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[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Crusoe remembers the day well, the 34 years that has taken him to get to this point in his journey seem to have had no effect on his memory. He recalls getting Planet 2471, as a birthday present. His sixteenth birthday, while most kids his age were getting their first car, Crusoe got the deed to an exoplanet. He remembers the disappointing feeling he had opening the small box, he had hoped contained the keys to his first car. He remembers the excitement he felt when it was announced that intelligent, but primitive, life had been found on Terra, the name he had given his planet. He named it after his older sister, who had left him an only child the previous summer.
"Terra," the letter read, "Has an abundance of life very similar to that of what we have here at home. Carbon based life, an oxygen rich atmosphere, and water covers most of its surface. We will be sending a team of our planets most brilliant young minds to study the life and work along side the natives as ambassadors. You have been chosen, as the deed holder of this planet, to go on this adventure of a lifetime... there will be no sleeping pods, as we need you to be in constant contact with the host planet..."
Crusoe folded up the letter and placed it neatly back in his front breast pocket. It had been nearly 35 years ago since he first opened it. His father was not pleased in his decision to go on the expedition. Crusoe often wished he had heeded his fathers advice. "Deep space is no place for a young boy." His father's words echoed clearly in his memory, "You're all that I have left." Yet all Crusoe had left was his need to get as far away as he possibly could. This was his opportunity.
34 years, 256 days, 19 hours, and 56 minutes had passed since the crew departed. Out of the crew of 40, only 6 remained. Cancer took The crew leader only 4 years into the journey, a fire in the barracks claimed the lives of 21 more, and destroyed nearly half of the supplies they had. Two suicides, and a case of the flu done away with the rest. Without the proper medical supplies it was a wonder any of them had made it this far.
"Crusoe," Paul Louis interrupted Crusoe's day dream, "its time."
"Sorry, Paul," Crusoe said, "It is almost surreal we finally made it."
Paul smiled a cooked smile, "I know, but we have a job to do," he said as he entered the landing pod. "Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?"
Crusoe began to gear up, his heart was racing and his hands were shaking furiously, making it difficult to dawn his gear. When he finally found his seat in the pod, his nerves had calmed and left him feeling numb.
"Preparing to enter the atmosphere," an automated voice echoed. Crusoe braced himself and looked out the window to view his new home, really seeing it for the first time.
"What's the name of the settlement where we'll be landing at again?" Crusoe asked, Paul, as they began their decent.
"Area 51, is what the natives call it. Their leader, John, said it would be the safest place for us. Apparently, not everyone is as excited for our arrival as we anticipated," Paul said.
Edit: formatting x2
PART 2:
Crusoe, Paul, and the rest of the crew were growing restless. It had been weeks since their arrival, and they haven't been allowed to leave the facility once.
"I thought we were supposed to work together." Dana said to no one in particular.
"Be patient, Dana," Paul said, "We're their guest. They have procedures, just like we do at home. You can't just have an alien race come in an establish itself. Especially when they're still a primitive race." He looked at what he knew was a two way mirror on the other end of the room. "They want us to help them leave their atmosphere, and as ambassadors to or home planet, it's our duty to help our new allies. As long as we don't give them too much at one time, they will be able to do so without much speculation of our interference. They're almost there, after all. I've seen their blueprints. They resemble our early spacecraft."
Crusoe just sat in silence, like he had so many times before, lost in thought. This wasn't what he had in mind when he read "adventure of a lifetime" on that letter. He had spent the last 34 years learning the native tongue, not that it mattered much. The creatures that inhabited this planet weren't much for listening. Apparently there was a Great War just before their arrival. So much for peaceful beings. In all of their communication with us they left us in the dark on the state of their violent nature.
Paul just shrugged it off, "They're still learning," is what he said, "They have good intentions."
"Good intentions for who?" Thought Crusoe, "I'm sure the insect like creatures from the planet Omega, had good intentions when they breached the intergalactic peace treaty, and all but wiped out half of the known life in the universe. Sucking up all of their host planet's natural resources, before meeting their own demise when the intergalactic senate voted on their extermination. Their intentions were only good for them, and that's the way these creatures are wired. Crusoe just had a sinking feeling in his gut about all of this now.
"How are you all doing this morning?" Agent Smith said walking into the room. He was wearing the same black suit and tie Crusoe seen everyone wear on this planet, and he also wore a smirk on his face that said, "You're a fool for trusting us." But Crusoe was no fool, and there was at least one other person in his crew that held these mutual feelings.
"It's cold in here." Replied Dana. Despite being in what they called a hot environment, it was still too cold for our liking.
"I've got the heat as high as it will go, Dana." Agent Smith replied, "would you like another blanket?"
"Yes, please." Said Dana.
Agent Smith called over his radio for someone to fetch a blanket for Dana. "Now, Paul, have you modified the blueprints for the rocket as we asked?"
"They're right here," said Paul, "Are you still planning on making the announcement of our arrival to the rest of the planet?"
"Absolutely," Agent Smith said with the same crooked smile, "Just as soon as our leader, John, returns from a parade. See, it would look awfully fishy if he were to miss a scheduled event, and he must keep appearances up with his people."
"Understandable." Paul said handing the blueprints over. Politics were something the entire universe could understand.
"Thank you," Smith said with condescending tone. "If you need anything just give me a call, John is expected to fly in this afternoon."
So there we sat, awaiting John and his staff to give a formal welcome and make the announcement to his people of our arrival. I was dozing in and out of sleep when I heard a commotion. "Come with me now!" Agent Smith's voice rang. "We have to get you all to a safer place!"
Crusoe didn't trust him, but there was a panic in his voice that made Crusoe instinctively follow him out the door, and to an armored vehicle towards the back of the facility. The double doors slammed shut behind them as they entered the vehicle. "John is dead," Smith said with a grave tone, "he was shot, in what we suspect, was an intelligence breach of your arrival. Our enemies want you and your technology."
"And you don't?" Crusoe's words pierced the air.
"We want it for a different reason," Smith said almost pleading, "Our intentions are pure, we want to maintain peace on our planet, and your technology can help us do that."
"Or it could help you gain absolute control here," replied Crusoe. "Who's to say you're not the evil ones? We've been here for weeks and you've kept us on a tight leash. You want it all for yourselves."
"Silence," Said Paul. "You're making a fool of yourself Crusoe, Smith is just trying to help us," he looked towards Smith, "aren't you?"
"Absolutely," Smith said. "I understand your concern, but we want to take the next step into being a peaceful member of the galactic senate."
Crusoe could see Dana rolling her eye in defiance. He had to find a way to talk to her in private. If Paul wasn't going to stop defending these violent creatures, it would have to be up to Dana and himself to stop him before it was too late, for not only the crew, but the entire universe.
I wasn't sure where to write a part two. So I just replied to the original story. Hope you all like it.
| Planetary Deeds huh? Didn't think I would ever hear about another stupid gimmick like this. First there were those deeds for Stars, then they came out with deeds for Asteroids and now Exoplanets? Absurd, as if any of those things could really impress anyone. Thousands of dollars down the drain for a simple novelty, really? Absurd.
At least, recently I thought it was absurd. Then that fateful day occurred, with some news on Channel 37 blaring out alarms left and right. "We just received confirmation that Alphi Gara does indeed have life on it!" That day, sadly, was the first day I spat out my bowl of cereal. How I miss that cereal...
Anyway, that day I looked at the deed, and it said right there "Owner of Alphi Gara." It was absurd. I owned a planet with life on in. I owned a planet with life on it. I owned a planet with life... on... it...
Hahahahahahahaha! I owned a planet with life on it! I'm a world leader! I am a God! Haha! I owned a planet! I was ecstatic that day, almost bursting into tears as I ran to my car, got some gas as sped towards the nearest Space Shuttle Production and Launch Facility. Showing them the deed, they began production en masse and eventually shot me into the depths of space. Now, I'm slowly hurdling towards a planet that they don't even know the likes of with a Military Space crew. Gone from my home, my dog, my girlfriend and family, I sometimes wonder if it was really worth it.
**I liked the idea of this prompt, but I'm not really all that good at Space type stuff. I feel as if it seems a bit rushed, but IDRK. Please, give me some feedback and check out some of the other things I've written, responses or otherwise, on my brand new reddit /r/DaDurkShadow and comment there too! Thanks for reading!**
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | The first thing I do every morning is grabbing my phone and checking Reddit, not to my dataplan's delight. I checked /r/all as usual, commented some goofs and gafs. I opened the Messagebox expecting that weird troll from yesterday to respond. But it was much more than that. The first PM's I read consisted of 'OMG CONGRATS' and that type of stuff. At first I was very, very confused. As checking more PM's, my planet 'RickRoll420' supposedly has life on it. Yeah right. At first I thought it was some kind of prank, but when I opened /r/Planets, I saw a stickied post. A megathread. About my planet. I clicked on it, and threre were tons of people being really hyped about *life on my planet*. It was real! I felt kind of dizzy and started sweating. This couldn't be real! So I went to the official Planet Deed website. The website consists of a list of all planets to ever be 'deeded'. The list says the name, owner, and likelyhood of life. The last aspect was at 0.00 for all planets. I clicked on my profile and was greeted by a big 100.0 on the life likelyhood. It. Was. Real!! I shut off my phone and dressed up. Ate breakfast, just my usual student life morning. Except that I read everything about my planet. I was on the news. The name 'RickRoll420' was everywhere. Blue balls were rolling around on my planet and building some kind of metal structures. When I finished eating, I didn't know what to do. Should I sell my planet for a couple of billions? Should I rent it to scientists? I decided to walk over to my buddy Ethan, maybe he could help me. | This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | When I was 15 I received a gag-gift from my now late grandfather. A deed to a rather large planet which I named Artemis-600. I’d joked to him a while back about how nagging my parents were, and how all I wanted was space from them. When he handed me the deed he laughed, “Now you’ve got a whole planet of space, my girl!” And I laughed and framed it and smiled every time I saw it, but you see, that was the beginning of it all.
Fast-forward a year later and you’d see me arm-wrestling my brother on the living room coffee table. Although he was a year younger than me, he was taller and stronger. The news played in the background but my sole focus was on beating my brother. At least until I heard the name of my planet. And then that life was discovered. At first we stared with shock, then we jumped around the house screaming and cavorting. Our neighbors must have loved us, can you sense the sarcasm there?
But then the reporters came, and then I got contacted by people offering me millions and millions of dollars (even trillions!) for Artemis-600. Then mom and dad started arguing. It had only been 4 months since life was discovered on my planet, but things were coming to a head and quickly. My father was no longer my support, but my stress. Always pushing me about my planet. Every day it was new. Telling me how to run it, to kill all the life, to save all the life, to sell it, to keep it, to be a malevolent god, to be a benevolent god, to give the deed to him. That one stuck. He begged me and threatened and demanded I sign the deed over to him. My father had had a taste of power and it frightened me. It frightened us all. Things were getting to be too much, then mom left. And that straw broke me.
As I was the sole owner of A-600, only I could authorize human voyages to the planet. I could even sell voyages there if I wanted, like a shitty tourist agency. But no. All I wanted was for me and my brother to get away from this madness. I would have taken my mother too, but she was busy in New Texas pretending Artemis-600 and I didn’t exist. I didn't blame her, that planet had ruined her marriage. That next day while my father was at work, we packed. We tried to leave before he came home, but the fates had other plans. When I told him firmly we were going up to Artemis-600, he was like I’d never seen him. Red with rage and screaming foul language-he was a demon in my father’s skin. He was envious and prideful, and couldn’t stand his 16 year old had a planet worth more than his entire life’s earnings 300 times over, bought for 50 dollars. It was then that my father strode towards me, hand raised. It was then my brother jumped in front of me and acting on pure instinct, rushed our father. He fell to the floor and his head made a sickening thud but he rose up as we ran. Somehow we made it into his antique 2013 Ford and my brother gunned it to the Planetary Spaceport.
As everyone wanted publicity on the new planet, I was gifted thousands of planetary-exploration supplies, all I had to do was promise to show I was using them and they were mine. They’d already been loaded, along with my crew. All that was left was my brother and I. There was confusion at the dock, when I claimed to own A-600, but once I showed my ID and the deed, the man turned pale, then started begging me to come along. Then he too became violent. My brother pushed him aside and we ran once more. Our hearts were pounding, we felt we’d never leave this godforsaken planet for my own.
Finally we boarded and the countdown began. I figure I slipped into a stress-induced sleep as I don’t remember much of our 36 hour light speed journey. But I remember arriving. And I remember putting on my oxygen mask and my suit, and my brother zipping up the back. I remember being the one to open the bay doors and set foot on Artemis-600. When scanners showed the air was clean I was also the first to rip off my mask and dig my toes into the strange pale sand. I’m sorry to say I wasn’t relieved, nor excited. I was sick to my stomach. The events of the past 4 months had just caught me by the hair and punched me in the gut. I fell to my knees, puked and thus, christened my planet.
And then the tears came. And there we were, my brother and I. Kneeling in puke and weeping. All because of a 50 dollar joke.
It’s been two years since then, and we’ve carved out a nice little human colony for ourselves. The natives support us, as we bring new technology and innovation. We brought methods to clean the water, to cure their sick, to better their lives. But I apparently also started a new, disgusting and horrible tradition. They believe that our so-called (by them) superior species, lays claim to an object by violently vomiting and then weeping over it. Things were messy for a while, until we finally were able to get past the language barrier. We didn’t pass it completely, but they stopped puking on their children and pets at least. They now believe we only puke and weep when we visit a new place. Even though my planet is dusty, arid and sometimes smells of bile-my brother and I are happy and safe on Artemis-600.
We’re all too glad to leave Earth behind us, and so I say, goodbye.
EDIT: spelling issues
| This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "You have been served" the man said.
Stunned, I looked at the paper that I now held.
Citizens of Talbott 4 et al
vs
Mortimer14
RE: Illegal ownership claim by Mortimer14 over the Planet Talbott 4
Followed by the usual legaleeze. Apparently, the citizens are disputing my claim to the planet where they were born and raised. I'll need to hire a lawyer to look at this. The deed in question was a Christmas gift from last year. It stated that I own one planet in the Talbott system. Talbott 4 to be exact. When the deed was issued, nobody knew there was life there.
The life in question were roughly humanoid. Reddish skin, not unlike some native American tribes, four arms, two legs and one head. Their eyes were on stalks and could be turned giving them a 360 degree field of vision. They are also apparently highly intelligent, learning about our civil laws as well as our language from the scouts that explored that system.
The court date was listed on the paper and I showed up without a lawyer, nobody wanted to touch this case.
The representative from Talbott 4 spoke first. He (I think it was a he) was quite eloquent and called into question the validity of any deed granting ownership to an entire planet. It took him all of the first day to make his (her?) case. Recess was called and we are to assemble again in the morning.
After court, I have to spend some time in a law library looking up precedent as well as other similar cases. The planet was owned by the corporation by right of discovery. They issued the deed that was sold to my benefactor, thus the planet is owned by me. Everything that I can find in the library agrees with me.
In the morning, I make my case, citing many of the precedents that I found. It only takes a couple of hours to finish. Defense rests. The judge retreats to his chamber to make a decision. Hours go by with no word from the bench.
The courts close for the day and we all go back to our dwellings. There is a message on my answering machine....Please call 555-1212 in regards to the court case. A return phone call leads to a meeting at a local bar.
The Talbott representative offers a ton of gold and an equal amount of uncut gems in several varieties and colors if I will give up my rights to Talbott 4. I get the feeling that they are scared the judge will rule against them. I hold out for twice as much, plus 1/100th part of their global domestic production each year for 10 years.
I am now the richest person in this solar system. | This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "You sent them. You endanger us. Traitor."
"Please. Please, listen." Begging was alien to my employers but I had been away too long. "They have been finding new life for years, it wasn't me, I know how it seems but she gave..."
Communications closed for the final time. I picked up the glass tablet and threw it to the floor, kneeling alone in the shards, sobbing and surprised at my human reaction. It would be just minutes until my extermination.
My research was the first of it's kind; a long term and subtle integration into human life. Most were frightened of Earth but, like my sister, I found fascination in the unusual and intricate lives here. I looked down at the pieces of glass and shut my eyes, remembering our last day together.
"Happy first birthday! I know, I know...but it technically is and gifts are just such a cute, innately human tradition, aren't they!" She smiled expectantly, as I frowned and fiddled with the tape.
She had only arrived for a visit but, with her lifelong love of all things human, had made the transition look easy. A whole year and I was struggling with sticky tape.
"Jacob Bacon" I read aloud from the glass tablet, still enjoying the sound of my chosen name. A familiar map was etched into the glass and I ran a thumb around the circle in the centre. "Owner of Planet..."
"Home!" she interrupted, laughing her human laugh expertly. "How funny is that! Humans are now selling planets and you, Bacon, own ours."
I opened my damp eyes and began to collect the pieces of broken glass around me, standing and arranging them on the table next to the morning's paper.
The headline "New life found" wasn't too uncommon for Earth and I hadn't read it yet. But once the Planet Deeds were released, the news became big. "Bacon gives life!" the TV presenters grinned. "Of course intelligent life would live on Bacon, Paula. I myself live on bacon. Thank you, Jacob Bacon!"
I watched in horror at the discovery of my kind, my planet, the planet that Earth thought I owned. And then the communication had come.
Still standing, I pulled at strips of tape and tried to stick the pieces of glass back together. I ran my thumb across the map, slicing my skin on an edge of glass, my human blood running into the circular groove. My planet.
| This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | There was a singular present on the table, a holo-document. Being my 30th birthday I expected something more but we were a family of meager means so whatever it was I was sure to like it.
My mother and father were staring at me expectantly, I put on my best smile and clicked the button on the side, as it whirled to life I looked at the holo in front of me, it was a deed to a planet.
I was disappointed but feigned happiness and thanked my parents for the gift while wondering in my head how I was supposed to get any use out of a planetary deed, it's not like it had life right?
I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door, it was my parents and they looked really excited, "did we win the lottery or something?" I asked them.
"Close" my mother replied
I gestured them into my apartment so they could tell me this apparently fantastic news.
"Turn on the TV!" my mother exclaimed
I did so and to my amazement, my planet had life on it!
I thought to myself, that this has to be some kind of joke, planetary deeds are a novelty,
Their not supposed to have life on them!
As I sat there aghast for a short time my mother and father were prancing around my apartment, apparently not realizing the real meaning of the situation.
Needing some time to think about what I was going to do about this, I got up and exited my apartment and sat outside on my front stairs, looking up at the stars from our glass domed city.
I wouldn't even know what to do with 1000 bitcoins much less an entire planet...
I suppose I could try to fly there and check it out but what if they don't like me?
What if I can't understand their language?
So many questions and no definite answers....
I got up and took a deep breath of the oxygenated air to calm myself and strided back into the room to find that my mother and father were still prancing about.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and told them bluntly, "we're going to my new planet!"
My mom and dad made some high pitched squeals but stopped for a second after seemingly realizing something,
"How are we getting there?" My dad asked
"Well, I'm the ruler of an entire planet now, they have to let us go there!"
A couple days later we flew out by rocket and visited the planet, it was a very harsh place, dry, cracked and ice in place of water.
How any species could be living here I didn't know.
Sure enough though, in the distance was a town built out of a type of metal no one on earth had seen before.
It was shiny like gold, but at the same time, it had a pattern like that of tree bark and it was a bluish gray color.
The inhabitants living there didn't seem too different from humans, save for extended heads, tentacles in place of hair and eyes the color of sulfur.
Trying to communicate with them was also quite easy.
They happened to be a telepathic species and were fascinated by me and my family, looking us up and down, meticulously examining us like we were display pieces for their living rooms.
Everything was going fine, better than fine even, until I revealed that I was the one who now owned their planet, instead of them being fascinated, they were now afraid.
They ran into their houses and locked their doors like you would see in an old Western.
Me and parents decided to leave at that point, we didn't want to be seen as monsters and I realized I wasn't prepared to be in a position of power.
When we returned home, we acted like nothing happened, i still have the holo deed in my home to this day, maybe one day I'll return there but for now, life on earth as an ordinary man suits me just fine. | This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "Hell yeah bro! Did I just get a planet with life?"
"Yeah man shit is live, are you gonna enslave them?"
"Probably. Apparently I own the planet now. I heard the most advanced life forms there resemble primitive humans. So we are like, way more advanced then them."
"I say we take a hunting trip this weekend."
"What ship are we taking?"
"Let's take yours, i don't wanna drive."
"Bruh, what do you mean drive. We have autopilot, lets just smoke some loud while we voyage the cosmos. Enjoy the ride man, the hunt begins soon!"
-6 hours pass and our adventurers finally arrive on the mysterious planet, the two men, appear clumsy and stoned.-
"Yeet man, I figured we could use the rail guns to hunt them, but honestly I think the m82 would be more fun."
"Dang you gonna quickscope some Neanderthals, or what?"
"Yeah man, hit that YY ladder stall!"
"Alright fuck it let's do this shit."
I load the m82, the gun feels heavier than I remember. Must be from using all the newer weapons. Lightweight designs, perfect functionality. It's nice to feel the heaviness of a classic sniper rifle, a pleasant contrast to the newer tech. I missed the feeling.
We were both strapped, Robbie choosing to go with a rail gun and a small pistol, myself the sniper and a double barreled shotgun. Something about classic guns must get me off.
We step out of the ship, into a familiar setting. Woods. The biome we arrived in was frosted over. Temperature read somewhere around -30 degrees. I'll let you decide what metric.
"So what exactly are we hunting?"
I glance over and meet Robbie's gaze. Eyes glassy, he's high.
"Well I'd say-
My sentence is interrupted without even a second to reconcile, Robbie's throat is punctured. He drops to his knees, his hands fumbling at the thick wooden spear, halfway through his throat.
| This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder. | This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Crusoe remembers the day well, the 34 years that has taken him to get to this point in his journey seem to have had no effect on his memory. He recalls getting Planet 2471, as a birthday present. His sixteenth birthday, while most kids his age were getting their first car, Crusoe got the deed to an exoplanet. He remembers the disappointing feeling he had opening the small box, he had hoped contained the keys to his first car. He remembers the excitement he felt when it was announced that intelligent, but primitive, life had been found on Terra, the name he had given his planet. He named it after his older sister, who had left him an only child the previous summer.
"Terra," the letter read, "Has an abundance of life very similar to that of what we have here at home. Carbon based life, an oxygen rich atmosphere, and water covers most of its surface. We will be sending a team of our planets most brilliant young minds to study the life and work along side the natives as ambassadors. You have been chosen, as the deed holder of this planet, to go on this adventure of a lifetime... there will be no sleeping pods, as we need you to be in constant contact with the host planet..."
Crusoe folded up the letter and placed it neatly back in his front breast pocket. It had been nearly 35 years ago since he first opened it. His father was not pleased in his decision to go on the expedition. Crusoe often wished he had heeded his fathers advice. "Deep space is no place for a young boy." His father's words echoed clearly in his memory, "You're all that I have left." Yet all Crusoe had left was his need to get as far away as he possibly could. This was his opportunity.
34 years, 256 days, 19 hours, and 56 minutes had passed since the crew departed. Out of the crew of 40, only 6 remained. Cancer took The crew leader only 4 years into the journey, a fire in the barracks claimed the lives of 21 more, and destroyed nearly half of the supplies they had. Two suicides, and a case of the flu done away with the rest. Without the proper medical supplies it was a wonder any of them had made it this far.
"Crusoe," Paul Louis interrupted Crusoe's day dream, "its time."
"Sorry, Paul," Crusoe said, "It is almost surreal we finally made it."
Paul smiled a cooked smile, "I know, but we have a job to do," he said as he entered the landing pod. "Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?"
Crusoe began to gear up, his heart was racing and his hands were shaking furiously, making it difficult to dawn his gear. When he finally found his seat in the pod, his nerves had calmed and left him feeling numb.
"Preparing to enter the atmosphere," an automated voice echoed. Crusoe braced himself and looked out the window to view his new home, really seeing it for the first time.
"What's the name of the settlement where we'll be landing at again?" Crusoe asked, Paul, as they began their decent.
"Area 51, is what the natives call it. Their leader, John, said it would be the safest place for us. Apparently, not everyone is as excited for our arrival as we anticipated," Paul said.
Edit: formatting x2
PART 2:
Crusoe, Paul, and the rest of the crew were growing restless. It had been weeks since their arrival, and they haven't been allowed to leave the facility once.
"I thought we were supposed to work together." Dana said to no one in particular.
"Be patient, Dana," Paul said, "We're their guest. They have procedures, just like we do at home. You can't just have an alien race come in an establish itself. Especially when they're still a primitive race." He looked at what he knew was a two way mirror on the other end of the room. "They want us to help them leave their atmosphere, and as ambassadors to or home planet, it's our duty to help our new allies. As long as we don't give them too much at one time, they will be able to do so without much speculation of our interference. They're almost there, after all. I've seen their blueprints. They resemble our early spacecraft."
Crusoe just sat in silence, like he had so many times before, lost in thought. This wasn't what he had in mind when he read "adventure of a lifetime" on that letter. He had spent the last 34 years learning the native tongue, not that it mattered much. The creatures that inhabited this planet weren't much for listening. Apparently there was a Great War just before their arrival. So much for peaceful beings. In all of their communication with us they left us in the dark on the state of their violent nature.
Paul just shrugged it off, "They're still learning," is what he said, "They have good intentions."
"Good intentions for who?" Thought Crusoe, "I'm sure the insect like creatures from the planet Omega, had good intentions when they breached the intergalactic peace treaty, and all but wiped out half of the known life in the universe. Sucking up all of their host planet's natural resources, before meeting their own demise when the intergalactic senate voted on their extermination. Their intentions were only good for them, and that's the way these creatures are wired. Crusoe just had a sinking feeling in his gut about all of this now.
"How are you all doing this morning?" Agent Smith said walking into the room. He was wearing the same black suit and tie Crusoe seen everyone wear on this planet, and he also wore a smirk on his face that said, "You're a fool for trusting us." But Crusoe was no fool, and there was at least one other person in his crew that held these mutual feelings.
"It's cold in here." Replied Dana. Despite being in what they called a hot environment, it was still too cold for our liking.
"I've got the heat as high as it will go, Dana." Agent Smith replied, "would you like another blanket?"
"Yes, please." Said Dana.
Agent Smith called over his radio for someone to fetch a blanket for Dana. "Now, Paul, have you modified the blueprints for the rocket as we asked?"
"They're right here," said Paul, "Are you still planning on making the announcement of our arrival to the rest of the planet?"
"Absolutely," Agent Smith said with the same crooked smile, "Just as soon as our leader, John, returns from a parade. See, it would look awfully fishy if he were to miss a scheduled event, and he must keep appearances up with his people."
"Understandable." Paul said handing the blueprints over. Politics were something the entire universe could understand.
"Thank you," Smith said with condescending tone. "If you need anything just give me a call, John is expected to fly in this afternoon."
So there we sat, awaiting John and his staff to give a formal welcome and make the announcement to his people of our arrival. I was dozing in and out of sleep when I heard a commotion. "Come with me now!" Agent Smith's voice rang. "We have to get you all to a safer place!"
Crusoe didn't trust him, but there was a panic in his voice that made Crusoe instinctively follow him out the door, and to an armored vehicle towards the back of the facility. The double doors slammed shut behind them as they entered the vehicle. "John is dead," Smith said with a grave tone, "he was shot, in what we suspect, was an intelligence breach of your arrival. Our enemies want you and your technology."
"And you don't?" Crusoe's words pierced the air.
"We want it for a different reason," Smith said almost pleading, "Our intentions are pure, we want to maintain peace on our planet, and your technology can help us do that."
"Or it could help you gain absolute control here," replied Crusoe. "Who's to say you're not the evil ones? We've been here for weeks and you've kept us on a tight leash. You want it all for yourselves."
"Silence," Said Paul. "You're making a fool of yourself Crusoe, Smith is just trying to help us," he looked towards Smith, "aren't you?"
"Absolutely," Smith said. "I understand your concern, but we want to take the next step into being a peaceful member of the galactic senate."
Crusoe could see Dana rolling her eye in defiance. He had to find a way to talk to her in private. If Paul wasn't going to stop defending these violent creatures, it would have to be up to Dana and himself to stop him before it was too late, for not only the crew, but the entire universe.
I wasn't sure where to write a part two. So I just replied to the original story. Hope you all like it.
| This doesn't usually happen, with these "Planet Deeds." They don't usually sell them off if they think there's anything of value, anything of interest at all. After being bitten by the whole "own an asteroid" thing back in the 2050s, when it finally became profitable to actually mine some of these things and all those nerds with the little certificates were suddenly richer than they could have imagined... well, they didn't want that embarrassment to happen again. They only sold off exoplanets far enough away, barren enough, boring enough to satisfy the vanity of the buyer but not threaten the machine of galactic progress.
They were usually more careful. Profits could be made of a few hundred cred for the fancy certificate and the bragging rights of owning a planet (the Mormons dug it), if the mineral rights for a particular orbital chunk of rock were negligible. It was good business for the galactic sectorial corporations. Just good business.
I'd never waste my money on something so vapid, so useless, as a planet... but my ex would. It was exactly the kind of meaningless romantic bullshit he'd get up to, exactly as substance-lacking, exactly as shallow, exactly as effortless as he thought the purchase of my love could be. He left me with the deed when I turned down his proposal, but I don't think he got the irony. I guess maybe I didn't either.
They only discovered life on my planet because it started sending signals. They seem to work in fractals the way that we use decimals, which is cute- my ex chose that planet for me because of its curling surface patterns. Built of barren-seeming sand, how could we know that the silicates themselves weren't shaped by wind, but shaping it? How could we know that the winds picking up off of the surface bore seeds of new and strange intelligence? How could my ex have known, when he bought me a planet, that the planet he chose was predicated on the infinite complexity of togetherness, the beauty of organisms working together bending multiple purposes to a whole, crafting their world into a thing of beauty and unfathomable richness in their unity?
How could I know, upon discovery of my vast wealth and position in history as the legal owner of the third sentient life in the galaxy, that I would feel... nothing? | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "You have been served" the man said.
Stunned, I looked at the paper that I now held.
Citizens of Talbott 4 et al
vs
Mortimer14
RE: Illegal ownership claim by Mortimer14 over the Planet Talbott 4
Followed by the usual legaleeze. Apparently, the citizens are disputing my claim to the planet where they were born and raised. I'll need to hire a lawyer to look at this. The deed in question was a Christmas gift from last year. It stated that I own one planet in the Talbott system. Talbott 4 to be exact. When the deed was issued, nobody knew there was life there.
The life in question were roughly humanoid. Reddish skin, not unlike some native American tribes, four arms, two legs and one head. Their eyes were on stalks and could be turned giving them a 360 degree field of vision. They are also apparently highly intelligent, learning about our civil laws as well as our language from the scouts that explored that system.
The court date was listed on the paper and I showed up without a lawyer, nobody wanted to touch this case.
The representative from Talbott 4 spoke first. He (I think it was a he) was quite eloquent and called into question the validity of any deed granting ownership to an entire planet. It took him all of the first day to make his (her?) case. Recess was called and we are to assemble again in the morning.
After court, I have to spend some time in a law library looking up precedent as well as other similar cases. The planet was owned by the corporation by right of discovery. They issued the deed that was sold to my benefactor, thus the planet is owned by me. Everything that I can find in the library agrees with me.
In the morning, I make my case, citing many of the precedents that I found. It only takes a couple of hours to finish. Defense rests. The judge retreats to his chamber to make a decision. Hours go by with no word from the bench.
The courts close for the day and we all go back to our dwellings. There is a message on my answering machine....Please call 555-1212 in regards to the court case. A return phone call leads to a meeting at a local bar.
The Talbott representative offers a ton of gold and an equal amount of uncut gems in several varieties and colors if I will give up my rights to Talbott 4. I get the feeling that they are scared the judge will rule against them. I hold out for twice as much, plus 1/100th part of their global domestic production each year for 10 years.
I am now the richest person in this solar system. | The first thing I do every morning is grabbing my phone and checking Reddit, not to my dataplan's delight. I checked /r/all as usual, commented some goofs and gafs. I opened the Messagebox expecting that weird troll from yesterday to respond. But it was much more than that. The first PM's I read consisted of 'OMG CONGRATS' and that type of stuff. At first I was very, very confused. As checking more PM's, my planet 'RickRoll420' supposedly has life on it. Yeah right. At first I thought it was some kind of prank, but when I opened /r/Planets, I saw a stickied post. A megathread. About my planet. I clicked on it, and threre were tons of people being really hyped about *life on my planet*. It was real! I felt kind of dizzy and started sweating. This couldn't be real! So I went to the official Planet Deed website. The website consists of a list of all planets to ever be 'deeded'. The list says the name, owner, and likelyhood of life. The last aspect was at 0.00 for all planets. I clicked on my profile and was greeted by a big 100.0 on the life likelyhood. It. Was. Real!! I shut off my phone and dressed up. Ate breakfast, just my usual student life morning. Except that I read everything about my planet. I was on the news. The name 'RickRoll420' was everywhere. Blue balls were rolling around on my planet and building some kind of metal structures. When I finished eating, I didn't know what to do. Should I sell my planet for a couple of billions? Should I rent it to scientists? I decided to walk over to my buddy Ethan, maybe he could help me. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "You sent them. You endanger us. Traitor."
"Please. Please, listen." Begging was alien to my employers but I had been away too long. "They have been finding new life for years, it wasn't me, I know how it seems but she gave..."
Communications closed for the final time. I picked up the glass tablet and threw it to the floor, kneeling alone in the shards, sobbing and surprised at my human reaction. It would be just minutes until my extermination.
My research was the first of it's kind; a long term and subtle integration into human life. Most were frightened of Earth but, like my sister, I found fascination in the unusual and intricate lives here. I looked down at the pieces of glass and shut my eyes, remembering our last day together.
"Happy first birthday! I know, I know...but it technically is and gifts are just such a cute, innately human tradition, aren't they!" She smiled expectantly, as I frowned and fiddled with the tape.
She had only arrived for a visit but, with her lifelong love of all things human, had made the transition look easy. A whole year and I was struggling with sticky tape.
"Jacob Bacon" I read aloud from the glass tablet, still enjoying the sound of my chosen name. A familiar map was etched into the glass and I ran a thumb around the circle in the centre. "Owner of Planet..."
"Home!" she interrupted, laughing her human laugh expertly. "How funny is that! Humans are now selling planets and you, Bacon, own ours."
I opened my damp eyes and began to collect the pieces of broken glass around me, standing and arranging them on the table next to the morning's paper.
The headline "New life found" wasn't too uncommon for Earth and I hadn't read it yet. But once the Planet Deeds were released, the news became big. "Bacon gives life!" the TV presenters grinned. "Of course intelligent life would live on Bacon, Paula. I myself live on bacon. Thank you, Jacob Bacon!"
I watched in horror at the discovery of my kind, my planet, the planet that Earth thought I owned. And then the communication had come.
Still standing, I pulled at strips of tape and tried to stick the pieces of glass back together. I ran my thumb across the map, slicing my skin on an edge of glass, my human blood running into the circular groove. My planet.
| The first thing I do every morning is grabbing my phone and checking Reddit, not to my dataplan's delight. I checked /r/all as usual, commented some goofs and gafs. I opened the Messagebox expecting that weird troll from yesterday to respond. But it was much more than that. The first PM's I read consisted of 'OMG CONGRATS' and that type of stuff. At first I was very, very confused. As checking more PM's, my planet 'RickRoll420' supposedly has life on it. Yeah right. At first I thought it was some kind of prank, but when I opened /r/Planets, I saw a stickied post. A megathread. About my planet. I clicked on it, and threre were tons of people being really hyped about *life on my planet*. It was real! I felt kind of dizzy and started sweating. This couldn't be real! So I went to the official Planet Deed website. The website consists of a list of all planets to ever be 'deeded'. The list says the name, owner, and likelyhood of life. The last aspect was at 0.00 for all planets. I clicked on my profile and was greeted by a big 100.0 on the life likelyhood. It. Was. Real!! I shut off my phone and dressed up. Ate breakfast, just my usual student life morning. Except that I read everything about my planet. I was on the news. The name 'RickRoll420' was everywhere. Blue balls were rolling around on my planet and building some kind of metal structures. When I finished eating, I didn't know what to do. Should I sell my planet for a couple of billions? Should I rent it to scientists? I decided to walk over to my buddy Ethan, maybe he could help me. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder. | The first thing I do every morning is grabbing my phone and checking Reddit, not to my dataplan's delight. I checked /r/all as usual, commented some goofs and gafs. I opened the Messagebox expecting that weird troll from yesterday to respond. But it was much more than that. The first PM's I read consisted of 'OMG CONGRATS' and that type of stuff. At first I was very, very confused. As checking more PM's, my planet 'RickRoll420' supposedly has life on it. Yeah right. At first I thought it was some kind of prank, but when I opened /r/Planets, I saw a stickied post. A megathread. About my planet. I clicked on it, and threre were tons of people being really hyped about *life on my planet*. It was real! I felt kind of dizzy and started sweating. This couldn't be real! So I went to the official Planet Deed website. The website consists of a list of all planets to ever be 'deeded'. The list says the name, owner, and likelyhood of life. The last aspect was at 0.00 for all planets. I clicked on my profile and was greeted by a big 100.0 on the life likelyhood. It. Was. Real!! I shut off my phone and dressed up. Ate breakfast, just my usual student life morning. Except that I read everything about my planet. I was on the news. The name 'RickRoll420' was everywhere. Blue balls were rolling around on my planet and building some kind of metal structures. When I finished eating, I didn't know what to do. Should I sell my planet for a couple of billions? Should I rent it to scientists? I decided to walk over to my buddy Ethan, maybe he could help me. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | The first thing I do every morning is grabbing my phone and checking Reddit, not to my dataplan's delight. I checked /r/all as usual, commented some goofs and gafs. I opened the Messagebox expecting that weird troll from yesterday to respond. But it was much more than that. The first PM's I read consisted of 'OMG CONGRATS' and that type of stuff. At first I was very, very confused. As checking more PM's, my planet 'RickRoll420' supposedly has life on it. Yeah right. At first I thought it was some kind of prank, but when I opened /r/Planets, I saw a stickied post. A megathread. About my planet. I clicked on it, and threre were tons of people being really hyped about *life on my planet*. It was real! I felt kind of dizzy and started sweating. This couldn't be real! So I went to the official Planet Deed website. The website consists of a list of all planets to ever be 'deeded'. The list says the name, owner, and likelyhood of life. The last aspect was at 0.00 for all planets. I clicked on my profile and was greeted by a big 100.0 on the life likelyhood. It. Was. Real!! I shut off my phone and dressed up. Ate breakfast, just my usual student life morning. Except that I read everything about my planet. I was on the news. The name 'RickRoll420' was everywhere. Blue balls were rolling around on my planet and building some kind of metal structures. When I finished eating, I didn't know what to do. Should I sell my planet for a couple of billions? Should I rent it to scientists? I decided to walk over to my buddy Ethan, maybe he could help me. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "You have been served" the man said.
Stunned, I looked at the paper that I now held.
Citizens of Talbott 4 et al
vs
Mortimer14
RE: Illegal ownership claim by Mortimer14 over the Planet Talbott 4
Followed by the usual legaleeze. Apparently, the citizens are disputing my claim to the planet where they were born and raised. I'll need to hire a lawyer to look at this. The deed in question was a Christmas gift from last year. It stated that I own one planet in the Talbott system. Talbott 4 to be exact. When the deed was issued, nobody knew there was life there.
The life in question were roughly humanoid. Reddish skin, not unlike some native American tribes, four arms, two legs and one head. Their eyes were on stalks and could be turned giving them a 360 degree field of vision. They are also apparently highly intelligent, learning about our civil laws as well as our language from the scouts that explored that system.
The court date was listed on the paper and I showed up without a lawyer, nobody wanted to touch this case.
The representative from Talbott 4 spoke first. He (I think it was a he) was quite eloquent and called into question the validity of any deed granting ownership to an entire planet. It took him all of the first day to make his (her?) case. Recess was called and we are to assemble again in the morning.
After court, I have to spend some time in a law library looking up precedent as well as other similar cases. The planet was owned by the corporation by right of discovery. They issued the deed that was sold to my benefactor, thus the planet is owned by me. Everything that I can find in the library agrees with me.
In the morning, I make my case, citing many of the precedents that I found. It only takes a couple of hours to finish. Defense rests. The judge retreats to his chamber to make a decision. Hours go by with no word from the bench.
The courts close for the day and we all go back to our dwellings. There is a message on my answering machine....Please call 555-1212 in regards to the court case. A return phone call leads to a meeting at a local bar.
The Talbott representative offers a ton of gold and an equal amount of uncut gems in several varieties and colors if I will give up my rights to Talbott 4. I get the feeling that they are scared the judge will rule against them. I hold out for twice as much, plus 1/100th part of their global domestic production each year for 10 years.
I am now the richest person in this solar system. | Lady picks up newspaper, reads headline: 'LIFE DISCOVERED ON *EXOPLANET-491*!' She throws it to the ground and walks away.
I roll over in bed, five more minutes would be nice. This duvet is so warm and comfortable, I can be five minutes late and the boss won't moan, it's nearly Christmas after all. But when I close my eyes, I do not feel the embrace of silence. I hear shouting outside of my window, I cannot make out what they are saying and it begins to become annoying. The sound grows as I lie under the covers, so much for a little longer in bed before my shift at Brinkely's observatory. Begrudgingly I jump up and drape a long tee over my shoulders. What on earth could be happening at six fifty-five in the morning? I don't care to know though, I need to get ready else I won't beat the rush. The indistinct chatter is drowned out as the shower hisses at me.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three huge knocks reverberate around the house. Is somebody at the door?
"Just coming," I say to the mysterious occurrence.
I run down the stairs and peep through the looking hole, carefully using one hand to train my eye and the other to hold my fashioned towel-toga.
The man, and his army, looked back. Over two hundred and three folks by my quick estimation all stood facing my abode, my little castle. Their leader, the man on my front step, raises one empty hand and a hushed silence beckons over the assorted concierges. After a small delay as the one or two stragglers reach a strangled silence, he raises his other -- in it a paper. I creek open the door onto the chain.
"Sir, any comment on this fortuity which has befell you on what will surely be remembered as a seminal day?" He pushes a small pocket microphone through the opening.
Sweat beads on my cheeks, my lips feel cracked, my head feels hollow. I'm going to faint, I feel sick, I feel alone, I'm out of my depth.
"Sir, any comment?"
I fall to the floor.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "You sent them. You endanger us. Traitor."
"Please. Please, listen." Begging was alien to my employers but I had been away too long. "They have been finding new life for years, it wasn't me, I know how it seems but she gave..."
Communications closed for the final time. I picked up the glass tablet and threw it to the floor, kneeling alone in the shards, sobbing and surprised at my human reaction. It would be just minutes until my extermination.
My research was the first of it's kind; a long term and subtle integration into human life. Most were frightened of Earth but, like my sister, I found fascination in the unusual and intricate lives here. I looked down at the pieces of glass and shut my eyes, remembering our last day together.
"Happy first birthday! I know, I know...but it technically is and gifts are just such a cute, innately human tradition, aren't they!" She smiled expectantly, as I frowned and fiddled with the tape.
She had only arrived for a visit but, with her lifelong love of all things human, had made the transition look easy. A whole year and I was struggling with sticky tape.
"Jacob Bacon" I read aloud from the glass tablet, still enjoying the sound of my chosen name. A familiar map was etched into the glass and I ran a thumb around the circle in the centre. "Owner of Planet..."
"Home!" she interrupted, laughing her human laugh expertly. "How funny is that! Humans are now selling planets and you, Bacon, own ours."
I opened my damp eyes and began to collect the pieces of broken glass around me, standing and arranging them on the table next to the morning's paper.
The headline "New life found" wasn't too uncommon for Earth and I hadn't read it yet. But once the Planet Deeds were released, the news became big. "Bacon gives life!" the TV presenters grinned. "Of course intelligent life would live on Bacon, Paula. I myself live on bacon. Thank you, Jacob Bacon!"
I watched in horror at the discovery of my kind, my planet, the planet that Earth thought I owned. And then the communication had come.
Still standing, I pulled at strips of tape and tried to stick the pieces of glass back together. I ran my thumb across the map, slicing my skin on an edge of glass, my human blood running into the circular groove. My planet.
| Lady picks up newspaper, reads headline: 'LIFE DISCOVERED ON *EXOPLANET-491*!' She throws it to the ground and walks away.
I roll over in bed, five more minutes would be nice. This duvet is so warm and comfortable, I can be five minutes late and the boss won't moan, it's nearly Christmas after all. But when I close my eyes, I do not feel the embrace of silence. I hear shouting outside of my window, I cannot make out what they are saying and it begins to become annoying. The sound grows as I lie under the covers, so much for a little longer in bed before my shift at Brinkely's observatory. Begrudgingly I jump up and drape a long tee over my shoulders. What on earth could be happening at six fifty-five in the morning? I don't care to know though, I need to get ready else I won't beat the rush. The indistinct chatter is drowned out as the shower hisses at me.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three huge knocks reverberate around the house. Is somebody at the door?
"Just coming," I say to the mysterious occurrence.
I run down the stairs and peep through the looking hole, carefully using one hand to train my eye and the other to hold my fashioned towel-toga.
The man, and his army, looked back. Over two hundred and three folks by my quick estimation all stood facing my abode, my little castle. Their leader, the man on my front step, raises one empty hand and a hushed silence beckons over the assorted concierges. After a small delay as the one or two stragglers reach a strangled silence, he raises his other -- in it a paper. I creek open the door onto the chain.
"Sir, any comment on this fortuity which has befell you on what will surely be remembered as a seminal day?" He pushes a small pocket microphone through the opening.
Sweat beads on my cheeks, my lips feel cracked, my head feels hollow. I'm going to faint, I feel sick, I feel alone, I'm out of my depth.
"Sir, any comment?"
I fall to the floor.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | There was a singular present on the table, a holo-document. Being my 30th birthday I expected something more but we were a family of meager means so whatever it was I was sure to like it.
My mother and father were staring at me expectantly, I put on my best smile and clicked the button on the side, as it whirled to life I looked at the holo in front of me, it was a deed to a planet.
I was disappointed but feigned happiness and thanked my parents for the gift while wondering in my head how I was supposed to get any use out of a planetary deed, it's not like it had life right?
I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door, it was my parents and they looked really excited, "did we win the lottery or something?" I asked them.
"Close" my mother replied
I gestured them into my apartment so they could tell me this apparently fantastic news.
"Turn on the TV!" my mother exclaimed
I did so and to my amazement, my planet had life on it!
I thought to myself, that this has to be some kind of joke, planetary deeds are a novelty,
Their not supposed to have life on them!
As I sat there aghast for a short time my mother and father were prancing around my apartment, apparently not realizing the real meaning of the situation.
Needing some time to think about what I was going to do about this, I got up and exited my apartment and sat outside on my front stairs, looking up at the stars from our glass domed city.
I wouldn't even know what to do with 1000 bitcoins much less an entire planet...
I suppose I could try to fly there and check it out but what if they don't like me?
What if I can't understand their language?
So many questions and no definite answers....
I got up and took a deep breath of the oxygenated air to calm myself and strided back into the room to find that my mother and father were still prancing about.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and told them bluntly, "we're going to my new planet!"
My mom and dad made some high pitched squeals but stopped for a second after seemingly realizing something,
"How are we getting there?" My dad asked
"Well, I'm the ruler of an entire planet now, they have to let us go there!"
A couple days later we flew out by rocket and visited the planet, it was a very harsh place, dry, cracked and ice in place of water.
How any species could be living here I didn't know.
Sure enough though, in the distance was a town built out of a type of metal no one on earth had seen before.
It was shiny like gold, but at the same time, it had a pattern like that of tree bark and it was a bluish gray color.
The inhabitants living there didn't seem too different from humans, save for extended heads, tentacles in place of hair and eyes the color of sulfur.
Trying to communicate with them was also quite easy.
They happened to be a telepathic species and were fascinated by me and my family, looking us up and down, meticulously examining us like we were display pieces for their living rooms.
Everything was going fine, better than fine even, until I revealed that I was the one who now owned their planet, instead of them being fascinated, they were now afraid.
They ran into their houses and locked their doors like you would see in an old Western.
Me and parents decided to leave at that point, we didn't want to be seen as monsters and I realized I wasn't prepared to be in a position of power.
When we returned home, we acted like nothing happened, i still have the holo deed in my home to this day, maybe one day I'll return there but for now, life on earth as an ordinary man suits me just fine. | Lady picks up newspaper, reads headline: 'LIFE DISCOVERED ON *EXOPLANET-491*!' She throws it to the ground and walks away.
I roll over in bed, five more minutes would be nice. This duvet is so warm and comfortable, I can be five minutes late and the boss won't moan, it's nearly Christmas after all. But when I close my eyes, I do not feel the embrace of silence. I hear shouting outside of my window, I cannot make out what they are saying and it begins to become annoying. The sound grows as I lie under the covers, so much for a little longer in bed before my shift at Brinkely's observatory. Begrudgingly I jump up and drape a long tee over my shoulders. What on earth could be happening at six fifty-five in the morning? I don't care to know though, I need to get ready else I won't beat the rush. The indistinct chatter is drowned out as the shower hisses at me.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three huge knocks reverberate around the house. Is somebody at the door?
"Just coming," I say to the mysterious occurrence.
I run down the stairs and peep through the looking hole, carefully using one hand to train my eye and the other to hold my fashioned towel-toga.
The man, and his army, looked back. Over two hundred and three folks by my quick estimation all stood facing my abode, my little castle. Their leader, the man on my front step, raises one empty hand and a hushed silence beckons over the assorted concierges. After a small delay as the one or two stragglers reach a strangled silence, he raises his other -- in it a paper. I creek open the door onto the chain.
"Sir, any comment on this fortuity which has befell you on what will surely be remembered as a seminal day?" He pushes a small pocket microphone through the opening.
Sweat beads on my cheeks, my lips feel cracked, my head feels hollow. I'm going to faint, I feel sick, I feel alone, I'm out of my depth.
"Sir, any comment?"
I fall to the floor.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "Hell yeah bro! Did I just get a planet with life?"
"Yeah man shit is live, are you gonna enslave them?"
"Probably. Apparently I own the planet now. I heard the most advanced life forms there resemble primitive humans. So we are like, way more advanced then them."
"I say we take a hunting trip this weekend."
"What ship are we taking?"
"Let's take yours, i don't wanna drive."
"Bruh, what do you mean drive. We have autopilot, lets just smoke some loud while we voyage the cosmos. Enjoy the ride man, the hunt begins soon!"
-6 hours pass and our adventurers finally arrive on the mysterious planet, the two men, appear clumsy and stoned.-
"Yeet man, I figured we could use the rail guns to hunt them, but honestly I think the m82 would be more fun."
"Dang you gonna quickscope some Neanderthals, or what?"
"Yeah man, hit that YY ladder stall!"
"Alright fuck it let's do this shit."
I load the m82, the gun feels heavier than I remember. Must be from using all the newer weapons. Lightweight designs, perfect functionality. It's nice to feel the heaviness of a classic sniper rifle, a pleasant contrast to the newer tech. I missed the feeling.
We were both strapped, Robbie choosing to go with a rail gun and a small pistol, myself the sniper and a double barreled shotgun. Something about classic guns must get me off.
We step out of the ship, into a familiar setting. Woods. The biome we arrived in was frosted over. Temperature read somewhere around -30 degrees. I'll let you decide what metric.
"So what exactly are we hunting?"
I glance over and meet Robbie's gaze. Eyes glassy, he's high.
"Well I'd say-
My sentence is interrupted without even a second to reconcile, Robbie's throat is punctured. He drops to his knees, his hands fumbling at the thick wooden spear, halfway through his throat.
| Lady picks up newspaper, reads headline: 'LIFE DISCOVERED ON *EXOPLANET-491*!' She throws it to the ground and walks away.
I roll over in bed, five more minutes would be nice. This duvet is so warm and comfortable, I can be five minutes late and the boss won't moan, it's nearly Christmas after all. But when I close my eyes, I do not feel the embrace of silence. I hear shouting outside of my window, I cannot make out what they are saying and it begins to become annoying. The sound grows as I lie under the covers, so much for a little longer in bed before my shift at Brinkely's observatory. Begrudgingly I jump up and drape a long tee over my shoulders. What on earth could be happening at six fifty-five in the morning? I don't care to know though, I need to get ready else I won't beat the rush. The indistinct chatter is drowned out as the shower hisses at me.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three huge knocks reverberate around the house. Is somebody at the door?
"Just coming," I say to the mysterious occurrence.
I run down the stairs and peep through the looking hole, carefully using one hand to train my eye and the other to hold my fashioned towel-toga.
The man, and his army, looked back. Over two hundred and three folks by my quick estimation all stood facing my abode, my little castle. Their leader, the man on my front step, raises one empty hand and a hushed silence beckons over the assorted concierges. After a small delay as the one or two stragglers reach a strangled silence, he raises his other -- in it a paper. I creek open the door onto the chain.
"Sir, any comment on this fortuity which has befell you on what will surely be remembered as a seminal day?" He pushes a small pocket microphone through the opening.
Sweat beads on my cheeks, my lips feel cracked, my head feels hollow. I'm going to faint, I feel sick, I feel alone, I'm out of my depth.
"Sir, any comment?"
I fall to the floor.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder. | Lady picks up newspaper, reads headline: 'LIFE DISCOVERED ON *EXOPLANET-491*!' She throws it to the ground and walks away.
I roll over in bed, five more minutes would be nice. This duvet is so warm and comfortable, I can be five minutes late and the boss won't moan, it's nearly Christmas after all. But when I close my eyes, I do not feel the embrace of silence. I hear shouting outside of my window, I cannot make out what they are saying and it begins to become annoying. The sound grows as I lie under the covers, so much for a little longer in bed before my shift at Brinkely's observatory. Begrudgingly I jump up and drape a long tee over my shoulders. What on earth could be happening at six fifty-five in the morning? I don't care to know though, I need to get ready else I won't beat the rush. The indistinct chatter is drowned out as the shower hisses at me.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three huge knocks reverberate around the house. Is somebody at the door?
"Just coming," I say to the mysterious occurrence.
I run down the stairs and peep through the looking hole, carefully using one hand to train my eye and the other to hold my fashioned towel-toga.
The man, and his army, looked back. Over two hundred and three folks by my quick estimation all stood facing my abode, my little castle. Their leader, the man on my front step, raises one empty hand and a hushed silence beckons over the assorted concierges. After a small delay as the one or two stragglers reach a strangled silence, he raises his other -- in it a paper. I creek open the door onto the chain.
"Sir, any comment on this fortuity which has befell you on what will surely be remembered as a seminal day?" He pushes a small pocket microphone through the opening.
Sweat beads on my cheeks, my lips feel cracked, my head feels hollow. I'm going to faint, I feel sick, I feel alone, I'm out of my depth.
"Sir, any comment?"
I fall to the floor.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | Lady picks up newspaper, reads headline: 'LIFE DISCOVERED ON *EXOPLANET-491*!' She throws it to the ground and walks away.
I roll over in bed, five more minutes would be nice. This duvet is so warm and comfortable, I can be five minutes late and the boss won't moan, it's nearly Christmas after all. But when I close my eyes, I do not feel the embrace of silence. I hear shouting outside of my window, I cannot make out what they are saying and it begins to become annoying. The sound grows as I lie under the covers, so much for a little longer in bed before my shift at Brinkely's observatory. Begrudgingly I jump up and drape a long tee over my shoulders. What on earth could be happening at six fifty-five in the morning? I don't care to know though, I need to get ready else I won't beat the rush. The indistinct chatter is drowned out as the shower hisses at me.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three huge knocks reverberate around the house. Is somebody at the door?
"Just coming," I say to the mysterious occurrence.
I run down the stairs and peep through the looking hole, carefully using one hand to train my eye and the other to hold my fashioned towel-toga.
The man, and his army, looked back. Over two hundred and three folks by my quick estimation all stood facing my abode, my little castle. Their leader, the man on my front step, raises one empty hand and a hushed silence beckons over the assorted concierges. After a small delay as the one or two stragglers reach a strangled silence, he raises his other -- in it a paper. I creek open the door onto the chain.
"Sir, any comment on this fortuity which has befell you on what will surely be remembered as a seminal day?" He pushes a small pocket microphone through the opening.
Sweat beads on my cheeks, my lips feel cracked, my head feels hollow. I'm going to faint, I feel sick, I feel alone, I'm out of my depth.
"Sir, any comment?"
I fall to the floor.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Crusoe remembers the day well, the 34 years that has taken him to get to this point in his journey seem to have had no effect on his memory. He recalls getting Planet 2471, as a birthday present. His sixteenth birthday, while most kids his age were getting their first car, Crusoe got the deed to an exoplanet. He remembers the disappointing feeling he had opening the small box, he had hoped contained the keys to his first car. He remembers the excitement he felt when it was announced that intelligent, but primitive, life had been found on Terra, the name he had given his planet. He named it after his older sister, who had left him an only child the previous summer.
"Terra," the letter read, "Has an abundance of life very similar to that of what we have here at home. Carbon based life, an oxygen rich atmosphere, and water covers most of its surface. We will be sending a team of our planets most brilliant young minds to study the life and work along side the natives as ambassadors. You have been chosen, as the deed holder of this planet, to go on this adventure of a lifetime... there will be no sleeping pods, as we need you to be in constant contact with the host planet..."
Crusoe folded up the letter and placed it neatly back in his front breast pocket. It had been nearly 35 years ago since he first opened it. His father was not pleased in his decision to go on the expedition. Crusoe often wished he had heeded his fathers advice. "Deep space is no place for a young boy." His father's words echoed clearly in his memory, "You're all that I have left." Yet all Crusoe had left was his need to get as far away as he possibly could. This was his opportunity.
34 years, 256 days, 19 hours, and 56 minutes had passed since the crew departed. Out of the crew of 40, only 6 remained. Cancer took The crew leader only 4 years into the journey, a fire in the barracks claimed the lives of 21 more, and destroyed nearly half of the supplies they had. Two suicides, and a case of the flu done away with the rest. Without the proper medical supplies it was a wonder any of them had made it this far.
"Crusoe," Paul Louis interrupted Crusoe's day dream, "its time."
"Sorry, Paul," Crusoe said, "It is almost surreal we finally made it."
Paul smiled a cooked smile, "I know, but we have a job to do," he said as he entered the landing pod. "Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?"
Crusoe began to gear up, his heart was racing and his hands were shaking furiously, making it difficult to dawn his gear. When he finally found his seat in the pod, his nerves had calmed and left him feeling numb.
"Preparing to enter the atmosphere," an automated voice echoed. Crusoe braced himself and looked out the window to view his new home, really seeing it for the first time.
"What's the name of the settlement where we'll be landing at again?" Crusoe asked, Paul, as they began their decent.
"Area 51, is what the natives call it. Their leader, John, said it would be the safest place for us. Apparently, not everyone is as excited for our arrival as we anticipated," Paul said.
Edit: formatting x2
PART 2:
Crusoe, Paul, and the rest of the crew were growing restless. It had been weeks since their arrival, and they haven't been allowed to leave the facility once.
"I thought we were supposed to work together." Dana said to no one in particular.
"Be patient, Dana," Paul said, "We're their guest. They have procedures, just like we do at home. You can't just have an alien race come in an establish itself. Especially when they're still a primitive race." He looked at what he knew was a two way mirror on the other end of the room. "They want us to help them leave their atmosphere, and as ambassadors to or home planet, it's our duty to help our new allies. As long as we don't give them too much at one time, they will be able to do so without much speculation of our interference. They're almost there, after all. I've seen their blueprints. They resemble our early spacecraft."
Crusoe just sat in silence, like he had so many times before, lost in thought. This wasn't what he had in mind when he read "adventure of a lifetime" on that letter. He had spent the last 34 years learning the native tongue, not that it mattered much. The creatures that inhabited this planet weren't much for listening. Apparently there was a Great War just before their arrival. So much for peaceful beings. In all of their communication with us they left us in the dark on the state of their violent nature.
Paul just shrugged it off, "They're still learning," is what he said, "They have good intentions."
"Good intentions for who?" Thought Crusoe, "I'm sure the insect like creatures from the planet Omega, had good intentions when they breached the intergalactic peace treaty, and all but wiped out half of the known life in the universe. Sucking up all of their host planet's natural resources, before meeting their own demise when the intergalactic senate voted on their extermination. Their intentions were only good for them, and that's the way these creatures are wired. Crusoe just had a sinking feeling in his gut about all of this now.
"How are you all doing this morning?" Agent Smith said walking into the room. He was wearing the same black suit and tie Crusoe seen everyone wear on this planet, and he also wore a smirk on his face that said, "You're a fool for trusting us." But Crusoe was no fool, and there was at least one other person in his crew that held these mutual feelings.
"It's cold in here." Replied Dana. Despite being in what they called a hot environment, it was still too cold for our liking.
"I've got the heat as high as it will go, Dana." Agent Smith replied, "would you like another blanket?"
"Yes, please." Said Dana.
Agent Smith called over his radio for someone to fetch a blanket for Dana. "Now, Paul, have you modified the blueprints for the rocket as we asked?"
"They're right here," said Paul, "Are you still planning on making the announcement of our arrival to the rest of the planet?"
"Absolutely," Agent Smith said with the same crooked smile, "Just as soon as our leader, John, returns from a parade. See, it would look awfully fishy if he were to miss a scheduled event, and he must keep appearances up with his people."
"Understandable." Paul said handing the blueprints over. Politics were something the entire universe could understand.
"Thank you," Smith said with condescending tone. "If you need anything just give me a call, John is expected to fly in this afternoon."
So there we sat, awaiting John and his staff to give a formal welcome and make the announcement to his people of our arrival. I was dozing in and out of sleep when I heard a commotion. "Come with me now!" Agent Smith's voice rang. "We have to get you all to a safer place!"
Crusoe didn't trust him, but there was a panic in his voice that made Crusoe instinctively follow him out the door, and to an armored vehicle towards the back of the facility. The double doors slammed shut behind them as they entered the vehicle. "John is dead," Smith said with a grave tone, "he was shot, in what we suspect, was an intelligence breach of your arrival. Our enemies want you and your technology."
"And you don't?" Crusoe's words pierced the air.
"We want it for a different reason," Smith said almost pleading, "Our intentions are pure, we want to maintain peace on our planet, and your technology can help us do that."
"Or it could help you gain absolute control here," replied Crusoe. "Who's to say you're not the evil ones? We've been here for weeks and you've kept us on a tight leash. You want it all for yourselves."
"Silence," Said Paul. "You're making a fool of yourself Crusoe, Smith is just trying to help us," he looked towards Smith, "aren't you?"
"Absolutely," Smith said. "I understand your concern, but we want to take the next step into being a peaceful member of the galactic senate."
Crusoe could see Dana rolling her eye in defiance. He had to find a way to talk to her in private. If Paul wasn't going to stop defending these violent creatures, it would have to be up to Dana and himself to stop him before it was too late, for not only the crew, but the entire universe.
I wasn't sure where to write a part two. So I just replied to the original story. Hope you all like it.
| Lady picks up newspaper, reads headline: 'LIFE DISCOVERED ON *EXOPLANET-491*!' She throws it to the ground and walks away.
I roll over in bed, five more minutes would be nice. This duvet is so warm and comfortable, I can be five minutes late and the boss won't moan, it's nearly Christmas after all. But when I close my eyes, I do not feel the embrace of silence. I hear shouting outside of my window, I cannot make out what they are saying and it begins to become annoying. The sound grows as I lie under the covers, so much for a little longer in bed before my shift at Brinkely's observatory. Begrudgingly I jump up and drape a long tee over my shoulders. What on earth could be happening at six fifty-five in the morning? I don't care to know though, I need to get ready else I won't beat the rush. The indistinct chatter is drowned out as the shower hisses at me.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Three huge knocks reverberate around the house. Is somebody at the door?
"Just coming," I say to the mysterious occurrence.
I run down the stairs and peep through the looking hole, carefully using one hand to train my eye and the other to hold my fashioned towel-toga.
The man, and his army, looked back. Over two hundred and three folks by my quick estimation all stood facing my abode, my little castle. Their leader, the man on my front step, raises one empty hand and a hushed silence beckons over the assorted concierges. After a small delay as the one or two stragglers reach a strangled silence, he raises his other -- in it a paper. I creek open the door onto the chain.
"Sir, any comment on this fortuity which has befell you on what will surely be remembered as a seminal day?" He pushes a small pocket microphone through the opening.
Sweat beads on my cheeks, my lips feel cracked, my head feels hollow. I'm going to faint, I feel sick, I feel alone, I'm out of my depth.
"Sir, any comment?"
I fall to the floor.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | "Hell yeah bro! Did I just get a planet with life?"
"Yeah man shit is live, are you gonna enslave them?"
"Probably. Apparently I own the planet now. I heard the most advanced life forms there resemble primitive humans. So we are like, way more advanced then them."
"I say we take a hunting trip this weekend."
"What ship are we taking?"
"Let's take yours, i don't wanna drive."
"Bruh, what do you mean drive. We have autopilot, lets just smoke some loud while we voyage the cosmos. Enjoy the ride man, the hunt begins soon!"
-6 hours pass and our adventurers finally arrive on the mysterious planet, the two men, appear clumsy and stoned.-
"Yeet man, I figured we could use the rail guns to hunt them, but honestly I think the m82 would be more fun."
"Dang you gonna quickscope some Neanderthals, or what?"
"Yeah man, hit that YY ladder stall!"
"Alright fuck it let's do this shit."
I load the m82, the gun feels heavier than I remember. Must be from using all the newer weapons. Lightweight designs, perfect functionality. It's nice to feel the heaviness of a classic sniper rifle, a pleasant contrast to the newer tech. I missed the feeling.
We were both strapped, Robbie choosing to go with a rail gun and a small pistol, myself the sniper and a double barreled shotgun. Something about classic guns must get me off.
We step out of the ship, into a familiar setting. Woods. The biome we arrived in was frosted over. Temperature read somewhere around -30 degrees. I'll let you decide what metric.
"So what exactly are we hunting?"
I glance over and meet Robbie's gaze. Eyes glassy, he's high.
"Well I'd say-
My sentence is interrupted without even a second to reconcile, Robbie's throat is punctured. He drops to his knees, his hands fumbling at the thick wooden spear, halfway through his throat.
| There was a singular present on the table, a holo-document. Being my 30th birthday I expected something more but we were a family of meager means so whatever it was I was sure to like it.
My mother and father were staring at me expectantly, I put on my best smile and clicked the button on the side, as it whirled to life I looked at the holo in front of me, it was a deed to a planet.
I was disappointed but feigned happiness and thanked my parents for the gift while wondering in my head how I was supposed to get any use out of a planetary deed, it's not like it had life right?
I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door, it was my parents and they looked really excited, "did we win the lottery or something?" I asked them.
"Close" my mother replied
I gestured them into my apartment so they could tell me this apparently fantastic news.
"Turn on the TV!" my mother exclaimed
I did so and to my amazement, my planet had life on it!
I thought to myself, that this has to be some kind of joke, planetary deeds are a novelty,
Their not supposed to have life on them!
As I sat there aghast for a short time my mother and father were prancing around my apartment, apparently not realizing the real meaning of the situation.
Needing some time to think about what I was going to do about this, I got up and exited my apartment and sat outside on my front stairs, looking up at the stars from our glass domed city.
I wouldn't even know what to do with 1000 bitcoins much less an entire planet...
I suppose I could try to fly there and check it out but what if they don't like me?
What if I can't understand their language?
So many questions and no definite answers....
I got up and took a deep breath of the oxygenated air to calm myself and strided back into the room to find that my mother and father were still prancing about.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and told them bluntly, "we're going to my new planet!"
My mom and dad made some high pitched squeals but stopped for a second after seemingly realizing something,
"How are we getting there?" My dad asked
"Well, I'm the ruler of an entire planet now, they have to let us go there!"
A couple days later we flew out by rocket and visited the planet, it was a very harsh place, dry, cracked and ice in place of water.
How any species could be living here I didn't know.
Sure enough though, in the distance was a town built out of a type of metal no one on earth had seen before.
It was shiny like gold, but at the same time, it had a pattern like that of tree bark and it was a bluish gray color.
The inhabitants living there didn't seem too different from humans, save for extended heads, tentacles in place of hair and eyes the color of sulfur.
Trying to communicate with them was also quite easy.
They happened to be a telepathic species and were fascinated by me and my family, looking us up and down, meticulously examining us like we were display pieces for their living rooms.
Everything was going fine, better than fine even, until I revealed that I was the one who now owned their planet, instead of them being fascinated, they were now afraid.
They ran into their houses and locked their doors like you would see in an old Western.
Me and parents decided to leave at that point, we didn't want to be seen as monsters and I realized I wasn't prepared to be in a position of power.
When we returned home, we acted like nothing happened, i still have the holo deed in my home to this day, maybe one day I'll return there but for now, life on earth as an ordinary man suits me just fine. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder. | There was a singular present on the table, a holo-document. Being my 30th birthday I expected something more but we were a family of meager means so whatever it was I was sure to like it.
My mother and father were staring at me expectantly, I put on my best smile and clicked the button on the side, as it whirled to life I looked at the holo in front of me, it was a deed to a planet.
I was disappointed but feigned happiness and thanked my parents for the gift while wondering in my head how I was supposed to get any use out of a planetary deed, it's not like it had life right?
I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door, it was my parents and they looked really excited, "did we win the lottery or something?" I asked them.
"Close" my mother replied
I gestured them into my apartment so they could tell me this apparently fantastic news.
"Turn on the TV!" my mother exclaimed
I did so and to my amazement, my planet had life on it!
I thought to myself, that this has to be some kind of joke, planetary deeds are a novelty,
Their not supposed to have life on them!
As I sat there aghast for a short time my mother and father were prancing around my apartment, apparently not realizing the real meaning of the situation.
Needing some time to think about what I was going to do about this, I got up and exited my apartment and sat outside on my front stairs, looking up at the stars from our glass domed city.
I wouldn't even know what to do with 1000 bitcoins much less an entire planet...
I suppose I could try to fly there and check it out but what if they don't like me?
What if I can't understand their language?
So many questions and no definite answers....
I got up and took a deep breath of the oxygenated air to calm myself and strided back into the room to find that my mother and father were still prancing about.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and told them bluntly, "we're going to my new planet!"
My mom and dad made some high pitched squeals but stopped for a second after seemingly realizing something,
"How are we getting there?" My dad asked
"Well, I'm the ruler of an entire planet now, they have to let us go there!"
A couple days later we flew out by rocket and visited the planet, it was a very harsh place, dry, cracked and ice in place of water.
How any species could be living here I didn't know.
Sure enough though, in the distance was a town built out of a type of metal no one on earth had seen before.
It was shiny like gold, but at the same time, it had a pattern like that of tree bark and it was a bluish gray color.
The inhabitants living there didn't seem too different from humans, save for extended heads, tentacles in place of hair and eyes the color of sulfur.
Trying to communicate with them was also quite easy.
They happened to be a telepathic species and were fascinated by me and my family, looking us up and down, meticulously examining us like we were display pieces for their living rooms.
Everything was going fine, better than fine even, until I revealed that I was the one who now owned their planet, instead of them being fascinated, they were now afraid.
They ran into their houses and locked their doors like you would see in an old Western.
Me and parents decided to leave at that point, we didn't want to be seen as monsters and I realized I wasn't prepared to be in a position of power.
When we returned home, we acted like nothing happened, i still have the holo deed in my home to this day, maybe one day I'll return there but for now, life on earth as an ordinary man suits me just fine. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | There was a singular present on the table, a holo-document. Being my 30th birthday I expected something more but we were a family of meager means so whatever it was I was sure to like it.
My mother and father were staring at me expectantly, I put on my best smile and clicked the button on the side, as it whirled to life I looked at the holo in front of me, it was a deed to a planet.
I was disappointed but feigned happiness and thanked my parents for the gift while wondering in my head how I was supposed to get any use out of a planetary deed, it's not like it had life right?
I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door, it was my parents and they looked really excited, "did we win the lottery or something?" I asked them.
"Close" my mother replied
I gestured them into my apartment so they could tell me this apparently fantastic news.
"Turn on the TV!" my mother exclaimed
I did so and to my amazement, my planet had life on it!
I thought to myself, that this has to be some kind of joke, planetary deeds are a novelty,
Their not supposed to have life on them!
As I sat there aghast for a short time my mother and father were prancing around my apartment, apparently not realizing the real meaning of the situation.
Needing some time to think about what I was going to do about this, I got up and exited my apartment and sat outside on my front stairs, looking up at the stars from our glass domed city.
I wouldn't even know what to do with 1000 bitcoins much less an entire planet...
I suppose I could try to fly there and check it out but what if they don't like me?
What if I can't understand their language?
So many questions and no definite answers....
I got up and took a deep breath of the oxygenated air to calm myself and strided back into the room to find that my mother and father were still prancing about.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and told them bluntly, "we're going to my new planet!"
My mom and dad made some high pitched squeals but stopped for a second after seemingly realizing something,
"How are we getting there?" My dad asked
"Well, I'm the ruler of an entire planet now, they have to let us go there!"
A couple days later we flew out by rocket and visited the planet, it was a very harsh place, dry, cracked and ice in place of water.
How any species could be living here I didn't know.
Sure enough though, in the distance was a town built out of a type of metal no one on earth had seen before.
It was shiny like gold, but at the same time, it had a pattern like that of tree bark and it was a bluish gray color.
The inhabitants living there didn't seem too different from humans, save for extended heads, tentacles in place of hair and eyes the color of sulfur.
Trying to communicate with them was also quite easy.
They happened to be a telepathic species and were fascinated by me and my family, looking us up and down, meticulously examining us like we were display pieces for their living rooms.
Everything was going fine, better than fine even, until I revealed that I was the one who now owned their planet, instead of them being fascinated, they were now afraid.
They ran into their houses and locked their doors like you would see in an old Western.
Me and parents decided to leave at that point, we didn't want to be seen as monsters and I realized I wasn't prepared to be in a position of power.
When we returned home, we acted like nothing happened, i still have the holo deed in my home to this day, maybe one day I'll return there but for now, life on earth as an ordinary man suits me just fine. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder. | "Hell yeah bro! Did I just get a planet with life?"
"Yeah man shit is live, are you gonna enslave them?"
"Probably. Apparently I own the planet now. I heard the most advanced life forms there resemble primitive humans. So we are like, way more advanced then them."
"I say we take a hunting trip this weekend."
"What ship are we taking?"
"Let's take yours, i don't wanna drive."
"Bruh, what do you mean drive. We have autopilot, lets just smoke some loud while we voyage the cosmos. Enjoy the ride man, the hunt begins soon!"
-6 hours pass and our adventurers finally arrive on the mysterious planet, the two men, appear clumsy and stoned.-
"Yeet man, I figured we could use the rail guns to hunt them, but honestly I think the m82 would be more fun."
"Dang you gonna quickscope some Neanderthals, or what?"
"Yeah man, hit that YY ladder stall!"
"Alright fuck it let's do this shit."
I load the m82, the gun feels heavier than I remember. Must be from using all the newer weapons. Lightweight designs, perfect functionality. It's nice to feel the heaviness of a classic sniper rifle, a pleasant contrast to the newer tech. I missed the feeling.
We were both strapped, Robbie choosing to go with a rail gun and a small pistol, myself the sniper and a double barreled shotgun. Something about classic guns must get me off.
We step out of the ship, into a familiar setting. Woods. The biome we arrived in was frosted over. Temperature read somewhere around -30 degrees. I'll let you decide what metric.
"So what exactly are we hunting?"
I glance over and meet Robbie's gaze. Eyes glassy, he's high.
"Well I'd say-
My sentence is interrupted without even a second to reconcile, Robbie's throat is punctured. He drops to his knees, his hands fumbling at the thick wooden spear, halfway through his throat.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | "Hell yeah bro! Did I just get a planet with life?"
"Yeah man shit is live, are you gonna enslave them?"
"Probably. Apparently I own the planet now. I heard the most advanced life forms there resemble primitive humans. So we are like, way more advanced then them."
"I say we take a hunting trip this weekend."
"What ship are we taking?"
"Let's take yours, i don't wanna drive."
"Bruh, what do you mean drive. We have autopilot, lets just smoke some loud while we voyage the cosmos. Enjoy the ride man, the hunt begins soon!"
-6 hours pass and our adventurers finally arrive on the mysterious planet, the two men, appear clumsy and stoned.-
"Yeet man, I figured we could use the rail guns to hunt them, but honestly I think the m82 would be more fun."
"Dang you gonna quickscope some Neanderthals, or what?"
"Yeah man, hit that YY ladder stall!"
"Alright fuck it let's do this shit."
I load the m82, the gun feels heavier than I remember. Must be from using all the newer weapons. Lightweight designs, perfect functionality. It's nice to feel the heaviness of a classic sniper rifle, a pleasant contrast to the newer tech. I missed the feeling.
We were both strapped, Robbie choosing to go with a rail gun and a small pistol, myself the sniper and a double barreled shotgun. Something about classic guns must get me off.
We step out of the ship, into a familiar setting. Woods. The biome we arrived in was frosted over. Temperature read somewhere around -30 degrees. I'll let you decide what metric.
"So what exactly are we hunting?"
I glance over and meet Robbie's gaze. Eyes glassy, he's high.
"Well I'd say-
My sentence is interrupted without even a second to reconcile, Robbie's throat is punctured. He drops to his knees, his hands fumbling at the thick wooden spear, halfway through his throat.
| |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder. | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | "Mom? Is this a joke?"
"What?"
"The deed. You saw the news, didn't you? There's life on Rigellion Five!"
"Wonderful news, Matt, just wonderful."
"What? No, it's not wonderful. Did you have any idea what you were giving me?"
"There are a lot of terms and conditions. I thought it would just be a nice little thing you could tuck away and show some nice girl someday. Or nice guy. Or nice alien."
"Mom. I called the company. There is a good chance you find life on these places--I asked them about it. You're supposed to use one of the bigger places; they actually *scan* for life before selling titles. Do you know what you've done to me?"
"Darling, it's just a fun little thing."
"No! It's a big thing. I'm a colonizer now. I've got to meet this life and make a judgment about it--whether to let it be or to save it, or kill it. You want to make me a murderer, Mom? Is that your idea of a Christmas present?"
"Son, there are places that will clean these up for you. Just call someone. Use my card number if you must."
"It's an ethical problem, Mom. Biggest one I've ever seen. Next time just don't send me anything, all right?"
"Matthew."
"I've got enough to deal with at work and with--uh, with myself right now."
"Are you seeing someone?"
"No." *You're not the only one who thrives on misinformation.*
"I'm sorry it upset you. I thought you'd like to have something to take care of. Maybe grow some kind of exotic garden or something. I want you to be happy, Matthew."
"This isn't some garden, Mom, it's a new world. And now I've got to take care of it."
"We've asked you about grandchildren. Before we're dead."
"Well, there's not going to be any time for that now," Matthew replied. "Wait--"
"Love you, Matthew. Dad says hi."
----------
r/GubbinalWrites | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Gina sat beside me, quivering with delight but I felt numb and removed from the world, as if I was in some sort of half coma. Gina's voice is all echoey and distant and it was only when she bit my wrist that I came out of my trance.
"Ouch. Gina!"
"Get up and dance with me. Come on! Why aren't you excited?! Do you realise what this means at all?"
"Um..." I felt dizzy, and it took all my willpower not to bury my head into the sofa.
"Oh my goodness. OH MY GOODNESS! I can't believe it! And it's your planet, *our* planet! Can you imagine?"
A chilly wind blew in from the open window, and when I looked through it at the sky, looking for some kind of touch with reality, something to bring me back to earth, it was cloudy, forbidding and not at all reassuring.
"It's going to rain," I said quietly, but Gina wasn't listening, she was jumping up and down and fighting the air and moving to the bar to get us drinks.
"Drinking isn't *even* on par with my excitement," she said when she returned with two beer bottles. "Like you have no idea! Oh, look, Aganji sent me a text! And Jane and Terry. Wow, I've got like 30 messages. And... they're all congratulatory! Check your phone I bet you got loads! Why aren't you excited, you're killing my mood here!"
She gave me a nudge and I attempted to smile but it felt tense and fake and I hoped she wouldn't notice. This was all too much for me, I felt like the table and the TV (still showing the reporter who broke the news) and the armchair and refrigerator were moving towards me in this slow, taunting way.
"I'm going to lie down for a bit, if you don't mind," I said to Gina and her smile faltered but then, creepily, sprang back up almost at once, unable to help itself.
******
Apparently the exoplanet had life. And not even meagre life, not bacteria or some hardcore kind of insect, but real furry little things with 3 eyes and two legs and long slim bodies, quite like mongooses but with a glowy, surreal kind of air because their fur emitted light when they felt "intense emotions", the scientists said. I'm expected to be at a press conference, because I'm now like the president of that planet or something, and Gina will not hear anything about me not attending.
"Smile. Please," she said, when I was seconds away from being called on stage and I put on the best smile I could.
After a series of questions from excited reporters, which I answered awkwardly and in a cold sweat, they showed us, on a large screen at the front of the room, more footage of the creatures scuttling about on the rough terrain of my planet. It's weird that I felt nothing but revulsion and it must have shown on my face because Gina sent me a text reading "*Smile ffs!!!*".
When the video ended to a thundering round of applause, a reporter asked me if, given the choice, I would like to live with these animals. I answered before I could stop myself or look towards Gina for guidance.
"Uh, no. Never."
The reporters and photographers exchanged looks. I knew the best thing at this point, the smart thing, was to shut up but I continued anyway spurred on by a rage that, perhaps, was stoked from seeing the infuriatingly bemused expressions of the faces around me.
"I mean why would I want to live with weird little rats on a planet far from home? Why are we so intent on finding life on other planets when we haven't even explored most of our oceans? When we haven't learnt everything about life on our planet. I mean this whole title deeds on another planet is so stupid, I frankly only accepted one as a gift on my birthday to please my twin sister Gina so she, so we, could feel somehow important. You know: ruling a world and all that junk. I mean if we continue at this, finding far away planets, we're not going to come across furry cute little creatures but monsters that'll destroy us in a flash. Or worse: enslave us. So, honestly I find this whole thing stupid. Sorry."
There was such a deadly quiet in the room after I stopped fuming that I could hear the frantic heartbeat of the man sitting next to me on the stage. And when my phone beeped, signaling another message from Gina, it sounded like an explosion had gone off.
| "Mom? Is this a joke?"
"What?"
"The deed. You saw the news, didn't you? There's life on Rigellion Five!"
"Wonderful news, Matt, just wonderful."
"What? No, it's not wonderful. Did you have any idea what you were giving me?"
"There are a lot of terms and conditions. I thought it would just be a nice little thing you could tuck away and show some nice girl someday. Or nice guy. Or nice alien."
"Mom. I called the company. There is a good chance you find life on these places--I asked them about it. You're supposed to use one of the bigger places; they actually *scan* for life before selling titles. Do you know what you've done to me?"
"Darling, it's just a fun little thing."
"No! It's a big thing. I'm a colonizer now. I've got to meet this life and make a judgment about it--whether to let it be or to save it, or kill it. You want to make me a murderer, Mom? Is that your idea of a Christmas present?"
"Son, there are places that will clean these up for you. Just call someone. Use my card number if you must."
"It's an ethical problem, Mom. Biggest one I've ever seen. Next time just don't send me anything, all right?"
"Matthew."
"I've got enough to deal with at work and with--uh, with myself right now."
"Are you seeing someone?"
"No." *You're not the only one who thrives on misinformation.*
"I'm sorry it upset you. I thought you'd like to have something to take care of. Maybe grow some kind of exotic garden or something. I want you to be happy, Matthew."
"This isn't some garden, Mom, it's a new world. And now I've got to take care of it."
"We've asked you about grandchildren. Before we're dead."
"Well, there's not going to be any time for that now," Matthew replied. "Wait--"
"Love you, Matthew. Dad says hi."
----------
r/GubbinalWrites | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Crusoe remembers the day well, the 34 years that has taken him to get to this point in his journey seem to have had no effect on his memory. He recalls getting Planet 2471, as a birthday present. His sixteenth birthday, while most kids his age were getting their first car, Crusoe got the deed to an exoplanet. He remembers the disappointing feeling he had opening the small box, he had hoped contained the keys to his first car. He remembers the excitement he felt when it was announced that intelligent, but primitive, life had been found on Terra, the name he had given his planet. He named it after his older sister, who had left him an only child the previous summer.
"Terra," the letter read, "Has an abundance of life very similar to that of what we have here at home. Carbon based life, an oxygen rich atmosphere, and water covers most of its surface. We will be sending a team of our planets most brilliant young minds to study the life and work along side the natives as ambassadors. You have been chosen, as the deed holder of this planet, to go on this adventure of a lifetime... there will be no sleeping pods, as we need you to be in constant contact with the host planet..."
Crusoe folded up the letter and placed it neatly back in his front breast pocket. It had been nearly 35 years ago since he first opened it. His father was not pleased in his decision to go on the expedition. Crusoe often wished he had heeded his fathers advice. "Deep space is no place for a young boy." His father's words echoed clearly in his memory, "You're all that I have left." Yet all Crusoe had left was his need to get as far away as he possibly could. This was his opportunity.
34 years, 256 days, 19 hours, and 56 minutes had passed since the crew departed. Out of the crew of 40, only 6 remained. Cancer took The crew leader only 4 years into the journey, a fire in the barracks claimed the lives of 21 more, and destroyed nearly half of the supplies they had. Two suicides, and a case of the flu done away with the rest. Without the proper medical supplies it was a wonder any of them had made it this far.
"Crusoe," Paul Louis interrupted Crusoe's day dream, "its time."
"Sorry, Paul," Crusoe said, "It is almost surreal we finally made it."
Paul smiled a cooked smile, "I know, but we have a job to do," he said as he entered the landing pod. "Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?"
Crusoe began to gear up, his heart was racing and his hands were shaking furiously, making it difficult to dawn his gear. When he finally found his seat in the pod, his nerves had calmed and left him feeling numb.
"Preparing to enter the atmosphere," an automated voice echoed. Crusoe braced himself and looked out the window to view his new home, really seeing it for the first time.
"What's the name of the settlement where we'll be landing at again?" Crusoe asked, Paul, as they began their decent.
"Area 51, is what the natives call it. Their leader, John, said it would be the safest place for us. Apparently, not everyone is as excited for our arrival as we anticipated," Paul said.
Edit: formatting x2
PART 2:
Crusoe, Paul, and the rest of the crew were growing restless. It had been weeks since their arrival, and they haven't been allowed to leave the facility once.
"I thought we were supposed to work together." Dana said to no one in particular.
"Be patient, Dana," Paul said, "We're their guest. They have procedures, just like we do at home. You can't just have an alien race come in an establish itself. Especially when they're still a primitive race." He looked at what he knew was a two way mirror on the other end of the room. "They want us to help them leave their atmosphere, and as ambassadors to or home planet, it's our duty to help our new allies. As long as we don't give them too much at one time, they will be able to do so without much speculation of our interference. They're almost there, after all. I've seen their blueprints. They resemble our early spacecraft."
Crusoe just sat in silence, like he had so many times before, lost in thought. This wasn't what he had in mind when he read "adventure of a lifetime" on that letter. He had spent the last 34 years learning the native tongue, not that it mattered much. The creatures that inhabited this planet weren't much for listening. Apparently there was a Great War just before their arrival. So much for peaceful beings. In all of their communication with us they left us in the dark on the state of their violent nature.
Paul just shrugged it off, "They're still learning," is what he said, "They have good intentions."
"Good intentions for who?" Thought Crusoe, "I'm sure the insect like creatures from the planet Omega, had good intentions when they breached the intergalactic peace treaty, and all but wiped out half of the known life in the universe. Sucking up all of their host planet's natural resources, before meeting their own demise when the intergalactic senate voted on their extermination. Their intentions were only good for them, and that's the way these creatures are wired. Crusoe just had a sinking feeling in his gut about all of this now.
"How are you all doing this morning?" Agent Smith said walking into the room. He was wearing the same black suit and tie Crusoe seen everyone wear on this planet, and he also wore a smirk on his face that said, "You're a fool for trusting us." But Crusoe was no fool, and there was at least one other person in his crew that held these mutual feelings.
"It's cold in here." Replied Dana. Despite being in what they called a hot environment, it was still too cold for our liking.
"I've got the heat as high as it will go, Dana." Agent Smith replied, "would you like another blanket?"
"Yes, please." Said Dana.
Agent Smith called over his radio for someone to fetch a blanket for Dana. "Now, Paul, have you modified the blueprints for the rocket as we asked?"
"They're right here," said Paul, "Are you still planning on making the announcement of our arrival to the rest of the planet?"
"Absolutely," Agent Smith said with the same crooked smile, "Just as soon as our leader, John, returns from a parade. See, it would look awfully fishy if he were to miss a scheduled event, and he must keep appearances up with his people."
"Understandable." Paul said handing the blueprints over. Politics were something the entire universe could understand.
"Thank you," Smith said with condescending tone. "If you need anything just give me a call, John is expected to fly in this afternoon."
So there we sat, awaiting John and his staff to give a formal welcome and make the announcement to his people of our arrival. I was dozing in and out of sleep when I heard a commotion. "Come with me now!" Agent Smith's voice rang. "We have to get you all to a safer place!"
Crusoe didn't trust him, but there was a panic in his voice that made Crusoe instinctively follow him out the door, and to an armored vehicle towards the back of the facility. The double doors slammed shut behind them as they entered the vehicle. "John is dead," Smith said with a grave tone, "he was shot, in what we suspect, was an intelligence breach of your arrival. Our enemies want you and your technology."
"And you don't?" Crusoe's words pierced the air.
"We want it for a different reason," Smith said almost pleading, "Our intentions are pure, we want to maintain peace on our planet, and your technology can help us do that."
"Or it could help you gain absolute control here," replied Crusoe. "Who's to say you're not the evil ones? We've been here for weeks and you've kept us on a tight leash. You want it all for yourselves."
"Silence," Said Paul. "You're making a fool of yourself Crusoe, Smith is just trying to help us," he looked towards Smith, "aren't you?"
"Absolutely," Smith said. "I understand your concern, but we want to take the next step into being a peaceful member of the galactic senate."
Crusoe could see Dana rolling her eye in defiance. He had to find a way to talk to her in private. If Paul wasn't going to stop defending these violent creatures, it would have to be up to Dana and himself to stop him before it was too late, for not only the crew, but the entire universe.
I wasn't sure where to write a part two. So I just replied to the original story. Hope you all like it.
| "Mom? Is this a joke?"
"What?"
"The deed. You saw the news, didn't you? There's life on Rigellion Five!"
"Wonderful news, Matt, just wonderful."
"What? No, it's not wonderful. Did you have any idea what you were giving me?"
"There are a lot of terms and conditions. I thought it would just be a nice little thing you could tuck away and show some nice girl someday. Or nice guy. Or nice alien."
"Mom. I called the company. There is a good chance you find life on these places--I asked them about it. You're supposed to use one of the bigger places; they actually *scan* for life before selling titles. Do you know what you've done to me?"
"Darling, it's just a fun little thing."
"No! It's a big thing. I'm a colonizer now. I've got to meet this life and make a judgment about it--whether to let it be or to save it, or kill it. You want to make me a murderer, Mom? Is that your idea of a Christmas present?"
"Son, there are places that will clean these up for you. Just call someone. Use my card number if you must."
"It's an ethical problem, Mom. Biggest one I've ever seen. Next time just don't send me anything, all right?"
"Matthew."
"I've got enough to deal with at work and with--uh, with myself right now."
"Are you seeing someone?"
"No." *You're not the only one who thrives on misinformation.*
"I'm sorry it upset you. I thought you'd like to have something to take care of. Maybe grow some kind of exotic garden or something. I want you to be happy, Matthew."
"This isn't some garden, Mom, it's a new world. And now I've got to take care of it."
"We've asked you about grandchildren. Before we're dead."
"Well, there's not going to be any time for that now," Matthew replied. "Wait--"
"Love you, Matthew. Dad says hi."
----------
r/GubbinalWrites | |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. | Crusoe remembers the day well, the 34 years that has taken him to get to this point in his journey seem to have had no effect on his memory. He recalls getting Planet 2471, as a birthday present. His sixteenth birthday, while most kids his age were getting their first car, Crusoe got the deed to an exoplanet. He remembers the disappointing feeling he had opening the small box, he had hoped contained the keys to his first car. He remembers the excitement he felt when it was announced that intelligent, but primitive, life had been found on Terra, the name he had given his planet. He named it after his older sister, who had left him an only child the previous summer.
"Terra," the letter read, "Has an abundance of life very similar to that of what we have here at home. Carbon based life, an oxygen rich atmosphere, and water covers most of its surface. We will be sending a team of our planets most brilliant young minds to study the life and work along side the natives as ambassadors. You have been chosen, as the deed holder of this planet, to go on this adventure of a lifetime... there will be no sleeping pods, as we need you to be in constant contact with the host planet..."
Crusoe folded up the letter and placed it neatly back in his front breast pocket. It had been nearly 35 years ago since he first opened it. His father was not pleased in his decision to go on the expedition. Crusoe often wished he had heeded his fathers advice. "Deep space is no place for a young boy." His father's words echoed clearly in his memory, "You're all that I have left." Yet all Crusoe had left was his need to get as far away as he possibly could. This was his opportunity.
34 years, 256 days, 19 hours, and 56 minutes had passed since the crew departed. Out of the crew of 40, only 6 remained. Cancer took The crew leader only 4 years into the journey, a fire in the barracks claimed the lives of 21 more, and destroyed nearly half of the supplies they had. Two suicides, and a case of the flu done away with the rest. Without the proper medical supplies it was a wonder any of them had made it this far.
"Crusoe," Paul Louis interrupted Crusoe's day dream, "its time."
"Sorry, Paul," Crusoe said, "It is almost surreal we finally made it."
Paul smiled a cooked smile, "I know, but we have a job to do," he said as he entered the landing pod. "Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there?"
Crusoe began to gear up, his heart was racing and his hands were shaking furiously, making it difficult to dawn his gear. When he finally found his seat in the pod, his nerves had calmed and left him feeling numb.
"Preparing to enter the atmosphere," an automated voice echoed. Crusoe braced himself and looked out the window to view his new home, really seeing it for the first time.
"What's the name of the settlement where we'll be landing at again?" Crusoe asked, Paul, as they began their decent.
"Area 51, is what the natives call it. Their leader, John, said it would be the safest place for us. Apparently, not everyone is as excited for our arrival as we anticipated," Paul said.
Edit: formatting x2
PART 2:
Crusoe, Paul, and the rest of the crew were growing restless. It had been weeks since their arrival, and they haven't been allowed to leave the facility once.
"I thought we were supposed to work together." Dana said to no one in particular.
"Be patient, Dana," Paul said, "We're their guest. They have procedures, just like we do at home. You can't just have an alien race come in an establish itself. Especially when they're still a primitive race." He looked at what he knew was a two way mirror on the other end of the room. "They want us to help them leave their atmosphere, and as ambassadors to or home planet, it's our duty to help our new allies. As long as we don't give them too much at one time, they will be able to do so without much speculation of our interference. They're almost there, after all. I've seen their blueprints. They resemble our early spacecraft."
Crusoe just sat in silence, like he had so many times before, lost in thought. This wasn't what he had in mind when he read "adventure of a lifetime" on that letter. He had spent the last 34 years learning the native tongue, not that it mattered much. The creatures that inhabited this planet weren't much for listening. Apparently there was a Great War just before their arrival. So much for peaceful beings. In all of their communication with us they left us in the dark on the state of their violent nature.
Paul just shrugged it off, "They're still learning," is what he said, "They have good intentions."
"Good intentions for who?" Thought Crusoe, "I'm sure the insect like creatures from the planet Omega, had good intentions when they breached the intergalactic peace treaty, and all but wiped out half of the known life in the universe. Sucking up all of their host planet's natural resources, before meeting their own demise when the intergalactic senate voted on their extermination. Their intentions were only good for them, and that's the way these creatures are wired. Crusoe just had a sinking feeling in his gut about all of this now.
"How are you all doing this morning?" Agent Smith said walking into the room. He was wearing the same black suit and tie Crusoe seen everyone wear on this planet, and he also wore a smirk on his face that said, "You're a fool for trusting us." But Crusoe was no fool, and there was at least one other person in his crew that held these mutual feelings.
"It's cold in here." Replied Dana. Despite being in what they called a hot environment, it was still too cold for our liking.
"I've got the heat as high as it will go, Dana." Agent Smith replied, "would you like another blanket?"
"Yes, please." Said Dana.
Agent Smith called over his radio for someone to fetch a blanket for Dana. "Now, Paul, have you modified the blueprints for the rocket as we asked?"
"They're right here," said Paul, "Are you still planning on making the announcement of our arrival to the rest of the planet?"
"Absolutely," Agent Smith said with the same crooked smile, "Just as soon as our leader, John, returns from a parade. See, it would look awfully fishy if he were to miss a scheduled event, and he must keep appearances up with his people."
"Understandable." Paul said handing the blueprints over. Politics were something the entire universe could understand.
"Thank you," Smith said with condescending tone. "If you need anything just give me a call, John is expected to fly in this afternoon."
So there we sat, awaiting John and his staff to give a formal welcome and make the announcement to his people of our arrival. I was dozing in and out of sleep when I heard a commotion. "Come with me now!" Agent Smith's voice rang. "We have to get you all to a safer place!"
Crusoe didn't trust him, but there was a panic in his voice that made Crusoe instinctively follow him out the door, and to an armored vehicle towards the back of the facility. The double doors slammed shut behind them as they entered the vehicle. "John is dead," Smith said with a grave tone, "he was shot, in what we suspect, was an intelligence breach of your arrival. Our enemies want you and your technology."
"And you don't?" Crusoe's words pierced the air.
"We want it for a different reason," Smith said almost pleading, "Our intentions are pure, we want to maintain peace on our planet, and your technology can help us do that."
"Or it could help you gain absolute control here," replied Crusoe. "Who's to say you're not the evil ones? We've been here for weeks and you've kept us on a tight leash. You want it all for yourselves."
"Silence," Said Paul. "You're making a fool of yourself Crusoe, Smith is just trying to help us," he looked towards Smith, "aren't you?"
"Absolutely," Smith said. "I understand your concern, but we want to take the next step into being a peaceful member of the galactic senate."
Crusoe could see Dana rolling her eye in defiance. He had to find a way to talk to her in private. If Paul wasn't going to stop defending these violent creatures, it would have to be up to Dana and himself to stop him before it was too late, for not only the crew, but the entire universe.
I wasn't sure where to write a part two. So I just replied to the original story. Hope you all like it.
| Gina sat beside me, quivering with delight but I felt numb and removed from the world, as if I was in some sort of half coma. Gina's voice is all echoey and distant and it was only when she bit my wrist that I came out of my trance.
"Ouch. Gina!"
"Get up and dance with me. Come on! Why aren't you excited?! Do you realise what this means at all?"
"Um..." I felt dizzy, and it took all my willpower not to bury my head into the sofa.
"Oh my goodness. OH MY GOODNESS! I can't believe it! And it's your planet, *our* planet! Can you imagine?"
A chilly wind blew in from the open window, and when I looked through it at the sky, looking for some kind of touch with reality, something to bring me back to earth, it was cloudy, forbidding and not at all reassuring.
"It's going to rain," I said quietly, but Gina wasn't listening, she was jumping up and down and fighting the air and moving to the bar to get us drinks.
"Drinking isn't *even* on par with my excitement," she said when she returned with two beer bottles. "Like you have no idea! Oh, look, Aganji sent me a text! And Jane and Terry. Wow, I've got like 30 messages. And... they're all congratulatory! Check your phone I bet you got loads! Why aren't you excited, you're killing my mood here!"
She gave me a nudge and I attempted to smile but it felt tense and fake and I hoped she wouldn't notice. This was all too much for me, I felt like the table and the TV (still showing the reporter who broke the news) and the armchair and refrigerator were moving towards me in this slow, taunting way.
"I'm going to lie down for a bit, if you don't mind," I said to Gina and her smile faltered but then, creepily, sprang back up almost at once, unable to help itself.
******
Apparently the exoplanet had life. And not even meagre life, not bacteria or some hardcore kind of insect, but real furry little things with 3 eyes and two legs and long slim bodies, quite like mongooses but with a glowy, surreal kind of air because their fur emitted light when they felt "intense emotions", the scientists said. I'm expected to be at a press conference, because I'm now like the president of that planet or something, and Gina will not hear anything about me not attending.
"Smile. Please," she said, when I was seconds away from being called on stage and I put on the best smile I could.
After a series of questions from excited reporters, which I answered awkwardly and in a cold sweat, they showed us, on a large screen at the front of the room, more footage of the creatures scuttling about on the rough terrain of my planet. It's weird that I felt nothing but revulsion and it must have shown on my face because Gina sent me a text reading "*Smile ffs!!!*".
When the video ended to a thundering round of applause, a reporter asked me if, given the choice, I would like to live with these animals. I answered before I could stop myself or look towards Gina for guidance.
"Uh, no. Never."
The reporters and photographers exchanged looks. I knew the best thing at this point, the smart thing, was to shut up but I continued anyway spurred on by a rage that, perhaps, was stoked from seeing the infuriatingly bemused expressions of the faces around me.
"I mean why would I want to live with weird little rats on a planet far from home? Why are we so intent on finding life on other planets when we haven't even explored most of our oceans? When we haven't learnt everything about life on our planet. I mean this whole title deeds on another planet is so stupid, I frankly only accepted one as a gift on my birthday to please my twin sister Gina so she, so we, could feel somehow important. You know: ruling a world and all that junk. I mean if we continue at this, finding far away planets, we're not going to come across furry cute little creatures but monsters that'll destroy us in a flash. Or worse: enslave us. So, honestly I find this whole thing stupid. Sorry."
There was such a deadly quiet in the room after I stopped fuming that I could hear the frantic heartbeat of the man sitting next to me on the stage. And when my phone beeped, signaling another message from Gina, it sounded like an explosion had gone off.
| |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | “Aha, but I am a Jedi,” said Hegel.
“I know that – I’m a Sith,” responded Nietzsche. “It’s just that I thought you died like 50 year ago.”
“In hibernation, I was.”
“Wait…what? You talk like Master Yoda??”
“Let’s get past that,” sighed Hegel. “I had finally started the world down the path to absolute knowledge based on a universal spirit. We are all one with the force. And then you come along and muck up everything.”
“Did I really? As my predecessor from long ago and far away said: ‘The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power.’”
“Really? You’re quoting Palpatine? That lord / emperor / chancellor / whateva was as wrinkly ol’ fool.”
“But was he wrong? Will to power is the driving motivation for everyone. We must have the strength of will to deal with whatever crap life throws at us. These hollow pursuits for ‘justice’ and ‘truth’ lead nowhere. There is no objective truth.”
“That’s pretty bleak. Only a man of steel could deal with that outlook. The force is absolute truth. You embrace the force when you realize that you already were one with the force. Your mind is the force and the force is your mind.”
“Wha? That sounds like new age hippy crap,” guffawed Nietzsche. “The world is a tough place. And you have to fight battles over and over and over. There is no afterlife, no truth, and no right. There is only your will to do what you believe in. And the force is merely a tool to obtain power.”
“Well maybe that’s the problem – I see the force as a universal spirit that embraces us all and…”
“…and I see it as a tool to be used, to be exploited.”
“Well whatever…it’s definitely not based on that lame midi-chlorians explanation.”
“That I can agree with you on.”
| "Don't you think it's funny that most humans truly believe that their great philosophers wrote their own shit? Fucking Plato had a ghostwriter from Tatooine and Jean-Paul Sarte is an immigrant from Hoth," said Zruytsiw, who was recently named one of the top Sith scholar in his universe.
"C'mon man, it's like any of that shit matters in the end," said Volts, the Jedi woman who helped spread Nihilism across the universe, including Earth.
Today marked the Fourth Annual Jedi & Seth Mixer, which began as a peacemaking effort by a political organization composed of 50 percent Sith and 50 percent Jedi. The events have only created issues when happy groups turn angry after having one too many drinks and energy shots.
Zruytsiw and Volts met at the mixer and they clicked the second they met. Zruytsiw is naturally submissive, specifically because he swears that every second he opens his mouth his ears are shutting off. On the other hand, Volts never hesitates to speak her mind, especially if it's at an opportunity to get people to think just like her.
The event where they locked eyes was a 10 minute icebreaker where the Leaders shove people in a room at random and have them scream out what they're thinking. Usually people say some racist shit and a fight breaks out that immediately gets broken up. But both Zruytsiw and Volts screamed out "Does life have meaning!?" and it caused them to jump at each other like they were magnets.
[will finish tomorrow] | |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | *The following is written by someone who's watched the movies, played a few games, and absolutely refuses to do further research*
"So you're all just straight up *retarded* evil, right?" asked Master Jadie, lying on the ground next to Darth Mourder. An answer was not immediately forthcoming, so Jadie passed the Star Wars cannabis-equivalent blunt to his Sith companion and let her think it over.
"That doesn't seem entirely fair" Mourder said, coughing quietly on the exhale. Star Wars cannabis-equivalent was not something to trifle with, though not quite as bad as death sticks, a product which there is apparently a market for despite being called death sticks and looking like lethal glowsticks and being called fucking death sticks.
"Fuck you it doesn't seem fair" Jadie said, taking the blunt back. "You all look like metal-leather fetishists who just got home from the bloodletting party. Also I have literally never heard of one you doing, like, anything that wasn't directly antagonistic to someone."
"Hey" Mourder said in a raised voice, leaning up on one side so she could see Jadie. "Like you guys are any better. Ooh, we're all keepers of the peace and shit, except for when we're not because we all become army generals." For a twi'lek, she really could do an excellent impression of an old, self-righteous human. "Boo-hoo, the force is all unbalanced even though there's, uhhh, thousands of jedi probably and literally only one Sith lord. MATH MUCH?" The SWCE blunt had really taken hold now, and that last sentence fragment was accompanied by the sparse furniture of the room floating a few inches in the air for several seconds before coming back down in a series of restrained thuds.
"Psh, build planet-destroying weapons much?" Jadie retorted, clearly not considering this a two-sided debate. "You guys finally win, and the new Sith ruler spends his days on a super-uncomfortable looking chair that he can really only watch space through, while his always-in-pain lackey goes around doing... something? I guess? I'm not clear on what Vader did between strangling rebels and strangling his own officers. Also I'm adding strangling to the list of fetishes you all appear to share."
"What's your argument, though?" Mourder asked, having calmed down a bit and returned to a completely prone position. The ceiling was some sort of semi-reflective material, and for some reason the vague colors and shapes that reflected off of it had gained a sudden novelty to both occupants. "Because that's all just monarchy stuff. Rulers sit in thrones, looking bored and menacing. Any hands-on work is done by lesser nobility, i.e. Darth Vader. It doesn't really strike me as terribly evil or at all... retarded." There was a pause before the last word, as Mourder wasn't entirely comfortable using it. She'd heard somewhere that it was offensive now, and while she didn't shy away from its usage there was definitely an air of hesitance she'd only recently developed. This did not stop her from routinely murdering the mentally handicapped for Sith reasons.
"But, and admittedly this might just be my own preconceptions about why someone would want to be a monarch, but aren't you taking all the hedonistic fun out of it? Why do you guys want to rule everything if you're just going to walk around looking morose until you pop your next torture-chub shooting lightening at someone? You don't need a whole galaxy just to shoot lightening at someone."
"I mean, yeah, a little." Mourder didn't continue for a few seconds, eyes focused on the ceiling shapes. "I think probably that was a fluke. We're super into the pursuit of ruling everything, but once we become the authority the excitement just isn't there any more. Like, have you ever gotten a craving for bantha steak? And then you don't have any and you don't want to make a big trip just to get bantha steak, but the need is still there? The steak you think of right there is now better than any real steak could hope to be, and it's probably in your best interest to never actually try and get that steak."
A minute (space minute?) passed. No one said anything. "Soooo...?" Jadie finally asked, feeling a sudden, blunt-induced craving for bantha steak.
"So, that's... that's, like, what Sith are." Mourder sounded excited now, happy to have latched onto what she thought must have been a very logical and well-constructed analogy. "The Sith are a bunch of steak-cravers who are happy to come up with complex, admittedly murderous plans to get steak just so long as we never actually get it and have to deal with the cruel reality of the steak's mediocrity."
Another silence fell over the both of them. Jadie did not, in his current state of mind, have a retort to the steak analogy. He did, however, wonder if he'd remembered to have food delivered before they'd lit up. *Probably*, he concluded.
"Hey," Mourder said, rubbing the length of her own arm in an over-fascinated way. "You remember that girl Yoda thing? Did that thing have a name?"
"Yaddle."
Mourder gave a small snort and a few laughs. "That shit's fucked." | "Don't you think it's funny that most humans truly believe that their great philosophers wrote their own shit? Fucking Plato had a ghostwriter from Tatooine and Jean-Paul Sarte is an immigrant from Hoth," said Zruytsiw, who was recently named one of the top Sith scholar in his universe.
"C'mon man, it's like any of that shit matters in the end," said Volts, the Jedi woman who helped spread Nihilism across the universe, including Earth.
Today marked the Fourth Annual Jedi & Seth Mixer, which began as a peacemaking effort by a political organization composed of 50 percent Sith and 50 percent Jedi. The events have only created issues when happy groups turn angry after having one too many drinks and energy shots.
Zruytsiw and Volts met at the mixer and they clicked the second they met. Zruytsiw is naturally submissive, specifically because he swears that every second he opens his mouth his ears are shutting off. On the other hand, Volts never hesitates to speak her mind, especially if it's at an opportunity to get people to think just like her.
The event where they locked eyes was a 10 minute icebreaker where the Leaders shove people in a room at random and have them scream out what they're thinking. Usually people say some racist shit and a fight breaks out that immediately gets broken up. But both Zruytsiw and Volts screamed out "Does life have meaning!?" and it caused them to jump at each other like they were magnets.
[will finish tomorrow] | |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | "Well it seems that we're both captured together, in this cell filled with spikes."
“It’s more of a pit then a cell.” Came the murmured reply. “That and we weren’t captured together, you got here first.”
“Well yes, the locals were quite hostile, though to be fair the last time someone came to their planet with a lightsaber attached to their hip, half of them were slaughtered.”
“Slaughter implies that they didn’t fight back or weren’t the aggressors, it’s more accurate to say they lost a fight.”
“Well either way talking failed and that’s why we’re here.”
“Correction, talking is why you’re here.”
“Apologies, you’re quite right. You failed because you weren’t good enough at sneaking around, or using violence to get your way.”
“That’s assuming I didn’t get captured on purpose… which begs the question, why did you get captured on purpose? I’ve known that you’ve used your force powers on stronger willed sorts before.”
“So I could speak with you without a lightsaber in my face.” They smiled. “It’s always rather inconvenient to have something so lethal ready to impale me at any given moment.”
“Oh? All this trouble for little old me? Well, that’s nice and all but who says I still can’t kill you without it?”
“I never said you couldn’t, but I figured you’d be curious on why I got myself captured that you’d do at least try talking first.”
“So, you lured me here. I suppose I should be flattered but you do know it’s not going to end well for you correct?”
“That’s where we disagree, in fact I’d hazard to say it’s already ended well.”
“So short sighted, if you consider this a good ending, clearly your kind don’t know how to see a good start as I do of which I do believe this would be.”
“Hmm, I should’ve seen that response coming… well I suppose we should retrieve our lightsabers now…”
“Yes… I’ll do just that…”
“You had your lightsaber hidden on your body didn’t you?”
“And I convinced the guards otherwise… just as you’ve done.”
“Well I’d say great minds think alike but unlike yours I was here first.”
“You know what they say about the most sincere form of flattery…”
-Insert Lightsaber sound effects here-
| "Don't you think it's funny that most humans truly believe that their great philosophers wrote their own shit? Fucking Plato had a ghostwriter from Tatooine and Jean-Paul Sarte is an immigrant from Hoth," said Zruytsiw, who was recently named one of the top Sith scholar in his universe.
"C'mon man, it's like any of that shit matters in the end," said Volts, the Jedi woman who helped spread Nihilism across the universe, including Earth.
Today marked the Fourth Annual Jedi & Seth Mixer, which began as a peacemaking effort by a political organization composed of 50 percent Sith and 50 percent Jedi. The events have only created issues when happy groups turn angry after having one too many drinks and energy shots.
Zruytsiw and Volts met at the mixer and they clicked the second they met. Zruytsiw is naturally submissive, specifically because he swears that every second he opens his mouth his ears are shutting off. On the other hand, Volts never hesitates to speak her mind, especially if it's at an opportunity to get people to think just like her.
The event where they locked eyes was a 10 minute icebreaker where the Leaders shove people in a room at random and have them scream out what they're thinking. Usually people say some racist shit and a fight breaks out that immediately gets broken up. But both Zruytsiw and Volts screamed out "Does life have meaning!?" and it caused them to jump at each other like they were magnets.
[will finish tomorrow] | |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | SITH: You're hypocrites, liars, and relativists.
JEDI: From a certain point of view. You're going to find that much of wh---
SITH: (Interrupting) From my point of view you're totally full of shit.
JEDI: I knew you'd say that. Only Sith deal in absolutes.
SITH: Well, that's just like your *point of view,* Jedi.
PASSERBY: Excuse me. You two have been arguing for a half hour now. You've been going round and round with absolutism and relativism. And it seems to me that you've never considered objectivism as a middle option.
SITH: Oh great, a fucking philosopher. Don't try to frighten us with your logician's ways, philosopher. Your sad devotion to that ancient discipline has not helped you conjure your field out of the swamp of meta-ethics, or given you clairvoyance enough to match the advances of science.
PASSERBY: I find your dependence on faith disturbing.
*PASSERBY begins choking inexplicably.*
JEDI: Release him!
SITH: Fine. You wanna pregame before we hit the club?
Choking passerby stumbles away.
JEDI: I'm not into death sticks.
SITH: Bitch, when did I say anything about death sticks? I'm talking the blue stuff. We can get hammered and watch the droids twerk.
JEDI: Yeah, I guess.
| "Don't you think it's funny that most humans truly believe that their great philosophers wrote their own shit? Fucking Plato had a ghostwriter from Tatooine and Jean-Paul Sarte is an immigrant from Hoth," said Zruytsiw, who was recently named one of the top Sith scholar in his universe.
"C'mon man, it's like any of that shit matters in the end," said Volts, the Jedi woman who helped spread Nihilism across the universe, including Earth.
Today marked the Fourth Annual Jedi & Seth Mixer, which began as a peacemaking effort by a political organization composed of 50 percent Sith and 50 percent Jedi. The events have only created issues when happy groups turn angry after having one too many drinks and energy shots.
Zruytsiw and Volts met at the mixer and they clicked the second they met. Zruytsiw is naturally submissive, specifically because he swears that every second he opens his mouth his ears are shutting off. On the other hand, Volts never hesitates to speak her mind, especially if it's at an opportunity to get people to think just like her.
The event where they locked eyes was a 10 minute icebreaker where the Leaders shove people in a room at random and have them scream out what they're thinking. Usually people say some racist shit and a fight breaks out that immediately gets broken up. But both Zruytsiw and Volts screamed out "Does life have meaning!?" and it caused them to jump at each other like they were magnets.
[will finish tomorrow] | |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | Red dust swirled around J'in Karthen as the massive stone door before her shook with Force tremors. The slab had fallen in on itself countless centuries ago, but the Holocron beyond called out to her. Countless saber marks and holes potmocked the door, evidence of earlier attempts to cut her way through it.
Though she was a true artist with her blade, she found ancient stone doors were quite a difficult enemy to overpower. It was moments like this she wished she spent more time mastering the Force.
"Need a hand?" a voice whispered, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. J'in dropped her focus from the door and began scanning around, her feet instinctively falling into a battle posture.
"Whose there?" she barked, an air of command in her query. "Show yourself!"
There was a subtle ticking sound, as if some unseen mouth was verbalizing an admonishment at her. "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak minded."
The hilt of her saber flew from her belt and into her waiting hand. She ignited it and continued turning, her eyes scanning the desolate horizons. The blade's subtle blue glow mixed with the hues of twilight, casting a purple light across her robed face.
"I am warning you..." she said with a voice far less steady than her stance.
"Be careful, young Knight. Your true self is beginning to shine through the cracks in your Jedi mask." the voice taunted.
J'in mind had finally caught up with her mouth, and she swallowed the words of an insult in her throat. She didn't, after all, want to validate what the voice had said. The blade of her saber retracted into its sheath, and she knelt to the ground.
"Aww, just when things were getting so... interesting." the voice lamented. "Tell me, Jedi. Why hold yourself back?"
She listened to his words but she did not hear them. All thoughts began to leak out of her mind, as she reached out with the Force to locate the source of voice.
"You want whats on the other side of that door, don't you Jedi? You're far too young and clearly too inexperienced to know of its existence on your own. Did your Master send you on an errand? Perhaps to get rid of you for a few days and enjoy a brief respite from you?" the voice probed.
J'in didn't like being insulted. Growing up in the Jedi order, it wasn't really something you experienced. She didn't really know how to handle it.
"A Sith would have had that door open already and been on their way back home." the voice continued. "Isn't that what you want? To be off this sunstroked hell of a planet? To complete your mission and earn the praise of your superiors?"
J'in tried to use the voice to find its owner, but the closer she felt she got to it, the further away she found herself from it.
"If I stay out here much longer, I'm going to need a drink. And honestly, it's kind of boring to watch you constantly fail at literally everything you try to do. Here, let me help you."
A few meters from her, a cloaked figure faded into reality. Shucking the white hood from over his face, the Sith Lord let an oily grin creep across his face. "You can just look at me now, girl."
J'in opened her eyes and stood to her feet in a fast and fluid motion. Her posture was relaxed but her gaze rigid.
"So what now, Sith? Have you also come for the artifact?" she asked.
"What if I have, Jedi. What would you do? Would you fight me for it?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"If I had to. It's my mission to retrieve it."
He scoffed at her. "They really don't teach you anything in that temple, do they? A hint for the future, youngling: don't go around telling your sworn enemies what your mission is."
She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "I have no qualms telling you, Sith. I have no shame in what I do."
"It's not about shame, Jedi. Do you not understand that withholding information gives you strength? Knowledge is power, and power dominates all."
"Lies are not the ways of the Jedi." she quickly replied, a tremor in her voice. She knew there was truth to what he said, but had no desire to give him any credit for acknowledging that.
"Lies are the exclusive domain of the Jedi, actually. Peace is what you desire, but peace is a lie. You deny the existence of ignorance, the value of passion..."
"No. We do not deny them, we overcome them." she said, forcing a calm in her voice.
"Ah, I hear the pale ghost of a smarter being in that last line, girl. Is memorizing rhetoric part of your official training, or do you just take solace in regurgitating the words of someone else?"
She took a deep breath, attempting to maintain her calm. She was hot, she was tired, and she was frustrated. It was a cocktail for disaster, and they both could sense it.
"Sith, if you intend to fight me for the artifact, then let us just fight for it. I grow weary of our little talk."
The man's grey beard trembled as he laughed.
"Why my dear girl, we are fighting for it. And I'm winning." he said with an even mix of confidence and arrogance.
She drew her blade again and lit it up. "Then fight me, Sith. Just no more words." The man just laughed.
"You would deny me my only weapon then, girl?" he chuckled. "I do not carry a blade as you do. All I have is my words."
Her only reply was the subtle hum of her saber.
"Do you intend to kill an old and unarmed man for taunting you? That does not seem like a very Jedi thing to do."
She was at a loss. The situation at hand was not something she had experienced before. All the Sith Apprentices she had encountered in her time with Master Yuidon were much less eloquent.
"No. More. Words." she said again, almost as a mantra.
"Fine, Jedi. Then you leave me with no choice." the old man said as he raise his hands towards her.
Instinctively, her knees bent and her arms tightened. She tried to sense into the future to see if she should jump, or charge, or guard herself; but her vision of future events was clouded.
She heard a loud cracking, followed by the shattering of old gears and the grinding of stone against metal. In her periphery she could sense the door opening.
"Wh... what are you doing?" she asked, taken aback by the Sith's actions.
"I cannot fight you with a blade, and you will not fight me with words, so my only choice is to make you fight yourself." he said. Her head tilted as her mind raced, trying to understand his motives.
"Did you Master tell you why he wanted this Holocron? Do you even know what is on it?"
"No." she said, truthfully.
"Moments ago you seemed to suggest that concealing information wasn't something a Jedi needed to do. I wonder why your Master found it necessary to keep it from you?" he smirked.
She had no reply.
"Go then, girl. Retrieve it for your Master like the obedient little nerf you are." he spat dismissively. "But what will happen when you get home, I wonder? Will you tell him a kindly old Sith helped you to get it; or will you take credit for retrieving it as though you did it all on your own?"
She began to lower her guard as her mind tried to process his questions.
"And what about the long trip home? Will you be tempted to unlock it's forbidden secrets for yourself? Or will you just wonder why your Master sent you on a secret mission to retrieve the ancient secrets from a Sith stronghold?"
"I... I don't know." she said, answering his barrage of pointed queries all at once.
"You don't know, Jedi? I didn't think it was possible for one of you to be so... ignorant. Isn't that even part of your silly little code?"
"The Jedi Code is not silly!" she shouted. "It is our way of life!"
"Then I'm confused. Are you saying you want me to close the door and so you can do it on your own? If victory is less important to you than your personal development, I wouldn't want to take that from you. Just say the word, Jedi and I will seal the tomb for you just as it was."
She dropped to her knees, her blade retracting once more.
"...no."
"No? No what? No you don't want me to close it?"
"I... don't know."
"Well what do you want?"
"I want to go home." she said, equal parts broken down and authentic.
"Then go and get it and go home, girl. You have no qualms from me."
She stood and looked at him in silence.
"Always remember today, girl. The day your desires bring you results. The day you found victory in your passion." he laughed, shimmering as he faded out.
As she descended the ancient steps into the temple's guts, she tried numerous different mental gymnastics to justify her actions. She wanted, no needed, to find some way to make what she was doing feel less morally gray.
She was so busy trying to right her own world, she didn't hear the sound of heavy stone grinding against metal off in the distance above her. | "Don't you think it's funny that most humans truly believe that their great philosophers wrote their own shit? Fucking Plato had a ghostwriter from Tatooine and Jean-Paul Sarte is an immigrant from Hoth," said Zruytsiw, who was recently named one of the top Sith scholar in his universe.
"C'mon man, it's like any of that shit matters in the end," said Volts, the Jedi woman who helped spread Nihilism across the universe, including Earth.
Today marked the Fourth Annual Jedi & Seth Mixer, which began as a peacemaking effort by a political organization composed of 50 percent Sith and 50 percent Jedi. The events have only created issues when happy groups turn angry after having one too many drinks and energy shots.
Zruytsiw and Volts met at the mixer and they clicked the second they met. Zruytsiw is naturally submissive, specifically because he swears that every second he opens his mouth his ears are shutting off. On the other hand, Volts never hesitates to speak her mind, especially if it's at an opportunity to get people to think just like her.
The event where they locked eyes was a 10 minute icebreaker where the Leaders shove people in a room at random and have them scream out what they're thinking. Usually people say some racist shit and a fight breaks out that immediately gets broken up. But both Zruytsiw and Volts screamed out "Does life have meaning!?" and it caused them to jump at each other like they were magnets.
[will finish tomorrow] | |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | *The following is written by someone who's watched the movies, played a few games, and absolutely refuses to do further research*
"So you're all just straight up *retarded* evil, right?" asked Master Jadie, lying on the ground next to Darth Mourder. An answer was not immediately forthcoming, so Jadie passed the Star Wars cannabis-equivalent blunt to his Sith companion and let her think it over.
"That doesn't seem entirely fair" Mourder said, coughing quietly on the exhale. Star Wars cannabis-equivalent was not something to trifle with, though not quite as bad as death sticks, a product which there is apparently a market for despite being called death sticks and looking like lethal glowsticks and being called fucking death sticks.
"Fuck you it doesn't seem fair" Jadie said, taking the blunt back. "You all look like metal-leather fetishists who just got home from the bloodletting party. Also I have literally never heard of one you doing, like, anything that wasn't directly antagonistic to someone."
"Hey" Mourder said in a raised voice, leaning up on one side so she could see Jadie. "Like you guys are any better. Ooh, we're all keepers of the peace and shit, except for when we're not because we all become army generals." For a twi'lek, she really could do an excellent impression of an old, self-righteous human. "Boo-hoo, the force is all unbalanced even though there's, uhhh, thousands of jedi probably and literally only one Sith lord. MATH MUCH?" The SWCE blunt had really taken hold now, and that last sentence fragment was accompanied by the sparse furniture of the room floating a few inches in the air for several seconds before coming back down in a series of restrained thuds.
"Psh, build planet-destroying weapons much?" Jadie retorted, clearly not considering this a two-sided debate. "You guys finally win, and the new Sith ruler spends his days on a super-uncomfortable looking chair that he can really only watch space through, while his always-in-pain lackey goes around doing... something? I guess? I'm not clear on what Vader did between strangling rebels and strangling his own officers. Also I'm adding strangling to the list of fetishes you all appear to share."
"What's your argument, though?" Mourder asked, having calmed down a bit and returned to a completely prone position. The ceiling was some sort of semi-reflective material, and for some reason the vague colors and shapes that reflected off of it had gained a sudden novelty to both occupants. "Because that's all just monarchy stuff. Rulers sit in thrones, looking bored and menacing. Any hands-on work is done by lesser nobility, i.e. Darth Vader. It doesn't really strike me as terribly evil or at all... retarded." There was a pause before the last word, as Mourder wasn't entirely comfortable using it. She'd heard somewhere that it was offensive now, and while she didn't shy away from its usage there was definitely an air of hesitance she'd only recently developed. This did not stop her from routinely murdering the mentally handicapped for Sith reasons.
"But, and admittedly this might just be my own preconceptions about why someone would want to be a monarch, but aren't you taking all the hedonistic fun out of it? Why do you guys want to rule everything if you're just going to walk around looking morose until you pop your next torture-chub shooting lightening at someone? You don't need a whole galaxy just to shoot lightening at someone."
"I mean, yeah, a little." Mourder didn't continue for a few seconds, eyes focused on the ceiling shapes. "I think probably that was a fluke. We're super into the pursuit of ruling everything, but once we become the authority the excitement just isn't there any more. Like, have you ever gotten a craving for bantha steak? And then you don't have any and you don't want to make a big trip just to get bantha steak, but the need is still there? The steak you think of right there is now better than any real steak could hope to be, and it's probably in your best interest to never actually try and get that steak."
A minute (space minute?) passed. No one said anything. "Soooo...?" Jadie finally asked, feeling a sudden, blunt-induced craving for bantha steak.
"So, that's... that's, like, what Sith are." Mourder sounded excited now, happy to have latched onto what she thought must have been a very logical and well-constructed analogy. "The Sith are a bunch of steak-cravers who are happy to come up with complex, admittedly murderous plans to get steak just so long as we never actually get it and have to deal with the cruel reality of the steak's mediocrity."
Another silence fell over the both of them. Jadie did not, in his current state of mind, have a retort to the steak analogy. He did, however, wonder if he'd remembered to have food delivered before they'd lit up. *Probably*, he concluded.
"Hey," Mourder said, rubbing the length of her own arm in an over-fascinated way. "You remember that girl Yoda thing? Did that thing have a name?"
"Yaddle."
Mourder gave a small snort and a few laughs. "That shit's fucked." | "Do you know why Jedi fall to the dark side?" She asked, eyeing the lone Knight sent to hunt her down for deserting the Order.
He paused for a moment. He reconsidered drawing his lightsaber immediately, as she didn't seem hostile. "Why?" he asked cautiously.
"Because we realize that it's all just restrictions. The Order would have us all only use the force in ways that they agree on. And can you even tell me yourself what they agree on? I'd be impressed."
"We agree that the abuse of the force is corruption, and that it is our duty to uphold the balance of the force."
"You sound very sure of that. And what is abuse of the force?"
"Using it for the sake of power," he responded, unwavering.
"Are we not already powerful because of the force? Your doctrine is self contradictory. So the Sith use the force for power. So do the Jedi."
"We use our power only when necessary. A Sith left unchecked will wreak havoc. A Jedi left unchecked will go unnoticed."
"And what good does that do anyone? You and your council would let your powers go to waste if you didn't have us to fight. You would just sit in your temples and play at being some sort of galactic authority, insisting that it's all for the sake of order and balance. And you say that we're the power hungry ones," she smiled, "A dark jedi can at least set a goal and accomplish it. You're constantly chasing the unrealisitic idea of universal balance, at all costs. You're prepared to take my life if I draw my weapon, aren't you?"
"I was hoping you would see the error of your ways and come peacefully. I still am. But yes, if there is no way I can show the Council you are no longer a threat to the balance of the force, presenting them with your lightsaber will have to do."
"Think for yourself for a moment, jedi. Do you truly want to fight me? Do you really think killing me will erase some threat to the nature of existence? Or do you honestly think that you can get me to go back to living under that vague, yet strict regime?"
"The sith have brought ruin to the galaxy too many times to be ignored."
"As have the jedi, in the interest of stopping us. Just because you were responding to what you perceived as evil doesn't excuse your actions."
"Enough stalling. You're under arrest by order of the Jedi Council," he readied his lightsaber.
"Before you die, then, answer this," her lightsaber switched on, "Who watches the watchers?"
| |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | "Well it seems that we're both captured together, in this cell filled with spikes."
“It’s more of a pit then a cell.” Came the murmured reply. “That and we weren’t captured together, you got here first.”
“Well yes, the locals were quite hostile, though to be fair the last time someone came to their planet with a lightsaber attached to their hip, half of them were slaughtered.”
“Slaughter implies that they didn’t fight back or weren’t the aggressors, it’s more accurate to say they lost a fight.”
“Well either way talking failed and that’s why we’re here.”
“Correction, talking is why you’re here.”
“Apologies, you’re quite right. You failed because you weren’t good enough at sneaking around, or using violence to get your way.”
“That’s assuming I didn’t get captured on purpose… which begs the question, why did you get captured on purpose? I’ve known that you’ve used your force powers on stronger willed sorts before.”
“So I could speak with you without a lightsaber in my face.” They smiled. “It’s always rather inconvenient to have something so lethal ready to impale me at any given moment.”
“Oh? All this trouble for little old me? Well, that’s nice and all but who says I still can’t kill you without it?”
“I never said you couldn’t, but I figured you’d be curious on why I got myself captured that you’d do at least try talking first.”
“So, you lured me here. I suppose I should be flattered but you do know it’s not going to end well for you correct?”
“That’s where we disagree, in fact I’d hazard to say it’s already ended well.”
“So short sighted, if you consider this a good ending, clearly your kind don’t know how to see a good start as I do of which I do believe this would be.”
“Hmm, I should’ve seen that response coming… well I suppose we should retrieve our lightsabers now…”
“Yes… I’ll do just that…”
“You had your lightsaber hidden on your body didn’t you?”
“And I convinced the guards otherwise… just as you’ve done.”
“Well I’d say great minds think alike but unlike yours I was here first.”
“You know what they say about the most sincere form of flattery…”
-Insert Lightsaber sound effects here-
| "Do you know why Jedi fall to the dark side?" She asked, eyeing the lone Knight sent to hunt her down for deserting the Order.
He paused for a moment. He reconsidered drawing his lightsaber immediately, as she didn't seem hostile. "Why?" he asked cautiously.
"Because we realize that it's all just restrictions. The Order would have us all only use the force in ways that they agree on. And can you even tell me yourself what they agree on? I'd be impressed."
"We agree that the abuse of the force is corruption, and that it is our duty to uphold the balance of the force."
"You sound very sure of that. And what is abuse of the force?"
"Using it for the sake of power," he responded, unwavering.
"Are we not already powerful because of the force? Your doctrine is self contradictory. So the Sith use the force for power. So do the Jedi."
"We use our power only when necessary. A Sith left unchecked will wreak havoc. A Jedi left unchecked will go unnoticed."
"And what good does that do anyone? You and your council would let your powers go to waste if you didn't have us to fight. You would just sit in your temples and play at being some sort of galactic authority, insisting that it's all for the sake of order and balance. And you say that we're the power hungry ones," she smiled, "A dark jedi can at least set a goal and accomplish it. You're constantly chasing the unrealisitic idea of universal balance, at all costs. You're prepared to take my life if I draw my weapon, aren't you?"
"I was hoping you would see the error of your ways and come peacefully. I still am. But yes, if there is no way I can show the Council you are no longer a threat to the balance of the force, presenting them with your lightsaber will have to do."
"Think for yourself for a moment, jedi. Do you truly want to fight me? Do you really think killing me will erase some threat to the nature of existence? Or do you honestly think that you can get me to go back to living under that vague, yet strict regime?"
"The sith have brought ruin to the galaxy too many times to be ignored."
"As have the jedi, in the interest of stopping us. Just because you were responding to what you perceived as evil doesn't excuse your actions."
"Enough stalling. You're under arrest by order of the Jedi Council," he readied his lightsaber.
"Before you die, then, answer this," her lightsaber switched on, "Who watches the watchers?"
| |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | SITH: You're hypocrites, liars, and relativists.
JEDI: From a certain point of view. You're going to find that much of wh---
SITH: (Interrupting) From my point of view you're totally full of shit.
JEDI: I knew you'd say that. Only Sith deal in absolutes.
SITH: Well, that's just like your *point of view,* Jedi.
PASSERBY: Excuse me. You two have been arguing for a half hour now. You've been going round and round with absolutism and relativism. And it seems to me that you've never considered objectivism as a middle option.
SITH: Oh great, a fucking philosopher. Don't try to frighten us with your logician's ways, philosopher. Your sad devotion to that ancient discipline has not helped you conjure your field out of the swamp of meta-ethics, or given you clairvoyance enough to match the advances of science.
PASSERBY: I find your dependence on faith disturbing.
*PASSERBY begins choking inexplicably.*
JEDI: Release him!
SITH: Fine. You wanna pregame before we hit the club?
Choking passerby stumbles away.
JEDI: I'm not into death sticks.
SITH: Bitch, when did I say anything about death sticks? I'm talking the blue stuff. We can get hammered and watch the droids twerk.
JEDI: Yeah, I guess.
| "Do you know why Jedi fall to the dark side?" She asked, eyeing the lone Knight sent to hunt her down for deserting the Order.
He paused for a moment. He reconsidered drawing his lightsaber immediately, as she didn't seem hostile. "Why?" he asked cautiously.
"Because we realize that it's all just restrictions. The Order would have us all only use the force in ways that they agree on. And can you even tell me yourself what they agree on? I'd be impressed."
"We agree that the abuse of the force is corruption, and that it is our duty to uphold the balance of the force."
"You sound very sure of that. And what is abuse of the force?"
"Using it for the sake of power," he responded, unwavering.
"Are we not already powerful because of the force? Your doctrine is self contradictory. So the Sith use the force for power. So do the Jedi."
"We use our power only when necessary. A Sith left unchecked will wreak havoc. A Jedi left unchecked will go unnoticed."
"And what good does that do anyone? You and your council would let your powers go to waste if you didn't have us to fight. You would just sit in your temples and play at being some sort of galactic authority, insisting that it's all for the sake of order and balance. And you say that we're the power hungry ones," she smiled, "A dark jedi can at least set a goal and accomplish it. You're constantly chasing the unrealisitic idea of universal balance, at all costs. You're prepared to take my life if I draw my weapon, aren't you?"
"I was hoping you would see the error of your ways and come peacefully. I still am. But yes, if there is no way I can show the Council you are no longer a threat to the balance of the force, presenting them with your lightsaber will have to do."
"Think for yourself for a moment, jedi. Do you truly want to fight me? Do you really think killing me will erase some threat to the nature of existence? Or do you honestly think that you can get me to go back to living under that vague, yet strict regime?"
"The sith have brought ruin to the galaxy too many times to be ignored."
"As have the jedi, in the interest of stopping us. Just because you were responding to what you perceived as evil doesn't excuse your actions."
"Enough stalling. You're under arrest by order of the Jedi Council," he readied his lightsaber.
"Before you die, then, answer this," her lightsaber switched on, "Who watches the watchers?"
| |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | "Well it seems that we're both captured together, in this cell filled with spikes."
“It’s more of a pit then a cell.” Came the murmured reply. “That and we weren’t captured together, you got here first.”
“Well yes, the locals were quite hostile, though to be fair the last time someone came to their planet with a lightsaber attached to their hip, half of them were slaughtered.”
“Slaughter implies that they didn’t fight back or weren’t the aggressors, it’s more accurate to say they lost a fight.”
“Well either way talking failed and that’s why we’re here.”
“Correction, talking is why you’re here.”
“Apologies, you’re quite right. You failed because you weren’t good enough at sneaking around, or using violence to get your way.”
“That’s assuming I didn’t get captured on purpose… which begs the question, why did you get captured on purpose? I’ve known that you’ve used your force powers on stronger willed sorts before.”
“So I could speak with you without a lightsaber in my face.” They smiled. “It’s always rather inconvenient to have something so lethal ready to impale me at any given moment.”
“Oh? All this trouble for little old me? Well, that’s nice and all but who says I still can’t kill you without it?”
“I never said you couldn’t, but I figured you’d be curious on why I got myself captured that you’d do at least try talking first.”
“So, you lured me here. I suppose I should be flattered but you do know it’s not going to end well for you correct?”
“That’s where we disagree, in fact I’d hazard to say it’s already ended well.”
“So short sighted, if you consider this a good ending, clearly your kind don’t know how to see a good start as I do of which I do believe this would be.”
“Hmm, I should’ve seen that response coming… well I suppose we should retrieve our lightsabers now…”
“Yes… I’ll do just that…”
“You had your lightsaber hidden on your body didn’t you?”
“And I convinced the guards otherwise… just as you’ve done.”
“Well I’d say great minds think alike but unlike yours I was here first.”
“You know what they say about the most sincere form of flattery…”
-Insert Lightsaber sound effects here-
| “Aha, but I am a Jedi,” said Hegel.
“I know that – I’m a Sith,” responded Nietzsche. “It’s just that I thought you died like 50 year ago.”
“In hibernation, I was.”
“Wait…what? You talk like Master Yoda??”
“Let’s get past that,” sighed Hegel. “I had finally started the world down the path to absolute knowledge based on a universal spirit. We are all one with the force. And then you come along and muck up everything.”
“Did I really? As my predecessor from long ago and far away said: ‘The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power.’”
“Really? You’re quoting Palpatine? That lord / emperor / chancellor / whateva was as wrinkly ol’ fool.”
“But was he wrong? Will to power is the driving motivation for everyone. We must have the strength of will to deal with whatever crap life throws at us. These hollow pursuits for ‘justice’ and ‘truth’ lead nowhere. There is no objective truth.”
“That’s pretty bleak. Only a man of steel could deal with that outlook. The force is absolute truth. You embrace the force when you realize that you already were one with the force. Your mind is the force and the force is your mind.”
“Wha? That sounds like new age hippy crap,” guffawed Nietzsche. “The world is a tough place. And you have to fight battles over and over and over. There is no afterlife, no truth, and no right. There is only your will to do what you believe in. And the force is merely a tool to obtain power.”
“Well maybe that’s the problem – I see the force as a universal spirit that embraces us all and…”
“…and I see it as a tool to be used, to be exploited.”
“Well whatever…it’s definitely not based on that lame midi-chlorians explanation.”
“That I can agree with you on.”
| |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | SITH: You're hypocrites, liars, and relativists.
JEDI: From a certain point of view. You're going to find that much of wh---
SITH: (Interrupting) From my point of view you're totally full of shit.
JEDI: I knew you'd say that. Only Sith deal in absolutes.
SITH: Well, that's just like your *point of view,* Jedi.
PASSERBY: Excuse me. You two have been arguing for a half hour now. You've been going round and round with absolutism and relativism. And it seems to me that you've never considered objectivism as a middle option.
SITH: Oh great, a fucking philosopher. Don't try to frighten us with your logician's ways, philosopher. Your sad devotion to that ancient discipline has not helped you conjure your field out of the swamp of meta-ethics, or given you clairvoyance enough to match the advances of science.
PASSERBY: I find your dependence on faith disturbing.
*PASSERBY begins choking inexplicably.*
JEDI: Release him!
SITH: Fine. You wanna pregame before we hit the club?
Choking passerby stumbles away.
JEDI: I'm not into death sticks.
SITH: Bitch, when did I say anything about death sticks? I'm talking the blue stuff. We can get hammered and watch the droids twerk.
JEDI: Yeah, I guess.
| “Aha, but I am a Jedi,” said Hegel.
“I know that – I’m a Sith,” responded Nietzsche. “It’s just that I thought you died like 50 year ago.”
“In hibernation, I was.”
“Wait…what? You talk like Master Yoda??”
“Let’s get past that,” sighed Hegel. “I had finally started the world down the path to absolute knowledge based on a universal spirit. We are all one with the force. And then you come along and muck up everything.”
“Did I really? As my predecessor from long ago and far away said: ‘The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power.’”
“Really? You’re quoting Palpatine? That lord / emperor / chancellor / whateva was as wrinkly ol’ fool.”
“But was he wrong? Will to power is the driving motivation for everyone. We must have the strength of will to deal with whatever crap life throws at us. These hollow pursuits for ‘justice’ and ‘truth’ lead nowhere. There is no objective truth.”
“That’s pretty bleak. Only a man of steel could deal with that outlook. The force is absolute truth. You embrace the force when you realize that you already were one with the force. Your mind is the force and the force is your mind.”
“Wha? That sounds like new age hippy crap,” guffawed Nietzsche. “The world is a tough place. And you have to fight battles over and over and over. There is no afterlife, no truth, and no right. There is only your will to do what you believe in. And the force is merely a tool to obtain power.”
“Well maybe that’s the problem – I see the force as a universal spirit that embraces us all and…”
“…and I see it as a tool to be used, to be exploited.”
“Well whatever…it’s definitely not based on that lame midi-chlorians explanation.”
“That I can agree with you on.”
| |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | Red dust swirled around J'in Karthen as the massive stone door before her shook with Force tremors. The slab had fallen in on itself countless centuries ago, but the Holocron beyond called out to her. Countless saber marks and holes potmocked the door, evidence of earlier attempts to cut her way through it.
Though she was a true artist with her blade, she found ancient stone doors were quite a difficult enemy to overpower. It was moments like this she wished she spent more time mastering the Force.
"Need a hand?" a voice whispered, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. J'in dropped her focus from the door and began scanning around, her feet instinctively falling into a battle posture.
"Whose there?" she barked, an air of command in her query. "Show yourself!"
There was a subtle ticking sound, as if some unseen mouth was verbalizing an admonishment at her. "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak minded."
The hilt of her saber flew from her belt and into her waiting hand. She ignited it and continued turning, her eyes scanning the desolate horizons. The blade's subtle blue glow mixed with the hues of twilight, casting a purple light across her robed face.
"I am warning you..." she said with a voice far less steady than her stance.
"Be careful, young Knight. Your true self is beginning to shine through the cracks in your Jedi mask." the voice taunted.
J'in mind had finally caught up with her mouth, and she swallowed the words of an insult in her throat. She didn't, after all, want to validate what the voice had said. The blade of her saber retracted into its sheath, and she knelt to the ground.
"Aww, just when things were getting so... interesting." the voice lamented. "Tell me, Jedi. Why hold yourself back?"
She listened to his words but she did not hear them. All thoughts began to leak out of her mind, as she reached out with the Force to locate the source of voice.
"You want whats on the other side of that door, don't you Jedi? You're far too young and clearly too inexperienced to know of its existence on your own. Did your Master send you on an errand? Perhaps to get rid of you for a few days and enjoy a brief respite from you?" the voice probed.
J'in didn't like being insulted. Growing up in the Jedi order, it wasn't really something you experienced. She didn't really know how to handle it.
"A Sith would have had that door open already and been on their way back home." the voice continued. "Isn't that what you want? To be off this sunstroked hell of a planet? To complete your mission and earn the praise of your superiors?"
J'in tried to use the voice to find its owner, but the closer she felt she got to it, the further away she found herself from it.
"If I stay out here much longer, I'm going to need a drink. And honestly, it's kind of boring to watch you constantly fail at literally everything you try to do. Here, let me help you."
A few meters from her, a cloaked figure faded into reality. Shucking the white hood from over his face, the Sith Lord let an oily grin creep across his face. "You can just look at me now, girl."
J'in opened her eyes and stood to her feet in a fast and fluid motion. Her posture was relaxed but her gaze rigid.
"So what now, Sith? Have you also come for the artifact?" she asked.
"What if I have, Jedi. What would you do? Would you fight me for it?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"If I had to. It's my mission to retrieve it."
He scoffed at her. "They really don't teach you anything in that temple, do they? A hint for the future, youngling: don't go around telling your sworn enemies what your mission is."
She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "I have no qualms telling you, Sith. I have no shame in what I do."
"It's not about shame, Jedi. Do you not understand that withholding information gives you strength? Knowledge is power, and power dominates all."
"Lies are not the ways of the Jedi." she quickly replied, a tremor in her voice. She knew there was truth to what he said, but had no desire to give him any credit for acknowledging that.
"Lies are the exclusive domain of the Jedi, actually. Peace is what you desire, but peace is a lie. You deny the existence of ignorance, the value of passion..."
"No. We do not deny them, we overcome them." she said, forcing a calm in her voice.
"Ah, I hear the pale ghost of a smarter being in that last line, girl. Is memorizing rhetoric part of your official training, or do you just take solace in regurgitating the words of someone else?"
She took a deep breath, attempting to maintain her calm. She was hot, she was tired, and she was frustrated. It was a cocktail for disaster, and they both could sense it.
"Sith, if you intend to fight me for the artifact, then let us just fight for it. I grow weary of our little talk."
The man's grey beard trembled as he laughed.
"Why my dear girl, we are fighting for it. And I'm winning." he said with an even mix of confidence and arrogance.
She drew her blade again and lit it up. "Then fight me, Sith. Just no more words." The man just laughed.
"You would deny me my only weapon then, girl?" he chuckled. "I do not carry a blade as you do. All I have is my words."
Her only reply was the subtle hum of her saber.
"Do you intend to kill an old and unarmed man for taunting you? That does not seem like a very Jedi thing to do."
She was at a loss. The situation at hand was not something she had experienced before. All the Sith Apprentices she had encountered in her time with Master Yuidon were much less eloquent.
"No. More. Words." she said again, almost as a mantra.
"Fine, Jedi. Then you leave me with no choice." the old man said as he raise his hands towards her.
Instinctively, her knees bent and her arms tightened. She tried to sense into the future to see if she should jump, or charge, or guard herself; but her vision of future events was clouded.
She heard a loud cracking, followed by the shattering of old gears and the grinding of stone against metal. In her periphery she could sense the door opening.
"Wh... what are you doing?" she asked, taken aback by the Sith's actions.
"I cannot fight you with a blade, and you will not fight me with words, so my only choice is to make you fight yourself." he said. Her head tilted as her mind raced, trying to understand his motives.
"Did you Master tell you why he wanted this Holocron? Do you even know what is on it?"
"No." she said, truthfully.
"Moments ago you seemed to suggest that concealing information wasn't something a Jedi needed to do. I wonder why your Master found it necessary to keep it from you?" he smirked.
She had no reply.
"Go then, girl. Retrieve it for your Master like the obedient little nerf you are." he spat dismissively. "But what will happen when you get home, I wonder? Will you tell him a kindly old Sith helped you to get it; or will you take credit for retrieving it as though you did it all on your own?"
She began to lower her guard as her mind tried to process his questions.
"And what about the long trip home? Will you be tempted to unlock it's forbidden secrets for yourself? Or will you just wonder why your Master sent you on a secret mission to retrieve the ancient secrets from a Sith stronghold?"
"I... I don't know." she said, answering his barrage of pointed queries all at once.
"You don't know, Jedi? I didn't think it was possible for one of you to be so... ignorant. Isn't that even part of your silly little code?"
"The Jedi Code is not silly!" she shouted. "It is our way of life!"
"Then I'm confused. Are you saying you want me to close the door and so you can do it on your own? If victory is less important to you than your personal development, I wouldn't want to take that from you. Just say the word, Jedi and I will seal the tomb for you just as it was."
She dropped to her knees, her blade retracting once more.
"...no."
"No? No what? No you don't want me to close it?"
"I... don't know."
"Well what do you want?"
"I want to go home." she said, equal parts broken down and authentic.
"Then go and get it and go home, girl. You have no qualms from me."
She stood and looked at him in silence.
"Always remember today, girl. The day your desires bring you results. The day you found victory in your passion." he laughed, shimmering as he faded out.
As she descended the ancient steps into the temple's guts, she tried numerous different mental gymnastics to justify her actions. She wanted, no needed, to find some way to make what she was doing feel less morally gray.
She was so busy trying to right her own world, she didn't hear the sound of heavy stone grinding against metal off in the distance above her. | "You Sith don't make any logical sense."
"What?! Of course, we do!"
"Answer me this then," The Jedi folded her arms. "why is it, when someone turns to the dark side, they turn into a massive dick?" A hologram of Anakin popped up out of nowhere. Don't question it. "Anakin Skywalker. An okay Jedi with serious flirting skills. The guy only wanted to save his wife and after he turned to the dark side, he goes and kills children while the clones are off doing the dirty work."
The Sith grinned. "That is the way of the Sith! The conquest of the Jedi temple was a grand victory. And through victory, his chains are broken!"
"Victory? Killing children is considered a victory?"
The Sith snarled. "What about you then?"
"What about me?"
"You guys aren't allowed to get attached to anyone. What is up with that? Do you know how wrong that is?” The Jedi looked awfully confused, to which the Sith groaned. "Fine, I'll explain it. Humans are social creatures. It's what makes us strong. Cutting away that part of human nature only creates emotions which drive your kind to the dark side."
The Jedi made a face. "That's rich coming from the Sith. What happened to the rule of two?"
"Expanded Universe doesn't exist anymore." The Sith shook his head, disappointed. "With the movies and cartoons being the only things cannon makes this whole argument pointless. It's kind of hard arguing why someone would become a sith when all you have to work with is an asthmatic charcoal, a wrinkly old fart, and a try hard emo."
"Careful, you're becoming meta." The Jedi winked. "Tell me though, why would people become Sith?"
"For power." Again, the Jedi looked confused. This time, the sith was much more willing to explain. "Think about it. The light side runs on 'oneness' with the force and basically being it's friend. It's a hard and long process. The dark side, on the other hand, runs on raw emotion; both yourself and others.
"So naturally we get all the bad eggs.; people who wanted power for power's sake. But then there are those who had a rough life. Slaves who want to be free, even people who wanted to save their loved ones like Anakin, and even Jedi who wanted to use the dark side in their quest for peace."
The Jedi pondered. "We know this too. Good intentions often lead to the dark side."
"That is a good thing." The sith nodded knowingly. "You Jedi seem to forget the importance of emotions. The dark side treasures emotions. It grows stronger in the presence of fear, hate, and passion. Fear is a tool that kept our ancestors alive for eons. Hate is a motivator that seeks to drive out threats like cold and predators. And passion . . . Well, it's one of those things that you need to feel."
"The world can't work like that. With so many people working for their own ends, it neglects the needs of others. Look at the time of Revan. Hundreds of Sith ran rampant, killing each other for power. It was an evil time." The Jedi defended. " That is where the Jedi step in. We sacrifice our emotions to protect the weak from people who would crush others for their goals."
"Evil?" The Sith smiled. "Good and evil largely depends on where you are standing at the time."
The whirlwind of the force that had grown stronger as the discussion grew long, calmed. The one who would use the force as a tool revealed himself as wise as the greatest Jedi scholars, while the one who would follow the force understood why the dark side was so tempting.
Then, there was an understanding.
"So are we going to talk about how all sith become racist?"
"Don't look at me. I think Twi'lek are hot." | |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | Red dust swirled around J'in Karthen as the massive stone door before her shook with Force tremors. The slab had fallen in on itself countless centuries ago, but the Holocron beyond called out to her. Countless saber marks and holes potmocked the door, evidence of earlier attempts to cut her way through it.
Though she was a true artist with her blade, she found ancient stone doors were quite a difficult enemy to overpower. It was moments like this she wished she spent more time mastering the Force.
"Need a hand?" a voice whispered, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. J'in dropped her focus from the door and began scanning around, her feet instinctively falling into a battle posture.
"Whose there?" she barked, an air of command in her query. "Show yourself!"
There was a subtle ticking sound, as if some unseen mouth was verbalizing an admonishment at her. "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak minded."
The hilt of her saber flew from her belt and into her waiting hand. She ignited it and continued turning, her eyes scanning the desolate horizons. The blade's subtle blue glow mixed with the hues of twilight, casting a purple light across her robed face.
"I am warning you..." she said with a voice far less steady than her stance.
"Be careful, young Knight. Your true self is beginning to shine through the cracks in your Jedi mask." the voice taunted.
J'in mind had finally caught up with her mouth, and she swallowed the words of an insult in her throat. She didn't, after all, want to validate what the voice had said. The blade of her saber retracted into its sheath, and she knelt to the ground.
"Aww, just when things were getting so... interesting." the voice lamented. "Tell me, Jedi. Why hold yourself back?"
She listened to his words but she did not hear them. All thoughts began to leak out of her mind, as she reached out with the Force to locate the source of voice.
"You want whats on the other side of that door, don't you Jedi? You're far too young and clearly too inexperienced to know of its existence on your own. Did your Master send you on an errand? Perhaps to get rid of you for a few days and enjoy a brief respite from you?" the voice probed.
J'in didn't like being insulted. Growing up in the Jedi order, it wasn't really something you experienced. She didn't really know how to handle it.
"A Sith would have had that door open already and been on their way back home." the voice continued. "Isn't that what you want? To be off this sunstroked hell of a planet? To complete your mission and earn the praise of your superiors?"
J'in tried to use the voice to find its owner, but the closer she felt she got to it, the further away she found herself from it.
"If I stay out here much longer, I'm going to need a drink. And honestly, it's kind of boring to watch you constantly fail at literally everything you try to do. Here, let me help you."
A few meters from her, a cloaked figure faded into reality. Shucking the white hood from over his face, the Sith Lord let an oily grin creep across his face. "You can just look at me now, girl."
J'in opened her eyes and stood to her feet in a fast and fluid motion. Her posture was relaxed but her gaze rigid.
"So what now, Sith? Have you also come for the artifact?" she asked.
"What if I have, Jedi. What would you do? Would you fight me for it?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"If I had to. It's my mission to retrieve it."
He scoffed at her. "They really don't teach you anything in that temple, do they? A hint for the future, youngling: don't go around telling your sworn enemies what your mission is."
She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "I have no qualms telling you, Sith. I have no shame in what I do."
"It's not about shame, Jedi. Do you not understand that withholding information gives you strength? Knowledge is power, and power dominates all."
"Lies are not the ways of the Jedi." she quickly replied, a tremor in her voice. She knew there was truth to what he said, but had no desire to give him any credit for acknowledging that.
"Lies are the exclusive domain of the Jedi, actually. Peace is what you desire, but peace is a lie. You deny the existence of ignorance, the value of passion..."
"No. We do not deny them, we overcome them." she said, forcing a calm in her voice.
"Ah, I hear the pale ghost of a smarter being in that last line, girl. Is memorizing rhetoric part of your official training, or do you just take solace in regurgitating the words of someone else?"
She took a deep breath, attempting to maintain her calm. She was hot, she was tired, and she was frustrated. It was a cocktail for disaster, and they both could sense it.
"Sith, if you intend to fight me for the artifact, then let us just fight for it. I grow weary of our little talk."
The man's grey beard trembled as he laughed.
"Why my dear girl, we are fighting for it. And I'm winning." he said with an even mix of confidence and arrogance.
She drew her blade again and lit it up. "Then fight me, Sith. Just no more words." The man just laughed.
"You would deny me my only weapon then, girl?" he chuckled. "I do not carry a blade as you do. All I have is my words."
Her only reply was the subtle hum of her saber.
"Do you intend to kill an old and unarmed man for taunting you? That does not seem like a very Jedi thing to do."
She was at a loss. The situation at hand was not something she had experienced before. All the Sith Apprentices she had encountered in her time with Master Yuidon were much less eloquent.
"No. More. Words." she said again, almost as a mantra.
"Fine, Jedi. Then you leave me with no choice." the old man said as he raise his hands towards her.
Instinctively, her knees bent and her arms tightened. She tried to sense into the future to see if she should jump, or charge, or guard herself; but her vision of future events was clouded.
She heard a loud cracking, followed by the shattering of old gears and the grinding of stone against metal. In her periphery she could sense the door opening.
"Wh... what are you doing?" she asked, taken aback by the Sith's actions.
"I cannot fight you with a blade, and you will not fight me with words, so my only choice is to make you fight yourself." he said. Her head tilted as her mind raced, trying to understand his motives.
"Did you Master tell you why he wanted this Holocron? Do you even know what is on it?"
"No." she said, truthfully.
"Moments ago you seemed to suggest that concealing information wasn't something a Jedi needed to do. I wonder why your Master found it necessary to keep it from you?" he smirked.
She had no reply.
"Go then, girl. Retrieve it for your Master like the obedient little nerf you are." he spat dismissively. "But what will happen when you get home, I wonder? Will you tell him a kindly old Sith helped you to get it; or will you take credit for retrieving it as though you did it all on your own?"
She began to lower her guard as her mind tried to process his questions.
"And what about the long trip home? Will you be tempted to unlock it's forbidden secrets for yourself? Or will you just wonder why your Master sent you on a secret mission to retrieve the ancient secrets from a Sith stronghold?"
"I... I don't know." she said, answering his barrage of pointed queries all at once.
"You don't know, Jedi? I didn't think it was possible for one of you to be so... ignorant. Isn't that even part of your silly little code?"
"The Jedi Code is not silly!" she shouted. "It is our way of life!"
"Then I'm confused. Are you saying you want me to close the door and so you can do it on your own? If victory is less important to you than your personal development, I wouldn't want to take that from you. Just say the word, Jedi and I will seal the tomb for you just as it was."
She dropped to her knees, her blade retracting once more.
"...no."
"No? No what? No you don't want me to close it?"
"I... don't know."
"Well what do you want?"
"I want to go home." she said, equal parts broken down and authentic.
"Then go and get it and go home, girl. You have no qualms from me."
She stood and looked at him in silence.
"Always remember today, girl. The day your desires bring you results. The day you found victory in your passion." he laughed, shimmering as he faded out.
As she descended the ancient steps into the temple's guts, she tried numerous different mental gymnastics to justify her actions. She wanted, no needed, to find some way to make what she was doing feel less morally gray.
She was so busy trying to right her own world, she didn't hear the sound of heavy stone grinding against metal off in the distance above her. | Shaye walked among the moist floor of the swamp planet of Dagobah, utterly lost as to what she would find there. Her meditation, while deep and arduous, had rendered only one vision of the place. Immediately she had known it's stellar coordinates, it's name, but what she sought remained a mystery.
Though she had taken to watching her step, a wrong one soaking her boot and therefore, her sock (a torture that none of his fellow Sith knew the meaning of), she almost didn't notice the small creature she was about to step on. She forced himself to twist out of the way, her foot landing on a slick patch of moss, and before she knew it, she found herself face-down in the mud.
She groaned, cursing as she lifted her head, using her sleeve to wipe some of her face clean, feeling content to let a curse or two fly when the creature she'd avoided stepping on spoke up behind her, "not find what you seek, you will down there"
Shaye turned back, looking the creature up and down, as much as she could for such a short creature, "well," She chuckled, "I don't know what I'm looking for. It could've been down there after all" She stood, brushing herself off, towering over the green skinned being, "I don't suppose you know what I'm looking for?" She asked, deciding to ask the creature's name next.
"What you seek, only you know" It said, "sometimes found, some things, when not looked for. The way back, you seem to have lost"
Shaye paused, looking around at the unfamiliar swamp that looked just as unfamiliar as where she had landed, "it would seem you're right." She turned her head, "I'm lost, and I can't use the force to guide me." she whispered to herself, "it's everywhere..."
"Already it was" the green creature replied, "here, felt it can be, more easily."
She nodded, feeling the power of the force washing over him with the ebb and flow of the muggy breeze, "a lesser Sith would burn down this entire forest simply because it was uncomfortable"
"what of you, hmm?" he had to find out this creature's name, for sure, "A Sith you are? Or are you not?"
"I am *not* like them!" Shaye hissed, a bit too quickly, she realized as she took a breath to calm herself, "a Sith follows their heart, their passion, it's just..." She sighed softly, "many find it easier to hate than to love, to win than to play. It's a sad life, knowing you are defined by your inferiors"
The creature's ears pricked up as it studied him, "Introductions, we have not made" it said, seeming to read Shay's quickly forgotten intention. "Yoda, I am"
Shay nodded, "and I am Shay, a champion of the Sith" She said, bowing her head respectfully as she had been taught.
"Gone, the Sith are" Yoda said, leaning on a small walking stick, "yet you remain?"
"I cheated death, with my master's help" Shaye sat on a nearby rock, brushing herself off a little further, "I've only been in this era for a few months. The Jedi are gone, but in their place is a Sith tyrant who any Sith would be glad to admire, and yet..." Shay shook her head, "I hate him, and yet he is everything I aspire to be"
Yoda nodded, sitting opposite her, "death, the emperor's wake carries." He said, "kindness, you feel, hmm?"
"Kindness doesn't get you anywhere, not with another Sith. Believe me, I knew someone like that, but he was just one person, haunted by the Sith and what they did through him." She looked Yoda in the eye, "he's gone now, like all the rest." Shaye let her eyes fall to the ground, to the mud she'd just fallen in an eternity within a second ago. For the first time, it crashed down on her that everything she knew was gone. It could've been more complex than that, but sometimes the simplest things were the things that killed you inside.
"Love him, you did?" Yoda asked, to which she shook her head.
"Yes, and no" She looked at him, "Love isn't just soul mates, love is family as well. My brother became a Jedi, and he hated me but I still loved him. Same with that Sith I told you about, the one who was kind. He treated me different than my master. My master expected me to be great, while Ronan...he just expected me to be me. He was a friend I'll never forget, plus he actually got the girl I fell in love with not to hate me. She was a Jedi, and...we fell in love"
"Always touching, love is. Obviously end well, it didn't."
Shaye shook her head, holding back her emotions, lest she actually burn down the forest, "no, and I won't talk about it"
"Already gone, they are" Yoda said, his ears drooping slightly, "nothing you can do but remember them and let go."
She took a breath, accepting Yoda's suggestion, "who are you?" She asked.
"Told you, I did. Yoda, I a-"
"No" She interrupted, "what's your story?" She asked, looking at him, curious as to who she actually had been talking to for the past several minutes.
"Long, it is" He said. She couldn't help but hear her own words echoing back at her, *"no, and I won't talk about it"*. He didn't expect her to talk about everything, only natural she had to reciprocate.
She sighed, "fine. I don't suppose you could lead me back to my ship? It's getting dark, and I need to find what I'm looking for when its..." she paused, standing up, "brighter, I guess" she said, having come here in the morning, the light not much different then than now.
She took a few steps when Yoda spoke again, "why seek this? Help you against the emperor, you believe?"
Shay stopped, "I...I don't know" she thought out loud, "all I know is I need it. If it helps against the emperor, then that's a bonus"
"Why face the emperor?" Yoda asked, "why not live peacefully, like me?"
"My master taught me one thing" Shaye said slowly, "other masters abused their apprentices, forced them to toughen up, shocked them to build up a tolerance, but mine taught me one thing that always stayed with me" She turned around, "Never be content with something you shouldn't" She recited from memory, picturing him saying it in front of her and her brother, "In a few months, I've seen the empire do whatever the hell it felt like and damn the ordinary person who wants to be left alone. No more" She took a few steps, then stopped, hearing a few grunts from Yoda.
Turning around, she saw him walk as best he could with his cane. "With me, come" He said, "stay the night you shall" He started to walk to her right, and she reluctantly followed, not expecting any malicious intent from someone as small as him.
"Thank you" she said, not wanting to find her ship in the dark.
"her name" Yoda said, "what was it?"
Shaye paused, allowing Yoda to gain a foot of distance past her while she contemplated the question of her lover's name. She hadn't said it, not in her entire time here in a universe that was completely different than the one she had known.
"Jenna" Shay said, unable to help the slightest of nostalgic smiles to cross her face, "her name was Jenna"
___________________________________________________
Damn, this took longer than anticipated. If people like it, I'll write a part 2! | |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | Red dust swirled around J'in Karthen as the massive stone door before her shook with Force tremors. The slab had fallen in on itself countless centuries ago, but the Holocron beyond called out to her. Countless saber marks and holes potmocked the door, evidence of earlier attempts to cut her way through it.
Though she was a true artist with her blade, she found ancient stone doors were quite a difficult enemy to overpower. It was moments like this she wished she spent more time mastering the Force.
"Need a hand?" a voice whispered, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. J'in dropped her focus from the door and began scanning around, her feet instinctively falling into a battle posture.
"Whose there?" she barked, an air of command in her query. "Show yourself!"
There was a subtle ticking sound, as if some unseen mouth was verbalizing an admonishment at her. "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak minded."
The hilt of her saber flew from her belt and into her waiting hand. She ignited it and continued turning, her eyes scanning the desolate horizons. The blade's subtle blue glow mixed with the hues of twilight, casting a purple light across her robed face.
"I am warning you..." she said with a voice far less steady than her stance.
"Be careful, young Knight. Your true self is beginning to shine through the cracks in your Jedi mask." the voice taunted.
J'in mind had finally caught up with her mouth, and she swallowed the words of an insult in her throat. She didn't, after all, want to validate what the voice had said. The blade of her saber retracted into its sheath, and she knelt to the ground.
"Aww, just when things were getting so... interesting." the voice lamented. "Tell me, Jedi. Why hold yourself back?"
She listened to his words but she did not hear them. All thoughts began to leak out of her mind, as she reached out with the Force to locate the source of voice.
"You want whats on the other side of that door, don't you Jedi? You're far too young and clearly too inexperienced to know of its existence on your own. Did your Master send you on an errand? Perhaps to get rid of you for a few days and enjoy a brief respite from you?" the voice probed.
J'in didn't like being insulted. Growing up in the Jedi order, it wasn't really something you experienced. She didn't really know how to handle it.
"A Sith would have had that door open already and been on their way back home." the voice continued. "Isn't that what you want? To be off this sunstroked hell of a planet? To complete your mission and earn the praise of your superiors?"
J'in tried to use the voice to find its owner, but the closer she felt she got to it, the further away she found herself from it.
"If I stay out here much longer, I'm going to need a drink. And honestly, it's kind of boring to watch you constantly fail at literally everything you try to do. Here, let me help you."
A few meters from her, a cloaked figure faded into reality. Shucking the white hood from over his face, the Sith Lord let an oily grin creep across his face. "You can just look at me now, girl."
J'in opened her eyes and stood to her feet in a fast and fluid motion. Her posture was relaxed but her gaze rigid.
"So what now, Sith? Have you also come for the artifact?" she asked.
"What if I have, Jedi. What would you do? Would you fight me for it?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"If I had to. It's my mission to retrieve it."
He scoffed at her. "They really don't teach you anything in that temple, do they? A hint for the future, youngling: don't go around telling your sworn enemies what your mission is."
She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. "I have no qualms telling you, Sith. I have no shame in what I do."
"It's not about shame, Jedi. Do you not understand that withholding information gives you strength? Knowledge is power, and power dominates all."
"Lies are not the ways of the Jedi." she quickly replied, a tremor in her voice. She knew there was truth to what he said, but had no desire to give him any credit for acknowledging that.
"Lies are the exclusive domain of the Jedi, actually. Peace is what you desire, but peace is a lie. You deny the existence of ignorance, the value of passion..."
"No. We do not deny them, we overcome them." she said, forcing a calm in her voice.
"Ah, I hear the pale ghost of a smarter being in that last line, girl. Is memorizing rhetoric part of your official training, or do you just take solace in regurgitating the words of someone else?"
She took a deep breath, attempting to maintain her calm. She was hot, she was tired, and she was frustrated. It was a cocktail for disaster, and they both could sense it.
"Sith, if you intend to fight me for the artifact, then let us just fight for it. I grow weary of our little talk."
The man's grey beard trembled as he laughed.
"Why my dear girl, we are fighting for it. And I'm winning." he said with an even mix of confidence and arrogance.
She drew her blade again and lit it up. "Then fight me, Sith. Just no more words." The man just laughed.
"You would deny me my only weapon then, girl?" he chuckled. "I do not carry a blade as you do. All I have is my words."
Her only reply was the subtle hum of her saber.
"Do you intend to kill an old and unarmed man for taunting you? That does not seem like a very Jedi thing to do."
She was at a loss. The situation at hand was not something she had experienced before. All the Sith Apprentices she had encountered in her time with Master Yuidon were much less eloquent.
"No. More. Words." she said again, almost as a mantra.
"Fine, Jedi. Then you leave me with no choice." the old man said as he raise his hands towards her.
Instinctively, her knees bent and her arms tightened. She tried to sense into the future to see if she should jump, or charge, or guard herself; but her vision of future events was clouded.
She heard a loud cracking, followed by the shattering of old gears and the grinding of stone against metal. In her periphery she could sense the door opening.
"Wh... what are you doing?" she asked, taken aback by the Sith's actions.
"I cannot fight you with a blade, and you will not fight me with words, so my only choice is to make you fight yourself." he said. Her head tilted as her mind raced, trying to understand his motives.
"Did you Master tell you why he wanted this Holocron? Do you even know what is on it?"
"No." she said, truthfully.
"Moments ago you seemed to suggest that concealing information wasn't something a Jedi needed to do. I wonder why your Master found it necessary to keep it from you?" he smirked.
She had no reply.
"Go then, girl. Retrieve it for your Master like the obedient little nerf you are." he spat dismissively. "But what will happen when you get home, I wonder? Will you tell him a kindly old Sith helped you to get it; or will you take credit for retrieving it as though you did it all on your own?"
She began to lower her guard as her mind tried to process his questions.
"And what about the long trip home? Will you be tempted to unlock it's forbidden secrets for yourself? Or will you just wonder why your Master sent you on a secret mission to retrieve the ancient secrets from a Sith stronghold?"
"I... I don't know." she said, answering his barrage of pointed queries all at once.
"You don't know, Jedi? I didn't think it was possible for one of you to be so... ignorant. Isn't that even part of your silly little code?"
"The Jedi Code is not silly!" she shouted. "It is our way of life!"
"Then I'm confused. Are you saying you want me to close the door and so you can do it on your own? If victory is less important to you than your personal development, I wouldn't want to take that from you. Just say the word, Jedi and I will seal the tomb for you just as it was."
She dropped to her knees, her blade retracting once more.
"...no."
"No? No what? No you don't want me to close it?"
"I... don't know."
"Well what do you want?"
"I want to go home." she said, equal parts broken down and authentic.
"Then go and get it and go home, girl. You have no qualms from me."
She stood and looked at him in silence.
"Always remember today, girl. The day your desires bring you results. The day you found victory in your passion." he laughed, shimmering as he faded out.
As she descended the ancient steps into the temple's guts, she tried numerous different mental gymnastics to justify her actions. She wanted, no needed, to find some way to make what she was doing feel less morally gray.
She was so busy trying to right her own world, she didn't hear the sound of heavy stone grinding against metal off in the distance above her. | A temple on a long lost planet. Rumored to be the key to all of the secrets of the force. Two apprentices of different sides of the force had travelled long and far to discover these secrets. They met in the dark depths of the temple. Torches were lit on the walls and the dim orange light was all they had to guide them. They battled... Not with lightsaber or powers. Words would be the weapon to defeat the enemy on this holy ground.
The robed Twi'lek stood, quietly, in meditation. Her arms tucked into the sleeves of her traditional jedi robes. Her blue skin on her face was the only thing visible. Her gaze was set on the dark figure across from her.
A tall human, though his skin tone would prove otherwise, as it looked almost grey. He was dressed in all black robes with onrnamental armor adorning the chest and sleeves. He paced the room his golden eyes locked onto her.
"Why must you persist with your backwards veiws of serenity and peace, locked in your 'meditations'" .
he sneered
The Jedi was silent
"Do you feel nothing? No emotion? No passion?" the Sith warrior cocked his head in disbelief as he continued. The Jedi still refused to answer.
"You Jedi preach of peace, teach younglings that violence is not the way, while carrying lightsabers! Hypocrisy at its finest." the Sith shook his head
"I carry a weapon to defend myself and innocents from those who would do harm. My strength comes from my conection to the force through peaceful meditation, not blinding rage and over emotional outbursts" the Jedi finally spoke. Her voice was soft and calm
The Sith, feeling insulted scoffed
"Strength? You dont know strength. You only know the comfort of hiding in your temple."
"Why do the Sith insist on insulting everyone they come in contact with? Is it possible that you feel inadequate in comparison? Or maybe you're just insecure." the Jedi's insult was sharp, but her voice still soft and controled. She had not moved
The Sith gritted his teeth and dashed forward, aided by the force. His movement was swift and practiced, he was cleary skilled. He stopped mere inches from the Jedi. Their noses nearly touched.
"You will watch your tone jedi, or i will show you what passion and rage can do" the Sith snarled his hand palming the hilt of his lightsaber.
Under the sleeve of her robe the Jedi had a firm grip her own weapon. Ready for the imminet and inevitable attack.
"Another empty threat, Sith Lord?" her inflection heavy on 'lord'. His scowl intensified. His eyes widened. He bared teeth and prepared to strike
He found however that he could not move. Looking at the Jedi in front of him he saw a reflection of his own thought. Neither of them could move.
"What sort of Jedi trickery is this?! He demanded
"I am also unable to move you simpleton, what good would this be?" she sarcastically retorted
From the darkness a figure emerged. His arm outstretched holding them in stasis.
"Enough of your squabbling!" his authoritative voice boomed.
"Neither of you will ever learn the secrets of this temple until you can learn balance. Until you can understand what the force truly is." he lowered his arm. The two apprentices stumbled as they were freed from the stasis field. The third figure stepped into the light. A dark complected man with a salt and pepper beard dressed in dark gray robes. Stood before them.
"And what might that be?" the Sith spoke up
"The force is neither light or dark. The Sith cannot be without the Jedi. The Jedi will never survive without the Sith. Without darkness there can be no light. You see.. The true nature of the force is gray."
*Sorry for the bad grammar, spelling, and sentance structure.
| |
[WP] A Jedi and a Sith debate their Philosophies | "The galaxy cannot be left in its natural evolution. Tell me, thousands of years of jedi rule and sith absence, what happened to your precious Republic?"
"It fell in to wars perpetuated by Sith aggression and plot."
"Thats dishonest, and you know it. Wars always tugged and pulled at it. And the clone wars was eruption at the frustration towards a system kept failing half a galaxies worth of people. A system that didnt understand the nature of people, based on dogmatic jedi belief. You hid in your temple, watched the suffering of countless, only coming out to interfere when "a disturbance in the balance" happened." There was a mocking tone in her voice. Her choleric anger erupting out of her like a volcano, the armour clad warrior paced in front of the jedi.
"Oh? Tell me, what is the nature of people then?" His calm, composed demeanor agitated the Sith. He didnt behave like a real human being to her, his detachment felt abnormal. She knew the question was a trap, to lure her into a linguistic or philosophical counter, but she pressed on, confident in her beliefs.
"It needs to be suppressed! If peace and enlightenment is the ultimate goal for everyone, it cannot be accomplished by letting them loose with no understanding of the greater picture. Short sighted people make selfish decisions, selfish decisions bring down the likes of the Republic."
"Is that so?" The jedi stood as still as temple pillars. His eyes tracking the angered warrior, ready to draw his weapon in case she lit her sabre. He only half concentrated in the conversation. He knew the unbelievable potential of force users. Trans human speeds of attack, strength enhanced by the living force. Just the simple task of keeping your enemy from shutting your weapon was daunting when against a force user.
"Only when it is subjugated and broken, can it be rebuilt. If we take the reigns of power, we can insure change for the better. Passive apathy by those who can insure change only breeds resentment and chaos."
"And just how much power will you need to do this? To affect every aspect of life like you say so?"
"A lot" she said with grim determination.
"The answer is never enough. Every time you try to bring in change better or for worse, you will trample on the freedoms of the innocent. You will be met with resistance, and your authoritarian response will generate even more rebellion. Leading to war."
"How is the jedi response any better? How is leaving the galaxy to constant strife any better? When was it ever gonna get better?" She said in a hissing tone. Her voice giving evidence to her dwindling patience.
"Trust in the direction of the force."
"Your anthropomorphized interpretation of natural forces is not an answer!" She boomed this time. She was sick of hearing old dogma to her questions.
"You deny the actions of the force?" His question more curious than rhetorical. Almost as if she was being intentionally ignorant.
"When gravity pulls us down, i do not put an intention or a face to it, jedi!" Her answer stung the word jedi as an insult.
"Then you are lost." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
It was time, she activated her lightsaber and the weapon glowed with Red anger. "You either will leave or be trampled by me." She threatened in a menacing attack stance.
"Only the Sith deal with absolutes." He retorted in classic jedi doctrine and activated the calm blue of his blade.
She sent back the sentence. "Thats an absolute."
It was. He lost his concentration on the now to rethink the sentence, maybe re remember a piece of wisdom to reinforce it. By the time he reeled out of his train of thought, she already was moving on him.
| A temple on a long lost planet. Rumored to be the key to all of the secrets of the force. Two apprentices of different sides of the force had travelled long and far to discover these secrets. They met in the dark depths of the temple. Torches were lit on the walls and the dim orange light was all they had to guide them. They battled... Not with lightsaber or powers. Words would be the weapon to defeat the enemy on this holy ground.
The robed Twi'lek stood, quietly, in meditation. Her arms tucked into the sleeves of her traditional jedi robes. Her blue skin on her face was the only thing visible. Her gaze was set on the dark figure across from her.
A tall human, though his skin tone would prove otherwise, as it looked almost grey. He was dressed in all black robes with onrnamental armor adorning the chest and sleeves. He paced the room his golden eyes locked onto her.
"Why must you persist with your backwards veiws of serenity and peace, locked in your 'meditations'" .
he sneered
The Jedi was silent
"Do you feel nothing? No emotion? No passion?" the Sith warrior cocked his head in disbelief as he continued. The Jedi still refused to answer.
"You Jedi preach of peace, teach younglings that violence is not the way, while carrying lightsabers! Hypocrisy at its finest." the Sith shook his head
"I carry a weapon to defend myself and innocents from those who would do harm. My strength comes from my conection to the force through peaceful meditation, not blinding rage and over emotional outbursts" the Jedi finally spoke. Her voice was soft and calm
The Sith, feeling insulted scoffed
"Strength? You dont know strength. You only know the comfort of hiding in your temple."
"Why do the Sith insist on insulting everyone they come in contact with? Is it possible that you feel inadequate in comparison? Or maybe you're just insecure." the Jedi's insult was sharp, but her voice still soft and controled. She had not moved
The Sith gritted his teeth and dashed forward, aided by the force. His movement was swift and practiced, he was cleary skilled. He stopped mere inches from the Jedi. Their noses nearly touched.
"You will watch your tone jedi, or i will show you what passion and rage can do" the Sith snarled his hand palming the hilt of his lightsaber.
Under the sleeve of her robe the Jedi had a firm grip her own weapon. Ready for the imminet and inevitable attack.
"Another empty threat, Sith Lord?" her inflection heavy on 'lord'. His scowl intensified. His eyes widened. He bared teeth and prepared to strike
He found however that he could not move. Looking at the Jedi in front of him he saw a reflection of his own thought. Neither of them could move.
"What sort of Jedi trickery is this?! He demanded
"I am also unable to move you simpleton, what good would this be?" she sarcastically retorted
From the darkness a figure emerged. His arm outstretched holding them in stasis.
"Enough of your squabbling!" his authoritative voice boomed.
"Neither of you will ever learn the secrets of this temple until you can learn balance. Until you can understand what the force truly is." he lowered his arm. The two apprentices stumbled as they were freed from the stasis field. The third figure stepped into the light. A dark complected man with a salt and pepper beard dressed in dark gray robes. Stood before them.
"And what might that be?" the Sith spoke up
"The force is neither light or dark. The Sith cannot be without the Jedi. The Jedi will never survive without the Sith. Without darkness there can be no light. You see.. The true nature of the force is gray."
*Sorry for the bad grammar, spelling, and sentance structure.
| |
[WP] Cats are said to have 9 lives and now, humans do too. When a human dies, they retain the knowledge they learned in their previous life, becoming more and more skilled/knowledgeable with each passing life. You're a person on their 7th life, consoling someone who has just "died" for the 1st time. | My son was four when he woke up screaming in the night. I ran to him, preparing to shoo away the vestiges of some childhood nightmare, armed with a flashlight and a teddy bear. It wasn't such an unusual event – he had an active imagination, like most children that age – but something about the depth of that scream spoke of a truer terror than most four year olds could conjure. The screaming stopped abruptly as I opened his door.
“Sweetheart?” My son was sitting stock still in his bed, hands clamped over his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror and they followed me as I walked into the room and around to the side of his bed. I sat on the edge of his mattress and slowly, so slowly, he took his hands away from his mouth. He stared at me, eyes still wide. In the dim glow of his window I saw his skin gleamed with sweat.
“Sweetheart, are you not feeling well?” I reached a hand toward his forehead to check his temperature, but he shied away like a spooked colt. His back flattened against his pillows. “What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” I found myself clutching the teddy bear in growing concern.
“W-who are you?” my son asked, but not in my son's voice. His childish lisp was replaced with a hard, almost hollow voice that sounded years – decades – older than it should. Once his silence was broken, he continued hurriedly, in rising panic. “Where am I? What is this place? I was...I was near the spring, and the horses were drinking – where are the horses? Andrea was at the fire and William had gone off to scare up a rabbit or two....” His voice faltered and he looked around, confusion and alarm now battling on his round little boy's face. His eyes looked aged and scared as they met mine again, and I tried to look as harmless and comforting as I could.
“What's your name?” I asked. My son looked surprised, but answered immediately.
“Will Barkley, ma'am. Do you know where my wife and son have gone to?”
“I'm sorry, Will, I don't know. They're not here,” I said. His eyes strayed around the room again, then landed on the stuffed animal in my hand. For a moment, my son's eyes widened again, then his little boy body sagged into the pillows as the fear was replaced with sadness.
“There was a loud roar, and a scream. It was terrible. And then...pain. Will was screaming, Andrea was screaming, a gun went off. That must've been William. The horses – trampled me trying to get away. And I fell into the stream.” He wiped the beading sweat from his brow in a very un-childlike way. “I need to get back and find them, the horses had all our gear...Andrea and my boy will need my help.”
I laid my hand on his and he didn't shy away this time. “Will, there's no going back now. You've got to go ahead. There's a whole new life waiting for you – actually, it's already begun. Don't you remember?” I leaned across him to turn on his bedside lamp, illuminating the stacked picture books on this little table, and the scattered toys and bric-a-brac of his bedroom. The light glared off the framed photo of my mother squeezing the daylights out of her grandson at our trip to the zoo last summer. My son's eyes squinted at the photo and he sighed.
“But...Will Jr. and my wife?” he asked.
“They'll have gone on by now, too. They've made it just fine. We all do, eventually. I've done it many times,” I told him, squeezing his hand. “Going on isn't the hard part, it's all the living in between. You had...Andrea...and a lot of other people to help you along before; now, you have me. Not everyone remembers what it's like to live one life, then another, but I can help you.”
Comprehension flooded his face. I felt my heart lurch a little, as he understood what I had learned myself over the centuries. I had never met another person who could remember the times before, like I could. For me, there had never been a true ending, just a series of new beginnings. My past lives lived on inside me in broken bits of memory and sensation. Some were wonderful, and some were terrible, like my son's memory of the death of Will Barkley. My own deaths, 6 so far, glinted in my mind like dark punctuation marks on the pages of my book of lives.
I smiled and drew my little boy into a hug. “Casey, Casey, it's time to wake up now,” I said, my breath in his ear. The stiffness in his little limbs drained away like water, and slowly his chubby fingers curled into my hair.
“Mommy?” my son's voice sounded much more like his own again. He withdrew his hand from my shoulder and ground his little fist into his eye sleepily. “The man in the hat was scared.”
“I know, sweetie. He's got nothing to be scared of now, it's time for him to rest.” I kissed the top of my baby's head and tucked him in again. He would forget this, by tomorrow. Maybe he would never remember it again – but if he did, I would be there with him, to share his life before.
| "You just lost the first one Daniel, no biggie. You still have eight more lifetimes to experience the wonder of life." I said in a monotone voice looking straight into the blue eyes of a young couple's crawling newborn baby.
The baby slowly moved one inch rainbow colored letters to form words on the floor.
"You weren't there. You didn't experience the pain of my car crash. My legs got crushed under the motor. A rat found me and as I couldn't move an inch it devoured down my right foot like a happy meal." A stern look appeared on Daniel's face.
He held it the time it took his voluptuous mother to kneel down, pick him up, and kiss him on his forehead. An ear shattering cry rose up.
"There, there, my Jackqualine, all will be well." The mother said in a hushing voice while putting her tit on his lips. Astonishment hit his face with a soft push.
"The pain is already gone. After the fifth life you can barely even remember your first name. Sorrow will change to joy and back to hell, in an instant. It is meaningless to stay stuck on one point in the line. I am already on my seventh life, and I am not panicking even though I just found out I have testicular cancer." I said without barely even moving my lips.
The nipple sucking baby stared for a while, pushed his mother away and stumbled back to the floor. Quickly words sprung up around him.
"What about my beautiful wife then? She is already 34 years old while I am stuck in this tiny form sucking milk from a random woman's bosom. She won't wait for me to grow up." Daniel's arms flew like a berserk chihuahua around the lump of letters.
"I already did my research on your closed ones. You know, you had a six month waiting period before you were reborn. She already found a new man and they moved together. She accidentally became pregnant and is carrying a healthy boy. Also, your dog has been donated to a Chinese couple. And as usual, 98% of your wealth went to the government as it was just your first life. You still have your parents with you, though. They are waiting for you to make second contact. If you just give me the word, I will call them." I replied with a hint of sorry, raising and turning my arms a little.
With an empty look, Daniel turned away and dragged himself back to his mother's comforting warmth. | |
[WP]: Inmate #6, Vaughan Breeks. 5'6, 18 years old, about 120 pounds. Nicknamed Kitten. The most feared man in the colony. | The water meandered at a steady pace around my ankles. I could feel the small fish knock against me, taking test nibbles of my feet. I had been standing in the creek for several minutes, but it wasn't the cold November weather that chilled me.
It was Kitten.
We were allowed to fish the waters, that had long been established. The shock of seeing those dead, brown eyes -- like a shark in the shadows of the limitless blue -- had made me drop my pole. The water had chosen sides and had accepted it with a silent knowing, sweeping it downstream. I was alone, and weaponless.
Kitten was unassuming. Small in stature, a messy thatch of black hair on his head, his resting expression that of unending boredom, he was easily overlooked. However, those that knew him -- or knew of him -- were locked in fear at the sound of his name.
Kitten wasn't his real name, of course. It was a nickname. It was brilliant, too, and the prevailing rumor was that he gave it to himself. Such a soft, cuddly image to apply to such an effective instrument of death. It was this very dichotomy that helped secure his place as the most feared man in the Colony.
His real name was Vaughan Breeks. His official name was Inmate #6. The guards refused to use the nickname, at least during count or inspection or any official business. I had heard some rookies slip and refer to him as "Kitten", but they were promptly corrected.
Breeks came from a long family lineage of legend. His father, Phillineas Breeks, was the first and only man in all the Colonies to be water-shredded as an execution tactic. It's as brutal as it sounds, and word had it that he smiled until his dying breath. Kitten's grandfather was directly responsible for the creation of The Brigade, as well as The Five Principals.
Quite a namesake, creating the law of the land.
Then there was the fact that these were all just rumors. No one in the Colony, at least not our Colony, had ever set eyes on a Breeks and lived to talk about it. Stories were told at arms length -- "my friend", or "my uncle", or "I heard once..." -- and there were details always lost to time.
So it was understandable -- justified, I would say -- that I was frozen to that spot in the creek, Breeks' dower stare darkening with each passing second. The creek stood as the demarcation point between Breeks' confinement and the rest of the Colony. Though we were allowed to fish, we were not to cross. A large rocky outcropping split the creek in half at several points, and was generally assumed to be impassible.
Though today, there he was. Kitten had found a way to the top.
We stood for several seconds, the water rushing past my now numb feet, staring at each other. I understood in that moment that no emotion was just as terrifying as anger or bloodlust. He just stared at me, blank, unmoving.
As I once again became aware of my surroundings, and the numbness in my feet had moved to painful stabs, he smiled.
He smiled.
It was an eerie smile, and set me even more at unease. He crouched on the outcropping, which was nearly 20 feet higher than the creek. Beckoning, he motioned for me to climb up with him.
Then he stood, stopped smiling, turned, and disappeared behind the rock.
I had no idea what to do. | Looking through the records I often wondered why Mr. Breeks, henceforth to be referred to as Kitten, was given the #6. There were plenty before him, yet this number was saved for Kitten. After an interview with Kitten I happened upon the warden in the dark hallways. When asked why this number he gave a simple yet chilling reply, "The man is perfect, such as the number 6 is in math". In that moment it hit me what had been so off putting about his presence in the maximum security prison.
I had been interviewing him for a few weeks now, I was doing my thesis on the prison system and the effects it...blah blah blah. That part doesn't matter, what is critical to understand is that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the Kitten. He was extremely pleasant, quite small in stature, and overall soothing to be around. He did make this odd purring noise here and there that makes you wonder how he could be so damn calm in this place.
The reports said that he had murdered his parents in cold blood and devoured them. Things didn't add up though, his father was nearly two and a half times his size and he adored his parents from what he has said. The only unnerving thing was that after spending an extended amount of time with him one could start to feel inadequate. Maybe even a little jealousy, Kitten was as charming and intelligent as anyone you've ever met. It wasn't fair.
Going back to my house on the way home a thought couldn't but help cross my mind. One that sent shivers down my spine but had to be asked, maybe it was better he was in there. Not because of what hes been accused of, rather the simple fact people like him make everyone else look bad. I felt entranced in his presence, almost as if I would do anything he asked of me. He was as cute as could be, a little too much. The jealousy was creeping in again, I think I was starting to realize why he was in there.
Racing back to the prison I quickly made my way to the wardens office, I had to know the truth. Walking into the office I told the warden I was there to talk about Kitten. Surprisingly the warden replied, "You've figured out the reason why we have placed Kitten here haven't you?" I proposed my theory knowing in my heart the truth, the warden confirmed my darkest fears. "A perfect being such as the Kitten comes once a millennia, a certain group watches for this", slowly said the warden.
The warden spoke of much more but it all became a blur, this shadow group he spoke of had killed the Kitten's parents and framed him. They couldn't allow Kitten to go out into the world and show people how good they could be. No, Kitten will die in jail no one ever knowing the beauty and hope he could inspire. Darkly I thought that was best, change didn't need to happen I liked things how they were. Someone like Kitten scares me, I bet he's the most feared man in the colony. | |
[WP] Write a love story between two lonely ship capitans whose only means of communication is Morse code | -- -.-- -.. . .- .-. .. ... .- -... . .-.. .-.. .- --··-- .. .-.. --- --- -.- .- -.-. .-. --- ... ... - .... . .-- .- ...- . ... .- -. -.. .- -- .-. . -- .. -. -.. . -.. --- ..-. - .... . -.. .. ... - .- -. -.-. . -... . - .-- . . -. ..- ... ·-·-·- - .... . --. ..- .-.. .-.. ... --- -. --. -... .-. .. -. --. ... -- . - --- - .... .- - -.. .- -.-- .-- . -- . - ·-·-·- - .... . ... .- .-.. - .- .. .-. ... .. .--. .--. . -.. .- - --- ..- .-. ... -.- .. -. .- -. -.. .... .- .. .-. --- -. - .... . .--. .. . .-. - .... .- - -.. .- -.-- --··-- .- -. -.. .. -- .- -. .- --. . -.. - --- -- .- - -.-. .... - .... .- - ..-. .. .-. ... - ..-. .-.. .. .-. - .. -. --. .-- .. - .... -.-- --- ..- .-. . -.-- . ... ·-·-·- .-- .. - .... .- ..-. .. .-. ... - .-.. --- --- -.- .-- . -.- -. . .-- ·-·-·- .-- . -... . --. .- -. -- .- .-. -.- .. -. --. --- ..- .-. -.. .- -.-- ... .-- .. - .... ... .... .- .-. . -.. ... ..- -. ... . - ... --··-- --- ..- .-. ..-. .. -. --. . .-. ... -.. .- -. -.-. . -.. --- -. . .- -.-. .... --- - .... . .-. ·----· ... .--. .- .-.. -- ... .- ... .. ..-. - .... . -.-- .-- . .-. . -. --- -... .-.. . ... --- -. .- -... .- .-.. .-.. .-. --- --- -- .-. --- --- -- ..-. .-.. --- --- .-. --··-- --- ..- .-. .-- .... .. ... .--. . .-. ... ... ..- -. --. --- ..-. - --- -- --- .-. .-. --- .-- ·----· ... -.. .-. . .- -- ... --··-- .- -. -.. --- ..- .-. .-.. .. .--. ... --··-- --- .... --- ..- .-. .-.. .. .--. ... --··-- .... --- .-- - .... . -.-- .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. ... .--. . -. -.. - .... --- ... . -.. .- -.-- ... ·-·-·- .- ... - .... . -- --- --- -. .--. ..- .-.. .-.. ... - .... . --- -.-. . .- -. ..-. .-. --- -- - .... . -... . .- -.-. .... . ... --··-- .-- . .-- . .-. . .--. ..- .-.. .-.. . -.. ..-. .-. --- -- . .- -.-. .... --- - .... . .-. ·-·-·- .- - -.. .. ..-. ..-. . .-. . -. - .--. --- .-. - ... --··-- .-- . -.-- . .- .-. -. . -.. - --- -... . .. -. . .- -.-. .... --- - .... . .-. ·----· ... .- .-. -- ... .- --. .- .. -. ·-·-·- - .... .- - ·----· ... .-- .... .- - -.. .-. . .-- ..- ... -... --- - .... - --- ... .- .. .-.. .. -. --. ·-·-·- .- -. -.. -. --- .-- --··-- .-- . .- .-. . -... ..- - .-.. .. - . .-. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- .--. .- ... ... .. -. --. ... .... .. .--. ... .. -. - .... . --- -.-. . .- -. ·-·-·- .. .-- .-. .. - . -.-- --- ..- - .... --- ..- --. .... - --- -.. .- -.-- .-- .. - .... ... .- -.. -. . ... ... --- -. -- -.-- -- .. -. -.. ·-·-·- .. ·----· ...- . ..-. .- .-.. .-.. . -. .. .-.. .-.. --··-- .- -. -.. -- -.-- ... .... .. .--. ·----· ... .--. .... -.-- ... .. -.-. .. .- -. ... .- .. -.. .. .--. .-. --- -... .- -... .-.. -.-- .-- --- -. - -- .- -.- . .. - - --- .--. --- .-. - ·-·-·- .. .... .- -.. - --- .-- .-. .. - . - --- -.-- --- ..- .- - .-.. . .- ... - --- -. -.-. . -- --- .-. . - .... --- ..- --. .... --··-- .. ... .- -... . .-.. .-.. .- ·-·-·- .. .-- .- -. - . -.. - --- ... .- -.-- .- ..-. .. -. .- .-.. - .. -- . --··-- ·-··-· --. --- --- -.. -... -.-- . --··-- .- -. -.. .. .-.. --- ...- . -.-- --- ..- ·-·-·- ·-··-· .--. .-.. . .- ... . --··-- .. ... .- -... . .-.. .-.. .- .-. . -- . -- -... . .-. -- . .. -. - .... . --. ..- .-.. .-.. ... --- -. --. .- -. -.. - .... . ... ..- -. ... . - ... ·-·-·- .--. .-.. . .- ... . -... .-. . .- - .... . -.. . . .--. .-.. -.-- - .... . ... .-- . . - ... .- .-.. - .- .. .-. ·-·-·- .- -. -.. .--. .-.. . .- ... . -.. --- -. ·----· - -- --- ..- .-. -. -- . --··-- ..-. --- .-. .- ... - .... . -- --- --- -. .--. ..- .-.. .-.. ... - .... . ... . .- ..-. .-. --- -- - .... . ... .... --- .-. . --··-- .. - .--. ..- .-.. .-.. ... - .... . -- -... .- -.-. -.- - --- --. . - .... . .-. --··-- - --- --- ·-·-·- .-- . .-- .. .-.. .-.. -- . . - .. -. - .... . -. . -..- - .-.. .. ..-. . --··-- -- -.-- .-.. --- ...- . --··-- -.-. .... .- .-. .-.. .. .
---
Translated:
My dear Isabella,
I look across the waves and am reminded of the distance between us. The gull song brings me to that day we met. The salt air sipped at our skin and hair on the pier that day, and I managed to match that first flirting with your eyes. With a first look we knew. We began marking our days with shared sunsets; our fingers danced on each other's palms as if they were nobles on a ballroom room floor; our whispers sung of tomorrow's dreams; and our lips, oh our lips, how they would spend those days. As the moon pulls the ocean from the beaches, we were pulled from each other. At different ports, we yearned to be in each other's arms again. That's what drew us both to sailing. And now, we are but literally passing ships in the ocean. I write you though today with sadness on my mind. I've fallen ill, and my ship's physician said I probably wont make it to port. I had to write to you at least once more though, Isabella. I wanted to say a final time, "Goodbye, and I love you." Please, Isabella remember me in the gull song and the sunsets. Please breathe deeply the sweet salt air. And please don't mourn me, for as the moon pulls the sea from the shore, it pulls them back together, too.
We will meet in the next life, my love,
Charlie | "Captain Loomis never talked much of his personal life, and if all his interactions are as bizarre as those long months at sea, I think he had good reason not to.
It began on a particularly muddy night, fog so thick you had to paddle through it. It was slow going. Then, it was only me, Arty, and Loomis on the deck, the rest of us stowed away for dark. Arty and me were shooting the shit, it wasn't often we had time to talk together. I liked Arty, shame what happened to him. Anyway, it was Arty and me on deck, the captain up in the bridge, when we see the steady blinking red of another freighter about a mile off. They must've seen us, too, since they started the whole exchange.
They blinked us. *E-v-e-n-i-n-g.* Evening! You don't waste the effort to Morse someone something so cordial, but there it was. Loomis was as puzzled as we were. He blinks them back *short-short-long-long-short-short*, a question mark. The short of it is they, a ship christened *Stargazer*, were lost. Shit you not. An international freighter lost on the Pacific. We were wary at first. No captain worth his waves gets lost, and no crew worthy of their bunks on board lets it happen, either. We stopped our course, as did they. They explained, over a single blinking light, mind you, that their nav equipment had gone sour and traditional means meant balls-all in that weather, and if we could point them to the nearest land mass they'd be delighted. So we did and we went on our way and had a story to tell when we docked.
But here's where things get... not normal. The next push off, we run into them again. Even introduced ourselves this time after they identified themselves again as *Stargazer*. What are the chances? Well, I guess it's not too funny with shipping routes and all, but never mind. The real funny thing is, Loomis and this other ship actually hit it off. Over signal lamp! They sign Morse back and forth for about an hour. Loomis even told a joke, something about a crow's nest and an actual crow. It wasn't funny, but *Stargazer* blinked back a laugh: *H-a-h-a*. Arty and I, by some twist of fate together again on the night crew, couldn't believe it. The captain blinks goodnight and we part again.
So when we meet the *Stargazer* a third time on a third voyage, we aren't very surprised. Loomis assigned me and Art to official night shift because we had been the only witnesses, and I guess he wanted to keep it that way. And when the *Stargazer*'s red lights appeared again in the distance, the captains were back it.
We ran into that ship six more times over two years, and each time something sparked in Loomis' eye. He'd be resigned as ever in the bridge, sipping on bad coffee, and those red lights would come into view about half way through our course and he'd light up, rush to the signal lamp. I'd never seen the man so fond of anything, nothing could get that stern mouth of his up in a smile like that other ship could. And each time, he'd be smiling like a bowl of daisies up in his bridge, cheeks rosy and eyes tinkling. I may be a fool for saying so, but I insist the man was in love. In love with that blinking light across the water." | |
[WP] Earth was never meant to habitable. It was meant to be a prison for the worst creatures in the universe. Today, the jailers have landed to inspect their prison. | “Captain, we are getting closer to Prison Planet 42. The shields are on maximum just as procedure. The computer started to analyze the data from the planet and close surroundings.”
“Thank you lieutenant, continue. Let me know if any of the prisoners are still alive.”
The science officer who was there to represent the Queen’s interest, was quite surprised by the results of the findings. He just shouted: “Bloody hell, that is impossible.”
“What’s wrong Doc?” - asked the Captain.
“They are still alive. Not just alive but thriving. I don’t believe this. 200 thousand local years ago when we dropped these so called humans in this planet we were sure they’re going to die here. This planet is a perfect prison planet. Most of its land covered by water, constantly changing climate and weather. Not to mention the plenty of local species which could kill us within a short period of time. They’ve killed all other species on their origin planet without even a second thought. The empire had to do something without upsetting its citizens since all life equal. So we brought them here.”
“Thank you Doc, that is enough. I’m familiar with the history.”
As they were thinking about what they should do next, the alarm went off on the bridge loudly. But not for long. Within 5 seconds there was only debris in the place of the spaceship.
And the space-junk just got a little bit bigger around Earth. | (PART 1) "Must be the storms coming in from the north, its like-like every year this happens around spring break..", its six in the morning as I unwillingly eavesdrop on the early morning phone call Miko takes, "..cant it be any other week? Like perhaps a week where weather doesnt exist?". Miko cant help but make the world appear falling apart when dramatising about our year long planned trip to the Virgin Islands. Neither of us have ever been to a beach before, and through the years of our friendship, or rather 'bro-mance', we would often go to raves or out hiking around the national park near us to escape our reality. We met in our sophomore year of college..almost five years ago now..and have since been in the same boat, which is; college debt, broken relationships, hangovers, terrible job interviews and ultimately our dropping out of college during our junior year.
Content is a word I could use to describe the flow of life at the moment. Nothing spikes up out of control on the richter scale enough to stress me out, of course being a barista is neither the easiest or hardest of the jobs to have. Every morning when i'm not awakened earlier than I should be from Miko my schedule sees me working out for an hour including a light swim at the indoor community apartment pool. Both forms of exercise put my senses into a state of euphoria, eventually so much so that addictive thoughts of it form when im at work brewing coffee. My love for getting a smooth cardio exercise in is almost on par with my love for coffee, hence me working as a barista, and unfortunately with a wasted degree in Psychology.
"Listen man if we see the storms happening again like last year down there, because look..I see..I can see on the radar the patch of severe coming through. So if that stays then once again me and Xander wont be able to make it and we'll cancel our trips." Miko explains to his college friend whom I never met and coincidentally owns a shop at one of the hotels at Charlotte-Amolie, that the hurricane is too much of a problem to make it down there. Finally he hangs up the phone.
" So if we end up cancelling im gonna just call work and have them fill me in for next week, more money isnt a bad option." Miko listens and shows a face of dissapointment.
"Dude you always work, I mean I know this trip probably wont happen but at least im trying to think positive for it. Why do you want to give up so soon?"
"Yeah I know, life is crazy man but I still have to prepare for emergencies or random excursions. The trip isnt likely to happen so ill just save more money for a roadtrip or something."
"Sure, whatever works for you. You getting ready for work?"
Its around seven in the morning now and my shift isnt for another few hours. My alarm was set at eight so im contemplating getting a few more minutes of shuteye, or a quick workout. Slowly the choices of the two and the quick passing of minute after minute before work stresses me out. First, the trip isnt happening and secondly I want a raise, suddenly my mind is forming tributaries of doubt. My eyes are dreary.
"Was going to take a swim then a shower and leave, im beyond tired though." What was my last day before vacation turned into an average monday.
" Cool, I got the day off so im just going to use it for sleep." Which he does immediately after saying that, quite selfishly seeing as he woke me up.
Looking out the window onto the shiny concrete wet from a light drizzle under the grey sky I imagine myself just walking. Step after step there grows a picture, of life passing by endlessly like a photo album showing me memories ive forgotten. The clouds and scent of rain triggers my brain to start heading down memory lane, none are specific enough to detail every little thing placed in it but the common trait in them is the atmosphere. Whether its the slow moving wall of cumulonimbus clouds rolling in over the city or the lush and colorful sun rays hitting through them, my first observation is the sky with my memories relying on it.
Lately my head has been on the outer reaches of the solar system it seems, searching for signs of commonalities to what ive seen or can relate to. As is the minds of many human beings like myself, living and wondering until the end meets. Certain few actually put the pieces together for all of us to progress and explore while laying a foundation for humankind to add on to.
What if my studies were wasted on Psychology? Cant turn back time yet I feel as though I made a mistake not choosing another subject. Possibly a degree in Physics & Astronomy could have been a better choice, or a more fulfilling one at least.
As those thoughts stay steady my body goes on autopilot and gets ready for another day of work. Coffee will take my mind off of it. | |
[WP] Earth was never meant to habitable. It was meant to be a prison for the worst creatures in the universe. Today, the jailers have landed to inspect their prison. | ------------------
(PART 2)...Few days later...
Alarm rings. My bed is messy, as well as my hair. Sounds of metal and bags being moved around escape from the living room into my bedroom. Miko is already packed and im halfway there as well, but just waking up I have really no time until the uber gets here to take us to the airport.
In a drastic change of heart and self convincing I decided to give the trip a shot regardless of the possible dangers of the hurricane following the waters to Virgin Islands. Miko of course worried like me, was much more enthusiastic of the trip. Maybe I was going against my own will and testing my mental strength to overcome fears because being trapped in a possible hurricane is a worrisome advenure. Though the airlines didnt seem to have a problem, seeing as they booked us a day later than originally planned..must mean the storm isnt as much of a threat.
Outside our uber awaits, im still barely packed but the anxiety of being late forces me to hurry. Every few minutes the sun brightens up the skies, while just over the hill you could see the outline of the sun itself rise. Again looking through the window I can see city streets below. Roads are rather empty for a tuesday morning, with not many people on the sidewalks oddly enough. Granted the city of Raleigh isnt exactly heralded as a busy area like NYC but any downtown area on a Tuesday morning is going to be somewhat filled with a crazy crowd of people trying to get to work.
"Hey Miko ill be ready in a few!...Miko?"
As I walk into the living room there he stands staring directly into our TV, just staring. Im looking at him instead of the Tv until I hear what was being said:
"This is an emergency. Please stand by....."
Words ive never heard unless it was a severe thunderstorm, but this was not the same. The colors consisting of red, yellow, blue, white and green filled the monitor like it was the screen you see for a nuclear war being born. Never have I witnessed this but im also wondering if its a technical error?
"Miko im confused what do you think is happening?"
" Uhh im not too sure but im on edge right now, this is not supposed to happen, whatever it is thats going on."
"It could be an error or something, let me call our cable company."
The wi-fi is somewhat weak. In fact its completely cut off. Our electricity around the apartment is also shutting down, now aside from the sunlight reaching in, the entire apartment is dark. Pulling my phone out I can see that the pattern of going dark now applies to mobile devices. Literally everything I see is shutoff including the TV, no longer is the 'emergency alert' message showing either.
Coming from my bedroom I can hear my alarm awakening again, it decides to play multiple music stations comparable to someone quickly turning through radio stations. Sounds of music, talk shows, commercials all just endlessly being played in a carousel until it sticks to one station finally. Then it shuts back off. Quickly I race into my room to study my alarm clock, and as I try to figure out whats wrong a light brighter than two suns filled my room with blinding impact.
For a few seconds I cant see. My vision comes back and now here I am again, looking out through the window. The atmosphere paints a color of near red, and green following what looks like the widest chemtrail ive ever seen leading down the sky into the horizon. From a distance and a quick seconds worth of a glance I could see the object causing this rather frightening last couple minutes. It appeared to be a meteor. The size even from a distance was gigantic, like looking at the moon in the night and being able to put your index finger and thumb around it, measuring no more than the size of a quarter. Before I knew it, the meteor was gone but in the distance of the horizon I could somehow see the impact.
This was all happening too quickly. I want to call out to Miko but all I can do is observe as I stand frozen looking at what was likely a comet rather than a meteor. Im at this point starting to feel weak and almost completely out of touch with whats happening, I want to desperately wake up from a dream and in the comfort of knowing im going to work. This was it, no species exists after an impact that can be seen from thousands of miles away. The mushroom cloud forms like a nuclear bomb, only this was the cause of a comet that likely landed somewhere in asia judging by the size of it and where it was leading to.
Im now beginning to picture death and utter chaos, as well as memories and what if's. What if we had a longer time on earth? What if this didnt happen? Why did I drop out of class? I couldnt have been more heartless and not call my mom on her birthday, did she still love me? The questions and emotions are making their point, then my mind shifts to a deep mourning for not only myself but for everybody ive ever known or ever existed. To think that our history will be wiped away so easily is a humbling thought, and a nightmare.
These remaining minutes become somewhat relaxing. Miko enters my room, we both express to one another on a different level of consciousness our acknowledgement of the end. Our lives, the life surrounding it and the progress we have made. We dont talk, but rather stand and witness this universal event together as we embark into the unknown.
All anxiety and fear goes away, im now understanding the natural impact of it all. Surprisingly the positives come to light. This is an event of life being started as one is ended, and inside this complex and comfortably made shelter we call an apartment all I can think about is the future.
Vibrations fill the apartment, then it grows and grows stronger as plates fall out of the cabinets and windows start to crack. Earth is shaking violently, and the atmosphere will soon be covered. Im sensing the impact of the comet coming closer like a Tsunami.
"Xander, im glad you changed your mind about the trip."
"It wouldve been nice, seeing the beach. Its beautiful just thinking about it."
| (PART 1) "Must be the storms coming in from the north, its like-like every year this happens around spring break..", its six in the morning as I unwillingly eavesdrop on the early morning phone call Miko takes, "..cant it be any other week? Like perhaps a week where weather doesnt exist?". Miko cant help but make the world appear falling apart when dramatising about our year long planned trip to the Virgin Islands. Neither of us have ever been to a beach before, and through the years of our friendship, or rather 'bro-mance', we would often go to raves or out hiking around the national park near us to escape our reality. We met in our sophomore year of college..almost five years ago now..and have since been in the same boat, which is; college debt, broken relationships, hangovers, terrible job interviews and ultimately our dropping out of college during our junior year.
Content is a word I could use to describe the flow of life at the moment. Nothing spikes up out of control on the richter scale enough to stress me out, of course being a barista is neither the easiest or hardest of the jobs to have. Every morning when i'm not awakened earlier than I should be from Miko my schedule sees me working out for an hour including a light swim at the indoor community apartment pool. Both forms of exercise put my senses into a state of euphoria, eventually so much so that addictive thoughts of it form when im at work brewing coffee. My love for getting a smooth cardio exercise in is almost on par with my love for coffee, hence me working as a barista, and unfortunately with a wasted degree in Psychology.
"Listen man if we see the storms happening again like last year down there, because look..I see..I can see on the radar the patch of severe coming through. So if that stays then once again me and Xander wont be able to make it and we'll cancel our trips." Miko explains to his college friend whom I never met and coincidentally owns a shop at one of the hotels at Charlotte-Amolie, that the hurricane is too much of a problem to make it down there. Finally he hangs up the phone.
" So if we end up cancelling im gonna just call work and have them fill me in for next week, more money isnt a bad option." Miko listens and shows a face of dissapointment.
"Dude you always work, I mean I know this trip probably wont happen but at least im trying to think positive for it. Why do you want to give up so soon?"
"Yeah I know, life is crazy man but I still have to prepare for emergencies or random excursions. The trip isnt likely to happen so ill just save more money for a roadtrip or something."
"Sure, whatever works for you. You getting ready for work?"
Its around seven in the morning now and my shift isnt for another few hours. My alarm was set at eight so im contemplating getting a few more minutes of shuteye, or a quick workout. Slowly the choices of the two and the quick passing of minute after minute before work stresses me out. First, the trip isnt happening and secondly I want a raise, suddenly my mind is forming tributaries of doubt. My eyes are dreary.
"Was going to take a swim then a shower and leave, im beyond tired though." What was my last day before vacation turned into an average monday.
" Cool, I got the day off so im just going to use it for sleep." Which he does immediately after saying that, quite selfishly seeing as he woke me up.
Looking out the window onto the shiny concrete wet from a light drizzle under the grey sky I imagine myself just walking. Step after step there grows a picture, of life passing by endlessly like a photo album showing me memories ive forgotten. The clouds and scent of rain triggers my brain to start heading down memory lane, none are specific enough to detail every little thing placed in it but the common trait in them is the atmosphere. Whether its the slow moving wall of cumulonimbus clouds rolling in over the city or the lush and colorful sun rays hitting through them, my first observation is the sky with my memories relying on it.
Lately my head has been on the outer reaches of the solar system it seems, searching for signs of commonalities to what ive seen or can relate to. As is the minds of many human beings like myself, living and wondering until the end meets. Certain few actually put the pieces together for all of us to progress and explore while laying a foundation for humankind to add on to.
What if my studies were wasted on Psychology? Cant turn back time yet I feel as though I made a mistake not choosing another subject. Possibly a degree in Physics & Astronomy could have been a better choice, or a more fulfilling one at least.
As those thoughts stay steady my body goes on autopilot and gets ready for another day of work. Coffee will take my mind off of it. | |
[WP] Earth was never meant to habitable. It was meant to be a prison for the worst creatures in the universe. Today, the jailers have landed to inspect their prison. | “Exiting subspace FTL in three, two, one…”, announced the flight navigation as blessed gravity again filled the cabin. They had finished their long journey from the Omega Tao cluster at last. He was happy to be back in his own reality and out of the unnerving pressure of the void space. Glancing at the array of panels and screens he was happy to see the Sol system in his scanners.
A quaint little star system, it held one of the most nightmarish places he could imagine nonetheless. A class sigma star with nine planets was hardly anything special but the real prize was the blue ball hidden among the gas giants.
“Sir”, one of his crew began with a look of dread etched onto his face. “It appears we will be arriving at our… destination in approximately fifteen minutes.” The poor lad was obviously overcome with the reputation of the prison planet. Not that he blamed him of course. As the empire’s ships had begun to scan the dark reaches of space, fantastic and strange worlds had come to light every day. Mountains and vistas that put their own to shame and truly bizarre bio scans of other worldly life flooded the interverse with reams of information. One of those finds had been the discovery of the third ball of rock from Sol several million years ago. Named simply, Eath.
“Show some bedrock”, he gave his crew a stern glare as they made the final approach. “It’s not as if any of us will be stranded here!” Nervous chuckles arose from the crew as they came into localized scanning range. The vids back home were more than enough threat for most but he wanted to see this hell for himself. As triscans locked on, a perfect blue sphere circled by a battered moon slowly grew on the main screen. Gasps filled the cabin.
“I’ve never seen that much dihydrogen monoxide in one place!” And this, of course, was true. No other place yet discovered in the universe held as much concentrated water as Eath. It was the reason their species feared this nightmarish landscape more than any other. The substance had been found on occasion across the cosmos but always in its inert solid form. They quickly learned its terrifying effects on their bodies after a crew had accidently heated a sample. Unfortunately, water had the same liquefying effect on them as heat did on it. Little was found of the crew but the on ship vids told the tale in all too vivid detail.
After threats of anarchy and dissent began to tear at the edges of empire space the council began its search. They needed a deterrent strong enough to keep the colonies in line. They found it in Eath. After some devious mind on homeworld stumbled on the vids of that poor research crew, gods rest their souls, the threat of imprisonment on Eath was born. The vids were spread around the interverse as a form of propaganda and a clear warning. If you betray the empire then you will be imprisoned on the most bio hazardous planet ever found. The deadly effect it had on their species was named simply, the melting.
“Making our final descent to orbit sir”, a quiver of fear ran through the cadets. All of them knew the threat that lay under their feet. Eath was the ever-present promise to any and all who dared defy the law of the council. It worked.
The only semi-habitable areas of the planet were large swaths of barren land on the interior of some of the continents. All the rest was covered in an unnatural blanket of pure poison or noxious water filled weeds. The very atmosphere held enough moisture to make one uncomfortable in the least and dreadfully sick at the worst. Enough mineral nutrients could be found to sustain a meager existence if one could avoid the ever present danger. Trace amounts of iron aluminum and, his favorite, copper were available but scarce on the surface. Reports of the liquid substance falling from the sky on almost every location during a Sol rotation made him shake. Life on Eath was the fate that kept their enemies in line. One would be hard pressed to survive long.
“Sir…”, the confusion in his science officer’s voice was palpable as he joined him in front of the ships main console. “There appears to be some sort of sentient life coming up on the scans.”
“Scan again soldier,” he reached for the report. “It must have been a bad reading.” A sense of dread crept into his mind. It was simply not possible that life had found its way to Eath’s surface. All calcium carbonate based life was doomed to a terrible death on the surface. All automated scout reports had read all clear. The very reason they were out here was to drop off the first prisoner to Eath. The poor misguided soul.
“I don’t think it was a faulty reading”, his officer brought up the long range cameras and a detailed rendering filled the main screen. A shocked silence filled the room. The surface of all the continents was crisscrossed by obvious infrastructure as well as dotted by megacities. Adding to the confusion was the concentration of buildings on the edges closest to the oceans.
“By the gods,” he gaped at the screen and asked for an enhanced image on the coastline. As the ships sensors added more detail to the image tall pink beings unlike anything they had ever seen came into focus.
“What type of rock are they made of?” screamed his first mate. “Why are they so close to all of that horrible water?” exclaimed another.
The scene grew clearer as a large band of silica, no doubt torn apart by the dreadful oceans, bordered land and sea. There were hundreds of them laying down on odd rectangles and hiding beneath colorful circles of cloth. The beings could be seen thrashing about in the deadly liquid substance in droves. The worst part being their comrades on land didn’t appear to care in the slightest.
“Why are they not saving their own from such a horrible fate?”, said his bewildered science officer.
He turned to his crew his crew with horror in his rocks. “I don’t think they are dying in the water, I think they are playing in it.” | The Circle, as it were, extends beyond all reasoning and comprehension. Reaching past the petty boundaries of the mortal planes and deep into the depths of astral chaos, they still found a purpose for each and every planet within the nigh-boundless lengths of the mort-realm.
Earth, they decided, was to be a haven for the damned.
Creatures that sailed the cosmos before the true birth of the materium; beasts that tore the flesh of planets and sentients alike; beings that hunted in the cold depths of space. From each and every corner of the Circle, all entities that threatened the divine destiny mapped out for reality were hunted and captured by Hoarders, the fell fetch-beasts of Her'gon.
Battles were waged, civilizations felled, and yet the Hoarders slowly collected each and every creature with potential for destruction. Mighty, shaggy beasts with claws like obsidian; coiled, limbless creatures that waited in the stilldark; wrathful, ravenous bipeds that waged war with no reason nor regard. All rounded up, housed within a mighty Ark, and sentenced to death- not by painless atomic derealization, not by a gentle end in solitary cells- no, such deaths would be too noble for such savages.
Death by bloodshed, at the hands of their fellow Ark-prisoners, aboard the most chaotic planet within the Circle. This was their punishment, to fade away into obscurity, denied even memory, as the records of the damned hell-planet were washed from all but the most obscure recesses of intellicorders.
Crimes of bloodshed, punished by bloodshed, by all masters of such.
The Circle thrived for aeons, no longer occupied by war and disruption. The Hoarders returned to Her'gon, lauded as heroes and saviors. All within all returned to manifest the calling.
And, obscured by boiling clouds and clouded memories, the inhabitants of Earth shed blood. | |
[WP] Marines don't die; they go to hell and regroup. Literally. The prince of darkness and his demons wage a losing war against an ever-increasing number of ultra-violent, disgruntled marine forces. As the devil you literally fought God once, but this is the first time you've felt truly powerless | It had been twelve years since the last time things were normal.
Twelve years had gone by since the routine of receiving whom his father, God, called wicked to his kingdom of hell had been thrown in to disarray by group of rebels. Rebels, conspirators, saboteurs, murderers of the damned is what Satan had grown accustomed to referring to them as. All those names did little to strike fear in to the blackened hearts of his demons as the title they had referred to themselves as; Marines.
Not the he blamed his demons for their fear when their name was uttered, not anymore. There was a time their name just infuriated him as the tells of their exploits and battles won reached him. The news and scenes of his Kingdom in flame had filled him with rage. Nobody set fires in Hell if it wasn’t Satan or his minions.
At least, that had been the consecrated law.
Now where hell did not burn, it laid in quiet desolation behind the army that had grown faster than Satan could react, his demons and their weapons of Hell laying where they had fell, victims to the men and women who had risen against him over the period of the last twelve years, fighting to protect their Lord Satan from the wicked souls that they had at one time kept at heel.
Countless counter-offenses had beat against the rebel lines to no avail, the Demon hoards experience at torture and subjugation stood no match against the Marines outright expertise in conducting war. Twelve years of fighting and failed campaigns brought Satans forces to the walls of his own fortress with the burning sea at his back. They stood defending their Lord as the Marines surrounded their supposed king of Hell. All the while they chanted a song that stayed with him even as he fled across the burning sea to his last stronghold.
*From the Halls of Montezuma*
*To the shores of Tripoli;*
*We fight our country's battles*
*In the air, on land, and sea*
A year later, Satan sat in his thrown, the Marines hymn playing in his head on repeat as if to warn him of further doom. In front of him stood a Higher demon, a lesser Lord in his own right, looking more beaten and haggard then a demon would normally look. Even so the demon lord stood tall, with flames licking up from his cracked skin as he reported to his King.
“M’lord, I bring news from one of my scouts.”
“Spit it out and it better be good news for once,” Satan hissed, glaring at the thing that stood before him.
“M’lord, my scout reports that the enemy has moved, they have left the shores, leaving only a few tent cities behind,” the creature bowed in fear.
“Left the shore? They went back in land?”
“No, M’lord”
“What do you mean,” Satan raged. “They have no means to go any other direction!”
“M’lord, they---”
“Shhh,” Satan shouted. “Do you hear that?”
“What, m’lord?”
“That music!”
“Ah yes, M’lord. That is---”
“Shhh,” Satan exclaimed again, his eyes going wide as the music reached his ears.
*Stand Navy out to sea,*
*Fight our battle cry;*
*We'll never change our course,*
*So vicious foe steer shy-y-y-y.*
*Roll out the TNT,*
*Anchors Aweigh.*
*Sail on to victory*
*And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!*
The fortress that Satan sat in shook violently causing ash to cascade from the tall, vaulted ceiling. In a fit of rage, Satan leaped out of the thrown and rushed to the balcony that overlooked the sea of fire and stood dumbstruck at the sight that lay before him. Some distance from the shore that was his island fortress were hundreds warships, all of which were lobbing fiery death down on to his stronghold with dozens up battleships mixed in the lot, their giant guns pointed in his direction. When those guns fired and their shells landed into his island with earthquake inducing tremors chills began to run down the the king of Hell's spine. Underneath the arcs of death that the warships unleashed, thousands upon thousands of landing craft churned up on to Satans black beaches, belching out scores of Marines from each as the song that Satan had heard the previous year mixed with the new. That was when the helpless dread came upon the man who used to be the most dreaded in all of Hell.
“Dear God, they brought the Navy,” Satan said in fear.
The Marines landed and advanced up the beach and in to what was left of the fortress as the naval guns had walked their shells up the beach ahead of them and in to the King of Hell's demons that waited to meet the Marines. And it was there, in the thirteenth year since the uprising that Hell was liberated by the Marines. | It was as if up there things had become so rotten to the core that these guys were happy for the warmth. In all my immortal existence this had never happened before. You would get the odd nutcase who enjoyed torture a bit more than the others but it was only a matter of time before we devised a plan to put an end the derived pleausure. But this, this was something new. Based on the conversations I have heard sputtered around the dungeons it seems a war was lost in the western hemishphere not too long ago. This would explain the mass migration of one particular kind of human being, one of the lowest forms possible to attain, the marine.
Aggressive from the outset they don't understand the meaning of authority. It seems they were pushed so hard on the inside there's nothing left to be taken from them. I can only describe them as a herd of machine like men who's aim while down here is to cause as much chaos in the one place in the universe where chaos was created. A predicament to say the least, but not unsolvable.
They will split of into splinter cells sooner or later, there's way too many to handle for us and they know it. The advantage we have over them is that we know what works down here, the limitations and restrictions on a place that would seem nonsensical to new arrivals. Sure, they will trian then up as fast as they can when they come shooting down but in this situation knowledge is power. It's like what I told Sun Tzu, move swift as the wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain. I know I can rangle this in to a beneifical situation, I just don't know how yet. | |
[WP] Marines don't die; they go to hell and regroup. Literally. The prince of darkness and his demons wage a losing war against an ever-increasing number of ultra-violent, disgruntled marine forces. As the devil you literally fought God once, but this is the first time you've felt truly powerless | It had been twelve years since the last time things were normal.
Twelve years had gone by since the routine of receiving whom his father, God, called wicked to his kingdom of hell had been thrown in to disarray by group of rebels. Rebels, conspirators, saboteurs, murderers of the damned is what Satan had grown accustomed to referring to them as. All those names did little to strike fear in to the blackened hearts of his demons as the title they had referred to themselves as; Marines.
Not the he blamed his demons for their fear when their name was uttered, not anymore. There was a time their name just infuriated him as the tells of their exploits and battles won reached him. The news and scenes of his Kingdom in flame had filled him with rage. Nobody set fires in Hell if it wasn’t Satan or his minions.
At least, that had been the consecrated law.
Now where hell did not burn, it laid in quiet desolation behind the army that had grown faster than Satan could react, his demons and their weapons of Hell laying where they had fell, victims to the men and women who had risen against him over the period of the last twelve years, fighting to protect their Lord Satan from the wicked souls that they had at one time kept at heel.
Countless counter-offenses had beat against the rebel lines to no avail, the Demon hoards experience at torture and subjugation stood no match against the Marines outright expertise in conducting war. Twelve years of fighting and failed campaigns brought Satans forces to the walls of his own fortress with the burning sea at his back. They stood defending their Lord as the Marines surrounded their supposed king of Hell. All the while they chanted a song that stayed with him even as he fled across the burning sea to his last stronghold.
*From the Halls of Montezuma*
*To the shores of Tripoli;*
*We fight our country's battles*
*In the air, on land, and sea*
A year later, Satan sat in his thrown, the Marines hymn playing in his head on repeat as if to warn him of further doom. In front of him stood a Higher demon, a lesser Lord in his own right, looking more beaten and haggard then a demon would normally look. Even so the demon lord stood tall, with flames licking up from his cracked skin as he reported to his King.
“M’lord, I bring news from one of my scouts.”
“Spit it out and it better be good news for once,” Satan hissed, glaring at the thing that stood before him.
“M’lord, my scout reports that the enemy has moved, they have left the shores, leaving only a few tent cities behind,” the creature bowed in fear.
“Left the shore? They went back in land?”
“No, M’lord”
“What do you mean,” Satan raged. “They have no means to go any other direction!”
“M’lord, they---”
“Shhh,” Satan shouted. “Do you hear that?”
“What, m’lord?”
“That music!”
“Ah yes, M’lord. That is---”
“Shhh,” Satan exclaimed again, his eyes going wide as the music reached his ears.
*Stand Navy out to sea,*
*Fight our battle cry;*
*We'll never change our course,*
*So vicious foe steer shy-y-y-y.*
*Roll out the TNT,*
*Anchors Aweigh.*
*Sail on to victory*
*And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!*
The fortress that Satan sat in shook violently causing ash to cascade from the tall, vaulted ceiling. In a fit of rage, Satan leaped out of the thrown and rushed to the balcony that overlooked the sea of fire and stood dumbstruck at the sight that lay before him. Some distance from the shore that was his island fortress were hundreds warships, all of which were lobbing fiery death down on to his stronghold with dozens up battleships mixed in the lot, their giant guns pointed in his direction. When those guns fired and their shells landed into his island with earthquake inducing tremors chills began to run down the the king of Hell's spine. Underneath the arcs of death that the warships unleashed, thousands upon thousands of landing craft churned up on to Satans black beaches, belching out scores of Marines from each as the song that Satan had heard the previous year mixed with the new. That was when the helpless dread came upon the man who used to be the most dreaded in all of Hell.
“Dear God, they brought the Navy,” Satan said in fear.
The Marines landed and advanced up the beach and in to what was left of the fortress as the naval guns had walked their shells up the beach ahead of them and in to the King of Hell's demons that waited to meet the Marines. And it was there, in the thirteenth year since the uprising that Hell was liberated by the Marines. | "What in the FUCK did you do!?"
"Look, Mr. S, I'm really sorry-"
"SORRY! Sorry don't feed the bulldog! How in the everlasting fuck did you let those goddamn apes into my hell?!"
"Look, sir, I'm really sorry and it's my first week! I... I-I-I don't know! What's the problem? We needed more people down here anyway. The burn pits are empty, the furnaces full. Some extra carbon would do us good."
"You don't understand." The red evil sighed, sat back, the worms in his eyes wriggling around. His pitchfork was spewing white flames and his hands fiddled with a flaming skull on his desk of bones.
"That's just not how it works. We have an agreement with the big guy. All marines get streamlined for heaven, no excuses. Always been that way."
The intern standing before him couldn't think of what to say.
"Dammit....uhhh....."
"Saddam."
"Dammit, Sad! Do you know what these guys will do? They'll build giant dick statues out of ashes, they'll argue back with my guards and give people hope! We can't fucking have that! This is the worst thing to happen since Billy Markham showed up here. No, look, these guys go to heaven for a reason. We can't have them here. The last time we had the armed forces in here the army corps of engineers put in air conditioning and people laughed at me! Hell was pleasant! Goddammit!" The office shook with anger, flames broiled out the sides. The intern knew Hell was hot, but he had never seen the walls turn white or seen the windows melt. This was bad.
"Look, we were recruiting and I figured these guys had seen Hell and they wouldn't mind going back. They all kill babies anyway. Heck, maybe they belong here-"
"Stop. And watch your fucking language in my office. Look, This is a class A fuck up; only one being can fix this."
"What's up, snake ass."
"Hey, big beard." The huge, jacked bearded and glowing figure lounged in his throne in the middle of the room. On command he had appeared, and his presence changed the atmosphere of the room immediately. The robed man ignored the shaking intern.
"Look, Lu, I thought we had an agreement. Why are my guys in your neck of the woods?"
"This dumbass over here was just hanging around letting who the fuck ever into my hell. Most people would avoid this place like charity work, but apparently this group of guys, these marines or whatever, fucking volunteered for this shit! Why in the duckfuck would anyone want to come here? It's just sand!" He opened a window. Sand dunes appeared before him.
"Usually we don't worry about people coming here by choice. We have many guards to make sure people don't escape for a reason."
"That's funny. Where I'm from it's the opposite. People are free to go but we guard against people coming in."
"Yes, Chesty, I get that. I know how the system works-"
"I should just say that in the time we have been talking the 19 marines you accidentally allowed into Hell have already killed your entire crew of Hell-guards, impregnated most of your office staff, bent your favorite pitchfork into the shape of a dick, and destroyed everything. They have released your entire hell into the night. Except Hitler; they killed that fucker."
"Dammit, God!...Dammit!" The desk flipped over and the bones all shattered. God was on his feet, the devil crouched down to meet his height. Satan leaped, and God sidestepped and caught him, pinning him to the ground. The devil snapped his fingers, his last resort, and opened up the deepest pit of hell. God was kicked off, but he was able to grab onto the wrist of the devil who held him up before he fell to a sure death. The Devil's claws singed his hand as God held on for life.
The devil grunted. "Why can't I have marines? If we just had them in both heaven and hell it would even out right?"
"Why aren't you pulling me up? I'm hanging onto a cliff for life! Look, we had that war long ago. I won. I chose the option of the top floor and I chose to have all the marines. Being a marine is hell enough. Heaven it is for them."
"Well that's true. And I've been jealous ever since. But the reason I'm not pulling you up is that I have a bargaining chip that even you can't refuse. Not even God can survive the seventh layer of hell. And after I kill you, I can take over both heaven and hell!"
"Do you know who I am!?"
Hey watch out! You're still not up yet. And everybody knows: that when you're close to death, YOU make deals with ME!"
"Are you trying to trade my life for some of my marines?"
"Some? Oh no! I want them all."
"If you're going to hold me hostage to try to get my men to do hellish bad things to good people, you're out of luck."
And God let go. | |
[WP] Marines don't die; they go to hell and regroup. Literally. The prince of darkness and his demons wage a losing war against an ever-increasing number of ultra-violent, disgruntled marine forces. As the devil you literally fought God once, but this is the first time you've felt truly powerless | "Thank you sir! May I please have another?"
"Are you an Angel? Surely this is a test." The demon seemed frustrated.
"Lance Corporal Adam Tomlin. United States Marine Corps. I feel like my serial number might be wasted." The guy strapped to the wall was shockingly young.
"I have cut you up and sewn you together countless times. How can you still joke?"
"Come closer and I'll tell you." He grinned through red streaked teeth.
"You have nothing of interest to share with me human."
"No I just wanted to distract you for the Gunny." He barked out a mirthless laugh.
"What is a-" The demon's question was cut short by a razor blade going through its throat.
"Bout time you got here." Tomlin said sincerely. Gunnery Sergeant Rodriguez went to work cutting the younger Marine down from the wall.
"We're linking up with a bunch of guys from the Seventh." Rodriguez grunted. "They hit the armory."
"So we're on schedule?"
"Just about." Rodriguez stepped back to catch Tomlin as he collapsed. "C'mon. On your feet Marine."
"What's the armament situation look like?" Tomlin rose shakily. The two marines moved stealthily down a dimly lit stone corridor.
"Stone age as of right now. The Seventh showed up with a bunch of archery gear. This really is hell." Rodriguez laughed.
They stopped short of another guard. Rodriguez stabbed this guard through the neck again.
An arrow took a second demon that the marines hadn't spotted.
"Flash." Rodriguez called.
"Thunder." Came the response.
The Seventh MEU's response meant that the route was clear. The men from the Seventh were with a motley assortment of other damned souls. All of them Marines.
"Good to see you Gunny." A man in a blood stained lieutenants uniform greeted them.
"This is Private Mike Atkins 1943 and Private John Abrams 1874."
Abrams was twirling the dead demons cutlass experimentally.
"Pleasure." Rodriguez nodded.
"Likewise." Atkins said.
The lieutenant was backed by a dozen more marines in more modern uniforms.
"Where's your unit?"
"They were transferred to a different cell block apparently." Whispered Rodriguez
One of the LT's men passed Tomlin a short sword.
"You two take point."
"Yessir." Almost in unison.
Rodriguez signaled the others to move forward.
"Fuckers can't fight worth shit." One of the marines remarked as they advanced.
"Whole lot of teeth and nothing to back it up." Another voice agreed.
Tomlin raised a closed fist to halt the column an instant before they rounded another corner. A fireball pulverized the brick just ahead of the young soldiers face.
He peeked around it and saw a large demon readying another one.
"One shooter. No check that. Two archers just behind him."
"What's the plan sir?" A marine asked the lieutenant.
"Jenkins pass me that axe." The response came after a moments pause.
"Daniels. Keep them surprised." Rodriguez said quickly.
A marine armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows smirked and peered around the corner.
Another fireball demolished a part of the wall. Daniels fired three arrows in quick succession and took cover again.
The lieutenant was in the process of prying a door off of its hinges with the hilt of the axe.
"Let's show em why they call us Devil Dogs." The LT passed the heavy door to two massively built marines.
"Retreat."
"Hell!" A chorus. A call and response dating back to the First World War. The two Marines carrying the door ran around the corner at a full sprint, the others falling in behind them.
The door knocked the demon off of its feet and Private Abrams quickly finished it off. The other two were dispatched just as quickly with blades looted from dead comrades.
"Keep moving! We've got work to do Marines."
They sprinted into the bowels of Hell. | Satan was hiding behind a massive rock as the bullets were flying around him. Along him were several of his demoralized soldiers which were shooting back from time to time, knowing that it would have little effect.
This whole mess actually started several hundred years ago. Normally all soldiers coming down to hell would be scared shitless. But then there was one who always defied and was hardly to break. Over the time those kind of soldiers became more. They would try to break out, injure or even kill guards and sabotage the facility whenever they could. Killing them was impossible since this is already the afterlife for humans. And putting them into isloation cells also wasnt a good solution. Every cell was made for one person and now in the year 2017 there were at least 10 people in every cell. And the stream of fallen soldiers wouldnt stop.
And so the numbers of rebels kept growing. The so called marines were the worst.
Respectless, foul mouthed and now that they didnt had to fear death, completely ruthless. And they freed other prisoners and made them join them.
The head of one of the demons shooting back just blew off.
Another one tried to run but was riddled with holes before he took his second step.
Suddenly Satan and his soldiers started to hear something else than gunshots.
"Wait, whats that?"
The sound came closer together with the sound of chopper blades.
"Isnt that a synfony of Wagner?"
"Is this what I am thinking?"
"Yes sir and its even worse than in the original. This times the choppers are filled with marines......." | |
[WP]At the age of 13 everyone gets a familiar like a cat or a wolf that they are bonded too for life. You ended up getting a blue whale. | “Please state your name.”
I rose slowly from my seat and raised my head, my eyes meeting those of the Inquisitor. She was looking down at me, her stern face softened by the pity that showed in her eyes. Her Familiar, a small barn owl with dark, unblinking eyes, was perched on her forearm, its round face also turned in my direction. Most animal Familiars stayed by their human's side. I had always been odd in that way, but had grown accustomed to the questions over the years as to where my Familiar was and had a rehearsed standard response always at the ready. Having a whale as a Familiar was unique, as there weren't many blue whales left in the world and marine Familiars were rather uncommon.
“Erm...” I faltered for a split second and cleared my throat. “Justine Reynolds.”
“And the name of your Familiar?”
Before I could stop myself a smile spread across my face. I remembered it so clearly, the first time I learned his name. He and I had bonded a week prior, just one month shy of my fourteenth birthday. Up until then, my mother had been in a not-very-well-concealed panic that I had not yet found my Familiar – most people did within the first few weeks of their thirteenth birthday, but not me. While she had assured me that I must simply have been a late bloomer, I still remembered the relief on her face when I told her that we'd found each other. I remembered the feeling of our bonding as well; the sensation of another consciousness entering my mind.
Even after a week together he was still struggling to decide what he wanted to call himself. As a whale he had no need for a specific name, yet as soon as our minds became one he felt compelled to find a name for himself, a feeling which most animal Familiars shared. Sometimes the human Familiar chose the name for their animal counterpart, but he insisted that when he heard the right name he would know, so I left him to it. It wasn't until the end of our first week that he eventually found his name, when he overheard my cousin reading a story from the Bible at dinner. I wasn't particularly interested in the story – I had no interest in anything related to religion, but I felt him perk up at the mention of a sea creature, a great and fearsome monster of the deep. The warmth that I would later learn indicated his amusement washed over me, and he gave me the nudge that signaled his choice in a name.
“Leviathan.” I responded to the Inquisitor, now struggling to hide my laughter. He always did have a flair for the dramatic.
The Inquisitor raised one eyebrow at me questioningly before returning to the paper in front of her.
“And describe for me, if you would, the events of the 23rd of September last year.”
I felt a lump swell in my throat. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again and swallowed, but the words wouldn't come.
I remembered everything so clearly. I had been in a deep sleep, the gentle sound off the ocean waves crashing on the shore outside my window. Leviathan and I had always had a difficult time during my teenage years, as we rarely got the chance to see each other physically despite our constant mental connection. Although he spent time in many parts of the ocean during this time he had ultimately decided to settle himself of the coast of California, and when I was 18 I moved out there so that I could be closer to him. I had bought a small boat and paid for a spot on one of the docks almost immediately, so that I could sail out far enough to drop anchor and swim with Leviathan. I remembered the way his dark eyes twinkled as he swirled around me, massive and powerful while simultaneously being soft and graceful. I thought back on the roughness of his skin beneath my hands, with its smattering of barnacles and oh-so-light covering of soft hair. I was always jealous of those that were fortunate enough to have constant physical contact with their Familiar, but at the same time the distance had added a special element to our time spent together that served to only strengthen our bond.
I had been asleep when I felt the pain wrench through my lower back. I screamed, blinded by the pain that coursed through my body all the way to my spine. At the same time I felt Leviathan's presence in my mind intensify, flooding it with fear and agony. My roommate rushed into my room, her hare Familiar bounding behind her. She gripped my arms and shook me as I shouted, twisting among my bed sheets. Even as I searched for the source of the pain in my back I knew it was him, not me, that was injured. I stumbled out of bed and ran down the stairs and out the front door towards the water. I felt the sand between my toes and the salty air hitting my face as I ran, my wet tears turning cold as they touched my cheeks. I hit the water and dropped to my knees, feeling the waves lapping against my legs. Closing my eyes I reached out for him, feeling for his consciousness at the edges of my mind. I felt his response, one final flood of warmth that spread through every inch of my body, before it retreated into nothingness. The pain in my back faded, and I knew he was gone.
For the first time in 10 years, I was truly alone.
The Inquisitor looked at me, taking in the tears streaming down my face as I stared down at my hands, unable to speak. She returned to the papers in front of her and shuffled them slightly, breaking the silence.
“As you know, the Department of Familiar Affairs takes the death of an animal Familiar very seriously. Your case, however, is most unsual, as your Familiar was not in your presence at the time of injury. Therefore, the corporation responsible for the container ship that struck...” She glanced down that the paper in front her quickly. “...Leviathan, during his sleep, has agreed to pay reparations in the form of one hundred thousand dollars annually for the remainder of your own life. While we are all aware that this cannot compensate for your loss, it is our hope that this may help ease your suffering during this time.”
I nodded my acceptance and turned to leave. Although I had not been formally dismissed, no one stopped me. I stepped outside the courthouse and felt the fresh air hit my face. I breathed in deeply, composing myself. Suddenly I felt a tug on my sleeve, and looked down to see a small girl and her mother standing next to me, a bright yellow canary fluttering around their heads. “Excuse me”, the mother said, a kind yet slightly exasperated look on her face, “but my daughter is wondering where your Familiar is.” I looked down at the little girl and felt the answer, the words that had rolled off my tongue automatically for the past 10 years, evaporate. | We stood looking down into the tank, the bleachers empty behind us.
"It really said whale, did it?"
I looked sideways at the man in the blue jacket, who was flipping through his clipboard.
"Yeah, it says 'Blue Whale,'" he replied without looking up. He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and rotated the clipboard to me. "Now if you'll just sign on the line we can get you and Octavius out of here."
I frowned down at the piece of paper. The man hadn't been very professional; I could see the list of all the other appointments for the day. Most people would get monkeys or birds. I personally had hoped for a some sort of big cat. My name, however, was definitely accompanied by the words 'Blue Whale.'
I slowly signed my name and handed the clipboard back.
"Right," he said, "so I hope you brought something to bring your little guy home."
"I mean, I brought this," I said, feebly raising a short dog leash from my right pocket.
"Sure," my assistant replied, narrowing his eyes at the little red strip of fabric. "Give me a minute," he said, and walked away.
Alone now at the edge of tank, I looked down into the water. Way down at the bottom, one big intelligent eye peered back at me, appearing out of the blue-black depths as if disembodied. I had been vaguely aware of this eye watching me for several minutes, but I'd been trying my hardest not to look directly at it. Now, without any distraction, and also due to the fact that the eye was roughly the size of manhole cover, I had to look.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and held it close under my chin. "Siri," I whispered, "how much does a blue whale eat?"
"A blue whale eats nearly 8,000 pounds of krill per day," the sharp British voice replied.
The large eye seemed to watch the motion of my hand as I slowly lowered the phone back to my pocket. I squinted my eyes tight, and managed to hold back all but the one tear, which dripped off my chin and disappeared soundlessly into the tank. | |
I'm fond of quote prompts. | [WP] "As long as you hold it true, and as long as you don't let it die out, that light won't let you die either." | «As long as you hold it true, and don’t let it die out, that light won’t let you die out either. »
I was thirteen years old when my father entrusted my light to me. He explained that he had kept it going since my birth, and let me into the secret room to show me his light. Next to it, on a beautiful candelabra, stood the candles that had belonged to my mother and her parents before her.
My candle was a deep blue with a dancing gold pattern inlaid down the length, the wick burning slowly. A carved chest contained several more candles of the same type, and a recipe for creating more. I had everything I needed to live a long and happy life, father told me, I just needed to take care of it.
So I did.
I placed my candle in a glass house, a slim and long glass structure that protected it from gusts of winds that threatened, with openings at the very top for the hot air to escape and fresh air to enter. Every morning I carefully cleaned the glass, making sure that no amount of soot built up and polluted the air my light breathed. Every night I watched the small fire, my eyes staring into the light that contained my life.
From the first day, I went out and bought the ingredients needed to create another candle. Most were common; soy wax and bees wax combined, a little purple dye and thin golden threads. More challenging was the herb used to scent it, the ashwagandha, and the form to shape it. Father explained that as I had taken over responsibility, he could not give me what he had. I had to make it myself.
I visited green houses and alternative apothecaries until I found the herb and begged until they allowed me to work for it. For days, I dragged boxes, swept floors and did inventory. Despite the searching and the hours, getting the herb was easy compared to creating the candle shaper.
My light burned steadily through the candles my father had given me, keeping me alive as I ensured that its surroundings were perfect, that no draft bothered it and that the glass house was sturdy. As I went to school and did chores and used every spare moment to work as an apprentice for a blacksmith. Blisters rose on my fingers as I practiced the craft that allowed me to, at last, engrave the needed pattern into the metal casing.
Half a year, and most of the summer holidays, had passed before I could proudly show my father my first completed candle. He inspected it in detail, spectacles on his nose and candle held so close to his eyes that they looked in two different directions to take in all of it. Then he smiled.
“Let us try it,” he said and handed it back to me.
I whooped with joy and almost sprinted up the stairs to my room, relief and pride filling with chest and gradually giving way to joy. I had done it. All those hours, and all that work, and I had made my first candle. More work lay ahead, but now I knew I could.
Then I opened the door and my world fell apart.
The light was out.
The candle was dark.
I screamed in terror and threw myself towards it, clutching a pack of matches as if they were the only thing that could save me. I hoped they could.
“No no nonono no, it can’t be too late. Just, light it up, right? Please please please.” Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded with the candle, my hands shaking as I brought the match to the wick and tried to light it. Nothing happened. The light was out and it would not catch again.
The strength went out of my body and I sank onto the floor, sobbing, as my father entered the room. His slow, heavy steps moved towards me and he sat down next to me, cradling me in his arms.
“It’s okay, son. You are not dying,” he said, his voice deep and calming, as he pulled me into a sitting position. His big hand patted my head and brushed tears away from my eyes.
“But… but the l-light.” I couldn’t stop the sobs, the fear and sorrow making my voice high-pitched and unsteady.
“It’s fake. I lied.” He delivered the words with no remorse, only a steady confirmation. “The light is pure superstition and has nothing to do with whether you live or die.”
“I…” I manage to stifle the sobs and straighten my back a little, confusion replacing the terror that had numbed me. Perhaps my father was trying to comfort me, but I was alive even though the light was out. “…Why?”
“Because what I said is true.” He moved back a little so that he could look me into the eyes. “You have everything you need for a long life ahead of you, all you have to do is take care of it.”
“I don’t understand.” I looked towards the glass house again, at the chest with the waiting candles, at the candle shaper and the ingredient list. Fear still clutched my heart. “Is it true or isn’t it?”
“The light was an exercise.” My father stood up and moved towards it. He pointed at the herb I had worked to acquire and the candle shaper I had made by apprenticing. “Look at what you have done, because you believed your life depended on it.”
“But… if that’s not true, if it didn’t matter…” I got myself shakily to me feet and moved towards the bench the candle stood on. I recalled all the hours and the effort I had spent to collect it all.
“The truth is, most things you can do to improve your health and your life, will not be as tangible as this. The ingredients are not as easy to obtain and there will never be a finished product, but the effort needed is the same.”
I followed his words, but didn't really understand. My breath was still ragged and my head hurt after thinking I was dying and then being told my father had fooled me so completely.
He turned towards me and put a hand on my shoulder. “You are old enough now to make your own choices for what you eat and how you live, and those choices do shape your life. If you are as determined to take care of yourself as you have been to take care of this candle, you will live a long and happy life.”
| I jerk awake, my head lifting from the train's window pane. The train had stopped temporarily at a stop I wasn't privy too, and it was hard to make out the signs outside as it was dark. Evening had fallen. I groggily glance at my watch to check the time.
20:56.
Manchester was still more than a half hour away. I stretch, as a heavy yawn escapes my mouth. My eyes tear up in response. I didn't know I was this tired. I cast my mind back to the dream I was having. My Nan and I having what would be the last conversation between us before the world changed.
*"As long as you hold it true, and as long as you don't let it out, that light won't let you die either."*, She had said to me, before my dad ushered me out of her home, all smiles and laughter.
She had passed away in her sleep that night and what had followed were weeks of tears and months of depression as my favourite person in the world was now no more and the world seemed ever darker for it.
Months had gone by before we all got called into a family meeting and told that it was time to share her belongings according to her will. I was 12 then. My only knowledge of will-sharing came from the movies that Hollywood had doled out, which in my mind translated to either copius amounts of money or a land or a house. I assumed my Dad would get some mansion in the England country and we'd all move away from London.
Childish dreams and all.
It was simpler than that however. My Dad did get some money from Nan and my mum got all her jewelry. I, on the other hand, as her only pumpkin, was given a chest with sole ownership of all that was within it.
The chest held few items of interest, if I'm being honest with you. It held a bag of sweets, some biscuits, some toys I had most definitely grown out of and a little small 4x4 box, with specific instructions to not open it until I was alone.
I remember spending the rest of the afternoon eating sweets and playing with the toys absentmindedly, before chucking them into one of the drawers I use to keep old things, leaving me with nothing else but the box.
I remember closing the doors and windows of my room, before sitting with my duvet over my head. I returned my attention to the little box and proceeded to open it. I was 12 then. But even so, my Nan's words to me were as clear as if she had whispered them to me at the moment of me opening the small box.
*"As long as you hold it true, and as long as you don't let it out, that light won't let you die either."*, She had said to me.
That was years ago. 80, if my maths is right but it's been a long time, considering. My memory is not as good as it used to be, but that is one memory that returns to me each time.
Still. I guess my time is up. I have lived and enjoyed but it's been for longer than I should have. Pa and Ma have passed on. My lovely Jeanette has followed suit. It is time I did the same. I have lost enough already and with the way the cancer is spreading through Timothy's lungs, I reckon it would be devastating to see him go before me.
I feel my frail hands dip into my left jacket pocket, carressing a small mahogany box, before bringing it out to check the time again.
21:34
Almost at Manchester. Maybe I can finally tell Tim about the light. Maybe.
---
For some downright mediocrity to help you pass away time, /r/EvenAsIWrite |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | Sorry for format, I'm on mobile.
The problem with demon summoning is how random the ritual seems. Somewhere along the line, someone had the bright idea to spread a lot of misinformation about the subject. Maybe they where trying to prevent a bunch of yahoos from bugging the greater demons of the abyss, or maybe the ancients where assholes.
After slicing up a pineapple, singing Queens-Don't stop me now, and putting the finishing touches on what is appropriately referred to as the "Great Pyramid of Piña Coladas", I'm left starting rather confused at an entity of inky darkness.
"Why have you summoned me, mortal?". It's voice reverberated with air in such a way to make me kak my pants. "SPEAK!"
With all the strength I could muster, I said "I wwwas just getting ready for a tropic themed party, I wasn't trying to summon a demon." And it was true, of all the things I could have thought I was doing, summoning a demon was never on the list.
"Is that not the sacrificial pineapple? Or the sacramental liqueur arranged in the most unholy of shapes? Or perhaps you just accidentally sang the abyssal passages perfectly."
At the time, I thought my singing was kinda shit actually. "Listen, I never intended to summon you. Is there a way I can send you back?"
"I don't know the methods. Only when the ritual calls, do I answer. It is the responsibility of the summoner to banish me back to whence I came." The demons form coalesced into a more sane form as it plucked a drink from the load the corner of the pyramid. The pyramid didn't even shake.
In that moment, my pal Randal just put on a scary mask and lept out yelling, "ABLOOGY WOOGY WOO" while toppling every drink in the pyramid.
And like that, the demon was gone, but my carpet was ruined... | I was drunk a bit past midnight. After a whole week of work I had a day of, time to party. But nah,I was feeling too sleepy,too dizzy...I blacked out.
I woke up with my head hurting,was that screaming just a dream? The fire, the ash. But no, it was not. In front of me was the most terrifying creature I had ever seen, his horns were jagged and sharp,claws which could tear iron,skin a ghoulish shade of red. Slowly it opened its eyes and in a deep gravel tone it said,"Oh no,a human! Don't hurt me please" | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | "FOOLISH MORTAL! YOUR INNOCENCE WILL BE YOUR DAMNATION! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?
The behemoth towered over me, an infinite black cloud swirling with dread and the eternal haunt. Screams of woes and the sacrificed danced in its million eyes that glowed a sickly shifting hue of yellow and blue. It's black wretched skin rippled with absolute anger, pulsing in places that were unnatural. It's mass supported by equally Colossus legs that trailed to spindly points like a spiders. I could smell it, fire and death, a decaying mass of death and fear. Yet despite that, I wasn't afraid, I felt calm, protected even.
"Nope", the casualties of my statement certainly stirred it's ire. He took a step back and reshuffled his steps, as if my words were to be so powerful that they struck him a blow.
His mouth gapped open, black saliva dripping from a million finely pointed needle like teeth, the bile dripped to his chin and gave a sense of it being horribly toxic.
"I AM BA'MI'JAR. CHAMPION OF THE SEVEN HELLS, SLAYER OF ANGELS, DEVOURER OF THE UNBAPTISED. LORD OF CORRUPTION, MASTER OF ILLUSION. DESTROYER OF WAYS AND BREAKER OF SOULS. I HAVE TEMPTED A MILLION TO THEIR DAMNATION. MY NAME SHAKES THE GATES OF HEAVEN AND SHATTERS THR HOPE OF ANGELS. I RULE THE CHAMBER OF NIGHTMARES. NONE MAY SUMMON ME, NONE MAY CHALLENGE MY WILL!"
That's a lot of fancy titles I thought, but not aloud. I figured it'd be best not to try and insult him. Best I could tell the only reason he hadn't set me on fire yet or ate me was out of curiosity.
"Well, like, I didn't summon you man. So maybe you got los-" before I could finish I was abruptly cut off. A voice filled the room, one eerily familiar and yet I don't believe I had ever consciously heard it before.
"NO! It was me Ba'Mi'Jar! I have summoned you! You are now chained to my will!"
I turned to see where the voice came from, but all I saw was my cat, Sir Meowzer, staring intently at both of us. | I was drunk a bit past midnight. After a whole week of work I had a day of, time to party. But nah,I was feeling too sleepy,too dizzy...I blacked out.
I woke up with my head hurting,was that screaming just a dream? The fire, the ash. But no, it was not. In front of me was the most terrifying creature I had ever seen, his horns were jagged and sharp,claws which could tear iron,skin a ghoulish shade of red. Slowly it opened its eyes and in a deep gravel tone it said,"Oh no,a human! Don't hurt me please" | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | “So”
I mindlessly stir my lukewarm tea. The ringing of my spoon against the white porcelain cuts through the awkward silence in the room.
“So” The man standing opposite me replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. After another moments pause I clear my throat to break the silence.
“You look a lot different to how I had imagined”
“Really?” The man replies, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I dunno, I always imagined, you know, wings, chains, horns, that sort of thing.” The stranger in my kitchen ponders on this for a moment, taking a sip of his tea.
“Why would you think that?”
“Comics, I guess? TV, movies, pop-culture. That sort of thing.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about” says the stranger. “I exist as you wanted me to. I am a manifestation of your will”
This part wasn't entirely true. I knew that to remove a demon from the world I would have to discover and say it's name (This I learned from Hollywood) How I summoned him on the other hand was a complete mystery. This Being claimed to me that I had completed some great and complex ritual when all I had done was feed the cat and made a cup of tea for myself. He had appeared right in front of me without warning in a puff of red smoke.
“So you came from Hell?” I ask not wanting to know the answer.
“I don't think you understand. Before now, in the time before you summoned me I didn't exist. I was essence without form. I was potential without any consciousness. I know nothing of life other than the reality you have given unto me”
I ponder this for a moment. This entity stood before me does not at all resemble how I would imagine a demonic presence to have manifested. He resembles a man like any other. Standing at roughly five and a half feet tall, olive skin, square jawed, short thick black hair and a prominent brow. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a black Ramones t-shirt adorned his barreled chest and he was wearing a pair of black converse shoes. He could have been anybody.
“So... do you want to go home?” I ask pensively.
“I have no home” He replied, not conveying any hint of sadness. “This is the life you have given me and I am here until the end of days.”
“Fuck” I mutter. “I guess that means the end of days will actually come then. That's not good is it?”
“You accept this truth with a great deal of calm, human”
“Yeah I suppose so. I dunno, I've been pretty down lately so this is just about my luck. Plus I'm really tired at the moment so maybe I will have a little freak out later on or something.”
“Maybe” The demon replies, finishing his tea and setting down his mug. I take it and rinse it in the sink, desperately searching for something to do with my hands.
“If you tell me your name I can send you away, right?”
“That is correct” He replies, his face a tombstone.
“So will you tell me your name? Write it down or something so I can say it out loud and send you away?”
“But I have only just gotten here” The demon replied with a smile “And there is much work to be done. Great deeds will be done by your hands. Great, terrible, amazing things. And we haven't much time at all”
| I was drunk a bit past midnight. After a whole week of work I had a day of, time to party. But nah,I was feeling too sleepy,too dizzy...I blacked out.
I woke up with my head hurting,was that screaming just a dream? The fire, the ash. But no, it was not. In front of me was the most terrifying creature I had ever seen, his horns were jagged and sharp,claws which could tear iron,skin a ghoulish shade of red. Slowly it opened its eyes and in a deep gravel tone it said,"Oh no,a human! Don't hurt me please" | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | "FOOLISH MORTAL! YOUR INNOCENCE WILL BE YOUR DAMNATION! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?
The behemoth towered over me, an infinite black cloud swirling with dread and the eternal haunt. Screams of woes and the sacrificed danced in its million eyes that glowed a sickly shifting hue of yellow and blue. It's black wretched skin rippled with absolute anger, pulsing in places that were unnatural. It's mass supported by equally Colossus legs that trailed to spindly points like a spiders. I could smell it, fire and death, a decaying mass of death and fear. Yet despite that, I wasn't afraid, I felt calm, protected even.
"Nope", the casualties of my statement certainly stirred it's ire. He took a step back and reshuffled his steps, as if my words were to be so powerful that they struck him a blow.
His mouth gapped open, black saliva dripping from a million finely pointed needle like teeth, the bile dripped to his chin and gave a sense of it being horribly toxic.
"I AM BA'MI'JAR. CHAMPION OF THE SEVEN HELLS, SLAYER OF ANGELS, DEVOURER OF THE UNBAPTISED. LORD OF CORRUPTION, MASTER OF ILLUSION. DESTROYER OF WAYS AND BREAKER OF SOULS. I HAVE TEMPTED A MILLION TO THEIR DAMNATION. MY NAME SHAKES THE GATES OF HEAVEN AND SHATTERS THR HOPE OF ANGELS. I RULE THE CHAMBER OF NIGHTMARES. NONE MAY SUMMON ME, NONE MAY CHALLENGE MY WILL!"
That's a lot of fancy titles I thought, but not aloud. I figured it'd be best not to try and insult him. Best I could tell the only reason he hadn't set me on fire yet or ate me was out of curiosity.
"Well, like, I didn't summon you man. So maybe you got los-" before I could finish I was abruptly cut off. A voice filled the room, one eerily familiar and yet I don't believe I had ever consciously heard it before.
"NO! It was me Ba'Mi'Jar! I have summoned you! You are now chained to my will!"
I turned to see where the voice came from, but all I saw was my cat, Sir Meowzer, staring intently at both of us. | I wake up in a strange room. What am I doing here? How did I get here? I don't seem to remember any of that. All I remember is that one moment, I was at home with my wife and two kids... and now I'm here.
I had heard about this, back at home. My co-worker swore it was true, it had happened to his cousin's wife's best friend. My mother had told me stories about them when I was a kid. But I'd never believed it. Conspiracy theories, I thought. Religious dogma. Medieval beliefs. After all, humans don't exist. They are just a figment of our imagination. A result of our need to divide everything into black and white, into wrong and right, into good and evil.
Guess I was wrong.
And I might just have to pay for it. | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | “So”
I mindlessly stir my lukewarm tea. The ringing of my spoon against the white porcelain cuts through the awkward silence in the room.
“So” The man standing opposite me replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. After another moments pause I clear my throat to break the silence.
“You look a lot different to how I had imagined”
“Really?” The man replies, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I dunno, I always imagined, you know, wings, chains, horns, that sort of thing.” The stranger in my kitchen ponders on this for a moment, taking a sip of his tea.
“Why would you think that?”
“Comics, I guess? TV, movies, pop-culture. That sort of thing.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about” says the stranger. “I exist as you wanted me to. I am a manifestation of your will”
This part wasn't entirely true. I knew that to remove a demon from the world I would have to discover and say it's name (This I learned from Hollywood) How I summoned him on the other hand was a complete mystery. This Being claimed to me that I had completed some great and complex ritual when all I had done was feed the cat and made a cup of tea for myself. He had appeared right in front of me without warning in a puff of red smoke.
“So you came from Hell?” I ask not wanting to know the answer.
“I don't think you understand. Before now, in the time before you summoned me I didn't exist. I was essence without form. I was potential without any consciousness. I know nothing of life other than the reality you have given unto me”
I ponder this for a moment. This entity stood before me does not at all resemble how I would imagine a demonic presence to have manifested. He resembles a man like any other. Standing at roughly five and a half feet tall, olive skin, square jawed, short thick black hair and a prominent brow. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a black Ramones t-shirt adorned his barreled chest and he was wearing a pair of black converse shoes. He could have been anybody.
“So... do you want to go home?” I ask pensively.
“I have no home” He replied, not conveying any hint of sadness. “This is the life you have given me and I am here until the end of days.”
“Fuck” I mutter. “I guess that means the end of days will actually come then. That's not good is it?”
“You accept this truth with a great deal of calm, human”
“Yeah I suppose so. I dunno, I've been pretty down lately so this is just about my luck. Plus I'm really tired at the moment so maybe I will have a little freak out later on or something.”
“Maybe” The demon replies, finishing his tea and setting down his mug. I take it and rinse it in the sink, desperately searching for something to do with my hands.
“If you tell me your name I can send you away, right?”
“That is correct” He replies, his face a tombstone.
“So will you tell me your name? Write it down or something so I can say it out loud and send you away?”
“But I have only just gotten here” The demon replied with a smile “And there is much work to be done. Great deeds will be done by your hands. Great, terrible, amazing things. And we haven't much time at all”
| I wake up in a strange room. What am I doing here? How did I get here? I don't seem to remember any of that. All I remember is that one moment, I was at home with my wife and two kids... and now I'm here.
I had heard about this, back at home. My co-worker swore it was true, it had happened to his cousin's wife's best friend. My mother had told me stories about them when I was a kid. But I'd never believed it. Conspiracy theories, I thought. Religious dogma. Medieval beliefs. After all, humans don't exist. They are just a figment of our imagination. A result of our need to divide everything into black and white, into wrong and right, into good and evil.
Guess I was wrong.
And I might just have to pay for it. | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | "FOOLISH MORTAL! YOUR INNOCENCE WILL BE YOUR DAMNATION! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?
The behemoth towered over me, an infinite black cloud swirling with dread and the eternal haunt. Screams of woes and the sacrificed danced in its million eyes that glowed a sickly shifting hue of yellow and blue. It's black wretched skin rippled with absolute anger, pulsing in places that were unnatural. It's mass supported by equally Colossus legs that trailed to spindly points like a spiders. I could smell it, fire and death, a decaying mass of death and fear. Yet despite that, I wasn't afraid, I felt calm, protected even.
"Nope", the casualties of my statement certainly stirred it's ire. He took a step back and reshuffled his steps, as if my words were to be so powerful that they struck him a blow.
His mouth gapped open, black saliva dripping from a million finely pointed needle like teeth, the bile dripped to his chin and gave a sense of it being horribly toxic.
"I AM BA'MI'JAR. CHAMPION OF THE SEVEN HELLS, SLAYER OF ANGELS, DEVOURER OF THE UNBAPTISED. LORD OF CORRUPTION, MASTER OF ILLUSION. DESTROYER OF WAYS AND BREAKER OF SOULS. I HAVE TEMPTED A MILLION TO THEIR DAMNATION. MY NAME SHAKES THE GATES OF HEAVEN AND SHATTERS THR HOPE OF ANGELS. I RULE THE CHAMBER OF NIGHTMARES. NONE MAY SUMMON ME, NONE MAY CHALLENGE MY WILL!"
That's a lot of fancy titles I thought, but not aloud. I figured it'd be best not to try and insult him. Best I could tell the only reason he hadn't set me on fire yet or ate me was out of curiosity.
"Well, like, I didn't summon you man. So maybe you got los-" before I could finish I was abruptly cut off. A voice filled the room, one eerily familiar and yet I don't believe I had ever consciously heard it before.
"NO! It was me Ba'Mi'Jar! I have summoned you! You are now chained to my will!"
I turned to see where the voice came from, but all I saw was my cat, Sir Meowzer, staring intently at both of us. | The bathroom swirled with rumbling clouds of smoke streaked by lightening and the stench of sulfur flooded the efficiency apartment. The silhouette of a great, cow headed figure rose through the roiling smoke with a booming laugh. Moloch rose to his full nine feet of height and proudly stepped forward, directly into the frame of the bathroom door.
The blow got his attention and he glanced around the tiny, one room apartment in confusion as the smoke cleared. Roger, the inhabitant of the apartment, stood in the three square feet of tile that constituted the kitchen, frozen in a mixture of confusion and horror. Moloch stared back in embarrassment. It was not often in his eons of existence that he had shown up somewhere by accident, and not often that a mortal witnessed him make a fool of himself.
Regaining his composure, he rose back up in height and spoke in a grand, deep base which caused Rogers rib cage to vibrate. "Are you the one who summoned me?"
Roger, still slack jawed and vacant eyed, shook his head no.
Moloch glanced around the room. No black candles had been lit. There were not symbols drawn in blood. Instead of ritual robes, the man in front of him was wearing pajama pants and a stained college tee shirt. "Have you been reading any strange books recently? Maybe something in a language you don't recognize, perhaps bound in human skin?"
The man shook his head again.
The great cow headed demon put his hand over his face in frustration. "Have you bought any items from a mysterious store lately which later disappeared? Said any weird things into a mirror with the lights turned off while spinning in circles? Pulled a weird item out of an archeological dig site?"
All negative.
Moloch threw his head back, searching the back of his mind for any possible cause to his arrival. "Did you... did you recently slight a gypsy or something?"
Roger shook his head yet again.
Moloch the heavy judger of men, cow headed god of the Canaanites, Moloch of Ginsberg's Howl shifted awkwardly in the doorway. It had been quite a while since he had been cornered into small talk and he was quite rusty. "What are you eating?" he uttered in a voice that rattled the panes in the windows and sent rats fleeing from the decrepit apartment building.
Roger, broken from his trance by the oddity of the question, looked down at his frozen pizza. "Big meat." he croaked through a dry mouth. "Want a slice?"
The demon shrugged and collected his meager offering, but he recoiled in horror at the first bite. "Jesus," it bellowed. "What have you done to this?"
The pajama clad man glanced back at the warmed up pizza sitting on his oven. "I doctored it a little. You get a little bored of the normal flavors if you eat this stuff too much."
Moloch spit a mouthful of cheese and sauce and meat onto the cheap carpet. "How many animals are on this?"
Roger shrugged and took a bit of his own slice. He ran the numbers in his head. "Well, probably five different kinds, but all of it is processed meat. So it could be hundreds. Who knows."
Moloch, the demander of great sacrifice, stared down into the puddle of pizza he had spit into the carpet and from there noticed the trail of blood in the bathroom. The drops trailed out in odd circles and archaic symbols, so complex and ancient that they looked almost accidental. "Well there's your problem." he belched in a puff of sulfurous smoke. "You consumed abdominal flesh and completed the blood rituals." He glanced back at the bandage around the mans hand.
"Oh, that? I cut myself when I was messing with the pizza. Is that really a blood ritual?" He ended the sentence by consuming even more of the monstrous amalgamation of flesh, that legion of mingled carcasses, that big meat pizza.
The Canaanite god shrugged. "It technically is." His voice was strained with bitterness. "You ate the flesh and spilled the blood, so under the Demonic Dealings Accord, you are entitled to one unreasonable demand. I should warn you that I am allowed to misinterpret your demand in monstrous ways under the accord, but it's your choice."
Terrible thoughts and endless possibilities from straight to DVD movies rushed through Rogers mind. "No, I think I'm good."
The god shrugged. "Suit yourself, and stop eating that pizza. It's just disgusting."
And with a clap of thunder and slightly forced melodramatic laughter, the demon sunk into the stained linoleum of the bathroom. Roger retrieved his cellphone from the top of the refrigerator and took a picture of the blood pattern on the floor. He knew this would eventually be an amazing party trick. | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | “So”
I mindlessly stir my lukewarm tea. The ringing of my spoon against the white porcelain cuts through the awkward silence in the room.
“So” The man standing opposite me replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. After another moments pause I clear my throat to break the silence.
“You look a lot different to how I had imagined”
“Really?” The man replies, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I dunno, I always imagined, you know, wings, chains, horns, that sort of thing.” The stranger in my kitchen ponders on this for a moment, taking a sip of his tea.
“Why would you think that?”
“Comics, I guess? TV, movies, pop-culture. That sort of thing.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about” says the stranger. “I exist as you wanted me to. I am a manifestation of your will”
This part wasn't entirely true. I knew that to remove a demon from the world I would have to discover and say it's name (This I learned from Hollywood) How I summoned him on the other hand was a complete mystery. This Being claimed to me that I had completed some great and complex ritual when all I had done was feed the cat and made a cup of tea for myself. He had appeared right in front of me without warning in a puff of red smoke.
“So you came from Hell?” I ask not wanting to know the answer.
“I don't think you understand. Before now, in the time before you summoned me I didn't exist. I was essence without form. I was potential without any consciousness. I know nothing of life other than the reality you have given unto me”
I ponder this for a moment. This entity stood before me does not at all resemble how I would imagine a demonic presence to have manifested. He resembles a man like any other. Standing at roughly five and a half feet tall, olive skin, square jawed, short thick black hair and a prominent brow. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a black Ramones t-shirt adorned his barreled chest and he was wearing a pair of black converse shoes. He could have been anybody.
“So... do you want to go home?” I ask pensively.
“I have no home” He replied, not conveying any hint of sadness. “This is the life you have given me and I am here until the end of days.”
“Fuck” I mutter. “I guess that means the end of days will actually come then. That's not good is it?”
“You accept this truth with a great deal of calm, human”
“Yeah I suppose so. I dunno, I've been pretty down lately so this is just about my luck. Plus I'm really tired at the moment so maybe I will have a little freak out later on or something.”
“Maybe” The demon replies, finishing his tea and setting down his mug. I take it and rinse it in the sink, desperately searching for something to do with my hands.
“If you tell me your name I can send you away, right?”
“That is correct” He replies, his face a tombstone.
“So will you tell me your name? Write it down or something so I can say it out loud and send you away?”
“But I have only just gotten here” The demon replied with a smile “And there is much work to be done. Great deeds will be done by your hands. Great, terrible, amazing things. And we haven't much time at all”
| Sorry for format, I'm on mobile.
The problem with demon summoning is how random the ritual seems. Somewhere along the line, someone had the bright idea to spread a lot of misinformation about the subject. Maybe they where trying to prevent a bunch of yahoos from bugging the greater demons of the abyss, or maybe the ancients where assholes.
After slicing up a pineapple, singing Queens-Don't stop me now, and putting the finishing touches on what is appropriately referred to as the "Great Pyramid of Piña Coladas", I'm left starting rather confused at an entity of inky darkness.
"Why have you summoned me, mortal?". It's voice reverberated with air in such a way to make me kak my pants. "SPEAK!"
With all the strength I could muster, I said "I wwwas just getting ready for a tropic themed party, I wasn't trying to summon a demon." And it was true, of all the things I could have thought I was doing, summoning a demon was never on the list.
"Is that not the sacrificial pineapple? Or the sacramental liqueur arranged in the most unholy of shapes? Or perhaps you just accidentally sang the abyssal passages perfectly."
At the time, I thought my singing was kinda shit actually. "Listen, I never intended to summon you. Is there a way I can send you back?"
"I don't know the methods. Only when the ritual calls, do I answer. It is the responsibility of the summoner to banish me back to whence I came." The demons form coalesced into a more sane form as it plucked a drink from the load the corner of the pyramid. The pyramid didn't even shake.
In that moment, my pal Randal just put on a scary mask and lept out yelling, "ABLOOGY WOOGY WOO" while toppling every drink in the pyramid.
And like that, the demon was gone, but my carpet was ruined... | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | “So”
I mindlessly stir my lukewarm tea. The ringing of my spoon against the white porcelain cuts through the awkward silence in the room.
“So” The man standing opposite me replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. After another moments pause I clear my throat to break the silence.
“You look a lot different to how I had imagined”
“Really?” The man replies, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I dunno, I always imagined, you know, wings, chains, horns, that sort of thing.” The stranger in my kitchen ponders on this for a moment, taking a sip of his tea.
“Why would you think that?”
“Comics, I guess? TV, movies, pop-culture. That sort of thing.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about” says the stranger. “I exist as you wanted me to. I am a manifestation of your will”
This part wasn't entirely true. I knew that to remove a demon from the world I would have to discover and say it's name (This I learned from Hollywood) How I summoned him on the other hand was a complete mystery. This Being claimed to me that I had completed some great and complex ritual when all I had done was feed the cat and made a cup of tea for myself. He had appeared right in front of me without warning in a puff of red smoke.
“So you came from Hell?” I ask not wanting to know the answer.
“I don't think you understand. Before now, in the time before you summoned me I didn't exist. I was essence without form. I was potential without any consciousness. I know nothing of life other than the reality you have given unto me”
I ponder this for a moment. This entity stood before me does not at all resemble how I would imagine a demonic presence to have manifested. He resembles a man like any other. Standing at roughly five and a half feet tall, olive skin, square jawed, short thick black hair and a prominent brow. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, a black Ramones t-shirt adorned his barreled chest and he was wearing a pair of black converse shoes. He could have been anybody.
“So... do you want to go home?” I ask pensively.
“I have no home” He replied, not conveying any hint of sadness. “This is the life you have given me and I am here until the end of days.”
“Fuck” I mutter. “I guess that means the end of days will actually come then. That's not good is it?”
“You accept this truth with a great deal of calm, human”
“Yeah I suppose so. I dunno, I've been pretty down lately so this is just about my luck. Plus I'm really tired at the moment so maybe I will have a little freak out later on or something.”
“Maybe” The demon replies, finishing his tea and setting down his mug. I take it and rinse it in the sink, desperately searching for something to do with my hands.
“If you tell me your name I can send you away, right?”
“That is correct” He replies, his face a tombstone.
“So will you tell me your name? Write it down or something so I can say it out loud and send you away?”
“But I have only just gotten here” The demon replied with a smile “And there is much work to be done. Great deeds will be done by your hands. Great, terrible, amazing things. And we haven't much time at all”
| I groaned as I slumped into the sheets on my bed, stretching my legs out. Normally I'd be out at the gym at this point, but work had absolutely kicked my butt today, and I felt a little entitled to a cheat day. Maybe a nap before my husband got home, that would be just the thing. But there was an odd scent in the air, making me sneeze- acrid and almost hot, tinged with sweat or something else.
"Stupid cat." I muttered as I sat up, assuming that Fleabag had piddled in the bedroom. Again. I was pushing myself up to my feet when I realized I wasn't alone in the room anymore. A figure was leaning on the doorframe, smirking at me.
It was unmistakably female, with the sort of curves you only see thanks to photoshop. She had pinkish-red skin, exposed for the vast part with only scraps of black leather to offer the vaguest nod towards decency as clothing. A face that even I had to call a heartstopper, with high cheekbones and full lips, framed by silky black hair cut in a bob. Even the hooves, the spade-tipped tail, and the small horns jutting from her forehead seemed to enhance the air of lusty sexuality that poured off her.
"Not a cat..." She purred, taking a step forward and swaying her hips. It was smooth and natural, predatory almost. I threw my hands up defensively, and yelled "What the hell?! Get out of here, lady!"
That brought her up short, her perfectly manicured eyebrows knitting together. She stopped her advance, and then blurted out "You called me here, why would I be leaving? If you want me to leave, just do the banishment already."
My heart was pounding in my chest as I took a closer look at the oddities- the horns were perfect, there was no pink or brown or black flesh hidden under the reddish skin tone, and the tail was moving way too smoothly to be a prosthetic. I gulped, and then looked up at her puzzled expression. "I didn't call anyone here- get, get on out already!"
She stomped one hoof on the soft carpet, her voice rising "Obviously you did, otherwise I wouldn't be here, mortal! So just say the banishment or whatever, so I can get back to my own entertainment." She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, lips curling in an annoyed pout.
I shook my head. "No, do you see black candles or satanic stuff in here?" I gestured around my cluttered bedroom. There were pictures on the wall from my honeymoon in the Alps, and a painting of one of the mountain lakes. Clothes were scattered on the floor, and my stack of library books were on my nightstand. The demon slowly looked around, and scowled.
"You had to have done it, or I wouldn't be here tied to you- where's the pentacle, and there's no blood sacrifice- what the hell did you do?" She cried out, looking suddenly panicked. "Send me back, I don't want to be trapped up here!"
"Uh... go! Go back! You're banished. Leave! ... Fuck, just go!" I cried out, starting to shake. Every word was louder than the last, and I knew my neighbors would gossip if they had heard. But the demon just stood there, looking at her hands and then giving a frustrated sound.
"Aaargh! You have got to be kidding me!" She took a step forward and then with unnatural grace fell face forward into the bed next to me. From this angle I could see a pair of long, faintly discernible lumps on her back, and absently I judged them to be where wings would be. She laid there for a moment, and then raised her head. "So you can't send me back- what the fuck. I can't go back without you releasing me."
"Wait, wait, wait." I blurted out. "I release you, you can go- Jesus, my husband won't believe this. " I waved my hands, shooing her away. But the demon just eyed me speculatively, making me suddenly feel like I was being sized up at the club by a pervert.
"Doesn't work like that. You have to use the right phrases and magic and all. If you did it by accident, I'm stuck here. With you." She pouted, and damn if it wasn't painfully adorable. I wish I had a pout like that, I'd win every argument with my husband forever.
"Oh no no no." I breathed. "Not only no but hell no. You're outta here- scram! Door's that way!" My finger pointed towards the apartment door, but the demon just rolled over onto her back, stretching out and sighing disconsolately.
"Can't. Part of the rules- have to be within a certain distance. And I am going to bet you don't know the words to command if you don't know how to banish. Well, I might be stuck here, but at least you don't know how to bully me." She wrinkled her nose, and then sighed. "It could be worse."
I stood up, throwing my arms up. "No fucking way! Are you kidding me, my husband is going to freak out!" I paced the room, shaking my head furiously. I spun towards her, pointing my finger at her. "Can't you turn invisible or disappear to Hell or whatever?"
She gave me an amused look. "Honey, look at me. I'm a succubus, not an ifrit or wraith. I don't turn invisible- I need to be very visible to do my thing. And frankly, your husband will probably like having me around until you figure out what magic you used."
It doesn't bear repeating what I called her, but she took it all in stride, giving me the time to vent at her. I trailed off, slumping against the closet door, covering my face with my hands. "Oh, this cannot be happening. This is a disaster."
She giggled at me, and then shifted into a provocative pose on the bed. "It's not so bad. Why don't you let me take your mind off things for a while, and you'll agree..." she said with the most absolute wicked tone I've ever heard. Not even the most shameless girl at a club has had a tone that could match this demon's.
I slowly lowered my hands and stared daggers at her. "I'm married, and I'm straight." My growling response didn't seem to phase her in the slightest.
"What does that have to do with anything?" She said with a slight smirk, her eyebrow arching with all kinds of implications. And I'm stuck with this? I stared at her for a long minute before digging for my phone.
Maybe Amazon has "The Dummy's Guide to Banishing Demons". | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | "- So... You didn't sacrificed anyone ?"
"- No... I told you three time already...."
" -And... You didn't drew your blood on a parchment while signing a pact of some sort ?"
"- I would remember it, last thing I signed was my credit card receipt."
"- No virgin blood on it ?"
"- Not that I can remember. We don't usually use that as ink anymore, you know ?"
"- Maybe you did sacrificed a virgin and didn't realized it... Did you attempted suicide recently ?"
"- Fuck you."
"- You're welcome."
What started as a normal day took a turn for the unexpected quite recently. I was at home, minding my own business playing video games when suddenly all lights started flickering and went out. This marked then end of my last ranked game for my promotion to silver but my teammates were bad anyway.
Then, while I was cursing my luck, I heard a loud bang behind me and a massive form started to form close to my bed.
Before I understood what was happening, a 5 meters, red skinned, big-horned tall monstrosity was kneeling before me. Am I wrong to think that Diablo's developers miiiight have found inspiration from him ?
But then, like in every social meeting I have, an awkward talk happened.
According to him, he wasn't summoned by mistake.
According to me, I never summoned him.
The demon code forbid to refuse a rock-off challenge, but apparently there's nothing in their FAQ for "wrong invoker summoned me".
But beside the mentioned awkward talk, I don't really care. and to be honest, he doesn't seems to care either.
"- So... How long are you going to crash my couch ?"
"- Dunno. We demons are usually bound for the duration of a contract. It's just a job you know ? So, in normal circumstances you say '*aaaawww big demon from the outher hell pleaaaaase help me to kill whatshissame or make whatshername fall in love with me I'll do aaaanythiiiing*' AND that's the part were they sell their soul to me, you know ? And after that I usually get back home for some fun time. Sometime the invoker is smart and realize he's getting screwed and refuse the deal, so I can be trapped here for some time, like 6 years, 6 month and 6 days, usually. Not really a big deal for me. Speaking of which, you won't happen to be in the mood for a small soul contract ? For a friend in need ?"
"- Fuck off. You can crash my couch anytime you like if I keep my soul, thank you very much."
"- Shit. We'll it was worth a try, right ?"
" - Right."
Deciding that this was leading nowhere and the demon could do anything to me if I didn't screw up, I began another game of League of Legends.
"- Hey ! What's that thing ? It says *Welcome summoner*, can I have been summoned by this ?"
"- Not a chance, it's video game's lingo, there's no blood involved."
"- Hey ! It says FIRST BLOOD ! There ! In capital letters !"
"- Stop using my chair as an arm's pillow, you're heavy you know ?"
"- Sorry..."
The game continued for some time, but weirdly the demon seemed to... starts enjoying the game. Looking more and more interested.
"- You don't have that at home, do you ?"
"- Well, we play with living souls usually. They are funny squishy things but it gets boring after a millennia, you know ?"
"- Guess I would be bored either after a while..."
"- Hey ! Don't get here, that weird-looking axe-throwing viking is just in that bush, waiting for you, do you want to die ? Not that I mind tho... But he's damaged and you could kill him with one shot."
What ?
I stopped my character and blindly launched a spell in the direction the demon showed me with his... Claw ? Finger ?
"YOU HAVE SLAIN AN ENEMY"
I stop in my track, reading the insults of the enemy player flooding my screen, calling me a cheater.
"- You... Knew he was here ?"
"- Well... Yeah ? We demon know what is going on around our invoker, it's kinda useful in our work, you know ?"
"- Okay, first I am NOT your invoker.... And secondly you know where are the rest of my opponent ?"
"- Well, yeah ? Look here, there's one running away." The demon showed me a place in my screen covered by the fog of war. "You can easily shoot him with that spells that launch a huuuuge missile, you know ? You used it earlier without success but now... If you use it... THERE !"
"DOUBLE KILL !"
"- Hahah ! See ? Told you he was here ! Ahahah ! You BLEW HIM UP !"
The demon was heartily laughing, finding the sight of human's avatars killing each other extremely funny. I guess computer games are not extremely frequent in hell. One more reason to NOT sell my soul to this guy. But then an idea appeared in my head.
"- You like seeing me kill things, right ?"
"- Well... Yeah ? It's a demon thing, you know ? You don't seem phased a lot either to be honest. I kinda like that."
" - What if I told you I can make a living out of that and, since you are trapped here with me, why not do something that amuses both of us ?"
- I get your drift, human, that looks like a fun way of killing time before I can meet my favorite succubus again. Don't worry about other humans, they can't see me if I don't want to be seen"
I quit my main account and launch the creation of a new one.
With him with me, I'll be unstoppable, the best there ever was.
This will not be correct, this will be cheating, but I don't care.
This won't be my strength, this will be fake.
A demon god, walking among men.
"WELCOME, SUMMONER, CHOOSE YOUR SUMMONER NAME"
I can't resist a smile as I type my new name.
Faker.
| I groaned as I slumped into the sheets on my bed, stretching my legs out. Normally I'd be out at the gym at this point, but work had absolutely kicked my butt today, and I felt a little entitled to a cheat day. Maybe a nap before my husband got home, that would be just the thing. But there was an odd scent in the air, making me sneeze- acrid and almost hot, tinged with sweat or something else.
"Stupid cat." I muttered as I sat up, assuming that Fleabag had piddled in the bedroom. Again. I was pushing myself up to my feet when I realized I wasn't alone in the room anymore. A figure was leaning on the doorframe, smirking at me.
It was unmistakably female, with the sort of curves you only see thanks to photoshop. She had pinkish-red skin, exposed for the vast part with only scraps of black leather to offer the vaguest nod towards decency as clothing. A face that even I had to call a heartstopper, with high cheekbones and full lips, framed by silky black hair cut in a bob. Even the hooves, the spade-tipped tail, and the small horns jutting from her forehead seemed to enhance the air of lusty sexuality that poured off her.
"Not a cat..." She purred, taking a step forward and swaying her hips. It was smooth and natural, predatory almost. I threw my hands up defensively, and yelled "What the hell?! Get out of here, lady!"
That brought her up short, her perfectly manicured eyebrows knitting together. She stopped her advance, and then blurted out "You called me here, why would I be leaving? If you want me to leave, just do the banishment already."
My heart was pounding in my chest as I took a closer look at the oddities- the horns were perfect, there was no pink or brown or black flesh hidden under the reddish skin tone, and the tail was moving way too smoothly to be a prosthetic. I gulped, and then looked up at her puzzled expression. "I didn't call anyone here- get, get on out already!"
She stomped one hoof on the soft carpet, her voice rising "Obviously you did, otherwise I wouldn't be here, mortal! So just say the banishment or whatever, so I can get back to my own entertainment." She put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, lips curling in an annoyed pout.
I shook my head. "No, do you see black candles or satanic stuff in here?" I gestured around my cluttered bedroom. There were pictures on the wall from my honeymoon in the Alps, and a painting of one of the mountain lakes. Clothes were scattered on the floor, and my stack of library books were on my nightstand. The demon slowly looked around, and scowled.
"You had to have done it, or I wouldn't be here tied to you- where's the pentacle, and there's no blood sacrifice- what the hell did you do?" She cried out, looking suddenly panicked. "Send me back, I don't want to be trapped up here!"
"Uh... go! Go back! You're banished. Leave! ... Fuck, just go!" I cried out, starting to shake. Every word was louder than the last, and I knew my neighbors would gossip if they had heard. But the demon just stood there, looking at her hands and then giving a frustrated sound.
"Aaargh! You have got to be kidding me!" She took a step forward and then with unnatural grace fell face forward into the bed next to me. From this angle I could see a pair of long, faintly discernible lumps on her back, and absently I judged them to be where wings would be. She laid there for a moment, and then raised her head. "So you can't send me back- what the fuck. I can't go back without you releasing me."
"Wait, wait, wait." I blurted out. "I release you, you can go- Jesus, my husband won't believe this. " I waved my hands, shooing her away. But the demon just eyed me speculatively, making me suddenly feel like I was being sized up at the club by a pervert.
"Doesn't work like that. You have to use the right phrases and magic and all. If you did it by accident, I'm stuck here. With you." She pouted, and damn if it wasn't painfully adorable. I wish I had a pout like that, I'd win every argument with my husband forever.
"Oh no no no." I breathed. "Not only no but hell no. You're outta here- scram! Door's that way!" My finger pointed towards the apartment door, but the demon just rolled over onto her back, stretching out and sighing disconsolately.
"Can't. Part of the rules- have to be within a certain distance. And I am going to bet you don't know the words to command if you don't know how to banish. Well, I might be stuck here, but at least you don't know how to bully me." She wrinkled her nose, and then sighed. "It could be worse."
I stood up, throwing my arms up. "No fucking way! Are you kidding me, my husband is going to freak out!" I paced the room, shaking my head furiously. I spun towards her, pointing my finger at her. "Can't you turn invisible or disappear to Hell or whatever?"
She gave me an amused look. "Honey, look at me. I'm a succubus, not an ifrit or wraith. I don't turn invisible- I need to be very visible to do my thing. And frankly, your husband will probably like having me around until you figure out what magic you used."
It doesn't bear repeating what I called her, but she took it all in stride, giving me the time to vent at her. I trailed off, slumping against the closet door, covering my face with my hands. "Oh, this cannot be happening. This is a disaster."
She giggled at me, and then shifted into a provocative pose on the bed. "It's not so bad. Why don't you let me take your mind off things for a while, and you'll agree..." she said with the most absolute wicked tone I've ever heard. Not even the most shameless girl at a club has had a tone that could match this demon's.
I slowly lowered my hands and stared daggers at her. "I'm married, and I'm straight." My growling response didn't seem to phase her in the slightest.
"What does that have to do with anything?" She said with a slight smirk, her eyebrow arching with all kinds of implications. And I'm stuck with this? I stared at her for a long minute before digging for my phone.
Maybe Amazon has "The Dummy's Guide to Banishing Demons". | |
[WP] You just summoned a demon, the problem? You have no idea how you did it, and neither does the demon. | "Dan, the microwave's speaking again." I chimed out to the living room, unsure of how to get rid of this problem.
"I will eat the soul of your loved ones and feast upon their eyes." The microwave chortled after, banging the door against itself.
"Turn it off and on again!" Dan walked into the kitchen, placing a hand to his stubble and watching the microwave curiously.
"Tried that." I sighed.
"You will feel your skin peel out in the darkness of Hell while your tongue is ripped out and pushed against your eye socket!" The microwave screamed, shaking left and right. Luckily, it couldn't move, even if it could, the plug chained it nicely.
This wasn't the first time the Microwave had threatened us with eternal damnation. It had been popping up every time I had to microwave something, I still had no idea why only I could summon the spirit that infected our kitchen appliance.
Dan tapped me on the shoulder. "Maybe, we could, hear me out on this, *buy a new microwave?*"
"I'm not giving up on this microwave! It warms up my pizza just the way I like it. If I just throw it away, it'll be someone else's problem anyway." I said.
"The virgin angels will laugh at your guts being displayed on spikes." The microwave interjected.
"Unplugging it doesn't work?" Dan offered another idea.
"No I'm afraid, It just keeps flapping the door."
I hummed, watching Dan scratch his stubble in a mindless gesture. He was thinking and I should be to, but all I could think about was that my pizza was still stuck inside that microwave. I reached my hand for the door, trying to grab hold of the handle and grab the treasure inside. The door slammed on my wrist, more strength than a kitchen appliance should have. I yelped and pulled my hand back, nurturing it. Damn microwave.
"Harharharharhlfgrlglrglg" The microwave jeered me. Why was life always against me? I just wanted my pizza.
"Try duct taping." Dan offered another brilliant idea.
"Duct taping what?" I ruined his brilliant idea.
"Hmm." Dan opened his mouth, then shut it promptly. He looked dejected and ruined, if he couldn't figure out how to deal with a possessed microwave, what would his mother think of him?
"Let's pour water on it." I clapped my hands, smiling proudly.
"What." said Dan.
"What." said the Microwave.
"Think about it, Hell's all fire and darkspawn. Water's pure and healthy. We pour water on this sunavabeetch and he'll pop. Holy water, of course!"
"Brilliant!" Dan agreed, opting to give me a high five.
"Noooooo" screamed the Microwave.
| “Listen, man. Can I have a blanket?” said Amy the demon to me. “It’s freezing in here.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course. Forgive my bad manners,” I replied.
“It’s cool. I’ve seen worse.”
I start walking to the bedroom to grab Amy a blanket. Then I stop, turn around, and size her up. Her? Him? It? I glance to its crotch area, but it catches me looking and I quickly look somewhere else, off in the distance, putting on a far-away face, trying my best to look lost in thought. Amy slides its hand down over its junk zone and rolls its eyes. I realize I’ve been caught and decide to simply blurt out, “What are you?”
“The red horns don’t give it away? How about the forked tail? Never been to Sunday school before?”
“No, I mean are you a boy or a girl?”
“Boy? Girl? First of all, I’m like 8,000 years old, so I’d be a ‘man’ or ‘woman.’ Secondly, dude, you can’t just ask an infernal demon lord what gender they are. It’s rude.”
“Well, I didn’t want to assume…”
“Lastly, I don’t really have genitals. God didn’t exactly want us reproducing.”
“Then why did you cover your groin when I looked at it?”
“AHA! So you were looking! I knew it. That’s fucked up. I’m your guest here; not cool. Go get me that blanket so I can cover myself.”
I mumble another apology and continue walking to my bedroom. I think to myself how terrible a host I’ve been so far, to a demon no less. I decide to rectify this and reroute from the bedroom to my linen closet. If I’m going to do a better job, I ought to present Amy with a fresh, clean blanket rather than a used, dingy one from off my bed. Lord only knows how long it’s been since I last washed it. Actually, Amy might know that answer to that. I think of asking it.
“Two years. Jesus, Mark, you’re really disgusting.”
Wait. Can it read my thoughts? Can you read my thoughts? I think to myself pointedly.
“Yeah. Give me the afghan your mom knitted you.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Clean thoughts, Mark. Clear your mind…
“I don’t have all day here. I don’t care about your weird perversions and, frankly, there’s nothing your little mind could think of that would shock me at this point. Honestly, it’s my turn to roast Judas next and my shift starts at 7. Let’s speed this up a bit. The blanket is on the bottom, to the right.”
Sure enough, it is. I bend down and grab it. Handing it to Amy, I think how inadequate it is. The demon is close to ten feet tall and about four feet wide. He’s hunched over a bit to avoid hitting my ceiling, so it’s tough to tell.
“I’m closer to eight feet, ten inches. The horns add a foot or so.”
“There’s no way that thing is going to cover you. I have larger ones.”
Amy drapes it across its shoulders, like a tiny shawl. “I know what you’ve done under the other blankets in this house over the years and I’d rather not use them, thank you very much. At least you’ve had the decency not to be as rude to your mother’s memory as you have been to me. Most people over the millennia have addressed me as a He, by the way. You can do the same if you’d like, although I'm not used to talking with…. normal folk.”
“Oh. No?”
“Nah, usually Satan sticks me with his more distinguished guests. Former dictators, high scientists, Presidents. You know the sort. Heck, you voted for some of them. Granted, they aren’t in hell yet, but give it some time.”
“I see.”
“Not to brag, but I’m in charge of thirty-six legions down south. And you’re a, what?”
I puff up my chest a bit, feeling more than slightly mocked. “I’m a part-time manager at Gamestop, thank you very much.”
“Uh huh. Right.”
I deflate a little. A lot, actually. There’s now this weird pregnant pause. I speak first: “So why are you here?”
“You’re the one who summoned me. You tell me.”
My mind goes blank. “What?” I ask.
Amy turns his head sideways and gives me a puzzled, penetrating look. He stares at me for a while and then says, “Huh. No kidding. You really don’t know why I’m here. That’s weird.”
“Has this ever happened to you before?”
“Not really, no. Typically when I’m summoned, people are looking for some help of the demonic variety.”
“Like what?”
“Oh you know, help with trampling armies, sparking an unholy revolution, getting even with a particularly thorny foe. The yooge.”
“Right. Well, I don’t have any revolutions i’m currently sparking and my boss is pretty cool at work, so I can’t really think of any enemies I want slayed.”
Amy adjusts the blanket on his shoulders. “I’ve been summoned. I can’t leave until my mission is complete.”
“That’s pretty decent of you. Good work ethic. For a demon, I mean.”
Amy rolls his eyes and scratches his forearm. “That’s hurtful, Mark. I have feelings you know. I’m not just a stereotype.”
I apologize a third time.
“Anyway, it’s not my decision. Those are the union rules.”
“Hell has a union?”
“Yeah, ever since the Eve eating an apple thing, there are fairly strict job site rules. Satan got all the blame for that when really it was an outside contractor who posed as a snake and convinced her to bite into that dang fruit. Thanks to that, we all got a bad name so he cracked down on who does what when. No more outsourcing jobs, etc. A couple of us got together afterward and decided that if Satan was going to be formalizing this thing, we ought to have some protections for on the job injuries, time off, safety regulations and that sort of stuff. So sure, we unionized. Is that a problem? God, you aren’t one of those weird anti-union people are you, Mark?”
Flustered, I overstate my case. “Oh jeez no, definitely not. No way, I love unions. They’re the best.”
He gives me that sidelong look again that says I’m full of it. “Sure, whatever you say. Say, you got any coffee in this house?”
“Definitely. But, uh… would you mind maybe sitting somewhere else while I brew you a cup? You’re kind of burning a hole into my carpet.”
Amy looks down and sees the small, grey curls of smoke rising from directly under his hooves. He scoots over and stands on a metal air grate instead. “My bad, yo.”
Feeling like finally I have the upper hand, I confidently walk to the kitchen and try to turn on the coffee maker, but it’s already got a full pot heated up. That’s when I put two and two together.
“God damnit.”
“Watch the language, Mark. That word kinda stings when you say it.”
I don’t know if he means damn or God, so I keep it broad. “Shoot, I mean uh, jeez darnit? Is that good?” I go to hand Amy a cup of coffee.
“Sure.”
“So, I know why you’re here. At least I think I do.”
He pauses. And waits.
“Last night I kinda had a few too many drinks and might have accidentally asked the devil to fuck up a guy I know.”
“A guy you know? I thought you didn’t have any enemies.”
“Alright, ‘know’ might be a strong word. He’s more like an acquaintance I’ve met. Online, on Xbox Live.”
“Online? As in the internet? Nope, no can do. We’re banned from the internet.”
“How can you be banned from the internet? You’re a demon. Aren't you like, omnipotent? All seeing, all-powerful or whatever?” I ask.
“Not since about 2006. We had an AOL account that we all used, but Baezelbub went to some shady websites and got in trouble with his ISP. I think he tried to download a car or something… Anyway, you’re going to have to appeal to a higher authority on that one.”
“‘Higher authority?! Jesus isn’t going to kill an internet troll for me!” I exclaim.
“No, not God. I mean a webadmin or a moderator. Send them an email and tell them to ban that guy.”
“So we’re clear here, you’re not going to seek out and torment this dude on Xbox live for me in the fiery pits of hell, and your advice is to email an administrator to get him banned?” I inquire, incredulous.
“Yup, and actually if you can email the guys at America Online and see if they’ll unban devilsplaygrnd69@aol.com, the guys and I would really appreciate it.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be sure to get right on that, Amy.”
He seems to miss the sarcasm dripping in my voice. “Good, so we’re cool then?”
“Well, if you can’t avenge me by maiming my enemies, I suppose we’re done here.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be seeing you then.”
Just then, I remember something. “Actually, there is one thing you could do for me before you go.”
“Anything you want, Mark. Just going to cost you your soul.”
“Yeah yeah that’s fine, whatever. If you could key my ex-girlfriend’s car on your way back to hell. Also, she took my soul years ago, so you’ll have to haggle with her on that one.”
“Ohhh, your ex? Cheryl? That’s a no go, too. She’s sort of looked at like a hero by some of the fellas back at work. They admire her. She's super scary. Sorry, champ.”
And with that, Amy disappeared into a puff of sulfurous brimstone and flame, leaving me standing alone, cup of cold coffee in hand, burn marks in my carpet, and an internet troll to frag. By myself. Sigh. | |
[WP] You awake in a cornfield in the middle of the night. A flashlight is on the ground in front of you. A note lies underneath the flashlight. It simply states: "You are being hunted". | Tall cornfield grow stood in rigid paths, playing the part of a natural maze wall. Squishing knuckles through mud, I pushed my balled fist to the surface and uncurled each finger. The same words had been etched into my hand, still a furious scar that made sense under a looming crop light. *You're being hunted.* The nightmare always started this way, soon he'd come charging around the corner chainsaw in hand.
The gurgle of a chainsaw sounded from behind. It sputtered once, twice, and then revved into a shuddering whine. My heart thudded, drowning out sound and making it hard to follow the chainsaw's movement.
The masked man stepped onto the path to my right, seven corn down --it was always seven. I scrambled up, trying to unplug my legs from the soil. He'd never chased me from the right-hand side before, south was the norm. Only this time, leaving my feet submerged long enough had affected the dream --as I'd anticipated. Little changes here and there always affected the outcome.
My muscles strained against clay-like mud, each crack relieving some pressure. The chainsaw man started toward me in slow calculated steps. "Don't do this," I said, "we can talk this out!"
He swung the chainsaw left and right, sending skewered branches to the floor. My first leg burst through the top layer, followed by a left caked in mud. The chainsaw man lunged forward. I dodge rolled in time to catch the throaty grind of the blade cutting dirt. Particles shot onto my cheeks and clothing, I scrambled away in the hopes that he'd be distracted long enough.
Bursting onto my feet, I glanced back at the man, catching his familiar blue eyes and then darting in the opposite direction. The grinding was replaced with the endless whine. I ducked down in a thick outcrop of corn, covering my mouth with a hand and breathing out in labored gasps. As the sound became louder, I scanned the pathways around me, trying to catch the silver blade or white mask. The chainsaw sound disappeared, leaving me in eerie silence.
"I'll talk little girl," the person said from somewhere nearby. It was high-pitched, soft, in fact, I could have sworn it was a woman.
Boots crunching soil grew louder. "Your time to accept my offer is running out."
This was the furthest I'd ever gotten and to make matters worse I knew that voice from somewhere. My hands shook as I stood, despite my willing them to stop. I knew I was in a dream, a nightmare, but that didn't make the stark reality of the situation any less concerning. However, running a finger over my palm reminded me why I was here: *the hunt*.
My mouth may as well have been filled with sand with the dry texture of my tongue. I swallowed hard and gathered my wits. "Tell me why I'm being hunted."
The chainsaw woman stepped into the path in front, with the weapon held high. She smiled and used a gloved hand to beckon me forward.
| My tongue feels like sandpaper against the inside of my mouth. Temples are pounding. I open my eyes to the clear night sky.
"Ugh, another blackout," I say to myself, the smell of bourbon and vomit linger in the air after I open my mouth.
I pull out a pack of American Spirit Lights, and fish my zippo out of my pocket. Taking a long haul off of the cigarette I exhale a large cloud of smoke into the air.
"Ahh, that's that's the stuff," I say, thinking after a few more of these I'll be right in no time.
I notice a flashlight laying a few yards in front of me. Thinking it was unusual I had the foresight to bring it to this random corn field that I passed out in. I shuffle to my feet and pick up the flashlight. A note is taped to the back of it. Having just watched an old unreturned Blockbuster VHS of Memento the other night I figure I had set myself up for a little adventure.
"Randy, you old dog you," I say, thinking about what an incorrigible scamp I am.
The note isn't in my handwriting. It simply says "You are being hunted".
"What the fuck kind of shit is this?" I say angrily as I crumple up the paper and throw on the ground.
Lighting up another cigarette I begin to walk towards where I assume the road is.
"I'm being hunted, yeah right bro, if anyone's doing the hunting it's me god damn it!" I say with an odd amount of self confidence.
i walk for what feels like an hour when I see a fire burning in the distance. Hesitant to approach since I just read a pretty damning letter I decide to scope it out from a distance. Another out of character decision. 9 times out of 10 I would of abruptly ran towards the campfire and for sure ruined whatever pleasant evening the campers were currently having. Instead I walk around the perimeter of the campfire, and begin to crawl through a thick patch of bushes to get a good look at what was going on.
As I crawl I decide to rub mud all over my body as a disguise. Not wanting to ruin my killer leather Chicago Bulls Starter jacket I remove it, and fold it neatly and place it on a rock. Fully coated in mud I get to a vantage point where I can see 3 men sitting around a fire. They are drinking beer, eating potato chips and all have rifles sitting next them. One of the guys has a Kirkland brand outdoor lounge chair with a built in cooler under the seat. Looks super comfy.
"How long you think that there city boy is gonna be passed out?" One man says to another.
"From the looks of him when we picked him up outside of the peeler bar, id say sun up," another said.
"He was pretty god damn wrecked," the third man chimed in.
"This ain't gonna be no good hunt boys," the first man said. "That piece of shit is gonna wake up feelin' like a pile of wet old garbage and will likely welcome my .22 in his face."
The 3 men erupt in laughter. Thinking I wasn't going to go down like this, I needed to come up with a plan. I light up another cigarette. I tastes so god damn good I let out a long sensual groan just like I'd splooged all over my jeans.
"You hear something fellas?" One of the men say.
"You smell that?" Said another.
Remembering the movie Surviving the Game starring Ice T, I leave my lit cigarette on a rock and crawl to a nearby spot where I can remain concealed.
"Warren, lets you and I go check it out." One of them say.
2 of the men get up and walk towards where I left my cigarette burning. I think to myself that it would be a bizarre turn of events if they were just sneaking off to make carnal love to each other while the other man stays by the fire eating his bag of chips. I can't help but snicker.
The 2 men seem to be gone a while, so I begin to think my earlier assumption was correct and we had a couple of marathon boys on our hands. Just then the 3rd man stands up by the fire. On pure instinct I run out of the bushes and push him into the campfire.
Horrible screams fill the night air. For some reason the guy doesn't attempt to stand up. Just lays in the fire, taking its unrelenting heat.
The two other men come running back towards the campfire. One of them was buckling up his pants. I knew it.
"Carlito, get out of the fire!" Warren screams.
"It burns muchachos!" Carlitos yells.
I think my mud camouflage is working because the other 2 men don't notice me. Maybe because they are preoccupied with their friend laying in a campfire burning up something fierce.
Before they take notice of me I take a running start and give Warren some sweet chin music. I've been studying Shawn Michaels moves in the squared circle for years as apart of my PHD studies at the University of Phoenix. I make a solid connection. Pretty confident Warren will be drinking the remainder of his meals.
"Holy fuck!" Yells the last remaining hunter.
"You country bumpkins picked the wrong motherfucker to hunt baby!" I say at the top of my lungs.
"We was just foolin' boy," he pleads. "I stock shelves at Target. I'm don't hunt people for sport."
The man begins weeping.
"If your boys weren't fucked up, would you still be saying this bud?" I say.
"Please, I have a family," he says putting his hands over his face.
I decide to show mercy on this last son of a bitch. I'm really not sure where this burst of confidence and violence has come from. I sell insurance everyday. Get wicked drunk. Crank down to foxy babes online, and play a dickload of video games. I'm not the type of badass who when he finds out he's being hunted as the deadliest game, turns the tables and does the hunting. But here we are.
"Listen, I'll show you mercy." I say holding my hands out towards this man.
"Thank you. Thank you Jesus!" He hollers.
As he bends over to fully commit to his shout outs to Jesus, I run up behind up and pull on the elastic band on his underwear. Executing the most vicious wedgie ever performed on an adult he screams uncontrollable. From the sound made when I ripped his underwear off I have to assume I ripped my his sack in half.
Not wanting to wait around to see the damage to his sack I take off in a full
sprint through the corn field until I eventually find a road.
When I reach the road I realize I forgot my Bulls jacket in the woods. Steamed beyond belief I begin jumping up and down in the street like a child throwing a temper tantrum at the grocery store.
Thinking of all the babes that jacket had brought me over the years.
Once told a chick at Burger King that Scottie Pippen was my uncle, and was coming by my apartment that night if she wanted to come over. Instead of Scottie Pippen, she got my Whopper. Had it her way though. Perfectly seasoned. Sesame buns. | |
Inspired by /u/Hurricane_32 's [post](https://www.reddit.com/r/softwaregore/comments/5q471t/the_year_is_9999_humanity_is_breaking_down_as_all/) | [WP] The year is 9999. Humanity is breaking down as all of the Earth's once plentiful resources are dwindling, and somewhere, amidst all the chaos and wars, as humanity struggles to survive, is a working Windows 7 computer. | "Sir, the men and women are ready for battle. On your command."
"Oh look. Where'd this come from? Nice! It's got The Sims on it. You know what? You guys go on ahead without me."
"Sir, we need you to lead us into-"
"This little sim has a mansion coming his way. Motherload. Motherload. Motherload. Rosebud." | "9&%@Q^*
(6782#^(&
(#@^*&@)
1-0*(&)_(*"
It'd been a long time since humanity had last attempted the Transfer. Considered a last-minute, point of no return strategy, it had been confined to the very depths of V-Earth's bowels. Considered both a political and social nightmare, the Transfer had been delayed up until the ground started being ripped up right underneath the One's feet - of course, then the Transfer seemed like a splendid idea.
The only problem was that Joan couldn't get outside connection with anybody - V-Earth was being consumed at such rapid levels that as soon as they got in contact with an Outlander they'd already been eaten up before Joan could relay their instructions to start the Transfer.
It was then that the hum of the One's consciousness merged with Joan's. In its panic, it had begun to forcefully unite everyone's minds into one, coalescing the sum of humanity's collective wills against the destruction. Joan struggled; the One only enveloped them harder and yet softer - smothering them in the voices of the trillions it had already absorbed.
As Joan began to drift in and out of their minds, a single loud beep alerted them to the fact that there was still one Outlander out there - and they'd found something. It was a primitive device, all worn out and cracked even - Joan wasn't sure if anything physical could handle the Transfer. Its language was in the old tongue as well - Joan struggled to form the words appearing on its screen.
"W@!( --- Wel... ell...cc*))*.... cooOoommee...?"
Perhaps the One had noticed the device as well or perhaps it had been one of the poor souls inside it, using the dredges of its own self-will to commence the Transfer - or perhaps it had been Joan themselves. Either way, as the world began to end its feast on itself, as it tore off huge chunks of the air and turned it to nothingness, as their civilization returned to the black, the Transfer started and Joan felt them squeezing deep, deep, deep, down and under, twisting and turning, a vice in their throats and a corset on their waists - over and under until they Emerged into the World.
The device lay shattered at their feet but from it Joan had emerged. No others would disturb the World - at least none like Joan. |
[WP] Your childhood dreams come back to haunt your adult life | I almost didn't recognise him. His long hair was now cut short, he didn't wear glasses anymore, and his style had completely changed. Before it was all bright colours, and lose, flowing clothes, now it was all black and grey, which would have been tight even if they weren't so soaked that they were sticking to his body. It struck me that he was, and indeed always had been, incredibly skinny. He was sat in the bar, his drink in one hand, the other resting on the sword next to him. He looked like he'd had quite a few.
"Gabriel."
A shock ran through his body, and he turned slowly to look at me. He raised an eyebrow, and downed the rest of his whiskey.
"Michael. It's been some time. Pull up a seat. BARMAN! Give us two of the same."
Wordlessly I walked over, and sat next to him. The barman poured two glasses of whiskey from the bottom shelf and slid them across to us. He glanced at Gabriel, a look of mixed disgust and worry briefly flashing across his face. Gabriel lifted his glass in my direction.
"To the old days."
"To the old days." I echoed, raising my glass too. I took a sip, and he drained half his glass, then set it down on the side.
"So, M, what brings you round these parts?"
"The hunt. You?"
"The same."
I glanced at his sword. It was still sheathed, but it worried me that he would have it so close to hand while drunk.
"I never heard that you'd become a hunter, congratulations."
He snorted, and finished his drink. He set the glass down, looked at the barman, who just shook his head. Gabriel snorted again.
"Some people. But yeah, I joined about a year back. You beat me to it, by a long shot, but I still got there in the end. Speaking of, where's your weapon?"
"In my room. I didn't want to bring it to a bar. Drunk people have a history of being stupid, and I don't want to hurt anyone too badly."
Gabriel nodded, lifted his glass up to drink from it, and looked disappointed when he found it was empty. He looked at the barman again, and again the barman shook his head. Gabriel muttered an insult.
"G, are you okay?"
"I'm just fantastic, thanks for asking. Anyway, I'm out of here, this bar seems to be refusing to serve me anymore."
The barman cleared his throat.
"That'll be 200 silvers, sir."
Gabriel shot a look at the barman. I felt my stomach sinking. 200 silvers was almost enough to buy three bottles worth of whiskey. And Gabriel had never been one who could hold his drink. He strapped his sword on to his waist, and left without a word. I started running after him, when the barman cleared his throat again. Without turning, I threw two gold coins to him, and ran out into the rain. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. I swore, loudly.
"Should watch your mouth, *hunter*. Lot of folk 'round here don't take kindly to you lot interferin'. You waltz in, an' kill a monster or two, then waltz out, your ego polished, and your wallet filled. But what you don't see, is what comes next. Y'see, monsters ain't dumb. They know that the hunters came from here, so they retaliate. They get revenge, an' the people that suffer, are the ones that you're supposed to be protectin'. Way I see it, you're the ones need huntin' down. And would you look at this? You're all alone, in the cold, an' dark, without you're weapon. An' there are six of us."
The six of them had stepped out of the bar after me, and had now surrounded me in a loose circle. All of them had knives, and they looked like they meant to use them. I settled into a ready stance, my body nearly shaking from fear.
"When you were children, did any of you have big dreams?"
The voice came from the shadows, it was a mix of gravel and slur, but I knew it. So did they. After all, we'd all just been in the bar with him. Gabriel stepped out of an alley, his sword resting on his shoulder, a dagger in his right hand.
"Dreams? Why do you want to know about our dreams?"
"Because, when I was younger, I had a dream. My dream was to become the world's greatest hunter, to surpass my parents. I'm living the dream right now. Are any of *you* living *yours*?"
"Hah, we don't need to answer you, hunter scum!"
The talkative one rushed at Gabriel, and stabbed at him. Gabriel calmly stepped to the side, and stabbed the man through the wrist, causing him to drop his knife. Gabriel pointed his sword at the other five.
"You see, the funny thing about dreams," he pulled the dagger out of the thug's arm, and continued through the scream, "is that they have this way of coming back to you. The dreams of your childhood can haunt your adult life, and that's the case with me." He kicked the thug who was now reaching for his knife. "My dream was to show my parents how strong I could become, but I'll never be able to do that now. They died, when I was still only just of age. They weren't killed by monsters, and they didn't just die of disease. Some lowlife scum killed the, just because they were hunters. And here I am, surrounded by reminders that I'll never see my dream come true in a meaningful way. Guess how that makes me feel."
All five of them took a step back, and I understood why. With his gaunt figure, and dark attire, he was the very image of death itself. The dark and rain didn't hurt the image either. He stepped forwards, letting his sword drop to a more comfortable position. His pale blue eyes and the silvery metal of his blades seemed to glow in the low light as he slowly advanced towards my would-be assailants.
"Run away, little bugs, and remember, it's not the monsters you should be afraid of. It's the hunters."
The five of them ran off, their cries of terror echoing into the night. Gabriel sheathed his weapons, and walked over to me. He cuffed me round the back of my head.
"Rule 1: Never leave your weapon behind, anywhere. It doesn't matter where you're going, keep it with you. Understand?"
I nodded, rubbing the spot where he'd hit me.
"Good. Now, mind if I sleep on your floor tonight? I'm broke."
"Is that why you didn't pay for your drink?"
"That, and I wanted to lure those idiots out. So, floor, yes or no?"
"Sure, but you'll have to tell me what's been happening to you since we last met."
He snorted.
"You've got yourself a deal, M." | It's what I *wanted*. Foolish, I know, to see the world with young eyes and expect everything to fall into the simple categories a mind creates. Foolish as well to hold on to those beliefs long after experience shattered them. Yet, that dream follows me. It's too simple to know when to stop.
The dream has always been in the form of a photo, worn by ages of handling, travel, and several attempts to crumple it and toss it aside. Further damage came from dirty fingers smoothing its surface flat once more to reveal the dream. But I can still see it, which is, perhaps, the worst part. It was only thus: a woman, smiling; a boy, sitting on her lap; a man, resting a hand on both.
That is all. Not even a backdrop. The 'where' never mattered.
And I carried it, fool that I was. Because I couldn't see the falseness of the smile, or the tightness of the hand. I could only see the simple.
But life isn't simple.
Eyes wander and see more than they should until they can't focus on those black and white images any more. I proved exemplary at seeing. Once looked upon, outside complexities became intriguing. I set aside the photo and used my observations to get what I could. I even did so legally. The Law, after all, is little more than a wall of doors that over time have been locked, one by one. An inquiring mind will discover that many doors remain open and many more maintain large gaps between them and the next. Overcoming the Law isn't so much a matter of stealing a master key or bringing in a battering ram as it is being able to see the whole.
But, that photo... it followed me the entire time. Perhaps because it is what I once wanted, but more likely because when I look at the riches around me, they are so sharply focused they cut. They are real, and I made them real by looking for them. And I wonder sometimes, if simple might have been real as well, had I the patience to keep my eyes upon it. | |
[WP] Your childhood dreams come back to haunt your adult life | I almost didn't recognise him. His long hair was now cut short, he didn't wear glasses anymore, and his style had completely changed. Before it was all bright colours, and lose, flowing clothes, now it was all black and grey, which would have been tight even if they weren't so soaked that they were sticking to his body. It struck me that he was, and indeed always had been, incredibly skinny. He was sat in the bar, his drink in one hand, the other resting on the sword next to him. He looked like he'd had quite a few.
"Gabriel."
A shock ran through his body, and he turned slowly to look at me. He raised an eyebrow, and downed the rest of his whiskey.
"Michael. It's been some time. Pull up a seat. BARMAN! Give us two of the same."
Wordlessly I walked over, and sat next to him. The barman poured two glasses of whiskey from the bottom shelf and slid them across to us. He glanced at Gabriel, a look of mixed disgust and worry briefly flashing across his face. Gabriel lifted his glass in my direction.
"To the old days."
"To the old days." I echoed, raising my glass too. I took a sip, and he drained half his glass, then set it down on the side.
"So, M, what brings you round these parts?"
"The hunt. You?"
"The same."
I glanced at his sword. It was still sheathed, but it worried me that he would have it so close to hand while drunk.
"I never heard that you'd become a hunter, congratulations."
He snorted, and finished his drink. He set the glass down, looked at the barman, who just shook his head. Gabriel snorted again.
"Some people. But yeah, I joined about a year back. You beat me to it, by a long shot, but I still got there in the end. Speaking of, where's your weapon?"
"In my room. I didn't want to bring it to a bar. Drunk people have a history of being stupid, and I don't want to hurt anyone too badly."
Gabriel nodded, lifted his glass up to drink from it, and looked disappointed when he found it was empty. He looked at the barman again, and again the barman shook his head. Gabriel muttered an insult.
"G, are you okay?"
"I'm just fantastic, thanks for asking. Anyway, I'm out of here, this bar seems to be refusing to serve me anymore."
The barman cleared his throat.
"That'll be 200 silvers, sir."
Gabriel shot a look at the barman. I felt my stomach sinking. 200 silvers was almost enough to buy three bottles worth of whiskey. And Gabriel had never been one who could hold his drink. He strapped his sword on to his waist, and left without a word. I started running after him, when the barman cleared his throat again. Without turning, I threw two gold coins to him, and ran out into the rain. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. I swore, loudly.
"Should watch your mouth, *hunter*. Lot of folk 'round here don't take kindly to you lot interferin'. You waltz in, an' kill a monster or two, then waltz out, your ego polished, and your wallet filled. But what you don't see, is what comes next. Y'see, monsters ain't dumb. They know that the hunters came from here, so they retaliate. They get revenge, an' the people that suffer, are the ones that you're supposed to be protectin'. Way I see it, you're the ones need huntin' down. And would you look at this? You're all alone, in the cold, an' dark, without you're weapon. An' there are six of us."
The six of them had stepped out of the bar after me, and had now surrounded me in a loose circle. All of them had knives, and they looked like they meant to use them. I settled into a ready stance, my body nearly shaking from fear.
"When you were children, did any of you have big dreams?"
The voice came from the shadows, it was a mix of gravel and slur, but I knew it. So did they. After all, we'd all just been in the bar with him. Gabriel stepped out of an alley, his sword resting on his shoulder, a dagger in his right hand.
"Dreams? Why do you want to know about our dreams?"
"Because, when I was younger, I had a dream. My dream was to become the world's greatest hunter, to surpass my parents. I'm living the dream right now. Are any of *you* living *yours*?"
"Hah, we don't need to answer you, hunter scum!"
The talkative one rushed at Gabriel, and stabbed at him. Gabriel calmly stepped to the side, and stabbed the man through the wrist, causing him to drop his knife. Gabriel pointed his sword at the other five.
"You see, the funny thing about dreams," he pulled the dagger out of the thug's arm, and continued through the scream, "is that they have this way of coming back to you. The dreams of your childhood can haunt your adult life, and that's the case with me." He kicked the thug who was now reaching for his knife. "My dream was to show my parents how strong I could become, but I'll never be able to do that now. They died, when I was still only just of age. They weren't killed by monsters, and they didn't just die of disease. Some lowlife scum killed the, just because they were hunters. And here I am, surrounded by reminders that I'll never see my dream come true in a meaningful way. Guess how that makes me feel."
All five of them took a step back, and I understood why. With his gaunt figure, and dark attire, he was the very image of death itself. The dark and rain didn't hurt the image either. He stepped forwards, letting his sword drop to a more comfortable position. His pale blue eyes and the silvery metal of his blades seemed to glow in the low light as he slowly advanced towards my would-be assailants.
"Run away, little bugs, and remember, it's not the monsters you should be afraid of. It's the hunters."
The five of them ran off, their cries of terror echoing into the night. Gabriel sheathed his weapons, and walked over to me. He cuffed me round the back of my head.
"Rule 1: Never leave your weapon behind, anywhere. It doesn't matter where you're going, keep it with you. Understand?"
I nodded, rubbing the spot where he'd hit me.
"Good. Now, mind if I sleep on your floor tonight? I'm broke."
"Is that why you didn't pay for your drink?"
"That, and I wanted to lure those idiots out. So, floor, yes or no?"
"Sure, but you'll have to tell me what's been happening to you since we last met."
He snorted.
"You've got yourself a deal, M." | "In the future, we won't need to drive anywhere for anything. We'll all have big glass tubes coming into our homes, and you'd be able to hop in one at any time in the day and be taken to any place on the planet. It'd be fast too, you would be in London from New York City in two hours and then London to Moscow in three. In the future, there'd be no war and there'd be no sworn enemies. We'd all spend our days socializing with our multinational friends and we could visit them whenever we wanted, for however long we wanted. In the future, there will be no need to eat except for pleasure. All your nutritional needs could be met by a small red tablet, given out for free by your government, that would taste like your favorite meal----"
"Sorry for interrupting, Mister Frank Maloney. That just doesn't sound fun. Seems less like a dream and more like a nightmare to me. What's wrong with flying in planes to places? What's wrong with regular food from a tin? What's the point in being in a rich country if every other country is equally as rich?"
Old man Maloney looked at the crackling campfire and then at the young man sitting on the tree trunk beside him. "Well," said Maloney, "nothing is wrong with it I suppose. But ain't it always best to dream?" | |
[WP] You're a sidekick. The new bad guy in town has you and your hero captured. The bad guy walks into the room you two are being held in. Right as your hero begins his monologue explaining how the bad guy will never win, he pulls out a gun and shoots your hero dead on the spot. | I stared at the blood splatter on the wall. *He's... dead.*
I look towards the villain. He's laughing his heart out now, a continuous laughter that contained nothing but pure joy and malice. "I killed him! *I killed him*!" He looked towards me. "I did it, Sparrow. You precious master, your Falcon is dead. Dead!" He began laughing again. I cleared my throat.
"Ahem."
He stopped and looked at me. "What you want? You gonna launch into a monologue too? Huh?" His hands waved around in a mock imitation of Falcon's would-be speech. "Oh, you'll never win! Good trumps evil! The light of justice will never be snuff out!"
"Uh, no, actually."
"Ha, *right*. You can - wait, what'd you say?"
"I said." I looked him dead in the eyes. "No. I mean, I'm impressed."
"Im-Impressed?" He looks taken back. "Are we not supposed to be, like, you know... mortal enemies?"
"That's Falcon and you, Hunter." I pointed out. "OK, seriously. Look, I haven't met a bad guy this smart in *years*. Remember two years back? Lazor?"
"I remember him." Hunter nodded. "What about him?"
"He tied us up in a room. *Full of uninstalled glass panes*."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. Remember Mister Evilman?"
"Sure does. His Death Ray was pretty solid."
"Yeah. Except he waited the entire length of Falcon's monologue. I disassembled the whole device right under his nose and he didn't even notice."
"Damn. So your point?"
"My point? You're fucking smart! Not like those retarded... dumbasses! You actually used good-quality rope, to start off. And this room is pretty much bare, do you see anything sharp for us to cut the ropes? No. Do you see a ventilation shaft? No. Do you have easily-persuaded or -overpowered goons guarding us with tools that could potentially help us escape? No, no and no. You didn't even listen to Falcon's speech, for God's sake. That guy's voice is like magic, he just drones on and on and on."
"OK... so I'm still not getting it. Is this another thing you're doing to delay your inevitable death, so your police buddies can come in and save the day?"
"No. I legitimately wanna join you. Seriously, Falcon's getting old. He's forty-six and he's already acting like a cliched, senile old man. I dare say my future would be way brighter with you as my leader, or mentor, or whatever."
Hunter's face stayed emotionless for a while. Then it lit up in a smile. "I knew you have potential, kid. Come here." He came over and released my bindings. "With you at my side, we'll definitely-"
He never got to finish. The six-inch blade slid effortlessly out of his abdomen, and slid back into his body, right into his heart. He gasped.
"Thank you, you predictable imbecile." I whispered. "Now that both of you are out of the way... the whole world will know the name of Sparrow!" | “O SHIT!
O SHIT!
OOOO FUCK NO! SHIT!”
“Shut up”.
I immediately stopped screaming, but the whimpering still continued as Eddy Lector smiled at me. Gun still smoking and a red hole right in Sean’s forehead. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed beneath the mask, but the white slits in his mask where his eyes would be provided a very disturbing picture.
“Don’t you just hate those long monologues?” Eddy began, waving the gun in my face. “I mean seriously, if you’re gonna do something, freaking do it! Am I right? I mean, all this long-winded diatribe...for what? See, that’s the problem with “heroes” nowadays, all talk and no action. I mean in my day…”
The blood splatter caught me unawares as I covered my eyes. When I opened them, there was a bloody stump where Eddy Lector’s head used to be.
I could feel my body slump to the ground as I saw Officer Foley lower his gun and rush towards me, a large number of officers in riot gear in tow.
Foley untied me as the rest of the police officers swept the area. He looked down at
Sean’s dead body. My mind was still processing it. Sean was dead.
“I wonder who Vector really was.” One of the lab boys who was marking the scene said as he reached for Sean’s mask.
Foley’s fist came out of nowhere. “You will give this hero the respect he deserves”. The lab technician rubbed his sore jaw and scurried off.
Foley looked at me with sad eyes and nodded firmly. “His secret stays secret.”
I nodded weakly. As far as I was concerned, I was out.
I’d had enough of the hero business. | |
[WP] You're a sidekick. The new bad guy in town has you and your hero captured. The bad guy walks into the room you two are being held in. Right as your hero begins his monologue explaining how the bad guy will never win, he pulls out a gun and shoots your hero dead on the spot. | I guess I'd really forgotten. Over the past few years, I guess the fact had just gotten lost amongst the long nights. Every thug and deranged psychopath at near every street, intersection, or back alley in this city. I remember them all. The one thing I'd forgotten?
We were only human.
I doubt Uncle Rob ever forgot that. But I sure as hell had. We started this when I was sixteen! I was cuffing bad guys before I could drive! It's hard to remember ever being a kid right now. A firm slap on the side of my face brings me out of my thoughts.
"Come now, Drawback. We're gonna have so much more fun now than we ever did!"
Stilskin's voice was still as raspy as ever. His crooked smile was like a window for the cracked remnants of his teeth. In his hand, he was still holding it. An M1911, smoke seeping from the barrel into the cold warehouse air.
"Ding dong! Sun Archer's dead! I lodged bullets inside his head! Hahahaha!"
That God forsaken laugh. He cut his laugh short and turned to me.
"See, old Archie was a good old sport, but you, Drawback, you always were always more... engaging. You've got the quips. You've got the one liners. I think you and I are gonna be at this for a lot longer than old Sunny here! Whadaya say?"
He was making this about me. I kept myself from looking down at Uncle Rob's body, but his blood was already spilling towards where I was sitting. All my witty remarks were gone.
"No."
He stepped closer, and brought himself to eye with me.
"No? What the bloody hell do you mean-"
I cut off the rest of his question by slamming forehead into his face. He staggered back, off balance, onto the floor. I dislocated my left thumb so that I could pull my wrists free from their bindings. Free now, and with Stilskin still writhing on the ground, I ran up and delivered a swift kick to his stomach. I paused. This was usually where me and Uncle Rob would slap cuffs on him and call it a day.
Blood dripping from his nose, he looks up.
"Hahahahaha! I knew you'd wanna play. When should I schedule my next prison break? Next month? Two weeks? Hmmm? I wouldn't wanna miss the funeral service! Hahahahahaa!"
No. I won't do this forever. Not like Uncle Rob. I looked over at Uncle's corpse. Red stains had seeped through his golden yellow suit.
I looked to the right where his bow and quiver lay on the table. Before I could pick them up I noticed my bow on the ground nearby. Shattered and useless from when we got captured. And Stilskin's gun right next to it. Must've slid over here when he fell.
I took one last look at Uncle Rob's bow, then picked up the gun.
"We both know you won't do it. It ain't in you boy-oh! You're about truth and justice, hahaha!"
I crouched down and pushed the gun into his neck.
His voice now hissing out of his constricted windpipe.
"A little boy sits on the fence, which way will he fall? Justice or-"
-BANG-
"Vengeance..." | “O SHIT!
O SHIT!
OOOO FUCK NO! SHIT!”
“Shut up”.
I immediately stopped screaming, but the whimpering still continued as Eddy Lector smiled at me. Gun still smoking and a red hole right in Sean’s forehead. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed beneath the mask, but the white slits in his mask where his eyes would be provided a very disturbing picture.
“Don’t you just hate those long monologues?” Eddy began, waving the gun in my face. “I mean seriously, if you’re gonna do something, freaking do it! Am I right? I mean, all this long-winded diatribe...for what? See, that’s the problem with “heroes” nowadays, all talk and no action. I mean in my day…”
The blood splatter caught me unawares as I covered my eyes. When I opened them, there was a bloody stump where Eddy Lector’s head used to be.
I could feel my body slump to the ground as I saw Officer Foley lower his gun and rush towards me, a large number of officers in riot gear in tow.
Foley untied me as the rest of the police officers swept the area. He looked down at
Sean’s dead body. My mind was still processing it. Sean was dead.
“I wonder who Vector really was.” One of the lab boys who was marking the scene said as he reached for Sean’s mask.
Foley’s fist came out of nowhere. “You will give this hero the respect he deserves”. The lab technician rubbed his sore jaw and scurried off.
Foley looked at me with sad eyes and nodded firmly. “His secret stays secret.”
I nodded weakly. As far as I was concerned, I was out.
I’d had enough of the hero business. | |
[WP] You're a sidekick. The new bad guy in town has you and your hero captured. The bad guy walks into the room you two are being held in. Right as your hero begins his monologue explaining how the bad guy will never win, he pulls out a gun and shoots your hero dead on the spot. | I guess I'd really forgotten. Over the past few years, I guess the fact had just gotten lost amongst the long nights. Every thug and deranged psychopath at near every street, intersection, or back alley in this city. I remember them all. The one thing I'd forgotten?
We were only human.
I doubt Uncle Rob ever forgot that. But I sure as hell had. We started this when I was sixteen! I was cuffing bad guys before I could drive! It's hard to remember ever being a kid right now. A firm slap on the side of my face brings me out of my thoughts.
"Come now, Drawback. We're gonna have so much more fun now than we ever did!"
Stilskin's voice was still as raspy as ever. His crooked smile was like a window for the cracked remnants of his teeth. In his hand, he was still holding it. An M1911, smoke seeping from the barrel into the cold warehouse air.
"Ding dong! Sun Archer's dead! I lodged bullets inside his head! Hahahaha!"
That God forsaken laugh. He cut his laugh short and turned to me.
"See, old Archie was a good old sport, but you, Drawback, you always were always more... engaging. You've got the quips. You've got the one liners. I think you and I are gonna be at this for a lot longer than old Sunny here! Whadaya say?"
He was making this about me. I kept myself from looking down at Uncle Rob's body, but his blood was already spilling towards where I was sitting. All my witty remarks were gone.
"No."
He stepped closer, and brought himself to eye with me.
"No? What the bloody hell do you mean-"
I cut off the rest of his question by slamming forehead into his face. He staggered back, off balance, onto the floor. I dislocated my left thumb so that I could pull my wrists free from their bindings. Free now, and with Stilskin still writhing on the ground, I ran up and delivered a swift kick to his stomach. I paused. This was usually where me and Uncle Rob would slap cuffs on him and call it a day.
Blood dripping from his nose, he looks up.
"Hahahahaha! I knew you'd wanna play. When should I schedule my next prison break? Next month? Two weeks? Hmmm? I wouldn't wanna miss the funeral service! Hahahahahaa!"
No. I won't do this forever. Not like Uncle Rob. I looked over at Uncle's corpse. Red stains had seeped through his golden yellow suit.
I looked to the right where his bow and quiver lay on the table. Before I could pick them up I noticed my bow on the ground nearby. Shattered and useless from when we got captured. And Stilskin's gun right next to it. Must've slid over here when he fell.
I took one last look at Uncle Rob's bow, then picked up the gun.
"We both know you won't do it. It ain't in you boy-oh! You're about truth and justice, hahaha!"
I crouched down and pushed the gun into his neck.
His voice now hissing out of his constricted windpipe.
"A little boy sits on the fence, which way will he fall? Justice or-"
-BANG-
"Vengeance..." | *"Dem's da brakes, Arby."*
*"No, those aren't the brakes. Those are never going to be the brakes for a man like me, a man who's never going to stop while wicked men like you---"*
I don't know what I was expecting.
I don't know what the fuck I thought was going to happen when I saw Johnny Midnite reach into the inside of his jacket after putting away the zippo that lit his last cigarette. I don't know what the hell I expected, but I know what I didn't expect. I didn't expect the ringing in my ears that drowned everything out around me, I didn't expect the muzzle flash that nearly blinded me as it went off inches from my face, and I didn't expect the 10mm bullet that rendered The Arbiter from a present to a past tense within micro seconds in front of my fuckin' eyes like a candle's wick being snuffed out.
In moments, in fucking microseconds, my entire outlook was changed. I thought it'd hurt more, but the numbing realization that filled my heart was painless. It wasn't painless because it didn't hurt, it was painless because somewhere in my mind, synapses didn't fire, and something didn't click to set it off in my head that my friend, and my mentor, the man who was more a father to me that my biological sperm donor had ever been, was now sagging forward against his bindings with a gapin' hole in his forehead and an even bigger exit wound comin' out the back with matted, blonde, hair hanging from the torn kevlar of his mask.
The scent of nitrocellulose mixed with singed flesh and hair, it turned my stomach in ways that I didn't see coming and before I knew it, the contents of my stomach were coming from my mouth, spilling across the floor and splatterin' against the front of my costume near my thighs and knees.
I might've cried, if I wasn't so goddamned scared that I couldn't function, especially when the heated barrel of that custom engraved pistol pressed hard against my forehead to lift it up, causing the still hot muzzle of that 1911 to burn my damn skin. I'd like to think that I'm brave, but I'm a goddamn liar if I told you that I wasn't ready to piss my pants and cry right then and there, if I could even get the sobs out. *"I ain't gonna splatter your brain pan 'cross da back, Kid. Least not yet."* That whiskey cured voice sounded like razors across a chalk board as he crouched in front of me, snatchin' my hair back to make me look at him, only to jerk me to the side, to make me look at Arbiter. *"..Dis is what happens when grown ass men play dress up an' play hide'n'go fuck up in other people's business. I told that mother fucker what I was gonna do, and he thought it was a game, so this is what I'm tellin' you, Scrub. Dis ain't no fuckin' place for a person who wants to play hero."*
I wanted to rebuke him. I wanted to say somethin', I wanted to say anythin', but the words never came to me, not even as Johnny Midnite got up an' turned around. Not a fuckin' peep left me as he walked out with his goon squad, and their black clad silhouettes left the room. I didn't even say a thing when the cops found me three days later, in a mess of my own making.
Arbiter taught me what it meant to be a good man, but Johnny Midnite taught me that actions spoke a lot louder than words ever could.
And that mother fucker was about to hear a *sermon*, y'dig? | |
[deleted] | [WP] The year is 1735, and the first Aztec conquistador lands his ship on the shores of Spain. | From *West meets East: How Leif Erickson Changed the World*
*(Translation courtesy of the University of the Triple Alliance)*
If one asks any Mexican child what were the dates that *truly* changed the world, they would reply 0 A.M (1325 AD), 400 A.M (1735 AD), and 326 B.M (999 AD). One is obvious- the formation of the Triple Alliance, known to foreigners as Mexico, or the Aztec Alliance. Another, less obvious, is the landing of Mahuizoh in Iberia, the beginning of the wars known to Europeans variously as the Castile War, *La Defensa*, or the Transcontinental War. However, all of this couldn't have been possible without the last one: the landing of Leif Erickson in what is now Vinland...
...
From the anthology: *THE GLOBAL WAR ZERO:THE TRANSCONTINENTAL WAR AND IT'S CONSEQUENCES*
Bartholomew was feeling sick to his stomach.
Outside, was a whirlwind of color. Red and Purple, the colors of the Castilian king, could be seen at every street corner. The war hawks cries have been answered.
Castile was going to war.
*Fools!* thought Bartholomew. none of them had even the faintest idea of what they were getting into.
He have tried to warn them. He campaigned, spoke, and acted against war. he had even petitioned the good catholic king Juan IV. It was all ignored. Who would listen to a grumpy old man anyways?
He had fought those Mexicans, long ago. During the War of the Rockies , he had fought the Mexicans at Yellowstone and Teewinot. He was a brash, stupid young boy back then. He thought that righteous catholic fury would win the day.
At Teewinot, the Mexicans swarmed over the field like leaves blowing from a tree. The numbered in the hundreds of *thousands*. It did'nt matter the the Castilians fielded the most advanced troops in the world. They were cut down like how one would trim grass.
That was thirty years ago. Now, the Mexican Army was *three times that size*. And now they had the technological advantage, with the godforsaken *Muisca* in tow.
He wept for his country. for their *stupidity*.
....
"*Mexico isn't a country with an army. It's an army which happens to have a country.*"
-Thorstein Karlsefni, Chief of the Vinlandic Army.
....
"*VOLLEY GUNS! GET DOWN!*"
*Tiachcahuan* Quanah Comache screamed at his troops, as another wave of Castilian guns whizzed over their heads.
*good, it stopped. they'll need another minute to reload those cursed guns.* He screamed at his troops once again.
"*IF YOU IDIOTS WANT TO LIVE, GET UP NOW!*"
That moment, one of the conscripts tried to get up, only to set off a mine. His face was blown clean off.
Sometimes he felt a bit sorry for them. Then he remembered how they sneered and were disobedient *pricks* because he was a "dirty *Comanche* snake."
Serves 'em right.
He could already see the castle. What did they call it? *Guimarae?* *Guimaraesas?* Whatever the name, the Castilians were putting up one hell of a fight.
He didn't mind. will just make the sacrifices all the better.
....
I'll write more if peoples want.
| The lands of Lisboa have fallen to our sieges! The sacrifices keep us strong!
Their strongholds are no match for us! Their gods are weak and pitiful.
Today, the invaders will make haste and run, and the Nahuatl will slay them all!
March on, warriors!
Glory awaits us!
The sunset invasion is our rite of passage! |
[deleted] | [WP] The year is 1735, and the first Aztec conquistador lands his ship on the shores of Spain. | Dear brother Alberto,
To begin my letter,first i want to greet you. How are you doing? We are better now. The weather is driving us mad, our wagons keep stranding in the mud. There are plenty of news to report from here on the road, mainly rumors. We are still picking up more refugees as we move towards Marseille. Women and children, oxen, a few wounded, so few. We are all going in the same direction, away from those foul demons.
Listen to me dear friend,if this letter ever comes into your hands. These demons,they are not men! They are made from iron, they do not die. They do not need rest, know no fear. Dear friend,there is no God! Maybe in our psalms and prayers, masses of the priests and the ringing of church bells. But not in Spain,not anymore. Our soldiers of Christ, brave Spaniards are cut down where they stand. Slaughtered from an enemy far away riding iron demons which snouts rain Hell's fire.There are flying iron beasts above us, breathing fire and smoke, casting colossal nets on our soldiers, picking them up and taking them beyond sight, alive, surely to be eaten in the adamant jaws of fiends and monsters! O brother,i can't describe the butchery bestowed upon us. There is no army, the slaughter at Toledo was enormous.
I am trying to help the wounded as much as i can, but the wounds are terrible. Many were run down by the demons, riding like the apocalypse through our men, limbs and spirits crushed under their iron heels. I can't get the screams out of my head. Our muskets hit with zeal, but the steel monsters keep rolling over and over across the field hissing flame, until they get to our lines. We had pikes prepared but they failed miserably. The monsters are adored by fetishes, noses, ears, Satan himself riding them i am sure of it my friend.
It all ended very fast, we are on the retreat since.
This is a punishment for our sins dear brother, a lesson. We must pay for our crimes and the time of reckoning has come at last, i am sure of it. I will not survive this, there is no hope.
I must go now brother,the wagon is unstuck,i must help with the wounded and the oxen. I hope we see each other again. Be well my dear Alberto.
Your loving friend,
Bartomeu | The lands of Lisboa have fallen to our sieges! The sacrifices keep us strong!
Their strongholds are no match for us! Their gods are weak and pitiful.
Today, the invaders will make haste and run, and the Nahuatl will slay them all!
March on, warriors!
Glory awaits us!
The sunset invasion is our rite of passage! |
[WP] "Crocs... really Steve? Surely an assassin would wear more... practical shoes." | "What's wrong with crocs?" The other assassin asked confused. In Kyle's mind, there were many things wrong with crocs. But the most pertinent fact had to be...
"You're wearing god damned socks with'em!" Steve merely raised an eyebrow at his friend's rage. He was honestly the last person to be commenting about footwear.
"Kyle, you wear *just* socks on missions." Kyle huffed. Of course he wore just socks! How else was he supposed to be silent on a stone hard surface? He pointed out this fact to his compatriot and was met with a stare of incredulity.
"Kyle, you wear *quite literally* just socks on missions..." And it was true. In fact, they were both on an assignment currently. Their target was one of the many Saudi Arabian princes that were often targeted for their inheritance. Said prince was miles away, resting in his lavish room in a lavish tower. Meanwhile, both our bumbling heroes were camping out on a rock outcropping miles away, lining up their sniper rifle for a kill shot.
"Well, it helps me focus, Steve! How else am I supposed to get in the *zone*?!" The now revealed to be naked man asked as he laid his body along the stone surface and put his eye to the scope. The odd assassin wiggled his naked posterior for emphasis as he settled his position. Steve rolled his eyes.
"I don't know, and I honestly don't care. I'm more concerned with the fact that you're okay with pressing your *thing* against scalding rocks." He pointed out as he too laid himself across the platform, pulling out his spotting binoculars.
"Eh, I've had worse. Besides, the burn ain't that bad." Kyle said as he shrugged his shoulders, his rifle rising with the motion. Steve stared at him.
"What the hell are you comparing it too?" He asked, disturbed.
"Things. Very painful things." A loud crack resounded through the air. Steve checked his binoculars.
"Target down." He confirmed. Kyle nodded. Steve stood up and went to packing the things. Kyle tried, but was unsuccessful. Steve noticing his friend's plight, did what anyone would in this situation.
"I'm gonna get a camera and a spatula." He said nonchalant as he ducked into their shared tent. | "Excuse me! What about these do not scream practical! The comfort, the style. What's not to love?"
"Look, Steve, Maybe once you have been in field as long as I, you will understand practical," Teresa said. Flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder.
"Look, Teresa," Steve said mockingly, "I don't need to be in any field for a second to understand practical." Steve turned to walk away.
"Fine. Just don't make any noise, please. I have enough problems with the boss already," Teresa pleaded. "I don't even know why they assigned me the newbie. How much experience do you have any way?" Teresa said with a huff.
"Well, right now? The answer would be none. I just responded to a Craigslist ad."
"Craigslist? That's how people are killed Steve."
"Teresa, your job is to literally kill people!"
| |
[WP] You are a farmer in medieval europe. A time traveler gives you a glock, lot's of boxes of ammo and teaches you how to use it. How will you change history? | This is magic isnt it?
This is the devil's will.
What could i possibly do with this tool and knowledge?
What will they think of me now?
The tax collector came by my door this morning. He was overcharging me again for the amount of land i have. My yield seems to get smaller yet he asks for more each time. Soon it will topple my economy. My farm wont feed the citizens and the king's stock hold at the same time. If only the king knew about the balance of food and life. If only his wise advisors warn him of the dangers of starvation. If he could let up, if he could listen, Maybe then, could we truly prosper as a country.
Im just an old man, rambling my thoughts back and forth like the rattling of this gadget of sorcery dangling beside me. None have yet to ask what it is. Ill make sure this is kept secret. The way those animals burst from the inside was nothing short of the horrors of hell. Imagine the terror of the citizens or villagers seeing the might and awesome power of this... "gun".
The man, he said he came from another time.
He told me things that reminded me of my childhood education. My father would always tell me there is a reason and mechanism for all moving things. There was something before, and will always be something after. The sciences this strange future man has shared with me have nearly been forgotten. How the metal flies through the air or why it makes living things bleed so dramatically. Its not sharper than any sword. It barely is thinner than a mallet's tip. And my understanding of the easy part is what keeps me from insanity.
The people have started to ask questions. The loud booms at night echo through the palace they tell each other. Rumors are spreading as if there is a secret war invisible to them. Since catapults can only reach so far they guess for weeks with no idea it is one that lives among them that is causing such unsettlement. I must practice my aim in another area. Perhaps deep in the forest.
A year has passed, and As i travel back to my farmland i see him again with a larger cart than before. He has 2 guards instead of one today. And two carts. He shouldnt ask for any more. I can tell one guard is a rookie as the other explains every step taken and every action's reasoning. He tells him about the justice of the king and how they must have more to be more. Their strength is as thick as their skulls. But no matter how thick this "gun" and it's "bullets" will pass through their heads as if i have tossed a pebble in the water.
"Do not take another step" i said to the three
"This is my farm and i refuse to let my villagers die for the sake of a greedy king"
"Our' king." The veteran guard stated. His voice as manly as his beard.
"We have out duty. And just as we are meant to protect the kingdom by our strength, you are meant to nourish and replenish that with your harvests." He continued
The tax collector then butted in "it matters not what villagers live or die for the king is worth their lives and more"
"There will be nothing left to rule here if he lets them starve." I said with gritted teeth "could you leave enough foods for the villagers, ill bargain anythin-"
"ENOUGH" he interrupted "i will not bring anything less than what his majesty demands!"
"Guards, carry the last of if to the carts"
As they carry the crates i see the carts full of just about everything i had. They took more than they said they would. And in my frustration i decided i would kill them. Without hesitation i took the gun and fired it.
They were startled by the noise yet, did not realize they were in any danger. I aimed for something to make noise, broke a hinge off the cart, glad the horses carrying it were safe. Soon, when they realized i was the source of the noise with my stance of the point aimed at them. Noticing the damage behind them, they started to flinch at my hands as i choose their life shall cease this morning.
The boy must be 18 yeasts or less of age. His body crouched with hands on head begging for mercy "do not curse me with the sorcery you have inflicted upon the others" "my mind is righteous and the king is holy" he said "ive nothing but lived a life for the sake of justice" he continued "please i beg you"
"HARK! Go, tell your king that this village is soverign of him" i said "take one horse and leave the other to me. Tell him that this village is now its own kingdom, with an army of one and that if he values anything he will heed my words with great fear. I alone, can end his entire kingdom"
...
.
I have alot i could do with this. I wanna go so far into the history change, theory, gun techniqies, and war strategies that could go on, like the anime "GATE" but...
I could continue this.... lemme know what you think | "Hey, you, grimy," a man spoke to me in an unfamiliar accent. It lulled my head up from my work; pushing my seed into the tough dirt perchance to create something of my own, something that I could have without it being taken away from me.
When my eyes finally met the man, he held out a metal machine; it was unlike any ore I had ever seen. It was black, like obsidian, but not as shiny. I grasped its handle and the soft, springy material let my hand intermingle with it like two lovers who had finally married. Whatever this thing was, it was natural for me.
"What is this?" I inquired, but in my awe the man had disappeared. I was left alone with a primal urge to pull upon the metal toothpick that resided inside a guard. It resembled the hilt of a rapier, shielding my finger from the outside world. What happened next truly confirmed my belief in things such as the devil.
I don't think my ears will ever recover from that first deafening roar from the weapon. It decimated my perfectly tilled land, and left a single golden ball in the dirt. How much I could get with something like this! I immediately emptied the gun's magazine into the dirt and collected the to-be money. Tomorrow morning will be great! I'll be rich, I'll own a castle, I'll have people bow to me, women will want to marry me.
I had some of the best sleep I've ever had that night.
But in the morning, I was awoken to the footsteps of what was unmistakably... Bandits. I got so far... This can't happen. They bashed down my door, and one by one pushed their way in. I grabbed my axe; it was a simple hand axe made for cutting fire wood. The head had already broken off five times. I don't know what I was thinking.
Two lunged forward, with their shiny metal swords. One of them met my axe, which crashed upon his cracked helmet. Blood trickled down his forehead and after a few moments he fell down. But the other bastard, he stabbed right through my bed attire. The pain was unbearable, and I blacked out.
I was finally going to have something of my own. I let it slip through my fingers. But, I guess it was going to be a harsh winter anyways. It's better for me to die.
(My first first person story. Sorry if it's bad.) | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | I haven't actually written anything before, so advice and constructive criticism would be appreciated,
It has been only two weeks since my life took a sharp left turn at weird. Wow, it's weird to think that it was only two weeks ago that I was a normal guy at college. That the biggest concerns I would have in my life were tests and girls. Now here I am, crouched on the roof of a skyscraper like freaking batman watching my mark make his tipsy way to his waiting limo.
It all started with my uncle’s death. We were pretty close. Or, well, as close as we could be what with him traveling all around the world for his work. Uncle Rob was always willing to listen to my teenager’s problems. He even answered my frantic two AM phone call when I slid off the road and couldn't reach my parents; within thirty minutes there was a tow truck pulling me out of the ditch. That wouldn't have been too strange if I hadn't been in the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm (I was on my way home for Christmas, not whatever it was you were thinking).
His death came as a shock to me. I mean, he was only 37 and in perfect health. I half expected him to live to be a hundred and fifty. But still, the news came that he had died in a car crash. The police said that alcohol was involved, but I couldn't believe that. Uncle Rob had sworn off alcohol before I was born, said it clouded his judgment too much.
Speaking of which, that man Down there is really drunk. It's honesty astonishing that he is still upright. Oop there he goes, he has fallen over and it looks like he is swearing at a nearby trashcan.
Anyway, that is all beside the point. The day after his funeral I got a box in the mail from him. I was understandably confused, I mean, it isn't every day that you get mail from a dead relative add to that the fact that it was post marked as having been sent the day he died, I was dying to know what his last words for me were. Inside was a note and a small wooden box, like the kind my mom keeps her jewlery in.
My hands were shaking as I unfolded the note:
“Steve,
If you are reading this then I am dead. There are many who would kill for what I am giving you, this is the only way I can think of to keep these SKILLS out of their hands. I am sorry, they will be coming for you now. I wish I could leave you something better than this, but I have no choice, the literal fate of a world is in this box.
Melodrama aside, I do wish the best for you. What you do with this gift is up to you. I hope you can forgive me.
With love,
Uncle Rob
P.S. you can trust Morgan, she can help you adjust.”
SKILLS… of course I knew what SKILLS were, who doesn't? The ability to crystalize and share abilities has been used for hundreds of years. Most SKILLS were passed down family lines, father to son, mother to daughter. I had even inherited a SKILL in woodworking from my maternal grandfather a few years before. But something seemed off about this. I mean, killing for SKILLS? Most SKILLS were available for purchase if you had enough money, what could possibly be worth murder?
If I thought my hands were shaking when I read the note, it was nothing to what they were doing as I picked up the box. It certainly didn't look special, plain dark wood with a simple metal latch. I took a moment to compose myself before flipping the latch and opening the box.
Inside was not what I expected. Most SKILLS are manifested as a two inch long crystal with swirling colored light that relates to the ability inside. The woodworking SKILL I got from my grandfather for example was a very pleasant brown light that swirled like flakes of glowing sawdust. This was different. Instead of the two or three crystals I expected, there was one six inch long four inch thick crystal with the brightest, most intense white light I had ever seen.
The significance of this is probably lost on you so I'll explain: each SKILL gives off one and only one color of light. Woodworking is brown, swimming might be blue, and camping might be green. If two SKILLS are put in one crystal then it will be a combination of the colors of those two SKILLS. For a crystal to glow this brightly and this white, there had to have been a lot of skills inside.
The only other SKILL crystal I had seen glow like this was from I video I saw in my history class; the king of some European monarchy passing the royal abilities on to his successor.
The crystal in this box was easily as bright or even brighter than that one.
So here I am, two weeks later, still sorting through my new abilities and the odd turn my life has taken. Maybe in the future I'll write something down about those two weeks. How I found Morgan, how she did indeed help me adjust, how I learned just what my Uncle did on all those international trips, the reason people would kill for the SKILLS I now possessed. Perhaps most importantly, what I could do to stop those people.
Speaking of which, I look down at my target again, he had finally made it to his limo, which is now pulling away from the club at which he had spent his last evening. I reach up and tap my earpiece
“Subdirector Williams is on the move, we are a go”
Morgan responds almost instantly “I have a visual, good luck hunter”
I grin and take a deep breath, reaching for the feeling of warmth and electricity in my chest as I throw myself off the roof. | The world was in panic. Liam Neeson was dead, and nobody knew what to do about it. Ricky Gervais had been the third person to attempt a eulogy, but just like the others, he had broken down into tears.
My poor, sweet uncle. His role in Schindler's List didn't even do a skerrick of justice to how much of a humanitarian and brilliant mind he was. And now he had been taken away from us, under mysterious circumstances, and we were beyond beside ourselves, as a collective. At least that was the one upside, an issue that the entire globe could get behind.
Well, through my tears I first glanced the box that I was to receive. It was ornate, and had my name carved into the top. I only cared about it several days later, when the grief had subsided somewhat and I was able to eat solid meals again.
I placed the box on my counter, and gingerly flicked the latch. As I opened it, there was the immediate stench of blood. My eyes absorbed the stained bowie knife, the walkie-talkie and the dozens of fake passports in my image. I knew what I had to do.
I tied a black bandana around my forehead, and front-flipped out of my window, ready to take on the baddies. | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | My father hardly ever spoke about Uncle Tommy, I guess it was just painful for him. They fought for the resistance, back when Brazil had conquered most of southern Mexico. American Special Forces came in specifically to train the rebels. All he ever said was, “Tommy was the best damn soldier I ever met.” They had a falling out just after the rebels and the Mexican Army pushed the Brazilians out of Villahermosa. They had to be rebuild the country to its former glory. The fighting was over, but Tommy had lost his home, wife, and three children. He had nothing left, so he went to find more war. There was always more war. That was almost 20 years ago. I always loved to hear the old war stories. They were the only time I got to hear about my and his exploits.
Yesterday a package came in the mail for me from “Thomas Gonzales”. I haven’t opened it yet. I know what is inside and to be honest I am afraid. This is the life and skills of a man whom I have never met. A man whom I hold in such high esteem and is the reason my father is alive. The reason I was able to be born. The man who was my father’s brother, and his savior. I fear that I will open this package and lose the heroic figure I have always revered. I fear that he will be human.
I shake the thoughts from my head and cut open the package. My father is sitting next to me, my mother across, and my little sister plays with her dolls. My hands shake as I pull open the box. Inside is an eyedropper and an envelope with “from Thomas” written on it. I open the envelop and pictures of my family through the last 18 years spill out. My mother and father at their wedding. My mother pregnant with me. Me learning to ride a bike. My little sister’s birth. The picture that stood out most was identical to a picture that my father carries around in his wallet. My father, uncle, two cousins, and my aunt laughing together in a living room. The living room I am sitting in right now. I pull a letter out of the envelop and begin read it aloud.
“Dear Angelica,
We have never met, so I want to start with an introduction. Hello Angelica. I am your uncle Thomas Gonzales, but everyone calls me Tommy. You may call me whatever you like. Your father and I did not part on the best of terms, but I owe him everything. Because of my own selfish desires, I left when he needed me the most (Rico, for that I am sorry). I am lucky that your father went through the effort of finding me and keeping me updated on the most recent events in your lives. He is the brother I have, but never truly deserved.
If you are reading this, it means I am dead. I have no children of my own, so I wish to pass my skills and experiences to you. I have lived a heavy life and I do not hand these over lightly. In fact it may be best that I let my skills die with me, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I wish to give you a fair warning and to urge you to throw the last of me down a drain and let it die. I have seen horrible things, had horrible things done to me, and done horrible things. I am the worst of humanity, but I also believe that I am the best.
I spent my life fighting for what I thought was right, and that is what I pass on to you. You will receive my past experiences, my senses of justice and duty, my black belt in Jiu-jitsu, and all of my training in the modern theatre of combat. You will also receive a memory of where I have stored all of equipment, to include my suit of XD5 power armor. My associates will contact you soon after you open the storage unit, if you open the storage unit.
I feel as though I should warn you again. For peace, I fought. For peace, I lived. For peace, I died. And even though I lived for peace, I am still a monster. I give you all that I have to pass on, because it is all I know. I lived a very hard life, but if you are anything like your father you will be strong enough to handle it.
Rico once told me, ‘As long as there are dark men in this world, other men will need to stand and become its light. The unfortunate truth however, is that no matter where good go they will always find bad men waiting.’ I know he adapted his words from a quote the Americans gave us, but it never made them any less true. I left my family, your family, to fight for peace. To keep death away from ever coming to them again. No matter what choice you make Angelica, you will always have my love.
From Tommy”
My little sister is too young to understand what I just read aloud, but the rest of my family is looking at me with a mix of fear and anger. Did my uncle realize what he was asking a 16 year old girl to do? I sit silently in though, no one says anything.
I realize that in my short 16 years on this planet, I have seen many injustices and had many done to me. I think of how I can no longer turn on the news without seeing headlines that steal my breath:
“Turkey massacres remnants of Chinese Government; Ignores cries of surrender”
“Tensions rise in Australia and separatist and loyalist come close to blows”
“Death squads in Los Angeles continue to slaughter protesters; Claim to be keeping the peace”
“Humanitarian aid team missing after attempt to search ruins of Moscow for survivors; origin of Nuclear Missiles still unknown.”
It sickens me. I know what I have to do.
“I need to think,” I lie as I throw everything back into the box and head to my room. I sit down and begin to write a letter to my little sister, telling her where I am going and why I have to go. I write a letter to my friends, telling them never to forget me. I write a letter to my parents, telling them I am sorry and not to blame Tommy. All of my letters make it clear, this is what I want to do. It is what I have to do. I pull the stopper on the eyedropper and let the liquid flow it into my eye.
I dream about the things my Uncle Tommy has done. I see bodies left to rot in the streets, friends gunned downed, the charred remains of children being clutched by their parents as though enough tears will bring them back to life. So much training. Always either fighting or training. So much evil in this world… No… Evil is relative. Evil is not real. I will become evil, but it will be for good.
Then a new dream comes. This one is so much worse than all the others. The air looks like it feels heavy, but I can’t feel the air. I am walking down a street but I cannot see very far. Smoke and ash linger in the air. I look to the stairs to my left. There is an outline of a small boy and a ball, but nothing is there. I scoff at it and bring myself back to scanning my surroundings. No time to marvel at the physics behind a bomb shadow. I travel another 100 feet before Anubis calls a halt. “My Geiger is going crazy, the XD5 can’t get us through this, let’s go another way.” I hear the familiar sound of rocket fire and everything goes black…
I wake up in my bed, sweating. I have just seen the last moments of my Uncle’s life. How do I know these tactics and names? It doesn’t make any sense, but I just know. I remember the headline on the news from a few weeks ago about humanitarian aid in Moscow. The abused masses revolted and the damn Rooskies nuked their own people. Rooskies? I don’t use that word. I’ve never heard it before in my life. This will take some getting used to.
I look at my clock. 1 A.M. is as good a time as any. I silently dress and sneak down the stairs. Our stairs have always been creaky, but I don’t make a single noise. It’s instinctive now I suppose. I stop before entering the living room. The lights are off but someone is definitely there. “Rico?” Rico? What the hell? I guess a lot more got passed down than I thought it would. “I mean, Dad? Why are you awake?”
“Your mother thinks you shouldn’t go, that it’s not your job. I know you Angel. I knew you would accept my brother’s skills. I am proud of you, and I love you” He whispers.
“Thanks dad. I love you too, please give these to everyone” I whisper as I walk to him and hand him my goodbye letters.
I head out the door and walk to the shipping container my Uncle prepared at the nearest warehouse. I input the combination and push open the door to see my new arsenal. A voice comes on a nearby radio:
“Hello Little Angel, this is Odin. I see you have activated your cell and I’m sending a chopper to your location. Please don the uniform in the crate below this radio and await your ride, call-sign Hermes. Your Uncle was Honos, for the Roman god of chivalry, honor, and military justice. What am I to call you?” He was speaking English. I never learned English but I could understand him just fine. More gifts from Tommy.
A smirk begins to form on my lips. “Odin. I will be the angel that leads the souls of viscous men into the fires of hell. You may call me…. Satan…”
| The world was in panic. Liam Neeson was dead, and nobody knew what to do about it. Ricky Gervais had been the third person to attempt a eulogy, but just like the others, he had broken down into tears.
My poor, sweet uncle. His role in Schindler's List didn't even do a skerrick of justice to how much of a humanitarian and brilliant mind he was. And now he had been taken away from us, under mysterious circumstances, and we were beyond beside ourselves, as a collective. At least that was the one upside, an issue that the entire globe could get behind.
Well, through my tears I first glanced the box that I was to receive. It was ornate, and had my name carved into the top. I only cared about it several days later, when the grief had subsided somewhat and I was able to eat solid meals again.
I placed the box on my counter, and gingerly flicked the latch. As I opened it, there was the immediate stench of blood. My eyes absorbed the stained bowie knife, the walkie-talkie and the dozens of fake passports in my image. I knew what I had to do.
I tied a black bandana around my forehead, and front-flipped out of my window, ready to take on the baddies. | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | The long blond hair flew behind him. He stood atop single jagged rock jutting out of the edge of the island's earth, hanging over the raging calm of the ocean. The dying ember's of a cigarette tip filled the air behind him with smoke as the ocean edge threw the winds inland. He stood straight, watching the sun edge the horizon, as if it had forgotten whether it was supposed to fall or rise at this time.
He took a puff.
The smoke filled his lungs. The cigarette, was of course, a distraction. He wasn't an addict, never had been. Yet, in these few times of indecision, he found that the taste of salty air and smoke to be somewhat comforting for reasons he himself could not explain. This was, needless to say, one of those moments.
He took a last puff of the cigarette, ashed it under his foot, and kicked the butt out to the water below. This freed up his hands in order to reach in his pockets and pull out the crumpled piece off paper. He must've read these words over a dozen times.
"My life's work, I trust with you. Use it well."
This paper, and a skill capsule were all that his uncle had left him. He'd found them waiting for him shortly after the funeral. He knew what it was. God's eye. The rarest of all skills. Ranked even above an ancient skill. This was the only known arcane skill in existence.
The trading of skills is a fairly hierarchic system. Most skills are of the mundane variety; woodworking, fishing, cooking. These are common class skills. Then as it gets a little more complex, with skills like electrical engineering, accounting and adeptness at professional sports, they become classified under rare. Although rare and common, being the most diverse classes, have their own subdivisions. The Library of Skills sets a standard that most people tend to agree with; even still, the classifications are not universally agreed upon. People tend to want skills they have to be considered higher quality thus increasing their status within society.
Yet, when it comes to what is considered anything above rare, 'ancient', there is pretty much a consensus. Ancient skills are practically revered within society. Possessing one meant fame and fortune simply with the implications it carried through status, irregardless of what the actual skill was. These skills tended to border on what some would call magic; the skill to use one's body as a nuclear power cell, or teleport through quantum entanglement. It really isn't magic, just so impractical and complex by normal methods that it kind of is.
Then there is this. God's eye, is what they call this skilled. The ability to tell the future, as his father had once explained to him what his uncle did. He had told him that it allowed one to perfectly understand every property of every particle, allowing one to understand the inevitable outcomes. That's what his uncle had just given him.
He stared at the only known arcane skill in existence. Power. Knowledge. Did he have the heart to deny the world of this. His uncle must've known. That's why he had given it to him. That perhaps his nephew was the only one crazy enough to not want it. Why? He asked himself as he dropped the capsule down into the ocean. Why would his uncle want it gone? He would never know.
Somethings you can only learn by looking into the eye of god, and as far this world was concerned, it wasn't going to for a long, long time.
| The world was in panic. Liam Neeson was dead, and nobody knew what to do about it. Ricky Gervais had been the third person to attempt a eulogy, but just like the others, he had broken down into tears.
My poor, sweet uncle. His role in Schindler's List didn't even do a skerrick of justice to how much of a humanitarian and brilliant mind he was. And now he had been taken away from us, under mysterious circumstances, and we were beyond beside ourselves, as a collective. At least that was the one upside, an issue that the entire globe could get behind.
Well, through my tears I first glanced the box that I was to receive. It was ornate, and had my name carved into the top. I only cared about it several days later, when the grief had subsided somewhat and I was able to eat solid meals again.
I placed the box on my counter, and gingerly flicked the latch. As I opened it, there was the immediate stench of blood. My eyes absorbed the stained bowie knife, the walkie-talkie and the dozens of fake passports in my image. I knew what I had to do.
I tied a black bandana around my forehead, and front-flipped out of my window, ready to take on the baddies. | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | The long blond hair flew behind him. He stood atop single jagged rock jutting out of the edge of the island's earth, hanging over the raging calm of the ocean. The dying ember's of a cigarette tip filled the air behind him with smoke as the ocean edge threw the winds inland. He stood straight, watching the sun edge the horizon, as if it had forgotten whether it was supposed to fall or rise at this time.
He took a puff.
The smoke filled his lungs. The cigarette, was of course, a distraction. He wasn't an addict, never had been. Yet, in these few times of indecision, he found that the taste of salty air and smoke to be somewhat comforting for reasons he himself could not explain. This was, needless to say, one of those moments.
He took a last puff of the cigarette, ashed it under his foot, and kicked the butt out to the water below. This freed up his hands in order to reach in his pockets and pull out the crumpled piece off paper. He must've read these words over a dozen times.
"My life's work, I trust with you. Use it well."
This paper, and a skill capsule were all that his uncle had left him. He'd found them waiting for him shortly after the funeral. He knew what it was. God's eye. The rarest of all skills. Ranked even above an ancient skill. This was the only known arcane skill in existence.
The trading of skills is a fairly hierarchic system. Most skills are of the mundane variety; woodworking, fishing, cooking. These are common class skills. Then as it gets a little more complex, with skills like electrical engineering, accounting and adeptness at professional sports, they become classified under rare. Although rare and common, being the most diverse classes, have their own subdivisions. The Library of Skills sets a standard that most people tend to agree with; even still, the classifications are not universally agreed upon. People tend to want skills they have to be considered higher quality thus increasing their status within society.
Yet, when it comes to what is considered anything above rare, 'ancient', there is pretty much a consensus. Ancient skills are practically revered within society. Possessing one meant fame and fortune simply with the implications it carried through status, irregardless of what the actual skill was. These skills tended to border on what some would call magic; the skill to use one's body as a nuclear power cell, or teleport through quantum entanglement. It really isn't magic, just so impractical and complex by normal methods that it kind of is.
Then there is this. God's eye, is what they call this skilled. The ability to tell the future, as his father had once explained to him what his uncle did. He had told him that it allowed one to perfectly understand every property of every particle, allowing one to understand the inevitable outcomes. That's what his uncle had just given him.
He stared at the only known arcane skill in existence. Power. Knowledge. Did he have the heart to deny the world of this. His uncle must've known. That's why he had given it to him. That perhaps his nephew was the only one crazy enough to not want it. Why? He asked himself as he dropped the capsule down into the ocean. Why would his uncle want it gone? He would never know.
Somethings you can only learn by looking into the eye of god, and as far this world was concerned, it wasn't going to for a long, long time.
| “My dear little Jack, I will be dead by the moment you read this, the box you have in your hands have all my skills, skills I’ve acquired over a very long career; those skills should be useful for you in ways can’t imagine because those skills are from a part of my life you don’t know. I should try to explain you what of skills I’m giving to you, but, that’s not fun at all, right? I’m going to let you discover all those skills, just open the box and let my gift be with you. I know you are going to use it in the best way possible because I know you are a good man; be brave little Jack and live your life loving and caring about the people who makes your life special.
Best wishes, Uncle Liam.”
| |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | The long blond hair flew behind him. He stood atop single jagged rock jutting out of the edge of the island's earth, hanging over the raging calm of the ocean. The dying ember's of a cigarette tip filled the air behind him with smoke as the ocean edge threw the winds inland. He stood straight, watching the sun edge the horizon, as if it had forgotten whether it was supposed to fall or rise at this time.
He took a puff.
The smoke filled his lungs. The cigarette, was of course, a distraction. He wasn't an addict, never had been. Yet, in these few times of indecision, he found that the taste of salty air and smoke to be somewhat comforting for reasons he himself could not explain. This was, needless to say, one of those moments.
He took a last puff of the cigarette, ashed it under his foot, and kicked the butt out to the water below. This freed up his hands in order to reach in his pockets and pull out the crumpled piece off paper. He must've read these words over a dozen times.
"My life's work, I trust with you. Use it well."
This paper, and a skill capsule were all that his uncle had left him. He'd found them waiting for him shortly after the funeral. He knew what it was. God's eye. The rarest of all skills. Ranked even above an ancient skill. This was the only known arcane skill in existence.
The trading of skills is a fairly hierarchic system. Most skills are of the mundane variety; woodworking, fishing, cooking. These are common class skills. Then as it gets a little more complex, with skills like electrical engineering, accounting and adeptness at professional sports, they become classified under rare. Although rare and common, being the most diverse classes, have their own subdivisions. The Library of Skills sets a standard that most people tend to agree with; even still, the classifications are not universally agreed upon. People tend to want skills they have to be considered higher quality thus increasing their status within society.
Yet, when it comes to what is considered anything above rare, 'ancient', there is pretty much a consensus. Ancient skills are practically revered within society. Possessing one meant fame and fortune simply with the implications it carried through status, irregardless of what the actual skill was. These skills tended to border on what some would call magic; the skill to use one's body as a nuclear power cell, or teleport through quantum entanglement. It really isn't magic, just so impractical and complex by normal methods that it kind of is.
Then there is this. God's eye, is what they call this skilled. The ability to tell the future, as his father had once explained to him what his uncle did. He had told him that it allowed one to perfectly understand every property of every particle, allowing one to understand the inevitable outcomes. That's what his uncle had just given him.
He stared at the only known arcane skill in existence. Power. Knowledge. Did he have the heart to deny the world of this. His uncle must've known. That's why he had given it to him. That perhaps his nephew was the only one crazy enough to not want it. Why? He asked himself as he dropped the capsule down into the ocean. Why would his uncle want it gone? He would never know.
Somethings you can only learn by looking into the eye of god, and as far this world was concerned, it wasn't going to for a long, long time.
| I haven't actually written anything before, so advice and constructive criticism would be appreciated,
It has been only two weeks since my life took a sharp left turn at weird. Wow, it's weird to think that it was only two weeks ago that I was a normal guy at college. That the biggest concerns I would have in my life were tests and girls. Now here I am, crouched on the roof of a skyscraper like freaking batman watching my mark make his tipsy way to his waiting limo.
It all started with my uncle’s death. We were pretty close. Or, well, as close as we could be what with him traveling all around the world for his work. Uncle Rob was always willing to listen to my teenager’s problems. He even answered my frantic two AM phone call when I slid off the road and couldn't reach my parents; within thirty minutes there was a tow truck pulling me out of the ditch. That wouldn't have been too strange if I hadn't been in the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm (I was on my way home for Christmas, not whatever it was you were thinking).
His death came as a shock to me. I mean, he was only 37 and in perfect health. I half expected him to live to be a hundred and fifty. But still, the news came that he had died in a car crash. The police said that alcohol was involved, but I couldn't believe that. Uncle Rob had sworn off alcohol before I was born, said it clouded his judgment too much.
Speaking of which, that man Down there is really drunk. It's honesty astonishing that he is still upright. Oop there he goes, he has fallen over and it looks like he is swearing at a nearby trashcan.
Anyway, that is all beside the point. The day after his funeral I got a box in the mail from him. I was understandably confused, I mean, it isn't every day that you get mail from a dead relative add to that the fact that it was post marked as having been sent the day he died, I was dying to know what his last words for me were. Inside was a note and a small wooden box, like the kind my mom keeps her jewlery in.
My hands were shaking as I unfolded the note:
“Steve,
If you are reading this then I am dead. There are many who would kill for what I am giving you, this is the only way I can think of to keep these SKILLS out of their hands. I am sorry, they will be coming for you now. I wish I could leave you something better than this, but I have no choice, the literal fate of a world is in this box.
Melodrama aside, I do wish the best for you. What you do with this gift is up to you. I hope you can forgive me.
With love,
Uncle Rob
P.S. you can trust Morgan, she can help you adjust.”
SKILLS… of course I knew what SKILLS were, who doesn't? The ability to crystalize and share abilities has been used for hundreds of years. Most SKILLS were passed down family lines, father to son, mother to daughter. I had even inherited a SKILL in woodworking from my maternal grandfather a few years before. But something seemed off about this. I mean, killing for SKILLS? Most SKILLS were available for purchase if you had enough money, what could possibly be worth murder?
If I thought my hands were shaking when I read the note, it was nothing to what they were doing as I picked up the box. It certainly didn't look special, plain dark wood with a simple metal latch. I took a moment to compose myself before flipping the latch and opening the box.
Inside was not what I expected. Most SKILLS are manifested as a two inch long crystal with swirling colored light that relates to the ability inside. The woodworking SKILL I got from my grandfather for example was a very pleasant brown light that swirled like flakes of glowing sawdust. This was different. Instead of the two or three crystals I expected, there was one six inch long four inch thick crystal with the brightest, most intense white light I had ever seen.
The significance of this is probably lost on you so I'll explain: each SKILL gives off one and only one color of light. Woodworking is brown, swimming might be blue, and camping might be green. If two SKILLS are put in one crystal then it will be a combination of the colors of those two SKILLS. For a crystal to glow this brightly and this white, there had to have been a lot of skills inside.
The only other SKILL crystal I had seen glow like this was from I video I saw in my history class; the king of some European monarchy passing the royal abilities on to his successor.
The crystal in this box was easily as bright or even brighter than that one.
So here I am, two weeks later, still sorting through my new abilities and the odd turn my life has taken. Maybe in the future I'll write something down about those two weeks. How I found Morgan, how she did indeed help me adjust, how I learned just what my Uncle did on all those international trips, the reason people would kill for the SKILLS I now possessed. Perhaps most importantly, what I could do to stop those people.
Speaking of which, I look down at my target again, he had finally made it to his limo, which is now pulling away from the club at which he had spent his last evening. I reach up and tap my earpiece
“Subdirector Williams is on the move, we are a go”
Morgan responds almost instantly “I have a visual, good luck hunter”
I grin and take a deep breath, reaching for the feeling of warmth and electricity in my chest as I throw myself off the roof. | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | It didn't happen often, most people didn't know you could do it. The few of us who did closely guarded the secret to our success. But this is where myths came from. Hercules, Thor, Gilgamesh, all gifted, bought, or stolen. I know of a man in America who has bought intelligence that has been around since Sumeria, maybe even the initial spark of civilization. He'll probably use it to build a big bomb or something, God knows we need it.
Fuck, it's cold out here, but the snow helps me hide. My skill isn't quite so old, I think it was initially David's. You know, the guy with the sling who fought the big guy? It's been worked on a bit though, Robin Hood, William Tell, Annie Oakley.
I hate sitting in the snow like this, but it helps me see better. The Nazis are stumbling through the pass, gotta pick out the officer. Look, see, that one there.
I don't use a scope, that's a different kind of skill, and I couldn't afford both. I'll just use the iron sights.
I'll make my money back after the war though. Someone will pay a lot of money to be the new White Death. | My dearest nephew,
It is with a heavy heart that I must leave this to you. Since the inception of our family we have always had one male heir who has had the responsibility of safeguarding and keeping these skills. These skills carry with them a heavy price, for once you take on these skills you will become instantly infertile. You will never be able to father a child, and will never know the joys of being a parent.
A note of caution, if you do not take on these skills by the age of 21, they will kill you before being lost to our family forever. If you have any children before you turn 21, they will be killed as soon as you take on these skills. You in turn must leave these skills to one of the male children of our family line, if you do not they will escape and destroy all of humanity.
These skills are the very essence of creation its self, they allow you to transform mater into any shape or object that you can think of. You can turn lead into gold, or coal into diamond. These skills can be used for good or for evil the choice is yours and yours alone.
Remember that for every action there is a price that must be paid. Every time that you use these skills 1000 people will die. If you use them for good, 1000 evil people will suddenly die. If you use them for evil 1000 good people will suddenly die. If you use them for something that is neither good nor evil, then 1000 mixed people will die.
These skills are now bound to you and can never be taken from you, and can only be gifted to another in your last year of life.
Best of luck and may good fortune shine upon you.
Regards Uncle Jack.
| |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | It didn't happen often, most people didn't know you could do it. The few of us who did closely guarded the secret to our success. But this is where myths came from. Hercules, Thor, Gilgamesh, all gifted, bought, or stolen. I know of a man in America who has bought intelligence that has been around since Sumeria, maybe even the initial spark of civilization. He'll probably use it to build a big bomb or something, God knows we need it.
Fuck, it's cold out here, but the snow helps me hide. My skill isn't quite so old, I think it was initially David's. You know, the guy with the sling who fought the big guy? It's been worked on a bit though, Robin Hood, William Tell, Annie Oakley.
I hate sitting in the snow like this, but it helps me see better. The Nazis are stumbling through the pass, gotta pick out the officer. Look, see, that one there.
I don't use a scope, that's a different kind of skill, and I couldn't afford both. I'll just use the iron sights.
I'll make my money back after the war though. Someone will pay a lot of money to be the new White Death. | 17.
The note was sloppy but the handwriting suggested urgency more than anything else. The ink dragged downward as if it was bleeding from the papers own gravity. I could only make out the word 'seventeen.'
Uncle Fred looked just fine the other day. He sat on the porch in radio silence. The usual. With the exception of a few grunts and coughs, the monotony was suffocating. And who could forget that signature Marlboro Gold smell.
At 5:30am he would wake up, fold his sheets and shortly after you could hear the zip zip zip of the lighter's roller sparking another day to life. His dedication was magnificent like clockwork. I suppose cigarettes to him were the punctuation marking moments throughout the day. That's what I tell myself anyhow. At the dinner table, in the car, even in the bedroom.
Then in a blink he was gone.
I woke up screaming again. The same recurring dream. The self-induced hysteria. Every fucking time. Uncle Fred said you can tell if you're dreaming by counting the number of fingers, spinning counter-clockwise or just looking at a clock. But none of those are true.
You can count all four fingers over and over again but it doesn't really matter. There's really no point in exercising futility. Some days I go to bed and wake up somewhere else but I know for a fact that that bed is my bed. You have to trust your gut.
But I guess anything is worth a shot. I spin opposite to the clock using my right hand to lead the motion.
I count sixteen. Really dizzy now - I add one more for Uncle Fred. Seventeen. Suddenly, something grabs my ankle. I notice that I'm screaming again. At the top of my lungs but it feels muted as if I'm just a stranger looking into the window of a noisy home.
Not really thinking, I run into Uncle Fred's room, grab his cigarettes and run out the door.
Jesus. What was that? | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | So, I must be dead. Good, I was a useless sack of puss anyway. The keys to the Porsche are over the passenger's side visor; Give those to your sister. Trust me, you don't want it. Thing was a money pit. I'm finding that one nice thing about being dead is I don't have to pay to keep that thing running anymore. Always look on the bright side.
The box, that's for you. Holy fucking shit don't open it! Did you open it yet? Close it. God damn. Ok, here's the rule. That box is TNT. I almost put someone's eye out with that thing. Just kidding. I caused Fukushima. Oh sure, mad skillz as the kids say, but you will crush a country if you don't read this fucking letter twice.
I'm sorry for the swearing. Hemmingway said it's the sign of a bad writer. He may or may not have said that - if he didn't, he should have. Anyway, fuck him, my only goal right now is for you to understand the gravity of the skillz in that box.
Another rule. Don't sell the box. Don't tell anyone about the box. Don't tell anyone that I told you not to tell anyone about the box. Here's the deal, pretend the box doesn't exist. You know what? Take the Porsche. You'll be much happier. Destroy the box, take the Porsche, and tell your sister I told her to go fuck herself. I mean, I liked her just fine, we just need a good cover story for why you get the Porsche and she gets nothing.
I know you're going to keep the box. I'm dead, I'm not stupid.
Just - here's the thing. When someone knocks on the door and asks about stray cats... or any kind of cats... tell them you don't know anything about them. Practice up on acting like you just woke up at the end of a 13 hour flight back from Amsterdam - that's what my uncle told me to do. And someday, you will tell that to your niece too. | 17.
The note was sloppy but the handwriting suggested urgency more than anything else. The ink dragged downward as if it was bleeding from the papers own gravity. I could only make out the word 'seventeen.'
Uncle Fred looked just fine the other day. He sat on the porch in radio silence. The usual. With the exception of a few grunts and coughs, the monotony was suffocating. And who could forget that signature Marlboro Gold smell.
At 5:30am he would wake up, fold his sheets and shortly after you could hear the zip zip zip of the lighter's roller sparking another day to life. His dedication was magnificent like clockwork. I suppose cigarettes to him were the punctuation marking moments throughout the day. That's what I tell myself anyhow. At the dinner table, in the car, even in the bedroom.
Then in a blink he was gone.
I woke up screaming again. The same recurring dream. The self-induced hysteria. Every fucking time. Uncle Fred said you can tell if you're dreaming by counting the number of fingers, spinning counter-clockwise or just looking at a clock. But none of those are true.
You can count all four fingers over and over again but it doesn't really matter. There's really no point in exercising futility. Some days I go to bed and wake up somewhere else but I know for a fact that that bed is my bed. You have to trust your gut.
But I guess anything is worth a shot. I spin opposite to the clock using my right hand to lead the motion.
I count sixteen. Really dizzy now - I add one more for Uncle Fred. Seventeen. Suddenly, something grabs my ankle. I notice that I'm screaming again. At the top of my lungs but it feels muted as if I'm just a stranger looking into the window of a noisy home.
Not really thinking, I run into Uncle Fred's room, grab his cigarettes and run out the door.
Jesus. What was that? | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | So, I must be dead. Good, I was a useless sack of puss anyway. The keys to the Porsche are over the passenger's side visor; Give those to your sister. Trust me, you don't want it. Thing was a money pit. I'm finding that one nice thing about being dead is I don't have to pay to keep that thing running anymore. Always look on the bright side.
The box, that's for you. Holy fucking shit don't open it! Did you open it yet? Close it. God damn. Ok, here's the rule. That box is TNT. I almost put someone's eye out with that thing. Just kidding. I caused Fukushima. Oh sure, mad skillz as the kids say, but you will crush a country if you don't read this fucking letter twice.
I'm sorry for the swearing. Hemmingway said it's the sign of a bad writer. He may or may not have said that - if he didn't, he should have. Anyway, fuck him, my only goal right now is for you to understand the gravity of the skillz in that box.
Another rule. Don't sell the box. Don't tell anyone about the box. Don't tell anyone that I told you not to tell anyone about the box. Here's the deal, pretend the box doesn't exist. You know what? Take the Porsche. You'll be much happier. Destroy the box, take the Porsche, and tell your sister I told her to go fuck herself. I mean, I liked her just fine, we just need a good cover story for why you get the Porsche and she gets nothing.
I know you're going to keep the box. I'm dead, I'm not stupid.
Just - here's the thing. When someone knocks on the door and asks about stray cats... or any kind of cats... tell them you don't know anything about them. Practice up on acting like you just woke up at the end of a 13 hour flight back from Amsterdam - that's what my uncle told me to do. And someday, you will tell that to your niece too. | Part 1
---
---
*crrreeeeeeaaaak*
The box opens. Inside is an old and yellowed price of paper,
"Maya,
I have been working my entire life to acquire these skills. Working as a CIA agent, a NASA employee, and a lot of buying ,trading, and selling. I give to you my intelligence. With it, you may find a way to survive. Your cousins wanted my intelligence so greedily, I'm leaving it up to you to protect it. They will be after you, so do what ever it takes to protect yourself. I gave your cousins my strength, agility, creativity, and healing. Prepare yourself.
Good luck,
Uncle Ben"
I lift up the note and see a single golden necklace with a large dull grey gem at the bottom. Another note in the middle of the necklace said,
*You know what to do.*
I put the necklace on and the gem starts filling with a crystal white, and I can almost hear my Uncle Ben's voice right there with me.
I don't feel much different, but I better start preparing now. Let's try and take down creativity first. | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | My uncle was always the black sheep of the family, despite his success. He only came around every other Christmas, and the occasional Thanksgiving. But each time we saw him, he had the most fantastic stories about traveling, fine dining, and meeting celebrities and heads of state from all around the world.
When I was 15, one of my friends ratted everyone out for drinking at a party. My uncle was the person I called, and he took care of everything. My parents never found out, I wasn't included in the police report, and even my friends pretended I wasn't with them that night. Naturally, I knew what my uncle's talent was. It was somehow supernatural. Something special. All the other Gifts that were passed down were delightfully mundane. He even got me into the college I wanted, and I assure you that I was woefully under-qualified.
When he died, I never expected to be the Bearer of his Gift. He had a daughter from a fling in college, but maybe he always wanted a son. Maybe the Gift only worked for guys?
It took almost a week to arrive, and I spent that time dreaming of how I can rule the world with his power. My power. I took the day off work to make sure I got the package when it arrived. I snatched it from the delivery driver, signed in a flurry, and ran inside.
The note was simple. "This is the gift that your father would not use. He has it too, but swore to take it to his grave. Said it was a crime against God. You know I've never been religious, and I think you're the same. Regardless, I've included my contact list, so you can continue my legacy. I haven't worked in years, but I did a thorough job of exerting my influence over the new up-and-comers in politics and business. Be aware, there are other supernatural gifts out there, but yours is special. Use it wisely, and make sure you have leverage on everyone. Have fun, and make sure you stretch before you get to work."
I seized the Gift, a foot long carved rod, and the spark rushed through me.
Everyone who becomes a Bearer is overwhelmed, but this gift truly wasn't what I expected. As my new skill washed over me, I slowly understood my uncle on a much deeper level. I had more respect for him than anyone I'd ever known. He'd used this Gift to become one of the most influential people in the world. Amazing.
Then I laughed. Harder than I've ever laughed in my whole life.
"So, this is what it's like to be a literally irresistible gay escort." | One day the serious man in the serious suits stood at my door handing me a box and a clipboard. "I am sorry to inform you that your uncle has passed away. He has stated in his will that his skills should be passed on to you. Please sign here."
Confused and sad I stood in my room staring at the box standing ominous on my table.
I don't know why he chose me to leave me his skill, but I am excited, nearly trembling with anticipation. I never knew what it was exactly my uncle did, but I remember vividly how he told me about the adventures he had in far away countries.
And now I am standing here before his heritage. What kind of skillset might he posses after all these years of travel and countless heroics. Was he a military man, fighting for freedom and justice; or some kind of spy, masquerading as all kinds of people. Many and more possibilities flashed through my mind, one more ludicrous than the other. Other than his stories I really didn't know how my late uncle earned his money.
I miss the old traveler, sometimes he just showed up on our doorstep, staying for a few days and vanishing again to who knows where.
I take a deep breath before I open the box in front of me.
He left me only one skill, but this one skill was honed to perfection. After it latched on to me, and a moment of nausea later, I picked up my phone and quit my job. Half an hour later I stood in the door with a packed suitcase and a taxi waiting outside. On the table I left a thick wad of papers for my brother.
At the airport I took a seat in the next available flight to wherever.
On the flight I just wrote him to sell my flat and all the accumulated belongings, he didn't want to keep for himself.
The skill my uncle left me was to not give a fuck. And I was on the way to start living for myself.
I was | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | I hadn't been particularly close to my uncle, so I was surprised to hear at the funeral that he had left something for me. I didn't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't that box.
I picked it up on Saturday, feeling weird about seeing my aunt trying so hard to smile at me, to pretend she was fine and that she could move on with her life. I told her I had to work in the afternoon just so I could leave, and perhaps I should have felt bad about it, but I'm not very good at comforting a widow.
I took the box to my car and placed it in the passenger seat.
The heavy wooden box had a post it stuck on its lid:
FOR WINSTON
Don't use them
I frowned, tempted to open the box and check its contents, but I saw my aunt peeking through the blinds. I raised my hand at her and smiled, and drove away.
By the time I got home, most of my curiosity had evaporated. I was looking forward to taking a nap and spend all Saturday playing video games and then picking Samantha up from work to go get some dinner. I almost left the box in the car, but I brought it with me. I shouldn't have done that.
I threw it in the couch and the lid opened. It smelled weird, so I signed and walked towards the couch: a piece of folded piece of paper obscured the contents. I sat down and read the message.
Winston
I'm sorry I'm leaving this to you, but I couldn't really trust anyone else with it. Please just sell them. Thomas, an old acquaintance, will contact you in a few weeks when he realizes I'm gone. He's weird but he'll pay well.
I hope you can do something with the money, enjoy yourself.
Uncle Paul
I left the letter on the coffee table and grabbed the box, placing it on my lap. It felt heavy, and it seemed like I couldn't see the bottom even if the paper wasn't there blocking the view anymore.
Reaching down, I pulled some zip ties. I started putting everything on the table: zip ties, a small hammer, rope, a sharp knife that almost nicked my finger. My heart was beating violently in my chest as I pulled a plastic bag. I realized what the smell was as soon as I opened it: old blood, which stained several items inside a bag.
Strands of long hair, blond and brunette. A handkerchief stained with blood, panties with the name Stacy McCall written on them, a front tooth, a lady named Angela Hammond's ID...
I didn't feel comfortable checking the rest of the bag, but there were three vials in the bottom of the box. Skills, I could immediately tell it was skills. The vials didn't have labels on them, but the skills inside were thick (which made them extremely high quality) and dark.
I knew what dark skills meant. And I had my suspicions about what was in the bag.
I opened one of the vials. It smelled sweet and enticing, and I know I shouldn't have... But I drank it. I thought I could always put it back, sell it to that guy later in the week.
But I was too good, like uncle Paul. And Missouri needed another killer. | "Holy shit a magic skill!?!"
I never really knew my uncle. He seemed pretty cool. He had this huge "supernatural" foundation that everyone thought was bullshit. Only supernatural thing i knew about was telekinesis. My cousin, Kenneth, had telekinetic powers, he could move around small objects. But this was different.
In the box were many different bags filled wit snack cracker-like goodies. There were your normal ones: knowledge + 20, wisdom + 10, strength + 50 and even a pretty rare appeal + 100 (enough for you to get anybody of the opposite sex), but then there was the big one, magic + 1,000,000.
Last i checked, Cousin Kenneth had magic 500, so i was shocked that magic 1,000,000 was even possible. Level 1,000,000 skills were already god tier skills, the kind that you get from 10 years of meditation in nepal or being an hero.
I was pretty scared of what would happen if i activated the 1,000,000 skill pack first, so i started to nibble on the appeal + 100. As i finished the first half my sister's friend passed by and tried to communicate with me through a series of blushes, giggles and occasional words.
I devoured the rest and finally got the courage to open the magic pack. As soon as i put it in my mouth i felt mystical power flow through my body. It was an undescribable feeling. This feeling terrified me so i shoved it down my throat to try and get it over with as fast as possible.
if you dont inheret the skills given to you as gifts it is considered rude and bad luck, no matter how bad the skill is, so i was trying to down that cracker before i vommited.
I woke up, the magic 1,000,000 wrapper on my lap. I had forgotten to clean up my room like i was supposed to after uncle mob's funeral, so i thought i might just get to work. All of a sudden, all of my clothes folded themselves and placed themselves where i had imagened them going. My garbage can made a beeline out the window to the dump, and my bed almost popped into perfect condition.
After a few moments of freaking the shit out while my things mimiked my thoughts, I suddenly remembered that i had indeed possessed a level magic 1,000,000 skill. I looked at the back of the wrapper, there was a note, seemingly from my unlce that read:
"Hello op! By the time you recieve this i'll probably be dead. Whatever, now its time that you inherit the family secret. Our family descends from a long line of espers, destined to stop all supernatural threats. Lucky for you though, I killed everyone that could threaten the world. But there is one thing i task you with. Find the stone mask. It is a mask that, on contact with blood, will turn anyone wearing it into a vampire. I spent my life searching for it, but i couldnt find it. It is your duty to find and destroy the abomination. Do this, and all the riches of the speedwagon foundation are yours. - Uncle Mob"
After getting things straight, i walked downstairs to get some milk and contemplate the situation. Milk always helped me think. I got to the kitchen ant the milk poured itself when i reached out to the refridgerator. After a good hour of straight up thought, and my sister's friend trying to get my attention through her now more sophisticated methods of blushing and guesturing, i had made the descision: i will find the mask as soon as i can, but for now, lets try this magic shit out!
If youve made it this far please give me feedback or ask ne to continue. I hope this is good!
| |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | They were unmarked.
It must be the biggest faux pas ever to give someone unmarked pins. Doesn’t matter if you have told them exactly what was on them, which of course my uncle Jack, being dead, hadn’t. You just didn’t give anyone pins without clearly marking them. It could be anything really, a mind virus, set to wipe out my brain when I plugged it in behind my ear. Could be petabytes of porn memories passed down through generations, copied, expanded, letting me be in the moment of millions of the hottest things ever. Shoving a blank pin in your port was Russian roulette… yet people did it all the time.
It all came down to how much you trusted the source after all, and trust is malleable, flexible, emotional. We trust our lover, maybe after a few years, maybe after a few moments, but we trust. So we take the pin, we plug it in, and we never remember the horror stories. The broken minds. The dead. The corrupted consciousnesses of those unlucky, those who trusted the wrong person. You hear about them on the news now and then, it scares people… nobody would never trust an unmarked pin from a stranger.
But I trusted Jack. He’d been a quiet man, but a good man. He had helped out here and there with money, always been around with support, always had a good word when needed and took a firm stance against those that acted badly. Or well, that’s what I had learned anyways, from various family gatherings and the occasional run-in when he was visiting my parents.
My dad knew of the inheritance of course, but didn’t know what was in it. He was there when the drone came with it. Not the regular little delivery drones, but one of those official ones with the protection drones at its side. I had to verify my identity with ID and three types of bio before I could have it. It was hard to get a clear retinal scan because I was tearing up, remembering Jack’s death last month.
I didn’t know him that well, but he was family.
I had to trust him, didn’t I?
Yet I didn’t make a rash decision. I anguished over it all day, most of the night. I discussed it with dad, eventually, at four in the morning. He just nodded slowly over his glass of brown.
“Do you know what Jack did with his time?” he asked, swirling the alcohol in the glass and sipping it thoughtfully. I furrowed my brow, sure that I must have picked this up somewhere. Wasn’t it the first thing everyone asked everyone? It always came up. We all did something with our time, be it learning or crafting or travelling or art of some form. I was only 16 so I couldn’t legally travel further than global yet, but I had been pretty much everywhere, and had picked up millions of skills, copied freely from others. I felt like I knew how to do everything in the world, but then we were always held back a bit by that fleshy brain of ours, and the emotional component in particular.
I shook my head, and dad nodded sagely, and a table floated into reach for him to put his drink down on. He got up and went over to the kitchen rep and tapped in his code. Another glass of brown appeared and he handed it to me.
I stared at it as he sat down and picked up his glass again, the table zooming out of view. “My brother was… special. He was curious, like you. Always looking beyond. Beyond our globe, beyond our system, beyond the cluster. Beyond our reality even. But when he got older, there was one beyond that got him more curious than everything else.”
I copied the motions he did with his drink, swirling it carefully in the glass, sipping it… and making a face at the burning sensation. Dad pretended not to see it.
“Jack wasn’t satisfied with the skills we have already. Over the millennia since we started being able to extract and copy and import data straight to our brains every human skill is now available to every human. If it wasn’t for the somewhat limited capacity of our brains and the incompatibilities between certain skillsets every human alive would know every skill ever invented.”
I listened transfixed. This was common knowledge, of course, although it wasn’t the sort of thing ever really discussed. It just was. As obvious and mundane to us as the yearly gene tweak appointments while we were growing up.
“Jack went beyond skills. He collected a very specific sort of skills… and I believe those may be what he left you. The lack of marking isn’t for any nefarious purposes, it’s just that the marking system doesn’t have the words to describe what’s in there.”
I was in the middle of another sip and coughed suddenly. “But… how could that be? Surely there are words for every human skill available, or even inventible ones could be described…?”
“Yes,” dad said, and downed the last of his brown in a big swig.
“Every *human* skill.”
| "Holy shit a magic skill!?!"
I never really knew my uncle. He seemed pretty cool. He had this huge "supernatural" foundation that everyone thought was bullshit. Only supernatural thing i knew about was telekinesis. My cousin, Kenneth, had telekinetic powers, he could move around small objects. But this was different.
In the box were many different bags filled wit snack cracker-like goodies. There were your normal ones: knowledge + 20, wisdom + 10, strength + 50 and even a pretty rare appeal + 100 (enough for you to get anybody of the opposite sex), but then there was the big one, magic + 1,000,000.
Last i checked, Cousin Kenneth had magic 500, so i was shocked that magic 1,000,000 was even possible. Level 1,000,000 skills were already god tier skills, the kind that you get from 10 years of meditation in nepal or being an hero.
I was pretty scared of what would happen if i activated the 1,000,000 skill pack first, so i started to nibble on the appeal + 100. As i finished the first half my sister's friend passed by and tried to communicate with me through a series of blushes, giggles and occasional words.
I devoured the rest and finally got the courage to open the magic pack. As soon as i put it in my mouth i felt mystical power flow through my body. It was an undescribable feeling. This feeling terrified me so i shoved it down my throat to try and get it over with as fast as possible.
if you dont inheret the skills given to you as gifts it is considered rude and bad luck, no matter how bad the skill is, so i was trying to down that cracker before i vommited.
I woke up, the magic 1,000,000 wrapper on my lap. I had forgotten to clean up my room like i was supposed to after uncle mob's funeral, so i thought i might just get to work. All of a sudden, all of my clothes folded themselves and placed themselves where i had imagened them going. My garbage can made a beeline out the window to the dump, and my bed almost popped into perfect condition.
After a few moments of freaking the shit out while my things mimiked my thoughts, I suddenly remembered that i had indeed possessed a level magic 1,000,000 skill. I looked at the back of the wrapper, there was a note, seemingly from my unlce that read:
"Hello op! By the time you recieve this i'll probably be dead. Whatever, now its time that you inherit the family secret. Our family descends from a long line of espers, destined to stop all supernatural threats. Lucky for you though, I killed everyone that could threaten the world. But there is one thing i task you with. Find the stone mask. It is a mask that, on contact with blood, will turn anyone wearing it into a vampire. I spent my life searching for it, but i couldnt find it. It is your duty to find and destroy the abomination. Do this, and all the riches of the speedwagon foundation are yours. - Uncle Mob"
After getting things straight, i walked downstairs to get some milk and contemplate the situation. Milk always helped me think. I got to the kitchen ant the milk poured itself when i reached out to the refridgerator. After a good hour of straight up thought, and my sister's friend trying to get my attention through her now more sophisticated methods of blushing and guesturing, i had made the descision: i will find the mask as soon as i can, but for now, lets try this magic shit out!
If youve made it this far please give me feedback or ask ne to continue. I hope this is good!
| |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | I hadn't been particularly close to my uncle, so I was surprised to hear at the funeral that he had left something for me. I didn't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't that box.
I picked it up on Saturday, feeling weird about seeing my aunt trying so hard to smile at me, to pretend she was fine and that she could move on with her life. I told her I had to work in the afternoon just so I could leave, and perhaps I should have felt bad about it, but I'm not very good at comforting a widow.
I took the box to my car and placed it in the passenger seat.
The heavy wooden box had a post it stuck on its lid:
FOR WINSTON
Don't use them
I frowned, tempted to open the box and check its contents, but I saw my aunt peeking through the blinds. I raised my hand at her and smiled, and drove away.
By the time I got home, most of my curiosity had evaporated. I was looking forward to taking a nap and spend all Saturday playing video games and then picking Samantha up from work to go get some dinner. I almost left the box in the car, but I brought it with me. I shouldn't have done that.
I threw it in the couch and the lid opened. It smelled weird, so I signed and walked towards the couch: a piece of folded piece of paper obscured the contents. I sat down and read the message.
Winston
I'm sorry I'm leaving this to you, but I couldn't really trust anyone else with it. Please just sell them. Thomas, an old acquaintance, will contact you in a few weeks when he realizes I'm gone. He's weird but he'll pay well.
I hope you can do something with the money, enjoy yourself.
Uncle Paul
I left the letter on the coffee table and grabbed the box, placing it on my lap. It felt heavy, and it seemed like I couldn't see the bottom even if the paper wasn't there blocking the view anymore.
Reaching down, I pulled some zip ties. I started putting everything on the table: zip ties, a small hammer, rope, a sharp knife that almost nicked my finger. My heart was beating violently in my chest as I pulled a plastic bag. I realized what the smell was as soon as I opened it: old blood, which stained several items inside a bag.
Strands of long hair, blond and brunette. A handkerchief stained with blood, panties with the name Stacy McCall written on them, a front tooth, a lady named Angela Hammond's ID...
I didn't feel comfortable checking the rest of the bag, but there were three vials in the bottom of the box. Skills, I could immediately tell it was skills. The vials didn't have labels on them, but the skills inside were thick (which made them extremely high quality) and dark.
I knew what dark skills meant. And I had my suspicions about what was in the bag.
I opened one of the vials. It smelled sweet and enticing, and I know I shouldn't have... But I drank it. I thought I could always put it back, sell it to that guy later in the week.
But I was too good, like uncle Paul. And Missouri needed another killer. | I slid open the door and crawled out of the glass box carefully without a sound, taking care to land softly on the opposite foot.
Tiptoeing down the stairs, I threw the rope around final bannister and made great effort to pull myself towards it without tripping the alarms.
With a great sense of triumph, I sprang victoriously into the hallway and slammed straight into a glass wall. A single tear traced down to my cheek, and I turned to my audience broken and defeated.
"Fuck sake, honey. He's doing that stripey-French shit again." | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | They were unmarked.
It must be the biggest faux pas ever to give someone unmarked pins. Doesn’t matter if you have told them exactly what was on them, which of course my uncle Jack, being dead, hadn’t. You just didn’t give anyone pins without clearly marking them. It could be anything really, a mind virus, set to wipe out my brain when I plugged it in behind my ear. Could be petabytes of porn memories passed down through generations, copied, expanded, letting me be in the moment of millions of the hottest things ever. Shoving a blank pin in your port was Russian roulette… yet people did it all the time.
It all came down to how much you trusted the source after all, and trust is malleable, flexible, emotional. We trust our lover, maybe after a few years, maybe after a few moments, but we trust. So we take the pin, we plug it in, and we never remember the horror stories. The broken minds. The dead. The corrupted consciousnesses of those unlucky, those who trusted the wrong person. You hear about them on the news now and then, it scares people… nobody would never trust an unmarked pin from a stranger.
But I trusted Jack. He’d been a quiet man, but a good man. He had helped out here and there with money, always been around with support, always had a good word when needed and took a firm stance against those that acted badly. Or well, that’s what I had learned anyways, from various family gatherings and the occasional run-in when he was visiting my parents.
My dad knew of the inheritance of course, but didn’t know what was in it. He was there when the drone came with it. Not the regular little delivery drones, but one of those official ones with the protection drones at its side. I had to verify my identity with ID and three types of bio before I could have it. It was hard to get a clear retinal scan because I was tearing up, remembering Jack’s death last month.
I didn’t know him that well, but he was family.
I had to trust him, didn’t I?
Yet I didn’t make a rash decision. I anguished over it all day, most of the night. I discussed it with dad, eventually, at four in the morning. He just nodded slowly over his glass of brown.
“Do you know what Jack did with his time?” he asked, swirling the alcohol in the glass and sipping it thoughtfully. I furrowed my brow, sure that I must have picked this up somewhere. Wasn’t it the first thing everyone asked everyone? It always came up. We all did something with our time, be it learning or crafting or travelling or art of some form. I was only 16 so I couldn’t legally travel further than global yet, but I had been pretty much everywhere, and had picked up millions of skills, copied freely from others. I felt like I knew how to do everything in the world, but then we were always held back a bit by that fleshy brain of ours, and the emotional component in particular.
I shook my head, and dad nodded sagely, and a table floated into reach for him to put his drink down on. He got up and went over to the kitchen rep and tapped in his code. Another glass of brown appeared and he handed it to me.
I stared at it as he sat down and picked up his glass again, the table zooming out of view. “My brother was… special. He was curious, like you. Always looking beyond. Beyond our globe, beyond our system, beyond the cluster. Beyond our reality even. But when he got older, there was one beyond that got him more curious than everything else.”
I copied the motions he did with his drink, swirling it carefully in the glass, sipping it… and making a face at the burning sensation. Dad pretended not to see it.
“Jack wasn’t satisfied with the skills we have already. Over the millennia since we started being able to extract and copy and import data straight to our brains every human skill is now available to every human. If it wasn’t for the somewhat limited capacity of our brains and the incompatibilities between certain skillsets every human alive would know every skill ever invented.”
I listened transfixed. This was common knowledge, of course, although it wasn’t the sort of thing ever really discussed. It just was. As obvious and mundane to us as the yearly gene tweak appointments while we were growing up.
“Jack went beyond skills. He collected a very specific sort of skills… and I believe those may be what he left you. The lack of marking isn’t for any nefarious purposes, it’s just that the marking system doesn’t have the words to describe what’s in there.”
I was in the middle of another sip and coughed suddenly. “But… how could that be? Surely there are words for every human skill available, or even inventible ones could be described…?”
“Yes,” dad said, and downed the last of his brown in a big swig.
“Every *human* skill.”
| I slid open the door and crawled out of the glass box carefully without a sound, taking care to land softly on the opposite foot.
Tiptoeing down the stairs, I threw the rope around final bannister and made great effort to pull myself towards it without tripping the alarms.
With a great sense of triumph, I sprang victoriously into the hallway and slammed straight into a glass wall. A single tear traced down to my cheek, and I turned to my audience broken and defeated.
"Fuck sake, honey. He's doing that stripey-French shit again." | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | "To my dearest Isabella,
My family's history is complicated, to say the least. Your uncle Alfred isn't quite the playful old man I wished to be. When I was close to your age, I was given the same task that I must now pass to you.
A few hundred years ago, our story started. Man decided to become God, and we all know how well stories with that premise tend to go. He used his great wealth to buy his way into extraordinary abilities. They say his archery was unsurpassed, his strength immeasurable, his wisdom astounding. Unfortunately for him, no amount of money can buy your way into a longer life. He was a smart man, enough so to know that he couldn't live forever. So he decided to become immortal in a slightly less literal way. He wanted to pass his incredible skills to the heir most deserving. But the man didn't account for his most mortal trait: Love. He loved two of his children equally, and couldn't choose which should be granted his power. With great difficulty and consideration, he gifted each of his children a portion of his skills, that they might each continue his path to some extent through their own specialties.
One line was granted the physical manifestations of the man's power. They were strong, accurate, agile, and exceedingly healthy.
The second obtained the man's glorious mind. Blinding intellect, the wisdom of elders, and the quick thinking brain to carry through.
The third line, from which I descended, were given skills that the man considered weak. We were given his fears, his doubts, and the empathetic love that caused his indecision. He believed such things dragged him down, but we alone had the distrust and suspicions to know what would happen next. My great grandfather took away into the night to go into hiding.
The first generation of brothers grew up close enough together that they respected their fragmented portion of their father's gifts. In the second generation, the siblings stopped talking to each other, their mutual distaste for the others almost palpable. By the third, one had started hunting the others to reclaim those gifts he saw as his. Over the years, a few were killed in battle. Some gifts were dragged from bloody corpses, but others had already been given to closely trusted sons or daughters so that their gifts might yet live on.
I tell you all this so that you know the tasks that lie ahead. I never got around to having children of my own, so in these dark times my gifts go to you. Our family's war has become violent even by our past standards. Your distant cousins battle among themselves to emerge with inhuman power. A few hundred years ago, our line would be ignored. However, with time passed and stories mangled, they have come to believe that we have our own fair share of immense power, perhaps even more than them. You will be hunted, and your life is on the line.
Learn to use these skills quickly. If you are not adamant in your struggle, they will find you, and they will kill you.
Godspeed, Isabella. May my skills give you what you need to survive."
-Uncle Freddie. | I slid open the door and crawled out of the glass box carefully without a sound, taking care to land softly on the opposite foot.
Tiptoeing down the stairs, I threw the rope around final bannister and made great effort to pull myself towards it without tripping the alarms.
With a great sense of triumph, I sprang victoriously into the hallway and slammed straight into a glass wall. A single tear traced down to my cheek, and I turned to my audience broken and defeated.
"Fuck sake, honey. He's doing that stripey-French shit again." | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | They were unmarked.
It must be the biggest faux pas ever to give someone unmarked pins. Doesn’t matter if you have told them exactly what was on them, which of course my uncle Jack, being dead, hadn’t. You just didn’t give anyone pins without clearly marking them. It could be anything really, a mind virus, set to wipe out my brain when I plugged it in behind my ear. Could be petabytes of porn memories passed down through generations, copied, expanded, letting me be in the moment of millions of the hottest things ever. Shoving a blank pin in your port was Russian roulette… yet people did it all the time.
It all came down to how much you trusted the source after all, and trust is malleable, flexible, emotional. We trust our lover, maybe after a few years, maybe after a few moments, but we trust. So we take the pin, we plug it in, and we never remember the horror stories. The broken minds. The dead. The corrupted consciousnesses of those unlucky, those who trusted the wrong person. You hear about them on the news now and then, it scares people… nobody would never trust an unmarked pin from a stranger.
But I trusted Jack. He’d been a quiet man, but a good man. He had helped out here and there with money, always been around with support, always had a good word when needed and took a firm stance against those that acted badly. Or well, that’s what I had learned anyways, from various family gatherings and the occasional run-in when he was visiting my parents.
My dad knew of the inheritance of course, but didn’t know what was in it. He was there when the drone came with it. Not the regular little delivery drones, but one of those official ones with the protection drones at its side. I had to verify my identity with ID and three types of bio before I could have it. It was hard to get a clear retinal scan because I was tearing up, remembering Jack’s death last month.
I didn’t know him that well, but he was family.
I had to trust him, didn’t I?
Yet I didn’t make a rash decision. I anguished over it all day, most of the night. I discussed it with dad, eventually, at four in the morning. He just nodded slowly over his glass of brown.
“Do you know what Jack did with his time?” he asked, swirling the alcohol in the glass and sipping it thoughtfully. I furrowed my brow, sure that I must have picked this up somewhere. Wasn’t it the first thing everyone asked everyone? It always came up. We all did something with our time, be it learning or crafting or travelling or art of some form. I was only 16 so I couldn’t legally travel further than global yet, but I had been pretty much everywhere, and had picked up millions of skills, copied freely from others. I felt like I knew how to do everything in the world, but then we were always held back a bit by that fleshy brain of ours, and the emotional component in particular.
I shook my head, and dad nodded sagely, and a table floated into reach for him to put his drink down on. He got up and went over to the kitchen rep and tapped in his code. Another glass of brown appeared and he handed it to me.
I stared at it as he sat down and picked up his glass again, the table zooming out of view. “My brother was… special. He was curious, like you. Always looking beyond. Beyond our globe, beyond our system, beyond the cluster. Beyond our reality even. But when he got older, there was one beyond that got him more curious than everything else.”
I copied the motions he did with his drink, swirling it carefully in the glass, sipping it… and making a face at the burning sensation. Dad pretended not to see it.
“Jack wasn’t satisfied with the skills we have already. Over the millennia since we started being able to extract and copy and import data straight to our brains every human skill is now available to every human. If it wasn’t for the somewhat limited capacity of our brains and the incompatibilities between certain skillsets every human alive would know every skill ever invented.”
I listened transfixed. This was common knowledge, of course, although it wasn’t the sort of thing ever really discussed. It just was. As obvious and mundane to us as the yearly gene tweak appointments while we were growing up.
“Jack went beyond skills. He collected a very specific sort of skills… and I believe those may be what he left you. The lack of marking isn’t for any nefarious purposes, it’s just that the marking system doesn’t have the words to describe what’s in there.”
I was in the middle of another sip and coughed suddenly. “But… how could that be? Surely there are words for every human skill available, or even inventible ones could be described…?”
“Yes,” dad said, and downed the last of his brown in a big swig.
“Every *human* skill.”
| I hadn't been particularly close to my uncle, so I was surprised to hear at the funeral that he had left something for me. I didn't know what I expected, but it definitely wasn't that box.
I picked it up on Saturday, feeling weird about seeing my aunt trying so hard to smile at me, to pretend she was fine and that she could move on with her life. I told her I had to work in the afternoon just so I could leave, and perhaps I should have felt bad about it, but I'm not very good at comforting a widow.
I took the box to my car and placed it in the passenger seat.
The heavy wooden box had a post it stuck on its lid:
FOR WINSTON
Don't use them
I frowned, tempted to open the box and check its contents, but I saw my aunt peeking through the blinds. I raised my hand at her and smiled, and drove away.
By the time I got home, most of my curiosity had evaporated. I was looking forward to taking a nap and spend all Saturday playing video games and then picking Samantha up from work to go get some dinner. I almost left the box in the car, but I brought it with me. I shouldn't have done that.
I threw it in the couch and the lid opened. It smelled weird, so I signed and walked towards the couch: a piece of folded piece of paper obscured the contents. I sat down and read the message.
Winston
I'm sorry I'm leaving this to you, but I couldn't really trust anyone else with it. Please just sell them. Thomas, an old acquaintance, will contact you in a few weeks when he realizes I'm gone. He's weird but he'll pay well.
I hope you can do something with the money, enjoy yourself.
Uncle Paul
I left the letter on the coffee table and grabbed the box, placing it on my lap. It felt heavy, and it seemed like I couldn't see the bottom even if the paper wasn't there blocking the view anymore.
Reaching down, I pulled some zip ties. I started putting everything on the table: zip ties, a small hammer, rope, a sharp knife that almost nicked my finger. My heart was beating violently in my chest as I pulled a plastic bag. I realized what the smell was as soon as I opened it: old blood, which stained several items inside a bag.
Strands of long hair, blond and brunette. A handkerchief stained with blood, panties with the name Stacy McCall written on them, a front tooth, a lady named Angela Hammond's ID...
I didn't feel comfortable checking the rest of the bag, but there were three vials in the bottom of the box. Skills, I could immediately tell it was skills. The vials didn't have labels on them, but the skills inside were thick (which made them extremely high quality) and dark.
I knew what dark skills meant. And I had my suspicions about what was in the bag.
I opened one of the vials. It smelled sweet and enticing, and I know I shouldn't have... But I drank it. I thought I could always put it back, sell it to that guy later in the week.
But I was too good, like uncle Paul. And Missouri needed another killer. | |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | They were unmarked.
It must be the biggest faux pas ever to give someone unmarked pins. Doesn’t matter if you have told them exactly what was on them, which of course my uncle Jack, being dead, hadn’t. You just didn’t give anyone pins without clearly marking them. It could be anything really, a mind virus, set to wipe out my brain when I plugged it in behind my ear. Could be petabytes of porn memories passed down through generations, copied, expanded, letting me be in the moment of millions of the hottest things ever. Shoving a blank pin in your port was Russian roulette… yet people did it all the time.
It all came down to how much you trusted the source after all, and trust is malleable, flexible, emotional. We trust our lover, maybe after a few years, maybe after a few moments, but we trust. So we take the pin, we plug it in, and we never remember the horror stories. The broken minds. The dead. The corrupted consciousnesses of those unlucky, those who trusted the wrong person. You hear about them on the news now and then, it scares people… nobody would never trust an unmarked pin from a stranger.
But I trusted Jack. He’d been a quiet man, but a good man. He had helped out here and there with money, always been around with support, always had a good word when needed and took a firm stance against those that acted badly. Or well, that’s what I had learned anyways, from various family gatherings and the occasional run-in when he was visiting my parents.
My dad knew of the inheritance of course, but didn’t know what was in it. He was there when the drone came with it. Not the regular little delivery drones, but one of those official ones with the protection drones at its side. I had to verify my identity with ID and three types of bio before I could have it. It was hard to get a clear retinal scan because I was tearing up, remembering Jack’s death last month.
I didn’t know him that well, but he was family.
I had to trust him, didn’t I?
Yet I didn’t make a rash decision. I anguished over it all day, most of the night. I discussed it with dad, eventually, at four in the morning. He just nodded slowly over his glass of brown.
“Do you know what Jack did with his time?” he asked, swirling the alcohol in the glass and sipping it thoughtfully. I furrowed my brow, sure that I must have picked this up somewhere. Wasn’t it the first thing everyone asked everyone? It always came up. We all did something with our time, be it learning or crafting or travelling or art of some form. I was only 16 so I couldn’t legally travel further than global yet, but I had been pretty much everywhere, and had picked up millions of skills, copied freely from others. I felt like I knew how to do everything in the world, but then we were always held back a bit by that fleshy brain of ours, and the emotional component in particular.
I shook my head, and dad nodded sagely, and a table floated into reach for him to put his drink down on. He got up and went over to the kitchen rep and tapped in his code. Another glass of brown appeared and he handed it to me.
I stared at it as he sat down and picked up his glass again, the table zooming out of view. “My brother was… special. He was curious, like you. Always looking beyond. Beyond our globe, beyond our system, beyond the cluster. Beyond our reality even. But when he got older, there was one beyond that got him more curious than everything else.”
I copied the motions he did with his drink, swirling it carefully in the glass, sipping it… and making a face at the burning sensation. Dad pretended not to see it.
“Jack wasn’t satisfied with the skills we have already. Over the millennia since we started being able to extract and copy and import data straight to our brains every human skill is now available to every human. If it wasn’t for the somewhat limited capacity of our brains and the incompatibilities between certain skillsets every human alive would know every skill ever invented.”
I listened transfixed. This was common knowledge, of course, although it wasn’t the sort of thing ever really discussed. It just was. As obvious and mundane to us as the yearly gene tweak appointments while we were growing up.
“Jack went beyond skills. He collected a very specific sort of skills… and I believe those may be what he left you. The lack of marking isn’t for any nefarious purposes, it’s just that the marking system doesn’t have the words to describe what’s in there.”
I was in the middle of another sip and coughed suddenly. “But… how could that be? Surely there are words for every human skill available, or even inventible ones could be described…?”
“Yes,” dad said, and downed the last of his brown in a big swig.
“Every *human* skill.”
| The box lid shut with a bit too much noise for the small room. The echoes seemed to collect in various corners, something I had never noticed before. Never been able to notice before. Because I've never been this aware before. Time feels thick, like I can barely push through it.
My uncle was no one special. Insurance agent, not a great one. He didn't hit peak in high school, he never really hit his peak at all. Life long bachelor. No war stories, no great adventure. My whole life, he was the odd corner of a Thanksgiving dinner, and nothing more.
And now this. I now know more about how to tell male from female baby chicks than any other human. And I have no idea why. My uncle didn't have chickens. My uncle never stepped foot on a farm.
I slowly realize that this wasn't his skill. He got it just like I did, but now I had to know where it came from. Because I can't think about anything else anymore. I don't think he wanted this either. I'm starting to wonder if this is what held my uncle back his whole life. Do I have to die to forget this?
| |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | "To my dearest Isabella,
My family's history is complicated, to say the least. Your uncle Alfred isn't quite the playful old man I wished to be. When I was close to your age, I was given the same task that I must now pass to you.
A few hundred years ago, our story started. Man decided to become God, and we all know how well stories with that premise tend to go. He used his great wealth to buy his way into extraordinary abilities. They say his archery was unsurpassed, his strength immeasurable, his wisdom astounding. Unfortunately for him, no amount of money can buy your way into a longer life. He was a smart man, enough so to know that he couldn't live forever. So he decided to become immortal in a slightly less literal way. He wanted to pass his incredible skills to the heir most deserving. But the man didn't account for his most mortal trait: Love. He loved two of his children equally, and couldn't choose which should be granted his power. With great difficulty and consideration, he gifted each of his children a portion of his skills, that they might each continue his path to some extent through their own specialties.
One line was granted the physical manifestations of the man's power. They were strong, accurate, agile, and exceedingly healthy.
The second obtained the man's glorious mind. Blinding intellect, the wisdom of elders, and the quick thinking brain to carry through.
The third line, from which I descended, were given skills that the man considered weak. We were given his fears, his doubts, and the empathetic love that caused his indecision. He believed such things dragged him down, but we alone had the distrust and suspicions to know what would happen next. My great grandfather took away into the night to go into hiding.
The first generation of brothers grew up close enough together that they respected their fragmented portion of their father's gifts. In the second generation, the siblings stopped talking to each other, their mutual distaste for the others almost palpable. By the third, one had started hunting the others to reclaim those gifts he saw as his. Over the years, a few were killed in battle. Some gifts were dragged from bloody corpses, but others had already been given to closely trusted sons or daughters so that their gifts might yet live on.
I tell you all this so that you know the tasks that lie ahead. I never got around to having children of my own, so in these dark times my gifts go to you. Our family's war has become violent even by our past standards. Your distant cousins battle among themselves to emerge with inhuman power. A few hundred years ago, our line would be ignored. However, with time passed and stories mangled, they have come to believe that we have our own fair share of immense power, perhaps even more than them. You will be hunted, and your life is on the line.
Learn to use these skills quickly. If you are not adamant in your struggle, they will find you, and they will kill you.
Godspeed, Isabella. May my skills give you what you need to survive."
-Uncle Freddie. | The box lid shut with a bit too much noise for the small room. The echoes seemed to collect in various corners, something I had never noticed before. Never been able to notice before. Because I've never been this aware before. Time feels thick, like I can barely push through it.
My uncle was no one special. Insurance agent, not a great one. He didn't hit peak in high school, he never really hit his peak at all. Life long bachelor. No war stories, no great adventure. My whole life, he was the odd corner of a Thanksgiving dinner, and nothing more.
And now this. I now know more about how to tell male from female baby chicks than any other human. And I have no idea why. My uncle didn't have chickens. My uncle never stepped foot on a farm.
I slowly realize that this wasn't his skill. He got it just like I did, but now I had to know where it came from. Because I can't think about anything else anymore. I don't think he wanted this either. I'm starting to wonder if this is what held my uncle back his whole life. Do I have to die to forget this?
| |
[WP] Write a story that would make any man cry. Like really cry. | I remember the day I first gazed upon it. The small figure was a sight I thought to never forget. Those unsightly features were the fascination that drew me closer towards it. Patches of brown and light grey quilt were covering the body. The face was tattered with cuts and loose flesh. It had a spot on the right eye, a long nose and four whiskers. Two on each side. There was always a smile on the face. I instantly fell in love. I remember feeling that I could conquer anything as long as it was by my side. We would wake up at the first rays of dawn and grasp on to the noises of the world springing to life. The cool crisp mornings were a favourite of ours. With little remorse for health, we embarked on an adventure. One that only time could steal from us. The new day always brought the invitation of exploration. We would fly through space in search of the orb of everlasting power, dive deep into the oceans in hopes to find the lost treasure of Badazzar. Search through the cavernous mines of Frael, ready to battle the demonic serpent at the end. We indulged in the spoils of victory every evening with our heads held high. As we went to bed the newest of adventures were being created just for us.
"Where are we to explore tomorrow my friend?"
With a little whimper, I carressed the wrinkled face of my companion as it was looking to the distance in the night. The softness of his tuft only added to the warmth which I felt as I closed my eyes.
As I awoke in a dazed state, I could hear the machines whirring. One was helping me breathe, the other checking my pulse. The sounds started coming together until I could finally pick out words and voices around me. My son was lying next to me on a chair. He seemed to be in that position all night. As I slowly reached out to his head, I stammered with a shortness of breath,
"You should go home Matt. At least sleep on a proper bed."
With the sudden realization that I was speaking to him he awoke. I could see the fear in his eyes. He looked as if he had seen a ghost.
"Try not to speak now dad. It will only make you worse."
He was right. I could feel my chest tightening with every word. Matt lifted his head and carressed my hand.
"I brought something for you dad. I found it in one of the old boxes in your closet. You used to tell me all these stories of you and your friend travelling together."
Matt reached out to grab the bag underneath his seat and pulled out a a plush toy. The familiar features struck me instantly. The spotted eye, torn up face, the whiskers. It even had the same smile! I reached out to embrace my old friend. The same feeling of warmth as I remembered as a child. | Carl took another swig from one of the bottles of whiskey lying around his room. He always drank straight from the bottle because he couldn't stand the smell of alcohol, in fact he hated the taste as well, but he is on his last nerve and can't handle the pressure any more. Alcohol has been his friend for the better part of the last year but now he plans to upgrade his friend to a guy named Meth. Carl has come close on many occasions to literally pulling the trigger on his 6 shot revolver, the same one that he carried on duty before he was forced to retire after accidentally shooting an innocent bystander. Luckily the bystander lived and chose not to sue. But instead of pulling that trigger and ending his troubles he has decided to try one last ditch effort... he lights up and smokes all the meth he was able to buy with the last of his separation pay. The relief came instantly and he no longer cared about the incessant crying from his baby girl. He knew that April wasn't a bad baby, she was in pain, that is why she was always crying, but he couldn't no longer stand it, hence the alcohol and then the meth. Carl was a single Dad. April's mother died giving birth even though she had been advised to abort due to the risk, but Susan stuck to her faith and carried on with the pregnancy even though she knew it would likely kill her and also knowing that little April would be born with poor odds herself. Carl was angry at Susan for this but only because he loved her so much. But he loves April too, even though he knows April is not his real baby girl, he learned that for the first time during child birth, April's skin tone did not match his or Susan's color. But not of that matters now, his good friend Meth is distracting him. Carl eventually falls asleep.
From Black to sudden chaos in the form of bright lights and that incessant screaming... the Meth has worn off and now he wanted more but Carl knows he cannot get more... its time... time to just go ahead and pull the trigger and end the suffering. He finds his gun, loads one round, carefully orients his gun to ensure a clean, effective kill shot. He cries, asks for forgiveness then pulls the trigger. . . . April isn't crying anymore but now Carl realizes he should have loaded that second round in the chamber because now it's his turn. | |
[WP] Write a story that would make any man cry. Like really cry. | They always tell you let them go free, if they come back they're truly yours and if they don't they were never yours.
They tell you never to try and force anything a romance, a job, a friendship if it doesn't come naturally it shouldn't be.
I listened to them, that why I lived a empty life, died alone and no one came to my funeral. | Carl took another swig from one of the bottles of whiskey lying around his room. He always drank straight from the bottle because he couldn't stand the smell of alcohol, in fact he hated the taste as well, but he is on his last nerve and can't handle the pressure any more. Alcohol has been his friend for the better part of the last year but now he plans to upgrade his friend to a guy named Meth. Carl has come close on many occasions to literally pulling the trigger on his 6 shot revolver, the same one that he carried on duty before he was forced to retire after accidentally shooting an innocent bystander. Luckily the bystander lived and chose not to sue. But instead of pulling that trigger and ending his troubles he has decided to try one last ditch effort... he lights up and smokes all the meth he was able to buy with the last of his separation pay. The relief came instantly and he no longer cared about the incessant crying from his baby girl. He knew that April wasn't a bad baby, she was in pain, that is why she was always crying, but he couldn't no longer stand it, hence the alcohol and then the meth. Carl was a single Dad. April's mother died giving birth even though she had been advised to abort due to the risk, but Susan stuck to her faith and carried on with the pregnancy even though she knew it would likely kill her and also knowing that little April would be born with poor odds herself. Carl was angry at Susan for this but only because he loved her so much. But he loves April too, even though he knows April is not his real baby girl, he learned that for the first time during child birth, April's skin tone did not match his or Susan's color. But not of that matters now, his good friend Meth is distracting him. Carl eventually falls asleep.
From Black to sudden chaos in the form of bright lights and that incessant screaming... the Meth has worn off and now he wanted more but Carl knows he cannot get more... its time... time to just go ahead and pull the trigger and end the suffering. He finds his gun, loads one round, carefully orients his gun to ensure a clean, effective kill shot. He cries, asks for forgiveness then pulls the trigger. . . . April isn't crying anymore but now Carl realizes he should have loaded that second round in the chamber because now it's his turn. | |
[WP] Write a story that would make any man cry. Like really cry. | When I was a young I used to sit for hours beneath the great sycamore tree in my parents' garden. A huge, gnarled beast with thick, warped arms that stretched out protectively, far above my head. I'd often bring a book outside and sit leaning against the tree, wedged between two giant roots that were as tall as my waist. I would then lose myself in the worlds of Tolkien, Dahl, Lewis, and scores of other great writers. Being home schooled, I had very few friends, and so the characters in those fantastical books became my companions.
I was worlds away, inside of a giant peach, when I first met her. I don't know how long she'd been watching me, but there she was, poking her little freckled face over the rickety fence. A messy mop of auburn hair framed her cherub like features, on which a curious expression hung.
"What'cha doing?" she asked, as she saw me see her. For such a small creature, her voice was full and rich and above all, confident.
"What does it look like?" I replied curtly. I immediately regretted snapping at her, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Doesn't look like you're doing anything, to me. Nothing *fun* anyway." She pulled herself up onto the fence, took a breath and jumped down; her ladybug dotted frock billowing in the air as she fell. She landed on her feet but only for a moment. Gravity was too strong for her small legs and she came down quickly, rolling onto the soft moss. She swiftly adjusted her hair, but there was something strange about the way she did it.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She looked at me as if I were odd. "Of course. I'm not as soft as I look."
"You don't look particularly soft," I said, closing my book and walking over to her. I stretched out an arm and helped hoist her back to her feet.
"Sam," she said as she held out a hand.
"Jack," I replied, shaking it. "Sam's not a..." I didn't finish my sentence, but I didn't need to.
"Samantha," she said, rolling her eyes, "but I prefer Sam. You not met a Sam before?"
"I don't meet many people," I replied with a shrug.
"Why not?
"I'm home schooled - I don't get to see many other kids. I mean, it's great and everything, but, there aren't many people to play with. *Any",* I added, correcting myself.
"Well, you know *me* now. And I don't have any friends either, so we're going to have to look out for each other." She gave me a playful nudge.
"Why don't *you* have any friends?" I asked in the way only kids or overbearing adults would dare to.
"I got this thing. I'm not *that* well, at the moment. Mom and dad moved us into the country as they thought the air would be good for me. It's dumb really, I'm perfectly fine - as you can see." She gave a dainty pirouette as if to prove her point.
"Oh, well I hope you get better soon," I said, not really knowing *what* to say.
"That's what I'm telling you - I *am* fine. Just... you know what parents are like." She rolled her eyes again and I laughed.
"Yeah, I know," I said easily.
"Race you to the top," she yelled, pushing me out of the way and running toward the sycamore.
---
Months passed and my books waited patiently on their shelves, slowly gathering the early autumn dust. I had less time, and much less *need* to escape into another reality. Sam and I spent much of our free time half way up the sycamore, our legs dangling hungrily over the precipice. I think we both felt free up there, far away from parents and problems, talking about things adults simply couldn't understand. Up there in the arms of the sycamore, the warm breeze gently caressing us, we felt we'd finally found *our* place.
It was late in October that she stopped coming to the sycamore tree. She'd been busy before with trips to see relatives or appointments with the doctor, but usually, she told me about them first. And *always*, she'd be back a day or two later.
Each day she was gone I sat alone under the great tree, an unopened book in my hands, watching the fence and hoping to see my friends' head peep over. Hoping she still *was* my friend.
Two weeks passed without me seeing or hearing even a word from Sam. I told my parents. "I'm sure she has other friends, Jack. You're not the center of her world," my dad said, *trying* to comfort me but doing the exact opposite. I decided right then that I would go around to her parents house and knock on the door. I would confront her; find out why she didn't want to be friends any more. I would do it the next morning -- first thing.
If I had only gone that evening, I would have been able to say goodbye to her. There is still not a day that passes without me wondering why I didn't have the courage to go at that moment. Perhaps deep down I simply knew what waited for me, and I was afraid.
The next three weeks passed in a tempest of tears and hatred. Hate for her leaving me; hate for myself for not being with her when she needed me. *For not even knowing*. I imagined her lying in her bed, waiting for me to visit -- and I didn't come. She must have thought I didn't care. Perhaps the largest part of my hate was reserved for the sycamore tree itself. I channelled all my resentment into it; my hatred of an unfair world. Even its very name now reminded me of illness.
One sleepless night after much tossing and turning and trying to remove her image from my mind's eye, I decided to do something about the long limbed demon that lurked out in the garden. I snuck out of bed and, dressed only in my blue cotton pyjamas, I took an axe from the garden shed. Beneath the pale moonlight I walked up to devil tree and furiously, but impotently, swung the axe at it. And then again, and again. Every bit of my being was consumed by the task; I was fuelled by failure and self-loathing.
I had barely chipped the bark when my parents found me. My dad took the axe and I collapsed into my mothers arms and let it all out. I told them that my only friend was dead; that it was my fault - that she must have waited for me and I hadn't come. I wept and wept, until there was nothing left inside of me except for a dull emptiness. They brought me inside and my dad made me a hot chocolate and read me the B.F.G until I finally fell asleep.
I was enrolled in the local school the next term, and while I hadn't truly come to terms with Sam dying, I did begin making other friends. The time came eventually when I was ready to confront the great tree once more, this time without an axe. My parents had for a long time thought it would be good for me; that afterwards, it might stop haunting my dreams. I gingerly walked up to it, sweat trickling down my forehead. Mustering all my courage I pressed my palm against it and squeezed my eyes tightly shut.
>"Race you to the top," she said, already dashing for the tree. She grabbed a low branch and swung her body up.
>I was stunned for a moment, but quickly gained my composure, and refusing to be beaten by a girl climbing *my* tree, I hastily followed.
I opened my eyes and smiled through the tears. I grabbed a branch and began climbing to *our* place. A year is a long time for a young person, and my body was heavier and clunkier than the last time I'd climbed. But slowly, cautiously, I crept up the tree and reached the spot where we had smiled away so many evenings.
It was there, stuffed in a tiny carved-out hollow, that I found the note. It was wrinkled and the black ink was smudged from drops of salty water.
> Hey Jack. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye in person, but well, you know.
>I lied, Jack. I'm sicker than I said, and I don't have much time left. But Jack, thank you so much for our time together. You told me once you didn't have any friends... well, you did, Jack. You had me, and you always will do.
>Before I moved here, my dad said I'd lost my smile. I found it again when I first saw you sitting there beneath this beautiful tree, lost in your own world.
>But Jack, time is precious. Chase your dreams. Don't live through other peoples.
>Your friend forever
>Samantha
>:)
---
/r/nickofnight
| Carl took another swig from one of the bottles of whiskey lying around his room. He always drank straight from the bottle because he couldn't stand the smell of alcohol, in fact he hated the taste as well, but he is on his last nerve and can't handle the pressure any more. Alcohol has been his friend for the better part of the last year but now he plans to upgrade his friend to a guy named Meth. Carl has come close on many occasions to literally pulling the trigger on his 6 shot revolver, the same one that he carried on duty before he was forced to retire after accidentally shooting an innocent bystander. Luckily the bystander lived and chose not to sue. But instead of pulling that trigger and ending his troubles he has decided to try one last ditch effort... he lights up and smokes all the meth he was able to buy with the last of his separation pay. The relief came instantly and he no longer cared about the incessant crying from his baby girl. He knew that April wasn't a bad baby, she was in pain, that is why she was always crying, but he couldn't no longer stand it, hence the alcohol and then the meth. Carl was a single Dad. April's mother died giving birth even though she had been advised to abort due to the risk, but Susan stuck to her faith and carried on with the pregnancy even though she knew it would likely kill her and also knowing that little April would be born with poor odds herself. Carl was angry at Susan for this but only because he loved her so much. But he loves April too, even though he knows April is not his real baby girl, he learned that for the first time during child birth, April's skin tone did not match his or Susan's color. But not of that matters now, his good friend Meth is distracting him. Carl eventually falls asleep.
From Black to sudden chaos in the form of bright lights and that incessant screaming... the Meth has worn off and now he wanted more but Carl knows he cannot get more... its time... time to just go ahead and pull the trigger and end the suffering. He finds his gun, loads one round, carefully orients his gun to ensure a clean, effective kill shot. He cries, asks for forgiveness then pulls the trigger. . . . April isn't crying anymore but now Carl realizes he should have loaded that second round in the chamber because now it's his turn. | |
[WP] Write a story that would make any man cry. Like really cry. | When I was a young I used to sit for hours beneath the great sycamore tree in my parents' garden. A huge, gnarled beast with thick, warped arms that stretched out protectively, far above my head. I'd often bring a book outside and sit leaning against the tree, wedged between two giant roots that were as tall as my waist. I would then lose myself in the worlds of Tolkien, Dahl, Lewis, and scores of other great writers. Being home schooled, I had very few friends, and so the characters in those fantastical books became my companions.
I was worlds away, inside of a giant peach, when I first met her. I don't know how long she'd been watching me, but there she was, poking her little freckled face over the rickety fence. A messy mop of auburn hair framed her cherub like features, on which a curious expression hung.
"What'cha doing?" she asked, as she saw me see her. For such a small creature, her voice was full and rich and above all, confident.
"What does it look like?" I replied curtly. I immediately regretted snapping at her, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Doesn't look like you're doing anything, to me. Nothing *fun* anyway." She pulled herself up onto the fence, took a breath and jumped down; her ladybug dotted frock billowing in the air as she fell. She landed on her feet but only for a moment. Gravity was too strong for her small legs and she came down quickly, rolling onto the soft moss. She swiftly adjusted her hair, but there was something strange about the way she did it.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She looked at me as if I were odd. "Of course. I'm not as soft as I look."
"You don't look particularly soft," I said, closing my book and walking over to her. I stretched out an arm and helped hoist her back to her feet.
"Sam," she said as she held out a hand.
"Jack," I replied, shaking it. "Sam's not a..." I didn't finish my sentence, but I didn't need to.
"Samantha," she said, rolling her eyes, "but I prefer Sam. You not met a Sam before?"
"I don't meet many people," I replied with a shrug.
"Why not?
"I'm home schooled - I don't get to see many other kids. I mean, it's great and everything, but, there aren't many people to play with. *Any",* I added, correcting myself.
"Well, you know *me* now. And I don't have any friends either, so we're going to have to look out for each other." She gave me a playful nudge.
"Why don't *you* have any friends?" I asked in the way only kids or overbearing adults would dare to.
"I got this thing. I'm not *that* well, at the moment. Mom and dad moved us into the country as they thought the air would be good for me. It's dumb really, I'm perfectly fine - as you can see." She gave a dainty pirouette as if to prove her point.
"Oh, well I hope you get better soon," I said, not really knowing *what* to say.
"That's what I'm telling you - I *am* fine. Just... you know what parents are like." She rolled her eyes again and I laughed.
"Yeah, I know," I said easily.
"Race you to the top," she yelled, pushing me out of the way and running toward the sycamore.
---
Months passed and my books waited patiently on their shelves, slowly gathering the early autumn dust. I had less time, and much less *need* to escape into another reality. Sam and I spent much of our free time half way up the sycamore, our legs dangling hungrily over the precipice. I think we both felt free up there, far away from parents and problems, talking about things adults simply couldn't understand. Up there in the arms of the sycamore, the warm breeze gently caressing us, we felt we'd finally found *our* place.
It was late in October that she stopped coming to the sycamore tree. She'd been busy before with trips to see relatives or appointments with the doctor, but usually, she told me about them first. And *always*, she'd be back a day or two later.
Each day she was gone I sat alone under the great tree, an unopened book in my hands, watching the fence and hoping to see my friends' head peep over. Hoping she still *was* my friend.
Two weeks passed without me seeing or hearing even a word from Sam. I told my parents. "I'm sure she has other friends, Jack. You're not the center of her world," my dad said, *trying* to comfort me but doing the exact opposite. I decided right then that I would go around to her parents house and knock on the door. I would confront her; find out why she didn't want to be friends any more. I would do it the next morning -- first thing.
If I had only gone that evening, I would have been able to say goodbye to her. There is still not a day that passes without me wondering why I didn't have the courage to go at that moment. Perhaps deep down I simply knew what waited for me, and I was afraid.
The next three weeks passed in a tempest of tears and hatred. Hate for her leaving me; hate for myself for not being with her when she needed me. *For not even knowing*. I imagined her lying in her bed, waiting for me to visit -- and I didn't come. She must have thought I didn't care. Perhaps the largest part of my hate was reserved for the sycamore tree itself. I channelled all my resentment into it; my hatred of an unfair world. Even its very name now reminded me of illness.
One sleepless night after much tossing and turning and trying to remove her image from my mind's eye, I decided to do something about the long limbed demon that lurked out in the garden. I snuck out of bed and, dressed only in my blue cotton pyjamas, I took an axe from the garden shed. Beneath the pale moonlight I walked up to devil tree and furiously, but impotently, swung the axe at it. And then again, and again. Every bit of my being was consumed by the task; I was fuelled by failure and self-loathing.
I had barely chipped the bark when my parents found me. My dad took the axe and I collapsed into my mothers arms and let it all out. I told them that my only friend was dead; that it was my fault - that she must have waited for me and I hadn't come. I wept and wept, until there was nothing left inside of me except for a dull emptiness. They brought me inside and my dad made me a hot chocolate and read me the B.F.G until I finally fell asleep.
I was enrolled in the local school the next term, and while I hadn't truly come to terms with Sam dying, I did begin making other friends. The time came eventually when I was ready to confront the great tree once more, this time without an axe. My parents had for a long time thought it would be good for me; that afterwards, it might stop haunting my dreams. I gingerly walked up to it, sweat trickling down my forehead. Mustering all my courage I pressed my palm against it and squeezed my eyes tightly shut.
>"Race you to the top," she said, already dashing for the tree. She grabbed a low branch and swung her body up.
>I was stunned for a moment, but quickly gained my composure, and refusing to be beaten by a girl climbing *my* tree, I hastily followed.
I opened my eyes and smiled through the tears. I grabbed a branch and began climbing to *our* place. A year is a long time for a young person, and my body was heavier and clunkier than the last time I'd climbed. But slowly, cautiously, I crept up the tree and reached the spot where we had smiled away so many evenings.
It was there, stuffed in a tiny carved-out hollow, that I found the note. It was wrinkled and the black ink was smudged from drops of salty water.
> Hey Jack. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye in person, but well, you know.
>I lied, Jack. I'm sicker than I said, and I don't have much time left. But Jack, thank you so much for our time together. You told me once you didn't have any friends... well, you did, Jack. You had me, and you always will do.
>Before I moved here, my dad said I'd lost my smile. I found it again when I first saw you sitting there beneath this beautiful tree, lost in your own world.
>But Jack, time is precious. Chase your dreams. Don't live through other peoples.
>Your friend forever
>Samantha
>:)
---
/r/nickofnight
| 'Dad?'
'Hmm?'
I hope he doesn't catch the sigh of relief, but I think I'm safe; through the morphine, I'd be surprised if he caught much of anything. The past few weeks have been kind of a blur for us both. The news came quickly, from panic to diagnosis to this all in less than two months. It would be difficult to believe, if either one of us had had much time to think about it.
'Nothing. Go back to sleep.'
It's easier than *Just checking*, even though we both know that's what I really mean.
He takes a deep breath that sounds like dried beans rattling around in a tin can. The tube that sits at his nostrils delivers a steady supply of oxygen, but even that isn't enough. 'I've done nothing but sleep for days,' he says. 'I'm fine.'
*If only*, I think.
'How are you feeling?'
'Peachy,' he says, and then runs his tongue over sandpaper lips. 'Just peachy. Is there any water left?'
'Sure.' I drain the last of the jug into a paper cup, slip the straw in and watch as he tries to pull the liquid up into his mouth. It's effort for him, but he won't let me hold the cup to his mouth anymore, not since he spilled it down himself and a nurse had to clean him up. 'It's embarrassing,' he said. 'I'm not a damn baby. I can do it myself.' Through the clear plastic, I watch the water level rise almost to his lips and then fall back down.
'Shit,' he says, and then in a small, childish voice: 'Sorry.'
'It's OK. Try again.'
It takes, this time. Seeing the look of concentration on his face, I'm reminded of a book he used to read to me when I was a kid: Greek myths, all illustrated, page after page after page. Orpheus and Eurydice, Jason and the Argonauts, Theseus and the Minotaur, and then at the back of it all, the stories of the Underworld: Sisyphus, pushing a boulder for all eternity; Prometheus, his liver pecked out by an eagle every day only to grow back the next; the Danaides with their cracked pots, who could never wash off their sins.
And then there was Tantalus, the worst of them all: cursed to starve forever, the food and drink always out of reach. I can still picture his anguished face in the picture book, raging against the injustice of it all: a lopsided crown and tattered robes, with a skeletal hand reaching out for something he'd never touch. I'd kill for Dad to have that fight in him, for him to have kept that anger, but instead he's just resigned to his fate. That's the hardest part of it. I've never seen him this passive, not in all the time I've known him.
*Twenty-nine. Too young to be an orphan.*
It's best not to dwell on it. Soon I'll have nothing but time to think it over, but for now... savour the moments, agonising as they are. That's what I tell myself. Make them count.
'Better?' I ask, and he shrugs. What's the refreshment of a sip of lukewarm water compared to the rot in his body? How could one ever make up for the other?
'You want me to call a nurse?'
'For what?' he says, and now it's my turn to shrug.
I watch his fingers creep across the bed to the button on the morphine pump: the struggle to press it down, and then the beep from the machine at his side that says he's already at his maximum dose. The look of agony on his face as he realises he'll have to struggle through.
The knowledge that I can do nothing to help him: my father. Tantalus denied again.
'Is it bad?' I ask.
For the first time, he doesn't lie to me. 'Yeah,' he says as his eyes close again, like he's deep in thought -- like he can will the tumour away, if only he concentrates hard enough. 'Yeah, it's pretty bad.'
I don't know what to say to that. It's getting close now: the spectre that's been chasing him since his diagnosis. He can feel it. I can feel it. This... this is just him running out the clock, waiting for the end to come, for sweet release. If he could, he would have run that morphine bag dry days ago, defiant to the last -- but he can't even do that. All he can do now is give in, when the moment comes.
The man that he used to be died weeks ago. I can't tell who that's more painful for, him or me.
'Dad?'
'Yeah?'
'I...'
*I want you back.*
*I need you.*
*I love you.*
The words catch on my lips, suddenly as dry as his. I can't say it. We've never said it, not really; we've never had to. After Mom died, it was unspoken. We were alone, just the two of us. The silence was easier, but just as comforting, somehow -- but there's no comfort in it now. Now, there's only cowardice.
'I'm going to get you some more water, OK?' I say. My failure is bitter on my tongue.
He nods, his eyes still closed. 'Sure thing, kiddo,' he says. 'Take your time.'
I pause at the door for a second, watching him in the dim light of the hospital room. It's only 3pm, but he has the curtains drawn; the sunlight hurts his eyes, so he stays in perpetual gloom as he waits for the end. It makes the lamp above his best that much brighter, shining down on him like a halo, highlighting every blue vein, every wrinkle, every bruise. It highlights just what he's become, and everything that has been lost.
And then, like a cobweb on the wind, I hear it. It comes out so quiet, even in the silence, that I can't quite be sure I heard it. A final act of bravery -- and there, somewhere beneath the skin-stretched skeleton in the bed in front of me, is the father I used to know.
'Me too, son,' he says. 'Me too.'
_____
If you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa. | |
[WP] You're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids. | MY FIRST VICTIM:
(*I happen upon the Pharaoh staring blindly at the ceiling reminiscing about a fond memory and smiling blankly. As a construction supplier with close ties to him, I've been wondering how to exploit my friendship for profit. I figure this is a good chance to pitch an idea that's been keeping me awake.*)
**ME:** Look at all this empty space outside the palace. It seems like such a waste. Remember last summer...
(*Brushing aside my observation with impeccable royal rudeness*)
**PHARAOH:** It's always summer here
**ME:** Well..3 months ago when we went to Saudi Arabia to have that embarrassing mole on your..
(*Not relenting on the rudeness for a second and without missing a beat. This time with a tinge of discomfort*)
**PHARAOH:** I know why we went to Saudi Arabia
**ME:** I mean..didn't it bother you that King Azura kept going on about his giant castles?
(*Displaying retrospective indignity*)
**PHARAOH:** He was showboating a little wasn't he
(*I decide to press the issue while he's still hot*)
**ME:** No..he was showboating A LOT. I think he was throwing like...mighty shade at you boss
**PHARAOH:** Now that you mention it, he was being a bit of a jackass wasn't he? I should try and outdo him and invite him over for ..Thanksgiving ..or whatever it is us Egyptians celebrate at this time in history.
**ME:** Should I gather the slaves then?
**PHARAOH:** Yeah..but we should come up with some designs first . I don't want a castle. I honestly think they're an eyesore and I was just acting amazed to be polite . Plus, I don't want him to think we're a bunch of copycats. We are the Egyptians for chrissakes..we who chased the Jews away
**ME:** I don't think that was a good thing. We might have to go to hell for that.
**PHARAOH:** I know right? Well, lets live in the moment and build some super cool structures.
**ME:** How about giant diamond shaped buildings?
**PHARAOH:** Everyone adores diamonds. Azura will freak!
You're a genius Aziz. Alright then! We don't have time for blueprints. Just build the gem cribs..I want them all over the place and preferably upside down. How lazy would we come off if we don't add a little twist to the plot
**ME:** You read my mind. I'll mobilize the slaves right away sir.
(*After a relatively short period considering the lack of Caterpiller front loaders and excavators*)
**ME:** All done
(*Impatiently inquisitive and shifting restlessly in his chair*)
**PHARAOH:** Well?
**ME:** A little issue with the foundations..we forgot to include any
(*The Pharaoh is besides himself at this point. Leans forward and enquires incredulously*)
**PHARAOH:** What!
(*I'm shaking in my white robe but have enough will to conceal it. I answer matter-of-factedly deflecting all blame on the workers*)
**ME:** Yeah..total amateur move on the slaves
**PHARAOH:** I trusted you to be the foreman. Now what are we going to do. We'll look like idiots !!
**ME:** Not necessarily . It rained quite a bit while we were working and the structures just semi sunk into the soft sand. They look like pyramids
(*The man is awash with relief. The sweat on his brow dissipates rapidly and and calm is restored in the huge palace living room*)
**PHARAOH:** Really? How lucky is that? Oh bless you Aziz you evil genius you. We'll pretend that's what we intended to build the whole time. What are you waiting for? Send for King Azura. That bonehead will beg to kiss my golden rings. | Abu sir was a man of faith. He had blind faith in his ability to rise through cunning and sold his patriotism like a faith-healer sold Osiris; with complete devotion. His dedication to himself had seen him rise to become the pharaoh's military advisor. There he found favor, especially since the king was only 8 years old. Unlike other pharaoh's, Djoser was content with Abu sir's stories of war. The previous pharaoh frequently asked for live demonstrations.
Now they walked through the market place with the hot afternoon sun on their foreheads. Pharaoh Djoser had requested to see the town the way a commoner would, and so Abu sir and his delegation marched onward carrying Djoser shoulder high on his throne.
As they walked on the pharaoh spoke. "Abu Sir, what happened to Jalakani?"
"Oh he is around. In fact, his home is not far ahead."
"Take me to him," said Djoser.
the group made a turn, and were at the treasurer's home in a short time.
Abu Sir knocked on the door waiting for the man he considered part of the few rational ones in the kingdom.
Wanas opened the door, and smiles faded faster than a man who saw his mother in law in place of his wife.
"What are you doing here?" Abu Sir demanded of the philosopher.
"Oh, just taking care of a friend's home as he goes visiting. Your highness!" he said bowing down. "In need of some philosophizing today?"
"I am fine thank you." Djoser said shifting in his seat.
"Are you sure?"
"Certainly." Djoser had more than once listened to the wise sayings of the philosophers, some he considered very clever such as, "Great pharaohs began as great boys." However, on other occasions Djoser would mention things such as, "Most of the messes of history are because pharaohs cannot be satisfied with a nice chicken and a good loaf of bread."
Abu Sir had also heard some of his other proverbs such as "I never joined the army for patriotic reasons," and "force always attracts men of low morality." Thankfully they only had one philosopher, unlike the Greeks who seemed to have an epidemic. Even Anwas was from the Hitties. Philosophizing was not the Egyptian way.
"It's okay," the pharaoh said turning his delegation.
"As you go your highness, one saying. Free of charge."
"What is it?"
"Remember, whether you're a king or a slave we will all end in the same grave." Anwas then started to laugh.
The group marched on. Abu Sir got an idea. He approached the pharaoh. "You know your highness, we could show him that a pharaoh, and a slave do not go to the same grave."
Djoser turned to him, "What are you suggesting?"
"What if we build a monument, one that stretched to the sky. A resting place fit for a god."
"Go on."
"When you die your highness, all your servants follow you to tend to you in the after life, and even Anwas will see a Pharaoh does not die like a commoner."
"That sounds splendid, I can see it now, my cooks my guards..."
"Your guards would have to guard it your highness. Such a monument would only attract you know the kind...."
"But a philosopher, you'd definitely need one, to keep you sharp, wise sayings."
"I see, but surely such a monument would take a lot of resources. Where would I get such?"
"Well the Hitties have proved unable to rule themselves, why not let me convince them that working to build this is for their glory? I can get them to do it for free."
"Free?"
"Of course, for some reason, when people see my spear and my platoon they often give us things for free."
"Is this magic?"
"Military magic oh great one."
***
/r/pagefighter |
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