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This is a different kind of writing than the habitual fiction prompts we see here. I love Jeopardy, and I actually think this will be a challenge because a good Jeopardy clue has to be easy enough to be solvable, but exclusive enough to not have multiple answers.
**Edit:** The objective here is not to be an ad for a subreddit, but to cleverly describe it like a clue/riddle on Jeopardy.
I'll put a few clues in the comments as an example.
| [WP] Write a "Jeopardy!" clue about a subreddit or website. | Never, ever go to *this* subreddit, unless you're new, in which case you should totally check it out. | "Want to know if Superman is stronger than your favorite Power Ranger? You might want to check out *this* subreddit." |
[WP] A Super Hero and his arch nemesis have alter egos. They work in the same office. On the same day they discover each other's true identities. | 'There was no way this could be right' Tom thought glancing of at Jim across the lunch table eating a salad. 'Boring Jim Gregory, Mighty Man? He's so mild mannered' he thought staring at his Coworker. He'd never believe it if the evidence wasn't there, the scratch he'd given him across the forehead, the broken finger. It was exactly the same blows he'd landed the night before as the Crimson Kremlin.
Tom kept studying him as Jim looked up "Hey Tom buddy are you alright, is there something on my face?" he asked shaking Tom out of his thoughts.
"No I'm fine, Just thinking of that expense report we need to get in this afternoon, we're going to get picked apart by Lucy in accounting" he said chuckling Jim joining in
"Don't worry about, I'm sure we'll do fine" he said secretly staring at Tom as well. 'It's exactly the same, the same radiation luminescence that the Kremlin had on him from the Higgs Crystal he stole last night' he thought knowing there was no way Tom could have touched the crystal on accident.
The crystal had been locked out tight till the Kremlin had broke it free of it's containment pod. There was no doubting it Tom was the Crimson Kremlin. The real question was did he know Jim was Mighty Man? Jim had invited Tom over many times, who knows what sinister tricks he'd left there.
"Hey Jim want to take the rest of lunch outside?" he asked standing up. If Tom was Mighty Man he was ending it today.
"Sounds Good, I was about to ask you the the same" he said smiling. 'Get ready Crimson Kremlin, your not getting away from this one' he thought as the two of them headed up to the roof.
"Citiburg is sure beautiful this time of day" Tom said walking up to the ledge "Come take a look" he said motioning Jim over
"Sure old friend" he said walking to his side
"I know your secret Tom"
"Oh yeah I think I know yours too Jim"
"Than you should see this coming, Mighty Man" he said grabbing Jim jumping off the edge
"I knew it, you Crimson scum, well fools on you I'll just fly out of here" he said holding his arms out his eyes widening "I forgot my super suit in my locker" he said
"Ha, ha, Well old foe I suppose this is the end. I'll be seeing you" he said posing as well when...nothing happened. Tom grimaced "I forgot my suit too"
"Well old foe seems like this is the end for both of us, it's been interesting fighting you all these years. I must say it was ingenious of you to pose as my friend to gain access to my home"
"I guess if we're being honest, I can't say I've hated fighting you all these years either, and to be honest I had no idea until today you were Mighty Man. I just liked hanging out with you. Watching Baseball, Flying model planes. You were my best friend Jim"
"Huh suppose when it comes down to it we're not too different, Good Bye Tom my old friend"
"Good Bye Jim hopefully we'll meet again" he said as both braced themselves for the ground, but it never came.
"Very beautiful boys, quite touching but next time could you not jump off buildings without your super suits, It's bad for business" a woman's voice said that sounded quite familiar.
"Lucy?!" Both men said looking over at their savior, Lucy from accounting decked out in full amazon gear
"I prefer Amazezon when I'm in costume. Now come on you two you have an expense report meeting to get to" | Peter sat down at his desk, mug in one hand, newspaper in the other.
He took a sip of the sugar/coffee concoction in his hand and dropped the newspaper on his desk-mate's keyboard, a story about last night's excitement at the bank on the front page.
Eric sat down at his desk a short time after, looking haggard. He sighed when he saw the artist's rendering of men fighting on the paper.
"This again, Pete?" Eric scoffed, "Why are you so obsessed with this guy?"
"I just think he's neat," replied Peter. "Why do you hate him so much?"
Eric rubbed his stiff neck. "I don't 'hate' him, I just don't like perpetuating the whole 'masked hero' bullshit."
Eric tossed the paper onto Peter's desk, and pressed the power button on his computer. His hands ached, and the pressure sent a streak of pain up his arm. He released a small groan.
Peter spun his chair to face Eric. "Did you get up to anything this weekend?"
"Nothing much. Went to the bank, paid some bills, watched the game."
Peter let out a small laugh. "You didn't happen to go to First National, did you?"
Eric faced Peter. "Why?"
"That's the bank Rampage robbed last night. Kicked the shit out of Mr. E, too."
"Isn't Mr. E bulletproof or something?"
Peter shook his head. "No, it's a bulletproof suit."
Eric leaned toward the newspaper, skimming the story. "Does it say that in there?"
Peter coughed, and turned back to his work. "Just a hunch."
Eric eyed Peter. "Do you have a lot of hunches about E?"
Peter continued tapping on keys. "I really better get to work."
"Has the newspaper ever said anything about the way his mask works? Is it a zipper in the back, or-"
"I don't want to talk about it, Eric."
Eric leaned in closer. "You always want to talk about E, Pete. You're his biggest fan."
"Still, I should have finished this on Friday."
Eric went back to his computer, and started working. "You want to get lunch, later? I'm buying."
Peter glanced at his friend. "Aren't you the guy who always wants to go 50/50?"
Eric grinned. "I came into some money recently. Besides," He returned Peter's gaze. "I think we need to talk."
(Sorry for the ambiguous ending, I felt like I was writing a bit long there.) | |
[WP] A Super Hero and his arch nemesis have alter egos. They work in the same office. On the same day they discover each other's true identities. | Eagle
This is it. We've finally done it. Crow - the ever present threat to order and justice - finally unmasked. It took many years and great sacrifices. Iron Shield - your sacrifice will not be in vain! You may have lost your life fighting the enemy, but your work has led to her downfall! In just a few moments the fax will come in, revealing once and for all the true face of our enemy!
__
Crow
The boy had been eager. Disgusting, how they use such young kids to further their dogmatic ideals. What use is justice when it's built on broken ground? If it weren't for that damned Eagle I could have fixed it! No one had to die, but then he showed up, spouting empty words like order and justice. But finally, finally, I've found his identity. My allies are scanning the global database, and tonight I will finally see his true face! All I need to do is make sure I get the fax.
__
Eagle
While waiting outside I saw one of my coworkers. "Hey Kate, how's it going?" She jumped a bit when I spoke, but quickly regained her composure.
"Oh hey Dave. I didn't see you there." She was standing by the watercooler sipping from one of those crappy plastic cups. "Sorry, I'm just a little stressed out right now."
"Oh tell me about it. There's so much work right now and the vendor is shaky. It's just a complete mess."
"Yeah. I've tried talking to someone about it but they keep insisting that 'we have always used that vender and they have never let us down.' I swear, upper management is blind."
I always enjoyed chatting with Kate. We get along very well. Our opinions don't always match up well, but I can't fault her intentions or her ability. She always makes things work out smoothly whenever she gets involved. "So, Kate, what are you waiting for right now? Seeing as you're not on a computer I can only assume someone else is slowing you down."
"Oh it's nothing too important. I'm just waiting for an important fax. It has product codes and information I need. It was supposed to get here a few minutes ago, so it should come up any moment."
I left my straight pose and leaned against the wall. "Hah that sounds like my situation. I just need a fax so that I can put some customer information into the database." I was a little more relaxed than before, but I absolutely needed to get that fax. It was already risky enough sending it over a public line, and I'm sure Kate would find some way to use the information if she got there first.
__
Crow
Dave was a nice fellow. He could be a little too conservative at time, but he always has good intentions and things were always orderly and consistent whenever he was involved. Working with him has always been nice, and I'm happy we were on the same team this time. Still, this was a stressful moment. I had to make sure I got that fax - it was already risky enough sending the information over a public line, and Dave would certainly turn over the information to the authorities if he saw it first.
bzzt. whirr. vhoom. vhoom. The fax machine roared to life, and both of us rushed into the fax room. I put my hand on the paper output, and Dave put his hand down slightly slower. "Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure this is mine." I spoke, calmly and firmly.
"I'm waiting for an important fax too, that might be mine." He responded with equal firmness. For a brief moment we stood there eyes locked and hands firm. Then, after that moment faded, the fax whirred to life once more. Dave looked down first and immediately grabbed the second sheet of paper. "Actually this one's mine, sorry about that." He pulled away and immediately began scanning the paper. I watched him for a brief moment, and then snapped my page up. I scanned the words quickly. "Eagle, male, caucasian, name..." I paused, not believing the words. "Name... Dave Thornbeak."
My head snapped to the side, my eyes fully open. If I lacked even the tiniest amount of poise my mouth would have been completely ajar. Dave was standing in the same pose, staring back at me with intensity and disbelief.
The silence was punctuated by the load creak of the door opening. It was John, one of our other coworkers. "Hey, uh, have either of you seen a fax come in? I'm waiting on something pretty important."
We both lost it. John stood there confused while the two of us laughed and laughed. I braced myself against the wall to keep from losing my footing. Dave? It was Dave? I mean he's smart, but I wouldn't have imagined he'd do anything that crazy in his life.
After standing in the doorwar for an uncomfortable amount of time, John quietly muttered. "I guess I'll check back later."
__
Eagle
Kate? Seriously? I mean sure she's talented, but I didn't think she cared about anything that strongly. I can't imagine her going home and somberly, seriously, and dedicatedly donning such a ridiculous costume! I couldn't hold my footing any further and fell to the ground doubled over. She had to have worked on those speeches for weeks if not months! She had to say such ridiculous things. I can't even imagine her speaking to the whole engineering team, much less addressing an entire country!
I vaguely noticed John leave at some point. A while later Kate managed to compose herself, although she was still grinning. I figured I should do the same, and slowly worked my way back to my feet. I like to think I held a straight face, but realistically I was grinning full force.
I spoke first, trying to act serious but failing. "I suppose this means we're enemies."
Kate, on the other hand, didn't even pretend to be serious. "Clearly the time for mild mannered office work has ended! It is time, for fisticuffs!" She punctuated her words with loud chuckles and playfully raised her fists.
I laughed for a moment before I could respond. "Clearly you are correct." A brief pause. "Seriously though, this is a bit of a problem."
Kate lowered her firsts and dropped her grin. "Oh come on, can't you have a little bit of fun? This is a ridiculous situation, it calls for ridiculous responses."
"We can't just joke about this."
"Why not? Nothing says we have to kill eachother right now. Besides, if I kill you right now I'll be late for tonight's staff meeting."
"Oh god." My heart sank. "I completely forgot about that staff meeting. I'm not ready at all."
"How about this then? We both get ready for the staff meeting, and work things out tomorrow. I'm not really in the mood for a big climactic battle right now anyway."
"You really have no respect for rules, do you?" I snapped back.
"Not when they get in the way."
"You really are a monster." I glared at her.
Kate suddenly looked back at me, her facial expression tense and serious. "You're the one who's a monster. I just don't have the heart to kill you right now."
"I'm not a murderder!" I was angry. I screamed at her. If anyone was walking by they probably heard me, but I didn't care at this point. How could she justify herself? After what she's done?
"You claim to not be a murderer, and yet you put children in harm's way." Kate stood up and leaned forward imposingly. "You're as much as murderer as I am, I'm just honest about it. I have goals - ideals - and I am willing to do what it takes to suceed. You are locked into your own personal prison, and want to lock everyone else up into that same prison. And because you're locked up you can't even do what's necessary. So instead of just fixing things you make things even worse because you don't let yourself win."
"Then what about you?" I shot back. "You claim to be helping people, but all I've ever seen you do is kill and destroy. Every time you leave someplace it's in shambles, and I have to come in and clean up. You have no sense of order, no sense of structure. You leave places broken, and I fix them! You are the monster destroying society!"
We both glared at eachother for a while. It was over a minute before either one of us moved, but simultaneously we broke eye contact and gathered our things. I spoke first.
"The meeting's at six."
"Yeah I'll see you there."
We both quietly left the room and returned to our cubicles. | Peter sat down at his desk, mug in one hand, newspaper in the other.
He took a sip of the sugar/coffee concoction in his hand and dropped the newspaper on his desk-mate's keyboard, a story about last night's excitement at the bank on the front page.
Eric sat down at his desk a short time after, looking haggard. He sighed when he saw the artist's rendering of men fighting on the paper.
"This again, Pete?" Eric scoffed, "Why are you so obsessed with this guy?"
"I just think he's neat," replied Peter. "Why do you hate him so much?"
Eric rubbed his stiff neck. "I don't 'hate' him, I just don't like perpetuating the whole 'masked hero' bullshit."
Eric tossed the paper onto Peter's desk, and pressed the power button on his computer. His hands ached, and the pressure sent a streak of pain up his arm. He released a small groan.
Peter spun his chair to face Eric. "Did you get up to anything this weekend?"
"Nothing much. Went to the bank, paid some bills, watched the game."
Peter let out a small laugh. "You didn't happen to go to First National, did you?"
Eric faced Peter. "Why?"
"That's the bank Rampage robbed last night. Kicked the shit out of Mr. E, too."
"Isn't Mr. E bulletproof or something?"
Peter shook his head. "No, it's a bulletproof suit."
Eric leaned toward the newspaper, skimming the story. "Does it say that in there?"
Peter coughed, and turned back to his work. "Just a hunch."
Eric eyed Peter. "Do you have a lot of hunches about E?"
Peter continued tapping on keys. "I really better get to work."
"Has the newspaper ever said anything about the way his mask works? Is it a zipper in the back, or-"
"I don't want to talk about it, Eric."
Eric leaned in closer. "You always want to talk about E, Pete. You're his biggest fan."
"Still, I should have finished this on Friday."
Eric went back to his computer, and started working. "You want to get lunch, later? I'm buying."
Peter glanced at his friend. "Aren't you the guy who always wants to go 50/50?"
Eric grinned. "I came into some money recently. Besides," He returned Peter's gaze. "I think we need to talk."
(Sorry for the ambiguous ending, I felt like I was writing a bit long there.) | |
[WP] A Super Hero and his arch nemesis have alter egos. They work in the same office. On the same day they discover each other's true identities. | Heather in sales always looked familiar to Frank, but he can never place why. She looked young. Maybe she was some make a wish kid he visited in a hospital or a victim of some accident or supervillain he rescued. It's not like he knew many blind people after all. Frank always trusted his gut. Many supervillains try to hide in plain sight. But the little tests he made always worked. Move an object and she loses track of it. Power off the lights and she doesn't react. Even working late on her own she never looks at the screen, only uses her braille pad.
Then her hard drive failed. Frank was always prompt, the most professional IT guy a company can want. He needs to be, to make up for a lousy attendance record. He knew this would be longer than usual, as she needed a special suite of software and couldn't use the standard setup.
"I hope you didn't lose too much with the drive, Heather. I know not everyone remembers to backup."
"It's okay. I've lost nothing. This hunk is 10 years old. I don't trust it as far as I can throw it."
"I'm pleasantly surprised."
"You're not the first man I've surprised this week with a backup." She laughed at a private joke.
Frank took a moment to really look at her. She seemed to be looking at him. But that's just the glasses. He knew her eyes were closed, as always. She must just be facing him to hear him better. Then he noticed her hair cut, and a slight singe on her hair on the left side. "What happened to your hair?"
"Oh a barbeque, courtesy of a friend who recently lost his sight. We're like the blind leading the blind." She gave a smile. "How goes the resurrection?"
"Resur- Oh, almost done. Just about two minutes then we have to initiate your system passwords again." He looked back to the screen. Why died he feel like a blind woman was looking right through him. "So I heard you were a Christian Scientist too."
"Not really. I just said that to get out of the health plan. I don't really do health. Sally in HR should learn to shut her mouth. Oh, I'm sorry. She told me Frances was a Christian Scientist when I started. I didn't realize that was you. I'm sorry if that offends you."
"No, not at all." In truth Frank filled out the HR forms looking to come across as fundie as possible so he would have an excuse for not socializing outside work. Typical Sally playing office matchmaker. But something in Heather's playful tone was setting off alarm bells. Something she said. A blind barbeque? Do they do that? He heard about a Supervillain being blinded recently. Did she know Dante? She probably works with the recently blind at the hospital. That's why she was familiar. But why would she be averse to healthcare? No, not healthcare. She said health.
"What's wrong, Frank? You've gone silent on me. If you were going to ask me out you should have the courtesy to take off your ring first."
"I.. I'm not, I mean I wasn't, wait how did you know I had a ring on?"
"I heard it clink when you were changing the drive. It's not gold or silver, so it perked my interest. Can I see it?" She held out her hands. Frank placed his hand in hers. "Oh, sorry, it's your middle finger, huh? Wow what is this made of? It's warmer than your hand." He started to pull back but she was stronger than her slight frame suggested. Only too late did he remember, the ring hides it's appearance as simply jewellery as easily as it summons his costume, but the power is always there. He can feel it. But he never realized someone else could too.
Frank pulled back more forcefully. Heather was ignoring him, looking at the imprint of his sigil burnt into her fingertip from her attempt to steal his ring. She looked up at him. Her head never moved. She still had her black glasses on. But the two red pinpoints of her gaze drilled into him. "Lightblade," he whispered. His eyes scanned her and her cubicle. Nothing obviously big enough for a sword, but she is able to hide them, he knows from experience.
"Not for another..." She pressed a button on her watch. A metallic voice chimed '10:37 AM.' "Seven hours or so. But I have work to do, Moonbeam."
"But...why?"
"I can't exactly claim supervillain on my taxes, can I?" Lightblade closed her eyes and was back to being Heather, the cute little blind salesgirl that makes everyone feel good about working for an equal opportunity employer. She raised her voice, "is it ready for my pass code yet? Don't listen in now!"
Frank realized that the other salespeople were coming back from their meeting. He bent toward her and growled, "this isn't over."
"You're using you Moonbeam voice," she whispered playfully, then louder: "This is taking forever. I missed the whole meeting."
| Peter sat down at his desk, mug in one hand, newspaper in the other.
He took a sip of the sugar/coffee concoction in his hand and dropped the newspaper on his desk-mate's keyboard, a story about last night's excitement at the bank on the front page.
Eric sat down at his desk a short time after, looking haggard. He sighed when he saw the artist's rendering of men fighting on the paper.
"This again, Pete?" Eric scoffed, "Why are you so obsessed with this guy?"
"I just think he's neat," replied Peter. "Why do you hate him so much?"
Eric rubbed his stiff neck. "I don't 'hate' him, I just don't like perpetuating the whole 'masked hero' bullshit."
Eric tossed the paper onto Peter's desk, and pressed the power button on his computer. His hands ached, and the pressure sent a streak of pain up his arm. He released a small groan.
Peter spun his chair to face Eric. "Did you get up to anything this weekend?"
"Nothing much. Went to the bank, paid some bills, watched the game."
Peter let out a small laugh. "You didn't happen to go to First National, did you?"
Eric faced Peter. "Why?"
"That's the bank Rampage robbed last night. Kicked the shit out of Mr. E, too."
"Isn't Mr. E bulletproof or something?"
Peter shook his head. "No, it's a bulletproof suit."
Eric leaned toward the newspaper, skimming the story. "Does it say that in there?"
Peter coughed, and turned back to his work. "Just a hunch."
Eric eyed Peter. "Do you have a lot of hunches about E?"
Peter continued tapping on keys. "I really better get to work."
"Has the newspaper ever said anything about the way his mask works? Is it a zipper in the back, or-"
"I don't want to talk about it, Eric."
Eric leaned in closer. "You always want to talk about E, Pete. You're his biggest fan."
"Still, I should have finished this on Friday."
Eric went back to his computer, and started working. "You want to get lunch, later? I'm buying."
Peter glanced at his friend. "Aren't you the guy who always wants to go 50/50?"
Eric grinned. "I came into some money recently. Besides," He returned Peter's gaze. "I think we need to talk."
(Sorry for the ambiguous ending, I felt like I was writing a bit long there.) | |
[WP] A Super Hero and his arch nemesis have alter egos. They work in the same office. On the same day they discover each other's true identities. | Eagle
This is it. We've finally done it. Crow - the ever present threat to order and justice - finally unmasked. It took many years and great sacrifices. Iron Shield - your sacrifice will not be in vain! You may have lost your life fighting the enemy, but your work has led to her downfall! In just a few moments the fax will come in, revealing once and for all the true face of our enemy!
__
Crow
The boy had been eager. Disgusting, how they use such young kids to further their dogmatic ideals. What use is justice when it's built on broken ground? If it weren't for that damned Eagle I could have fixed it! No one had to die, but then he showed up, spouting empty words like order and justice. But finally, finally, I've found his identity. My allies are scanning the global database, and tonight I will finally see his true face! All I need to do is make sure I get the fax.
__
Eagle
While waiting outside I saw one of my coworkers. "Hey Kate, how's it going?" She jumped a bit when I spoke, but quickly regained her composure.
"Oh hey Dave. I didn't see you there." She was standing by the watercooler sipping from one of those crappy plastic cups. "Sorry, I'm just a little stressed out right now."
"Oh tell me about it. There's so much work right now and the vendor is shaky. It's just a complete mess."
"Yeah. I've tried talking to someone about it but they keep insisting that 'we have always used that vender and they have never let us down.' I swear, upper management is blind."
I always enjoyed chatting with Kate. We get along very well. Our opinions don't always match up well, but I can't fault her intentions or her ability. She always makes things work out smoothly whenever she gets involved. "So, Kate, what are you waiting for right now? Seeing as you're not on a computer I can only assume someone else is slowing you down."
"Oh it's nothing too important. I'm just waiting for an important fax. It has product codes and information I need. It was supposed to get here a few minutes ago, so it should come up any moment."
I left my straight pose and leaned against the wall. "Hah that sounds like my situation. I just need a fax so that I can put some customer information into the database." I was a little more relaxed than before, but I absolutely needed to get that fax. It was already risky enough sending it over a public line, and I'm sure Kate would find some way to use the information if she got there first.
__
Crow
Dave was a nice fellow. He could be a little too conservative at time, but he always has good intentions and things were always orderly and consistent whenever he was involved. Working with him has always been nice, and I'm happy we were on the same team this time. Still, this was a stressful moment. I had to make sure I got that fax - it was already risky enough sending the information over a public line, and Dave would certainly turn over the information to the authorities if he saw it first.
bzzt. whirr. vhoom. vhoom. The fax machine roared to life, and both of us rushed into the fax room. I put my hand on the paper output, and Dave put his hand down slightly slower. "Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure this is mine." I spoke, calmly and firmly.
"I'm waiting for an important fax too, that might be mine." He responded with equal firmness. For a brief moment we stood there eyes locked and hands firm. Then, after that moment faded, the fax whirred to life once more. Dave looked down first and immediately grabbed the second sheet of paper. "Actually this one's mine, sorry about that." He pulled away and immediately began scanning the paper. I watched him for a brief moment, and then snapped my page up. I scanned the words quickly. "Eagle, male, caucasian, name..." I paused, not believing the words. "Name... Dave Thornbeak."
My head snapped to the side, my eyes fully open. If I lacked even the tiniest amount of poise my mouth would have been completely ajar. Dave was standing in the same pose, staring back at me with intensity and disbelief.
The silence was punctuated by the load creak of the door opening. It was John, one of our other coworkers. "Hey, uh, have either of you seen a fax come in? I'm waiting on something pretty important."
We both lost it. John stood there confused while the two of us laughed and laughed. I braced myself against the wall to keep from losing my footing. Dave? It was Dave? I mean he's smart, but I wouldn't have imagined he'd do anything that crazy in his life.
After standing in the doorwar for an uncomfortable amount of time, John quietly muttered. "I guess I'll check back later."
__
Eagle
Kate? Seriously? I mean sure she's talented, but I didn't think she cared about anything that strongly. I can't imagine her going home and somberly, seriously, and dedicatedly donning such a ridiculous costume! I couldn't hold my footing any further and fell to the ground doubled over. She had to have worked on those speeches for weeks if not months! She had to say such ridiculous things. I can't even imagine her speaking to the whole engineering team, much less addressing an entire country!
I vaguely noticed John leave at some point. A while later Kate managed to compose herself, although she was still grinning. I figured I should do the same, and slowly worked my way back to my feet. I like to think I held a straight face, but realistically I was grinning full force.
I spoke first, trying to act serious but failing. "I suppose this means we're enemies."
Kate, on the other hand, didn't even pretend to be serious. "Clearly the time for mild mannered office work has ended! It is time, for fisticuffs!" She punctuated her words with loud chuckles and playfully raised her fists.
I laughed for a moment before I could respond. "Clearly you are correct." A brief pause. "Seriously though, this is a bit of a problem."
Kate lowered her firsts and dropped her grin. "Oh come on, can't you have a little bit of fun? This is a ridiculous situation, it calls for ridiculous responses."
"We can't just joke about this."
"Why not? Nothing says we have to kill eachother right now. Besides, if I kill you right now I'll be late for tonight's staff meeting."
"Oh god." My heart sank. "I completely forgot about that staff meeting. I'm not ready at all."
"How about this then? We both get ready for the staff meeting, and work things out tomorrow. I'm not really in the mood for a big climactic battle right now anyway."
"You really have no respect for rules, do you?" I snapped back.
"Not when they get in the way."
"You really are a monster." I glared at her.
Kate suddenly looked back at me, her facial expression tense and serious. "You're the one who's a monster. I just don't have the heart to kill you right now."
"I'm not a murderder!" I was angry. I screamed at her. If anyone was walking by they probably heard me, but I didn't care at this point. How could she justify herself? After what she's done?
"You claim to not be a murderer, and yet you put children in harm's way." Kate stood up and leaned forward imposingly. "You're as much as murderer as I am, I'm just honest about it. I have goals - ideals - and I am willing to do what it takes to suceed. You are locked into your own personal prison, and want to lock everyone else up into that same prison. And because you're locked up you can't even do what's necessary. So instead of just fixing things you make things even worse because you don't let yourself win."
"Then what about you?" I shot back. "You claim to be helping people, but all I've ever seen you do is kill and destroy. Every time you leave someplace it's in shambles, and I have to come in and clean up. You have no sense of order, no sense of structure. You leave places broken, and I fix them! You are the monster destroying society!"
We both glared at eachother for a while. It was over a minute before either one of us moved, but simultaneously we broke eye contact and gathered our things. I spoke first.
"The meeting's at six."
"Yeah I'll see you there."
We both quietly left the room and returned to our cubicles. | 'There was no way this could be right' Tom thought glancing of at Jim across the lunch table eating a salad. 'Boring Jim Gregory, Mighty Man? He's so mild mannered' he thought staring at his Coworker. He'd never believe it if the evidence wasn't there, the scratch he'd given him across the forehead, the broken finger. It was exactly the same blows he'd landed the night before as the Crimson Kremlin.
Tom kept studying him as Jim looked up "Hey Tom buddy are you alright, is there something on my face?" he asked shaking Tom out of his thoughts.
"No I'm fine, Just thinking of that expense report we need to get in this afternoon, we're going to get picked apart by Lucy in accounting" he said chuckling Jim joining in
"Don't worry about, I'm sure we'll do fine" he said secretly staring at Tom as well. 'It's exactly the same, the same radiation luminescence that the Kremlin had on him from the Higgs Crystal he stole last night' he thought knowing there was no way Tom could have touched the crystal on accident.
The crystal had been locked out tight till the Kremlin had broke it free of it's containment pod. There was no doubting it Tom was the Crimson Kremlin. The real question was did he know Jim was Mighty Man? Jim had invited Tom over many times, who knows what sinister tricks he'd left there.
"Hey Jim want to take the rest of lunch outside?" he asked standing up. If Tom was Mighty Man he was ending it today.
"Sounds Good, I was about to ask you the the same" he said smiling. 'Get ready Crimson Kremlin, your not getting away from this one' he thought as the two of them headed up to the roof.
"Citiburg is sure beautiful this time of day" Tom said walking up to the ledge "Come take a look" he said motioning Jim over
"Sure old friend" he said walking to his side
"I know your secret Tom"
"Oh yeah I think I know yours too Jim"
"Than you should see this coming, Mighty Man" he said grabbing Jim jumping off the edge
"I knew it, you Crimson scum, well fools on you I'll just fly out of here" he said holding his arms out his eyes widening "I forgot my super suit in my locker" he said
"Ha, ha, Well old foe I suppose this is the end. I'll be seeing you" he said posing as well when...nothing happened. Tom grimaced "I forgot my suit too"
"Well old foe seems like this is the end for both of us, it's been interesting fighting you all these years. I must say it was ingenious of you to pose as my friend to gain access to my home"
"I guess if we're being honest, I can't say I've hated fighting you all these years either, and to be honest I had no idea until today you were Mighty Man. I just liked hanging out with you. Watching Baseball, Flying model planes. You were my best friend Jim"
"Huh suppose when it comes down to it we're not too different, Good Bye Tom my old friend"
"Good Bye Jim hopefully we'll meet again" he said as both braced themselves for the ground, but it never came.
"Very beautiful boys, quite touching but next time could you not jump off buildings without your super suits, It's bad for business" a woman's voice said that sounded quite familiar.
"Lucy?!" Both men said looking over at their savior, Lucy from accounting decked out in full amazon gear
"I prefer Amazezon when I'm in costume. Now come on you two you have an expense report meeting to get to" | |
[WP] A Super Hero and his arch nemesis have alter egos. They work in the same office. On the same day they discover each other's true identities. | Heather in sales always looked familiar to Frank, but he can never place why. She looked young. Maybe she was some make a wish kid he visited in a hospital or a victim of some accident or supervillain he rescued. It's not like he knew many blind people after all. Frank always trusted his gut. Many supervillains try to hide in plain sight. But the little tests he made always worked. Move an object and she loses track of it. Power off the lights and she doesn't react. Even working late on her own she never looks at the screen, only uses her braille pad.
Then her hard drive failed. Frank was always prompt, the most professional IT guy a company can want. He needs to be, to make up for a lousy attendance record. He knew this would be longer than usual, as she needed a special suite of software and couldn't use the standard setup.
"I hope you didn't lose too much with the drive, Heather. I know not everyone remembers to backup."
"It's okay. I've lost nothing. This hunk is 10 years old. I don't trust it as far as I can throw it."
"I'm pleasantly surprised."
"You're not the first man I've surprised this week with a backup." She laughed at a private joke.
Frank took a moment to really look at her. She seemed to be looking at him. But that's just the glasses. He knew her eyes were closed, as always. She must just be facing him to hear him better. Then he noticed her hair cut, and a slight singe on her hair on the left side. "What happened to your hair?"
"Oh a barbeque, courtesy of a friend who recently lost his sight. We're like the blind leading the blind." She gave a smile. "How goes the resurrection?"
"Resur- Oh, almost done. Just about two minutes then we have to initiate your system passwords again." He looked back to the screen. Why died he feel like a blind woman was looking right through him. "So I heard you were a Christian Scientist too."
"Not really. I just said that to get out of the health plan. I don't really do health. Sally in HR should learn to shut her mouth. Oh, I'm sorry. She told me Frances was a Christian Scientist when I started. I didn't realize that was you. I'm sorry if that offends you."
"No, not at all." In truth Frank filled out the HR forms looking to come across as fundie as possible so he would have an excuse for not socializing outside work. Typical Sally playing office matchmaker. But something in Heather's playful tone was setting off alarm bells. Something she said. A blind barbeque? Do they do that? He heard about a Supervillain being blinded recently. Did she know Dante? She probably works with the recently blind at the hospital. That's why she was familiar. But why would she be averse to healthcare? No, not healthcare. She said health.
"What's wrong, Frank? You've gone silent on me. If you were going to ask me out you should have the courtesy to take off your ring first."
"I.. I'm not, I mean I wasn't, wait how did you know I had a ring on?"
"I heard it clink when you were changing the drive. It's not gold or silver, so it perked my interest. Can I see it?" She held out her hands. Frank placed his hand in hers. "Oh, sorry, it's your middle finger, huh? Wow what is this made of? It's warmer than your hand." He started to pull back but she was stronger than her slight frame suggested. Only too late did he remember, the ring hides it's appearance as simply jewellery as easily as it summons his costume, but the power is always there. He can feel it. But he never realized someone else could too.
Frank pulled back more forcefully. Heather was ignoring him, looking at the imprint of his sigil burnt into her fingertip from her attempt to steal his ring. She looked up at him. Her head never moved. She still had her black glasses on. But the two red pinpoints of her gaze drilled into him. "Lightblade," he whispered. His eyes scanned her and her cubicle. Nothing obviously big enough for a sword, but she is able to hide them, he knows from experience.
"Not for another..." She pressed a button on her watch. A metallic voice chimed '10:37 AM.' "Seven hours or so. But I have work to do, Moonbeam."
"But...why?"
"I can't exactly claim supervillain on my taxes, can I?" Lightblade closed her eyes and was back to being Heather, the cute little blind salesgirl that makes everyone feel good about working for an equal opportunity employer. She raised her voice, "is it ready for my pass code yet? Don't listen in now!"
Frank realized that the other salespeople were coming back from their meeting. He bent toward her and growled, "this isn't over."
"You're using you Moonbeam voice," she whispered playfully, then louder: "This is taking forever. I missed the whole meeting."
| 'There was no way this could be right' Tom thought glancing of at Jim across the lunch table eating a salad. 'Boring Jim Gregory, Mighty Man? He's so mild mannered' he thought staring at his Coworker. He'd never believe it if the evidence wasn't there, the scratch he'd given him across the forehead, the broken finger. It was exactly the same blows he'd landed the night before as the Crimson Kremlin.
Tom kept studying him as Jim looked up "Hey Tom buddy are you alright, is there something on my face?" he asked shaking Tom out of his thoughts.
"No I'm fine, Just thinking of that expense report we need to get in this afternoon, we're going to get picked apart by Lucy in accounting" he said chuckling Jim joining in
"Don't worry about, I'm sure we'll do fine" he said secretly staring at Tom as well. 'It's exactly the same, the same radiation luminescence that the Kremlin had on him from the Higgs Crystal he stole last night' he thought knowing there was no way Tom could have touched the crystal on accident.
The crystal had been locked out tight till the Kremlin had broke it free of it's containment pod. There was no doubting it Tom was the Crimson Kremlin. The real question was did he know Jim was Mighty Man? Jim had invited Tom over many times, who knows what sinister tricks he'd left there.
"Hey Jim want to take the rest of lunch outside?" he asked standing up. If Tom was Mighty Man he was ending it today.
"Sounds Good, I was about to ask you the the same" he said smiling. 'Get ready Crimson Kremlin, your not getting away from this one' he thought as the two of them headed up to the roof.
"Citiburg is sure beautiful this time of day" Tom said walking up to the ledge "Come take a look" he said motioning Jim over
"Sure old friend" he said walking to his side
"I know your secret Tom"
"Oh yeah I think I know yours too Jim"
"Than you should see this coming, Mighty Man" he said grabbing Jim jumping off the edge
"I knew it, you Crimson scum, well fools on you I'll just fly out of here" he said holding his arms out his eyes widening "I forgot my super suit in my locker" he said
"Ha, ha, Well old foe I suppose this is the end. I'll be seeing you" he said posing as well when...nothing happened. Tom grimaced "I forgot my suit too"
"Well old foe seems like this is the end for both of us, it's been interesting fighting you all these years. I must say it was ingenious of you to pose as my friend to gain access to my home"
"I guess if we're being honest, I can't say I've hated fighting you all these years either, and to be honest I had no idea until today you were Mighty Man. I just liked hanging out with you. Watching Baseball, Flying model planes. You were my best friend Jim"
"Huh suppose when it comes down to it we're not too different, Good Bye Tom my old friend"
"Good Bye Jim hopefully we'll meet again" he said as both braced themselves for the ground, but it never came.
"Very beautiful boys, quite touching but next time could you not jump off buildings without your super suits, It's bad for business" a woman's voice said that sounded quite familiar.
"Lucy?!" Both men said looking over at their savior, Lucy from accounting decked out in full amazon gear
"I prefer Amazezon when I'm in costume. Now come on you two you have an expense report meeting to get to" | |
[WP] A Super Hero and his arch nemesis have alter egos. They work in the same office. On the same day they discover each other's true identities. | Heather in sales always looked familiar to Frank, but he can never place why. She looked young. Maybe she was some make a wish kid he visited in a hospital or a victim of some accident or supervillain he rescued. It's not like he knew many blind people after all. Frank always trusted his gut. Many supervillains try to hide in plain sight. But the little tests he made always worked. Move an object and she loses track of it. Power off the lights and she doesn't react. Even working late on her own she never looks at the screen, only uses her braille pad.
Then her hard drive failed. Frank was always prompt, the most professional IT guy a company can want. He needs to be, to make up for a lousy attendance record. He knew this would be longer than usual, as she needed a special suite of software and couldn't use the standard setup.
"I hope you didn't lose too much with the drive, Heather. I know not everyone remembers to backup."
"It's okay. I've lost nothing. This hunk is 10 years old. I don't trust it as far as I can throw it."
"I'm pleasantly surprised."
"You're not the first man I've surprised this week with a backup." She laughed at a private joke.
Frank took a moment to really look at her. She seemed to be looking at him. But that's just the glasses. He knew her eyes were closed, as always. She must just be facing him to hear him better. Then he noticed her hair cut, and a slight singe on her hair on the left side. "What happened to your hair?"
"Oh a barbeque, courtesy of a friend who recently lost his sight. We're like the blind leading the blind." She gave a smile. "How goes the resurrection?"
"Resur- Oh, almost done. Just about two minutes then we have to initiate your system passwords again." He looked back to the screen. Why died he feel like a blind woman was looking right through him. "So I heard you were a Christian Scientist too."
"Not really. I just said that to get out of the health plan. I don't really do health. Sally in HR should learn to shut her mouth. Oh, I'm sorry. She told me Frances was a Christian Scientist when I started. I didn't realize that was you. I'm sorry if that offends you."
"No, not at all." In truth Frank filled out the HR forms looking to come across as fundie as possible so he would have an excuse for not socializing outside work. Typical Sally playing office matchmaker. But something in Heather's playful tone was setting off alarm bells. Something she said. A blind barbeque? Do they do that? He heard about a Supervillain being blinded recently. Did she know Dante? She probably works with the recently blind at the hospital. That's why she was familiar. But why would she be averse to healthcare? No, not healthcare. She said health.
"What's wrong, Frank? You've gone silent on me. If you were going to ask me out you should have the courtesy to take off your ring first."
"I.. I'm not, I mean I wasn't, wait how did you know I had a ring on?"
"I heard it clink when you were changing the drive. It's not gold or silver, so it perked my interest. Can I see it?" She held out her hands. Frank placed his hand in hers. "Oh, sorry, it's your middle finger, huh? Wow what is this made of? It's warmer than your hand." He started to pull back but she was stronger than her slight frame suggested. Only too late did he remember, the ring hides it's appearance as simply jewellery as easily as it summons his costume, but the power is always there. He can feel it. But he never realized someone else could too.
Frank pulled back more forcefully. Heather was ignoring him, looking at the imprint of his sigil burnt into her fingertip from her attempt to steal his ring. She looked up at him. Her head never moved. She still had her black glasses on. But the two red pinpoints of her gaze drilled into him. "Lightblade," he whispered. His eyes scanned her and her cubicle. Nothing obviously big enough for a sword, but she is able to hide them, he knows from experience.
"Not for another..." She pressed a button on her watch. A metallic voice chimed '10:37 AM.' "Seven hours or so. But I have work to do, Moonbeam."
"But...why?"
"I can't exactly claim supervillain on my taxes, can I?" Lightblade closed her eyes and was back to being Heather, the cute little blind salesgirl that makes everyone feel good about working for an equal opportunity employer. She raised her voice, "is it ready for my pass code yet? Don't listen in now!"
Frank realized that the other salespeople were coming back from their meeting. He bent toward her and growled, "this isn't over."
"You're using you Moonbeam voice," she whispered playfully, then louder: "This is taking forever. I missed the whole meeting."
| Eagle
This is it. We've finally done it. Crow - the ever present threat to order and justice - finally unmasked. It took many years and great sacrifices. Iron Shield - your sacrifice will not be in vain! You may have lost your life fighting the enemy, but your work has led to her downfall! In just a few moments the fax will come in, revealing once and for all the true face of our enemy!
__
Crow
The boy had been eager. Disgusting, how they use such young kids to further their dogmatic ideals. What use is justice when it's built on broken ground? If it weren't for that damned Eagle I could have fixed it! No one had to die, but then he showed up, spouting empty words like order and justice. But finally, finally, I've found his identity. My allies are scanning the global database, and tonight I will finally see his true face! All I need to do is make sure I get the fax.
__
Eagle
While waiting outside I saw one of my coworkers. "Hey Kate, how's it going?" She jumped a bit when I spoke, but quickly regained her composure.
"Oh hey Dave. I didn't see you there." She was standing by the watercooler sipping from one of those crappy plastic cups. "Sorry, I'm just a little stressed out right now."
"Oh tell me about it. There's so much work right now and the vendor is shaky. It's just a complete mess."
"Yeah. I've tried talking to someone about it but they keep insisting that 'we have always used that vender and they have never let us down.' I swear, upper management is blind."
I always enjoyed chatting with Kate. We get along very well. Our opinions don't always match up well, but I can't fault her intentions or her ability. She always makes things work out smoothly whenever she gets involved. "So, Kate, what are you waiting for right now? Seeing as you're not on a computer I can only assume someone else is slowing you down."
"Oh it's nothing too important. I'm just waiting for an important fax. It has product codes and information I need. It was supposed to get here a few minutes ago, so it should come up any moment."
I left my straight pose and leaned against the wall. "Hah that sounds like my situation. I just need a fax so that I can put some customer information into the database." I was a little more relaxed than before, but I absolutely needed to get that fax. It was already risky enough sending it over a public line, and I'm sure Kate would find some way to use the information if she got there first.
__
Crow
Dave was a nice fellow. He could be a little too conservative at time, but he always has good intentions and things were always orderly and consistent whenever he was involved. Working with him has always been nice, and I'm happy we were on the same team this time. Still, this was a stressful moment. I had to make sure I got that fax - it was already risky enough sending the information over a public line, and Dave would certainly turn over the information to the authorities if he saw it first.
bzzt. whirr. vhoom. vhoom. The fax machine roared to life, and both of us rushed into the fax room. I put my hand on the paper output, and Dave put his hand down slightly slower. "Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure this is mine." I spoke, calmly and firmly.
"I'm waiting for an important fax too, that might be mine." He responded with equal firmness. For a brief moment we stood there eyes locked and hands firm. Then, after that moment faded, the fax whirred to life once more. Dave looked down first and immediately grabbed the second sheet of paper. "Actually this one's mine, sorry about that." He pulled away and immediately began scanning the paper. I watched him for a brief moment, and then snapped my page up. I scanned the words quickly. "Eagle, male, caucasian, name..." I paused, not believing the words. "Name... Dave Thornbeak."
My head snapped to the side, my eyes fully open. If I lacked even the tiniest amount of poise my mouth would have been completely ajar. Dave was standing in the same pose, staring back at me with intensity and disbelief.
The silence was punctuated by the load creak of the door opening. It was John, one of our other coworkers. "Hey, uh, have either of you seen a fax come in? I'm waiting on something pretty important."
We both lost it. John stood there confused while the two of us laughed and laughed. I braced myself against the wall to keep from losing my footing. Dave? It was Dave? I mean he's smart, but I wouldn't have imagined he'd do anything that crazy in his life.
After standing in the doorwar for an uncomfortable amount of time, John quietly muttered. "I guess I'll check back later."
__
Eagle
Kate? Seriously? I mean sure she's talented, but I didn't think she cared about anything that strongly. I can't imagine her going home and somberly, seriously, and dedicatedly donning such a ridiculous costume! I couldn't hold my footing any further and fell to the ground doubled over. She had to have worked on those speeches for weeks if not months! She had to say such ridiculous things. I can't even imagine her speaking to the whole engineering team, much less addressing an entire country!
I vaguely noticed John leave at some point. A while later Kate managed to compose herself, although she was still grinning. I figured I should do the same, and slowly worked my way back to my feet. I like to think I held a straight face, but realistically I was grinning full force.
I spoke first, trying to act serious but failing. "I suppose this means we're enemies."
Kate, on the other hand, didn't even pretend to be serious. "Clearly the time for mild mannered office work has ended! It is time, for fisticuffs!" She punctuated her words with loud chuckles and playfully raised her fists.
I laughed for a moment before I could respond. "Clearly you are correct." A brief pause. "Seriously though, this is a bit of a problem."
Kate lowered her firsts and dropped her grin. "Oh come on, can't you have a little bit of fun? This is a ridiculous situation, it calls for ridiculous responses."
"We can't just joke about this."
"Why not? Nothing says we have to kill eachother right now. Besides, if I kill you right now I'll be late for tonight's staff meeting."
"Oh god." My heart sank. "I completely forgot about that staff meeting. I'm not ready at all."
"How about this then? We both get ready for the staff meeting, and work things out tomorrow. I'm not really in the mood for a big climactic battle right now anyway."
"You really have no respect for rules, do you?" I snapped back.
"Not when they get in the way."
"You really are a monster." I glared at her.
Kate suddenly looked back at me, her facial expression tense and serious. "You're the one who's a monster. I just don't have the heart to kill you right now."
"I'm not a murderder!" I was angry. I screamed at her. If anyone was walking by they probably heard me, but I didn't care at this point. How could she justify herself? After what she's done?
"You claim to not be a murderer, and yet you put children in harm's way." Kate stood up and leaned forward imposingly. "You're as much as murderer as I am, I'm just honest about it. I have goals - ideals - and I am willing to do what it takes to suceed. You are locked into your own personal prison, and want to lock everyone else up into that same prison. And because you're locked up you can't even do what's necessary. So instead of just fixing things you make things even worse because you don't let yourself win."
"Then what about you?" I shot back. "You claim to be helping people, but all I've ever seen you do is kill and destroy. Every time you leave someplace it's in shambles, and I have to come in and clean up. You have no sense of order, no sense of structure. You leave places broken, and I fix them! You are the monster destroying society!"
We both glared at eachother for a while. It was over a minute before either one of us moved, but simultaneously we broke eye contact and gathered our things. I spoke first.
"The meeting's at six."
"Yeah I'll see you there."
We both quietly left the room and returned to our cubicles. | |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
| [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | I’ve been at this for … I don’t know. A month now? I’m trying to find a good way to explain it without sounding crazy, but honestly, I think maybe I am crazy.
Yes … I’m pretty sure I’ve totally lost my marbles. I’m getting loaded into the pod for the final event right now, and only the Buddy is keeping me from barfing everything I’ve ever eaten all over the glass stuff.
Okay, let’s start over. You know that old show from the 90’s? American Gladiators? Where lunkheads with gigantic muscles wearing leotards decorated with the ole stars and stripes would be the boogiemen as “ordinary” athletic sorts fought them with giant cotton swabs or tried knocking one another off huge monkey bar things? Also, you know the Track and Field part of the Olympics? Also, you know those bizarre Japanese shows where people cause themselves severe bodily harm trying to get through murderous obstacle courses? And like, the standard montage in every movie where someone goes through boot camp?
Take all of those things, and put them in a blender, and pour the resulting sludge down your throat, and that’s what I’m in right now. There’s more things, events that I can’t even begin to understand. I think I lost the “Deathmatch” but survived somehow, that was last week. Pretty sure I’ve won every “piss your pants” event, though. Hah. I can’t tell what they’re judging most of the time.
I forgot to add the setting. It’s like a stadium, I guess, but it’s a great big dome. It’s mostly glass. Well. Probably not glass-glass, but like, you know, glassy. See-through, and what I can see through it is different for every event, and it sometimes is just so damn beautiful I just want to stare, but usually just makes my stomach do flip-flops and my Buddy gives me some sort of anti-barf jab.
And the live studio audience is … like everything. Aliens. All sorts. Big clattery bugs and wet oozy slimeboys and fluffy smirky teeth-beasts, and I don’t even have the words for most because they don’t make sense to my head so I just sort of see this censored blur. Thank god? Thank the Buddy? Maybe.
Oh. I didn’t explain the Buddy. It snapped onto my head like a helmet my first day here, it’s like an octopus hat and it’s got little arms that hold it in place, or jab me with medicine, or force me to eat and drink when I tried to refuse that one time.
It covers most of my head, so I’m guessing it’s doing the visual filtering. It does audio filtering too; I hear every sound as it is, but I also hear translations. Things I don’t *want to hear* but it doesn’t really care. When the air doesn’t match Earth’s, which is most of the time, it also covers my mouth and nose. I don’t know what it’s called, so I call it the Buddy, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing around here interested in keeping me alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a robot or organic, but it’s squishy and warm and I’m really kind of fond of the little bugger.
Anyways, yesterday I lost the shit out of a contest which I think was a race. We were … trying to swim/run/bounce on this … lake? You know how when you mix cornstarch and water and it’s this white paste that you can squeeze with your hand into a solid and then it melts? It’s like that. Only the color isn’t nice safe white, it’s a mix of old-piss yellow and soft rosy pink and sky blue, all clumped together in random patches. And it smelled like oranges. I don’t want to talk about how it tasted. The Buddy wasn’t filtering my air for this event. I resent that, Buddy.
I managed to run on the top of it for a while ,but I gradually started to sink and once I got down to my armpits, I tried to just … not drown in bizarre orange-scented slime. Another miserable failure, just like all of the others.
The Buddy blacked me out and I woke up back in my pen. I want to call it a dorm, but it’s a pen. People—they’re people, even if they’re not human—come and gawk at me and make noises, and the Buddy translates it to stuff people say when looking at zoo animals.
So anyhow, I managed to hear the opening ceremonies, and this is why I’m terrified. If I come in last, they’re going to invade Earth and just … wipe it clean. I thought at first that I’d do OK. I mean, just don’t come in last right? But I’m pretty sure I’m last now.
I’m not in the greatest shape, but I did some soccer back in high school and I have to run around campus a lot so I managed to avoid the Freshman Fifteen and all, but … I mean, when I don’t even understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing in some of these competitions, when I don’t grasp the judging criteria at all? It’s frustrating. All I can do to keep trying.
I always figured if aliens were out there, if they got far enough along to get space travel, that they’d have their shit together, you know? That they’d be *civilized*. But these folk are just all so … I don’t know. Feral. Different values, maybe? I don’t know. But they seem to love it when I’m barbaric and violent and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Does it help or hurt my standing to shout obscenities at the crowd?
Except I can’t get my Gladiator “Are you not entertained?” moment, because I don’t win those fights. The guys with the claws and fangs win those.
So yeah, here we are, the final event, and again they haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, nothing really. I can almost feel steam coming from my ears. I’ve got the fate of the *fucking world* in my hands and they won’t even explain the rules.
Big arena. Maybe a melee deathmatch, I don’t know. Smooth stone ground. It’s not really stone. It looks like stone, and while it’s firm, it has some give to it, like foam. I’m sitting down. I’m ignoring the other competitors. It’s all I can do to not scream at the judges. Not even sure what the judges are, but I have to assume they’re watching from those little floatbots. Maybe watching through the Buddy. Deep breaths. The others can tear one another to bits.
There’s the noise that means we’re starting. I’m going to close my eyes because I don’t want to see this coming.
I don’t want to hear it either, but the Buddy’s not going to let me block my ears. Humming helps, though. I’m going to rock back and forth now, and hopefully when the noises go away I’ll open my eyes and be in a nice padded room.
Please let me be in a nice padded room.
Nobody’s swiping at me with claws. No rush of pain. The noises are quieting down. I think I’m going to come out of this psychotic break any second now. Yes. I’m going to be back on Earth in the mental ward and I don’t care. It was stress. It was work and schoolwork and not enough money and having no clue what I’m going do with my life, and all of that panic and stress and I just … put myself in something worse, so that I’d long for the terrors of the simple life on earth where all I have to worry about is poverty.
…
Shit. I just peeked and I’m Still. Fucking. Here. I don’t want this to be real. It can’t be real. I refuse to allow it to be real. I’m going to wake up in that padded room any second now.
Everyone else is still sitting around. I want them to be my fellow inmates. They’re just other crazy people locked up here with me, and they’re not aliens from other worlds.
Earth is safe. It’s not going to be razed to the bedrock by a plague of horrors.
I am not in some other solar system. I’ve never been in outer space in my life. I don’t care how realistic this has been. I can’t accept it. I deny it.
The crowd is being noisy again. That’s not a group of spectators. It’s my family trying to bring me back from my crazy spell. The Buddy isn’t some octopus hat. It’s a burly orderly trying to keep me from hurting myself.
I can put this all together in my head, and I’m trying my damndest to believe it, because being completely insane is *so* much better than being responsible for the fate of the world.
-----
> Cue primitive flat video-broadcast. Shot of chitinous bipedal Representative, rough manipulators folded, fine manipulators gesturing expansively as translation device provides basic audio communication in local dialect and projected visual language glyphs
"Citizens of the Planet known as Earth, congratulations. One amongst you was the victor in the Galaxy Games, and so your humble home is safe. We return him to you unharmed."
> Focus shot of a young human, squinting in the sunlight, standing beside the Representative. Human seems shaky and possibly ill.
"After his remarkable demonstration of humanity’s stubbornness, survival instinct, and powerful ability to deny reality, we come to you openly begin negotiations to bring Earth into our Alien Association; it is clear that you are ready to exist amongst us. Welcome. Congratulations on your continued survival."
> The young human’s eyes begin to leak.
| [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | I woke up with a nasty headache. Probably drank too much last night, like every saturday. Not that I remember much of last night. Heck, its been a while since I managed to recover 8 hours of memories. I know I'm drinking too much. Like way to much. But I dont really care. It helps me forget. Helps me get over it. Helps me think it might have all just been a dream, or rather a nightmare.
It was a Sunday morning, much like this very Sunday morning. I remember the hangover, but it was nothing compared to what I have now. It was your normal, casual hangover from hanging out with friends. Friends. Been a while since I've seen any of them. Probably too busy with college and stuff, or just not wanting to hang out with a drunk like me. Or maybe we hung out last night? Can't remember.
Anyways, I was telling a story here so better get on with it before the chili con carne from last night finds its way back up. Or was it pizza? So there I was slowly trying to pull myself together to get up and I notice theres like bright light all over the place. Naturally I just squeeze my eyes tight and wait for the light to dim down. Stupid hangover. I should really learn to stop drinking when I'm drunk. I wait for like 30 seconds, or it could have been 30 minutes, its all a bit blurry you know. The light doesn't dim down. I squint and see I'm not where I'm supposed to be. Shit. Not again. Did I drink that much? Last month I woke up in some strange girls apartment. Barely managed to sneak out before she woke up. I look around and try to asses the situation and hope to not see some big hairy dude lying next to me.
I turn around. Theres a big hairy dude drooling on a pillow. Fuck. Just fuck. What the fuck did I do last night? Like seriously what the fuck happened? Priority change. The shock made me sober up a bit. I need to get out of here. Fast. As I carefully sweep away the sheets to not wake up the sasquatch next to me, I try and look for the exit. Then I notice I'm inside something this is best described as a glass cubicle sitting in the middle of nowhere. By then I'm convinced I'm not really awake and still tripping my balls off. I must have been convinced to try some shrooms or something, probably by Johnny. Jup, sounds like something he would get me to do. Lets give drunken Jim some shrooms so he'll totally be out of this world! Next time I see him I'll ...
"And it seems that earthling number 2 will be the chosen one!" blasts through my head, and suddenly the box is no longer in the middle of nowhere. I am now surrounded by a massive arena filled with thousands of ...well thousands of something. Its not humans, its aliens. Like the whole star wars cast at least. Whatever Johnny gave me its some serious drugstuff. On the bed fatty finally woke up. "Huh? What?" is all he could muster before metal clamps shout out of the bed and anchored him to it.
"Greeting Earthling, you have been chosen to compete for your planet in the final event of the interplanetary olympics. As you are currently in last place, the fate of your planet depends on you," said the same voice again, pounding through my hangover like a thousands sledgehammers. The crowd roared. "Wait what?" I stuttered. Since this was all my imagination, might as well play along and have a good time. Maybe my drug induced fantasy might manage to bring in the cute girl at the bar from last night, so...
"Ha, the human doesn't seem to understand. By the name of Zorg, I knew these humans were stupid, but this stupid?" spoke the announcer, followed by some weird gargling from the crowd. "The last placed planet of the interplanetary games will be destroyed as punishment for your terrible performance. The first placed planet gets too push the button as a reward, along with eternal glory of course. Seen as your fellow earthlings have all performed terribly, earth is currently placed last. But, not all hope is lost, as the planet of Xarxan has also been rather terrible this year. You two must compete in a final event to decide who will be last."
This was a lot to take in, even if your head doesn't feel like it has a thousand horses stampeding inside it. Apparently I was at some sort of contest, and if I lost these aliens would destroy earth. I gotta remember this so I can tell Johnny what he put me through. I'll forcefeed him some of his shrooms next time.
I also noticed a similar glass cubicle to my left, with a similar bed inside and two aliens. Can't really describe them, other than 'tentacly' theres not really a word that fits them. But one of them was clamped to the bed like my fat friend, and the second one was standing next to the bed just like me.
| [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | My muscles ache. The lactic acid stings my legs and I cringe as I drape my feet off the top bunk trying to open my eyes. Its still dark outside, although, the light hasn't seemed to change much since I arrived a week ago. The sunlight here feels different, heavier and it adds to the difficulty I've faced at each of these strange events. I'm not sure I can call it sunlight though, more likely its light from some solar analog, like Delta Pavonis. They never told me which one but I know it’s not the sun. The sun has a sweet burn to it. The desire to stare into it feels so strong but the second you do you are reminded why you shouldn't. I miss that kind sentiment from the sun. The relationship it shares with every living thing on Earth and its rotation of energy from plant to animal to human, never expecting anything in return, all the while staying in perfect symbiosis. I used to marvel at our selfishness to deceive the sun of its power. To steal from it to move our vehicles and warm our homes. The sun gave us life 1 billion years ago, and we bestowed upon it a bait and switch.
Here, things are different than they are on Earth. No one speaks to me. I’m sure that they understand me but they really don’t care. It’s not like we were ever real contenders in this arena. We constantly use our creations to compensate for our fragile, deteriorating bodies, and tell ourselves the story that everything will be just fine. From the beginning I knew we must have been chosen out of some political desire to finally rid the galaxy of its pestilence, but at the same time I had to question why I was chosen. If their desire was to eliminate the Earth from planetary suspension, why would they choose someone like me?
I’ve been made fully aware of the consequences of losing these games, but it has not changed the outcome. Despite my greatest efforts I have fallen short over and over again and sit so far into last place that I’m not sure of our fate. Call it fatigue or call it stress, but I’m not sure that there is hope for us. Alas, I can’t give up.
There is a bit of movement outside my cell. I hear a foreign voice speaking in a deep muffled tone. Sounds like Russian to me, but I’m disappointed that it is not. They’re talking about me though, I can tell. Their shadows land in broken pieces on the floor of my cell and they dance back and forth. I hear my cell open and the two guards enter the room. I look them dead in the eyes as I was instructed to do when I first arrived. They don’t like it when you look away. They don’t trust most species outside of this planet, but they certainly don’t trust humans. They point at a uniform that they have brought to me and motion for me to put it on.
“Does it fit?” The first guard asks in deep monotone.
It’s a truly gaudy piece. The Earthling uniform is covered in the names of the sponsors that shipped me here. Exxon, Royal Dutch Shell, China National Petroleum, Sinopec Group, all compete for space on my skin tight suit. To top it off, a Wal-Mart swim cap with its smiling yellow circle sits on my shaved head. I look into the mirror and laugh to myself. I’m quite a sight.
“It fits fine.” It doesn’t, but I know that I have no other choice.
The guards escort me down the hall to the waiting area before the arena doors. I know that today will be my last chance to avoid being the sole source of the demise of my planet, and I know that the universe, much less the world, will be watching, thanks to AT&T’s U-verse sponsorship. A camera hovers in my face with instructions to look distant and cold. They have so far done a great job of painting me as the bad guy, the bane of planetary existence. It doesn’t take much for me to wipe my face of expression. I’m exhausted and have grown weary of this routine.
“Today’s final event will be a special one.”
The announcer echoes throughout the massive arena holding millions from the surrounding planets. His voice is met with a grumbling excitement.
“To commemorate the 100th game of which the Earthlings participate. He shall choose the game.”
Visible fear comes across my face and the camera lights up with instructions.
*Wipe the sweat from your brow. Look into the camera and say “The Game of Lies”*
I am struck with nausea. I’m not sure what this means, but the hovering camera begins to shake and point the end of its Gatling at me.
I yell out, “For the final game, Earth chooses, “The Game of Lies”
Gasps come from around the vibrating arena. The display in front of me flashes:
*“Begin!”*
I stammer at first, not sure what this means. I do as instructed.
“As an Earthling I am given certain privileges... I am born into a society that cares so deeply for one another that we deliver each other from the streets to sanctuary without a second thought. We do not war with one another, because we understand that while there are causes worth dying for, nothing is worth killing for. We provide for those who cannot provide for themselves out of compassion for one another. We are not like you. We do not subject those lesser than us to torture and foreboding, because we understand that we all suffer the same fate. What I do to my brother, I have done to myself. So we live in peace. By living in this way we become strong. The strength does not come from our material form, but a place deeper than the likes of you could imagine. As I have demonstrated to all of you here, I am determined to win, not for fame, but to save my own race. When asked to leap across your greatest Canyon, I did so without hesitation. I am fearless. When sprinting against your beasts of the longest legs, I was victorious and did not stop for breath for I am not easily winded. When hurling your stones, I lifted mine above your sky for I am the strongest that has stepped foot in your arena. And when I awoke, I was well rested and had dreamt only of the solitude of the cell in which I was placed, for I do not want more than I am given. So for these things, I will be victorious. For these things, my planet will be spared.”
The crowd was silent.
The camera in front of my face displayed no message and I was still.
The screen in the center of the arena lit up.
*“100 points to the Earthling for the Game of Lies”*
My name moved from the bottom of the rankings into the Top 100 and the display of my spinning planet disappeared into darkness, safe from the aim of their destructive weapon.
I was not sure how, or why, this event was chosen. Or how the words were pulled from my mouth at a whim, but my planet was safe from harm and I was allowed to leave, a hero to my forever-damned planet.
| [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Carl was miserable. Under any other circumstances, he would be awestruck at the sky that stretched out before him: a black canvas washed with swirling blue and pink nebula, dwarfed only by the ringed planet that hung at its zenith. But Carl didn't even take notice as he sat sulking in a lukewarm bath of rejuvenating goo. His muscles ached, but the pain slowly faded as the goo did whatever it did to repair the torn tissue.
Next to Carl, in it's own goo-bath was Xthigrchloooo (whose nickname, Carl was relieved to learn, was Xth), a tentacled transluscent blue creature whos skin felt like smooth rubber and emitted a faint glow. Xth had no obvious orifices on its body, but Carl learned during his first night at the games that Xth ate his food by surrounding it like a white blood cell attacking a bacteria, slowly absorbing it. Xth's seven "eyes" were glowing orbs that hovered about 2 inches underneath his skin. Six of the seven eyes currently focused on Carl with what he could only imagine was pity.
"Cheer up," Xth said. "There's still one event left, and all you have to do is not be in last place. How difficult can that be?" The translator device that Carl wore in his ear was uncomfortably warm as it worked overtime to simplify Xth's burbling speech into something he could comprehend. The acclimation-handler to whom Carl had been assigned on the first day--a silica-based entity called Maeas that moved by destroying and regrowing it's body's crystalline structure--had unceremoniously shoved the translator into Carl's ear before explaining to him that the device would create a substantial amount of heat as it worked to dumb down the various alien languages into something his human brain could handle. It was all downhill from there.
"That's easy for you to say," Carl sighed. "You've placed high enough to guarantee that your planet won't be obliterated." Carl eyed the three medals that were lodged halfway into Xth's body. Xth's first place medal was made of a large black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. He also wore two 3rd place medals. These medals were similar to the first place award, but the central black disc was surrounded by three yellow discs. It wasn't until this moment that as Carl, exhausted and unable to focus on anything but the Xth's medals, realized that the medals represented atoms, with 1st place being hydrogen.
"You took 768th place in yesterday's event," Xth encouraged.
Carl rolled his eyes.
"That was pure luck. Even after the event was explained to me, I had no idea what I was doing. I jumped through a hole in a wall and landed face first in the mud."
"And you did it better than 84,000 other competitors! Clearly, though, that was an event for the Purians. They win it every cycle." Xth sank further into his goo bath with a gurgling sound that Carl's translator didn't bother with, so Carl just assumed it was a relaxed sigh. "Get some rest," Xth continued, "and don't worry yourself about tomorrow. I have a feeling your luck will change."
*How did I get here?* Carl asked himself; he meant the question figuratively *and* literally, as he had no recollection of how he had been transported from his apartment in New York to a planet in a binary star system on the other side of the Milky Way. Had his entire boring life been leading up to this moment, or was he just a random selection among the 7 billion people on earth? All he knew was that he had been selected to represent Earth--just as Xth and all of the other competitors had been chosen to stand for their own worlds--in some galactic contest of ... what? Will? Strength? Intelligence? Carl had no idea.
Carl sank into his goo bath. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt the goo become firm around his body -- the goo baths, for the aliens that used them, were also their beds. This was something that Carl was only now getting used to. Soon, though, the acrid smell of the bath faded as Carl's brain shut down for the night. He dreamed of pizza and rude cab drivers.
Carl was jolted awake by a blaring klaxon followed by an annoucement: "Competitors, please report to Event quadrant three for the final game." Pulling his arms from the now solidified goo bath, Carl rubbed his eyes and turned to say "good morning" to Xth, but Xth was gone. There was a Xth-shaped whole in his bath, but no Xth. That saddened Carl. Xth, despite being sentient Jell-O, was the only being that bothered to speak to Carl during his six days at the game. Many of the aliens he had encountered seemed to have no emotions at all, or emotions that were completely incomprehensible to Carl, but Xth was different. He seemd to understand Carl and even empathize with him. Carl admitted to himself that he was actually going to miss Xth when this was over.
Reluctantly, Carl pulled himself out of his bath. He slid himself into his competition garment, an impossibly thin unitard that seemed to have no weight. He couldn't even feel it against his skin.
A glowing red line on the ground guided Carl to the event area. He followed it to a large gray dome that rose a few hundred feet into the air. As he approached the wall of the dome, a Carl-shaped hole opened, revealing the bright interior. Next to him, a familiar shape appeared. Xth's seven orbs focused on Carl. "Goodbye and good luck, Carl. You have done your planet a great service." Xth began to slide through his own hole in the dome wall.
"Thanks, Xth, I--wait, what do you mean 'goodbye'?" Carl asked. But Xth's hole had already begun to close behind him. Carl stepped through his hole. There seemed to be some kind of invisible field over the hole, as Carl had to push his body through it. He smelled ozone and felt a tinlgling feeling as he passed through the hole.
*Maybe Xth's right,* Carl thought with a surge of confidence. *Despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing, I only have to avoid losing this event completely so save Earth. Maybe I can do this.*
Carl's body surged forward with a newly found confidence as he pushed through the finally few inches of the dome wall, popped out into the bright interior of the arena, and promptly collapsed to the ground.
The pain was unbearable. His lungs burned. Searing pane shot through the entire length of his body and seemed to occupy every cell. Carl couldn't breath. His muscles convulsed involuntarily as his mind and body tried desperately to find oxygen. His fists were balled so tightly that he could feel his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. Carl's eyes were wet with blood. He shut them tightly as the pain gave way to overwhelming fear and sadness at his failure.
A strong bolt of pain caused Carl to open his eyes. Through a green haze of the dome's atmosphere, Carl could see the faint outlines of other competitors. Many of them were motionless. Some moved about slowly inside the dome. Carl spotted Xth to his left, looking somewhat disappointed, but otherwise unharmed. Before Carl's eyes closed again, he saw Xth's glowing eyes settle on his writhing body. For a moment, Carl could have sworn that Xth's expression was one of pride or happiness. As Carl's vision faded, he closed his eyes tightly. Pinpoints of light peppered his sight as his mind reeled with visions of his family, friends and billion of other innocent people screaming as Earth exploded into a cloud of debris.
*Will they curse my name?* Carl wondered. *Will they even know I'm the one who doomed them to extinction?*
The pain in Carl's body began to subside. His muscles relaxed. He thought of Star Wars and espresso, and fresh cut grass, and koalas.
*I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.*
And Carl was dead.
In the dome, the rest of the more than 84,000 competitors wandered aimlessly, disappointed, around the inside of the dome. Hours passed.
A few more aliens collapsed and expired. Then, the dome began to open.
Several of the competitors, including Xth, approached Carl's lifeless body. A small grey rock-like being floated towards Carl. The competitors who had encircled his body parted to allow the grey being to approach him. The grey rock descended to hover inches over Carl's corpse. Small black tentacles grew from the grey rock and extended towards Carl's face. They touched his cold skin and felt along his body. Seconds later, the tentacles retracted back into the grey being's body. A small hole opened in its side, and a larger tentacle placed something on Carl's chest: a small black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The intergalactic stadium fell silent as the leader board displayed the score. Its characters were completely foreign to me. I leaned over to ywoarg and asked for clarification. Despite my special helmet designed to translate everything I hear into a language I can understand he seemed to be the only one willing to talk to me.
"It is a list of the scores, human. You are not doing so well. It seems as though you may not have a planet to go back to, though you are still within your potential to save it, if you place first in this last event."
"What's the last event?" As if in answer to my question the board buzzed and the wall of yellow characters was replaced by many fewer, yet larger, green characters. The crowd cheered. I saw one creature at the end of the bench we all sat on start leaping up and down, another began smacking the bench with one of his many appendages. Ywoarg put what I could only assume was his head in what I could only assume was his hands.
"...." Nothing but static came through my helmet. I gave Ywoarg a quizzical look, at this point he had figured out that meant I had no idea what he was saying.
"It is like... complaining, but not just complaining, complaining with no purpose, complaining about things you cannot change, and of course complaining about things that are irrelevant."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are we supposed to complain about? How do you judge a complaint it not by how much the subject of the complaint deserves to be complained about? You know, this whole god damn contest has been rigged against be from the start, you transport me here and ask me to compete against beings who are so physically advanced that some of them don't even need to breathe?" At this point I was yelling as loud as I could.
"I mean I'm no single cell organism like that piece of rice thing over there, but why the Hell even ask me to compete if I have no fucking chance of saving my planet, do you all just like watching lesser beings squirm? Have you all just evolved out of your consciences? You know what, go ahead and destroy my planet, I'm not performing for you sick fucks anymore, I'm not a dancing monkey. And who the fuck destroys a planet? Who do you think you are?" At some point during my tirade I had stood up. Upon looking at the other contestants and crowd behind me I realized everyone was watching me intently. I promptly sat down and tried to hide my head in my knees. No less than 2 seconds later the crowd erupted in cheering. Even other contestants were clapping (I think) for me. I swear I even saw one wipe away a tear.
This editor aucks on my phone will finish after work | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | No, seriously, I am not making this shit up. I *did* plan on going to Vegas. I did *not* get there. There was some weird ass UFO shit and then Bill FUCKING Murray came out and explained it all.
No, I have never used mind altering drugs. No I was not drinking because no I was *not* in Vegas. No there is no history of family illness. Bill Murray is an alien ambassador. Humans conquered the galaxy eons ago and have been trying to preserve planets better. We're one of many experiments and we are in **LAST. PLACE.** We failed the land tests, the sea tests, the air tests. Before us they didn't even check space because how could we fuck that up but we fucked that up. Bill says if we don't figure out how to take this shit seriously our ancestors are going to wipe down the planet and try again.
PLEASE do not get hung up on the Bill Murray part. No, listen, we don't even have to fix anything we just have to show that we know we're being tested and plan to do better. There's some sort of questionnaire in this big ass rock in Australia, I don't know. The only thing we have to do is make sure that when humanity is polled, a significant population can pick our Ambassador out of a line up. He's supposed to convince you himself but he gave up a long time ago. Now he only talks about it when he's drunk.
No. I was not drinking. He was drinking. Him. Not me. Fuck I don't have time for this shit. I'll just tell the internet he said no one would ever believe me. That always works.
| [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The aliens were terrifying and bewildering; hulking behemoths and stalking predators, covered in barbed spines or gelatinous acidic ooze. John counted himself lucky to have been spared the combat events. He had watched though, as fight after fight ended in a rapid exchange of blows, the victorious monsters not even breaking a sweat in the exertion of breaking their opponent.
Forced to the starting line of a what appeared to be a simple foot-race, he couldn't help but feel helplessly small, trapped between two nightmare creatures to his right and left, with the heat of an alien sun beating down on him. The unmistakeable sound of a starting gun. He bolted before the cattle prod could catch him from behind. Running, very literally he suspected, as if his life depended on it.
The pack pulled ahead, but he was barely 50 metres down the track before the great stone giant running to his right slowed, falling down onto one huge knee, toppling to the side with a dull thud. As John loped past the fallen alien he saw another bizarre creature slowing, it's many legs going limp as it's skin changed from a deep purple to a pale blue.
The sweat ran down his face, as the realisation struck him; out of every alien there, not one of the bastards was sweating. Not one of them was *able* to sweat. He was surrounded by the descendants of apex predators, accustomed to brief explosive chases to bring down prey with an economy of effort, not tests of endurance in fleeing. Unable to shed heat efficiently they were succumbing beneath the burning sun, boiling from the inside.
They had thought this their most difficult trial, the most amusing to throw the tiny human into. They had been very much mistaken. | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | "Ladies and gentlemen! Triploids and trans-asexuals! Welcome to the 2301st Milkyway Endurance Olympics!"
Mike could not understand what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: he did not want to be here. He was just a fat dude living in his mom's basement. He did not have a job, he did not have friends, he was good for nothing, he thought.
"Our first competitor is from the asteroid belt of Narubia! You probably know him but for those who don't, he is a warrior who has killed countless Racknorians in the civil war in his system and after that, got into olympics. He has a total of 87 gold medals and will probably leave with even more medals!"
An uproar rose from the tribunes. Mike did not know which part of the first alien was more scary. Was that the part he ate an alive alien's head and threw the body to his fans, who caught it like some baseball from a star player, or the part his arms looked more like weapons with all the spikes coming out of them.
"Our second competitor is from the beatiful but deadly planet of Solnia! If you were also watching the hunting olympics, you know about our beatiful competitor with 30 heads from the last hunting."
She was nothing near beautiful, Mike thought. As he was thinking about saying this, the second alien killed a random alien from Solnian side of the tribunes and sprayed its orange-ish goo on its other fans. They did not look scared at all...
"And our third competitor is an ex-pilot from the Vanguard fleet. He was a fighter pilot and shot down countless Andromedan fighters before retiring and starting a career in olympics."
This one looked almost humanly, until he opened his mouth to speak which was his... chest.
Mike was almost going to cry and he actually has when he was first abducted but the aliens did not seem to care.
"And our last competitor is from the exotic third planet of Sol. Its inhabitants live in a boring peace. So, here he is!"
He waved at the tribunes but he could not get the uproar the first three could get. He did not care anyway, he just wanted this to end.
"So, if you don't know what happens in the Olympics, let me tell you. It is pretty simple with only one kind of sport. Unlike the other 5619 olympics, there are no combat sports or any endurance sports, except for one. The competitors are asked to do maybe the hardest thing for any living being: to lie on a couch and try to stay lying with as small amount of brainwaves and as long as they can."
Mike was now really confused. So did the aliens simply watch the competitors sleep as long as they could? That was weird but this was also his expertise. When he would get bored, he could sleep through 20 hours without even moving an inch. He could even sleep on will, after 30 years of career as a couch potato.
"Now, there will be only one winner and one survivor. The losers will have to compete in the 7092nd Getting Eaten Olympics, which is pretty much death for them. That was too much talk anyway, let the Endurance Olympics begin!"
It was really not hard to sleep on the soft couch for Mike. Actually, it was not hard for him to sleep anywhere. He stopped thinking and in a mere seconds, he was asleep.
"And our last competitor wakes up! Everyone, hail the winner of the Olympics! Now, what do you wish, winner?"
"I called for a pizza when you guys kidnapped me so I think... A lifetime supply of any kind of pizza I want plus getting back home I guess." | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Her arms numb and skin torn, exhaustion emanated off her. Barely able to stand, she finished the grueling race second to last. She felt the disdain and mockery from other species, her soft meat useless next to their spiny exoskeletons. Even those who possessed similar bodies had some skill in the events, whereas she failed miserably at everything.
"Allah, why must I, a simple mother and wife, decide the fate of my beloved home?"
She didn't have anywhere else to turn except prayer. These aliens had stripped her of her dignity and exposed her naked body for all to see. She had no allies, she was alone and vulnerable when she needed to be her strongest.
"Please let me win, let me find the strength I need to will myself up and fight..."
She cried. Not for herself, but for her children, her husband, and her parents. She cried for everyone. Death would come and it would be her doing. She never felt so little over so much.
"Let me die! I will sacrifice my life to save those I care for and have yet to care for! Allah, do what is just...please..."
Pleading and bargaining, she tried to keep praying but found it hard. Her pain was absolute, both physical and emotional. She was forsaken and alone. She had no more words, for there was nothing to convey her horror. Earth would be lost and that would weigh on her soul for eternity.
She looked at the screens, Earth, ]{, and something she couldn't quite read were lined up. The bottom three. She noticed the other names were also grouped into threes. Her vision was blurred from her tears and her eyes burned. The world around her faded in and out of focus.
A massive claw dropped from the sky and snatched her off the ground, the grip so tight she couldn't scream. The movements were so rapid she lost any visual barring and was shocked to be finally released. She hit the ground, hot sand burning her countless gashes. Gasping for air, she looked around. A screen showing the instructions emerged in the distance. Unable to crawl, she drug herself towards it. Each movement was unbearable, but she continued on. She had to. Upon reaching it, the surrounding land pulled away and the sand drained away leaving metal platforms. On each was an inferior being like herself that had failed in every event. She glanced at the instructions.
"YOU ARE WEAKER THAN ALL. YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS BY MENTAL FEATS NOT CAPABLE BY MOST - IMAGINE WHAT MOST CANNOT. WHOMEVER DOESNT SUCCEED SHALL SUFFER THE ULTIMATE PRICE."
She cried, fearing what that meant. She had no great mental gifts; her math was atrocious and she could barely write. Then she had a realization and smiled for the first time in a long while.
"Thank you, Allah."
She slept. Her dreams were more remarkable than anything the other two could imagine. When she woke, it was in her bed. She cried again.
"Thank you truly, Allah."
She slept. | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | It had been an ordinary day for me, I woke up, lumbered over to my computer, did some work, messed around online and so on. The night however, went a little differently.
The moment my head hit the pillow I knew something was off. It felt squishy, almost as if I was lying in a groovy old waterbed, and not on my comfortingly dented mattress.
I rolled over, trying to get into a more comfortable position, angling my arm above my head and contorting my body into a more relaxing pose.
Seeing its face did NOT help me relax.
A grotesque caricature of a man stood before me, easily 8 feet tall, yet disguising its height by slouching, producing a hump-backed effect that made it appear as if it were two people. Its arms (3 of them) were long, fur covered appendages, that stretched around the corners of my pillow-obscured vision.
And then its face.
Teeth the likes of which I’d never imagined, as sharp and numerous as a shark’s, glowing with an eerie, greenish light in the darkness of my room. I could spy a glob of spittle condensing in the corner of its mouth, slowly dripping from the corner of a broken tooth. It’s eyes though were the worst thing of all, and my fatigued brain barely had time to process them before everything returned to darkness.
They were human eyes. Not human as in, white, some colour, little black dot etc, but human as in I could SEE the intelligence behind them, the emotion. The greed.
The next thing I remember is a dull roar, a painful, throbbing noise that seemed to permeate everywhere around me, all encompassing, enveloping me, preventing me from thinking clearly.
Coming to was all too familiar to me, many a night partying in my youth had acquainted me very well with almost anything a hangover could throw at me. I groggily sat up, and painfully opened my eyes, desperate to discover the source of that awful, aneurysm-inducing noise.
What I saw was most definitely not what I was expecting. I was in a glass tube, by the looks of it barely big enough for me to stand up in and hold me inside. The sky above the tube was the pitch black, spotted with stars view you’d only get far out in the country, the kind of sky where the stars seem like glowing shards, fallen from the brighter moon.
But where was the moon?
EDIT: Will post other parts as I go, kinda love the idea of this story if people want me to continue. | [OT]
It say's three comments, but I can't see any at all... Does that mean commenters have been shadow-banned or something? |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | My muscles ache. The lactic acid stings my legs and I cringe as I drape my feet off the top bunk trying to open my eyes. Its still dark outside, although, the light hasn't seemed to change much since I arrived a week ago. The sunlight here feels different, heavier and it adds to the difficulty I've faced at each of these strange events. I'm not sure I can call it sunlight though, more likely its light from some solar analog, like Delta Pavonis. They never told me which one but I know it’s not the sun. The sun has a sweet burn to it. The desire to stare into it feels so strong but the second you do you are reminded why you shouldn't. I miss that kind sentiment from the sun. The relationship it shares with every living thing on Earth and its rotation of energy from plant to animal to human, never expecting anything in return, all the while staying in perfect symbiosis. I used to marvel at our selfishness to deceive the sun of its power. To steal from it to move our vehicles and warm our homes. The sun gave us life 1 billion years ago, and we bestowed upon it a bait and switch.
Here, things are different than they are on Earth. No one speaks to me. I’m sure that they understand me but they really don’t care. It’s not like we were ever real contenders in this arena. We constantly use our creations to compensate for our fragile, deteriorating bodies, and tell ourselves the story that everything will be just fine. From the beginning I knew we must have been chosen out of some political desire to finally rid the galaxy of its pestilence, but at the same time I had to question why I was chosen. If their desire was to eliminate the Earth from planetary suspension, why would they choose someone like me?
I’ve been made fully aware of the consequences of losing these games, but it has not changed the outcome. Despite my greatest efforts I have fallen short over and over again and sit so far into last place that I’m not sure of our fate. Call it fatigue or call it stress, but I’m not sure that there is hope for us. Alas, I can’t give up.
There is a bit of movement outside my cell. I hear a foreign voice speaking in a deep muffled tone. Sounds like Russian to me, but I’m disappointed that it is not. They’re talking about me though, I can tell. Their shadows land in broken pieces on the floor of my cell and they dance back and forth. I hear my cell open and the two guards enter the room. I look them dead in the eyes as I was instructed to do when I first arrived. They don’t like it when you look away. They don’t trust most species outside of this planet, but they certainly don’t trust humans. They point at a uniform that they have brought to me and motion for me to put it on.
“Does it fit?” The first guard asks in deep monotone.
It’s a truly gaudy piece. The Earthling uniform is covered in the names of the sponsors that shipped me here. Exxon, Royal Dutch Shell, China National Petroleum, Sinopec Group, all compete for space on my skin tight suit. To top it off, a Wal-Mart swim cap with its smiling yellow circle sits on my shaved head. I look into the mirror and laugh to myself. I’m quite a sight.
“It fits fine.” It doesn’t, but I know that I have no other choice.
The guards escort me down the hall to the waiting area before the arena doors. I know that today will be my last chance to avoid being the sole source of the demise of my planet, and I know that the universe, much less the world, will be watching, thanks to AT&T’s U-verse sponsorship. A camera hovers in my face with instructions to look distant and cold. They have so far done a great job of painting me as the bad guy, the bane of planetary existence. It doesn’t take much for me to wipe my face of expression. I’m exhausted and have grown weary of this routine.
“Today’s final event will be a special one.”
The announcer echoes throughout the massive arena holding millions from the surrounding planets. His voice is met with a grumbling excitement.
“To commemorate the 100th game of which the Earthlings participate. He shall choose the game.”
Visible fear comes across my face and the camera lights up with instructions.
*Wipe the sweat from your brow. Look into the camera and say “The Game of Lies”*
I am struck with nausea. I’m not sure what this means, but the hovering camera begins to shake and point the end of its Gatling at me.
I yell out, “For the final game, Earth chooses, “The Game of Lies”
Gasps come from around the vibrating arena. The display in front of me flashes:
*“Begin!”*
I stammer at first, not sure what this means. I do as instructed.
“As an Earthling I am given certain privileges... I am born into a society that cares so deeply for one another that we deliver each other from the streets to sanctuary without a second thought. We do not war with one another, because we understand that while there are causes worth dying for, nothing is worth killing for. We provide for those who cannot provide for themselves out of compassion for one another. We are not like you. We do not subject those lesser than us to torture and foreboding, because we understand that we all suffer the same fate. What I do to my brother, I have done to myself. So we live in peace. By living in this way we become strong. The strength does not come from our material form, but a place deeper than the likes of you could imagine. As I have demonstrated to all of you here, I am determined to win, not for fame, but to save my own race. When asked to leap across your greatest Canyon, I did so without hesitation. I am fearless. When sprinting against your beasts of the longest legs, I was victorious and did not stop for breath for I am not easily winded. When hurling your stones, I lifted mine above your sky for I am the strongest that has stepped foot in your arena. And when I awoke, I was well rested and had dreamt only of the solitude of the cell in which I was placed, for I do not want more than I am given. So for these things, I will be victorious. For these things, my planet will be spared.”
The crowd was silent.
The camera in front of my face displayed no message and I was still.
The screen in the center of the arena lit up.
*“100 points to the Earthling for the Game of Lies”*
My name moved from the bottom of the rankings into the Top 100 and the display of my spinning planet disappeared into darkness, safe from the aim of their destructive weapon.
I was not sure how, or why, this event was chosen. Or how the words were pulled from my mouth at a whim, but my planet was safe from harm and I was allowed to leave, a hero to my forever-damned planet.
| Wrestling was our sixth loss in a row. Way to show 'em who's boss, humans. Who knew Venesians were lethal to the touch? "Run like you mean it, Jerome!", I was screaming from the sidelines. The triathlon was in progress and some of the people who competed for the humans were really under par. "This isn't the Paralympics, Mary! This is the Interplanetary! Interplanetary, you hear me?".
Our whole damn planet would be gone if we had lost, and these guys were out there limping like their balls were sore. Curse those Martians for inventing this sick game. We had fantasized about them for centuries and they finally show themselves so they can prove their dominance in a game we invented.
We had already taken been awarded last place in almost all the sports. We lost long jump because Neptunians can change freaking shape. We lost table tennis because people on Jupiter have some crazy reflexes. We lost hockey huge because we were on ice, so the Plutonians wrecked us. We were scraping by with one point behind the Uranians, and it was the last event. Running. Thank god the other guys didn't have legs.
Those God damn Uranians were insanely strong, winning them shotput, but all of their strength was in their arms. Those puny stick legs weren't going to do them much good here. And since Mercurians, being the snobby pricks they are, spent all of their time hovering, everyone couldn't knew they couldn't run for beans.
So there we were. One point from extinction. Needless to say we won the race, or I wouldn't be here telling you this story. I just wish our parting words to the losing planet weren't "You suck, Uranus". |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The intergalactic stadium fell silent as the leader board displayed the score. Its characters were completely foreign to me. I leaned over to ywoarg and asked for clarification. Despite my special helmet designed to translate everything I hear into a language I can understand he seemed to be the only one willing to talk to me.
"It is a list of the scores, human. You are not doing so well. It seems as though you may not have a planet to go back to, though you are still within your potential to save it, if you place first in this last event."
"What's the last event?" As if in answer to my question the board buzzed and the wall of yellow characters was replaced by many fewer, yet larger, green characters. The crowd cheered. I saw one creature at the end of the bench we all sat on start leaping up and down, another began smacking the bench with one of his many appendages. Ywoarg put what I could only assume was his head in what I could only assume was his hands.
"...." Nothing but static came through my helmet. I gave Ywoarg a quizzical look, at this point he had figured out that meant I had no idea what he was saying.
"It is like... complaining, but not just complaining, complaining with no purpose, complaining about things you cannot change, and of course complaining about things that are irrelevant."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are we supposed to complain about? How do you judge a complaint it not by how much the subject of the complaint deserves to be complained about? You know, this whole god damn contest has been rigged against be from the start, you transport me here and ask me to compete against beings who are so physically advanced that some of them don't even need to breathe?" At this point I was yelling as loud as I could.
"I mean I'm no single cell organism like that piece of rice thing over there, but why the Hell even ask me to compete if I have no fucking chance of saving my planet, do you all just like watching lesser beings squirm? Have you all just evolved out of your consciences? You know what, go ahead and destroy my planet, I'm not performing for you sick fucks anymore, I'm not a dancing monkey. And who the fuck destroys a planet? Who do you think you are?" At some point during my tirade I had stood up. Upon looking at the other contestants and crowd behind me I realized everyone was watching me intently. I promptly sat down and tried to hide my head in my knees. No less than 2 seconds later the crowd erupted in cheering. Even other contestants were clapping (I think) for me. I swear I even saw one wipe away a tear.
This editor aucks on my phone will finish after work | Wrestling was our sixth loss in a row. Way to show 'em who's boss, humans. Who knew Venesians were lethal to the touch? "Run like you mean it, Jerome!", I was screaming from the sidelines. The triathlon was in progress and some of the people who competed for the humans were really under par. "This isn't the Paralympics, Mary! This is the Interplanetary! Interplanetary, you hear me?".
Our whole damn planet would be gone if we had lost, and these guys were out there limping like their balls were sore. Curse those Martians for inventing this sick game. We had fantasized about them for centuries and they finally show themselves so they can prove their dominance in a game we invented.
We had already taken been awarded last place in almost all the sports. We lost long jump because Neptunians can change freaking shape. We lost table tennis because people on Jupiter have some crazy reflexes. We lost hockey huge because we were on ice, so the Plutonians wrecked us. We were scraping by with one point behind the Uranians, and it was the last event. Running. Thank god the other guys didn't have legs.
Those God damn Uranians were insanely strong, winning them shotput, but all of their strength was in their arms. Those puny stick legs weren't going to do them much good here. And since Mercurians, being the snobby pricks they are, spent all of their time hovering, everyone couldn't knew they couldn't run for beans.
So there we were. One point from extinction. Needless to say we won the race, or I wouldn't be here telling you this story. I just wish our parting words to the losing planet weren't "You suck, Uranus". |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | Wrestling was our sixth loss in a row. Way to show 'em who's boss, humans. Who knew Venesians were lethal to the touch? "Run like you mean it, Jerome!", I was screaming from the sidelines. The triathlon was in progress and some of the people who competed for the humans were really under par. "This isn't the Paralympics, Mary! This is the Interplanetary! Interplanetary, you hear me?".
Our whole damn planet would be gone if we had lost, and these guys were out there limping like their balls were sore. Curse those Martians for inventing this sick game. We had fantasized about them for centuries and they finally show themselves so they can prove their dominance in a game we invented.
We had already taken been awarded last place in almost all the sports. We lost long jump because Neptunians can change freaking shape. We lost table tennis because people on Jupiter have some crazy reflexes. We lost hockey huge because we were on ice, so the Plutonians wrecked us. We were scraping by with one point behind the Uranians, and it was the last event. Running. Thank god the other guys didn't have legs.
Those God damn Uranians were insanely strong, winning them shotput, but all of their strength was in their arms. Those puny stick legs weren't going to do them much good here. And since Mercurians, being the snobby pricks they are, spent all of their time hovering, everyone couldn't knew they couldn't run for beans.
So there we were. One point from extinction. Needless to say we won the race, or I wouldn't be here telling you this story. I just wish our parting words to the losing planet weren't "You suck, Uranus". |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | I’ve been at this for … I don’t know. A month now? I’m trying to find a good way to explain it without sounding crazy, but honestly, I think maybe I am crazy.
Yes … I’m pretty sure I’ve totally lost my marbles. I’m getting loaded into the pod for the final event right now, and only the Buddy is keeping me from barfing everything I’ve ever eaten all over the glass stuff.
Okay, let’s start over. You know that old show from the 90’s? American Gladiators? Where lunkheads with gigantic muscles wearing leotards decorated with the ole stars and stripes would be the boogiemen as “ordinary” athletic sorts fought them with giant cotton swabs or tried knocking one another off huge monkey bar things? Also, you know the Track and Field part of the Olympics? Also, you know those bizarre Japanese shows where people cause themselves severe bodily harm trying to get through murderous obstacle courses? And like, the standard montage in every movie where someone goes through boot camp?
Take all of those things, and put them in a blender, and pour the resulting sludge down your throat, and that’s what I’m in right now. There’s more things, events that I can’t even begin to understand. I think I lost the “Deathmatch” but survived somehow, that was last week. Pretty sure I’ve won every “piss your pants” event, though. Hah. I can’t tell what they’re judging most of the time.
I forgot to add the setting. It’s like a stadium, I guess, but it’s a great big dome. It’s mostly glass. Well. Probably not glass-glass, but like, you know, glassy. See-through, and what I can see through it is different for every event, and it sometimes is just so damn beautiful I just want to stare, but usually just makes my stomach do flip-flops and my Buddy gives me some sort of anti-barf jab.
And the live studio audience is … like everything. Aliens. All sorts. Big clattery bugs and wet oozy slimeboys and fluffy smirky teeth-beasts, and I don’t even have the words for most because they don’t make sense to my head so I just sort of see this censored blur. Thank god? Thank the Buddy? Maybe.
Oh. I didn’t explain the Buddy. It snapped onto my head like a helmet my first day here, it’s like an octopus hat and it’s got little arms that hold it in place, or jab me with medicine, or force me to eat and drink when I tried to refuse that one time.
It covers most of my head, so I’m guessing it’s doing the visual filtering. It does audio filtering too; I hear every sound as it is, but I also hear translations. Things I don’t *want to hear* but it doesn’t really care. When the air doesn’t match Earth’s, which is most of the time, it also covers my mouth and nose. I don’t know what it’s called, so I call it the Buddy, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing around here interested in keeping me alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a robot or organic, but it’s squishy and warm and I’m really kind of fond of the little bugger.
Anyways, yesterday I lost the shit out of a contest which I think was a race. We were … trying to swim/run/bounce on this … lake? You know how when you mix cornstarch and water and it’s this white paste that you can squeeze with your hand into a solid and then it melts? It’s like that. Only the color isn’t nice safe white, it’s a mix of old-piss yellow and soft rosy pink and sky blue, all clumped together in random patches. And it smelled like oranges. I don’t want to talk about how it tasted. The Buddy wasn’t filtering my air for this event. I resent that, Buddy.
I managed to run on the top of it for a while ,but I gradually started to sink and once I got down to my armpits, I tried to just … not drown in bizarre orange-scented slime. Another miserable failure, just like all of the others.
The Buddy blacked me out and I woke up back in my pen. I want to call it a dorm, but it’s a pen. People—they’re people, even if they’re not human—come and gawk at me and make noises, and the Buddy translates it to stuff people say when looking at zoo animals.
So anyhow, I managed to hear the opening ceremonies, and this is why I’m terrified. If I come in last, they’re going to invade Earth and just … wipe it clean. I thought at first that I’d do OK. I mean, just don’t come in last right? But I’m pretty sure I’m last now.
I’m not in the greatest shape, but I did some soccer back in high school and I have to run around campus a lot so I managed to avoid the Freshman Fifteen and all, but … I mean, when I don’t even understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing in some of these competitions, when I don’t grasp the judging criteria at all? It’s frustrating. All I can do to keep trying.
I always figured if aliens were out there, if they got far enough along to get space travel, that they’d have their shit together, you know? That they’d be *civilized*. But these folk are just all so … I don’t know. Feral. Different values, maybe? I don’t know. But they seem to love it when I’m barbaric and violent and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Does it help or hurt my standing to shout obscenities at the crowd?
Except I can’t get my Gladiator “Are you not entertained?” moment, because I don’t win those fights. The guys with the claws and fangs win those.
So yeah, here we are, the final event, and again they haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, nothing really. I can almost feel steam coming from my ears. I’ve got the fate of the *fucking world* in my hands and they won’t even explain the rules.
Big arena. Maybe a melee deathmatch, I don’t know. Smooth stone ground. It’s not really stone. It looks like stone, and while it’s firm, it has some give to it, like foam. I’m sitting down. I’m ignoring the other competitors. It’s all I can do to not scream at the judges. Not even sure what the judges are, but I have to assume they’re watching from those little floatbots. Maybe watching through the Buddy. Deep breaths. The others can tear one another to bits.
There’s the noise that means we’re starting. I’m going to close my eyes because I don’t want to see this coming.
I don’t want to hear it either, but the Buddy’s not going to let me block my ears. Humming helps, though. I’m going to rock back and forth now, and hopefully when the noises go away I’ll open my eyes and be in a nice padded room.
Please let me be in a nice padded room.
Nobody’s swiping at me with claws. No rush of pain. The noises are quieting down. I think I’m going to come out of this psychotic break any second now. Yes. I’m going to be back on Earth in the mental ward and I don’t care. It was stress. It was work and schoolwork and not enough money and having no clue what I’m going do with my life, and all of that panic and stress and I just … put myself in something worse, so that I’d long for the terrors of the simple life on earth where all I have to worry about is poverty.
…
Shit. I just peeked and I’m Still. Fucking. Here. I don’t want this to be real. It can’t be real. I refuse to allow it to be real. I’m going to wake up in that padded room any second now.
Everyone else is still sitting around. I want them to be my fellow inmates. They’re just other crazy people locked up here with me, and they’re not aliens from other worlds.
Earth is safe. It’s not going to be razed to the bedrock by a plague of horrors.
I am not in some other solar system. I’ve never been in outer space in my life. I don’t care how realistic this has been. I can’t accept it. I deny it.
The crowd is being noisy again. That’s not a group of spectators. It’s my family trying to bring me back from my crazy spell. The Buddy isn’t some octopus hat. It’s a burly orderly trying to keep me from hurting myself.
I can put this all together in my head, and I’m trying my damndest to believe it, because being completely insane is *so* much better than being responsible for the fate of the world.
-----
> Cue primitive flat video-broadcast. Shot of chitinous bipedal Representative, rough manipulators folded, fine manipulators gesturing expansively as translation device provides basic audio communication in local dialect and projected visual language glyphs
"Citizens of the Planet known as Earth, congratulations. One amongst you was the victor in the Galaxy Games, and so your humble home is safe. We return him to you unharmed."
> Focus shot of a young human, squinting in the sunlight, standing beside the Representative. Human seems shaky and possibly ill.
"After his remarkable demonstration of humanity’s stubbornness, survival instinct, and powerful ability to deny reality, we come to you openly begin negotiations to bring Earth into our Alien Association; it is clear that you are ready to exist amongst us. Welcome. Congratulations on your continued survival."
> The young human’s eyes begin to leak.
| Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | I woke up with a nasty headache. Probably drank too much last night, like every saturday. Not that I remember much of last night. Heck, its been a while since I managed to recover 8 hours of memories. I know I'm drinking too much. Like way to much. But I dont really care. It helps me forget. Helps me get over it. Helps me think it might have all just been a dream, or rather a nightmare.
It was a Sunday morning, much like this very Sunday morning. I remember the hangover, but it was nothing compared to what I have now. It was your normal, casual hangover from hanging out with friends. Friends. Been a while since I've seen any of them. Probably too busy with college and stuff, or just not wanting to hang out with a drunk like me. Or maybe we hung out last night? Can't remember.
Anyways, I was telling a story here so better get on with it before the chili con carne from last night finds its way back up. Or was it pizza? So there I was slowly trying to pull myself together to get up and I notice theres like bright light all over the place. Naturally I just squeeze my eyes tight and wait for the light to dim down. Stupid hangover. I should really learn to stop drinking when I'm drunk. I wait for like 30 seconds, or it could have been 30 minutes, its all a bit blurry you know. The light doesn't dim down. I squint and see I'm not where I'm supposed to be. Shit. Not again. Did I drink that much? Last month I woke up in some strange girls apartment. Barely managed to sneak out before she woke up. I look around and try to asses the situation and hope to not see some big hairy dude lying next to me.
I turn around. Theres a big hairy dude drooling on a pillow. Fuck. Just fuck. What the fuck did I do last night? Like seriously what the fuck happened? Priority change. The shock made me sober up a bit. I need to get out of here. Fast. As I carefully sweep away the sheets to not wake up the sasquatch next to me, I try and look for the exit. Then I notice I'm inside something this is best described as a glass cubicle sitting in the middle of nowhere. By then I'm convinced I'm not really awake and still tripping my balls off. I must have been convinced to try some shrooms or something, probably by Johnny. Jup, sounds like something he would get me to do. Lets give drunken Jim some shrooms so he'll totally be out of this world! Next time I see him I'll ...
"And it seems that earthling number 2 will be the chosen one!" blasts through my head, and suddenly the box is no longer in the middle of nowhere. I am now surrounded by a massive arena filled with thousands of ...well thousands of something. Its not humans, its aliens. Like the whole star wars cast at least. Whatever Johnny gave me its some serious drugstuff. On the bed fatty finally woke up. "Huh? What?" is all he could muster before metal clamps shout out of the bed and anchored him to it.
"Greeting Earthling, you have been chosen to compete for your planet in the final event of the interplanetary olympics. As you are currently in last place, the fate of your planet depends on you," said the same voice again, pounding through my hangover like a thousands sledgehammers. The crowd roared. "Wait what?" I stuttered. Since this was all my imagination, might as well play along and have a good time. Maybe my drug induced fantasy might manage to bring in the cute girl at the bar from last night, so...
"Ha, the human doesn't seem to understand. By the name of Zorg, I knew these humans were stupid, but this stupid?" spoke the announcer, followed by some weird gargling from the crowd. "The last placed planet of the interplanetary games will be destroyed as punishment for your terrible performance. The first placed planet gets too push the button as a reward, along with eternal glory of course. Seen as your fellow earthlings have all performed terribly, earth is currently placed last. But, not all hope is lost, as the planet of Xarxan has also been rather terrible this year. You two must compete in a final event to decide who will be last."
This was a lot to take in, even if your head doesn't feel like it has a thousand horses stampeding inside it. Apparently I was at some sort of contest, and if I lost these aliens would destroy earth. I gotta remember this so I can tell Johnny what he put me through. I'll forcefeed him some of his shrooms next time.
I also noticed a similar glass cubicle to my left, with a similar bed inside and two aliens. Can't really describe them, other than 'tentacly' theres not really a word that fits them. But one of them was clamped to the bed like my fat friend, and the second one was standing next to the bed just like me.
| Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | My muscles ache. The lactic acid stings my legs and I cringe as I drape my feet off the top bunk trying to open my eyes. Its still dark outside, although, the light hasn't seemed to change much since I arrived a week ago. The sunlight here feels different, heavier and it adds to the difficulty I've faced at each of these strange events. I'm not sure I can call it sunlight though, more likely its light from some solar analog, like Delta Pavonis. They never told me which one but I know it’s not the sun. The sun has a sweet burn to it. The desire to stare into it feels so strong but the second you do you are reminded why you shouldn't. I miss that kind sentiment from the sun. The relationship it shares with every living thing on Earth and its rotation of energy from plant to animal to human, never expecting anything in return, all the while staying in perfect symbiosis. I used to marvel at our selfishness to deceive the sun of its power. To steal from it to move our vehicles and warm our homes. The sun gave us life 1 billion years ago, and we bestowed upon it a bait and switch.
Here, things are different than they are on Earth. No one speaks to me. I’m sure that they understand me but they really don’t care. It’s not like we were ever real contenders in this arena. We constantly use our creations to compensate for our fragile, deteriorating bodies, and tell ourselves the story that everything will be just fine. From the beginning I knew we must have been chosen out of some political desire to finally rid the galaxy of its pestilence, but at the same time I had to question why I was chosen. If their desire was to eliminate the Earth from planetary suspension, why would they choose someone like me?
I’ve been made fully aware of the consequences of losing these games, but it has not changed the outcome. Despite my greatest efforts I have fallen short over and over again and sit so far into last place that I’m not sure of our fate. Call it fatigue or call it stress, but I’m not sure that there is hope for us. Alas, I can’t give up.
There is a bit of movement outside my cell. I hear a foreign voice speaking in a deep muffled tone. Sounds like Russian to me, but I’m disappointed that it is not. They’re talking about me though, I can tell. Their shadows land in broken pieces on the floor of my cell and they dance back and forth. I hear my cell open and the two guards enter the room. I look them dead in the eyes as I was instructed to do when I first arrived. They don’t like it when you look away. They don’t trust most species outside of this planet, but they certainly don’t trust humans. They point at a uniform that they have brought to me and motion for me to put it on.
“Does it fit?” The first guard asks in deep monotone.
It’s a truly gaudy piece. The Earthling uniform is covered in the names of the sponsors that shipped me here. Exxon, Royal Dutch Shell, China National Petroleum, Sinopec Group, all compete for space on my skin tight suit. To top it off, a Wal-Mart swim cap with its smiling yellow circle sits on my shaved head. I look into the mirror and laugh to myself. I’m quite a sight.
“It fits fine.” It doesn’t, but I know that I have no other choice.
The guards escort me down the hall to the waiting area before the arena doors. I know that today will be my last chance to avoid being the sole source of the demise of my planet, and I know that the universe, much less the world, will be watching, thanks to AT&T’s U-verse sponsorship. A camera hovers in my face with instructions to look distant and cold. They have so far done a great job of painting me as the bad guy, the bane of planetary existence. It doesn’t take much for me to wipe my face of expression. I’m exhausted and have grown weary of this routine.
“Today’s final event will be a special one.”
The announcer echoes throughout the massive arena holding millions from the surrounding planets. His voice is met with a grumbling excitement.
“To commemorate the 100th game of which the Earthlings participate. He shall choose the game.”
Visible fear comes across my face and the camera lights up with instructions.
*Wipe the sweat from your brow. Look into the camera and say “The Game of Lies”*
I am struck with nausea. I’m not sure what this means, but the hovering camera begins to shake and point the end of its Gatling at me.
I yell out, “For the final game, Earth chooses, “The Game of Lies”
Gasps come from around the vibrating arena. The display in front of me flashes:
*“Begin!”*
I stammer at first, not sure what this means. I do as instructed.
“As an Earthling I am given certain privileges... I am born into a society that cares so deeply for one another that we deliver each other from the streets to sanctuary without a second thought. We do not war with one another, because we understand that while there are causes worth dying for, nothing is worth killing for. We provide for those who cannot provide for themselves out of compassion for one another. We are not like you. We do not subject those lesser than us to torture and foreboding, because we understand that we all suffer the same fate. What I do to my brother, I have done to myself. So we live in peace. By living in this way we become strong. The strength does not come from our material form, but a place deeper than the likes of you could imagine. As I have demonstrated to all of you here, I am determined to win, not for fame, but to save my own race. When asked to leap across your greatest Canyon, I did so without hesitation. I am fearless. When sprinting against your beasts of the longest legs, I was victorious and did not stop for breath for I am not easily winded. When hurling your stones, I lifted mine above your sky for I am the strongest that has stepped foot in your arena. And when I awoke, I was well rested and had dreamt only of the solitude of the cell in which I was placed, for I do not want more than I am given. So for these things, I will be victorious. For these things, my planet will be spared.”
The crowd was silent.
The camera in front of my face displayed no message and I was still.
The screen in the center of the arena lit up.
*“100 points to the Earthling for the Game of Lies”*
My name moved from the bottom of the rankings into the Top 100 and the display of my spinning planet disappeared into darkness, safe from the aim of their destructive weapon.
I was not sure how, or why, this event was chosen. Or how the words were pulled from my mouth at a whim, but my planet was safe from harm and I was allowed to leave, a hero to my forever-damned planet.
| Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Carl was miserable. Under any other circumstances, he would be awestruck at the sky that stretched out before him: a black canvas washed with swirling blue and pink nebula, dwarfed only by the ringed planet that hung at its zenith. But Carl didn't even take notice as he sat sulking in a lukewarm bath of rejuvenating goo. His muscles ached, but the pain slowly faded as the goo did whatever it did to repair the torn tissue.
Next to Carl, in it's own goo-bath was Xthigrchloooo (whose nickname, Carl was relieved to learn, was Xth), a tentacled transluscent blue creature whos skin felt like smooth rubber and emitted a faint glow. Xth had no obvious orifices on its body, but Carl learned during his first night at the games that Xth ate his food by surrounding it like a white blood cell attacking a bacteria, slowly absorbing it. Xth's seven "eyes" were glowing orbs that hovered about 2 inches underneath his skin. Six of the seven eyes currently focused on Carl with what he could only imagine was pity.
"Cheer up," Xth said. "There's still one event left, and all you have to do is not be in last place. How difficult can that be?" The translator device that Carl wore in his ear was uncomfortably warm as it worked overtime to simplify Xth's burbling speech into something he could comprehend. The acclimation-handler to whom Carl had been assigned on the first day--a silica-based entity called Maeas that moved by destroying and regrowing it's body's crystalline structure--had unceremoniously shoved the translator into Carl's ear before explaining to him that the device would create a substantial amount of heat as it worked to dumb down the various alien languages into something his human brain could handle. It was all downhill from there.
"That's easy for you to say," Carl sighed. "You've placed high enough to guarantee that your planet won't be obliterated." Carl eyed the three medals that were lodged halfway into Xth's body. Xth's first place medal was made of a large black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. He also wore two 3rd place medals. These medals were similar to the first place award, but the central black disc was surrounded by three yellow discs. It wasn't until this moment that as Carl, exhausted and unable to focus on anything but the Xth's medals, realized that the medals represented atoms, with 1st place being hydrogen.
"You took 768th place in yesterday's event," Xth encouraged.
Carl rolled his eyes.
"That was pure luck. Even after the event was explained to me, I had no idea what I was doing. I jumped through a hole in a wall and landed face first in the mud."
"And you did it better than 84,000 other competitors! Clearly, though, that was an event for the Purians. They win it every cycle." Xth sank further into his goo bath with a gurgling sound that Carl's translator didn't bother with, so Carl just assumed it was a relaxed sigh. "Get some rest," Xth continued, "and don't worry yourself about tomorrow. I have a feeling your luck will change."
*How did I get here?* Carl asked himself; he meant the question figuratively *and* literally, as he had no recollection of how he had been transported from his apartment in New York to a planet in a binary star system on the other side of the Milky Way. Had his entire boring life been leading up to this moment, or was he just a random selection among the 7 billion people on earth? All he knew was that he had been selected to represent Earth--just as Xth and all of the other competitors had been chosen to stand for their own worlds--in some galactic contest of ... what? Will? Strength? Intelligence? Carl had no idea.
Carl sank into his goo bath. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt the goo become firm around his body -- the goo baths, for the aliens that used them, were also their beds. This was something that Carl was only now getting used to. Soon, though, the acrid smell of the bath faded as Carl's brain shut down for the night. He dreamed of pizza and rude cab drivers.
Carl was jolted awake by a blaring klaxon followed by an annoucement: "Competitors, please report to Event quadrant three for the final game." Pulling his arms from the now solidified goo bath, Carl rubbed his eyes and turned to say "good morning" to Xth, but Xth was gone. There was a Xth-shaped whole in his bath, but no Xth. That saddened Carl. Xth, despite being sentient Jell-O, was the only being that bothered to speak to Carl during his six days at the game. Many of the aliens he had encountered seemed to have no emotions at all, or emotions that were completely incomprehensible to Carl, but Xth was different. He seemd to understand Carl and even empathize with him. Carl admitted to himself that he was actually going to miss Xth when this was over.
Reluctantly, Carl pulled himself out of his bath. He slid himself into his competition garment, an impossibly thin unitard that seemed to have no weight. He couldn't even feel it against his skin.
A glowing red line on the ground guided Carl to the event area. He followed it to a large gray dome that rose a few hundred feet into the air. As he approached the wall of the dome, a Carl-shaped hole opened, revealing the bright interior. Next to him, a familiar shape appeared. Xth's seven orbs focused on Carl. "Goodbye and good luck, Carl. You have done your planet a great service." Xth began to slide through his own hole in the dome wall.
"Thanks, Xth, I--wait, what do you mean 'goodbye'?" Carl asked. But Xth's hole had already begun to close behind him. Carl stepped through his hole. There seemed to be some kind of invisible field over the hole, as Carl had to push his body through it. He smelled ozone and felt a tinlgling feeling as he passed through the hole.
*Maybe Xth's right,* Carl thought with a surge of confidence. *Despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing, I only have to avoid losing this event completely so save Earth. Maybe I can do this.*
Carl's body surged forward with a newly found confidence as he pushed through the finally few inches of the dome wall, popped out into the bright interior of the arena, and promptly collapsed to the ground.
The pain was unbearable. His lungs burned. Searing pane shot through the entire length of his body and seemed to occupy every cell. Carl couldn't breath. His muscles convulsed involuntarily as his mind and body tried desperately to find oxygen. His fists were balled so tightly that he could feel his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. Carl's eyes were wet with blood. He shut them tightly as the pain gave way to overwhelming fear and sadness at his failure.
A strong bolt of pain caused Carl to open his eyes. Through a green haze of the dome's atmosphere, Carl could see the faint outlines of other competitors. Many of them were motionless. Some moved about slowly inside the dome. Carl spotted Xth to his left, looking somewhat disappointed, but otherwise unharmed. Before Carl's eyes closed again, he saw Xth's glowing eyes settle on his writhing body. For a moment, Carl could have sworn that Xth's expression was one of pride or happiness. As Carl's vision faded, he closed his eyes tightly. Pinpoints of light peppered his sight as his mind reeled with visions of his family, friends and billion of other innocent people screaming as Earth exploded into a cloud of debris.
*Will they curse my name?* Carl wondered. *Will they even know I'm the one who doomed them to extinction?*
The pain in Carl's body began to subside. His muscles relaxed. He thought of Star Wars and espresso, and fresh cut grass, and koalas.
*I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.*
And Carl was dead.
In the dome, the rest of the more than 84,000 competitors wandered aimlessly, disappointed, around the inside of the dome. Hours passed.
A few more aliens collapsed and expired. Then, the dome began to open.
Several of the competitors, including Xth, approached Carl's lifeless body. A small grey rock-like being floated towards Carl. The competitors who had encircled his body parted to allow the grey being to approach him. The grey rock descended to hover inches over Carl's corpse. Small black tentacles grew from the grey rock and extended towards Carl's face. They touched his cold skin and felt along his body. Seconds later, the tentacles retracted back into the grey being's body. A small hole opened in its side, and a larger tentacle placed something on Carl's chest: a small black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. | Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The intergalactic stadium fell silent as the leader board displayed the score. Its characters were completely foreign to me. I leaned over to ywoarg and asked for clarification. Despite my special helmet designed to translate everything I hear into a language I can understand he seemed to be the only one willing to talk to me.
"It is a list of the scores, human. You are not doing so well. It seems as though you may not have a planet to go back to, though you are still within your potential to save it, if you place first in this last event."
"What's the last event?" As if in answer to my question the board buzzed and the wall of yellow characters was replaced by many fewer, yet larger, green characters. The crowd cheered. I saw one creature at the end of the bench we all sat on start leaping up and down, another began smacking the bench with one of his many appendages. Ywoarg put what I could only assume was his head in what I could only assume was his hands.
"...." Nothing but static came through my helmet. I gave Ywoarg a quizzical look, at this point he had figured out that meant I had no idea what he was saying.
"It is like... complaining, but not just complaining, complaining with no purpose, complaining about things you cannot change, and of course complaining about things that are irrelevant."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are we supposed to complain about? How do you judge a complaint it not by how much the subject of the complaint deserves to be complained about? You know, this whole god damn contest has been rigged against be from the start, you transport me here and ask me to compete against beings who are so physically advanced that some of them don't even need to breathe?" At this point I was yelling as loud as I could.
"I mean I'm no single cell organism like that piece of rice thing over there, but why the Hell even ask me to compete if I have no fucking chance of saving my planet, do you all just like watching lesser beings squirm? Have you all just evolved out of your consciences? You know what, go ahead and destroy my planet, I'm not performing for you sick fucks anymore, I'm not a dancing monkey. And who the fuck destroys a planet? Who do you think you are?" At some point during my tirade I had stood up. Upon looking at the other contestants and crowd behind me I realized everyone was watching me intently. I promptly sat down and tried to hide my head in my knees. No less than 2 seconds later the crowd erupted in cheering. Even other contestants were clapping (I think) for me. I swear I even saw one wipe away a tear.
This editor aucks on my phone will finish after work | Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | Dan was dead.
It had felt like a month but in reality it had only took 4 hours. 4 hours he'd never get back. 4 hours of pure, raw and irritatingly hard math. He'd put it off and off promising that tomorrow he do it... and you know what? Tomorrow turned out to be a month from when he got the project. He'd stayed up for 96 hours, 4 days, almost a complete school week just for this project.... and he spent only 4 hours actually doing it. He didn't think it'd be that quick. That depressingly quick. The very thought that this thing. This weight that had been on Dan's shoulders all this time was only 4 hours of work, it drained Dan.
Dan was dead.
His eyes were crusting over, his voice was hoarse and his skin was marked with unhealed cuts. It was time for bed and the voice of Reggie Fils-Aime echoed in his head, "My body is ready". Dan laughed to himself and unconsciously mumbled to himself, "ahm.. ahmm soo funny". Did he really say that out loud? He didn't remember. He was too tired to think about stuff like that. Dan pulled the blanket out from his bed, centered his pillow, fell onto his bed... and now was standing in a coliseum.
Unintelligible yells were everywhere, they were no where. They were somewhere? Dan was too tired to think about anything other than being tired.
And then he fell asleep.
In just 5 seconds, humanity had won a point in the Intergalactic Olympics. Humanity had won the sleeping competition.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | My muscles ache. The lactic acid stings my legs and I cringe as I drape my feet off the top bunk trying to open my eyes. Its still dark outside, although, the light hasn't seemed to change much since I arrived a week ago. The sunlight here feels different, heavier and it adds to the difficulty I've faced at each of these strange events. I'm not sure I can call it sunlight though, more likely its light from some solar analog, like Delta Pavonis. They never told me which one but I know it’s not the sun. The sun has a sweet burn to it. The desire to stare into it feels so strong but the second you do you are reminded why you shouldn't. I miss that kind sentiment from the sun. The relationship it shares with every living thing on Earth and its rotation of energy from plant to animal to human, never expecting anything in return, all the while staying in perfect symbiosis. I used to marvel at our selfishness to deceive the sun of its power. To steal from it to move our vehicles and warm our homes. The sun gave us life 1 billion years ago, and we bestowed upon it a bait and switch.
Here, things are different than they are on Earth. No one speaks to me. I’m sure that they understand me but they really don’t care. It’s not like we were ever real contenders in this arena. We constantly use our creations to compensate for our fragile, deteriorating bodies, and tell ourselves the story that everything will be just fine. From the beginning I knew we must have been chosen out of some political desire to finally rid the galaxy of its pestilence, but at the same time I had to question why I was chosen. If their desire was to eliminate the Earth from planetary suspension, why would they choose someone like me?
I’ve been made fully aware of the consequences of losing these games, but it has not changed the outcome. Despite my greatest efforts I have fallen short over and over again and sit so far into last place that I’m not sure of our fate. Call it fatigue or call it stress, but I’m not sure that there is hope for us. Alas, I can’t give up.
There is a bit of movement outside my cell. I hear a foreign voice speaking in a deep muffled tone. Sounds like Russian to me, but I’m disappointed that it is not. They’re talking about me though, I can tell. Their shadows land in broken pieces on the floor of my cell and they dance back and forth. I hear my cell open and the two guards enter the room. I look them dead in the eyes as I was instructed to do when I first arrived. They don’t like it when you look away. They don’t trust most species outside of this planet, but they certainly don’t trust humans. They point at a uniform that they have brought to me and motion for me to put it on.
“Does it fit?” The first guard asks in deep monotone.
It’s a truly gaudy piece. The Earthling uniform is covered in the names of the sponsors that shipped me here. Exxon, Royal Dutch Shell, China National Petroleum, Sinopec Group, all compete for space on my skin tight suit. To top it off, a Wal-Mart swim cap with its smiling yellow circle sits on my shaved head. I look into the mirror and laugh to myself. I’m quite a sight.
“It fits fine.” It doesn’t, but I know that I have no other choice.
The guards escort me down the hall to the waiting area before the arena doors. I know that today will be my last chance to avoid being the sole source of the demise of my planet, and I know that the universe, much less the world, will be watching, thanks to AT&T’s U-verse sponsorship. A camera hovers in my face with instructions to look distant and cold. They have so far done a great job of painting me as the bad guy, the bane of planetary existence. It doesn’t take much for me to wipe my face of expression. I’m exhausted and have grown weary of this routine.
“Today’s final event will be a special one.”
The announcer echoes throughout the massive arena holding millions from the surrounding planets. His voice is met with a grumbling excitement.
“To commemorate the 100th game of which the Earthlings participate. He shall choose the game.”
Visible fear comes across my face and the camera lights up with instructions.
*Wipe the sweat from your brow. Look into the camera and say “The Game of Lies”*
I am struck with nausea. I’m not sure what this means, but the hovering camera begins to shake and point the end of its Gatling at me.
I yell out, “For the final game, Earth chooses, “The Game of Lies”
Gasps come from around the vibrating arena. The display in front of me flashes:
*“Begin!”*
I stammer at first, not sure what this means. I do as instructed.
“As an Earthling I am given certain privileges... I am born into a society that cares so deeply for one another that we deliver each other from the streets to sanctuary without a second thought. We do not war with one another, because we understand that while there are causes worth dying for, nothing is worth killing for. We provide for those who cannot provide for themselves out of compassion for one another. We are not like you. We do not subject those lesser than us to torture and foreboding, because we understand that we all suffer the same fate. What I do to my brother, I have done to myself. So we live in peace. By living in this way we become strong. The strength does not come from our material form, but a place deeper than the likes of you could imagine. As I have demonstrated to all of you here, I am determined to win, not for fame, but to save my own race. When asked to leap across your greatest Canyon, I did so without hesitation. I am fearless. When sprinting against your beasts of the longest legs, I was victorious and did not stop for breath for I am not easily winded. When hurling your stones, I lifted mine above your sky for I am the strongest that has stepped foot in your arena. And when I awoke, I was well rested and had dreamt only of the solitude of the cell in which I was placed, for I do not want more than I am given. So for these things, I will be victorious. For these things, my planet will be spared.”
The crowd was silent.
The camera in front of my face displayed no message and I was still.
The screen in the center of the arena lit up.
*“100 points to the Earthling for the Game of Lies”*
My name moved from the bottom of the rankings into the Top 100 and the display of my spinning planet disappeared into darkness, safe from the aim of their destructive weapon.
I was not sure how, or why, this event was chosen. Or how the words were pulled from my mouth at a whim, but my planet was safe from harm and I was allowed to leave, a hero to my forever-damned planet.
| I’ve been at this for … I don’t know. A month now? I’m trying to find a good way to explain it without sounding crazy, but honestly, I think maybe I am crazy.
Yes … I’m pretty sure I’ve totally lost my marbles. I’m getting loaded into the pod for the final event right now, and only the Buddy is keeping me from barfing everything I’ve ever eaten all over the glass stuff.
Okay, let’s start over. You know that old show from the 90’s? American Gladiators? Where lunkheads with gigantic muscles wearing leotards decorated with the ole stars and stripes would be the boogiemen as “ordinary” athletic sorts fought them with giant cotton swabs or tried knocking one another off huge monkey bar things? Also, you know the Track and Field part of the Olympics? Also, you know those bizarre Japanese shows where people cause themselves severe bodily harm trying to get through murderous obstacle courses? And like, the standard montage in every movie where someone goes through boot camp?
Take all of those things, and put them in a blender, and pour the resulting sludge down your throat, and that’s what I’m in right now. There’s more things, events that I can’t even begin to understand. I think I lost the “Deathmatch” but survived somehow, that was last week. Pretty sure I’ve won every “piss your pants” event, though. Hah. I can’t tell what they’re judging most of the time.
I forgot to add the setting. It’s like a stadium, I guess, but it’s a great big dome. It’s mostly glass. Well. Probably not glass-glass, but like, you know, glassy. See-through, and what I can see through it is different for every event, and it sometimes is just so damn beautiful I just want to stare, but usually just makes my stomach do flip-flops and my Buddy gives me some sort of anti-barf jab.
And the live studio audience is … like everything. Aliens. All sorts. Big clattery bugs and wet oozy slimeboys and fluffy smirky teeth-beasts, and I don’t even have the words for most because they don’t make sense to my head so I just sort of see this censored blur. Thank god? Thank the Buddy? Maybe.
Oh. I didn’t explain the Buddy. It snapped onto my head like a helmet my first day here, it’s like an octopus hat and it’s got little arms that hold it in place, or jab me with medicine, or force me to eat and drink when I tried to refuse that one time.
It covers most of my head, so I’m guessing it’s doing the visual filtering. It does audio filtering too; I hear every sound as it is, but I also hear translations. Things I don’t *want to hear* but it doesn’t really care. When the air doesn’t match Earth’s, which is most of the time, it also covers my mouth and nose. I don’t know what it’s called, so I call it the Buddy, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing around here interested in keeping me alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a robot or organic, but it’s squishy and warm and I’m really kind of fond of the little bugger.
Anyways, yesterday I lost the shit out of a contest which I think was a race. We were … trying to swim/run/bounce on this … lake? You know how when you mix cornstarch and water and it’s this white paste that you can squeeze with your hand into a solid and then it melts? It’s like that. Only the color isn’t nice safe white, it’s a mix of old-piss yellow and soft rosy pink and sky blue, all clumped together in random patches. And it smelled like oranges. I don’t want to talk about how it tasted. The Buddy wasn’t filtering my air for this event. I resent that, Buddy.
I managed to run on the top of it for a while ,but I gradually started to sink and once I got down to my armpits, I tried to just … not drown in bizarre orange-scented slime. Another miserable failure, just like all of the others.
The Buddy blacked me out and I woke up back in my pen. I want to call it a dorm, but it’s a pen. People—they’re people, even if they’re not human—come and gawk at me and make noises, and the Buddy translates it to stuff people say when looking at zoo animals.
So anyhow, I managed to hear the opening ceremonies, and this is why I’m terrified. If I come in last, they’re going to invade Earth and just … wipe it clean. I thought at first that I’d do OK. I mean, just don’t come in last right? But I’m pretty sure I’m last now.
I’m not in the greatest shape, but I did some soccer back in high school and I have to run around campus a lot so I managed to avoid the Freshman Fifteen and all, but … I mean, when I don’t even understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing in some of these competitions, when I don’t grasp the judging criteria at all? It’s frustrating. All I can do to keep trying.
I always figured if aliens were out there, if they got far enough along to get space travel, that they’d have their shit together, you know? That they’d be *civilized*. But these folk are just all so … I don’t know. Feral. Different values, maybe? I don’t know. But they seem to love it when I’m barbaric and violent and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Does it help or hurt my standing to shout obscenities at the crowd?
Except I can’t get my Gladiator “Are you not entertained?” moment, because I don’t win those fights. The guys with the claws and fangs win those.
So yeah, here we are, the final event, and again they haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, nothing really. I can almost feel steam coming from my ears. I’ve got the fate of the *fucking world* in my hands and they won’t even explain the rules.
Big arena. Maybe a melee deathmatch, I don’t know. Smooth stone ground. It’s not really stone. It looks like stone, and while it’s firm, it has some give to it, like foam. I’m sitting down. I’m ignoring the other competitors. It’s all I can do to not scream at the judges. Not even sure what the judges are, but I have to assume they’re watching from those little floatbots. Maybe watching through the Buddy. Deep breaths. The others can tear one another to bits.
There’s the noise that means we’re starting. I’m going to close my eyes because I don’t want to see this coming.
I don’t want to hear it either, but the Buddy’s not going to let me block my ears. Humming helps, though. I’m going to rock back and forth now, and hopefully when the noises go away I’ll open my eyes and be in a nice padded room.
Please let me be in a nice padded room.
Nobody’s swiping at me with claws. No rush of pain. The noises are quieting down. I think I’m going to come out of this psychotic break any second now. Yes. I’m going to be back on Earth in the mental ward and I don’t care. It was stress. It was work and schoolwork and not enough money and having no clue what I’m going do with my life, and all of that panic and stress and I just … put myself in something worse, so that I’d long for the terrors of the simple life on earth where all I have to worry about is poverty.
…
Shit. I just peeked and I’m Still. Fucking. Here. I don’t want this to be real. It can’t be real. I refuse to allow it to be real. I’m going to wake up in that padded room any second now.
Everyone else is still sitting around. I want them to be my fellow inmates. They’re just other crazy people locked up here with me, and they’re not aliens from other worlds.
Earth is safe. It’s not going to be razed to the bedrock by a plague of horrors.
I am not in some other solar system. I’ve never been in outer space in my life. I don’t care how realistic this has been. I can’t accept it. I deny it.
The crowd is being noisy again. That’s not a group of spectators. It’s my family trying to bring me back from my crazy spell. The Buddy isn’t some octopus hat. It’s a burly orderly trying to keep me from hurting myself.
I can put this all together in my head, and I’m trying my damndest to believe it, because being completely insane is *so* much better than being responsible for the fate of the world.
-----
> Cue primitive flat video-broadcast. Shot of chitinous bipedal Representative, rough manipulators folded, fine manipulators gesturing expansively as translation device provides basic audio communication in local dialect and projected visual language glyphs
"Citizens of the Planet known as Earth, congratulations. One amongst you was the victor in the Galaxy Games, and so your humble home is safe. We return him to you unharmed."
> Focus shot of a young human, squinting in the sunlight, standing beside the Representative. Human seems shaky and possibly ill.
"After his remarkable demonstration of humanity’s stubbornness, survival instinct, and powerful ability to deny reality, we come to you openly begin negotiations to bring Earth into our Alien Association; it is clear that you are ready to exist amongst us. Welcome. Congratulations on your continued survival."
> The young human’s eyes begin to leak.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Carl was miserable. Under any other circumstances, he would be awestruck at the sky that stretched out before him: a black canvas washed with swirling blue and pink nebula, dwarfed only by the ringed planet that hung at its zenith. But Carl didn't even take notice as he sat sulking in a lukewarm bath of rejuvenating goo. His muscles ached, but the pain slowly faded as the goo did whatever it did to repair the torn tissue.
Next to Carl, in it's own goo-bath was Xthigrchloooo (whose nickname, Carl was relieved to learn, was Xth), a tentacled transluscent blue creature whos skin felt like smooth rubber and emitted a faint glow. Xth had no obvious orifices on its body, but Carl learned during his first night at the games that Xth ate his food by surrounding it like a white blood cell attacking a bacteria, slowly absorbing it. Xth's seven "eyes" were glowing orbs that hovered about 2 inches underneath his skin. Six of the seven eyes currently focused on Carl with what he could only imagine was pity.
"Cheer up," Xth said. "There's still one event left, and all you have to do is not be in last place. How difficult can that be?" The translator device that Carl wore in his ear was uncomfortably warm as it worked overtime to simplify Xth's burbling speech into something he could comprehend. The acclimation-handler to whom Carl had been assigned on the first day--a silica-based entity called Maeas that moved by destroying and regrowing it's body's crystalline structure--had unceremoniously shoved the translator into Carl's ear before explaining to him that the device would create a substantial amount of heat as it worked to dumb down the various alien languages into something his human brain could handle. It was all downhill from there.
"That's easy for you to say," Carl sighed. "You've placed high enough to guarantee that your planet won't be obliterated." Carl eyed the three medals that were lodged halfway into Xth's body. Xth's first place medal was made of a large black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. He also wore two 3rd place medals. These medals were similar to the first place award, but the central black disc was surrounded by three yellow discs. It wasn't until this moment that as Carl, exhausted and unable to focus on anything but the Xth's medals, realized that the medals represented atoms, with 1st place being hydrogen.
"You took 768th place in yesterday's event," Xth encouraged.
Carl rolled his eyes.
"That was pure luck. Even after the event was explained to me, I had no idea what I was doing. I jumped through a hole in a wall and landed face first in the mud."
"And you did it better than 84,000 other competitors! Clearly, though, that was an event for the Purians. They win it every cycle." Xth sank further into his goo bath with a gurgling sound that Carl's translator didn't bother with, so Carl just assumed it was a relaxed sigh. "Get some rest," Xth continued, "and don't worry yourself about tomorrow. I have a feeling your luck will change."
*How did I get here?* Carl asked himself; he meant the question figuratively *and* literally, as he had no recollection of how he had been transported from his apartment in New York to a planet in a binary star system on the other side of the Milky Way. Had his entire boring life been leading up to this moment, or was he just a random selection among the 7 billion people on earth? All he knew was that he had been selected to represent Earth--just as Xth and all of the other competitors had been chosen to stand for their own worlds--in some galactic contest of ... what? Will? Strength? Intelligence? Carl had no idea.
Carl sank into his goo bath. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt the goo become firm around his body -- the goo baths, for the aliens that used them, were also their beds. This was something that Carl was only now getting used to. Soon, though, the acrid smell of the bath faded as Carl's brain shut down for the night. He dreamed of pizza and rude cab drivers.
Carl was jolted awake by a blaring klaxon followed by an annoucement: "Competitors, please report to Event quadrant three for the final game." Pulling his arms from the now solidified goo bath, Carl rubbed his eyes and turned to say "good morning" to Xth, but Xth was gone. There was a Xth-shaped whole in his bath, but no Xth. That saddened Carl. Xth, despite being sentient Jell-O, was the only being that bothered to speak to Carl during his six days at the game. Many of the aliens he had encountered seemed to have no emotions at all, or emotions that were completely incomprehensible to Carl, but Xth was different. He seemd to understand Carl and even empathize with him. Carl admitted to himself that he was actually going to miss Xth when this was over.
Reluctantly, Carl pulled himself out of his bath. He slid himself into his competition garment, an impossibly thin unitard that seemed to have no weight. He couldn't even feel it against his skin.
A glowing red line on the ground guided Carl to the event area. He followed it to a large gray dome that rose a few hundred feet into the air. As he approached the wall of the dome, a Carl-shaped hole opened, revealing the bright interior. Next to him, a familiar shape appeared. Xth's seven orbs focused on Carl. "Goodbye and good luck, Carl. You have done your planet a great service." Xth began to slide through his own hole in the dome wall.
"Thanks, Xth, I--wait, what do you mean 'goodbye'?" Carl asked. But Xth's hole had already begun to close behind him. Carl stepped through his hole. There seemed to be some kind of invisible field over the hole, as Carl had to push his body through it. He smelled ozone and felt a tinlgling feeling as he passed through the hole.
*Maybe Xth's right,* Carl thought with a surge of confidence. *Despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing, I only have to avoid losing this event completely so save Earth. Maybe I can do this.*
Carl's body surged forward with a newly found confidence as he pushed through the finally few inches of the dome wall, popped out into the bright interior of the arena, and promptly collapsed to the ground.
The pain was unbearable. His lungs burned. Searing pane shot through the entire length of his body and seemed to occupy every cell. Carl couldn't breath. His muscles convulsed involuntarily as his mind and body tried desperately to find oxygen. His fists were balled so tightly that he could feel his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. Carl's eyes were wet with blood. He shut them tightly as the pain gave way to overwhelming fear and sadness at his failure.
A strong bolt of pain caused Carl to open his eyes. Through a green haze of the dome's atmosphere, Carl could see the faint outlines of other competitors. Many of them were motionless. Some moved about slowly inside the dome. Carl spotted Xth to his left, looking somewhat disappointed, but otherwise unharmed. Before Carl's eyes closed again, he saw Xth's glowing eyes settle on his writhing body. For a moment, Carl could have sworn that Xth's expression was one of pride or happiness. As Carl's vision faded, he closed his eyes tightly. Pinpoints of light peppered his sight as his mind reeled with visions of his family, friends and billion of other innocent people screaming as Earth exploded into a cloud of debris.
*Will they curse my name?* Carl wondered. *Will they even know I'm the one who doomed them to extinction?*
The pain in Carl's body began to subside. His muscles relaxed. He thought of Star Wars and espresso, and fresh cut grass, and koalas.
*I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.*
And Carl was dead.
In the dome, the rest of the more than 84,000 competitors wandered aimlessly, disappointed, around the inside of the dome. Hours passed.
A few more aliens collapsed and expired. Then, the dome began to open.
Several of the competitors, including Xth, approached Carl's lifeless body. A small grey rock-like being floated towards Carl. The competitors who had encircled his body parted to allow the grey being to approach him. The grey rock descended to hover inches over Carl's corpse. Small black tentacles grew from the grey rock and extended towards Carl's face. They touched his cold skin and felt along his body. Seconds later, the tentacles retracted back into the grey being's body. A small hole opened in its side, and a larger tentacle placed something on Carl's chest: a small black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. | I’ve been at this for … I don’t know. A month now? I’m trying to find a good way to explain it without sounding crazy, but honestly, I think maybe I am crazy.
Yes … I’m pretty sure I’ve totally lost my marbles. I’m getting loaded into the pod for the final event right now, and only the Buddy is keeping me from barfing everything I’ve ever eaten all over the glass stuff.
Okay, let’s start over. You know that old show from the 90’s? American Gladiators? Where lunkheads with gigantic muscles wearing leotards decorated with the ole stars and stripes would be the boogiemen as “ordinary” athletic sorts fought them with giant cotton swabs or tried knocking one another off huge monkey bar things? Also, you know the Track and Field part of the Olympics? Also, you know those bizarre Japanese shows where people cause themselves severe bodily harm trying to get through murderous obstacle courses? And like, the standard montage in every movie where someone goes through boot camp?
Take all of those things, and put them in a blender, and pour the resulting sludge down your throat, and that’s what I’m in right now. There’s more things, events that I can’t even begin to understand. I think I lost the “Deathmatch” but survived somehow, that was last week. Pretty sure I’ve won every “piss your pants” event, though. Hah. I can’t tell what they’re judging most of the time.
I forgot to add the setting. It’s like a stadium, I guess, but it’s a great big dome. It’s mostly glass. Well. Probably not glass-glass, but like, you know, glassy. See-through, and what I can see through it is different for every event, and it sometimes is just so damn beautiful I just want to stare, but usually just makes my stomach do flip-flops and my Buddy gives me some sort of anti-barf jab.
And the live studio audience is … like everything. Aliens. All sorts. Big clattery bugs and wet oozy slimeboys and fluffy smirky teeth-beasts, and I don’t even have the words for most because they don’t make sense to my head so I just sort of see this censored blur. Thank god? Thank the Buddy? Maybe.
Oh. I didn’t explain the Buddy. It snapped onto my head like a helmet my first day here, it’s like an octopus hat and it’s got little arms that hold it in place, or jab me with medicine, or force me to eat and drink when I tried to refuse that one time.
It covers most of my head, so I’m guessing it’s doing the visual filtering. It does audio filtering too; I hear every sound as it is, but I also hear translations. Things I don’t *want to hear* but it doesn’t really care. When the air doesn’t match Earth’s, which is most of the time, it also covers my mouth and nose. I don’t know what it’s called, so I call it the Buddy, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing around here interested in keeping me alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a robot or organic, but it’s squishy and warm and I’m really kind of fond of the little bugger.
Anyways, yesterday I lost the shit out of a contest which I think was a race. We were … trying to swim/run/bounce on this … lake? You know how when you mix cornstarch and water and it’s this white paste that you can squeeze with your hand into a solid and then it melts? It’s like that. Only the color isn’t nice safe white, it’s a mix of old-piss yellow and soft rosy pink and sky blue, all clumped together in random patches. And it smelled like oranges. I don’t want to talk about how it tasted. The Buddy wasn’t filtering my air for this event. I resent that, Buddy.
I managed to run on the top of it for a while ,but I gradually started to sink and once I got down to my armpits, I tried to just … not drown in bizarre orange-scented slime. Another miserable failure, just like all of the others.
The Buddy blacked me out and I woke up back in my pen. I want to call it a dorm, but it’s a pen. People—they’re people, even if they’re not human—come and gawk at me and make noises, and the Buddy translates it to stuff people say when looking at zoo animals.
So anyhow, I managed to hear the opening ceremonies, and this is why I’m terrified. If I come in last, they’re going to invade Earth and just … wipe it clean. I thought at first that I’d do OK. I mean, just don’t come in last right? But I’m pretty sure I’m last now.
I’m not in the greatest shape, but I did some soccer back in high school and I have to run around campus a lot so I managed to avoid the Freshman Fifteen and all, but … I mean, when I don’t even understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing in some of these competitions, when I don’t grasp the judging criteria at all? It’s frustrating. All I can do to keep trying.
I always figured if aliens were out there, if they got far enough along to get space travel, that they’d have their shit together, you know? That they’d be *civilized*. But these folk are just all so … I don’t know. Feral. Different values, maybe? I don’t know. But they seem to love it when I’m barbaric and violent and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Does it help or hurt my standing to shout obscenities at the crowd?
Except I can’t get my Gladiator “Are you not entertained?” moment, because I don’t win those fights. The guys with the claws and fangs win those.
So yeah, here we are, the final event, and again they haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, nothing really. I can almost feel steam coming from my ears. I’ve got the fate of the *fucking world* in my hands and they won’t even explain the rules.
Big arena. Maybe a melee deathmatch, I don’t know. Smooth stone ground. It’s not really stone. It looks like stone, and while it’s firm, it has some give to it, like foam. I’m sitting down. I’m ignoring the other competitors. It’s all I can do to not scream at the judges. Not even sure what the judges are, but I have to assume they’re watching from those little floatbots. Maybe watching through the Buddy. Deep breaths. The others can tear one another to bits.
There’s the noise that means we’re starting. I’m going to close my eyes because I don’t want to see this coming.
I don’t want to hear it either, but the Buddy’s not going to let me block my ears. Humming helps, though. I’m going to rock back and forth now, and hopefully when the noises go away I’ll open my eyes and be in a nice padded room.
Please let me be in a nice padded room.
Nobody’s swiping at me with claws. No rush of pain. The noises are quieting down. I think I’m going to come out of this psychotic break any second now. Yes. I’m going to be back on Earth in the mental ward and I don’t care. It was stress. It was work and schoolwork and not enough money and having no clue what I’m going do with my life, and all of that panic and stress and I just … put myself in something worse, so that I’d long for the terrors of the simple life on earth where all I have to worry about is poverty.
…
Shit. I just peeked and I’m Still. Fucking. Here. I don’t want this to be real. It can’t be real. I refuse to allow it to be real. I’m going to wake up in that padded room any second now.
Everyone else is still sitting around. I want them to be my fellow inmates. They’re just other crazy people locked up here with me, and they’re not aliens from other worlds.
Earth is safe. It’s not going to be razed to the bedrock by a plague of horrors.
I am not in some other solar system. I’ve never been in outer space in my life. I don’t care how realistic this has been. I can’t accept it. I deny it.
The crowd is being noisy again. That’s not a group of spectators. It’s my family trying to bring me back from my crazy spell. The Buddy isn’t some octopus hat. It’s a burly orderly trying to keep me from hurting myself.
I can put this all together in my head, and I’m trying my damndest to believe it, because being completely insane is *so* much better than being responsible for the fate of the world.
-----
> Cue primitive flat video-broadcast. Shot of chitinous bipedal Representative, rough manipulators folded, fine manipulators gesturing expansively as translation device provides basic audio communication in local dialect and projected visual language glyphs
"Citizens of the Planet known as Earth, congratulations. One amongst you was the victor in the Galaxy Games, and so your humble home is safe. We return him to you unharmed."
> Focus shot of a young human, squinting in the sunlight, standing beside the Representative. Human seems shaky and possibly ill.
"After his remarkable demonstration of humanity’s stubbornness, survival instinct, and powerful ability to deny reality, we come to you openly begin negotiations to bring Earth into our Alien Association; it is clear that you are ready to exist amongst us. Welcome. Congratulations on your continued survival."
> The young human’s eyes begin to leak.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The intergalactic stadium fell silent as the leader board displayed the score. Its characters were completely foreign to me. I leaned over to ywoarg and asked for clarification. Despite my special helmet designed to translate everything I hear into a language I can understand he seemed to be the only one willing to talk to me.
"It is a list of the scores, human. You are not doing so well. It seems as though you may not have a planet to go back to, though you are still within your potential to save it, if you place first in this last event."
"What's the last event?" As if in answer to my question the board buzzed and the wall of yellow characters was replaced by many fewer, yet larger, green characters. The crowd cheered. I saw one creature at the end of the bench we all sat on start leaping up and down, another began smacking the bench with one of his many appendages. Ywoarg put what I could only assume was his head in what I could only assume was his hands.
"...." Nothing but static came through my helmet. I gave Ywoarg a quizzical look, at this point he had figured out that meant I had no idea what he was saying.
"It is like... complaining, but not just complaining, complaining with no purpose, complaining about things you cannot change, and of course complaining about things that are irrelevant."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are we supposed to complain about? How do you judge a complaint it not by how much the subject of the complaint deserves to be complained about? You know, this whole god damn contest has been rigged against be from the start, you transport me here and ask me to compete against beings who are so physically advanced that some of them don't even need to breathe?" At this point I was yelling as loud as I could.
"I mean I'm no single cell organism like that piece of rice thing over there, but why the Hell even ask me to compete if I have no fucking chance of saving my planet, do you all just like watching lesser beings squirm? Have you all just evolved out of your consciences? You know what, go ahead and destroy my planet, I'm not performing for you sick fucks anymore, I'm not a dancing monkey. And who the fuck destroys a planet? Who do you think you are?" At some point during my tirade I had stood up. Upon looking at the other contestants and crowd behind me I realized everyone was watching me intently. I promptly sat down and tried to hide my head in my knees. No less than 2 seconds later the crowd erupted in cheering. Even other contestants were clapping (I think) for me. I swear I even saw one wipe away a tear.
This editor aucks on my phone will finish after work | I’ve been at this for … I don’t know. A month now? I’m trying to find a good way to explain it without sounding crazy, but honestly, I think maybe I am crazy.
Yes … I’m pretty sure I’ve totally lost my marbles. I’m getting loaded into the pod for the final event right now, and only the Buddy is keeping me from barfing everything I’ve ever eaten all over the glass stuff.
Okay, let’s start over. You know that old show from the 90’s? American Gladiators? Where lunkheads with gigantic muscles wearing leotards decorated with the ole stars and stripes would be the boogiemen as “ordinary” athletic sorts fought them with giant cotton swabs or tried knocking one another off huge monkey bar things? Also, you know the Track and Field part of the Olympics? Also, you know those bizarre Japanese shows where people cause themselves severe bodily harm trying to get through murderous obstacle courses? And like, the standard montage in every movie where someone goes through boot camp?
Take all of those things, and put them in a blender, and pour the resulting sludge down your throat, and that’s what I’m in right now. There’s more things, events that I can’t even begin to understand. I think I lost the “Deathmatch” but survived somehow, that was last week. Pretty sure I’ve won every “piss your pants” event, though. Hah. I can’t tell what they’re judging most of the time.
I forgot to add the setting. It’s like a stadium, I guess, but it’s a great big dome. It’s mostly glass. Well. Probably not glass-glass, but like, you know, glassy. See-through, and what I can see through it is different for every event, and it sometimes is just so damn beautiful I just want to stare, but usually just makes my stomach do flip-flops and my Buddy gives me some sort of anti-barf jab.
And the live studio audience is … like everything. Aliens. All sorts. Big clattery bugs and wet oozy slimeboys and fluffy smirky teeth-beasts, and I don’t even have the words for most because they don’t make sense to my head so I just sort of see this censored blur. Thank god? Thank the Buddy? Maybe.
Oh. I didn’t explain the Buddy. It snapped onto my head like a helmet my first day here, it’s like an octopus hat and it’s got little arms that hold it in place, or jab me with medicine, or force me to eat and drink when I tried to refuse that one time.
It covers most of my head, so I’m guessing it’s doing the visual filtering. It does audio filtering too; I hear every sound as it is, but I also hear translations. Things I don’t *want to hear* but it doesn’t really care. When the air doesn’t match Earth’s, which is most of the time, it also covers my mouth and nose. I don’t know what it’s called, so I call it the Buddy, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing around here interested in keeping me alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a robot or organic, but it’s squishy and warm and I’m really kind of fond of the little bugger.
Anyways, yesterday I lost the shit out of a contest which I think was a race. We were … trying to swim/run/bounce on this … lake? You know how when you mix cornstarch and water and it’s this white paste that you can squeeze with your hand into a solid and then it melts? It’s like that. Only the color isn’t nice safe white, it’s a mix of old-piss yellow and soft rosy pink and sky blue, all clumped together in random patches. And it smelled like oranges. I don’t want to talk about how it tasted. The Buddy wasn’t filtering my air for this event. I resent that, Buddy.
I managed to run on the top of it for a while ,but I gradually started to sink and once I got down to my armpits, I tried to just … not drown in bizarre orange-scented slime. Another miserable failure, just like all of the others.
The Buddy blacked me out and I woke up back in my pen. I want to call it a dorm, but it’s a pen. People—they’re people, even if they’re not human—come and gawk at me and make noises, and the Buddy translates it to stuff people say when looking at zoo animals.
So anyhow, I managed to hear the opening ceremonies, and this is why I’m terrified. If I come in last, they’re going to invade Earth and just … wipe it clean. I thought at first that I’d do OK. I mean, just don’t come in last right? But I’m pretty sure I’m last now.
I’m not in the greatest shape, but I did some soccer back in high school and I have to run around campus a lot so I managed to avoid the Freshman Fifteen and all, but … I mean, when I don’t even understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing in some of these competitions, when I don’t grasp the judging criteria at all? It’s frustrating. All I can do to keep trying.
I always figured if aliens were out there, if they got far enough along to get space travel, that they’d have their shit together, you know? That they’d be *civilized*. But these folk are just all so … I don’t know. Feral. Different values, maybe? I don’t know. But they seem to love it when I’m barbaric and violent and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Does it help or hurt my standing to shout obscenities at the crowd?
Except I can’t get my Gladiator “Are you not entertained?” moment, because I don’t win those fights. The guys with the claws and fangs win those.
So yeah, here we are, the final event, and again they haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, nothing really. I can almost feel steam coming from my ears. I’ve got the fate of the *fucking world* in my hands and they won’t even explain the rules.
Big arena. Maybe a melee deathmatch, I don’t know. Smooth stone ground. It’s not really stone. It looks like stone, and while it’s firm, it has some give to it, like foam. I’m sitting down. I’m ignoring the other competitors. It’s all I can do to not scream at the judges. Not even sure what the judges are, but I have to assume they’re watching from those little floatbots. Maybe watching through the Buddy. Deep breaths. The others can tear one another to bits.
There’s the noise that means we’re starting. I’m going to close my eyes because I don’t want to see this coming.
I don’t want to hear it either, but the Buddy’s not going to let me block my ears. Humming helps, though. I’m going to rock back and forth now, and hopefully when the noises go away I’ll open my eyes and be in a nice padded room.
Please let me be in a nice padded room.
Nobody’s swiping at me with claws. No rush of pain. The noises are quieting down. I think I’m going to come out of this psychotic break any second now. Yes. I’m going to be back on Earth in the mental ward and I don’t care. It was stress. It was work and schoolwork and not enough money and having no clue what I’m going do with my life, and all of that panic and stress and I just … put myself in something worse, so that I’d long for the terrors of the simple life on earth where all I have to worry about is poverty.
…
Shit. I just peeked and I’m Still. Fucking. Here. I don’t want this to be real. It can’t be real. I refuse to allow it to be real. I’m going to wake up in that padded room any second now.
Everyone else is still sitting around. I want them to be my fellow inmates. They’re just other crazy people locked up here with me, and they’re not aliens from other worlds.
Earth is safe. It’s not going to be razed to the bedrock by a plague of horrors.
I am not in some other solar system. I’ve never been in outer space in my life. I don’t care how realistic this has been. I can’t accept it. I deny it.
The crowd is being noisy again. That’s not a group of spectators. It’s my family trying to bring me back from my crazy spell. The Buddy isn’t some octopus hat. It’s a burly orderly trying to keep me from hurting myself.
I can put this all together in my head, and I’m trying my damndest to believe it, because being completely insane is *so* much better than being responsible for the fate of the world.
-----
> Cue primitive flat video-broadcast. Shot of chitinous bipedal Representative, rough manipulators folded, fine manipulators gesturing expansively as translation device provides basic audio communication in local dialect and projected visual language glyphs
"Citizens of the Planet known as Earth, congratulations. One amongst you was the victor in the Galaxy Games, and so your humble home is safe. We return him to you unharmed."
> Focus shot of a young human, squinting in the sunlight, standing beside the Representative. Human seems shaky and possibly ill.
"After his remarkable demonstration of humanity’s stubbornness, survival instinct, and powerful ability to deny reality, we come to you openly begin negotiations to bring Earth into our Alien Association; it is clear that you are ready to exist amongst us. Welcome. Congratulations on your continued survival."
> The young human’s eyes begin to leak.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | I’ve been at this for … I don’t know. A month now? I’m trying to find a good way to explain it without sounding crazy, but honestly, I think maybe I am crazy.
Yes … I’m pretty sure I’ve totally lost my marbles. I’m getting loaded into the pod for the final event right now, and only the Buddy is keeping me from barfing everything I’ve ever eaten all over the glass stuff.
Okay, let’s start over. You know that old show from the 90’s? American Gladiators? Where lunkheads with gigantic muscles wearing leotards decorated with the ole stars and stripes would be the boogiemen as “ordinary” athletic sorts fought them with giant cotton swabs or tried knocking one another off huge monkey bar things? Also, you know the Track and Field part of the Olympics? Also, you know those bizarre Japanese shows where people cause themselves severe bodily harm trying to get through murderous obstacle courses? And like, the standard montage in every movie where someone goes through boot camp?
Take all of those things, and put them in a blender, and pour the resulting sludge down your throat, and that’s what I’m in right now. There’s more things, events that I can’t even begin to understand. I think I lost the “Deathmatch” but survived somehow, that was last week. Pretty sure I’ve won every “piss your pants” event, though. Hah. I can’t tell what they’re judging most of the time.
I forgot to add the setting. It’s like a stadium, I guess, but it’s a great big dome. It’s mostly glass. Well. Probably not glass-glass, but like, you know, glassy. See-through, and what I can see through it is different for every event, and it sometimes is just so damn beautiful I just want to stare, but usually just makes my stomach do flip-flops and my Buddy gives me some sort of anti-barf jab.
And the live studio audience is … like everything. Aliens. All sorts. Big clattery bugs and wet oozy slimeboys and fluffy smirky teeth-beasts, and I don’t even have the words for most because they don’t make sense to my head so I just sort of see this censored blur. Thank god? Thank the Buddy? Maybe.
Oh. I didn’t explain the Buddy. It snapped onto my head like a helmet my first day here, it’s like an octopus hat and it’s got little arms that hold it in place, or jab me with medicine, or force me to eat and drink when I tried to refuse that one time.
It covers most of my head, so I’m guessing it’s doing the visual filtering. It does audio filtering too; I hear every sound as it is, but I also hear translations. Things I don’t *want to hear* but it doesn’t really care. When the air doesn’t match Earth’s, which is most of the time, it also covers my mouth and nose. I don’t know what it’s called, so I call it the Buddy, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing around here interested in keeping me alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a robot or organic, but it’s squishy and warm and I’m really kind of fond of the little bugger.
Anyways, yesterday I lost the shit out of a contest which I think was a race. We were … trying to swim/run/bounce on this … lake? You know how when you mix cornstarch and water and it’s this white paste that you can squeeze with your hand into a solid and then it melts? It’s like that. Only the color isn’t nice safe white, it’s a mix of old-piss yellow and soft rosy pink and sky blue, all clumped together in random patches. And it smelled like oranges. I don’t want to talk about how it tasted. The Buddy wasn’t filtering my air for this event. I resent that, Buddy.
I managed to run on the top of it for a while ,but I gradually started to sink and once I got down to my armpits, I tried to just … not drown in bizarre orange-scented slime. Another miserable failure, just like all of the others.
The Buddy blacked me out and I woke up back in my pen. I want to call it a dorm, but it’s a pen. People—they’re people, even if they’re not human—come and gawk at me and make noises, and the Buddy translates it to stuff people say when looking at zoo animals.
So anyhow, I managed to hear the opening ceremonies, and this is why I’m terrified. If I come in last, they’re going to invade Earth and just … wipe it clean. I thought at first that I’d do OK. I mean, just don’t come in last right? But I’m pretty sure I’m last now.
I’m not in the greatest shape, but I did some soccer back in high school and I have to run around campus a lot so I managed to avoid the Freshman Fifteen and all, but … I mean, when I don’t even understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing in some of these competitions, when I don’t grasp the judging criteria at all? It’s frustrating. All I can do to keep trying.
I always figured if aliens were out there, if they got far enough along to get space travel, that they’d have their shit together, you know? That they’d be *civilized*. But these folk are just all so … I don’t know. Feral. Different values, maybe? I don’t know. But they seem to love it when I’m barbaric and violent and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Does it help or hurt my standing to shout obscenities at the crowd?
Except I can’t get my Gladiator “Are you not entertained?” moment, because I don’t win those fights. The guys with the claws and fangs win those.
So yeah, here we are, the final event, and again they haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, nothing really. I can almost feel steam coming from my ears. I’ve got the fate of the *fucking world* in my hands and they won’t even explain the rules.
Big arena. Maybe a melee deathmatch, I don’t know. Smooth stone ground. It’s not really stone. It looks like stone, and while it’s firm, it has some give to it, like foam. I’m sitting down. I’m ignoring the other competitors. It’s all I can do to not scream at the judges. Not even sure what the judges are, but I have to assume they’re watching from those little floatbots. Maybe watching through the Buddy. Deep breaths. The others can tear one another to bits.
There’s the noise that means we’re starting. I’m going to close my eyes because I don’t want to see this coming.
I don’t want to hear it either, but the Buddy’s not going to let me block my ears. Humming helps, though. I’m going to rock back and forth now, and hopefully when the noises go away I’ll open my eyes and be in a nice padded room.
Please let me be in a nice padded room.
Nobody’s swiping at me with claws. No rush of pain. The noises are quieting down. I think I’m going to come out of this psychotic break any second now. Yes. I’m going to be back on Earth in the mental ward and I don’t care. It was stress. It was work and schoolwork and not enough money and having no clue what I’m going do with my life, and all of that panic and stress and I just … put myself in something worse, so that I’d long for the terrors of the simple life on earth where all I have to worry about is poverty.
…
Shit. I just peeked and I’m Still. Fucking. Here. I don’t want this to be real. It can’t be real. I refuse to allow it to be real. I’m going to wake up in that padded room any second now.
Everyone else is still sitting around. I want them to be my fellow inmates. They’re just other crazy people locked up here with me, and they’re not aliens from other worlds.
Earth is safe. It’s not going to be razed to the bedrock by a plague of horrors.
I am not in some other solar system. I’ve never been in outer space in my life. I don’t care how realistic this has been. I can’t accept it. I deny it.
The crowd is being noisy again. That’s not a group of spectators. It’s my family trying to bring me back from my crazy spell. The Buddy isn’t some octopus hat. It’s a burly orderly trying to keep me from hurting myself.
I can put this all together in my head, and I’m trying my damndest to believe it, because being completely insane is *so* much better than being responsible for the fate of the world.
-----
> Cue primitive flat video-broadcast. Shot of chitinous bipedal Representative, rough manipulators folded, fine manipulators gesturing expansively as translation device provides basic audio communication in local dialect and projected visual language glyphs
"Citizens of the Planet known as Earth, congratulations. One amongst you was the victor in the Galaxy Games, and so your humble home is safe. We return him to you unharmed."
> Focus shot of a young human, squinting in the sunlight, standing beside the Representative. Human seems shaky and possibly ill.
"After his remarkable demonstration of humanity’s stubbornness, survival instinct, and powerful ability to deny reality, we come to you openly begin negotiations to bring Earth into our Alien Association; it is clear that you are ready to exist amongst us. Welcome. Congratulations on your continued survival."
> The young human’s eyes begin to leak.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | I’ve been at this for … I don’t know. A month now? I’m trying to find a good way to explain it without sounding crazy, but honestly, I think maybe I am crazy.
Yes … I’m pretty sure I’ve totally lost my marbles. I’m getting loaded into the pod for the final event right now, and only the Buddy is keeping me from barfing everything I’ve ever eaten all over the glass stuff.
Okay, let’s start over. You know that old show from the 90’s? American Gladiators? Where lunkheads with gigantic muscles wearing leotards decorated with the ole stars and stripes would be the boogiemen as “ordinary” athletic sorts fought them with giant cotton swabs or tried knocking one another off huge monkey bar things? Also, you know the Track and Field part of the Olympics? Also, you know those bizarre Japanese shows where people cause themselves severe bodily harm trying to get through murderous obstacle courses? And like, the standard montage in every movie where someone goes through boot camp?
Take all of those things, and put them in a blender, and pour the resulting sludge down your throat, and that’s what I’m in right now. There’s more things, events that I can’t even begin to understand. I think I lost the “Deathmatch” but survived somehow, that was last week. Pretty sure I’ve won every “piss your pants” event, though. Hah. I can’t tell what they’re judging most of the time.
I forgot to add the setting. It’s like a stadium, I guess, but it’s a great big dome. It’s mostly glass. Well. Probably not glass-glass, but like, you know, glassy. See-through, and what I can see through it is different for every event, and it sometimes is just so damn beautiful I just want to stare, but usually just makes my stomach do flip-flops and my Buddy gives me some sort of anti-barf jab.
And the live studio audience is … like everything. Aliens. All sorts. Big clattery bugs and wet oozy slimeboys and fluffy smirky teeth-beasts, and I don’t even have the words for most because they don’t make sense to my head so I just sort of see this censored blur. Thank god? Thank the Buddy? Maybe.
Oh. I didn’t explain the Buddy. It snapped onto my head like a helmet my first day here, it’s like an octopus hat and it’s got little arms that hold it in place, or jab me with medicine, or force me to eat and drink when I tried to refuse that one time.
It covers most of my head, so I’m guessing it’s doing the visual filtering. It does audio filtering too; I hear every sound as it is, but I also hear translations. Things I don’t *want to hear* but it doesn’t really care. When the air doesn’t match Earth’s, which is most of the time, it also covers my mouth and nose. I don’t know what it’s called, so I call it the Buddy, because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing around here interested in keeping me alive.
I’m not sure if it’s a robot or organic, but it’s squishy and warm and I’m really kind of fond of the little bugger.
Anyways, yesterday I lost the shit out of a contest which I think was a race. We were … trying to swim/run/bounce on this … lake? You know how when you mix cornstarch and water and it’s this white paste that you can squeeze with your hand into a solid and then it melts? It’s like that. Only the color isn’t nice safe white, it’s a mix of old-piss yellow and soft rosy pink and sky blue, all clumped together in random patches. And it smelled like oranges. I don’t want to talk about how it tasted. The Buddy wasn’t filtering my air for this event. I resent that, Buddy.
I managed to run on the top of it for a while ,but I gradually started to sink and once I got down to my armpits, I tried to just … not drown in bizarre orange-scented slime. Another miserable failure, just like all of the others.
The Buddy blacked me out and I woke up back in my pen. I want to call it a dorm, but it’s a pen. People—they’re people, even if they’re not human—come and gawk at me and make noises, and the Buddy translates it to stuff people say when looking at zoo animals.
So anyhow, I managed to hear the opening ceremonies, and this is why I’m terrified. If I come in last, they’re going to invade Earth and just … wipe it clean. I thought at first that I’d do OK. I mean, just don’t come in last right? But I’m pretty sure I’m last now.
I’m not in the greatest shape, but I did some soccer back in high school and I have to run around campus a lot so I managed to avoid the Freshman Fifteen and all, but … I mean, when I don’t even understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing in some of these competitions, when I don’t grasp the judging criteria at all? It’s frustrating. All I can do to keep trying.
I always figured if aliens were out there, if they got far enough along to get space travel, that they’d have their shit together, you know? That they’d be *civilized*. But these folk are just all so … I don’t know. Feral. Different values, maybe? I don’t know. But they seem to love it when I’m barbaric and violent and I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. Does it help or hurt my standing to shout obscenities at the crowd?
Except I can’t get my Gladiator “Are you not entertained?” moment, because I don’t win those fights. The guys with the claws and fangs win those.
So yeah, here we are, the final event, and again they haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, nothing really. I can almost feel steam coming from my ears. I’ve got the fate of the *fucking world* in my hands and they won’t even explain the rules.
Big arena. Maybe a melee deathmatch, I don’t know. Smooth stone ground. It’s not really stone. It looks like stone, and while it’s firm, it has some give to it, like foam. I’m sitting down. I’m ignoring the other competitors. It’s all I can do to not scream at the judges. Not even sure what the judges are, but I have to assume they’re watching from those little floatbots. Maybe watching through the Buddy. Deep breaths. The others can tear one another to bits.
There’s the noise that means we’re starting. I’m going to close my eyes because I don’t want to see this coming.
I don’t want to hear it either, but the Buddy’s not going to let me block my ears. Humming helps, though. I’m going to rock back and forth now, and hopefully when the noises go away I’ll open my eyes and be in a nice padded room.
Please let me be in a nice padded room.
Nobody’s swiping at me with claws. No rush of pain. The noises are quieting down. I think I’m going to come out of this psychotic break any second now. Yes. I’m going to be back on Earth in the mental ward and I don’t care. It was stress. It was work and schoolwork and not enough money and having no clue what I’m going do with my life, and all of that panic and stress and I just … put myself in something worse, so that I’d long for the terrors of the simple life on earth where all I have to worry about is poverty.
…
Shit. I just peeked and I’m Still. Fucking. Here. I don’t want this to be real. It can’t be real. I refuse to allow it to be real. I’m going to wake up in that padded room any second now.
Everyone else is still sitting around. I want them to be my fellow inmates. They’re just other crazy people locked up here with me, and they’re not aliens from other worlds.
Earth is safe. It’s not going to be razed to the bedrock by a plague of horrors.
I am not in some other solar system. I’ve never been in outer space in my life. I don’t care how realistic this has been. I can’t accept it. I deny it.
The crowd is being noisy again. That’s not a group of spectators. It’s my family trying to bring me back from my crazy spell. The Buddy isn’t some octopus hat. It’s a burly orderly trying to keep me from hurting myself.
I can put this all together in my head, and I’m trying my damndest to believe it, because being completely insane is *so* much better than being responsible for the fate of the world.
-----
> Cue primitive flat video-broadcast. Shot of chitinous bipedal Representative, rough manipulators folded, fine manipulators gesturing expansively as translation device provides basic audio communication in local dialect and projected visual language glyphs
"Citizens of the Planet known as Earth, congratulations. One amongst you was the victor in the Galaxy Games, and so your humble home is safe. We return him to you unharmed."
> Focus shot of a young human, squinting in the sunlight, standing beside the Representative. Human seems shaky and possibly ill.
"After his remarkable demonstration of humanity’s stubbornness, survival instinct, and powerful ability to deny reality, we come to you openly begin negotiations to bring Earth into our Alien Association; it is clear that you are ready to exist amongst us. Welcome. Congratulations on your continued survival."
> The young human’s eyes begin to leak.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | My muscles ache. The lactic acid stings my legs and I cringe as I drape my feet off the top bunk trying to open my eyes. Its still dark outside, although, the light hasn't seemed to change much since I arrived a week ago. The sunlight here feels different, heavier and it adds to the difficulty I've faced at each of these strange events. I'm not sure I can call it sunlight though, more likely its light from some solar analog, like Delta Pavonis. They never told me which one but I know it’s not the sun. The sun has a sweet burn to it. The desire to stare into it feels so strong but the second you do you are reminded why you shouldn't. I miss that kind sentiment from the sun. The relationship it shares with every living thing on Earth and its rotation of energy from plant to animal to human, never expecting anything in return, all the while staying in perfect symbiosis. I used to marvel at our selfishness to deceive the sun of its power. To steal from it to move our vehicles and warm our homes. The sun gave us life 1 billion years ago, and we bestowed upon it a bait and switch.
Here, things are different than they are on Earth. No one speaks to me. I’m sure that they understand me but they really don’t care. It’s not like we were ever real contenders in this arena. We constantly use our creations to compensate for our fragile, deteriorating bodies, and tell ourselves the story that everything will be just fine. From the beginning I knew we must have been chosen out of some political desire to finally rid the galaxy of its pestilence, but at the same time I had to question why I was chosen. If their desire was to eliminate the Earth from planetary suspension, why would they choose someone like me?
I’ve been made fully aware of the consequences of losing these games, but it has not changed the outcome. Despite my greatest efforts I have fallen short over and over again and sit so far into last place that I’m not sure of our fate. Call it fatigue or call it stress, but I’m not sure that there is hope for us. Alas, I can’t give up.
There is a bit of movement outside my cell. I hear a foreign voice speaking in a deep muffled tone. Sounds like Russian to me, but I’m disappointed that it is not. They’re talking about me though, I can tell. Their shadows land in broken pieces on the floor of my cell and they dance back and forth. I hear my cell open and the two guards enter the room. I look them dead in the eyes as I was instructed to do when I first arrived. They don’t like it when you look away. They don’t trust most species outside of this planet, but they certainly don’t trust humans. They point at a uniform that they have brought to me and motion for me to put it on.
“Does it fit?” The first guard asks in deep monotone.
It’s a truly gaudy piece. The Earthling uniform is covered in the names of the sponsors that shipped me here. Exxon, Royal Dutch Shell, China National Petroleum, Sinopec Group, all compete for space on my skin tight suit. To top it off, a Wal-Mart swim cap with its smiling yellow circle sits on my shaved head. I look into the mirror and laugh to myself. I’m quite a sight.
“It fits fine.” It doesn’t, but I know that I have no other choice.
The guards escort me down the hall to the waiting area before the arena doors. I know that today will be my last chance to avoid being the sole source of the demise of my planet, and I know that the universe, much less the world, will be watching, thanks to AT&T’s U-verse sponsorship. A camera hovers in my face with instructions to look distant and cold. They have so far done a great job of painting me as the bad guy, the bane of planetary existence. It doesn’t take much for me to wipe my face of expression. I’m exhausted and have grown weary of this routine.
“Today’s final event will be a special one.”
The announcer echoes throughout the massive arena holding millions from the surrounding planets. His voice is met with a grumbling excitement.
“To commemorate the 100th game of which the Earthlings participate. He shall choose the game.”
Visible fear comes across my face and the camera lights up with instructions.
*Wipe the sweat from your brow. Look into the camera and say “The Game of Lies”*
I am struck with nausea. I’m not sure what this means, but the hovering camera begins to shake and point the end of its Gatling at me.
I yell out, “For the final game, Earth chooses, “The Game of Lies”
Gasps come from around the vibrating arena. The display in front of me flashes:
*“Begin!”*
I stammer at first, not sure what this means. I do as instructed.
“As an Earthling I am given certain privileges... I am born into a society that cares so deeply for one another that we deliver each other from the streets to sanctuary without a second thought. We do not war with one another, because we understand that while there are causes worth dying for, nothing is worth killing for. We provide for those who cannot provide for themselves out of compassion for one another. We are not like you. We do not subject those lesser than us to torture and foreboding, because we understand that we all suffer the same fate. What I do to my brother, I have done to myself. So we live in peace. By living in this way we become strong. The strength does not come from our material form, but a place deeper than the likes of you could imagine. As I have demonstrated to all of you here, I am determined to win, not for fame, but to save my own race. When asked to leap across your greatest Canyon, I did so without hesitation. I am fearless. When sprinting against your beasts of the longest legs, I was victorious and did not stop for breath for I am not easily winded. When hurling your stones, I lifted mine above your sky for I am the strongest that has stepped foot in your arena. And when I awoke, I was well rested and had dreamt only of the solitude of the cell in which I was placed, for I do not want more than I am given. So for these things, I will be victorious. For these things, my planet will be spared.”
The crowd was silent.
The camera in front of my face displayed no message and I was still.
The screen in the center of the arena lit up.
*“100 points to the Earthling for the Game of Lies”*
My name moved from the bottom of the rankings into the Top 100 and the display of my spinning planet disappeared into darkness, safe from the aim of their destructive weapon.
I was not sure how, or why, this event was chosen. Or how the words were pulled from my mouth at a whim, but my planet was safe from harm and I was allowed to leave, a hero to my forever-damned planet.
| I woke up with a nasty headache. Probably drank too much last night, like every saturday. Not that I remember much of last night. Heck, its been a while since I managed to recover 8 hours of memories. I know I'm drinking too much. Like way to much. But I dont really care. It helps me forget. Helps me get over it. Helps me think it might have all just been a dream, or rather a nightmare.
It was a Sunday morning, much like this very Sunday morning. I remember the hangover, but it was nothing compared to what I have now. It was your normal, casual hangover from hanging out with friends. Friends. Been a while since I've seen any of them. Probably too busy with college and stuff, or just not wanting to hang out with a drunk like me. Or maybe we hung out last night? Can't remember.
Anyways, I was telling a story here so better get on with it before the chili con carne from last night finds its way back up. Or was it pizza? So there I was slowly trying to pull myself together to get up and I notice theres like bright light all over the place. Naturally I just squeeze my eyes tight and wait for the light to dim down. Stupid hangover. I should really learn to stop drinking when I'm drunk. I wait for like 30 seconds, or it could have been 30 minutes, its all a bit blurry you know. The light doesn't dim down. I squint and see I'm not where I'm supposed to be. Shit. Not again. Did I drink that much? Last month I woke up in some strange girls apartment. Barely managed to sneak out before she woke up. I look around and try to asses the situation and hope to not see some big hairy dude lying next to me.
I turn around. Theres a big hairy dude drooling on a pillow. Fuck. Just fuck. What the fuck did I do last night? Like seriously what the fuck happened? Priority change. The shock made me sober up a bit. I need to get out of here. Fast. As I carefully sweep away the sheets to not wake up the sasquatch next to me, I try and look for the exit. Then I notice I'm inside something this is best described as a glass cubicle sitting in the middle of nowhere. By then I'm convinced I'm not really awake and still tripping my balls off. I must have been convinced to try some shrooms or something, probably by Johnny. Jup, sounds like something he would get me to do. Lets give drunken Jim some shrooms so he'll totally be out of this world! Next time I see him I'll ...
"And it seems that earthling number 2 will be the chosen one!" blasts through my head, and suddenly the box is no longer in the middle of nowhere. I am now surrounded by a massive arena filled with thousands of ...well thousands of something. Its not humans, its aliens. Like the whole star wars cast at least. Whatever Johnny gave me its some serious drugstuff. On the bed fatty finally woke up. "Huh? What?" is all he could muster before metal clamps shout out of the bed and anchored him to it.
"Greeting Earthling, you have been chosen to compete for your planet in the final event of the interplanetary olympics. As you are currently in last place, the fate of your planet depends on you," said the same voice again, pounding through my hangover like a thousands sledgehammers. The crowd roared. "Wait what?" I stuttered. Since this was all my imagination, might as well play along and have a good time. Maybe my drug induced fantasy might manage to bring in the cute girl at the bar from last night, so...
"Ha, the human doesn't seem to understand. By the name of Zorg, I knew these humans were stupid, but this stupid?" spoke the announcer, followed by some weird gargling from the crowd. "The last placed planet of the interplanetary games will be destroyed as punishment for your terrible performance. The first placed planet gets too push the button as a reward, along with eternal glory of course. Seen as your fellow earthlings have all performed terribly, earth is currently placed last. But, not all hope is lost, as the planet of Xarxan has also been rather terrible this year. You two must compete in a final event to decide who will be last."
This was a lot to take in, even if your head doesn't feel like it has a thousand horses stampeding inside it. Apparently I was at some sort of contest, and if I lost these aliens would destroy earth. I gotta remember this so I can tell Johnny what he put me through. I'll forcefeed him some of his shrooms next time.
I also noticed a similar glass cubicle to my left, with a similar bed inside and two aliens. Can't really describe them, other than 'tentacly' theres not really a word that fits them. But one of them was clamped to the bed like my fat friend, and the second one was standing next to the bed just like me.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The intergalactic stadium fell silent as the leader board displayed the score. Its characters were completely foreign to me. I leaned over to ywoarg and asked for clarification. Despite my special helmet designed to translate everything I hear into a language I can understand he seemed to be the only one willing to talk to me.
"It is a list of the scores, human. You are not doing so well. It seems as though you may not have a planet to go back to, though you are still within your potential to save it, if you place first in this last event."
"What's the last event?" As if in answer to my question the board buzzed and the wall of yellow characters was replaced by many fewer, yet larger, green characters. The crowd cheered. I saw one creature at the end of the bench we all sat on start leaping up and down, another began smacking the bench with one of his many appendages. Ywoarg put what I could only assume was his head in what I could only assume was his hands.
"...." Nothing but static came through my helmet. I gave Ywoarg a quizzical look, at this point he had figured out that meant I had no idea what he was saying.
"It is like... complaining, but not just complaining, complaining with no purpose, complaining about things you cannot change, and of course complaining about things that are irrelevant."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are we supposed to complain about? How do you judge a complaint it not by how much the subject of the complaint deserves to be complained about? You know, this whole god damn contest has been rigged against be from the start, you transport me here and ask me to compete against beings who are so physically advanced that some of them don't even need to breathe?" At this point I was yelling as loud as I could.
"I mean I'm no single cell organism like that piece of rice thing over there, but why the Hell even ask me to compete if I have no fucking chance of saving my planet, do you all just like watching lesser beings squirm? Have you all just evolved out of your consciences? You know what, go ahead and destroy my planet, I'm not performing for you sick fucks anymore, I'm not a dancing monkey. And who the fuck destroys a planet? Who do you think you are?" At some point during my tirade I had stood up. Upon looking at the other contestants and crowd behind me I realized everyone was watching me intently. I promptly sat down and tried to hide my head in my knees. No less than 2 seconds later the crowd erupted in cheering. Even other contestants were clapping (I think) for me. I swear I even saw one wipe away a tear.
This editor aucks on my phone will finish after work | I woke up with a nasty headache. Probably drank too much last night, like every saturday. Not that I remember much of last night. Heck, its been a while since I managed to recover 8 hours of memories. I know I'm drinking too much. Like way to much. But I dont really care. It helps me forget. Helps me get over it. Helps me think it might have all just been a dream, or rather a nightmare.
It was a Sunday morning, much like this very Sunday morning. I remember the hangover, but it was nothing compared to what I have now. It was your normal, casual hangover from hanging out with friends. Friends. Been a while since I've seen any of them. Probably too busy with college and stuff, or just not wanting to hang out with a drunk like me. Or maybe we hung out last night? Can't remember.
Anyways, I was telling a story here so better get on with it before the chili con carne from last night finds its way back up. Or was it pizza? So there I was slowly trying to pull myself together to get up and I notice theres like bright light all over the place. Naturally I just squeeze my eyes tight and wait for the light to dim down. Stupid hangover. I should really learn to stop drinking when I'm drunk. I wait for like 30 seconds, or it could have been 30 minutes, its all a bit blurry you know. The light doesn't dim down. I squint and see I'm not where I'm supposed to be. Shit. Not again. Did I drink that much? Last month I woke up in some strange girls apartment. Barely managed to sneak out before she woke up. I look around and try to asses the situation and hope to not see some big hairy dude lying next to me.
I turn around. Theres a big hairy dude drooling on a pillow. Fuck. Just fuck. What the fuck did I do last night? Like seriously what the fuck happened? Priority change. The shock made me sober up a bit. I need to get out of here. Fast. As I carefully sweep away the sheets to not wake up the sasquatch next to me, I try and look for the exit. Then I notice I'm inside something this is best described as a glass cubicle sitting in the middle of nowhere. By then I'm convinced I'm not really awake and still tripping my balls off. I must have been convinced to try some shrooms or something, probably by Johnny. Jup, sounds like something he would get me to do. Lets give drunken Jim some shrooms so he'll totally be out of this world! Next time I see him I'll ...
"And it seems that earthling number 2 will be the chosen one!" blasts through my head, and suddenly the box is no longer in the middle of nowhere. I am now surrounded by a massive arena filled with thousands of ...well thousands of something. Its not humans, its aliens. Like the whole star wars cast at least. Whatever Johnny gave me its some serious drugstuff. On the bed fatty finally woke up. "Huh? What?" is all he could muster before metal clamps shout out of the bed and anchored him to it.
"Greeting Earthling, you have been chosen to compete for your planet in the final event of the interplanetary olympics. As you are currently in last place, the fate of your planet depends on you," said the same voice again, pounding through my hangover like a thousands sledgehammers. The crowd roared. "Wait what?" I stuttered. Since this was all my imagination, might as well play along and have a good time. Maybe my drug induced fantasy might manage to bring in the cute girl at the bar from last night, so...
"Ha, the human doesn't seem to understand. By the name of Zorg, I knew these humans were stupid, but this stupid?" spoke the announcer, followed by some weird gargling from the crowd. "The last placed planet of the interplanetary games will be destroyed as punishment for your terrible performance. The first placed planet gets too push the button as a reward, along with eternal glory of course. Seen as your fellow earthlings have all performed terribly, earth is currently placed last. But, not all hope is lost, as the planet of Xarxan has also been rather terrible this year. You two must compete in a final event to decide who will be last."
This was a lot to take in, even if your head doesn't feel like it has a thousand horses stampeding inside it. Apparently I was at some sort of contest, and if I lost these aliens would destroy earth. I gotta remember this so I can tell Johnny what he put me through. I'll forcefeed him some of his shrooms next time.
I also noticed a similar glass cubicle to my left, with a similar bed inside and two aliens. Can't really describe them, other than 'tentacly' theres not really a word that fits them. But one of them was clamped to the bed like my fat friend, and the second one was standing next to the bed just like me.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | I woke up with a nasty headache. Probably drank too much last night, like every saturday. Not that I remember much of last night. Heck, its been a while since I managed to recover 8 hours of memories. I know I'm drinking too much. Like way to much. But I dont really care. It helps me forget. Helps me get over it. Helps me think it might have all just been a dream, or rather a nightmare.
It was a Sunday morning, much like this very Sunday morning. I remember the hangover, but it was nothing compared to what I have now. It was your normal, casual hangover from hanging out with friends. Friends. Been a while since I've seen any of them. Probably too busy with college and stuff, or just not wanting to hang out with a drunk like me. Or maybe we hung out last night? Can't remember.
Anyways, I was telling a story here so better get on with it before the chili con carne from last night finds its way back up. Or was it pizza? So there I was slowly trying to pull myself together to get up and I notice theres like bright light all over the place. Naturally I just squeeze my eyes tight and wait for the light to dim down. Stupid hangover. I should really learn to stop drinking when I'm drunk. I wait for like 30 seconds, or it could have been 30 minutes, its all a bit blurry you know. The light doesn't dim down. I squint and see I'm not where I'm supposed to be. Shit. Not again. Did I drink that much? Last month I woke up in some strange girls apartment. Barely managed to sneak out before she woke up. I look around and try to asses the situation and hope to not see some big hairy dude lying next to me.
I turn around. Theres a big hairy dude drooling on a pillow. Fuck. Just fuck. What the fuck did I do last night? Like seriously what the fuck happened? Priority change. The shock made me sober up a bit. I need to get out of here. Fast. As I carefully sweep away the sheets to not wake up the sasquatch next to me, I try and look for the exit. Then I notice I'm inside something this is best described as a glass cubicle sitting in the middle of nowhere. By then I'm convinced I'm not really awake and still tripping my balls off. I must have been convinced to try some shrooms or something, probably by Johnny. Jup, sounds like something he would get me to do. Lets give drunken Jim some shrooms so he'll totally be out of this world! Next time I see him I'll ...
"And it seems that earthling number 2 will be the chosen one!" blasts through my head, and suddenly the box is no longer in the middle of nowhere. I am now surrounded by a massive arena filled with thousands of ...well thousands of something. Its not humans, its aliens. Like the whole star wars cast at least. Whatever Johnny gave me its some serious drugstuff. On the bed fatty finally woke up. "Huh? What?" is all he could muster before metal clamps shout out of the bed and anchored him to it.
"Greeting Earthling, you have been chosen to compete for your planet in the final event of the interplanetary olympics. As you are currently in last place, the fate of your planet depends on you," said the same voice again, pounding through my hangover like a thousands sledgehammers. The crowd roared. "Wait what?" I stuttered. Since this was all my imagination, might as well play along and have a good time. Maybe my drug induced fantasy might manage to bring in the cute girl at the bar from last night, so...
"Ha, the human doesn't seem to understand. By the name of Zorg, I knew these humans were stupid, but this stupid?" spoke the announcer, followed by some weird gargling from the crowd. "The last placed planet of the interplanetary games will be destroyed as punishment for your terrible performance. The first placed planet gets too push the button as a reward, along with eternal glory of course. Seen as your fellow earthlings have all performed terribly, earth is currently placed last. But, not all hope is lost, as the planet of Xarxan has also been rather terrible this year. You two must compete in a final event to decide who will be last."
This was a lot to take in, even if your head doesn't feel like it has a thousand horses stampeding inside it. Apparently I was at some sort of contest, and if I lost these aliens would destroy earth. I gotta remember this so I can tell Johnny what he put me through. I'll forcefeed him some of his shrooms next time.
I also noticed a similar glass cubicle to my left, with a similar bed inside and two aliens. Can't really describe them, other than 'tentacly' theres not really a word that fits them. But one of them was clamped to the bed like my fat friend, and the second one was standing next to the bed just like me.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Carl was miserable. Under any other circumstances, he would be awestruck at the sky that stretched out before him: a black canvas washed with swirling blue and pink nebula, dwarfed only by the ringed planet that hung at its zenith. But Carl didn't even take notice as he sat sulking in a lukewarm bath of rejuvenating goo. His muscles ached, but the pain slowly faded as the goo did whatever it did to repair the torn tissue.
Next to Carl, in it's own goo-bath was Xthigrchloooo (whose nickname, Carl was relieved to learn, was Xth), a tentacled transluscent blue creature whos skin felt like smooth rubber and emitted a faint glow. Xth had no obvious orifices on its body, but Carl learned during his first night at the games that Xth ate his food by surrounding it like a white blood cell attacking a bacteria, slowly absorbing it. Xth's seven "eyes" were glowing orbs that hovered about 2 inches underneath his skin. Six of the seven eyes currently focused on Carl with what he could only imagine was pity.
"Cheer up," Xth said. "There's still one event left, and all you have to do is not be in last place. How difficult can that be?" The translator device that Carl wore in his ear was uncomfortably warm as it worked overtime to simplify Xth's burbling speech into something he could comprehend. The acclimation-handler to whom Carl had been assigned on the first day--a silica-based entity called Maeas that moved by destroying and regrowing it's body's crystalline structure--had unceremoniously shoved the translator into Carl's ear before explaining to him that the device would create a substantial amount of heat as it worked to dumb down the various alien languages into something his human brain could handle. It was all downhill from there.
"That's easy for you to say," Carl sighed. "You've placed high enough to guarantee that your planet won't be obliterated." Carl eyed the three medals that were lodged halfway into Xth's body. Xth's first place medal was made of a large black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. He also wore two 3rd place medals. These medals were similar to the first place award, but the central black disc was surrounded by three yellow discs. It wasn't until this moment that as Carl, exhausted and unable to focus on anything but the Xth's medals, realized that the medals represented atoms, with 1st place being hydrogen.
"You took 768th place in yesterday's event," Xth encouraged.
Carl rolled his eyes.
"That was pure luck. Even after the event was explained to me, I had no idea what I was doing. I jumped through a hole in a wall and landed face first in the mud."
"And you did it better than 84,000 other competitors! Clearly, though, that was an event for the Purians. They win it every cycle." Xth sank further into his goo bath with a gurgling sound that Carl's translator didn't bother with, so Carl just assumed it was a relaxed sigh. "Get some rest," Xth continued, "and don't worry yourself about tomorrow. I have a feeling your luck will change."
*How did I get here?* Carl asked himself; he meant the question figuratively *and* literally, as he had no recollection of how he had been transported from his apartment in New York to a planet in a binary star system on the other side of the Milky Way. Had his entire boring life been leading up to this moment, or was he just a random selection among the 7 billion people on earth? All he knew was that he had been selected to represent Earth--just as Xth and all of the other competitors had been chosen to stand for their own worlds--in some galactic contest of ... what? Will? Strength? Intelligence? Carl had no idea.
Carl sank into his goo bath. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt the goo become firm around his body -- the goo baths, for the aliens that used them, were also their beds. This was something that Carl was only now getting used to. Soon, though, the acrid smell of the bath faded as Carl's brain shut down for the night. He dreamed of pizza and rude cab drivers.
Carl was jolted awake by a blaring klaxon followed by an annoucement: "Competitors, please report to Event quadrant three for the final game." Pulling his arms from the now solidified goo bath, Carl rubbed his eyes and turned to say "good morning" to Xth, but Xth was gone. There was a Xth-shaped whole in his bath, but no Xth. That saddened Carl. Xth, despite being sentient Jell-O, was the only being that bothered to speak to Carl during his six days at the game. Many of the aliens he had encountered seemed to have no emotions at all, or emotions that were completely incomprehensible to Carl, but Xth was different. He seemd to understand Carl and even empathize with him. Carl admitted to himself that he was actually going to miss Xth when this was over.
Reluctantly, Carl pulled himself out of his bath. He slid himself into his competition garment, an impossibly thin unitard that seemed to have no weight. He couldn't even feel it against his skin.
A glowing red line on the ground guided Carl to the event area. He followed it to a large gray dome that rose a few hundred feet into the air. As he approached the wall of the dome, a Carl-shaped hole opened, revealing the bright interior. Next to him, a familiar shape appeared. Xth's seven orbs focused on Carl. "Goodbye and good luck, Carl. You have done your planet a great service." Xth began to slide through his own hole in the dome wall.
"Thanks, Xth, I--wait, what do you mean 'goodbye'?" Carl asked. But Xth's hole had already begun to close behind him. Carl stepped through his hole. There seemed to be some kind of invisible field over the hole, as Carl had to push his body through it. He smelled ozone and felt a tinlgling feeling as he passed through the hole.
*Maybe Xth's right,* Carl thought with a surge of confidence. *Despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing, I only have to avoid losing this event completely so save Earth. Maybe I can do this.*
Carl's body surged forward with a newly found confidence as he pushed through the finally few inches of the dome wall, popped out into the bright interior of the arena, and promptly collapsed to the ground.
The pain was unbearable. His lungs burned. Searing pane shot through the entire length of his body and seemed to occupy every cell. Carl couldn't breath. His muscles convulsed involuntarily as his mind and body tried desperately to find oxygen. His fists were balled so tightly that he could feel his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. Carl's eyes were wet with blood. He shut them tightly as the pain gave way to overwhelming fear and sadness at his failure.
A strong bolt of pain caused Carl to open his eyes. Through a green haze of the dome's atmosphere, Carl could see the faint outlines of other competitors. Many of them were motionless. Some moved about slowly inside the dome. Carl spotted Xth to his left, looking somewhat disappointed, but otherwise unharmed. Before Carl's eyes closed again, he saw Xth's glowing eyes settle on his writhing body. For a moment, Carl could have sworn that Xth's expression was one of pride or happiness. As Carl's vision faded, he closed his eyes tightly. Pinpoints of light peppered his sight as his mind reeled with visions of his family, friends and billion of other innocent people screaming as Earth exploded into a cloud of debris.
*Will they curse my name?* Carl wondered. *Will they even know I'm the one who doomed them to extinction?*
The pain in Carl's body began to subside. His muscles relaxed. He thought of Star Wars and espresso, and fresh cut grass, and koalas.
*I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.*
And Carl was dead.
In the dome, the rest of the more than 84,000 competitors wandered aimlessly, disappointed, around the inside of the dome. Hours passed.
A few more aliens collapsed and expired. Then, the dome began to open.
Several of the competitors, including Xth, approached Carl's lifeless body. A small grey rock-like being floated towards Carl. The competitors who had encircled his body parted to allow the grey being to approach him. The grey rock descended to hover inches over Carl's corpse. Small black tentacles grew from the grey rock and extended towards Carl's face. They touched his cold skin and felt along his body. Seconds later, the tentacles retracted back into the grey being's body. A small hole opened in its side, and a larger tentacle placed something on Carl's chest: a small black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The intergalactic stadium fell silent as the leader board displayed the score. Its characters were completely foreign to me. I leaned over to ywoarg and asked for clarification. Despite my special helmet designed to translate everything I hear into a language I can understand he seemed to be the only one willing to talk to me.
"It is a list of the scores, human. You are not doing so well. It seems as though you may not have a planet to go back to, though you are still within your potential to save it, if you place first in this last event."
"What's the last event?" As if in answer to my question the board buzzed and the wall of yellow characters was replaced by many fewer, yet larger, green characters. The crowd cheered. I saw one creature at the end of the bench we all sat on start leaping up and down, another began smacking the bench with one of his many appendages. Ywoarg put what I could only assume was his head in what I could only assume was his hands.
"...." Nothing but static came through my helmet. I gave Ywoarg a quizzical look, at this point he had figured out that meant I had no idea what he was saying.
"It is like... complaining, but not just complaining, complaining with no purpose, complaining about things you cannot change, and of course complaining about things that are irrelevant."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are we supposed to complain about? How do you judge a complaint it not by how much the subject of the complaint deserves to be complained about? You know, this whole god damn contest has been rigged against be from the start, you transport me here and ask me to compete against beings who are so physically advanced that some of them don't even need to breathe?" At this point I was yelling as loud as I could.
"I mean I'm no single cell organism like that piece of rice thing over there, but why the Hell even ask me to compete if I have no fucking chance of saving my planet, do you all just like watching lesser beings squirm? Have you all just evolved out of your consciences? You know what, go ahead and destroy my planet, I'm not performing for you sick fucks anymore, I'm not a dancing monkey. And who the fuck destroys a planet? Who do you think you are?" At some point during my tirade I had stood up. Upon looking at the other contestants and crowd behind me I realized everyone was watching me intently. I promptly sat down and tried to hide my head in my knees. No less than 2 seconds later the crowd erupted in cheering. Even other contestants were clapping (I think) for me. I swear I even saw one wipe away a tear.
This editor aucks on my phone will finish after work | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | No, seriously, I am not making this shit up. I *did* plan on going to Vegas. I did *not* get there. There was some weird ass UFO shit and then Bill FUCKING Murray came out and explained it all.
No, I have never used mind altering drugs. No I was not drinking because no I was *not* in Vegas. No there is no history of family illness. Bill Murray is an alien ambassador. Humans conquered the galaxy eons ago and have been trying to preserve planets better. We're one of many experiments and we are in **LAST. PLACE.** We failed the land tests, the sea tests, the air tests. Before us they didn't even check space because how could we fuck that up but we fucked that up. Bill says if we don't figure out how to take this shit seriously our ancestors are going to wipe down the planet and try again.
PLEASE do not get hung up on the Bill Murray part. No, listen, we don't even have to fix anything we just have to show that we know we're being tested and plan to do better. There's some sort of questionnaire in this big ass rock in Australia, I don't know. The only thing we have to do is make sure that when humanity is polled, a significant population can pick our Ambassador out of a line up. He's supposed to convince you himself but he gave up a long time ago. Now he only talks about it when he's drunk.
No. I was not drinking. He was drinking. Him. Not me. Fuck I don't have time for this shit. I'll just tell the internet he said no one would ever believe me. That always works.
| And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The aliens were terrifying and bewildering; hulking behemoths and stalking predators, covered in barbed spines or gelatinous acidic ooze. John counted himself lucky to have been spared the combat events. He had watched though, as fight after fight ended in a rapid exchange of blows, the victorious monsters not even breaking a sweat in the exertion of breaking their opponent.
Forced to the starting line of a what appeared to be a simple foot-race, he couldn't help but feel helplessly small, trapped between two nightmare creatures to his right and left, with the heat of an alien sun beating down on him. The unmistakeable sound of a starting gun. He bolted before the cattle prod could catch him from behind. Running, very literally he suspected, as if his life depended on it.
The pack pulled ahead, but he was barely 50 metres down the track before the great stone giant running to his right slowed, falling down onto one huge knee, toppling to the side with a dull thud. As John loped past the fallen alien he saw another bizarre creature slowing, it's many legs going limp as it's skin changed from a deep purple to a pale blue.
The sweat ran down his face, as the realisation struck him; out of every alien there, not one of the bastards was sweating. Not one of them was *able* to sweat. He was surrounded by the descendants of apex predators, accustomed to brief explosive chases to bring down prey with an economy of effort, not tests of endurance in fleeing. Unable to shed heat efficiently they were succumbing beneath the burning sun, boiling from the inside.
They had thought this their most difficult trial, the most amusing to throw the tiny human into. They had been very much mistaken. | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | And we're back with live coverage of the two thousand and fifty third interplanetary Olympics, direct from Gliese 6c! And what a spectacle it's been so far, Rob.
You can say that again, Claire. I haven't seen competition this fierce since the nuclear blast survivability round. In fact I haven't seen anything since!
As we head into the final round of competition, the current standings are as follows:
Orion Nebula in 1st place,
Gliese 6c in 2nd place,
. . .
and finally, Earth finishing last in 45,341st place.
Those earthlings definitely need to step up their game if they want to be home for dinner, Claire.
That's right, Rob, since the colony that places last will be eliminated with the LifeStar 4G "planet buster", the latest innovation in high-energy confinement fusion.
And it looks like we're ready to start the final round of competition. The invigilators have gathered around the podium to reveal the final task that awaits the contestants.
. . .
Could it be? Oxygen breathing. I thought that sport was banned back in '83!
Well, it was discontinued for a time due to the detrimental effect the toxic, corrosive gas had on the contestants. However, the league of oxygen athletics was able to re-instate the sport after demonstrating an improved oxygen breathing technique that prevents the most harmful, irreversible damage to most organisms. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The intergalactic stadium fell silent as the leader board displayed the score. Its characters were completely foreign to me. I leaned over to ywoarg and asked for clarification. Despite my special helmet designed to translate everything I hear into a language I can understand he seemed to be the only one willing to talk to me.
"It is a list of the scores, human. You are not doing so well. It seems as though you may not have a planet to go back to, though you are still within your potential to save it, if you place first in this last event."
"What's the last event?" As if in answer to my question the board buzzed and the wall of yellow characters was replaced by many fewer, yet larger, green characters. The crowd cheered. I saw one creature at the end of the bench we all sat on start leaping up and down, another began smacking the bench with one of his many appendages. Ywoarg put what I could only assume was his head in what I could only assume was his hands.
"...." Nothing but static came through my helmet. I gave Ywoarg a quizzical look, at this point he had figured out that meant I had no idea what he was saying.
"It is like... complaining, but not just complaining, complaining with no purpose, complaining about things you cannot change, and of course complaining about things that are irrelevant."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are we supposed to complain about? How do you judge a complaint it not by how much the subject of the complaint deserves to be complained about? You know, this whole god damn contest has been rigged against be from the start, you transport me here and ask me to compete against beings who are so physically advanced that some of them don't even need to breathe?" At this point I was yelling as loud as I could.
"I mean I'm no single cell organism like that piece of rice thing over there, but why the Hell even ask me to compete if I have no fucking chance of saving my planet, do you all just like watching lesser beings squirm? Have you all just evolved out of your consciences? You know what, go ahead and destroy my planet, I'm not performing for you sick fucks anymore, I'm not a dancing monkey. And who the fuck destroys a planet? Who do you think you are?" At some point during my tirade I had stood up. Upon looking at the other contestants and crowd behind me I realized everyone was watching me intently. I promptly sat down and tried to hide my head in my knees. No less than 2 seconds later the crowd erupted in cheering. Even other contestants were clapping (I think) for me. I swear I even saw one wipe away a tear.
This editor aucks on my phone will finish after work | Carl was miserable. Under any other circumstances, he would be awestruck at the sky that stretched out before him: a black canvas washed with swirling blue and pink nebula, dwarfed only by the ringed planet that hung at its zenith. But Carl didn't even take notice as he sat sulking in a lukewarm bath of rejuvenating goo. His muscles ached, but the pain slowly faded as the goo did whatever it did to repair the torn tissue.
Next to Carl, in it's own goo-bath was Xthigrchloooo (whose nickname, Carl was relieved to learn, was Xth), a tentacled transluscent blue creature whos skin felt like smooth rubber and emitted a faint glow. Xth had no obvious orifices on its body, but Carl learned during his first night at the games that Xth ate his food by surrounding it like a white blood cell attacking a bacteria, slowly absorbing it. Xth's seven "eyes" were glowing orbs that hovered about 2 inches underneath his skin. Six of the seven eyes currently focused on Carl with what he could only imagine was pity.
"Cheer up," Xth said. "There's still one event left, and all you have to do is not be in last place. How difficult can that be?" The translator device that Carl wore in his ear was uncomfortably warm as it worked overtime to simplify Xth's burbling speech into something he could comprehend. The acclimation-handler to whom Carl had been assigned on the first day--a silica-based entity called Maeas that moved by destroying and regrowing it's body's crystalline structure--had unceremoniously shoved the translator into Carl's ear before explaining to him that the device would create a substantial amount of heat as it worked to dumb down the various alien languages into something his human brain could handle. It was all downhill from there.
"That's easy for you to say," Carl sighed. "You've placed high enough to guarantee that your planet won't be obliterated." Carl eyed the three medals that were lodged halfway into Xth's body. Xth's first place medal was made of a large black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. He also wore two 3rd place medals. These medals were similar to the first place award, but the central black disc was surrounded by three yellow discs. It wasn't until this moment that as Carl, exhausted and unable to focus on anything but the Xth's medals, realized that the medals represented atoms, with 1st place being hydrogen.
"You took 768th place in yesterday's event," Xth encouraged.
Carl rolled his eyes.
"That was pure luck. Even after the event was explained to me, I had no idea what I was doing. I jumped through a hole in a wall and landed face first in the mud."
"And you did it better than 84,000 other competitors! Clearly, though, that was an event for the Purians. They win it every cycle." Xth sank further into his goo bath with a gurgling sound that Carl's translator didn't bother with, so Carl just assumed it was a relaxed sigh. "Get some rest," Xth continued, "and don't worry yourself about tomorrow. I have a feeling your luck will change."
*How did I get here?* Carl asked himself; he meant the question figuratively *and* literally, as he had no recollection of how he had been transported from his apartment in New York to a planet in a binary star system on the other side of the Milky Way. Had his entire boring life been leading up to this moment, or was he just a random selection among the 7 billion people on earth? All he knew was that he had been selected to represent Earth--just as Xth and all of the other competitors had been chosen to stand for their own worlds--in some galactic contest of ... what? Will? Strength? Intelligence? Carl had no idea.
Carl sank into his goo bath. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt the goo become firm around his body -- the goo baths, for the aliens that used them, were also their beds. This was something that Carl was only now getting used to. Soon, though, the acrid smell of the bath faded as Carl's brain shut down for the night. He dreamed of pizza and rude cab drivers.
Carl was jolted awake by a blaring klaxon followed by an annoucement: "Competitors, please report to Event quadrant three for the final game." Pulling his arms from the now solidified goo bath, Carl rubbed his eyes and turned to say "good morning" to Xth, but Xth was gone. There was a Xth-shaped whole in his bath, but no Xth. That saddened Carl. Xth, despite being sentient Jell-O, was the only being that bothered to speak to Carl during his six days at the game. Many of the aliens he had encountered seemed to have no emotions at all, or emotions that were completely incomprehensible to Carl, but Xth was different. He seemd to understand Carl and even empathize with him. Carl admitted to himself that he was actually going to miss Xth when this was over.
Reluctantly, Carl pulled himself out of his bath. He slid himself into his competition garment, an impossibly thin unitard that seemed to have no weight. He couldn't even feel it against his skin.
A glowing red line on the ground guided Carl to the event area. He followed it to a large gray dome that rose a few hundred feet into the air. As he approached the wall of the dome, a Carl-shaped hole opened, revealing the bright interior. Next to him, a familiar shape appeared. Xth's seven orbs focused on Carl. "Goodbye and good luck, Carl. You have done your planet a great service." Xth began to slide through his own hole in the dome wall.
"Thanks, Xth, I--wait, what do you mean 'goodbye'?" Carl asked. But Xth's hole had already begun to close behind him. Carl stepped through his hole. There seemed to be some kind of invisible field over the hole, as Carl had to push his body through it. He smelled ozone and felt a tinlgling feeling as he passed through the hole.
*Maybe Xth's right,* Carl thought with a surge of confidence. *Despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing, I only have to avoid losing this event completely so save Earth. Maybe I can do this.*
Carl's body surged forward with a newly found confidence as he pushed through the finally few inches of the dome wall, popped out into the bright interior of the arena, and promptly collapsed to the ground.
The pain was unbearable. His lungs burned. Searing pane shot through the entire length of his body and seemed to occupy every cell. Carl couldn't breath. His muscles convulsed involuntarily as his mind and body tried desperately to find oxygen. His fists were balled so tightly that he could feel his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. Carl's eyes were wet with blood. He shut them tightly as the pain gave way to overwhelming fear and sadness at his failure.
A strong bolt of pain caused Carl to open his eyes. Through a green haze of the dome's atmosphere, Carl could see the faint outlines of other competitors. Many of them were motionless. Some moved about slowly inside the dome. Carl spotted Xth to his left, looking somewhat disappointed, but otherwise unharmed. Before Carl's eyes closed again, he saw Xth's glowing eyes settle on his writhing body. For a moment, Carl could have sworn that Xth's expression was one of pride or happiness. As Carl's vision faded, he closed his eyes tightly. Pinpoints of light peppered his sight as his mind reeled with visions of his family, friends and billion of other innocent people screaming as Earth exploded into a cloud of debris.
*Will they curse my name?* Carl wondered. *Will they even know I'm the one who doomed them to extinction?*
The pain in Carl's body began to subside. His muscles relaxed. He thought of Star Wars and espresso, and fresh cut grass, and koalas.
*I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.*
And Carl was dead.
In the dome, the rest of the more than 84,000 competitors wandered aimlessly, disappointed, around the inside of the dome. Hours passed.
A few more aliens collapsed and expired. Then, the dome began to open.
Several of the competitors, including Xth, approached Carl's lifeless body. A small grey rock-like being floated towards Carl. The competitors who had encircled his body parted to allow the grey being to approach him. The grey rock descended to hover inches over Carl's corpse. Small black tentacles grew from the grey rock and extended towards Carl's face. They touched his cold skin and felt along his body. Seconds later, the tentacles retracted back into the grey being's body. A small hole opened in its side, and a larger tentacle placed something on Carl's chest: a small black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | Carl was miserable. Under any other circumstances, he would be awestruck at the sky that stretched out before him: a black canvas washed with swirling blue and pink nebula, dwarfed only by the ringed planet that hung at its zenith. But Carl didn't even take notice as he sat sulking in a lukewarm bath of rejuvenating goo. His muscles ached, but the pain slowly faded as the goo did whatever it did to repair the torn tissue.
Next to Carl, in it's own goo-bath was Xthigrchloooo (whose nickname, Carl was relieved to learn, was Xth), a tentacled transluscent blue creature whos skin felt like smooth rubber and emitted a faint glow. Xth had no obvious orifices on its body, but Carl learned during his first night at the games that Xth ate his food by surrounding it like a white blood cell attacking a bacteria, slowly absorbing it. Xth's seven "eyes" were glowing orbs that hovered about 2 inches underneath his skin. Six of the seven eyes currently focused on Carl with what he could only imagine was pity.
"Cheer up," Xth said. "There's still one event left, and all you have to do is not be in last place. How difficult can that be?" The translator device that Carl wore in his ear was uncomfortably warm as it worked overtime to simplify Xth's burbling speech into something he could comprehend. The acclimation-handler to whom Carl had been assigned on the first day--a silica-based entity called Maeas that moved by destroying and regrowing it's body's crystalline structure--had unceremoniously shoved the translator into Carl's ear before explaining to him that the device would create a substantial amount of heat as it worked to dumb down the various alien languages into something his human brain could handle. It was all downhill from there.
"That's easy for you to say," Carl sighed. "You've placed high enough to guarantee that your planet won't be obliterated." Carl eyed the three medals that were lodged halfway into Xth's body. Xth's first place medal was made of a large black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. He also wore two 3rd place medals. These medals were similar to the first place award, but the central black disc was surrounded by three yellow discs. It wasn't until this moment that as Carl, exhausted and unable to focus on anything but the Xth's medals, realized that the medals represented atoms, with 1st place being hydrogen.
"You took 768th place in yesterday's event," Xth encouraged.
Carl rolled his eyes.
"That was pure luck. Even after the event was explained to me, I had no idea what I was doing. I jumped through a hole in a wall and landed face first in the mud."
"And you did it better than 84,000 other competitors! Clearly, though, that was an event for the Purians. They win it every cycle." Xth sank further into his goo bath with a gurgling sound that Carl's translator didn't bother with, so Carl just assumed it was a relaxed sigh. "Get some rest," Xth continued, "and don't worry yourself about tomorrow. I have a feeling your luck will change."
*How did I get here?* Carl asked himself; he meant the question figuratively *and* literally, as he had no recollection of how he had been transported from his apartment in New York to a planet in a binary star system on the other side of the Milky Way. Had his entire boring life been leading up to this moment, or was he just a random selection among the 7 billion people on earth? All he knew was that he had been selected to represent Earth--just as Xth and all of the other competitors had been chosen to stand for their own worlds--in some galactic contest of ... what? Will? Strength? Intelligence? Carl had no idea.
Carl sank into his goo bath. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt the goo become firm around his body -- the goo baths, for the aliens that used them, were also their beds. This was something that Carl was only now getting used to. Soon, though, the acrid smell of the bath faded as Carl's brain shut down for the night. He dreamed of pizza and rude cab drivers.
Carl was jolted awake by a blaring klaxon followed by an annoucement: "Competitors, please report to Event quadrant three for the final game." Pulling his arms from the now solidified goo bath, Carl rubbed his eyes and turned to say "good morning" to Xth, but Xth was gone. There was a Xth-shaped whole in his bath, but no Xth. That saddened Carl. Xth, despite being sentient Jell-O, was the only being that bothered to speak to Carl during his six days at the game. Many of the aliens he had encountered seemed to have no emotions at all, or emotions that were completely incomprehensible to Carl, but Xth was different. He seemd to understand Carl and even empathize with him. Carl admitted to himself that he was actually going to miss Xth when this was over.
Reluctantly, Carl pulled himself out of his bath. He slid himself into his competition garment, an impossibly thin unitard that seemed to have no weight. He couldn't even feel it against his skin.
A glowing red line on the ground guided Carl to the event area. He followed it to a large gray dome that rose a few hundred feet into the air. As he approached the wall of the dome, a Carl-shaped hole opened, revealing the bright interior. Next to him, a familiar shape appeared. Xth's seven orbs focused on Carl. "Goodbye and good luck, Carl. You have done your planet a great service." Xth began to slide through his own hole in the dome wall.
"Thanks, Xth, I--wait, what do you mean 'goodbye'?" Carl asked. But Xth's hole had already begun to close behind him. Carl stepped through his hole. There seemed to be some kind of invisible field over the hole, as Carl had to push his body through it. He smelled ozone and felt a tinlgling feeling as he passed through the hole.
*Maybe Xth's right,* Carl thought with a surge of confidence. *Despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing, I only have to avoid losing this event completely so save Earth. Maybe I can do this.*
Carl's body surged forward with a newly found confidence as he pushed through the finally few inches of the dome wall, popped out into the bright interior of the arena, and promptly collapsed to the ground.
The pain was unbearable. His lungs burned. Searing pane shot through the entire length of his body and seemed to occupy every cell. Carl couldn't breath. His muscles convulsed involuntarily as his mind and body tried desperately to find oxygen. His fists were balled so tightly that he could feel his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. Carl's eyes were wet with blood. He shut them tightly as the pain gave way to overwhelming fear and sadness at his failure.
A strong bolt of pain caused Carl to open his eyes. Through a green haze of the dome's atmosphere, Carl could see the faint outlines of other competitors. Many of them were motionless. Some moved about slowly inside the dome. Carl spotted Xth to his left, looking somewhat disappointed, but otherwise unharmed. Before Carl's eyes closed again, he saw Xth's glowing eyes settle on his writhing body. For a moment, Carl could have sworn that Xth's expression was one of pride or happiness. As Carl's vision faded, he closed his eyes tightly. Pinpoints of light peppered his sight as his mind reeled with visions of his family, friends and billion of other innocent people screaming as Earth exploded into a cloud of debris.
*Will they curse my name?* Carl wondered. *Will they even know I'm the one who doomed them to extinction?*
The pain in Carl's body began to subside. His muscles relaxed. He thought of Star Wars and espresso, and fresh cut grass, and koalas.
*I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.*
And Carl was dead.
In the dome, the rest of the more than 84,000 competitors wandered aimlessly, disappointed, around the inside of the dome. Hours passed.
A few more aliens collapsed and expired. Then, the dome began to open.
Several of the competitors, including Xth, approached Carl's lifeless body. A small grey rock-like being floated towards Carl. The competitors who had encircled his body parted to allow the grey being to approach him. The grey rock descended to hover inches over Carl's corpse. Small black tentacles grew from the grey rock and extended towards Carl's face. They touched his cold skin and felt along his body. Seconds later, the tentacles retracted back into the grey being's body. A small hole opened in its side, and a larger tentacle placed something on Carl's chest: a small black disc with a smaller yellow disc connected to it by a white bar. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The aliens were terrifying and bewildering; hulking behemoths and stalking predators, covered in barbed spines or gelatinous acidic ooze. John counted himself lucky to have been spared the combat events. He had watched though, as fight after fight ended in a rapid exchange of blows, the victorious monsters not even breaking a sweat in the exertion of breaking their opponent.
Forced to the starting line of a what appeared to be a simple foot-race, he couldn't help but feel helplessly small, trapped between two nightmare creatures to his right and left, with the heat of an alien sun beating down on him. The unmistakeable sound of a starting gun. He bolted before the cattle prod could catch him from behind. Running, very literally he suspected, as if his life depended on it.
The pack pulled ahead, but he was barely 50 metres down the track before the great stone giant running to his right slowed, falling down onto one huge knee, toppling to the side with a dull thud. As John loped past the fallen alien he saw another bizarre creature slowing, it's many legs going limp as it's skin changed from a deep purple to a pale blue.
The sweat ran down his face, as the realisation struck him; out of every alien there, not one of the bastards was sweating. Not one of them was *able* to sweat. He was surrounded by the descendants of apex predators, accustomed to brief explosive chases to bring down prey with an economy of effort, not tests of endurance in fleeing. Unable to shed heat efficiently they were succumbing beneath the burning sun, boiling from the inside.
They had thought this their most difficult trial, the most amusing to throw the tiny human into. They had been very much mistaken. | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Maximillian Ludwig Zeiner.
He detested his full German name. Being born in New York he could not fathom why his parents wanted to keep so much of their heritage. But that heritage meant the world to him today.
The klaxon sounds above him and an alien voice rang through the loud speaker. Even though he did not understand it, he knew what it meant.
He was Earth's chosen savior, or its reckoning, doomed to compete with 24 other chosen from other species. Each and every species had claws, fangs, wings, unwieldy mass or the ability to breath underwater, acid spit, and some even had mild shape-shifting abilities.
Max was a normal human. Average Sat's. No physical prowess. Liberal arts degree. Barista by day and bartender by night. He had no chance.
As the doors opened and his usher's urged him forward he walked to a big octagon where he saw 24 podiums.
The announcers voice rang out in his strange dialect, but his usher translated for him " You must drink the contents of the glass on your podium" He then noticed the amber glass a mere 5 meters away. "After you are finished it will replenish itself, then you must drink again. Repeat this until only one man stands."
With those final word uttered his usher nudge's him in the back to the podium.
With sweat running from is brow he looks over all the competitors.
Another klaxon sounds and in unison all 25 competitors grab up their glass and down the amber liquid.
A large creature to the right yells in agony and falls to the floor.
A bug like creature unleashes a guttural wail and keels over.
The rest on the competitors seem unfazed but upon closer inspection some are wobbling in place. One human-cat creature started rambling in it's native then stumbled backwards.
Then in the midst of it all Max stare's at the glass in his hands, bewildered by the realization he says "This is light beer."
Edit: I am new to this. Please excuse my ignorance with Reddit formatting. | No, seriously, I am not making this shit up. I *did* plan on going to Vegas. I did *not* get there. There was some weird ass UFO shit and then Bill FUCKING Murray came out and explained it all.
No, I have never used mind altering drugs. No I was not drinking because no I was *not* in Vegas. No there is no history of family illness. Bill Murray is an alien ambassador. Humans conquered the galaxy eons ago and have been trying to preserve planets better. We're one of many experiments and we are in **LAST. PLACE.** We failed the land tests, the sea tests, the air tests. Before us they didn't even check space because how could we fuck that up but we fucked that up. Bill says if we don't figure out how to take this shit seriously our ancestors are going to wipe down the planet and try again.
PLEASE do not get hung up on the Bill Murray part. No, listen, we don't even have to fix anything we just have to show that we know we're being tested and plan to do better. There's some sort of questionnaire in this big ass rock in Australia, I don't know. The only thing we have to do is make sure that when humanity is polled, a significant population can pick our Ambassador out of a line up. He's supposed to convince you himself but he gave up a long time ago. Now he only talks about it when he's drunk.
No. I was not drinking. He was drinking. Him. Not me. Fuck I don't have time for this shit. I'll just tell the internet he said no one would ever believe me. That always works.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | The aliens were terrifying and bewildering; hulking behemoths and stalking predators, covered in barbed spines or gelatinous acidic ooze. John counted himself lucky to have been spared the combat events. He had watched though, as fight after fight ended in a rapid exchange of blows, the victorious monsters not even breaking a sweat in the exertion of breaking their opponent.
Forced to the starting line of a what appeared to be a simple foot-race, he couldn't help but feel helplessly small, trapped between two nightmare creatures to his right and left, with the heat of an alien sun beating down on him. The unmistakeable sound of a starting gun. He bolted before the cattle prod could catch him from behind. Running, very literally he suspected, as if his life depended on it.
The pack pulled ahead, but he was barely 50 metres down the track before the great stone giant running to his right slowed, falling down onto one huge knee, toppling to the side with a dull thud. As John loped past the fallen alien he saw another bizarre creature slowing, it's many legs going limp as it's skin changed from a deep purple to a pale blue.
The sweat ran down his face, as the realisation struck him; out of every alien there, not one of the bastards was sweating. Not one of them was *able* to sweat. He was surrounded by the descendants of apex predators, accustomed to brief explosive chases to bring down prey with an economy of effort, not tests of endurance in fleeing. Unable to shed heat efficiently they were succumbing beneath the burning sun, boiling from the inside.
They had thought this their most difficult trial, the most amusing to throw the tiny human into. They had been very much mistaken. | No, seriously, I am not making this shit up. I *did* plan on going to Vegas. I did *not* get there. There was some weird ass UFO shit and then Bill FUCKING Murray came out and explained it all.
No, I have never used mind altering drugs. No I was not drinking because no I was *not* in Vegas. No there is no history of family illness. Bill Murray is an alien ambassador. Humans conquered the galaxy eons ago and have been trying to preserve planets better. We're one of many experiments and we are in **LAST. PLACE.** We failed the land tests, the sea tests, the air tests. Before us they didn't even check space because how could we fuck that up but we fucked that up. Bill says if we don't figure out how to take this shit seriously our ancestors are going to wipe down the planet and try again.
PLEASE do not get hung up on the Bill Murray part. No, listen, we don't even have to fix anything we just have to show that we know we're being tested and plan to do better. There's some sort of questionnaire in this big ass rock in Australia, I don't know. The only thing we have to do is make sure that when humanity is polled, a significant population can pick our Ambassador out of a line up. He's supposed to convince you himself but he gave up a long time ago. Now he only talks about it when he's drunk.
No. I was not drinking. He was drinking. Him. Not me. Fuck I don't have time for this shit. I'll just tell the internet he said no one would ever believe me. That always works.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." | No, seriously, I am not making this shit up. I *did* plan on going to Vegas. I did *not* get there. There was some weird ass UFO shit and then Bill FUCKING Murray came out and explained it all.
No, I have never used mind altering drugs. No I was not drinking because no I was *not* in Vegas. No there is no history of family illness. Bill Murray is an alien ambassador. Humans conquered the galaxy eons ago and have been trying to preserve planets better. We're one of many experiments and we are in **LAST. PLACE.** We failed the land tests, the sea tests, the air tests. Before us they didn't even check space because how could we fuck that up but we fucked that up. Bill says if we don't figure out how to take this shit seriously our ancestors are going to wipe down the planet and try again.
PLEASE do not get hung up on the Bill Murray part. No, listen, we don't even have to fix anything we just have to show that we know we're being tested and plan to do better. There's some sort of questionnaire in this big ass rock in Australia, I don't know. The only thing we have to do is make sure that when humanity is polled, a significant population can pick our Ambassador out of a line up. He's supposed to convince you himself but he gave up a long time ago. Now he only talks about it when he's drunk.
No. I was not drinking. He was drinking. Him. Not me. Fuck I don't have time for this shit. I'll just tell the internet he said no one would ever believe me. That always works.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | No, seriously, I am not making this shit up. I *did* plan on going to Vegas. I did *not* get there. There was some weird ass UFO shit and then Bill FUCKING Murray came out and explained it all.
No, I have never used mind altering drugs. No I was not drinking because no I was *not* in Vegas. No there is no history of family illness. Bill Murray is an alien ambassador. Humans conquered the galaxy eons ago and have been trying to preserve planets better. We're one of many experiments and we are in **LAST. PLACE.** We failed the land tests, the sea tests, the air tests. Before us they didn't even check space because how could we fuck that up but we fucked that up. Bill says if we don't figure out how to take this shit seriously our ancestors are going to wipe down the planet and try again.
PLEASE do not get hung up on the Bill Murray part. No, listen, we don't even have to fix anything we just have to show that we know we're being tested and plan to do better. There's some sort of questionnaire in this big ass rock in Australia, I don't know. The only thing we have to do is make sure that when humanity is polled, a significant population can pick our Ambassador out of a line up. He's supposed to convince you himself but he gave up a long time ago. Now he only talks about it when he's drunk.
No. I was not drinking. He was drinking. Him. Not me. Fuck I don't have time for this shit. I'll just tell the internet he said no one would ever believe me. That always works.
|
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." | The aliens were terrifying and bewildering; hulking behemoths and stalking predators, covered in barbed spines or gelatinous acidic ooze. John counted himself lucky to have been spared the combat events. He had watched though, as fight after fight ended in a rapid exchange of blows, the victorious monsters not even breaking a sweat in the exertion of breaking their opponent.
Forced to the starting line of a what appeared to be a simple foot-race, he couldn't help but feel helplessly small, trapped between two nightmare creatures to his right and left, with the heat of an alien sun beating down on him. The unmistakeable sound of a starting gun. He bolted before the cattle prod could catch him from behind. Running, very literally he suspected, as if his life depended on it.
The pack pulled ahead, but he was barely 50 metres down the track before the great stone giant running to his right slowed, falling down onto one huge knee, toppling to the side with a dull thud. As John loped past the fallen alien he saw another bizarre creature slowing, it's many legs going limp as it's skin changed from a deep purple to a pale blue.
The sweat ran down his face, as the realisation struck him; out of every alien there, not one of the bastards was sweating. Not one of them was *able* to sweat. He was surrounded by the descendants of apex predators, accustomed to brief explosive chases to bring down prey with an economy of effort, not tests of endurance in fleeing. Unable to shed heat efficiently they were succumbing beneath the burning sun, boiling from the inside.
They had thought this their most difficult trial, the most amusing to throw the tiny human into. They had been very much mistaken. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | The aliens were terrifying and bewildering; hulking behemoths and stalking predators, covered in barbed spines or gelatinous acidic ooze. John counted himself lucky to have been spared the combat events. He had watched though, as fight after fight ended in a rapid exchange of blows, the victorious monsters not even breaking a sweat in the exertion of breaking their opponent.
Forced to the starting line of a what appeared to be a simple foot-race, he couldn't help but feel helplessly small, trapped between two nightmare creatures to his right and left, with the heat of an alien sun beating down on him. The unmistakeable sound of a starting gun. He bolted before the cattle prod could catch him from behind. Running, very literally he suspected, as if his life depended on it.
The pack pulled ahead, but he was barely 50 metres down the track before the great stone giant running to his right slowed, falling down onto one huge knee, toppling to the side with a dull thud. As John loped past the fallen alien he saw another bizarre creature slowing, it's many legs going limp as it's skin changed from a deep purple to a pale blue.
The sweat ran down his face, as the realisation struck him; out of every alien there, not one of the bastards was sweating. Not one of them was *able* to sweat. He was surrounded by the descendants of apex predators, accustomed to brief explosive chases to bring down prey with an economy of effort, not tests of endurance in fleeing. Unable to shed heat efficiently they were succumbing beneath the burning sun, boiling from the inside.
They had thought this their most difficult trial, the most amusing to throw the tiny human into. They had been very much mistaken. |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." | "Ladies and gentlemen! Triploids and trans-asexuals! Welcome to the 2301st Milkyway Endurance Olympics!"
Mike could not understand what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: he did not want to be here. He was just a fat dude living in his mom's basement. He did not have a job, he did not have friends, he was good for nothing, he thought.
"Our first competitor is from the asteroid belt of Narubia! You probably know him but for those who don't, he is a warrior who has killed countless Racknorians in the civil war in his system and after that, got into olympics. He has a total of 87 gold medals and will probably leave with even more medals!"
An uproar rose from the tribunes. Mike did not know which part of the first alien was more scary. Was that the part he ate an alive alien's head and threw the body to his fans, who caught it like some baseball from a star player, or the part his arms looked more like weapons with all the spikes coming out of them.
"Our second competitor is from the beatiful but deadly planet of Solnia! If you were also watching the hunting olympics, you know about our beatiful competitor with 30 heads from the last hunting."
She was nothing near beautiful, Mike thought. As he was thinking about saying this, the second alien killed a random alien from Solnian side of the tribunes and sprayed its orange-ish goo on its other fans. They did not look scared at all...
"And our third competitor is an ex-pilot from the Vanguard fleet. He was a fighter pilot and shot down countless Andromedan fighters before retiring and starting a career in olympics."
This one looked almost humanly, until he opened his mouth to speak which was his... chest.
Mike was almost going to cry and he actually has when he was first abducted but the aliens did not seem to care.
"And our last competitor is from the exotic third planet of Sol. Its inhabitants live in a boring peace. So, here he is!"
He waved at the tribunes but he could not get the uproar the first three could get. He did not care anyway, he just wanted this to end.
"So, if you don't know what happens in the Olympics, let me tell you. It is pretty simple with only one kind of sport. Unlike the other 5619 olympics, there are no combat sports or any endurance sports, except for one. The competitors are asked to do maybe the hardest thing for any living being: to lie on a couch and try to stay lying with as small amount of brainwaves and as long as they can."
Mike was now really confused. So did the aliens simply watch the competitors sleep as long as they could? That was weird but this was also his expertise. When he would get bored, he could sleep through 20 hours without even moving an inch. He could even sleep on will, after 30 years of career as a couch potato.
"Now, there will be only one winner and one survivor. The losers will have to compete in the 7092nd Getting Eaten Olympics, which is pretty much death for them. That was too much talk anyway, let the Endurance Olympics begin!"
It was really not hard to sleep on the soft couch for Mike. Actually, it was not hard for him to sleep anywhere. He stopped thinking and in a mere seconds, he was asleep.
"And our last competitor wakes up! Everyone, hail the winner of the Olympics! Now, what do you wish, winner?"
"I called for a pizza when you guys kidnapped me so I think... A lifetime supply of any kind of pizza I want plus getting back home I guess." |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | Her arms numb and skin torn, exhaustion emanated off her. Barely able to stand, she finished the grueling race second to last. She felt the disdain and mockery from other species, her soft meat useless next to their spiny exoskeletons. Even those who possessed similar bodies had some skill in the events, whereas she failed miserably at everything.
"Allah, why must I, a simple mother and wife, decide the fate of my beloved home?"
She didn't have anywhere else to turn except prayer. These aliens had stripped her of her dignity and exposed her naked body for all to see. She had no allies, she was alone and vulnerable when she needed to be her strongest.
"Please let me win, let me find the strength I need to will myself up and fight..."
She cried. Not for herself, but for her children, her husband, and her parents. She cried for everyone. Death would come and it would be her doing. She never felt so little over so much.
"Let me die! I will sacrifice my life to save those I care for and have yet to care for! Allah, do what is just...please..."
Pleading and bargaining, she tried to keep praying but found it hard. Her pain was absolute, both physical and emotional. She was forsaken and alone. She had no more words, for there was nothing to convey her horror. Earth would be lost and that would weigh on her soul for eternity.
She looked at the screens, Earth, ]{, and something she couldn't quite read were lined up. The bottom three. She noticed the other names were also grouped into threes. Her vision was blurred from her tears and her eyes burned. The world around her faded in and out of focus.
A massive claw dropped from the sky and snatched her off the ground, the grip so tight she couldn't scream. The movements were so rapid she lost any visual barring and was shocked to be finally released. She hit the ground, hot sand burning her countless gashes. Gasping for air, she looked around. A screen showing the instructions emerged in the distance. Unable to crawl, she drug herself towards it. Each movement was unbearable, but she continued on. She had to. Upon reaching it, the surrounding land pulled away and the sand drained away leaving metal platforms. On each was an inferior being like herself that had failed in every event. She glanced at the instructions.
"YOU ARE WEAKER THAN ALL. YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS BY MENTAL FEATS NOT CAPABLE BY MOST - IMAGINE WHAT MOST CANNOT. WHOMEVER DOESNT SUCCEED SHALL SUFFER THE ULTIMATE PRICE."
She cried, fearing what that meant. She had no great mental gifts; her math was atrocious and she could barely write. Then she had a realization and smiled for the first time in a long while.
"Thank you, Allah."
She slept. Her dreams were more remarkable than anything the other two could imagine. When she woke, it was in her bed. She cried again.
"Thank you truly, Allah."
She slept. | "Ladies and gentlemen! Triploids and trans-asexuals! Welcome to the 2301st Milkyway Endurance Olympics!"
Mike could not understand what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: he did not want to be here. He was just a fat dude living in his mom's basement. He did not have a job, he did not have friends, he was good for nothing, he thought.
"Our first competitor is from the asteroid belt of Narubia! You probably know him but for those who don't, he is a warrior who has killed countless Racknorians in the civil war in his system and after that, got into olympics. He has a total of 87 gold medals and will probably leave with even more medals!"
An uproar rose from the tribunes. Mike did not know which part of the first alien was more scary. Was that the part he ate an alive alien's head and threw the body to his fans, who caught it like some baseball from a star player, or the part his arms looked more like weapons with all the spikes coming out of them.
"Our second competitor is from the beatiful but deadly planet of Solnia! If you were also watching the hunting olympics, you know about our beatiful competitor with 30 heads from the last hunting."
She was nothing near beautiful, Mike thought. As he was thinking about saying this, the second alien killed a random alien from Solnian side of the tribunes and sprayed its orange-ish goo on its other fans. They did not look scared at all...
"And our third competitor is an ex-pilot from the Vanguard fleet. He was a fighter pilot and shot down countless Andromedan fighters before retiring and starting a career in olympics."
This one looked almost humanly, until he opened his mouth to speak which was his... chest.
Mike was almost going to cry and he actually has when he was first abducted but the aliens did not seem to care.
"And our last competitor is from the exotic third planet of Sol. Its inhabitants live in a boring peace. So, here he is!"
He waved at the tribunes but he could not get the uproar the first three could get. He did not care anyway, he just wanted this to end.
"So, if you don't know what happens in the Olympics, let me tell you. It is pretty simple with only one kind of sport. Unlike the other 5619 olympics, there are no combat sports or any endurance sports, except for one. The competitors are asked to do maybe the hardest thing for any living being: to lie on a couch and try to stay lying with as small amount of brainwaves and as long as they can."
Mike was now really confused. So did the aliens simply watch the competitors sleep as long as they could? That was weird but this was also his expertise. When he would get bored, he could sleep through 20 hours without even moving an inch. He could even sleep on will, after 30 years of career as a couch potato.
"Now, there will be only one winner and one survivor. The losers will have to compete in the 7092nd Getting Eaten Olympics, which is pretty much death for them. That was too much talk anyway, let the Endurance Olympics begin!"
It was really not hard to sleep on the soft couch for Mike. Actually, it was not hard for him to sleep anywhere. He stopped thinking and in a mere seconds, he was asleep.
"And our last competitor wakes up! Everyone, hail the winner of the Olympics! Now, what do you wish, winner?"
"I called for a pizza when you guys kidnapped me so I think... A lifetime supply of any kind of pizza I want plus getting back home I guess." |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | "Ladies and gentlemen! Triploids and trans-asexuals! Welcome to the 2301st Milkyway Endurance Olympics!"
Mike could not understand what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: he did not want to be here. He was just a fat dude living in his mom's basement. He did not have a job, he did not have friends, he was good for nothing, he thought.
"Our first competitor is from the asteroid belt of Narubia! You probably know him but for those who don't, he is a warrior who has killed countless Racknorians in the civil war in his system and after that, got into olympics. He has a total of 87 gold medals and will probably leave with even more medals!"
An uproar rose from the tribunes. Mike did not know which part of the first alien was more scary. Was that the part he ate an alive alien's head and threw the body to his fans, who caught it like some baseball from a star player, or the part his arms looked more like weapons with all the spikes coming out of them.
"Our second competitor is from the beatiful but deadly planet of Solnia! If you were also watching the hunting olympics, you know about our beatiful competitor with 30 heads from the last hunting."
She was nothing near beautiful, Mike thought. As he was thinking about saying this, the second alien killed a random alien from Solnian side of the tribunes and sprayed its orange-ish goo on its other fans. They did not look scared at all...
"And our third competitor is an ex-pilot from the Vanguard fleet. He was a fighter pilot and shot down countless Andromedan fighters before retiring and starting a career in olympics."
This one looked almost humanly, until he opened his mouth to speak which was his... chest.
Mike was almost going to cry and he actually has when he was first abducted but the aliens did not seem to care.
"And our last competitor is from the exotic third planet of Sol. Its inhabitants live in a boring peace. So, here he is!"
He waved at the tribunes but he could not get the uproar the first three could get. He did not care anyway, he just wanted this to end.
"So, if you don't know what happens in the Olympics, let me tell you. It is pretty simple with only one kind of sport. Unlike the other 5619 olympics, there are no combat sports or any endurance sports, except for one. The competitors are asked to do maybe the hardest thing for any living being: to lie on a couch and try to stay lying with as small amount of brainwaves and as long as they can."
Mike was now really confused. So did the aliens simply watch the competitors sleep as long as they could? That was weird but this was also his expertise. When he would get bored, he could sleep through 20 hours without even moving an inch. He could even sleep on will, after 30 years of career as a couch potato.
"Now, there will be only one winner and one survivor. The losers will have to compete in the 7092nd Getting Eaten Olympics, which is pretty much death for them. That was too much talk anyway, let the Endurance Olympics begin!"
It was really not hard to sleep on the soft couch for Mike. Actually, it was not hard for him to sleep anywhere. He stopped thinking and in a mere seconds, he was asleep.
"And our last competitor wakes up! Everyone, hail the winner of the Olympics! Now, what do you wish, winner?"
"I called for a pizza when you guys kidnapped me so I think... A lifetime supply of any kind of pizza I want plus getting back home I guess." |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." |
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | [WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | Her arms numb and skin torn, exhaustion emanated off her. Barely able to stand, she finished the grueling race second to last. She felt the disdain and mockery from other species, her soft meat useless next to their spiny exoskeletons. Even those who possessed similar bodies had some skill in the events, whereas she failed miserably at everything.
"Allah, why must I, a simple mother and wife, decide the fate of my beloved home?"
She didn't have anywhere else to turn except prayer. These aliens had stripped her of her dignity and exposed her naked body for all to see. She had no allies, she was alone and vulnerable when she needed to be her strongest.
"Please let me win, let me find the strength I need to will myself up and fight..."
She cried. Not for herself, but for her children, her husband, and her parents. She cried for everyone. Death would come and it would be her doing. She never felt so little over so much.
"Let me die! I will sacrifice my life to save those I care for and have yet to care for! Allah, do what is just...please..."
Pleading and bargaining, she tried to keep praying but found it hard. Her pain was absolute, both physical and emotional. She was forsaken and alone. She had no more words, for there was nothing to convey her horror. Earth would be lost and that would weigh on her soul for eternity.
She looked at the screens, Earth, ]{, and something she couldn't quite read were lined up. The bottom three. She noticed the other names were also grouped into threes. Her vision was blurred from her tears and her eyes burned. The world around her faded in and out of focus.
A massive claw dropped from the sky and snatched her off the ground, the grip so tight she couldn't scream. The movements were so rapid she lost any visual barring and was shocked to be finally released. She hit the ground, hot sand burning her countless gashes. Gasping for air, she looked around. A screen showing the instructions emerged in the distance. Unable to crawl, she drug herself towards it. Each movement was unbearable, but she continued on. She had to. Upon reaching it, the surrounding land pulled away and the sand drained away leaving metal platforms. On each was an inferior being like herself that had failed in every event. She glanced at the instructions.
"YOU ARE WEAKER THAN ALL. YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS BY MENTAL FEATS NOT CAPABLE BY MOST - IMAGINE WHAT MOST CANNOT. WHOMEVER DOESNT SUCCEED SHALL SUFFER THE ULTIMATE PRICE."
She cried, fearing what that meant. She had no great mental gifts; her math was atrocious and she could barely write. Then she had a realization and smiled for the first time in a long while.
"Thank you, Allah."
She slept. Her dreams were more remarkable than anything the other two could imagine. When she woke, it was in her bed. She cried again.
"Thank you truly, Allah."
She slept. |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | My eyes opened. "What, this again?" | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Saved the world, lost myself. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Hold my beer, I'm going in. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | He cried. No remorse was felt. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Don't send flowers; They'll die too. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | "I hate those ducks you bought" | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | This wasn't mentioned in the data. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Landing is going to really hurt. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | I remember!You're my wife ! | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Sadly, we never could fight it.
Edit: Wow i wrote this in zen mode so I didn't read anyone else's stories. Needless to say I'm pretty embarrassed by what some of you could come up with in just 6 words, makes my story look simple. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | I walked among Gods. I'm back. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | We said "No." The world changed. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | This is not the full story. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | She was my light. It's dark. | Final sunrise. We kiss; we die. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | My eyes opened. "What, this again?" | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Saved the world, lost myself. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Hold my beer, I'm going in. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | He cried. No remorse was felt. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Don't send flowers; They'll die too. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | "I hate those ducks you bought" | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | This wasn't mentioned in the data. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Landing is going to really hurt. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | I remember!You're my wife ! | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Sadly, we never could fight it.
Edit: Wow i wrote this in zen mode so I didn't read anyone else's stories. Needless to say I'm pretty embarrassed by what some of you could come up with in just 6 words, makes my story look simple. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | I walked among Gods. I'm back. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | We said "No." The world changed. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | This is not the full story. | Her utterly horrified expression amused me. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | My eyes opened. "What, this again?" | He outran the pain, and road. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Saved the world, lost myself. | He outran the pain, and road. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Hold my beer, I'm going in. | He outran the pain, and road. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | He cried. No remorse was felt. | He outran the pain, and road. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Don't send flowers; They'll die too. | He outran the pain, and road. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | Landing is going to really hurt. | He outran the pain, and road. | |
[FF] Write a story with 6 words or less | I remember!You're my wife ! | He outran the pain, and road. |
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