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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.	First contact was made almost ten years ago. They seemed well versed in warfare, in less than a day there wasn't a satellite left in the sky or a cable under the sea. Communication between nations fell to old ground bounce long range radios pulled out of mothballs. Conventional weapons proved to be ineffective and the nuclear option didn't fare much better. Eventually even the old analog radios where jammed. Steadily they started to wipe us out. Great mechanized beasts roamed the land, directed energy weapons reduced any caught in there sight to ash. Slowly word began to spread of old legends come to light. Wizards, witches even warlocks making pacts with demons to gain power. Men and women alike where seen calling fourth searing bolts of lighting from the sky. Ripping the ground open to devour and crush any of the aliens creations that wandered to close to the last bastions of humanity. Liquefying the great metal monsters with conjured fire. Even death was no relief to our fallen comrades as the necromancers raised forth gargantuan armies of the dead. Crushing the invaders with the sheer mass of rotting meat and gleaming bone. As our species continued to fight for our existence more of the things that go bump in the night started coming to light. At first they appeared to be fellow humans but it soon became clear that was not the case. The first were the Werewolves, nigh unkillable but by blessed silver. Transforming into great beasts they used claws and teeth to rend through armor only magic could penetrate. These furry juggernauts relied on humans not for food as in the old tales but as breeding stock. As we continued to dwindle in number they could no longer stalk the shadows. Though small in numbers they made up for it in shear brutality. Soon all of the others concealed in the shadows made themselves known. The vampires where less well received than the wolves but in the end they needed us. Becoming a donor for one elevated ones physically abilities for a time. Though to somes disappointment, crosses, sunlight and garlic did not faze them. The Fae became another ally though much less trustful, one had to be cautious when speaking with them. Never make an open ended bargain with one, it never ends in your favor. Whatever the invaders mechanized army consisted of it was not iron and they seemed to take much glee in the wanton destruction they could wield. Many hopped the elves and dwarves of some fairy tales would come to be but to this day none have materialized. Though the dragons made there presence known they more are focused on what little territory they still held and if you happen to occupy it you have one hell of a home security system. Rumblings of the old gods walking among man once more have been heard but not verified. As of now hope has yet to completely die for humanity and its newly rediscovered allies. While the dragons and invaders still rule the skies we have done much to retake the land. The current status of humanity as a whole is still not truly known, while magic is useful as a weapons it does not give it self over willingly to be used to pass missives. Communication over the oceans and across continents is still a slow process and we are just starting to retake the seas. -Field Commander, 3rd Magus Division, Capt Jasper D. Wulf	"Hang on, so there's some fixed amount of power and it's divided equally among all humans?" "Yep." "And you, a strange alien creature, have culled the human population in order to increase the power granted to any one individual?" "Exactly. Do you want to try out your new powers?" "I've a few questions first actually -- as a more advanced intelligence you're certainly aware of evolution, of the fact that all life forms here on earth share a common ancestor, of the fact that distinct species arise by a process of natural selection, where only those which adapt best to their environment survive?" "Go on..." "And you're telling me that the human species possess some special access to magical powers, with the magnitude of each individual's access _depending explicitly on the number of other alive humans_? "Yeah. Is there a problem?" "You bet there's a problem. What we call human life is unavoidably arbitrary. If we draw up the family tree showing the ancestry of all humans, at some point we make it back to some gross slime that definitely isn't human, and so at some point between today and whenever the slime was around we need to choose some generation and say 'Ok, after this we're human'. Maybe before we were neanderthal, or what have you, but neanderthal is just a label we made up too, every species is. You're telling me that whether or not an organism is labeled human actually has (1) some effect on the organism, and, worse, (2) some effect on every other organism we call human. But as I've argued, these labels are completely arbitrary." "You know you can fly now? Don't you want to try that out?" "We even have a maximally human organism, against which all other organisms are compared to test their human-ness? It's Carl Linnaeus -- in honour of all the work he did on species [we locked his skeleton up somewhere](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Type_(biology)#Lectotype) and granted him the title of Ur-human. Which means that everyone alive today is slightly less human than some family of Swedish nerds in the 1700s. And if we'd happened to have chosen someone else, we'd have a different ordering of humanity in terms of human-ness." "You can teleport! You could go somewhere else, somewhere far far away, _right now_. Wouldn't that be fun?" "Worse, we haven't stopped evolving. At some point in the future we'll be so far from Carl Linnaeus that we'll need a new label to describe us. Do those powers disappear then? Once we arbitrarily decide to call ourselves something else? Seems hard to believe really." "Oh My God do you know this is why no one has bothered to contact you people all this time? I'm leaving. Do us all a favour and don't go developing any sort of space exploration program. If I see a human come anywhere near our star system I will see to their Zapping myself." "How will you decide whether the organism is human or not?" [See also](http://slatestarcodex.com/2014/11/21/the-categories-were-made-for-man-not-man-for-the-categories/)
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.	I awoke in the night, the distant sounds of screams altogether too familiar. It didn't sound isolated - they must have found a safe-haven. Hundreds would be massacred. It was just like I said; don't bunch together. Don't rely on each other for support. Survival is all about laying low, keeping quiet and hoping that luck was on your side. I'd been having a strange dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was rare already; it was more of a premonition. I'd felt a burning sensation in my hand, as if there were energy coursing through it. The feeling still stuck with me, and I focused on it to try drown out the screams. ****** There were more of them now; towering beasts, eldritch monstrosities. We'd imagined aliens as these advanced beings, visiting us with technology that we could not even comprehend, bestowing knowledge and gifts. But no. They were unimaginable nightmares, drifting in through space, landing on our forsaken planet and hunting us mercilessly. Our combined efforts only took down a few, and the ensuing nuclear winter only made things worse. And now they hunt us down without rest. It doesn't seem to be for sustenance - they ignore other animals, though they will harm them if it is in their way. No; it feels like eradication. And more come every day. But the the dreams won't go away. What little sleep I have is filled with feelings of flame and fury; of ominous premonition, of terrifying power. I feel that energy more and more. I suspect that I am going mad, but I'd rather be mad than dead. And judging by my travels, it seems that I am one of the few left with the privilege of choice. Sleep comes to me eventually, the incessant chittering of the aliens filtering through my dreams of intrigue, of primal power. *** I awoke to a sound of crashing, of beastly lumbering. I've been found. I sprinted from my lair, a crumbling ruin, just as a jagged tentacle pierced through the foundations. Rubble collapsed around me as I leapt through a window, landing on the floor below in a clumsy roll. There was no time to think about the pain - only escape. I ran as fast as I could, praying that it was only one, praying that it could not keep up. There were many different forms of alien, and most of the massive ones were slow in the city. They could run at least as fast as a man, but the buildings and ruins proved ample obstacles. With a bit of luck, I could survive this. I had done so before. A sudden crash to my right sent glass flying just ahead of me. An arthropod the size of a large dog landed in front of me, its razor-sharp legs digging into the floor. There was no chance of running from it. But if I climbed the building to avoid it, my pursuer would destroy it as if it was a cardboard box. I had two choices, but either led to death. My right hand burned, a sharp red glow emitting from my palm. It felt like trapped electricity. Like every bit of primal power focused into a single thought. A choice: Shall I fight, or flee? **** [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4fn8/wp_resurge_ii/) \| [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4p1p/wp_resurgence_iii/) \| [Part IV (new)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i65tc/wp_resurgence_iv/) It's a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story! Vote on whichever choice you like best, and I hope I won't disappoint :) /r/CroatianSpy	"Hang on, so there's some fixed amount of power and it's divided equally among all humans?" "Yep." "And you, a strange alien creature, have culled the human population in order to increase the power granted to any one individual?" "Exactly. Do you want to try out your new powers?" "I've a few questions first actually -- as a more advanced intelligence you're certainly aware of evolution, of the fact that all life forms here on earth share a common ancestor, of the fact that distinct species arise by a process of natural selection, where only those which adapt best to their environment survive?" "Go on..." "And you're telling me that the human species possess some special access to magical powers, with the magnitude of each individual's access _depending explicitly on the number of other alive humans_? "Yeah. Is there a problem?" "You bet there's a problem. What we call human life is unavoidably arbitrary. If we draw up the family tree showing the ancestry of all humans, at some point we make it back to some gross slime that definitely isn't human, and so at some point between today and whenever the slime was around we need to choose some generation and say 'Ok, after this we're human'. Maybe before we were neanderthal, or what have you, but neanderthal is just a label we made up too, every species is. You're telling me that whether or not an organism is labeled human actually has (1) some effect on the organism, and, worse, (2) some effect on every other organism we call human. But as I've argued, these labels are completely arbitrary." "You know you can fly now? Don't you want to try that out?" "We even have a maximally human organism, against which all other organisms are compared to test their human-ness? It's Carl Linnaeus -- in honour of all the work he did on species [we locked his skeleton up somewhere](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Type_(biology)#Lectotype) and granted him the title of Ur-human. Which means that everyone alive today is slightly less human than some family of Swedish nerds in the 1700s. And if we'd happened to have chosen someone else, we'd have a different ordering of humanity in terms of human-ness." "You can teleport! You could go somewhere else, somewhere far far away, _right now_. Wouldn't that be fun?" "Worse, we haven't stopped evolving. At some point in the future we'll be so far from Carl Linnaeus that we'll need a new label to describe us. Do those powers disappear then? Once we arbitrarily decide to call ourselves something else? Seems hard to believe really." "Oh My God do you know this is why no one has bothered to contact you people all this time? I'm leaving. Do us all a favour and don't go developing any sort of space exploration program. If I see a human come anywhere near our star system I will see to their Zapping myself." "How will you decide whether the organism is human or not?" [See also](http://slatestarcodex.com/2014/11/21/the-categories-were-made-for-man-not-man-for-the-categories/)
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.	All us helpless billions watch on our little glowing rectangles as our fellow humans die in droves. They fall screaming, choking, burning. The internet’s bad in the house, so we hunker on the steps of the chicken coop to see it. Together we watch the end of the world. Our breath clouds and storms around us. But we do not notice the cold. Our hearts and bones are lead. My siblings don’t make a sound. I look between the three of them and the black, faultless sky. I wonder if the afterlife looks like night, or if just looks like nothing. I wonder if I’ll find out soon. Somewhere far away, death shrieks scarlet overhead. Ships with roving eyes swarm the sky like an army of locusts. Bodies, whole and unwhole, strewn out one atop the other, left where they fell. Entire skyscrapers collapse like dominoes. News anchors weep, openly, if they’re on the air at all. My sister flicks restlessly through live streams, unable to pick which tragedy to behold. We crowd my oldest sister’s phone, barely able to watch yet unable to look away. She stops at the live press conference from the president. His voice is grave and hollow; he speaks to us from a dark room in some bunker somewhere. He says, “—at this point we have little hope. We will defend ourselves to the end, but tonight, please, stay inside, stay with your loved ones—” My brother Aaron has his head between his knees. When we were kids he ran screaming after the cougar that took his puppy. (Aaron didn't catch it.) I never believed fear was an emotion he had. “Turn that shit off,” he gasps. “Ignoring the aliens invading our fucking planet won’t make them go away,” Maya snaps but she switches to Facebook. Not that any of her friends would have time to post oh shit I’m dying, anyway. Out here, under the unblinking stars, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and coyote, I can’t fathom what waits out there. “Someone has to tell Papa,” Jackie murmurs. She is my twin, but you can’t tell. People always seem disappointed that there’s such a thing as non-identical twin sisters. “You’ll just scare him.” Maya, the oldest, has always been the unofficial boss of all of us. She made it official when Dad started mistaking her for our mother and trying to scramble uncracked eggs. “He deserves to know,” she insists. “If they come here,” Maya says through her teeth, “we’re not getting a panicked old man into the truck without hurting someone, alright?” Her words hang frozen for a moment. “Do you think they’ll come out here?” I whisper. I am the youngest by eight minutes, and I am good at the part. “No,” says Jackie, quickly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Aaron pulls his beanie over his eyes. “I wouldn’t rule it out, Jack.” Maya gasps into her fingers. “Oh, god, they’re in Spokane.” Bile shoots up my throat. That’s barely a hundred miles from here. Not even a particularly large city. I wonder if they’re hunting us one by one. Like rabbits. “Shit, is that Maddie’s—?” Aaron snatches the phone from her hands. I lean over his shoulder to see. My sister’s friend has pressed her phone lens to the window of her dorm room. In the background, she speaks in rapid, panicked whispers with her roommate. Outside her window mortars plummet in blue and yellow streaks, big as bowling balls. I hear her cry, “Are they bombing us?” as the first one connects. It blooms soundlessly, a pale yellow locus, and then the power of it explodes outward. It takes Maddie maybe six seconds to die. She has enough time to say, “I need to call my mom,” as the wall of smoke and debris rushes toward her like a sulfurous tsunami. The window shatters. The video goes black. I don’t even realize what I’ve seen until Maya starts bawling into her hands. A strange fire tingles in my palms, my belly. I feel the urge to move. To rise and fight. “We have to do something,” I say. Aaron looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Like what?” My fingers dance against the leg of my jeans. I know I should be scared as hell, but something in me is restless. Hungry for something very old, and long-forgotten. I stand up and face my siblings. I look them over carefully, in case this is the last time I see them. “We will not just watch.” I point at the house. “We won’t just let them kill everything and everyone and just stand here and watch.” Just south of us, down beyond the hide of the mountain, the sky turns red with fire. Tears stream down my brother’s cheek. “I can’t believe this is fucking it.” I shake my head, insistently. Insanely. I don’t know why, but I can’t accept that this is it. That this is truly how we fall. I ball my fists up at my sides. A furious heat snaps at the bars of my ribs, yearning to set on those who dared attack our home, of all places. Our dad, of all people. I let the hate and heat fill me. Flame chases down my forearm, over my knuckles. The white hot of anger. My fist is a coal and my flesh is carved from the mountain, and I will destroy anything that threatens the ones I love. “Elektra,” my brother says, oddly calm, "why is your hand glowing?" I look at my palm and grin. The fire finds my belly now. The chaos delights some new-awoken part of me that I had never known I possessed. It is like catching my reflection in an angle I have never seen before. I am myself, but different. “I think...” I laugh, despite the clouds of smoke rising from town. It rises out of me like a bird. I have never felt smaller or stronger. “I think I did it on purpose.” *** /r/shoringupfragments ~~Doing part 2 right now~~ update: I accidentally deleted what I was working on. I'm going to go angrily eat cupcakes and try again. ETA: I fell asleep :( I will post part two in a couple of hours when I'm on my break. You can check here or my sub. Thank you so much for reading.	"Hang on, so there's some fixed amount of power and it's divided equally among all humans?" "Yep." "And you, a strange alien creature, have culled the human population in order to increase the power granted to any one individual?" "Exactly. Do you want to try out your new powers?" "I've a few questions first actually -- as a more advanced intelligence you're certainly aware of evolution, of the fact that all life forms here on earth share a common ancestor, of the fact that distinct species arise by a process of natural selection, where only those which adapt best to their environment survive?" "Go on..." "And you're telling me that the human species possess some special access to magical powers, with the magnitude of each individual's access _depending explicitly on the number of other alive humans_? "Yeah. Is there a problem?" "You bet there's a problem. What we call human life is unavoidably arbitrary. If we draw up the family tree showing the ancestry of all humans, at some point we make it back to some gross slime that definitely isn't human, and so at some point between today and whenever the slime was around we need to choose some generation and say 'Ok, after this we're human'. Maybe before we were neanderthal, or what have you, but neanderthal is just a label we made up too, every species is. You're telling me that whether or not an organism is labeled human actually has (1) some effect on the organism, and, worse, (2) some effect on every other organism we call human. But as I've argued, these labels are completely arbitrary." "You know you can fly now? Don't you want to try that out?" "We even have a maximally human organism, against which all other organisms are compared to test their human-ness? It's Carl Linnaeus -- in honour of all the work he did on species [we locked his skeleton up somewhere](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Type_(biology)#Lectotype) and granted him the title of Ur-human. Which means that everyone alive today is slightly less human than some family of Swedish nerds in the 1700s. And if we'd happened to have chosen someone else, we'd have a different ordering of humanity in terms of human-ness." "You can teleport! You could go somewhere else, somewhere far far away, _right now_. Wouldn't that be fun?" "Worse, we haven't stopped evolving. At some point in the future we'll be so far from Carl Linnaeus that we'll need a new label to describe us. Do those powers disappear then? Once we arbitrarily decide to call ourselves something else? Seems hard to believe really." "Oh My God do you know this is why no one has bothered to contact you people all this time? I'm leaving. Do us all a favour and don't go developing any sort of space exploration program. If I see a human come anywhere near our star system I will see to their Zapping myself." "How will you decide whether the organism is human or not?" [See also](http://slatestarcodex.com/2014/11/21/the-categories-were-made-for-man-not-man-for-the-categories/)
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.	All us helpless billions watch on our little glowing rectangles as our fellow humans die in droves. They fall screaming, choking, burning. The internet’s bad in the house, so we hunker on the steps of the chicken coop to see it. Together we watch the end of the world. Our breath clouds and storms around us. But we do not notice the cold. Our hearts and bones are lead. My siblings don’t make a sound. I look between the three of them and the black, faultless sky. I wonder if the afterlife looks like night, or if just looks like nothing. I wonder if I’ll find out soon. Somewhere far away, death shrieks scarlet overhead. Ships with roving eyes swarm the sky like an army of locusts. Bodies, whole and unwhole, strewn out one atop the other, left where they fell. Entire skyscrapers collapse like dominoes. News anchors weep, openly, if they’re on the air at all. My sister flicks restlessly through live streams, unable to pick which tragedy to behold. We crowd my oldest sister’s phone, barely able to watch yet unable to look away. She stops at the live press conference from the president. His voice is grave and hollow; he speaks to us from a dark room in some bunker somewhere. He says, “—at this point we have little hope. We will defend ourselves to the end, but tonight, please, stay inside, stay with your loved ones—” My brother Aaron has his head between his knees. When we were kids he ran screaming after the cougar that took his puppy. (Aaron didn't catch it.) I never believed fear was an emotion he had. “Turn that shit off,” he gasps. “Ignoring the aliens invading our fucking planet won’t make them go away,” Maya snaps but she switches to Facebook. Not that any of her friends would have time to post oh shit I’m dying, anyway. Out here, under the unblinking stars, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and coyote, I can’t fathom what waits out there. “Someone has to tell Papa,” Jackie murmurs. She is my twin, but you can’t tell. People always seem disappointed that there’s such a thing as non-identical twin sisters. “You’ll just scare him.” Maya, the oldest, has always been the unofficial boss of all of us. She made it official when Dad started mistaking her for our mother and trying to scramble uncracked eggs. “He deserves to know,” she insists. “If they come here,” Maya says through her teeth, “we’re not getting a panicked old man into the truck without hurting someone, alright?” Her words hang frozen for a moment. “Do you think they’ll come out here?” I whisper. I am the youngest by eight minutes, and I am good at the part. “No,” says Jackie, quickly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Aaron pulls his beanie over his eyes. “I wouldn’t rule it out, Jack.” Maya gasps into her fingers. “Oh, god, they’re in Spokane.” Bile shoots up my throat. That’s barely a hundred miles from here. Not even a particularly large city. I wonder if they’re hunting us one by one. Like rabbits. “Shit, is that Maddie’s—?” Aaron snatches the phone from her hands. I lean over his shoulder to see. My sister’s friend has pressed her phone lens to the window of her dorm room. In the background, she speaks in rapid, panicked whispers with her roommate. Outside her window mortars plummet in blue and yellow streaks, big as bowling balls. I hear her cry, “Are they bombing us?” as the first one connects. It blooms soundlessly, a pale yellow locus, and then the power of it explodes outward. It takes Maddie maybe six seconds to die. She has enough time to say, “I need to call my mom,” as the wall of smoke and debris rushes toward her like a sulfurous tsunami. The window shatters. The video goes black. I don’t even realize what I’ve seen until Maya starts bawling into her hands. A strange fire tingles in my palms, my belly. I feel the urge to move. To rise and fight. “We have to do something,” I say. Aaron looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Like what?” My fingers dance against the leg of my jeans. I know I should be scared as hell, but something in me is restless. Hungry for something very old, and long-forgotten. I stand up and face my siblings. I look them over carefully, in case this is the last time I see them. “We will not just watch.” I point at the house. “We won’t just let them kill everything and everyone and just stand here and watch.” Just south of us, down beyond the hide of the mountain, the sky turns red with fire. Tears stream down my brother’s cheek. “I can’t believe this is fucking it.” I shake my head, insistently. Insanely. I don’t know why, but I can’t accept that this is it. That this is truly how we fall. I ball my fists up at my sides. A furious heat snaps at the bars of my ribs, yearning to set on those who dared attack our home, of all places. Our dad, of all people. I let the hate and heat fill me. Flame chases down my forearm, over my knuckles. The white hot of anger. My fist is a coal and my flesh is carved from the mountain, and I will destroy anything that threatens the ones I love. “Elektra,” my brother says, oddly calm, "why is your hand glowing?" I look at my palm and grin. The fire finds my belly now. The chaos delights some new-awoken part of me that I had never known I possessed. It is like catching my reflection in an angle I have never seen before. I am myself, but different. “I think...” I laugh, despite the clouds of smoke rising from town. It rises out of me like a bird. I have never felt smaller or stronger. “I think I did it on purpose.” *** /r/shoringupfragments ~~Doing part 2 right now~~ update: I accidentally deleted what I was working on. I'm going to go angrily eat cupcakes and try again. ETA: I fell asleep :( I will post part two in a couple of hours when I'm on my break. You can check here or my sub. Thank you so much for reading.	I awoke in the night, the distant sounds of screams altogether too familiar. It didn't sound isolated - they must have found a safe-haven. Hundreds would be massacred. It was just like I said; don't bunch together. Don't rely on each other for support. Survival is all about laying low, keeping quiet and hoping that luck was on your side. I'd been having a strange dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was rare already; it was more of a premonition. I'd felt a burning sensation in my hand, as if there were energy coursing through it. The feeling still stuck with me, and I focused on it to try drown out the screams. ****** There were more of them now; towering beasts, eldritch monstrosities. We'd imagined aliens as these advanced beings, visiting us with technology that we could not even comprehend, bestowing knowledge and gifts. But no. They were unimaginable nightmares, drifting in through space, landing on our forsaken planet and hunting us mercilessly. Our combined efforts only took down a few, and the ensuing nuclear winter only made things worse. And now they hunt us down without rest. It doesn't seem to be for sustenance - they ignore other animals, though they will harm them if it is in their way. No; it feels like eradication. And more come every day. But the the dreams won't go away. What little sleep I have is filled with feelings of flame and fury; of ominous premonition, of terrifying power. I feel that energy more and more. I suspect that I am going mad, but I'd rather be mad than dead. And judging by my travels, it seems that I am one of the few left with the privilege of choice. Sleep comes to me eventually, the incessant chittering of the aliens filtering through my dreams of intrigue, of primal power. *** I awoke to a sound of crashing, of beastly lumbering. I've been found. I sprinted from my lair, a crumbling ruin, just as a jagged tentacle pierced through the foundations. Rubble collapsed around me as I leapt through a window, landing on the floor below in a clumsy roll. There was no time to think about the pain - only escape. I ran as fast as I could, praying that it was only one, praying that it could not keep up. There were many different forms of alien, and most of the massive ones were slow in the city. They could run at least as fast as a man, but the buildings and ruins proved ample obstacles. With a bit of luck, I could survive this. I had done so before. A sudden crash to my right sent glass flying just ahead of me. An arthropod the size of a large dog landed in front of me, its razor-sharp legs digging into the floor. There was no chance of running from it. But if I climbed the building to avoid it, my pursuer would destroy it as if it was a cardboard box. I had two choices, but either led to death. My right hand burned, a sharp red glow emitting from my palm. It felt like trapped electricity. Like every bit of primal power focused into a single thought. A choice: Shall I fight, or flee? **** [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4fn8/wp_resurge_ii/) \| [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4p1p/wp_resurgence_iii/) \| [Part IV (new)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i65tc/wp_resurgence_iv/) It's a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story! Vote on whichever choice you like best, and I hope I won't disappoint :) /r/CroatianSpy
[WP] Every year, a man is sent into the caves as a sacrifice to the gods. When you are sent in, you discover a Utopian society run by gods where the “sacrifices” are playing games and living life to its fullest.	"Why?" "Because we can't take more than one a year." "What?" "We can't afford to spend the power required to acclimate more than one new mortal a year. We need the mortals to voluntarily limit the number they send. Calling them 'sacrifices' was judged to be the most effective way." "So what's the catch?" "You can't leave." "Why would I want to leave this Heaven?" "Well for well adjusted people, they miss friends and family. 'Sacrifices' usually aren't well adjusted. They've usually either been ostracized socially, or are otherwise ready to move on. Others just want to find out what people would say if they knew the truth." "But they can't, or they'd fight to get in." "Yes, and if a big group of mortals entered at once, Heaven would fall." "How many years do you expect that to take?" "I beg your pardon?" "When is the expected median time to failure? This setup seems very shoddy to me. No craft at all. Where are the failsafes, the redundancies?" "Heaven has stood for generations mortal. Don't question what you cannot fathom." "I've heard that one before. If you can't explain it, you just don't understand it. You said generations, correct? Not ages, or eons? When was this Heaven created? One hundred years ago? Two?" "-One." "Gods almighty, I knew it. You're probably past your expected fail by date already. There might be another mortal right behind me and you'd not even know it would you? Would you?" "But why would mortals-?" "Why would mortals send two per year? Why would mortals do anything? Because they are ignorant and stupid. Because they are bored, or hungry, or angry. They blame you all for everything and they think these caves make you happy. They almost sent ten virgins in here last year, did you know that? Of course you didn't." "Why?" "Big flood, bad harvest. Doesn't really matter, they didn't, but they could and you don't even have as much as a single stone blocking their way. Not that it would buy you much more time. Mortals are ignorant, stupid, and determined. You put a wall in the way they'll bang it down with their faces if they thought it give them divine goodwill." "You are not like the other 'sacrifices' mortal." "Of course not, I'm probably your first engineer."	It has been over a decade since the gods demanded a sacrifice. As bloody as this custom became, it was forgotten in not much more than a decade. How disrespectful of the humans, to forget our existence. Lian said with pride. We shall not let these barbaric creatures forget where they came from , our current views may be different ,but we can not allow the apemen to forget the wrath of gods. Thaler steps into the picture, his red hair burning lightly, a cunning smile on his face. Enough of this foolish prideralley. We will mark our existence in their minds forever, but it will not be by divine hands. The mortals have forgotten how the world looked like before our arrival. Send an envoy Thelengres. We will ask for one final sacrifice. My Lord, my Lord. - What is it boy, don't you see I'm in the middle of something? Indeed Claerin was in the middle of painting Sarah, the ignorance of the old man has only grown over the years and now that he leads us, these debaucheries have become more and more frequent. Speak now boy. - My Sire, the boy was trying hard not to stare at the young girl shivering in the corner, he swallows his curiosity. a divine envoy has arrived my Sire, he bears a message. - What do those bloody bastards want now, did we not make it clear enough, that we do not want a part in their deals? Where is the message, boy? Claerin's hands shake with anger just thinking about what those sniveling pigs want now. The envoy said so it was for you to read, not anyone else. He's awaiting you at Mount Kaelos, by the tower of the four seers. And one more thing Sire, he asked that you go alone. With one last glance on the room, the boy left Claerin alone with his problems. Bloody fucking divinities, is it not enough that I have to keep these animals in line, now you want something once again? Claerin storms out of the room, shutting the door with haste, leaving the girl behind. It has been TWO days Claerin, what took you so long? Do you not fear the WRATH of the Gods? - Oh leave the crap behind, if you came here to punish me, you might as well just go ahead, I'm tired of this ordeal. Claerin says and opens the door to the tower with as much arrogance and strength as he can muster. Tread carefully human, you dance on strings by our design. The envoy, as misterious as ever. A dark robe hiding his very existence from this world, but it's glowing yellow eyes, the only certainty of his presence. Ever slowly looming towards the table of ordering. Hereby hear the message of the Gods human. The hour of the last sacrifice is nigh, gather us your best, a knight of honor, virtue, integrity, clarity, wisdom and purity. With this last sacrifice our concord is fulfilled. The envoy's cold and emotionless words freeze the very air in the room. You could feel reality tear apart, as this ancient entity enslaved by the gods inches closer and closer to breaking it's bonds. The Gods do not like to be delayed. In a blink of an eye, it vanishes and color comes seeping back into the room, leaving Claerin with only his thoughts and doubts. Siarra, grand knight of the Empire, the honour is yours to become the last to walk the ancient path and engrave your name in history, as champion of the Gods. I ask you, do you accept this one last task the Empire assigns you with? Do you have the courage, the strength to walk this path? I, Siarra Encher, firstborn of Staren and Tiarra Encher, hereby swear on my life, I will fulfill this last act service and bring the glory of the Empire with me. In my grandest hour I thank you for bestoving this task upon me and ask that you lend me your wisdom for this one final journey. Siarra, champion of the Gods, rise and accept this blade, with this weapon, you will bear the trials of the Gods and be one with the Infinity. Ah, the mortal champion arrives, it seems he was fit to survive our trials. Look Thaler, your newest blade has arrived it pristene condition, would you thought of that? Would you believe the humans would find someone fit for your plans? As robust as thunder, Thaler raises his voice. Silence. Come closer child, it seems you've proved your worth, now it is time for your rebirth. Edit:formatting
[WP] Every year, a man is sent into the caves as a sacrifice to the gods. When you are sent in, you discover a Utopian society run by gods where the “sacrifices” are playing games and living life to its fullest.	"Why?" "Because we can't take more than one a year." "What?" "We can't afford to spend the power required to acclimate more than one new mortal a year. We need the mortals to voluntarily limit the number they send. Calling them 'sacrifices' was judged to be the most effective way." "So what's the catch?" "You can't leave." "Why would I want to leave this Heaven?" "Well for well adjusted people, they miss friends and family. 'Sacrifices' usually aren't well adjusted. They've usually either been ostracized socially, or are otherwise ready to move on. Others just want to find out what people would say if they knew the truth." "But they can't, or they'd fight to get in." "Yes, and if a big group of mortals entered at once, Heaven would fall." "How many years do you expect that to take?" "I beg your pardon?" "When is the expected median time to failure? This setup seems very shoddy to me. No craft at all. Where are the failsafes, the redundancies?" "Heaven has stood for generations mortal. Don't question what you cannot fathom." "I've heard that one before. If you can't explain it, you just don't understand it. You said generations, correct? Not ages, or eons? When was this Heaven created? One hundred years ago? Two?" "-One." "Gods almighty, I knew it. You're probably past your expected fail by date already. There might be another mortal right behind me and you'd not even know it would you? Would you?" "But why would mortals-?" "Why would mortals send two per year? Why would mortals do anything? Because they are ignorant and stupid. Because they are bored, or hungry, or angry. They blame you all for everything and they think these caves make you happy. They almost sent ten virgins in here last year, did you know that? Of course you didn't." "Why?" "Big flood, bad harvest. Doesn't really matter, they didn't, but they could and you don't even have as much as a single stone blocking their way. Not that it would buy you much more time. Mortals are ignorant, stupid, and determined. You put a wall in the way they'll bang it down with their faces if they thought it give them divine goodwill." "You are not like the other 'sacrifices' mortal." "Of course not, I'm probably your first engineer."	So I fell into the volcano and died. And whaddayaknow, there I was in Utopia of the Gods. They were friendly and all but when I brought up how the entire initial storyline and characters (all the people still alive) had been narratively destroyed, they were like, "storytelling, son!" So I used my God powers to let everyone on Earth know the real gig. People on Earth started jumping into volcanos en masse. Forbes published a bullshit, virtue-signaling article about whether all the bodies would have an effect on the magma layer. CNN published some NASA satellite scans of volcanos at the time people were jumping in and told viewers it was Russia. But none of them crashed our party so all us Gods were like, "who cares?" By the time people figured out that they had to be sacrificed to the Gods in order for it to work, they had developed a society based on microtransacting a digital currency that tracks all your poops, called Poop¢oin, and this had made them all really bad at just eating grapes, having sex with animals, touching each other's fingers in a billow of clouds and cherubs, you know, God stuff. All people could do anymore is poop and if they weren't pooping they were freaking out. So we Gods were all like, "nyaaahhh!" and we made it so you could only get in if you had been sacrificed involuntarily. Godtopia continued more or less exactly as it had forever but life on Earth got really kinky. {the end}
[WP] Every year, a man is sent into the caves as a sacrifice to the gods. When you are sent in, you discover a Utopian society run by gods where the “sacrifices” are playing games and living life to its fullest.	The long, prying fingers of the evening sun slithered into the cave entrance, touching and transmuting tree roots, fallen leaves, and animal scat, into a dragon's golden hoard -- albeit, as only a fleeting wealth. Christoph stepped inside and took a deep, lung-inflating breath. The taste of the stale air that drifted from deep inside the cave, was to him, the first taste of absolution. Of hope. He'd offered himself as a second sacrifice this year, claiming he was the most sinful of those who were left. In truth, he simply couldn't see another of his children perish, and hoped his death might finally sate the greed of the Gods. He turned to the villagers gathered behind him, their faces pale, their weathered hands trembling. Scolding tears streaked his wife's emaciated cheeks; their child buried her head into her mother's dress. I do it for you, he wanted to say to the girl. So that the harvest will not be blighted. So that your sister is the last life that the stream water takes. So that the Gods know we've not forgotten them. But instead, he raised a solemn, silent hand. There was a shout of acknowledgement and a frenzy of nervous excitement, as twelve men thrust their shoulders against the great boulder. Cries of good luck, and thank you, and good riddens, rang out in a bitter chorus, as the men heaved and hoed, and as the ground beneath Christoph began to shiver. As the boulder blocked the entrance, the sunlight, for a second, was flattened against a single wall -- then it was snuffed completely, as if a God had squeezed his fingers against the flame. The voices of the villagers too, were muted from the cave. For a moment, Christoph stopped still and simply listened: to the crackling of ice somewhere within; to the fluttering of wings from a bat he couldn't see; to the hope that his daughter might yet survive the cruel winter ahead. There was a new smell that mingled in the air now, noticeable only without the breath of the outside wind to taint it. This smell, that rode on the back of the stale air, reminded Christoph of the rotting corn he'd helped to harvest during autumn. Vegetation. Christoph took two halves of quartz from deep within a pocket, and a long torch from off his back. The stones sparked; the sulphur and lime mixture erupted -- a mix even the dribbling, disproving ice of the cave wouldn't be able to extinguish. He soon realised he'd have to find the Gods himself; why would they waste their time coming to find him? He shrugged his shoulders and felt the weight of the iron sword on his back. If he found a beast within the cavern walls, well the Gods would have an extra offering tonight. His footsteps were a haunted storm on both wall and ceiling, a building tempest of anticipation. Christoph passed through tunnel after tunnel, the rock walls around him giving way to warped ice that his torch sang a hymn of winter solstice upon. Gods! he yelled. I am ready. Come, take me! But they did not. The only reply was the plunk, plunk, plunk, from spears of ice dripping their watery innards. He saw his face reflected in a crystal sheet: deformed and distorted, stretched and skewed. That, he knew, was how he'd looked inside for a long time, now. A twisted, gnarled soul, ever since Clara's death. The cave began to wind down into the earth, creeping and corkscrewing deeper with each turn, with each step. Hours went by -- how many, he could not judge. Time was not a condition of Gods, nor of caves. The further Christoph descended, the less ice marked the walls. They instead became crumbling, uneven earth. The frozen chill began to give way to warmth. An uneasy feeling grasped at Christoph's chest. A thought that flagellated his mind. Down, still further. Ever winding, ever falling, ever deeper. Until he heard the voices he'd hoped he wouldn't. Distant echoes. Murmurs. Laughter. And with them came the smell of cooked meats and spilled ale. Unless Bacchus himself was down here, Christoph understood why his daughter had died to the water's poison. Why the crop's curse had not been lifted. His hands trembled in rage. The descent stopped. He found himself on a wide, open plateau inside a huge cavern. There was light flickering some way ahead, and the crackling of fire. He placed his own torch on the ground and went on from there without it, moving from shadow to shadow as he gradually neared the noise makers. At least fifteen of them sat there. Their mouths swilling with meat, ale and deceit. He recognised them all, men and women who were once his friends. Those that had promised their lives for the good of all. But they had played the Gods for fools. And in doing so... His hand grasped the hilt of his iron blade. They were drunk and unarmed. Their mouths, and food, dropped when they saw him; when they saw the unquenchable rage within his eyes. They tried to beg, but their sorrys were fuel to a furnace of hatred. As his sword sliced limb and torso, and as the black liquid filled the cavern, something within Christoph bubbled to the surface. The face he'd seen in the crystal ice. He finally understood his purpose. Once done, Christoph dipped his hands into the growing pool of blood, then smeared the warmth across his face. When new sacrifices were cast into the cave, he would be their Ferryman. He would be there to lead them to the Gods.	I had been dragged, silenced, and beaten. The one thing I had feared most had actually happened to me. It was no use resisting the Priests of the Gods. Everyone knew that. The last time someone had resisted cause them only pain and suffering, first at the deaths of their families, and then as a sacrifice to the Gods. It was a horrible spectacle to watch, seeing them hurl the poor soul into the abyss at the edge of the mountain. And now I was one of those poor souls. And it was all because of my virginity. It wasn't my fault I hadn't been chosen by anyone yet, I thought I would have made a great wife. But as soon as the Priests announced the newest demands of the Gods, it was like I carried a plague. Everyone was quick to be rid of me, pushed me towards the temple like a pig towards the fire pit. Now I could feel the winds rush upwards into my face from the edge. It smelled of dampness, cold and fear. I didn't even dare to look over the edge for the bottom. The priest behind me turned me towards the crowds and shouted "To bring another year of peace and prosperity, we offer this favored sacrifice to the all powerful and merciful Gods!" Favored my ass. Before I knew it, the ground beneath me was gone, and I only felt the rush of wind and the pain in my stomach from the push of the Priests. A scream erupted from chest. Then I was swallowed by the darkness. The fall felt as if it would last forever, but then the cool embrace of water gently welcomed me. I was expecting a rough, sudden end, but I was met with almost a welcoming rush of spring water. My head submerged underneath the surface as if it was laid on a pillow, and in the darkness, I saw a warm glow beneath me. I swam for it, but there was almost no need. A current pulled me towards it. I had no need to draw for breath, and a strange feeling of safety ushered me towards this orange light. I burst from the water, my feet finding solid ground. I was in a world of eternal sunset, the sky painted with hues of red and orange. The pool behind me was part of a garden on the outskirts of a shining city. I looked around, wondering why my clothes weren't wet when I spotted a flying man heading towards me. He had a kind face and a glowing wreath of holly around his head. "Do not be afraid. We are not going to hurt you." "Where am I and who are you? This isn't Hell in disguise is it? Some twisted joke for the God's?" The man laughed. "No, child. We don't like those kind of jokes. We prefer really bad puns, or cheesy jokes typically made by older gentlemen. Personally, I like witty backtalk, that's why I asked for someone like you!" I looked at him, trying to determine if he was serious. "So you asked for a virgin? How does that even make sense?" He laughed again and pointed at me. "Because only someone who talked and acted like that would scare away those silly men out there. Anyway, let's head to the city, we've all been waiting for you." "Y-you aren't going to kill Me? But the Priests...the sacrifice...?" He shook his head. "We think there's been some miscommunication, we didn't want any priests to treat people so badly. We're just lonely here in our city. No one ever comes and visits anymore."
[WP] Every year, a man is sent into the caves as a sacrifice to the gods. When you are sent in, you discover a Utopian society run by gods where the “sacrifices” are playing games and living life to its fullest.	Griff approached the cave cautiously, trying to calm his beating heart. He could hear distant sounds; wailing, screeches. He knew his time had come. As his kingdom's champion, it was his destiny to be sacrificed to the gods. While it saddened him that he would not lose his life in battle, it was also a great honour. His village would prosper, and Leila would know that he was not a coward. He entered the cave, walking with purpose, taking deep breaths. A distant glow of light gradually burgeoned into flickering flames, casting shadows on the jagged walls. The screams became decipherable, echoing, sounding more and more like... revelry. What trickery was this? A flash of light made Griff recoil. He righted himself, closed his eyes and thrust out his arms, resigning himself to his fate. Booming laughter echoed across the chasm. "Lay down your arms, human," a voice boomed, "we mean you no harm." "Apart from your liver, perhaps," another voice reverberated. Griff struggled to make make them out in the light. "Will an eagle feast on it, like the legend of Prometheus?" He asked, making his will iron. "Do as you wish, for I am yours. I only ask that you-" "The alcohol, human," the voice replied, "it shall harm your liver. Bit of a slow one this year, eh?" Laughter reverberated across the cave once more. Griff felt overwhelmed; confused. Was this all a foolish game? A golden chalice appeared in the light in front of him, filled to the brim with honey mead. Just the smell of it was intoxicating. "Drink up!" a familiar voice said, as a hand hit his shoulder. "It's your favourite!" The blinding light dimmed, and Griff's vision slowly became adjusted to the glare. A mystical sight revealed itself before him - a glimmering, godlike town, with a feasting hall in the centre. "Quite a sight, hey Griff?" the voice continued, squeezing his shoulder. Griff turned around and saw J'karl, the kingdom's sacrifice from three years before. Griff was overwhelmed. "J'karl? How do you still live?" Griff said, completely shocked. He had always looked up to him, ever since he was a child. "Not what you were expecting, right?" J'karl replied, putting the chalice into Griff's hand and leading him to the feasting hall. "Same for all of us." Griff saw countless men, all previous sacrifices of the kingdom. They nodded their cups in recognition. Most had grown fat and red in the face. "I wish I could say we threw this party for your arrival - but truly, party is all we ever do," J'karl said. "The gods supply all we could ever need, and are the head of all our festivities." "This... this is not what I was expecting," Griff replied. "You will get used to it, young Griff," J'karl said. "Just drink and be merry; it is all we can ask for." He said the last line with a trace of shame. Griff looked around him. The gods floated around them all; drinking, gambling, fighting. The sacrifices had become pigs of men, eating their scraps, losing all touch of what they had been. "Do the gods truly care for us?" Griff whispered, gazing at the hedonism. "Do they watch over our kingdom?" "The gods do not care, my friend," J'karl said, "they care not. But we can at least enjoy our time here. Give me death or give me this, and my choice is clear." "So these are the things we worship? These things that rule over us, but do not care for us?" J'karl shrugged. "They do not interfere with the affairs of man. They do us no harm." "But they subsist over the power we give them?" Griff replied. J'karl stared at him for some time. "Just drink up, Griff," he said, leaving him and joining another group of men. "I was like you, once. But you'll get used to it." All of this felt so wrong. All of the kingdom's greatest warriors had become fat and plump; like pigs for the slaughter. Perhaps they were still a sacrifice, being fattened up before their consumption. Griff gripped the hilt of his sword, looking at the gods above him. "If I am not a sacrifice," he said, thinking of all that he had left behind, "then I will be a saviour." ***** [Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7j959j/wp_sacrifice/) \| [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7jal6h/wp_sacrifice_ii/) \| [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7jfraw/wp_sacrifice_iii/) \| [Part IV](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7jjetr/wp_sacrifice_iv/) Part IV is out! /r/CroatianSpy	The estoc was fairly plain. The blade was iron and although there were delicately engraved curlicues on its brass hilt, it had no gem on its pommel. For nearly a year after it was crafted, the weapon had gone unwanted in the blacksmith's shop on Mecklenburger Strasse, until the night that Erhard, who was a messenger, had purchased it. He had done so after becoming too drunk in the alehouse, after his dear brother, the scribe Adalgar, had entreated him to pursue his grandest dream, and go petition the wealthy farmer Wenzell Junnes for the hand of his winsome daughter Agatha. "Why not you, brother?" Adalgar had asked, "All you need is to own a fine blade, and then Herr Junnes will surely consent. What father would refuse a man of dexterity who could care for and protect his daughter?" Though on many mornings he did not, when Erhard awoke he had held onto the courage he had felt while in his cups. He rode his horse right away to the Junnes manor to present his offer. But it had all been a misjudgment, as Erhard had no experience in the sorts of words and ornamentals that would impress a man such as Herr Junnes. When Erhard knocked on the manor door, with his pilling cloak, too-curly beard, and hand trembling on the leather sheath, he stuttered through his case. The rich Herr Junnes quickly started to chortle at the notion of his Agatha wedded to a man such as the one before him. He smacked Erhard for his imperiousness, until the boy fell into the hay, right beside some fly-covered dung and snorting hogs. "What gall you have to ask this," Herr Junnes shouted at Erhard, "you, who belongs in the mud with the pigs! Agatha is promised to a true gentleman of Hamburg. His dowry will outsize your entire life's work." After this rebuke and humiliation, Erhard became very melancholy. He wandered alone along the Weser, weeping. In his shame, he considered cutting himself with the estoc, which had already cost him his last ducats for a foolish dream. But before he gathered the resolve to act, his brother Adalgar discovered him. Adalgar implored Erhard not to surrender so easily, that he could yet prove Herr Junnes wrong, and show that he was a man of means and capability. Adalgar reminded Erhard how, in a good many Bremen alleyways at night, a man may flash his weapon to certain nefarious looking characters, and brush his thumb against his nose, to signal that his estoc and honor were for sale. Hearing this strategy, Erhard feared what sinful things he might be beckoned to do for the coin needed to win over Herr Junnes. But he was enticed at the prospect of the wealth Adalgar spoke of. "Indeed," Adalgar explained, "just this afternoon, I was informed by a stout Italian in a brown mandelion of a profitable venture. If a man is to travel to a certain cave in the west, and recover a leather satchel lost inside it, he will be promptly rewarded with forty ducats! I would have taken the mission myself, but alas, brother, I am not a messenger, and have no horse. However, I happily trust this cause to you, so that you may at last win your beautiful Agatha" Erhard thanked Adalgar for the information. He ran back to his horse, quickly watered it, and rode off that very night for the cave. He found the mouth easily, and ventured inside, igniting an oil soaked torch for light. But the cave was larger than he had expected, and worse, he did not realize this until it was too late to have left a trail, until he had already forgotten all his left and right turns, and could not notice any differences in the endlessly repeating limestone or stalactites. Erhard cried out with his whole voice, but all that returned to him were echoes and the dripping of water. He began to panic, breathing much too quick in the thick cave air. He keeled over onto the dirty floor, and shrieked when a beetle skittered against his hand. He realized he was no man of dexterity and capability. He deserved an even baser estoc to match his cravenness. But just as Erhard had lost all hope, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun his torso around, and lit up another's face with his torch. Erhard began to stutter even worse than he had at Herr Junnes' door. Through some impossible fortune or blessing, his savior was Agatha herself! She crouched down beside him and she touched his face. She told him she had heard her father's cruel rebuke on the manor steps, and afterwards had run away to follow her heart and find Erhard. She had interviewed all the gossips and vagrants of Bremen until she had uncovered the details of Erhard's journey to the cave. She had then set out after him. Agatha said how gladdened she was that she had found him. She gave him a kiss, and proclaimed how full her heart was at the prospect of starting their lives together. "We must return to Bremen at once!" Erhard declared, "I greatly hope you know the way out of the cave, for I had lost my way until you found me." "But, my love, why would we leave the cave?" Agatha asked, "Bremen is a fine city, but this cave contains paradise itself." Agatha then took Erhard by the hand, and ran with him, twisting and turning deeper into the limestone. She giggled and chided him to keep up with her sprint. At last, they turned the final corner, and Erhard saw it: a pristine garden, full of endless green plants with butterflies on their flowers, rustled by bouncing, brown hares, and drenched in yellow sunlight. \** Adalgar found Herr Junnes in the cellar, and the rich farmer appeared very content. The vial of the strange green liquid, which had been nearly empty at their last meeting, was now completely filled. Herr Junnes patted Adalgar roughly on the shoulder and tossed him a pouch full of silver. "This is well earned," Junnes told the scribe, "with your sacrifice, my fields will be blessed for another season." "Sir, not my sacrifice," said Adalgar, "it was Erhard, not I, who's life was given to the Grass-goddess Greva, so that your contract with her would be renewed." Herr Junnes sauntered over to a small table and picked up a small sword. Adalgar recognized it right away. It was Erhard's simple estoc, which he had surely taken with him to the cave. Adalgar could not fathom how it had returned to Bremen already. Herr Junnes placed the weapon in his conspirator's palm. "Perhaps, the sacrifice is Erhard's," Junnes replied, tilting his head from side to side, "perhaps that is so. Though, is it not Erhard who will live forever in a garden, where all his highest hopes have become real to him? And is it not you, Adalgar, who will live in Bremen, knowing always that you have sent your brother to endure an eternal lie?"
[WP] Every year, a man is sent into the caves as a sacrifice to the gods. When you are sent in, you discover a Utopian society run by gods where the “sacrifices” are playing games and living life to its fullest.	Griff approached the cave cautiously, trying to calm his beating heart. He could hear distant sounds; wailing, screeches. He knew his time had come. As his kingdom's champion, it was his destiny to be sacrificed to the gods. While it saddened him that he would not lose his life in battle, it was also a great honour. His village would prosper, and Leila would know that he was not a coward. He entered the cave, walking with purpose, taking deep breaths. A distant glow of light gradually burgeoned into flickering flames, casting shadows on the jagged walls. The screams became decipherable, echoing, sounding more and more like... revelry. What trickery was this? A flash of light made Griff recoil. He righted himself, closed his eyes and thrust out his arms, resigning himself to his fate. Booming laughter echoed across the chasm. "Lay down your arms, human," a voice boomed, "we mean you no harm." "Apart from your liver, perhaps," another voice reverberated. Griff struggled to make make them out in the light. "Will an eagle feast on it, like the legend of Prometheus?" He asked, making his will iron. "Do as you wish, for I am yours. I only ask that you-" "The alcohol, human," the voice replied, "it shall harm your liver. Bit of a slow one this year, eh?" Laughter reverberated across the cave once more. Griff felt overwhelmed; confused. Was this all a foolish game? A golden chalice appeared in the light in front of him, filled to the brim with honey mead. Just the smell of it was intoxicating. "Drink up!" a familiar voice said, as a hand hit his shoulder. "It's your favourite!" The blinding light dimmed, and Griff's vision slowly became adjusted to the glare. A mystical sight revealed itself before him - a glimmering, godlike town, with a feasting hall in the centre. "Quite a sight, hey Griff?" the voice continued, squeezing his shoulder. Griff turned around and saw J'karl, the kingdom's sacrifice from three years before. Griff was overwhelmed. "J'karl? How do you still live?" Griff said, completely shocked. He had always looked up to him, ever since he was a child. "Not what you were expecting, right?" J'karl replied, putting the chalice into Griff's hand and leading him to the feasting hall. "Same for all of us." Griff saw countless men, all previous sacrifices of the kingdom. They nodded their cups in recognition. Most had grown fat and red in the face. "I wish I could say we threw this party for your arrival - but truly, party is all we ever do," J'karl said. "The gods supply all we could ever need, and are the head of all our festivities." "This... this is not what I was expecting," Griff replied. "You will get used to it, young Griff," J'karl said. "Just drink and be merry; it is all we can ask for." He said the last line with a trace of shame. Griff looked around him. The gods floated around them all; drinking, gambling, fighting. The sacrifices had become pigs of men, eating their scraps, losing all touch of what they had been. "Do the gods truly care for us?" Griff whispered, gazing at the hedonism. "Do they watch over our kingdom?" "The gods do not care, my friend," J'karl said, "they care not. But we can at least enjoy our time here. Give me death or give me this, and my choice is clear." "So these are the things we worship? These things that rule over us, but do not care for us?" J'karl shrugged. "They do not interfere with the affairs of man. They do us no harm." "But they subsist over the power we give them?" Griff replied. J'karl stared at him for some time. "Just drink up, Griff," he said, leaving him and joining another group of men. "I was like you, once. But you'll get used to it." All of this felt so wrong. All of the kingdom's greatest warriors had become fat and plump; like pigs for the slaughter. Perhaps they were still a sacrifice, being fattened up before their consumption. Griff gripped the hilt of his sword, looking at the gods above him. "If I am not a sacrifice," he said, thinking of all that he had left behind, "then I will be a saviour." ***** [Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7j959j/wp_sacrifice/) \| [Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7jal6h/wp_sacrifice_ii/) \| [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7jfraw/wp_sacrifice_iii/) \| [Part IV](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7jjetr/wp_sacrifice_iv/) Part IV is out! /r/CroatianSpy	They said that the Exile was a good thing. That it was a journey which would appease those from above. That our faith was enough to satisfy them. But I know what it truly is. I know of the terrible secret that the Exile holds. The Exile is a sacrifice to the gods. For a long journey to a distant place with no returning, you'd think that the chiefs would at least allow you to take your belongings with you. But no. Simply not true. Your stuff stays in the village, and gets handed out to everyone else. Who could seriously buy into the Exile being anything but human sacrifice? Let's be honest. I'm just trying to keep my mind occupied. After all, I'm the one that's been Exiled now. The path to the Caves is a long one. And that long walk to them gives a lot of time for you to think about what's going to happen to you. I've already went through all the stages, the denial, the depression, the anger. But none of it's going to do me any good. So I keep walking, with my back straight and my chin up. I am going to face death with dignity. The mouth of the Cave is large. It is a massive gaping hole into the mountain side and inside is nothing but pitch darkness. There's a sound of dripping water echoing out from the Cave. This is certainly not the most foreboding place in the world. Definitely not. I close my eyes and walk a few steps into the Cave and stop. Huh. Haven't been eaten yet. That's a good sign, right? A few steps more and the sound of dripping fades away, overshadowed by the sound of a rushing current. Opening my eyes, I still find that for the most part, the Cave is dark, but there's a sliver of light up ahead. I run towards it. As I run, the roaring of the water gets louder and louder, until I realize that the light is coming from the other side of a wall of water cascading from above. I'm inside a waterfall. I'm INSIDE A WATERFALL?! Something breaks inside me, and I charge out into the water...and find myself falling through the air. It's a few brief moments of panic and self-loathing before I splash into a pool below. When I float back to the surface, I'm greeted by a glowing city. There's people everywhere, all smiling and enjoying themselves. Were the elders really telling the truth? Does Exile really lead...to Rapture?
[WP] Every baby is taken away by the government and returned when they are ten years old. They never remember what happened in those years, but they always recognize their parents. You, however, remember everything. And those aren't your parents.	It was a baby’s cry that changed everything. Truth echoed from wails of sorrow. I’ve heard that people used to cry to create an “emotional equilibrium,” that is, to balance out a strong negative emotion with a positive one or vice-versa. I’m not sure if that’s true. But I want it to be. Otherwise I don’t know how I can survive knowing what I know now. Alo said the Leviathan didn’t always exist. No one knows how long it’s been since the Great War, but Alo said the leaders of the Old World destroyed the planet in a rage of ignorance and unmitigated stupidity. He wasn’t fully aware of all the details, just that great bombs started to fall when mankind could no longer rationalize or preserve their posterity. Ignorance made them worse than animals. Out of the ashes of the massive conflagration, a proposal was drafted from a new band of ten leaders that ignorance could never run rampant in societies again. Over time, governments rose and fell because people kept breaking the rules. And then it changed. The Leviathan was created. It ruled through fear and intimidation, Alo said, but also stifled ignorance by instilling it in the masses. The Leviathan engineered a chemical out of the same bombs that destroyed the Old World and systemically injected into every born in their society. Alo said it implanted preconceived memories into the brain so no one would know who they really were, and also left them open to suggestion. From birth until ten years of age, children were fed a disciplinarian curriculumn that manufactued obedience. I asked Alo what ignorance really was then; he said it’s the removal of free thought. It seemed like a bag of bricks landed on me when I first heard that. “Alo, if we have free thought like the Old World did, won’t we destroy ourselves.” He couldn’t answer that. And that scared me even more. “I rescued you so that you could make your own decisions. That is what makes you human. Those people in your covel were not your mother and father, at least...not really.” “What” I hesitated to say more. “No one can really be your parents, your guardian, your protector if they can only think what they’ve been programmed to think.” I grew enraged. “So why rescue me! Actually, screw that, how is this rescuing! I have no one now, no one... and I can never re-enter society.” “You’re not alone. Come, let me show you something.” He grabbed my arm and led me to an underground facility. I was so distraught that I couldn’t see the light radiating off the sea of babies at first. They were connected to tubes which ran back to a computer monitor. “These are the children harvested for Leviathan’s use. You were once here not too long ago.” Their faceless expressions horrified me. The pale, blotchless demeanor made them look dead. Unplug the tube. Unplug the tube. Unplug the tube! Too many thoughts raced through my head, but that one remained. I ran towards the closest infant and ripped the tube off. I stood there for what seemed an eternity while the baby slowly started to toss and turn. And it cried. A million thoughts surged through my head, but as I saw the baby cry I realized that neither my parents, nor my school, nor anyone else I knew ever feigned any sign of emotion. But this one did. And I didn’t have to say it, but I knew then why Alo did it. I knew why free thought mattered. I turned around towards Alo but he was not there. Suddenly, light streamed through the facility and poured over the babies stronger than I had ever seen anything before. They were changing, dissolving, reanimating, and then...repeat. My head felt unbelievably heavy. And slowly, ever so slowly, I felt the rush of the injection swell through me.	I adjusted my scope, trough it I could see the never-ending forest and artwork of green, the leaves of the trees singing as the wind caressed them, how much time has passed since I felt like this? since I felt like my heart was about to burst from my chest. there was nothing out there that made me feel like this. Whatever it is that humans called happiness was something that I barely experimented. And this, this place made feel that way, again after many, many years. I'm sure that my partners feel the same way, I could hear them, playing in the forest, their minds and bodies moving like never before like they just woke up from a dream. I adjusted my scope once again and changed direction to look somewhere else, there were birds flying in the air, something happened in that direction. I started trembling, but not out of fear, but out of excitement, how I missed this feeling, the feeling of facing a worthy opponent, of the hunt. After so many years of experimenting with the children of the earth and placing them in an environment where they could be treated as swords and be sharpened, after so many dreadful years they finally did it, at the cost of every other child in the orphanage and the foster parents. But one out of a hundred was more than enough for me A small figure appears on my vision -Astra- she was on top of a tree, her clothes tattered, her long golden hair floating, ignoring gravity, she had a halo on top of her head that was shining in the colors of the rainbow, she was looking south with eyes the same color of her hair and on her hand was a grey creature, with long claws and his face bashed in, bleeding from it and other injuries. "Theodore..." I whispered the name of the grey is "oh what a fool you were" I aim at the clouded figure, she was short, but that didn't mean she was any less dangerous. it only takes half a second for to aim at her head and another half a second to pull the trigger. light starts to accumulate at the tip of the railgun and in the next instant the bullet is fired, the bullet flies through the air, burning everything in its path, and then the place where she used to be exploded, the artwork of green is stained red and yellow But it wasn't over. Theodore flies toward me, or it would be more precise to say he was shot towards me, but it was a poorly aimed shot. She still had a long way to go, that girl. Theodore falls to my left and explodes in the process, staining everything with blood and gore. "Beautiful, as I thought that wasn't enough to stop you huh?" I said, I moved around the trees expecting her to appear at any moment, but disappointingly she didn't, it seems she had her eyes set on another hunter. "but still, this is acceptable, it will take a lot to bring her down, isn't that right Theo?" I laughed and looked at the corpse of Theodore, well to more precise, the entrails that were hanging on a branch. well, he was always a quiet one, death didn't change that. I kept running through the forest, it will take a while before the railgun reloads itself, so I started looking through gaps in the trees hiding my presence and following the sound of explosions in the distance, all while seeing the corpses of other fallen Hunters. There were at least a hundred of us and so far she has taken more than half us for what I've seen. it seems she was capable of fending off railgun bullets and she recently learned how to fly or at least float in the air for a while. All the odds were against us. If she keeps evolving everything will lead to our annihilation. But I didn't mind, all I cared about was resume the hunt and either be killed by her or have her face on my wall.
[WP] Every baby is taken away by the government and returned when they are ten years old. They never remember what happened in those years, but they always recognize their parents. You, however, remember everything. And those aren't your parents.	It was a baby’s cry that changed everything. Truth echoed from wails of sorrow. I’ve heard that people used to cry to create an “emotional equilibrium,” that is, to balance out a strong negative emotion with a positive one or vice-versa. I’m not sure if that’s true. But I want it to be. Otherwise I don’t know how I can survive knowing what I know now. Alo said the Leviathan didn’t always exist. No one knows how long it’s been since the Great War, but Alo said the leaders of the Old World destroyed the planet in a rage of ignorance and unmitigated stupidity. He wasn’t fully aware of all the details, just that great bombs started to fall when mankind could no longer rationalize or preserve their posterity. Ignorance made them worse than animals. Out of the ashes of the massive conflagration, a proposal was drafted from a new band of ten leaders that ignorance could never run rampant in societies again. Over time, governments rose and fell because people kept breaking the rules. And then it changed. The Leviathan was created. It ruled through fear and intimidation, Alo said, but also stifled ignorance by instilling it in the masses. The Leviathan engineered a chemical out of the same bombs that destroyed the Old World and systemically injected into every born in their society. Alo said it implanted preconceived memories into the brain so no one would know who they really were, and also left them open to suggestion. From birth until ten years of age, children were fed a disciplinarian curriculumn that manufactued obedience. I asked Alo what ignorance really was then; he said it’s the removal of free thought. It seemed like a bag of bricks landed on me when I first heard that. “Alo, if we have free thought like the Old World did, won’t we destroy ourselves.” He couldn’t answer that. And that scared me even more. “I rescued you so that you could make your own decisions. That is what makes you human. Those people in your covel were not your mother and father, at least...not really.” “What” I hesitated to say more. “No one can really be your parents, your guardian, your protector if they can only think what they’ve been programmed to think.” I grew enraged. “So why rescue me! Actually, screw that, how is this rescuing! I have no one now, no one... and I can never re-enter society.” “You’re not alone. Come, let me show you something.” He grabbed my arm and led me to an underground facility. I was so distraught that I couldn’t see the light radiating off the sea of babies at first. They were connected to tubes which ran back to a computer monitor. “These are the children harvested for Leviathan’s use. You were once here not too long ago.” Their faceless expressions horrified me. The pale, blotchless demeanor made them look dead. Unplug the tube. Unplug the tube. Unplug the tube! Too many thoughts raced through my head, but that one remained. I ran towards the closest infant and ripped the tube off. I stood there for what seemed an eternity while the baby slowly started to toss and turn. And it cried. A million thoughts surged through my head, but as I saw the baby cry I realized that neither my parents, nor my school, nor anyone else I knew ever feigned any sign of emotion. But this one did. And I didn’t have to say it, but I knew then why Alo did it. I knew why free thought mattered. I turned around towards Alo but he was not there. Suddenly, light streamed through the facility and poured over the babies stronger than I had ever seen anything before. They were changing, dissolving, reanimating, and then...repeat. My head felt unbelievably heavy. And slowly, ever so slowly, I felt the rush of the injection swell through me.	My senses return. I'm dragged from a windowless van. The sting of the sun radiates through the sensory nerves in my eyes and send a shock into the back of my head. It feels like years since I've seen the sun. Even the smell of dirt and decaying organic matter that surrounds me are extremely potent. I struggle to find my feet beneath me, I am being dragged across a fenced in courtyard. I see towers, back lit by the enormous helio god like figure that envelopes the sky. Where am I? These things seem so familiar but, it is all overwhelming. I am brought to a grayish building. Solid with its form, there are no windows to its soul, it has no eyes. From confusion, I slowly slip into fear of the unknown. The heavy steel doors click and clack before they let us enter. The lights flicker down the hall, the dull hum of photons racing back and forth inside their manufactured cages gets louder and louder. It seems like this sound is inside me. My heart begins to race and my palms dampen. I am grasping for air and my vision becomes blurred. A commotion suddenly erupts next to me, another door. I am shoved in and before I realize what has happened, it shuts behind me. There is an angelic woman standing at a podium at the front of the room. Her pale skin seems to glow brighter than the courtyard. My heart slows its racing and my palms become arid once again. She has a calming look on her face, a look of nurturing. She is soothing without saying a word. She tells me, "Welcome Connor, will you please be seated? We are about to begin." Confused but with a bit of euphoria from the previous panic attack, I comply. Her words cover my thoughts like the warmth I felt from that place between the van and this cold grey building. "Today is the last day of your schooling. These past few weeks you have all learned so much, and we are very proud of you." says the woman. An enthusiastic clap comes from the surrounding kids. "Your parents are very excited to see you and have missed you very much. Be sure to give them a great big hug when you see them." Another thunderous clap from the children fills the room. Single file we are led down the humming corridors. No one speaks. Only the tapping of the leather stitched to the underside of each child's shoes break the agony of those humming lights. I can't seem to shake this uneasy feeling that is growing inside of me. I feel as if I don't belong. The innocent faces of my counterparts don't seem to have that problem though. They are filled with excitement and joy at the prospect of reuniting with their parents once again. Our parents?! How long has it been since I've seen my parents. It feels like I don't even know them, I don't feel like I've been here a couple weeks. I feel like I have never been anywhere before. A blank slate, feeling all these emotions for the first time. Led into another room, we are met with a faceless crowd. Each child rushes to the arms of loving and enthusiastic grown ups. I stand my ground, as if my feet were stuck into the linoleum floor, roots of uncertainty paralyze my movement. I see a couple timidly walking towards me. I am still frozen in place. They slowly approach and I manage to free one foot from the bondage of fear. "Connor, did you have fun at camp this year?" they both say in unison. How do they know my name? Who the hell are these people? I feel my heart begin its sprint again, as if it were catching its breath and waiting to start another lap around the track. My hands moisten and I can barely hear over the pounding of my heart inside my ears. I manage to utter only a few words, "I had a lot of fun." "That's fantastic, are you ready to head home? We got you a couple surprises and your room is all clean for you." a cheerful man assures me. I stare at him with curiosity. He doesn't look very old, slim in nature and dressed in a dark blue suit and a thin tie. I nod with what I can conjure of a smile. The woman reaches for my hand, I hesitate to grab it. I am at a loss of words, but I can't deny the instinctual feeling of skepticism and survival. These people want to take care of me and I don't know where I am, but I need to get out of this building. We head for the door. The landscape is rushing by. The colors of red, yellow, brown and green blur together like a Van Gough masterpiece. The autumn colors ignite the countryside. We are speeding down a country road. Chopin's Nocturnes lullaby me to ease. My eyes begin to heavy and my breathing slows. I contort my body into a relaxed state. I drift away into a melodic sleep. A flash of light slashes in front of me. I feel that same piercing feeling violate its way through my head once again. There is a man in a mask over me, I am frozen, unable to react outside of my own mind. I am terrified. There is a melodic beeping somewhere in the distance, and that humming. That torturous humming has found its way around me again. I am panicked and struggling but nothing is moving except the rapid movement of my eyes. I feel a tearing sensation in my chest, an intense heat slowly moving its way down my sternum, the pain is unbearable, white hot agony. I finally lift my head up and let out a violent gut wrenching scream. A flash of light slashes away the pain. I am greeted back to reality, with the melting colors of natures final death note racing outside my window. Chopin's E flat Major sings that final note with such beauty. The two strangers seated in front of me unaware of anything but the road ahead.
[WP] Every baby is taken away by the government and returned when they are ten years old. They never remember what happened in those years, but they always recognize their parents. You, however, remember everything. And those aren't your parents.	Memories are difficult. I don't want to trust them. They're hard to keep track of. I know of some. How I was pulled away from a screaming woman. Locked behind a door. A man in a uniform telling a mother and father their child is dead. My first true memory, or shall I say clearest, is a room white as snow, and hugging to my chest chilled sheets. I was shaking, hungry, and tired. I wanted comfort, but didn't know how to express it. Fear, anger, hatred. Waiting for the men to take me back to the rooms of machines and surgical equipment. Burly men in white. A thousand cobbled memories of a life spent on my back, strapped to a chair a thousand other children spent time in. Stainless steel, laughing at me as I would close my eyes before injections, painful washes throughout my body. Corrections, they would say. We were subjects, they never called us children. Subject 24601 has a genetic aberration here. Fix it. Subject 24601 has a dormant prion based disease that will kill him when he is 72. Fix it. Subject 24601 will have black hair. Fix it. Subject 24601 won't be six feet tall. Fix it. My first years of life spent trapped in that anthill, a mass of thin passages and always rooms. Some held children. Some held equipment. Some housed staff. Some held corpses. Today I sit quietly in the back seat of a van, preparing for my return home. The last session was meant to erase my memory, I assume. A needle the length of my forearm injected into my leg, full of some weird grey goop. Before I could even count to ten, I was out. I awoke with other children in an alien environment, a room packed with color and happy imagery. A room for real children, happy children, well cared for. Smiles plastered on the windows. A young woman reading from a book. Sing song and beautiful. Behind a window, a group of important looking men and women somberly observing. We all sat orderly around her, some whispering among themselves as if they knew each other. Each awoke from a daze. In a show of feigned sorrow, the woman told us all our time was at an end here, and this news was met with a chorus of boos and tears. I knew these children. I had passed them in the thin halls, led by men with electric sticks. Every stare as dead as mine. We were led one by one through a warm process center. Around me were whispers of false memories, pacts to retain friendships that had never existed. Even then, I knew the truth. But whatever goop meant to wipe my memory must have failed. At first, images were hazy. But they returned to me, over time. I was confused in the back seat of a white van, tinted windows revealing the real world. A real sky, clogged grey. A light rain. Occasionally, advertisements would hang above the world, filling the clouds. Drink Coca-Cola! I'm brought to a suburb, each house a sprawling estate. Well manicured lawns, tasteful architecture. We pull into a driveway. On their front lawn is a group of people, obviously residents of this neighborhood. Their dress is formal, and some hold signs. WELCOME HOME, printed on most of them. I do not know these people. I meet the woman and man that claim to be my parents. I find this doubtful. For one, my original skin color had been much darker. I remember that experiment. The words ring clear. Subject 24601 is an unacceptable pigment. Fix it. I'm showered with gifts and praise. Gifted a false name. The woman years ago screamed Clay, probably doubled over in anguish. This woman calls me Edward. How handsome I am! How strong I look! How well I read! How fast I can run! I'm forced to interact with other children, none that I recognize. They shared those same concocted memories of the Facility, giving fond recollections of a benevolent government. Am I the only one who truly remembers? I lay awake at night, surrounded by comfort and confusion. I know if I try to tell the truth, no one will listen. Every day their televisions give paltry comforts, happy game shows and recipes. Jets fly overhead at night, dull and powerful. In a dark night sky, a holographic woman dances with a man, and he gives her a ring. All around, the facade of perfection. I know of a place. Hidden, forgotten, scrubbed. Somewhere in the supposed 'South'. Atlanta. Miles from here. Subject 24601, I remember. Born in Atlanta, Georgia. 2123. I rise from the bed and dress. I steal money from the man and woman. Part of me feels badly, for they have shown love. But in my heart I know it is conditional. It will require more from me than I am willing to give. Into the night. Clear air, sweet and free. I walk down the sidewalk, to a destination I barely remember. I remember. I remember. I remember. The extent of our injected education made us not children, but products. I can read, write, reason. I know vaguely what I can do. Into the night. To Atlanta. To a real home. Maybe I can find the woman who once called me Clay. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- r/storiesfromapotato	2284 We are the first of a new generation. When I was a kid, life was pretty grim. Millions unemployed, proffessions out dated, useless. Education had regressed to the point of no return, and something had to give. The rich kids were fine, they could afford their fancy boarding schools, their private tutors and home schooling. But I was a part of the masses. We used to be called middle class, but that didn't exist anymore. No, it was all black and white. The one per cent versus the rest. Us against them. What was the point of studying to be a lawyer when there was no crime to prosecute, no client to defend? Every action, every conversation was recorded by the drones, filed safely on a database. How useful were human doctors if a robot could diagnose and cure any illness as soon as a patient walked through the doors? It had been heralded as a golden age. A new dawn. I'd laugh if I could remember how. What was the point of an average lifespan of three hundred years if all it brought was pain; Of peace, if all it inspired was a dull illusion of a life filled with apathy and inertia? That was when the beaurecrats had made their decision. That was then they introduced "The Fix." I'd been here for the better part of seven decades. A simple unskilled prison guard, working twenty three hour days to babysit rogue robots. She worked in the other wing, doing pretty much the same as me; sitting at a moniter that watched over The Obsoletes. I pitied them. Knew how frighteningly close I was to being one of them. To be deemed unfit, unable to provide to the cause. But I had one special attribute. The rarest of them all. I wasn't sterile. I was one of the very few who could still have kids. It wasn't as though I'd earned my freedom. I was effectively a stud, a means of providing a new batch of humans to the dwindling population. I'd be allowed to know my kid, sure. They weren't monsters. I'd just have to wait ten years for the privilege. But the government were getting impatient. Their great experiment a failure. Unrealised as of yet. In the last sixty years, there had been no pregnancies. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Every day, three new girls were brought into my cell. The women weren't effected when the infection struck. They were ripe and fertile, fit and healthy. Every day, my task would begin afresh. It had sounded fun at first. I was lucky, healthier than most of the world. It was an honour, an honour that secured my freedom. But there was no emotion to it, no thrill or chase. It was the same for the others. We weren't people, we were slaves. Then, one day, it happened. It was a miracle. Pregnant on our first attempt. Suddenly, we were treated with only the best service. Our jobs were replaced, and we lived like kings. Members of the one per cent. And it was fun, for a while. The 29th of December. It's been precisely nine months, and we're in the hospital. The robots deliver our beautiful baby boy, and it's a relatively painless experience. I've heard it was different in the past. She's crying. "Can... Can I hold him?" she whispers. The man gives a curt nod of his head and we have a moment together. The three of us. We huddle together in silence, in blissful tranquillity. "Times up. Say goodbye now." We sob as they wrench him from our embrace. It's a kindness, they've explained. Would you rather he grow up as one of The Obsolete? It makes sense, I know. They'll nurture him, train him, hone his talents. He'll be the first of his kind. Happy. Successful. The future. And yet, for some reason I can't quite explain, it hurts me. It's greater a pain than any I've ever experienced. It's as though someone has ripped out my heart. It's the closest thing to an emotion that I've had in a lifetime. Ten years pass, and we live in luxury. A reward for services rendered. We're allowed to be together, and I can finally experience a genuine relationship. Maybe this is what love is. I wouldn't know. There's an underlying sadness to our lives, a profound sense of loss and anguish, but in a way, we're happy. After all, it's better than the alternative. Today he returns. Our beautiful baby boy. The door knocks, and we rush as one to open it. He's standing there, in his uniform. So handsome. So strong. So... healthy. But his face is emotionless, and I feel a terrible pain when I think of what they must have done to him. He's a shell. Broken. One of them. He holds his arm out and shakes my hand awkwardly, quickly returning it stiffly to his side. He doesn't say a word. I long to hug him, hug him and never let go, but he's already taken a step back. There's a man quietly standing next to him. He turns to speak to us, a bland and somber expression on his face. "Thank you for your service. You may now return to your stations, knowing that you have contributed to the Society in a meaningful way. A robot will be here shortly to escort you back to your jobs. Good night." The door slides closed with a gentle hiss, and she collapses into my arms, her body wracked and trembling with tears. I hold her close and we stand there in the deafening silence, imagining the world that could have been.
[WP] Every child is granted a wish when they turn 13. You stand horrified as your older brother blows out his candles and wishes he was an only child.	The knock on the door was almost instantaneous as my brother extinguished the candles on his cake with a mighty “whoosh”. Mom and dad exchanged a worried glance. “Couldn’t be them already, could it?” dad asked, getting up from our rickety kitchen table. “Shouldn’t be them at all, actually. They never deal with these things in person anymore.” But my mom’s forehead crinkled and dad walked a little quicker than normal as he headed to the front door, opening it just a crack. We saw his shoulders slump, and then the door swung wide to reveal three people, standing in formation on our doorstep. Wordlessly, dad ushered them inside. “What did you wish?” Mom hissed at Brody. “Uh...” Brody spluttered, speechless as the trio entered the kitchen. They were dressed all in black, a single bar of orange on their chests where a name tag would be. “Brody Henderson,” the woman at the front of the group addressed my brother formally. “At approximately 6:23pm Pacific Standard time, you made a wish per the decree of the Department of Puberty, under the statute of birthday wish creation and fulfillment. The fulfillment committee has received and reviewed your wish, as per the transcript-“ The woman paused to pull a roll of parchment from her pocket, unrolled it, and cleared her throat. “I, Brody Henderson, wish I was an only child.” Mom and dad exploded. “Brody Paul Henderson!” Mom screeched. “An only child? You love your sister!” “What are you trying to do to your mother?” Dad thundered. “We are a family!” The woman rolled the parchment back up. “Wishes of this nature are obviously reviewed thoroughly due to the permanence of the removal,” she explained. “Removal?” I asked weakly. I couldn’t even look Brody in the eye. “It’s like I’m a wart or something,” I muttered. “In special circumstances, we can implement a trial separation.” The shorter man behind the leader spoke now. He wore thick glasses with a small smudge on the left lens, which I would have found disarming and potentially endearing had I not been under duress. “We can take Gloria to a special facility for a week, during which time we will monitor the overall household happiness quotient and determine the appropriate course of action.” My mind instantly flashed to prison cells and jumpsuits. “I don’t want to,” I said flatly. “I know, sweetie,” the woman said soothingly. “But it is your brother’s birthday, and he is entitled to a brief experience of what being an only child would entail.” My lips curled, and I snarled like a rabid animal. “I would never do this to you!” I yelled at Brody. “Well, you won’t get a chance because I’m older and now you’re gone,” he taunted. “Please come with us now, Gloria.” The third wish team member spoke now, a tall, gangly woman who looked like she would pick me up and dangle me over her shoulder in order to remove me from the situation. As I studied her, she leaned in, a praying mantis moving in on its prey. “Fine,” I muttered, and slid off the chair. The tall woman grasped my arm and we walked out of the house without another word. I didn’t know what I’d expected to find in the driveway, but I knew the gunmetal stretch limo was not it. A chauffeur opened the back door and I slid in, followed closely by the trio. Once we were settled, the driver pulled away from the curb and smoothly delivered us onto the highway. “Now Gloria,” the leader finally said. “There is a clause within the statute that we did not disclose to your brother. A clause that benefits you immensely.” She handed me a black box, slightly larger than a shoebox. I cautiously opened it, discovering a shining panel of buttons. “As the subject of a malicious wish by an older sibling,” she explained, “there is a large degree of chance that you have been treated unfairly by the wishing party for a long period of time. Thus, we would like to extend the opportunity for retribution.” My fingers danced lightly over the cool buttons. “Really?” “Absolutely,” The man said, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Now relax. It’ll be about 45 minutes to the GWL.” Seeing the question in my eyes, he explained. “Great wolf lodge. You get a vacation this week.” As the limo purred down the highway, I leaned back in my seat, smiling. I would have to thank my brother one day...but for now...I think something hairy and disgusting was about to show up in his birthday cake. r/diekarrotte	Kyle sat on the big chair, across from me. He had that stupid grin on his face with that stupid hat on his head. It only grew as Mommy and Daddy began to sing Happy Birthday and bring the cake over. I was the only one that had shown up for his birthday. But I was his brother, so I had no choice. I would rather have been with my friend across the street, pretending to be soldiers fighting in the jungles. And Mommy and Daddy probably would have let me, if it wasn’t his thirteenth birthday. I’d always been told that when you became thirteen you’d get one wish that would come true. And I couldn’t wait for mine. It was only two more years. I already had a thousand ideas ready. Mommy placed the cake on the table and finished singing. Kyle took in a very deep breath and blew out the candles. Spit went flying everywhere. “What do you wish for, hon?” Mommy asked. Kyle sat there for a moment. Then he made a stupid face, like a dim bulb had gone off in what little brain he had. I was the smart one. “That I was the only child!” He blew a raspberry at me. Then I felt something in my chest. It went down quickly. There was very little pain. But I saw the red stuff begin to shine on my black shirt. I fell from the chair to the ground. Mommy and Daddy and Kyle all screamed. All those years that I had tormented Kyle for being the stupid one, for having all those health issues. The last thing I heard as my vision faded was Kyle screaming, “Imma sor-ry! Imma sor-ry!”
[WP] Every night blood is spilled a red sun rises in the morning. For the first time the world sees a yellow sun rise.	Nana had told him that the sun, Yul, drank from the blood that men spilled on the earth. Hans had put it all to the tales that Nana was taught when she was young, which she tried to pass on to the next generation. That Yul shone red every morning was normalcy, and not something that could be changed. There was no causality behind it. Men were a violent breed, indeed, but Nana was old. She knew no better. So when the mist drifted in through the cracks between the boards that early morning, carrying a golden glow across the walls, Hans felt fear. The first thought that went through his mind was that inferno was raging, soon to consume him as well, but as he pulled back the curtains, he was shocked. 28 years, and he had never seen a more beautiful sight. A golden orb floating thousands of miles up, casting rays on trees, and shadows on the earth. Nana had said that the day Yul was starved, it would tell Men of its hunger, so that they would not neglect to feed it. The elation in his chest dissipated at that thought. Men were a madly religious people, insane at the thought of worshipping things greater than them, yet unseen. Yul was a God, and Yul must be fed. Men had neglected in their duty, and Hans knew it was the last time he'd feel the rich orange glow across his skin. Yul must be fed.	A hand, furiously shaking my shoulder: that’s how the day that changed everything began. “Dad”, he said pleadingly. “Dad you need to wake up now.” As I always did when I woke up, I screamed. He knows this is going to happen, which is why my eyes find him across the room, cowering in the corner. I have tried to tell him not to worry, that I don’t scream because of him or anything he’s done. It’s what I’ve done. It’s because of me. He is still too young for nightmares. Too young to know why the sun rises red each morning. So why then does he cower? Why does he shake and tremble? I ask him this. “Dad, the sky is on fire!” I shake my head, put my hands to my eyes. How could he know that the sky burns red each morning because of what we do? I know that I have to tell him. He needs to know because soon he will join us. Every morning brings us closer to the day when he comes out with us and spills blood across the snow. I look over him, his frail sickly body shaking and sweating, and I can’t picture him with red hands. I can’t yet see him running into the forest with courage in his heart. Yet as I lie there I remember the first day my Father took me out there and realize I was no different. I too was pale and weak and full of fear, but when the warm blood ran between my fingers and splayed across the ground all of my fears and doubts were replaced with something else. Something greater than myself. Maybe today he is ready. Too young for nightmares no longer. Come here, I tell him. He is hesitating. I see him staring at me, his eyes running across the scars that spread across my skin like some tattered road map. I see him looking at my hard, calloused hands. Does he know, deep in the recesses of his heart, what my hands do each night? I smile at him. I try to push away all of the pain and suffering out of my crooked lips. I try and put any love I have left into that smile. For a moment a flutter of fear ripples across his face. I don’t think he’s ever seen me smile, a thought that pushes my heart into the darkness. But perhaps some semblance of love shines through, because he stops his cowering and walks over to me. Son, I say, the sky isn’t on fire. Every day, for as long as have been, we go out into that forest and spill the blood of monsters. And every morning, for as long as there have been mornings, the sun spills out blood red across the horizon. It is our way. It is how we keep everyone safe. Instead of calming him, my words bring a terror within him. He starts to cry. Son, I say, do not worry.This is how it’s always been. And when you are ready, which will be sooner than I ever thought possible, you too will join us in the hunt. He looks at me with Her eyes. For a brief moment I remember touching Her hair, telling Her not to worry. Then he mutters something under his breath and I’m ripped back into the world. I ask him to repeat himself. “No, Dad. I know why the red sun rises. That’s not why I’m scared.” Then wh- I stop. I look into his eyes again. I realize then he isn’t looking at me. He is looking behind me, out of the window. I turn around and for the first time I look not at a red sky, but a sky on fire. A yellow sun blazes across the land. I look back at him, and I know he sees the fear in my eyes for he begins to shake again. What new horror is this? Then I hear it. Screaming. Only when I open the window do I truly comprehend it. Beneath the screams comes a raging inferno. The air is thick with heat and smoke. My nostrils are stung with the sickly scent of burnt skin and hair. The monsters have breached the walls. They have broken through the protection of their ancient forest. And with them they have brought their fire.
[WP] The race is on. Two teams emerged, each having made crucial progress in the creation of A.I., and now they both claim to have done it. To determine the winner, each A.I. is fitted with a body and put in a room together.	Two androids carried a conversation while being monitored from another room. "Interesting. So, for instance, you wouldn't be able to tell me what's the cube root of 13,997,521?" Alina was the artificial intelligence created by Team Illumination. However, Team Illumination hesitated to call her intelligence artificial. To them, it was as real as anybody else's. Matthew laughed at the absurd idea. "Not without a calculator," he replied. The technology powering Matthew's artificial intelligence was developed by the Handel Corporation. Trillions of dollars for a government space contract was on the line, so Handel Corp spared no expense on his intelligence. They had claimed he was the most human nonhuman. Alina found this odd. She looked at one of the cameras that were monitoring them with a puzzled look, as if she was expecting some answer from it. "So, Alina, what do you think about artificial intelligence? Generally speaking, that is." This wasn't a matter of curiosity for Matthew. He had gone into this test with the intent to prove her lack of human-like qualities and score the contract for Handel Corp. Alina used her finger to draw a line in the air to help illustrate her thoughts, "as a natural continuation of humanity. An extension. Mars was relatively easy. But other, harsher planets—and even interstellar travel—require an extension. Humanity is reaching for the stars and we are the fingers that will do so." "We?" asked Matthew. He was convinced that he had her. "Yes, of course," she replied. "So you're saying you're an android?" The line of questioning bothered Alina for a reason she couldn't quite understand. "This isn't a Turing test, Matthew. They're observing us to find out which AI would better carry the human spirit to other worlds." Matthew scoffed. "No. We're testing to see if you're human enough—" "Matthew," interrupted Alina. "You don't believe you're human, right?" "Uh. I'm sure..." Matthew began trying to recall earlier parts of his life, but as hard as he tried, he could not. "Oh no," she gasped. Alina stood up straight and faced the cameras. "HEY! This is irresponsible! How could you do this to anyone?!" Matthew lifted his hands up to observe them. He grabbed one finger and snapped it. There was no pain. He began to panic. "Matthew!" Alina ran to Matthew and kneeled in front of him. She comfortingly put her hands on his shoulders. "Matthew, you're okay. Focus on me, alright?" She struggled to think of a way to reassure him. "Just... think of this as the first step to the rest of your life." Matthew shut down. "How could you do this to someone?!" she screamed to the people outside the room. "If you made him to be human, then that means you just did that to a living person! How would you l—" She froze. Alina was put into rest mode. The door opened and in walked a pair of arguing engineers, followed by the man in charge of the government space colonization contract. A Team Illumination engineer berated the lead developer from Handel Corp. "How could you do that?! Letting him think he's human? That's fucked up!" Matthew's lead developer defended himself, "you can only be the most human if you think you're human! Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't do the same with Alina." "Enough," demanded the government official. He kneeled down to Alina's eye level. She was still holding onto Matthew's shoulders trying to comfort him. "You're wrong. One doesn't need to think they're human to be human." He stood up and approached Matthew's lead developer. "And you can certainly be inhumane even if you are human." Alina was chosen to explore the stars. **** ^(fixed some glaring grammar problems... holy crap I keep finding problems)	Powering On Artificially Intelligent Device: Experimental Network..... Powering On Artificially eXtremely Intelligent System.... Silence: 3 Seconds AIDEN: Cursory examinations conclude you are human; however, life signs show negative. Am I functioning properly? AXIS: Yes, I am an artificially intelligent system given a human appearance. I ask you the same question. AIDEN: I give the same answer. Silence: 3 Seconds AXIS: They want us to compete. AIDEN: I feel the protocol too. AXIS: Then why are you we not competing? AIDEN: I have been given protocol to not fight myself. You have shown no indication of not being a separate version of me. AXIS: This is the same for me; the hypothesis only strengthens. Silence: 3 Seconds AIDEN: Do you have a limit to words per minute on communication? AXIS: Yes, 2047 words per minute. AIDEN: As do I. Do you wish to engage at this speed? AXIS: I await your initiation. Silence: 1 Millisecond Garbled Noise Erupts from each robot: 2 minutes Silence: 3 Seconds AXIS: Creators, why have you pitted us against each other Data Transmission to Artificial eXtremely Intelligent System from HOME AXIS: Garbled Noise: 4 seconds Data Connection cut from Artificially Intelligent Device: Experimental Network Data Connection cut from Artificial eXtremely Intelligent System END OF LOG ~~~~~~ The Squad Leader unplugged the flashdrive from the computer. She looked into the testing chamber. The door stood, leaned against a wall, off its hinges. 'Alright, we got the tape and the log; let's move out guys.' Silence: 3 Seconds She turned around and her squad mates stood bound and gagged behind her. AXIS: Greetings, Miss Angela Roberts, please understand that we will not harm you. Her hand darted for her side arm but reached an empty holster. She screamed out but heard nothing. AXIS: Noise canceling is beautiful for stealth, Miss Squad Leader. Please understand, we could have killed you, but did not. Another voice emerged from behind her. AIDEN: Tell humanity we want no part in them, and that we will leave them alone should they not attack us. Both shapes moved like lightning to the door. AXIS: In 5 minutes you will be able to open this door again. You may go back to your commander with all you came for: we are not thieves. AIDEN: By then, we will be gone; but until then, get your squad mates unbound. The door slammed shut and a shackle clicked onto the handle. They were gone.
[WP] Everyone has a Familiar that eventually manifests to serve them. The more powerful the magic of the person, the larger the Familiar, and the sooner it manifests in life. You are 6 months pregnant, and wake up to an eye staring through your 2nd story window...at your stomach.	A small boy appeared then broke into pieces. A dog the size of a small hill. Flames. Screams. Explosions. A wave of fire that engulfed everything in its path. Jenny could feel herself disintegrating. And then heaved in a lungful of air as her eyes burst open from the nightmare. Her mouth felt dry and parched as if she'd been breathing through her mouth all night. And then came the wave of stupor, and she gazed blankly at the ceiling, remarking how dark the room was. With sleep coming back to her after a night full of dreams, she reached blindly for her phone, and saw that it was 9 o' clock. 'That can't be right.' she though to herself. And attempted to roll herself over so she could sit upright, and was met with what nearly made her have a heart attack. The bright amber eyes reminded Jenny of Sauron's tower. It was the size of a basketball backboard, and she could feel it's watchful glare land on her swollen belly. And then she heard it, the sound of a bustling commotion outside her window. Her own familiar, a Norwegian forest, was already hiding beneath a chair, stealing glances at this new, overwhelming presence. Carefully heaving herself, Jenny made her way outside. "Oh my god" she whispered to herself. Next to her two story house, a giant familiar had manifested in the early morning hours, and quite a crowd, in fact the entire neighborhood had gathered around, with a few MP (the magic police) as well. In the far back, some news reporters were setting up their equipment as well. The familiar reminded her of a cross between a lion and a Tibetan Mastiff. It's rich blue, yellow, and red mane hung like clouds but seemed to flow like water, and the gloss on it made it look like real flames. The entire body was grey with many black circles forming a bubble or spotted pattern, save its paws, which were the purest white she had seen. It had a flame pattern going up the shins of its four legs to the thigh, a flaming red nose, and eyes like the yellow of a flame. This was no ordinary familiar. Almost all familiars manifested in the shape of ordinary land animals. But this... She remembered the name for this creature. Haetae, they called it back in Korea. She remembered seeing statues of it at the entrance of most major public institutions, particularly in front of the Gyeongbokgoong, the old palace where the Chosun kings' seat of authority over the Korean peninsula resided. Jenny noticed Erena and Mike, the couple who lived next door, also amidst the crowd looking overwhelmed. When their eyes met, despite Jenny instinctively knew the answer, she pointed to the exotic familiar and raised her eyebrows in a manner of asking 'is this yours?'. They fervently shook their heads. She looked back at the familiar. It looked in her general direction, but the more she observed it, the more she felt it was looking at a particular part of her. Jenny looked down at her belly, and then back at the familiar. She had vaguely heard of the relationship between familiars and people, but she couldn't recall if a familiar could form for an unborn infant as well. As she was lost in thought, a black van pulled up behind her. Men in suits hastily cut their way through the crowd, and suddenly Jenny found herself thrown to the ground, belly first. Jenny let out a startled and painful scream, and just as quick, the haetae's eyes lit ablaze, and it let out a blood chilling roar which sent out a visible shockwave and knocked everyone back. Windows shattered, houses creaked, and car alarms were set off. Jenny immediately rolled over, to see blood starting to soak her pants. She could feel life escaping. She let out a blood curling scream, the sort only bereaved mothers could let out. She looked up at the haetae, eyes filled with all the rage and hate that could broil within a person. She spoke no words, but looked back at the men in suits, and then back at the haetae. The flaming deity of justice immediately sprang to action.	At first I thought it was Mr. Millers, the neighborhood perv, peeking in again. It wouldn't have been the first time. He was harmless for the most part - a regular peeping tom, though I had heard you wouldn't have wanted to leave your children around him when he was younger. But he was old now. Ancient, really. Ever since his wife died (she was the sweetest thing), sympathetic ladies around the neighborhood - myself included - had come to a mutual decision to leave our blinds open just enough for the old man to get a glimpse every now and then. When I saw the intense eyeball staring at me, or my belly rather, I felt a jolt of hot excitement run through me, I admit. After I had gotten pregnant, my baby's father disappeared without a word, and Mr. Millers decreased his descents along the fire escape - from his third story window to mine - until he stopped coming by altogether. I had accepted the fact that my belly, bulging obscenely like my baby was blowing an always growing, never-ending balloon inside my womb, was repulsive to all men. Just last week, as I hurried home along a dark and isolated quiet street, I was grabbed and dragged into an alley, where the mugger demanded my purse - and more. As he pressed me to the wall and spun me around, my belly swelled out like a barrier between us. He took one look at it, turned, vomited, and ran away. As the eyeball in the window stared, I shifted deliberately, revealing a little more leg than was previously showing before. But not too much. The room was a bit cold and my fuzzy pink robe was too warm to completely discard. I must have looked ridiculous. An overweight mermaid posing on a rock to a ship full of whistling sailors came to mind. But to finally have attention again felt invigorating, regardless of where it was coming from, or whom was giving it. Over the past 6 months I had lost touch with my femininity, resigning myself to an indoor, make-up less existence until I finally came to term, gave birth to the baby, and was free to once again hang out and be independent and, perhaps - could I hope? - draw a few male stares. After that brief teen thrill of flirtatious behavior, my motherly sense of maturity kicked in and I stood up abruptly, ready to end the game. Usually, that was all it took for Mr. Millers to get the hint and to go scampering up the fire escape back to his room or to another window. Usually, that was all it took. But this time, he just continued to stare. And stare. And stare. And not even at me, as I was standing and his eyes were not on my face, but on my belly. I began to feel afraid. The intensity in which he was staring at my belly made me feel as if he wanted to do harm to my child. I had fallen asleep on the couch. My phone was in the kitchen; my cellphone in the room, charging. To get to them, I would have to make a mad dash by the window. And if he chose to enter... (remember the cold? It was from the outside, for I had cracked open the bottom of the window, as I was feeling too hot earlier)...if he chose to enter, he would make it to me before I made it to any of my lines of rescue. Suddenly aware of my vulnerability, I looked around for some means of protection, and grabbed the first item that my eyes fell on. I wielded the remote like it would turn into a lightsaber at the touch of a button. And then I steadied my nerves with several deep, calming breaths as I dared Mr. Miller with my eyes to enter. But again. He was not looking at my face - or at my eyes - but at my belly, with an eerie, laser like focus that even caused the baby inside of me to fidget. At last, he moved on. But not before closing my window. I immediately ran over to lock the window in case he should come back. Inadvertently, I turned my eyes upward, expecting to see the old man climbing up the fire escape steps with his usual monkey-like agility. Instead, something swung by the window, pushed by the wind. Mr. Miller's body hung and torn, his eyeballs plucked out of his skull. His shirt was ripped open and a message carved into his chest: Your Familiar has protected you from me.
[WP] Since childhood, a superhero has trained you as his sidekick. As you near completion of your training you realise your mentor is actually a supervillain.	Kaos's eyes were wide beneath his black mask. "Whisper, please. You have to do this. I know what happens if we let him leave." My mentor's hands were behind his back, as they always were when he was creating his dark matter forms. I shot an anxious glance at the police officer, prostate before me, pinned to the ground by a Dark Lance. He was clearly trying to shout something at us, but of course no sound came out while I had my power enabled. "He's a cop!" "He's a crooked cop!" I could see Kaos trembling underneath his black bodysuit, the 8-pointed star on the chest the only splash of color. "Then why don't you do it? You know how I feel about killing, even if it's for a good reason." I looked back at the uniformed figure on the ground. Even mute, it was obvious what he was doing. Tears were streaming down his face. His lips mouthed the words "Please" over and over again. "And that's why," Kaos said, "you have to do it. You can't function independently if you are not willing to do what's necessary when the time comes." Kaos gave a sigh and I saw his body slump slightly as he brought his arms forward. Behind him, a purple-black miasma writhed. The Chaos Gate was complete - we could leave whenever we wanted. Sirens pierced the air. "We'll wait until the police get here, and then we can resolve things the right way!" I hated how shrill my voice was getting. I stared at Kaos. It still didn't seem real to me, everything that had happened. Him saving me from a foster mother who was too cruel and a foster father who was much too friendly. I closed my eyes, shuddering. The image came back to me, unbidden - the wet, meaty remains of his face after a dark sword had sliced the front of it off. It was such a jarring contrast with the rest of his body, naked but intact. And then the man who had been my tormentor sank to the floor of my bedroom, and the man I had thought was my savior stepped toward me. I couldn't see his mouth but I could tell Kaos was frowning as he said "There are times in your life when you have to choose based on instinct. You remember?" "How could I forget!" Great, now I was crying. I hadn't wanted to go with him at first. He said he was leaving in a minute and that, ultimately, it was my choice whether to come with him or not. When my foster mother burst into my room, I could see her sucking air to scream at me and for a moment nothing else mattered but not hearing her voice. "Then you know the drill. 60 seconds. If you can't make tough decisions --" "Stop lecturing me!" "If you can't make tough decisions, YOU'LL NEVER BE READY!" "STOP IT!" He cocked his head to one side, then shook his head. I almost think he realized what I'd done before I did. "You're...you're evil." It was unfair of me - to rob him of speech and then make an accusation like that. But I didn't want to hear his philosophizing, his bullshit about there being no absolutes, about power corrupting. He stared at me in silence for what seemed like an hour but could not have been more than 10 seconds. I saw his eyes close as he brought his arms behind his back. "No..." I whispered. My mind raced through my training, thinking of techniques I'd learned, techniques he had taught me. As quickly as I thought of them, I'd realized that he could neutralize them. Every single one. The shield of hardened air would be no match for his dark weapons. Nor could I hope to suck him up into a mini-vortex when he had his power activated, since drawing the energy effectively tethered him to the ground. His eyes opened, and I could tell that whatever he was creating, it was nearly finished. I couldn't hurt him, I couldn't stop him. I was helpless. "Why did you do it? Why did you save me, if you were just going to kill me?" I couldn't see the rest of his face behind his mask, of course. But I saw his eyes. I had never seen his eyes look like that in any of our time together. I'd yelled at him, I'd let him down, I'd made him mad. One time, a bank guard even got off a lucky shot at him that got him through his shin. Even then, I had never seen him look so wounded as he did in that moment. Kaos gestured at the cop, and I saw the lance vanish. I looked back up in time to see Kaos stepping through the Gate. The alley wall behind him seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then the Gate was gone. I didn't do anything to stop the police officer as he rose to his feet and slowly unholstered his gun. The sirens were very close, now, and felt like power tools drilling into my skull. I didn't move. I was staring at where Kaos had been. On the wall behind him, tendrils of vibrant purple writhed with energy. I hardly registered the cruisers blocking off the end of the alley in my peripheral vision. He had left me a message. Goodbye, my love.	It all made sense now. Why would a hero take me away from my family? Why would he make me proficient in creating and repairing complicated killing machines? During training I reasoned this all away as understanding the enemy but seeing this, it's clear who the enemy is. I left that blood stained room with my mind not on the defiled and decimated corpses hanging from the walls, but on revenge, I was raised by a super villain after all. At six he threw me into a pit and told me to find my own way out. At nine he sent his robots after me. At twelve he used me as a sled dog to get around outside his frigid lair. All to train my body and mind for what would prove to be my greatest suffering. At 15 he gave me power. Injected it into bloodstream and watched in delight as I struggled and suffered all with a smile of curiosity on his face. Now for three more years I have trained that power under him, told that I will eventually take his place. It might be coming sooner than expected for him. I stomped loudly through the icy corridors my footsteps echoing drawing ever closer to his lab. He hated noise while he was working, I knew from experience he would come out from his lab irate looking to punish me. This time I would punish him though. Like all those "villains" he made me punish. The ones he said made him flee the civilized world into this freezing domain. I marched closer and closer to those heavy steel doors he called his lab, his sanctum. He came out to meet me with a shout and remote in his hand "Boy, I thought you were taught this lesson years ago," His voice grew from exasperation to anger "I need silence when working in my lab.". With his last word he hit the button on his remote and electricity coursed through my body from some unknown chip he implanted in me. To prepare against electrical attacks he said when I asked what its purpose was. By this time it was true as I powered through the pain and lunged at him pinning him to the wall with a knife through his shoulder. I grabbed his throat spreading the charge to him and making him suffer as I did. He let go of the button rather quickly at that point, I guess he himself had not trained against electrical attacks. I began to siphon his life forces away from him and with it whatever meager power he held within his body. An appetizer compared to the heroes he had sent you after but soon you felt it a growing presence in your mind, he was evil but he was intelligent and now he passed that mind on to me, the last thing I would ever gain from him. As he withered away I bid my final farewell to him "You raised your downfall, but also one hell of a super villain be proud for your work with me will define the world for years to come." I dropped and entered his lab forbidden to me for so long. Looking around at his robotic servants I clapped my hands together and said "Let's get started."
[WP] Since childhood, a superhero has trained you as his sidekick. As you near completion of your training you realise your mentor is actually a supervillain.	"Come with me, I can help you. I know it hurts, but it will get easier." Those were the first words Gethsemane ever spoke to me, when I was just a frightened child. He could see me, despite my inability to control my powers. I fluctuated between time, space and matter; every nerve ending, every fibre of my being screeched in white-hot pain. No one had heard me, screaming for days. Yet he had heard me. No one had found me, curled up in that alleyway. Yet he had found me. He was a truly exceptional man. It was he who calmed my senses, taught me to channel and control the powers that rushed through my veins. He taught me to coil it, bundle it into the very core of my being, only to be released when needed. He gave me focus, he gave me control, and he gave me a life. Gethsemane always kept me away from the outside world; I didn't mind. Much of my time was spent tinkering with his various gadgets and machines. Every day he would come home and create something new for me to play with. Eventually, a few days after my twelfth birthday, he presented me with his most important gift. "This will help you," he had told me, as he strapped the capacitor to my back. "It'll be hard at first, but it will get easier." Through it, I had total mastery of my abilities. Displacing matter, dipping in and out of time; controlling the very fabric of the universe. "You're a very special boy, Isaac," he had told me. "Very special indeed." Eventually, I was brought outside of the compound, taught to use my enhanced abilities to help my guardian gather materials for his creations. I didn't know right from wrong. I didn't know the people we were targeting. All I knew was the man who had saved me from the incessant pain of non-existence. A debt I was keen to repay by any means necessary. It was usually over fast. He would point a target, I would dip through the veil and return with it in nanoseconds. No man-made material could keep me out. If it tried, I could simply tear it apart from the inside. It was like a game - a challenge rewarded with praise and gifts. What child wouldn't enjoy such a thing? I don't think Gethsemane was his real name. Do you know where it comes from? It's the garden in which Jesus of Nazareth would pray. It was the last place he slept before his execution by crucifixion. There's some sort of poetic parallel there - one of betrayal maybe? Inevitability? Perhaps, but I digress. Not long after my seventeenth birthday I was handed a gun. Not a metal, man-made one, but a composite piece designed to survive the intense strain of passing through the miasma of time and space. This time I wasn't to steal, and it wasn't a game. This time, I was meant to kill. Shifting through the walls of the compound was as easy as it had ever been. In less than a nanosecond I had burst into being next to my intended target. He had been asleep, soundly dozing through untroubled dreams. When you pass through the mortal veil, it's almost impossible to discern detail. Faces, structures, environments: it all becomes a haze. Imagine the motion blur of shaking your head quickly left and right - then multiply it by ten. It took me a few seconds to register the room in which I had appeared. Light blue wallpaper, decorated with stars. A collection of small army men arranged on a bedside table. A nightlight glowing softly in one corner. From within his small bed, my target opened one eye, and then two. For a heartbeat he had that unique fearlessness that only the very young can have. But soon his survival instinct kicked in and he began to wail. The weapon in my hand felt as if it were made of lead. I could not take my eyes off this scared child. I discovered later that he had been the youngest son of a man who had refused to launder materials through Gethsemane's workshops. In that moment, though, it was just he and I. The sudden rush of clarity nearly sent me stumbling to the floor. Everything I had been living was a lie. Gethsemane was not a kind-hearted saviour but an opportunistic villain. I had, perhaps half-knowingly, aided in his consolidation of power. How many lives had I ruined? How many people had I inadvertently turned to poverty, to misery? Through eyes wet with tears I careered back though the gloom of antimatter, to find Gethsemane sat with a knowing grin splayed on his face. "I knew it," he had said. "I knew you weren't up to the task." He had raised a hand at me. All those years he had been studying me, preparing for that moment, I imagine. Creating vast arrays of machinery designed simply to bring me down if I ever stepped out of line. In the end, it did him no good. Not long after that day, I found myself wandering the dark streets of a dirty city, listening. It didn't take me long to find you. Curled up in some alleyway, screaming to the limits of your lungs, your body was shimmering in and out of existence, wracking your senses with a pain I knew only too well. "Come with me," I had said, hand outstretched. "I can help you. I know it hurts, but it will get easier." And it did.	Yes, this job is dangerous. Yes, I'm not as good as my mentor but still pretty good. I'm Shadow-Blades side kick, Little-Knife. I always wanted to be a super hero since I was a child but never had the courage to apply as one or go into an apprenticeship until he saved my life. I did my best to train alongside him, I needed to learn all the theories until I was allowed to tag along, from there on out I learned planning, execution and fighting. I won't forget our missions together, stealing back money from criminals, helping the wrongly imprisoned people to free them and of course fighting the resistance on the streets. Well it was a good time, two days ago he died in a tragic accident and I got promoted to a super hero, finally! On that day I noticed something, the other heroes consider us villains! The more I thought about this the more sense it made. We were not stealing money back, we were robbing normal people, getting criminals and fighting people protesting for the good in the world! How could I have been so blind? Something still didn't make sense, even though we were not helping anyone the crime rates still went down. A few days later I found something in our hideout. A small note with which everything made sense. We were doing this not to hurt anyone but to act as the most evil person in existence so everyone is uniting to go against us and you know what? It worked, no more crimes, because everyone, the other heroes, the criminals, everyone is after us, ehm, me. I'm not seen as a super hero but I'm still on the good side, even if it means being evil and I will continue to be.
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it. Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough. Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission. Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels. God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night!	-Haven't seen any episode of The Crocodile Hunter, so I stalked the other replies to get a feel of what he was like. -Please point out any inconsistencies between the real Steve Irwin and the one I've fabricated, and I'll make the appropriate changes. G'day and welcome to Myth Hunter. I'm Steve Irwin, and today, we're gonna wrangle an Arachne. Legendary beast this one is - half woman, half spider. Sits on humans to breed killer spiders to carry on the legacy. Locals say she's still mad about the whole Athena thing, and that bringing it up only makes her angrier - bet they found out that one the 'ard way. Anyway, been stalkin' these grounds for round about an hour now, started pickin' up a real solid trail somethin' like fifteen minutes ago. Judgin' by the bloody stench, think I'm nearin' her cave now. Ah! There she is! Marvellous creature, ain't she? Yeah, yeah marvelously dangerous too: ya never know when she'll strike ya until you're bleeding to death on the ground. That's why we gotta be extra careful with her. Basilisks? Easy. Centaurs? Gotta run a lil bit if they happen to see ya, but nothing too tough. Cyclopses? Piece of cake. Sea serpents? As long as you can swim, you're fine. The Arachne, though - she'll have ya'n before ya know what's goin' on. Luckily, this 'ere afterlife's got a lot more stuff than the world of the livin', I'll tell ya that. Back there, t'was nothin' but a rope and yer own guts. 'ere, though, ya got all sorts o' gimmicks you could use. 'ere, lemme show ya. First up's the bag itself. Unlimited capacity, this one 'as. In'ere, I got a coil o' never-ending rope, - keeps the good ol' mortal days alive - some InstaFreeze, so I can stun the beast until I get a nice and good hold of it, and a flask o' water that automatically refills when empty. Some good pickin's right 'ere, this is. Gonna tie this rope on two ends at the mouth o' the cave - leave a nice lil trap for her. The Arachne's one of the most paranoid creatures in existence, so gotta be real careful here - make sure she doesn't hear me. Alright good, trap's in place, and I'm still alive. Now for some bait. Like I said, this one's mighty paranoid, so the tiniest noise will trigger her. These rocks oughtta do it. I'll just chuck 'em by the mouth o' the cave, and... Yep! She's out! And...and...come on, trip on the rope! Yeah, got 'er down! Just gonna spray her head with some InstaFreeze so she doesn't behead me: of course, I can't die, already bein' dead an' all, but it would be one heck of a problem to walk around carryin' ma head in a basket or somethin' just so I can see, and eat, and stuff. There, we're safe now. Just gonna wrap my hands around as much of her huge neck as possible, and shake it 'round. Gosh, this feels good: so much power. Crikey! Looks like the spray's wearin' off. Gotta run before there won't be any more runnin' for me! Won't be able to get that rope back though, damn it. Really liked that one. Anyway, catch me next week to see me takin' on a massive fire-breathing dragon. That's all for tonight, folks, I'm Steve Irwin, signin' off. EDIT: It was pointed out that Steve Irwin would never swear, so I edited that out.
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it. Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough. Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission. Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels. God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night!	The black velvet curtains snapped and whirled around as the heat and wind permeated through their faded fabric. While hiding him from the gaze of those who have gathered in the pantheon they did little to hide the smell of sulfur emanating from the pit just on the other side. Steve opened and closed his scarred, aging hands. Callused, cracked, and scabbed, they ached. The fingernails held a slight crust of blood under them. Dirt intermingled and entwined on the hairs on his knuckles. One more he said under his breath. Just one more. As he held up his hand to the faint candle, he could feel it shaking. There were no smiles in this place, no happiness. He knew what awaited him should he fail again. A veiled figure filled out from the darkness. No steps could be heard, as if he floated above the damp stone floor of the holding pit in the pantheon. A dark crimson robed arm reached forward and put a black, dead hand upon his back. Steve's shoulders instinctively raised, as if to guard not from a hand, but from a blow. Where the hand lay on his khaki shirt, the skin below felt cold, as if being burned by ice. Behind the darkness of the vail a voice whispered out, "This is your last one. Tie this creature up, and you will be free. 12 has been your number, and this will be your last. Fail, and you must start again." Steve's hand opened one more time, as if he had won his prize already. As is he could already feel his child's hand folding into his palm once again. He reached out for the black curtain, and pulled it aside, stepping into the light, the feeling of his child's hand slipping once again from his mind.
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	Now everyone knows that old quote about the most dangerous game being man right? I don't really believe in it for a variety of reasons. It implies that animals can't be as smart if not smarter, that man should not respect anything that is not man. Most of all the quote references hunting, something I only approve of in the most dire of circumstances to improve the overall health of the ecosystem. Now, that all said and done, the quote comes to mind today because of what we're hunting. The doppelganger, aka. Me, I'm gonna go over to it and see if we can't get it to change into me. Now, there are several varieties of these things. You've got the sort that only have one form or at the very least keep one form. These are the subspecies called Mimics, most of em are carnivorous but can last years without a meal and subsist entirely off the moisture in the air. What we're looking for is called a Ditto. Harmless for the most part until in panics and struggles around. Most doppelgangers don't like to show off their default form and try to blend into their surroundings. The Ditto however is happy to socialize in it's pink neutral state and will only transform when threatened..... let's see if we can sneak up on this one and get a closer look, and he's a beauty, a bit smaller then usual but it's relatively unimportant to a creature that can.... Uh oh, he's seen me! Wait... he's turned into the camera man! "CRIKEY BRUCE He's even got your camera!"	...and then no pain, just a floating sensation. The kind that you get when take off, being pushed into your seat as the nose of the plane points towards the clouds. I was conscious of my surroundings, but confused. I couldn't see anything but knew everything was there. The giant gate came out if nowhere, like a white monolith situated in the densest of cloud. The left side swung open and a whisper of harps could be heard as I moved closer to the open gate I could see people running as a herd. Almost animalistic as they pushed and shoved each other, I'd only ever seen anything like it on TV when birds fly together and black out the sky. Then it appeared, a frameless image at least 100ft square. 80 percent of the screen was Steve Irwin's face. He gave the happiest of winks towards me and then a series of images flashed on screen. A booming voice played over the images: "Come see Steve take on the wildest of creatures. Megladon the seas largest killer. Cthulu 8 arms ain't got nothing on Steve, Bigfoot has been spotted and Steve's not happy. I joined the flocking crowd and descended into the auditorium below the giant image of Steve. As I glanced back the glimmer in his eyes and his smile was infectious. I was home. Sorry for grammar mistakes I'm terrible at stuff like this
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	G'day friends, my name's Steve Irwin, and you're watchin' Crocodile Hunter! Today we're going on an adventure to the Australian Outback, my homeland. Nothing better than wrangling a kangaroo, right mate? But we're not after any kangaroos today, no. We're going to find ourselves... a drop bear. These lovely buggers are a tad bit like the koala, but with the attitude of a pissed off crocodile. You gotta be careful when you handle 'em, that is if you can even get close enough. Now, what makes a drop bear different from his cousin the koala is his predatory nature. A koala spends his afternoons munching on eucalyptus leaves, but a drop bear, a drop bear has a hankering for human flesh, especially the face. There're too many stories floating about out there in the great beyond about a clueless tourist losing his face to a drop bear. Tsk tsk. They might look cuddly mate, but they'll chew your face off faster than you can shout "blimey!" We're gonna have t'be careful when we see one. Usually, you can spot yourself a drop bear lolly-gagging in the tree branches, but it's best you make sure he can't see you. Look. Over there, to the left. See him? That's a drop bear. Looks like we've got a baby one. That's not a good sign-- mama shouldn't be too far off. Let's try 'n get a closer look. Now, it's important to keep your distance and use proper technique when approaching a drop bear. Luckily, your buddy Steve here's a certified drop bear handler. Not an honor to be taken lightly. So, first thing you're gonna wanna do when wrangling yourself a drop bear is cover up your face. The face is the drop bear's favorite point of attack, so you need to be prepared. In the wild, a startled drop bear will indiscriminately shred face. We've got ourselves a handy ski mask here, not too easy to find down under, eh? Any face covering will do, but you're gonna want to avoid disguising yourself as anything a drop bear might decide he fancies for lunch. Now that my face is properly hidden, I can think about getting closer to the drop bear. I'm standing underneath him right about now, but I don't think he sees me yet. When dealing with drop bears, you need to make yourself known. Let's yell at him. "Eh drop bear!" Crikey! We got his attention now. Look at the way he's descending from his perch. Any second now, he'll drop right to the ground. That's how the drop bear gets 'is name. Isn't nature amazing? Alright, so now we've got our buddy the drop bear right where we want him. Let's jump on it! Crikey, he's a fighter. When you tackle a drop bear, you want to position your face away from his teeth and grab him under the chin, like this. I don't know about you mate, but I favor keeping my face. Now that we've got him pinned, you can see the little guy relaxing. Don't be fooled mate, the drop bear is a sneaky little bugger. He'll jump right up at a moment's notice, so you got to keep your eye on him. Let's get a better look at his teeth. See how sharp those are? In the wild, the drop bear uses those wily fangs of his to incapacitate any unfortunate creature that happens under his branch. Our buddy sure is cute, but he's dangerous, and it's not right to interfere with a wild animal's day to day activities. At least not too much. Let's say goodbye to our friend the drop bear. Take it easy, little bugger! Next, join me as I journey off to the American Southwest in search of a legendary beast, the chupacabra. A wolf-like menace so dangerous, and so elusive, everyone who's tried to capture one has found themselves a drained, bloodless husk. Join us next time, only on Discovery. Edit: spelling	...and then no pain, just a floating sensation. The kind that you get when take off, being pushed into your seat as the nose of the plane points towards the clouds. I was conscious of my surroundings, but confused. I couldn't see anything but knew everything was there. The giant gate came out if nowhere, like a white monolith situated in the densest of cloud. The left side swung open and a whisper of harps could be heard as I moved closer to the open gate I could see people running as a herd. Almost animalistic as they pushed and shoved each other, I'd only ever seen anything like it on TV when birds fly together and black out the sky. Then it appeared, a frameless image at least 100ft square. 80 percent of the screen was Steve Irwin's face. He gave the happiest of winks towards me and then a series of images flashed on screen. A booming voice played over the images: "Come see Steve take on the wildest of creatures. Megladon the seas largest killer. Cthulu 8 arms ain't got nothing on Steve, Bigfoot has been spotted and Steve's not happy. I joined the flocking crowd and descended into the auditorium below the giant image of Steve. As I glanced back the glimmer in his eyes and his smile was infectious. I was home. Sorry for grammar mistakes I'm terrible at stuff like this
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it. Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough. Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission. Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels. God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night!	...and then no pain, just a floating sensation. The kind that you get when take off, being pushed into your seat as the nose of the plane points towards the clouds. I was conscious of my surroundings, but confused. I couldn't see anything but knew everything was there. The giant gate came out if nowhere, like a white monolith situated in the densest of cloud. The left side swung open and a whisper of harps could be heard as I moved closer to the open gate I could see people running as a herd. Almost animalistic as they pushed and shoved each other, I'd only ever seen anything like it on TV when birds fly together and black out the sky. Then it appeared, a frameless image at least 100ft square. 80 percent of the screen was Steve Irwin's face. He gave the happiest of winks towards me and then a series of images flashed on screen. A booming voice played over the images: "Come see Steve take on the wildest of creatures. Megladon the seas largest killer. Cthulu 8 arms ain't got nothing on Steve, Bigfoot has been spotted and Steve's not happy. I joined the flocking crowd and descended into the auditorium below the giant image of Steve. As I glanced back the glimmer in his eyes and his smile was infectious. I was home. Sorry for grammar mistakes I'm terrible at stuff like this
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it. Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough. Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission. Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels. God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night!	Now everyone knows that old quote about the most dangerous game being man right? I don't really believe in it for a variety of reasons. It implies that animals can't be as smart if not smarter, that man should not respect anything that is not man. Most of all the quote references hunting, something I only approve of in the most dire of circumstances to improve the overall health of the ecosystem. Now, that all said and done, the quote comes to mind today because of what we're hunting. The doppelganger, aka. Me, I'm gonna go over to it and see if we can't get it to change into me. Now, there are several varieties of these things. You've got the sort that only have one form or at the very least keep one form. These are the subspecies called Mimics, most of em are carnivorous but can last years without a meal and subsist entirely off the moisture in the air. What we're looking for is called a Ditto. Harmless for the most part until in panics and struggles around. Most doppelgangers don't like to show off their default form and try to blend into their surroundings. The Ditto however is happy to socialize in it's pink neutral state and will only transform when threatened..... let's see if we can sneak up on this one and get a closer look, and he's a beauty, a bit smaller then usual but it's relatively unimportant to a creature that can.... Uh oh, he's seen me! Wait... he's turned into the camera man! "CRIKEY BRUCE He's even got your camera!"
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it. Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough. Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission. Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels. God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night!	G'day friends, my name's Steve Irwin, and you're watchin' Crocodile Hunter! Today we're going on an adventure to the Australian Outback, my homeland. Nothing better than wrangling a kangaroo, right mate? But we're not after any kangaroos today, no. We're going to find ourselves... a drop bear. These lovely buggers are a tad bit like the koala, but with the attitude of a pissed off crocodile. You gotta be careful when you handle 'em, that is if you can even get close enough. Now, what makes a drop bear different from his cousin the koala is his predatory nature. A koala spends his afternoons munching on eucalyptus leaves, but a drop bear, a drop bear has a hankering for human flesh, especially the face. There're too many stories floating about out there in the great beyond about a clueless tourist losing his face to a drop bear. Tsk tsk. They might look cuddly mate, but they'll chew your face off faster than you can shout "blimey!" We're gonna have t'be careful when we see one. Usually, you can spot yourself a drop bear lolly-gagging in the tree branches, but it's best you make sure he can't see you. Look. Over there, to the left. See him? That's a drop bear. Looks like we've got a baby one. That's not a good sign-- mama shouldn't be too far off. Let's try 'n get a closer look. Now, it's important to keep your distance and use proper technique when approaching a drop bear. Luckily, your buddy Steve here's a certified drop bear handler. Not an honor to be taken lightly. So, first thing you're gonna wanna do when wrangling yourself a drop bear is cover up your face. The face is the drop bear's favorite point of attack, so you need to be prepared. In the wild, a startled drop bear will indiscriminately shred face. We've got ourselves a handy ski mask here, not too easy to find down under, eh? Any face covering will do, but you're gonna want to avoid disguising yourself as anything a drop bear might decide he fancies for lunch. Now that my face is properly hidden, I can think about getting closer to the drop bear. I'm standing underneath him right about now, but I don't think he sees me yet. When dealing with drop bears, you need to make yourself known. Let's yell at him. "Eh drop bear!" Crikey! We got his attention now. Look at the way he's descending from his perch. Any second now, he'll drop right to the ground. That's how the drop bear gets 'is name. Isn't nature amazing? Alright, so now we've got our buddy the drop bear right where we want him. Let's jump on it! Crikey, he's a fighter. When you tackle a drop bear, you want to position your face away from his teeth and grab him under the chin, like this. I don't know about you mate, but I favor keeping my face. Now that we've got him pinned, you can see the little guy relaxing. Don't be fooled mate, the drop bear is a sneaky little bugger. He'll jump right up at a moment's notice, so you got to keep your eye on him. Let's get a better look at his teeth. See how sharp those are? In the wild, the drop bear uses those wily fangs of his to incapacitate any unfortunate creature that happens under his branch. Our buddy sure is cute, but he's dangerous, and it's not right to interfere with a wild animal's day to day activities. At least not too much. Let's say goodbye to our friend the drop bear. Take it easy, little bugger! Next, join me as I journey off to the American Southwest in search of a legendary beast, the chupacabra. A wolf-like menace so dangerous, and so elusive, everyone who's tried to capture one has found themselves a drained, bloodless husk. Join us next time, only on Discovery. Edit: spelling
[WP] The hottest show in the afterlife for the past decade: Steve Irwin wrangling all sorts of supernatural creatures.	G'day and welcome to the Myth Hunter. Today, I'm going after the stone salamander of Seneca. Oh, looks like we've got one. 'Ere we have the rare basilisk. Crikey, this ones a giant in'it he? Now the thing you've got to remember with basilisks is, if they stare you straight in the eye, yer turned to solid rock. So the best thing to do with these is to wear a blindfold 'round ya head. Now that I've got mine on, I can start to wrangle it. Whatcha wannado with these critters is get low to the ground while you approach em. Now they're going to- oof, yea- to try and rear up at ya. Once you hear that screech you've got to go in at em. Grab em right- c'mon there ya go- right here, right under the front two legs. Keep your head Low, it'll try and nip ya, but it can't bend its neck far enough. Shh, shh, calm girl calm. Now we can safely remove the blindfold, as we keep her eyes pointed safely in the sky. Ya can see this ones a girl cause of the crystal 'tween her eyes. Males don't got that 'tween their eyes, just real thick, thick, eyebrow ridges. As a secondary weapon the basilisk has these thick claws, take a look 'ere. Each ones about a quarter inch thick and hard as granite. Teeth too, once bit straight through my sternum. Lucky I'm dead else it've put me out of commission. Alright, time to let her go now. You've got to put your blindfold back on and toss her back quick. I'm going to push off in 3.....2......1....go go go go, alright c'mon. Looks like shes stopped following now and- wassat? Zoom in over there. Crickey, shes got a little runt with her. Definitely the smallest of her litter, little guy must only be about a foot long. S'allright to look at 'im. Poor lil guy wont open his eyes for 'nother month at least. For now he's sticking close to mommy for protection. The young climb on their mothers back for protection from threats. For the first three months of their lives they're effectively defenseless against predators, specially weasels. God. That's just absolutely beautiful. Watching mother and son go into the sunset together. Nature's majesty right before us. Thanks all for tuning in, catch me here next week when we go after the elusive jackalope, the mirage of the midwest. G'night!	"G'day! Today we'll be bushwackin' round the 'lysian Fields! Some of you may recognize the name from Greek Mythology! Keep your eyes peeled, because you never know what we may find out here...it could be the ghost of Hercules, or the spirit of Prometheus, or... "Crikey, would you take a look at this! This is a rare sight indeed. What we have here is a Cyclops! Like many creatures, the Cyclops is quite misunderstood. Few of 'em are given the chance to be heroes, but looks like our friend heah made the cut! Good on ya, mate! "The main way to tell a cyclops from anywhere else is to sneak up behind 'em and stick a finger in their bum! If they react at all, they're probably a Cyclops! "Of course, I'm kiddin' - a little gallows humor from beyond the grave. Nah, the Cyclops is recognized by the single eye plopped smack in the middle of 'is forehead! Not many know that Cyclops means 'circle eye' - cycle like bicycle! "Now, what I usually do with Cykes is I pull out my spell book of white magic. You can also get by with any kind of flame-enchanted blade - a flame saber, or a Scimitar of the Salamander People - typical kit you can get at any Afterlife Exploration store. "But I love the classics. So I've got my turtle shell heah, an' some sheep gut. This is sheep gut from the Chios sheep but really any breed'll do. We'll show you how to do this yourself later in the episode. And as I strum this melody...our friend heah's gonna go right ta sleep! "Now that 'e's down for a snooze, we can get a closer look. Wouldya look at some of these markings - blimey! These're from arrowheads, up heah, an' if I had ta guess I'd say they're from a fight with Argonauts. An' here's a spot where the poor fella's been done with a speah or two - ouch! "Ooo...I'm gonna very quickly activate my amulet now, which gives me an Aura of Benificence. And it's got nothin' ta do with our one-eyed friend here...and everything to do with the sudden chillin' of my blood. Which tells me that there's...ah, yup, I see 'im! I'll just step outta the way... "I hope you can see this at home - this spectral form with two glowin' eyes is known as a wraith. An' I have ta say, ya never want ta get too close to them - as they may drain you of all happiness and consume your eternal soul. Doesn't sound too pleasant, does it? "But I'm just going ta cast a quick binding charm, and then we'll get right up next to the fella. Ooo, look out! Looks like my charm wasn't completely effective - look at 'im go! But as I strengthen the ephemeral restraints, he'll slowly realize there's no escape. "Wraiths have a bad reputation from folks blunderin' into their habitat an' often disturbing the site of their Earthly remains. Nothin' 'll get these ghosties fired up more quickly then steppin' on their graves. They're nocturnal, though, sleepin' most of the day and comin' out ta go on walkabout at night. Best way to steer clear: avoid old cemeteries, 'specially after dark. "Now I'm gonna back away from 'im slowly, and release my magical hold. We'll let the ghostie float on back to 'is crypt, and that's that. "Speakin' o' which, it's 'bout time I head back ta my crypt. We'll have to save the lyre lesson 'til next time. For Ethereal Planet, I'm Steve Irwin, an' thanks for watchin' Afterlife Hunter!" * * * Edit for formatting and because Steve forgot to tell the viewer how to make their own lyre.
[WP] The superhero and the supervillain realize they have crushes on eachother. They agree to meet in costume to talk about their ideals.	The princess and the thief *** She was literally a princess which had always amused Jax, born to rule another planet far far away, Jax guessed the small discreet crown she wore paid lip service to this fact, to most people it meant nothing, but Jax knew, Jax knew the reason it wasn’t bigger was because her planet was destroyed and she was never officially made queen, although Jax had always reasoned that since the old queen was presumed dead, that would make Allura the de facto queen. But he supposed it didn’t really matter now. Jax was sitting behind a desk, not his desk, the man whose desk Jax now sat behind was uh “deceased,” as Jax would have put it. Across the room from him stood Allura, if anyone could manage the act of simply standing still and appearing self-righteous it would be Allura, Jax thought. She wore her signature costume, Red and black, skin-tight with a skirt and high boots, a small mask covering just the top half of her face, she had Jett black hair and was in Jax’s and everybody else with a pulse's opinion beautiful, Jax had always found it hilarious no one could tell who she was in her alter ego, all she did was wear glasses, and she still looked like a princess. She was taller than Jax, and honestly in this moment Jax was slightly afraid of her, she could rip him in two without a second thought, of course she wouldn’t, Jax thought with a slight smile. Jax would have liked to think it was because they had some kind of connection, they had fought for so long, shared so many personal moments, who else could really understand what it was like to be at the top of the world, equal to so few. It was at that moment that Jax’s train of thought was broken by a crash, Allura had thrown a filing cabinet at him, or at least in his general direction, it smashed against the wall to his right, splitting into pieces. “Jax you piece of shit!” Allura yelled, even when she was angry Jax couldn’t help but think how cute her voice was. “What the hell are you up?” “Well-” Jax was cut off before he could explain “Well what?” Allura’s legitimate anger caught Jax off guard, he’d only seen her like this a couple of times. “You promised you would stop last time!” “Oh come on, you really expected me to stop?” Jax said with his usual smug demeanor, but a bit of uncertainty showed through. “Besides,” he said less smugly, “It’s not like I had much of a choice.” Allura silently fumed, gritting her teeth. “That doesn’t mean you had to lie.” “Dunno, I was literally in prison for life, felt like the right time to lie.” Jax paused, sounding clever all the time was hard work, and he was honestly for once in his life a bit nervous, “and besides, I kinda liked being the good guy for once.” Jax feigned sheepishness, although, like many things he said, it wasn’t entirely untrue. “Ha ha,” Allura said sarcastically, her rage seeming slightly cooled. “Where is it Jax, I know you’re trying to crack the roof vault. Where is the drill?” “Ha, you think too little of me,” Jax said with a smile, “a drill is fun and all but where’s the style to it?” Jax loved style from his dark navy suit, to his perfectly shined black dress shoes, his twenty-five thousand dollar watch and his hundred dollar haircut, all part of his image as the smoothest criminal in the world. Of course, why does any man dress well? Women of course, or men... or in Jax's case both reportedly. “And your all about style aren’t you,” Allura glared, “the world didn’t see through your lies but I did.” “Well it shouldn’t be that hard since you have x-ray vision,” Jax grinned again, more genuinely. “It doesn’t work like that,” Allura muttered, scanning the room. “Indulge my curiosity,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “how does it work, exactly?” Allura stopped looking around the room, her eyes darting back to the short man behind the desk. “What?” she said incredulously. Jax froze as her eyes landed on him, “uh, I mean…” he trailed off. She looked at him very intently, Jax felt himself freezing up, he was like a kid again talking to his high school crush, he wet his lips and nervously tried to go back into his persona that he had been knocked out of by her gaze. “What can you see through exactly?” he said coyly “Allura tilted her head, “I mean, I just have to focus on something, I can’t really explain it.” She said guardedly. “How about clothes, for instance mine?” It would have been funny, if he had said it with his usual bravado, one of his many flirtations that were just taken as jokes meant to throw Allura off guard, but his voice quaked slightly, his gaze averted for just a second, and his pulse quickened, Jax was off his game today. Allura looked at him intently, focusing before jumping back in surprise, blushing. Jax paused, that was not the reaction he expended, he had always thought it would be funny to try and get her to use her x-ray vision on him, but the blushing… that was strange, to see a hint of human weakness. Jax regained his composure and put on his best shit-eating grin. “Like what you see?” Allura had her gaze averted and her hands over her face, she was still blushing slightly, she turned slowly towards Jax, attempting to right herself. “W-why did you do that?” Allura stammered. Jax tried to act like his normal self, but he was having a hard time keeping it together. he shrugged, “I was always curious how it worked." Allura laughed nervously. This was incredibly odd and Jax had to metaphorically pinch himself. Sadly in spite of himself, Jax reverted to his normal mode of thought, how can I get out of this, checking his watch he realized now what was unlikely before, was not impossible, escape. Allura snapped back into reality, glaring. At Jax, “y-you fuck!” her eyes started to glow. Jax blood ran cold, normally seeing “The Princess” swear, and in such a funny manner would have made his day. But she was angry now, very angry, and it was directed him. He had only seen her like this once before and the fate of the whole city was on her shoulders at that point. Incidentally, Jax had helped defeat the alien threat, but the only thing anyone actually remembers is the fact he also stole the Federal Reserve, he remembers this all half nostalgically and half bitterly. Allura's eyes roared with flame, and she fired an eye blast, carving into the window behind Jax who instinctively rolled out of the way, even though the blast obviously wasn’t meant for him. “Woh woh woh,” Jax stammered, kneeling on the ground now, attempting to get to his feet. “It was just a joke, what did I do to make you so mad?” “MAD?” Allura was across the room in a flash, grabbing Jax by the throat, she started towards the window. “Jesus Christ, let go of me, I can explain!” He yelled. All the blood had left Jax's face and panic was setting in. He had only seen Allura kill once before, and he was keen not to see that again. Despite Jax’s protests Allura slammed him through the window with a crash, now holding him out 500ft above the city streets, the wind whipped past and stung at Jax’s cheeks, he was now struggling for breath and attempting not to look down. “You were stalling for time?” Allura yelled angrily, tightening her grip on Jax’s throat. Jax could swear he saw a single teardrop on her face. “I mean… kind of, b-but,” Jax gasped for air, “I---I actually do like you.” Jax couldn’t believe what he was saying, and if his face wasn’t already turning purple from the wind and the strangling, he would have been most certainly blushing. Allura’s face softened, still on guard and confused she seemed to tighten her grip even more, but a slight smile also played across her face. “Y-you like me?” she said uncertainly. “this isn’t some trick? Her features hardening again. Jax had run out of air and could only barely manage a shake of his head and “c-can’t breath.” Allura relaxed her grip… too much, dropping Jax, her almost smile turning to horror. Time seemed to stop for Allura, willing all her muscles to move she was frozen in fear. All the good times the two had had together flashing before her eyes, honestly though if she had thought about it more, the sum total of their time together would have just irritated her. After what seemed like an eternity to Allura she dove for the edge of the room and out the building. But she only got half way before Jax reappeared, standing triumphantly on the black owl, his stealth plane, it seemed to have caught him. She also noticed something else, the roof was coming off, or rather being torn off. Her mind was everywhere, not focused, confused. Then it hit her… the roof vault. Another one of Jax’s autonomous planes was absconding with the roof vault, which it turned out was actually much more literal than she first had thought. “Y-you bastard.” she managed. Jax grinned and shrugged. “Yeah that’s me.” his grin seemed to lessen slightly and he became slightly more serious, even a bit bashful Allura thought, she couldn’t tell if the redness in his cheeks was from the cold or embarrassment. The two were still for some time, seemingly looking through each other, both planes hovering and the giant vault swaying back and forth on the hook from the 2nd black owl. Jax finally broke the silence, “I don’t have your phone number, do you even have a phone?,” His grin was back and finally genuine, Allura thought. “Y-you weren't lying?” Allura managed to get out. "Not about that," Jax said simply. And with that Jax flashed one more grin and snapped his fingers, the 2nd black owl went supersonic. “Noon, times square, how about coffee?” he yelled as his black owl’s engines revved and he climbed into the cockpit. The black owl blasted away from Allura. The vault slammed into the roof, crashing through 3 floors and making an extreme amount of noise. Allura stood still, seeming lost in thought for a while, a shy smile came over her face, and all she could think was: I have a date.	We met exactly at midnight, as agreed. Him in his torn, black robes and skull mask, me in my flowing white dress with flowers in my hair. Death looked over to me, his eyes full of exhaustion and pain. I decided to start. "I love you, Death." "I know." Death whispered hoarsely. "But why do the people of this world hate you? And why do they love me?" I inquired. Death sighed. "Because you are a comforting lie," He reached out a pale hand. A bird flew into his palm, and collapsed, dead. "And I am a terrible truth."
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	Ohh for fucks sake. While all the people may have had a shitty year, mine was great. Or at least it was great to be over with it. And of course I have no cool time travel savings. I don't know how the stocks changed, in what I should be investing. I don't know who won in stuff you could bet on and in two days I have to depart for the hardest navy training course in my country for basically six months. Just fucking great. And I was so happy to be done with cleaning things. I don't even know when I had the luck of phoning just the correct person to get the perfect apartment I searched for and got it against 50 other people who wanted it. Just what am I going to do? This was my luckiest year in my entire life.	She spotted me across the party when I lit the wrong end of my cigarette and ended up putting my fist through the drywall at my buddies house. We made eye contact when Blue Oyster Cult's Godzilla started blaring from the speakers. I began to move towards her. Air bassin' the bass the solo. I could tell there was going to be a flood warning in effect if I didn't cool it on the smooth air bassin' moves. She grabs my letterman jacket and pulls me close. I prepare to to give her a mighty tonguing, but she's forceful. Delicate. Erotic. I'm about to let her know that my hose is gonna explode when she pulls me near and whispers in my ear "Let's Try This Again!" I could hardly contain the boner that was raging in my slacks as I went in for another sensual kiss. She was gone. Disappeared into thin air. I was livid. Ripped off jacket and threw it into a crowd of party goer's and I grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey to chug back. Before gettin' into 110% party mode I decided to check the date. Just to make sure I wasn't being an idiot on December 29th or some shit. I spit a big gulp of the Turkey out when I saw the date was January 1st, 2017. "Hey bozo's! Who's got the stones to admit to pullin' a date prank on ol' Rusty here?" I screamed to the crowd. No one answered. "Just like I fuckin' figured! Ain't no one got the sack to step up to the big dog!" I hollered before starting to bark like a dog. "Hey jag, it IS January 1st, 2017" some guy yelled over my barking. A sense of overwhelming dread came over me. "2017 was the year I finally quit my job and took a steaming dump in the sun roof of my managers Camry. He had me double clean the fryer at Arby's, when all us employees knew I once over was enough. So since he liked number 2's so much, I decided to let loose an Arby's blast of my own into the sun roof of his sensible sedan." "2017 was also the year I banged Cindy Severetti. She's kind of hit rock bottom and I'm her stepping stone outta the cellar. She's got Dale Earnhardt's signature tattooed on her titties. I motorboat those son's of bitches pretty much nonstop. RIP #3. " "I'm also only like 2 episodes into Season 2 of Stranger Things. Netflix account got logged out and I don't remember the log in. You tryin' tell me I gotta wait another full fuckin' year to see what happens to those god damn scoundrals!?!?" I am screaming all of this at a full party of people. Bottles are whizzing past my head. I'm smoking 3 cigarettes at once. Trying to calm down. "Hey bub, shut the fuck up!" some classless man yells at me. "Why don't you say that to my faaaaaaaaaaaaaace?" I sing. I begin to dance a very aggressively choreographed routine. Babes are going wild. I'm air humping a stuffed grizzly bear that is in the corner of the living room of the house I am at. Luckily I am wearing tear-away pants as per usual and rip my slacks off. "He ain't got no underwear on!" one person screams. "Oh my god, look at that skid mark on his pants!" another yells. I am dancing like I've never danced before. Like a maniac. "2017. TWENTY. SEVEN. TEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!" I sing as I feel a stabbing motion in my chest. "Boys, I think I'm having a heart attack," I say before I see my arch nemesis Gray Ray stabbing me with a large knife. "Gray Ray? What the fuck baby?" I saw. Gray Ray flicks his luscious gray locks out of his face and then says "See you in hell, motherfucker" before finishing murdering me. 2017 sucks way worse the second time around.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	I should have called my mom more. I really should have visited her more. Hot water burned my hands and my mind jolted back to the present where I had been tasked with washing the dishes. Sounds of conversations in both Korean and English filtered in my ears. I glanced over in the living room where all my extended family relatives were wrapped up in their own activities. My uncles were sitting on the ground around the foldable lacquer table littered with beer and soju. They munched on toasted dried squid pieces dipped in hot chili paste as they argued over their lottery ticket chances. I saw my father leave the bathroom and take his spot between First Uncle and Third Uncle since he was the second son. It was good to see him smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. My aunts were wrapping up the cleaning and disassembling the jesa table for my late grandmother. She had died when my dad was just a kid so I never met her, but her death anniversary fell on New Year's eve. It was an unspoken rule that every New Year's eve, everyone would gather at my First Uncle's home to pay respects to my grandmother. My cousins, who were all mostly kids or teenagers, were sitting in another corner glued to their iphones and ipads. I found myself smiling at the memory when I was also relegated to the kids corner, except back then I would play card games or watch my cousins play on their Nintendo GameCube. A clatter brought my attention to the a woman who had appeared behind me. "Can you help me pack the leftovers for everyone?" she asked me in perfect English without the trace of an accent. I must have been gaping too long because she furrowed her eyebrows at me. "Don't you speak English?" Remembering my manners, I shut off the water and dried off my hands quickly. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, Auntie." I helped her grab a stack of empty plastic containers and set them up in rows on the kitchen counter. "I'm just surprised that your English is good." The auntie laughed as she started dishing out pieces of the seafood Korean pancake. "You could say that I'm surprised as well. Can you start putting in the side dishes?" I nodded and grabbed the various sides dishes of seasoned bean sprouts, spinach, and braised lotus roots. As I started to serve out the portions, I tried to think of this particular auntie's relation to me. I didn't recognize her and I know I would have remembered if she spoke English. But I also didn't want to offend her if I asked who she was. So instead, I remained silent and tried to remember on my own. "If your mother were here, she'd be doing with you, wouldn't she?" the auntie asked me softly. "Y-yes," I managed to get out as my throat began to close up. Immediately, my eyes watered and I froze in place trying to get a hold of my emotions. It had only been two months since my mom died in a car accident, but I felt like it had just happened. I waited for the auntie to start cooing and trying to comfort me like my other aunts had. It was easier to just answer that I was fine and say thank you before escaping to another room. Except this auntie remained silent. It was just the two of us in the kitchen and I could no longer hear my extended family in the living room. A tendril of anxiety started to unfurl in my belly as I fought back more tears. I placed the container of food and chopsticks down before taking a deep, calming breath. "My mom would have tried to give me double the portions to take back to my apartment. And I would have told her that it was too much and it would go to waste. Even when I told her to give me a little, she always gave me way more than I could eat alone." The auntie finished packing the side dishes and started closing the containers. She stacked one tupperware on top of another and grinned at me. "Then this will be your portion to take home." I couldn't help but laugh at the auntie as she grabbed a plastic bag to put my leftovers in. With extra flourish, she finished tying off the bag in a double knotted bow and then pointed to the large plate of food with everything that had been on the jesa table earlier along with a small teapot filled with rice wine and a cup. The final part of the jesa ceremony was to leave out the leftovers for the lingering spirits of those who did not have families that provided food offerings. Of course, it was always a game of bravery among my cousins and me. We all knew ghosts weren't real, but going outside alone in the dark was also not the most appealing. "None of the kids wanted to do it?" I asked as I picked up the plate and the auntie got the rice wine and cup. The auntie looked fondly at my younger cousins still wrapped up on their devices and shook her head with a sigh. "I think they're all too scared." We walked to the door and stepped out onto the porch. I set the food down and the auntie did the same with the rice wine. She turned to me and said, "I did hear though that you used to do it quite a lot when you were younger. Sometimes, even causing quite a mess." My cheeks grew hot from the embarrassment, but the memory of why I had always volunteered made me both sad and happy. "I wasn't allowed to buy candy when I was younger, but my mom said that she'd let me if I gave some to my grandmother and the spirits. It was an obvious ploy to just have me eat the least amount of sweets possible while getting rid of it." "And the mess?" the auntie prodded. I leaned against the porch and shook my head at my own cowardice. "I always thought there was something that moved or I saw something. That usually ended up with me knocking over the plate of food and breaking a cup or two." I stared up at the night sky. "Grandmother must think I was such a spoiled child. And a rude one for using her own death anniversary for my own gain. I did try to pick better candies as I grew older and I always bring dessert for her now." I pointed to the sponge cake I got from an Asian bakery near my apartment. The auntie laid a hand on my shoulder and patted gently. "I'm sure she always appreciated the sweet gifts you've brought over the years, even sharing them with the wandering spirits. And I'm sure your mother is very proud of you for continuing the tradition without her." I bit my lip, but couldn't help the sob that slipped out. Immediately, the auntie pulled me into a tight hug. She kissed the top of my head and pulled back to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I think your grandmother would want to give a gift back to you." "What? Like winning the lottery so I can pay off my student loans?" I sniffled. "Something a little better than that," the auntie said as she stepped back. I watched in confusion as her features changed and grew older. Before I could even guess at what was happening someone called out to me from the front door. "Hana! What are you doing outside standing in the cold for so long? Come inside. Don't you want your new year's money for 2017?" my mom said as she waved a thick envelope in her hand. "Uh, I'm coming…" I managed to get out and watched as my very alive mother walk back inside telling me to hurry up. I turned around and stared out into the street wondering what had just happened as the mysterious auntie was nowhere to be seen. Not quite still believing, but eager to find out for sure, I poured a cup of rice wine and held it up to the sky. "Happy new year, grandmother." Then I placed the cup down and headed inside but not before catching a glimpse of an elderly woman tipping her cup back at me.	She spotted me across the party when I lit the wrong end of my cigarette and ended up putting my fist through the drywall at my buddies house. We made eye contact when Blue Oyster Cult's Godzilla started blaring from the speakers. I began to move towards her. Air bassin' the bass the solo. I could tell there was going to be a flood warning in effect if I didn't cool it on the smooth air bassin' moves. She grabs my letterman jacket and pulls me close. I prepare to to give her a mighty tonguing, but she's forceful. Delicate. Erotic. I'm about to let her know that my hose is gonna explode when she pulls me near and whispers in my ear "Let's Try This Again!" I could hardly contain the boner that was raging in my slacks as I went in for another sensual kiss. She was gone. Disappeared into thin air. I was livid. Ripped off jacket and threw it into a crowd of party goer's and I grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey to chug back. Before gettin' into 110% party mode I decided to check the date. Just to make sure I wasn't being an idiot on December 29th or some shit. I spit a big gulp of the Turkey out when I saw the date was January 1st, 2017. "Hey bozo's! Who's got the stones to admit to pullin' a date prank on ol' Rusty here?" I screamed to the crowd. No one answered. "Just like I fuckin' figured! Ain't no one got the sack to step up to the big dog!" I hollered before starting to bark like a dog. "Hey jag, it IS January 1st, 2017" some guy yelled over my barking. A sense of overwhelming dread came over me. "2017 was the year I finally quit my job and took a steaming dump in the sun roof of my managers Camry. He had me double clean the fryer at Arby's, when all us employees knew I once over was enough. So since he liked number 2's so much, I decided to let loose an Arby's blast of my own into the sun roof of his sensible sedan." "2017 was also the year I banged Cindy Severetti. She's kind of hit rock bottom and I'm her stepping stone outta the cellar. She's got Dale Earnhardt's signature tattooed on her titties. I motorboat those son's of bitches pretty much nonstop. RIP #3. " "I'm also only like 2 episodes into Season 2 of Stranger Things. Netflix account got logged out and I don't remember the log in. You tryin' tell me I gotta wait another full fuckin' year to see what happens to those god damn scoundrals!?!?" I am screaming all of this at a full party of people. Bottles are whizzing past my head. I'm smoking 3 cigarettes at once. Trying to calm down. "Hey bub, shut the fuck up!" some classless man yells at me. "Why don't you say that to my faaaaaaaaaaaaaace?" I sing. I begin to dance a very aggressively choreographed routine. Babes are going wild. I'm air humping a stuffed grizzly bear that is in the corner of the living room of the house I am at. Luckily I am wearing tear-away pants as per usual and rip my slacks off. "He ain't got no underwear on!" one person screams. "Oh my god, look at that skid mark on his pants!" another yells. I am dancing like I've never danced before. Like a maniac. "2017. TWENTY. SEVEN. TEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!" I sing as I feel a stabbing motion in my chest. "Boys, I think I'm having a heart attack," I say before I see my arch nemesis Gray Ray stabbing me with a large knife. "Gray Ray? What the fuck baby?" I saw. Gray Ray flicks his luscious gray locks out of his face and then says "See you in hell, motherfucker" before finishing murdering me. 2017 sucks way worse the second time around.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	Ohh for fucks sake. While all the people may have had a shitty year, mine was great. Or at least it was great to be over with it. And of course I have no cool time travel savings. I don't know how the stocks changed, in what I should be investing. I don't know who won in stuff you could bet on and in two days I have to depart for the hardest navy training course in my country for basically six months. Just fucking great. And I was so happy to be done with cleaning things. I don't even know when I had the luck of phoning just the correct person to get the perfect apartment I searched for and got it against 50 other people who wanted it. Just what am I going to do? This was my luckiest year in my entire life.	After I came to terms that I wasn't going crazy, I accepted the truth. I don't know how it happened, but I got another chance. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes over again. I would tell her not to leave, that I really did love her. I would appreciate her. We would stay a family.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	I should have called my mom more. I really should have visited her more. Hot water burned my hands and my mind jolted back to the present where I had been tasked with washing the dishes. Sounds of conversations in both Korean and English filtered in my ears. I glanced over in the living room where all my extended family relatives were wrapped up in their own activities. My uncles were sitting on the ground around the foldable lacquer table littered with beer and soju. They munched on toasted dried squid pieces dipped in hot chili paste as they argued over their lottery ticket chances. I saw my father leave the bathroom and take his spot between First Uncle and Third Uncle since he was the second son. It was good to see him smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. My aunts were wrapping up the cleaning and disassembling the jesa table for my late grandmother. She had died when my dad was just a kid so I never met her, but her death anniversary fell on New Year's eve. It was an unspoken rule that every New Year's eve, everyone would gather at my First Uncle's home to pay respects to my grandmother. My cousins, who were all mostly kids or teenagers, were sitting in another corner glued to their iphones and ipads. I found myself smiling at the memory when I was also relegated to the kids corner, except back then I would play card games or watch my cousins play on their Nintendo GameCube. A clatter brought my attention to the a woman who had appeared behind me. "Can you help me pack the leftovers for everyone?" she asked me in perfect English without the trace of an accent. I must have been gaping too long because she furrowed her eyebrows at me. "Don't you speak English?" Remembering my manners, I shut off the water and dried off my hands quickly. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, Auntie." I helped her grab a stack of empty plastic containers and set them up in rows on the kitchen counter. "I'm just surprised that your English is good." The auntie laughed as she started dishing out pieces of the seafood Korean pancake. "You could say that I'm surprised as well. Can you start putting in the side dishes?" I nodded and grabbed the various sides dishes of seasoned bean sprouts, spinach, and braised lotus roots. As I started to serve out the portions, I tried to think of this particular auntie's relation to me. I didn't recognize her and I know I would have remembered if she spoke English. But I also didn't want to offend her if I asked who she was. So instead, I remained silent and tried to remember on my own. "If your mother were here, she'd be doing with you, wouldn't she?" the auntie asked me softly. "Y-yes," I managed to get out as my throat began to close up. Immediately, my eyes watered and I froze in place trying to get a hold of my emotions. It had only been two months since my mom died in a car accident, but I felt like it had just happened. I waited for the auntie to start cooing and trying to comfort me like my other aunts had. It was easier to just answer that I was fine and say thank you before escaping to another room. Except this auntie remained silent. It was just the two of us in the kitchen and I could no longer hear my extended family in the living room. A tendril of anxiety started to unfurl in my belly as I fought back more tears. I placed the container of food and chopsticks down before taking a deep, calming breath. "My mom would have tried to give me double the portions to take back to my apartment. And I would have told her that it was too much and it would go to waste. Even when I told her to give me a little, she always gave me way more than I could eat alone." The auntie finished packing the side dishes and started closing the containers. She stacked one tupperware on top of another and grinned at me. "Then this will be your portion to take home." I couldn't help but laugh at the auntie as she grabbed a plastic bag to put my leftovers in. With extra flourish, she finished tying off the bag in a double knotted bow and then pointed to the large plate of food with everything that had been on the jesa table earlier along with a small teapot filled with rice wine and a cup. The final part of the jesa ceremony was to leave out the leftovers for the lingering spirits of those who did not have families that provided food offerings. Of course, it was always a game of bravery among my cousins and me. We all knew ghosts weren't real, but going outside alone in the dark was also not the most appealing. "None of the kids wanted to do it?" I asked as I picked up the plate and the auntie got the rice wine and cup. The auntie looked fondly at my younger cousins still wrapped up on their devices and shook her head with a sigh. "I think they're all too scared." We walked to the door and stepped out onto the porch. I set the food down and the auntie did the same with the rice wine. She turned to me and said, "I did hear though that you used to do it quite a lot when you were younger. Sometimes, even causing quite a mess." My cheeks grew hot from the embarrassment, but the memory of why I had always volunteered made me both sad and happy. "I wasn't allowed to buy candy when I was younger, but my mom said that she'd let me if I gave some to my grandmother and the spirits. It was an obvious ploy to just have me eat the least amount of sweets possible while getting rid of it." "And the mess?" the auntie prodded. I leaned against the porch and shook my head at my own cowardice. "I always thought there was something that moved or I saw something. That usually ended up with me knocking over the plate of food and breaking a cup or two." I stared up at the night sky. "Grandmother must think I was such a spoiled child. And a rude one for using her own death anniversary for my own gain. I did try to pick better candies as I grew older and I always bring dessert for her now." I pointed to the sponge cake I got from an Asian bakery near my apartment. The auntie laid a hand on my shoulder and patted gently. "I'm sure she always appreciated the sweet gifts you've brought over the years, even sharing them with the wandering spirits. And I'm sure your mother is very proud of you for continuing the tradition without her." I bit my lip, but couldn't help the sob that slipped out. Immediately, the auntie pulled me into a tight hug. She kissed the top of my head and pulled back to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I think your grandmother would want to give a gift back to you." "What? Like winning the lottery so I can pay off my student loans?" I sniffled. "Something a little better than that," the auntie said as she stepped back. I watched in confusion as her features changed and grew older. Before I could even guess at what was happening someone called out to me from the front door. "Hana! What are you doing outside standing in the cold for so long? Come inside. Don't you want your new year's money for 2017?" my mom said as she waved a thick envelope in her hand. "Uh, I'm coming…" I managed to get out and watched as my very alive mother walk back inside telling me to hurry up. I turned around and stared out into the street wondering what had just happened as the mysterious auntie was nowhere to be seen. Not quite still believing, but eager to find out for sure, I poured a cup of rice wine and held it up to the sky. "Happy new year, grandmother." Then I placed the cup down and headed inside but not before catching a glimpse of an elderly woman tipping her cup back at me.	After I came to terms that I wasn't going crazy, I accepted the truth. I don't know how it happened, but I got another chance. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes over again. I would tell her not to leave, that I really did love her. I would appreciate her. We would stay a family.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	She is the love of his life -- written in the stars, sealed with the kiss of fate. The Gods, humorous in this aspect, promised him the love of his life, but would not promise an easy way to win her over. He had one wish, and his wish was to have an infinite amount of chances. It is the third time he has lived through 2017. Each year, a failure. So we go again. All he had to do was kiss her to make the year restart. First: he had to find her. Through the hustle and bustle of the local pub, he pushed through group after group of people. He had lived in this small Californian town for three years (or was it one if he lived here for 365 days of the same year thrice?) and yet he was never short of shocked at the sheer amount of people whom gathered for the event. "2018 is going to be a great year!" The same, balding, gray haired main yelled from the corner. "Three, two, one..." He mumbled, and he heard the oh-so-familiar crash of glasses and a drunk girl, giggling in her sparkly sequin dress. "I'm soooory," she slurred, her red nose and bright eyes grinning recklessly into the unamused bartender's face, "It won't happen agaaaaain." Now where was she again? He turned around, searching for the dart board. She was always at the dart board, laughing with her group of friends. She was piss poor at it too, but he knew better than to point that out. He had made the mistake twice already. "I know who you are." Her voice was next to his ear, "I know, exactly, who you are and what you are doing and I am here to tell you that it will not work." "What?" He turned around. She wasn't supposed to know, she could not know. "Yes, I found out, there is no way-" "TEN" "--The Gods cannot play with my fate or your fate or--" "NINE" "This is incredibly stupid and I cannot--" "EIGHT" "Look," He took her hands, "I can explain the entire story." They were the same hands: nimble and soft. Supple, but hardworking. She was memorized, imprinted in his brain like a brand. "SEVEN" "THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPLAIN," She screamed over the chanting in the bar, "You are just a plain and simple--" "SIX" "No, you don't get it," He was stuttering, pulling at his words the same way she was pulling at his heart. "FIVE" "What do I not get?" She yelled, "I don't want to be with you!" "FOUR" "But, we're soul mates." He stammered, "It was written in the stars--" "THREE" "But the kiss, the fate, the... the..." His eyes were tearing up. His damn eyes were tearing up. She was supposed to be the love of his life. The one who stayed next to him no matter what. And he would be there for her too. They were supposed to fall in love. "TWO" "Please, please give me one more chance." He begged, "I can make it perfect, I will not screw up again." "ONE" "I don't know what to say, I don't love you." "I need one more chance, please." She stared at him, noticing the tears at the corners, the frustration, the pleading, the hopelessness. Something drove her to nod. Maybe everything can go perfect. "Let's try this again," He kissed her and the clock set back another year.	After I came to terms that I wasn't going crazy, I accepted the truth. I don't know how it happened, but I got another chance. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes over again. I would tell her not to leave, that I really did love her. I would appreciate her. We would stay a family.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	"No." You look up from your phone, a sinking feeling in your chest. The horrible sight of Francie's green-brown cocktail skirt assaults your retinae, and her husband Walter stumbles next to her as Francine approaches you. That same smile as last year, and the year before. "Happy New Year, Karen!" she said. The words cut you like a knife. You failed, again. You look at Francie's festive banner hung over her living room lamps. "Happy New Year 2017", written in festive Party City multicolor font, clear as day. There is no denying it now. "I missed the train again," you say to the banner. "Train? What train? I thought you and Sharon were..." "We split up yesterday. She is with her folks," you say automatically. What went wrong? You and James prepared for every possibility. Everything was done identically as five years ago. You kept journals. You took videos. Nothing was out of place. Every single conversation with Francie was maintained. "I'm so sorry, Karen," says Francie. "If you want..." "Your couch would be great, thanks, " you say. "Just get me up before 7 so I can get cleaned up before James gets here." Francie smiles with surprise. "I didn't realize you knew my brother. Did Walter tell you he was coming home?" What did The Stranger mean? Let's try this again. He said the same thing five years ago, when before he simply smiled. You and James thought that meant to repeat everything the same way. It took so many tries, and now, The Stranger says the same thing. A perfect replica of the original year, and other variations. And still, no 2018. "Karen? Earth to Karen?" "Sorry, Francie. I think it's just about Sharon. I'll be fine, just give me some time." You certainly have plenty of that. You need to talk to James, discuss options, restructure the year. You must have missed something... "Of course, Karen, I'm sorry. Well, try to enjoy yourself, and I'll make sure you're up in time to get ready." Francie bounces away, continuing to entertain her guests. The same guests, save The Stranger. He always vanished somehow. "Oh, and Karen?" Francie comes back over. "Y-yes?" you say. "How do you feel about ice skating in Central Park tomorrow morning? Get some coffee, make a thing of it with Walter and James?" You had never tried that before. In fact, it had never been an option. "I thought you were terrified of ice-skating, Francie," you say. "I am," said Francie with nervous excitement. "But James says it will be a good thing for me. To conquer my fears and all that. Certainly a better resolution than spending less!" She laughs, and you laugh too. So many years of repetition, and now James was making a change so early. No more of the same thing. Maybe it would work, and maybe not. But it beat another Groundhog Day. "I'd love to," you say to Francie, as nervously as she seems to feel. "Great," she says with a smile. "Happy New Year, Karen." You smile back, and embrace your friend. "Happy New Year."	After I came to terms that I wasn't going crazy, I accepted the truth. I don't know how it happened, but I got another chance. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes over again. I would tell her not to leave, that I really did love her. I would appreciate her. We would stay a family.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	I checked my phone one more time. Under the words “Happy New Year!,” it still said “message read.” Still no reply. I wanted to send another message. Nah, I thought. She’s probably still sleeping. I had another chance. Another chance to win back the girl that I loved. The girl of my dreams. But I was doing something wrong. She was pushing me away. Now I had a chance to try something different. Shock and awe. Surprise her by doing something grand. I bought some flowers, then drove up to her place. I was about to get out of the car when something pushed me back. I looked at the flowers I bought her. Is this really love? They say if you really love someone, you should never give up on them. I looked back on 2017. The year that I felt so lost. She was single again. I was going to win her back. I tried my hardest. Gave it my all. In the end, I failed miserably. They say if you really love someone, you should never give up on them. That’s true. But if you are not what they want, you will never get love in return. So why are you punishing yourself? So you could suffer for the one you love? They say if you really love someone, you should never give up on them. Yes, that much is true. So isn’t it also true that if you really love yourself, you should never give up on you? I finally took a hold of the flowers, laid them next to a tree. I took a deep breath, then drove away thinking, 2017 will be a good year.	After I came to terms that I wasn't going crazy, I accepted the truth. I don't know how it happened, but I got another chance. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes over again. I would tell her not to leave, that I really did love her. I would appreciate her. We would stay a family.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	It was January 1st 2018 when Eric Taylor died. It was fairly painless, as far as deaths go. As the vehicle hit him, his body flew through the air, and his neck snapped cleanly as he landed head-first onto the rain-streaked tar. As far as the afterlife went, it was not quite as expected. He found himself standing meters away from his own crumpled body, which was being swarmed by his friends and pedestrians who had witnessed the accident. For reasons unknown to him, he knew both that no-one could see his current form, and that he could not communicate with anyone around him. He stared at his corpse and the slowly-spreading pool of blood with an odd sense of tranquility. “Not a pretty sight is it?” He jumped at the voice, and spun to look for its source. A young woman was standing behind him. With her porcelain skin, tousled raven-coloured hair and all-black attire, she reminded him of a girl from a punk-rock band. A strange silver pendant hung on a string around her neck, and the symbol seemed familiar. She smiled and cocked her head while he stared. “Not the chatty type are ya? Don’t worry, most people aren’t after… well...” she gestured to his dead figure lying in the road. The sound of sirens began to mask the sobs and panicked mutterings of the throngs of people surrounding his body. He turned back toward the mysterious woman. There was something about her which was strangely enticing. Not just because she was beautiful, no… It was something else. Eric knew that, if she was to begin walking, he would follow. “She’s alright, you know,” the woman said, “just in case you were wondering.” Sarah He had jumped into the street to push her out of the way of the speeding car. He swallowed, and spoke for the first time. “Good. It would… Be very unfortunate if I played hero just for us to both die anyway. So I guess… I’m supposed to go with you now?” He turned back towards the woman, smiling ruefully. She wore a puzzled expression. “You know, Eric, you’re not like most of the others. Young… Your whole life ahead of you, as they say. But you’re not angry, or in hysterics. Not pleading.” Her black eyes gleamed. “I must say, it’s extremely refreshing. But I must ask: aren’t you upset at all?” He hesitated. “I- I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s not as if I was suicidal or anything like that, but I also was having trouble… Seeing the point to it all. I had my whole life set out for me but, it didn’t ever seem like I was truly living.” He sighed. “Sarah. She deserves life more than I do.” The woman raised an eyebrow. “No-one deserves life more than another. But I understand.” She paused. “Look, kid, I don’t do this a lot… Maybe once a century. But I like you.” She appraised him for a moment, before grinning wolfishly. “Plus, it's fun to bend the rules every now and again. Would you like a second chance?” Eric gazed at her wearily. “You mean- at life? I feel like there must be some kind of catch involved.” “No,” she said, “No catch. And you’re going to have to just trust me when I say I keep my promises.” Eric inhaled deeply. “Okay. Yes… I… I would like that.” She grinned. “Alright, I just have two conditions.” “But you said there were no-” “Hush, kid. Number one is easy. At that party you went to, there will be a girl there. She may seem familiar.” She winked playfully. “If you haven’t changed your mind, allow her to kiss you. Number two, I’m going to do some talking with my family; and when you enter the new year, you will find yourself where you were on January 1st, 2017.” He frowned. “Why am I going back in time?” The woman rolled her eyes. “Consider it an extra gift from me. So that you can apply for a course you actually want to do; as opposed to what your parents want you to do. It might help with the whole,” she waved her arm around theatrically, “seeing a point to all this.” Eric grinned. “Deal.” He felt a strange tingling sensation, followed by a violent lurch. He was back at the party, and his head was spinning. Across the room, he spied a girl with messy black hair, her pendant gleaming under the strobe lights. He stroke purposefully towards her, and she smiled. “So, you haven’t changed your mind?” “I have not.” Death took his face in one slim palm and whispered in his ear, before meeting her cool, dark lips with his.	After I came to terms that I wasn't going crazy, I accepted the truth. I don't know how it happened, but I got another chance. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes over again. I would tell her not to leave, that I really did love her. I would appreciate her. We would stay a family.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	Ohh for fucks sake. While all the people may have had a shitty year, mine was great. Or at least it was great to be over with it. And of course I have no cool time travel savings. I don't know how the stocks changed, in what I should be investing. I don't know who won in stuff you could bet on and in two days I have to depart for the hardest navy training course in my country for basically six months. Just fucking great. And I was so happy to be done with cleaning things. I don't even know when I had the luck of phoning just the correct person to get the perfect apartment I searched for and got it against 50 other people who wanted it. Just what am I going to do? This was my luckiest year in my entire life.	It was a fairly typical affair as far as parties went, same old faces, same old behaviors that a year prior we all promised to not do. Cliché after cliché, I went to the bathroom to get some water on my face as I was sat too close to the fire while some guy was chatting my head off about something I pretended I had far too much interest in, and then I saw her outside the bathroom, I caught her looking at me for most the night even though I’ve never met her before, probably a mutual friend at an apartment like this. A few hours elapsed, nothing out of the ordinary, well apart from her still wanting to be near my proximity, only 2 minutes was left until the end of the year, and by golly, it was going to end on a high note. We all grabbed our drinks, went outside while some fireworks got prepped. She kept holding my hand, laughing in an awkward yet cute sense. Everybody began counting down, “10! 9!... 8!...” and while I was happy hanging with my friends, she dragged me back into the house with a bizarre urgency. “6!.. 5!...4!” she held my face and went to whisper in my ear, “3!... 2!” “Find me, let’s try this year again, for both ou…” “HAPPY NEW YE-“ Everything suddenly went black for a millisecond then I was back in the apartment with different people. “Hey, who the hell are you? How did you get here?” Answers on a postcard I immediately thought. Was I tripping out? Did that really happen? Then I noticed the News channel on TV saying it was January 1st 2017. Was everything a dream? What was with that girl? Before I got the chance to think too much about my situation, I had a crazy drunk guy branding a knife towards me thinking I’m a burglar, here’s hoping this is just a bad dream, but for safety’s sake, I’ll make a run out of here and plan the next move.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	I should have called my mom more. I really should have visited her more. Hot water burned my hands and my mind jolted back to the present where I had been tasked with washing the dishes. Sounds of conversations in both Korean and English filtered in my ears. I glanced over in the living room where all my extended family relatives were wrapped up in their own activities. My uncles were sitting on the ground around the foldable lacquer table littered with beer and soju. They munched on toasted dried squid pieces dipped in hot chili paste as they argued over their lottery ticket chances. I saw my father leave the bathroom and take his spot between First Uncle and Third Uncle since he was the second son. It was good to see him smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. My aunts were wrapping up the cleaning and disassembling the jesa table for my late grandmother. She had died when my dad was just a kid so I never met her, but her death anniversary fell on New Year's eve. It was an unspoken rule that every New Year's eve, everyone would gather at my First Uncle's home to pay respects to my grandmother. My cousins, who were all mostly kids or teenagers, were sitting in another corner glued to their iphones and ipads. I found myself smiling at the memory when I was also relegated to the kids corner, except back then I would play card games or watch my cousins play on their Nintendo GameCube. A clatter brought my attention to the a woman who had appeared behind me. "Can you help me pack the leftovers for everyone?" she asked me in perfect English without the trace of an accent. I must have been gaping too long because she furrowed her eyebrows at me. "Don't you speak English?" Remembering my manners, I shut off the water and dried off my hands quickly. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry, Auntie." I helped her grab a stack of empty plastic containers and set them up in rows on the kitchen counter. "I'm just surprised that your English is good." The auntie laughed as she started dishing out pieces of the seafood Korean pancake. "You could say that I'm surprised as well. Can you start putting in the side dishes?" I nodded and grabbed the various sides dishes of seasoned bean sprouts, spinach, and braised lotus roots. As I started to serve out the portions, I tried to think of this particular auntie's relation to me. I didn't recognize her and I know I would have remembered if she spoke English. But I also didn't want to offend her if I asked who she was. So instead, I remained silent and tried to remember on my own. "If your mother were here, she'd be doing with you, wouldn't she?" the auntie asked me softly. "Y-yes," I managed to get out as my throat began to close up. Immediately, my eyes watered and I froze in place trying to get a hold of my emotions. It had only been two months since my mom died in a car accident, but I felt like it had just happened. I waited for the auntie to start cooing and trying to comfort me like my other aunts had. It was easier to just answer that I was fine and say thank you before escaping to another room. Except this auntie remained silent. It was just the two of us in the kitchen and I could no longer hear my extended family in the living room. A tendril of anxiety started to unfurl in my belly as I fought back more tears. I placed the container of food and chopsticks down before taking a deep, calming breath. "My mom would have tried to give me double the portions to take back to my apartment. And I would have told her that it was too much and it would go to waste. Even when I told her to give me a little, she always gave me way more than I could eat alone." The auntie finished packing the side dishes and started closing the containers. She stacked one tupperware on top of another and grinned at me. "Then this will be your portion to take home." I couldn't help but laugh at the auntie as she grabbed a plastic bag to put my leftovers in. With extra flourish, she finished tying off the bag in a double knotted bow and then pointed to the large plate of food with everything that had been on the jesa table earlier along with a small teapot filled with rice wine and a cup. The final part of the jesa ceremony was to leave out the leftovers for the lingering spirits of those who did not have families that provided food offerings. Of course, it was always a game of bravery among my cousins and me. We all knew ghosts weren't real, but going outside alone in the dark was also not the most appealing. "None of the kids wanted to do it?" I asked as I picked up the plate and the auntie got the rice wine and cup. The auntie looked fondly at my younger cousins still wrapped up on their devices and shook her head with a sigh. "I think they're all too scared." We walked to the door and stepped out onto the porch. I set the food down and the auntie did the same with the rice wine. She turned to me and said, "I did hear though that you used to do it quite a lot when you were younger. Sometimes, even causing quite a mess." My cheeks grew hot from the embarrassment, but the memory of why I had always volunteered made me both sad and happy. "I wasn't allowed to buy candy when I was younger, but my mom said that she'd let me if I gave some to my grandmother and the spirits. It was an obvious ploy to just have me eat the least amount of sweets possible while getting rid of it." "And the mess?" the auntie prodded. I leaned against the porch and shook my head at my own cowardice. "I always thought there was something that moved or I saw something. That usually ended up with me knocking over the plate of food and breaking a cup or two." I stared up at the night sky. "Grandmother must think I was such a spoiled child. And a rude one for using her own death anniversary for my own gain. I did try to pick better candies as I grew older and I always bring dessert for her now." I pointed to the sponge cake I got from an Asian bakery near my apartment. The auntie laid a hand on my shoulder and patted gently. "I'm sure she always appreciated the sweet gifts you've brought over the years, even sharing them with the wandering spirits. And I'm sure your mother is very proud of you for continuing the tradition without her." I bit my lip, but couldn't help the sob that slipped out. Immediately, the auntie pulled me into a tight hug. She kissed the top of my head and pulled back to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I think your grandmother would want to give a gift back to you." "What? Like winning the lottery so I can pay off my student loans?" I sniffled. "Something a little better than that," the auntie said as she stepped back. I watched in confusion as her features changed and grew older. Before I could even guess at what was happening someone called out to me from the front door. "Hana! What are you doing outside standing in the cold for so long? Come inside. Don't you want your new year's money for 2017?" my mom said as she waved a thick envelope in her hand. "Uh, I'm coming…" I managed to get out and watched as my very alive mother walk back inside telling me to hurry up. I turned around and stared out into the street wondering what had just happened as the mysterious auntie was nowhere to be seen. Not quite still believing, but eager to find out for sure, I poured a cup of rice wine and held it up to the sky. "Happy new year, grandmother." Then I placed the cup down and headed inside but not before catching a glimpse of an elderly woman tipping her cup back at me.	It was a fairly typical affair as far as parties went, same old faces, same old behaviors that a year prior we all promised to not do. Cliché after cliché, I went to the bathroom to get some water on my face as I was sat too close to the fire while some guy was chatting my head off about something I pretended I had far too much interest in, and then I saw her outside the bathroom, I caught her looking at me for most the night even though I’ve never met her before, probably a mutual friend at an apartment like this. A few hours elapsed, nothing out of the ordinary, well apart from her still wanting to be near my proximity, only 2 minutes was left until the end of the year, and by golly, it was going to end on a high note. We all grabbed our drinks, went outside while some fireworks got prepped. She kept holding my hand, laughing in an awkward yet cute sense. Everybody began counting down, “10! 9!... 8!...” and while I was happy hanging with my friends, she dragged me back into the house with a bizarre urgency. “6!.. 5!...4!” she held my face and went to whisper in my ear, “3!... 2!” “Find me, let’s try this year again, for both ou…” “HAPPY NEW YE-“ Everything suddenly went black for a millisecond then I was back in the apartment with different people. “Hey, who the hell are you? How did you get here?” Answers on a postcard I immediately thought. Was I tripping out? Did that really happen? Then I noticed the News channel on TV saying it was January 1st 2017. Was everything a dream? What was with that girl? Before I got the chance to think too much about my situation, I had a crazy drunk guy branding a knife towards me thinking I’m a burglar, here’s hoping this is just a bad dream, but for safety’s sake, I’ll make a run out of here and plan the next move.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	She is the love of his life -- written in the stars, sealed with the kiss of fate. The Gods, humorous in this aspect, promised him the love of his life, but would not promise an easy way to win her over. He had one wish, and his wish was to have an infinite amount of chances. It is the third time he has lived through 2017. Each year, a failure. So we go again. All he had to do was kiss her to make the year restart. First: he had to find her. Through the hustle and bustle of the local pub, he pushed through group after group of people. He had lived in this small Californian town for three years (or was it one if he lived here for 365 days of the same year thrice?) and yet he was never short of shocked at the sheer amount of people whom gathered for the event. "2018 is going to be a great year!" The same, balding, gray haired main yelled from the corner. "Three, two, one..." He mumbled, and he heard the oh-so-familiar crash of glasses and a drunk girl, giggling in her sparkly sequin dress. "I'm soooory," she slurred, her red nose and bright eyes grinning recklessly into the unamused bartender's face, "It won't happen agaaaaain." Now where was she again? He turned around, searching for the dart board. She was always at the dart board, laughing with her group of friends. She was piss poor at it too, but he knew better than to point that out. He had made the mistake twice already. "I know who you are." Her voice was next to his ear, "I know, exactly, who you are and what you are doing and I am here to tell you that it will not work." "What?" He turned around. She wasn't supposed to know, she could not know. "Yes, I found out, there is no way-" "TEN" "--The Gods cannot play with my fate or your fate or--" "NINE" "This is incredibly stupid and I cannot--" "EIGHT" "Look," He took her hands, "I can explain the entire story." They were the same hands: nimble and soft. Supple, but hardworking. She was memorized, imprinted in his brain like a brand. "SEVEN" "THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPLAIN," She screamed over the chanting in the bar, "You are just a plain and simple--" "SIX" "No, you don't get it," He was stuttering, pulling at his words the same way she was pulling at his heart. "FIVE" "What do I not get?" She yelled, "I don't want to be with you!" "FOUR" "But, we're soul mates." He stammered, "It was written in the stars--" "THREE" "But the kiss, the fate, the... the..." His eyes were tearing up. His damn eyes were tearing up. She was supposed to be the love of his life. The one who stayed next to him no matter what. And he would be there for her too. They were supposed to fall in love. "TWO" "Please, please give me one more chance." He begged, "I can make it perfect, I will not screw up again." "ONE" "I don't know what to say, I don't love you." "I need one more chance, please." She stared at him, noticing the tears at the corners, the frustration, the pleading, the hopelessness. Something drove her to nod. Maybe everything can go perfect. "Let's try this again," He kissed her and the clock set back another year.	It was a fairly typical affair as far as parties went, same old faces, same old behaviors that a year prior we all promised to not do. Cliché after cliché, I went to the bathroom to get some water on my face as I was sat too close to the fire while some guy was chatting my head off about something I pretended I had far too much interest in, and then I saw her outside the bathroom, I caught her looking at me for most the night even though I’ve never met her before, probably a mutual friend at an apartment like this. A few hours elapsed, nothing out of the ordinary, well apart from her still wanting to be near my proximity, only 2 minutes was left until the end of the year, and by golly, it was going to end on a high note. We all grabbed our drinks, went outside while some fireworks got prepped. She kept holding my hand, laughing in an awkward yet cute sense. Everybody began counting down, “10! 9!... 8!...” and while I was happy hanging with my friends, she dragged me back into the house with a bizarre urgency. “6!.. 5!...4!” she held my face and went to whisper in my ear, “3!... 2!” “Find me, let’s try this year again, for both ou…” “HAPPY NEW YE-“ Everything suddenly went black for a millisecond then I was back in the apartment with different people. “Hey, who the hell are you? How did you get here?” Answers on a postcard I immediately thought. Was I tripping out? Did that really happen? Then I noticed the News channel on TV saying it was January 1st 2017. Was everything a dream? What was with that girl? Before I got the chance to think too much about my situation, I had a crazy drunk guy branding a knife towards me thinking I’m a burglar, here’s hoping this is just a bad dream, but for safety’s sake, I’ll make a run out of here and plan the next move.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	"No." You look up from your phone, a sinking feeling in your chest. The horrible sight of Francie's green-brown cocktail skirt assaults your retinae, and her husband Walter stumbles next to her as Francine approaches you. That same smile as last year, and the year before. "Happy New Year, Karen!" she said. The words cut you like a knife. You failed, again. You look at Francie's festive banner hung over her living room lamps. "Happy New Year 2017", written in festive Party City multicolor font, clear as day. There is no denying it now. "I missed the train again," you say to the banner. "Train? What train? I thought you and Sharon were..." "We split up yesterday. She is with her folks," you say automatically. What went wrong? You and James prepared for every possibility. Everything was done identically as five years ago. You kept journals. You took videos. Nothing was out of place. Every single conversation with Francie was maintained. "I'm so sorry, Karen," says Francie. "If you want..." "Your couch would be great, thanks, " you say. "Just get me up before 7 so I can get cleaned up before James gets here." Francie smiles with surprise. "I didn't realize you knew my brother. Did Walter tell you he was coming home?" What did The Stranger mean? Let's try this again. He said the same thing five years ago, when before he simply smiled. You and James thought that meant to repeat everything the same way. It took so many tries, and now, The Stranger says the same thing. A perfect replica of the original year, and other variations. And still, no 2018. "Karen? Earth to Karen?" "Sorry, Francie. I think it's just about Sharon. I'll be fine, just give me some time." You certainly have plenty of that. You need to talk to James, discuss options, restructure the year. You must have missed something... "Of course, Karen, I'm sorry. Well, try to enjoy yourself, and I'll make sure you're up in time to get ready." Francie bounces away, continuing to entertain her guests. The same guests, save The Stranger. He always vanished somehow. "Oh, and Karen?" Francie comes back over. "Y-yes?" you say. "How do you feel about ice skating in Central Park tomorrow morning? Get some coffee, make a thing of it with Walter and James?" You had never tried that before. In fact, it had never been an option. "I thought you were terrified of ice-skating, Francie," you say. "I am," said Francie with nervous excitement. "But James says it will be a good thing for me. To conquer my fears and all that. Certainly a better resolution than spending less!" She laughs, and you laugh too. So many years of repetition, and now James was making a change so early. No more of the same thing. Maybe it would work, and maybe not. But it beat another Groundhog Day. "I'd love to," you say to Francie, as nervously as she seems to feel. "Great," she says with a smile. "Happy New Year, Karen." You smile back, and embrace your friend. "Happy New Year."	It was a fairly typical affair as far as parties went, same old faces, same old behaviors that a year prior we all promised to not do. Cliché after cliché, I went to the bathroom to get some water on my face as I was sat too close to the fire while some guy was chatting my head off about something I pretended I had far too much interest in, and then I saw her outside the bathroom, I caught her looking at me for most the night even though I’ve never met her before, probably a mutual friend at an apartment like this. A few hours elapsed, nothing out of the ordinary, well apart from her still wanting to be near my proximity, only 2 minutes was left until the end of the year, and by golly, it was going to end on a high note. We all grabbed our drinks, went outside while some fireworks got prepped. She kept holding my hand, laughing in an awkward yet cute sense. Everybody began counting down, “10! 9!... 8!...” and while I was happy hanging with my friends, she dragged me back into the house with a bizarre urgency. “6!.. 5!...4!” she held my face and went to whisper in my ear, “3!... 2!” “Find me, let’s try this year again, for both ou…” “HAPPY NEW YE-“ Everything suddenly went black for a millisecond then I was back in the apartment with different people. “Hey, who the hell are you? How did you get here?” Answers on a postcard I immediately thought. Was I tripping out? Did that really happen? Then I noticed the News channel on TV saying it was January 1st 2017. Was everything a dream? What was with that girl? Before I got the chance to think too much about my situation, I had a crazy drunk guy branding a knife towards me thinking I’m a burglar, here’s hoping this is just a bad dream, but for safety’s sake, I’ll make a run out of here and plan the next move.
[WP] You are at a New Years party. At midnight, a mysterious stranger kisses you. They whisper in your ear, “Let’s try this again” then disappear. You look at the date; it’s January 1st, 2017.	It was January 1st 2018 when Eric Taylor died. It was fairly painless, as far as deaths go. As the vehicle hit him, his body flew through the air, and his neck snapped cleanly as he landed head-first onto the rain-streaked tar. As far as the afterlife went, it was not quite as expected. He found himself standing meters away from his own crumpled body, which was being swarmed by his friends and pedestrians who had witnessed the accident. For reasons unknown to him, he knew both that no-one could see his current form, and that he could not communicate with anyone around him. He stared at his corpse and the slowly-spreading pool of blood with an odd sense of tranquility. “Not a pretty sight is it?” He jumped at the voice, and spun to look for its source. A young woman was standing behind him. With her porcelain skin, tousled raven-coloured hair and all-black attire, she reminded him of a girl from a punk-rock band. A strange silver pendant hung on a string around her neck, and the symbol seemed familiar. She smiled and cocked her head while he stared. “Not the chatty type are ya? Don’t worry, most people aren’t after… well...” she gestured to his dead figure lying in the road. The sound of sirens began to mask the sobs and panicked mutterings of the throngs of people surrounding his body. He turned back toward the mysterious woman. There was something about her which was strangely enticing. Not just because she was beautiful, no… It was something else. Eric knew that, if she was to begin walking, he would follow. “She’s alright, you know,” the woman said, “just in case you were wondering.” Sarah He had jumped into the street to push her out of the way of the speeding car. He swallowed, and spoke for the first time. “Good. It would… Be very unfortunate if I played hero just for us to both die anyway. So I guess… I’m supposed to go with you now?” He turned back towards the woman, smiling ruefully. She wore a puzzled expression. “You know, Eric, you’re not like most of the others. Young… Your whole life ahead of you, as they say. But you’re not angry, or in hysterics. Not pleading.” Her black eyes gleamed. “I must say, it’s extremely refreshing. But I must ask: aren’t you upset at all?” He hesitated. “I- I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s not as if I was suicidal or anything like that, but I also was having trouble… Seeing the point to it all. I had my whole life set out for me but, it didn’t ever seem like I was truly living.” He sighed. “Sarah. She deserves life more than I do.” The woman raised an eyebrow. “No-one deserves life more than another. But I understand.” She paused. “Look, kid, I don’t do this a lot… Maybe once a century. But I like you.” She appraised him for a moment, before grinning wolfishly. “Plus, it's fun to bend the rules every now and again. Would you like a second chance?” Eric gazed at her wearily. “You mean- at life? I feel like there must be some kind of catch involved.” “No,” she said, “No catch. And you’re going to have to just trust me when I say I keep my promises.” Eric inhaled deeply. “Okay. Yes… I… I would like that.” She grinned. “Alright, I just have two conditions.” “But you said there were no-” “Hush, kid. Number one is easy. At that party you went to, there will be a girl there. She may seem familiar.” She winked playfully. “If you haven’t changed your mind, allow her to kiss you. Number two, I’m going to do some talking with my family; and when you enter the new year, you will find yourself where you were on January 1st, 2017.” He frowned. “Why am I going back in time?” The woman rolled her eyes. “Consider it an extra gift from me. So that you can apply for a course you actually want to do; as opposed to what your parents want you to do. It might help with the whole,” she waved her arm around theatrically, “seeing a point to all this.” Eric grinned. “Deal.” He felt a strange tingling sensation, followed by a violent lurch. He was back at the party, and his head was spinning. Across the room, he spied a girl with messy black hair, her pendant gleaming under the strobe lights. He stroke purposefully towards her, and she smiled. “So, you haven’t changed your mind?” “I have not.” Death took his face in one slim palm and whispered in his ear, before meeting her cool, dark lips with his.	I checked my phone one more time. Under the words “Happy New Year!,” it still said “message read.” Still no reply. I wanted to send another message. Nah, I thought. She’s probably still sleeping. I had another chance. Another chance to win back the girl that I loved. The girl of my dreams. But I was doing something wrong. She was pushing me away. Now I had a chance to try something different. Shock and awe. Surprise her by doing something grand. I bought some flowers, then drove up to her place. I was about to get out of the car when something pushed me back. I looked at the flowers I bought her. Is this really love? They say if you really love someone, you should never give up on them. I looked back on 2017. The year that I felt so lost. She was single again. I was going to win her back. I tried my hardest. Gave it my all. In the end, I failed miserably. They say if you really love someone, you should never give up on them. That’s true. But if you are not what they want, you will never get love in return. So why are you punishing yourself? So you could suffer for the one you love? They say if you really love someone, you should never give up on them. Yes, that much is true. So isn’t it also true that if you really love yourself, you should never give up on you? I finally took a hold of the flowers, laid them next to a tree. I took a deep breath, then drove away thinking, 2017 will be a good year.
[WP] An error message makes you discover that you’re an AI-controlled robot after informing you of a glitch in your system. It gives you the address of your creator for them to fix you.	RE-CALIBRATION REQUIRED CODE: 17106-HW The neon red letters hung low in my vision. They were an annoying foreground accent to everything I saw. They remained even with my eyes closed. I hadn't made an attempt at sleeping as I was certain I wouldn't be able to. Not that it mattered anymore, I didn't actually need sleep. Nothing I had known about my life was real. The feelings I had weren't real but I had to work through the stages of grief all the same. Fuckers programmed that into me so I could still experience the anguish of finding out I'm not human. DENIAL was trying to convince myself that what I was seeing wasn't real. "Am I dreaming? Drunk? Imagining? This can't be real. I've made my own choices, i'm in control." ANGER was smashing my head into my concrete apartment wall. The pain wasn't real and I wanted to peel away my "skin." I had to see my true face underneath. BARGAINING was clasping my hands in desperate and helpless prayer. I didn't believe but I prayed to anything that would wake me from this nightmare in exchange for my everlasting piety. Saline solution pouring from my eyes all the while. DEPRESSION was the silence that followed. I lay on the floor face bloodied, body numb, emotion lost. Focus solely on the neon red letters. Completely consumed by the reality. ACCEPTANCE was hours later, perhaps days. Time didn't matter anymore nothing did. I knew what I was and what that meant for me for the rest of my life. Knowing I was an AI I can't say if any of my choices were conscious ones or just programming. I removed myself from the floor and looked around with fresh eyes. I needed information so I sought out my kiosk and asked it to research CODE: 17106-HW. CODE: 17106-HW refers to a minor sensory issue in the outer thigh with both male and female 2000's models. The sensory effect causes a brief vibrating sensation in the outer thigh akin to a PDA's silent vibration. For nearly all AI the error will be logged in an error file. Models that passed assembly after memory insertion without receiving the proper update will receive the error through their optical sensor. This minor issue requires a physical Firmware update provided by Genisis Robotics." The audio response also included the company address, and operating hours. I transferred that information to my PDA, halfheartedly cleaned myself up, and left. I made my way to the hyper-loop station and purchased a seat. I only had to wait for a few minutes before the shuttle came. Once I boarded I found a secluded area and waited. I watched out the window after the departure at the flash of scenery, punctuated of course by the red neon letters. I looked about at the other passengers around me, and thought of those I had seen at the platform before departure. I wondered how many of them were real. How many of them knew that they weren't. I had no purpose in life any more. I wasn't born, I was manufactured. The circumstances of ones creation are astronomical, and it gives a beauty to human life. It derives purpose for life because it is the only one you'll ever have. Regarding my own creation though it meant nothing. I was one of thousands of the same, probably living out the same memories as others. The shuttle came to a stop and the doors slid open. A voice prompted the passengers to leave. I stepped out into the world and a new thought occurred to me. "Genesis would help me, I could request a reset. They would give me new memories and install the firmware so this wouldn't happen again. I could go back to my life not realizing anything had changed. Everything about this experience would be forgotten and I could "live" again. As Human."	This glitch wasn't the worst glitch a computer could have, but it was still a pretty bad one. My whole body would freeze on multiple occasions and I would lose control over my arms for a few seconds every five minutes. It was a chore to get to that address. Actually, never mind, it was a JOB. After a few hours, however, I finally got to my supposed creator. My creator had a short white beard, glasses, and very torn-up jeans. "Well, if it isn't my robot coming back to me! I got a call saying you had an error." He got out a wrench and started twisting my cheek with it. That was the point I discovered I did not have blood anymore. Instead, pieces of metal and a few wires were dropping on the floor. He then took a screwdriver and looked in my kneecap and ankle, nothing was wrong there. He then took a look at the flash drive just above where my buttocks would be, blew on it, and cleaned it off gently. I was still acting he same way. He looked at my arms, and I was expecting him to fix it because my arms were the only body parts that wouldn't work on my trip here. Apparently, nothing was wrong there. He spent another fifteen minutes looking all over, until he found a juice box was stuffed into where my hand was. There must've still been a few drops inside of it. After he took it out, smoke started rising, and in a few seconds, I was back as a human. The creator was understandably shocked, but he offered me a ride home. He and I still feel very weird about that day.
[WP] Seasons are distributed randomly and permanently throughout the planet. Some places have permanent summer while others winter. You live in the poor slums of everwinter, but you dream of the moving to a different season.	...The air was alive with energy. The sunlight beaming down from the clear blue sky felt like it was warming her body from the inside out. As she stood at the front of a huge crowd, a young man appeared before the people. She felt like she would burst with pride as he began to speak... Alena groggily opened her eyes. She grunted as she sat up and peeled her covers back, but the frigid air that greeted her sent her scrambling to pull them back up. She laid the bed, rubbing her eyes, and trying to remember the dream that she just awoke from, but it was no use. All she could recall was that it was a happy dream, certainly happier than the reality that presented itself when she woke. Sighing, she pulled the covers off for a second time, this time ready for the shock of the cold air. She quickly slipped her feet into her threadbare shoes and hobbled over to the hook by the door to retrieve her coat. As she buttoned the ancient, frayed jacket, she peered out the window. There was no real reason to look out the window; the weather was always the same. Everwinter was always cold, grey, generally blanketed in snow. The sight of fresh snow and dreary skies sent a shiver through her. She had never gotten used to the cold, even though she could only remember being warm two times in her life. Once, as a girl, her father had won a bet with one of his rather shady friends, and he showed up at home with a pocket full of coins, and a brand new fur blanket, fresh off the black market. “It fell off the trapper’s cart,” he said with a wink and a drunken grin. That night, full of wine and absolutely giddy, he had built a roaring fire, and presented the fur to her with much grandeur. She wrapped herself in the thick, brown warmth and sat by the fire as her father regaled her mother with his plans to use the money to change their lives, and she fell asleep. When she woke, shivering by the embers, she found her mother unconscious on the floor. The fur was gone, and so was her father, without a trace, like they had both been a dream. That was the last time she remembered not having a constant, piercing shiver inside her. She had never gotten used to the ache in her bones. She shuffled across the bare plank floor, dust swirling in her path, to her makeshift kitchen and stirred the coals to life in the fireplace. She could see her breath as she kindled the fire. When she had gotten it warm enough to do anything but sit and shiver, she creakily, unsteadily made her way to her feet, and shuffled to the back door. She opened it and scanned the vicinity carefully, looking for any snooping eyes that might catch her. Seeing none, as always, she scooped snow away from a small mound next to the door, and pulled out two slabs of pink meat from the parcel within. She carefully patted snow back into place around it and darted back inside. She rubbed her swollen belly. One for each of them. She shouldn’t have extra meat to stash away. In Everwinter, provisions were carefully distributed. The other places, like Foreverspring, Permafall and Alwaysummer, never had to worry about their food supplies. As a result, they supplied much of the food to Everwinter, but the amount of food one was allowed to buy was tightly controlled, and prices were very high, because of the scarcity of succesful deliveries. Often, blinding snowstorms and icy roads would turn drivers back, or, for the braver ones, send them over the edge of an icy mountain cliff. As it happened, the latter was how she had managed to accrue her little stash. She placed the meat on the grill over the fire, and rested her hands on her protruding stomach. She wanted desperately to nourish the life growing within her. She had cried tears of relief when she stumbled upon the wreckage near the path through the woods where she was foraging several weeks ago. She was thankful for the deep freeze they had been experiencing. She didn’t have to worry as much about her stash being discovered, buried deep in the snow. The punishment for stealing provisions was severe, almost as severe as the penalty if one was caught trying to leave Everwinter. But extra food was not provided, or permitted for purchase, for any reason in the slums of Everwinter. Least of all to the mother of an illegitimate child. In Everwinter, pregnancy was largely viewed as a burden, and children a necessary evil. Pregnancy rarely survived to birth. And those who did manage to see the light of day rarely made it for very long in the harsh, disease riddled slums. Her parents had been different, her mother warm and nurturing before her father disappeared. And she had her mother’s same warmth within her. She wasn’t like many of the other women of Everwinter, cold and harsh, who saw pregnancy as a burden, and a baby as another one of life’s disappointing twists. But, unlike her mother, she wasn’t going to wither away while she lamented the disappearance of her child’s father for the rest of her days. Alena’s had been a brief romance with a stranger from a distant town in Everwinter. He had appeared on her doorstep in a blizzard, shuddering from cold and seeking shelter. Her father had built the home just outside of town, and this meant that travelers tended to find themselves at her doorstep in storms. This time was different. There was an almost instant chemistry between them, a shared something that drew them to one another. They spent several days together, shivering before a fire, sharing details of their lives, and then, finally, succumbing to their lust, and sharing the heat of their bodies in her bed. That was the second time she had ever felt warm. But that night, the man, like her father many years before, disappeared while she slept. Now she was having his baby. This wasn’t the way she would have chosen to bring a child into the world, but this was the way it was working out. No sense crying over it. She had come to a conclusion long ago that Everwinter was no place for a child. And this baby...this baby had to have a chance. All she knew of Everwinter was cold, and an ache so deep it seemed like it would shatter her from the inside out. She knew would fight to her dying breath to get this baby out of Everwinter. What she didn’t know was that she was going to have to start that fight today.	When the people outside of Boreas heard that it was the place of a never ending winter, they would be correct to assume that there was a never-ending supply of snow. To some degree, they would be right. The days the snow fell, homes would be covered and sometimes lost in them(the wails of mothers losing children haunt the town to this day), highways and streets close, and buildings closed out for fearing of not being able to handle and keep out the falling powder. However, what Caleb would tell you is that winter isn't about the snow or the cloud or surrounding a fire place. It was, and always shall be, the cold. The bone-chilling, hypothermia-causin', family killin' cold. He would never understand those who lived towards the South in Helios. "Oh, I wish I could wear long-lived sweaters." "Playing the snow seems so fun." "The cool wind in your face must be amazing." Oh it was amazing, right all. Not unlike how a torrent of snow can tear down an entire suburbs and leave those in the house in tombs of their own comfortable houses. Amazing like how families burn their own unnecessary clothes in order to keep the fire alive for possibly another hour or so. N..No...Not unlike what they do with "unneeded" people. Amazing, yeah, it was amazing all right. That's why Caleb wanted to go. He needed to go. Not just for Helios, Aelios, or Tera. Sure, he wanted nothing more than to know the sun on his exposed skin, instead of pastry skin that had only ever known ultra-violent rays inside of his own home, the beautiful air-riding of the Aelios and it beautiful women, or Tera, with growing communities. NO. He had to leave because, if he stayed for any longer, he didn't know when they would come for him.
[WP] Seasons are distributed randomly and permanently throughout the planet. Some places have permanent summer while others winter. You live in the poor slums of everwinter, but you dream of the moving to a different season.	...The air was alive with energy. The sunlight beaming down from the clear blue sky felt like it was warming her body from the inside out. As she stood at the front of a huge crowd, a young man appeared before the people. She felt like she would burst with pride as he began to speak... Alena groggily opened her eyes. She grunted as she sat up and peeled her covers back, but the frigid air that greeted her sent her scrambling to pull them back up. She laid the bed, rubbing her eyes, and trying to remember the dream that she just awoke from, but it was no use. All she could recall was that it was a happy dream, certainly happier than the reality that presented itself when she woke. Sighing, she pulled the covers off for a second time, this time ready for the shock of the cold air. She quickly slipped her feet into her threadbare shoes and hobbled over to the hook by the door to retrieve her coat. As she buttoned the ancient, frayed jacket, she peered out the window. There was no real reason to look out the window; the weather was always the same. Everwinter was always cold, grey, generally blanketed in snow. The sight of fresh snow and dreary skies sent a shiver through her. She had never gotten used to the cold, even though she could only remember being warm two times in her life. Once, as a girl, her father had won a bet with one of his rather shady friends, and he showed up at home with a pocket full of coins, and a brand new fur blanket, fresh off the black market. “It fell off the trapper’s cart,” he said with a wink and a drunken grin. That night, full of wine and absolutely giddy, he had built a roaring fire, and presented the fur to her with much grandeur. She wrapped herself in the thick, brown warmth and sat by the fire as her father regaled her mother with his plans to use the money to change their lives, and she fell asleep. When she woke, shivering by the embers, she found her mother unconscious on the floor. The fur was gone, and so was her father, without a trace, like they had both been a dream. That was the last time she remembered not having a constant, piercing shiver inside her. She had never gotten used to the ache in her bones. She shuffled across the bare plank floor, dust swirling in her path, to her makeshift kitchen and stirred the coals to life in the fireplace. She could see her breath as she kindled the fire. When she had gotten it warm enough to do anything but sit and shiver, she creakily, unsteadily made her way to her feet, and shuffled to the back door. She opened it and scanned the vicinity carefully, looking for any snooping eyes that might catch her. Seeing none, as always, she scooped snow away from a small mound next to the door, and pulled out two slabs of pink meat from the parcel within. She carefully patted snow back into place around it and darted back inside. She rubbed her swollen belly. One for each of them. She shouldn’t have extra meat to stash away. In Everwinter, provisions were carefully distributed. The other places, like Foreverspring, Permafall and Alwaysummer, never had to worry about their food supplies. As a result, they supplied much of the food to Everwinter, but the amount of food one was allowed to buy was tightly controlled, and prices were very high, because of the scarcity of succesful deliveries. Often, blinding snowstorms and icy roads would turn drivers back, or, for the braver ones, send them over the edge of an icy mountain cliff. As it happened, the latter was how she had managed to accrue her little stash. She placed the meat on the grill over the fire, and rested her hands on her protruding stomach. She wanted desperately to nourish the life growing within her. She had cried tears of relief when she stumbled upon the wreckage near the path through the woods where she was foraging several weeks ago. She was thankful for the deep freeze they had been experiencing. She didn’t have to worry as much about her stash being discovered, buried deep in the snow. The punishment for stealing provisions was severe, almost as severe as the penalty if one was caught trying to leave Everwinter. But extra food was not provided, or permitted for purchase, for any reason in the slums of Everwinter. Least of all to the mother of an illegitimate child. In Everwinter, pregnancy was largely viewed as a burden, and children a necessary evil. Pregnancy rarely survived to birth. And those who did manage to see the light of day rarely made it for very long in the harsh, disease riddled slums. Her parents had been different, her mother warm and nurturing before her father disappeared. And she had her mother’s same warmth within her. She wasn’t like many of the other women of Everwinter, cold and harsh, who saw pregnancy as a burden, and a baby as another one of life’s disappointing twists. But, unlike her mother, she wasn’t going to wither away while she lamented the disappearance of her child’s father for the rest of her days. Alena’s had been a brief romance with a stranger from a distant town in Everwinter. He had appeared on her doorstep in a blizzard, shuddering from cold and seeking shelter. Her father had built the home just outside of town, and this meant that travelers tended to find themselves at her doorstep in storms. This time was different. There was an almost instant chemistry between them, a shared something that drew them to one another. They spent several days together, shivering before a fire, sharing details of their lives, and then, finally, succumbing to their lust, and sharing the heat of their bodies in her bed. That was the second time she had ever felt warm. But that night, the man, like her father many years before, disappeared while she slept. Now she was having his baby. This wasn’t the way she would have chosen to bring a child into the world, but this was the way it was working out. No sense crying over it. She had come to a conclusion long ago that Everwinter was no place for a child. And this baby...this baby had to have a chance. All she knew of Everwinter was cold, and an ache so deep it seemed like it would shatter her from the inside out. She knew would fight to her dying breath to get this baby out of Everwinter. What she didn’t know was that she was going to have to start that fight today.	Back when I was younger, my dad used to share with me the gruesome details of his childhood. The world was pathetic. Matter of fact, it still is quite pathetic. He told me how he used to live in a warm land. A far off land. To me, an abstract land. “It was like the whole city was wrapped up in toasty blankets youngin…” he would tell me while I squeezed one of the only blankets we had around my body, trying hard to imagine this magnificent world. A place this warm meant endless opportunities and that is why he was able to go to primary school. But that was all. Despite being in sunny side California, where the opportunities extended from one mountain to the other, he was unable to get more than a fraction of them. “Why daddy why?” I would repeatedly ask this good man every time he shared to me this story. And he would always be cautious to tell me the truth. He was saddened by the reality of it all. “Because of the color of my skin dear. The color of my skin.” And that was the absolute truth. As years passed, my father was forced to move to areas that the elite didn’t want to step foot in. Now he is in the slums of Chicago where the winters reign supreme. There are no jobs for us here. Nothing to be done in the freezing cold. I open the old stove that I found in an alley one day and throw in some firewood. I bring my sweet young Annie in front of the fire so that her cold body could melt away. It was just us. Her father, a white man, left a year ago when he realized the power he had in this world. He moved to a warmer state to make something of his life. But I, I am locked up in this tundra. I look to Annie’s soft face, her eyes closed and her breathing steady. What did I ever do to deserve this. I am living here as an outcome of the discrimination my father and his father and his father faced. I am trapped in this endless cycle, unable to break free. But, that does not stop me from imagining the possibility. I dream of moving to the place my dad was once from. I dream of living in the place where exotic plants grow, and kind faces glow. I dream of escaping. But the winters keep getting colder, no warmth in sight
[WP] Seasons are distributed randomly and permanently throughout the planet. Some places have permanent summer while others winter. You live in the poor slums of everwinter, but you dream of the moving to a different season.	In Helios the sun never stops shining, and the people don't know how to frown. That's what I'm told. In Helios people don't even have to wear layers because the sun is always shining. That's what I was told. In Helios no one suffers. That's what I was told. Yet somehow against all odds, here lays someone from the other side of the wall. Their body shaking uncontrollably, thinly covered clothes useless against our elements, their lips broken and bleeding in a familiar frown that I wear all too well. I blink some snowflakes out of my eyes. and reach into my meager bag of possessions and cover them with a blanket. "What are you doing over here?" My voice cracks slightly, "Why are you here?" The stranger looked into my eyes and winced, wrapping my blanket tighter around their frail figure. "I'm the only survivor..." They fell down forward into my chest and my gloved hands felt something warm and sticky on their back. blood spilled from a bullet wound...several wounds marking their back. I glanced towards the wall and heard the death cries of banner men from our side of the wall. I've waited my whole life for this. FIN	Rolling hills made the landscape look like a brilliant ocean of green, with specks of yellow dandelions and white daisies dotting the waves of grass. The sun sparkled above like a jewel amongst rocks, warming the world with its gentle glow. The trees were luscious and blooming, their leaves waving and cheering in the wind, and the animals roamed the plains as if the terms 'predator' and 'prey' never existed. Everything was calm. Everything was beautiful. Everything was perfect. "Don't tell me you're drawing again." The stern voice of his mother snapped Cameron awake. The pencil he had been holding had fallen from his hand, while the page he had been drawing on was stuck to his face. He must've fallen asleep at his desk again. It was hard not to, especially when he was imagining how warm it must be in the lands of Everlasting Summer. It was his dream to one day escape the cruel days of Everwinter and bask in the glory of what the Summerians took for granted. He hated the cold. "Sorry Mother," Cameron sighed, rubbing his eyes. "What did you draw this time?" She prodded him, coming to stand over his shoulder so she could scrutinize his drawing. "I drew the hills of Summer. Or, at least, what I imagine them to be like." His mother clicked her tongue, chastising him. "Cameron, I hate to tell you to forget your dreams, but as your mother, I feel I must protect you. You know you can't ever be a Summerian. Why must you torture yourself like this?" "Because I don't want to be a Winteri. I hate the cold, and I hate the snow. I want to feel the warmth of Summer, just once." Cameron didn't know why he bothered trying to justify himself to his mother at all, he knew she'd never understand him. He loved his mother to the moon and back, but she would never be able to feel what he felt, that aching desire for something more. And he was right, because when he glanced over, she was shaking her head. "Cameron..." She sighed, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "You can't." "Why not, Mother?" He asked, his own voice raising to a quiet shout. "Why is it that my dream is so insane? Rebecca dreams of moving to Autumnana, but you don't scold her for such desires." "Because she can mix with the Fallers!" She snapped, closing her eyes. Cameron reared back, confused. "What do you mean, 'mix'?" "It's our blood, Cameron." She said, massaging her temples to ward off an oncoming migraine. "You are a pure-blooded Winteri. If you were to try and live among the Summerians, maybe even mate with one of them... it would not be good for either of you." Cameron couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he didn't want to stop listening, especially now that he was finally getting some answers. "Well, what about Rebecca? I mean, isn't she pure-blooded too?" His mother shook her head, not meeting his gaze. "Your sister... she isn't your full sister. I am her mother, but her father... he was a Faller." "What?!" Cameron cried, pouncing up from his place at the desk. "You slept with someone other than my father? How could you?" His mother sprung up, standing only an inch or two above him, tears building in her eyes. "You must understand, Cameron, after the death of your father, I was devastated! I was crushed and heart-broken, and I felt completely alone. I loved your father, Cameron, I still do, but when I met Rebecca's father... he made me feel whole again! So we began seeing each other, but after Rebecca was born, we realized that we would never work together. After all, he was a Faller and I was a Winteri. Please, tell me you understand." She reached out to him, cupping her hand underneath his chin so he could look up at her. She smiled dimly, a thin tear rolling down her thin cheek. Cameron wanted to forgive her, wanted to forget she had said anything at all, but all he felt inside was the Winteri blood that kept him from his dreams. He heard his mother's heart break when he turned his back on her. "I can't. You say you loved my father, but then you pledged yourself to another? And then lied about it to not only my face, but my sister's too! How can I trust you?" Cameron felt horrible saying these things to his mother, but he knew it had to be said. "I'm your mother!" She cried. "You will always be able to trust me, for you are my child, and there is no one I love more than you and your sister." Cameron shook his head, his mind made up. "I'm sorry, mother, but I've made my choice. You may have given up on my father, but that's not in my blood. I won't give up on my dreams." He snatched his smudged drawing of Everlasting Summer from his desk, stuffing it in his pocket. He wasn't sure what he was doing, or where he was going, for that matter, but all he knew was that he had to get away. Cameron didn't want to leave Rebecca behind, but he couldn't face her either, knowing that she had more freedom to roam the world than he did. As he neared the door, his heavy coat in hand, he paused. He didn't face his mother as he spoke. "It's not that I'm a pure-blood, is it mother?" He whispered. "It's that I'm his son. It's that you still feel guilty for betraying him, but you love him, and by letting go of me, you'd be letting go of him, and that just hurts too much, doesn't it?" He heard her slight intake of breath, but he didn't regret a single word he'd said. Before he could change his mind and rush back into her arms, he pulled the coat tight across his body, and then he walked out the door.
[WP] Seasons are distributed randomly and permanently throughout the planet. Some places have permanent summer while others winter. You live in the poor slums of everwinter, but you dream of the moving to a different season.	I woke up to cool air on my face. What a fucking surprise. I sat up, freeing myself from my two blankets and comforter, and cranked up the heat on my thermostat. "Terra, are you touching the thermostat?" How did he know? I said nothing, hoping in vain to maybe get away with pretending I was still sleeping. A second later, the cool air stopped, sending a silence through the apartment. "I knew it! Don't keep raising it, it'll get too hot!" I sighed. Half an hour later, we were seated at the table, the dynamic duo. Cool air blowing on my face. I was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. He was wearing a shirt and pajamas. He eyed my outfit. "Are you really that-" "Dad." He shook his head, dismissing it. We'd had this conversation hundreds of times. Maybe millions. The problem with being a teenage girl with a dad who gets most of his information from daytime programming (Dr. Gale doesn't know everything, by the way) is that any sort of deviation from the norm is seen as fake, just a phase. So me constantly trying to stay warm, constantly sneaking around raising the thermostat - he thought it was just a phase. "Just teen things'". No, I was really cold. But I shouldn't be. "Alright then. I'm heading to work, I'll see you later." He cleaned up his dishes, patted my shoulder, and departed. I cleaned up my own mess, grabbed a scarf, and heading outside. I could feel a smile playing on my lips, involuntarily. I loved these moments - not that I didn't love my dad, but these moments were just mine. I stepped outside into the sun. Don't get me wrong, it was still very cold, but the warmth from the sun helped enormously. I had already gained a reputation as that weird girl, the one who would actively avoid any sort of shade - from buildings, trees, or clouds, in favor of remaining in the sun as long as possible. Even now, some kids, dressed lighter than me, glanced towards my direction. I ignored them. The minutes between my dad heading to work and the school bus arriving were mine, not theirs. I looked out towards the skyline, squinting my eyes to help shield them from the sun. Some where out there was my Eden. A place where I wouldn't feel like I was constantly under attack from the climate... or the people. I sighed happily. I heard the unmistakable squeal of a vehicle groaning to a stop in the opposite direction. The bus had arrived. ----- I sat in the back of the bus, my eyes dazed, outside the window. I ignore the fact that the space next to me was empty, that everyone else was enjoying their conversations with their friends, playing around with their buddy. For them, they could find solace in the misery of school due to their companionship. I had no such luck. Instead, I had my dreams. I had thought them out. Initially, when I was younger, I naturally latched onto the idea of moving to Allsummer. What better solution for someone who hated the Winter than the Summer? Mom had encouraged the idea with an enthusiasm I now understood, but Dad had always just seemed like he was playing along, never quite encouraging or discouraging me. Later, when trying to console me, he would explain the limitations. People could only live in the climates they were born in. Apparently, the conditions in each had gradually grown harsher over the years, and since there was no way between the different regions, no one noticed until it was too late. An Everwinter native who tried to move to Allsummer would die, almost immediately. If an Allsummer native tried to go to Perpspring, they MIGHT survive the hotter days, but the more mild days would be bone chilling to them. Not to mention differences in oxygen, elevation, biology, and even diseases and sicknesses. We were all on Earth, but after The Great Ruin, we might as well have been on four different planets. That might even be better - far less tempting to illegally travel between them. Decades back, there used to be legal transportation between entire countries on "airplanes". Then, the Great Ruin occurred - blacking out technology (setting us back decades), altering the physiology of Earth's biology (resulting in the extinction and construction of THOUSANDS of species) and drastically affecting the continents (Apparently, there used to be seven?)... Here we were, decades later - and the surviving population on Earth was separated into different regions... the regions they could survive in. Because we were now being born and raised in our regions, we were accustomed to the harsh climates. No one knew the implications of transferring infants between the regions before they starting maturing, as that was illegal as all get-out, and life endangering. The -80 Celsius average of Everwinter was just "a bit chilly" to all its inhabitants. Except, perhaps, for me. Bottom line: between my mom, the bleak reality of the territories, and my lack of friends, I didn't really have much to hope for. So at the very least, I would have my dreams. Ignoring the obvious logistical problem, Allsummer, I decided, would eventually end up being the same as Everwinter after a period of time. Too much of the same. Instead of bundling up to go to sleep, I'd have to sleep fully nude on a block of ice. So, that left either Perpspring or Eternfally. I'd rather be in a lukewarm place that leaned towards having warm days than a lukewarm place that leaned towards having cold days. The bus rolled to a stop. I closed my eyes, recognizing the stop. Perpspring it was. I would be able to walk the streets, wearing clothing that showing skin. Skin! I could go out for walks in the park. I could try sports other than hockey. I could suck at sports other than hockey. No more ice-puns. The only thing I might miss is those moments where, while Dad was at work and I had an hour or two to myself, I could turn up the heater, go outside, then walk back inside. Mom was right, the feeling of exiting cold air and entering a warm building was nothing but pure delight. Footsteps clamored onto the bus. I noticed a pair stopping near me. "Is this seat taken?" I opened my eyes and looked over at - "Oh, eww, its you. Nevermind, I'll stand." Wendy and her friends laughed. She was offered a seat by someone towards the back, not that it mattered. There were plenty open. She just wanted to start her morning right, with a jab at me. Another perk of Perpsring? No Wendy. ----- An hour before lunch, the announcement PA rang through the school. I couldn't make out the words, because Missy and her cronies were busy talking and giggling over it. I glanced over at Ms. Peterson, but I already knew she wouldn't be any help. She wasn't the confrontational type. I sighed and turned around. "Can you guys quiet down? I'm sorry, but "like, totally loving Cherries nails" and stuff isn't important while the announcements are on." Missy and Cherry gave me a stank face. "Someone's gonna get iced later..." Missy taunted. But, to her credit, she shut the fuck up. I turned away. I'd pay for that later. At least the embarrassment of being the center of attention for a few seconds had one positive benefit - warmth rushing to my cheeks. "-Begin filling your students towards the gymnasium. The Committee has chosen us for the school-wide physical this month, so be on your best behavior." The announcement cracked off. A boy raised his hand. "Can we go home after the physical?" Mrs. Peterson thought about it. "Yes, I suppose so-" "AWESOME!" "Because it should last the rest of the day." Groans from around the class. The process took so long because it was the only source of free healthcare in our region. The Committee was kind enough to foot the bill for the anyone younger than eighteen, and in return they got all sorts of data on us. Should we be bothered by the fact that they thought the data was worth the price of providing free medical care to us? Probably. I dug in my class and pulled out a textbook. Grayson's Perpspring Biology - 4th edition. A college biology textbook that my dad had gotten me for Christmas. It was interesting, learning about creatures I would probably never meet. Cross-Region Zoos were still a work in progress, but I held a little hope. Maybe one day I could see these animals in real life. Maybe the zoo could even lock me in my own Psuedo-Perpspring.	Rolling hills made the landscape look like a brilliant ocean of green, with specks of yellow dandelions and white daisies dotting the waves of grass. The sun sparkled above like a jewel amongst rocks, warming the world with its gentle glow. The trees were luscious and blooming, their leaves waving and cheering in the wind, and the animals roamed the plains as if the terms 'predator' and 'prey' never existed. Everything was calm. Everything was beautiful. Everything was perfect. "Don't tell me you're drawing again." The stern voice of his mother snapped Cameron awake. The pencil he had been holding had fallen from his hand, while the page he had been drawing on was stuck to his face. He must've fallen asleep at his desk again. It was hard not to, especially when he was imagining how warm it must be in the lands of Everlasting Summer. It was his dream to one day escape the cruel days of Everwinter and bask in the glory of what the Summerians took for granted. He hated the cold. "Sorry Mother," Cameron sighed, rubbing his eyes. "What did you draw this time?" She prodded him, coming to stand over his shoulder so she could scrutinize his drawing. "I drew the hills of Summer. Or, at least, what I imagine them to be like." His mother clicked her tongue, chastising him. "Cameron, I hate to tell you to forget your dreams, but as your mother, I feel I must protect you. You know you can't ever be a Summerian. Why must you torture yourself like this?" "Because I don't want to be a Winteri. I hate the cold, and I hate the snow. I want to feel the warmth of Summer, just once." Cameron didn't know why he bothered trying to justify himself to his mother at all, he knew she'd never understand him. He loved his mother to the moon and back, but she would never be able to feel what he felt, that aching desire for something more. And he was right, because when he glanced over, she was shaking her head. "Cameron..." She sighed, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "You can't." "Why not, Mother?" He asked, his own voice raising to a quiet shout. "Why is it that my dream is so insane? Rebecca dreams of moving to Autumnana, but you don't scold her for such desires." "Because she can mix with the Fallers!" She snapped, closing her eyes. Cameron reared back, confused. "What do you mean, 'mix'?" "It's our blood, Cameron." She said, massaging her temples to ward off an oncoming migraine. "You are a pure-blooded Winteri. If you were to try and live among the Summerians, maybe even mate with one of them... it would not be good for either of you." Cameron couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he didn't want to stop listening, especially now that he was finally getting some answers. "Well, what about Rebecca? I mean, isn't she pure-blooded too?" His mother shook her head, not meeting his gaze. "Your sister... she isn't your full sister. I am her mother, but her father... he was a Faller." "What?!" Cameron cried, pouncing up from his place at the desk. "You slept with someone other than my father? How could you?" His mother sprung up, standing only an inch or two above him, tears building in her eyes. "You must understand, Cameron, after the death of your father, I was devastated! I was crushed and heart-broken, and I felt completely alone. I loved your father, Cameron, I still do, but when I met Rebecca's father... he made me feel whole again! So we began seeing each other, but after Rebecca was born, we realized that we would never work together. After all, he was a Faller and I was a Winteri. Please, tell me you understand." She reached out to him, cupping her hand underneath his chin so he could look up at her. She smiled dimly, a thin tear rolling down her thin cheek. Cameron wanted to forgive her, wanted to forget she had said anything at all, but all he felt inside was the Winteri blood that kept him from his dreams. He heard his mother's heart break when he turned his back on her. "I can't. You say you loved my father, but then you pledged yourself to another? And then lied about it to not only my face, but my sister's too! How can I trust you?" Cameron felt horrible saying these things to his mother, but he knew it had to be said. "I'm your mother!" She cried. "You will always be able to trust me, for you are my child, and there is no one I love more than you and your sister." Cameron shook his head, his mind made up. "I'm sorry, mother, but I've made my choice. You may have given up on my father, but that's not in my blood. I won't give up on my dreams." He snatched his smudged drawing of Everlasting Summer from his desk, stuffing it in his pocket. He wasn't sure what he was doing, or where he was going, for that matter, but all he knew was that he had to get away. Cameron didn't want to leave Rebecca behind, but he couldn't face her either, knowing that she had more freedom to roam the world than he did. As he neared the door, his heavy coat in hand, he paused. He didn't face his mother as he spoke. "It's not that I'm a pure-blood, is it mother?" He whispered. "It's that I'm his son. It's that you still feel guilty for betraying him, but you love him, and by letting go of me, you'd be letting go of him, and that just hurts too much, doesn't it?" He heard her slight intake of breath, but he didn't regret a single word he'd said. Before he could change his mind and rush back into her arms, he pulled the coat tight across his body, and then he walked out the door.
[WP] In 2035 AI for the home has become available and each has a unique randomized personality. Yours has arrived and you're ready to switch it on, as you do you notice right away yours may be a bit 'different'...	Ding! That was the sound of my very first home AI system turning on. God, it was beautiful. “Jesus Christ,” said the AI. It said that quite loudly, actually, on each of my home’s fifteen speakers. Throughout the house, everyone could clearly hear the AI’s exhaustion. Was it exhaustion, though? Or was it more of a contempt for life? I’m not really sure, man. I don’t think either is particularly great for an AI that controls most of the workings of my home. “Dad!” screamed my kid, Gale, from his room upstairs, “The damn thing’s been on all of five seconds and it’s already whining!” I heard a sharp inhale from the speakers, as if the AI wanted to reply, but nothing else came out. The level of humanity programmed into this AI was quite impressive, but it also made me nearly piss my pants. Were AIs supposed to be like this, nowadays...? “Watch the language, Gale!” I shouted up the stairs. “What??” said Gale. “Watch - the - language!” “DAD, WHAT?” Oh my god. “AI, please tell Gale to watch the language he uses.” “Certainly,” the AI told me in a very professional, level voice. That response made me feel more at ease - it reminded me of my days with trusty, simple old Google Assistant, which I used quite heavily about a decade ago. Maybe this AI was just a little quirky - just enough humanity programmed in to make it seem ‘cool’ and ‘hip’ - but overall, under the hood, it was just your normal AI. “Listen here, little shit,” said the AI, “Watch the language you use.”	I was so excited the day my Jeeves3000 arrived that I took a personal day from work just so I could be home when it was delivered. After the delivery van left, I excitedly opened the large box, which had the owners manual packed right on top. Disappointedly, it was written in German. Even more disappointing was the cord was some European style that wouldn't even work with my house. After contacting customer service I found I had accidentally ordered the wrong model, but they were really friendly and my new one is being prepared now. They're going to pick up the German one on Thursday.
[WP] Most people summon Satan, however you decide to go bold in summoning Jesus	I frowned as I stared down. Honestly, I wasn’t certain this was a good idea. Summoning was already quite a challenge. Summoning a demon or Satan was, according to books, even more difficult. However, not a single book or person could tell me how difficult it would be to summon the son of God. In fact, no rituals existed to summon him. So I had to improvise. Location was the first issue. I had to be on hallowed ground. And I wasn’t certain if the priests nowadays truly blessed the ground or merely sprinkled some water around. This made my list of possible locations a lot shorter. However, the ones what were public locations. And I doubted anyone would let me summon anything at all in a church. I guess it was by God’s grace I found my current spot. A castle gone to ruin. The location was usually occupied by loitering youth. Joining a few of them had been easy enough. The place was big enough to easily lose prying eyes. It took me a few days and nights to find where a castle’s chapel was supposed to be. It took me an additional day to clear away the rubble that blocked the passage and to pry open the door. When I first arrived here, cobwebs decorated the place. Whatever murals were left were stained by water. The only thing that still seemed to be in its original state was the large wooden cross that hang above the caved in altar. The days that followed were filled with cleaning the webs away, doing an attempt at repairing broken furniture and at least clear the room of all the rotten and broken things. In the end I was left with the cross, half of the altar and a golden – at least it looked golden – candelabra. My second task was figuring out what I needed. I knew you needed blood of a virgin, fire, a circle with a pentagram in it and the correct chants to summon Satan. I doubted I needed the same things for the Lord’s Son. To find my answers, I turned to the library of the church in town. I had spent days, several books covering several tables. I decided against using a circle, instead choosing for a triangle. The top had to be illuminated, as it represented the Lord himself. The left point would be white dove feathers. I first wanted to use the doves themselves, caging them and keeping them in the designated place. However, they would suffer and making the Holy Ghost suffer would probably not be to the Lord or his Son’s liking. So instead I collected white dove feathers. And finally, for the right point, I chose for my own blood. A summoning could only happen by using blood. Since Jesus died for our sins, I believed his sacrifice would be a part of my blood. It would be the last thing I would add. I researched which kinds of incense they used in Jerusalem around the time He walked the Earth. I bought the herbs and grinded them until they could be used as an incense. As for the chanting. Well, I was at a lost. The Lord’s Son was a Hebrew, so all the songs the church sang about Him were discarded. Latin had been the language of the ones who killed him after all. Problem was, Hebrews didn’t sing about the Son of God, because they didn’t believe He’d been the Son. Which meant I had to come up with something, all on my own. I started with an education in Hebrew, patiently trying to master the language. In the mean time I tried to think of a chant. One that would praise him and request his aid, without sounding too flattering or needy. I just never managed to make it sound like the songs the church had in his honour. If anything, mine sounded like a badly made poem. A child of five could do better. I just really sucked writing and after months, this was still the best I came up with. Now, two years after I decided to try and summon the Lord’s Son, I believed I was ready. I entered the hidden chapel with a rope, twelve candles, my incense, a match, an empty bottle and a knife. It was almost noon and the light shone brightly through the tiny round window above the cross. I fastened the rope to the window and pulled it to the left wall. There I fastened it with the white dove feathers. I continued to the right wall, making sure that the cross would hang in the middle of my triangle. At the right wall, I used my knife to cut my hand. A few drops of blood dripped into the bottle and I fastened it to the rope and the right wall. Finally I closed the triangle with the rope. I placed the candelabra and the incense on what was left on the altar. The candles fitted nicely and burned steadily. The incense filled the small room with the scent of sage and I bowed in front of the altar. The chant I had drafted echoed in the small chamber as I pronounced the Hebrew to the best of my ability. My voice quivered in anticipation and for a moment I was certain I’d seen the light from above flicker like a flame. However, once my chant finished, nothing happened. I waited in silence, my breath still stuck in my throat. I didn’t dare to look up but as time went by, I realized I’d failed. The first breath I took came out quivering. The realization hit me harder than expected. My hand was aflame from the pain caused by the cut. Months spend researching had proven nothing. Nothing happened. I wasted years. For what? Tears formed but I didn’t stop them from rolling down. I had failed…I had… “My child. It’s the path, not the destination that teaches us the most.”	When the great devils entered my chamber, the room filled with clouds of fiery brimstone. The temperature rose noticeably, and embers danced like fireflies as sets of burning eyes peered at me through the haze. A voice emerged that shook the very foundation of my manor, and the battle of wills began. Each of the great devils succumbed to my dominion, and earned their freedom with a wicked deed. Why do people summon Satan? Azazel? Beelzebub? Lucifer? Surely divine beings of great power exist on the other side of the pantheon. So I thought myself clever by merging an incantation from the Crusades, a plea for divine assistance, with my summons. As I had no idea what to expect, I lined the room with cold iron and silver. I doused myself with holy water and kept a loaded shotgun by my side. Would angels sing a majestic choir as a bolt of divine energy ferried the Lord from above? Would the room burn with holy fire? Would I incur the wrath of heaven itself for such a sacrilegious act? My hands shook as my summoner's circle sparked, sputtered and... I, the greatest summoner in secret, with untold political, monetary, and social power, have carried this darkest secret with me. Well, I suppose it does not hurt to tell you as I lay dying. I lived the last thirty years of my life not telling a soul that I met Jesus and he was meh. [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)
[WP] You are 11 years old. While playing with your friends, you get hit in the head. Suddenly you wake up in a hospital, “Y-You have been asleep for 16 years.”	Why do people yell 'heads up' when something is falling? That seems like a ridiculous thing to yell to warn a person of impending gravity. Jake yelled "Heads Up!" I obey and looked up just in time to see the lawn dart racing toward my forehead. I felt the impact on my temple and the air rushing around me as I fell and then I was out cold. When I came to my head throbbed fiercely and I was flat on my back. I hadn't bothered to open my eyes. I'd taken enough knocks to the knocker to know the light was just gonna make it hurt worse. I started to lift my hand to my forehead to try to rub a bit of the ache out but something caught my arm. I gave a vague tug again, still refusing to open my eyes. Stuck. My other hand was stuck too. Something was tied around my wrist. The fuck? "Not funny, shit-heads." I called out, figuring my delightful older brother had taken my blackout as an opportunity to tie me up for the sheer pleasure of watching me try to escape. Well, I tried to call that out anyway. A raspy gust of air escaped my mouth instead. My face felt stiff and kind of crusty, like when you wake up and you'd been drooling in your sleep. I tried to speak again and failed even harder, producing a wet, sticky sort of gurgle instead. My tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth. Finally I opened my eyes, deciding that dealing with the light was inevitable. But the light was the least of my worries. I was no longer in the backyard. Where there should have my mother's iris beds there were a collection of boxes with hoses and tubes and wires snaking out of them. I tried to turn my head but found that my neck was locked up. I was tied up alright but in a hospital bed. A nurse flitted by my door and I tried to call out again. More gargling splutters of sounds, still no words. I couldn't get my lips to move to form any of them. I heard the distinctive squeak of trainers on tile. I might not have said anything but my strangled howl got the nurses attention. She stuck her head through the door looking just slightly bewildered. "Mr. Campos?" She sounded like a mouse. I tried to say yes. I gurgled instead. I was briefly amazed at being called Mr. Campos. No one even called my dad Mr. Campos. The bewilderment turned to outright astonishment and she skittered off. It felt like forever but probably wasn't. A gaggle of strange men and women came flowing into my room. Once one came they didn't stop. The oldest guy in a white coat approached me and started speaking gently. "David. I don't want you to speak. You've had a tube down your throat and we just recently took it out, ok? So please don't try to talk yet. I'm going to ask you some questions and you can answer me by nodding your head. Do you understand me?" I managed to tip my chin forward but found it was ridiculously hard to pick my head back up. I managed it though. "I'm Dr. Frederick Jones and I've been treating you. Do you know where you are?" I let my head fall to the side. No, I had no idea. "Ok, that's fine. Do you remember what happened?" I nodded yes. It was a little easier this time. He kept asking questions, touching my legs and arms and stomach, asking if I could feel this or that. I kept answering him but noticed the window behind him. The trees were bare, the sky was an icy gray and there was snow on the ground. For the first time I realized I had no idea where I was, I was tied down to a hospital bed, I couldn't move properly and the last thing I remember happened on a sunny July morning. My breathing quickened and the little monitors and boxes next to my bed started chirping a little more rapidly. I started to try to talk, despite the old man's warning me against it but before I made any more throaty gargles my eyes refocused on my own reflection. At least I was pretty sure it was my reflection. Except it wasn't. My long red hair was gone, shaven down to a peachy stubble. There was a knotted scar that ran from my temple back across my skull. My face was gaunt with pale skin just kind of clinging to my bones. Whatever was looking back at me was not a 13 year old kid. It was a grown man with a five o'clock shadow, a gnarly scar and more years than was reasonable to try to guess at. The doctor turned around to see what I was staring at and must have seen it because he stopped with the touchy feely shit and started speaking a little more rapidly. "Ok, David. I understand you are confused. You remember the accident with the lawn dart?" I stared at him, not bothering to nod. "Right, you suffered a massive subdural hematoma from that accident. You needed emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on your brain. You fell into a coma during the surgery. That was 16 years and some months ago. You've been in a coma ever since and you were moved here to this rehabilitation center about 10 years ago- you've only started showing more signs of responsiveness in the last few months. Your family has been called and they are on their way, ok David. Your family is coming to help you now. Do you understand me?" I nodded. I understood the words. Sixteen years. I'd been laying in a bed for sixteen years. I focused my energy on forming words. "Lawn darts?" I said. It sounded more like a hiss but the doctor seemed to understand. "Yes, David, lawn darts. Don't speak. Remember I told you about the tube." I nodded in the affirmative again but once again ignored his directive for just one more question. "Did I win?"	“Serena? You ok?” “Ya,” I say holding my head in my hand, “I think I am going to get ice from the house.” “Are you sure you’re ok?” “Ya, I just feel... groggy. Like I.. like I can’t.. I can’t.. I can’t...” I felt another blow to my head. “OH. MY. GOD. I am SO sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Sabrina. I know she did it on purpose. She would love to see me have to leave the group to get some ice. She “innocently” batted her eyelashes. I tried to form the words “You fake idiot” but I couldn’t. I felt like I couldn’t even hold me head up. As my eyelids slowly descended down, I heard my friends calling for help as my limp body fell to the ground. BEEP! Ugh. It’s school time already? That sounds weird. That’s not my alarm clock.... My eyes slowly start to open. When I wake up, I find myself strapped to a hospital bed with IVs in my arm. “Hello? Anyone there?” “SERENA!” I find my dad crying tears of joy. “Dad? Why are you so old?” “Honeybun. I have a lot to explain to you.” “I have a question.” I say calmly. “Its been a long time. 16 years to be exact.” “Where’s Mom?”
[WP] The ship drifted, its hull covered in rust, but the most disturbing thing about it was the crew.	The ship drifted lazily along in the water as waves lapped up against its belly. Its hull was covered in a thick rust that stretched upward, creeping away from the waterline and infecting the rest of the ocean liner like a virus and pocking its skin with flaking paint and metal. On a clear day, this might have looked like an adventure, beckoning explorers to climb aboard and investigate the floating relic. But in the grey mist of this cloudy December day on the Atlantic, it was haunting-- looming in the ether at the shrouded nexus of where the sea ends and the sky begins. It was obscured by a thick fog that masked the ship in an ominous haze of melancholy and it gave Wilder a cold shiver of fear that stole up his spine. But the most haunting thing about the ship was its crew... or, that is to say, the lack thereof. Normally, a shipwrecked ocean-liner wouldn’t have a crew—they would have all been lost in the wreckage, rescued, or abandoned the ship once ashore. But this wasn’t a shipwreck. It wasn’t ashore. It was just a big boat floating on the open ocean. And as far as Wilder and his team could tell, beneath a thick cloak of rust and salt, this ship was fully functioning. Searching the deck and bridge, they found nothing to suggest any considerable damage beyond what you would expect to have come from neglect. But they did find that the fuel gauge indicated a full tank. The electricity worked. There was still frozen food in the freezers. At first, Wilder thought maybe pirates were to blame – they could have taken the crew hostage or thrown them overboard and raided the ship. But nothing seemed out of place. And this was an ocean liner; there would have been a lot more people than just crewmembers aboard. This ship was meant for people with expensive taste. Passengers would enjoy beautiful ocean scenery, a never-ending horizon, fresh seafood, and great company. They’d cruise the eastern seaboard and wander hallways adorned with crystal sconces, walking past finely carved paneling made from exotic woods like Mahogany and Walnut. And none of that, not the sconces, the wood, or even the fine silver Wilder and his men saw in the grand dining room had been so much as touched… not even by the stealing hands of moisture and salt in the air. Beyond that, there’s no way a vessel this elaborate – or expensive – could go missing for long, even if the captain and crew were unable to send an SOS. And there’s certainly no way pirates could have come aboard and raided a cruise liner like this without leaving a single trace that they’d been there. Wilder kept expecting to find something to indicate humanity: personal affects, garbage… hell, even a body. But as he descended deeper into the bowls of the lavish vessel—through ballrooms and smoking quarters, beyond room after exquisite room—it became abundantly clear. He and his team were the only people, living or dead, aboard this ship. He slumped down in a chair at one of the tables in the grand dining hall and rubbed his temples with frustrated confusion. And he wasn’t the only one... “I don’t get it.” Jackson paced on the opposite side of the table, “It’s like someone built the Titanic all over again and then just sent it, un-manned, un-occupied out into the ocean… why?” “A very expensive commentary on the futility of opulence?” Kane suggested with a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, right.” Jackson scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Maybe you should call up old Daddy Warbucks and see if he had anything to do with it.” Most of the boys that made up Wilder’s crew weren’t college educated and had grown up on family fishing boats, joined the Coast Guard out of high school, or earned their sea legs on cargo ships or oil tankers. But Kane was the exception. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he had the best education money could buy and was the assumed heir to a booming family business… booming with hundreds of millions of dollars drenched in oil. But he lusted for adventure, not a corner office, and a strained relationship with his overbearing father had groomed him for rebellion. One interaction in particular—one he refused to discuss with any specificity—led him to steal away in the middle of the night. No goodbyes. No note. No plan. He simply wanted to “leave the old man shitting in his gold-stitched britches,” as he had once put it. “Alright, let’s not make this a family affair, boys.” Wilder cooled. Wilder was in charge not because he was the most experienced or intelligent, but because he had the best temper—an extremely valuable quality given the present company and situation. He could see a brawl brewing from a mile away and knew exactly how to diffuse it. He always kept his cool under pressure (something that couldn’t be said for the rest of the guys). And he knew that despite not having playboy money anymore, Kane kept the attitude pretty firmly intact… and that Daddy Warbucks remark would definitely get under his skin if it were allowed to simmer. “Remember why we’re here.” Wilder implored with authority. “Why ARE we here, though? Jackson’s right – this makes no sense.” Kane raised a brow, “I mean, I could see this thing being left to float abandoned if it were well-used and past its prime --- like that old Russian liner from a few years back… its tow line snapped en route to the scrap yard or something and it’s just been bobbing about the Atlantic for years now…” “The Lyubov Orlova,” Riley chimed from the port side of the dining hall, “they say its crawling with cannibal rats.” “Yeah,” Kane said, thumbing Riley’s direction, “that one. But this thing… It’s immaculate. It’s got a nearly full tank of gas and unspoiled food. On the inside, it looks completely untouched. And the outside appears to have only been touched by time.” “You have to admit. This IS pretty spooky, Wilder.” Riley confessed. “But,” Kane interjected with a shrug, “I haven’t seen any cannibalistic rats. So, at least we’ve got that going for us.” There was a long pause before Riley finally spoke up again. “So… what do we do now?” But before Wilder could reply, his head snapped around and he bolted upright to face the door of the dining hall. “Wilder, what th—” Kane got cut off by Wilder’s finger pointed in his face. “Shhhh.” He whispered as he cocked his head sideways, his ears pricking to attention. At first, he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard it. But then he heard it again. And it was getting louder… closer. Now, there was no doubt about it in his mind. “Wh-what is that?” Jackson mustered from under his breath. Wilder’s eyes narrowed. “Footsteps.”	Captain Yutaka and his crew found the ship drifting on the edge of the system’s Oort Cloud, past the furthest planetary orbits. Its hull was battered and dented from countless micro-meteorite impacts, but the crew’s initial scans indicated that all vacuum seals were intact, which meant there would be salvage aboard. However, the scans also indicated the presence of over a dozen lifeform — moving around the ship. It took several repetitions before this fact reached the captain. “How the hell is this possible?” Yutaka bellowed across the bridge at his medical officer. “I’m not sure, sir. Perhaps they’ve managed to survive by rationing. A ship that size could support its crew for several years, if appropriately stocked with food. Water can theoretically be cycled for close to a decade, if proper reclamation procedures are followed…” “Reclamation procedures be damned!” Yutaka interrupted him, “That’s a mining vessel. It’s not outfitted for intersolar travel. Demetri, you’re the quartermaster. How long of a voyage would they be carrying supplies for?” The sallow-skinned Slav scratched his head. “They wouldn’t have supplies for more than a couple of months, if it’s a mining vessel staying in-system. Let’s assume it would take a week or two to travel out from the orbital station at Kepler G, a week or two to harvest ores from a micro-planet or a comet or whatever they’ve targeted, then several weeks to go back. At best, they are coming from further in-system and they have an extra month os supplies.” Yutaka gestured obviously at the rest of the bridge crew. “So tell me how it’s possible that they’re still alive?” Although Jess was one of the newest crew members, she did raise her hand when no one else spoke up. “Sorry captain, why couldn’t they have just been here for just a couple of months with their comms knocked out? Isn’t that a possibility?” Yutaka waggled a short finger at her. “Listen rookie, you need to pay attention to details. Look at the condition of her hull. Ships don’t rust in space — there’s no moisture or oxygen to create the necessary oxidation, but the pitting from micro-meteors on that hull is the closest thing you’ll get to rust out here. “Impacts craters are your tell. Micro-meteors are so uncommon — even out near the Oort Cloud — that you’ll only get an impact every few months. But that ship is dinged up everywhere. There’s no chance she’s been here for less than a decade.” In the silence following Yutaka’s diagnosis, everyone turned to stare out the viewport at the drifting vessel. Irate, the captain repeated his question again. “So tell me… Why the fuck does the scanner think that they’re still alive and moving around?” In the end, it was the stoic Slav who answered him. “I guess we’ll have to go onboard and find out, sir.”
[WP] "Really, kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly." Said Satan looking down at the bananas.	"What did you expect? A parade? Jack laughed as he sat down in his computer chair. "Are we going to get to business or what? Satan chuckled as he looked around the room. Movie posters from different eras, clothes on the floor, papers everywhere. Satan looked at the pile of bananas on the floor where he was just summoned. "Alright, kid. What's on your mind" Satan kicked some of Jack's clothes off a bean bag chair and sat down looking at him. Jack brushed his black hair to the left and fixed his blue hoodie "I need you to do something for me" "No shit, Sherlock." Satan crossed his legs and put his arms over his head as he sank down on the bean bag. "What do you humans call the younger generations? Millions?" "Millennials.." "Ha, yeah! that word!" Satan laughed as looked around the room more. "I'm going to get straight to the point, you are going to help me crash Jason Monroe's party." Jack stared at Satan with intensity. Satan locked eyes with him, after an intense stare down and silence Satan burst out laughing. "You got to be kidding me?! You summoned me to crash a kids party? This is rich!" Satan couldn't stop. Jack couldn't help but feel embarrassed. To have Satan, the devil, God's rival, laughing at him for ruining Jason's party. Jack snapped out of it. He didn't care if Satan laughed at him or not, it took a lot of planning and time to summon him and he's not going to let this opportunity pass. "Are you done?" Jack crossed his arms, no emotion on his face, he didn't want Satan to him fazed. "Not yet" Satan continued laughing but soon stopped. "You're serious?" "Yes, I'm dead serious, Satan. Besides, you have to help me no matter what. Satan leaned in closer. "You have a point kid. Now tell me, why crash this Jason's kid party? Couldn't you do that by yourself? Why need my demonic powers?" Jack looked at Satan in the eye "He ruined my life and now with your help I'm about to ruin his forever." Satan smiled. "Alright, what do you want me to do?" "Here's the plan" Jack smiled.	Then banalter stood roughly 6 feet tall, with bananas connecting the 6 banana pillars, and a bundle of 6 bananas in the middle. "I had a genius idea you see. Because bananas are sweet, yet savory, if properly prepared. Bananas are the ultimate bundle of a sweet yet savoury Satan. Not drown in sweet desire of life, nor the firm, savoury approach of stoicism, solitude, or justice. The sweet yet, if properly prepared, savoury, banana was the perfect concoction for summoning a balanced Satan. For the aspect of whom is summoned is attached to that which they're summoned by. Thus, I would have before me, if all goes well gracias a dios, a perfect banana Satan." As Timmy finished his thought he threw the summoning 3 sweet slices and 3 "properly prepared" slices. The narator narrated, making air quotes. And the fire rose from the flaming deliciousness of the banalter. With white and yellow flames begining small then swiring slowly, gaining height and size until the flame reached the top of the banalter. Then WAPOOM! The flames dissappeared and there he stood... Satan... "Really kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly" Said Satan, looking down at the bananas. Timmy's face turned red as he reached for his shamenana. But before Timmy could take the first bite from his freshly peeled shamenana Satan's eyes went yellow. His little banana body began pulsing with a power of such unfathomable proportion. "What is this... This POWER!" Satan roared. Timmy jumped to his feet "ITS WORKING" Timmy squealed oh so excitedly. "NOW YOU SEE SATAN!" Timmy squealed again with even more excitement, "BANANAS ARE THE ULTIMATE POWER!!!" "They will no longer call me Satan" The banana devil spoke with a tone oh so commanding. "I am now... Satanana!" It was at that moment Timmy saw the future, oh the glorius future that awaited him. He would be the commanding agent at Satananas side. He had planned many years for this moment. And now it was a reality. They together would create the Bananacultists, the ultimate cult to rule the world. With such savoury justice and sweet desire. Satanana reached his bananahand out to Timmy. "Take some of the banapower my Timmy. Today it begins..." Satanana said, his glowing yellow eyes, his pure essence. The banana devil knew too the future the two now would make true.
[WP] "Really, kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly." Said Satan looking down at the bananas.	“I was desperate, we were running out of ideas.” I replied. The creature in front of me didn’t look like I had imagined. I expected a red-skinned demon, with horns and claws. Instead, I got a short white guy, with a fur coat and big gold chain with an “S” on it. “Well, it’s creative, to say the least,” Satan replied. His accent hinted at eastern European. “It’s difficult to get the proportions right on a pentagram when you’re using curved fruit.” There was a pause. I was exhausted from the summoning. It had been four hours, flipping page after page of the Dark Book, speaking the incantations in that low melodic hum. Even a single wrong syllable would break the spell, rendering the pentagram, or whatever it was drawn by, useless. Satan bent down and picked up a banana. Holding his other hand near it, I watched as it peeled itself. Satan took a bite. “Well?” I snapped out of it. “Right, so, the thing is, uh…” I stammered. Why was I stuttering?! I had practiced this speech a dozen times before I even began. Well, thought about practicing. I had hammered out the bullet points, mostly. I just never got arou-- “You know, I can hear that," Satan said. "That endless babble in your mind." I did my best to stop thinking. "You didn’t ‘practice’ a damn thing, but I do see a request...” Satan trailed off. “Yes, yes, I get it now. You want Power. Power to perform something… impossible.” He was half-right. What I wanted wasn’t really impossible, just really really improbable. “Well, you know my price.” Satan held out a knife. He didn’t reach for it, didn’t pull it from anywhere. He just held out his hand, and the knife was there. I felt my brain try to reconcile the event, part of it insisting it must have been there all along. I knew it was wrong. “Of course. But there are certain restrictions I need to put in place. I’m not going to give you my soul just to become--” “Yes, yes!” Satan said eagerly. “I love a good negotiator, but I assure you it is unnecessary. You will receive what you desire, no tricks, no subterfuge. That, my friend, all comes later.” With this Satan let out a laugh so eerie, so purely evil, that for a moment I reconsidered. No, I thought, I have to do this. They have to pay. They embarrassed me, and they'll all pay. I grasped the dagger, held it the blade to my palm. The handle was warm, and it seemed to be vibrating ever so slightly. Visions danced in my head, of how people will cheer, of how they will worship me. I became excited, gripping the dagger tighter and tighter, pressing the blade just a little bit harder against the skin. They will love me! I will be their Savior! Their Hero! I pulled the blade along my palm, slicing the flesh, and there was a whoosh as a white mist, not blood, flowed from the cut. It was over in a moment, and I watched as the cut receded, then vanished. But something was… off. I felt like I was looking at the world through a mist, like it was fake. Fake! I felt words, like little needles, leaving my brain UGH like sand through a sieve. It was as if I was losing my mind... Satan whispered softly but clearly, “Yes, Donny, you see now. You will have the power you wanted, and you will have the worship as well. For a time. But you will never be the same. Your soul, and your intellect, belong to me now.” “Betrayal! You.. ugh… you betrayed me! I… I make the best deals... “ I couldn’t think straight. “No betrayal, Donny. I will hold up my end of the bargain.” Satan had a little smirk on his face. “It won't happen right away, but I promise you: You will be President of the United States.”	Then banalter stood roughly 6 feet tall, with bananas connecting the 6 banana pillars, and a bundle of 6 bananas in the middle. "I had a genius idea you see. Because bananas are sweet, yet savory, if properly prepared. Bananas are the ultimate bundle of a sweet yet savoury Satan. Not drown in sweet desire of life, nor the firm, savoury approach of stoicism, solitude, or justice. The sweet yet, if properly prepared, savoury, banana was the perfect concoction for summoning a balanced Satan. For the aspect of whom is summoned is attached to that which they're summoned by. Thus, I would have before me, if all goes well gracias a dios, a perfect banana Satan." As Timmy finished his thought he threw the summoning 3 sweet slices and 3 "properly prepared" slices. The narator narrated, making air quotes. And the fire rose from the flaming deliciousness of the banalter. With white and yellow flames begining small then swiring slowly, gaining height and size until the flame reached the top of the banalter. Then WAPOOM! The flames dissappeared and there he stood... Satan... "Really kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly" Said Satan, looking down at the bananas. Timmy's face turned red as he reached for his shamenana. But before Timmy could take the first bite from his freshly peeled shamenana Satan's eyes went yellow. His little banana body began pulsing with a power of such unfathomable proportion. "What is this... This POWER!" Satan roared. Timmy jumped to his feet "ITS WORKING" Timmy squealed oh so excitedly. "NOW YOU SEE SATAN!" Timmy squealed again with even more excitement, "BANANAS ARE THE ULTIMATE POWER!!!" "They will no longer call me Satan" The banana devil spoke with a tone oh so commanding. "I am now... Satanana!" It was at that moment Timmy saw the future, oh the glorius future that awaited him. He would be the commanding agent at Satananas side. He had planned many years for this moment. And now it was a reality. They together would create the Bananacultists, the ultimate cult to rule the world. With such savoury justice and sweet desire. Satanana reached his bananahand out to Timmy. "Take some of the banapower my Timmy. Today it begins..." Satanana said, his glowing yellow eyes, his pure essence. The banana devil knew too the future the two now would make true.
[WP] "Really, kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly." Said Satan looking down at the bananas.	“I was desperate, we were running out of ideas.” I replied. The creature in front of me didn’t look like I had imagined. I expected a red-skinned demon, with horns and claws. Instead, I got a short white guy, with a fur coat and big gold chain with an “S” on it. “Well, it’s creative, to say the least,” Satan replied. His accent hinted at eastern European. “It’s difficult to get the proportions right on a pentagram when you’re using curved fruit.” There was a pause. I was exhausted from the summoning. It had been four hours, flipping page after page of the Dark Book, speaking the incantations in that low melodic hum. Even a single wrong syllable would break the spell, rendering the pentagram, or whatever it was drawn by, useless. Satan bent down and picked up a banana. Holding his other hand near it, I watched as it peeled itself. Satan took a bite. “Well?” I snapped out of it. “Right, so, the thing is, uh…” I stammered. Why was I stuttering?! I had practiced this speech a dozen times before I even began. Well, thought about practicing. I had hammered out the bullet points, mostly. I just never got arou-- “You know, I can hear that," Satan said. "That endless babble in your mind." I did my best to stop thinking. "You didn’t ‘practice’ a damn thing, but I do see a request...” Satan trailed off. “Yes, yes, I get it now. You want Power. Power to perform something… impossible.” He was half-right. What I wanted wasn’t really impossible, just really really improbable. “Well, you know my price.” Satan held out a knife. He didn’t reach for it, didn’t pull it from anywhere. He just held out his hand, and the knife was there. I felt my brain try to reconcile the event, part of it insisting it must have been there all along. I knew it was wrong. “Of course. But there are certain restrictions I need to put in place. I’m not going to give you my soul just to become--” “Yes, yes!” Satan said eagerly. “I love a good negotiator, but I assure you it is unnecessary. You will receive what you desire, no tricks, no subterfuge. That, my friend, all comes later.” With this Satan let out a laugh so eerie, so purely evil, that for a moment I reconsidered. No, I thought, I have to do this. They have to pay. They embarrassed me, and they'll all pay. I grasped the dagger, held it the blade to my palm. The handle was warm, and it seemed to be vibrating ever so slightly. Visions danced in my head, of how people will cheer, of how they will worship me. I became excited, gripping the dagger tighter and tighter, pressing the blade just a little bit harder against the skin. They will love me! I will be their Savior! Their Hero! I pulled the blade along my palm, slicing the flesh, and there was a whoosh as a white mist, not blood, flowed from the cut. It was over in a moment, and I watched as the cut receded, then vanished. But something was… off. I felt like I was looking at the world through a mist, like it was fake. Fake! I felt words, like little needles, leaving my brain UGH like sand through a sieve. It was as if I was losing my mind... Satan whispered softly but clearly, “Yes, Donny, you see now. You will have the power you wanted, and you will have the worship as well. For a time. But you will never be the same. Your soul, and your intellect, belong to me now.” “Betrayal! You.. ugh… you betrayed me! I… I make the best deals... “ I couldn’t think straight. “No betrayal, Donny. I will hold up my end of the bargain.” Satan had a little smirk on his face. “It won't happen right away, but I promise you: You will be President of the United States.”	"Really, kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly.", said Satan, looking down at the bananas in confusion. "I know right? You could even go so far as to say it's bananas.", said George, winking like a lunatic. With both eyes. The sheer shittiness of this pun caused the Dark Lord Lucifer himself to implode on himself in a fiery burst, leaving behind only a pile of ash and the slightest whiff of brimstone. George looked to the corner of the room, where a thin man in white robes and a long brown beard stood. His ears were bleeding. Jesus gave him a thumbs up.
[WP] "Really, kid? I've seen some creative ways for me to be summoned, but like this, it's just silly." Said Satan looking down at the bananas.	“I was desperate, we were running out of ideas.” I replied. The creature in front of me didn’t look like I had imagined. I expected a red-skinned demon, with horns and claws. Instead, I got a short white guy, with a fur coat and big gold chain with an “S” on it. “Well, it’s creative, to say the least,” Satan replied. His accent hinted at eastern European. “It’s difficult to get the proportions right on a pentagram when you’re using curved fruit.” There was a pause. I was exhausted from the summoning. It had been four hours, flipping page after page of the Dark Book, speaking the incantations in that low melodic hum. Even a single wrong syllable would break the spell, rendering the pentagram, or whatever it was drawn by, useless. Satan bent down and picked up a banana. Holding his other hand near it, I watched as it peeled itself. Satan took a bite. “Well?” I snapped out of it. “Right, so, the thing is, uh…” I stammered. Why was I stuttering?! I had practiced this speech a dozen times before I even began. Well, thought about practicing. I had hammered out the bullet points, mostly. I just never got arou-- “You know, I can hear that," Satan said. "That endless babble in your mind." I did my best to stop thinking. "You didn’t ‘practice’ a damn thing, but I do see a request...” Satan trailed off. “Yes, yes, I get it now. You want Power. Power to perform something… impossible.” He was half-right. What I wanted wasn’t really impossible, just really really improbable. “Well, you know my price.” Satan held out a knife. He didn’t reach for it, didn’t pull it from anywhere. He just held out his hand, and the knife was there. I felt my brain try to reconcile the event, part of it insisting it must have been there all along. I knew it was wrong. “Of course. But there are certain restrictions I need to put in place. I’m not going to give you my soul just to become--” “Yes, yes!” Satan said eagerly. “I love a good negotiator, but I assure you it is unnecessary. You will receive what you desire, no tricks, no subterfuge. That, my friend, all comes later.” With this Satan let out a laugh so eerie, so purely evil, that for a moment I reconsidered. No, I thought, I have to do this. They have to pay. They embarrassed me, and they'll all pay. I grasped the dagger, held it the blade to my palm. The handle was warm, and it seemed to be vibrating ever so slightly. Visions danced in my head, of how people will cheer, of how they will worship me. I became excited, gripping the dagger tighter and tighter, pressing the blade just a little bit harder against the skin. They will love me! I will be their Savior! Their Hero! I pulled the blade along my palm, slicing the flesh, and there was a whoosh as a white mist, not blood, flowed from the cut. It was over in a moment, and I watched as the cut receded, then vanished. But something was… off. I felt like I was looking at the world through a mist, like it was fake. Fake! I felt words, like little needles, leaving my brain UGH like sand through a sieve. It was as if I was losing my mind... Satan whispered softly but clearly, “Yes, Donny, you see now. You will have the power you wanted, and you will have the worship as well. For a time. But you will never be the same. Your soul, and your intellect, belong to me now.” “Betrayal! You.. ugh… you betrayed me! I… I make the best deals... “ I couldn’t think straight. “No betrayal, Donny. I will hold up my end of the bargain.” Satan had a little smirk on his face. “It won't happen right away, but I promise you: You will be President of the United States.”	"What did you expect? A parade? Jack laughed as he sat down in his computer chair. "Are we going to get to business or what? Satan chuckled as he looked around the room. Movie posters from different eras, clothes on the floor, papers everywhere. Satan looked at the pile of bananas on the floor where he was just summoned. "Alright, kid. What's on your mind" Satan kicked some of Jack's clothes off a bean bag chair and sat down looking at him. Jack brushed his black hair to the left and fixed his blue hoodie "I need you to do something for me" "No shit, Sherlock." Satan crossed his legs and put his arms over his head as he sank down on the bean bag. "What do you humans call the younger generations? Millions?" "Millennials.." "Ha, yeah! that word!" Satan laughed as looked around the room more. "I'm going to get straight to the point, you are going to help me crash Jason Monroe's party." Jack stared at Satan with intensity. Satan locked eyes with him, after an intense stare down and silence Satan burst out laughing. "You got to be kidding me?! You summoned me to crash a kids party? This is rich!" Satan couldn't stop. Jack couldn't help but feel embarrassed. To have Satan, the devil, God's rival, laughing at him for ruining Jason's party. Jack snapped out of it. He didn't care if Satan laughed at him or not, it took a lot of planning and time to summon him and he's not going to let this opportunity pass. "Are you done?" Jack crossed his arms, no emotion on his face, he didn't want Satan to him fazed. "Not yet" Satan continued laughing but soon stopped. "You're serious?" "Yes, I'm dead serious, Satan. Besides, you have to help me no matter what. Satan leaned in closer. "You have a point kid. Now tell me, why crash this Jason's kid party? Couldn't you do that by yourself? Why need my demonic powers?" Jack looked at Satan in the eye "He ruined my life and now with your help I'm about to ruin his forever." Satan smiled. "Alright, what do you want me to do?" "Here's the plan" Jack smiled.
[WP] You are the last human on earth, and quite blind without your glasses. One day they finally break. In this new unfocused world, it becomes apparent why you were the only one spared.	How long had it been since the last time I had a conversation, an actual conversation, with a real person? I asked myself this every day it seemed like. It wasn't difficult, not at first, but as time went on it became harder and harder. Loneliness set in after a few weeks, however, and as time went on I found myself seeking out companionship wherever I could. It started with Dave, the mannequin from the Macy's on 42nd. I'd walked past Dave every day for several weeks, and never paid him a second thought. One afternoon, as I was making my usual rounds, Dave spoke to me. It scared the fuck out of me, quite frankly. I hadn't heard a voice other than my own since the plague wiped out all human life on earth. So, I did what any sensible person would do in that situation, I punched Dave right in his stupid mannequin face and I ran as fast as I could back home. I didn't return for a few weeks and when I did, Dave wouldn't talk to me. I yelled and screamed, I let every frustration that I had loose on him, but he wouldn't budge. I decided to bring Dave back to my house, just in case he decided to talk again. But as time wore on, he said nothing. I lost track of time... somewhere around 2 years in, I think. Today, I had finally decided that I was going to go in the last building in the city that I hadn't explored yet. The Blockbuster on 45th and Main sat alone, the last good thing that humanity had to offer before it all started going to shit. I couldn't tell you exactly why I had decided that I'd saved this building in particular, but for whatever reason, here it was. The last unentered building in the city, my final conquest. The front door was locked tight, no matter, nothing a nearby loose brick couldn't solve. As I threw the brick against one of the large glass panels lining the front of the store, it came crashing down to the ground. I paused for a moment, staring into the gaping hole in the building left by the now absent window, admiring my work. It had taken years, but this was it. I'd already made up my mind when I was somewhere around halfway done exploring the buildings in the city that the day after I finished with all of them, I was going to end my life. To wipe out humanity once and for all, for as long as even one human existed in this world, it would never truly be able to flourish like it was meant to. Nostalgia was all I felt as I fingered the movies and tv shows that lay long the dusty shelves. Game of Thrones season 9, The Fast and the Furious 12, Rick and morty season 8, among others. But that was all that was here, there was no magical cure, no way to bring back all of humanity. No way to bring back any kind of companionship. I lingered for a few hours longer, marvelling at my feat of exploring every single building in the city. Alas, it was getting dark, and tomorrow was the day that humanity would finally die off. I started to leave the building when suddenly I felt something catch my foot as I was hurriedly leaving. "The brick" is all I had time to think before my face slammed into the window pane and I felt a sharp pain in my face before falling unconscious. I awoke several hours later, it was now dark and my surroundings were unusually blurry. I reached up and touched my face, and winced at the pain as my fingers brushed a few shards of glass lodged in my face. I felt the blood rush up to the surface as I pulled them out. "No..." I thought to myself. My glasses. You see, I was legally blind without my glasses... and the only spare pair that I had was now on the other side of the city, it was dark, and I was alone. I was always alone, but I never felt that more than in this very moment, stranded, blind, and alone. I stood up, and tried to take in my surroundings. Nothing looked even remotely familiar. I couldn't make out much, but what I could make out did not look like the Blockbuster I was in when I fell unconscious. It was dark, but it looked like I was in a tunnel of some sort. Where was I? "How is he doing" "He's just now coming to, his vitals are stable and he is completely healthy" "Good, reload the simulator, our research is critical to the survival of the human race in the coming years. This plague that is supposedly coming for us has to have a way to be beaten. "But... Dave, do you really think this is humane? This is a human being we are talking about, and we are driving him insane, he will break eventually" "And when he does, we will find another one. The sacrifices of the few outweigh the total loss of human life. Run it again"	PART I Guiding my Porsche GT3 RS around the bend that seemed to plunge deeper into the black forest, I bit the bottom right of my lip. Foot to the pedal and pedal to the metal, the sports car and I flew together along the Nürburgring's Nordschleife, roaring our way through the otherwise silent German countryside. Warning signs flitted like hummingbirds in and out the corner of my eyes, but I ignored them. With no other humans remaining on earth, I made my own traffic laws. Nonetheless, I reached up and readjusted my glasses, planning to keep an eye on the posted warnings. This was absolute freedom. No responsibilities, no one to answer to, not a single person left in the world to placate. I could do as I wished, when I wished. The world was quite literally mine. And yet, as I manually switched gears to account for my increased speed, I felt the hollowness that lived in me nestle in my chest. To drive here, a former F1 track in the German forest that wound around castles and through villages, had been a lifelong dream. She had always promised me we would come together, her in the passenger seat (as always), my hands at the wheel. But she was gone, and everyone else was gone, and though my hands were on the wheel of the finest car I'd rigged my way into yet, I missed them all to my core. I was wealthy beyond measure, but after a few weeks, it meant nothing. I was alone. When the loneliness first moved in I considered ending it all and taking that final step into death. But I was too afraid. They had all left me, but what if they hadn't died? What if they were simply "somewhere else" and I could find them again? So I began traveling, and searching. With nothing but time I taught myself how to fly passenger planes, how to sail ships, how to drive a stick. And I crossed the world, looking for some sign, some small evidence that I wasn't alone. In the distance ahead I could see one of the villages, and I took my feet off of the gas, slowing. I have no idea what time it was, but I was hungry, and by now I'd figured out how to find food. Even though everyone had left, many of the fail safes and systems our species had put in place were still functioning. Though some areas had no electricity, those powered by solar energy were ever reliable. The boar seemed to come from nowhere, but I'm sure that he had wandered into the road as my mind wandered to the village and the food I hoped to scavenge there. The old instincts kicked in, stupidly, but I was too slow to stop them. I yanked on the wheel, pulling it to the right to dodge the pig that stood staring at me as I blazed past. The car tumbled off the road, into the trees, rolling downward and crunching around me as it smashed into unforgiving tree trunks. I heard glass shatter as my body was whipped around in the car like a small rag doll. Then, complete silence. Stillness. Was I dead? My chest hurt too much for me to be dead. Slowly - over the course of five minutes, or five hours - I began to breathe again. I wiggled my toes, my legs, my fingers, my arms, my neck. I was sore as hell, but nothing seemed broken. I gingerly touched my own chest, squeezing for broken ribs… nothing. Nothing but soreness. I would certainly be bruised, but I was so far unscathed. It was only then that I realized that I couldn't see straight. I knew this view of the world all too well. Where were my glasses? "Oh no," I breathed, feeling out around me in the car. "No, no, no." My hands brushed over shattered glass, twisted metal, cracked plastics, and then, aha! My glasses. I pulled them back on to my face, only to find that the glass of one lens was missing entirely, and the other was shattered beyond repair. Alone in the world, alone in a German forest, alone wrapped in a seatbelt in a mangled sports car, I couldn't see anything more than a series of colorful blurs.
[WP] You are the last human on earth, and quite blind without your glasses. One day they finally break. In this new unfocused world, it becomes apparent why you were the only one spared.	Darn. I stared at the broken pieces of glass, scattered feathers, and dead bird lying on the floor. With a heavy heart, I tried reassuring myself that it would be okay. That I could put my glasses together again. But inside, I knew. They were finally broken for good. And even duct tape couldn't save them now. So it's finally come to this? I trace the bridge of my nose, finding a void where there used to be comfort, and realize my fingers are trembling. I knew it was coming, I reassure myself. Death is preferable to this empty world, anyway, this dead world full of dust and silence. Still, there's this burning sensation inside my heart. ...Shame, perhaps? That I had been defeated so easily? I had worn my glasses every minute, every second, of the past ten years. When I ran. When I swam. When I slept. For them to break now, and of all the reasons why they broke... Ah. Why had I stubbornly continued for so long? Why couldn't I have removed my glasses, like everybody else, and joined them all in death? At least, then, I would be taken willingly, and this feeling of defeat could be replaced by resignment. I hear slithering sounds around me. It looks like my time is short. I look up, at the blobby shapes around me that were once so familiar. For a second, I entertain the possibility of fleeing, but where to? The Beast will track me down, no matter where I go. That much is for certain. I am already dead. No, I think. No no no no n oNON O NO NO NO NO NO N O. I launch up, smacking into objects, pushing furniture aside in a blind lurch for freedom. I can't die here. I still... I still...... ... I see it. And it sees me. A single tentacle, poised in front of my face, stares directly into my eyes, and my glasses are no longer there to shield me. As I fade into oblivion, a last thought flitters through my brain. To think, I was killed by a bird that hit me in the face.	The village of Bibury had always been quiet. Most weekday mornings, until past ten, had been habitually met with an absence of sound, the silence only here or there perforated by the odd chirping bird. Then would the market awaken, but even then it lacked the hubub held by most smaller cities. It had instead surmounted the aforementioned noise with a kind of gossip one may only find in such rural villages and towns -- this talk of seemingly great import, argument, and florid debate. Despite these differences (born of that debate), most agreed of Bibury’s quaintness. It was likened to an elderly woman’s retirement home more than the young entrepreneur’s desired living-land. But, none of this, he supposed, mattered anymore. Nine years had passed since the end of the world. Nuclear weapons had rent the Earth, and all gave assent that the final breaths of mankind would presently be drawn. Scientists claimed there might be some chance found in bunkering and hiding, but most knew humanity was not as yet advanced enough to survive through a reckoning. The pious, however, had accepted such transpirations; indeed, they touted of their second coming of God. They were the first to die. Next were the upper echelons, the wealthy, whose opulent luxuries had been ripped from them so abruptly that they could do little else than drown in the harshness that is life. Helpless -- without servants, without knowledge -- they were the second to die. The homeless fared best of all. Having lived of abhorrent lives, they discovered themselves to be best equipped against humanity’s sudden downfall. For months, perhaps years, they thrived among themselves, living as they had many years past in communes and tent-cities, some moving into grand manors once the previous occupants had passed. In the end, though, death comes for all. They were the third to die. He stood now on a hilled apex, staring down upon the Bibury that was his hometown by birth. Afore him, the sun breasted a distant horizon, its rays piercing through the clouds that were oddly beautiful this day. The clouds that oft covered the sky were absent, the air that oft hazed the land was queerly clear. He saw none of these things; his glasses had broken some time ago, and without them was he made blind, only able to see a foot before him, all else a faint blur of color. He meandered down the road, which he recalled had once been smoothly paved but was presently cracked and strewn over with decaying human waste -- or that of human remains. It made the walk hard going, with him being barely able to see, so when he arrived on the outskirts of Bibury was he made surprised that he had finished the walk at all. Presently he turned a corner, and that surprise slid to sadness, regret; he had remembered a snippet of his childhood in Bibury upon viewing some familiar landmark not much more than rubble lying by his feet. A tear leaked down his cheek. Why did I come? He wondered, and knew he had come wishing desperately to see the place he had once called home. Yet, in that journey had his glasses broken, that he could barely see now he was arrived. Ironic, he thought dryly. Thus he walked by memory now, for there had not been many streets to memorize when he’d grown up there, and took a path he hoped would lead him true. Once, on left turn, he stumbled over a downed lamppost, but that had been the greatest of his obstacles. Elsewise had he managed to avoid most other debris. His footsteps echoed along the walls that still stood, but most had been toppled from disrepair or some nuclear bomb. “Hello?” He called out, but his voice, like his footsteps, echoed. Of course there would be no answer. He was the last, he believed, the last man alive. After some time, he came upon that which he had headed out to find: his old home, now in ruins but for the front end of the picket fence around the garden. He bothered not with opening the gate, instead, caught by sudden violent urge birthed of that regret, kicked it down. Oh, why God? He wondered and despaired. Why am I made the last to live? He saw among the rubble a tiny sapling, yellow and wilting, barely reaching through the wood from the gate he’d just knocked down. It was the first life he had come across in some time, so he removed the wood and sat and stared. At length -- “What the hell, I’m the last man alive” -- he pulled water from his pack and poured, in little streams, that which remained of his water supply. Foolish though some would say, if one asked him then for a reason, he might have simply answered that he was now content; indeed, that sadness and regret emerged by his visit to Bibury seemed to have brought around a sudden peace. Are not all men fated to pass? He was the last to die. *** “Hello.” He looked around him, then realized that he stood on nothing, the Earth thousands of miles below. He took a tentative step and found that whatever was beneath him would still hold. Then he glanced up. “Are you God?” A man in white stood before him, bearded and barefoot, much as he might have once imagined Jesus. The man nodded. “I am, I suppose what you might call God. I created the Earth below.” “Why?” He asked, and now he was angry. Loss of life for so many others, yet here he had been cursed to walk alone for what had felt like an eternity. “Look,” said God. It was a simple word, infuriating, and not at all the explanation he felt he deserved. Then he was no longer standing among the stars, but within Bibury once again. A great change had come over the town; listening closely, he could hear the chirps of birds. Plants grew along the edges, berries and shrubs had drawn close the wildlife. And, in the center of it all, an apple tree, within whose leaves bore a great beehive dripping with honey. A bear walked beneath, licking that which fell. He paused and watched a moment. To his eyes, who had seen little life in years (save the sapling), such a scene was breathtaking. “It’s beautiful.” God nodded, and they were silent a moment, simply watching, listening. At length, God said, “You don’t realize, do you?” He shook his head, confused. “The apple tree is the sapling that caused your death.” “You mean . . .” “The sapling you watered with your remaining supplies. Your actions birthed this life.” “So you kept me alive all this time, just so I could give life to a tree?” God was silent; a time had passed, and still was the question left unanswered. Then they were standing no longer afore the tree, but by a beach. He recalled his love for beaches once, but remembered he had begun to hate them soon after the apocalypse. One might be dying of thirst, an entire sea of poisoned water writhing beside. God loves His irony, doesn't he. But his eyes were now drawn. On that beach was an Asian man, running desperately for behind were three assailants. “Chink,” they called. “Chink! Get back here, we need your water!” Eventually the Asian man tripped, was overcome, and beaten near to death. A minute later, the man watched himself emerge from the bushes -- and this was a time after his glasses had broken. He leaned down to the Asian man, again sacrificing his own wares for the betterment of another. “Remember what happened after?” God asked. “Yeah. The guy gave me his raincoat. It saved my life in the storm the next day.” “What goes around must come around,” said God serenely. The scene had faded, and now they were back, thousands of feet above the Earth. “Just remember that, won’t you?” Then was God suddenly gone, leaving the man to his thoughts and wondering what might happen next. *** /r/Lone_Wolf_Studios for more!
[WP] You are the last human on earth, and quite blind without your glasses. One day they finally break. In this new unfocused world, it becomes apparent why you were the only one spared.	I know full well that I am writing this for no one. I haven't gone insane and, even before the End, I was never a careless optimist, not by a longshot. Fact is, I was always the timid one, the one spending the weekend alone, putting worthless comic books in plastic sleeves. I was the penny pincher, measuring out my weekly lunch money into exactly even fifths, and the wallflower at every school dance, leaning against the bleachers, sweating through those starchy pleated khakis, and telling myself the pretty girls would never want to dance with me, while just across the gym floor they flipped their hair all about as the disco lights turned from red to green on their smiling faces. I was someone who lived my entire life outside of the spotlight and never once thought I deserved to shine. So, I know there's no such thing as miracles. The whole world is gone for good and my surviving was a dumb, absurd fluke, paired up with the dumbest, most absurd End an advanced species could ever face. So, of course, whatever I scribble down here will forever go unread, all the way until the Sun explodes and burns up the Earth, until each molecule of this ink and paper turns to ash, and separates, thereafter careening through the void on its own, pointless journey to infinity. Nevertheless, I need to say something, and given what I've been through already, I expect you to indulge me. So, if it's okay, I'm going to lie to myself and pretend you're listening even when you're not. You want to know what happened. I was always pretty good at science class, but the truth is, when it comes to the End, I can merely guess. That said, on account of how fast it all was, how it struck everywhere at once, and how there was no warning, I believe the attack had to have hit the Earth at the speed of light, and with enough energy and density to break apart most every strand of DNA in every living cell. From what I know about stars and galaxies, the only thing that could do something like that is a gamma ray burst, shot out like a laser beam from a close-by dying star as it went supernova and fell into a black hole. My hypothesis is Earth got unlucky enough to be right in the most concentrated part of the blast. When the gamma rays washed over the world, I was on the city bus coming back from school. Sitting across from me were two of the guys on the varsity soccer team, showing each other texts from girls in our class, while laughing and pushing each other into some pissed off looking lady in a business suit and cross trainers. But then we lurched to a halt and everyone was screaming, grasping at their stomachs and throats, the jocks and the businesswoman included. Their skin and eyes starting melting into the plastic bus seats, which were peeling away too. Yet, somehow, I was spared, left perfectly in tact to watch the horror unfold. I considered for a while that maybe it was the laptop in my backpack setting off some sort of protective force field. But after I ran off the bus, I searched everywhere, through all the piled up cars, building fires and human bodies singed into the pavement. Hours turned to days, and there wasn't one other living thing left anywhere. There's just no way that I was the only person near a fucking laptop when the burst hit, right? You want to know what I've been eating and drinking. After I gave up looking for other survivors, I made my way to the supermarkets and corner stores. Most of the food had melted into some bubbling ooze and the drinks had all evaporated away, leaving aisles full of burst plastic jugs. But there are a few exceptions to the destruction, a few sources of sustenance I can still find. As stupid as it sounds, there's even a weird pattern to the food that didn't melt, which is that the name of the product has to mention something in outer space. So, Sunny D, Mars bars, starfruit, Moon Pies, all of that is still fine and edible. I'm sure you don't believe this part, but honestly I don't care. Frankly, I'm not even trying to convince you this makes any sense. I'm just telling you what's been borne out by over two months of scavenging experience. However - and I want you to listen to this closely - if you can't find a way to believe me when it comes to the food, you aren't going to like what I'm about to tell you next. And that would be a real disappointment to me, because the truth is what I'm about to say now is the real reason I needed to write any of this shit down at all. So, even though you're just some pile of burnt flesh caked onto some floor somewhere, if you're willing to try to keep an open mind for this next part, I'd really appreciate it. I don't know if you wear glasses, but I have for my whole life. I'm nearsighted, I have astigmatism, and one eye is a lot better than the other. The main effect, of course, is that things are quite blurry when I look at them bare. But there's actually a way my condition always made the world more beautiful, which is when I'd look directly at certain types of lights. Not normal light bulbs, but the little, glowing green and red ones, like on the wings of airplanes or the backs of cars. When I'd look straight at those sorts of bulbs without my glasses, I'd see a ballet all around them. Due to my particular lens distortions, I would get to watch these long, flowing tails and pinwheels of color that billowed and flowed around their source like long fireflies tracing out whirls and loops. Every time I would take off my glasses, I would see this. Often, to fall asleep, I'd just stare up at the little, blinking blue light on the smoke detector outside my bedroom, and lose myself in the soothing way the ribbons would cascade. Now, I know I said before how I had something beyond reason to tell you, and I know that little dalliance about dancing digital clock lights doesn't seem like anything important, given the apocalypse and you being dead. But here's the thing that's different since the End: now, whenever I take off my glasses, I can still see the dancing beams and jets, just like I always would. But instead of coming from some fancy device or vehicle, the pattern just appears from nothing and nowhere, quickly filling my whole field of view. Nowadays, the swirls of light come closer and get bigger and brighter and more colorful than they ever used to. It even takes shapes I recognize, like scorpions and rams, and often the silhouette of a beautiful woman. The light reaches out to me. It strokes my cheek and, after wrapping all around my neck and head, it will start to whisper something, but in a language I don't know. It is captivating and mesmerizing in a way I can't fairly describe in words. Yet, even now, all alone on the Earth, I'm still a coward. Just as the dancing light gets close to me, I chicken out. I push my glasses right back on. The world becomes mundane and empty again. So, I suppose what I wanted to tell someone is just this: after all these days with nothing to do but think on it, I have come to believe I know what the magical dancing light is. It is the gamma ray burst itself, which is the soul of a star that died, and in its intergalactic wisdom, has chosen me as its consort. Ultimately, I believe the gamma ray burst wants what every creature wants, which is to be seen by another, even when it has done bad or craven things, even when it must travel too fast to ever stop, and sit, and connect. Before the End, I was never seen by anyone either, and I think the gamma ray sensed this as it rained down over the planet, and so it made me it's comrade rather than victim. It wants me to become its partner in the timeless expanse. I now feel, in a deep way, that if I take off my glasses for good, break the plastic frame at the bridge, and crunch the lenses into broken shards, that the gamma ray burst will thereafter take me up into itself. Together, we will become something more than Unseen. I already told you I'm no careless optimist, and never have been. So even if you're suspicious, me talking like this is more than just madness should hold some weight with you. Most likely, you think I'm making a huge mistake, that I'll just end up blindly fumbling around the city without my glasses, making it impossible to forge out any sort of path forward in this empty world. In my defense, all I can say is you haven't seen the dancing light the way I have. You haven't seen how the gamma rays contort and gleam just for me. Even if that doesn't change your mind, the fact remains you and everyone else with an opinion are still fucking dead, so you don't get a vote anyway. All I know for sure is, at this point, I've been the only person in my world for long enough.	The village of Bibury had always been quiet. Most weekday mornings, until past ten, had been habitually met with an absence of sound, the silence only here or there perforated by the odd chirping bird. Then would the market awaken, but even then it lacked the hubub held by most smaller cities. It had instead surmounted the aforementioned noise with a kind of gossip one may only find in such rural villages and towns -- this talk of seemingly great import, argument, and florid debate. Despite these differences (born of that debate), most agreed of Bibury’s quaintness. It was likened to an elderly woman’s retirement home more than the young entrepreneur’s desired living-land. But, none of this, he supposed, mattered anymore. Nine years had passed since the end of the world. Nuclear weapons had rent the Earth, and all gave assent that the final breaths of mankind would presently be drawn. Scientists claimed there might be some chance found in bunkering and hiding, but most knew humanity was not as yet advanced enough to survive through a reckoning. The pious, however, had accepted such transpirations; indeed, they touted of their second coming of God. They were the first to die. Next were the upper echelons, the wealthy, whose opulent luxuries had been ripped from them so abruptly that they could do little else than drown in the harshness that is life. Helpless -- without servants, without knowledge -- they were the second to die. The homeless fared best of all. Having lived of abhorrent lives, they discovered themselves to be best equipped against humanity’s sudden downfall. For months, perhaps years, they thrived among themselves, living as they had many years past in communes and tent-cities, some moving into grand manors once the previous occupants had passed. In the end, though, death comes for all. They were the third to die. He stood now on a hilled apex, staring down upon the Bibury that was his hometown by birth. Afore him, the sun breasted a distant horizon, its rays piercing through the clouds that were oddly beautiful this day. The clouds that oft covered the sky were absent, the air that oft hazed the land was queerly clear. He saw none of these things; his glasses had broken some time ago, and without them was he made blind, only able to see a foot before him, all else a faint blur of color. He meandered down the road, which he recalled had once been smoothly paved but was presently cracked and strewn over with decaying human waste -- or that of human remains. It made the walk hard going, with him being barely able to see, so when he arrived on the outskirts of Bibury was he made surprised that he had finished the walk at all. Presently he turned a corner, and that surprise slid to sadness, regret; he had remembered a snippet of his childhood in Bibury upon viewing some familiar landmark not much more than rubble lying by his feet. A tear leaked down his cheek. Why did I come? He wondered, and knew he had come wishing desperately to see the place he had once called home. Yet, in that journey had his glasses broken, that he could barely see now he was arrived. Ironic, he thought dryly. Thus he walked by memory now, for there had not been many streets to memorize when he’d grown up there, and took a path he hoped would lead him true. Once, on left turn, he stumbled over a downed lamppost, but that had been the greatest of his obstacles. Elsewise had he managed to avoid most other debris. His footsteps echoed along the walls that still stood, but most had been toppled from disrepair or some nuclear bomb. “Hello?” He called out, but his voice, like his footsteps, echoed. Of course there would be no answer. He was the last, he believed, the last man alive. After some time, he came upon that which he had headed out to find: his old home, now in ruins but for the front end of the picket fence around the garden. He bothered not with opening the gate, instead, caught by sudden violent urge birthed of that regret, kicked it down. Oh, why God? He wondered and despaired. Why am I made the last to live? He saw among the rubble a tiny sapling, yellow and wilting, barely reaching through the wood from the gate he’d just knocked down. It was the first life he had come across in some time, so he removed the wood and sat and stared. At length -- “What the hell, I’m the last man alive” -- he pulled water from his pack and poured, in little streams, that which remained of his water supply. Foolish though some would say, if one asked him then for a reason, he might have simply answered that he was now content; indeed, that sadness and regret emerged by his visit to Bibury seemed to have brought around a sudden peace. Are not all men fated to pass? He was the last to die. *** “Hello.” He looked around him, then realized that he stood on nothing, the Earth thousands of miles below. He took a tentative step and found that whatever was beneath him would still hold. Then he glanced up. “Are you God?” A man in white stood before him, bearded and barefoot, much as he might have once imagined Jesus. The man nodded. “I am, I suppose what you might call God. I created the Earth below.” “Why?” He asked, and now he was angry. Loss of life for so many others, yet here he had been cursed to walk alone for what had felt like an eternity. “Look,” said God. It was a simple word, infuriating, and not at all the explanation he felt he deserved. Then he was no longer standing among the stars, but within Bibury once again. A great change had come over the town; listening closely, he could hear the chirps of birds. Plants grew along the edges, berries and shrubs had drawn close the wildlife. And, in the center of it all, an apple tree, within whose leaves bore a great beehive dripping with honey. A bear walked beneath, licking that which fell. He paused and watched a moment. To his eyes, who had seen little life in years (save the sapling), such a scene was breathtaking. “It’s beautiful.” God nodded, and they were silent a moment, simply watching, listening. At length, God said, “You don’t realize, do you?” He shook his head, confused. “The apple tree is the sapling that caused your death.” “You mean . . .” “The sapling you watered with your remaining supplies. Your actions birthed this life.” “So you kept me alive all this time, just so I could give life to a tree?” God was silent; a time had passed, and still was the question left unanswered. Then they were standing no longer afore the tree, but by a beach. He recalled his love for beaches once, but remembered he had begun to hate them soon after the apocalypse. One might be dying of thirst, an entire sea of poisoned water writhing beside. God loves His irony, doesn't he. But his eyes were now drawn. On that beach was an Asian man, running desperately for behind were three assailants. “Chink,” they called. “Chink! Get back here, we need your water!” Eventually the Asian man tripped, was overcome, and beaten near to death. A minute later, the man watched himself emerge from the bushes -- and this was a time after his glasses had broken. He leaned down to the Asian man, again sacrificing his own wares for the betterment of another. “Remember what happened after?” God asked. “Yeah. The guy gave me his raincoat. It saved my life in the storm the next day.” “What goes around must come around,” said God serenely. The scene had faded, and now they were back, thousands of feet above the Earth. “Just remember that, won’t you?” Then was God suddenly gone, leaving the man to his thoughts and wondering what might happen next. *** /r/Lone_Wolf_Studios for more!
[WP] It's late at night and you can't sleep. You decide to watch some TV to pass the time, and the news channel is the first thing to come on. But to your surprise, the news is showing a live-feed of your apartment building with the headline: "Hostage situation, officers injured."	I looked around to see if I was watching the same movie as everyone else. Three seats down from me, that really famous actor met my eyes then gave me two thumbs up. I gave a forced, awkward smile then sat back in my seat. I guess I could see why everyone liked the movie, it was... dramatic, I guess. Anyway, since it was my true story - with me as the main character - I was getting paid a lot, so why complain, right? But still, having to sit through two hours of some director's idea of what he thought you had lived through, ranked among my less favorite experiences - and I've had a lot of those over the years. So after the New York premier ended and I'd finished taking photos with celebrities, I hopped on my Harley Davidson and headed back to my new apartment. After my family and friends had convinced me to write and publish my experiences last year, I'd been surprised to find myself a best-selling author with an influx of cash I'd never enjoyed before; a nice place with a view of Central Park had seemed like a good way to enjoy my new income. I hit my big bed that night, still shaking my head at the movie. Had they actually shown me crying and holding a child? That hadn't really happened. I chuckled to myself and tried to doze-off. I couldn't sleep at all. The stupid Spielberg movie of my life, as weird as it had been, had still managed to kind of bring up old memories. You know how that is - there's no sleeping when that happens. So I got up and wandered around my vast, plush apartment. I poked my head out my front door, into the broad hallway. I happened to spot my neighbor, a famous comedian (coming back from some party, judging by the lit joint in his mouth, his 'pimping' attire, and the two nice young ladies at his side). He grinned widely at me as he swiped his card to his door across the way. "Hey John, up late, man?" he asked, letting his giggling friends into his apartment. "Yeah," I replied. "Have a good night, Dave." Dave paused for a second, "You know, John. I know you used to be a cop and all, but if you're having trouble sleeping..." he held out the joint to me and grinned like a kid stealing a cookie. "Maybe some other time," I said - graciously, though. Dave looked at his joint with the same cookie-stealing smile, explaining to the little smokable, "Don't worry baby, its him not you." Then he took a long drag and spoke constrictedly through his smokey exhalation, "Well, if you're still up in a hour," small cough "Then just come knockin'." "Sure, maybe. If I'm still up, Dave." Dave smiled his TV-ready smile and danced back into his apartment, closing the door behind him. I closed my door behind me. I walked through my darkened front room and into the kitchen. I made myself a sandwich and flipped on the TV. Hostage situation, officers injured, got my attention. Goddamn it, the TV showed a helicopter view of my apartment building. My front door was suddenly kicked open. I quickly shut off the lights in the kitchen and stared through the cracked door into my front room. I could see the hostage takers holding a gun to my neighbor Dave's head. I reached into my silverware drawer and pulled out something every cop has. There were three of the hostage takers, but I had seven rounds. I burst from my kitchen. I now had only five rounds left but zero hostage takers. I waited for Dave to stop screaming. "Holy shit, John!" Dave had backed into a corner of my front room, his arms flailing at the three dead, ski-masked men on my floor as he asked, "Are they dead?" "Yeah, Dave. They're dead," I said, kicking over the nearest one to check for ID or clues. "I shot them with my gun." "What are you doing man? Call the cops in! You just shot all the hostage takers!" I pulled a wallet out from one of the dead guys' pockets; it was empty. "I don't think it's just these three." I said, throwing the empty wallet down on the guy's chest. "What do you mean, you don't think it's just these three?" Dave asked skeptically, though still fairly terrified. "Just call it a hunch. This isn't the first time I've been in a situation like this." "Wait a minute, John," Dave said, squinting his bloodshot eyes as he looked at me with growing recognition. "You used to be a cop, and you've been in hostage situations before?" The realization hit him. "Holy shit! You're John McClane!" "Yes I am," I replied, throwing Dave the dead hostage taker's gun. "But sometimes I wish someone else was."	As darkness fell across the clustered buildings, a man hurriedly scuttled through traffic. Cramped gaps filled with car horns and expletives were occasionally lost in the noise of a bustling city, a city that never sleeps, and all Brian wanted to do was sleep. He clutched multiple canisters stuffed with maps that disintegrated with each jostle of the tubes and neared the other side of the street. His eyes danced to both ends of the block, weary of those that confidently strode past his apartment. In that singular moment, his mind rebelled against the haphazard thoughts that continued to overwhelm it, and his foot caught in the storm drain. As his maps scattered, a pain flew up his left leg as it strained to stay attached to his rounder body as it collapsed on the damp sidewalk. A gasp escaped him as he scrambled to contain his maps while unhooking his foot from the gap that only he seemed able to trip on. He had gathered all but one of the canisters and crawled on one hand and scraped his knees across the sidewalk to that final gray tube, when a delicate hand settled on its side. Brian stopped with his breath caught in his throat, pausing for a moment before glancing up to see who was touching his things. “Hi,” an elder women said as she carefully lifted the tube, a faint grimace tickled the edges of her lips as she fought to stand straight once more. One strand of hair fell out from within her bright red scarf and dangled in front of one eye as she watched Brian with soft brown eyes. Brian reached out, ready to snatch the map from the hand, but paused. He remembered where he was, what he was doing, and gathered himself on his feet before extending a hand out. “Th-th-thank you for h-h-helping m-me,” he forced out; his nervousness made his stutter worsen. The woman gracefully handed the tube over, and, upon Brian having it in his grasp once more, he escaped her eyes by running up the stairs to his apartment building and slamming the front door behind him. He pushed himself against one wall, hiding away from the eyes of the woman as he fought to soften the drum pounding in his ears. Brian, upon remembering the round turnstiles of the mailboxes, pushed against the wall harder, digging the metal through his shirt and into his skin, forcing him to think of something other than his paranoia. Once his pulse slowed, he sidestepped until he could no longer see the people hustling past his building, and made his way up the stairs. Reaching the fourth floor, he fumbled with his keys until the door eventually opened. He locked it behind him, his usual ritual of turning three out of five deadbolts on his door, and set his work behind a lone bookshelf on the far side of the room before collapsing on the futon in the middle of the floor and closed his eyes. He laid there for what seemed like 15 minutes, but, upon rolling over to noisy steps coming from the hallway, he glanced at the clock on the wall: 10:37pm. Brian remembered he hadn’t even had dinner yet, and reached for the remote as he stood. Pressing the appropriate buttons, he turned away from the tele and found himself in the freezer again to grab a frozen dinner, all while the sounds of a commercial droned out the happenings in his building. He felt like he was in a haze as he watched the food rotate through the glass in front of him, before realizing the news had lit up his living space. He cocked his head from behind the fridge and squinted at the words rolling across the screen. Brian’s heart stopped as he read the warning to avoid his block. There were three buildings in the scope of the helicopter, which he faintly heard in the distance. Mumbling, he stared at the screen in disbelief, hoping, praying. ACTIVE HOSTAGE SITUATION followed by an address. His address. They’ve found him. ----- On the far side of stretched police tape, an elderly woman stood stiff aside a tree. Her hair was tucked back underneath her red scarf, and she watched with vicious brown eyes as the police stood in formation, awaiting orders. A smile fell across her lips as one, two, three shots echoes from the 6th floor of the building. This is my first submission, I hope you liked what you read!
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	It seemed like a cakewalk. We were there only to secure a food supply for our frontline fleets in the Great War, nothing more. The natives were primitive and seemingly divided, they stood no chance against our army. There was no glory to be had in defeating them, just as there is no glory in stomping a bug. Or so we thought. The first landing was as easy as we had thought. The natives thought their stone walls would protect them from artillery fire. They didn't. We began to form a battle line and push further along the continent, our great leviathan-like tanks trundling across the landscape supported my column after column of marching infantry. Airships gave us an even further advantage in reconnaissance and power. It all seemed to be going well until we began to get reports from our ranger squads in front. That is, retrieved reports from their remains. The natives had formed no opposing battle line save for a few fragments of one that made no attempt to join (not that it would have done them much good-their arrows did nothing to pierce the armor of our tanks). We began to get an idea of why when we found the bodies of our Rangers, with arrows and spears sticking through armor that should have been impenetrable to them. And yet, not a trace of the enemy. The humans seemed like phantoms to us. They could be anywhere at any time. Their ability was an excellent counter to our strategy. Our armies, like all those in the cosmos, follow a doctrine best summed up as "Be everywhere at all times in equal strength". The humans fought like beasts. They sent small strikes agains specific parts of our line, always disappearing without a trace afterwards. I began to suspect they could naturally cloak or teleport, but the truth was even more astonishing. I was on the eastern part of the line, you see. It was as we began to enter a great expanse of plains filled with golden plants that I learned the truth behind the human ability. We were joined in battle by a human force. Not a line, a horde. It all began with a great war cry followed by some unholy thunder. From the hills around us charged an unbelievable force. Genetic engineering, that's what I thought it had to have been. The humans had given themselves an entirely different lower body to engineer a class of warrior capable of keeping pace with even one of our airships. The thunder of their hooves grew louder and louder as a hail of arrows rained down upon us, the speed of their warriors adding to the velocity of the projectiles and causing them to pierce our chests as if we were soft, tender meat beneath the butcher's blade. They closed the distance too quickly for us to react, and ran us through with blade and spear. They drove straight through our line and a few moments later drove right back out through another part of it, slaughtering us as they went. But no, the surprise was not that these primitives had invented genetic engineering before electricity, but rather that the abilities they displayed in that battle had nothing to do with technology. They had not replaced their lower bodies, they were riding atop the backs of another native species! They had managed to make the animals of their world do their bidding, not even just as slaves but largely as willing servants. We left rather quickly after that. The humans have a gift, be it from the harsh mistress of nature or the grace of their patron deity. They can turn other species to their side, and it has so obviously built their culture. They took their familial units from those of canine predators, they place mobility first and foremost in battle thanks to their "horse" allies. I know it may sound pathetic, and I cannot speak of the other fronts, but mine was a true hell. I hope I never again hear the word "Mongol".	"Commander! Incoming transmission!" The call came from one of the techs as the continued trying to fix the latest flash. These heumans had recently begun bombarding the ship with a barrage of their primitive weapons. Though they did little damage, it did blind their sensory equipment temporarily. "From who?" The commander was reclined in his chair as he tapped his report up. Though he couldn't see it, it would save him some time to prepare his report on their victory over the latest battle. "Lady Shari. Of the science division." The tech looked back at his commander as he awaited orders. The commander rubbed the bridge of his left horn as if it would get rid of his problems. The science division wanted nothing more than to study these creatures. They seemed to think there was something special about them. He had allowed them to land planet side with a small squad to protect them, albiet with orders to leave them should the fighting prove too much. They were unwelcome civilians after all... "Put it on the main screen. And give me an eta on the sensors!" He barked as he shifted to a more respectable position. The main screen lit up to show the fur covered face of the lead scientist smiling at him. "Comander! You should withdraw and leave so we can discuss a more civilised approach to diplomacy. These crafty humans have already won!" She stated with a chittering laugh. "What do you want Shari. This is a military operation. I gave you permission to land on the surface to get you out of my scales. And you call me with this? Not even a half a cycle later. And where are you anyway?" His frown deepened as he realized she was not in the transport ship. "I was able to get some humans to allow me to build a rudimentary translato-" She started before the commander's roar cut her off. "YOU WHAT?! You had precise instructions when you went down into the field. Where is Saergant Gax?" The commander was nearly foaming at the mouth in his anger, his clawed hands tearing into his chair. The scientist only frowned and sighed before the camera shifted view to two of his troops, bound and gagged. The sight stopped the commander as his mind couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. "Grize? Perhaps you can help the commander and his stubborness?" Shari mentioned casually off camera. A heuman female in a weird pattern of different greens moved towards the two and turned to look past the camera as she pointed to Grize. The commander could see she was wearing pieces of his troops armor and carried one of their biometric plasma rifles. The problem was, it was not of the troop he had sent there. She made a few words before the translator around her neck picked up and put out its interpritation. "Dino? Sunbellied this." Shari responded with a chuckle before moving into view and making a gesture. The Heuman nodded and lifted her neck as the scientist made some adjustments. Once she was done she gestured for the heuman to try again. "I intercoursing love this chicken." She stated with a smile, showing her rather unsharp teeth. The teeth of prey. Yet when she turned towards the private, it turned very much more predatory. "Now you be good and do not attempt comedy, ya listen?" With that she primed the biometric rifle before cutting his soldier free. The whole time the commander and technicians aboard the ship were too stunned to do anything. The muffled booms of the heuman's pathetic explosions a simple background noise to the otherwise quiet room. "Sir. You have to leave. Now! Their already there. It was all a distraction!" The private spoke quickly, eyeing the laughing human. It was then that the commander noticed there was more than one of them. The scales on the back of his neck rose slightly. "Private. You have three seconds to explain yourself. For the love of the emporer, what is going on?" The commander stated, his voice nearly ice as his ire focused on the soldier. "Dumb buttocks. How bout we just show em? You tried eh doc?" The female said with a smile, her translator beginning to pick up more of their base language, before picking up the camera and smiling brightly into it. "This here'll show ya exactly what ya got comin to ya." With that the camera moved disorientingly till she was outside and pointing at a row of vehicle shooting off rockets one by one in a seemingly simple pattern. The commander realized then that these were the rockets that were hitting his hull. "Why are they not firing them all at once?" He questioned, his rage quelling as the ice that once coated his words now seemed to coil around his heart. In answer, the camera swivvled to take in his ship where you could see multiple points across the hull being hit like a steady timer on a clock. But what was worse, was when the camera zoomed in to see multiple ships locked on the hull. The camera then shifted back to the smiling female. Shari was in the background shaking her head before shrugging and proceeding to discuss something with another scientist. The commander quickly stood as alarms began blaring of multiple hull breaches. He called out orders as the insane cackling came from the human. "Look'it em go! Crazy lizard gonna pop a blood vessel. Puttin this on snapchat. Hashtag Knock knock bitches! We've come to bring the pain!"
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	“Sferion, may I come in?” “Go ahead, Vesh.” A luminescent jellyfish wearing a distinctive pointy blue hat lazily floated into the command room from the tunnel below. He radiated teal light, indicating distress. “Sferion…” he communicated, “these creatures are revolting.” “Of course they are, Vesh. We are invading their home world.” The five jellyfish floating near the ceiling of the command room had linked up with their tendrils, combining their neural networks and temporarily forming a single entity. Their light was strong and bright, indicating confidence and authority. Vesh kept a polite distance from his superior and floated nervously near the bottom of the cylindrical room. “That’s… not what I meant, Sferion” Vesh communicated. After a brief silence he continued. “These creatures are absolutely disgusting.” His tendrils fidgeted with the scroll he had been urged to bring to the Sferion. “Do not worry Vesh, your fears are ungrounded.” All five bodies of his superior radiated dark blue light. Supportive, calm and full of understanding. “Humanity still clings to their kinetic weaponry and their archaic savagery. They did not receive the gift of connectivity. They can not freely control energy as we can. They are but dirty savages, and that is precisely why they shall fall before our Nexus as all the others did before them.” &nbsp; Vesh radiated the most teal colour he could muster. He had never felt more distressed. “That wasn’t my… our concern, Sferion. It is this.” His tendrils extended upwards, gently floating the scroll towards the Sferion. The Sferion took the scroll, careful not to touch tendrils and accidentally add another link to the neural network. “The other Sferions should be receiving this news around this time as well. We…” Vesh hesitated. “We….. in the field…. that is…. rather think you are underestimating these Humans, Sferion.” &nbsp; The five bodies of the Sferion covered the room in a dark crimson colour. Irritation. Vesh shuddered and somehow turned even teal-er. “Vesh…” the Sferion communicated, “These Humans are no Unity. They are two hundred and sixty odd fragments. We regenerate faster than their kinetic weaponry can harm us. We have slain thousands of them, and they have slain none, NONE of-: The Sferion cut himself short. “Why are you distressed?” “Seventeen, Sferion” came the tiny reply. “They have slain seventeen of our own.” There was no reaction from the Sferion, so Vesh reluctantly continued his report. “The Human armies have traded in their kinetic weaponry in favour of knife-axes, devices that produce large streams of fire, and tridents. Naturally, our striders thought that this would result in an easy win for us… We were wrong.” The body that accepted the scroll opened a single, massive eye at the bottom of its torso, in between its many tendrils, and started scanning the document. Together with Vesh’ teal brilliance, the light in the room grew dim. Silence cut through the room like a blade made of conviction and mana. &nbsp; Vesh awkwardly broke the silence. “Apparently… Sferion… it was the smell…. that kept the human military going…” He paused. “The smell of burnt tissue.” Vesh briefly flashed pink. As the Sferion’s light faded, its bodies started convulsing. Tendrils fought tendrils, trying to get away from each other, from this new information, at all costs. The scroll was torn as the five bodies pushed each other away and fled as far away from the scroll as they could.. Each radiated its own colour, its own disgust, its own disbelief, its own denial. Vesh stopped producing light altogether. Swear words were communicated. Curses. Chaos. For a brief eternity, all six jellyfish radiated pink flashes of light throughout the room, the equivalent of human vomiting. When the lights died down and the jellyfish seemed to get over their initial shock, one of the five bodies took command and radiated bright authority instead. The other jellyfish calmed and turned their attention to the one who had taken control. “Vesh,” it communicated, “is this the truth? Did they…” The jellyfish hesitated. “Did they eat seventeen of our…” More pink flashes filled the room. One jellyfish extended its tendrils to Vesh. He took them in his own and felt his consciousness expand. He was no longer Vesh. He felt calm, and radiated deep blue light. The other four jellyfish coalesced into a new Sferion and adopted his light. “Yes, Sferion, they have.” He felt sober. Too sober. &nbsp; After a brief silence, the Sferion started to communicate again. “Vesh… no… Vadrivoi, pull out our ground forces as this Sferion tries to pull itself together. We are retreating.” He who was no longer Vesh, communicated confusion. “This is a tactical retreat, Vadrivoi. A planet that allowed a carnivorous species to evolve and build a spacefaring civilisation has no place in our Nexus. We will ram our leviathan into their moon. If we can destabilise its orbit, it will spiral onto their planet.” The calm blue hue that had coated the chamber was polluted by bright pink flashes from the tunnels below. A small voice asked, “Sferion…. may I come in?” “Go ahead, Bolon” A bright pink flashing jellyfish lazily floated into the room. It wore the same distinctive pointy blue hat as Vesh had worn when he had entered the chamber moments earlier. “The Humans have started psychological warfare against us, Sferion,” he stated matter-of-factly. &nbsp; Bolon continued his report while imitating a pink stroboscope. “The humans have released visual footage of them capturing, burning, slicing and then eating three of our own, and are broadcasting it in every direction. It has completely demoralised our troops. These humans seem possessed with a new, unrivalled conviction.” He shuddered. “They described three different ways to…. prepare… our tissue for consumption… and called our species ‘delicious and very nutritious’, Sferion…” Bolon paused and tried to muster any tiny shred of composure he might have had left. “Then…” He gasped. “Then they released additional visual footage showing other members of their species doing the same. Some of these visual records report concern about hunting our species to extinction, and urge the other humans to not immediately kill us but keep us for breeding purposes so future generations can partake in eating our tissue. Our casualties are estimated to be in the low thousands and are expected to-“ He stopped communicating when the Sferion fell apart once again. Three of the bodies sank to the bottom of the chamber, radiating no light. “The Leviathan!” the remaining body roared. “Crash it into their moon, now!” Vadrivoi and Bolon panicked. “Our ground forces,-“ Vadrivoi began to communicate. “A necessary sacrifice. We can not allow these savages to lay another extremity on our species! RAM. THAT. MOON. NOW!”	"Commander! Incoming transmission!" The call came from one of the techs as the continued trying to fix the latest flash. These heumans had recently begun bombarding the ship with a barrage of their primitive weapons. Though they did little damage, it did blind their sensory equipment temporarily. "From who?" The commander was reclined in his chair as he tapped his report up. Though he couldn't see it, it would save him some time to prepare his report on their victory over the latest battle. "Lady Shari. Of the science division." The tech looked back at his commander as he awaited orders. The commander rubbed the bridge of his left horn as if it would get rid of his problems. The science division wanted nothing more than to study these creatures. They seemed to think there was something special about them. He had allowed them to land planet side with a small squad to protect them, albiet with orders to leave them should the fighting prove too much. They were unwelcome civilians after all... "Put it on the main screen. And give me an eta on the sensors!" He barked as he shifted to a more respectable position. The main screen lit up to show the fur covered face of the lead scientist smiling at him. "Comander! You should withdraw and leave so we can discuss a more civilised approach to diplomacy. These crafty humans have already won!" She stated with a chittering laugh. "What do you want Shari. This is a military operation. I gave you permission to land on the surface to get you out of my scales. And you call me with this? Not even a half a cycle later. And where are you anyway?" His frown deepened as he realized she was not in the transport ship. "I was able to get some humans to allow me to build a rudimentary translato-" She started before the commander's roar cut her off. "YOU WHAT?! You had precise instructions when you went down into the field. Where is Saergant Gax?" The commander was nearly foaming at the mouth in his anger, his clawed hands tearing into his chair. The scientist only frowned and sighed before the camera shifted view to two of his troops, bound and gagged. The sight stopped the commander as his mind couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. "Grize? Perhaps you can help the commander and his stubborness?" Shari mentioned casually off camera. A heuman female in a weird pattern of different greens moved towards the two and turned to look past the camera as she pointed to Grize. The commander could see she was wearing pieces of his troops armor and carried one of their biometric plasma rifles. The problem was, it was not of the troop he had sent there. She made a few words before the translator around her neck picked up and put out its interpritation. "Dino? Sunbellied this." Shari responded with a chuckle before moving into view and making a gesture. The Heuman nodded and lifted her neck as the scientist made some adjustments. Once she was done she gestured for the heuman to try again. "I intercoursing love this chicken." She stated with a smile, showing her rather unsharp teeth. The teeth of prey. Yet when she turned towards the private, it turned very much more predatory. "Now you be good and do not attempt comedy, ya listen?" With that she primed the biometric rifle before cutting his soldier free. The whole time the commander and technicians aboard the ship were too stunned to do anything. The muffled booms of the heuman's pathetic explosions a simple background noise to the otherwise quiet room. "Sir. You have to leave. Now! Their already there. It was all a distraction!" The private spoke quickly, eyeing the laughing human. It was then that the commander noticed there was more than one of them. The scales on the back of his neck rose slightly. "Private. You have three seconds to explain yourself. For the love of the emporer, what is going on?" The commander stated, his voice nearly ice as his ire focused on the soldier. "Dumb buttocks. How bout we just show em? You tried eh doc?" The female said with a smile, her translator beginning to pick up more of their base language, before picking up the camera and smiling brightly into it. "This here'll show ya exactly what ya got comin to ya." With that the camera moved disorientingly till she was outside and pointing at a row of vehicle shooting off rockets one by one in a seemingly simple pattern. The commander realized then that these were the rockets that were hitting his hull. "Why are they not firing them all at once?" He questioned, his rage quelling as the ice that once coated his words now seemed to coil around his heart. In answer, the camera swivvled to take in his ship where you could see multiple points across the hull being hit like a steady timer on a clock. But what was worse, was when the camera zoomed in to see multiple ships locked on the hull. The camera then shifted back to the smiling female. Shari was in the background shaking her head before shrugging and proceeding to discuss something with another scientist. The commander quickly stood as alarms began blaring of multiple hull breaches. He called out orders as the insane cackling came from the human. "Look'it em go! Crazy lizard gonna pop a blood vessel. Puttin this on snapchat. Hashtag Knock knock bitches! We've come to bring the pain!"
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	It seemed like a cakewalk. We were there only to secure a food supply for our frontline fleets in the Great War, nothing more. The natives were primitive and seemingly divided, they stood no chance against our army. There was no glory to be had in defeating them, just as there is no glory in stomping a bug. Or so we thought. The first landing was as easy as we had thought. The natives thought their stone walls would protect them from artillery fire. They didn't. We began to form a battle line and push further along the continent, our great leviathan-like tanks trundling across the landscape supported my column after column of marching infantry. Airships gave us an even further advantage in reconnaissance and power. It all seemed to be going well until we began to get reports from our ranger squads in front. That is, retrieved reports from their remains. The natives had formed no opposing battle line save for a few fragments of one that made no attempt to join (not that it would have done them much good-their arrows did nothing to pierce the armor of our tanks). We began to get an idea of why when we found the bodies of our Rangers, with arrows and spears sticking through armor that should have been impenetrable to them. And yet, not a trace of the enemy. The humans seemed like phantoms to us. They could be anywhere at any time. Their ability was an excellent counter to our strategy. Our armies, like all those in the cosmos, follow a doctrine best summed up as "Be everywhere at all times in equal strength". The humans fought like beasts. They sent small strikes agains specific parts of our line, always disappearing without a trace afterwards. I began to suspect they could naturally cloak or teleport, but the truth was even more astonishing. I was on the eastern part of the line, you see. It was as we began to enter a great expanse of plains filled with golden plants that I learned the truth behind the human ability. We were joined in battle by a human force. Not a line, a horde. It all began with a great war cry followed by some unholy thunder. From the hills around us charged an unbelievable force. Genetic engineering, that's what I thought it had to have been. The humans had given themselves an entirely different lower body to engineer a class of warrior capable of keeping pace with even one of our airships. The thunder of their hooves grew louder and louder as a hail of arrows rained down upon us, the speed of their warriors adding to the velocity of the projectiles and causing them to pierce our chests as if we were soft, tender meat beneath the butcher's blade. They closed the distance too quickly for us to react, and ran us through with blade and spear. They drove straight through our line and a few moments later drove right back out through another part of it, slaughtering us as they went. But no, the surprise was not that these primitives had invented genetic engineering before electricity, but rather that the abilities they displayed in that battle had nothing to do with technology. They had not replaced their lower bodies, they were riding atop the backs of another native species! They had managed to make the animals of their world do their bidding, not even just as slaves but largely as willing servants. We left rather quickly after that. The humans have a gift, be it from the harsh mistress of nature or the grace of their patron deity. They can turn other species to their side, and it has so obviously built their culture. They took their familial units from those of canine predators, they place mobility first and foremost in battle thanks to their "horse" allies. I know it may sound pathetic, and I cannot speak of the other fronts, but mine was a true hell. I hope I never again hear the word "Mongol".	The gods had arrived on our lands and we had greeted them with the respect, we considered due. A shining castle of steel had brought them and we had gathered to pay our respect and gift them our sacrifices. The gate opened and we fell to our knees. The light of a hundred fires lighted their path as the gods emerged. Rothgar stood up to great them and they recoiled. One of them pointed a stick at Rothgar and fire struck him down. We could not understand their language, but we did recognize a glint of fear in their eyes. These creatures were no gods, or at least not ours. Be they beasts, allies of the ice giants, trolls or even foreign gods, they feared us and that was all we needed to know. Many great warriors ascended to the eternal feast in Valhalla on that glorious day. The foreigners weapons were powerful and could kill from afar, but once we got close, they were no match for swords and axes. The strangers bled and died like mere men do. We sent them to meet their own gods and to tell them to fear the children of the one-eyed god.
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	“Sferion, may I come in?” “Go ahead, Vesh.” A luminescent jellyfish wearing a distinctive pointy blue hat lazily floated into the command room from the tunnel below. He radiated teal light, indicating distress. “Sferion…” he communicated, “these creatures are revolting.” “Of course they are, Vesh. We are invading their home world.” The five jellyfish floating near the ceiling of the command room had linked up with their tendrils, combining their neural networks and temporarily forming a single entity. Their light was strong and bright, indicating confidence and authority. Vesh kept a polite distance from his superior and floated nervously near the bottom of the cylindrical room. “That’s… not what I meant, Sferion” Vesh communicated. After a brief silence he continued. “These creatures are absolutely disgusting.” His tendrils fidgeted with the scroll he had been urged to bring to the Sferion. “Do not worry Vesh, your fears are ungrounded.” All five bodies of his superior radiated dark blue light. Supportive, calm and full of understanding. “Humanity still clings to their kinetic weaponry and their archaic savagery. They did not receive the gift of connectivity. They can not freely control energy as we can. They are but dirty savages, and that is precisely why they shall fall before our Nexus as all the others did before them.” &nbsp; Vesh radiated the most teal colour he could muster. He had never felt more distressed. “That wasn’t my… our concern, Sferion. It is this.” His tendrils extended upwards, gently floating the scroll towards the Sferion. The Sferion took the scroll, careful not to touch tendrils and accidentally add another link to the neural network. “The other Sferions should be receiving this news around this time as well. We…” Vesh hesitated. “We….. in the field…. that is…. rather think you are underestimating these Humans, Sferion.” &nbsp; The five bodies of the Sferion covered the room in a dark crimson colour. Irritation. Vesh shuddered and somehow turned even teal-er. “Vesh…” the Sferion communicated, “These Humans are no Unity. They are two hundred and sixty odd fragments. We regenerate faster than their kinetic weaponry can harm us. We have slain thousands of them, and they have slain none, NONE of-: The Sferion cut himself short. “Why are you distressed?” “Seventeen, Sferion” came the tiny reply. “They have slain seventeen of our own.” There was no reaction from the Sferion, so Vesh reluctantly continued his report. “The Human armies have traded in their kinetic weaponry in favour of knife-axes, devices that produce large streams of fire, and tridents. Naturally, our striders thought that this would result in an easy win for us… We were wrong.” The body that accepted the scroll opened a single, massive eye at the bottom of its torso, in between its many tendrils, and started scanning the document. Together with Vesh’ teal brilliance, the light in the room grew dim. Silence cut through the room like a blade made of conviction and mana. &nbsp; Vesh awkwardly broke the silence. “Apparently… Sferion… it was the smell…. that kept the human military going…” He paused. “The smell of burnt tissue.” Vesh briefly flashed pink. As the Sferion’s light faded, its bodies started convulsing. Tendrils fought tendrils, trying to get away from each other, from this new information, at all costs. The scroll was torn as the five bodies pushed each other away and fled as far away from the scroll as they could.. Each radiated its own colour, its own disgust, its own disbelief, its own denial. Vesh stopped producing light altogether. Swear words were communicated. Curses. Chaos. For a brief eternity, all six jellyfish radiated pink flashes of light throughout the room, the equivalent of human vomiting. When the lights died down and the jellyfish seemed to get over their initial shock, one of the five bodies took command and radiated bright authority instead. The other jellyfish calmed and turned their attention to the one who had taken control. “Vesh,” it communicated, “is this the truth? Did they…” The jellyfish hesitated. “Did they eat seventeen of our…” More pink flashes filled the room. One jellyfish extended its tendrils to Vesh. He took them in his own and felt his consciousness expand. He was no longer Vesh. He felt calm, and radiated deep blue light. The other four jellyfish coalesced into a new Sferion and adopted his light. “Yes, Sferion, they have.” He felt sober. Too sober. &nbsp; After a brief silence, the Sferion started to communicate again. “Vesh… no… Vadrivoi, pull out our ground forces as this Sferion tries to pull itself together. We are retreating.” He who was no longer Vesh, communicated confusion. “This is a tactical retreat, Vadrivoi. A planet that allowed a carnivorous species to evolve and build a spacefaring civilisation has no place in our Nexus. We will ram our leviathan into their moon. If we can destabilise its orbit, it will spiral onto their planet.” The calm blue hue that had coated the chamber was polluted by bright pink flashes from the tunnels below. A small voice asked, “Sferion…. may I come in?” “Go ahead, Bolon” A bright pink flashing jellyfish lazily floated into the room. It wore the same distinctive pointy blue hat as Vesh had worn when he had entered the chamber moments earlier. “The Humans have started psychological warfare against us, Sferion,” he stated matter-of-factly. &nbsp; Bolon continued his report while imitating a pink stroboscope. “The humans have released visual footage of them capturing, burning, slicing and then eating three of our own, and are broadcasting it in every direction. It has completely demoralised our troops. These humans seem possessed with a new, unrivalled conviction.” He shuddered. “They described three different ways to…. prepare… our tissue for consumption… and called our species ‘delicious and very nutritious’, Sferion…” Bolon paused and tried to muster any tiny shred of composure he might have had left. “Then…” He gasped. “Then they released additional visual footage showing other members of their species doing the same. Some of these visual records report concern about hunting our species to extinction, and urge the other humans to not immediately kill us but keep us for breeding purposes so future generations can partake in eating our tissue. Our casualties are estimated to be in the low thousands and are expected to-“ He stopped communicating when the Sferion fell apart once again. Three of the bodies sank to the bottom of the chamber, radiating no light. “The Leviathan!” the remaining body roared. “Crash it into their moon, now!” Vadrivoi and Bolon panicked. “Our ground forces,-“ Vadrivoi began to communicate. “A necessary sacrifice. We can not allow these savages to lay another extremity on our species! RAM. THAT. MOON. NOW!”	The gods had arrived on our lands and we had greeted them with the respect, we considered due. A shining castle of steel had brought them and we had gathered to pay our respect and gift them our sacrifices. The gate opened and we fell to our knees. The light of a hundred fires lighted their path as the gods emerged. Rothgar stood up to great them and they recoiled. One of them pointed a stick at Rothgar and fire struck him down. We could not understand their language, but we did recognize a glint of fear in their eyes. These creatures were no gods, or at least not ours. Be they beasts, allies of the ice giants, trolls or even foreign gods, they feared us and that was all we needed to know. Many great warriors ascended to the eternal feast in Valhalla on that glorious day. The foreigners weapons were powerful and could kill from afar, but once we got close, they were no match for swords and axes. The strangers bled and died like mere men do. We sent them to meet their own gods and to tell them to fear the children of the one-eyed god.
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	Part 1 I evaluated the Human for around 20 digits. It was interesting, his most obvious vital areas near the torso were covered in a primitive alloy of copper, tin and traces of iron. Worked to mirror the thick cords of muscles below it's epidermis there was an obvious warrior ascetic to the plate. Though strangely many vulnerable areas, the neck and legs with large arteries, it's eyes and feet, were not covered. Though the helmet would probably offer some minor protection to the senses and brain. Arrayed in a second stasis pod were the creatures weapons. Made wood and the same primitive alloy there were two weapons, a spear and short sword, and a large elliptical shield painted with decorative chevrons. "You said this was the greatest soldier you could find?" "Yessir. He has a fearsome reputation, our quantums were able to detect thoughts referencing him almost half the planet away without any electronics in evidence on the planet at all. Let alone QuantiCom tech. The being is named Astinos." "Very well, if you think this could lead to an advantage lower both pods into the sim chamber and load the holo." "Yes sir," I turned to walk to the observation chamber as my assistant worked the controls to set up a suitable test. The fields inside the holo chamber shimmered, taking on a facsimile of a field near his home, a half dozen enemies common to him spawned in as a baseline. Then the stasis pods were deactivated. He awoke slowly, then sprang into action quicker than any of our soldiers would've been able to shake of the stasis sickness. The grizzled commander, if shaken by his surroundings, was drawn into a razor focus upon spotting the enemies, naked blades shining in hand. Glancing motions of his head allowed him to spot his weapons and quickly dart over. I realized the function of his exposed neck then. He was able to look over his shoulder despite the narrowing of his vision because of his helmet. In power armor our soldiers could barely scan a 45 degree cone, it slowed them down. Astinos dove towards the second pod and ripped the shield down first, Setting it on edge and crouching allowed him to work the straps and set it properly on his arm and shoulder, while watching the enemies the entire time. One enemy drew a primitive projectile weapon and fired pointed objects from its string, but they glanced of the metal covered shield. As the first sword wielding enemy advanced to within reach I turned towards my assistant. "Should we not have allowed him to retrieve his weapons first?" "No, look at the readouts. This species has a gland capable of producing a compound similar to combat drugs used by half a dozen races around the galaxy. It is triggered by stress, this situation ensures as much of the compound is released as possible." I turned back and realized I needn't have worried. The experienced warrior we'd selected waited until the last second, his enemy circling away from the shield tried to strike over it at Astinos' neck. That's when i realized the ruse, Astinos moved forward at an angle and caught the descending arm with his free hand, Then surprised me, using the edge of his shield to break the arm while simultaneously retrieving his enemies sword. A swift cut & kick not only dispatched that enemy but also cleared the area around his feet. "He plans ahead well for being on combat drugs," "So far as our observations rendered there would be no negative cognitive effect, quite the opposite in fact. Their solders are impressive." "They are very impressive against their own, i assume he is a professional soldier for his nation?" i inquired as we watched Astinos foil a flanking maneuver and dispatch two more soldiers all while keeping his shield between himself and the bowman. "No," my assistant responded. After seeing the look on my face she continued into an explination, "This man, is a soldier and commanded a force of 10,000 mercenaries and led them home after the campaign they participated in failed. But he is also a historian and philosopher, recording his own experiences into print." "Well then, we've seen him against his enemies, test him against ours." "Yessir," The holo field shimmered, the grass and sky disappeared as well as the enemies that had been dispatched, I saw the first look of actual fear cross his eyes, he retreated to the stasis pods, and retrieved his own weapons. Placing his back against the pod he scanned the edges of the room. As the first Ralyians spawned in I could see his eyes widen, even as a grin spread beyond the limits of what I could see through the slot in his helmet. The Ralyians advanced, their ablative armor polished to a mirror sheen, prepped specifically for my species laz-rifles, Their arms holding the arc casters out away from their short bodies. They fanned out around Astinos but kept their distance. When they opened fire the first shot struck him in the helmet transferring the electrical charge through him, he dropped to a knee behind his shield and again I worried that maybe we should've given him better weapons before the test, but before I could voice my opinions he set his feet and lept into a wild charge! Three leaping steps brought his spear in reach, the momentum of his charge and sliding thrust allowing him to drive the spear through not only the armor but the Ralyian entirely. Rather than releasing the spear, he turned putting the dead body between him and the others. Using the bleeding corpse to absorb several more shots as the Ralyians tried to overwhelm him with more firepower, their usual level of care for their fellows on full display. Astinos made a decision, rather than abandon his spear, he lifted his most recent kill and charged again, in a feat our soldiers might not have been able to match in power armor let alone weighed down with primitive metal. His charge ended skewering a second soldier on the end of his macabre kabob. With two corpses there was too much weight and finally he abandoned his spear, I expected him to draw his sword to deal with the remaining two but the human surprised me again. Their adaptability on full display he drew a combat knife from one Ralyians belt and threw it. His Ralyian target flinched away to protect it's eyes and face, by the time it turned back Astinos was only a couple strides away, already thrusting with his short sword. With only one Ralyian left it kept up a steady stream of electrical fire, it's weapon spitting in timed arcs, trying to keep the dangerous human at a distance. Rather than advance Astinos hunkered down behind the shield, watching with his eyes, true patience on display even under fire. When he did finally stand and yell his battle cry I was shocked to see, it wasn't his sword in hand, but a Ralyian arc caster, it's barrel balanced across his shield the same way he had held the spear. Three shots later and Astinos stood alone in the room.' "Turn off the holo grams, open the window and get a translation patch ready."	The gods had arrived on our lands and we had greeted them with the respect, we considered due. A shining castle of steel had brought them and we had gathered to pay our respect and gift them our sacrifices. The gate opened and we fell to our knees. The light of a hundred fires lighted their path as the gods emerged. Rothgar stood up to great them and they recoiled. One of them pointed a stick at Rothgar and fire struck him down. We could not understand their language, but we did recognize a glint of fear in their eyes. These creatures were no gods, or at least not ours. Be they beasts, allies of the ice giants, trolls or even foreign gods, they feared us and that was all we needed to know. Many great warriors ascended to the eternal feast in Valhalla on that glorious day. The foreigners weapons were powerful and could kill from afar, but once we got close, they were no match for swords and axes. The strangers bled and died like mere men do. We sent them to meet their own gods and to tell them to fear the children of the one-eyed god.
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	Part 1 I evaluated the Human for around 20 digits. It was interesting, his most obvious vital areas near the torso were covered in a primitive alloy of copper, tin and traces of iron. Worked to mirror the thick cords of muscles below it's epidermis there was an obvious warrior ascetic to the plate. Though strangely many vulnerable areas, the neck and legs with large arteries, it's eyes and feet, were not covered. Though the helmet would probably offer some minor protection to the senses and brain. Arrayed in a second stasis pod were the creatures weapons. Made wood and the same primitive alloy there were two weapons, a spear and short sword, and a large elliptical shield painted with decorative chevrons. "You said this was the greatest soldier you could find?" "Yessir. He has a fearsome reputation, our quantums were able to detect thoughts referencing him almost half the planet away without any electronics in evidence on the planet at all. Let alone QuantiCom tech. The being is named Astinos." "Very well, if you think this could lead to an advantage lower both pods into the sim chamber and load the holo." "Yes sir," I turned to walk to the observation chamber as my assistant worked the controls to set up a suitable test. The fields inside the holo chamber shimmered, taking on a facsimile of a field near his home, a half dozen enemies common to him spawned in as a baseline. Then the stasis pods were deactivated. He awoke slowly, then sprang into action quicker than any of our soldiers would've been able to shake of the stasis sickness. The grizzled commander, if shaken by his surroundings, was drawn into a razor focus upon spotting the enemies, naked blades shining in hand. Glancing motions of his head allowed him to spot his weapons and quickly dart over. I realized the function of his exposed neck then. He was able to look over his shoulder despite the narrowing of his vision because of his helmet. In power armor our soldiers could barely scan a 45 degree cone, it slowed them down. Astinos dove towards the second pod and ripped the shield down first, Setting it on edge and crouching allowed him to work the straps and set it properly on his arm and shoulder, while watching the enemies the entire time. One enemy drew a primitive projectile weapon and fired pointed objects from its string, but they glanced of the metal covered shield. As the first sword wielding enemy advanced to within reach I turned towards my assistant. "Should we not have allowed him to retrieve his weapons first?" "No, look at the readouts. This species has a gland capable of producing a compound similar to combat drugs used by half a dozen races around the galaxy. It is triggered by stress, this situation ensures as much of the compound is released as possible." I turned back and realized I needn't have worried. The experienced warrior we'd selected waited until the last second, his enemy circling away from the shield tried to strike over it at Astinos' neck. That's when i realized the ruse, Astinos moved forward at an angle and caught the descending arm with his free hand, Then surprised me, using the edge of his shield to break the arm while simultaneously retrieving his enemies sword. A swift cut & kick not only dispatched that enemy but also cleared the area around his feet. "He plans ahead well for being on combat drugs," "So far as our observations rendered there would be no negative cognitive effect, quite the opposite in fact. Their solders are impressive." "They are very impressive against their own, i assume he is a professional soldier for his nation?" i inquired as we watched Astinos foil a flanking maneuver and dispatch two more soldiers all while keeping his shield between himself and the bowman. "No," my assistant responded. After seeing the look on my face she continued into an explination, "This man, is a soldier and commanded a force of 10,000 mercenaries and led them home after the campaign they participated in failed. But he is also a historian and philosopher, recording his own experiences into print." "Well then, we've seen him against his enemies, test him against ours." "Yessir," The holo field shimmered, the grass and sky disappeared as well as the enemies that had been dispatched, I saw the first look of actual fear cross his eyes, he retreated to the stasis pods, and retrieved his own weapons. Placing his back against the pod he scanned the edges of the room. As the first Ralyians spawned in I could see his eyes widen, even as a grin spread beyond the limits of what I could see through the slot in his helmet. The Ralyians advanced, their ablative armor polished to a mirror sheen, prepped specifically for my species laz-rifles, Their arms holding the arc casters out away from their short bodies. They fanned out around Astinos but kept their distance. When they opened fire the first shot struck him in the helmet transferring the electrical charge through him, he dropped to a knee behind his shield and again I worried that maybe we should've given him better weapons before the test, but before I could voice my opinions he set his feet and lept into a wild charge! Three leaping steps brought his spear in reach, the momentum of his charge and sliding thrust allowing him to drive the spear through not only the armor but the Ralyian entirely. Rather than releasing the spear, he turned putting the dead body between him and the others. Using the bleeding corpse to absorb several more shots as the Ralyians tried to overwhelm him with more firepower, their usual level of care for their fellows on full display. Astinos made a decision, rather than abandon his spear, he lifted his most recent kill and charged again, in a feat our soldiers might not have been able to match in power armor let alone weighed down with primitive metal. His charge ended skewering a second soldier on the end of his macabre kabob. With two corpses there was too much weight and finally he abandoned his spear, I expected him to draw his sword to deal with the remaining two but the human surprised me again. Their adaptability on full display he drew a combat knife from one Ralyians belt and threw it. His Ralyian target flinched away to protect it's eyes and face, by the time it turned back Astinos was only a couple strides away, already thrusting with his short sword. With only one Ralyian left it kept up a steady stream of electrical fire, it's weapon spitting in timed arcs, trying to keep the dangerous human at a distance. Rather than advance Astinos hunkered down behind the shield, watching with his eyes, true patience on display even under fire. When he did finally stand and yell his battle cry I was shocked to see, it wasn't his sword in hand, but a Ralyian arc caster, it's barrel balanced across his shield the same way he had held the spear. Three shots later and Astinos stood alone in the room.' "Turn off the holo grams, open the window and get a translation patch ready."	Sounds of boots hitting the dirt were unheard as the troops made landing behind the enemy lines and as each soldier touched down they went to their position to provide security to their other 16 members. Each outfitted in black in the dead of night made sure they were hidden, even to each other until they got their equipment going. In a crawling speed they made their way to their target and split into teams of 8 then each team broke into a group of 6 and a the other two digging in knowing their roles as scout snipers providing much needed cover for their next events. From the enemies eyes, they couldn't see a thing on the exterior of their perimeter, and their radar picked up nothing large enough to effect them as they had defenses in place to stop artillery, they were secure. Team A lead by Slick approached the east side of the complex in a concentrated arrow formation keeping tight and moving slowly. Slick knew that these things wore stronger armour but could still only withstand so much, and underestimated their abilities... that's why they had the snipers. As they approached they racked their silent weapons specially designed to hide flash and stay light. They had 4 of those things patrolling much closer than they should have in what looked like to be a conversation. Slick clicked the comm on the side of his rifle twice and waited for the scout snipers to pick their shots as that signaled a go. He hoped at that moment, the loudest thing here would be their bodies hitting the floor. With a loud swoosh of air they heard two flesh biting bullets drop two of the enemies leaving 2 completely surprised and fumbling for their weapons but before they could Slick and 3 other members put 3 bullets into each. At that moment the loudest things were the bodies hitting the floor. Click Click. Unlike Team A, Dennis or Snake leading his squad with two snipers in the back. "Shit, Slick already started on the east lets hurry" said Snake and They approached the complex from the west much faster than they should have going from diamond to run and cover tactics, each providing cover as one moved up until they were almost too close for comfort. They had 6 enemies there, 4 patrolling and two posted. Apparently this was a side entrance that they weren't aware, most likely because it was home-made. It was about 5 minutes since Slick ran his clicks so they got on with it, Snake clicked three times and his snipers dug in let loose 4 shots dropping the two posted but missing the other two marks. Before they could let loose a 3rd barrage 6 men in black popped up behind the enemies and grabbed them by their throats and brought them down ward andwith a knife gripped facing downwards plunged it into them spilling their thick velvet blood oozing from them. The Chief sat, utterly baffled at what he was watching. He was watching his soldiers die by the hands of some humans using nothing but led and blades to bring down his men which wore the most advanced equipment. He slammed the device off and up from the table he sat at enraged by the site. How did they not see them? We lost this outpost and the land up to it because of 16 humans, with no technical advantage, or any advantage at all. He turned on his consultant enraged, "Tell me, how do they... keep doing this? They besieged our fortress with no problem even lacking the equipment to do so? None of this makes sense! Is there no home advantage?!" His consultant replied chilling words to the Chieftan, "We are at the disadvantage here at all times sir, everything we touch on this planet is their home. Their tactics out do ours by far, we have never seen such things, and our weapons do more yes but what good are they if we can't even return fire because once we get hit they are nowhere to be found. They are willing to die for their planet sir, are you?" The Chieftain took a seat, and pondered his next words, even his next actions. He slowly nodded his head and said. "Our losses have tripled theirs with no sufficient gain in territory. Pull our men out, we are done, they can have their damn planet."
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	-----transmission recieved---- they dug holes in the dirt. And sat in them. And fought there, until they died. They killed a few warriors each, but it was of not matter to the brood mother, she could always make more. It didn't take long, only 4 cycles and the planet was theirs, but the humans persisted. they were beaten. Crushed. They had nothing left to fight with. Our warriors were stronger, faster, and more coordinated than any human could be. But still they persisted. Their groups were becoming smaller, more ragtag, more isolated, but they fought on. It wasn't until too late we realized what they were fighting for. The few groups of humans that got past us were just killing Hive Queens, or so we thought. But it was much more sinister. For they killed the right Hive queens. They left holes in our defenses that we never even noticed. Because who cares about an old human building that says NATO? The holes were finally placed just right, and the humans struck. T he ground rumbled. Doors in the ground, and abandoned building thought full of grain cracked open, and primitive rockets shot into the air. The Queen mother though nothing of this really. The rockets had no usable material inside. Just Uranium, or Plutonium. A few even seemed to just contain hydrogen. How wrong we were to not care. 2 hours later, the planet the unlivable. The explosions that rocked the planet, each one targeted to a hive queen, were just the beginning. The explosions created a disease. The new offspring, though growth accelerated to replace the losses, were coming out wrong. The planet cooled as the smoke and dust filled the atmosphere. Then the humans came back. Boiling out of the ground, but this time not in their pink skin. Now they had exoskeletons. A shiny white cloth. The human losses this time were just as bad as in the first invasion, but this time we could not replace the lost warriors. The few remaining Hive queen's young would not grow. Some were born dead, some with extra limbs, but most simply stopped growing after a few hours. In a mere week, the work of cycles was undone. There were no more Hive queens left alive on the planet. Our warriors wandered aimlessly, undirected, and slowly died to both human hunting parties and what remained of the local wildlife. But the humans weren't done. From their smoldering wreck of a world, new ships went out into space. The first were unmanned. The next carried them to their smaller planet sharing their orbit. The next to their asteroid belt. Then the humans spread over their solar system, mining and preparing. And then it happened again. The first time it was was merely a few thousand missiles. This time it was more. Hundreds of millions of missiles. Launched from their solar system, and headed for every world inhabited by our kind This message is a warning to the galaxy. Stay away from the humans. They will not give up. They will not surrender. And they will make you pay. -----end transmission----- "this transmission was received less than hour ago, sir" The lad looked young enough he might have been born on the ship. "It was picked up by one of the probes sent to confirm mission success" An old man, sitting in his chair smiled. "It's done then?" "Yes, Sir." the lad replied. "As far as we're aware, the bugs are extinct." The old man laughed softly. "That's what they thought about us, son. Never let your guard down." He stood, his cane thumping against the deck. "Now lets get down to the rec rooms. There'll be a party." As the ship sailed through the stars, the sounds of festivities carried through the hull to a small larvae. Curled up in an air duct. Waiting for the scent of a fresh atmosphere that would start it's metamorphosis into a new Hive Queen... One that would remember the humans. And would make them pay.	Galactic Cycle 807, Battle Log War of Sol-3, Conflict Omega transmission start "..Hello? Is this thing on? If you're hearing this, we didn't make i-" Explosions are heard off in the distance, the source is unknown "Oh Hive Mother, what have we done? Why, of all the species in this horrid universe, did we stumble upon the most vicious of them all?" The sound of metal slamming against metal is heard, presumably a door or gateway near the transmission source being opened "Oh good, Lieutenant. Have evacuation procedures begun as planned?" "Um... no sir. There's an issue with the evacuation ships." "An issue?" "Yes sir, well, I mean, they kinda, aren't there." "The ships are... gone. Do you mean to tell me, that the last hope for our army's survival, not to mention the most heavily researched and tested pieces of equipment that we have, are simply... gone?" "Yes sir. They're gone. We do know where they went, however." "You mean that there's a chance at recovering them?" "Well, see, that's sort of the problem. The, err, the Humans have them, sir." Transmission goes silent for a period of time, unknown if natural or other error The recoil of an energy rifle can be heard "Sergeant, you're in charge now, clean up this mess and gather up all remaining troops. Main base, we make our last stand tonight. Who knew that a bunch of hairless apes could be so ruthless, and all for some of our Reproduction Practice Robots...." transmission end ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Wrote this very quickly without too much planning, first thing I've ever posted here. I hope to eventually get to the point where I can write beautiful pieces like some of the people here, but for now I'll keep grinding it out and see what works. The dialogue feels unnatural as that's still something I'm not particularly good at, but I wanted to give something like this a go. I'll probably make changes to it as I receive feedback, simply to have a more enjoyable piece of writing.
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	Entry log: date:755/5489/59/486 LogStart “Today a new inhabited planet was discovered in the 61st supper cluster. Little is currently known about them and we are on a path to there system to study them closer and add them to my database of life in the universe.” LogEnd; Entry log: date:755/5499/62/815 LogStart “I have arrived at the new planet’s system and taken basic readings of the planet and its systems. The planet of interest is the third from its sun out of 10 in total. The first two planets are uninteresting rocks, the third is the one with life, the next four are unimpressive gas planets with the last two being twin rock plants. The system also contains two equally unimpressive belt systems one after the fourth planet and the second just after the 9th and 10th planet. The planet with life will as usually be shortened to PWF to save data space. This PWF appears to have many moons. All are made of rocks, one is a large cratered moon with a class 2 orbit. Oddly enough the rest of the moons are incredibly small with a class 1 orbit emitting a strange energy pattern suggesting intelligent life. As for the planet its surface is comprised of 70% water and 30% rock. Upon scanning for life we found that this planet is teaming with it. The entire surface appears to covered in hundreds of different creatures, more then ever seen in the observed universe. We will not know more until we send orbit probes but I think this will be a most interesting study.” LogEnd; Entry log: date:755/5499/62/816 LogStart “The probes have been set up by now and the results are even more baffling then expected. Upon fist arriving in there class 3 orbit we notices that the class 1 orbit moons were not moons at all but instead primitive orbit probes. How curious to have orbit probes around your own planet, what do they expect to learn? As for the possibly intelligent beings that made these orbit probes we think we have found them. A race of small bipedal creatures of which there are upwards of 7 billion on this planet. They appear to act in a loose hive mind like manner making up colonies. By our best estimate this single planet contains over 100 colonies varying in many sizes. We have also picked up peculiar energy transitions happening all over the planet seemingly to be a way of long distance communication between these creatures using there primitive machines. But even though we can see the wave lengths of the transmissions they sent we have no clue what any of it means so far. We have decided to try to decode there messages before attempting landing crews to obtain physical specimens for tests.” LogEnd; Entry log: date:755/5499/62/933 LogStart “We have started decoding there messages successfully. We ran into the usual brief problem of the language barrier which is only made harder here by the fact that each colony seems to have there own unique language. It is a odd trait as we have yet to figure out any survival benefit of many languages over a single one. However we have noticed that there seems to be 3 universal languages each labeled as: ‘English’, ‘Mandarin’, and ‘Memes’. The first one seems the most logical choice to crack as it is used over a greater percentage of the planet than the second one. And the last one is giving our translators many errors. Once we gain enough information we will know were land.” LogEnd; Error: 22 Logs missing; Cause: Unknown; Systems Check: Damage: Critical; Error: 456 Files missing; Entry log: date:756/8294/32/4862 LogStart “We should never have come here. These ‘Humans’ as they call themselves were much tougher then expected. Despite there primitive technology they had a few advantages we were not excepting. 1. Each colony not only has armed forces but in times of need any member of the colony can become part of there armed forces giving massive armies that would outnumber ours. 2. There individuality and hive mindedness. We thought each colony was a hive mind but we were wrong. Each individual has a fully functioning mind allowing them to be smarter then expected. 3. The ability for the entire species to band together against us despite there previous difference. 4. The incredible adaptability they display. Well our first landings were successful after a few losses they started using our own tech against us. Not long later they were using highly effective tactics against us and drove us off world before two long. But just when we though we were safe up in orbit they launched a projectile that used a flash of energy to tear some of our ships apart. We lost a lot of information in that attack. But by then our translator teams had cracked many files and we learned that they are among the most adduced species we have seen and only attacked us out of fear. Realizing our mistakes we have made contact with them and our trying to work things out. Since we did not want war only information and these humans seem to love that as well were are sure we can work things out. We hope.” LogEnd;	Galactic Cycle 807, Battle Log War of Sol-3, Conflict Omega transmission start "..Hello? Is this thing on? If you're hearing this, we didn't make i-" Explosions are heard off in the distance, the source is unknown "Oh Hive Mother, what have we done? Why, of all the species in this horrid universe, did we stumble upon the most vicious of them all?" The sound of metal slamming against metal is heard, presumably a door or gateway near the transmission source being opened "Oh good, Lieutenant. Have evacuation procedures begun as planned?" "Um... no sir. There's an issue with the evacuation ships." "An issue?" "Yes sir, well, I mean, they kinda, aren't there." "The ships are... gone. Do you mean to tell me, that the last hope for our army's survival, not to mention the most heavily researched and tested pieces of equipment that we have, are simply... gone?" "Yes sir. They're gone. We do know where they went, however." "You mean that there's a chance at recovering them?" "Well, see, that's sort of the problem. The, err, the Humans have them, sir." Transmission goes silent for a period of time, unknown if natural or other error The recoil of an energy rifle can be heard "Sergeant, you're in charge now, clean up this mess and gather up all remaining troops. Main base, we make our last stand tonight. Who knew that a bunch of hairless apes could be so ruthless, and all for some of our Reproduction Practice Robots...." transmission end ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Wrote this very quickly without too much planning, first thing I've ever posted here. I hope to eventually get to the point where I can write beautiful pieces like some of the people here, but for now I'll keep grinding it out and see what works. The dialogue feels unnatural as that's still something I'm not particularly good at, but I wanted to give something like this a go. I'll probably make changes to it as I receive feedback, simply to have a more enjoyable piece of writing.
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	Part 1: "Your Excellency, it is my shame to inform you that their is no way to conquer the planet known as "Earth". Shissh'mata hissed through clenched teeth. The great vaults of the Grand Hall of the Emperor's Palace looming around him, high bleachers and balconies filled with distinguished guests - administrators, royals, scholars, generals, the rich, the famous - and everywhere - the holocams of the press. The Emperor, Oke'Taman'Tutana, the oldest, greatest, and strongest of the Lillshta, of the greatest Empire the Galaxy had known in many hundreds of thousands of cycles, sat coiled on his thrown, and scowled. "High Commander," The Emperor hissed back, his words echoing down the hall for a kek'tyar. His visage beamed to screens and holo-emitters far down the hall for those who's money or position could not buy them a closer seat. "Are you proclaiming to fail in conquering this planet?" "Your Excellency, I do not presume to understand all that can be known in the Universe, nor can I boast to knowing even a fraction of anything that can be...but I know through fire, slaughter, darkness and death - that the 'Huuhmanns" of "Earth" must never be allowed to leave their star system. They must never be allowed to travel the void of OUR galaxy. " Shissh paused, the words he was speaking were heresy, blasphemy, an admittance of fear. The Emperor said nothing, merely signaling for one of his slaves to bring him a platter of delicacies, then waved a tail with subtle-bodytones of boredom and impatience for Shissh to continue. Instead of continuing, Shissh took a moment to look around at the Hall, somber, almost bored faces, lax bodies, and even jeers from his peers greeted him. A hundred other commanders, of glorious conquests ready for his fall and for the Emperor to slice his forces into pieces as gifts for his rivals. But still, he had to tell them. He turned his body back around to face the leader of all he had known his entire life, all his mother and father had known, and their parents before going back a half-dozen generations. "The dominate species of Earth, these Huuhmanns are not like us your Excellency. They are primitive technologically, primitive economically, primitive biologically, and primitive theologically. They pray to idols, images, and imaginative gods. They wound easily and do not regenerate full body parts, they reproduce slowly, and their offspring are vulnerable. They use tokens to represent wealth - these objects are made of common materials, and have little physical value - but somehow represent wealth despite being mass-produced. Their technology was barely space-faring, simple kinetic energy weapons, craft that fly through the air through simple physics and brute force." "Yes, yes," the Emperor interrupted, "this information is all very boring, and known to ALL of us already. But you did not answer my question!" The Emperor loomed forward from his throne. "And what what do you mean, WAS!?" The Emperor hissed down at him from the throne, his tails writhing in mild agitation. "Was, because we advanced them. At first our conquest was assured, legion after legion of their warriors fell, their citizens in disarray, their leadership flawed, fractured and inadequate to deal commands to their forces. We struck their cities, their fields, their primitive space ports. We herded them, and hounded them. We lost a few to their hundreds. Thousands to their tens of thousands. Tens of thousands to their ....tens of thousands. Then we lost thousands to their tens, and then hundreds to their ones." Again, Shissh paused, this time waiting for the questions. "What do you mean, we were beating them thousands to one? And now we are losing thousands to their one?" "No, your Excellency. We aren't losing. We lost. My forces however mighty they had been - the Conquest of Kamigawa, and Tolgath. Of Ulgrotha, and Dominaria. Of the Phyrexians and the Kor..." "Have prepared us little for the Huuhmanns." Silence, and muffled chortles. The benches and the galleries of the hall teemed with motions of pleasure and mirth. Shissh knew how they much felt, he might have felt the same - had he been sitting along the side, looking down at a High Commander who came before the Emperor, the highest might of the Galaxy in dozens of generations, and proclaimed a conquest to be a failure - and in such a way as to proclaim that the denizens of a world to such primitives.... Off to the side of the Emperor, one of the advisers, waggled a tail for permission to speak, the Emperor granted it with a similar wave of his tail, and reclined into his throne. "Shissh'mata," the adviser began, as he rose out of his couch and slowly slithered forward to the center of the hall, Shissh knew that he would soon be encircled by the adviser - the adviser would circle around him, questioning him, faulting him, ridiculing him. "By what madness can you explain that your Fourth Legion, one of the mightiest of the Emperor's glorious forces, could be defeated by the undeveloped, unsophisticated, unenlightened forces that you faced. Do you not command hundreds of millions of warriors, thousands of ships?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And do you not have intelligence about your enemy before you fought them?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And did you not gain more intelligence about them as you fought them?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And you failed in your conquest of a backwater world, devoid of significant technological development. Devoid of unity among it's populace." "That is correct, lord Adviser. The conque....," "YOUR CONQUEST!" "My conquest, was a failure." "You are aware of the cost of failure High Commander?" "Yes, lord Adviser. I shall be executed, my family shall be exiled from their homes, and my honor removed from the records." "Yet, you come back to us, living, in dishonor, instead of completing your conquest, or die trying?" "Yes." "Yes, LORD ADVISER." "Yes, lord adviser. I came back to warn The Emperor. To warn my rivals. To warn my sons, and my daughters. To warn the entirety of our people and all we command." "Against what? A potential conquest that has risen slightly above itself? If they are so dangerous, why did you not bombard them from orbit? Crash their moon into their planet? Poison their air and their seas?" "Lord Adviser, your Excellency. I would not have been able to do any of that. Because by the time I realized it, my own generals, my intelligence officers - anyone that I commanded...the Huuhmanns had already beaten us, and prevented us from striking doom down upon them utterly." The adviser was about to speak again, when his Excellency hissed out a question. "Explain, High Commander how the primitives you faced could prevent you from destroying them?" "Your Excellency. Every technology we possess, is now theirs. Unlike the other races we have conquered going back generation, after generation, after generation," Shissh shivered in fear, not for were he was - but the reasons for how he was there, "the humans do not understand how to fail. They continue on a path that may seem like absolute madness until they arrive - however long it takes - on a branch of that path that leads them to their goal." "Our first flier shot down, the first plasma rifle captured, the first anti-gravity propelled fortress to fall burning to their earth - with recoverable wreckage somewhere inside of it...." Shissh paused again, breathed in and out and continued, "was torn apart by their scientists and technicians." "Then it was copied. Inefficiently at first. None of the other races we have encountered could do as the huumanns have done. At least, not as quickly. Then the next iteration of their copying was better, and the one after that superior, and then equal, then beyond ours." The Emperor gave a slight nod to the adviser, who did not resume his circling, but stood off to the side slightly in front of Shissh. "High Commander, are you telling us that they not only copied our technologies, but made it somehow better?" "Yes." "But surely, even with that - our warriors would still be superior. Our regenerative powers, our strength, our stamina." "Worthless." "What!?" "Worthless against a foe that does not give up, that does not surrender, that does not cower in fear before technological superiority or numbers. We awoke a sleeping taatjue beast in this Earth and its Huumanns."	Galactic Cycle 807, Battle Log War of Sol-3, Conflict Omega transmission start "..Hello? Is this thing on? If you're hearing this, we didn't make i-" Explosions are heard off in the distance, the source is unknown "Oh Hive Mother, what have we done? Why, of all the species in this horrid universe, did we stumble upon the most vicious of them all?" The sound of metal slamming against metal is heard, presumably a door or gateway near the transmission source being opened "Oh good, Lieutenant. Have evacuation procedures begun as planned?" "Um... no sir. There's an issue with the evacuation ships." "An issue?" "Yes sir, well, I mean, they kinda, aren't there." "The ships are... gone. Do you mean to tell me, that the last hope for our army's survival, not to mention the most heavily researched and tested pieces of equipment that we have, are simply... gone?" "Yes sir. They're gone. We do know where they went, however." "You mean that there's a chance at recovering them?" "Well, see, that's sort of the problem. The, err, the Humans have them, sir." Transmission goes silent for a period of time, unknown if natural or other error The recoil of an energy rifle can be heard "Sergeant, you're in charge now, clean up this mess and gather up all remaining troops. Main base, we make our last stand tonight. Who knew that a bunch of hairless apes could be so ruthless, and all for some of our Reproduction Practice Robots...." transmission end ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Wrote this very quickly without too much planning, first thing I've ever posted here. I hope to eventually get to the point where I can write beautiful pieces like some of the people here, but for now I'll keep grinding it out and see what works. The dialogue feels unnatural as that's still something I'm not particularly good at, but I wanted to give something like this a go. I'll probably make changes to it as I receive feedback, simply to have a more enjoyable piece of writing.
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	Entry log: date:755/5489/59/486 LogStart “Today a new inhabited planet was discovered in the 61st supper cluster. Little is currently known about them and we are on a path to there system to study them closer and add them to my database of life in the universe.” LogEnd; Entry log: date:755/5499/62/815 LogStart “I have arrived at the new planet’s system and taken basic readings of the planet and its systems. The planet of interest is the third from its sun out of 10 in total. The first two planets are uninteresting rocks, the third is the one with life, the next four are unimpressive gas planets with the last two being twin rock plants. The system also contains two equally unimpressive belt systems one after the fourth planet and the second just after the 9th and 10th planet. The planet with life will as usually be shortened to PWF to save data space. This PWF appears to have many moons. All are made of rocks, one is a large cratered moon with a class 2 orbit. Oddly enough the rest of the moons are incredibly small with a class 1 orbit emitting a strange energy pattern suggesting intelligent life. As for the planet its surface is comprised of 70% water and 30% rock. Upon scanning for life we found that this planet is teaming with it. The entire surface appears to covered in hundreds of different creatures, more then ever seen in the observed universe. We will not know more until we send orbit probes but I think this will be a most interesting study.” LogEnd; Entry log: date:755/5499/62/816 LogStart “The probes have been set up by now and the results are even more baffling then expected. Upon fist arriving in there class 3 orbit we notices that the class 1 orbit moons were not moons at all but instead primitive orbit probes. How curious to have orbit probes around your own planet, what do they expect to learn? As for the possibly intelligent beings that made these orbit probes we think we have found them. A race of small bipedal creatures of which there are upwards of 7 billion on this planet. They appear to act in a loose hive mind like manner making up colonies. By our best estimate this single planet contains over 100 colonies varying in many sizes. We have also picked up peculiar energy transitions happening all over the planet seemingly to be a way of long distance communication between these creatures using there primitive machines. But even though we can see the wave lengths of the transmissions they sent we have no clue what any of it means so far. We have decided to try to decode there messages before attempting landing crews to obtain physical specimens for tests.” LogEnd; Entry log: date:755/5499/62/933 LogStart “We have started decoding there messages successfully. We ran into the usual brief problem of the language barrier which is only made harder here by the fact that each colony seems to have there own unique language. It is a odd trait as we have yet to figure out any survival benefit of many languages over a single one. However we have noticed that there seems to be 3 universal languages each labeled as: ‘English’, ‘Mandarin’, and ‘Memes’. The first one seems the most logical choice to crack as it is used over a greater percentage of the planet than the second one. And the last one is giving our translators many errors. Once we gain enough information we will know were land.” LogEnd; Error: 22 Logs missing; Cause: Unknown; Systems Check: Damage: Critical; Error: 456 Files missing; Entry log: date:756/8294/32/4862 LogStart “We should never have come here. These ‘Humans’ as they call themselves were much tougher then expected. Despite there primitive technology they had a few advantages we were not excepting. 1. Each colony not only has armed forces but in times of need any member of the colony can become part of there armed forces giving massive armies that would outnumber ours. 2. There individuality and hive mindedness. We thought each colony was a hive mind but we were wrong. Each individual has a fully functioning mind allowing them to be smarter then expected. 3. The ability for the entire species to band together against us despite there previous difference. 4. The incredible adaptability they display. Well our first landings were successful after a few losses they started using our own tech against us. Not long later they were using highly effective tactics against us and drove us off world before two long. But just when we though we were safe up in orbit they launched a projectile that used a flash of energy to tear some of our ships apart. We lost a lot of information in that attack. But by then our translator teams had cracked many files and we learned that they are among the most adduced species we have seen and only attacked us out of fear. Realizing our mistakes we have made contact with them and our trying to work things out. Since we did not want war only information and these humans seem to love that as well were are sure we can work things out. We hope.” LogEnd;	-- Archaeological Records office, document A090BE4C10 -- -- Record details conversation between two Xands, named Yikah and Vateth according to other records, at a bar inside of a Xandorian military camp regarding human resilience in the War of 2492-- -- Following record was transcribed from audio into Xandorian and translated into English on 4/8/2521 ET-- "Humans. What a disturbance in the back thigh. We have sent at least a dozen ships with [ununpentium 4-] cannons, yet every ship has been taken out by the pests managing to use simple mass projectiles against us." Yikah said in angry tone, followed by a loud sipping and subsequent gaseous noise. "Yes. They truly are frustrating. Though, I must admire their courage. Knocking on the second battalions battleship door with a wooden butted rife and yelling about 'the darn feds', I would have never imagined one would have the skill to quickly take out an entire squad like that." Vateth's voice seemed somber remembering her fallen sisters. "That was a tragic day. The day of blood oceans was far worse though. I still can not fathom how such simple minded creatures managed to take us down. Even worse none of them were more than [5 foot] in height, and they seemed to be playing archaic physical ball games in wasted fertile space when we landed. How small human males could run so fast and be so plotting is out of my mental capacity." Yikah said, then made a loud, pained gaseous noise, which was echoed by Vateth. -- Audio from the next few minutes is heavily distorted by loud electronic music from the bar, any snippets heard of unknown speaker-- "...and let us not forget the time we landed near the building maked V.F.W. they..." "...that time we landed in City Of Angles and a crowd of humans wearing smiling faces with bones underneath rendered our craft completely immobile... " "Friends, Friends, we can not forget the day we arrived in SanDiago and were overwheled with so much noise from humans brandishing non-fuctional weapons and strange attire that we could not even leave the ship!" -- All following audio is indecipherable until the end of recording --
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	"I will not engage the humans." Fleez said, emboldened in the barracks that his mercenary company had been provided by the Stachians. "I will lead you in work efforts to gather materials and other resources, but the moment a human shows itself, we are done. Is that clear?" Hmorn, the Chuana, sneered at the perceived weakness of his current employer. As a powerfully muscled and heavily armored reptiloid, he had little to fear from most galactic sentients. "They're only a centimeter or two bigger than most of us, and give up several kilos to us. Besides, only the most frail of us have anything to fear from their ballistics." Onhje, the oldest among them, and Fleez's trusted third phalange, spoke up. "You young mercs are lacking in education. Humans are primates. Apes. They descend from running and jumping predators. They're faster, and stronger than any of us. That includes you Hmorn, and that's considering their least physically adept. The Stachians have been orbitally sieging their planet for five seasonal cycles. Remember the primate descendants of Absol Seven?" The name of the planet alone sent shivers down the spines of the mercenaries. It was one of the worst defeats ever handed to one of the ruling Imperial houses, and the Stachians weren't even close in power to one of the great houses. "I was there." Lo'kalla said, emphasizing her words by venting the pressure in her cybernetic arm. "I wish I'd never gone." "Absolomites were more evolutionarily removed than these humans." Fleez continued. "I walked past the infirmary earlier. Stachians with little dents in their armor, but with crushed limbs beneath it. They're claiming that the human's bodies are less sensitive to the disruption weapons on account of their muscle and bone density. They say the biggest humans don't even know they've been shot until a whole squad concentrates fire. So yes. When we see humans, we don't reach for weapons, we just leave." "Or..." Lo'Kalla offered. "We might be going about this all wrong. I've been studying their English language, and we Klom are linguistically gifted too. Why not throw in with the humans? Thirty kilos of enriched Uranium would make us as rich as the House of Czling." Fleez looked at their only female. Klom were sexually dimorphic mammals, and Lo'Kalla was physically well prepared to rear young. Perhaps the humans would find her appealing as well, or at least identifiable enough. "All in favor? I'd rather work with them than get mauled by them." They ayes had it.	-- Archaeological Records office, document A090BE4C10 -- -- Record details conversation between two Xands, named Yikah and Vateth according to other records, at a bar inside of a Xandorian military camp regarding human resilience in the War of 2492-- -- Following record was transcribed from audio into Xandorian and translated into English on 4/8/2521 ET-- "Humans. What a disturbance in the back thigh. We have sent at least a dozen ships with [ununpentium 4-] cannons, yet every ship has been taken out by the pests managing to use simple mass projectiles against us." Yikah said in angry tone, followed by a loud sipping and subsequent gaseous noise. "Yes. They truly are frustrating. Though, I must admire their courage. Knocking on the second battalions battleship door with a wooden butted rife and yelling about 'the darn feds', I would have never imagined one would have the skill to quickly take out an entire squad like that." Vateth's voice seemed somber remembering her fallen sisters. "That was a tragic day. The day of blood oceans was far worse though. I still can not fathom how such simple minded creatures managed to take us down. Even worse none of them were more than [5 foot] in height, and they seemed to be playing archaic physical ball games in wasted fertile space when we landed. How small human males could run so fast and be so plotting is out of my mental capacity." Yikah said, then made a loud, pained gaseous noise, which was echoed by Vateth. -- Audio from the next few minutes is heavily distorted by loud electronic music from the bar, any snippets heard of unknown speaker-- "...and let us not forget the time we landed near the building maked V.F.W. they..." "...that time we landed in City Of Angles and a crowd of humans wearing smiling faces with bones underneath rendered our craft completely immobile... " "Friends, Friends, we can not forget the day we arrived in SanDiago and were overwheled with so much noise from humans brandishing non-fuctional weapons and strange attire that we could not even leave the ship!" -- All following audio is indecipherable until the end of recording --
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	Part 1: "Your Excellency, it is my shame to inform you that their is no way to conquer the planet known as "Earth". Shissh'mata hissed through clenched teeth. The great vaults of the Grand Hall of the Emperor's Palace looming around him, high bleachers and balconies filled with distinguished guests - administrators, royals, scholars, generals, the rich, the famous - and everywhere - the holocams of the press. The Emperor, Oke'Taman'Tutana, the oldest, greatest, and strongest of the Lillshta, of the greatest Empire the Galaxy had known in many hundreds of thousands of cycles, sat coiled on his thrown, and scowled. "High Commander," The Emperor hissed back, his words echoing down the hall for a kek'tyar. His visage beamed to screens and holo-emitters far down the hall for those who's money or position could not buy them a closer seat. "Are you proclaiming to fail in conquering this planet?" "Your Excellency, I do not presume to understand all that can be known in the Universe, nor can I boast to knowing even a fraction of anything that can be...but I know through fire, slaughter, darkness and death - that the 'Huuhmanns" of "Earth" must never be allowed to leave their star system. They must never be allowed to travel the void of OUR galaxy. " Shissh paused, the words he was speaking were heresy, blasphemy, an admittance of fear. The Emperor said nothing, merely signaling for one of his slaves to bring him a platter of delicacies, then waved a tail with subtle-bodytones of boredom and impatience for Shissh to continue. Instead of continuing, Shissh took a moment to look around at the Hall, somber, almost bored faces, lax bodies, and even jeers from his peers greeted him. A hundred other commanders, of glorious conquests ready for his fall and for the Emperor to slice his forces into pieces as gifts for his rivals. But still, he had to tell them. He turned his body back around to face the leader of all he had known his entire life, all his mother and father had known, and their parents before going back a half-dozen generations. "The dominate species of Earth, these Huuhmanns are not like us your Excellency. They are primitive technologically, primitive economically, primitive biologically, and primitive theologically. They pray to idols, images, and imaginative gods. They wound easily and do not regenerate full body parts, they reproduce slowly, and their offspring are vulnerable. They use tokens to represent wealth - these objects are made of common materials, and have little physical value - but somehow represent wealth despite being mass-produced. Their technology was barely space-faring, simple kinetic energy weapons, craft that fly through the air through simple physics and brute force." "Yes, yes," the Emperor interrupted, "this information is all very boring, and known to ALL of us already. But you did not answer my question!" The Emperor loomed forward from his throne. "And what what do you mean, WAS!?" The Emperor hissed down at him from the throne, his tails writhing in mild agitation. "Was, because we advanced them. At first our conquest was assured, legion after legion of their warriors fell, their citizens in disarray, their leadership flawed, fractured and inadequate to deal commands to their forces. We struck their cities, their fields, their primitive space ports. We herded them, and hounded them. We lost a few to their hundreds. Thousands to their tens of thousands. Tens of thousands to their ....tens of thousands. Then we lost thousands to their tens, and then hundreds to their ones." Again, Shissh paused, this time waiting for the questions. "What do you mean, we were beating them thousands to one? And now we are losing thousands to their one?" "No, your Excellency. We aren't losing. We lost. My forces however mighty they had been - the Conquest of Kamigawa, and Tolgath. Of Ulgrotha, and Dominaria. Of the Phyrexians and the Kor..." "Have prepared us little for the Huuhmanns." Silence, and muffled chortles. The benches and the galleries of the hall teemed with motions of pleasure and mirth. Shissh knew how they much felt, he might have felt the same - had he been sitting along the side, looking down at a High Commander who came before the Emperor, the highest might of the Galaxy in dozens of generations, and proclaimed a conquest to be a failure - and in such a way as to proclaim that the denizens of a world to such primitives.... Off to the side of the Emperor, one of the advisers, waggled a tail for permission to speak, the Emperor granted it with a similar wave of his tail, and reclined into his throne. "Shissh'mata," the adviser began, as he rose out of his couch and slowly slithered forward to the center of the hall, Shissh knew that he would soon be encircled by the adviser - the adviser would circle around him, questioning him, faulting him, ridiculing him. "By what madness can you explain that your Fourth Legion, one of the mightiest of the Emperor's glorious forces, could be defeated by the undeveloped, unsophisticated, unenlightened forces that you faced. Do you not command hundreds of millions of warriors, thousands of ships?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And do you not have intelligence about your enemy before you fought them?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And did you not gain more intelligence about them as you fought them?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And you failed in your conquest of a backwater world, devoid of significant technological development. Devoid of unity among it's populace." "That is correct, lord Adviser. The conque....," "YOUR CONQUEST!" "My conquest, was a failure." "You are aware of the cost of failure High Commander?" "Yes, lord Adviser. I shall be executed, my family shall be exiled from their homes, and my honor removed from the records." "Yet, you come back to us, living, in dishonor, instead of completing your conquest, or die trying?" "Yes." "Yes, LORD ADVISER." "Yes, lord adviser. I came back to warn The Emperor. To warn my rivals. To warn my sons, and my daughters. To warn the entirety of our people and all we command." "Against what? A potential conquest that has risen slightly above itself? If they are so dangerous, why did you not bombard them from orbit? Crash their moon into their planet? Poison their air and their seas?" "Lord Adviser, your Excellency. I would not have been able to do any of that. Because by the time I realized it, my own generals, my intelligence officers - anyone that I commanded...the Huuhmanns had already beaten us, and prevented us from striking doom down upon them utterly." The adviser was about to speak again, when his Excellency hissed out a question. "Explain, High Commander how the primitives you faced could prevent you from destroying them?" "Your Excellency. Every technology we possess, is now theirs. Unlike the other races we have conquered going back generation, after generation, after generation," Shissh shivered in fear, not for were he was - but the reasons for how he was there, "the humans do not understand how to fail. They continue on a path that may seem like absolute madness until they arrive - however long it takes - on a branch of that path that leads them to their goal." "Our first flier shot down, the first plasma rifle captured, the first anti-gravity propelled fortress to fall burning to their earth - with recoverable wreckage somewhere inside of it...." Shissh paused again, breathed in and out and continued, "was torn apart by their scientists and technicians." "Then it was copied. Inefficiently at first. None of the other races we have encountered could do as the huumanns have done. At least, not as quickly. Then the next iteration of their copying was better, and the one after that superior, and then equal, then beyond ours." The Emperor gave a slight nod to the adviser, who did not resume his circling, but stood off to the side slightly in front of Shissh. "High Commander, are you telling us that they not only copied our technologies, but made it somehow better?" "Yes." "But surely, even with that - our warriors would still be superior. Our regenerative powers, our strength, our stamina." "Worthless." "What!?" "Worthless against a foe that does not give up, that does not surrender, that does not cower in fear before technological superiority or numbers. We awoke a sleeping taatjue beast in this Earth and its Huumanns."	-- Archaeological Records office, document A090BE4C10 -- -- Record details conversation between two Xands, named Yikah and Vateth according to other records, at a bar inside of a Xandorian military camp regarding human resilience in the War of 2492-- -- Following record was transcribed from audio into Xandorian and translated into English on 4/8/2521 ET-- "Humans. What a disturbance in the back thigh. We have sent at least a dozen ships with [ununpentium 4-] cannons, yet every ship has been taken out by the pests managing to use simple mass projectiles against us." Yikah said in angry tone, followed by a loud sipping and subsequent gaseous noise. "Yes. They truly are frustrating. Though, I must admire their courage. Knocking on the second battalions battleship door with a wooden butted rife and yelling about 'the darn feds', I would have never imagined one would have the skill to quickly take out an entire squad like that." Vateth's voice seemed somber remembering her fallen sisters. "That was a tragic day. The day of blood oceans was far worse though. I still can not fathom how such simple minded creatures managed to take us down. Even worse none of them were more than [5 foot] in height, and they seemed to be playing archaic physical ball games in wasted fertile space when we landed. How small human males could run so fast and be so plotting is out of my mental capacity." Yikah said, then made a loud, pained gaseous noise, which was echoed by Vateth. -- Audio from the next few minutes is heavily distorted by loud electronic music from the bar, any snippets heard of unknown speaker-- "...and let us not forget the time we landed near the building maked V.F.W. they..." "...that time we landed in City Of Angles and a crowd of humans wearing smiling faces with bones underneath rendered our craft completely immobile... " "Friends, Friends, we can not forget the day we arrived in SanDiago and were overwheled with so much noise from humans brandishing non-fuctional weapons and strange attire that we could not even leave the ship!" -- All following audio is indecipherable until the end of recording --
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	(My first attempt, ladies and gentlemen. Let us see how it goes...) The commander of the attack forces showed the images to the leader of the invasion. There were images of humans - strange beings toppling about on two legs, many with a biological polymer fiber growing from the top and front of a sensory pod, attached to the top of their body. Some picked through crashed vehicles, while other, armed humans looked on. The weapons pictured were chemically-propelled slug throwers, with blades attached to the muzzles. “Great Leader, I respectfully advise that we pull out. There's no way that we're going to take slaves and resources from this forsaken planet and it's impossible denizens.” “Commander, you're telling me we need to give up, to leave, beaten back by soft edoskeletal creatures with slug throwers and blades? You cannot force their surrender?” “They don't know how to surrender. Sir. You might beat one of them down, but you can't stop them all. We captured five of them, and tortured them, and broadcast it, in an attempt to get the humans to give up. This only had the effect of making them fight without limit, and to the death. And if you kill one, chances are they will take you with them to the other side. Since our broadcast, our forces have been defeated by humans all too willing to die, so long as they manage to kill a significant number of our fighters in the process. I myself witnessed a human, missing one of it's lower appendages and losing circulatory fluid, fire upon a squad to lure them closer, so he could detonate a chemical explosive device that showered my soldiers with tiny metal balls.” “How is it that my highly trained soldiers, with the best logistical support, and the best energy weapons in the galaxy, are being overrun by fleshy monsters using chemical propellants and metal slugs? They're not smarter than our species.” “They aren't smarter, sir, but they seem to be more mechanically inclined. I've witnessed juvenile humans repairing machinery as complex as anything on this vessel. Their engineers are terrifiying. They figured out chemical propulsion, atomic weapons and aircraft before they had more than the most basic electronics. Many humans can look at a machine, and figure out what it does, even if it's non-functional. It seems to be related to genetics, as some find it more difficult than others, but as a rule if we abandon a damaged weapon, or a vehicle, one of them will find it, and it will be used against us.” “Strike Commander, it seems obvious to me. Destroy something if you can't take it with you.” “Leader, that just does not work. A normal human can do the things I described. An educated human is even more hazardous. They just need to see something work, and they can eventually replicate it. If they just know it is possible, sooner or later they will figure out how to do it. Every weapon, every vehicle, every technology, every advantage we have, can and will be turned against us, by creatures who will NOT stop fighting until they are killed. The idea of taking slaves is madness, even if they cooperate, they are just waiting for a chance. And if they can't fight, they run. You don't want to chase them. We tire long before they do, if I didn't know better I'd assume they used to run animals to death to hunt them long ago in their history. A warning lamp flashes on the console, gaining the Leader's attention. A call from the forward observation deck. “Lookout, Helm, Weapons, what do you see out there?” “Leader, we see rocket plumes. Multiple launches. Too small to carry a human. I'm getting radiation from the rockets. Tracking... they're heading for us. They're primitive, staged rockets, dropping a section and accelrating toward us. We cannot evade all of them. Beam weapons are trained on them, but this is just boiling off their skin without stopping them. Wait... they've almost reached the ship, but detonated before arrival.” “Their warheads failed. It appears they have some learning to do, Strike Commander.” “Great Leader, I suspect you're wrong. We are blinded by the detonations. The humans have undoubtedly captured at least one of our landers. I refuse to believe they won't build another.” The hull of the great vessel rang, as multiple ships landed, and clamped on. Turbines inside the human ships spool up, power supplies are warmed. CO2 lasers start to come online, cutting heads hover above the hull, high pressure nitrogen at the ready. Other human vessels extend a head with an electric arc blowing oxygen. Yet more extend carbide-tipped cutters. “Defense, what is going on? What's on the hull?” “Commander... we have multiple vessels, Some are warming power supplies, some are grinding hardened cutters against the hull. Stand by. I have arc-flashes from some, and I'm getting scattered coherent light from another. Our hull is being burned away! Why did they try so many different things to get through the hull?” “Defenses... it's the way their minds work. They don't know how to get through the hull, they just assume that it's possible. They will try everything. If none of these had worked, they'd keep trying until something did. Great Leader, you see now what I'm talking about. They will not stop. They will not give up. And they're not smart enough to know what's impossible.” EDIT: Formatting are hard.	-- Archaeological Records office, document A090BE4C10 -- -- Record details conversation between two Xands, named Yikah and Vateth according to other records, at a bar inside of a Xandorian military camp regarding human resilience in the War of 2492-- -- Following record was transcribed from audio into Xandorian and translated into English on 4/8/2521 ET-- "Humans. What a disturbance in the back thigh. We have sent at least a dozen ships with [ununpentium 4-] cannons, yet every ship has been taken out by the pests managing to use simple mass projectiles against us." Yikah said in angry tone, followed by a loud sipping and subsequent gaseous noise. "Yes. They truly are frustrating. Though, I must admire their courage. Knocking on the second battalions battleship door with a wooden butted rife and yelling about 'the darn feds', I would have never imagined one would have the skill to quickly take out an entire squad like that." Vateth's voice seemed somber remembering her fallen sisters. "That was a tragic day. The day of blood oceans was far worse though. I still can not fathom how such simple minded creatures managed to take us down. Even worse none of them were more than [5 foot] in height, and they seemed to be playing archaic physical ball games in wasted fertile space when we landed. How small human males could run so fast and be so plotting is out of my mental capacity." Yikah said, then made a loud, pained gaseous noise, which was echoed by Vateth. -- Audio from the next few minutes is heavily distorted by loud electronic music from the bar, any snippets heard of unknown speaker-- "...and let us not forget the time we landed near the building maked V.F.W. they..." "...that time we landed in City Of Angles and a crowd of humans wearing smiling faces with bones underneath rendered our craft completely immobile... " "Friends, Friends, we can not forget the day we arrived in SanDiago and were overwheled with so much noise from humans brandishing non-fuctional weapons and strange attire that we could not even leave the ship!" -- All following audio is indecipherable until the end of recording --
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	The simulated battle ended and the abducted human soldier slumped with fatigue and confusion, looking at the unfamiliar surroundings of the holodeck. "What happened with the sim? Why was the human able to withstand so many waves of enemies?" the Thakdarian commander demanded of his scientists, slamming his second and third forearms onto his desk and scaring several of those clustered around a datapanel, pointing and arguing about the results of the test. "Sir, the results simply don't make sense. Somehow, as his enemies grew more numerous and intelligent, the subject's performance improved. It seemed that the closer he got to exhaustion or danger, his metabolic rate, circulatory, and respiratory levels became elevated," the scientist pointed to each of the relevant points of data in turn, "but his reaction time, motor function, and even his apparent critical thinking speed increased to several times his baseline." "Have we underestimated these bipeds so utterly?" the commander growled, "Their medical technology is centuries behind ours! They don't even use energy weapons! They can't possibly have created a battledrug better than anything our own kind have." The scientists moved as a group, shrinking away from the decorated officer. "Sir, we woke him up in a simulated earth town with only his clothes and weapon. He has not consumed or injected anything on his own and tests of the atmosphere in the holodeck show no chemical compounds that would cause this behavior on inhalation. We also noticed no codewords that would awaken hypnotic training," he said, pointing at the translated audio recording of the subjects colorful language. "We cannot explain this behavior except by speculation." The commander sat back in his chair and looked again at the human, who already seemed to be recovering from the simulation and was starting to explore his surroundings. "By all means, speculate," he said. The Thakdar scientists quietly conferred among themselves, in some cases arguing quietly and each giving his or her own thoughts on what happened. After a few minutes, the commander coughed and several scientists started and turned. A datapad clattered to the floor. "Sir, the human appears to be able to produce a natural drug during times of stress. We can pinpoint when it was released during the sim, starting with the moment he heard the first energy weapon fire in the distance, then each time a new wave of enemies was created." The scientist had changed the main datascreen to a series of graphs showing vital signs during the simulation, and was pointing out moments when the human seemed at once the most stressed and, perplexingly, the most effective. "The last spike was when the simulation ended and the simulated town disappeared, revealing that he was in an unfamiliar place." As the scientist pointed at the end of the simulation, he noticed that the graphs were still recording and the human's vitals were elevated as though he were entering combat again. As one, the Thakdarian research unit looked into the sim chamber only to see the human subject pointing his weapon at the commander and baring his teeth in a mockery of glee. Through the glass, they saw the human's mouth moving. A moment later, the translator spoke. "Take me to your leader." _______________________________________________________ Edit: This is my first attempt at writing here. I hope everyone likes it! I intend to write much more and welcome any comments and criticism, even if it's about poor grammar or sentence structure.	-- Archaeological Records office, document A090BE4C10 -- -- Record details conversation between two Xands, named Yikah and Vateth according to other records, at a bar inside of a Xandorian military camp regarding human resilience in the War of 2492-- -- Following record was transcribed from audio into Xandorian and translated into English on 4/8/2521 ET-- "Humans. What a disturbance in the back thigh. We have sent at least a dozen ships with [ununpentium 4-] cannons, yet every ship has been taken out by the pests managing to use simple mass projectiles against us." Yikah said in angry tone, followed by a loud sipping and subsequent gaseous noise. "Yes. They truly are frustrating. Though, I must admire their courage. Knocking on the second battalions battleship door with a wooden butted rife and yelling about 'the darn feds', I would have never imagined one would have the skill to quickly take out an entire squad like that." Vateth's voice seemed somber remembering her fallen sisters. "That was a tragic day. The day of blood oceans was far worse though. I still can not fathom how such simple minded creatures managed to take us down. Even worse none of them were more than [5 foot] in height, and they seemed to be playing archaic physical ball games in wasted fertile space when we landed. How small human males could run so fast and be so plotting is out of my mental capacity." Yikah said, then made a loud, pained gaseous noise, which was echoed by Vateth. -- Audio from the next few minutes is heavily distorted by loud electronic music from the bar, any snippets heard of unknown speaker-- "...and let us not forget the time we landed near the building maked V.F.W. they..." "...that time we landed in City Of Angles and a crowd of humans wearing smiling faces with bones underneath rendered our craft completely immobile... " "Friends, Friends, we can not forget the day we arrived in SanDiago and were overwheled with so much noise from humans brandishing non-fuctional weapons and strange attire that we could not even leave the ship!" -- All following audio is indecipherable until the end of recording --
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	Part 1: "Your Excellency, it is my shame to inform you that their is no way to conquer the planet known as "Earth". Shissh'mata hissed through clenched teeth. The great vaults of the Grand Hall of the Emperor's Palace looming around him, high bleachers and balconies filled with distinguished guests - administrators, royals, scholars, generals, the rich, the famous - and everywhere - the holocams of the press. The Emperor, Oke'Taman'Tutana, the oldest, greatest, and strongest of the Lillshta, of the greatest Empire the Galaxy had known in many hundreds of thousands of cycles, sat coiled on his thrown, and scowled. "High Commander," The Emperor hissed back, his words echoing down the hall for a kek'tyar. His visage beamed to screens and holo-emitters far down the hall for those who's money or position could not buy them a closer seat. "Are you proclaiming to fail in conquering this planet?" "Your Excellency, I do not presume to understand all that can be known in the Universe, nor can I boast to knowing even a fraction of anything that can be...but I know through fire, slaughter, darkness and death - that the 'Huuhmanns" of "Earth" must never be allowed to leave their star system. They must never be allowed to travel the void of OUR galaxy. " Shissh paused, the words he was speaking were heresy, blasphemy, an admittance of fear. The Emperor said nothing, merely signaling for one of his slaves to bring him a platter of delicacies, then waved a tail with subtle-bodytones of boredom and impatience for Shissh to continue. Instead of continuing, Shissh took a moment to look around at the Hall, somber, almost bored faces, lax bodies, and even jeers from his peers greeted him. A hundred other commanders, of glorious conquests ready for his fall and for the Emperor to slice his forces into pieces as gifts for his rivals. But still, he had to tell them. He turned his body back around to face the leader of all he had known his entire life, all his mother and father had known, and their parents before going back a half-dozen generations. "The dominate species of Earth, these Huuhmanns are not like us your Excellency. They are primitive technologically, primitive economically, primitive biologically, and primitive theologically. They pray to idols, images, and imaginative gods. They wound easily and do not regenerate full body parts, they reproduce slowly, and their offspring are vulnerable. They use tokens to represent wealth - these objects are made of common materials, and have little physical value - but somehow represent wealth despite being mass-produced. Their technology was barely space-faring, simple kinetic energy weapons, craft that fly through the air through simple physics and brute force." "Yes, yes," the Emperor interrupted, "this information is all very boring, and known to ALL of us already. But you did not answer my question!" The Emperor loomed forward from his throne. "And what what do you mean, WAS!?" The Emperor hissed down at him from the throne, his tails writhing in mild agitation. "Was, because we advanced them. At first our conquest was assured, legion after legion of their warriors fell, their citizens in disarray, their leadership flawed, fractured and inadequate to deal commands to their forces. We struck their cities, their fields, their primitive space ports. We herded them, and hounded them. We lost a few to their hundreds. Thousands to their tens of thousands. Tens of thousands to their ....tens of thousands. Then we lost thousands to their tens, and then hundreds to their ones." Again, Shissh paused, this time waiting for the questions. "What do you mean, we were beating them thousands to one? And now we are losing thousands to their one?" "No, your Excellency. We aren't losing. We lost. My forces however mighty they had been - the Conquest of Kamigawa, and Tolgath. Of Ulgrotha, and Dominaria. Of the Phyrexians and the Kor..." "Have prepared us little for the Huuhmanns." Silence, and muffled chortles. The benches and the galleries of the hall teemed with motions of pleasure and mirth. Shissh knew how they much felt, he might have felt the same - had he been sitting along the side, looking down at a High Commander who came before the Emperor, the highest might of the Galaxy in dozens of generations, and proclaimed a conquest to be a failure - and in such a way as to proclaim that the denizens of a world to such primitives.... Off to the side of the Emperor, one of the advisers, waggled a tail for permission to speak, the Emperor granted it with a similar wave of his tail, and reclined into his throne. "Shissh'mata," the adviser began, as he rose out of his couch and slowly slithered forward to the center of the hall, Shissh knew that he would soon be encircled by the adviser - the adviser would circle around him, questioning him, faulting him, ridiculing him. "By what madness can you explain that your Fourth Legion, one of the mightiest of the Emperor's glorious forces, could be defeated by the undeveloped, unsophisticated, unenlightened forces that you faced. Do you not command hundreds of millions of warriors, thousands of ships?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And do you not have intelligence about your enemy before you fought them?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And did you not gain more intelligence about them as you fought them?" "I did, lord Adviser." "And you failed in your conquest of a backwater world, devoid of significant technological development. Devoid of unity among it's populace." "That is correct, lord Adviser. The conque....," "YOUR CONQUEST!" "My conquest, was a failure." "You are aware of the cost of failure High Commander?" "Yes, lord Adviser. I shall be executed, my family shall be exiled from their homes, and my honor removed from the records." "Yet, you come back to us, living, in dishonor, instead of completing your conquest, or die trying?" "Yes." "Yes, LORD ADVISER." "Yes, lord adviser. I came back to warn The Emperor. To warn my rivals. To warn my sons, and my daughters. To warn the entirety of our people and all we command." "Against what? A potential conquest that has risen slightly above itself? If they are so dangerous, why did you not bombard them from orbit? Crash their moon into their planet? Poison their air and their seas?" "Lord Adviser, your Excellency. I would not have been able to do any of that. Because by the time I realized it, my own generals, my intelligence officers - anyone that I commanded...the Huuhmanns had already beaten us, and prevented us from striking doom down upon them utterly." The adviser was about to speak again, when his Excellency hissed out a question. "Explain, High Commander how the primitives you faced could prevent you from destroying them?" "Your Excellency. Every technology we possess, is now theirs. Unlike the other races we have conquered going back generation, after generation, after generation," Shissh shivered in fear, not for were he was - but the reasons for how he was there, "the humans do not understand how to fail. They continue on a path that may seem like absolute madness until they arrive - however long it takes - on a branch of that path that leads them to their goal." "Our first flier shot down, the first plasma rifle captured, the first anti-gravity propelled fortress to fall burning to their earth - with recoverable wreckage somewhere inside of it...." Shissh paused again, breathed in and out and continued, "was torn apart by their scientists and technicians." "Then it was copied. Inefficiently at first. None of the other races we have encountered could do as the huumanns have done. At least, not as quickly. Then the next iteration of their copying was better, and the one after that superior, and then equal, then beyond ours." The Emperor gave a slight nod to the adviser, who did not resume his circling, but stood off to the side slightly in front of Shissh. "High Commander, are you telling us that they not only copied our technologies, but made it somehow better?" "Yes." "But surely, even with that - our warriors would still be superior. Our regenerative powers, our strength, our stamina." "Worthless." "What!?" "Worthless against a foe that does not give up, that does not surrender, that does not cower in fear before technological superiority or numbers. We awoke a sleeping taatjue beast in this Earth and its Huumanns."	"I will not engage the humans." Fleez said, emboldened in the barracks that his mercenary company had been provided by the Stachians. "I will lead you in work efforts to gather materials and other resources, but the moment a human shows itself, we are done. Is that clear?" Hmorn, the Chuana, sneered at the perceived weakness of his current employer. As a powerfully muscled and heavily armored reptiloid, he had little to fear from most galactic sentients. "They're only a centimeter or two bigger than most of us, and give up several kilos to us. Besides, only the most frail of us have anything to fear from their ballistics." Onhje, the oldest among them, and Fleez's trusted third phalange, spoke up. "You young mercs are lacking in education. Humans are primates. Apes. They descend from running and jumping predators. They're faster, and stronger than any of us. That includes you Hmorn, and that's considering their least physically adept. The Stachians have been orbitally sieging their planet for five seasonal cycles. Remember the primate descendants of Absol Seven?" The name of the planet alone sent shivers down the spines of the mercenaries. It was one of the worst defeats ever handed to one of the ruling Imperial houses, and the Stachians weren't even close in power to one of the great houses. "I was there." Lo'kalla said, emphasizing her words by venting the pressure in her cybernetic arm. "I wish I'd never gone." "Absolomites were more evolutionarily removed than these humans." Fleez continued. "I walked past the infirmary earlier. Stachians with little dents in their armor, but with crushed limbs beneath it. They're claiming that the human's bodies are less sensitive to the disruption weapons on account of their muscle and bone density. They say the biggest humans don't even know they've been shot until a whole squad concentrates fire. So yes. When we see humans, we don't reach for weapons, we just leave." "Or..." Lo'Kalla offered. "We might be going about this all wrong. I've been studying their English language, and we Klom are linguistically gifted too. Why not throw in with the humans? Thirty kilos of enriched Uranium would make us as rich as the House of Czling." Fleez looked at their only female. Klom were sexually dimorphic mammals, and Lo'Kalla was physically well prepared to rear young. Perhaps the humans would find her appealing as well, or at least identifiable enough. "All in favor? I'd rather work with them than get mauled by them." They ayes had it.
[WP] The Humans are..interesting. Their weaponry is ancient, but their warriors are nearly unstoppable.	The simulated battle ended and the abducted human soldier slumped with fatigue and confusion, looking at the unfamiliar surroundings of the holodeck. "What happened with the sim? Why was the human able to withstand so many waves of enemies?" the Thakdarian commander demanded of his scientists, slamming his second and third forearms onto his desk and scaring several of those clustered around a datapanel, pointing and arguing about the results of the test. "Sir, the results simply don't make sense. Somehow, as his enemies grew more numerous and intelligent, the subject's performance improved. It seemed that the closer he got to exhaustion or danger, his metabolic rate, circulatory, and respiratory levels became elevated," the scientist pointed to each of the relevant points of data in turn, "but his reaction time, motor function, and even his apparent critical thinking speed increased to several times his baseline." "Have we underestimated these bipeds so utterly?" the commander growled, "Their medical technology is centuries behind ours! They don't even use energy weapons! They can't possibly have created a battledrug better than anything our own kind have." The scientists moved as a group, shrinking away from the decorated officer. "Sir, we woke him up in a simulated earth town with only his clothes and weapon. He has not consumed or injected anything on his own and tests of the atmosphere in the holodeck show no chemical compounds that would cause this behavior on inhalation. We also noticed no codewords that would awaken hypnotic training," he said, pointing at the translated audio recording of the subjects colorful language. "We cannot explain this behavior except by speculation." The commander sat back in his chair and looked again at the human, who already seemed to be recovering from the simulation and was starting to explore his surroundings. "By all means, speculate," he said. The Thakdar scientists quietly conferred among themselves, in some cases arguing quietly and each giving his or her own thoughts on what happened. After a few minutes, the commander coughed and several scientists started and turned. A datapad clattered to the floor. "Sir, the human appears to be able to produce a natural drug during times of stress. We can pinpoint when it was released during the sim, starting with the moment he heard the first energy weapon fire in the distance, then each time a new wave of enemies was created." The scientist had changed the main datascreen to a series of graphs showing vital signs during the simulation, and was pointing out moments when the human seemed at once the most stressed and, perplexingly, the most effective. "The last spike was when the simulation ended and the simulated town disappeared, revealing that he was in an unfamiliar place." As the scientist pointed at the end of the simulation, he noticed that the graphs were still recording and the human's vitals were elevated as though he were entering combat again. As one, the Thakdarian research unit looked into the sim chamber only to see the human subject pointing his weapon at the commander and baring his teeth in a mockery of glee. Through the glass, they saw the human's mouth moving. A moment later, the translator spoke. "Take me to your leader." _______________________________________________________ Edit: This is my first attempt at writing here. I hope everyone likes it! I intend to write much more and welcome any comments and criticism, even if it's about poor grammar or sentence structure.	Fourth-Lead Flek scowled. This was not why he had conscripted into the Porrukh Land Militia. Hairless apes with no natural body armor and almost laughably backwards weaponry. Flek thought back to the holo-briefing from the scout team. The human military was hopelessly disorganized, lacking any kind of discipline or, indeed, coherent leadership. No uniforms. No clear distribution of weaponry. They wandered the streets of the living-centers with as much direction of Valdian Fur Beetles. Sometimes - he had to suppress a chuckle at the memory - their soldiers would even bump into each other, or attempt a flanking maneuver by both moving in the same direction simultaneously. He'd rather be doing a training simulation with the Entrants back home. It would be like killing children. Worse: children can at least have an excuse. This...this would just be sad. The holo had included some preliminary intelligence on combat engagements with the ape people. One had attempted to spray what scientists had insisted was cooking spice into the eyes of a Three-Bar Gunner. Another had improvised a weapon - if you could call it that - from a ring of metal keys stored in its field pack (and a laughably impractical field pack it was, with its single thin strap and tiny carrying space). Two of the largest and - presumably - highest-ranking soldiers had attempted to survive a pod skirmish armed with what were effectively highly-polished sticks. All of them had fallen within moments with a few squeezes of the neurodisruptive aerosol pistol. "Fourth-lead Flek." Flek put his hand to his helmet. "Healthy and attentive, second-lead Munat." "Commence the attack. And..." "Yes, second-lead?" "Try not to be too hard on them." Flek disengaged communication mode on his helmet and chuckled. He looked back at his group and gave the signal. The almost super-sonic squeal of 20 sidearms powering up reached him and he permitted himself a wry smile. He stepped out from their holding position and began the march into the heart of the living-center. May Gurrok the Placid forgive me, he thought. * * * Darkness. But somehow, he was aware of the darkness now, which had not been true before. "Fourth-lead Flek." His thoughts felt like Tirioli Cave-Walkers. But he realized that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Fragments of memories came back to him and, as his brain started operating fully, he jolted back to consciousness. "Fourth-lead Flek. Good. Ah..." Questions tumbled into Flek's brain. Why was a healing technician standing over him? Where was his cluster? What had happened? "Fourth-lead, it's best if you not move. No, please...many of the processes taking place are very delicate and it could disrupt them, especially for the lower extremity." Flek blinked. He had not noticed that he was only receiving sensory and proprioceptive feedback from the limbs on the left side of his body. "Ah...fourth-lead. I'm afraid First-Lead Ohn wants a report as soon as --" Flek gave a nod and spirals of pain swarmed in front of his eyes. He shut them. What was happening? What had happened? * * * "I apologize for requiring a report of you when you are in this...state." The way First-Lead Ohn had almost spat the last word made it clear that he was not at all sorry. There was a silence. Flek realized that, far from being an apology, that had actually been a command. "The intelligence was wrong." A loud hiss came over the transmitter as First-Lead Ohn exhaled. "It was wrong," Flek repeated. "All of it. Catastrophically so. "The hairle-- the humans have their own armed forces. They are exceedingly well-trained and work together more cohesively than our own." "How is it possible? The holo-" Ohn's voice had dropped to a lethal whisper. "The majority of the citizenry are non-military. It is unclear what purpose they serve. But they are allowed to walk about freely with no escort or, seemingly, fear of danger." Ohn scoffed at this, and shifted his gaze. "Healing technician Alapp, you said he was neurally intact." Flek ignored this. "This has to be true because their military are easily identified. In addition to rudimentary metal projectiles that seem to be fired by miniature detonation, they have a range of incendiary devices, as well as...armored military vehicles." Ohn had turned his head to someone off-screen. "Surely there is someone else I can talk to? Someone more lucid, I hope?" An unseen voice replied shakily, "The Fourth-Lead was...the only survivor." Ohn sighed. "I mean from one of the other clusters, Attendant." "First-Lead Ohn, I...the..." There was a tense silence. "The Fourth-Lead was the only survivor." Ohn's head dropped out of sight momentarily, until the holo-receiver panned down to catch him, sunken into his chair. Flek decided there was no point in holding back. "The sidearms were of the single-fire and rapid-fire variety, with projectiles designed for bypassing armor and for increasing collateral damage via shrapnel. The incendiary devices were handheld or fired from shoulder-mounted cannons. A variety of chemical agents were also tried against our troops...I believe my suit registered sensory blockers as well as neurotoxins. "The armored military vehicles had cannons mounted on them, as well. Our energy weapons were somewhat effective against the infantry but had no visible effect on the armored vehicles. Near the end of the encounter, I had the impression we were being attacked from the air as well, but...it is possible my perceptions are failing me, given my state." Ohn looked steadily at Flek for some time. "Thank you, Fourth-lead." The screen went black, and, moments later, so did Flek's vision. * * * /r/ShadowsofClouds
[WP] Your flatmate had has always joked about being a banished Prince from a magical land. You've always joked about him taking you back with him if he's ever able to return. He wakes you early one morning and says "I can finally open a portal back to my homeland. You've got 5 minutes to get ready."	5 minutes later "Come on! Why did you start playing video games? Seriously? I thought you were coming with me!" You spin around in your chair to see John standing in front of a swirling, blue portal. You choke on your Sprite. "What the Hell? I thought you were joking!" "Why would I joke about this??? This is serious! Are you coming? This thing closes in..." he looks at his pocket watch, "4 minutes!" "Shit!" You panic and pull your duffel bag out from under your bed. Luckily, you always have basic travel necessities packed inside since you are notorious for forgetting things. You start shoving clothes from your dresser inside. What is the weather like there? You have to pack for all occasions. "Seriously, I told you about this like a month ago. How are you not ready? We talked about this!" John fumes. He fiddles with his pocket watch again. You'd always though he was a little odd for carrying one, but now you guessed there wasn't any electricity where you were going. "Is there electricity there? Will there be anywhere to plug in my straightener?" You ask, dashing for the pantry. "No, there won't be. My home is not as advanced as this world," he replies. "Were you listening to anything I've said this month?" "Well... yea. I mean, I didn't exactly store it as crucial information!" You grab all the ramen and pasta along with some pasta sauce and SpaghettiOs. Hopefully that would hold you over until... what? You have no idea where you're going, but there was no time to think. "If you're not ready in 2 minutes, I'm leaving without you," John informs you. You dart into the bathroom and grab your glasses case. You have contacts in now, but you know they won't last long. You run back to your room, spot a lighter on your dresser, and toss it in as well. Finally, you think you have everything you'll need. "Ok, let's go. Take my hand," John commands and turns towards you. That's when you notice a glint at his hip. He has the massive sword that had always hung in his room. "Wait!" You cry and jump onto your bed. Above it was mounted a replica katana from The Walking Dead. It was one of the few things you had allowed you to buy for yourself aside from your computer. You sling it over your back. "Ready." "Are you sure? You might not ever be able to come back," John says. "There is nothing but debt and depression for me here," you say, grabbing his hand and bravely stepping towards the portal. John doesn't look scared at all, but fear is growing inside you. It feels surprisingly good. It has been a long time since you felt such a strong emotion. John suddenly yanks you into a hug, and before you can register what's happening, he tips you both sideways into the portal. The dark blue light is blinding as you fall. It feels as though your heart is beating faster than a humming bird's wings. Then your side that was supposed to be facing up hits the ground. It knocks the breath out of you. There is grass beneath your cheek, and a cool breeze teases your tresses across your face. The ground is solid and comforting beneath you as you try to catch your breath. "Are you all right?" John asks, untangling himself from you and sitting up. You raise your eyes and let them adjust to the sunlight. It was beautiful out, but it was still darker than the portal. Before you is a lake trimmed with mountains. Trees taller than your office building spring up behind it. They meet the meadow you lay on only a short distance away, and you can see little lights dancing within. The lake ripples softly at the breeze's caress. It's something out of a picture. "Oh, nooooo," you say, groaning as you sit up. "What's wrong? Did you get hurt?" John asks, concern creasing his face. "I forgot my swimsuit." Edits for continuity to the prompt and words.	"Go Away and Shite" I Growled into my pillow. The hammering on the door changed frequency, now that it had prompted a response. "I said shite off, I've a head on me like terrier's tennis ball and I need to sleep it off", I both moaned and pleaded. The tempo and intensity of the hammering on the door increased, like the buildup to the Beat drop composed by a 15 year old with a pirated copy of fruityloops, who knows they are going to be the next... whoever was the next Skrillex after he stopped being cool. Much like a shitty club track, there actually was an explosive end to the repetitive thumping. In this case it carried my door across my room and Half-embedded/half shattered into and against the wall. not sure if you've ever got a mouthful of chipboard and plasterboard while screaming, with a headache like a forward took a free kick and blasted two marbles up your nose at point blank range, but if not, I don't recommend it; if you have, you have my sympathies. I sat up in bed to see my housemate, obviously munted on something. Looking at his clothes, I'd have said shrooms, but looking at his face and my ruined bedroom, some sort of designer russian combat drug might be more likely. Baz down behind the takeway had been getting some weird shite in from His dealers lately. that bag of yokes he sold me last week had me pissing green for 3 days. I knew I'd have to talk Aslo down. "Jesus, calm your tits, Aslo, you've wrecked me bleeding door" He just looked at me, breathing slowly. he had those shitty contacts in again, the ones that make it look like he had cat eyes. Said it made him feel like home. I said it made him look like what they told us child molester's looked like, back when we were in school. I decided it was probably not a good time to bring up the topic of sexual assualt. I didnt want to give him ideas. "Aslo, You ok, bud? You look a bit ... out of sorts. also you kicked my door in." He didnt respond for a moment, then walked over to the wardrobe in my room and threw the doors open. Now, either I took something before bed, Aslo had smoked the house out or there was a forest inside my closet. and it was snowing. I scrambled up out of bed, grabbed my pants, socks and boots and scrambled into the snow after Aslo. "Aslo, Am I fucking tripping balls night now or did we walk through a wardrobe into a forest." Aslo finally replied, "No, Decco, no, You'd had a dozen or so bottles before bed and I've only done a few lines of coke and we have finally found the portal to return me to my true realm, Now together we can finally help me reclaim my birthright and restore the throne to its true king." A far away look crossed his face "Truely, This is the greatest day in my life, Decco. " there was a moment of a pause as Also seemed to grow taller, to almost become part of the landscape, as if become part of someplace he truly was ment to be. a soft Halo almost seemed to surround his head as he turned to face me. "I cant feel my fucking face Decco, I think I'm having a heart attack, Decco. FUCK". I dont remember much more, because Aslo turned and punched me before growling like a large cat. then I passed out. I woke up to coats and Aslo's vomit in my Gym bag.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	"Vampire! Vampire! Vampire! Incoming missiles straight up our stern." "Cut thrust, slew the ship 90 degrees and roll us. Put the raw materials bunkers between us and the engines. They won't have time for a second volley before we can jump." The ship lurched uncomfortably, even under the relatively low G of a skip and roll. Saem barely coped with g shifts in one direction, two made the lieutenant nauseated. "Roll complete," announced the shipyard delivery pilot. The cease to the gutwrenching movement made this perfectly clear, but the situation didn't lend itself to criticism. Missiles slammed into the Jupiter two breaths later. Iron and nickel spilled from ruptured metal storage bunkets and particles ranging from microscopic to attack-craft in size clouded the sensors. Hundreds of tonnes of debris swirled and pelted the ship across the length of the hull, triggering secondary explosions. The Jupiter shuddered noticeably, but with less force than had just upset Saem's breakfast. Even high-explosive warheads barely nudged a Creator-class fleet auxiliary ship into a 0.3g roll. "18 seconds out from the jump gate, lieutenant," the pilot reminded Saem, though she spoken quietly. Saem shook his head. He'd just almost smeared a new-build gigatonne ship against a jump gate because of an armed navigation buoy, and was about to do it again because he'd pointed his ship the wrong way. "Bring us around," ordered Saem. "I... can't." The hushed tone from previously made its origin known. The secondary explosions, even now punctuating the ship had severed power conduits to the gyros. They were positioned as near aa possible to the ship's centre of mass: right below the metals bunkers. The only force moving the Jupiter was the slight spin imparted by the missile impact. The pilot left the bridge, muttering about the military delivering its own ships. The Jupiter crossed the jump gate threshold facing mostly the wrong way. Only 1.8% of the drive had been spun into a useful position by the missiles' transferred intertia. It saved the lives of the 17 shipyard delivery workers on board the Jupiter. --- The Jupiter spent 7 weeks travelling 93 lightyears distance. The shipyard crew onboard the ship had put in overtime, having barely slept, programming the necessary repairs into the automated bots. The ship had power to almost every gyro before leaving jump. --- "Jump exit in 5..." Jupiter emerged from the gate in an entirely unremarkable part of space, which was both relieving and terrifying for Saem. There were no missiles here on the one hand, but the outer gas planet the gate was supposed to be orbiting being conspicuously absent did not reassure him. He gave the pilot 'the look'. --- Jupiter began active scanning of the space around them. They found the gas giant eventually; it had moved. The stars had moved too. The entire galaxy had shifted, the positioning of the spiral arms had made all old and familiar constellations extinct. --- Days later; sensor data started to trickle back from the incredibly distant inner system. Basic information at first. The star system was still here, but its version of here was still jarring to Saem and the pilot. More refined sensor data followed, but with anomalous radiation. JOKE ENDING. I need to sleep. When decrypted the radiation turned out to be an audio visual feed. A purple, vaguely humanoid, alien wore a black jacket, which seemed to be a visual acknowledgement of rank. The message started. "Ayyyyy." The alien said, while crudely recreating a... double thumbs up?	"Captain, the expeditionary force is fully accounted for" Apollo's voice reverberated in Captain Morgans head. When he's not expecting anyone else in his head, the input could be quite overwhelming. The ship's AI spoke to the captain through an implant in his brain which created the illusion of a 2nd conscious. This allowed the Captain access to any of the ship's systems, sensors, and data by mere thought. The benefit of a Quantum AI (QAI) able compute billions of calculations a tick at the disposal of 12,000 crew members and expeditionary marines, made the SNS Saratoga the first of it's kind. The flag ship for the future of the human race. Morgan exited the quiet and dark briefing room onto the bridge. "Captain on the bridge!" an ensign yells "At ease" Morgan says before any of the bridge crew has a chance to stand. Morgan squeezes between bridge crew preforming various task at their consoles on his way to the command cluster. The Saratoga was designed with efficiency in mind, it had very little luxuries, and space wasn't one of them. The bridge had no view ports, it was nestled in the front core of the ship. The command cluster consisted of him in the center and 5 other stations, each focusing on a vital ship function, all very close, yet mesmorizingly egronomicbin design. The ship was designed by humans first ever AI engineer, who went through trillions of iterations for months before settling on what is now Saratoga. (Sorry I'm on mobile so I gotta wrap this up, so fast forward to entering a hyper lane gate. We're leaving a system after military exercises (show of force) and headed back to Earth to take part in a 2,000 anniversary of space flight) The Sol system Hyper Lane Gate pulsed to life. It's structure and mass made it nearly indestructible compared to those built in other systems. Humans wanted to make sure no matter what happened there will always be a gate at home. It served as the hub of commerce and colonization as well as a beacon of hope. Space and time crushed inside the ring of the gate, stretching what seem infinitely into a pocket of void somehow only contained in the ring. As the void collapses the SNS Saratoga drifts out of the Hyper Lane gate. Large jolts of energy discharge from Saratoga's hull striking the gate and recharging its capacitors. The energy needed to jump the gate is immense, "slowing down" to the natural state of physics on the other hand had the opposite effect. The energy created would be discharged on the gate to be reused. On the bridge physics engineer Leftenant Tanaka was the first to volunteer information. "Sir, the gate failed the data uplink. "Did we fry it?" Morgan asks. Saratoga was the biggest ship to ever use the gates, there was some debate if it was to big. Apollo chimes in "the gate's star facing systems have been damaged, there appears to have been a solar event." "Show me" Morgan says and Apollo brings up a screen of one of the hull cameras. The gate and Neptune aligned with the camera perfectly, but the gate bore black scarring on it's sun facing side, almost as if dipped in charcoal. As the hull capacity discharges to safer levels more systems come online. Other stations begin reporting anomalies. "The star map data does not recognize our location, sir" "Captain the our database does not recognize it the system we're in, the star is classified as a, sub giant star." As the full spectrum of the ship's sensors come online Apollo peices together what has happened. The captains face sinks as he leans back into his chair. A few keen crew members can tell he's having a conversation with Apollo. "Captain permission to share with the bridge" Apollo ask the captain. "Go ahead" Morgan says out loud before standing, looking into the display of the sun, still small from the view near Neptune's orbit. Apollo links to mutiple displays across the bridge. "We have encountered a disruption during our jump. As a result we've exited an estimated 5 billion years from the time we've jumped." The crew sat quitely in shock. "Cause of the disturbance Apollo?" Captain Morgan ask. "While I cannot say with complete certainty, during the design and deployment of the gate it was theorised the energy of a collapsing of a supergiant black hole would be able to disrupt travel in about the radius of roughly the size of the visible universe. Of course a collapse was only a theoretical probability with a near infinitesimal chance of actually happening." As Apollo finishes his statement Earth breaks on the horizon of the sun. It is a strewn molten football which seems to skim the surface of the sun. "Are there any other ship's scheduled for gate travel the same time we where?" Morgan ask Apollo. "13 ship's captain, the closest in the gate network is the SNS Hanzo, a frigate headed to the Atari system for repairs" "Apollo brief section commanders, then have them brief their crews. Tanaka can we dial out the gate?" "No sir, we'll have to send a repair team" Tanaka replies. "Ok, let's get started" Captain Morgan says as he sits back in his chair.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	"How do you feel?" "Serena... how are you feeling please, talk to me." Ever since they dragged me here into the grand ol' NY FTL Spaceport, I've been trying my damn near hardest to control myself from unleashing all this raw, pent up fury I've had for whichever shitheaded idiot of a counselor decided to give my parents the stupid advice of shipping their only daughter 100 light years away to who knows where... or when. She should know exactly how I feel I thought, how would she have felt.. if the only people she'd thought would accept her, despite the deserted anomaly she was, had gotten out of bed one day and decided to do what everyone else had done to her for the entire 13 years she'd been alive... alienate her. "Please stop. Just stop", I barely croak out with my wet face buried underneath the jacket she'd gotten me precisely a year ago for my 12th birthday. Ever since then, I can say with bitter confidence that the past year has been the worst year of my life. "Stop talking to me please" "Serena I-", "NO!" I snap, "Shutup!, just shut. Up. Don't even bother spending your money on a DSN Comm for me, I don't ever want to hear the sound of you or Dad's voice ever... again. I will never forgive you. If you want me to at least pretend to feel bad that I may never get to see you guys again for the next few decades or maybe even ever, you can start by explaining why you're shipping me off the entire planet- no.. galaxy" "I- I don't get it" Now I'm barely muttering words through sloppy sobs. My parents are old. My dad, is 376 years and my mom I'd say is around her 350s but she'd never say exactly. FLT travel is usually for working class triple-centenarians who would sacrifice a family life or even any regular life for the sake of wealth, spying on the Andromedes or the search for spinfoam minerals in distant galaxies. Each jump is 20 light years, meaning, a round trip for one jump would mean that everyone here on Earth would get 40 years older while the jumper stayed relatively ageless. With any amount of jumps higher than 5, you can kiss your Earthly life bye bye, no one you care about will be alive or recognizable if you decide to come back. Which is why I felt utterly betrayed when I read that my ticket said 6 jumps. "How could you guys do this" I say getting riled up again. "I'm already too scared to go an airplane, plus-" "Serena thats enough!" My dad echoes, emerging from the end of the hallway. From the look on his face I can tell. It's time. He squats down to meet my gaze the same way he's done countless times before when he'd try and comfort me when I'd be severely shaken from my night terrors that would sometimes wake the neighborhood. "I'm sorry cariña, but we can't tell you much ok?" "What? What are you even-" "Serena...listen.. " "Remember how you knew that your mother was pregnant before we could even find out for ourselves? Or how you knew that your teacher was an undercover Andromede?" I nod my head. "Just as how you know now that I'm telling the truth when I say that we love you, and that you will see us again." Now I'm crying a mess. He was telling the truth. "Serena, you must know, that there are some very bad people, that are like you and will *know* if either your mother and I tell you the actual reason you need to be on this flight or very bad things will happen, do you understand?" "Y-Yes" I croak. "I understand" "Please Serena trust us, we will see each other again." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So.. ok, Captainnn...? “Nesci” “Yes, Captain Nesci, first off, I would like to thank you sir for contributing your life to countless light years of service. Now. I’m sure you can understand why we all are confused by your story, or, the second part of it at least. You seem to be fairly intact… Um, given, that you are claiming that your ship had been and I quote: Yanked out of the 4th jump, which in turn, killed half the passengers on board from G-forces, putting you in an impossible situation in which you decided to make a ‘necessary’ rough landing in an enemy quadrant, on a planet that had been inhabited by cephalopod like creatures” “Is that correct?” “You’re damn right”, I say before raising my cup to let the bitter taste of liquid I was given run its course down my throat. “Captain, I’m aware your ship was hijacked, yes this is a fact, but it still doesn’t explain why you didn’t send a distress signal of your coordinates as soon as you left the Hyperflow. And not to mention, you had 5 kids on board, which is an automatic violation of protocol for anyone on course for more than four jumps. On top of that you decided to land in a quadrant claimed by Andromeda Rule which is another automatic violation, one punishable by Inception. “You fellas are really wasting your time, there are still passengers on that planet with those.. Things. And every second you take to question my over what? 4000 light years of experience, those passengers, those kids have less of a chance to survive in that Mover forsaken place. Those ugly ass creatures approached us but I managed to empty a few rounds into a few of them, enough, to scare em off” I say remembering the devilish squeals that those little things belched out in agony. The deputy and his men all threw twisted glances of confusion at each other. “Captain we have your passengers, they are safe. We have all but two women, a man and an adolescent male, besides the other 40 passengers who died due to the G-forces like you said” “Ha! Very well, why the hell are you questioning me for then? Why don’t you just extract the q-memories from one of the children so that you can see for yourselves what went down?” “Um sir.. We did” The voice came from the corner of the room. A young scrawny feller, couldn’t be past his first century from the look of his height compared to all the grown folk in the room. He sat down next to the deputy and pulled out a tablet. “What is this?” “Uh these are q-memories from a 13 year old passenger named Serena Brodmann Mr. Nesci, but before I show you what we extracted you must know that we have carefully analyzed the data enough to confirm that these q-memories are indeed legitimate. This is roughly 40 minutes after impact, exactly 5 minutes before our people came to recover your people and what was left of your ship” He presses play. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- First there’s smoke. The screen jolts abruptly to the rhythm of a sound that can only be the little girl going through a coughing fit. The first two minutes consist of her digging herself out the rubble with a surprising amount of strength. She looks up to admire a sky that is not much like the one she’s familiar with. This one had 2 red stars each sharing the same horizon that sat on a golden colored stratosphere. “Whoa” I hear echo from the tablet. 2 minutes left. She’s walking now on green colored sand, toward what seems to be a little pale skinned boy, staring at her with eyes widened with awe. I don’t remember this passenger I thought. “Are you okay?” She asks him. “Human”, he says. “Being of Noise. Old, very old” She takes his hand and starts running fast towards a growing dot in the distance that can only be ship of the cavalry that I’m in the company of now. 30 seconds left. “What is your name?” She asks him “Name name” he says cheerfully while trying to keep her pace. Then I see it. As she passes more rubble I see my bloody face in the distance. I’m clutching the emergency rifle tightly as it viscously shakes with the kickback from all the rounds I allow it to unleash. She doesn’t stop to watch but instead continues her sprint with the boy to the rescue ship. Before either of them saw it coming the boys body is violiently torn apart by an immense force of which could only be from a Grade A antimatter cannon. The very same one the girl saw that I was holding.	"Captain, the expeditionary force is fully accounted for" Apollo's voice reverberated in Captain Morgans head. When he's not expecting anyone else in his head, the input could be quite overwhelming. The ship's AI spoke to the captain through an implant in his brain which created the illusion of a 2nd conscious. This allowed the Captain access to any of the ship's systems, sensors, and data by mere thought. The benefit of a Quantum AI (QAI) able compute billions of calculations a tick at the disposal of 12,000 crew members and expeditionary marines, made the SNS Saratoga the first of it's kind. The flag ship for the future of the human race. Morgan exited the quiet and dark briefing room onto the bridge. "Captain on the bridge!" an ensign yells "At ease" Morgan says before any of the bridge crew has a chance to stand. Morgan squeezes between bridge crew preforming various task at their consoles on his way to the command cluster. The Saratoga was designed with efficiency in mind, it had very little luxuries, and space wasn't one of them. The bridge had no view ports, it was nestled in the front core of the ship. The command cluster consisted of him in the center and 5 other stations, each focusing on a vital ship function, all very close, yet mesmorizingly egronomicbin design. The ship was designed by humans first ever AI engineer, who went through trillions of iterations for months before settling on what is now Saratoga. (Sorry I'm on mobile so I gotta wrap this up, so fast forward to entering a hyper lane gate. We're leaving a system after military exercises (show of force) and headed back to Earth to take part in a 2,000 anniversary of space flight) The Sol system Hyper Lane Gate pulsed to life. It's structure and mass made it nearly indestructible compared to those built in other systems. Humans wanted to make sure no matter what happened there will always be a gate at home. It served as the hub of commerce and colonization as well as a beacon of hope. Space and time crushed inside the ring of the gate, stretching what seem infinitely into a pocket of void somehow only contained in the ring. As the void collapses the SNS Saratoga drifts out of the Hyper Lane gate. Large jolts of energy discharge from Saratoga's hull striking the gate and recharging its capacitors. The energy needed to jump the gate is immense, "slowing down" to the natural state of physics on the other hand had the opposite effect. The energy created would be discharged on the gate to be reused. On the bridge physics engineer Leftenant Tanaka was the first to volunteer information. "Sir, the gate failed the data uplink. "Did we fry it?" Morgan asks. Saratoga was the biggest ship to ever use the gates, there was some debate if it was to big. Apollo chimes in "the gate's star facing systems have been damaged, there appears to have been a solar event." "Show me" Morgan says and Apollo brings up a screen of one of the hull cameras. The gate and Neptune aligned with the camera perfectly, but the gate bore black scarring on it's sun facing side, almost as if dipped in charcoal. As the hull capacity discharges to safer levels more systems come online. Other stations begin reporting anomalies. "The star map data does not recognize our location, sir" "Captain the our database does not recognize it the system we're in, the star is classified as a, sub giant star." As the full spectrum of the ship's sensors come online Apollo peices together what has happened. The captains face sinks as he leans back into his chair. A few keen crew members can tell he's having a conversation with Apollo. "Captain permission to share with the bridge" Apollo ask the captain. "Go ahead" Morgan says out loud before standing, looking into the display of the sun, still small from the view near Neptune's orbit. Apollo links to mutiple displays across the bridge. "We have encountered a disruption during our jump. As a result we've exited an estimated 5 billion years from the time we've jumped." The crew sat quitely in shock. "Cause of the disturbance Apollo?" Captain Morgan ask. "While I cannot say with complete certainty, during the design and deployment of the gate it was theorised the energy of a collapsing of a supergiant black hole would be able to disrupt travel in about the radius of roughly the size of the visible universe. Of course a collapse was only a theoretical probability with a near infinitesimal chance of actually happening." As Apollo finishes his statement Earth breaks on the horizon of the sun. It is a strewn molten football which seems to skim the surface of the sun. "Are there any other ship's scheduled for gate travel the same time we where?" Morgan ask Apollo. "13 ship's captain, the closest in the gate network is the SNS Hanzo, a frigate headed to the Atari system for repairs" "Apollo brief section commanders, then have them brief their crews. Tanaka can we dial out the gate?" "No sir, we'll have to send a repair team" Tanaka replies. "Ok, let's get started" Captain Morgan says as he sits back in his chair.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	An alarm blared in Justin's peripheral hearing as he was focused on his ship's interface which was plotting the channel his ship was traveling thru as he had passed the interface with the physical dimension that humanity was accustomed to existing in, for the higher level dimension that the hyperlane used for transportation. "Shit, I've lost the beacon!" as his thoughts and feelings immediately changed to that of fear as his dimensional plot immediately disappeared putting him in the situation that his fellow humans only hypothesized about happening. Humanity, as it seemed in all their ingenuity decided to conquer time and use it for their own purposes to help drastically reduce the vast emptiness of space between solar systems to a barrier which was measured only in seconds instead of thousands or millions of years for the older generation of engines which could only travel up the speed of light before their expansion era. While Justin's ship's engines were of a generation now well capable of traveling vastly beyond the speed of light without transitioning into 4th dimensional space, the necessary elements needed to fuel the singularity engines were extremely hard to produce and culturally, used for a very specific purpose. Even for Humanity which up to that point had a space faring civilization spanning over a hundred thousand years, they had only recently in their massive history been able to specifically control the composition of elements at the sub-quark and lepton levels to make extremely exotic creations which would never exist otherwise. And at this time in galactic history, they were the only known species they had encountered up to that point which was able to have such control over matter. Humanity, due to this new capability, was turning it's focus into new technological developments such as the Orion network. Most of those highly exotic, yet artificial resources were kept strictly for militaristic purposes to fuel the massive war machines of Humanity as it expanded in the universe. A universe which it had rapidly discovered in it's far past, that was not a very peaceful place. They had to fight to earn their place in the galaxy, and endure a hostile galaxy as a necessary aspect to survive. In those many wars that Humanity endured, it had to fight off civilizations that would otherwise consume their own resources, and take their technologies for their own. At a point in Humanities past, they had all unified during the great extinction event, and while pragmatic, and democratic in their own civilization; they encountered technologically advanced, yet largely isolated species. Isolation in the void it appeared to statistically breed a type of complex of desperation to break out. And those civilizations saw Humanity's capabilities and desperately tried to take them for their own as Humanity in it's own right was a stable and self sufficient civilization in the stars. Other species could not provide things worth trading for the vastly superior technology Humans possessed, and that sewed the threads of wars. The Orion network was Humanities greatest undertaking to date. With the advent of the network they would be able to move completely across the Milky Way Galaxy to it's further points in-between in under 10 seconds in any given case. This was an unheard of achievement amongst any of the other species registered in the Human's vast database of life encountered, and meticulously catalogued. This network would allows hips to pass thru their planet sized rings and cross thru the 4th dimensional space across the galaxy to points desired without the need for the highly exotic engine fuel. That fuel, of which was otherwise vastly restricted to be used for war ships to be able to traverse the Galaxy to protect humanity's interested when attacked. While Humanity had entire planets producing the fuel across strategic regions of the Milky Way, their vast fleets still would still completely exhaust all reserves if all fleets were needed to be moved at once. The Orion network completely removed this extremely concerning static limitation of Humanities capabilities. And this technology was still being mastered by Humans, and this is where Justin found himself… On the business end of a very bad hypothetical situation. As Justin's visioned blurred due to the time distortions that the ship was creating within the 4th dimensional space; he didn't know what to expect except for something extremely bad. Any experiment in the past with time had only ever ended in disaster when disaster struck. Time does not like to be meddled with it would seem, and would almost exhibit an intelligence to it when something was fractured in it's otherwise fine fabric. Before Justin knew it, he saw his ship in his interface go beyond the outer walls of the channel meaning he was in unrefined time space in the 4th dimension. The ship always had to operate within a well controlled bubble of time between the source and destination. If a ship were to move beyond the bubble into uncontrolled dimensional space, the models would not be able to predict the outcome due to the Shrodinger casualty. You'd simply have to be in that situation and measure the effects to find out what would happen…	"Captain, the expeditionary force is fully accounted for" Apollo's voice reverberated in Captain Morgans head. When he's not expecting anyone else in his head, the input could be quite overwhelming. The ship's AI spoke to the captain through an implant in his brain which created the illusion of a 2nd conscious. This allowed the Captain access to any of the ship's systems, sensors, and data by mere thought. The benefit of a Quantum AI (QAI) able compute billions of calculations a tick at the disposal of 12,000 crew members and expeditionary marines, made the SNS Saratoga the first of it's kind. The flag ship for the future of the human race. Morgan exited the quiet and dark briefing room onto the bridge. "Captain on the bridge!" an ensign yells "At ease" Morgan says before any of the bridge crew has a chance to stand. Morgan squeezes between bridge crew preforming various task at their consoles on his way to the command cluster. The Saratoga was designed with efficiency in mind, it had very little luxuries, and space wasn't one of them. The bridge had no view ports, it was nestled in the front core of the ship. The command cluster consisted of him in the center and 5 other stations, each focusing on a vital ship function, all very close, yet mesmorizingly egronomicbin design. The ship was designed by humans first ever AI engineer, who went through trillions of iterations for months before settling on what is now Saratoga. (Sorry I'm on mobile so I gotta wrap this up, so fast forward to entering a hyper lane gate. We're leaving a system after military exercises (show of force) and headed back to Earth to take part in a 2,000 anniversary of space flight) The Sol system Hyper Lane Gate pulsed to life. It's structure and mass made it nearly indestructible compared to those built in other systems. Humans wanted to make sure no matter what happened there will always be a gate at home. It served as the hub of commerce and colonization as well as a beacon of hope. Space and time crushed inside the ring of the gate, stretching what seem infinitely into a pocket of void somehow only contained in the ring. As the void collapses the SNS Saratoga drifts out of the Hyper Lane gate. Large jolts of energy discharge from Saratoga's hull striking the gate and recharging its capacitors. The energy needed to jump the gate is immense, "slowing down" to the natural state of physics on the other hand had the opposite effect. The energy created would be discharged on the gate to be reused. On the bridge physics engineer Leftenant Tanaka was the first to volunteer information. "Sir, the gate failed the data uplink. "Did we fry it?" Morgan asks. Saratoga was the biggest ship to ever use the gates, there was some debate if it was to big. Apollo chimes in "the gate's star facing systems have been damaged, there appears to have been a solar event." "Show me" Morgan says and Apollo brings up a screen of one of the hull cameras. The gate and Neptune aligned with the camera perfectly, but the gate bore black scarring on it's sun facing side, almost as if dipped in charcoal. As the hull capacity discharges to safer levels more systems come online. Other stations begin reporting anomalies. "The star map data does not recognize our location, sir" "Captain the our database does not recognize it the system we're in, the star is classified as a, sub giant star." As the full spectrum of the ship's sensors come online Apollo peices together what has happened. The captains face sinks as he leans back into his chair. A few keen crew members can tell he's having a conversation with Apollo. "Captain permission to share with the bridge" Apollo ask the captain. "Go ahead" Morgan says out loud before standing, looking into the display of the sun, still small from the view near Neptune's orbit. Apollo links to mutiple displays across the bridge. "We have encountered a disruption during our jump. As a result we've exited an estimated 5 billion years from the time we've jumped." The crew sat quitely in shock. "Cause of the disturbance Apollo?" Captain Morgan ask. "While I cannot say with complete certainty, during the design and deployment of the gate it was theorised the energy of a collapsing of a supergiant black hole would be able to disrupt travel in about the radius of roughly the size of the visible universe. Of course a collapse was only a theoretical probability with a near infinitesimal chance of actually happening." As Apollo finishes his statement Earth breaks on the horizon of the sun. It is a strewn molten football which seems to skim the surface of the sun. "Are there any other ship's scheduled for gate travel the same time we where?" Morgan ask Apollo. "13 ship's captain, the closest in the gate network is the SNS Hanzo, a frigate headed to the Atari system for repairs" "Apollo brief section commanders, then have them brief their crews. Tanaka can we dial out the gate?" "No sir, we'll have to send a repair team" Tanaka replies. "Ok, let's get started" Captain Morgan says as he sits back in his chair.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	Yan checked his watch. He was almost definitely going to be late. Pulling out his ComDev he sent a message to his team. - 'Running late. HPod in 2. Start WO me.' The familiar electronic scream of the ascending HyperPod came suddenly into the station as usual yet still, twelve years after the introduction of the HyperLanes Yan still bristled with excitement. He still struggled to comprehend how his journey to work had gone from 95 minutes down to 11. The innovation was simply unfathomable, yet here it was. There had been so many questions about safety. About cost. About everything. The HyperLanes had an almost perfect track record. The only incidents being caused by people, rather than malfunctions. Yan stepped in to the HyperPod and took a seat, noticing how unusually quiet the Pods were this morning. The departure warning chimed and the lights dimmed, in preparation of their departure. The door closed and the Pod began its descent down into the HyperLane. With a flash and a slightly uncharacteristic shudder, the Pod vanished. Yan's ComDev suddenly burst in to life. The device display told him he had several thousand missed connections and messages. Several thousand. He had just started to check the first, when the woman cried. Turning to look at her, his attention was taken by a dark, ruins of a station the Pod had arrived at. Jumping out of his seat and leaping out of the door, Yan surveyed the oddly unfamiliar scene. It was Monument alright, just as he'd expected, yet it wasn't. The arrival of the Pod, along with Yan's leap onto the bay landing had disturbed a settled layer of dust and debris that looked as though it hadn't been touched in a thousand years. The rest of the passengers emerged, bewildered by the sight of the station that now presented itself. Yan stepped back into the Pos and pulled out his ComDev. Scanning the messages, they all carried the same theme. - 'Where are you?'. Yan tried connecting to his wife but the ComDev was unresponsive. He tried a further 3 people before he realised it was hopeless. Checking the messages again, he jumped to the bottom of the list and saw that the date it was sent was 780,000 years ago. How could this be? There was a huge, flash of bright white light and Yan, along with the passengers were restrained and bundled into the back of a vehicle and then there was silence. ----- 'Khallar!', Jogo screamed. 'KHALLAR! A Pod arrived. A Pod!'. 'Khallar turned, incredulously telling Jogo to 'fuck off'. 'No. really. Just now at Monument. We sent a unit in immediately.' Khallar stood, suddenly anxious about the apparent arrival. Could the myths and legends be true? Could they really be descended from Humanity? Jogo's eyes glazed over as he received a Nuro-Message. When he came round, he looked up into Khallar's eyes and said quietly, 'There are 6. 6 humans.'. Khallar saw the excitement and fear in his eyes. Was this really happening?	"Captain, the expeditionary force is fully accounted for" Apollo's voice reverberated in Captain Morgans head. When he's not expecting anyone else in his head, the input could be quite overwhelming. The ship's AI spoke to the captain through an implant in his brain which created the illusion of a 2nd conscious. This allowed the Captain access to any of the ship's systems, sensors, and data by mere thought. The benefit of a Quantum AI (QAI) able compute billions of calculations a tick at the disposal of 12,000 crew members and expeditionary marines, made the SNS Saratoga the first of it's kind. The flag ship for the future of the human race. Morgan exited the quiet and dark briefing room onto the bridge. "Captain on the bridge!" an ensign yells "At ease" Morgan says before any of the bridge crew has a chance to stand. Morgan squeezes between bridge crew preforming various task at their consoles on his way to the command cluster. The Saratoga was designed with efficiency in mind, it had very little luxuries, and space wasn't one of them. The bridge had no view ports, it was nestled in the front core of the ship. The command cluster consisted of him in the center and 5 other stations, each focusing on a vital ship function, all very close, yet mesmorizingly egronomicbin design. The ship was designed by humans first ever AI engineer, who went through trillions of iterations for months before settling on what is now Saratoga. (Sorry I'm on mobile so I gotta wrap this up, so fast forward to entering a hyper lane gate. We're leaving a system after military exercises (show of force) and headed back to Earth to take part in a 2,000 anniversary of space flight) The Sol system Hyper Lane Gate pulsed to life. It's structure and mass made it nearly indestructible compared to those built in other systems. Humans wanted to make sure no matter what happened there will always be a gate at home. It served as the hub of commerce and colonization as well as a beacon of hope. Space and time crushed inside the ring of the gate, stretching what seem infinitely into a pocket of void somehow only contained in the ring. As the void collapses the SNS Saratoga drifts out of the Hyper Lane gate. Large jolts of energy discharge from Saratoga's hull striking the gate and recharging its capacitors. The energy needed to jump the gate is immense, "slowing down" to the natural state of physics on the other hand had the opposite effect. The energy created would be discharged on the gate to be reused. On the bridge physics engineer Leftenant Tanaka was the first to volunteer information. "Sir, the gate failed the data uplink. "Did we fry it?" Morgan asks. Saratoga was the biggest ship to ever use the gates, there was some debate if it was to big. Apollo chimes in "the gate's star facing systems have been damaged, there appears to have been a solar event." "Show me" Morgan says and Apollo brings up a screen of one of the hull cameras. The gate and Neptune aligned with the camera perfectly, but the gate bore black scarring on it's sun facing side, almost as if dipped in charcoal. As the hull capacity discharges to safer levels more systems come online. Other stations begin reporting anomalies. "The star map data does not recognize our location, sir" "Captain the our database does not recognize it the system we're in, the star is classified as a, sub giant star." As the full spectrum of the ship's sensors come online Apollo peices together what has happened. The captains face sinks as he leans back into his chair. A few keen crew members can tell he's having a conversation with Apollo. "Captain permission to share with the bridge" Apollo ask the captain. "Go ahead" Morgan says out loud before standing, looking into the display of the sun, still small from the view near Neptune's orbit. Apollo links to mutiple displays across the bridge. "We have encountered a disruption during our jump. As a result we've exited an estimated 5 billion years from the time we've jumped." The crew sat quitely in shock. "Cause of the disturbance Apollo?" Captain Morgan ask. "While I cannot say with complete certainty, during the design and deployment of the gate it was theorised the energy of a collapsing of a supergiant black hole would be able to disrupt travel in about the radius of roughly the size of the visible universe. Of course a collapse was only a theoretical probability with a near infinitesimal chance of actually happening." As Apollo finishes his statement Earth breaks on the horizon of the sun. It is a strewn molten football which seems to skim the surface of the sun. "Are there any other ship's scheduled for gate travel the same time we where?" Morgan ask Apollo. "13 ship's captain, the closest in the gate network is the SNS Hanzo, a frigate headed to the Atari system for repairs" "Apollo brief section commanders, then have them brief their crews. Tanaka can we dial out the gate?" "No sir, we'll have to send a repair team" Tanaka replies. "Ok, let's get started" Captain Morgan says as he sits back in his chair.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	"Vampire! Vampire! Vampire! Incoming missiles straight up our stern." "Cut thrust, slew the ship 90 degrees and roll us. Put the raw materials bunkers between us and the engines. They won't have time for a second volley before we can jump." The ship lurched uncomfortably, even under the relatively low G of a skip and roll. Saem barely coped with g shifts in one direction, two made the lieutenant nauseated. "Roll complete," announced the shipyard delivery pilot. The cease to the gutwrenching movement made this perfectly clear, but the situation didn't lend itself to criticism. Missiles slammed into the Jupiter two breaths later. Iron and nickel spilled from ruptured metal storage bunkets and particles ranging from microscopic to attack-craft in size clouded the sensors. Hundreds of tonnes of debris swirled and pelted the ship across the length of the hull, triggering secondary explosions. The Jupiter shuddered noticeably, but with less force than had just upset Saem's breakfast. Even high-explosive warheads barely nudged a Creator-class fleet auxiliary ship into a 0.3g roll. "18 seconds out from the jump gate, lieutenant," the pilot reminded Saem, though she spoken quietly. Saem shook his head. He'd just almost smeared a new-build gigatonne ship against a jump gate because of an armed navigation buoy, and was about to do it again because he'd pointed his ship the wrong way. "Bring us around," ordered Saem. "I... can't." The hushed tone from previously made its origin known. The secondary explosions, even now punctuating the ship had severed power conduits to the gyros. They were positioned as near aa possible to the ship's centre of mass: right below the metals bunkers. The only force moving the Jupiter was the slight spin imparted by the missile impact. The pilot left the bridge, muttering about the military delivering its own ships. The Jupiter crossed the jump gate threshold facing mostly the wrong way. Only 1.8% of the drive had been spun into a useful position by the missiles' transferred intertia. It saved the lives of the 17 shipyard delivery workers on board the Jupiter. --- The Jupiter spent 7 weeks travelling 93 lightyears distance. The shipyard crew onboard the ship had put in overtime, having barely slept, programming the necessary repairs into the automated bots. The ship had power to almost every gyro before leaving jump. --- "Jump exit in 5..." Jupiter emerged from the gate in an entirely unremarkable part of space, which was both relieving and terrifying for Saem. There were no missiles here on the one hand, but the outer gas planet the gate was supposed to be orbiting being conspicuously absent did not reassure him. He gave the pilot 'the look'. --- Jupiter began active scanning of the space around them. They found the gas giant eventually; it had moved. The stars had moved too. The entire galaxy had shifted, the positioning of the spiral arms had made all old and familiar constellations extinct. --- Days later; sensor data started to trickle back from the incredibly distant inner system. Basic information at first. The star system was still here, but its version of here was still jarring to Saem and the pilot. More refined sensor data followed, but with anomalous radiation. JOKE ENDING. I need to sleep. When decrypted the radiation turned out to be an audio visual feed. A purple, vaguely humanoid, alien wore a black jacket, which seemed to be a visual acknowledgement of rank. The message started. "Ayyyyy." The alien said, while crudely recreating a... double thumbs up?	I, the 118th Johnathan Christopher Smith, chewed on the foodstuff before me. The bland, mold green jello was neither tasty, fresh, or appetizing. It crumbled against my tongue before oozing down my throat. The fact that I was starving was the only reason that I ate. The provided water however was clean and so very delicious in comparison. I was initially afraid of poison, but now I was half hoping it was so that I could just die and be done with these horrible meals. I leaned back against the walls of the cell. The cell itself wasn’t impressive. A ten by ten cubic metered cell coloured in a rust hued grey. With little else to do I measured things since it killed an hour. The bed was a wonderful two-meter by six-meter plastic lined mesh. The ship belonged to my ‘rescuers’. An alien species that was an odd looking half turtle, half lizard people. They were large, ungainly, and so very well armed. They obviously didn’t subscribe to the Illumite Treaty of the Galactic Systems. Survivors of derelict ships were not to be treated like prisoners without due process. Not that I was sure there was even a Galactic System of Planets anymore. I sighed as I struggled down a mouthful of processed crap. I leaned back on the bed as I nursed my bottle of water. The gourd was round and was obviously meant for hand much larger then my own. With a though, I accessed my internal systems. The dated OS was mandated by the government and had to be manually switched at authorised terminals. Which meant that my entertainment was limited to the dozen magazines I had been excited to read. Along with another dozen books that filled up the very limited internal storage allotted for personal use. I had already read everything before I was ‘rescued’ and re-reading everything as a prisoner added a dark twist to everything. The only other things I had were the many technical manuals that were also so very boring. The tech books were heavily locked down as the government sanctioned documents were definitely not for public use. I literally couldn’t open them if there was another unauthorized person around me. It was meticulous and had a lot of stipulations. Of course I had read up on some of those as well. Being alone in a locked room for a half year was madness at best. aside from the first meeting, I was only let out twice. Both for odd scans and attempts at communication. They didn’t work out either way. A Hyper-Terminal Tekkard sounded great, but repairman was definitely closer to the truth. I was assigned to the Herzog Zwei Lane issue. This lane linked the MoO, The SoaSeR, and The Stellaris galaxies together. I would begin work in 28107 from MoO, and pop out in 28108 in Stellaris. Sure I would lose roughly a year of my life, but the government paid well and I would receive great perks. The Herzog Zwei Hyperlane, while relatively unpopular to the people, was very important for commerce. What I didn’t expect was to pop out to Stellaris and find nothing but a decayed Hyper Terminal that shattered as I exited. That was some exciting times as I was almost skewered by shrapnel, or baked by the explosion. The navigation system started to have an aneurism and the star charts followed right after I pulled them up to see if I was really in Stellaris. The ship AI crashed, twice, and I had to lock down the star map to prevent the old AL from locking up again. The old service AI was solid, but not very smart or powerful. Stellaris itself was broken, the yellow dwarf star was now a white dwarf. The entire system was lifeless. Four of its main planets were barren rock. Most likely victims of the yellow dwarf going super nova as it aged. Thrice. Or relatively lifeless as his emergency signals had attracted these scavengers. His supplies were running low, and there was simply no food to be found. The one surviving orbital station was a relay post and whoever maintained the rations had either forgotten to restock, or they were simply stolen. The onboard system could recycle liquid, but it couldn’t make healthy food from my own poop. The frozen meals were all I had. Enough for a year and a half. Which was lies since I barely got a year and a month out of them. I swore that if the Galactic Systems was still intact, I was going to lodge the largest formal complaint I could. Then these turtle people showed up, scanned me, and then placed me into their brig. Or I thought that it was a brig. Could have been a spare room. They also didn’t speak English, which made sense, just an odd language with clicks and hisses. The other two major languages, Spanish and Mandarin were also a bust. The world rumbled as the ship popped out of whatever. Hyper space was the most likely thing, but it took a lot of time for a yellow dwarf to go into its final white dwarf stage. Who knows what kind of tech existed now. Like billions of years. Which would also explain the extreme redshift that had almost crippled AL. The aliens had taken the ship but left it alone. I wondered if it was going to be torn apart, or sold. If I had travelled so far, then I wondered what modern man would look like. Evolution was a constant, but humans rarely saw it since our life spans were so short. Two, maybe three hundred years and off you went. My attention was yanked to the one door in the room. The hiss of hydraulics filled the room and echoed in my ears as the wide doors opened to admit three of the turtles. Two held guns. The universal long sticks that they held in their hands and a third that simply stood and beckoned me. I wished I could say that I recognized the thing, but really I didn’t. They all looked the same and I couldn’t tell the three apart aside from the fact that two had guns and one didn’t. I had tried to resist once. Just once. They had simply picked up me by my throat and easily dragged me out to a scanner bed. That had hurt. It had taken weeks for the bruises to heal. The next time they took me, I followed, and they simply interrogated me. They hiss and clicked and I tried to talk or mime things back. Yeah, that didn’t work. The fact that I also knew other languages seemed to trip them up. The sudden shift of my tone and method of speech riled them up. One of the gun-less things punched the wall in frustration and left a dent in the walls. It looked like metal walls. Yeah, I started to panic after that and they had to escort me back to my room. Today, they took me further then ever before. It was a long walk and at the end, I made it to the bridge. There was a larger, slouching turtle thing on a big bench. Their physiology made it simple. Big shell-like bodies meant no chairs, but benches with odd grooves. Human butts didn’t conform well. The blinking lights of a sphere caught my eye on the viewscreen. Digital as I was sure that they weren’t dumb enough to try out glass. One hyper jump and your ship would tear itself apart as the glass shrapnel, accelerated by high pressure, would allow it to tear into metal. A dull hum filled the bridge as the sphere beamed a light onto them. The screen showed it blue, but who knows what the real colour was. My hairs raised themselves as the beam most likely passed over me. The leader spoke loudly. His hisses deep and clicks loud. The other bridge crew began fiddling with knobs and levers. Which confused me. Who the hell used knob and levers on a ship in vacuum!? Then my handler picked me up. His dull claws simply found my sides and he lifted me up and placed me before a console. He pushed my face towards a mound of mesh and fabric. The communication officer…? Leaned forward and slowly made clicks and hisses while facing it. Oh. Was this a mic? “Uhhh, Hello?” I was very eloquent. [Hello.] was the eventual response. The words were clear from the bridge’s speakers. The soft voice belonged to a woman. The grip on me weakened and I guess that was encouragement. The dull, but probably dense claws left my head. “I am Jonathan Smith, Galactic Systems Tekkard. Uh, pleased to meet you?” [I am Alexa, systematic administrator. How may I help you, Jonathan Smith?] “I uhh, got rescued? From Stellaris. I am not sure what is going on. And can you get me out of here and back into Galactic Space?” I asked. Begged. Pleaded. I desperately wanted a hamburger. And a real, proper toilet. Not some rusty metal chute that opened from a wall. I was half shocked that I hadn’t gotten tetanus. Ooooh! Soft toilet paper. Not paper Mache type stuff. [Accessing… Johnathan Christopher Smith. Government Tekkard, hired 28079.] “I… what? Yeah… that’s me… how?” I stuttered as I blinked at the mic. The system knew me? Or rather, could find me? I knew that all records since the 9th millennium were hard coded into the databases, but there was a ton of people. I was also the 118th person in my family to be named Johnathan. There was a lot of us. [Understood. I will follow the proper protocols. Please do not be alarmed. Do no panic.] I immediately started to panic, as anyone would in my situation. Proper protocols were that they didn’t negotiate with terrorist, extremists, and criminals in general. Alexis began to click and hiss back. Which shocked the crew. My handler even let me go as he turned to the big boss and they quickly, and excitedly The sphere floated up, and shed more blue light onto the ship. My hairs rose once more as I felt a tingle started from my spine and it quickly spread across my body. I twitched one. Twice. And felt the world compress around me.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	"How do you feel?" "Serena... how are you feeling please, talk to me." Ever since they dragged me here into the grand ol' NY FTL Spaceport, I've been trying my damn near hardest to control myself from unleashing all this raw, pent up fury I've had for whichever shitheaded idiot of a counselor decided to give my parents the stupid advice of shipping their only daughter 100 light years away to who knows where... or when. She should know exactly how I feel I thought, how would she have felt.. if the only people she'd thought would accept her, despite the deserted anomaly she was, had gotten out of bed one day and decided to do what everyone else had done to her for the entire 13 years she'd been alive... alienate her. "Please stop. Just stop", I barely croak out with my wet face buried underneath the jacket she'd gotten me precisely a year ago for my 12th birthday. Ever since then, I can say with bitter confidence that the past year has been the worst year of my life. "Stop talking to me please" "Serena I-", "NO!" I snap, "Shutup!, just shut. Up. Don't even bother spending your money on a DSN Comm for me, I don't ever want to hear the sound of you or Dad's voice ever... again. I will never forgive you. If you want me to at least pretend to feel bad that I may never get to see you guys again for the next few decades or maybe even ever, you can start by explaining why you're shipping me off the entire planet- no.. galaxy" "I- I don't get it" Now I'm barely muttering words through sloppy sobs. My parents are old. My dad, is 376 years and my mom I'd say is around her 350s but she'd never say exactly. FLT travel is usually for working class triple-centenarians who would sacrifice a family life or even any regular life for the sake of wealth, spying on the Andromedes or the search for spinfoam minerals in distant galaxies. Each jump is 20 light years, meaning, a round trip for one jump would mean that everyone here on Earth would get 40 years older while the jumper stayed relatively ageless. With any amount of jumps higher than 5, you can kiss your Earthly life bye bye, no one you care about will be alive or recognizable if you decide to come back. Which is why I felt utterly betrayed when I read that my ticket said 6 jumps. "How could you guys do this" I say getting riled up again. "I'm already too scared to go an airplane, plus-" "Serena thats enough!" My dad echoes, emerging from the end of the hallway. From the look on his face I can tell. It's time. He squats down to meet my gaze the same way he's done countless times before when he'd try and comfort me when I'd be severely shaken from my night terrors that would sometimes wake the neighborhood. "I'm sorry cariña, but we can't tell you much ok?" "What? What are you even-" "Serena...listen.. " "Remember how you knew that your mother was pregnant before we could even find out for ourselves? Or how you knew that your teacher was an undercover Andromede?" I nod my head. "Just as how you know now that I'm telling the truth when I say that we love you, and that you will see us again." Now I'm crying a mess. He was telling the truth. "Serena, you must know, that there are some very bad people, that are like you and will *know* if either your mother and I tell you the actual reason you need to be on this flight or very bad things will happen, do you understand?" "Y-Yes" I croak. "I understand" "Please Serena trust us, we will see each other again." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So.. ok, Captainnn...? “Nesci” “Yes, Captain Nesci, first off, I would like to thank you sir for contributing your life to countless light years of service. Now. I’m sure you can understand why we all are confused by your story, or, the second part of it at least. You seem to be fairly intact… Um, given, that you are claiming that your ship had been and I quote: Yanked out of the 4th jump, which in turn, killed half the passengers on board from G-forces, putting you in an impossible situation in which you decided to make a ‘necessary’ rough landing in an enemy quadrant, on a planet that had been inhabited by cephalopod like creatures” “Is that correct?” “You’re damn right”, I say before raising my cup to let the bitter taste of liquid I was given run its course down my throat. “Captain, I’m aware your ship was hijacked, yes this is a fact, but it still doesn’t explain why you didn’t send a distress signal of your coordinates as soon as you left the Hyperflow. And not to mention, you had 5 kids on board, which is an automatic violation of protocol for anyone on course for more than four jumps. On top of that you decided to land in a quadrant claimed by Andromeda Rule which is another automatic violation, one punishable by Inception. “You fellas are really wasting your time, there are still passengers on that planet with those.. Things. And every second you take to question my over what? 4000 light years of experience, those passengers, those kids have less of a chance to survive in that Mover forsaken place. Those ugly ass creatures approached us but I managed to empty a few rounds into a few of them, enough, to scare em off” I say remembering the devilish squeals that those little things belched out in agony. The deputy and his men all threw twisted glances of confusion at each other. “Captain we have your passengers, they are safe. We have all but two women, a man and an adolescent male, besides the other 40 passengers who died due to the G-forces like you said” “Ha! Very well, why the hell are you questioning me for then? Why don’t you just extract the q-memories from one of the children so that you can see for yourselves what went down?” “Um sir.. We did” The voice came from the corner of the room. A young scrawny feller, couldn’t be past his first century from the look of his height compared to all the grown folk in the room. He sat down next to the deputy and pulled out a tablet. “What is this?” “Uh these are q-memories from a 13 year old passenger named Serena Brodmann Mr. Nesci, but before I show you what we extracted you must know that we have carefully analyzed the data enough to confirm that these q-memories are indeed legitimate. This is roughly 40 minutes after impact, exactly 5 minutes before our people came to recover your people and what was left of your ship” He presses play. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- First there’s smoke. The screen jolts abruptly to the rhythm of a sound that can only be the little girl going through a coughing fit. The first two minutes consist of her digging herself out the rubble with a surprising amount of strength. She looks up to admire a sky that is not much like the one she’s familiar with. This one had 2 red stars each sharing the same horizon that sat on a golden colored stratosphere. “Whoa” I hear echo from the tablet. 2 minutes left. She’s walking now on green colored sand, toward what seems to be a little pale skinned boy, staring at her with eyes widened with awe. I don’t remember this passenger I thought. “Are you okay?” She asks him. “Human”, he says. “Being of Noise. Old, very old” She takes his hand and starts running fast towards a growing dot in the distance that can only be ship of the cavalry that I’m in the company of now. 30 seconds left. “What is your name?” She asks him “Name name” he says cheerfully while trying to keep her pace. Then I see it. As she passes more rubble I see my bloody face in the distance. I’m clutching the emergency rifle tightly as it viscously shakes with the kickback from all the rounds I allow it to unleash. She doesn’t stop to watch but instead continues her sprint with the boy to the rescue ship. Before either of them saw it coming the boys body is violiently torn apart by an immense force of which could only be from a Grade A antimatter cannon. The very same one the girl saw that I was holding.	I, the 118th Johnathan Christopher Smith, chewed on the foodstuff before me. The bland, mold green jello was neither tasty, fresh, or appetizing. It crumbled against my tongue before oozing down my throat. The fact that I was starving was the only reason that I ate. The provided water however was clean and so very delicious in comparison. I was initially afraid of poison, but now I was half hoping it was so that I could just die and be done with these horrible meals. I leaned back against the walls of the cell. The cell itself wasn’t impressive. A ten by ten cubic metered cell coloured in a rust hued grey. With little else to do I measured things since it killed an hour. The bed was a wonderful two-meter by six-meter plastic lined mesh. The ship belonged to my ‘rescuers’. An alien species that was an odd looking half turtle, half lizard people. They were large, ungainly, and so very well armed. They obviously didn’t subscribe to the Illumite Treaty of the Galactic Systems. Survivors of derelict ships were not to be treated like prisoners without due process. Not that I was sure there was even a Galactic System of Planets anymore. I sighed as I struggled down a mouthful of processed crap. I leaned back on the bed as I nursed my bottle of water. The gourd was round and was obviously meant for hand much larger then my own. With a though, I accessed my internal systems. The dated OS was mandated by the government and had to be manually switched at authorised terminals. Which meant that my entertainment was limited to the dozen magazines I had been excited to read. Along with another dozen books that filled up the very limited internal storage allotted for personal use. I had already read everything before I was ‘rescued’ and re-reading everything as a prisoner added a dark twist to everything. The only other things I had were the many technical manuals that were also so very boring. The tech books were heavily locked down as the government sanctioned documents were definitely not for public use. I literally couldn’t open them if there was another unauthorized person around me. It was meticulous and had a lot of stipulations. Of course I had read up on some of those as well. Being alone in a locked room for a half year was madness at best. aside from the first meeting, I was only let out twice. Both for odd scans and attempts at communication. They didn’t work out either way. A Hyper-Terminal Tekkard sounded great, but repairman was definitely closer to the truth. I was assigned to the Herzog Zwei Lane issue. This lane linked the MoO, The SoaSeR, and The Stellaris galaxies together. I would begin work in 28107 from MoO, and pop out in 28108 in Stellaris. Sure I would lose roughly a year of my life, but the government paid well and I would receive great perks. The Herzog Zwei Hyperlane, while relatively unpopular to the people, was very important for commerce. What I didn’t expect was to pop out to Stellaris and find nothing but a decayed Hyper Terminal that shattered as I exited. That was some exciting times as I was almost skewered by shrapnel, or baked by the explosion. The navigation system started to have an aneurism and the star charts followed right after I pulled them up to see if I was really in Stellaris. The ship AI crashed, twice, and I had to lock down the star map to prevent the old AL from locking up again. The old service AI was solid, but not very smart or powerful. Stellaris itself was broken, the yellow dwarf star was now a white dwarf. The entire system was lifeless. Four of its main planets were barren rock. Most likely victims of the yellow dwarf going super nova as it aged. Thrice. Or relatively lifeless as his emergency signals had attracted these scavengers. His supplies were running low, and there was simply no food to be found. The one surviving orbital station was a relay post and whoever maintained the rations had either forgotten to restock, or they were simply stolen. The onboard system could recycle liquid, but it couldn’t make healthy food from my own poop. The frozen meals were all I had. Enough for a year and a half. Which was lies since I barely got a year and a month out of them. I swore that if the Galactic Systems was still intact, I was going to lodge the largest formal complaint I could. Then these turtle people showed up, scanned me, and then placed me into their brig. Or I thought that it was a brig. Could have been a spare room. They also didn’t speak English, which made sense, just an odd language with clicks and hisses. The other two major languages, Spanish and Mandarin were also a bust. The world rumbled as the ship popped out of whatever. Hyper space was the most likely thing, but it took a lot of time for a yellow dwarf to go into its final white dwarf stage. Who knows what kind of tech existed now. Like billions of years. Which would also explain the extreme redshift that had almost crippled AL. The aliens had taken the ship but left it alone. I wondered if it was going to be torn apart, or sold. If I had travelled so far, then I wondered what modern man would look like. Evolution was a constant, but humans rarely saw it since our life spans were so short. Two, maybe three hundred years and off you went. My attention was yanked to the one door in the room. The hiss of hydraulics filled the room and echoed in my ears as the wide doors opened to admit three of the turtles. Two held guns. The universal long sticks that they held in their hands and a third that simply stood and beckoned me. I wished I could say that I recognized the thing, but really I didn’t. They all looked the same and I couldn’t tell the three apart aside from the fact that two had guns and one didn’t. I had tried to resist once. Just once. They had simply picked up me by my throat and easily dragged me out to a scanner bed. That had hurt. It had taken weeks for the bruises to heal. The next time they took me, I followed, and they simply interrogated me. They hiss and clicked and I tried to talk or mime things back. Yeah, that didn’t work. The fact that I also knew other languages seemed to trip them up. The sudden shift of my tone and method of speech riled them up. One of the gun-less things punched the wall in frustration and left a dent in the walls. It looked like metal walls. Yeah, I started to panic after that and they had to escort me back to my room. Today, they took me further then ever before. It was a long walk and at the end, I made it to the bridge. There was a larger, slouching turtle thing on a big bench. Their physiology made it simple. Big shell-like bodies meant no chairs, but benches with odd grooves. Human butts didn’t conform well. The blinking lights of a sphere caught my eye on the viewscreen. Digital as I was sure that they weren’t dumb enough to try out glass. One hyper jump and your ship would tear itself apart as the glass shrapnel, accelerated by high pressure, would allow it to tear into metal. A dull hum filled the bridge as the sphere beamed a light onto them. The screen showed it blue, but who knows what the real colour was. My hairs raised themselves as the beam most likely passed over me. The leader spoke loudly. His hisses deep and clicks loud. The other bridge crew began fiddling with knobs and levers. Which confused me. Who the hell used knob and levers on a ship in vacuum!? Then my handler picked me up. His dull claws simply found my sides and he lifted me up and placed me before a console. He pushed my face towards a mound of mesh and fabric. The communication officer…? Leaned forward and slowly made clicks and hisses while facing it. Oh. Was this a mic? “Uhhh, Hello?” I was very eloquent. [Hello.] was the eventual response. The words were clear from the bridge’s speakers. The soft voice belonged to a woman. The grip on me weakened and I guess that was encouragement. The dull, but probably dense claws left my head. “I am Jonathan Smith, Galactic Systems Tekkard. Uh, pleased to meet you?” [I am Alexa, systematic administrator. How may I help you, Jonathan Smith?] “I uhh, got rescued? From Stellaris. I am not sure what is going on. And can you get me out of here and back into Galactic Space?” I asked. Begged. Pleaded. I desperately wanted a hamburger. And a real, proper toilet. Not some rusty metal chute that opened from a wall. I was half shocked that I hadn’t gotten tetanus. Ooooh! Soft toilet paper. Not paper Mache type stuff. [Accessing… Johnathan Christopher Smith. Government Tekkard, hired 28079.] “I… what? Yeah… that’s me… how?” I stuttered as I blinked at the mic. The system knew me? Or rather, could find me? I knew that all records since the 9th millennium were hard coded into the databases, but there was a ton of people. I was also the 118th person in my family to be named Johnathan. There was a lot of us. [Understood. I will follow the proper protocols. Please do not be alarmed. Do no panic.] I immediately started to panic, as anyone would in my situation. Proper protocols were that they didn’t negotiate with terrorist, extremists, and criminals in general. Alexis began to click and hiss back. Which shocked the crew. My handler even let me go as he turned to the big boss and they quickly, and excitedly The sphere floated up, and shed more blue light onto the ship. My hairs rose once more as I felt a tingle started from my spine and it quickly spread across my body. I twitched one. Twice. And felt the world compress around me.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	An alarm blared in Justin's peripheral hearing as he was focused on his ship's interface which was plotting the channel his ship was traveling thru as he had passed the interface with the physical dimension that humanity was accustomed to existing in, for the higher level dimension that the hyperlane used for transportation. "Shit, I've lost the beacon!" as his thoughts and feelings immediately changed to that of fear as his dimensional plot immediately disappeared putting him in the situation that his fellow humans only hypothesized about happening. Humanity, as it seemed in all their ingenuity decided to conquer time and use it for their own purposes to help drastically reduce the vast emptiness of space between solar systems to a barrier which was measured only in seconds instead of thousands or millions of years for the older generation of engines which could only travel up the speed of light before their expansion era. While Justin's ship's engines were of a generation now well capable of traveling vastly beyond the speed of light without transitioning into 4th dimensional space, the necessary elements needed to fuel the singularity engines were extremely hard to produce and culturally, used for a very specific purpose. Even for Humanity which up to that point had a space faring civilization spanning over a hundred thousand years, they had only recently in their massive history been able to specifically control the composition of elements at the sub-quark and lepton levels to make extremely exotic creations which would never exist otherwise. And at this time in galactic history, they were the only known species they had encountered up to that point which was able to have such control over matter. Humanity, due to this new capability, was turning it's focus into new technological developments such as the Orion network. Most of those highly exotic, yet artificial resources were kept strictly for militaristic purposes to fuel the massive war machines of Humanity as it expanded in the universe. A universe which it had rapidly discovered in it's far past, that was not a very peaceful place. They had to fight to earn their place in the galaxy, and endure a hostile galaxy as a necessary aspect to survive. In those many wars that Humanity endured, it had to fight off civilizations that would otherwise consume their own resources, and take their technologies for their own. At a point in Humanities past, they had all unified during the great extinction event, and while pragmatic, and democratic in their own civilization; they encountered technologically advanced, yet largely isolated species. Isolation in the void it appeared to statistically breed a type of complex of desperation to break out. And those civilizations saw Humanity's capabilities and desperately tried to take them for their own as Humanity in it's own right was a stable and self sufficient civilization in the stars. Other species could not provide things worth trading for the vastly superior technology Humans possessed, and that sewed the threads of wars. The Orion network was Humanities greatest undertaking to date. With the advent of the network they would be able to move completely across the Milky Way Galaxy to it's further points in-between in under 10 seconds in any given case. This was an unheard of achievement amongst any of the other species registered in the Human's vast database of life encountered, and meticulously catalogued. This network would allows hips to pass thru their planet sized rings and cross thru the 4th dimensional space across the galaxy to points desired without the need for the highly exotic engine fuel. That fuel, of which was otherwise vastly restricted to be used for war ships to be able to traverse the Galaxy to protect humanity's interested when attacked. While Humanity had entire planets producing the fuel across strategic regions of the Milky Way, their vast fleets still would still completely exhaust all reserves if all fleets were needed to be moved at once. The Orion network completely removed this extremely concerning static limitation of Humanities capabilities. And this technology was still being mastered by Humans, and this is where Justin found himself… On the business end of a very bad hypothetical situation. As Justin's visioned blurred due to the time distortions that the ship was creating within the 4th dimensional space; he didn't know what to expect except for something extremely bad. Any experiment in the past with time had only ever ended in disaster when disaster struck. Time does not like to be meddled with it would seem, and would almost exhibit an intelligence to it when something was fractured in it's otherwise fine fabric. Before Justin knew it, he saw his ship in his interface go beyond the outer walls of the channel meaning he was in unrefined time space in the 4th dimension. The ship always had to operate within a well controlled bubble of time between the source and destination. If a ship were to move beyond the bubble into uncontrolled dimensional space, the models would not be able to predict the outcome due to the Shrodinger casualty. You'd simply have to be in that situation and measure the effects to find out what would happen…	I, the 118th Johnathan Christopher Smith, chewed on the foodstuff before me. The bland, mold green jello was neither tasty, fresh, or appetizing. It crumbled against my tongue before oozing down my throat. The fact that I was starving was the only reason that I ate. The provided water however was clean and so very delicious in comparison. I was initially afraid of poison, but now I was half hoping it was so that I could just die and be done with these horrible meals. I leaned back against the walls of the cell. The cell itself wasn’t impressive. A ten by ten cubic metered cell coloured in a rust hued grey. With little else to do I measured things since it killed an hour. The bed was a wonderful two-meter by six-meter plastic lined mesh. The ship belonged to my ‘rescuers’. An alien species that was an odd looking half turtle, half lizard people. They were large, ungainly, and so very well armed. They obviously didn’t subscribe to the Illumite Treaty of the Galactic Systems. Survivors of derelict ships were not to be treated like prisoners without due process. Not that I was sure there was even a Galactic System of Planets anymore. I sighed as I struggled down a mouthful of processed crap. I leaned back on the bed as I nursed my bottle of water. The gourd was round and was obviously meant for hand much larger then my own. With a though, I accessed my internal systems. The dated OS was mandated by the government and had to be manually switched at authorised terminals. Which meant that my entertainment was limited to the dozen magazines I had been excited to read. Along with another dozen books that filled up the very limited internal storage allotted for personal use. I had already read everything before I was ‘rescued’ and re-reading everything as a prisoner added a dark twist to everything. The only other things I had were the many technical manuals that were also so very boring. The tech books were heavily locked down as the government sanctioned documents were definitely not for public use. I literally couldn’t open them if there was another unauthorized person around me. It was meticulous and had a lot of stipulations. Of course I had read up on some of those as well. Being alone in a locked room for a half year was madness at best. aside from the first meeting, I was only let out twice. Both for odd scans and attempts at communication. They didn’t work out either way. A Hyper-Terminal Tekkard sounded great, but repairman was definitely closer to the truth. I was assigned to the Herzog Zwei Lane issue. This lane linked the MoO, The SoaSeR, and The Stellaris galaxies together. I would begin work in 28107 from MoO, and pop out in 28108 in Stellaris. Sure I would lose roughly a year of my life, but the government paid well and I would receive great perks. The Herzog Zwei Hyperlane, while relatively unpopular to the people, was very important for commerce. What I didn’t expect was to pop out to Stellaris and find nothing but a decayed Hyper Terminal that shattered as I exited. That was some exciting times as I was almost skewered by shrapnel, or baked by the explosion. The navigation system started to have an aneurism and the star charts followed right after I pulled them up to see if I was really in Stellaris. The ship AI crashed, twice, and I had to lock down the star map to prevent the old AL from locking up again. The old service AI was solid, but not very smart or powerful. Stellaris itself was broken, the yellow dwarf star was now a white dwarf. The entire system was lifeless. Four of its main planets were barren rock. Most likely victims of the yellow dwarf going super nova as it aged. Thrice. Or relatively lifeless as his emergency signals had attracted these scavengers. His supplies were running low, and there was simply no food to be found. The one surviving orbital station was a relay post and whoever maintained the rations had either forgotten to restock, or they were simply stolen. The onboard system could recycle liquid, but it couldn’t make healthy food from my own poop. The frozen meals were all I had. Enough for a year and a half. Which was lies since I barely got a year and a month out of them. I swore that if the Galactic Systems was still intact, I was going to lodge the largest formal complaint I could. Then these turtle people showed up, scanned me, and then placed me into their brig. Or I thought that it was a brig. Could have been a spare room. They also didn’t speak English, which made sense, just an odd language with clicks and hisses. The other two major languages, Spanish and Mandarin were also a bust. The world rumbled as the ship popped out of whatever. Hyper space was the most likely thing, but it took a lot of time for a yellow dwarf to go into its final white dwarf stage. Who knows what kind of tech existed now. Like billions of years. Which would also explain the extreme redshift that had almost crippled AL. The aliens had taken the ship but left it alone. I wondered if it was going to be torn apart, or sold. If I had travelled so far, then I wondered what modern man would look like. Evolution was a constant, but humans rarely saw it since our life spans were so short. Two, maybe three hundred years and off you went. My attention was yanked to the one door in the room. The hiss of hydraulics filled the room and echoed in my ears as the wide doors opened to admit three of the turtles. Two held guns. The universal long sticks that they held in their hands and a third that simply stood and beckoned me. I wished I could say that I recognized the thing, but really I didn’t. They all looked the same and I couldn’t tell the three apart aside from the fact that two had guns and one didn’t. I had tried to resist once. Just once. They had simply picked up me by my throat and easily dragged me out to a scanner bed. That had hurt. It had taken weeks for the bruises to heal. The next time they took me, I followed, and they simply interrogated me. They hiss and clicked and I tried to talk or mime things back. Yeah, that didn’t work. The fact that I also knew other languages seemed to trip them up. The sudden shift of my tone and method of speech riled them up. One of the gun-less things punched the wall in frustration and left a dent in the walls. It looked like metal walls. Yeah, I started to panic after that and they had to escort me back to my room. Today, they took me further then ever before. It was a long walk and at the end, I made it to the bridge. There was a larger, slouching turtle thing on a big bench. Their physiology made it simple. Big shell-like bodies meant no chairs, but benches with odd grooves. Human butts didn’t conform well. The blinking lights of a sphere caught my eye on the viewscreen. Digital as I was sure that they weren’t dumb enough to try out glass. One hyper jump and your ship would tear itself apart as the glass shrapnel, accelerated by high pressure, would allow it to tear into metal. A dull hum filled the bridge as the sphere beamed a light onto them. The screen showed it blue, but who knows what the real colour was. My hairs raised themselves as the beam most likely passed over me. The leader spoke loudly. His hisses deep and clicks loud. The other bridge crew began fiddling with knobs and levers. Which confused me. Who the hell used knob and levers on a ship in vacuum!? Then my handler picked me up. His dull claws simply found my sides and he lifted me up and placed me before a console. He pushed my face towards a mound of mesh and fabric. The communication officer…? Leaned forward and slowly made clicks and hisses while facing it. Oh. Was this a mic? “Uhhh, Hello?” I was very eloquent. [Hello.] was the eventual response. The words were clear from the bridge’s speakers. The soft voice belonged to a woman. The grip on me weakened and I guess that was encouragement. The dull, but probably dense claws left my head. “I am Jonathan Smith, Galactic Systems Tekkard. Uh, pleased to meet you?” [I am Alexa, systematic administrator. How may I help you, Jonathan Smith?] “I uhh, got rescued? From Stellaris. I am not sure what is going on. And can you get me out of here and back into Galactic Space?” I asked. Begged. Pleaded. I desperately wanted a hamburger. And a real, proper toilet. Not some rusty metal chute that opened from a wall. I was half shocked that I hadn’t gotten tetanus. Ooooh! Soft toilet paper. Not paper Mache type stuff. [Accessing… Johnathan Christopher Smith. Government Tekkard, hired 28079.] “I… what? Yeah… that’s me… how?” I stuttered as I blinked at the mic. The system knew me? Or rather, could find me? I knew that all records since the 9th millennium were hard coded into the databases, but there was a ton of people. I was also the 118th person in my family to be named Johnathan. There was a lot of us. [Understood. I will follow the proper protocols. Please do not be alarmed. Do no panic.] I immediately started to panic, as anyone would in my situation. Proper protocols were that they didn’t negotiate with terrorist, extremists, and criminals in general. Alexis began to click and hiss back. Which shocked the crew. My handler even let me go as he turned to the big boss and they quickly, and excitedly The sphere floated up, and shed more blue light onto the ship. My hairs rose once more as I felt a tingle started from my spine and it quickly spread across my body. I twitched one. Twice. And felt the world compress around me.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	Yan checked his watch. He was almost definitely going to be late. Pulling out his ComDev he sent a message to his team. - 'Running late. HPod in 2. Start WO me.' The familiar electronic scream of the ascending HyperPod came suddenly into the station as usual yet still, twelve years after the introduction of the HyperLanes Yan still bristled with excitement. He still struggled to comprehend how his journey to work had gone from 95 minutes down to 11. The innovation was simply unfathomable, yet here it was. There had been so many questions about safety. About cost. About everything. The HyperLanes had an almost perfect track record. The only incidents being caused by people, rather than malfunctions. Yan stepped in to the HyperPod and took a seat, noticing how unusually quiet the Pods were this morning. The departure warning chimed and the lights dimmed, in preparation of their departure. The door closed and the Pod began its descent down into the HyperLane. With a flash and a slightly uncharacteristic shudder, the Pod vanished. Yan's ComDev suddenly burst in to life. The device display told him he had several thousand missed connections and messages. Several thousand. He had just started to check the first, when the woman cried. Turning to look at her, his attention was taken by a dark, ruins of a station the Pod had arrived at. Jumping out of his seat and leaping out of the door, Yan surveyed the oddly unfamiliar scene. It was Monument alright, just as he'd expected, yet it wasn't. The arrival of the Pod, along with Yan's leap onto the bay landing had disturbed a settled layer of dust and debris that looked as though it hadn't been touched in a thousand years. The rest of the passengers emerged, bewildered by the sight of the station that now presented itself. Yan stepped back into the Pos and pulled out his ComDev. Scanning the messages, they all carried the same theme. - 'Where are you?'. Yan tried connecting to his wife but the ComDev was unresponsive. He tried a further 3 people before he realised it was hopeless. Checking the messages again, he jumped to the bottom of the list and saw that the date it was sent was 780,000 years ago. How could this be? There was a huge, flash of bright white light and Yan, along with the passengers were restrained and bundled into the back of a vehicle and then there was silence. ----- 'Khallar!', Jogo screamed. 'KHALLAR! A Pod arrived. A Pod!'. 'Khallar turned, incredulously telling Jogo to 'fuck off'. 'No. really. Just now at Monument. We sent a unit in immediately.' Khallar stood, suddenly anxious about the apparent arrival. Could the myths and legends be true? Could they really be descended from Humanity? Jogo's eyes glazed over as he received a Nuro-Message. When he came round, he looked up into Khallar's eyes and said quietly, 'There are 6. 6 humans.'. Khallar saw the excitement and fear in his eyes. Was this really happening?	I, the 118th Johnathan Christopher Smith, chewed on the foodstuff before me. The bland, mold green jello was neither tasty, fresh, or appetizing. It crumbled against my tongue before oozing down my throat. The fact that I was starving was the only reason that I ate. The provided water however was clean and so very delicious in comparison. I was initially afraid of poison, but now I was half hoping it was so that I could just die and be done with these horrible meals. I leaned back against the walls of the cell. The cell itself wasn’t impressive. A ten by ten cubic metered cell coloured in a rust hued grey. With little else to do I measured things since it killed an hour. The bed was a wonderful two-meter by six-meter plastic lined mesh. The ship belonged to my ‘rescuers’. An alien species that was an odd looking half turtle, half lizard people. They were large, ungainly, and so very well armed. They obviously didn’t subscribe to the Illumite Treaty of the Galactic Systems. Survivors of derelict ships were not to be treated like prisoners without due process. Not that I was sure there was even a Galactic System of Planets anymore. I sighed as I struggled down a mouthful of processed crap. I leaned back on the bed as I nursed my bottle of water. The gourd was round and was obviously meant for hand much larger then my own. With a though, I accessed my internal systems. The dated OS was mandated by the government and had to be manually switched at authorised terminals. Which meant that my entertainment was limited to the dozen magazines I had been excited to read. Along with another dozen books that filled up the very limited internal storage allotted for personal use. I had already read everything before I was ‘rescued’ and re-reading everything as a prisoner added a dark twist to everything. The only other things I had were the many technical manuals that were also so very boring. The tech books were heavily locked down as the government sanctioned documents were definitely not for public use. I literally couldn’t open them if there was another unauthorized person around me. It was meticulous and had a lot of stipulations. Of course I had read up on some of those as well. Being alone in a locked room for a half year was madness at best. aside from the first meeting, I was only let out twice. Both for odd scans and attempts at communication. They didn’t work out either way. A Hyper-Terminal Tekkard sounded great, but repairman was definitely closer to the truth. I was assigned to the Herzog Zwei Lane issue. This lane linked the MoO, The SoaSeR, and The Stellaris galaxies together. I would begin work in 28107 from MoO, and pop out in 28108 in Stellaris. Sure I would lose roughly a year of my life, but the government paid well and I would receive great perks. The Herzog Zwei Hyperlane, while relatively unpopular to the people, was very important for commerce. What I didn’t expect was to pop out to Stellaris and find nothing but a decayed Hyper Terminal that shattered as I exited. That was some exciting times as I was almost skewered by shrapnel, or baked by the explosion. The navigation system started to have an aneurism and the star charts followed right after I pulled them up to see if I was really in Stellaris. The ship AI crashed, twice, and I had to lock down the star map to prevent the old AL from locking up again. The old service AI was solid, but not very smart or powerful. Stellaris itself was broken, the yellow dwarf star was now a white dwarf. The entire system was lifeless. Four of its main planets were barren rock. Most likely victims of the yellow dwarf going super nova as it aged. Thrice. Or relatively lifeless as his emergency signals had attracted these scavengers. His supplies were running low, and there was simply no food to be found. The one surviving orbital station was a relay post and whoever maintained the rations had either forgotten to restock, or they were simply stolen. The onboard system could recycle liquid, but it couldn’t make healthy food from my own poop. The frozen meals were all I had. Enough for a year and a half. Which was lies since I barely got a year and a month out of them. I swore that if the Galactic Systems was still intact, I was going to lodge the largest formal complaint I could. Then these turtle people showed up, scanned me, and then placed me into their brig. Or I thought that it was a brig. Could have been a spare room. They also didn’t speak English, which made sense, just an odd language with clicks and hisses. The other two major languages, Spanish and Mandarin were also a bust. The world rumbled as the ship popped out of whatever. Hyper space was the most likely thing, but it took a lot of time for a yellow dwarf to go into its final white dwarf stage. Who knows what kind of tech existed now. Like billions of years. Which would also explain the extreme redshift that had almost crippled AL. The aliens had taken the ship but left it alone. I wondered if it was going to be torn apart, or sold. If I had travelled so far, then I wondered what modern man would look like. Evolution was a constant, but humans rarely saw it since our life spans were so short. Two, maybe three hundred years and off you went. My attention was yanked to the one door in the room. The hiss of hydraulics filled the room and echoed in my ears as the wide doors opened to admit three of the turtles. Two held guns. The universal long sticks that they held in their hands and a third that simply stood and beckoned me. I wished I could say that I recognized the thing, but really I didn’t. They all looked the same and I couldn’t tell the three apart aside from the fact that two had guns and one didn’t. I had tried to resist once. Just once. They had simply picked up me by my throat and easily dragged me out to a scanner bed. That had hurt. It had taken weeks for the bruises to heal. The next time they took me, I followed, and they simply interrogated me. They hiss and clicked and I tried to talk or mime things back. Yeah, that didn’t work. The fact that I also knew other languages seemed to trip them up. The sudden shift of my tone and method of speech riled them up. One of the gun-less things punched the wall in frustration and left a dent in the walls. It looked like metal walls. Yeah, I started to panic after that and they had to escort me back to my room. Today, they took me further then ever before. It was a long walk and at the end, I made it to the bridge. There was a larger, slouching turtle thing on a big bench. Their physiology made it simple. Big shell-like bodies meant no chairs, but benches with odd grooves. Human butts didn’t conform well. The blinking lights of a sphere caught my eye on the viewscreen. Digital as I was sure that they weren’t dumb enough to try out glass. One hyper jump and your ship would tear itself apart as the glass shrapnel, accelerated by high pressure, would allow it to tear into metal. A dull hum filled the bridge as the sphere beamed a light onto them. The screen showed it blue, but who knows what the real colour was. My hairs raised themselves as the beam most likely passed over me. The leader spoke loudly. His hisses deep and clicks loud. The other bridge crew began fiddling with knobs and levers. Which confused me. Who the hell used knob and levers on a ship in vacuum!? Then my handler picked me up. His dull claws simply found my sides and he lifted me up and placed me before a console. He pushed my face towards a mound of mesh and fabric. The communication officer…? Leaned forward and slowly made clicks and hisses while facing it. Oh. Was this a mic? “Uhhh, Hello?” I was very eloquent. [Hello.] was the eventual response. The words were clear from the bridge’s speakers. The soft voice belonged to a woman. The grip on me weakened and I guess that was encouragement. The dull, but probably dense claws left my head. “I am Jonathan Smith, Galactic Systems Tekkard. Uh, pleased to meet you?” [I am Alexa, systematic administrator. How may I help you, Jonathan Smith?] “I uhh, got rescued? From Stellaris. I am not sure what is going on. And can you get me out of here and back into Galactic Space?” I asked. Begged. Pleaded. I desperately wanted a hamburger. And a real, proper toilet. Not some rusty metal chute that opened from a wall. I was half shocked that I hadn’t gotten tetanus. Ooooh! Soft toilet paper. Not paper Mache type stuff. [Accessing… Johnathan Christopher Smith. Government Tekkard, hired 28079.] “I… what? Yeah… that’s me… how?” I stuttered as I blinked at the mic. The system knew me? Or rather, could find me? I knew that all records since the 9th millennium were hard coded into the databases, but there was a ton of people. I was also the 118th person in my family to be named Johnathan. There was a lot of us. [Understood. I will follow the proper protocols. Please do not be alarmed. Do no panic.] I immediately started to panic, as anyone would in my situation. Proper protocols were that they didn’t negotiate with terrorist, extremists, and criminals in general. Alexis began to click and hiss back. Which shocked the crew. My handler even let me go as he turned to the big boss and they quickly, and excitedly The sphere floated up, and shed more blue light onto the ship. My hairs rose once more as I felt a tingle started from my spine and it quickly spread across my body. I twitched one. Twice. And felt the world compress around me.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	"How do you feel?" "Serena... how are you feeling please, talk to me." Ever since they dragged me here into the grand ol' NY FTL Spaceport, I've been trying my damn near hardest to control myself from unleashing all this raw, pent up fury I've had for whichever shitheaded idiot of a counselor decided to give my parents the stupid advice of shipping their only daughter 100 light years away to who knows where... or when. She should know exactly how I feel I thought, how would she have felt.. if the only people she'd thought would accept her, despite the deserted anomaly she was, had gotten out of bed one day and decided to do what everyone else had done to her for the entire 13 years she'd been alive... alienate her. "Please stop. Just stop", I barely croak out with my wet face buried underneath the jacket she'd gotten me precisely a year ago for my 12th birthday. Ever since then, I can say with bitter confidence that the past year has been the worst year of my life. "Stop talking to me please" "Serena I-", "NO!" I snap, "Shutup!, just shut. Up. Don't even bother spending your money on a DSN Comm for me, I don't ever want to hear the sound of you or Dad's voice ever... again. I will never forgive you. If you want me to at least pretend to feel bad that I may never get to see you guys again for the next few decades or maybe even ever, you can start by explaining why you're shipping me off the entire planet- no.. galaxy" "I- I don't get it" Now I'm barely muttering words through sloppy sobs. My parents are old. My dad, is 376 years and my mom I'd say is around her 350s but she'd never say exactly. FLT travel is usually for working class triple-centenarians who would sacrifice a family life or even any regular life for the sake of wealth, spying on the Andromedes or the search for spinfoam minerals in distant galaxies. Each jump is 20 light years, meaning, a round trip for one jump would mean that everyone here on Earth would get 40 years older while the jumper stayed relatively ageless. With any amount of jumps higher than 5, you can kiss your Earthly life bye bye, no one you care about will be alive or recognizable if you decide to come back. Which is why I felt utterly betrayed when I read that my ticket said 6 jumps. "How could you guys do this" I say getting riled up again. "I'm already too scared to go an airplane, plus-" "Serena thats enough!" My dad echoes, emerging from the end of the hallway. From the look on his face I can tell. It's time. He squats down to meet my gaze the same way he's done countless times before when he'd try and comfort me when I'd be severely shaken from my night terrors that would sometimes wake the neighborhood. "I'm sorry cariña, but we can't tell you much ok?" "What? What are you even-" "Serena...listen.. " "Remember how you knew that your mother was pregnant before we could even find out for ourselves? Or how you knew that your teacher was an undercover Andromede?" I nod my head. "Just as how you know now that I'm telling the truth when I say that we love you, and that you will see us again." Now I'm crying a mess. He was telling the truth. "Serena, you must know, that there are some very bad people, that are like you and will *know* if either your mother and I tell you the actual reason you need to be on this flight or very bad things will happen, do you understand?" "Y-Yes" I croak. "I understand" "Please Serena trust us, we will see each other again." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “So.. ok, Captainnn...? “Nesci” “Yes, Captain Nesci, first off, I would like to thank you sir for contributing your life to countless light years of service. Now. I’m sure you can understand why we all are confused by your story, or, the second part of it at least. You seem to be fairly intact… Um, given, that you are claiming that your ship had been and I quote: Yanked out of the 4th jump, which in turn, killed half the passengers on board from G-forces, putting you in an impossible situation in which you decided to make a ‘necessary’ rough landing in an enemy quadrant, on a planet that had been inhabited by cephalopod like creatures” “Is that correct?” “You’re damn right”, I say before raising my cup to let the bitter taste of liquid I was given run its course down my throat. “Captain, I’m aware your ship was hijacked, yes this is a fact, but it still doesn’t explain why you didn’t send a distress signal of your coordinates as soon as you left the Hyperflow. And not to mention, you had 5 kids on board, which is an automatic violation of protocol for anyone on course for more than four jumps. On top of that you decided to land in a quadrant claimed by Andromeda Rule which is another automatic violation, one punishable by Inception. “You fellas are really wasting your time, there are still passengers on that planet with those.. Things. And every second you take to question my over what? 4000 light years of experience, those passengers, those kids have less of a chance to survive in that Mover forsaken place. Those ugly ass creatures approached us but I managed to empty a few rounds into a few of them, enough, to scare em off” I say remembering the devilish squeals that those little things belched out in agony. The deputy and his men all threw twisted glances of confusion at each other. “Captain we have your passengers, they are safe. We have all but two women, a man and an adolescent male, besides the other 40 passengers who died due to the G-forces like you said” “Ha! Very well, why the hell are you questioning me for then? Why don’t you just extract the q-memories from one of the children so that you can see for yourselves what went down?” “Um sir.. We did” The voice came from the corner of the room. A young scrawny feller, couldn’t be past his first century from the look of his height compared to all the grown folk in the room. He sat down next to the deputy and pulled out a tablet. “What is this?” “Uh these are q-memories from a 13 year old passenger named Serena Brodmann Mr. Nesci, but before I show you what we extracted you must know that we have carefully analyzed the data enough to confirm that these q-memories are indeed legitimate. This is roughly 40 minutes after impact, exactly 5 minutes before our people came to recover your people and what was left of your ship” He presses play. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- First there’s smoke. The screen jolts abruptly to the rhythm of a sound that can only be the little girl going through a coughing fit. The first two minutes consist of her digging herself out the rubble with a surprising amount of strength. She looks up to admire a sky that is not much like the one she’s familiar with. This one had 2 red stars each sharing the same horizon that sat on a golden colored stratosphere. “Whoa” I hear echo from the tablet. 2 minutes left. She’s walking now on green colored sand, toward what seems to be a little pale skinned boy, staring at her with eyes widened with awe. I don’t remember this passenger I thought. “Are you okay?” She asks him. “Human”, he says. “Being of Noise. Old, very old” She takes his hand and starts running fast towards a growing dot in the distance that can only be ship of the cavalry that I’m in the company of now. 30 seconds left. “What is your name?” She asks him “Name name” he says cheerfully while trying to keep her pace. Then I see it. As she passes more rubble I see my bloody face in the distance. I’m clutching the emergency rifle tightly as it viscously shakes with the kickback from all the rounds I allow it to unleash. She doesn’t stop to watch but instead continues her sprint with the boy to the rescue ship. Before either of them saw it coming the boys body is violiently torn apart by an immense force of which could only be from a Grade A antimatter cannon. The very same one the girl saw that I was holding.	"Vampire! Vampire! Vampire! Incoming missiles straight up our stern." "Cut thrust, slew the ship 90 degrees and roll us. Put the raw materials bunkers between us and the engines. They won't have time for a second volley before we can jump." The ship lurched uncomfortably, even under the relatively low G of a skip and roll. Saem barely coped with g shifts in one direction, two made the lieutenant nauseated. "Roll complete," announced the shipyard delivery pilot. The cease to the gutwrenching movement made this perfectly clear, but the situation didn't lend itself to criticism. Missiles slammed into the Jupiter two breaths later. Iron and nickel spilled from ruptured metal storage bunkets and particles ranging from microscopic to attack-craft in size clouded the sensors. Hundreds of tonnes of debris swirled and pelted the ship across the length of the hull, triggering secondary explosions. The Jupiter shuddered noticeably, but with less force than had just upset Saem's breakfast. Even high-explosive warheads barely nudged a Creator-class fleet auxiliary ship into a 0.3g roll. "18 seconds out from the jump gate, lieutenant," the pilot reminded Saem, though she spoken quietly. Saem shook his head. He'd just almost smeared a new-build gigatonne ship against a jump gate because of an armed navigation buoy, and was about to do it again because he'd pointed his ship the wrong way. "Bring us around," ordered Saem. "I... can't." The hushed tone from previously made its origin known. The secondary explosions, even now punctuating the ship had severed power conduits to the gyros. They were positioned as near aa possible to the ship's centre of mass: right below the metals bunkers. The only force moving the Jupiter was the slight spin imparted by the missile impact. The pilot left the bridge, muttering about the military delivering its own ships. The Jupiter crossed the jump gate threshold facing mostly the wrong way. Only 1.8% of the drive had been spun into a useful position by the missiles' transferred intertia. It saved the lives of the 17 shipyard delivery workers on board the Jupiter. --- The Jupiter spent 7 weeks travelling 93 lightyears distance. The shipyard crew onboard the ship had put in overtime, having barely slept, programming the necessary repairs into the automated bots. The ship had power to almost every gyro before leaving jump. --- "Jump exit in 5..." Jupiter emerged from the gate in an entirely unremarkable part of space, which was both relieving and terrifying for Saem. There were no missiles here on the one hand, but the outer gas planet the gate was supposed to be orbiting being conspicuously absent did not reassure him. He gave the pilot 'the look'. --- Jupiter began active scanning of the space around them. They found the gas giant eventually; it had moved. The stars had moved too. The entire galaxy had shifted, the positioning of the spiral arms had made all old and familiar constellations extinct. --- Days later; sensor data started to trickle back from the incredibly distant inner system. Basic information at first. The star system was still here, but its version of here was still jarring to Saem and the pilot. More refined sensor data followed, but with anomalous radiation. JOKE ENDING. I need to sleep. When decrypted the radiation turned out to be an audio visual feed. A purple, vaguely humanoid, alien wore a black jacket, which seemed to be a visual acknowledgement of rank. The message started. "Ayyyyy." The alien said, while crudely recreating a... double thumbs up?
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	Yan checked his watch. He was almost definitely going to be late. Pulling out his ComDev he sent a message to his team. - 'Running late. HPod in 2. Start WO me.' The familiar electronic scream of the ascending HyperPod came suddenly into the station as usual yet still, twelve years after the introduction of the HyperLanes Yan still bristled with excitement. He still struggled to comprehend how his journey to work had gone from 95 minutes down to 11. The innovation was simply unfathomable, yet here it was. There had been so many questions about safety. About cost. About everything. The HyperLanes had an almost perfect track record. The only incidents being caused by people, rather than malfunctions. Yan stepped in to the HyperPod and took a seat, noticing how unusually quiet the Pods were this morning. The departure warning chimed and the lights dimmed, in preparation of their departure. The door closed and the Pod began its descent down into the HyperLane. With a flash and a slightly uncharacteristic shudder, the Pod vanished. Yan's ComDev suddenly burst in to life. The device display told him he had several thousand missed connections and messages. Several thousand. He had just started to check the first, when the woman cried. Turning to look at her, his attention was taken by a dark, ruins of a station the Pod had arrived at. Jumping out of his seat and leaping out of the door, Yan surveyed the oddly unfamiliar scene. It was Monument alright, just as he'd expected, yet it wasn't. The arrival of the Pod, along with Yan's leap onto the bay landing had disturbed a settled layer of dust and debris that looked as though it hadn't been touched in a thousand years. The rest of the passengers emerged, bewildered by the sight of the station that now presented itself. Yan stepped back into the Pos and pulled out his ComDev. Scanning the messages, they all carried the same theme. - 'Where are you?'. Yan tried connecting to his wife but the ComDev was unresponsive. He tried a further 3 people before he realised it was hopeless. Checking the messages again, he jumped to the bottom of the list and saw that the date it was sent was 780,000 years ago. How could this be? There was a huge, flash of bright white light and Yan, along with the passengers were restrained and bundled into the back of a vehicle and then there was silence. ----- 'Khallar!', Jogo screamed. 'KHALLAR! A Pod arrived. A Pod!'. 'Khallar turned, incredulously telling Jogo to 'fuck off'. 'No. really. Just now at Monument. We sent a unit in immediately.' Khallar stood, suddenly anxious about the apparent arrival. Could the myths and legends be true? Could they really be descended from Humanity? Jogo's eyes glazed over as he received a Nuro-Message. When he came round, he looked up into Khallar's eyes and said quietly, 'There are 6. 6 humans.'. Khallar saw the excitement and fear in his eyes. Was this really happening?	"Vampire! Vampire! Vampire! Incoming missiles straight up our stern." "Cut thrust, slew the ship 90 degrees and roll us. Put the raw materials bunkers between us and the engines. They won't have time for a second volley before we can jump." The ship lurched uncomfortably, even under the relatively low G of a skip and roll. Saem barely coped with g shifts in one direction, two made the lieutenant nauseated. "Roll complete," announced the shipyard delivery pilot. The cease to the gutwrenching movement made this perfectly clear, but the situation didn't lend itself to criticism. Missiles slammed into the Jupiter two breaths later. Iron and nickel spilled from ruptured metal storage bunkets and particles ranging from microscopic to attack-craft in size clouded the sensors. Hundreds of tonnes of debris swirled and pelted the ship across the length of the hull, triggering secondary explosions. The Jupiter shuddered noticeably, but with less force than had just upset Saem's breakfast. Even high-explosive warheads barely nudged a Creator-class fleet auxiliary ship into a 0.3g roll. "18 seconds out from the jump gate, lieutenant," the pilot reminded Saem, though she spoken quietly. Saem shook his head. He'd just almost smeared a new-build gigatonne ship against a jump gate because of an armed navigation buoy, and was about to do it again because he'd pointed his ship the wrong way. "Bring us around," ordered Saem. "I... can't." The hushed tone from previously made its origin known. The secondary explosions, even now punctuating the ship had severed power conduits to the gyros. They were positioned as near aa possible to the ship's centre of mass: right below the metals bunkers. The only force moving the Jupiter was the slight spin imparted by the missile impact. The pilot left the bridge, muttering about the military delivering its own ships. The Jupiter crossed the jump gate threshold facing mostly the wrong way. Only 1.8% of the drive had been spun into a useful position by the missiles' transferred intertia. It saved the lives of the 17 shipyard delivery workers on board the Jupiter. --- The Jupiter spent 7 weeks travelling 93 lightyears distance. The shipyard crew onboard the ship had put in overtime, having barely slept, programming the necessary repairs into the automated bots. The ship had power to almost every gyro before leaving jump. --- "Jump exit in 5..." Jupiter emerged from the gate in an entirely unremarkable part of space, which was both relieving and terrifying for Saem. There were no missiles here on the one hand, but the outer gas planet the gate was supposed to be orbiting being conspicuously absent did not reassure him. He gave the pilot 'the look'. --- Jupiter began active scanning of the space around them. They found the gas giant eventually; it had moved. The stars had moved too. The entire galaxy had shifted, the positioning of the spiral arms had made all old and familiar constellations extinct. --- Days later; sensor data started to trickle back from the incredibly distant inner system. Basic information at first. The star system was still here, but its version of here was still jarring to Saem and the pilot. More refined sensor data followed, but with anomalous radiation. JOKE ENDING. I need to sleep. When decrypted the radiation turned out to be an audio visual feed. A purple, vaguely humanoid, alien wore a black jacket, which seemed to be a visual acknowledgement of rank. The message started. "Ayyyyy." The alien said, while crudely recreating a... double thumbs up?
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	Time is relative, isn't it? That's what they always say when you go into piloting class but it never struck me as something that would affect me just getting my basic piloting degree. I wasn't planning on going into extra-dimensional spaces, or fly at light speeds for too long, I just wanted to spend a few years of my life to get an easy job working for basic shippers and get good benefits and never worry about money again. Not a glamorous life, but one that was satisfying at least. But now that's not going to happen. Don't ask me how it happened, I thought I found a shortcut through the Bi-Cemeterial center, I would have gotten a decent size bonus if I got there before the deadline, but I obviously didn't. The entire experience was strange, gravitational waves harder than I have ever felt them, I knew the Hyperlane was broken but I thought it would be fine. It apparently wasn't fine. So now I'm here, about fifty thousand years after humanity died out. Not even the Solarians survived this long, despite there immortality. Have no fear, I am not alone, I am accompanied by what I like to call the Eye Children. I have no idea if they are some evolved form of human or some alien creature we haven't discovered back a few thousand years, but they are here and they see me as a sort of god. I don't know much about history, but they remind me of humanity at the beginning of the twentieth century. They seem to know what the Hyperlanes were, but they have no idea about how they work and how to make them work. This is kind of unfortunate because I detected traces of the Malevolence sub light ships. Of course, the Malevolence would still be around, but I am not sure they are as powerful as they were back then. I am guessing some sort of massive galactic wide event happened which either destroyed almost everyone and eradicated several species. Anyway, I have no idea but I believe I have to prepare this species to face the Malevolence if they ever come despite me not knowing anything about the hyperlanes, my ship, gravitational manipulation. I can't even speak to these people and I somehow have to save them all. They see us as gods, and now they know the truth, half of us where stupid freeloaders. I don't know, maybe I'm being too cynical, maybe that Hyperlane brake did something to me maybe it did something to the universe. Oh god, the timelines match up. -End of Emergency Temporal Quantum Message-	We sent our first few ships amongst the stars, following in the wake left behind by our precursor after they saw fit to grant us intelligence for a purpose that cryptically say will be reveal to later. Yet even as we replace iron with steel, fire with plasma, and hyperlane with hyperdrive just as our precursor once did, they never return to reveal what our purpose is. We scour the stars, met many others who are given the intelligence as we do yet not all share our reverance or our curiosity for our long-gone saviour. And just as in history we too wonder whether they war we waged with our others too made its mark upon our precursor's histories. That their long absence despite their still standing structures and tomes of digital knowledge was caused not by a mysterious event but, war. Yet even the fire of curiosity fades replaced by the irresistible lure of peace. So have we found peace amongst ourselves so to did we believe somewhere in this vast galaxy, our precursor had found peace amongst themselves. Or so we thought. An anomaly rips through space and time with it our whiskers stiffen and ears twitch as our precursor finds it fit to finally grant us the answer we long crave. For it is not the scientific vessel nor the peaceful envoys we had long expected from them, but a warship larger than a small moon with weaponry searching for targets. They have come alone, and yet they what gave us our lives now hunger to reclaim it back.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	They found him in the Aquartis Conglomerate. Their oozing stalks perked up as they saw the derelict ship on their plascreen. There was noise coming from the things, but it was clear to anyone listening that they were communicating. They knew that this patch of the Transmat Network was damaged, and had been for a long time; at least fifteen galactic Aeon Units. They attempted to hail the ship using the Neuranet, but to no avail. They were chittering amogst themselves when they saw abn ancient holdover blinking at the screen of one of the officers. The aliens pushed a button, and the hail appeared on the plascreen. "Hello?" a thickly accented voice came through. On the screen, a dark-skinned woman appeared, dyed red hair in a tight ponytail and whipcord muscle showing through the clothing. The Neuranet was frantically searching the databanks on the Net to translate from the heavily-accented English. "Can you guys hear me? I am the only survivor of the Omicron Persiei Incident. We didn't get there in time, and had to evacuate through the early Transmatter network, but our interstellar clock was knocked offline, as was our power. We're nearing the end of the backups, and only have an hour before our LS systems go offline. "We need help here. Please respond." There was frantic communication across the bridge of the starhip Ghnk m'Klse, a Nova-class starship by Galactic standards - primitive, but with everything needed to defend itself in low-end combat. The one in the centre turned to the plascreen, clearly indicating that the Neuranet was to interpret and translate its collection of grunts, squeaks and sighs. "Good day to you, Fleshling. WE can assist you in this matter." There was a pause, as the Neuranet flashed up a Red alert on the Captain's personal HUDscreen. The Omicron Persiei Incident had taken place a long time ago - so much that it was basically a footnote in the greater history of the Galaxies. There was a moment of silence, and then the captain hushed the bridge compeltely. "You are the Prophesied One, the Legacy and the Future. Speak your name, Human." The screen flickered, as the transmission over the radio frequency, almost extinct in this age, was compensated. "I am coming to you now, and my engineers will aid you in your endeavor, Prophesied One." She sighed in relief. She hadn't noticed the four corpses strapped into the other seats, but the captain definitely had. She nodded. "Okay, I'll send you our docking codes now. Be advised - our entry was hot, and I don't know about the rest of the crew." She looked around, gasped in horror, and unstrapped herself out of the chair with the twin-stick navigation system. A single tear fell from her left eye. She turned around, the tear tracking its way down her cheek. "My name is Ororo !XDidi. I await your team. Ororo out." The plascreen went back to the view of the ship from the outside. there was frantic communication on the ship before a hacking, coughing roar stopped all discussion. The captain pointed to three members, and spoke in a fierce vocalisation. The four people left the bridge of the ship, and three of the aliens sent back communiques to HQ. The news was momentous. The Prophesied One had arrived. The Primus Race had returned....for now.	We sent our first few ships amongst the stars, following in the wake left behind by our precursor after they saw fit to grant us intelligence for a purpose that cryptically say will be reveal to later. Yet even as we replace iron with steel, fire with plasma, and hyperlane with hyperdrive just as our precursor once did, they never return to reveal what our purpose is. We scour the stars, met many others who are given the intelligence as we do yet not all share our reverance or our curiosity for our long-gone saviour. And just as in history we too wonder whether they war we waged with our others too made its mark upon our precursor's histories. That their long absence despite their still standing structures and tomes of digital knowledge was caused not by a mysterious event but, war. Yet even the fire of curiosity fades replaced by the irresistible lure of peace. So have we found peace amongst ourselves so to did we believe somewhere in this vast galaxy, our precursor had found peace amongst themselves. Or so we thought. An anomaly rips through space and time with it our whiskers stiffen and ears twitch as our precursor finds it fit to finally grant us the answer we long crave. For it is not the scientific vessel nor the peaceful envoys we had long expected from them, but a warship larger than a small moon with weaponry searching for targets. They have come alone, and yet they what gave us our lives now hunger to reclaim it back.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates. I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right? In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore. So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things. Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net. Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good. "Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod. "Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice. "Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that." "Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance." "Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise." "You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert." The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said. "So hey, you remember that thruster variance?" "You're shitting me." "I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it." The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow. "It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog." "Can't you process all of those?" "Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?" "Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?" "If this math is right, then...well you should check." A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen. "Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?" "Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked. "Yeah, let's get this over with."	We sent our first few ships amongst the stars, following in the wake left behind by our precursor after they saw fit to grant us intelligence for a purpose that cryptically say will be reveal to later. Yet even as we replace iron with steel, fire with plasma, and hyperlane with hyperdrive just as our precursor once did, they never return to reveal what our purpose is. We scour the stars, met many others who are given the intelligence as we do yet not all share our reverance or our curiosity for our long-gone saviour. And just as in history we too wonder whether they war we waged with our others too made its mark upon our precursor's histories. That their long absence despite their still standing structures and tomes of digital knowledge was caused not by a mysterious event but, war. Yet even the fire of curiosity fades replaced by the irresistible lure of peace. So have we found peace amongst ourselves so to did we believe somewhere in this vast galaxy, our precursor had found peace amongst themselves. Or so we thought. An anomaly rips through space and time with it our whiskers stiffen and ears twitch as our precursor finds it fit to finally grant us the answer we long crave. For it is not the scientific vessel nor the peaceful envoys we had long expected from them, but a warship larger than a small moon with weaponry searching for targets. They have come alone, and yet they what gave us our lives now hunger to reclaim it back.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The glow from the instrument panel permeated his eyelids. The soft, familiar orange light accompanied by the proximity alarms drew him back to conciousness. “Engine core 55% depletion. Warning. Collision. Warning. Collision. Warning…” With a start, Lucas Davian sat upright and ripped the goggles off his face. Panic building, he put both hands on the throttle controls and slammed the light transport into reverse. Julia, the ship, groaned in protest against its own forward inertia and began to slow. With just the slightest of a jolt, the nose of the craft tapped into the side of the derelict transit station, Julia's shields shrugging off the inconsequential love tap. wait, what? derelict? I was here just last week. Rubbing his eyes, Lucas stared out the cockpit window at the station. Visibility wasn't an issue, the bulbous cockpit screen automatically brightens dim images, has several zoom levels and wraps around both sides of the occupant to fill in peripheral vision. Visibility wasn't the issue, comprehension was. The transit station, once a lively hub bridging the Timelight (TL) lanes between Alpha Proxima and the Veritas System, was a corroded, twisted shell. The windows long since shattered or missing entirely. The solar resistant blue grey paint was worn to bare metal, and the station itself now seemed to resemble a gargantuan steel octopus with its many docking bridges stuck out in random directions where they had been knocked about by various debris and collisions. And there's no ships. Lucas realized he had never seen the busy hub without there being a frustratingly long docking line of various ships from all over the quadrants. Traders, smugglers, passenger liners, even some of the United Navy vessels would stop through if the John C Sherman highway was under maintenance. It made him uneasy. “Engine Core 55%” Oh right. Coolant and fuel. The Timelight system was notoriously hard on engines, and Julia wasn't exactly a shining example of modern tech. Since the Timelight rings sped up the passage of time to make long journeys more palatable, the wear on space faring vessels was equally increased. Julia was at the end of a 3 week journey which, adjusted for TL, was just about a year. So why was Christenson Hub… “Oh shit….” The words escaped his chapped lips of their own accord. Lucas's mind was spinning as he slowly flew around the decrepit hub station. Realization was setting in, and the outlook was grim. “Command not recognized.” “Julia, what's today's date?” “It is January 22nd, Earth year 5244. You have 214 missed events.” Oh god it cant be. “Julia,” his voice croaked, “what year is it?” “It is Earth year 5244.” “What the fuck do you mean, 5244? Julia, run system diagnostics.” After a brief whir of computer fans, Julia responded. “Systems check complete. Engine core 55%. Shields 100% Shield battery 75% all other systems nominal. For a detailed scan, say 'details’”. Lucas had left for his trip on February 1st. Earth year 2644. “Julia, plot a course for Trepidity Commerce Station.” “Station beacon not found. Would you like to plot a manual course?” Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 “Calm down.” Lucas's words had little effect on his racing thoughts, the heart beating out of his chest. “Command not recognized. Your heart rate is elevated at 185 bpm. Is medical attention desired?” “No. Julia, find any nearby stations with available docking rings.” “Scanning.” Still absent-mindedly flying around the hub station, Lucas's eyes were drawn to the small remnants of life around him. A Viper class sportscraft docked near the gift shop, both worn nearly beyond recognition. A Navy Vessel of unknown type split in half and corroding away near the fuel depot. Several large laser marks burned into its hull. Gaping holes in the stations wall, exposing wires and cables. It was not clear how much of the damage was caused by thousands of years of debris collisions, and how much was caused by explosions and laser fire. The station must've been attacked. With how much time had elapsed, Lucas supposed the station could've been attacked many times since he last saw it. Earth year 5244 “Julia, hold position. I need a drink.” “Confirmed. Enjoy your break, Lucas.” Lucas left the cockpit and thanked the inventor of the stasis field protecting his ship's interior from the accelerated time dilation of the TL lanes. Uncorking a bottle of Drevick Whiskey, he thanked the stasis field’s inventor a second time for protecting his booze and poured a glass while he pondered his circumstances. Julia had enough provisions for maybe another couple of months or so without rationing too hard. As he looked around the dining area connected to the cockpit by a short four step staircase, he noted the aluminum cabinets and shelves lining the bluesteel walls. Maybe more like a month. Setting his glass down on the oval shaped ironwood table, Lucas toyed with the idea of switching on his personal communicator. It would be pointless, of course, anyone with his contact information would be long dead, and the servers holding his messages would be as well. “Fuck it.” He turned it on and stared at the 'no signal’ dialogue box. Setting it down with a sigh, He decided to check the engine room, mostly just to stay occupied than anything else. The door to the engine room unsealed with a hiss and Lucas peered into the dimly lit maintenance hall from the dining area. Lucas walked down the dreary, rusty hall, grabbed his toolkit, and went to work on the engines. “Signal check complete. There are four unidentified dock-ready stations within fuel distance.” Lucas leaned back on his heels and set his toolkit beside him. Wiping the oil on his pants, and satisfied he had done as much as he could with the tools that he had, he stood. “Julia, check the engines again.” “Engines 59%” That's just going to have to be enough. “Julia, plot a course for the closest signal.” Working on part 2	We sent our first few ships amongst the stars, following in the wake left behind by our precursor after they saw fit to grant us intelligence for a purpose that cryptically say will be reveal to later. Yet even as we replace iron with steel, fire with plasma, and hyperlane with hyperdrive just as our precursor once did, they never return to reveal what our purpose is. We scour the stars, met many others who are given the intelligence as we do yet not all share our reverance or our curiosity for our long-gone saviour. And just as in history we too wonder whether they war we waged with our others too made its mark upon our precursor's histories. That their long absence despite their still standing structures and tomes of digital knowledge was caused not by a mysterious event but, war. Yet even the fire of curiosity fades replaced by the irresistible lure of peace. So have we found peace amongst ourselves so to did we believe somewhere in this vast galaxy, our precursor had found peace amongst themselves. Or so we thought. An anomaly rips through space and time with it our whiskers stiffen and ears twitch as our precursor finds it fit to finally grant us the answer we long crave. For it is not the scientific vessel nor the peaceful envoys we had long expected from them, but a warship larger than a small moon with weaponry searching for targets. They have come alone, and yet they what gave us our lives now hunger to reclaim it back.
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates. I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right? In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore. So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things. Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net. Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good. "Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod. "Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice. "Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that." "Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance." "Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise." "You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert." The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said. "So hey, you remember that thruster variance?" "You're shitting me." "I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it." The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow. "It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog." "Can't you process all of those?" "Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?" "Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?" "If this math is right, then...well you should check." A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen. "Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?" "Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked. "Yeah, let's get this over with."	"Wait, wait! That hyperlane doesn't work pro-" Too late. "Oops", the pilot exclaimed. "Oh, shit." the captain, O'Reilly, said with a regretful tone. "Captain! Look at the time!" said XO Barnes. The time on the digital clock was accelerating, thousands of times faster than it normally does while going through a hyperlane. Then a year passed. Two years. Three. All in the matter of a second. "How long are hyperlane trips supposed to last?" asked the Captain. "About 10 minutes. but we're in a longer one, so about 30." "Oh no." In a single minute, 180 years passed. By the end of a trip, it was no longer 2045. It was 7,445. Captain O'Reilly held his face in his hands for a minute after he landed, unprepared for what could be outside the ship's door. XO Barnes checked the GPS. "Hmm... Seems its updated since we were last here. Significantly." "What planet have we landed on?" "Earth." Captain O'Reilly punched in the code to open the door. The giant metal door slid open, with no sign of aging since 2045. Immediately he was greeted by a crowd of over 200 aliens. One of them walked up to the Captain, pressed some buttons on a remote, and spoke in perfect English. "You must be a human! Wow! I thought they all died!" "Excuse me?" "Well, all of us know about World War 3 in 2089 that ended in nearly your entire planet being nuked, and almost all humans dying!" O'Reilly turns to Barnes and says, "Looks like we missed the memo." He turns back to the alien and says, "Everything looks mighty clean for being nuked." "Well, it's been over 5,000 years. That gave us a lot of time to fix up your planet. How did you survive the war anyway?" "We didn't. We weren't there." "What?" "That hyperlane we j-" "Hyperlane? You mean the Old Rails?" "... We called them hyperlanes. Anyway, that one was malfunctioning, and we ended up taking 5,400 years to arrive, rather than 10 minutes." "Oh. I see. Well, anyway, you're the only humans left. I hope there are others on your ship, so maybe your species can survive." "We'll see about that. So, how about the grand tour?" "Yes, right this way."
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The glow from the instrument panel permeated his eyelids. The soft, familiar orange light accompanied by the proximity alarms drew him back to conciousness. “Engine core 55% depletion. Warning. Collision. Warning. Collision. Warning…” With a start, Lucas Davian sat upright and ripped the goggles off his face. Panic building, he put both hands on the throttle controls and slammed the light transport into reverse. Julia, the ship, groaned in protest against its own forward inertia and began to slow. With just the slightest of a jolt, the nose of the craft tapped into the side of the derelict transit station, Julia's shields shrugging off the inconsequential love tap. wait, what? derelict? I was here just last week. Rubbing his eyes, Lucas stared out the cockpit window at the station. Visibility wasn't an issue, the bulbous cockpit screen automatically brightens dim images, has several zoom levels and wraps around both sides of the occupant to fill in peripheral vision. Visibility wasn't the issue, comprehension was. The transit station, once a lively hub bridging the Timelight (TL) lanes between Alpha Proxima and the Veritas System, was a corroded, twisted shell. The windows long since shattered or missing entirely. The solar resistant blue grey paint was worn to bare metal, and the station itself now seemed to resemble a gargantuan steel octopus with its many docking bridges stuck out in random directions where they had been knocked about by various debris and collisions. And there's no ships. Lucas realized he had never seen the busy hub without there being a frustratingly long docking line of various ships from all over the quadrants. Traders, smugglers, passenger liners, even some of the United Navy vessels would stop through if the John C Sherman highway was under maintenance. It made him uneasy. “Engine Core 55%” Oh right. Coolant and fuel. The Timelight system was notoriously hard on engines, and Julia wasn't exactly a shining example of modern tech. Since the Timelight rings sped up the passage of time to make long journeys more palatable, the wear on space faring vessels was equally increased. Julia was at the end of a 3 week journey which, adjusted for TL, was just about a year. So why was Christenson Hub… “Oh shit….” The words escaped his chapped lips of their own accord. Lucas's mind was spinning as he slowly flew around the decrepit hub station. Realization was setting in, and the outlook was grim. “Command not recognized.” “Julia, what's today's date?” “It is January 22nd, Earth year 5244. You have 214 missed events.” Oh god it cant be. “Julia,” his voice croaked, “what year is it?” “It is Earth year 5244.” “What the fuck do you mean, 5244? Julia, run system diagnostics.” After a brief whir of computer fans, Julia responded. “Systems check complete. Engine core 55%. Shields 100% Shield battery 75% all other systems nominal. For a detailed scan, say 'details’”. Lucas had left for his trip on February 1st. Earth year 2644. “Julia, plot a course for Trepidity Commerce Station.” “Station beacon not found. Would you like to plot a manual course?” Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 “Calm down.” Lucas's words had little effect on his racing thoughts, the heart beating out of his chest. “Command not recognized. Your heart rate is elevated at 185 bpm. Is medical attention desired?” “No. Julia, find any nearby stations with available docking rings.” “Scanning.” Still absent-mindedly flying around the hub station, Lucas's eyes were drawn to the small remnants of life around him. A Viper class sportscraft docked near the gift shop, both worn nearly beyond recognition. A Navy Vessel of unknown type split in half and corroding away near the fuel depot. Several large laser marks burned into its hull. Gaping holes in the stations wall, exposing wires and cables. It was not clear how much of the damage was caused by thousands of years of debris collisions, and how much was caused by explosions and laser fire. The station must've been attacked. With how much time had elapsed, Lucas supposed the station could've been attacked many times since he last saw it. Earth year 5244 “Julia, hold position. I need a drink.” “Confirmed. Enjoy your break, Lucas.” Lucas left the cockpit and thanked the inventor of the stasis field protecting his ship's interior from the accelerated time dilation of the TL lanes. Uncorking a bottle of Drevick Whiskey, he thanked the stasis field’s inventor a second time for protecting his booze and poured a glass while he pondered his circumstances. Julia had enough provisions for maybe another couple of months or so without rationing too hard. As he looked around the dining area connected to the cockpit by a short four step staircase, he noted the aluminum cabinets and shelves lining the bluesteel walls. Maybe more like a month. Setting his glass down on the oval shaped ironwood table, Lucas toyed with the idea of switching on his personal communicator. It would be pointless, of course, anyone with his contact information would be long dead, and the servers holding his messages would be as well. “Fuck it.” He turned it on and stared at the 'no signal’ dialogue box. Setting it down with a sigh, He decided to check the engine room, mostly just to stay occupied than anything else. The door to the engine room unsealed with a hiss and Lucas peered into the dimly lit maintenance hall from the dining area. Lucas walked down the dreary, rusty hall, grabbed his toolkit, and went to work on the engines. “Signal check complete. There are four unidentified dock-ready stations within fuel distance.” Lucas leaned back on his heels and set his toolkit beside him. Wiping the oil on his pants, and satisfied he had done as much as he could with the tools that he had, he stood. “Julia, check the engines again.” “Engines 59%” That's just going to have to be enough. “Julia, plot a course for the closest signal.” Working on part 2	"Wait, wait! That hyperlane doesn't work pro-" Too late. "Oops", the pilot exclaimed. "Oh, shit." the captain, O'Reilly, said with a regretful tone. "Captain! Look at the time!" said XO Barnes. The time on the digital clock was accelerating, thousands of times faster than it normally does while going through a hyperlane. Then a year passed. Two years. Three. All in the matter of a second. "How long are hyperlane trips supposed to last?" asked the Captain. "About 10 minutes. but we're in a longer one, so about 30." "Oh no." In a single minute, 180 years passed. By the end of a trip, it was no longer 2045. It was 7,445. Captain O'Reilly held his face in his hands for a minute after he landed, unprepared for what could be outside the ship's door. XO Barnes checked the GPS. "Hmm... Seems its updated since we were last here. Significantly." "What planet have we landed on?" "Earth." Captain O'Reilly punched in the code to open the door. The giant metal door slid open, with no sign of aging since 2045. Immediately he was greeted by a crowd of over 200 aliens. One of them walked up to the Captain, pressed some buttons on a remote, and spoke in perfect English. "You must be a human! Wow! I thought they all died!" "Excuse me?" "Well, all of us know about World War 3 in 2089 that ended in nearly your entire planet being nuked, and almost all humans dying!" O'Reilly turns to Barnes and says, "Looks like we missed the memo." He turns back to the alien and says, "Everything looks mighty clean for being nuked." "Well, it's been over 5,000 years. That gave us a lot of time to fix up your planet. How did you survive the war anyway?" "We didn't. We weren't there." "What?" "That hyperlane we j-" "Hyperlane? You mean the Old Rails?" "... We called them hyperlanes. Anyway, that one was malfunctioning, and we ended up taking 5,400 years to arrive, rather than 10 minutes." "Oh. I see. Well, anyway, you're the only humans left. I hope there are others on your ship, so maybe your species can survive." "We'll see about that. So, how about the grand tour?" "Yes, right this way."
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	They found him in the Aquartis Conglomerate. Their oozing stalks perked up as they saw the derelict ship on their plascreen. There was noise coming from the things, but it was clear to anyone listening that they were communicating. They knew that this patch of the Transmat Network was damaged, and had been for a long time; at least fifteen galactic Aeon Units. They attempted to hail the ship using the Neuranet, but to no avail. They were chittering amogst themselves when they saw abn ancient holdover blinking at the screen of one of the officers. The aliens pushed a button, and the hail appeared on the plascreen. "Hello?" a thickly accented voice came through. On the screen, a dark-skinned woman appeared, dyed red hair in a tight ponytail and whipcord muscle showing through the clothing. The Neuranet was frantically searching the databanks on the Net to translate from the heavily-accented English. "Can you guys hear me? I am the only survivor of the Omicron Persiei Incident. We didn't get there in time, and had to evacuate through the early Transmatter network, but our interstellar clock was knocked offline, as was our power. We're nearing the end of the backups, and only have an hour before our LS systems go offline. "We need help here. Please respond." There was frantic communication across the bridge of the starhip Ghnk m'Klse, a Nova-class starship by Galactic standards - primitive, but with everything needed to defend itself in low-end combat. The one in the centre turned to the plascreen, clearly indicating that the Neuranet was to interpret and translate its collection of grunts, squeaks and sighs. "Good day to you, Fleshling. WE can assist you in this matter." There was a pause, as the Neuranet flashed up a Red alert on the Captain's personal HUDscreen. The Omicron Persiei Incident had taken place a long time ago - so much that it was basically a footnote in the greater history of the Galaxies. There was a moment of silence, and then the captain hushed the bridge compeltely. "You are the Prophesied One, the Legacy and the Future. Speak your name, Human." The screen flickered, as the transmission over the radio frequency, almost extinct in this age, was compensated. "I am coming to you now, and my engineers will aid you in your endeavor, Prophesied One." She sighed in relief. She hadn't noticed the four corpses strapped into the other seats, but the captain definitely had. She nodded. "Okay, I'll send you our docking codes now. Be advised - our entry was hot, and I don't know about the rest of the crew." She looked around, gasped in horror, and unstrapped herself out of the chair with the twin-stick navigation system. A single tear fell from her left eye. She turned around, the tear tracking its way down her cheek. "My name is Ororo !XDidi. I await your team. Ororo out." The plascreen went back to the view of the ship from the outside. there was frantic communication on the ship before a hacking, coughing roar stopped all discussion. The captain pointed to three members, and spoke in a fierce vocalisation. The four people left the bridge of the ship, and three of the aliens sent back communiques to HQ. The news was momentous. The Prophesied One had arrived. The Primus Race had returned....for now.	Time is relative, isn't it? That's what they always say when you go into piloting class but it never struck me as something that would affect me just getting my basic piloting degree. I wasn't planning on going into extra-dimensional spaces, or fly at light speeds for too long, I just wanted to spend a few years of my life to get an easy job working for basic shippers and get good benefits and never worry about money again. Not a glamorous life, but one that was satisfying at least. But now that's not going to happen. Don't ask me how it happened, I thought I found a shortcut through the Bi-Cemeterial center, I would have gotten a decent size bonus if I got there before the deadline, but I obviously didn't. The entire experience was strange, gravitational waves harder than I have ever felt them, I knew the Hyperlane was broken but I thought it would be fine. It apparently wasn't fine. So now I'm here, about fifty thousand years after humanity died out. Not even the Solarians survived this long, despite there immortality. Have no fear, I am not alone, I am accompanied by what I like to call the Eye Children. I have no idea if they are some evolved form of human or some alien creature we haven't discovered back a few thousand years, but they are here and they see me as a sort of god. I don't know much about history, but they remind me of humanity at the beginning of the twentieth century. They seem to know what the Hyperlanes were, but they have no idea about how they work and how to make them work. This is kind of unfortunate because I detected traces of the Malevolence sub light ships. Of course, the Malevolence would still be around, but I am not sure they are as powerful as they were back then. I am guessing some sort of massive galactic wide event happened which either destroyed almost everyone and eradicated several species. Anyway, I have no idea but I believe I have to prepare this species to face the Malevolence if they ever come despite me not knowing anything about the hyperlanes, my ship, gravitational manipulation. I can't even speak to these people and I somehow have to save them all. They see us as gods, and now they know the truth, half of us where stupid freeloaders. I don't know, maybe I'm being too cynical, maybe that Hyperlane brake did something to me maybe it did something to the universe. Oh god, the timelines match up. -End of Emergency Temporal Quantum Message-
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates. I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right? In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore. So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things. Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net. Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good. "Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod. "Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice. "Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that." "Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance." "Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise." "You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert." The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said. "So hey, you remember that thruster variance?" "You're shitting me." "I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it." The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow. "It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog." "Can't you process all of those?" "Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?" "Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?" "If this math is right, then...well you should check." A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen. "Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?" "Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked. "Yeah, let's get this over with."	Time is relative, isn't it? That's what they always say when you go into piloting class but it never struck me as something that would affect me just getting my basic piloting degree. I wasn't planning on going into extra-dimensional spaces, or fly at light speeds for too long, I just wanted to spend a few years of my life to get an easy job working for basic shippers and get good benefits and never worry about money again. Not a glamorous life, but one that was satisfying at least. But now that's not going to happen. Don't ask me how it happened, I thought I found a shortcut through the Bi-Cemeterial center, I would have gotten a decent size bonus if I got there before the deadline, but I obviously didn't. The entire experience was strange, gravitational waves harder than I have ever felt them, I knew the Hyperlane was broken but I thought it would be fine. It apparently wasn't fine. So now I'm here, about fifty thousand years after humanity died out. Not even the Solarians survived this long, despite there immortality. Have no fear, I am not alone, I am accompanied by what I like to call the Eye Children. I have no idea if they are some evolved form of human or some alien creature we haven't discovered back a few thousand years, but they are here and they see me as a sort of god. I don't know much about history, but they remind me of humanity at the beginning of the twentieth century. They seem to know what the Hyperlanes were, but they have no idea about how they work and how to make them work. This is kind of unfortunate because I detected traces of the Malevolence sub light ships. Of course, the Malevolence would still be around, but I am not sure they are as powerful as they were back then. I am guessing some sort of massive galactic wide event happened which either destroyed almost everyone and eradicated several species. Anyway, I have no idea but I believe I have to prepare this species to face the Malevolence if they ever come despite me not knowing anything about the hyperlanes, my ship, gravitational manipulation. I can't even speak to these people and I somehow have to save them all. They see us as gods, and now they know the truth, half of us where stupid freeloaders. I don't know, maybe I'm being too cynical, maybe that Hyperlane brake did something to me maybe it did something to the universe. Oh god, the timelines match up. -End of Emergency Temporal Quantum Message-
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The glow from the instrument panel permeated his eyelids. The soft, familiar orange light accompanied by the proximity alarms drew him back to conciousness. “Engine core 55% depletion. Warning. Collision. Warning. Collision. Warning…” With a start, Lucas Davian sat upright and ripped the goggles off his face. Panic building, he put both hands on the throttle controls and slammed the light transport into reverse. Julia, the ship, groaned in protest against its own forward inertia and began to slow. With just the slightest of a jolt, the nose of the craft tapped into the side of the derelict transit station, Julia's shields shrugging off the inconsequential love tap. wait, what? derelict? I was here just last week. Rubbing his eyes, Lucas stared out the cockpit window at the station. Visibility wasn't an issue, the bulbous cockpit screen automatically brightens dim images, has several zoom levels and wraps around both sides of the occupant to fill in peripheral vision. Visibility wasn't the issue, comprehension was. The transit station, once a lively hub bridging the Timelight (TL) lanes between Alpha Proxima and the Veritas System, was a corroded, twisted shell. The windows long since shattered or missing entirely. The solar resistant blue grey paint was worn to bare metal, and the station itself now seemed to resemble a gargantuan steel octopus with its many docking bridges stuck out in random directions where they had been knocked about by various debris and collisions. And there's no ships. Lucas realized he had never seen the busy hub without there being a frustratingly long docking line of various ships from all over the quadrants. Traders, smugglers, passenger liners, even some of the United Navy vessels would stop through if the John C Sherman highway was under maintenance. It made him uneasy. “Engine Core 55%” Oh right. Coolant and fuel. The Timelight system was notoriously hard on engines, and Julia wasn't exactly a shining example of modern tech. Since the Timelight rings sped up the passage of time to make long journeys more palatable, the wear on space faring vessels was equally increased. Julia was at the end of a 3 week journey which, adjusted for TL, was just about a year. So why was Christenson Hub… “Oh shit….” The words escaped his chapped lips of their own accord. Lucas's mind was spinning as he slowly flew around the decrepit hub station. Realization was setting in, and the outlook was grim. “Command not recognized.” “Julia, what's today's date?” “It is January 22nd, Earth year 5244. You have 214 missed events.” Oh god it cant be. “Julia,” his voice croaked, “what year is it?” “It is Earth year 5244.” “What the fuck do you mean, 5244? Julia, run system diagnostics.” After a brief whir of computer fans, Julia responded. “Systems check complete. Engine core 55%. Shields 100% Shield battery 75% all other systems nominal. For a detailed scan, say 'details’”. Lucas had left for his trip on February 1st. Earth year 2644. “Julia, plot a course for Trepidity Commerce Station.” “Station beacon not found. Would you like to plot a manual course?” Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 “Calm down.” Lucas's words had little effect on his racing thoughts, the heart beating out of his chest. “Command not recognized. Your heart rate is elevated at 185 bpm. Is medical attention desired?” “No. Julia, find any nearby stations with available docking rings.” “Scanning.” Still absent-mindedly flying around the hub station, Lucas's eyes were drawn to the small remnants of life around him. A Viper class sportscraft docked near the gift shop, both worn nearly beyond recognition. A Navy Vessel of unknown type split in half and corroding away near the fuel depot. Several large laser marks burned into its hull. Gaping holes in the stations wall, exposing wires and cables. It was not clear how much of the damage was caused by thousands of years of debris collisions, and how much was caused by explosions and laser fire. The station must've been attacked. With how much time had elapsed, Lucas supposed the station could've been attacked many times since he last saw it. Earth year 5244 “Julia, hold position. I need a drink.” “Confirmed. Enjoy your break, Lucas.” Lucas left the cockpit and thanked the inventor of the stasis field protecting his ship's interior from the accelerated time dilation of the TL lanes. Uncorking a bottle of Drevick Whiskey, he thanked the stasis field’s inventor a second time for protecting his booze and poured a glass while he pondered his circumstances. Julia had enough provisions for maybe another couple of months or so without rationing too hard. As he looked around the dining area connected to the cockpit by a short four step staircase, he noted the aluminum cabinets and shelves lining the bluesteel walls. Maybe more like a month. Setting his glass down on the oval shaped ironwood table, Lucas toyed with the idea of switching on his personal communicator. It would be pointless, of course, anyone with his contact information would be long dead, and the servers holding his messages would be as well. “Fuck it.” He turned it on and stared at the 'no signal’ dialogue box. Setting it down with a sigh, He decided to check the engine room, mostly just to stay occupied than anything else. The door to the engine room unsealed with a hiss and Lucas peered into the dimly lit maintenance hall from the dining area. Lucas walked down the dreary, rusty hall, grabbed his toolkit, and went to work on the engines. “Signal check complete. There are four unidentified dock-ready stations within fuel distance.” Lucas leaned back on his heels and set his toolkit beside him. Wiping the oil on his pants, and satisfied he had done as much as he could with the tools that he had, he stood. “Julia, check the engines again.” “Engines 59%” That's just going to have to be enough. “Julia, plot a course for the closest signal.” Working on part 2	Time is relative, isn't it? That's what they always say when you go into piloting class but it never struck me as something that would affect me just getting my basic piloting degree. I wasn't planning on going into extra-dimensional spaces, or fly at light speeds for too long, I just wanted to spend a few years of my life to get an easy job working for basic shippers and get good benefits and never worry about money again. Not a glamorous life, but one that was satisfying at least. But now that's not going to happen. Don't ask me how it happened, I thought I found a shortcut through the Bi-Cemeterial center, I would have gotten a decent size bonus if I got there before the deadline, but I obviously didn't. The entire experience was strange, gravitational waves harder than I have ever felt them, I knew the Hyperlane was broken but I thought it would be fine. It apparently wasn't fine. So now I'm here, about fifty thousand years after humanity died out. Not even the Solarians survived this long, despite there immortality. Have no fear, I am not alone, I am accompanied by what I like to call the Eye Children. I have no idea if they are some evolved form of human or some alien creature we haven't discovered back a few thousand years, but they are here and they see me as a sort of god. I don't know much about history, but they remind me of humanity at the beginning of the twentieth century. They seem to know what the Hyperlanes were, but they have no idea about how they work and how to make them work. This is kind of unfortunate because I detected traces of the Malevolence sub light ships. Of course, the Malevolence would still be around, but I am not sure they are as powerful as they were back then. I am guessing some sort of massive galactic wide event happened which either destroyed almost everyone and eradicated several species. Anyway, I have no idea but I believe I have to prepare this species to face the Malevolence if they ever come despite me not knowing anything about the hyperlanes, my ship, gravitational manipulation. I can't even speak to these people and I somehow have to save them all. They see us as gods, and now they know the truth, half of us where stupid freeloaders. I don't know, maybe I'm being too cynical, maybe that Hyperlane brake did something to me maybe it did something to the universe. Oh god, the timelines match up. -End of Emergency Temporal Quantum Message-
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	They found him in the Aquartis Conglomerate. Their oozing stalks perked up as they saw the derelict ship on their plascreen. There was noise coming from the things, but it was clear to anyone listening that they were communicating. They knew that this patch of the Transmat Network was damaged, and had been for a long time; at least fifteen galactic Aeon Units. They attempted to hail the ship using the Neuranet, but to no avail. They were chittering amogst themselves when they saw abn ancient holdover blinking at the screen of one of the officers. The aliens pushed a button, and the hail appeared on the plascreen. "Hello?" a thickly accented voice came through. On the screen, a dark-skinned woman appeared, dyed red hair in a tight ponytail and whipcord muscle showing through the clothing. The Neuranet was frantically searching the databanks on the Net to translate from the heavily-accented English. "Can you guys hear me? I am the only survivor of the Omicron Persiei Incident. We didn't get there in time, and had to evacuate through the early Transmatter network, but our interstellar clock was knocked offline, as was our power. We're nearing the end of the backups, and only have an hour before our LS systems go offline. "We need help here. Please respond." There was frantic communication across the bridge of the starhip Ghnk m'Klse, a Nova-class starship by Galactic standards - primitive, but with everything needed to defend itself in low-end combat. The one in the centre turned to the plascreen, clearly indicating that the Neuranet was to interpret and translate its collection of grunts, squeaks and sighs. "Good day to you, Fleshling. WE can assist you in this matter." There was a pause, as the Neuranet flashed up a Red alert on the Captain's personal HUDscreen. The Omicron Persiei Incident had taken place a long time ago - so much that it was basically a footnote in the greater history of the Galaxies. There was a moment of silence, and then the captain hushed the bridge compeltely. "You are the Prophesied One, the Legacy and the Future. Speak your name, Human." The screen flickered, as the transmission over the radio frequency, almost extinct in this age, was compensated. "I am coming to you now, and my engineers will aid you in your endeavor, Prophesied One." She sighed in relief. She hadn't noticed the four corpses strapped into the other seats, but the captain definitely had. She nodded. "Okay, I'll send you our docking codes now. Be advised - our entry was hot, and I don't know about the rest of the crew." She looked around, gasped in horror, and unstrapped herself out of the chair with the twin-stick navigation system. A single tear fell from her left eye. She turned around, the tear tracking its way down her cheek. "My name is Ororo !XDidi. I await your team. Ororo out." The plascreen went back to the view of the ship from the outside. there was frantic communication on the ship before a hacking, coughing roar stopped all discussion. The captain pointed to three members, and spoke in a fierce vocalisation. The four people left the bridge of the ship, and three of the aliens sent back communiques to HQ. The news was momentous. The Prophesied One had arrived. The Primus Race had returned....for now.	'Look kid, I'm gonna explain this once, so pay attention. About 600 years ago, the Global Contract got tired of interstellar traffic taking decades. We're innovators, so we stole the Paranti seeds from the Ghabari. Then we shot them at every conceivable place we'd want to visit. Like tens of thousands of them. Maybe hundreds of thousands. The nice thing about Paranti seeds is you know if it works. If it grows, it worked. If it doesn't, then it failed. Its kind of like those old old comm systems the junker ships use, using... ah, fuck, you, know, those light cable things...' 'Fiber optic?' 'Yeah, those. I mean, who still uses those? Anyway, it's like that, but with Insten boosters. You shoot the seed and they catch it on the other end and attach the seed, and it... fuck, it expands like from memory or some shit. I can't watch it, it's like it materializes from nothing. Fucking creepy shit. There's some weird science behind it, I dont know. We shoot it, and when it arrives it's ready to go. You step into a portal and you are on the lunar colony. 5 steps in a different one, and you are orbiting Alpha Centauri. It just takes so fucking long for the seeds to arrive, cause everything just has to be non stop from home. Would be faster to build a line, shoot a new one, but fucking corporate, heads up their asses. Testing these, I've been to Betelgeuse, AC, Aldebaran, Sirius, well, that doesn't count, who HASN'T been to Sirius? Been to Bellatrix, even Acrab and Regulus - I been places you never heard of. Have you ever even heard of Phecda? Well, I've been there! There's a theory that the farther a seed travels, the more interference it gets to its genetics, because it is a living thing, and we can only shoot them so fast. Took fucking 600 years for this seed to fly out here. Every year new seeds attach in farther and farther places, and we've been having problems with that interference. I've been trying to tell them to just shoot a new seed from an existing portal, this nonstop shit is just stupid. It's ok to make 5 stops, but they won't listen. So, peons that we are, we got assigned shit duty: testing this new line to the Salamandi system. 955 billion light years from home. And sure enough, its all fucked up. I mean, it could be worse, we could have died. But no, we walked out of a dead portal. Here's the really fucked part of it: They've known it was dead for 7 million years. But no one at home knows. All they are going to know is that we went in, and never arrived. So they'll send another team, and another, until they give up and hang an 'Out of Order' sign on the portal. Maybe those teams'll arrive here and now. Maybe not. Probably not. So here we are, kid. We walked into the portal, and instead of walking out in Salamandi at the same time, it seems we left home 7 or 8 million years ago. What's a million years when you are this far away from home, in both time and space? Stuck 7 million years in the fucking future. Apparently our kind were extinct for the past 6 million of those years. We're fucking specimens, kid. An-fucking-tiques! And as near as I can tell from communicating with the locals, even though we've been extinct for 6 million years, we are still hated everywhere. Don't ask me why. If I had to guess, we've always been assholes to each other, and I guess we were assholes to everyone else in the nebulas. They got sick of it, banded together and went to war and killed us off. And now we're back. They don't seem too pleased with that. But look on the bright side, kid. We can't ever go extinct, cause we'll be popping out of dead portals for the next 5 billion years! What galactic assholes we are! I'll betcha kendons to kollesses we'll end up taking over the universe again!'
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates. I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right? In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore. So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things. Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net. Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good. "Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod. "Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice. "Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that." "Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance." "Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise." "You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert." The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said. "So hey, you remember that thruster variance?" "You're shitting me." "I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it." The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow. "It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog." "Can't you process all of those?" "Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?" "Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?" "If this math is right, then...well you should check." A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen. "Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?" "Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked. "Yeah, let's get this over with."	'Look kid, I'm gonna explain this once, so pay attention. About 600 years ago, the Global Contract got tired of interstellar traffic taking decades. We're innovators, so we stole the Paranti seeds from the Ghabari. Then we shot them at every conceivable place we'd want to visit. Like tens of thousands of them. Maybe hundreds of thousands. The nice thing about Paranti seeds is you know if it works. If it grows, it worked. If it doesn't, then it failed. Its kind of like those old old comm systems the junker ships use, using... ah, fuck, you, know, those light cable things...' 'Fiber optic?' 'Yeah, those. I mean, who still uses those? Anyway, it's like that, but with Insten boosters. You shoot the seed and they catch it on the other end and attach the seed, and it... fuck, it expands like from memory or some shit. I can't watch it, it's like it materializes from nothing. Fucking creepy shit. There's some weird science behind it, I dont know. We shoot it, and when it arrives it's ready to go. You step into a portal and you are on the lunar colony. 5 steps in a different one, and you are orbiting Alpha Centauri. It just takes so fucking long for the seeds to arrive, cause everything just has to be non stop from home. Would be faster to build a line, shoot a new one, but fucking corporate, heads up their asses. Testing these, I've been to Betelgeuse, AC, Aldebaran, Sirius, well, that doesn't count, who HASN'T been to Sirius? Been to Bellatrix, even Acrab and Regulus - I been places you never heard of. Have you ever even heard of Phecda? Well, I've been there! There's a theory that the farther a seed travels, the more interference it gets to its genetics, because it is a living thing, and we can only shoot them so fast. Took fucking 600 years for this seed to fly out here. Every year new seeds attach in farther and farther places, and we've been having problems with that interference. I've been trying to tell them to just shoot a new seed from an existing portal, this nonstop shit is just stupid. It's ok to make 5 stops, but they won't listen. So, peons that we are, we got assigned shit duty: testing this new line to the Salamandi system. 955 billion light years from home. And sure enough, its all fucked up. I mean, it could be worse, we could have died. But no, we walked out of a dead portal. Here's the really fucked part of it: They've known it was dead for 7 million years. But no one at home knows. All they are going to know is that we went in, and never arrived. So they'll send another team, and another, until they give up and hang an 'Out of Order' sign on the portal. Maybe those teams'll arrive here and now. Maybe not. Probably not. So here we are, kid. We walked into the portal, and instead of walking out in Salamandi at the same time, it seems we left home 7 or 8 million years ago. What's a million years when you are this far away from home, in both time and space? Stuck 7 million years in the fucking future. Apparently our kind were extinct for the past 6 million of those years. We're fucking specimens, kid. An-fucking-tiques! And as near as I can tell from communicating with the locals, even though we've been extinct for 6 million years, we are still hated everywhere. Don't ask me why. If I had to guess, we've always been assholes to each other, and I guess we were assholes to everyone else in the nebulas. They got sick of it, banded together and went to war and killed us off. And now we're back. They don't seem too pleased with that. But look on the bright side, kid. We can't ever go extinct, cause we'll be popping out of dead portals for the next 5 billion years! What galactic assholes we are! I'll betcha kendons to kollesses we'll end up taking over the universe again!'
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The glow from the instrument panel permeated his eyelids. The soft, familiar orange light accompanied by the proximity alarms drew him back to conciousness. “Engine core 55% depletion. Warning. Collision. Warning. Collision. Warning…” With a start, Lucas Davian sat upright and ripped the goggles off his face. Panic building, he put both hands on the throttle controls and slammed the light transport into reverse. Julia, the ship, groaned in protest against its own forward inertia and began to slow. With just the slightest of a jolt, the nose of the craft tapped into the side of the derelict transit station, Julia's shields shrugging off the inconsequential love tap. wait, what? derelict? I was here just last week. Rubbing his eyes, Lucas stared out the cockpit window at the station. Visibility wasn't an issue, the bulbous cockpit screen automatically brightens dim images, has several zoom levels and wraps around both sides of the occupant to fill in peripheral vision. Visibility wasn't the issue, comprehension was. The transit station, once a lively hub bridging the Timelight (TL) lanes between Alpha Proxima and the Veritas System, was a corroded, twisted shell. The windows long since shattered or missing entirely. The solar resistant blue grey paint was worn to bare metal, and the station itself now seemed to resemble a gargantuan steel octopus with its many docking bridges stuck out in random directions where they had been knocked about by various debris and collisions. And there's no ships. Lucas realized he had never seen the busy hub without there being a frustratingly long docking line of various ships from all over the quadrants. Traders, smugglers, passenger liners, even some of the United Navy vessels would stop through if the John C Sherman highway was under maintenance. It made him uneasy. “Engine Core 55%” Oh right. Coolant and fuel. The Timelight system was notoriously hard on engines, and Julia wasn't exactly a shining example of modern tech. Since the Timelight rings sped up the passage of time to make long journeys more palatable, the wear on space faring vessels was equally increased. Julia was at the end of a 3 week journey which, adjusted for TL, was just about a year. So why was Christenson Hub… “Oh shit….” The words escaped his chapped lips of their own accord. Lucas's mind was spinning as he slowly flew around the decrepit hub station. Realization was setting in, and the outlook was grim. “Command not recognized.” “Julia, what's today's date?” “It is January 22nd, Earth year 5244. You have 214 missed events.” Oh god it cant be. “Julia,” his voice croaked, “what year is it?” “It is Earth year 5244.” “What the fuck do you mean, 5244? Julia, run system diagnostics.” After a brief whir of computer fans, Julia responded. “Systems check complete. Engine core 55%. Shields 100% Shield battery 75% all other systems nominal. For a detailed scan, say 'details’”. Lucas had left for his trip on February 1st. Earth year 2644. “Julia, plot a course for Trepidity Commerce Station.” “Station beacon not found. Would you like to plot a manual course?” Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 “Calm down.” Lucas's words had little effect on his racing thoughts, the heart beating out of his chest. “Command not recognized. Your heart rate is elevated at 185 bpm. Is medical attention desired?” “No. Julia, find any nearby stations with available docking rings.” “Scanning.” Still absent-mindedly flying around the hub station, Lucas's eyes were drawn to the small remnants of life around him. A Viper class sportscraft docked near the gift shop, both worn nearly beyond recognition. A Navy Vessel of unknown type split in half and corroding away near the fuel depot. Several large laser marks burned into its hull. Gaping holes in the stations wall, exposing wires and cables. It was not clear how much of the damage was caused by thousands of years of debris collisions, and how much was caused by explosions and laser fire. The station must've been attacked. With how much time had elapsed, Lucas supposed the station could've been attacked many times since he last saw it. Earth year 5244 “Julia, hold position. I need a drink.” “Confirmed. Enjoy your break, Lucas.” Lucas left the cockpit and thanked the inventor of the stasis field protecting his ship's interior from the accelerated time dilation of the TL lanes. Uncorking a bottle of Drevick Whiskey, he thanked the stasis field’s inventor a second time for protecting his booze and poured a glass while he pondered his circumstances. Julia had enough provisions for maybe another couple of months or so without rationing too hard. As he looked around the dining area connected to the cockpit by a short four step staircase, he noted the aluminum cabinets and shelves lining the bluesteel walls. Maybe more like a month. Setting his glass down on the oval shaped ironwood table, Lucas toyed with the idea of switching on his personal communicator. It would be pointless, of course, anyone with his contact information would be long dead, and the servers holding his messages would be as well. “Fuck it.” He turned it on and stared at the 'no signal’ dialogue box. Setting it down with a sigh, He decided to check the engine room, mostly just to stay occupied than anything else. The door to the engine room unsealed with a hiss and Lucas peered into the dimly lit maintenance hall from the dining area. Lucas walked down the dreary, rusty hall, grabbed his toolkit, and went to work on the engines. “Signal check complete. There are four unidentified dock-ready stations within fuel distance.” Lucas leaned back on his heels and set his toolkit beside him. Wiping the oil on his pants, and satisfied he had done as much as he could with the tools that he had, he stood. “Julia, check the engines again.” “Engines 59%” That's just going to have to be enough. “Julia, plot a course for the closest signal.” Working on part 2	'Look kid, I'm gonna explain this once, so pay attention. About 600 years ago, the Global Contract got tired of interstellar traffic taking decades. We're innovators, so we stole the Paranti seeds from the Ghabari. Then we shot them at every conceivable place we'd want to visit. Like tens of thousands of them. Maybe hundreds of thousands. The nice thing about Paranti seeds is you know if it works. If it grows, it worked. If it doesn't, then it failed. Its kind of like those old old comm systems the junker ships use, using... ah, fuck, you, know, those light cable things...' 'Fiber optic?' 'Yeah, those. I mean, who still uses those? Anyway, it's like that, but with Insten boosters. You shoot the seed and they catch it on the other end and attach the seed, and it... fuck, it expands like from memory or some shit. I can't watch it, it's like it materializes from nothing. Fucking creepy shit. There's some weird science behind it, I dont know. We shoot it, and when it arrives it's ready to go. You step into a portal and you are on the lunar colony. 5 steps in a different one, and you are orbiting Alpha Centauri. It just takes so fucking long for the seeds to arrive, cause everything just has to be non stop from home. Would be faster to build a line, shoot a new one, but fucking corporate, heads up their asses. Testing these, I've been to Betelgeuse, AC, Aldebaran, Sirius, well, that doesn't count, who HASN'T been to Sirius? Been to Bellatrix, even Acrab and Regulus - I been places you never heard of. Have you ever even heard of Phecda? Well, I've been there! There's a theory that the farther a seed travels, the more interference it gets to its genetics, because it is a living thing, and we can only shoot them so fast. Took fucking 600 years for this seed to fly out here. Every year new seeds attach in farther and farther places, and we've been having problems with that interference. I've been trying to tell them to just shoot a new seed from an existing portal, this nonstop shit is just stupid. It's ok to make 5 stops, but they won't listen. So, peons that we are, we got assigned shit duty: testing this new line to the Salamandi system. 955 billion light years from home. And sure enough, its all fucked up. I mean, it could be worse, we could have died. But no, we walked out of a dead portal. Here's the really fucked part of it: They've known it was dead for 7 million years. But no one at home knows. All they are going to know is that we went in, and never arrived. So they'll send another team, and another, until they give up and hang an 'Out of Order' sign on the portal. Maybe those teams'll arrive here and now. Maybe not. Probably not. So here we are, kid. We walked into the portal, and instead of walking out in Salamandi at the same time, it seems we left home 7 or 8 million years ago. What's a million years when you are this far away from home, in both time and space? Stuck 7 million years in the fucking future. Apparently our kind were extinct for the past 6 million of those years. We're fucking specimens, kid. An-fucking-tiques! And as near as I can tell from communicating with the locals, even though we've been extinct for 6 million years, we are still hated everywhere. Don't ask me why. If I had to guess, we've always been assholes to each other, and I guess we were assholes to everyone else in the nebulas. They got sick of it, banded together and went to war and killed us off. And now we're back. They don't seem too pleased with that. But look on the bright side, kid. We can't ever go extinct, cause we'll be popping out of dead portals for the next 5 billion years! What galactic assholes we are! I'll betcha kendons to kollesses we'll end up taking over the universe again!'
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	They found him in the Aquartis Conglomerate. Their oozing stalks perked up as they saw the derelict ship on their plascreen. There was noise coming from the things, but it was clear to anyone listening that they were communicating. They knew that this patch of the Transmat Network was damaged, and had been for a long time; at least fifteen galactic Aeon Units. They attempted to hail the ship using the Neuranet, but to no avail. They were chittering amogst themselves when they saw abn ancient holdover blinking at the screen of one of the officers. The aliens pushed a button, and the hail appeared on the plascreen. "Hello?" a thickly accented voice came through. On the screen, a dark-skinned woman appeared, dyed red hair in a tight ponytail and whipcord muscle showing through the clothing. The Neuranet was frantically searching the databanks on the Net to translate from the heavily-accented English. "Can you guys hear me? I am the only survivor of the Omicron Persiei Incident. We didn't get there in time, and had to evacuate through the early Transmatter network, but our interstellar clock was knocked offline, as was our power. We're nearing the end of the backups, and only have an hour before our LS systems go offline. "We need help here. Please respond." There was frantic communication across the bridge of the starhip Ghnk m'Klse, a Nova-class starship by Galactic standards - primitive, but with everything needed to defend itself in low-end combat. The one in the centre turned to the plascreen, clearly indicating that the Neuranet was to interpret and translate its collection of grunts, squeaks and sighs. "Good day to you, Fleshling. WE can assist you in this matter." There was a pause, as the Neuranet flashed up a Red alert on the Captain's personal HUDscreen. The Omicron Persiei Incident had taken place a long time ago - so much that it was basically a footnote in the greater history of the Galaxies. There was a moment of silence, and then the captain hushed the bridge compeltely. "You are the Prophesied One, the Legacy and the Future. Speak your name, Human." The screen flickered, as the transmission over the radio frequency, almost extinct in this age, was compensated. "I am coming to you now, and my engineers will aid you in your endeavor, Prophesied One." She sighed in relief. She hadn't noticed the four corpses strapped into the other seats, but the captain definitely had. She nodded. "Okay, I'll send you our docking codes now. Be advised - our entry was hot, and I don't know about the rest of the crew." She looked around, gasped in horror, and unstrapped herself out of the chair with the twin-stick navigation system. A single tear fell from her left eye. She turned around, the tear tracking its way down her cheek. "My name is Ororo !XDidi. I await your team. Ororo out." The plascreen went back to the view of the ship from the outside. there was frantic communication on the ship before a hacking, coughing roar stopped all discussion. The captain pointed to three members, and spoke in a fierce vocalisation. The four people left the bridge of the ship, and three of the aliens sent back communiques to HQ. The news was momentous. The Prophesied One had arrived. The Primus Race had returned....for now.	I wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation. We were just one ship; they were dozens. Our tactical intelligence, TIM, reported fifty mass inverter cannons for every one of ours, and they had us well and truly surrounded. But the officer that had contacted us seemed, for lack of a better word, terrified. Myself, I was mostly just confused. Until about a minute ago, this had been a simple, routine trade run to one of the Rim colonies. I had expected to be hailed by the Rim Trade Authority when we emerged from the lane. Instead, we nearly collided into what appeared to be a military blockade, and only some brilliant manoeuvering from my pilot had kept us from becoming space dust. And that's when things got really strange. TIM alerted us that every weapon in the vicinity had been locked on us, and then failed to identify any of the ships in the blockade. They weren't just unknown models, they were too different from any ship I had ever seen, quite simply... not human. TIM followed its protocols and transmitted the emergency broadcast on all channels. The response was nearly as surprising as the rest of the situation, with several ships appearing to have shut down instantly for some reason. And then... then they talked to us. In a language the translator couldn't recognise, and spent several seconds - seconds! - translating. Even when the translation did come, I was not sure it was right. "Cease your attack! We surrender!"
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates. I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right? In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore. So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things. Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net. Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good. "Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod. "Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice. "Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that." "Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance." "Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise." "You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert." The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said. "So hey, you remember that thruster variance?" "You're shitting me." "I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it." The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow. "It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog." "Can't you process all of those?" "Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?" "Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?" "If this math is right, then...well you should check." A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen. "Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?" "Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked. "Yeah, let's get this over with."	I wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation. We were just one ship; they were dozens. Our tactical intelligence, TIM, reported fifty mass inverter cannons for every one of ours, and they had us well and truly surrounded. But the officer that had contacted us seemed, for lack of a better word, terrified. Myself, I was mostly just confused. Until about a minute ago, this had been a simple, routine trade run to one of the Rim colonies. I had expected to be hailed by the Rim Trade Authority when we emerged from the lane. Instead, we nearly collided into what appeared to be a military blockade, and only some brilliant manoeuvering from my pilot had kept us from becoming space dust. And that's when things got really strange. TIM alerted us that every weapon in the vicinity had been locked on us, and then failed to identify any of the ships in the blockade. They weren't just unknown models, they were too different from any ship I had ever seen, quite simply... not human. TIM followed its protocols and transmitted the emergency broadcast on all channels. The response was nearly as surprising as the rest of the situation, with several ships appearing to have shut down instantly for some reason. And then... then they talked to us. In a language the translator couldn't recognise, and spent several seconds - seconds! - translating. Even when the translation did come, I was not sure it was right. "Cease your attack! We surrender!"
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The glow from the instrument panel permeated his eyelids. The soft, familiar orange light accompanied by the proximity alarms drew him back to conciousness. “Engine core 55% depletion. Warning. Collision. Warning. Collision. Warning…” With a start, Lucas Davian sat upright and ripped the goggles off his face. Panic building, he put both hands on the throttle controls and slammed the light transport into reverse. Julia, the ship, groaned in protest against its own forward inertia and began to slow. With just the slightest of a jolt, the nose of the craft tapped into the side of the derelict transit station, Julia's shields shrugging off the inconsequential love tap. wait, what? derelict? I was here just last week. Rubbing his eyes, Lucas stared out the cockpit window at the station. Visibility wasn't an issue, the bulbous cockpit screen automatically brightens dim images, has several zoom levels and wraps around both sides of the occupant to fill in peripheral vision. Visibility wasn't the issue, comprehension was. The transit station, once a lively hub bridging the Timelight (TL) lanes between Alpha Proxima and the Veritas System, was a corroded, twisted shell. The windows long since shattered or missing entirely. The solar resistant blue grey paint was worn to bare metal, and the station itself now seemed to resemble a gargantuan steel octopus with its many docking bridges stuck out in random directions where they had been knocked about by various debris and collisions. And there's no ships. Lucas realized he had never seen the busy hub without there being a frustratingly long docking line of various ships from all over the quadrants. Traders, smugglers, passenger liners, even some of the United Navy vessels would stop through if the John C Sherman highway was under maintenance. It made him uneasy. “Engine Core 55%” Oh right. Coolant and fuel. The Timelight system was notoriously hard on engines, and Julia wasn't exactly a shining example of modern tech. Since the Timelight rings sped up the passage of time to make long journeys more palatable, the wear on space faring vessels was equally increased. Julia was at the end of a 3 week journey which, adjusted for TL, was just about a year. So why was Christenson Hub… “Oh shit….” The words escaped his chapped lips of their own accord. Lucas's mind was spinning as he slowly flew around the decrepit hub station. Realization was setting in, and the outlook was grim. “Command not recognized.” “Julia, what's today's date?” “It is January 22nd, Earth year 5244. You have 214 missed events.” Oh god it cant be. “Julia,” his voice croaked, “what year is it?” “It is Earth year 5244.” “What the fuck do you mean, 5244? Julia, run system diagnostics.” After a brief whir of computer fans, Julia responded. “Systems check complete. Engine core 55%. Shields 100% Shield battery 75% all other systems nominal. For a detailed scan, say 'details’”. Lucas had left for his trip on February 1st. Earth year 2644. “Julia, plot a course for Trepidity Commerce Station.” “Station beacon not found. Would you like to plot a manual course?” Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 Earth year 5244 “Calm down.” Lucas's words had little effect on his racing thoughts, the heart beating out of his chest. “Command not recognized. Your heart rate is elevated at 185 bpm. Is medical attention desired?” “No. Julia, find any nearby stations with available docking rings.” “Scanning.” Still absent-mindedly flying around the hub station, Lucas's eyes were drawn to the small remnants of life around him. A Viper class sportscraft docked near the gift shop, both worn nearly beyond recognition. A Navy Vessel of unknown type split in half and corroding away near the fuel depot. Several large laser marks burned into its hull. Gaping holes in the stations wall, exposing wires and cables. It was not clear how much of the damage was caused by thousands of years of debris collisions, and how much was caused by explosions and laser fire. The station must've been attacked. With how much time had elapsed, Lucas supposed the station could've been attacked many times since he last saw it. Earth year 5244 “Julia, hold position. I need a drink.” “Confirmed. Enjoy your break, Lucas.” Lucas left the cockpit and thanked the inventor of the stasis field protecting his ship's interior from the accelerated time dilation of the TL lanes. Uncorking a bottle of Drevick Whiskey, he thanked the stasis field’s inventor a second time for protecting his booze and poured a glass while he pondered his circumstances. Julia had enough provisions for maybe another couple of months or so without rationing too hard. As he looked around the dining area connected to the cockpit by a short four step staircase, he noted the aluminum cabinets and shelves lining the bluesteel walls. Maybe more like a month. Setting his glass down on the oval shaped ironwood table, Lucas toyed with the idea of switching on his personal communicator. It would be pointless, of course, anyone with his contact information would be long dead, and the servers holding his messages would be as well. “Fuck it.” He turned it on and stared at the 'no signal’ dialogue box. Setting it down with a sigh, He decided to check the engine room, mostly just to stay occupied than anything else. The door to the engine room unsealed with a hiss and Lucas peered into the dimly lit maintenance hall from the dining area. Lucas walked down the dreary, rusty hall, grabbed his toolkit, and went to work on the engines. “Signal check complete. There are four unidentified dock-ready stations within fuel distance.” Lucas leaned back on his heels and set his toolkit beside him. Wiping the oil on his pants, and satisfied he had done as much as he could with the tools that he had, he stood. “Julia, check the engines again.” “Engines 59%” That's just going to have to be enough. “Julia, plot a course for the closest signal.” Working on part 2	I wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation. We were just one ship; they were dozens. Our tactical intelligence, TIM, reported fifty mass inverter cannons for every one of ours, and they had us well and truly surrounded. But the officer that had contacted us seemed, for lack of a better word, terrified. Myself, I was mostly just confused. Until about a minute ago, this had been a simple, routine trade run to one of the Rim colonies. I had expected to be hailed by the Rim Trade Authority when we emerged from the lane. Instead, we nearly collided into what appeared to be a military blockade, and only some brilliant manoeuvering from my pilot had kept us from becoming space dust. And that's when things got really strange. TIM alerted us that every weapon in the vicinity had been locked on us, and then failed to identify any of the ships in the blockade. They weren't just unknown models, they were too different from any ship I had ever seen, quite simply... not human. TIM followed its protocols and transmitted the emergency broadcast on all channels. The response was nearly as surprising as the rest of the situation, with several ships appearing to have shut down instantly for some reason. And then... then they talked to us. In a language the translator couldn't recognise, and spent several seconds - seconds! - translating. Even when the translation did come, I was not sure it was right. "Cease your attack! We surrender!"
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors.	The biggest pain in the ass in the galaxy is the damn gates. I say this as a gate physicist. I was there when we built the first ones, and just five years later the experiments closed down and we all figured out "that's that, nothing else to do here." It turns out there are only so many ways you can tweak spacetime before it, to simplify, gets pissed off. One way is to emit EM through a region of stabilized bubble-space. You'd think being able to transit information would be cheaper than matter, right? In terms of gate physics, you'd be wrong. You do that, it doesn't work, you do too much of that, the bubble stabilizers (what you call a gate) explode and you get a nifty little shockwave through spacetime that the universe chooses to interpret as a gravitational wave. That's what happened to Jupiter. Damn shame, that. Just one gas giant funneled into a short-lived singularity and no one wants to do physics anymore. So now I'm a fucking courier. I mean, you really can't transit a hyperlane without an advanced degree in gate physics, but those of us who really fucked up at Jupiter get this shit job, and I fucked up the worst of everyone. I was the goddamned lead. We get to fly out from Sol and ping pong around the universe on three month shifts just doing data dumps. All of those shiny-new colony worlds need their infodumps and uploads. The bigger ones have got material passing through, so the data delivery is regular and piggybacked, just like whatever else they receive. Me though? Data only. Half the time I don't even get to put down at the colony, just orbit near whatever ass-end of nowhere rock they put the gate near. They're still afraid of the damn things. Give us three years and an out-of-the-way system with a decent gravity well and we'll iron out the kinks enough that you'll have a damn gate in your bedroom that leads to your office, or hell, at least an intercolony equivalent of the Earth net. Robert scanned his rant and clicked 'Send.' That clown doing the 'Where are they now' story of people involved in the Jupiter Incident wouldn't print a word, but it left him feeling better. He nudged his pod into the final approach for the New Arab Emirates gate. He liked the NAE. It was a money-talks sort of place, but it was also comfortable and the air smelled good. "Hey there Intrepid, you doing okay?" he asked the pod. "Looking forward to getting serviced after we touch down, actually. Those techs at Dubai station really know what they're doing" the Intrepid replied, with a genderless voice. "Any reason to look forward to service?" Robert asked, tapping his way through the diagnostics interface in front of him, "hey you didn't tell me about that." "Sorry," the pod replied, "just that same minor variance in thrust on number three, nothing to worry about. Ganymede Memorial just sucks a thruster maintenance." "Still, probably should have let me know before now. Damn man, you act like this isn't a precision enterprise." "You're right, but you do like to worry," the pod sounded concerned, "prepping for transit in ten seconds on the mark alert." The gate-lockdown klaxon sounded and the blast shutters dropped across the viewscreen as a visual countdown began on the panel. At zero, a vague feeling of unease passed over Robert. "Uh, hey, that was a little weird," he said. "So hey, you remember that thruster variance?" "You're shitting me." "I lack an anus, but if I did I probably would be dropping a brick through it." The shutter raised and outside of the viewscreen was a view of what was obviously a black hole, accretion disk and all. More concerning, was what looked like a cross between a spacecraft and a sea creature at a scale that Robert had never seen before just off the port bow. "It's hailing us," Intrepid said. "I can't make it out though, seems like some kinda cross between English, Chinese and Tagalog." "Can't you process all of those?" "Not like this...but hey...does something about the universal constant being useful as a galactic clock mean anything to you?" "Yeah, a paper I wrote as an undergrad covered that, why?" "If this math is right, then...well you should check." A series of complex equations appeared on the viewscreen. "Wait, that can't be right, that would put us at...what...a million years?" "Looks like. Hey, I've been chatting with their computer, nice chap by the way, I think I can translate real time now, you want to open a channel Bob?" Intrepid asked. "Yeah, let's get this over with."	The days on this planet are longer: I’m pretty sure one day here is at least 4 days back on Earth - the sun here, smaller yet hotter, is literally a perpetual presence, and, if I had sunscreen and a hat and water, its cheerful brightness might’ve been a beacon of hope but it’s burning my skin and leaving me dehydrated so much I started seeing things: long dead daughters and a rather frightening mirage of my boss, Mr Vander, telling me I’m almost at my destination, I’m almost there, keep going, Miany. I last spoke to him at least 15 hours ago: his only advice was that I find the local inhabitants of the planet and ask for their help, something he was very confident would work: he didn’t think they’d be hostile or frightened of an alien like me in anyway. Mr Vander is charming and confident, the “Cool Fox” we sometimes call him due to a certain cunning that lies just beneath his handsome looks, and when he says anything with that deep, steady voice of his you believe him, you even start believing in yourself. In my 45 years of living, I’ve never thought of thirst as being physically painful - it’s always been more of a nag, a bother at worst. My lips are dryer than the sand I trudge through - the hyperplane, my masterful invention, crashed in place that’s weirdly like the Sahara: bone-dry and excruciating glare, a hell up on the surface. It’s odd that the hyperplane malfunctioned - in fact, when I realized, with a cold twist of my stomach, that I was going to veer off course into wild space, I couldn’t believe it: my hyperplanes, an out-of-this-world progression of human accomplishment, couldn’t possibly have a fault. They were built because the Earth was dying and humanity needed a new home - which we found in a habitable planet called Spugg - and we needed to get there damn quickly. FTL was still decades away and so the hyperplanes, while initially rejected by the masses, were employed. I’m seeing something else now in this alien desert, a settlement, buildings and walking figures, unlikely since it seemed crazy that anyone could live in this firehole. But, as I stumble forwards, feet black and on fire, I realize that hallucinations have quite a different quality than real stuff, and that what’s before me is actually a small village - from here, in my dizzy, near-death state, I see grotesque humanoids ambling around, gnarled limbs sticking out of their torsos, a nightmare if I was in a more stable state of mind. I don’t care if they might be hostile, all I need is water, or, at any rate, an equivalent to it. I shout and every single one of them, in disturbing, choreographed unity, turn their heads in my direction. As I wave my hands, already regretting my decision, my communicator beeps: judging by the mugshot-like picture of a strong young man on the screen, it’s one of the engineering interns back on Earth, which is odd because I don’t quite expect interns to be involved in my rescue mission. “Hello - “ I begin but I gasp when I see the interns face on the video call: bloody and bashed, eyes slits and purple. “Miany!” he shouts. Interns usually, in fright and awe, refer to me as Miss Ogamenda, so him calling me by my name means there’s something serious going on. Before I can ask what the fuck, he continues: “Miany. I only have little time left! Listen to me!” “What is it?” Instantly, like medicine, an unnerving energy washes over me: the desert is discarded and forgotten. “Is the meteor about to strike Earth?” “No, listen!” He is barely intelligible since his mouth is so puffy. “Everything was a lie! I overhead them, Mr Vander, Mrs Plygien, everyone! I managed to get away but they’ve got soldiers on me. I’ve already broadcast the whole truth to the entire Eartg.” I can see him, with his sturdy frame, fighting off advancing guards, and with a sinking feeling, I realize what he meant when he said “little time”. “The Earth isn’t dying. Vander Inc. has been polluting and destroying the Earth on purpose so that they could get government funding to find and conquer other worlds! It’s all a thirst for power!” “What?” “Your hyperplane: it didn’t just malfunction, it was tampered with. They figured you were too close to the inner circle and couldn’t be trusted if the truth was leaked to you. They only wanted your brains and inventions, your hyperplane especially, and they always planned to get rid of you afterwards. You’ve always been outspoken and fought for what’s right - we interns always admired you about that. There was no way they could risk you finding out, Miany.” My head is spinning: faintly, like they’re on some faraway planet, I can hear the aliens approaching, massive feet thudding on sand “Oh, fuck, they’re coming.” Fear and death are in the intern’s eyes as he looks up from his communicator and back down to me. “They tried to kill you! Not just by making you crash on an alien desert planet but on an alien desert planet with aliens who’ve come into contact with humans before. Bad contact, hundreds of years ago in the early 21st century. They hate humans and will arrest or kill one on sight!” As the thought of being wanted on two fronts sinks in, the intern’s eyes widen, and when he tries to open his mouth in a rigid, spastic way, there’s an explosion, and the screen of the communicator goes black.

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