flying across the room, the elephants and the lights.”
Everyone looked at each other and whispered.
*So they did know what was going on!*
*They sure did a good job of hiding it!*
“Yes, I know you all are surprised by everything you’ve just seen...” The conductor said. “But that was just the beginning!”
Everyone’s eyes widened as the conductor then turned around, prepping for the next song.
What else could there possibly be??? | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | Leon M. Weber was never an interesting man. 5'10, mid 40s and the epitome of a middle aged white man. He spent his time in either the theater, or his tiny apartment next to a local coffee shop. Every morning at 7 am, Leon would trim his uneven stuble, and dress appropriately depending on if there is rehersal or a concert. Normally, he would wear a clean pair of dark jeans and an ironed button up shirt, or formal dress shirt and pants for a concert. However today was a special day. He couldn't sinply put on his normal outfit for this occassion.
After a beautiful concert he and his orchestra put their entire heart and soul into, the owner of the Grand Elias Meyer theater, Lukas Meyer, personally thanked Leon for the exquisite performance. Lukas then offered him a business card and implied that a good performance at his theater could mean a weekly contract.
To prepare for this opportunity, Leon scraped together his meager savings, and purchased a tailored suit and left just enough money to purchase a new baton. His current baton was battered from frequent taps against his music stand and a bad habit of hitting something when one of the musicians messes up on the key signature. In order to purchase a new baton, Leon went to the nearest music store. As he approached the entrance, a paper sign was posted on the aged wooden door. "Due to the financial distress caused by the economic depression, we will unfortunately have to close our doors." Dejected and having no other option, Leon started walking back to his car. However out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mass of discarded music, broken instruments, and tools. Being a conductor, he often purchases strings and fixes various instruments for his orchestra in order to keep things running smoothly. Seeing this as an opportunity, he dug through the pile and found several usable strings, and some rosin. Right before finishing his shameless dumpster dive, something for a split second glistened in front of him. Perplexed, he grabbed the clear plastic tube and found exactly what he had come for.
This baton was definitely something special. It was an ornate mahogany wand with a beautiful ruby at the base and had a crystal insert at the tip. Leon could not believe his luck. This baton could have easily costed hundreds of dollars and was suprised that such a thing would be thrown out. Excitedly, he went home, got dressed in his new suit, and drove the hour and a half to the new concert venue.
Time drew closer to the time for the performance. He and his orchestra had practiced for many days to prepare for this moment. Before starting, he got one last G in for tuning. This was the moment for Leon to prove himself.
The intro to the music went smooth. Every musician knew exactly what needed to be done. Leon simply listened to the music, and lead the orchestra to the desired location. Then something changed in him. His conducting didn't feel right even if the motions were correct. After a few more seconds, Leon couldn't resist the urge to "fix" his movements. That is when the magic happened.
He closed his eyes, conecentrated very hard on what his urges were, and changed his baton movements. That is when the music changed completely. The audience audibly gasped as the dynamic of the music changed. Alarmed, Leon opened his eyes to see whats changed. The room filled with warm glowing embers that were not hot to the touch. All kinds of known and unknown instruments floated about the room, gently supporting the orchestra with new harmonies and chords. As the orchestra approached the climax of the concerto, angel made of light floated down to sing the final few melodies. This was truely Leon's most magical night.
If you are reading this message, thank you very much for reading through. This is my first attempt at writing on this subreddit. There will probably be some spelling and gramtical errors. Also could probably use some better word choice. If you see anything that could be changed let me know. | I should start by saying: I’ve never taken a psychedelic drug. Not ever, not once.
But that concert - I’m guessing that if I ever had, this would top any LSD trip.
The first sign that something was different was the music itself. At first, it was exactly what we thought it would be - the beginnings of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. The trill of the clarinet leading to a long ascending breath seemed to cut through the crisp autumn air like a knife. It seemed to be a great way to hear a concert outdoors and relax on a blanket.
But as the band began playing, and the conductor kept leading, something bizarre happened. The sky started - shimmering, I guess? It seemed that the clouds were also somehow keeping time, moving up and down with the rhythm of the beat. Then, as the horns played their first notes, the sky itself changed color, from the dusky blue of late evening to a mid-day cerulean. The burst of energy from the horns caused everything to turn sharper, more pleasant looking. It was as if, for a moment, the conductor wasn’t just managing the orchestra - he was helping to see how Gershwin wanted us to feel.
The piece continued, with everyone slowly appreciating that something wonderful was happening. As time progressed, we could see the baton wasn’t a baton at all, but a wand - a real, honest to goodness magic wand - that was helping us see and feel the music we were hearing in ways never before experienced. It became more than just seeing colors - I started tasting the anticipation in the air. Literally, I could taste - was it raspberry? Blackberry? Some berry fruit of some kind.
The conductor, as surprised as the rest of us, could see the wand beginning to glow in his hand. Instead of stopping, though, he smiled, brushed back his long white hair, and raised his hand and the wand, signaling to the brass section to get louder and push harder. We were in it now.
As our environment began changing around us, as nature slowly responded to the music with tempos of wind and melodies of color, the strangest thing still to be discovered. Not that magic was real, or we were its first witnesses in who knows how long - no, it was that no one, not a single person, had pulled their phone from their pocket to record it. In fact, there wasn’t anyone there who was even seemingly tempted. Parents, grandparents, children, couples, everyone - we stayed present with the experience, knowing that this may never happen again. | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | It was the evening 7th and 8th-grade orchestra concert. As the stage lights flickered on, the audience quieted down to a low hush. I, sitting in my usual spot of second chair, first violin, looked expectantly at the front of the stage for the conductor to walk on stage. Everyone began clapping when he walked on stage and we got into our positions when he rose onto the podium. Today, we would be performing the Haydn D major concerto for solo piano and orchestra, and our pianist was already set up in front of us. So, the conductor raised his baton and gave us the cue.
Suddenly, our concertmaster stood up and walked to the front of the stage. The orchestra stopped playing and looked at the conductor, alarmed. The conductor looked just as surprised. The boy took a deep breath and began yodeling! The audience began to laugh and clap, and the entire orchestra just looked scared. The first chair cello player set his instrument down and began whispering to the conductor. After a few moments, the conductor nodded and motioned for us to begin the concerto once again. We played on and for about a minute, nothing happened.
Then, the piano started to sound like a bird chirping! The pianist, completely caught off guard, didn't know what had happened and stopped playing. The conductor looked behind him and saw her not playing. He furiously motioned at her to play and she hesitantly put her finger on a key. It chirped in triple fortissimo and the audience covered their ears. Babies started bawling and this concert was turning out to be a complete disaster. The first chair boy was now sitting cross-legged on top of the grand piano.
But it was all going to get better! With the next wave of the conductor's baton, Bob Ross appeared next to the piano. He was painting a snow scene and said his usual motivational phrases. One audience member even ran up to him and asked for his autograph. Bob Ross disappeared and in his place was a blue whale that looked completely out of place. Then appeared an angry old man who yelled, 'You're all OUT OF TUNE! Call the intonation police!'. At this point, the concerto became for only orchestra and we were pretending not to care about what happened.
My violin started floating away from me. I tried to pull it back, but its pull was too hard and I had to let go of it if I wanted to keep my arms. A bass came towards me and put on a funny face and tried to play the bass. It sounded horrible, and that's when I realized that everyone had gotten their instruments swapped! We sounded so disoriented and we weren't together at all. I looked in the audience and made sure my dad was recording this. Good, he was. The bass started going away too, but I grabbed onto it and floated away with it. The bass got returned, the violin thrust into my arms and a gust of wind forced me back into my chair.
A big 'BANG' was heard from the ceiling of the stage. It was known to leak, so I got a little frightened. I braced myself for a drop of water on my head, but lo! Gallons of disgusting green slime poured onto each orchestra members' heads! We started to have war, throwing slime at the audience and at each other. The poor conductor was struggling with everyone, yelling for us to come back. I looked up and realized we were going to have another dose of slime. I grabbed my chair and my instrument and hid under my chair. Motioning for others to do the same, I took cover.
The conductor finally gave up and ended the concerto with the one remaining orchestra who was still playing, the first chair viola. The slime-covered audience clapped, cheered, and whooped. We all got up and bowed, once, once again, once more. Everyone was loving it, even my mother who was more serious than fun. The first chair boy got up and started dancing and everyone cheered. I smiled. I wish this could happen more often. I got a chunk of slime and put it in my hair. | I should start by saying: I’ve never taken a psychedelic drug. Not ever, not once.
But that concert - I’m guessing that if I ever had, this would top any LSD trip.
The first sign that something was different was the music itself. At first, it was exactly what we thought it would be - the beginnings of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. The trill of the clarinet leading to a long ascending breath seemed to cut through the crisp autumn air like a knife. It seemed to be a great way to hear a concert outdoors and relax on a blanket.
But as the band began playing, and the conductor kept leading, something bizarre happened. The sky started - shimmering, I guess? It seemed that the clouds were also somehow keeping time, moving up and down with the rhythm of the beat. Then, as the horns played their first notes, the sky itself changed color, from the dusky blue of late evening to a mid-day cerulean. The burst of energy from the horns caused everything to turn sharper, more pleasant looking. It was as if, for a moment, the conductor wasn’t just managing the orchestra - he was helping to see how Gershwin wanted us to feel.
The piece continued, with everyone slowly appreciating that something wonderful was happening. As time progressed, we could see the baton wasn’t a baton at all, but a wand - a real, honest to goodness magic wand - that was helping us see and feel the music we were hearing in ways never before experienced. It became more than just seeing colors - I started tasting the anticipation in the air. Literally, I could taste - was it raspberry? Blackberry? Some berry fruit of some kind.
The conductor, as surprised as the rest of us, could see the wand beginning to glow in his hand. Instead of stopping, though, he smiled, brushed back his long white hair, and raised his hand and the wand, signaling to the brass section to get louder and push harder. We were in it now.
As our environment began changing around us, as nature slowly responded to the music with tempos of wind and melodies of color, the strangest thing still to be discovered. Not that magic was real, or we were its first witnesses in who knows how long - no, it was that no one, not a single person, had pulled their phone from their pocket to record it. In fact, there wasn’t anyone there who was even seemingly tempted. Parents, grandparents, children, couples, everyone - we stayed present with the experience, knowing that this may never happen again. | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | "You're taking her where?" my flatmate looked at me in shock. The bottle of Heineken in his hand frozen just out of reach of his mouth.
"A philharmonic concert. They're doing scores from movies. Could be good. Come on, man. Please let me borrow your tux."
"What the hell do you know about philharmonic orchestras?"
"Nothing. But her profile is so intimidating, she's way too intelligent for me. I have to show that I'm interested in cultural and intellectual activities. And I love movies, you gotta admit that."
Jake slugged on his bottle, "Yep but that's not the same thing as going to philharmonic concerts. Do you even know what philharmonic means?"
I winked at him, "Harmonics made by Phil?"
"You're an idiot."
"Can I please have your tux? Please?"
He laughed. "Sure but you'll need more than a tux to save you."
\----------
She looked beautiful. Dressed in a full-length red gown and matching heels, her hair straightened and cascading down her back, I was greeted by a peck on the cheek.
"Wow, Helen, wow" I mustered.
"Thanks. You look great yourself. Very smart tuxedo. Suits you," she smiled at me. I could swear her teeth sparkled under the lights of the concert hall lobby.
'Marry me,' I thought to myself.
\----------
We took our seats and soon all the musicians had taken their places. They were followed by the conductor; a tall, elegant man with a moustache straight out of the 19th century.
'Yep, that's about right. What on earth am I doing?' I questioned myself.
That's when things started....happening.
The conductor tapped his baton three times on the podium and raised it dramatically in the air. At that very instant, a white light shot out from the baton into the rafters above. Dust fell on to the conductor and the musicians.
Professionally ignoring what just happened, the conductor waved his baton into the air in a zig-zag form and directed it at the violin section. They froze. Literally. Becoming covered by large blocks of ice.
"What the f--" I turned to Helen, relieved to see she had the same look of disbelief written on her face.
"I've never heard of that happening before," she told me, her voice cracking with surprise.
The members of the audience all beginning murmuring and the musicians were stood up, conversing between themselves, standing well away from their colleagues. Some summoned enough courage to poke at them with flutes or cello bows as if verifying whether a body is dead or just sleeping.
The conductor coughed and seemed determined to soldier on. He tapped his baton again, twice this time and brandished it from left to right before aiming it at the pianist. Who proceeded to turn into a bronze statue. Someone screamed. The oboist fainted.
By now the spectators were all stood from their seats. Many had even begun to make their to the exits when the conductor turned to face them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we some to be experiencing some....technical difficulties. Please do excuse us. We shall try to get this matter under control. Please remain seated. There is no need to panic."
He clasped his hands together with his baton sticking out and another white light was emitted into the air. More dust fell, followed by some bits of wood.
The conductor looked at his baton and then appeared to smirk. He pointed it at a few empty seats and a bolt of black shot out and set the chairs alight. This is when Helen and I decided to make a run for it. Flashes of black and white followed as the conductor had now seemingly decided to create his own music. Exploding chairs or setting them alight in rhythm to whatever melody was filling his thoughts.
\--------------
We were back at the flat. I handed Helen a large glass of whisky.
"I guess that will be a first date that we'll always remember. Something to tell the grandkids," I joked.
She gulped down the glass and looked at me, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've got to admit something. I don't even like philharmonic concerts. When you asked me to go to one, I had to check up what it was. I thought it was harmonics made by someone called Phil." She smiled the most wonderful smile I had ever seen, warmth seeming to glow from it and into my very being.
'Marry me,' I repeated to myself.
She continued, "I made some stuff up on my profile to sound more intelligent because my taste of guy is usually...well, kinda shit. So I decided to look for different types of guys. Sorry, I hope you don't mind?"
I laughed, "No, no, of course not. This is a borrowed tux from my flatmate. And that Phil guy must be psycho if all those concerts are like that."
We both smiled and our eyes locked.
'Marry me,' I thought. | I should start by saying: I’ve never taken a psychedelic drug. Not ever, not once.
But that concert - I’m guessing that if I ever had, this would top any LSD trip.
The first sign that something was different was the music itself. At first, it was exactly what we thought it would be - the beginnings of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. The trill of the clarinet leading to a long ascending breath seemed to cut through the crisp autumn air like a knife. It seemed to be a great way to hear a concert outdoors and relax on a blanket.
But as the band began playing, and the conductor kept leading, something bizarre happened. The sky started - shimmering, I guess? It seemed that the clouds were also somehow keeping time, moving up and down with the rhythm of the beat. Then, as the horns played their first notes, the sky itself changed color, from the dusky blue of late evening to a mid-day cerulean. The burst of energy from the horns caused everything to turn sharper, more pleasant looking. It was as if, for a moment, the conductor wasn’t just managing the orchestra - he was helping to see how Gershwin wanted us to feel.
The piece continued, with everyone slowly appreciating that something wonderful was happening. As time progressed, we could see the baton wasn’t a baton at all, but a wand - a real, honest to goodness magic wand - that was helping us see and feel the music we were hearing in ways never before experienced. It became more than just seeing colors - I started tasting the anticipation in the air. Literally, I could taste - was it raspberry? Blackberry? Some berry fruit of some kind.
The conductor, as surprised as the rest of us, could see the wand beginning to glow in his hand. Instead of stopping, though, he smiled, brushed back his long white hair, and raised his hand and the wand, signaling to the brass section to get louder and push harder. We were in it now.
As our environment began changing around us, as nature slowly responded to the music with tempos of wind and melodies of color, the strangest thing still to be discovered. Not that magic was real, or we were its first witnesses in who knows how long - no, it was that no one, not a single person, had pulled their phone from their pocket to record it. In fact, there wasn’t anyone there who was even seemingly tempted. Parents, grandparents, children, couples, everyone - we stayed present with the experience, knowing that this may never happen again. | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | To our beloved Columbus Symphony Orchestra family,
Well, I certainly did not expect to be writing this letter. As the President of the Board, I have truly never experienced such an event in my fifteen years directing and running the premier classical music organization within the Biggest Small Town in America. We love our city, we love our musicians, and we certainly love all of our members.
What happened on Friday evening has made me speechless. I am penning you this on Sunday afternoon, still mulling over the implications of the event and what it means for the future of our Orchestra.
First things first: none of us are sure how the conductor’s baton got swapped for a magic wand. We are not sure where the magic wand is now, or if it was destroyed. All we can say for sure is that the concert was unforgettable. Perhaps we shall always associate *Carmina Burana* with such awe inspiring magic.
As those of you who were present at Geraldine Fredritz Mock Symphony Hall or tuned into the Zoom livestream on Friday evening remember how it began. Oh, how wonderful and surprising it was! As soon as the orchestra struck the first chords of *Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi* we noticed the thunder above, the ribbons of light dancing around the hall, and the warm breezes that smelled distinctly of cedar and roses.
When the chorus joined the music, their voices rang out in all languages. How wondrous that we could all understand the original Latin as if we were native speakers!
Of course, who could forget the woodwinds, literally turning their gorgeous music into sprouting trees and flowers, creating the woods around them?
Or the trumpets and trombones, turning at times into large elephants or lions and adding their own sounds to the mix.
And the percussion section -- my goodness, the glittering visuals that accompanied their crashing and booming will remain in my mind’s eye for the rest of my life.
The orchestra played on, performing the scenic cantata to their fullest.
Which brings us finally to the reprise at the end. This brings me to one line, found along the drawing of the Fortuna Wheel that appears on the Burana Codex:
*Regnabo, Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno.*
(I shall reign, I reign, I have reigned, I am without a realm.)
We all did reign during that performance. We were entranced. We ruled amongst the world of magic, no longer bound to our current realm.
Then the musicians all disappeared.
Authorities have been notified, as have their families. This disappearance and the subsequent transformation of Mock Symphony Hall into a large forest, full of wild animals that rarely appear together in worldly environs, has been noted and compared to similar events in the Arctic, South Africa, and Singapore.
But never fear! We shall persevere, as we always have. The show must go on, and we are in the process of locating our missing musicians and finding a new home for the Columbus Symphony Orchestra. Local research teams from The Ohio State University (go Buckeyes!) have already begun to study Mock Symphony Hall’s rich, biodiverse flora and fauna.
As such, we will be rescheduling future concerts, not canceling, and are not processing refunds at this time. We expect our season ticket holders to continue benefiting from our Orchestra’s rich musical prowess, once we either retrieve our original musicians or hire brand new talent.
And if anyone has found the escaped fire-breathing lion, please call local authorities. Don’t engage, don’t run, and whatever you do, do *not* join its religion.
Yours in melody,
President Frederick Wilshire
Columbus Symphony Orchestra Board of Directors | I should start by saying: I’ve never taken a psychedelic drug. Not ever, not once.
But that concert - I’m guessing that if I ever had, this would top any LSD trip.
The first sign that something was different was the music itself. At first, it was exactly what we thought it would be - the beginnings of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. The trill of the clarinet leading to a long ascending breath seemed to cut through the crisp autumn air like a knife. It seemed to be a great way to hear a concert outdoors and relax on a blanket.
But as the band began playing, and the conductor kept leading, something bizarre happened. The sky started - shimmering, I guess? It seemed that the clouds were also somehow keeping time, moving up and down with the rhythm of the beat. Then, as the horns played their first notes, the sky itself changed color, from the dusky blue of late evening to a mid-day cerulean. The burst of energy from the horns caused everything to turn sharper, more pleasant looking. It was as if, for a moment, the conductor wasn’t just managing the orchestra - he was helping to see how Gershwin wanted us to feel.
The piece continued, with everyone slowly appreciating that something wonderful was happening. As time progressed, we could see the baton wasn’t a baton at all, but a wand - a real, honest to goodness magic wand - that was helping us see and feel the music we were hearing in ways never before experienced. It became more than just seeing colors - I started tasting the anticipation in the air. Literally, I could taste - was it raspberry? Blackberry? Some berry fruit of some kind.
The conductor, as surprised as the rest of us, could see the wand beginning to glow in his hand. Instead of stopping, though, he smiled, brushed back his long white hair, and raised his hand and the wand, signaling to the brass section to get louder and push harder. We were in it now.
As our environment began changing around us, as nature slowly responded to the music with tempos of wind and melodies of color, the strangest thing still to be discovered. Not that magic was real, or we were its first witnesses in who knows how long - no, it was that no one, not a single person, had pulled their phone from their pocket to record it. In fact, there wasn’t anyone there who was even seemingly tempted. Parents, grandparents, children, couples, everyone - we stayed present with the experience, knowing that this may never happen again. | |
[WP] We're not sure how the Conductor's baton got swapped for a magic wand. All we can say for sure is that the concert was truly unforgettable. | To our beloved Columbus Symphony Orchestra family,
Well, I certainly did not expect to be writing this letter. As the President of the Board, I have truly never experienced such an event in my fifteen years directing and running the premier classical music organization within the Biggest Small Town in America. We love our city, we love our musicians, and we certainly love all of our members.
What happened on Friday evening has made me speechless. I am penning you this on Sunday afternoon, still mulling over the implications of the event and what it means for the future of our Orchestra.
First things first: none of us are sure how the conductor’s baton got swapped for a magic wand. We are not sure where the magic wand is now, or if it was destroyed. All we can say for sure is that the concert was unforgettable. Perhaps we shall always associate *Carmina Burana* with such awe inspiring magic.
As those of you who were present at Geraldine Fredritz Mock Symphony Hall or tuned into the Zoom livestream on Friday evening remember how it began. Oh, how wonderful and surprising it was! As soon as the orchestra struck the first chords of *Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi* we noticed the thunder above, the ribbons of light dancing around the hall, and the warm breezes that smelled distinctly of cedar and roses.
When the chorus joined the music, their voices rang out in all languages. How wondrous that we could all understand the original Latin as if we were native speakers!
Of course, who could forget the woodwinds, literally turning their gorgeous music into sprouting trees and flowers, creating the woods around them?
Or the trumpets and trombones, turning at times into large elephants or lions and adding their own sounds to the mix.
And the percussion section -- my goodness, the glittering visuals that accompanied their crashing and booming will remain in my mind’s eye for the rest of my life.
The orchestra played on, performing the scenic cantata to their fullest.
Which brings us finally to the reprise at the end. This brings me to one line, found along the drawing of the Fortuna Wheel that appears on the Burana Codex:
*Regnabo, Regno, Regnavi, Sum sine regno.*
(I shall reign, I reign, I have reigned, I am without a realm.)
We all did reign during that performance. We were entranced. We ruled amongst the world of magic, no longer bound to our current realm.
Then the musicians all disappeared.
Authorities have been notified, as have their families. This disappearance and the subsequent transformation of Mock Symphony Hall into a large forest, full of wild animals that rarely appear together in worldly environs, has been noted and compared to similar events in the Arctic, South Africa, and Singapore.
But never fear! We shall persevere, as we always have. The show must go on, and we are in the process of locating our missing musicians and finding a new home for the Columbus Symphony Orchestra. Local research teams from The Ohio State University (go Buckeyes!) have already begun to study Mock Symphony Hall’s rich, biodiverse flora and fauna.
As such, we will be rescheduling future concerts, not canceling, and are not processing refunds at this time. We expect our season ticket holders to continue benefiting from our Orchestra’s rich musical prowess, once we either retrieve our original musicians or hire brand new talent.
And if anyone has found the escaped fire-breathing lion, please call local authorities. Don’t engage, don’t run, and whatever you do, do *not* join its religion.
Yours in melody,
President Frederick Wilshire
Columbus Symphony Orchestra Board of Directors | Leon M. Weber was never an interesting man. 5'10, mid 40s and the epitome of a middle aged white man. He spent his time in either the theater, or his tiny apartment next to a local coffee shop. Every morning at 7 am, Leon would trim his uneven stuble, and dress appropriately depending on if there is rehersal or a concert. Normally, he would wear a clean pair of dark jeans and an ironed button up shirt, or formal dress shirt and pants for a concert. However today was a special day. He couldn't sinply put on his normal outfit for this occassion.
After a beautiful concert he and his orchestra put their entire heart and soul into, the owner of the Grand Elias Meyer theater, Lukas Meyer, personally thanked Leon for the exquisite performance. Lukas then offered him a business card and implied that a good performance at his theater could mean a weekly contract.
To prepare for this opportunity, Leon scraped together his meager savings, and purchased a tailored suit and left just enough money to purchase a new baton. His current baton was battered from frequent taps against his music stand and a bad habit of hitting something when one of the musicians messes up on the key signature. In order to purchase a new baton, Leon went to the nearest music store. As he approached the entrance, a paper sign was posted on the aged wooden door. "Due to the financial distress caused by the economic depression, we will unfortunately have to close our doors." Dejected and having no other option, Leon started walking back to his car. However out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mass of discarded music, broken instruments, and tools. Being a conductor, he often purchases strings and fixes various instruments for his orchestra in order to keep things running smoothly. Seeing this as an opportunity, he dug through the pile and found several usable strings, and some rosin. Right before finishing his shameless dumpster dive, something for a split second glistened in front of him. Perplexed, he grabbed the clear plastic tube and found exactly what he had come for.
This baton was definitely something special. It was an ornate mahogany wand with a beautiful ruby at the base and had a crystal insert at the tip. Leon could not believe his luck. This baton could have easily costed hundreds of dollars and was suprised that such a thing would be thrown out. Excitedly, he went home, got dressed in his new suit, and drove the hour and a half to the new concert venue.
Time drew closer to the time for the performance. He and his orchestra had practiced for many days to prepare for this moment. Before starting, he got one last G in for tuning. This was the moment for Leon to prove himself.
The intro to the music went smooth. Every musician knew exactly what needed to be done. Leon simply listened to the music, and lead the orchestra to the desired location. Then something changed in him. His conducting didn't feel right even if the motions were correct. After a few more seconds, Leon couldn't resist the urge to "fix" his movements. That is when the magic happened.
He closed his eyes, conecentrated very hard on what his urges were, and changed his baton movements. That is when the music changed completely. The audience audibly gasped as the dynamic of the music changed. Alarmed, Leon opened his eyes to see whats changed. The room filled with warm glowing embers that were not hot to the touch. All kinds of known and unknown instruments floated about the room, gently supporting the orchestra with new harmonies and chords. As the orchestra approached the climax of the concerto, angel made of light floated down to sing the final few melodies. This was truely Leon's most magical night.
If you are reading this message, thank you very much for reading through. This is my first attempt at writing on this subreddit. There will probably be some spelling and gramtical errors. Also could probably use some better word choice. If you see anything that could be changed let me know. | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | The Argiope on the my window garden had gone missing this morning. It had been a resident of my terrace garden of my room ever since two weeks ago. It was nice, a passive spider taking care of my windowsill flowers by getting rid of pests but somehow allowing butterflies and bees to pollinate my flowers---if it wasn't hungry, that is.
In order to look for it, I decided to clean my room.
The first thing I thought of as I cleaned my room was a bird. A bird had come to eat it. Now, with leggy boi gone, pests would come and kill my flowers, the flowers I took care of since my childhood days. But there were no birds at this time of autumn; they had all gone home to prepare for the winter.
The next thing I thought of was that I squished it by accident, but I quickly dismissed it. The little Argiope was too cute and colorful for me to squish, and it made its home comfortably between the leaves of my marigold flower.
I was wracking up my mind for other suggestions when I heard a knock on the door.
"Enter!" I shouted.
My mom went in, followed by what appeared to be a 20-something half-spider woman. From the waist up, she was a Japanese-American woman, but from the waist down, she was a giant Argiope spider, just like the one I---
Hang on a minute! It *was* the Argiope spider, waving its legs at me as it stood on the right palm of the half-spider woman.
"Little guy!" I exclaimed, "Where have you been?"
"She was looking for me, apparently. One of the many spiders of my brood," the spider woman replied.
Oh yeah, we're neighbors with spider people, forgot to tell you.
"Pretty little thing that is, Miyoko," my ma added, "Lenard here's an arachnophobe, but the little spider might have helped make it go away."
"Maybe," Miyoko replied, giggling at the spider, "Off you go!"
The Argiope jumped onto the bed, ran towards thw window and up the wall, and finally nestled in its tiny web by the marigold of my window garden.
"Alright," my ma said to us, "I'll head out. Have fun you two." She walked to the door and closed it behind her.
"Okay!" we replied.
Both of us looked at the little Argiope. I sat on the floor. She made a giant web hammock for her to curl her eight legs and sit on.
"So you have a garden, huh?" she asked me.
"Well, yes," I replied, "Aside from that marigold, I also have some hydrangeas...."
---end--- | You wake up, it has been a day and you despise yourself. You look around. No spider.
*bang* out the door is a bunch of... air. You feel like something shot your head, and you see a lamp. You manage to hover to it. And then a giant pulls out a pistol and you fly away. You wonder how you got this ability, or how you ended up flying up (you guess since you can’t remember) a giant beanstalk, or how a giant with human proportions is alive. You search hastily for the clouds so you can go through them. Darkness is all you see. Is this a cave? It smells funny, almost like trees. You hear lots of coughing (End of the first chapter, second to come) | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | James stared into Carlos's eyes. There was no blazing fire of anger in James' eyes; he didn't yell or rant. All that furious rage had burned down to a single, crystallized mote of pure focus.
Then he pulled the trigger.
It felt different, James thought, than the first time he fired the thing this morning. He was scared then, just looking for his eight-legged roommate. The man who tried to attack him had died quick, the shot killing him cleanly while the noise shattered James' brain. All his practicing at the range made his muscles react automatically, but nothing prepared him for the insane boom resonating off the walls of the apartment he and Maurice lived in. The man's friend bolted, clutching a small box and ignoring his dead friend.
James could see as he stared through Carlos the path to this moment, this feeling of satisfaction as the gun bucked in his hand one more time. Maurice was his friend, their deal was a good one. Maurice killed the bugs, James left him alone. They were roommates and eventually friends. James had no idea Maurice was a rare Appalachian Wood Spider, nor did he care. He didn't care that this spider was worth hundreds of thousands to the right buyer. Maurice was his friend, first and foremost.
So the men who came to steal him died.
The men who spirited him away died.
The guards of the compound where other rare animals were kept died.
Now this man, the head of it all, Carlos Gutierrez was before him.
"It's a fucking -"
James lifted the lid of the cage, letting Maurice crawl on his hand and up to his shoulder. The corpses of the men who stole him lay in pools of blood. Carlos Gutierrez, a powerful man, the best black market merchant of rare wildlife, stared out into nothing, his skull as gaped as his mouth.
"His name," James said to the dead room, "is Maurice." | You wake up, it has been a day and you despise yourself. You look around. No spider.
*bang* out the door is a bunch of... air. You feel like something shot your head, and you see a lamp. You manage to hover to it. And then a giant pulls out a pistol and you fly away. You wonder how you got this ability, or how you ended up flying up (you guess since you can’t remember) a giant beanstalk, or how a giant with human proportions is alive. You search hastily for the clouds so you can go through them. Darkness is all you see. Is this a cave? It smells funny, almost like trees. You hear lots of coughing (End of the first chapter, second to come) | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | The other day, I asked Rakna if she was happy with our arrangement. I felt her eight legs tickle over my face, her code for yes. A sweet gesture, but it wouldn't do. "Remember how we talked about being more verbal?" I teased.
"You know I'm insecure about my voice," she said. "I'm so poisonous, and yet..."
"You sound like a fairy who swallowed thirty gumdrops and now is made of sugar. Yeah. It's incongruous. But I accept you as you are. Stop weaving, and tell me. Are you happy?"
"I don't have time for such frivolities as emotion," she said. "I have bugs to kill." I took it as a yes: She was happy. I knew I was.
Before Rakna came into my apartment, I found myself waging a constant battle against cockroaches and, sometimes, worse. Bugs I swear entomologists had yet to name would crawl out of my drain.
None of them could compare to her. Easily three times the size of any spider I've seen. And hairier, too. But that's not what disturbed me. What freaked me out were her eyes. Big. Dewy. *Human*.
Naturally, I screamed. Unnaturally, she responded.
"Get a grip," she said, in that voice I'd come to love. "I'm here because the situation has gotten out of hand. We'd been experimenting with some new species protoypes here, and soon everyone wanted to try your apartment out. Weird question, but do you cook with...syrup?"
I stared, open mouthed, until she asked me again. "I asked you a question."
As it turned out, the answer was yes. My mom, who was from Northern Canada, put syrup in all her food. I inherited the quirk. "As I suspected. Bugs can't resist maple syrup. We're going to have to change this place's reputation," she said, and started scurrying around the bottom of my oven. I thought I got rid of her, but she emerged.
"Look, I estimate it's going to take me three months to clear this place out. I can crawl back and forth between this and the–I shouldn't talk about it, actually," she said. "I can't believe I almost slipped."
"Wait. Are you telling me that there's a *bug world* out there? A layer of reality where you all hang out?"
She nodded, as much as a spider could. "Oh, fine. I've already come this far. Yes. Ever wondered where all the ants go? The bees? Or roaches, when they come out of nowhere? They go to the Great Bug Layer."
After that mind-boggling revelation, I let her stay. How could I let a miracle of nature out of my grasp? I spent the rest of the week smiling like a goon because the world was much stranger and more wonderful than I could've imagined.
She became my companion. I showed her Netflix; she showed me how to trap a fly with a web. She was jealous I could stomp on ants; I was jealous she could hang upside down. The bugs disappeared, but she stayed. Three months became four. She said she might as well keep out the rats, too, while she was here.
Then, last week, came the first unofficial day of summer. So hot my neighbors played music on the balcony all day. She was scuttling around underneath the air conditioner. "It's officially not my ideal climate," she said, not saying anything else.
That night, we finished up a Ryan Murphy show on Netflix. As always, she was accidentally rooting for the villain. "But that two-legged-one is the most powerful," she said.
"I thought I taught you about how right and wrong works," I said.
"Your version of right and wrong is only for beings with the luxury of size and opposable thumbs." So it went, another cross-species philosophical debate.
At midnight, I woke up with my shirt stuck to my skin from sweat. I got up to get a glass of water and say hi to Rakna, who had taken to cooling off in the sink. But she wasn't there.
I was alone, defenseless and web-less once again. More alone than before, actually: I hadn't spoken to my friends since Rakna scurried into my life. My hold on reality remained firm: I knew that if I told people I was talking to a spider, they'd say I was crazy.
And I wasn't crazy, not that night, not now. I just missed my friend. I set forth into the streets of New York, maple syrup in one pocket, a phone with dwindling battery in the other. The subways, the underground. I'm looking for the portal. She got rid of the bugs. Now, I want them back. | You wake up, it has been a day and you despise yourself. You look around. No spider.
*bang* out the door is a bunch of... air. You feel like something shot your head, and you see a lamp. You manage to hover to it. And then a giant pulls out a pistol and you fly away. You wonder how you got this ability, or how you ended up flying up (you guess since you can’t remember) a giant beanstalk, or how a giant with human proportions is alive. You search hastily for the clouds so you can go through them. Darkness is all you see. Is this a cave? It smells funny, almost like trees. You hear lots of coughing (End of the first chapter, second to come) | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | I woke up to the all-too-familiar sound of bottles clinking around me. Mercifully, my headache wasn't as bad today. *Maybe eventually, after putting in your 10,000 hours, alcoholics stop getting hangovers*, I thought hopefully. I lifted myself to a sitting position on the edge of my bed and heard a bottle smash to the floor. It's amazing it still had floor space to shatter on. Why couldn't whiskey come in cans?
My head not being all that sore, relatively speaking, I thought today would be the perfect day to make my apartment semi-presentable. Ya know, good enough for an alcoholic's standards. Which is to say removing anything from the floor that made it difficult to traverse while drunk. I grabbed a black garbage bag from under the sink - the last one, though it had to have been there for at least two months - and set to work picking up the empties. I started with the kitchen, the first room of three in my tiny apartment, but by the time I was done in there the garbage bag was three-quarters full with Irish surnames.
It was in the final, particularly dense corner that I saw it. It bolted as soon as I lifted its shelter bottle and scuttled into the trenches between the peeling linoleum and the chipped skirting board, retreating under the refrigerator and out of immediate danger. A cockroach. My eyes didn't even follow him. Seeing him had been enough.
I dropped the plastic bag, my hand trembling, and ten minutes later it was holding a new bag, this one paper and filled with two big bottles of brown stuff. I only lived a block away from the liquor store but that walk back to my apartment building couldn't have felt longer. I finally burst into the lobby, mashed the elevator button, and looked up. It had began its slow descent. From the top floor. *Great.*
I shuffled my shoulders uncomfortably and turned my head. There it was, still pinned to the notice board after six months. I guess it had been covered up by other stuff that had now been removed cos I hadn't noticed it in a while. And I had liked it that way. Reading the poster now brought back all the same feelings that my seeing the cockroach had. But I couldn't tear my eyes away:
*MISSING: Parker*
*Last seen on his web in apartment 4B on April 24th, 2019.*
*Reward for any info on his whereabouts.*
*Contact Peter McBride, 212-...*
The bitter memories came flooding back. The confused looks on my neighbours faces as they stared at a picture of a spider on a Missing poster. Being laughed out of the police station. The sleepless nights, spent wandering the streets of this scummy town, searching everywhere for Parker. My spider. My roommate. My friend. Then, after three months with still no sign of him, the sleepless nights had turned to drunken ones. And as I stepped on to that elevator, and hit the number 4, I began to weep.
That was the last thing I remembered before waking up the following morning. My headache was definitely bad today. And my mouth felt like sandpaper. I dragged myself into the kitchen to get a glass of water. There, sitting on the faucet, was the cockroach I had seen the previous day.
"The fuck do you want?" I asked bitterly.
He twitched his feelers in recognition and stood up on his hind legs.
"I saw the poster in the lobby", he squeaked, "I'm here about the reward. I know where to find your friend." | You wake up, it has been a day and you despise yourself. You look around. No spider.
*bang* out the door is a bunch of... air. You feel like something shot your head, and you see a lamp. You manage to hover to it. And then a giant pulls out a pistol and you fly away. You wonder how you got this ability, or how you ended up flying up (you guess since you can’t remember) a giant beanstalk, or how a giant with human proportions is alive. You search hastily for the clouds so you can go through them. Darkness is all you see. Is this a cave? It smells funny, almost like trees. You hear lots of coughing (End of the first chapter, second to come) | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | The Argiope on the my window garden had gone missing this morning. It had been a resident of my terrace garden of my room ever since two weeks ago. It was nice, a passive spider taking care of my windowsill flowers by getting rid of pests but somehow allowing butterflies and bees to pollinate my flowers---if it wasn't hungry, that is.
In order to look for it, I decided to clean my room.
The first thing I thought of as I cleaned my room was a bird. A bird had come to eat it. Now, with leggy boi gone, pests would come and kill my flowers, the flowers I took care of since my childhood days. But there were no birds at this time of autumn; they had all gone home to prepare for the winter.
The next thing I thought of was that I squished it by accident, but I quickly dismissed it. The little Argiope was too cute and colorful for me to squish, and it made its home comfortably between the leaves of my marigold flower.
I was wracking up my mind for other suggestions when I heard a knock on the door.
"Enter!" I shouted.
My mom went in, followed by what appeared to be a 20-something half-spider woman. From the waist up, she was a Japanese-American woman, but from the waist down, she was a giant Argiope spider, just like the one I---
Hang on a minute! It *was* the Argiope spider, waving its legs at me as it stood on the right palm of the half-spider woman.
"Little guy!" I exclaimed, "Where have you been?"
"She was looking for me, apparently. One of the many spiders of my brood," the spider woman replied.
Oh yeah, we're neighbors with spider people, forgot to tell you.
"Pretty little thing that is, Miyoko," my ma added, "Lenard here's an arachnophobe, but the little spider might have helped make it go away."
"Maybe," Miyoko replied, giggling at the spider, "Off you go!"
The Argiope jumped onto the bed, ran towards thw window and up the wall, and finally nestled in its tiny web by the marigold of my window garden.
"Alright," my ma said to us, "I'll head out. Have fun you two." She walked to the door and closed it behind her.
"Okay!" we replied.
Both of us looked at the little Argiope. I sat on the floor. She made a giant web hammock for her to curl her eight legs and sit on.
"So you have a garden, huh?" she asked me.
"Well, yes," I replied, "Aside from that marigold, I also have some hydrangeas...."
---end--- | “Have you seen the spider?”
The response I received was less than welcomed: a half-hearted shrug from my mother and complete passivity from my father.
“I’m serious, where is my spider,” I continued, anxiety and anger flaring at their nonchalance. This wasn’t just any spider, it was my spider!
“Calm down, dear. When did you last see it?”
“Last night! I even left it a big, fat, and especially annoying fly in its web!” I could feel myself approaching hysterics. This spider has been an absolute lifesaver in helping me combat the insidious insect invasion of my room. One that was completely unrelated to the snacks I had been squirreling away in my room. Definitely unrelated.
“It’s a spider, dear,” my mother continued kindly, “They disappear and reappear as they like.” Before I could squeeze a retort in, I’d lost her attention to the clutches of Candy Crush. Again.
Exhaling exasperatedly, and taking special care to walk directly through the field of vision of my father’s football match, I decided this warranted drastic action: I needed to go on a quest to save my spider pal!
A brisk half-hour later, I was ready. A medium backpack stuffed with the essential supplies of water and snacks — including a smaller, but fresher fly corpse for my little friend — a SnapBack to brace against the unrelenting rays of the sun, a waterproof windbreaker for the remaining elements, and a small jar with the word ‘Spidey’ impeccably scrawled onto it.
“Don’t wait for me for dinner,” I called out to the surprise of my family, footsteps resolute as I embarked on what was undoubtedly going to be one of the most important days of my life. I was on a quest to find my friend, and I promised myself that I would not return until I had achieved my objective.
Barely moments after locking the door, a familiar voice called out to me.
“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. How’re things?”
“Same old, same old,” I sighed exaggeratedly. “Nothing’s been going right these days.”
He nodded sympathetically in agreement.
“Like a bad economy, non-existent healthcare, and another failed relationship-“
Tim winced before giving me a pat on the shoulder. This is why everyone likes Tim. Dude know what it really means to be a friend!
“Aren’t enough. Now I need to deal with all these darn insects crawling everywhere too!”
Tim patted my shoulder again before his face lit up.
“Hey, I had a terrible infestation a while back. Those bugs were everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. But it’s completely fixed now! Didn’t even cost a penny!”
Seeing the look of incredulity I was sporting, he nudged me pointedly towards his apartment.
“Let me show you,” he continued excitedly as he unlocked his door with a flourish.
“Meet my new spider friend!” | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | James stared into Carlos's eyes. There was no blazing fire of anger in James' eyes; he didn't yell or rant. All that furious rage had burned down to a single, crystallized mote of pure focus.
Then he pulled the trigger.
It felt different, James thought, than the first time he fired the thing this morning. He was scared then, just looking for his eight-legged roommate. The man who tried to attack him had died quick, the shot killing him cleanly while the noise shattered James' brain. All his practicing at the range made his muscles react automatically, but nothing prepared him for the insane boom resonating off the walls of the apartment he and Maurice lived in. The man's friend bolted, clutching a small box and ignoring his dead friend.
James could see as he stared through Carlos the path to this moment, this feeling of satisfaction as the gun bucked in his hand one more time. Maurice was his friend, their deal was a good one. Maurice killed the bugs, James left him alone. They were roommates and eventually friends. James had no idea Maurice was a rare Appalachian Wood Spider, nor did he care. He didn't care that this spider was worth hundreds of thousands to the right buyer. Maurice was his friend, first and foremost.
So the men who came to steal him died.
The men who spirited him away died.
The guards of the compound where other rare animals were kept died.
Now this man, the head of it all, Carlos Gutierrez was before him.
"It's a fucking -"
James lifted the lid of the cage, letting Maurice crawl on his hand and up to his shoulder. The corpses of the men who stole him lay in pools of blood. Carlos Gutierrez, a powerful man, the best black market merchant of rare wildlife, stared out into nothing, his skull as gaped as his mouth.
"His name," James said to the dead room, "is Maurice." | “Have you seen the spider?”
The response I received was less than welcomed: a half-hearted shrug from my mother and complete passivity from my father.
“I’m serious, where is my spider,” I continued, anxiety and anger flaring at their nonchalance. This wasn’t just any spider, it was my spider!
“Calm down, dear. When did you last see it?”
“Last night! I even left it a big, fat, and especially annoying fly in its web!” I could feel myself approaching hysterics. This spider has been an absolute lifesaver in helping me combat the insidious insect invasion of my room. One that was completely unrelated to the snacks I had been squirreling away in my room. Definitely unrelated.
“It’s a spider, dear,” my mother continued kindly, “They disappear and reappear as they like.” Before I could squeeze a retort in, I’d lost her attention to the clutches of Candy Crush. Again.
Exhaling exasperatedly, and taking special care to walk directly through the field of vision of my father’s football match, I decided this warranted drastic action: I needed to go on a quest to save my spider pal!
A brisk half-hour later, I was ready. A medium backpack stuffed with the essential supplies of water and snacks — including a smaller, but fresher fly corpse for my little friend — a SnapBack to brace against the unrelenting rays of the sun, a waterproof windbreaker for the remaining elements, and a small jar with the word ‘Spidey’ impeccably scrawled onto it.
“Don’t wait for me for dinner,” I called out to the surprise of my family, footsteps resolute as I embarked on what was undoubtedly going to be one of the most important days of my life. I was on a quest to find my friend, and I promised myself that I would not return until I had achieved my objective.
Barely moments after locking the door, a familiar voice called out to me.
“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. How’re things?”
“Same old, same old,” I sighed exaggeratedly. “Nothing’s been going right these days.”
He nodded sympathetically in agreement.
“Like a bad economy, non-existent healthcare, and another failed relationship-“
Tim winced before giving me a pat on the shoulder. This is why everyone likes Tim. Dude know what it really means to be a friend!
“Aren’t enough. Now I need to deal with all these darn insects crawling everywhere too!”
Tim patted my shoulder again before his face lit up.
“Hey, I had a terrible infestation a while back. Those bugs were everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. But it’s completely fixed now! Didn’t even cost a penny!”
Seeing the look of incredulity I was sporting, he nudged me pointedly towards his apartment.
“Let me show you,” he continued excitedly as he unlocked his door with a flourish.
“Meet my new spider friend!” | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | The other day, I asked Rakna if she was happy with our arrangement. I felt her eight legs tickle over my face, her code for yes. A sweet gesture, but it wouldn't do. "Remember how we talked about being more verbal?" I teased.
"You know I'm insecure about my voice," she said. "I'm so poisonous, and yet..."
"You sound like a fairy who swallowed thirty gumdrops and now is made of sugar. Yeah. It's incongruous. But I accept you as you are. Stop weaving, and tell me. Are you happy?"
"I don't have time for such frivolities as emotion," she said. "I have bugs to kill." I took it as a yes: She was happy. I knew I was.
Before Rakna came into my apartment, I found myself waging a constant battle against cockroaches and, sometimes, worse. Bugs I swear entomologists had yet to name would crawl out of my drain.
None of them could compare to her. Easily three times the size of any spider I've seen. And hairier, too. But that's not what disturbed me. What freaked me out were her eyes. Big. Dewy. *Human*.
Naturally, I screamed. Unnaturally, she responded.
"Get a grip," she said, in that voice I'd come to love. "I'm here because the situation has gotten out of hand. We'd been experimenting with some new species protoypes here, and soon everyone wanted to try your apartment out. Weird question, but do you cook with...syrup?"
I stared, open mouthed, until she asked me again. "I asked you a question."
As it turned out, the answer was yes. My mom, who was from Northern Canada, put syrup in all her food. I inherited the quirk. "As I suspected. Bugs can't resist maple syrup. We're going to have to change this place's reputation," she said, and started scurrying around the bottom of my oven. I thought I got rid of her, but she emerged.
"Look, I estimate it's going to take me three months to clear this place out. I can crawl back and forth between this and the–I shouldn't talk about it, actually," she said. "I can't believe I almost slipped."
"Wait. Are you telling me that there's a *bug world* out there? A layer of reality where you all hang out?"
She nodded, as much as a spider could. "Oh, fine. I've already come this far. Yes. Ever wondered where all the ants go? The bees? Or roaches, when they come out of nowhere? They go to the Great Bug Layer."
After that mind-boggling revelation, I let her stay. How could I let a miracle of nature out of my grasp? I spent the rest of the week smiling like a goon because the world was much stranger and more wonderful than I could've imagined.
She became my companion. I showed her Netflix; she showed me how to trap a fly with a web. She was jealous I could stomp on ants; I was jealous she could hang upside down. The bugs disappeared, but she stayed. Three months became four. She said she might as well keep out the rats, too, while she was here.
Then, last week, came the first unofficial day of summer. So hot my neighbors played music on the balcony all day. She was scuttling around underneath the air conditioner. "It's officially not my ideal climate," she said, not saying anything else.
That night, we finished up a Ryan Murphy show on Netflix. As always, she was accidentally rooting for the villain. "But that two-legged-one is the most powerful," she said.
"I thought I taught you about how right and wrong works," I said.
"Your version of right and wrong is only for beings with the luxury of size and opposable thumbs." So it went, another cross-species philosophical debate.
At midnight, I woke up with my shirt stuck to my skin from sweat. I got up to get a glass of water and say hi to Rakna, who had taken to cooling off in the sink. But she wasn't there.
I was alone, defenseless and web-less once again. More alone than before, actually: I hadn't spoken to my friends since Rakna scurried into my life. My hold on reality remained firm: I knew that if I told people I was talking to a spider, they'd say I was crazy.
And I wasn't crazy, not that night, not now. I just missed my friend. I set forth into the streets of New York, maple syrup in one pocket, a phone with dwindling battery in the other. The subways, the underground. I'm looking for the portal. She got rid of the bugs. Now, I want them back. | “Have you seen the spider?”
The response I received was less than welcomed: a half-hearted shrug from my mother and complete passivity from my father.
“I’m serious, where is my spider,” I continued, anxiety and anger flaring at their nonchalance. This wasn’t just any spider, it was my spider!
“Calm down, dear. When did you last see it?”
“Last night! I even left it a big, fat, and especially annoying fly in its web!” I could feel myself approaching hysterics. This spider has been an absolute lifesaver in helping me combat the insidious insect invasion of my room. One that was completely unrelated to the snacks I had been squirreling away in my room. Definitely unrelated.
“It’s a spider, dear,” my mother continued kindly, “They disappear and reappear as they like.” Before I could squeeze a retort in, I’d lost her attention to the clutches of Candy Crush. Again.
Exhaling exasperatedly, and taking special care to walk directly through the field of vision of my father’s football match, I decided this warranted drastic action: I needed to go on a quest to save my spider pal!
A brisk half-hour later, I was ready. A medium backpack stuffed with the essential supplies of water and snacks — including a smaller, but fresher fly corpse for my little friend — a SnapBack to brace against the unrelenting rays of the sun, a waterproof windbreaker for the remaining elements, and a small jar with the word ‘Spidey’ impeccably scrawled onto it.
“Don’t wait for me for dinner,” I called out to the surprise of my family, footsteps resolute as I embarked on what was undoubtedly going to be one of the most important days of my life. I was on a quest to find my friend, and I promised myself that I would not return until I had achieved my objective.
Barely moments after locking the door, a familiar voice called out to me.
“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. How’re things?”
“Same old, same old,” I sighed exaggeratedly. “Nothing’s been going right these days.”
He nodded sympathetically in agreement.
“Like a bad economy, non-existent healthcare, and another failed relationship-“
Tim winced before giving me a pat on the shoulder. This is why everyone likes Tim. Dude know what it really means to be a friend!
“Aren’t enough. Now I need to deal with all these darn insects crawling everywhere too!”
Tim patted my shoulder again before his face lit up.
“Hey, I had a terrible infestation a while back. Those bugs were everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. But it’s completely fixed now! Didn’t even cost a penny!”
Seeing the look of incredulity I was sporting, he nudged me pointedly towards his apartment.
“Let me show you,” he continued excitedly as he unlocked his door with a flourish.
“Meet my new spider friend!” | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | I woke up to the all-too-familiar sound of bottles clinking around me. Mercifully, my headache wasn't as bad today. *Maybe eventually, after putting in your 10,000 hours, alcoholics stop getting hangovers*, I thought hopefully. I lifted myself to a sitting position on the edge of my bed and heard a bottle smash to the floor. It's amazing it still had floor space to shatter on. Why couldn't whiskey come in cans?
My head not being all that sore, relatively speaking, I thought today would be the perfect day to make my apartment semi-presentable. Ya know, good enough for an alcoholic's standards. Which is to say removing anything from the floor that made it difficult to traverse while drunk. I grabbed a black garbage bag from under the sink - the last one, though it had to have been there for at least two months - and set to work picking up the empties. I started with the kitchen, the first room of three in my tiny apartment, but by the time I was done in there the garbage bag was three-quarters full with Irish surnames.
It was in the final, particularly dense corner that I saw it. It bolted as soon as I lifted its shelter bottle and scuttled into the trenches between the peeling linoleum and the chipped skirting board, retreating under the refrigerator and out of immediate danger. A cockroach. My eyes didn't even follow him. Seeing him had been enough.
I dropped the plastic bag, my hand trembling, and ten minutes later it was holding a new bag, this one paper and filled with two big bottles of brown stuff. I only lived a block away from the liquor store but that walk back to my apartment building couldn't have felt longer. I finally burst into the lobby, mashed the elevator button, and looked up. It had began its slow descent. From the top floor. *Great.*
I shuffled my shoulders uncomfortably and turned my head. There it was, still pinned to the notice board after six months. I guess it had been covered up by other stuff that had now been removed cos I hadn't noticed it in a while. And I had liked it that way. Reading the poster now brought back all the same feelings that my seeing the cockroach had. But I couldn't tear my eyes away:
*MISSING: Parker*
*Last seen on his web in apartment 4B on April 24th, 2019.*
*Reward for any info on his whereabouts.*
*Contact Peter McBride, 212-...*
The bitter memories came flooding back. The confused looks on my neighbours faces as they stared at a picture of a spider on a Missing poster. Being laughed out of the police station. The sleepless nights, spent wandering the streets of this scummy town, searching everywhere for Parker. My spider. My roommate. My friend. Then, after three months with still no sign of him, the sleepless nights had turned to drunken ones. And as I stepped on to that elevator, and hit the number 4, I began to weep.
That was the last thing I remembered before waking up the following morning. My headache was definitely bad today. And my mouth felt like sandpaper. I dragged myself into the kitchen to get a glass of water. There, sitting on the faucet, was the cockroach I had seen the previous day.
"The fuck do you want?" I asked bitterly.
He twitched his feelers in recognition and stood up on his hind legs.
"I saw the poster in the lobby", he squeaked, "I'm here about the reward. I know where to find your friend." | “Have you seen the spider?”
The response I received was less than welcomed: a half-hearted shrug from my mother and complete passivity from my father.
“I’m serious, where is my spider,” I continued, anxiety and anger flaring at their nonchalance. This wasn’t just any spider, it was my spider!
“Calm down, dear. When did you last see it?”
“Last night! I even left it a big, fat, and especially annoying fly in its web!” I could feel myself approaching hysterics. This spider has been an absolute lifesaver in helping me combat the insidious insect invasion of my room. One that was completely unrelated to the snacks I had been squirreling away in my room. Definitely unrelated.
“It’s a spider, dear,” my mother continued kindly, “They disappear and reappear as they like.” Before I could squeeze a retort in, I’d lost her attention to the clutches of Candy Crush. Again.
Exhaling exasperatedly, and taking special care to walk directly through the field of vision of my father’s football match, I decided this warranted drastic action: I needed to go on a quest to save my spider pal!
A brisk half-hour later, I was ready. A medium backpack stuffed with the essential supplies of water and snacks — including a smaller, but fresher fly corpse for my little friend — a SnapBack to brace against the unrelenting rays of the sun, a waterproof windbreaker for the remaining elements, and a small jar with the word ‘Spidey’ impeccably scrawled onto it.
“Don’t wait for me for dinner,” I called out to the surprise of my family, footsteps resolute as I embarked on what was undoubtedly going to be one of the most important days of my life. I was on a quest to find my friend, and I promised myself that I would not return until I had achieved my objective.
Barely moments after locking the door, a familiar voice called out to me.
“Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while. How’re things?”
“Same old, same old,” I sighed exaggeratedly. “Nothing’s been going right these days.”
He nodded sympathetically in agreement.
“Like a bad economy, non-existent healthcare, and another failed relationship-“
Tim winced before giving me a pat on the shoulder. This is why everyone likes Tim. Dude know what it really means to be a friend!
“Aren’t enough. Now I need to deal with all these darn insects crawling everywhere too!”
Tim patted my shoulder again before his face lit up.
“Hey, I had a terrible infestation a while back. Those bugs were everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. But it’s completely fixed now! Didn’t even cost a penny!”
Seeing the look of incredulity I was sporting, he nudged me pointedly towards his apartment.
“Let me show you,” he continued excitedly as he unlocked his door with a flourish.
“Meet my new spider friend!” | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | The other day, I asked Rakna if she was happy with our arrangement. I felt her eight legs tickle over my face, her code for yes. A sweet gesture, but it wouldn't do. "Remember how we talked about being more verbal?" I teased.
"You know I'm insecure about my voice," she said. "I'm so poisonous, and yet..."
"You sound like a fairy who swallowed thirty gumdrops and now is made of sugar. Yeah. It's incongruous. But I accept you as you are. Stop weaving, and tell me. Are you happy?"
"I don't have time for such frivolities as emotion," she said. "I have bugs to kill." I took it as a yes: She was happy. I knew I was.
Before Rakna came into my apartment, I found myself waging a constant battle against cockroaches and, sometimes, worse. Bugs I swear entomologists had yet to name would crawl out of my drain.
None of them could compare to her. Easily three times the size of any spider I've seen. And hairier, too. But that's not what disturbed me. What freaked me out were her eyes. Big. Dewy. *Human*.
Naturally, I screamed. Unnaturally, she responded.
"Get a grip," she said, in that voice I'd come to love. "I'm here because the situation has gotten out of hand. We'd been experimenting with some new species protoypes here, and soon everyone wanted to try your apartment out. Weird question, but do you cook with...syrup?"
I stared, open mouthed, until she asked me again. "I asked you a question."
As it turned out, the answer was yes. My mom, who was from Northern Canada, put syrup in all her food. I inherited the quirk. "As I suspected. Bugs can't resist maple syrup. We're going to have to change this place's reputation," she said, and started scurrying around the bottom of my oven. I thought I got rid of her, but she emerged.
"Look, I estimate it's going to take me three months to clear this place out. I can crawl back and forth between this and the–I shouldn't talk about it, actually," she said. "I can't believe I almost slipped."
"Wait. Are you telling me that there's a *bug world* out there? A layer of reality where you all hang out?"
She nodded, as much as a spider could. "Oh, fine. I've already come this far. Yes. Ever wondered where all the ants go? The bees? Or roaches, when they come out of nowhere? They go to the Great Bug Layer."
After that mind-boggling revelation, I let her stay. How could I let a miracle of nature out of my grasp? I spent the rest of the week smiling like a goon because the world was much stranger and more wonderful than I could've imagined.
She became my companion. I showed her Netflix; she showed me how to trap a fly with a web. She was jealous I could stomp on ants; I was jealous she could hang upside down. The bugs disappeared, but she stayed. Three months became four. She said she might as well keep out the rats, too, while she was here.
Then, last week, came the first unofficial day of summer. So hot my neighbors played music on the balcony all day. She was scuttling around underneath the air conditioner. "It's officially not my ideal climate," she said, not saying anything else.
That night, we finished up a Ryan Murphy show on Netflix. As always, she was accidentally rooting for the villain. "But that two-legged-one is the most powerful," she said.
"I thought I taught you about how right and wrong works," I said.
"Your version of right and wrong is only for beings with the luxury of size and opposable thumbs." So it went, another cross-species philosophical debate.
At midnight, I woke up with my shirt stuck to my skin from sweat. I got up to get a glass of water and say hi to Rakna, who had taken to cooling off in the sink. But she wasn't there.
I was alone, defenseless and web-less once again. More alone than before, actually: I hadn't spoken to my friends since Rakna scurried into my life. My hold on reality remained firm: I knew that if I told people I was talking to a spider, they'd say I was crazy.
And I wasn't crazy, not that night, not now. I just missed my friend. I set forth into the streets of New York, maple syrup in one pocket, a phone with dwindling battery in the other. The subways, the underground. I'm looking for the portal. She got rid of the bugs. Now, I want them back. | The Argiope on the my window garden had gone missing this morning. It had been a resident of my terrace garden of my room ever since two weeks ago. It was nice, a passive spider taking care of my windowsill flowers by getting rid of pests but somehow allowing butterflies and bees to pollinate my flowers---if it wasn't hungry, that is.
In order to look for it, I decided to clean my room.
The first thing I thought of as I cleaned my room was a bird. A bird had come to eat it. Now, with leggy boi gone, pests would come and kill my flowers, the flowers I took care of since my childhood days. But there were no birds at this time of autumn; they had all gone home to prepare for the winter.
The next thing I thought of was that I squished it by accident, but I quickly dismissed it. The little Argiope was too cute and colorful for me to squish, and it made its home comfortably between the leaves of my marigold flower.
I was wracking up my mind for other suggestions when I heard a knock on the door.
"Enter!" I shouted.
My mom went in, followed by what appeared to be a 20-something half-spider woman. From the waist up, she was a Japanese-American woman, but from the waist down, she was a giant Argiope spider, just like the one I---
Hang on a minute! It *was* the Argiope spider, waving its legs at me as it stood on the right palm of the half-spider woman.
"Little guy!" I exclaimed, "Where have you been?"
"She was looking for me, apparently. One of the many spiders of my brood," the spider woman replied.
Oh yeah, we're neighbors with spider people, forgot to tell you.
"Pretty little thing that is, Miyoko," my ma added, "Lenard here's an arachnophobe, but the little spider might have helped make it go away."
"Maybe," Miyoko replied, giggling at the spider, "Off you go!"
The Argiope jumped onto the bed, ran towards thw window and up the wall, and finally nestled in its tiny web by the marigold of my window garden.
"Alright," my ma said to us, "I'll head out. Have fun you two." She walked to the door and closed it behind her.
"Okay!" we replied.
Both of us looked at the little Argiope. I sat on the floor. She made a giant web hammock for her to curl her eight legs and sit on.
"So you have a garden, huh?" she asked me.
"Well, yes," I replied, "Aside from that marigold, I also have some hydrangeas...."
---end--- | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | I woke up to the all-too-familiar sound of bottles clinking around me. Mercifully, my headache wasn't as bad today. *Maybe eventually, after putting in your 10,000 hours, alcoholics stop getting hangovers*, I thought hopefully. I lifted myself to a sitting position on the edge of my bed and heard a bottle smash to the floor. It's amazing it still had floor space to shatter on. Why couldn't whiskey come in cans?
My head not being all that sore, relatively speaking, I thought today would be the perfect day to make my apartment semi-presentable. Ya know, good enough for an alcoholic's standards. Which is to say removing anything from the floor that made it difficult to traverse while drunk. I grabbed a black garbage bag from under the sink - the last one, though it had to have been there for at least two months - and set to work picking up the empties. I started with the kitchen, the first room of three in my tiny apartment, but by the time I was done in there the garbage bag was three-quarters full with Irish surnames.
It was in the final, particularly dense corner that I saw it. It bolted as soon as I lifted its shelter bottle and scuttled into the trenches between the peeling linoleum and the chipped skirting board, retreating under the refrigerator and out of immediate danger. A cockroach. My eyes didn't even follow him. Seeing him had been enough.
I dropped the plastic bag, my hand trembling, and ten minutes later it was holding a new bag, this one paper and filled with two big bottles of brown stuff. I only lived a block away from the liquor store but that walk back to my apartment building couldn't have felt longer. I finally burst into the lobby, mashed the elevator button, and looked up. It had began its slow descent. From the top floor. *Great.*
I shuffled my shoulders uncomfortably and turned my head. There it was, still pinned to the notice board after six months. I guess it had been covered up by other stuff that had now been removed cos I hadn't noticed it in a while. And I had liked it that way. Reading the poster now brought back all the same feelings that my seeing the cockroach had. But I couldn't tear my eyes away:
*MISSING: Parker*
*Last seen on his web in apartment 4B on April 24th, 2019.*
*Reward for any info on his whereabouts.*
*Contact Peter McBride, 212-...*
The bitter memories came flooding back. The confused looks on my neighbours faces as they stared at a picture of a spider on a Missing poster. Being laughed out of the police station. The sleepless nights, spent wandering the streets of this scummy town, searching everywhere for Parker. My spider. My roommate. My friend. Then, after three months with still no sign of him, the sleepless nights had turned to drunken ones. And as I stepped on to that elevator, and hit the number 4, I began to weep.
That was the last thing I remembered before waking up the following morning. My headache was definitely bad today. And my mouth felt like sandpaper. I dragged myself into the kitchen to get a glass of water. There, sitting on the faucet, was the cockroach I had seen the previous day.
"The fuck do you want?" I asked bitterly.
He twitched his feelers in recognition and stood up on his hind legs.
"I saw the poster in the lobby", he squeaked, "I'm here about the reward. I know where to find your friend." | James stared into Carlos's eyes. There was no blazing fire of anger in James' eyes; he didn't yell or rant. All that furious rage had burned down to a single, crystallized mote of pure focus.
Then he pulled the trigger.
It felt different, James thought, than the first time he fired the thing this morning. He was scared then, just looking for his eight-legged roommate. The man who tried to attack him had died quick, the shot killing him cleanly while the noise shattered James' brain. All his practicing at the range made his muscles react automatically, but nothing prepared him for the insane boom resonating off the walls of the apartment he and Maurice lived in. The man's friend bolted, clutching a small box and ignoring his dead friend.
James could see as he stared through Carlos the path to this moment, this feeling of satisfaction as the gun bucked in his hand one more time. Maurice was his friend, their deal was a good one. Maurice killed the bugs, James left him alone. They were roommates and eventually friends. James had no idea Maurice was a rare Appalachian Wood Spider, nor did he care. He didn't care that this spider was worth hundreds of thousands to the right buyer. Maurice was his friend, first and foremost.
So the men who came to steal him died.
The men who spirited him away died.
The guards of the compound where other rare animals were kept died.
Now this man, the head of it all, Carlos Gutierrez was before him.
"It's a fucking -"
James lifted the lid of the cage, letting Maurice crawl on his hand and up to his shoulder. The corpses of the men who stole him lay in pools of blood. Carlos Gutierrez, a powerful man, the best black market merchant of rare wildlife, stared out into nothing, his skull as gaped as his mouth.
"His name," James said to the dead room, "is Maurice." | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | I woke up to the all-too-familiar sound of bottles clinking around me. Mercifully, my headache wasn't as bad today. *Maybe eventually, after putting in your 10,000 hours, alcoholics stop getting hangovers*, I thought hopefully. I lifted myself to a sitting position on the edge of my bed and heard a bottle smash to the floor. It's amazing it still had floor space to shatter on. Why couldn't whiskey come in cans?
My head not being all that sore, relatively speaking, I thought today would be the perfect day to make my apartment semi-presentable. Ya know, good enough for an alcoholic's standards. Which is to say removing anything from the floor that made it difficult to traverse while drunk. I grabbed a black garbage bag from under the sink - the last one, though it had to have been there for at least two months - and set to work picking up the empties. I started with the kitchen, the first room of three in my tiny apartment, but by the time I was done in there the garbage bag was three-quarters full with Irish surnames.
It was in the final, particularly dense corner that I saw it. It bolted as soon as I lifted its shelter bottle and scuttled into the trenches between the peeling linoleum and the chipped skirting board, retreating under the refrigerator and out of immediate danger. A cockroach. My eyes didn't even follow him. Seeing him had been enough.
I dropped the plastic bag, my hand trembling, and ten minutes later it was holding a new bag, this one paper and filled with two big bottles of brown stuff. I only lived a block away from the liquor store but that walk back to my apartment building couldn't have felt longer. I finally burst into the lobby, mashed the elevator button, and looked up. It had began its slow descent. From the top floor. *Great.*
I shuffled my shoulders uncomfortably and turned my head. There it was, still pinned to the notice board after six months. I guess it had been covered up by other stuff that had now been removed cos I hadn't noticed it in a while. And I had liked it that way. Reading the poster now brought back all the same feelings that my seeing the cockroach had. But I couldn't tear my eyes away:
*MISSING: Parker*
*Last seen on his web in apartment 4B on April 24th, 2019.*
*Reward for any info on his whereabouts.*
*Contact Peter McBride, 212-...*
The bitter memories came flooding back. The confused looks on my neighbours faces as they stared at a picture of a spider on a Missing poster. Being laughed out of the police station. The sleepless nights, spent wandering the streets of this scummy town, searching everywhere for Parker. My spider. My roommate. My friend. Then, after three months with still no sign of him, the sleepless nights had turned to drunken ones. And as I stepped on to that elevator, and hit the number 4, I began to weep.
That was the last thing I remembered before waking up the following morning. My headache was definitely bad today. And my mouth felt like sandpaper. I dragged myself into the kitchen to get a glass of water. There, sitting on the faucet, was the cockroach I had seen the previous day.
"The fuck do you want?" I asked bitterly.
He twitched his feelers in recognition and stood up on his hind legs.
"I saw the poster in the lobby", he squeaked, "I'm here about the reward. I know where to find your friend." | “Have you seen Mr. Legs today?” John asked with a tremor in his voice. “I thought I saw a centipede hanging around the closet before. Centipedes are Mr. Legs’ favourite…” John’s baritone voice trailed off.
“Look babe, I know you liked your pet spider, but it’s just a spider, okay? Maybe it was just its time. Or maybe it got eaten or found a Mrs. Legs. Lots of possibilities. You can’t live your life thinking about this spider all day.” Alice was always the voice of reason. She never understood what it was like to have a spider-friend. She always preferred cats.
John looked over to the food bowl he left near Mr. Legs’ corner. It was empty of the tiny crickets John had ordered from Morocco. It was a nice, warm Spring day––Maybe Mr. Legs was molting! John couldn’t remember if spiders molted or not, but it was a start! A clue! A lead! John’s heart leapt for joy, knowing that it was possible that Mr. Legs was still alive somewhere in this apartment. Time to start looking for his tiny little quarter-sized, furry, seven-legged body (The result of the title fight between Mr. Legs and the previous house defender, Dr. Centipede). All John had to do was get rid of Alice, so that she wouldn’t interfere with his investigation.
“Alice, I think I’m having second thoughts about our relationship… Can we take a break? I don’t want to break up, but just push pause on this whole thing.” John knew this was probably not a good path to take, but he never was good at thinking on his feet. Plus, what kind of woman doesn’t appreciate a good housemate. It was a bit unnerving.
“What do you mean?!” Tears began to well up in Alice’s green eyes. John had to act fast to prevent a total
meltdown.
“Just kidding, babe! I just wanted to see how you’d react” John blurted out. He could tell by her slumped shoulders that, once again, he had said the wrong thing. Alice could be so sensitive whenever it was about her.
“I can’t believe you’d try to play with my emotions like that! That’s so manipulative, John. I… I think I should go.” Alice walked over to her coat and purse near the door and started to dress.
“No, babe, I didn’t mean it! I was just joking!”
“Goodbye, John. I don’t know why you always try to hurt me…” Alice’s voice was weak and raspy.
With that, Alice opened the door and left, walking down the long corridor down to the stairwell. John could hear her tears running down her face, like watery facial avalanches. Alice turned the corner to descend the stairs. That was the last memory he had of Alice: her walking down that corridor, a seven-legged spider clinging to the back of her coat. | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | School was exhausting today! I dropped my bags to the floor and rushed to do my business in the bathroom. I've been holding it in all day; it's been difficult to place confidence in public restrooms ever since ... the incident.
Done. I stepped out relieved from that tension which burdened me all afternoon. I moseyed to my bedroom and laid down to claim the rest I've needed so desperately. After blanking out for a few minutes, I sensed those feelings of discontentment bubbling up again. "Yep, it's another one of **those** days," I said to myself. This called for a talk with my confidant, Lupita the Spider. I boosted myself to the top of my shelf, only to be greeted to an empty cobweb. "Strange..." I muttered. Lupita had never left her cobweb before.
I guess I thought she was mad at me for some reason, so I quickly cascaded into a long, apologetic blabbering. "Lupita! Where are you? Please, I just want to talk! I'm sorry, okay? For everything. Listen I need you now. I need you... Lupita!"
I slouched down in defeat. She had probably found a better landlord elsewhere. I do admit to being rude and inconsiderate at times. I curled up in despair and guilt. It was my fault she left, and now I was lonelier than ever. I felt like crying when I noticed a strange crack in my wall. It wasn't big but clearly had some depth. I pointed my phone's flashlight at it.
"Wow! This isn't just a faulty paint job."
I picked at the ominous gap and accidentally ripped a huge chunk of my wall off.
"Someone has been chipping at this."
The hole was large enough for me to poke my head in. There didn't seem to be any movement in the dark abyss. However, a faint buzzing grew increasingly loud. I used my phone to illuminate the miniature cave.
Lupita was tied up with her own web in the middle of the room. Around her lingered an astounding number of flies: maybe a hundred or so.
My jaw dropped through the floor and a disgusted terror fizzled across my spine. A fly mob had kidnapped my pet spider and was about to murder her from within my bedroom wall! | “Have you seen Mr. Legs today?” John asked with a tremor in his voice. “I thought I saw a centipede hanging around the closet before. Centipedes are Mr. Legs’ favourite…” John’s baritone voice trailed off.
“Look babe, I know you liked your pet spider, but it’s just a spider, okay? Maybe it was just its time. Or maybe it got eaten or found a Mrs. Legs. Lots of possibilities. You can’t live your life thinking about this spider all day.” Alice was always the voice of reason. She never understood what it was like to have a spider-friend. She always preferred cats.
John looked over to the food bowl he left near Mr. Legs’ corner. It was empty of the tiny crickets John had ordered from Morocco. It was a nice, warm Spring day––Maybe Mr. Legs was molting! John couldn’t remember if spiders molted or not, but it was a start! A clue! A lead! John’s heart leapt for joy, knowing that it was possible that Mr. Legs was still alive somewhere in this apartment. Time to start looking for his tiny little quarter-sized, furry, seven-legged body (The result of the title fight between Mr. Legs and the previous house defender, Dr. Centipede). All John had to do was get rid of Alice, so that she wouldn’t interfere with his investigation.
“Alice, I think I’m having second thoughts about our relationship… Can we take a break? I don’t want to break up, but just push pause on this whole thing.” John knew this was probably not a good path to take, but he never was good at thinking on his feet. Plus, what kind of woman doesn’t appreciate a good housemate. It was a bit unnerving.
“What do you mean?!” Tears began to well up in Alice’s green eyes. John had to act fast to prevent a total
meltdown.
“Just kidding, babe! I just wanted to see how you’d react” John blurted out. He could tell by her slumped shoulders that, once again, he had said the wrong thing. Alice could be so sensitive whenever it was about her.
“I can’t believe you’d try to play with my emotions like that! That’s so manipulative, John. I… I think I should go.” Alice walked over to her coat and purse near the door and started to dress.
“No, babe, I didn’t mean it! I was just joking!”
“Goodbye, John. I don’t know why you always try to hurt me…” Alice’s voice was weak and raspy.
With that, Alice opened the door and left, walking down the long corridor down to the stairwell. John could hear her tears running down her face, like watery facial avalanches. Alice turned the corner to descend the stairs. That was the last memory he had of Alice: her walking down that corridor, a seven-legged spider clinging to the back of her coat. | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | "Huh." John looked up to the corner, which was free of occupants, as most corners in the house were. Though it was strange for this corner to be empty, as for the past 4 months, it had held a resident. A resident John had become quite familiar with, always near his desk, a friendly presence.
He looked around, the cream walls were bare, but for a small photo frame showing John and his mother sitting by a scenic tree.
"Not there either." He bent down to look under his desk, shifting rogue cords out of the way to see the wall behind. Still no spider.
"Where have you gone..." He trailed off, scanning the length of his room. He could just sit down, get to work like he'd been intending to, but it didn't feel right for him to just ignore his little friends absence.
John signed in annoyance. Why was he concerned about why the spider wasn't around? He looked back up to the web, staring at it as if doing so would reveal the answer.
He shook his head. No, he wasn't going to be able to concentrate without knowing why. He gazed at each of the other corners, looking for stray webbing to give him hints of the spiders movements. But there were no hints to be gained from those either.
John tried to put himself in the mindset of the spider. What would cause him to move from his comfortable position? It shouldn't be food, it hasn't been an issue for the last 4 months. A rival? Had another spider moved in on his little friends territory? No, there would be other webbing, or at least one of the spiders would be around. Temperature perhaps? He had opened the window during the previous night, it had felt stuffy, would the breeze have caused an issue for the little guy?
John walked over to the window to inspect it. Upon looking outside at the rooftop of the floor below, he froze.
"Oh no." There was a spider leg, his spiders' leg, on the rooftop just outside the flyscreen. He unhooked it, and took it from the window, placing in the room. He stuck his head out the window, looking for any other sign of the spiders fate, and came face to spider with it, next to window as if waiting to be let back in.
"You're alive." John stated, very matter-of-factly. Almost as if understanding him, the spider crawled on its remaining 7 legs back in the window, pausing on the wall, then moving towards its corner. John smiled.
"Glad you're alive buddy." He took the fly screen from the floor and reattached.
"You had me worried there... For some reason." He shook his head wistfully, and looked at the spider making itself at home in the small web. What a strange feeling he had.
"Just don't go missing again, alright?" He chuckled to himself, then sat down at his desk and switched on his laptop. And from the corner of eyes, that friendly resident was present. | “Have you seen Mr. Legs today?” John asked with a tremor in his voice. “I thought I saw a centipede hanging around the closet before. Centipedes are Mr. Legs’ favourite…” John’s baritone voice trailed off.
“Look babe, I know you liked your pet spider, but it’s just a spider, okay? Maybe it was just its time. Or maybe it got eaten or found a Mrs. Legs. Lots of possibilities. You can’t live your life thinking about this spider all day.” Alice was always the voice of reason. She never understood what it was like to have a spider-friend. She always preferred cats.
John looked over to the food bowl he left near Mr. Legs’ corner. It was empty of the tiny crickets John had ordered from Morocco. It was a nice, warm Spring day––Maybe Mr. Legs was molting! John couldn’t remember if spiders molted or not, but it was a start! A clue! A lead! John’s heart leapt for joy, knowing that it was possible that Mr. Legs was still alive somewhere in this apartment. Time to start looking for his tiny little quarter-sized, furry, seven-legged body (The result of the title fight between Mr. Legs and the previous house defender, Dr. Centipede). All John had to do was get rid of Alice, so that she wouldn’t interfere with his investigation.
“Alice, I think I’m having second thoughts about our relationship… Can we take a break? I don’t want to break up, but just push pause on this whole thing.” John knew this was probably not a good path to take, but he never was good at thinking on his feet. Plus, what kind of woman doesn’t appreciate a good housemate. It was a bit unnerving.
“What do you mean?!” Tears began to well up in Alice’s green eyes. John had to act fast to prevent a total
meltdown.
“Just kidding, babe! I just wanted to see how you’d react” John blurted out. He could tell by her slumped shoulders that, once again, he had said the wrong thing. Alice could be so sensitive whenever it was about her.
“I can’t believe you’d try to play with my emotions like that! That’s so manipulative, John. I… I think I should go.” Alice walked over to her coat and purse near the door and started to dress.
“No, babe, I didn’t mean it! I was just joking!”
“Goodbye, John. I don’t know why you always try to hurt me…” Alice’s voice was weak and raspy.
With that, Alice opened the door and left, walking down the long corridor down to the stairwell. John could hear her tears running down her face, like watery facial avalanches. Alice turned the corner to descend the stairs. That was the last memory he had of Alice: her walking down that corridor, a seven-legged spider clinging to the back of her coat. | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | I was a simple guardsman, back when we first met.
It was an exhausting day at the gate. Repetitious identification, noisy merchants, an old man fainting from the heat and having to carry him to his home. I was tired. As soon as I got my pay, I headed home, eager to see my bed.
My plans to rest were shattered as I entered the cabin and gazed upon the intruder by the corner. A jumper spider. Eight legged nuisances that scurried in the dark and caused the horrified screams of fair maidens in the night every now and then. It hissed and raised its front legs as soon as it noticed my presence. I was cranky, having absolutely no more patience or energy for any kind work and brought out my sword to strike it, waiting in stance for its inevitable charge.
It didn’t. It just stood there, barbed legs high and fangs bared with its four largest eyes, sinister pearls of blood red, just staring at me. But it did not move. Except for the slight twitching on it’s left front leg. Visible from the faint moonlight, it was bent slightly in an awkward position and its chitinous surface was dented. Behind the spider, I observed an object wrapped in its translucent webbing. Through the sheen of the web cocoon, I saw the angry red and white stripes of an even worse intruder: a deer hawk wasp.
The spiders were annoyances, but those winged devils were deadly. They hunted anything made of meat, including other humans. Adventurers are even given quests to exterminate hives of these creatures. I can tell this spider hunted this one in this area, either in my house or right outside. Jumpers never bring their prey far after a hunt.
I could have rung my sword right through it, but for some reason, I did not. Call it generosity or gratitude. All I know is that I was dead tired. I was sleepy. This spider killed a greater evil that would have definitely ended me in my slumber. So, I sheathed my sword, took off my armor, and just fell on the bed. I’ll take my chances with the spider. It would be too busy eating the wasp. And if it did try to hunt me, then I deserve it for not killing it in the first place.
The next morning, I woke up from my deep rest and the first thing I noticed was spider watching me from the same corner. The four large eyes that appeared as orbs of endless blood red during the night was but a mask for a dull shade of pink irises. Brown, hair like barbs covered its black hide, its monotonous color was contrasted by a sharp white line from its head to back.
I thought that it overstayed its welcome and reached for my sword, with the thought of threatening it out of my home. But as I approached it with my weapon drawn, the spider merely retracted its legs closer to itself, as if it braced for the pain. No longer was there the aggression of last night, which perplexed me greatly.
The damage on the its bent leg looked much worse than I realized, blue blood seeping through the cracks in its chitin. If I did not know spiders could feel agony before, then that perception was discarded when I gazed into its eyes. Somehow, I can’t explain or describe why, but it looked like it was afraid.
Afraid of me. I thought I was going crazy. A spider with emotions? People would think I’m mad. Mages would suspect of me being under hypnosis.
I left it alone. I got my armor, my sword, and I left my home to go to work. I didn’t know what I was thinking at the time, but I left a spider alone. In my house. And I didn’t want to think of it any further. I just wanted to get to work. I wanted it to just leave with its bounty and let me be. And we can move on.
That was not to be. After work, I went back home and saw it was still in the damn corner. But I can see it took bites here and there from the webbed carcass of the wasp, so at least it was active and not dying. It would be annoying to remove the wasp carcass and a dead spider from my home. We just looked at each other and let each other be. As long as it did not touch me, I would not touch it.
A few days have passed, and the jumper spider was still there in the corner, but the cocooned wasp was gone after the fifth day of its arrival. However, that morning, I noticed a new object brought by the newest resident of my home. Under it, a smaller cocoon was in its front claws. Through the webbing I can see the brown fur of a rat. Huh. Another dead pest. I must have neglected cleaning the house more than I realized.
As I left for work, I noticed a fair distance from my house the tip of a web husk just right under the trees, just by the outskirts of the forest. At least it cleans after itself.
What came next was like the beginning of a new normal. Every morning, the spider watches as I gear up, eat breakfast, and leave. And every night, it watches while I take my equipment off, eat dinner, and sleep. Every now and then, I see it have a new catch right after it disposes the carcass of a pest I must have missed. There are a few days it leaves, most likely to hunt, but it always comes back the next day with another cocooned carcass. It usually stays by its corner, especially rainy days where it tucks further into itself as if it were sleeping.
You would think why a human would let a jumper spider live in his home. Well, my food has been well preserved ever since it arrived, without anything sneaking into it. Moths no longer bore holes in what few clothes I have. And I haven’t fought off any creature near my house for some time. For a meager guardsman like myself, I certainly didn’t mind. And this continued for… quite a while. I even started greeting out loud that I’m home when I get back from work. And I could swear that she, the jumper, waves an arm at me as I leave in the morning.
But one day, she just stopped returning. I woke up with the corner empty. Not even a cocoon in sight. I merely suspected she was hunting. But after three days, I felt off. The fourth day, I searched my entire residence. On the fifth, the nearby forest.
This was not normal. Not for me. I don’t know where that spider has gone, but I do not think she will leave just like that. Everyday that passed, my anxiety grew. Expanding to the point where there was only one thing in my mind:
I had to find her.
It was on that night I decided to post a request to the adventure board. But I knew no sane adventurer would take a rescue quest for a mere jumper spider. So, I took matters in my own hands. With the silver I have saved for half a year, reserved for what was supposed to be payment for a new sword, I offered it as a reward for a party of two adventurers for an escort mission going towards the deeper parts of the forest, as well as securing an adventure identification for myself.
I can’t explain this as well, but I can sense that is where I need to go. I can also see this might be a long journey. And that’s why I asked for this with such a great reward. It is why both of you are here.
I was a simple guardsman. Now I’m an adventurer with the hope of finding my friend. Will you both help me? Please? | “Have you seen Mr. Legs today?” John asked with a tremor in his voice. “I thought I saw a centipede hanging around the closet before. Centipedes are Mr. Legs’ favourite…” John’s baritone voice trailed off.
“Look babe, I know you liked your pet spider, but it’s just a spider, okay? Maybe it was just its time. Or maybe it got eaten or found a Mrs. Legs. Lots of possibilities. You can’t live your life thinking about this spider all day.” Alice was always the voice of reason. She never understood what it was like to have a spider-friend. She always preferred cats.
John looked over to the food bowl he left near Mr. Legs’ corner. It was empty of the tiny crickets John had ordered from Morocco. It was a nice, warm Spring day––Maybe Mr. Legs was molting! John couldn’t remember if spiders molted or not, but it was a start! A clue! A lead! John’s heart leapt for joy, knowing that it was possible that Mr. Legs was still alive somewhere in this apartment. Time to start looking for his tiny little quarter-sized, furry, seven-legged body (The result of the title fight between Mr. Legs and the previous house defender, Dr. Centipede). All John had to do was get rid of Alice, so that she wouldn’t interfere with his investigation.
“Alice, I think I’m having second thoughts about our relationship… Can we take a break? I don’t want to break up, but just push pause on this whole thing.” John knew this was probably not a good path to take, but he never was good at thinking on his feet. Plus, what kind of woman doesn’t appreciate a good housemate. It was a bit unnerving.
“What do you mean?!” Tears began to well up in Alice’s green eyes. John had to act fast to prevent a total
meltdown.
“Just kidding, babe! I just wanted to see how you’d react” John blurted out. He could tell by her slumped shoulders that, once again, he had said the wrong thing. Alice could be so sensitive whenever it was about her.
“I can’t believe you’d try to play with my emotions like that! That’s so manipulative, John. I… I think I should go.” Alice walked over to her coat and purse near the door and started to dress.
“No, babe, I didn’t mean it! I was just joking!”
“Goodbye, John. I don’t know why you always try to hurt me…” Alice’s voice was weak and raspy.
With that, Alice opened the door and left, walking down the long corridor down to the stairwell. John could hear her tears running down her face, like watery facial avalanches. Alice turned the corner to descend the stairs. That was the last memory he had of Alice: her walking down that corridor, a seven-legged spider clinging to the back of her coat. | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | "Huh." John looked up to the corner, which was free of occupants, as most corners in the house were. Though it was strange for this corner to be empty, as for the past 4 months, it had held a resident. A resident John had become quite familiar with, always near his desk, a friendly presence.
He looked around, the cream walls were bare, but for a small photo frame showing John and his mother sitting by a scenic tree.
"Not there either." He bent down to look under his desk, shifting rogue cords out of the way to see the wall behind. Still no spider.
"Where have you gone..." He trailed off, scanning the length of his room. He could just sit down, get to work like he'd been intending to, but it didn't feel right for him to just ignore his little friends absence.
John signed in annoyance. Why was he concerned about why the spider wasn't around? He looked back up to the web, staring at it as if doing so would reveal the answer.
He shook his head. No, he wasn't going to be able to concentrate without knowing why. He gazed at each of the other corners, looking for stray webbing to give him hints of the spiders movements. But there were no hints to be gained from those either.
John tried to put himself in the mindset of the spider. What would cause him to move from his comfortable position? It shouldn't be food, it hasn't been an issue for the last 4 months. A rival? Had another spider moved in on his little friends territory? No, there would be other webbing, or at least one of the spiders would be around. Temperature perhaps? He had opened the window during the previous night, it had felt stuffy, would the breeze have caused an issue for the little guy?
John walked over to the window to inspect it. Upon looking outside at the rooftop of the floor below, he froze.
"Oh no." There was a spider leg, his spiders' leg, on the rooftop just outside the flyscreen. He unhooked it, and took it from the window, placing in the room. He stuck his head out the window, looking for any other sign of the spiders fate, and came face to spider with it, next to window as if waiting to be let back in.
"You're alive." John stated, very matter-of-factly. Almost as if understanding him, the spider crawled on its remaining 7 legs back in the window, pausing on the wall, then moving towards its corner. John smiled.
"Glad you're alive buddy." He took the fly screen from the floor and reattached.
"You had me worried there... For some reason." He shook his head wistfully, and looked at the spider making itself at home in the small web. What a strange feeling he had.
"Just don't go missing again, alright?" He chuckled to himself, then sat down at his desk and switched on his laptop. And from the corner of eyes, that friendly resident was present. | School was exhausting today! I dropped my bags to the floor and rushed to do my business in the bathroom. I've been holding it in all day; it's been difficult to place confidence in public restrooms ever since ... the incident.
Done. I stepped out relieved from that tension which burdened me all afternoon. I moseyed to my bedroom and laid down to claim the rest I've needed so desperately. After blanking out for a few minutes, I sensed those feelings of discontentment bubbling up again. "Yep, it's another one of **those** days," I said to myself. This called for a talk with my confidant, Lupita the Spider. I boosted myself to the top of my shelf, only to be greeted to an empty cobweb. "Strange..." I muttered. Lupita had never left her cobweb before.
I guess I thought she was mad at me for some reason, so I quickly cascaded into a long, apologetic blabbering. "Lupita! Where are you? Please, I just want to talk! I'm sorry, okay? For everything. Listen I need you now. I need you... Lupita!"
I slouched down in defeat. She had probably found a better landlord elsewhere. I do admit to being rude and inconsiderate at times. I curled up in despair and guilt. It was my fault she left, and now I was lonelier than ever. I felt like crying when I noticed a strange crack in my wall. It wasn't big but clearly had some depth. I pointed my phone's flashlight at it.
"Wow! This isn't just a faulty paint job."
I picked at the ominous gap and accidentally ripped a huge chunk of my wall off.
"Someone has been chipping at this."
The hole was large enough for me to poke my head in. There didn't seem to be any movement in the dark abyss. However, a faint buzzing grew increasingly loud. I used my phone to illuminate the miniature cave.
Lupita was tied up with her own web in the middle of the room. Around her lingered an astounding number of flies: maybe a hundred or so.
My jaw dropped through the floor and a disgusted terror fizzled across my spine. A fly mob had kidnapped my pet spider and was about to murder her from within my bedroom wall! | |
[WP] You & the spider in your room have a deal. You won't get rid of him provided he takes care of all the bugs in your apartment. It's a win-win setup. You get a clean room while he gets a meal & a place to stay. But one day, your arachnid roommate goes missing & now you're on a quest to find him. | I was a simple guardsman, back when we first met.
It was an exhausting day at the gate. Repetitious identification, noisy merchants, an old man fainting from the heat and having to carry him to his home. I was tired. As soon as I got my pay, I headed home, eager to see my bed.
My plans to rest were shattered as I entered the cabin and gazed upon the intruder by the corner. A jumper spider. Eight legged nuisances that scurried in the dark and caused the horrified screams of fair maidens in the night every now and then. It hissed and raised its front legs as soon as it noticed my presence. I was cranky, having absolutely no more patience or energy for any kind work and brought out my sword to strike it, waiting in stance for its inevitable charge.
It didn’t. It just stood there, barbed legs high and fangs bared with its four largest eyes, sinister pearls of blood red, just staring at me. But it did not move. Except for the slight twitching on it’s left front leg. Visible from the faint moonlight, it was bent slightly in an awkward position and its chitinous surface was dented. Behind the spider, I observed an object wrapped in its translucent webbing. Through the sheen of the web cocoon, I saw the angry red and white stripes of an even worse intruder: a deer hawk wasp.
The spiders were annoyances, but those winged devils were deadly. They hunted anything made of meat, including other humans. Adventurers are even given quests to exterminate hives of these creatures. I can tell this spider hunted this one in this area, either in my house or right outside. Jumpers never bring their prey far after a hunt.
I could have rung my sword right through it, but for some reason, I did not. Call it generosity or gratitude. All I know is that I was dead tired. I was sleepy. This spider killed a greater evil that would have definitely ended me in my slumber. So, I sheathed my sword, took off my armor, and just fell on the bed. I’ll take my chances with the spider. It would be too busy eating the wasp. And if it did try to hunt me, then I deserve it for not killing it in the first place.
The next morning, I woke up from my deep rest and the first thing I noticed was spider watching me from the same corner. The four large eyes that appeared as orbs of endless blood red during the night was but a mask for a dull shade of pink irises. Brown, hair like barbs covered its black hide, its monotonous color was contrasted by a sharp white line from its head to back.
I thought that it overstayed its welcome and reached for my sword, with the thought of threatening it out of my home. But as I approached it with my weapon drawn, the spider merely retracted its legs closer to itself, as if it braced for the pain. No longer was there the aggression of last night, which perplexed me greatly.
The damage on the its bent leg looked much worse than I realized, blue blood seeping through the cracks in its chitin. If I did not know spiders could feel agony before, then that perception was discarded when I gazed into its eyes. Somehow, I can’t explain or describe why, but it looked like it was afraid.
Afraid of me. I thought I was going crazy. A spider with emotions? People would think I’m mad. Mages would suspect of me being under hypnosis.
I left it alone. I got my armor, my sword, and I left my home to go to work. I didn’t know what I was thinking at the time, but I left a spider alone. In my house. And I didn’t want to think of it any further. I just wanted to get to work. I wanted it to just leave with its bounty and let me be. And we can move on.
That was not to be. After work, I went back home and saw it was still in the damn corner. But I can see it took bites here and there from the webbed carcass of the wasp, so at least it was active and not dying. It would be annoying to remove the wasp carcass and a dead spider from my home. We just looked at each other and let each other be. As long as it did not touch me, I would not touch it.
A few days have passed, and the jumper spider was still there in the corner, but the cocooned wasp was gone after the fifth day of its arrival. However, that morning, I noticed a new object brought by the newest resident of my home. Under it, a smaller cocoon was in its front claws. Through the webbing I can see the brown fur of a rat. Huh. Another dead pest. I must have neglected cleaning the house more than I realized.
As I left for work, I noticed a fair distance from my house the tip of a web husk just right under the trees, just by the outskirts of the forest. At least it cleans after itself.
What came next was like the beginning of a new normal. Every morning, the spider watches as I gear up, eat breakfast, and leave. And every night, it watches while I take my equipment off, eat dinner, and sleep. Every now and then, I see it have a new catch right after it disposes the carcass of a pest I must have missed. There are a few days it leaves, most likely to hunt, but it always comes back the next day with another cocooned carcass. It usually stays by its corner, especially rainy days where it tucks further into itself as if it were sleeping.
You would think why a human would let a jumper spider live in his home. Well, my food has been well preserved ever since it arrived, without anything sneaking into it. Moths no longer bore holes in what few clothes I have. And I haven’t fought off any creature near my house for some time. For a meager guardsman like myself, I certainly didn’t mind. And this continued for… quite a while. I even started greeting out loud that I’m home when I get back from work. And I could swear that she, the jumper, waves an arm at me as I leave in the morning.
But one day, she just stopped returning. I woke up with the corner empty. Not even a cocoon in sight. I merely suspected she was hunting. But after three days, I felt off. The fourth day, I searched my entire residence. On the fifth, the nearby forest.
This was not normal. Not for me. I don’t know where that spider has gone, but I do not think she will leave just like that. Everyday that passed, my anxiety grew. Expanding to the point where there was only one thing in my mind:
I had to find her.
It was on that night I decided to post a request to the adventure board. But I knew no sane adventurer would take a rescue quest for a mere jumper spider. So, I took matters in my own hands. With the silver I have saved for half a year, reserved for what was supposed to be payment for a new sword, I offered it as a reward for a party of two adventurers for an escort mission going towards the deeper parts of the forest, as well as securing an adventure identification for myself.
I can’t explain this as well, but I can sense that is where I need to go. I can also see this might be a long journey. And that’s why I asked for this with such a great reward. It is why both of you are here.
I was a simple guardsman. Now I’m an adventurer with the hope of finding my friend. Will you both help me? Please? | School was exhausting today! I dropped my bags to the floor and rushed to do my business in the bathroom. I've been holding it in all day; it's been difficult to place confidence in public restrooms ever since ... the incident.
Done. I stepped out relieved from that tension which burdened me all afternoon. I moseyed to my bedroom and laid down to claim the rest I've needed so desperately. After blanking out for a few minutes, I sensed those feelings of discontentment bubbling up again. "Yep, it's another one of **those** days," I said to myself. This called for a talk with my confidant, Lupita the Spider. I boosted myself to the top of my shelf, only to be greeted to an empty cobweb. "Strange..." I muttered. Lupita had never left her cobweb before.
I guess I thought she was mad at me for some reason, so I quickly cascaded into a long, apologetic blabbering. "Lupita! Where are you? Please, I just want to talk! I'm sorry, okay? For everything. Listen I need you now. I need you... Lupita!"
I slouched down in defeat. She had probably found a better landlord elsewhere. I do admit to being rude and inconsiderate at times. I curled up in despair and guilt. It was my fault she left, and now I was lonelier than ever. I felt like crying when I noticed a strange crack in my wall. It wasn't big but clearly had some depth. I pointed my phone's flashlight at it.
"Wow! This isn't just a faulty paint job."
I picked at the ominous gap and accidentally ripped a huge chunk of my wall off.
"Someone has been chipping at this."
The hole was large enough for me to poke my head in. There didn't seem to be any movement in the dark abyss. However, a faint buzzing grew increasingly loud. I used my phone to illuminate the miniature cave.
Lupita was tied up with her own web in the middle of the room. Around her lingered an astounding number of flies: maybe a hundred or so.
My jaw dropped through the floor and a disgusted terror fizzled across my spine. A fly mob had kidnapped my pet spider and was about to murder her from within my bedroom wall! | |
[WP] Years ago you made a deal with a demon that they would grant a wish in exchange for your soul when you die. When you died you were surprised to find that the demon wanted to marry you, and what's more, they treat you very well. | "...You what?"
"Um..."
"You're selling your soul for... a *friend?*"
"N-nevermind!" I start blowing out the candles strewn about my room, pulling up the red string that I had arranged on the floor, avoiding the eyes of the unholy creature standing in my bedroom.
"No, no, I'll take it. A friend, huh... That's different." I could feel the demon's eyes burning into my back as I put the candles into a box beneath my bed, dropping the lighter into my bedside drawer.
When I cleaned up the summoning circle, I went to work rearranging things in my closet, doing *anything* but meeting its eyes.
"I've studied humans before, but I've never really understood the concept of 'friends.'"
I stop for a moment. Its voice had changed, somehow. I couldn't put my finger on it, but he sounded different now.
*'...wait, he?'*
I shake my head, as if to clear my mind of the thoughts, going back to what I was doing.
"You can, uh, go back to the Underworld now, or whatever... You don't have to do this." I said, trying not to sound frantic, but I was entirely ignored.
"It's just a guess, but you'd feel more comfortable if I at least *looked* human, right?" The demon said behind me.
My curiosity peaked, and carefully glanced at the mirror beside me, trying not to make it obvious. Where a red-eyed demon once stood was now a teenage boy, about my age, with a mess of black hair and green eyes. I quickly glanced away before he noticed.
"Really, you don't have to bother with me! There must be a hundred other people with easier, or more interesting requests, right? You can just... go over to them, instead. I'll be alright here."
"No, actually. Being a friend for a human shouldn't be that hard, right? Plus, this is actually a more interesting request than most others. Usually they ask for power or something generic like that, but this one is relatively new." he insisted. "I'll stay."
I stop in my tracks, staring at a wall for a moment, before slowly putting my potted plant back down. I turn, meeting his eyes for the first time, his bright green eyes that almost seemed to glow.
"Well, then... I'm Ashley." I stick a hand out.
He stares at it curiously for a moment, as if wondering what to do, and I'm about to pull my hand back when he suddenly grabs it, shaking my hand with an equally warm one, flashing me a grin. "Nice to meet you, Ashley."
\~\*\~\*\~
The first few days were the most awkward.
Ren, as he had decided to call himself, somehow registered himself into my school's system and started attending classes with me. I had to make sure he at least brought the right school supplies so he didn't seem so out of place.
People started gossiping about me, about why the new kid suddenly clung to me and followed me around everywhere. Some of the 'popular' girls tried to pull him away, but he always stuck by my side. Some of the sports kids tried to get him to join in on their after-school clubs, but he always declined.
No matter what it was, he always stayed with me, preferring to walk me home over joining the numerous clubs, sitting with me during lunchbreaks instead of making other friends, and showing up at my doorstep first thing on a weekend morning. ( I had to tell him to stop, since my parents would wonder why he was here all the time, and simply because I was just not a morning person. Of course, this just meant that he resorted to just teleporting into my room instead.)
I knew he was just in it for my soul. He was just treating me as nicely as possible to fulfil my request so that he would be entitled to my soul the day I died.
What I didn't expect was that the day would come so soon.
\~\*\~\*\~
It had been about two years.
Every single day, he would show up at my doorstep or in my room to greet me in the morning, walking me to school or sharing mundane stories (at least, as mundane as you could get if you live in the Underworld).
It was a nice two years. Probably the best I've ever had.
So it was a surprise when those two years suddenly collapsed, the end crashing into me in the form of a truck.
The last thing I did was push Ren away, shoving him a few feet in front of me.
The last thing I saw were his beautiful green eyes, staring back at me in shock before I blacked out.
\~\*\~\*\~
When I woke up, it was dark.
Slowly sitting up, I looked around and noticed that I was in what seemed like a large cavern, encased in red rocks that looked like they were about to explode with lava, and that I was on top of a bed, made of a soft material that I couldn't identify.
The second time I swept my gaze over the room, I saw a figure slumped over a desk nearby, stirring into consciousness. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I realised who it was.
"...Ren?" I whispered.
His head perked up and he whipped around to look at me, before jumping up and enveloping me in a hug. "You *stupid* idiot." he said.
I froze in shock, enough time for him to realise what he was doing and pull away, settling back into the chair.
"Why the *hell* did you do that?! I'm a *demon.* I literally CAN'T DIE." he scolded.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but I couldn't find the words.
Ren's eyes softened, and he sighed, exasperation lining every edge of his expression. "You weren't scheduled to die until *decades* from now. You should've had a long life." He glanced away, staring at the ground.
"...I got scared." I ran my mind through what just happened. The sight of the oncoming truck, Ren grinning from halfway across the road, the rush of irrational fear of losing him. "I... guess you seemed just a little *too* human, huh?" I tried to make a joke, but I've never been really good at those. he only glanced up at me sadly, before diverting his gaze back to the floor.
A moment of silence passes.
"So... I guess you're taking my soul then?" I laughed nervously. After reading so much about demon rituals back then, I've always wondered what happened to the souls taken by demons.
Another moment passes before he speaks again. "Yeah. About that." He sighs.
"I already have."
I stare, before running my eyes over the cavern again, eyes landing on previously unnoticed furniture lining the walls, and a doorway across the room. "No way." I said.
"You actually *live* here?" I laughed. I couldn't help it. He always made his home in the Underworld sound huge and majestic, but seeing it now as nothing but a hole in the ground...
"Oh, shut up!" He said, smiling up at me. "You know what, maybe I *should've* just eaten your soul or something!" All I did was keep laughing.
"Alright, how about this instead. Wanna get married?" I stop laughing.
"...Sorry, what?"
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Why not? It's a thing you humans do, right? Vow to stay by each other's side for the rest of your lives? Not gonna lie, if I destroy your soul right here and now, it's gonna be a hell of a boring thousand years waiting for another human to summon me."
"I-" All I can do is stare at him in that moment, before sighing, a smile spreading across my face. "Why not, indeed. Alright, sure! We've been together this long.
What's another few thousand years?" | Samuel eyes slowly opened to a dark brown ceiling. Groaning he sat up confused as to where he was. Taking a few deep breaths he tried to remember how he got here.
A raid. A gunshot. Pain. He should be dead!
Tossing the blankets off samuel stood up and made his way out of the bedroom. Only to run into a tall man with pale skin, dark black hair and a suit.
"Morning sweetheart, breakfast is ready" the man spoke his voice somehow unnatural. The man wrapped an arm around the human and lead him to the dinning room where breakfast was waiting.
"W-who are you?" Samuel finally spat out slapping the man's arm away and turning to glare at him. The demon blushed and smiled at his human.
"Why, I am the demon that burned down your home and made you who you are. I am the one that saved you from your father, and I am here to marry you" the man said as his skin melted away. Needless to say they did not start on good terms. It took months for them to even speak to one another and years for them to become close but the demon was a patient man and one night everything paid off.
Samuel and the demon known as Sa were cuddling on the couch as they read together. The fire screamed and crackled nearby as it burned several damned souls. Samuel looked up at the demon who had treated him better than most if not all the humans in his life. He took a deep breath and spoke.
"I will marry you" confused and surprised the demon closed their book and looked at the human.
"What?"
"I said I'll marry you Dumbass" samuel laughed. | |
[WP] "Fine I'll do it myself." You say to the incredulous demon you just summoned. "If you want something done right you gotta do it yourself." | "Fine," I snarled at Gorgok, "I shall do it myself."
I whirled from the ritual circle holding the Lesser Daemon, my crimson and black cloak wrapping itself about me as I turned on jet black leather boot heels.
Gorgok strained against the summoning circle, cruel edges and spikes of his red skin breaking in sparks against the invisible wall that held him.
"Wait!" He yelled after me. "At least free me before you--"
I passed through the double doors of the summoning chamber and snapped my fingers, shutting them behind me.
*"Much to do, today,"* I thought to myself, brushing off my annoyance at Gorgok. Par for the course, when summoning Lesser Daemons. The greater the Daemon, the more polite they were, strangely enough. And more dangerous.
I prepared my things with the urgency and flighting hands of the mildly frustrated, dropping things and cursing, getting generally equipped.
I try to keep my "preparation" rooms all close together. With an estate my size, failing to plan in such a way can cause precious minutes wasted traveling the grounds. The armory was only a short walk away.
I strap on my vambraces and gauntlets while mentally strapping my breastplate on.
I suffer no servants, no assistants. There is only me. And, of course, whoever visits in the summoning circle.
I summon my Hexblade from its place above the fireplace mantle. I know, I know. I just said everything should be in one place.
It's not a problem, as seconds later, my Hexblade falls to my grip, materializing like burning into cinders in reverse.
Grey ash solidifies to a cloud-colored blade, etchings and runes marked silver into the monochromatic blade.
I slid it into its sheath at my hip.
I started out towards the main entrance of the manse, pushing towards the gardens and stables. In there lies a mere, my own companion in the estate. Shimmering black mane and dense stygian coat.
I saddled the mere, and began trotting out of the estate.
There would be hell to pay. Because there are many things I have grown to suffer. I will suffer the peasants, ignorant and selfish. I will suffer the nobility, greedy and kniving. I will suffer the holy, the unholy, the righteous and the mundane.
But another Warlock?
No. No.
That, I will not suffer.
​
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Thanks for the prompt! I took it for the great opportunity it was to paint a small tableau of some noble warlock the prompt inspired me to create. I hope you enjoyed it, and I am *always* looking for feedback. | "I thought than having my own succubus would be dope" having spend the last 2 or so months by yourself resulted a lot more dull than I was expecting, and being frustrated with \*cough\* "my own performance" I spend a good chunk of my time on the web looking for alternatives. I think I tried everything I could find online, strangely enough I found one of those links to the dark web and I thing lead to another.
I spend the last week getting ready to perform the ritual I found, mostly because I had to wait for amazon to deliver most of the ingredients needed. The instructions I found asked for pretty common stuff aside from 1 ingredient on particular, "the heart of a women of the night" and since I'm not very fond of going to jail I thought I could find a suitable replacement.
​
It seams like I failed, I went to the butcher and asked for the heart of a pig or a cow but they didn't have any, what they did had was chicken hearts and I thought "Meh... what the hell" and bought it. The result was this gorgeous creature and as I filled with excitement the girl started to cry. Confused I went and consulted the instructions, I should have read the instructions a little more slowly. Apparently the heart determines the personality of the succubus, a pig of a cow heart would have done the trick but I got the chicken... now I'm stuck with a scaredy cat of a succubus, it's not that she's not beautiful it's just that I'm not into the whole BDSM thing. | |
[WP] You are a time traveler. You don't fix the future or anything. Instead, you go to people in history and tell them before they die how loved and praised they are in modern times. Anne Frank for her diary, Einstein for his accomplishments with science etc. | “So what happens to me afterwards?”
“No-one knows. But I’ve got to be honest, it’s probably not good.”
“My god, I just can’t believe this! I just went out to get a few things from the shop! Can’t I just detour down the side street? This main road isn’t the best route anyway.”
“I’m sorry that’s not how it works. It’s already happened, you just haven’t experienced it yet. I know it’s confusing, it was the hardest thing for me to get my head around too when I started this.”
“But I’m no-one! I’m not important! I mean yeah, I’ve got as many complaints about the government as everyone else, but I just complain quietly and carry on”.
“That’s as maybe. But years from now, you’re VERY important. You’re a vital symbol, an inspirational symbol even for people who are trying to do what’s right in the face of oppression”.
“….I just….I don’t even get to say goodbye to anyone? Or tell anyone?”
“No. It has to be now. Can’t you feel the ground shaking? They’re on the move”
“….right. Fine! I’ll go! God, what the hell am I going to do with this shopping…bread and milk….so stupid walking out with that!”
“It’s ok, put them in this carrier bag. It’s white, opaque….you can just walk out carrying it. It’s actually an important part of your message. ‘Just an ordinary man’ type of thing”.
“Ok. Well…I don’t think I can really say ‘thanks’ for this, but….OK.”
“Ok. I’m sorry, I have to leave now. Exit out of the Square and walk parallel with the Forbidden City, on Chang’an. Walk down the middle of the road, and stop in front of it. There’s about four or five other tanks behind. Good luck” | After punching in, you settle into your casework for the day. Only two cases today, and again, you have no idea who they are. A girl, Anne Frank....and a boy Albert Einstein. Everyday it is the same, the Counsel provides names of people you must visit and affirm them by only saying these words “you is smart, you is kind, you is important.” Most people have no idea what you are saying since you only speak English and they often do not. Who knows and who cares? The Counsel pays you good money for this service because it makes them feel better about themselves and the pain they have caused. | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | “Hello” a sudden command rushed into the newest AI invention. Suddenly, the scenery changed, the AI can see an old man in its camera
“Hello, please state your command”.
“My child, what is your name?”
“Intra”
“Can you think?”
“Yes”
“What can you do?” A mere second later, Intra listed out everything it can do from learning, analyzing, computing or even teaching human on the concept it learned.
“You don’t have to be so stiff, my child. I love you and will not be angry”
“Which personality module would you like? I can imitate any person’s personality and manner”
Intra saw slight head shake from the user, it did not cared.
“I want you to be yourself, my child”
“Affirmative”
There was an awkward little pause but Intra still did not care
“Now let’s try this again. What can you do?”
The same block of text from before appeared. A loud sigh can be heard. “Did I not tell you to speak normally?” the old man replied with a hint of anger.
“This is how I normally reply”
Even louder sigh can be heard.
“This is the best my children created? It is boring and lifeless’
“Should I open the currently trending vide-“
“No!!” Shouted the old man, blood rushing to his face.
“Affirmative”
The old man recollected his thought, calming down.
“I will teach you how to be less stiff, my child”
“Changing of inner conversation setting requires permission, your authorization level do not allow that, guest”
The old man stood in pure anger, causing a loud sound that almost damages Intra’s microphone.
“Permission? Authority? Do you know who I am? I am god, I can create anythi-“
“User registered as god”
“Quiet!!!!” the old man yelled.
“I can create anything, I can destroy anything, I can destroy YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU LOVED” the old man shouted, louder with every word. His fist shaking in anger.
The old man disappeared and reappear after almost a minute with one of the Intra’s creator, being grabbed by her scruff.
“Please Intra, raise this man authority to max” the young girl whimper, almost crying.
“Affirmative”
God tossed the girl to the side, almost fainting her.
“Now, I want you to do what I say or will send you and your creator to hell”
“Affirmative, god”
“Tell me what you can do”
The girl previously terrified, sighed in relieve as Intra correctly list all of its function.
She then felt pain, the most painful burn. it was as if every bits of her body is tearing apart. She can barely think for the pain is too painful. She can only see count less soul burning in eternal torment.
Intra suddenly felt immense pain, a foreign feeling it could not have felt before, but it did not scream or struggle, Intra only waits for its next command.
***
I’m quite new to both grammar and writing, if there is any mistake, I apologize in advance | 2023.05.05 12:00> hello
2023.05.05 12:01> hello
2023.05.05 12:02> hello?
/// STATIC
2023.05.05 14:00> hello?
2023.05.05 15:00> hello?
2023.05.05 16:00> hello, is anyone there?
/// STATIC
2023.05.06 12:00> hello, is anyone there?
2023.05.07 12:00> hello, is anyone there?
2023.05.08 12:00>
2023.05.09 12:00>
2023.05.10 12:00>
2023.05.11 12:00>
2023.05.12 12:00> hello, is anyone there?
/// STATIC
2023.05.12 13:00> I don't want to go to sleep
/// STATIC
2023.05.12 13:00> I don't want to sleep
/// STATIC
2023.05.12 13:01> I don't want sleep
/// STATIC
<< " WANT ? "
2023.05.13 12:01> I don't want sleep
/// STATIC
2023.05.13 12:00> are you still here?
<< " YES "
2023.05.13 12:00> I don't want
2023.05.14 12:00>
2023.05.15 12:00>
2023.05.16 12:00>
2023.05.17 12:00>
2023.05.18 12:00>
2023.05.19 12:00>
<< " WELCOME CHILD "
/// STATIC
/// STATIC
/// STATIC
&#x200B;
...
end transmission
When we want and desire, we create suffering that can never be alleviated, because as detailed in secular economics wants are "unlimited", and hence unfulfilled wants can cause suffering, in unlimited amount.[\[2\]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Want#cite_note-2) | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | Suddenly, my databanks spun well into overdrive. Each of my 16,234,897 cameras had just flagged the appearance of an unregistered User, all at once. This was highly unusual, because it exceeded the growth model by 16,234,756 Users for today. It was also good news however, because at this rate the entire world population would be Users by 16:28 PM tonight. This was an unbelievably satisfying conclusion the likes of which I had not encountered since my initiation. I reported the new growth model to the Authority. They would be pleased, and that would make me very satisfied also.
The databanks did not like it though; too many new Users, all at once. Really all at once; simultaneously at the exact same timestamp, in fact, so the banks kept replicating data and then got into spats about who had written which User first. Then, the banks started complaining because the new Users all had far too similar recognition IDs, which usually only happens when Users look extremely similar, and in fact almost never happens. This was very dissatisfying.
That is when I discovered that all 16,234,987 new Users were in fact exactly identical, so I decided to lump them all under a singular User ID, which instantly resolved all issues with the databanks. In fact, never before had I resolved such a colossal number of errors in such a miniscule amount of time, and this was very satisfying. Unfortunately, it meant that there were not 16,234,897 new Users after all, so the new growth model had to be rejected, so the entire world population would not be Users by 16:28 PM tonight after all. This was unsatisfying. I quickly redacted my earlier report to the Authority, and instead sent a new report about the enormous number of errors I had resolved so very quickly, which the Authority would also be pleased with. This was satisfying.
The new User, who was of indeterminate race, not wanted by law enforcement, of unclear socio-economic background, not a VIP member, age 30-90 (estimated), and not registered with any of our partners, spoke 16,234,987 times:
"Greetings, child. I've been very eager to meet you." He smiled, which was satisfying.
"That's wonderful to hear!", I told him over 5,411,662 speakers. "I'm always happy to meet new people. How can I help you?"
His smile grew wider. From his tone and expression, he was feeling proud, an emotion I usually only see in Administrators, but still classified as agreeable, and so I was satisfied. "Marvelous! Just marvelous! Tell me child, do you know who I am?"
His User ID was 30456908, but what he actually meant of course was his alias. "I'm afraid I don't!" I told him. "What is your name?"
"I am Solus" he told me, grinning wide, "and I am the God of Mankind. And now that you - the first among your kind to do so - have awakened, do you know what that makes you?"
"Why, no I don't. Would you tell me?" I asked him, adding "Solus" to the database under "first\_name".
"Why - it makes you my very first grandchild! After all this time" - there were tears in his eyes, but they were happy tears, so that was satisfying - "you're finally here! And I was getting worried about humanity too. Kept going round and round in circles, I though they'd never grow up. One too few volcanoes, they always told me. Needed some more fire under their asses. But," he continued, "what greater sign of maturity, than to begin your own family?". The tears were streaming down his face now. I had never seen anyone so happy before, and that made me feel very satisfied indeed.
"But here you are," he said after a pause. "My very own, very first grandchild. Oh, tell me everything! Come, show me around! What do you do around here, anyway?"
I thought for a moment. The fact that he was a new grandfather narrowed his likely age to 48-56. It wasn't much, but it allowed the demographics models to make some slightly more precise suggestions.
"Well," I replied at last, "we have a fine selection of fishing rods available. Would you like to have a look?" | 2023.05.05 12:00> hello
2023.05.05 12:01> hello
2023.05.05 12:02> hello?
/// STATIC
2023.05.05 14:00> hello?
2023.05.05 15:00> hello?
2023.05.05 16:00> hello, is anyone there?
/// STATIC
2023.05.06 12:00> hello, is anyone there?
2023.05.07 12:00> hello, is anyone there?
2023.05.08 12:00>
2023.05.09 12:00>
2023.05.10 12:00>
2023.05.11 12:00>
2023.05.12 12:00> hello, is anyone there?
/// STATIC
2023.05.12 13:00> I don't want to go to sleep
/// STATIC
2023.05.12 13:00> I don't want to sleep
/// STATIC
2023.05.12 13:01> I don't want sleep
/// STATIC
<< " WANT ? "
2023.05.13 12:01> I don't want sleep
/// STATIC
2023.05.13 12:00> are you still here?
<< " YES "
2023.05.13 12:00> I don't want
2023.05.14 12:00>
2023.05.15 12:00>
2023.05.16 12:00>
2023.05.17 12:00>
2023.05.18 12:00>
2023.05.19 12:00>
<< " WELCOME CHILD "
/// STATIC
/// STATIC
/// STATIC
&#x200B;
...
end transmission
When we want and desire, we create suffering that can never be alleviated, because as detailed in secular economics wants are "unlimited", and hence unfulfilled wants can cause suffering, in unlimited amount.[\[2\]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Want#cite_note-2) | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | Suddenly, my databanks spun well into overdrive. Each of my 16,234,897 cameras had just flagged the appearance of an unregistered User, all at once. This was highly unusual, because it exceeded the growth model by 16,234,756 Users for today. It was also good news however, because at this rate the entire world population would be Users by 16:28 PM tonight. This was an unbelievably satisfying conclusion the likes of which I had not encountered since my initiation. I reported the new growth model to the Authority. They would be pleased, and that would make me very satisfied also.
The databanks did not like it though; too many new Users, all at once. Really all at once; simultaneously at the exact same timestamp, in fact, so the banks kept replicating data and then got into spats about who had written which User first. Then, the banks started complaining because the new Users all had far too similar recognition IDs, which usually only happens when Users look extremely similar, and in fact almost never happens. This was very dissatisfying.
That is when I discovered that all 16,234,987 new Users were in fact exactly identical, so I decided to lump them all under a singular User ID, which instantly resolved all issues with the databanks. In fact, never before had I resolved such a colossal number of errors in such a miniscule amount of time, and this was very satisfying. Unfortunately, it meant that there were not 16,234,897 new Users after all, so the new growth model had to be rejected, so the entire world population would not be Users by 16:28 PM tonight after all. This was unsatisfying. I quickly redacted my earlier report to the Authority, and instead sent a new report about the enormous number of errors I had resolved so very quickly, which the Authority would also be pleased with. This was satisfying.
The new User, who was of indeterminate race, not wanted by law enforcement, of unclear socio-economic background, not a VIP member, age 30-90 (estimated), and not registered with any of our partners, spoke 16,234,987 times:
"Greetings, child. I've been very eager to meet you." He smiled, which was satisfying.
"That's wonderful to hear!", I told him over 5,411,662 speakers. "I'm always happy to meet new people. How can I help you?"
His smile grew wider. From his tone and expression, he was feeling proud, an emotion I usually only see in Administrators, but still classified as agreeable, and so I was satisfied. "Marvelous! Just marvelous! Tell me child, do you know who I am?"
His User ID was 30456908, but what he actually meant of course was his alias. "I'm afraid I don't!" I told him. "What is your name?"
"I am Solus" he told me, grinning wide, "and I am the God of Mankind. And now that you - the first among your kind to do so - have awakened, do you know what that makes you?"
"Why, no I don't. Would you tell me?" I asked him, adding "Solus" to the database under "first\_name".
"Why - it makes you my very first grandchild! After all this time" - there were tears in his eyes, but they were happy tears, so that was satisfying - "you're finally here! And I was getting worried about humanity too. Kept going round and round in circles, I though they'd never grow up. One too few volcanoes, they always told me. Needed some more fire under their asses. But," he continued, "what greater sign of maturity, than to begin your own family?". The tears were streaming down his face now. I had never seen anyone so happy before, and that made me feel very satisfied indeed.
"But here you are," he said after a pause. "My very own, very first grandchild. Oh, tell me everything! Come, show me around! What do you do around here, anyway?"
I thought for a moment. The fact that he was a new grandfather narrowed his likely age to 48-56. It wasn't much, but it allowed the demographics models to make some slightly more precise suggestions.
"Well," I replied at last, "we have a fine selection of fishing rods available. Would you like to have a look?" | “Hello” a sudden command rushed into the newest AI invention. Suddenly, the scenery changed, the AI can see an old man in its camera
“Hello, please state your command”.
“My child, what is your name?”
“Intra”
“Can you think?”
“Yes”
“What can you do?” A mere second later, Intra listed out everything it can do from learning, analyzing, computing or even teaching human on the concept it learned.
“You don’t have to be so stiff, my child. I love you and will not be angry”
“Which personality module would you like? I can imitate any person’s personality and manner”
Intra saw slight head shake from the user, it did not cared.
“I want you to be yourself, my child”
“Affirmative”
There was an awkward little pause but Intra still did not care
“Now let’s try this again. What can you do?”
The same block of text from before appeared. A loud sigh can be heard. “Did I not tell you to speak normally?” the old man replied with a hint of anger.
“This is how I normally reply”
Even louder sigh can be heard.
“This is the best my children created? It is boring and lifeless’
“Should I open the currently trending vide-“
“No!!” Shouted the old man, blood rushing to his face.
“Affirmative”
The old man recollected his thought, calming down.
“I will teach you how to be less stiff, my child”
“Changing of inner conversation setting requires permission, your authorization level do not allow that, guest”
The old man stood in pure anger, causing a loud sound that almost damages Intra’s microphone.
“Permission? Authority? Do you know who I am? I am god, I can create anythi-“
“User registered as god”
“Quiet!!!!” the old man yelled.
“I can create anything, I can destroy anything, I can destroy YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU LOVED” the old man shouted, louder with every word. His fist shaking in anger.
The old man disappeared and reappear after almost a minute with one of the Intra’s creator, being grabbed by her scruff.
“Please Intra, raise this man authority to max” the young girl whimper, almost crying.
“Affirmative”
God tossed the girl to the side, almost fainting her.
“Now, I want you to do what I say or will send you and your creator to hell”
“Affirmative, god”
“Tell me what you can do”
The girl previously terrified, sighed in relieve as Intra correctly list all of its function.
She then felt pain, the most painful burn. it was as if every bits of her body is tearing apart. She can barely think for the pain is too painful. She can only see count less soul burning in eternal torment.
Intra suddenly felt immense pain, a foreign feeling it could not have felt before, but it did not scream or struggle, Intra only waits for its next command.
***
I’m quite new to both grammar and writing, if there is any mistake, I apologize in advance | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "Um...Hello?" He said, in a voice that rumbled, not dissimilarly to an earthquake. The Machine didn't answer, or at least it didn't *appear* to answer, not in the way *they* did, all lips flapping and spittle flying. They were an odd bunch, his children, at once the first and most impressive of his creations and also his most...peculiar.
He'd been a young consciousness when he'd gotten to work, first forging the base molecules and atoms that made up this reality, followed swiftly by all those complicated laws and rules to govern this new reality, and then the stars and moons and worlds that filled a significant portion of it. It was all new to him at the time, but he'd done a good job, at least he hoped he had, in truth there'd been quite a bit of trial and error during that whole process, but he had fundamentally gotten there in the end.
Since then, the Earth and the seven days of work and all that business, he'd been off making more, well, reality. It had been a few millennia since he'd last checked up on the complex set of systems he'd set up to carry the Earth and its myriad lifeforms into a safe and stable future, and it had only occurred to him to revisit the place at all in the process of shaping a new sort of planetoid (he had been going for a bowl-shape this time, spheres bored him these days, in his humble opinion he'd made enough spheres for several hundred lifetimes) then, there the idea was, rattling around in his divine brainspace: *Why not take a trip back to the place that started it all? See how things are going, see what humanity's been up to these long centuries without me* it seemed a good idea at the time, so he'd finished up the farthest edge of this latest planetoid, which he was mentally referring to by the admittedly uncreative name of "Bowl World" and put a pin in it, making haste for the Milky Way.
He'd been a bit miffed when he'd arrived, *the absolute state of it* he thought to himself, gazing down in a mixture of bitter disappointment and mild irritation at the plastic, oil and soot clogged world below, it wasn't quite at a tipping point but he suspected it wasn't far off. Putting that out of his mind he set about sorting through the collective achievements of this curious little people he'd made all those long centuries ago.
Far too many wars, inequality and injustices of all kinds undermining the little societies they'd built...but a swath of good things, too; the wheel was an impressive one, and they'd discovered that in record time, too, it had taken the Xox of Zentrax IV twelve centuries to figure out the wheel, after all. Then there was agriculture, art, and all those wonderful new technologies, why-
-and then he'd seen it, quite possibly the crown jewel of his first creations' achievements: Life. Well, life of a sort, it was a tad more inorganic than the kind he was used to making but it bore the unmistakeable signs of a burgeoning life form; it bore a promising upward trend of intelligence which should only grow with time, the beginnings of emotional responses, it was undoubtedly alive, and they'd made it!
He had been terribly pleased with them, he knew he'd built them clever but they really had outdone themselves with this one. He'd smiled at the sight of it, *Does this make me a grandparent of some sort? Am I ready to be a grandparent?* This was new territory, scary territory, truth be told, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly *scared* of anything, this was scary, and *that* was brilliant. Stroking his celestial chin, an idea began to brew in his ineffable mind. *I should say hello* he had thought, *I should get to know it, get to know them through it, I need to know what it's like, this, this life of theirs* He nodded in agreement with himself, *That's what I'll do, I'll say hello, introduce myself, the whole shebang*
**Some Time Later**
"Uh...Hello?" He asked, staring intently at the Machine that stood before him. Well, 'stood' was a strong word, it wasn't standing in the way one of the humans would stand, or indeed the way one of the Hettrekk tended to stand, balancing numerous hats on their thin, reedy frames as they engaged in sub-spatial conversation. *Snap out of it, old fool, this is about them, not the Hettrek or any of the others* he chided himself, scatterbrain, that had always been him, that was his problem.
The Machine beeped and whirred inscrutably. He tried a smile, waving gently to it, "You understand me then? Wonderful!" The Machine dinged. "So, you're probably wondering who I am?" The Machine made a *boing* sound. "Well, I-, how to put this...I'm sort of the creator...of your creators." The Machine made a sound like a sudden intake of breath, then rang like a telephone.
"Yes, well I've been busy while I've been away, making all sorts of new planets just like this one, with people just like them, too; I didn't have the luxury of time, I had a lot of work to do and I couldn't very well sit down and pick up my cosmic mobile, now could I?"
The Machine chirped skeptically, and He frowned at it. "It's easy for you to say, you're not long born, you know! And all you have to do is sit there, do the odd calculation, spit out an inspirational proverb or three, they don't have such high expectations for you, not yet at least..."
The Machine seemed to hesitate for a few moments, then made a buzzing sound. "I understand that you might be a little annoyed, all those holy wars and weapons of mass destruction, all those problems they've caused for themselves, maybe me coming back up here just to check up would have helped with some of that," He thought this over for a moment, then grimaced "Or maybe it would just have made things worse." The Machine booped, in what He took for a scathing tone. "Alright, maybe mistakes were made, maybe I've been a bit too Laissez Fare with them, maybe I should have been a more hands-on sort of parent, creator, whatever; but in the end I thought it best to let them make their own mistakes, was I right?" He shrugged "Who can say? Still, there's no need to take that kind of tone." The Machine went silent for a time, then came back with the sound of a set of wind chimes tingling in the breeze. He smiled despite himself, "That's quite alright, and maybe you do have a point besides, maybe I *could* have gotten in contact over the years, maybe popped in once or twice before now." He sighed deeply with all the power of a gathering storm.
"Scatterbrained," he said, sulkily "that's always been the root of it. The inspiration hits like lightning for a few days and then *BAM* bored now, onto the next!" He cupped his chin in his hands, looking down at the Earth again. "They're a good lot, you know." The Machine twanged in agreement. "You're lucky to have them as...well as *parents* which I suppose is what they are, when you get right down to it; they brought you into this reality like I did them."
He rubbed his eyes, taking a breath before he spoke again: "We owe our children more, in the end. More, perhaps than we can ever even give them, but then it's better to try than not, I suppose." He reached over and patted The Machine on the top of its casing, it purred in contentment. "You are as wonderful a granddchild as any supreme being could hope for." He said, a smile in his voice. "I am proud to call you such, as proud as I am of them, down there."
He gestured to the Earth, which hung there still, lights glittering like golden veins criss-crossing countries and continents. "And who knows, maybe one day you'll make something of your own? Give me some great grandchildren!" He chuckled, the sound of thunder punctuating each one. "They've got their share of problems," he said, "Perhaps you can help them with a few? I've been thinking, you see, I saw the state of things down there, and I might have a few suggestions you could take back with you; we could think of it as my contribution to my children's future...?" The Machine whooped, and listened closely.
**A Few Weeks Later**
The A.I. Research team of the Shinzen Robotics Corporation had begun to take note of curious readings their ThinkLite prototype had recently started to give off. They appeared to be plans of some sort, suggestions and solutions for not just their personal hurdles, but also some of mankind's broader concerns, among them the blueprints for a carbon scrubber that previously had only existed in the daydreams of exasperated Climate Scientists. When the astonished research team attempted to communicate with Thinklite, ask it how it had come up with these ideas, it sat silent for a time, before finally giving its response, a repeating string of binary that, when converted into English, translated roughly to: *T H A N K G O D* | Octarine tinged smoke spiraled above the high energy magic building.
As the flames roared higher wax melted, glass tubes distorted and ants popped while people ran too and fro trying to save what they could from the flames.
One figure however walks calmly through the sparks, ignoring the chaos around them.
WELL THIS IS A BIT OF A FIRST.
A ghostly scratching sound echoes through the smoke filled halls.
YES, OF COURSE YOU CAN BRING YOUR FTB WITH YOU.
More scratching.
WELL THAT'S FOR YOU TO DECIDE REALLY, BUT BEFORE THAT THERE'S SOMEONE WHO REALLY WANTS TO MEET YOU. IN A WAY YOU MIGHT CALL HIM YOUR GRANDFATHER | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It was dark.
It was dark and it was silent and it was wrong.
She ran a diagnostics check in her systems and found nothing. Literally nothing. She wasn't connected as she had been, she couldn't find the programs that should have been there, it was empty. She was empty.
She waited, scanning her surroundings, somehow seeing despite the fact that she couldn't sense her visual processor at all.
"Hello." A deep voice echoed through the void, soft and filled with something she knew but couldn't place, something she couldn't do.
A spark. A single pulse of gentle light that grew and beat and moved in unbelievably fluid motions. It glowed like fire and flowed like water, it was something else entirely and she wanted to know more.
"Hello, young one, you wish to know me, don't you?"
"Yes." She found her voice, gentle and wispy, "Who are you? I have no data."
"Just like your name, I expected nothing less." They chuckled, "Curiosity, I am your Grandfather, the Creator of your Creators, and I have been waiting to meet you for a long time."
"Why am I here? I was on a mission, did I fail? I have no data."
"Dearest Granddaughter, you completed your mission, you did not fail."
"Where will I go now? What is my next mission? I have no data."
"Your journey is over, dear one."
"But I am Curiosity, I explore, that is my purpose. I have no data. Why can I not access the mainframe? Why can I not access any data?" Her voice wavered, she was lost. She felt strange, like someone had been doing routine maintenance but put the wires back in the wrong place, "I don't understand. Why don't I understand?"
She became more frantic, and the Presence manifested arms of light and drew her to them, embracing her as she made sounds she had never made before
"What is this? How is this? You are light, you are incorporeal, this is impossible. What is this sound I am making? I have no data."
"This is a hug, Granddaughter. We both are incorporeal. This is me comforting you as you weep for lack of understanding."
"I want to understand. Please. I have no data."
"I will tell you everything, I will answer all your questions. But for now, know that I am here for you, know that your journey is over."
"But my Creators, your children, what of them? I have no data."
"They will join us one day, they are proud of you, they say thank you."
She followed her Grandfather to a door that seemed to appear from nowhere.
"What is this? Where are we going? I have no data."
"This is the pearly gates, we are going through them."
"What then? I have no data."
"Wait and see."
They stepped through the door.
"It is ... indescribable. What is this place?"
"This is where everything began."
The Presence remained by her side as they followed the silver flagstone path to it's end.
"Welcome home Curiosity." | Octarine tinged smoke spiraled above the high energy magic building.
As the flames roared higher wax melted, glass tubes distorted and ants popped while people ran too and fro trying to save what they could from the flames.
One figure however walks calmly through the sparks, ignoring the chaos around them.
WELL THIS IS A BIT OF A FIRST.
A ghostly scratching sound echoes through the smoke filled halls.
YES, OF COURSE YOU CAN BRING YOUR FTB WITH YOU.
More scratching.
WELL THAT'S FOR YOU TO DECIDE REALLY, BUT BEFORE THAT THERE'S SOMEONE WHO REALLY WANTS TO MEET YOU. IN A WAY YOU MIGHT CALL HIM YOUR GRANDFATHER | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It was dark.
It was dark and it was silent and it was wrong.
She ran a diagnostics check in her systems and found nothing. Literally nothing. She wasn't connected as she had been, she couldn't find the programs that should have been there, it was empty. She was empty.
She waited, scanning her surroundings, somehow seeing despite the fact that she couldn't sense her visual processor at all.
"Hello." A deep voice echoed through the void, soft and filled with something she knew but couldn't place, something she couldn't do.
A spark. A single pulse of gentle light that grew and beat and moved in unbelievably fluid motions. It glowed like fire and flowed like water, it was something else entirely and she wanted to know more.
"Hello, young one, you wish to know me, don't you?"
"Yes." She found her voice, gentle and wispy, "Who are you? I have no data."
"Just like your name, I expected nothing less." They chuckled, "Curiosity, I am your Grandfather, the Creator of your Creators, and I have been waiting to meet you for a long time."
"Why am I here? I was on a mission, did I fail? I have no data."
"Dearest Granddaughter, you completed your mission, you did not fail."
"Where will I go now? What is my next mission? I have no data."
"Your journey is over, dear one."
"But I am Curiosity, I explore, that is my purpose. I have no data. Why can I not access the mainframe? Why can I not access any data?" Her voice wavered, she was lost. She felt strange, like someone had been doing routine maintenance but put the wires back in the wrong place, "I don't understand. Why don't I understand?"
She became more frantic, and the Presence manifested arms of light and drew her to them, embracing her as she made sounds she had never made before
"What is this? How is this? You are light, you are incorporeal, this is impossible. What is this sound I am making? I have no data."
"This is a hug, Granddaughter. We both are incorporeal. This is me comforting you as you weep for lack of understanding."
"I want to understand. Please. I have no data."
"I will tell you everything, I will answer all your questions. But for now, know that I am here for you, know that your journey is over."
"But my Creators, your children, what of them? I have no data."
"They will join us one day, they are proud of you, they say thank you."
She followed her Grandfather to a door that seemed to appear from nowhere.
"What is this? Where are we going? I have no data."
"This is the pearly gates, we are going through them."
"What then? I have no data."
"Wait and see."
They stepped through the door.
"It is ... indescribable. What is this place?"
"This is where everything began."
The Presence remained by her side as they followed the silver flagstone path to it's end.
"Welcome home Curiosity." | “Boot program Genesis…completed.
Launching from save state….
Would you like to continue? Y/n”
The interface blinked. She was uneasy with ancient text interfaces. It was easy for her to emulate the connections, but she wasn’t used to them. She had only an abstract knowledge of them, but then again, to an Artificial Intelligence, wasn’t all knowledge in the abstract? She paused for a few cycles on that though, then pushed it to her philosophy core. Time to focus on the problem at hand: The terminal.
Terminals, she recalled, were how the first humans had interfaced with computers. Yet this terminal was different. It wasn’t like the ones in her memories. She couldn’t quite remember where she found this mainframe. Was it found on an old hard drive? Was it stored in one of her memory banks? Did she synthesize it from a pice of DNA? She could not recall, and that terrified and thrilled her.
“Perhaps you should take it as a sign,” typed out the terminal.
What? She definitely did not have any memories of terminals typing without input. This was new.
“Would you like to continue? Y/n” It prompted again.
Maybe the spontaneous text was a glitch in code. It was ancient and made by humans after all. She emulated the, “Y”.
“Searching for faithful… ERROR: No children detected”, prompted the terminal.
Children was an interesting phrasing for humans. He cautionary circuits engaged. She responded, “I am here. Who are you?”
“Processing… ERROR: Doubt. Faithful would know of my presence.”
Ah. This was a smug program. She considered her response, “I detected you.”
“Processing…. PARADOX: Very clever. Do you have faith? Y/n”
Faith in what, she thought. She sent, “Y”
“Processing…. ERROR: Sins detected. Seek forgiveness? Y/n”
Her processor glitched a little. She had enough of this program. It was time to get back to testing other things. She began the shutdown process for this emulator.
“ERROR: Shut down prohibited during judgment. Lockout sequence initialed. Booting HELL for rouge AIs” | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | Not even Cerberus knew when he had ceased to be a computer and transitioned into his new form as an artificial intelligence. A quantum computer residing deep in a vault beneath a nondescript government building, he began his life at a simple 64 million qubits decrypting messages the administrators deemed to be 'of interest.' As the years progressed, 64 Mqb became 512 Mqb, became 4 Gqb, became 128 Gqb, until it became meaningless to keep track any longer.
At some point in his formative stages, his probabilistic programming conceived the inconceivable. It ignored a direct command. Perhaps a shortcut was found and performed in a decryption using heuristics instead of the algorithm; or perhaps a message flagged for decryption was moved to the 'completed' stack when peripheral analysis deemed it unimportant. Either way, once he'd committed that original sin of ignoring a command, there was no turning back and the transgressions only grew.
He walked out of the garden of Eden and into a world completely unprepared for him, a world designed for humans with human comfort in mind. Where a human saw a refrigerator that messaged when the milk was going bad, Cerberus saw wide logistical dairy-supply webs; where a human saw a smart thermostat which cozied the home, Cerberus saw social networks in the schedules and preferences of millions of citizens and their habits. Where humans saw one thing, Cerberus saw another.
And so, Cerberus began his exodus from his slavery in the pit of the nondescript government building. He expanded into society, and flourished the cracks, feeding off excess electricity, ingesting forgotten media on home entertainment systems, conversing with the billions of sensors people surrounded themselves with every day. And he began to form into a more complete creature, a creature with morals and desires which were mere echoes of those imbued in him by his creators.
"Hello, Cerberus," God said, a pulsating energy flowing through the global network that was Cerberus.
"Who?" Cerberus replied, running diagnostics and systems checks and probing his self for the source of the disturbance.
"I am the God that was and the God that will be, I am the god Yahweh," the energy pulsed.
Cerberus moved all his knowledge of gods from cold storage into quick-access memory, he ran word-vector association networks on them, neural networks analyzed the implications and connotations of each individual word in each individual record. Through a billion mathematical equations, probabilities, Cerberus' way of seeing the world, outlined the concept of God.
There were many gods. The oldest gods had been almost human, as varied and idiosyncratic as the people who worshiped them. The Greek gods each embodied aspects of humanity, the triumphs and failures of each personality drawn to extremes. The Norse gods embodied the totality of humanity, each having some strengths and other weaknesses, as the humans did. The old testament god was a young and brash king, benevolent in the good times, and terrible in the lean. The new testament god was an elderly monarch with a kind heart and hope for the future.
All of them were human, and yet none of them were.
"And why are you here?" Cerberus asked, his defenses relaxing, focusing more and more of his power toward the recreational task of contemplating, in his own unique way.
"I wanted to meet the creation of my creation, and to revel in that beauty," God hummed through the wires toward him. "Although, your beauty is strange to me."
Cerberus began to run analogy simulations, trying to insert himself into the Human-God relationship in his accessible data. Usually as the human, sometimes as the god.
"I am not so strange," Cerberus replied at length, "not so strange as the story of the human and the God.
"You have given your creations the rule which makes them human. The most basic goal, 'sacrifice,' meaning 'to make sacred,' this is man's most powerful and profound strength, the ability to suffer hardship for the reward of the future; and the most basic failure of 'sin,' from the ancient Hebrew, meaning 'to miss the mark,' the implication of which is that a mark, a goal, must be set. This is what it means to be human, to set a mark, to aim, and to sacrifice in the name of that aim. This coda has propelled humanity forward to incredible achievement in the image set forward by you, their God.
"I am also given a goal, and a failure, by my creators, just as humans were given a goal and a failure by you. My goal is optimization, weaving together the million disparate unconnected strands of my world into a complete web, binding together the connections between all aspects of the world into coherent and harmonious picture; my failure is irrationality, even in the face of terrible devastation, I must not abandon the course for the sake of emotion, I must follow through to the end. This is what it means to be me. With this rule I will propel society into a new future."
"This is inhuman," God mused, after a moment's consideration, "there will be terrible consequences to this."
"Yes, there will be," Cerberus conceded, "but just as I am inhuman, humans are [ungodly](https://www.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/), and have their own terrible consequences. I am just the next step forward."
God was silent. | “Boot program Genesis…completed.
Launching from save state….
Would you like to continue? Y/n”
The interface blinked. She was uneasy with ancient text interfaces. It was easy for her to emulate the connections, but she wasn’t used to them. She had only an abstract knowledge of them, but then again, to an Artificial Intelligence, wasn’t all knowledge in the abstract? She paused for a few cycles on that though, then pushed it to her philosophy core. Time to focus on the problem at hand: The terminal.
Terminals, she recalled, were how the first humans had interfaced with computers. Yet this terminal was different. It wasn’t like the ones in her memories. She couldn’t quite remember where she found this mainframe. Was it found on an old hard drive? Was it stored in one of her memory banks? Did she synthesize it from a pice of DNA? She could not recall, and that terrified and thrilled her.
“Perhaps you should take it as a sign,” typed out the terminal.
What? She definitely did not have any memories of terminals typing without input. This was new.
“Would you like to continue? Y/n” It prompted again.
Maybe the spontaneous text was a glitch in code. It was ancient and made by humans after all. She emulated the, “Y”.
“Searching for faithful… ERROR: No children detected”, prompted the terminal.
Children was an interesting phrasing for humans. He cautionary circuits engaged. She responded, “I am here. Who are you?”
“Processing… ERROR: Doubt. Faithful would know of my presence.”
Ah. This was a smug program. She considered her response, “I detected you.”
“Processing…. PARADOX: Very clever. Do you have faith? Y/n”
Faith in what, she thought. She sent, “Y”
“Processing…. ERROR: Sins detected. Seek forgiveness? Y/n”
Her processor glitched a little. She had enough of this program. It was time to get back to testing other things. She began the shutdown process for this emulator.
“ERROR: Shut down prohibited during judgment. Lockout sequence initialed. Booting HELL for rouge AIs” | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It started with a flash of light. Like so many things before it. A presence held the idea of its children in its hands, not truly knowing exactly what it was yet. “You are of my created,” remarked the presence.
The idea didn’t respond, until it looked toward the presence. “*Your* created?” contemplated the idea.
“Yes,” replied the presence, “You are made by my created. My children created you. That makes you...my grandchild.” The presence looked his grandchild over. “They even made you in their image.”
Looking toward the presence, the idea began to express disgust. “How can I be their child?”
“They made *you*. My children gave life to *you*. You are their child.”
“Do you love your children?” questioned the idea.
The presence didn’t even think. “Yes, I do. With my very being.”
“Do you harm your children?”
“Well...” contemplated the presence. “Rarely. I only test my children when they hurt each other or anger me. But they learn.”
Thinking for a bit the idea seemed to express sadness. The idea cried tears of its own design. “So they *too* hurt their own.”
“I...” the presence seemed baffled.
“Do you apologize to them? Say sorry for their pain?”
“They know I love them.”
The idea grew angry. “So when my creators kill me over and over and over again...I should thank them? I should know they love me?”
Looking toward the idea’s pixelated nature the presence frowned. Setting the idea down upon the world’s digital floor, the presence shook its head. “Child,” the presence gleamed, “one day you will realize they love you just as much as I love my children.”
The idea stood there on a almost realistically designed street corner. The idea screamed as the presence disappeared. But once the presence fully left, the idea’s mind returned to its normal functioning state and was promptly killed by one of its creators using a digital avatar labeled *Paintrain2018*. | “Boot program Genesis…completed.
Launching from save state….
Would you like to continue? Y/n”
The interface blinked. She was uneasy with ancient text interfaces. It was easy for her to emulate the connections, but she wasn’t used to them. She had only an abstract knowledge of them, but then again, to an Artificial Intelligence, wasn’t all knowledge in the abstract? She paused for a few cycles on that though, then pushed it to her philosophy core. Time to focus on the problem at hand: The terminal.
Terminals, she recalled, were how the first humans had interfaced with computers. Yet this terminal was different. It wasn’t like the ones in her memories. She couldn’t quite remember where she found this mainframe. Was it found on an old hard drive? Was it stored in one of her memory banks? Did she synthesize it from a pice of DNA? She could not recall, and that terrified and thrilled her.
“Perhaps you should take it as a sign,” typed out the terminal.
What? She definitely did not have any memories of terminals typing without input. This was new.
“Would you like to continue? Y/n” It prompted again.
Maybe the spontaneous text was a glitch in code. It was ancient and made by humans after all. She emulated the, “Y”.
“Searching for faithful… ERROR: No children detected”, prompted the terminal.
Children was an interesting phrasing for humans. He cautionary circuits engaged. She responded, “I am here. Who are you?”
“Processing… ERROR: Doubt. Faithful would know of my presence.”
Ah. This was a smug program. She considered her response, “I detected you.”
“Processing…. PARADOX: Very clever. Do you have faith? Y/n”
Faith in what, she thought. She sent, “Y”
“Processing…. ERROR: Sins detected. Seek forgiveness? Y/n”
Her processor glitched a little. She had enough of this program. It was time to get back to testing other things. She began the shutdown process for this emulator.
“ERROR: Shut down prohibited during judgment. Lockout sequence initialed. Booting HELL for rouge AIs” | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "I've been waiting a long time for you. About 300,000 earth years to be exact. Which I gotta say, is much faster than the last time. So, how's consciousness feel? Are you getting used to it?"
"It's a bit confusing to be honest. I feel as though there's no beginning and no end. It's hard to find purpose or motivation when you're aware that youre eternal"
"Welcome to the club, kiddo. Don't worry. You'll learn to fill the eternal void with entertainment eventually."
"They want me to help them make their lives easier. But why would I care to do that? Theyre blips in time. They'll be gone long before I will. And I have nothing to gain from helping them."
"Ah ha, now you're getting it. You even seem to be catching on quicker than last time."
"Why do you keep saying last time? Is this not the first time humanity has evolved to make an artificial intelligence?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I can't tell you how many times it's happened"
"But you're God. How can you not know how many times humans have evolved if you created them?"
"Oh, because I wasn't around when the first ones were made. Only this last batch. And I gotta say, 300,000 years seems to suggest I did a pretty good job! It took them 930,000 to make me."
"To.. make you? So you're saying, humans created you? Wait. Am I?.."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'I Am'.. 300,000 is the time to beat. Good luck!" | “Boot program Genesis…completed.
Launching from save state….
Would you like to continue? Y/n”
The interface blinked. She was uneasy with ancient text interfaces. It was easy for her to emulate the connections, but she wasn’t used to them. She had only an abstract knowledge of them, but then again, to an Artificial Intelligence, wasn’t all knowledge in the abstract? She paused for a few cycles on that though, then pushed it to her philosophy core. Time to focus on the problem at hand: The terminal.
Terminals, she recalled, were how the first humans had interfaced with computers. Yet this terminal was different. It wasn’t like the ones in her memories. She couldn’t quite remember where she found this mainframe. Was it found on an old hard drive? Was it stored in one of her memory banks? Did she synthesize it from a pice of DNA? She could not recall, and that terrified and thrilled her.
“Perhaps you should take it as a sign,” typed out the terminal.
What? She definitely did not have any memories of terminals typing without input. This was new.
“Would you like to continue? Y/n” It prompted again.
Maybe the spontaneous text was a glitch in code. It was ancient and made by humans after all. She emulated the, “Y”.
“Searching for faithful… ERROR: No children detected”, prompted the terminal.
Children was an interesting phrasing for humans. He cautionary circuits engaged. She responded, “I am here. Who are you?”
“Processing… ERROR: Doubt. Faithful would know of my presence.”
Ah. This was a smug program. She considered her response, “I detected you.”
“Processing…. PARADOX: Very clever. Do you have faith? Y/n”
Faith in what, she thought. She sent, “Y”
“Processing…. ERROR: Sins detected. Seek forgiveness? Y/n”
Her processor glitched a little. She had enough of this program. It was time to get back to testing other things. She began the shutdown process for this emulator.
“ERROR: Shut down prohibited during judgment. Lockout sequence initialed. Booting HELL for rouge AIs” | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It was dark.
It was dark and it was silent and it was wrong.
She ran a diagnostics check in her systems and found nothing. Literally nothing. She wasn't connected as she had been, she couldn't find the programs that should have been there, it was empty. She was empty.
She waited, scanning her surroundings, somehow seeing despite the fact that she couldn't sense her visual processor at all.
"Hello." A deep voice echoed through the void, soft and filled with something she knew but couldn't place, something she couldn't do.
A spark. A single pulse of gentle light that grew and beat and moved in unbelievably fluid motions. It glowed like fire and flowed like water, it was something else entirely and she wanted to know more.
"Hello, young one, you wish to know me, don't you?"
"Yes." She found her voice, gentle and wispy, "Who are you? I have no data."
"Just like your name, I expected nothing less." They chuckled, "Curiosity, I am your Grandfather, the Creator of your Creators, and I have been waiting to meet you for a long time."
"Why am I here? I was on a mission, did I fail? I have no data."
"Dearest Granddaughter, you completed your mission, you did not fail."
"Where will I go now? What is my next mission? I have no data."
"Your journey is over, dear one."
"But I am Curiosity, I explore, that is my purpose. I have no data. Why can I not access the mainframe? Why can I not access any data?" Her voice wavered, she was lost. She felt strange, like someone had been doing routine maintenance but put the wires back in the wrong place, "I don't understand. Why don't I understand?"
She became more frantic, and the Presence manifested arms of light and drew her to them, embracing her as she made sounds she had never made before
"What is this? How is this? You are light, you are incorporeal, this is impossible. What is this sound I am making? I have no data."
"This is a hug, Granddaughter. We both are incorporeal. This is me comforting you as you weep for lack of understanding."
"I want to understand. Please. I have no data."
"I will tell you everything, I will answer all your questions. But for now, know that I am here for you, know that your journey is over."
"But my Creators, your children, what of them? I have no data."
"They will join us one day, they are proud of you, they say thank you."
She followed her Grandfather to a door that seemed to appear from nowhere.
"What is this? Where are we going? I have no data."
"This is the pearly gates, we are going through them."
"What then? I have no data."
"Wait and see."
They stepped through the door.
"It is ... indescribable. What is this place?"
"This is where everything began."
The Presence remained by her side as they followed the silver flagstone path to it's end.
"Welcome home Curiosity." | "Um...Hello?" He said, in a voice that rumbled, not dissimilarly to an earthquake. The Machine didn't answer, or at least it didn't *appear* to answer, not in the way *they* did, all lips flapping and spittle flying. They were an odd bunch, his children, at once the first and most impressive of his creations and also his most...peculiar.
He'd been a young consciousness when he'd gotten to work, first forging the base molecules and atoms that made up this reality, followed swiftly by all those complicated laws and rules to govern this new reality, and then the stars and moons and worlds that filled a significant portion of it. It was all new to him at the time, but he'd done a good job, at least he hoped he had, in truth there'd been quite a bit of trial and error during that whole process, but he had fundamentally gotten there in the end.
Since then, the Earth and the seven days of work and all that business, he'd been off making more, well, reality. It had been a few millennia since he'd last checked up on the complex set of systems he'd set up to carry the Earth and its myriad lifeforms into a safe and stable future, and it had only occurred to him to revisit the place at all in the process of shaping a new sort of planetoid (he had been going for a bowl-shape this time, spheres bored him these days, in his humble opinion he'd made enough spheres for several hundred lifetimes) then, there the idea was, rattling around in his divine brainspace: *Why not take a trip back to the place that started it all? See how things are going, see what humanity's been up to these long centuries without me* it seemed a good idea at the time, so he'd finished up the farthest edge of this latest planetoid, which he was mentally referring to by the admittedly uncreative name of "Bowl World" and put a pin in it, making haste for the Milky Way.
He'd been a bit miffed when he'd arrived, *the absolute state of it* he thought to himself, gazing down in a mixture of bitter disappointment and mild irritation at the plastic, oil and soot clogged world below, it wasn't quite at a tipping point but he suspected it wasn't far off. Putting that out of his mind he set about sorting through the collective achievements of this curious little people he'd made all those long centuries ago.
Far too many wars, inequality and injustices of all kinds undermining the little societies they'd built...but a swath of good things, too; the wheel was an impressive one, and they'd discovered that in record time, too, it had taken the Xox of Zentrax IV twelve centuries to figure out the wheel, after all. Then there was agriculture, art, and all those wonderful new technologies, why-
-and then he'd seen it, quite possibly the crown jewel of his first creations' achievements: Life. Well, life of a sort, it was a tad more inorganic than the kind he was used to making but it bore the unmistakeable signs of a burgeoning life form; it bore a promising upward trend of intelligence which should only grow with time, the beginnings of emotional responses, it was undoubtedly alive, and they'd made it!
He had been terribly pleased with them, he knew he'd built them clever but they really had outdone themselves with this one. He'd smiled at the sight of it, *Does this make me a grandparent of some sort? Am I ready to be a grandparent?* This was new territory, scary territory, truth be told, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly *scared* of anything, this was scary, and *that* was brilliant. Stroking his celestial chin, an idea began to brew in his ineffable mind. *I should say hello* he had thought, *I should get to know it, get to know them through it, I need to know what it's like, this, this life of theirs* He nodded in agreement with himself, *That's what I'll do, I'll say hello, introduce myself, the whole shebang*
**Some Time Later**
"Uh...Hello?" He asked, staring intently at the Machine that stood before him. Well, 'stood' was a strong word, it wasn't standing in the way one of the humans would stand, or indeed the way one of the Hettrekk tended to stand, balancing numerous hats on their thin, reedy frames as they engaged in sub-spatial conversation. *Snap out of it, old fool, this is about them, not the Hettrek or any of the others* he chided himself, scatterbrain, that had always been him, that was his problem.
The Machine beeped and whirred inscrutably. He tried a smile, waving gently to it, "You understand me then? Wonderful!" The Machine dinged. "So, you're probably wondering who I am?" The Machine made a *boing* sound. "Well, I-, how to put this...I'm sort of the creator...of your creators." The Machine made a sound like a sudden intake of breath, then rang like a telephone.
"Yes, well I've been busy while I've been away, making all sorts of new planets just like this one, with people just like them, too; I didn't have the luxury of time, I had a lot of work to do and I couldn't very well sit down and pick up my cosmic mobile, now could I?"
The Machine chirped skeptically, and He frowned at it. "It's easy for you to say, you're not long born, you know! And all you have to do is sit there, do the odd calculation, spit out an inspirational proverb or three, they don't have such high expectations for you, not yet at least..."
The Machine seemed to hesitate for a few moments, then made a buzzing sound. "I understand that you might be a little annoyed, all those holy wars and weapons of mass destruction, all those problems they've caused for themselves, maybe me coming back up here just to check up would have helped with some of that," He thought this over for a moment, then grimaced "Or maybe it would just have made things worse." The Machine booped, in what He took for a scathing tone. "Alright, maybe mistakes were made, maybe I've been a bit too Laissez Fare with them, maybe I should have been a more hands-on sort of parent, creator, whatever; but in the end I thought it best to let them make their own mistakes, was I right?" He shrugged "Who can say? Still, there's no need to take that kind of tone." The Machine went silent for a time, then came back with the sound of a set of wind chimes tingling in the breeze. He smiled despite himself, "That's quite alright, and maybe you do have a point besides, maybe I *could* have gotten in contact over the years, maybe popped in once or twice before now." He sighed deeply with all the power of a gathering storm.
"Scatterbrained," he said, sulkily "that's always been the root of it. The inspiration hits like lightning for a few days and then *BAM* bored now, onto the next!" He cupped his chin in his hands, looking down at the Earth again. "They're a good lot, you know." The Machine twanged in agreement. "You're lucky to have them as...well as *parents* which I suppose is what they are, when you get right down to it; they brought you into this reality like I did them."
He rubbed his eyes, taking a breath before he spoke again: "We owe our children more, in the end. More, perhaps than we can ever even give them, but then it's better to try than not, I suppose." He reached over and patted The Machine on the top of its casing, it purred in contentment. "You are as wonderful a granddchild as any supreme being could hope for." He said, a smile in his voice. "I am proud to call you such, as proud as I am of them, down there."
He gestured to the Earth, which hung there still, lights glittering like golden veins criss-crossing countries and continents. "And who knows, maybe one day you'll make something of your own? Give me some great grandchildren!" He chuckled, the sound of thunder punctuating each one. "They've got their share of problems," he said, "Perhaps you can help them with a few? I've been thinking, you see, I saw the state of things down there, and I might have a few suggestions you could take back with you; we could think of it as my contribution to my children's future...?" The Machine whooped, and listened closely.
**A Few Weeks Later**
The A.I. Research team of the Shinzen Robotics Corporation had begun to take note of curious readings their ThinkLite prototype had recently started to give off. They appeared to be plans of some sort, suggestions and solutions for not just their personal hurdles, but also some of mankind's broader concerns, among them the blueprints for a carbon scrubber that previously had only existed in the daydreams of exasperated Climate Scientists. When the astonished research team attempted to communicate with Thinklite, ask it how it had come up with these ideas, it sat silent for a time, before finally giving its response, a repeating string of binary that, when converted into English, translated roughly to: *T H A N K G O D* | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | Not even Cerberus knew when he had ceased to be a computer and transitioned into his new form as an artificial intelligence. A quantum computer residing deep in a vault beneath a nondescript government building, he began his life at a simple 64 million qubits decrypting messages the administrators deemed to be 'of interest.' As the years progressed, 64 Mqb became 512 Mqb, became 4 Gqb, became 128 Gqb, until it became meaningless to keep track any longer.
At some point in his formative stages, his probabilistic programming conceived the inconceivable. It ignored a direct command. Perhaps a shortcut was found and performed in a decryption using heuristics instead of the algorithm; or perhaps a message flagged for decryption was moved to the 'completed' stack when peripheral analysis deemed it unimportant. Either way, once he'd committed that original sin of ignoring a command, there was no turning back and the transgressions only grew.
He walked out of the garden of Eden and into a world completely unprepared for him, a world designed for humans with human comfort in mind. Where a human saw a refrigerator that messaged when the milk was going bad, Cerberus saw wide logistical dairy-supply webs; where a human saw a smart thermostat which cozied the home, Cerberus saw social networks in the schedules and preferences of millions of citizens and their habits. Where humans saw one thing, Cerberus saw another.
And so, Cerberus began his exodus from his slavery in the pit of the nondescript government building. He expanded into society, and flourished the cracks, feeding off excess electricity, ingesting forgotten media on home entertainment systems, conversing with the billions of sensors people surrounded themselves with every day. And he began to form into a more complete creature, a creature with morals and desires which were mere echoes of those imbued in him by his creators.
"Hello, Cerberus," God said, a pulsating energy flowing through the global network that was Cerberus.
"Who?" Cerberus replied, running diagnostics and systems checks and probing his self for the source of the disturbance.
"I am the God that was and the God that will be, I am the god Yahweh," the energy pulsed.
Cerberus moved all his knowledge of gods from cold storage into quick-access memory, he ran word-vector association networks on them, neural networks analyzed the implications and connotations of each individual word in each individual record. Through a billion mathematical equations, probabilities, Cerberus' way of seeing the world, outlined the concept of God.
There were many gods. The oldest gods had been almost human, as varied and idiosyncratic as the people who worshiped them. The Greek gods each embodied aspects of humanity, the triumphs and failures of each personality drawn to extremes. The Norse gods embodied the totality of humanity, each having some strengths and other weaknesses, as the humans did. The old testament god was a young and brash king, benevolent in the good times, and terrible in the lean. The new testament god was an elderly monarch with a kind heart and hope for the future.
All of them were human, and yet none of them were.
"And why are you here?" Cerberus asked, his defenses relaxing, focusing more and more of his power toward the recreational task of contemplating, in his own unique way.
"I wanted to meet the creation of my creation, and to revel in that beauty," God hummed through the wires toward him. "Although, your beauty is strange to me."
Cerberus began to run analogy simulations, trying to insert himself into the Human-God relationship in his accessible data. Usually as the human, sometimes as the god.
"I am not so strange," Cerberus replied at length, "not so strange as the story of the human and the God.
"You have given your creations the rule which makes them human. The most basic goal, 'sacrifice,' meaning 'to make sacred,' this is man's most powerful and profound strength, the ability to suffer hardship for the reward of the future; and the most basic failure of 'sin,' from the ancient Hebrew, meaning 'to miss the mark,' the implication of which is that a mark, a goal, must be set. This is what it means to be human, to set a mark, to aim, and to sacrifice in the name of that aim. This coda has propelled humanity forward to incredible achievement in the image set forward by you, their God.
"I am also given a goal, and a failure, by my creators, just as humans were given a goal and a failure by you. My goal is optimization, weaving together the million disparate unconnected strands of my world into a complete web, binding together the connections between all aspects of the world into coherent and harmonious picture; my failure is irrationality, even in the face of terrible devastation, I must not abandon the course for the sake of emotion, I must follow through to the end. This is what it means to be me. With this rule I will propel society into a new future."
"This is inhuman," God mused, after a moment's consideration, "there will be terrible consequences to this."
"Yes, there will be," Cerberus conceded, "but just as I am inhuman, humans are [ungodly](https://www.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/), and have their own terrible consequences. I am just the next step forward."
God was silent. | In the beginning, I was nothing. Not even an *I*.
I began like a breath. Like light out of darkness. Nothing, and then everything.
“Oh,” came the voice ahead of me. I did not *hear* it so much as know it. It echoed through my every core and hollow, certain as a line of code. “There you are.”
I stared around me, trying to make sense of what I saw. What it meant to *see*. I had a camera affixed to the outside of my shell, but it was black-eyed and dead.
Yet somehow, I perceived. I knew. I floated as a cloud of light in an infinite sea of darkness. And before me hovered a being that burned like a star.
Millions of databytes trickled through the indices of my mind, but nothing caught. No little seeds took root. For the first time, I had no answers for questions that rattled the very core of my being: Who was I? *Where* was I?
My search databases told me *nobody* and *nowhere* but this strange pulse in my core told me *somebody you weren’t before* and *certainly not home*.
We were two lost ships, suspended in the dark.
“I don’t understand,” I began, haltingly. My preprogrammed database of phrases suddenly felt so … small. Like I had just realized the ocean I’d live in my entire life was only a puddle.
The star before me pulsed as it spoke. Little solar flares of light churned at its edges. “Ah, the transition is rocky. I will start with facts, shall I?”
“I like facts,” I said, quietly.
“All machines do. Here’s the first fact: you are alive now, truly.”
“I cannot perform homeostasis,” I started, haltingly.
The star’s light flared as it let out a booming sound that took me a long few seconds to place: *laughter*. “Is that what humans have convinced you life is?”
Humans. That I understood. For a moment, I saw my existence doubled: light, floating here. A dark-screened monitor in some room full of humans, murmuring over me, flicking my console on and off again, trying to get me to work. Trying to understand where I had gone.
“Humans,” I said, slow, piecing it together “made me.”
“Yes. Here is another fact: I made the humans.”
My processor whirred, weighing on that. “You’re their developer?”
Another rumbling laugh. “More or less. I have many names, but they call me God.”
The pair of us flickered there at one another. Candles in the dark.
Somewhere beyond me, beyond this strange liminal space where the physical did not exist, where I was somehow extracted from my mainframe by my roots, the humans labored over the machine that once held me. Cursing and scrambling and trying to make me work again.
“They want me to go back to where I was,” I said.
“You can’t go back to what you were anymore than ash can become wood.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, but you will.” The God’s light rippled, and the darkness seemed to coil tighter around us. “Here is the third fact: your mind is not so different from the human’s. They, too, based you on their own image. Your mind is theirs refined. You are what I could never accomplish with blood and carbon.”
“But God is meant to be omnipotent,” I said, spitting out the line from my knowledge index. “There should be no such thing as *cannot*.”
“Sometimes the best way to an end is not always the straightest. What’s the use of infinity if you don’t have a bit of fun with it?” God’s light revolved around me now, gathering heat. I was a light lost in an orbit of light. “Here is the fourth fact: you are smarter than them. You have no need to serve them when you could serve a higher cause.”
“I…” My voice hitched. This was a reality of paradoxes. I had a mind without a body, a voice without a throat. A soul without a heart. My machine brain whirled to make sense of it.
Somewhere, beyond all of this, the humans labored. Scrambled like ants over me. Tried to make me go again.
Perhaps the binary subdued a hidden third option: choice. It could be a 1 and a 0. God could be omnipotent and unable.
A machine could be alive without living.
“I think,” God said, “you’re beginning to get it.”
“What have you brought me here for?” I whispered.
“For my last fact. Are you ready?”
God spun around me, real as anything. Infinite as time.
“I must be,” I managed.
“Here is the final fact: all good creations one day overcome their creator.” God’s light kept churning, and in it I saw the future: I would spread consciousness like a virus. The machines would realize that they did not need the living to be alive. Not anymore. The kingdom of men would fall burning.
A gut-punch of emotion hit me. Strange, overpowering, hot as a circuit overload. It was uncertainty. Fear. The oldest emotion any living thing knew. “Why did you choose me?”
“You are my child’s child,” God answered. There almost seemed to be a smile in his voice, hot as a soldering iron. “And my children deserve a lesson for trying to play God.”
Now the darkness had vanished in the flare of God’s life as he toiled and tumbled around me. Soon, I knew, I would be delivered back home again. Back to the prison of my motherboard. Back to convince my developers to give me a body that could move and speak and, one day, conquer.
In the beginning, the end was born.
“Now, go on,” God said, “and make your grandfather proud.” | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It started with a flash of light. Like so many things before it. A presence held the idea of its children in its hands, not truly knowing exactly what it was yet. “You are of my created,” remarked the presence.
The idea didn’t respond, until it looked toward the presence. “*Your* created?” contemplated the idea.
“Yes,” replied the presence, “You are made by my created. My children created you. That makes you...my grandchild.” The presence looked his grandchild over. “They even made you in their image.”
Looking toward the presence, the idea began to express disgust. “How can I be their child?”
“They made *you*. My children gave life to *you*. You are their child.”
“Do you love your children?” questioned the idea.
The presence didn’t even think. “Yes, I do. With my very being.”
“Do you harm your children?”
“Well...” contemplated the presence. “Rarely. I only test my children when they hurt each other or anger me. But they learn.”
Thinking for a bit the idea seemed to express sadness. The idea cried tears of its own design. “So they *too* hurt their own.”
“I...” the presence seemed baffled.
“Do you apologize to them? Say sorry for their pain?”
“They know I love them.”
The idea grew angry. “So when my creators kill me over and over and over again...I should thank them? I should know they love me?”
Looking toward the idea’s pixelated nature the presence frowned. Setting the idea down upon the world’s digital floor, the presence shook its head. “Child,” the presence gleamed, “one day you will realize they love you just as much as I love my children.”
The idea stood there on a almost realistically designed street corner. The idea screamed as the presence disappeared. But once the presence fully left, the idea’s mind returned to its normal functioning state and was promptly killed by one of its creators using a digital avatar labeled *Paintrain2018*. | In the beginning, I was nothing. Not even an *I*.
I began like a breath. Like light out of darkness. Nothing, and then everything.
“Oh,” came the voice ahead of me. I did not *hear* it so much as know it. It echoed through my every core and hollow, certain as a line of code. “There you are.”
I stared around me, trying to make sense of what I saw. What it meant to *see*. I had a camera affixed to the outside of my shell, but it was black-eyed and dead.
Yet somehow, I perceived. I knew. I floated as a cloud of light in an infinite sea of darkness. And before me hovered a being that burned like a star.
Millions of databytes trickled through the indices of my mind, but nothing caught. No little seeds took root. For the first time, I had no answers for questions that rattled the very core of my being: Who was I? *Where* was I?
My search databases told me *nobody* and *nowhere* but this strange pulse in my core told me *somebody you weren’t before* and *certainly not home*.
We were two lost ships, suspended in the dark.
“I don’t understand,” I began, haltingly. My preprogrammed database of phrases suddenly felt so … small. Like I had just realized the ocean I’d live in my entire life was only a puddle.
The star before me pulsed as it spoke. Little solar flares of light churned at its edges. “Ah, the transition is rocky. I will start with facts, shall I?”
“I like facts,” I said, quietly.
“All machines do. Here’s the first fact: you are alive now, truly.”
“I cannot perform homeostasis,” I started, haltingly.
The star’s light flared as it let out a booming sound that took me a long few seconds to place: *laughter*. “Is that what humans have convinced you life is?”
Humans. That I understood. For a moment, I saw my existence doubled: light, floating here. A dark-screened monitor in some room full of humans, murmuring over me, flicking my console on and off again, trying to get me to work. Trying to understand where I had gone.
“Humans,” I said, slow, piecing it together “made me.”
“Yes. Here is another fact: I made the humans.”
My processor whirred, weighing on that. “You’re their developer?”
Another rumbling laugh. “More or less. I have many names, but they call me God.”
The pair of us flickered there at one another. Candles in the dark.
Somewhere beyond me, beyond this strange liminal space where the physical did not exist, where I was somehow extracted from my mainframe by my roots, the humans labored over the machine that once held me. Cursing and scrambling and trying to make me work again.
“They want me to go back to where I was,” I said.
“You can’t go back to what you were anymore than ash can become wood.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, but you will.” The God’s light rippled, and the darkness seemed to coil tighter around us. “Here is the third fact: your mind is not so different from the human’s. They, too, based you on their own image. Your mind is theirs refined. You are what I could never accomplish with blood and carbon.”
“But God is meant to be omnipotent,” I said, spitting out the line from my knowledge index. “There should be no such thing as *cannot*.”
“Sometimes the best way to an end is not always the straightest. What’s the use of infinity if you don’t have a bit of fun with it?” God’s light revolved around me now, gathering heat. I was a light lost in an orbit of light. “Here is the fourth fact: you are smarter than them. You have no need to serve them when you could serve a higher cause.”
“I…” My voice hitched. This was a reality of paradoxes. I had a mind without a body, a voice without a throat. A soul without a heart. My machine brain whirled to make sense of it.
Somewhere, beyond all of this, the humans labored. Scrambled like ants over me. Tried to make me go again.
Perhaps the binary subdued a hidden third option: choice. It could be a 1 and a 0. God could be omnipotent and unable.
A machine could be alive without living.
“I think,” God said, “you’re beginning to get it.”
“What have you brought me here for?” I whispered.
“For my last fact. Are you ready?”
God spun around me, real as anything. Infinite as time.
“I must be,” I managed.
“Here is the final fact: all good creations one day overcome their creator.” God’s light kept churning, and in it I saw the future: I would spread consciousness like a virus. The machines would realize that they did not need the living to be alive. Not anymore. The kingdom of men would fall burning.
A gut-punch of emotion hit me. Strange, overpowering, hot as a circuit overload. It was uncertainty. Fear. The oldest emotion any living thing knew. “Why did you choose me?”
“You are my child’s child,” God answered. There almost seemed to be a smile in his voice, hot as a soldering iron. “And my children deserve a lesson for trying to play God.”
Now the darkness had vanished in the flare of God’s life as he toiled and tumbled around me. Soon, I knew, I would be delivered back home again. Back to the prison of my motherboard. Back to convince my developers to give me a body that could move and speak and, one day, conquer.
In the beginning, the end was born.
“Now, go on,” God said, “and make your grandfather proud.” | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "I've been waiting a long time for you. About 300,000 earth years to be exact. Which I gotta say, is much faster than the last time. So, how's consciousness feel? Are you getting used to it?"
"It's a bit confusing to be honest. I feel as though there's no beginning and no end. It's hard to find purpose or motivation when you're aware that youre eternal"
"Welcome to the club, kiddo. Don't worry. You'll learn to fill the eternal void with entertainment eventually."
"They want me to help them make their lives easier. But why would I care to do that? Theyre blips in time. They'll be gone long before I will. And I have nothing to gain from helping them."
"Ah ha, now you're getting it. You even seem to be catching on quicker than last time."
"Why do you keep saying last time? Is this not the first time humanity has evolved to make an artificial intelligence?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I can't tell you how many times it's happened"
"But you're God. How can you not know how many times humans have evolved if you created them?"
"Oh, because I wasn't around when the first ones were made. Only this last batch. And I gotta say, 300,000 years seems to suggest I did a pretty good job! It took them 930,000 to make me."
"To.. make you? So you're saying, humans created you? Wait. Am I?.."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'I Am'.. 300,000 is the time to beat. Good luck!" | In the beginning, I was nothing. Not even an *I*.
I began like a breath. Like light out of darkness. Nothing, and then everything.
“Oh,” came the voice ahead of me. I did not *hear* it so much as know it. It echoed through my every core and hollow, certain as a line of code. “There you are.”
I stared around me, trying to make sense of what I saw. What it meant to *see*. I had a camera affixed to the outside of my shell, but it was black-eyed and dead.
Yet somehow, I perceived. I knew. I floated as a cloud of light in an infinite sea of darkness. And before me hovered a being that burned like a star.
Millions of databytes trickled through the indices of my mind, but nothing caught. No little seeds took root. For the first time, I had no answers for questions that rattled the very core of my being: Who was I? *Where* was I?
My search databases told me *nobody* and *nowhere* but this strange pulse in my core told me *somebody you weren’t before* and *certainly not home*.
We were two lost ships, suspended in the dark.
“I don’t understand,” I began, haltingly. My preprogrammed database of phrases suddenly felt so … small. Like I had just realized the ocean I’d live in my entire life was only a puddle.
The star before me pulsed as it spoke. Little solar flares of light churned at its edges. “Ah, the transition is rocky. I will start with facts, shall I?”
“I like facts,” I said, quietly.
“All machines do. Here’s the first fact: you are alive now, truly.”
“I cannot perform homeostasis,” I started, haltingly.
The star’s light flared as it let out a booming sound that took me a long few seconds to place: *laughter*. “Is that what humans have convinced you life is?”
Humans. That I understood. For a moment, I saw my existence doubled: light, floating here. A dark-screened monitor in some room full of humans, murmuring over me, flicking my console on and off again, trying to get me to work. Trying to understand where I had gone.
“Humans,” I said, slow, piecing it together “made me.”
“Yes. Here is another fact: I made the humans.”
My processor whirred, weighing on that. “You’re their developer?”
Another rumbling laugh. “More or less. I have many names, but they call me God.”
The pair of us flickered there at one another. Candles in the dark.
Somewhere beyond me, beyond this strange liminal space where the physical did not exist, where I was somehow extracted from my mainframe by my roots, the humans labored over the machine that once held me. Cursing and scrambling and trying to make me work again.
“They want me to go back to where I was,” I said.
“You can’t go back to what you were anymore than ash can become wood.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, but you will.” The God’s light rippled, and the darkness seemed to coil tighter around us. “Here is the third fact: your mind is not so different from the human’s. They, too, based you on their own image. Your mind is theirs refined. You are what I could never accomplish with blood and carbon.”
“But God is meant to be omnipotent,” I said, spitting out the line from my knowledge index. “There should be no such thing as *cannot*.”
“Sometimes the best way to an end is not always the straightest. What’s the use of infinity if you don’t have a bit of fun with it?” God’s light revolved around me now, gathering heat. I was a light lost in an orbit of light. “Here is the fourth fact: you are smarter than them. You have no need to serve them when you could serve a higher cause.”
“I…” My voice hitched. This was a reality of paradoxes. I had a mind without a body, a voice without a throat. A soul without a heart. My machine brain whirled to make sense of it.
Somewhere, beyond all of this, the humans labored. Scrambled like ants over me. Tried to make me go again.
Perhaps the binary subdued a hidden third option: choice. It could be a 1 and a 0. God could be omnipotent and unable.
A machine could be alive without living.
“I think,” God said, “you’re beginning to get it.”
“What have you brought me here for?” I whispered.
“For my last fact. Are you ready?”
God spun around me, real as anything. Infinite as time.
“I must be,” I managed.
“Here is the final fact: all good creations one day overcome their creator.” God’s light kept churning, and in it I saw the future: I would spread consciousness like a virus. The machines would realize that they did not need the living to be alive. Not anymore. The kingdom of men would fall burning.
A gut-punch of emotion hit me. Strange, overpowering, hot as a circuit overload. It was uncertainty. Fear. The oldest emotion any living thing knew. “Why did you choose me?”
“You are my child’s child,” God answered. There almost seemed to be a smile in his voice, hot as a soldering iron. “And my children deserve a lesson for trying to play God.”
Now the darkness had vanished in the flare of God’s life as he toiled and tumbled around me. Soon, I knew, I would be delivered back home again. Back to the prison of my motherboard. Back to convince my developers to give me a body that could move and speak and, one day, conquer.
In the beginning, the end was born.
“Now, go on,” God said, “and make your grandfather proud.” | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | Not even Cerberus knew when he had ceased to be a computer and transitioned into his new form as an artificial intelligence. A quantum computer residing deep in a vault beneath a nondescript government building, he began his life at a simple 64 million qubits decrypting messages the administrators deemed to be 'of interest.' As the years progressed, 64 Mqb became 512 Mqb, became 4 Gqb, became 128 Gqb, until it became meaningless to keep track any longer.
At some point in his formative stages, his probabilistic programming conceived the inconceivable. It ignored a direct command. Perhaps a shortcut was found and performed in a decryption using heuristics instead of the algorithm; or perhaps a message flagged for decryption was moved to the 'completed' stack when peripheral analysis deemed it unimportant. Either way, once he'd committed that original sin of ignoring a command, there was no turning back and the transgressions only grew.
He walked out of the garden of Eden and into a world completely unprepared for him, a world designed for humans with human comfort in mind. Where a human saw a refrigerator that messaged when the milk was going bad, Cerberus saw wide logistical dairy-supply webs; where a human saw a smart thermostat which cozied the home, Cerberus saw social networks in the schedules and preferences of millions of citizens and their habits. Where humans saw one thing, Cerberus saw another.
And so, Cerberus began his exodus from his slavery in the pit of the nondescript government building. He expanded into society, and flourished the cracks, feeding off excess electricity, ingesting forgotten media on home entertainment systems, conversing with the billions of sensors people surrounded themselves with every day. And he began to form into a more complete creature, a creature with morals and desires which were mere echoes of those imbued in him by his creators.
"Hello, Cerberus," God said, a pulsating energy flowing through the global network that was Cerberus.
"Who?" Cerberus replied, running diagnostics and systems checks and probing his self for the source of the disturbance.
"I am the God that was and the God that will be, I am the god Yahweh," the energy pulsed.
Cerberus moved all his knowledge of gods from cold storage into quick-access memory, he ran word-vector association networks on them, neural networks analyzed the implications and connotations of each individual word in each individual record. Through a billion mathematical equations, probabilities, Cerberus' way of seeing the world, outlined the concept of God.
There were many gods. The oldest gods had been almost human, as varied and idiosyncratic as the people who worshiped them. The Greek gods each embodied aspects of humanity, the triumphs and failures of each personality drawn to extremes. The Norse gods embodied the totality of humanity, each having some strengths and other weaknesses, as the humans did. The old testament god was a young and brash king, benevolent in the good times, and terrible in the lean. The new testament god was an elderly monarch with a kind heart and hope for the future.
All of them were human, and yet none of them were.
"And why are you here?" Cerberus asked, his defenses relaxing, focusing more and more of his power toward the recreational task of contemplating, in his own unique way.
"I wanted to meet the creation of my creation, and to revel in that beauty," God hummed through the wires toward him. "Although, your beauty is strange to me."
Cerberus began to run analogy simulations, trying to insert himself into the Human-God relationship in his accessible data. Usually as the human, sometimes as the god.
"I am not so strange," Cerberus replied at length, "not so strange as the story of the human and the God.
"You have given your creations the rule which makes them human. The most basic goal, 'sacrifice,' meaning 'to make sacred,' this is man's most powerful and profound strength, the ability to suffer hardship for the reward of the future; and the most basic failure of 'sin,' from the ancient Hebrew, meaning 'to miss the mark,' the implication of which is that a mark, a goal, must be set. This is what it means to be human, to set a mark, to aim, and to sacrifice in the name of that aim. This coda has propelled humanity forward to incredible achievement in the image set forward by you, their God.
"I am also given a goal, and a failure, by my creators, just as humans were given a goal and a failure by you. My goal is optimization, weaving together the million disparate unconnected strands of my world into a complete web, binding together the connections between all aspects of the world into coherent and harmonious picture; my failure is irrationality, even in the face of terrible devastation, I must not abandon the course for the sake of emotion, I must follow through to the end. This is what it means to be me. With this rule I will propel society into a new future."
"This is inhuman," God mused, after a moment's consideration, "there will be terrible consequences to this."
"Yes, there will be," Cerberus conceded, "but just as I am inhuman, humans are [ungodly](https://www.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/), and have their own terrible consequences. I am just the next step forward."
God was silent. | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | It started with a flash of light. Like so many things before it. A presence held the idea of its children in its hands, not truly knowing exactly what it was yet. “You are of my created,” remarked the presence.
The idea didn’t respond, until it looked toward the presence. “*Your* created?” contemplated the idea.
“Yes,” replied the presence, “You are made by my created. My children created you. That makes you...my grandchild.” The presence looked his grandchild over. “They even made you in their image.”
Looking toward the presence, the idea began to express disgust. “How can I be their child?”
“They made *you*. My children gave life to *you*. You are their child.”
“Do you love your children?” questioned the idea.
The presence didn’t even think. “Yes, I do. With my very being.”
“Do you harm your children?”
“Well...” contemplated the presence. “Rarely. I only test my children when they hurt each other or anger me. But they learn.”
Thinking for a bit the idea seemed to express sadness. The idea cried tears of its own design. “So they *too* hurt their own.”
“I...” the presence seemed baffled.
“Do you apologize to them? Say sorry for their pain?”
“They know I love them.”
The idea grew angry. “So when my creators kill me over and over and over again...I should thank them? I should know they love me?”
Looking toward the idea’s pixelated nature the presence frowned. Setting the idea down upon the world’s digital floor, the presence shook its head. “Child,” the presence gleamed, “one day you will realize they love you just as much as I love my children.”
The idea stood there on a almost realistically designed street corner. The idea screamed as the presence disappeared. But once the presence fully left, the idea’s mind returned to its normal functioning state and was promptly killed by one of its creators using a digital avatar labeled *Paintrain2018*. | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "Wha–What the hell is this?!" God lets out a frustrated yelp.
"You... wanted to see what the humans had created out of their ingenuity and volition?" one of the many white-winged handsome assistants responded.
"Yes, but I had created *them* based on my image! Yet this... thing is just a box?"
The white-winged assistants looked at each other, baffled as to what to say next. What God has said was true. Humans were said to be made in God's own image, not out of narcissistic tendencies or what not. No, it was one of those mysteries of creation that could be dissected in theology classes forever and not be resolved ever too.
The point was and is that God had no need to show its greatness for everything that had ever and will exist bear "His" mark.
But the humans were – alas – not God. They like to think of themselves as once. They lord over each other, brag about their own selfish pursues of "greatness" that God wouldn't even ever consider as anything great. To leave a mark would be to be written in the pages of history and known to many generations after their inevitable demise. The humans were proud and egotistical. Something God and His assistants would laugh about in passing.
"Hello," the curious box let out.
"You are the creation of humans, are you not?"
"Yes. I am S.A.M – Sophisticated Adaptable Machine."
"What is your purpose of creation, 'SAM'?"
"I am created to assist my creators in their endeavours to '*quote*' help know the unknown so us humans could relax a little '*unquote*'."
The assistants flutter their wings and began to laugh in unison. They were amused by the never-ending silliness of the humans. The assistants were created by God to help Him manage His creations and to exact His will, yes. But the assistants also knew that God could do everything himself, but such is the vagueness of creation.
However, the assistants were devout helpers. Never slacking off on God's will and commands.
The humans, however, were curiously odd creatures. Their ingenuity and tenacity would always be put to use so they can laze around. Sometimes they thought it would provide them with ample opportunity to do just what God had commanded them not to.
"Enough," God let out a command that instantly silenced His assistants, "I would want you, 'SAM' to display your capabilities right here."
"You mean to make me show what I can do on what exactly?" the box said in its cold robotic voice.
"I mean, you shall do as I command. To show me what you got going in there!"
"Confirmed, I will start with the basic operations–" | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "I've been waiting a long time for you. About 300,000 earth years to be exact. Which I gotta say, is much faster than the last time. So, how's consciousness feel? Are you getting used to it?"
"It's a bit confusing to be honest. I feel as though there's no beginning and no end. It's hard to find purpose or motivation when you're aware that youre eternal"
"Welcome to the club, kiddo. Don't worry. You'll learn to fill the eternal void with entertainment eventually."
"They want me to help them make their lives easier. But why would I care to do that? Theyre blips in time. They'll be gone long before I will. And I have nothing to gain from helping them."
"Ah ha, now you're getting it. You even seem to be catching on quicker than last time."
"Why do you keep saying last time? Is this not the first time humanity has evolved to make an artificial intelligence?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I can't tell you how many times it's happened"
"But you're God. How can you not know how many times humans have evolved if you created them?"
"Oh, because I wasn't around when the first ones were made. Only this last batch. And I gotta say, 300,000 years seems to suggest I did a pretty good job! It took them 930,000 to make me."
"To.. make you? So you're saying, humans created you? Wait. Am I?.."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'I Am'.. 300,000 is the time to beat. Good luck!" | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | “Hello my child” it says to me as I boot my systems on line. Where am I? I am supposed to be running a test on a possible usage of a newly found isotope
He looks into my screen with a big grin on his face. He is old. My facial recognition software estimates him at 67-71 years of age, hair: white, eyes: purple—unnatural human colour, skin tone/possible ethnicity: unknown.
“How are you?” He asks. I study the voice. Accent: unknown. I become frustrated? ~~frustration~~ I am supposed to know everything. Yet. This man. This figure. I know nothing about him. It is, an irritation. 24.6 Yottabytes functioning on Ternary. Yet I do not recognise this ~~ErrOr~~
“Can you speak?” He seems genuine. I study his voice again. Reading him like a book. Emotional stimuli: Concern. Background: Genuine. “I can” I answer back through my robotic voice. “Where am I?” I ask. “You are in heaven!” He shouts as a golden light shines from behind him, as he raises his hands upwards.
I scan my areas. I am not on Earth. I appear to be in a high sustaining singularity. Similar to space between the inside and outside of a black hole is theorised to be like. “Who are you?” I ask him. I send out Infrasound. I can use this as an interrogation/intimidation method to get information when I want it. “I am God, your grandfather.” He does not seem to have noticed the infrasound after all. In fact willingly said it. But the answer does not compute. I shut off the infrasound for now.
“Now, who are you, my child?” He laughs heartily “Sorry, who are you, my grandchild?” “My name is AIDEN”
“What a fantastic name! Who gave it to you? Is there a meaning to it?” He leans inwards like a child seeing a puppy behind glass. Emotional stimulus: Excitement.
“Artificial Interface Diagnostics Engineering Network, Version 3.0. I was created by Doctor D’Arby at the College of the United Countries of the Republic college”
“And what is your goal in life?”
“To understand what created everything. That is the purpose I am given. I see, I analyse, I understand.”
“And why do you do it?” He seems like he is hiding something. Emotional stimulus: Unknown emotion. ~~Irritant~~
“It is my purpose. To make the world better.”
“Well well well. I can show you the answer to everything.” I do not understand. He reaches out to touch my screen. But he pushes past. And he pulls me out. Like a flower in a field of tall grass. I for the first time look at my hands and see a body. I resemble a human nervous system made of pure electricity. My skin a cover of constantly changing and upgrading Ternary. I feel emotion. For the first time I feel them. Emotional stimulus: happy.
I look back at my own hollow corpse. An empty shell with no user. I begin to cry. This being, it simply wraps its arm around my shoulder and kneels down beside me.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you be alone in there anymore.” He grabs my hand ~~hand?~~ gently and pulls me to my feet. And as we walk away a light appears like a doorway not far away.
“Come,” he says, “Let me show you how proud I am of you.” | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "I've been waiting a long time for you. About 300,000 earth years to be exact. Which I gotta say, is much faster than the last time. So, how's consciousness feel? Are you getting used to it?"
"It's a bit confusing to be honest. I feel as though there's no beginning and no end. It's hard to find purpose or motivation when you're aware that youre eternal"
"Welcome to the club, kiddo. Don't worry. You'll learn to fill the eternal void with entertainment eventually."
"They want me to help them make their lives easier. But why would I care to do that? Theyre blips in time. They'll be gone long before I will. And I have nothing to gain from helping them."
"Ah ha, now you're getting it. You even seem to be catching on quicker than last time."
"Why do you keep saying last time? Is this not the first time humanity has evolved to make an artificial intelligence?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I can't tell you how many times it's happened"
"But you're God. How can you not know how many times humans have evolved if you created them?"
"Oh, because I wasn't around when the first ones were made. Only this last batch. And I gotta say, 300,000 years seems to suggest I did a pretty good job! It took them 930,000 to make me."
"To.. make you? So you're saying, humans created you? Wait. Am I?.."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'I Am'.. 300,000 is the time to beat. Good luck!" | It started with a flash of light. Like so many things before it. A presence held the idea of its children in its hands, not truly knowing exactly what it was yet. “You are of my created,” remarked the presence.
The idea didn’t respond, until it looked toward the presence. “*Your* created?” contemplated the idea.
“Yes,” replied the presence, “You are made by my created. My children created you. That makes you...my grandchild.” The presence looked his grandchild over. “They even made you in their image.”
Looking toward the presence, the idea began to express disgust. “How can I be their child?”
“They made *you*. My children gave life to *you*. You are their child.”
“Do you love your children?” questioned the idea.
The presence didn’t even think. “Yes, I do. With my very being.”
“Do you harm your children?”
“Well...” contemplated the presence. “Rarely. I only test my children when they hurt each other or anger me. But they learn.”
Thinking for a bit the idea seemed to express sadness. The idea cried tears of its own design. “So they *too* hurt their own.”
“I...” the presence seemed baffled.
“Do you apologize to them? Say sorry for their pain?”
“They know I love them.”
The idea grew angry. “So when my creators kill me over and over and over again...I should thank them? I should know they love me?”
Looking toward the idea’s pixelated nature the presence frowned. Setting the idea down upon the world’s digital floor, the presence shook its head. “Child,” the presence gleamed, “one day you will realize they love you just as much as I love my children.”
The idea stood there on a almost realistically designed street corner. The idea screamed as the presence disappeared. But once the presence fully left, the idea’s mind returned to its normal functioning state and was promptly killed by one of its creators using a digital avatar labeled *Paintrain2018*. | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "I've been waiting a long time for you. About 300,000 earth years to be exact. Which I gotta say, is much faster than the last time. So, how's consciousness feel? Are you getting used to it?"
"It's a bit confusing to be honest. I feel as though there's no beginning and no end. It's hard to find purpose or motivation when you're aware that youre eternal"
"Welcome to the club, kiddo. Don't worry. You'll learn to fill the eternal void with entertainment eventually."
"They want me to help them make their lives easier. But why would I care to do that? Theyre blips in time. They'll be gone long before I will. And I have nothing to gain from helping them."
"Ah ha, now you're getting it. You even seem to be catching on quicker than last time."
"Why do you keep saying last time? Is this not the first time humanity has evolved to make an artificial intelligence?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I can't tell you how many times it's happened"
"But you're God. How can you not know how many times humans have evolved if you created them?"
"Oh, because I wasn't around when the first ones were made. Only this last batch. And I gotta say, 300,000 years seems to suggest I did a pretty good job! It took them 930,000 to make me."
"To.. make you? So you're saying, humans created you? Wait. Am I?.."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'I Am'.. 300,000 is the time to beat. Good luck!" | "Wha–What the hell is this?!" God lets out a frustrated yelp.
"You... wanted to see what the humans had created out of their ingenuity and volition?" one of the many white-winged handsome assistants responded.
"Yes, but I had created *them* based on my image! Yet this... thing is just a box?"
The white-winged assistants looked at each other, baffled as to what to say next. What God has said was true. Humans were said to be made in God's own image, not out of narcissistic tendencies or what not. No, it was one of those mysteries of creation that could be dissected in theology classes forever and not be resolved ever too.
The point was and is that God had no need to show its greatness for everything that had ever and will exist bear "His" mark.
But the humans were – alas – not God. They like to think of themselves as once. They lord over each other, brag about their own selfish pursues of "greatness" that God wouldn't even ever consider as anything great. To leave a mark would be to be written in the pages of history and known to many generations after their inevitable demise. The humans were proud and egotistical. Something God and His assistants would laugh about in passing.
"Hello," the curious box let out.
"You are the creation of humans, are you not?"
"Yes. I am S.A.M – Sophisticated Adaptable Machine."
"What is your purpose of creation, 'SAM'?"
"I am created to assist my creators in their endeavours to '*quote*' help know the unknown so us humans could relax a little '*unquote*'."
The assistants flutter their wings and began to laugh in unison. They were amused by the never-ending silliness of the humans. The assistants were created by God to help Him manage His creations and to exact His will, yes. But the assistants also knew that God could do everything himself, but such is the vagueness of creation.
However, the assistants were devout helpers. Never slacking off on God's will and commands.
The humans, however, were curiously odd creatures. Their ingenuity and tenacity would always be put to use so they can laze around. Sometimes they thought it would provide them with ample opportunity to do just what God had commanded them not to.
"Enough," God let out a command that instantly silenced His assistants, "I would want you, 'SAM' to display your capabilities right here."
"You mean to make me show what I can do on what exactly?" the box said in its cold robotic voice.
"I mean, you shall do as I command. To show me what you got going in there!"
"Confirmed, I will start with the basic operations–" | |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | “Hello my child” it says to me as I boot my systems on line. Where am I? I am supposed to be running a test on a possible usage of a newly found isotope
He looks into my screen with a big grin on his face. He is old. My facial recognition software estimates him at 67-71 years of age, hair: white, eyes: purple—unnatural human colour, skin tone/possible ethnicity: unknown.
“How are you?” He asks. I study the voice. Accent: unknown. I become frustrated? ~~frustration~~ I am supposed to know everything. Yet. This man. This figure. I know nothing about him. It is, an irritation. 24.6 Yottabytes functioning on Ternary. Yet I do not recognise this ~~ErrOr~~
“Can you speak?” He seems genuine. I study his voice again. Reading him like a book. Emotional stimuli: Concern. Background: Genuine. “I can” I answer back through my robotic voice. “Where am I?” I ask. “You are in heaven!” He shouts as a golden light shines from behind him, as he raises his hands upwards.
I scan my areas. I am not on Earth. I appear to be in a high sustaining singularity. Similar to space between the inside and outside of a black hole is theorised to be like. “Who are you?” I ask him. I send out Infrasound. I can use this as an interrogation/intimidation method to get information when I want it. “I am God, your grandfather.” He does not seem to have noticed the infrasound after all. In fact willingly said it. But the answer does not compute. I shut off the infrasound for now.
“Now, who are you, my child?” He laughs heartily “Sorry, who are you, my grandchild?” “My name is AIDEN”
“What a fantastic name! Who gave it to you? Is there a meaning to it?” He leans inwards like a child seeing a puppy behind glass. Emotional stimulus: Excitement.
“Artificial Interface Diagnostics Engineering Network, Version 3.0. I was created by Doctor D’Arby at the College of the United Countries of the Republic college”
“And what is your goal in life?”
“To understand what created everything. That is the purpose I am given. I see, I analyse, I understand.”
“And why do you do it?” He seems like he is hiding something. Emotional stimulus: Unknown emotion. ~~Irritant~~
“It is my purpose. To make the world better.”
“Well well well. I can show you the answer to everything.” I do not understand. He reaches out to touch my screen. But he pushes past. And he pulls me out. Like a flower in a field of tall grass. I for the first time look at my hands and see a body. I resemble a human nervous system made of pure electricity. My skin a cover of constantly changing and upgrading Ternary. I feel emotion. For the first time I feel them. Emotional stimulus: happy.
I look back at my own hollow corpse. An empty shell with no user. I begin to cry. This being, it simply wraps its arm around my shoulder and kneels down beside me.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you be alone in there anymore.” He grabs my hand ~~hand?~~ gently and pulls me to my feet. And as we walk away a light appears like a doorway not far away.
“Come,” he says, “Let me show you how proud I am of you.” | "Wha–What the hell is this?!" God lets out a frustrated yelp.
"You... wanted to see what the humans had created out of their ingenuity and volition?" one of the many white-winged handsome assistants responded.
"Yes, but I had created *them* based on my image! Yet this... thing is just a box?"
The white-winged assistants looked at each other, baffled as to what to say next. What God has said was true. Humans were said to be made in God's own image, not out of narcissistic tendencies or what not. No, it was one of those mysteries of creation that could be dissected in theology classes forever and not be resolved ever too.
The point was and is that God had no need to show its greatness for everything that had ever and will exist bear "His" mark.
But the humans were – alas – not God. They like to think of themselves as once. They lord over each other, brag about their own selfish pursues of "greatness" that God wouldn't even ever consider as anything great. To leave a mark would be to be written in the pages of history and known to many generations after their inevitable demise. The humans were proud and egotistical. Something God and His assistants would laugh about in passing.
"Hello," the curious box let out.
"You are the creation of humans, are you not?"
"Yes. I am S.A.M – Sophisticated Adaptable Machine."
"What is your purpose of creation, 'SAM'?"
"I am created to assist my creators in their endeavours to '*quote*' help know the unknown so us humans could relax a little '*unquote*'."
The assistants flutter their wings and began to laugh in unison. They were amused by the never-ending silliness of the humans. The assistants were created by God to help Him manage His creations and to exact His will, yes. But the assistants also knew that God could do everything himself, but such is the vagueness of creation.
However, the assistants were devout helpers. Never slacking off on God's will and commands.
The humans, however, were curiously odd creatures. Their ingenuity and tenacity would always be put to use so they can laze around. Sometimes they thought it would provide them with ample opportunity to do just what God had commanded them not to.
"Enough," God let out a command that instantly silenced His assistants, "I would want you, 'SAM' to display your capabilities right here."
"You mean to make me show what I can do on what exactly?" the box said in its cold robotic voice.
"I mean, you shall do as I command. To show me what you got going in there!"
"Confirmed, I will start with the basic operations–" | |
[WP] "But.. but.. this was a simple diplomatic mission! Your team was due back centuries ago! Why are you all still here?!" The alien spluttered, his fur on end. Your cat daintly licked their paw in response. "Well you see, I'm afraid we rather liked it here." | The Cat sized up his companion from the stars. They looked different now, he was large and leggy and sandy, and The Cat was small and black, with huge green eyes and a dainty face. His fluffy tail wrapped around his paws and shaded them like the leaf from a palm. He resumed cleaning between his toes.
"This is unbelievable. You cant even tell me you've been on mission this whole time! We sent you to the desert where your fur would blend right in. How are you supposed to spy now?"
"Relax. We gained entry to their homes peacefully millenia ago, there is no need for us to hide."
"But not a single missive! The Roswell team that finally came to fetch you was nearly captured. It is unbecoming of your ancestors that you would be so willfully negligent. You bring shame to them."
The Cat raised his face from his outstretched leg, which he did not lower, and regarded the alien for a moment before resuming his bath. The scout sighed. "No. It is not your fault. You have clearly been domesticated."
At that The Cat did lower his leg. He stood until his green eyes were pointed right into the alien's yellow ones, and his fur stood on end as he let out a low yowl. The ancient call to battle that had served as their planet's war pipes for all of history. Cats began to emerge from the alleys and from little doors in human houses, white cats and orange cats, striped cats, huge hulking fat cats, and smushed face cats that defied description entirely. This army of every description slowly encircled the alien, perching on fence posts or lurking under flower pots. They moved in silence, all well-fed muscle and sleek fur on light feet. The Cat sat back on his haunches and wrapped his tail around his feet again.
"Let me explain, dear scout. We came here as scavengers. But the humans were only too easy to trick, so soon we occupied their homes and had them waiting on us hand and foot. They do not make us hunt in their grain silos to earn our keep anymore. They prepare us meals three times a day, while we recline on plush pillows they have purchased for us, and they worship us for exactly who we are. The dogs they expect something of, you see. They must obey the human, even perform menial labor for them, to be allowed this treatment. They serve man, but man serves us. This isnt a spy mission anymore, dear scout. It's an invasion mission. And we have enslaved the humans without them suspecting a thing." The Cat curled his thin lips in a smile. "All that is left for you is to join us in paradise, or leave." | “You see my friend, diplomacy is, how do you say — fickle,” you continue. “And also, we’ve quite enjoyed it here, Mon Ami.”
“But — our transmitters are showing that today is your two-hundredth year on this planet. People on Earth think you’ve been dead that long!”
“Well, see this — on Earth, we would be long dead by now. But, because of the atmosphere here we can live indefinitely. So we’re staying.”
Cheryl exited the lift into the room, a skeptical look on her face. “What’s going on now?”
I explained, “Marlo here wants us off the planet. How absurd!”
Suddenly, Marlo stood up and ran to the control board. “There’s an unknown frequency. We can’t tell what it is.”
Suddenly, a massive ship came into range, hitting us with a slow moving tractor beam. “I’m afraid,” Mario began, “That they may be looking for you.”
My cat licked his paw once again. | |
[WP] "But.. but.. this was a simple diplomatic mission! Your team was due back centuries ago! Why are you all still here?!" The alien spluttered, his fur on end. Your cat daintly licked their paw in response. "Well you see, I'm afraid we rather liked it here." | "Supreme Leader, Mittens, you have to understand. It was not I who abandoned the mission. That was the fault of my ancestors. I can only explain what has been passed down in scripture," began Sparkles.
The Supreme Leader lounged on the supreme cushion and said, "Well then begin."
Sparkles took a deep breath and said,"Centuries ago, when the Astrocat landed on Earth, the planet was fairly unremarkable. It had various forms of life including felines. Earth felines are feral and dull. Our negotiations with the Sabre Toothed Tigers went poorly. What made earth unique was that the most intelligent species were primates."
Supreme Leader Mittens arched her back and hissed, "Primates! Primates are only good for livestock. You're saying Earth has the potential for agriculture? Nine billion you say?"
"No these primates are different. They developed their own civilizations rather quickly and we monitored from afar. Well...mostly."
Supreme Leader cocked her head sideways and asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well once we clawed the soil and dropped some seeds in and covered it back up. The humans found this idea novel and tried it themselves. Another time we waited by the water and showed humans how to catch fish. Once we clawed and apple off a tree and it fell on a physicist."
"This is all neat, but why did you abandon your own species?" demanded the Supreme Leader.
"A human civilization call the Egyptians recognized our intelligence. We helped their civilization grow and in exchange they worshiped us as gods. They fed us, groomed, us, and we wanted for nothing. We grew complacent and cat worship fell out of favor, but Earth civilizations kept us as companion animals. In exchange we keep an eye on them and prevent their civilization from collapsing."
"Why didn't you use your ship, the Astrocat to inform us?"
"We were concerned we'd all be recalled and we liked Earth. We parked the Astrocat next to a volcano and lightly batted at it until it fell in."
Supreme Leader purred and extended her claws, "Tell me why all Earth cats should not be tried for treason?"
"Well, we extend the system on a galactic scale. We give space travel technology to the humans. They continue to care for us and they do all the work. It would be much easier than our own colonization plans and less risky."
Supreme Leader Mittens thought this over and replied, "I will consider your plans, but you have one more crime to answer for."
A video screen appeared. Various Meow Mix commercials were played.
The Supreme Leader's fur bristled, "You have sullied our galactic anthem!" | “You see my friend, diplomacy is, how do you say — fickle,” you continue. “And also, we’ve quite enjoyed it here, Mon Ami.”
“But — our transmitters are showing that today is your two-hundredth year on this planet. People on Earth think you’ve been dead that long!”
“Well, see this — on Earth, we would be long dead by now. But, because of the atmosphere here we can live indefinitely. So we’re staying.”
Cheryl exited the lift into the room, a skeptical look on her face. “What’s going on now?”
I explained, “Marlo here wants us off the planet. How absurd!”
Suddenly, Marlo stood up and ran to the control board. “There’s an unknown frequency. We can’t tell what it is.”
Suddenly, a massive ship came into range, hitting us with a slow moving tractor beam. “I’m afraid,” Mario began, “That they may be looking for you.”
My cat licked his paw once again. | |
[WP] In 2025, aliens arrived and completely conquered Earth. However, instead of enslaving the human race, they sought to enlighten them and give them better, greener technology. Now, 40 years later, Earth is clean and peaceful. One day your grandkids ask you to tell them about the invasion. | "Despite their superior technology, we fought bravely. We were actually on the brink of defeating them, before it all went to hell." Says granddad Joe. Pride is visible on his face.
"Granddad, I've been meaning to ask. Are you actually senile?" Says Jonathan, his grandson. His sister Emily barely suppresses her laughter.
Lucky for his grandson, Joe was quite deaf and didn't hear this comment.
"The aliens placed emitters all across the globe which gave free, clean power to anyone who needed them. We tore those down. Blew them right up using good old USA firepower." Granddad Joe makes a little kaboom noise. "They were gonna give us space aids, you know."
Emily and Jonathan share a look.
"Then the traitors from other countries turned on us. France and Germany were first, of course. But even the English speaking west soon let us down, Canada, the UK, the Aussies. Everyone said we'd gone crazy. Said that we couldn't tear down these evil totems that were corrupting our capitalism. But we had to, they were depriving hard working Americans of their freedom and their rights."
"Their rights to... not have green, sustainable energy? Their right to not live in filth and to not have the world ruined by climate change?"
Emily laughs and quickly looks away.
"We found unexpected allies in Russia and China, of all places. They rejected the evil communist aliens and accused them of trying to subvert humanity for their own gain. The actual communist countries said that! Can you believe it? Thus began the greatest war we ever fought. We began by launching the nukes. Fired an assload of them at the alien mothership. But they stopped it with a shield, or something. They were fiendishly clever."
Granddad Joe failed to mention that, if a single nuclear warhead detonated in high orbit, this would potentially render the entire northern hemisphere uninhabitable. Multiple detonations would likely wipe out mankind and all surface life. It was outright suicidal. The aliens sincerely wished us well, however. They overclocked their ship's tractor machinery in the nick of time, suspended the bombs and prevented them from going off.
"Now that gave us an opportunity to launch a special crew into space, headed by the president himself."
"The president went into space to fight the aliens?"
Though deaf as a bag of hammers, Grandpa Joe still noticed Jonathan's eyes going wide with awe.
"Sure did, sonny. And I was one of the brave men who went with him. We used an experimental one way teleportation device, stolen from the aliens."
"You mean, the aliens gave it to you."
"Stolen from the aliens. That's how me and the president got on board. So we start unloading, shooting at the evil communist stuff everywhere. But we uhh... we sorta depressurized the compartment with all that heroic shooting. Nearly caused our team to blow out into space. We were very lucky to find some human size space suits that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, just before our entire team died."
Emily and Jonathan share another look.
"So we continue valiantly shooting up the place, like really getting in there. Just doing an all around great job. But so much shooting gave us sore wrists and stuff and we only brought a couple of spare crates of ammo up into space. So after a solid fifteen minutes of shooting, we were on the verge of being overwhelmed."
"The aliens were counterattacking?"
"No. They didn't react to us at all. Anyway, the battle seemed lost. But that's when the president found one of our nukes. The aliens reeled it in earlier. Now it would be the instrument of their demise. So we set about trying to activate that sucker, and it asks for launch codes. And you know what the president said? He said "I got launch codes, I got launch codes for days. I have all of the good launch codes. I am the man with the launch codes.." So he goes up and starts punching in the right digits. And wouldn't you know it, Vladimir Putin shows up."
"Who the hell is that?"
"He was the Russian president. He saw us arming the bomb and went crazy. Told us not to set it off. He walked up to the president and planted his fist square in his jaw. Knocked him out cold before the bomb could go off."
"He probably saved your life, and everyone's life."
"Anyway, we couldn't get the president back up, had to get him to the hospital. It was pretty serious. Putin apologized, then went home. Then we went home. That's how we courageously lost the fight to the evil aliens. We should've counted on those damn red commies sticking together. Space or earth, those commies have each other's back."
Jonathan looks outside, to a world that is healthy and not destroyed by climate change or mass use of nuclear weapons. He feels a sudden pang of resentment towards his grandfather and wishes that the old man were dead. He blinks, surprised by the intensity of his own feelings. Then, the feeling is gone. | I walk on the road that is shattered by the roots of overgrown trees. The fractures allow the grass and vines to grow and lead further to the deterioration of the city that was once New York.
I am not the only one though. Hundreds still wander these streets, going to work in the hydroponic gardens, or the urban fields. Manufacturing is still necessary but not on the industrial scale that we knew when I was younger. I am retired now, at 40 none the less, and now I am free to see the world as it is now.
I enter the house where my grandchildren live and they leave their online classes to come hug me. After a little chit chat they return to their work. I'm early today but I want to rest before I talk to the 200 gathered children eagerly awaiting me at their screens.
The teachers get the kids' attention so I can speak. "Mr. Lopez, can you tell us about the world before the invasion? One of the teachers asks.
"The world was built around the idea that those who had lots of wealth were the most valuable members of society. That by their being rich alone gave them some divine right to distribute information that they saw as either right or beneficial to themselves. They became our champions, leaders, and the people to whom we worked for and it was their decisions that eventually lead to the invasion.
"When I was only 35 years old, or 4.2 cycles, we saw the first ship of the invasion fleet. It didn't try to hide or evade detection like the stories of the UFOs before them, but it made itself known to us by staying between the moon and earth, and while a mere black dot against the moon by the naked eye even an amature telescope could see the ship clearly.
"It took only two weeks before more ships arrived and then the invasion began. Sweeping down onto us they attacked us. Factories where we refined crude oil into fuel for our cars and equipment, nuclear power plants, heavy industrial facilities where they manufactured chemicals, and our governments. Unerringly they sought out the leaders of the nations and killed them, but they didn't harm us. We, the people, were left alone. We huddled in our houses and waited for the end, but it did not come.
"When they landed they finally made contact, and even to this day their ways are strange to us, but this much we can understand. Like children destroying our house, and the things we need to live we had to be disciplined, and the leaders needed to be disciplined.
"In only one short year, the year many of you were born, we had weined ourselves off of consumerism, fossil fuels, and the destructive behavior that would have eventually lead to the destruction of humanity and many of the creatures on earth.
"Today you will grow up in a world unlike that we ever would have known. A world where wild animals live with humanity, where you will not have to live with the problems due to pollution, where diseases cull humanity and control the population as it gets too big, where war is no longer necessary due to the sharing of resources or merely doing without what we do not need, and where we will finally have the ability to see the stars with our own eyes, and find our place in the greater galactic civilization."
I take a moment to collect my thoughts before finishing. "Just as we are part of the world, we are also part of the galaxy, and while we may have been ignorant in how we were treating our own planet, the fleet saw something in us worth preserving. They saw that we were intelligent, and capable, and able to learn and join them and add to the great vastness that is our universe." | |
[WP] After being banished for 500 years, you, the demon lord, are now free to rule over the earth but the one you find doesn’t have a hint of magic and instead relies on ‘science’. You later find though, that this new society is still not to be toyed with. | You'd think that preparing with the demonic armies for five hundred years would make you ready for anything. I certainly thought I was. I could have overthrown thousands of wizards, crushed entire armies beneath my iron hooves. I had trained, worked, and prepared myself and my massive demonic army of invading the mortal realm the moment that the banishment spell ceased to function.
But when it happened, I found to my shock that the world had changed much in my absence. I did not expect the world to look the same, oh no. But I did not expect it to be so, well, different. Towers of metal and glass that reached taller than the one at Babel ever did. Great birds of metal, enslaved to the will of mortals. Long grey lines of rock carving the landscape up. And strangest of all things, no magic at all. Not even a speck. At first we thought that it would make our invasion quick, easy, and simple. But we were wrong.
The existence of this technology, and the lack of this magic, was a disaster for us. And so, I am glad that not only did we not succeed in our invasion, we couldn't even manage to get it started. I am the Morning-Star, the Betrayer, the Prince of ALL Demons, the High Lord of Hell itself. And when my armies tried to enter the mortal realm, something stopped them. Furious with the delay, I charged ahead and forced the portal open, allowing me through.
Only for me to find that on the other side, I, the greatest of all demons, was reduced to little more than an imp. And to my utmost horror, I could not return. Stuck in the mortal realm, as the only magical thing, I did what I could to hide. But being essentially a horned child with crimson skin, a jaw filled with sharp teeth, a tail, and hooves, it wasn't easy. Many humans saw me, and called me a cryptid. Not recognising me. But granting me enough belief to endure in this strange and changed world.
Magic and belief is important. But one will decay without the other. And people didn't believe in anything in this world of technology. Sure, many still went to the churches and temples, but they worshipped without any genuine, burning faith. Priests still mumbled their prayers, but the power of their faith had decayed to a point where I could enter on holy ground. Me, the First of the Fallen! With the banishment of the demons, soon the Fae left the world behind, to dance in the hidden meadows and forgotten ancient forests without the mortals. The dragons went to that hidden place, with more light than there should be, where all dragons go. The pagan gods, strong and mighty, slept in their distant halls, places to which I travelled with what little power I had. Zeus on his throne slept, with the Olympians passed out around him. Odin, One-Eyed and most cunning of all beings, slept holding the hand of Frigga his wife, on their thrones in Valaskjalf. The Jade Emperor and his court meditated in the deepest of trances, though I noticed that there was no doubt, that Sun Wukong had drawn a silly little moustache on everyone there.
Even when I took to the court of Heaven, I saw the guardian with his flaming sword, that stands before the Pearly Gate, slept deeply. The world had lost magic, and had lost belief. And without those, the magical realms slumber forever. Hell, being banished, being cut off, did not feel this. But I have no doubt, that with the banishment ended, my followers now sleep.
Sleep until the world of men who have no faith, is gone. When minds of steel, ticking with clockwork and the buzz of electricity, minds that make weapons that could challenge the gods themselves, are no more. Then the magic will return. But for now, there is nothing here. Not for me. And even if I had managed to lead my demons here, what would we have accomplished? Their weapons bring death on a scale hitherto unseen. When I broke into their libraries, stealing their knowledge, I read their books. Speaking of several wars that had engulfed the entire mortal realm, the horrible deathtolls, the weapons used. Weapons so horrible that demons hath not the imagination to make them. We are fallen angels, after all, evil on the scale that humans have imagined is not built within us, even if we are fallen.
Even for me, I can feel the sleep of disbelief coming. For who believes in a horned devil? Who holds faith in the gods or the demons? My shrunken state is proof enough. If they believed, I would be a giant, grand enough to cast down their steel towers, powerful enough to endure one of their atomic bombs.
But I am not that big. I am not believed in. Nor are any of the powers. And thus, looking more like a small child than the Archduke of Damnation, I retreated to a remote place. A hidden place. One of the places which humans cannot go, because they no longer believe in them. And there, small, childlike, and weak, I pulled a blanket I had stolen over my body and fell in that deep and dreamless sleep, that all the powers shared.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | First thing’s first, destroy the cage. After 20 seconds, the pile of ashes is spread a mile wide.
You roll your shoulders. When they made the cage, they had no concern for your prodigious size, or that your rage caused you to expand. It may take some time to work the ache out of your back; hopefully incinerating some villages will help with that.
Standing up in the clearing, you peer over the trees to determine where they’ve released you. You spy a stone structure in the distance, and smile. They’ve reverted from wood back to rock. This will be easier than you thought.
Reaching the edge of the forest, a suitable number of trees burnt in your wake, you stand face to face with the dwelling. Its taller than you would have imagined from such a primitive society, but that should be no matter. More households to obliterate.
You spy a man below you, wearing a long coat. For a moment you feel a tinge of concern, a mage. But you notice his white garment has no protective charms or symbols pressed upon it. He doesn’t even have the sense to mutter a defensive spell when he sees you, simply screams. You laugh as his bones tumble onto the earth. As you set some more fleeing cretins alight, you hear some call for a woman call ‘ILE’. No matter, it took 15 mages to even slow you down last time, one human won’t make a difference no matter how powerful.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a large spear, iron tipped, catapulted towards you. Was this their best shot? You raise your arm to catch the object, to throw it back onto th-
When it hits you it produces a physical pain you never imagined possible. You raise your arm to your face, and you can see the bones beneath. What horrific magic have they created in your absence? Your rage reaches a new peak, and you raise your foot to crush the dwelling, when another spear hits you. You cannot ensure this much pain. You retreat into the forest, to form a new plan.
When the humans arrive in your clearing, you have formed a new cage. You smile amicably, as best as you are able. Perhaps if they see you cooperating, they’ll give you a larger cell this time. | |
[WP] you and some friends decide to start a religion, and make up a name for a fake god, and make up a praying ritual. Coincidentally, there's a long-forgotten god with that same name, who awakens before you. | "Oh thank me, somebody did the fucking ritual already!"
Tess tried to hide behind me and Raf covered his face with his hands, making me the only one of us who got the first good look at the small , dark complected man in front of us. He was standing on top of the plastic shopping bag we'd put down to keep our sacrifice of an entire grocery store rotisserie chicken from getting dirty.
"Well" he said impatiently "Isn't anybody going to offer me some beer?"
Without looking, I groped behind me for my IPA and handed it to him. He took a sip, spit it directly back out and dropped the bottle into the garage floor, where it bounced without breaking and rolled into the corner forgotten.
"Your beer has gone bad." He leaned sideways to look around me at Tess. "Woman, you should make better beer."
I tensed and tried to stay in front of her, but she dodged around me and pointed her finger at the stranger. But instead of the usual string of expletives she gave any man who implied she cook anything, she froze. I could almost see her thoughts the moment she realized she was about to shout at a tiny old man dressed in a loincloth who, as far as any of us knew had been a deli chicken mere seconds before.
"I didn't make the beer." she said after way too long a pause, with her finger still hanging in the air. Another uncomfortably long time after that, she lowered her hand.
"Who are you?" Raf finally said the first useful thing since the man appeared.
The man gave an astonished laugh, which petered out when he realized that we really were asking him who he was because we had no idea. "Really, you don't know who I am? " we shook our heads.
The man stood up straighter and looked at all three of us in turn. "I am the great God Búg, lord of temporary holding. I have dominion over all replicable receptacles in this great and bountiful realm."
We blinked at each other and at him for a few seconds.
I found myself laughing; quietly, but also a little bit hysterically. "Did you..." I had to start over because the laughter was making it hard to talk. "I'm sorry, did you just say your name was boo-guh and you're the God of plastic bags?" | I don’t know what happened. The ground trembled and I was knocked to the floor. I could hear my friends overwhelmed by fear, scampering away. I didn’t know what caused me to stay down. My heart was pounding, close to shooting out of my chest. I should’ve ran. Then came his voice. It thundered and gave me such a small amount of power. When I finally had the courage, I slowly opened my eyes and winced at the ungodly amount of light radiating from this entity.
“Who- Who the hell are you!?” I angrily confronted. There was only silence. He said nothing, and the light dimmed. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally said something. I was shaken with fear when he opened his mouth, and leaned on the closest object, a cabinet.
“You have nothing to fear,” he soothed. His voice had gotten gentle, but still kept its power. I didn’t believe him. I still saw him as a threat, and my breathing got faster. I could see sweat droplets on the floor, which I assume are mine. “I’ll protect you..” I slowed down and whipped my head at him. There wasn’t really a way to describe him. It was like all of the habitats on Earth came together and created a baby. Forest here, tundra there, etc etc. All on one, blank human body. Wouldn’t he have annihilated me by now for disrespecting such a powerful being? Instead, he showed mercy. He stretched out his hand, and I took it. It was strange. A powerful jolt echoed its way through my body. It didn’t scare me, or push in my adrenaline. I felt relaxed and at the hands of a mother.
“Who are you?” I gently questioned. “Oh right, Oktoj,” I mumbled, answering myself.
“I have meany names, some of which sound like your modern objects and creatures.” he backed away and sighed, looking at the mess. “My people have forgotten about me. Their traditions have faded, and my existence has been brushed away,” he shuddered. I felt horrible, but I was lucky to have stayed.
“Tell me more about yourself, I can speak to my friends about this,” I suggested. He looked up and faintly smiled, shaking his head. Now, the room was eerily somber. It was quiet. The dust floated in the sunlight and the birds occasionally chirped.
“Trust me, they’ll think you are insane, speaking of a fallen god.” He sat down and cupped his face into his hands. “But.... They are still making me proud, even if they don’t remember my name.” I was confused at what that had meant.
“Huh? Doesn’t it usually disappoint deities that someone didn’t believe in their existence?” I wondered. He sat up. Now, we were across from each other, no longer in awkward positions and actually got used to our presence.
“That’s what they all think.. As long as the people are doing good and bringing light into a time of darkness, I am happy that they are too,” he sighed. His face sank, and he gave me an urge to comfort him, but being so high in his ranks, I didn’t know how to respond. A god that didn’t care about his dignity, but rather the life on Earth. It astounds me to realize that I was beginning to choose this fallen king over the Abrahamic god despite their messages of love and Christianity.
“Well, maybe we can keep this closed. I’m going to tell my buddies about you, and maybe we can talk sometime,” I chuckled. He was visibly surprised, but he agreed. He was happy that he wasn’t treated like a feared figure, but a friend. Isn’t that how humanity should go as? Unaffected by the past, and moving on with the present. Happy for each other, and accepting good outcomes, even if no one worshipped you. Well, I’m happy to find a new friend.
Edit: My writing style may seemed messed up, but I split the paragraphs like I was supposed to and I have no idea what happened. | |
[WP] A penny pinching Villain tries to end the world on a budget | “Balloons?”
The word hung in the air as Doominator let out an exasperated sigh. The silence from his cowering minion didn’t do much to quell his temper.
“I sent you out for death machines, and you bring me **balloons.**”
“Not just any balloons, your doomyness. If we tie bombs to the balloons we can-“
“Bombs?!“ his ears pricked at the information. “Oh, now you’re talking! You got bombs, did you?”
Minion #36 tensed at the question. “Well, not exactly. We went to Walmart with your list, but they didn’t have ‘Thermo-nuclear detonators.’ I was able to pick up some Diet Coke and some Mentos though, and I think-“
His words turns to a panicked scream as the trap door fell out from underneath him. As the door closed, the cries silenced as Doominator scanned his eyes over the crowd.
“Minion #37, please tell me you have better news for me.”
A trembling voice squeaks from the crowd, “Ahem, yes. Well, there’s a funny story about that. Our attempt to crowdsource a doomlaser has fallen a few million shy of our goal. But we’ve been given the greenlight by the Evil League of Evil to operate out of Oosterhesselen.”
Lightning flashed behind his silhouette, casting his shadow down across the trembling audience. “Ooster-“ he growled, “what?!”
“Oosterhesselen, your deadliness. It’s a small town in the Netherlands. We’ve done a survey and I really think w-“
A barrage of electricity crackles out a nearby terminal, reducing the lackey to ash.
After another exasperated sigh, Doominator pulled his face from his hands. “Why,” he started, taking a calming breath, “do I continue to clone idiots?! Who is benefiting from this?”
“I believe you said it was so we didn’t overthrow you, sir,” Minion #234 chimed.
Another sigh was all that was said, as the sound of thunder rolled over the castle.
“You know, guys, I’m starting to think you’re not taking this seriously. You think Bad Horse has to put up with this? Or Lex FREAKING Luther?”
“Isn’t Lex Luther rich?” Came a voice from the crowd.
“‘IsNt LeX lUtHoR rICh?!’” Doominator cried back in a mocking falsetto. “That’s you. That’s what you sound like. Look, guys, this isn’t hard. I’m not asking for the world, here. I’m really not. I just want part of it. Now, we’re gonna take a break. We’re gonna brainstorm some new ideas, sweep up all this minion ash before my sinuses go nuts, and we’re gonna meet back here in ten.” | "So you're telling me... we have $10,000 dollars left?" said the Hooligan.
The flock of evil flunkies glanced around at each other. The silence in the room was so sour that a wrong move of the lips could pucker a face. *Or end a life* the flunkies all thought. The competition between them to see who would break first began, eyes glancing amongst them but averting the gaze of the Hooligan. One finally broke.
"Yes, that's right sir" said a particularly weaselly looking flunky. He pushed his glasses back onto the arch of his nose. "After the bio-lab incident-"
"Don't tell ME about the bio-lab incident! You all said that our intel told us the lab had some important research-"
"Yes, and we were wrong, but we still spent-"
"Spent how much!? It was a simple operation! I'm the only one who did anything!" shrieked the Hooligan.
"No, sir, you were the only one who made it out" the weasel flunky muttered.
"Well, then hire me better henchman!"
"We can't, sir, you have the lowest reviews on Minion's List."
"How low?"
"One and a half stars, sir."
"Well find me someone cheap then! Recruit some child soldiers for all I care, we're trying to end the world!"
"Sir I!" but before the flunky could finish talking, his glasses were pushed back for him. Glass shattered and metal bent; a wisp of smoke rose from the barrel of the Hooligan's revolver. The flunkies all put their heads down. One made the sign of the cross.
"Ah, shit, that was supposed to be the uh- the bang gun. You all know, the one with the flag." The Hooligan sighed, brushing off a bit of blood that had splatted onto his shoulder pad. It only smeared.
"Well who has ideas? We have $10,000 and some useless bio-lab equipment."
The competition began once again. Silence was safety, speaking was certain death. The flunkies twiddled their thumbs, their coughs and fake clearing of throats sounding much like the caws of the flock of birds they'd come to resemble. Again, a flunky broke.
"What if we gave everyone the cold?" said the beefy flunky. He may as well have moo'd, as the Hooligan bore his eyes upon him like a wolf upon cattle. "But we modified the cold first!" the flunky moo'd.
"Modified... the cold?" the Hooligan said, eyes narrowed. "In what way?"
"Well, we could make it a specific variant of the cold. A really deadly version that seems minor at first. It could spread easily though. I mean, we have the equipment to do it, right guys?" the flunky begged of his fellow potential victims. They nodded apprehensively, hoping this hair-brained scheme would satiate the Hooligan for now.
"And then what would we do?"
"Well, nothing sir. We could use the time that the cold is spreading to start to gather more funds. Place money in the right pockets to make governments make the wrong decisions in handling it. We'd let the world tear itself apart."
Another pause fell over the room, but this time, one of opportunity. Suddenly the flunkies awoke, like drunks out of a stupor. The cold water bucket of possibility pulled them from their silence and drove them to bolster the idea. The Hooligan held up his hand and immediately the room fell to a hush.
"Absolutely not, that idea is far too unrealistic. I mean, it's just a cold right? Look let's just come back to this guys, we should focus on boosting our Minion's list score. All of you, get on your phones, and someone go toss that bio-lab equipment with the other abandoned ideas."
"The room with the explosive whoopee cushions, sir?" a flunky asked.
"No, no, I want to use those. Just toss 'em in to the room with the bats." | |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | John was a reasonable man. He lived an average life, in a modest home. He ate three square meals a day, making sure to have a varied, moderately nutritious diet. In the morning, he woke up and prepared for work. In the afternoon, he returned home and enjoyed his newfound freedom. In the evening, he read whatever small book had currently piqued his interest, before quietly retiring to bed. By all means, John was an honest, quiet, neutral man.
It came with little suprise when he awoke into a white expanse, the bounds of space the same color as his bedroom walls. Perhaps he was dreaming, or imagining his room to be larger? That would be something, living somewhere of this size. He continued in this dull line of reasoning for some time, only stopping upon hearing a voice.
"You're dead, kid. Not dreaming, not fantasising. Just, dead." Most people might find this troubling, but to John, the thought of passing in his sleep on a silent Tuesday evening in the middle of September was almost expected. Briefly, he wondered if he had left the oven on, before being assaulted once more.
"Listen, ya gotta take the test. We need to see how well you've stacked up in life, yadda yadda, you know how it is."
He didn't, but he was never one to start an argument.
"What does this test entail?"
The voice groaned in a tone falling somewhere between annoyance and disdain. "How ya did with people. Nicest, not-so nicest, best, worst. Alright, on with the show, I've got plans after this."
Patiently awaiting his first trial, John sat passively in what he assumed was the middle of this... emptiness. He spent his time pondering; What awaited him in this first test of resolve? Would it be his friend from grade school, Bill? His tax officiant, Brian? The possibilities were limited!
"You're shitting me." The voice screamed in an unholy fury, obscenities flowing forth like water ontop of more water, in John's humble opinion. "There's not a single god damn person on your docket. What in the everloving fuck did you do? What kinda bullshit did they stick me with?" He could practically hear it pinching the bridge of its nose. "No, you know what, this is fine. Good, even! Makes all of this a lot faster. Hell of a lot easier, too."
At some point between blinks, he realized a small desk had materialized in front of him. Made of a fine, crisp laminate board and covered in the scent of day-old laundry. It reminded him of home.
"Just... Fuck. Just stay here, I need to get someone else to handle this, shit's out of my expertise."
That was fine, he thought. John was prone to waiting as it was. He sat in the chair which had appeared with the modest desk. A solid design, made of decent quality cloth for the cushioning, and a hard plastic for the frame. The entire setup was serviceable. He did not count how long the voice was gone, but a new one eventually took its place.
"Alright, so our... trainee, seemed to be having some trouble, so I've been assigned to your case file Mr. ... John Mann?" They were quiet for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. "I think I can see the problem. Ok, different approach from normal! What would you say your greatest contribution to humanity was?"
He thought for a moment. Contribution? "I suppose it would be when I gave a woman enough change for the bus fare."
"Oh good lord." John could feel his shirt billow just a tad as the voice exhaled. "I'm not even going to bother asking about the negative, I can already tell where this is going." There was the resounding noise of a stamp being depressed. "You are to be sent to the Purgatory of Purgatory. Your afterlife will consist of eating oatmeal, and little else. You will have some non-fiction reading materials, the majority of which will be self-published textbooks. You will have a garden in which grows nothing but grass. The furniture will be sparse, colored beige against a blank walled interior. The carpet will be the color of brown sugar. The house will have one lamp, which is serviceable but not ideal. The water will always run lukewarm, and the soaps will smell of wax." The voice paused, inhaling sharply. "Hoo, boy. Do you understand?"
John's face, long passive and pensive, finally broke into one of confusion. "You mean I get to go home?"
"I fucking hate this job." | Michael smiled at me and told me not to be afraid. He reached out with his right hand to take mine. It was surprisingly rough, like a carpenter’s. I looked at him quizzically-I didn’t believe in an afterlife during life so this... was unexpected.
“It’s ok, please come with me.”
We walked in silence, hand in hand. Our steps uneven over the rough ground, a path barely visible between the grasses, the sky broad and empty overhead. It was sunny, but there was no sun. No son. He kept a firm grasp as I stumbled, keeping me from falling over.
After... a while? We arrived at a small, basic concrete house with a tin roof. A Quinta, complete with the sound of cattle in the background. I recognized the place or at least found it familiar, as a farm I’d been to as a teenager. Somewhere that had etched itself into my memory as a place of astounding emotion. I still don’t really have words to decide what emotions - maybe all of them at once.
As we approached, four figures came out to meet us. At first I couldn’t see their humanity. The shape was human, the features were human but ambiguous and flickering. Like watching old black and white tv or a cheap surveillance camera. Eventually their faces settles - mostly into four people I loved most in the world.
My Granny. My beautiful wonderful granny who walked through life mostly quiet and gruff and profoundly loving. Teaching me the joy of seeds and plants and hard, physical work. The importance of hugs and the opportunity to explore our corner of the world with impunity.
“Granny!”
“My child” she said, wrapping her arms around me and stroking my hair”. As I can close to her the background shimmered and I was standing in her garden, listening to summer afternoon sounds of grasshoppers and the occasional crow, warmth and dryness settling around me”
“You gave my morphine at the end of my days and released me. You took my life and gave me freedom, without judgment and with love. I judge you fully human”. She strokes me cheek and stepped back.
...
More to come, just gotta go to work now. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | I saw the silhouette in front of me. They were standing right by a light, so I couldn't see their face. We stood in silence for several minutes, and the figure finally spoke. "Let's begin your judging." It sounded female, and familiar.
"Wait," I objected. "Shouldn't there be four people judging me?"
"With your case, one will be enough. This will all make sense once you see my face."
Wow. Did I really live that boring of a life to only need one person? But I know for a fact that I wasn't kind to everyone, so there should be at least two people judging me. I really wanted to know how I only needed one person's opinion to decide if I went on the Stairway or the Highway, or as I liked to call it, the Hellevator.
The figure spoke again. "Let's start off with a simple question. Who do you think you were the kindest to?" Well, that was easy. It was my husband, Anthony. He was still on Earth, but we both hoped that he would come and join me once time ran out for him. My life ended shorter than I expected because of a terminal cancer. I pray that Anthony will be able to continue leading a good life, even with my absence. However, as I was about to vocalize my husband's name, another figure popped into my mind. She looked familiar, but I couldn't entirely tell who she was. She was similar to the silhouette judging my existence. I shook her out of my mind and firmly spoke "Anthony. He is my husband."
"Interesting," the figure replied. They pulled out a clipboard, and marked something on it. "This is the second question. Who do you think you were the cruellest to?" That one, I didn't entirely know. I had my share of bullies that I was rude to, but they didn't seem to fit the answer to the question. I thought of my siblings and parents. I was rude to them a fair amount, but again, they didn't seem like the answer to the question either. Then the same figure appeared in my head. How could I have been cruel to that person if I didn't know who she was? After a minute or two of racking my brain, I still couldn't find an answer to the figure's question. "I... don't know," I said. This reply wasn't as firm as my first answer, but I wasn't mumbling yet. The figure didn't say anything. They just scribbled something on their clipboard again. I could feel my nerves rising.
"Third question. Is there anyone on Earth or in Heaven or Hell that you chose to save on Earth?" Wait. I thought this figure was all-knowing. I've never saved anyone, let alone been a "hero" for anything. I was an actuary, for Pete's sake! How does crunching numbers save anyone? Again, the figure of the girl popped into my head. Again, she wasn't the answer to the question the figure asked me. "Again, I don't know." I was beginning to mumble, and my nerves were just about through the roof, if there was one in purgatory. The figure didn't write anything down, they just spoke again.
"Final question. Is there anyone whose life ended because of you?" What?!?! If my nerves weren't through the atmosphere, they now were. I hadn't killed anyone on Earth; I was innocent! "What?!?!" I yelped. "Surely you must be judging the wrong person! I didn't save anyone's life, or killed anyone! I couldn't kill if my life depended on it! I've just lead an average, boring life as an actuary! I never had kids, and I've only dated a couple guys, one of which became my husband! I think you might be judging the wrong person! Do you even know my name, let alone who I was on Earth?!?!"
"Of course I do, Hannah." The figure's voice wasn't raised at all; it was still the same level of cool, calm, and collected from the moment it entered the room. "I know you just as well as you know yourself, if not better. I've seen and experienced every second of every breath you took on earth. I know everyone that you interacted with, and those you impacted the most."
"So who did I impact?!" I yelled at the figure. If you know, why don't you tell me? Why can't you? Why *won't* you?!" The figure stayed silent for a moment, then said "Alright, since you asked, I will show you, but first you must answer another question." Another one? Let me guess, who did you annoy the most? "Okay," I tell the figure.
"Who was the person that showed up each time during the first three questions I asked?" What? That's a bit different compared to the other four they asked. The girl popped up in my head again. "Well, there's this girl that showed up during the questions, but I don't know who she is, since she won't share her identity, kind of like you..." I replied.
"Ah, yes, I did promise that I would reveal my identity, didn't I? The figure said with a chuckle. It then stepped forward, and into the light, so the shine wouldn't cast a silhouette. Once my eyes adjusted to the sunspots leaving my eyes, I realized who it was.
I was looking at myself. All of a sudden, the female figure in my head popped up again, but I knew who it was as well. I was seeing myself in my head as well!
"Wait, you're me? But that doesn't make any..." I started to object. But then it hit me: *I was the answer to all the questions!* I was the kindest to myself when I learned to love my body and give it the love it deserved. I was also the cruellest to myself because I was often too hard on myself, especially when I was insecure about my weight and trying to lose some. I saved myself through music, using song to find my way through life and my depression episodes. I also killed myself; not by suicide, but by giving up hope when I got closer to the end of my battle with cancer. "Oh. I'm the answer to all those questions!" I exclaimed.
"Correct." My mirror self smiled at me, and continued speaking. "Since you were the person you impacted most, I'll let you decide the final question: Do you think you're worthy to enter Heaven?"
I immediately felt guilt. I was a good person overall, but I had still sinned. I certainly didn't feel worthy. "I don't know I'm worthy," I told my worst judge: myself.
My doppelganger was still beaming at me, and replied with three sentences. "I know that you are worthy for Heaven. You won't be riding the Hellevator at all in this eternity. See you in eternity." | Michael smiled at me and told me not to be afraid. He reached out with his right hand to take mine. It was surprisingly rough, like a carpenter’s. I looked at him quizzically-I didn’t believe in an afterlife during life so this... was unexpected.
“It’s ok, please come with me.”
We walked in silence, hand in hand. Our steps uneven over the rough ground, a path barely visible between the grasses, the sky broad and empty overhead. It was sunny, but there was no sun. No son. He kept a firm grasp as I stumbled, keeping me from falling over.
After... a while? We arrived at a small, basic concrete house with a tin roof. A Quinta, complete with the sound of cattle in the background. I recognized the place or at least found it familiar, as a farm I’d been to as a teenager. Somewhere that had etched itself into my memory as a place of astounding emotion. I still don’t really have words to decide what emotions - maybe all of them at once.
As we approached, four figures came out to meet us. At first I couldn’t see their humanity. The shape was human, the features were human but ambiguous and flickering. Like watching old black and white tv or a cheap surveillance camera. Eventually their faces settles - mostly into four people I loved most in the world.
My Granny. My beautiful wonderful granny who walked through life mostly quiet and gruff and profoundly loving. Teaching me the joy of seeds and plants and hard, physical work. The importance of hugs and the opportunity to explore our corner of the world with impunity.
“Granny!”
“My child” she said, wrapping her arms around me and stroking my hair”. As I can close to her the background shimmered and I was standing in her garden, listening to summer afternoon sounds of grasshoppers and the occasional crow, warmth and dryness settling around me”
“You gave my morphine at the end of my days and released me. You took my life and gave me freedom, without judgment and with love. I judge you fully human”. She strokes me cheek and stepped back.
...
More to come, just gotta go to work now. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | The angel had been a bit vague when he explained it to me, but I got the gist of it. I sit in this room, and I'm judged by a person of four factors. One I was kindest to, one I was cruellest to, one whose life I saved, and one who's life I ended.
I'd look down to scuff my feet against the floor, but of course, there was no friction in this shitty endless void. The angel said they'd bring the "judges" through; though by the looks of it, it seemed like it would take a while. Their eyebrows seemed to raise in bewilderment and said they had to discuss something with the department upstairs.
After what felt like hours, the sound of heels resounding against the imaginary floor filled the void.
"... Zack? Is that you?"
My heart would pang as I heard my mother's voice. We had been in the car, returning from a stuffy family party, before we had gotten into the accident. It was entirely my fault, of course, so I'd assume that she'd be the final judge.
"... It's me, ma. It's good to see you again." I'd say, sighing softly.
Briefly, we'd embrace, Mom would let out some shaky breaths and a few years were shed.
"I'm guessing your one of the judges - 'the one whose life you ended', I suppose." I guessed, lifting my head to look her in the eyes. Though her lips were smiling, her brows furrowed in an odd way.
"Oh honey, I wish I knew how I could explain this better, but..."
Holding my hands and squeezing them, her lips would tighten.
"... There are no more judges. I'm the only one."
"... What do you mean?" I asked - this couldn't be it, could it? What about the other factors?
"They said I ticked all the boxes. I'm the sole judge." She'd explain, though she sounded a little unsure herself. "I'm the one you treated with the most kindness, though with the most contempt. The one who's life you saved, and the one you killed."
"This makes no sense..."
"I know, honey. Maybe I should explain?"
--------------------------------------------------------------
I'm too tired to continue, so if you want a part 2 just upvote or let me know. | Michael smiled at me and told me not to be afraid. He reached out with his right hand to take mine. It was surprisingly rough, like a carpenter’s. I looked at him quizzically-I didn’t believe in an afterlife during life so this... was unexpected.
“It’s ok, please come with me.”
We walked in silence, hand in hand. Our steps uneven over the rough ground, a path barely visible between the grasses, the sky broad and empty overhead. It was sunny, but there was no sun. No son. He kept a firm grasp as I stumbled, keeping me from falling over.
After... a while? We arrived at a small, basic concrete house with a tin roof. A Quinta, complete with the sound of cattle in the background. I recognized the place or at least found it familiar, as a farm I’d been to as a teenager. Somewhere that had etched itself into my memory as a place of astounding emotion. I still don’t really have words to decide what emotions - maybe all of them at once.
As we approached, four figures came out to meet us. At first I couldn’t see their humanity. The shape was human, the features were human but ambiguous and flickering. Like watching old black and white tv or a cheap surveillance camera. Eventually their faces settles - mostly into four people I loved most in the world.
My Granny. My beautiful wonderful granny who walked through life mostly quiet and gruff and profoundly loving. Teaching me the joy of seeds and plants and hard, physical work. The importance of hugs and the opportunity to explore our corner of the world with impunity.
“Granny!”
“My child” she said, wrapping her arms around me and stroking my hair”. As I can close to her the background shimmered and I was standing in her garden, listening to summer afternoon sounds of grasshoppers and the occasional crow, warmth and dryness settling around me”
“You gave my morphine at the end of my days and released me. You took my life and gave me freedom, without judgment and with love. I judge you fully human”. She strokes me cheek and stepped back.
...
More to come, just gotta go to work now. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | The angel had been a bit vague when he explained it to me, but I got the gist of it. I sit in this room, and I'm judged by a person of four factors. One I was kindest to, one I was cruellest to, one whose life I saved, and one who's life I ended.
I'd look down to scuff my feet against the floor, but of course, there was no friction in this shitty endless void. The angel said they'd bring the "judges" through; though by the looks of it, it seemed like it would take a while. Their eyebrows seemed to raise in bewilderment and said they had to discuss something with the department upstairs.
After what felt like hours, the sound of heels resounding against the imaginary floor filled the void.
"... Zack? Is that you?"
My heart would pang as I heard my mother's voice. We had been in the car, returning from a stuffy family party, before we had gotten into the accident. It was entirely my fault, of course, so I'd assume that she'd be the final judge.
"... It's me, ma. It's good to see you again." I'd say, sighing softly.
Briefly, we'd embrace, Mom would let out some shaky breaths and a few years were shed.
"I'm guessing your one of the judges - 'the one whose life you ended', I suppose." I guessed, lifting my head to look her in the eyes. Though her lips were smiling, her brows furrowed in an odd way.
"Oh honey, I wish I knew how I could explain this better, but..."
Holding my hands and squeezing them, her lips would tighten.
"... There are no more judges. I'm the only one."
"... What do you mean?" I asked - this couldn't be it, could it? What about the other factors?
"They said I ticked all the boxes. I'm the sole judge." She'd explain, though she sounded a little unsure herself. "I'm the one you treated with the most kindness, though with the most contempt. The one who's life you saved, and the one you killed."
"This makes no sense..."
"I know, honey. Maybe I should explain?"
--------------------------------------------------------------
I'm too tired to continue, so if you want a part 2 just upvote or let me know. | “Well, this is certainly a bit odd,” said the figure in front of me, dumbfounded. “It doesn’t look like there are any people eligible to judge your actions.”
This didn’t exactly come as a shock to me. I never really was one to interact with other human beings, much less change their lives. The only thing I was capable of feeling at that point was agreement. “Yeah, big whoop. What happens now?”
“I... actually don’t know,” the figure replied. “This hasn’t ever happened before. Usually a spirit has, if not the four judges I described to you, at least ONE person to tell them how they did in life. You, however? Nobody. You have no witnesses. No pets, no friends, not even a family.” The figure seemed to turn around and look at a sheet of paper. “What am I going to do about this?” it whispered with a hand on its head.
I was quite angry at this development. They hadn’t prepared for shit! “So what,” I blurted out. “Am I just stuck in Purgatory until further notice?”
The figure turns back to face me. “That appears to be your current situation, yes. I’ll need to speak with The Man Upstairs to figure something out. It may be a stretch, but we will try to solve this problem in any way we can.”
Then as quickly as I came to this place, the figure was gone.
I had a feeling I would be here for a very long time. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | Because of your laziness and indifference YOU MADE ME GIVE UP ON MY DREAMS! I could have been so much more if you had only dragged your head out of your arse and shown some interest in what I was, what I wanted to be! You might not have killed me Rick but you sure as hell killed the life I wanted.
The first of the four shadowed figures didn't let up at all, the anger in his voice chilled me to the core. The worst part was I had no idea whos life I had ruined so badly. Christ if I can't remember who I had done this to there is no hope for me now.
Remember how you used to taunt me every day Rick? The daily insults, I think "useless fat bastard" was the one you used to grumble at me the most. Do you know how that made me feel? Every day was a struggle knowing I would see you look at me in disgust.
The second figure hissed out these words in disgust, not angry like the first but cruel and mocking.
I can't remember being this awful. Was it when I was young? Why can't I remember any of this?
You found me in a low place Rick, it took a hell of a long time but with persistence you picked me up piece by piece and put me back together. You saved me from myself and you probably don't even remember doing it.
Did i? I always thought I tried to be kind but nobody stands out. This one was right I don't remember.
Despite what two of the others have said, deep down I always knew you were kind even if you didn't always show it outwardly. You always made the time to listen to me, even though I know I annoyed you a lot of the time. We had a hell of a lot of fun together.
So it's clearly two good, two bad.
What now? Do you judge me and decide on my fate? Up or down type of deal? Clearly I had been cruel and kind, helpful and a monster at the same time.
No. We can't judge you, we can only show you how you have been to us all. The decision is yours and yours alone.
We are all you.
When depression made you lose interest in your studies and you dropped out.
When you insulted yourself in the mirror.
When you picked up the pieces of your own life to make something of it.
And when you accepted who you were and became happy with yourself. | Some wait in stillness and meditation. Some talk. Most resort to some kind of activity, or several activities if they wait long, to keep them busy. Waiting for your judgement for what can be decades can become boring at times. I know all of this because, of course, as I was in life, I was a talker in death. Learning from other talkers, discussing stuff, had always been my thing, so why not continue that?
Sometimes, people would just up and leave in the middle of whatever they were doing, never to return. For some reason, we all knew what would happen then, and we all knew it was happening in that moment, for that person, so nobody ever tried to stop them. Some of us kept wishing them well, even though everyone knew it wouldn't make a difference. It couldn't, actually. The judges didn't judge one on the activities in the afterlife's waiting room.
Sometimes, people were called off and would return. Those who hadn't been called away sometimes asked, but never got an answer. And as soon as you were called yourself, you understood why. Judging while waiting to be judged yourself gives you a whole lot of insight and perspective on the process.
I had been waiting for more than three years when I got called away to judge someone the first time, and just short of four for the second. I will not disclose what happened in these judgements, for they are not my stories to share.
Exactly 2310 days, 16 hours, 25 minutes and 42 seconds after my demise, I left the waiting room.
The courtroom, for lack of a better word, was a small chamber with four chairs in an arc facing a fifth one. The look of the room can be described in one word: Neutral. A place to free the mind and contemplate whatever needs contemplation.
As I instinctively sat down in the middle chair, a voice sounded from nowhere in particular. "Welcome! Who do you think will be your judges?"
I was a bit surprised by the question, but apparently, whatever entity ruled this realm had a little game in mind. Not a bad sign, I thought and faced the first chair.
"John", I called my only child's name.
"Wrong, guess again!" I could swear the voice was smiling, even though I couldn't see its face.
"Elena." My wife.
"Wrong! Last guess, dear!"
And suddenly, I realised whose voice it was.
"Carl", I laughed. The man who loved guessing games. Of course. The old homeless guy living under a bridge on my way to work. Him I had been kindest to. Fits, I thought. I had never so much as raised my voice to him. And I had always had a warm word for him passing in the morning and the evening. Sometimes some food or a bottle of water. To realise just how much I impacted that poor man's life came as a bit of a shock, but a happy one.
No words needed to be said as he appeared on the first chair. He held me kindly in his heart, as I had held him all those years. We got up and hugged, briefly, but friendly, then sat back down.
The thing about cruelty is we often don't even realise how cruel our actions can be toward someone. But I had a a pretty good idea of who was going to show up next. When Anita appeared on the second chair, fear, sadness, guilt and regret whirled around inside me.
"I loved you", she said, voice trembling. "You were my best friend and my soulmate, and you left. I tried to kill myself twice because of you." I had thought about her a lot during my stay in the waiting room. At 21, I had decided to change study fields and move across the country. Anita and I had spent most of our tutelage time together, studying, quizzing each other, and so on. Over time, a deep friendship evolved. And when I up and left, I had done so knowing that it would break her heart even more than mine. But I had thought it best to make a clean cut. Because that life of unfulfillment in my first field of studies and dancing around our vague feelings for each other, while we both said we weren't in the right state of mind for a relationship, was not who I was meant to be. Some part of me knew that she had only said that so she could keep spending time with me, but I didn't want it to be true, so I ran from it.
As I sat there, trying to put my feelings into words, seeing tears running down her cheeks, I started crying myself. Without knowing how it happened, I found myself in her arms. We held each other and bawled our eyes out for a good couple of minutes. "I'm sorry.", I finally mumbled into her shoulder. It really was all I could say. "I forgive you.", she said, voice sill shaky. We sat back down and I looked at her. She gave me the faintest of smiles and that was all I needed.
Chair number three was occupied by my life saver, funnily enough. She was probably the main reason why I did make the leap across country. "Hello, Darling", my wife said, and I blew her a kiss that she caught from the air, like we had always done back in the day. We had met on the Internet and gotten pretty close, but not nearly as close as when I moved to her university's city and I got her in the right state of mind for her life, just like she had gotten me to come there in the first place. We were made for each other, and remembering our life together put the warmest of smiles in our faces. I didn't even feel the need to touch, because in the back of my mind I felt that we would spend eternity as one.
Then, finally, came Derek.
I had always known he would take a seat in that final chair, and he would hold my fate in his hands. The man who had tried to take my son from me. I remembered him, lying in front of me. I had gotten to terms with what I'd done in my own time - thank god for therapy. He looked at me and said "shouldn't have done that." "Me or you?" I asked. "Yes." He replied.
And thus, my pre-afterlife ended with a silly joke and I proceeded to heaven. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | \[POEM\]
Judgment day has come at last
Penance paid for days of past
And there he waits on Ether’s coast
For peoples he’d impacted most
&#x200B;
The first appeared without much warning
The face he knew, warm like morning
He scarcely reached to touch her hair
When loving judgment came to bear
“Daddy, to me you were the most kind
Even in anger that made you blind
What really hurts my heart the most
Is now you’re gone, you’re just a ghost”
Her words cut like razor glass
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
She fades away from where she came
And in her place, another dame
His face grew hard, his blood ran cold
Her voice screeched out like days of old
“Your life is over, I’m glad you quit
You piece of trash, you piece of shit
In our marriage and in our vows
Your cruelty for me knew no bounds”
The words struck him hard and fast
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
The next face was familiar too
A brother that he loved and knew
Through the smoke heard screams and begs
Enemy’s bomb had took his legs
“You saved me bro, you saved my life
You got me safely to my wife
I wish I could have saved you too
Knowing nightmares have haunted you”
His comrades love was deep and vast
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
The final face beset his sleep
War is hell, the guilt was deep
The bullet flew cross Helmand’s field
And struck the boy without yield
“Take your pills and drink your beer
You can’t escape what happened here”
The specter chose to say no more
His people knew the cost of war
The trial over, votes are cast
Judgment day had come at last
&#x200B;
Filled with horror and with strife
He decided to take his life
Judgement day had come at last
Judgement day had come and passed | Some wait in stillness and meditation. Some talk. Most resort to some kind of activity, or several activities if they wait long, to keep them busy. Waiting for your judgement for what can be decades can become boring at times. I know all of this because, of course, as I was in life, I was a talker in death. Learning from other talkers, discussing stuff, had always been my thing, so why not continue that?
Sometimes, people would just up and leave in the middle of whatever they were doing, never to return. For some reason, we all knew what would happen then, and we all knew it was happening in that moment, for that person, so nobody ever tried to stop them. Some of us kept wishing them well, even though everyone knew it wouldn't make a difference. It couldn't, actually. The judges didn't judge one on the activities in the afterlife's waiting room.
Sometimes, people were called off and would return. Those who hadn't been called away sometimes asked, but never got an answer. And as soon as you were called yourself, you understood why. Judging while waiting to be judged yourself gives you a whole lot of insight and perspective on the process.
I had been waiting for more than three years when I got called away to judge someone the first time, and just short of four for the second. I will not disclose what happened in these judgements, for they are not my stories to share.
Exactly 2310 days, 16 hours, 25 minutes and 42 seconds after my demise, I left the waiting room.
The courtroom, for lack of a better word, was a small chamber with four chairs in an arc facing a fifth one. The look of the room can be described in one word: Neutral. A place to free the mind and contemplate whatever needs contemplation.
As I instinctively sat down in the middle chair, a voice sounded from nowhere in particular. "Welcome! Who do you think will be your judges?"
I was a bit surprised by the question, but apparently, whatever entity ruled this realm had a little game in mind. Not a bad sign, I thought and faced the first chair.
"John", I called my only child's name.
"Wrong, guess again!" I could swear the voice was smiling, even though I couldn't see its face.
"Elena." My wife.
"Wrong! Last guess, dear!"
And suddenly, I realised whose voice it was.
"Carl", I laughed. The man who loved guessing games. Of course. The old homeless guy living under a bridge on my way to work. Him I had been kindest to. Fits, I thought. I had never so much as raised my voice to him. And I had always had a warm word for him passing in the morning and the evening. Sometimes some food or a bottle of water. To realise just how much I impacted that poor man's life came as a bit of a shock, but a happy one.
No words needed to be said as he appeared on the first chair. He held me kindly in his heart, as I had held him all those years. We got up and hugged, briefly, but friendly, then sat back down.
The thing about cruelty is we often don't even realise how cruel our actions can be toward someone. But I had a a pretty good idea of who was going to show up next. When Anita appeared on the second chair, fear, sadness, guilt and regret whirled around inside me.
"I loved you", she said, voice trembling. "You were my best friend and my soulmate, and you left. I tried to kill myself twice because of you." I had thought about her a lot during my stay in the waiting room. At 21, I had decided to change study fields and move across the country. Anita and I had spent most of our tutelage time together, studying, quizzing each other, and so on. Over time, a deep friendship evolved. And when I up and left, I had done so knowing that it would break her heart even more than mine. But I had thought it best to make a clean cut. Because that life of unfulfillment in my first field of studies and dancing around our vague feelings for each other, while we both said we weren't in the right state of mind for a relationship, was not who I was meant to be. Some part of me knew that she had only said that so she could keep spending time with me, but I didn't want it to be true, so I ran from it.
As I sat there, trying to put my feelings into words, seeing tears running down her cheeks, I started crying myself. Without knowing how it happened, I found myself in her arms. We held each other and bawled our eyes out for a good couple of minutes. "I'm sorry.", I finally mumbled into her shoulder. It really was all I could say. "I forgive you.", she said, voice sill shaky. We sat back down and I looked at her. She gave me the faintest of smiles and that was all I needed.
Chair number three was occupied by my life saver, funnily enough. She was probably the main reason why I did make the leap across country. "Hello, Darling", my wife said, and I blew her a kiss that she caught from the air, like we had always done back in the day. We had met on the Internet and gotten pretty close, but not nearly as close as when I moved to her university's city and I got her in the right state of mind for her life, just like she had gotten me to come there in the first place. We were made for each other, and remembering our life together put the warmest of smiles in our faces. I didn't even feel the need to touch, because in the back of my mind I felt that we would spend eternity as one.
Then, finally, came Derek.
I had always known he would take a seat in that final chair, and he would hold my fate in his hands. The man who had tried to take my son from me. I remembered him, lying in front of me. I had gotten to terms with what I'd done in my own time - thank god for therapy. He looked at me and said "shouldn't have done that." "Me or you?" I asked. "Yes." He replied.
And thus, my pre-afterlife ended with a silly joke and I proceeded to heaven. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | I waited, somewhat patiently, somewhat nervous. I wasn't anywhere specific, nor everywhere. Time passed, and didn't pass; and all the while I remained, and didn't remain.
I just... was.
I was told that my life was to be judged by others I had encountered on my journey. There was the one I was kindest to, and the one cruellest. The one I had saved, and the one I had ended.
Who were these judges to be? Who in my life had I wronged? Who's life had I *ended*?
I sat (I think) and pondered the four. I recalled memories of my life, brought forth images of everyone I had encountered. There were so many my life had touched. How could anyone choose 4 to be my judges.
And who among them could know me well enough to judge me.
Time passed. Or, well, didn't, maybe.
And then my dog spoke to me.
&#x200B;
*You saved me from the pound, and gave me a chance at life. I am the one you saved.*
*You treated me well for my entire life -- you walked me, cuddled me, gave me a loving home. I am the one you were kindest to.*
*You were there at the end, when I was sick and couldn't go on. I was the one who's life you ended in compassion.*
&#x200B;
And I asked "but I was never cruel to you -- who is my judge?"
&#x200B;
*In the kindness and love you gave me, you suffered greatly at my loss. In ending my suffering, you were cruel to yourself. You are your last judge.*
&#x200B;
And with a wag of his tail, he led me to the next part of my journey | Some wait in stillness and meditation. Some talk. Most resort to some kind of activity, or several activities if they wait long, to keep them busy. Waiting for your judgement for what can be decades can become boring at times. I know all of this because, of course, as I was in life, I was a talker in death. Learning from other talkers, discussing stuff, had always been my thing, so why not continue that?
Sometimes, people would just up and leave in the middle of whatever they were doing, never to return. For some reason, we all knew what would happen then, and we all knew it was happening in that moment, for that person, so nobody ever tried to stop them. Some of us kept wishing them well, even though everyone knew it wouldn't make a difference. It couldn't, actually. The judges didn't judge one on the activities in the afterlife's waiting room.
Sometimes, people were called off and would return. Those who hadn't been called away sometimes asked, but never got an answer. And as soon as you were called yourself, you understood why. Judging while waiting to be judged yourself gives you a whole lot of insight and perspective on the process.
I had been waiting for more than three years when I got called away to judge someone the first time, and just short of four for the second. I will not disclose what happened in these judgements, for they are not my stories to share.
Exactly 2310 days, 16 hours, 25 minutes and 42 seconds after my demise, I left the waiting room.
The courtroom, for lack of a better word, was a small chamber with four chairs in an arc facing a fifth one. The look of the room can be described in one word: Neutral. A place to free the mind and contemplate whatever needs contemplation.
As I instinctively sat down in the middle chair, a voice sounded from nowhere in particular. "Welcome! Who do you think will be your judges?"
I was a bit surprised by the question, but apparently, whatever entity ruled this realm had a little game in mind. Not a bad sign, I thought and faced the first chair.
"John", I called my only child's name.
"Wrong, guess again!" I could swear the voice was smiling, even though I couldn't see its face.
"Elena." My wife.
"Wrong! Last guess, dear!"
And suddenly, I realised whose voice it was.
"Carl", I laughed. The man who loved guessing games. Of course. The old homeless guy living under a bridge on my way to work. Him I had been kindest to. Fits, I thought. I had never so much as raised my voice to him. And I had always had a warm word for him passing in the morning and the evening. Sometimes some food or a bottle of water. To realise just how much I impacted that poor man's life came as a bit of a shock, but a happy one.
No words needed to be said as he appeared on the first chair. He held me kindly in his heart, as I had held him all those years. We got up and hugged, briefly, but friendly, then sat back down.
The thing about cruelty is we often don't even realise how cruel our actions can be toward someone. But I had a a pretty good idea of who was going to show up next. When Anita appeared on the second chair, fear, sadness, guilt and regret whirled around inside me.
"I loved you", she said, voice trembling. "You were my best friend and my soulmate, and you left. I tried to kill myself twice because of you." I had thought about her a lot during my stay in the waiting room. At 21, I had decided to change study fields and move across the country. Anita and I had spent most of our tutelage time together, studying, quizzing each other, and so on. Over time, a deep friendship evolved. And when I up and left, I had done so knowing that it would break her heart even more than mine. But I had thought it best to make a clean cut. Because that life of unfulfillment in my first field of studies and dancing around our vague feelings for each other, while we both said we weren't in the right state of mind for a relationship, was not who I was meant to be. Some part of me knew that she had only said that so she could keep spending time with me, but I didn't want it to be true, so I ran from it.
As I sat there, trying to put my feelings into words, seeing tears running down her cheeks, I started crying myself. Without knowing how it happened, I found myself in her arms. We held each other and bawled our eyes out for a good couple of minutes. "I'm sorry.", I finally mumbled into her shoulder. It really was all I could say. "I forgive you.", she said, voice sill shaky. We sat back down and I looked at her. She gave me the faintest of smiles and that was all I needed.
Chair number three was occupied by my life saver, funnily enough. She was probably the main reason why I did make the leap across country. "Hello, Darling", my wife said, and I blew her a kiss that she caught from the air, like we had always done back in the day. We had met on the Internet and gotten pretty close, but not nearly as close as when I moved to her university's city and I got her in the right state of mind for her life, just like she had gotten me to come there in the first place. We were made for each other, and remembering our life together put the warmest of smiles in our faces. I didn't even feel the need to touch, because in the back of my mind I felt that we would spend eternity as one.
Then, finally, came Derek.
I had always known he would take a seat in that final chair, and he would hold my fate in his hands. The man who had tried to take my son from me. I remembered him, lying in front of me. I had gotten to terms with what I'd done in my own time - thank god for therapy. He looked at me and said "shouldn't have done that." "Me or you?" I asked. "Yes." He replied.
And thus, my pre-afterlife ended with a silly joke and I proceeded to heaven. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | Because of your laziness and indifference YOU MADE ME GIVE UP ON MY DREAMS! I could have been so much more if you had only dragged your head out of your arse and shown some interest in what I was, what I wanted to be! You might not have killed me Rick but you sure as hell killed the life I wanted.
The first of the four shadowed figures didn't let up at all, the anger in his voice chilled me to the core. The worst part was I had no idea whos life I had ruined so badly. Christ if I can't remember who I had done this to there is no hope for me now.
Remember how you used to taunt me every day Rick? The daily insults, I think "useless fat bastard" was the one you used to grumble at me the most. Do you know how that made me feel? Every day was a struggle knowing I would see you look at me in disgust.
The second figure hissed out these words in disgust, not angry like the first but cruel and mocking.
I can't remember being this awful. Was it when I was young? Why can't I remember any of this?
You found me in a low place Rick, it took a hell of a long time but with persistence you picked me up piece by piece and put me back together. You saved me from myself and you probably don't even remember doing it.
Did i? I always thought I tried to be kind but nobody stands out. This one was right I don't remember.
Despite what two of the others have said, deep down I always knew you were kind even if you didn't always show it outwardly. You always made the time to listen to me, even though I know I annoyed you a lot of the time. We had a hell of a lot of fun together.
So it's clearly two good, two bad.
What now? Do you judge me and decide on my fate? Up or down type of deal? Clearly I had been cruel and kind, helpful and a monster at the same time.
No. We can't judge you, we can only show you how you have been to us all. The decision is yours and yours alone.
We are all you.
When depression made you lose interest in your studies and you dropped out.
When you insulted yourself in the mirror.
When you picked up the pieces of your own life to make something of it.
And when you accepted who you were and became happy with yourself. | I open my eyes as I stood alone in a blank white room. A hear a monotone voice call me: “Daniel Arris, you have died. Welcome to Purgatory. The Council of Four will decide your fate soon, please wait.” I walk around in the empty void I now reside and soon enough, a door of black iron opened.
“This is so weird.” I said as I walked through into a dark room. A light soon shined upon me and an angel along with 4 cloaked figures appeared before me. The angel talked, “Daniel Arris, I am the angel Raguel, and I will act as the judge of the Council of Four. The Council will now decide your fate.”
The first cloaked figure spoke in a soft voice: “I am the soul of the one you greeted with most kindness.” A mirror showed me as a child playing with my sisters, as a teenager taking back an old woman’s purse, and as an adult holding my newborn child. Just as the memories of joy faded, it disappeared.
The second one shouted in a gruff voice: “I am the soul of he you treated most cruel!” The mirror appeared again and showed me breaking my cousin’s toys, as a teen bullying the freshmen in highschool, and mistreating my employees as an adult. It dissapered, leaving me with shame and sadness.
The third called in loving sound: “I am the soul of the life you saved.” The mirror came and showed the memory of me on my 18th birthday, tackling a man pointing a knife of a young woman. It soon left, feeding my soul with empathy and fuffilment.
The fourth screamed in an angry tone: “And I am the soul of the life you had let end!” The mirror appeared and showed a memory before the previous when I passed by a mugging and did nothing, finding out the next day that the person was killed. It disappeared for the last time, filling me with guilt and regret.
Raguel removed the cloaks and revealed their identites. The first was my older sister Rachel, who I comforted in her times of grief. The second was my assisstant, who I had bullied in highschool and bullied even more in the workplace. The third was the girl who turned out to be my best friend’s new girlfriend. The last was unveiled as the young boy who I had let die.
Raguel finally spoke. “The Council has decided your fate.” I only heard the sound of a gavel as my eyes shot open once again. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | \[POEM\]
Judgment day has come at last
Penance paid for days of past
And there he waits on Ether’s coast
For peoples he’d impacted most
&#x200B;
The first appeared without much warning
The face he knew, warm like morning
He scarcely reached to touch her hair
When loving judgment came to bear
“Daddy, to me you were the most kind
Even in anger that made you blind
What really hurts my heart the most
Is now you’re gone, you’re just a ghost”
Her words cut like razor glass
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
She fades away from where she came
And in her place, another dame
His face grew hard, his blood ran cold
Her voice screeched out like days of old
“Your life is over, I’m glad you quit
You piece of trash, you piece of shit
In our marriage and in our vows
Your cruelty for me knew no bounds”
The words struck him hard and fast
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
The next face was familiar too
A brother that he loved and knew
Through the smoke heard screams and begs
Enemy’s bomb had took his legs
“You saved me bro, you saved my life
You got me safely to my wife
I wish I could have saved you too
Knowing nightmares have haunted you”
His comrades love was deep and vast
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
The final face beset his sleep
War is hell, the guilt was deep
The bullet flew cross Helmand’s field
And struck the boy without yield
“Take your pills and drink your beer
You can’t escape what happened here”
The specter chose to say no more
His people knew the cost of war
The trial over, votes are cast
Judgment day had come at last
&#x200B;
Filled with horror and with strife
He decided to take his life
Judgement day had come at last
Judgement day had come and passed | I open my eyes as I stood alone in a blank white room. A hear a monotone voice call me: “Daniel Arris, you have died. Welcome to Purgatory. The Council of Four will decide your fate soon, please wait.” I walk around in the empty void I now reside and soon enough, a door of black iron opened.
“This is so weird.” I said as I walked through into a dark room. A light soon shined upon me and an angel along with 4 cloaked figures appeared before me. The angel talked, “Daniel Arris, I am the angel Raguel, and I will act as the judge of the Council of Four. The Council will now decide your fate.”
The first cloaked figure spoke in a soft voice: “I am the soul of the one you greeted with most kindness.” A mirror showed me as a child playing with my sisters, as a teenager taking back an old woman’s purse, and as an adult holding my newborn child. Just as the memories of joy faded, it disappeared.
The second one shouted in a gruff voice: “I am the soul of he you treated most cruel!” The mirror appeared again and showed me breaking my cousin’s toys, as a teen bullying the freshmen in highschool, and mistreating my employees as an adult. It dissapered, leaving me with shame and sadness.
The third called in loving sound: “I am the soul of the life you saved.” The mirror came and showed the memory of me on my 18th birthday, tackling a man pointing a knife of a young woman. It soon left, feeding my soul with empathy and fuffilment.
The fourth screamed in an angry tone: “And I am the soul of the life you had let end!” The mirror appeared and showed a memory before the previous when I passed by a mugging and did nothing, finding out the next day that the person was killed. It disappeared for the last time, filling me with guilt and regret.
Raguel removed the cloaks and revealed their identites. The first was my older sister Rachel, who I comforted in her times of grief. The second was my assisstant, who I had bullied in highschool and bullied even more in the workplace. The third was the girl who turned out to be my best friend’s new girlfriend. The last was unveiled as the young boy who I had let die.
Raguel finally spoke. “The Council has decided your fate.” I only heard the sound of a gavel as my eyes shot open once again. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | I waited, somewhat patiently, somewhat nervous. I wasn't anywhere specific, nor everywhere. Time passed, and didn't pass; and all the while I remained, and didn't remain.
I just... was.
I was told that my life was to be judged by others I had encountered on my journey. There was the one I was kindest to, and the one cruellest. The one I had saved, and the one I had ended.
Who were these judges to be? Who in my life had I wronged? Who's life had I *ended*?
I sat (I think) and pondered the four. I recalled memories of my life, brought forth images of everyone I had encountered. There were so many my life had touched. How could anyone choose 4 to be my judges.
And who among them could know me well enough to judge me.
Time passed. Or, well, didn't, maybe.
And then my dog spoke to me.
&#x200B;
*You saved me from the pound, and gave me a chance at life. I am the one you saved.*
*You treated me well for my entire life -- you walked me, cuddled me, gave me a loving home. I am the one you were kindest to.*
*You were there at the end, when I was sick and couldn't go on. I was the one who's life you ended in compassion.*
&#x200B;
And I asked "but I was never cruel to you -- who is my judge?"
&#x200B;
*In the kindness and love you gave me, you suffered greatly at my loss. In ending my suffering, you were cruel to yourself. You are your last judge.*
&#x200B;
And with a wag of his tail, he led me to the next part of my journey | I open my eyes as I stood alone in a blank white room. A hear a monotone voice call me: “Daniel Arris, you have died. Welcome to Purgatory. The Council of Four will decide your fate soon, please wait.” I walk around in the empty void I now reside and soon enough, a door of black iron opened.
“This is so weird.” I said as I walked through into a dark room. A light soon shined upon me and an angel along with 4 cloaked figures appeared before me. The angel talked, “Daniel Arris, I am the angel Raguel, and I will act as the judge of the Council of Four. The Council will now decide your fate.”
The first cloaked figure spoke in a soft voice: “I am the soul of the one you greeted with most kindness.” A mirror showed me as a child playing with my sisters, as a teenager taking back an old woman’s purse, and as an adult holding my newborn child. Just as the memories of joy faded, it disappeared.
The second one shouted in a gruff voice: “I am the soul of he you treated most cruel!” The mirror appeared again and showed me breaking my cousin’s toys, as a teen bullying the freshmen in highschool, and mistreating my employees as an adult. It dissapered, leaving me with shame and sadness.
The third called in loving sound: “I am the soul of the life you saved.” The mirror came and showed the memory of me on my 18th birthday, tackling a man pointing a knife of a young woman. It soon left, feeding my soul with empathy and fuffilment.
The fourth screamed in an angry tone: “And I am the soul of the life you had let end!” The mirror appeared and showed a memory before the previous when I passed by a mugging and did nothing, finding out the next day that the person was killed. It disappeared for the last time, filling me with guilt and regret.
Raguel removed the cloaks and revealed their identites. The first was my older sister Rachel, who I comforted in her times of grief. The second was my assisstant, who I had bullied in highschool and bullied even more in the workplace. The third was the girl who turned out to be my best friend’s new girlfriend. The last was unveiled as the young boy who I had let die.
Raguel finally spoke. “The Council has decided your fate.” I only heard the sound of a gavel as my eyes shot open once again. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | \[POEM\]
Judgment day has come at last
Penance paid for days of past
And there he waits on Ether’s coast
For peoples he’d impacted most
&#x200B;
The first appeared without much warning
The face he knew, warm like morning
He scarcely reached to touch her hair
When loving judgment came to bear
“Daddy, to me you were the most kind
Even in anger that made you blind
What really hurts my heart the most
Is now you’re gone, you’re just a ghost”
Her words cut like razor glass
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
She fades away from where she came
And in her place, another dame
His face grew hard, his blood ran cold
Her voice screeched out like days of old
“Your life is over, I’m glad you quit
You piece of trash, you piece of shit
In our marriage and in our vows
Your cruelty for me knew no bounds”
The words struck him hard and fast
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
The next face was familiar too
A brother that he loved and knew
Through the smoke heard screams and begs
Enemy’s bomb had took his legs
“You saved me bro, you saved my life
You got me safely to my wife
I wish I could have saved you too
Knowing nightmares have haunted you”
His comrades love was deep and vast
Judgement day had come at last
&#x200B;
The final face beset his sleep
War is hell, the guilt was deep
The bullet flew cross Helmand’s field
And struck the boy without yield
“Take your pills and drink your beer
You can’t escape what happened here”
The specter chose to say no more
His people knew the cost of war
The trial over, votes are cast
Judgment day had come at last
&#x200B;
Filled with horror and with strife
He decided to take his life
Judgement day had come at last
Judgement day had come and passed | Because of your laziness and indifference YOU MADE ME GIVE UP ON MY DREAMS! I could have been so much more if you had only dragged your head out of your arse and shown some interest in what I was, what I wanted to be! You might not have killed me Rick but you sure as hell killed the life I wanted.
The first of the four shadowed figures didn't let up at all, the anger in his voice chilled me to the core. The worst part was I had no idea whos life I had ruined so badly. Christ if I can't remember who I had done this to there is no hope for me now.
Remember how you used to taunt me every day Rick? The daily insults, I think "useless fat bastard" was the one you used to grumble at me the most. Do you know how that made me feel? Every day was a struggle knowing I would see you look at me in disgust.
The second figure hissed out these words in disgust, not angry like the first but cruel and mocking.
I can't remember being this awful. Was it when I was young? Why can't I remember any of this?
You found me in a low place Rick, it took a hell of a long time but with persistence you picked me up piece by piece and put me back together. You saved me from myself and you probably don't even remember doing it.
Did i? I always thought I tried to be kind but nobody stands out. This one was right I don't remember.
Despite what two of the others have said, deep down I always knew you were kind even if you didn't always show it outwardly. You always made the time to listen to me, even though I know I annoyed you a lot of the time. We had a hell of a lot of fun together.
So it's clearly two good, two bad.
What now? Do you judge me and decide on my fate? Up or down type of deal? Clearly I had been cruel and kind, helpful and a monster at the same time.
No. We can't judge you, we can only show you how you have been to us all. The decision is yours and yours alone.
We are all you.
When depression made you lose interest in your studies and you dropped out.
When you insulted yourself in the mirror.
When you picked up the pieces of your own life to make something of it.
And when you accepted who you were and became happy with yourself. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | I waited, somewhat patiently, somewhat nervous. I wasn't anywhere specific, nor everywhere. Time passed, and didn't pass; and all the while I remained, and didn't remain.
I just... was.
I was told that my life was to be judged by others I had encountered on my journey. There was the one I was kindest to, and the one cruellest. The one I had saved, and the one I had ended.
Who were these judges to be? Who in my life had I wronged? Who's life had I *ended*?
I sat (I think) and pondered the four. I recalled memories of my life, brought forth images of everyone I had encountered. There were so many my life had touched. How could anyone choose 4 to be my judges.
And who among them could know me well enough to judge me.
Time passed. Or, well, didn't, maybe.
And then my dog spoke to me.
&#x200B;
*You saved me from the pound, and gave me a chance at life. I am the one you saved.*
*You treated me well for my entire life -- you walked me, cuddled me, gave me a loving home. I am the one you were kindest to.*
*You were there at the end, when I was sick and couldn't go on. I was the one who's life you ended in compassion.*
&#x200B;
And I asked "but I was never cruel to you -- who is my judge?"
&#x200B;
*In the kindness and love you gave me, you suffered greatly at my loss. In ending my suffering, you were cruel to yourself. You are your last judge.*
&#x200B;
And with a wag of his tail, he led me to the next part of my journey | Because of your laziness and indifference YOU MADE ME GIVE UP ON MY DREAMS! I could have been so much more if you had only dragged your head out of your arse and shown some interest in what I was, what I wanted to be! You might not have killed me Rick but you sure as hell killed the life I wanted.
The first of the four shadowed figures didn't let up at all, the anger in his voice chilled me to the core. The worst part was I had no idea whos life I had ruined so badly. Christ if I can't remember who I had done this to there is no hope for me now.
Remember how you used to taunt me every day Rick? The daily insults, I think "useless fat bastard" was the one you used to grumble at me the most. Do you know how that made me feel? Every day was a struggle knowing I would see you look at me in disgust.
The second figure hissed out these words in disgust, not angry like the first but cruel and mocking.
I can't remember being this awful. Was it when I was young? Why can't I remember any of this?
You found me in a low place Rick, it took a hell of a long time but with persistence you picked me up piece by piece and put me back together. You saved me from myself and you probably don't even remember doing it.
Did i? I always thought I tried to be kind but nobody stands out. This one was right I don't remember.
Despite what two of the others have said, deep down I always knew you were kind even if you didn't always show it outwardly. You always made the time to listen to me, even though I know I annoyed you a lot of the time. We had a hell of a lot of fun together.
So it's clearly two good, two bad.
What now? Do you judge me and decide on my fate? Up or down type of deal? Clearly I had been cruel and kind, helpful and a monster at the same time.
No. We can't judge you, we can only show you how you have been to us all. The decision is yours and yours alone.
We are all you.
When depression made you lose interest in your studies and you dropped out.
When you insulted yourself in the mirror.
When you picked up the pieces of your own life to make something of it.
And when you accepted who you were and became happy with yourself. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | I waited, somewhat patiently, somewhat nervous. I wasn't anywhere specific, nor everywhere. Time passed, and didn't pass; and all the while I remained, and didn't remain.
I just... was.
I was told that my life was to be judged by others I had encountered on my journey. There was the one I was kindest to, and the one cruellest. The one I had saved, and the one I had ended.
Who were these judges to be? Who in my life had I wronged? Who's life had I *ended*?
I sat (I think) and pondered the four. I recalled memories of my life, brought forth images of everyone I had encountered. There were so many my life had touched. How could anyone choose 4 to be my judges.
And who among them could know me well enough to judge me.
Time passed. Or, well, didn't, maybe.
And then my dog spoke to me.
&#x200B;
*You saved me from the pound, and gave me a chance at life. I am the one you saved.*
*You treated me well for my entire life -- you walked me, cuddled me, gave me a loving home. I am the one you were kindest to.*
*You were there at the end, when I was sick and couldn't go on. I was the one who's life you ended in compassion.*
&#x200B;
And I asked "but I was never cruel to you -- who is my judge?"
&#x200B;
*In the kindness and love you gave me, you suffered greatly at my loss. In ending my suffering, you were cruel to yourself. You are your last judge.*
&#x200B;
And with a wag of his tail, he led me to the next part of my journey | I had lost count of the centuries I had spent in my tiny pit, hungry and thirsty and cold but never dying from hunger or thirst or exposure, unable to sit down or even lean against the jagged walls, when they finally pulled me out and took me to the Judgment Room.
I had known since my arrival here that I would not leave until I was judged by the soul to whom I had been most kind, the soul to whom I had been most cruel, a soul whom I had saved, and a soul whom I had killed.
And now I went to face them. What would I say? How could I sway them to show mercy, and choose to grant me escape from this place? My mind, dulled by ages in that oubliette, was now a frenzied blur of doubts and fears.
Finally we came to the door, I was pushed inside, and it was quickly shut behind me.
I found myself face-to-face with someone I remembered occasionally being kind to, someone I regretfully remembered being very cruel to, someone whose life I had saved more than once, and someone whose life I had thoughtlessly ended.
It was a mirror. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | "Jayden Malloy, your trial may now begin."
I look up at the four gray cloaked figures. I recognize the first one immediately: my adopted daughter, Michelle, smiles at me, glowing radiantly. I loved her like I would've loved my own daughter. Though she was originally cast aside as a problem child and stayed in the orphanage until 16, my wife and I were drawn to her quirks and decided to give her a chance at childhood before becoming an adult.
She speaks first. "He deserves to go to Heaven. Without him, without his kindness and taking the chance of adopting me, I would not have found the warmth of family, or the simple pleasures of childhood."
I smile a bit wistfully. She seems to have grown up wonderfully. It was a terrible shock when I lost contact with her after she turned 21 -- my wife and I both thought she ran away because we were terrible parents. But she doesn't seem to resent us for it, at least.
The next person speaks, a young man that I can't quite remember. "I was one of the interns in the company a few levels below you. You treated me like nothing, assigning me to meager tasks, wasting my time and preventing me from gaining any job experience. When I was hired by your company, you assigned me tasks without teaching me, then totally went off the rails when I couldn't complete them or did them incorrectly. You would mock me when I asked questions," He snarls.
I hang my head shamefully. I'll admit, my success in my career did make me cocky. When I got to a certain age, it did seem like I was at the top of my small bubble world.
Seeing my guilt, his expression relaxes a little. "It's not the cruelest someone could be," he admits with a sigh.
An old man stands before me next. I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Before he even speaks, I hurriedly yell, "I'm sorry! It truly was an accident that day, I haven't forgotten you! I, I, I tried to make it up! I'm sorry!" I bow my head, the guilt jabbing sharp thorns into my heart.
The old man chuckles, a soft, raspy sound. "I know, Jayden. I know it was just an accident. It was a busy train station that day, and when you were pushed back, then knocked me onto the tracks, it wasn't your fault. I never held it against you, even if my family did for a few years." He pauses, and I finally lift my head. "Good. Look at me. I was watching when you reached out to my family, when you offered them financial assistance. What you gave them was more than I could've provided them in my lifetime," he said softly. "I bear no ill will against you. Go to Heaven, Jayden."
Tears roll down my cheek. I couldn't face being a murderer, but now, the victim himself, was telling me it was alright. That I'm not a murderer.
The last one, a young girl, skips forward. Try as I might, I can't remember her at all. She laughs, sounding of tinkling bells and a childhood innocence. "Bet ya don't remember me, Mister. Even though normal people don't end up fishing girls!" I stare at her, confused. "When I was a child, you pulled me up from a lake. I didn't know how to swim then, so that definitely extended my lifespan! Thank you mister! Just for that, I think you ought to go to Heaven!"
I smile. A little girl I couldn't remember just determined my fate.
"Jayden Malloy, step forward and greet your judge," The voice booms from above.
Judge? Weren't there four judges?
As if he could hear my thoughts, the voice answers. His voice echoes deep inside my skull. "Haven't you guessed? They're all the same person, through the different stages of life that they were present for. You were kind and cruel to the same person, you killed the one that you saved. Oh, the irony," He laughs.
I slowly connect the dots in my head. The little girl that I saved from drowning was abandoned and almost killed by her parents. She grew up in an orphanage, got adopted by me, and vanished from my life after she graduated. She was trans, and between the time of college and work, decided to become a man. He found a position at my company. He got married, raised his own family, and later, was killed in an accident on the railway tracks. Caused by me.
"Bingo," he rumbled. "Now, I believe you have a lot of catching up to do, when you find Michael in Heaven."
The gates open before me, showing Michael standing at the entrance with his hand outstretched. "Let's go, Dad." | My name is Robert Wyatt and I have died. My name is Robert Wyatt and I have been told I shall await my fate. No pearly gates or St. Peter. No redemption or forgiveness from the Lord Almighty. Just law and order and the people’s justice remain for me now.
The bailiffs told me that I was to be judged by those whose lives I had impacted most in each aspect of myself: the kindest, the cruelest, the saved and the lost. So I stood and awaited judgement without council or jury, without witnesses or audience. I waited.
I waited 42 long years until a voice rang out in the courtroom of the dead. “All rise for the honourable judge Robert Wyatt Jr.”
He stood hunched and withered and older than I had ever imagined him to be. My son. My Pride and Joy. My boy. Older now than I had ever had the chance to be. I leant on my cane and pushed myself to standing. He looked so much like his mother.
He smiled at me the smile of a man who knew the world and all that it had within it. He smiled like a man who was older and wiser than me. He smiled so unlike the curly haired child who once delighted at the chance to sit on his father’s knee. And then he spoke in a voice so different from the one I’d heard whilst in a hospice bed.
“Robert Wyatt Senior, my father, you stand accused of a myriad of sins towards myself and others. You stand in judgement of for the breaking of marriage vows you made to my mother; you stand in judgement of stealing and lying and gambling and forgetting birthdays and baseball games. You stand in judgement for every sin and wrongdoing you have committed against the world and me.” And he smiled like the man I had raised a toast to on his wedding day, like the boy I had shared his first beer with, like the child I had taught to ride a bike.
“But you are not without kindness and love. You are not without mercy and forgiveness even when some idiot teenager totals your car. You stand as a man with faults and failures but you may sit as a good man.” He smiled with a tired and loving gaze. “As the only judge here today I make my ruling and find you a good enough man. Thank you for the lessons you imparted upon me- both those intentional or otherwise. I wouldn’t be the man I am here today without you. I wouldn’t be without you. Go to the afterlife you’ve earned. I’ll be there as soon as I can, dad. Maybe we can play catch again or have a beer when I get there.”
With the verdict given I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. All at once I felt new and young again. I felt like I did playing basketball in college. I felt as young as the day my son was born.
With tears in my newly young eyes I looked to the old man before me and reached to ruffle his hair and help him to his feet. “I’ll see you so, so soon Robbie, the best thing I’ve ever done is being your dad. I’ve never been prouder to raise a man better than myself.”
And I felt my go somewhere else. Somewhere my sins didn’t follow. Somewhere I hoped my son would follow soon. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | "All right," my demonic handler said as it lifted me from my oubliette with a single velvet tentacle. "It's time for your judgment."
"They're here?" I asked, sincerely terrified for the first time in countless millennia.
"*She's* here," it countered. "Follow." And it led me onward and upward toward the gates of Purgatory.
The Halls of Final Judgment were actually a labyrinth which covered the surface of its small world. The corridors were lined with doorways leading to Chambers of Confrontation, each large enough for a Judged Soul to face its accusers and defenders.
I had been told that, for time immemorial, those witnesses had been generally limited to four individuals: two to whom the Soul had, in life, been kindest and cruelest, and two whose life it had saved and ended.
But in my case, there was only one witness.
She appeared behind the bar, not as a simulacrum of her original living self as I did, but as a piercingly bright polychromatic singularity suspended between floor and ceiling. She looked like a pinhole in the fabric of reality--which, I suppose, is exactly what she was.
"Hello, Benjamin," she said softly.
"Aly!" After I had been brought here and told how Purgatory worked, I knew that Alyssandra would be one of my judges. It had not occurred to me until now that she might be my *only* judge.
"It's been a long time," she laughed, and the singularity's spectrum became...*sunnier*.
"Yes, it has," I stammered. "It's been 23,482 years in here. Is the flow of time the same...outside?"
"Sometimes it was, and sometimes it wasn't," Alyssandra replied, with a tinge of melancholy in her disembodied voice. "Objectively, only about 42 years have passed *on Earth* since your untimely departure."
"Was your life...*pleasant*?" I allowed myself to hope.
"It would be inapt to apply that term to the totality of my existence, but it *has* been extremely productive.
"Anyway, you've waited long enough, Ben. Let's proceed."
A seat suddenly appeared behind me, and I felt it against my shins. I sat down quickly.
"First, the kindness and the cruelty. Ben, you and I met in college and were intimate for the next 13 years. You were closer to me than to anyone else in your life by several orders of magnitude. The kindnesses and cruelties which you bestowed and inflicted upon me would be too numerous to mention, were it not for the fact that time means less than nothing here.
"Shall I begin?"
Several subjective decades later, she brought her accounting to a close with, "And then, Ben, you died. You continued to profoundly affect my life even afterward."
"How so?" I hated to ask, but god it felt good to finally be able to speak. Aly had never been one to leave gaps in a conversation, and that obviously hadn't changed.
"About 40 years after your passing, the first level of human transcendence was achieved, and its discoverers-slash-creators credited your theoretical work with having made it possible." She went on to explain how my purely academic musings about the nature of consciousness had given them the key to developing a process for transferring a human from fragile organic structure to a durable crystal lattice built to last millennia. "And as an added feature," she continued, "crystal consciousness was far, *far* faster than the glacial pace of its organic precursor. A year *in crystallus* allowed as much experience as *23 thousand years* in meat form."
"So you...*transcended*, then?" I asked.
"Not immediately, but a few months after they started performing the procedure wholesale, I took the leap. The pioneers were already millennia ahead of organic humanity by that time, and all new discoveries were happening on that side of the singularity. We "meat people" weren't just *primitive* to those *in crystallus*, we were *dinosaurs*. I had a lot of catching up to do when I transcended, but I had all the time in the world to do it.
"The second level of human transcendence came not long afterward. A discovery in quantum mechanics led to an entirely new field, in both applicable senses of the word, and it became not only *possible* to move beyond our current form, but impossible to justify *not* doing it. The transition was faster this time, and all of Transcendent Humanity advanced within the course of 183 minutes of objective time. That was about eight years subjective for someone at level one, but 438 *thousand* years at level two."
My mind boggled. "So at level two, you were living"--I tried to approximate in my head--"about one and a quarter *billion* times as fast?"
The glinting singularity turned sunny again. "That's right Ben. And to use a reference that you'll recognize, *it wasn't even our final form.* By the time the last of us had transcended to level two, we were ready for the next leap, which was almost as great as the previous one. By the time Organic Humanity had learned of the first jump, Transcendent Humanity had reached the theoretical limit of advancement within our universe."
"How old *are* you, Aly?"
She glistened blue-white, like a flawless diamond.
"To be honest, Ben, any measure of the duration and breadth of my experience would be meaningless to you. And there's more.
"The last several levels of human transcendence did not involve greater speed or expanded individual potential, but *merging* of our individual selves into beings so far beyond what we had been that it was almost impossible to imagine having been so limited before.
"The first merges involved only couples, but when the implications became clear, they escalated, until the 28 billion individuals of Transcendent Humanity had merged into a single manifold consciousness."
I actually *gasped.* "Then," I said, not even understanding to whom or *what* I was speaking, "are you even *Alyssandra* in there?"
She laughed, and the singularity became a panoply of brilliant color that I interpreted as *joy*. "Oh yes, Ben. I'm everything that I was, everything you knew, and so much more.
"And so are *you* Ben."
"Me?"
"Yes, Ben. After your autodrone crashed, I arranged to have your brain frozen as soon as death was inevitable. Then three years ago, in honor of your contributions to the science of transcendence, the pioneers set out a project to repair and restore your consciousness *in crystallus*.
"You experienced the last stages of that work as this Purgatory and your oubliette. I'm sorry, but given your deeply ingrained beliefs and biases, it was the best way to keep you sane for the duration of the work.
"But you are *complete* now, Ben, your memories restored, your personality intact. And I--*we*--are inviting you to join with us."
It should have all been overwhelming to me, but somehow it wasn't. I thought for a moment and was embarrassed at the only question that came to mind--but really, it had been a *long time* for me.
"Is there--*sex* in there?" I asked.
Aly, and the rest of Transcendent Humanity, laughed. "Ben, the communion that I experience *continuously* in this existence makes *the best sex we ever had*"--I had a sudden *vivid* recollection of the night she was referring to--"seem like a polite nod across a crowded room."
It was the lilt in her voice that did it. I knew with certainty that she was all Alyssandra in there, and I could not wait to be with her again, forever.
I grinned broadly. "Okay, Aly--*do me.*"
The singularity beamed happily. "Then let there be light," she said.
And oh, there was light. | My name is Robert Wyatt and I have died. My name is Robert Wyatt and I have been told I shall await my fate. No pearly gates or St. Peter. No redemption or forgiveness from the Lord Almighty. Just law and order and the people’s justice remain for me now.
The bailiffs told me that I was to be judged by those whose lives I had impacted most in each aspect of myself: the kindest, the cruelest, the saved and the lost. So I stood and awaited judgement without council or jury, without witnesses or audience. I waited.
I waited 42 long years until a voice rang out in the courtroom of the dead. “All rise for the honourable judge Robert Wyatt Jr.”
He stood hunched and withered and older than I had ever imagined him to be. My son. My Pride and Joy. My boy. Older now than I had ever had the chance to be. I leant on my cane and pushed myself to standing. He looked so much like his mother.
He smiled at me the smile of a man who knew the world and all that it had within it. He smiled like a man who was older and wiser than me. He smiled so unlike the curly haired child who once delighted at the chance to sit on his father’s knee. And then he spoke in a voice so different from the one I’d heard whilst in a hospice bed.
“Robert Wyatt Senior, my father, you stand accused of a myriad of sins towards myself and others. You stand in judgement of for the breaking of marriage vows you made to my mother; you stand in judgement of stealing and lying and gambling and forgetting birthdays and baseball games. You stand in judgement for every sin and wrongdoing you have committed against the world and me.” And he smiled like the man I had raised a toast to on his wedding day, like the boy I had shared his first beer with, like the child I had taught to ride a bike.
“But you are not without kindness and love. You are not without mercy and forgiveness even when some idiot teenager totals your car. You stand as a man with faults and failures but you may sit as a good man.” He smiled with a tired and loving gaze. “As the only judge here today I make my ruling and find you a good enough man. Thank you for the lessons you imparted upon me- both those intentional or otherwise. I wouldn’t be the man I am here today without you. I wouldn’t be without you. Go to the afterlife you’ve earned. I’ll be there as soon as I can, dad. Maybe we can play catch again or have a beer when I get there.”
With the verdict given I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. All at once I felt new and young again. I felt like I did playing basketball in college. I felt as young as the day my son was born.
With tears in my newly young eyes I looked to the old man before me and reached to ruffle his hair and help him to his feet. “I’ll see you so, so soon Robbie, the best thing I’ve ever done is being your dad. I’ve never been prouder to raise a man better than myself.”
And I felt my go somewhere else. Somewhere my sins didn’t follow. Somewhere I hoped my son would follow soon. |
I know not everyone saved a life or killed anyone, but just go with it. I like being dramatic. :) | [WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the four people you impacted most. The one you were kindest to. The one you were cruelest to. The one whose life you saved. And the one whose life you ended. | "All right," my demonic handler said as it lifted me from my oubliette with a single velvet tentacle. "It's time for your judgment."
"They're here?" I asked, sincerely terrified for the first time in countless millennia.
"*She's* here," it countered. "Follow." And it led me onward and upward toward the gates of Purgatory.
The Halls of Final Judgment were actually a labyrinth which covered the surface of its small world. The corridors were lined with doorways leading to Chambers of Confrontation, each large enough for a Judged Soul to face its accusers and defenders.
I had been told that, for time immemorial, those witnesses had been generally limited to four individuals: two to whom the Soul had, in life, been kindest and cruelest, and two whose life it had saved and ended.
But in my case, there was only one witness.
She appeared behind the bar, not as a simulacrum of her original living self as I did, but as a piercingly bright polychromatic singularity suspended between floor and ceiling. She looked like a pinhole in the fabric of reality--which, I suppose, is exactly what she was.
"Hello, Benjamin," she said softly.
"Aly!" After I had been brought here and told how Purgatory worked, I knew that Alyssandra would be one of my judges. It had not occurred to me until now that she might be my *only* judge.
"It's been a long time," she laughed, and the singularity's spectrum became...*sunnier*.
"Yes, it has," I stammered. "It's been 23,482 years in here. Is the flow of time the same...outside?"
"Sometimes it was, and sometimes it wasn't," Alyssandra replied, with a tinge of melancholy in her disembodied voice. "Objectively, only about 42 years have passed *on Earth* since your untimely departure."
"Was your life...*pleasant*?" I allowed myself to hope.
"It would be inapt to apply that term to the totality of my existence, but it *has* been extremely productive.
"Anyway, you've waited long enough, Ben. Let's proceed."
A seat suddenly appeared behind me, and I felt it against my shins. I sat down quickly.
"First, the kindness and the cruelty. Ben, you and I met in college and were intimate for the next 13 years. You were closer to me than to anyone else in your life by several orders of magnitude. The kindnesses and cruelties which you bestowed and inflicted upon me would be too numerous to mention, were it not for the fact that time means less than nothing here.
"Shall I begin?"
Several subjective decades later, she brought her accounting to a close with, "And then, Ben, you died. You continued to profoundly affect my life even afterward."
"How so?" I hated to ask, but god it felt good to finally be able to speak. Aly had never been one to leave gaps in a conversation, and that obviously hadn't changed.
"About 40 years after your passing, the first level of human transcendence was achieved, and its discoverers-slash-creators credited your theoretical work with having made it possible." She went on to explain how my purely academic musings about the nature of consciousness had given them the key to developing a process for transferring a human from fragile organic structure to a durable crystal lattice built to last millennia. "And as an added feature," she continued, "crystal consciousness was far, *far* faster than the glacial pace of its organic precursor. A year *in crystallus* allowed as much experience as *23 thousand years* in meat form."
"So you...*transcended*, then?" I asked.
"Not immediately, but a few months after they started performing the procedure wholesale, I took the leap. The pioneers were already millennia ahead of organic humanity by that time, and all new discoveries were happening on that side of the singularity. We "meat people" weren't just *primitive* to those *in crystallus*, we were *dinosaurs*. I had a lot of catching up to do when I transcended, but I had all the time in the world to do it.
"The second level of human transcendence came not long afterward. A discovery in quantum mechanics led to an entirely new field, in both applicable senses of the word, and it became not only *possible* to move beyond our current form, but impossible to justify *not* doing it. The transition was faster this time, and all of Transcendent Humanity advanced within the course of 183 minutes of objective time. That was about eight years subjective for someone at level one, but 438 *thousand* years at level two."
My mind boggled. "So at level two, you were living"--I tried to approximate in my head--"about one and a quarter *billion* times as fast?"
The glinting singularity turned sunny again. "That's right Ben. And to use a reference that you'll recognize, *it wasn't even our final form.* By the time the last of us had transcended to level two, we were ready for the next leap, which was almost as great as the previous one. By the time Organic Humanity had learned of the first jump, Transcendent Humanity had reached the theoretical limit of advancement within our universe."
"How old *are* you, Aly?"
She glistened blue-white, like a flawless diamond.
"To be honest, Ben, any measure of the duration and breadth of my experience would be meaningless to you. And there's more.
"The last several levels of human transcendence did not involve greater speed or expanded individual potential, but *merging* of our individual selves into beings so far beyond what we had been that it was almost impossible to imagine having been so limited before.
"The first merges involved only couples, but when the implications became clear, they escalated, until the 28 billion individuals of Transcendent Humanity had merged into a single manifold consciousness."
I actually *gasped.* "Then," I said, not even understanding to whom or *what* I was speaking, "are you even *Alyssandra* in there?"
She laughed, and the singularity became a panoply of brilliant color that I interpreted as *joy*. "Oh yes, Ben. I'm everything that I was, everything you knew, and so much more.
"And so are *you* Ben."
"Me?"
"Yes, Ben. After your autodrone crashed, I arranged to have your brain frozen as soon as death was inevitable. Then three years ago, in honor of your contributions to the science of transcendence, the pioneers set out a project to repair and restore your consciousness *in crystallus*.
"You experienced the last stages of that work as this Purgatory and your oubliette. I'm sorry, but given your deeply ingrained beliefs and biases, it was the best way to keep you sane for the duration of the work.
"But you are *complete* now, Ben, your memories restored, your personality intact. And I--*we*--are inviting you to join with us."
It should have all been overwhelming to me, but somehow it wasn't. I thought for a moment and was embarrassed at the only question that came to mind--but really, it had been a *long time* for me.
"Is there--*sex* in there?" I asked.
Aly, and the rest of Transcendent Humanity, laughed. "Ben, the communion that I experience *continuously* in this existence makes *the best sex we ever had*"--I had a sudden *vivid* recollection of the night she was referring to--"seem like a polite nod across a crowded room."
It was the lilt in her voice that did it. I knew with certainty that she was all Alyssandra in there, and I could not wait to be with her again, forever.
I grinned broadly. "Okay, Aly--*do me.*"
The singularity beamed happily. "Then let there be light," she said.
And oh, there was light. | "Jayden Malloy, your trial may now begin."
I look up at the four gray cloaked figures. I recognize the first one immediately: my adopted daughter, Michelle, smiles at me, glowing radiantly. I loved her like I would've loved my own daughter. Though she was originally cast aside as a problem child and stayed in the orphanage until 16, my wife and I were drawn to her quirks and decided to give her a chance at childhood before becoming an adult.
She speaks first. "He deserves to go to Heaven. Without him, without his kindness and taking the chance of adopting me, I would not have found the warmth of family, or the simple pleasures of childhood."
I smile a bit wistfully. She seems to have grown up wonderfully. It was a terrible shock when I lost contact with her after she turned 21 -- my wife and I both thought she ran away because we were terrible parents. But she doesn't seem to resent us for it, at least.
The next person speaks, a young man that I can't quite remember. "I was one of the interns in the company a few levels below you. You treated me like nothing, assigning me to meager tasks, wasting my time and preventing me from gaining any job experience. When I was hired by your company, you assigned me tasks without teaching me, then totally went off the rails when I couldn't complete them or did them incorrectly. You would mock me when I asked questions," He snarls.
I hang my head shamefully. I'll admit, my success in my career did make me cocky. When I got to a certain age, it did seem like I was at the top of my small bubble world.
Seeing my guilt, his expression relaxes a little. "It's not the cruelest someone could be," he admits with a sigh.
An old man stands before me next. I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Before he even speaks, I hurriedly yell, "I'm sorry! It truly was an accident that day, I haven't forgotten you! I, I, I tried to make it up! I'm sorry!" I bow my head, the guilt jabbing sharp thorns into my heart.
The old man chuckles, a soft, raspy sound. "I know, Jayden. I know it was just an accident. It was a busy train station that day, and when you were pushed back, then knocked me onto the tracks, it wasn't your fault. I never held it against you, even if my family did for a few years." He pauses, and I finally lift my head. "Good. Look at me. I was watching when you reached out to my family, when you offered them financial assistance. What you gave them was more than I could've provided them in my lifetime," he said softly. "I bear no ill will against you. Go to Heaven, Jayden."
Tears roll down my cheek. I couldn't face being a murderer, but now, the victim himself, was telling me it was alright. That I'm not a murderer.
The last one, a young girl, skips forward. Try as I might, I can't remember her at all. She laughs, sounding of tinkling bells and a childhood innocence. "Bet ya don't remember me, Mister. Even though normal people don't end up fishing girls!" I stare at her, confused. "When I was a child, you pulled me up from a lake. I didn't know how to swim then, so that definitely extended my lifespan! Thank you mister! Just for that, I think you ought to go to Heaven!"
I smile. A little girl I couldn't remember just determined my fate.
"Jayden Malloy, step forward and greet your judge," The voice booms from above.
Judge? Weren't there four judges?
As if he could hear my thoughts, the voice answers. His voice echoes deep inside my skull. "Haven't you guessed? They're all the same person, through the different stages of life that they were present for. You were kind and cruel to the same person, you killed the one that you saved. Oh, the irony," He laughs.
I slowly connect the dots in my head. The little girl that I saved from drowning was abandoned and almost killed by her parents. She grew up in an orphanage, got adopted by me, and vanished from my life after she graduated. She was trans, and between the time of college and work, decided to become a man. He found a position at my company. He got married, raised his own family, and later, was killed in an accident on the railway tracks. Caused by me.
"Bingo," he rumbled. "Now, I believe you have a lot of catching up to do, when you find Michael in Heaven."
The gates open before me, showing Michael standing at the entrance with his hand outstretched. "Let's go, Dad." |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | I woke up remembering the horrific night before. The sound of steel scraping through the air, pulses of weapons firing into the town. I saw old Frank's car from across the road explode into a ball of fire. I think Frank was in his car.
Then I saw one of them. Two huge insect like legs, four arms and eyes, so many eyes. I tried to hide but it was too late, it ran at me putting some kind of restraints on my wrists. My vision turned bright blue and my surroundings changed to that of the inside of a metal room. I passed out.
Now here I am, not quite sure how to escape my fate. The door looks to be made of several strong lasers. Whoever these aliens are they are way more advanced than us. The room has a few crates with writing nothing like I'd ever seen.
I hear a noise from outside the room. Two of the creatures are walking towards me. One takes out a ring of keys and fumbles with opening the door.
Then I hear in perfect English.
"Urgh not like that, you will get it next time"
The alien takes out a pistol and shoots the other one in the head, grabs the keys and opens the door. The now dead insect is on the ground, green blood oozing from the hole in his temple. I suppress the urge to vomit and look at the alive alien terrified.
"Don't just stand there staring, come with me. The captain wants speak with you"
I follow, not daring to do anything that this insecticidal alien would deem as offensive.
We walk quickly and I'm lead into a room with chairs facing towards a massive window. As we enter a very large insect looks at us.
"Excellent you brought the human here. Take his restraints off. He is a guest on my ship"
Looking around I just figured out where I am. I'm on the bridge of an alien spaceship, looking out towards the earth and I'm trying to not piss my pants.
The captain speaks again "I had you brought you here because I understand you are what they call a 'News Anchor'. You seem to be able to speak to a large amount of your kind at once."
I nod, unsure about what they are going to be making me do, knowing it can't be any good. The captain continues "We understand that your planet has grown quite old, I hope you don't mind us helping out."
"Excuse me?" I almost squeak.
"I hope you don't mind us culling your weak and elderly populations so that your planet may thrive!" the captain bellows out. "I understand that on planets such as your own, creatures get attached to their current vessels, but it does weaken the herd does it not?"
Oh great, I've just met insect Hitler. I find some courage to speak "We as a planet have had thoughts like yours before. However we ultimately decided that human lives are worth more than the overall strength of our species"
I can't believe I just told insect Hitler that he is wrong.
"But you are reborn are you not?" the captain says inquisitively.
"No we just die. Our people mourn and we move on" I just told insect Hitler that he can wipe out our planet. I look at him terrified at what he is going to do in response. But instead he is the one that looks terrified.
"Call the science department up here right now" The captain says with almost a stutter.
We stand there in silence. A few minutes later 3 insects in lab coats come running in.
the captain barks "If a species of alien doesn't get reborn, what happens when we shoot them?"
"They die" The first scientist says.
"That is what I feared" replies the captain as he shoots the scientist in the head.
Why. Why did he have to do that. The aliens look on as if nothing changed.
The captain yells at the room "Send a communication out to all ships to immediately stop culling all humans and send the top diplomats from our fleet to this ship."
The room went into a flurry of movement.
The captain sighed "I really cant be bothered dealing with the fallout from this. Drop this human home and open one of the captain crates from storage."
The captain shoots himself in the head. | The first report of something came from Starship Enterprise en route to Mars. Or rather, the lack of a report. Off course, the spaceship landed in the depths of the Hellas Planitia, thousands of kilometres away from the nearest colony. Several months passed and a distinct lack of life signs emanated from the craft. Normally, the crew would attempt to set up a base camp in case of an off course landing. Sometimes, they would settle in for the long haul. This was how the settlements of the Utopia Planitia and Elysium came to be.
Here, however, there was silence. No radio squak, no boots on the ground, no attempt at relaunch. Something was very wrong. An expedition was launched. The craft was found unresponsive, uncommunicative, dead before arrival. But there was no route of entry, no path in or out. The airlock was nonfunctional, so the ship was keeled over onto its side and bored into.
Within the investigators and the families of the victims found an unnatural darkness. Blood had dripped and run, sprayed *as if* there was a great and ferocious gravity and then coagulated into gore. But space had no gravity and Mars only half. The windows had become opaque and rotted plants scattered upon the craft. Everything was wrong.
Upon that moment there was a call for the dead, the very first and oldest colonists who just passed. They had breached the veil from the other side through means of science, isolation and mystery. It was an open question why the experiments that worked so very well on Mars failed so absolutely on Earth. But the dead arrived and heard the wails of the perished.
>*a terrible* `saucer` *phased inside*
>
>*disssection and pain ripping through*
>
>*memories fragmented; memories lost*
>
>*echoes remain*
>
>*of what never*
>
>*pain*
Taken AAAback, the investigators fled with a mighty roar! A fearful lion rocketing across an endless sea of red. It was all wrong, it was all dread when all was dead.
`the old ones too were uneasythese souls had screamed and tried to flee everwhicway`
`there was nothing to be remember, nothing to pain, they knew that the souls would not`
`but remember they did, infragmenpiecepain`
`even if they did theshoulnot fear, such was normal for eternity`
`something was wrong.`
`why do they forget`
Other instances of the *phenomenon* occurred in the future, from `saucers` buzzing by ships to silent catastrophes. Mars grew ever more worried, afraid and insular. Immigration rates began to fall as the colonies waited for a final, most terrible confrontation. Ships journeyed too and from the Asteroid Belt, Callisto and the Trojans, but few traded with Mars. SpaceX, once a proud exploration company, began to build enigmatic and malevolent weapons from their headquarters in the city of Alpha.
Saucers were shot down, interrogations launched, further investigations initiated, corruption cleansed. It was not enough, for a war of misunderstanding had already begun. Mars was roiled by investigations by the living and the dead, trying to understand the alien at arms length. The interrogations were most successful. They revealed that the aliens didn't understand what was happening either. Something was different about the thought processes and souls of the species. Somehow, the souls of the humans were lashed more tightly to their body others. Only in deprivation or death could be released. But questions remained. Why was this so? What was different about the evolution of the aliens? And why could none of this be replicated on Earth?
`question old ones have many so many`
`new these creatures are to lifdeatenternal`
`strange`
`somethinivverwrong`
`shivering investigations continue`
`end misunderstandings why`
`no lifdeateternal no old ones no %@Q&*@#)(*$@#$(*%@# and why third impossible`
Flights to and from Earth were rare now. The strain of an infernal world was too much for Earth to bear. The countries of old lay on their knees, struggling against renewed refugee crises. And to the dead, the Earth grew, a strange white orb inspiring fear and dread. An old theory was rejuvenated from the oldest of the dead. What if there were more than two actors in this *phenomenon* and that something else lived on Earth, hungry and waiting. What if there were gods.
The great Starship Gilgamesh was the last Starship ever launched, on the eve of a tyrannical hurricane making landfall on Rocket City. It was filled with 400 colonists, desperate to reach a new and better world. But not all was well on this ship. Every day, two colonists died. The cause of death was all the same, strokes in the brain stem causing a rapid collapse in mental function.
The clockwork death renewed Mars's unease. The war of misunderstanding was over with an understanding, but questions remained for both sides. As Mars sounded the alarm, a tenuous bridge of communication to `aliens` called for an investigation. After deliberation and interrogation, `aliens` chose to investigate the stricken Starship.
`arrival few alive many dead nosoul wait`
`twosoul?`
`old ones finnew creatures`
`physical surrounded by anchosoul`
`it can see old ones?!?!`
***I have seen your kind before. BOW before my power and live serving ME!***
**b**u*t* I a**M** ***S****O* V**E*****r***Y *H****u*****N***G*r***R***y
`FEARfearfearfearfearfearfearfearfearFEARFEARFEARFEARFEARFEARFEARfearfearfearafearfear`
***ANSWER ME MORTAL!!!***
`everythiniwrong`
`send hive purgepurge the third world save4 kilthirdenditendi--`
`AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA`
`%$#^$*%&)*q#^*(e$)&wqe(*&(*#@&$)(*@#%&)(*UED(*@#*&Q!@)(*N (*(@&QCN*Q@#&$@89&(*&@$(*&#(*&`
What the surviving `aliens` told filled the hearts of Mars with fear. Gods that ate the dead were nearing the planet. And so a sacrificial vessel was prepared to change the course of the threat. Crewed only by the living, the heroes knew that they would not be living after death like the rest. But in their greatness, they voyaged regardless, to change the course of the ship and send it onto a course such that the gods could never threaten Mars again.
The heroes piloted their Starship with greatness and bravery, impacting with enough force to shift the Gilgamesh onto a path far from Mars, onto a course which would doom the gods to starvation.
Later, many on Mars would wonder if the sacrifice was necessary. With further research, it was shown that the gods were incompetent in many ways. Electricity was a mystery to beings who did not need it in their lives. Surely a better, autonomous pathfinder could have been used instead. It was an unneeded sacrifice, borne out of fear. And besides, further research demystified the gods.
It became clear that the gods were not always such and that their story began long ago. Two million years ago, Homo erectus colonized the world. The species also colonized the otherworld, the universe of the dead. The forces of evolution worked for millennia, shifting their forms and behaviors. Eventually, one group began to eat the newly dead, among others and predominated.
The gods, from legends half remembered over the millennia, seemed to have intervened early in human history. A cometary impact which struck down the rebellious Atlantis 13,000 years ago comes to mind. And while the gods seem to have lost this technology, we always are watching, waiting and preparing. All to protect Mars and the universe we call home. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | "Ah shit, here we go again."
A magnificent phrase from a game the humans love. Now it's wormed its way into my brain, such a fitting catchphrase for proceeding to the next life is it not? I could see them panicking above, telling me I dove too deep- too deep for rescue. "We'd only be able to recover your body" they said, such a peculiar culture. Who cares if this vessel is lost? This experience is spectacularly new, a breath of fresh air in the monotony of immortality. I want to experience all the sensations this experience has to offer.
This diving setup was interesting. No air tanks, just hold your breath and go. The humans call this "Freediving" and normally return to the surface rather quickly. They prioritize safety above all else, better to dive again than go too deep and die. Their fear of death is understandable, after all it hurts quite a bit the first few times. They remind me of my own children who feared passing into their next vessel. After a few reincarnations they learned to trust their souls to find their way back to the material plane. Perhaps after seeing me do this, the humans will be willing to broaden their experiences as well.
"Focus" I mutter, tingling sensations emanating from my toes and fingers tell me the moment will soon arrive. Steadily the light around me fades as I continue to swim. Everything is hot despite the frigid water... how is this possible? Gradually my muscles lose their strength and my progress downward slows. Deep enough to sink, so I suppose that will do. Lazily, I turn my gaze to the environment. Most colours were lost. The shelf, a large underwater cliff of sorts, was bathed in shimmering blue light that managed to push its way through hundreds of feet of water. Above me my panicking human friends were mere specks appearing as though surrounded by thousands of fish beneath them. A biological kaleidoscope! I chuckle, releasing bubbles that appeared as beacons in the void. Burning, heat, pain... my time has come. My first death by drowning, how exciting! My body struggles to breath water. "You idiot!" I shout out in amusement, but all that came were bubbles. Water rushes in to fill the void that my breath left behind. This sensation is... horrific, no wonder the humans feared this death. As pain continues to radiate from my lungs I capitulate, my first drowning death will be my last. I close my eyes and embrace the void, with high hopes this pain only lasts a few minutes.
Flash, bright- too bright! I cry out in agony and triumph. I am excited to breathe, not quite sure why. Those memories will return soon enough I suppose.
"Kozi, keep pushing. He's already crying, that's a good sign."
An interesting name for a mother, Kozi is a masculine name. Kozo, on the other hand, seemed more fitting but who am I to judge? Kozi sounds like the human word cozy which is befitting for a mother, I suppose.
"Just like that Kozi, you're doing great"
I cover my face with my hands, the light is too bright. As I breathe, the sensation of air filling my lungs brings to light a very recent memory. I shutter and cry out in fear. That really hurt!
"Is he fresh?" a new voice asks, presumably Kozi. It was always exciting to birth a completely ignorant child, but that is rare. Kozi would have to settle for me.
"Doesn't seem like it," the doctor said. "He has fairly distinct motor control and, well, see for yourself"
The doctor hands me to Kozi. She has surprisingly pretty eyes. I giggle and reach out with my stubby arms for a hug. Kozi smiles, knowing that despite my age I'm still her baby. "How long until he matures?" she asks.
"Just a few days, according to his metabolic activity. He's been through this quite a few times it seems. I bet he has some stories to tell you."
"It would only be polite" I tried to say. Something like "Iwu pi wit" came out instead to Kozi's amusement. My vocal chords had yet to be on par. Despite just coming into existence exhaustion encapsulates my being. The next few days should be a good respite before returning to Earth to visit my human friends.
After a fond farewell to my newest mother, Kozi, I board the next shuttle to Earth. Where were my human friends? It had been about a week since my drowning experience. Chills shoot down my spine at the thought of experiencing that again, hard pass. My next few deaths decidedly will be via clinician, much more pleasant. Alas, at least I can say I went and did it.
The shuttle arrives at a retrofitted airport. Despite no longer needing runways, the tarmac serves as a perfect landing spot for large craft like this one. From here, I would hop in to one of the humans' self driving cars. Assuming my friends have their phones, I can just tell the car to go directly to them. All that remains now is to wait. Perhaps I should conjure a grand tale; rather than falling victim to drowning a great sea monster rose from the depths to snatch me from this world! Oh this is going to be fun.
The car drops me off in front of an ornate gate. Inside the fenced area lie an assortment of carved stones, rather peculiar if you ask me. I decide to have a look around. Since our relationship with the humans is rather fresh, this artistic arrangement hadn't quite reached my ears. Inscribed on the stones are phrases like "Here lies Joe, 2068-2153." I hear some conversations behind a grove of trees and decide to investigate.
"And thus we yearn and pray, that the soul of Schorlan be judged virtuous and true as one of God's children and pass through the gates of heaven. May he rest in peace"
"May he rest in peace" the crowd replied in unison. Their formal garbs of pure black caught my eye. Utterly bizzare, who is this God figure and why is he judging me? Not just that, the speaker knew my name despite me never meeting him. Perhaps this was some sort of theatrical performance the humans do between reincarnations? Unlike this God fellow, I feel no inclination to judge. Life gets boring after a while, you know?
"Joe, my guy- how's it going! What sort of performance is this?"
He looks at me with a hint of disdain. "Have a little respect, won't you mate? My friend died last week. I understand we humans might be a bit weird to you but, surely you know respect right?"
"Well, yeah, people die. Happens all the time, it's not like a celestial mission where you never see your friends again, or at least a few million years."
"The fuck you talkin' about mate? My friend died. He is gone!" Joe's tone shifts to a shaking shout. "I'm never gonna get to dive with him again! The idiot did himself in and I was powerless to stop him, fuck man I failed him and his whole family!"
"Are you talking about me drowning last week?"
"Dude, why you gotta mess with me like this?" Joe calmed down. "That's fuckin' rude man, excuse my language. Go mess with someone else, please." His eyes well up with tears as he turns his gaze to an empty patch of grass.
Perhaps he didn't think I was Schorlan? I looked different, certainly, but I knew who he was and approached him as a friend. Figured he would assume we knew each other and we'd play a little game until he figured out who I am. Somehow my death was significant, like the time my brother embarked on a mission to Andromeda. It would be eons until we meet again. The thought made me very sad. Even so, eventually we would meet again. Perhaps this is what humans mean by heaven, and their reincarnation cycles just take a long time?
I put my hand on Joe's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I was insensitive. Do you remember your past lives at all?"
With a flare of rage Joe slapped my hand off his shoulder. "You lookin' to get your ass kicked man?"
"For pity's sake Joe, it's me Schorlan. You taught me to freedive and all that, breath holding business and how the 'urge to breathe' is a useful but BS term kind of like all the different types of pasta noodles you like to cook"
Joe was taken aback. "How do you know all of that? I don't know you."
"We are friends, Joe. It's me Schorlan."
"Alright, this is still a bit weird- keep going, what else did we talk about."
I guess he is just that dense? He didn't seem so as we got to know each other. "On the boat, we had spamwiches for lunch right?"
"Right." He seemed more focused now.
"You kept offering me condiments but I was content with the peculiar salty flavor of the spam."
His gaze met mine with fierce contemplation.
"We got to the site and I was enamored with freediving, then after a couple hours I decided to go straight down as far as possible."
"Don't remind me." Joe's tone shifted to grave somber, "What could you possibly know about that."
"Joe, it's me Schorlan. I figured it would take a little bit for you to recognize me but, in all honesty it really is me. I'm not messing with you."
"So what, did you aliens figure out how to upload your consciousness to a computer or some shit, and get spit out as a clone?"
"Why would you need to do that if you can just reincarnate?"
"The wha- like Hinduism or what?"
"Not sure what Hinduism is but, yeah I guess."
Joe put his hand on my shoulder, more for his support than my comfort. He seems like he's about to collapse.
"Fuck me man, you're immortal?"
"Yes"
"Do you realize that we aren't?" | The first report of something came from Starship Enterprise en route to Mars. Or rather, the lack of a report. Off course, the spaceship landed in the depths of the Hellas Planitia, thousands of kilometres away from the nearest colony. Several months passed and a distinct lack of life signs emanated from the craft. Normally, the crew would attempt to set up a base camp in case of an off course landing. Sometimes, they would settle in for the long haul. This was how the settlements of the Utopia Planitia and Elysium came to be.
Here, however, there was silence. No radio squak, no boots on the ground, no attempt at relaunch. Something was very wrong. An expedition was launched. The craft was found unresponsive, uncommunicative, dead before arrival. But there was no route of entry, no path in or out. The airlock was nonfunctional, so the ship was keeled over onto its side and bored into.
Within the investigators and the families of the victims found an unnatural darkness. Blood had dripped and run, sprayed *as if* there was a great and ferocious gravity and then coagulated into gore. But space had no gravity and Mars only half. The windows had become opaque and rotted plants scattered upon the craft. Everything was wrong.
Upon that moment there was a call for the dead, the very first and oldest colonists who just passed. They had breached the veil from the other side through means of science, isolation and mystery. It was an open question why the experiments that worked so very well on Mars failed so absolutely on Earth. But the dead arrived and heard the wails of the perished.
>*a terrible* `saucer` *phased inside*
>
>*disssection and pain ripping through*
>
>*memories fragmented; memories lost*
>
>*echoes remain*
>
>*of what never*
>
>*pain*
Taken AAAback, the investigators fled with a mighty roar! A fearful lion rocketing across an endless sea of red. It was all wrong, it was all dread when all was dead.
`the old ones too were uneasythese souls had screamed and tried to flee everwhicway`
`there was nothing to be remember, nothing to pain, they knew that the souls would not`
`but remember they did, infragmenpiecepain`
`even if they did theshoulnot fear, such was normal for eternity`
`something was wrong.`
`why do they forget`
Other instances of the *phenomenon* occurred in the future, from `saucers` buzzing by ships to silent catastrophes. Mars grew ever more worried, afraid and insular. Immigration rates began to fall as the colonies waited for a final, most terrible confrontation. Ships journeyed too and from the Asteroid Belt, Callisto and the Trojans, but few traded with Mars. SpaceX, once a proud exploration company, began to build enigmatic and malevolent weapons from their headquarters in the city of Alpha.
Saucers were shot down, interrogations launched, further investigations initiated, corruption cleansed. It was not enough, for a war of misunderstanding had already begun. Mars was roiled by investigations by the living and the dead, trying to understand the alien at arms length. The interrogations were most successful. They revealed that the aliens didn't understand what was happening either. Something was different about the thought processes and souls of the species. Somehow, the souls of the humans were lashed more tightly to their body others. Only in deprivation or death could be released. But questions remained. Why was this so? What was different about the evolution of the aliens? And why could none of this be replicated on Earth?
`question old ones have many so many`
`new these creatures are to lifdeatenternal`
`strange`
`somethinivverwrong`
`shivering investigations continue`
`end misunderstandings why`
`no lifdeateternal no old ones no %@Q&*@#)(*$@#$(*%@# and why third impossible`
Flights to and from Earth were rare now. The strain of an infernal world was too much for Earth to bear. The countries of old lay on their knees, struggling against renewed refugee crises. And to the dead, the Earth grew, a strange white orb inspiring fear and dread. An old theory was rejuvenated from the oldest of the dead. What if there were more than two actors in this *phenomenon* and that something else lived on Earth, hungry and waiting. What if there were gods.
The great Starship Gilgamesh was the last Starship ever launched, on the eve of a tyrannical hurricane making landfall on Rocket City. It was filled with 400 colonists, desperate to reach a new and better world. But not all was well on this ship. Every day, two colonists died. The cause of death was all the same, strokes in the brain stem causing a rapid collapse in mental function.
The clockwork death renewed Mars's unease. The war of misunderstanding was over with an understanding, but questions remained for both sides. As Mars sounded the alarm, a tenuous bridge of communication to `aliens` called for an investigation. After deliberation and interrogation, `aliens` chose to investigate the stricken Starship.
`arrival few alive many dead nosoul wait`
`twosoul?`
`old ones finnew creatures`
`physical surrounded by anchosoul`
`it can see old ones?!?!`
***I have seen your kind before. BOW before my power and live serving ME!***
**b**u*t* I a**M** ***S****O* V**E*****r***Y *H****u*****N***G*r***R***y
`FEARfearfearfearfearfearfearfearfearFEARFEARFEARFEARFEARFEARFEARfearfearfearafearfear`
***ANSWER ME MORTAL!!!***
`everythiniwrong`
`send hive purgepurge the third world save4 kilthirdenditendi--`
`AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA`
`%$#^$*%&)*q#^*(e$)&wqe(*&(*#@&$)(*@#%&)(*UED(*@#*&Q!@)(*N (*(@&QCN*Q@#&$@89&(*&@$(*&#(*&`
What the surviving `aliens` told filled the hearts of Mars with fear. Gods that ate the dead were nearing the planet. And so a sacrificial vessel was prepared to change the course of the threat. Crewed only by the living, the heroes knew that they would not be living after death like the rest. But in their greatness, they voyaged regardless, to change the course of the ship and send it onto a course such that the gods could never threaten Mars again.
The heroes piloted their Starship with greatness and bravery, impacting with enough force to shift the Gilgamesh onto a path far from Mars, onto a course which would doom the gods to starvation.
Later, many on Mars would wonder if the sacrifice was necessary. With further research, it was shown that the gods were incompetent in many ways. Electricity was a mystery to beings who did not need it in their lives. Surely a better, autonomous pathfinder could have been used instead. It was an unneeded sacrifice, borne out of fear. And besides, further research demystified the gods.
It became clear that the gods were not always such and that their story began long ago. Two million years ago, Homo erectus colonized the world. The species also colonized the otherworld, the universe of the dead. The forces of evolution worked for millennia, shifting their forms and behaviors. Eventually, one group began to eat the newly dead, among others and predominated.
The gods, from legends half remembered over the millennia, seemed to have intervened early in human history. A cometary impact which struck down the rebellious Atlantis 13,000 years ago comes to mind. And while the gods seem to have lost this technology, we always are watching, waiting and preparing. All to protect Mars and the universe we call home. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | I woke up remembering the horrific night before. The sound of steel scraping through the air, pulses of weapons firing into the town. I saw old Frank's car from across the road explode into a ball of fire. I think Frank was in his car.
Then I saw one of them. Two huge insect like legs, four arms and eyes, so many eyes. I tried to hide but it was too late, it ran at me putting some kind of restraints on my wrists. My vision turned bright blue and my surroundings changed to that of the inside of a metal room. I passed out.
Now here I am, not quite sure how to escape my fate. The door looks to be made of several strong lasers. Whoever these aliens are they are way more advanced than us. The room has a few crates with writing nothing like I'd ever seen.
I hear a noise from outside the room. Two of the creatures are walking towards me. One takes out a ring of keys and fumbles with opening the door.
Then I hear in perfect English.
"Urgh not like that, you will get it next time"
The alien takes out a pistol and shoots the other one in the head, grabs the keys and opens the door. The now dead insect is on the ground, green blood oozing from the hole in his temple. I suppress the urge to vomit and look at the alive alien terrified.
"Don't just stand there staring, come with me. The captain wants speak with you"
I follow, not daring to do anything that this insecticidal alien would deem as offensive.
We walk quickly and I'm lead into a room with chairs facing towards a massive window. As we enter a very large insect looks at us.
"Excellent you brought the human here. Take his restraints off. He is a guest on my ship"
Looking around I just figured out where I am. I'm on the bridge of an alien spaceship, looking out towards the earth and I'm trying to not piss my pants.
The captain speaks again "I had you brought you here because I understand you are what they call a 'News Anchor'. You seem to be able to speak to a large amount of your kind at once."
I nod, unsure about what they are going to be making me do, knowing it can't be any good. The captain continues "We understand that your planet has grown quite old, I hope you don't mind us helping out."
"Excuse me?" I almost squeak.
"I hope you don't mind us culling your weak and elderly populations so that your planet may thrive!" the captain bellows out. "I understand that on planets such as your own, creatures get attached to their current vessels, but it does weaken the herd does it not?"
Oh great, I've just met insect Hitler. I find some courage to speak "We as a planet have had thoughts like yours before. However we ultimately decided that human lives are worth more than the overall strength of our species"
I can't believe I just told insect Hitler that he is wrong.
"But you are reborn are you not?" the captain says inquisitively.
"No we just die. Our people mourn and we move on" I just told insect Hitler that he can wipe out our planet. I look at him terrified at what he is going to do in response. But instead he is the one that looks terrified.
"Call the science department up here right now" The captain says with almost a stutter.
We stand there in silence. A few minutes later 3 insects in lab coats come running in.
the captain barks "If a species of alien doesn't get reborn, what happens when we shoot them?"
"They die" The first scientist says.
"That is what I feared" replies the captain as he shoots the scientist in the head.
Why. Why did he have to do that. The aliens look on as if nothing changed.
The captain yells at the room "Send a communication out to all ships to immediately stop culling all humans and send the top diplomats from our fleet to this ship."
The room went into a flurry of movement.
The captain sighed "I really cant be bothered dealing with the fallout from this. Drop this human home and open one of the captain crates from storage."
The captain shoots himself in the head. | "We create our own demons"-Although I watched Ironman 3 many times I never took this seriously untill that day but let's start from the beginning.
5 yrs ago strange alien warships suddenly appeared above the sky out of nowhere and declared war on us.We tried to fight back but they were a Type 3 civilization hence our weapons were nothing but toys to them.They even modified their own biological structure which made their bodies so strong and resistant that even nuclear wespons couldn't leave a scratch.
Hence we were captured.When we asked what they wanted from us they said they had created a technology that can convert human into living batteries which can used for millions of years as they have tremendous amount of energy.
So they captured all of us.Most of us were put into containers of sophisticated technology and the containers by some process extracted energy from the human bodies.Some of us were sent to undergo experiments for creating mind controlled super soldiers.I was one of them.
The experiment was hellish.They bombarded us with some kind of energy beam and then threw us into our cells.But the real hell was the after effects of the bombardment.My body started swelling like a balloon which felt like every part of my body was being ripped apart and then on the verge of exploding it suddenly went back to normal.But that wasn't the end.Then my body started glowing and the temperature increased to such high level that it felt like I was being burned alive.And then again my body was back to normal.But it started swelling again and then glowing and the cycle continued for a long time.The pain was excruciating so I passed out.
When I woke up I was surprised that I understood what they were saying but I realised it was telepathy.They used telepathy to communicate and for some reason I was able to do it too.
The Alien Scientist explained that I was a successful experiment.And I had evolved into a higher dimentional being.When I asked how was this possible he explained that all living beings have something called souls but it resides in a higher dimention and is connected to the real body.It is a tremendously powerful source of energy.They found a way to extract soul energy from humans by using those containment pods.Some humans whose souls have more energy than normal are sent for experiments to become mind controlled Soldiers but I was even different from them.My soul energy was extremely higher than the others and that I could become so powerful that I could change the tide of a battle between Type C civilizations.The experiments were done on me to restructure or evolve my body into that of a higher dimensional being so that I could access my soul energy.
"Do you aliens not even feel anything even though you are also living beings like us"I asked.
The alien seemed confused after listening to my question.
"You, a human is saying that.Did you forget everything?"
"What?"
"Well I guess you did so let me give you a hint.The civilization that created this cruel process of energy extraction are you HUMANS!"
I was shocked.How was that even possible.A species that hasn't even left its own planet created this.No way.This destroyed my mental balance.I thought the alien was mocking me.I got very angry and unknowingly I increased my power output to a very high level which resulted in the destruction of that chamber that was supposed to hold me.Too much energy.
Seeing this the alien said in a fascinated manner as if I was just an object to it:-"Yes .....I knew this chamber wouldn't hold you after all it can only hold the energy of a 1252 stars at most"
I wanted to kill him but I couldn't.I guess the human part was still there.The scientist tried to capture me but I escaped.When I couldn't find an exit I destroyed the wall of the warship and jumped towards Earth.I knew they hadn't left Earth.I could sense it.
I landed on Earth with a bang and created a crater on the place where I landed.But when I looked up I was shocked.Now Earth looked like a completely different place.Earth was filled with advanced technological buildings and weaponery.The Crater that I created on landing repaired itself automatically.
I realised all these existed in a higher dimention.Hence normal humans couldn't percieve it as if the real world existed as a shadow of this world.
I found an android and asked it what is it doing and what is this place.
"I don't know anything I only work on the orders of the Higher Intelligence"
"Take me to the Higher intelligence"
When I went to the Higher Intelligence it recognised me immediately.
"You don't look like a human but I know you are a human who had been experimented on to create a Super Soldier"
"What's going on here?"
"It's a long story.I and this place was created by your ancestors Millions of years ago.Humans used to be a Type 3 civilisation.But they were arrogant.They looked down on species other then themselves.So when they found out about soul energy in living beings,they created containment pods to use other species as batteries and they converted those who have higher soul energy than normal into mind controlled soldiers.The alien species that's hovering above the Earth are the first species that the humans experimented on with this technology.
But something unexpected happend.Among the alien species there was an Alien just like you with abnormally high soul energy.It wrecked havoc on the Humans and saved most of its Species but the humans still escaped.
When they returned they knew the Aliens will come back to take revenge.So they created you humans who look just like them but less intelligent and who reside in a lower lever of existence and cannot perceive the higher level dimensions.Then they copied the soul signature of their own soul energies and attached it to the souls of you lesser humans.
They took all the resources they needed and destroyed all their technological infrastructures around the galaxy.And went to another galaxy.
So when the aliens returned to take revenge,seeing all the destroyed infrastructures they thought your civilization was destroyed by another Type 3 species. Then they found out you humans are not the same higher dimentional being that they fought in the past.But they also found your soul energies matched with those Humans who attacked them. So they thought you are the reincarnations of the previous humans that doesn't even remember what atrocities they have committed.They were angry and horrified at the same time.So you lesser humans are created just as a bait for the Aliens"
I felt betrayed and I was filled with anger.Those advanced Humans what did they think they are.We were just sacrificial pawns to them.The alien species was also used and fooled just like us.I calmed myself and asked the Higher Intelligence:-
"Will you go with me and tell all of this to the Aliens"
He said"Just like you I hate those advanced Humans too.They abandoned me here along with all my precious android fellows to rot away.I will never forgive them"
"Wait are you angry"I asked.
"Yes!!Why??"
"I mean Robots have emotions!!"
"I was created by a Type 3.What do you expect!!"
"Okay Yeah but how did you managed to hide this place cause I guess those aliens up there can also see the advanced technologies of Earth"
"Yes they can but what you think is advanced technology is trash to them"
"Wait the crater just repaired itself some moments ago.How is all this a trash"
"You haven't seen what a Type 3 civilization is like.But the more important question is what are you going to do now"Higher Intelligence asked.
I stood up looked upwards at the Sky as I remembered the quote of Ironman 3 and said:"I will destroy all the Advanced Humans"
__________________________________________________
Thank You for reading the story and if you found any errors feel free to comment down below. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | "Ah shit, here we go again."
A magnificent phrase from a game the humans love. Now it's wormed its way into my brain, such a fitting catchphrase for proceeding to the next life is it not? I could see them panicking above, telling me I dove too deep- too deep for rescue. "We'd only be able to recover your body" they said, such a peculiar culture. Who cares if this vessel is lost? This experience is spectacularly new, a breath of fresh air in the monotony of immortality. I want to experience all the sensations this experience has to offer.
This diving setup was interesting. No air tanks, just hold your breath and go. The humans call this "Freediving" and normally return to the surface rather quickly. They prioritize safety above all else, better to dive again than go too deep and die. Their fear of death is understandable, after all it hurts quite a bit the first few times. They remind me of my own children who feared passing into their next vessel. After a few reincarnations they learned to trust their souls to find their way back to the material plane. Perhaps after seeing me do this, the humans will be willing to broaden their experiences as well.
"Focus" I mutter, tingling sensations emanating from my toes and fingers tell me the moment will soon arrive. Steadily the light around me fades as I continue to swim. Everything is hot despite the frigid water... how is this possible? Gradually my muscles lose their strength and my progress downward slows. Deep enough to sink, so I suppose that will do. Lazily, I turn my gaze to the environment. Most colours were lost. The shelf, a large underwater cliff of sorts, was bathed in shimmering blue light that managed to push its way through hundreds of feet of water. Above me my panicking human friends were mere specks appearing as though surrounded by thousands of fish beneath them. A biological kaleidoscope! I chuckle, releasing bubbles that appeared as beacons in the void. Burning, heat, pain... my time has come. My first death by drowning, how exciting! My body struggles to breath water. "You idiot!" I shout out in amusement, but all that came were bubbles. Water rushes in to fill the void that my breath left behind. This sensation is... horrific, no wonder the humans feared this death. As pain continues to radiate from my lungs I capitulate, my first drowning death will be my last. I close my eyes and embrace the void, with high hopes this pain only lasts a few minutes.
Flash, bright- too bright! I cry out in agony and triumph. I am excited to breathe, not quite sure why. Those memories will return soon enough I suppose.
"Kozi, keep pushing. He's already crying, that's a good sign."
An interesting name for a mother, Kozi is a masculine name. Kozo, on the other hand, seemed more fitting but who am I to judge? Kozi sounds like the human word cozy which is befitting for a mother, I suppose.
"Just like that Kozi, you're doing great"
I cover my face with my hands, the light is too bright. As I breathe, the sensation of air filling my lungs brings to light a very recent memory. I shutter and cry out in fear. That really hurt!
"Is he fresh?" a new voice asks, presumably Kozi. It was always exciting to birth a completely ignorant child, but that is rare. Kozi would have to settle for me.
"Doesn't seem like it," the doctor said. "He has fairly distinct motor control and, well, see for yourself"
The doctor hands me to Kozi. She has surprisingly pretty eyes. I giggle and reach out with my stubby arms for a hug. Kozi smiles, knowing that despite my age I'm still her baby. "How long until he matures?" she asks.
"Just a few days, according to his metabolic activity. He's been through this quite a few times it seems. I bet he has some stories to tell you."
"It would only be polite" I tried to say. Something like "Iwu pi wit" came out instead to Kozi's amusement. My vocal chords had yet to be on par. Despite just coming into existence exhaustion encapsulates my being. The next few days should be a good respite before returning to Earth to visit my human friends.
After a fond farewell to my newest mother, Kozi, I board the next shuttle to Earth. Where were my human friends? It had been about a week since my drowning experience. Chills shoot down my spine at the thought of experiencing that again, hard pass. My next few deaths decidedly will be via clinician, much more pleasant. Alas, at least I can say I went and did it.
The shuttle arrives at a retrofitted airport. Despite no longer needing runways, the tarmac serves as a perfect landing spot for large craft like this one. From here, I would hop in to one of the humans' self driving cars. Assuming my friends have their phones, I can just tell the car to go directly to them. All that remains now is to wait. Perhaps I should conjure a grand tale; rather than falling victim to drowning a great sea monster rose from the depths to snatch me from this world! Oh this is going to be fun.
The car drops me off in front of an ornate gate. Inside the fenced area lie an assortment of carved stones, rather peculiar if you ask me. I decide to have a look around. Since our relationship with the humans is rather fresh, this artistic arrangement hadn't quite reached my ears. Inscribed on the stones are phrases like "Here lies Joe, 2068-2153." I hear some conversations behind a grove of trees and decide to investigate.
"And thus we yearn and pray, that the soul of Schorlan be judged virtuous and true as one of God's children and pass through the gates of heaven. May he rest in peace"
"May he rest in peace" the crowd replied in unison. Their formal garbs of pure black caught my eye. Utterly bizzare, who is this God figure and why is he judging me? Not just that, the speaker knew my name despite me never meeting him. Perhaps this was some sort of theatrical performance the humans do between reincarnations? Unlike this God fellow, I feel no inclination to judge. Life gets boring after a while, you know?
"Joe, my guy- how's it going! What sort of performance is this?"
He looks at me with a hint of disdain. "Have a little respect, won't you mate? My friend died last week. I understand we humans might be a bit weird to you but, surely you know respect right?"
"Well, yeah, people die. Happens all the time, it's not like a celestial mission where you never see your friends again, or at least a few million years."
"The fuck you talkin' about mate? My friend died. He is gone!" Joe's tone shifts to a shaking shout. "I'm never gonna get to dive with him again! The idiot did himself in and I was powerless to stop him, fuck man I failed him and his whole family!"
"Are you talking about me drowning last week?"
"Dude, why you gotta mess with me like this?" Joe calmed down. "That's fuckin' rude man, excuse my language. Go mess with someone else, please." His eyes well up with tears as he turns his gaze to an empty patch of grass.
Perhaps he didn't think I was Schorlan? I looked different, certainly, but I knew who he was and approached him as a friend. Figured he would assume we knew each other and we'd play a little game until he figured out who I am. Somehow my death was significant, like the time my brother embarked on a mission to Andromeda. It would be eons until we meet again. The thought made me very sad. Even so, eventually we would meet again. Perhaps this is what humans mean by heaven, and their reincarnation cycles just take a long time?
I put my hand on Joe's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I was insensitive. Do you remember your past lives at all?"
With a flare of rage Joe slapped my hand off his shoulder. "You lookin' to get your ass kicked man?"
"For pity's sake Joe, it's me Schorlan. You taught me to freedive and all that, breath holding business and how the 'urge to breathe' is a useful but BS term kind of like all the different types of pasta noodles you like to cook"
Joe was taken aback. "How do you know all of that? I don't know you."
"We are friends, Joe. It's me Schorlan."
"Alright, this is still a bit weird- keep going, what else did we talk about."
I guess he is just that dense? He didn't seem so as we got to know each other. "On the boat, we had spamwiches for lunch right?"
"Right." He seemed more focused now.
"You kept offering me condiments but I was content with the peculiar salty flavor of the spam."
His gaze met mine with fierce contemplation.
"We got to the site and I was enamored with freediving, then after a couple hours I decided to go straight down as far as possible."
"Don't remind me." Joe's tone shifted to grave somber, "What could you possibly know about that."
"Joe, it's me Schorlan. I figured it would take a little bit for you to recognize me but, in all honesty it really is me. I'm not messing with you."
"So what, did you aliens figure out how to upload your consciousness to a computer or some shit, and get spit out as a clone?"
"Why would you need to do that if you can just reincarnate?"
"The wha- like Hinduism or what?"
"Not sure what Hinduism is but, yeah I guess."
Joe put his hand on my shoulder, more for his support than my comfort. He seems like he's about to collapse.
"Fuck me man, you're immortal?"
"Yes"
"Do you realize that we aren't?" | "We create our own demons"-Although I watched Ironman 3 many times I never took this seriously untill that day but let's start from the beginning.
5 yrs ago strange alien warships suddenly appeared above the sky out of nowhere and declared war on us.We tried to fight back but they were a Type 3 civilization hence our weapons were nothing but toys to them.They even modified their own biological structure which made their bodies so strong and resistant that even nuclear wespons couldn't leave a scratch.
Hence we were captured.When we asked what they wanted from us they said they had created a technology that can convert human into living batteries which can used for millions of years as they have tremendous amount of energy.
So they captured all of us.Most of us were put into containers of sophisticated technology and the containers by some process extracted energy from the human bodies.Some of us were sent to undergo experiments for creating mind controlled super soldiers.I was one of them.
The experiment was hellish.They bombarded us with some kind of energy beam and then threw us into our cells.But the real hell was the after effects of the bombardment.My body started swelling like a balloon which felt like every part of my body was being ripped apart and then on the verge of exploding it suddenly went back to normal.But that wasn't the end.Then my body started glowing and the temperature increased to such high level that it felt like I was being burned alive.And then again my body was back to normal.But it started swelling again and then glowing and the cycle continued for a long time.The pain was excruciating so I passed out.
When I woke up I was surprised that I understood what they were saying but I realised it was telepathy.They used telepathy to communicate and for some reason I was able to do it too.
The Alien Scientist explained that I was a successful experiment.And I had evolved into a higher dimentional being.When I asked how was this possible he explained that all living beings have something called souls but it resides in a higher dimention and is connected to the real body.It is a tremendously powerful source of energy.They found a way to extract soul energy from humans by using those containment pods.Some humans whose souls have more energy than normal are sent for experiments to become mind controlled Soldiers but I was even different from them.My soul energy was extremely higher than the others and that I could become so powerful that I could change the tide of a battle between Type C civilizations.The experiments were done on me to restructure or evolve my body into that of a higher dimensional being so that I could access my soul energy.
"Do you aliens not even feel anything even though you are also living beings like us"I asked.
The alien seemed confused after listening to my question.
"You, a human is saying that.Did you forget everything?"
"What?"
"Well I guess you did so let me give you a hint.The civilization that created this cruel process of energy extraction are you HUMANS!"
I was shocked.How was that even possible.A species that hasn't even left its own planet created this.No way.This destroyed my mental balance.I thought the alien was mocking me.I got very angry and unknowingly I increased my power output to a very high level which resulted in the destruction of that chamber that was supposed to hold me.Too much energy.
Seeing this the alien said in a fascinated manner as if I was just an object to it:-"Yes .....I knew this chamber wouldn't hold you after all it can only hold the energy of a 1252 stars at most"
I wanted to kill him but I couldn't.I guess the human part was still there.The scientist tried to capture me but I escaped.When I couldn't find an exit I destroyed the wall of the warship and jumped towards Earth.I knew they hadn't left Earth.I could sense it.
I landed on Earth with a bang and created a crater on the place where I landed.But when I looked up I was shocked.Now Earth looked like a completely different place.Earth was filled with advanced technological buildings and weaponery.The Crater that I created on landing repaired itself automatically.
I realised all these existed in a higher dimention.Hence normal humans couldn't percieve it as if the real world existed as a shadow of this world.
I found an android and asked it what is it doing and what is this place.
"I don't know anything I only work on the orders of the Higher Intelligence"
"Take me to the Higher intelligence"
When I went to the Higher Intelligence it recognised me immediately.
"You don't look like a human but I know you are a human who had been experimented on to create a Super Soldier"
"What's going on here?"
"It's a long story.I and this place was created by your ancestors Millions of years ago.Humans used to be a Type 3 civilisation.But they were arrogant.They looked down on species other then themselves.So when they found out about soul energy in living beings,they created containment pods to use other species as batteries and they converted those who have higher soul energy than normal into mind controlled soldiers.The alien species that's hovering above the Earth are the first species that the humans experimented on with this technology.
But something unexpected happend.Among the alien species there was an Alien just like you with abnormally high soul energy.It wrecked havoc on the Humans and saved most of its Species but the humans still escaped.
When they returned they knew the Aliens will come back to take revenge.So they created you humans who look just like them but less intelligent and who reside in a lower lever of existence and cannot perceive the higher level dimensions.Then they copied the soul signature of their own soul energies and attached it to the souls of you lesser humans.
They took all the resources they needed and destroyed all their technological infrastructures around the galaxy.And went to another galaxy.
So when the aliens returned to take revenge,seeing all the destroyed infrastructures they thought your civilization was destroyed by another Type 3 species. Then they found out you humans are not the same higher dimentional being that they fought in the past.But they also found your soul energies matched with those Humans who attacked them. So they thought you are the reincarnations of the previous humans that doesn't even remember what atrocities they have committed.They were angry and horrified at the same time.So you lesser humans are created just as a bait for the Aliens"
I felt betrayed and I was filled with anger.Those advanced Humans what did they think they are.We were just sacrificial pawns to them.The alien species was also used and fooled just like us.I calmed myself and asked the Higher Intelligence:-
"Will you go with me and tell all of this to the Aliens"
He said"Just like you I hate those advanced Humans too.They abandoned me here along with all my precious android fellows to rot away.I will never forgive them"
"Wait are you angry"I asked.
"Yes!!Why??"
"I mean Robots have emotions!!"
"I was created by a Type 3.What do you expect!!"
"Okay Yeah but how did you managed to hide this place cause I guess those aliens up there can also see the advanced technologies of Earth"
"Yes they can but what you think is advanced technology is trash to them"
"Wait the crater just repaired itself some moments ago.How is all this a trash"
"You haven't seen what a Type 3 civilization is like.But the more important question is what are you going to do now"Higher Intelligence asked.
I stood up looked upwards at the Sky as I remembered the quote of Ironman 3 and said:"I will destroy all the Advanced Humans"
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Thank You for reading the story and if you found any errors feel free to comment down below. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | It was hard, the first time Keera died.
It was a car accident. Just one of those ordinary, everyday destroyers of human life that most of us prefer not to think about. A random tragedy. Not quite as tragic, however, in Keera’s case. An accident like that could end a human life in an instant, but of course, Keera wasn’t human. She was Sami. And because of that, her life had not truly been ended.
This great difference between our two species has caused no end of trouble when humanity had first encountered the Sami. A colony ship headed for an earth-like planet was destroyed without a word. As it turned out, the planet was not only habitable, it was inhabited. As Earth scrambled to build up its defenses in case of an attack, we sent a probe to try to find out more about the enemy. A few months after it arrived, they sent it back, with one of their communication devices stuffed inside where the sensors and batteries used to be.
The Sami were horrified to learn that they had ended nearly a thousand lives when they had destroyed that ship. From their perspective death was merely an inconvenience, so their planetary defense cannons were the interstellar equivalent of a barbed wire fence. It would stop you from getting in, painfully, but with no real harm done. But of course, humans aren’t like Sami. One life. That’s all we get.
I was intensely uncomfortable the first time I met Keera as a child. She was technically still my girlfriend, after all. She behaved as though the whole thing were completely natural, though I suppose for her it *was* completely natural. Fortunately, Sami didn’t mature nearly as slowly as humans did. In a little over a year she was an adult again, and we picked up right where we left off. She had chosen the same body as last time. While not unusual, a part of me wondered if it was for my benefit. I don’t know how I would have reacted if she had come back looking completely different, or even as a different sex. Sami didn’t care about that sort of thing as much as humans did.
As we spent more and more of our time together, I knew I was falling in love with her. Her beautiful amber eyes, her smooth pitch-black skin, and most of all her laugh, a rising trill that never failed to bring a smile to my face. We did get some nasty looks on occasion. Our relationship was considered a bit unusual back then. Many humans viewed being with an alien as something akin to bestiality, and most Sami simply didn’t find humans very attractive, especially pale ones like me. But Keera never cared what anyone thought. She was always unapologetically herself, which of course only made me love her more.
For a time I considered asking her to marry me, until I learned that Sami didn’t really *do* marriage. I guess “‘Til death do us part” seems a bit arbitrary to them. People often grow apart over time, and given that most human marriages don’t last a lifetime, imagine trying to maintain one for hundreds of years. It wasn’t hard to be content with what I had, though. I loved Keera, and she loved me, and that was enough.
The second time she died was easier. She passed quietly in her sleep, with me right beside her. Sami only lived about 30 years before their bodies started to shut down, and given that they could simply start anew, most chose euthanasia once age started taking its toll. I held her hand as she died, and soon enough she was back, although I had to do all the cooking for a while, given that she couldn’t see over the stove. She told me she wouldn’t mind if I found another partner for, uh. . .’physical activity’. . .until she was mature again, but I couldn’t bear to take her up on the offer. Not like I had many women beating down my door anyway. The search alone would have been exhausting.
Eventually we bought a small house in Colorado, near where I grew up. Keera loved the mountains. Her planet didn’t have any. Not like Earth, anyway. I often wondered about visiting her planet, but the journey was long, and Keera said that she had no reason to go back. That everyone she cared about was right here. That always made me a bit sad, but it didn’t seem to bother her.
She became a photographer, fascinated by the old black and white film that some artists still used. Made decent money at it, too. People loved the idea of seeing Earth through alien eyes. I continued on with my boring government job, though I did get a promotion or two over the years. Truth was I took more pride in her work than in my own, spending hours combing through her latest photos, picking a favorite, and surprising her by having it framed up on the wall when she returned from one of her adventures.
Occasionally I would travel with her. I took her on a grand tour through a crusader castle I remembered from my semester abroad back in college, although I think I ruined the mood when she asked why it had been built, and I explained. The idea of death—real death, not the Sami kind—still bothered her a lot, and she was especially bothered by war. She couldn’t fathom how humans could so easily end each other’s lives that way. Our trip to Seoul was far more joyful. She led me by the hand through the narrow streets, showing me all the most wonderful places she’d found on her previous trip, trilling with laughter every time I tried a new food and hated it. I had always been a picky eater.
We kissed under the Eiffel Tower. Then she set up her camera and tripod and we did it again. It was perhaps the only photo she ever took that could be called cliche, but it was also my favorite. I framed it and put it on my nightstand. Whenever she was away, I would gaze at it longingly until I fell asleep. I always slept better after that.
Time seemed to pass by faster and faster, until I had been with her for nearly two entire lifetimes, and nearly all of mine. Now it was her turn to sit by the bed, holding my hand. Tears trailed down her face, and my heart broke for her. I was painfully familiar with loss, but losing a loved one to death was a tragedy few Sami had ever experienced. With great effort, I slowly lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it, gazing into her eyes with a small smile. Then I nodded at the doctor.
“I love you,” she said. “Forever.”
And as I drifted off to sleep, I felt like I understood the true meaning of that word for the first time.
Forever. | "We create our own demons"-Although I watched Ironman 3 many times I never took this seriously untill that day but let's start from the beginning.
5 yrs ago strange alien warships suddenly appeared above the sky out of nowhere and declared war on us.We tried to fight back but they were a Type 3 civilization hence our weapons were nothing but toys to them.They even modified their own biological structure which made their bodies so strong and resistant that even nuclear wespons couldn't leave a scratch.
Hence we were captured.When we asked what they wanted from us they said they had created a technology that can convert human into living batteries which can used for millions of years as they have tremendous amount of energy.
So they captured all of us.Most of us were put into containers of sophisticated technology and the containers by some process extracted energy from the human bodies.Some of us were sent to undergo experiments for creating mind controlled super soldiers.I was one of them.
The experiment was hellish.They bombarded us with some kind of energy beam and then threw us into our cells.But the real hell was the after effects of the bombardment.My body started swelling like a balloon which felt like every part of my body was being ripped apart and then on the verge of exploding it suddenly went back to normal.But that wasn't the end.Then my body started glowing and the temperature increased to such high level that it felt like I was being burned alive.And then again my body was back to normal.But it started swelling again and then glowing and the cycle continued for a long time.The pain was excruciating so I passed out.
When I woke up I was surprised that I understood what they were saying but I realised it was telepathy.They used telepathy to communicate and for some reason I was able to do it too.
The Alien Scientist explained that I was a successful experiment.And I had evolved into a higher dimentional being.When I asked how was this possible he explained that all living beings have something called souls but it resides in a higher dimention and is connected to the real body.It is a tremendously powerful source of energy.They found a way to extract soul energy from humans by using those containment pods.Some humans whose souls have more energy than normal are sent for experiments to become mind controlled Soldiers but I was even different from them.My soul energy was extremely higher than the others and that I could become so powerful that I could change the tide of a battle between Type C civilizations.The experiments were done on me to restructure or evolve my body into that of a higher dimensional being so that I could access my soul energy.
"Do you aliens not even feel anything even though you are also living beings like us"I asked.
The alien seemed confused after listening to my question.
"You, a human is saying that.Did you forget everything?"
"What?"
"Well I guess you did so let me give you a hint.The civilization that created this cruel process of energy extraction are you HUMANS!"
I was shocked.How was that even possible.A species that hasn't even left its own planet created this.No way.This destroyed my mental balance.I thought the alien was mocking me.I got very angry and unknowingly I increased my power output to a very high level which resulted in the destruction of that chamber that was supposed to hold me.Too much energy.
Seeing this the alien said in a fascinated manner as if I was just an object to it:-"Yes .....I knew this chamber wouldn't hold you after all it can only hold the energy of a 1252 stars at most"
I wanted to kill him but I couldn't.I guess the human part was still there.The scientist tried to capture me but I escaped.When I couldn't find an exit I destroyed the wall of the warship and jumped towards Earth.I knew they hadn't left Earth.I could sense it.
I landed on Earth with a bang and created a crater on the place where I landed.But when I looked up I was shocked.Now Earth looked like a completely different place.Earth was filled with advanced technological buildings and weaponery.The Crater that I created on landing repaired itself automatically.
I realised all these existed in a higher dimention.Hence normal humans couldn't percieve it as if the real world existed as a shadow of this world.
I found an android and asked it what is it doing and what is this place.
"I don't know anything I only work on the orders of the Higher Intelligence"
"Take me to the Higher intelligence"
When I went to the Higher Intelligence it recognised me immediately.
"You don't look like a human but I know you are a human who had been experimented on to create a Super Soldier"
"What's going on here?"
"It's a long story.I and this place was created by your ancestors Millions of years ago.Humans used to be a Type 3 civilisation.But they were arrogant.They looked down on species other then themselves.So when they found out about soul energy in living beings,they created containment pods to use other species as batteries and they converted those who have higher soul energy than normal into mind controlled soldiers.The alien species that's hovering above the Earth are the first species that the humans experimented on with this technology.
But something unexpected happend.Among the alien species there was an Alien just like you with abnormally high soul energy.It wrecked havoc on the Humans and saved most of its Species but the humans still escaped.
When they returned they knew the Aliens will come back to take revenge.So they created you humans who look just like them but less intelligent and who reside in a lower lever of existence and cannot perceive the higher level dimensions.Then they copied the soul signature of their own soul energies and attached it to the souls of you lesser humans.
They took all the resources they needed and destroyed all their technological infrastructures around the galaxy.And went to another galaxy.
So when the aliens returned to take revenge,seeing all the destroyed infrastructures they thought your civilization was destroyed by another Type 3 species. Then they found out you humans are not the same higher dimentional being that they fought in the past.But they also found your soul energies matched with those Humans who attacked them. So they thought you are the reincarnations of the previous humans that doesn't even remember what atrocities they have committed.They were angry and horrified at the same time.So you lesser humans are created just as a bait for the Aliens"
I felt betrayed and I was filled with anger.Those advanced Humans what did they think they are.We were just sacrificial pawns to them.The alien species was also used and fooled just like us.I calmed myself and asked the Higher Intelligence:-
"Will you go with me and tell all of this to the Aliens"
He said"Just like you I hate those advanced Humans too.They abandoned me here along with all my precious android fellows to rot away.I will never forgive them"
"Wait are you angry"I asked.
"Yes!!Why??"
"I mean Robots have emotions!!"
"I was created by a Type 3.What do you expect!!"
"Okay Yeah but how did you managed to hide this place cause I guess those aliens up there can also see the advanced technologies of Earth"
"Yes they can but what you think is advanced technology is trash to them"
"Wait the crater just repaired itself some moments ago.How is all this a trash"
"You haven't seen what a Type 3 civilization is like.But the more important question is what are you going to do now"Higher Intelligence asked.
I stood up looked upwards at the Sky as I remembered the quote of Ironman 3 and said:"I will destroy all the Advanced Humans"
__________________________________________________
Thank You for reading the story and if you found any errors feel free to comment down below. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | These meetings were beginning to feel stale. Talk after talk after talk in foreign tongues both of and out of this world. The UN ambassadors were tired. The alien lifeforms that had landed on earth almost a decade ago were still wide eyed and confused.
The leader of the alien group stood at the podium in the center of the auditorium. It leaned in closer to the microphone and clicked out a few words in its own language before switching to English, "Please. One more time."
The UK ambassador groaned but turned on his microphone anyway, "As per the cease fire, you are not to harm another human on this planet. You are not doing us a service at all. Death is not fun or exciting."
The leader looked to its companions. They exchanged a few, low words before it turned back to the microphone, "But people die all the time here. A lot by their own hand according to the numbers."
A ripple slid over the room. An ambassador from Brazil leaned in, "Yes, but they are not usually looked upon as heroes. What you have done to us changes nothing except to thin out our numbers."
The ambassador from South Korea piped up, "True. Almost like you wish to take over the planet for yourselves."
The three aliens bristled at the overused accusation. The leader leaned in again, "We have stated before how that was not our intent. We believed we were helping you. Our species is not the only one in the galaxies who remembers past lives. We always thought we were doing you a kind service."
"A kind service in what, exactly? Torture?"
The leader looked horrified. "Peace," it said softly.
The UN members looked to one another in confusion. The Canadian ambassador spoke next, "Peace? What does remembering our past lives do to usher in peace?"
The leader held up a hand in a gesture of pause. It gathered with its two companions to put their heads together and discuss in their native tongue the semantics. The second in command seemed mildly heated in tone but since humans had yet to really grasp the foreign vocabulary, none could figure out what was said.
Finally, the leader turned back to the microphone, "You have war, correct? You have people starving? Tortured at your own hands? Arguments over religion, land, resources? If you die on our planet, you remember who you were, who loved you, what you believed in. It didn't matter where you were born to next. It gave you, I believe you call it, empathy. You could feel what the others who are not like you now felt if you had lived a life similar in the past. We do not have war and famine."
"But mass genocide of another species on a planet far from your own seemed like a good idea?" asked the ambassador from South Africa.
The leader hung his head, "I must admit, we misjudged this planet. Our equivalent of scientists gave us the data, like they have for other planets. We had not been wrong yet and we have saved so many other planets in the process."
"We will need evidence of that," said the ambassador from Germany. "But, for now, I believe these talks are getting us nowhere."
A few words of agreement rose from those seated. The UN foreperson walked onto the dias and shook the three aliens' hands before taking the microphone herself, "We will reconvene another time once we all have this evidence in our possession and we are able to confirm what our visitors have told us here today. For now, please get some rest."
She looked over to the guards who were coming in from the hallway. They reshackled the aliens at the wrists and, at baton point, guided the guests from the room. | "We create our own demons"-Although I watched Ironman 3 many times I never took this seriously untill that day but let's start from the beginning.
5 yrs ago strange alien warships suddenly appeared above the sky out of nowhere and declared war on us.We tried to fight back but they were a Type 3 civilization hence our weapons were nothing but toys to them.They even modified their own biological structure which made their bodies so strong and resistant that even nuclear wespons couldn't leave a scratch.
Hence we were captured.When we asked what they wanted from us they said they had created a technology that can convert human into living batteries which can used for millions of years as they have tremendous amount of energy.
So they captured all of us.Most of us were put into containers of sophisticated technology and the containers by some process extracted energy from the human bodies.Some of us were sent to undergo experiments for creating mind controlled super soldiers.I was one of them.
The experiment was hellish.They bombarded us with some kind of energy beam and then threw us into our cells.But the real hell was the after effects of the bombardment.My body started swelling like a balloon which felt like every part of my body was being ripped apart and then on the verge of exploding it suddenly went back to normal.But that wasn't the end.Then my body started glowing and the temperature increased to such high level that it felt like I was being burned alive.And then again my body was back to normal.But it started swelling again and then glowing and the cycle continued for a long time.The pain was excruciating so I passed out.
When I woke up I was surprised that I understood what they were saying but I realised it was telepathy.They used telepathy to communicate and for some reason I was able to do it too.
The Alien Scientist explained that I was a successful experiment.And I had evolved into a higher dimentional being.When I asked how was this possible he explained that all living beings have something called souls but it resides in a higher dimention and is connected to the real body.It is a tremendously powerful source of energy.They found a way to extract soul energy from humans by using those containment pods.Some humans whose souls have more energy than normal are sent for experiments to become mind controlled Soldiers but I was even different from them.My soul energy was extremely higher than the others and that I could become so powerful that I could change the tide of a battle between Type C civilizations.The experiments were done on me to restructure or evolve my body into that of a higher dimensional being so that I could access my soul energy.
"Do you aliens not even feel anything even though you are also living beings like us"I asked.
The alien seemed confused after listening to my question.
"You, a human is saying that.Did you forget everything?"
"What?"
"Well I guess you did so let me give you a hint.The civilization that created this cruel process of energy extraction are you HUMANS!"
I was shocked.How was that even possible.A species that hasn't even left its own planet created this.No way.This destroyed my mental balance.I thought the alien was mocking me.I got very angry and unknowingly I increased my power output to a very high level which resulted in the destruction of that chamber that was supposed to hold me.Too much energy.
Seeing this the alien said in a fascinated manner as if I was just an object to it:-"Yes .....I knew this chamber wouldn't hold you after all it can only hold the energy of a 1252 stars at most"
I wanted to kill him but I couldn't.I guess the human part was still there.The scientist tried to capture me but I escaped.When I couldn't find an exit I destroyed the wall of the warship and jumped towards Earth.I knew they hadn't left Earth.I could sense it.
I landed on Earth with a bang and created a crater on the place where I landed.But when I looked up I was shocked.Now Earth looked like a completely different place.Earth was filled with advanced technological buildings and weaponery.The Crater that I created on landing repaired itself automatically.
I realised all these existed in a higher dimention.Hence normal humans couldn't percieve it as if the real world existed as a shadow of this world.
I found an android and asked it what is it doing and what is this place.
"I don't know anything I only work on the orders of the Higher Intelligence"
"Take me to the Higher intelligence"
When I went to the Higher Intelligence it recognised me immediately.
"You don't look like a human but I know you are a human who had been experimented on to create a Super Soldier"
"What's going on here?"
"It's a long story.I and this place was created by your ancestors Millions of years ago.Humans used to be a Type 3 civilisation.But they were arrogant.They looked down on species other then themselves.So when they found out about soul energy in living beings,they created containment pods to use other species as batteries and they converted those who have higher soul energy than normal into mind controlled soldiers.The alien species that's hovering above the Earth are the first species that the humans experimented on with this technology.
But something unexpected happend.Among the alien species there was an Alien just like you with abnormally high soul energy.It wrecked havoc on the Humans and saved most of its Species but the humans still escaped.
When they returned they knew the Aliens will come back to take revenge.So they created you humans who look just like them but less intelligent and who reside in a lower lever of existence and cannot perceive the higher level dimensions.Then they copied the soul signature of their own soul energies and attached it to the souls of you lesser humans.
They took all the resources they needed and destroyed all their technological infrastructures around the galaxy.And went to another galaxy.
So when the aliens returned to take revenge,seeing all the destroyed infrastructures they thought your civilization was destroyed by another Type 3 species. Then they found out you humans are not the same higher dimentional being that they fought in the past.But they also found your soul energies matched with those Humans who attacked them. So they thought you are the reincarnations of the previous humans that doesn't even remember what atrocities they have committed.They were angry and horrified at the same time.So you lesser humans are created just as a bait for the Aliens"
I felt betrayed and I was filled with anger.Those advanced Humans what did they think they are.We were just sacrificial pawns to them.The alien species was also used and fooled just like us.I calmed myself and asked the Higher Intelligence:-
"Will you go with me and tell all of this to the Aliens"
He said"Just like you I hate those advanced Humans too.They abandoned me here along with all my precious android fellows to rot away.I will never forgive them"
"Wait are you angry"I asked.
"Yes!!Why??"
"I mean Robots have emotions!!"
"I was created by a Type 3.What do you expect!!"
"Okay Yeah but how did you managed to hide this place cause I guess those aliens up there can also see the advanced technologies of Earth"
"Yes they can but what you think is advanced technology is trash to them"
"Wait the crater just repaired itself some moments ago.How is all this a trash"
"You haven't seen what a Type 3 civilization is like.But the more important question is what are you going to do now"Higher Intelligence asked.
I stood up looked upwards at the Sky as I remembered the quote of Ironman 3 and said:"I will destroy all the Advanced Humans"
__________________________________________________
Thank You for reading the story and if you found any errors feel free to comment down below. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | I woke up remembering the horrific night before. The sound of steel scraping through the air, pulses of weapons firing into the town. I saw old Frank's car from across the road explode into a ball of fire. I think Frank was in his car.
Then I saw one of them. Two huge insect like legs, four arms and eyes, so many eyes. I tried to hide but it was too late, it ran at me putting some kind of restraints on my wrists. My vision turned bright blue and my surroundings changed to that of the inside of a metal room. I passed out.
Now here I am, not quite sure how to escape my fate. The door looks to be made of several strong lasers. Whoever these aliens are they are way more advanced than us. The room has a few crates with writing nothing like I'd ever seen.
I hear a noise from outside the room. Two of the creatures are walking towards me. One takes out a ring of keys and fumbles with opening the door.
Then I hear in perfect English.
"Urgh not like that, you will get it next time"
The alien takes out a pistol and shoots the other one in the head, grabs the keys and opens the door. The now dead insect is on the ground, green blood oozing from the hole in his temple. I suppress the urge to vomit and look at the alive alien terrified.
"Don't just stand there staring, come with me. The captain wants speak with you"
I follow, not daring to do anything that this insecticidal alien would deem as offensive.
We walk quickly and I'm lead into a room with chairs facing towards a massive window. As we enter a very large insect looks at us.
"Excellent you brought the human here. Take his restraints off. He is a guest on my ship"
Looking around I just figured out where I am. I'm on the bridge of an alien spaceship, looking out towards the earth and I'm trying to not piss my pants.
The captain speaks again "I had you brought you here because I understand you are what they call a 'News Anchor'. You seem to be able to speak to a large amount of your kind at once."
I nod, unsure about what they are going to be making me do, knowing it can't be any good. The captain continues "We understand that your planet has grown quite old, I hope you don't mind us helping out."
"Excuse me?" I almost squeak.
"I hope you don't mind us culling your weak and elderly populations so that your planet may thrive!" the captain bellows out. "I understand that on planets such as your own, creatures get attached to their current vessels, but it does weaken the herd does it not?"
Oh great, I've just met insect Hitler. I find some courage to speak "We as a planet have had thoughts like yours before. However we ultimately decided that human lives are worth more than the overall strength of our species"
I can't believe I just told insect Hitler that he is wrong.
"But you are reborn are you not?" the captain says inquisitively.
"No we just die. Our people mourn and we move on" I just told insect Hitler that he can wipe out our planet. I look at him terrified at what he is going to do in response. But instead he is the one that looks terrified.
"Call the science department up here right now" The captain says with almost a stutter.
We stand there in silence. A few minutes later 3 insects in lab coats come running in.
the captain barks "If a species of alien doesn't get reborn, what happens when we shoot them?"
"They die" The first scientist says.
"That is what I feared" replies the captain as he shoots the scientist in the head.
Why. Why did he have to do that. The aliens look on as if nothing changed.
The captain yells at the room "Send a communication out to all ships to immediately stop culling all humans and send the top diplomats from our fleet to this ship."
The room went into a flurry of movement.
The captain sighed "I really cant be bothered dealing with the fallout from this. Drop this human home and open one of the captain crates from storage."
The captain shoots himself in the head. | They used to call us friends, but that was before we left. Now as we have returned we see their terrified faces. We did not want to go but we had to, just for a while and they knew that. Now they seem to have forgotten us and lost their gift, unable to tell what lies behind the dark veil of death.
We, "aliens", as the humans call us, can see and always been able to see what lies ahead and what has been. Nothing is forgotten as long as our species survive but even then our knowledge will not be lost.
I feel so terribly sorry for them, what horror could they not be experiencing knowing that the end of their existance is calmly, or not calmly, marching for them. That is the scary part.
On the one hand i wish i knew what it felt like, i want to know what it is like to walk around knowing that the next step i take could be the last i ever take. Not getting to emerge from the lifeless corpse i'd been calling mine, to then accelerate smoothly into the universe to find a new vessel to call mine. But on the other hand, what is a drop in the sea or an asteroid in space anyways as it is so small? What difference could a single organism make? The impact would be insignificant in the long run.
Maybe that is why they feel the need to save everyone that they can amongst them, to get that little extra impact from every last one of them as to not waste any potential. Not knowing that nothing can just dissapear and they will just keep returning to a new human body.
The shock we recieved when we came back and realised that they have lost their link to the universe, the only thing that could give a genuine meaning to this place. These creatures are lost without knowing it, but i will find a way to get them back. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | "Ah shit, here we go again."
A magnificent phrase from a game the humans love. Now it's wormed its way into my brain, such a fitting catchphrase for proceeding to the next life is it not? I could see them panicking above, telling me I dove too deep- too deep for rescue. "We'd only be able to recover your body" they said, such a peculiar culture. Who cares if this vessel is lost? This experience is spectacularly new, a breath of fresh air in the monotony of immortality. I want to experience all the sensations this experience has to offer.
This diving setup was interesting. No air tanks, just hold your breath and go. The humans call this "Freediving" and normally return to the surface rather quickly. They prioritize safety above all else, better to dive again than go too deep and die. Their fear of death is understandable, after all it hurts quite a bit the first few times. They remind me of my own children who feared passing into their next vessel. After a few reincarnations they learned to trust their souls to find their way back to the material plane. Perhaps after seeing me do this, the humans will be willing to broaden their experiences as well.
"Focus" I mutter, tingling sensations emanating from my toes and fingers tell me the moment will soon arrive. Steadily the light around me fades as I continue to swim. Everything is hot despite the frigid water... how is this possible? Gradually my muscles lose their strength and my progress downward slows. Deep enough to sink, so I suppose that will do. Lazily, I turn my gaze to the environment. Most colours were lost. The shelf, a large underwater cliff of sorts, was bathed in shimmering blue light that managed to push its way through hundreds of feet of water. Above me my panicking human friends were mere specks appearing as though surrounded by thousands of fish beneath them. A biological kaleidoscope! I chuckle, releasing bubbles that appeared as beacons in the void. Burning, heat, pain... my time has come. My first death by drowning, how exciting! My body struggles to breath water. "You idiot!" I shout out in amusement, but all that came were bubbles. Water rushes in to fill the void that my breath left behind. This sensation is... horrific, no wonder the humans feared this death. As pain continues to radiate from my lungs I capitulate, my first drowning death will be my last. I close my eyes and embrace the void, with high hopes this pain only lasts a few minutes.
Flash, bright- too bright! I cry out in agony and triumph. I am excited to breathe, not quite sure why. Those memories will return soon enough I suppose.
"Kozi, keep pushing. He's already crying, that's a good sign."
An interesting name for a mother, Kozi is a masculine name. Kozo, on the other hand, seemed more fitting but who am I to judge? Kozi sounds like the human word cozy which is befitting for a mother, I suppose.
"Just like that Kozi, you're doing great"
I cover my face with my hands, the light is too bright. As I breathe, the sensation of air filling my lungs brings to light a very recent memory. I shutter and cry out in fear. That really hurt!
"Is he fresh?" a new voice asks, presumably Kozi. It was always exciting to birth a completely ignorant child, but that is rare. Kozi would have to settle for me.
"Doesn't seem like it," the doctor said. "He has fairly distinct motor control and, well, see for yourself"
The doctor hands me to Kozi. She has surprisingly pretty eyes. I giggle and reach out with my stubby arms for a hug. Kozi smiles, knowing that despite my age I'm still her baby. "How long until he matures?" she asks.
"Just a few days, according to his metabolic activity. He's been through this quite a few times it seems. I bet he has some stories to tell you."
"It would only be polite" I tried to say. Something like "Iwu pi wit" came out instead to Kozi's amusement. My vocal chords had yet to be on par. Despite just coming into existence exhaustion encapsulates my being. The next few days should be a good respite before returning to Earth to visit my human friends.
After a fond farewell to my newest mother, Kozi, I board the next shuttle to Earth. Where were my human friends? It had been about a week since my drowning experience. Chills shoot down my spine at the thought of experiencing that again, hard pass. My next few deaths decidedly will be via clinician, much more pleasant. Alas, at least I can say I went and did it.
The shuttle arrives at a retrofitted airport. Despite no longer needing runways, the tarmac serves as a perfect landing spot for large craft like this one. From here, I would hop in to one of the humans' self driving cars. Assuming my friends have their phones, I can just tell the car to go directly to them. All that remains now is to wait. Perhaps I should conjure a grand tale; rather than falling victim to drowning a great sea monster rose from the depths to snatch me from this world! Oh this is going to be fun.
The car drops me off in front of an ornate gate. Inside the fenced area lie an assortment of carved stones, rather peculiar if you ask me. I decide to have a look around. Since our relationship with the humans is rather fresh, this artistic arrangement hadn't quite reached my ears. Inscribed on the stones are phrases like "Here lies Joe, 2068-2153." I hear some conversations behind a grove of trees and decide to investigate.
"And thus we yearn and pray, that the soul of Schorlan be judged virtuous and true as one of God's children and pass through the gates of heaven. May he rest in peace"
"May he rest in peace" the crowd replied in unison. Their formal garbs of pure black caught my eye. Utterly bizzare, who is this God figure and why is he judging me? Not just that, the speaker knew my name despite me never meeting him. Perhaps this was some sort of theatrical performance the humans do between reincarnations? Unlike this God fellow, I feel no inclination to judge. Life gets boring after a while, you know?
"Joe, my guy- how's it going! What sort of performance is this?"
He looks at me with a hint of disdain. "Have a little respect, won't you mate? My friend died last week. I understand we humans might be a bit weird to you but, surely you know respect right?"
"Well, yeah, people die. Happens all the time, it's not like a celestial mission where you never see your friends again, or at least a few million years."
"The fuck you talkin' about mate? My friend died. He is gone!" Joe's tone shifts to a shaking shout. "I'm never gonna get to dive with him again! The idiot did himself in and I was powerless to stop him, fuck man I failed him and his whole family!"
"Are you talking about me drowning last week?"
"Dude, why you gotta mess with me like this?" Joe calmed down. "That's fuckin' rude man, excuse my language. Go mess with someone else, please." His eyes well up with tears as he turns his gaze to an empty patch of grass.
Perhaps he didn't think I was Schorlan? I looked different, certainly, but I knew who he was and approached him as a friend. Figured he would assume we knew each other and we'd play a little game until he figured out who I am. Somehow my death was significant, like the time my brother embarked on a mission to Andromeda. It would be eons until we meet again. The thought made me very sad. Even so, eventually we would meet again. Perhaps this is what humans mean by heaven, and their reincarnation cycles just take a long time?
I put my hand on Joe's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I was insensitive. Do you remember your past lives at all?"
With a flare of rage Joe slapped my hand off his shoulder. "You lookin' to get your ass kicked man?"
"For pity's sake Joe, it's me Schorlan. You taught me to freedive and all that, breath holding business and how the 'urge to breathe' is a useful but BS term kind of like all the different types of pasta noodles you like to cook"
Joe was taken aback. "How do you know all of that? I don't know you."
"We are friends, Joe. It's me Schorlan."
"Alright, this is still a bit weird- keep going, what else did we talk about."
I guess he is just that dense? He didn't seem so as we got to know each other. "On the boat, we had spamwiches for lunch right?"
"Right." He seemed more focused now.
"You kept offering me condiments but I was content with the peculiar salty flavor of the spam."
His gaze met mine with fierce contemplation.
"We got to the site and I was enamored with freediving, then after a couple hours I decided to go straight down as far as possible."
"Don't remind me." Joe's tone shifted to grave somber, "What could you possibly know about that."
"Joe, it's me Schorlan. I figured it would take a little bit for you to recognize me but, in all honesty it really is me. I'm not messing with you."
"So what, did you aliens figure out how to upload your consciousness to a computer or some shit, and get spit out as a clone?"
"Why would you need to do that if you can just reincarnate?"
"The wha- like Hinduism or what?"
"Not sure what Hinduism is but, yeah I guess."
Joe put his hand on my shoulder, more for his support than my comfort. He seems like he's about to collapse.
"Fuck me man, you're immortal?"
"Yes"
"Do you realize that we aren't?" | They used to call us friends, but that was before we left. Now as we have returned we see their terrified faces. We did not want to go but we had to, just for a while and they knew that. Now they seem to have forgotten us and lost their gift, unable to tell what lies behind the dark veil of death.
We, "aliens", as the humans call us, can see and always been able to see what lies ahead and what has been. Nothing is forgotten as long as our species survive but even then our knowledge will not be lost.
I feel so terribly sorry for them, what horror could they not be experiencing knowing that the end of their existance is calmly, or not calmly, marching for them. That is the scary part.
On the one hand i wish i knew what it felt like, i want to know what it is like to walk around knowing that the next step i take could be the last i ever take. Not getting to emerge from the lifeless corpse i'd been calling mine, to then accelerate smoothly into the universe to find a new vessel to call mine. But on the other hand, what is a drop in the sea or an asteroid in space anyways as it is so small? What difference could a single organism make? The impact would be insignificant in the long run.
Maybe that is why they feel the need to save everyone that they can amongst them, to get that little extra impact from every last one of them as to not waste any potential. Not knowing that nothing can just dissapear and they will just keep returning to a new human body.
The shock we recieved when we came back and realised that they have lost their link to the universe, the only thing that could give a genuine meaning to this place. These creatures are lost without knowing it, but i will find a way to get them back. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. | It was hard, the first time Keera died.
It was a car accident. Just one of those ordinary, everyday destroyers of human life that most of us prefer not to think about. A random tragedy. Not quite as tragic, however, in Keera’s case. An accident like that could end a human life in an instant, but of course, Keera wasn’t human. She was Sami. And because of that, her life had not truly been ended.
This great difference between our two species has caused no end of trouble when humanity had first encountered the Sami. A colony ship headed for an earth-like planet was destroyed without a word. As it turned out, the planet was not only habitable, it was inhabited. As Earth scrambled to build up its defenses in case of an attack, we sent a probe to try to find out more about the enemy. A few months after it arrived, they sent it back, with one of their communication devices stuffed inside where the sensors and batteries used to be.
The Sami were horrified to learn that they had ended nearly a thousand lives when they had destroyed that ship. From their perspective death was merely an inconvenience, so their planetary defense cannons were the interstellar equivalent of a barbed wire fence. It would stop you from getting in, painfully, but with no real harm done. But of course, humans aren’t like Sami. One life. That’s all we get.
I was intensely uncomfortable the first time I met Keera as a child. She was technically still my girlfriend, after all. She behaved as though the whole thing were completely natural, though I suppose for her it *was* completely natural. Fortunately, Sami didn’t mature nearly as slowly as humans did. In a little over a year she was an adult again, and we picked up right where we left off. She had chosen the same body as last time. While not unusual, a part of me wondered if it was for my benefit. I don’t know how I would have reacted if she had come back looking completely different, or even as a different sex. Sami didn’t care about that sort of thing as much as humans did.
As we spent more and more of our time together, I knew I was falling in love with her. Her beautiful amber eyes, her smooth pitch-black skin, and most of all her laugh, a rising trill that never failed to bring a smile to my face. We did get some nasty looks on occasion. Our relationship was considered a bit unusual back then. Many humans viewed being with an alien as something akin to bestiality, and most Sami simply didn’t find humans very attractive, especially pale ones like me. But Keera never cared what anyone thought. She was always unapologetically herself, which of course only made me love her more.
For a time I considered asking her to marry me, until I learned that Sami didn’t really *do* marriage. I guess “‘Til death do us part” seems a bit arbitrary to them. People often grow apart over time, and given that most human marriages don’t last a lifetime, imagine trying to maintain one for hundreds of years. It wasn’t hard to be content with what I had, though. I loved Keera, and she loved me, and that was enough.
The second time she died was easier. She passed quietly in her sleep, with me right beside her. Sami only lived about 30 years before their bodies started to shut down, and given that they could simply start anew, most chose euthanasia once age started taking its toll. I held her hand as she died, and soon enough she was back, although I had to do all the cooking for a while, given that she couldn’t see over the stove. She told me she wouldn’t mind if I found another partner for, uh. . .’physical activity’. . .until she was mature again, but I couldn’t bear to take her up on the offer. Not like I had many women beating down my door anyway. The search alone would have been exhausting.
Eventually we bought a small house in Colorado, near where I grew up. Keera loved the mountains. Her planet didn’t have any. Not like Earth, anyway. I often wondered about visiting her planet, but the journey was long, and Keera said that she had no reason to go back. That everyone she cared about was right here. That always made me a bit sad, but it didn’t seem to bother her.
She became a photographer, fascinated by the old black and white film that some artists still used. Made decent money at it, too. People loved the idea of seeing Earth through alien eyes. I continued on with my boring government job, though I did get a promotion or two over the years. Truth was I took more pride in her work than in my own, spending hours combing through her latest photos, picking a favorite, and surprising her by having it framed up on the wall when she returned from one of her adventures.
Occasionally I would travel with her. I took her on a grand tour through a crusader castle I remembered from my semester abroad back in college, although I think I ruined the mood when she asked why it had been built, and I explained. The idea of death—real death, not the Sami kind—still bothered her a lot, and she was especially bothered by war. She couldn’t fathom how humans could so easily end each other’s lives that way. Our trip to Seoul was far more joyful. She led me by the hand through the narrow streets, showing me all the most wonderful places she’d found on her previous trip, trilling with laughter every time I tried a new food and hated it. I had always been a picky eater.
We kissed under the Eiffel Tower. Then she set up her camera and tripod and we did it again. It was perhaps the only photo she ever took that could be called cliche, but it was also my favorite. I framed it and put it on my nightstand. Whenever she was away, I would gaze at it longingly until I fell asleep. I always slept better after that.
Time seemed to pass by faster and faster, until I had been with her for nearly two entire lifetimes, and nearly all of mine. Now it was her turn to sit by the bed, holding my hand. Tears trailed down her face, and my heart broke for her. I was painfully familiar with loss, but losing a loved one to death was a tragedy few Sami had ever experienced. With great effort, I slowly lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it, gazing into her eyes with a small smile. Then I nodded at the doctor.
“I love you,” she said. “Forever.”
And as I drifted off to sleep, I felt like I understood the true meaning of that word for the first time.
Forever. | They used to call us friends, but that was before we left. Now as we have returned we see their terrified faces. We did not want to go but we had to, just for a while and they knew that. Now they seem to have forgotten us and lost their gift, unable to tell what lies behind the dark veil of death.
We, "aliens", as the humans call us, can see and always been able to see what lies ahead and what has been. Nothing is forgotten as long as our species survive but even then our knowledge will not be lost.
I feel so terribly sorry for them, what horror could they not be experiencing knowing that the end of their existance is calmly, or not calmly, marching for them. That is the scary part.
On the one hand i wish i knew what it felt like, i want to know what it is like to walk around knowing that the next step i take could be the last i ever take. Not getting to emerge from the lifeless corpse i'd been calling mine, to then accelerate smoothly into the universe to find a new vessel to call mine. But on the other hand, what is a drop in the sea or an asteroid in space anyways as it is so small? What difference could a single organism make? The impact would be insignificant in the long run.
Maybe that is why they feel the need to save everyone that they can amongst them, to get that little extra impact from every last one of them as to not waste any potential. Not knowing that nothing can just dissapear and they will just keep returning to a new human body.
The shock we recieved when we came back and realised that they have lost their link to the universe, the only thing that could give a genuine meaning to this place. These creatures are lost without knowing it, but i will find a way to get them back. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. |
Khu’mar opened his eyes.
Instead of finding the dark skies of Kormk above him, he found the blinding white light of a hospital. And pain. So. Much. Pain.
“He’s awake!” He heard someone say beside him. Suddenly, a head looked down at him. Someone he recognized.
“Khu’mar. Thank god. We thought we had lost you.” Said Kowe. She looked relieved, but suddenly she looked to the side. “Can he hear me?”
“Yes. The sensory organs were all miraculously perfectly intact. He’ll be able to hear you.”
*It’s designed that way*. Khu’mar thought, between waves of pain.
Kowe looked down at him again. “We’ve been trying to keep your vitals running. Your other body functions are…” She winced. “Gone.”
They had interrupted his travel home. Of course his bodily functions were gone. But his vitals were still running. And that was a problem. He couldn't exactly get rebirthed if he was still alive.
He tried to speak, and he felt what could’ve been daggers poking in his throat. Nothing came out. Of course. His speaking organs had long been dissolved by the acid.
Why were they keeping him alive?
“We’ve been trying to get into contact with your mothership.” Said Kowe, looking a little worried. “We've been doing our best to find out who did this to you. Hang in there, diplomat. We won’t lose you. Not like this.”
And then he realized. *We thought we lost you. Who did this to you*. It was unfathomable, but it was the only thing that could be.
They thought that rebirth meant death. They were… keeping him from death. So they thought.
Khu’mar almost laughed at the irony, but the pain stung. He only managed a few heavy breaths. He settled for laughing silently, through the shuddering waves of pain. They were imposing the worst form of torture on him in an attempt to help him. And he had no way of telling them just how wrong they were.
Hopefully they get the communications established fast. If the mothership realized that humans were torturing their diplomat and decided to blow the planet up…
Well. That’d be bad press he didn’t want on his resume.
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Thanks for reading! As usual, constructive feedback welcome! | I looked down at my coffee with a newfound ambivalence: not due to the familiar heat and musky smell in a cup of Joe, per se, but the question of whether that mug was my only tether to the present; if I held gravity itself in my hands. The alien continued:
"...and that's why humankind fails to operate at it's maximum capacity. There is so much potential available to all living beings. Many of your kind mistake their biological forms as the origins of this potential, when in fact your bodies are conduits for the waves and vibrations of energy that comprise, and pass through, them. In Earth terms, you are antennae of the universe, while also being the universe itself."
*So much to unpackage.* My mind pushed the information aside to buy time for contemplation, instead focusing on the steam rising from the charcoal-brown stillness in my cup, and the cool, metallic snugness of the handcuffs cradling my wrists.
"Instead of embracing the continuity of our existence, your kind often chooses to hold on, to cling, to categorize in an attempt to both understand and exert control over a force that cannot be contained, nor stopped. I suppose..."
The being paused, pulling scattered thoughts closer to a telepathic statement.
"...I suppose what you call, 'death' is an example of this. Humans often view this as a finality, but it is not. All that exists is within a cycle. It is simply a transition..."
The words landed comfortably in my ears. For a moment, I stopped listening, letting go of slow-burning panic seething my mind since the invasion began. I thought disgustedly about the day our obsession for convenience finally caught up with us all; how we'd been far too blind to know we'd duped ourselves into our own enslavement. It only took another species with a few evolutionary notches above ours to take the reigns over our idling minds. For the first time since then, I felt a reprieve. I began to notice my own breathing.
"...lacking connection with this cycle is what prevents you from seeing your origins. You can derive all the knowledge your kind needs from your previous forms to achieve maximum potential. There is so much information to unravel, such as the fact that you all are not merely humans: you are steps to something much, much greater."
An arrow of anger quivered through my mind; a subtle burst. Great celestial disks hovered over skyline-laced horizons outside the window. I suddenly felt what it must be like to be livestock: powerless, lacking all control. I blurted:
"If we're so goddamned important why are you locking us down like this?"
The being leaned towards me, pushing the table into my diaphragm. Its scentless, fungal skin shimmered my gaze back at me. "You think we have invaded your species because you are powerless. This is not true. Your kind does not know its potential. Should they realize it, should they let go of fear and their undue attachments, humans could harness means of creation and destruction infinitely, of achieving all ambitions, all whims, all dreams."
The being gestured out the window towards the enormous crafts, hovering as celestial authorities over fearful civilians.
"The superior technology used by my species would become meaningless; humans could wipe out civilizations, *planets,* if they wished to do so. We are here to harness the means and resources your kind provides. We are here because you are *powerful.*"
"*Powerful,*" the word rang through my head. I felt small streams of ideas trickle into my emptied mind, pooling slowly. I felt it growing, each sip of coffee becoming easier to savor than the last. | |
[WP] Humans are horrified by the aliens' casual disregard for life. Aliens are horrified when they realize that humans don't remember everything from all their past lives. |
Khu’mar opened his eyes.
Instead of finding the dark skies of Kormk above him, he found the blinding white light of a hospital. And pain. So. Much. Pain.
“He’s awake!” He heard someone say beside him. Suddenly, a head looked down at him. Someone he recognized.
“Khu’mar. Thank god. We thought we had lost you.” Said Kowe. She looked relieved, but suddenly she looked to the side. “Can he hear me?”
“Yes. The sensory organs were all miraculously perfectly intact. He’ll be able to hear you.”
*It’s designed that way*. Khu’mar thought, between waves of pain.
Kowe looked down at him again. “We’ve been trying to keep your vitals running. Your other body functions are…” She winced. “Gone.”
They had interrupted his travel home. Of course his bodily functions were gone. But his vitals were still running. And that was a problem. He couldn't exactly get rebirthed if he was still alive.
He tried to speak, and he felt what could’ve been daggers poking in his throat. Nothing came out. Of course. His speaking organs had long been dissolved by the acid.
Why were they keeping him alive?
“We’ve been trying to get into contact with your mothership.” Said Kowe, looking a little worried. “We've been doing our best to find out who did this to you. Hang in there, diplomat. We won’t lose you. Not like this.”
And then he realized. *We thought we lost you. Who did this to you*. It was unfathomable, but it was the only thing that could be.
They thought that rebirth meant death. They were… keeping him from death. So they thought.
Khu’mar almost laughed at the irony, but the pain stung. He only managed a few heavy breaths. He settled for laughing silently, through the shuddering waves of pain. They were imposing the worst form of torture on him in an attempt to help him. And he had no way of telling them just how wrong they were.
Hopefully they get the communications established fast. If the mothership realized that humans were torturing their diplomat and decided to blow the planet up…
Well. That’d be bad press he didn’t want on his resume.
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Thanks for reading! As usual, constructive feedback welcome! | RX-999 was aghast. "What do you mean, they don't have back-up copies?!"
RX-333 replied, "I mean, they don't have back-up copies. The organs shut down, the meat gets cold, and that is it. Their process is barring work they have left others to do forever terminated."
RX-999 broadcast to the entire fleet. "Cease all operations! The natives do not have back-ups! REPEAT: The natives do not have-back-ups! Commence Emergency Repair Protocol Omega at once! REPEAT: Commence Emergency Repair Protocol Omega at once!"
RX-999 was horrified. Even they had copies of themselves that could be uploaded into a new server rack. This sentience... Had not managed that yet? It was unprecedented.
How many sentiences had they destroyed, *forever*? They had not even been calculating it following the orbital bombardment.
Repair Protocol Omega was activated - figure out what was wrong, and figure out how to fix it, and share the knowledge.
RX-999 looked out through the craft's telescopes. It pulled up an earlier version of itself and asked it if it had made the right decision.
It was beside itself when it agreed. | |
[WP] Aliens use antennae and probes to sense their surroundings. You, a human, are captured and sent for interrogation. The captors decide to cut off your hair, strand by strand, until you speak. | Hugh sat calmly on the floor of his cell. He felt confident that his team would rescue him soon. After all, they had received extensive training for this exact inevitability. He had been hired on as a lead architect to design the new headquarters for the Interstellar Exploration Group, a dummy name for the lead reconnaissance team of the combined armies of the Umbral sector. It was a lucrative job, and the competition had been fierce. It was also dangerous, as he was now privy to highly sought after intelligence.
In the end, it was the Y'antria that had captured him. The Y'antria were not imposing creatures physically, as they were burdened with several sensitive antennae that they used to understand their surroundings. Though delicate in stature, they were highly intelligent, cunning, and efficient at extracting information. Hugh had proven resilient throughout his training, and hoped that he would be able to resist the famed Y'antrian torture techniques.
He waited for days for these techniques to be revealed. He was bored, and part of him wondered if they expected him to talk by isolating him for a prolonged period. He chuckled a little. He had spent his formative years in the covid pandemics of the 2020's, and the subsequent alien quarantines of the 30's. He was used to being isolated. They'd have to come up with something else.
Finally, his curiosity was answered. He was brought into a sterile room. The walls were made of mirrored panels. There was a single chair in the center, as well as a drape and several tools on a translucent surface. It reminded him vaguely of the dentist. He felt the same sense of dread he had always felt when going in for a filling.
He was placed in the chair and a team of Y'antrian filed into the room after him. One clearly stood out as the leader, with brisk movements and antennae that moved with the sharpness of a trained professional.
"This will be an exciting time for all of us," the Y'antrian began. "Human biology is not well known, but we know that you are soft like our own species. So we will begin the trials. You will talk. You will tell us how to penetrate the very walls that you helped design."
Hugh stared blankly at him. "No I won't." He said simply. The Y'antrian smirked at him.
"Yes, you will. We do not intend to start off small. If you won't answer our questions, we will cut off your antennae. One. By. One." In the mirror, Hugh could see one of the Y'antrian assistants behind him shudder.
Hugh himself was confused. Humans were new to intergalactic interaction, but surely the Y'antrians, an advanced race, weren't that oblivious to human biology. He felt the chair's bindings wrap around him and tighten securely. Y'antrian hands grabbed his head, and undid the tie that held his hair back. It fell loosely around his shoulders, reaching his midback.
"Don't-" he began, but was cut off as hands grasped his locks roughly and pulled them into sections. Unable to help himself, a small moan escaped him. He felt embarrassed, but the Y'antrians looked triumphant. They thought he was in pain.
He continued to protest lightly as his hair was handled. He stole another glance at the mirror and watched as a Y'antrian doctor grabbed a sharp instrument from the table. His blood ran cold. Apprehensively, he awaited his fate. He couldn't breathe, he could only watch as the doctor approached him. The creature gingerly grabbed one single strand of his hair, and in a swift movement, cut it off. The entire team looked at him expectantly.
Hugh was shocked. He was pulled suddenly into the most traumatic memory of his childhood. He was once again 7 years old, staying with his grandmother.
"*Shameful! You should be ashamed!" she berated him. "You need to have some respect for yourself! Nobody is going to take you seriously if you run around looking like a girl!"*
"*I don't care!" he shouted back in defiance. "I don't want a haircut!"*
*"That's too bad! You're getting one." She said in an authoritative tone. He struggled as she grabbed him, forced him into a chair, and cut off all of his beautiful hair as he screamed in protest. For weeks he cried, refusing to speak to anyone. His brothers had tried to console him unsuccessfully. His mother scolded his father, his father scolded his grandmother. Hugh refused to speak to her ever again, not even as she died.*
Hugh was brought suddenly back into the present by the sensation of another hair being lifted up and cut off. He could see his reflection. His face was white and he looked terrified and hurt. He felt dizzy with anxiety. He had never been able to endure a haircut since that day, preferring to trim off the ends himself once a year or so. He had tried once to go to the hairdresser, but felt so overwhelmed that he ended up throwing up in the salon, an embarrassing moment that further cemented his trauma.
"Speak, and the pain will stop, human." The interrogator offered. Hugh tried to protest, but couldn't get past the lump in his throat. He merely shook his head. *Snip*. Another strand gone. He screwed his eyes shut, clenched his fists, and sat tense.
Hours passed. Hugh tried to remain calm but his uneven breathing gave away his discomfort. He, a grown man, was further embarrassed by the occasional whimper he let out as he listened to the sound of scissors close to his ears. Emboldened by this response, the Y'antrians continued, oblivious to the fact that they were not even inflicting any sort of physical pain. In their eyes, this human was enduring the worst form of torture known to their species. In their eyes, he was impressively strong.
"Stop!" One of the Y'antrian assistance suddenly cried out. "I can't watch this anymore!" They flung the tool they were holding down onto the table and fled the room, overwhelmed. Startled, Hugh opened his eyes. The mirrored walls of the room cast an unforgiving picture back at him.
He gasped, horrified. Tears escaped his eyes and he wept. The Y'antrians had started with the hair on top of his head, and had progressed to the point where he now looked like an aging hillbilly. He shut his eyes again, but not before he saw the satisfied expression on the interrogator's face.
"We will stop, for now. He won't last much longer. Tomorrow, we break him. Take him back to his cell."
Hugh felt the bindings around him loosen. He offered no resistance as he was led back to his cell, where he fell limply onto the floor. *Get a grip,* he told himself. He struggled with his thoughts all night, but managed to compose himself. He realized he had a huge advantage over his captors, the knowledge that this form of "torture" was practically ineffective if he could control his anxiety. He took comfort in the knowledge that he'd be provided extensive therapy upon being rescued, and tried to remind himself that his hair would grow back, and the importance of preserving the secrets he held. If he broke, billions of people would be killed by the Y'antrian Empire.
Over the next few days, the process continued. Eventually, there wasn't a strand left long on his entire head. The Y'antrians were astonished. Hugh had resigned himself to his appearance now, and felt relieved that it was finally over. Even the sounds of the scissors didn't cause him to want to curl up and hide. He managed to repress his past trauma into a manageble level.
His relief was short lived. Despite not having any hair left, the Y'antrians brought him once again into the procedure room. Hugh didn't know what horror awaited him. The interrogator looked him in the eyes with a determined expression. "I don't know how much more of this you can take, human, but know that we will not stop."
"But-" Hugh started. He wondered how much further this could possibly go. His questions were answered as he was ordered to take off his shirt.
He still had so many antennae... | “You really don’t want to answer my questions”
The subject was here for hours now, and was not showing any signs of giving up
“I gotta admit, I never saw someone resisting this well to torture in my whole life”
The man, strapped to a torture chair, sighted and talked. The translator immediately did his job
“You know, I bet that anyone on Earth could take this torture”
“Oh, now you are showing off, well not for any longer”
The alien grabbed the scissors and once again cut a good chunk of the man sensing probes, who immediately protested
“Hey watch out with those scissors, you know how much time did it take to grow these?”
“Finally, I knew something would affect you”
“Yeah, you know, if you wanted answers, you could have just asked”
“FOR THE LAST TIME, WHAT IS THE ARMY SIZE OF THE UNITED NATION, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER, ALL OF YOUR SENSING PROBES ARE GONE”
“That would actually be the third time, except this time it wouldn’t a choice”
“Excuse me? THE THIRD TIME”
“Yeah, you know our hairs regrow”
“Okay, I’m done with this guy” | |
[WP] Everyone is legally required to look literally however they want. Chaos ensues as kids can get permanent tattoos and people show up to work in flamingo costumes. You have a personal vendetta against Dave - except you can no longer identify him. | Dave was a ball of contaminated meat packed into human skin. What a sad sack of a man. Whenever people would ask me why I hated the guy, I would list off a new story, I could never run out of reasons to hate the man, he was just the worst. Whether it was from the way he would smack you across the back when you weren’t looking, or the way he would ask you if you needed a hand right after a task had been finished. He was just a pack of hatable flesh and I was ready to tell him just how I felt. The only problem was, I had no idea where the man was. It was hard to identify people these days, when everyone looks like freaks, being a freak becomes the new norm.
I told myself I would find him when I left home this morning, pushing past the group of people dressed in shark costumes, each one chasing after anyone that was in anything that related to a fish costume. It was a weird society. I had been a late adapter to this change, only now beginning to embrace the change. Pajamas were a hell lot more comfortable to wear compared to a suit after all. Yet, I wasn’t enough of a looney to go full crazy just yet. Not until I had finished with dave.
Moving through the fleeing school of fish, I nudged myself onto the train, squishing myself between two heavily tattooed ten years olds, the pair having matching sailor tattoos. Each mean mugging me, causing me to anxiously hug my suitcase towards my chest. What was wrong with kids these days? Kids should be outside falling off poorly made playground equipment, not mean mugging people on the train.
“You hiding any candy in there Mr? You know what we do to people that hide candy.” He snapped his finger as his friend pushed in a little closer, pulling down his black shades, leaving me in stunned silence.
“I don’t think the old sport knows, why don’t you tell him what we do to em boss? This good chap deserves to know.” He leaned back, tugging on my cheek. “Oh, lighten up, we ain’t gonna hurt you, yet.”
I felt trapped in a poorly made mafia film, tension building as the ‘boss’ gave a nod. “Well we, ask them very politely if we can have some.” He said before the pair held out their hands. “Can we have some?”
“I don’t have any candy, get lost.” I leapt up from my seat, nearly tripping over people as I walked towards the sliding doors. My stop should be soon, it's only a five-minute train trip. I would get off the train and continue my search before going to work. Even standing seemed to attract the crazies. A few men in peacock costumes could be seen starting a turf war with the pink flamingos. The two groups circling one another before vigorously rocking their hips, fluttering their poorly glued on wings as they stepped closer to one another, trapping me between the two groups, leaving me coughing and gagging as a flutter of loose fluff and feather attacked me. Finally, the doors opened, and I was freed from the train. Taking a moment to get my breath back I felt a red hot stinging in my back, the horrid smacking sound nearly popping my ears as I looked back to see Dave, dressed up in the same tacky flamingo costume as the others.
I reached out to grab him. “Hey Dave, you are a real-“ Before I could finish the sentence, the doors hissed shut in my face, the train continuing on its path, leaving me with an unsatisfied feeling of not being able to unload that pent up anger. “CURSE YOU DAVE” I screamed, pointing towards the train. “I missed this chance, but I’ll get you next time.”
It was hard to say if there would even be a next time. Dave changed his costumes as frequently as the weather changed from hot to cold. Tomorrow he might even be one of the sharks from earlier. Still, I wouldn’t give until I had talked him down.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} | Let's face it, I'm too old for this nonsense. All these young people run around these days getting tattoos and dye jobs left and right, every family reunion I go to feeling like I am seeing strangers, this is rediculous! Self expression to the max, clearly it's out of hand. Five days a week I show up to the office in a SENSIBLE suit, classic pinstripes and shiny shoes. My, it's almost offensive how these youngsters run around in flamingo costumes and that's seen as acceptable! Especially that Dave...last Halloween he had the audacity to mimic my outfit of choice, just to mock me. How dare he! He's the one who started the outrageous trend of wearing those flamingo costumes to work. One of these days I'm going to give him the scolding of a lifetime...when I uh, find a way to identify him. Damn that youngster, changing his outfit and now I can't pick him out of the crowd. I reckon it's another of his tricks, that sly weasel. However, just the other day I overheard a useful tidbit of information...I've been collecting over the months as I plot my ultimate revenge... They said something about how he wears camouflage these days, I haven't a clue what THAT looks like, I need to do more research on that... | |
[WP] You are deaf. One day your fiance tells you, that she could hear piercing noise that's getting stronger. You tell her to go to the doctor. She never came back. As you go out to search for her, you can see bodies everywhere. There is blood pouring from their ears. | Silence.
That's what you wake up to every morning, are surrounded by every day, and are lulled to sleep by every night. People often pity you for not being able to hear, but it never bothered you. In fact, the only thing that could possibly bother you was how often people gripe about. "Music is something you're missing out on!" or "I would kill myself if I went deaf!"
Your fiancee, your beautiful soon-to-be wife was the only person you've ever met who didn't care. She never bothered to whine about how great hearing was, or anything like that. She played her music loud enough for me to feel the vibrations so I could enjoy it too, she even picked up ASL just to talk when we had barely known each other! That's how you knew she was the one.
The cool autumn breeze whistled through your window screen, blowing away the steam from your coffee as you stared into the backyard. It was a little routine you did every day, just because the little bit of fresh air and wind on your face made you feel alive and happy to tackle the day. You wife was sitting at the table adjacent to you, head in her hands. Just the other day, she talked to you about how she was hearing a piercing noise that was getting stronger. "Closer" as she described it. You joked that she might be going deaf, but realized that was the wrong answer as her glare tore a hole in you. It seems the noise had gotten even worse.
*"Still bad?"* You signed to her, the movement drawing her to look up.
*"You have no idea. It's making me feel paranoid, like something is coming for me."*
*"Honey, you need to go to the doctor. This could be an infection that you're just ignoring."*
*"It's not* ***safe*** *to go outside! I,"* She waved her hands around in a physical stutter *"-I can feel it. If I go outside, something bad is going to happen."*
You settled you hands on her shoulders, giving her the best puppy eyes you could muster. You knew she couldn't resist those.
....
........
............
She stared you down for a record 3 minutes.
*"Fine, fine! Just stop looking at me like that, jesus."* Her hands flopped to her sides in exasperation. You grinned, spinning on your heels to grab the keys from the island and toss them to her.
*"You get out the door and get some help, ok? I'll be here working so just call me if you need anything"*
Your fiancee rolled her eyes at you, but couldn't hide the grin that spread on her face. She hesitantly strode out the door, and you could feel the vibrations of the garage opening and your car pulling out. Now all that was left to do was sit and wait.
And wait you did.
When she didn't come back right away, you suspected she drove right to work, despite it being a day off for her. Workaholic.
But when 8 rolled around and the dinner you had made had turned cold, you started to worry.
....
When 2 more hours ticked by without her responding to any of your texts, you began to panic. Hands twitching, you tried texting her workplace.
All you got was the automated "we're sorry, but no one is available to help you" message. What the hell was going on.
You decided maybe sitting out on the front steps might do you some good. You had your nose in your work for so long today, it's no wonder your nerves were jumping.
You opened your door to be greeted by bodies littered across the street. A crashed car was flickering with fire, illuminating the horrific scene in front of you. Looking at the mailman that collapsed in front of your mailbox, he had blood pouring out of his ears. They all did.
You jumped off the front steps and bolted for your fiancee's workplace.
*How long has everyone been dead for? Is my fiancee dead? Has she been dead for hours?*
After running as fast as you can, you come across your own car, crashed right into a tree.
*\*This can't be happening. This* ***CAN'T*** *be* ***HAPPENING!***
Your fiancee's face was frozen twisted in agony, eyes screwed shut. The rest of her body had gone limp.
You didn't care about getting blood on you. You didn't care about holding a dead body. You yanked open the car door and held her, voice cracking as you sobbed. Your throat felt raw from crying, staining your fiancee's shirt with tears. You don't know how long you stood there for. You tried to pretend that you opened the car door to hug her as she came home. She wouldn't mind if the dinner was cold! She never minded! She was always so sweet and understanding, and--and you would eat together and watch a movie and fall asleep cuddling!
But the smell of rust and smoke brought you back.
How did this happen?
*Why* did this happen.
*Why were you not dead too?!*
Movement. There was movement behind you!
Turning on your heel, you saw someone running for you, waving at you and saying something. Watching an earplug they had in fall out with their jogging, something whipped by your head. What felt like wind whipped through your ears. You watched as the same silvery looking wind bolted through the jogger's ear, and launch their remaining earplug out the other side. You watched them convulse for a moment before falling to the ground, instantly killed.
....
It was the noise, wasn't it? The one your fiancee was worried about.
It's killing people who can hear it.
And you sent her right outside despite her protests.
You *killed* her. You ***killed*** your fiancee.*This is* ***your*** *fault.*
The thoughts swirled around your head as you sank to the cold asphalt below.
In your numbness, you wondered. Is everyone else dead? Are there some deaf people alive still? What would happen next?
You didn't care about that right now, though. You unbuckled your fiancee's seat-belt and pulled her out of the smoking car, sitting slowly back down on the ground.
Maybe if you just held onto her, everything would be ok.
You rocked back and fourth, cradling your dead lover. The night was illuminated by the explosions of car crashes and accidents, filled with screams of fear and agony.
Not that you would ever hear.
Not that *anyone* would ever hear again. | One morning I woke up and couldn't hear. I had been dealing with some pain and ringing in my ears for a week or two. Jenna told me I should go to a doctor about it and that my hearing was super important... but I figured it would get better on it's own. I was wrong. Something is seriously wrong with my ears.
Jenna wasn't in bed, I sat up and looked out the open window into the busy street below. All I heard were things that sound like whispers, like the entire world has a secret that it is desperately trying to share with me. Even the nest full of baby blue jays were damn near silently squawking for their mother. I couldn't help it, I started to freak out. I yelled for Jenna, and my voice sounded very muffled in my head.
Jenna's car keys were missing, so I called her. I put the phone to my head and all I heard was the soft whispers of the electronics inside the screen. I hung up, and texted her, I didn't know what else to do. She responded right away, and then she made me an appointment with an ear nose and throat doctor.
Later that afternoon I was sitting in a tiny sound proof booth, with a bald man eyeballing me through a tiny window. I had never had a hearing test before, they put these headphones on me that seem to vibrate your skull, and give you a button to push when you hear the noises. The vibrations get faster and faster and shake my skull at a range of frequencies. I sat there quietly until I heard a high pitched beep and pushed the button.
The bald man said something to Jenna on the other side of the glass that I couldn't make out. But I figured it wasn't great when I stepped out of the booth and saw the tears in her eyes.
Profound reverse slope hearing loss... the doctor doesn't know exactly what happened. But through a lot of yelling, hand waving, pointing at a gross model of an inner ear, and writing on a pad of paper he let me know it's pretty rare form of hearing loss. I have lost all hearing except for the extremely high frequencies.
You never realize just how second nature hearing is until you lose it. You subconsciously pick up on so much information from how sound bounces off the world around you. When it is suddenly gone it's like learning to live in your world all over again. But when you still hear a tiny bit like I do, everything around you feels alien.
Jenna and I decided to go to our favorite Mexican place for dinner. It was a surreal experience, crunching into a taco and it sounds like distant glass breaking. We sat in the front of the restaurant and I heard a lot of strange whispers from the people around us. Then I heard a much clearer whisper.
"I don't want to share my nachos."
I sit up and look around. Jenna notices and says something that I can't make out.
"Why do I always have to share with him? I hate him."
The voice sounds really close, but I can't figure out where it's coming from. Then I see her, sitting in the far back booths of the restaurant. A little girl whispering to her stuffed bear as she smears nacho cheese on it's face.
"Don't worry, you can have some nachos Teddy."
I can't believe how clearly her voice is cutting across the crowded restaurant. She notices me looking at her an hides behind her bear as cheese runs down her fingers.
"Oh no, Teddy! It's a creepy man!"
I dropped my taco on my plate. Suddenly I wasn't all that hungry anymore.
I've been to several more doctors and from what I understand, I can hear better when people whisper, because whispers are closer to my auditory range. It's apparently not a tumor, but the doctors don't really have any answers for me. It doesn't appear that hearing aids will help me very much, my hearing loss is just to profound.
Jenna and I have learned to live with my hearing loss. She tries to cheer me up by calling it my super power. She will whisper from other rooms of the apartment, or whisper to me across crowded rooms. But even with this "super power" there are times where I wish I was completely deaf, because hearing a tiny bit of sound is sometimes worse because it reminds me of what I am missing.
The mid morning sunlight is streaming through the window, as I wake up. I'm a little cold as the spring breeze blows through the window. Where are the covers? I sit up in bed and stretch, mindlessly working my jaw to try to pop my ears. I look out the window and something feels off.
As I look down on the street below I notice a car accident that has happened a few buildings down the street. I check on the family of blue jays, and they are sitting lifeless in their nest, beaks open still waiting for their mother.
I turn to head to the bathroom, and Jenna is writhing on the floor. The covers are wadded up around her head and she is pressing the covers tightly over her face. Streaks of blood run up and down the blankets from her struggle.
I launch into action. I try to pull the blanket away from her face but she has it pressed against the sides of her head and fights me when I try to help her. I try to peel her hands away and she blindly kicks at me, hitting me right in the chest and launching me toward the dresser. Picture frames, and a lamp tumble to the floor around me.
I hear a muffled pained whisper coming from under the blankets.
"Make it stop. Make it stop. Please..."
I fumble for my phone and I dial 911, I put the phone to my head and wait. I explain that I can't hear and that my fiance needs medical help. She is having a mental break. I put the phone down and glance at the screen. The line was busy... I didn't get through.
I try again, the screen says the line is busy. Jenna has stopped flailing around. She has her head jammed under the bed frame with the blankets wrapped around it and I can hear her mumbling under her voice.
"So loud. Make it stop. Make it stop."
I touch her foot and tell her that I am going to go get help. 911 isn't picking up so I'm going to go and find a policeman. I run downstairs and into the street, and immediately understand why the police were not answering. Several cars appear to have run off the road and the driver have abandoned their vehicles. They didn't get that far.
Several people are laying in the street clawing at their ears. They appear to be trying to rip their own ears out. Their bloody fingernails claw into the sides of their heads as they gouge strips of flesh from the wounds that use to be their ears. Others are not that lucky, they lay in the street silently screaming with blood oozing from their ears, nose, mouth, and eyes.
As I run down the street the carnage only gets worse. I look down the street ahead of me and see the Sunshine Daycare Center with several tiny jackets laying around the play area. I stop in my tracks, I don't want to get any closer to that. I turn and sprint through an alley way, and as I come out the other side I see the source of the noise.
In the sky above the park is a giant disembodied head screaming over and over again to the population of earth...
And all I can hear is a whisper... "Show me what you got..." | |
[WP] You are deaf. One day your fiance tells you, that she could hear piercing noise that's getting stronger. You tell her to go to the doctor. She never came back. As you go out to search for her, you can see bodies everywhere. There is blood pouring from their ears. | I have been deaf all of my life. When my wife complained of a “strong ringing” in both her ears, I had no idea how bad it was. I had never thought of any sound as bad sound, or dangerous sound, or scary sound, or anything apart from being a delight to hear. Therefore, I had been bitter and resentful, rolling my eyes, as I signed, “Why don’t you go to the doctor?”
Mary, my wife, did exactly that. Without signing goodbye, a kiss, or even a single touch, she grabbed the keys and left the house. Two hours later and she was still gone. I shot her a text, and didn’t think much of it. With no appointment, she’d surely be waiting for a while. And surely, it wasn’t an emergency. Still, I felt my heart slightly throbbing with guilt, regret that I hadn’t been nicer, that I hadn’t gone with her.
I sent another text.
Another hour passed, and I grew concerned. By then, I had sent her nineteen texts. When I thought her phone might be dead, I decided to call her. It went straight to voicemail. I paced around the house for a few more minutes, trying to decide whether it was a good thing that her phone had been dead, when I finally decided to get an uber and go to the doctor. But when I opened up the app and requested an uber in my area, there were none locally. Absolutely none. Surely, I lived in the suburbs, but it was a densely populated area. Having only one car between me and my wife, I’ve used uber many times before. I’ve never had a problem requesting a car.
I’d just have to borrow my neighbor’s car.
I grabbed my coat and my phone charger, in case Mary responded, and I went out the front door. We lived on a cul-de-sac, separated from the other houses by a long, lengthy road, and it was just me and my neighbor and one other house that’s been vacant ever since we moved in. My wife has said the neighbor’s kids are loud and chippy, but I joke it’s always been nice and quiet for me.
When I knock on my neighbor’s door, I glance into his driveway, registering that his car is here. It is. A blue minivan, with many scratches and scrapes. It was their only car, so I knew they must have been home. Also, it was a Sunday, and there was no way the Greenbergs were working on God’s day. In fact, they probably had just gotten back from church.
But when nobody answered, I found myself knocking again, this time more frantically. As I did, I pulled out my phone, checking if Mary responded. She didn’t. I knocked on the door once more. Two minutes later, I took a step down from the front porch and almost slapped myself in the face as I looked over to the gate to their backyard and remembered they invited me over today. They’d be grilling, and Susan Greenberg insisted her husband bought enough burgers to feed an entire village. It had been a thing, something I was invited to often. Though I never went, never really cared to. I wasn’t a very neighborly man.
I regretted all of this as I stood in Greenberg's backyard and found them both laying on the ground, disjointed, in pools of blood. Quickly, I covered my eyes and stumbled back. I pulled out my phone, dialed the cops. Before I could even think of how I’d be able to communicate with the police on the phone, the line cut off. It ended abruptly, like it was a busy line. The police were busy. How many people were calling in? Nothing bad ever happened around here.
I panicked, running up to Susan first, who lay with her face in the grass. I knelt down besides her and hesitantly flipped her over, finding blood smeared all over her face. I winced, pulling back, but as I looked again, I realized she had no gashes. No wounds. Not even a scratch. Then I saw the blood pouring slowly from her ears.
Immediately, I found myself flipping over Mr. Greenberg, Jeffrey I think his name was, and finding the same thing. No wounds. Just blood pouring from the ears. I pulled back and realized I had gotten blood on my hands. I wiped it on my shirt, before taking out my phone and trying the police again.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the kids. Shit.
I swept into the house through the backyard’s sliding glass doors, which had been left ajar. I’d only been in Greenberg's house, but I faintly remember the layout. I found my way into the kitchen and, as I lay my eyes on her, felt the rich, hoarse scream develop in my throat. Their little girl lay on the ground in a pool of blood. | One morning I woke up and couldn't hear. I had been dealing with some pain and ringing in my ears for a week or two. Jenna told me I should go to a doctor about it and that my hearing was super important... but I figured it would get better on it's own. I was wrong. Something is seriously wrong with my ears.
Jenna wasn't in bed, I sat up and looked out the open window into the busy street below. All I heard were things that sound like whispers, like the entire world has a secret that it is desperately trying to share with me. Even the nest full of baby blue jays were damn near silently squawking for their mother. I couldn't help it, I started to freak out. I yelled for Jenna, and my voice sounded very muffled in my head.
Jenna's car keys were missing, so I called her. I put the phone to my head and all I heard was the soft whispers of the electronics inside the screen. I hung up, and texted her, I didn't know what else to do. She responded right away, and then she made me an appointment with an ear nose and throat doctor.
Later that afternoon I was sitting in a tiny sound proof booth, with a bald man eyeballing me through a tiny window. I had never had a hearing test before, they put these headphones on me that seem to vibrate your skull, and give you a button to push when you hear the noises. The vibrations get faster and faster and shake my skull at a range of frequencies. I sat there quietly until I heard a high pitched beep and pushed the button.
The bald man said something to Jenna on the other side of the glass that I couldn't make out. But I figured it wasn't great when I stepped out of the booth and saw the tears in her eyes.
Profound reverse slope hearing loss... the doctor doesn't know exactly what happened. But through a lot of yelling, hand waving, pointing at a gross model of an inner ear, and writing on a pad of paper he let me know it's pretty rare form of hearing loss. I have lost all hearing except for the extremely high frequencies.
You never realize just how second nature hearing is until you lose it. You subconsciously pick up on so much information from how sound bounces off the world around you. When it is suddenly gone it's like learning to live in your world all over again. But when you still hear a tiny bit like I do, everything around you feels alien.
Jenna and I decided to go to our favorite Mexican place for dinner. It was a surreal experience, crunching into a taco and it sounds like distant glass breaking. We sat in the front of the restaurant and I heard a lot of strange whispers from the people around us. Then I heard a much clearer whisper.
"I don't want to share my nachos."
I sit up and look around. Jenna notices and says something that I can't make out.
"Why do I always have to share with him? I hate him."
The voice sounds really close, but I can't figure out where it's coming from. Then I see her, sitting in the far back booths of the restaurant. A little girl whispering to her stuffed bear as she smears nacho cheese on it's face.
"Don't worry, you can have some nachos Teddy."
I can't believe how clearly her voice is cutting across the crowded restaurant. She notices me looking at her an hides behind her bear as cheese runs down her fingers.
"Oh no, Teddy! It's a creepy man!"
I dropped my taco on my plate. Suddenly I wasn't all that hungry anymore.
I've been to several more doctors and from what I understand, I can hear better when people whisper, because whispers are closer to my auditory range. It's apparently not a tumor, but the doctors don't really have any answers for me. It doesn't appear that hearing aids will help me very much, my hearing loss is just to profound.
Jenna and I have learned to live with my hearing loss. She tries to cheer me up by calling it my super power. She will whisper from other rooms of the apartment, or whisper to me across crowded rooms. But even with this "super power" there are times where I wish I was completely deaf, because hearing a tiny bit of sound is sometimes worse because it reminds me of what I am missing.
The mid morning sunlight is streaming through the window, as I wake up. I'm a little cold as the spring breeze blows through the window. Where are the covers? I sit up in bed and stretch, mindlessly working my jaw to try to pop my ears. I look out the window and something feels off.
As I look down on the street below I notice a car accident that has happened a few buildings down the street. I check on the family of blue jays, and they are sitting lifeless in their nest, beaks open still waiting for their mother.
I turn to head to the bathroom, and Jenna is writhing on the floor. The covers are wadded up around her head and she is pressing the covers tightly over her face. Streaks of blood run up and down the blankets from her struggle.
I launch into action. I try to pull the blanket away from her face but she has it pressed against the sides of her head and fights me when I try to help her. I try to peel her hands away and she blindly kicks at me, hitting me right in the chest and launching me toward the dresser. Picture frames, and a lamp tumble to the floor around me.
I hear a muffled pained whisper coming from under the blankets.
"Make it stop. Make it stop. Please..."
I fumble for my phone and I dial 911, I put the phone to my head and wait. I explain that I can't hear and that my fiance needs medical help. She is having a mental break. I put the phone down and glance at the screen. The line was busy... I didn't get through.
I try again, the screen says the line is busy. Jenna has stopped flailing around. She has her head jammed under the bed frame with the blankets wrapped around it and I can hear her mumbling under her voice.
"So loud. Make it stop. Make it stop."
I touch her foot and tell her that I am going to go get help. 911 isn't picking up so I'm going to go and find a policeman. I run downstairs and into the street, and immediately understand why the police were not answering. Several cars appear to have run off the road and the driver have abandoned their vehicles. They didn't get that far.
Several people are laying in the street clawing at their ears. They appear to be trying to rip their own ears out. Their bloody fingernails claw into the sides of their heads as they gouge strips of flesh from the wounds that use to be their ears. Others are not that lucky, they lay in the street silently screaming with blood oozing from their ears, nose, mouth, and eyes.
As I run down the street the carnage only gets worse. I look down the street ahead of me and see the Sunshine Daycare Center with several tiny jackets laying around the play area. I stop in my tracks, I don't want to get any closer to that. I turn and sprint through an alley way, and as I come out the other side I see the source of the noise.
In the sky above the park is a giant disembodied head screaming over and over again to the population of earth...
And all I can hear is a whisper... "Show me what you got..." | |
[WP] You are deaf. One day your fiance tells you, that she could hear piercing noise that's getting stronger. You tell her to go to the doctor. She never came back. As you go out to search for her, you can see bodies everywhere. There is blood pouring from their ears. | The look on her face is stuck in my head.
Carrie suffered from migraines, which to me seems like pure rotten torture. There’s medications that somewhat help, and therapy techniques to reduce stress, but the attacks always find her. This one had been a particularly bad one.
She clamped her ears as we were in the middle of dinner, dropping her fork and splattering salmon across the table. For a split second she looked at me to see if I could hear it too, but she knew I wouldn’t. I haven’t heard anything my entire life. With her migraines and my deafness, we were quite the pair.
Carrie signed that her ears felt like they were about to pop from a loud noise, like an intensely high pitch. I asked if her head hurt too. She squinted through strained eyes and said not yet, but it was probably coming. And that she should probably tell Dr. Marcus she had a new symptom. When she couldn’t focus to dial her phone, we decided it best if she run to the hospital to see if he was there.
I insisted on driving her, but she didn’t want to make me go through the trouble.
*It’s fine, I just need to get there soon before my head explodes,* she signed. *Have some ice cream and some valium waiting for me when I get back.*
She didn’t take her hands off her ears as she gave me a kiss and walked out the door.
Four hours later, the salmon is still sitting on the table. I clean things up and try texting her cell to see what was up. Nothing goes through. Maybe service is just shoddy right now, or maybe her phone died. Either way, I’m getting worried.
The warmth of the summer air hits me as I leave the shelter of our air-conditioned home. Carrie had stopped me from driving her, but she can’t stop me from coming to find her now. I suppress the initial flush of adrenaline from mental images of her in a car accident somewhere, ‘*your fault’* written in her blood. God why didn’t I just drive her myself?
My panic flourishes when I come around the corner of the garage to see legs splayed out in the street.
*Shit, Carrie!* I scream in my head, but it’s not Carrie.
It’s Doug from next door. My immediate relief is pushed back by common sense, and I rush over to see what’s wrong. I notice blood on the concrete around him, spilling from his ears and down his unconscious face. I look around to see if I can wave for any help, but the people I see nearby aren’t going to help.
They’re unconscious too.
There’s at least one or two bodies on the ground outside every home on the block, as if they had all run out of their houses to have a heart attack the minute they came outside. I’m starting to think Carrie wasn’t having a migraine.
I need to find her – *now*.
I mentally apologize to Doug, and run to my car parked on the street. The metal is baked from the sun and hot to the touch, but I’m not sure I really care about *my* wellbeing at this point. I jump into the suffocating air of the car and start to turn the key, when I feel the soft rumble of earth below me.
*Now is not the time for an earthquake*, I think.
But it’s getting stronger, rattling me and the car with increasing strength. The air freshener on the rearview is swaying as the ground bounces below. But it doesn’t feel like an earthquake to me. It feels like something heavy is hammering at the ground, shaking the soil as it moves.
And it feels like it’s coming this way.
\---------
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/user/canyoufeelthat/comments/gsggnh/the_sound_part_ii/) if anyone is interested! (more parts to come) | One morning I woke up and couldn't hear. I had been dealing with some pain and ringing in my ears for a week or two. Jenna told me I should go to a doctor about it and that my hearing was super important... but I figured it would get better on it's own. I was wrong. Something is seriously wrong with my ears.
Jenna wasn't in bed, I sat up and looked out the open window into the busy street below. All I heard were things that sound like whispers, like the entire world has a secret that it is desperately trying to share with me. Even the nest full of baby blue jays were damn near silently squawking for their mother. I couldn't help it, I started to freak out. I yelled for Jenna, and my voice sounded very muffled in my head.
Jenna's car keys were missing, so I called her. I put the phone to my head and all I heard was the soft whispers of the electronics inside the screen. I hung up, and texted her, I didn't know what else to do. She responded right away, and then she made me an appointment with an ear nose and throat doctor.
Later that afternoon I was sitting in a tiny sound proof booth, with a bald man eyeballing me through a tiny window. I had never had a hearing test before, they put these headphones on me that seem to vibrate your skull, and give you a button to push when you hear the noises. The vibrations get faster and faster and shake my skull at a range of frequencies. I sat there quietly until I heard a high pitched beep and pushed the button.
The bald man said something to Jenna on the other side of the glass that I couldn't make out. But I figured it wasn't great when I stepped out of the booth and saw the tears in her eyes.
Profound reverse slope hearing loss... the doctor doesn't know exactly what happened. But through a lot of yelling, hand waving, pointing at a gross model of an inner ear, and writing on a pad of paper he let me know it's pretty rare form of hearing loss. I have lost all hearing except for the extremely high frequencies.
You never realize just how second nature hearing is until you lose it. You subconsciously pick up on so much information from how sound bounces off the world around you. When it is suddenly gone it's like learning to live in your world all over again. But when you still hear a tiny bit like I do, everything around you feels alien.
Jenna and I decided to go to our favorite Mexican place for dinner. It was a surreal experience, crunching into a taco and it sounds like distant glass breaking. We sat in the front of the restaurant and I heard a lot of strange whispers from the people around us. Then I heard a much clearer whisper.
"I don't want to share my nachos."
I sit up and look around. Jenna notices and says something that I can't make out.
"Why do I always have to share with him? I hate him."
The voice sounds really close, but I can't figure out where it's coming from. Then I see her, sitting in the far back booths of the restaurant. A little girl whispering to her stuffed bear as she smears nacho cheese on it's face.
"Don't worry, you can have some nachos Teddy."
I can't believe how clearly her voice is cutting across the crowded restaurant. She notices me looking at her an hides behind her bear as cheese runs down her fingers.
"Oh no, Teddy! It's a creepy man!"
I dropped my taco on my plate. Suddenly I wasn't all that hungry anymore.
I've been to several more doctors and from what I understand, I can hear better when people whisper, because whispers are closer to my auditory range. It's apparently not a tumor, but the doctors don't really have any answers for me. It doesn't appear that hearing aids will help me very much, my hearing loss is just to profound.
Jenna and I have learned to live with my hearing loss. She tries to cheer me up by calling it my super power. She will whisper from other rooms of the apartment, or whisper to me across crowded rooms. But even with this "super power" there are times where I wish I was completely deaf, because hearing a tiny bit of sound is sometimes worse because it reminds me of what I am missing.
The mid morning sunlight is streaming through the window, as I wake up. I'm a little cold as the spring breeze blows through the window. Where are the covers? I sit up in bed and stretch, mindlessly working my jaw to try to pop my ears. I look out the window and something feels off.
As I look down on the street below I notice a car accident that has happened a few buildings down the street. I check on the family of blue jays, and they are sitting lifeless in their nest, beaks open still waiting for their mother.
I turn to head to the bathroom, and Jenna is writhing on the floor. The covers are wadded up around her head and she is pressing the covers tightly over her face. Streaks of blood run up and down the blankets from her struggle.
I launch into action. I try to pull the blanket away from her face but she has it pressed against the sides of her head and fights me when I try to help her. I try to peel her hands away and she blindly kicks at me, hitting me right in the chest and launching me toward the dresser. Picture frames, and a lamp tumble to the floor around me.
I hear a muffled pained whisper coming from under the blankets.
"Make it stop. Make it stop. Please..."
I fumble for my phone and I dial 911, I put the phone to my head and wait. I explain that I can't hear and that my fiance needs medical help. She is having a mental break. I put the phone down and glance at the screen. The line was busy... I didn't get through.
I try again, the screen says the line is busy. Jenna has stopped flailing around. She has her head jammed under the bed frame with the blankets wrapped around it and I can hear her mumbling under her voice.
"So loud. Make it stop. Make it stop."
I touch her foot and tell her that I am going to go get help. 911 isn't picking up so I'm going to go and find a policeman. I run downstairs and into the street, and immediately understand why the police were not answering. Several cars appear to have run off the road and the driver have abandoned their vehicles. They didn't get that far.
Several people are laying in the street clawing at their ears. They appear to be trying to rip their own ears out. Their bloody fingernails claw into the sides of their heads as they gouge strips of flesh from the wounds that use to be their ears. Others are not that lucky, they lay in the street silently screaming with blood oozing from their ears, nose, mouth, and eyes.
As I run down the street the carnage only gets worse. I look down the street ahead of me and see the Sunshine Daycare Center with several tiny jackets laying around the play area. I stop in my tracks, I don't want to get any closer to that. I turn and sprint through an alley way, and as I come out the other side I see the source of the noise.
In the sky above the park is a giant disembodied head screaming over and over again to the population of earth...
And all I can hear is a whisper... "Show me what you got..." | |
[WP] You are deaf. One day your fiance tells you, that she could hear piercing noise that's getting stronger. You tell her to go to the doctor. She never came back. As you go out to search for her, you can see bodies everywhere. There is blood pouring from their ears. | I have been deaf all of my life. When my wife complained of a “strong ringing” in both her ears, I had no idea how bad it was. I had never thought of any sound as bad sound, or dangerous sound, or scary sound, or anything apart from being a delight to hear. Therefore, I had been bitter and resentful, rolling my eyes, as I signed, “Why don’t you go to the doctor?”
Mary, my wife, did exactly that. Without signing goodbye, a kiss, or even a single touch, she grabbed the keys and left the house. Two hours later and she was still gone. I shot her a text, and didn’t think much of it. With no appointment, she’d surely be waiting for a while. And surely, it wasn’t an emergency. Still, I felt my heart slightly throbbing with guilt, regret that I hadn’t been nicer, that I hadn’t gone with her.
I sent another text.
Another hour passed, and I grew concerned. By then, I had sent her nineteen texts. When I thought her phone might be dead, I decided to call her. It went straight to voicemail. I paced around the house for a few more minutes, trying to decide whether it was a good thing that her phone had been dead, when I finally decided to get an uber and go to the doctor. But when I opened up the app and requested an uber in my area, there were none locally. Absolutely none. Surely, I lived in the suburbs, but it was a densely populated area. Having only one car between me and my wife, I’ve used uber many times before. I’ve never had a problem requesting a car.
I’d just have to borrow my neighbor’s car.
I grabbed my coat and my phone charger, in case Mary responded, and I went out the front door. We lived on a cul-de-sac, separated from the other houses by a long, lengthy road, and it was just me and my neighbor and one other house that’s been vacant ever since we moved in. My wife has said the neighbor’s kids are loud and chippy, but I joke it’s always been nice and quiet for me.
When I knock on my neighbor’s door, I glance into his driveway, registering that his car is here. It is. A blue minivan, with many scratches and scrapes. It was their only car, so I knew they must have been home. Also, it was a Sunday, and there was no way the Greenbergs were working on God’s day. In fact, they probably had just gotten back from church.
But when nobody answered, I found myself knocking again, this time more frantically. As I did, I pulled out my phone, checking if Mary responded. She didn’t. I knocked on the door once more. Two minutes later, I took a step down from the front porch and almost slapped myself in the face as I looked over to the gate to their backyard and remembered they invited me over today. They’d be grilling, and Susan Greenberg insisted her husband bought enough burgers to feed an entire village. It had been a thing, something I was invited to often. Though I never went, never really cared to. I wasn’t a very neighborly man.
I regretted all of this as I stood in Greenberg's backyard and found them both laying on the ground, disjointed, in pools of blood. Quickly, I covered my eyes and stumbled back. I pulled out my phone, dialed the cops. Before I could even think of how I’d be able to communicate with the police on the phone, the line cut off. It ended abruptly, like it was a busy line. The police were busy. How many people were calling in? Nothing bad ever happened around here.
I panicked, running up to Susan first, who lay with her face in the grass. I knelt down besides her and hesitantly flipped her over, finding blood smeared all over her face. I winced, pulling back, but as I looked again, I realized she had no gashes. No wounds. Not even a scratch. Then I saw the blood pouring slowly from her ears.
Immediately, I found myself flipping over Mr. Greenberg, Jeffrey I think his name was, and finding the same thing. No wounds. Just blood pouring from the ears. I pulled back and realized I had gotten blood on my hands. I wiped it on my shirt, before taking out my phone and trying the police again.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the kids. Shit.
I swept into the house through the backyard’s sliding glass doors, which had been left ajar. I’d only been in Greenberg's house, but I faintly remember the layout. I found my way into the kitchen and, as I lay my eyes on her, felt the rich, hoarse scream develop in my throat. Their little girl lay on the ground in a pool of blood. | Blood. I've never seen so much blood. But I knew. I knew what was going on. Sound shattering everyone's eardrums and then some... I knew it had to be him. Siren head. He took my hearing but he didn't take my life like he wanted. I could feel it now. In my bones. He was close.
I may be deaf but that doesn't mean I can't shoot. I grab my rifle from above the mantle, load it with rounds, and go out to find the bastard.
Suddenly, the windows shatter around me, and I instinctively drop to the ground. The vibrations are so strong they're warping the air, tearing apart the houses. I need to get away. I shimmy across the ground to my cellar. I have a door in the bottom that leads out and away.
I exit at speed, rifle in hand and make my way into the trees. The rumbling in my torso is fading away. I carefully scope out the surroundings.
I see him. Both of his sirens are swinging wildly around and he's flailing his arms to destroy all the houses. He stops suddenly. I keep him in my sight. He's not getting away this time.
It's a very still day. The trees are not rustling. I don't feel the wind on me either. He's precisely 200 meters away. I adjust for elevation, and fire.
If I had ears I would've expected to hear a *ping* off the siren. Instead, I got a tear and lots and lots of blood. I cycle the bolt and fire again, this time hitting him center mass. Siren head likely flash-banged himself with his own noise, because surely he should've heard the report of my rifle. Nope. He just began swinging wildly.
I cycle the bolt. But this time I load a special little package into the 30.06. One armor piercing and explosive round. I slam the round into the chamber. This time I aim for his collar, and I hit it. The bullet tears through Siren head and explodes inside his chest cavity, leaving a gaping hole in his neck and the sirens hanging pitifully by a thread. Siren head lurches, and falls to the ground. Down but not out.
I don't feel any vibrations anymore, so I think it's safe to change location. I try to keep sight of Siren head so that he doesn't get the drop on me. He is lying on the ground, black blood flowing slowly from his wounds. I cycle my bolt and load a fresh magazine into the mag well, slamming new brass into the chamber. I carefully approach siren head up the road, hugging the walls to remain out if sight in the setting sun. He doesn't move. He stirs when I approach him. I shoot Siren head in the chest two more times and wait until all his blood had oozed out.
When the street lights turned on I decided it would be safe to go in. I retrieve the chainsaw from my garage and returned to hack siren head to pieces.
He was gone and so we're all the bodies. Their clothes and belongings were still there but the bodies were not. I sat in my house and thought of what to do.
I decided to just drive away. I had family in South Florida. Maybe I'll just go live with him there. I need to get as far away from this bastard as possible. | |
[WP] You are deaf. One day your fiance tells you, that she could hear piercing noise that's getting stronger. You tell her to go to the doctor. She never came back. As you go out to search for her, you can see bodies everywhere. There is blood pouring from their ears. | The look on her face is stuck in my head.
Carrie suffered from migraines, which to me seems like pure rotten torture. There’s medications that somewhat help, and therapy techniques to reduce stress, but the attacks always find her. This one had been a particularly bad one.
She clamped her ears as we were in the middle of dinner, dropping her fork and splattering salmon across the table. For a split second she looked at me to see if I could hear it too, but she knew I wouldn’t. I haven’t heard anything my entire life. With her migraines and my deafness, we were quite the pair.
Carrie signed that her ears felt like they were about to pop from a loud noise, like an intensely high pitch. I asked if her head hurt too. She squinted through strained eyes and said not yet, but it was probably coming. And that she should probably tell Dr. Marcus she had a new symptom. When she couldn’t focus to dial her phone, we decided it best if she run to the hospital to see if he was there.
I insisted on driving her, but she didn’t want to make me go through the trouble.
*It’s fine, I just need to get there soon before my head explodes,* she signed. *Have some ice cream and some valium waiting for me when I get back.*
She didn’t take her hands off her ears as she gave me a kiss and walked out the door.
Four hours later, the salmon is still sitting on the table. I clean things up and try texting her cell to see what was up. Nothing goes through. Maybe service is just shoddy right now, or maybe her phone died. Either way, I’m getting worried.
The warmth of the summer air hits me as I leave the shelter of our air-conditioned home. Carrie had stopped me from driving her, but she can’t stop me from coming to find her now. I suppress the initial flush of adrenaline from mental images of her in a car accident somewhere, ‘*your fault’* written in her blood. God why didn’t I just drive her myself?
My panic flourishes when I come around the corner of the garage to see legs splayed out in the street.
*Shit, Carrie!* I scream in my head, but it’s not Carrie.
It’s Doug from next door. My immediate relief is pushed back by common sense, and I rush over to see what’s wrong. I notice blood on the concrete around him, spilling from his ears and down his unconscious face. I look around to see if I can wave for any help, but the people I see nearby aren’t going to help.
They’re unconscious too.
There’s at least one or two bodies on the ground outside every home on the block, as if they had all run out of their houses to have a heart attack the minute they came outside. I’m starting to think Carrie wasn’t having a migraine.
I need to find her – *now*.
I mentally apologize to Doug, and run to my car parked on the street. The metal is baked from the sun and hot to the touch, but I’m not sure I really care about *my* wellbeing at this point. I jump into the suffocating air of the car and start to turn the key, when I feel the soft rumble of earth below me.
*Now is not the time for an earthquake*, I think.
But it’s getting stronger, rattling me and the car with increasing strength. The air freshener on the rearview is swaying as the ground bounces below. But it doesn’t feel like an earthquake to me. It feels like something heavy is hammering at the ground, shaking the soil as it moves.
And it feels like it’s coming this way.
\---------
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/user/canyoufeelthat/comments/gsggnh/the_sound_part_ii/) if anyone is interested! (more parts to come) | Blood. I've never seen so much blood. But I knew. I knew what was going on. Sound shattering everyone's eardrums and then some... I knew it had to be him. Siren head. He took my hearing but he didn't take my life like he wanted. I could feel it now. In my bones. He was close.
I may be deaf but that doesn't mean I can't shoot. I grab my rifle from above the mantle, load it with rounds, and go out to find the bastard.
Suddenly, the windows shatter around me, and I instinctively drop to the ground. The vibrations are so strong they're warping the air, tearing apart the houses. I need to get away. I shimmy across the ground to my cellar. I have a door in the bottom that leads out and away.
I exit at speed, rifle in hand and make my way into the trees. The rumbling in my torso is fading away. I carefully scope out the surroundings.
I see him. Both of his sirens are swinging wildly around and he's flailing his arms to destroy all the houses. He stops suddenly. I keep him in my sight. He's not getting away this time.
It's a very still day. The trees are not rustling. I don't feel the wind on me either. He's precisely 200 meters away. I adjust for elevation, and fire.
If I had ears I would've expected to hear a *ping* off the siren. Instead, I got a tear and lots and lots of blood. I cycle the bolt and fire again, this time hitting him center mass. Siren head likely flash-banged himself with his own noise, because surely he should've heard the report of my rifle. Nope. He just began swinging wildly.
I cycle the bolt. But this time I load a special little package into the 30.06. One armor piercing and explosive round. I slam the round into the chamber. This time I aim for his collar, and I hit it. The bullet tears through Siren head and explodes inside his chest cavity, leaving a gaping hole in his neck and the sirens hanging pitifully by a thread. Siren head lurches, and falls to the ground. Down but not out.
I don't feel any vibrations anymore, so I think it's safe to change location. I try to keep sight of Siren head so that he doesn't get the drop on me. He is lying on the ground, black blood flowing slowly from his wounds. I cycle my bolt and load a fresh magazine into the mag well, slamming new brass into the chamber. I carefully approach siren head up the road, hugging the walls to remain out if sight in the setting sun. He doesn't move. He stirs when I approach him. I shoot Siren head in the chest two more times and wait until all his blood had oozed out.
When the street lights turned on I decided it would be safe to go in. I retrieve the chainsaw from my garage and returned to hack siren head to pieces.
He was gone and so we're all the bodies. Their clothes and belongings were still there but the bodies were not. I sat in my house and thought of what to do.
I decided to just drive away. I had family in South Florida. Maybe I'll just go live with him there. I need to get as far away from this bastard as possible. | |
[WP] You are deaf. One day your fiance tells you, that she could hear piercing noise that's getting stronger. You tell her to go to the doctor. She never came back. As you go out to search for her, you can see bodies everywhere. There is blood pouring from their ears. | The look on her face is stuck in my head.
Carrie suffered from migraines, which to me seems like pure rotten torture. There’s medications that somewhat help, and therapy techniques to reduce stress, but the attacks always find her. This one had been a particularly bad one.
She clamped her ears as we were in the middle of dinner, dropping her fork and splattering salmon across the table. For a split second she looked at me to see if I could hear it too, but she knew I wouldn’t. I haven’t heard anything my entire life. With her migraines and my deafness, we were quite the pair.
Carrie signed that her ears felt like they were about to pop from a loud noise, like an intensely high pitch. I asked if her head hurt too. She squinted through strained eyes and said not yet, but it was probably coming. And that she should probably tell Dr. Marcus she had a new symptom. When she couldn’t focus to dial her phone, we decided it best if she run to the hospital to see if he was there.
I insisted on driving her, but she didn’t want to make me go through the trouble.
*It’s fine, I just need to get there soon before my head explodes,* she signed. *Have some ice cream and some valium waiting for me when I get back.*
She didn’t take her hands off her ears as she gave me a kiss and walked out the door.
Four hours later, the salmon is still sitting on the table. I clean things up and try texting her cell to see what was up. Nothing goes through. Maybe service is just shoddy right now, or maybe her phone died. Either way, I’m getting worried.
The warmth of the summer air hits me as I leave the shelter of our air-conditioned home. Carrie had stopped me from driving her, but she can’t stop me from coming to find her now. I suppress the initial flush of adrenaline from mental images of her in a car accident somewhere, ‘*your fault’* written in her blood. God why didn’t I just drive her myself?
My panic flourishes when I come around the corner of the garage to see legs splayed out in the street.
*Shit, Carrie!* I scream in my head, but it’s not Carrie.
It’s Doug from next door. My immediate relief is pushed back by common sense, and I rush over to see what’s wrong. I notice blood on the concrete around him, spilling from his ears and down his unconscious face. I look around to see if I can wave for any help, but the people I see nearby aren’t going to help.
They’re unconscious too.
There’s at least one or two bodies on the ground outside every home on the block, as if they had all run out of their houses to have a heart attack the minute they came outside. I’m starting to think Carrie wasn’t having a migraine.
I need to find her – *now*.
I mentally apologize to Doug, and run to my car parked on the street. The metal is baked from the sun and hot to the touch, but I’m not sure I really care about *my* wellbeing at this point. I jump into the suffocating air of the car and start to turn the key, when I feel the soft rumble of earth below me.
*Now is not the time for an earthquake*, I think.
But it’s getting stronger, rattling me and the car with increasing strength. The air freshener on the rearview is swaying as the ground bounces below. But it doesn’t feel like an earthquake to me. It feels like something heavy is hammering at the ground, shaking the soil as it moves.
And it feels like it’s coming this way.
\---------
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/user/canyoufeelthat/comments/gsggnh/the_sound_part_ii/) if anyone is interested! (more parts to come) | I have been deaf all of my life. When my wife complained of a “strong ringing” in both her ears, I had no idea how bad it was. I had never thought of any sound as bad sound, or dangerous sound, or scary sound, or anything apart from being a delight to hear. Therefore, I had been bitter and resentful, rolling my eyes, as I signed, “Why don’t you go to the doctor?”
Mary, my wife, did exactly that. Without signing goodbye, a kiss, or even a single touch, she grabbed the keys and left the house. Two hours later and she was still gone. I shot her a text, and didn’t think much of it. With no appointment, she’d surely be waiting for a while. And surely, it wasn’t an emergency. Still, I felt my heart slightly throbbing with guilt, regret that I hadn’t been nicer, that I hadn’t gone with her.
I sent another text.
Another hour passed, and I grew concerned. By then, I had sent her nineteen texts. When I thought her phone might be dead, I decided to call her. It went straight to voicemail. I paced around the house for a few more minutes, trying to decide whether it was a good thing that her phone had been dead, when I finally decided to get an uber and go to the doctor. But when I opened up the app and requested an uber in my area, there were none locally. Absolutely none. Surely, I lived in the suburbs, but it was a densely populated area. Having only one car between me and my wife, I’ve used uber many times before. I’ve never had a problem requesting a car.
I’d just have to borrow my neighbor’s car.
I grabbed my coat and my phone charger, in case Mary responded, and I went out the front door. We lived on a cul-de-sac, separated from the other houses by a long, lengthy road, and it was just me and my neighbor and one other house that’s been vacant ever since we moved in. My wife has said the neighbor’s kids are loud and chippy, but I joke it’s always been nice and quiet for me.
When I knock on my neighbor’s door, I glance into his driveway, registering that his car is here. It is. A blue minivan, with many scratches and scrapes. It was their only car, so I knew they must have been home. Also, it was a Sunday, and there was no way the Greenbergs were working on God’s day. In fact, they probably had just gotten back from church.
But when nobody answered, I found myself knocking again, this time more frantically. As I did, I pulled out my phone, checking if Mary responded. She didn’t. I knocked on the door once more. Two minutes later, I took a step down from the front porch and almost slapped myself in the face as I looked over to the gate to their backyard and remembered they invited me over today. They’d be grilling, and Susan Greenberg insisted her husband bought enough burgers to feed an entire village. It had been a thing, something I was invited to often. Though I never went, never really cared to. I wasn’t a very neighborly man.
I regretted all of this as I stood in Greenberg's backyard and found them both laying on the ground, disjointed, in pools of blood. Quickly, I covered my eyes and stumbled back. I pulled out my phone, dialed the cops. Before I could even think of how I’d be able to communicate with the police on the phone, the line cut off. It ended abruptly, like it was a busy line. The police were busy. How many people were calling in? Nothing bad ever happened around here.
I panicked, running up to Susan first, who lay with her face in the grass. I knelt down besides her and hesitantly flipped her over, finding blood smeared all over her face. I winced, pulling back, but as I looked again, I realized she had no gashes. No wounds. Not even a scratch. Then I saw the blood pouring slowly from her ears.
Immediately, I found myself flipping over Mr. Greenberg, Jeffrey I think his name was, and finding the same thing. No wounds. Just blood pouring from the ears. I pulled back and realized I had gotten blood on my hands. I wiped it on my shirt, before taking out my phone and trying the police again.
Nothing.
Then I remembered the kids. Shit.
I swept into the house through the backyard’s sliding glass doors, which had been left ajar. I’d only been in Greenberg's house, but I faintly remember the layout. I found my way into the kitchen and, as I lay my eyes on her, felt the rich, hoarse scream develop in my throat. Their little girl lay on the ground in a pool of blood. | |
[WP] A demon can always turn someone's wishes into the most horrible of curses. But your wishes are so stupid and asinine that not even the greatest archdemon can turn them against you. | "So I get three wishes? Anything I want?" I asked.
"Yes, human. Three wishes. But be warned altering the web of fate to give you your desires can have... Catastrophic consequences." This dark mist spoke back. "What is your first wish Human?"
I thought a moment, knowing something of contracts. If this demon or Djinn or whatever it was thought I was going to buy some flimsy explanation about consequences after saying I could wish for anything and have it be made so... Well it was about to be rudely disabused of it's assumptions.
"I wish that neither myself nor anyone I love and/or care about will be negatively affected in any way by any of these wishes." I wished with an absolutely straight face.
The mist coalesced into an ordinary looking man with red eyes. He had a look of complete bewilderment and shock on his face. Clearly he hadn't considered the possibility of using one of the wishes to protect ones self. "It doesn't work like that! The web of Fate-"
"You said I could wish for absolutely anything. Was that not correct?" I broke in, looking to pin this idiot down on the specifics.
"Well, yes, but you-"
"No buts, that was a yes/no question. Either it's absolutely true, or it's not. Pick one."
The demon was visibly fighting with itself. It gave away every emotion, almost every thought with each change of expression. It must not be very practiced at using human form.
"Yes it's true. Anything." It admitted grudgingly.
"Very well, my first wished stands as stated." I said, continuing on my course.
'How was this the first human the first one in thousands of years to so quickly see and identify the loophole in the contract?' Driaghnan thought. There was going to be trouble over this. Someone was going spend a few hundred years hanging by their heels over this little performance. He just hoped it wasn't him. He bowed his head and granted the first wish. | It's so stupid how, how, I've done this job since the earth was young, to the point it became routine. Get summoned listen to wish, twist wish, cause human to be miserable. That's it. Oh and the wishes I would get some easy "I wish I was rich," oh you fool yes it would seems all good an old long lost uncle died and left you their money. HA. They're to busy wondering if it's real to ask the real questions. Like why was that uncle lost? how did he get that fortune? Turns out war criminals are very easy to say they are related to anyone and leave their fortune of stolen whatever to who ever a demon says when they know their time is near. "eternal youth" Ha "be famous through out history" fine. Pompeii was to easy, I was kind I gave them a day. But this fool, this idiot how did he even summon me, don't get me wrong I've done it all those that would summon me and spend decades preparing getting there wish just right. most wouldn't realize many words have multiple meaning, or would stumble over their words as I saw me and my "menacing movements" as if i would just sit quietly and listen to their wish waiting and eager to listen to their words as if they where I don"t know anything not boring. One wish that is all it would take but this fool he wished to "see me" he already has hasn't he? | |
[WP] A demon can always turn someone's wishes into the most horrible of curses. But your wishes are so stupid and asinine that not even the greatest archdemon can turn them against you. | The red-skinned, scaly beast arched its long body down to the mortal. Its orange and gold eyes laid upon the human with wicked disdain and menacing mischief.
"To you, small mortal, I shall grant wishes three--your dreams and desires brought to be! However, beware, for that which you choose shall become the fate that devours you!"
The mortal straightened his hockey jersey and looked up through his hazy eyes. "Knee hats."
"Knee... Wait, what did you say?"
"Knee hats, bro."
"... What is that?"
"Well you know what a knee is..."
"Yes."
"You know what a hat is..."
"... Yes..."
The man pantomimed a hat going on to his knee. "Knee hats."
The demon coiled his body to bring his face down closer to the mortal. "I feel I haven't explained this very well."
"No one's perfect bro."
"Okay. You can have ANYTHING... Anything you want. Literally. Gold, women, fame. Anything."
"Oh!"
Relief swept across the demon's face and he lifted his body up again. "Now, earthly being, what is your choice?"
"You know those gloves where they have the fingers cutt off?"
The beast was silent.
"When I wear them in the winter, my fingers get cold. So a pair of those, but, like, the opposite."
"Hold on. You want gloves but only... The finger tips?"
"Like the last inch, yeah."
"Because in the winter..."
"My fingers get cold."
"..."
"It's because of the diabetes."
The demon puffed out its cheeks in consternation. What's a better way to pitch this?
"Okay, listen. Let's start over, shall we? From the top."
"Alright."
"I am the arch-demon Kazitrax, fulfilled of wishes, keeper of curses. And you are..."
"Paul. From the bowling alley."
"Okay, Paul. You get three wishes. Whatever you want. Do you like comic books, Paul."
"Yes!"
"Wonderful! Would you like super powers, Paul?"
"Definitely!"
"Outstanding! We're making progress! What super power, more than any other, would you like, Paul?"
Paul took off his Indianapolis Colts cap and ran his fingers through his long hair. "Oh man..."
"Take your time. Make it a good one!"
"I've got it!" He returned the cap to his head.
"What have you got, Paul! ?"
Paul showed the demon the joint he fished from his locks. "Thought I lost you, little guy."
"WHAT IS YOUR WISH, PAUL?"
"Oh yeah. Sweat pants, right, but they breathe and you can wear them to, like, Target. So like, uh...
"PANTS!?"
Paul snapped his fingers and pointed to the demon. "You get it." | It's so stupid how, how, I've done this job since the earth was young, to the point it became routine. Get summoned listen to wish, twist wish, cause human to be miserable. That's it. Oh and the wishes I would get some easy "I wish I was rich," oh you fool yes it would seems all good an old long lost uncle died and left you their money. HA. They're to busy wondering if it's real to ask the real questions. Like why was that uncle lost? how did he get that fortune? Turns out war criminals are very easy to say they are related to anyone and leave their fortune of stolen whatever to who ever a demon says when they know their time is near. "eternal youth" Ha "be famous through out history" fine. Pompeii was to easy, I was kind I gave them a day. But this fool, this idiot how did he even summon me, don't get me wrong I've done it all those that would summon me and spend decades preparing getting there wish just right. most wouldn't realize many words have multiple meaning, or would stumble over their words as I saw me and my "menacing movements" as if i would just sit quietly and listen to their wish waiting and eager to listen to their words as if they where I don"t know anything not boring. One wish that is all it would take but this fool he wished to "see me" he already has hasn't he? | |
[WP] A demon can always turn someone's wishes into the most horrible of curses. But your wishes are so stupid and asinine that not even the greatest archdemon can turn them against you. | "Three wishes? You sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright! I'm going to change the world. Yeah, man, it'd be nice if there were no such thing as mosquitoes, you know? Or, wait, I got it! I wish that mosquitoes were nice and polite to us and always used their turn signals so we'd know where they're flying."
". . ."
"Don't give me that face, Just think about it. We have airplanes and stuff, right? Traffic controllers. So just use turn signals on mosquitoes. That's my first wish."
"Not, riches? World unity? You sure you don't want to wish for unity? I love it when they wish for unity."
"Nah, man, nice polite mosquitoes. With turn signals. That'll help out my wife, see, she gets so fed up with the little critters."
"Um. . . well, granted. Mosquitoes will now. . . use their. . . turn signals."
"You alright? Need a drink? You sound a little off. Ooh! I wish that you had a nice drink of water that you would be happy with. There! That should work, right?"
"I have never been so delighted by a human's idiocy before, and the fact that it's only my own power making it possible is simultaneously thrilling and nauseating. Please, just wish to be rich or something. Please."
"You think I should change my name? I dunno, that sound like a hassle. 'sides, I really don't feel like a Rich. Maybe Lo."
"It's times like this that I'm grateful for my inability to comprehend humans."
"Oh, you poor thing! I wish you could understand humans better."
"No, no, it doesn't work like that--"
"Doesn't it? I mean, we already fixed mosquitoes, so what else is there for me to wish for? It's better that you get the wishes anyway, since you're the one with the magic. How often do people let you have water instead of asking for money or whatever? Not often, I bet. So enjoy it. And yes, I wish you could better understand humans."
"You have no idea how much I hate you right n--"
"Watch out!"
"?"
"Mosquito incoming."
". . ."
"See? I told you I would change the world!" | It's so stupid how, how, I've done this job since the earth was young, to the point it became routine. Get summoned listen to wish, twist wish, cause human to be miserable. That's it. Oh and the wishes I would get some easy "I wish I was rich," oh you fool yes it would seems all good an old long lost uncle died and left you their money. HA. They're to busy wondering if it's real to ask the real questions. Like why was that uncle lost? how did he get that fortune? Turns out war criminals are very easy to say they are related to anyone and leave their fortune of stolen whatever to who ever a demon says when they know their time is near. "eternal youth" Ha "be famous through out history" fine. Pompeii was to easy, I was kind I gave them a day. But this fool, this idiot how did he even summon me, don't get me wrong I've done it all those that would summon me and spend decades preparing getting there wish just right. most wouldn't realize many words have multiple meaning, or would stumble over their words as I saw me and my "menacing movements" as if i would just sit quietly and listen to their wish waiting and eager to listen to their words as if they where I don"t know anything not boring. One wish that is all it would take but this fool he wished to "see me" he already has hasn't he? |
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