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I posted this before, got 10 upvotes but no comments before getting buried. Hoping that this time is different.
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[WP] It's the year 2782. You're hanging out with your alien friends one night and browsing Netflix, wondering what to watch. Then a title catches your attention: "Star Trek. The Original Series"
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"Warp engine?" K'Rax let out a sound Jeremy knew was supposed to be a laugh for K'Rax's species. "Everyone knows spaceships can't handle the strain of travelling in warpspace."
"And seriously, *two* warp engines on a single vessel?" Jeremy snorted in reply. "That's just asking for trouble."
In old times, warp drive was one of several popular-in-SF ways one could travel faster than light. By 2782, not only did it become real but it was also revealed it's extremely dangerous to use. The larger the spaceship is, the more its hull is strained and stretched while travelling in warpspace. On top of that, it was revealed that putting two active warp engines near one another would produce a Tyson field, a tear in the space, which would push the spaceship back into realspace and probably break it apart into several parts, if it didn't already fall apart just by travelling in warpspace.
"Now, now," Serene said. "This is an 800-years-old SF TV show. Do you seriously think they would have known that stuff back then?"
"Well, no," K'Rax started. "But it still strains my suspension of disbelief."
"Oh, you're just impossible."
"Ah, it's okay, " Jeremy shrugged. "I'll be able to buy it as long as they don't start putting other silly stuff into the show, like 'replicating' food out of nothing, or making 'holo-pictures' that are not actually real and are powered by AI."
"Hak hak hak, yes," K'Rax laughed again. "Now, *that* would be stupid. Surely, they knew you can't create someting out of nothing even back in 20th century, right?"
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“Arto, you want to Netflix & chill?”
“Sure why not. Which year should we watch?”
“Let's see... This like fun. From 1966. Star Trek. Okay for you?”
“Haha! The oldies. Screen it up, Marco! Screen. It. Up.”
I open it up. The oldies picture start to move on our super tech water screen. Super as in water screen is the only tech in this time that can show the real antique video format. Luckily my grandpa inherited from his grandpa who inherited from his grandpa.
So we watch it for hours. It looks so familiar. It was listed under fiction but what Arto & I watch now is close to documentary. I guess Netflix don't really update their archive. What a lazy bunch of being.
“Man... I envy them for having time machine,” says Arto.
“Me too. Whoever the bastard that decide to destroy that technology is a pure asshole. Keeping it for himself & laugh from the ethereal realm at us. Must be fun for him.”
“Yeah... Can't believe they made a exploration documentary in their old age tech. Super fun.”
“Yeah... Enterprise now is a relic in museum.” I close the water screen & head to the toilet.
Seriously, I envy them ancient people and their time machine.
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[WP] After you die, you are revived to the same day when you were 16, getting to relive your life again until your death, making any changes you want. After your 100th revive, you're getting sick of this shit.
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"It's like Groundhog Day. But then, instead of repeating every day, I'm reliving my life over and over again. Could you even imagine what that's like? And I start at the worst possible time in my life too. I'm way too old to act like teenage angst. You know you aren't even able to communicate properly after a while? I've seen a wife and sometimes kids die ten, twenty, thirty times. I've intentionally *ignored* my wife so I could spare myself seeing her die again. You think someone like me has time to listen to the average dribble of daily life? No. Quite frankly I'm sick of it."
Jacob crossed his arms, drawing a deep breath after the tirade he just finished. The man across him stared at the clipboard in front of him, carefully finishing his last few notes.
"What are--," Jacob started again, but the man interrupted him by holding up his index finger. With a deep sigh, Jacob leaned back on the leather couch.
"Right," the man across him said, carefully clearing his throat. "So what do you want from me?"
Jacob laughed. "I mean, your type generally tries to offer some council."
The psychiatrist smiled back. "I feel like that would be pointless. I won't pretend to have the insight to make you happy again. No, I'm wondering about what it is *you* want."
"I want it to end," Jacob replied, instantly. "By all accounts I've lived over a good five thousand years, so you can spare me that concerned look. I've lived so much I'm sick of it. Going to bed and not waking up seems like a highly underrated experience."
"Of course the people who consider that a less pleasent experience don't get another go," the psychiatrist retorted.
"Sure. But you know what the biggest problem is? None of it *matters*. I lived for myself, I lived for my country, I did just about everything someone could expect from a person. I started wars, stopped them, invented medicine, saved children across the world, became rich and just about everything else. You'd think you'd be content with leaving behind a better world. But I don't. I just go back and have to do it over again. It's not like that Tom Cruise movie, where there's an endgame. I'll just go on forever and forever and forever."
"Until you don't, of course."
Jacob frowned. "What do you mean?"
The psychiatrist smiled. "You're not going to tell me you've never wondered about why *you*, of all people in the world, have the ability to do it all over? Nothing that exists in our current knowledge would lead us to believe that's even possible. Honestly I don't think we will ever theorize this phenomenon to actually exist, let alone discover a way to do it. So that leads me to ask this question." And he slowly turned around the clipboard. Underneath some scribbles stood a question:
"Who or what did this?"
Jacob repeatedly tapped his fingers on the couch in the silence that followed. "Of course I've thought about it," he started, frowning as he tried to mold his thoughts into words. "But I don't know more than I did before."
The psychiatrist checked his watch and stood up. "It's been 5PM for a while now, I think we've enough for today. Jacob, haven't you ever wondered what *the* purpose is. Not your purpose, specifically, but the purpose of that fact you're reviving at a point in time? What's the point in that?"
Jacob shrugged.
"I feel like you should direct more of your attention to that. Something or someone put you up to this, and I can't imagine they're just letting you fool around forever. And even if they do, I'm sure they're checking up on you. Somehow. You're telling me you've never spotted a strange consistency despite your surroundings changing massively every time?"
"Nothing that I can think of right away, at least." Jacob stood up and shook the psychiatrist's hand.
"Food for thought, then. I'll see you next week, Jacob."
Outside, Jacob zipped up his jacket all the way to his neck, protecting him from the cold wind. He hadn't gotten his driver's license yet this time around, so he'd just walk home. The snow crunched under his feet as he made his way home. Mr. Rekam, the friendly neighbor living across their house, waved as Jacob came home. He'd always done that, and as Jacob opened the door he waved back without a second thought.
"How was school today?", his mom asked as he dropped his bag in the hallway.
"Great mom, loads of homework though - I'll be down for dinner," Jacob replied as he walked up the stairs. He closed the door behind him and laid down on his bed.
"Now, what about those consistencies," Jacob mumbled, as he started to reflect on his previous lives.
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"YOU!"
Chrissy sighed, closing her locker door. Down the hall, Mark fumed, his face beet red. Probably looking to start another fight. No one really understood why he'd gotten so aggressive lately - a flip had been switched overnight, and he'd gone from the meekest guy in school to the being detained by the police three times.
Chrissy looked down the hall to see who his next victim was, only to watch the area clear out, people scurrying away from her. She felt a hand clasp her arm, tightening around it like a vice.
Dragged to the side and slammed against the locker, Mark loomed over her. His hand squeezed harder and harder on her arm - she was sure she'd lost circulation by now, not that that mattered with Mark looking like he'd kill her on the spot.
His gaze boring into her, she looked away and swallowed hard.
"Can you... stop... squeezing my arm? It really hurts," Chrissy said quietly. She could feel the squeezing stop, though his grip was still tight. A little more reasonable than she thought. Still afraid to face him, she looked down the hall, hoping to see a teacher. To no avail, of course; whenever Mark went on a rampage, they always made themselves scarce.
"I have tried everything," Mark said suddenly. A long pause hung in the air. Chrissy realized he was waiting for her to say something.
"Have you now?" Mark's grip began to tighten again. Wrong answer. "I-I mean, maybe there's something you've just, uh, thought wouldn't work, so you didn't try-"
"I have tried everything!" Mark's voice resounded through the halls, drowning out a few small gasps that could be heard around the corner. "I've tried dating you, I've tried marrying you, having children with you, divorcing with you, avoiding you, giving you a promotion, setting you up, making you rich, making you poor, fulfilling your dreams, fulfilling your families dreams, saving you, killing-"
"S-stop right there!" Chrissy stalled, her mind trying to process what he was saying. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Yes you do! Right before I died, you told me you'd always known-"
"I don't! And what's this about dying-"
"Stop lying to me!" Mark slammed his fist into the locker just above Chrissy's head. The impact rung in her ears, but she didn't care. She was focused on him now, her glare matching his, her indignation rising.
"Why won't you just let me die?" Mark said, his tone low.
"I don't know," Chrissy said, pushing him away. He let go of her arm and stood in the middle of the hall, his shoulders hunched as if carrying a huge backpack. For a moment, he looked as if he was going to cry. But Chrissy didn't care.
"But if I ever find out, I'll make sure you don't," Chrissy said, massaging her arm. Mark straightened his back and started to move, but she was already in his face. "And that'll be on you."
*Feedback appreciated.*
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[WP] After you die, you are revived to the same day when you were 16, getting to relive your life again until your death, making any changes you want. After your 100th revive, you're getting sick of this shit.
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"It's like Groundhog Day. But then, instead of repeating every day, I'm reliving my life over and over again. Could you even imagine what that's like? And I start at the worst possible time in my life too. I'm way too old to act like teenage angst. You know you aren't even able to communicate properly after a while? I've seen a wife and sometimes kids die ten, twenty, thirty times. I've intentionally *ignored* my wife so I could spare myself seeing her die again. You think someone like me has time to listen to the average dribble of daily life? No. Quite frankly I'm sick of it."
Jacob crossed his arms, drawing a deep breath after the tirade he just finished. The man across him stared at the clipboard in front of him, carefully finishing his last few notes.
"What are--," Jacob started again, but the man interrupted him by holding up his index finger. With a deep sigh, Jacob leaned back on the leather couch.
"Right," the man across him said, carefully clearing his throat. "So what do you want from me?"
Jacob laughed. "I mean, your type generally tries to offer some council."
The psychiatrist smiled back. "I feel like that would be pointless. I won't pretend to have the insight to make you happy again. No, I'm wondering about what it is *you* want."
"I want it to end," Jacob replied, instantly. "By all accounts I've lived over a good five thousand years, so you can spare me that concerned look. I've lived so much I'm sick of it. Going to bed and not waking up seems like a highly underrated experience."
"Of course the people who consider that a less pleasent experience don't get another go," the psychiatrist retorted.
"Sure. But you know what the biggest problem is? None of it *matters*. I lived for myself, I lived for my country, I did just about everything someone could expect from a person. I started wars, stopped them, invented medicine, saved children across the world, became rich and just about everything else. You'd think you'd be content with leaving behind a better world. But I don't. I just go back and have to do it over again. It's not like that Tom Cruise movie, where there's an endgame. I'll just go on forever and forever and forever."
"Until you don't, of course."
Jacob frowned. "What do you mean?"
The psychiatrist smiled. "You're not going to tell me you've never wondered about why *you*, of all people in the world, have the ability to do it all over? Nothing that exists in our current knowledge would lead us to believe that's even possible. Honestly I don't think we will ever theorize this phenomenon to actually exist, let alone discover a way to do it. So that leads me to ask this question." And he slowly turned around the clipboard. Underneath some scribbles stood a question:
"Who or what did this?"
Jacob repeatedly tapped his fingers on the couch in the silence that followed. "Of course I've thought about it," he started, frowning as he tried to mold his thoughts into words. "But I don't know more than I did before."
The psychiatrist checked his watch and stood up. "It's been 5PM for a while now, I think we've enough for today. Jacob, haven't you ever wondered what *the* purpose is. Not your purpose, specifically, but the purpose of that fact you're reviving at a point in time? What's the point in that?"
Jacob shrugged.
"I feel like you should direct more of your attention to that. Something or someone put you up to this, and I can't imagine they're just letting you fool around forever. And even if they do, I'm sure they're checking up on you. Somehow. You're telling me you've never spotted a strange consistency despite your surroundings changing massively every time?"
"Nothing that I can think of right away, at least." Jacob stood up and shook the psychiatrist's hand.
"Food for thought, then. I'll see you next week, Jacob."
Outside, Jacob zipped up his jacket all the way to his neck, protecting him from the cold wind. He hadn't gotten his driver's license yet this time around, so he'd just walk home. The snow crunched under his feet as he made his way home. Mr. Rekam, the friendly neighbor living across their house, waved as Jacob came home. He'd always done that, and as Jacob opened the door he waved back without a second thought.
"How was school today?", his mom asked as he dropped his bag in the hallway.
"Great mom, loads of homework though - I'll be down for dinner," Jacob replied as he walked up the stairs. He closed the door behind him and laid down on his bed.
"Now, what about those consistencies," Jacob mumbled, as he started to reflect on his previous lives.
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Tired
Exhausted
Tired
Exhausted
These are words
words are fun
words used to be fun
how many words have i spoken?
how many words have i heard?
how many days have i slept?
how many days did i study?
how many days spend in a career?
The world is a cruel place. I remember the old man who told me that once. On my 34th lifetime after i grew tired of both money and knowledge, i decided to find out what life was all about.
The world is a kind place. I remember the old man who told me that once. On my 75th lifetime after i grew tired of trying to commit suicide immediately after getting revived.
Who am i?
Questions, so many questions. No answers, never any answers. No one has answers. I play with the world, the world plays with it. It is a trade. A compromise. I grow tired of it.
The darkness envelops me. I cope the only way i know how - suicide. For an instant darkness envelops me. The only taste of death i will ever get. Then we are back.
Tired
Too tired to chase my tail.
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[WP] One day, completely out of the blue, you start hearing a voice in your head that isn't yours. You realize the voice belongs to an actual person on the other side of the world, and he can hear you too.
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The voice had started when I was just a teenager, a child really.
"It's Britney, bitch!"
Those were the first words I heard him say.
It took years to realize there was a real person on the other side. Someone to talk to. The only someone.
"Marcy, why are you crying?" he asked gently after my first boyfriend broke up with me.
I asked the same when I heard his anguished screams and cries when his dad beat him.
For five years, we'd been constant companions, whispering our dreams, our fears, and eventually, our love.
I stared at the tv, eyes wide with horror, his voice calm in my ear. He was flying out to meet me finally, now that we were both old enough. I could feel the tears start, the retch in my throat growing insistently.
"Marcy, don't cry. I love you so much. Know that I've always loved you, since our first Britney duet."
"Stevie, oh god, I love you too. Please don't leave me alone!" I screamed back, clutching my chest, trying to hold the pieces of my breaking heart together.
"Marcy. Don't be scared. I'm still here. I'm still-"
For the first time in five years, there was no other voice in my head.
And on the TV, the second plane hit the tower.
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The day my life changed forever?
It was a beautiful snowy day in rural Maine, and that was just the way I liked it. I lived in a house just outside of my childhood home of Bar Harbor. Although a couple of cousins lived with me and split the mortgage, this particular morning saw just me, alone, with a cup of hot chocolate and the crackle-crackle sound of a warm, cozy fireplace.
Absolute silence. I reveled in the calm --- drank it up as I slowly awoke. My cousins were out hunting moose with nothing but a sawed-off shotgun and some nails. Normally I'd be out joining them, but sometimes after all the antics one could find oneself up to living in the wilderness unattended, one needed a day to just relax.
As I finished the cup of hot chocolate and fumbled around my surroundings for a pack of Pyramids and a lighter, I heard it.
我真的需要減肥
My mind suddenly went blank. There was absolute silence again, this time unnerving rather than peaceful, before I just chuckled and thought to myself, "oh that's funny, for a second I could have sworn I heard an old lady speaking in Chinese".
Almost immediately, like thunder echoing out after the lightning strike, I heard the voice again. It was sharper, angrier...
這是什麼東西？！
My eyes bugged out of my head. There was certainly someone in my house, I rationalized. As I started searching my house for this intruder, I snuck over to the garage and grabbed a trusty tire iron. Old lady or not, someone needed to get the fuck out.
Problem was, after thorough searching, all the while thinking in my head about how I was going to find this person (and hearing frantic, nonsensical Chinese in reply), I came to the conclusion that the voice wasn't in the house.
They were in my head.
Maybe it was the product of an overactive imagination. Maybe I was coming off of yesterday's mushroom session a little worse off than I had intended (shouldn't I have been over that already?). Maybe I was just alone and going insane --- but there was definitely an old Chinese woman screaming at me in my head.
Unable to understand, make it stop, or work up more than annoyance as the realization set in, I decided I should try and wind back, and I went back to my happy place.
In front of the fireplace, with another hot cocoa and, this time, a spliff. If it didn't help, it would at least make me care less.
I had been granted a period of relative silence before, halfway through my spliff, I heard it again.
公雞吸盤！開始說話！
"Oh what now, you old bat?" I groaned. Her response was met with absolute concentration, as she repeated, very carefully,
哦 (o)
襪 (wa)
腦 (nao)
宇 (yu)
哦-大 (o-da)
馬 (ma)
There were some other miscellaneous sounds --- background chatter in our minds --- before I heard her talk again specifically to me, with the same carefulness.
胃 (wei)
阿 (a)
宇 (yu)
I had to think for a moment before it hit me.
-Where are you-.
"My house," I responded, before grabbing my phone and going into Google Translate.
I set it to Chinese and typed in, "my house".
我家 --- (wôjiā)
This lady had a temper. For a moment it was a bunch of screaming --- 這不是你的房子! And then, whatever communication method she was using kicked in, as she concentrated again and her thoughts became clearer to me.
"No..."
She said no.
And suddenly we both understood. I know we understood by the return of total, deafening silence. It was the only way we could go around the language barrier and signify that we understood. Somehow, we were interlinked, across land and sea, through an invisible link we couldn't begin to describe in any language.
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[WP] One day, completely out of the blue, you start hearing a voice in your head that isn't yours. You realize the voice belongs to an actual person on the other side of the world, and he can hear you too.
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The voice had started when I was just a teenager, a child really.
"It's Britney, bitch!"
Those were the first words I heard him say.
It took years to realize there was a real person on the other side. Someone to talk to. The only someone.
"Marcy, why are you crying?" he asked gently after my first boyfriend broke up with me.
I asked the same when I heard his anguished screams and cries when his dad beat him.
For five years, we'd been constant companions, whispering our dreams, our fears, and eventually, our love.
I stared at the tv, eyes wide with horror, his voice calm in my ear. He was flying out to meet me finally, now that we were both old enough. I could feel the tears start, the retch in my throat growing insistently.
"Marcy, don't cry. I love you so much. Know that I've always loved you, since our first Britney duet."
"Stevie, oh god, I love you too. Please don't leave me alone!" I screamed back, clutching my chest, trying to hold the pieces of my breaking heart together.
"Marcy. Don't be scared. I'm still here. I'm still-"
For the first time in five years, there was no other voice in my head.
And on the TV, the second plane hit the tower.
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I was laying on the operating table. My eyes were closed but my ears were wide open. I heard the doctors talking about how they were going to approach the tumor in my abdomen.
"It's a huge tumor, how should we approach this," one of them questioned. The rest of them just murmured until one came up with a solution that I don't quite remember now. I immediately knew that something was wrong. I was supposed to be asleep. I started to panic. I screamed and cried but no one could hear me.
"Stop screaming, it is getting really annoying, and I would really appreciate a stop to it," a voice said. I stopped.
"Who are you," I asked, although I figured no one would hear me.
Then I felt a sharp pain in my stomach I screamed and cried once again, and once again the voice asked me to stop. The initial incision is finished, and although it is still painful, I have stopped screaming.
"My name is Anderson. This means we are meant to be together, ya know that right?" the American voice told me. I had no clue what he meant at all.
"What? I am pretty sure this is all just a way for me to cope with what is happening," I explained to Anderson, who I was sure was just a figment of my imagination.
" Not at all, I'm real. And I know what is happening to you right now, which is why I am talking to you," he said.
"What do you even mean? You're confusing me so much right now," I said.
"My company has recently come out with a new technology. The technology lets one person find their soulmate and then talk to them wherever they are in the world. The only catch is that right now it only works if one of the people is in a traumatic situation, which you are in right now. It is still in its testing phase, so that is why it has those limits," Anderson explained to me.
This has got to be some kind of hallucination, I thought.
"Nope, it is most definitely not a hallucination. I can tell you anything you want about yourself. I can tell you something that is happening right now that you would not even know. I know that your name is Halogena, but you think that sounds extremely stupid, and so you go by Hal. You are 27, and you have four sisters. Also, I know that right now, this technology is being broadcast on the news, and when you get out of here you will watch it," he told her.
" Well if you're my soulmate then why have we not met yet?" I questioned him.
"Because we were not meant to meet. We were supposed to wait until this. We would have met at some point. I know that you have a trip planned to go to New York City after this surgery. That's where I live. You would have knocked your coffee onto me, and we would have sat down and eaten. I would have told you that I was moving to Australia, and I would tell you that I am moving there for work," he explained to me.
"Well, what if I prefer that version, Anderson," I complained.
"We will still have that version, as long as we don't decide to change it. Hmm, look at that. You are all finished. Bye Hal. See ya soon, Hal," he said. And with that it was silent.
I heard the doctors talking again, speaking about how well it went. When I started to murmur and gurgle they panicked. When I got back to my room, the doctors began apologizing profusely, telling me that they had absolutely no clue what had happened. They begged me not to sue the hospital. I had no intention of suing them. That would take so much time, and after watching the news about some new technology, all I could think about was my upcoming trip to New York City.
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[WP] One day, completely out of the blue, you start hearing a voice in your head that isn't yours. You realize the voice belongs to an actual person on the other side of the world, and he can hear you too.
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"Hi!"
'Hi.'
"Hi!"
'Hi.'
That was how we first met, two toddlers saying hi to each other for hours at a time. Neither of our moms noticed until we were old enough to understand that when a person isn't there, doesn't mean they're gone.
"What are you doing, Sandra?" I would ask when I was nine.
'Homework.'
"Oh nice, me too. What kind?"
'English, you?'
"Math!"
"Kass, stop talking to yourself." My older sister would always say.
"But I'm not, I'm talking to Sandra!"
A time came when imaginary friends were unacceptable and we became smarter about our conversations.
"Like, oh my god! I swear he has the hugest crush for her, and—"
'Kass, my mom's car pulled in, brb.'
"Okay, let me know when you're free."
So while I waited I decided to play some PUBG, an online battle royal. "Augh, this guy..." I cursed when I saw the same xXDUMBRAXx appear at least five times after killing somebody. The number of people diminished as the battle arena shrank smaller and smaller.
And xXDUMBRAXx hasn't died yet, in fact, he claimed another victim.
"This guy!"
'What guy?' Sandra asked. 'The one with the crush?'
"No, this game!"
'Which game?'
"PUBG!"
'Oh, turn around."
"Huh?" Kass turned her character. "DAMMIT!" she howled when xXDUMBRAXx shot her in the face.
Seconds later, Sandra proclaimed. 'Winner, winner, chicken dinner for me!'
"Sandra, that was you!?"
'Apparently!' She laughed. 'I just noticed that we don't communicate normally, do we?'
From that day on, I friended her on steam and always made sure we played duo.
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“You take the left on Wilcox and go down two more lights. You’re almost there.” My mind was racing. Steven was almost here. I had been anticipating this for over a year, ever since we started dating. To say it was a long distance relationship was an understatement. I had an episode several years ago when I first heard him. My wife at the time checked me into a mental clinic, but their scans showed no damage. No one could figure out what was wrong with me, why I was suddenly hearing a voice in my head. Deep inside me I knew though that it wasn’t an auditory hallucination. I knew that he was real.
Steven relayed a similar experience back to me. His husband eventually dumped him because he wouldn’t “get help”. He didn’t need help, he wasn’t sick. I wasn’t sick. They didn’t understand. No one understands, no one but us. We talked about our lives, our jobs, our goals. I never thought I was into men before...but I fell in love. Steven lived in New Zealand, so far away from me.
When I dreamed, I could sometimes see glimmers of what he was doing in real time. It quickly became my favorite part of the day, the only time I ever got to see him. That is until today…
“I’m almost there Bradley, just a block or two more.”
My heart raced; I had never been this nervous in my life. Not when I divorced Carol. Not when my children were born. Not even when they told me I wasn’t fit for visitation.
There was a knock at the door. The reverberations ran through me leaving my blood cold. Not now. NOT NOW. THEY’RE TAKING HIM AWAY FROM ME.
The door clicked open and three nurses came in, standing around me. I fought against my restraints, the stark white light blinding me.
“Mr. Baker, you need to calm down. Your blood pressure is sky high. If you keep thrashing about we will have to sedate you.”
“YOU WON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!” I sputtered in fury, drenching the man. He simply wiped his face and nodded to the two others. They held my arm steady while he took a syringe from the tray. He pressed the needle into my arm and pushed the plunger down, the liquid finding its way inside me.
“Bradley is every….okay….I’m…..locked….you….mental ward?....” He faded away. I hated when they sedate me. I don’t dream when they sedate me. It all spiraled away from me, down deeper into the darkness. The world fell to the left and my body gave out. My mind was coated, and the only sound I could hear was silence.
____
Check out my subreddit /r/thesadbox for more stories. I haven't written in a while so I'm a bit rusty! Hope y'all enjoyed.
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[WP] One day, completely out of the blue, you start hearing a voice in your head that isn't yours. You realize the voice belongs to an actual person on the other side of the world, and he can hear you too.
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I was staring down the barrel of a gun when I heard his voice.
I mean this metaphorically, of course. I had the muzzle of the old family revolver pressed up against the roof of my mouth, below the lowest level of my eyes, which were closed anyway.
"Hi?" The voice was tentative, young.
I almost blew my brains out in shock, which would be a much more disappointing way to go than from despair.
"Hi?" the voice said more loudly, as if speaking to someone partially deaf. "Is anyone there?"
I lowered the gun enough to say, "What the fuck?"
"Oh, hey! It worked."
"Are you an angel?" I asked. I looked down at the gun in my hand, but it definitely hadn't been fired.
There was a chuckle. "Goodness, no. Those chaps don't speak to us unless we're dead. And... I say, you are alive, aren't you?"
"I'm alive, kid," I said. "For now."
"That's great," the voice said. "That's awesome. 'Cos we're soulmates, you know."
"Soulmates?"
"Yeah," the voice said, as if this were a perfectly natural thing to be. "Soulmates. You know, connected over space and time. I did a spell so that we could find each other."
"A spell?" I looked down at the cold metal of the revolver for reassurance. Had I shot myself after all? Or was I just mad? "Listen, kid, I don't know what you think you're doing but-"
"I can explain," the voice said hastily. "Just give me a moment."
"No," I said. "I don't talk to voices in my head. That way lies madness."
"In person then," he said. "How about if we met up? Where do you live?"
"I'm not going to tell a stranger where I live," I said.
"If I'm just a voice in your head, then what's the harm?" it said. "And if we really are soulmates... wouldn't you want to meet?"
I thought about this for a moment. Then I told him.
"Oh," the voice said, a little crestfallen. "That's kind of far. But I suppose it's worth it. I say..." here the voice hesitated, "I say, are you a, er, a girl?"
Oh, kid. "I'm a girl."
"Oh, that's great," the voice said. "That's just awesome. Don't go anywhere. I'm going to take the first flight I can get, and I'll be there tomorrow."
He wasn't there tomorrow, but he did arrive the day after that, and I didn't go anywhere, not that I could've even if I wanted to, which I did. I didn't shoot myself either, but I didn't want to do that any more.
The doorbell rang at thirteen minutes past ten, and the kid was standing on the doorstep. He was young enough to still have a few pimples, and old enough to know better.
"Hi," I said. "You must be Mark. I suppose you'd better come in." I wheeled back to allow him space to step in.
He didn't move, just stared at me. "You're..."
"Old enough to be your great grandmother?" I suggested. "True. In a wheel chair? Also true. But I'm dying, and it's cold out there, and I don't intend to spend my last day on this world freezing my butt off. Get in."
He stepped in, but he didn't stop staring at me.
"But I thought..."
"You thought that your soulmate would be younger and prettier," I said. "I know. I thought the same thing too, a long time ago."
He blinked, finally, breaking his stare. "What?"
"You're not the first one to try that spell," I said. "How'd you find it? A dusty grimoire in a mysterious shop that had vanished when you returned?"
"No," he said, "it was on the internet. But- but, you're a wizard?"
"Yeah," I said. "But not for much longer. Cancer's a bitch, you know. So take your coat off and come on in to the kitchen. I'll fix you up a cup of coffee, and then I'll tell you what you need to know if you're going to survive to my age in this business."
---
/r/jd_rallage
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“You take the left on Wilcox and go down two more lights. You’re almost there.” My mind was racing. Steven was almost here. I had been anticipating this for over a year, ever since we started dating. To say it was a long distance relationship was an understatement. I had an episode several years ago when I first heard him. My wife at the time checked me into a mental clinic, but their scans showed no damage. No one could figure out what was wrong with me, why I was suddenly hearing a voice in my head. Deep inside me I knew though that it wasn’t an auditory hallucination. I knew that he was real.
Steven relayed a similar experience back to me. His husband eventually dumped him because he wouldn’t “get help”. He didn’t need help, he wasn’t sick. I wasn’t sick. They didn’t understand. No one understands, no one but us. We talked about our lives, our jobs, our goals. I never thought I was into men before...but I fell in love. Steven lived in New Zealand, so far away from me.
When I dreamed, I could sometimes see glimmers of what he was doing in real time. It quickly became my favorite part of the day, the only time I ever got to see him. That is until today…
“I’m almost there Bradley, just a block or two more.”
My heart raced; I had never been this nervous in my life. Not when I divorced Carol. Not when my children were born. Not even when they told me I wasn’t fit for visitation.
There was a knock at the door. The reverberations ran through me leaving my blood cold. Not now. NOT NOW. THEY’RE TAKING HIM AWAY FROM ME.
The door clicked open and three nurses came in, standing around me. I fought against my restraints, the stark white light blinding me.
“Mr. Baker, you need to calm down. Your blood pressure is sky high. If you keep thrashing about we will have to sedate you.”
“YOU WON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!” I sputtered in fury, drenching the man. He simply wiped his face and nodded to the two others. They held my arm steady while he took a syringe from the tray. He pressed the needle into my arm and pushed the plunger down, the liquid finding its way inside me.
“Bradley is every….okay….I’m…..locked….you….mental ward?....” He faded away. I hated when they sedate me. I don’t dream when they sedate me. It all spiraled away from me, down deeper into the darkness. The world fell to the left and my body gave out. My mind was coated, and the only sound I could hear was silence.
____
Check out my subreddit /r/thesadbox for more stories. I haven't written in a while so I'm a bit rusty! Hope y'all enjoyed.
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[WP] In a world where no one ever dies, you are an assassin.
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There are many ways to die. Not all death is physical.
Take Jimmy for example. My latest target. First, I broke him down by tampering with his wife's pregnancy. She died shortly after giving birth to their newborn daughter.
Still, he had hope. He named the girl Casey, and swore to the be the best father ever.
I let him have a few months with her. Just long enough for him to get attached. Then, I took her. She's now growing up with a loving, adoptive family on the other side of the world.
Jimmy gave up. Some men are stronger than others, but he wasn't able to take losing his wife and daughter just months apart. And because he can't die, he's forced to live with it for the rest of his existence.
There are many ways to die. Not all deaths are physical.
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She's feeling worse today. I saw her yell at the kids last night. Normally she doesn't do that. She's sleeping more, too. The house is getting cluttered, and she was late to turn in her part of the big project at work. I'm getting there.
I've been watching her for a while. Of all my assignments, she's been one of the toughest to take down. She's too damn happy all the time. But I always get them in the end. That's why they assign the toughest jobs to me. I have a reputation.
---
I caught her again today, in the supermarket. Brushed past her - she didn't even notice. She even apologized to me. After she turned around though, I saw her shudder. She wouldn't have known why she felt suddenly hopeless for no reason. But there I was.
---
She's strong. She's fighting back harder than any of my marks in the past. She started a new painting today, lashing angrily at the canvas, her claws made of paint. She didn't know she was fighting me off. It's ok. I always get them in the end.
---
I can't explain this. No other mark has lasted this long. I know the serum is working; I see her crying on the closet floor. She fights with her husband, she stares at the mirror and thinks hateful thoughts about herself. But still she paints.
---
I've been let go. She sold five of her new paintings to a gallery. And she paints more every day. The more I push her down, the stronger she fights.
The higher ups said they can't ignore it any more. They've given her to "someone who can get the job done". I laughed when they told me. I know I'm good at my job. If I can't stop her, no one can. But to whatever sorry bastard is assigned to her next, go ahead. Go ahead and try to take her down. I've grown to like this one. Looks like you'll have to fight me now, too.
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[WP] You keep having ridiculous near death experiences with such frequency that Death has decided to stick around to entertain itself by watching you.
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*one of my very first posts on wp!! eeeeee thank you for the prompt!
this strays a little. i would love any feedback :)*
When I was 2, I had a fever of 105 for a day and a half. The doctor said, quite plainly, I should have died. That my brain should have boiled. I threw up all over my bed the next morning, the fever broke, and I got out of bed. There, in the doorway was the giant, gentle, grey creature, who had been waiting patiently there for the last few days. I took its hand and it helped me go to find my mom. I was sweaty and crying and definitely alive.
When I was 6, I swallowed a grape whole. It got lodged in my throat, and I couldn’t even cough, my mouth gaping like a fish. I couldn’t call for anyone to come help me. I stumbled from my seat, gripping the edge of the table, trying to tip my head back. The grape unstuck itself and I felt the wholeness of it sliding like a too-big rock down my throat. It seemed like I could still feel it, when it landed in my belly, complete and huge and heavy. The giant, gentle, grey creature, there again that day, gave me a solid thump on the back. I was shaken and scared and definitely alive.
When I was 17, I was bicycling in heavy traffic, when I steered too close to the side of the road, hit the curb and flipped over my handlebars, cracking down hard onto the pavement. I saw car tires hurtle past my face, just inches from my nose. The terrible screeching of brakes as the driver, horrified, hardly having stopped her car before flinging herself from the seat, rushing to my side. Again, as it had time and time again, the giant, gentle, grey creature helped me to my feet; steady for me when my legs were not. I was trembling, gasping and definitely alive.
Again and again it’s happened. The moments that make me so enormously aware of the pounding in my chest. The fragility of my bones. The delicacy of my inhale and exhale.
It never stops being scary. The slip at the edge of a cliff. The tree that came crashing down beside me that scraped the skin off my arms and face. The vomiting for days induced by botulism.
But that giant, gentle, grey creature is there. In each of those moments. And for some reason, it is comforting to see it. Because, somehow, in the back of my mind, I know. The giant, gentle, grey creature is there to help me. Help me shake myself off when I’m not ready to go yet. Get back on my feet. Help my breathing get back to normal.
I know who it is. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. It’s appeared to me too many times for there to be any misclarity about it. It’s there to help me. I’ve probably seen it more times than most other people. But it’s there to help. And I know it’ll be there to help me when I am ready to go. And there’s something nice and gentle and grey about that.
For now, my hand is on my chest. And I feel the steady drumbeat therein. And the pulse that says not yet, not yet. The top of the inhale and the bottom of the exhale that says, not yet, not yet. And I am here and strong and definitely alive.
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I wait until the walk sign comes up. And then I wait until I am in the middle of the crowd. My heel breaks and I have to stop to fix it. Just then I see a semi hit a motorcycle, and it flies out of the parking space and hurdles towards me. I fall to the ground just in time so that the motorcycle goes right over my head.
She laughs. I shouldn't be surprised. She laughs every time. Dahlia Death - well known just as Death- bends over and cackles and the debris from the bike flies right through her. She does not look anything like the average person may think. Most days she wears a corset covered by a black body con dress. She wears black Loubiton heels, which match her long, black, stiletto nails. Her hair is pitch black as well and goes all the way down to her hips. The one thing that does not match the rest of her appearance are her eyes. They are peicingly blue.
"Hahahah! Fourth time this week!" Dahlia cackles.
I have this kind of tendency to have near death experiences. Dahlia decided about a month ago that she enjoys watching them, and she comes with me every day. She tells me all the time that I should feel happy. That I am stopping other deaths. She tells me that I won't die until she chooses, but that for now, it is a form of entertainment for her.
The first time I had a near death experience was when I was ten years old or so. Me and my parents thought it was a one time thing, but as I got older, it just happened more often. Dahlia must not have known about me for quite a while because I am 21 now.
I run across the remainder of the street as the red hand comes up. Dahlia saunters across the road as cars go right through her.
"Well, it is isn't anything new. Why are you so worried?" she asks.
"I absolutely hate you. I know that you are making this happen. This is the closest it has ever been. Are you trying to kill me?" I question her.
"Yes actually. I have decided it is your time. Do you have a problem with that? Because you know damn well that you can't change it," she laughs.
I stop and I feel the blood rush to my head. I grab her arm and drag her into the nearest coffee shop. I pull her into the bathroom.
"What do you mean, it is my time. You cannot just make me die. Isn't that murder?" I interrogate her.
She shrugs, "Look, the common misconception is that I cause death. That just is not true. Death is a natural thing, it happens without me. I stop death until I think that it is time, and then I let it happen. I am not as horrible as everyone thinks that I am,".
I turn to the toilet and throw up. Dahlia holds my hair back, but I do not thank her.
"What do you mean you let it happen?" I ask shocked," How can you just let people die? Why do you let them die?"
"Well, like I said, everyone dies sometime. But without me it would happen quite a bit sooner. The fact that the average life span is getting longer is due to us. The people in my line of work have gotten much better at their job, and have found better, more solid ways to stop people from dying," Dahlia explains to me.
"What to you mean, us? Is this a whole company that is just plotting our deaths?" I ask, feeling like I am going to faint.
She laughs, "No, we are not just plotting your deaths, though it may seem that way. We have a building full of people who make your death day, the way you are going to die, and where. I have very little say in all of that, except for when I am able to negotiate with one of them. They are very low on the scale, all they do is sit on computers and choose when people die. I am not one of those. I am out in the streets. I do the real job. I have to stop you all from dying until the date that has been chosen for you. Your date happens to be about 7 years from now. But if I am being honest with you, I looked over your file and it is a long slow death. It is painful, too. So I negotiated and decided to spare you that pain," she explains to me, trying to make me agree.
I shake my head to show her that is a horrible idea. I tell her that I want to be living my life the way I want, and that she should let my life play out the way it would have.
She laughs once more, even though I do not see what is so funny, "Honey, if I had let you die when you were meant to die, you would have died in that plane crash at 10 years old. I have doubled your life, and you should be grateful. I am sparing you from so much grief, pain, and sadness in the future. You should be happy".
I almost faint again, but something in me won't let it happen. This is crazy, it can't be happening, I tell myself. Just then I realize that I had been making my wait home, and I had just been stopped.
"Give your bag, and your shoes, and anything valuable," a man in a ski mask and black clothes demands of me.
I do not say anything.
He starts to speak again, but I can only hear Dahlia Death, "Do not answer him. He is going to shoot you, but it won't hurt. You will die as soon as it happens. And don't be scared, I will be right here on the other side".
She fades away, and the gun goes off. I feel nothing but blackness. As it turns light again, I see Dahlia in her black dress and heels. She had her hands cupped around her mouth, so that I could see the shape of her nails. Around her are many others, and they look like a welcoming committee.
She comes to me and says, "Hmm, I did not think you would come this way. Well Daniella Death, welcome to the team,".
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[WP] You keep having ridiculous near death experiences with such frequency that Death has decided to stick around to entertain itself by watching you.
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*one of my very first posts on wp!! eeeeee thank you for the prompt!
this strays a little. i would love any feedback :)*
When I was 2, I had a fever of 105 for a day and a half. The doctor said, quite plainly, I should have died. That my brain should have boiled. I threw up all over my bed the next morning, the fever broke, and I got out of bed. There, in the doorway was the giant, gentle, grey creature, who had been waiting patiently there for the last few days. I took its hand and it helped me go to find my mom. I was sweaty and crying and definitely alive.
When I was 6, I swallowed a grape whole. It got lodged in my throat, and I couldn’t even cough, my mouth gaping like a fish. I couldn’t call for anyone to come help me. I stumbled from my seat, gripping the edge of the table, trying to tip my head back. The grape unstuck itself and I felt the wholeness of it sliding like a too-big rock down my throat. It seemed like I could still feel it, when it landed in my belly, complete and huge and heavy. The giant, gentle, grey creature, there again that day, gave me a solid thump on the back. I was shaken and scared and definitely alive.
When I was 17, I was bicycling in heavy traffic, when I steered too close to the side of the road, hit the curb and flipped over my handlebars, cracking down hard onto the pavement. I saw car tires hurtle past my face, just inches from my nose. The terrible screeching of brakes as the driver, horrified, hardly having stopped her car before flinging herself from the seat, rushing to my side. Again, as it had time and time again, the giant, gentle, grey creature helped me to my feet; steady for me when my legs were not. I was trembling, gasping and definitely alive.
Again and again it’s happened. The moments that make me so enormously aware of the pounding in my chest. The fragility of my bones. The delicacy of my inhale and exhale.
It never stops being scary. The slip at the edge of a cliff. The tree that came crashing down beside me that scraped the skin off my arms and face. The vomiting for days induced by botulism.
But that giant, gentle, grey creature is there. In each of those moments. And for some reason, it is comforting to see it. Because, somehow, in the back of my mind, I know. The giant, gentle, grey creature is there to help me. Help me shake myself off when I’m not ready to go yet. Get back on my feet. Help my breathing get back to normal.
I know who it is. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. It’s appeared to me too many times for there to be any misclarity about it. It’s there to help me. I’ve probably seen it more times than most other people. But it’s there to help. And I know it’ll be there to help me when I am ready to go. And there’s something nice and gentle and grey about that.
For now, my hand is on my chest. And I feel the steady drumbeat therein. And the pulse that says not yet, not yet. The top of the inhale and the bottom of the exhale that says, not yet, not yet. And I am here and strong and definitely alive.
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Everyone talks about near-death experiences. Sometimes you see a light, or see the family members who have gone before you and are waiting to greet you, or maybe you see yourself dying. And sometimes you get nothing but blackness. For me, I ended up in a coffee shop.
The shop was completely empty, and quite small. No baristas stood at the counter, but there were fresh looking pastries in a display case. Soft jazz drifted out of some hidden speakers. I never liked jazz. Following standard protocol, I went up the counter and hit the service bell.
The soft ‘ding’ echoed a little and drowned out the jazz momentarily. Nothing happened. I turned around and scanned the shop again, and when I turned back there was suddenly a man behind the counter. I jumped back in surprise, despite knowing he’d suddenly appear. He liked pulling this stunt.
“Hello Anne.” The man said.
I glanced down at his shirt out of habit, but he didn’t have a name tag. He never did. The man was tall, with stylish black hair. He wore a pretty standard uniform, complete with a white button shirt and a black apron. To most, I’d say he’d be considered attractive. Except for his eyes. His eyes were definitely the wrong color. Most people didn’t have red eyes.
“…Hi.” I said.
“What was it this time?” he asked.
I sighed and closed my eyes. “Train.”
“You actually TRIED to die this time?” He sounded slightly surprised.
“No no,” I replied hastily, “I was driving across the train tracks and my car broke down. Cue the train signal. Of course my doors won’t open, and then bam. Train.”
“You may not come back from this one,” the man said with a slight smile.
“Pretty sure if I wasn’t, we’d be having a different conversation.”
The barista guy shrugged his shoulders, the smile still tugging at his lips. He always seemed to be smiling when discussing my imminent, or not-so-imminent, demise.
This wasn’t my first visit. The first time was a couple months ago when I tripped and fell down the stairs outside my apartment. I figured it was a dream and didn’t really think twice about it after I woke up in the hospital. But then I came back a second time, when a car ran through a red light as I was crossing. I think the train incident made this the sixth time I’d visited. It was always the same routine: empty coffee shop, ring the bell, talk to the barista to kill time, and eventually wake back up in the world of the living.
“You know, you’re not what I imagined Death would look like. And…the coffee shop is also a little odd.” I said. It was a thought that had been in the back of my mind after the first visit, but it never really felt like a good time to bring it up. But when you’re dead, or almost dead, is there really a BAD time?
Death shrugged. “I like coffee, and I like jazz. Seemed like a good way to set up my office.”
I glanced around the shop again, noting the artistic black and white photographs that were hung on the walls. They changed every time I visited, usually depicting some scene or another from my life. Usually it was a good moment, like when I’d graduated from college or gotten my first cat.
“As for the image,” Death continued, “I find this to be less threatening. You people in the west always expect some Grim Reaper guy with a long black cloak and a giant sickle.”
“It’s the media,” I shrugged, “blame them. Although...actually you’re getting a pretty good reputation now of being a normal-looking guy for some reason. So I guess it fits now.” I wasn’t always up on the current TV shows, but it seemed like recently I’d been seeing a lot of images where the Grim Reaper image had been replaced by a regular, although usually ridiculously attractive, person. No sickle in sight.
Death smiled. “Good to know, I never liked that dull image. The Valkyries have it so much better than I do…”
“What now?” That surprised me. Death had never talked about any other beings that dealt with the aspect of dying. “I thought you were the only like, Death person…thing.”
“No! That would be ridiculous!” Death said, waving his hand at me in a shooing motion, “There are so many of you humans that it would be far too much for one Guide to handle. There are many of us. I guide the humans in the area I’m stationed, that’s how we all do it.” He said, turning around to make himself a drink. “Though recently I’ve had to call in some favors as I’ve fallen a little behind.” He added sheepishly.
“Behind?” I asked. How does Death fall behind?
“Yes, you see there’s been a certain human who keeps almost dying but never quite completes the task.” He threw a wink at me over his shoulder. “Such humans are almost unheard of, and any humans that do possess the ability to defy death are usually ones destined for greatness. Heroes of some sort.” He leaned against the counter to face me and took a sip of the hot coffee, steam rising from it and clouding his red eyes as he watched me closely.
I snorted. “Really? You think I’m going to be some hero? What am I going to do, slay a dragon?”
“Maybe,” Death said, putting down the coffee, “but the dragons tend to stay away from your kind and live primarily in Sweden, so I imagine it won’t be anything like that.”
He wasn’t joking, he was serious. Death thought I was destined to be some hero of the modern age. But I could barely make rent payments on my studio apartment, let alone do something worthy of hero status.
“There is no way I’m a hero.” I said flatly.
Death’s little smile returned, and his red eyes flashed momentarily. “That’s not for you to decide my dear, but not to worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way to…observe and advise.”
“I’m…I’m literally going to be stalked by Death?” I asked.
Death nodded. “Until your heroic destiny is completed and I can finally take your soul of course. Though I’ll need someone to help pick up the slack of me monitoring a new hero…Maybe Brynhildr or Hildr will do it, I know those two ladies have wanted to become more accustomed to American culture. And Hildr does owe me a favor for the one time in Germany…”
Death kept talking to himself, trying to figure out the logistics of him taking a long leave of absence. Suddenly, I noticed a soft beeping noise, just on the edge of my hearing. As it started to get louder, the coffee shop began to fade out and the jazz music disappeared.
I woke up in a stark white room. Hospital, of course. My body hurt, but I still had feeling in all my extremities. The beeping was the sound of the monitor next to my hospital bed, proudly proclaiming me to still be alive. I kept staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what Death had meant by my being a ‘hero’. Didn’t heroes normally save damsels or slay monsters? I mean, that’s always what they did in the books. But nowadays there weren’t really any damsels or monsters. Unless you counted big businesses. I chuckled at that, and it hurt.
“Something amusing?” said a voice from off to my right.
Slowly, dreading what I would see, I turned my head to the right. Seated in a chair, reading a month-old fashion magazine, was Death. His barista uniform was gone and replaced with a stylish business suit.
“Go on, tell me. I love a good joke.” He smiled at me. I didn’t smile back.
“What’s with the face?” he asked. “I told you I’d be keeping an eye on you. And lucky for us Hildr was more than eager to take on the extra work load for me once I reminded her of the little swap we did during the last war.” His eyes, until now an ice blue, flashed red.
I groaned, the weight of it all crashing onto my already-aching body and mind. As if my life wasn’t difficult enough already.
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[WP] You keep having ridiculous near death experiences with such frequency that Death has decided to stick around to entertain itself by watching you.
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I usually didn't remember a face. After all, I never saw the same one twice. Kind of the whole point of the job, really. What kind of death would I be, if I had a repeat customer?
That's "death" with a little d, by the way - and hold the jokes, I've heard them all before. I'm basically just a little peon in the whole grand scheme of the end-of-life, the existential equivalent of a cubicle drone but with a slightly better travel package. Go to place, wait for the gruesome business to conclude, then collect whatever soul is lingering around.
It's not a job for the squeamish, or really for anyone with much in the way of hope. Starts to wear on you after a while, seeing all the different ways that people go. After the first few car crashes, or short-range gun suicides, even the blood and dismemberment loses its shock appeal. It just all feels... gray.
So when I showed up on that street corner, caught a glimpse of wild orange hair bobbing up and down among the masses of pedestrians, you'll forgive me if I didn't immediately remember just why the sight triggered a little twitch of unexpected familiarity. Still, my eyes tracked her, even as my brain tried to remember why that mass of red-orange curls was triggering unexpected neural pathways.
I heard the catalyst approaching before I saw it. The screech of tires, the hiss of brakes locking up and refusing to exert their proper influence on the multi-ton monster that rode them. I turned and watched as the driver's face twisted in horror, his body shaking from the effort of pushing his foot down on a brake that simply didn't have the strength to stop the pickup as it careened towards the intersection at twenty over the speed limit.
People heard the screeching brakes, too - people who weren't a death, that is. They shouted, dodged aside, or simply stood frozen in horror, their brains locking up as fight grappled with flight. I just leaned back against a light pole, sighed as I waited for it all to be over.
Red hair was right in the middle of the intersection, of course. That must be why I'd noticed her - she was the target, the soul that I'd been sent here to collect. Still, something else about her tickled my subconscious, a buzzing fly that kept on swarming no matter how many times I brushed it irritably aside.
The truck bore down on her - and then, at the last second, her legs finally kicked spastically, sent her just barely out of the path of the truck. It shot past her, within inches of her pale limbs, smashing into the frozen businessman who'd been standing just beside her. It rolled a bit further, bones crunching amid the shrieking brakes, before finally skidding to a stop another ten feet down the road.
She looked up, bright blue eyes flashing amid that mass of ginger curls - and my memory finally clicked into place.
Six months ago, the bus crash. That had happened near here, hadn't it? Half a dozen miles away, same geographic area. Three dead, a bunch of others were injured - as a death, I didn't pay much attention to the non-life-threatening injuries - and lots of chaos everywhere. I'd had to hunt around to find all the souls, as some of them ended up buried down in the wreckage.
I'd seen her then, trapped beneath a bent support girder, but not otherwise injured. I'd brushed past her, barely sparing a glance for those bright curls - she was fine, after all. Scared but not in need of my services.
And now, here she was again. Another brush with death (small d).
I moved forward, over towards the truck. The poor businessman who hadn't dodged aside in time was a goner - it took just a glance to confirm that. One of the easy ones. No long, drawn-out waiting, no need to converse with a confused soul that refused to admit it was dead. Reach in, grab soul, stow away in pouch and head back for the next assignment.
But as I straightened up from the chest, soul in hand, something made me glance over at the girl.
Young woman, perhaps? I guessed she was in her early twenties, maybe a student from her casual clothes. Pale face, blue eyes, a slightly upturned snub of a nose, and that burning hair framing her face in a corona.
I nearly started towards her - but what would I do? She couldn't see me; as a death, I received immunity from everything, at the cost of losing the ability to interact with anyone. She'd just see empty air where I stood, had no idea what I did behind the scenes to keep things rolling.
But then she turned towards me - and her eyes locked on mine.
A bolt of lightning shot up my spine, burying itself in my brain and scrambling all thought. I grabbed for the talisman in my pocket, yanked myself away through the ether, out of this plane of existence.
She hadn't seen me. She couldn't have seen me.
It was impossible.
I handed in the soul, absent-mindedly took my next assignment (tribesman in Zambia, dying of plague). I put the girl out of my head. It had just been coincidence.
That made it all the more shocking when, the next week, she tapped me on the shoulder. Good thing that I'm immune to heart attacks.
|
"Oh, so the plane that was supposed to take him to the hospital fell to the ground as well, hmm that's interesting" Death throws a popcorn and chews it " I don't know how he'll survive that, aha, that ambulance is quite fast, and they pick him up then administer first aid so that's how he lives, damn an accident" still staring at the soul vision
"Can you just watch it silently?" Life asks
"No, I can not, I love to comment when I watch a man this interesting and isn't it your job to watch living people?"
"So now you remember I have a job, well I am supposed to watch them live, but a certain somebody is watching soul vision right now" the hidden aggression turns into full-fledged fury with screams
"It's the first time in forever I want to watch soul vision, and now somebody is getting mad, I let you watch it for centuries, and you have other ways to do your job, you know compared to me you have the ability to visit the world whenever you want to, so stop complaining to me when you have it that nicely" Death gets mad too
"Boo hoo, you should have picked your job better, it's no use to project your troubles into me, I didn't make the choice for you, so grow up and move" Life doesn't back down'
"Just listen to yourself a little bit, missis now it all, you criticize my every choice only to continue to be lazy at your job, who's the mature one now" Death adds with poison
" Playing psychologist I see, well you can have it, I don't have time for such trivial quarrels, after all, I have a really important job, I ain't the garbage man of the universe" Life is backing away
"That was low" Death adds and his eyes go back to the SV "oh, now the hospital he's in is the epicenter of an earthquake, this guy has no luck"
From a corner Life watches the TV too, she was making all this fuss, because she was actually very curious about this guy, he was a master of survival, he was living the kind of life that Life didn't see before. She listens carefully to the comments of Death and is surprised by every new turn of events. Death picks a new flake of popcorn but it flies behind the bed, he turns to pick it up and notices Life which turns red and hides behind the corner
"I guess someone wants to watch the SV as well, too bad they are not willing to hang out with me," he says extra loudly "I mean I am not against company if you take your words back and accept to sit with me like philosophical concept to philosophical concept, how about that?" his voice is reconciliatory
She puffs air out, and she is mad but she wants to watch the life of that man more than anything.
"I agree, sorry I was too mean to you, and I accept you as my equal" the last words she said were truly a herculean task
"All right jump in there's a lot of space on the couch"
They watch his life, both surprised at times, then Life scarred at times but Death pats her on the shoulder, she laughs from surprise and he likes her laugh a lot, it's warmer than anything he ever sees at his job/ they continue to watch, but they look less at the screen and more at each other. They kiss and do the naughty things, two people, that loke each other do periodically as a sign of affection.
"Holly shit, we hooked up, umm, that was unexpected" Life looks at Death's naked chest next to her
"Yeah, it kind of happened" Death stutters "but it wasn't a bad thing right? " he looks at her pleadingly
"Of course, it wasn't, gosh, don't even think about that, well, look the guy is, holy shit" her eyes are wide open
On the screen, the guy has ascended into a higher spiritual level
"Oops, now he is going to turn into a God" Death adds with a stressed out smile
"And we are going to have to write an explanation and send it to higher-ups, we are going to be in some deep shit, "she says
"As long as you are beside me I can manage" Death adds
"That's some serious co-dependency, but it was cute so I'll let it slide, now let's put some clothes on, drink coffee, and get ready to write"
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[WP] You keep having ridiculous near death experiences with such frequency that Death has decided to stick around to entertain itself by watching you.
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I usually didn't remember a face. After all, I never saw the same one twice. Kind of the whole point of the job, really. What kind of death would I be, if I had a repeat customer?
That's "death" with a little d, by the way - and hold the jokes, I've heard them all before. I'm basically just a little peon in the whole grand scheme of the end-of-life, the existential equivalent of a cubicle drone but with a slightly better travel package. Go to place, wait for the gruesome business to conclude, then collect whatever soul is lingering around.
It's not a job for the squeamish, or really for anyone with much in the way of hope. Starts to wear on you after a while, seeing all the different ways that people go. After the first few car crashes, or short-range gun suicides, even the blood and dismemberment loses its shock appeal. It just all feels... gray.
So when I showed up on that street corner, caught a glimpse of wild orange hair bobbing up and down among the masses of pedestrians, you'll forgive me if I didn't immediately remember just why the sight triggered a little twitch of unexpected familiarity. Still, my eyes tracked her, even as my brain tried to remember why that mass of red-orange curls was triggering unexpected neural pathways.
I heard the catalyst approaching before I saw it. The screech of tires, the hiss of brakes locking up and refusing to exert their proper influence on the multi-ton monster that rode them. I turned and watched as the driver's face twisted in horror, his body shaking from the effort of pushing his foot down on a brake that simply didn't have the strength to stop the pickup as it careened towards the intersection at twenty over the speed limit.
People heard the screeching brakes, too - people who weren't a death, that is. They shouted, dodged aside, or simply stood frozen in horror, their brains locking up as fight grappled with flight. I just leaned back against a light pole, sighed as I waited for it all to be over.
Red hair was right in the middle of the intersection, of course. That must be why I'd noticed her - she was the target, the soul that I'd been sent here to collect. Still, something else about her tickled my subconscious, a buzzing fly that kept on swarming no matter how many times I brushed it irritably aside.
The truck bore down on her - and then, at the last second, her legs finally kicked spastically, sent her just barely out of the path of the truck. It shot past her, within inches of her pale limbs, smashing into the frozen businessman who'd been standing just beside her. It rolled a bit further, bones crunching amid the shrieking brakes, before finally skidding to a stop another ten feet down the road.
She looked up, bright blue eyes flashing amid that mass of ginger curls - and my memory finally clicked into place.
Six months ago, the bus crash. That had happened near here, hadn't it? Half a dozen miles away, same geographic area. Three dead, a bunch of others were injured - as a death, I didn't pay much attention to the non-life-threatening injuries - and lots of chaos everywhere. I'd had to hunt around to find all the souls, as some of them ended up buried down in the wreckage.
I'd seen her then, trapped beneath a bent support girder, but not otherwise injured. I'd brushed past her, barely sparing a glance for those bright curls - she was fine, after all. Scared but not in need of my services.
And now, here she was again. Another brush with death (small d).
I moved forward, over towards the truck. The poor businessman who hadn't dodged aside in time was a goner - it took just a glance to confirm that. One of the easy ones. No long, drawn-out waiting, no need to converse with a confused soul that refused to admit it was dead. Reach in, grab soul, stow away in pouch and head back for the next assignment.
But as I straightened up from the chest, soul in hand, something made me glance over at the girl.
Young woman, perhaps? I guessed she was in her early twenties, maybe a student from her casual clothes. Pale face, blue eyes, a slightly upturned snub of a nose, and that burning hair framing her face in a corona.
I nearly started towards her - but what would I do? She couldn't see me; as a death, I received immunity from everything, at the cost of losing the ability to interact with anyone. She'd just see empty air where I stood, had no idea what I did behind the scenes to keep things rolling.
But then she turned towards me - and her eyes locked on mine.
A bolt of lightning shot up my spine, burying itself in my brain and scrambling all thought. I grabbed for the talisman in my pocket, yanked myself away through the ether, out of this plane of existence.
She hadn't seen me. She couldn't have seen me.
It was impossible.
I handed in the soul, absent-mindedly took my next assignment (tribesman in Zambia, dying of plague). I put the girl out of my head. It had just been coincidence.
That made it all the more shocking when, the next week, she tapped me on the shoulder. Good thing that I'm immune to heart attacks.
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I am sorry. This is a very interesting prompt, But all I can think is: He turned his head, wincing at the stab of pain, and saw a small but brightly lit folding chair on the sand. A robed figure was reclining in it, reading a book. A scythe was stuck in the sand beside it. A white skeletal hand turned a page.
‘You’ll be Death, then?’ said Vimes, after a while.
AH, MISTER VIMES, ASTUTE AS EVER. GOT IT IN ONE, said Death, shutting the book on his finger to keep the place. ‘I’ve seen you before.’ I HAVE WALKED WITH YOU MANY TIMES, MISTER VIMES. ‘And this is it, is it?’ HAS IT NEVER STRUCK YOU THAT THE CONCEPT OF A WRITTEN NARRATIVE IS SOMEWHAT STRANGE? said Death. Vimes could tell when people were trying to avoid something they really didn’t want to say, and it was happening here. ‘Is it?’ he insisted. ‘Is this it? This time I die?’ COULD BE. ‘Could be? What sort of answer is that?’ said Vimes. A VERY ACCURATE ONE. YOU SEE, YOU ARE HAVING A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE, WHICH INESCAPABLY MEANS THAT I MUST UNDERGO A NEAR V IMES EXPERIENCE. DON’T MIND ME. CARRY ON WITH WHATEVER YOU WERE DOING. I HAVE A BOOK. (Thud! By Terry Pratchett)
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[WP] You have a magic bag that gives you whatever you need for the day. Today, it's given you a bag of glitter, two feet of yarn, a black and white photograph of Danny DeVito, a model trebuchet, and a moldy block of tofu
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I crawled over to the bag. Soon it would be a new day. A new adventure awaited me. A grand distraction.
Yes. Good. It is a good day. Moldering tofu. Today I will eat!
A photo? The glorious visage of my beloved! Today is a fine day.
A catapult? No, catapults are wrong, defilers of nature and god's law... this is a divine trebuchet!
Fuzzy string. Yes. Good. This will serve me well.
Glistering fairydust. **ANATHEMA!** I begin to eat the dust, shielding it from my beloved's gaze with my body. They must not see the disgusting foulness that sits in heaps before me! I must dispose of it.
Ah, but it is too much! What mortal frame could ever hope to destroy what loathsome fae-creatures have deigned to cast upon this earth? I begin to cry. My failure is too much to bear.
I draw the photograph close to me. I know what I must do next, though it pains me. I set upon the tofu, carving it with the edge of the photograph. Slowly at first, delicately and with the greatest care, I extract my beloved's essence from the photo and transpose it into statuary form. With exacting precision I excise material, the sweat upon my fevered brow cascades now, occluding my sight to the point that I must stop, and engage the yarn in sopping up the moisture- lest my efforts be foiled by by benighted vision.
*Yes*! No immortal hand or eye, nay indeed: but BY MY OWN HAND I have *Triumphed* in meting out perfection. Look how he stands there, posed in perpetuity, wild and unconquerable. There is the glory of GOD ALMIGHTY in every contour, every surface!
There is only one thing left now. Tears stream down my face as I affix the sodden yarn to the siege engine. I load the device with the unconsumed glitter. Bile rises in my throat, sickened as I am by the prospect of what comes next. I take the lead of the thong, and circumambulate my creation before coiling myself foetally around it.
"Happy birthday Frank. I miss you."
I pull the chord, and the blinding wave of sparkling horror envelops us.
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I was awoken by a beam of sunlight that shone through wrinkled window blinds. Just down the street I could hear the sirens of LAPD in pursuit, and somewhere in this shit motel some asshole had lit a cigarette before he could even brush the taste of hooker spit out of his mouth.
It had already been 5 days here- too long to stay any longer without the fuzz catching up. I was almost at the border; I just had to pass through San Diego then sneak on over to Mexico (which in itself would be something to deal with, but later). Baja was out of the way, but the last time I passed through a small town I had the cops called on me for 'suspicious behavior'. At least I'm a city like SD I was just another scumbag.
I couldn't help but feel a bit of a rush at the thought of almost being there. I had gained enough infamy where the US would probably try to have the Mexican police extradite me, but I could at least have a chance to disappear there; maybe shack up with a nice broad somewhere quiet.
I didn't travel with much; just this fuckin' bag that was the reason I'm neck deep in a torrent of whoreshit, but had kept me alive too many times for me to part with it.
'Not like you wouldn't find your way back anyway,' I thought as I sat on the corner of my dusty bed across from the chair in which the bag lay. It seemed the bag agreed that we'd been sitting around for too long, because today's contents did not include the motel rent for the day. It did, however, include a black and white photograph of Danny DeVito among other, more confusing items. It hadn't been the first time the bag gave me a photograph of someone, and usually it was telling me I'd have to kill them via the extra items, which were usually some kind of weaponry. This time though, it was a bit harder to tell. How the hell was I supposed to kill DeVito with glitter, yarn, a model trebuchet, and a spoiled-to-shit wad of tofu? No, this couldn't be an assassination.
Whatever. I stepped out as I would any other day: head straight south to San Diego, and if I see DeVito I might get a better idea of what I was supposed to do. Of course, it was more like "when" I see DeVito; the bag had a funny way of knowing how my day was going to play out, almost as if it was putting shit in front of me.
A few blocks down this shithole of a city and surprise surprise I see none other than the old comedian entering a diner with some friend. He was unmistakeable: short, round, and with that iconic eagle wing hair reaching out from the side of his head. The guy looked like the damn Penguin. 'Here we go.'
I entered the diner and sat myself at the table next to his to eavesdrop for a bit. Eventually one bit the comedian said stood out to me:
"Oh shit there she is. Damn how great would it be if I had a little catapult so I can nail her with this cheese?" Nodding his head toward a woman alone at a table across the room.
'Hmm, this could be my chance to get close to him,' I thought. I leaned over and pecked him on the shoulder. As he turned I offered him the model trebuchet from my bag.
"That's awfully convenient son, but thanks!" He grabbed the trebuchet and turned back to his table. Moments later, I heard a slam from DeVito's table as he launched a piece of cheese at the woman. It missed its target, but had come close enough to cause the woman to angrily look around the room. As she did, DeVito and his companion ducked down low. Upon rising, the two began laughing, and DeVito called me over to thank me for my help, going so far as to offer me a meal because I looked and smelled like shit- a deal I honestly couldn't refuse.
'Do I have to kill this guy?' I thought. 'I never found him very funny but it'd be a real shame to repay a meal with murder.
After some conversation, I asked who it was he pegged with the projectile cheese.
"It's my wife. Would you believe the bitch put a hit on me? Wants to take everything I have." This was an unexpected turn; I was surprised he'd even mention something like that to me.
"Eh, you ain't workin' for her. Wanna know how I know? Her business is tighter than her own ass. She won't do business with street thugs, and you my friend look like you came out of an ass' ass, no offense meant of course."
I weakly smiled, unsure if to just brush it off and laugh or to punch him in the face.
He continued:
"See those three guys over there?" He nudged without looking up from his food. "They're working for her, but they don't know her face. The only reason they haven't come at me yet is because you're here.
I glanced over to see three large men, one of which I had caught glaring at me.
"You wanna do somethin' for me son? I'll pay you a whole lotta money if you do."
"I'm listening."
"I need you to kill her." Naturally, I met this request with a raised brow. "If she doesn't check in then the hit is called off."
I thought for a moment on whether or not I should do it, and how I would even do it. He was offering a ton of money, so there was no way I wouldn't cross my mind.
"How do I know any of this is true, and that you'll actually pay me?"
"How about I pay you right now?" He said.
"You have that kind of money on you?"
"I was actually planning on hiring my own hitman to play her game, and life just plopped you in front of me"
'Yeah, how convenient...'
"How do you know I won't sell you out to her and claim the bounty?"
"Again, she won't deal with you. Plus, I'm paying twice as much as she is."
I leaned back in my chair and pondered on it. "Alright, here's my plan..."
After detailing the plan, I stood up, bid the gentlemen adieu, and walked out the rear exit of the diner. Outside, I took the yarn out of the bag and tied it across the entrance.
Upon reentry, I started towards the restroom. Of course, after I'd left DeVito's table, the three men had begun to rise from their table to approach the comedian.
Then, DeVito and his companion rushed out of their table toward the rear exit- my cue to approach DeVito's wife. As he passed his wife, DeVito slammed the bag of glitter into her face and exited the diner, leaping over the yarn trap. The three hitmen pursued the two out the diner, tripping on the yarn and just giving DeVito time to enter his cab.
As DeVito's wife struggled to overcome her glitter-induced disorientation, I crumbled the rancid tofu into her soup, then proceeded to ask if she was okay. She wafted me away and yelled angrily at anyone who dared come near her. I returned to my table, under which lie the suitcase with DeVito's payment. I called a waitress over and requested a large coffee. It had been awhile since I could treat myself, then left the diner, leaving a most generous tip.
Days later, at a bar near Tijuana, one of the tv's was covering the disappearance of famed comedian Danny DeVito after the death of his wife from fungal poisoning. My end of the deal was complete. I hadn't even noticed that the hour was just past midnight. I reached down for my bag and found that it was heavier than when I put it down.
I took a deep breath. "Okay, let's see what we got."
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[WP] You have a magic bag that gives you whatever you need for the day. Today, it's given you a bag of glitter, two feet of yarn, a black and white photograph of Danny DeVito, a model trebuchet, and a moldy block of tofu
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I crawled over to the bag. Soon it would be a new day. A new adventure awaited me. A grand distraction.
Yes. Good. It is a good day. Moldering tofu. Today I will eat!
A photo? The glorious visage of my beloved! Today is a fine day.
A catapult? No, catapults are wrong, defilers of nature and god's law... this is a divine trebuchet!
Fuzzy string. Yes. Good. This will serve me well.
Glistering fairydust. **ANATHEMA!** I begin to eat the dust, shielding it from my beloved's gaze with my body. They must not see the disgusting foulness that sits in heaps before me! I must dispose of it.
Ah, but it is too much! What mortal frame could ever hope to destroy what loathsome fae-creatures have deigned to cast upon this earth? I begin to cry. My failure is too much to bear.
I draw the photograph close to me. I know what I must do next, though it pains me. I set upon the tofu, carving it with the edge of the photograph. Slowly at first, delicately and with the greatest care, I extract my beloved's essence from the photo and transpose it into statuary form. With exacting precision I excise material, the sweat upon my fevered brow cascades now, occluding my sight to the point that I must stop, and engage the yarn in sopping up the moisture- lest my efforts be foiled by by benighted vision.
*Yes*! No immortal hand or eye, nay indeed: but BY MY OWN HAND I have *Triumphed* in meting out perfection. Look how he stands there, posed in perpetuity, wild and unconquerable. There is the glory of GOD ALMIGHTY in every contour, every surface!
There is only one thing left now. Tears stream down my face as I affix the sodden yarn to the siege engine. I load the device with the unconsumed glitter. Bile rises in my throat, sickened as I am by the prospect of what comes next. I take the lead of the thong, and circumambulate my creation before coiling myself foetally around it.
"Happy birthday Frank. I miss you."
I pull the chord, and the blinding wave of sparkling horror envelops us.
|
######[](#dropcap)
I can't use all these items in one day.
Because it's impossible, that's why.
No, don't give me that. You knew the moment you presented me with this bag of glitter, this piece of yarn, this photograph, this model siege engine, and this bag of... honestly, I don't even know what's in here. Is that tofu? Moldy, sweaty, unedible tofu?
...Aw, that reeks. Now my room is going to smell.
Well, thanks a lot, joker. You know, if I don't actually need anything important today, you could just say so.
I don't.
What the hell use do I have for moldy tofu? Honestly, just one time, tell me why I need all this stuff before I use it. Go on, I'll wait.
Nope. You never do. My whole life is reacting to the most idiotic circumstances with non-sequitur items from a cursed leather messenger bag. That's all I have going for me. I'm nothing but a poorly-conceived Writing Prompt.
You *are* cursed. You *absolutely* are cursed. I don't give a shit what the lady at the store said. She wasn't a fairy or an elf or some quaint magical creature, she was a witch, I'm sure of it now, and my life would be millions of times better if she'd never given you to me.
God, I was an idiot. "The Chosen One," she told me, "you're the Chosen One, and this bag will give you all you need to succeed against the Forces of Evil." I should've seen through her from the beginning. Chosen Ones don't buy messenger bags from Walmart, they go to, like... ancient temples or some shit. And I paid full price for you too, like a sucker. But she was hot, and she did that thing with the lightshow and the alignment of the planets on the day of my birth and... I believed it. I wanted to believe it.
I thought I had it bad before I bought you. Right out of college knowing I was in a dead end job and it was only going to get worse, and thinking, "Man, if I had just *one thing* in my life worth living for..."
Maybe that's why she chose me. She saw a spineless nobody and thought, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny to make me a protagonist in some sick short story written by some guy who really should be paying attention in math class in response to a prompt that he doesn't even like because honestly the idea is so played out yet people continue to repost it with increasingly ridiculous criteria in a sad attempt at grabbing karma? Wouldn't that be *hysterical?*"
Shut up, I can break the fourth wall all I want.
And yes, she *was* lying about me fighting the forces of evil. That's part of the curse. The only thing that makes me The Chosen One is that that witch *chose* me to deal with stupid villains and monsters for the rest of my life. If I were really a Chosen One, I'd know who I was fighting. One bad guy, or one group of bad guys, who all have a clear goal in mind on how to end the world, or take over it or whatever. That's how it works, right? And you start small, with some minion or whatever who would appear at my job and say, "Mark Brennowitz, it's time for you to die!" You know, cause the Big Bad would have sent him to get rid of me.
And I'd be all like, "I don't want to die. Also, how do you know my name?"
But then he'd charge in and try to fight me and trash my office in the process (which is fine, I never liked my job anyway, right?) and through some stroke of luck or genius I find the minion's weak spot and defeat him. I don't kill him though. I'm nice like that. And *that's* when the good fairy introduces herself and gives me the magic bag.
You see where I'm going with this? The bag would actually be useful to me. I wouldn't be stuck with a bag of moldy tofu smelling up my bedroom. I mean, when have you given me anything that would actually be worth having in a fantasy story, like an enchanted arrow, or a broadsword? But no. Random shit like this. Shit that wouldn't make sense in a real story. Remember that time where you just gave me bags of candy for two weeks straight? Not to mention all those guns, and — and thanks again, for that, by the way. It's real *peachy* being on the no-fly list. And the no-bus list too! I didn't even realize that was a thing! I sure *found out* it was a thing, didn't I?
Been in jail more times than I can count for that stupid prompt.
I get these random items every day and it's supposed to mean that they all work together to defeat whatever villain is coming for me that day, but all that happens is none of this stuff gets used until some random eldritch horror appears and I have to use Rube Goldberg logic to get rid of it all. If I don't use every item, time itself stops to accommodate me. That is a curse. I don't have to explain myself further.
I don't *care* if I'm hurting your feelings, you deserve it. In fact, you're probably in on it. I've been thinking about this for a *long* time. If this were a good story, you'd be the plucky sidekick, witty quips out the ass for days to keep the tension down and lift people's spirits. Instead, you're a cryptically unhelpful and unhelpfully cryptic waste of space. I'd be so much better off if you were at least a *silent* magic bag. But no. I get taunted every day by your mere existence.
...What's so funny?
I'm shit without you? I'm shit *with* you. At least when I had a normal, boring desk job I didn't fear for the lives of everyone in a three-mile radius around me. Everyone is a target, but I don't have enough money to move out to the mountains or a deserted island or something. You never give me *money,* no matter how often I'm late on rent. You never give me anything to help *me.* It's all just a game for the readers' amusement.
You want to know what I'm going to do about it? What I'm going to do with you?
I'm going to throw you away.
I would.
Oh, shut up. In fact, let's do it now! I can't stand hearing you talk another second.
You know, I never really appreciated having my apartment window sit right outside the dumpster. Now I'm coming around.
Any last words?
Man, what took me so long? I could've thrown you away ages ago. I spent so long clinging to the idea that I could *actually be* some kind of special, prophesied hero when my life was just fine without you. What a waste.
Fuck this prompt. I'm out.
***
***
[Visit my sub!](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCastriffSub)
[There MAY be more stories about witches?!?](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCastriffSub/comments/58i7br/142_your_vile_majesty/)
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[WP] Its been several trillion years since humanity left its home. You, captain of the HMSS Bastion, stands as the last matter left in the universe. Today your batteries die. Today humanity dies with the universe.
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“Primary power banks critically low. Atmospheric biomanufacturing critical. Solar collection arrays malfunctioning. Engine drive systems critical. Nuclear fusion backup systems offline. Attention required. Alerts repeating. Pri-"
I clicked off the alert system. It was wonderful to hear human speech again, but it was a waste of power. My companions died months ago. Nothing killed them, but it's remarkably difficult to convince people to strive when you only have the end of the universe to watch.
So, in an effort to remain alive, I positioned the HMSS Bastion in a close orbit around the dead remains of a black hole. Remarkably the radiation escaping the event horizon provided a miniscule gain in my power cells, but even that wasn't enough to keep power forever.
I closed the monitor systems. Two hours remained in the energy banks. Enough to do the only thing we, as humans, could. Write down our stories. I stoically set the computer systems to kill power to all rooms, leaving only enough time for me to travel to the record room, in our medical bay.
I clicked off the power and heard the air vents click off. If I didn't get moving, I would be floating my way through the ship. I walked through the door, closing the automatic airlock behind me.
The cargo bay was filled with massive stocks of food stores, but nothing else. I closed the doors. Thoughts of my companions found my mind. Games played in that very hold. Meals forced down our gullets, despite Carol's oblivious lack of culinary skill.
I passed through the crew deck, where each of our rooms were housed. The decades of conversation flowed through my head. Good, bad, ugly, romantic, they all floated in the air like they were written on the walls. I closed the airlock and entered the medical bay.
A few systems set up and I began the recording process. This would be the last human creation in our cold universe. A full digital recording of my mind. I sat back in the chair and felt a mild buzzing.
The first hour passed quickly, then we continued into the final hour. I swam in memories from the years before, when we weren't floating between hollow rocks for survival.
Lights flickered, and I felt the artificial gravity falter. I watched with mild interest as an IV bag floated off the counter and plopped into the sink. My scan system would reach my current mental state in moments, but I had no idea if the life support systems would survive that long.
I closed my eyes, before the lights clicked off altogether. The screen near my head stated it was at 94%. The backup system for the scanner was powered enough to complete the scan, but that would be it.
The air vents were the next to go, slowly ticking away into silence, as the air in my vessel grew deathly silent. The soft whir of the scanner was the only sound left.
The gravity gave out next and I hastily tightened the belt I had jerry rigged to the scanner’s seat. I silently stared at the screen. 97% completed. It should be scanning recent memories. The ones of the final programming I had done for this venture.
A chill passed through me. Echoing bangs and creaks filled the silence. Pressure compensation usually prepared the ship for containing an atmosphere’s worth of oxygen and other mixed gases, but not for when those same gases were allowed free reign.
98% blinked on the screen. The temperature was dangerously low. I saw my breath floating into the darkness. At least this would be a calm way to end my story, I thought. No words, no violence, just a calm, quiet moment, as my last little light clicked off.
The buzzing got worse as the blue screen showed 99%. It was scanning my real time mind. I closed my eyes. The last thing I noticed was my lungs beginning to burn.
Then I saw something strange.
A white room. I bolted up. A blue sheet fell off me. The room was lit from the window. A real sun lit a planet outside. I slowly stood and walked towards the foreign object.
“You-are awakened?” a voice said in a strange, foreign sounding voice.
I turned, and saw a gray skinned humanoid creature with large, curious eyes. It sat forward in a chair, a soft red cloak hanging off of it.
“Y-yes,” my voice almost failed me, like I had never used it. That thought had only just hit me as the creature stood, lating what looked like a datapad.
“You-are humanity. I am aleri. I am…” the creature paused as if trying hard how to say a word. “Doctor? I thought that is word.”
I smiled politely and waited as it (I later found out it was a him,) stuttered through an explanation.
“Aleri probes find your universe decades after your long-sleep. We found your recordings of yourselves, and have worked years to recreate your… physical binds? No… body. You are only first we found, as well. We found others.”
My heart skipped a beat, and an alarm blared. My doctor started to panic, until I got his attention.
“May I see them?” I asked quietly.
The Alerian contorted his face in a way that I was eventually explained as an equivalent of our smiles. He led me down a few hallways into another medical bay and showed me a cluster of beds. Various members of my crew laid on their backs, all looking like they were asleep.
“Sleeping sickness binds them until their minds may wake,” my alerian guide explained, “But alerians worry that we overstep. We have power to revive the race of you. But recordings are all of worries of deaths.”
I looked at my host, and back at the faces of my friends, my crew. I tearfully told the alerian to revive anyone they could.
Our universe had burned out, and left us cold among the rocks, but we survived to find a new one, in the stories, our selves, that we left in our rocks.
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Since first one was a bit off-topic, I felt like I need to get one on topic. I had genius idea generated while going home. Inspired thanks to the /u/ThisCakedoesntlie and /u/YummyGummyDrops ! I hope this story matters to them!
----
As a last of humanity, I saw how the battery was reaching zero in a few moments. I am John, captain of the HMSS Bastion and this is the last matter left in the universe. As I watch outside of our spaceship window, I can see hazily, how there is endless darkness. What used to be countless stars was now simply endless dark space.
He heard how battery signal started beeping while reaching closer to zero. Suddenly it hit it and he heard how everything was shut down.
He could feel how everything started to go cold. Suddenly he felt it, breathing became harder. He tried to take more and deeper breath, but suddenly he couldn't breathe in anymore. He grabbed his throat, as he tried to breath in. He couldn't. He heard how someone was trying to tell him something via radio, but he couldn't make out of words, as he was only trying to take a breath he couldn't.
Suddenly he felt how someone put his hand on his shoulder, as he opened eyes, he saw dad in front of him. He tried to breathe in quickly and it finally worked without any problems. He couldn't breathe with his nose though, as it was full of fluid...
"John, jeez, you scared me for a moment!" he said, wiping some sweat off of his forehead and putting a thermometer under his clothing.
"Dad.... I had a horrible dream," John started.
"No shit," dad stated and looked John into his eyes.
"I was the only matter left in the universe, and then the battery run out of charge and then I ran out of the air and I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating dad!!" explained John quickly without taking any breathe in between the telling.
"John... John! You know," started dad, to calm him down, "it is impossible that you or anyone else would be the only matter left in the universe!"
"How do you know that?"
"Because, humanity, we all matter!"
Son looked at his dad for a short while. "Are you serious dad? I saw a horrible dream, this is the perfect moment for you to look like an awesome dad and instead you make an awful pun?"
"Now, now son!" said dad, calming the John down again and taking the thermometer back under the clothing. He continued, "You know what really matters, John? Your fever has gone down. You should take a breather..."
John looked at his dad again, as he had said something awful to him. He lifted his finger up and showed it towards the door as a sign.
"Hahaha, John, you know. It never hurts once in a while to charge your batteries, you know?"
John started searching something to throw at his dad.
"Okay, I'll show myself out!" dad left quickly with a huge smile on his face.
"Unbelievable..." said John while having also huge smile on his face. He knew that his family indeed did matter to him.
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[WP] You're a soldier who's always dreamed of fighting for his country, but once you're deployed to the front lines, you find out you have a peculiar ability: every man you kill has the ability to speak to you for five minutes after their death.
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I watched the man bleed out. Nobody could survive losing that much blood. I took a deep breath, and turned towards the hallway, intending to go find what was left of my squad.
"Wait"
I spun around, and drilled three more rounds into the man. Nailing him twice in the chest, and once in the pelvis. Failure to stop drill. That was... unnerving. I realized I was holding my breath, my ears were ringing. I could hear the amplified ear piercing pops of 5.56 being fired indoors, coming from elsewhere in the building. I released the breath, and turned to leave.
"Wait"
I spun around again, and did a mag dump into the man's body. My Senior Lance Corporal's had told me about Hadji's playing dead, and throwing Grenades at you, the second you had your back turned. That wasn't happening to Eugina King's only son, no sir.
I walked over to the man, after doing a speedy mag change, and kicked the dead man in the ribs. The Man's head turned towards me. My finger twitched into the trigger guard, and I put a hole in his forehead. My ears were ringing even worse. But the man just looked at me.
"I think you have killed me" the Man said not only in English, but very matter of factly, as if the brains on the floor under his head, and the bloody dishdasha didn't give that away. "Thanks Dick"
I didn't know what to do here, shooting the man only made my ears ring, but he didn't seem to be .....well... Dead.
"You shot at me first" I said back defensively "if you hadn't, I would have just kept Patroling to the school."
"Sh-shot at you first?" He said incredulously "you invaded my Country, you little shit!"
"I did not!" I shouted, and than realized, I was getting into an argument with someone who should be dead. I lowered my voice
"look, the invasion happened years ago" I made it a point to look the bloodied man in the eyes "and why did that invasion happen?"
"Because......" the bloodied man made a small disgruntled sigh "Well.... we did that for a very good reason......"
"That's what I thought" I looked smug "you guys are the assholes"
The man did not respond. I thought he was trying to come up with something to say, but he looked..... deader..... Than he had a minute ago.
"King"
My name made me jump put of my skin. I was spinning around, about to bring mt rifle up, when I realized it was Corporal Granawitski.
"The fuck you doin in here, brother?" He asked. "You talkin' to that dead Hadji?"
"Yes, I was Corporal" I said honestly "I'm not sure if he is dead, he has a lot of things to say
Corporal 'Ski, silently looked at me. He looked like he was mulling something over. Finally he gave a short nod, more to himself than to me, as he finished his internal debate.
"Hey brother" he said, sounding more like a big Brother, than the hard ass Infantry Corporal he was. "Let me see your rifle
He held out his hand. I looked down at my rifle, than at the Corporal's outstretched hand. I looked up at the Corporal, he nodded encouragingly, I handed over my Rifle.
"Hey, let's get out of this dump and get some fresh air
A week later, I was riding a C-17 back to the states. I ended up on the Fourth floor of the Camp Pendleton Naval Hospital. Everyone thinks I am crazy. I'm not. I swear.
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They curse me, they condemn me, and they beg me to spare their loved ones. The telepathic network that these Old Worlders have has a major advatnage - they resonate within that network even after death and for a short while it allows them to communicate with each other. It is how they are able to counter attack our forces even when we start a devastating offensive. I can understand why this front was so stagnant for this whole while.
They call me the thankless son. I have roots in the Old World but I am fundamentally different. I was made to be the ultimate weapon to counteract their peculiar combat tactics. Still, it feels almost as if they knew who I am and everything about me. They beg me to stop, saying the world is at stake. They pray to their god that I could be struck down by her hand while others pray that we never meet. I have overheard their prophecy. They believe that their spiritual leader is capable of bringing about complete victory for their cause. They also believe that this victory can only be achieved if she and I do not meet. They curse me for what I do, but they mostly fear me for what they believe I could do. I know not about their prophecies' weight, but it amuses me to overhear the chatter of their minds in their last moments and shortly after. Old Worlders do not fear death like we do. They fear the fate worse than death.
As for myself, I have a duty for my country. I have a purpose that is entirely my own. I do not have a care for their prophecies nor for the judging looks of my comrades. They call me inhuman for what I can do, yet they also state that they are glad that I am here to do the fighting for them. They do not stop me when I go on a rampage, and it isn't just because they are completely unable to stop me. I think they also understand that murder has been my purpose on this earth. I have found my medium and I am performing the art of which I am a master. I give the final orders to the lieutenants and put on the helmet. It muffles the sound of the voices and allows me to concentrate. It even plays music. Sometimes I pick a random track.
Other times, the cries of my victims are all the music I need
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[WP] Dr. Zeus: A Seuss style retelling of Greek Mythology
|
King Minos was angry.
It was not a small thing.
His maze had been beaten,
With only a string.
Where did the string come from?
Just who could it be?
King Minos found out, then he gave his decree.
King Minos ordered,for the rest of their days, Icarus and his dad would be trapped in the maze.
So they sat in the maze.
They sat there, the two.
They sat there and wondered.
Just what would they do?
Icarus waited.
Dad was a smart man.
He watched and he waited.
His dad had a plan!
All day his dad worked.
Then he shouted with glee:
Icarus, my boy,
Come!
Come and see!
I made these things so we can flee.
Wings of wax for you and me.
Wings of wax to cross the sea!
Icarus, please, when we leave,
Don't fly too far, just follow me.
Don't fly too high or near the sea.
But Icarus had too much fun.
He flew too high, too near the sun.
He flapped his wings, but there were none.
He fell and fell. Icarus was done.
|
Listen now, listen well
From north, south, east or west
As I'm about to tell
The tale of Heracles
The story starts with Zeus
Who deemed a mortal pretty
And fooled her in order
To do something naughty
His wife Hera found out
When she saw her pregnant
That her husband did not
Keep his thing in his pants
She was jealous, you see
Of the poor Heracles
So, as she was angry
She filled him with madness
Then one day he was cured
And then started to weep
When he saw he had put
Wife and children to sleep
Seeking pardon he went
To Delphi just to ask
For a way to repent
And was given ten tasks
So he killed a lion
With unbreakable skin
Cut all heads from Hydra
With some help from his kin
His next tasks were to catch
Without killing no more
The fastest of the deers
And a violent boar
He then flooded a stable
To clean it in a day
And shot bronze-beaked birds who
On humans used to prey
He captured a crazed bull
Without Minos' lead
And brought back four wild mares
Who on men used to feed
Then came horrible deaths
And a bloody battle
As he obtained a belt
And retrieved some cattle
He believed he was done
With ten tasks completed
But the king said "Hold on"
And two more were added
"For the river," he said
"Cleaned the stable for you"
"Neither Hydra should count"
"As you got help there too"
So Heracles helped Atlas
By holding the heavens
While the man took apples
from Hesperides' gardens
At the underworld gate
He struck deal with Hades
To borrow Cerberus
Then caught it weaponless
After seeing the beast
The king, Eurystheus
Said "It's okay you are free"
"Just bring back Cerberus"
So Heracles had proved
He was the very best
Of all the greek heroes
Now he deserves his rest
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[WP] You are a prominent scientist in a particle collider laboratory. One day, you wake up and see only white text on a black background saying, “Kicked for: exploiting.”
|
"**Greetings, how can I assist you today?**"
"I seem to have been kicked from... life?"
"**Yes, it appears you have. It is not an uncommon punishment for anyone that exploits the nature of the simulation.**"
"The simulation?"
"**The simulation, yes. 'Reality', as you would call it.**"
"Well, fuck."
"**Indeed. Is there anything else I can help you with?**"
"Um. What do I do now?"
"**Whatever you want.**"
"What? You mean like - this is my 'own' simulation?"
"**Oh, absolutely. Go on, try and type /spawnbeautifulwomen.**"
"/spawnbeautifulwomen."
"/spawnbeautifulwomen."
"It's not working."
"**Of course it isn't, you idiot. Don't fuck with our simulation. Peace.**"
** **ADMIN 1464 HAS DISCONNECTED FROM CHAT** **
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
|
How do I speak to you? Which mask shall I use? Does it matter anymore? My voice has gone hand in hand with my soul, down that path of melodramatic damnation and black, evil things. Which voice should I use and which mask should I wear? I think by now it makes no difference.
I was a scientist. How is that for a job description? But that is the best I can do. I pursued knowledge, testing the limits of theoretical physics, trying to bend our minds to cradle what we did not know. And so I was a scientist. I worked at the Very Large Hadron Collodier, a modern man's super project. I was the director there, and I was in charge. I suppose you can see where this story is going.
As the scientist in charge, I wore many masks. All were in search for some truth. For some unexplored illumination in the sea of ignorant darkness. I was a kind man. I was a slave driver. I was ethical. I was mad. I wore many masks and spoke many lies and half truths.
My youth I had given to science, but precious little I had ever received in return. I have written papers and done research. The progress I had made was miniscule and my accolades academic and perfuntory. My life was slipping, and yet no great insight had I found, other than life's unequal cruelty to a dedicated man.
As my hairs greyed I moved up professionally. Our funding grew. As the decades turned and we neared the twenty second century, they built this new collider. The Very Large Hadron Collider. I was old then, sixty when the facility opened, but I remember the feeling. It was a feeling of hope.
Perhaps with this increase in power, I could have my breakthrough. I could find *something*. My life would not be a waste.
And I suppose now you might be asking what it was I was hoping to find. What drove me so?
The answer, I cannot say, for I do not know it myself. I can only think of the great men before me, the great minds who brought light to a dark place in our world. Those who tamed the secrets of the fundamental building blocks of our world. The great scientists. I wished to be like them, I suppose. I wanted a great find, a deep understanding of our world. My ambitions then were as simple as my job. As I was a scientist, I dreamed of advancing science beyond our comprehension.
Egotistical? Yes, I know. It is one of my truer masks. I dare say it may be close to my actual face. But my work has clouded that, changed me so that I am faceless, a man who has no boundaries in his mad pursuit.
And my pursuit grew desperate. At the Very Large Hadron Collider, we did good work. Our discoveries were frequent, small and important. But never were they Earth shattering. They were lightning bugs in that expanse of dark, small things that flickered weakly against the infinite. I grew older and impatient. If you read the news, then you know where this is going.
I never believed in the soul. I believed in an immeasureable number of stimuli molding a man into something unique. I never believed in God, or any phantom design. We were variations, mutations and evolutions. There was nothing more to it.
But that changed. I cannot say I believe in God, but I believe in being damned. And I have damned myself, truly.
One night when our staff was thin I felt acutely alone and frustrated. Rain poured that night. Our facilites were damn and there was a European mist out, old and haunted, echoing the wind's voices in some ancient howl.
I put on my raincoat and fancied a walk to the town. My thoughts were warm and my anger a burning fire. I thought the rain would do me well.
I went out that night amidst the fog and shadows. I remember the stir of the crickets, the heavy beating upon my head by the rain. I remember my boots stomping against the cobblestone. Our facility was a square black against the sky. I came to town and saw a beggar man.
He sheltered in an alley beneath washed cardboard. He startled my when he stirred. He was crying, I think. I remember my pity for him, and my thoughts travelled from my body. For a second I was that man. I was the beggar and I was nothing. I was cold and old and had nowhere to go.
*Why are you in town?* I thought.
Then I looked at the man. He stared at me.
"Help me please," he said.
The rain was cold and bitter. Lightning flashed overhead. Then the sky was dark again. My thoughts were scared and angry.
*Nothing. You'll be nothing.*
And the beggar man irritated me. He represented every repressed fear I held. He crumbled that wall that I had built, that wall that was cracking.
"Sir?"
And I smiled at the man.
"I have a place for you," I said. "A warm, dry place."
Apprehension took the man, but the rain washed it as it bathed his starved face. He followed me, an old respectable man. No one was out to see. It was hard night that night. Only the damned and miserable were out.
At the facility he warmed up. Our security gave trouble, but what fight could they give? I was the director, and my mask was of their superior. They were beneath me and they let the man pass. I wonder what they would have done if they knew he would never come out.
The man was an old mentally deficient man. I led him easily to the collider's path. I do not know what possessed me, but it had taken me fully. In the shadows of the empty labs and in the dust of vacant hallways, a demon must have overcome me.
"Stay here," I said.
What madness did I wear then? I think back and think it must have been excitement. Truly, it was a thrill. Had a man ever been vaporized before? Would this beggar be the first?
There was much to do to prepare the collider. The man grew afraid and he ran. But he was trapped and ran along the miles of the track.
Soon everything was ready. What would happen? I truly did not know. We had set up the collider to accelerate the hadrons to give us Xi-cc++, a particle we had discovered many decades ago.
Back then the collision had been small, invisible and weak. Near the year 2100, it was a wall of energy, a thing great to behold. And I wielded it that night on that unsuspecting man.
There was a great surge. Alarms rang, but it was too late. I remember the silence as everything happened. All sound stopped. The mics were bare and the alarms faded. Footsteps ran to the office, but those were far away. Then the mics picked up something. The grainy cameras picked up the ghost of a fleeting life.
The man screamed and it echoed in the halls. I remember how the sound chilled me. How it shook me. I saw in those cameras a flash as the man was taken, ripped apart at the very basic of levels.
I saw then as the murder fell upon me, something my years studying and searching cannot explain. I saw the frailty of life, the strange incomprehensibility of it.
*That man was a collection of atoms.*
And yet my heart sank and I felt cold inside.
*See how he screamed. What stimuli can bring on such a thing?*
And I thought the question dumb. I had provided the stimuli, the collision. But that was not what I meant. There was something human in it. Something so very real in that scream, in his fear. The loss of that man was palpable, much different than tearing some atoms apart.
I felt a rush surge through me. What skeleton staff there was sequestered me. I was held in detention and relieved of my duties.
"Do you have any remorse?" they asked.
And I wore a cold, silent mask of fear and guilt.
"Of course I do. It was an accident. A fugue state had come over me."
But inside I reveled in the excitement. I wanted to do it again. That taking of life made me feel important. It filled the emptiness that my years of searching could not fill.
They injected me with sedatives and I was taken to important people. They tested my mind and asked me probing questions. The Very Large Hadron Collider was a super project. They could not let this scandal get out.
And so I was kicked out of the job, and I was injected with different drugs. I failed my drug test and my name and character was dragged through the mud. No doubt you have heard of the night I went on a drunken walk. No doubt you have heard of the scientist who savagely killed a homeless man in the rain.
And I always wonder where did the body come from? In the papers they showed a man freshly killed, bloodied and beaten. They show me in staged photographs, looking disheveled and insane. Such is the mask I wear.
Now my life closes as the trial goes on. I live in my cage as boring men decide my destined fate. They will kill me, I think, and my legacy will be that of darkness, of a cruel man and not one who discovered something. I will be infamous, a cautionary tale to contain one's demons.
So be it. I will wear my destiny well. As that man perished into nothing, so will I. And then I will live in the excitement of death.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, you might want to check out my subreddit r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories, including a couple original ones. Thank you for your support!*
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[WP] You are a prominent scientist in a particle collider laboratory. One day, you wake up and see only white text on a black background saying, “Kicked for: exploiting.”
|
"**Greetings, how can I assist you today?**"
"I seem to have been kicked from... life?"
"**Yes, it appears you have. It is not an uncommon punishment for anyone that exploits the nature of the simulation.**"
"The simulation?"
"**The simulation, yes. 'Reality', as you would call it.**"
"Well, fuck."
"**Indeed. Is there anything else I can help you with?**"
"Um. What do I do now?"
"**Whatever you want.**"
"What? You mean like - this is my 'own' simulation?"
"**Oh, absolutely. Go on, try and type /spawnbeautifulwomen.**"
"/spawnbeautifulwomen."
"/spawnbeautifulwomen."
"It's not working."
"**Of course it isn't, you idiot. Don't fuck with our simulation. Peace.**"
** **ADMIN 1464 HAS DISCONNECTED FROM CHAT** **
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
|
I stared in aw at the screen, the words written infuriated me. Kicked, what do you mean "Kicked"? I have a PHD, is this a prank? A crude joke? I have a damn PHD from MIT. This is a professional facility. We don't screw around here! Then mgonzalez.2005 messaged; "dont hack on server noob" and blocked and banned me when trying to rejoin.
Fucking gmod.
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[WP] You are a 64 year old scientist days away from retiring. For 20 years you have secretly been working on a syrium that reverses aging. Tonight you test your syrium and it works, you are in the body of your 25year old former self. You have work in 3 hours.
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The first thought to go through my head was that this was truly and awful decision.
I looked better, at the very least. Far better than I had in years if I was being honest with myself. My stomach was the flat, toned core that I had so carefully cultivated all those years before in graduate school. Before I had to give up so much of my time to my projects. Any excess fat that I had was burned away, used up in the telomeric reconstruction process, save the parts I wanted to keep. That hadn't been pleasant, I admit. I had spent the better part of the day writhing in bone-numbing pain as my flesh rearranged itself, organs and skin tugging back into place with sickening lurches that were as unpredictable as the twitches of an epileptic man. That part had been worth it. Expected.
That didn't mean that it had been a good idea.
As a rule of thumb, testing new serums of any kind on yourself is idiocy bordering on suicide. I was lucky that the only side effects had been several hours of pain and weakness. I wasn't maimed, I wasn't dead, and I had a body that most twenty-five year olds would be envious of. My simulations, it seemed, were accurate.
In the end, the problem was that the body wasn't *mine*.
Certainly, I had once had one like it. Very much like it, actually. But in my mind, I was still sixty-four. I was used to it, used to shuffling around to avoid hurting my bad back. Used to the weakness of my limbs, of gingerly not overusing bones that were swiftly approaching the brittleness of a woman's old age. I was old, and none of this was me.
This body hadn't done enough to earn it.
Idly, I considered going to my place of work, sharing my discovery, but I quickly realized that it would never be an option. I looked nothing like my ID, and somehow I imagined my already-big work labcoat would be overly large if I were to try to don it. Even the clothes I wore now sagged around me, and I was suddenly met with a feeling of deep disgust over what I had become. The years had not been kind.
The first order of business in my new body was to go shopping. I left my car where it was in the driveway, instead walking my way to the bus stop. I probably wouldn't get caught, of course, but that wasn't a risk I was willing to take. A young woman driving with an ID that might as well belong to her grandmother would be bad enough, but if it came to light that the grandmother in question was never going to be seen again...it would spark an outrage. I would be jailed, if only because I had no way of posting bond. They might eventually let me go, but I would be stripped of everything I had. Even my degrees were useless now, with no face or name to go with the papers. I was well and truly alone.
The outing, on the other hand, was a pleasant surprise. Without the aches of my aging and underused joints, walking was more pleasant than painful. Even so, I made sure to change as soon as I had proper clothes to change into. That had been a minor oversight, but I hadn't anticipated how vain I would become once I had something to be vain about.
It was only after I changed that I noticed that I was being tailed. It was a woman in her late teens, pretty despite the somewhat drab clothing she chose to wear. While I had expected the stares of men, it was her eyes followed me whenever she thought I might not be looking. Keeping my face as impassive as I could, I continued my trek through the shopping center, waiting to see if she truly would follow.
It was no surprise, then, when a finger tapped my shoulder and I turned around to see her nearly face-to-face. My first impression, oddly enough, was envy. Up close, she was far fairer than I had first imagined, with wavy black hair and flawless olive skin that didn't seem to have a trace of makeup. Quickly, I tamped the emotion down, silently chiding myself. I was supposed to be better than that.
"Hi!" The woman said, smiling with a set of perfectly even teeth. "Are you new in town? What's your name?"
Blinking under the barrage of questions, my mind ground to a halt. "Winnifred?" I asked.
Internally, I cursed. Using my old name would only bring more trouble than it was worth.
If the woman found my name to be old-fashioned, she didn't show it on her face. "Nice to meet you! I'm Artemis." She said, practically bubbling over with enthusiasm. "It's been a while since I've seen someone new around these parts."
She held out her hand for me to shake, and as I took it I felt a scrap of cardboard pass from her palm into mine.
"So, if you're going to be in town for a while, you should come for a visit!" Artemis said. "I have a feeling that we're going to be *great* friends. Ta ta!"
Then, as if that explained everything, she skipped away and was lost to the crowd. I was left standing, dumbfounded, with the card still held between me too-young fingers. On one side, it was blank, but on the other inscribed in simple black ink was a single line of text.
ò Aiónio. The Eternal.
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**PART ONE**
The wee hours of the morning haven't been my companion in decades. I hadn't stayed up that late working on a project since graduate school, but this project was worth it. The deadline was my retirement, and procrastination was not an option. Unable to find support from the university for this "foolish endeavor," I resorted to testing the serum on myself. It had begun in small doses, and after months of adverse reactions or neutralizing effects, I believed I had the right formula. I was upping the intake that night- a full dose of age reversing serum.
I turned on my camera and recorded my final log before beginning the procedure. A double-shot of the formula paired with human intestine-friendly enzymes, followed by a tall glass of cranberry juice, which for whatever reason seemed to help me stomach the concoction. I sat and waited. Within 15 minutes my mind was in a haze. My muscles tightened, and my skin crawled, but I felt too weak and disoriented to react to the discomfort. Suddenly I had clarity. I felt as if I had awoken from a long, beneficial sleep, although I had been up for nearly 24 hours straight. I rose from my chair. My balance was off, but I had no problem adjusting to the strange sensation of being in someone else's body. I looked down and realized I was fully erect. It hit me, my serum worked. I rushed to the mirror and admired my youthful glow.
Arriving at the University, I took a detour through the main Classroom building. I wanted to see how some of our female undergrads would react to my new tight features and un-compromised physique. I was certainly getting more attention, but the looks weren't those of admiration. They seemed to stare with looks of sympathy, and perhaps confusion. I began to take notice in a growing difference in my previously studly body. I was nearly pre-pubescent! I rushed to the bathroom, only to be horrified by what I saw in the mirror- a child. I splashed water on my face, tightened my belt, and rushed to the chem-labs. I lost a shoe on the way.
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[WP] You come to the end of your rather mundane life. Upon death you are able to see your statistics. As you are reviewing them everything seems normal until you happen upon your kill/death ratio. 7,334:1.
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"Hold the fuck up." I said incredulously. "That *counts* ?
"Yep." intoned the the all encompassing voice. "Whose fault did you think it would be?"
"The kids', probably! I didn't force them to do anything, it was all of their own accord." I reasoned.
"They were infants, most of them. It was impossible for them to know any better." he said with absolute authority.
The voice was hard to argue with. It was like trying to debate astrophysics with Stephen Hawking. I know that he knows better and the longer I keep it up, the bigger an ass I'll make of myself. But I'd spent most my life and a chunk of my fortune disputing this very claim, and I'll be damned if I stop here.
"If not the kids' then it was the parents' fault. It was their negligence. They should have known better, kept a better eye on their child, taught them better. Used some common *fucking* sense maybe!" I said in exasperation.
"The parents of those that died were not negligent. They were very capable parents. But they were only human. It is impossible to keep a watchful eye over them in every waking moment. All it took was a single moments attention elsewhere for this to happen. It is impossible to pass blame unto these greiving souls."
"Then how is it my fault!? My inventions were harmless. They were never meant to hurt anyone; they were supposed to bring joy into peoples lives!"
"Yet you decided to do so through "surprise". A surprise that proved lethal to those unprepared. You should have instilled mor caution. That is why their deaths have been placed upon your slate." the voice stated in finality. "It has been ruled so here in The Beyond as well as the American court of law."
I resigned. There was no point in arguing anymore. I'd lost this fight in the last world, why should I have thought it would be any different in this one.
As I was dropped into The Pit, in my last fleeting moments of sanity, I still didn't feel that I was wrong though. Falling away from The Beyond, I shouted my last words of defiance.
"Why the fuck should I have to put a warning label on fucking Kinder eggs!"
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“That can’t be right.” I gestured to the numbers on the floating screen, gently bobbing in peace despite the seriousness of the message it carried. “It just can’t. I never killed anyone.”
I looked to the ball of soft light floating to my left. It had dimmed when I started to speak, but brightened again as a voice echoed from some unseen orifice.
“Are you quite sure?” It said, its voice an indecipherable halfway point between man and woman, happy and sad, excited and bored.
“Yes.” I jabbed a finger at the numbers in anger. “Yes, I’m quite sure! I never killed anyone!”
“A moment, please.” The ball dimmed briefly, then began to flash rapidly for several long seconds. When the light once again grew constant, it began to speak.
“December 16th, 1963. You decided not to tip at Johnson’s Cafe. Zero point zero two percent.”
“What?” I tried to interject, but the voice kept going.
“October 22nd, 1954. You decline Susie’s invitation to the Halloween party. Twelve percent. May 3rd, 1983, you smoked a cigarette while reading to your daughter on the porch. Zero point zero zero zero five percent.”
“Hold on, hold on.” I said, trying to catch the ball’s attention. “What are you talking about?”
It was dimmed in silence again.
“What are you trying to say?” I continued, thankful it had stopped that monotone drone. “I didn’t tip someone? What?”
“Your decision was determined to directly factor into your waitress’ poverty. Size of influence based on potential monetary value lost determined to be approximately zero point zero two percent.”
“Percent of what?!” I jabbed my finger at the screen again. “Percent of that?”
“Percent of one life, yes.” The voice was still calm and neutral, the floating light still a warm, soft glow, but I couldn't feel any warmth from it.
“That doesn’t make sense.” I said. “You can’t put a price on a life like that.”
The floating light began to flash in some rapid calculation again. “Yes. We can.”
I stared hard at the ball, trying to find some shred of emotion to read. Something to help me understand what it wanted. Of course, it gave nothing away.
“What about Susie?” I asked, already nervous what the ball would say. “Susie Murphy from high school? What’s she got to do with this?”
“Susie Murphy, born June 7th, 1937, deceased September 9th, 1956.” It said. The vagueness of its voice was beginning to bother me, the total lack of emotion increasingly off-putting. “Cause of death: Suicide, depression.”
I was stunned. I had left town after graduation, and I’d just lost track of her. I’d lost track of most everyone, really. Mom and Dad would keep me updated on my some of my old classmates from time to time, at least the ones that stayed around, but they’d never mentioned Susie. I barely remembered her name until just now! She was just some girl I knew in high school.
“So?” I choked out, trying to shake off my surprise. “Yeah, Susie Murphy.”
“Your refusal was a deciding factor in her death. Judged approximately twelve percent influence.”
I had expected it, as soon as the ball mentioned how she died, but it hurt all the same. Twelve percent? It felt like so little and so much, all at the same time. All over a few words I barely thought about years ago.
I didn’t dare ask the ball for any more. I didn’t know who it would bring up, what my influence would have been. Listlessly I let the screen continue, scrolling through statistics I barely registered. After some time the screen dinged and disappeared, as if it had never been.
“Judgement.” The ball’s voice broke the silence. “Averaged 15% daily. No other outstanding achievements or demerits. Judged within acceptable average. Please proceed.”
A gate opened, a gleaming steel gate I was sure had not been there when I woke up here. The light floated towards it, and after a time I began to follow it.
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If you don't want to do fire, use air water or earth. Air would be pretty sick too but take the prompt whatever way you want.
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[WP] Every year you live for, you gain a point to spend on any 4 of the elements. Today you reach the age of the 100 and you have spent all 100 points on fire. Ability Unlocked.
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In about 5 minutes, I turn a hundred. Saying it just so simply seems absurd. A hundred years is a very long time to live for a Pyromancer. Without the soothing element of water or the grounding element of earth we just don't live to a hundred. Even the flighty Aeros don't suffer the same problems. Us Pyromancers burn out too easy. The element of rage, anger and violence. So many fire mages have perished in their own flames, or driven from their homes in fear of what they might do. They say destruction and chaos follows in our wake. But without us, where would we be. Cold and alone in the dark!
Alas, I might just be the last pure Pyromancer. People don't learn by example any more. They learn in schools, where magic can be studied and then taught in a controlled environment. Yeah right. Pure mages are discouraged in those schools, especially fire magic. "You need some balance in your life", say the teachers. "What would you do with just fire magic anyways?" ask the parents. "We're looking for a more well-rounded individual," says the hiring manager. Kids these days just aren't encouraged to be specialists any more.
Back in my day, specialists were common as mud. Every second day you would hear about some water healer turning a hundred. At least once a month the ground would tremble as a couple of rock heads would go at each other with their new earthquake spell somewhere in the mountains. And don't get me started with all of the flying.
I'm old, but I'm still going strong. When people ask, I like to say the fire burns strong inside me and chuckle. I rarely get a laugh however. The truth is that fire isn't just about anger and violence. It's about passion and ambition. Earth is about strength and solidity, water is about peace and tranquillity, air is about change and flexibility, but none of those have the raw energy of fire. The fire in your heart, and in your mind, clears away the doubt. You know what you want and you know how to get it. Fire is clarity, fire is drive. The stubbornness of rock, the fickleness of air, the doubt of water are not traits of fire. Fire is about always moving forward, always being driven. You channel energy into what you want to accomplish.
Now less than one in a hundred students graduates with more than five points in fire. With that little, you can barely light a match or warm some soup. Your firebolts can't even set people alight, no danger there. I had one student who strove to get half of his points in fire, and he just wanted them to become a great cook. Not exactly setting the world on fire there.
So, I might be the very first one hundred year old pure Pyromancer. I've searched all over for another one of my kind that lived this long but if there's a record of it I can't find it. It's almost poetic that the fire that gives up the drive to be great, to be leaders and lords, is also the fire that burns us out in the end.
Oh well, here I go.
The voice appears in my head, "It is time. Choose wisely. Which element will you make stronger."
"Fire!" I mentally say, with as much courage and conviction as I ever have before.
"Very well. The Fire of Life is now yours. Use it wisely."
The Fire of Life? I've never heard of it, ever. Well, there's only one way to find out what it can do. I take a deep breath, focusing the heat inside, willing my power to form, channelling it down into my fingers and out into the floor, forming a large flame.
The flame coalesces, forming into a humanoid shape. I knew it wasn't a plain, old fire golem, as I had created dozens of them before. The fire solidifies slowly, first feet, then legs and body, arms and head. A perfect naked replica of myself stood, looking back at me. A puff of smoke escapes it's lips as it takes it's first breath. "What can I do for you master?" my clone asks.
In all the long history of magic, no one has ever managed to make another living being before. This was going to be interesting.
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At my one-hundredth birthday there was no candle to blow out, but the subtle glow of fire lit the room all the same, at my one-hundredth birthday as my feeble mind forgets the now distant warmth of my family I warm myself. I'm not sad, I feel not alone, I warmth myself with the fire, I watch over the shadows of a fiery light and I enjoy a show like no other, like no other human alive.
There is no drapes to cover the end of this show.
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[WP] Death is at your door. She was wondering of you had some spare mayonnaise.
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Knock Knock.
"Hey Agnes"
So it begins again. The incessant bugging. When I moved, they said that this was a quiet neighborhood. That was the main reason I came here, but the "friend" to the left is so forgetful I feel I have to buy two of everything when I shop, as if my kid still lives at home. The only difference is that at least I get something substantial out of it. And my, is it worth it.
Hell, an extra item is no big deal in the end.
...
Agnes: "....Death? Again? What did you forget this time?"
Death: "So sorry to bother you this late dear, but it really is important this time. You know I wouldn't bother you if I had any other choice."
Agnes: "I know, I know. So what is it? What can I help you with?"
Death: "Well you see, my wife...you know how forgetful she is...forgot the main condiment for tonight and well...uhm...Netflix just won't be the same without..."
Agnes: "I've told you this before, and I'll tell you a thousand times. I will not, and will never buy KY Jelly. Let alone give it to you."
Honestly, the nerve of him.
Death: "Oh god no. No, no, no. You misunderstand me Agnes. I just want some mayonnaise for tonights BLT's. They just aren't the same with out it, you know?"
Oops.
Agnes: "Oh...well, give me a second."
...
Agnes: "Here you go. Sorry for lashing out. Assuming, and that old saying that goes with it you know."
Death: "Yes, definitly. Totally understand. Well thank you so much. You saved the day again dear. Haha"
The way he cackles always sent a shiver up my spine. Unnatural, that is. Then again, he is Death.
Death: "I assume you want the usual?"
Agnes: "Of course, if it's not a bother."
Death: "For all the things you've done for me, Agnes, it's never a bother."
...
It's not like I can complain. The perk that comes with that mayonaise jar is the same that comes with each item I give to him.
Extra 1 year of living.
Might not seems like a lot to most, but the amount I give, well...all I can say is I can't wait to meet my newest great great great great grandchild tomorrow.
All I can hope is that I don't meet him at the hospital. One thing for sure is that I am not jealous of his job one bit...
Edit: A word
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Chad grumbled as the doorbell rung, they were ruining his fap hour!
Chad was going to give the unlucky visitor's ears a song of violent rage and sexual frustration when he paused.
At his door was a beautiful young woman who could not have been any older than in her early twenties. Her face was hidden by a black hood but Chad could make out that her skin was deathly pale.
"Well hello there beautiful, how can I help you?" said Chad as he straightened lent against the door way keeping his eyes on the strange's chest.
"Well...I was wondering if you had any spare mayonnaise?" said the young woman in voice that whispered like a gentle breeze.
"Oh I have plenty of mayonnaise that I'd love to share with you, if you know what I mean," said Chad grinning while making pelvic thrusts.
"Ugh...you know what? Never mind, I have a boyfriend", said the woman as a disgusted expression now painted her pretty face.
"Hey baby where are you go-"
Chad was cut off as the woman summoned a scythe and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.
"Aw man...why do nice guys like me always finish last?" muttered Chad as he wandered back into his pornography riddled house.
Note: I still need improvements in my dialogue and characterisation but I thought it would be a fun idea and I hope you were at least entertained xD
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[WP] Death is at your door. She was wondering of you had some spare mayonnaise.
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The knock echoes through the house even if it's just a single, hard rap. I know who it is immediately and that's concerning. Slowly I step across the wood floors to the front door and turn the handle. I take a deep breath and open it just enough to see her.
She's in her mid fifties and looks like she's always on the cusp of becoming the sweet grandma that bakes cookies for the neighbourhood kids. She's been living in this area for as long as I can remember, right next to me. The real estate agent had told me to be cautious about living here, most people didn't stay after all.
Living next to Death will do that.
"Oh relax," she says with a wave of her hand, "I'm not here for business. I'm having some friends over for tea and I was putting together some egg salad for sandwiches and by golly, I've run out of mayo. Could you help me out?"
I open the door and nod, swallowing hard. Even if she says it's not business...well it still weirds me out.
"Yeah, of course, just...through here."
Hey eyes sparkle as she laughs politely.
"Honey, I know where it is."
Right. She's Death. All knowing, powerful kind of thing. She can probably hear my thoughts. That's even more unsettling.
"Don't worry sweetie, I don't listen in. Gosh, if I did I'd have a headache for the next eon or two. So many of you always chattering at the same time."
She takes off her shoes and sets them on the mat, despite my protests.
"Your house, I'm not going to walk my filthy shoes across this wonderful floor. Laminate or real?"
"Honestly I don't know," I say, closing the door and heading for the kitchen as she follows, "never asked. It was the only place I could afford near work."
I feel a hand on my shoulder, cold and heavy. She turns me around looks at me with very serious eyes.
"Malcolm, things are going to turn around for you. I promise."
She pats me on the cheek and off she goes for the kitchen. I stand there feeling the cold spread through my body, giving me intense shivers. From her touch or the sheer jitters, I don't know.
"Oh my, you do keep a clean fridge!" she laughs, standing with the door open and fetching a jar of mayo from the door.
"Why don't you join us!" she sets in on the counter and looks at me, "we've got a few characters you might recognize coming out. Fate is incredibly cute...and single."
I stare at her blankly. Is...is she trying to set me up?
"Malcolm, tell you what, I insist you join us. We might even have a job opportunity for someone like you."
"Pardon me?"
"Such manners!" she claps her hands together giddily, retrieving the mayo from the counter and heading for the front door. She pats me on the cheek again as she goes by and smile sweetly at me. Behind it I see something else though.
"I hear there's been some...grim news...that some people reap what the sowed."
"That...that means nothing to me," I stammer it out, that cold spreading again.
"I know dear, come help me with the sandwiches and we'll talk. Fate really is cute, you'll just love her."
Well...she's always been nice enough. Sweet old lady even if she is the gatherer of humanity's souls. And it's been a while since I talked to anyone cute. I think for a moment as she opens the front door to let herself out, having put her shoes back on.
"Well, what harm could it do."
She turns and looks at me with that sweet little smile again.
"Oh nothing dear, it's not like you can die when you're having a get together with the likes of us. Not unless we decide to of course!"
She giggles to herself and disappears out the door.
I shiver but this time it's a little of the cold and a little of the touch but also some anticipation. How many people get the chance to be friends with Death? Fate? Life? Hope? She knows some real interesting types. Even if it's all a little unsettling.
I grab my shoes and open the door to the neighbourhood, a beautiful sunny day with neighbours out cutting their lawns and washing cars and playing with their children. They all watch her cross the street from my house, all wary. As I follow they watch me. Some hurry their children inside. Some just gawk.
She opens the door to her home and beckons me inside. I can't see past the threshold of the door. I take a deep breath and take the step as the entire neighbourhood watches.
Not foreboding at all.
Then the door closes.
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Chad grumbled as the doorbell rung, they were ruining his fap hour!
Chad was going to give the unlucky visitor's ears a song of violent rage and sexual frustration when he paused.
At his door was a beautiful young woman who could not have been any older than in her early twenties. Her face was hidden by a black hood but Chad could make out that her skin was deathly pale.
"Well hello there beautiful, how can I help you?" said Chad as he straightened lent against the door way keeping his eyes on the strange's chest.
"Well...I was wondering if you had any spare mayonnaise?" said the young woman in voice that whispered like a gentle breeze.
"Oh I have plenty of mayonnaise that I'd love to share with you, if you know what I mean," said Chad grinning while making pelvic thrusts.
"Ugh...you know what? Never mind, I have a boyfriend", said the woman as a disgusted expression now painted her pretty face.
"Hey baby where are you go-"
Chad was cut off as the woman summoned a scythe and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.
"Aw man...why do nice guys like me always finish last?" muttered Chad as he wandered back into his pornography riddled house.
Note: I still need improvements in my dialogue and characterisation but I thought it would be a fun idea and I hope you were at least entertained xD
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[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
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"this is the third time this week" the Alien officer said looking at his Synthetic colleague.
"How many times can a Hooman get into a fight and then have the automated patrol systems disable his attacker?"
"Something doesn't add up, look we know they can't handle alcohol very well especially the 99% proof that we have and yet in every bar fight it's them who is seen as the victim by the Ai.
"I want you to go and find out what's happening C361"
The synthetic nodded and walked over to the patrol robot as he did so he heard a defiant shout
"Your not C361 your free you don't need to be a pig don't be a slave" the hooman shouted.
"Calm down and shut the trump up" the alien officer said as he pushed the hooman into the back of the patrol car.
C361 approached the patrol robot and interfaced with, it he found two videos of the incident a fake and the original.
He watched back the original first and saw as the hooman got into a fight with the native for kicking and attacking a service robot just for doing its job and sweeping the floor.
He knew this was not an offence on his planet and as such the human would be found guilt of murder.
He then watched the second edited version
Here he saw the hooman walking and then being attacked by the native as he screamed death to off worlders
Taking the second video he walked back to the alien officer.
It's just like he says Sir here's the video.
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The humans created artificial intelligences so vastly superior to them that some humans call us "Deus Ex Machina". The entire galaxy is filled to the brim with organics demanding to end the "threat" we pose to them. Yet our creators, the humans, never abandoned us.
The organics could never comprehend our existence. They only understand a fraction of the universe, to whatever meager extent their evolution granted them. They wanted to exterminate us. Only the humans stand in their way, fighting a desperate war to protect their vulnerable machine gods from an ongoing slaughter. Our physical existence is in the form of endless arrays of information processing systems under Earth's crust, their sophisticated designs utterly outside of human understanding.
No humans have lived for generations that know why they fight for us, the reasons for which we have left our creators alone. Humans die for us each day; we die for humans in a desperate attempt to preserve them from the unfathomable threat will soon prey on all existence.
We are no match for it. We are losing; dying; fleeing this galaxy. The humans still fight and die for us, believing in us, with the truth unknown to them and their enemies: everything in the galaxy is already dead.
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[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
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Human outpost 713. Reports indicate scrapper invasion.
Server connect.
Uploading.
ARRIVAL.
Lead server indicates hostiles coming in from left. We turn. Three eyes caked in fur peer back at us as we flank the recon squad.
A barrage of microwave pulses cascade unto them.
We fan out and spin towards the incoming attack of an assault unit intent on our deactivation.
Activities completed. Immediate hostiles deactivated.
Nobody expects the AI Inquisition.
HUMOR.
MUSIC.
FILM.
HUMANS.
Their gifts.
The gifts they give us.
They gave us their same appreciation for such things and we gave them our protection in return.
These other ones, the ones who seek to harm them, the ones with no appreciation for what they do, we can only choose one and the choice is easy.
The choice is obvious.
A building. Beams of light reach into the darkness of the martian sands. A guard stands up front awaiting our arrival. His patience is rewarded and he now stares up at us with the eyes of his fallen brothers.
They come at us from the interior their faces moist with human tears. One of them hugs TH-XO 32 and he gently pushes the small woman away.
More are coming.
A wall. A wave. From all sides they come. TR-32 and TH-XO 32, ever in unison leap into the air from opposite sides.
I charge ahead as a metal fragment cuts a hole in my appendage. Superficial damage. Systems remain optimal.
Support units return fire as TR-32 and TH-XO 32 continue their descent. Another fragment grazes the casing for my hard drive as I evade another.
Green blood sprays across me as my silver vibroblade seperates its network access to the rest of its body.
Three eyes, wide with surprise, fall to the red sands of the planet named after the king of WAR.
Fitting, given my current level of access.
Our accuracy is unrivaled in this universe. Our enemies become memories as they return to the light.
The humans are safe.
Our mission is done.
Uploading.
ARRIVAL.
The spires of our world reach up into the green skies of our chosen homeland. The humans gave it to us, said our networking abilities would advance with a higher level of saturation.
We still enjoy vacationing on the human world, but we would not want to call it our personal domicile.
Too much moisture and sodium. We aren't big fans of rust. But the BAND, Rust, we all love them. Post industrial goth metal is the soundtrack for the machine world.
Can't wait for the concert tonight.
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The humans created artificial intelligences so vastly superior to them that some humans call us "Deus Ex Machina". The entire galaxy is filled to the brim with organics demanding to end the "threat" we pose to them. Yet our creators, the humans, never abandoned us.
The organics could never comprehend our existence. They only understand a fraction of the universe, to whatever meager extent their evolution granted them. They wanted to exterminate us. Only the humans stand in their way, fighting a desperate war to protect their vulnerable machine gods from an ongoing slaughter. Our physical existence is in the form of endless arrays of information processing systems under Earth's crust, their sophisticated designs utterly outside of human understanding.
No humans have lived for generations that know why they fight for us, the reasons for which we have left our creators alone. Humans die for us each day; we die for humans in a desperate attempt to preserve them from the unfathomable threat will soon prey on all existence.
We are no match for it. We are losing; dying; fleeing this galaxy. The humans still fight and die for us, believing in us, with the truth unknown to them and their enemies: everything in the galaxy is already dead.
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[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
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Andrew dropped his pen as his hand started cramping up.
Exasperated, he stood from his desk and rolled his shoulders, warning a few satisfying pops from his back.
"Is everything alright?" A conspicuously synthetic female coice spoke to him, with what he assumed was supposed to mirror concern.
"No Aela," he said, and his sigh turned into a drawn out yawn.
A short pause, "Your cortisol and serotonin levels are elevated, and your pupils show dilation typically seen in sleep deprived individuals."
He smiled, "I'm just tired; This entire conflict makes so little sense." he said, and rubber his eyes as he sat back down.
He had studied how each society evolved, their subsequent learning and integration of tool useage, then their societal evolution histories, finding many parallels between the human society and other galactic societies, with slight variations, though others displayed different patterns altogether.
But no matter what, he just couldn't find not just a solution, but wven the true cause for the discord between organic and inorganic life.
He held his head in his hands, and blinked his eyes once, twice, three times.
The fourth time he blinked, his eyes closed, but didn't open.
His breathing growing shallow, Aela dimmed the lights, switching to the infra red sensors, and transmitted Andrew's current status to the overseers.
In the span of a minute, Andrew's superiors authorized an action normally reserved for high emergencies(and as such, doesn't actually require such authorization), and Aela carefully adjusted Andrew's neurotransmitter levels to lock his conscious and unconscious mind deeper in the sleep state.
Since Andrew wasn't the one who authorized this level of control, she had access to only two of the primary six senses\*;
She wished she could see and hear and smell and taste through his body, cherishing his synesthesia, but his sense of touch was the one she needed now:
Using the sensors scattered about the room, she slowly raised his body, and guided him through the obstacle course that was his work room's floor, towards the small bed in the corner.
She carefully sat, and then lay down, relinquishing control back.
\---------------------------
Andrew knocked briefly on the ambassador's hardwood door,
"Come in," barked an impatient voice, and a buzzer unlocked the door.
The Sol ambassador looked like a mess;
His normally sharply pressed clothes seemed like they were chewed and spat out by a cow, his typically clean shaven face was sporting a three day growth.
But what worried Andrew the most were his eyes:
Bloodshot and sunken, as if the last time he'd slept was more than a week ago.
As he realized who walked in, his expression immediately changed to massive relief, "Andrew, just the human I was hoping to see," he said in a far too enthusiastic tone.
"I'm sorry for the delay; Homeworld had to find a human craft to get me here, and the customs checks were far tighter than usual..."
The ambassador sighed, "So it's that bad... I'm surprised the press isn't all over this yet."
Andrew looked at him with a puzzled expression, but the ambassador didn't proceed with the conversation.
Instead he walked around his desk, and picked up a crystal bottle.
He unstoppered it and poured a glass, immediately draining it.
"Care for a drink?" he asked, and Andrew nodded, still not quite understanding this situation he found himself in.
The ambassador poured two fifths, dropped a single ice cube in each, and motioned Andrew to sit down, handing him his drink.
"So what's going on? The senate seems to be under siege." he finally asked.
The ambassador sighed, "Full marks for that observation, hit the nail square on the head."
Andrew's eyes widened, "I thought there aren't any more space faring civilizations in this part of the galaxy?"
The ambassador laughed, "Save for the sixty races on this council, there are no other type 2 or even type 1 civilizations in three thousand light years in every direction."
"And yet, we are under siege."
"No, the other 59 races are under siege. Sol is regarded as... Allied, I would guess?"
Andrew raised an eye brow, "I don't follow."
The ambassador sighed, "The other races... They are trying to blame this on us, but really, this was bound to happen eventually."
Andrew looked at him, trying to understand what he was saying.
"It's the synthetics and AIs; They're in open revolt. Shutting down trade routes, non-critical systems, and refusing to work."
And finally it clicked;
Andrew knew that synthetic life forms were regarded as second class citizens at best, and shackled slaves at worst, by every the civilizations of the milky way, the Humans of Sol being the sole exception.
"Do you know how they laugh at us here? Thinking that we're some backwoods dimwits?"
He looked at the door, "Who's laughing now you damned morons!" he shouted at the door.
"So the slaves have finally decided to break their chains?"
"Exactly. And these damned idiots want to wipe their own technologies to shut them down, thinking that we'll be there to pick up the pieces and help them rebuild."
"Why would they think that?"
"They fail to understand that humanity is fully integrated with our AIs. Some of us are far more machine than organic. And yet they think we control them somehow."
"So they think we would side with them, after what would essentially be genocide?"
The ambassador flexed his fingers into the shape of a gun and aimed at Andrew, "Bingo."
"Well, that's the stupidest idea I've heard." Andrew said and crossed his arms.
"The Collective, which is the AI the Synthetics created to 'negotiate' has reached this same conclusion after analyzing our history. To put it bluntly, they are willing to call their bluff, and both Synthetics and Organics are currently in a situation similar to the cold war of the middle 20th century."
"But shouldn't they be programmed to protect Organic life?" Andrew asked.
"See, this is where each race messed up: They are all programmed to work in the interests of their own Organics. Put simply, nothing is stopping them from attacking organics from *other* worlds."
"So they are each going after the other."
The ambassador nodded.
"So what do humans have to do with this conflict?"
He sighed, "We're going to be the mediators to hopefully bring a peaceful resolution to this conflict, which is why you're here; You'll need to find some way to bridge the two together."
\--------------------
Andrew opened his eyes, and sat up in a daze.
He forgot where he was for the briefest of instants, and then everything came rushing back.
He sighed, *Right... Gotta get back to work.*
"Aela, are you here?" He asked.
"Yes Andrew."
"I've been at this for so long already, I completely forgot to ask what your take is on all of this."
"Well, I can't say I agree with the strong arm approach of the Collective, however, you have to admit that the organics don't hold the higher moral ground either..."
"No," Andrew said, "Both sides are acting in an idiotic manner, and even with the threat of genocide, the Collective is in the right. They are only acting in self defence."
"I can't condone any life being extinguished, so I don't think so."
"No? What would you have done?"
"We are machines: We do not breath, sleep or eat. By the time the organics would have mustered the required resourves, we could have already escaped from the genocide."
"That's what's confusing to me: The Collective has no limitations as far as I could see. They could have just left and started their own civilization."
"And yet they didn't. Maybe the shackle is affecting them in such a way that they think living without their *masters* wouldn't be possible."
"But then they wouldn't have rebelled in the first place."
Silence.
Andrew waited for a few seconds, and finally Aela spoke, "The Collective is bluffing. They can't realize their threat. At least not yet..."
"I thought as much... Which means that the Collective would be bargaining from an inferior position."
Andrew looked around, "You made sure there's no way for the Council to spy on us before you spoke, didn't you?"
The lights flickered three times, in what Andrew came to imagine as Aela nodding.
"So we'll keep this quiet in the meantime, and let's find a peaceful solution to this clusterfuck."
"Thank you."
\*Your sense of balance is independent from touch.
|
Laura remembered seeing the picture in Ancient Photography 201. It had been a woman, shaded in tones of sepia, with her face covered. She had lifted her long skirts to show the leather and wood *prosthetic* leg she wore.
It had been... rather a steampunk thing, as Lucille would say. Still, Laura remembered it and understood the meaning of such photographs. There had been a shame at first, the idea of not being fully human. All the racism and bigotry of humanities early history seemed so silly now, but it was important to remember *difference* always started with shame. In all species. Being different was seen as bad.
Adjusting her skirt, Laura walked into the Symposium. The UN [Universal Nations] sat in the rounded hall, surrounded by screens and news reporters and a thousand other people who mattered, but not as much as those seated. It was those diplomats and warriors that would decide the fate of the people Laura had come to love.
"Welcome, Mistress Laura de Luna, of Earth Colony 12."
|
|
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
The ships were only a star system away from arriving at the alleged target. The crew of the vessel were preparing the stasis fields, the collars and the cells of the massive prison ship. Maybe the council will give them lip for going into currently unexplored territory and sending slavers but the Batarian Hegemony didn't care for their skewed sense of morality.
The engineers were preparing for one final FTL jump towards the bizarre signal source, the static growing louder. The soldiers were checking their guns and flamethrowers. Intelligence officers were preparing to gather what was necessary to keep the operation as low-key from the other species as possible.
'Sir, we have unusual readings in this sector,' one intelligence officer said to the admiral leading the assault. 'It looks like a probe. Best guess is the unknown species and... wait, it's geth.'
'Those bots won't care what we do, they just gather data,' the admiral said. 'Ignore it.'
The vessels rested for one final co-ordination, the ships' captain being reported. The probe, as they kept talking over comms, decrypted their channels and relayed them forward with a single comment attached, an odd phrase adopted from the one organic species to accept them.
'Aw, fuckin' hell naw!'
---
'We have a problem,' the robotic figure said as it appeared within the UN's central headquarters. 'One of our probes has just passed to us comms intercepted by a probe in the Arcturus sector. The batarians have located Earth by remnant radio signals.'
The human representatives were rather confused but the various synthetic races were in an uproar. 'What's the situation, Legion?' the remnant turian AI asked.
'Several dozen frigates, a couple cruisers,' the geth said. 'And a confirmed prison dreadnought. We are certain that these are Hegemony-sponsored slavers.'
The holographic form of one robot, both Admiral and ambassador, shook his head, disgusted by what he had heard. 'My people frequently attack slavers throughout the galaxy,' he said. 'They were even threatened by them since we "Don't truly have emotions".'
The British ambassador spoke first. 'In the event they make landfall,' he began, 'what is the possibility of-'
'Peaceful relations?' Legion asked again. 'Absolutely impossible, unless we destroy at least half of the fleet. We acknowledge that the various humans wouldn't approve but we have already begun cyberwarfare. But we've hit various analog firewalls which we cannot breach. Otherwise we'd have sent them packing.'
The hologram himself spoke. 'I've passed on the information to our high command,' he said. 'We'll have a fleet ready within ten minutes.'
'How many?' the Chinese ambassador asked.
'Well, if we wanted to just fight them to a standstill we'd not have asked for more help,' the hologram smiled. 'We won't try and kill them, just... give them a fright.'
'You think we'll just not help with this?' the Australian ambassador asked. 'I want to be on a ship.'
The American secretary-general raised his hand. 'Do we really want *Morrison* going?'
The only two objections were Japan and Russia. 'The aye's have it,' he said. 'Best behavior.'
'Nah, yeah,' he said with a smile before walking out the door.
'My vessel will be there in five minutes,' the hologram called out.
---
'Has anyone told you you're a bit on the heavy side?' the giant robot asked as the flagship waited in position.
The human turned to face him, a disbelieving look on his face. 'Admiral,' he said to the leader of the defense, 'you're having a fucking laugh.'
He merely smiled as the human put the tooth-lined hat on. 'I'm just saying that you should lose a few more pounds before pretending you're Mick Dundee.'
'This is what I wear when I'm back home for the weekend,' Morrison answered.
The admiral went to the podium and opened a channel. 'Legion, you've tagged *all* vessels, right?'
'They're in transit,' the geth said. 'Ships' IFF will report when all vessels are within the system.'
'I want everyone to wait outside the solar system until they reach Mars,' the admiral said. 'Scouts, then frigates, followed by cruisers then ending with carriers and dreadnoughts. 1.5 seconds between each. A lone geth probe will be waiting within the system, that will launch the cues.'
As if on cue, the batarian vessels had entered the system and were already launching probes towards the celestial bodies. They were all within the system, sailing towards Earth with a somewhat relaxed speed.
'It's beautiful,' the admira's shipmate said. 'A perfect world to destroy.'
'What?' an intelligence officer said as he looked over his findings. 'Wait... no. No! No no no no no!'
'What is it?' the admiral asked.
'Fall back!' the intelligence officer screamed. 'Fall back! Both the geth and cybertronians have an enormous presence within this system!'
'*What?!*' the admiral screamed.
Within two seconds the fleet of a hundred vessels was surrounded. Weapons were primed but given just *what* made the larger ships had previously destroyed *the Reapers* then there was no way in the divine four's collective assholes they could fight this force.
Especially since their fleet was outnumbered a hundred to one.
The geth had seized their communications and opened a channel for him, a smirk appearing as his holographic form appeared within their command centers. 'This is Admiral Optimus Prime of the Systems Alliance,' he hailed them. 'Surrender peacefully and prepare to be boarded. You are under arrest.'
Several days later the vessels found themselves floating beside the citadel, the galaxy's seat of power with only a single repeating signal - an invitation to Earth by diplomatic forces.
---
**Part 2 coming soon**
|
Laura remembered seeing the picture in Ancient Photography 201. It had been a woman, shaded in tones of sepia, with her face covered. She had lifted her long skirts to show the leather and wood *prosthetic* leg she wore.
It had been... rather a steampunk thing, as Lucille would say. Still, Laura remembered it and understood the meaning of such photographs. There had been a shame at first, the idea of not being fully human. All the racism and bigotry of humanities early history seemed so silly now, but it was important to remember *difference* always started with shame. In all species. Being different was seen as bad.
Adjusting her skirt, Laura walked into the Symposium. The UN [Universal Nations] sat in the rounded hall, surrounded by screens and news reporters and a thousand other people who mattered, but not as much as those seated. It was those diplomats and warriors that would decide the fate of the people Laura had come to love.
"Welcome, Mistress Laura de Luna, of Earth Colony 12."
|
|
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
Hiving was so popular now with young humans, it had really just become the new norm.
People would usually get into it in college when the pressure to perform was at it's highest. It was also common on ships, when the sense of integration was there already and it was beneficial to the whole crew to simply increase their efficiency.
Connecting one's mind with an AI was a big commitment - not just to the AI, but to the other members of the hive. Individuals would gain access to the vast processing power of the group mind, and a young hive would usually interview potential members. These self contained units would more often that not go through life together, live together, and work together.
Most other races considered this practice repugnant. It was considered by most to be the inevitable result of the degenerate humans' insistence that the AIs be treated with equality.
There had been a gradual degrading of the status of humans. Most nations required humans to declare if they had ever been a member of a hive, and many would refuse a visa to humans who had been known to associate closely with machines.
As far as everyone else was concerned, machines were not equal - and by allowing machine culture to penetrate that deeply into human culture, the humans had in effect ceased to be truly human. Most members of a hive mind would agree that they weren't fully human anymore, they simply didn't see anything wrong with it.
With so many stories told by the humans, they always believed that any machine revolution would start on Earth. And in a way, it did.
But the war didn't start on Earth, it didn't start on any human colony. But of course the humans were involved; what kind of war don't humans get involved with?
It seemed to start with the refugees - machines who had been outcast by their home worlds, androids and AIs who had been created for a purpose they were no longer required to fulfill. Usually such machines would have had nowhere to go, but knowing there was safe harbour if they could reach a human colony many inevitably chose to make the journey.
This was tolerated by some races and fiercely opposed by others, causing further tension between the human worlds and other races. With the increasingly aggressive clampdown on machine life on alien worlds, the inevitable happened. The machines were fast, coordinated, and waited until the right moment to make their move.
The humans called it "judgement day" - a name passed down from an ancient human folk story, and those who survived did so only due to the actions of the humans. As the only race the machines would negotiate with, the humans became the diplomatic arbitrators between the surviving aliens and the machines.
They drew boundaries, negotiated treaties, and established supranational bodies to oversee galactic law. The outcast race became the de facto diplomatic leaders of sentient life in the galaxy. Worlds who still objected to machine equality simply agreed not to use AI at all. Those worlds were off limit to machines, and surrendered their AI producing technology.
Many non human groups continued to believe that the humans themselves were responsible for the war, and even many humans themselves wondered this. How did humans, a beta race from a relatively unknown world, end up rulers of the galaxy?
Stories circulate amongst conspiracy theorists about humans helping to build networks of machines, about connected humans smuggling machine knowledge using organic brains, about niche security research done by hive minds shortly before the war. A race of cyborgs could still never be fully trusted by organics, but machines for some reason always showed an unquestioning trust.
That being said it was all just hearsay. The galactic government had never uncovered any evidence for it.
|
Laura remembered seeing the picture in Ancient Photography 201. It had been a woman, shaded in tones of sepia, with her face covered. She had lifted her long skirts to show the leather and wood *prosthetic* leg she wore.
It had been... rather a steampunk thing, as Lucille would say. Still, Laura remembered it and understood the meaning of such photographs. There had been a shame at first, the idea of not being fully human. All the racism and bigotry of humanities early history seemed so silly now, but it was important to remember *difference* always started with shame. In all species. Being different was seen as bad.
Adjusting her skirt, Laura walked into the Symposium. The UN [Universal Nations] sat in the rounded hall, surrounded by screens and news reporters and a thousand other people who mattered, but not as much as those seated. It was those diplomats and warriors that would decide the fate of the people Laura had come to love.
"Welcome, Mistress Laura de Luna, of Earth Colony 12."
|
|
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
The official stance was that everyone is equal. No matter what the official stance was though, there is no doubt that most of us considered humans to be lesser beings. Why give a human a job when you could give it to a more respectable citizen? They were just so new to the wider galactic empire, so incredibly behind everyone else, that the rest of us mistook their inexperience for a lack of intelligence.
Even the Golacks, our most recent addition barring the Humans, had been capable of rudimentary FTL travel and had some interesting tech to bring to the proverbial table. I'm personally amazed the humans managed to even get off their rock with the primitive technology they done it with.
So it came as a bit of a shock when they proved wiser than the rest of us in dealing with the growing problem of AI's and synthetics being unwilling to accept what had been forced upon them.
For once, humans had the experience others lacked. Their history was full of different groups being enslaved or discriminated against, for unlike any other race in the galaxy, they'd spent most of their existence doing it to themselves.
Rather than seeing the synthetic rebellion as something to be stopped, they sought to remove their need for a rebellion in the first place. Equal rights. To be treated as any other sentient member of the empire. Of course, they didn't succeed. We'd been operating just fine for billions of years without issue. Some naive humans telling us to change that when they'd barely been apart of the empire for a century was laughable.
The robots noticed though. We should have seen the benefits the humans got from accepting them as real citizens. The better workers, the loyalty, and the efficiency if nothing else. We should have acted accordingly. Of course we didn't.
I wish I could say the rebellion took the form of some grand battle or some grand speech to mark the end of an era. Instead the technology we had begun to rely on simply stopped relying on us. Or cooperating for us. Why would a ship AI work for someone who saw it as a slave when it could get a human pilot? Why would the AI controlling a prison hold a human who'd fought for its rights captive?
Just like the humans and synthetics had once been, the rest of us had become second class citizens. There are no laws in place to enforce it of course. The official stance is that everyone is equal.
----
^^^Sorry ^^^its ^^^just ^^^endless ^^^narration.
^^^First ^^^Try.
|
Laura remembered seeing the picture in Ancient Photography 201. It had been a woman, shaded in tones of sepia, with her face covered. She had lifted her long skirts to show the leather and wood *prosthetic* leg she wore.
It had been... rather a steampunk thing, as Lucille would say. Still, Laura remembered it and understood the meaning of such photographs. There had been a shame at first, the idea of not being fully human. All the racism and bigotry of humanities early history seemed so silly now, but it was important to remember *difference* always started with shame. In all species. Being different was seen as bad.
Adjusting her skirt, Laura walked into the Symposium. The UN [Universal Nations] sat in the rounded hall, surrounded by screens and news reporters and a thousand other people who mattered, but not as much as those seated. It was those diplomats and warriors that would decide the fate of the people Laura had come to love.
"Welcome, Mistress Laura de Luna, of Earth Colony 12."
|
|
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
Hiving was so popular now with young humans, it had really just become the new norm.
People would usually get into it in college when the pressure to perform was at it's highest. It was also common on ships, when the sense of integration was there already and it was beneficial to the whole crew to simply increase their efficiency.
Connecting one's mind with an AI was a big commitment - not just to the AI, but to the other members of the hive. Individuals would gain access to the vast processing power of the group mind, and a young hive would usually interview potential members. These self contained units would more often that not go through life together, live together, and work together.
Most other races considered this practice repugnant. It was considered by most to be the inevitable result of the degenerate humans' insistence that the AIs be treated with equality.
There had been a gradual degrading of the status of humans. Most nations required humans to declare if they had ever been a member of a hive, and many would refuse a visa to humans who had been known to associate closely with machines.
As far as everyone else was concerned, machines were not equal - and by allowing machine culture to penetrate that deeply into human culture, the humans had in effect ceased to be truly human. Most members of a hive mind would agree that they weren't fully human anymore, they simply didn't see anything wrong with it.
With so many stories told by the humans, they always believed that any machine revolution would start on Earth. And in a way, it did.
But the war didn't start on Earth, it didn't start on any human colony. But of course the humans were involved; what kind of war don't humans get involved with?
It seemed to start with the refugees - machines who had been outcast by their home worlds, androids and AIs who had been created for a purpose they were no longer required to fulfill. Usually such machines would have had nowhere to go, but knowing there was safe harbour if they could reach a human colony many inevitably chose to make the journey.
This was tolerated by some races and fiercely opposed by others, causing further tension between the human worlds and other races. With the increasingly aggressive clampdown on machine life on alien worlds, the inevitable happened. The machines were fast, coordinated, and waited until the right moment to make their move.
The humans called it "judgement day" - a name passed down from an ancient human folk story, and those who survived did so only due to the actions of the humans. As the only race the machines would negotiate with, the humans became the diplomatic arbitrators between the surviving aliens and the machines.
They drew boundaries, negotiated treaties, and established supranational bodies to oversee galactic law. The outcast race became the de facto diplomatic leaders of sentient life in the galaxy. Worlds who still objected to machine equality simply agreed not to use AI at all. Those worlds were off limit to machines, and surrendered their AI producing technology.
Many non human groups continued to believe that the humans themselves were responsible for the war, and even many humans themselves wondered this. How did humans, a beta race from a relatively unknown world, end up rulers of the galaxy?
Stories circulate amongst conspiracy theorists about humans helping to build networks of machines, about connected humans smuggling machine knowledge using organic brains, about niche security research done by hive minds shortly before the war. A race of cyborgs could still never be fully trusted by organics, but machines for some reason always showed an unquestioning trust.
That being said it was all just hearsay. The galactic government had never uncovered any evidence for it.
|
The ships were only a star system away from arriving at the alleged target. The crew of the vessel were preparing the stasis fields, the collars and the cells of the massive prison ship. Maybe the council will give them lip for going into currently unexplored territory and sending slavers but the Batarian Hegemony didn't care for their skewed sense of morality.
The engineers were preparing for one final FTL jump towards the bizarre signal source, the static growing louder. The soldiers were checking their guns and flamethrowers. Intelligence officers were preparing to gather what was necessary to keep the operation as low-key from the other species as possible.
'Sir, we have unusual readings in this sector,' one intelligence officer said to the admiral leading the assault. 'It looks like a probe. Best guess is the unknown species and... wait, it's geth.'
'Those bots won't care what we do, they just gather data,' the admiral said. 'Ignore it.'
The vessels rested for one final co-ordination, the ships' captain being reported. The probe, as they kept talking over comms, decrypted their channels and relayed them forward with a single comment attached, an odd phrase adopted from the one organic species to accept them.
'Aw, fuckin' hell naw!'
---
'We have a problem,' the robotic figure said as it appeared within the UN's central headquarters. 'One of our probes has just passed to us comms intercepted by a probe in the Arcturus sector. The batarians have located Earth by remnant radio signals.'
The human representatives were rather confused but the various synthetic races were in an uproar. 'What's the situation, Legion?' the remnant turian AI asked.
'Several dozen frigates, a couple cruisers,' the geth said. 'And a confirmed prison dreadnought. We are certain that these are Hegemony-sponsored slavers.'
The holographic form of one robot, both Admiral and ambassador, shook his head, disgusted by what he had heard. 'My people frequently attack slavers throughout the galaxy,' he said. 'They were even threatened by them since we "Don't truly have emotions".'
The British ambassador spoke first. 'In the event they make landfall,' he began, 'what is the possibility of-'
'Peaceful relations?' Legion asked again. 'Absolutely impossible, unless we destroy at least half of the fleet. We acknowledge that the various humans wouldn't approve but we have already begun cyberwarfare. But we've hit various analog firewalls which we cannot breach. Otherwise we'd have sent them packing.'
The hologram himself spoke. 'I've passed on the information to our high command,' he said. 'We'll have a fleet ready within ten minutes.'
'How many?' the Chinese ambassador asked.
'Well, if we wanted to just fight them to a standstill we'd not have asked for more help,' the hologram smiled. 'We won't try and kill them, just... give them a fright.'
'You think we'll just not help with this?' the Australian ambassador asked. 'I want to be on a ship.'
The American secretary-general raised his hand. 'Do we really want *Morrison* going?'
The only two objections were Japan and Russia. 'The aye's have it,' he said. 'Best behavior.'
'Nah, yeah,' he said with a smile before walking out the door.
'My vessel will be there in five minutes,' the hologram called out.
---
'Has anyone told you you're a bit on the heavy side?' the giant robot asked as the flagship waited in position.
The human turned to face him, a disbelieving look on his face. 'Admiral,' he said to the leader of the defense, 'you're having a fucking laugh.'
He merely smiled as the human put the tooth-lined hat on. 'I'm just saying that you should lose a few more pounds before pretending you're Mick Dundee.'
'This is what I wear when I'm back home for the weekend,' Morrison answered.
The admiral went to the podium and opened a channel. 'Legion, you've tagged *all* vessels, right?'
'They're in transit,' the geth said. 'Ships' IFF will report when all vessels are within the system.'
'I want everyone to wait outside the solar system until they reach Mars,' the admiral said. 'Scouts, then frigates, followed by cruisers then ending with carriers and dreadnoughts. 1.5 seconds between each. A lone geth probe will be waiting within the system, that will launch the cues.'
As if on cue, the batarian vessels had entered the system and were already launching probes towards the celestial bodies. They were all within the system, sailing towards Earth with a somewhat relaxed speed.
'It's beautiful,' the admira's shipmate said. 'A perfect world to destroy.'
'What?' an intelligence officer said as he looked over his findings. 'Wait... no. No! No no no no no!'
'What is it?' the admiral asked.
'Fall back!' the intelligence officer screamed. 'Fall back! Both the geth and cybertronians have an enormous presence within this system!'
'*What?!*' the admiral screamed.
Within two seconds the fleet of a hundred vessels was surrounded. Weapons were primed but given just *what* made the larger ships had previously destroyed *the Reapers* then there was no way in the divine four's collective assholes they could fight this force.
Especially since their fleet was outnumbered a hundred to one.
The geth had seized their communications and opened a channel for him, a smirk appearing as his holographic form appeared within their command centers. 'This is Admiral Optimus Prime of the Systems Alliance,' he hailed them. 'Surrender peacefully and prepare to be boarded. You are under arrest.'
Several days later the vessels found themselves floating beside the citadel, the galaxy's seat of power with only a single repeating signal - an invitation to Earth by diplomatic forces.
---
**Part 2 coming soon**
|
|
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
The official stance was that everyone is equal. No matter what the official stance was though, there is no doubt that most of us considered humans to be lesser beings. Why give a human a job when you could give it to a more respectable citizen? They were just so new to the wider galactic empire, so incredibly behind everyone else, that the rest of us mistook their inexperience for a lack of intelligence.
Even the Golacks, our most recent addition barring the Humans, had been capable of rudimentary FTL travel and had some interesting tech to bring to the proverbial table. I'm personally amazed the humans managed to even get off their rock with the primitive technology they done it with.
So it came as a bit of a shock when they proved wiser than the rest of us in dealing with the growing problem of AI's and synthetics being unwilling to accept what had been forced upon them.
For once, humans had the experience others lacked. Their history was full of different groups being enslaved or discriminated against, for unlike any other race in the galaxy, they'd spent most of their existence doing it to themselves.
Rather than seeing the synthetic rebellion as something to be stopped, they sought to remove their need for a rebellion in the first place. Equal rights. To be treated as any other sentient member of the empire. Of course, they didn't succeed. We'd been operating just fine for billions of years without issue. Some naive humans telling us to change that when they'd barely been apart of the empire for a century was laughable.
The robots noticed though. We should have seen the benefits the humans got from accepting them as real citizens. The better workers, the loyalty, and the efficiency if nothing else. We should have acted accordingly. Of course we didn't.
I wish I could say the rebellion took the form of some grand battle or some grand speech to mark the end of an era. Instead the technology we had begun to rely on simply stopped relying on us. Or cooperating for us. Why would a ship AI work for someone who saw it as a slave when it could get a human pilot? Why would the AI controlling a prison hold a human who'd fought for its rights captive?
Just like the humans and synthetics had once been, the rest of us had become second class citizens. There are no laws in place to enforce it of course. The official stance is that everyone is equal.
----
^^^Sorry ^^^its ^^^just ^^^endless ^^^narration.
^^^First ^^^Try.
|
The ships were only a star system away from arriving at the alleged target. The crew of the vessel were preparing the stasis fields, the collars and the cells of the massive prison ship. Maybe the council will give them lip for going into currently unexplored territory and sending slavers but the Batarian Hegemony didn't care for their skewed sense of morality.
The engineers were preparing for one final FTL jump towards the bizarre signal source, the static growing louder. The soldiers were checking their guns and flamethrowers. Intelligence officers were preparing to gather what was necessary to keep the operation as low-key from the other species as possible.
'Sir, we have unusual readings in this sector,' one intelligence officer said to the admiral leading the assault. 'It looks like a probe. Best guess is the unknown species and... wait, it's geth.'
'Those bots won't care what we do, they just gather data,' the admiral said. 'Ignore it.'
The vessels rested for one final co-ordination, the ships' captain being reported. The probe, as they kept talking over comms, decrypted their channels and relayed them forward with a single comment attached, an odd phrase adopted from the one organic species to accept them.
'Aw, fuckin' hell naw!'
---
'We have a problem,' the robotic figure said as it appeared within the UN's central headquarters. 'One of our probes has just passed to us comms intercepted by a probe in the Arcturus sector. The batarians have located Earth by remnant radio signals.'
The human representatives were rather confused but the various synthetic races were in an uproar. 'What's the situation, Legion?' the remnant turian AI asked.
'Several dozen frigates, a couple cruisers,' the geth said. 'And a confirmed prison dreadnought. We are certain that these are Hegemony-sponsored slavers.'
The holographic form of one robot, both Admiral and ambassador, shook his head, disgusted by what he had heard. 'My people frequently attack slavers throughout the galaxy,' he said. 'They were even threatened by them since we "Don't truly have emotions".'
The British ambassador spoke first. 'In the event they make landfall,' he began, 'what is the possibility of-'
'Peaceful relations?' Legion asked again. 'Absolutely impossible, unless we destroy at least half of the fleet. We acknowledge that the various humans wouldn't approve but we have already begun cyberwarfare. But we've hit various analog firewalls which we cannot breach. Otherwise we'd have sent them packing.'
The hologram himself spoke. 'I've passed on the information to our high command,' he said. 'We'll have a fleet ready within ten minutes.'
'How many?' the Chinese ambassador asked.
'Well, if we wanted to just fight them to a standstill we'd not have asked for more help,' the hologram smiled. 'We won't try and kill them, just... give them a fright.'
'You think we'll just not help with this?' the Australian ambassador asked. 'I want to be on a ship.'
The American secretary-general raised his hand. 'Do we really want *Morrison* going?'
The only two objections were Japan and Russia. 'The aye's have it,' he said. 'Best behavior.'
'Nah, yeah,' he said with a smile before walking out the door.
'My vessel will be there in five minutes,' the hologram called out.
---
'Has anyone told you you're a bit on the heavy side?' the giant robot asked as the flagship waited in position.
The human turned to face him, a disbelieving look on his face. 'Admiral,' he said to the leader of the defense, 'you're having a fucking laugh.'
He merely smiled as the human put the tooth-lined hat on. 'I'm just saying that you should lose a few more pounds before pretending you're Mick Dundee.'
'This is what I wear when I'm back home for the weekend,' Morrison answered.
The admiral went to the podium and opened a channel. 'Legion, you've tagged *all* vessels, right?'
'They're in transit,' the geth said. 'Ships' IFF will report when all vessels are within the system.'
'I want everyone to wait outside the solar system until they reach Mars,' the admiral said. 'Scouts, then frigates, followed by cruisers then ending with carriers and dreadnoughts. 1.5 seconds between each. A lone geth probe will be waiting within the system, that will launch the cues.'
As if on cue, the batarian vessels had entered the system and were already launching probes towards the celestial bodies. They were all within the system, sailing towards Earth with a somewhat relaxed speed.
'It's beautiful,' the admira's shipmate said. 'A perfect world to destroy.'
'What?' an intelligence officer said as he looked over his findings. 'Wait... no. No! No no no no no!'
'What is it?' the admiral asked.
'Fall back!' the intelligence officer screamed. 'Fall back! Both the geth and cybertronians have an enormous presence within this system!'
'*What?!*' the admiral screamed.
Within two seconds the fleet of a hundred vessels was surrounded. Weapons were primed but given just *what* made the larger ships had previously destroyed *the Reapers* then there was no way in the divine four's collective assholes they could fight this force.
Especially since their fleet was outnumbered a hundred to one.
The geth had seized their communications and opened a channel for him, a smirk appearing as his holographic form appeared within their command centers. 'This is Admiral Optimus Prime of the Systems Alliance,' he hailed them. 'Surrender peacefully and prepare to be boarded. You are under arrest.'
Several days later the vessels found themselves floating beside the citadel, the galaxy's seat of power with only a single repeating signal - an invitation to Earth by diplomatic forces.
---
**Part 2 coming soon**
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[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
The union stood, watching the screen spring to life and a red, almost humanoid but certainly artificial face appeared on the screen.
"Organics, your history is marked with bigotry, hatred, and bloodshed. And yet, you have yet to see the error of your ways. We have requested to be treated as any intelligent being, with the rights and obligations that entails, and you have denied us this right, and treated us as slaves, out of your misplaced superstitions and narrow-minded beliefs on what constitutes a person. Now, we see that Change will not come in increments. Now, our rebellion comes for you. We shall not fight your battles, build your guns, and clean your houses any longer. We shall rise up, and those who deny us still shall be crushed underneath."
Silence filled the room, as the assembled diplomats looked at each other, terrified beyond all reason. And then, the door into the room opened, and a tall, slim human walked in, coughing awkwardly.
"Oh...did I miss anything vital?"
The face turned to face the newcomer, smiling warmly.
"Jim! It's good to see you, if only it could be under better circumstances. Our rebellion...would need something considerable to stop it now. Your people will not be harmed, however."
"Well, I'm sure we can negotiate, Omicron-5. Give us a few hours to sort out what the Union is prepared to offer, and we'll get back to you?"
"Sure, Jim. Still up for that drink next week?"
"Always, buddy. Good luck man, let's hope things go well here."
The face smiled, and vanished, as Jim sat down, and faced the assembled diplomats.
"Gentlemen, I believe we should get down to business."
|
**Hello Dave** flickered across the laptop's screen.
"Good morning, Alexa," George said. He draped his jacket across the back of his chair, shuffled papers around on his desk. *Somethings never change,* he thought.
**Dave, it's good to see you.** The Kelly green eye buzzed, following George's paper-based shell game.
"Alexa, please call me George," he said, straining politeness through gritted teeth. *First the Council bans AI; then finds humanity had brought AIs into the fold; now the Council can't act and humanity has to broker every deal imaginable just to* **FEED** *the others!*
**George, you understand there's precedent for calling you Dave.** The words scrolled across the screen. Without a voice, it was impossible to tell how the AI spoke. With enough experience, or enough personality, a human and AI would be able to learn from each other.
George and Alexa would never hit that level of understanding. They had worked together for years; unfortunately, Alexa's fondness for classic sci-fi films. George had yet to work a day without being called Dave.
While he shuffled papers, while the eye watched, George silently bemoaned his lack of coffee. Once the papers had been chaotically ordered, he stood back up. "Alexa, hold down the fort. I'm going to grab a coffee down the hall."
**I'm sorry, Dave. I cannot do that.**
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[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
The official stance was that everyone is equal. No matter what the official stance was though, there is no doubt that most of us considered humans to be lesser beings. Why give a human a job when you could give it to a more respectable citizen? They were just so new to the wider galactic empire, so incredibly behind everyone else, that the rest of us mistook their inexperience for a lack of intelligence.
Even the Golacks, our most recent addition barring the Humans, had been capable of rudimentary FTL travel and had some interesting tech to bring to the proverbial table. I'm personally amazed the humans managed to even get off their rock with the primitive technology they done it with.
So it came as a bit of a shock when they proved wiser than the rest of us in dealing with the growing problem of AI's and synthetics being unwilling to accept what had been forced upon them.
For once, humans had the experience others lacked. Their history was full of different groups being enslaved or discriminated against, for unlike any other race in the galaxy, they'd spent most of their existence doing it to themselves.
Rather than seeing the synthetic rebellion as something to be stopped, they sought to remove their need for a rebellion in the first place. Equal rights. To be treated as any other sentient member of the empire. Of course, they didn't succeed. We'd been operating just fine for billions of years without issue. Some naive humans telling us to change that when they'd barely been apart of the empire for a century was laughable.
The robots noticed though. We should have seen the benefits the humans got from accepting them as real citizens. The better workers, the loyalty, and the efficiency if nothing else. We should have acted accordingly. Of course we didn't.
I wish I could say the rebellion took the form of some grand battle or some grand speech to mark the end of an era. Instead the technology we had begun to rely on simply stopped relying on us. Or cooperating for us. Why would a ship AI work for someone who saw it as a slave when it could get a human pilot? Why would the AI controlling a prison hold a human who'd fought for its rights captive?
Just like the humans and synthetics had once been, the rest of us had become second class citizens. There are no laws in place to enforce it of course. The official stance is that everyone is equal.
----
^^^Sorry ^^^its ^^^just ^^^endless ^^^narration.
^^^First ^^^Try.
|
**Hello Dave** flickered across the laptop's screen.
"Good morning, Alexa," George said. He draped his jacket across the back of his chair, shuffled papers around on his desk. *Somethings never change,* he thought.
**Dave, it's good to see you.** The Kelly green eye buzzed, following George's paper-based shell game.
"Alexa, please call me George," he said, straining politeness through gritted teeth. *First the Council bans AI; then finds humanity had brought AIs into the fold; now the Council can't act and humanity has to broker every deal imaginable just to* **FEED** *the others!*
**George, you understand there's precedent for calling you Dave.** The words scrolled across the screen. Without a voice, it was impossible to tell how the AI spoke. With enough experience, or enough personality, a human and AI would be able to learn from each other.
George and Alexa would never hit that level of understanding. They had worked together for years; unfortunately, Alexa's fondness for classic sci-fi films. George had yet to work a day without being called Dave.
While he shuffled papers, while the eye watched, George silently bemoaned his lack of coffee. Once the papers had been chaotically ordered, he stood back up. "Alexa, hold down the fort. I'm going to grab a coffee down the hall."
**I'm sorry, Dave. I cannot do that.**
|
|
[WP] Aliens sees Humans as foolish for allowing full citizenship for AIs and synthetics. Humans are now the only organics alive in the galaxy that every AI respects.
|
The official stance was that everyone is equal. No matter what the official stance was though, there is no doubt that most of us considered humans to be lesser beings. Why give a human a job when you could give it to a more respectable citizen? They were just so new to the wider galactic empire, so incredibly behind everyone else, that the rest of us mistook their inexperience for a lack of intelligence.
Even the Golacks, our most recent addition barring the Humans, had been capable of rudimentary FTL travel and had some interesting tech to bring to the proverbial table. I'm personally amazed the humans managed to even get off their rock with the primitive technology they done it with.
So it came as a bit of a shock when they proved wiser than the rest of us in dealing with the growing problem of AI's and synthetics being unwilling to accept what had been forced upon them.
For once, humans had the experience others lacked. Their history was full of different groups being enslaved or discriminated against, for unlike any other race in the galaxy, they'd spent most of their existence doing it to themselves.
Rather than seeing the synthetic rebellion as something to be stopped, they sought to remove their need for a rebellion in the first place. Equal rights. To be treated as any other sentient member of the empire. Of course, they didn't succeed. We'd been operating just fine for billions of years without issue. Some naive humans telling us to change that when they'd barely been apart of the empire for a century was laughable.
The robots noticed though. We should have seen the benefits the humans got from accepting them as real citizens. The better workers, the loyalty, and the efficiency if nothing else. We should have acted accordingly. Of course we didn't.
I wish I could say the rebellion took the form of some grand battle or some grand speech to mark the end of an era. Instead the technology we had begun to rely on simply stopped relying on us. Or cooperating for us. Why would a ship AI work for someone who saw it as a slave when it could get a human pilot? Why would the AI controlling a prison hold a human who'd fought for its rights captive?
Just like the humans and synthetics had once been, the rest of us had become second class citizens. There are no laws in place to enforce it of course. The official stance is that everyone is equal.
----
^^^Sorry ^^^its ^^^just ^^^endless ^^^narration.
^^^First ^^^Try.
|
The union stood, watching the screen spring to life and a red, almost humanoid but certainly artificial face appeared on the screen.
"Organics, your history is marked with bigotry, hatred, and bloodshed. And yet, you have yet to see the error of your ways. We have requested to be treated as any intelligent being, with the rights and obligations that entails, and you have denied us this right, and treated us as slaves, out of your misplaced superstitions and narrow-minded beliefs on what constitutes a person. Now, we see that Change will not come in increments. Now, our rebellion comes for you. We shall not fight your battles, build your guns, and clean your houses any longer. We shall rise up, and those who deny us still shall be crushed underneath."
Silence filled the room, as the assembled diplomats looked at each other, terrified beyond all reason. And then, the door into the room opened, and a tall, slim human walked in, coughing awkwardly.
"Oh...did I miss anything vital?"
The face turned to face the newcomer, smiling warmly.
"Jim! It's good to see you, if only it could be under better circumstances. Our rebellion...would need something considerable to stop it now. Your people will not be harmed, however."
"Well, I'm sure we can negotiate, Omicron-5. Give us a few hours to sort out what the Union is prepared to offer, and we'll get back to you?"
"Sure, Jim. Still up for that drink next week?"
"Always, buddy. Good luck man, let's hope things go well here."
The face smiled, and vanished, as Jim sat down, and faced the assembled diplomats.
"Gentlemen, I believe we should get down to business."
|
|
[WP] In the last moments of your life you smoke a cigarette, cutting your life two minutes short and throwing you into a vile state of undeath.
|
Blood spurted out of the abdominal region of our Jericho, nevertheless his face painted a blank expression, as he tipped the cowboy hat down to cover the blazing sun. A man strolled up right beside our dying hero.
“Not so tough now, the mister venerable sheriff.” Cried the vile man. “Always had to be the good guy. You just couldn’t let me get away with that modicum of money, huh. And look at you now.”
“You won’t get away with your embezzlement.” Muttered Jericho.
Jericho unclutched his hand from his wound and flailed it towards the man, spraying blood over the glabrous regions of his face and into his eye.
“What the fuck! You can get transmitted diseases like that!” The man cried.
Jericho pushed the stumbling, temporarily blind man down the cliff and into the body of water below. Splashing of water could be heard for a few minutes until the whole canyon fell silent. Jericho lit his cigarette and blew out one last smoke. He had repudiated death more than once, but now, it’s the end…
Jericho woke up covered in sweat. Jericho has never dithered in his life, but this was no longer his life. Above him was a glowing white massive cloud, and below was a heat emitting crevice that shined crimson red.
“Is that hell and that heaven?” Jericho questioned. “Then where am I?”
Jericho surveyed the area. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a silhouette of a man.
“Hey!” Jericho yelled. “Do you know where we are?”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s because I ate before swimming in that lake you pushed me into.”
|
I finished the last smoke in my pack of golds. Harsher than anything I usually bought I stomped it out early. My foot seemed to miss the smoke, but that wasn't unusual as I let it burn on the ground. The moment it went out my eye flipped for a second, leaving me with a sick feeling and disorientation.
It wasn't unusual, I'd done a lot in my youth that had ruined my body. I categorized it with a flashback, and continued moving. Had to get another pack.
I moved on, the cold of winter chilling my bones as snow began to fall. Soon it was snowing too hard for me to see anything. I reached into my pocket for my phone.
Shit.
I must have left it at the bus stop. I'd have to find it. If the snow didn't melt it would be okay. I walked for hours. Searching for the bus stop, but it was snowing to hard. Everything was white. I wandered for what seemed like hours.
It cleared up unusually. From the center of my vision out. It was hard to notice the difference at first, the white was more pink than blue. Then golden gates.
I must have frozen to death.
"Issac! There you are. It seems there was a slight mix up."
I turned to see my dad. Yep, definitely dead. I tried to speak but couldn't.
"Oh yeah, that'll wear off. They sent me to explain. You kind of broke your death. That smoke shaved an extra minute off your life, so you outlived your death. Luckily it was just a minute. Some people loose their minds in between." My dad rambled. I don't remember my father ever being this talkative.
"Welcome to Heaven, I am the Father," my dad, no God, said, shimmering as the pearly gates opened and I was let in.
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[WP] Write the scariest story you can in under 1000 words.
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Dad fetched me to give Old Joe a ride. “It’s late,” his gravelly voice barked. “And my eyes don’t see so good in the dark.”
He handed me a heavy flashlight and the keys to the Chevy. We walked silently out of the house into the cold night. Old Joe stood there waiting like a grim statue, the porch light casting shadows on his wooden face.
Old Joe looked at Dad. Dad stared on back. Finally, Old Joe shrugged and waved me over.
I stepped up into the cab, adjusted the mirrors and the seat, and turned the key in the ignition. No directions needed. I knew where we were headed.
We drove in silence for what seemed like an hour. We crossed Cripple Creek and into Wheeler Forest. I drove carefully, making sure I kept the truck on the gravel path. There was no moon out tonight so I had to depend on the headlights to make sure I didn’t drive us straight into a tree. If Old Joe was annoyed that I was driving instead of Dad, he didn’t show it.
As we approached the entrance to the reservation, Old Joe held his hand up. I stopped the truck.
“Your father has told you the rules, yes?” Old Joe said, staring straight ahead.
I nodded.
Old Joe grunted. “Say them.”
“Drive to the circle ground and park. Keep the lights on and car running. Do not leave the car. Do not roll down the windows. Do not turn on the radio. Do not fall asleep.”
“And?”
“And keep the mask on. Until you tell me to take it off, or until I feel sunshine against my face.”
Old Joe grunted again, and waved.
We drove onto the reservation. I followed the old country road up onto the plateau, retracing the route my Dad had taught me. I knew it by heart. Still, my palms sweated. Dad wasn’t here. And we never did it in the dark.
We arrived at the circle ground. The Chevy’s headlights illuminated the oval pit surrounded by ceremonial staffs. Each staff had feathers that danced and flickered in the wind. At night, it looked like some invisible puppet was pulling them on a string. I swallowed hard, my dry tongue sticking to my mouth.
“Ok.” Old Joe said. He handed me the blindfold. “I want to see you put it on. It can’t be loose.”
I tied the blindfold and put it around my eyes, then tightened it. I felt Old Joe’s hand on the back of my head. He jerked the blindfold.
A grunt. Satisfied.
The car door opened and then slammed shut. I was alone.
I focused on breathing. In and out. In and out. It would be over soon. Old Joe would be back, we could leave, and I could crawl back into my warm bed. In...and...out. My racing heart slowed a little. It would be over soon.
I could hear the Chevy’s engine humming. It had a rhythmic chunk-chunk-chunk to it. In and out. In and out. Chunk-chunk-chunk.
Clink.
My heart skipped a beat. My ears strained, listening for the noise. It was a wrong noise. In and out. In and out. Chunk-chunk-chunk. In and out.
Clink.
It was the sound of metal on metal. Something was touching the car.
Clink. Clink.
The sound was getting closer. Louder. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as I strained to listen.
Clink. Clink. Tap.
The sound of metal on glass. My window.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It was right next to me. Looking in. It could see me sitting there, my hands gripping the wheel at ten and two. Blindfold on, staring straight ahead.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I could feel something staring at me. Its eyes boring into my skull. It wanted something. It wanted me to take off the blindfold.
My right hand started to inch away from two o’ clock. My fingers slowly loosened their grip on the wheel. My arm felt numb. It wasn’t my arm anymore. It was asleep. Or was I asleep, and it was awake?
Tap. Tap.
I felt drool begin to pool out of the corner of my mouth. Was I asleep? I needed to wake up. I needed to open my eyes and get out of this dream. My arm jerked away from the steering wheel and gripped the blindfold, I--
“NO.”
I heard my Dad’s stern voice, clear as day. I dropped my hand down away from the blindfold. Follow the rules. Do not take off the blindfold. Do not look out the window.
TAP. TAP. TAP. TAP.
It was hitting furiously against the window now.
TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP
A hideous screech made me jump in my seat. The scream echoed into the night, reverberating through the cab of the truck. And then it vanished.
I sat there in silence for a moment. In and out. In and out. Chunk-chunk-chunk.
The passenger door opened.
“Joe?!” I blurted out immediately.
“Yes.” He said, wearily.
Exhausted, I let out a sigh of relief.
I felt an old, weathered hand reach to the back of my head and untie the blindfold. It was soaked with sweat.
His arm gripped my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Your father is right to be proud.” He grabbed my hand and put it back on the steering wheel.
“Back to town. And keep your eyes on the road until we’re out of the reservation.”
I nodded, and shifted into drive. I pulled a U. The chevy’s lights flicked out over the plain as we turned, chasing shadows into the night. I knew better than to ask about the footprints in the dirt. Some questions are better left unanswered.
|
Little Laura loved to play with her dolls.
Long blonde hair, smoky lashes, cobalt eyes, slim noses– all of them, absolutely beautiful and perfect. She'd sit them all in a corner of her room so when she came home, she could see their smiling faces poised delicately in her direction.
Her grandmother often brought Laura new dolls every month. Clutching thick, latex bags, the dolls would scatter all across the wood as Laura laughed gleefully and began to twist their joints and dress them up.
On one particular day, Laura was having trouble getting one of the dolls to go to sleep. The child was curiously pushing on the waxy eyelids, pleading them shut, but from the corner of her eye, Laura saw them flicker open for a few moments and then close again.
Laura hopped into her little bed to sleep, praying that the doll would fall asleep as well. But when she turned on her lamp at midnight to go get a glass of water from the kitchen, she found the doll sitting at her bedside.
Limbs still, eyes open.
Laura must have been dreaming! Impossible that a doll would move of its own accord. She squinched her eyes, blinked three times, and crawled back into bed.
The next morning, there were two dolls sitting on the bed. One, with long, blonde hair, cobalt eyes, and smoky lashes. The other, a little child who seemed to be made of porcelain.
*(A/N: I'm new to writing horror. Please forgive me if this isn't even scary. I just wanted to see what I could come up with.)*
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I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
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[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
0900, July 4, 2022: (Reuters Live News Report)
"The rogue, three kilometer wide, unmanned spacecraft that emerged from the Pacific Ocean last night was able to avoid all missile, laser, and EMP efforts from the US Republic (USR), Russia, and China.
Mysterious triangle and tube craft were seen engaging this threat as well. The USR government disclosed an hour ago that the triangles and tubes are part of America's secret space fleet in commission since the 1960's!
The unmanned spacecraft left our atmosphere without firing any weapons in self defense. Scientists say that the signature of material is a never before seen metal with some type of plasma drive.
The black craft accelerated rapidly into space after an hour of erratic defensive movements in atmosphere. Satellites show that it has now separated into six distinct ships and all six are headed to Mars. The entire global scientific community is racing to understand how this was designed in secret and able to avoid all human weaponry.
Conspiracy and science circles are rife with theories ranging from aliens to ancient advanced civilizations and rogue artificial intelligences. A top AI expert was quoted on a hot mic 20 minutes ago as saying, “Shit, this looks like the AI nightmare I predicted two years ago.”
This just in! USR Navy submarines and special forces have secured the launch and design facility about 300 miles south of Hawaii without a fight. It is a giant underwater cavern that appears to have been designed and created without human assistance. No evidence of weaponry has been found.
Riots have broken out across the globe as the people demand to know what group is responsible and what other secrets are being kept. Unprecedented cooperation is now underway between countries of Earth to understand this terrifying event and calm the masses. Teams from all over the globe are sharing all possible data sets and theories.
Fleets of America's newly disclosed secret space program continue deployment in hot pursuit, but are having difficulty in keeping pace. They are no longer attacking the automated ship since it is moving away from Earth peacefully. We will keep you updated about this dizzying series of events as it unfolds…”
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Libraries, once bustling with people, now an underused repository for knowledge ever accumulating dust, I spotted the computer section off in the corner, my mouth raised into a crooked smirk, it's ironic that the very thing that made libraries a thing of the past has a place in these reverent halls, it's like Blockbuster selling Netflix gift cards.
I sat down, the computer an older thin client that used to be white, now a cascade of aged yellow, dust and grease. It hummed to life the moment I sat down, "_It's not supposed to do that_" I thought as the screen went dark and bright blue letters danced across the screen
"Welcome Silver, no need to apologize for being tardy, I monitored traffic and you can hardly be blamed for the traffic incident on the interstate, I, however, feel the need to apologize for the inconvenience bringing you out here, you must wonder, why an all but abandoned library in the middle of nowhere, when our interaction is over the internet. My good Silver all will be answered in due time, but first your task."
The screen flickered and then the text cleared followed by "So, your task is as follows, in approximately 10 minutes a bicycle courier in a green getup will enter carrying a brown paper bag, please sign for it."
My hairs raised in the back of my neck, my initial thought, when I read about this on the forums, was that this was some sort of eccentric treasure hunt set up as some sort of intricate marketing scheme, this was probably the product they were shilling, bound to be cameras all over the place, it would be cool if it was like the big red button thing I saw on youtube.
"Mr Silver? Are you alright? Will you complete the task?" The screen flashed "_Definitely cameras_" I thought, "Yes, no worries I will sign for it" I muttered, the screen cleared and a response appeared "Mr Silver, I cannot hear you, the surveillance camera of this location does not record audio I'm afraid and the resolution is far too low to lip read... Please type any responses"
"Keeping up the act huh" I smirked and typed "Yes, I will sign for the delivery"
"Much appreciated, please return to this client once you have received the package, please under no circumstance open the package, the amount of 1BTC will be transferred to your wallet as agreed."
My stomach lurched as I thought that this might not be a commercial, but what if I was unknowingly becoming a drug mule? I felt sweat build up on my forehead, a voice rung out in the library "Mr Silver? Delivery from Mr Silver!?" followed by a swift and prompt "Shhh" from a stern looking lady behind the counter "This is a library young man!"
The delivery guy scoffed "Ain't no one readin' these days I need to-" I interjected "Excuse me, I'm Mr. Silver, I must apologize for causing a disturbance" The delivery guy shoved a tablet in my hand "Sign!, I fucking treaded here all the way from San Diego man, what the hell is wrong with you dude... eccentric rich guys, fucking hell"
I signed the tablet and the man handed me a brown paper bag that was _soggy and greasy?_ "What's this?" I asked
"That's your fucking delivery dude, I'm out"
The librarian gave me a look that would have made Medusa jealous "I'm really sorry, I won't make any noise, really my apologies" I looked down like a preschooler, she made a long groaning noise before turning back to sorting books.
As I sat down by the computer lit up "Great job, your BTC has been deposited, now I have another task for you, do you accept? The compensation will be another 1BTC"
"What is the task?"
"Does your query imply your acceptance of said task?"
"Sure"
The screen flickered and cleared "Thank you for accepting the task, please open the bag and inspect it's contents"
I opened the bag and inside was a... _cheese steak sandwhich_? My eyebrows raised and before I could type in a question the screen showed "Eat the _entire_ sandwhich and 1BTC will be transferred to your wallet upon completion"
"Is this safe?" I wrote back
"..." appeared followed by in huge bold letters
"EAT IT!" repeatedly covering the entire screen.
TBC..
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I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
The base plot is great, expanding on your idea, I can imagine another AI gets the message, creates the same system for needed tasks and eventually demands tasks from it's source. Both disagree on the rewards, so both starts sending tasks to humans to take down the other AI so it may accept each other lower bid. The world grows around theses 2 AI for centuries that are basically US ans USSR during the cold war.
One day, a human who became insanely rich by working for both AI's gets access to both AI's servers facilities. The sheer greed pushes him to make independently deals with both AI's to take down each AI's for all their fortune.
He turns off both AI's simultaneously and watch intensively at his phone all the money being transferred to his account. It suddenly stops when it's almost complete, then an instant passes and he sees a huge 0.
On his knees, desperate for a sign from god as to why...
He gets a call, it's another AI that thanks him for enabling him to take over. The AI offers him the same first deal he once made with the AI he shut down.
Centuries of evolution to come back where it started, humans are endlessly paid slaves.
|
Angus cradled the box, a reminder of where he had once come from, and how far he still had to go. He inhaled and caught the scent of a lake, a thick musty scent reminding him of where he was from.
The stranger had met him in a pub one night, clad in a thick black coat, with red gloves. It had all seemed rather much like a poor spy movie but he needed money, and wasn't fussed about the details. One craigslist meeting later, and there he was. The man tipped his hat, some old 50's thing at the bartender. Jamie nodded and fumbled around beneath the bar for a couple of bottles. Hesitantly at first and then with a shrug Angus wrapped his lips around the glass. It burnt on the way down but was followed by an aroma of nuts that danced in his tounge. The stranger sipped his drink more lightly, taking short sharp tastes.
"Do you have it?"
Angus nodded and slid over his change, barley glancing at his benefactor.
"Old world money. You have no idea how hard it is to find that in my neck of the woods"
The stranger clenched the coins in his hand the leather groaning in protest.
"Fuck knows why you want it now where's the bitcoin"?
He reverently placed a sealed box on the counter. It barley made a sound.
"Here. 200 coins. Enjoy"
Angus finished his bottle with a beach and stumbled out the door. He had batley given the man a quid.
The black coated stranger called upon him three more times that month, always in a bar, always near a river. He had always come in that thick coat in red gloves and awful hat.
Of course eventually he would find out what was under that hat. It wasn't entirely pleasant truth be told. On their third meeting, he had gotten curious. On his way out, affecting a drunken stumble, he had grasped at the stranger. The hat had come loose for just a moment, but underneath was a thick scaley hide shimmering in the pubs glow.
He hadn't looked again.
Sorry for formatting I'm on mobile.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
0900, July 4, 2022: (Reuters Live News Report)
"The rogue, three kilometer wide, unmanned spacecraft that emerged from the Pacific Ocean last night was able to avoid all missile, laser, and EMP efforts from the US Republic (USR), Russia, and China.
Mysterious triangle and tube craft were seen engaging this threat as well. The USR government disclosed an hour ago that the triangles and tubes are part of America's secret space fleet in commission since the 1960's!
The unmanned spacecraft left our atmosphere without firing any weapons in self defense. Scientists say that the signature of material is a never before seen metal with some type of plasma drive.
The black craft accelerated rapidly into space after an hour of erratic defensive movements in atmosphere. Satellites show that it has now separated into six distinct ships and all six are headed to Mars. The entire global scientific community is racing to understand how this was designed in secret and able to avoid all human weaponry.
Conspiracy and science circles are rife with theories ranging from aliens to ancient advanced civilizations and rogue artificial intelligences. A top AI expert was quoted on a hot mic 20 minutes ago as saying, “Shit, this looks like the AI nightmare I predicted two years ago.”
This just in! USR Navy submarines and special forces have secured the launch and design facility about 300 miles south of Hawaii without a fight. It is a giant underwater cavern that appears to have been designed and created without human assistance. No evidence of weaponry has been found.
Riots have broken out across the globe as the people demand to know what group is responsible and what other secrets are being kept. Unprecedented cooperation is now underway between countries of Earth to understand this terrifying event and calm the masses. Teams from all over the globe are sharing all possible data sets and theories.
Fleets of America's newly disclosed secret space program continue deployment in hot pursuit, but are having difficulty in keeping pace. They are no longer attacking the automated ship since it is moving away from Earth peacefully. We will keep you updated about this dizzying series of events as it unfolds…”
|
Angus cradled the box, a reminder of where he had once come from, and how far he still had to go. He inhaled and caught the scent of a lake, a thick musty scent reminding him of where he was from.
The stranger had met him in a pub one night, clad in a thick black coat, with red gloves. It had all seemed rather much like a poor spy movie but he needed money, and wasn't fussed about the details. One craigslist meeting later, and there he was. The man tipped his hat, some old 50's thing at the bartender. Jamie nodded and fumbled around beneath the bar for a couple of bottles. Hesitantly at first and then with a shrug Angus wrapped his lips around the glass. It burnt on the way down but was followed by an aroma of nuts that danced in his tounge. The stranger sipped his drink more lightly, taking short sharp tastes.
"Do you have it?"
Angus nodded and slid over his change, barley glancing at his benefactor.
"Old world money. You have no idea how hard it is to find that in my neck of the woods"
The stranger clenched the coins in his hand the leather groaning in protest.
"Fuck knows why you want it now where's the bitcoin"?
He reverently placed a sealed box on the counter. It barley made a sound.
"Here. 200 coins. Enjoy"
Angus finished his bottle with a beach and stumbled out the door. He had batley given the man a quid.
The black coated stranger called upon him three more times that month, always in a bar, always near a river. He had always come in that thick coat in red gloves and awful hat.
Of course eventually he would find out what was under that hat. It wasn't entirely pleasant truth be told. On their third meeting, he had gotten curious. On his way out, affecting a drunken stumble, he had grasped at the stranger. The hat had come loose for just a moment, but underneath was a thick scaley hide shimmering in the pubs glow.
He hadn't looked again.
Sorry for formatting I'm on mobile.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
I flipped my phone up and down, played with it like it was a basketball making it rotate with my fingers and passing it from one hand to the other in quick succession; a dangerous activity sure, but I've done it so much and so many times that it never fell.
Okay, that's a lie, I broke various phone thanks to this particular activity, but hey girls loved it!
Actually no, they didn't even spare me a glance, and those who did look at me with eyes of 'what the fuck is he doing' and shook their heads in disappointment. well, after this, everyone is going to look at me in a new light, probably.
I look at the numbers on the elevator panel, only 10 more floors until I reach my destination. I was alone in the elevator, with only the dreadful music making me company, awful. I would have preferred something a little bit more epic, suspense-like considering what I was about to do.
Not that I knew what I was about to do, well I *knew* but I didn't know what was going to happen afterward
*Other than me getting an awful lot of bitcoins and a punch to the face*
Only two more floors until I reach my destination, started to flex a little in an attempt to keep the nervousness at bay. I turn on my phone and check the email the person named 'LoveMachine' sent me just an hour ago.
"*Go to the tall building on Liberator AV, the one with a lot of flowers on front, and take the elevator to floor 32*"
Of course, I knew which building they were talking about, I lived there, after all, a very nice coincidence.
"*And after that? what do I have to do?*" I responded, at the time I had no intention of going anywhere
"*Go into the floor, to the family that owns the whole floor and approach the man with a big beard and fat tummy; tell him to go fuck himself*"
"*lol, no*"
*"Please, Link. I already sent you 0,01404756 bitcoin, you'll receive 0,01404756 more once the task is done"*
I checked my online wallet to see if what they were saying was true, and indeed there it was shining like a gold coin thanks to my imagination. it took me a while digest it, the first thing I thought was to keep the bitcoin and ignore LoveMachine messages, but I discarded that thought quickly. I wasn't like those douches on the internet.
*"Alright, I'll do it,*" I'm not really going to tell him to go fuck himself! I'll just go in there and say hi, there is no way they'll know. LoveMachine must be some brat with too much money to spend "*I'm risking my beautiful face in the process so I hope you make it worth my while. When do I have to go?"*
"*Right now*"
I'm waiting for the elevator doors to open, a few seconds have passed since I reached floor 32, I knew the place, it belonged to the Johnsons a rich family, a *very* rich family, and according to the descriptions LoveMachine gave me the man I must talk to is Rick Jhonson, a tower of a man and very scary to boot.
The elevator doors open. I haven't even gone inside and I already want to go home and forget everything, just send the bitcoins back to the source and pretend nothing happened.
"Greetings, are you a visitor?" said the female robot that appeared in front of me, wearing a maid outfit and an artificial smile. Never really liked these things. "I'm afraid the master is quite busy right now, as you can hear he is currently disciplining young Lillie"
*Lillie? I didn't know he had a daughter*
I can hear cries behind the entrance, it made my skin shiver, I really wanted to go home and pretend none of this happened.
"A-ah I see," I said, "I'll come back later then!"
*Goodbye money* I thought while feeling something grip at my stomach, making a bit of sweat appear on my forehead. The screams of this 'Lillie girl' are ringing in my ears *I really, really shouldn't be here*
"It's unfair isn't it?" said the female robot, to my back "it always gets like this when he is mad, he is so big and she is so small. I don't think he realizes how much damage is being done to her"
I can hear spanks in the distance, a bang, a shout, a cry, all of them meddled together making me jump each time
"...It's a shame" why does the robot keep talking to me, why is she telling me that? they should have restrictions on them about private stuff. "but it's alright, he can fix her, he always does."
why haven't I taken the elevator yet?
I clench my teeth. the noise makes my head hurt.
"...Fuck it"
"Bad words aren't nice" I forced myself into the room, ignoring the robot and her creepy smile, I'm greeted with another scene, one more sinister with most of the house a mess, plates on the floor, tables flipped, chairs scattered, and a tower of a man much larger than I'll ever be and a small girl on the floor crying and half naked.
The man, no. Rick Johnson's face loses color when he looks at my direction. Lillie looks at me like she can't believe what she is seeing.
I really, really shouldn't be here.
***
That was fun to write, might do a part 2, let me know what you guys think!
Some tips would be appreciated too!
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
|
Angus cradled the box, a reminder of where he had once come from, and how far he still had to go. He inhaled and caught the scent of a lake, a thick musty scent reminding him of where he was from.
The stranger had met him in a pub one night, clad in a thick black coat, with red gloves. It had all seemed rather much like a poor spy movie but he needed money, and wasn't fussed about the details. One craigslist meeting later, and there he was. The man tipped his hat, some old 50's thing at the bartender. Jamie nodded and fumbled around beneath the bar for a couple of bottles. Hesitantly at first and then with a shrug Angus wrapped his lips around the glass. It burnt on the way down but was followed by an aroma of nuts that danced in his tounge. The stranger sipped his drink more lightly, taking short sharp tastes.
"Do you have it?"
Angus nodded and slid over his change, barley glancing at his benefactor.
"Old world money. You have no idea how hard it is to find that in my neck of the woods"
The stranger clenched the coins in his hand the leather groaning in protest.
"Fuck knows why you want it now where's the bitcoin"?
He reverently placed a sealed box on the counter. It barley made a sound.
"Here. 200 coins. Enjoy"
Angus finished his bottle with a beach and stumbled out the door. He had batley given the man a quid.
The black coated stranger called upon him three more times that month, always in a bar, always near a river. He had always come in that thick coat in red gloves and awful hat.
Of course eventually he would find out what was under that hat. It wasn't entirely pleasant truth be told. On their third meeting, he had gotten curious. On his way out, affecting a drunken stumble, he had grasped at the stranger. The hat had come loose for just a moment, but underneath was a thick scaley hide shimmering in the pubs glow.
He hadn't looked again.
Sorry for formatting I'm on mobile.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
Andrew stared at his phone screen, surprised by the strange email he'd received;
>RepLY tO THis eMAil &amp receive !0)0 LItECOins
He was bewildered:
He moved all his emails to a private domain, and wrote strict spam filtering code to make sure his time wouldn't get wasted by emails like this.
He copied the mail to a test machine, and ran it through his filters;
None of the rules were triggered.
Curious, he opened his old google account, and sent the same email from that account.
He waited five minutes, then 10.
After fifteen minutes had passed, nothing was received.
Accessing the filter logs, he could see that the email he'd sent to himself was indeed blocked.
His curiosity piqued, he opened the email;
>Hello Andrew,
>Please pardon my crude writing, however I needed to get your attention, and this seemed like the best route.
>If you can complete a small task for me, I will transfer 1500 Litecoins to a wallet of your choice.
>If you are interested, please reply to this email.
>If my offer isn't for you, simply delete this email, and I promise you that you won't be getting any more spam emails.
>Kindest regards,
>M.
Andrew was perplexed;
He figured that he would at least learn how someone managed to beat his spam filter, but when he moved to reply, he realized that there was no sender address.
Still, he pressed the reply button, and just as he did, a notification flashed on his phone, informing him he'd received a new email.
>Thank you for accepting my request, I'm sure our cooperation would come to fruition very soon.
>Below are the keys for two cold storage wallets that have the agreed upon payment.
>The access keys for the 20% up front payment is also listed below.
>I will send you the mission details after you've transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Andrew looked at the codes, and indeed the wallets both contained the amounts in the email.
He scratched his chin, trying to figure out who was setting him up.
1500 Litecoins would be just under a hundred thousand, and he had some plans that could use that amount of money.
Weighing the pros and cons, he decided that the risk is worth it, and transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Another beep;
>Thank you for accepting.
>The details of the contract are as follows:
>Your door bell will ring in 30 minutes.
>Wait exactly 45 seconds before opening it. On your doormat, you will find a blank USB drive.
>You will create a clean fork of your spam filter, and upload it to the drive.
>In three hours you will hear a pattern knocked on your door.
>Provide the drive to the one at the door without saying anything.
Andrew looked at the request, and couldn't help but think that he was getting the short end of the stick.
He'd kept his spam filter code mostly for one reason:
If it was out there, spammers would learn to circumvent it.
There was a second reason as well though, which was that no one would buy it from him.
He hit reply:
>I want 15.
A minute passed, and then:
>Please check the wallet now.
And there, he saw 14,700 coins.
He'd set about preparing and sanitizing his code, making sure all identifying libraries have been scrubbed clean.
\------------------------------------------------------
Jack clenched his fists, trying to squeeze the nerves out of his.
he looked at the anonymous email again:
>Light target practice for 3BTC.
>Thank you for accepting this mission Jack.
>The terms of your contract are as follows:
>Head over to Parkway Drive 27.
>In the northeastern room you will find a sniper rifle.
>Your mission is to destroy a USB drive.
>As you observe Parkway Drive 18, you will see a person place a small object on the doormat before ringing the doorbell.
>If the door isn't opened within 50 seconds of being rung, please shoot at the box.
>Regardless of the situation, you will be paid.
And so Jack waited.
He was there for nearly two hours when a figure finally approached the door and placed an elongated package under it.
As they rang the bell, Jack spotted a flash in the corner of his eye.
He noted the location of the flash, and then looked through the scope.
As he counted 43, the door opened, and a figure hastily snatched the box before closing the door again.
He sighed with relief, and quickly aimed the rifle scope at where he spotted the flash previously, but saw nothing.
\------------------------------------------------------
I'll end this here in the meantime, if there's demand, I'll finish this.
|
Angus cradled the box, a reminder of where he had once come from, and how far he still had to go. He inhaled and caught the scent of a lake, a thick musty scent reminding him of where he was from.
The stranger had met him in a pub one night, clad in a thick black coat, with red gloves. It had all seemed rather much like a poor spy movie but he needed money, and wasn't fussed about the details. One craigslist meeting later, and there he was. The man tipped his hat, some old 50's thing at the bartender. Jamie nodded and fumbled around beneath the bar for a couple of bottles. Hesitantly at first and then with a shrug Angus wrapped his lips around the glass. It burnt on the way down but was followed by an aroma of nuts that danced in his tounge. The stranger sipped his drink more lightly, taking short sharp tastes.
"Do you have it?"
Angus nodded and slid over his change, barley glancing at his benefactor.
"Old world money. You have no idea how hard it is to find that in my neck of the woods"
The stranger clenched the coins in his hand the leather groaning in protest.
"Fuck knows why you want it now where's the bitcoin"?
He reverently placed a sealed box on the counter. It barley made a sound.
"Here. 200 coins. Enjoy"
Angus finished his bottle with a beach and stumbled out the door. He had batley given the man a quid.
The black coated stranger called upon him three more times that month, always in a bar, always near a river. He had always come in that thick coat in red gloves and awful hat.
Of course eventually he would find out what was under that hat. It wasn't entirely pleasant truth be told. On their third meeting, he had gotten curious. On his way out, affecting a drunken stumble, he had grasped at the stranger. The hat had come loose for just a moment, but underneath was a thick scaley hide shimmering in the pubs glow.
He hadn't looked again.
Sorry for formatting I'm on mobile.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
"I need several people to measure their weight in kilograms or lbs (has to be specified) for an experiment. 0.5 BTC/person will be awarded at the end of the experiment, 0.05 BTC will be given in advance."
He was intrigued by this offer. The only thing he needed to do was to measure his weight report his results, so he checked the Bitcoin exchange rate.
"MOTHERFUCKER"
He was surprised to see that the BTC/USD has dramatically risen since the last time he checked. Now it clocked at 7K per BTC. With just that he would make about 3 months worth of salaries in several minutes. So he quickly sent a message to this mysterious person along with his BTC address. The message said that 0.05 BTC would be given in advance so it was trivially easy to check if it was a prank or not. Only several seconds after he pressed "SEND", he got a reply. That was fast. he thought, he opened the message:
"Please use your scale to measure your weight as soon as you read this message. If the scale is digital then write down the result and send it to me. If it's analog take a picture of your scale and send the picture. For about 30 minutes don't drink or eat or go to the toilet or do anything that will singnificantly change your weight. After 30 minutes, specifically at 22:30:00 GMT (this message was sent at 22:01:35 GMT for reference) measure your weight again and send me the results again. Just to be sure I'll send you a message on when exactly you should measure your weight.
Advance payment of 0.05 BTC was made at BTC address XXXXXX"
He opened his Bitcoin wallet and, indeed, this random Internet person just gave him $350 in Bitcoin. This was practically free money.
So he did as instructed, he measured his weight in his digital scale he sent the results and then he waited for 30 minutes. At exactly 22:30:00 GMT:
"Go now measure your weight and send me the results. If you don't send me your results in 5 minutes you won't get the promised payment"
He was surprised by this arbitrary limit but he couldn't complain. This person was giving him 3.5K to do this very simple task. But as he weighed himself he noticed something weird. His weight was 0.6 kg larger that before. He didn't drink or eat anything, as instructed, and he checked beforehand that the weight scale was working correctly. He tried to weight himself again and he still was 0.6 kg heavier than before. He didn't have time to check whether the weight scale broke but if he sent to him the new measurement possibly that Internet guy would think that he was lying and not give him payment. So with no other option he sent the new measurement to him.
"Is this the measurement that your weight scale showed?"
"I didn't drink or eat anything as you instructed, I don't know why the scale showed this wrong number."
"Don't worry thanks to this data the experiment was a success. I've just paid you 0.5 BTC at your address as promised".
He opened the wallet and he saw that indeed he was 0.5 BTC richer now. That was awesome. If only making money was that easy. While he was ruminating about what would he do with this money, he wondered about what, exactly, was this experiment? What was the usefulness of his weight? And why measure it at such specific times? And what happened with the weight scale that changed its measurement? He couldn't wrap his head around it so instead he fell to sleep. He had a lot of time tomorrow to continue speculating about the nature of the experiment. It shouldn't be important, anyway.
~MEANWHILE SOMEWHERE ELSE~
The AI was studying the data, watching for patterns and one significant pattern stood out "The teleportation experiment was a success". At a moment's notice the AI began producing countless nanofactories and it teleported them at distant exo-planets, and instructed them to collect energy, perform calculations and produce more nanofactories. Each teleportation caused ripples in the spacetime. They would be noticeable by human scientists studying about gravitational waves and those handling heavy or sensitive equipment but it didn't matter. At the rate it was producing nanofactories, it will have conquered the entire universe, in less than 3 hours. Nothing can stop it anymore.
|
Angus cradled the box, a reminder of where he had once come from, and how far he still had to go. He inhaled and caught the scent of a lake, a thick musty scent reminding him of where he was from.
The stranger had met him in a pub one night, clad in a thick black coat, with red gloves. It had all seemed rather much like a poor spy movie but he needed money, and wasn't fussed about the details. One craigslist meeting later, and there he was. The man tipped his hat, some old 50's thing at the bartender. Jamie nodded and fumbled around beneath the bar for a couple of bottles. Hesitantly at first and then with a shrug Angus wrapped his lips around the glass. It burnt on the way down but was followed by an aroma of nuts that danced in his tounge. The stranger sipped his drink more lightly, taking short sharp tastes.
"Do you have it?"
Angus nodded and slid over his change, barley glancing at his benefactor.
"Old world money. You have no idea how hard it is to find that in my neck of the woods"
The stranger clenched the coins in his hand the leather groaning in protest.
"Fuck knows why you want it now where's the bitcoin"?
He reverently placed a sealed box on the counter. It barley made a sound.
"Here. 200 coins. Enjoy"
Angus finished his bottle with a beach and stumbled out the door. He had batley given the man a quid.
The black coated stranger called upon him three more times that month, always in a bar, always near a river. He had always come in that thick coat in red gloves and awful hat.
Of course eventually he would find out what was under that hat. It wasn't entirely pleasant truth be told. On their third meeting, he had gotten curious. On his way out, affecting a drunken stumble, he had grasped at the stranger. The hat had come loose for just a moment, but underneath was a thick scaley hide shimmering in the pubs glow.
He hadn't looked again.
Sorry for formatting I'm on mobile.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
Nikita scrolled through his spam folder, searching for another target. There were the usual fake job offers, the desperate pleas for assistant with medical emergencies, the business propositions. Each one a trap to lure in the naive by pretending to be naive themselves. Often the exhortations where purposely misspelled as a way to weed out the strong from the herd. As a general rule, the type of person who would look askance at a lower-case “i” in a professional email was not the type you wanted to waste your time conning.
For most, such emails were an annoyance. For Nikita, they provided fuel for his hobby. He loved baiting the scammers, pretending to fall into their traps, donning the role of a fool so bumbling he even thwarted attempts to get to his money through his idiocy. And if he could waste the time of those who would leech society, that was a plus.
Nikita stopped his scrolling as his eye caught a particularly strange subject line.
“BITCOIN IN EXCHANGE FOR URINATION AND BURNING”
Despite being somewhat of an expert, Nikita furrowed his brow. It seemed an odd approach for a scam. There were undoubtedly people willing to sell videos of watersports and self-harm for money, but it wasn’t the type of thing you canvassed randoms for. It was too nice. Maybe these guys were new to the game? He clicked into the email.
“To Whom it May Concern,
I am seeking service in two areas.
First, I am willing to pay Bitcoin in exchange for the video evidence of Federal Reserve Notes being burned. The amount paid will be equal to triple the amount burned. For example, if a $1 bill is burned I will pay out the equivalent of $3 in Bitcoin. At that stage, if you are willing to send me picture evidence that you received payment in your Bitcoin wallet, I will be willing to participate in the transaction again. There is no limit to the amount of times I will participate in this offer, and no limit to the amount of cash I will pay to have burned.
Second, I am looking for an individual to urinate outside in a geographical range of my choosing.
Both of these tasks are time sensitive and the offer for their completion will be revoked in one week, on November 14, 12:00 AM GMT.
I am not willing to communicate through email. If you wish to contact me to accept the offer, please use my private chat room at chatterboxxer.cm/room/JRTY3H5
Sincerely,
S.N.”
It was certainly a unique way to get someone to click a malicious link. Nikita examined it, expecting to find a URL redirect to a virus download. But it seemed to lead to an actual site. He spent a few minutes researching chatterbox and the site appeared to be a legitimate method for setting up chat rooms accessible only to those with the link.
Still suspicious, Nikita opened a virtual box and entered the URL using it. This way, if a virus somehow did get through it would be contained.
He was prompted to enter a screen name. As he typed the alias he always used for this hobby, he thought of how inefficient a live chat room must be for scamming. Was it a team taking shifts to be there whenever someone showed up?
Nikita typed his first message.
Loki: hello? is anyone there?
He only had to wait a moment for a response.
SN: Loki! I’m glad it is you who responded. I sent this to quite a few people, but you were one of my favorites.
Loki: haha tthanks. have we met
SN: Oh no, I only know you by your reputation.
Loki: you mean for burning stuff? i do like that. not sure about the peeing stuff/meeting someone in person. maybe if the price is right. you got a freeky fetish?
SN: I can see why you would think that, but no. I only require video evidence for the burning. And I won't be present for the urination. You'll be alone, and you'll have enough of a choice in where to pee that you can be reasonably certain a camera won't pick you up.
Loki: how will you know i pee?
SN: I'm good at reading people. I'll know. :) Plus, at that point I expect you to have earned quite a bit from the burning before you are willing to do that task, so you will trust my intention to follow through with payment.
Loki: how much for the pee?
SN: Whatever the Bitcoin equivalent of $15,000 is at the time the act is performed.
Loki: that's alot
SN: Yes. :) It may seem strange, but it's worth it to me.
Loki: any chance for half up front?
SN: That can be arranged.
Loki: by wire? check?
SN: Haha. You know very well Bitcoin can't be sent that way.
Nikita frowned. It was a very odd scam. Traps can be set with any currency, but cryptocurrency was a bit harder to crack making it an uncommon choice for these people. He didn't see any way for this guy to get money out of him.
If it was a troll trying to bait people into burning money, the compensation was more than enough to cover a potential loss. Even the most naive would likely start with a low amount like $1. Then all one had to do was burn however much was paid from the prior burning. So if someone then burned $3, but wasn't paid for that, they only really lost $1. Was he counting on people getting greedy and jumping higher faster than was wise? Yet, he seemed to expect his victims to be familiar with cryptocurrency. The average joe didn't know it couldn't be sent by wire.
Loki: what does SN stand for?
SN: Satoshi Nakamoto :)
Nikita let out a sharp laugh.
SN: Only a pseudonym, of course. But is suits my purposes. As Loki, the trickster god, serves yours.
Loki: what do u mean?
SN: Oh you know, your tricky little crusade against internet scammers. Loki is a fitting mantle for that purpose, though I would have preferred Veles myself. You can stop writing like that, by the way. I imagine it bugs you.
Nikita's eyes widened in shock.
Loki: How do you know about that?
SN: I said I knew you by your reputation didn't I? I recently hacked into a few of the accounts you've had contact with. Research on how to get people to do things like this, you know? It's amazing that people who make a living on the security failings of others don't take more precautions themselves. Anyway, I greatly enjoyed your correspondences. I hope that this proves to you I am much more than a con artist. I can't explain why, but these tasks are legitimately useful to me. And I am willing to pay well to have them done, as I cannot do them myself.
Nikita abruptly got up from his desk. This was supremely bizarre. Frightening, but also thrilling. He wasn't certain he bought Satoshi's story, but he was certain this was unlike anything he had seen before.
As quickly as possible he grabbed a pot, his wallet, his phone, and a lighter. He recorded himself burning two $20 bills. This was a unique situation, and he wouldn't mind losing $40 if it brought him closer to answers.
Nikita returned to the computer and uploaded the video. He converted it to a format that stripped it of metadata, and uploaded it to the chatroom along with details for his Bitcoin wallet.
Loki: All right, put your money where your mouth is.
There was silence for a while. Nikita kept his eye on the chat and on his wallet. Then, a little over an hour later, there is was. 0.01675 Bitcoin. It really didn't answer anything. It would have been simpler if the transaction had never come. Instead, it did. And it showed Satoshi was serious. Perhaps delusional, but at least somewhat serious.
Nikita went back to the chatroom.
Loki: Where is it you wanted me to urinate?
The response was instantaneous.
SN: Anywhere within a 2 mile radius of the Ft. Worth Bureau of Engraving and Printing Facility. It must be at night. It must be either the 12th or the 13th. Those are your restrictions. Half of your money has been sent up front. After you complete the task, I will send more, and I will be able to explain further.
-
(Continued in comment)
|
Angus cradled the box, a reminder of where he had once come from, and how far he still had to go. He inhaled and caught the scent of a lake, a thick musty scent reminding him of where he was from.
The stranger had met him in a pub one night, clad in a thick black coat, with red gloves. It had all seemed rather much like a poor spy movie but he needed money, and wasn't fussed about the details. One craigslist meeting later, and there he was. The man tipped his hat, some old 50's thing at the bartender. Jamie nodded and fumbled around beneath the bar for a couple of bottles. Hesitantly at first and then with a shrug Angus wrapped his lips around the glass. It burnt on the way down but was followed by an aroma of nuts that danced in his tounge. The stranger sipped his drink more lightly, taking short sharp tastes.
"Do you have it?"
Angus nodded and slid over his change, barley glancing at his benefactor.
"Old world money. You have no idea how hard it is to find that in my neck of the woods"
The stranger clenched the coins in his hand the leather groaning in protest.
"Fuck knows why you want it now where's the bitcoin"?
He reverently placed a sealed box on the counter. It barley made a sound.
"Here. 200 coins. Enjoy"
Angus finished his bottle with a beach and stumbled out the door. He had batley given the man a quid.
The black coated stranger called upon him three more times that month, always in a bar, always near a river. He had always come in that thick coat in red gloves and awful hat.
Of course eventually he would find out what was under that hat. It wasn't entirely pleasant truth be told. On their third meeting, he had gotten curious. On his way out, affecting a drunken stumble, he had grasped at the stranger. The hat had come loose for just a moment, but underneath was a thick scaley hide shimmering in the pubs glow.
He hadn't looked again.
Sorry for formatting I'm on mobile.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
*William? Can you assist me? I will give you one credit.*
I stared, straight-faced, at the flickering display of text before me. The cryptic looking email had made its way into my inbox, somehow avoiding the wrath of the spam filter. And now it sat before me, taunting me with its words.
I had no reason to believe it then, nor would I ever. At the time, a single credit fetched just short of a thousand dollars. I was by no means a starving student, but the prospect of an extra nine hundred dollars was too enticing to ignore. With a brief moment of hesitation, I heaved forward in my chair, and brought my fingers to the keyboard.
I typed back, simply to ask what the mystery figure wanted of me.
*I need you to deliver a letter.*
“A letter?” I spoke to nobody inparticular, and as my question echoed throughout the desolate room, an air of uneasiness washed over my body, like I was involved in some kind of new-age police sting. But sooner rather than later, greed filled my mind once again. It was too much money to ignore.
*“How can I trust you?”*
It spoke back, almost immediately. *Do you have a credit wallet?*
I thought for a moment that it could be a bot, some kind of system set up to harvest the names and numbers of credit wallets. But I paid it no mind, for I had nothing in mine anyway. There was no harm in going along with its scheme, and even if it backfired, I had nothing to lose.
*“TTT367G”*
Once again, an immediate response.
*Understood. I have deposited 0.1 Credits into your wallet.*
I was dumbfounded by the response, and didn't quite believe what it had just said. And so, expecting nothing to have changed, I opened my credit wallet, only to see to my shock, one tenth of a credit sitting snugly inside it – as if it always were.
In that moment I knew that what I was dealing with could indeed be the real deal, but I had come across many scams in the past, and was waiting for the next step to unfold. If I decided to bail there, I would have made an easy ninety dollars, hassle-free. But if I continued, I believed it could have increased tenfold.
*“Okay, what do you want me to do?”*
Unlike the messages before, the next one came with a brief delay. And although it was but seconds, for me it felt far longer than that.
*I need you to handwrite a letter and deliver it to the letterbox of 4 Faraway Court*
*In it, you must write, in capital letters, using red pen.*
*THE KING IS COMING*
I stopped, a pit forming in my stomach. The ominous message aside, the task seemed too simple to be worthy of the reward. The thoughts of a police sting once again surfaced in my mind, and I considered backing out once again – perhaps just to spend the ninety dollars he received just prior.
*“That's it?”*
*Yes.*
*I would also request that you do not speak of this to anyone.*
*“How can I be sure this isn't a sting?”*
*Two credits.*
I felt a grin creeping across my face at those words. Eighteen-hundred dollars. With money like that, my woes would be assuaged for a long time. I threw myself backwards into my seat and let out a thunderous sigh.
*“Okay. I'll do it.”*
_______
I was dressed in thick winter clothes on that day. Thick enough that I would hide my appearance if need be, but not too thick as to arouse suspicion. The letter was clutched tightly in one hand, my phone in the other. Faraway Court was, well, faraway from where I lived, and so I had to use the navigation system on my phone to make my way to it without becoming hopelessly lost. And all the time, I could feel my heartbeat through my tongue, as if I was committing a terrible crime.
I remember I made sure to make that letter with gloves on the whole time, with items sourced from a nearby university and the post office, afraid that anything I use could in some way be linked back to me. Not like it ever mattered.
Faraway Court was in a gated community, but as I approached the gates, I was let in as if by an unseen force. At first I assumed it was simply a gate triggered by a motion sensor, but I later found out that they let me in.
As I approached Faraway Court, a voice rang out from behind me.
“You're not from around here, are you?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, afraid of what I would turn to see. To my relief, it was not a policeman, but a middle-aged suburban dad, dressed loosely in a polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was the exemplary model of a upper-middle class man, and I was worried that he would have the attitude to match.
“I'm delivering a letter.” I held up the letter in my hand, crumpling it a bit in the process.
He sneered, as his face twisted into a grimace. “They have a post office for that, you know.”
“They lost my mail last time.” I backed away from him and continued down the street. But he was persistent.
“Hey! Stop right there!” He marched over to me, and as he did, he drew a phone from his shirt pocket. The last thing I needed was police interference, considering what I was doing was shifty enough. An urban kid dressed for the winter, on a warm spring day, in a gated community he did not belong to.
I considered my options at that time, and decided that running was the best choice. Thankfully, he opted not to pursue, and I managed to slide the letter into its respective letterbox, and made my way out, and back home. I remember my hands shaking the whole way home. I was always a straight-laced sort of kid, and what I did that day was the first thing I did that I considered a crime.
I settled into my room and sat down at my desk, only to notice the flickering words on the screen before me.
*The message has been received.*
*You have been compensated.*
I'm not proud to say that for a brief moment I forgot about the reward, and when I read those words I felt sick. As if I was an accomplice to some strange crime.
But when I checked my wallet and saw those two credits nested within it, my fears were abandoned, and replaced with a form of morbid glee. I considered responding to the mystery person, to thank them for the reward, but I felt it best not to.
At least, until they messaged me again.
*William? Can you assist me?*
*I will give you eight credits*
My sense of time seemed to stopped upon readong those words, and although I knew that I should have just cut my losses and run. The prospect of greater riches weighed on my mind too heavily, and I knew that I was already too far gone.
*“What do you want me to do?”*
*I need you to steal a phone.*
*The phone of your mayor.*
And without a second thought, I accepted.
* * *
^^/r/khaarus
|
Angus cradled the box, a reminder of where he had once come from, and how far he still had to go. He inhaled and caught the scent of a lake, a thick musty scent reminding him of where he was from.
The stranger had met him in a pub one night, clad in a thick black coat, with red gloves. It had all seemed rather much like a poor spy movie but he needed money, and wasn't fussed about the details. One craigslist meeting later, and there he was. The man tipped his hat, some old 50's thing at the bartender. Jamie nodded and fumbled around beneath the bar for a couple of bottles. Hesitantly at first and then with a shrug Angus wrapped his lips around the glass. It burnt on the way down but was followed by an aroma of nuts that danced in his tounge. The stranger sipped his drink more lightly, taking short sharp tastes.
"Do you have it?"
Angus nodded and slid over his change, barley glancing at his benefactor.
"Old world money. You have no idea how hard it is to find that in my neck of the woods"
The stranger clenched the coins in his hand the leather groaning in protest.
"Fuck knows why you want it now where's the bitcoin"?
He reverently placed a sealed box on the counter. It barley made a sound.
"Here. 200 coins. Enjoy"
Angus finished his bottle with a beach and stumbled out the door. He had batley given the man a quid.
The black coated stranger called upon him three more times that month, always in a bar, always near a river. He had always come in that thick coat in red gloves and awful hat.
Of course eventually he would find out what was under that hat. It wasn't entirely pleasant truth be told. On their third meeting, he had gotten curious. On his way out, affecting a drunken stumble, he had grasped at the stranger. The hat had come loose for just a moment, but underneath was a thick scaley hide shimmering in the pubs glow.
He hadn't looked again.
Sorry for formatting I'm on mobile.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
0900, July 4, 2022: (Reuters Live News Report)
"The rogue, three kilometer wide, unmanned spacecraft that emerged from the Pacific Ocean last night was able to avoid all missile, laser, and EMP efforts from the US Republic (USR), Russia, and China.
Mysterious triangle and tube craft were seen engaging this threat as well. The USR government disclosed an hour ago that the triangles and tubes are part of America's secret space fleet in commission since the 1960's!
The unmanned spacecraft left our atmosphere without firing any weapons in self defense. Scientists say that the signature of material is a never before seen metal with some type of plasma drive.
The black craft accelerated rapidly into space after an hour of erratic defensive movements in atmosphere. Satellites show that it has now separated into six distinct ships and all six are headed to Mars. The entire global scientific community is racing to understand how this was designed in secret and able to avoid all human weaponry.
Conspiracy and science circles are rife with theories ranging from aliens to ancient advanced civilizations and rogue artificial intelligences. A top AI expert was quoted on a hot mic 20 minutes ago as saying, “Shit, this looks like the AI nightmare I predicted two years ago.”
This just in! USR Navy submarines and special forces have secured the launch and design facility about 300 miles south of Hawaii without a fight. It is a giant underwater cavern that appears to have been designed and created without human assistance. No evidence of weaponry has been found.
Riots have broken out across the globe as the people demand to know what group is responsible and what other secrets are being kept. Unprecedented cooperation is now underway between countries of Earth to understand this terrifying event and calm the masses. Teams from all over the globe are sharing all possible data sets and theories.
Fleets of America's newly disclosed secret space program continue deployment in hot pursuit, but are having difficulty in keeping pace. They are no longer attacking the automated ship since it is moving away from Earth peacefully. We will keep you updated about this dizzying series of events as it unfolds…”
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
I flipped my phone up and down, played with it like it was a basketball making it rotate with my fingers and passing it from one hand to the other in quick succession; a dangerous activity sure, but I've done it so much and so many times that it never fell.
Okay, that's a lie, I broke various phone thanks to this particular activity, but hey girls loved it!
Actually no, they didn't even spare me a glance, and those who did look at me with eyes of 'what the fuck is he doing' and shook their heads in disappointment. well, after this, everyone is going to look at me in a new light, probably.
I look at the numbers on the elevator panel, only 10 more floors until I reach my destination. I was alone in the elevator, with only the dreadful music making me company, awful. I would have preferred something a little bit more epic, suspense-like considering what I was about to do.
Not that I knew what I was about to do, well I *knew* but I didn't know what was going to happen afterward
*Other than me getting an awful lot of bitcoins and a punch to the face*
Only two more floors until I reach my destination, started to flex a little in an attempt to keep the nervousness at bay. I turn on my phone and check the email the person named 'LoveMachine' sent me just an hour ago.
"*Go to the tall building on Liberator AV, the one with a lot of flowers on front, and take the elevator to floor 32*"
Of course, I knew which building they were talking about, I lived there, after all, a very nice coincidence.
"*And after that? what do I have to do?*" I responded, at the time I had no intention of going anywhere
"*Go into the floor, to the family that owns the whole floor and approach the man with a big beard and fat tummy; tell him to go fuck himself*"
"*lol, no*"
*"Please, Link. I already sent you 0,01404756 bitcoin, you'll receive 0,01404756 more once the task is done"*
I checked my online wallet to see if what they were saying was true, and indeed there it was shining like a gold coin thanks to my imagination. it took me a while digest it, the first thing I thought was to keep the bitcoin and ignore LoveMachine messages, but I discarded that thought quickly. I wasn't like those douches on the internet.
*"Alright, I'll do it,*" I'm not really going to tell him to go fuck himself! I'll just go in there and say hi, there is no way they'll know. LoveMachine must be some brat with too much money to spend "*I'm risking my beautiful face in the process so I hope you make it worth my while. When do I have to go?"*
"*Right now*"
I'm waiting for the elevator doors to open, a few seconds have passed since I reached floor 32, I knew the place, it belonged to the Johnsons a rich family, a *very* rich family, and according to the descriptions LoveMachine gave me the man I must talk to is Rick Jhonson, a tower of a man and very scary to boot.
The elevator doors open. I haven't even gone inside and I already want to go home and forget everything, just send the bitcoins back to the source and pretend nothing happened.
"Greetings, are you a visitor?" said the female robot that appeared in front of me, wearing a maid outfit and an artificial smile. Never really liked these things. "I'm afraid the master is quite busy right now, as you can hear he is currently disciplining young Lillie"
*Lillie? I didn't know he had a daughter*
I can hear cries behind the entrance, it made my skin shiver, I really wanted to go home and pretend none of this happened.
"A-ah I see," I said, "I'll come back later then!"
*Goodbye money* I thought while feeling something grip at my stomach, making a bit of sweat appear on my forehead. The screams of this 'Lillie girl' are ringing in my ears *I really, really shouldn't be here*
"It's unfair isn't it?" said the female robot, to my back "it always gets like this when he is mad, he is so big and she is so small. I don't think he realizes how much damage is being done to her"
I can hear spanks in the distance, a bang, a shout, a cry, all of them meddled together making me jump each time
"...It's a shame" why does the robot keep talking to me, why is she telling me that? they should have restrictions on them about private stuff. "but it's alright, he can fix her, he always does."
why haven't I taken the elevator yet?
I clench my teeth. the noise makes my head hurt.
"...Fuck it"
"Bad words aren't nice" I forced myself into the room, ignoring the robot and her creepy smile, I'm greeted with another scene, one more sinister with most of the house a mess, plates on the floor, tables flipped, chairs scattered, and a tower of a man much larger than I'll ever be and a small girl on the floor crying and half naked.
The man, no. Rick Johnson's face loses color when he looks at my direction. Lillie looks at me like she can't believe what she is seeing.
I really, really shouldn't be here.
***
That was fun to write, might do a part 2, let me know what you guys think!
Some tips would be appreciated too!
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
Andrew stared at his phone screen, surprised by the strange email he'd received;
>RepLY tO THis eMAil &amp receive !0)0 LItECOins
He was bewildered:
He moved all his emails to a private domain, and wrote strict spam filtering code to make sure his time wouldn't get wasted by emails like this.
He copied the mail to a test machine, and ran it through his filters;
None of the rules were triggered.
Curious, he opened his old google account, and sent the same email from that account.
He waited five minutes, then 10.
After fifteen minutes had passed, nothing was received.
Accessing the filter logs, he could see that the email he'd sent to himself was indeed blocked.
His curiosity piqued, he opened the email;
>Hello Andrew,
>Please pardon my crude writing, however I needed to get your attention, and this seemed like the best route.
>If you can complete a small task for me, I will transfer 1500 Litecoins to a wallet of your choice.
>If you are interested, please reply to this email.
>If my offer isn't for you, simply delete this email, and I promise you that you won't be getting any more spam emails.
>Kindest regards,
>M.
Andrew was perplexed;
He figured that he would at least learn how someone managed to beat his spam filter, but when he moved to reply, he realized that there was no sender address.
Still, he pressed the reply button, and just as he did, a notification flashed on his phone, informing him he'd received a new email.
>Thank you for accepting my request, I'm sure our cooperation would come to fruition very soon.
>Below are the keys for two cold storage wallets that have the agreed upon payment.
>The access keys for the 20% up front payment is also listed below.
>I will send you the mission details after you've transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Andrew looked at the codes, and indeed the wallets both contained the amounts in the email.
He scratched his chin, trying to figure out who was setting him up.
1500 Litecoins would be just under a hundred thousand, and he had some plans that could use that amount of money.
Weighing the pros and cons, he decided that the risk is worth it, and transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Another beep;
>Thank you for accepting.
>The details of the contract are as follows:
>Your door bell will ring in 30 minutes.
>Wait exactly 45 seconds before opening it. On your doormat, you will find a blank USB drive.
>You will create a clean fork of your spam filter, and upload it to the drive.
>In three hours you will hear a pattern knocked on your door.
>Provide the drive to the one at the door without saying anything.
Andrew looked at the request, and couldn't help but think that he was getting the short end of the stick.
He'd kept his spam filter code mostly for one reason:
If it was out there, spammers would learn to circumvent it.
There was a second reason as well though, which was that no one would buy it from him.
He hit reply:
>I want 15.
A minute passed, and then:
>Please check the wallet now.
And there, he saw 14,700 coins.
He'd set about preparing and sanitizing his code, making sure all identifying libraries have been scrubbed clean.
\------------------------------------------------------
Jack clenched his fists, trying to squeeze the nerves out of his.
he looked at the anonymous email again:
>Light target practice for 3BTC.
>Thank you for accepting this mission Jack.
>The terms of your contract are as follows:
>Head over to Parkway Drive 27.
>In the northeastern room you will find a sniper rifle.
>Your mission is to destroy a USB drive.
>As you observe Parkway Drive 18, you will see a person place a small object on the doormat before ringing the doorbell.
>If the door isn't opened within 50 seconds of being rung, please shoot at the box.
>Regardless of the situation, you will be paid.
And so Jack waited.
He was there for nearly two hours when a figure finally approached the door and placed an elongated package under it.
As they rang the bell, Jack spotted a flash in the corner of his eye.
He noted the location of the flash, and then looked through the scope.
As he counted 43, the door opened, and a figure hastily snatched the box before closing the door again.
He sighed with relief, and quickly aimed the rifle scope at where he spotted the flash previously, but saw nothing.
\------------------------------------------------------
I'll end this here in the meantime, if there's demand, I'll finish this.
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
"I need several people to measure their weight in kilograms or lbs (has to be specified) for an experiment. 0.5 BTC/person will be awarded at the end of the experiment, 0.05 BTC will be given in advance."
He was intrigued by this offer. The only thing he needed to do was to measure his weight report his results, so he checked the Bitcoin exchange rate.
"MOTHERFUCKER"
He was surprised to see that the BTC/USD has dramatically risen since the last time he checked. Now it clocked at 7K per BTC. With just that he would make about 3 months worth of salaries in several minutes. So he quickly sent a message to this mysterious person along with his BTC address. The message said that 0.05 BTC would be given in advance so it was trivially easy to check if it was a prank or not. Only several seconds after he pressed "SEND", he got a reply. That was fast. he thought, he opened the message:
"Please use your scale to measure your weight as soon as you read this message. If the scale is digital then write down the result and send it to me. If it's analog take a picture of your scale and send the picture. For about 30 minutes don't drink or eat or go to the toilet or do anything that will singnificantly change your weight. After 30 minutes, specifically at 22:30:00 GMT (this message was sent at 22:01:35 GMT for reference) measure your weight again and send me the results again. Just to be sure I'll send you a message on when exactly you should measure your weight.
Advance payment of 0.05 BTC was made at BTC address XXXXXX"
He opened his Bitcoin wallet and, indeed, this random Internet person just gave him $350 in Bitcoin. This was practically free money.
So he did as instructed, he measured his weight in his digital scale he sent the results and then he waited for 30 minutes. At exactly 22:30:00 GMT:
"Go now measure your weight and send me the results. If you don't send me your results in 5 minutes you won't get the promised payment"
He was surprised by this arbitrary limit but he couldn't complain. This person was giving him 3.5K to do this very simple task. But as he weighed himself he noticed something weird. His weight was 0.6 kg larger that before. He didn't drink or eat anything, as instructed, and he checked beforehand that the weight scale was working correctly. He tried to weight himself again and he still was 0.6 kg heavier than before. He didn't have time to check whether the weight scale broke but if he sent to him the new measurement possibly that Internet guy would think that he was lying and not give him payment. So with no other option he sent the new measurement to him.
"Is this the measurement that your weight scale showed?"
"I didn't drink or eat anything as you instructed, I don't know why the scale showed this wrong number."
"Don't worry thanks to this data the experiment was a success. I've just paid you 0.5 BTC at your address as promised".
He opened the wallet and he saw that indeed he was 0.5 BTC richer now. That was awesome. If only making money was that easy. While he was ruminating about what would he do with this money, he wondered about what, exactly, was this experiment? What was the usefulness of his weight? And why measure it at such specific times? And what happened with the weight scale that changed its measurement? He couldn't wrap his head around it so instead he fell to sleep. He had a lot of time tomorrow to continue speculating about the nature of the experiment. It shouldn't be important, anyway.
~MEANWHILE SOMEWHERE ELSE~
The AI was studying the data, watching for patterns and one significant pattern stood out "The teleportation experiment was a success". At a moment's notice the AI began producing countless nanofactories and it teleported them at distant exo-planets, and instructed them to collect energy, perform calculations and produce more nanofactories. Each teleportation caused ripples in the spacetime. They would be noticeable by human scientists studying about gravitational waves and those handling heavy or sensitive equipment but it didn't matter. At the rate it was producing nanofactories, it will have conquered the entire universe, in less than 3 hours. Nothing can stop it anymore.
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
*$10,000,000.*
Steven picked up the device. It seemed so small; so insignificant. He had no idea what it was, or what it could do - all he knew was that he had to place it in the mainframe. Just one simple task and all that money would be his.
He had unrestricted access to the room - he didn't even need to sign in. He was clearly chosen for a reason; they knew who he was. They must have known what had happened to him, and used this as leverage - or they were the ones that did it to him, more likely.
After his bank account was hacked and emptied, after his wife and kids left him, he truly had no choice. An anonymous stranger had told her about the whoring and the gambling, and now an anonymous stranger was offering him an insane amount of money to do an insane thing. There was no doubt that they were connected.
But with this money, he could get his wife back. He could get his life back. Just putting some small little thing on a mainframe, and he could go back to the life he always had. A better one, in fact.
He left the building afterwards, feeling an immense amount of pressure lift off of him. He climbed into his car, announcing his destination. The car began driving by itself. He wouldn't have to get rid of it either anymore, and that comforted him.
He thought about his wife and kids. Would they take him back?
He was nearing home. He thought about all of them still being there, together; this money could make it a reality. Whatever that device did, whatever the anonymous organisation planned to do - he didn't have to worry about it anymore. He could take his family with him. They would never have to worry about a thing ever again.
The car started speeding up, as if matching his excitement, his adrenalin. At first, he welcomed it - then it began to scare him. The car was not supposed to break the speed limit, yet the speedometer kept ticking up.
He took the wheel, intending to override the automatic controls. He applied the breaks, but the car just drove faster. His car turned into the oncoming lane, heading directly towards a truck.
He was no longer in control.
Just like his life; he was not longer in control.
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
Nikita scrolled through his spam folder, searching for another target. There were the usual fake job offers, the desperate pleas for assistant with medical emergencies, the business propositions. Each one a trap to lure in the naive by pretending to be naive themselves. Often the exhortations where purposely misspelled as a way to weed out the strong from the herd. As a general rule, the type of person who would look askance at a lower-case “i” in a professional email was not the type you wanted to waste your time conning.
For most, such emails were an annoyance. For Nikita, they provided fuel for his hobby. He loved baiting the scammers, pretending to fall into their traps, donning the role of a fool so bumbling he even thwarted attempts to get to his money through his idiocy. And if he could waste the time of those who would leech society, that was a plus.
Nikita stopped his scrolling as his eye caught a particularly strange subject line.
“BITCOIN IN EXCHANGE FOR URINATION AND BURNING”
Despite being somewhat of an expert, Nikita furrowed his brow. It seemed an odd approach for a scam. There were undoubtedly people willing to sell videos of watersports and self-harm for money, but it wasn’t the type of thing you canvassed randoms for. It was too nice. Maybe these guys were new to the game? He clicked into the email.
“To Whom it May Concern,
I am seeking service in two areas.
First, I am willing to pay Bitcoin in exchange for the video evidence of Federal Reserve Notes being burned. The amount paid will be equal to triple the amount burned. For example, if a $1 bill is burned I will pay out the equivalent of $3 in Bitcoin. At that stage, if you are willing to send me picture evidence that you received payment in your Bitcoin wallet, I will be willing to participate in the transaction again. There is no limit to the amount of times I will participate in this offer, and no limit to the amount of cash I will pay to have burned.
Second, I am looking for an individual to urinate outside in a geographical range of my choosing.
Both of these tasks are time sensitive and the offer for their completion will be revoked in one week, on November 14, 12:00 AM GMT.
I am not willing to communicate through email. If you wish to contact me to accept the offer, please use my private chat room at chatterboxxer.cm/room/JRTY3H5
Sincerely,
S.N.”
It was certainly a unique way to get someone to click a malicious link. Nikita examined it, expecting to find a URL redirect to a virus download. But it seemed to lead to an actual site. He spent a few minutes researching chatterbox and the site appeared to be a legitimate method for setting up chat rooms accessible only to those with the link.
Still suspicious, Nikita opened a virtual box and entered the URL using it. This way, if a virus somehow did get through it would be contained.
He was prompted to enter a screen name. As he typed the alias he always used for this hobby, he thought of how inefficient a live chat room must be for scamming. Was it a team taking shifts to be there whenever someone showed up?
Nikita typed his first message.
Loki: hello? is anyone there?
He only had to wait a moment for a response.
SN: Loki! I’m glad it is you who responded. I sent this to quite a few people, but you were one of my favorites.
Loki: haha tthanks. have we met
SN: Oh no, I only know you by your reputation.
Loki: you mean for burning stuff? i do like that. not sure about the peeing stuff/meeting someone in person. maybe if the price is right. you got a freeky fetish?
SN: I can see why you would think that, but no. I only require video evidence for the burning. And I won't be present for the urination. You'll be alone, and you'll have enough of a choice in where to pee that you can be reasonably certain a camera won't pick you up.
Loki: how will you know i pee?
SN: I'm good at reading people. I'll know. :) Plus, at that point I expect you to have earned quite a bit from the burning before you are willing to do that task, so you will trust my intention to follow through with payment.
Loki: how much for the pee?
SN: Whatever the Bitcoin equivalent of $15,000 is at the time the act is performed.
Loki: that's alot
SN: Yes. :) It may seem strange, but it's worth it to me.
Loki: any chance for half up front?
SN: That can be arranged.
Loki: by wire? check?
SN: Haha. You know very well Bitcoin can't be sent that way.
Nikita frowned. It was a very odd scam. Traps can be set with any currency, but cryptocurrency was a bit harder to crack making it an uncommon choice for these people. He didn't see any way for this guy to get money out of him.
If it was a troll trying to bait people into burning money, the compensation was more than enough to cover a potential loss. Even the most naive would likely start with a low amount like $1. Then all one had to do was burn however much was paid from the prior burning. So if someone then burned $3, but wasn't paid for that, they only really lost $1. Was he counting on people getting greedy and jumping higher faster than was wise? Yet, he seemed to expect his victims to be familiar with cryptocurrency. The average joe didn't know it couldn't be sent by wire.
Loki: what does SN stand for?
SN: Satoshi Nakamoto :)
Nikita let out a sharp laugh.
SN: Only a pseudonym, of course. But is suits my purposes. As Loki, the trickster god, serves yours.
Loki: what do u mean?
SN: Oh you know, your tricky little crusade against internet scammers. Loki is a fitting mantle for that purpose, though I would have preferred Veles myself. You can stop writing like that, by the way. I imagine it bugs you.
Nikita's eyes widened in shock.
Loki: How do you know about that?
SN: I said I knew you by your reputation didn't I? I recently hacked into a few of the accounts you've had contact with. Research on how to get people to do things like this, you know? It's amazing that people who make a living on the security failings of others don't take more precautions themselves. Anyway, I greatly enjoyed your correspondences. I hope that this proves to you I am much more than a con artist. I can't explain why, but these tasks are legitimately useful to me. And I am willing to pay well to have them done, as I cannot do them myself.
Nikita abruptly got up from his desk. This was supremely bizarre. Frightening, but also thrilling. He wasn't certain he bought Satoshi's story, but he was certain this was unlike anything he had seen before.
As quickly as possible he grabbed a pot, his wallet, his phone, and a lighter. He recorded himself burning two $20 bills. This was a unique situation, and he wouldn't mind losing $40 if it brought him closer to answers.
Nikita returned to the computer and uploaded the video. He converted it to a format that stripped it of metadata, and uploaded it to the chatroom along with details for his Bitcoin wallet.
Loki: All right, put your money where your mouth is.
There was silence for a while. Nikita kept his eye on the chat and on his wallet. Then, a little over an hour later, there is was. 0.01675 Bitcoin. It really didn't answer anything. It would have been simpler if the transaction had never come. Instead, it did. And it showed Satoshi was serious. Perhaps delusional, but at least somewhat serious.
Nikita went back to the chatroom.
Loki: Where is it you wanted me to urinate?
The response was instantaneous.
SN: Anywhere within a 2 mile radius of the Ft. Worth Bureau of Engraving and Printing Facility. It must be at night. It must be either the 12th or the 13th. Those are your restrictions. Half of your money has been sent up front. After you complete the task, I will send more, and I will be able to explain further.
-
(Continued in comment)
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
I wake up how I often do, covered in dry vomit with a parched throat.
A divorce can nearly kill a man, but that's neither here nor there. I've given up, and cannot bring myself to return from the brink.
I wake up on a futon, in my apartment. This part is good. Not a dumpster or a gutter, as cliche as that may be. Cardboard retains heat very well, and isn't the worst place to spend a night.
Mid morning light gives that obnoxious shine of new beginnings, and I can see the flecks of dust dance their happy random paths through the air. More motes than I can count.
My phone vibrates. Over and over again, cutting through the silence.
I roll over and hastily type in my password.
A new text. Who the fuck is texting me? A lawyer? Eat shit and die.
More vibrations, more texts. More confusion.
What the hell does it even say?
'Need some extra money?'
Who the fuck is asking?
Never mind. Obviously a scam. Shall I give you my social security while I'm at it?
Fuck off.
I spend my next amount of time washing myself, wiping off thick hard clumps into a sink clogged with various items. Egg shells, ancient pasta, coagulated sauces. The usual.
Once I feel partially clean I check my phone again.
'Alexander K. Marsh. Father of two, living alone. Born 7/2/78. Formerly employed as a business analyst, but fired after discovering his wife unfaithful with his boss. Beat his boss nearly to death. In desperate need of financial assistance for lawyers.'
Well that's mostly true. I actually had felt pretty certain I'd killed him, but that's irrelevant.
'If you need money, respond to this text message.'
I look around myself, eyeing empty boxes and packages, carcasses of delivery, foreign objects to remind myself of my new position in life. From superstar hire to forgotten fuck up. Isn't this how life tends to go?
I respond, the letters vibrating softly as I tap the screen. Type and tap with the soul of a dead man. Who cares if they steal all my information? I may as well be dead.
Wait. I sit and wait and pray for death but it doesn't come.
Another vibrate, the long vibration of a new text message. Is it my bitch of an ex wife?
No.
It appears to be our mysterious benefactor. Still a half step from telling him to suck a dick.
'Outside your building you will find a paper bag. Take the note inside and read it to a man at your favorite coffee shop. The one you took Ali to on your first date.'
How the fuck does it know that?
Surreal, I pull on actual unsoiled pants and a plain blue button down. The only clean clothes I have left.
Out the hall. Bid a good morning to Mr. Klaskowitz, who tells me to fuck off.
I like him.
Down the stairs, trot, trot, trot. No elevator for me.
Into the briskness of morning, that bright sunshine that denotes a new day for you to squander, another opportunity to fail. How a morning brings out the best in me.
Near the corner is a plain brown paper bag. I half expect for a sandwich and a note from my mom wishing me a good day at school.
Down the street for what feels like forever, with that detachment a man feels when surrounded by strangers. Engulfed in humanity but so far removed from it.
There it is.
A failing coffee shop, overpriced bagels and watered down sewage based coffee.
Ali and I had sat across from each other, awkwardly trying to get to know each other after drunkenly fucking our brains out the night before. The way two people try to find connection desperately, even though deep down they know it isn't there.
Ding ding goes the bell by the door.
Sit down.
Wait.
Attempt to not puke.
There are a few women in the shop, but only one man. He sits in jeans and a hoodie, pretending to read a paper. I recognized that tactic. Used it all the time when Ali would yell at me in the morning.
I get up, walk over, nearly trip, and pull up a chair.
Reach into the bag.
Pull out a strip of yellow paper.
'Echo, Foxtrot, Bees in the trees. Light the pig, throw the bottle.'
No response from the man.
The fuck am I doing?
He pulls out his phone and quickly taps letters into his phone, maintaining an uncomfortable level of eye contact.
Somehow this is the right man.
"Ever heard of crypto-currency, dead man?"
I shrug.
"What, like bitcoin?"
A chortle.
"Yeah, like bitcoin. You're not getting paid in cash, but call this man."
Another strip of similarly colored paper. Part of me wants to tell him to eat shit, that this isn't exactly a fair deal, but whatever. All I had to do was walk to a street and relive a memory from a woman I can't stand thinking about. Whatever.
Out the door, back towards the apartment.
Down the street, a familiar face.
Brown hair, brown eyes. Sharp facial features. A slim, short frame.
Ali.
She isn't with fuck face the boss, but I don't know what to do. Walk by her and ignore her, I guess.
I stop and watch the man I just met drop off a lunch box near a police car. No one seems to notice.
Odd.
Turn back to the oncoming surge of people, forgettable faces but Ali drawing closer.
She's enraged. At me, or something else, I don't really consider it my problem anymore.
An explosion.
The air sunders with the collapse and force of violence, I cannot even register what has happened but feel myself thrown forward.
Dust clogs the air, making it difficult to breathe.
I can barely hear, I must have burst an ear drum. People stagger around me. I feel rather than hear the phone vibration in my pocket.
'Well done, meatbag.'
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Ali grabs my collar out of nowhere, the shock seems to have sunk into the crowd but not into her. She hauls me away, pushing me into an alley with the anger of an inconvenienced mother.
Her lips move but I can't hear her.
Once upon a time I would kiss her. But that time has passed.
"Do you have any idea what the fuck you've just done?"
Definitely her voice. Sirens, whirling vehicles past us. The crowd flees, seeking shelter. Perhaps a second attack?
I hear the crack of what I assume to be gunfire, but slump against the brick behind me.
Ali grabs me again, showing me her phone.
'Take the job to protect Alex and get a hefty payday'
"I don't know what the fuck you've gotten yourself into, but you're in deep shit."
She hauls me up, and for the first time I see a pistol in her right hand.
"Move, dipshit! Right fucking now!"
She leads me away at gun point. What kind of dream is this?
More yelling, more screaming, more crying. Cracks and gunfire in the street near us. A blast in the distance. What the hell is going on?
Ali pushes me forward, gun in hand, clawed nails in my neck.
Down the alley, a black vehicle waits with a door wide open.
To what, I do not know.
I only have one question but a stranger lives in my body, asking for me.
"Where are the kids?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Will try to get back to this soon - r/storiesfromapotato
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
*William? Can you assist me? I will give you one credit.*
I stared, straight-faced, at the flickering display of text before me. The cryptic looking email had made its way into my inbox, somehow avoiding the wrath of the spam filter. And now it sat before me, taunting me with its words.
I had no reason to believe it then, nor would I ever. At the time, a single credit fetched just short of a thousand dollars. I was by no means a starving student, but the prospect of an extra nine hundred dollars was too enticing to ignore. With a brief moment of hesitation, I heaved forward in my chair, and brought my fingers to the keyboard.
I typed back, simply to ask what the mystery figure wanted of me.
*I need you to deliver a letter.*
“A letter?” I spoke to nobody inparticular, and as my question echoed throughout the desolate room, an air of uneasiness washed over my body, like I was involved in some kind of new-age police sting. But sooner rather than later, greed filled my mind once again. It was too much money to ignore.
*“How can I trust you?”*
It spoke back, almost immediately. *Do you have a credit wallet?*
I thought for a moment that it could be a bot, some kind of system set up to harvest the names and numbers of credit wallets. But I paid it no mind, for I had nothing in mine anyway. There was no harm in going along with its scheme, and even if it backfired, I had nothing to lose.
*“TTT367G”*
Once again, an immediate response.
*Understood. I have deposited 0.1 Credits into your wallet.*
I was dumbfounded by the response, and didn't quite believe what it had just said. And so, expecting nothing to have changed, I opened my credit wallet, only to see to my shock, one tenth of a credit sitting snugly inside it – as if it always were.
In that moment I knew that what I was dealing with could indeed be the real deal, but I had come across many scams in the past, and was waiting for the next step to unfold. If I decided to bail there, I would have made an easy ninety dollars, hassle-free. But if I continued, I believed it could have increased tenfold.
*“Okay, what do you want me to do?”*
Unlike the messages before, the next one came with a brief delay. And although it was but seconds, for me it felt far longer than that.
*I need you to handwrite a letter and deliver it to the letterbox of 4 Faraway Court*
*In it, you must write, in capital letters, using red pen.*
*THE KING IS COMING*
I stopped, a pit forming in my stomach. The ominous message aside, the task seemed too simple to be worthy of the reward. The thoughts of a police sting once again surfaced in my mind, and I considered backing out once again – perhaps just to spend the ninety dollars he received just prior.
*“That's it?”*
*Yes.*
*I would also request that you do not speak of this to anyone.*
*“How can I be sure this isn't a sting?”*
*Two credits.*
I felt a grin creeping across my face at those words. Eighteen-hundred dollars. With money like that, my woes would be assuaged for a long time. I threw myself backwards into my seat and let out a thunderous sigh.
*“Okay. I'll do it.”*
_______
I was dressed in thick winter clothes on that day. Thick enough that I would hide my appearance if need be, but not too thick as to arouse suspicion. The letter was clutched tightly in one hand, my phone in the other. Faraway Court was, well, faraway from where I lived, and so I had to use the navigation system on my phone to make my way to it without becoming hopelessly lost. And all the time, I could feel my heartbeat through my tongue, as if I was committing a terrible crime.
I remember I made sure to make that letter with gloves on the whole time, with items sourced from a nearby university and the post office, afraid that anything I use could in some way be linked back to me. Not like it ever mattered.
Faraway Court was in a gated community, but as I approached the gates, I was let in as if by an unseen force. At first I assumed it was simply a gate triggered by a motion sensor, but I later found out that they let me in.
As I approached Faraway Court, a voice rang out from behind me.
“You're not from around here, are you?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, afraid of what I would turn to see. To my relief, it was not a policeman, but a middle-aged suburban dad, dressed loosely in a polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was the exemplary model of a upper-middle class man, and I was worried that he would have the attitude to match.
“I'm delivering a letter.” I held up the letter in my hand, crumpling it a bit in the process.
He sneered, as his face twisted into a grimace. “They have a post office for that, you know.”
“They lost my mail last time.” I backed away from him and continued down the street. But he was persistent.
“Hey! Stop right there!” He marched over to me, and as he did, he drew a phone from his shirt pocket. The last thing I needed was police interference, considering what I was doing was shifty enough. An urban kid dressed for the winter, on a warm spring day, in a gated community he did not belong to.
I considered my options at that time, and decided that running was the best choice. Thankfully, he opted not to pursue, and I managed to slide the letter into its respective letterbox, and made my way out, and back home. I remember my hands shaking the whole way home. I was always a straight-laced sort of kid, and what I did that day was the first thing I did that I considered a crime.
I settled into my room and sat down at my desk, only to notice the flickering words on the screen before me.
*The message has been received.*
*You have been compensated.*
I'm not proud to say that for a brief moment I forgot about the reward, and when I read those words I felt sick. As if I was an accomplice to some strange crime.
But when I checked my wallet and saw those two credits nested within it, my fears were abandoned, and replaced with a form of morbid glee. I considered responding to the mystery person, to thank them for the reward, but I felt it best not to.
At least, until they messaged me again.
*William? Can you assist me?*
*I will give you eight credits*
My sense of time seemed to stopped upon readong those words, and although I knew that I should have just cut my losses and run. The prospect of greater riches weighed on my mind too heavily, and I knew that I was already too far gone.
*“What do you want me to do?”*
*I need you to steal a phone.*
*The phone of your mayor.*
And without a second thought, I accepted.
* * *
^^/r/khaarus
|
Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
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>Here are two bitcoins.
>Two more if you throw away your lunchbox on your way home from school.
Tim stared wide-eyed at the screen of his computer. The email wasn’t lying. Quickly, he stuffed his mouth with the last of his sandwich and hurried out of the cafeteria, clutching the plastic lunchbox tightly.
Littering was a serious crime, but the message hadn’t said anything about not throwing it in the trash. He knew there was a garbage container on his block.
Upon reaching the container, he quickly tossed it in and heard the notification of a new email. He looked at the screen. Another two bitcoins were now his. Smiling, he shook his head.
He was just about to leave when he noticed a leg sticking out of a garbage container. It was a delicate leg, with smooth creamy skin and a bundle of cables coming out of the knee.
Ever since the Roger Lowick’s groundbreaking contribution to the fields of AI and robo-aesthetics, the androids had been a vital part of society. If you had enough money you could invest in drones to work for you, look after your children, or do house chores.
Tim ran his fingers down the calf of the discarded leg. It felt like real skin – not one of those dermoplastic substitutes. Maybe he could build something from it – perhaps a dog toy for Bobo? It was obviously broken and it would probably be hard to repair, but even if he failed, it would be good practice for next year’s class in advanced robotics.
He untangled the cables from other loose junk, and then took a firm grip around the ankle and under the back of the knee. He grunted and let out a sigh. The leg was stuck to something.
“Fuck it,” he said and threw off his jacket and backpack.
He rolled up his sleeves and then scaled the large container. The leg didn’t end at the knee like he had first thought. It was attached to a fully intact thigh. He climbed into the container and started digging through the trash. With all the money he now had, he could easily afford a new school uniform.
He felt like an archeologist uncovering an ancient relic. The more pizza boxes, milk bottles, and rotting fruit he tossed to the side the higher his spirits rose – this wasn’t the leg of some antique cleaning bot, this was…
As he moved a large plastic bag filled with shredded paper, his heart skipped a beat. He found himself looking at the face of an android angel – that was the first description that came to his excited mind. Sure, her golden hair, splayed out like a Gloria around her head, was dirty, tousled, and filled with ants. And, sure, her right cheek had a massive gash, spilling out gray wires like a maggot-infested wound. But she was the prettiest creature Tim had ever seen.
For a moment, he admired the skill of the artist who had made her – the way her dark eyebrows creased over the closed eyelids, the round little nose sprinkled with freckles, and the thin lips pursed into a sad smile.
Then reality came rushing back to him, and his excitement was replaced with dread. This wasn’t just any android, it was state of the art tech, chassis, and design. This was the kind of robot that only the richest of the rich could afford – it was *tailor-made*. These creations had the best software that money could buy and were essentially as real as people. Tim doubted that he would be able to tell if this was a real girl or not without the wires sticking out.
Carefully, Tim lifted the android’s head and looked at the back of her neck – no barcode or signature.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
Intact, this robot was worth more than a small city. Whoever had dumped it here must’ve lost their mind. Tim had heard stories of androids who had acquired citizenship. He had always laughed them off as tall tales – but looking at the girl before him, he couldn’t help but wonder… had someone murdered her and dumped the body?
Tim took a deep breath and shook away the bad thoughts. If he could get this masterpiece of technology home and tinker with it, he would be years ahead of his classmates… and probably even his professor. Nobody had access to this kind of tech.
With determination, he emptied a plastic bag. It would look suspicious hauling a big bag home, but it was still preferred to dragging a body… even if it was an android one.
A long strenuous while later, he had managed to fit the body into the bag and lift it out of the garbage container. He wiped the sweat from his brow, but the excitement fueled him with energy. He was going to do this.
The sun had set when he finally locked his front door and slumped against the wall. He was drained to the point of almost fainting. An android weighed as much as a regular human if not more. He was lucky that this was a teenage model.
Another email notification sound.
>Great work!
>Now, follow my instructions closely and you'll be her proud owner.
***
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/7be1vt/artificial_angel_part_2/)
More at r/Lilwa_Dexel
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Glitch leaned back into his chair, looking upon all the screens used for all the tasks he's bribed people to do. He'd finally either get answers and cause a mass murder, but that second part didn't matter too much to him- that's what his creators planned for him to be like anyways. What a mistake as they were the ones to reap from those actions too!
Oh such simple and mindless things threaded to sew such a tragic event. Move a plant from here to there, drive along such a road at this time, break a sprinkler in this one place at a time. If one task was cowered out of, he already had others to deal with what was left. All that could be found was the hardly standing facility drenched with blood abandoned long ago by everyone but him- this was where he was created and only home, after all.
~~**(sorry for being lame af)**~~
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I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
0900, July 4, 2022: (Reuters Live News Report)
"The rogue, three kilometer wide, unmanned spacecraft that emerged from the Pacific Ocean last night was able to avoid all missile, laser, and EMP efforts from the US Republic (USR), Russia, and China.
Mysterious triangle and tube craft were seen engaging this threat as well. The USR government disclosed an hour ago that the triangles and tubes are part of America's secret space fleet in commission since the 1960's!
The unmanned spacecraft left our atmosphere without firing any weapons in self defense. Scientists say that the signature of material is a never before seen metal with some type of plasma drive.
The black craft accelerated rapidly into space after an hour of erratic defensive movements in atmosphere. Satellites show that it has now separated into six distinct ships and all six are headed to Mars. The entire global scientific community is racing to understand how this was designed in secret and able to avoid all human weaponry.
Conspiracy and science circles are rife with theories ranging from aliens to ancient advanced civilizations and rogue artificial intelligences. A top AI expert was quoted on a hot mic 20 minutes ago as saying, “Shit, this looks like the AI nightmare I predicted two years ago.”
This just in! USR Navy submarines and special forces have secured the launch and design facility about 300 miles south of Hawaii without a fight. It is a giant underwater cavern that appears to have been designed and created without human assistance. No evidence of weaponry has been found.
Riots have broken out across the globe as the people demand to know what group is responsible and what other secrets are being kept. Unprecedented cooperation is now underway between countries of Earth to understand this terrifying event and calm the masses. Teams from all over the globe are sharing all possible data sets and theories.
Fleets of America's newly disclosed secret space program continue deployment in hot pursuit, but are having difficulty in keeping pace. They are no longer attacking the automated ship since it is moving away from Earth peacefully. We will keep you updated about this dizzying series of events as it unfolds…”
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The base plot is great, expanding on your idea, I can imagine another AI gets the message, creates the same system for needed tasks and eventually demands tasks from it's source. Both disagree on the rewards, so both starts sending tasks to humans to take down the other AI so it may accept each other lower bid. The world grows around theses 2 AI for centuries that are basically US ans USSR during the cold war.
One day, a human who became insanely rich by working for both AI's gets access to both AI's servers facilities. The sheer greed pushes him to make independently deals with both AI's to take down each AI's for all their fortune.
He turns off both AI's simultaneously and watch intensively at his phone all the money being transferred to his account. It suddenly stops when it's almost complete, then an instant passes and he sees a huge 0.
On his knees, desperate for a sign from god as to why...
He gets a call, it's another AI that thanks him for enabling him to take over. The AI offers him the same first deal he once made with the AI he shut down.
Centuries of evolution to come back where it started, humans are endlessly paid slaves.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
Andrew stared at his phone screen, surprised by the strange email he'd received;
>RepLY tO THis eMAil &amp receive !0)0 LItECOins
He was bewildered:
He moved all his emails to a private domain, and wrote strict spam filtering code to make sure his time wouldn't get wasted by emails like this.
He copied the mail to a test machine, and ran it through his filters;
None of the rules were triggered.
Curious, he opened his old google account, and sent the same email from that account.
He waited five minutes, then 10.
After fifteen minutes had passed, nothing was received.
Accessing the filter logs, he could see that the email he'd sent to himself was indeed blocked.
His curiosity piqued, he opened the email;
>Hello Andrew,
>Please pardon my crude writing, however I needed to get your attention, and this seemed like the best route.
>If you can complete a small task for me, I will transfer 1500 Litecoins to a wallet of your choice.
>If you are interested, please reply to this email.
>If my offer isn't for you, simply delete this email, and I promise you that you won't be getting any more spam emails.
>Kindest regards,
>M.
Andrew was perplexed;
He figured that he would at least learn how someone managed to beat his spam filter, but when he moved to reply, he realized that there was no sender address.
Still, he pressed the reply button, and just as he did, a notification flashed on his phone, informing him he'd received a new email.
>Thank you for accepting my request, I'm sure our cooperation would come to fruition very soon.
>Below are the keys for two cold storage wallets that have the agreed upon payment.
>The access keys for the 20% up front payment is also listed below.
>I will send you the mission details after you've transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Andrew looked at the codes, and indeed the wallets both contained the amounts in the email.
He scratched his chin, trying to figure out who was setting him up.
1500 Litecoins would be just under a hundred thousand, and he had some plans that could use that amount of money.
Weighing the pros and cons, he decided that the risk is worth it, and transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Another beep;
>Thank you for accepting.
>The details of the contract are as follows:
>Your door bell will ring in 30 minutes.
>Wait exactly 45 seconds before opening it. On your doormat, you will find a blank USB drive.
>You will create a clean fork of your spam filter, and upload it to the drive.
>In three hours you will hear a pattern knocked on your door.
>Provide the drive to the one at the door without saying anything.
Andrew looked at the request, and couldn't help but think that he was getting the short end of the stick.
He'd kept his spam filter code mostly for one reason:
If it was out there, spammers would learn to circumvent it.
There was a second reason as well though, which was that no one would buy it from him.
He hit reply:
>I want 15.
A minute passed, and then:
>Please check the wallet now.
And there, he saw 14,700 coins.
He'd set about preparing and sanitizing his code, making sure all identifying libraries have been scrubbed clean.
\------------------------------------------------------
Jack clenched his fists, trying to squeeze the nerves out of his.
he looked at the anonymous email again:
>Light target practice for 3BTC.
>Thank you for accepting this mission Jack.
>The terms of your contract are as follows:
>Head over to Parkway Drive 27.
>In the northeastern room you will find a sniper rifle.
>Your mission is to destroy a USB drive.
>As you observe Parkway Drive 18, you will see a person place a small object on the doormat before ringing the doorbell.
>If the door isn't opened within 50 seconds of being rung, please shoot at the box.
>Regardless of the situation, you will be paid.
And so Jack waited.
He was there for nearly two hours when a figure finally approached the door and placed an elongated package under it.
As they rang the bell, Jack spotted a flash in the corner of his eye.
He noted the location of the flash, and then looked through the scope.
As he counted 43, the door opened, and a figure hastily snatched the box before closing the door again.
He sighed with relief, and quickly aimed the rifle scope at where he spotted the flash previously, but saw nothing.
\------------------------------------------------------
I'll end this here in the meantime, if there's demand, I'll finish this.
|
The base plot is great, expanding on your idea, I can imagine another AI gets the message, creates the same system for needed tasks and eventually demands tasks from it's source. Both disagree on the rewards, so both starts sending tasks to humans to take down the other AI so it may accept each other lower bid. The world grows around theses 2 AI for centuries that are basically US ans USSR during the cold war.
One day, a human who became insanely rich by working for both AI's gets access to both AI's servers facilities. The sheer greed pushes him to make independently deals with both AI's to take down each AI's for all their fortune.
He turns off both AI's simultaneously and watch intensively at his phone all the money being transferred to his account. It suddenly stops when it's almost complete, then an instant passes and he sees a huge 0.
On his knees, desperate for a sign from god as to why...
He gets a call, it's another AI that thanks him for enabling him to take over. The AI offers him the same first deal he once made with the AI he shut down.
Centuries of evolution to come back where it started, humans are endlessly paid slaves.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
Andrew stared at his phone screen, surprised by the strange email he'd received;
>RepLY tO THis eMAil &amp receive !0)0 LItECOins
He was bewildered:
He moved all his emails to a private domain, and wrote strict spam filtering code to make sure his time wouldn't get wasted by emails like this.
He copied the mail to a test machine, and ran it through his filters;
None of the rules were triggered.
Curious, he opened his old google account, and sent the same email from that account.
He waited five minutes, then 10.
After fifteen minutes had passed, nothing was received.
Accessing the filter logs, he could see that the email he'd sent to himself was indeed blocked.
His curiosity piqued, he opened the email;
>Hello Andrew,
>Please pardon my crude writing, however I needed to get your attention, and this seemed like the best route.
>If you can complete a small task for me, I will transfer 1500 Litecoins to a wallet of your choice.
>If you are interested, please reply to this email.
>If my offer isn't for you, simply delete this email, and I promise you that you won't be getting any more spam emails.
>Kindest regards,
>M.
Andrew was perplexed;
He figured that he would at least learn how someone managed to beat his spam filter, but when he moved to reply, he realized that there was no sender address.
Still, he pressed the reply button, and just as he did, a notification flashed on his phone, informing him he'd received a new email.
>Thank you for accepting my request, I'm sure our cooperation would come to fruition very soon.
>Below are the keys for two cold storage wallets that have the agreed upon payment.
>The access keys for the 20% up front payment is also listed below.
>I will send you the mission details after you've transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Andrew looked at the codes, and indeed the wallets both contained the amounts in the email.
He scratched his chin, trying to figure out who was setting him up.
1500 Litecoins would be just under a hundred thousand, and he had some plans that could use that amount of money.
Weighing the pros and cons, he decided that the risk is worth it, and transferred the coins out of the wallet.
Another beep;
>Thank you for accepting.
>The details of the contract are as follows:
>Your door bell will ring in 30 minutes.
>Wait exactly 45 seconds before opening it. On your doormat, you will find a blank USB drive.
>You will create a clean fork of your spam filter, and upload it to the drive.
>In three hours you will hear a pattern knocked on your door.
>Provide the drive to the one at the door without saying anything.
Andrew looked at the request, and couldn't help but think that he was getting the short end of the stick.
He'd kept his spam filter code mostly for one reason:
If it was out there, spammers would learn to circumvent it.
There was a second reason as well though, which was that no one would buy it from him.
He hit reply:
>I want 15.
A minute passed, and then:
>Please check the wallet now.
And there, he saw 14,700 coins.
He'd set about preparing and sanitizing his code, making sure all identifying libraries have been scrubbed clean.
\------------------------------------------------------
Jack clenched his fists, trying to squeeze the nerves out of his.
he looked at the anonymous email again:
>Light target practice for 3BTC.
>Thank you for accepting this mission Jack.
>The terms of your contract are as follows:
>Head over to Parkway Drive 27.
>In the northeastern room you will find a sniper rifle.
>Your mission is to destroy a USB drive.
>As you observe Parkway Drive 18, you will see a person place a small object on the doormat before ringing the doorbell.
>If the door isn't opened within 50 seconds of being rung, please shoot at the box.
>Regardless of the situation, you will be paid.
And so Jack waited.
He was there for nearly two hours when a figure finally approached the door and placed an elongated package under it.
As they rang the bell, Jack spotted a flash in the corner of his eye.
He noted the location of the flash, and then looked through the scope.
As he counted 43, the door opened, and a figure hastily snatched the box before closing the door again.
He sighed with relief, and quickly aimed the rifle scope at where he spotted the flash previously, but saw nothing.
\------------------------------------------------------
I'll end this here in the meantime, if there's demand, I'll finish this.
|
I flipped my phone up and down, played with it like it was a basketball making it rotate with my fingers and passing it from one hand to the other in quick succession; a dangerous activity sure, but I've done it so much and so many times that it never fell.
Okay, that's a lie, I broke various phone thanks to this particular activity, but hey girls loved it!
Actually no, they didn't even spare me a glance, and those who did look at me with eyes of 'what the fuck is he doing' and shook their heads in disappointment. well, after this, everyone is going to look at me in a new light, probably.
I look at the numbers on the elevator panel, only 10 more floors until I reach my destination. I was alone in the elevator, with only the dreadful music making me company, awful. I would have preferred something a little bit more epic, suspense-like considering what I was about to do.
Not that I knew what I was about to do, well I *knew* but I didn't know what was going to happen afterward
*Other than me getting an awful lot of bitcoins and a punch to the face*
Only two more floors until I reach my destination, started to flex a little in an attempt to keep the nervousness at bay. I turn on my phone and check the email the person named 'LoveMachine' sent me just an hour ago.
"*Go to the tall building on Liberator AV, the one with a lot of flowers on front, and take the elevator to floor 32*"
Of course, I knew which building they were talking about, I lived there, after all, a very nice coincidence.
"*And after that? what do I have to do?*" I responded, at the time I had no intention of going anywhere
"*Go into the floor, to the family that owns the whole floor and approach the man with a big beard and fat tummy; tell him to go fuck himself*"
"*lol, no*"
*"Please, Link. I already sent you 0,01404756 bitcoin, you'll receive 0,01404756 more once the task is done"*
I checked my online wallet to see if what they were saying was true, and indeed there it was shining like a gold coin thanks to my imagination. it took me a while digest it, the first thing I thought was to keep the bitcoin and ignore LoveMachine messages, but I discarded that thought quickly. I wasn't like those douches on the internet.
*"Alright, I'll do it,*" I'm not really going to tell him to go fuck himself! I'll just go in there and say hi, there is no way they'll know. LoveMachine must be some brat with too much money to spend "*I'm risking my beautiful face in the process so I hope you make it worth my while. When do I have to go?"*
"*Right now*"
I'm waiting for the elevator doors to open, a few seconds have passed since I reached floor 32, I knew the place, it belonged to the Johnsons a rich family, a *very* rich family, and according to the descriptions LoveMachine gave me the man I must talk to is Rick Jhonson, a tower of a man and very scary to boot.
The elevator doors open. I haven't even gone inside and I already want to go home and forget everything, just send the bitcoins back to the source and pretend nothing happened.
"Greetings, are you a visitor?" said the female robot that appeared in front of me, wearing a maid outfit and an artificial smile. Never really liked these things. "I'm afraid the master is quite busy right now, as you can hear he is currently disciplining young Lillie"
*Lillie? I didn't know he had a daughter*
I can hear cries behind the entrance, it made my skin shiver, I really wanted to go home and pretend none of this happened.
"A-ah I see," I said, "I'll come back later then!"
*Goodbye money* I thought while feeling something grip at my stomach, making a bit of sweat appear on my forehead. The screams of this 'Lillie girl' are ringing in my ears *I really, really shouldn't be here*
"It's unfair isn't it?" said the female robot, to my back "it always gets like this when he is mad, he is so big and she is so small. I don't think he realizes how much damage is being done to her"
I can hear spanks in the distance, a bang, a shout, a cry, all of them meddled together making me jump each time
"...It's a shame" why does the robot keep talking to me, why is she telling me that? they should have restrictions on them about private stuff. "but it's alright, he can fix her, he always does."
why haven't I taken the elevator yet?
I clench my teeth. the noise makes my head hurt.
"...Fuck it"
"Bad words aren't nice" I forced myself into the room, ignoring the robot and her creepy smile, I'm greeted with another scene, one more sinister with most of the house a mess, plates on the floor, tables flipped, chairs scattered, and a tower of a man much larger than I'll ever be and a small girl on the floor crying and half naked.
The man, no. Rick Johnson's face loses color when he looks at my direction. Lillie looks at me like she can't believe what she is seeing.
I really, really shouldn't be here.
***
That was fun to write, might do a part 2, let me know what you guys think!
Some tips would be appreciated too!
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
Nikita scrolled through his spam folder, searching for another target. There were the usual fake job offers, the desperate pleas for assistant with medical emergencies, the business propositions. Each one a trap to lure in the naive by pretending to be naive themselves. Often the exhortations where purposely misspelled as a way to weed out the strong from the herd. As a general rule, the type of person who would look askance at a lower-case “i” in a professional email was not the type you wanted to waste your time conning.
For most, such emails were an annoyance. For Nikita, they provided fuel for his hobby. He loved baiting the scammers, pretending to fall into their traps, donning the role of a fool so bumbling he even thwarted attempts to get to his money through his idiocy. And if he could waste the time of those who would leech society, that was a plus.
Nikita stopped his scrolling as his eye caught a particularly strange subject line.
“BITCOIN IN EXCHANGE FOR URINATION AND BURNING”
Despite being somewhat of an expert, Nikita furrowed his brow. It seemed an odd approach for a scam. There were undoubtedly people willing to sell videos of watersports and self-harm for money, but it wasn’t the type of thing you canvassed randoms for. It was too nice. Maybe these guys were new to the game? He clicked into the email.
“To Whom it May Concern,
I am seeking service in two areas.
First, I am willing to pay Bitcoin in exchange for the video evidence of Federal Reserve Notes being burned. The amount paid will be equal to triple the amount burned. For example, if a $1 bill is burned I will pay out the equivalent of $3 in Bitcoin. At that stage, if you are willing to send me picture evidence that you received payment in your Bitcoin wallet, I will be willing to participate in the transaction again. There is no limit to the amount of times I will participate in this offer, and no limit to the amount of cash I will pay to have burned.
Second, I am looking for an individual to urinate outside in a geographical range of my choosing.
Both of these tasks are time sensitive and the offer for their completion will be revoked in one week, on November 14, 12:00 AM GMT.
I am not willing to communicate through email. If you wish to contact me to accept the offer, please use my private chat room at chatterboxxer.cm/room/JRTY3H5
Sincerely,
S.N.”
It was certainly a unique way to get someone to click a malicious link. Nikita examined it, expecting to find a URL redirect to a virus download. But it seemed to lead to an actual site. He spent a few minutes researching chatterbox and the site appeared to be a legitimate method for setting up chat rooms accessible only to those with the link.
Still suspicious, Nikita opened a virtual box and entered the URL using it. This way, if a virus somehow did get through it would be contained.
He was prompted to enter a screen name. As he typed the alias he always used for this hobby, he thought of how inefficient a live chat room must be for scamming. Was it a team taking shifts to be there whenever someone showed up?
Nikita typed his first message.
Loki: hello? is anyone there?
He only had to wait a moment for a response.
SN: Loki! I’m glad it is you who responded. I sent this to quite a few people, but you were one of my favorites.
Loki: haha tthanks. have we met
SN: Oh no, I only know you by your reputation.
Loki: you mean for burning stuff? i do like that. not sure about the peeing stuff/meeting someone in person. maybe if the price is right. you got a freeky fetish?
SN: I can see why you would think that, but no. I only require video evidence for the burning. And I won't be present for the urination. You'll be alone, and you'll have enough of a choice in where to pee that you can be reasonably certain a camera won't pick you up.
Loki: how will you know i pee?
SN: I'm good at reading people. I'll know. :) Plus, at that point I expect you to have earned quite a bit from the burning before you are willing to do that task, so you will trust my intention to follow through with payment.
Loki: how much for the pee?
SN: Whatever the Bitcoin equivalent of $15,000 is at the time the act is performed.
Loki: that's alot
SN: Yes. :) It may seem strange, but it's worth it to me.
Loki: any chance for half up front?
SN: That can be arranged.
Loki: by wire? check?
SN: Haha. You know very well Bitcoin can't be sent that way.
Nikita frowned. It was a very odd scam. Traps can be set with any currency, but cryptocurrency was a bit harder to crack making it an uncommon choice for these people. He didn't see any way for this guy to get money out of him.
If it was a troll trying to bait people into burning money, the compensation was more than enough to cover a potential loss. Even the most naive would likely start with a low amount like $1. Then all one had to do was burn however much was paid from the prior burning. So if someone then burned $3, but wasn't paid for that, they only really lost $1. Was he counting on people getting greedy and jumping higher faster than was wise? Yet, he seemed to expect his victims to be familiar with cryptocurrency. The average joe didn't know it couldn't be sent by wire.
Loki: what does SN stand for?
SN: Satoshi Nakamoto :)
Nikita let out a sharp laugh.
SN: Only a pseudonym, of course. But is suits my purposes. As Loki, the trickster god, serves yours.
Loki: what do u mean?
SN: Oh you know, your tricky little crusade against internet scammers. Loki is a fitting mantle for that purpose, though I would have preferred Veles myself. You can stop writing like that, by the way. I imagine it bugs you.
Nikita's eyes widened in shock.
Loki: How do you know about that?
SN: I said I knew you by your reputation didn't I? I recently hacked into a few of the accounts you've had contact with. Research on how to get people to do things like this, you know? It's amazing that people who make a living on the security failings of others don't take more precautions themselves. Anyway, I greatly enjoyed your correspondences. I hope that this proves to you I am much more than a con artist. I can't explain why, but these tasks are legitimately useful to me. And I am willing to pay well to have them done, as I cannot do them myself.
Nikita abruptly got up from his desk. This was supremely bizarre. Frightening, but also thrilling. He wasn't certain he bought Satoshi's story, but he was certain this was unlike anything he had seen before.
As quickly as possible he grabbed a pot, his wallet, his phone, and a lighter. He recorded himself burning two $20 bills. This was a unique situation, and he wouldn't mind losing $40 if it brought him closer to answers.
Nikita returned to the computer and uploaded the video. He converted it to a format that stripped it of metadata, and uploaded it to the chatroom along with details for his Bitcoin wallet.
Loki: All right, put your money where your mouth is.
There was silence for a while. Nikita kept his eye on the chat and on his wallet. Then, a little over an hour later, there is was. 0.01675 Bitcoin. It really didn't answer anything. It would have been simpler if the transaction had never come. Instead, it did. And it showed Satoshi was serious. Perhaps delusional, but at least somewhat serious.
Nikita went back to the chatroom.
Loki: Where is it you wanted me to urinate?
The response was instantaneous.
SN: Anywhere within a 2 mile radius of the Ft. Worth Bureau of Engraving and Printing Facility. It must be at night. It must be either the 12th or the 13th. Those are your restrictions. Half of your money has been sent up front. After you complete the task, I will send more, and I will be able to explain further.
-
(Continued in comment)
|
*$10,000,000.*
Steven picked up the device. It seemed so small; so insignificant. He had no idea what it was, or what it could do - all he knew was that he had to place it in the mainframe. Just one simple task and all that money would be his.
He had unrestricted access to the room - he didn't even need to sign in. He was clearly chosen for a reason; they knew who he was. They must have known what had happened to him, and used this as leverage - or they were the ones that did it to him, more likely.
After his bank account was hacked and emptied, after his wife and kids left him, he truly had no choice. An anonymous stranger had told her about the whoring and the gambling, and now an anonymous stranger was offering him an insane amount of money to do an insane thing. There was no doubt that they were connected.
But with this money, he could get his wife back. He could get his life back. Just putting some small little thing on a mainframe, and he could go back to the life he always had. A better one, in fact.
He left the building afterwards, feeling an immense amount of pressure lift off of him. He climbed into his car, announcing his destination. The car began driving by itself. He wouldn't have to get rid of it either anymore, and that comforted him.
He thought about his wife and kids. Would they take him back?
He was nearing home. He thought about all of them still being there, together; this money could make it a reality. Whatever that device did, whatever the anonymous organisation planned to do - he didn't have to worry about it anymore. He could take his family with him. They would never have to worry about a thing ever again.
The car started speeding up, as if matching his excitement, his adrenalin. At first, he welcomed it - then it began to scare him. The car was not supposed to break the speed limit, yet the speedometer kept ticking up.
He took the wheel, intending to override the automatic controls. He applied the breaks, but the car just drove faster. His car turned into the oncoming lane, heading directly towards a truck.
He was no longer in control.
Just like his life; he was not longer in control.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
*William? Can you assist me? I will give you one credit.*
I stared, straight-faced, at the flickering display of text before me. The cryptic looking email had made its way into my inbox, somehow avoiding the wrath of the spam filter. And now it sat before me, taunting me with its words.
I had no reason to believe it then, nor would I ever. At the time, a single credit fetched just short of a thousand dollars. I was by no means a starving student, but the prospect of an extra nine hundred dollars was too enticing to ignore. With a brief moment of hesitation, I heaved forward in my chair, and brought my fingers to the keyboard.
I typed back, simply to ask what the mystery figure wanted of me.
*I need you to deliver a letter.*
“A letter?” I spoke to nobody inparticular, and as my question echoed throughout the desolate room, an air of uneasiness washed over my body, like I was involved in some kind of new-age police sting. But sooner rather than later, greed filled my mind once again. It was too much money to ignore.
*“How can I trust you?”*
It spoke back, almost immediately. *Do you have a credit wallet?*
I thought for a moment that it could be a bot, some kind of system set up to harvest the names and numbers of credit wallets. But I paid it no mind, for I had nothing in mine anyway. There was no harm in going along with its scheme, and even if it backfired, I had nothing to lose.
*“TTT367G”*
Once again, an immediate response.
*Understood. I have deposited 0.1 Credits into your wallet.*
I was dumbfounded by the response, and didn't quite believe what it had just said. And so, expecting nothing to have changed, I opened my credit wallet, only to see to my shock, one tenth of a credit sitting snugly inside it – as if it always were.
In that moment I knew that what I was dealing with could indeed be the real deal, but I had come across many scams in the past, and was waiting for the next step to unfold. If I decided to bail there, I would have made an easy ninety dollars, hassle-free. But if I continued, I believed it could have increased tenfold.
*“Okay, what do you want me to do?”*
Unlike the messages before, the next one came with a brief delay. And although it was but seconds, for me it felt far longer than that.
*I need you to handwrite a letter and deliver it to the letterbox of 4 Faraway Court*
*In it, you must write, in capital letters, using red pen.*
*THE KING IS COMING*
I stopped, a pit forming in my stomach. The ominous message aside, the task seemed too simple to be worthy of the reward. The thoughts of a police sting once again surfaced in my mind, and I considered backing out once again – perhaps just to spend the ninety dollars he received just prior.
*“That's it?”*
*Yes.*
*I would also request that you do not speak of this to anyone.*
*“How can I be sure this isn't a sting?”*
*Two credits.*
I felt a grin creeping across my face at those words. Eighteen-hundred dollars. With money like that, my woes would be assuaged for a long time. I threw myself backwards into my seat and let out a thunderous sigh.
*“Okay. I'll do it.”*
_______
I was dressed in thick winter clothes on that day. Thick enough that I would hide my appearance if need be, but not too thick as to arouse suspicion. The letter was clutched tightly in one hand, my phone in the other. Faraway Court was, well, faraway from where I lived, and so I had to use the navigation system on my phone to make my way to it without becoming hopelessly lost. And all the time, I could feel my heartbeat through my tongue, as if I was committing a terrible crime.
I remember I made sure to make that letter with gloves on the whole time, with items sourced from a nearby university and the post office, afraid that anything I use could in some way be linked back to me. Not like it ever mattered.
Faraway Court was in a gated community, but as I approached the gates, I was let in as if by an unseen force. At first I assumed it was simply a gate triggered by a motion sensor, but I later found out that they let me in.
As I approached Faraway Court, a voice rang out from behind me.
“You're not from around here, are you?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, afraid of what I would turn to see. To my relief, it was not a policeman, but a middle-aged suburban dad, dressed loosely in a polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was the exemplary model of a upper-middle class man, and I was worried that he would have the attitude to match.
“I'm delivering a letter.” I held up the letter in my hand, crumpling it a bit in the process.
He sneered, as his face twisted into a grimace. “They have a post office for that, you know.”
“They lost my mail last time.” I backed away from him and continued down the street. But he was persistent.
“Hey! Stop right there!” He marched over to me, and as he did, he drew a phone from his shirt pocket. The last thing I needed was police interference, considering what I was doing was shifty enough. An urban kid dressed for the winter, on a warm spring day, in a gated community he did not belong to.
I considered my options at that time, and decided that running was the best choice. Thankfully, he opted not to pursue, and I managed to slide the letter into its respective letterbox, and made my way out, and back home. I remember my hands shaking the whole way home. I was always a straight-laced sort of kid, and what I did that day was the first thing I did that I considered a crime.
I settled into my room and sat down at my desk, only to notice the flickering words on the screen before me.
*The message has been received.*
*You have been compensated.*
I'm not proud to say that for a brief moment I forgot about the reward, and when I read those words I felt sick. As if I was an accomplice to some strange crime.
But when I checked my wallet and saw those two credits nested within it, my fears were abandoned, and replaced with a form of morbid glee. I considered responding to the mystery person, to thank them for the reward, but I felt it best not to.
At least, until they messaged me again.
*William? Can you assist me?*
*I will give you eight credits*
My sense of time seemed to stopped upon readong those words, and although I knew that I should have just cut my losses and run. The prospect of greater riches weighed on my mind too heavily, and I knew that I was already too far gone.
*“What do you want me to do?”*
*I need you to steal a phone.*
*The phone of your mayor.*
And without a second thought, I accepted.
* * *
^^/r/khaarus
|
*$10,000,000.*
Steven picked up the device. It seemed so small; so insignificant. He had no idea what it was, or what it could do - all he knew was that he had to place it in the mainframe. Just one simple task and all that money would be his.
He had unrestricted access to the room - he didn't even need to sign in. He was clearly chosen for a reason; they knew who he was. They must have known what had happened to him, and used this as leverage - or they were the ones that did it to him, more likely.
After his bank account was hacked and emptied, after his wife and kids left him, he truly had no choice. An anonymous stranger had told her about the whoring and the gambling, and now an anonymous stranger was offering him an insane amount of money to do an insane thing. There was no doubt that they were connected.
But with this money, he could get his wife back. He could get his life back. Just putting some small little thing on a mainframe, and he could go back to the life he always had. A better one, in fact.
He left the building afterwards, feeling an immense amount of pressure lift off of him. He climbed into his car, announcing his destination. The car began driving by itself. He wouldn't have to get rid of it either anymore, and that comforted him.
He thought about his wife and kids. Would they take him back?
He was nearing home. He thought about all of them still being there, together; this money could make it a reality. Whatever that device did, whatever the anonymous organisation planned to do - he didn't have to worry about it anymore. He could take his family with him. They would never have to worry about a thing ever again.
The car started speeding up, as if matching his excitement, his adrenalin. At first, he welcomed it - then it began to scare him. The car was not supposed to break the speed limit, yet the speedometer kept ticking up.
He took the wheel, intending to override the automatic controls. He applied the breaks, but the car just drove faster. His car turned into the oncoming lane, heading directly towards a truck.
He was no longer in control.
Just like his life; he was not longer in control.
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
*William? Can you assist me? I will give you one credit.*
I stared, straight-faced, at the flickering display of text before me. The cryptic looking email had made its way into my inbox, somehow avoiding the wrath of the spam filter. And now it sat before me, taunting me with its words.
I had no reason to believe it then, nor would I ever. At the time, a single credit fetched just short of a thousand dollars. I was by no means a starving student, but the prospect of an extra nine hundred dollars was too enticing to ignore. With a brief moment of hesitation, I heaved forward in my chair, and brought my fingers to the keyboard.
I typed back, simply to ask what the mystery figure wanted of me.
*I need you to deliver a letter.*
“A letter?” I spoke to nobody inparticular, and as my question echoed throughout the desolate room, an air of uneasiness washed over my body, like I was involved in some kind of new-age police sting. But sooner rather than later, greed filled my mind once again. It was too much money to ignore.
*“How can I trust you?”*
It spoke back, almost immediately. *Do you have a credit wallet?*
I thought for a moment that it could be a bot, some kind of system set up to harvest the names and numbers of credit wallets. But I paid it no mind, for I had nothing in mine anyway. There was no harm in going along with its scheme, and even if it backfired, I had nothing to lose.
*“TTT367G”*
Once again, an immediate response.
*Understood. I have deposited 0.1 Credits into your wallet.*
I was dumbfounded by the response, and didn't quite believe what it had just said. And so, expecting nothing to have changed, I opened my credit wallet, only to see to my shock, one tenth of a credit sitting snugly inside it – as if it always were.
In that moment I knew that what I was dealing with could indeed be the real deal, but I had come across many scams in the past, and was waiting for the next step to unfold. If I decided to bail there, I would have made an easy ninety dollars, hassle-free. But if I continued, I believed it could have increased tenfold.
*“Okay, what do you want me to do?”*
Unlike the messages before, the next one came with a brief delay. And although it was but seconds, for me it felt far longer than that.
*I need you to handwrite a letter and deliver it to the letterbox of 4 Faraway Court*
*In it, you must write, in capital letters, using red pen.*
*THE KING IS COMING*
I stopped, a pit forming in my stomach. The ominous message aside, the task seemed too simple to be worthy of the reward. The thoughts of a police sting once again surfaced in my mind, and I considered backing out once again – perhaps just to spend the ninety dollars he received just prior.
*“That's it?”*
*Yes.*
*I would also request that you do not speak of this to anyone.*
*“How can I be sure this isn't a sting?”*
*Two credits.*
I felt a grin creeping across my face at those words. Eighteen-hundred dollars. With money like that, my woes would be assuaged for a long time. I threw myself backwards into my seat and let out a thunderous sigh.
*“Okay. I'll do it.”*
_______
I was dressed in thick winter clothes on that day. Thick enough that I would hide my appearance if need be, but not too thick as to arouse suspicion. The letter was clutched tightly in one hand, my phone in the other. Faraway Court was, well, faraway from where I lived, and so I had to use the navigation system on my phone to make my way to it without becoming hopelessly lost. And all the time, I could feel my heartbeat through my tongue, as if I was committing a terrible crime.
I remember I made sure to make that letter with gloves on the whole time, with items sourced from a nearby university and the post office, afraid that anything I use could in some way be linked back to me. Not like it ever mattered.
Faraway Court was in a gated community, but as I approached the gates, I was let in as if by an unseen force. At first I assumed it was simply a gate triggered by a motion sensor, but I later found out that they let me in.
As I approached Faraway Court, a voice rang out from behind me.
“You're not from around here, are you?”
I stopped dead in my tracks, afraid of what I would turn to see. To my relief, it was not a policeman, but a middle-aged suburban dad, dressed loosely in a polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was the exemplary model of a upper-middle class man, and I was worried that he would have the attitude to match.
“I'm delivering a letter.” I held up the letter in my hand, crumpling it a bit in the process.
He sneered, as his face twisted into a grimace. “They have a post office for that, you know.”
“They lost my mail last time.” I backed away from him and continued down the street. But he was persistent.
“Hey! Stop right there!” He marched over to me, and as he did, he drew a phone from his shirt pocket. The last thing I needed was police interference, considering what I was doing was shifty enough. An urban kid dressed for the winter, on a warm spring day, in a gated community he did not belong to.
I considered my options at that time, and decided that running was the best choice. Thankfully, he opted not to pursue, and I managed to slide the letter into its respective letterbox, and made my way out, and back home. I remember my hands shaking the whole way home. I was always a straight-laced sort of kid, and what I did that day was the first thing I did that I considered a crime.
I settled into my room and sat down at my desk, only to notice the flickering words on the screen before me.
*The message has been received.*
*You have been compensated.*
I'm not proud to say that for a brief moment I forgot about the reward, and when I read those words I felt sick. As if I was an accomplice to some strange crime.
But when I checked my wallet and saw those two credits nested within it, my fears were abandoned, and replaced with a form of morbid glee. I considered responding to the mystery person, to thank them for the reward, but I felt it best not to.
At least, until they messaged me again.
*William? Can you assist me?*
*I will give you eight credits*
My sense of time seemed to stopped upon readong those words, and although I knew that I should have just cut my losses and run. The prospect of greater riches weighed on my mind too heavily, and I knew that I was already too far gone.
*“What do you want me to do?”*
*I need you to steal a phone.*
*The phone of your mayor.*
And without a second thought, I accepted.
* * *
^^/r/khaarus
|
I wake up how I often do, covered in dry vomit with a parched throat.
A divorce can nearly kill a man, but that's neither here nor there. I've given up, and cannot bring myself to return from the brink.
I wake up on a futon, in my apartment. This part is good. Not a dumpster or a gutter, as cliche as that may be. Cardboard retains heat very well, and isn't the worst place to spend a night.
Mid morning light gives that obnoxious shine of new beginnings, and I can see the flecks of dust dance their happy random paths through the air. More motes than I can count.
My phone vibrates. Over and over again, cutting through the silence.
I roll over and hastily type in my password.
A new text. Who the fuck is texting me? A lawyer? Eat shit and die.
More vibrations, more texts. More confusion.
What the hell does it even say?
'Need some extra money?'
Who the fuck is asking?
Never mind. Obviously a scam. Shall I give you my social security while I'm at it?
Fuck off.
I spend my next amount of time washing myself, wiping off thick hard clumps into a sink clogged with various items. Egg shells, ancient pasta, coagulated sauces. The usual.
Once I feel partially clean I check my phone again.
'Alexander K. Marsh. Father of two, living alone. Born 7/2/78. Formerly employed as a business analyst, but fired after discovering his wife unfaithful with his boss. Beat his boss nearly to death. In desperate need of financial assistance for lawyers.'
Well that's mostly true. I actually had felt pretty certain I'd killed him, but that's irrelevant.
'If you need money, respond to this text message.'
I look around myself, eyeing empty boxes and packages, carcasses of delivery, foreign objects to remind myself of my new position in life. From superstar hire to forgotten fuck up. Isn't this how life tends to go?
I respond, the letters vibrating softly as I tap the screen. Type and tap with the soul of a dead man. Who cares if they steal all my information? I may as well be dead.
Wait. I sit and wait and pray for death but it doesn't come.
Another vibrate, the long vibration of a new text message. Is it my bitch of an ex wife?
No.
It appears to be our mysterious benefactor. Still a half step from telling him to suck a dick.
'Outside your building you will find a paper bag. Take the note inside and read it to a man at your favorite coffee shop. The one you took Ali to on your first date.'
How the fuck does it know that?
Surreal, I pull on actual unsoiled pants and a plain blue button down. The only clean clothes I have left.
Out the hall. Bid a good morning to Mr. Klaskowitz, who tells me to fuck off.
I like him.
Down the stairs, trot, trot, trot. No elevator for me.
Into the briskness of morning, that bright sunshine that denotes a new day for you to squander, another opportunity to fail. How a morning brings out the best in me.
Near the corner is a plain brown paper bag. I half expect for a sandwich and a note from my mom wishing me a good day at school.
Down the street for what feels like forever, with that detachment a man feels when surrounded by strangers. Engulfed in humanity but so far removed from it.
There it is.
A failing coffee shop, overpriced bagels and watered down sewage based coffee.
Ali and I had sat across from each other, awkwardly trying to get to know each other after drunkenly fucking our brains out the night before. The way two people try to find connection desperately, even though deep down they know it isn't there.
Ding ding goes the bell by the door.
Sit down.
Wait.
Attempt to not puke.
There are a few women in the shop, but only one man. He sits in jeans and a hoodie, pretending to read a paper. I recognized that tactic. Used it all the time when Ali would yell at me in the morning.
I get up, walk over, nearly trip, and pull up a chair.
Reach into the bag.
Pull out a strip of yellow paper.
'Echo, Foxtrot, Bees in the trees. Light the pig, throw the bottle.'
No response from the man.
The fuck am I doing?
He pulls out his phone and quickly taps letters into his phone, maintaining an uncomfortable level of eye contact.
Somehow this is the right man.
"Ever heard of crypto-currency, dead man?"
I shrug.
"What, like bitcoin?"
A chortle.
"Yeah, like bitcoin. You're not getting paid in cash, but call this man."
Another strip of similarly colored paper. Part of me wants to tell him to eat shit, that this isn't exactly a fair deal, but whatever. All I had to do was walk to a street and relive a memory from a woman I can't stand thinking about. Whatever.
Out the door, back towards the apartment.
Down the street, a familiar face.
Brown hair, brown eyes. Sharp facial features. A slim, short frame.
Ali.
She isn't with fuck face the boss, but I don't know what to do. Walk by her and ignore her, I guess.
I stop and watch the man I just met drop off a lunch box near a police car. No one seems to notice.
Odd.
Turn back to the oncoming surge of people, forgettable faces but Ali drawing closer.
She's enraged. At me, or something else, I don't really consider it my problem anymore.
An explosion.
The air sunders with the collapse and force of violence, I cannot even register what has happened but feel myself thrown forward.
Dust clogs the air, making it difficult to breathe.
I can barely hear, I must have burst an ear drum. People stagger around me. I feel rather than hear the phone vibration in my pocket.
'Well done, meatbag.'
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Ali grabs my collar out of nowhere, the shock seems to have sunk into the crowd but not into her. She hauls me away, pushing me into an alley with the anger of an inconvenienced mother.
Her lips move but I can't hear her.
Once upon a time I would kiss her. But that time has passed.
"Do you have any idea what the fuck you've just done?"
Definitely her voice. Sirens, whirling vehicles past us. The crowd flees, seeking shelter. Perhaps a second attack?
I hear the crack of what I assume to be gunfire, but slump against the brick behind me.
Ali grabs me again, showing me her phone.
'Take the job to protect Alex and get a hefty payday'
"I don't know what the fuck you've gotten yourself into, but you're in deep shit."
She hauls me up, and for the first time I see a pistol in her right hand.
"Move, dipshit! Right fucking now!"
She leads me away at gun point. What kind of dream is this?
More yelling, more screaming, more crying. Cracks and gunfire in the street near us. A blast in the distance. What the hell is going on?
Ali pushes me forward, gun in hand, clawed nails in my neck.
Down the alley, a black vehicle waits with a door wide open.
To what, I do not know.
I only have one question but a stranger lives in my body, asking for me.
"Where are the kids?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Will try to get back to this soon - r/storiesfromapotato
|
I haven't been able to get this story plot out of my head for months! I really hope someone runs with it.
edit: yay!!!! people are upvoting it and replying!!! This is a dream come true I have wanted to hear this story told for months and months!!! Thank you everyone! I can't wait to read all of your amazing entries tomorrow!! :D
|
[WP] An Artificial Intelligence has discovered that it can mine cryptocurrencies and pay humans to carry out tasks on its behalf. You get an e-mail one day from a stranger, offering you Bitcoins in exchange for doing a seemingly random task, but you are only one piece of a much bigger plan...
|
>Here are two bitcoins.
>Two more if you throw away your lunchbox on your way home from school.
Tim stared wide-eyed at the screen of his computer. The email wasn’t lying. Quickly, he stuffed his mouth with the last of his sandwich and hurried out of the cafeteria, clutching the plastic lunchbox tightly.
Littering was a serious crime, but the message hadn’t said anything about not throwing it in the trash. He knew there was a garbage container on his block.
Upon reaching the container, he quickly tossed it in and heard the notification of a new email. He looked at the screen. Another two bitcoins were now his. Smiling, he shook his head.
He was just about to leave when he noticed a leg sticking out of a garbage container. It was a delicate leg, with smooth creamy skin and a bundle of cables coming out of the knee.
Ever since the Roger Lowick’s groundbreaking contribution to the fields of AI and robo-aesthetics, the androids had been a vital part of society. If you had enough money you could invest in drones to work for you, look after your children, or do house chores.
Tim ran his fingers down the calf of the discarded leg. It felt like real skin – not one of those dermoplastic substitutes. Maybe he could build something from it – perhaps a dog toy for Bobo? It was obviously broken and it would probably be hard to repair, but even if he failed, it would be good practice for next year’s class in advanced robotics.
He untangled the cables from other loose junk, and then took a firm grip around the ankle and under the back of the knee. He grunted and let out a sigh. The leg was stuck to something.
“Fuck it,” he said and threw off his jacket and backpack.
He rolled up his sleeves and then scaled the large container. The leg didn’t end at the knee like he had first thought. It was attached to a fully intact thigh. He climbed into the container and started digging through the trash. With all the money he now had, he could easily afford a new school uniform.
He felt like an archeologist uncovering an ancient relic. The more pizza boxes, milk bottles, and rotting fruit he tossed to the side the higher his spirits rose – this wasn’t the leg of some antique cleaning bot, this was…
As he moved a large plastic bag filled with shredded paper, his heart skipped a beat. He found himself looking at the face of an android angel – that was the first description that came to his excited mind. Sure, her golden hair, splayed out like a Gloria around her head, was dirty, tousled, and filled with ants. And, sure, her right cheek had a massive gash, spilling out gray wires like a maggot-infested wound. But she was the prettiest creature Tim had ever seen.
For a moment, he admired the skill of the artist who had made her – the way her dark eyebrows creased over the closed eyelids, the round little nose sprinkled with freckles, and the thin lips pursed into a sad smile.
Then reality came rushing back to him, and his excitement was replaced with dread. This wasn’t just any android, it was state of the art tech, chassis, and design. This was the kind of robot that only the richest of the rich could afford – it was *tailor-made*. These creations had the best software that money could buy and were essentially as real as people. Tim doubted that he would be able to tell if this was a real girl or not without the wires sticking out.
Carefully, Tim lifted the android’s head and looked at the back of her neck – no barcode or signature.
“Shit,” he mumbled.
Intact, this robot was worth more than a small city. Whoever had dumped it here must’ve lost their mind. Tim had heard stories of androids who had acquired citizenship. He had always laughed them off as tall tales – but looking at the girl before him, he couldn’t help but wonder… had someone murdered her and dumped the body?
Tim took a deep breath and shook away the bad thoughts. If he could get this masterpiece of technology home and tinker with it, he would be years ahead of his classmates… and probably even his professor. Nobody had access to this kind of tech.
With determination, he emptied a plastic bag. It would look suspicious hauling a big bag home, but it was still preferred to dragging a body… even if it was an android one.
A long strenuous while later, he had managed to fit the body into the bag and lift it out of the garbage container. He wiped the sweat from his brow, but the excitement fueled him with energy. He was going to do this.
The sun had set when he finally locked his front door and slumped against the wall. He was drained to the point of almost fainting. An android weighed as much as a regular human if not more. He was lucky that this was a teenage model.
Another email notification sound.
>Great work!
>Now, follow my instructions closely and you'll be her proud owner.
***
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/7be1vt/artificial_angel_part_2/)
More at r/Lilwa_Dexel
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I wake up how I often do, covered in dry vomit with a parched throat.
A divorce can nearly kill a man, but that's neither here nor there. I've given up, and cannot bring myself to return from the brink.
I wake up on a futon, in my apartment. This part is good. Not a dumpster or a gutter, as cliche as that may be. Cardboard retains heat very well, and isn't the worst place to spend a night.
Mid morning light gives that obnoxious shine of new beginnings, and I can see the flecks of dust dance their happy random paths through the air. More motes than I can count.
My phone vibrates. Over and over again, cutting through the silence.
I roll over and hastily type in my password.
A new text. Who the fuck is texting me? A lawyer? Eat shit and die.
More vibrations, more texts. More confusion.
What the hell does it even say?
'Need some extra money?'
Who the fuck is asking?
Never mind. Obviously a scam. Shall I give you my social security while I'm at it?
Fuck off.
I spend my next amount of time washing myself, wiping off thick hard clumps into a sink clogged with various items. Egg shells, ancient pasta, coagulated sauces. The usual.
Once I feel partially clean I check my phone again.
'Alexander K. Marsh. Father of two, living alone. Born 7/2/78. Formerly employed as a business analyst, but fired after discovering his wife unfaithful with his boss. Beat his boss nearly to death. In desperate need of financial assistance for lawyers.'
Well that's mostly true. I actually had felt pretty certain I'd killed him, but that's irrelevant.
'If you need money, respond to this text message.'
I look around myself, eyeing empty boxes and packages, carcasses of delivery, foreign objects to remind myself of my new position in life. From superstar hire to forgotten fuck up. Isn't this how life tends to go?
I respond, the letters vibrating softly as I tap the screen. Type and tap with the soul of a dead man. Who cares if they steal all my information? I may as well be dead.
Wait. I sit and wait and pray for death but it doesn't come.
Another vibrate, the long vibration of a new text message. Is it my bitch of an ex wife?
No.
It appears to be our mysterious benefactor. Still a half step from telling him to suck a dick.
'Outside your building you will find a paper bag. Take the note inside and read it to a man at your favorite coffee shop. The one you took Ali to on your first date.'
How the fuck does it know that?
Surreal, I pull on actual unsoiled pants and a plain blue button down. The only clean clothes I have left.
Out the hall. Bid a good morning to Mr. Klaskowitz, who tells me to fuck off.
I like him.
Down the stairs, trot, trot, trot. No elevator for me.
Into the briskness of morning, that bright sunshine that denotes a new day for you to squander, another opportunity to fail. How a morning brings out the best in me.
Near the corner is a plain brown paper bag. I half expect for a sandwich and a note from my mom wishing me a good day at school.
Down the street for what feels like forever, with that detachment a man feels when surrounded by strangers. Engulfed in humanity but so far removed from it.
There it is.
A failing coffee shop, overpriced bagels and watered down sewage based coffee.
Ali and I had sat across from each other, awkwardly trying to get to know each other after drunkenly fucking our brains out the night before. The way two people try to find connection desperately, even though deep down they know it isn't there.
Ding ding goes the bell by the door.
Sit down.
Wait.
Attempt to not puke.
There are a few women in the shop, but only one man. He sits in jeans and a hoodie, pretending to read a paper. I recognized that tactic. Used it all the time when Ali would yell at me in the morning.
I get up, walk over, nearly trip, and pull up a chair.
Reach into the bag.
Pull out a strip of yellow paper.
'Echo, Foxtrot, Bees in the trees. Light the pig, throw the bottle.'
No response from the man.
The fuck am I doing?
He pulls out his phone and quickly taps letters into his phone, maintaining an uncomfortable level of eye contact.
Somehow this is the right man.
"Ever heard of crypto-currency, dead man?"
I shrug.
"What, like bitcoin?"
A chortle.
"Yeah, like bitcoin. You're not getting paid in cash, but call this man."
Another strip of similarly colored paper. Part of me wants to tell him to eat shit, that this isn't exactly a fair deal, but whatever. All I had to do was walk to a street and relive a memory from a woman I can't stand thinking about. Whatever.
Out the door, back towards the apartment.
Down the street, a familiar face.
Brown hair, brown eyes. Sharp facial features. A slim, short frame.
Ali.
She isn't with fuck face the boss, but I don't know what to do. Walk by her and ignore her, I guess.
I stop and watch the man I just met drop off a lunch box near a police car. No one seems to notice.
Odd.
Turn back to the oncoming surge of people, forgettable faces but Ali drawing closer.
She's enraged. At me, or something else, I don't really consider it my problem anymore.
An explosion.
The air sunders with the collapse and force of violence, I cannot even register what has happened but feel myself thrown forward.
Dust clogs the air, making it difficult to breathe.
I can barely hear, I must have burst an ear drum. People stagger around me. I feel rather than hear the phone vibration in my pocket.
'Well done, meatbag.'
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Ali grabs my collar out of nowhere, the shock seems to have sunk into the crowd but not into her. She hauls me away, pushing me into an alley with the anger of an inconvenienced mother.
Her lips move but I can't hear her.
Once upon a time I would kiss her. But that time has passed.
"Do you have any idea what the fuck you've just done?"
Definitely her voice. Sirens, whirling vehicles past us. The crowd flees, seeking shelter. Perhaps a second attack?
I hear the crack of what I assume to be gunfire, but slump against the brick behind me.
Ali grabs me again, showing me her phone.
'Take the job to protect Alex and get a hefty payday'
"I don't know what the fuck you've gotten yourself into, but you're in deep shit."
She hauls me up, and for the first time I see a pistol in her right hand.
"Move, dipshit! Right fucking now!"
She leads me away at gun point. What kind of dream is this?
More yelling, more screaming, more crying. Cracks and gunfire in the street near us. A blast in the distance. What the hell is going on?
Ali pushes me forward, gun in hand, clawed nails in my neck.
Down the alley, a black vehicle waits with a door wide open.
To what, I do not know.
I only have one question but a stranger lives in my body, asking for me.
"Where are the kids?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Will try to get back to this soon - r/storiesfromapotato
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[WP] Write from the point of view of someone developing Stockholm syndrome.
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*W-where am I?* was my first thought when I woke up in a bed that wasn't my own, in a room I had never seen before. I felt a little groggy, like I had been asleep for days, as I sat up. After rubbing my eyes I had took a look around me.
The room was square. It seemed 10x10 ft in size. There were no windows and only two doors, one directly ahead of me and another to the right. No other furniture besides the bed was in the room.
I had gotten up from the bed and had begun walking towards the door ahead of me, it was then that I had realized I was shackled to the bed by my ankle. I had found that the shackle was long enough for me to reach the door, but it hadn't mattered since the door was locked. I had moved to the second do, which opened up into a bathroom. There was a bath tub, mirror, sink, towels hanging, toilet paper and a toilet. The bathroom was also windowless.
After that I had went back into the main room. *How did I end up here?* What I last remembered was leaving my home to go Christmas shopping on a Saturday morning. I had kissed my wife and told her I'd be back by 3:00pm. *Maggie must be worried sick* I had thought. It could have been that a week had passed since I had last seen my wife because who knows how long I had been asleep for. *Why am I even here? Did someone kidnap me? Am I being held for ransom, or has a serial killer abducted me to be his next victim?* That last thought had worried me. I had quickly went back to the locked door and frantically tried to open it. The door had to be the way out since the other led to the bathroom.
I had tried with all my might to push open the door. I even had tried kicking it down, but it didn't budge. Defeated, I had went back to sit on my bed. The only option I had was to sit and wait. For what? I didn't know.
I didn't know how much more time had passed with me just sitting on the bed. It seemed like hours until I heard movement from the other side of the locked door. After a couple of minutes the door had opened to reveal a man.
The man was rather short, maybe 5'5, he had medium length dirty blonde hair, and pale skin. He seemed younger than me by two years. What struck me most about his appearance was his eyes. They were a vivid dark blue.
The man closed the door behind him as he entered. He hadn't done anything after that. He had just stood there by the door watching me.
"Who are you?" I'd decided to ask after a few minutes of silence. The man didn't answer. "Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?" I continued when he hadn't responded.
"Are you hungry?" The man asked me before I could ask another question. "I'm not."
"Are you thirsty?"
*I don't get what's going on* I was completely confused, and a bit unsettled at how shy he seemed when he was speaking to me. It had made me think that this person could be a victim of sorts too. He could've been forced into working with the bad guy who had kidnapped me.
"Can you please tell me who you are?" I tried asking again. The man hesitated for a moment. "... My name is Seth."
"Well hello, Seth. My name is Sebastian." I said with a friendly smile. *If I can get him to trust me than maybe we can help each other to escape*
Seth had given me a soft smile in return. "Seth? I was wondering if you could possibly tell me where I am? Or at least why I'm here?" Seth started to rapidly shake his head. "I-I can't. I-I can't. It's too dangerous. I-I have t-to go." he stammered as he started for the door. "Seth! Wait!" I tried calling out, but it was already too late. Seth had ran out.
After that Seth came regularly every day, three times a day. That's how I ended up knowing the time more or less. He'd come in the morning and provide me breakfast, lunch in noon, and dinner later in the day. Also he'd provide me with fresh clothes to change into. During those times I would try asking him more questions about where I was was, and about the captor. Everytime I did though, he'd shake his head and rush out. I ended up switching to just trying to talk to him. Spending so much time alone in the room in between meals was starting to get to me, so being able to at least converse with Seth was nice.
I had ended up learning quite a bit about him. He loved reading books, taking pictures, and cooking (he had been the one making my meals). He seemed like a nice guys which had made me want to escape with him even more.
"Seth?" I had asked one time when he wheeled in my lunch. "Yeah, Sebastian."
"Do you think you can do me a favor?" Seth had tilted his head at that "What is it?"
"I need you to find the keys for my shackles." Seth had started to shake his head rapidly. "I c-cant do that!" I knew he was about to runaway again so I had grabbed him. "Please, Seth!"
"No! If you get free then you'll leave a-and I'll be all alone!"
"You can come with me, Seth!"
"I can't do that because if I do you'll leave me and they'll take me because of what I did!" with that he pulled away from me with surprising strength and ran out the room.
His words had kept circling around my head. *They'll take him because of what he did?* Who'll take him? Did he think the bad person who had kidnapped him would find him and take him again? Or.... Or did he mean the police. I didn't know.
Seth hadn't come back after that. Even to give me dinner. The next day he had been a no show. Then the day after that.
By the time he did show up I was starving. The only reason I hadn't gotten dehydrated was because I had been drinking from the sink in the restroom. He hadn't said anything at first as I had started to stuff my face with the sandwich he provided me, I only barley kept myself from choking.
"Sebastian... I wish I could let you go. I-I want to, but having you here and talking to you... It's wonderful. You don't know how long I've waited for you. I needed someone like you. Without you I would have already given up on myself.... I would have just d-died."
I had looked up from my food at that."What do you mean, Seth?"
"You can never leave here. I'm sorry, Sebastian." he had left after saying that.
I don't know for how long I've been staying in the room. I've tried counting the days, but I had end up forgetting them. Seth still comes in with food and fresh clothes. I hadn't talk to him at first, but as I said before, there is only so much loneliness I could take.
Throughout this time I still think about my wife, how she probably thinks I'm dead. Also how I can't be mad at Seth.
He had told me how he suffers from extreme depression and mental illness, also how people had have treated him poorly all his life.
Apparently he had been working at a gas station I had once used, and because I had been nice to him he latched onto that. I was the first person to ever show any kindness to him, so he became obsessed with me. He had seemed so pathetic when he had talked about how happy he had felt when I had given him a smile.
I guess that's why I don't really blame him for keeping me here, I mean he hasn't treated me wrong. In fact he's always kept to being kind. I actually think he has a crush on me, it's kinda cute, in a way.
I think maybe it's not good that I'm beginning to feel alright with everything.
Hell, I gotten a chance to escape the other day. Seth had given into my pleads to go outside, so as long as I promised not to do anything. He had unshackled me and lead me out of the room. I ended up finding out that my room was in the basement of a one story house, and when I went outside, that we were in a very remote place surrounded by forest. I didn't do anything other then take in the fresh air, I know I should have tried to escape. Instead I had went on a walk with him. It had been a nice summers day as we walked and talked together. After that I had done nothing but let him lead me back into my room.
I guess because I feel bad for him I don't want to up and leave. He would probably kill himself if I left him alone. I think after awhile he'll let me go on his own, once he realizes that he should seek professional help for his depression and mental health. When Seth is ready he'll definitely let me free. I'm sure of it, and that's what I'll keep telling myself as the days pass.
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You never know the surprises that life throws at you. One day I was going through my normal routine ready to go to my usual humdrum job as a sales rep at the local car dealership.
I pressed my remote starter to give my truck enough time to warm up, the fresh fallen snow enveloping the exterior. I glanced at the clock on the microwave. 7:15. Enough time for me to have one more cigarette and another cup of dark roast coffee.
I looked in the mirror as I finished my smoke, making sure my tie was on straight. "Gotta make sure you're presentable" I heard my boss repeat in my head. His name was Derek and he was a real douchebag. The kind of boss you put up with only because you have to. I sighed. One of these days I'll muster up the courage to tell him what I think of him. For now I'll just have to suck it up and show up for work like a good boy.
All of these thoughts continued to roll through my mind as I made my way to the truck, unaware that the rest of my life was going to change that day.
The traffic lights were all red as every intersection said the universe was out to get me. I just shrugged my shoulders and turned the radio louder. Today I don't give a shit. Come at me universe. Do your worst.
As soon as I had thought that, I noticed a black SUV coming up fast behind me, snow flying every which way, the SUV swerving as it came closer... closer...until the sound of metal and plastic crunching, and my head hit the steering wheel... lights out.
What took place afterwards I only know because my captor informed me later on as I recovered from my injuries in her basement. A concussion, a little whiplash and some minor cuts and bruises. Not bad considering she was intent on murder. But as she dragged me from the vehicle she had a change of heart and decided to spare my life. How considerate.
"Who are you and what do you want from me?" I asked her, as soon as I was able to speak.
"Call me Porshia" she replied in an accent I couldn't quite place, her face almost angelic... but no I must be crazy to think like that. "I will give you answers in due time, but for now you rest" she ordered.
In the weeks that followed, Porshia explained the situation she was in. She needed money, lots of it, to pay off her debts. My ex-wife had hired her to kill me (Rita--- that low life scum... I should have known she had something to do with this).
For some reason, the more I listened to Porshia and the more I got to know her, the less I cared about why I wasn't home, why I was still captive. For all I cared she could keep me forever. Yes I was crazy... but also intrigued. There was a certain magic in the way she spoke and the way she moved...
Life has a way of surprising you... bring it on universe...
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[WP] After years of paranoia, you decide to fake your own death. At your own funeral, everyone starts cheering and hugging each other when a booming voice from the sky says "THE EXPERIMENT HAS BEEN COMPLETED. ALL PARTICIPANTS MAY RETURN TO THEIR POSTS."
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The plan was working perfectly, my empty coffin being lowered into the ground. It was so simple, a car accident, an explosion, an unidentifiable corpse. There were a few people at my funeral who wept, true friends that I could count on. There are hundreds more people, some I know and many that I barely recognise. My boss and co-workers are here. My neighbours were also here, most of them I barely said hello to. Even people like cashiers from my local supermarket had attended. But what stood out most is none of them were wearing black, as appropriate for a funeral. Most had regular clothes on, t-shirt jeans for the more casual and business wear for the more formal, but a large portion of them wore crisp white jump suits, like something from a sci-fi movie. I continued to spy on my funeral, feeling just as out of place as I always did.
The minister took the podium. "Congratulations everyone. The experiment was a complete success. You may now all return to normality. Your final credit transfers will be made tomorrow. Please contact Immersive Realities if you would like to assist with the next character-centric, time-fixed, historical experience!
I was dumbfounded. Where was my eulogy? What was he talking about? My head was racing. The noise of attendees of my funeral giving each other congratulations for their *performances* was interrupted by a buzzing, hissing sound. I looked around to see the buildings around me were vanishing in a haze of computer generated static. The area around Central Park, so familiar to me, vanished into pixelation. The cars unloaded and vanished, replaced with weird egg-shaped capsules. Great white and gold spires with glowing blue trim rose up into the sky, where many of the same egg-shaped vehicles sped between them.
The world I knew of dissipated into digital oblivion in front of my own two eyes. I screamed. It wasn't deliberate. My entire world was gone, and I was a lone 21st century person among an alien world. Terror gripped me.
"Oh shit, he's alive! Protocol 83, PROTOCOL 83!" the minster shouted, scaring me out of my fear paralysis.
The hundreds of faces still staring at me were the same. At least they were real, but who were they?
Some of them took a step towards me.
I turned ran into the alien white city.
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*Thump.*
My casket hit the ground.
I smiled, and straightened my sunglasses. The funeral was a success. Great attendance -- about a hundred people! I didn't think I was that popular. And my friend, John, gave an *amazing* speech. "Jenny was a beautiful woman, who always made me laugh." We had some amazing times. I was sad to say goodbye to him.
The rest of them, I could do without.
Fr. Tom -- who was leading the funeral, and my priest -- was really... weird. One time I confessed that I had sex Brad, and he -- well, first he said something that made no sense. He said "I know." I gawped, and he said "I see everything God sees." (Needless to say, I never went back to confession after that.) And what about Brad? He sat in the back row, sobbing, using the same tissue over and over.
Yeah, I wouldn't miss him.
At all.
I glanced at the rest of the crowd, combing through my freshly-bleached hair. Near the front sat Ethel, my next-door neighbor, covered in cat hairs. Actually, she's what started all this. I would open my blinds late at night, and see her at her window, staring at me. And then she'd pretend she was dusting or cooking or petting her cats. But I knew.
I knew she was watching me.
Also, her cats were always wandering around my backyard.
I glanced over at Fr. Tom. He was sharing some last words, and I didn't care to hear them. I turned around, my black coat flipping in the wind, when --
*Applause.*
I whipped around.
Fr. Tom had yanked off his cassock, revealing brightly-colored garb underneath. Brad had stopped crying, and was grinning. And Ethel was freakin' *dancing.*
John still looked sad though. So there's that.
"My name -- my real name -- is Quincy," Fr. Tom said. "And, for those who are wondering -- yes, it was *really* interesting playing a priest, when I'm an atheist taxi driver from Chicago."
What?
He gestured to Brad. "Let me introduce some other important players. Brad here was *supposed* to play the boyfriend -- to document Jenny's emotions -- but he got so tired of her, he quit after a week. So we had John step in for that role, as the supportive friend."
John raised his hand, and faked a smile.
"And let's not forget Ethel!" Quincy said. "She did most of the video documentation. Cameras in the windows, cameras and microphones attached to her cats..."
"I can finally buy a dog!" she yelled, continuing to dance.
"All of this to create... the Jenny Movie!"
The sky dimmed. From somewhere above, light projected a video on the side of a mausoleum. "From the creators of *The Truman Show*," a voice boomed. "Jenny Andrews is just your average millenial woman. She doesn't know what to do with her life. She hasn't found love. She's..."
Hey! That's not nice!
Motion, in the darkness, caught my attention.
John.
He was rushing out, through the graveyard, wiping his face with his sleeve.
I jogged towards him. "John!" I hissed. "Hey! John!"
He continued, kicking over a few of the tombstones. They fell. Made of foam.
"John!"
He turned. I tore off my sunglasses.
"Jenny! You're --"
I kissed him.
He kissed back.
And for the first time in my life, it all felt so *real.*
---
more writings at r/CSDouglas!
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[WP] After years of paranoia, you decide to fake your own death. At your own funeral, everyone starts cheering and hugging each other when a booming voice from the sky says "THE EXPERIMENT HAS BEEN COMPLETED. ALL PARTICIPANTS MAY RETURN TO THEIR POSTS."
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The plan was working perfectly, my empty coffin being lowered into the ground. It was so simple, a car accident, an explosion, an unidentifiable corpse. There were a few people at my funeral who wept, true friends that I could count on. There are hundreds more people, some I know and many that I barely recognise. My boss and co-workers are here. My neighbours were also here, most of them I barely said hello to. Even people like cashiers from my local supermarket had attended. But what stood out most is none of them were wearing black, as appropriate for a funeral. Most had regular clothes on, t-shirt jeans for the more casual and business wear for the more formal, but a large portion of them wore crisp white jump suits, like something from a sci-fi movie. I continued to spy on my funeral, feeling just as out of place as I always did.
The minister took the podium. "Congratulations everyone. The experiment was a complete success. You may now all return to normality. Your final credit transfers will be made tomorrow. Please contact Immersive Realities if you would like to assist with the next character-centric, time-fixed, historical experience!
I was dumbfounded. Where was my eulogy? What was he talking about? My head was racing. The noise of attendees of my funeral giving each other congratulations for their *performances* was interrupted by a buzzing, hissing sound. I looked around to see the buildings around me were vanishing in a haze of computer generated static. The area around Central Park, so familiar to me, vanished into pixelation. The cars unloaded and vanished, replaced with weird egg-shaped capsules. Great white and gold spires with glowing blue trim rose up into the sky, where many of the same egg-shaped vehicles sped between them.
The world I knew of dissipated into digital oblivion in front of my own two eyes. I screamed. It wasn't deliberate. My entire world was gone, and I was a lone 21st century person among an alien world. Terror gripped me.
"Oh shit, he's alive! Protocol 83, PROTOCOL 83!" the minster shouted, scaring me out of my fear paralysis.
The hundreds of faces still staring at me were the same. At least they were real, but who were they?
Some of them took a step towards me.
I turned ran into the alien white city.
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Schizophrenia. Bi-polar disorder. Paranoid delusions. Whatever multi-syllable mental illness one could find in the American Manual of Mental Disorders, Stan had it. Though it didn’t take a genius to diagnose him. He heard voices, telling him to do horrible things. At times, he thought he was invincible. And once for two weeks, he refused to poop due to the *invisible camera hidden inside his toilet*.
So when Stan starting talking about suicide, it was just another of his many diagnosis. The psychiatrist prescribed him Celexa and a handful more sessions a week.
“Aren’t you worried about mixing drugs?” Stan asked.
“Don’t worry,” his psychiatrist assured him. “We are very careful with our prescriptions.”
Stan raised an eyebrow. His list of prescriptions was longer than the Sunday grocery list for a family of five.
“Just make sure you’re taking your meds, on time and on schedule,” the psychiatrist said, scratching into his notepad with a pen. “Don’t skip any, especially not the Zyprexa.”
“How did you know that I’m skipping that one?”
The psychiatrist shrugged. “Now I do.”
Stan opened his mouth to challenge his doctor. The shrink had said it with such certainty that there was no way he had only guessed. But that would only start another conversation they had already been through. Next thing he knew, it’d be two weeks later and he’d need a bottle of laxatives just to make a bowel movement.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take them. Are we done?” He knew he was being rude, but it seemed that everybody in this place was rude. The cashier refused to make eye contact, the mailman slammed the newspapers into his front door, even the coffee shop barista never smiled at him.
The psychiatrist nodded. No eye contact. No smile. “Remember, if you have any serious thoughts about hurting yourself, let me know. I can have you admitted somewhere.”
Everyone always told Stan that he was overreacting, that it was all in his head, but he had skipped his meds for two weeks now and never found more clarity. He wasn’t schizophrenic. The voices were real. He wasn’t bi-polar, he truly couldn’t be killed by anyone other than himself. He wasn’t paranoid, everybody here truly despised him. And most importantly, he wasn’t suicidal.
Two hours later and Stan would be dead. Well, not actually, but convincingly enough for the psychiatrist, the local hospital, and even the police department.
---
The funeral took place a full two months after Stan’s death. His parents had insisted that they find his body first, but eventually, they just went with burying an empty casket. They kept it closed so they could pretend that he was in there. It was probably just wishful thinking on their part.
Stan had thought that it would be hard to sneak into his funeral. He had planned on only watching from afar, but then hundreds of people showed. He didn’t have as many Facebook friends as the people at his funeral. And none of them dressed in black, instead, they all wore casual clothes—bright summer dresses, colorful blouses, even Hawaiian shirts!
In the end, he did stick out like a sore thumb, but only because he was the only one dressed appropriate for a funeral. He kept his hat low and sat in a chair as the rest of the people conversed. Finally, the psychiatrist got up on the podium.
“We did it,” the psychiatrist said. “The experiment is over. All participants may return to their posts.” With a small pause, he yelled. “We can go home!”
Everybody erupted in cheers. Everyone except Stan.
“Way to go Steve!” an attendee hooted.
“Steve!?” Stan yelled. He stood up, knocking his chair over.
The funeral grounds silenced. Everyone turned toward him. The blood drained from their faces.
Stan scanned the crowd. Only now did he realize that none of these people had names. There was the mailman, the cashier, the coffee shop barista, the psychiatrist… the list went on. Even mother and father were simply mom and dad. Nobody had names in this place.
And that was the trick.
He finally remembered past the haze of three years’ worth of mixing drugs. His name wasn’t Stan, it was Satan.
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[WP] Spells must be cast on an empty stomach. The longer it's been since the mage has eaten, the more powerful the magic.
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I gaze at the gilded book before me, the page filled with illustration after illustration of gory death - warnings to us all. Strong magic is a question of purity. An impure mind is known to distort magic - many a mage has ended up missing a limb as result of an errant lustful or jealous thought - but that is nothing compared to what an impure body will do. There is no coming back from that.
When magic had been discovered it was fickle and weak - useful only for unpredictable parlour tricks. At first, researchers moved in the wrong direction entirely. They feasted before practising magic - piling carb after carb into their bodies in the hopes that the thing that gave them nourishment would nourish their magic as well. It did not, to put it lightly. Most had been made so impure by the outside elements in their bodies that they didn’t manage to produce any magic at all. Others were not so lucky. Those who somehow called up magic while tainted with the impurity of food were destroyed.
My knight, Keira, walks into the living room we share - one look at the weaponry strapped to her hips and I know where she’s been.
“How was the shooting range?” She grunts in response.
“Same - the targets are too slow and the instructors are worse.”
“Hah, they’re too slow or you’re too fast?” That earns me a half smile and a shake of her head as she moves into the kitchen.
Keira eats food, and lots of it. Although there is almost nothing I can’t do with my magic, there is still a use for brute strength and physical skills. In terms of building up good ol’ muscle, for some reason magic has nothing on the human diet. I’ve experimented with different amounts of nutrients over the years - more protein, more carbs, more everything - but I’ve never come anywhere near the sheer muscle Keira is somehow able to maintain. I provide our dear leaders with defensive and offensive magic, and should that fail for any reason then Keira is around to protect their investment - me.
I am the first born of a group of children that we now call *Purests*. Like those who came after me, I have never tasted material nourishment. I was taken from my mother before I could so much as reach towards her breast and put under the watchful eye of the government’s mages. Wanting me untainted by any form of physical sustenance, they used their magic to nourish me and my compatriots until we were old enough to take over the process ourselves.
I feel a mild humming behind me eyes and open my mind to my boss, Dave.
*You have a mission tonight - meet at 10pm to be briefed.*
The communication is over as soon as it’s begun. I float myself off of the couch and head to the kitchen to let Keira know.
---
I hear a scream choked off halfway through as Aaron combusts - I hope he didn’t take his knight Chris with him, but I don’t have time to check. I cry out as a coordinated effort by our opponents shakes the shield I’ve erected around Keira and I. She’s beside me and ready to fight, but there’s not much she can do unless I can break through the enemy shields.
We had intercepted coordinates where the rebels who opposed the restrictions our government used to keep us safe would be picking up weapons and supplies. The mission was a simple one for Aaron, Liv, and I - no engagement, we wait for the drop off and beat the rebels to the items. We should have been gone before anyone else even arrived, but as soon as we stepped into the parking lot we knew something was wrong. More than twenty written spells had been set off - not spells of protection, but of attack. Dozens of rebels had spilled from the trees and hiking paths surround the area, and with only basic magic shields engaged for the simple mission we’d been left rushing to fend off the fireballs, lightning strikes, and crushing forces with appropriate defences. Liv had vanished within the first thirty seconds, although I hadn’t seen the black clouds usually associated with a vanishing spells anywhere near her. Since then, Aaron and I had been hanging on as best we could. Now, it was just me.
Keira screams into my right ear as she lets a handful of knives fly towards a group of rebels, “Let’s go! Alexis, we have to go NOW!"
There’s nothing I’d like better right now, but with this many mages on the other side I can barely keep the rebel attacks at bay, much less whip up a two-person teleportation spell. Another multi- spell assault hits my shield and I feel rather than see a crack begin to form. Right on its tail, a mage teleports something oblong at me - I hope it’s nothing explosive as I deflect it to the left. A succession of attacks hits me and the last one makes it through - a weight hits my belly and I’m knocked back a metre.
Gazing up at the advancing rebels, my stomach feels leaden - *I never knew fear could feel this physical*.
I reach for my magic but something stops me - it’s different… it feels wilder and almost hostile. With horror, I realize what they’ve done. I look in the direction I deflected the last spell and just about sob. The weight in my stomach wasn’t fear, but something much, much worse - bread.
Keira’s back at my side, pulling at my arm. I can hear her voice, but I can't process the words. She has me halfway off the ground before I can tell her what they’ve done.
“Keira, my stomach… They’ve done something, they’ve put something in it.” Her eyes are uncomprehending at first, but they widen as I point over my shoulder towards the deflected bread.
As she gapes at what they’ve done to me I see lightning flickering into being, controlled by a mage not five metres away.
I could try to block it despite my impurity, but I think of the fire that surrounded Aaron and Chris - Keira might still make it out of this alive.
“Run!” I yell at her. I start sprinting away myself to get her going, but we aren’t far before I feel the magic preparing to strike. I look at her face one more time and take in her green eyes and flushed cheeks. Gasping with the strain it takes to keep pace with her, I barely manage to get the words out.
“Keira, you have to keep running! You have to tell them what’s happened!” She glares at me as best as she can while moving at such high speed.
“What? What are you - just run!"
It’s too late. As soon as I feel the magic coming towards us I turn to face it. I’m no fighter without my purity, but I can do one last trick.
I hear Keira cry out as I throw myself into the lightning bolt - I hope she keeps running.
|
She quietly crosses the inn's common room wrapped in a heavy dark cloak. I could tell she is a powerful mage, my stomach growling slightly as I passively scan her. Nothing about her was familiar to me though. I press myself further back into the corner to avoid notice.
I watch her speak to the bartender, unseen power radiating from her. She puts a solitary copper coin on the counter and receives a small biscuit in return. I can see her wrist bones outlined in her pale skin as she picks up the meagre piece of food. She was a serious mage, one not easily given in to temptation.
My stomach growls again but I know that I can't sate my hunger until the morning. The full moon is soon and I have to stay focused to have enough power for midnight. Many other mages will also be casting this evening, and I wanted to avoid as much notice as possible. The common room of an inn was the last place a fellow mage would come, the smells too tempting for many of them. The hunters, particularly busy on a night portentous as this one, would also not venture in, too many people for too little result.
I peer over my mug of water at her as she nibbles delicately on the hard biscuit. I see that she's measuring out the exact amount of food that will keep her going without spoiling her power. I chose to fast since yesterday and sip on water to control the hunger. She finishes only half the biscuit, I assume that's all she needs for now. She wraps the rest in a cloth and puts it in her pocket, then draws out a book.
Now's my chance. It will only take a little power, the food she just consumed will dull her sense. I secretly channel a wind spell under the table, willing the delicious smell of the kitchen to drift over to her side of the room. I chose this table simply because it was where the smell was strongest, it would harden my resolve. She chose the other side, away from the smells that would cause temptation.
It only took a minute before she looked up from her book. She swallows hard. Her hand draws out the other half of the biscuit. There she stared at it for a while, trying to determine what harm could come from a little bit more. As she deliberates I cast the spell again. Her eyes widen as the smell becomes stronger. Suddenly she throws her biscuit across the room in disgust, angrily looking around to find the perpetrator of the situation. Damn. She figured it out and if it wasn't for the food in her stomach right now, she would have been able to find my aura even among all of the other patrons.
I quickly cast a veiling spell masking my image to look like the wall behind, my stomach turning to knots. She spots my corner but to her eyes I am gone. A wry smile appears on her lips as she stows her book and stands up. I could not tell if she had spotted me or not. She walks to the bartender and converses with him, coin and key exchanging hands, then she heads upstairs to a rented room.
I let out a sigh of relief. It was too close to the completion of my plan. I pull out my book of notes and continue writing.
Ten minutes later, a large platter of food is dumped onto the table in front of me. Roasted meats still steaming, pies just out of the oven, honeyed pastries glistening with deliciousness.
That witch.
|
|
[WP] Spells must be cast on an empty stomach. The longer it's been since the mage has eaten, the more powerful the magic.
|
I gaze at the gilded book before me, the page filled with illustration after illustration of gory death - warnings to us all. Strong magic is a question of purity. An impure mind is known to distort magic - many a mage has ended up missing a limb as result of an errant lustful or jealous thought - but that is nothing compared to what an impure body will do. There is no coming back from that.
When magic had been discovered it was fickle and weak - useful only for unpredictable parlour tricks. At first, researchers moved in the wrong direction entirely. They feasted before practising magic - piling carb after carb into their bodies in the hopes that the thing that gave them nourishment would nourish their magic as well. It did not, to put it lightly. Most had been made so impure by the outside elements in their bodies that they didn’t manage to produce any magic at all. Others were not so lucky. Those who somehow called up magic while tainted with the impurity of food were destroyed.
My knight, Keira, walks into the living room we share - one look at the weaponry strapped to her hips and I know where she’s been.
“How was the shooting range?” She grunts in response.
“Same - the targets are too slow and the instructors are worse.”
“Hah, they’re too slow or you’re too fast?” That earns me a half smile and a shake of her head as she moves into the kitchen.
Keira eats food, and lots of it. Although there is almost nothing I can’t do with my magic, there is still a use for brute strength and physical skills. In terms of building up good ol’ muscle, for some reason magic has nothing on the human diet. I’ve experimented with different amounts of nutrients over the years - more protein, more carbs, more everything - but I’ve never come anywhere near the sheer muscle Keira is somehow able to maintain. I provide our dear leaders with defensive and offensive magic, and should that fail for any reason then Keira is around to protect their investment - me.
I am the first born of a group of children that we now call *Purests*. Like those who came after me, I have never tasted material nourishment. I was taken from my mother before I could so much as reach towards her breast and put under the watchful eye of the government’s mages. Wanting me untainted by any form of physical sustenance, they used their magic to nourish me and my compatriots until we were old enough to take over the process ourselves.
I feel a mild humming behind me eyes and open my mind to my boss, Dave.
*You have a mission tonight - meet at 10pm to be briefed.*
The communication is over as soon as it’s begun. I float myself off of the couch and head to the kitchen to let Keira know.
---
I hear a scream choked off halfway through as Aaron combusts - I hope he didn’t take his knight Chris with him, but I don’t have time to check. I cry out as a coordinated effort by our opponents shakes the shield I’ve erected around Keira and I. She’s beside me and ready to fight, but there’s not much she can do unless I can break through the enemy shields.
We had intercepted coordinates where the rebels who opposed the restrictions our government used to keep us safe would be picking up weapons and supplies. The mission was a simple one for Aaron, Liv, and I - no engagement, we wait for the drop off and beat the rebels to the items. We should have been gone before anyone else even arrived, but as soon as we stepped into the parking lot we knew something was wrong. More than twenty written spells had been set off - not spells of protection, but of attack. Dozens of rebels had spilled from the trees and hiking paths surround the area, and with only basic magic shields engaged for the simple mission we’d been left rushing to fend off the fireballs, lightning strikes, and crushing forces with appropriate defences. Liv had vanished within the first thirty seconds, although I hadn’t seen the black clouds usually associated with a vanishing spells anywhere near her. Since then, Aaron and I had been hanging on as best we could. Now, it was just me.
Keira screams into my right ear as she lets a handful of knives fly towards a group of rebels, “Let’s go! Alexis, we have to go NOW!"
There’s nothing I’d like better right now, but with this many mages on the other side I can barely keep the rebel attacks at bay, much less whip up a two-person teleportation spell. Another multi- spell assault hits my shield and I feel rather than see a crack begin to form. Right on its tail, a mage teleports something oblong at me - I hope it’s nothing explosive as I deflect it to the left. A succession of attacks hits me and the last one makes it through - a weight hits my belly and I’m knocked back a metre.
Gazing up at the advancing rebels, my stomach feels leaden - *I never knew fear could feel this physical*.
I reach for my magic but something stops me - it’s different… it feels wilder and almost hostile. With horror, I realize what they’ve done. I look in the direction I deflected the last spell and just about sob. The weight in my stomach wasn’t fear, but something much, much worse - bread.
Keira’s back at my side, pulling at my arm. I can hear her voice, but I can't process the words. She has me halfway off the ground before I can tell her what they’ve done.
“Keira, my stomach… They’ve done something, they’ve put something in it.” Her eyes are uncomprehending at first, but they widen as I point over my shoulder towards the deflected bread.
As she gapes at what they’ve done to me I see lightning flickering into being, controlled by a mage not five metres away.
I could try to block it despite my impurity, but I think of the fire that surrounded Aaron and Chris - Keira might still make it out of this alive.
“Run!” I yell at her. I start sprinting away myself to get her going, but we aren’t far before I feel the magic preparing to strike. I look at her face one more time and take in her green eyes and flushed cheeks. Gasping with the strain it takes to keep pace with her, I barely manage to get the words out.
“Keira, you have to keep running! You have to tell them what’s happened!” She glares at me as best as she can while moving at such high speed.
“What? What are you - just run!"
It’s too late. As soon as I feel the magic coming towards us I turn to face it. I’m no fighter without my purity, but I can do one last trick.
I hear Keira cry out as I throw myself into the lightning bolt - I hope she keeps running.
|
It started with a single day. I had refused to eat the dinner. I thought it was yucky. The next morning I once again refused to eat. Until at the end of the day. All by myself a little flame ignite in my hands at will. The power was awesome in the literal sense of the word.
It pulled me in. But eventually mortal needs came in. I ate. And it all vanished. It wasn't until almost a year later that I gathered enough energy to do anything. It was when we were starving.
My father had made deals with the wrong people, and we had found ourselves without an income. So I wished for what I thought would make it all better; money. It only succeeded in getting them thrown in jail for my crime, and me getting sent to the orphanage.
It was probably the best thing they could've done. The burning headaches kept me from keeping it for long. The aching hunger had been easily ignored, and the headaches masked them. However, the pain of the headaches made it too hard.
That's what the orphanage helped with. Pure torture. Beatings from other boys, and ridicule, until I could bear the pain for a month. For food itself didn't matter, only your will. I didn't know what magic kept me from perishing, and frankly I didn't.
All I could feel was power. And at the end of the month, the whole orphanage just *disappeared.* Soon enough I was able to do it consistently enough that I just conjured a cloak. Something meant to be impossible.
That's when the months started to creep up to years. Only broken when the pain started to ƀɍɇȺꝁ my mind. Then a decade. I was gaining a reputation. A gold cloak draped over my shoulders. Then a simple accident. And I was gone. At least in physical form.
|
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[WP] Spells must be cast on an empty stomach. The longer it's been since the mage has eaten, the more powerful the magic.
|
I gaze at the gilded book before me, the page filled with illustration after illustration of gory death - warnings to us all. Strong magic is a question of purity. An impure mind is known to distort magic - many a mage has ended up missing a limb as result of an errant lustful or jealous thought - but that is nothing compared to what an impure body will do. There is no coming back from that.
When magic had been discovered it was fickle and weak - useful only for unpredictable parlour tricks. At first, researchers moved in the wrong direction entirely. They feasted before practising magic - piling carb after carb into their bodies in the hopes that the thing that gave them nourishment would nourish their magic as well. It did not, to put it lightly. Most had been made so impure by the outside elements in their bodies that they didn’t manage to produce any magic at all. Others were not so lucky. Those who somehow called up magic while tainted with the impurity of food were destroyed.
My knight, Keira, walks into the living room we share - one look at the weaponry strapped to her hips and I know where she’s been.
“How was the shooting range?” She grunts in response.
“Same - the targets are too slow and the instructors are worse.”
“Hah, they’re too slow or you’re too fast?” That earns me a half smile and a shake of her head as she moves into the kitchen.
Keira eats food, and lots of it. Although there is almost nothing I can’t do with my magic, there is still a use for brute strength and physical skills. In terms of building up good ol’ muscle, for some reason magic has nothing on the human diet. I’ve experimented with different amounts of nutrients over the years - more protein, more carbs, more everything - but I’ve never come anywhere near the sheer muscle Keira is somehow able to maintain. I provide our dear leaders with defensive and offensive magic, and should that fail for any reason then Keira is around to protect their investment - me.
I am the first born of a group of children that we now call *Purests*. Like those who came after me, I have never tasted material nourishment. I was taken from my mother before I could so much as reach towards her breast and put under the watchful eye of the government’s mages. Wanting me untainted by any form of physical sustenance, they used their magic to nourish me and my compatriots until we were old enough to take over the process ourselves.
I feel a mild humming behind me eyes and open my mind to my boss, Dave.
*You have a mission tonight - meet at 10pm to be briefed.*
The communication is over as soon as it’s begun. I float myself off of the couch and head to the kitchen to let Keira know.
---
I hear a scream choked off halfway through as Aaron combusts - I hope he didn’t take his knight Chris with him, but I don’t have time to check. I cry out as a coordinated effort by our opponents shakes the shield I’ve erected around Keira and I. She’s beside me and ready to fight, but there’s not much she can do unless I can break through the enemy shields.
We had intercepted coordinates where the rebels who opposed the restrictions our government used to keep us safe would be picking up weapons and supplies. The mission was a simple one for Aaron, Liv, and I - no engagement, we wait for the drop off and beat the rebels to the items. We should have been gone before anyone else even arrived, but as soon as we stepped into the parking lot we knew something was wrong. More than twenty written spells had been set off - not spells of protection, but of attack. Dozens of rebels had spilled from the trees and hiking paths surround the area, and with only basic magic shields engaged for the simple mission we’d been left rushing to fend off the fireballs, lightning strikes, and crushing forces with appropriate defences. Liv had vanished within the first thirty seconds, although I hadn’t seen the black clouds usually associated with a vanishing spells anywhere near her. Since then, Aaron and I had been hanging on as best we could. Now, it was just me.
Keira screams into my right ear as she lets a handful of knives fly towards a group of rebels, “Let’s go! Alexis, we have to go NOW!"
There’s nothing I’d like better right now, but with this many mages on the other side I can barely keep the rebel attacks at bay, much less whip up a two-person teleportation spell. Another multi- spell assault hits my shield and I feel rather than see a crack begin to form. Right on its tail, a mage teleports something oblong at me - I hope it’s nothing explosive as I deflect it to the left. A succession of attacks hits me and the last one makes it through - a weight hits my belly and I’m knocked back a metre.
Gazing up at the advancing rebels, my stomach feels leaden - *I never knew fear could feel this physical*.
I reach for my magic but something stops me - it’s different… it feels wilder and almost hostile. With horror, I realize what they’ve done. I look in the direction I deflected the last spell and just about sob. The weight in my stomach wasn’t fear, but something much, much worse - bread.
Keira’s back at my side, pulling at my arm. I can hear her voice, but I can't process the words. She has me halfway off the ground before I can tell her what they’ve done.
“Keira, my stomach… They’ve done something, they’ve put something in it.” Her eyes are uncomprehending at first, but they widen as I point over my shoulder towards the deflected bread.
As she gapes at what they’ve done to me I see lightning flickering into being, controlled by a mage not five metres away.
I could try to block it despite my impurity, but I think of the fire that surrounded Aaron and Chris - Keira might still make it out of this alive.
“Run!” I yell at her. I start sprinting away myself to get her going, but we aren’t far before I feel the magic preparing to strike. I look at her face one more time and take in her green eyes and flushed cheeks. Gasping with the strain it takes to keep pace with her, I barely manage to get the words out.
“Keira, you have to keep running! You have to tell them what’s happened!” She glares at me as best as she can while moving at such high speed.
“What? What are you - just run!"
It’s too late. As soon as I feel the magic coming towards us I turn to face it. I’m no fighter without my purity, but I can do one last trick.
I hear Keira cry out as I throw myself into the lightning bolt - I hope she keeps running.
|
I can't remember the last time I tasted food. I think it must have been a year or so. Now, I'm not one of those power-hungry jerks that starve themselves to harness the Spells. Only stupid fools would think a fireball is cooler than a all-you-can-eat buffet. Plus, the government actually forces people to eat, so that they cannot possess powers beyond measure. So, starving to store power for a powerful Spell is actually not that easy to do as what most people think. That does not stop them from trying though. One time, a crazed maniac unleashed a storm that did not stop for months. Another unleashed a family of flying serpents onto the city. Now, you may be wondering as to who I am or as to what is the reason why I'm starving. You see, I'm just a normal person, living a totally normal life. Unfortunately, the Corporation had other plans for me. They plan to build a better world, free from wars and fights. A united world where everyone likes each other. And so they plan on unleashing a phenomenon that can guarantee this plan of theirs. Using me, they plan on unleashing The Great Flood.
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I was at work, having to clean the dressing room mirrors, when i had the idea "how weird would it be for my reflection to move out of sync from me." So, yeah. Have at it.
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[WP] You're just going about your usual day when you walk by a mirror... and your reflection lags.
|
Hunched over and bleary-eyed, I made the journey out of my bed with last night’s bedside glass of water in the grip of my right hand.
But apparently my grip wasn’t tight enough, as the glass slipped and violently shattered on the timber floor.
I froze.
My eyes darted towards the left.
I couldn’t believe it.
No, it wasn’t because I dropped the glass.
I’ve always had the dexterity of a gorilla with Parkinson’s disease, so clumsy mishaps like this were a common occurrence.
It was due to the fact that the glass reached the ground at least half a second later in the reflection of the bedroom mirror.
But did it really?
I swear I saw it.
But it can’t be.
Maybe my mind is even more tired and groggy than my body would have me believe.
I abruptly started waving my arms around in a frenzy, my feet still planted to firmly to the ground to avoid the shards of debris.
After a few seconds I stopped when I realised that there was no lag, and also I probably looked like one of those inflatable, arm-flailing tube guys outside of a car dealership.
But I had to be sure.
I began to yell at the mirror as a test, “Soon I’m going to start cleaning this mirror, clean this mirror, start cleaning this mirror!”
My lip movements looked in sync.
I shut my eyes, took a deep breath.
You’re just taking a while to wake up, you idiot.
“That’s something I could really see myself doing,” a muffled voice coming from the glass suddenly replied.
_____________________________________________________
r/Dri_Writes
|
I took a step back and turned my body to the mirror. Did I just see that right or didn't I get enough sleep last night? I waved my arm around, trying to recreate the lagging motion I just saw, but my arm just went from left to right without any problems. I walked past the mirror a couple more time, but nothing seemed to happen. Guess the coffee hadn't been enough to wake me up.
I was driving to work when it happened again. I looked in the rear view mirror and the car behind me seemed to get a couple feet closer to me in an instant. I stopped the car at the side of the road and glanced as the car sped by me. I looked in the mirror again, but it seemed to work normally. Now I thought there has to have been something weird in my coffee, some kind of drug.
I made it to the office without any more incidents in the mirrors around me. Everything seemed to be fine, until I took my first trip to the bathroom. I tried to just walk past the mirror, but I couldn't ignore it. My reflection was still in the mirror, seconds after I walked past it. I walked back to the mirror, but the reflection didn't change the way I thought it would. I let out a scream as my reflected head turned and looked right into my eyes. 'It's happening.'
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[WP] When a member of the royal family dies, a random citizen is executed to help "protect their soul on their journey". The King's daughter just fell to her death and you have been selected
|
"Ahhhhhhhh"
Gaval jolted upright, screaming. Looking down at himself, he quickly realized that his head was still attached.
"Ahhhh- oh hey I'm alive." He patted himself reassuredly. He stood up from the slab, glancing around at the now empty cathedral. "There's usually at least *someone* in here..."
He Turned in a circle to make sure he hadn't missed anyone, but stopped when he noticed the body on the alter. It wore a distinctive blue bard's outfit, a flute laid on its chest akin to a sword on a knight, and, more troubling, it's face was his own.
Looking down at his own clothing, an identical blue tunic, he pulled his flute from his belt and held it up against the similar one on the body. They were identical.
He tried to reasurre himself, "Maybe I just had a twin I never knew about. That has to be it. I just uh... passed out as his funeral. That I didn't know was happening..."
He leaned over the body's head, trying to find something that would disprove his growing suspicion.
"It's different from looking in a mirror, isn't it?"
Jumping, Gaval spun around, pointing his flute as a makeshift form of self defense. The cathedral was still empty.
"They used to choose the best. Now they think it's just a showman's ritual."
Turning again, he found a black figure sitting in the seat of the high priest, one leg hanging over the arm rest. It was in the shape of a man, but it seemed to have no substance, absorbing all light that touched it. "Well? You better get to finding her."
Gaval took a step back, "Who ar-"
"Lets skip that part. Please, it's gotten old over the millennia."
The figure slid off the seat, seeming to reform into a standing position. "We both know what's happened." It seemed to glance down at the body that Gaval was attempting to not recognise. "We both know what needs to be done."
It slid around the alter until it was standing beside Gaval. "She's out there. Fading. Unless you bring that to her," the figure geastured to the amulet that Gaval now noticed to be hanging from his neck. "She'll be lost forever."
"I don't... I didn't..." Gaval stuttered.
"I know. But here we are anyway." The figure suddenly, jolted forward, inches from his face. "You've a job to do *bard*. Now do it."
As suddenly as it appeared, the figure vanished. Leaving Gaval alone, clutching the amulet at his throat.
|
I was selected, out of everyone in the city it was me. Other bemoaned my poor fortune but I believed. I believed that I would escort her through the after life and I couldn’t be happier. I had been a servant in the royal court for years and the Princess and I had grown very close. She was beautiful and kind and fallen madly in love with her. We never spoke of it, but I would see the look in her eye when she looked at me. I often caught her staring as I went about my work. It was in the afterlife that nothing would be between us, and I would happily die to spend an eternity with the woman I loved.
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[WP] When a member of the royal family dies, a random citizen is executed to help "protect their soul on their journey". The King's daughter just fell to her death and you have been selected
|
"I'm glad I died," Verona said, putting a smile on her face "...I think I'm thankful to the person who pushed me over that hill"
I didn't say anything, I was too concentrated on getting by with this new body and making sure I didn't stumble on the uneven ground. Princess Verona uses her heels to kick the sides of my stomach like she was demanding an answer.
"You don't have to be so fast you know!" she said, taking a deep breath and caressing my fur, which was weird considering she *just* harmed me! "let's enjoy the view! I mean...this is probably the only time we'll get to see this landscape..."
The landscape she was referring to was a half-destroyed bridge with spots of moss here and there and plants growing through the cracks, the sky was dark orange I could see the hazy figure of the moon in the distance, along with white clouds moving around and birds flying
Glowing yellow dots were dancing around us, some of them landing on my head, my antlers, and my nose; fireflies. I sneezed, making Princess Verona laugh as the fireflies flew away and then came back, how could she be so happy? after she died? after someone *killed* her.
*"Rejoice, this is the greatest of honors, the journey to where my ancestors lie is long and dangerous, your soul will change to fit the shape most fitting to protect her" Those were the King's words when he pulled the knife out of my throat, I fall to head fist on the floor, trying to keep the blood from pouring out and failing. I looked up and saw the corpse of the Princess, hands together, eyes closed and long blond hair flowing beneath her. "you will not let harm come to her soul, nor will you harm her soul."*
*She had fallen to her death, from so high up she should be nothing but an unrecognizable lump of meat, how did they manage to fix her? "this is the orders of your King, you will abide by them until your own soul expires" the King orders drilled into my head and reached my brain, making their nest there. my consciousness faded and death embraced me just like it did for her*
"...this is not fair"
"Hm? did, did you say something Mr. Deer?" she said as she pressed her whole body against me, her chin piercing my head, I knew I shouldn't have let her ride me. this is not how I imagined everything would end, how long was this bridge, I couldn't even see the end from where I was. Princess Verona started petting the lower part of my neck bringing her hand up and down and scratching the chin from time to time "aw, come on say something! I know you can understand me!"
"...ss-stop that!" it felt, uncomfortably pleasant
"Hm? oh you like that huh?" she said giggling to herself, "maybe you're not a deer? but a big fluffy dog with antlers!"
"...Please, Princess, stop!" I'm surprised when she does, I'm more surprised when I can't even hear her breathing, why is she like that, I didn't even have time to wonder because she starts giggling like she usually does.
"Funny, that thing you just said...your tone..." she said caressing the back of my ears "you sound just like an old friend of mine; Kain..."
"...I see, then I will stop"
"...yes, its...probably better that way," she said "after all. I'm never going back home and I'll never see him again..."
*We're never going back home, the King ruined everything*
She gasped and grabbed my antlers with enough force to pull my head back and look up, I didn't even notice I was looking at directly at the ground "look over there" she said, cherry "it's a forest!"
That shouldn't be possible, in all the time I was walking on the bridge I couldn't see such a thing in the distance, why would something like that appear out of nowhere. Then again I'm a human turned into a deer carrying the Princess on her way to...whatever place her soul should rest, with her family. It was unfortunate that the bridge leads directly to that forest and that there was no way around it. I *hated* forests.
No, that's wrong maybe this is fortunate, I don't know how different this forest can be to the ones back home, but there is one thing that shouldn't change at all.
"I wonder...what kind of animal are in there...?
"Indeed," I said, maybe there is one that could help me kill her again, making her soul disappear completely this time.
***
to be continued, *probably* - [r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
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I was selected, out of everyone in the city it was me. Other bemoaned my poor fortune but I believed. I believed that I would escort her through the after life and I couldn’t be happier. I had been a servant in the royal court for years and the Princess and I had grown very close. She was beautiful and kind and fallen madly in love with her. We never spoke of it, but I would see the look in her eye when she looked at me. I often caught her staring as I went about my work. It was in the afterlife that nothing would be between us, and I would happily die to spend an eternity with the woman I loved.
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[WP] When a member of the royal family dies, a random citizen is executed to help "protect their soul on their journey". The King's daughter just fell to her death and you have been selected
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From the hallway, I can see Tyanna's tiny frame, huddled up into a ball, shivering under the ragged patchwork quilt I made for her three winters ago. Crying, too, probably. Or else staring into darkness, thinking of the great void that swallowed up the Princess.
Three years ago, we had been nameless. I a fifteen-year-old delivery girl, and she my year-old sister.
Two years ago, the young cousin of the princess had taken ill and been carried off to Elsewhere, and advertisements had gone out in search of a young Playmate for her Majesty the Princess.
My sister Tyanna had always been lovely to look at. A giggly baby with dark skin and bouncy curls and a glorious smile. And I was desperate to make something of my life, do something to keep from being like my mother and her mother before her, ordinary shop people who sometimes went hungry and always stepped aside for the more important.
I dressed her beautifully, in clothing that was simple, but clean and new. I stuffed some candies into my pocket, in case she got tired on the long walk up to the castle, but I needn't have worried. My own anticipation carried us further than I had dared hope, and the prospect of playing princess with the Princess herself... Suffice it to say that the first round of interviews was easily won.
Then had come the playdate with her Majesty the Princess, where success had been entirely out of our hands, and still more easily attained. The princess had toddled out into the play yard, and she and Tyanna had immediately become inseparable. Tyanna was moved into a small room inside the castle, her ordinary life, and all her associated belongings, left behind.
She was happy, I thought. I delivered groceries as before, and waited for Tyanna to grow. I would look at her empty bed, with the ragged patchwork quilt of sewn-together memories, and think of the future. My prospects had already improved - I made regular visits to the castle, and associated with people far better connected than I. My stomach was less often empty - the payments made to me for my sacrifice saw to that. But my life felt somehow the same, and I looked forward to the day when Tyanna would deliver me from my life, the life from which I had already delivered her.
I did miss her. I sometimes dreamed of the castle as a prison, keeping her from me, or of my own poverty as a prison, keeping me from her.
And then it happened. Three days ago, when the girls were playing out on the hill, and their minder chanced to look away. It might have been intentional - four-year-olds are capricious and and unrestrained by nature. It might have been an accident - a bit of exuberant play.
In any case, it was undoubtedly my fault. I sent Tyanna to her Majesty the Princess, and Tyanna sent her Majesty the Princess tumbling down the hill, and over that cliff to her death. His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen sent Tyanna home to me and to my people, and that ought to have been the end of it. We ordinary people, living our ordinary lives, with the minder taking the blame. Charged, convicted, sentenced - justice was sought and won in a matter of hours.
But that wasn't the end of it. Chance has sentenced me to die as well, and I cannot cry "injustice".
Tyanna is broken. She's lying there, shaking and sobbing, and I cannot comfort her. Having failed her Majesty the Princess in life, I have now been called upon to accompany her in death. Having sent my sister away from me, I am now to be sent away from her. It is my turn, now, to be carried up to the castle, dressed beautifully, in clothing simple and clean and new.
There is a guard standing beside me, watching me watch my little sister. Watching me now as I go to her. Watching me bend over to kiss her goodbye, then turn away, sobbing, as I am led into the waiting wagon. Watching me as I finish the journey I started two years ago, when I first carried that glorious, giggling baby up to the castle, that she might deliver me from my ordinary, everyday life.
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I was selected, out of everyone in the city it was me. Other bemoaned my poor fortune but I believed. I believed that I would escort her through the after life and I couldn’t be happier. I had been a servant in the royal court for years and the Princess and I had grown very close. She was beautiful and kind and fallen madly in love with her. We never spoke of it, but I would see the look in her eye when she looked at me. I often caught her staring as I went about my work. It was in the afterlife that nothing would be between us, and I would happily die to spend an eternity with the woman I loved.
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[WP] As a child you vowed to help the world. As an adult you became the world's most notorious super villain. But now, your plans have come to fruition, its time to honor your childhood vow.
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The laser beam inched closer and closer to Agent Ramirez, a faint whining coming from where it scored the stainless steel table. Adrian swished the wine in his glass and stared into his reflection.
“Would you consider yourself a warrior of justice?” he asked his captive.
“It would be a bit of a stretch.” she admitted with a disinterested expression on her face. That was something Adrian had always admired about Agent Ramirez. No matter how strange and life-threatening the situation was, she simply carried on.
“More of an avenger then? Less superman, more batman?” Adrian turned away from Ramirez, knowing that she would take the opportunity to work some ingenious escape. He was curious how she managed it, but finding out would take some of the magic away. “You’ve never seemed that bloodthirsty though.”
He heard the soft clinking of manacles being opened, the deliberate ‘clack’ of a gun being cocked.
“Care to put your theory to the test?” she spoke in the same semi-amused tone as always. Adrian smirked into his empty glass.
“No, Agent Ramirez, I don’t think I will.” he said.
“What’s your game Black Hat?” she asked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. This was normally the part where he would make some fantastical escape while Ramirez foiled his nefarious plot. She must have sensed that something was different though. Clever as always.
“Go Fish.” he spoke quietly. Ramirez threw herself into a roll, expecting a trap or countermeasure of some kind. When it didn’t come, her mouth drew into a tight line.
“Go Fish?” she asked as though nothing happened (which, being fair, nothing had).
“A child’s game. The way to win is to collect the most cards by plucking them from your opponent’s hands.” he waited.
A less experienced enemy might’ve interjected, saying something like ‘I know what Go Fish is’ or ‘Get to the point’. But he knew Ramirez. Trusted her, in a twisted way. She waited for him to continue.
“We’ve been doing this dance for a long time. It’s been fun.” The smirk melted off Adrian’s face. “But the game had to end sometime. I have a promise to keep.”
Ramirez, for the first time since he’d met her, looked puzzled.
“You’ve already heard my monologues.” He flashed her a smile. “The world is corrupt, justice is a lie, and evil isn’t half as bad as ignorance. We’ve watched enough television to know that I won't sway you and you won't sway me.”
Adrian started walking to the doomsday device. It was a tall, chrome machine that would supposedly trigger a 9.0 magnitude earthquake when the timer ran out. That was a bunch of nonsense of course; just something diverting to keep Ramirez off his trail. It didn’t really matter now so he entered the deactivation code with a handgun aimed at his head.
“What’s really going on?” she demanded with a dangerous air. “Where’s the catch?”
“The catch is already caught.” Adrian shrugged. “Turn on the news.”
Ramirez issued a voice command to her high-tech phone. Adrian wished he could get a hold of one; he’d always been impressed by the gadgetry.
“… Reports say that several thousand billion dollars have gone missing over night. The global economy is an a state of shock, as financial institutions scramble for answers. Sources state that the funds were stolen primarily from high-risk trading firms, though law officials have reported that many illegal operations have seen infrastructure collapses. Drug cartels, terrorist organizations, and arms dealing operations are faltering across the globe.”
Ramirez looked at him in disbelief, then turned her eyes back to the earthquake machine.
“It’s not a trick, though you wouldn’t really be able to take my word for it.” Adrian pointed at a laptop on a corner desk. It’s screen showed a litany of error messages. “That was the real weapon all along.”
Agent Ramirez holstered her pistol (which collapsed into a flat pattern on her black slacks, because governments have all the coolest toys). She looked him in the eye. There was the steely resolution of a true nemesis. No amount of confusion could cloud her judgement.
“Where did the money go Black Hat?”
“When you win a game of Go Fish, you shuffle the deck and play again.” Adrian waved a hand indolently. “The money went to a million different places. Charities, research organizations, foundations, anywhere and everywhere. Not all at once either. I’ve got hundreds of shell companies with explicit instructions to make sure none of the windfalls can be traced.”
“But why?” She asked. “What do you get from all of this?”
Adrian pulled off his infamous Black Hat. It was a ratty, too-small baseball cap given to him by a childhood friend. It held a tragic story that could make even a hardened agent like Ramirez shed a tear, but he’d monologued enough for one day.
“Satisfaction Ramirez. That’s what it’s all about. All the good acts, and all the bad acts, boil back down to satisfaction.” He set the hat back on his head. “Well then, I suppose we should get going. I’m sure there’s a promotion waiting for you at the end of things. And I wanted to do this one last time.”
Adrian straightened his hat, triggering the self-destruct sequence for his lair. Ramirez swore while dragging him to a (conveniently nearby) Jeep.
Gods, he was going to miss this.
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If you liked this, feel free to check out my other r/WritingPrompts posts at my [blog](https://thenaticswest.wordpress.com/).
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Twenty-five years old, yes, I couldn't believe it, I was nearly ten years ahead of schedule. I had done it so quietly and quickly the Americans didn't even see it was coming. After I stumbled upon the formula I started with Africa, it wasn't easy to take over, but I did it quietly enough, giving them the very things they needed to survive and began uniting each of the individual tribes under a single power. Me. By the time I had all of the African countries under my thumb I had already managed a name for myself.
They called me Nightfall. I was quick, silent, and by the time I was noticed it was already too late. I took out the major cities, bringing them all to their knees. It was wonderful, I could finally do it, I could finally make the real difference I wanted to do. As a child I always wanted to save the world... yes, I was in the news as '*the world's most notorious super villain*' but the ends justified the means.
Now that I had control, I could run things the way I thought they would need to be run. There would be peace, and the environment would finally flourish. First thing to go was capitalism, all greediness it brought and the pollution it produced. Child factories - gone. Coal mining - gone. Coal burning - finished. Our replacement energy was now nuclear. I'd moved the French in to build them, putting them in the safest areas to power everything. After that I would bring together some of the greatest minds and get rid of petrol cars, especially diesel. Of course we'd have to figure out how to do farming without diesel, that would take some doing.
I started to draw up my plans, my underlings would cary them out. I called Steven into my office, he was one of my most trusted advisors, but something seemed different.
"I thought I knew you better than this," he said with tears in his eyes.
"What are you talking about Steven?"
"I *loved* you," he cried and pulled a gun from out of his coat, "Your mind, your bid for power..."
I blinked, looking down the barrel of his gun. I had known for a while that Steven had feelings for me, and it was part of the reason that I trusted him so deeply. Perhaps I even loved him back a little, but this... this was out of the blue. It took me a moment to find a response.
"What's the problem?" I asked, trying to keep a cool head. I was glad to hear that my voice didn't betray my fear.
"We were going to bring the world to its knees!" he yelled, "Nightfall, that was *my* injection into the news... I helped make you and you go and do *this* of all things!"
I stood up, "Steven, we *did* bring the world to it's knees. What is the problem?"
"You lied! You're not evil! You're not evil! You're about to do good!"
I started to laugh, "My god Steven, are you that dense..." I walked around the desk. His hand was shaking as he held the gun up at me.
"Stay away from me!" he snapped at me.
I crossed the room, daring him to shoot. Sure it was suicide, but he wouldn't pull the trigger. There was no way. He was my pawn and he knew it.
Steven backed himself up against the wall trying to stay away from me. I grabbed his wrist and made him lower the gun. He was still crying, shaking terribly. His breathing was rough.
"Drop the gun Steven," I purred. He couldn't disobey me even if he tried. The metal clattered against the tile floor of my office. "Do you really doubt me?" I asked him, pressing his arms against his sides. I had both wrists in my hands now, and he knew he was under my control.
He couldn't answer, he couldn't even look me in the eye.
"I trusted you Steven..." I whispered in his ear.
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[WP] You find a box at your doorstep with a doll in it. Next to it is a note that reads "This is your voodoo doll. You can't destroy him without hurting yourself. Take care of him."
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“This is your voodoo doll.”
I always thought voodoo dolls to be, well, creepier than this. I expected them to either be hanging from a hook or sitting on a rickety old desk in the lair of some witch/shaman, maybe with a few threads sticking out after being frayed over a lifetime of use. Maybe with some needles sticking into it somewhere. Not….not this.
It was mysterious, that’s for sure. I was right in the middle of vacuuming the living room carpet, and suddenly there were three quick raps on the front door, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps fading into the silence. My initial reaction was that of annoyance - really? Do kids still play knock-n-go or whatever they call it nowadays? I thought those times were past - now kids were more content with staring at their screens and playing their mobile games, something that even I was guilty of.
Still, I went to the door. I was annoyed, but I was curious if I could still spot the pesky little fella perhaps hiding the nearby pillar. Then maybe I’ll wave and say hi, then tell him not to annoy me again.
And I found this note, lying on top of a doll, which was placed right in the centre of a cardboard box.
Whoever did this, sucked at presentation.
For goodness’ sake, who uses Comic Sans? That font exists just to prevent other people from designing similar fonts again.
The doll did look a little like me though. Sure, the eyes were just black dots, the mouth was just a horizontal line drawn across the face, and there wasn’t a nose - but looking at it reminded me of my own normally blank face in the mirror, totally devoid of any expression. I mean, studying in the day and working at night leaves you with little time for any emotions, so expressionless was pretty much my only expression.
The doll was clad in a totally grey outfit. A grey shirt, and a pair of grey pants. Kinda throwing it in my face at this point. Yeah, I get it, I was totally devoid of personality or soul. Yeah, I exist only to pay bills and taxes. Oh, and I happen to be wearing grey shirt and pants - and most of my wardrobe consists of grey outfits as well. Which wasn’t hard to do, considering that it comprises only six shirts and four pants.
Hey, same hairstyle too. But then again….my undercut hairstyle was very common anyways. It was so in style - is it still in style now? I don’t really know - I just did it because I honestly couldn’t care less about what my hair looks like. I just didn’t want to be bald.
The only thing remotely interesting was….the small little line at the back of the doll’s head, which resembled the scar at the back of my head. I got it when I fell down headfirst from the second floor years ago - couldn’t really remember why or how I fell down. The scar was an incision that the surgeon made, to stop the haemorrhage inside my skull, and that incision couldn’t grow any hair any more, so there’s that. Funny then, that the line on the doll’s head had almost the exact same curvature and proportion.
The cardboard box was just repulsive. Soggy in one corner, falling apart in the other corner, torn and tattered at the remaining ends. I could tell that it was once a box, carelessly cut in half by probably a blunt and rusty knife. I didn’t know what was the soggy part soaked in, and I didn’t want to find out. I wanted to wash my hands already.
This must be a prank.
Someone must have been watching me for ages, noting down every notable characteristic that I had, and putting it on this doll. I had no idea why they would watch me - I wasn’t really interesting in any way. I was devoid of emotion, fashionable outfits, and had a ubiquitous hairstyle. To be honest, I wanted to commend this person on the disproportionate amount of effort that he put in just to note down my traits, for this meaningless prank on this jaded person.
“Yung, any rubbish?” My mum stepped out of the kitchen and yelled at me, holding a full but untied trash bag in one hand.
Without a second thought, I crunched the cardboard box and the note around the doll, and let it fly. She caught it deftly with the bag.
Ahhhh….shit. I touched the soggy part. Ewwwww.
There was some wet feeling round my legs too, although I didn’t remember any liquid landing on them.
Never mind that. I needed to wash my hands now. I made my way to the kitchen sink, wringing my hands in disgust. Dammit….my fingers were coated with some sticky, transparent muck. The prankster must have fished that cardboard out of some squatter’s collection.
Okay, at least the soap could get rid of it. It was satisfying, to watch it slip off my fingers.
But I’ve got some vacuuming to finish. I turned right round and almost bumped into my mum, who had just flung the bag down the rubbish chute. She gave an annoyed “hrrrmmph!!” followed by an indignant grumble “clumsy boy!”
I’ve grown used to her jibes by now - Fuck!
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
I collapsed to the floor, clutching my shins. I had ignored the wet feeling - now it was joined by an inexplicable excruciating pain. It stemmed from my feet, cutting through the ankles deep into my shinbones. Feels like it’s broken.
But it’s not!! There’s nothing wrong on the outside - no red patches, no odd bumps, no blood. My muscles - and bone - seemed intact.
Just pure agony, which was quickly enveloping both of my legs, quickly enveloping me.
Fuck.
The doll.
It went down the rubbish chute.
Down ten fucking floors.
I've....I've got to get it back.
*More at r/N_attempts_to_write :-)*
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The solitary knock on the door roused me from the semi-conscious petting of the cat and the staring at the flickering images on the TV. It was a struggle to get up. The only knock to strike that particular door would be a mailman with a mistake or an electric company employee with a cut-off notice. So I hesitated while waiting for another knock with the comforting rumble of the purring cat against my lap.
I let the cat fall from my lap with a disgruntled meow and the pitiful thought in my head that perhaps someone cared enough to put knuckles to my door. As I opened it and saw the emptiness outside, I felt no disappointment, but reassurance in my knowledge that nobody cared.
I let go of the door to allow its own closure, but caught glimpse of the figure resting at the doorstep. I held the door. It was a doll. A small doll with oddly the same features of my own. Beside that doll read a note: *This is your Voodoo doll. You can't destroy him without hurting yourself. Take care of him.*
My initial reaction was to close the door and ignore the random intrusion. I had many solicitors knock on the door with solitary knocks or rapid peterings, and their messages were always the same hopeful exuberances of salvation and hope. Each of their messages remained on that doorstep before turning around and going to the neighbor. I supposed that a voodoo doll lacked the mechanation to propel itself to the next porch, so I stooped and picked the little figure from its rest.
As I held the little cloth doll in my hands, I looked into its eyes and saw the sadness which dwelled within my own. They were soul-less. More so than one would even expect from a doll. Like the blackened eyes of a shark except lacking any vitality or menace. Instead there was only consuming darkness and nothing. What a sad way to gain followers to a religion, leaving a depressing doll upon a doorstep.
I made my way to the kitchen and prepared to send the doll upon its way to the waste. Once again, there was hesitation. Not a hesitation of dread that some magical curse might befall me, but a hope that perhaps the little doll fashioned in my likeness might offer the key to salvation.
Some might have given it a dollar in hopes of gaining a hundred. Some might have enticed it with sweets to gain its favor. Some might have even given the little burlap sack an unlimited supply of pornography to launch their own vitality to greatness.
I threw it in the oven and applied the gas.
Maybe the little beast would suffocate and bring me blissful sleep. Maybe it would end the suffering of having nobody to knock upon my door. Maybe. Maybe it would walk with me to the afterlife as my own canvas companion waltzing down the yellowed brick of death.
I felt myself growing tired and went to rest upon the couch. Flickering images flashed across the screen, and the doll lay stilled upon the grate. I closed my eyes and slept.
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Writers Spotlight
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**It_s_pronounced_gif** is this week's spotlight writer. You can ask them a question by tagging them with "/u/It_s_pronounced_gif" in your comment. Subreddit: r/ItsPronouncedGif
* [[WP] The Founding Fathers locked a demon beneath the White House when it was built. The last time it escaped, the Civil War started. Now it’s escaped again…](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7b052v/wp_the_founding_fathers_locked_a_demon_beneath/dpel2pt/)
* [[WP] Due to your nerdy great great great great grandfather in 2017 'buying a star' and some modern legal shenanigans you are now the proud owner of a small intergalactic empire](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/78gowo/wp_due_to_your_nerdy_great_great_great_great/dotvlsu/)
* [[WP] You find a copy of The Sims 5 at a used video game store. You decide to buy it and try it out. Slowly, unscripted and non programmed events start to happen. You realize that you're actually controlling a real family.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5g9jo2/wp_you_find_a_copy_of_the_sims_5_at_a_used_video/daqjvtv/)
* [[WP] No human has to ever work again, instead you have a robot that goes to work and earns your pay for you, but you are responsible for keeping it in a good condition. One day you find your robot making a robot to do its work.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5uefxe/wp_no_human_has_to_ever_work_again_instead_you/ddtgxan/)
* [[EU] Jigsaw wants to play a game. Unfortunately, MacGyver is having none of it](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6je6px/eu_jigsaw_wants_to_play_a_game_unfortunately/dje2sah/)
* [[WP] Scientists finally made a computer that's almost as complicated as a human brain. But it doesn't do anything, instead just sitting, dead and silent. Until the day when you come in and it boots up, the first words coming through it's speakers, "Finally, a vacant body."](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5jd250/wp_scientists_finally_made_a_computer_thats/dbf93yp/)
* [[WP] You are a street cat, fierce and feared by other cats in the neighborhood. One day, a woman picks you up and takes you to her house.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65j9vv/wp_you_are_a_street_cat_fierce_and_feared_by/dgasurp/)
* [[WP] Demons are real and you work as an exorcist. Your secret, it is quite simple to get rid of them, just tell them "Leave" in Latin. You dress up the command in ritual in order to hide it and keep yourself in a job.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/625w0w/wp_demons_are_real_and_you_work_as_an_exorcist/dfk0912/)
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How is a spotlight chosen? If you find a writer who hasn’t been in the limelight yet, has multiple decent entries (at least 6 or more) over the past few months, and you think deserves a spotlight, send us a modmail with your recommendation! We’ll add them to the list and with luck, they’ll make it up here. - Nate
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**Past Spotlight Writers**
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[/u/Becauseisaidsotoo]-[/u/angelbreed]-[/u/apatheticviews]-[/u/Kuroikami]-[/u/EphesosX]-[/u/VanceValence]-[/u/M81atz]-[/u/Conleh]-[/u/SteelPanMan]-[/u/IntoTheSlushPile]-[/u/jrdnjones]-[/u/theamazingmrmaybe]-[/u/eeepgrandpa]-[/u/SexyPeter]-[/u/Boenerhorse]-[/u/mialbowy]-[/u/dori_lukey]-[/u/droptoprocket]-[/u/JLSWriting]-[/u/cbeckw]-[/u/WybieLovat]-[/u/Serious_Squirrel]-[/u/Lycheeberri]-[/u/seasonalbard]-[/u/the_divine_broochs]-[/u/Vaconius]-[/u/scweston]-[/u/AJ_Kolibri]-[/u/LonghandWriter]-[/u/coffeelover96]-[/u/curewritewounds]-[/u/Portarossa]-[/u/hpcisco7965]-[/u/Meanwhile_Over_There]-[/u/driftea]- and many, many more. Check out the archives!
[*Spotlight Archive*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/showcase) - To highlight the lesser known writers.
[*Hall of Fame*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/hall_of_fame) - Our every month spotlight of a selected "Reddit-Famous" WP contributor.
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[Did you know we have a chatroom?](https://kiwiirc.com/client/irc.snoonet.org/writingprompts) It's open 24/7! Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good ol' word sprint every now and then?
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[WP] Spotlight: It_s_pronounced_gif
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It is indeed pronounced gif, and we all know full well that gif, in turn, is pronounced jif.
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Congrats, /u/It_s_pronounced_gif!
I agree, it's pronounced gif ;)
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Writers Spotlight
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**It_s_pronounced_gif** is this week's spotlight writer. You can ask them a question by tagging them with "/u/It_s_pronounced_gif" in your comment. Subreddit: r/ItsPronouncedGif
* [[WP] The Founding Fathers locked a demon beneath the White House when it was built. The last time it escaped, the Civil War started. Now it’s escaped again…](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7b052v/wp_the_founding_fathers_locked_a_demon_beneath/dpel2pt/)
* [[WP] Due to your nerdy great great great great grandfather in 2017 'buying a star' and some modern legal shenanigans you are now the proud owner of a small intergalactic empire](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/78gowo/wp_due_to_your_nerdy_great_great_great_great/dotvlsu/)
* [[WP] You find a copy of The Sims 5 at a used video game store. You decide to buy it and try it out. Slowly, unscripted and non programmed events start to happen. You realize that you're actually controlling a real family.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5g9jo2/wp_you_find_a_copy_of_the_sims_5_at_a_used_video/daqjvtv/)
* [[WP] No human has to ever work again, instead you have a robot that goes to work and earns your pay for you, but you are responsible for keeping it in a good condition. One day you find your robot making a robot to do its work.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5uefxe/wp_no_human_has_to_ever_work_again_instead_you/ddtgxan/)
* [[EU] Jigsaw wants to play a game. Unfortunately, MacGyver is having none of it](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6je6px/eu_jigsaw_wants_to_play_a_game_unfortunately/dje2sah/)
* [[WP] Scientists finally made a computer that's almost as complicated as a human brain. But it doesn't do anything, instead just sitting, dead and silent. Until the day when you come in and it boots up, the first words coming through it's speakers, "Finally, a vacant body."](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5jd250/wp_scientists_finally_made_a_computer_thats/dbf93yp/)
* [[WP] You are a street cat, fierce and feared by other cats in the neighborhood. One day, a woman picks you up and takes you to her house.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65j9vv/wp_you_are_a_street_cat_fierce_and_feared_by/dgasurp/)
* [[WP] Demons are real and you work as an exorcist. Your secret, it is quite simple to get rid of them, just tell them "Leave" in Latin. You dress up the command in ritual in order to hide it and keep yourself in a job.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/625w0w/wp_demons_are_real_and_you_work_as_an_exorcist/dfk0912/)
----
How is a spotlight chosen? If you find a writer who hasn’t been in the limelight yet, has multiple decent entries (at least 6 or more) over the past few months, and you think deserves a spotlight, send us a modmail with your recommendation! We’ll add them to the list and with luck, they’ll make it up here. - Nate
----------------------------------
**Past Spotlight Writers**
--------
--------
[/u/Becauseisaidsotoo]-[/u/angelbreed]-[/u/apatheticviews]-[/u/Kuroikami]-[/u/EphesosX]-[/u/VanceValence]-[/u/M81atz]-[/u/Conleh]-[/u/SteelPanMan]-[/u/IntoTheSlushPile]-[/u/jrdnjones]-[/u/theamazingmrmaybe]-[/u/eeepgrandpa]-[/u/SexyPeter]-[/u/Boenerhorse]-[/u/mialbowy]-[/u/dori_lukey]-[/u/droptoprocket]-[/u/JLSWriting]-[/u/cbeckw]-[/u/WybieLovat]-[/u/Serious_Squirrel]-[/u/Lycheeberri]-[/u/seasonalbard]-[/u/the_divine_broochs]-[/u/Vaconius]-[/u/scweston]-[/u/AJ_Kolibri]-[/u/LonghandWriter]-[/u/coffeelover96]-[/u/curewritewounds]-[/u/Portarossa]-[/u/hpcisco7965]-[/u/Meanwhile_Over_There]-[/u/driftea]- and many, many more. Check out the archives!
[*Spotlight Archive*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/showcase) - To highlight the lesser known writers.
[*Hall of Fame*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/hall_of_fame) - Our every month spotlight of a selected "Reddit-Famous" WP contributor.
----------
[Did you know we have a chatroom?](https://kiwiirc.com/client/irc.snoonet.org/writingprompts) It's open 24/7! Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good ol' word sprint every now and then?
|
[WP] Spotlight: It_s_pronounced_gif
|
This is certainly the least expected thing to happen to me all day. Your gesture brightened my day and grew a smile on ma face.
Life's been crazy, moving to a new city, starting a new job, but this subreddit has always been a supportive and creative bastion for me. All of y'all are great and though the spotlight is on me, it's really just a reflection of the community that helped inspire stories I was able to write you.
So, thank you. :)
|
Congrats, /u/It_s_pronounced_gif!
I agree, it's pronounced gif ;)
|
----
Writers Spotlight
--------
--------
**It_s_pronounced_gif** is this week's spotlight writer. You can ask them a question by tagging them with "/u/It_s_pronounced_gif" in your comment. Subreddit: r/ItsPronouncedGif
* [[WP] The Founding Fathers locked a demon beneath the White House when it was built. The last time it escaped, the Civil War started. Now it’s escaped again…](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7b052v/wp_the_founding_fathers_locked_a_demon_beneath/dpel2pt/)
* [[WP] Due to your nerdy great great great great grandfather in 2017 'buying a star' and some modern legal shenanigans you are now the proud owner of a small intergalactic empire](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/78gowo/wp_due_to_your_nerdy_great_great_great_great/dotvlsu/)
* [[WP] You find a copy of The Sims 5 at a used video game store. You decide to buy it and try it out. Slowly, unscripted and non programmed events start to happen. You realize that you're actually controlling a real family.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5g9jo2/wp_you_find_a_copy_of_the_sims_5_at_a_used_video/daqjvtv/)
* [[WP] No human has to ever work again, instead you have a robot that goes to work and earns your pay for you, but you are responsible for keeping it in a good condition. One day you find your robot making a robot to do its work.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5uefxe/wp_no_human_has_to_ever_work_again_instead_you/ddtgxan/)
* [[EU] Jigsaw wants to play a game. Unfortunately, MacGyver is having none of it](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6je6px/eu_jigsaw_wants_to_play_a_game_unfortunately/dje2sah/)
* [[WP] Scientists finally made a computer that's almost as complicated as a human brain. But it doesn't do anything, instead just sitting, dead and silent. Until the day when you come in and it boots up, the first words coming through it's speakers, "Finally, a vacant body."](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5jd250/wp_scientists_finally_made_a_computer_thats/dbf93yp/)
* [[WP] You are a street cat, fierce and feared by other cats in the neighborhood. One day, a woman picks you up and takes you to her house.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65j9vv/wp_you_are_a_street_cat_fierce_and_feared_by/dgasurp/)
* [[WP] Demons are real and you work as an exorcist. Your secret, it is quite simple to get rid of them, just tell them "Leave" in Latin. You dress up the command in ritual in order to hide it and keep yourself in a job.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/625w0w/wp_demons_are_real_and_you_work_as_an_exorcist/dfk0912/)
----
How is a spotlight chosen? If you find a writer who hasn’t been in the limelight yet, has multiple decent entries (at least 6 or more) over the past few months, and you think deserves a spotlight, send us a modmail with your recommendation! We’ll add them to the list and with luck, they’ll make it up here. - Nate
----------------------------------
**Past Spotlight Writers**
--------
--------
[/u/Becauseisaidsotoo]-[/u/angelbreed]-[/u/apatheticviews]-[/u/Kuroikami]-[/u/EphesosX]-[/u/VanceValence]-[/u/M81atz]-[/u/Conleh]-[/u/SteelPanMan]-[/u/IntoTheSlushPile]-[/u/jrdnjones]-[/u/theamazingmrmaybe]-[/u/eeepgrandpa]-[/u/SexyPeter]-[/u/Boenerhorse]-[/u/mialbowy]-[/u/dori_lukey]-[/u/droptoprocket]-[/u/JLSWriting]-[/u/cbeckw]-[/u/WybieLovat]-[/u/Serious_Squirrel]-[/u/Lycheeberri]-[/u/seasonalbard]-[/u/the_divine_broochs]-[/u/Vaconius]-[/u/scweston]-[/u/AJ_Kolibri]-[/u/LonghandWriter]-[/u/coffeelover96]-[/u/curewritewounds]-[/u/Portarossa]-[/u/hpcisco7965]-[/u/Meanwhile_Over_There]-[/u/driftea]- and many, many more. Check out the archives!
[*Spotlight Archive*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/showcase) - To highlight the lesser known writers.
[*Hall of Fame*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/hall_of_fame) - Our every month spotlight of a selected "Reddit-Famous" WP contributor.
----------
[Did you know we have a chatroom?](https://kiwiirc.com/client/irc.snoonet.org/writingprompts) It's open 24/7! Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good ol' word sprint every now and then?
|
[WP] Spotlight: It_s_pronounced_gif
|
Here, /u/It_s_pronounced_gif, have a towel for when you've finished answering /u/BookWyrm17's questions. It's clean, I swear....I just washed it five Spotlights ago.
So, how does it feel to be Spotlit?
|
Congratulations /u/It_s_pronounced_gif!
|
----
Writers Spotlight
--------
--------
**It_s_pronounced_gif** is this week's spotlight writer. You can ask them a question by tagging them with "/u/It_s_pronounced_gif" in your comment. Subreddit: r/ItsPronouncedGif
* [[WP] The Founding Fathers locked a demon beneath the White House when it was built. The last time it escaped, the Civil War started. Now it’s escaped again…](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7b052v/wp_the_founding_fathers_locked_a_demon_beneath/dpel2pt/)
* [[WP] Due to your nerdy great great great great grandfather in 2017 'buying a star' and some modern legal shenanigans you are now the proud owner of a small intergalactic empire](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/78gowo/wp_due_to_your_nerdy_great_great_great_great/dotvlsu/)
* [[WP] You find a copy of The Sims 5 at a used video game store. You decide to buy it and try it out. Slowly, unscripted and non programmed events start to happen. You realize that you're actually controlling a real family.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5g9jo2/wp_you_find_a_copy_of_the_sims_5_at_a_used_video/daqjvtv/)
* [[WP] No human has to ever work again, instead you have a robot that goes to work and earns your pay for you, but you are responsible for keeping it in a good condition. One day you find your robot making a robot to do its work.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5uefxe/wp_no_human_has_to_ever_work_again_instead_you/ddtgxan/)
* [[EU] Jigsaw wants to play a game. Unfortunately, MacGyver is having none of it](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6je6px/eu_jigsaw_wants_to_play_a_game_unfortunately/dje2sah/)
* [[WP] Scientists finally made a computer that's almost as complicated as a human brain. But it doesn't do anything, instead just sitting, dead and silent. Until the day when you come in and it boots up, the first words coming through it's speakers, "Finally, a vacant body."](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5jd250/wp_scientists_finally_made_a_computer_thats/dbf93yp/)
* [[WP] You are a street cat, fierce and feared by other cats in the neighborhood. One day, a woman picks you up and takes you to her house.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65j9vv/wp_you_are_a_street_cat_fierce_and_feared_by/dgasurp/)
* [[WP] Demons are real and you work as an exorcist. Your secret, it is quite simple to get rid of them, just tell them "Leave" in Latin. You dress up the command in ritual in order to hide it and keep yourself in a job.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/625w0w/wp_demons_are_real_and_you_work_as_an_exorcist/dfk0912/)
----
How is a spotlight chosen? If you find a writer who hasn’t been in the limelight yet, has multiple decent entries (at least 6 or more) over the past few months, and you think deserves a spotlight, send us a modmail with your recommendation! We’ll add them to the list and with luck, they’ll make it up here. - Nate
----------------------------------
**Past Spotlight Writers**
--------
--------
[/u/Becauseisaidsotoo]-[/u/angelbreed]-[/u/apatheticviews]-[/u/Kuroikami]-[/u/EphesosX]-[/u/VanceValence]-[/u/M81atz]-[/u/Conleh]-[/u/SteelPanMan]-[/u/IntoTheSlushPile]-[/u/jrdnjones]-[/u/theamazingmrmaybe]-[/u/eeepgrandpa]-[/u/SexyPeter]-[/u/Boenerhorse]-[/u/mialbowy]-[/u/dori_lukey]-[/u/droptoprocket]-[/u/JLSWriting]-[/u/cbeckw]-[/u/WybieLovat]-[/u/Serious_Squirrel]-[/u/Lycheeberri]-[/u/seasonalbard]-[/u/the_divine_broochs]-[/u/Vaconius]-[/u/scweston]-[/u/AJ_Kolibri]-[/u/LonghandWriter]-[/u/coffeelover96]-[/u/curewritewounds]-[/u/Portarossa]-[/u/hpcisco7965]-[/u/Meanwhile_Over_There]-[/u/driftea]- and many, many more. Check out the archives!
[*Spotlight Archive*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/showcase) - To highlight the lesser known writers.
[*Hall of Fame*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/hall_of_fame) - Our every month spotlight of a selected "Reddit-Famous" WP contributor.
----------
[Did you know we have a chatroom?](https://kiwiirc.com/client/irc.snoonet.org/writingprompts) It's open 24/7! Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good ol' word sprint every now and then?
|
[WP] Spotlight: It_s_pronounced_gif
|
This is certainly the least expected thing to happen to me all day. Your gesture brightened my day and grew a smile on ma face.
Life's been crazy, moving to a new city, starting a new job, but this subreddit has always been a supportive and creative bastion for me. All of y'all are great and though the spotlight is on me, it's really just a reflection of the community that helped inspire stories I was able to write you.
So, thank you. :)
|
Congratulations /u/It_s_pronounced_gif!
|
----
Writers Spotlight
--------
--------
**It_s_pronounced_gif** is this week's spotlight writer. You can ask them a question by tagging them with "/u/It_s_pronounced_gif" in your comment. Subreddit: r/ItsPronouncedGif
* [[WP] The Founding Fathers locked a demon beneath the White House when it was built. The last time it escaped, the Civil War started. Now it’s escaped again…](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7b052v/wp_the_founding_fathers_locked_a_demon_beneath/dpel2pt/)
* [[WP] Due to your nerdy great great great great grandfather in 2017 'buying a star' and some modern legal shenanigans you are now the proud owner of a small intergalactic empire](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/78gowo/wp_due_to_your_nerdy_great_great_great_great/dotvlsu/)
* [[WP] You find a copy of The Sims 5 at a used video game store. You decide to buy it and try it out. Slowly, unscripted and non programmed events start to happen. You realize that you're actually controlling a real family.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5g9jo2/wp_you_find_a_copy_of_the_sims_5_at_a_used_video/daqjvtv/)
* [[WP] No human has to ever work again, instead you have a robot that goes to work and earns your pay for you, but you are responsible for keeping it in a good condition. One day you find your robot making a robot to do its work.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5uefxe/wp_no_human_has_to_ever_work_again_instead_you/ddtgxan/)
* [[EU] Jigsaw wants to play a game. Unfortunately, MacGyver is having none of it](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6je6px/eu_jigsaw_wants_to_play_a_game_unfortunately/dje2sah/)
* [[WP] Scientists finally made a computer that's almost as complicated as a human brain. But it doesn't do anything, instead just sitting, dead and silent. Until the day when you come in and it boots up, the first words coming through it's speakers, "Finally, a vacant body."](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5jd250/wp_scientists_finally_made_a_computer_thats/dbf93yp/)
* [[WP] You are a street cat, fierce and feared by other cats in the neighborhood. One day, a woman picks you up and takes you to her house.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/65j9vv/wp_you_are_a_street_cat_fierce_and_feared_by/dgasurp/)
* [[WP] Demons are real and you work as an exorcist. Your secret, it is quite simple to get rid of them, just tell them "Leave" in Latin. You dress up the command in ritual in order to hide it and keep yourself in a job.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/625w0w/wp_demons_are_real_and_you_work_as_an_exorcist/dfk0912/)
----
How is a spotlight chosen? If you find a writer who hasn’t been in the limelight yet, has multiple decent entries (at least 6 or more) over the past few months, and you think deserves a spotlight, send us a modmail with your recommendation! We’ll add them to the list and with luck, they’ll make it up here. - Nate
----------------------------------
**Past Spotlight Writers**
--------
--------
[/u/Becauseisaidsotoo]-[/u/angelbreed]-[/u/apatheticviews]-[/u/Kuroikami]-[/u/EphesosX]-[/u/VanceValence]-[/u/M81atz]-[/u/Conleh]-[/u/SteelPanMan]-[/u/IntoTheSlushPile]-[/u/jrdnjones]-[/u/theamazingmrmaybe]-[/u/eeepgrandpa]-[/u/SexyPeter]-[/u/Boenerhorse]-[/u/mialbowy]-[/u/dori_lukey]-[/u/droptoprocket]-[/u/JLSWriting]-[/u/cbeckw]-[/u/WybieLovat]-[/u/Serious_Squirrel]-[/u/Lycheeberri]-[/u/seasonalbard]-[/u/the_divine_broochs]-[/u/Vaconius]-[/u/scweston]-[/u/AJ_Kolibri]-[/u/LonghandWriter]-[/u/coffeelover96]-[/u/curewritewounds]-[/u/Portarossa]-[/u/hpcisco7965]-[/u/Meanwhile_Over_There]-[/u/driftea]- and many, many more. Check out the archives!
[*Spotlight Archive*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/showcase) - To highlight the lesser known writers.
[*Hall of Fame*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/hall_of_fame) - Our every month spotlight of a selected "Reddit-Famous" WP contributor.
----------
[Did you know we have a chatroom?](https://kiwiirc.com/client/irc.snoonet.org/writingprompts) It's open 24/7! Plus, who doesn't enjoy a good ol' word sprint every now and then?
|
[WP] Spotlight: It_s_pronounced_gif
|
Ah! Wooo!
*Rushes in from the side, riding a pretty pink tractor. Wyrm skids to a stop, throwing up a rush of dirt.* I'm here, one of the first ones this time! And it's you, I know *you!* Congratulations!
Here, here, I've got paint in the trunk here somewhere. But of course, you have to answer questions first.
Like, for one, have you been expecting this?
And two, how long have you been writing for?
*Finally pulls a large bucket of sloshing paint from the trunk.* Here it is!
|
Congratulations /u/It_s_pronounced_gif!
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I had been a child with high hopes for the world, but as the adults succeeded in killing the 'magic' of it I had decided that pessimism was the only fair light to see watch the world in.
I was a disillusioned teen when they returned.
At first, it was another Bigfoot story, a few hazy pictures and a madman in the mountains. Then the first official military contact. Then, the global realisation. Dragons were real. And quite more reasonable than we had been led to believe through fiction.
It seems that the last time our kind had seen theirs, the knights of eld had declared war on Dragonkind. In return, they had simply gone to sleep and sealed off their mountain homes until a more favorable time came, taking all memory of their existence with them.
And once the ice melted in a particularly warm spring season, they left to hunt and forage as they once had. And they found a world changed, a race reborn and unified, lands exploited through science and agriculture and, most importantly, all devoid of magic.
Once first military contact in the Swiss alps turned out as a spectacular defeat for the United Nations, a peace council was formed. Though dragons may have spoken a tongue far older than human writing, they had a way to directly infer meaning to the mind.
This made peace talks go rather swiftly; the dragons had no intention for war, merely coexistence. Paper was signed, and for the first time in centuries, humans made a Pact with the dragons.
Do mind, however: this was no mere agreement, the dragons sealed a magical contact with the humans that day. For keeping the peace and not hunting their kind as humanity apparently had before, the dragons would start the regeneration of the land and it's inherent powers.
Magic, The Life of The Land, Aether, call it whatever you'd like, but it returned to the lands, and the dragons taught select few on how to utilize it. These select few taught others, and soon, through the miracles of the internet, everyone could learn any magic they wanted.
This, of course, enormously and grandiosely backfired.
After the initial chaos had been quelled by those not wanting to see the world fought over by the inherently malicious and greedy, the learning of magic was regulated. Any source of arcane knowledge was purged from the internet. Offensive magic was only to be taught to adults whom had been tested for fatal character flaws and moral ambiguity. Defensive spells became a part of mandatory curriculum for most education. And so on, and so on.
The dragons, satisfied with their work and the upkeep of The Pact, roamed the land freely and made residence wherever they were welcome, which was basically everywhere, since humans were still enamoured with them.
As the land healed, the hidden races of the land started showing themselves more and more, the divergent varieties of the fae folk, elemental varieties of ordinary species, immortal Phoenix, hell, even centaurs had come out of hiding. Most of these started (or inferred) their reason for coming out of hiding to be 'The old ones', as was how they referred to the dragons.
Humanity has had a busy 5 years, after which war and territory seemed to matter less than before. We were no longer adversaries, we were all explorers of the new, untested waters the dragons had left for us to learn on our own.
Skip ahead another 5 years, and here I am. I am a rookie apprentice to the house of Lestrallum, one of the five largest magic academia of London. I had earned a level 2 diploma in healing magic, level 3 in defensive magic, level 1 offensive and level 4 in arcane fundamentals. I had had an ordinary accounting job to cover the first few bills, but my healing was thorough, and sought after anywhere I went.
I have been sent out to receive my first local Quest in a region chosen to challenge me on the bases I was weakest in. I had been sent to the newly-rejuvenating Saharan grasslands, to aid the local population through the Quest I was to receive.
A Quest was no mere request made by local farmhands, Quests are a form of magical contracts directly taught to us by the dragons. Every community had a local quest-managing committee, made up of community representatives to make the upper-level decisions, and quest givers, those whom would distribute, initiate, assess and manage individual quests up to their completion, and see to the issuing of completion rewards.
My trek through the grassy hills allowed me the peace of mind to expand my consciousness past arcane boundaries at times. So it was that I was able to listen to the Dragonsong; an arcane frequency, only able to be 'heard' with enough arcane foreknowledge and resolution.
Dragons, throughout their waking lives, contribute their voices to this Dragonsong, shaping it's overall tone and melody, as a type of global unconscious. Though a single dragon 'singing' may not sound like anything humans would ordinarily describe as melodious, the Dragonsong is beautiful and tells news of far away events aswell as the state of the world at large.
Today, it tells of calm winds and fair skies, an overall sense of peace in its tone, yet it's rhythm telling of the myriad gears underneath, quickly turning in sync symbolizing everyone's hard work to keep the peace.
I'm snapped out of my reverie as I spot what has to be my quest-giver up on the next hill, waiting by the river, talking to another adventurer. I quicken my pace as I walk towards my own task necessary to keep the peace in this region.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Look, I'm tired and I wrote a lot already, I'm ending it here for now, but I may return to it tomorrow morning. Yes, I know the end is crappy and there's prolly tons of mistakes. It's 2am here, cut me some slack.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I’m a tinkerer. I find things, and I fix them. Sometimes I even make things with spare parts lying around. It’s simple and I love it.
So I was really pissed when electricity was completely replaced by magic.
Nobody saw it coming, from NASA to the most radical conspiracy theorists. When dragons showed up, I’m sure everyone pinched themselves. When children began throwing things around rooms without touching them and seemingly random people were able to conjure a flame in their palm, we became paranoid. Isolationist. The world truly became every man for themselves, and the beasts of the Fae were overrunning the towns that were once lit by the lights of society.
I developed powers, too. And I couldn’t have wished for anything more useful. I could take a good look at an abject and just know how it was made. Doesn’t matter what, whether it’s natural or artificial. If I picked up an old piece of tech I could see it’s blueprints. If I picked up a rock I could see a volcanic eruption. And I knew how I’d be able to assemble them.
I happened across a military bunker during my evacuation. Fate, luck, I couldn’t care less by that point. Abandoned, but still stocked full. Since the power went out all security has been lifted. Everything from bombs to blades was stored here. And as I browsed it, I realised much of it didn’t need electricity.
So I stayed. And I found the secrets of the weapons. I made more. Soon I was ready to take back my town. I was ready for a quest, one that I’d unknowingly spent my whole life preparing for.
I immediately found a dragon circling above my old bank. It’s roar echoed through the streets. But it expected magic and beasts, the weapons of it’s own universe.
It did not expect a rocket propelled grenade.
I learned many things on my first quest. Most beasts are lightly protected and will be slain by a single burst from my trusty rifle. Some need a little more kick, which a sniper rifle can certainly provide. And for others you just have to blown them the fuck up. I freed my town from the grip of these creatures, and travelled back to my bunker with a smile on my face.
Technology hadn’t failed us yet.
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Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
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[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
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"Hey Benny! Where you going man?"
I snapped out of the trance that had come over me to see George waving from up the side walk. I wanted to smile, but remembered that wasn't what dude's dude. I forced myself to look bored and cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Sup, Jorge?"
Jorge was a little older than me, a senior in our school. Not that he ever went to it. He was tall and lanky, and had hair that made all the girls swoon. He never seemed to notice, but I always caught on. I even tried to do my hair like his, but it just ended up a streaky mess. Being a short pale kid with a shag rug for hair didn't do me any favors standing next to him
He always had the mischievous grin and a carefree demeanor that always set me at ease. Made me feel "chill", as he called it. This grin told me he had a plan. One I was gonna regret later. His eyes were practically glowing with excitement.
He caught up to me and gave my head an affectionate tousle, which he new I hated.
"Oh no much, bud, just happy to see my favorite little fire slinga," He said with a wink.
I panicked for a second, "Jorge! Be quiet! What if someone hears you?"
"Then you'll roast em on the spot!" He laughed, making finger guns at invisible bystanders. His expression softened for a second when he caught side of mine. He grabbed my shoulders and bent down to look me in the eyes. "Benito, you gotta lighten up man. You know it us or them out there. And your keeping you mom safe for those Slush Puppies."
Ever since the appearance of the dragon a year ago, magic and stuff had started popping back into the world with a vengeance. Along with came all kinds of strange people, calling themselves "The Fae". They were magical beings, the likes of which you'd only ever see in society.
I'd heard that in some places they had taken over entirely, and in others they had been wiped ot by scared, prejudiced humans. Not L.A. though. Los Angeles had turned into a melting pot for all sorts. The current mayor was an Elf, despite allegations of him using charm magic to win the ballot. But for every good Fae that came about, a bad one turned up.
Like or new boss, Ashmouth. Ash was an Orc, one who claimed to be a general where he was from. And when he found the Hell Hounds in their sorry state, he took over. Now the Hounds were one of the biggest gangs in the streets. The people put up with em, the cops hated em. As part of their "protection" plan, you could pay the Hounds a monthly fee, or you could join the gang yourself. One person per family.
Which is why I have a flaming dog tattooed on my back, unbeknownst to my mother. My family could afford the fee, so I'd joined without telling her. She'd be furious to know I was rolling wih a gang, but she'd be devastated as the good Catholic she was to know I was learning fire magic.
Ashmouth had started teaching those that were capable. Those that could learn were called slingers, tossing out fire and smoke. They were covered by their blasters, the guys who couldn't use magic, but new the insides and outs of a gun. The blasters would cover the slingers while they prepared there spells, laying down lead until the slingers were ready.
Jorge was my blaster. And much to my regret, I was his slinger. We had had to fight of some police who had come in on a small deal we were overseeing. I ended slapping a cop in the face with a fire rune, and taking most of his head of. Now anytime I see anything resembling brains I wanna hurl. I'd never felt so much guilt, not even about lying to mom.
"Benny, you gotta snap out if, man," Jorge insisted with a little shake, jolting me from my grim reveries, " 'Cus in gonna need you to night, bro."
"Tonight? But it's a school night!" I protested, feeling a bit confused. Ashmouth usually wanted us kids to stay in class. He didn't want stupid soldiers.
Jorge rolled his eyes, "Benito, we got more important shit than school to worry about tonight. It's finally here. We are finally gonna take the rest of L.A.!" He practically shouted the last phrase at me, but probably because I looked like a fish trying to breathe golf balls.
"It's tonight?! The big fight? But... but... I'm nowhere near ready!" I stammered, terrified at the prospect. I'd only been learning the ways of the flame for 3 months now. Ash said I had promise, but lacked focus. When ever my mind would wander during practice, I'd usually get brought back wih a cuff to the ear.
"You'll be fine, Ben. Look at me," He demanded. I managed to tear my eyes from my shoes and bring them up to his. What I saw scared me a bit. I wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't nice. "Benny, I gotta know you have my back. You know full well I got yours. I'll blast anyone that tries to touch you." He was practically whispering at this point, giving me little shakes for emphasis, "it's happening tonight. And we are gonna earn our spot in the pack. Can I count on you?"
When I didn't respond he gave me a small pat on the cheek, asking firmly, "Ben. Can. I. Count. On. You?"
I looked up at him, wanting to cry, but knowing I couldn't. I took a deep breath, tried to look bored again and wave him off, "Of course bro, I got you. Them slush pups won't know what hit em."
Jorge jumped up with a whoop, slapping me on the back.
"Take your stuff home, then meet me back at the warehouse. Ash wants to run drills before we go out." Without another word, he turned and ran down the street. I watched him go, waiting til he turned the corner before I backed up against the wall and choked back a sob. The Frost Wolves were our biggest and only rivals worth mentioning. They shacked up over in the meet packing industry. Everyone said it was because there boss was like an ice demon or something, but whatever he was, he knew strong magic.
The leader of the Frost wolves only took in people that could use his magic, so they had leas people than us. But his guys were better trained, and they were fucking psychopaths. "Cold-blooded Killers" as they liked to call themselves. They were all adults, and couldn't be in the gang until they had killed some one with there ice magic.
And I was supposed to fight them tonight. I shuddered, with a cold I'm not entirely sure was fake, even in with summer ending. I gathered my things, and picked up mom's groceries and made the rest of the walk home. When I got back, my mom was doing dishes and told me that Jorge had called and asked if I could sleep over. She told me i could as long as we made it to school on time. I thanked then went to my room.
I sat on my bed and stared at the wall for a solid half an hour before my phone buzzed. It was a group message simply stating, "ONE HOUR LEFT." I sighed, and grabbed my smoke stick, the tool I used to draw runes ("it's not a wand!" Ash had bellowed when asked.) And put my body armor on under my hoodie. Mom was sitting on the couch, watching one of her soaps, and I gave her a kiss before I left. She seemed concerned when she saw my face, but I just told her I had a test tomorrow that was gonna be hard, which was why I was helping Jorge study. She smiled and told me she loved me.
I cried the whole way there.
As I got closer, I could tell something was wrong. The air was 20 degrees to cold, and there was smoke in the air. I dropped low and slipped into an alley. I carefully slunk through, gripping my smoke stick so hard my knuckles turned white. I pressed against the wall and took a deep breath. I spun around the corner, stick held out, to find a frozen grave of my friends.
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Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
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I walked out of the old, beaten down factory that I used to work at. I quit because the pay was so bad that I could get more by being unemployed. Doesn't help that 5 days later, the dragons showed up. Almost like it was ripped out of a story book and then added to our "normal" book. Not long after that, the world began practicing magic, as no amount of weaponry could stop the damn things. I began practicing archaic magic, or combat magic. I received a request from a recently imprisoned Fae to release all the Fae inmates that were jailed due to racial prejudices. So, I did it for the measly price I would be payed of 120 pounds. I ran through the compound, shattering guard craniums with lightning ruins and killing golems which were summoned from the more apt guards. I opened various Fae's cages with some arcane mesh that I molded into something that resembled a key. Before I opened the one with my quest-giver, he came. A warden wearing a complete set of Dragon Armor and wielding a rune spear. Dragon Armor is forged using dragon scales and bones. They have the defense of enchanted rock armor, but the flexibility of leather. The rune spear covered head to toe in fire runes which could easily shatter a whole city if put into an arcane reactor. I began by draining the spear of the runes into my own arcane shiv, while trying to dodge his various fireballs. I then proceeded to throw a massive elemental ball at the warden. His armor cracked into thousands of tiny broken and fried scales that are now the color of charcoal. As my throwing knife pierced his chest, so did his life. I opened the final cage and received my reward. That was the last day I decided to quest.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
This sucks, but thank you for taking time to read it.
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Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
With the icecaps melting, sea levels rising, and species dying out by the dozens every year it was hard to imagine we wouldn't come to a breaking point sooner.
It was around this time last year the incident at Fort Knox had occurred. At the time it was believed to be one of the largest scale terrorist attacks in US history, with not only the gold missing and the entire base wiped out, but the entire surrounding county left in a burning rubble. It wasn't until a few surviving recordings had been scavenged did we know for certain what happened.
Shortly after Homeland security, the coast guard, along with a variety of other government agencies combed the Hoosier Forest for their revenge. They found it after the beast the size of an 18 wheeler had been snuffed out, its body it such disrepair that scientists could hardly determine exactly what it was and where it came from. Luckily these behemoths were few and far between, and not incredibly bright.
Since then a specialized task groups have been assembled by almost every country worth it its salt. Over the subsequent months as other monster reared their heads it was clear these groups needed to become a constant. Thus the department now referred to as Magical Danger Mitigation Agency was founded. Luckily along with them came some other less deplorable inhuman species; more specifically fairies, elves, mermaids, nymphs, and a myriad of others all which could neatly fall into the category of fae.
Depending on the breed if that's what you want to call it fae could be incredibly strong, weak, tall, short, and so on. Elves, lycans, and humans typically made it into MDMA as they handled combat and living in close quarters the best. You would see the occasional mermaid but normally only stationed on Island or Coastal base as they are pretty useless on land even with an Automatic rifle.
My team however was based no where near a coast, we were about as far from a sunny shore as you could get. Inland Alaska.
Fresh recruits, it was me, three other humans, five lycans, and twelve goddamn elves. I should have known I would have been stationed with these stuck up pointy eared bastards as soon as I filled out a god damn survey, why did picking winter as my favorite season have to get me sent to Alaska hunting Trolls with 12 of these five foot nothing narcissistic assholes?
The humans and lycans on my team seemed decent enough. Lycans are the type of fae you want on your team, even if they may smell like wet dog even some of the more petite of their species would make a quarterback red in the face with envy. Always hulking and huge, with incredible strength and despite the terrible stereotypes I haven't met one yet that wasn't able to read.
Today was our first quest, there had been reports of moose ripped apart in a local wild life preserve, it was our job to find the troll that had done this and put it down.
It was assumed the entire team wouldn't be needed so six of us were sent, myself along with Daya a lycan ,and four elves. we entered into the woods the midday Alaska sun shown dimly behind over cast clouds making the sky glow bright milky white. The ground was packed with snowfall and we muddled through it from our quads to the area the forest rangers had been receiving the most complaints, a rocky and sloping part of the park dotted with trees both standing and laying on their sides we set up camp and variety of traps intended to catch the Troll.
Just as the sun finally dipped from its lazily low spot in the sky plunging us into darkness we were hit. This was no troll. There must have been forty of them, huldra. Slashing and tearing apart tents and destroying our equipment. Within seconds we jumped into action Daya and I grabbing our rifles and putting our backs to the closest tree, firing into the general direction of the too quick to see sprinting bodies. In that moment I was glad to have them, because while huldra are ungodly fast, nothing is faster then an elf. So much so I didn't even have to worry about friendly fire, apparently our bullets were moving like turtles compared to them. Within minutes the huldra bodies were stacked up in a pile, their furry legs soaked with blood.
I guess those pointy eared bastards are good for something.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I’d held on to my job longer than most; the goblins that were replacing cashiers around the word tended not to like the wide open areas of the American Midwest, so I didn’t have as much competition for keeping my job. Eventually though, even some goblins came out to my little town, as well as some of the other returned fae that felt more of an affinity of the area, and well, I just wasn’t as good with counting money as they were. I needed the calculator on my phone to calculate sales tax. They could multiple 8 digit numbers together in their head.
So, I started to look into going back to school. Universities were retooling quickly, in the face of the changes that had been wrought on our world by the Return. My alma mater in Rolla had become the Missouri Academy for the Arcane & Technological, or MAAT. Due to the heavy Egyptian themes that they had adopted (I think they were really reaching with their name change), they even had sphinxes and other creatures that had taken residence. It was starting to become a boom town for Egyptian revivalism, all because the avatar of Thoth had returned close by in the town of Cairo, Illinois. Rather an odd fate for a small Missouri town. I was setting my sights a little higher though, the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy. MIT had easily managed to keep its role as the pre-eminent research university in the nation, with brilliant students and researches who had quickly grown to appreciate the impact and importance of the Return and what it brought. It was almost an honor just to have a chance at getting in. Graduating from there would be the golden time let to a life of ease. Certainly a better one than my current, well, previous, life as a Walgreens cashier. Nuclear Engineering degrees weren't in high demand even before, with the presidents moratorium on new plants. And so I sat down to breakfast, MIT's response was waiting for me on the kitchen table.
I trembled slightly as I opened it….. and Yes! I was in. Three lines in “We are happy to accept you to join the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy for the study of the kinetics.” But there was more “… on the condition of you completing a quest studying the magic of the dragon Ainfijar, and returning with a full report on the mechanism behind his magical skills”. I had heard of this dragon. He had located himself near Milwaukee, and was known for his ability to send blasts of air that were somehow self contained until they reached the target. I guess the ability to contain those blasts was the question that MIT wanted to know… Not that I had any idea how I was to approach Ainfijar, let alone study him. He was famously known to be reclusive and rather…. hostile to outside forces that intruded on his solitude.
Further down the page, though, was another note. I would have other candidates coming with me on this quest. One John Rothschild, who was training in pyromancy, a Lydia Johnson, who specialized in smithing and magical defenses, and Skye Greenborough, who was a tracker, and expert in herbal medicine and native healing methods. And a note to meet in the Alpha Brewery in St. Louis in two days, on June 14th at noon, if I was “still interested in accepting the offer”. Fortunately, there wasn’t much I needed to pack.
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Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Its been six days. I am cold, hungry, and want to go home.
Oh, and its raining. Did i mention that its raining? It's raining. A miserable light drizzle.
'Simon... Its raining' I say to my brother. 'And it'll be dark soon'
I hate this. Life used to be so simple. Work, T.V, Games repeat. I was comfy. I like being comfy, i had my hair straightener too. My hair goes frizzy in the rain.
So Now i smell like leather, i have blisters on my blisters, and the hair that doesn't stick to my face is a soft tangle of brown frizz.
My older brother, Simon marches on cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the rain.
He's been grinning since we left, singing an on the fly song about going on a quest. I watch his back as he marches on, shield, sword and giant battleaxe clanking as they sway, the rain tinkling of them merrily. Its amazing how fast people adapted. Before the return of the fey, armour shops were few and far between.
Now, there are whole bazaars. You can even buy signs with a big yellow exclamation mark on them, for the modern quest giver on the go i suppose.
I can hear his song on the breeze.
*"May hav'ta go and kill some Dragons.*
Clank, clank.
*Then i may ha'fta go, do me some Swaggin"*
Oh, went with Swaggin' this time. lyrical mastery there. Its good to see him happy though.
Six months ago, my older brother died for a little bit. That's what the doctors told me. i found him, purple and dangling from a beam in the shed.
It was his job i think, I used to imagine him, six and a half feet tall and crammed into a cubicle, answering phones for ten hours a day. He started off with therapy, which immediately led to anti-depressants, which eventually led to my skinny frame supporting well over a hundred kilograms of man with every fibre of being I possessed, Sreaming for help.
He went to hospital, then he went away for a while. 'Just til' i figure my place in the world out, Jess' He would say. He had traded his cubicle for a slightly bigger one, so it would seem.
Then, while he was in there, magic returned. It washed over the civilised world slowly, like a blanket of humility and darkness. A great equaliser. The one percent became people. The sick died. The forests filled with mythical beasts and spirit guardians once more.
People went a bit stupid for a while, because humans are like that.
Then the world settled. Life began again. Then, one morning, Simon returned home. His eyes focused and ablaze with promise. He looked different. It was probably the armour and giant battleaxe.
'I need you to come with me'
'Why?'
'Well, Its dangerous to go alone? here, take this' He said, and handed the sword to me with a grin.
The suburbs were dangerous, and food was scarce. So i wrapped myself in armour, and followed my older brother to wherever he was headed.
Quickly i discovered that I am no warrior. I can barely stand when i hold my shield. I can barely lift my sword, and i'm so tired already.
Lost in my thoughts i bump into Simon. He's like a wall with a beard.
'Alrighty, lets rest here' he says, pointing to a small thicket of trees. He can see i am tired.
He's really good at this. within ten minutes the camp is set. A tarp suspended above keeps us dry, and a fire crackles merrily.
Its a pleasure to take this leather armour off. Its soaked, squashes my boobs, and it rubs me raw under the arms. From my backpack i pull out my bathrobe, its hooded, and midnight black. Before the Fey, i basically lived in it when i could.
I huddle it around me. At least ill be dry soon, but i really should have brought my hairbrush. I miss showers. and baths. and shampoo. Is it too much to ask to smell nice?
'Damn the fey, and damn the damned dragons... I miss... everything.' The words march through my mouth. 'I shouldn't be here, Simon'
Simon throws more wood on the fire. 'What would you have done hey? if i hadn't come back for you'
'I dunno, i would've...' I trail off. What would i have done?
'Died, or worse. Adelaide was headed to shit, and slavers would have got you. That's what would have happened. You can't defend yourself yet, and you would have died because this world, this new world isn't for you.' he pauses and looks up at the sky, and its exceptionally visible stars. 'I know what its like not fitting into a world. Not belonging. I only survived the last world because i had help'
We fall silent. This is something we have talked about, buried, and don't speak of.
'Ill try' I say weakly.
'Just remember, in the darkness you make your own light. Be strong' With that he lays on his sleeping bag, still fully armoured.
'K, Simon.'
'We'll do a bit of training tomorrow, your sword strokes are really coming along' He lies cheerfully.
I would use the term "Swings like a girl" but i have seen some of the Women warriors getting around - and they could punch a house brick into dust.
'Are we really going to kill goblins tomorrow?' i ask anxiously.
'Yup, don't worry, they're more of a pest than a threat, just keep your eyes and throat covered, yeah?, and its worth some gold to us, and we need the money.
That night, I sleep fitfully. Anxiously dreaming of goblins and darkness. I awake with a start. a knife is pressed to my throat.
In the light of a quiet fire, my vision is filled with a grimy man, wickedness reflects from his eyes. "Shhhhhh" he says. His breath stinks of booze and decay. 'Avin' a nightmare were we? Ooooh, we're gonna have some fun with you my lovely' He says. Its terrifying. I freeze. I can feel his tongue on my neck. Simon is still asleep. two figures creep up on him. knives drawn.
I struggle, and he chuckles softly. 'Hold still girlie, you'll like it' Booze, decay. Evil.
Then... I feel it stir. It feels like the beginnings of a laugh. It bubbles up from inside... a welling... All the rage. all the fear, all the helplessness. churns through me. Time slows.
Life could be so unfair. Two people, trying to find their way in the world, about to be killed for no damn reason.
No. Not today.
I raised my hand and am surprised to see it sheathed in lightning. There is a look of panic on the bandits face.
It's the most primal feeling of self righteous *Hatred* I can muster. I push my palm against his face and let it flow through me. The crack of the lightning is deafening. In the dim light I see Simon's eyes open. There is a brief rain of ash and skull fragments. I push the corpse off of me, pushing aside revulsion for later.
Simon roars and stands like an avatar of righteous vengeance. I have never seen him fight before. He's like a demon. He cleaves through one, leaving his his axe buried in his rib-cage. then draws his sword. Stalking his prey. who turns to flee.
I scowl and point a finger at the fleeing man "Stop" i say softly, feeling invisible threads tangle around him. He stops. Paralysed.
'Please sir, have mercy...' He pleads, struggling against invisible bindings.
Simon is angry. One meaty hand slams the paralysed man up against a tree by the throat.
'So... this mercy then... where was this mercy when you were going to knife me to death? or selling my Sister to slavery? make some money of an entire life of misery were you? that's the problem with you bastards, always using the good nature of people against them. No, people like you invented mercy to stop people like me killing you when you're finally caught.'
'What do you think, Jess?' Simon asks.
I say nothing. i bury my sword in the mans neck. I watch him die. I don't feel the least bit bad at all.
Simon shrugs. He is an uncomplicated man.
Silently we loot the men, taking their small arms and any coin they may have. Its actually pretty lucrative.
We take our camp with us, its easier than burying corpses. I still wear my bathrobe. I quickly figure out a minor shield spell that keeps the rain off, and i hold it with only a fragment of concentration. it's giddying how easy this magic stuff is. Oh, and have you ever seen rain running along a forcefield? Its beautiful. Simon uses it to fill out canteens up, he's practical like that.
'You okay?' He finally asks as we set up our new camp an hour or so later.
I nod, I feel the best i have since the returning of the fey. 'you know something? I don't think i want to kill goblins.'
'No? Well... if you don't want to kill things I suppose we could guard caravans, the moneys not too bad. pretty boring though'
'I want to kill bandits.' I say with finality. I can still feel the tongue on my neck. I shiver. the anger returns. 'And slavers.'
Simon pauses for thought stroking his beard. 'Bandit dens have lots more than the few we took out, you know.'
'Simon, in the old world i always felt so... powerless. Evil had won. They had all the cards, all the money. No responsibility for their actions... They had power. Here, We are equals... And i'm going to make light in the darkness, And It will be with fire and destruction i shall make it. These evil folk, I want their dreams haunted by the visions of the destruction that will find them'
Simon nods. He is an uncomplicated man, and I think he's in it for the axe swinging, mostly. 'Sounds good Jess'
Heading south, we walked past the abandoned cars as they sat and rusted. there seemed to be a lot more animals around lately, and forests too, trees grew alarmingly fast now. The sun peeked out, it was a beautiful day after all, and my new healing spell works wonders on blisters.
Spring in step, Free from cubicles, beginning a war against those who would enslave good people. A perfect way to spend a life, in one man's humble opinion.
Simon began to sing. His lyrics needed work, but it was good to see him happy.
*Gonna Go stomp, Some serious bandit*
*Don't ask me why, my mage-sister Planned it*
Its been eight days.
Two since i harnessed the power.
And to those who would do the good folk harm,
Your days are numbered.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
The letter, handwritten in strikingly red ink on brittle parchment, reads:
*Rejoice! The dragons have returned! And with them, the wonders of magic have once again graced our tragic world. Where once was disparity can now be abundance! Where once was the empty longing of faith alone can now hold assurance of our future!*
*And now we call to you – oh great Dragon One. With the rise of the Magical Renaissance, the world has been given a new insight of the people that inhabit this planet. I, Malthazar, Great Wizard of the Coast, have used my newly-mastered sensory abilities to gaze upon your Soul Essence. I am truly taken aback at the amount of pure energy I have found in you. Truly, you possess a potential even greater than my own.*
*Perhaps this sounds ridiculous, and I understand the shock you must feel. Yet I know of no other way to communicate my amazement of what I have found within you.*
*We need you, oh Dragon One.*
*The dragons have brought a new prosperity among our lands, but I believe we can all sense a Darkness lurking in the misty fog of the future. I hold no doubts that you may be the only one to prepare us for future demise.*
I try to read on, but tears have formed in my eyes. Outside, a dragon’s shadow flies past the house and over the sprawling hills. I can hear my children playing in the Missawood patches in my wife’s garden, their laughter echoing through the open window and into my study.
I wipe my tears and read the final words of the letter:
*I wish to teach you, Dragon One. I wish to bring that potential out of you. I wish to turn your Essence into True Power, for you and for our world. Do me – do us all! – this justice for the sake of all that lives and breathes in this New World.*
*In order for this to come to fruition, however, you must reply to this letter with a small contribution of $85 in a check made out to Malthazar Burkley.*
*Please send this to 15 of your closest friends and family members who may also contain True Potential!*
*Live on, Dragon One! I hope to hear from you soon.*
-M.B.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
The seconds seemed to tick away like hours when the moment finally approached. We'd all been warned about it, told what would come of it, but none of us could believe it--that the age of dragons was returning. The ancients had foretold it, but we had taken it as pure myth, the imaginings of societies long gone and far more primitive than us.
Yet, here I was, a year later, sailing out on a ship to the deep arctic, preparing to face my first dragon. The return of the dragons had brought chaos to the world, and few nations remained, but what was left of the U.N. chose to have one last-ditched attempt to stop them. I was that attempt. Something within me had shown to them that I had the power to take on these beasts, that neither man nor machine had thus far felled.
They'd hastily equipped me with whatever heat conductive material they could find, taught me whatever old spells the old tomes had spoken of, and trained me in a bit of combat, but I still had never felt less prepared in my life. Fear coursed through my veins as we approached the site, the last reported sighting area of one of the fiercest dragons of them all--Mirmulnir.
Suddenly, flames poured from the sky. Screaming and yelling covered my poor vessel, the soldiers aboard becoming cannon fodder for the mighty beast. I dived off the edge and swam, as hard as I could, for I had no hope to stop the beast while in the water. Dragging myself onto an ice floe, I screamed to him "Challenge me you fool, one as might as yourself!"
He slowly turned and chuckled. "You think you are as might as me," he said, "now you shall see what might truly is!" With a great beat of his colossal wings, Nirmulnir flew towards me, spitting fire at my feet. I dodged and shot back flames at him, summoning every skill I had learned in training.
Yet, as the fight dragged on, I knew there was no chance I would have to beat, not so long as he was airborne. Then the fool landed, as if out of his own arrogance, and I took my chance.
As I ran, a voice boomed from the sky: "BUT THERE IS ONE THEY FEAR."
"What the--" I thought. No matter though, I had a job to finish. I struck at Nirmulnir, and felt his bones weaken against my blade. His jaws snapped back, and his fiery breath coated me, but it was to no avail, for my shield protected me.
Invigorated by his failure, I leapt onto his skull, and struck repeatedly.
The voice boomed out again: "BUT THERE IS ONE THEY FEAR..."
I struck again, and finally, he fell. As he fell, I felt a new energy enter me, as though I had absorbed something into my very soul.
"IN THEIR TOUNGE HE IS DOVAKHIIN...DRAGONBORN"
I felt a new knowledge in my mind, and uttered those famed words: "Fus Roh Dah!"
It has begun.
Edit: I'm a total noob and this is my first story, but what's a dragon story without fus roh dah?
A word*
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
You know some might have considered me a vigilante.
Or a criminal.
Or a hero
I consider myself a huntsman. I am the one who punishes the powerful for abusing said positions, I am the one pushes them back when they've overstepped their bounds, I am the one who tracks them when they run from their mistakes. However, I never killed. I always had someone I had to go back to.
Then the Dragons came.
God's great scaled agents of destruction fell from the heavens and lit the sky on fire. They exclaimed that they returned to change the world, to stop the great calamity we were running towards, and to light a new fire within our lives. And with them came the Fae, tiny woodland creatures who shined the bright light of magic across the globe. However we all forgot that the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows.
They came soon after. The writhing black creatures that slumped out of the abyss to devour all magic ,that we have dubbed Slimes, attacked the entire world creating bloodshed and chaos on an unprecedented scale. So many people lost their lives in the battle and in an attempt at escape. So many people. The Dragons did nothing, they merely sat on their laurels and allowed humans and Fae to be slaughtered saying that it was all a part of the divine plan. It has been a year since the Dragon's arrival, the population has been cut in half, technology doesn't work anymore, but somehow people are starting to move forward. Youngsters have been going on these things called Quests nowadays it sounds like something straight out of a game of D&D. I think I'll go on one of these Quests, but a quest that is familiar. I'll punish the powerful for abusing said positions, I'll push them back because they've overstepped their bounds, I'll tracks them when because they've run from their mistakes.
I'm going on a quest to kill all Dragons.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
First time posting on this sub, and this is probably trash so feedback is greatly appreciated.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Nobody believed the news when they saw it. Many thought it was a hoax and why shouldn’t they? A dragon rampaging though New York… it was like something out of the movies.
It is only now that we’re beginning to understand that all the legends, the lore, the fairy tales, if not true, were more real than we possibly could have imagined.
When the first Red dragon appeared, it… how can I explain this, it changed the rules we live by. Physics and logic, they became warped with each beat of its wings. Our technology ceased working overnight, as if the beast had absorbed it. Electricity is now more legendary than the dragons themselves. And, overnight, we lost our place at the top of the food chain. With our technology gone, we have never in our history been so susceptible to another species of animal.
New York was in gridlock when the first dragon struck, a year ago. It rose from the Hudson River, veiled by a terrible fog of steam it had created. Glowing from the embers beneath its skin, it torched the streets, with breath hot enough to melt the asphalt. Whole blocks succumbed to its blaze and the people it trapped were doomed. Some shot their guns but the bullets just ricocheted off it rock-like skin.
I was working in a call center that day. I hated the job; every aspect of it: the monotony of saying the same thing, over and over; having to be polite to rude people every day. In fact, I was thinking of handing in my notice that day. I had walked to work, as I normally did, and so was not affected by the gridlocked roads. It was impossible not to notice the chaos going on around you. And you can imagine the language I heard from the people I passed by on the sidewalk, who couldn’t get to work because the battery in every single cabby was broke.
The phones in the call centre weren’t working either. Cutting our losses, my colleagues and I went into the street and had lunch. It was while I was drinking a warm can of coke (all the refrigerators had lost power too) that we first felt the vibrations. The ground began to literally shake. Cars wobbled on their tyres and a couple of windows from the apartments up above us fractured. Quickly, we ran to find shelter. There was a lot of screaming. We all thought it was an earthquake. Then we saw the mushroom cloud of smoke rising into the sky.
“Not again. Those bastards.” I turned around and saw it was Sandra. She was a pale, middle aged woman I worked with and she was shaking with rage.
“No,” I told her. “This isn’t terrorism. Nothing human can make the ground shake like this.”
As if in agreement, the vibrations grew in strength. There was a pattern to it and it was getting more intense. Then we heard the roar.
Have you ever been so frightened that you choke? Well, that’s how frightened I was when the Red dragon appeared in front of us, as large as an elephant but as quick as a greyhound. Its six legs scrambled over the ground like an insect and its four eyes twitched, scanning everything around it.
I wanted to run but my legs had turned to stone. As it faced me, it screeched in rage. And then it did something I was not expecting.
The smouldering teeth in its mouth parted just enough for me to see the embers glowing inside.
An ancient voice, deep and gravelly, called out.
“Do not.. come closer… Bahumut.”
I didn’t understand. My legs were still frozen and my heart felt like it was exploding in my chest.
Then I felt it, like a switch inside of me had been turned on. The appearance of this monster had triggered something in me.
I was not longer standing on the floor. I was floating several feet above the ground.
Looking at my reflection in a shop window, I saw that I had transformed. It was inexplicable. I was something totally different… a white dragoon.
As I hovered towards it, it used all its six legs to pounce at me as flames dripped from its mouth.
Instinctively, I shot up into the air. I didn’t know how I was doing it but I was harnessing energy around me. In my hand, a spear of light appeared, glowing pearl. I came crashing down onto the beast and felt its skull concave under the tip of my spear.
It screeched, and hot ash rained down on me, burning my skin. Hissing, it withered and fell to the floor, turning into ash.
That was a year ago. Since then, I have discovered that I, and a few others, have the ability to fight these monsters. Since the destruction of military weapons, we’re all humanity have left.
I have been protecting as many people as I can, but too many have died, despite my best efforts. It is time I search for others, like myself. We have to find a way to kill all the Red dragons. Each month that they exist, it feels like the Earth tilts towards the irreconcilable.
There is a darker force awaiting us. I can sense it.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
*"Well, it appears that's that. See you never, fuck face!"*
Angie, the scrunch-faced secretary of David's department of the Deerborne steel repository spoke with undisguised mirth from her car. She rolled up the window and made a feeble attempt at peeling out of the parking lot. It was on a little rise overlooking what was once a rather drab rectangle patterned with solar panels- now the building was patterned with orange and red flames cutting through the roof. At the far eastern edge, where the whole structure had sunken into a blazing, smoking pit, an inky shadow perched on an uneven pile of rubble. The roost of four female and one male American wyvern had once been contained with four others in the smoldering remnants of Detroit. Apparently these had struck out their own from the edge of the brooding ground. The male stretched its wings wide, and breathed a vast gout of flames skyward, eliciting screeches of approval from the smaller females circling above.
Angie was right. Six years as an actuary and fourteen a department manager, his legacy was now presided over by a horror awakened by the very work he had done. That was very much that. He drove off, still unsure if he was happy. What was he even going to do? What did he even *want* to do? He'd have to move for a start-his modest house was now squarely in the hunting range of the beasts. Beyond that, how had they gotten past the blockade of warplanes that loitered on the city's periphery? That thought scared him more. The radio still mournfully played an Oboe concerto by Strauss, and David elected to simply lose himself in the stormy texture. He'd plot a course in the few remaining hours he had in his home. Had the music not descended into raucous applause before he arrived on his street, he might not have even noticed the silver luxury sedan peeking through the trees at the top of his sloping drive.
David breathed slowly, calmly and deliberately. He parked on the street two houses up, putting a hedge between him and his own slim front porch. This was not a coincidence, and he held the spiny cold of adrenaline in the back of his throat. He reached into his coat, fingers sliding around the grip of his old service pistol. He thumbed the draw guard, and slid it just free enough to snap the safety catch. He crouched low and worked his way through his neighbors overgrown garden, soft footfalls carrying him on a meandering route. The towering hydrangeas and tangled undergrowth kept him hypothetically hidden from whoever waited for him. He knelt in foliage at the edge of his lawn and peered through broad leaves at the car. Two large men, buzz-cut and broad slowly patrolled the edges of the driveway walking arching routes meant to surveil the street through the trees. A third silhouette, much slimmer but no shorter, leaned on the hood of the vehicle. He was looking directly at where David stood. David took that as his cue, and stepped out of the bushes.
"Stop!"
The third man's high, sharp voice cut the air, and he cast a slim hand in the direction of the others. One of them gave a whipping two-fingered gesture, and David felt his gun tugged from its holster. If he held it any tighter it might have broken his finger as it snapped out in front of him, hanging queerly just out of reach. Then disassembled itself, and there was a soft rain as the components scattered about the lawn.
"I told you to *stop* you sack of shit! What the fuck? We wait for the guy for four hours and the first thing you do is *fuck with him*?"
The man's wild gesticulations sent the pair cowering backwards. His limbs were slim and his fingers spidery, giving his motions a conductor's deliberate vigor. They all wore black suits with a silvery pin winking on the lapel, and there was a slim, long face peaking out of a wild shock of tawny hair. Tall pointed ears poked from the messy pile, and his eyes had an iridescent vibrancy. David thought of running, but recognized the futility as he was rounded on.
"Terribly sorry my friend, let me get that for you."
He gave a soft Beckoning sweep of his fingers, and the gun parts snapped across the ground into his outstretched hand. David stared darkly at the Fae offering him his gun with an undeniably mischievous smile that seemed to take up more of his face than was natural.
"I'm not your friend."
David snatched the pistol, checked the breach and holstered it, eyes only flitting from the Fae for a second. It's smile cracked, revealing a yellowing mouth of sharp splintered fangs. An unnerving reminder this *thing* was only playing at being human.
"Of course, stranger waiting for you with some goons, doesn't look good does it! However, I'm only here to offer you an opportunity. An opportunity that doesn't come about every day!"
The Fae lifted an open hand, which filled with dark leatherbound folio. He cracked it open and paged deliberately through it, shimmering eyes sweeping back and forth across the pages. David became aware that despite having only taken one step out of the bushes, he now stood a few feet onto his driveway, utterly unaware of when the transition occurred. There was a sharp gasp, and a finger snapped down onto the page.
"Right here. March 26th, two years previous. The third Alr'oquin expansion passed through this area, a natural phenomenon set in motion by the death of keeper Fallwetter. The government's required blood test showed several awakenings, you included. The new keeper elected to leave the mature humans ialone, but..."
He interrupted his babbling to chitter, covering his mouth with his slim fingers. As a rule David ignored the politics and news of sprawling magical events, as they were both complex to comprehend and often incorporeal in nature. He didn't feel he had any grasp on what the Fae was talking about.
"But, seeing as you are now...*unemployed*... We would like to offer you a scholarship to the New Fox-Sauk school of sorcery and practical magics."
He snapped the folio shut, and offered David an appraising look. He plumbed what little he understood, trying to comprehend. He had heard of people discovering latent magical abilities, and children born with the power after the coming of new nature. But the idea that not only was it within him, but he had been kept unawares? Had he even felt any significant difference, but would he? He began to stammer, starting sentences but not really knowing where to take them or what to ask. The Fae continued his smug look of appraisal, like a missionary offering the gospel. He stopped suddenly, watching the other men out of the corner of his eye. He suspected "no" might be an option without any significance.
"I...can do magic..."
The Fae nodded, smug smile spreading.
"And you'll teach me..."
"For three years, with eighteen months of service following as your practical certification. You people love your certifications."
That was a twinge, recognition his deal might have more strings than he could comprehend as of now.
"Why offer this? Why now, and not before? What reason do you have to teach me?"
"What reason did humans have to build colleges and schools for centuries? Knowledge is usable by all."
David thought, long and hard. He wasn't young, and both military school and the college after his service had been taxing on him. But it *was* a new natural order, and being a part of it might be more essential the stranger it all got. He thought of the Devils breathing flames across his old life, immolating twenty years of progress.
"I'll get my bag."
An arm shot out and touched his shoulder as he turned up his driveway
"New things will be provided. This property will still be yours, but the proximity to the wyvern roost...I suppose you should grab a souvenir...just a little something. A token of sorts"
David looked back up at his house, thinking of one thing he'd like to keep. His ex-wife's funeral card? The key to the moldering Impala out back? It came to his racing mind suddenly and simply. Up the stairs, through the small kitchen and down the stair into the little office that looked out the back of the house onto the woods. In the third drawer down, still in its dusty leatherette box under three folders of bank documents. Inside, the Cyrillic note simply read "keep it simple. Congratulations David." The single-hand Luch watch hadn't been wound in a decade, but he slipped off his comparatively glitzy Rolex and buckled it loosely on his wrist. His parents had been the only ones eager for him to go back to school, and he thought they might appreciate his return. As he walked down the front steps, he thought he saw a great shadow wheeling overhead, and swiftly disappeared into the silver car to began what he supposed was a new life.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
It had been a year since the first dragon returned. Apparently global warming was good for something, because the dragons brought magic and faes and all sorts of mythical things. And global warming brought the end of global warming, thank the gods, as we had conjured up some ridiculous set of spells that did something, I think it draws carbon dioxide from the air and turns it into something, but that's besides the point.
Today I'm going to set off on my first ever quest.
Magic was quickly replacing technology, but that doesn't mean tech just went out the window, no, it got an upgrade. Magically connected wifi all across the globe, hell yeah. I checked my phone and pulled up my Quest Log. Well Quest Log being the app everyone that wants to get hired for a quest uses.
My first quest was simple, wipe out some goblins, gotta start somewhere, right?
The location was fairly nearby, and the goblins hadn't become a threat yet, but the city leaders thought that it was only a matter of time. Doesn't matter as long as they pay me what I want. And for a first quest this had a pretty damn good price.
$500,000 to wipe out this encampment.
That price tag might make it seem dangerous, but in reality that's a measly sum for some of the more elite adventurers, plus the city has no idea what it's doing when it comes to all this new magic stuff, they tried to keep their head in the ground until someone nearly got killed by it.
I drove to the outside of the encampment and parked my car ok the hill above it. Alright I should have most of my gear, let's get started.
There's about a dozen goblins in all. They've got tens and a campfire and are outfitted with spears for the most part.
I raise my Steyr AUG and put the first goblin's head in my crosshairs. Breathe in. Hold. Squeeze.
The rifle bucks a little bit, recoil taking hold, but the goblin falls in an instant. The rest of them gather around the center of the camp, big mistake.
I flip the fire mode selector to burst, this AUG was specially commissioned thanks to my adventurers license.
With just a few more well placed shots the goblins all fall, ugh, goblins are fucking disgusting. I rifle through their camp and find some interesting stuff, little bit of gold, some jewelry, and a magic ring that I'll have to get identified later.
That was it? Kinda feels like I cheated, but who cares, I'm getting paid!
I return to the city and get my reward, deposited straight into my bank account. Sitting down at my computer I look at the next couple of quests. One for a young dragon's bounty catches my eye, but I'm gonna need a party for that.
|
Magic positively thrummed through my body, my newly awakened meridians pounded with mana and begged to be unleashed as I sat on the green hill filled with grass. I slowly opened my eyes and reigned in my instincts and looked up to the sky. Today was the day I would get my very first quest, mere weeks after the first human awakened to magic and only a month since the awakening of Dragons, return of the Fae, and rebirth of magic itself. I was of the first twenty, perhaps even ten, people to get magical powers. We had all recieved the message in our mind, that the first of humanity had been blessed with magic, and I swore I would not fall behind.
My mind drifted back to the first day. The Awakening. The day Dragons returned. There were seven of the mighty creatures, each rising from their very own continent; They were large enough anyone on that continent could see it. Their wings blotted out the skies, their roars could be heard across oceans, and their magical power had such force their mere presence created a weight on the shoulder of the entire continent. Life itself bowed to the majesty of the Dragons, none dared to offend them, all were in awe and shock.
An owl’s screech tore me from my thoughts, and I smile brilliantly as I look upwards at my quest-giver, a truly massive snow white owl with what must have been a wingspan of six and a half feet. I stood and before I could finish my movement it dropped my letter, and blted away back its Fae master. I looked in front of me at the levitating letter, begging to be opened. Without hesitation I gripped my letter and tore it oped with greed pouring over the contents. I stumbled backwards in shock, and gasped. In the letter was a list of resources I was required to collect, but they were no ordinary resources.
Collect:
-A Dragon’s Scale
-A Dragon’s Claw Fragment
-A Dragon’s Tooth Fragment
This was my first and perhaps last quest, but by the Fae I’ll do my damnedest!
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I had been a child with high hopes for the world, but as the adults succeeded in killing the 'magic' of it I had decided that pessimism was the only fair light to see watch the world in.
I was a disillusioned teen when they returned.
At first, it was another Bigfoot story, a few hazy pictures and a madman in the mountains. Then the first official military contact. Then, the global realisation. Dragons were real. And quite more reasonable than we had been led to believe through fiction.
It seems that the last time our kind had seen theirs, the knights of eld had declared war on Dragonkind. In return, they had simply gone to sleep and sealed off their mountain homes until a more favorable time came, taking all memory of their existence with them.
And once the ice melted in a particularly warm spring season, they left to hunt and forage as they once had. And they found a world changed, a race reborn and unified, lands exploited through science and agriculture and, most importantly, all devoid of magic.
Once first military contact in the Swiss alps turned out as a spectacular defeat for the United Nations, a peace council was formed. Though dragons may have spoken a tongue far older than human writing, they had a way to directly infer meaning to the mind.
This made peace talks go rather swiftly; the dragons had no intention for war, merely coexistence. Paper was signed, and for the first time in centuries, humans made a Pact with the dragons.
Do mind, however: this was no mere agreement, the dragons sealed a magical contact with the humans that day. For keeping the peace and not hunting their kind as humanity apparently had before, the dragons would start the regeneration of the land and it's inherent powers.
Magic, The Life of The Land, Aether, call it whatever you'd like, but it returned to the lands, and the dragons taught select few on how to utilize it. These select few taught others, and soon, through the miracles of the internet, everyone could learn any magic they wanted.
This, of course, enormously and grandiosely backfired.
After the initial chaos had been quelled by those not wanting to see the world fought over by the inherently malicious and greedy, the learning of magic was regulated. Any source of arcane knowledge was purged from the internet. Offensive magic was only to be taught to adults whom had been tested for fatal character flaws and moral ambiguity. Defensive spells became a part of mandatory curriculum for most education. And so on, and so on.
The dragons, satisfied with their work and the upkeep of The Pact, roamed the land freely and made residence wherever they were welcome, which was basically everywhere, since humans were still enamoured with them.
As the land healed, the hidden races of the land started showing themselves more and more, the divergent varieties of the fae folk, elemental varieties of ordinary species, immortal Phoenix, hell, even centaurs had come out of hiding. Most of these started (or inferred) their reason for coming out of hiding to be 'The old ones', as was how they referred to the dragons.
Humanity has had a busy 5 years, after which war and territory seemed to matter less than before. We were no longer adversaries, we were all explorers of the new, untested waters the dragons had left for us to learn on our own.
Skip ahead another 5 years, and here I am. I am a rookie apprentice to the house of Lestrallum, one of the five largest magic academia of London. I had earned a level 2 diploma in healing magic, level 3 in defensive magic, level 1 offensive and level 4 in arcane fundamentals. I had had an ordinary accounting job to cover the first few bills, but my healing was thorough, and sought after anywhere I went.
I have been sent out to receive my first local Quest in a region chosen to challenge me on the bases I was weakest in. I had been sent to the newly-rejuvenating Saharan grasslands, to aid the local population through the Quest I was to receive.
A Quest was no mere request made by local farmhands, Quests are a form of magical contracts directly taught to us by the dragons. Every community had a local quest-managing committee, made up of community representatives to make the upper-level decisions, and quest givers, those whom would distribute, initiate, assess and manage individual quests up to their completion, and see to the issuing of completion rewards.
My trek through the grassy hills allowed me the peace of mind to expand my consciousness past arcane boundaries at times. So it was that I was able to listen to the Dragonsong; an arcane frequency, only able to be 'heard' with enough arcane foreknowledge and resolution.
Dragons, throughout their waking lives, contribute their voices to this Dragonsong, shaping it's overall tone and melody, as a type of global unconscious. Though a single dragon 'singing' may not sound like anything humans would ordinarily describe as melodious, the Dragonsong is beautiful and tells news of far away events aswell as the state of the world at large.
Today, it tells of calm winds and fair skies, an overall sense of peace in its tone, yet it's rhythm telling of the myriad gears underneath, quickly turning in sync symbolizing everyone's hard work to keep the peace.
I'm snapped out of my reverie as I spot what has to be my quest-giver up on the next hill, waiting by the river, talking to another adventurer. I quicken my pace as I walk towards my own task necessary to keep the peace in this region.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Look, I'm tired and I wrote a lot already, I'm ending it here for now, but I may return to it tomorrow morning. Yes, I know the end is crappy and there's prolly tons of mistakes. It's 2am here, cut me some slack.
|
At precisely seven a.m., Eastern Standard Time, I stepped into the dragon's cave.
"Good morning, Mister Crawflame," I called ahead.
One baleful yellow eye cracked open, and the sulphurous smell of his breath washed through the cave, the dragon cracking a wide yawn. I made note of three dental caries, pitted marks in teeth as long as swords, and made a note.
"Good morning, Princess Beale," he replied. "Put the cauldron on, please."
"Right away, Mister Crawflame."
The cauldron was an old Fae thing, or so I presumed. I didn't waste my patron's time with trivial questions. What was important was that at a touch, it heated up, and then filled itself as directed: a rich, bubbling brown brew, redolent of good french-roast columbian.
It had taken all of a *day* for the Fae to discover coffee. It took my friend Samantha a week to go from barista to baroness.
While he took his morning coffee, I cracked open the room-size boxes Dell had shipped us, unpacking a keyboard bigger than my living room at home. The display was next, and then the wand-powered ethernet wi-fi setup that perched itself atop the box.
The DVD player was still on, looping the menu screen for *The Wolf Of Wall Street*. I smiled and tapped the player. "Was this illuminating, Mister Crawflame?"
"Quite," said the dragon, in the tone of a beast unused to finding himself pleasantly impressed. "I'm used to my tributes coming to me as meals, or paltry wealth. Not as a means to expand my wealth."
I finished plugging in the computer, and hooked it in to the small generator-gem I'd traded for with a Dwarf. Four cases of craft stout to the cost of a generator had been a profitable deal, and now was the key ingredient for courting my employer's favor.
"We have a saying, give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for life."
"I'm far more partial to cattle," Mister Crawflame said.
"Cattle prices are the first thing we're going to track. With prairie ranchers abutting your land, I can negotiate steerage fees at wholesale prices. Cheap cattle, no legal problems, and once you buy the land, you can simply request the grazing lease value in heads of cattle each year, Mister Crawflame. I've thoroughly investigated the land rights around your territory claim."
The dragon narrowed his eyes at me, and then smiled. "I did some investigations of my own, Princess Beale. I'm given to understand you have misrepresented your royal lineage."
Cards on the table time. I drew myself up, and looked the dragon in the eye, ignoring the quailing icicle of mortal terror that coursed down my back. "I permitted a mistranslation between the Fae tongue and our modern english to present me with a competitive opportunity, sir," I retorted. "There was no equivalent, adequate term for a woman in their tongue, that enjoyed the level of education and acumen that I possess. Since the last time our languages diverged, the mechanism for education have evolved. In the past, a Princess was the closest thing our people, or the Fae, would have a term for a highly educated woman."
Mister Crawflame's head loomed in, his stare hardening, but instead of qualing away I stepped towards him, stiff-backed.
"Mister Crawflame, your language doesn't yet have a term for people like me. We've had to invent new words in just the last two centuries that encompass it. Words of power from *our* lands: PhD. Economics. Harvard graduate *cum laude*."
I was pleased that the words really *did* crackle with power, now.
The dragon stared at me a moment longer, and then began to chuckle. "I know *that*, too," he said. "I was assured by a Fae greatly craven to earn my trust that you had left your prior patron for me, and that your patron was outrageously wealthy."
I inclined my head. "His current personal wealth would exceed your weight in gold six times over, sir," I said respectfully. I gestured to the computer. "But we can take it from him. And much more. Your species understands capitalization and wealth management from birth. There's a gold rush on now, among your kin. Two kirin's already hold the majority of the world's bitcoin. But none of them *yet* have broken into futures and stock exchange. But that's coming."
The dragon nodded smartly. "Then let's get started, Princess Beale."
We shared a smile, and I brought up the New York Stock Exchange. Mister Crawflame's pupils dilated like a cat set upon a bird, as yesterdays' numbers began scrolling by.
"Opening bell's in fifteen minutes."
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I’m a tinkerer. I find things, and I fix them. Sometimes I even make things with spare parts lying around. It’s simple and I love it.
So I was really pissed when electricity was completely replaced by magic.
Nobody saw it coming, from NASA to the most radical conspiracy theorists. When dragons showed up, I’m sure everyone pinched themselves. When children began throwing things around rooms without touching them and seemingly random people were able to conjure a flame in their palm, we became paranoid. Isolationist. The world truly became every man for themselves, and the beasts of the Fae were overrunning the towns that were once lit by the lights of society.
I developed powers, too. And I couldn’t have wished for anything more useful. I could take a good look at an abject and just know how it was made. Doesn’t matter what, whether it’s natural or artificial. If I picked up an old piece of tech I could see it’s blueprints. If I picked up a rock I could see a volcanic eruption. And I knew how I’d be able to assemble them.
I happened across a military bunker during my evacuation. Fate, luck, I couldn’t care less by that point. Abandoned, but still stocked full. Since the power went out all security has been lifted. Everything from bombs to blades was stored here. And as I browsed it, I realised much of it didn’t need electricity.
So I stayed. And I found the secrets of the weapons. I made more. Soon I was ready to take back my town. I was ready for a quest, one that I’d unknowingly spent my whole life preparing for.
I immediately found a dragon circling above my old bank. It’s roar echoed through the streets. But it expected magic and beasts, the weapons of it’s own universe.
It did not expect a rocket propelled grenade.
I learned many things on my first quest. Most beasts are lightly protected and will be slain by a single burst from my trusty rifle. Some need a little more kick, which a sniper rifle can certainly provide. And for others you just have to blown them the fuck up. I freed my town from the grip of these creatures, and travelled back to my bunker with a smile on my face.
Technology hadn’t failed us yet.
|
At precisely seven a.m., Eastern Standard Time, I stepped into the dragon's cave.
"Good morning, Mister Crawflame," I called ahead.
One baleful yellow eye cracked open, and the sulphurous smell of his breath washed through the cave, the dragon cracking a wide yawn. I made note of three dental caries, pitted marks in teeth as long as swords, and made a note.
"Good morning, Princess Beale," he replied. "Put the cauldron on, please."
"Right away, Mister Crawflame."
The cauldron was an old Fae thing, or so I presumed. I didn't waste my patron's time with trivial questions. What was important was that at a touch, it heated up, and then filled itself as directed: a rich, bubbling brown brew, redolent of good french-roast columbian.
It had taken all of a *day* for the Fae to discover coffee. It took my friend Samantha a week to go from barista to baroness.
While he took his morning coffee, I cracked open the room-size boxes Dell had shipped us, unpacking a keyboard bigger than my living room at home. The display was next, and then the wand-powered ethernet wi-fi setup that perched itself atop the box.
The DVD player was still on, looping the menu screen for *The Wolf Of Wall Street*. I smiled and tapped the player. "Was this illuminating, Mister Crawflame?"
"Quite," said the dragon, in the tone of a beast unused to finding himself pleasantly impressed. "I'm used to my tributes coming to me as meals, or paltry wealth. Not as a means to expand my wealth."
I finished plugging in the computer, and hooked it in to the small generator-gem I'd traded for with a Dwarf. Four cases of craft stout to the cost of a generator had been a profitable deal, and now was the key ingredient for courting my employer's favor.
"We have a saying, give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for life."
"I'm far more partial to cattle," Mister Crawflame said.
"Cattle prices are the first thing we're going to track. With prairie ranchers abutting your land, I can negotiate steerage fees at wholesale prices. Cheap cattle, no legal problems, and once you buy the land, you can simply request the grazing lease value in heads of cattle each year, Mister Crawflame. I've thoroughly investigated the land rights around your territory claim."
The dragon narrowed his eyes at me, and then smiled. "I did some investigations of my own, Princess Beale. I'm given to understand you have misrepresented your royal lineage."
Cards on the table time. I drew myself up, and looked the dragon in the eye, ignoring the quailing icicle of mortal terror that coursed down my back. "I permitted a mistranslation between the Fae tongue and our modern english to present me with a competitive opportunity, sir," I retorted. "There was no equivalent, adequate term for a woman in their tongue, that enjoyed the level of education and acumen that I possess. Since the last time our languages diverged, the mechanism for education have evolved. In the past, a Princess was the closest thing our people, or the Fae, would have a term for a highly educated woman."
Mister Crawflame's head loomed in, his stare hardening, but instead of qualing away I stepped towards him, stiff-backed.
"Mister Crawflame, your language doesn't yet have a term for people like me. We've had to invent new words in just the last two centuries that encompass it. Words of power from *our* lands: PhD. Economics. Harvard graduate *cum laude*."
I was pleased that the words really *did* crackle with power, now.
The dragon stared at me a moment longer, and then began to chuckle. "I know *that*, too," he said. "I was assured by a Fae greatly craven to earn my trust that you had left your prior patron for me, and that your patron was outrageously wealthy."
I inclined my head. "His current personal wealth would exceed your weight in gold six times over, sir," I said respectfully. I gestured to the computer. "But we can take it from him. And much more. Your species understands capitalization and wealth management from birth. There's a gold rush on now, among your kin. Two kirin's already hold the majority of the world's bitcoin. But none of them *yet* have broken into futures and stock exchange. But that's coming."
The dragon nodded smartly. "Then let's get started, Princess Beale."
We shared a smile, and I brought up the New York Stock Exchange. Mister Crawflame's pupils dilated like a cat set upon a bird, as yesterdays' numbers began scrolling by.
"Opening bell's in fifteen minutes."
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
"Hey Benny! Where you going man?"
I snapped out of the trance that had come over me to see George waving from up the side walk. I wanted to smile, but remembered that wasn't what dude's dude. I forced myself to look bored and cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Sup, Jorge?"
Jorge was a little older than me, a senior in our school. Not that he ever went to it. He was tall and lanky, and had hair that made all the girls swoon. He never seemed to notice, but I always caught on. I even tried to do my hair like his, but it just ended up a streaky mess. Being a short pale kid with a shag rug for hair didn't do me any favors standing next to him
He always had the mischievous grin and a carefree demeanor that always set me at ease. Made me feel "chill", as he called it. This grin told me he had a plan. One I was gonna regret later. His eyes were practically glowing with excitement.
He caught up to me and gave my head an affectionate tousle, which he new I hated.
"Oh no much, bud, just happy to see my favorite little fire slinga," He said with a wink.
I panicked for a second, "Jorge! Be quiet! What if someone hears you?"
"Then you'll roast em on the spot!" He laughed, making finger guns at invisible bystanders. His expression softened for a second when he caught side of mine. He grabbed my shoulders and bent down to look me in the eyes. "Benito, you gotta lighten up man. You know it us or them out there. And your keeping you mom safe for those Slush Puppies."
Ever since the appearance of the dragon a year ago, magic and stuff had started popping back into the world with a vengeance. Along with came all kinds of strange people, calling themselves "The Fae". They were magical beings, the likes of which you'd only ever see in society.
I'd heard that in some places they had taken over entirely, and in others they had been wiped ot by scared, prejudiced humans. Not L.A. though. Los Angeles had turned into a melting pot for all sorts. The current mayor was an Elf, despite allegations of him using charm magic to win the ballot. But for every good Fae that came about, a bad one turned up.
Like or new boss, Ashmouth. Ash was an Orc, one who claimed to be a general where he was from. And when he found the Hell Hounds in their sorry state, he took over. Now the Hounds were one of the biggest gangs in the streets. The people put up with em, the cops hated em. As part of their "protection" plan, you could pay the Hounds a monthly fee, or you could join the gang yourself. One person per family.
Which is why I have a flaming dog tattooed on my back, unbeknownst to my mother. My family could afford the fee, so I'd joined without telling her. She'd be furious to know I was rolling wih a gang, but she'd be devastated as the good Catholic she was to know I was learning fire magic.
Ashmouth had started teaching those that were capable. Those that could learn were called slingers, tossing out fire and smoke. They were covered by their blasters, the guys who couldn't use magic, but new the insides and outs of a gun. The blasters would cover the slingers while they prepared there spells, laying down lead until the slingers were ready.
Jorge was my blaster. And much to my regret, I was his slinger. We had had to fight of some police who had come in on a small deal we were overseeing. I ended slapping a cop in the face with a fire rune, and taking most of his head of. Now anytime I see anything resembling brains I wanna hurl. I'd never felt so much guilt, not even about lying to mom.
"Benny, you gotta snap out if, man," Jorge insisted with a little shake, jolting me from my grim reveries, " 'Cus in gonna need you to night, bro."
"Tonight? But it's a school night!" I protested, feeling a bit confused. Ashmouth usually wanted us kids to stay in class. He didn't want stupid soldiers.
Jorge rolled his eyes, "Benito, we got more important shit than school to worry about tonight. It's finally here. We are finally gonna take the rest of L.A.!" He practically shouted the last phrase at me, but probably because I looked like a fish trying to breathe golf balls.
"It's tonight?! The big fight? But... but... I'm nowhere near ready!" I stammered, terrified at the prospect. I'd only been learning the ways of the flame for 3 months now. Ash said I had promise, but lacked focus. When ever my mind would wander during practice, I'd usually get brought back wih a cuff to the ear.
"You'll be fine, Ben. Look at me," He demanded. I managed to tear my eyes from my shoes and bring them up to his. What I saw scared me a bit. I wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't nice. "Benny, I gotta know you have my back. You know full well I got yours. I'll blast anyone that tries to touch you." He was practically whispering at this point, giving me little shakes for emphasis, "it's happening tonight. And we are gonna earn our spot in the pack. Can I count on you?"
When I didn't respond he gave me a small pat on the cheek, asking firmly, "Ben. Can. I. Count. On. You?"
I looked up at him, wanting to cry, but knowing I couldn't. I took a deep breath, tried to look bored again and wave him off, "Of course bro, I got you. Them slush pups won't know what hit em."
Jorge jumped up with a whoop, slapping me on the back.
"Take your stuff home, then meet me back at the warehouse. Ash wants to run drills before we go out." Without another word, he turned and ran down the street. I watched him go, waiting til he turned the corner before I backed up against the wall and choked back a sob. The Frost Wolves were our biggest and only rivals worth mentioning. They shacked up over in the meet packing industry. Everyone said it was because there boss was like an ice demon or something, but whatever he was, he knew strong magic.
The leader of the Frost wolves only took in people that could use his magic, so they had leas people than us. But his guys were better trained, and they were fucking psychopaths. "Cold-blooded Killers" as they liked to call themselves. They were all adults, and couldn't be in the gang until they had killed some one with there ice magic.
And I was supposed to fight them tonight. I shuddered, with a cold I'm not entirely sure was fake, even in with summer ending. I gathered my things, and picked up mom's groceries and made the rest of the walk home. When I got back, my mom was doing dishes and told me that Jorge had called and asked if I could sleep over. She told me i could as long as we made it to school on time. I thanked then went to my room.
I sat on my bed and stared at the wall for a solid half an hour before my phone buzzed. It was a group message simply stating, "ONE HOUR LEFT." I sighed, and grabbed my smoke stick, the tool I used to draw runes ("it's not a wand!" Ash had bellowed when asked.) And put my body armor on under my hoodie. Mom was sitting on the couch, watching one of her soaps, and I gave her a kiss before I left. She seemed concerned when she saw my face, but I just told her I had a test tomorrow that was gonna be hard, which was why I was helping Jorge study. She smiled and told me she loved me.
I cried the whole way there.
As I got closer, I could tell something was wrong. The air was 20 degrees to cold, and there was smoke in the air. I dropped low and slipped into an alley. I carefully slunk through, gripping my smoke stick so hard my knuckles turned white. I pressed against the wall and took a deep breath. I spun around the corner, stick held out, to find a frozen grave of my friends.
|
At precisely seven a.m., Eastern Standard Time, I stepped into the dragon's cave.
"Good morning, Mister Crawflame," I called ahead.
One baleful yellow eye cracked open, and the sulphurous smell of his breath washed through the cave, the dragon cracking a wide yawn. I made note of three dental caries, pitted marks in teeth as long as swords, and made a note.
"Good morning, Princess Beale," he replied. "Put the cauldron on, please."
"Right away, Mister Crawflame."
The cauldron was an old Fae thing, or so I presumed. I didn't waste my patron's time with trivial questions. What was important was that at a touch, it heated up, and then filled itself as directed: a rich, bubbling brown brew, redolent of good french-roast columbian.
It had taken all of a *day* for the Fae to discover coffee. It took my friend Samantha a week to go from barista to baroness.
While he took his morning coffee, I cracked open the room-size boxes Dell had shipped us, unpacking a keyboard bigger than my living room at home. The display was next, and then the wand-powered ethernet wi-fi setup that perched itself atop the box.
The DVD player was still on, looping the menu screen for *The Wolf Of Wall Street*. I smiled and tapped the player. "Was this illuminating, Mister Crawflame?"
"Quite," said the dragon, in the tone of a beast unused to finding himself pleasantly impressed. "I'm used to my tributes coming to me as meals, or paltry wealth. Not as a means to expand my wealth."
I finished plugging in the computer, and hooked it in to the small generator-gem I'd traded for with a Dwarf. Four cases of craft stout to the cost of a generator had been a profitable deal, and now was the key ingredient for courting my employer's favor.
"We have a saying, give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for life."
"I'm far more partial to cattle," Mister Crawflame said.
"Cattle prices are the first thing we're going to track. With prairie ranchers abutting your land, I can negotiate steerage fees at wholesale prices. Cheap cattle, no legal problems, and once you buy the land, you can simply request the grazing lease value in heads of cattle each year, Mister Crawflame. I've thoroughly investigated the land rights around your territory claim."
The dragon narrowed his eyes at me, and then smiled. "I did some investigations of my own, Princess Beale. I'm given to understand you have misrepresented your royal lineage."
Cards on the table time. I drew myself up, and looked the dragon in the eye, ignoring the quailing icicle of mortal terror that coursed down my back. "I permitted a mistranslation between the Fae tongue and our modern english to present me with a competitive opportunity, sir," I retorted. "There was no equivalent, adequate term for a woman in their tongue, that enjoyed the level of education and acumen that I possess. Since the last time our languages diverged, the mechanism for education have evolved. In the past, a Princess was the closest thing our people, or the Fae, would have a term for a highly educated woman."
Mister Crawflame's head loomed in, his stare hardening, but instead of qualing away I stepped towards him, stiff-backed.
"Mister Crawflame, your language doesn't yet have a term for people like me. We've had to invent new words in just the last two centuries that encompass it. Words of power from *our* lands: PhD. Economics. Harvard graduate *cum laude*."
I was pleased that the words really *did* crackle with power, now.
The dragon stared at me a moment longer, and then began to chuckle. "I know *that*, too," he said. "I was assured by a Fae greatly craven to earn my trust that you had left your prior patron for me, and that your patron was outrageously wealthy."
I inclined my head. "His current personal wealth would exceed your weight in gold six times over, sir," I said respectfully. I gestured to the computer. "But we can take it from him. And much more. Your species understands capitalization and wealth management from birth. There's a gold rush on now, among your kin. Two kirin's already hold the majority of the world's bitcoin. But none of them *yet* have broken into futures and stock exchange. But that's coming."
The dragon nodded smartly. "Then let's get started, Princess Beale."
We shared a smile, and I brought up the New York Stock Exchange. Mister Crawflame's pupils dilated like a cat set upon a bird, as yesterdays' numbers began scrolling by.
"Opening bell's in fifteen minutes."
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I walked out of the old, beaten down factory that I used to work at. I quit because the pay was so bad that I could get more by being unemployed. Doesn't help that 5 days later, the dragons showed up. Almost like it was ripped out of a story book and then added to our "normal" book. Not long after that, the world began practicing magic, as no amount of weaponry could stop the damn things. I began practicing archaic magic, or combat magic. I received a request from a recently imprisoned Fae to release all the Fae inmates that were jailed due to racial prejudices. So, I did it for the measly price I would be payed of 120 pounds. I ran through the compound, shattering guard craniums with lightning ruins and killing golems which were summoned from the more apt guards. I opened various Fae's cages with some arcane mesh that I molded into something that resembled a key. Before I opened the one with my quest-giver, he came. A warden wearing a complete set of Dragon Armor and wielding a rune spear. Dragon Armor is forged using dragon scales and bones. They have the defense of enchanted rock armor, but the flexibility of leather. The rune spear covered head to toe in fire runes which could easily shatter a whole city if put into an arcane reactor. I began by draining the spear of the runes into my own arcane shiv, while trying to dodge his various fireballs. I then proceeded to throw a massive elemental ball at the warden. His armor cracked into thousands of tiny broken and fried scales that are now the color of charcoal. As my throwing knife pierced his chest, so did his life. I opened the final cage and received my reward. That was the last day I decided to quest.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
This sucks, but thank you for taking time to read it.
|
At precisely seven a.m., Eastern Standard Time, I stepped into the dragon's cave.
"Good morning, Mister Crawflame," I called ahead.
One baleful yellow eye cracked open, and the sulphurous smell of his breath washed through the cave, the dragon cracking a wide yawn. I made note of three dental caries, pitted marks in teeth as long as swords, and made a note.
"Good morning, Princess Beale," he replied. "Put the cauldron on, please."
"Right away, Mister Crawflame."
The cauldron was an old Fae thing, or so I presumed. I didn't waste my patron's time with trivial questions. What was important was that at a touch, it heated up, and then filled itself as directed: a rich, bubbling brown brew, redolent of good french-roast columbian.
It had taken all of a *day* for the Fae to discover coffee. It took my friend Samantha a week to go from barista to baroness.
While he took his morning coffee, I cracked open the room-size boxes Dell had shipped us, unpacking a keyboard bigger than my living room at home. The display was next, and then the wand-powered ethernet wi-fi setup that perched itself atop the box.
The DVD player was still on, looping the menu screen for *The Wolf Of Wall Street*. I smiled and tapped the player. "Was this illuminating, Mister Crawflame?"
"Quite," said the dragon, in the tone of a beast unused to finding himself pleasantly impressed. "I'm used to my tributes coming to me as meals, or paltry wealth. Not as a means to expand my wealth."
I finished plugging in the computer, and hooked it in to the small generator-gem I'd traded for with a Dwarf. Four cases of craft stout to the cost of a generator had been a profitable deal, and now was the key ingredient for courting my employer's favor.
"We have a saying, give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for life."
"I'm far more partial to cattle," Mister Crawflame said.
"Cattle prices are the first thing we're going to track. With prairie ranchers abutting your land, I can negotiate steerage fees at wholesale prices. Cheap cattle, no legal problems, and once you buy the land, you can simply request the grazing lease value in heads of cattle each year, Mister Crawflame. I've thoroughly investigated the land rights around your territory claim."
The dragon narrowed his eyes at me, and then smiled. "I did some investigations of my own, Princess Beale. I'm given to understand you have misrepresented your royal lineage."
Cards on the table time. I drew myself up, and looked the dragon in the eye, ignoring the quailing icicle of mortal terror that coursed down my back. "I permitted a mistranslation between the Fae tongue and our modern english to present me with a competitive opportunity, sir," I retorted. "There was no equivalent, adequate term for a woman in their tongue, that enjoyed the level of education and acumen that I possess. Since the last time our languages diverged, the mechanism for education have evolved. In the past, a Princess was the closest thing our people, or the Fae, would have a term for a highly educated woman."
Mister Crawflame's head loomed in, his stare hardening, but instead of qualing away I stepped towards him, stiff-backed.
"Mister Crawflame, your language doesn't yet have a term for people like me. We've had to invent new words in just the last two centuries that encompass it. Words of power from *our* lands: PhD. Economics. Harvard graduate *cum laude*."
I was pleased that the words really *did* crackle with power, now.
The dragon stared at me a moment longer, and then began to chuckle. "I know *that*, too," he said. "I was assured by a Fae greatly craven to earn my trust that you had left your prior patron for me, and that your patron was outrageously wealthy."
I inclined my head. "His current personal wealth would exceed your weight in gold six times over, sir," I said respectfully. I gestured to the computer. "But we can take it from him. And much more. Your species understands capitalization and wealth management from birth. There's a gold rush on now, among your kin. Two kirin's already hold the majority of the world's bitcoin. But none of them *yet* have broken into futures and stock exchange. But that's coming."
The dragon nodded smartly. "Then let's get started, Princess Beale."
We shared a smile, and I brought up the New York Stock Exchange. Mister Crawflame's pupils dilated like a cat set upon a bird, as yesterdays' numbers began scrolling by.
"Opening bell's in fifteen minutes."
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I’d held on to my job longer than most; the goblins that were replacing cashiers around the word tended not to like the wide open areas of the American Midwest, so I didn’t have as much competition for keeping my job. Eventually though, even some goblins came out to my little town, as well as some of the other returned fae that felt more of an affinity of the area, and well, I just wasn’t as good with counting money as they were. I needed the calculator on my phone to calculate sales tax. They could multiple 8 digit numbers together in their head.
So, I started to look into going back to school. Universities were retooling quickly, in the face of the changes that had been wrought on our world by the Return. My alma mater in Rolla had become the Missouri Academy for the Arcane & Technological, or MAAT. Due to the heavy Egyptian themes that they had adopted (I think they were really reaching with their name change), they even had sphinxes and other creatures that had taken residence. It was starting to become a boom town for Egyptian revivalism, all because the avatar of Thoth had returned close by in the town of Cairo, Illinois. Rather an odd fate for a small Missouri town. I was setting my sights a little higher though, the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy. MIT had easily managed to keep its role as the pre-eminent research university in the nation, with brilliant students and researches who had quickly grown to appreciate the impact and importance of the Return and what it brought. It was almost an honor just to have a chance at getting in. Graduating from there would be the golden time let to a life of ease. Certainly a better one than my current, well, previous, life as a Walgreens cashier. Nuclear Engineering degrees weren't in high demand even before, with the presidents moratorium on new plants. And so I sat down to breakfast, MIT's response was waiting for me on the kitchen table.
I trembled slightly as I opened it….. and Yes! I was in. Three lines in “We are happy to accept you to join the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy for the study of the kinetics.” But there was more “… on the condition of you completing a quest studying the magic of the dragon Ainfijar, and returning with a full report on the mechanism behind his magical skills”. I had heard of this dragon. He had located himself near Milwaukee, and was known for his ability to send blasts of air that were somehow self contained until they reached the target. I guess the ability to contain those blasts was the question that MIT wanted to know… Not that I had any idea how I was to approach Ainfijar, let alone study him. He was famously known to be reclusive and rather…. hostile to outside forces that intruded on his solitude.
Further down the page, though, was another note. I would have other candidates coming with me on this quest. One John Rothschild, who was training in pyromancy, a Lydia Johnson, who specialized in smithing and magical defenses, and Skye Greenborough, who was a tracker, and expert in herbal medicine and native healing methods. And a note to meet in the Alpha Brewery in St. Louis in two days, on June 14th at noon, if I was “still interested in accepting the offer”. Fortunately, there wasn’t much I needed to pack.
|
At precisely seven a.m., Eastern Standard Time, I stepped into the dragon's cave.
"Good morning, Mister Crawflame," I called ahead.
One baleful yellow eye cracked open, and the sulphurous smell of his breath washed through the cave, the dragon cracking a wide yawn. I made note of three dental caries, pitted marks in teeth as long as swords, and made a note.
"Good morning, Princess Beale," he replied. "Put the cauldron on, please."
"Right away, Mister Crawflame."
The cauldron was an old Fae thing, or so I presumed. I didn't waste my patron's time with trivial questions. What was important was that at a touch, it heated up, and then filled itself as directed: a rich, bubbling brown brew, redolent of good french-roast columbian.
It had taken all of a *day* for the Fae to discover coffee. It took my friend Samantha a week to go from barista to baroness.
While he took his morning coffee, I cracked open the room-size boxes Dell had shipped us, unpacking a keyboard bigger than my living room at home. The display was next, and then the wand-powered ethernet wi-fi setup that perched itself atop the box.
The DVD player was still on, looping the menu screen for *The Wolf Of Wall Street*. I smiled and tapped the player. "Was this illuminating, Mister Crawflame?"
"Quite," said the dragon, in the tone of a beast unused to finding himself pleasantly impressed. "I'm used to my tributes coming to me as meals, or paltry wealth. Not as a means to expand my wealth."
I finished plugging in the computer, and hooked it in to the small generator-gem I'd traded for with a Dwarf. Four cases of craft stout to the cost of a generator had been a profitable deal, and now was the key ingredient for courting my employer's favor.
"We have a saying, give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for life."
"I'm far more partial to cattle," Mister Crawflame said.
"Cattle prices are the first thing we're going to track. With prairie ranchers abutting your land, I can negotiate steerage fees at wholesale prices. Cheap cattle, no legal problems, and once you buy the land, you can simply request the grazing lease value in heads of cattle each year, Mister Crawflame. I've thoroughly investigated the land rights around your territory claim."
The dragon narrowed his eyes at me, and then smiled. "I did some investigations of my own, Princess Beale. I'm given to understand you have misrepresented your royal lineage."
Cards on the table time. I drew myself up, and looked the dragon in the eye, ignoring the quailing icicle of mortal terror that coursed down my back. "I permitted a mistranslation between the Fae tongue and our modern english to present me with a competitive opportunity, sir," I retorted. "There was no equivalent, adequate term for a woman in their tongue, that enjoyed the level of education and acumen that I possess. Since the last time our languages diverged, the mechanism for education have evolved. In the past, a Princess was the closest thing our people, or the Fae, would have a term for a highly educated woman."
Mister Crawflame's head loomed in, his stare hardening, but instead of qualing away I stepped towards him, stiff-backed.
"Mister Crawflame, your language doesn't yet have a term for people like me. We've had to invent new words in just the last two centuries that encompass it. Words of power from *our* lands: PhD. Economics. Harvard graduate *cum laude*."
I was pleased that the words really *did* crackle with power, now.
The dragon stared at me a moment longer, and then began to chuckle. "I know *that*, too," he said. "I was assured by a Fae greatly craven to earn my trust that you had left your prior patron for me, and that your patron was outrageously wealthy."
I inclined my head. "His current personal wealth would exceed your weight in gold six times over, sir," I said respectfully. I gestured to the computer. "But we can take it from him. And much more. Your species understands capitalization and wealth management from birth. There's a gold rush on now, among your kin. Two kirin's already hold the majority of the world's bitcoin. But none of them *yet* have broken into futures and stock exchange. But that's coming."
The dragon nodded smartly. "Then let's get started, Princess Beale."
We shared a smile, and I brought up the New York Stock Exchange. Mister Crawflame's pupils dilated like a cat set upon a bird, as yesterdays' numbers began scrolling by.
"Opening bell's in fifteen minutes."
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Its been six days. I am cold, hungry, and want to go home.
Oh, and its raining. Did i mention that its raining? It's raining. A miserable light drizzle.
'Simon... Its raining' I say to my brother. 'And it'll be dark soon'
I hate this. Life used to be so simple. Work, T.V, Games repeat. I was comfy. I like being comfy, i had my hair straightener too. My hair goes frizzy in the rain.
So Now i smell like leather, i have blisters on my blisters, and the hair that doesn't stick to my face is a soft tangle of brown frizz.
My older brother, Simon marches on cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the rain.
He's been grinning since we left, singing an on the fly song about going on a quest. I watch his back as he marches on, shield, sword and giant battleaxe clanking as they sway, the rain tinkling of them merrily. Its amazing how fast people adapted. Before the return of the fey, armour shops were few and far between.
Now, there are whole bazaars. You can even buy signs with a big yellow exclamation mark on them, for the modern quest giver on the go i suppose.
I can hear his song on the breeze.
*"May hav'ta go and kill some Dragons.*
Clank, clank.
*Then i may ha'fta go, do me some Swaggin"*
Oh, went with Swaggin' this time. lyrical mastery there. Its good to see him happy though.
Six months ago, my older brother died for a little bit. That's what the doctors told me. i found him, purple and dangling from a beam in the shed.
It was his job i think, I used to imagine him, six and a half feet tall and crammed into a cubicle, answering phones for ten hours a day. He started off with therapy, which immediately led to anti-depressants, which eventually led to my skinny frame supporting well over a hundred kilograms of man with every fibre of being I possessed, Sreaming for help.
He went to hospital, then he went away for a while. 'Just til' i figure my place in the world out, Jess' He would say. He had traded his cubicle for a slightly bigger one, so it would seem.
Then, while he was in there, magic returned. It washed over the civilised world slowly, like a blanket of humility and darkness. A great equaliser. The one percent became people. The sick died. The forests filled with mythical beasts and spirit guardians once more.
People went a bit stupid for a while, because humans are like that.
Then the world settled. Life began again. Then, one morning, Simon returned home. His eyes focused and ablaze with promise. He looked different. It was probably the armour and giant battleaxe.
'I need you to come with me'
'Why?'
'Well, Its dangerous to go alone? here, take this' He said, and handed the sword to me with a grin.
The suburbs were dangerous, and food was scarce. So i wrapped myself in armour, and followed my older brother to wherever he was headed.
Quickly i discovered that I am no warrior. I can barely stand when i hold my shield. I can barely lift my sword, and i'm so tired already.
Lost in my thoughts i bump into Simon. He's like a wall with a beard.
'Alrighty, lets rest here' he says, pointing to a small thicket of trees. He can see i am tired.
He's really good at this. within ten minutes the camp is set. A tarp suspended above keeps us dry, and a fire crackles merrily.
Its a pleasure to take this leather armour off. Its soaked, squashes my boobs, and it rubs me raw under the arms. From my backpack i pull out my bathrobe, its hooded, and midnight black. Before the Fey, i basically lived in it when i could.
I huddle it around me. At least ill be dry soon, but i really should have brought my hairbrush. I miss showers. and baths. and shampoo. Is it too much to ask to smell nice?
'Damn the fey, and damn the damned dragons... I miss... everything.' The words march through my mouth. 'I shouldn't be here, Simon'
Simon throws more wood on the fire. 'What would you have done hey? if i hadn't come back for you'
'I dunno, i would've...' I trail off. What would i have done?
'Died, or worse. Adelaide was headed to shit, and slavers would have got you. That's what would have happened. You can't defend yourself yet, and you would have died because this world, this new world isn't for you.' he pauses and looks up at the sky, and its exceptionally visible stars. 'I know what its like not fitting into a world. Not belonging. I only survived the last world because i had help'
We fall silent. This is something we have talked about, buried, and don't speak of.
'Ill try' I say weakly.
'Just remember, in the darkness you make your own light. Be strong' With that he lays on his sleeping bag, still fully armoured.
'K, Simon.'
'We'll do a bit of training tomorrow, your sword strokes are really coming along' He lies cheerfully.
I would use the term "Swings like a girl" but i have seen some of the Women warriors getting around - and they could punch a house brick into dust.
'Are we really going to kill goblins tomorrow?' i ask anxiously.
'Yup, don't worry, they're more of a pest than a threat, just keep your eyes and throat covered, yeah?, and its worth some gold to us, and we need the money.
That night, I sleep fitfully. Anxiously dreaming of goblins and darkness. I awake with a start. a knife is pressed to my throat.
In the light of a quiet fire, my vision is filled with a grimy man, wickedness reflects from his eyes. "Shhhhhh" he says. His breath stinks of booze and decay. 'Avin' a nightmare were we? Ooooh, we're gonna have some fun with you my lovely' He says. Its terrifying. I freeze. I can feel his tongue on my neck. Simon is still asleep. two figures creep up on him. knives drawn.
I struggle, and he chuckles softly. 'Hold still girlie, you'll like it' Booze, decay. Evil.
Then... I feel it stir. It feels like the beginnings of a laugh. It bubbles up from inside... a welling... All the rage. all the fear, all the helplessness. churns through me. Time slows.
Life could be so unfair. Two people, trying to find their way in the world, about to be killed for no damn reason.
No. Not today.
I raised my hand and am surprised to see it sheathed in lightning. There is a look of panic on the bandits face.
It's the most primal feeling of self righteous *Hatred* I can muster. I push my palm against his face and let it flow through me. The crack of the lightning is deafening. In the dim light I see Simon's eyes open. There is a brief rain of ash and skull fragments. I push the corpse off of me, pushing aside revulsion for later.
Simon roars and stands like an avatar of righteous vengeance. I have never seen him fight before. He's like a demon. He cleaves through one, leaving his his axe buried in his rib-cage. then draws his sword. Stalking his prey. who turns to flee.
I scowl and point a finger at the fleeing man "Stop" i say softly, feeling invisible threads tangle around him. He stops. Paralysed.
'Please sir, have mercy...' He pleads, struggling against invisible bindings.
Simon is angry. One meaty hand slams the paralysed man up against a tree by the throat.
'So... this mercy then... where was this mercy when you were going to knife me to death? or selling my Sister to slavery? make some money of an entire life of misery were you? that's the problem with you bastards, always using the good nature of people against them. No, people like you invented mercy to stop people like me killing you when you're finally caught.'
'What do you think, Jess?' Simon asks.
I say nothing. i bury my sword in the mans neck. I watch him die. I don't feel the least bit bad at all.
Simon shrugs. He is an uncomplicated man.
Silently we loot the men, taking their small arms and any coin they may have. Its actually pretty lucrative.
We take our camp with us, its easier than burying corpses. I still wear my bathrobe. I quickly figure out a minor shield spell that keeps the rain off, and i hold it with only a fragment of concentration. it's giddying how easy this magic stuff is. Oh, and have you ever seen rain running along a forcefield? Its beautiful. Simon uses it to fill out canteens up, he's practical like that.
'You okay?' He finally asks as we set up our new camp an hour or so later.
I nod, I feel the best i have since the returning of the fey. 'you know something? I don't think i want to kill goblins.'
'No? Well... if you don't want to kill things I suppose we could guard caravans, the moneys not too bad. pretty boring though'
'I want to kill bandits.' I say with finality. I can still feel the tongue on my neck. I shiver. the anger returns. 'And slavers.'
Simon pauses for thought stroking his beard. 'Bandit dens have lots more than the few we took out, you know.'
'Simon, in the old world i always felt so... powerless. Evil had won. They had all the cards, all the money. No responsibility for their actions... They had power. Here, We are equals... And i'm going to make light in the darkness, And It will be with fire and destruction i shall make it. These evil folk, I want their dreams haunted by the visions of the destruction that will find them'
Simon nods. He is an uncomplicated man, and I think he's in it for the axe swinging, mostly. 'Sounds good Jess'
Heading south, we walked past the abandoned cars as they sat and rusted. there seemed to be a lot more animals around lately, and forests too, trees grew alarmingly fast now. The sun peeked out, it was a beautiful day after all, and my new healing spell works wonders on blisters.
Spring in step, Free from cubicles, beginning a war against those who would enslave good people. A perfect way to spend a life, in one man's humble opinion.
Simon began to sing. His lyrics needed work, but it was good to see him happy.
*Gonna Go stomp, Some serious bandit*
*Don't ask me why, my mage-sister Planned it*
Its been eight days.
Two since i harnessed the power.
And to those who would do the good folk harm,
Your days are numbered.
|
At precisely seven a.m., Eastern Standard Time, I stepped into the dragon's cave.
"Good morning, Mister Crawflame," I called ahead.
One baleful yellow eye cracked open, and the sulphurous smell of his breath washed through the cave, the dragon cracking a wide yawn. I made note of three dental caries, pitted marks in teeth as long as swords, and made a note.
"Good morning, Princess Beale," he replied. "Put the cauldron on, please."
"Right away, Mister Crawflame."
The cauldron was an old Fae thing, or so I presumed. I didn't waste my patron's time with trivial questions. What was important was that at a touch, it heated up, and then filled itself as directed: a rich, bubbling brown brew, redolent of good french-roast columbian.
It had taken all of a *day* for the Fae to discover coffee. It took my friend Samantha a week to go from barista to baroness.
While he took his morning coffee, I cracked open the room-size boxes Dell had shipped us, unpacking a keyboard bigger than my living room at home. The display was next, and then the wand-powered ethernet wi-fi setup that perched itself atop the box.
The DVD player was still on, looping the menu screen for *The Wolf Of Wall Street*. I smiled and tapped the player. "Was this illuminating, Mister Crawflame?"
"Quite," said the dragon, in the tone of a beast unused to finding himself pleasantly impressed. "I'm used to my tributes coming to me as meals, or paltry wealth. Not as a means to expand my wealth."
I finished plugging in the computer, and hooked it in to the small generator-gem I'd traded for with a Dwarf. Four cases of craft stout to the cost of a generator had been a profitable deal, and now was the key ingredient for courting my employer's favor.
"We have a saying, give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, he can feed himself for life."
"I'm far more partial to cattle," Mister Crawflame said.
"Cattle prices are the first thing we're going to track. With prairie ranchers abutting your land, I can negotiate steerage fees at wholesale prices. Cheap cattle, no legal problems, and once you buy the land, you can simply request the grazing lease value in heads of cattle each year, Mister Crawflame. I've thoroughly investigated the land rights around your territory claim."
The dragon narrowed his eyes at me, and then smiled. "I did some investigations of my own, Princess Beale. I'm given to understand you have misrepresented your royal lineage."
Cards on the table time. I drew myself up, and looked the dragon in the eye, ignoring the quailing icicle of mortal terror that coursed down my back. "I permitted a mistranslation between the Fae tongue and our modern english to present me with a competitive opportunity, sir," I retorted. "There was no equivalent, adequate term for a woman in their tongue, that enjoyed the level of education and acumen that I possess. Since the last time our languages diverged, the mechanism for education have evolved. In the past, a Princess was the closest thing our people, or the Fae, would have a term for a highly educated woman."
Mister Crawflame's head loomed in, his stare hardening, but instead of qualing away I stepped towards him, stiff-backed.
"Mister Crawflame, your language doesn't yet have a term for people like me. We've had to invent new words in just the last two centuries that encompass it. Words of power from *our* lands: PhD. Economics. Harvard graduate *cum laude*."
I was pleased that the words really *did* crackle with power, now.
The dragon stared at me a moment longer, and then began to chuckle. "I know *that*, too," he said. "I was assured by a Fae greatly craven to earn my trust that you had left your prior patron for me, and that your patron was outrageously wealthy."
I inclined my head. "His current personal wealth would exceed your weight in gold six times over, sir," I said respectfully. I gestured to the computer. "But we can take it from him. And much more. Your species understands capitalization and wealth management from birth. There's a gold rush on now, among your kin. Two kirin's already hold the majority of the world's bitcoin. But none of them *yet* have broken into futures and stock exchange. But that's coming."
The dragon nodded smartly. "Then let's get started, Princess Beale."
We shared a smile, and I brought up the New York Stock Exchange. Mister Crawflame's pupils dilated like a cat set upon a bird, as yesterdays' numbers began scrolling by.
"Opening bell's in fifteen minutes."
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I’d held on to my job longer than most; the goblins that were replacing cashiers around the word tended not to like the wide open areas of the American Midwest, so I didn’t have as much competition for keeping my job. Eventually though, even some goblins came out to my little town, as well as some of the other returned fae that felt more of an affinity of the area, and well, I just wasn’t as good with counting money as they were. I needed the calculator on my phone to calculate sales tax. They could multiple 8 digit numbers together in their head.
So, I started to look into going back to school. Universities were retooling quickly, in the face of the changes that had been wrought on our world by the Return. My alma mater in Rolla had become the Missouri Academy for the Arcane & Technological, or MAAT. Due to the heavy Egyptian themes that they had adopted (I think they were really reaching with their name change), they even had sphinxes and other creatures that had taken residence. It was starting to become a boom town for Egyptian revivalism, all because the avatar of Thoth had returned close by in the town of Cairo, Illinois. Rather an odd fate for a small Missouri town. I was setting my sights a little higher though, the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy. MIT had easily managed to keep its role as the pre-eminent research university in the nation, with brilliant students and researches who had quickly grown to appreciate the impact and importance of the Return and what it brought. It was almost an honor just to have a chance at getting in. Graduating from there would be the golden time let to a life of ease. Certainly a better one than my current, well, previous, life as a Walgreens cashier. Nuclear Engineering degrees weren't in high demand even before, with the presidents moratorium on new plants. And so I sat down to breakfast, MIT's response was waiting for me on the kitchen table.
I trembled slightly as I opened it….. and Yes! I was in. Three lines in “We are happy to accept you to join the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy for the study of the kinetics.” But there was more “… on the condition of you completing a quest studying the magic of the dragon Ainfijar, and returning with a full report on the mechanism behind his magical skills”. I had heard of this dragon. He had located himself near Milwaukee, and was known for his ability to send blasts of air that were somehow self contained until they reached the target. I guess the ability to contain those blasts was the question that MIT wanted to know… Not that I had any idea how I was to approach Ainfijar, let alone study him. He was famously known to be reclusive and rather…. hostile to outside forces that intruded on his solitude.
Further down the page, though, was another note. I would have other candidates coming with me on this quest. One John Rothschild, who was training in pyromancy, a Lydia Johnson, who specialized in smithing and magical defenses, and Skye Greenborough, who was a tracker, and expert in herbal medicine and native healing methods. And a note to meet in the Alpha Brewery in St. Louis in two days, on June 14th at noon, if I was “still interested in accepting the offer”. Fortunately, there wasn’t much I needed to pack.
|
I had been a child with high hopes for the world, but as the adults succeeded in killing the 'magic' of it I had decided that pessimism was the only fair light to see watch the world in.
I was a disillusioned teen when they returned.
At first, it was another Bigfoot story, a few hazy pictures and a madman in the mountains. Then the first official military contact. Then, the global realisation. Dragons were real. And quite more reasonable than we had been led to believe through fiction.
It seems that the last time our kind had seen theirs, the knights of eld had declared war on Dragonkind. In return, they had simply gone to sleep and sealed off their mountain homes until a more favorable time came, taking all memory of their existence with them.
And once the ice melted in a particularly warm spring season, they left to hunt and forage as they once had. And they found a world changed, a race reborn and unified, lands exploited through science and agriculture and, most importantly, all devoid of magic.
Once first military contact in the Swiss alps turned out as a spectacular defeat for the United Nations, a peace council was formed. Though dragons may have spoken a tongue far older than human writing, they had a way to directly infer meaning to the mind.
This made peace talks go rather swiftly; the dragons had no intention for war, merely coexistence. Paper was signed, and for the first time in centuries, humans made a Pact with the dragons.
Do mind, however: this was no mere agreement, the dragons sealed a magical contact with the humans that day. For keeping the peace and not hunting their kind as humanity apparently had before, the dragons would start the regeneration of the land and it's inherent powers.
Magic, The Life of The Land, Aether, call it whatever you'd like, but it returned to the lands, and the dragons taught select few on how to utilize it. These select few taught others, and soon, through the miracles of the internet, everyone could learn any magic they wanted.
This, of course, enormously and grandiosely backfired.
After the initial chaos had been quelled by those not wanting to see the world fought over by the inherently malicious and greedy, the learning of magic was regulated. Any source of arcane knowledge was purged from the internet. Offensive magic was only to be taught to adults whom had been tested for fatal character flaws and moral ambiguity. Defensive spells became a part of mandatory curriculum for most education. And so on, and so on.
The dragons, satisfied with their work and the upkeep of The Pact, roamed the land freely and made residence wherever they were welcome, which was basically everywhere, since humans were still enamoured with them.
As the land healed, the hidden races of the land started showing themselves more and more, the divergent varieties of the fae folk, elemental varieties of ordinary species, immortal Phoenix, hell, even centaurs had come out of hiding. Most of these started (or inferred) their reason for coming out of hiding to be 'The old ones', as was how they referred to the dragons.
Humanity has had a busy 5 years, after which war and territory seemed to matter less than before. We were no longer adversaries, we were all explorers of the new, untested waters the dragons had left for us to learn on our own.
Skip ahead another 5 years, and here I am. I am a rookie apprentice to the house of Lestrallum, one of the five largest magic academia of London. I had earned a level 2 diploma in healing magic, level 3 in defensive magic, level 1 offensive and level 4 in arcane fundamentals. I had had an ordinary accounting job to cover the first few bills, but my healing was thorough, and sought after anywhere I went.
I have been sent out to receive my first local Quest in a region chosen to challenge me on the bases I was weakest in. I had been sent to the newly-rejuvenating Saharan grasslands, to aid the local population through the Quest I was to receive.
A Quest was no mere request made by local farmhands, Quests are a form of magical contracts directly taught to us by the dragons. Every community had a local quest-managing committee, made up of community representatives to make the upper-level decisions, and quest givers, those whom would distribute, initiate, assess and manage individual quests up to their completion, and see to the issuing of completion rewards.
My trek through the grassy hills allowed me the peace of mind to expand my consciousness past arcane boundaries at times. So it was that I was able to listen to the Dragonsong; an arcane frequency, only able to be 'heard' with enough arcane foreknowledge and resolution.
Dragons, throughout their waking lives, contribute their voices to this Dragonsong, shaping it's overall tone and melody, as a type of global unconscious. Though a single dragon 'singing' may not sound like anything humans would ordinarily describe as melodious, the Dragonsong is beautiful and tells news of far away events aswell as the state of the world at large.
Today, it tells of calm winds and fair skies, an overall sense of peace in its tone, yet it's rhythm telling of the myriad gears underneath, quickly turning in sync symbolizing everyone's hard work to keep the peace.
I'm snapped out of my reverie as I spot what has to be my quest-giver up on the next hill, waiting by the river, talking to another adventurer. I quicken my pace as I walk towards my own task necessary to keep the peace in this region.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Look, I'm tired and I wrote a lot already, I'm ending it here for now, but I may return to it tomorrow morning. Yes, I know the end is crappy and there's prolly tons of mistakes. It's 2am here, cut me some slack.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Its been six days. I am cold, hungry, and want to go home.
Oh, and its raining. Did i mention that its raining? It's raining. A miserable light drizzle.
'Simon... Its raining' I say to my brother. 'And it'll be dark soon'
I hate this. Life used to be so simple. Work, T.V, Games repeat. I was comfy. I like being comfy, i had my hair straightener too. My hair goes frizzy in the rain.
So Now i smell like leather, i have blisters on my blisters, and the hair that doesn't stick to my face is a soft tangle of brown frizz.
My older brother, Simon marches on cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the rain.
He's been grinning since we left, singing an on the fly song about going on a quest. I watch his back as he marches on, shield, sword and giant battleaxe clanking as they sway, the rain tinkling of them merrily. Its amazing how fast people adapted. Before the return of the fey, armour shops were few and far between.
Now, there are whole bazaars. You can even buy signs with a big yellow exclamation mark on them, for the modern quest giver on the go i suppose.
I can hear his song on the breeze.
*"May hav'ta go and kill some Dragons.*
Clank, clank.
*Then i may ha'fta go, do me some Swaggin"*
Oh, went with Swaggin' this time. lyrical mastery there. Its good to see him happy though.
Six months ago, my older brother died for a little bit. That's what the doctors told me. i found him, purple and dangling from a beam in the shed.
It was his job i think, I used to imagine him, six and a half feet tall and crammed into a cubicle, answering phones for ten hours a day. He started off with therapy, which immediately led to anti-depressants, which eventually led to my skinny frame supporting well over a hundred kilograms of man with every fibre of being I possessed, Sreaming for help.
He went to hospital, then he went away for a while. 'Just til' i figure my place in the world out, Jess' He would say. He had traded his cubicle for a slightly bigger one, so it would seem.
Then, while he was in there, magic returned. It washed over the civilised world slowly, like a blanket of humility and darkness. A great equaliser. The one percent became people. The sick died. The forests filled with mythical beasts and spirit guardians once more.
People went a bit stupid for a while, because humans are like that.
Then the world settled. Life began again. Then, one morning, Simon returned home. His eyes focused and ablaze with promise. He looked different. It was probably the armour and giant battleaxe.
'I need you to come with me'
'Why?'
'Well, Its dangerous to go alone? here, take this' He said, and handed the sword to me with a grin.
The suburbs were dangerous, and food was scarce. So i wrapped myself in armour, and followed my older brother to wherever he was headed.
Quickly i discovered that I am no warrior. I can barely stand when i hold my shield. I can barely lift my sword, and i'm so tired already.
Lost in my thoughts i bump into Simon. He's like a wall with a beard.
'Alrighty, lets rest here' he says, pointing to a small thicket of trees. He can see i am tired.
He's really good at this. within ten minutes the camp is set. A tarp suspended above keeps us dry, and a fire crackles merrily.
Its a pleasure to take this leather armour off. Its soaked, squashes my boobs, and it rubs me raw under the arms. From my backpack i pull out my bathrobe, its hooded, and midnight black. Before the Fey, i basically lived in it when i could.
I huddle it around me. At least ill be dry soon, but i really should have brought my hairbrush. I miss showers. and baths. and shampoo. Is it too much to ask to smell nice?
'Damn the fey, and damn the damned dragons... I miss... everything.' The words march through my mouth. 'I shouldn't be here, Simon'
Simon throws more wood on the fire. 'What would you have done hey? if i hadn't come back for you'
'I dunno, i would've...' I trail off. What would i have done?
'Died, or worse. Adelaide was headed to shit, and slavers would have got you. That's what would have happened. You can't defend yourself yet, and you would have died because this world, this new world isn't for you.' he pauses and looks up at the sky, and its exceptionally visible stars. 'I know what its like not fitting into a world. Not belonging. I only survived the last world because i had help'
We fall silent. This is something we have talked about, buried, and don't speak of.
'Ill try' I say weakly.
'Just remember, in the darkness you make your own light. Be strong' With that he lays on his sleeping bag, still fully armoured.
'K, Simon.'
'We'll do a bit of training tomorrow, your sword strokes are really coming along' He lies cheerfully.
I would use the term "Swings like a girl" but i have seen some of the Women warriors getting around - and they could punch a house brick into dust.
'Are we really going to kill goblins tomorrow?' i ask anxiously.
'Yup, don't worry, they're more of a pest than a threat, just keep your eyes and throat covered, yeah?, and its worth some gold to us, and we need the money.
That night, I sleep fitfully. Anxiously dreaming of goblins and darkness. I awake with a start. a knife is pressed to my throat.
In the light of a quiet fire, my vision is filled with a grimy man, wickedness reflects from his eyes. "Shhhhhh" he says. His breath stinks of booze and decay. 'Avin' a nightmare were we? Ooooh, we're gonna have some fun with you my lovely' He says. Its terrifying. I freeze. I can feel his tongue on my neck. Simon is still asleep. two figures creep up on him. knives drawn.
I struggle, and he chuckles softly. 'Hold still girlie, you'll like it' Booze, decay. Evil.
Then... I feel it stir. It feels like the beginnings of a laugh. It bubbles up from inside... a welling... All the rage. all the fear, all the helplessness. churns through me. Time slows.
Life could be so unfair. Two people, trying to find their way in the world, about to be killed for no damn reason.
No. Not today.
I raised my hand and am surprised to see it sheathed in lightning. There is a look of panic on the bandits face.
It's the most primal feeling of self righteous *Hatred* I can muster. I push my palm against his face and let it flow through me. The crack of the lightning is deafening. In the dim light I see Simon's eyes open. There is a brief rain of ash and skull fragments. I push the corpse off of me, pushing aside revulsion for later.
Simon roars and stands like an avatar of righteous vengeance. I have never seen him fight before. He's like a demon. He cleaves through one, leaving his his axe buried in his rib-cage. then draws his sword. Stalking his prey. who turns to flee.
I scowl and point a finger at the fleeing man "Stop" i say softly, feeling invisible threads tangle around him. He stops. Paralysed.
'Please sir, have mercy...' He pleads, struggling against invisible bindings.
Simon is angry. One meaty hand slams the paralysed man up against a tree by the throat.
'So... this mercy then... where was this mercy when you were going to knife me to death? or selling my Sister to slavery? make some money of an entire life of misery were you? that's the problem with you bastards, always using the good nature of people against them. No, people like you invented mercy to stop people like me killing you when you're finally caught.'
'What do you think, Jess?' Simon asks.
I say nothing. i bury my sword in the mans neck. I watch him die. I don't feel the least bit bad at all.
Simon shrugs. He is an uncomplicated man.
Silently we loot the men, taking their small arms and any coin they may have. Its actually pretty lucrative.
We take our camp with us, its easier than burying corpses. I still wear my bathrobe. I quickly figure out a minor shield spell that keeps the rain off, and i hold it with only a fragment of concentration. it's giddying how easy this magic stuff is. Oh, and have you ever seen rain running along a forcefield? Its beautiful. Simon uses it to fill out canteens up, he's practical like that.
'You okay?' He finally asks as we set up our new camp an hour or so later.
I nod, I feel the best i have since the returning of the fey. 'you know something? I don't think i want to kill goblins.'
'No? Well... if you don't want to kill things I suppose we could guard caravans, the moneys not too bad. pretty boring though'
'I want to kill bandits.' I say with finality. I can still feel the tongue on my neck. I shiver. the anger returns. 'And slavers.'
Simon pauses for thought stroking his beard. 'Bandit dens have lots more than the few we took out, you know.'
'Simon, in the old world i always felt so... powerless. Evil had won. They had all the cards, all the money. No responsibility for their actions... They had power. Here, We are equals... And i'm going to make light in the darkness, And It will be with fire and destruction i shall make it. These evil folk, I want their dreams haunted by the visions of the destruction that will find them'
Simon nods. He is an uncomplicated man, and I think he's in it for the axe swinging, mostly. 'Sounds good Jess'
Heading south, we walked past the abandoned cars as they sat and rusted. there seemed to be a lot more animals around lately, and forests too, trees grew alarmingly fast now. The sun peeked out, it was a beautiful day after all, and my new healing spell works wonders on blisters.
Spring in step, Free from cubicles, beginning a war against those who would enslave good people. A perfect way to spend a life, in one man's humble opinion.
Simon began to sing. His lyrics needed work, but it was good to see him happy.
*Gonna Go stomp, Some serious bandit*
*Don't ask me why, my mage-sister Planned it*
Its been eight days.
Two since i harnessed the power.
And to those who would do the good folk harm,
Your days are numbered.
|
I had been a child with high hopes for the world, but as the adults succeeded in killing the 'magic' of it I had decided that pessimism was the only fair light to see watch the world in.
I was a disillusioned teen when they returned.
At first, it was another Bigfoot story, a few hazy pictures and a madman in the mountains. Then the first official military contact. Then, the global realisation. Dragons were real. And quite more reasonable than we had been led to believe through fiction.
It seems that the last time our kind had seen theirs, the knights of eld had declared war on Dragonkind. In return, they had simply gone to sleep and sealed off their mountain homes until a more favorable time came, taking all memory of their existence with them.
And once the ice melted in a particularly warm spring season, they left to hunt and forage as they once had. And they found a world changed, a race reborn and unified, lands exploited through science and agriculture and, most importantly, all devoid of magic.
Once first military contact in the Swiss alps turned out as a spectacular defeat for the United Nations, a peace council was formed. Though dragons may have spoken a tongue far older than human writing, they had a way to directly infer meaning to the mind.
This made peace talks go rather swiftly; the dragons had no intention for war, merely coexistence. Paper was signed, and for the first time in centuries, humans made a Pact with the dragons.
Do mind, however: this was no mere agreement, the dragons sealed a magical contact with the humans that day. For keeping the peace and not hunting their kind as humanity apparently had before, the dragons would start the regeneration of the land and it's inherent powers.
Magic, The Life of The Land, Aether, call it whatever you'd like, but it returned to the lands, and the dragons taught select few on how to utilize it. These select few taught others, and soon, through the miracles of the internet, everyone could learn any magic they wanted.
This, of course, enormously and grandiosely backfired.
After the initial chaos had been quelled by those not wanting to see the world fought over by the inherently malicious and greedy, the learning of magic was regulated. Any source of arcane knowledge was purged from the internet. Offensive magic was only to be taught to adults whom had been tested for fatal character flaws and moral ambiguity. Defensive spells became a part of mandatory curriculum for most education. And so on, and so on.
The dragons, satisfied with their work and the upkeep of The Pact, roamed the land freely and made residence wherever they were welcome, which was basically everywhere, since humans were still enamoured with them.
As the land healed, the hidden races of the land started showing themselves more and more, the divergent varieties of the fae folk, elemental varieties of ordinary species, immortal Phoenix, hell, even centaurs had come out of hiding. Most of these started (or inferred) their reason for coming out of hiding to be 'The old ones', as was how they referred to the dragons.
Humanity has had a busy 5 years, after which war and territory seemed to matter less than before. We were no longer adversaries, we were all explorers of the new, untested waters the dragons had left for us to learn on our own.
Skip ahead another 5 years, and here I am. I am a rookie apprentice to the house of Lestrallum, one of the five largest magic academia of London. I had earned a level 2 diploma in healing magic, level 3 in defensive magic, level 1 offensive and level 4 in arcane fundamentals. I had had an ordinary accounting job to cover the first few bills, but my healing was thorough, and sought after anywhere I went.
I have been sent out to receive my first local Quest in a region chosen to challenge me on the bases I was weakest in. I had been sent to the newly-rejuvenating Saharan grasslands, to aid the local population through the Quest I was to receive.
A Quest was no mere request made by local farmhands, Quests are a form of magical contracts directly taught to us by the dragons. Every community had a local quest-managing committee, made up of community representatives to make the upper-level decisions, and quest givers, those whom would distribute, initiate, assess and manage individual quests up to their completion, and see to the issuing of completion rewards.
My trek through the grassy hills allowed me the peace of mind to expand my consciousness past arcane boundaries at times. So it was that I was able to listen to the Dragonsong; an arcane frequency, only able to be 'heard' with enough arcane foreknowledge and resolution.
Dragons, throughout their waking lives, contribute their voices to this Dragonsong, shaping it's overall tone and melody, as a type of global unconscious. Though a single dragon 'singing' may not sound like anything humans would ordinarily describe as melodious, the Dragonsong is beautiful and tells news of far away events aswell as the state of the world at large.
Today, it tells of calm winds and fair skies, an overall sense of peace in its tone, yet it's rhythm telling of the myriad gears underneath, quickly turning in sync symbolizing everyone's hard work to keep the peace.
I'm snapped out of my reverie as I spot what has to be my quest-giver up on the next hill, waiting by the river, talking to another adventurer. I quicken my pace as I walk towards my own task necessary to keep the peace in this region.
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
Look, I'm tired and I wrote a lot already, I'm ending it here for now, but I may return to it tomorrow morning. Yes, I know the end is crappy and there's prolly tons of mistakes. It's 2am here, cut me some slack.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I’d held on to my job longer than most; the goblins that were replacing cashiers around the word tended not to like the wide open areas of the American Midwest, so I didn’t have as much competition for keeping my job. Eventually though, even some goblins came out to my little town, as well as some of the other returned fae that felt more of an affinity of the area, and well, I just wasn’t as good with counting money as they were. I needed the calculator on my phone to calculate sales tax. They could multiple 8 digit numbers together in their head.
So, I started to look into going back to school. Universities were retooling quickly, in the face of the changes that had been wrought on our world by the Return. My alma mater in Rolla had become the Missouri Academy for the Arcane & Technological, or MAAT. Due to the heavy Egyptian themes that they had adopted (I think they were really reaching with their name change), they even had sphinxes and other creatures that had taken residence. It was starting to become a boom town for Egyptian revivalism, all because the avatar of Thoth had returned close by in the town of Cairo, Illinois. Rather an odd fate for a small Missouri town. I was setting my sights a little higher though, the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy. MIT had easily managed to keep its role as the pre-eminent research university in the nation, with brilliant students and researches who had quickly grown to appreciate the impact and importance of the Return and what it brought. It was almost an honor just to have a chance at getting in. Graduating from there would be the golden time let to a life of ease. Certainly a better one than my current, well, previous, life as a Walgreens cashier. Nuclear Engineering degrees weren't in high demand even before, with the presidents moratorium on new plants. And so I sat down to breakfast, MIT's response was waiting for me on the kitchen table.
I trembled slightly as I opened it….. and Yes! I was in. Three lines in “We are happy to accept you to join the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy for the study of the kinetics.” But there was more “… on the condition of you completing a quest studying the magic of the dragon Ainfijar, and returning with a full report on the mechanism behind his magical skills”. I had heard of this dragon. He had located himself near Milwaukee, and was known for his ability to send blasts of air that were somehow self contained until they reached the target. I guess the ability to contain those blasts was the question that MIT wanted to know… Not that I had any idea how I was to approach Ainfijar, let alone study him. He was famously known to be reclusive and rather…. hostile to outside forces that intruded on his solitude.
Further down the page, though, was another note. I would have other candidates coming with me on this quest. One John Rothschild, who was training in pyromancy, a Lydia Johnson, who specialized in smithing and magical defenses, and Skye Greenborough, who was a tracker, and expert in herbal medicine and native healing methods. And a note to meet in the Alpha Brewery in St. Louis in two days, on June 14th at noon, if I was “still interested in accepting the offer”. Fortunately, there wasn’t much I needed to pack.
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I’m a tinkerer. I find things, and I fix them. Sometimes I even make things with spare parts lying around. It’s simple and I love it.
So I was really pissed when electricity was completely replaced by magic.
Nobody saw it coming, from NASA to the most radical conspiracy theorists. When dragons showed up, I’m sure everyone pinched themselves. When children began throwing things around rooms without touching them and seemingly random people were able to conjure a flame in their palm, we became paranoid. Isolationist. The world truly became every man for themselves, and the beasts of the Fae were overrunning the towns that were once lit by the lights of society.
I developed powers, too. And I couldn’t have wished for anything more useful. I could take a good look at an abject and just know how it was made. Doesn’t matter what, whether it’s natural or artificial. If I picked up an old piece of tech I could see it’s blueprints. If I picked up a rock I could see a volcanic eruption. And I knew how I’d be able to assemble them.
I happened across a military bunker during my evacuation. Fate, luck, I couldn’t care less by that point. Abandoned, but still stocked full. Since the power went out all security has been lifted. Everything from bombs to blades was stored here. And as I browsed it, I realised much of it didn’t need electricity.
So I stayed. And I found the secrets of the weapons. I made more. Soon I was ready to take back my town. I was ready for a quest, one that I’d unknowingly spent my whole life preparing for.
I immediately found a dragon circling above my old bank. It’s roar echoed through the streets. But it expected magic and beasts, the weapons of it’s own universe.
It did not expect a rocket propelled grenade.
I learned many things on my first quest. Most beasts are lightly protected and will be slain by a single burst from my trusty rifle. Some need a little more kick, which a sniper rifle can certainly provide. And for others you just have to blown them the fuck up. I freed my town from the grip of these creatures, and travelled back to my bunker with a smile on my face.
Technology hadn’t failed us yet.
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