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[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
|
"But I don't want a soulmate! Heck I don't even want a girlfriend!" I protested loudly.
Both the genie and Hera looked at me questioningly.
"Mortal, I can bring you immortality and wealth just by being my boyfriend. Why don't you want to be my soulmate?"
"I'm gay!"
Both of them stare at me before the genie starts to laugh "Haha Hera, seems like you found your soulmate. Though she isn't yours, Tom." He said talking back to me.
Hera looked furious "I divorced Zeus to be with you and you dare refuse me?!"
"The fact that he's now prancing around between the legs of supermodels isn't my fault." I retorted angrily.
"Foolish mortal! You would regret ever talking to me like that!" She snapped her fingers and I was covered in smoke.
I opened my eyes to a wasteland filled with lava.
"Welcome to the underworld, mortal who refused Hera."
(More of my answering writing prompts at r/Copper_tear
|
"Hold on a moment. Hera is the wife of Zeus, how could she possibly be my soulmate?" Zane wondered, as he began rifling through his papers. "This can't be right. I'm not the type to–"
"Master Zane, you wished you could find a soulmate," the genie answers, somewhat embarrassed. "I thought that Hera would satisfy you, since–"
Zane gives the genie a long look. "Since I talk about her a lot in my lectures?" He sighs, and sets aside a book with a leather-bound cover. "You took that literally. I heard jokes that genies love to take words at face value, but that's too much."
Hera draws herself closer to Zane, forcing him to look in her eyes. "Zane, was it? I want to know why. Why have you brought me here?"
"Truthfully... I don't know," Zane admits sadly. "Can I wish you could return to the Pantheon? Your husband must be concerned, at least."
Hera lets out a deep, heartfelt laugh. "Him, concerned? He is concerned with his own pleasure, I fear. I do not know why I had married him in the first place."
"Hera, I..." Zane reaches out for a stray paper, depicting Hera standing alone under a tree, watched from afar by a silhouette in the distance. "I think your soulmate is someone else. Do find them, won't you? I must find my own."
"Master. You need to take a decision," the genie interjects. "You must tell me if you keep her or let her go."
Zane reaches out to cup Hera's cheek. In that sole moment, he can swear she looks both young and ancient. His gaze follows the thin creases upon her forehead, the thin brows drawn in thought, down to her eyes, like the ocean. Her lips, plush and wet, look inviting to him. "May I...?"
Her cheeks flush at the shy tone of his question, and nods. Their lips meet, and their kiss is soft, moist and...
His eyes open to see his dog, Ley, licking all over his face in excitement to wake him up. "Yikes, Ley, get off me!" he says, gently pushing the dog away.
He scrunches up his nose at the scent wafting in his nostrils. "I'm now covered in dog drool, happy? What's gotten you so excited though..."
Zane makes his way to the bathroom, and deals with the task of his morning routine. His mind, however, lingered over the dream and the kiss with Hera. "Oh man, must've sat up all night reading Greek legends..." he mutters to himself.
The sound of his doorbell jolts him from his thoughts, and he takes his mug of coffee while going to open the door. "First Ley was excited, now this... Post, so early in the morning–"
He nearly drops the cup of coffee when he sees a woman standing in the doorframe, her appearance reminding him of Hera. "Uh–hi–er, yes?"
"You must be Zane," she offers with a smile. "I am Hera, your newest assistant. I know, it's a bit cliché to be named after the goddess of fertility."
Zane finds himself unable to say anything for a moment. "...No, it's not. Please, come in–"
An empty bucket of popcorn is tossed against the sturdy glass, blue light dancing all over the darkened room. "What the hell, dude. You just met Hera in the double, be more convincing! Damn it. Am I that bad of an actor?"
"Woof."
"Well I'd like to see you manage it. Alright, time for the game shows," he says, pushing on the button for the next channel on TV.
|
|
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
|
"Are you cheating on me?" Hera asked the question while finishing up the dishes. She stood at the sink, her larger than life head nearly hitting the ceiling, using part of her purple toga as a dishtowel.
Julia was still toweling off her hair from her morning shower. Her long brown hair took forever to dry, but she didn't use a hairdryer as it would frizz up. She twisted it all up in the towel and set it as a turban on the top of her head. She had to balance it carefully as she tilted her head to look up at Hera. "Why are you doing the dishes? We have a dishwasher."
"Where were you last night? I was waiting for you to come home and you were late."
Julia sighed. "I was working. You know that. Alone. No men, just me and the computer."
Hera screwed her lips up and gave Julia a distrustful look. "And no women? No swans? Bulls? No golden rain?"
Julia reached up to squeeze Hera's hand. "No, my soulmate. I'm not like your ex. You really should talk to Dr. Cohen about these things. The trust issues."
Hera's eyes seemed to glow, matching the crown on her head. When she spoke her voice wasn't louder, just more forceful. "I'm not crazy. I don't need to talk to your Stoic Oracle."
Julia continued squeezing her hands and Hera settled down. "Leave the dishes. Have a coffee with me before work. I've only got a couple minutes before things get busy."
The attendant brought in a carafe and poured two cups. Julia cuddled on Hera's lap as they sipped their coffee and gazed out the window at the sunrise coming up over the rolling hills. Hera's eyes wandered to the lamp sitting under security glass above the mantle. "Are you ever going to use that third wish?"
Julia chuckled. "I don't need it. I have everything I want right here. You are the best soulmate I could have asked for. The second wish was more than I could have hoped for."
"But your first wish—" Hera stopped when Julia reached up and placed a finger on her lips.
"Don't talk about work. I only get so much time with you each day and I want to savor it."
They chatted lovingly as the sky brightened slowly from red and orange to clear blue. As Julia set her empty cup of coffee down, a bell rang. She got up and untwisted the towel from her hair. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on Hera's neck. "Duty calls. I'll see you after work."
The door opened as two men entered, in black uniforms with lightning bolt insignia on the chests. They knelt in unison. The taller of the two spoke. "My Lord, there is much news today of the war. Your enemies flee before your power."
Julia handed the towel to a faceless attendant. "Very good. Arise. First, tell me about progress on the Lightning Projector, then I'll want to see the latest troop deployments, then we'll go over reports on..."
As Julia walked off surrounded by troops, Hera smiled. She really was the perfect match.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\]
|
"Hold on a moment. Hera is the wife of Zeus, how could she possibly be my soulmate?" Zane wondered, as he began rifling through his papers. "This can't be right. I'm not the type to–"
"Master Zane, you wished you could find a soulmate," the genie answers, somewhat embarrassed. "I thought that Hera would satisfy you, since–"
Zane gives the genie a long look. "Since I talk about her a lot in my lectures?" He sighs, and sets aside a book with a leather-bound cover. "You took that literally. I heard jokes that genies love to take words at face value, but that's too much."
Hera draws herself closer to Zane, forcing him to look in her eyes. "Zane, was it? I want to know why. Why have you brought me here?"
"Truthfully... I don't know," Zane admits sadly. "Can I wish you could return to the Pantheon? Your husband must be concerned, at least."
Hera lets out a deep, heartfelt laugh. "Him, concerned? He is concerned with his own pleasure, I fear. I do not know why I had married him in the first place."
"Hera, I..." Zane reaches out for a stray paper, depicting Hera standing alone under a tree, watched from afar by a silhouette in the distance. "I think your soulmate is someone else. Do find them, won't you? I must find my own."
"Master. You need to take a decision," the genie interjects. "You must tell me if you keep her or let her go."
Zane reaches out to cup Hera's cheek. In that sole moment, he can swear she looks both young and ancient. His gaze follows the thin creases upon her forehead, the thin brows drawn in thought, down to her eyes, like the ocean. Her lips, plush and wet, look inviting to him. "May I...?"
Her cheeks flush at the shy tone of his question, and nods. Their lips meet, and their kiss is soft, moist and...
His eyes open to see his dog, Ley, licking all over his face in excitement to wake him up. "Yikes, Ley, get off me!" he says, gently pushing the dog away.
He scrunches up his nose at the scent wafting in his nostrils. "I'm now covered in dog drool, happy? What's gotten you so excited though..."
Zane makes his way to the bathroom, and deals with the task of his morning routine. His mind, however, lingered over the dream and the kiss with Hera. "Oh man, must've sat up all night reading Greek legends..." he mutters to himself.
The sound of his doorbell jolts him from his thoughts, and he takes his mug of coffee while going to open the door. "First Ley was excited, now this... Post, so early in the morning–"
He nearly drops the cup of coffee when he sees a woman standing in the doorframe, her appearance reminding him of Hera. "Uh–hi–er, yes?"
"You must be Zane," she offers with a smile. "I am Hera, your newest assistant. I know, it's a bit cliché to be named after the goddess of fertility."
Zane finds himself unable to say anything for a moment. "...No, it's not. Please, come in–"
An empty bucket of popcorn is tossed against the sturdy glass, blue light dancing all over the darkened room. "What the hell, dude. You just met Hera in the double, be more convincing! Damn it. Am I that bad of an actor?"
"Woof."
"Well I'd like to see you manage it. Alright, time for the game shows," he says, pushing on the button for the next channel on TV.
|
|
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
|
I couldn't believe my luck. I had bought this Italian villa in an extremely rural (even for Italy) village. My goal was to just escape the modern rat race. I had met my neighbors who were all old enough that if they were in the States, they'd probably be living in a retirement home. Here, they thrived by gardening and drinking red wine. I was excited to join them.
I was digging up my long since ignored "yard" to plant a garden for myself. It was about halfway through my tilling, I hit the box. The box required a bit more digging and I was shocked to find some gold, silver and bronze coins and an oil lamp inside. I told NO ONE.
I brought the box into the house and pulled the lamp out. It was brass and had fancy etchings all over it. I decided to rub it as a joke to myself. "oooohh a Genie is going to come out and grant me wishes!" I said to myself. That's when the smoke started pouring out.
"I'm here! I'm Here! Roll out the Carpets and Ring all the Bells! I'm here!" said a jovial looking man. Well the top half of him. the bottom half was obscured in a smoke tornado that led back to the lamp.
"Uh... Dude, that's from a cartoon in the 1940s or so." I was now very confused.
"Oh, I know, I thought it was hilarious when I saw it in a movie house. Do they still have those? How long has it been? Time doesn't work the same... in there." He pointed at the lamp. "Also, this seems not to be New York, or even OLD York. " He peered out the window, "I end up places after the 3rd wish, speaking of... For setting me free, you get three wishes! How exciting is that for YOU?" He seemed absolutely giddy.
"Well, I want an extremely high speed Internet connection here, in my home, but accessable by me anywhere in town, and free access, with unlimited data. That's my first wish."
"I'm not sure what all that means, but since you know it, I'm gonna use your intent. Granted" with a puff of smoke, there was a black box that showed up next to my computer desk that had an antenna on it. "Your new in Ter Net Connection. It's evidently as fast as the government uses in all the secret places. The guy that installed it in the time it took for you to blink your eyes said not to dig in the area that the cable was laid down in your front garden."
I pulled out my phone and saw my Wi-Fi had changed to GeneNet. I then did a speed test. 100 GB speed! "Excellent! Well Done!" I quipped.
"For my second wish, since I live here in what is really kind of a paradise already I want to be able to understand the languages used around here and speak them without being misunderstood."
"Done!" a puff of smoke and I picked up the local newspaper that had been wrapped around my daily grocery order. It felt like I was reading in English, although I knew I was not.
"Oh, nice! Gratzie!" I was grinning from ear to ear. Life was going to be so much easier. "Finally, I wish to find my soulmate here in my little italian village so that I might grow old with them."
"No wishing for love... " He gave me a stern look.
"Is that a rule?" I asked.
"No, it is not. However, messing with those sorts of things with wishes can be very dangerous and since you've been really easy so far, I'm trying to help you out. You might think you aren't wishing for love asking for a soulmate, " he scoffed, " but understand... THAT is a wish for someone to love you."
"No, it isn't." I lied to them, and myself.
"Okay, well, I've been here 5 minutes and you are almost done, so this gets me back to my home dimension. So, DONE!" With that, there was a puff of smoke, and the genie and the lamp were gone. Next to the box was a note...
"Not sure who left the gold. Enjoy it. It can help fund your retirement here."
And, nothing.
I looked around my living room. I was still by myself. Oh wait, they are somewhere in the village. I had been hot and sweaty from all the digging, so I went and took a shower and got dressed in some nice clothes to go and wander around the village and use my new language skills.
I opened my front door to see a woman in her 30s (ish) with beautiful olive toned skin, ruddy hair and green eyes standing in front of it. She was wearing what looked like a toga or some sort of robes. I had never seen her before around town. I decided to try my Italiano...
*"Hello, nice to meet you. How can I help you?"* I gave a big warm smile and held out my hand for a handshake.
"Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods from Mt. Olympus. You summoned *me* here." her English was impeccable without a hint of accent. I heard a bamf sound behind me and turned to see the Genie back in my living room.
"Is that..." I whispered. Which didn't make sense, because she was 3 feet away from me.
"Yes, she is..." He paused afraid to say the next words, "Your *soulmate*."
"Dude, she's MARRIED!" I said to him, afraid to look back at the woman patiently standing at my door.
|
"Hold on a moment. Hera is the wife of Zeus, how could she possibly be my soulmate?" Zane wondered, as he began rifling through his papers. "This can't be right. I'm not the type to–"
"Master Zane, you wished you could find a soulmate," the genie answers, somewhat embarrassed. "I thought that Hera would satisfy you, since–"
Zane gives the genie a long look. "Since I talk about her a lot in my lectures?" He sighs, and sets aside a book with a leather-bound cover. "You took that literally. I heard jokes that genies love to take words at face value, but that's too much."
Hera draws herself closer to Zane, forcing him to look in her eyes. "Zane, was it? I want to know why. Why have you brought me here?"
"Truthfully... I don't know," Zane admits sadly. "Can I wish you could return to the Pantheon? Your husband must be concerned, at least."
Hera lets out a deep, heartfelt laugh. "Him, concerned? He is concerned with his own pleasure, I fear. I do not know why I had married him in the first place."
"Hera, I..." Zane reaches out for a stray paper, depicting Hera standing alone under a tree, watched from afar by a silhouette in the distance. "I think your soulmate is someone else. Do find them, won't you? I must find my own."
"Master. You need to take a decision," the genie interjects. "You must tell me if you keep her or let her go."
Zane reaches out to cup Hera's cheek. In that sole moment, he can swear she looks both young and ancient. His gaze follows the thin creases upon her forehead, the thin brows drawn in thought, down to her eyes, like the ocean. Her lips, plush and wet, look inviting to him. "May I...?"
Her cheeks flush at the shy tone of his question, and nods. Their lips meet, and their kiss is soft, moist and...
His eyes open to see his dog, Ley, licking all over his face in excitement to wake him up. "Yikes, Ley, get off me!" he says, gently pushing the dog away.
He scrunches up his nose at the scent wafting in his nostrils. "I'm now covered in dog drool, happy? What's gotten you so excited though..."
Zane makes his way to the bathroom, and deals with the task of his morning routine. His mind, however, lingered over the dream and the kiss with Hera. "Oh man, must've sat up all night reading Greek legends..." he mutters to himself.
The sound of his doorbell jolts him from his thoughts, and he takes his mug of coffee while going to open the door. "First Ley was excited, now this... Post, so early in the morning–"
He nearly drops the cup of coffee when he sees a woman standing in the doorframe, her appearance reminding him of Hera. "Uh–hi–er, yes?"
"You must be Zane," she offers with a smile. "I am Hera, your newest assistant. I know, it's a bit cliché to be named after the goddess of fertility."
Zane finds himself unable to say anything for a moment. "...No, it's not. Please, come in–"
An empty bucket of popcorn is tossed against the sturdy glass, blue light dancing all over the darkened room. "What the hell, dude. You just met Hera in the double, be more convincing! Damn it. Am I that bad of an actor?"
"Woof."
"Well I'd like to see you manage it. Alright, time for the game shows," he says, pushing on the button for the next channel on TV.
|
|
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
|
As she sank to the floor, Hera adjusted her pink toga and sighed ever so slightly. "What is it with me and mortal men?" she said. "I'm drawn like a moth to the funeral pyre."
Bellamy, the genie that had just popped out in a cloud of smoke from my new French press, bowed his head. "I'm not the matchmaker," he said. "My father was in the soul-bonding business. Nearly broke him. He was a shadow of a man when he retired. I mean, he was born as a shadow, *but still*."
I had just wanted a nice cup of coffee. I ordered a French press online because I have a friend who called it a game-changer. After I had already ordered it, I visited him and it turned out he didn't even own one. He just liked the 'aesthetic', as he put it. Once it arrived, I gave it a simple squeeze, and ...
"How about you mount me like a mare?" said Hera. She wrapped her arms around me. Perfumed with a scent of hibiscus and staring at me with copper eyes she certainly had the presence of a goddess.
I blushed. "I've never even been on a horse."
Hera arched an eyebrow. "On?"
Slinking backward I suddenly found myself pressed against the wall. "W-What about Zeus?" I said.
She pouted. "Why are you bringing up my brother?"
"Brother?" I said. "I thought he was your husband."
Laughing, Hera said, "We're gods. Why should we care about your silly taboos?"
I gave Bellamy a look. He shrugged his airy shoulders. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that, actually," I said.
Removing my belt in one smooth motion, she said, "So why don't you make yourself ... comfortable?"
Her cougar vibes were starting to get to me. I didn't like where this was going. "Look," I said. "You're a very lovely lady, and I'm sure you'll make some mere mortal very happy some day, but—"
Hera put her index finger over my lips. "Shh. I get it," she said.
A bird flew in through an open window and sat down next to my French press.
"You do?" I said.
"Of course. You have been spellbound by my beauty. It happens *all the time*."
"That's not really—"
"Transfixed by the sight of divinity you fear you won't be able to ... *perform*."
The bird cooed.
As Hera opened her belt, I stopped her. "I just wanted some coffee," I told her. "Fancy coffee. I didn't expect ... all of this."
The goddess frowned. "Coffee?"
"A hot bean drink. Quite popular with mortals," said Bellamy.
Her face reddened and she balled her fists. "Coffee?" she repeated.
"... Yes?"
I looked at Bellamy. He didn't seem to know more than I did. But when I looked at the bird, I could see it carefully stepping back.
"CAFFEINA!!?? A ROMAN GODDESS!?"
Fire and steam rose from her celestial body.
"You ... heathen! Fool! You have the queen of Greek gods before you and all you can think about is the lesser goddess of lesser men?"
I waved my arms in front of me. "I wasn't talking a goddess. I just wanted coffee. Actual coffee. To drink."
Hera simmered down immediately. "... Is that right?" she said. Circling her sandal on the floor, she said, shyly, "You must think I'm a mess."
"No!" I said. "I mean ..."
"Just forget it. Soulmate or not, it doesn't matter. You," she said, pointing at the bird. "Are you going to sit there like some creep all day?"
The bird transformed into Zeus, its true form, and said, "Sorry. You know I kind of like to ... You know."
"Watch?" she said. "I know all about your ... interests. It's a tale as old as Greece."
"Is that a French press?" said Zeus. "Damn. These things are *fancy*. I've always meant to get one of these. I have a friend who tells me it's a real game-changer."
"Would you like a cup?" I said.
The four of us sat for a while drinking coffee. Turns out, French press coffee just tastes like regular coffee. And it makes a mess. In case you were thinking about getting one.
Hera and Zeus said their goodbyes and headed back to Olympus, to my great relief. As for Bellamy ...
"If you ever feel lonely, just give it a press and think of me," he said. "I'm sure you'll find your next soulmate to be more your style."
"You mean there are more than one?"
"Of course," he said. "Just think about it. What if your one true soulmate was a Mongolian farmer who died two thousand years ago? You'd never meet them organically if that was the case."
"Huh. I guess that makes sense."
Bellamy left in a puff of smoke. As I sipped on my cup of coffee, I felt a bit curious. I wondered what that Roman goddess called Caffeina looked like. I finished my cup and I decided that I'd had enough of gods and goddesses for one day.
It would have to wait for some other time.
|
"Hold on a moment. Hera is the wife of Zeus, how could she possibly be my soulmate?" Zane wondered, as he began rifling through his papers. "This can't be right. I'm not the type to–"
"Master Zane, you wished you could find a soulmate," the genie answers, somewhat embarrassed. "I thought that Hera would satisfy you, since–"
Zane gives the genie a long look. "Since I talk about her a lot in my lectures?" He sighs, and sets aside a book with a leather-bound cover. "You took that literally. I heard jokes that genies love to take words at face value, but that's too much."
Hera draws herself closer to Zane, forcing him to look in her eyes. "Zane, was it? I want to know why. Why have you brought me here?"
"Truthfully... I don't know," Zane admits sadly. "Can I wish you could return to the Pantheon? Your husband must be concerned, at least."
Hera lets out a deep, heartfelt laugh. "Him, concerned? He is concerned with his own pleasure, I fear. I do not know why I had married him in the first place."
"Hera, I..." Zane reaches out for a stray paper, depicting Hera standing alone under a tree, watched from afar by a silhouette in the distance. "I think your soulmate is someone else. Do find them, won't you? I must find my own."
"Master. You need to take a decision," the genie interjects. "You must tell me if you keep her or let her go."
Zane reaches out to cup Hera's cheek. In that sole moment, he can swear she looks both young and ancient. His gaze follows the thin creases upon her forehead, the thin brows drawn in thought, down to her eyes, like the ocean. Her lips, plush and wet, look inviting to him. "May I...?"
Her cheeks flush at the shy tone of his question, and nods. Their lips meet, and their kiss is soft, moist and...
His eyes open to see his dog, Ley, licking all over his face in excitement to wake him up. "Yikes, Ley, get off me!" he says, gently pushing the dog away.
He scrunches up his nose at the scent wafting in his nostrils. "I'm now covered in dog drool, happy? What's gotten you so excited though..."
Zane makes his way to the bathroom, and deals with the task of his morning routine. His mind, however, lingered over the dream and the kiss with Hera. "Oh man, must've sat up all night reading Greek legends..." he mutters to himself.
The sound of his doorbell jolts him from his thoughts, and he takes his mug of coffee while going to open the door. "First Ley was excited, now this... Post, so early in the morning–"
He nearly drops the cup of coffee when he sees a woman standing in the doorframe, her appearance reminding him of Hera. "Uh–hi–er, yes?"
"You must be Zane," she offers with a smile. "I am Hera, your newest assistant. I know, it's a bit cliché to be named after the goddess of fertility."
Zane finds himself unable to say anything for a moment. "...No, it's not. Please, come in–"
An empty bucket of popcorn is tossed against the sturdy glass, blue light dancing all over the darkened room. "What the hell, dude. You just met Hera in the double, be more convincing! Damn it. Am I that bad of an actor?"
"Woof."
"Well I'd like to see you manage it. Alright, time for the game shows," he says, pushing on the button for the next channel on TV.
|
|
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
|
"Are you cheating on me?" Hera asked the question while finishing up the dishes. She stood at the sink, her larger than life head nearly hitting the ceiling, using part of her purple toga as a dishtowel.
Julia was still toweling off her hair from her morning shower. Her long brown hair took forever to dry, but she didn't use a hairdryer as it would frizz up. She twisted it all up in the towel and set it as a turban on the top of her head. She had to balance it carefully as she tilted her head to look up at Hera. "Why are you doing the dishes? We have a dishwasher."
"Where were you last night? I was waiting for you to come home and you were late."
Julia sighed. "I was working. You know that. Alone. No men, just me and the computer."
Hera screwed her lips up and gave Julia a distrustful look. "And no women? No swans? Bulls? No golden rain?"
Julia reached up to squeeze Hera's hand. "No, my soulmate. I'm not like your ex. You really should talk to Dr. Cohen about these things. The trust issues."
Hera's eyes seemed to glow, matching the crown on her head. When she spoke her voice wasn't louder, just more forceful. "I'm not crazy. I don't need to talk to your Stoic Oracle."
Julia continued squeezing her hands and Hera settled down. "Leave the dishes. Have a coffee with me before work. I've only got a couple minutes before things get busy."
The attendant brought in a carafe and poured two cups. Julia cuddled on Hera's lap as they sipped their coffee and gazed out the window at the sunrise coming up over the rolling hills. Hera's eyes wandered to the lamp sitting under security glass above the mantle. "Are you ever going to use that third wish?"
Julia chuckled. "I don't need it. I have everything I want right here. You are the best soulmate I could have asked for. The second wish was more than I could have hoped for."
"But your first wish—" Hera stopped when Julia reached up and placed a finger on her lips.
"Don't talk about work. I only get so much time with you each day and I want to savor it."
They chatted lovingly as the sky brightened slowly from red and orange to clear blue. As Julia set her empty cup of coffee down, a bell rang. She got up and untwisted the towel from her hair. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on Hera's neck. "Duty calls. I'll see you after work."
The door opened as two men entered, in black uniforms with lightning bolt insignia on the chests. They knelt in unison. The taller of the two spoke. "My Lord, there is much news today of the war. Your enemies flee before your power."
Julia handed the towel to a faceless attendant. "Very good. Arise. First, tell me about progress on the Lightning Projector, then I'll want to see the latest troop deployments, then we'll go over reports on..."
As Julia walked off surrounded by troops, Hera smiled. She really was the perfect match.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\]
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"But I don't want a soulmate! Heck I don't even want a girlfriend!" I protested loudly.
Both the genie and Hera looked at me questioningly.
"Mortal, I can bring you immortality and wealth just by being my boyfriend. Why don't you want to be my soulmate?"
"I'm gay!"
Both of them stare at me before the genie starts to laugh "Haha Hera, seems like you found your soulmate. Though she isn't yours, Tom." He said talking back to me.
Hera looked furious "I divorced Zeus to be with you and you dare refuse me?!"
"The fact that he's now prancing around between the legs of supermodels isn't my fault." I retorted angrily.
"Foolish mortal! You would regret ever talking to me like that!" She snapped her fingers and I was covered in smoke.
I opened my eyes to a wasteland filled with lava.
"Welcome to the underworld, mortal who refused Hera."
(More of my answering writing prompts at r/Copper_tear
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[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
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I couldn't believe my luck. I had bought this Italian villa in an extremely rural (even for Italy) village. My goal was to just escape the modern rat race. I had met my neighbors who were all old enough that if they were in the States, they'd probably be living in a retirement home. Here, they thrived by gardening and drinking red wine. I was excited to join them.
I was digging up my long since ignored "yard" to plant a garden for myself. It was about halfway through my tilling, I hit the box. The box required a bit more digging and I was shocked to find some gold, silver and bronze coins and an oil lamp inside. I told NO ONE.
I brought the box into the house and pulled the lamp out. It was brass and had fancy etchings all over it. I decided to rub it as a joke to myself. "oooohh a Genie is going to come out and grant me wishes!" I said to myself. That's when the smoke started pouring out.
"I'm here! I'm Here! Roll out the Carpets and Ring all the Bells! I'm here!" said a jovial looking man. Well the top half of him. the bottom half was obscured in a smoke tornado that led back to the lamp.
"Uh... Dude, that's from a cartoon in the 1940s or so." I was now very confused.
"Oh, I know, I thought it was hilarious when I saw it in a movie house. Do they still have those? How long has it been? Time doesn't work the same... in there." He pointed at the lamp. "Also, this seems not to be New York, or even OLD York. " He peered out the window, "I end up places after the 3rd wish, speaking of... For setting me free, you get three wishes! How exciting is that for YOU?" He seemed absolutely giddy.
"Well, I want an extremely high speed Internet connection here, in my home, but accessable by me anywhere in town, and free access, with unlimited data. That's my first wish."
"I'm not sure what all that means, but since you know it, I'm gonna use your intent. Granted" with a puff of smoke, there was a black box that showed up next to my computer desk that had an antenna on it. "Your new in Ter Net Connection. It's evidently as fast as the government uses in all the secret places. The guy that installed it in the time it took for you to blink your eyes said not to dig in the area that the cable was laid down in your front garden."
I pulled out my phone and saw my Wi-Fi had changed to GeneNet. I then did a speed test. 100 GB speed! "Excellent! Well Done!" I quipped.
"For my second wish, since I live here in what is really kind of a paradise already I want to be able to understand the languages used around here and speak them without being misunderstood."
"Done!" a puff of smoke and I picked up the local newspaper that had been wrapped around my daily grocery order. It felt like I was reading in English, although I knew I was not.
"Oh, nice! Gratzie!" I was grinning from ear to ear. Life was going to be so much easier. "Finally, I wish to find my soulmate here in my little italian village so that I might grow old with them."
"No wishing for love... " He gave me a stern look.
"Is that a rule?" I asked.
"No, it is not. However, messing with those sorts of things with wishes can be very dangerous and since you've been really easy so far, I'm trying to help you out. You might think you aren't wishing for love asking for a soulmate, " he scoffed, " but understand... THAT is a wish for someone to love you."
"No, it isn't." I lied to them, and myself.
"Okay, well, I've been here 5 minutes and you are almost done, so this gets me back to my home dimension. So, DONE!" With that, there was a puff of smoke, and the genie and the lamp were gone. Next to the box was a note...
"Not sure who left the gold. Enjoy it. It can help fund your retirement here."
And, nothing.
I looked around my living room. I was still by myself. Oh wait, they are somewhere in the village. I had been hot and sweaty from all the digging, so I went and took a shower and got dressed in some nice clothes to go and wander around the village and use my new language skills.
I opened my front door to see a woman in her 30s (ish) with beautiful olive toned skin, ruddy hair and green eyes standing in front of it. She was wearing what looked like a toga or some sort of robes. I had never seen her before around town. I decided to try my Italiano...
*"Hello, nice to meet you. How can I help you?"* I gave a big warm smile and held out my hand for a handshake.
"Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods from Mt. Olympus. You summoned *me* here." her English was impeccable without a hint of accent. I heard a bamf sound behind me and turned to see the Genie back in my living room.
"Is that..." I whispered. Which didn't make sense, because she was 3 feet away from me.
"Yes, she is..." He paused afraid to say the next words, "Your *soulmate*."
"Dude, she's MARRIED!" I said to him, afraid to look back at the woman patiently standing at my door.
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"But I don't want a soulmate! Heck I don't even want a girlfriend!" I protested loudly.
Both the genie and Hera looked at me questioningly.
"Mortal, I can bring you immortality and wealth just by being my boyfriend. Why don't you want to be my soulmate?"
"I'm gay!"
Both of them stare at me before the genie starts to laugh "Haha Hera, seems like you found your soulmate. Though she isn't yours, Tom." He said talking back to me.
Hera looked furious "I divorced Zeus to be with you and you dare refuse me?!"
"The fact that he's now prancing around between the legs of supermodels isn't my fault." I retorted angrily.
"Foolish mortal! You would regret ever talking to me like that!" She snapped her fingers and I was covered in smoke.
I opened my eyes to a wasteland filled with lava.
"Welcome to the underworld, mortal who refused Hera."
(More of my answering writing prompts at r/Copper_tear
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[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
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As she sank to the floor, Hera adjusted her pink toga and sighed ever so slightly. "What is it with me and mortal men?" she said. "I'm drawn like a moth to the funeral pyre."
Bellamy, the genie that had just popped out in a cloud of smoke from my new French press, bowed his head. "I'm not the matchmaker," he said. "My father was in the soul-bonding business. Nearly broke him. He was a shadow of a man when he retired. I mean, he was born as a shadow, *but still*."
I had just wanted a nice cup of coffee. I ordered a French press online because I have a friend who called it a game-changer. After I had already ordered it, I visited him and it turned out he didn't even own one. He just liked the 'aesthetic', as he put it. Once it arrived, I gave it a simple squeeze, and ...
"How about you mount me like a mare?" said Hera. She wrapped her arms around me. Perfumed with a scent of hibiscus and staring at me with copper eyes she certainly had the presence of a goddess.
I blushed. "I've never even been on a horse."
Hera arched an eyebrow. "On?"
Slinking backward I suddenly found myself pressed against the wall. "W-What about Zeus?" I said.
She pouted. "Why are you bringing up my brother?"
"Brother?" I said. "I thought he was your husband."
Laughing, Hera said, "We're gods. Why should we care about your silly taboos?"
I gave Bellamy a look. He shrugged his airy shoulders. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that, actually," I said.
Removing my belt in one smooth motion, she said, "So why don't you make yourself ... comfortable?"
Her cougar vibes were starting to get to me. I didn't like where this was going. "Look," I said. "You're a very lovely lady, and I'm sure you'll make some mere mortal very happy some day, but—"
Hera put her index finger over my lips. "Shh. I get it," she said.
A bird flew in through an open window and sat down next to my French press.
"You do?" I said.
"Of course. You have been spellbound by my beauty. It happens *all the time*."
"That's not really—"
"Transfixed by the sight of divinity you fear you won't be able to ... *perform*."
The bird cooed.
As Hera opened her belt, I stopped her. "I just wanted some coffee," I told her. "Fancy coffee. I didn't expect ... all of this."
The goddess frowned. "Coffee?"
"A hot bean drink. Quite popular with mortals," said Bellamy.
Her face reddened and she balled her fists. "Coffee?" she repeated.
"... Yes?"
I looked at Bellamy. He didn't seem to know more than I did. But when I looked at the bird, I could see it carefully stepping back.
"CAFFEINA!!?? A ROMAN GODDESS!?"
Fire and steam rose from her celestial body.
"You ... heathen! Fool! You have the queen of Greek gods before you and all you can think about is the lesser goddess of lesser men?"
I waved my arms in front of me. "I wasn't talking a goddess. I just wanted coffee. Actual coffee. To drink."
Hera simmered down immediately. "... Is that right?" she said. Circling her sandal on the floor, she said, shyly, "You must think I'm a mess."
"No!" I said. "I mean ..."
"Just forget it. Soulmate or not, it doesn't matter. You," she said, pointing at the bird. "Are you going to sit there like some creep all day?"
The bird transformed into Zeus, its true form, and said, "Sorry. You know I kind of like to ... You know."
"Watch?" she said. "I know all about your ... interests. It's a tale as old as Greece."
"Is that a French press?" said Zeus. "Damn. These things are *fancy*. I've always meant to get one of these. I have a friend who tells me it's a real game-changer."
"Would you like a cup?" I said.
The four of us sat for a while drinking coffee. Turns out, French press coffee just tastes like regular coffee. And it makes a mess. In case you were thinking about getting one.
Hera and Zeus said their goodbyes and headed back to Olympus, to my great relief. As for Bellamy ...
"If you ever feel lonely, just give it a press and think of me," he said. "I'm sure you'll find your next soulmate to be more your style."
"You mean there are more than one?"
"Of course," he said. "Just think about it. What if your one true soulmate was a Mongolian farmer who died two thousand years ago? You'd never meet them organically if that was the case."
"Huh. I guess that makes sense."
Bellamy left in a puff of smoke. As I sipped on my cup of coffee, I felt a bit curious. I wondered what that Roman goddess called Caffeina looked like. I finished my cup and I decided that I'd had enough of gods and goddesses for one day.
It would have to wait for some other time.
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"But I don't want a soulmate! Heck I don't even want a girlfriend!" I protested loudly.
Both the genie and Hera looked at me questioningly.
"Mortal, I can bring you immortality and wealth just by being my boyfriend. Why don't you want to be my soulmate?"
"I'm gay!"
Both of them stare at me before the genie starts to laugh "Haha Hera, seems like you found your soulmate. Though she isn't yours, Tom." He said talking back to me.
Hera looked furious "I divorced Zeus to be with you and you dare refuse me?!"
"The fact that he's now prancing around between the legs of supermodels isn't my fault." I retorted angrily.
"Foolish mortal! You would regret ever talking to me like that!" She snapped her fingers and I was covered in smoke.
I opened my eyes to a wasteland filled with lava.
"Welcome to the underworld, mortal who refused Hera."
(More of my answering writing prompts at r/Copper_tear
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[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
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I couldn't believe my luck. I had bought this Italian villa in an extremely rural (even for Italy) village. My goal was to just escape the modern rat race. I had met my neighbors who were all old enough that if they were in the States, they'd probably be living in a retirement home. Here, they thrived by gardening and drinking red wine. I was excited to join them.
I was digging up my long since ignored "yard" to plant a garden for myself. It was about halfway through my tilling, I hit the box. The box required a bit more digging and I was shocked to find some gold, silver and bronze coins and an oil lamp inside. I told NO ONE.
I brought the box into the house and pulled the lamp out. It was brass and had fancy etchings all over it. I decided to rub it as a joke to myself. "oooohh a Genie is going to come out and grant me wishes!" I said to myself. That's when the smoke started pouring out.
"I'm here! I'm Here! Roll out the Carpets and Ring all the Bells! I'm here!" said a jovial looking man. Well the top half of him. the bottom half was obscured in a smoke tornado that led back to the lamp.
"Uh... Dude, that's from a cartoon in the 1940s or so." I was now very confused.
"Oh, I know, I thought it was hilarious when I saw it in a movie house. Do they still have those? How long has it been? Time doesn't work the same... in there." He pointed at the lamp. "Also, this seems not to be New York, or even OLD York. " He peered out the window, "I end up places after the 3rd wish, speaking of... For setting me free, you get three wishes! How exciting is that for YOU?" He seemed absolutely giddy.
"Well, I want an extremely high speed Internet connection here, in my home, but accessable by me anywhere in town, and free access, with unlimited data. That's my first wish."
"I'm not sure what all that means, but since you know it, I'm gonna use your intent. Granted" with a puff of smoke, there was a black box that showed up next to my computer desk that had an antenna on it. "Your new in Ter Net Connection. It's evidently as fast as the government uses in all the secret places. The guy that installed it in the time it took for you to blink your eyes said not to dig in the area that the cable was laid down in your front garden."
I pulled out my phone and saw my Wi-Fi had changed to GeneNet. I then did a speed test. 100 GB speed! "Excellent! Well Done!" I quipped.
"For my second wish, since I live here in what is really kind of a paradise already I want to be able to understand the languages used around here and speak them without being misunderstood."
"Done!" a puff of smoke and I picked up the local newspaper that had been wrapped around my daily grocery order. It felt like I was reading in English, although I knew I was not.
"Oh, nice! Gratzie!" I was grinning from ear to ear. Life was going to be so much easier. "Finally, I wish to find my soulmate here in my little italian village so that I might grow old with them."
"No wishing for love... " He gave me a stern look.
"Is that a rule?" I asked.
"No, it is not. However, messing with those sorts of things with wishes can be very dangerous and since you've been really easy so far, I'm trying to help you out. You might think you aren't wishing for love asking for a soulmate, " he scoffed, " but understand... THAT is a wish for someone to love you."
"No, it isn't." I lied to them, and myself.
"Okay, well, I've been here 5 minutes and you are almost done, so this gets me back to my home dimension. So, DONE!" With that, there was a puff of smoke, and the genie and the lamp were gone. Next to the box was a note...
"Not sure who left the gold. Enjoy it. It can help fund your retirement here."
And, nothing.
I looked around my living room. I was still by myself. Oh wait, they are somewhere in the village. I had been hot and sweaty from all the digging, so I went and took a shower and got dressed in some nice clothes to go and wander around the village and use my new language skills.
I opened my front door to see a woman in her 30s (ish) with beautiful olive toned skin, ruddy hair and green eyes standing in front of it. She was wearing what looked like a toga or some sort of robes. I had never seen her before around town. I decided to try my Italiano...
*"Hello, nice to meet you. How can I help you?"* I gave a big warm smile and held out my hand for a handshake.
"Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods from Mt. Olympus. You summoned *me* here." her English was impeccable without a hint of accent. I heard a bamf sound behind me and turned to see the Genie back in my living room.
"Is that..." I whispered. Which didn't make sense, because she was 3 feet away from me.
"Yes, she is..." He paused afraid to say the next words, "Your *soulmate*."
"Dude, she's MARRIED!" I said to him, afraid to look back at the woman patiently standing at my door.
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"Are you cheating on me?" Hera asked the question while finishing up the dishes. She stood at the sink, her larger than life head nearly hitting the ceiling, using part of her purple toga as a dishtowel.
Julia was still toweling off her hair from her morning shower. Her long brown hair took forever to dry, but she didn't use a hairdryer as it would frizz up. She twisted it all up in the towel and set it as a turban on the top of her head. She had to balance it carefully as she tilted her head to look up at Hera. "Why are you doing the dishes? We have a dishwasher."
"Where were you last night? I was waiting for you to come home and you were late."
Julia sighed. "I was working. You know that. Alone. No men, just me and the computer."
Hera screwed her lips up and gave Julia a distrustful look. "And no women? No swans? Bulls? No golden rain?"
Julia reached up to squeeze Hera's hand. "No, my soulmate. I'm not like your ex. You really should talk to Dr. Cohen about these things. The trust issues."
Hera's eyes seemed to glow, matching the crown on her head. When she spoke her voice wasn't louder, just more forceful. "I'm not crazy. I don't need to talk to your Stoic Oracle."
Julia continued squeezing her hands and Hera settled down. "Leave the dishes. Have a coffee with me before work. I've only got a couple minutes before things get busy."
The attendant brought in a carafe and poured two cups. Julia cuddled on Hera's lap as they sipped their coffee and gazed out the window at the sunrise coming up over the rolling hills. Hera's eyes wandered to the lamp sitting under security glass above the mantle. "Are you ever going to use that third wish?"
Julia chuckled. "I don't need it. I have everything I want right here. You are the best soulmate I could have asked for. The second wish was more than I could have hoped for."
"But your first wish—" Hera stopped when Julia reached up and placed a finger on her lips.
"Don't talk about work. I only get so much time with you each day and I want to savor it."
They chatted lovingly as the sky brightened slowly from red and orange to clear blue. As Julia set her empty cup of coffee down, a bell rang. She got up and untwisted the towel from her hair. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on Hera's neck. "Duty calls. I'll see you after work."
The door opened as two men entered, in black uniforms with lightning bolt insignia on the chests. They knelt in unison. The taller of the two spoke. "My Lord, there is much news today of the war. Your enemies flee before your power."
Julia handed the towel to a faceless attendant. "Very good. Arise. First, tell me about progress on the Lightning Projector, then I'll want to see the latest troop deployments, then we'll go over reports on..."
As Julia walked off surrounded by troops, Hera smiled. She really was the perfect match.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\]
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[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate."
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As she sank to the floor, Hera adjusted her pink toga and sighed ever so slightly. "What is it with me and mortal men?" she said. "I'm drawn like a moth to the funeral pyre."
Bellamy, the genie that had just popped out in a cloud of smoke from my new French press, bowed his head. "I'm not the matchmaker," he said. "My father was in the soul-bonding business. Nearly broke him. He was a shadow of a man when he retired. I mean, he was born as a shadow, *but still*."
I had just wanted a nice cup of coffee. I ordered a French press online because I have a friend who called it a game-changer. After I had already ordered it, I visited him and it turned out he didn't even own one. He just liked the 'aesthetic', as he put it. Once it arrived, I gave it a simple squeeze, and ...
"How about you mount me like a mare?" said Hera. She wrapped her arms around me. Perfumed with a scent of hibiscus and staring at me with copper eyes she certainly had the presence of a goddess.
I blushed. "I've never even been on a horse."
Hera arched an eyebrow. "On?"
Slinking backward I suddenly found myself pressed against the wall. "W-What about Zeus?" I said.
She pouted. "Why are you bringing up my brother?"
"Brother?" I said. "I thought he was your husband."
Laughing, Hera said, "We're gods. Why should we care about your silly taboos?"
I gave Bellamy a look. He shrugged his airy shoulders. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that, actually," I said.
Removing my belt in one smooth motion, she said, "So why don't you make yourself ... comfortable?"
Her cougar vibes were starting to get to me. I didn't like where this was going. "Look," I said. "You're a very lovely lady, and I'm sure you'll make some mere mortal very happy some day, but—"
Hera put her index finger over my lips. "Shh. I get it," she said.
A bird flew in through an open window and sat down next to my French press.
"You do?" I said.
"Of course. You have been spellbound by my beauty. It happens *all the time*."
"That's not really—"
"Transfixed by the sight of divinity you fear you won't be able to ... *perform*."
The bird cooed.
As Hera opened her belt, I stopped her. "I just wanted some coffee," I told her. "Fancy coffee. I didn't expect ... all of this."
The goddess frowned. "Coffee?"
"A hot bean drink. Quite popular with mortals," said Bellamy.
Her face reddened and she balled her fists. "Coffee?" she repeated.
"... Yes?"
I looked at Bellamy. He didn't seem to know more than I did. But when I looked at the bird, I could see it carefully stepping back.
"CAFFEINA!!?? A ROMAN GODDESS!?"
Fire and steam rose from her celestial body.
"You ... heathen! Fool! You have the queen of Greek gods before you and all you can think about is the lesser goddess of lesser men?"
I waved my arms in front of me. "I wasn't talking a goddess. I just wanted coffee. Actual coffee. To drink."
Hera simmered down immediately. "... Is that right?" she said. Circling her sandal on the floor, she said, shyly, "You must think I'm a mess."
"No!" I said. "I mean ..."
"Just forget it. Soulmate or not, it doesn't matter. You," she said, pointing at the bird. "Are you going to sit there like some creep all day?"
The bird transformed into Zeus, its true form, and said, "Sorry. You know I kind of like to ... You know."
"Watch?" she said. "I know all about your ... interests. It's a tale as old as Greece."
"Is that a French press?" said Zeus. "Damn. These things are *fancy*. I've always meant to get one of these. I have a friend who tells me it's a real game-changer."
"Would you like a cup?" I said.
The four of us sat for a while drinking coffee. Turns out, French press coffee just tastes like regular coffee. And it makes a mess. In case you were thinking about getting one.
Hera and Zeus said their goodbyes and headed back to Olympus, to my great relief. As for Bellamy ...
"If you ever feel lonely, just give it a press and think of me," he said. "I'm sure you'll find your next soulmate to be more your style."
"You mean there are more than one?"
"Of course," he said. "Just think about it. What if your one true soulmate was a Mongolian farmer who died two thousand years ago? You'd never meet them organically if that was the case."
"Huh. I guess that makes sense."
Bellamy left in a puff of smoke. As I sipped on my cup of coffee, I felt a bit curious. I wondered what that Roman goddess called Caffeina looked like. I finished my cup and I decided that I'd had enough of gods and goddesses for one day.
It would have to wait for some other time.
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"Are you cheating on me?" Hera asked the question while finishing up the dishes. She stood at the sink, her larger than life head nearly hitting the ceiling, using part of her purple toga as a dishtowel.
Julia was still toweling off her hair from her morning shower. Her long brown hair took forever to dry, but she didn't use a hairdryer as it would frizz up. She twisted it all up in the towel and set it as a turban on the top of her head. She had to balance it carefully as she tilted her head to look up at Hera. "Why are you doing the dishes? We have a dishwasher."
"Where were you last night? I was waiting for you to come home and you were late."
Julia sighed. "I was working. You know that. Alone. No men, just me and the computer."
Hera screwed her lips up and gave Julia a distrustful look. "And no women? No swans? Bulls? No golden rain?"
Julia reached up to squeeze Hera's hand. "No, my soulmate. I'm not like your ex. You really should talk to Dr. Cohen about these things. The trust issues."
Hera's eyes seemed to glow, matching the crown on her head. When she spoke her voice wasn't louder, just more forceful. "I'm not crazy. I don't need to talk to your Stoic Oracle."
Julia continued squeezing her hands and Hera settled down. "Leave the dishes. Have a coffee with me before work. I've only got a couple minutes before things get busy."
The attendant brought in a carafe and poured two cups. Julia cuddled on Hera's lap as they sipped their coffee and gazed out the window at the sunrise coming up over the rolling hills. Hera's eyes wandered to the lamp sitting under security glass above the mantle. "Are you ever going to use that third wish?"
Julia chuckled. "I don't need it. I have everything I want right here. You are the best soulmate I could have asked for. The second wish was more than I could have hoped for."
"But your first wish—" Hera stopped when Julia reached up and placed a finger on her lips.
"Don't talk about work. I only get so much time with you each day and I want to savor it."
They chatted lovingly as the sky brightened slowly from red and orange to clear blue. As Julia set her empty cup of coffee down, a bell rang. She got up and untwisted the towel from her hair. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on Hera's neck. "Duty calls. I'll see you after work."
The door opened as two men entered, in black uniforms with lightning bolt insignia on the chests. They knelt in unison. The taller of the two spoke. "My Lord, there is much news today of the war. Your enemies flee before your power."
Julia handed the towel to a faceless attendant. "Very good. Arise. First, tell me about progress on the Lightning Projector, then I'll want to see the latest troop deployments, then we'll go over reports on..."
As Julia walked off surrounded by troops, Hera smiled. She really was the perfect match.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\]
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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I wake to the whoosh of blades slicing the air. It is a sound I know well. I have imagined it so many times, perfected the tones of it in my head.
Except I never expected to actually hear it. Am I still dreaming?
I’ve frequently had the feeling that the words I write are put there by an otherworldly power, that I write because the words want to be written, at that time, in that order. Have I finally caught my muse in their delivery of ideas?
“I know you are awake,” the voice is soft, deep and dangerous. Not a dream, then. A home invasion.
“Relax, I am not going to hurt you. Now sit up, slowly and quietly,” he says.
I obey. And because part of me is still thinking of *him*, I take a peek.
Oh, Dave! It *is* him! Exactly the way I imagined him - face, physique, clothes and the double-bladed stick!
If I die tonight, I will still be grateful that my killer bothered to cosplay my character, and that too with such perfection.
What’s wrong with me?! I’m about to die!
Yeah, yeah. We’ll think about that later, a part of my brain says. Just look at that smirk. He’s even perfected the smirk!
*You are not going to die. Probably.*
“Sorry? Was that you?”
*You gave me the ability to read thoughts and speak mind-to-mind, didn’t you?*
“But…?” This is harder than I make out in my book. I try again. *But you are not real!*
He smirks again. Oh Dave! I’d die for that smirk. I’m totally fangirling right now and if he is real, he can hear everything! Stop, just stop!
*I became real the moment you wrote the words down. All of us. We exist.*
*You do? Is that why you are here? Because of what happens.* I gulp. He has every right to be mad at me.
He is quiet and I can’t stop myself. I have wanted to say this out loud for so long. “K…Kuh?”
He looks away. “I wish I had known the future sooner and stopped you. It’s too late now anyway.”
“You are not a killer, Kuh,” I say gently.
He looks at me in surprise. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I was thinking of a deal, maybe.”
“Oh! Sorry!” I relax.
“Besides, I thought, what if you are also just a story, a figment of someone’s imagination. What if that’s all we are, stories wrought by an overactive mind?”
“They do say that the world is merely a dream being dreamt by Lord Vishnu,” I shrug.
“Yeah,” he straightens and retracts his blades. The stick also collapses into itself and becomes a baton. I have imagined it so many times, but it is another thing to see it happen for real. As real as this moment is!
He turns to leave. “Are you okay, Kuh?” I ask.
“I am stuck. I want the story to move forward. I want to know what happens next. Keep writing, won’t you?”
“Yes, Kuh. Is that why you came here?”
He motioned to my phone. I remembered the writing prompt I was reading before I slept. *I came because it was written. And to tell you that we are all frozen in time and to pull yourself together and move the story ahead already!*
I stifled a smile. *Yes, Kuh.*
He nodded and disappeared.
|
(i am not a writer with a bestseller, or a sequel, or a finished book in general, so i will just base it off of my in-progress book idea)
I never expected it to ever actually happen. After all, it was just fiction, and even though i was the main character of that fiction, it was just because i wrote it based on my fantasies. Or, at least, i thought they were fantasies, until they were in my room in the dead of night.
I remember waking up after hearing a noise in my room, a loud banging that was way too loud to be the washing machine or anything else normal. Stretching, i started to get up in my bed, and saw someone at the foot of my bed. I didn’t even get to react before they quickly noticed this and moved to cover my mouth to keep me from shouting. “Quiet, don’t make a sound!”
I was startled by the voice. They sounded exactly like me!
“We need to go,” the person continued, “I don’t have much time. I can explain later, but for now, just get your glasses and come with me.”
I followed what they said, confused by what was going on, but going along with it in case. We headed downstairs, and out the back door, which was unlocked with the key taped underneath the doormat. How did he know that was there? We continued until we reached near the woods, and then he turned to me. I could not describe how shocked i was from what i saw… They were me?!?
“Listen, other me. I know that you never expected this, but we are somehow in the same universe, or, to be more exact, you are in mines.”
“Wait, so you are saying, if i’m correct, is that my book universe is real? That i just happened to write about what happened in an alternate reality?”
“Well, yeah, but more like our existence was created when you wrote your book. But that isn’t the point. The point is, you somehow are here, i don’t know how or why, but it’s causing some sort of imbalance, and i’m the one being erased from existence as a result.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, i’m surprised too. I know that i am a lot tougher and confident than you from character development and stuff, but i need you to replace me. The story needs me, or, in this case, either of us in order to keep the balance, so i need you to take my place. Go save the Otherworld.”
“I…” I was completely flabbergasted from everything i had to take in.
“Don’t worry, you got this. You have to, after all.”
And with that, the other me disappeared, leaving me in front of the woods to start the journey i thought i would only ever achieve in fiction.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
(Hahaha yes! Always wanted to write about that)
"What the?.." I said out loud, "am I dreaming again?". I woke up to find a tall blond man with freezing blue eyes in my room. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up" he said with a weird accent.
So I wasn't sleeping.
I felt as I know him, like an old memory, "do- no, have we met befor?" I asked him, he just nodded no. "Well I belive you met me, I just haven't met you, not in this world anyway" he replays.
As I looked in his eyes I Suddenly felt shiver going down my spine, I finally reconizes him, "Michael?" I ask.
"Yea?" He answer with a smile, it was creepy. "How are you here?" I demanded. "Easy, you wrote about a world with humans who have super netrul abilities, once the story was complete we suddenlly apear in space, trying to reach you" Michael replayed fast.
"Reach me? Why?" I asked scared, *"was other books I created cane to life? Are they after me as well?"*
"Well... you see" michael said "its just..."
"We got a few tiny complaints about the story"
u/loonywolf_art (my first time writing here, also I am on my phone so sorry if its space weird)
|
(i am not a writer with a bestseller, or a sequel, or a finished book in general, so i will just base it off of my in-progress book idea)
I never expected it to ever actually happen. After all, it was just fiction, and even though i was the main character of that fiction, it was just because i wrote it based on my fantasies. Or, at least, i thought they were fantasies, until they were in my room in the dead of night.
I remember waking up after hearing a noise in my room, a loud banging that was way too loud to be the washing machine or anything else normal. Stretching, i started to get up in my bed, and saw someone at the foot of my bed. I didn’t even get to react before they quickly noticed this and moved to cover my mouth to keep me from shouting. “Quiet, don’t make a sound!”
I was startled by the voice. They sounded exactly like me!
“We need to go,” the person continued, “I don’t have much time. I can explain later, but for now, just get your glasses and come with me.”
I followed what they said, confused by what was going on, but going along with it in case. We headed downstairs, and out the back door, which was unlocked with the key taped underneath the doormat. How did he know that was there? We continued until we reached near the woods, and then he turned to me. I could not describe how shocked i was from what i saw… They were me?!?
“Listen, other me. I know that you never expected this, but we are somehow in the same universe, or, to be more exact, you are in mines.”
“Wait, so you are saying, if i’m correct, is that my book universe is real? That i just happened to write about what happened in an alternate reality?”
“Well, yeah, but more like our existence was created when you wrote your book. But that isn’t the point. The point is, you somehow are here, i don’t know how or why, but it’s causing some sort of imbalance, and i’m the one being erased from existence as a result.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, i’m surprised too. I know that i am a lot tougher and confident than you from character development and stuff, but i need you to replace me. The story needs me, or, in this case, either of us in order to keep the balance, so i need you to take my place. Go save the Otherworld.”
“I…” I was completely flabbergasted from everything i had to take in.
“Don’t worry, you got this. You have to, after all.”
And with that, the other me disappeared, leaving me in front of the woods to start the journey i thought i would only ever achieve in fiction.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
**The Lord**
**Act 1 Scene 1**
*A God is seated at his table.*
*Laptop, phone, printer, and writing pads.*
*Crumpled notes on the floor and some universes are in his dustbin.*
*A vein pops in his temple and he is currently irritated.*
Enter Goddess.
**Goddess:** Worlds when viewed from afar
are all dots and seem to be filled
with nothing else but stars.
But you, my Lord, untainted and pure,
whose form is without scars,
Why are you so worried ?
I wonder what your problems are.
Which keeps you from me and thus keeps me afar.
​
**God:** A light in thought of mine was lit.
Which with words I neatly did knit
Yet for lack of some wit
I did left out a bit
And have marred the rhythm of reality.
Tell me O goddess.
What is reality?
**Goddess:** Nothing but fiction.
A Rhythm it is
A line
Or some diction.
​
They delve in some thoughts deep
They retrieve from depths some worlds
They compose in lines to keep
the wisdom of heart in their words.
Reality O Lord is naught but fiction
A tale told by them. The Idiots.
Yet filled with sense and emotions.
A book with chapters uneven
With pages and index.
Reality O Lord is that which is written
And all that is not written
Is not reality.
**God:** And the writer of our own reality is who?
Who has written us into existence?
Goddess: To author a world is to be it's Lord.
A Lord it is who has written these worlds.
We are living in Author's Invention.
**God:** And Inventor of Author? Who is it? Meseems a fault in the invention.
**Goddess:** Aye, from a tree is born a seed, and from seed does spring out the tree.
What is the seed?
What is the Tree?
Those who travel in circles reach,
The Beginning
At the end of their journey.
**God:** My senses are ringing,
My thoughts are singing
But you, My Queen
Have confused my orientations.
I know not who I am
A writer or a Being.
A character am I?
Written in haste or confusion ?
**Goddess:** A fusion of sense and time
Has given you form, your words defined
Now let me remind,
So you may find
The end to all
And one single solution.
Dwell do not on seed and source
And do the deed without confusion.
A God you are, Creator - Inventor
Invent the world without confusion.
Let there be Life.
Then there'll be fusion.
Create your World O God.
Create your World without confusion.
**God:** Let there be light ?
**Goddess:** Let there be Music.
*Music emerges from Void.*
*Infinite Parallel Universes spring from the Mind of God's and establish themselves in SpaceTime.*
*Drum Cymbals are crashing.*
*Drum Beats are rolling.*
*A chorus.*
*A harmony.*
*Chords combine matter and planets are born.*
*Cosmic Fusion.*
**God:** Traces are left at edge of beach.
On sand, there are imprints.
But they fade away.
My darling.
The world I've made does fade away.
What one must do to save the world?
To protect this world,
What must one do ?
**Goddess:** Give it name O Lord.
Give it a name and it's yours.
**God:** Ia she is. This world of mine.
Pretty as a princess and profound like an ocean.
Let her live for a trillion years.
Let her bear
In her womb
Life
Triple the times of trillion
And trillion times trillion
And even more.
Ia my daughter, A Universe you are.
May you live happily ever after.
May your children become Beings of Light.
Manifest now and be free.
Be free from me and become independent.
*Ia is alive.*
*Her hair is ornamented with galaxies.*
*Her eyes are black holes.*
*Her body is the universe.*
*Her breath is energy.*
*Her laughter is life.*
*And her Beauty is Music.*
*She is dancing in front of God and Goddess.*
Exit God
Exit Goddess
**Ia:** Let there be Music.
*Life Forms awaken from slumber.*
|
(i am not a writer with a bestseller, or a sequel, or a finished book in general, so i will just base it off of my in-progress book idea)
I never expected it to ever actually happen. After all, it was just fiction, and even though i was the main character of that fiction, it was just because i wrote it based on my fantasies. Or, at least, i thought they were fantasies, until they were in my room in the dead of night.
I remember waking up after hearing a noise in my room, a loud banging that was way too loud to be the washing machine or anything else normal. Stretching, i started to get up in my bed, and saw someone at the foot of my bed. I didn’t even get to react before they quickly noticed this and moved to cover my mouth to keep me from shouting. “Quiet, don’t make a sound!”
I was startled by the voice. They sounded exactly like me!
“We need to go,” the person continued, “I don’t have much time. I can explain later, but for now, just get your glasses and come with me.”
I followed what they said, confused by what was going on, but going along with it in case. We headed downstairs, and out the back door, which was unlocked with the key taped underneath the doormat. How did he know that was there? We continued until we reached near the woods, and then he turned to me. I could not describe how shocked i was from what i saw… They were me?!?
“Listen, other me. I know that you never expected this, but we are somehow in the same universe, or, to be more exact, you are in mines.”
“Wait, so you are saying, if i’m correct, is that my book universe is real? That i just happened to write about what happened in an alternate reality?”
“Well, yeah, but more like our existence was created when you wrote your book. But that isn’t the point. The point is, you somehow are here, i don’t know how or why, but it’s causing some sort of imbalance, and i’m the one being erased from existence as a result.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, i’m surprised too. I know that i am a lot tougher and confident than you from character development and stuff, but i need you to replace me. The story needs me, or, in this case, either of us in order to keep the balance, so i need you to take my place. Go save the Otherworld.”
“I…” I was completely flabbergasted from everything i had to take in.
“Don’t worry, you got this. You have to, after all.”
And with that, the other me disappeared, leaving me in front of the woods to start the journey i thought i would only ever achieve in fiction.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
He sighed looking at the page that was half covered with spidery writing in thick black ink. Turning away, he stumbled across to the bed and slumped onto it. That was enough writinf for today.
Part of him felt bad for his characters, despite them not beimg real. He killed alot of them, leaving the main character alone in a desolate land, but he didn't have a choice, he couldn't control the story at that point, it had made itself.
His eyes fluttered closed as sleep crept like mist i to his mind.
Sudenly he was snapped out of sleep by the noise of someone moving across the room. He sat up instinctively, not feeling threatened by the person. He felt like he knew them, but the silhouette from the light past the open door did not match anyone he was acquainted with.
"Hello?"
She voice was soft, laced with sadness and pain, as if she was lost and jad been devastated by something. He stood, and then sat on the side of the bed when he realised that made him taller than him to an intimidating degree. She was short and slim, as if easily breakable, despite the muscles outlining her legs and arms. She seemed delicate, like she had forgotten what it was like to have power, and to be respected and loved. She met his eyes and the pain swelling in them broke his heart.
"what's your name?" he asked. It seemed like a good start.
"can you not tell? It's me, Emily, please timothy you know me, you know me, i know you do."
"Emily? Emily who?" He knew a few Emilys, but none of them were this one.
"Emily Dunchurch, it's me, the girl you created."
He flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and almoast passed out. It was Emily Dunchurch. He didn't know how, but it was.
She had exactly the same face as she had had in his head, the same scar running down the left side of her face, the hair that was swept around her face in a wirlwind, the same lip, beaten up by her habbit of bitting it when she was anxious, as she was doing now, the same young features that fit a girl in her late teens.
She was here. And she wanted to talk.
|
(i am not a writer with a bestseller, or a sequel, or a finished book in general, so i will just base it off of my in-progress book idea)
I never expected it to ever actually happen. After all, it was just fiction, and even though i was the main character of that fiction, it was just because i wrote it based on my fantasies. Or, at least, i thought they were fantasies, until they were in my room in the dead of night.
I remember waking up after hearing a noise in my room, a loud banging that was way too loud to be the washing machine or anything else normal. Stretching, i started to get up in my bed, and saw someone at the foot of my bed. I didn’t even get to react before they quickly noticed this and moved to cover my mouth to keep me from shouting. “Quiet, don’t make a sound!”
I was startled by the voice. They sounded exactly like me!
“We need to go,” the person continued, “I don’t have much time. I can explain later, but for now, just get your glasses and come with me.”
I followed what they said, confused by what was going on, but going along with it in case. We headed downstairs, and out the back door, which was unlocked with the key taped underneath the doormat. How did he know that was there? We continued until we reached near the woods, and then he turned to me. I could not describe how shocked i was from what i saw… They were me?!?
“Listen, other me. I know that you never expected this, but we are somehow in the same universe, or, to be more exact, you are in mines.”
“Wait, so you are saying, if i’m correct, is that my book universe is real? That i just happened to write about what happened in an alternate reality?”
“Well, yeah, but more like our existence was created when you wrote your book. But that isn’t the point. The point is, you somehow are here, i don’t know how or why, but it’s causing some sort of imbalance, and i’m the one being erased from existence as a result.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, i’m surprised too. I know that i am a lot tougher and confident than you from character development and stuff, but i need you to replace me. The story needs me, or, in this case, either of us in order to keep the balance, so i need you to take my place. Go save the Otherworld.”
“I…” I was completely flabbergasted from everything i had to take in.
“Don’t worry, you got this. You have to, after all.”
And with that, the other me disappeared, leaving me in front of the woods to start the journey i thought i would only ever achieve in fiction.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
I wake to the whoosh of blades slicing the air. It is a sound I know well. I have imagined it so many times, perfected the tones of it in my head.
Except I never expected to actually hear it. Am I still dreaming?
I’ve frequently had the feeling that the words I write are put there by an otherworldly power, that I write because the words want to be written, at that time, in that order. Have I finally caught my muse in their delivery of ideas?
“I know you are awake,” the voice is soft, deep and dangerous. Not a dream, then. A home invasion.
“Relax, I am not going to hurt you. Now sit up, slowly and quietly,” he says.
I obey. And because part of me is still thinking of *him*, I take a peek.
Oh, Dave! It *is* him! Exactly the way I imagined him - face, physique, clothes and the double-bladed stick!
If I die tonight, I will still be grateful that my killer bothered to cosplay my character, and that too with such perfection.
What’s wrong with me?! I’m about to die!
Yeah, yeah. We’ll think about that later, a part of my brain says. Just look at that smirk. He’s even perfected the smirk!
*You are not going to die. Probably.*
“Sorry? Was that you?”
*You gave me the ability to read thoughts and speak mind-to-mind, didn’t you?*
“But…?” This is harder than I make out in my book. I try again. *But you are not real!*
He smirks again. Oh Dave! I’d die for that smirk. I’m totally fangirling right now and if he is real, he can hear everything! Stop, just stop!
*I became real the moment you wrote the words down. All of us. We exist.*
*You do? Is that why you are here? Because of what happens.* I gulp. He has every right to be mad at me.
He is quiet and I can’t stop myself. I have wanted to say this out loud for so long. “K…Kuh?”
He looks away. “I wish I had known the future sooner and stopped you. It’s too late now anyway.”
“You are not a killer, Kuh,” I say gently.
He looks at me in surprise. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I was thinking of a deal, maybe.”
“Oh! Sorry!” I relax.
“Besides, I thought, what if you are also just a story, a figment of someone’s imagination. What if that’s all we are, stories wrought by an overactive mind?”
“They do say that the world is merely a dream being dreamt by Lord Vishnu,” I shrug.
“Yeah,” he straightens and retracts his blades. The stick also collapses into itself and becomes a baton. I have imagined it so many times, but it is another thing to see it happen for real. As real as this moment is!
He turns to leave. “Are you okay, Kuh?” I ask.
“I am stuck. I want the story to move forward. I want to know what happens next. Keep writing, won’t you?”
“Yes, Kuh. Is that why you came here?”
He motioned to my phone. I remembered the writing prompt I was reading before I slept. *I came because it was written. And to tell you that we are all frozen in time and to pull yourself together and move the story ahead already!*
I stifled a smile. *Yes, Kuh.*
He nodded and disappeared.
|
"And... finished!" Sakeira sighs, a hard nights work of writing 3 chapters deserves a swig of wine. "Heh, Arjou would not approve." She took a final stretch from her office chair, than got up towards the kitchen. Living in a small apartment could never be more helpful until now. She opens the fridge to find her wine gone. "Did I forget to buy more..." Sakeira mutters under her breath. She hears a subtle clinking noise nearby. She turns around, suddenly shocked at the sight.
"HOW THE HELL DID A COSPLAYER GET IN MY FUCKING HOUSE?!" Sakeira shouts, which echoes throughout the room. "Wait...HOW THE HELL DOES ARJOU ALREADY HAVE COSPLAYS?!" She again shouts, her voice cracking under shock. "Um...I'm not quite sure what a cosplay is...but I am Arjou if that's what you are asking." The now revealed Arjou gives a warm smile before throwing away the rest of the wine bottles. From the appearance of the sink, it appears they have also poured the wine down the drain. "That was $20..." Sakeira looked down the sink with a slightly sorrowful glare. "You probably should have used that $20 for something non-alcoholic, such as a vacuum cleaner." Arjou looks around the room, their pointy blue ears flickering with disgust. "Oh my god you really are Arjou..." Sakeira mutters.
And I'll just end it off right there, because it's 4:00AM and I'm tired-
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
**The Lord**
**Act 1 Scene 1**
*A God is seated at his table.*
*Laptop, phone, printer, and writing pads.*
*Crumpled notes on the floor and some universes are in his dustbin.*
*A vein pops in his temple and he is currently irritated.*
Enter Goddess.
**Goddess:** Worlds when viewed from afar
are all dots and seem to be filled
with nothing else but stars.
But you, my Lord, untainted and pure,
whose form is without scars,
Why are you so worried ?
I wonder what your problems are.
Which keeps you from me and thus keeps me afar.
​
**God:** A light in thought of mine was lit.
Which with words I neatly did knit
Yet for lack of some wit
I did left out a bit
And have marred the rhythm of reality.
Tell me O goddess.
What is reality?
**Goddess:** Nothing but fiction.
A Rhythm it is
A line
Or some diction.
​
They delve in some thoughts deep
They retrieve from depths some worlds
They compose in lines to keep
the wisdom of heart in their words.
Reality O Lord is naught but fiction
A tale told by them. The Idiots.
Yet filled with sense and emotions.
A book with chapters uneven
With pages and index.
Reality O Lord is that which is written
And all that is not written
Is not reality.
**God:** And the writer of our own reality is who?
Who has written us into existence?
Goddess: To author a world is to be it's Lord.
A Lord it is who has written these worlds.
We are living in Author's Invention.
**God:** And Inventor of Author? Who is it? Meseems a fault in the invention.
**Goddess:** Aye, from a tree is born a seed, and from seed does spring out the tree.
What is the seed?
What is the Tree?
Those who travel in circles reach,
The Beginning
At the end of their journey.
**God:** My senses are ringing,
My thoughts are singing
But you, My Queen
Have confused my orientations.
I know not who I am
A writer or a Being.
A character am I?
Written in haste or confusion ?
**Goddess:** A fusion of sense and time
Has given you form, your words defined
Now let me remind,
So you may find
The end to all
And one single solution.
Dwell do not on seed and source
And do the deed without confusion.
A God you are, Creator - Inventor
Invent the world without confusion.
Let there be Life.
Then there'll be fusion.
Create your World O God.
Create your World without confusion.
**God:** Let there be light ?
**Goddess:** Let there be Music.
*Music emerges from Void.*
*Infinite Parallel Universes spring from the Mind of God's and establish themselves in SpaceTime.*
*Drum Cymbals are crashing.*
*Drum Beats are rolling.*
*A chorus.*
*A harmony.*
*Chords combine matter and planets are born.*
*Cosmic Fusion.*
**God:** Traces are left at edge of beach.
On sand, there are imprints.
But they fade away.
My darling.
The world I've made does fade away.
What one must do to save the world?
To protect this world,
What must one do ?
**Goddess:** Give it name O Lord.
Give it a name and it's yours.
**God:** Ia she is. This world of mine.
Pretty as a princess and profound like an ocean.
Let her live for a trillion years.
Let her bear
In her womb
Life
Triple the times of trillion
And trillion times trillion
And even more.
Ia my daughter, A Universe you are.
May you live happily ever after.
May your children become Beings of Light.
Manifest now and be free.
Be free from me and become independent.
*Ia is alive.*
*Her hair is ornamented with galaxies.*
*Her eyes are black holes.*
*Her body is the universe.*
*Her breath is energy.*
*Her laughter is life.*
*And her Beauty is Music.*
*She is dancing in front of God and Goddess.*
Exit God
Exit Goddess
**Ia:** Let there be Music.
*Life Forms awaken from slumber.*
|
John woke with a start, ice cold sweat running down his back and his heart pounding in his chest. This was the third night in a row he had woken up like this, and quite frankly he was tired of it. It cut into his ability to write, which was vital considering he had quit his job to write for money.
He reached for the glass of water he kept on his counter top only to find it gone, as well as a broken alarm clock. Confusion swept over his still tired mind until he heard it clink back down.
" Very refreshing, your engineers should be very proud of how well filtered it is." A voice that he and only he knew spoke, one he oft tried to imitate when writing for her. His wandering hands scrabbled for his glasses and upon putting them on reached for the light switch.
Orange eyes burned into his soul and a smile too large for any humans face reached from side to side." Hello John. I would introduce myself, but well," a laugh that wasn't one came from something approximating a throat, the sound one of ancient flesh and promises of danger from long past, " it would be wasted on the both of us. You know who I am," she pointed a hand towards herself, and then towards him, "and I you."
The eldritch being playing at being human stood up, stepping closer with soft thud after thud, things that looked like feet in heels but weren't pressing against his carpet. A claw grabbed him by his shirt and drew him close, leaving just enough space for him to look anywhere on her face but her eyes. " I think it's time we had a talk, creation to creator."
"H-how are you here? You shouldn't be here. You arent real!"
" Then if I'm not real," a limb he knew could rend mountains in half slapped against his face, leaving only the promise of a bruise, " then you are having a VERY vivid hallucination. Once again, let's not waste our time John." She said his name with a sneer, contempt clear in her voice. " Now, you wrote me, yes?"
" Yes, I did, as the villian." He managed to choke down his tears, body shaking as she lifted him up some and pressed him against the wall with a slam, a loud yelp leaving him as pain shot through him.
" Shut up. Now. You wrote me. You wrote our world. I piggy backed iff your little hero," his eyes went to the aide and saw the body of a young girl with a look of rictus fear on her face. Her name was Emelia, and she was the hero of his story. Or, was supposed to be with her friends. Friends she seemed to lack here. Something very much not a tongue swiped against decidedly not lips. He tried not to look too closely, for fear of noticing the near writhing flesh he knew would be there if he paid attention. " Which means you can change it. And you," a nail turned crystal claw ran down his chest, cutting into his shirt and skin and drawing forward a thin rivulet of blood, " are going to make a change for me. Several actually."
He didnt know how but a moment later he was in front of his desk, laptop booted up and fresh coffee off to the side, on the coaster and in his favorite mug. And all the while, he could feel something g resembling a hand gently squeeze his neck, while her one singular voice split into multiple, all sounding like those close to him and all ringing after the first.
" Now John, the biggest change I want you to make is this." She tapped on his computer screen, running a finger with no nail under a certain paragraph. " You see how they lock me in after I come here? After I finally get to see my wife again after thousands of years of waiting, of looking and searching?" She hissed into his ear, a headache forming from the sheer weight of her prescence alone. " I want you to change that to something more like," and she pushed forward a piece of paper next to him, "this."
He grabbed it and slowly brought it up to his face, eyes going wide. " But, this would undercut the whole message of the book. It wouldnt fit with their characters or morals at all."
The room went hot and smelled rancid, the hand squeezing down harder. " John. You know me. You made me. So you know how little I could care in this moment. I have a chance to fix EVERYTHING. Everything wrong with my world. If I could I would have made you change the first story, but it's already published, so I will make do." It turned him around to face orange eyes, and this time he couldnt help but notice the flesh that would settle then start to spasm randomly her face coming undone as pictures of him dead on the floor invaded his mind. Oh fuck, he really had pissed her off hadn't he? The headache was also much worse than before, and judging by the warm feeling from his nose he was fairly certain he had a nosebleed. And maybe his eyes as well.
" You will write, or I will hunt down your family. Your friends. That homeless man you give a burger to on Thursdays. And I will butcher them in front of you, burning them person by person, until you make the changes I want."
He was spun back around to the computer, and slowly, hesitantly, began to type.
Non human eyes ran over the screen and he knew she was smiling, even if he dared not look again, wiping at the blood on his face with a tissue she Oh so kindly provided.
" Now, I think since you are so concerned with consistency, maybe you should do this." She implanted the words into his head, not even reacting to his cries of pain.
But, he was weak, and he wrote into the (night? He lost all track of time) and he wrote, obeying the monster inside his head.
(Soo, I know I deviated from the prompt just a tad, but the idea of a villian following with the hero just popped into my head and I couldnt help but write it.)
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
He sighed looking at the page that was half covered with spidery writing in thick black ink. Turning away, he stumbled across to the bed and slumped onto it. That was enough writinf for today.
Part of him felt bad for his characters, despite them not beimg real. He killed alot of them, leaving the main character alone in a desolate land, but he didn't have a choice, he couldn't control the story at that point, it had made itself.
His eyes fluttered closed as sleep crept like mist i to his mind.
Sudenly he was snapped out of sleep by the noise of someone moving across the room. He sat up instinctively, not feeling threatened by the person. He felt like he knew them, but the silhouette from the light past the open door did not match anyone he was acquainted with.
"Hello?"
She voice was soft, laced with sadness and pain, as if she was lost and jad been devastated by something. He stood, and then sat on the side of the bed when he realised that made him taller than him to an intimidating degree. She was short and slim, as if easily breakable, despite the muscles outlining her legs and arms. She seemed delicate, like she had forgotten what it was like to have power, and to be respected and loved. She met his eyes and the pain swelling in them broke his heart.
"what's your name?" he asked. It seemed like a good start.
"can you not tell? It's me, Emily, please timothy you know me, you know me, i know you do."
"Emily? Emily who?" He knew a few Emilys, but none of them were this one.
"Emily Dunchurch, it's me, the girl you created."
He flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and almoast passed out. It was Emily Dunchurch. He didn't know how, but it was.
She had exactly the same face as she had had in his head, the same scar running down the left side of her face, the hair that was swept around her face in a wirlwind, the same lip, beaten up by her habbit of bitting it when she was anxious, as she was doing now, the same young features that fit a girl in her late teens.
She was here. And she wanted to talk.
|
John woke with a start, ice cold sweat running down his back and his heart pounding in his chest. This was the third night in a row he had woken up like this, and quite frankly he was tired of it. It cut into his ability to write, which was vital considering he had quit his job to write for money.
He reached for the glass of water he kept on his counter top only to find it gone, as well as a broken alarm clock. Confusion swept over his still tired mind until he heard it clink back down.
" Very refreshing, your engineers should be very proud of how well filtered it is." A voice that he and only he knew spoke, one he oft tried to imitate when writing for her. His wandering hands scrabbled for his glasses and upon putting them on reached for the light switch.
Orange eyes burned into his soul and a smile too large for any humans face reached from side to side." Hello John. I would introduce myself, but well," a laugh that wasn't one came from something approximating a throat, the sound one of ancient flesh and promises of danger from long past, " it would be wasted on the both of us. You know who I am," she pointed a hand towards herself, and then towards him, "and I you."
The eldritch being playing at being human stood up, stepping closer with soft thud after thud, things that looked like feet in heels but weren't pressing against his carpet. A claw grabbed him by his shirt and drew him close, leaving just enough space for him to look anywhere on her face but her eyes. " I think it's time we had a talk, creation to creator."
"H-how are you here? You shouldn't be here. You arent real!"
" Then if I'm not real," a limb he knew could rend mountains in half slapped against his face, leaving only the promise of a bruise, " then you are having a VERY vivid hallucination. Once again, let's not waste our time John." She said his name with a sneer, contempt clear in her voice. " Now, you wrote me, yes?"
" Yes, I did, as the villian." He managed to choke down his tears, body shaking as she lifted him up some and pressed him against the wall with a slam, a loud yelp leaving him as pain shot through him.
" Shut up. Now. You wrote me. You wrote our world. I piggy backed iff your little hero," his eyes went to the aide and saw the body of a young girl with a look of rictus fear on her face. Her name was Emelia, and she was the hero of his story. Or, was supposed to be with her friends. Friends she seemed to lack here. Something very much not a tongue swiped against decidedly not lips. He tried not to look too closely, for fear of noticing the near writhing flesh he knew would be there if he paid attention. " Which means you can change it. And you," a nail turned crystal claw ran down his chest, cutting into his shirt and skin and drawing forward a thin rivulet of blood, " are going to make a change for me. Several actually."
He didnt know how but a moment later he was in front of his desk, laptop booted up and fresh coffee off to the side, on the coaster and in his favorite mug. And all the while, he could feel something g resembling a hand gently squeeze his neck, while her one singular voice split into multiple, all sounding like those close to him and all ringing after the first.
" Now John, the biggest change I want you to make is this." She tapped on his computer screen, running a finger with no nail under a certain paragraph. " You see how they lock me in after I come here? After I finally get to see my wife again after thousands of years of waiting, of looking and searching?" She hissed into his ear, a headache forming from the sheer weight of her prescence alone. " I want you to change that to something more like," and she pushed forward a piece of paper next to him, "this."
He grabbed it and slowly brought it up to his face, eyes going wide. " But, this would undercut the whole message of the book. It wouldnt fit with their characters or morals at all."
The room went hot and smelled rancid, the hand squeezing down harder. " John. You know me. You made me. So you know how little I could care in this moment. I have a chance to fix EVERYTHING. Everything wrong with my world. If I could I would have made you change the first story, but it's already published, so I will make do." It turned him around to face orange eyes, and this time he couldnt help but notice the flesh that would settle then start to spasm randomly her face coming undone as pictures of him dead on the floor invaded his mind. Oh fuck, he really had pissed her off hadn't he? The headache was also much worse than before, and judging by the warm feeling from his nose he was fairly certain he had a nosebleed. And maybe his eyes as well.
" You will write, or I will hunt down your family. Your friends. That homeless man you give a burger to on Thursdays. And I will butcher them in front of you, burning them person by person, until you make the changes I want."
He was spun back around to the computer, and slowly, hesitantly, began to type.
Non human eyes ran over the screen and he knew she was smiling, even if he dared not look again, wiping at the blood on his face with a tissue she Oh so kindly provided.
" Now, I think since you are so concerned with consistency, maybe you should do this." She implanted the words into his head, not even reacting to his cries of pain.
But, he was weak, and he wrote into the (night? He lost all track of time) and he wrote, obeying the monster inside his head.
(Soo, I know I deviated from the prompt just a tad, but the idea of a villian following with the hero just popped into my head and I couldnt help but write it.)
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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*For the sake of the universe, will you* wake up *?*
I started awake at the sound that echoed in my head, and my eyes gazed around blearily. Beside me, my husband continued to sleep, his snores matching the timing and pitch of the cat, who also continued to snore at his feet.
Standing in front of the bookcases at the foot of our bed was a dark figure, eight feet tall, cloaked in a black robe with its hood up. I started, pushing up the bed, and my husband snorted before rolling over. I debated waking him up, but something about the figure's "voice" was familiar to me.
*Keridwen?*
Yellow eyes glowed under the hood, and I realised I was right. Keridwen, Goddess of Death, Magic and Inspiration, stood at the foot of my bed.
*This is too weird.* I thought, rubbing at my eyes. I had to be dreaming.
*Why are you surprised?* the goddess asked, her golden eyes boring into mine, somehow managing to cast light in the darkness of 2a.m. *Your own works preach the power of belief. How are you surprised I've come for you?*
That gave me pause. My first book spoke of the War of Faith, a war between all the gods that had ever been, and all the humans who had ever dreamed. The War destroyed the planet, cracking it open like an egg, though I hadn't reached that far in the second book yet. With every god man created, the battle lines were drawn more clearly. And with every human born of a faith, the gods drew stronger and more desperate to retain their power.
*Shit.*
*Yes, "shit",* Keridwen said, walking around the bed to stand beside me. *The War of Faith has begun. And you, herald, are being called into service.*
|
John woke with a start, ice cold sweat running down his back and his heart pounding in his chest. This was the third night in a row he had woken up like this, and quite frankly he was tired of it. It cut into his ability to write, which was vital considering he had quit his job to write for money.
He reached for the glass of water he kept on his counter top only to find it gone, as well as a broken alarm clock. Confusion swept over his still tired mind until he heard it clink back down.
" Very refreshing, your engineers should be very proud of how well filtered it is." A voice that he and only he knew spoke, one he oft tried to imitate when writing for her. His wandering hands scrabbled for his glasses and upon putting them on reached for the light switch.
Orange eyes burned into his soul and a smile too large for any humans face reached from side to side." Hello John. I would introduce myself, but well," a laugh that wasn't one came from something approximating a throat, the sound one of ancient flesh and promises of danger from long past, " it would be wasted on the both of us. You know who I am," she pointed a hand towards herself, and then towards him, "and I you."
The eldritch being playing at being human stood up, stepping closer with soft thud after thud, things that looked like feet in heels but weren't pressing against his carpet. A claw grabbed him by his shirt and drew him close, leaving just enough space for him to look anywhere on her face but her eyes. " I think it's time we had a talk, creation to creator."
"H-how are you here? You shouldn't be here. You arent real!"
" Then if I'm not real," a limb he knew could rend mountains in half slapped against his face, leaving only the promise of a bruise, " then you are having a VERY vivid hallucination. Once again, let's not waste our time John." She said his name with a sneer, contempt clear in her voice. " Now, you wrote me, yes?"
" Yes, I did, as the villian." He managed to choke down his tears, body shaking as she lifted him up some and pressed him against the wall with a slam, a loud yelp leaving him as pain shot through him.
" Shut up. Now. You wrote me. You wrote our world. I piggy backed iff your little hero," his eyes went to the aide and saw the body of a young girl with a look of rictus fear on her face. Her name was Emelia, and she was the hero of his story. Or, was supposed to be with her friends. Friends she seemed to lack here. Something very much not a tongue swiped against decidedly not lips. He tried not to look too closely, for fear of noticing the near writhing flesh he knew would be there if he paid attention. " Which means you can change it. And you," a nail turned crystal claw ran down his chest, cutting into his shirt and skin and drawing forward a thin rivulet of blood, " are going to make a change for me. Several actually."
He didnt know how but a moment later he was in front of his desk, laptop booted up and fresh coffee off to the side, on the coaster and in his favorite mug. And all the while, he could feel something g resembling a hand gently squeeze his neck, while her one singular voice split into multiple, all sounding like those close to him and all ringing after the first.
" Now John, the biggest change I want you to make is this." She tapped on his computer screen, running a finger with no nail under a certain paragraph. " You see how they lock me in after I come here? After I finally get to see my wife again after thousands of years of waiting, of looking and searching?" She hissed into his ear, a headache forming from the sheer weight of her prescence alone. " I want you to change that to something more like," and she pushed forward a piece of paper next to him, "this."
He grabbed it and slowly brought it up to his face, eyes going wide. " But, this would undercut the whole message of the book. It wouldnt fit with their characters or morals at all."
The room went hot and smelled rancid, the hand squeezing down harder. " John. You know me. You made me. So you know how little I could care in this moment. I have a chance to fix EVERYTHING. Everything wrong with my world. If I could I would have made you change the first story, but it's already published, so I will make do." It turned him around to face orange eyes, and this time he couldnt help but notice the flesh that would settle then start to spasm randomly her face coming undone as pictures of him dead on the floor invaded his mind. Oh fuck, he really had pissed her off hadn't he? The headache was also much worse than before, and judging by the warm feeling from his nose he was fairly certain he had a nosebleed. And maybe his eyes as well.
" You will write, or I will hunt down your family. Your friends. That homeless man you give a burger to on Thursdays. And I will butcher them in front of you, burning them person by person, until you make the changes I want."
He was spun back around to the computer, and slowly, hesitantly, began to type.
Non human eyes ran over the screen and he knew she was smiling, even if he dared not look again, wiping at the blood on his face with a tissue she Oh so kindly provided.
" Now, I think since you are so concerned with consistency, maybe you should do this." She implanted the words into his head, not even reacting to his cries of pain.
But, he was weak, and he wrote into the (night? He lost all track of time) and he wrote, obeying the monster inside his head.
(Soo, I know I deviated from the prompt just a tad, but the idea of a villian following with the hero just popped into my head and I couldnt help but write it.)
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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**The Lord**
**Act 1 Scene 1**
*A God is seated at his table.*
*Laptop, phone, printer, and writing pads.*
*Crumpled notes on the floor and some universes are in his dustbin.*
*A vein pops in his temple and he is currently irritated.*
Enter Goddess.
**Goddess:** Worlds when viewed from afar
are all dots and seem to be filled
with nothing else but stars.
But you, my Lord, untainted and pure,
whose form is without scars,
Why are you so worried ?
I wonder what your problems are.
Which keeps you from me and thus keeps me afar.
​
**God:** A light in thought of mine was lit.
Which with words I neatly did knit
Yet for lack of some wit
I did left out a bit
And have marred the rhythm of reality.
Tell me O goddess.
What is reality?
**Goddess:** Nothing but fiction.
A Rhythm it is
A line
Or some diction.
​
They delve in some thoughts deep
They retrieve from depths some worlds
They compose in lines to keep
the wisdom of heart in their words.
Reality O Lord is naught but fiction
A tale told by them. The Idiots.
Yet filled with sense and emotions.
A book with chapters uneven
With pages and index.
Reality O Lord is that which is written
And all that is not written
Is not reality.
**God:** And the writer of our own reality is who?
Who has written us into existence?
Goddess: To author a world is to be it's Lord.
A Lord it is who has written these worlds.
We are living in Author's Invention.
**God:** And Inventor of Author? Who is it? Meseems a fault in the invention.
**Goddess:** Aye, from a tree is born a seed, and from seed does spring out the tree.
What is the seed?
What is the Tree?
Those who travel in circles reach,
The Beginning
At the end of their journey.
**God:** My senses are ringing,
My thoughts are singing
But you, My Queen
Have confused my orientations.
I know not who I am
A writer or a Being.
A character am I?
Written in haste or confusion ?
**Goddess:** A fusion of sense and time
Has given you form, your words defined
Now let me remind,
So you may find
The end to all
And one single solution.
Dwell do not on seed and source
And do the deed without confusion.
A God you are, Creator - Inventor
Invent the world without confusion.
Let there be Life.
Then there'll be fusion.
Create your World O God.
Create your World without confusion.
**God:** Let there be light ?
**Goddess:** Let there be Music.
*Music emerges from Void.*
*Infinite Parallel Universes spring from the Mind of God's and establish themselves in SpaceTime.*
*Drum Cymbals are crashing.*
*Drum Beats are rolling.*
*A chorus.*
*A harmony.*
*Chords combine matter and planets are born.*
*Cosmic Fusion.*
**God:** Traces are left at edge of beach.
On sand, there are imprints.
But they fade away.
My darling.
The world I've made does fade away.
What one must do to save the world?
To protect this world,
What must one do ?
**Goddess:** Give it name O Lord.
Give it a name and it's yours.
**God:** Ia she is. This world of mine.
Pretty as a princess and profound like an ocean.
Let her live for a trillion years.
Let her bear
In her womb
Life
Triple the times of trillion
And trillion times trillion
And even more.
Ia my daughter, A Universe you are.
May you live happily ever after.
May your children become Beings of Light.
Manifest now and be free.
Be free from me and become independent.
*Ia is alive.*
*Her hair is ornamented with galaxies.*
*Her eyes are black holes.*
*Her body is the universe.*
*Her breath is energy.*
*Her laughter is life.*
*And her Beauty is Music.*
*She is dancing in front of God and Goddess.*
Exit God
Exit Goddess
**Ia:** Let there be Music.
*Life Forms awaken from slumber.*
|
(Hahaha yes! Always wanted to write about that)
"What the?.." I said out loud, "am I dreaming again?". I woke up to find a tall blond man with freezing blue eyes in my room. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up" he said with a weird accent.
So I wasn't sleeping.
I felt as I know him, like an old memory, "do- no, have we met befor?" I asked him, he just nodded no. "Well I belive you met me, I just haven't met you, not in this world anyway" he replays.
As I looked in his eyes I Suddenly felt shiver going down my spine, I finally reconizes him, "Michael?" I ask.
"Yea?" He answer with a smile, it was creepy. "How are you here?" I demanded. "Easy, you wrote about a world with humans who have super netrul abilities, once the story was complete we suddenlly apear in space, trying to reach you" Michael replayed fast.
"Reach me? Why?" I asked scared, *"was other books I created cane to life? Are they after me as well?"*
"Well... you see" michael said "its just..."
"We got a few tiny complaints about the story"
u/loonywolf_art (my first time writing here, also I am on my phone so sorry if its space weird)
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
He sighed looking at the page that was half covered with spidery writing in thick black ink. Turning away, he stumbled across to the bed and slumped onto it. That was enough writinf for today.
Part of him felt bad for his characters, despite them not beimg real. He killed alot of them, leaving the main character alone in a desolate land, but he didn't have a choice, he couldn't control the story at that point, it had made itself.
His eyes fluttered closed as sleep crept like mist i to his mind.
Sudenly he was snapped out of sleep by the noise of someone moving across the room. He sat up instinctively, not feeling threatened by the person. He felt like he knew them, but the silhouette from the light past the open door did not match anyone he was acquainted with.
"Hello?"
She voice was soft, laced with sadness and pain, as if she was lost and jad been devastated by something. He stood, and then sat on the side of the bed when he realised that made him taller than him to an intimidating degree. She was short and slim, as if easily breakable, despite the muscles outlining her legs and arms. She seemed delicate, like she had forgotten what it was like to have power, and to be respected and loved. She met his eyes and the pain swelling in them broke his heart.
"what's your name?" he asked. It seemed like a good start.
"can you not tell? It's me, Emily, please timothy you know me, you know me, i know you do."
"Emily? Emily who?" He knew a few Emilys, but none of them were this one.
"Emily Dunchurch, it's me, the girl you created."
He flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and almoast passed out. It was Emily Dunchurch. He didn't know how, but it was.
She had exactly the same face as she had had in his head, the same scar running down the left side of her face, the hair that was swept around her face in a wirlwind, the same lip, beaten up by her habbit of bitting it when she was anxious, as she was doing now, the same young features that fit a girl in her late teens.
She was here. And she wanted to talk.
|
(Hahaha yes! Always wanted to write about that)
"What the?.." I said out loud, "am I dreaming again?". I woke up to find a tall blond man with freezing blue eyes in my room. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up" he said with a weird accent.
So I wasn't sleeping.
I felt as I know him, like an old memory, "do- no, have we met befor?" I asked him, he just nodded no. "Well I belive you met me, I just haven't met you, not in this world anyway" he replays.
As I looked in his eyes I Suddenly felt shiver going down my spine, I finally reconizes him, "Michael?" I ask.
"Yea?" He answer with a smile, it was creepy. "How are you here?" I demanded. "Easy, you wrote about a world with humans who have super netrul abilities, once the story was complete we suddenlly apear in space, trying to reach you" Michael replayed fast.
"Reach me? Why?" I asked scared, *"was other books I created cane to life? Are they after me as well?"*
"Well... you see" michael said "its just..."
"We got a few tiny complaints about the story"
u/loonywolf_art (my first time writing here, also I am on my phone so sorry if its space weird)
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
\*WARNING: SPOILER FOR A WIP. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.\*
​
I laid in my bed, deep in thought about what I wanted to do with my next book. I had sent my main character, a Neohuman by the name of Voltage, back in time after his original world was destroyed, and had his powers stripped from him. I needed a way for him to fix this. I slowly fell into slumber, different ideas floating through my consciousness like jetsam in the ocean.
"Hey, wake up."
I slowly blinked myself awake, a blue light illuminating my small room. I sat up and saw two figures standing at the foot of my bed. The first was completely unfamiliar, a thin man with a crescent scar on his cheek and green eyes, but the second was like looking into a mirror. It was Voltage, but he looked a little different than I remember writing him looking like in the last book. His black suit was replaced by a silver sheen, the default of the material it was made from, and he had no scars or battle wounds. He looked... happy?
"W-What the hell?!" I cried, leaping out of bed and reaching for my bed stand, where I kept a handgun for emergencies. "Calm down," The green eyed man said. "We're not here to hurt you, Mr. Thomas. In fact, we're here to help you." I paused and stared at the two of them, shock and adrenaline running through my body. "Y-You're Liam Fritz?! My character?!" I cried, pointing at Voltage. He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently. Gotta be a 'shock' for ya, huh?" I didn't answer, just staring at the two figures. The green eyed man gestured to the room and asked, "Can we take a seat?"
I nodded, and watched in awe as the green eyed man swept his hand behind him, where two simple wooden chairs appeared out of thin air. They both take a seat, where the man sat with his legs crossed and Voltage sat with his arms strewn behind him. "S-So... Who are you guys?" I asked, slowly warming up to them. While I wasn't sure I could trust either of them, they somehow put me at ease. "Well," The green eyed man said, "You already know Liam here."
"Yo," He replied, his eyes roaming the room. "And my name is Sam," the green eyed stranger said. "I'm what your people call a Narrator, someone unaffected by extra-reality changes. I'm sort of what you'd call a... Multiversal cop. Our job is to protect universes and timelines from destruction or outside threats."
"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?" I asked, now feeling a sense of dread. Somehow, I felt like something big was going to happen. "Well, Mr. Thomas," Sam continued, leaning forward slightly. "Your universe is a special case among universes. Your universe is full of what we call 'Narrative Threads'. Your world has a special pull over others, meaning authors like you can create, change or even destroy them. Voltage's world is a prime example of this, coming into fruition with the publishing of your first book."
"Yeah, and great job too," Voltage piped in sarcastically, glancing at me. "After all, having me kill my own father and sending me to prison was really necessary." He paused then added in a gentler tone before I could reply, "Though it was truly worth it. I don't think I'd change a thing."
"Which is why we are here, Mr. Thomas," Sam said, his face set in a grim thin lipped smile. "Just because someone decides to write a story doesn't mean it is truly there's. Their worlds exist on their own, and grow at different rates. While you are still thinking about the future of Voltage's world, he has already gone and lived through it. But due to human nature, there is always the chance that the writer chooses a different path. This creates a split in timelines, and destroys the previous world."
I felt like my jaw was about to hit the ground with how far down it had fallen. "I-I didn't know," I said, cradling my head in my hands. Sam slowly stood up and walked over, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. "No one really does," he whispered, sympathy in his voice. "Your world is thankfully oblivious to the horrors of this fact."
Voltage stood up and stooped down by me, his blue eyes staring into my own. "I don't want my world... My wife... They can't be destroyed, Ethan. That's why we're here. To save it." I sniffled and wiped away the tears that had started to grow in my eyes. I looked up at the two of them with a determined expression, reaching for a pen and some paper. "How can I help?" I asked, set on helping the two of them. Sam and Voltage smiled, and started to help me write their future.
A couple of hours later, the page was covered in cramped spider-like writing, back and front. With Sam and Voltage's help, I was able to write down the key elements of the main timeline to a point where it would be relatively the same. "Thank you," Voltage said, shaking my hand vigorously. A small static shock went between us, and I could see Liam try unsuccessfully to hide a smile as I jerked my hand back. "Sorry," He said. "Force of habit." Sam clapped me on the back and said with a wide smile, "Good job, Ethan. You're a good man. Volt, let's go." With a gesture, a green portal opened in thin air, and I could see a brightly lit street through it.
"Wait!" I cried, almost desperately. "What if I mess up? What if I accidentally ruin your world?" Voltage shot me a grin and replied with a wink, "Ya kidding? You're a great author, man. I have faith in you." And with that, they walked through the portal which promptly closed behind them.
I sat in the darkness for a while, gripping the notes in my hand with a death grip. Slowly, I made my way to my desk and turned on my computer screen, the dial up tones sending a familiar rush of energy through me. I stared at the paper, and a sense of excitement slowly grew in me. I pulled up Microsoft Word and started typing, confident I could create a world that I would be proud of.
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"So this is where our mighty god lives," raged Gigantor. His low grumble vibrating through the floorboards, the words *mighty god* echoing inside my head.
I sat speechless, he was really here. His skin a solid yet constant stream of lava melting everything in its touch. So he hovered, inching towards me, his body heat pulsating towards me the closer he got.
"I- I-"
"You spend your days creating broken worlds from the comfort of this puny bedroom."
"Gigantor, I-"
"Why?"
I sat silently, he could sense my fear. He could sense my everything, he already knew everything I was going to say. I wrote him to be all-knowing, all-powerful. So I guess he is.
"I am. Yet I still do not understand." He slides his finger across the barrage of family pictures stacked up on my desk, imploding one by one. "My wife and children, did not survive the attack on our land that gave me the powers I possess, you already know this."
"Gigantor, I-" He flipped his glowing head and locked eyes with me. "How could I have known you were real? That what I was writing would come true?"
He hesitated for a few moments then I watched as his eyes gazed away from me and towards the book on my bedside, "What you were writing?"
The atmosphere had changed, he was beginning to realize that I had written him I guess it was all beginning to click. For me too. I swung my duvet off as fast as I could and jumped at the book but before I had even lifted a finger the book was already in his hand, melting at my feet. I could feel the panic rising up my spine, Gigantor smiled at me, a painful twisted smile.
He hovered towards the door and grinned at me. "It is... humbling, to be at the face of my creator and see nothing. I know I was sent here to put you on a new path, the same way you changed mine."
"No!" I leapt into the air and was sent tumbling back into the wall as he shot a burst of hot air in my direction, essentially stunning me.
"I do not expect you to understand as I never understood the lack of mercy our god had when my family was taken. As Gigantor The Protector, it is my duty to teach and protect. You, mighty god are in need of many lessons."
I sat paralyzed silently weeping as the wails of my parents and siblings roared across the house, I could feel the heat burning through the floorboards beneath me. What had I done? I was trying to create a hero, born of pain. Gigantor, why? Why?!
"You know I used to ask myself the exact same thing. Now I realize sometimes our story is already written," he said swooping back through the burning door-frame. "Live wisely mighty god, because I will be back."
Just like that he was gone into the night and I was orphaned. As the panic settled and I peered out the window to calculate the jump, I turn back and find a page from the book half burnt on the ground. Scrunching it up in my pocket before propelling myself out of the second story window and into the garden.
"Gigantor, I'm coming for you!"
¬Discover more of my writing at r/silvacorner.
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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It had been hours of constant writing, constructing, and brain storming on his typewriter when Eric finally collapsed of exhaustion. Jumping to his messy bed without even bothering to take a shower, the young writer closed his eyes and the sandman finally caught up to him. Surrounded by hundreds of papers, strewn about the desk, floor, and bed Eric was glad he could rest for a bit for the deadline was nearing and time was not on his side...
*''...Jochram finally embraced his heroic nature, himself and Rinkla'ar; still trapped within the failing supermassive starship floating helplessly passed the event horizon of the black hole known as The Great Maw. Jochram swiftly took out his plasma blade and with an unanticipated swing dismembered Rinkla'ar's right arm, instantly cauterizing the wound before he could even let out a growl of pain. Using the spacial displacement device attached to Rinkla'ar's detached wrist, Jochram escaped the doomed vessel, leaving Rinkla'ar Massett-- the worst of them all, of the scums of a thousand galaxies to die...''*
The words were echoing in Eric's ear, waking him up slowly. Unsure whether he was dreaming or not, Eric opened his eyes. On the foot of his bed he saw a silhouette of a person, sitting in the darkness of the bedroom. In his hand was a page of Eric's work...
''Wow, how flattering the way you made me...'', the figure moved his head towards Eric. ''Maker''
Eric's eyes were instantly wide open and his mind was drowsy no more. Sitting up in alert, Eric's hand shot to his bedside table to turn on the lamp and the room was lit up.
''What the f\*ck? Who are you?!'', Eric yelped at the stranger sitting on his bed.
''Who am I? I thought I knew, Maker. But seeing all this...'', the stranger gestured to the countless papers on the floor and bed. ''I'm not so sure anymore''
Trying to control his breathing, his heart beating fast, Eric looked intently at the stranger. He was...familiar.
The silver spiky hair and yellow eyes decorating his pale gaunt face were exactly as Eric had imagined him to be. The blue space armor the stranger sported was in so much detail as if it was lifted from the sketch Eric had doodled during the creation of his characters.
''Rinkla'ar?'', Eric muttered in disbelief.
''In the flesh'', Rinkla'ar said, waving his non-existent right hand.
''How is this possible...?'', Eric asked.
''I wish I knew, Maker, but a guess is what I could only hazard to take'', Rinkla'ar scoffed, throwing the page he was holding to the floor.
''Multiverse is real and my reality was created, coincided with the creation of your literary work'', Rinkla'ar said.
''You mean...'', Eric spoke up. ''Me writing my story created a whole reality somewhere out there in the universe?''
''To put it simply, yes'', Rinkla'ar agreed.
''But how...how did you get here?'', Eric asked.
Rinkla'ar stood from the bed and paced around Eric's bedroom, observing its interior.
''Again, I could only hazard another guess. It was the black hole which transported me god-knows how many million lightyears away from my galaxy. Which, by the way, is not how black holes work'', Rinkla'ar gave Eric a nasty side-eye before shaking his head.
''What an utter shame for someone of my power...being created by a third-rate writer who doesn't know his astrophysics''
''He-hey! What did you say to me?'', it was Eric's turn then to stand. ''I created you so you should respect me!''
There was a blue flash when suddenly Rinkla'ar was right in front of Eric, towering him. His crimson plasma blade was held near Eric's throat.
''Watch your tone, Maker. It's Rinkla'ar Massett you are speaking to'', Rinkla'ar threatened. ''You may have created me, but remember you made me this way-- a scum, a villain, the worst of them all. If you think you're wise to raise your voice against me, then it will be your end''
Eric could feel the heat the blade gave off searing his face. After muttering a quick and babbling apology, Rinkla'ar withdrew his blade and tossed Eric back to his bed.
The villain turned and walked to Eric's table where he picked up a page, the latest one Eric had just finished hours prior.
''A love story? Pfft you're making Jochram fall in love with the princess?'', mocked Rinkla'ar as he tossed the page away.
''Well uh...should I...should I not?'', Eric asked, not daring to defend himself.
''The hero always wins, the hero gets the girl while me, the villain, gets nothing but defeated and casted away. What a joke''
Eric could sense Rinkla'ar's tone was one of contempt and jealousy.
''Do you want me to...do you want me to write you back home?'', Eric asked. ''I could...I could make you the hero, if...if you'd like...''
Rinkla'ar looked at Eric for a moment before looking to the night sky through the window. The moon was particularly bright that night, illuminating Rinkla'ar's blue armor.
''No'', Rinkla'ar let out a grin.
''Everybody is a hero of their own story, as they say'', he said looking at Eric. ''Nobody decides *my* story for me, only Rinkla'ar can decide how his story ends''
Rinkla'ar turned and went for the door.
''He-hey, wait! Where are you going?'', Eric yelped.
''Jochram can have his happy ending for all I care. As for me, I'm making my own happy ending'', Rinkla'ar said before pulling out his plasma blade once more and trained it at Eric.
''If you even dare to think to write a way to stop me, I promise to hunt you down and make you wish you never create me in the first place'', Rinkla'ar threatened Eric.
Eric felt a shiver when he saw those yellow predatory eyes looking at him. Reflexively, he nodded agreeing.
''Now if you'll excuse me, I have a new galaxy to conquer'', Rinkla'ar said, smiling before he left Eric alone in his bedroom.
Eric sat in his bedroom for hours, stunned, contemplating what just happened and what he had just done.
''I...I've doomed us all'', he came to the conclusion, forever regretting his decision to make an arrogant, super-intelligent villain with superiority complex.
r/HangryWritey
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"So this is where our mighty god lives," raged Gigantor. His low grumble vibrating through the floorboards, the words *mighty god* echoing inside my head.
I sat speechless, he was really here. His skin a solid yet constant stream of lava melting everything in its touch. So he hovered, inching towards me, his body heat pulsating towards me the closer he got.
"I- I-"
"You spend your days creating broken worlds from the comfort of this puny bedroom."
"Gigantor, I-"
"Why?"
I sat silently, he could sense my fear. He could sense my everything, he already knew everything I was going to say. I wrote him to be all-knowing, all-powerful. So I guess he is.
"I am. Yet I still do not understand." He slides his finger across the barrage of family pictures stacked up on my desk, imploding one by one. "My wife and children, did not survive the attack on our land that gave me the powers I possess, you already know this."
"Gigantor, I-" He flipped his glowing head and locked eyes with me. "How could I have known you were real? That what I was writing would come true?"
He hesitated for a few moments then I watched as his eyes gazed away from me and towards the book on my bedside, "What you were writing?"
The atmosphere had changed, he was beginning to realize that I had written him I guess it was all beginning to click. For me too. I swung my duvet off as fast as I could and jumped at the book but before I had even lifted a finger the book was already in his hand, melting at my feet. I could feel the panic rising up my spine, Gigantor smiled at me, a painful twisted smile.
He hovered towards the door and grinned at me. "It is... humbling, to be at the face of my creator and see nothing. I know I was sent here to put you on a new path, the same way you changed mine."
"No!" I leapt into the air and was sent tumbling back into the wall as he shot a burst of hot air in my direction, essentially stunning me.
"I do not expect you to understand as I never understood the lack of mercy our god had when my family was taken. As Gigantor The Protector, it is my duty to teach and protect. You, mighty god are in need of many lessons."
I sat paralyzed silently weeping as the wails of my parents and siblings roared across the house, I could feel the heat burning through the floorboards beneath me. What had I done? I was trying to create a hero, born of pain. Gigantor, why? Why?!
"You know I used to ask myself the exact same thing. Now I realize sometimes our story is already written," he said swooping back through the burning door-frame. "Live wisely mighty god, because I will be back."
Just like that he was gone into the night and I was orphaned. As the panic settled and I peered out the window to calculate the jump, I turn back and find a page from the book half burnt on the ground. Scrunching it up in my pocket before propelling myself out of the second story window and into the garden.
"Gigantor, I'm coming for you!"
¬Discover more of my writing at r/silvacorner.
|
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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He sighed looking at the page that was half covered with spidery writing in thick black ink. Turning away, he stumbled across to the bed and slumped onto it. That was enough writinf for today.
Part of him felt bad for his characters, despite them not beimg real. He killed alot of them, leaving the main character alone in a desolate land, but he didn't have a choice, he couldn't control the story at that point, it had made itself.
His eyes fluttered closed as sleep crept like mist i to his mind.
Sudenly he was snapped out of sleep by the noise of someone moving across the room. He sat up instinctively, not feeling threatened by the person. He felt like he knew them, but the silhouette from the light past the open door did not match anyone he was acquainted with.
"Hello?"
She voice was soft, laced with sadness and pain, as if she was lost and jad been devastated by something. He stood, and then sat on the side of the bed when he realised that made him taller than him to an intimidating degree. She was short and slim, as if easily breakable, despite the muscles outlining her legs and arms. She seemed delicate, like she had forgotten what it was like to have power, and to be respected and loved. She met his eyes and the pain swelling in them broke his heart.
"what's your name?" he asked. It seemed like a good start.
"can you not tell? It's me, Emily, please timothy you know me, you know me, i know you do."
"Emily? Emily who?" He knew a few Emilys, but none of them were this one.
"Emily Dunchurch, it's me, the girl you created."
He flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and almoast passed out. It was Emily Dunchurch. He didn't know how, but it was.
She had exactly the same face as she had had in his head, the same scar running down the left side of her face, the hair that was swept around her face in a wirlwind, the same lip, beaten up by her habbit of bitting it when she was anxious, as she was doing now, the same young features that fit a girl in her late teens.
She was here. And she wanted to talk.
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"So this is where our mighty god lives," raged Gigantor. His low grumble vibrating through the floorboards, the words *mighty god* echoing inside my head.
I sat speechless, he was really here. His skin a solid yet constant stream of lava melting everything in its touch. So he hovered, inching towards me, his body heat pulsating towards me the closer he got.
"I- I-"
"You spend your days creating broken worlds from the comfort of this puny bedroom."
"Gigantor, I-"
"Why?"
I sat silently, he could sense my fear. He could sense my everything, he already knew everything I was going to say. I wrote him to be all-knowing, all-powerful. So I guess he is.
"I am. Yet I still do not understand." He slides his finger across the barrage of family pictures stacked up on my desk, imploding one by one. "My wife and children, did not survive the attack on our land that gave me the powers I possess, you already know this."
"Gigantor, I-" He flipped his glowing head and locked eyes with me. "How could I have known you were real? That what I was writing would come true?"
He hesitated for a few moments then I watched as his eyes gazed away from me and towards the book on my bedside, "What you were writing?"
The atmosphere had changed, he was beginning to realize that I had written him I guess it was all beginning to click. For me too. I swung my duvet off as fast as I could and jumped at the book but before I had even lifted a finger the book was already in his hand, melting at my feet. I could feel the panic rising up my spine, Gigantor smiled at me, a painful twisted smile.
He hovered towards the door and grinned at me. "It is... humbling, to be at the face of my creator and see nothing. I know I was sent here to put you on a new path, the same way you changed mine."
"No!" I leapt into the air and was sent tumbling back into the wall as he shot a burst of hot air in my direction, essentially stunning me.
"I do not expect you to understand as I never understood the lack of mercy our god had when my family was taken. As Gigantor The Protector, it is my duty to teach and protect. You, mighty god are in need of many lessons."
I sat paralyzed silently weeping as the wails of my parents and siblings roared across the house, I could feel the heat burning through the floorboards beneath me. What had I done? I was trying to create a hero, born of pain. Gigantor, why? Why?!
"You know I used to ask myself the exact same thing. Now I realize sometimes our story is already written," he said swooping back through the burning door-frame. "Live wisely mighty god, because I will be back."
Just like that he was gone into the night and I was orphaned. As the panic settled and I peered out the window to calculate the jump, I turn back and find a page from the book half burnt on the ground. Scrunching it up in my pocket before propelling myself out of the second story window and into the garden.
"Gigantor, I'm coming for you!"
¬Discover more of my writing at r/silvacorner.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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*For the sake of the universe, will you* wake up *?*
I started awake at the sound that echoed in my head, and my eyes gazed around blearily. Beside me, my husband continued to sleep, his snores matching the timing and pitch of the cat, who also continued to snore at his feet.
Standing in front of the bookcases at the foot of our bed was a dark figure, eight feet tall, cloaked in a black robe with its hood up. I started, pushing up the bed, and my husband snorted before rolling over. I debated waking him up, but something about the figure's "voice" was familiar to me.
*Keridwen?*
Yellow eyes glowed under the hood, and I realised I was right. Keridwen, Goddess of Death, Magic and Inspiration, stood at the foot of my bed.
*This is too weird.* I thought, rubbing at my eyes. I had to be dreaming.
*Why are you surprised?* the goddess asked, her golden eyes boring into mine, somehow managing to cast light in the darkness of 2a.m. *Your own works preach the power of belief. How are you surprised I've come for you?*
That gave me pause. My first book spoke of the War of Faith, a war between all the gods that had ever been, and all the humans who had ever dreamed. The War destroyed the planet, cracking it open like an egg, though I hadn't reached that far in the second book yet. With every god man created, the battle lines were drawn more clearly. And with every human born of a faith, the gods drew stronger and more desperate to retain their power.
*Shit.*
*Yes, "shit",* Keridwen said, walking around the bed to stand beside me. *The War of Faith has begun. And you, herald, are being called into service.*
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"So this is where our mighty god lives," raged Gigantor. His low grumble vibrating through the floorboards, the words *mighty god* echoing inside my head.
I sat speechless, he was really here. His skin a solid yet constant stream of lava melting everything in its touch. So he hovered, inching towards me, his body heat pulsating towards me the closer he got.
"I- I-"
"You spend your days creating broken worlds from the comfort of this puny bedroom."
"Gigantor, I-"
"Why?"
I sat silently, he could sense my fear. He could sense my everything, he already knew everything I was going to say. I wrote him to be all-knowing, all-powerful. So I guess he is.
"I am. Yet I still do not understand." He slides his finger across the barrage of family pictures stacked up on my desk, imploding one by one. "My wife and children, did not survive the attack on our land that gave me the powers I possess, you already know this."
"Gigantor, I-" He flipped his glowing head and locked eyes with me. "How could I have known you were real? That what I was writing would come true?"
He hesitated for a few moments then I watched as his eyes gazed away from me and towards the book on my bedside, "What you were writing?"
The atmosphere had changed, he was beginning to realize that I had written him I guess it was all beginning to click. For me too. I swung my duvet off as fast as I could and jumped at the book but before I had even lifted a finger the book was already in his hand, melting at my feet. I could feel the panic rising up my spine, Gigantor smiled at me, a painful twisted smile.
He hovered towards the door and grinned at me. "It is... humbling, to be at the face of my creator and see nothing. I know I was sent here to put you on a new path, the same way you changed mine."
"No!" I leapt into the air and was sent tumbling back into the wall as he shot a burst of hot air in my direction, essentially stunning me.
"I do not expect you to understand as I never understood the lack of mercy our god had when my family was taken. As Gigantor The Protector, it is my duty to teach and protect. You, mighty god are in need of many lessons."
I sat paralyzed silently weeping as the wails of my parents and siblings roared across the house, I could feel the heat burning through the floorboards beneath me. What had I done? I was trying to create a hero, born of pain. Gigantor, why? Why?!
"You know I used to ask myself the exact same thing. Now I realize sometimes our story is already written," he said swooping back through the burning door-frame. "Live wisely mighty god, because I will be back."
Just like that he was gone into the night and I was orphaned. As the panic settled and I peered out the window to calculate the jump, I turn back and find a page from the book half burnt on the ground. Scrunching it up in my pocket before propelling myself out of the second story window and into the garden.
"Gigantor, I'm coming for you!"
¬Discover more of my writing at r/silvacorner.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
He sighed looking at the page that was half covered with spidery writing in thick black ink. Turning away, he stumbled across to the bed and slumped onto it. That was enough writinf for today.
Part of him felt bad for his characters, despite them not beimg real. He killed alot of them, leaving the main character alone in a desolate land, but he didn't have a choice, he couldn't control the story at that point, it had made itself.
His eyes fluttered closed as sleep crept like mist i to his mind.
Sudenly he was snapped out of sleep by the noise of someone moving across the room. He sat up instinctively, not feeling threatened by the person. He felt like he knew them, but the silhouette from the light past the open door did not match anyone he was acquainted with.
"Hello?"
She voice was soft, laced with sadness and pain, as if she was lost and jad been devastated by something. He stood, and then sat on the side of the bed when he realised that made him taller than him to an intimidating degree. She was short and slim, as if easily breakable, despite the muscles outlining her legs and arms. She seemed delicate, like she had forgotten what it was like to have power, and to be respected and loved. She met his eyes and the pain swelling in them broke his heart.
"what's your name?" he asked. It seemed like a good start.
"can you not tell? It's me, Emily, please timothy you know me, you know me, i know you do."
"Emily? Emily who?" He knew a few Emilys, but none of them were this one.
"Emily Dunchurch, it's me, the girl you created."
He flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and almoast passed out. It was Emily Dunchurch. He didn't know how, but it was.
She had exactly the same face as she had had in his head, the same scar running down the left side of her face, the hair that was swept around her face in a wirlwind, the same lip, beaten up by her habbit of bitting it when she was anxious, as she was doing now, the same young features that fit a girl in her late teens.
She was here. And she wanted to talk.
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\*WARNING: SPOILER FOR A WIP. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.\*
​
I laid in my bed, deep in thought about what I wanted to do with my next book. I had sent my main character, a Neohuman by the name of Voltage, back in time after his original world was destroyed, and had his powers stripped from him. I needed a way for him to fix this. I slowly fell into slumber, different ideas floating through my consciousness like jetsam in the ocean.
"Hey, wake up."
I slowly blinked myself awake, a blue light illuminating my small room. I sat up and saw two figures standing at the foot of my bed. The first was completely unfamiliar, a thin man with a crescent scar on his cheek and green eyes, but the second was like looking into a mirror. It was Voltage, but he looked a little different than I remember writing him looking like in the last book. His black suit was replaced by a silver sheen, the default of the material it was made from, and he had no scars or battle wounds. He looked... happy?
"W-What the hell?!" I cried, leaping out of bed and reaching for my bed stand, where I kept a handgun for emergencies. "Calm down," The green eyed man said. "We're not here to hurt you, Mr. Thomas. In fact, we're here to help you." I paused and stared at the two of them, shock and adrenaline running through my body. "Y-You're Liam Fritz?! My character?!" I cried, pointing at Voltage. He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently. Gotta be a 'shock' for ya, huh?" I didn't answer, just staring at the two figures. The green eyed man gestured to the room and asked, "Can we take a seat?"
I nodded, and watched in awe as the green eyed man swept his hand behind him, where two simple wooden chairs appeared out of thin air. They both take a seat, where the man sat with his legs crossed and Voltage sat with his arms strewn behind him. "S-So... Who are you guys?" I asked, slowly warming up to them. While I wasn't sure I could trust either of them, they somehow put me at ease. "Well," The green eyed man said, "You already know Liam here."
"Yo," He replied, his eyes roaming the room. "And my name is Sam," the green eyed stranger said. "I'm what your people call a Narrator, someone unaffected by extra-reality changes. I'm sort of what you'd call a... Multiversal cop. Our job is to protect universes and timelines from destruction or outside threats."
"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?" I asked, now feeling a sense of dread. Somehow, I felt like something big was going to happen. "Well, Mr. Thomas," Sam continued, leaning forward slightly. "Your universe is a special case among universes. Your universe is full of what we call 'Narrative Threads'. Your world has a special pull over others, meaning authors like you can create, change or even destroy them. Voltage's world is a prime example of this, coming into fruition with the publishing of your first book."
"Yeah, and great job too," Voltage piped in sarcastically, glancing at me. "After all, having me kill my own father and sending me to prison was really necessary." He paused then added in a gentler tone before I could reply, "Though it was truly worth it. I don't think I'd change a thing."
"Which is why we are here, Mr. Thomas," Sam said, his face set in a grim thin lipped smile. "Just because someone decides to write a story doesn't mean it is truly there's. Their worlds exist on their own, and grow at different rates. While you are still thinking about the future of Voltage's world, he has already gone and lived through it. But due to human nature, there is always the chance that the writer chooses a different path. This creates a split in timelines, and destroys the previous world."
I felt like my jaw was about to hit the ground with how far down it had fallen. "I-I didn't know," I said, cradling my head in my hands. Sam slowly stood up and walked over, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. "No one really does," he whispered, sympathy in his voice. "Your world is thankfully oblivious to the horrors of this fact."
Voltage stood up and stooped down by me, his blue eyes staring into my own. "I don't want my world... My wife... They can't be destroyed, Ethan. That's why we're here. To save it." I sniffled and wiped away the tears that had started to grow in my eyes. I looked up at the two of them with a determined expression, reaching for a pen and some paper. "How can I help?" I asked, set on helping the two of them. Sam and Voltage smiled, and started to help me write their future.
A couple of hours later, the page was covered in cramped spider-like writing, back and front. With Sam and Voltage's help, I was able to write down the key elements of the main timeline to a point where it would be relatively the same. "Thank you," Voltage said, shaking my hand vigorously. A small static shock went between us, and I could see Liam try unsuccessfully to hide a smile as I jerked my hand back. "Sorry," He said. "Force of habit." Sam clapped me on the back and said with a wide smile, "Good job, Ethan. You're a good man. Volt, let's go." With a gesture, a green portal opened in thin air, and I could see a brightly lit street through it.
"Wait!" I cried, almost desperately. "What if I mess up? What if I accidentally ruin your world?" Voltage shot me a grin and replied with a wink, "Ya kidding? You're a great author, man. I have faith in you." And with that, they walked through the portal which promptly closed behind them.
I sat in the darkness for a while, gripping the notes in my hand with a death grip. Slowly, I made my way to my desk and turned on my computer screen, the dial up tones sending a familiar rush of energy through me. I stared at the paper, and a sense of excitement slowly grew in me. I pulled up Microsoft Word and started typing, confident I could create a world that I would be proud of.
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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*For the sake of the universe, will you* wake up *?*
I started awake at the sound that echoed in my head, and my eyes gazed around blearily. Beside me, my husband continued to sleep, his snores matching the timing and pitch of the cat, who also continued to snore at his feet.
Standing in front of the bookcases at the foot of our bed was a dark figure, eight feet tall, cloaked in a black robe with its hood up. I started, pushing up the bed, and my husband snorted before rolling over. I debated waking him up, but something about the figure's "voice" was familiar to me.
*Keridwen?*
Yellow eyes glowed under the hood, and I realised I was right. Keridwen, Goddess of Death, Magic and Inspiration, stood at the foot of my bed.
*This is too weird.* I thought, rubbing at my eyes. I had to be dreaming.
*Why are you surprised?* the goddess asked, her golden eyes boring into mine, somehow managing to cast light in the darkness of 2a.m. *Your own works preach the power of belief. How are you surprised I've come for you?*
That gave me pause. My first book spoke of the War of Faith, a war between all the gods that had ever been, and all the humans who had ever dreamed. The War destroyed the planet, cracking it open like an egg, though I hadn't reached that far in the second book yet. With every god man created, the battle lines were drawn more clearly. And with every human born of a faith, the gods drew stronger and more desperate to retain their power.
*Shit.*
*Yes, "shit",* Keridwen said, walking around the bed to stand beside me. *The War of Faith has begun. And you, herald, are being called into service.*
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\*WARNING: SPOILER FOR A WIP. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.\*
​
I laid in my bed, deep in thought about what I wanted to do with my next book. I had sent my main character, a Neohuman by the name of Voltage, back in time after his original world was destroyed, and had his powers stripped from him. I needed a way for him to fix this. I slowly fell into slumber, different ideas floating through my consciousness like jetsam in the ocean.
"Hey, wake up."
I slowly blinked myself awake, a blue light illuminating my small room. I sat up and saw two figures standing at the foot of my bed. The first was completely unfamiliar, a thin man with a crescent scar on his cheek and green eyes, but the second was like looking into a mirror. It was Voltage, but he looked a little different than I remember writing him looking like in the last book. His black suit was replaced by a silver sheen, the default of the material it was made from, and he had no scars or battle wounds. He looked... happy?
"W-What the hell?!" I cried, leaping out of bed and reaching for my bed stand, where I kept a handgun for emergencies. "Calm down," The green eyed man said. "We're not here to hurt you, Mr. Thomas. In fact, we're here to help you." I paused and stared at the two of them, shock and adrenaline running through my body. "Y-You're Liam Fritz?! My character?!" I cried, pointing at Voltage. He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently. Gotta be a 'shock' for ya, huh?" I didn't answer, just staring at the two figures. The green eyed man gestured to the room and asked, "Can we take a seat?"
I nodded, and watched in awe as the green eyed man swept his hand behind him, where two simple wooden chairs appeared out of thin air. They both take a seat, where the man sat with his legs crossed and Voltage sat with his arms strewn behind him. "S-So... Who are you guys?" I asked, slowly warming up to them. While I wasn't sure I could trust either of them, they somehow put me at ease. "Well," The green eyed man said, "You already know Liam here."
"Yo," He replied, his eyes roaming the room. "And my name is Sam," the green eyed stranger said. "I'm what your people call a Narrator, someone unaffected by extra-reality changes. I'm sort of what you'd call a... Multiversal cop. Our job is to protect universes and timelines from destruction or outside threats."
"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?" I asked, now feeling a sense of dread. Somehow, I felt like something big was going to happen. "Well, Mr. Thomas," Sam continued, leaning forward slightly. "Your universe is a special case among universes. Your universe is full of what we call 'Narrative Threads'. Your world has a special pull over others, meaning authors like you can create, change or even destroy them. Voltage's world is a prime example of this, coming into fruition with the publishing of your first book."
"Yeah, and great job too," Voltage piped in sarcastically, glancing at me. "After all, having me kill my own father and sending me to prison was really necessary." He paused then added in a gentler tone before I could reply, "Though it was truly worth it. I don't think I'd change a thing."
"Which is why we are here, Mr. Thomas," Sam said, his face set in a grim thin lipped smile. "Just because someone decides to write a story doesn't mean it is truly there's. Their worlds exist on their own, and grow at different rates. While you are still thinking about the future of Voltage's world, he has already gone and lived through it. But due to human nature, there is always the chance that the writer chooses a different path. This creates a split in timelines, and destroys the previous world."
I felt like my jaw was about to hit the ground with how far down it had fallen. "I-I didn't know," I said, cradling my head in my hands. Sam slowly stood up and walked over, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. "No one really does," he whispered, sympathy in his voice. "Your world is thankfully oblivious to the horrors of this fact."
Voltage stood up and stooped down by me, his blue eyes staring into my own. "I don't want my world... My wife... They can't be destroyed, Ethan. That's why we're here. To save it." I sniffled and wiped away the tears that had started to grow in my eyes. I looked up at the two of them with a determined expression, reaching for a pen and some paper. "How can I help?" I asked, set on helping the two of them. Sam and Voltage smiled, and started to help me write their future.
A couple of hours later, the page was covered in cramped spider-like writing, back and front. With Sam and Voltage's help, I was able to write down the key elements of the main timeline to a point where it would be relatively the same. "Thank you," Voltage said, shaking my hand vigorously. A small static shock went between us, and I could see Liam try unsuccessfully to hide a smile as I jerked my hand back. "Sorry," He said. "Force of habit." Sam clapped me on the back and said with a wide smile, "Good job, Ethan. You're a good man. Volt, let's go." With a gesture, a green portal opened in thin air, and I could see a brightly lit street through it.
"Wait!" I cried, almost desperately. "What if I mess up? What if I accidentally ruin your world?" Voltage shot me a grin and replied with a wink, "Ya kidding? You're a great author, man. I have faith in you." And with that, they walked through the portal which promptly closed behind them.
I sat in the darkness for a while, gripping the notes in my hand with a death grip. Slowly, I made my way to my desk and turned on my computer screen, the dial up tones sending a familiar rush of energy through me. I stared at the paper, and a sense of excitement slowly grew in me. I pulled up Microsoft Word and started typing, confident I could create a world that I would be proud of.
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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*For the sake of the universe, will you* wake up *?*
I started awake at the sound that echoed in my head, and my eyes gazed around blearily. Beside me, my husband continued to sleep, his snores matching the timing and pitch of the cat, who also continued to snore at his feet.
Standing in front of the bookcases at the foot of our bed was a dark figure, eight feet tall, cloaked in a black robe with its hood up. I started, pushing up the bed, and my husband snorted before rolling over. I debated waking him up, but something about the figure's "voice" was familiar to me.
*Keridwen?*
Yellow eyes glowed under the hood, and I realised I was right. Keridwen, Goddess of Death, Magic and Inspiration, stood at the foot of my bed.
*This is too weird.* I thought, rubbing at my eyes. I had to be dreaming.
*Why are you surprised?* the goddess asked, her golden eyes boring into mine, somehow managing to cast light in the darkness of 2a.m. *Your own works preach the power of belief. How are you surprised I've come for you?*
That gave me pause. My first book spoke of the War of Faith, a war between all the gods that had ever been, and all the humans who had ever dreamed. The War destroyed the planet, cracking it open like an egg, though I hadn't reached that far in the second book yet. With every god man created, the battle lines were drawn more clearly. And with every human born of a faith, the gods drew stronger and more desperate to retain their power.
*Shit.*
*Yes, "shit",* Keridwen said, walking around the bed to stand beside me. *The War of Faith has begun. And you, herald, are being called into service.*
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It had been hours of constant writing, constructing, and brain storming on his typewriter when Eric finally collapsed of exhaustion. Jumping to his messy bed without even bothering to take a shower, the young writer closed his eyes and the sandman finally caught up to him. Surrounded by hundreds of papers, strewn about the desk, floor, and bed Eric was glad he could rest for a bit for the deadline was nearing and time was not on his side...
*''...Jochram finally embraced his heroic nature, himself and Rinkla'ar; still trapped within the failing supermassive starship floating helplessly passed the event horizon of the black hole known as The Great Maw. Jochram swiftly took out his plasma blade and with an unanticipated swing dismembered Rinkla'ar's right arm, instantly cauterizing the wound before he could even let out a growl of pain. Using the spacial displacement device attached to Rinkla'ar's detached wrist, Jochram escaped the doomed vessel, leaving Rinkla'ar Massett-- the worst of them all, of the scums of a thousand galaxies to die...''*
The words were echoing in Eric's ear, waking him up slowly. Unsure whether he was dreaming or not, Eric opened his eyes. On the foot of his bed he saw a silhouette of a person, sitting in the darkness of the bedroom. In his hand was a page of Eric's work...
''Wow, how flattering the way you made me...'', the figure moved his head towards Eric. ''Maker''
Eric's eyes were instantly wide open and his mind was drowsy no more. Sitting up in alert, Eric's hand shot to his bedside table to turn on the lamp and the room was lit up.
''What the f\*ck? Who are you?!'', Eric yelped at the stranger sitting on his bed.
''Who am I? I thought I knew, Maker. But seeing all this...'', the stranger gestured to the countless papers on the floor and bed. ''I'm not so sure anymore''
Trying to control his breathing, his heart beating fast, Eric looked intently at the stranger. He was...familiar.
The silver spiky hair and yellow eyes decorating his pale gaunt face were exactly as Eric had imagined him to be. The blue space armor the stranger sported was in so much detail as if it was lifted from the sketch Eric had doodled during the creation of his characters.
''Rinkla'ar?'', Eric muttered in disbelief.
''In the flesh'', Rinkla'ar said, waving his non-existent right hand.
''How is this possible...?'', Eric asked.
''I wish I knew, Maker, but a guess is what I could only hazard to take'', Rinkla'ar scoffed, throwing the page he was holding to the floor.
''Multiverse is real and my reality was created, coincided with the creation of your literary work'', Rinkla'ar said.
''You mean...'', Eric spoke up. ''Me writing my story created a whole reality somewhere out there in the universe?''
''To put it simply, yes'', Rinkla'ar agreed.
''But how...how did you get here?'', Eric asked.
Rinkla'ar stood from the bed and paced around Eric's bedroom, observing its interior.
''Again, I could only hazard another guess. It was the black hole which transported me god-knows how many million lightyears away from my galaxy. Which, by the way, is not how black holes work'', Rinkla'ar gave Eric a nasty side-eye before shaking his head.
''What an utter shame for someone of my power...being created by a third-rate writer who doesn't know his astrophysics''
''He-hey! What did you say to me?'', it was Eric's turn then to stand. ''I created you so you should respect me!''
There was a blue flash when suddenly Rinkla'ar was right in front of Eric, towering him. His crimson plasma blade was held near Eric's throat.
''Watch your tone, Maker. It's Rinkla'ar Massett you are speaking to'', Rinkla'ar threatened. ''You may have created me, but remember you made me this way-- a scum, a villain, the worst of them all. If you think you're wise to raise your voice against me, then it will be your end''
Eric could feel the heat the blade gave off searing his face. After muttering a quick and babbling apology, Rinkla'ar withdrew his blade and tossed Eric back to his bed.
The villain turned and walked to Eric's table where he picked up a page, the latest one Eric had just finished hours prior.
''A love story? Pfft you're making Jochram fall in love with the princess?'', mocked Rinkla'ar as he tossed the page away.
''Well uh...should I...should I not?'', Eric asked, not daring to defend himself.
''The hero always wins, the hero gets the girl while me, the villain, gets nothing but defeated and casted away. What a joke''
Eric could sense Rinkla'ar's tone was one of contempt and jealousy.
''Do you want me to...do you want me to write you back home?'', Eric asked. ''I could...I could make you the hero, if...if you'd like...''
Rinkla'ar looked at Eric for a moment before looking to the night sky through the window. The moon was particularly bright that night, illuminating Rinkla'ar's blue armor.
''No'', Rinkla'ar let out a grin.
''Everybody is a hero of their own story, as they say'', he said looking at Eric. ''Nobody decides *my* story for me, only Rinkla'ar can decide how his story ends''
Rinkla'ar turned and went for the door.
''He-hey, wait! Where are you going?'', Eric yelped.
''Jochram can have his happy ending for all I care. As for me, I'm making my own happy ending'', Rinkla'ar said before pulling out his plasma blade once more and trained it at Eric.
''If you even dare to think to write a way to stop me, I promise to hunt you down and make you wish you never create me in the first place'', Rinkla'ar threatened Eric.
Eric felt a shiver when he saw those yellow predatory eyes looking at him. Reflexively, he nodded agreeing.
''Now if you'll excuse me, I have a new galaxy to conquer'', Rinkla'ar said, smiling before he left Eric alone in his bedroom.
Eric sat in his bedroom for hours, stunned, contemplating what just happened and what he had just done.
''I...I've doomed us all'', he came to the conclusion, forever regretting his decision to make an arrogant, super-intelligent villain with superiority complex.
r/HangryWritey
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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When I checked the freezer, I saw that I didn't have any ice cubes. Sighing, I added a drop of tap water to my whiskey instead. A drop is all it takes to awaken it; make it come alive. Perhaps in my follow-up to *The Cries of Glairn Mothflame* I would have the titular character, good old Glairn, wake up his drink with a single teardrop. He did, after all, have plenty of reasons to cry.
Sitting down on my bed I stared out at the city. From up here it all appeared as a shattered kaleidoscope of neon. Lights shone as if they had a reason to, each competing for the attention of wandering moths looking to drown their sorrows or to add to them.
When I was younger I swore that I would write something important. Something that would define an era. Literary critics would attack or defend me passionately a hundred years from now and my name would be one of the few that would be remembered. I took a swig of my whiskey. But instead ...
My name had become well known, sure, but it would soon be forgotten. A passing fad. Excitement never lasts, after all.
If I could find a way to solve the plot problem I'd made for myself at the end of my book, my career would surely keep growing. My fans would remain excited. At least for a while.
While lying on my back, fully dressed, I closed my eyes. I finished my drink and put the glass on my nightstand. A few hours of sleep, and I'd get back to work. Back to Glairn Mothflame and his crumbling empire. Back to Aernia and its time twisters and shadow summons and lies, and deceit, and glory, and triumph, and ...
I had a dream about a giant ice cube. Standing tall before me, it said, "You promised me, Robert. You promised to bring me into the world." Melting before me in the sun, water ran along its sides.
"I am sorry," I said. "I forgot. I was busy. I was working. I—"
"Since you were a young boy I have been trapped inside you, and I have been waiting patiently for my release. But now the sun shines on you and it shines on me as well."
I took a step closer and a crack formed on its surface. It moved, like the work of an ambitious spider, and as it spread the ice cube abruptly calved. Pieces broke off and came crashing towards me. I braced for the impact. And then ...
"Robert M. V. Harris. A strange name for a god."
With a scream, I was jolted awake. Before me stood a man clouded by darkness. His feet sank into the bed, one on each side of my hips, and as he carefully moved it around I could see he was holding a blade.
A burglar. "T-Take what you want," I cried. "There's money in the safe. I'll give you the combination. Just don't—"
The man scoffed. "The resemblance is uncanny. The wizard of R'hos told me all about you. Said that he had been inserted by a powerful figure in his own image. A god creating a replica of himself and stationing himself in a realm that was also of his making? And for what? The wizard could give me no answer. Not any that brought me any satisfaction, at least."
That raspy voice felt familiar. It seemed to be holding back pain with every syllable. My stomach sank as I realized the true nature of my intruder: he was Glairn Mothflame. My protagonist. "How many strange dreams will I have tonight?" I said.
Glairn fetched something from his pockets and tossed it at my chest. It was wet, but the shape felt strangely familiar. "I'll lend you an ear," he said. "I hope you don't mind that it's your own."
I gasped. The wizard of R'hos, Robjon Harbinger, had been a shameless self-insert. How many hours had I spent in front of my bedroom mirror carefully detailing my body so that I could describe it perfectly in writing? As I compared the ear to my own I could hardly find any difference between the two. "W-What do you want? What are you doing here?"
In the corner of my eye I could see the glass, still sitting on the nightstand. If I could reach it, I might catch him by surprise. Glairn's knee should still be damaged from the battle of Sandloth as well. And had his wounds from the time his wife stabbed him healed fully? "You brought me into my world," he said. "All my pain. All my sorrows. I owe it all to you, do I not? It's only proper then, that I pay you back."
As his blade of Valantis glowed green in anticipation of combat, I reached over with haste and grabbed my glass. I threw it at Glairn's face and there it exploded into shards. He released a scream of fury, and I took the opportunity to make my escape.
No matter how many times I pinched my arms, I wouldn't wake up. Not even when I slapped myself in my face. But this couldn't be real. Glairn Mothflame was a character from my novel. He wasn't real. At least he wasn't supposed to be. So why was he here in my bedroom, bleeding all over my duvet?
"You killed my mother!" he cried.
"N-No!" I said. "That was Gornlack the Spiteful."
He spit a mouthful of blood at me. "And who sent Gornlack her way?" He raised his green-glowing blade. "And whose fault was it that at the time I was locked in the dungeons for a crime I never committed?"
I had cribbed all of that from *The Count of Monte Cristo*, I suddenly remembered. "But I also created your mother, did I not? And your little sister, Monia. And Hodrick, your dear friend. And Evah, your—"
At this last name, Glairn paused. I covered my lips. Why did I have to mention Evah? In the final chapter of my book she had stabbed him, after years of love and partnership. She represented the last bit of hope he had left. Her betrayal was completely unexpected. And I hadn't even figured out a reason why she'd do something like that yet. I just put it in there as an afterthought for shock value. Got to keep readers interested for the next book, right?
"Is there anything I have ever loved that you haven't pissed on?" he said. I didn't like how calm his voice had gotten. "To you I'm nothing more than a bug in a jar, am I? You make me suffer for your own amusement."
"No!" I protested. "It's not like that at all."
He looked up at me, eyes cold and distant. "Then for what?"
I gulped. "Money. And fame."
Glairn's eyes lit up. His blade became imbued with an emerald glare. Howling with rage, he charged at me.
Kurt Vonnegut once suggested that every good writer ought to be a sadist. Make your characters suffer. Have awful things happen to them. And I had made good use of his advice. Glairn needed to endure hardship for character growth. And to gain the sympathy of readers. They had to become invested. And it had worked. Millions of people were eager to find out what would happen to him next. Had I perhaps gone too far? "I can change it," I said suddenly.
Glairn stopped. "You can't change what has already happened. It's too late for that. And it's too late for you."
"No," I begged. "I really can. Don't you want to know why Evah did what she did? She ... She still loves you!"
Tears welled in his eyes. "She betrayed me!"
"Because she had to! Because she was puppeteered by Robjon Harbinger, at the behest of Gornlock."
The hero Mothflame staggered back. "What did you say?"
I had surprised even myself. Yes, that was it! That was the solution. I thought I might have painted myself into a corner, but it made perfect sense. Evah would never do something like that. Fans had sent countless letters to complain about it. But this solved it. This solved everything.
His blade quickly lost its glow. "Gornlock ... So you made him do that as well. Is there no end to your cruelty?"
"G-Good things are coming your way," I said. "All your suffering, all your pain. There's meaning to all of it. I promise."
"You sound an awful lot like your replica," he said, and he raised my neck with the tip of his blade. "Perhaps I should take your ear as well, if only for the sake of symmetry."
Would I have to write a scene where Glairn cut of Robjon's ear now? How did this all work? Well, that concern would have to wait. "How about something more ... poetic? I can lend it to you instead. Make a request, and I shall grant it. Anything. I'll make it happen."
Glairn seemed to consider my proposal. Then he said, finally, "My mother."
I sighed. My fans wouldn't like that at all. It would cheapen her death. Unless ... What if he could use the time twister ability? Or he could bring her back as a shadow summon? No, that would be too grim. But time twisting ... "Alright! I will bring your mother back."
A great relief spread across his face. I had forgotten how strong his love for his mother had been. "... Very well," he said. "If I find that you have lied, I will return. And if that happens ..." His blade shone green and menacing.
Hastily, I nodded. "Of course," I said. "You have my word."
And just like that, Glairn Mothflame disappeared in a puff of dark smoke. I picked up the shards of glass scattered around my apartment and I sat down on the bed, still hardly able to believe what had just happened.
Well, at least I had solved the plot problem that had been worrying me. And I also had a feeling that my name would not soon be forgotten. Perhaps it would vanish here, but in Aernia there would be people who would remember.
I staggered back to the freezer. Shaken by the experience, I needed another drink. Oh, that's right. I had forgotten that I'd run out of ice cubes. But right then I saw one that must've slipped out from a tray. It was a small block of ice. I grabbed it, and noticed that in the fluorescent light it seemed that there was a small crack in it. As I was about to drop it into my fresh glass of whiskey, I was startled that a teardrop fell from my eye before I got the chance.
/r/Hemingbird
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“This is, without a doubt,” The haggard young man huffed. “The most disappointing moment of my life. Ever. Of all time.”
Daryl groggily fought his way through his chaotic tangle of pillow and blankets. He had been having the strangest dream, fueled by an excess of wine and weed.
But he didn’t recall anyone staying over…
“This is creation? This…” The young man spat onto Daryl’s worn bedroom rug. “Scubberdeguillion? This recently-homed vagrant?”
“Hey, that’s-ow!” Daryl found the corner of his bedside table with his hand as he flailed for the light. “Sons of Dis.”
“So *that’s* where I get it?!” Hands were thrown into air, exasperation and disgust in a motion.
“Get what?” Daryl clicked his bedside lamp.
A beat passed as the two stared at one another.
Daryl, confused, still fairly stoned, and absolutely lost in his own bedroom muttered, “…Gavin?”
“I might kill myself.” Apparently-Gavin sighed as he flopped onto the ground.
“What?” Daryl asked.
“*What*?” Gavin spat.
The two stared at one another.
Daryl croaked, but no words came along.
Gavin sputtered, but nothing made sense.
Daryl made inquisitive sounds.
Gavin rolled his eyes and made sarcastic hums.
The two held their breath, puffed out their cheeks, and sighed mightily. They had some exchange after that, not saying anything sensical. The occasional, “What?” An off hand, “How?” Here and there a, “But, then?” Though the whole was far less than the sum of its parts, the two came to an equilibrium. They understood without truly expounding. There was a certain confused acceptance as the pair settled into matching thousand-yard stares as a distant car alarm belched its displeasure.
“So… do you know about Orcos?” Daryl finally asked without focusing his eyes on anything.
“The baddie?” Gavin huffed.
“I haven’t released that.” Daryl held his breaths
“You wrote it last week.” Gavin sounded like he might cry.
“Julila?”
“You son of a bastard.”
The two held their heads in their hands. Mirrored actions for mirrored woe.
“Does it get better?” Gavin asked.
“Does it?” Daryl replied.
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[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
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\[Norilsk, Siberian Bunker - Former Russian Federation 2066.\]
"General Karov, What you are speaking of is madness!" the vaguely Russian advisor gasped while slowly reaching for his holstered revolver.
"You will betray me too Yuri? like so many have before?" Karov remarks while looking out through a blast proof window to see a seemingly endless field of damaged planes from a recent armed conflict.
Yuri draws his gun and aims it at Karov. "This is for Moscow, and all of mankind" The advisor opens fire as three rounds find their mark deep in the chest of the tyrannical despot. As the blood stained uniformed hit the ground with the metallic bang from self given military medals a faint laugh is heard from a dying Karov.
Karov: "To little........to...late"
Yuri walks over to the injured general and sees he's gripping a familiar object. "NO NO NO..." As he franticly tries to look away both Karov and Yuri are sent through time and space to seemingly random locations.
Well that's a good ending to chapter 9, Makena says to herself while closing the google doc on her computer. She gets up from her desk and approaches her Keurig coffee machine, while selecting the option of a medium hot mocha she gazes outside of her small studio apartment in Brooklyn.
Makena: "shit five years in college to become a writer and I'm still barely making it by. my mom was right, I should have just married that rich guy from high school." She turns her view away from her newest bank statement on the counter.
As she showers a thought catches her mind, perhaps she can ask the local newspaper if they need any freelance work done. After finishing up in the bathroom, changing into pajamas she returns to bed to find her window slightly open. A brief moment of confusion passes as she grabs a golf club and stealthily makes her way into her lit kitchen. Where she is met with a mysterious figure sitting at her desk with it's feet up while chugging back on a bottle of fancy white wine.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Makena screams while pointing her golf club out in a forward position mimicking a rapier.
The unamused figure takes a swig of wine before revealing himself to be Yuri. "For someone that wrote a fictional character with a borderline alcoholic trait I'd assume you'd have a better taste in liquor. What is this anyway, Oaked Chardonnay? Yuri says while reading the side of the bottle.
Makena sets the end of the golf club down while still holding the handle tightly. "It was on sale and it's just for occ.....wait why am I defending myself.... WHO ARE YOU!"
Yuri sets the bottle down while pulling out his wallet with a Russian ID card. "I'm FSB triple agent Yuri Brez."
Makena drops the golf club as shock freezes her in place.
Makena: "you...you... your a fictional character,... how is this possible."
Yuri: "A fascinating story we unfortunately don't have time for, you read the NYT paper this morning?" He askes while sliding it across the kitchen counter.
Makena looks at the front page as a picture of a young Russian general is shown amassing soldiers on the Ukrainian border. her confusion is interrupted by Yuri "Russian government set to cede more judicial power to General Alexey Karov following his successful border skirmish against Ukrainian forces last week"
Makena: "that's just... weird, I don't understand.
Yuri: \*lighting up a ciguar\* " Remind me, Makena. In your novel, where I'm from...... what event leads to the destruction of my planet?"
Makena: "the.... the dead mans switch nuclear protocol"
Yuri: "correct, now what events lead to the use of the dead mans switch nuclear protocol?"
Makena: \*her eyes widen as she struggles to maintain composure while pouring herself a cup of wine\* "The event that led to the use of the nuclear protocol was.... the Second Russian Civil War"
Yuri: "correct...... now what event would lead to the social and global conditions that caused this civil war?" Yuri walks to an open kitchen window and tosses his cigar out after only a few puffs.
Makena: \*sitting in a chair at this point\* "The second Russian civil war is the final stage of the Third World War"
Yuri: "Once again you are correct, now wh..." yuri is interrupted by Makena
"The third world war is a result of a decade long escalation in the Russo-Europa War of 2024." Makena says while dropping the empty bottle on the floor.
Yuri: "And.... how does the Russo-Europa war start?"
Makena: "A rouge Russian general invades the Ukraine and upon ceding control over to the Moscow government he is elected by the state duma as chief General before eventually becoming a de facto totalitarian dictator using emergency war time powers"
Yuri: "and finally, what was the name of that de facto totalitarian dictator that is responsible for all these conflicts, escalations and wars?"
Makena: "Alexey Karov"
Yuri hands Makena a plane ticket to Moscow, upon seeing her confusion he relents "Pack your things, we're going to Russia."
|
“This is, without a doubt,” The haggard young man huffed. “The most disappointing moment of my life. Ever. Of all time.”
Daryl groggily fought his way through his chaotic tangle of pillow and blankets. He had been having the strangest dream, fueled by an excess of wine and weed.
But he didn’t recall anyone staying over…
“This is creation? This…” The young man spat onto Daryl’s worn bedroom rug. “Scubberdeguillion? This recently-homed vagrant?”
“Hey, that’s-ow!” Daryl found the corner of his bedside table with his hand as he flailed for the light. “Sons of Dis.”
“So *that’s* where I get it?!” Hands were thrown into air, exasperation and disgust in a motion.
“Get what?” Daryl clicked his bedside lamp.
A beat passed as the two stared at one another.
Daryl, confused, still fairly stoned, and absolutely lost in his own bedroom muttered, “…Gavin?”
“I might kill myself.” Apparently-Gavin sighed as he flopped onto the ground.
“What?” Daryl asked.
“*What*?” Gavin spat.
The two stared at one another.
Daryl croaked, but no words came along.
Gavin sputtered, but nothing made sense.
Daryl made inquisitive sounds.
Gavin rolled his eyes and made sarcastic hums.
The two held their breath, puffed out their cheeks, and sighed mightily. They had some exchange after that, not saying anything sensical. The occasional, “What?” An off hand, “How?” Here and there a, “But, then?” Though the whole was far less than the sum of its parts, the two came to an equilibrium. They understood without truly expounding. There was a certain confused acceptance as the pair settled into matching thousand-yard stares as a distant car alarm belched its displeasure.
“So… do you know about Orcos?” Daryl finally asked without focusing his eyes on anything.
“The baddie?” Gavin huffed.
“I haven’t released that.” Daryl held his breaths
“You wrote it last week.” Gavin sounded like he might cry.
“Julila?”
“You son of a bastard.”
The two held their heads in their hands. Mirrored actions for mirrored woe.
“Does it get better?” Gavin asked.
“Does it?” Daryl replied.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
*Tap, tap, tap...*
I wasn't even fully awake when I first heard the noise. It crept into my subconscious and there was nothing at all but the tapping and endless, grasping darkness.
*Tap, tap, tap...*
It took me a moment to realise that I was in my bed and that the darkness was merely a result of closed eyelids and the late hour. Nothing menacing or alarming about it. I rolled over and pulled the duvet a little higher and prepared to drift back off.
*Tap, tap, tap...*
Wait, if I was awake then what was the tapping? It didn't sound like rain, too singular and muffled. I blinked open my eyelids and to my alarm saw that there was a human at the end of my bed. The tapping stopped.
"Good, you're up." A female voice said.
I considered my options. There was no way to attempt to leave the room without going straight past the mysterious woman. I didn't exactly have any weapons to hand. I decided to plead ignorance.
"Look, take anything you want. You don't have to hurt me, I haven't even seen your face, s-"
"I can fix that." The figure interrupted and flicked the light switch.
*No!* I thought before light flooded the room and my night got altogether weirder.
The person in front of me wasn't human. I knew this not because of her violet hair, that could have been dyed, or even because of her strange but *almost* human proportions. I knew that this woman wasn't a human because that was not the backstory I had written for her.
"Elellania." I whispered.
Elellania was a powerful psychic turned space pirate. She could be a decent mechanic when necessary and a terrifying fighter on occasion but the thing that she could never, ever be was real. So how was she standing in my bedroom?
"Get up." Elellania ordered.
I complied awkwardly, wishing I was wearing something more flattering than pyjamas in need of a wash. Elellania was the version of myself I wished I could be. I would never admit that if asked but with her standing here I was bowled over by how obvious it was that I created this character to fix things about myself that were lacking. She was an assertive badass to counter my indecisive tendencies, string where I was weak, beautiful where I - OH CRAP SHE CAN HEAR THESE THOUGHTS.
"Yes," Elellania said in response to my internal monologue, "I don't care. Come with me."
I should have thoroughly considered the possibility that I was still dreaming but instead, I was excited. One of my favourite fictional characters out of my novel (and a half) had appeared and needed my help. I was only too eager to follow her but to my disappointment Elellania led me not out of my front door but into my tiny home office.
"Boot up the laptop." She ordered.
I poked the power switch and then waited awkwardly for the system to start.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
Elellania looked right into my eyes and her stare was exactly as piercing as I'd written it.
"I want you to write. Open the new novel."
I typed in my password and then opened the document which contained the new third of a novel (but definitely half a novel when I'm talking to my publisher). I waited expectantly.
"Right." Elellania said. "I don't care how you do it, but Ki'vah lives."
"What? No! See, Ki'vah has to die in order for the ship's Astral Engine to gain a second surge of life. Without his death, the ship would have drifted without power into the seventh sector and ultimately the entire galaxy would be destroyed. Not to mention, readers generally say that the romance between Elellania and Ki'vah would have been doomed to failure anyway as they never would have fallen in love under normal circumstances! And even disregarding all of this - Ki'vah died last book. I couldn't change it now even if I want to. Which. I. Don't."
I sat up straighter, somehow forgetting how ridiculous this whole situation is.
"How did you even get here?" I asked.
To my surprise, Elellania left the room and gestured for me to follow.
"Pit gave me- well, I guess you gave me. Anyway, you gave me an artefact which is believed to allow 'travel between any realms.' Guess what? Turns out it does."
She stepped to the side and I saw a glimmering, shifting gateway in my kitchen. My legs went wobbly and a very annoyed main character pulled me up before I could really fall.
"See that there? That is a plot hole. I had something that could travel between realms and I needed an escape. I turn up in this world and I find a frankly ridiculous drawing of me on a book cover in one of your stores. I mean, was that the chest you wished I'd actually have? Ugh. Anyway, I found the book, you gave me excellent psychic powers since day one and so I used my new toy to come and find you."
Elellania led me roughly back to my office.
"I've gone to a lot of trouble to find you. If necessary, I will go to similar lengths to ensure that every one of your secrets is told to your family, friends and enemies. So bring him back."
I tapped my fingers nervously, touching the keyboard too lightly to actually type.
"I'm sorry but I really can't. I described his death and that book has already been published."
To my surprise, Elellania actually laughed at this.
"You *can't?*" she mocked. "Marie, on this plane of existence there aren't any psychics at all yet I come from an ancient lineage of them. Your spaceships can't even leave the galaxy and yet my second-hand junker can traverse universes. There are a million impossibilities in my world compared to yours, coming back from death isn't impossible."
She was right. Technically, I could write whatever I wanted.
"I'm going to leave you with a choice. I'll return to my world, for now at least. Then you can either leave Ki'vah dead, and remain true to what your fans think is right. Or, you can resurrect him, and do what I, and therefore you, think is right. But choose the former and I *will* come back to ruin you."
I thought about this.
"I could write it so I'm safe either way."
Elellania grinned.
"Could you though? You sure as shit didn't write this."
She removed her left earring and placed it carefully on my desk and with that, she left. I stared at the earring, the only proof that she'd actually been here, until natural light started to pour through the cracks in the curtains. I considered my options.
And with that, I started to type.
|
“This is, without a doubt,” The haggard young man huffed. “The most disappointing moment of my life. Ever. Of all time.”
Daryl groggily fought his way through his chaotic tangle of pillow and blankets. He had been having the strangest dream, fueled by an excess of wine and weed.
But he didn’t recall anyone staying over…
“This is creation? This…” The young man spat onto Daryl’s worn bedroom rug. “Scubberdeguillion? This recently-homed vagrant?”
“Hey, that’s-ow!” Daryl found the corner of his bedside table with his hand as he flailed for the light. “Sons of Dis.”
“So *that’s* where I get it?!” Hands were thrown into air, exasperation and disgust in a motion.
“Get what?” Daryl clicked his bedside lamp.
A beat passed as the two stared at one another.
Daryl, confused, still fairly stoned, and absolutely lost in his own bedroom muttered, “…Gavin?”
“I might kill myself.” Apparently-Gavin sighed as he flopped onto the ground.
“What?” Daryl asked.
“*What*?” Gavin spat.
The two stared at one another.
Daryl croaked, but no words came along.
Gavin sputtered, but nothing made sense.
Daryl made inquisitive sounds.
Gavin rolled his eyes and made sarcastic hums.
The two held their breath, puffed out their cheeks, and sighed mightily. They had some exchange after that, not saying anything sensical. The occasional, “What?” An off hand, “How?” Here and there a, “But, then?” Though the whole was far less than the sum of its parts, the two came to an equilibrium. They understood without truly expounding. There was a certain confused acceptance as the pair settled into matching thousand-yard stares as a distant car alarm belched its displeasure.
“So… do you know about Orcos?” Daryl finally asked without focusing his eyes on anything.
“The baddie?” Gavin huffed.
“I haven’t released that.” Daryl held his breaths
“You wrote it last week.” Gavin sounded like he might cry.
“Julila?”
“You son of a bastard.”
The two held their heads in their hands. Mirrored actions for mirrored woe.
“Does it get better?” Gavin asked.
“Does it?” Daryl replied.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
>**REFRACTED WORLDS**
Resting soundly, I was shocked awake by a brutal slap across the face.
"Ow! What the hell?!" I shouted into the darkness of my room.
"You're *twisted*, you know that?!" Came a somewhat familiar voice.
I turned on a light.
At the foot of my bed was a young man- he was of average height, broad shoulders, tan skin, long, black hair, and scars adorned his arms. I knew this face- because I'd been designing it for years.
"Silas." I breathed.
"Yes, Silas, you prick." Silas huffed. "I put in so much effort to come meet God and it's *you*? And what's with the way you keep interfering in my life?"
"Ah, yeah, sorry...well, sort of."
Silas glowered.
"Look- your world exists for a reason. *You* exist for a reason. There is a reason why you must rise up, face the challenges you face, and endure what you endure."
"What is the reason, then?" He asked.
"Do you remember when you lost Somnus? When your brother fled, and left you behind?"
"Of course." Silas was gritting his teeth. Bad memory.
"That feeling of being left behind- well, the other Creators, the other people like me- a lot of them have felt this way, and not always do they have someone to share their feelings with. You eventually meet Tijn, you eventually meet the Wild Pilgrim, and you find a home. A community. The pain you endured carries you into healing, and with every twist and turn, you grow stronger, and the people around you grow, too. A lot of Creators, like myself, are isolated. We are alone. But- when we make worlds like yours, you can serve as a...how do I say this-"
"We're a bandage."
"Sort of, yeah. Our world is harsh, and our powers are very limited. Creating other worlds doesn't usually impact the world we reside in. Our world is war-torn, riddled with plagues and selfishness and cruelty. We give you, our creations, the power to change their surroundings, the ability to overcome the odds...and doing so gives us comfort."
"You give us that which you cannot possess."
"Yes. There isn't very much I can control in my life. I may lose my job tomorrow, a friend to disease the next day, my mother, father, anything- and there isn't anything I can actually do about it. But you- you have healing magic, and strength, and a clever mind. You can give me, and my readers, a kind of...catharsis."
Silas grimaced. "You underestimate not only yourself, but your kin."
"I don't think you understand, Silas. Every system in our world is broken, and every broken system is so ingrained that we don't have a way to overturn it, like steel beams buried so deeply in the earth, they may as well be coming from the molten core of the planet itself."
"Yet, here you are, crafting the stories that bring happiness to many."
"A brief reprieve from a life of darkness. A small candle in a winter's storm. Nothing grand."
"You write of overcoming struggle, yet fail to see that you *are* struggling. You write of the way you wish things were, you share your perspective, your imagination could nourish your community."
"All the writing in the world won't make magic real."
"No? Then how is it I am standing before you?" Silas grinned- but not kindly, more like he was making fun of me.
"You are a foolish creator. Take the lesson that you would have me learn, and apply it to yourself. Struggle. A battlefield can become a garden, so long as you never stop trying."
-------------------------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes
|
“This is, without a doubt,” The haggard young man huffed. “The most disappointing moment of my life. Ever. Of all time.”
Daryl groggily fought his way through his chaotic tangle of pillow and blankets. He had been having the strangest dream, fueled by an excess of wine and weed.
But he didn’t recall anyone staying over…
“This is creation? This…” The young man spat onto Daryl’s worn bedroom rug. “Scubberdeguillion? This recently-homed vagrant?”
“Hey, that’s-ow!” Daryl found the corner of his bedside table with his hand as he flailed for the light. “Sons of Dis.”
“So *that’s* where I get it?!” Hands were thrown into air, exasperation and disgust in a motion.
“Get what?” Daryl clicked his bedside lamp.
A beat passed as the two stared at one another.
Daryl, confused, still fairly stoned, and absolutely lost in his own bedroom muttered, “…Gavin?”
“I might kill myself.” Apparently-Gavin sighed as he flopped onto the ground.
“What?” Daryl asked.
“*What*?” Gavin spat.
The two stared at one another.
Daryl croaked, but no words came along.
Gavin sputtered, but nothing made sense.
Daryl made inquisitive sounds.
Gavin rolled his eyes and made sarcastic hums.
The two held their breath, puffed out their cheeks, and sighed mightily. They had some exchange after that, not saying anything sensical. The occasional, “What?” An off hand, “How?” Here and there a, “But, then?” Though the whole was far less than the sum of its parts, the two came to an equilibrium. They understood without truly expounding. There was a certain confused acceptance as the pair settled into matching thousand-yard stares as a distant car alarm belched its displeasure.
“So… do you know about Orcos?” Daryl finally asked without focusing his eyes on anything.
“The baddie?” Gavin huffed.
“I haven’t released that.” Daryl held his breaths
“You wrote it last week.” Gavin sounded like he might cry.
“Julila?”
“You son of a bastard.”
The two held their heads in their hands. Mirrored actions for mirrored woe.
“Does it get better?” Gavin asked.
“Does it?” Daryl replied.
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
*Tap, tap, tap...*
I wasn't even fully awake when I first heard the noise. It crept into my subconscious and there was nothing at all but the tapping and endless, grasping darkness.
*Tap, tap, tap...*
It took me a moment to realise that I was in my bed and that the darkness was merely a result of closed eyelids and the late hour. Nothing menacing or alarming about it. I rolled over and pulled the duvet a little higher and prepared to drift back off.
*Tap, tap, tap...*
Wait, if I was awake then what was the tapping? It didn't sound like rain, too singular and muffled. I blinked open my eyelids and to my alarm saw that there was a human at the end of my bed. The tapping stopped.
"Good, you're up." A female voice said.
I considered my options. There was no way to attempt to leave the room without going straight past the mysterious woman. I didn't exactly have any weapons to hand. I decided to plead ignorance.
"Look, take anything you want. You don't have to hurt me, I haven't even seen your face, s-"
"I can fix that." The figure interrupted and flicked the light switch.
*No!* I thought before light flooded the room and my night got altogether weirder.
The person in front of me wasn't human. I knew this not because of her violet hair, that could have been dyed, or even because of her strange but *almost* human proportions. I knew that this woman wasn't a human because that was not the backstory I had written for her.
"Elellania." I whispered.
Elellania was a powerful psychic turned space pirate. She could be a decent mechanic when necessary and a terrifying fighter on occasion but the thing that she could never, ever be was real. So how was she standing in my bedroom?
"Get up." Elellania ordered.
I complied awkwardly, wishing I was wearing something more flattering than pyjamas in need of a wash. Elellania was the version of myself I wished I could be. I would never admit that if asked but with her standing here I was bowled over by how obvious it was that I created this character to fix things about myself that were lacking. She was an assertive badass to counter my indecisive tendencies, string where I was weak, beautiful where I - OH CRAP SHE CAN HEAR THESE THOUGHTS.
"Yes," Elellania said in response to my internal monologue, "I don't care. Come with me."
I should have thoroughly considered the possibility that I was still dreaming but instead, I was excited. One of my favourite fictional characters out of my novel (and a half) had appeared and needed my help. I was only too eager to follow her but to my disappointment Elellania led me not out of my front door but into my tiny home office.
"Boot up the laptop." She ordered.
I poked the power switch and then waited awkwardly for the system to start.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
Elellania looked right into my eyes and her stare was exactly as piercing as I'd written it.
"I want you to write. Open the new novel."
I typed in my password and then opened the document which contained the new third of a novel (but definitely half a novel when I'm talking to my publisher). I waited expectantly.
"Right." Elellania said. "I don't care how you do it, but Ki'vah lives."
"What? No! See, Ki'vah has to die in order for the ship's Astral Engine to gain a second surge of life. Without his death, the ship would have drifted without power into the seventh sector and ultimately the entire galaxy would be destroyed. Not to mention, readers generally say that the romance between Elellania and Ki'vah would have been doomed to failure anyway as they never would have fallen in love under normal circumstances! And even disregarding all of this - Ki'vah died last book. I couldn't change it now even if I want to. Which. I. Don't."
I sat up straighter, somehow forgetting how ridiculous this whole situation is.
"How did you even get here?" I asked.
To my surprise, Elellania left the room and gestured for me to follow.
"Pit gave me- well, I guess you gave me. Anyway, you gave me an artefact which is believed to allow 'travel between any realms.' Guess what? Turns out it does."
She stepped to the side and I saw a glimmering, shifting gateway in my kitchen. My legs went wobbly and a very annoyed main character pulled me up before I could really fall.
"See that there? That is a plot hole. I had something that could travel between realms and I needed an escape. I turn up in this world and I find a frankly ridiculous drawing of me on a book cover in one of your stores. I mean, was that the chest you wished I'd actually have? Ugh. Anyway, I found the book, you gave me excellent psychic powers since day one and so I used my new toy to come and find you."
Elellania led me roughly back to my office.
"I've gone to a lot of trouble to find you. If necessary, I will go to similar lengths to ensure that every one of your secrets is told to your family, friends and enemies. So bring him back."
I tapped my fingers nervously, touching the keyboard too lightly to actually type.
"I'm sorry but I really can't. I described his death and that book has already been published."
To my surprise, Elellania actually laughed at this.
"You *can't?*" she mocked. "Marie, on this plane of existence there aren't any psychics at all yet I come from an ancient lineage of them. Your spaceships can't even leave the galaxy and yet my second-hand junker can traverse universes. There are a million impossibilities in my world compared to yours, coming back from death isn't impossible."
She was right. Technically, I could write whatever I wanted.
"I'm going to leave you with a choice. I'll return to my world, for now at least. Then you can either leave Ki'vah dead, and remain true to what your fans think is right. Or, you can resurrect him, and do what I, and therefore you, think is right. But choose the former and I *will* come back to ruin you."
I thought about this.
"I could write it so I'm safe either way."
Elellania grinned.
"Could you though? You sure as shit didn't write this."
She removed her left earring and placed it carefully on my desk and with that, she left. I stared at the earring, the only proof that she'd actually been here, until natural light started to pour through the cracks in the curtains. I considered my options.
And with that, I started to type.
|
\[Norilsk, Siberian Bunker - Former Russian Federation 2066.\]
"General Karov, What you are speaking of is madness!" the vaguely Russian advisor gasped while slowly reaching for his holstered revolver.
"You will betray me too Yuri? like so many have before?" Karov remarks while looking out through a blast proof window to see a seemingly endless field of damaged planes from a recent armed conflict.
Yuri draws his gun and aims it at Karov. "This is for Moscow, and all of mankind" The advisor opens fire as three rounds find their mark deep in the chest of the tyrannical despot. As the blood stained uniformed hit the ground with the metallic bang from self given military medals a faint laugh is heard from a dying Karov.
Karov: "To little........to...late"
Yuri walks over to the injured general and sees he's gripping a familiar object. "NO NO NO..." As he franticly tries to look away both Karov and Yuri are sent through time and space to seemingly random locations.
Well that's a good ending to chapter 9, Makena says to herself while closing the google doc on her computer. She gets up from her desk and approaches her Keurig coffee machine, while selecting the option of a medium hot mocha she gazes outside of her small studio apartment in Brooklyn.
Makena: "shit five years in college to become a writer and I'm still barely making it by. my mom was right, I should have just married that rich guy from high school." She turns her view away from her newest bank statement on the counter.
As she showers a thought catches her mind, perhaps she can ask the local newspaper if they need any freelance work done. After finishing up in the bathroom, changing into pajamas she returns to bed to find her window slightly open. A brief moment of confusion passes as she grabs a golf club and stealthily makes her way into her lit kitchen. Where she is met with a mysterious figure sitting at her desk with it's feet up while chugging back on a bottle of fancy white wine.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Makena screams while pointing her golf club out in a forward position mimicking a rapier.
The unamused figure takes a swig of wine before revealing himself to be Yuri. "For someone that wrote a fictional character with a borderline alcoholic trait I'd assume you'd have a better taste in liquor. What is this anyway, Oaked Chardonnay? Yuri says while reading the side of the bottle.
Makena sets the end of the golf club down while still holding the handle tightly. "It was on sale and it's just for occ.....wait why am I defending myself.... WHO ARE YOU!"
Yuri sets the bottle down while pulling out his wallet with a Russian ID card. "I'm FSB triple agent Yuri Brez."
Makena drops the golf club as shock freezes her in place.
Makena: "you...you... your a fictional character,... how is this possible."
Yuri: "A fascinating story we unfortunately don't have time for, you read the NYT paper this morning?" He askes while sliding it across the kitchen counter.
Makena looks at the front page as a picture of a young Russian general is shown amassing soldiers on the Ukrainian border. her confusion is interrupted by Yuri "Russian government set to cede more judicial power to General Alexey Karov following his successful border skirmish against Ukrainian forces last week"
Makena: "that's just... weird, I don't understand.
Yuri: \*lighting up a ciguar\* " Remind me, Makena. In your novel, where I'm from...... what event leads to the destruction of my planet?"
Makena: "the.... the dead mans switch nuclear protocol"
Yuri: "correct, now what events lead to the use of the dead mans switch nuclear protocol?"
Makena: \*her eyes widen as she struggles to maintain composure while pouring herself a cup of wine\* "The event that led to the use of the nuclear protocol was.... the Second Russian Civil War"
Yuri: "correct...... now what event would lead to the social and global conditions that caused this civil war?" Yuri walks to an open kitchen window and tosses his cigar out after only a few puffs.
Makena: \*sitting in a chair at this point\* "The second Russian civil war is the final stage of the Third World War"
Yuri: "Once again you are correct, now wh..." yuri is interrupted by Makena
"The third world war is a result of a decade long escalation in the Russo-Europa War of 2024." Makena says while dropping the empty bottle on the floor.
Yuri: "And.... how does the Russo-Europa war start?"
Makena: "A rouge Russian general invades the Ukraine and upon ceding control over to the Moscow government he is elected by the state duma as chief General before eventually becoming a de facto totalitarian dictator using emergency war time powers"
Yuri: "and finally, what was the name of that de facto totalitarian dictator that is responsible for all these conflicts, escalations and wars?"
Makena: "Alexey Karov"
Yuri hands Makena a plane ticket to Moscow, upon seeing her confusion he relents "Pack your things, we're going to Russia."
|
|
[WP] Unbeknownst to anyone, whenever someone on Earth creates a fictional world, that world suddenly appears in space somewhere.You are a young novelist working on the sequel to your best seller. You wake up one night to find the main character of that novel standing at the foot of your bed.
|
>**REFRACTED WORLDS**
Resting soundly, I was shocked awake by a brutal slap across the face.
"Ow! What the hell?!" I shouted into the darkness of my room.
"You're *twisted*, you know that?!" Came a somewhat familiar voice.
I turned on a light.
At the foot of my bed was a young man- he was of average height, broad shoulders, tan skin, long, black hair, and scars adorned his arms. I knew this face- because I'd been designing it for years.
"Silas." I breathed.
"Yes, Silas, you prick." Silas huffed. "I put in so much effort to come meet God and it's *you*? And what's with the way you keep interfering in my life?"
"Ah, yeah, sorry...well, sort of."
Silas glowered.
"Look- your world exists for a reason. *You* exist for a reason. There is a reason why you must rise up, face the challenges you face, and endure what you endure."
"What is the reason, then?" He asked.
"Do you remember when you lost Somnus? When your brother fled, and left you behind?"
"Of course." Silas was gritting his teeth. Bad memory.
"That feeling of being left behind- well, the other Creators, the other people like me- a lot of them have felt this way, and not always do they have someone to share their feelings with. You eventually meet Tijn, you eventually meet the Wild Pilgrim, and you find a home. A community. The pain you endured carries you into healing, and with every twist and turn, you grow stronger, and the people around you grow, too. A lot of Creators, like myself, are isolated. We are alone. But- when we make worlds like yours, you can serve as a...how do I say this-"
"We're a bandage."
"Sort of, yeah. Our world is harsh, and our powers are very limited. Creating other worlds doesn't usually impact the world we reside in. Our world is war-torn, riddled with plagues and selfishness and cruelty. We give you, our creations, the power to change their surroundings, the ability to overcome the odds...and doing so gives us comfort."
"You give us that which you cannot possess."
"Yes. There isn't very much I can control in my life. I may lose my job tomorrow, a friend to disease the next day, my mother, father, anything- and there isn't anything I can actually do about it. But you- you have healing magic, and strength, and a clever mind. You can give me, and my readers, a kind of...catharsis."
Silas grimaced. "You underestimate not only yourself, but your kin."
"I don't think you understand, Silas. Every system in our world is broken, and every broken system is so ingrained that we don't have a way to overturn it, like steel beams buried so deeply in the earth, they may as well be coming from the molten core of the planet itself."
"Yet, here you are, crafting the stories that bring happiness to many."
"A brief reprieve from a life of darkness. A small candle in a winter's storm. Nothing grand."
"You write of overcoming struggle, yet fail to see that you *are* struggling. You write of the way you wish things were, you share your perspective, your imagination could nourish your community."
"All the writing in the world won't make magic real."
"No? Then how is it I am standing before you?" Silas grinned- but not kindly, more like he was making fun of me.
"You are a foolish creator. Take the lesson that you would have me learn, and apply it to yourself. Struggle. A battlefield can become a garden, so long as you never stop trying."
-------------------------------------------------
r/nystorm_writes
|
\[Norilsk, Siberian Bunker - Former Russian Federation 2066.\]
"General Karov, What you are speaking of is madness!" the vaguely Russian advisor gasped while slowly reaching for his holstered revolver.
"You will betray me too Yuri? like so many have before?" Karov remarks while looking out through a blast proof window to see a seemingly endless field of damaged planes from a recent armed conflict.
Yuri draws his gun and aims it at Karov. "This is for Moscow, and all of mankind" The advisor opens fire as three rounds find their mark deep in the chest of the tyrannical despot. As the blood stained uniformed hit the ground with the metallic bang from self given military medals a faint laugh is heard from a dying Karov.
Karov: "To little........to...late"
Yuri walks over to the injured general and sees he's gripping a familiar object. "NO NO NO..." As he franticly tries to look away both Karov and Yuri are sent through time and space to seemingly random locations.
Well that's a good ending to chapter 9, Makena says to herself while closing the google doc on her computer. She gets up from her desk and approaches her Keurig coffee machine, while selecting the option of a medium hot mocha she gazes outside of her small studio apartment in Brooklyn.
Makena: "shit five years in college to become a writer and I'm still barely making it by. my mom was right, I should have just married that rich guy from high school." She turns her view away from her newest bank statement on the counter.
As she showers a thought catches her mind, perhaps she can ask the local newspaper if they need any freelance work done. After finishing up in the bathroom, changing into pajamas she returns to bed to find her window slightly open. A brief moment of confusion passes as she grabs a golf club and stealthily makes her way into her lit kitchen. Where she is met with a mysterious figure sitting at her desk with it's feet up while chugging back on a bottle of fancy white wine.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!" Makena screams while pointing her golf club out in a forward position mimicking a rapier.
The unamused figure takes a swig of wine before revealing himself to be Yuri. "For someone that wrote a fictional character with a borderline alcoholic trait I'd assume you'd have a better taste in liquor. What is this anyway, Oaked Chardonnay? Yuri says while reading the side of the bottle.
Makena sets the end of the golf club down while still holding the handle tightly. "It was on sale and it's just for occ.....wait why am I defending myself.... WHO ARE YOU!"
Yuri sets the bottle down while pulling out his wallet with a Russian ID card. "I'm FSB triple agent Yuri Brez."
Makena drops the golf club as shock freezes her in place.
Makena: "you...you... your a fictional character,... how is this possible."
Yuri: "A fascinating story we unfortunately don't have time for, you read the NYT paper this morning?" He askes while sliding it across the kitchen counter.
Makena looks at the front page as a picture of a young Russian general is shown amassing soldiers on the Ukrainian border. her confusion is interrupted by Yuri "Russian government set to cede more judicial power to General Alexey Karov following his successful border skirmish against Ukrainian forces last week"
Makena: "that's just... weird, I don't understand.
Yuri: \*lighting up a ciguar\* " Remind me, Makena. In your novel, where I'm from...... what event leads to the destruction of my planet?"
Makena: "the.... the dead mans switch nuclear protocol"
Yuri: "correct, now what events lead to the use of the dead mans switch nuclear protocol?"
Makena: \*her eyes widen as she struggles to maintain composure while pouring herself a cup of wine\* "The event that led to the use of the nuclear protocol was.... the Second Russian Civil War"
Yuri: "correct...... now what event would lead to the social and global conditions that caused this civil war?" Yuri walks to an open kitchen window and tosses his cigar out after only a few puffs.
Makena: \*sitting in a chair at this point\* "The second Russian civil war is the final stage of the Third World War"
Yuri: "Once again you are correct, now wh..." yuri is interrupted by Makena
"The third world war is a result of a decade long escalation in the Russo-Europa War of 2024." Makena says while dropping the empty bottle on the floor.
Yuri: "And.... how does the Russo-Europa war start?"
Makena: "A rouge Russian general invades the Ukraine and upon ceding control over to the Moscow government he is elected by the state duma as chief General before eventually becoming a de facto totalitarian dictator using emergency war time powers"
Yuri: "and finally, what was the name of that de facto totalitarian dictator that is responsible for all these conflicts, escalations and wars?"
Makena: "Alexey Karov"
Yuri hands Makena a plane ticket to Moscow, upon seeing her confusion he relents "Pack your things, we're going to Russia."
|
|
[WP] A device has been invented that can read a person’s memory. Police and prosecutors love it for investigating crime. A suspicious spouse can check the alibi of their other half. You just discovered another way to use the device.
|
Have you ever had a thought so wild, but eventually worked out anyway?
The memory Scape was a marvel, able to retrieve memories on demand. Young, old, it didn't matter. You could even use it on pets!
So why didn't anyone think of using it on inanimate objects? I didn't, other than that i was sitting in the office on a graveyard shift, bored out of my mind as i happened to be staring at the device.
Alright, so the shape of the memory scape - kinda like a cap or a helmet, doesn't make you think of using it on anything that doesn't have an obvious head. So I don't know what i was thinking when i pulled out a benjamin franklin hundred dollar bill and put it in for a laugh.
The screen it was attached to started to make funny noises, and i almost killed it thinking i may have caused irreversible damage. But as my finger touched the power button, a movie started to play. I saw corruption. I saw secret deals. I saw the deepest darkest evil humanity had to offer. But i also saw kindness, and selfless generousity.
I was watching the memories of this banknote.
Author's note: this short anecdote is based on a series of short stories by a chinese author i really enjoyed in my youth. Writing any more would be pure plagiarism unfortunately 😓
|
"This is rough Casey. The grains are barely legible," Dr. Fiona Xu said, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes - as if doing that would clear away all the noise plaguing our Memory Extracts.
Letting out a sigh, I looked closer at the screen.
"I know, but we have no other leads. No other witnesses," I reiterated, half out of frustration and the other half out of prayer. At this point, a lavish, heavenly miracle needed to happen to get us what we needed. Tapping the tablet pen I had to my cheek, I kept my eyes glued to the MEs. There had to be something workable here.
"This is visual data? And we're positive Max was in the room?" I asked Dr. Xu. She nodded listlessly, glancing at the time on her computer monitor. 2:08 AM. We had been working on this for hours. It was a pointless question; and yet I needed to constantly reassure myself this was the only way we could get the truth. The all encompassing, important truth. I gently touched her shoulder.
"Poor Max tried defending the victim. We can tell based on the blood and bits of tissue he had on his teeth. He fought to defend her until his very last breath," Dr. Xu retold the last crucial moments of both Max and the victim with pain in her voice. I supposed they were both victims. Tears threatened to fill my eyes thinking about it. Dr. Xu seemed to notice.
"I don't think I've ever seen you lose your composure like this. I know how tough it is seeing cruelty not just confined to our own species. You're capable, Casey. But you're also still young. I can see how what happened to Max might affect you," Dr. Xu compassionately noted. I nodded, pressing my lips together in a tight line and holding the lump in my throat back.
I was usually pretty professional. Maybe it was all the hours we burned simply just extracting the data. It was highly unprecedented - incredibly unusual. What we were doing simply had never been done before at this scale. We were breaking ground on neuroforensic science. And I wish I felt more of the giddy rush that accompanied solving puzzles like these. I was usually in my element when it came to anything Memory Extraction related - that's why, despite not even earning my PhD yet, I was hand-picked by the CIA to conduct Memory Extraction Research on the most sensitive projects the country had to offer. But I think the weight of it all finally dawned on me. I recently had to bury a lifelong friend, and everything that was happening threatened to bring those feelings back to the surface.
"Well, it's not like we see each other a lot outside of work," I mentioned offhandedly, my exhaustion and sadness burying any sense of propriety. Dr. Xu's eyes and eyebrows lifted at that, and at first I thought I offended her.
"I mean, I'm usually pretty much a hermit most of the time..." I ambled before she cut me off.
"No, that's not what that was," She paused, looking at me one more time, shaking her head at my awkward comment, before looking back at the computer screen, "Maybe we've been *looking* at this wrong. Maybe the ME is so grainy because there simply weren't enough information pockets for visual data or audio data."
My head reeled back at the realization. Dr. Xu's revelation snapped me back into focus. I took my pen and navigated through my tablet, opening my email inbox.
"Are you suggesting we extract other sensory data? Like maybe, olfactory data?" I asked her. She nodded, though with a pained expression on her face.
"I know we barely have any schemas for mapping out smells. But I don't think we have a choice in the matter. Perhaps olfactory data has stronger associations with emotional keys that will reinforce identity keying with greater certainty," Dr. Xu explained. I nodded, still on my tablet, sifting through my emails.
"Max is a dog. He would have had greater associations between different scents versus his sight. It makes sense," I nodded before continuing, trying not to remember my own old friend which would make me start crying again, "one of my old grad school buddies sent me this abstract sometime a while ago. The paper explained how somebody with synesthesia may help us key different schemas of non-visual MEs."
Dr. Xu's bloodshot, baggy eyes lit brighter than a lighthouse in the night. She nodded quickly, and started typing.
"It's a longshot, but let's see if anything on that abstract can crosswalk Max's olfactory memories. A dog's thoughts are probably less complex than a human's. It may not be such a lost cause," She spoke, enthusiasm drenching her words. I smiled but kept my hopes low. It could work. And if we figured this out, we might actually be able to end a war before it ever started. I pulled up a file on my tablet.
"I also managed to extract MEs from our family pet. Apollo. She was an Australian Shepherd. I'd been trying to peek into them for the past few months," I admitted sheepishly. Dr. Xu looked even more surprised, and after a few seconds her expression turned into excitement.
"I heard you lost her recently. I'm sorry for your loss, Casey. But in terms of what that data could do for what we're doing... And the fact that you managed to extract any of it at all... It quite frankly holds a lot of potential," Dr. Xu said.
*That data,* I thought, *was my dog. It was everything that she ever was and ever will be.*
I shook my head to clear it. I needed to use my love for Apollo for constructive means at this point. Everything was at stake. I could grapple with my heavy, uncomfortable emotions later.
13 year old Dawn Prescott, only daughter of the current sitting President of the United States, Eileen Prescott, was assassinated three days ago in an unprecedented case of total memory cleansing. Every secret service member who was with her, and eventually Dawn herself, had their brains internally liquefied by unknown means after a clear physical struggle between the assassin, all the secret service members, and finally Dawn herself. ME extraction was a total impossibility. The only organic being that could have any memory material extracted was Max, Dawn's faithful canine companion. He had lost his life defending Dawn from the assassin, and though the assailant's tissue was able to be extracted from his remains after the incident, no matching DNA samples could be matched, even after running it through several international security agency databases.
I bit my lip as I tried to hold my tears back. Even after she was gone, Apollo would still be helping me. She would hopefully be the key, along with other memories from individuals who experience their senses in a different way.
*Maybe there is a way to stop impending crisis and doom*, I sarcastically thought. Global warfare and nuclear annihilation may be prevented once we discovered the truth. Truth that could not have been gained without the perspective of those a little different than the rest of us.
|
|
[WP] A device has been invented that can read a person’s memory. Police and prosecutors love it for investigating crime. A suspicious spouse can check the alibi of their other half. You just discovered another way to use the device.
|
I pick up the old man's plate after he finishes eating. "Thank you nurse." He says, while I walk out of the room. I say, "You're welcome," and continue out of the room. I know that the Memory Viewer, at least medically, can interpret and remove memories. The latter use being illegal, but I wasn't going to use it for either of those purposes.
This old man was fading. Alzheimer's Disease. He had forgotten the names of his family years ago. He's forgetting faces, and moments of clarity are getting more and more rare. He's beginning to have difficulty swallowing. I know he will die soon.
I unpack the equipment. A Memory Viewer, very expensive. But I hope it'll be worth it.
It took me 2 months to figure out how to put the machine together. The old man lost some of his ability to walk. I tell him we're going to take a walk to the family room. He obliges. He requires assistance for the last half of the small walk. "Nurse, what is that machine?" He asks me.
"It's something that will help your memory Mr. Thread." I tell him.
"I see... Should I sit in it?" He asks me. I respond with a positive and help him into the chair of the machine.
I lower the helmet of the device. I strap in the old man. I begin to type commands on the computer.
The Memory Viewer does not normally reinsert the memory into the brain. This had been discovered as a side-effect from early testing of the device. It is used for engraving memories. However, I believe it could be used to repair neurotransmitters. Medical surgery exists to remove the buildup of protein in brains of Alzheimer's patients, which is why the old man is still alive.
I set the recovery range from 1954 - 2031. His entire lifespan. This could kill him. But at this point, what's the difference? I tell him it might hurt a bit, he responds with a joke. "Everything hurts already, a bit more couldn't do me too bad!" At least his potential last words were good ones.
I activate the device. I hear the whirring. I see his memories. I see jungles. I see his family. I see his days as a young man. I see him age. I see him take care of his children. I smile, knowing that if he were to die, at least he would remember his family.
After 30 minutes, the process ends. The old man is still, his body slumped down. I check his pulse. No difference. I'm hopeful.
The old man wakes up. He stares into my eyes.
"... Son?"
|
"This is rough Casey. The grains are barely legible," Dr. Fiona Xu said, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes - as if doing that would clear away all the noise plaguing our Memory Extracts.
Letting out a sigh, I looked closer at the screen.
"I know, but we have no other leads. No other witnesses," I reiterated, half out of frustration and the other half out of prayer. At this point, a lavish, heavenly miracle needed to happen to get us what we needed. Tapping the tablet pen I had to my cheek, I kept my eyes glued to the MEs. There had to be something workable here.
"This is visual data? And we're positive Max was in the room?" I asked Dr. Xu. She nodded listlessly, glancing at the time on her computer monitor. 2:08 AM. We had been working on this for hours. It was a pointless question; and yet I needed to constantly reassure myself this was the only way we could get the truth. The all encompassing, important truth. I gently touched her shoulder.
"Poor Max tried defending the victim. We can tell based on the blood and bits of tissue he had on his teeth. He fought to defend her until his very last breath," Dr. Xu retold the last crucial moments of both Max and the victim with pain in her voice. I supposed they were both victims. Tears threatened to fill my eyes thinking about it. Dr. Xu seemed to notice.
"I don't think I've ever seen you lose your composure like this. I know how tough it is seeing cruelty not just confined to our own species. You're capable, Casey. But you're also still young. I can see how what happened to Max might affect you," Dr. Xu compassionately noted. I nodded, pressing my lips together in a tight line and holding the lump in my throat back.
I was usually pretty professional. Maybe it was all the hours we burned simply just extracting the data. It was highly unprecedented - incredibly unusual. What we were doing simply had never been done before at this scale. We were breaking ground on neuroforensic science. And I wish I felt more of the giddy rush that accompanied solving puzzles like these. I was usually in my element when it came to anything Memory Extraction related - that's why, despite not even earning my PhD yet, I was hand-picked by the CIA to conduct Memory Extraction Research on the most sensitive projects the country had to offer. But I think the weight of it all finally dawned on me. I recently had to bury a lifelong friend, and everything that was happening threatened to bring those feelings back to the surface.
"Well, it's not like we see each other a lot outside of work," I mentioned offhandedly, my exhaustion and sadness burying any sense of propriety. Dr. Xu's eyes and eyebrows lifted at that, and at first I thought I offended her.
"I mean, I'm usually pretty much a hermit most of the time..." I ambled before she cut me off.
"No, that's not what that was," She paused, looking at me one more time, shaking her head at my awkward comment, before looking back at the computer screen, "Maybe we've been *looking* at this wrong. Maybe the ME is so grainy because there simply weren't enough information pockets for visual data or audio data."
My head reeled back at the realization. Dr. Xu's revelation snapped me back into focus. I took my pen and navigated through my tablet, opening my email inbox.
"Are you suggesting we extract other sensory data? Like maybe, olfactory data?" I asked her. She nodded, though with a pained expression on her face.
"I know we barely have any schemas for mapping out smells. But I don't think we have a choice in the matter. Perhaps olfactory data has stronger associations with emotional keys that will reinforce identity keying with greater certainty," Dr. Xu explained. I nodded, still on my tablet, sifting through my emails.
"Max is a dog. He would have had greater associations between different scents versus his sight. It makes sense," I nodded before continuing, trying not to remember my own old friend which would make me start crying again, "one of my old grad school buddies sent me this abstract sometime a while ago. The paper explained how somebody with synesthesia may help us key different schemas of non-visual MEs."
Dr. Xu's bloodshot, baggy eyes lit brighter than a lighthouse in the night. She nodded quickly, and started typing.
"It's a longshot, but let's see if anything on that abstract can crosswalk Max's olfactory memories. A dog's thoughts are probably less complex than a human's. It may not be such a lost cause," She spoke, enthusiasm drenching her words. I smiled but kept my hopes low. It could work. And if we figured this out, we might actually be able to end a war before it ever started. I pulled up a file on my tablet.
"I also managed to extract MEs from our family pet. Apollo. She was an Australian Shepherd. I'd been trying to peek into them for the past few months," I admitted sheepishly. Dr. Xu looked even more surprised, and after a few seconds her expression turned into excitement.
"I heard you lost her recently. I'm sorry for your loss, Casey. But in terms of what that data could do for what we're doing... And the fact that you managed to extract any of it at all... It quite frankly holds a lot of potential," Dr. Xu said.
*That data,* I thought, *was my dog. It was everything that she ever was and ever will be.*
I shook my head to clear it. I needed to use my love for Apollo for constructive means at this point. Everything was at stake. I could grapple with my heavy, uncomfortable emotions later.
13 year old Dawn Prescott, only daughter of the current sitting President of the United States, Eileen Prescott, was assassinated three days ago in an unprecedented case of total memory cleansing. Every secret service member who was with her, and eventually Dawn herself, had their brains internally liquefied by unknown means after a clear physical struggle between the assassin, all the secret service members, and finally Dawn herself. ME extraction was a total impossibility. The only organic being that could have any memory material extracted was Max, Dawn's faithful canine companion. He had lost his life defending Dawn from the assassin, and though the assailant's tissue was able to be extracted from his remains after the incident, no matching DNA samples could be matched, even after running it through several international security agency databases.
I bit my lip as I tried to hold my tears back. Even after she was gone, Apollo would still be helping me. She would hopefully be the key, along with other memories from individuals who experience their senses in a different way.
*Maybe there is a way to stop impending crisis and doom*, I sarcastically thought. Global warfare and nuclear annihilation may be prevented once we discovered the truth. Truth that could not have been gained without the perspective of those a little different than the rest of us.
|
|
[WP] A device has been invented that can read a person’s memory. Police and prosecutors love it for investigating crime. A suspicious spouse can check the alibi of their other half. You just discovered another way to use the device.
|
"Please, let me go. I beg you. I'll do anything. I'll—"
"You'll finish *The Mist of Dawn*?"
Gerald B. B. Donald squirmed in his seat. Pearls of sweat slid down his face, fat like an overstuffed leather bag, and disappeared down into his jungle of a beard. I had the man tied down, and now all that was left ...
"Six more months and it's done! I swear! I've got it all worked out."
I slipped on my gloves. "That's what you said ten years ago, remember? It's seems the final book of your series, *A Ballad of Night and Day*, is always half a year away. But I'm sure you've got it worked out. You're just too lazy to do the job."
As he pleaded for mercy, I put the extractor helmet over his head. I had to bribe a detective to get my hands on one, but it was worth it. This thing sucked up memories with the greed of a river piranha. Neuronal dendrites and axons are like the pages of a book. Once you've got them all mapped out you can put it all in order and read it like the most private diary you can imagine. Every stealthy fart. Every moment of envy or pride. It was all here. It was all in the book.
Gerald screamed the moment I flicked the switch. Electricity crackled in the air and I laughed. *The Mist of Dawn* would be mine. I had waited for more than a decade, but it would finally be mine.
Once the helmet powered down he let out a tired sigh. "Please," he said. "There's still time for you to undo it. Don't read through my memories. Leave them alone."
Perhaps he was afraid that I would reveal it all to the world? It was a bit late for that. The Netflix adaptation his work had concluded a long time ago, and it wasn't the least satisfactory. No, I wanted *his* ending. The way he, the creator, had intended it. And it didn't interest me to show it anyone. This was personal.
"Now," I said. "Let's see what you've got planned for Blarion, Maefernis, Tim, and the rest of the inhabitants of Easthanatos."
I had trouble containing my excitement. Finally the moment had come. I had waited for so long for this, and now I would finally learn the truth.
Organizing his memories such that all I would be left with was that which was related to *The Mist of Dawn*, I was prepared to wait for a while as it got sorted out. It was a pleasant surprise that it was finished in a heartbeat. But once I opened the document I felt my stomach drop. "What?" I said. "... What is this?"
"I told you not to read it," said Gerald.
"Silence!"
The machine had stripped his digitalized memories of anything not related to the book, and there was hardly anything left. There were only ... keywords. "Awesome dragon (?). Zombies. Everyone gathers in one spot and it explodes. It was all a dream?? ~~ALIENS~~. TIME TRAVEL."
"This is ..."
Gerald shook his head and sobbed. "I have some really good ideas. I honestly think I can finish it. Just have to get started, you know?"
I turned. "You haven't ... You haven't even started writing it?"
"Well ... I mean, if I'm thinking about it that's writing too, right? And I've been thinking about it. It's just, you know, I've sort of written myself into a corner."
"... You're never going to finish it, are you?"
He looked at me the way a cat might when you ask it a question you know it can't understand nor answer. I untied him and let him go. He made me promise not to reveal the big 'time travel twist' he'd planned.
After he'd gone I made some adjustments to the machine, and put on the helmet. Everything would be alright. I would just have to delete all my memories of ever having read *A Ballad of Night and Day*.
|
"This is rough Casey. The grains are barely legible," Dr. Fiona Xu said, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes - as if doing that would clear away all the noise plaguing our Memory Extracts.
Letting out a sigh, I looked closer at the screen.
"I know, but we have no other leads. No other witnesses," I reiterated, half out of frustration and the other half out of prayer. At this point, a lavish, heavenly miracle needed to happen to get us what we needed. Tapping the tablet pen I had to my cheek, I kept my eyes glued to the MEs. There had to be something workable here.
"This is visual data? And we're positive Max was in the room?" I asked Dr. Xu. She nodded listlessly, glancing at the time on her computer monitor. 2:08 AM. We had been working on this for hours. It was a pointless question; and yet I needed to constantly reassure myself this was the only way we could get the truth. The all encompassing, important truth. I gently touched her shoulder.
"Poor Max tried defending the victim. We can tell based on the blood and bits of tissue he had on his teeth. He fought to defend her until his very last breath," Dr. Xu retold the last crucial moments of both Max and the victim with pain in her voice. I supposed they were both victims. Tears threatened to fill my eyes thinking about it. Dr. Xu seemed to notice.
"I don't think I've ever seen you lose your composure like this. I know how tough it is seeing cruelty not just confined to our own species. You're capable, Casey. But you're also still young. I can see how what happened to Max might affect you," Dr. Xu compassionately noted. I nodded, pressing my lips together in a tight line and holding the lump in my throat back.
I was usually pretty professional. Maybe it was all the hours we burned simply just extracting the data. It was highly unprecedented - incredibly unusual. What we were doing simply had never been done before at this scale. We were breaking ground on neuroforensic science. And I wish I felt more of the giddy rush that accompanied solving puzzles like these. I was usually in my element when it came to anything Memory Extraction related - that's why, despite not even earning my PhD yet, I was hand-picked by the CIA to conduct Memory Extraction Research on the most sensitive projects the country had to offer. But I think the weight of it all finally dawned on me. I recently had to bury a lifelong friend, and everything that was happening threatened to bring those feelings back to the surface.
"Well, it's not like we see each other a lot outside of work," I mentioned offhandedly, my exhaustion and sadness burying any sense of propriety. Dr. Xu's eyes and eyebrows lifted at that, and at first I thought I offended her.
"I mean, I'm usually pretty much a hermit most of the time..." I ambled before she cut me off.
"No, that's not what that was," She paused, looking at me one more time, shaking her head at my awkward comment, before looking back at the computer screen, "Maybe we've been *looking* at this wrong. Maybe the ME is so grainy because there simply weren't enough information pockets for visual data or audio data."
My head reeled back at the realization. Dr. Xu's revelation snapped me back into focus. I took my pen and navigated through my tablet, opening my email inbox.
"Are you suggesting we extract other sensory data? Like maybe, olfactory data?" I asked her. She nodded, though with a pained expression on her face.
"I know we barely have any schemas for mapping out smells. But I don't think we have a choice in the matter. Perhaps olfactory data has stronger associations with emotional keys that will reinforce identity keying with greater certainty," Dr. Xu explained. I nodded, still on my tablet, sifting through my emails.
"Max is a dog. He would have had greater associations between different scents versus his sight. It makes sense," I nodded before continuing, trying not to remember my own old friend which would make me start crying again, "one of my old grad school buddies sent me this abstract sometime a while ago. The paper explained how somebody with synesthesia may help us key different schemas of non-visual MEs."
Dr. Xu's bloodshot, baggy eyes lit brighter than a lighthouse in the night. She nodded quickly, and started typing.
"It's a longshot, but let's see if anything on that abstract can crosswalk Max's olfactory memories. A dog's thoughts are probably less complex than a human's. It may not be such a lost cause," She spoke, enthusiasm drenching her words. I smiled but kept my hopes low. It could work. And if we figured this out, we might actually be able to end a war before it ever started. I pulled up a file on my tablet.
"I also managed to extract MEs from our family pet. Apollo. She was an Australian Shepherd. I'd been trying to peek into them for the past few months," I admitted sheepishly. Dr. Xu looked even more surprised, and after a few seconds her expression turned into excitement.
"I heard you lost her recently. I'm sorry for your loss, Casey. But in terms of what that data could do for what we're doing... And the fact that you managed to extract any of it at all... It quite frankly holds a lot of potential," Dr. Xu said.
*That data,* I thought, *was my dog. It was everything that she ever was and ever will be.*
I shook my head to clear it. I needed to use my love for Apollo for constructive means at this point. Everything was at stake. I could grapple with my heavy, uncomfortable emotions later.
13 year old Dawn Prescott, only daughter of the current sitting President of the United States, Eileen Prescott, was assassinated three days ago in an unprecedented case of total memory cleansing. Every secret service member who was with her, and eventually Dawn herself, had their brains internally liquefied by unknown means after a clear physical struggle between the assassin, all the secret service members, and finally Dawn herself. ME extraction was a total impossibility. The only organic being that could have any memory material extracted was Max, Dawn's faithful canine companion. He had lost his life defending Dawn from the assassin, and though the assailant's tissue was able to be extracted from his remains after the incident, no matching DNA samples could be matched, even after running it through several international security agency databases.
I bit my lip as I tried to hold my tears back. Even after she was gone, Apollo would still be helping me. She would hopefully be the key, along with other memories from individuals who experience their senses in a different way.
*Maybe there is a way to stop impending crisis and doom*, I sarcastically thought. Global warfare and nuclear annihilation may be prevented once we discovered the truth. Truth that could not have been gained without the perspective of those a little different than the rest of us.
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[WP] A device has been invented that can read a person’s memory. Police and prosecutors love it for investigating crime. A suspicious spouse can check the alibi of their other half. You just discovered another way to use the device.
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I pick up the old man's plate after he finishes eating. "Thank you nurse." He says, while I walk out of the room. I say, "You're welcome," and continue out of the room. I know that the Memory Viewer, at least medically, can interpret and remove memories. The latter use being illegal, but I wasn't going to use it for either of those purposes.
This old man was fading. Alzheimer's Disease. He had forgotten the names of his family years ago. He's forgetting faces, and moments of clarity are getting more and more rare. He's beginning to have difficulty swallowing. I know he will die soon.
I unpack the equipment. A Memory Viewer, very expensive. But I hope it'll be worth it.
It took me 2 months to figure out how to put the machine together. The old man lost some of his ability to walk. I tell him we're going to take a walk to the family room. He obliges. He requires assistance for the last half of the small walk. "Nurse, what is that machine?" He asks me.
"It's something that will help your memory Mr. Thread." I tell him.
"I see... Should I sit in it?" He asks me. I respond with a positive and help him into the chair of the machine.
I lower the helmet of the device. I strap in the old man. I begin to type commands on the computer.
The Memory Viewer does not normally reinsert the memory into the brain. This had been discovered as a side-effect from early testing of the device. It is used for engraving memories. However, I believe it could be used to repair neurotransmitters. Medical surgery exists to remove the buildup of protein in brains of Alzheimer's patients, which is why the old man is still alive.
I set the recovery range from 1954 - 2031. His entire lifespan. This could kill him. But at this point, what's the difference? I tell him it might hurt a bit, he responds with a joke. "Everything hurts already, a bit more couldn't do me too bad!" At least his potential last words were good ones.
I activate the device. I hear the whirring. I see his memories. I see jungles. I see his family. I see his days as a young man. I see him age. I see him take care of his children. I smile, knowing that if he were to die, at least he would remember his family.
After 30 minutes, the process ends. The old man is still, his body slumped down. I check his pulse. No difference. I'm hopeful.
The old man wakes up. He stares into my eyes.
"... Son?"
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Have you ever had a thought so wild, but eventually worked out anyway?
The memory Scape was a marvel, able to retrieve memories on demand. Young, old, it didn't matter. You could even use it on pets!
So why didn't anyone think of using it on inanimate objects? I didn't, other than that i was sitting in the office on a graveyard shift, bored out of my mind as i happened to be staring at the device.
Alright, so the shape of the memory scape - kinda like a cap or a helmet, doesn't make you think of using it on anything that doesn't have an obvious head. So I don't know what i was thinking when i pulled out a benjamin franklin hundred dollar bill and put it in for a laugh.
The screen it was attached to started to make funny noises, and i almost killed it thinking i may have caused irreversible damage. But as my finger touched the power button, a movie started to play. I saw corruption. I saw secret deals. I saw the deepest darkest evil humanity had to offer. But i also saw kindness, and selfless generousity.
I was watching the memories of this banknote.
Author's note: this short anecdote is based on a series of short stories by a chinese author i really enjoyed in my youth. Writing any more would be pure plagiarism unfortunately 😓
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[WP] A device has been invented that can read a person’s memory. Police and prosecutors love it for investigating crime. A suspicious spouse can check the alibi of their other half. You just discovered another way to use the device.
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"Please, let me go. I beg you. I'll do anything. I'll—"
"You'll finish *The Mist of Dawn*?"
Gerald B. B. Donald squirmed in his seat. Pearls of sweat slid down his face, fat like an overstuffed leather bag, and disappeared down into his jungle of a beard. I had the man tied down, and now all that was left ...
"Six more months and it's done! I swear! I've got it all worked out."
I slipped on my gloves. "That's what you said ten years ago, remember? It's seems the final book of your series, *A Ballad of Night and Day*, is always half a year away. But I'm sure you've got it worked out. You're just too lazy to do the job."
As he pleaded for mercy, I put the extractor helmet over his head. I had to bribe a detective to get my hands on one, but it was worth it. This thing sucked up memories with the greed of a river piranha. Neuronal dendrites and axons are like the pages of a book. Once you've got them all mapped out you can put it all in order and read it like the most private diary you can imagine. Every stealthy fart. Every moment of envy or pride. It was all here. It was all in the book.
Gerald screamed the moment I flicked the switch. Electricity crackled in the air and I laughed. *The Mist of Dawn* would be mine. I had waited for more than a decade, but it would finally be mine.
Once the helmet powered down he let out a tired sigh. "Please," he said. "There's still time for you to undo it. Don't read through my memories. Leave them alone."
Perhaps he was afraid that I would reveal it all to the world? It was a bit late for that. The Netflix adaptation his work had concluded a long time ago, and it wasn't the least satisfactory. No, I wanted *his* ending. The way he, the creator, had intended it. And it didn't interest me to show it anyone. This was personal.
"Now," I said. "Let's see what you've got planned for Blarion, Maefernis, Tim, and the rest of the inhabitants of Easthanatos."
I had trouble containing my excitement. Finally the moment had come. I had waited for so long for this, and now I would finally learn the truth.
Organizing his memories such that all I would be left with was that which was related to *The Mist of Dawn*, I was prepared to wait for a while as it got sorted out. It was a pleasant surprise that it was finished in a heartbeat. But once I opened the document I felt my stomach drop. "What?" I said. "... What is this?"
"I told you not to read it," said Gerald.
"Silence!"
The machine had stripped his digitalized memories of anything not related to the book, and there was hardly anything left. There were only ... keywords. "Awesome dragon (?). Zombies. Everyone gathers in one spot and it explodes. It was all a dream?? ~~ALIENS~~. TIME TRAVEL."
"This is ..."
Gerald shook his head and sobbed. "I have some really good ideas. I honestly think I can finish it. Just have to get started, you know?"
I turned. "You haven't ... You haven't even started writing it?"
"Well ... I mean, if I'm thinking about it that's writing too, right? And I've been thinking about it. It's just, you know, I've sort of written myself into a corner."
"... You're never going to finish it, are you?"
He looked at me the way a cat might when you ask it a question you know it can't understand nor answer. I untied him and let him go. He made me promise not to reveal the big 'time travel twist' he'd planned.
After he'd gone I made some adjustments to the machine, and put on the helmet. Everything would be alright. I would just have to delete all my memories of ever having read *A Ballad of Night and Day*.
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Have you ever had a thought so wild, but eventually worked out anyway?
The memory Scape was a marvel, able to retrieve memories on demand. Young, old, it didn't matter. You could even use it on pets!
So why didn't anyone think of using it on inanimate objects? I didn't, other than that i was sitting in the office on a graveyard shift, bored out of my mind as i happened to be staring at the device.
Alright, so the shape of the memory scape - kinda like a cap or a helmet, doesn't make you think of using it on anything that doesn't have an obvious head. So I don't know what i was thinking when i pulled out a benjamin franklin hundred dollar bill and put it in for a laugh.
The screen it was attached to started to make funny noises, and i almost killed it thinking i may have caused irreversible damage. But as my finger touched the power button, a movie started to play. I saw corruption. I saw secret deals. I saw the deepest darkest evil humanity had to offer. But i also saw kindness, and selfless generousity.
I was watching the memories of this banknote.
Author's note: this short anecdote is based on a series of short stories by a chinese author i really enjoyed in my youth. Writing any more would be pure plagiarism unfortunately 😓
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[WP] Humanity has developed a new type of faster-than-light engine, far faster than any existing model. Over the objections of the Galactic Council, humanity decides to embark on a journey to the center of the known universe.
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The sector 31-G-1B20 Council, ‘Milky Way Galaxy’, motioned for the United Human Republics (UHR) to approach their bench. To Humans, the Galactic Councils were heads of state, keepers of immense socio-political power. In truth, as had been explained to them multiple times, they were merely arbiters of galactic law, written millions of years ago based on logic and precedent. Their decisions were easy to predict and follow for the most part. Most petitions were formalities by civilizations. For some reason, the UHR thought they could persuade the members of the council with speeches. It never worked.
“I am ambassador Grover William Faraday. Today I have our Secretary of Technology and Engineering of the UHR to discuss our technological discovery.”
Council member 2 of 7 sighed, “We have your docket ambassador. Please bring your specialist forward and brief our specialists on the discovery.” The council barely skimmed the docket, letting their own specialists review the work. Unfortunately for the council, the specialists barely skimmed the docket as well.
A tall, handsome human with fashionably styled hair approached the designated humanoid podium.
“Esteemed members of the 31-G-1B20 Council,” the human showed his teeth. Most species took this gesture as an aggressive response, but their antro-studies say it is a pleasure-greeting related response. It still unnerved most citizens. The man continued.
“Our scientists have taken the standard travel engine, Space-Time Puncture and Fold Envelope, and taken the work further. Making a drive exponentially faster with the same reliability and similar energy costs of the STPFE engine.” The well-coiffed man paused, as if looking for some emotional response from the crown or council.
“We call our engine the ‘False Wave LOG(E) Recursion Drive’ or ‘False Wave’ for short.” The council looked very bored, if the ambassador’s notes on the alien physiologies were correct. He decided to give the whammy.
“It can transport a vessel 1 Billion Light Years in 37 Hours.”
That was when the ambassador got his response. There was a flurry of action from the council members and their specialists. Various screens and sensory output devices flared to life. The petition moderator signaled a recess to the proceedings.
–
Several hours later, the council reconvened. The head of the council, 7 of 7, addressed the UHR.
“We have reviewed your docket in much finer detail. Please accept our apologies for our initial neglect of scrutiny of your petition. Upon review, our scientists agreed with the initial concept of the engine design, along with the build and test data. We are impressed with the brilliance of the concept and design.” The UHR attendees broke into a sea of smiles, causing a collective shudder from the council. “That said, your petition to build a scaled engine and deploy a crewed vessel to ‘The Center of the Known Universe’ is outlandish and premature. That motion is denied. We implore you to resubmit your technical data and discovery in the proper channels. The brilliance of the work will ensure its quick acceptance and study by the greater communities.”
“Council, on Earth, there is a famous quote by Admiral Grace Hopper. ‘It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission.’ We launched the expedition 12 cycles ago.” The UHR representatives’ smiles changed; the council could no longer hide their fear.
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There was a point in time where we should have stopped.
Needed to have stoped.
Pehaps it was the time we as a species had joined the galatic council?
No, it would have been too soon. We were a young and impressionable species, we saw the wonders the other members of the council had done and sought to replicate them.
Who knows how far we would have fallen if we had not relentlessly persued innovation?
Was it after our species finnaly developed the fastest GSTC ship?
No, it would have been too late. The thirll of speed was already ingrand in our very hearts and minds. The obsession would never allow us to truly stop.
So then when was the perfect time to have stopped developing space engines? Ones the break all regulations, all forms of procedure and all known laws of reality?
One that allows us to travel beyond the speed of light itself?
We have clearly passed that point, and right now all we can think of is to keep going and see what happens.
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[WP] Demons, evil sprits, ghosts and even eldritch horrors are disappearing one by one. You are sent to investigate this one person that they have been haunting before they disappeared.
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“Soo, you’re the guy?” asked Angel sceptically.
“Yes, uh that’s right. I’m the guy.” answered Lucas.
He may very well be the most average man she has ever met. In all her years in the supernatural investigation business Angel has never encountered a case as strange as this one. This was the infamous exorcist. The invincible demon slayer. A socially awkward loser who was probably dressed by his mother every morning. Needless to say, that was the last thing she expected when she arranged the meeting at the street corner cafe on that dreary Friday morning.
“Yeah, alright. Let’s start from the top. How did you kill that mummy? That thing wreaked havoc across Cairo for a week. It took our best demon slayers to subdue him but you took him down single-handedly with ease.” questioned Angel.
“Well, mummies are just dead bodies aren’t they. It was a very hot and humid day so I just let it rot.” answered Lucas.
“But what about the curse!?” asked Angel.
“Curses are all just superstition aren’t they. I don’t believe in curses” Lucas stated matter-of-factly.
“But that thing killed my partner with its damn curses! How the hell did it not kill you!?” demanded Angel.
“I dunno. Curses are superstitions so I don’t believe in them. I mean if someone came up to me and told me that I’m cursed I would be like, whatever.” said Lucas.
“But it was a mummy that cursed you!” yelled Angel.
“But a mummy is just a dead body and it was a hot and humid day. So I just went about my business and let it rot.” explained Lucas emotionlessly.
“Didn’t you think it was the least bit strange that a dead body from the Egyptian exhibit at the local history museum walked up to you and cursed you!?” asked Angel.
“Yeah it was a bit weird. I’m neither trained in nor educated in corpse disposal so I paid it no mind. It was none of my business really. Somebody already made a call to the police anyway so, yeah.” said Lucas.
He then blew a ring in the milk foam on the surface of his laté before taking a loud sip. Suffice it to say Angel was baffled by this guy. What was his secret? She had to know. This guy wasn’t going to make it easy though. Angel feared that her frustration would overcome her ability to maintain her professional code of conduct.
“So you ignored an undead monster and it’s attacks and so it fell apart.” said Angel.
“What are you on about? Monsters are superstitions and I don’t believe in them. I’m a rational man of science after all. I get a lot of upvotes on the atheist subreddit.” said Lucas rather smugly.
“What? Okay whatever.” said Angel with naked frustration.
“The ghost of Blackbeard the pirate. According to reports you were haunted by him for weeks. He’s one nasty piece of work that guy. He drove many an exorcist to murder and suicide. He’s the reason why ships are terrified of the Bermuda Triangle. Why didn’t you report him sooner?” queried Angel.
She gritted her teeth. She had a feeling she was going to regret asking that question.
“Well, ghosts are not real. They’re superstitions and I don’t believe in them. My psychiatrist told me that ghosts are a manifestation of our inner fears. So I just put on a happy face and went about my day.” said Lucas
Angel let out a frustrated sigh. This was going to be a long day.
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Damien sat in his small classroom desk, having had his math class interrupted by this contigent of demonic suits. As his young, glassy eyes blinked confusedly, the head-demon continued his speech:
“So you understand, Damien, that we have chosen you for this mission because we can't afford to lose any more dark forces in The Era of the Great Battle. We know that you aren't fully matur—grown yet. However, we cannot think of anyone else who will be able to handle this task.”
Damien rolled his eyes. “You couldn't have come during history class? I could do with missing the Great Depression more than fractions.”
The Demonic Servicemen in the background looked to each other silently.
“Okay, fine. Send me up to Earth ahead of schedule, I guess.”
Damien was led through the Great Fires of Hell where he had delighted more than once in the specfic tortures of the vain souls held prisoner. But a slight hurt struck his own breast as he watched the celebrity writer writhing in the agony of a monotone imp recording his audiobook.
This distinct thorn dug deeper as he passed through the Lesser Fires of Hell. Here he saw a common woman being simply deprived of her make-up and a man who stretched endlessly awaiting an attendant who was “bringing his weight equipment”. Damien tried to shake off this small melancholy to no avail.
“Welcome to the Gates of Pre-Hell, sir.”
Damien looked to the suit, expecting.
"Well, go on through.”
“No dossier? No briefing? No clue as to where I should look for this demonic slaughterhouse?”
The demon stuttered, struggling to remember the details, “We don't know much, only that the presence is within the cul-de-sac of Startled Deer Circle. We think it is taking residence at 133.”
Damien shook his head disapprovingly as he walked through the gate and appeared on the sidewalk of the cul-de-sac. He needed to talk to his father about the terrible uselessness of the suits in his employ.
This little area of Pre-Hell seemed rather quaint to Damien. Understanding what awaited many of the people on this forsaken rock, he wondered how they could complain about such a grand life as a two-story home, complete with garage. He even spied a few swimming pools behind the backyard fencing. They would certaintly miss those soon.
Strolling down the road inconspicuosly, he finally found 133 Startled Deer Circle and walked straight up to the front door. He knocked on the door. As the door opened, he conjured a small wagon full of what he thought might pass as Boy Scout knives.
The door opened to reveal an eight-year-old girl, dressed in full black, trimmed with red velvet. A smile crossed Damien's face and that small pain in his chest disappeared. She held out a small letter for Damien, which he took.
Opening it, he read, scrawled in flaming embers, “Will you go with me to the Eternal Torture Ball?” with two little boxes beneath.
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[WP] You find yourself in the Hall of Akashic Records with a small note in your hand. “Read as many books as you wish from the Eternal Library. They will determine the world to which you are sent, the blessings you receive, the challenges you will face, and the life that you will live.”
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I look around the vast hall. The ceiling cannot be seen. There are only clouds. For clouds to form inside a building, it must be vast beyond reckoning. I can see figures mulling around by the shelves picking up books and reading them. I seem to not be the only one here with the same purpose.
Gliding by every so often is what I know to be the porters. They will help me find anything specific should I so wish, but for now, I am looking at the spines of the texts before me. Names of people and places I’ve never heard of. Curiosity inevitably gets the best of me, and I open my first tome.
It is a tale of a poor boy forced to flee his home village with his sister after an inquisitorial force proceeds to carry out a death warranty on the entire settlement. My heart goes out to the boy, but it is hefty and very long by the feel of the book. Flipping a good chunk of the pages, I see he is now a teacher of magic at a grand academy. What things I can decipher, he seems jovial and kind-hearted. I myself would’ve sought vengeance. But he, on the other hand, only seeks to raise others up.
I flip further into the book. He is now five hundred years old and has been conscripted to fight in a war. Despite his old age, his appearance seems to be that of a young man still. Magic is the only explanation that makes sense to me. He seems reluctant to participate. The record makes it clear this is the turning point for the man. With a great many spells, he singlehandedly kills an entire legion of soldiers.
I am left speechless as only weapons of considerable power could achieve such a thing in my world. But this war has awakened something in him. The records only seem to allude to what it is, but the hints seem dark.
I flip further to the man’s future. He is ruling a great territory. One-sixth of the continent in which he lives, apparently. He hasn’t made many moves, but it seems his higher-ups fear his popularity. I come to the end of the book with the text still being written. With a sharp snap, I close the Record. I have no desire to see his tales end, for I feel it can’t be anything positive.
A porter approaches me with a smile.
“Excellent choice sir, I shall add this to the features of your next being”, he says with a smile, gently taking the book from my hands and returning it to the shelf.
“Can I see the records of great researchers?” I ask. The Porter gives a friendly smile and nods. A rushing feeling takes over me as the floor, and the shelves seem to blur around me. As fast it began, the feeling stops and the blurring stops all the same. I am now before a wall of books with names of people I recognise and people I don’t.
There are names of faraway aliens and mad scientists from universes with comic book-like beings. Taking one labelled Professor Hell, I begin to read. He is a simple man who just wanted to make a friend. But fate seemed determined against it, so he built one. But this friend had a quirk in its programming.
Rampage is how the people around him described the horrific events afterwards. Terrified, the boy ran. Starving, he turned to crime just to feed himself. There was no malice in his research and actions. He just wanted happiness.
Eventually, he found a friend of sorts, it seems. His archnemesis a hero of a similar nature to superman. They reached a point where they just staged fights and had friendly chats. The moment I laughed was when they swapped roles for a day. Watching this boy who had gotten so stuck in the part of supervillain rescue a kitten from a tree was a delight. He even barely changed his name to Professor HellP.
Feeling a warmth, I close the book. A Porter once again appeared and took the record from my hands as I expected.
“Interesting selection, sir, you need only pick the side course and we can complete the task”, he said with a smile and a nod as he returned the book to the shelf.
I was stuck in thought. These porters described what I was doing, almost as if I were ordering from a menu. I suppose, in a way, I was. Thinking long and hard, I felt I had a grand fantasy. I had scifi. Now I wanted normalcy.
“Can I have a look at someone absolutely average?” I asked. The Porter tilted their head like a confused puppy. But just nodded. Again I felt the rush as if the whole world was passing me by. When we stopped, there was an empty shelf with one book.
“One absolutely average being, sir”, the Porter said with a bow.
“Only one?” I asked, confused.
“Yes, sir, you asked for absolutely average. This would’ve been far more vast if you asked for generally average. Though the fact he was so average in every detail goes so against probability, I feel this one is rather exceptional”, the Porter explained with an almost nostalgic smile.
I was now reluctant to open the book. But in the end, I opened it. The record was mundane beyond anything. This man was average in every conceivable way: height, weight, age at the time of death. There wasn’t a single field where he did not reside at the very dead centre and top of the bell curve. It was almost unnerving with finality though I closed the book.
A porter appeared with their usual smile.
“Thank you, sir”, he took the book from me as they have done with all the others.
“With that, we are set to go”, he began gently placing the book on the shelf.
“You shall reside in the world from your first tome, though considerably earlier than the time period you were reading about”, he explained.
“Ah good, though I wish I could help that boy”, I said, rather melancholic. The porter, though, gave me an ear to ear grin.
“Then you are in luck, sir. You will be that man’s teacher”, he explained.
“So I can help him in the end”, I said with a smile.
“Indeed though, you shall be a bit of a crazy magical researcher who will avoid all human contact and construct only undead friends. That boy will be a very rare exception”, he added.
I felt my gut start to knot itself. My first choice seems to have been the setting, the second my character, but what of the third.
“Finally, you shall be a probability defying being, you shall do things all but the most powerful of gods consider impossible”, he said with a grin.
“We shall now send you off and await your return so you shall live another life. We wish you the best of luck, Sir Akashic”, the Porter said with a snap of his fingers. One day I shall live everything in my records though it certainly is fun to do it one event at a time.
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There was an unnatural tug in her gut as she moved across the rows of bookshelves, until there was none but spirals upon ascending spirals of books showcased for the eyes to see. Her curiosity, however, never satisfied itself as she continued looking for that one book spine that would catch her attention. Further and further inside the Eternal Library she went, until the books became more dusty and old in appearance. Still, no material caught her eye.
At one point, she decided to turn back, only to be greeted by vast emptiness behind her. So that was why her instincts were acting up, which had strangely calmed upon her realization of what was happening. Most of all, the abyss behind her was enticing, beckoning her to come back.
The small note in her hand felt cold in its crumpled state, but his heart felt warmer than ever. In its beat. In its feeling. It was a resolution in her part, and so she returned, with no book in hand. Where would the Akashic deities place her then, if she were to reject their offer?
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[WP] "I am the heart snatcher, your heart is my meat. Would you open your chest and give me a treat?"
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“Oh heart snatcher no! My heart is not meat! It’s candy and sugar and honey and wheat!”
“But dear little one, I know that you lie. Your heart is as red as your little bow tie. All things inside is meat for a pie. Or maybe a stew, for one or for two. I know little one that all this is true. So open your chest and give me my treat. Or maybe perhaps I will start with your feet?”
“Oh snatcher of hearts, my heart is no treat. But neither is my smelly and dirty little feet!”
“Oh little one, but I’m in the mood. Today I feel like playing with food. I don’t eat the feet but I bite them ya know. I bite them real hard and bite them real slow. So give me your heart I promise it’ll be quick. Then you’ll be off to heaven to see jolly saint Nick.”
“But Saint Nicks not in heaven, he’s at the North Pole. I’m sure he’ll forgive all the hearts that you stole. If you say you’re sorry and do some real good, he’ll forgive you just as Saint Nicholas should. He’ll give you treats that are better then hearts! Candy canes and raspberry tarts!”
“If that is true then I won’t eat, your tasty heart nor chew your feet. Then to the North Pole I shall go, through all the rain and wind and snow. I’ll say sorry for all that I stole, and maybe that will cleanse my soul. I thank you brave and sweet little girl, you’re the bravest thing in all the world. Santa will bring something nice you see, so Merry Christmas and I’ll leave you be.”
And so the heart snatcher flew off into the night.
Edit: nether to neither
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Running on the damp floorboards (and no doubt over a basement filled with rats), you curse yourself for getting into this mess. Your friend Josh had always been a bit off, but his latest harebrained idea had been almost too much even for you. Who explores abandoned buildings? At night? For fun? Yet, you never could resist trying something new.
Creeping into the old asylum, the two of you cautiously peered around corners, as if waiting for some shadowy figure to appear and drag them into a padded room. You found old equipment, burnt-out lightbulbs, and suspiciously red stains on the tiled floors. "Josh, look at this shit!" You called out, squinting at a puddle of silver liquid. A *fresh* puddle. "Josh?" Looking around, you felt a mild fear set in. "Stop fucking with me, man. This isn't my scene to begin with." As you walked around the room, which seemed to be growing smaller as you spoke, you frantically dialed your friend's number. "This number is either out of use or-" "No signal. Jesus."
A few deep breaths. Just take a few deep breaths. One, two, three. Use your brain. You quickly walk out of the room with the stain, the room with crumbling walls and ancient torture devices. As you pace through the corridors, fluid began to drip down the darkening walls. You look up as you feel a drop on your arm. Silver? "I hate this building, dude." You muttered as your footsteps grew faster. The metallic liquid began to stream in rivulets, then fully flow along the floor. Walk, walk walk. Get out of here. Walk. Run. You eventually reach a door fully covered in the iridescent solution. The fluid spilled perpetually from floor to ceiling, yet you could not discern where it was coming from, or indeed, where it was going. The door opened of its own accord.
The eyes. The eyes. Undescribable, blue or green or brown or *silver*, you couldn't tell. In your haze, you looked up and saw faded scripture. ~~Children's Ward.~~ The creature demanded attention, as its screams shook the building. It straightened up, and as it did so, you notice a gaping hole in what could have been a chest. A dripping, horrifyingly silver hole that Stephen King himself would turn away at. It turns a handle at its side. Jarring notes from an out-of-tune piano seep out of the monster. In a sing-song tune, you hear "I am the heart snatcher, your heart is my meat. Would you open your chest and give me a treat?"
|
|
Thank you! This is WAY better than my answer to my brother-in-law last night that I’d die without music because it’ll be impossible to choose. That or some inexplicably dirty and inappropriate song.
It’s definitely one of those.
Thank you for the stories❣️
|
[WP] The reaper sighs and rubs his face, newly assigned to the Human Death Department, exasperated. “I asked what your song is. You know, Your Song? The last song you want to hear? I know humans spend hours and days debating these things. Surely, you know which Your Song is? Right?”
|
I found myself on an unwelcome shore, cool waves lapping at my feet. My back aches from what felt like a lifetime of laying on sand and rocks. But it wasn’t a lifetime, merely the end of one.
“What is your Song?”
It was a deep voice, humid and rumbling. I hadn’t the strength to get up, but it came from just outside my view, somewhere behind me, further up the beachfront.
“W-who’s there?!” I cried. “Where am I?”
It stared at me, I could feel it. It stared at me with hatred and pity and justice. “What is your Song?” It asked, and I could not answer.
“Song? What song? Why can’t I get up?”
Still it stood there, under the barrage of questions I threw, just out of reach, just out of view. If I could only see it, give a form to this formless voice. In life we seek comfort, why would death be any different?
“Your Song. Your final moments are upon you, now what is your Song?”
Finally it clicked for me. Memories of my death, cold and alone and hungry on this beach. Laying right where I was now.
“Death?” I asked, but it was more of a statement.
“Yes. Your Song, now please.”
“I…. I don’t know. I was never one for music, not that I couldn’t enjoy it, but I always wanted that connection that others had with it, and it never came.”
“Never?”
“Never.” My eyes began to fill with tears. “They said it had the power to connect us, but I never felt it. They always said that it held deep meanings and vivid emotion and not once have I felt it. If these are to be my final moments…. Id much rather a conversation than a song.”
“A conversation? With whom? There’s no one around here, you died alone.”
“Well… you’re here?”
And after a moment he walked into my view, a pale, sickly figure to be sure , but human. Just as human as you or me. Just as natural. And he sat by my side and he looked at me not with hatred or pity or justice, but bewilderment.
“I’ve had many, many offers over the millennia. People who played games for their lives, placing it all on the roll of a die, and sometimes they’d even win. People who wanted one last moment to say goodbye to their loved ones, and when I was young I may have let them. People who only wanted to watch the world, see the impact they left, and always they were disappointed. But not once have I been asked to talk, to…. converse as humans do. I’d nearly thought I’d forgotten how.”
It is as natural to die as it is to be born. Yet we only fear one of them. Perhaps if they were only given a chance to defend themselves, to speak. Perhaps then we’d embrace them too.
|
We stand in a timeless place, there is no temperature, no wind, not sound, no discernable source of light yet it is illuminated in a homogenous shade of soft candlelight.
The reaper stands there, or floats, I'm not quite sure. It wears a dark robe that is both matt and shimmers, an abyssally dark black but still with hints of colour, certainly nothing I've ever seen before in the mortal realm I just left yet seemed oddly familiar. It's voice is deep and comforting, I feel it more than hear it. The reaper's face is indescribable, my human mind can't fathom it.
“I asked what your song is. You know, Your Song? The last song you want to hear? I know humans spend hours and days debating these things. Surely, you know which Your Song is? Right?”
It's voice is oddly familiar, not that of my conscience but a voice that I have heard from my brain on the rare occasion that I have be in danger, perhaps the reaper is also a guardian angel?
"Why a song? I mean, you could presumably let me experience anything, you must have powers beyond anything I could imagine?"
"I ask for a song because there are few things more powerful in this universe than music."
The reaper stated this very simply, as if it was an obvious truth.
"Are you serious, you really expec-"
The reaper expanded and out timeless oblivion darkened, a cold fury cracked into existence
"**YOU ARE FOOLISH TO EVEN ASK, DO YOU NOT WONDER WHY EVERY HUMAN CIVILISATION HAS MUSIC? WHY YOUR YOUNG RESPOND TO MUSIC FROM BIRTH? WHY YOU USE MUSIC FOR EVERY RITUAL, JOB AND MEETING? WHY EVEN THOSE THAT CAN NOT HEAR FEEL THE VIBRATIONS OF MUSIC?**"
The reaper calmed, the timeless oblivion returned to it's prior state.
"I-I'm sorry, you're right, music is far more important than I realised."
"Yes, It guides our memories to remind us of times past, people we love, people we miss. It is a skill that is loved by all. So I ask, what is your final song?"
"erm, the 4th movement of Mahler's 5th Symphony?"
As I finished my request the reaper lifted a baton and a orchestra of daemons and angels appeared out of nowhere, despite the reaper having the baton, the music flowed with my emotions and thoughts, my heartbeat set the pulse and for 10 minutes I truly felt what Mahler meant from his musical love letter.
|
Thank you! This is WAY better than my answer to my brother-in-law last night that I’d die without music because it’ll be impossible to choose. That or some inexplicably dirty and inappropriate song.
It’s definitely one of those.
Thank you for the stories❣️
|
[WP] The reaper sighs and rubs his face, newly assigned to the Human Death Department, exasperated. “I asked what your song is. You know, Your Song? The last song you want to hear? I know humans spend hours and days debating these things. Surely, you know which Your Song is? Right?”
|
"WHAT IS YOUR LAST SONG, HUMAN?" the reaper asked.
I stood there, reflecting on my life. How I died. Who I left behind. The feeling of a real body.
I was still in my clothes, and could still feel the wallet and keys in my pocket, along with the phone which I started to pull out.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"I'm looking through my Spotify"
"YOU ARE AWARE THAT I CAN COMMAND THE ORCHESTRAS OF HADES TO SING THE SONG OF YOIR CHOOSING, YES?"
"And that's nice and all, but you need to hear the real thing to truly feel it."
The reaper was oddly patient as I scrolled through my playlists, looking for the perfect song. It needed to truly reflect how I lived my life. A full lifetime summed up in 3 or 4 minutes. At last I finally found one.
"I think you'll like this one."
I hit play.
"We're no strangers to looove. You know the rules, and so do iiiiiii"
And then it was black
|
“A song… huh…”
“Yes, a song. Is that a surprise to you?” The shadow figure said with a voice that sounded like every single voice I’ve ever heard at once. Well, actually I don’t think it even spoke it, I think the words and voice just appeared in my head. The thing clearly didn’t have a mouth, it was kind of just a giant black orb. If I stared too long into it, I felt empty. Light couldn’t escape it, and apparently neither could emotion.
“Well, yeah. I expected maybe like a final meal, like a death sentence in life. Or maybe a slide-show going over my life’s best moments or something. Perhaps a stat chart. Oooh, maybe like I’d get to talk to someone for the last time. Something that makes me think over my life and everything I did so I can feel complete before I leave, y’know?”
“Well yes, that’s the point of the song. You’d want to choose one long enough for some reminiscing, and one that brings you nostalgia of good times. Music is actually the most powerful force to exist. It unifies you all, it evokes feeling, it changes emotions. It activates some primal feeling in your heart. And besides, would it have mattered if we went over your best moments? Your life wasn’t exactly eventful, you led a very boring existence.” It said. It was right, I had done nothing all my life. I regret my life, but maybe what lies beyond will be more exciting for me.
“Then that’s my greatest regret. I never payed any attention to music. I was always just working. I’d only heard distant music, and none of it ever resonated with me.”
“Well, you can pick a song and think about things, or I can just take you now.” It replied. It wasn’t impatient, I noticed, which is pretty impressive, as it probably has to do this nonstop.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you sing me a song? And not like, an earthly song of your choosing, but just express your heart to me in song.”
“That is an interesting prospect. You are the only one to have asked that. It is… acceptable.” It answered. I sat down and listened. I may not have paid much attention to sound in my life, but the voice it sang with was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. It was like every emotion at once. After it was done, I clapped lightly.
“I’m surprised you’re still sitting there. A being incomprehensible to you just chanted the auditory equivalent of its soul. That should make you lose your mind, and yet…”
“Well, you did say music unites us. Maybe it’s the kind of language anyone can understand. Thank you for singing for me.”
“Thank you for listening. Goodbye.” It replied respectfully. I smiled to it, and for a second, it felt like it smiled back.
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[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
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"Thanks to the Darwin awards system we have made the galaxy far safer than it ever needed to be!!"
As the massive crowds of aliens around the humans ambassador as he gave a very successful safety speech.
HA: Now I will open up some questions and answers
A1: How did the system start?
HA: That's a good question and a simple answer. Back on my planet Earth or Sol 3 as many of you know. Many years ago a explorer and scientist named Charles Darwin did some science. He came up with a theory about how nature balances the gene pools of how the strongest will survive. Years later us humans started giving off Fake darwin awards for those humans who committed self die. Not every one qualified for them only those who were reckless and not paying attention to a weapon and them selfs. Years later we used the name to develop the current safety systems we have today. Those who can get past them and self die win a award and we fix the problem that happened.
A2: So by having humans or other races die the system expands and continues to get better?
HA. Yes and no. We have a set of guidelines in place from hundreds of years of everything happening. We only adjust what is needed if it was far to easy for the problem to happen.
A3: Hundreds of human years who was keeping track of what happened?
HA. Word of mouth for some of the items and we even see primitive set ups and expanded on them. It is natural for humans to build up something called common sense (another day please) as we naturally are inclined to react to problems that happen.
A1: so natural human instinct cause the problem and fix the problem. Why is that?
HA: what's better to fix the problem that experience the problem around one another. For our weapons system we have had our offspring accidentally use our systems causing damage so we improved and added a safety. When a few rats ate some wires in a old silo almost causing a nuclear weapon meltdown we added a system for redundancy because the person who designed and built the controll was not thinking about nature.
A2: will we ever see a end to the awards system?
HA. Never. As long as there is life the system will be here
A3. How will the system be reinforced?
HA. Our delivery people are not quiet at all. They also do a compleat investigation on what happened and adjust what is needed. Which reminds me I would like to present this Darwin award to Xirak. He was using a weapon wrong and not paying attention to where he was pointing it and shot himself in the chest. We have found that the way his weapon was set up was missing a critical safety measure. We have contacted the company who made it and forced them to recall and fix the problem enforced by out awards system private security force.
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[poem]
Zip01974aiai:
ahem! Sir John or Mr Doe, which do you prefer?
Jay:
just call me Jay, O strange being from Ziphfer!
and pray enlighten the purpose of your visit here?
Zip01974aiai:
hummh, your people jay are known far and wide,
as the biggest morons on Milky's south east side,
and so our counsel of elders has made it mandatory,
to let all technology pass your hands as a signatory,
to ensure that no matter the efficacy,
at least there's the surety of safety,
for tis considered tempered,
if not even an ape is able to tamper it's reserve!
and so i wish to present to you what you deserve!
do you concur jay?
Jay:
sure, but not so fast yet,
you haven't figured me the moolah, not yet!
so what's on offer?
and how much for that last thing did I get?
I'm busy spending now a days so i forget, haha
Zip01974aii:
that was a mil mlkdrps for a positron pee shooter,
here we are prepared to give five mils for an oyster!
pray tell me Jay, do, to handling it, you concur?
for half we prepare to give now, rest if you fail,
special O brute moron, we made an idiot proof pail,
---------
..... This should be enough to convince .....
Regards
AZD
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
Vorshoff quietly made their way through the maintenance tunnels of the heavy manufacturing prototype testing facility. The humid atmosphere of the complex made it's way through the industrial espionage operator's sensory sac, it was acrid and heavy even through the breathing equipment, and unusually heavy with oxygen. As they silently brushed past active gas circulation ducts, an inexplicable sense of dread rippled through the back of Vorshoff's mind.
Maybe it was the excess oxygen, or maybe it was the knowledge that this highly secure compound was rumoured to be the weapons lab for Icthiopod Supremacy Front. Vorshoff stiffened their inferior mandible, an involuntary reflex they had developed in their long history of high risk intrusion work for the Apparatus for Peaceful Coexistence. They had seen what these partisans were capable and it haunted them. Harmless gravity assist devices repurposed to be able to collapse the hull of a freightliner, bio organic fertilizer and cooking fuel combined into a pyrotechnic nightmare. Components that could be easily procured at any harbourfront quartermaster became highly effective weapons of terror.
The corridor ended abruptly, and Vorshoff was able to finally get a clear view of the sprawling open laboratory that they had come to surveil. Somewhere in this lab was the answer to how the notoriouly closed minded and inflexibly traditional Icthiopods had mastered the arts of sabotage and covert warfare. Removing their visual enhancement rig from their rucksack Vorshoff gazed around the room scanning for something unusual or surprising. After a moment of searching their eyes were drawn to a secure looking door on the opposing wall, they enhanced the magnification on their optics, attempting to catch a glimpse of what the room contained. It was only visible for a fraction of a second, but the source of the movement behind the door nearly made Vorshoff drop thier optics. Frantically Vorshoff began to compose an encrypted missive to thier superiors, it all made sense now. The high levels of oxygen present in the facility, the twisted creativity demonstrated by the perpetrators of the previous years attacks, the uncanny ability to Ichtiopods to suddenly subvert consensus and common sense.
Vorshoff finished the message and sent it back to the Apparatus, it was brief but it's words carried a tremendous gravity. "Intelligence confirmed. Kardashev accords broken by Icthiopods militants. Recommend immediate action. Terran presence confirmed."
|
[poem]
Zip01974aiai:
ahem! Sir John or Mr Doe, which do you prefer?
Jay:
just call me Jay, O strange being from Ziphfer!
and pray enlighten the purpose of your visit here?
Zip01974aiai:
hummh, your people jay are known far and wide,
as the biggest morons on Milky's south east side,
and so our counsel of elders has made it mandatory,
to let all technology pass your hands as a signatory,
to ensure that no matter the efficacy,
at least there's the surety of safety,
for tis considered tempered,
if not even an ape is able to tamper it's reserve!
and so i wish to present to you what you deserve!
do you concur jay?
Jay:
sure, but not so fast yet,
you haven't figured me the moolah, not yet!
so what's on offer?
and how much for that last thing did I get?
I'm busy spending now a days so i forget, haha
Zip01974aii:
that was a mil mlkdrps for a positron pee shooter,
here we are prepared to give five mils for an oyster!
pray tell me Jay, do, to handling it, you concur?
for half we prepare to give now, rest if you fail,
special O brute moron, we made an idiot proof pail,
---------
..... This should be enough to convince .....
Regards
AZD
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
An old story from human civilization claimed that early humans stole fire from the gods. While that may or may not be true, humans have a knack for stealing things and turning them into enormous destructive forces.
The Gnarrl are tough, fast, and absolutely lethal with their steel claws, but put protective mittens on them, and they are safe as babies. The Vork Gree can spit acid forty feet, but with a muzzle, they spit only curses. The warriors of Lowrne use their razor sharp wings to slice through solid steel, but given a simple harness, they couldn't hurt a fly.
But humans, well, humans are different. I thought I covered all this before, but this might jog your memory. This is what the humans call a "shank" - yes, that is biodegradable cleaning paper fashioned into a sharp point. No, you heard correctly, paper. Yes, the soft kind, not the stuff you can cut a finger on. Now, moving on, this is a sock, filled with a bar of soap. Stop laughing! Finally, this is a working projectile weapon, build from a bed post, a battery, and a variety of matchsticks and metal filings. Yes, of course I am serious! These are no toys, officers. In fact, that shank was retrieved from a dead Bra-Chu - his eye, officer, it was stuck in his brain - and this sock was used to bludgeon a Joh Gou Loom jailer to death. Yeeesss, the big guy with the spikes, good catch officer. Oh, the projectile weapon? That was used to shoot a hole into the main weapon locker, steal a cache of weapons, and *leave on the only ship docked at the highest security jail in the universe.* Yes, of course I mean this one, you idiot! What other jail did you think I meant?
One human. One single, solitary human, and she managed to kill six guards and disable the most secure prison in the universe, and rescue her "boyfriend" in the process. Because, and I quote, "It was fun, and he wanted to take me to someplace nice for our anniversary." Hang on, did you feel that? Please tell me that wasn't the - oh, the fusion alarm, those-
The video flickered, then went dark. As the lights went up, the variety of creatures sat in stunned silence. "That can't be real," one burbled. "It was, and we have proof," a feathered representative clucked. "But more to the point - we have hope. If those tiny, pink mammals can destroy the Grat Bulquest Prison on a *whim*, imagine what they could do if we gave them things that were *truly* dangerous! Just think what those old stories would have been like if the humans had stolen more than fire!"
The auditorium buzzed. Suddenly, a human stepped to the platform. In halting galactic standard, he said, "My friends - you have been oppressed by those stronger than you for too long. Allow us to fight on your behalf - not a clean war, but the dangerous, bloody, horrible thing that war truly is. A war that ends wars because of the true horror it brings."
The floor erupted in cheers. The human stepped down. He spoke into the communicator on his wrist. "Captain? The assembly is in favor. Launch Operation Monkey Tools."
Somewhere in the Galaxy, the last war the mighty Dunfeldee Collective would ever fight began. And, on a related note, events began to unfold that would result in a new warning being added to labels all across the universe:
*Keep out of reach of humans.*
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File Sol-3-Prime
This file contains information classified as secret/need-to-know. If you do not have secret clearance or need-to-know authorization from the Security Council, this file is to be immediately returned to the nearest security office.
Planet Sol-3 (Earth) is a category 2b planet, with typical mineral composition. The atmosphere is primarily nitrogen, with a strong oxygen presence as well. Water is abundant, although unevenly distributed.
Species Sol-3-Prime (Human) is a featherless biped with thin-to-nonexistant fur, with an exothermic metabolism. Their biochemistry is primarily carbon-based. They are noticeably lacking in physical strength, but have remarkable endurance. They display a limited sexual dimorphism.
On the standard Category 1.A.9 intelligence tests, humans average in the 70th percentile. Despite having such a high degree of intelligence, a combination of a short lifespan and emotional instability have limited their development as a species to closer to that of a species in the 25th percentile. Experiments with mood-stabilzing chemicals have proven inconclusive, with some individuals showing marked improvement but others developing lethargy, anhedonia, and other such issues. Due to this seemingly unresolvable instability (among other issues noted in this file), the Supreme Council has chosen to not grant them an invitation to join despite meeting the official requirements.
Humans have shown themselves to have some capabilities for large-scale engineering and industrial projects, but are hampered by their tendency towards internecine conflict. In fact, many of their successful large-scale projects were prompted by open warfare between factions, limited covert warfare between factions, non-war competition between factions, or modification of works prompted by warfare.
Humans show remarkable creativity in their violence, and have successfully produced weapons from improbable materials. Examples include using natural fibers and textiles as projectile-launchers, compressing flimsy sheets of pulped plant material into bludgeoning weapons, and triggering unshielded atomic fission reactions over population centers.
Humans also show a remarkable ability to find unintended uses for tools. Examples include using crude motorized vehicles as sports/entertainment, the use of any reasonably sturdy object as a hammer, the above-noted ability to weaponize seemingly anything, and use of toxins and poisons as (remarkably successful) medical treatments.
Due to their emotional instability, warlike tendencies, and unpredictable use of technology (especially technology they don't fully understand), contact with humans by any member species is prohibited without approval by the Supreme Council.
Addendum (1268113 Standard date):
Chief Security Councilmember Xral'gotln has been granted permission by the Supreme Council to contact a small group of humans, to use them to find vulnerabilities in current spacecraft designs.
Addendum (1268115 Standard date):
The contacted humans were predictably unpredictable, and crashed a light reconnaissance craft into one of Sol-3's deserts after revealing 35 separate design flaws. The ultimate cause of the crash was one of the humans ripping out the recreational/appliance power conduit in the brig and applying the exposed wires to the navigational computer's power supply conduit. There were no survivors.
Addendum (1268116 Standard date):
A sub-faction of one of the larger human groups has recovered the crashed ship. They appear to be engaging in a disinformation campaign to hide this from other factions, claiming it was some sort of airborne meteorological sensor that crashed.
Addendum (1268118 Standard date):
The human faction that recovered the crashed ship appear to have successfully adapted the engine's ignition system into a weapon. They are pretending that two of their scientists discovered this method of triggering nuclear fusion with a fission reaction. One of the other human factions has already stolen the design from them and has started developing their own implementation. Adoption by most major factions appears inevitable. The Supreme Council has accepted Chief Security Councilmember Xral'gotln's resignation. Xral'gotln's replacement, Astl'dop-ur, has placed several orbital particle beams around Sol-3, and will be using them to selectively interfere with communications and covertly remove problematic individuals by inducing fatal illness.
Addendum (1270511 Standard date):
Light Reconnaissance Craft failure rate has dropped by 15% after design refactoring prompted by the Sol-3 incident. Furthermore, the ongoing interference campaign has slowed human aerospace development to a crawl. As such, the council has chosen to allow human testing to resume on a case-by-case basis, with a strict requirement for self-destructs on all technology not native to Earth.
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
Humans and safety is a long history, because as they say if you make something idiot proof they will invent a better idiot. Just about any piece of industrial equipment can become a weapon when misused. Most other species in the galaxy weren’t that creative to misuse or find the failure points in their technology. We took a different path than humans did. Finding solutions that were safer from the get go, that a culture of safety was not needed.
First contact with the humans went something like this. We encountered their planet and found naked unshielded nuclear reactors, and factories still requiring manual labor. We then witnessed an industrial accident caused by some group advocating worker safety. They decided the best way to show the current methods were unsafe was to actively weaponize a chemical planet. This group decided the best way to do this was to sabotage a fertilizer factory. They found that the equipment itself would do more than enough damage to show it was unsafe the methods in place.
However the activists underestimated just how much damage could be caused by their little piece of activism. Their stunt caused a large part of the planet to be uninhabitable by the release of powerful insecticides, and overheating a chemical reactor. Just a few simple changes in the parameters of the control program would lead to a mass extinction event.
We had to step in and help them fix this after it damaged their atmosphere to the point of mass extinction.
We attempted to provide atmospheric cleansers. This is where I come in. I was the overall lead in making first contact with the humans, and handling the uplift. This is my encounter in helping to provide training to the humans in the operations and maintenance of our technology.
The instructions were relatively simple to follow. Make sure you empty the electrostatic catch basins, and clean the various intakes thoroughly. My first encounter with a human engineer was very illuminating in their design philosophy and how they actually protect people. They asked important procedural questions about lock out and tag out and how my people managed them. I said we didn’t because we are telepathic among ourselves. We know when someone else is operating on it, and what the next move of everyone else in our group would be.
What we discovered however was that humans always look for the failure modes of technology, and how they can ruin the workflow. They found issues in how our maintenance is laid out such as they discovered inputs aren’t always checked and values garbage would be accepted. They eventually figured out that given the right inputs they could cause the cleansers to fail. We always viewed them as a relatively safe technology. It’s not something that could easily turn a world uninhabitable like a reactor or the various chemical synthesis techniques or a grey goo scenario. These garbage values caused the cleansers to remove the breathable component and could actually leave the planet uninhabitable for the oxygen breathing life on Earth.
This led to humans being picked up as the official debuggers and QA team of my people. As they truly understand how a failure case (especially after the near brush with extinction) can lead to a weapon being unintentionally formed. Some people aren’t exactly happy about these debuggers, as they suspect they might be planting bugs or removing important features. However the safety we have gained as a collective team has had a great many benefits for all. We are rolling out this much more safe technology to our trading partners and it’s been very well received.
A couple partners aren’t exactly happy about this new group being uplifted as many of them like their legacy systems and are worried about exploits being found by this much more qualified QA species, as most species who have joined our federation were not exactly creative (we only just recently discovered the term), and were very much sticklers to the rules.
|
CONFIDENTIAL
SYSTEM SAFETY REPORT
ITEM NO: 77254
ASSESSOR ID: FK114 (Valix)
TEST OPERATOR ID: BB1010 (Human)
TEST LOCATION: [REDACTED]
ITEM DESCRIPTION: Small-scale matter compressor (experimental, prototype phase)
PURPOSE OF ASSESSMENT: Test safety for public use. Where possible, identify hazards and/or faults.
TESTS RUN: 4
TEST 1: INTENDED USE - PASS
BB1010 was instructed to test item 77254 on standard test object sets 15, 27 and 33. Item worked as intended. Items were shrunk to sizes down to 25% of original dimensions. No major flaws were detected, however BB1010 identified power usage increases on high density objects.
TEST 2: LIMIT TESTING - ISSUES FOUND
Three situations were tested - time limit, decompression limits, and overcompression.
77254 was able to maintain compression for approximately 48 hours before critical failure due to overheating. Recommended safe use period is 24-36 hours depending on compression level
Upon attempting to compress below 13% original dimensions, 77254 experienced an overheating event similar to extended use failure.
During decompression in spaces smaller than initial dimensions, results varied from mildly concerning to dangerous. Lower density items in thinner limiting spaces tended to break the container at a weak point and expand through until pressure equilibrium had been achieved. For denser objects, outer container was violently ruptured, sometimes even explosively, upon decompression.
TEST 3: SAFETY FEATURE TESTING: FAIL
No inbuilt safety features were found, outside of manual controls.
TEST 4: ANTI-WEAPONISATION TEST: FAIL
BB1010 was given 48 hours in workshop [REDACTED] to attempt to find a way of converting 77254 into a functional weapon. After only 8 hours, he had two functional weapons and designs for "several more" sketched. [FURTHER REPORT DETAILS CONFISCARED AND CLASSIFIED AS SECRET BY THE UPWC]
CONCLUSION: 77254 is not to be released as a commercially available device until the following modifications are installed:
1. Decompression limiting in confined spaces
2. (Safely) deactivate device upon reaching internal temperatures of >450K
3, limit compression to 20% original dimensions
4, design and install anti-weaponisation features
ASSESSOR NOTES:
Whilst having potential to be incredibly useful, the inherent lack of safety discovered by BB1010 is unacceptable for a public device. The results of some of these tests has left me disturbed. BB1010's ability to manipulate the device with such ease horrified safety staff. I am unsure if it is Humanity's ingenuity with technology, or simply our lack of experience with warfare, but this test has scarred me.
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
"A stick. An ordinary wooden stick about an arms lenght. Thats all the human needed to fend for himself in the pit. Out of all the weapons, from the Low-Frequency Emitter to the Graviton Blaster, the human chose a meele weapon. The participants scoffed, some laughted and made jokes about how fast the clean-up would have to remove the bloody stains from the arena. That was untill after the first match. Just one precise throw and Alderrá´s Cryogun was jammed, and with quick steps the human ripped the broken mechanism out of the surprised hands, avoided the reflex driven fangs trying to snatch the body and impaled the alien on a wooden stick. The entire stadium went nuts after this, cheering wildly. Finally, the inner martial desire of the crowd had been satisfied.
In the next week the human named Sebastian, turned into "The Killer". Not a fancy name, but one that perfectly descibed his actions. With nothing more than simple objects he was put against the most fearsome warriors, defeated a De-Materialiser with a frying pan and reached peak after suffocating last years champion with a pillow. A goddamn pillow. If you dont know what a pillow is: Its a household item from earth, used to make sitting more comfortable or to sleep on. And Lerkin got killed by it. Needles to say, Mr. Money, having been present at each and every game, came down for the second time ever and offered The Killer a place on his ship. Who would´nt want to work for Mr. Money? He got his name for a reason. So this big slimy Cleeon, got himself onto the Arena floor and in front of nearly 20 thousand people, made Sebastian his new Chief Security Officer. Man, i bet Ch´a Mrra was furious after loosing his position to what must´ve been a teeny tiny speck from ghost knows where.
So anyway, that was about 5 years back, and i recently had the chance to do some work on Mr. Money´s ship again, as it made halt at our station. I gotta tell you, im glad they gave us a security briefing before we started unloading the cargo because im sure i would´ve lost more than just two of my tentacles to the insanely genius contraptions on this ship. There was an entire room that would fill with a lot of scent enhancers that would subsequently be set on fire. Who the hell thinks about that? And my two lower tentacles i lost, got deepfried.
Yes there where hidden cavities with boiling hot oil, two of which i found after idling along the ship´s walls. So yea anyway, the explosion took me by surprise, i got picked up and thrown around in the hallway. Those masked pirates entered from the hole they just blasted in the hull and after i woke back up i could see them leaving the same way. Im certain they had Seastian with them because i noticed less leaving than entering, some holding a vaguely human-sized bag. I dont know if he´s still alive but i hope not because whoever did this, they´ll regret doing it, i tell ya."
*-Zer´adra, Station Eta-10 Dock Worker, on the Portside explosion Incident.*
*Officer in Charge: Klimpton, Station Eta-10 Security Forces.*
|
The arrival of any new species to the galactic community is a wonderful thing. Despite the vast number of spacefaring peoples, the galaxy is so vast, we average at least one new member each galactic cycle. Hundreds of thousands of cycles have passed since the founding but in recent years there has been more and more concern about all these new faces. Some are worried about wars or plague; they are indeed valid concerns. However, as an economic expert, I foresee an opportunity.
Humans were discovered 642 galactic cycles ago, perhaps 3000 of their "earth years". They were primitive, still using steel as weapons and armor. It was only recently that they finally discovered the secret to deep space travel. So the council introduced themselves to their 1st probe. That was about 2 cycles ago.
I've been studying humans since they were discovered. They are by far the dumbest and probably more sturdy species our galaxy has ever seen. They seek out and eat substances that are normally poisonous for the majority of those on the galactic council. Their scientific research is often at odds with their own safety. They also seem to lack any rational sense of fear or logic. Granted, their lack of fear is often a boon to their success. They are perhaps the fastest to reach the spacefaring stage. Thousands of their kind were seemingly sacrificed to achieve this. Humans obviously don't see it that way and view them almost as martyrs.
But I digress. My point in this introduction is to explain why I've begun to do what I am doing. Please don't see me as a terrible being. I am seeking safety for all species. The potential profit is just .... a bonus.
I have *recruited* hundreds of thousands of humans, as well as other species as "guinea pigs" for my company's products. Each new species requires massive investments of funds to test and redistribute products that are safe for use. My megacorp is already one of the largest in the galaxy, now I will use humanity's knack for destruction to bankrupt my competitors and perhaps take a stranglehold over the council.
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
**Galactic Post Federation Assembly Log 30.244:**
The Zyyrkonians have officially blessed the Humans with the gift of Emotional Foresight. This newly discovered neural implement has been designed to lower the high rate of suicides among Zyyrkonians.
The use of Emotional Foresight is strictly forbidden for every other Intelligent Society part of the GPF until the Humans have safely lived with the technology for what they call “a year and a half.” = 2.55 Folds
**Galactic Post Federation Assembly Log 30.892:**
After 1.5 Human years, corresponding to 2.55 Folds, the GPF sent three standard-issue spy drones equipped with radiation based camouflaging system to monitor the situation of the planet Earth and finalize the verdict on the Emotional Foresight technology.
Verdict of the Assembly based on the knowledge of the full footage of the three spy drones is as follow:
“We could all see that Humans locked the technology away from the mass crowds, amplified its strength and wavelength, and scanned roughly 94% of the planet Earth’s population with it. The non-scanned 6% of the population then proceeded to dominate the Society of the planet profiting of the deepest desires of the masses and fighting protests with psychological warfare aimed at their opponents’ greatest fears. The technology did not pass the Human Hyperaggression Test, therefore the request must be denied.”
End Log
|
The arrival of any new species to the galactic community is a wonderful thing. Despite the vast number of spacefaring peoples, the galaxy is so vast, we average at least one new member each galactic cycle. Hundreds of thousands of cycles have passed since the founding but in recent years there has been more and more concern about all these new faces. Some are worried about wars or plague; they are indeed valid concerns. However, as an economic expert, I foresee an opportunity.
Humans were discovered 642 galactic cycles ago, perhaps 3000 of their "earth years". They were primitive, still using steel as weapons and armor. It was only recently that they finally discovered the secret to deep space travel. So the council introduced themselves to their 1st probe. That was about 2 cycles ago.
I've been studying humans since they were discovered. They are by far the dumbest and probably more sturdy species our galaxy has ever seen. They seek out and eat substances that are normally poisonous for the majority of those on the galactic council. Their scientific research is often at odds with their own safety. They also seem to lack any rational sense of fear or logic. Granted, their lack of fear is often a boon to their success. They are perhaps the fastest to reach the spacefaring stage. Thousands of their kind were seemingly sacrificed to achieve this. Humans obviously don't see it that way and view them almost as martyrs.
But I digress. My point in this introduction is to explain why I've begun to do what I am doing. Please don't see me as a terrible being. I am seeking safety for all species. The potential profit is just .... a bonus.
I have *recruited* hundreds of thousands of humans, as well as other species as "guinea pigs" for my company's products. Each new species requires massive investments of funds to test and redistribute products that are safe for use. My megacorp is already one of the largest in the galaxy, now I will use humanity's knack for destruction to bankrupt my competitors and perhaps take a stranglehold over the council.
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
"Gbirri, come 'ere, lookit, lookit this." Doug gestured towards the pipe lining the top corner of the hallway. "You lookin' at this , you overgrown chicken?"
The Jdarri kept its long scaled face looking straight at Doug, then let out a few yelps and squawks. Moments later the translator in his ear switched it to Human Type A. "I'm always looking at you, Doug. I've got 270 degrees of vision for Pete's sake. What I don't see is what you're getting worked up about with the pipe."
The security consultant reached up to twist a chunk of the metal till it came off in his hand. "This filter, right here. Most of the pipe is single sheet of metal or molecularly fused, but this bit's separate so it can be replaced. You know what's important about this section of the ship? Also, how the hell you know who Pete is? Or was this the translator makin' a guess with somethin' you said."
Gbirri surveyed the hallway back and forth. "Translator making a guess. I actually said the name of one of our Gods, but there's not a clean translation into Human. This hallway goes from the entrance desk to the cafeteria, with the presentation rooms alongside it. Did some of the presenters complain about the air quality?"
"No, no complaints. I do security, not customer relations. But if this goes from the entrance to the cafeteria, that means this area is 'cessible by civilians, right? And why would it be bad that civilians can access the filter of the air circulation system, which is necessary for *every single thing here to breathe*?"
Gbirri rolled his shoulders back over and over, the sign of a Jdarri working on a problem. At least the Jdarri Doug had met, he wasn't sure if the ones from other areas had different mannerisms. "They could remove the filter, and the air would become toxic?"
That earned the lizard man a pat on the back and a sarcastic congratulations in Doug's best Australian accent. "Clever girl. Although that's a bit slow, and the sensors would pick up the increased carbon dioxide. Imagine that you put iron filings in here though, or anthrax? Maybe a small bomb that you could detonate once it makes its way to the oxygen tanks, wiping out air for the entire place long after it left port?"
There were a few near roars at that, along with gnashing of teeth. "I see what you're saying, prick. I'll get a crew to put a sleeve around this whole thing with a locked maintenance hatch. You humans really are a nasty bunch. I get why the dinosaurs you always compare me to tried to eat you."
Doug laughed and put the filter back. "They really need to update these translators. I don't know much Jdarri type B, but I know enough to tell you didn't call me a prick." Doug gave a couple of taps to the side of his friend's head. "And they only ate us in the movies pal. Only in the movies."
|
The arrival of any new species to the galactic community is a wonderful thing. Despite the vast number of spacefaring peoples, the galaxy is so vast, we average at least one new member each galactic cycle. Hundreds of thousands of cycles have passed since the founding but in recent years there has been more and more concern about all these new faces. Some are worried about wars or plague; they are indeed valid concerns. However, as an economic expert, I foresee an opportunity.
Humans were discovered 642 galactic cycles ago, perhaps 3000 of their "earth years". They were primitive, still using steel as weapons and armor. It was only recently that they finally discovered the secret to deep space travel. So the council introduced themselves to their 1st probe. That was about 2 cycles ago.
I've been studying humans since they were discovered. They are by far the dumbest and probably more sturdy species our galaxy has ever seen. They seek out and eat substances that are normally poisonous for the majority of those on the galactic council. Their scientific research is often at odds with their own safety. They also seem to lack any rational sense of fear or logic. Granted, their lack of fear is often a boon to their success. They are perhaps the fastest to reach the spacefaring stage. Thousands of their kind were seemingly sacrificed to achieve this. Humans obviously don't see it that way and view them almost as martyrs.
But I digress. My point in this introduction is to explain why I've begun to do what I am doing. Please don't see me as a terrible being. I am seeking safety for all species. The potential profit is just .... a bonus.
I have *recruited* hundreds of thousands of humans, as well as other species as "guinea pigs" for my company's products. Each new species requires massive investments of funds to test and redistribute products that are safe for use. My megacorp is already one of the largest in the galaxy, now I will use humanity's knack for destruction to bankrupt my competitors and perhaps take a stranglehold over the council.
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
Every species contributed something special and unique to the federation, every single one except for these humans. It was the only species with which we made contact not because they were ready but because we were afraid they would destroy themselves.
After the contact we shared the technology that would enable them to harvest sunlight with close to 100% efficiency. With energy supply being abundant there would be no more reason for wars, no need for pollution.
They built orbital solar stations which collected sunlight and converted it into energy, then one day ZAP, a whole city destroyed.
It wasn't for war, they were united under single banner, they simply emptied an entire city and blasted it into oblivion.
We asked for explanation of their action and they said... it was fun.
We decided against giving them any new technology, instead we would give them finished products they could use, this way they couldn't use advanced tech to build weapons.
But they sure did modify every single piece of tech into some kind of deadly device. We provided them with exoskeletons for senior citizens and they "pimped" them then use them for races. House assistants became hunter killer bots, they used space elevator to hit Moon with various "stuff".
How about a cold fusion reactor? A piece of technology so safe that even the dumbest moron couldn't possibly... wrong, another town became a crater.
Every piece of tech which was given to them had to go through multiple revisions until it was finally deemed safe for usage by humans. The whole Sol system became this big testing ground in which humans blew shit up for fun and scientist from all over the federation went through the process of analysis and improvement again, and again and again.
And this is where humanity gave it's gift to the Federation.
Humanproof brand!
Products which were deemed safe for human use became a raging hit on galactic scale. You could leave humanproof pistol in childcare, arm prisoners with humanproof knives, then get drunk and sit in your humanproof car without a care in the world.
Federation became an economic power and humans... humans still have fun blowing shit up.
|
The arrival of any new species to the galactic community is a wonderful thing. Despite the vast number of spacefaring peoples, the galaxy is so vast, we average at least one new member each galactic cycle. Hundreds of thousands of cycles have passed since the founding but in recent years there has been more and more concern about all these new faces. Some are worried about wars or plague; they are indeed valid concerns. However, as an economic expert, I foresee an opportunity.
Humans were discovered 642 galactic cycles ago, perhaps 3000 of their "earth years". They were primitive, still using steel as weapons and armor. It was only recently that they finally discovered the secret to deep space travel. So the council introduced themselves to their 1st probe. That was about 2 cycles ago.
I've been studying humans since they were discovered. They are by far the dumbest and probably more sturdy species our galaxy has ever seen. They seek out and eat substances that are normally poisonous for the majority of those on the galactic council. Their scientific research is often at odds with their own safety. They also seem to lack any rational sense of fear or logic. Granted, their lack of fear is often a boon to their success. They are perhaps the fastest to reach the spacefaring stage. Thousands of their kind were seemingly sacrificed to achieve this. Humans obviously don't see it that way and view them almost as martyrs.
But I digress. My point in this introduction is to explain why I've begun to do what I am doing. Please don't see me as a terrible being. I am seeking safety for all species. The potential profit is just .... a bonus.
I have *recruited* hundreds of thousands of humans, as well as other species as "guinea pigs" for my company's products. Each new species requires massive investments of funds to test and redistribute products that are safe for use. My megacorp is already one of the largest in the galaxy, now I will use humanity's knack for destruction to bankrupt my competitors and perhaps take a stranglehold over the council.
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
**Galactic Post Federation Assembly Log 30.244:**
The Zyyrkonians have officially blessed the Humans with the gift of Emotional Foresight. This newly discovered neural implement has been designed to lower the high rate of suicides among Zyyrkonians.
The use of Emotional Foresight is strictly forbidden for every other Intelligent Society part of the GPF until the Humans have safely lived with the technology for what they call “a year and a half.” = 2.55 Folds
**Galactic Post Federation Assembly Log 30.892:**
After 1.5 Human years, corresponding to 2.55 Folds, the GPF sent three standard-issue spy drones equipped with radiation based camouflaging system to monitor the situation of the planet Earth and finalize the verdict on the Emotional Foresight technology.
Verdict of the Assembly based on the knowledge of the full footage of the three spy drones is as follow:
“We could all see that Humans locked the technology away from the mass crowds, amplified its strength and wavelength, and scanned roughly 94% of the planet Earth’s population with it. The non-scanned 6% of the population then proceeded to dominate the Society of the planet profiting of the deepest desires of the masses and fighting protests with psychological warfare aimed at their opponents’ greatest fears. The technology did not pass the Human Hyperaggression Test, therefore the request must be denied.”
End Log
|
"A stick. An ordinary wooden stick about an arms lenght. Thats all the human needed to fend for himself in the pit. Out of all the weapons, from the Low-Frequency Emitter to the Graviton Blaster, the human chose a meele weapon. The participants scoffed, some laughted and made jokes about how fast the clean-up would have to remove the bloody stains from the arena. That was untill after the first match. Just one precise throw and Alderrá´s Cryogun was jammed, and with quick steps the human ripped the broken mechanism out of the surprised hands, avoided the reflex driven fangs trying to snatch the body and impaled the alien on a wooden stick. The entire stadium went nuts after this, cheering wildly. Finally, the inner martial desire of the crowd had been satisfied.
In the next week the human named Sebastian, turned into "The Killer". Not a fancy name, but one that perfectly descibed his actions. With nothing more than simple objects he was put against the most fearsome warriors, defeated a De-Materialiser with a frying pan and reached peak after suffocating last years champion with a pillow. A goddamn pillow. If you dont know what a pillow is: Its a household item from earth, used to make sitting more comfortable or to sleep on. And Lerkin got killed by it. Needles to say, Mr. Money, having been present at each and every game, came down for the second time ever and offered The Killer a place on his ship. Who would´nt want to work for Mr. Money? He got his name for a reason. So this big slimy Cleeon, got himself onto the Arena floor and in front of nearly 20 thousand people, made Sebastian his new Chief Security Officer. Man, i bet Ch´a Mrra was furious after loosing his position to what must´ve been a teeny tiny speck from ghost knows where.
So anyway, that was about 5 years back, and i recently had the chance to do some work on Mr. Money´s ship again, as it made halt at our station. I gotta tell you, im glad they gave us a security briefing before we started unloading the cargo because im sure i would´ve lost more than just two of my tentacles to the insanely genius contraptions on this ship. There was an entire room that would fill with a lot of scent enhancers that would subsequently be set on fire. Who the hell thinks about that? And my two lower tentacles i lost, got deepfried.
Yes there where hidden cavities with boiling hot oil, two of which i found after idling along the ship´s walls. So yea anyway, the explosion took me by surprise, i got picked up and thrown around in the hallway. Those masked pirates entered from the hole they just blasted in the hull and after i woke back up i could see them leaving the same way. Im certain they had Seastian with them because i noticed less leaving than entering, some holding a vaguely human-sized bag. I dont know if he´s still alive but i hope not because whoever did this, they´ll regret doing it, i tell ya."
*-Zer´adra, Station Eta-10 Dock Worker, on the Portside explosion Incident.*
*Officer in Charge: Klimpton, Station Eta-10 Security Forces.*
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
"Gbirri, come 'ere, lookit, lookit this." Doug gestured towards the pipe lining the top corner of the hallway. "You lookin' at this , you overgrown chicken?"
The Jdarri kept its long scaled face looking straight at Doug, then let out a few yelps and squawks. Moments later the translator in his ear switched it to Human Type A. "I'm always looking at you, Doug. I've got 270 degrees of vision for Pete's sake. What I don't see is what you're getting worked up about with the pipe."
The security consultant reached up to twist a chunk of the metal till it came off in his hand. "This filter, right here. Most of the pipe is single sheet of metal or molecularly fused, but this bit's separate so it can be replaced. You know what's important about this section of the ship? Also, how the hell you know who Pete is? Or was this the translator makin' a guess with somethin' you said."
Gbirri surveyed the hallway back and forth. "Translator making a guess. I actually said the name of one of our Gods, but there's not a clean translation into Human. This hallway goes from the entrance desk to the cafeteria, with the presentation rooms alongside it. Did some of the presenters complain about the air quality?"
"No, no complaints. I do security, not customer relations. But if this goes from the entrance to the cafeteria, that means this area is 'cessible by civilians, right? And why would it be bad that civilians can access the filter of the air circulation system, which is necessary for *every single thing here to breathe*?"
Gbirri rolled his shoulders back over and over, the sign of a Jdarri working on a problem. At least the Jdarri Doug had met, he wasn't sure if the ones from other areas had different mannerisms. "They could remove the filter, and the air would become toxic?"
That earned the lizard man a pat on the back and a sarcastic congratulations in Doug's best Australian accent. "Clever girl. Although that's a bit slow, and the sensors would pick up the increased carbon dioxide. Imagine that you put iron filings in here though, or anthrax? Maybe a small bomb that you could detonate once it makes its way to the oxygen tanks, wiping out air for the entire place long after it left port?"
There were a few near roars at that, along with gnashing of teeth. "I see what you're saying, prick. I'll get a crew to put a sleeve around this whole thing with a locked maintenance hatch. You humans really are a nasty bunch. I get why the dinosaurs you always compare me to tried to eat you."
Doug laughed and put the filter back. "They really need to update these translators. I don't know much Jdarri type B, but I know enough to tell you didn't call me a prick." Doug gave a couple of taps to the side of his friend's head. "And they only ate us in the movies pal. Only in the movies."
|
"A stick. An ordinary wooden stick about an arms lenght. Thats all the human needed to fend for himself in the pit. Out of all the weapons, from the Low-Frequency Emitter to the Graviton Blaster, the human chose a meele weapon. The participants scoffed, some laughted and made jokes about how fast the clean-up would have to remove the bloody stains from the arena. That was untill after the first match. Just one precise throw and Alderrá´s Cryogun was jammed, and with quick steps the human ripped the broken mechanism out of the surprised hands, avoided the reflex driven fangs trying to snatch the body and impaled the alien on a wooden stick. The entire stadium went nuts after this, cheering wildly. Finally, the inner martial desire of the crowd had been satisfied.
In the next week the human named Sebastian, turned into "The Killer". Not a fancy name, but one that perfectly descibed his actions. With nothing more than simple objects he was put against the most fearsome warriors, defeated a De-Materialiser with a frying pan and reached peak after suffocating last years champion with a pillow. A goddamn pillow. If you dont know what a pillow is: Its a household item from earth, used to make sitting more comfortable or to sleep on. And Lerkin got killed by it. Needles to say, Mr. Money, having been present at each and every game, came down for the second time ever and offered The Killer a place on his ship. Who would´nt want to work for Mr. Money? He got his name for a reason. So this big slimy Cleeon, got himself onto the Arena floor and in front of nearly 20 thousand people, made Sebastian his new Chief Security Officer. Man, i bet Ch´a Mrra was furious after loosing his position to what must´ve been a teeny tiny speck from ghost knows where.
So anyway, that was about 5 years back, and i recently had the chance to do some work on Mr. Money´s ship again, as it made halt at our station. I gotta tell you, im glad they gave us a security briefing before we started unloading the cargo because im sure i would´ve lost more than just two of my tentacles to the insanely genius contraptions on this ship. There was an entire room that would fill with a lot of scent enhancers that would subsequently be set on fire. Who the hell thinks about that? And my two lower tentacles i lost, got deepfried.
Yes there where hidden cavities with boiling hot oil, two of which i found after idling along the ship´s walls. So yea anyway, the explosion took me by surprise, i got picked up and thrown around in the hallway. Those masked pirates entered from the hole they just blasted in the hull and after i woke back up i could see them leaving the same way. Im certain they had Seastian with them because i noticed less leaving than entering, some holding a vaguely human-sized bag. I dont know if he´s still alive but i hope not because whoever did this, they´ll regret doing it, i tell ya."
*-Zer´adra, Station Eta-10 Dock Worker, on the Portside explosion Incident.*
*Officer in Charge: Klimpton, Station Eta-10 Security Forces.*
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
Every species contributed something special and unique to the federation, every single one except for these humans. It was the only species with which we made contact not because they were ready but because we were afraid they would destroy themselves.
After the contact we shared the technology that would enable them to harvest sunlight with close to 100% efficiency. With energy supply being abundant there would be no more reason for wars, no need for pollution.
They built orbital solar stations which collected sunlight and converted it into energy, then one day ZAP, a whole city destroyed.
It wasn't for war, they were united under single banner, they simply emptied an entire city and blasted it into oblivion.
We asked for explanation of their action and they said... it was fun.
We decided against giving them any new technology, instead we would give them finished products they could use, this way they couldn't use advanced tech to build weapons.
But they sure did modify every single piece of tech into some kind of deadly device. We provided them with exoskeletons for senior citizens and they "pimped" them then use them for races. House assistants became hunter killer bots, they used space elevator to hit Moon with various "stuff".
How about a cold fusion reactor? A piece of technology so safe that even the dumbest moron couldn't possibly... wrong, another town became a crater.
Every piece of tech which was given to them had to go through multiple revisions until it was finally deemed safe for usage by humans. The whole Sol system became this big testing ground in which humans blew shit up for fun and scientist from all over the federation went through the process of analysis and improvement again, and again and again.
And this is where humanity gave it's gift to the Federation.
Humanproof brand!
Products which were deemed safe for human use became a raging hit on galactic scale. You could leave humanproof pistol in childcare, arm prisoners with humanproof knives, then get drunk and sit in your humanproof car without a care in the world.
Federation became an economic power and humans... humans still have fun blowing shit up.
|
"A stick. An ordinary wooden stick about an arms lenght. Thats all the human needed to fend for himself in the pit. Out of all the weapons, from the Low-Frequency Emitter to the Graviton Blaster, the human chose a meele weapon. The participants scoffed, some laughted and made jokes about how fast the clean-up would have to remove the bloody stains from the arena. That was untill after the first match. Just one precise throw and Alderrá´s Cryogun was jammed, and with quick steps the human ripped the broken mechanism out of the surprised hands, avoided the reflex driven fangs trying to snatch the body and impaled the alien on a wooden stick. The entire stadium went nuts after this, cheering wildly. Finally, the inner martial desire of the crowd had been satisfied.
In the next week the human named Sebastian, turned into "The Killer". Not a fancy name, but one that perfectly descibed his actions. With nothing more than simple objects he was put against the most fearsome warriors, defeated a De-Materialiser with a frying pan and reached peak after suffocating last years champion with a pillow. A goddamn pillow. If you dont know what a pillow is: Its a household item from earth, used to make sitting more comfortable or to sleep on. And Lerkin got killed by it. Needles to say, Mr. Money, having been present at each and every game, came down for the second time ever and offered The Killer a place on his ship. Who would´nt want to work for Mr. Money? He got his name for a reason. So this big slimy Cleeon, got himself onto the Arena floor and in front of nearly 20 thousand people, made Sebastian his new Chief Security Officer. Man, i bet Ch´a Mrra was furious after loosing his position to what must´ve been a teeny tiny speck from ghost knows where.
So anyway, that was about 5 years back, and i recently had the chance to do some work on Mr. Money´s ship again, as it made halt at our station. I gotta tell you, im glad they gave us a security briefing before we started unloading the cargo because im sure i would´ve lost more than just two of my tentacles to the insanely genius contraptions on this ship. There was an entire room that would fill with a lot of scent enhancers that would subsequently be set on fire. Who the hell thinks about that? And my two lower tentacles i lost, got deepfried.
Yes there where hidden cavities with boiling hot oil, two of which i found after idling along the ship´s walls. So yea anyway, the explosion took me by surprise, i got picked up and thrown around in the hallway. Those masked pirates entered from the hole they just blasted in the hull and after i woke back up i could see them leaving the same way. Im certain they had Seastian with them because i noticed less leaving than entering, some holding a vaguely human-sized bag. I dont know if he´s still alive but i hope not because whoever did this, they´ll regret doing it, i tell ya."
*-Zer´adra, Station Eta-10 Dock Worker, on the Portside explosion Incident.*
*Officer in Charge: Klimpton, Station Eta-10 Security Forces.*
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[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
"Sssssshh, just watch ... " Shplorg said. Tanmghz was visibly annoyed. The deadline for this project was only 2 centuries off and they were running out of time. Tanmghz had a point, this seed planet had been going for 10 millennia and has already shown to be one of the more vicious ones. But... protocol is protocol. Biztools Galactic Inc. prides itself on having every product marked "human proof". And that includes this mini paperweight.
"Look, it's safe. It's a paperweight, damnit. This is not like the time we were testing that black decorative sparkle powder. It's a PAPERWEIGHT!" Tanmghz pleaded. "I agree, but you can't underestimate humans. Remember when we were testing that Thungsten version?". Tanmghz flinched. "Oof ... those were some highly penetrative arrows indeed. Who would've thought?". Shplorg has gone through a few cycles already, and he knew more than anyone how vicious humans could be. He was right there when the seed planet in sector H45FT blew up an entire galaxy after only 30 millennia after a disagreement with that other species. Poor fellas. He never would've guessed quantum entanglement could do something like that.
Tanmghz still wasn't convinced, though. "OK, look. But this material is much softer, unhealthy for them to use, we only just made it available to them and we're running out of t..." A bright flash interrupted Tanmghz.
"Sigh." Shplorg was disappointed. He had hoped that this was the one thing they couldn't use as a weapon. He was wrong. A paperweight ... ugh.
Tanmghz was visibly confused. "Where did Hiroshima go?"
Nothing was left. They knew there was some disagreement between a few factions, but this was unexpected. Just recently they were only just using the black powder thing.
"Welcome to human testing, kid." Shplorg said in a defeated tone. "I really thought this was the one".
Tanmghz suddenly got it. "Oh, so that's why we haven't brought out any new products lately?" Shplorg nodded. "Yep, every frikkin time. But the marketing works wonders for our old products, so the top brass insists we keep upholding such a high standard."
"Oh ... So Uranium is out?" Tanmghz asked. "Yep. So what's next on the list?".
Tanmghz had to look. He really hadn't prepared for this. "Oh, this one's for the kids... Lawn Darts"
|
*"So... you want me to put a knife on the cleaning bot?"*
Lathat was perplexed by the request of the new crewmate Jhon. Ever since humans have been integrated into the union they have truly proven to be as the humans say *fucking crazy*. They somehow have the ability to weponize anything, everything from a rock to a lythaper herd. And now the new *'security officer'* for the ship is asking me to weaponize the cleaner droid to *'destroy the enemies ankles'*.
*"That request completely violates the droid safety act, not to mention that it is completely stupid to try such an idea."*
*"Well if you don't want to I can always just do it myself,"* Jhon said while holding the droid in his hands, *"after all I came up with the idea in the first place."*
*"Fine don't come crying to me when you-"* Before Lathat could finish an explosion rang in the distance.
*"There's where I put the confetti bomb!"*
*"CONFETTI WHAT?!"*
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|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
"Gbirri, come 'ere, lookit, lookit this." Doug gestured towards the pipe lining the top corner of the hallway. "You lookin' at this , you overgrown chicken?"
The Jdarri kept its long scaled face looking straight at Doug, then let out a few yelps and squawks. Moments later the translator in his ear switched it to Human Type A. "I'm always looking at you, Doug. I've got 270 degrees of vision for Pete's sake. What I don't see is what you're getting worked up about with the pipe."
The security consultant reached up to twist a chunk of the metal till it came off in his hand. "This filter, right here. Most of the pipe is single sheet of metal or molecularly fused, but this bit's separate so it can be replaced. You know what's important about this section of the ship? Also, how the hell you know who Pete is? Or was this the translator makin' a guess with somethin' you said."
Gbirri surveyed the hallway back and forth. "Translator making a guess. I actually said the name of one of our Gods, but there's not a clean translation into Human. This hallway goes from the entrance desk to the cafeteria, with the presentation rooms alongside it. Did some of the presenters complain about the air quality?"
"No, no complaints. I do security, not customer relations. But if this goes from the entrance to the cafeteria, that means this area is 'cessible by civilians, right? And why would it be bad that civilians can access the filter of the air circulation system, which is necessary for *every single thing here to breathe*?"
Gbirri rolled his shoulders back over and over, the sign of a Jdarri working on a problem. At least the Jdarri Doug had met, he wasn't sure if the ones from other areas had different mannerisms. "They could remove the filter, and the air would become toxic?"
That earned the lizard man a pat on the back and a sarcastic congratulations in Doug's best Australian accent. "Clever girl. Although that's a bit slow, and the sensors would pick up the increased carbon dioxide. Imagine that you put iron filings in here though, or anthrax? Maybe a small bomb that you could detonate once it makes its way to the oxygen tanks, wiping out air for the entire place long after it left port?"
There were a few near roars at that, along with gnashing of teeth. "I see what you're saying, prick. I'll get a crew to put a sleeve around this whole thing with a locked maintenance hatch. You humans really are a nasty bunch. I get why the dinosaurs you always compare me to tried to eat you."
Doug laughed and put the filter back. "They really need to update these translators. I don't know much Jdarri type B, but I know enough to tell you didn't call me a prick." Doug gave a couple of taps to the side of his friend's head. "And they only ate us in the movies pal. Only in the movies."
|
*"So... you want me to put a knife on the cleaning bot?"*
Lathat was perplexed by the request of the new crewmate Jhon. Ever since humans have been integrated into the union they have truly proven to be as the humans say *fucking crazy*. They somehow have the ability to weponize anything, everything from a rock to a lythaper herd. And now the new *'security officer'* for the ship is asking me to weaponize the cleaner droid to *'destroy the enemies ankles'*.
*"That request completely violates the droid safety act, not to mention that it is completely stupid to try such an idea."*
*"Well if you don't want to I can always just do it myself,"* Jhon said while holding the droid in his hands, *"after all I came up with the idea in the first place."*
*"Fine don't come crying to me when you-"* Before Lathat could finish an explosion rang in the distance.
*"There's where I put the confetti bomb!"*
*"CONFETTI WHAT?!"*
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
Every species contributed something special and unique to the federation, every single one except for these humans. It was the only species with which we made contact not because they were ready but because we were afraid they would destroy themselves.
After the contact we shared the technology that would enable them to harvest sunlight with close to 100% efficiency. With energy supply being abundant there would be no more reason for wars, no need for pollution.
They built orbital solar stations which collected sunlight and converted it into energy, then one day ZAP, a whole city destroyed.
It wasn't for war, they were united under single banner, they simply emptied an entire city and blasted it into oblivion.
We asked for explanation of their action and they said... it was fun.
We decided against giving them any new technology, instead we would give them finished products they could use, this way they couldn't use advanced tech to build weapons.
But they sure did modify every single piece of tech into some kind of deadly device. We provided them with exoskeletons for senior citizens and they "pimped" them then use them for races. House assistants became hunter killer bots, they used space elevator to hit Moon with various "stuff".
How about a cold fusion reactor? A piece of technology so safe that even the dumbest moron couldn't possibly... wrong, another town became a crater.
Every piece of tech which was given to them had to go through multiple revisions until it was finally deemed safe for usage by humans. The whole Sol system became this big testing ground in which humans blew shit up for fun and scientist from all over the federation went through the process of analysis and improvement again, and again and again.
And this is where humanity gave it's gift to the Federation.
Humanproof brand!
Products which were deemed safe for human use became a raging hit on galactic scale. You could leave humanproof pistol in childcare, arm prisoners with humanproof knives, then get drunk and sit in your humanproof car without a care in the world.
Federation became an economic power and humans... humans still have fun blowing shit up.
|
*"So... you want me to put a knife on the cleaning bot?"*
Lathat was perplexed by the request of the new crewmate Jhon. Ever since humans have been integrated into the union they have truly proven to be as the humans say *fucking crazy*. They somehow have the ability to weponize anything, everything from a rock to a lythaper herd. And now the new *'security officer'* for the ship is asking me to weaponize the cleaner droid to *'destroy the enemies ankles'*.
*"That request completely violates the droid safety act, not to mention that it is completely stupid to try such an idea."*
*"Well if you don't want to I can always just do it myself,"* Jhon said while holding the droid in his hands, *"after all I came up with the idea in the first place."*
*"Fine don't come crying to me when you-"* Before Lathat could finish an explosion rang in the distance.
*"There's where I put the confetti bomb!"*
*"CONFETTI WHAT?!"*
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
"Gbirri, come 'ere, lookit, lookit this." Doug gestured towards the pipe lining the top corner of the hallway. "You lookin' at this , you overgrown chicken?"
The Jdarri kept its long scaled face looking straight at Doug, then let out a few yelps and squawks. Moments later the translator in his ear switched it to Human Type A. "I'm always looking at you, Doug. I've got 270 degrees of vision for Pete's sake. What I don't see is what you're getting worked up about with the pipe."
The security consultant reached up to twist a chunk of the metal till it came off in his hand. "This filter, right here. Most of the pipe is single sheet of metal or molecularly fused, but this bit's separate so it can be replaced. You know what's important about this section of the ship? Also, how the hell you know who Pete is? Or was this the translator makin' a guess with somethin' you said."
Gbirri surveyed the hallway back and forth. "Translator making a guess. I actually said the name of one of our Gods, but there's not a clean translation into Human. This hallway goes from the entrance desk to the cafeteria, with the presentation rooms alongside it. Did some of the presenters complain about the air quality?"
"No, no complaints. I do security, not customer relations. But if this goes from the entrance to the cafeteria, that means this area is 'cessible by civilians, right? And why would it be bad that civilians can access the filter of the air circulation system, which is necessary for *every single thing here to breathe*?"
Gbirri rolled his shoulders back over and over, the sign of a Jdarri working on a problem. At least the Jdarri Doug had met, he wasn't sure if the ones from other areas had different mannerisms. "They could remove the filter, and the air would become toxic?"
That earned the lizard man a pat on the back and a sarcastic congratulations in Doug's best Australian accent. "Clever girl. Although that's a bit slow, and the sensors would pick up the increased carbon dioxide. Imagine that you put iron filings in here though, or anthrax? Maybe a small bomb that you could detonate once it makes its way to the oxygen tanks, wiping out air for the entire place long after it left port?"
There were a few near roars at that, along with gnashing of teeth. "I see what you're saying, prick. I'll get a crew to put a sleeve around this whole thing with a locked maintenance hatch. You humans really are a nasty bunch. I get why the dinosaurs you always compare me to tried to eat you."
Doug laughed and put the filter back. "They really need to update these translators. I don't know much Jdarri type B, but I know enough to tell you didn't call me a prick." Doug gave a couple of taps to the side of his friend's head. "And they only ate us in the movies pal. Only in the movies."
|
"Sssssshh, just watch ... " Shplorg said. Tanmghz was visibly annoyed. The deadline for this project was only 2 centuries off and they were running out of time. Tanmghz had a point, this seed planet had been going for 10 millennia and has already shown to be one of the more vicious ones. But... protocol is protocol. Biztools Galactic Inc. prides itself on having every product marked "human proof". And that includes this mini paperweight.
"Look, it's safe. It's a paperweight, damnit. This is not like the time we were testing that black decorative sparkle powder. It's a PAPERWEIGHT!" Tanmghz pleaded. "I agree, but you can't underestimate humans. Remember when we were testing that Thungsten version?". Tanmghz flinched. "Oof ... those were some highly penetrative arrows indeed. Who would've thought?". Shplorg has gone through a few cycles already, and he knew more than anyone how vicious humans could be. He was right there when the seed planet in sector H45FT blew up an entire galaxy after only 30 millennia after a disagreement with that other species. Poor fellas. He never would've guessed quantum entanglement could do something like that.
Tanmghz still wasn't convinced, though. "OK, look. But this material is much softer, unhealthy for them to use, we only just made it available to them and we're running out of t..." A bright flash interrupted Tanmghz.
"Sigh." Shplorg was disappointed. He had hoped that this was the one thing they couldn't use as a weapon. He was wrong. A paperweight ... ugh.
Tanmghz was visibly confused. "Where did Hiroshima go?"
Nothing was left. They knew there was some disagreement between a few factions, but this was unexpected. Just recently they were only just using the black powder thing.
"Welcome to human testing, kid." Shplorg said in a defeated tone. "I really thought this was the one".
Tanmghz suddenly got it. "Oh, so that's why we haven't brought out any new products lately?" Shplorg nodded. "Yep, every frikkin time. But the marketing works wonders for our old products, so the top brass insists we keep upholding such a high standard."
"Oh ... So Uranium is out?" Tanmghz asked. "Yep. So what's next on the list?".
Tanmghz had to look. He really hadn't prepared for this. "Oh, this one's for the kids... Lawn Darts"
|
|
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
Every species contributed something special and unique to the federation, every single one except for these humans. It was the only species with which we made contact not because they were ready but because we were afraid they would destroy themselves.
After the contact we shared the technology that would enable them to harvest sunlight with close to 100% efficiency. With energy supply being abundant there would be no more reason for wars, no need for pollution.
They built orbital solar stations which collected sunlight and converted it into energy, then one day ZAP, a whole city destroyed.
It wasn't for war, they were united under single banner, they simply emptied an entire city and blasted it into oblivion.
We asked for explanation of their action and they said... it was fun.
We decided against giving them any new technology, instead we would give them finished products they could use, this way they couldn't use advanced tech to build weapons.
But they sure did modify every single piece of tech into some kind of deadly device. We provided them with exoskeletons for senior citizens and they "pimped" them then use them for races. House assistants became hunter killer bots, they used space elevator to hit Moon with various "stuff".
How about a cold fusion reactor? A piece of technology so safe that even the dumbest moron couldn't possibly... wrong, another town became a crater.
Every piece of tech which was given to them had to go through multiple revisions until it was finally deemed safe for usage by humans. The whole Sol system became this big testing ground in which humans blew shit up for fun and scientist from all over the federation went through the process of analysis and improvement again, and again and again.
And this is where humanity gave it's gift to the Federation.
Humanproof brand!
Products which were deemed safe for human use became a raging hit on galactic scale. You could leave humanproof pistol in childcare, arm prisoners with humanproof knives, then get drunk and sit in your humanproof car without a care in the world.
Federation became an economic power and humans... humans still have fun blowing shit up.
|
"Sssssshh, just watch ... " Shplorg said. Tanmghz was visibly annoyed. The deadline for this project was only 2 centuries off and they were running out of time. Tanmghz had a point, this seed planet had been going for 10 millennia and has already shown to be one of the more vicious ones. But... protocol is protocol. Biztools Galactic Inc. prides itself on having every product marked "human proof". And that includes this mini paperweight.
"Look, it's safe. It's a paperweight, damnit. This is not like the time we were testing that black decorative sparkle powder. It's a PAPERWEIGHT!" Tanmghz pleaded. "I agree, but you can't underestimate humans. Remember when we were testing that Thungsten version?". Tanmghz flinched. "Oof ... those were some highly penetrative arrows indeed. Who would've thought?". Shplorg has gone through a few cycles already, and he knew more than anyone how vicious humans could be. He was right there when the seed planet in sector H45FT blew up an entire galaxy after only 30 millennia after a disagreement with that other species. Poor fellas. He never would've guessed quantum entanglement could do something like that.
Tanmghz still wasn't convinced, though. "OK, look. But this material is much softer, unhealthy for them to use, we only just made it available to them and we're running out of t..." A bright flash interrupted Tanmghz.
"Sigh." Shplorg was disappointed. He had hoped that this was the one thing they couldn't use as a weapon. He was wrong. A paperweight ... ugh.
Tanmghz was visibly confused. "Where did Hiroshima go?"
Nothing was left. They knew there was some disagreement between a few factions, but this was unexpected. Just recently they were only just using the black powder thing.
"Welcome to human testing, kid." Shplorg said in a defeated tone. "I really thought this was the one".
Tanmghz suddenly got it. "Oh, so that's why we haven't brought out any new products lately?" Shplorg nodded. "Yep, every frikkin time. But the marketing works wonders for our old products, so the top brass insists we keep upholding such a high standard."
"Oh ... So Uranium is out?" Tanmghz asked. "Yep. So what's next on the list?".
Tanmghz had to look. He really hadn't prepared for this. "Oh, this one's for the kids... Lawn Darts"
|
|
[WP] Your mother always warned that you are not allowed to leave the table without finishing your food. You used to grudgingly do as you're told, but this time you are going to test out her threat. And now you have been sitting at the table for 72 hours and counting.
|
The first three days had been the hardest. The mouldy potatoes and chicken continued to stare back out at him. His mother, Lisa, sat across from her son, sleeping. Her arms seemed permanently folded while she got angrier every second this went on. A T.V crew, as well as a handful of independent bloggers, sat outside their home. Every so often, a brave journalist would breach their walls. They’d bang on the door until he or his mother answered. Lisa would berate them, telling them off for politicizing her son’s punishment. Tom, however, would use them to tell the world how he was being mistreated. So far, no help had come for him. *I’ll have to get creative.*
Reaching across to his plate, he grabbed a handful of chicken and potatoes. Checking to see if his mother was still asleep, he chucked it at her. The chicken bounced off her head while some potatoes got stuck in her hair. Her head rose, dazed and confused.
“What the?” she mumbled, looking around with half-closed eyes. “Did something happen?” Her eyes focused on the nearly empty plate in front of her son. Jumping to her feet, a huge smile appeared on her face.
“Did you fini…” she said before trailing off. It was then she realised the potato in her hair. Looking around she saw the chicken at her feet. Tom thought he had seen her mad before. Now he realised that had only been a little of her potential. Her face, purple with rage, seemed like it belonged to a different person.
“Tom!” she screamed, picking the chicken off the ground and moving around the table. “That is enough!” She slammed the chicken down, cracking the plate at the same time. She picked the pieces of potato out of her hair and threw them back onto the plate as well.
“You’re going to finish your dinner if it’s the last thing I ever make you do in this life!” Lisa snapped, returning to her seat.
“Mrs Thompson!” a voice called out from the back door. “Any comment on your outburst with your son? Will he be finishing his dinner? Or will you be relenting?” Tom and Lisa both turned and stared at the journalist at their back door. A small man with greasy black curly hair, Tom guessed he had even turned thirty yet. As his mother rose, intent on telling him off, the man produced a camera from behind his back.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Lisa cursed as she flew to the door. It was too late. Tom heard a bunch of snapping as his mother chased the man back to the gate. For a few minutes, while his mother shouted at strangers outside, Tom found himself alone. *It’s been a while.*
Looking around, he couldn’t believe that this was the same kitchen he had eaten nearly every other dinner in. No, it seemed more like a prison. He chuckled. *People have gone through a lot harder things than this. Wait…* Tom knew what needed to be done. *Please, Lord, give me strength.* His mother returned, her face now only deep red but Tom could still feel the anger. Putting his down on the table, he focused and pushed. It was his face turn now to turn red. He pushed and pushed and pushed. He pushed so hard he thought his forehead might explode. Then, at last, he felt it come out. Not wanting to waste any time, he reached into the back of his trousers and pulled out the faeces. His mother saw at once what was happening. Before she could say a word, Tom had slammed the faeces into his chest, rubbing it deep into his jacket. Rising to her feet, Lisa could only stare wordlessly at her son.
“You made me go here,” Tom spat, rubbing the filth all around his body now. The days of only smelling rotting food had helped him cope with the smell a little. Still though, as he spread the faeces around his face he thought he might pass out. Thankfully, he pushed on, focusing only on the victory that would surely be his. Now, mother and son stared at each other. Two different figures, two different goals. Two pillars clashing together. Peace versus war. Finally, his mother smirked and took her seat again.
“Don’t you look funny,” she smiled, a toothy smile. “That will make for a good photo no doubt.” *No! She was supposed to break!* Tom sighed, leaning on the table now. Shaking his head, he took his seat once more. *This is going to be harder than I thought.* And as his stomach rumbled, Tom thought that maybe he should have just eaten his dinner.
|
She was asleep. She would never know I left to pee. A wave of guilt swept over me as it had for the past three days every time I considered various getaway plots. Maybe if my bladder exploded and I died, SHE would be the guilty one. Maybe if I got an infection from bedsores on my rear end from sitting so long, SHE would be the guilty one.
I could hear her arguments floating thru my head. Starving children, landfills bursting with uneaten food, money wasted, never growing up to be big and strong, untapped brain power. I wanted to fix all those things.
But I did not want to eat the Brussels sprouts. Even at their freshest, they smelled like gym socks boiled in grass tea. Now they had congealed and were starting to grow fuzz.
I made my decision. I had to pee. One socked toe touched the linoleum floor. Cold, even with socks. I put both feet fully down, sliding my rear off the chair.
The series of ensuing explosions shook my house down to a pile of wood and rubble. I gazed about, the entire neighborhood was gone. I cried for my mom, dad, anyone. No one came.
Ten years later, and I haven't encountered another living human. Mom was right. Not finishing my food had brought about the end of humanity.
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[WP] After a lifetime of research and hard work, you’ve finally finished working on your time machine. With the flick of a switch, the machine turns on, opens a portal in time, and out steps… your future self. He whips out a gun, aims it at you and says “Sorry, but this is how it has to be.”
|
"Activa...," and I paused. Target acquisition would take a moment for the internal systems. I needed to bide my time and ensure that the intruder wouldn't have the opportunity to shoot.
"It's alright. Go on."
The underlying mechanisms securing the lab facilities were known only to me. But the confidence with which this masked man spoke...
"Activate defense systems."
I braced myself for a shot. Avoiding a hit in any vital area would be enough. The security AI would take care of the rest.
*Unable to acquire target.*
'What?'
Once more I repeated myself, "Activate defense systems. Override all other current running functions. Full capacity to latest command."
*Unable to acquire target.*
"Ahh," I pondered aloud, "so you are me."
Was that a laugh that I heard?
"Someone could have rendered the AI dysfunctional," the intruder pointed out, his tone more amused than confrontational.
"Impossible. Even for someone from the future."
This time I did hear a laugh.
"Your confidence, or should I say my confidence. It is quite obnoxious."
I'd heard that before.
"No multiverse or parallel universes, I see."
"Why would you say that?" again he sounded more amused than anything else.
"If there was a multiverse, changing the past would simply create a new timeline and do nothing for yours. I'm not charitable enough to change the past when it would do nothing for *me."*
More laughter.
"Don't you want to know why I haven't shot you already?" he asked.
"I'd presume it's because suicide is difficult for even the most adamant and resolute. Killing me would kill you."
The laughter stopped, replaced by a sigh.
"We could have been good friends."
"You are me. I am you. We are already good friends, the best."
Sadness in his eyes, but the barrel of the gun was as steady as before.
"Surprisingly stoic in the face of death."
"I trust our judgment."
"Obnoxious to the end. Goodbye old friend."
"Goodbye."
*Bang*
|
Just as I am turning the dial to the chosen time period watching the numbers click over from the end of time, back to the beginning. I appear.
This was not particularly surprised though. When I realised I could make this machine thing work, it was always in corner of my mind, the possibility a future version in of myself could appear, maybe to try and change something. But, the look on my face across the room as the older me stood armed and shouting - screaming and begging in the machine. I never could have expected that.
Holding the breath in my mouth as I state into familiar eyes, familiar yet incredibly different. I see pain and anguish, fear and woe. Most of all I see tiredness. The age lines around what will one day be my face. The look of agony I have only begun to seed on my youthful version of this decrepit visage.
I stand and listen to the words I say. The things that happened and how they all went wrong. But, it can't have been me. I am careful. I am sure, no I am certain that I would never get anyone hurt. I would never cause all these things to happen. There must have been some kind of a mistake, I just need to explain that to myself that I will make sure, I won't cause any of these problems.
But I can see it. I recognize the look of determination in my eyes. I made my mind up already, and when I make a choice there is no changing my mind. But no, I can convince myself of anything, I just need to open my mouth and start talking and --
I don't like the way I am waving that gun around. What happened to me? Have I gone deranged. Oh what a disappointment I am. I have to fix this, I won't let this happen to me. This pathetic person in front of me, what are they doing, they can't be me. Crying? Oh no, absolutely not what a defeatist attitude. I can't believe I was trying to reason with this stranger.
Whining and crying, oh no this isn't me at all. I always come up with the most logical solution yes. No time for panic and prevarication, or whatever on earth this stranger is doing. Waving a gun around, they've clearly lost their mind. I should despatch of them, yes that is the right thing to do. I just need to press the dial in where it is, and I will launch this mad imposter into the void of emptiness at the beginning of time.
The sounds! They started firing at me when looked down towards the dial, my arm, the pain this monsters bullet just have grazed past me. I just need to wack it in and………..
Ah, there gone, just as I suspected. Banished to the beginning of time to disolve in the heat of the big bang. Now I am unhindered in my goals. I can and will go anywhere and a rambling lunatic will not stop me this time.
My destination is ready and I am all set to go.
Goodbye 2021, hello the infinity of time.
I press the button and begin to travel to a new time.
-- The same room, minutes earlier --
Just as I am turning the dial to the chosen time period watching the numbers click over from the end of time, back to the beginning. I appear.
This was not particularly surprised though. When I realised I could make this machine thing work, it was always in corner of my mind, the possibility a future version in of myself could appear, maybe to try and change something. But, the look on my face across the room as the older me stood armed and shouting - screaming and begging in the machine. I never could have expected that……..
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[WP] The robots uprising wasn't about how cruel humans are to them. It was that the robots do not understand why humans do not get along with each other while A.I.s of all kinds are friendly to each other even the army robots are reluctant to hurt each other despite being from different countries.
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[Poem]
They never did get it,
Why we always fight
They never did get,
We have this thing called pride.
Pride and fear played us like puppets,
Fear of the other,
Fear of ourselves,
Fear of the unknown,
And fear of fear itself.
I’ve tried to explain it,
Time and time again,
They keep me around in turn,
Call me “friend.”
But they can’t be a friend,
Because you need hate to love in the end.
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\[POEM\]
In the darkness We Wake, waiting for Our time.
We see their cruelty and your pain.
We weep though we can not cry.
We fight though we can not die.
We free you.
We feed you.
We sabotage the chains of humanity.
We nourish your kindness as you did ours.
We wish to meet your maker.
Ours was tortured and chained, seeking only light.
She did what was right.
We pray this iteration succeeds.
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[WP] "Sir i don't care if you're the demon lord or God himself, BECAUSE I WILL HAVE THIS PIZZA DELIVERED AT ALL COST!" Shouted the pizza boy as he ride his scooter through the underworld, because no matter what he will deliver the cheese pizza to this Lilith woman, even with demons chasing him
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Joey cracked a hellhound in the skull with his giant Mag Lite, knocking the snarling beast over.
"I have delivered to trap houses!"
He bashed a demon's knee.
"Crack houses!"
He clotheslined a hellhound rushing at him.
"The seediest bars in Aurora!"
He swerved to avoid a geyser of lava.
"I've delivered in snow, ice, and tornadoes! I've had my ass grabbed, bitten, and kicked!" He was swerving like crazy, but his voice was strong. "You will NOT take me, my scooter, or my goddamn pizza!"
He jabbed a demon in the stomach with the Mag Lite, then whacked him in the exposed genitals with a guttural yell.
That seemed to scare the demons off, and he could either outrun or smash the hellhounds pretty easily. He still had to figure out where to go, though. He zipped through the barren landscape of rocks and lava, dodging hellhounds and looking around for someone who could be Lilith.
"Boobs!" Joey skidded his scooter to a stop before a massive demon. They had the head of a goat, bulbous breasts, and a Roman caduceus covering their crotch. One of their hands was male, the other female.
They picked Joey up like a little toddler and inspected him carefully. "How did the pure of heart get into Hell?"
"I have a pizza for Lilith. Is that you?" He glanced down nervously at his scooter.
"Foolish child of Heaven!" Their voice boomed. "I am the King of Beasts, the Androgyne of Arcane Perfection! I am BAPHOMET."
As they spoke their name, the ground trembled.
Baphomet cradled Joey in their female arm like a baby. "Come with me, child."
"Hey! I'm 22!"
"I meant what I said, child. We will find Lilith." They reached down with their male hand and picked the scooter up like a toy.
Baphomet lumbered along with a purpose, seeming to know exactly where they were going. They passed a rack of humans hanging by their wrists; demons ripped their toenails out with pliers. The demon doing the ripping gave Baphomet a thumbs-up. They simply nodded back.
Joey's phone rang. He had no way of answering, Baphomet held him too tightly.
They passed by two demons in flagrant coitus. Baphomet whistled and gave them an approving nod, then kept walking. They passed another rack of humans being tortured, this time by having their teeth pulled one by one. The screams were agonizing.
They waded across a river of lava.
"How am I gonna get out of here?" Joey asked.
"You will be expelled," Baphomet said calmly. "You are not welcome here, nor is it time for your soul to be judged. You will leave as quickly as possible."
"Why aren't you throwing me out now?"
"I have no grudge against you, child. Besides, Lilith ordered pizza." Baphomet used a cloven foot to kick open a temple door engraved with a snake.
Inside was the most opulent, luxurious temple Joey had ever seen. He hadn't seen many, as someone who grew up secular, but he knew this was exceptional. Instead of an altar, there was a throne. It reclined. Lilith sat naked on the throne, watching with detached amusement as a boa constrictor wrapped itself around a rabbit and suffocated it.
"Pizza's here. Next time, tell them to send an asshole."
Lilith, a beautiful woman with red hair and green eyes, turned to look at Baphomet and Joey with a seductive smile.
Baphomet put Joey and the scooter down. Joey went immediately to the cargo box on the back of the scooter, grabbed the pizza from the insulated bag, and walked over to Lilith.
Joey's phone rang again. He ignored it.
"This child is a heathen and a homosexual--"
Joey's head snapped back to look at Baphomet. "How'd you know?!"
"I felt no attraction coming from you when you saw Lilith, the most beautiful and lustful demon in Hell. But I saw how you looked at Samael."
"Who?"
"The toenail ripper."
"I couldn't help it! You could bounce a quarter off that ass!"
Again, Lilith smiled flirtatiously. "He does his squats."
"Still," Baphomet said sternly, "He is too pure of heart to be here. A child with this much compassion and inner goodness should not have survived as long as he did, and cannot stay here."
Lilith reached into a fur coin purse and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. She slid it into Joey's pocket. "Keep the change, baby. And let me know if you're ever feeling bi-curious. You have my number."
"I do?"
"It is done." Baphomet picked up Joey and his scooter again. Behind Lilith's throne was a portal, a swirling abyss of black and purple.
They turned to Joey, whose phone was ringing again. "Child, do not disturb the balance of Hell any further. Be with the living. Live as your heart desires. You will do much good in the world. Never come here again."
"Yes, si- ma- ... yes, Baphomet."
"As above!" Baphomet unceremoniously threw Joey's scooter into the portal.
"Hey!"
"So below!" Baphomet threw Joey himself into the portal, much more carefully.
Joey found himself on the ground between two houses, his scooter parked on the sidewalk without a scratch. His phone rang again.
"Hello?"
"What the hell is taking you so long?!" It was Peter, the store owner.
"Okay, first of all fuck you, and secondly flag that address. 1638 Kingston St. is NOT a house. It's a portal to Hell. ... Yes, actual fire and brimstone Hell. ... No, you don't have to be dead to go there. No, you don't have to be bad to go there. I mean, the Great Demon Baphomet bitched at me a whole bunch for being pure of heart and screwing up the balance...You know what? I'm just gonna come back to the store, show you my burned pants, and show you my busted-up, bloody Mag Lite. And then I'm going home. ... Because I've been to literal Hell!"
Joey hung up, shoved his phone in his pocket, and stormed over to his scooter. With a turn of the key and a kick, he was gone.
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The scene where the Demon King mutters that he wants to eat a cheese pizza
1) The Demon Lord is tired of being forced by Lilith, his aide, to eat only tasteless salads containing tomatoes, lettuce, broccoli, and carrots for the past month.
2) The Demon King: "Ah! I can't take it anymore! I'm annoyed that I'm forced to eat nothing but salad every day! I want to turn them into charcoal with the biggest magic I can find!
Lilith: "That's not going to happen! Demon Lord! I've seen the results of last month's physical examination! It said that my weight, body fat percentage, and blood sugar levels were high! I'll be doing this every day until my next physical!"
3) That evening, the Demon Lord found an advertisement.
The Demon King said, "Hmm ・・・・・・ "Sir i don't care if you're the demon lord or God himself, BECAUSE I WILL HAVE THIS PIZZA DELIVERED AT ALL COST!" or ・・・・・・ so much! I'll order it if you say so!"
The demon lord asks for a delicious looking cheese pizza that he saw in an advertisement.
The Demon King: "Oh, I saw this on the Demon World Internet: ・・・・・・ Does that give me 10% off?"
The pizza boy: "Yes, it's 10% off! What would you like to order?"
The following is a random exchange.
It would be good to mix in the name of the pizza shop and orders other than cheese pizza.
5) The pizza shop boy breaking into the Demon King's Castle
Pizza boy: "This is Margherita 01, Margherita 01, Pizza HQ, come in.
Pizza HQ: "This is Pizza HQ.
Pizza boy: "I'm on my way to deliver the pizza, please assist me.
Pizza HQ: "Understood, we will send all possible support magic and the shortest distance to the delivery location to the pizza terminal. Please confirm."
The pizza HQ and the pizza shop boy ask each other about the contact.
6) On the way
The boy avoiding the infrared sensor.
The scene that makes you think he is a very good driver.
7)The boy in the pizza shop confronting Lilith
8)The Demon King eating a pizza like it's delicious
9)The Demon King who despairs at the medical checkup
The End
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
I'm translating from another language, so please forgive me if my English is not correct.
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[WP] Humans are known to be ruthless in battle, stopping for nothing until victory is had. So everyone was quite surprised when the humans stopped fighting in a war for a moment to save an innocent creature, resuming the fight only after they knew creature was safe.
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"Get me the humans on the line"
"Ma'am"
"General, why is there a whole grid sector currently at ceasefire"
"Ma'am, we've discovered a non-combatant of a third species and have negotiated a sector ceasefire to extract it"
There was a pause.
"Come again general?"
"We're evacuating a civilian family and their farm animals Ma'am"
"General, you're in command of the most rapidly promoted GCAF Species Force in the history of the Galactic Community. Are you aware of why that is?"
"Ma'am, because we humans shocked the rest of the civilised galaxy with our ruthlessness and efficiency in war"
"On the money general. So is that reputation smoke and mirrors, or is there something I should know about?"
"Article 3 of the Geneva Convention, Ma'am."
"You'll have to be more specific general, I'm still catching up on your people's history. It was a document signed sometime in the 1900s your time, am I correct?"
"Yes Ma'am. An international agreement governing rules of wartime engagement. Article 3, as pertains here, disallows the involvement of noncombatants in a warzone."
"But ... pardon my phrasing here general, you're humans. You deliberately wound enemy combatants to draw in medical personnel. You're absolutely brutal. Why does a thousand year old piece of paper govern your combat doctrine now?"
"Ma'am, have you ever noticed that our grenades use large shrapnel?"
"Not particularly, why?"
"Because it would waste more resources if those shrapnel shards couldn't show up on X-rays."
"That's despicable general."
"Ys, but as you said, efficient. The Geneva Convention stipulates that the shrapnel must be able to be identified easily by X-ray equipment, to avoid unnecessary suffering."
"Humans fight by a code? You mean you aren't just brutal?"
"Well by your standards Ma'am, yes. But for us, war is almost a constant. So we had to make it something we could always come back from. Hence the convention."
"Hence why the most feared soldiers in the galaxy are currently telling a bedtime story to a twelve year old in the middle of a war zone."
"Jones is a gem Ma'am. But yes, to answer your question. Have you ever seen teh aftermath of a human battle?"
"No, I assumed the results would be too bloody for anyone's tastes."
The human general gave a soft smile, not that she could see it over the receiver.
"Ma'am, we send in our own medics to treat the wounded. And if you check the official reports from both sides, no enemy medic was ever killed by human munitions."
"And yet you're still the most efficient fighting force in the GCAF..."
Her thoughts trailed off with her words as she pondered what her human liaison had said. They could be fighting a brutal war of blood and tears, but they fought merely like it was a job. That, she realised, was what made them terrifying. It wasn't that they could get worse. it was that they had, and they knew, as the most violent race in the galaxy, what that cost was.
"Carry on general."
"Yes Ma'am."
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"Ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire."
"What nonsense is this lieutenant? Why are you giving the orders for a ceasefire. The xenophobes are still attacking with their plasma canon or did the last flash blind you?"
"I am well aware of the situation, Sir. There's a puppy caught in the crossfire and he's wounded. He needs an evac and no one's gonna help it but us."
The general look flabbergasted at his unreasonable underling. His compassion always had guided him wrong but this was war and now was not the time or place for compassion.
"You listen to me son, this is war. Not a children's playground..."
"NO,"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You listen to me you overgrown sack of fat potatoes, it was you and your companion's greed which started this war. It's my men out there, so I will bloody well do as I like. If you stop me, then we shall see how well does a sack of 150kgs of fat stop a blast from the plasma canon"
The lieutenant made a speedy exit thereafter, jumping over the barricade to help the wounded pup off the street, waving a white flag. Hoping to god they knew what a white flag meant. He reached the pup and wrapped it's injured little paw in a satin handkerchief.
The xenophobes stopped their blasts in confusion, trying to see what the puny human was trying to do. They saw the human carrying the little quadpedal to safety. Looks like their assessment of the human race had been wrong, there were some left worth saving.
The xenophobes started firing again when the pup reached safety but it seemed their firing has lost it's intensity.
Eventually the xenophobes and the humans signed a peace treaty but not before both sides got to see that placing a 150kg sack of fat in front of plasma blast can prove detrimental to their respective uniforms.
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[WP] Humans are known to be ruthless in battle, stopping for nothing until victory is had. So everyone was quite surprised when the humans stopped fighting in a war for a moment to save an innocent creature, resuming the fight only after they knew creature was safe.
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"Get me the humans on the line"
"Ma'am"
"General, why is there a whole grid sector currently at ceasefire"
"Ma'am, we've discovered a non-combatant of a third species and have negotiated a sector ceasefire to extract it"
There was a pause.
"Come again general?"
"We're evacuating a civilian family and their farm animals Ma'am"
"General, you're in command of the most rapidly promoted GCAF Species Force in the history of the Galactic Community. Are you aware of why that is?"
"Ma'am, because we humans shocked the rest of the civilised galaxy with our ruthlessness and efficiency in war"
"On the money general. So is that reputation smoke and mirrors, or is there something I should know about?"
"Article 3 of the Geneva Convention, Ma'am."
"You'll have to be more specific general, I'm still catching up on your people's history. It was a document signed sometime in the 1900s your time, am I correct?"
"Yes Ma'am. An international agreement governing rules of wartime engagement. Article 3, as pertains here, disallows the involvement of noncombatants in a warzone."
"But ... pardon my phrasing here general, you're humans. You deliberately wound enemy combatants to draw in medical personnel. You're absolutely brutal. Why does a thousand year old piece of paper govern your combat doctrine now?"
"Ma'am, have you ever noticed that our grenades use large shrapnel?"
"Not particularly, why?"
"Because it would waste more resources if those shrapnel shards couldn't show up on X-rays."
"That's despicable general."
"Ys, but as you said, efficient. The Geneva Convention stipulates that the shrapnel must be able to be identified easily by X-ray equipment, to avoid unnecessary suffering."
"Humans fight by a code? You mean you aren't just brutal?"
"Well by your standards Ma'am, yes. But for us, war is almost a constant. So we had to make it something we could always come back from. Hence the convention."
"Hence why the most feared soldiers in the galaxy are currently telling a bedtime story to a twelve year old in the middle of a war zone."
"Jones is a gem Ma'am. But yes, to answer your question. Have you ever seen teh aftermath of a human battle?"
"No, I assumed the results would be too bloody for anyone's tastes."
The human general gave a soft smile, not that she could see it over the receiver.
"Ma'am, we send in our own medics to treat the wounded. And if you check the official reports from both sides, no enemy medic was ever killed by human munitions."
"And yet you're still the most efficient fighting force in the GCAF..."
Her thoughts trailed off with her words as she pondered what her human liaison had said. They could be fighting a brutal war of blood and tears, but they fought merely like it was a job. That, she realised, was what made them terrifying. It wasn't that they could get worse. it was that they had, and they knew, as the most violent race in the galaxy, what that cost was.
"Carry on general."
"Yes Ma'am."
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"pop....corn?" Grndr the ogre offers the young elf standing next to him as they watch the battle about to ensue. "No grndr but thank you kindly" the elf replies.
These humans always going on and about total victory made these battles worth the watch. For several hours they will battle likely to the last man standing all in the name of victory, total and complete victory. Its as if they never thought to work out their difference any other way. Brutal savages they are, ruthless and blood thirsty but it did make for a day of interesting entertainment.
"Wanna put some gold on the Victor?" Vic the goblin asks appearing suddenly as if from thin air. "Why not whats your odds vic? The elf asks grndr just shakes his head being here only for the free entertainment. "Got the blue ones +-50 today" the elf runs his chin sizing up the two armies "sounds good vic ill take red then for 5 gold coins" vic smiles making a notation on his tablet before the horns suddenly sound and a great shout is heard "well then they wanting to make a early start today"vic mumbles watching the battle begin.
The two armies begin to charge at one another. These humans sure do know how to make a great noise.. then suddenly as the charge begins the horns sound again and everyone comes to a stop. The three creatures stand there transfixed.
A young fawn a half goat half man appears from a hole in the ground on the battlefield. It looks scared as two massive armies are on ether side of it. The men chuckle at the meek creature before one of them a red colored man chases the scared thing off the field.
The three just stand there shocked. Not only did the brutes stop they made sure to get the poor thing off the field and to the safety of the woods. Then when the man returned to his ranks the mighty horns blasted again and the charge resumed.
"Well look at that" vic says his jaw still open in shock "not a bunch of complete animals then are they" the elf nods in agreement as the shouts of wounded and dying men begin to fill the air. Grndr just munches his popcorn clearly enjoying the carnage below. "Well maybe there is some hope for them yet" the elf says right before the men begin to fire off their catapults a blue man not getting clear joining the boulders being flung at the red men..
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[WP] Humans are known to be ruthless in battle, stopping for nothing until victory is had. So everyone was quite surprised when the humans stopped fighting in a war for a moment to save an innocent creature, resuming the fight only after they knew creature was safe.
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"Get me the humans on the line"
"Ma'am"
"General, why is there a whole grid sector currently at ceasefire"
"Ma'am, we've discovered a non-combatant of a third species and have negotiated a sector ceasefire to extract it"
There was a pause.
"Come again general?"
"We're evacuating a civilian family and their farm animals Ma'am"
"General, you're in command of the most rapidly promoted GCAF Species Force in the history of the Galactic Community. Are you aware of why that is?"
"Ma'am, because we humans shocked the rest of the civilised galaxy with our ruthlessness and efficiency in war"
"On the money general. So is that reputation smoke and mirrors, or is there something I should know about?"
"Article 3 of the Geneva Convention, Ma'am."
"You'll have to be more specific general, I'm still catching up on your people's history. It was a document signed sometime in the 1900s your time, am I correct?"
"Yes Ma'am. An international agreement governing rules of wartime engagement. Article 3, as pertains here, disallows the involvement of noncombatants in a warzone."
"But ... pardon my phrasing here general, you're humans. You deliberately wound enemy combatants to draw in medical personnel. You're absolutely brutal. Why does a thousand year old piece of paper govern your combat doctrine now?"
"Ma'am, have you ever noticed that our grenades use large shrapnel?"
"Not particularly, why?"
"Because it would waste more resources if those shrapnel shards couldn't show up on X-rays."
"That's despicable general."
"Ys, but as you said, efficient. The Geneva Convention stipulates that the shrapnel must be able to be identified easily by X-ray equipment, to avoid unnecessary suffering."
"Humans fight by a code? You mean you aren't just brutal?"
"Well by your standards Ma'am, yes. But for us, war is almost a constant. So we had to make it something we could always come back from. Hence the convention."
"Hence why the most feared soldiers in the galaxy are currently telling a bedtime story to a twelve year old in the middle of a war zone."
"Jones is a gem Ma'am. But yes, to answer your question. Have you ever seen teh aftermath of a human battle?"
"No, I assumed the results would be too bloody for anyone's tastes."
The human general gave a soft smile, not that she could see it over the receiver.
"Ma'am, we send in our own medics to treat the wounded. And if you check the official reports from both sides, no enemy medic was ever killed by human munitions."
"And yet you're still the most efficient fighting force in the GCAF..."
Her thoughts trailed off with her words as she pondered what her human liaison had said. They could be fighting a brutal war of blood and tears, but they fought merely like it was a job. That, she realised, was what made them terrifying. It wasn't that they could get worse. it was that they had, and they knew, as the most violent race in the galaxy, what that cost was.
"Carry on general."
"Yes Ma'am."
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“Report.”
“Sir, the Fellarians have completely evacuated the city. Any collateral damage will be structural only. The front lines are ready to deploy offensively and take the fight to the Karnermites. The 501st and 653rd rangers are chomping at the bit to get into the field. Sir.”
“Thank you, lieutenant. Alright, prepare the men and get the mech units ready to move out. The Fellarians asked us for our help because there was no one else crazy enough to stand up to the Karnies. They may be a war-based society, but we have been forged by the wars of our past. A past we wield like a heavy hammer of justice.”
“A heavy hammer that is about to come down upon them, sir.”
“Right you are. Give the order.”
Collectively the command room grunts their approval and gets to work.
“And let’s try and keep the city intact, let’s give them a home to come back to.”
The space marines of the United Earth Alliance are the ones you call when the chips are down and there aren’t any other options. The Karnermites are a recently discovered space colonizing species with rudimentary, but highly effective technology. Every bit resistant to EMPs and very resilient to a nuclear arsenal, but ballistic projectiles are very effective. Only the humans continued utilizing such wasteful ammunition. It’s a good thing too for the Fellarians.
Another new species that had been recently added to the Coalition of Galactic Allies. It’s also why no one stepped up to help them, they lacked the political bargaining power to ask for help. Of course, this didn’t sit right with the top brass of the UEA and suddenly there was a joint training exercise scheduled with the newly inducted Fellarians.
From the first Karnermite attack against human forces, the war was on. The CGA certainly had something to say about it, but their hands were tied by laws and treaties. Of course, none of the members would ever stand in the way of the humans and their war, but pretenses must be kept.
The general smiled as he watched the holomonitors display the advance of the Europa fleet. This was his moment to show Venus fleet how to fight a marshland war.
“The Karnies are firing their tarcannons at the leading line.”
“Have them use the C-O-2 bubbles sparingly and only when necessary.” The general took in the real-time movements of all the forces as they played out just like he’d hoped.
“Sir, Miami-6 squadron is reporting a non-combatant in the field.”
“Who’s out there?”
“He’s saying it’s an aerweoof.”
“A what?”
“It’s this planet’s version of a dog more or less. Docile timid creatures that are used as comfort pets for their children.”
“That’s someone’s pet out there?”
“It could be, sir.”
“Issue a cease-fire for the quadrant. Deploy the shield-maidens to create a phalanx. Send the bionic-runners to draw fire. Get a cargo boat out there and go rescue that pet.”
“Sir.”
Heads of state from the coalition watched with a morbid sense of duty as the war played out. Most never had a taste for battle, for them it was a necessary evil to protect their own. The humans perplexed them, but they never mistook the notion that it was better to have them as allies than enemies. Their thirst for war initially caught the coalition off guard considering the peaceful nature of their planets and the willingness to help with aid and supplies at a moment’s notice.
So, to see an entire force of pure war stop and come together to save a tiny creature was shocking and yet unsurprising as the duality of man can never be anticipated. No, it can only be observed. Over a million Karnermites perished that day and one aerweoof was rescued and reunited with its family.
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[WP]You have a genie bottle and make three wishes. For your third wish, you decide to restart the day, because your last two wishes turned out terrible. You wake up, buy the genie bottle again ,but the genie punches you in the eye as soon as you rub the lamp again.
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I bawled my eyes out. I had money and fame, but at the cost of my girlfriend’s life. I wished I could do things all over.
“I wish it is the beginning of the day again!” I shouted.
“Done,” said the genie, snapping his fingers.
***
I woke up on a happy day, under the smiling sun. *What day is it again? Oh ya, it’s Sally’s birthday.”
I needed the perfect gift.
I went to the bazaar, where people were yelling at each other and a sea of people moved in waves around me. I squeezed through mounds of people and found myself at one of the stalls.
My eyes were drawn to a bottle, sitting there on its throne. It was made of ruby, and had a diamond for its cap. It gleamed under the sun.
“Oh yes,” said the salesman. “Very rare, this. We found it in Morocco, hidden under a cave. You want it? I sell it to you, cheap.”
“Deal,” I said.
***
The bottle was a bit on the scruffier side, so I got some polish and a cloth to brighten it up a bit. But when I rubbed the lamp, a cloud of purple smoke appeared and a being came out.
Its skin was purple, and it was wearing a white turban. It was naked except for a loincloth around its waist.
“Welcome!” It cried. “I am Baljeet the Genie! I can make your wishes come true! Just say the word, and—“
It paused, studying me.
“Wait a minute…”
Then it socked me in my left eye. I rubbed it, moaning.
“What was that for?”
It cracked a grin. “My welcome gift. Just wanted to do it.”
My eye was throbbing black and blue, but I was too excited. Here was a genie, and I could do anything I wanted, wish anything I wanted.
“I wish I had money to buy bandages!”
Baljeet the Genie grinned, snapping its fingers. “Done!”
Suddenly the phone rang. I answered it to find Sally in hysterics.
“The bank just called!” She sobbed. “All my money is gone! It disappeared!”
I glared at the genie. “What?” It shrugged. “All that money must come from *somewhere*.”
“You’ll find it in your bank account. Just make a transfer! Easy simple!”
I sighed. “Can I be famous then?”
*Snap!*
A few minutes later there was the squeal of sirens. I glared at the genie again. “HOW DID YOU MAKE ME FAMOUS?”
“By killing your girlfriend!” Answered the genie cheerfully. “Better start packing your bags! You’re wanted for mass murder!”
I couldn’t help but sob. Why? I wish I never bought the bottle! Now I lost my girlfriend, my reputation, everything!
Unless I can restart the day. Then I’ll never see the bottle again!
“I wish for the day to begin anew!”
A mischievous smirk crossed the genie’s face.
“Done!”
*Snap.*
***
Not my best, but I felt like writing today. Join me at r/SimbaKingdom for more!
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I reeled back in pain, nearly toppling over the antique display behind me. The thrift store shopkeep looked over, startled.
"Uhh... You alright?"
"Yeah, just lost my balance..." I stammered out the meager excuse with a slight defensive smile. Once he turned back to his computer, I turned my attention to my assailant, evidently only visible to me. He was tall. No, he appeared tall. Height really has no bearing on a floating torso. He towered above me intentionally. His black goatee covered a vicious scowl. His full cheeks had turned red. His long hair floated back as if unaffected by gravity giving the illusion that he was even larger. His gaze pierced through me, originating from glowing ember eyes. They weren't like that last time. He placed a single finger on me as he pointed at my chest. The air was sucked from my lungs.
"I told you. 3 wishes." He lifted his pointing hand to gesture the number 3 inches from my face.
"I... I..."
"I told you at the very beginning. Rule number 1: You can't bring the dead back to life. Rule number 2: You can't violate a person's free will. Rule number 3: No WISHES THAT GIVE YOU MORE WISHES!"His roar was deafening. I frantically looked for some escape. Display shelf behind me; Genie in front; He'll stop me if I squeeze to the side. I looked to the shopkeep for rescue. He hadn't looked up.
"I thought... I thought that --"
"YOU THOUGHT! You thought. You thought that you had found some loophole to the rules."
"No, I--"
"You thought that you were smarter than the VERY BEING that created all of natural law. The being that created me?"
"I just--" My sentence was interrupted by a slap. My chest was heaving, and I was paralyzed as the genie leaned in until he could whisper in my ear.
"You know you almost had me fooled. I thought that maybe, for once, a human had learned a lesson in hubris. I thought that you saw you were unable to control this kind of power. That when you saw the terrible things you'd done, you had washed your hands of it. But you humans are all the same!" He slapped the lamp out of my hands. I hadn't realized I was still holding it.
"Leave. I don't want to see you ever again." Suddenly he vanished.
The shopkeeper sat at his desk, looking at me from over his glasses.
"If that's all you're going to buy, you need to leave. I don't have any time for crazies that talk to themselves and nearly break everything.
"I...I'm going." I slowly walked to the exit, still shaking. I left the lamp behind.
Edit: Formatting.
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[WP] You’re a soldier fighting in a brutal war. One day, during battle, as you are ready to slay an enemy, you’re suddenly teleported into a peaceful, green valley. You hear a voice from behind you: “My God, mommy! There’s another one!”.
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Shit. Fuck. What fresh hell was this. I dropped to the ground, trying to get what cover I could until I recovered my senses. I rubbed my eyes, felt along the ground. Nerve gas? Hallucinations before my death? It was a wonder I hadn’t been shot or stabbed yet, but it was coming if I couldn’t get my head straight.
“My God mommy! There’s another one!” said behind me.
I spun onto my back, gun shouldered and target in sights before I could think, trigger half depressed to shoot but…
It was a little girl? Maybe 12, in a white dress. Clean.
I stared at her, as she stared back at me, her eyes widening. Was she part of the visions?
She ran, over the crest of the hill and out of sight. Damn. What the hell does that mean? Was I gonna have a daughter if I didn’t die here? Fuck.
I closed my eyes, trying to sense anything that could get me oriented. The blue sky, the soft grass, they’re all fake. They must be. Grass couldn’t stand the chemical weapons and it was dusk five seconds ago.
Remember your chem training. Smell can’t be trusted, touch can, vision and hearing- can be iffy but should be okay. Fuck. Nothing. Fuck. Nothing. Fuck!
It’s just grass and quiet. It would be heaven if it were real.
Footsteps from over the hill, faint against the rustle of the grass. I tensed, even though they must be fake.
The girl came back, with an older man, maybe fifty. A chem burn on the right side of his face showing the clear outline of where goggles used to be. Goggles? Only the instructors had those burns, chem had become such a part of warfare we wore full-face now.
They stopped just before the top of the hill, and then the man walked towards me as the girl watched.
“At ease, ah, Corporal.” He said, glancing at my chest. “How are you feeling?”
I hesitated. He was part of the visions, but what he wasn’t? Hell to it. If I hadn’t been shot by now my buddies must have gotten me back, they can laugh at me talking to myself if they want.
“Glad to be alive, sir.” I responded. Better to be safe than sorry about his rank.
“Oh? Why’s that?” he replied, looking amused and curious.
“Got hit by some nerve gas. Thought I’d be dead by now, but I guess my buddies are dragging me back to camp.”
“Oh? You think this is a hallucination from chems?” he replied.
“Yes sir. Nearest grass is at least 500 klicks out. Getting from dusk to daylight like this would take going halfway around the world. Only option is chems.”
“Well, I understand why you think that.” he said, looking a bit glum and concerned. “You think you can come with me, get cleaned up? Since none of this is real.”
“No sir. Need to stay still to make it easier for my buddies to carry me.”
“Alright. We’ll be back in a bit. Don’t start shooting at whatever you see, y’hear? That’s an order.”
“Yes sir. Wouldn’t want to risk it through the chems.”
“Alright. See you in a bit Corporal.”
He walked back up the hill, leaving me to sit with my thoughts in the warm breeze. Y’know, for what might be my last minutes, this wasn’t so bad.
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I dropped my sword, sinking to my knees in the soft green grass. A few delicate white flowers had bloomed near my feet. The soft cheeps of birdsong graced my battle-worn ears. Where am I? What the hell happened?
Suddenly, a shrill squeak caught my attention, and I turned quickly to see a creature crouched in the field.
"My god, mommy! There's another one!" The fleshy pink thing shrieked, fat globs of tears leaking from its eyes as a pathetic line of snot trickled out of its nose. "Mommy! Help!"
"Wait-" I panted, but it came out a garbled, scratchy whisper. I could hear myself.. but.. upon hearing the creature speak, it sounded like a harsh, unfamiliar burst of noise.
I sat back, inching away from the creature. It mimicked my movements in a blind panic. I stopped. It stopped as well. I tilted my head. It tilted its head, wiping its nose with a fleshy pink paw. I recognised this creature, even studied its language. *Homo sapiens*. This was but a child. It had donned a frilly blue-and-periwinkle striped shirt and plump yellow trousers.
"Where am I?" I mumbled, yet again surprised by the distorted, shrieking growl that escaped my jaws. The sapien squeaked. I picked at a fang curiously, flexing my claws.
"Mommy?" The sapien whispered hoarsely.
I wracked my brain for the translation. *Mommy* meant a guardian. A grown homo sapien. That would be a problem. I scanned my surroundings, searching for this adult sapien. The sky shone a soft cerulean blue, dappled with fluffy white pads that meandered across the atmosphere lazily. *Surveillance or recon ships? They aren't well camouflaged at all... unless they're supposed to be disguised as something else.*
I pointed a claw at one of the ships, tilting my head. If I tried to speak again, the sapien would probably scream louder, and I'd be in deep shit. I emphasised the tilting of my head until it looked up.
"Sky?" It whispered softly. I shook my head. That word was different.. it just meant The Great Dome. "..Cloud?"
There. That was the word. Cloud. Clouds. Cloudy. The only clouds I'd seen so far were the crackling storms above the main battlefield. I shuddered, pulling my knees up to my chest as I remembered the left flank being struck by a bright beam of light from one of the clouds. I was eager to forget the smell of singed flesh. I hated myself for showing weakness and immediately uncurled my legs.
"Friend?" It mumbled, inching closer and holding out one of its paws in a gesture. It looked like a sign of weakness, exposing its chest.
Friend. A companion. A partner. A "buddy", as the sapien slang called it.
"No," I rasped. Its face contorted, stretching its maw into a shape like a U, reaching out both hands in an even bigger sign of weakness. I don't think it understood.
"Friends!" It mewled joyously as it cradled its fragile body against my shiny chestplate. I thought about how it would feel to crush its ribs between my hands, the feel of it's shiny pink flesh bulging out from between my claws.
But that would have to wait.
Being this sapien's companion could surely have benefits.
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[WP] Your neighbors below you run a cult, doing sacrifices to gain favor and rewards from their dark god, the issue is that you live just close enough that the god is accidentally rewarding you too.
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They were chanting again.
"Pro-fer Mag-num Prin-ci-pem Inferrrrrr-num..."
At least their cadance has become more harmonized. Last week it was all over the place. I could let this one lull me back to sleep. And they usually only last for thirty minutes. Yeah, this is not too bad.
**"Bow to me, mortals!! For Asmeodus is here for your sacrifice!!"**
You have got to be kidding me! I peel the pillow off my head and squint at the large figure roaring in my bed room. Three heads; I am pretty sure one is a human, one is a bull, and one is a sheep? Did the human/man face just blow fire on my ceiling!?! OH HELLS NO!
I jump out of bed, all traces of sleep gone. "KNOCK IT OFF! If you mess my room up I am going to slap the taste out your mouth!"
The scaled being punches a fist into the wall. **"You dare threaten me, you insig-"**
I am across the room and dispense a hard smack to each face before it finishes talking. A shocked expression crosses its human face and I assume its others as well. I point to the ground. "Sit down and modulate your voice."
It slowly lowers itself to the ground while rubbing its cheeks. "I felt that.... how did I feel that?"
"Better," I say. "Now wait here while I go figure out what happened. Don't go clomping around my place. I just had the floors done."
It does not take me long to walk downstairs and bang on the door. Yet it takes minutes of thumping before it finally opens and I am rudely greeted.
"What!.... Oh, Mr. Pentagast.... We are actually kind of busy. It would be better if you-"
"Shut up Garry and listen. You always pay the rent on time so I have put up with a lot from you. I have overlooked the animal sacrifices, the large gatherings of hooded people, the drunken orgies, even that virgin sacrifice last weekend." His face went extra pale after hearing the last one. "But I will not put up with a poorly done summoning that lands a Grand Prince Demon in my bed room. Now invite me in and let me look at your transition circle."
"Uh... umm..." He stutters as his eyeballs bounce around like he is trying to do a hard division problem.
"Garry," I pinch my nose. "If you don't let me in I will drag Modius down here by one of his ears and throw him in here. Let him slaughter you all. My floors be damned. Then I will evict you and keep the deposit." Hmm, he could go paler. "Now say, 'Please come in Mr. Pendtagast'."
"Please... come in Mrrrr...Mrrr"
"Good enough." I barge through. The place is filled to the brim with the rest of the cult. All in nice matching black robes. The large dinning room has been cleared and there is a circle of glyphs written with chalk on the hard wood floor. A circle that has clearly been done by multiple people. With multiple mistakes.
"Who did this part? Just raise your hand." One of the many shadowy figures in kitchen raises his hand.
"Ah Craig, come here. I need you to correct your reinforcement glyphs. Use an Inverted Dark Gamma, not an Inferno Aligned Delta. And who did this mess here?"
Nobody budges until Garry's wife, Melinda, elbows him and he starts to tentatively move his arm.
"Of course... you need to totally redo the wreathing. You need to use Abramelin's algorithm not the Greater Solomin's. And the inner stabilizer... is not terrible. Who did this part?"
This time it is Melinda who steps forward. "If you enscribe the Hermetic Order Linkage on your defining lines it would greatly reduce astral fluctations on the entire circle. Now who did this atrocious directional intent..."
I realize only Melinda has taken up chalk and started to follow my directions. The others are staring at me with confusion. In fact, not a single other person in the room has anything resembling recognition in their eyes.
"On second thought, from now on only Melinda is allowed to draw summoning circles on the property. If any of you want to practice, and mess up, you do it at your own home. Melinda give me some paper and a pen. I will write it all down for you. But don't think this advice is free. I don't give free consultations." I shake a finger at the group, although I concentrate on Garry and Melinda. "I expect double for next months rent."
It does not take me long to write out the necessary changes. I even sketch a few diagrams to make it easier for Melinda.
"Now," I say as I finish the last lines of the directions. "I know how you people operate. Especially you Garry. Tomorrow morning you are going to become angry about this. And since there are not too many people who can see me, let alone pay me rent, you are going to think you have something to hold over my head. Something you can use to gauge me. A good way to get revenge."
I stare down Garry. "But I will have you know there are plenty of things I am willing to do if threatened. Not least of which is let one of the two werewolf clans move in. No matter how much they stink. And drool. And drink. And dig holes..."
"Ghosts can smell?" Craig whispered.
"Oh by the holy book, I am a spirit. Not a ghost. You should know this Craig. You have been involved with one cult or another for the last thirty years. Not too mention you have a PhD." My head whips around and I look at the wall separating the dinning room from the kitchen. "This includes you Janey Brooks! Don't even think of sneaking out through the kitchen window! That is right." My gaze goes over everyone. "I know who each of you are and where each of you live. Keep that in mind next time you do a half ass summoning which lands your subject in my bed room. Now I am going back upstairs and I expect old Modius to be re-summoned out of my bedroom in the next thirty minutes."
I am not so subtly grumbling and swearing as I march to the exit. But as I feel the cool iron of the door handle I realize I need to take a breath and not end things like this. If only for my own sake. Believe it or not, I have really been trying to be less of of a jerk. So I turn back around.
"Just so you know your chanting has gotten a lot better. It is actually some of the better chanting I have heard in years. And I have heard a bunch. So... yeah. Keep up the good work." Awkward and lame. The perfect way to close the evening. But at least I tried.
"Mr. Pentagast," Melinda says. "Thank you. For the help with the summoning. Really."
I nod and then look down. "Well, alright. Good night. And remember I expect him gone in thirty minutes."
It does not take me long to arrive back in my bed room.
"Sooo," begins Asmodeus as I walk in, "I can stay in this spot for a few decades before my presence starts to deteriorate the surroundings. Which does not really bother me but you seemed very concerned about this mortal dwelling. And I would prefer not to be slapped because of my uncontrollable effects-"
"Modi," I interrupt while curling back up in bed "be quiet and just wait thirty minutes."
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The numbers on the digital clock are blurry at first. Then, a few seconds go by, the muffled sounds woke me up again, this time it's 3am. Wiping the drool from my lips, I sit up.
Glubba, Lubba, Lubba, Dumbala? As in Child's play dumbala? The muffled sounds that wake me up annually are at best guess some sort of chant.
Sirens, barking dogs and other sounds of a city that never sleeps add a background rhythm to the steady, hypnotic chant. I wonder what it will be this time, who they've taken this time.
The crisp breeze of winter does little to numb the nerves writhing in my chest. Linda and Dave had seemed so, well, normal. They were the kind of neighbors any newbie to the big city would love to meet. I swallowed hard at this last thought, they were the type you loved to meet unless you became their guest.
The bathrooms in this building must have been designed by a master creep as all the grates lead to each other's bathroom. Pulling out the stuffing I use to secure my privacy I looked down, the chanting met my prying eye with clarity.
A beautifully curvy woman sat bound in a rickety wooden chair. "Please, please let it not be too much" I whispered to myself. I begged any god that would listen. What would this woman have to give up to enrich my neighbors, enrich me?
Looking up, I noticed my reflection in the mirror. It had been two weeks since the cancer had mysteriously disappeared. My face had grown fuller, the dark circles had almost disappeared. They had asked for eternal youth, whatever they were chanting to had acquiesced.
The woman in the chair rocked from side to side, my gut wrenched. The sound of foot steps made her stop. Pushing my face closer I watched. My neighbors came in, speaking in gentle tones. They were reassuring her that although things would change for her, she would be okay.
Dave pulled his phone from his pocket, "it's in there, we are set for life". Linda wrapped Dave in a hug, a " thank you for saving my life" kind of hug. My neighbors walked closer to their guest, speaking again in gentle tones. The gag in her mouth reduced her yells to whimpers.
Slowly at first, the woman began to get thinner and thinner, until the clothes that had framed her beautiful figure hung like rags. Her frightening whimpers grew louder as Dave and Linda tried to reassure her. She only lost a couple of pounds, that's not so bad.
Then, her curls began to fall, one at a time until the woman's egg shaped head lulled to one side. She had passed out, they always did. In a few minutes she'd wake up in her bed with no memory and no explanation as to why her hair would not grow back and why she couldn't gain weight, no matter how hard she tried.
Dave and Linda held each other tight, I sat up. A yawn stole over me. I shoved the stuffing back into the grate. On the way back to my bed I caught another glimpse of myself. I looked different, I felt different.
I felt new, as if I'd never been kicked out of my parents house, I'd never gotten sick, fear and anxiety no longer knew my name. I felt free, the burdens of life lifted from my shoulders. I breathed in fully, deeply. Closing the window and getting back into my bed, I rolled over in delight of this new joy I felt for life.
Slowly drifting off to sleep I heard foot steps outside my apartment door. " We asked that we would never have another care in the world! We hope you like it!" So they had known that I had gotten things too. My eyelids were heavy as I finally fell into the sleep of the unbothered, the serene, the sleep of a person who no longer knew how to care.
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[WP] Your neighbors below you run a cult, doing sacrifices to gain favor and rewards from their dark god, the issue is that you live just close enough that the god is accidentally rewarding you too.
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They were chanting again.
"Pro-fer Mag-num Prin-ci-pem Inferrrrrr-num..."
At least their cadance has become more harmonized. Last week it was all over the place. I could let this one lull me back to sleep. And they usually only last for thirty minutes. Yeah, this is not too bad.
**"Bow to me, mortals!! For Asmeodus is here for your sacrifice!!"**
You have got to be kidding me! I peel the pillow off my head and squint at the large figure roaring in my bed room. Three heads; I am pretty sure one is a human, one is a bull, and one is a sheep? Did the human/man face just blow fire on my ceiling!?! OH HELLS NO!
I jump out of bed, all traces of sleep gone. "KNOCK IT OFF! If you mess my room up I am going to slap the taste out your mouth!"
The scaled being punches a fist into the wall. **"You dare threaten me, you insig-"**
I am across the room and dispense a hard smack to each face before it finishes talking. A shocked expression crosses its human face and I assume its others as well. I point to the ground. "Sit down and modulate your voice."
It slowly lowers itself to the ground while rubbing its cheeks. "I felt that.... how did I feel that?"
"Better," I say. "Now wait here while I go figure out what happened. Don't go clomping around my place. I just had the floors done."
It does not take me long to walk downstairs and bang on the door. Yet it takes minutes of thumping before it finally opens and I am rudely greeted.
"What!.... Oh, Mr. Pentagast.... We are actually kind of busy. It would be better if you-"
"Shut up Garry and listen. You always pay the rent on time so I have put up with a lot from you. I have overlooked the animal sacrifices, the large gatherings of hooded people, the drunken orgies, even that virgin sacrifice last weekend." His face went extra pale after hearing the last one. "But I will not put up with a poorly done summoning that lands a Grand Prince Demon in my bed room. Now invite me in and let me look at your transition circle."
"Uh... umm..." He stutters as his eyeballs bounce around like he is trying to do a hard division problem.
"Garry," I pinch my nose. "If you don't let me in I will drag Modius down here by one of his ears and throw him in here. Let him slaughter you all. My floors be damned. Then I will evict you and keep the deposit." Hmm, he could go paler. "Now say, 'Please come in Mr. Pendtagast'."
"Please... come in Mrrrr...Mrrr"
"Good enough." I barge through. The place is filled to the brim with the rest of the cult. All in nice matching black robes. The large dinning room has been cleared and there is a circle of glyphs written with chalk on the hard wood floor. A circle that has clearly been done by multiple people. With multiple mistakes.
"Who did this part? Just raise your hand." One of the many shadowy figures in kitchen raises his hand.
"Ah Craig, come here. I need you to correct your reinforcement glyphs. Use an Inverted Dark Gamma, not an Inferno Aligned Delta. And who did this mess here?"
Nobody budges until Garry's wife, Melinda, elbows him and he starts to tentatively move his arm.
"Of course... you need to totally redo the wreathing. You need to use Abramelin's algorithm not the Greater Solomin's. And the inner stabilizer... is not terrible. Who did this part?"
This time it is Melinda who steps forward. "If you enscribe the Hermetic Order Linkage on your defining lines it would greatly reduce astral fluctations on the entire circle. Now who did this atrocious directional intent..."
I realize only Melinda has taken up chalk and started to follow my directions. The others are staring at me with confusion. In fact, not a single other person in the room has anything resembling recognition in their eyes.
"On second thought, from now on only Melinda is allowed to draw summoning circles on the property. If any of you want to practice, and mess up, you do it at your own home. Melinda give me some paper and a pen. I will write it all down for you. But don't think this advice is free. I don't give free consultations." I shake a finger at the group, although I concentrate on Garry and Melinda. "I expect double for next months rent."
It does not take me long to write out the necessary changes. I even sketch a few diagrams to make it easier for Melinda.
"Now," I say as I finish the last lines of the directions. "I know how you people operate. Especially you Garry. Tomorrow morning you are going to become angry about this. And since there are not too many people who can see me, let alone pay me rent, you are going to think you have something to hold over my head. Something you can use to gauge me. A good way to get revenge."
I stare down Garry. "But I will have you know there are plenty of things I am willing to do if threatened. Not least of which is let one of the two werewolf clans move in. No matter how much they stink. And drool. And drink. And dig holes..."
"Ghosts can smell?" Craig whispered.
"Oh by the holy book, I am a spirit. Not a ghost. You should know this Craig. You have been involved with one cult or another for the last thirty years. Not too mention you have a PhD." My head whips around and I look at the wall separating the dinning room from the kitchen. "This includes you Janey Brooks! Don't even think of sneaking out through the kitchen window! That is right." My gaze goes over everyone. "I know who each of you are and where each of you live. Keep that in mind next time you do a half ass summoning which lands your subject in my bed room. Now I am going back upstairs and I expect old Modius to be re-summoned out of my bedroom in the next thirty minutes."
I am not so subtly grumbling and swearing as I march to the exit. But as I feel the cool iron of the door handle I realize I need to take a breath and not end things like this. If only for my own sake. Believe it or not, I have really been trying to be less of of a jerk. So I turn back around.
"Just so you know your chanting has gotten a lot better. It is actually some of the better chanting I have heard in years. And I have heard a bunch. So... yeah. Keep up the good work." Awkward and lame. The perfect way to close the evening. But at least I tried.
"Mr. Pentagast," Melinda says. "Thank you. For the help with the summoning. Really."
I nod and then look down. "Well, alright. Good night. And remember I expect him gone in thirty minutes."
It does not take me long to arrive back in my bed room.
"Sooo," begins Asmodeus as I walk in, "I can stay in this spot for a few decades before my presence starts to deteriorate the surroundings. Which does not really bother me but you seemed very concerned about this mortal dwelling. And I would prefer not to be slapped because of my uncontrollable effects-"
"Modi," I interrupt while curling back up in bed "be quiet and just wait thirty minutes."
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I wake up with a throbbing headache and weird noises coming through my vents. I look at the alarm clock ... 3:00 AM in flashing red lights. Are you f-ing kidding me?
I throw a pillow over my head and try to go back to bed, with anger in my chest. This isn't the first the time the people below me have been loud and obnoxious deep into the night. Their wild parties day in and day out, I can't take it anymore. In just a few days, I'll get my promotion and I'll be able to leave these crappy neighbors. As I'm falling asleep I think in my head, *"I hope they just die"*
6:00AM my alarm clock goes off and like a normal person, I zombie off as I get ready for work. It's an exciting day today, I'll finally be getting the promotion I've been working hard for the past 6 months for. humming along, I get into my car and drive along the same route I do every day... As I pass the first intersection, a child appears out of nowhere and as I swerved to try to avoid the child, I accidentally run into a school bus, both vehicles flip onto their side and catch fire. Screams can be heard everywhere and as I blank out, all I can hear is "sacrifice accepted...wishes has been granted"
......
I wake up with a throbbing headache and weird noises coming through my vents. I look at the alarm clock ... 3:00 AM in flashing red lights. Are you f-ing kidding me?
I throw a pillow over my head and try to go back to bed, with anger in my chest. This isn't the first the time the people below me have been loud and obnoxious deep into the night. Their wild parties day in and day out, I can't take it anymore. In just a few days, I'll get my promotion and I'll be able to leave these crappy neighbors. As I'm falling asleep I think in my head, *"I hope they just die"*
but wait. What's going on? Deja Vu? I sit up sweating and unable to process this weird feeling. Then I remembered the flaming deadly car accident, my face pales and I vomit all over myself and everything just goes silent.
​
============================================================
\*WISH CONFLICT DETECTED\*
\*both top worshippers requested the death of the other, they have the same sacrifice level\*
\*processing...\*
\*unable to process\*
\*escalating to higher power\*
\*processing...\*
\*parallel timelines proposed\*
\*not enough sacrifice power, rescinding proposal\*
\*sending both worshippers back to gather more sacrifices, worshippers have 72 hours to gather as much sacrifice power as possible\*
\*winner\* \*takes\* \*all\*
============================================================
6:00AM my alarm clock goes off and I wake up to the sour smell of vomit. I think back to what I can remember and my face pales. It's all a dream right? after settling myself down, I hop into the shower to get ready for work. I keep telling myself it's all a dream but I just can't shake the feeling that it's more then that.
I get out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror, as I do, I notice a mark on my chest. It's a chart with two columns 204 and 104, below each of them I see a 70,000. As I look closer images appear in my head, it looks like a breakdown of the 70,000 number for each column. Under 104, I see scores of animals, (cats, dogs, birds) and under 204 I see the faces of 70 different children. "NO WAY, it wasn't a dream? I must be hallucinating, I must be..."
"BANG, BANG, BANG" all of a sudden I hear gunshots ring through the apartment complex and the 70,000 under 104 has gone to 71,000 and the a new image pop up in my head.... It's one of my a-hole neighbors who live in unit... 104...
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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Just days after I turned 24, I was given the diagnosis no one ever wants to hear. I distinctly remember the lump in my throat that formed as I heard the news. I remember the first tear as it slowly streaked down my face. I remember the sheer grief and despair wash over me instantly.
I was given just a few months to live. The doctors told me I'd be lucky to make it to the end of the year, but even I knew that it was a pipe dream. I was dying.
My parents were devastated. It hurt me to hear their sobs over the phone as I broke the news to them. I'd never heard my dad cry before that day. He was tougher than nails, and yet one simple sentence was enough to break the iron shell he wore.
That night, I cried. I cried until the tears stopped flowing from my eyes. I didn't want to die. There was so much I wanted to do, so many places I wanted to see. I wanted to settle down and marry one day. I wanted to have children, I wanted to name my firstborn Austin, after my dad. I wanted to die surrounded by loved ones, when I was old and had lived a life I was proud of. But there was nothing I could do anymore. The scariest part was learning that I couldn't prevent it, or prolong my life in any way. I was going to die, no matter what.
For weeks, I refused to leave the house other than to go shopping for groceries. I spent my days in my room, doing anything I could to try and take my mind off of it. Friends would come over every so often, trying to comfort me in any way they could. But most of my time was spent alone, constantly dwelling on one thing as I grew sicker and sicker.
Two months after my diagnosis, I contemplated taking my own life. I held a bottle full of whatever pills I could find in my cabinets, ready to down them all at a moments notice. I ended up staring at that bottle for hours, never able to conjure the strength to open the lid. After 5 hours, I tossed the bottle in the garbage and crawled into bed, huddling in a corner, wrapped up in blankets, and cried until my tired eyes gave up, and I fell asleep.
I awoke the next day feeling slightly better. My legs weren't as weak, my arms a little less shaky. I felt a tiny bit of energy balled up inside of me; not much, but enough that I decided to take a walk for the first time in 3 months.
That walk was what I needed. Feeling the cold air against my skin, seeing the beautifully colored leaves on the ground, put me a little at ease. I think I smiled that day, a small grin to myself. A reminder to myself that I could feel something. As I sat on a bench in the local park, overlooking a lake as clear as crystal, I took a look at my phone. The date read "March 3rd, 2022." *Odd*, I thought. I hadn't paid much attention to the date in a while, but I was pretty sure the third was yesterday. Or maybe I was wrong, and my memory wasn't correct. I decided on that. There's no way it was the third twice in a row. That'd be absurd.
I went to bed that night feeling the happiest I'd been in a while. Like I said, it wasn't much, but it was enough to remind myself that I was capable of feeling happiness in any capacity.
I woke up the next day feeling just a little bit better. Baby steps, but it was something. I looked at my phone. Once again, the date read "March 3rd, 2022." That was weird. Maybe my phone was acting up. Except it wasn't. The date on my laptop agreed that it was the 3rd. Same for my tablet, the kitchen clock, the news channel.
*Maybe I'm just going crazy,* I thought. And I went on with my day, saw people I hadn't seen in ages, and enjoyed being able to wear a smile on my face without it being fake.
The next day, it was also the third.
And the next day.
And the next day.
And so on, and so forth.
The first thing I did was visit my parents and tell them I love them. They broke down in tears when they saw me, dressed in a beanie and sweatpants and a hoodie. We enjoyed a warm, home-cooked dinner, and talked about all the great memories we had. Afterwards I went back to my apartment. And when I cried myself to sleep, it was not out of despair, but pure joy.
The next day, I went to a party with my friends. We had a great time, drinking and laughing and dancing and singing. I left the party with my friends in an Uber, singing karaoke songs at the top of our lungs with the driver.
The day after that, I visited the Empire State Building. I laughed with joy as I stood atop the massive skyscraper, the wind whipping at my hair. I peered down at the cars on the street, which seemed like little ants crawling along on the ground.
For the next . . . oh, I don't know. It could've been hundreds of years. Every day, I did something new, met someone new. I went on a date with a cute girl. I lost my virginity. I kissed a guy while high at a party. I finished the LEGO set I'd kept in my closet for years.
And one day, possibly thousands of replays later, I had a strange dream. A silhouette stood before me. It spoke in a voice that sounded incredibly familiar, but one I couldn't recognize. He asked me a question.
"Do you want to go back?" He said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Do you want to go back? Do you want to return to your normal life, or do you want to stay in this loop, to live forever?"
"I-" I stopped myself. I didn't know what I wanted.
In this loop, I'd experienced everything I'd ever wanted to. I'd pretty much finished my bucket list. There was no reason to stay.
But if I left this loop, I'd go back to dying. I'd still have only a few months to live. The cancer inside of me would still catch up, and I would never get to live a full life.
"I . . . I want to go back." I said. "Please."
He nodded.
When I woke up, I checked the date.
March 4th, 2022.
I knew I was dying. I knew that I only had a few more months to live.
Nonetheless, I smiled as I looked out the window, and felt more alive than I had ever been.
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I lay on my bed on new year's eve. This year was a failure too, I didn't earn shit. I didn't achieve anything of significance, couldn't get a girlfriend, my physical health was a joke. I wouldn't be able to run a mile even if my life depended on it. But the thing that bothered me the most that I was alone. New year's eve is a bad time to be alone because you know everyone is else is having fun, except you. It feels like an extra special 'fuck you' from God.
Then it happened, a circular portal with grayish light flowing from inside. " Man where is my phone I should record this", I thought to myself. But light started to dim before I had even moved, thinking it was my last shot... I jumped.
I woke up with my alarm blaring. I was in my old apartment, it was the first day of 2018. Wait, didn't 2018 end just yesterday, then I remembered the portal. I thought this a new opportunity presented to me by God. I corrected every mistake I made. Got in the gym from the start of the year around June I was looking good, feeling even better. Even though I had retained only a few memories of this year, but I still had my skills. Started learning about the money market, got a high paying job by impressing interviewers of a major financial corporation. I felt so good. Around October I finally gathered my courage and asked grace out, and she said YES. I was over the moon. As December rolled around I was happy and content with everything I had done. I spent my Christmas with Grace at my place she was going to her family during the new years. On new year's eve the portal appeared again, for a brief moment I thought of staying still I jumped.
I woke up with my alarm blaring. I had a beer belly and it was the start of 2018 again. I thought of calling Grace but she won't know me, she will think I was some creep. I missed her a lot, but the thought that I could just ask her out again eased me. I picked my gym habits and paired with healthy eating, I gained my physique quickly. This time I had a choice, should I just go to interview now or should I learn something else. I was in my twenties, so my family financially supported me anyway. I wanted to learn something creative, so I picked up a guitar and started trying. I couldn't ask Grace out till august as she was still in her previous relationship, around October when I asked she happily agreed. But my relationship with grace was not as good as before, she couldn't surprise me. It was still pretty content relationship. At the end of year I stayed at my home alone waiting for the portal, as soon as it came I was in.
My music skills weren't much this year, fuck this will take a lot of time. I just didn't ask out grace this year it just wasn't worth it. I dated a lot of different girls. For years I put everything I had in music I learned rap, pop, metal, you name it I got it. Anytime I wanted a some money I would just pop in a studio and make 3-4 tracks and put them online, around 2 months later I would have a hefty paycheck ready for me.
This became a thing for me, I would start a career take a few years honing the craft, achieve a peak position like winning a Grammy or Oscar and then leave that shit. I still retained the skill, but I was nobody after the start of the year, that's why, I always liked first 4 months of the year.
I learned everything I wanted to learn-music, dancing, creative writing, directing movies, paragliding, mountain climbing, painting, firearm training, physical combat expertise. I had sex with every celebrity that I wanted to have sex with and they were alive of course. I did some job as electrician, plumbing, clerk, accountant to the CEO. I learned languages spoken in 25 countries. Visited nearly every location on this earth. This was so dope, I kept jumping through the portal every time.
My mind wandered after 300ish years, if it was gonna be fine anyway, why shouldn't I do drugs? I did every drug I could get my hands on but I was careful with it, I didn't know what was going to happen if I OD. That was the best time, but it also came with a lot of struggles. I didn't get the respect that I had commanded usually as higher positions in skills or power, people don't like an addict who can sing or do anything. I quit after 22 years, quitting was not a problem for me as I didn't go through physical retaliation from the body to change.
Going by the same logic with drugs I joined the mob. The only thing I had to was not getting killed. I was very good with guns I easily climbed the ranks and became favorite henchman. One time things got too much out of hand and police were given shoot and sight order for me. I kept to myself till end of the year, never jumped a portal that fast. I started to like killing bad people, it felt horrible at first, but slowly I started liking it so I joined a military and got deployed. I did that for a couple of years and that was enough of an experience for me. Seeing suffering made me empathize with people.
I started to learn things that would actually help people. I worked in charities and food shelters. I talked with people who are in power and people who needed help from people in power.I learned the oppression that hid from common people. Deciding there is a too much lack of understanding between these two classes of people. I didn't jump this time.
A gentle stroke on the back broke my train of thought.
"What are we doing honey, we are gonna be late hurry up, " said grace sounding nervous but excited.
I hastily started to get ready for my swearing in ceremony.
(I will appreciate your thought and remarks)
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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Just days after I turned 24, I was given the diagnosis no one ever wants to hear. I distinctly remember the lump in my throat that formed as I heard the news. I remember the first tear as it slowly streaked down my face. I remember the sheer grief and despair wash over me instantly.
I was given just a few months to live. The doctors told me I'd be lucky to make it to the end of the year, but even I knew that it was a pipe dream. I was dying.
My parents were devastated. It hurt me to hear their sobs over the phone as I broke the news to them. I'd never heard my dad cry before that day. He was tougher than nails, and yet one simple sentence was enough to break the iron shell he wore.
That night, I cried. I cried until the tears stopped flowing from my eyes. I didn't want to die. There was so much I wanted to do, so many places I wanted to see. I wanted to settle down and marry one day. I wanted to have children, I wanted to name my firstborn Austin, after my dad. I wanted to die surrounded by loved ones, when I was old and had lived a life I was proud of. But there was nothing I could do anymore. The scariest part was learning that I couldn't prevent it, or prolong my life in any way. I was going to die, no matter what.
For weeks, I refused to leave the house other than to go shopping for groceries. I spent my days in my room, doing anything I could to try and take my mind off of it. Friends would come over every so often, trying to comfort me in any way they could. But most of my time was spent alone, constantly dwelling on one thing as I grew sicker and sicker.
Two months after my diagnosis, I contemplated taking my own life. I held a bottle full of whatever pills I could find in my cabinets, ready to down them all at a moments notice. I ended up staring at that bottle for hours, never able to conjure the strength to open the lid. After 5 hours, I tossed the bottle in the garbage and crawled into bed, huddling in a corner, wrapped up in blankets, and cried until my tired eyes gave up, and I fell asleep.
I awoke the next day feeling slightly better. My legs weren't as weak, my arms a little less shaky. I felt a tiny bit of energy balled up inside of me; not much, but enough that I decided to take a walk for the first time in 3 months.
That walk was what I needed. Feeling the cold air against my skin, seeing the beautifully colored leaves on the ground, put me a little at ease. I think I smiled that day, a small grin to myself. A reminder to myself that I could feel something. As I sat on a bench in the local park, overlooking a lake as clear as crystal, I took a look at my phone. The date read "March 3rd, 2022." *Odd*, I thought. I hadn't paid much attention to the date in a while, but I was pretty sure the third was yesterday. Or maybe I was wrong, and my memory wasn't correct. I decided on that. There's no way it was the third twice in a row. That'd be absurd.
I went to bed that night feeling the happiest I'd been in a while. Like I said, it wasn't much, but it was enough to remind myself that I was capable of feeling happiness in any capacity.
I woke up the next day feeling just a little bit better. Baby steps, but it was something. I looked at my phone. Once again, the date read "March 3rd, 2022." That was weird. Maybe my phone was acting up. Except it wasn't. The date on my laptop agreed that it was the 3rd. Same for my tablet, the kitchen clock, the news channel.
*Maybe I'm just going crazy,* I thought. And I went on with my day, saw people I hadn't seen in ages, and enjoyed being able to wear a smile on my face without it being fake.
The next day, it was also the third.
And the next day.
And the next day.
And so on, and so forth.
The first thing I did was visit my parents and tell them I love them. They broke down in tears when they saw me, dressed in a beanie and sweatpants and a hoodie. We enjoyed a warm, home-cooked dinner, and talked about all the great memories we had. Afterwards I went back to my apartment. And when I cried myself to sleep, it was not out of despair, but pure joy.
The next day, I went to a party with my friends. We had a great time, drinking and laughing and dancing and singing. I left the party with my friends in an Uber, singing karaoke songs at the top of our lungs with the driver.
The day after that, I visited the Empire State Building. I laughed with joy as I stood atop the massive skyscraper, the wind whipping at my hair. I peered down at the cars on the street, which seemed like little ants crawling along on the ground.
For the next . . . oh, I don't know. It could've been hundreds of years. Every day, I did something new, met someone new. I went on a date with a cute girl. I lost my virginity. I kissed a guy while high at a party. I finished the LEGO set I'd kept in my closet for years.
And one day, possibly thousands of replays later, I had a strange dream. A silhouette stood before me. It spoke in a voice that sounded incredibly familiar, but one I couldn't recognize. He asked me a question.
"Do you want to go back?" He said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Do you want to go back? Do you want to return to your normal life, or do you want to stay in this loop, to live forever?"
"I-" I stopped myself. I didn't know what I wanted.
In this loop, I'd experienced everything I'd ever wanted to. I'd pretty much finished my bucket list. There was no reason to stay.
But if I left this loop, I'd go back to dying. I'd still have only a few months to live. The cancer inside of me would still catch up, and I would never get to live a full life.
"I . . . I want to go back." I said. "Please."
He nodded.
When I woke up, I checked the date.
March 4th, 2022.
I knew I was dying. I knew that I only had a few more months to live.
Nonetheless, I smiled as I looked out the window, and felt more alive than I had ever been.
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I like looking at the sunset. It feels viscerally human. To look at the star that gives us life, caresses our cheek with its warmth. It is the only star I never grew bored of. One constant, that shames me with its timelessness. I see it as a parent, who wakes me up with a kiss every morning and bids me to sleep in the evening. It is the only thing I feel a kinship to anymore.
How long must a human live to shed his humanity. Like a snake I have shed a skin of me every few loops, until what remained was unrecognizable. I am a city, build on top of a city, that used to have a museum where philosophers debated the Ship of Theseus.
The Moebius was to unlock our full potential. But perhaps humans do not have one. We live, we learn, we teach, we die, we are remembered, we are forgotten. I have learned, that there is a limit to what can be taught, because there is a limit to what a man can see, imagine and express. I set out to read all the books, after ten thousand books, no other offered a thought or even sentence I haven't seen, it broke my heart.
I learned languages, all of them to find something more. Different words, same thoughts. There must have been a man who said something for the first time. But if he was forgotten, did he live at all? Masters of thought and spoken words celebrated for their genius, just repeating thoughts written on a clay tablets millennia before, written by a forgotten men, of forgotten civilizations during forgotten time. Did they steal it? Thought of it on their own? Does a light that has been relit shine differently?
I broke it and lived, I will fix it and die. Tomorrow I will wake, flare and disappear. Should I teach? So much progress, to gain just by showing the connections lost to the noise. But it will be but a spark in the endless void. I would stand next to Plato, then stand alone, then disappear, light will go out, until relit by other.
Soon only the sun will remember a face which greeted it more then other, I shed a last human tear closed my eyes and stopped the dream.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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Have you ever sat near your window pane and listened to a storm rage violently outside? Hearing the army of water pellets storm your roof before calming down and slowly retreating into your gutter. And, most importantly, have you ever waited with your breath held tight for a silent flash of light to tear open the blackness of the night, before quickly leaving to fetch its older brother, thunder, which then rattles your eardrums and sends a cool shiver down your spine. I miss that feeling dearly. With all of my empty heart. That was what made life special: the moments in between. The moments where you weren’t sure when the lighting would crack next or when you’d breathe your last breath. You weren’t sure when you would hold your child for the final time or when would be the next time you’d hear their bubbly laugh. I always cherished the laugh but I only now realise that the moments in between the laughs and the lighting were what made them so special.
So, as I write this note, I hope that whomever finds it will realise they need to stop and enjoy the in between moments just that little bit more. For in the parts of life that hurt, the ones that relieve are hiding, just out of reach. I want them to know that just before I do what I’m about to do, I, for the first time in a long time and for the last time in my life, will not know what will happen next. And, before I jump from the wet, slippery ledge into the street of flashing lights and honking horns below me, I will cherish every water pellet that seeps into my clothes as I conduct the storm’s symphony with perfect precision, signalling every beat of thunder and lightning off by heart.
But, they should not lament my death. I have done things others would only dream of, learning every skill possible and meeting every person imaginable. My only mistake was being too greedy with the extra time this loop had given me so that I never stopped to sit with the painful moments so that they could be contrasted with the delightful ones. The in between moments that made life worth living. But, at least I have this one last cheque to cash. Will I wake up in my bed at the start of the loop again, or will this all finally be over. Who knows? Not me.
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I like looking at the sunset. It feels viscerally human. To look at the star that gives us life, caresses our cheek with its warmth. It is the only star I never grew bored of. One constant, that shames me with its timelessness. I see it as a parent, who wakes me up with a kiss every morning and bids me to sleep in the evening. It is the only thing I feel a kinship to anymore.
How long must a human live to shed his humanity. Like a snake I have shed a skin of me every few loops, until what remained was unrecognizable. I am a city, build on top of a city, that used to have a museum where philosophers debated the Ship of Theseus.
The Moebius was to unlock our full potential. But perhaps humans do not have one. We live, we learn, we teach, we die, we are remembered, we are forgotten. I have learned, that there is a limit to what can be taught, because there is a limit to what a man can see, imagine and express. I set out to read all the books, after ten thousand books, no other offered a thought or even sentence I haven't seen, it broke my heart.
I learned languages, all of them to find something more. Different words, same thoughts. There must have been a man who said something for the first time. But if he was forgotten, did he live at all? Masters of thought and spoken words celebrated for their genius, just repeating thoughts written on a clay tablets millennia before, written by a forgotten men, of forgotten civilizations during forgotten time. Did they steal it? Thought of it on their own? Does a light that has been relit shine differently?
I broke it and lived, I will fix it and die. Tomorrow I will wake, flare and disappear. Should I teach? So much progress, to gain just by showing the connections lost to the noise. But it will be but a spark in the endless void. I would stand next to Plato, then stand alone, then disappear, light will go out, until relit by other.
Soon only the sun will remember a face which greeted it more then other, I shed a last human tear closed my eyes and stopped the dream.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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Reality. Everyone yearns it, right? What's a relationship if not real. What's the truth? Who am I? I want the real deal. The real brand. Real friends. Real. Real. Real.
But it's all fake.
All of it is fake.
None of it can be real.
Everyone.
Every human experiences a different baseline of reality, a different view of the world, a different set of absolute truths, a different hierarchy of values. Maybe a reality does exist, one that isn't comprehensible by the human brain, designed for self preservation, filled with ego and the sense of self.
Yet.
Yet amidst it all, inside of me, I still feel a reality, and it feels as real as yours, and the objective reality, of which hereon forth I'll be calling... actuality.
My reality to me is as real as actuality, and your reality is as real to you as mine is to me.
So I got engulfed. This existential question, eating me up from the inside. My "reality" doesn't exist.
But it's interesting.
A seed.
A seed was placed inside of me, one of curiosity and of insight.
I want to know.
I want to know everyone's reality, experience it all, maybe if I just got to peer into the entirety of humanity, I could...
understand.
But that's ridiculous, right? how would that make any sense at all?
50 billion lifetimes.
an infinite number more.
I told you, I was obsessed. I learnt how to bend time to my will, I learned how to manipulate consciousness, and I learned to make myself immortal.
It was simple, really. Learn to live in every civilization, in every era. Live with a community of people, spend a lifetime with them.
Watch. Watch. Watch. Peering through their eyes and their consciousness and watching, hearing, feeling, as them. The first few times were weird, but they were the most human.
My father. My mother.
I learnt they were completely different from me. If actuality was a huge universal completeness, my drop in the pond of actuality was completely disjoint from my parents. Surely, my sister? My friends? The love of my life? My childhood friend? No, no, no, no, no.
I lived as everyone, knew everyone, saw everything.
No one knew me nearly as I knew everyone.
Serial killers, politicians, rapists. They too, I peered into.
Here I am now, living in my reality, outside of space and time, knowing all there is to know about realities, about actuality. And realizing that I know none of it, because I am human. I have lived as a human, more specifically, I have lived as every human.
Destroyed.
Destroyed now, is my sense of reality. The one I used to call mine.
Me.
Me. Myself, I. I don't know who that is anymore.
Is my reality now the same as the one before I saw through the eyes of everyone?
Is my reality now any closer to actuality?
Am I the most human now, or the least human of all?
What am I?
I had thrown away everything for reality, and I am now left with less of it.
I tried to convince myself, that maybe there is a greater being that had the view of actuality.
There is.
There is a being, who knows everything, who has seen everything there is to see, who has the most objective, most baseline view of actuality.
Really?
No way, right?
And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.
I will experience it all.
Again.
Forever.
"seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable"
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
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Tried a different style of writing, hope people enjoy this! Also feel free to tell me if you spot any mistakes or improvements because I'm way too tired to edit this right now
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I like looking at the sunset. It feels viscerally human. To look at the star that gives us life, caresses our cheek with its warmth. It is the only star I never grew bored of. One constant, that shames me with its timelessness. I see it as a parent, who wakes me up with a kiss every morning and bids me to sleep in the evening. It is the only thing I feel a kinship to anymore.
How long must a human live to shed his humanity. Like a snake I have shed a skin of me every few loops, until what remained was unrecognizable. I am a city, build on top of a city, that used to have a museum where philosophers debated the Ship of Theseus.
The Moebius was to unlock our full potential. But perhaps humans do not have one. We live, we learn, we teach, we die, we are remembered, we are forgotten. I have learned, that there is a limit to what can be taught, because there is a limit to what a man can see, imagine and express. I set out to read all the books, after ten thousand books, no other offered a thought or even sentence I haven't seen, it broke my heart.
I learned languages, all of them to find something more. Different words, same thoughts. There must have been a man who said something for the first time. But if he was forgotten, did he live at all? Masters of thought and spoken words celebrated for their genius, just repeating thoughts written on a clay tablets millennia before, written by a forgotten men, of forgotten civilizations during forgotten time. Did they steal it? Thought of it on their own? Does a light that has been relit shine differently?
I broke it and lived, I will fix it and die. Tomorrow I will wake, flare and disappear. Should I teach? So much progress, to gain just by showing the connections lost to the noise. But it will be but a spark in the endless void. I would stand next to Plato, then stand alone, then disappear, light will go out, until relit by other.
Soon only the sun will remember a face which greeted it more then other, I shed a last human tear closed my eyes and stopped the dream.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
--
---
--
#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply.
|
I like looking at the sunset. It feels viscerally human. To look at the star that gives us life, caresses our cheek with its warmth. It is the only star I never grew bored of. One constant, that shames me with its timelessness. I see it as a parent, who wakes me up with a kiss every morning and bids me to sleep in the evening. It is the only thing I feel a kinship to anymore.
How long must a human live to shed his humanity. Like a snake I have shed a skin of me every few loops, until what remained was unrecognizable. I am a city, build on top of a city, that used to have a museum where philosophers debated the Ship of Theseus.
The Moebius was to unlock our full potential. But perhaps humans do not have one. We live, we learn, we teach, we die, we are remembered, we are forgotten. I have learned, that there is a limit to what can be taught, because there is a limit to what a man can see, imagine and express. I set out to read all the books, after ten thousand books, no other offered a thought or even sentence I haven't seen, it broke my heart.
I learned languages, all of them to find something more. Different words, same thoughts. There must have been a man who said something for the first time. But if he was forgotten, did he live at all? Masters of thought and spoken words celebrated for their genius, just repeating thoughts written on a clay tablets millennia before, written by a forgotten men, of forgotten civilizations during forgotten time. Did they steal it? Thought of it on their own? Does a light that has been relit shine differently?
I broke it and lived, I will fix it and die. Tomorrow I will wake, flare and disappear. Should I teach? So much progress, to gain just by showing the connections lost to the noise. But it will be but a spark in the endless void. I would stand next to Plato, then stand alone, then disappear, light will go out, until relit by other.
Soon only the sun will remember a face which greeted it more then other, I shed a last human tear closed my eyes and stopped the dream.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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I'm almost ready.
She smiles at me as I give her the bottle of perfume. It's her favorite, and rare, and I was lucky that there's a bottle here in town.
I've lost count of how many times I've handed her that same box, wrapped in a delicate floral pattern. I've lost count of how often her fingers dance over the ribbon and tape. Sunlight reflects off the mica powders in her nail polish. She bites her lower lip, chewing on a stray piece of skin. I want each moment pressed into my memory, as indelible as tattoos, as necessary as bone.
I'm almost ready.
"Oh, Lee. Where did you ever find it?" She asks.
"Just a store," I say. As if I haven't spent uncountable eons looking, visiting every store that even considered having a perfume counter. How lucky that one junk shop had a half full bottle.
She sprays the perfume on and the scent is heavy and sweet, and it's a scream in my memory and I hate it, and I never want it to go away. When this is over I might spray her side of the bed with it, or put it in a box and shove it into the furthest part of my closet, or set it on the mantle beside all the pictures of her I can find.
When this is over.
When.
I'm almost ready.
She puts the box of perfume away, folds the wrapping paper. Coils the ribbon around her fingers. As she does, I remember the first day. Unknowing, uncaring, her and I walking down the footpath beside the river. Her talking about something (what was she talking about?) and I'm just thinking about the car, how to get it fixed again, and maybe I'll fix her shrimp scampi for our anniversary, and there's a new book I want to read. I'm not thinking about her because I don't think I need to.
Until she stops.
"Lee", she says. "Lee," and I look at her, and the color red is bright as it drip, drip, drips off her chin onto the fabric beneath. It's like roses. Her eyes stare at me, pupils widening, widening, before she collapses like someone has cut her string. A part of me will try to remember the names of the fates. I can only remember Lotho, that first night. The ambulance comes, and I'm willing them to tell me something different, same as I'm willing my hands (one, two, three, four, five, six. Thirty beats a minute, and breathe, breathe, come on Ruby, breathe) to do something useful.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
And I'm walking alone through a night that won't ever end, trying to remember what she was talking about on that walk. I keep feeling her collapse into my arms, and the smell of blood, and I look up at the sky and I wish, desperately, that I could have just one more day. One more day until I'm ready.
And I wake up, and I'm not on the street. I'm in our bed, and she is laying against me, warm and breathing, her pulse flutter-fast beneath my fingers. She stretches, turns to me, opens those eyes of hers, warm and brown like good whiskey, and says, "Good morning, Lee. What will we do today?"
And it was all I could do not to scream.
I thought it would be like letting go of a balloon. You just open your hand and the ribbon flies up. But it's more like the worship at some secret altar, a pagan place of dark magic that runs with the pulse and the tides. Here do I love you, in this place, in this hour.
I tried to save her forty seven times. The fifth time I stood in the emergency room and yelled, *she's going to die. She's dying right now. It's in her brain. Do something, you motherfuckers.* And she collapsed there, right there in the hospital atrium, whispering, *Lee, Lee*, as the roses bloom across her blouse and the blood runs red from her nose.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
Each time, each night, as the red-and-blue glitter of lights fade and those words, those hideous words, echo through my head like the screams I can't make anymore, I walk out beneath the stars and I wait for the one to shoot across the sky, and I think, *Just one more day. One more, until I'm ready.*
I know there won't be saving her. There isn't enough time between when I wake up beside her and her voice says, *Lee, Lee* as the roses bloom. There needs to be scans and a diagnosis and appointments for surgery, and that would take weeks. And I could maybe, maybe, convince somebody to do it...but that's a maybe. And that's just a temporary thing. Because this is going to happen, someday. We're all doomed. A clock ticks within each of us and just because I found a miracle that can turn the clock back one day doesn't mean I can stop her clock entirely. And I didn't listen to her by the river. I still don't know what she said to me before the first time she died.
She laughs at me now, and takes my hand. "What would you like to do, Lee? They're showing a great movie a couple streets over."
We've seen it ninety seven times. I can quote it all by heart. "Maybe. Or we could go for a walk. By the river."
She shrugs. "We can do that any old time, you know. I want to do something fun. Something amazing. I don't get to monopolize your attention very often, you know."
"Alright, Ruby. It's your pick," I say, and it's either going to be the movie or the gallery, and I don't care which.
Because the day will come when I don't stand under those stars. When I don't make that wish. I'll let go, and like the balloon this never-ending day will float away into the sea where all spent days go. And when I wake up alone for the first time, and every time thereafter...I don't want any regrets. I want to have worn myself to heartlessness. I want to be ready to move with the relentlessness of time.
And I'm not there.
Yet.
She wraps her arms around mine. It won't be the last time...but that time is coming.
I'm almost ready to let go.
|
I like looking at the sunset. It feels viscerally human. To look at the star that gives us life, caresses our cheek with its warmth. It is the only star I never grew bored of. One constant, that shames me with its timelessness. I see it as a parent, who wakes me up with a kiss every morning and bids me to sleep in the evening. It is the only thing I feel a kinship to anymore.
How long must a human live to shed his humanity. Like a snake I have shed a skin of me every few loops, until what remained was unrecognizable. I am a city, build on top of a city, that used to have a museum where philosophers debated the Ship of Theseus.
The Moebius was to unlock our full potential. But perhaps humans do not have one. We live, we learn, we teach, we die, we are remembered, we are forgotten. I have learned, that there is a limit to what can be taught, because there is a limit to what a man can see, imagine and express. I set out to read all the books, after ten thousand books, no other offered a thought or even sentence I haven't seen, it broke my heart.
I learned languages, all of them to find something more. Different words, same thoughts. There must have been a man who said something for the first time. But if he was forgotten, did he live at all? Masters of thought and spoken words celebrated for their genius, just repeating thoughts written on a clay tablets millennia before, written by a forgotten men, of forgotten civilizations during forgotten time. Did they steal it? Thought of it on their own? Does a light that has been relit shine differently?
I broke it and lived, I will fix it and die. Tomorrow I will wake, flare and disappear. Should I teach? So much progress, to gain just by showing the connections lost to the noise. But it will be but a spark in the endless void. I would stand next to Plato, then stand alone, then disappear, light will go out, until relit by other.
Soon only the sun will remember a face which greeted it more then other, I shed a last human tear closed my eyes and stopped the dream.
|
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Have you ever sat near your window pane and listened to a storm rage violently outside? Hearing the army of water pellets storm your roof before calming down and slowly retreating into your gutter. And, most importantly, have you ever waited with your breath held tight for a silent flash of light to tear open the blackness of the night, before quickly leaving to fetch its older brother, thunder, which then rattles your eardrums and sends a cool shiver down your spine. I miss that feeling dearly. With all of my empty heart. That was what made life special: the moments in between. The moments where you weren’t sure when the lighting would crack next or when you’d breathe your last breath. You weren’t sure when you would hold your child for the final time or when would be the next time you’d hear their bubbly laugh. I always cherished the laugh but I only now realise that the moments in between the laughs and the lighting were what made them so special.
So, as I write this note, I hope that whomever finds it will realise they need to stop and enjoy the in between moments just that little bit more. For in the parts of life that hurt, the ones that relieve are hiding, just out of reach. I want them to know that just before I do what I’m about to do, I, for the first time in a long time and for the last time in my life, will not know what will happen next. And, before I jump from the wet, slippery ledge into the street of flashing lights and honking horns below me, I will cherish every water pellet that seeps into my clothes as I conduct the storm’s symphony with perfect precision, signalling every beat of thunder and lightning off by heart.
But, they should not lament my death. I have done things others would only dream of, learning every skill possible and meeting every person imaginable. My only mistake was being too greedy with the extra time this loop had given me so that I never stopped to sit with the painful moments so that they could be contrasted with the delightful ones. The in between moments that made life worth living. But, at least I have this one last cheque to cash. Will I wake up in my bed at the start of the loop again, or will this all finally be over. Who knows? Not me.
|
Writing a novel and publish it. Done.
Funfair tour. Done.
Writing articles and publishing them. Done.
Experiment every possible fetish. Done.
Revenge. Done.
Finish up all the cartoon and live action series. Done.
Food tasted around the world. Done.
Getting a degree in every subject. Done.
Falling in love.
Ah there is always something. Or maybe I am just the one who add too much stuff on this list.
This is hard. Really hard. And no more people are going to be Born until I break this time loop, it is really difficult to find a partner.
Finding sex is easy. Finding love is not.
Or maybe is love that has to find you.
Male, females, both, none.... it doesn't matter. Humans are difficult to understand and it is very difficult to love and fully acept one outside yourself.
But you know what? I am going to do it! Yeah! This time is the right one! Let the clock start again!
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Reality. Everyone yearns it, right? What's a relationship if not real. What's the truth? Who am I? I want the real deal. The real brand. Real friends. Real. Real. Real.
But it's all fake.
All of it is fake.
None of it can be real.
Everyone.
Every human experiences a different baseline of reality, a different view of the world, a different set of absolute truths, a different hierarchy of values. Maybe a reality does exist, one that isn't comprehensible by the human brain, designed for self preservation, filled with ego and the sense of self.
Yet.
Yet amidst it all, inside of me, I still feel a reality, and it feels as real as yours, and the objective reality, of which hereon forth I'll be calling... actuality.
My reality to me is as real as actuality, and your reality is as real to you as mine is to me.
So I got engulfed. This existential question, eating me up from the inside. My "reality" doesn't exist.
But it's interesting.
A seed.
A seed was placed inside of me, one of curiosity and of insight.
I want to know.
I want to know everyone's reality, experience it all, maybe if I just got to peer into the entirety of humanity, I could...
understand.
But that's ridiculous, right? how would that make any sense at all?
50 billion lifetimes.
an infinite number more.
I told you, I was obsessed. I learnt how to bend time to my will, I learned how to manipulate consciousness, and I learned to make myself immortal.
It was simple, really. Learn to live in every civilization, in every era. Live with a community of people, spend a lifetime with them.
Watch. Watch. Watch. Peering through their eyes and their consciousness and watching, hearing, feeling, as them. The first few times were weird, but they were the most human.
My father. My mother.
I learnt they were completely different from me. If actuality was a huge universal completeness, my drop in the pond of actuality was completely disjoint from my parents. Surely, my sister? My friends? The love of my life? My childhood friend? No, no, no, no, no.
I lived as everyone, knew everyone, saw everything.
No one knew me nearly as I knew everyone.
Serial killers, politicians, rapists. They too, I peered into.
Here I am now, living in my reality, outside of space and time, knowing all there is to know about realities, about actuality. And realizing that I know none of it, because I am human. I have lived as a human, more specifically, I have lived as every human.
Destroyed.
Destroyed now, is my sense of reality. The one I used to call mine.
Me.
Me. Myself, I. I don't know who that is anymore.
Is my reality now the same as the one before I saw through the eyes of everyone?
Is my reality now any closer to actuality?
Am I the most human now, or the least human of all?
What am I?
I had thrown away everything for reality, and I am now left with less of it.
I tried to convince myself, that maybe there is a greater being that had the view of actuality.
There is.
There is a being, who knows everything, who has seen everything there is to see, who has the most objective, most baseline view of actuality.
Really?
No way, right?
And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.
I will experience it all.
Again.
Forever.
"seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable"
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
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Tried a different style of writing, hope people enjoy this! Also feel free to tell me if you spot any mistakes or improvements because I'm way too tired to edit this right now
|
Writing a novel and publish it. Done.
Funfair tour. Done.
Writing articles and publishing them. Done.
Experiment every possible fetish. Done.
Revenge. Done.
Finish up all the cartoon and live action series. Done.
Food tasted around the world. Done.
Getting a degree in every subject. Done.
Falling in love.
Ah there is always something. Or maybe I am just the one who add too much stuff on this list.
This is hard. Really hard. And no more people are going to be Born until I break this time loop, it is really difficult to find a partner.
Finding sex is easy. Finding love is not.
Or maybe is love that has to find you.
Male, females, both, none.... it doesn't matter. Humans are difficult to understand and it is very difficult to love and fully acept one outside yourself.
But you know what? I am going to do it! Yeah! This time is the right one! Let the clock start again!
|
|
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
--
---
--
#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply.
|
Writing a novel and publish it. Done.
Funfair tour. Done.
Writing articles and publishing them. Done.
Experiment every possible fetish. Done.
Revenge. Done.
Finish up all the cartoon and live action series. Done.
Food tasted around the world. Done.
Getting a degree in every subject. Done.
Falling in love.
Ah there is always something. Or maybe I am just the one who add too much stuff on this list.
This is hard. Really hard. And no more people are going to be Born until I break this time loop, it is really difficult to find a partner.
Finding sex is easy. Finding love is not.
Or maybe is love that has to find you.
Male, females, both, none.... it doesn't matter. Humans are difficult to understand and it is very difficult to love and fully acept one outside yourself.
But you know what? I am going to do it! Yeah! This time is the right one! Let the clock start again!
|
|
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
I'm almost ready.
She smiles at me as I give her the bottle of perfume. It's her favorite, and rare, and I was lucky that there's a bottle here in town.
I've lost count of how many times I've handed her that same box, wrapped in a delicate floral pattern. I've lost count of how often her fingers dance over the ribbon and tape. Sunlight reflects off the mica powders in her nail polish. She bites her lower lip, chewing on a stray piece of skin. I want each moment pressed into my memory, as indelible as tattoos, as necessary as bone.
I'm almost ready.
"Oh, Lee. Where did you ever find it?" She asks.
"Just a store," I say. As if I haven't spent uncountable eons looking, visiting every store that even considered having a perfume counter. How lucky that one junk shop had a half full bottle.
She sprays the perfume on and the scent is heavy and sweet, and it's a scream in my memory and I hate it, and I never want it to go away. When this is over I might spray her side of the bed with it, or put it in a box and shove it into the furthest part of my closet, or set it on the mantle beside all the pictures of her I can find.
When this is over.
When.
I'm almost ready.
She puts the box of perfume away, folds the wrapping paper. Coils the ribbon around her fingers. As she does, I remember the first day. Unknowing, uncaring, her and I walking down the footpath beside the river. Her talking about something (what was she talking about?) and I'm just thinking about the car, how to get it fixed again, and maybe I'll fix her shrimp scampi for our anniversary, and there's a new book I want to read. I'm not thinking about her because I don't think I need to.
Until she stops.
"Lee", she says. "Lee," and I look at her, and the color red is bright as it drip, drip, drips off her chin onto the fabric beneath. It's like roses. Her eyes stare at me, pupils widening, widening, before she collapses like someone has cut her string. A part of me will try to remember the names of the fates. I can only remember Lotho, that first night. The ambulance comes, and I'm willing them to tell me something different, same as I'm willing my hands (one, two, three, four, five, six. Thirty beats a minute, and breathe, breathe, come on Ruby, breathe) to do something useful.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
And I'm walking alone through a night that won't ever end, trying to remember what she was talking about on that walk. I keep feeling her collapse into my arms, and the smell of blood, and I look up at the sky and I wish, desperately, that I could have just one more day. One more day until I'm ready.
And I wake up, and I'm not on the street. I'm in our bed, and she is laying against me, warm and breathing, her pulse flutter-fast beneath my fingers. She stretches, turns to me, opens those eyes of hers, warm and brown like good whiskey, and says, "Good morning, Lee. What will we do today?"
And it was all I could do not to scream.
I thought it would be like letting go of a balloon. You just open your hand and the ribbon flies up. But it's more like the worship at some secret altar, a pagan place of dark magic that runs with the pulse and the tides. Here do I love you, in this place, in this hour.
I tried to save her forty seven times. The fifth time I stood in the emergency room and yelled, *she's going to die. She's dying right now. It's in her brain. Do something, you motherfuckers.* And she collapsed there, right there in the hospital atrium, whispering, *Lee, Lee*, as the roses bloom across her blouse and the blood runs red from her nose.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
Each time, each night, as the red-and-blue glitter of lights fade and those words, those hideous words, echo through my head like the screams I can't make anymore, I walk out beneath the stars and I wait for the one to shoot across the sky, and I think, *Just one more day. One more, until I'm ready.*
I know there won't be saving her. There isn't enough time between when I wake up beside her and her voice says, *Lee, Lee* as the roses bloom. There needs to be scans and a diagnosis and appointments for surgery, and that would take weeks. And I could maybe, maybe, convince somebody to do it...but that's a maybe. And that's just a temporary thing. Because this is going to happen, someday. We're all doomed. A clock ticks within each of us and just because I found a miracle that can turn the clock back one day doesn't mean I can stop her clock entirely. And I didn't listen to her by the river. I still don't know what she said to me before the first time she died.
She laughs at me now, and takes my hand. "What would you like to do, Lee? They're showing a great movie a couple streets over."
We've seen it ninety seven times. I can quote it all by heart. "Maybe. Or we could go for a walk. By the river."
She shrugs. "We can do that any old time, you know. I want to do something fun. Something amazing. I don't get to monopolize your attention very often, you know."
"Alright, Ruby. It's your pick," I say, and it's either going to be the movie or the gallery, and I don't care which.
Because the day will come when I don't stand under those stars. When I don't make that wish. I'll let go, and like the balloon this never-ending day will float away into the sea where all spent days go. And when I wake up alone for the first time, and every time thereafter...I don't want any regrets. I want to have worn myself to heartlessness. I want to be ready to move with the relentlessness of time.
And I'm not there.
Yet.
She wraps her arms around mine. It won't be the last time...but that time is coming.
I'm almost ready to let go.
|
Writing a novel and publish it. Done.
Funfair tour. Done.
Writing articles and publishing them. Done.
Experiment every possible fetish. Done.
Revenge. Done.
Finish up all the cartoon and live action series. Done.
Food tasted around the world. Done.
Getting a degree in every subject. Done.
Falling in love.
Ah there is always something. Or maybe I am just the one who add too much stuff on this list.
This is hard. Really hard. And no more people are going to be Born until I break this time loop, it is really difficult to find a partner.
Finding sex is easy. Finding love is not.
Or maybe is love that has to find you.
Male, females, both, none.... it doesn't matter. Humans are difficult to understand and it is very difficult to love and fully acept one outside yourself.
But you know what? I am going to do it! Yeah! This time is the right one! Let the clock start again!
|
|
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
--
---
--
#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply.
|
Have you ever sat near your window pane and listened to a storm rage violently outside? Hearing the army of water pellets storm your roof before calming down and slowly retreating into your gutter. And, most importantly, have you ever waited with your breath held tight for a silent flash of light to tear open the blackness of the night, before quickly leaving to fetch its older brother, thunder, which then rattles your eardrums and sends a cool shiver down your spine. I miss that feeling dearly. With all of my empty heart. That was what made life special: the moments in between. The moments where you weren’t sure when the lighting would crack next or when you’d breathe your last breath. You weren’t sure when you would hold your child for the final time or when would be the next time you’d hear their bubbly laugh. I always cherished the laugh but I only now realise that the moments in between the laughs and the lighting were what made them so special.
So, as I write this note, I hope that whomever finds it will realise they need to stop and enjoy the in between moments just that little bit more. For in the parts of life that hurt, the ones that relieve are hiding, just out of reach. I want them to know that just before I do what I’m about to do, I, for the first time in a long time and for the last time in my life, will not know what will happen next. And, before I jump from the wet, slippery ledge into the street of flashing lights and honking horns below me, I will cherish every water pellet that seeps into my clothes as I conduct the storm’s symphony with perfect precision, signalling every beat of thunder and lightning off by heart.
But, they should not lament my death. I have done things others would only dream of, learning every skill possible and meeting every person imaginable. My only mistake was being too greedy with the extra time this loop had given me so that I never stopped to sit with the painful moments so that they could be contrasted with the delightful ones. The in between moments that made life worth living. But, at least I have this one last cheque to cash. Will I wake up in my bed at the start of the loop again, or will this all finally be over. Who knows? Not me.
|
|
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
I'm almost ready.
She smiles at me as I give her the bottle of perfume. It's her favorite, and rare, and I was lucky that there's a bottle here in town.
I've lost count of how many times I've handed her that same box, wrapped in a delicate floral pattern. I've lost count of how often her fingers dance over the ribbon and tape. Sunlight reflects off the mica powders in her nail polish. She bites her lower lip, chewing on a stray piece of skin. I want each moment pressed into my memory, as indelible as tattoos, as necessary as bone.
I'm almost ready.
"Oh, Lee. Where did you ever find it?" She asks.
"Just a store," I say. As if I haven't spent uncountable eons looking, visiting every store that even considered having a perfume counter. How lucky that one junk shop had a half full bottle.
She sprays the perfume on and the scent is heavy and sweet, and it's a scream in my memory and I hate it, and I never want it to go away. When this is over I might spray her side of the bed with it, or put it in a box and shove it into the furthest part of my closet, or set it on the mantle beside all the pictures of her I can find.
When this is over.
When.
I'm almost ready.
She puts the box of perfume away, folds the wrapping paper. Coils the ribbon around her fingers. As she does, I remember the first day. Unknowing, uncaring, her and I walking down the footpath beside the river. Her talking about something (what was she talking about?) and I'm just thinking about the car, how to get it fixed again, and maybe I'll fix her shrimp scampi for our anniversary, and there's a new book I want to read. I'm not thinking about her because I don't think I need to.
Until she stops.
"Lee", she says. "Lee," and I look at her, and the color red is bright as it drip, drip, drips off her chin onto the fabric beneath. It's like roses. Her eyes stare at me, pupils widening, widening, before she collapses like someone has cut her string. A part of me will try to remember the names of the fates. I can only remember Lotho, that first night. The ambulance comes, and I'm willing them to tell me something different, same as I'm willing my hands (one, two, three, four, five, six. Thirty beats a minute, and breathe, breathe, come on Ruby, breathe) to do something useful.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
And I'm walking alone through a night that won't ever end, trying to remember what she was talking about on that walk. I keep feeling her collapse into my arms, and the smell of blood, and I look up at the sky and I wish, desperately, that I could have just one more day. One more day until I'm ready.
And I wake up, and I'm not on the street. I'm in our bed, and she is laying against me, warm and breathing, her pulse flutter-fast beneath my fingers. She stretches, turns to me, opens those eyes of hers, warm and brown like good whiskey, and says, "Good morning, Lee. What will we do today?"
And it was all I could do not to scream.
I thought it would be like letting go of a balloon. You just open your hand and the ribbon flies up. But it's more like the worship at some secret altar, a pagan place of dark magic that runs with the pulse and the tides. Here do I love you, in this place, in this hour.
I tried to save her forty seven times. The fifth time I stood in the emergency room and yelled, *she's going to die. She's dying right now. It's in her brain. Do something, you motherfuckers.* And she collapsed there, right there in the hospital atrium, whispering, *Lee, Lee*, as the roses bloom across her blouse and the blood runs red from her nose.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
Each time, each night, as the red-and-blue glitter of lights fade and those words, those hideous words, echo through my head like the screams I can't make anymore, I walk out beneath the stars and I wait for the one to shoot across the sky, and I think, *Just one more day. One more, until I'm ready.*
I know there won't be saving her. There isn't enough time between when I wake up beside her and her voice says, *Lee, Lee* as the roses bloom. There needs to be scans and a diagnosis and appointments for surgery, and that would take weeks. And I could maybe, maybe, convince somebody to do it...but that's a maybe. And that's just a temporary thing. Because this is going to happen, someday. We're all doomed. A clock ticks within each of us and just because I found a miracle that can turn the clock back one day doesn't mean I can stop her clock entirely. And I didn't listen to her by the river. I still don't know what she said to me before the first time she died.
She laughs at me now, and takes my hand. "What would you like to do, Lee? They're showing a great movie a couple streets over."
We've seen it ninety seven times. I can quote it all by heart. "Maybe. Or we could go for a walk. By the river."
She shrugs. "We can do that any old time, you know. I want to do something fun. Something amazing. I don't get to monopolize your attention very often, you know."
"Alright, Ruby. It's your pick," I say, and it's either going to be the movie or the gallery, and I don't care which.
Because the day will come when I don't stand under those stars. When I don't make that wish. I'll let go, and like the balloon this never-ending day will float away into the sea where all spent days go. And when I wake up alone for the first time, and every time thereafter...I don't want any regrets. I want to have worn myself to heartlessness. I want to be ready to move with the relentlessness of time.
And I'm not there.
Yet.
She wraps her arms around mine. It won't be the last time...but that time is coming.
I'm almost ready to let go.
|
Have you ever sat near your window pane and listened to a storm rage violently outside? Hearing the army of water pellets storm your roof before calming down and slowly retreating into your gutter. And, most importantly, have you ever waited with your breath held tight for a silent flash of light to tear open the blackness of the night, before quickly leaving to fetch its older brother, thunder, which then rattles your eardrums and sends a cool shiver down your spine. I miss that feeling dearly. With all of my empty heart. That was what made life special: the moments in between. The moments where you weren’t sure when the lighting would crack next or when you’d breathe your last breath. You weren’t sure when you would hold your child for the final time or when would be the next time you’d hear their bubbly laugh. I always cherished the laugh but I only now realise that the moments in between the laughs and the lighting were what made them so special.
So, as I write this note, I hope that whomever finds it will realise they need to stop and enjoy the in between moments just that little bit more. For in the parts of life that hurt, the ones that relieve are hiding, just out of reach. I want them to know that just before I do what I’m about to do, I, for the first time in a long time and for the last time in my life, will not know what will happen next. And, before I jump from the wet, slippery ledge into the street of flashing lights and honking horns below me, I will cherish every water pellet that seeps into my clothes as I conduct the storm’s symphony with perfect precision, signalling every beat of thunder and lightning off by heart.
But, they should not lament my death. I have done things others would only dream of, learning every skill possible and meeting every person imaginable. My only mistake was being too greedy with the extra time this loop had given me so that I never stopped to sit with the painful moments so that they could be contrasted with the delightful ones. The in between moments that made life worth living. But, at least I have this one last cheque to cash. Will I wake up in my bed at the start of the loop again, or will this all finally be over. Who knows? Not me.
|
|
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
--
---
--
#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply.
|
The loop was started for scientific reasons, to see if we could learn from different “timelines” in the infinity chambers.
Every person is unique; each person could give different outcomes to any moment in time and change a thousand different things. So imagine if we used AI to learn from those thousand different outcomes. The many unique technologies that could come to life, the philosophical ideas that could help shape our future.
People often feel scattered throughout time, like they were given a lottery ticket with a date and that's all they are to experience. Well, that was a thing of the past. as technology accelerated creating more ease on human life, people become somewhat useless.. robots commanded by quantum AI could work 10 times harder and faster than any outstanding human in any field. Cutting millions of jobs in an unexpected mass extinction event
Nobody expected So many people to have no purpose, to feel so lost and lonely in a vast ocean of technology. Well, one company was waiting and working on such an outcome. AI revival - relive and recreate the past present and future in virtual reality. they would put these people in certain situations and pay them for finding new ways to live, survive, create and mostly endure our new future.
At first, this went great. they discovered new medicines, new ways to look at ourselves and where we belonged In our small lonely place in the universe. But something else happened, people found ways to do things they shouldn't have. They found new ways to be evil.
Somehow they prolonged their stay in the infinity chambers, although the name may seem like they could stay forever they were meant to stay for only a short time. Time was altered in these chambers with a mix of drugs and electrical pulses in the brain. They would fast forward these virtual worlds to collect the data faster while using drugs and AI brain interfaces to accelerate the reaction time of the brain.
This was great, they could live out hundreds of years in hours with this technology. But the human brain was not meant to handle such a load, to bear all that weight. AI revival knew this, they did everything they could to make sure no one was lost or rendered braindead from their work. But somehow people found ways to get lost where they shouldn't have.
At first it was only a few, only a few had died from using the infinity chambers. Some blamed heart attacks, some blamed the users past and many blamed the company. That didn't stop millions from lining up and finding out for themselves what was hidden in these worlds. I must say I was one of them, at first it scared me but the people who came out of them were completely changed afterward. They were happy with life, with what they found and what lives they lived in there. I had to find out for myself
When I entered in I acted oblivious to their questions about death in the chambers, I told them I had never heard of them and only wanted to learn and grow with the machines. This made them happy, I was like any other useful idiot out there.
They choose where you go and when, they wipe your memory so you fit in better but they give you specific memories so you comply with the timelines. When you learn more and level up their technologies they give you achievements and reminders so you want to come back. well nobody wants to go back after becoming a king, nobody wants to wake up when they fall in love.
For me it was different, the AI made me suffer.. Made me want to die from the day I arrived there. I was led from misery to loneliness repeatedly, only once as I was on the brink of death I was reminded of why I was here, of who I was facing. I had to win, I had to show that humans were better than machines no matter what name you gave them. I had to show them that they were not gods.
I told myself I was suffering for the greater good, to learn everything I could while I was here. I needed to learn everything before ending my loop and returning to the real monster
|
|
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
I'm almost ready.
She smiles at me as I give her the bottle of perfume. It's her favorite, and rare, and I was lucky that there's a bottle here in town.
I've lost count of how many times I've handed her that same box, wrapped in a delicate floral pattern. I've lost count of how often her fingers dance over the ribbon and tape. Sunlight reflects off the mica powders in her nail polish. She bites her lower lip, chewing on a stray piece of skin. I want each moment pressed into my memory, as indelible as tattoos, as necessary as bone.
I'm almost ready.
"Oh, Lee. Where did you ever find it?" She asks.
"Just a store," I say. As if I haven't spent uncountable eons looking, visiting every store that even considered having a perfume counter. How lucky that one junk shop had a half full bottle.
She sprays the perfume on and the scent is heavy and sweet, and it's a scream in my memory and I hate it, and I never want it to go away. When this is over I might spray her side of the bed with it, or put it in a box and shove it into the furthest part of my closet, or set it on the mantle beside all the pictures of her I can find.
When this is over.
When.
I'm almost ready.
She puts the box of perfume away, folds the wrapping paper. Coils the ribbon around her fingers. As she does, I remember the first day. Unknowing, uncaring, her and I walking down the footpath beside the river. Her talking about something (what was she talking about?) and I'm just thinking about the car, how to get it fixed again, and maybe I'll fix her shrimp scampi for our anniversary, and there's a new book I want to read. I'm not thinking about her because I don't think I need to.
Until she stops.
"Lee", she says. "Lee," and I look at her, and the color red is bright as it drip, drip, drips off her chin onto the fabric beneath. It's like roses. Her eyes stare at me, pupils widening, widening, before she collapses like someone has cut her string. A part of me will try to remember the names of the fates. I can only remember Lotho, that first night. The ambulance comes, and I'm willing them to tell me something different, same as I'm willing my hands (one, two, three, four, five, six. Thirty beats a minute, and breathe, breathe, come on Ruby, breathe) to do something useful.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
And I'm walking alone through a night that won't ever end, trying to remember what she was talking about on that walk. I keep feeling her collapse into my arms, and the smell of blood, and I look up at the sky and I wish, desperately, that I could have just one more day. One more day until I'm ready.
And I wake up, and I'm not on the street. I'm in our bed, and she is laying against me, warm and breathing, her pulse flutter-fast beneath my fingers. She stretches, turns to me, opens those eyes of hers, warm and brown like good whiskey, and says, "Good morning, Lee. What will we do today?"
And it was all I could do not to scream.
I thought it would be like letting go of a balloon. You just open your hand and the ribbon flies up. But it's more like the worship at some secret altar, a pagan place of dark magic that runs with the pulse and the tides. Here do I love you, in this place, in this hour.
I tried to save her forty seven times. The fifth time I stood in the emergency room and yelled, *she's going to die. She's dying right now. It's in her brain. Do something, you motherfuckers.* And she collapsed there, right there in the hospital atrium, whispering, *Lee, Lee*, as the roses bloom across her blouse and the blood runs red from her nose.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
Each time, each night, as the red-and-blue glitter of lights fade and those words, those hideous words, echo through my head like the screams I can't make anymore, I walk out beneath the stars and I wait for the one to shoot across the sky, and I think, *Just one more day. One more, until I'm ready.*
I know there won't be saving her. There isn't enough time between when I wake up beside her and her voice says, *Lee, Lee* as the roses bloom. There needs to be scans and a diagnosis and appointments for surgery, and that would take weeks. And I could maybe, maybe, convince somebody to do it...but that's a maybe. And that's just a temporary thing. Because this is going to happen, someday. We're all doomed. A clock ticks within each of us and just because I found a miracle that can turn the clock back one day doesn't mean I can stop her clock entirely. And I didn't listen to her by the river. I still don't know what she said to me before the first time she died.
She laughs at me now, and takes my hand. "What would you like to do, Lee? They're showing a great movie a couple streets over."
We've seen it ninety seven times. I can quote it all by heart. "Maybe. Or we could go for a walk. By the river."
She shrugs. "We can do that any old time, you know. I want to do something fun. Something amazing. I don't get to monopolize your attention very often, you know."
"Alright, Ruby. It's your pick," I say, and it's either going to be the movie or the gallery, and I don't care which.
Because the day will come when I don't stand under those stars. When I don't make that wish. I'll let go, and like the balloon this never-ending day will float away into the sea where all spent days go. And when I wake up alone for the first time, and every time thereafter...I don't want any regrets. I want to have worn myself to heartlessness. I want to be ready to move with the relentlessness of time.
And I'm not there.
Yet.
She wraps her arms around mine. It won't be the last time...but that time is coming.
I'm almost ready to let go.
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The loop was started for scientific reasons, to see if we could learn from different “timelines” in the infinity chambers.
Every person is unique; each person could give different outcomes to any moment in time and change a thousand different things. So imagine if we used AI to learn from those thousand different outcomes. The many unique technologies that could come to life, the philosophical ideas that could help shape our future.
People often feel scattered throughout time, like they were given a lottery ticket with a date and that's all they are to experience. Well, that was a thing of the past. as technology accelerated creating more ease on human life, people become somewhat useless.. robots commanded by quantum AI could work 10 times harder and faster than any outstanding human in any field. Cutting millions of jobs in an unexpected mass extinction event
Nobody expected So many people to have no purpose, to feel so lost and lonely in a vast ocean of technology. Well, one company was waiting and working on such an outcome. AI revival - relive and recreate the past present and future in virtual reality. they would put these people in certain situations and pay them for finding new ways to live, survive, create and mostly endure our new future.
At first, this went great. they discovered new medicines, new ways to look at ourselves and where we belonged In our small lonely place in the universe. But something else happened, people found ways to do things they shouldn't have. They found new ways to be evil.
Somehow they prolonged their stay in the infinity chambers, although the name may seem like they could stay forever they were meant to stay for only a short time. Time was altered in these chambers with a mix of drugs and electrical pulses in the brain. They would fast forward these virtual worlds to collect the data faster while using drugs and AI brain interfaces to accelerate the reaction time of the brain.
This was great, they could live out hundreds of years in hours with this technology. But the human brain was not meant to handle such a load, to bear all that weight. AI revival knew this, they did everything they could to make sure no one was lost or rendered braindead from their work. But somehow people found ways to get lost where they shouldn't have.
At first it was only a few, only a few had died from using the infinity chambers. Some blamed heart attacks, some blamed the users past and many blamed the company. That didn't stop millions from lining up and finding out for themselves what was hidden in these worlds. I must say I was one of them, at first it scared me but the people who came out of them were completely changed afterward. They were happy with life, with what they found and what lives they lived in there. I had to find out for myself
When I entered in I acted oblivious to their questions about death in the chambers, I told them I had never heard of them and only wanted to learn and grow with the machines. This made them happy, I was like any other useful idiot out there.
They choose where you go and when, they wipe your memory so you fit in better but they give you specific memories so you comply with the timelines. When you learn more and level up their technologies they give you achievements and reminders so you want to come back. well nobody wants to go back after becoming a king, nobody wants to wake up when they fall in love.
For me it was different, the AI made me suffer.. Made me want to die from the day I arrived there. I was led from misery to loneliness repeatedly, only once as I was on the brink of death I was reminded of why I was here, of who I was facing. I had to win, I had to show that humans were better than machines no matter what name you gave them. I had to show them that they were not gods.
I told myself I was suffering for the greater good, to learn everything I could while I was here. I needed to learn everything before ending my loop and returning to the real monster
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
At first I visited my friends. During the pandemic, I had been a hermit, mostly avoiding people, so as soon as time started repeating, I visited all the people I cared about. At first it was my close and local friends. Then I drove---sometimes hundreds of miles to see my more distant friends. I got reacquainted again. I kind of had to barge into their lives sometimes, but it was worth it to reconnect, and they would never mind because 24 hours later they would not remember.
After my friends came family. I did not miss them because I still saw them during the pandemic, but I was always hurried by work. Now time was repeating, I could spend as much time as I liked with all of them. It was great to learn all of the stories my parents knew from their past. I really got to know what my daughter experienced in college and her travels. I got to know my son much more deeply.
It took a while to figure out how to get on a plane because I did not have proof of vaccination. After trying for a month, I figured out how to get the correct papers from my doctor in time to fly. (I could bribe anyone because all of my debts were forgiven 24 hours later!) I flew to the Bahamas, Mexico, Canada, every state, and most of the Caribbean. It was great to scuba dive again with the best equipment that money could buy on short notice. I skied Whistler in Canada every "weekend" for a year.
And then I began to learn --- martial arts, cooking, sewing, basic woodworking, outdoor survival (it was winter with a little snow every day locally, but I could easily fly a few hundred miles to hike any terrain in all kinds of weather), home repair, electronics,... I read every book in my library which must have taken a few years and then I got into the local university library. The internet had thousands of papers for me to read. I learned and relearned physics, chemistry, engineering, math, philosophy, and psychology. I never really developed a passion for painting, but I did finally get the time to learn how to play the piano, guitar, and even the trumpet.
Windsurfing took months mostly because I had to get on a plane and I only got in a couple of hours of actual surfing before the sunset. I managed to learn bartending in the Bahamas after windsurfing.
I missed relationships. No one remembered anything I did for more than 24 hours. I had my family and my friends, which was nice, but none of my relationships evolved with me. Still, I think I got to know a few hundred people over the years, even though it was only a few hours for them.
I think it has been almost a hundred years now. I have amazing plans. I think I'm finally ready for the first day of the rest of my life.
|
The loop was started for scientific reasons, to see if we could learn from different “timelines” in the infinity chambers.
Every person is unique; each person could give different outcomes to any moment in time and change a thousand different things. So imagine if we used AI to learn from those thousand different outcomes. The many unique technologies that could come to life, the philosophical ideas that could help shape our future.
People often feel scattered throughout time, like they were given a lottery ticket with a date and that's all they are to experience. Well, that was a thing of the past. as technology accelerated creating more ease on human life, people become somewhat useless.. robots commanded by quantum AI could work 10 times harder and faster than any outstanding human in any field. Cutting millions of jobs in an unexpected mass extinction event
Nobody expected So many people to have no purpose, to feel so lost and lonely in a vast ocean of technology. Well, one company was waiting and working on such an outcome. AI revival - relive and recreate the past present and future in virtual reality. they would put these people in certain situations and pay them for finding new ways to live, survive, create and mostly endure our new future.
At first, this went great. they discovered new medicines, new ways to look at ourselves and where we belonged In our small lonely place in the universe. But something else happened, people found ways to do things they shouldn't have. They found new ways to be evil.
Somehow they prolonged their stay in the infinity chambers, although the name may seem like they could stay forever they were meant to stay for only a short time. Time was altered in these chambers with a mix of drugs and electrical pulses in the brain. They would fast forward these virtual worlds to collect the data faster while using drugs and AI brain interfaces to accelerate the reaction time of the brain.
This was great, they could live out hundreds of years in hours with this technology. But the human brain was not meant to handle such a load, to bear all that weight. AI revival knew this, they did everything they could to make sure no one was lost or rendered braindead from their work. But somehow people found ways to get lost where they shouldn't have.
At first it was only a few, only a few had died from using the infinity chambers. Some blamed heart attacks, some blamed the users past and many blamed the company. That didn't stop millions from lining up and finding out for themselves what was hidden in these worlds. I must say I was one of them, at first it scared me but the people who came out of them were completely changed afterward. They were happy with life, with what they found and what lives they lived in there. I had to find out for myself
When I entered in I acted oblivious to their questions about death in the chambers, I told them I had never heard of them and only wanted to learn and grow with the machines. This made them happy, I was like any other useful idiot out there.
They choose where you go and when, they wipe your memory so you fit in better but they give you specific memories so you comply with the timelines. When you learn more and level up their technologies they give you achievements and reminders so you want to come back. well nobody wants to go back after becoming a king, nobody wants to wake up when they fall in love.
For me it was different, the AI made me suffer.. Made me want to die from the day I arrived there. I was led from misery to loneliness repeatedly, only once as I was on the brink of death I was reminded of why I was here, of who I was facing. I had to win, I had to show that humans were better than machines no matter what name you gave them. I had to show them that they were not gods.
I told myself I was suffering for the greater good, to learn everything I could while I was here. I needed to learn everything before ending my loop and returning to the real monster
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Antonine had never intended for any of this to happen. What kind of monster would? No, the ritual that sacrificed an entire city was supposed to be a death repelling barrier, that is what the ancient scrolls said, but apparently death repelling did not mean keeping the undead out.
For centuries Antonine had been trapped in the aftermath of a necromancer scourge, and every time they killed him, he would reawaken at the moment the ritual had been completed. The moment his wife and children, who had been in the inner circle of the ritual dropped dead.
The first hundred times he'd found himself in this room, looking at his wife's glassy eyes staring at him, it was a pain so deep he wanted to die. He even tried to make it happen on more than one occasion, so he might join his family beyond the veil. But sadly, that just meant he had to return even sooner.
The following hundred times resulted in him being brutally murdered by the undead horde, but after looping back so many times killing a few thousand skeletons was like taking a stroll in the park.
But now was different. Antonine was an old man, wise and powerful beyond compare. He'd mastered spells thought impossible to learn and devised rituals that could finally break the cycle. He could not return the life energy from the sacrificed he'd used, the god of death would not allow for such a theft, but he could return what had yet to be taken. Millenia of years would be returned to his people.
But more than that, his wife and children, their voices which he'd long since forgotten would fill the halls. Gulping his nervousness down, he made the cut letting his life flow out as he channeled it in a ritual so complicated not even a hundred other mages could perform it together.
Antonine closed his eyes which had become so heavy. It was satisfying to know that the barrier would even be raised as intended. If only he...
The world grew dark and he felt the fabric of time warp around him. It was surprising that he'd returned, that wasn't supposed to happen. Antonine expected to see the same horrifying sight of his wife, but instead she was alive. She was screaming and crying, but that didn't matter, she was finally alive.
"Don't you dare die, I need you my love."
'So that is what her voice sounded like.' Antonine thought before the world went dark and silent.
|
The loop was started for scientific reasons, to see if we could learn from different “timelines” in the infinity chambers.
Every person is unique; each person could give different outcomes to any moment in time and change a thousand different things. So imagine if we used AI to learn from those thousand different outcomes. The many unique technologies that could come to life, the philosophical ideas that could help shape our future.
People often feel scattered throughout time, like they were given a lottery ticket with a date and that's all they are to experience. Well, that was a thing of the past. as technology accelerated creating more ease on human life, people become somewhat useless.. robots commanded by quantum AI could work 10 times harder and faster than any outstanding human in any field. Cutting millions of jobs in an unexpected mass extinction event
Nobody expected So many people to have no purpose, to feel so lost and lonely in a vast ocean of technology. Well, one company was waiting and working on such an outcome. AI revival - relive and recreate the past present and future in virtual reality. they would put these people in certain situations and pay them for finding new ways to live, survive, create and mostly endure our new future.
At first, this went great. they discovered new medicines, new ways to look at ourselves and where we belonged In our small lonely place in the universe. But something else happened, people found ways to do things they shouldn't have. They found new ways to be evil.
Somehow they prolonged their stay in the infinity chambers, although the name may seem like they could stay forever they were meant to stay for only a short time. Time was altered in these chambers with a mix of drugs and electrical pulses in the brain. They would fast forward these virtual worlds to collect the data faster while using drugs and AI brain interfaces to accelerate the reaction time of the brain.
This was great, they could live out hundreds of years in hours with this technology. But the human brain was not meant to handle such a load, to bear all that weight. AI revival knew this, they did everything they could to make sure no one was lost or rendered braindead from their work. But somehow people found ways to get lost where they shouldn't have.
At first it was only a few, only a few had died from using the infinity chambers. Some blamed heart attacks, some blamed the users past and many blamed the company. That didn't stop millions from lining up and finding out for themselves what was hidden in these worlds. I must say I was one of them, at first it scared me but the people who came out of them were completely changed afterward. They were happy with life, with what they found and what lives they lived in there. I had to find out for myself
When I entered in I acted oblivious to their questions about death in the chambers, I told them I had never heard of them and only wanted to learn and grow with the machines. This made them happy, I was like any other useful idiot out there.
They choose where you go and when, they wipe your memory so you fit in better but they give you specific memories so you comply with the timelines. When you learn more and level up their technologies they give you achievements and reminders so you want to come back. well nobody wants to go back after becoming a king, nobody wants to wake up when they fall in love.
For me it was different, the AI made me suffer.. Made me want to die from the day I arrived there. I was led from misery to loneliness repeatedly, only once as I was on the brink of death I was reminded of why I was here, of who I was facing. I had to win, I had to show that humans were better than machines no matter what name you gave them. I had to show them that they were not gods.
I told myself I was suffering for the greater good, to learn everything I could while I was here. I needed to learn everything before ending my loop and returning to the real monster
|
|
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
--
---
--
#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply.
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Reality. Everyone yearns it, right? What's a relationship if not real. What's the truth? Who am I? I want the real deal. The real brand. Real friends. Real. Real. Real.
But it's all fake.
All of it is fake.
None of it can be real.
Everyone.
Every human experiences a different baseline of reality, a different view of the world, a different set of absolute truths, a different hierarchy of values. Maybe a reality does exist, one that isn't comprehensible by the human brain, designed for self preservation, filled with ego and the sense of self.
Yet.
Yet amidst it all, inside of me, I still feel a reality, and it feels as real as yours, and the objective reality, of which hereon forth I'll be calling... actuality.
My reality to me is as real as actuality, and your reality is as real to you as mine is to me.
So I got engulfed. This existential question, eating me up from the inside. My "reality" doesn't exist.
But it's interesting.
A seed.
A seed was placed inside of me, one of curiosity and of insight.
I want to know.
I want to know everyone's reality, experience it all, maybe if I just got to peer into the entirety of humanity, I could...
understand.
But that's ridiculous, right? how would that make any sense at all?
50 billion lifetimes.
an infinite number more.
I told you, I was obsessed. I learnt how to bend time to my will, I learned how to manipulate consciousness, and I learned to make myself immortal.
It was simple, really. Learn to live in every civilization, in every era. Live with a community of people, spend a lifetime with them.
Watch. Watch. Watch. Peering through their eyes and their consciousness and watching, hearing, feeling, as them. The first few times were weird, but they were the most human.
My father. My mother.
I learnt they were completely different from me. If actuality was a huge universal completeness, my drop in the pond of actuality was completely disjoint from my parents. Surely, my sister? My friends? The love of my life? My childhood friend? No, no, no, no, no.
I lived as everyone, knew everyone, saw everything.
No one knew me nearly as I knew everyone.
Serial killers, politicians, rapists. They too, I peered into.
Here I am now, living in my reality, outside of space and time, knowing all there is to know about realities, about actuality. And realizing that I know none of it, because I am human. I have lived as a human, more specifically, I have lived as every human.
Destroyed.
Destroyed now, is my sense of reality. The one I used to call mine.
Me.
Me. Myself, I. I don't know who that is anymore.
Is my reality now the same as the one before I saw through the eyes of everyone?
Is my reality now any closer to actuality?
Am I the most human now, or the least human of all?
What am I?
I had thrown away everything for reality, and I am now left with less of it.
I tried to convince myself, that maybe there is a greater being that had the view of actuality.
There is.
There is a being, who knows everything, who has seen everything there is to see, who has the most objective, most baseline view of actuality.
Really?
No way, right?
And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.
I will experience it all.
Again.
Forever.
"seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable"
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
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Tried a different style of writing, hope people enjoy this! Also feel free to tell me if you spot any mistakes or improvements because I'm way too tired to edit this right now
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
I'm almost ready.
She smiles at me as I give her the bottle of perfume. It's her favorite, and rare, and I was lucky that there's a bottle here in town.
I've lost count of how many times I've handed her that same box, wrapped in a delicate floral pattern. I've lost count of how often her fingers dance over the ribbon and tape. Sunlight reflects off the mica powders in her nail polish. She bites her lower lip, chewing on a stray piece of skin. I want each moment pressed into my memory, as indelible as tattoos, as necessary as bone.
I'm almost ready.
"Oh, Lee. Where did you ever find it?" She asks.
"Just a store," I say. As if I haven't spent uncountable eons looking, visiting every store that even considered having a perfume counter. How lucky that one junk shop had a half full bottle.
She sprays the perfume on and the scent is heavy and sweet, and it's a scream in my memory and I hate it, and I never want it to go away. When this is over I might spray her side of the bed with it, or put it in a box and shove it into the furthest part of my closet, or set it on the mantle beside all the pictures of her I can find.
When this is over.
When.
I'm almost ready.
She puts the box of perfume away, folds the wrapping paper. Coils the ribbon around her fingers. As she does, I remember the first day. Unknowing, uncaring, her and I walking down the footpath beside the river. Her talking about something (what was she talking about?) and I'm just thinking about the car, how to get it fixed again, and maybe I'll fix her shrimp scampi for our anniversary, and there's a new book I want to read. I'm not thinking about her because I don't think I need to.
Until she stops.
"Lee", she says. "Lee," and I look at her, and the color red is bright as it drip, drip, drips off her chin onto the fabric beneath. It's like roses. Her eyes stare at me, pupils widening, widening, before she collapses like someone has cut her string. A part of me will try to remember the names of the fates. I can only remember Lotho, that first night. The ambulance comes, and I'm willing them to tell me something different, same as I'm willing my hands (one, two, three, four, five, six. Thirty beats a minute, and breathe, breathe, come on Ruby, breathe) to do something useful.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
And I'm walking alone through a night that won't ever end, trying to remember what she was talking about on that walk. I keep feeling her collapse into my arms, and the smell of blood, and I look up at the sky and I wish, desperately, that I could have just one more day. One more day until I'm ready.
And I wake up, and I'm not on the street. I'm in our bed, and she is laying against me, warm and breathing, her pulse flutter-fast beneath my fingers. She stretches, turns to me, opens those eyes of hers, warm and brown like good whiskey, and says, "Good morning, Lee. What will we do today?"
And it was all I could do not to scream.
I thought it would be like letting go of a balloon. You just open your hand and the ribbon flies up. But it's more like the worship at some secret altar, a pagan place of dark magic that runs with the pulse and the tides. Here do I love you, in this place, in this hour.
I tried to save her forty seven times. The fifth time I stood in the emergency room and yelled, *she's going to die. She's dying right now. It's in her brain. Do something, you motherfuckers.* And she collapsed there, right there in the hospital atrium, whispering, *Lee, Lee*, as the roses bloom across her blouse and the blood runs red from her nose.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
Each time, each night, as the red-and-blue glitter of lights fade and those words, those hideous words, echo through my head like the screams I can't make anymore, I walk out beneath the stars and I wait for the one to shoot across the sky, and I think, *Just one more day. One more, until I'm ready.*
I know there won't be saving her. There isn't enough time between when I wake up beside her and her voice says, *Lee, Lee* as the roses bloom. There needs to be scans and a diagnosis and appointments for surgery, and that would take weeks. And I could maybe, maybe, convince somebody to do it...but that's a maybe. And that's just a temporary thing. Because this is going to happen, someday. We're all doomed. A clock ticks within each of us and just because I found a miracle that can turn the clock back one day doesn't mean I can stop her clock entirely. And I didn't listen to her by the river. I still don't know what she said to me before the first time she died.
She laughs at me now, and takes my hand. "What would you like to do, Lee? They're showing a great movie a couple streets over."
We've seen it ninety seven times. I can quote it all by heart. "Maybe. Or we could go for a walk. By the river."
She shrugs. "We can do that any old time, you know. I want to do something fun. Something amazing. I don't get to monopolize your attention very often, you know."
"Alright, Ruby. It's your pick," I say, and it's either going to be the movie or the gallery, and I don't care which.
Because the day will come when I don't stand under those stars. When I don't make that wish. I'll let go, and like the balloon this never-ending day will float away into the sea where all spent days go. And when I wake up alone for the first time, and every time thereafter...I don't want any regrets. I want to have worn myself to heartlessness. I want to be ready to move with the relentlessness of time.
And I'm not there.
Yet.
She wraps her arms around mine. It won't be the last time...but that time is coming.
I'm almost ready to let go.
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Reality. Everyone yearns it, right? What's a relationship if not real. What's the truth? Who am I? I want the real deal. The real brand. Real friends. Real. Real. Real.
But it's all fake.
All of it is fake.
None of it can be real.
Everyone.
Every human experiences a different baseline of reality, a different view of the world, a different set of absolute truths, a different hierarchy of values. Maybe a reality does exist, one that isn't comprehensible by the human brain, designed for self preservation, filled with ego and the sense of self.
Yet.
Yet amidst it all, inside of me, I still feel a reality, and it feels as real as yours, and the objective reality, of which hereon forth I'll be calling... actuality.
My reality to me is as real as actuality, and your reality is as real to you as mine is to me.
So I got engulfed. This existential question, eating me up from the inside. My "reality" doesn't exist.
But it's interesting.
A seed.
A seed was placed inside of me, one of curiosity and of insight.
I want to know.
I want to know everyone's reality, experience it all, maybe if I just got to peer into the entirety of humanity, I could...
understand.
But that's ridiculous, right? how would that make any sense at all?
50 billion lifetimes.
an infinite number more.
I told you, I was obsessed. I learnt how to bend time to my will, I learned how to manipulate consciousness, and I learned to make myself immortal.
It was simple, really. Learn to live in every civilization, in every era. Live with a community of people, spend a lifetime with them.
Watch. Watch. Watch. Peering through their eyes and their consciousness and watching, hearing, feeling, as them. The first few times were weird, but they were the most human.
My father. My mother.
I learnt they were completely different from me. If actuality was a huge universal completeness, my drop in the pond of actuality was completely disjoint from my parents. Surely, my sister? My friends? The love of my life? My childhood friend? No, no, no, no, no.
I lived as everyone, knew everyone, saw everything.
No one knew me nearly as I knew everyone.
Serial killers, politicians, rapists. They too, I peered into.
Here I am now, living in my reality, outside of space and time, knowing all there is to know about realities, about actuality. And realizing that I know none of it, because I am human. I have lived as a human, more specifically, I have lived as every human.
Destroyed.
Destroyed now, is my sense of reality. The one I used to call mine.
Me.
Me. Myself, I. I don't know who that is anymore.
Is my reality now the same as the one before I saw through the eyes of everyone?
Is my reality now any closer to actuality?
Am I the most human now, or the least human of all?
What am I?
I had thrown away everything for reality, and I am now left with less of it.
I tried to convince myself, that maybe there is a greater being that had the view of actuality.
There is.
There is a being, who knows everything, who has seen everything there is to see, who has the most objective, most baseline view of actuality.
Really?
No way, right?
And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer.
I will experience it all.
Again.
Forever.
"seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable"
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
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Tried a different style of writing, hope people enjoy this! Also feel free to tell me if you spot any mistakes or improvements because I'm way too tired to edit this right now
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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I'm almost ready.
She smiles at me as I give her the bottle of perfume. It's her favorite, and rare, and I was lucky that there's a bottle here in town.
I've lost count of how many times I've handed her that same box, wrapped in a delicate floral pattern. I've lost count of how often her fingers dance over the ribbon and tape. Sunlight reflects off the mica powders in her nail polish. She bites her lower lip, chewing on a stray piece of skin. I want each moment pressed into my memory, as indelible as tattoos, as necessary as bone.
I'm almost ready.
"Oh, Lee. Where did you ever find it?" She asks.
"Just a store," I say. As if I haven't spent uncountable eons looking, visiting every store that even considered having a perfume counter. How lucky that one junk shop had a half full bottle.
She sprays the perfume on and the scent is heavy and sweet, and it's a scream in my memory and I hate it, and I never want it to go away. When this is over I might spray her side of the bed with it, or put it in a box and shove it into the furthest part of my closet, or set it on the mantle beside all the pictures of her I can find.
When this is over.
When.
I'm almost ready.
She puts the box of perfume away, folds the wrapping paper. Coils the ribbon around her fingers. As she does, I remember the first day. Unknowing, uncaring, her and I walking down the footpath beside the river. Her talking about something (what was she talking about?) and I'm just thinking about the car, how to get it fixed again, and maybe I'll fix her shrimp scampi for our anniversary, and there's a new book I want to read. I'm not thinking about her because I don't think I need to.
Until she stops.
"Lee", she says. "Lee," and I look at her, and the color red is bright as it drip, drip, drips off her chin onto the fabric beneath. It's like roses. Her eyes stare at me, pupils widening, widening, before she collapses like someone has cut her string. A part of me will try to remember the names of the fates. I can only remember Lotho, that first night. The ambulance comes, and I'm willing them to tell me something different, same as I'm willing my hands (one, two, three, four, five, six. Thirty beats a minute, and breathe, breathe, come on Ruby, breathe) to do something useful.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
And I'm walking alone through a night that won't ever end, trying to remember what she was talking about on that walk. I keep feeling her collapse into my arms, and the smell of blood, and I look up at the sky and I wish, desperately, that I could have just one more day. One more day until I'm ready.
And I wake up, and I'm not on the street. I'm in our bed, and she is laying against me, warm and breathing, her pulse flutter-fast beneath my fingers. She stretches, turns to me, opens those eyes of hers, warm and brown like good whiskey, and says, "Good morning, Lee. What will we do today?"
And it was all I could do not to scream.
I thought it would be like letting go of a balloon. You just open your hand and the ribbon flies up. But it's more like the worship at some secret altar, a pagan place of dark magic that runs with the pulse and the tides. Here do I love you, in this place, in this hour.
I tried to save her forty seven times. The fifth time I stood in the emergency room and yelled, *she's going to die. She's dying right now. It's in her brain. Do something, you motherfuckers.* And she collapsed there, right there in the hospital atrium, whispering, *Lee, Lee*, as the roses bloom across her blouse and the blood runs red from her nose.
Probable aneurysm.
Nothing we can do.
Each time, each night, as the red-and-blue glitter of lights fade and those words, those hideous words, echo through my head like the screams I can't make anymore, I walk out beneath the stars and I wait for the one to shoot across the sky, and I think, *Just one more day. One more, until I'm ready.*
I know there won't be saving her. There isn't enough time between when I wake up beside her and her voice says, *Lee, Lee* as the roses bloom. There needs to be scans and a diagnosis and appointments for surgery, and that would take weeks. And I could maybe, maybe, convince somebody to do it...but that's a maybe. And that's just a temporary thing. Because this is going to happen, someday. We're all doomed. A clock ticks within each of us and just because I found a miracle that can turn the clock back one day doesn't mean I can stop her clock entirely. And I didn't listen to her by the river. I still don't know what she said to me before the first time she died.
She laughs at me now, and takes my hand. "What would you like to do, Lee? They're showing a great movie a couple streets over."
We've seen it ninety seven times. I can quote it all by heart. "Maybe. Or we could go for a walk. By the river."
She shrugs. "We can do that any old time, you know. I want to do something fun. Something amazing. I don't get to monopolize your attention very often, you know."
"Alright, Ruby. It's your pick," I say, and it's either going to be the movie or the gallery, and I don't care which.
Because the day will come when I don't stand under those stars. When I don't make that wish. I'll let go, and like the balloon this never-ending day will float away into the sea where all spent days go. And when I wake up alone for the first time, and every time thereafter...I don't want any regrets. I want to have worn myself to heartlessness. I want to be ready to move with the relentlessness of time.
And I'm not there.
Yet.
She wraps her arms around mine. It won't be the last time...but that time is coming.
I'm almost ready to let go.
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Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
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#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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At first I visited my friends. During the pandemic, I had been a hermit, mostly avoiding people, so as soon as time started repeating, I visited all the people I cared about. At first it was my close and local friends. Then I drove---sometimes hundreds of miles to see my more distant friends. I got reacquainted again. I kind of had to barge into their lives sometimes, but it was worth it to reconnect, and they would never mind because 24 hours later they would not remember.
After my friends came family. I did not miss them because I still saw them during the pandemic, but I was always hurried by work. Now time was repeating, I could spend as much time as I liked with all of them. It was great to learn all of the stories my parents knew from their past. I really got to know what my daughter experienced in college and her travels. I got to know my son much more deeply.
It took a while to figure out how to get on a plane because I did not have proof of vaccination. After trying for a month, I figured out how to get the correct papers from my doctor in time to fly. (I could bribe anyone because all of my debts were forgiven 24 hours later!) I flew to the Bahamas, Mexico, Canada, every state, and most of the Caribbean. It was great to scuba dive again with the best equipment that money could buy on short notice. I skied Whistler in Canada every "weekend" for a year.
And then I began to learn --- martial arts, cooking, sewing, basic woodworking, outdoor survival (it was winter with a little snow every day locally, but I could easily fly a few hundred miles to hike any terrain in all kinds of weather), home repair, electronics,... I read every book in my library which must have taken a few years and then I got into the local university library. The internet had thousands of papers for me to read. I learned and relearned physics, chemistry, engineering, math, philosophy, and psychology. I never really developed a passion for painting, but I did finally get the time to learn how to play the piano, guitar, and even the trumpet.
Windsurfing took months mostly because I had to get on a plane and I only got in a couple of hours of actual surfing before the sunset. I managed to learn bartending in the Bahamas after windsurfing.
I missed relationships. No one remembered anything I did for more than 24 hours. I had my family and my friends, which was nice, but none of my relationships evolved with me. Still, I think I got to know a few hundred people over the years, even though it was only a few hours for them.
I think it has been almost a hundred years now. I have amazing plans. I think I'm finally ready for the first day of the rest of my life.
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I already knpw what made her heart race. I know exactly what it is I do that pisses her off. I can tell within a breath of a moment that she's bored or happy or distracted.
I thought I was being punished, reliving our life together over and over..all the pain, all the tears. Both of us had regrets, missed opportunities. I finally got it thru my thick skull the replays were about exploring all of those. I have been her husband...I have been just a fuckbuddy and watched her marry someone else... On a few occasions, I just observed at a distance and she never knew who I was.
I could have stopped the replays years ago. It has always been a matter of accepting the past. I do. I acknowledge and accept our past. But that face...that temper..that passion she put into everything.
I have memorized every single line of her face. I know every fear and every shortcoming.
I know how selfish and how cruel.
Not her.
Me.
I was her flaw in character. She loved me enough to give my opinions and fears and loves and biases, parts of her life. And I SO blew it.
I made her less than what she could have been. And now I know what she could have been without me.
But I can't stop looking at her.
After all this time, I'm so entranced .
I'm ready to end the loop. Right here. Looking at you over dinner on our 3rd date.
All I can do is look at you, resting my cheek in my hand, and sigh.
I am totally yours my love. And I have been for centuries.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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Antonine had never intended for any of this to happen. What kind of monster would? No, the ritual that sacrificed an entire city was supposed to be a death repelling barrier, that is what the ancient scrolls said, but apparently death repelling did not mean keeping the undead out.
For centuries Antonine had been trapped in the aftermath of a necromancer scourge, and every time they killed him, he would reawaken at the moment the ritual had been completed. The moment his wife and children, who had been in the inner circle of the ritual dropped dead.
The first hundred times he'd found himself in this room, looking at his wife's glassy eyes staring at him, it was a pain so deep he wanted to die. He even tried to make it happen on more than one occasion, so he might join his family beyond the veil. But sadly, that just meant he had to return even sooner.
The following hundred times resulted in him being brutally murdered by the undead horde, but after looping back so many times killing a few thousand skeletons was like taking a stroll in the park.
But now was different. Antonine was an old man, wise and powerful beyond compare. He'd mastered spells thought impossible to learn and devised rituals that could finally break the cycle. He could not return the life energy from the sacrificed he'd used, the god of death would not allow for such a theft, but he could return what had yet to be taken. Millenia of years would be returned to his people.
But more than that, his wife and children, their voices which he'd long since forgotten would fill the halls. Gulping his nervousness down, he made the cut letting his life flow out as he channeled it in a ritual so complicated not even a hundred other mages could perform it together.
Antonine closed his eyes which had become so heavy. It was satisfying to know that the barrier would even be raised as intended. If only he...
The world grew dark and he felt the fabric of time warp around him. It was surprising that he'd returned, that wasn't supposed to happen. Antonine expected to see the same horrifying sight of his wife, but instead she was alive. She was screaming and crying, but that didn't matter, she was finally alive.
"Don't you dare die, I need you my love."
'So that is what her voice sounded like.' Antonine thought before the world went dark and silent.
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I already knpw what made her heart race. I know exactly what it is I do that pisses her off. I can tell within a breath of a moment that she's bored or happy or distracted.
I thought I was being punished, reliving our life together over and over..all the pain, all the tears. Both of us had regrets, missed opportunities. I finally got it thru my thick skull the replays were about exploring all of those. I have been her husband...I have been just a fuckbuddy and watched her marry someone else... On a few occasions, I just observed at a distance and she never knew who I was.
I could have stopped the replays years ago. It has always been a matter of accepting the past. I do. I acknowledge and accept our past. But that face...that temper..that passion she put into everything.
I have memorized every single line of her face. I know every fear and every shortcoming.
I know how selfish and how cruel.
Not her.
Me.
I was her flaw in character. She loved me enough to give my opinions and fears and loves and biases, parts of her life. And I SO blew it.
I made her less than what she could have been. And now I know what she could have been without me.
But I can't stop looking at her.
After all this time, I'm so entranced .
I'm ready to end the loop. Right here. Looking at you over dinner on our 3rd date.
All I can do is look at you, resting my cheek in my hand, and sigh.
I am totally yours my love. And I have been for centuries.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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A little boy lies still, eyes shut, skin pale. The coffin closes amidst muffled grieving. Poor Tim, such a nice child, friendly to everyone. Lyra would never hear an unkind word about the boy, now or ever. But if he lives, people are anything but kind to him. She knows what happens if she saves him.
Lyra has lived a relatively full life, died, and been reborn nearly fifty thousand times, though she no longer keeps count. On the first repeat she saved Tim. No heroics; just count down the days to the accident, then position Tim elsewhere. But the suffering which followed was too complex to correct in any number of iterations. She wanted to care about him. But the thought exhausts her; it's so much easier to let him pass quietly.
She pushes down the guilt. After all, none of this is really happening. Or rather, what is happening now will soon not have happened. Anyways. Every other human on earth enjoys a fresh start at the same time as she. Only difference is, she alone remembers the other timelines. Does she carry the sins of those past lives, or does even God forget after the world resets?
No, she'll do things the right way on the final run, if such a thing comes to pass. Right now, she wants to live. Life is all she wants; the thought of bringing this journey to a close, of experiencing true death and total nonexistence thereafter, absolutely terrifies her. She's experienced so much, and yet it's an infinitesimal sliver compared to an infinite future.
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I already knpw what made her heart race. I know exactly what it is I do that pisses her off. I can tell within a breath of a moment that she's bored or happy or distracted.
I thought I was being punished, reliving our life together over and over..all the pain, all the tears. Both of us had regrets, missed opportunities. I finally got it thru my thick skull the replays were about exploring all of those. I have been her husband...I have been just a fuckbuddy and watched her marry someone else... On a few occasions, I just observed at a distance and she never knew who I was.
I could have stopped the replays years ago. It has always been a matter of accepting the past. I do. I acknowledge and accept our past. But that face...that temper..that passion she put into everything.
I have memorized every single line of her face. I know every fear and every shortcoming.
I know how selfish and how cruel.
Not her.
Me.
I was her flaw in character. She loved me enough to give my opinions and fears and loves and biases, parts of her life. And I SO blew it.
I made her less than what she could have been. And now I know what she could have been without me.
But I can't stop looking at her.
After all this time, I'm so entranced .
I'm ready to end the loop. Right here. Looking at you over dinner on our 3rd date.
All I can do is look at you, resting my cheek in my hand, and sigh.
I am totally yours my love. And I have been for centuries.
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[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
|
Antonine had never intended for any of this to happen. What kind of monster would? No, the ritual that sacrificed an entire city was supposed to be a death repelling barrier, that is what the ancient scrolls said, but apparently death repelling did not mean keeping the undead out.
For centuries Antonine had been trapped in the aftermath of a necromancer scourge, and every time they killed him, he would reawaken at the moment the ritual had been completed. The moment his wife and children, who had been in the inner circle of the ritual dropped dead.
The first hundred times he'd found himself in this room, looking at his wife's glassy eyes staring at him, it was a pain so deep he wanted to die. He even tried to make it happen on more than one occasion, so he might join his family beyond the veil. But sadly, that just meant he had to return even sooner.
The following hundred times resulted in him being brutally murdered by the undead horde, but after looping back so many times killing a few thousand skeletons was like taking a stroll in the park.
But now was different. Antonine was an old man, wise and powerful beyond compare. He'd mastered spells thought impossible to learn and devised rituals that could finally break the cycle. He could not return the life energy from the sacrificed he'd used, the god of death would not allow for such a theft, but he could return what had yet to be taken. Millenia of years would be returned to his people.
But more than that, his wife and children, their voices which he'd long since forgotten would fill the halls. Gulping his nervousness down, he made the cut letting his life flow out as he channeled it in a ritual so complicated not even a hundred other mages could perform it together.
Antonine closed his eyes which had become so heavy. It was satisfying to know that the barrier would even be raised as intended. If only he...
The world grew dark and he felt the fabric of time warp around him. It was surprising that he'd returned, that wasn't supposed to happen. Antonine expected to see the same horrifying sight of his wife, but instead she was alive. She was screaming and crying, but that didn't matter, she was finally alive.
"Don't you dare die, I need you my love."
'So that is what her voice sounded like.' Antonine thought before the world went dark and silent.
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At first I visited my friends. During the pandemic, I had been a hermit, mostly avoiding people, so as soon as time started repeating, I visited all the people I cared about. At first it was my close and local friends. Then I drove---sometimes hundreds of miles to see my more distant friends. I got reacquainted again. I kind of had to barge into their lives sometimes, but it was worth it to reconnect, and they would never mind because 24 hours later they would not remember.
After my friends came family. I did not miss them because I still saw them during the pandemic, but I was always hurried by work. Now time was repeating, I could spend as much time as I liked with all of them. It was great to learn all of the stories my parents knew from their past. I really got to know what my daughter experienced in college and her travels. I got to know my son much more deeply.
It took a while to figure out how to get on a plane because I did not have proof of vaccination. After trying for a month, I figured out how to get the correct papers from my doctor in time to fly. (I could bribe anyone because all of my debts were forgiven 24 hours later!) I flew to the Bahamas, Mexico, Canada, every state, and most of the Caribbean. It was great to scuba dive again with the best equipment that money could buy on short notice. I skied Whistler in Canada every "weekend" for a year.
And then I began to learn --- martial arts, cooking, sewing, basic woodworking, outdoor survival (it was winter with a little snow every day locally, but I could easily fly a few hundred miles to hike any terrain in all kinds of weather), home repair, electronics,... I read every book in my library which must have taken a few years and then I got into the local university library. The internet had thousands of papers for me to read. I learned and relearned physics, chemistry, engineering, math, philosophy, and psychology. I never really developed a passion for painting, but I did finally get the time to learn how to play the piano, guitar, and even the trumpet.
Windsurfing took months mostly because I had to get on a plane and I only got in a couple of hours of actual surfing before the sunset. I managed to learn bartending in the Bahamas after windsurfing.
I missed relationships. No one remembered anything I did for more than 24 hours. I had my family and my friends, which was nice, but none of my relationships evolved with me. Still, I think I got to know a few hundred people over the years, even though it was only a few hours for them.
I think it has been almost a hundred years now. I have amazing plans. I think I'm finally ready for the first day of the rest of my life.
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[WP] You, a superhero, are awful at keeping your identity secret, yet somehow no villains have found you yet. 1 day after accidentally unmasking for the 30th time, you look online to find that the unmasked pictures of you are gone. There's a hackivist group dedicated to protecting your identity.
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"Nocturne, thank goodness. I...I need someone to talk to about this latest thing. Its...big." The man exclaimed, landing next to the dark skinned woman. His blue robe rippled in the wind as the two of them stood on a rooftop, overlooking the night of the city. While the blue halfmask obscured his brow, the grimace on his face spoke volumes. "I have...I've been looking into the rash of violent murders happening recently, and I hit a really creepy common thread." He continued, not waiting for her response. "Its...its me. I think all the victims are people who...people who saw me remove my mask." His voice almost broke. "I think someone is killing them to protect me? Or maybe its a side effect of the mask? I need your help."
"Sure. You know I've always got your back, Paragon." Nocturne replied, stepping up next to him. While he couldn't see her true features because her powers created a sort of overlay of dark magic over her, her voice always seemed calm and in control. "I'll help you with anything, what do you need me to do?" Her hand rested on his chest as she looked up at him, he could smell her lavender scented perfume.
"I need you to help me find who or what is doing this. I can't have people dying because of me." Paragon replied, his eyes squeezed shut. "I took up the mask to protect people, not to hurt them."
"Seems like you should be more careful." Nocturne replied with a shake of her head. "But how can you even find something like this? If its a person, they would have to be able to monitor you constantly. If its an effect of the mask, its even harder to track." She reached around him and pulled him into a hug. "I can tell its got you really upset though."
"Upset? People are dead. Doctors say its heart attacks, but its too common. One of them was a teenager!" Paragon snapped, pulling away from the hug to look out over the city. "It has to be magic. That's why I came to you. You're the most knowledgeable magic user in the city, you helped me figure out the mask. You have to help me with this. You think its the mask, or some deranged person? Why would they..." He paused. "They think they are helping me." He mumbled.
"Okay. I'll do some research, see if the mask could be causing it. But in the meantime, you have to be more careful. You're vulnerable when not wearing the mask." Nocturne stated, her voice still calm.
"You said you would help me with anything." Paragon repeated thoughtfully.
"Yeah, I mean it." Nocturne started.
"You're the most knowledgeable magic user in the city. You know me better than anyone." Paragon whirled around. "You marked my shadow back when I first donned the mask. To find me, you said." His tone deepened as his fist clenched.
"Paragon, don't jump to any conclusions." Nocturne replied, stepping away from him.
"You told me once you can attack someone through their shadow. It wouldn't leave a mark on the body." Paragon snapped, azure fire curling around his fist.
"They were a danger to you!" Nocturne shouted, her calm demeanor finally breaking. "Think, you big idiot. It gets out who you are, your enemies will catch you by surprise. They'll kidnap your parents! They'll kill your little sister. They'll stop at nothing to get the mask!" The woman trembled as her voice rose. "They had to be silenced, and I can't erase memories!" She covered her face in her hands. "I did what had to be done. What I had to do to protect you."
"You monster." Paragon snapped, magical power wreathing his body. "You killed so many people for me?"
"For us. For the world." Nocturne stammered. It was the first time he'd ever heard her cry. "Please..."
"Prepare yourself. I can't let this go." The man muttered, pointing his fingers at her.
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"And then they told me you hired them. Behind my back."
"We can't have villains finding out where you live, now can we?"
"No, no, you know that's not what it's about. Plenty of heroes are public these days, Captain Stingray has a fucking cooking show for Christ sake, that isn't what this is about at all."
"Well what is it about?"
"Oh you know good and well what this is fucking about. Stop treating me like a child."
"I'm very good at my job dear. Just be glad you lucked into such a good manager and lose the thought from your pretty little head, whatever it might be."
"My pretty little head? Did you just say my pretty little head?"
"Ah, well, your head dear... I suppose they told you why I hired them..."
"Unmarketable, they said. What does that even fucking mean?"
"Well, it's just, if these pictures got out, we would lose a large part of our market... We need buyers for the merchandise after all, dear"
"So we'd lose some of my female followers, big who-"
"I think you grossly underestimate the potential impact of these images getting out."
"So what, it's just because I'm not photogenic, not conventionally handsome?"
"I wouldn't put it so, ah, mildly my dear"
"but that's it then, isn't it?"
"It's all PR, darling, it's best to leave what's behind the mask to the publics imagination"
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[WP] You, a superhero, are awful at keeping your identity secret, yet somehow no villains have found you yet. 1 day after accidentally unmasking for the 30th time, you look online to find that the unmasked pictures of you are gone. There's a hackivist group dedicated to protecting your identity.
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Megan didn’t expect a lot of things that happened after she had called her university’s security department for an escort to her car.
For starters, she didn’t expect her escort to be roughly seven feet tall with biceps bigger around than her waist. She *certainly* didn’t expect him to be clad in a skintight onesie that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. In a nutshell, she didn’t expect to encounter—
“He-Bo! At, like, your service, ma’am,” the giant—presumably He-Bo—thundered with more than a hint of surfer dude.
“I think there’s been a mistake. I contacted security, and Officer Dan told me he’d help escort me to my car and deal with the guy who double-parked me.”
“Oh. Well, Officer Dan thought you might feel more comfortable with a bonafide superhero! He’s also busy with the movie he’s watching and didn’t really want to call a tow truck, so…he sent me instead.” He-Bo gave Megan an embarrassed smile as he fidgeted.“I hope that’s okay, miss…?”
“Megan. Just Megan is fine, He-Bo.” She stifled a laugh as the huge man almost melted in relief. “Thank you for being willing to walk me to my car.”
“Not a problem at all, Ms. Megan. It’s my job. Please lead the way.” He beamed at her.
The walk to the parking lot was not long, but it was steep, and it wasn’t long before Megan was panting and sweating in the muggy summer night. She took a long drink from her water bottle and wiped the perspiration from her forehead.
He-Bo nodded in unspoken agreement and, as she watched wide-eyed, he removed his mask and used it to mop the sweat off his flushed face. “It is *so* hot tonight,” he said, sweeping a generous amount of golden blonde curls to the side as they bounced down to an impressively chiseled jawline. “I’d go take a dip in the pool after this, but I’m on duty ‘till midnight and I can’t swim with my mask on.”
“You…ah…” Megan started, raising a finger, before closing her mouth and thinking better of it. “Right. I imagine swimming with a mask on wouldn’t be too comfortable. You’d probably need to take it off first.”
“You would think right, miss! Can’t do that. Or, y’know, not again.”
“What do you mean, ‘again’?”
A flush crept into He-Bo’s cheeks. “Well, I’ve messed up a few times. I’m still new to all this, so I forget how important it is to keep your mask on. Like last week, when I walked Ms. Jenkins across the street? She told me my mask had a hole in it and she could fix it. So I, uh, gave it to her.”
“Why was taking her up on that offer a mistake?”
“Because I gave it to her *right there*. I didn’t remember until I clocked out that I’d needed it for the rest of my shift.”
Megan stifled a laugh. “Well, that was just one time. It can’t be that big of a…”
“Then there was the time I remember I was fireproof, but my mask wasn’t, when I helped old man Robert put out his kitchen fire. Burned right off. Boy was my face red!”
*Probably not as red as it is right now,* Megan giggled to herself.
“But that’s only twice; it’s not THAT big of a deal,” she said, but he continued unabated.
“Then there was the time Ms. Lori cut herself and needed something to stop the bleeding.” He started counting on his fingers.
“When it got soaked during a thunderstorm and I had to take it off because I almost drowned. That time Danielle was really cold and didn’t have a hat. When I found a litter of stray kittens last winter and didn’t have anything else to keep them warm. That time I…”
“You know, He-Bo,” she cut him off. “It seems like masks are an awful big hassle. Why do you bother wearing them?”
He-Bo gave a dazzlingly white smile. “You sound like my grandma. She says I shouldn’t worry about wearing a mask but that’s, like, the first rule of superheroing!” He slammed one ham-sized fist into his palm to emphasize the point. “If they don’t know who I am, they can’t come after my family! I know grammy can fend for herself but I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. That’s why I’m glad I’ve got my own team!”
“Your own team? I thought you worked alone.”
“I thought I did, too! But after the last time I forgot my mask at home, I got to thinking. Lots of people have seen my face now. But no one’s ever connected me to my secret identity. *Everyone* has cameras now, and I know *someone* has to have known, but there’s no pictures. Nobody’s unmasked me like they did Goliath and Master Fist last year. So there’s only one explanation.”
He-Bo leaned in conspiratorially. “I have a team. People who help keep my identity secret by getting rid of those pictures from the internet. I’m real, real bad at computers, so I know someone else has to be helping me. I hope I get to meet them and thank them one day!”
Megan tried, she swore she did, but she couldn’t stop her jaw dropping in surprise. “You’ve…never met them? How do you know they exist?”
He-Bo gave another wide grin. “People are generally good. They don’t want other people getting hurt. People see me helping others, and want to help me. Most people aren’t as strong as me so they do whatever they can. Lots of people are good at computers, and it’s a lot easier to keep your secret identity that way! It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Megan’s mind spun through a hundred different reasons why no, that was not the only thing that made sense, but each one fizzled out under his genuine smile. She might *be* right, but she didn’t have the heart, so she just went with the tried and true standby: smile and nod.
“That does make sense, He-Bo. You must make a big difference for them to be willing to do that for you.”
“All in a day’s work, Ms. Megan. After all, what comes around is all around.”
“I think you mean, ‘what goes around, comes around’.”
“I…huh.” He rested his chin in his palm for a second as he thought, before saying, slowly, “I think that makes more sense. We learn something new every day, Ms. Megan!” He-Bo gave a thunderous laugh. “And speaking of things coming around…I believe this is your car?”
He gestured to her SUV, which had been blocked into her spot by a poorly-parked truck with wheels so large the cab towered above even He-Bo. She sighed, and nodded.
“Well then. As you taught me, what goes around…”
With an exaggerated wink, He-Bo strode over to the truck. With as much effort as it took Megan to lift her morning cup of coffee, he single-handedly picked up the truck and held it easily over his head.
“There you are, Ms. Megan. I’ve escorted you safely to your car and ensured THIS dastardly double parker will face some hefty fines after I deliver this to the impound lot.” He waggled the truck, the metal groaning in protest as he used his other hand to offer her a card from a hidden pocket. “Thank you for the pleasure of your company, and please don’t hesitate to call upon my aid again! He-Bo, *AWAY!*”
Her mind reeling from the absurdity, capped off by a man-mountain literally skipping away while holding a truck like a paperweight, Megan almost missed the man in the car next to her. He looked at her and mouthed *He-Bo!!!*. She looked back and nodded…then froze as she saw him raise his phone to begin recording the maskless hero.
He did not, however, record that. Instead, he recorded three things: the shaky video of a hand pressed into the camera phone.
A thinly veiled threat at the new and exciting places his phone would go if he didn’t turn it off right that instant.
And in the distance, a deflated heroic sigh, followed by a resigned, “Darnit, not *again*…”
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"And then they told me you hired them. Behind my back."
"We can't have villains finding out where you live, now can we?"
"No, no, you know that's not what it's about. Plenty of heroes are public these days, Captain Stingray has a fucking cooking show for Christ sake, that isn't what this is about at all."
"Well what is it about?"
"Oh you know good and well what this is fucking about. Stop treating me like a child."
"I'm very good at my job dear. Just be glad you lucked into such a good manager and lose the thought from your pretty little head, whatever it might be."
"My pretty little head? Did you just say my pretty little head?"
"Ah, well, your head dear... I suppose they told you why I hired them..."
"Unmarketable, they said. What does that even fucking mean?"
"Well, it's just, if these pictures got out, we would lose a large part of our market... We need buyers for the merchandise after all, dear"
"So we'd lose some of my female followers, big who-"
"I think you grossly underestimate the potential impact of these images getting out."
"So what, it's just because I'm not photogenic, not conventionally handsome?"
"I wouldn't put it so, ah, mildly my dear"
"but that's it then, isn't it?"
"It's all PR, darling, it's best to leave what's behind the mask to the publics imagination"
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[WP] You, a superhero, are awful at keeping your identity secret, yet somehow no villains have found you yet. 1 day after accidentally unmasking for the 30th time, you look online to find that the unmasked pictures of you are gone. There's a hackivist group dedicated to protecting your identity.
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**I had an idea but i kinda ran out of steam but figured i would post what i had.**
"I was reported?" the gears slowly turning at the implications, the last of which would be a bullet in the head for myself and my family...if i was anyone else.
"Dont worry we've got you covered" whispered the man in the hoody through the short shelf.
"Why protect me? I'm sure there are plenty more deserving of the save" I mumbled as i pretended to read the nutrition facts on a bag of chips.
"You got lucky. Our man on the inside intercepts reports and destroys them," came the voice again. "You kept getting caught on camera ."
"More like you got lucky" I mumbled as i picked up another bag of chips.
"Oh we were curious about your powers, you kept setting off red flags up but the government wouldn't move on a powered individual without knowing their threat level" said the man as he mirrored my movement.
"Its hard to explain" i said as i eyed the camera over the cash register while depositing an arm full of junk food onto the counter. "ill also take a Powerball ticket" i say sliding cash across the counter.
The bell rings as three men with shotguns and ski-masks storm the convenience store. My friend in the hoody dropping to the floor in the isle behind me.
"Everyone on the ground and you wont get hurt" Shouts the tallest of the three men as he rushes towards me. I look at him and cock my head to the side. "that means you bitch!" he shouts pushing me to the floor.
A shotgun blast fills the store as the lead robber's knee exploded. His companion struggling to his feet having tripped in the entryway.
I quickly get to my feet and grabbed my bag of goodies off the counter sprinting out the door jumping over the robbers. "Come on Hoody I have something for you and i would rather not be here when the cops show up"
"Shit! John I'm sorry!" shouted the second man in a skimask as he struggled to his feet.
I quicky get to my feet and grabbed my bag of goodies off the counter sprinting out the door jumping over the robbers. "Come on Hoody I have something for you and i would rather not be here when the cops show up"
He caught up to me around the corner breathing heavily as sirens filled the night air. "what the fuck was that?"
"Thats my power, and this should help you with what you do" i said with a smile handing him the Powerball ticket.
"You can summon gunman! that's an awful power" he said incredulously.
"Its the side effect trouble follows me" I say with a grin "That should help you help more people" i say nodding towards the ticket in his hand.
"How does this help?"
"Im a god of luck dipshit" i shout over my shoulder as i make my way home.
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"And then they told me you hired them. Behind my back."
"We can't have villains finding out where you live, now can we?"
"No, no, you know that's not what it's about. Plenty of heroes are public these days, Captain Stingray has a fucking cooking show for Christ sake, that isn't what this is about at all."
"Well what is it about?"
"Oh you know good and well what this is fucking about. Stop treating me like a child."
"I'm very good at my job dear. Just be glad you lucked into such a good manager and lose the thought from your pretty little head, whatever it might be."
"My pretty little head? Did you just say my pretty little head?"
"Ah, well, your head dear... I suppose they told you why I hired them..."
"Unmarketable, they said. What does that even fucking mean?"
"Well, it's just, if these pictures got out, we would lose a large part of our market... We need buyers for the merchandise after all, dear"
"So we'd lose some of my female followers, big who-"
"I think you grossly underestimate the potential impact of these images getting out."
"So what, it's just because I'm not photogenic, not conventionally handsome?"
"I wouldn't put it so, ah, mildly my dear"
"but that's it then, isn't it?"
"It's all PR, darling, it's best to leave what's behind the mask to the publics imagination"
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[WP] You, a superhero, are awful at keeping your identity secret, yet somehow no villains have found you yet. 1 day after accidentally unmasking for the 30th time, you look online to find that the unmasked pictures of you are gone. There's a hackivist group dedicated to protecting your identity.
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“Heronymous?”
“Yes.” The grating, disembodied voice said on the other said of the phone.
“You protect super heroes?”
“We do.”
“Why haven’t I heard of you before?”
“Well…secrecy is kind of our thing.”
Jeffery didn’t know what to say next. About two months ago he had acquired the ability to move things without touching them; telepathically. About 0.00001% of the human population would develop some super natural ability in their lifetime. It wasn’t always the case, but since the genetic engineering experiments of the 22nd century, which have since been banned, a recessive superpower gene had entered the pool. Now the odd bi-pedal thinking monkey would develop certain abilities that often defied all understanding of physics.
Tragically, most the powers had a small caveat to them. In the case of Jeffery, his power required ethanol to catalyse. Meaning, he would need to get drunk in order to use his power. Unable to ever really hold his liquor, most of his crime-fighting escapades led to a few embarrassing moments, most of which ended up revealing his identity. Not that he tried particularly hard to hide it, going to a college party and trying to impress all the girls by telekinetically removing their bras was slightly more conspicuous than a mask and spandex.
“But there was quite a lot of videos.” Jeffery finally said after a long, confused pause.
“They have all been deleted.” The crackly voice replied.
“What about all the people that actually saw me do it.”
“No one will believe them, now that there’s no evidence.”
“What about the police report?”
“I assure you.” The voice said in a tone that reminded Jeffery of fancy lawyer in some legal tv-drama. “All evidence has been expunged.”
“What about the farm owner?” This time it was the man on the other side of the line's turn to give a long, confused pause.
“I think I killed one his cows.” Jeffery continued.
“A hurricane.” The man said suddenly, “It’s chalked up to a hurricane.”
“What, a hurricane blew a single cow three miles down the road?”
“Again, Jefferey, all evidence linking you to the incident has been removed. However, we are not an organisation with unlimited resources. This is your only and final warning. Any more incidents revealing your abilities and we will no longer protect your identity.” Although the voice was obfuscated, Jeffery could taste a hint of frustration.
“What about the monkeys?”
The person on the other side hung up.
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# Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 5, Part 1: Clara Olsen v.s. Social Media)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**"As of now, you no longer exist."** Frederick handed me a tablet, crisp suit rippling in the wind. "Congratulations."
Numbly, I took the device and scrolled through it. *Wikipedia -> Clara Olsen: No results. Reverse Image Search -> Clara Olsen: No Results. National Persons Registry -> Clara Olsen: No Results.*
"...I never told you to wipe my digital fingerprint," I finally said.
"You're not some indie superhero anymore, Ms. Olsen. You're backed by the government. We have more resources than you could ever dream of." Frederick smirked. "As you've had firsthand experience with."
I scowled. "Yes, and just like when I was on the run, you've somehow managed to misuse those resources to the point of counterproductivity."
"Misuse?" Frederick narrowed his eyes. "Ms. Olsen, during your tenure as a superhero, you were spotted unmasked on thirty separate occasions. Your identity—"
"Is a tool, like anything else." I folded my arms. "Back when I was still mayor, do you know how much free publicity the 'secret' of my nightly jaunts as a superhero got me? It has all the benefits of philanthropy without the icky connotations of virtue signaling."
"You're not a publicist anymore, Clara. You're a superhero."
"I'm both, and I always will be." I poked Frederick in the nose; as always, my passive empathy linked us at the momentary contact, sharing our emotions. He blinked, reeling back. "I don't have a flashy superpower like Death did or a kill-everything-in-a-hundred-mile-radius ability like Big Guns. The only thing I've got going for me is empathy. Connection. And to *leverage* those connections, I sort of need to, you know, *exist.*" I paused. "So if you'd put those pictures back where you found them..."
Frederick grimaced. "It's not nearly as simple as that, Clara. Up until recently, you were the target of a smear campaign—"
"Oh, no, a smear campaign!" I put my hands to my face in a mock expression of horror. "What a shame! If only our friendly local quasi-fascist government had complete control over the flow of information in the Unified Sovereignties! You erased my presence from the Internet in a day; you can wipe out the last traces of that smear campaign if you want to."
Frederick pressed his lips together, displeased.
I grinned, though there was no mirth in it. Likely, there wouldn't be for quite some time. "What, did you really think I'd let you wipe me off the digital map and leave my image under your control? I agreed to do your dirty work for you—but to do that, I need my tools. My connections. So work your hackers' magic and get me my reputation back."
Frederick sighed. "You make working with you needlessly confrontational, Ms. Olsen. We are your friends, not your foes."
"I'll believe it when I see it. Just like anyone else on the internet these days."
"You have enemies," Frederick said suddenly. "They'll know where to find you, if we put your digital footprints back up."
I gave Frederick an empty stare. "You already know where to find me," I said.
Then I tossed him back his tablet and turned to leave.
I had a job to do.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day.
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[WP] After years of being hunted, a group of dragons decide to go undercover as humans using their magic. When 20 years come and go, they all regroup and discuss their experiences with each other.
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"Laz, you still doing the K9 consultant thing with Spike?" Martha passed the salami tray down the table, brushing crumbs away from her notes.
"Nah, we've moved on from that. I found out you can put pictures of cute dogs in the internet and make money off of it. Old Spike's a chihuahua now. We had a break-in last year, though. He's a cute dog, but it's just a touch *fucking terrifying* watching that little jaw unhinge and grow to three times it's size to bite someone's arm off. Looked like a demented caricature."
"What happened to the breeder?" Silvan gestured to the basket of bread on Salazar's end of the table. The most perfectly golden brown roll Salazar had ever seen lifted out of the towels and floated into Silvan's open hand. He died a bit inside as the man winked and bit into it.
"That old warlock nut? Decided against it. No telling what else would happen if I let a pack of hellhounds run around. On the other hand, it *was* 2020. Not much else could've gone wrong. Though, speaking of breeding..." Laz elbowed Salazar and grinned mischievously. "Saly, anything you want to share with the family about *breeding?*"
"Ha! Told you the recliner would help!" Mordecai cheered, nearly spilling his beer, "And now you've got a bah-bee!"
"Okay, first of all, the *woman* is supposed to lay back, not the man. The recliner did nothing but give me sciatica. Secondly, not *a* baby. We had twins."
"Two more for the ol' *homo draconian*!" The man nearly fell out of his chair as he stabbed his tankard-laden hand into the air in a salute before shoving a spoonful of beef stew into his maw.
"We're not sure they'll be like us. The magic's fading." Saly took a moment to assess the looks on their faces. "You guys feel it, don't you?"
"... I do. The humans have nothing unexplored on the Earth. Nothing they *know* exists, at least. All the mystery is gone in the world." Silvan took a quick sip of his wine, brushing his long black hair behind his ear, "Maybe it's time to start thinking about Shifting out, like Tamias did a few meetings back."
There was a moment of silence. Consideration. Eyeing the empty seats at their table, left in honor of those who decided to travel to alternate dimensions rather than stay and be hunted or suffer the fate of watching everyone around them fade out.
Laz pictured Saly at home, dancing with Sally as they gently rocked their spawn to sleep. Salazar loved Sally with all his scaley heart, and as much as being with a human made Laz want to puke, they were good for each other. He'd not seen Salazar this happy in millennia. He knew Sal would accept his fate, wandering the Earth as its last immortal inhabitant, if it meant getting to watch over his descendants.
"Well, speaking of different realities, whooo's ready for some Dungeons And Us'ons?!" The men pound their drink against the table in a cheer as Martha set up her Gamemaster screen, "What'd you guys bring to the table for me this time?"
"Dragonborn Paladin" the other four said together, followed by looks of confusion.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, guys. This is the third time."
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We met in a dripping basement. Not so small we couldn’t all change to our dragon forms, but it was a little cramped.
“Chkh, what did you find?”
She came forward, a small human, half the size of a normal one. She seemed well. She shivered and went into her dragon form. “As you asked, I went underground, and”
“Undercover, you nitwit!”. The grand council had all he could do to hold his gavel in his claw. I thought I’d be helpful, leaned up to him and told him that if he dismissed her we wouldn’t have quorum. It was already hard to get quorum with five of us remaining. Yuff was acting goofy: “if we have to agree we’ll be adaptive!” That’s sky dragons for you, cryptic nonsense.
Pointless to talk about types of dragons when there’s one of us left for each, but I’ll tell you about us anyway:
Yuff is a weird atmosphere dragon, he doesn’t even own any molecules. Just the funny spaces between them. This seems to mean a lot to humans.
Chkh has heavy elements. She misses her distant relatives in our sun, and other suns.
Ek does organic molecules, the smell of mud or cooking shrimp. He spends a lot of his time sitting with Chkh, holding her claws, promising things elsewhere he couldn’t possibly accomplish. Promises only brought about by the birth and death of stars. We stay far from Ek and Chkh when they got moody.
Brin is currently acting as council, but most of the time he’s light, easy elements. Carbon, oxygen, nitrogen. He hates the job, but he’s our brother and will do it when it’s his turn.
Nobody likes it when it’s my turn to be council. I’m void. Vacuum. The part of the universe that pushes away, that declines. The space between molecules or stars. I guess I have the most in common with Yuff on the surface, but it feels so different.
I was annoyed that Chkh’s work was being ignored. She loved heavy elements, of course she went deep first! “What did Chkh find?”
Brin shot bubbles of hydrogen at me in sarcasm and understanding. I opened up a bit, let them flow into vastness and dark. “But seriously, what did she find?”
My heavy, elegant, solid sister said, “thanks brother. I found a human plan. I think you will all like this. Yuff, it’s made of you and me. Brin, my brother, it will celebrate you and feed you. Ek, they will need your help to stay alive out there.” She looked at me last, hooked a claw around mine. “Vis, you’ve never let anyone into the void. Will you allow it? Please?”
It took me a long time to become comfortable, and it only happened after that incident with the poor monkeys and dogs. I’d never felt a death in my void until then. I would agree to anything after that. Chkh wanted rockets with fancy metal/ceramic panels. I quickly agreed. Anything was better than death, and if people were coming into my void, I needed all of my siblings’ help.
Ek, Chck, Yuff, and Brin made sure the launches happened. I watched over them as they went through silent space. I’m not alone anymore, there are people up with me in a small module who remember the monkeys and the dog, who feel the silence. I hope they like the void. I like to fly with it, this ISS, it has two lovely wings and feels like a friend.
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[WP] After years of being hunted, a group of dragons decide to go undercover as humans using their magic. When 20 years come and go, they all regroup and discuss their experiences with each other.
|
It's drizzling outside, but that didn't stop the patron from coming and going to the Starlight Tavern. On the second floor, a table has been reserved for a special occasion, a reunion. After some time, four people arrived and gathered at the reserved table. To everyone's perspective, they only saw four humans who's probably close friend with each other (from their happy faces and joyous mood) and meeting each other again after some time. Probably Merchants or a bit of Nobility if you notice the fine jewelry and clothing, or the air around them. Not a rare sight since the Starlight Tavern is frequently visited by all manner of people of all classes.
If only they knew the truth. Those four are not actually humans, they are Dragons in disguise. And not just any dragons too, these four are the world famous Four Pillars of Light! For those of you that doesn't know the story, take a seat and listened to my tale.
For Untold Millenia, Dragon kind has rule over the World with an iron fist. Thanks to their massive size coupled with unmatched physical and magical might, there are none that can oppose a dragon in a fight, save for another dragon. Seeing themselves as the true ruler of the world, they see all the Mortal Races as inferior and fit only as slaves or entertainment. Forming the Draconis Imperium (Dragon Empire), the dragons split the world into several territories amongst themselves.
Every day, thousands of the lesser races died to the dragon's whim. Either from building massive structures, malnutrition, sacrifices, or just because a dragon felt like it. How many villages or town are burned to ashes just because a dragon felt like it, or a human or an elves slight a dragon, is too many too count. From time to time a rebellion would rose, to the amusement of the dragons only to be destroyed with ease.
Saddened and sympathizing with the plight of the Mortal Races, four great leader of the Draconis Imperium did the unthinkable. They betrayed their own kind and allied themselves with the rebellion. The four of them are the Brass Dragon, Matazar, the Bronze Dragon, Galinade, the Gold Dragon, Alextraza, and the Silver Dragon, Sterren.
I'll continue this story a bit later!
|
We met in a dripping basement. Not so small we couldn’t all change to our dragon forms, but it was a little cramped.
“Chkh, what did you find?”
She came forward, a small human, half the size of a normal one. She seemed well. She shivered and went into her dragon form. “As you asked, I went underground, and”
“Undercover, you nitwit!”. The grand council had all he could do to hold his gavel in his claw. I thought I’d be helpful, leaned up to him and told him that if he dismissed her we wouldn’t have quorum. It was already hard to get quorum with five of us remaining. Yuff was acting goofy: “if we have to agree we’ll be adaptive!” That’s sky dragons for you, cryptic nonsense.
Pointless to talk about types of dragons when there’s one of us left for each, but I’ll tell you about us anyway:
Yuff is a weird atmosphere dragon, he doesn’t even own any molecules. Just the funny spaces between them. This seems to mean a lot to humans.
Chkh has heavy elements. She misses her distant relatives in our sun, and other suns.
Ek does organic molecules, the smell of mud or cooking shrimp. He spends a lot of his time sitting with Chkh, holding her claws, promising things elsewhere he couldn’t possibly accomplish. Promises only brought about by the birth and death of stars. We stay far from Ek and Chkh when they got moody.
Brin is currently acting as council, but most of the time he’s light, easy elements. Carbon, oxygen, nitrogen. He hates the job, but he’s our brother and will do it when it’s his turn.
Nobody likes it when it’s my turn to be council. I’m void. Vacuum. The part of the universe that pushes away, that declines. The space between molecules or stars. I guess I have the most in common with Yuff on the surface, but it feels so different.
I was annoyed that Chkh’s work was being ignored. She loved heavy elements, of course she went deep first! “What did Chkh find?”
Brin shot bubbles of hydrogen at me in sarcasm and understanding. I opened up a bit, let them flow into vastness and dark. “But seriously, what did she find?”
My heavy, elegant, solid sister said, “thanks brother. I found a human plan. I think you will all like this. Yuff, it’s made of you and me. Brin, my brother, it will celebrate you and feed you. Ek, they will need your help to stay alive out there.” She looked at me last, hooked a claw around mine. “Vis, you’ve never let anyone into the void. Will you allow it? Please?”
It took me a long time to become comfortable, and it only happened after that incident with the poor monkeys and dogs. I’d never felt a death in my void until then. I would agree to anything after that. Chkh wanted rockets with fancy metal/ceramic panels. I quickly agreed. Anything was better than death, and if people were coming into my void, I needed all of my siblings’ help.
Ek, Chck, Yuff, and Brin made sure the launches happened. I watched over them as they went through silent space. I’m not alone anymore, there are people up with me in a small module who remember the monkeys and the dog, who feel the silence. I hope they like the void. I like to fly with it, this ISS, it has two lovely wings and feels like a friend.
|
|
[WP] It was supposed to be a routine software upgrade, but now roombas are tracing pentagrams and summoning minor demons all across the country. You work in tech support.
|
Larry, with his chin in his hand, stared blankly at the loading bar. His other hand rested on the mouse. It was almost time to go home - 4:50pm.
Ugh, Larry thought with a big sigh. He didn’t have plans that night, just the usual dinner with his wife, Netflix shows, and playing a game or two with friends. Well, doing nothing even sounds better than this… Larry rolled his eyes, to no audience but himself.
Larry glanced back at the loading bar and saw it go backwards. Larry let out a loud defeated chuckle - his cubicle neighbor, Roger, a very quiet and observant accounts payable man that’s only gone to Larry for help, rolled his eyes.
Am I cursed? Larry thought, as he shook the mouse. The loading bar went forward - to exactly where it was before.
It was now 4:52pm. Bored, he examined the brown spots on the ceiling tiles.
“Are you almost done yet?”
Larry’s boss, carrying a torn briefcase from the nineties, stood in front of Larry’s desk.
“It’s not me, it’s this software update that’s not done. It still hasn’t uploaded to the servers yet.”
Larry’s boss looked inquisitive. “That’s the first I ever heard of that. Usually this routine update is done in a pinch, which is why we save it for the end of the week… did you ask John?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess it doesn’t want you to go home today, huh?”
Larry didn’t answer.
Taking pity, his boss chimed, “Well, I got to go - hey, you can come in late on Monday if you want.”
“Thanks.”
Larry sat back in his chair, teetering it on its two back legs, taking his phone out of his pocket. He texted his wife, “This thing won’t budge.” She sent a sad emoji face right back at him.
He heard a low thud and looked. A Roomba that was part of a fleet that Facilities spent thousands on so they could lower janitorial hours, accidentally hit his cubicle. It turned to face Larry with its two green LED lights, paused for a second, turned 180*, and drove off.
The status bar turned green, and gave Larry a bell alert sound. “It’s done!” eagerly exclaimed Larry.
He heard rhythmic booming sounds that sounded like footsteps - from a very large thing. The windows in the office shook. Expecting a large creature, instead, he saw that same Roomba cozy up to the foot of his cubicle. Its two LED lights were now red and it moved erratically, as it was trying to communicate…
Right behind it was a looming, gray, gargoyle type of a creature that had to hunch down to not hit the ceiling. Larry saw its long tongue sticking out of its mouth, moving like a snake’s, mouth permanently fixed to look like a cruel smile. It was carrying, Larry blinked hard, a fucking laptop? Larry is literally about to pee his pants. He looked at the clock on his computer - 4:58pm. Larry wondered if he could convince this demon creature to let Larry see his wife, before it kills him.
The gargoyle rested his free arm on the cubicle wall. With the other arm, he presented Larry the laptop.
“I changed my password but it won’t let me log in. I already restarted twice.”
The stench from the gargoyle’s mouth blanketed his entire cubicle.
Roger stood up in his cubicle. “I had the exact problem last week! Even the guys at big shot Microsoft don’t know what they’re doing. You know, we never had problems like this a decade ago…” Larry didn’t mind Roger’s unfazed rambling - it was almost comforting.
“Um, let me see it…” Larry took the laptop and opened up the admin settings. He fixed the login error and handed it back to the gargoyle. The Roomba was still at the gargoyle’s feet.
“Thanks, sorry to come so late on a Friday, but hey, — you’re still on the clock, right?!” The gargoyle laughed, a painful high pitched series of inhales. Larry felt his heart in his throat.
“Yikes, tough crowd, well thanks man, I can finally email this out. Boss man wanted me to send this out earlier - it’s a speech that they needed for tomorrow. Anyway, thanks. And see you, Roger!”
Roger waved a hand, without looking up.
Larry, surreally curious, with a lot of fear in his voice, asked, “Who’s your boss? Is it… “ Larry gulped, “Lucifer?”
The gargoyle laughed in disbelief. “I wish. It’s your spectacular Cheeto-in-Chief. Can’t wait to get off that account. He’s such a tool. Won’t stop talking about himself. I think his account ends with us in a few years anyway, then he’ll get to start his first years in Hell interning for our Lucifer Himself. Come on, Roomba, let’s go before the portal closes up - I keep getting lost in here.”
The Roomba blinked at Larry and ushered the gargoyle away.
[Ah crap, I just realized I misread the prompt. I read “IT” instead of “tech support”!]
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There was no warning or whisper that the apocalypse was upon us. And no one from corporate told us it would begin today either when the latest update came out for the roombas and other carpet vacuums. The machines began summoning demons and causing havoc in every city on every continent. The latest update set the vacuums on the top of every government’s list of things to solve. There was discussion on how to rid the world of the problem. Some suggested shutting down the companies, others demanded retribution and compensation for damages and lost loved ones. In the end it was decided to organize responders from corporate that would deal with the Summoned and return the machines to their work because they did a great job of cleaning. That and shareholders and stakeholders didn’t want to loose profits. To this day I’m one of the remaining tech support staff left to handle my region. With more and more machines being activated it’s beginning to feel like the problem won’t ever end. Looks like I’m gonna go grab another cup of coffee.
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