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prompt stringlengths 16 1.36k | chosen stringlengths 225 8.1k | rejected stringlengths 227 8.35k | difficulty float64 0 0.02 | baseline_rewards dict | pointwise_scores dict |
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You are born into a wandering clan where everyone is gifted power over one of the four elements upon reaching adulthood. While the chief grants your sibling the element of fire, in a twist you are granted the element of surprise. | The firebenders within the clan,
Wage war with scorching flame;
The benders of the air,
Use hurricanes to harm and maim;
The waterbenders fell their foes,
By pulling out their blood,
Or drowning entire villages,
In monumental floods;
Earthbenders conjure massive rocks,
To use as ammunition;
But no-one expects benders,
From the Spanish Inquisition. | Water. Earth. Fire. Air. My grandmother used to tell me stories about the olden days, a time of peace when the Pathfinder kept the balance between the four elemental tribes—the Fire Tribe perched atop the molten volcanoes, the Water Dynasty by the river deltas, the Earth Kingdom in the great Stone Plains, and the Air Clan in their great skyward city. Legend had it that the Pathfinder was a being of immense power yet held no mastery over any of the elements. Through his power, three centuries worth of peace lasted throughout our world. And then he died, but this time, nobody came to replace him.
For over twenty years the Fire Tribe waited for his return. We waited through the tsunamis launched by the Water Tribe to drown out our volcanoes. We waited through the collapse of the Air Clan’s great floating city by the advanced weaponry of the Earthen Kingdom. We waited through the hurricanes and typhoons launched by the Air Tribe in a retaliation.
But no Pathfinder ever came.
Now, with the last of our ashen grounds, we prepare for war. A war to leave our world in char and to incinerate those who have invaded our sacred molten lands.
***
Serra’s heart matched the thumping war drums. Her grandmother hated that name—war drums. These were the sacred instruments of the Fire God. Their meaning surpassed any mortal conflict. But with half the tribal grounds already frozen in ice, the tribe had abandoned their time-honored traditions in favor of a more practical approach.
Everybody was now given mastery over fire, not just the soldiers. Housewives, doctors, teachers; one day, they would all take up arms and march to reclaim their lands.
That is… unless Serra took back the lands first. The thought brought a smile to her lips, but a fast fading one. The ceremony was starting. She nibbled on her bottom lip. A great flame sat in the middle of a circle of boys and girls on the cusp of adulthood. All were already 15 to 16 years of age.
Slowly, the fire expanded, nipping at their toes. Serra swallowed.
“I bet you’re the C’nuthu,” Minx muttered under his breath, a lopsided grin on his lips.
The last C'nuthu to appear was centuries ago. They were Fire Tribesmen that the Fire God rejected and burned in his flames.
Serra returned him a forced smile. “You better hope so. You’ll need the handicap for the training grounds.”
“Hand-to-hand combat is meaningless with magic.”
“Okay Mr. 23.” 23 times that he had challenged her in the training grounds and 23 times he had lost. She was the strongest of her class to such a margin that nobody dared to challenge her. Except Minx.
“21,” Minx corrected her and closed his eyes. “I’ll see you on the other side, Serra.”
The flames had reached their feet, engulfing them in a warm glow. Everyone around her had their eyes closed in a look of serenity as they let in the magic of their Fire God. Serra did the same, but she squeezed her eyes. The flames were biting, scorching her skin.
She clenched her teeth, if she could, she would’ve ground them to dust. Her skin sizzled. This certainly didn't feel like acceptance.
*No, I’m no C'nuthu!*
A low squeal escaped her throat as the fire made its way up her legs. She coughed out a cry. Tears formed beneath her eyelids and she dug her fingernails into her palms.
“Serra!” It was Minx’s voice. And then she felt his hands, grabbing her beneath her arms and dragging her away from their Fire God.
“No,” she cried and fought against his grip.
The C'nuthu was the embodiment of heresy itself, an embarrassment to the tribe. Serra had spent years training, learning, fighting. She had surpassed even her instructors in her devotion to her tribe. She was going to be the one to save them all.
She opened her eyes and caught the wide-eyed stares of her classmates, her tribesmen, and even her parents. Her feet glowed red with burns.
***
Serra stared at her bandaged feet as she sat up on the dirt floor of a makeshift medical tent. That's what it meant to be C'nuthu, the stone hospitals were reserved for the tribe, something she was no longer a part of. Through the thin canvas of the tent came the muffled words of her grandmother. Yet, no matter how Serra strained her ears, she could not make out those words or tell who her grandmother was talking to.
At last, the conversation ended. The tent flap opened.
"Grandma," Serra squeaked with tears in her eyes. All those years her grandma had taken care of her and this is how she returned the favor.
The village chief, Gorra, walked in. Once Gorra was the strongest of the Fire Tribe's soldiers. Now, he only had his scars to remind him of those days. A deep gouge that split his face diagonally; three claw marks down his chest from battle with the Water Dynasty's white bears; and a missing finger in his left hand.
Serra perked up and wiped her eyes. "Elder Gorra," she said. "My apologies."
Behind the village chief came her grandmother. Serra offered her grandma a small smile, but received only a clenched jaws and narrowed eyes.
"Serra," Gorra said with a rumbling voice. "You are the C'nuthu."
Serra's smile dropped. She nodded. Even a child knew the fate of C'nuthu--to wander the world, never to rejoin the Fire Tribe.
"I have told you the stories of the Pathfinder," her grandmother said, a quiver in her words. "Do you remember them?"
"Yes, grandma." Serra furrowed her brow, wondering why that, of all things, would be the topic of conversation.
"The tradition of the C'nuthu dates back far beyond my birth to the days of the Fire Tribe's founding," the village elder said. "It is the one thing we all share. Be us Fire Tribe, Water Dynasty, Earth Kingdom, or Air Clan. Though our names differ, we all have a legend of the C'nuthu."
Serra stared. This was the first she was hearing of this.
"My Fire," he grandmother said, tears swelling her eyes. "The C'nuthu, by the Air Clan, is called the Pathfinder."
Serra's breath caught and her lips curled up into a open-mouthed laugh. The chuckle caught in her throat. Neither the village elder nor her grandmother smiled back.
"You can't be serious," she said.
"The Pathfinder is not a power to belong to any tribe," Gorra said. "So you will be banished, your name forgotten, and your memory tarnished. When you return, you will do so as the Pathfinder to save our world."
"No," Serra muttered, shaking her head. She could care less about the world. All she wanted was to save her own tribe. "There's a mistake. I don't have any power, I don't even have fire."
"The power of the C'nuthu goes far beyond any flame. It is the power to rise where others fall for no reason except that you are the C'nuthu. If I were to guess"--a small smile split his lips--"it is the power of luck. Journey to the rubble of the Air Clan's crashed city. There, you will learn about yourself and hopefully, what you must do to restore balance to our world."
"But that's in Earth Kingdom!"
"And not even the power of the entire Fire Tribe can penetrate their forces, but you are C'nuthu. Serra, your destiny is your own, your time, your's to spend how you wish. But our tribe is fighting a losing war. We do not have the numbers of the Water Dynasties, the weapons of the Earth Kingdom, or the power of the Air Clan. If you truly wish to save the Fire Tribe, you must save the world as well."
"I'm so sorry," her grandmother muttered, tears dripping down her cheeks.
*No, that's my line grandma.* But Serra could not push the words out of her throat. Her cheeks had drained of blood and all she could return them was a gaping stare.
"We will have our best healer come to heal you and grant you supplies for the journey," the village elder said as he turned to leave. "I pray for your haste, for the sake of the Fire Tribe. Goodbye, C'nuthu, no, Pathfinder."
Her grandmother gave her one last teary look before turning and following the village elder out, leaving only Serra and her knotted stomach as she fought down the bile rising up her throat.
--- | 0.00641 | {
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Time travel exists. By law, every citizen is given one day they may repeat on loop until they get it right. This morning, you found your spouse looking exhausted and crying. "I can't save you. I've tried hundreds of times." | The heart monitor goes off...I sit there watching her tears spill forth freely. I already know what her plan is. I smile softly, knowing that she was going to use this day to spend on repeat for eternity. I shake my head at her. "Don't, please don't waste your time trying to rescue me. We knew this was coming" then she shakes her furiously "I've tried, several hundred different ways to save you. But I can't. I just can't" her head hangs there defeated. Heavy sobs coming forward from her. Then I know what it was that I must do. I hadn't used my day yet, it was my turn to rescue her.
I tell her that I need to use the phone to make sure it was all set-up for her. She nods going to get a nurse for me. She already knows what's going to happen, when she leaves. I die, well that was her version of reality. This time, however, I was going to save her. She'd failed several hundred times to rescue me. If it was my fate to die today, then I will live the rest of my life rescuing her. I called the agency, told them that I wanted today my day of death to be the last one. I wanted to repeat today, to rescue her.
They told it was rare, usually, people wanted to repeat their favorite days. They told me that if I was doing this to avoid my timeline ending. They won't let it happen, I shake my head. "No, I just want to rescue her. She keeps trying to rescue me. Please, let me rescue her" the man on the other line nods. "We'll grant it" I nod before death takes me.
I wake up, my eyes glance around me. "Thank god they allowed me this" with that I begin my mission. It would take quite a while for me to be able to make sure that everything happened perfectly. I walk down to the local store. I buy them out of paper, out of pens, and out of envelopes. Then my mission begins. It was the only way that I knew to save her, I needed to give her something to live for. Something to look forward to.
"Dear, Samantha."
The people in charge of enforcing the laws watch as I begin my mission. They had seen many people waste their chances. They were just sitting there watching, some of them sit there. Wondering where my letter would honestly begin. So let me tell you my story of how I wrote enough letters to save my wife. To keep her going, to make sure that each day she would be able to find her reason to live. It all began with a single letter, one simple letter.
"Dear, Samantha,
This is your husband, I'm speaking to you to let you know that it's beautiful here. You may believe that life is not worth living anymore without me in it. But please, don't waste your life just trying to come to rescue me. Don't you remember when we first met? I was sitting at a cafe table, you were there listening to a book. I laughed at you because I believed that listening to a book was a waste of time. Reading was a better way to enjoy a book. You just told me that I was stupid, no one had the time to read books anymore.
Instead of just fighting one another, we decided the best way to solve our little dispute was simple. We challenged each other, I had to listen to five books, and you had to read five books. We both chose the same book for each other. We just laughed. The challenge never took place, instead, we spent the rest of the day talking about the books we loved"
This was the first letter, the letter I hoped would be able to keep her alive. To get her to end her loop. Unfortunately for me, my loop was just beginning. People say that saving someone is an easy task. For me, it's the most impossible task I've ever undertaken. I was convincing the woman that I love to abandon me. Giving her a reason to move on with her life. I would spend several hundred months, writing letters to my wife. I was going to die each and every day. Then I would wake up, and begin writing a whole new letter.
"Dear, Samantha
By the time this letter reaches you, hopefully, you have found another person whom you love. Someone who can make you smile. I know that you love me, but hopefully, you will learn to love another. Your smile is bright enough to light up an entire room. I loved it when you would sing, I miss hearing you sing. Please, live on.
Let me go, knowing that you would decide to live the rest of your life trying to rescue me breaks my heart. I never wanted you to sacrifice yourself for me. So please, remember to smile. One day you'll look back at today and smile. But today is not a day for smiling. Today is a day for tears, for remembrance. So please Samantha. Let me go, let me be remembered fondly. Pain can't hurt you if you find the strength to move on.
I love you, Samantha, please remember that"
Then I would die, and the cycle kept repeating until I'd written over ten thousand letters. The people who were in charge of making the rules took me out. They sat beside me and told me it was time. This would be my last time. I would have to make this final letter count. Tears stream down my cheeks. One final letter? Did I have the strength to make sure that she would finally remember herself? I nodded.
"Dear, Samantha
This is Eric, and this will be my final letter to you. Sitting here I struggle to find the words I need. I've already written you sever a thousand letters for one. One letter for each tear you cried. One letter for each heartbeat that I might miss. One letter for each day that I won't be able to see your smiling face.
I know what I must do, I know what letter I need to write. I need to let you know just how important you are to me. I need you to know that you made my days feel so much better. I wish that we had one more day, to sit down by a fireplace, and just hold each other. But we both know why they gave us these days. To make right our mistakes. To fix things we believe would fix everything.
Yet, here we are both trying to rescue each other. You trying to rescue me for you. You need me in your life, but that's not entirely true. I've always needed you in my life. Only now do I realize that. With that realization, I have one more line to write to you.
I love you."
Teardrops fall down onto the paper. I look over my shoulder at the people in charge. I get up and walk over to them. I hand them my letters, and then I walk back to the hospital bed. "You know what to do with these." I hand them the first letter written to her. "This is the first one you give her, make sure you cancel her loop. She needs to be able to move on." they just stare at me. No one had ever given them any demands. One of them just nods, before they cancel my time loop.
Over the next few hours, my wife just sits there as my body fades away. Tears fall freely done her cheeks as she realizes that her loop was broken. The first man in charge of delivering my letters arrives. He tells her that he was sorry for her loss, but her husband wanted her to have this letter. She frantically tears the letter away from the man. Her green eyes take in each word. Then she laughs aloud "What an asshole" then she sits by me. She slides her hand in mine giving it one final squeeze. "I love you too, thank you" she presses her lips against the backside of my hand. She turns to face the man. "Was this the only letter?" she asks fearing the answer. The man just shakes his head and walks out of the room.
Several years come and go, Samantha moved on from me. She never remarried, instead, she adopted a little girl. She made a vow to herself that since she had no more loops to make everything perfect. That she would teach children when to use their single loop. She tells them of a man who died for a year straight for the woman he loved. She tells them about a girl who used her repeat to save the man she loved. Instead, the man used his last day on the world to rescue the silly little girl. | All I could think is that this was inevitable. I knew what he was talking about because we've lived through a million and more times.
"It's okay.. We got this level on repeat for now." I hesitate for just a moment only to realize how many times we've tried to get this right.
Maybe if I press the right button the air lock won't release this time. I've pressed every button..
Well... Here we go. | 0.001626 | {
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You wrested the government from the tyrant. You ruled well, at first. But now there's talk of rebellion. At a presentation, you almost shout how you've given everything for this nation. But the words freeze in your throat. Those are the exact words the tyrant said before you overthrew him. | "By my strength came our glory! By my sacrifice, we have grown strong! By my wisdom, we have..."
The king stopped. The townsfolk, summoned for the king's address, shuffled about nervously as the king seemed to examine the parchment he had been reading, holding it up to the light and squinting. At last, the king spoke, his voice still enchanted so the whole crowd could hear:
"Oh you have got to be shitting me."
The king walked away, exasperated. Soon after, and to their collective delight, the bored townsfolk were treated to the most spectacular public execution the kingdom had seen in living memory.
And everyone (except the king's cheeky speechwriter) lived happily ever after. | I almost fucking said it...
Who had I become? My mind whirled a moment as I sat behind the desk of many great and many awful leaders before me. I pulled my hands from my temples and slammed them on the desk's cold surface. The thought nagged at me as it always did, although, this time I didnt fight it.
'You are what you hated.'
My vision blurred a bit from the salty substance escaping the prison I imposed upon them. My eyes gazed up upon the flag I helped create and proudly flew to symbolize a new beginning. ...But this was just another season of the same drama, wasn't it? Just as the saying goes, power had corrupted me... same as it does everyone.
The truth was what I spoke at first. Difficult as it was to do so, I told it every time it was demanded of me. Lies were too easy, and the first time I uttered one to my people I promised myself to not make a habit of it. I promised to only use them to buy time. Time to create a plan, time to work out the kinks, time to relax a little and enjoy some peace for myself. But soon, I was entangled in them. Snared by my words and unable to wriggle free. I found myself indulging my hunger while the people starved. I vacationed while the people were still homeless. I enjoyed 24/7 medical treatment whenever I may need it while the people had none.
My hands grew as cold as the desk and my face paled at the acknowledgements I was finally making. The selfishness had to stop. The double standard couldn't be tolerated any longer. If I fail to bring about the change I promised any longer the cycle will continue. And while I still held the enormous weight of this burden I could not shirk my duties any longer.
I wiped my eyes, took off my expensive blazer, and rolled up my sleeves and called my secretary to inform her that I need my cabinet to meet immediately. Surely they will be upset. But it's time I make good on my promise. In a three days, I will address the issues after we hammer some things out.
*briefing room 3 days later*
I refused the make-up personel. And the wardrobe people. I told the cooks that morning that making breakfast was unnecessary. This moment needed to be genuine, not Hollywood.
"You ready, Mr. President?" My secretary asked.
"I've been putting this off for far too long."
The camera man began the countdown, "5...4...." then proceeded with his fingers for the rest. At 1 I just stared in silence for a moment.
"Good Afternoon, my fellow Americans, I'm sure you know who I am." I paused a bit and looked down at the podium. "I am a failure...." I gave those words a moment to sink in.
"Yes, you heard me right. I am a FAILURE!! ...After you all followed me and my vision for a brighter future, I began with the greatest intentions a man could have. I was idealistic and bold. And for the past two years I have lost my spine and given up my ideals for the choices that were easy. I have come to realize that I was weak when it came to the temptations of power. I let you all down in favor of myself and those around me." (I could only imagine how well this was going in certain living rooms around the country.)
"But, I want you all to know that I have a plan. And if I am allowed to live long enough to see it all the way through, I hope that you all will see that it helps us all. First of all, I have written an executive order that prohibits, now and forever, all lobbying to government officials. Along with that, I have made insider trading punishable by death for government officials. I have also instituted term limits on all government leaders forevermore. No one shall be allowed more than two terms in any form of office nor will a member of the senate ot the house be allowed to make more than 50,000 a year. I have also made it a prerequisite for anyone who wishes to go into government to study and pass a test on the constitution and a basic psych test. And whosoever abandons or fails to uphold their oath to the people of the this nation will be thrown in jail forever."
"Furthermore, I insist that all americans must be given access to honest and non biased news free from political influence. No longer will a person be able to simply change a channel to be told HOW to think or WHO is in the wrong. All news sources must simply report the details. Not the opinions. Written news is still open for opinion sections and comedy channels must have a disclaimer played before each segment. Anyone who knowingly and callously lies to the American people about an event to spin a narrative benefitting their political agenda will find themselves in jail. There is no more room in the world for lies nor tribalism. We are all ONE nation, ONE species, and ONE family. So, with that in mind, I am also announcing the end of the political party system. Red or Blue doesn't matter. We are all here to work for the American people. Not the other way around. Every candidate will have to run for reelection using government approved funding. No fundraising will be allowed for a candidate. The last two weeks of September every year will be known Voter Awareness Weeks. Work will be prohibited as much as can be safely done. Where in the first week, all candidates will be broadcast on TV for their state and local area. Then, the second week will be for the presidential decisions. Voting and counting will be completed by the end of the year and we will keep our January 20th inauguration day."
"The richest people will be taxed by the same percentage as poor people. Meaning that if a woman working 45 hours a week grosses 750 dollars but only gets to take home 500 of it weekly, then a rich person who makes 750,000 will only bring home 500,000. These tax laws will stay in effect until we find a better way or someone who is better at math. Law enforcement personnel will have to retake conflict de-escalation courses to continue their service on our streets. And I hereby decree that any officer willing to commit to our newly designed two year training course will recieve the course for free and recieve twice the salary as police officers who refuse to take the course. We want our police to be safe and more training will only ensure that. Teachers will also be better compensated for their extraordinary service to the youth of our nations. And I propose a new incentive to train new teachers. Teachers will now start out of college earning 75,000 dollars a year and an additional 5,000 dollars a year if they should choose to spend a portion of the summer breaks learning new methods and keeping up to date with new material. So that America's children will grow in the best possible learning environment. I am also guaranteeing that all Americans are entitled to a college education and making it free to students and adding a 1% tax for 5 years to those who choose to accept it. Then, the tax will be gone.
And.... let's see, weed is now legal. All criminals in prison due to a marijuana related charge is hereby pardoned. And fossil fuels are going to be slowly worked out of our nations infrastructure. Anyone who chooses to leave a job in fossil fuels for a job in green energy will recieve a 1% tax break for 5 years and free trade school training for their desired green energy substitute with guaranteed job placement.
How will you pay for all of this? You may ask. I will tell you. We will stop investing hundreds of billions of dollars into building the very weapons we have to send our troops over seas to fight against. We will stop bailing out corporations that engage in shady business dealing and we with the Equivalency Tax on the wealthy and unwealthy. America will be what it was always meant to be. A government FOR THE PEOPLE, BY THE PEOPLE."
I nodded my head at the camera and smiled. Good news was, I wasnt going to have to worry about revolutionaries killing me anymore, now, it would be my senators and congressman. Did I even remember how to live on 50,000 dollars?! I didnt know anymore. But now things would have to work wouldn't they? The gunshot I heard behind me said that I was in trouble, but i was no longer afraid.
(Sorry for the length, but I had fun with this one. I bet that's how Thomas Jefferson and them felt writing the first constitution. All like, "OOH! Good idea, Benjamin Breezy Franklin imma totally write that down, yo!" Lol let me know if I forgot any good ones.) | 0.017857 | {
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Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | Dear diary,
Today I started to get my super power! Stupid Harvey Deno dumb face got super speed for his birthday. That guy is such a dick. But I got something better, I can hear when someone is thinking about me. I'm going to be such a ladies man! I can't wait to start school tomorrow, it's going to be wicked tits.
Dear diary, everyone noticed the zit.. | At 16, you get a mutation, and only one mutation, they say. At 16, your life really begins. I never realized just how true it was. It’s funny. As my friends all hit 16, all gained their powers, I thought that surely I’d get one that surpassed all of them. That I’d be the greatest mutant ever. I never realized just how true that sentiment was.
I walked down the street, keeping my head low. It was a lazy Saturday morning and I liked to take brisk walks, feel the heat of the sun on my skin, the chill of the wind causing goosebumps. I could hear running behind me before my vision suddenly went blank and my body nearly toppled over from their weight.
“Guess who?” a high pitch voice asked. I’ve told her that I don’t like it when she does this. I hate being snuck up on, and my girlfriend doesn’t like the idea of another woman wrapping her arms around me so much either.
It had been a couple years ago that my best friend Dave had turned 16. I asked him what his power was, but it wasn’t until a month later that I found out. On my girlfriend’s 16th of all days. She was blowing out the candles on her cake. Dave took me into one of the bedrooms.
“Do you think I should let everyone know?” he asked as I turned around from closing the door. “I’ve got the power, mine as well use it, right?”
Looking back at me was a woman that looked very Dave-like, standing in his clothes which were clearly oversized for his much tinnier body. A blush was on her face and I understood why she hadn’t wanted to reveal who she was.
“Sure, why not, stranger things have happened,” I said. It was true. There was a guy with the utters of a cow sticking out of his stomach. And he couldn’t turn that off. “You have a girl name to use though?”
“Sandie?” she chirped.
Back on the adventures of my walk, I felt her hands release my eyes as I answered, “Sandie?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling at me. After a couple weeks of going back and forth, Dave started to stay as Sandie more often, until Dave just disappeared one day.
“You coming to my party tonight?” she asked.
I looked down at the sidewalk and kicked a pebble back into someone’s front yard. Then I looked up at the sun, directly into its beating heart, its rays penetrating every bone beneath my skin.
“Yeah, Elizabeth really wants to go,” I replied.
And so later that night I met up with Elizabeth and we headed to Sandie’s party. Why she was having a party escaped me, but why Sandie did what she did often escaped me. Apparently I’m not the only one.
I watched as Elizabeth, graced with the ability to fly, levitateed towards some of her friends, her feet never touching the ground. I must admit, I was a bit jealous. Still am. Who wouldn’t want such a cool ability?
“Noah!” a rather large man said, running over towards me. I was surprised to see Elizabeth’s older brother at Sandie’s party.
“Mike!” I replied, shaking his hand. His whole midsection looked like some huge, overinflated beach-ball. “Hey, seeing as though you’re here, you think I can talk to you for a second?”
“No problem,” he replied, mindful of his swinging midsection. Poor bastard. I certainly don’t envy him.
“I want to ask your permission to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage,” I said to him bluntly. “I’m proposing to her tonight.”
“Seriously?” he said, looking almost taken aback. He fumbled in his wallet for something and then showed it to me. “That’s awesome! Now you’ll actually be my bro. But you see this girl in the picture?”
I looked and saw him and Elizabeth at some birthday party. Judging by how he was still in shock over his mutation, I figured it was his 16th. Which meant that the cute girl staring back was a 14 year old Elizabeth, from before I met her. They stood around a table with birthday cake on it, as well as glasses of half-drunken milk. She was pretty cute with a milk mustache.
“You better take good care of her, or you’ll answer to me,” Mike told me. His gaze was dead serious.
“Yes sir,” I replied. It never did cross my mind until I went to bed that the only glass of milk untouched in the photo was Elizabeth’s.
Later that night I sat beneath the stars. The moon was out in the sky, a full large moon and it lit up the blanket we laid on nicely. I caressed her cheek.
“It won’t work,” the dull, slow voice said. I ignored it and continued to lay on the blanket with her.
“Look, Elizabeth, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” I started. But the voice interrupted me again. I stared up at the moon and yelled profanities into the night wind.
“I’m just trying to help you,” the voice said. “I’ve been talking to you for two years. Don’t you trust me by now? I’ve been alive for eons, I’ve watched humanity since its origins. I know a thing or two about relationships. Which will work and which won’t.”
“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked, concerned about me. No one knew about my actual powers.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Sorry about that.”
And then I reached into my pocket, pulled out the ring, and got on my knees.
“Will you marry me?”
“No,” she replied. “Look, I’ve actually been meaning to break up with you since I turned 18. We’re going off to separate colleges and everything. Did you really think we were going to stay together?”
And so I walked away, not another word, and headed home, tossing the ring in a bush along the way. Not the wisest decision, but I couldn’t bare to hold on to it.
“Told you so,” the voice said.
I stopped in my tracks, my fist raised high in the sky.
“Well fuck you Moon! So you’re right. You’re always right. Happy now? Just let me wallow in my misery.”
“Thank you,” the moon replied back to me. “The Sun owes me a solar eclipse now.”
“How does that work?” I asked, my rage suddenly gone, replaced by curiosity. I’ve learned a lot since I started being able to talk to the sun and the moon. Never knew they could talk. Apparently I’m the only one with the mutation though.
“Science is so full of itself,” the Moon laughed. “Only reason we do eclipses is because we lose bets to each other. And stop moping. You want to know what else is going on in the world right now? I can see it all. Trust me, being dumped isn’t the worst of it.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said sarcastically. “You know I thought I was crazy at first when you guys started talking to me. But you’ve given me so much wisdom and knowledge. Things that others can’t seem to understand. With you two, I’ll be able to usher in a new age of humanity, a golden age full of peace and happiness.”
“Well, we’re just glad to have someone to talk to,” the Moon said.
Suddenly I felt my body twerk as a car hit me and I flew into their windshield, rolling over onto the ground. The car drove off speedily as I got up. Not even a scratch. The ground I fell on though had some rather large cracks. You’d think I’d at least bruise or have a little blood, but I can’t remember the last time I did.
“Why didn’t you tell me a car was coming?!” I shouted to the Moon as he laughed.
“That was awesome!”
And so I walked home, yet again failing to realize, as I so often did, what was really going on. Of course that night, when my little sister who had just turned 16 today, used her powers on me, a whole new wave of understanding would come over me. I’d finally understand all the things I’d been missing for the last few years. But at the moment I continued walking, laughing and conversing with the Moon, wondering what the Sun might have to say about all this. | 0.014925 | {
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You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago. Today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor." | "I need a favour."
Four little words, but there's a lifetime of suffering that comes with them.
He stood there, in the low light of the bar. Almost a silhouette behind the haze of smoke. Wide-brimmed hat sitting atop his head, tattered scarf hiding all but his eyes. Still as a statue, only thing that gave him away as being something living was the slight sway from side-to-side.
I returned my eyes to my tumbler. Winced. Visual reminder of the fact I was reaching the bottom of it. Thing about whiskey is, there's never enough in the bottle. I tapped the phantom fingers of my left hand against the glass, cruel joke was I could have sworn there was still some sensation there.
"And I need my digits to grow back." I said, at last. Chose my words carefully, kept my expression neutral. "We going to keep playing the 'Name-things-that-are -unlikely-to-happen' game, or are you going to fuck off and let me drink in peace?"
Lucifer took a step toward me, hands buried deep in the pockets of his long-coat. I tensed. Was reminded of a time when those hands would blacken eyes, knock my jaw out of place.
"Please, Jim." He said, voice barely louder than a whisper. I caught him glance around the room after he spoke, as he pulled out a seat and dropped down onto it. "I'm in deep here. Deeper than's healthy."
"Lucifer, in deep?" I asked, meeting his eye. "King of Hell, Protector of the Damned, and you're shitting your pants. Would be sort of funny, if I didn't know just how tenuous your hold over this little shit-hole is."
A flicker of annoyance in his expression - what little of it I could see, that was - made me smile. Lips peeled back, corners of my mouth tugged up into a sick grin.
"They want me off the Throne, out the way." He said. "I don't know what they're planning, why they're moving now, but I know it's coming. They want me out."
"Can't imagine why." I shrugged, raised my cup to my lips, drained what little was left in the thing. Set it down maybe a little too roughly. "I mean it's obvious, isn't it? You're all flowers and rainbows, Devil with a heart of gold. A veritable fount of kindness."
"Look, Jim, I'm not claiming to be a good guy -"
"It'd tickle me a little bit if you were." I cut him off, pulled the sleeve back and showed him the two fingers of my left hand. Thumb and forefinger. The others just stumps, ended just after the first joint. "But I don't need to tell you why that is, do I?"
"Just listen for a fucking moment, will you?!" A moment's outburst. Then he sighed, sagged forward. "Listen, please. Just...just listen."
I stared at him for a long second, eyebrow arched. Remembered that tone well. He used to use it when I couldn't get my head around something quick enough.
"Alright." I said. "Speak. Enlighten me."
"You think if they cast me down they're going to stop there? You think it ends with me? Not a chance. First thing they do when I'm gone, when I'm buried in some unmarked grave somewhere, is go after my bloodline. Make sure there's no-one to contest their rule, to be a rallying point for my supporters."
I saw what he was saying. Knew it would be the case. Coups aren't pretty, usually leave a lot of people dead whose only crime was being born into the family.
"Thanks for the warning, Dad." I said, nodded toward the door. "Exit's that way if you'd like to use it. If not, there's a fire exit around somewhere."
"The favour - " He started. And as he spoke another man made his way through the door, started moving over to us.
I held up a hand. "Forget the favour, Dad, It's not happening. I appreciate your consideration, though. Warm's my heart to see my own Father hasn't totally forgotten about me."
I decided it'd be better if I left. Rose from my seat, wobbled a bit on my feet. The whiskey had gotten to me more than I'd realised. I gave him one last look in the eye before making my way towards the bar.
The man I'd seen enter the place just moments before stopped me. Tall, lanky, but he stepped right in front of me nonetheless. One hand tucked inside the folds of his smart blazer.
Leaned in close - close enough that I could smell the garlic on his breath - and said; "I'd sit back down, if I were you."
I knew the voice. Simri. My Father's closest adviser, oldest friend. He also had the honour of being the biggest bastard I'd ever met, excluding myself.
"And what if I don't, Sim?" I said, soft as touching feather. "Swear to Christ, you don't move out of my fucking way I'm going to take that little knife in your hand and shove it so far up your asshole, you'll be tasting steel for months."
"Nice to see that proper education, the work of Hell's finest minds, put to good use, James." Simri replied, voice smooth as honey and dripping with poison.
The sight of the man was enough to make you shiver, to have a conversation with him was close to tying a noose around your neck.
"Sorry." I smiled. No warmth in the thing. "Thought of turning out like you, like Dad, drove me out of my mind."
"Oh, I've heard the stories." Sim said. "Prince of Ravens, isn't that what they call you? On account of the multitude of corpses you leave behind you. Tell me, making hard choices to keep millions of people alive or killing others over a slice of land, which is worse? Seems the evil your Father does results in continued peace, stability. The death you bring about is just because you're angry. *'Daddy didn't hug me enough'.* Get-fucking-over it."
I looked him up and down. Sized him up. I could take him, no question, but the consequences of that would land me in more hot water than was worth it. Simri was a powerful man, had a lot of swords on his payroll. I put the hurt on him, no telling how many enemies I'd make.
"Thanks for the talk." I said, forcing myself to stay at least somewhat civil. "You seem to know a lot about the state of my mind. That's funny to me. Day I took off, I don't remember you being too bothered. In fact, I believe your exact words were; *"We're going to have to pick a new heir, sire. Might I put myself forward as candidate?"*
Sim's face grew stern. Evil smile dropped, replaced with a cold mask. "This favour. If you don't help, they'll come for you."
"Dad just said that, Sim. What are you, a fucking parrot?"
"Believe it or not, your Father is acting out of concern for your well-being."
A memory bubbles to the surface. I'm twelve, maybe thirteen. Failed him again, can't even remember what it was I did - or didn't do.
*Hand held to the table in the dining room, some ox-built up guard silent as a crypt behind his mask. Dad shouting, red in the face, blade in hand. Raises it above his head, I squeeze my eyes shut. He brings it down, and I know because I hear it slicing through the air, hear the slight noise made in exertion.*
*Cold steel against my skin. Blade sinks into the table. For a moment, nothing. No sound, no pain. Then it floods me. Nothing but pain. Lancing up my arm, through my body. I screamed.*
I pushed passed Sim. Started for the door. Paused, turned.
"Want to know something funny?" I called over to him. He met my eye. My Dad still sat at the table, head in his hands. "I have to help him. Not because I want to, but because he owns my soul."
Sim's brow went up. "What did you ask for in return?"
"I asked for him to love me. Y'know, like a Father should love a son." I said. Spun on my heels and started to walk away. Over my shoulder I tossed; "He never kept up his end. Bad trade, you ask me." | "Um. Yes. Hello? Is this Janet? No, no you don't know me. I'm calling for the Devil. Yes, uh, your Devil. Yeah, he's fine but he wanted me to talk to you. He wanted me to tell you it's over, and he wants you to know that it isn't you, it's him. No, no this isn't a joke. No. No, I can't put him on the phone. We'll maybe you should have thought of that before you planned a vacation to Denver. Yes. No. Okay, sorry. Goodbye."
"How'd she take it."
"Not bad... hey, do you mind if I hang on to God's number?"
"Go ahead. She hardly ever answers anyway." | 0.008264 | {
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There's an urban legend that's been circulating for years aboit a taxi cab that doesn't take you where you want to go, but where you need to go.One night you step into this cab. | "Okay," I said. I scratched my head and tried to make eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror. He stared straight ahead but I spied a slight smirk creeping up his lip. "This is a joke, right?"
He shook his head and peered up at me, his eyelids drooping. Beneath them I saw eyes intelligent, focused - and old. "Not quite," he said. "You grow up around here?"
He took the exit for the Brooklyn Bridge and sped up, whistling past the other cars with ease. I looked out the back window and could have sworn I saw Carrie's apartment. With each click of the meter it grew smaller and smaller, further and further away. "Yeah," I mumbled, shifting my weight in the backseat.
"Then you should know the stories. I-"
"Can you just take me to the address I gave you?" I asked, struggling to keep any annoyance out of my voice.
"I mean I heard them growing up and that was back when the dinosaurs were hanging around."
"Listen," I snapped, "you don't want to drive me to fortieth, why did you pick me up? I don't have time for games, I gotta-"
"You gotta remember one of them. Taxi cab? Doesn't take you where you want to go, but where you..." he waited expectantly, the same tired eyes staring at me through the rearview mirror. "Oh come on."
"I grew up here," I said, my tone crisp with agitation. A thousand normal cab rides, I thought, eyeing the poorly drawn cab logo on the driver's business cards sitting in his cup holder. A thousand without incident - and now I get this guy. "Course I heard it. Doesn't mean I'm dumb enough to believe it." We merged onto the bridge but the driver maintained his speed. My frame tightened as he weaved between the honking cars, sliding the sedan into the smallest of gaps. "Minute we get off the bridge," I continued, my heart lurching up and down in my chest, "I'm getting out."
The driver nodded. "Suit yourself," he said, darting between a semi and a limousine with ease. "Just tell Carrie it's my fault."
My mouth fell open. "Did you just say Carrie?"
"Yup," he replied.
I rolled the words around my mouth like a loose pinch of tobacco, pushing them between my gums and teeth back around to my molars. "How... how did you know that was her name?"
The driver shrugged. "I like to read up on my passengers. Three years and counting? Hoo boy, you're in the high speed lane with that one."
I scratched my brow and replayed our last conversation - or shouting match, whichever you want to call it. "How-"
"I know you want to know the answers, Dylan," the driver interrupted. "But you don't need them right now."
The cab took the first exit after the bridge and pulled off to the side. The driver popped on the hazards and turned around in his seat, placing a hand on the opposite headrest. He was fifty at most, but his eyes were older. Beneath the sagging eyelids the pupils seemed to be made up of cobwebs. The smirk sat on his lips, wider than it was before. "Door's right there," he said pointing to it lazily.
I gripped the handle and paused. "Where are you taking me?"
He met my eyes. "Where you need to go, son."
I sat silently for a moment, then nodded. It was a slight dip of the head but he nodded back and put the car back into drive. "What else do you know about me?"
The driver chuckled and steered the car toward the Meatpacking District, passing through traffic like a knife through butter. "Enough, I 'spose. Two brothers - one now but we both know he's not sticking around for long."
"You don't know that-"
"Nah, but you do, don't you son? Addiction's a hell of a drug. Let's see, you had one parent when it mattered, two when it didn't. You had a rough period of growing pains to put it mildly."
The tension in my frame began to dissipate and I leaned back in my seat. "You could say that."
"Tried a lot of different things, growing up - didn't ya? Bunch of fingers in a bunch of pies. Baseball for a bit, arts and crafts, debate team-"
"Mock trial," I corrected.
"Yeah, but that was after Mom said she couldn't afford the debate team field trips, wasn't it?" He peered at me through the rearview mirror. "Not that easy to trip up a cabbie, son."
I rubbed at my eyes as we turned down an alley way, puttering along past the homeless and the other refuse thrown out into the street. "Guess not."
"Explains the law school choice. 'I'll be good at that,' you thought. 'That'll give me what I need,' you convinced yourself. Too bad the loans got you by the balls, the girlfriend too while we're at it. Goodbye family court, hello big business - how much money you save Exxon in that workers comp suit by the way?"
My skin bristled and the tension returned. "That's a classified-"
"So's the number of times you jerked off to Mary Margaret back in high school," he grumbled, his smirk growing into a smile. "But I know that too."
I snorted and felt a familiar heat rise up in my chest. "Fuck this," I snarled. "You're right, growing up sucked. Don't know how you know all this and I don't care. I'm not who I was. I'm doing better, and I'm gonna change things - I know I can. I've got a job that's gonna lead to a good one. My relationship's had some rough patches but it's getting better. I'm- I'm talking to my mom again-"
"You're talking to her," he interrupted, bringing the car to a stop in front of a handleless door. I looked up to see a wide brick building, three stories tall and a block wide at least. The alley we stopped in was clean, almost immaculate aside from a collection of cigarette butts hanging right outside the door. The driver cleared his throat and turned off the car. "Doesn't mean she's listening."
My face flushed with anger. "You know what, you can-"
"Big city, easy to get turned around," he said softly, oblivious to my outburst. "You know what the first thing a person does in NYC when they get lost?"
He eyed me through the rearview. I shook my head.
"They hail a cab." The driver unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back. He folded his arms across his chest and cracked his back, each pop sounding like it had been waiting decades. "You can't help your brother. You can't help your mom. You can't help Carrie. And knowing that's got you turned around, Dylan. It's got you lost."
I bit my lip. "Then where do I need to go?"
"Well nowhere now." He stepped out of the cab and crossed its hood to open my door. I got a better view of the handleless door and saw a taxi logo above it - the same poorly drawn cartoon that was painted on the driver's business card. "When they're lost," he continued, pushing the door open with ease, "it's a quick fix sometime. Someone needs reconciliation, bring 'em to a scorned lover. Someone needs a change of scenery, drop 'em off at the airport. Ya know. Easy stuff."
I followed him into the building. It was a parking garage, lined wall to wall with the same style cab we just rode in. He paused in front of one - its front tires recently replaced, the interior upholstery sagging. I turned to him and he pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket. "It's a bit harder when they need a purpose."
He offered me the keys.
I took them. | "Yo, wrong way!"
No response.
"You hear me?"
Still nothing.
I was going to be late for my job. Can't wait for Mr. Henessy to yell at me again.
"Where are you taking me?"
Eventually he drove me home.
"Go to your TV"
I got to my living room, only to find my wife crying.
"What is it honey?"
As she looked at me in shock, only then did I notice the TV.
"Why is my office smok..."
Then the second plane hit... | 0.004032 | {
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You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | When my parents tested me for my powers, they were hoping for super intelligence, my dad’s power. Maybe even super strength, my mom’s. But they never expected my power.
Like all budding youth, I was tested for my powers when I was five, when the powers start becoming more powerful. I remember being lead into a small, white room, my parents beaming with pride. I sat in a chair and a doctor hooked me up to a weird machine. She explained in his soothing voice what each part did, but I don’t remember that now. After I was hooked up, she left the room. After a few seconds, the doctor came back in. She had a confused look on her face. After checking the wires again, she left. I sat for what seemed like hours, not daring to move. I was about to get up when the doctor came in. She unhooked the machine and lead me back to my parents. We all went into another room, and the doctor gave me a toy to play with. It was a small firetruck, battered from the previous uses. But I was too scared to play. My parents looked concerned, and the doctor only looked confused. I just barely remember the conversation. The doctor explained to my parents that I had no power. They laughed it off at first, like it was all a joke. But as realization hit, they got angry. I remember the screaming the clearest. After the fits of anger, they asked if there was a way to give me powers, like an implant. But everyone knows that’s impossible. We left shortly after that. My parents never treated me the same after that. 18 years old, and my parents are still embarrassed to talk about me. Like I’m a stain on the family. They had two more children soon after to make up for me; My sister, who has telekinesis and my brother, who can fly. My parents had no trouble talking about them.
I’m in my room, staring at my white ceiling. My clock reads 12:01 am. Perfect time for a walk. I get out of bed, put on a jacket, and walk out of my room. The hallway is clear, not a sound from my sibling’s rooms. I walk down the stairs, avoiding the creaking steps. Years of sneaking out taught me this skill. I reach the front door without a sound. I open the door and slip into the night.
I walk down the street of my suburb. It’s dead quiet, only the buzz from the curfew detectors break the silence. Curfew is at midnight, but I’ve never been caught. The detectors scan to find the “super gene”. All people with powers have this gene. This way, raccoons, birds, and other animals don’t trigger the alarm. Lucky for me, I don’t have this gene.
I walk out of the suburb into a large forest. Signs are posted around the edge of the forest. They warn not to enter the forest, that this is private property. I walk past the signs, flipping off a detector as I pass it. A few more minutes of walking, I reach my oasis. I built a small hut in the forest, away from all who judge me. It was months of work with no superpowers. More months to wire it with electricity and plumbing. But it was all worth it. I walk in and flip on the lights. My dog, Idem, jumps up from his bed. He runs up to me, knocking me over. I laugh and smile, and we roll on the ground together. Eventually, I get his leash, and we go for a quiet walk. When we get back, I sit on the couch. Idem jumps up, he wags his tail and licks my face. I smile, and fall asleep with him cuddling on me.
My phone alarm goes off five hours later. Reluctantly, I get up. Scratching him behind the ears, I give him a hug before I leave, promising to come back and take him out tomorrow night. I make the lonely trek home. I reach my room just as the house wakes up. I hear Sabrina get into the shower and Lance fly down stairs. My parents come down next, each rushing to get out the door. I lay in bed, listening to the sounds. The sounds die down, and I step out of my room. I get into the shower, washing the smell of forest off of me. Then I go down stairs and make myself breakfast. I eat alone at the table. I clean up my dishes and go to the basement.
I have a small desk set up there. On it, my secondhand laptop rests. I flip on the lightswitch and sit down. I log into my computer and pull up the internet. I click the shortcut to VirtuSchool, an ‘online classroom’. I don’t go to real school, my parents are afraid that I’ll be picked on. What they really mean, is that they don’t want people to know about me. I open up the first lesson of the day, Math. As soon as the video starts, I leave.
I’m tempted to visit Idem again, but I’m not stupid. It’ll be easier to spot me in the daytime. So instead I walk to my local library. I do like learning, but that virtual garbage it too slow for me. Walking to a secluded corner of the library, I open my first book, Advanced Calculus 2. I pour over the book for hours. My alarm sounds, and I head back home in time to turn off the virtual bullshit. I make myself a quick dinner, then head up to my room before the rest of my family gets home. I hear them enter a few minutes later. They’re laughing about something. I hear them eat dinner and talk about their days. Lance beat his speed record, and Sabrina lifted 100 pounds with her mind. Mom and Dad went on and on about how proud they are. Later, I heard them come upstairs. They went to bed soon after that. And so the waiting game began. I stared at the ceiling for hours, waiting for curfew to start.The clock struck midnight, and I lept out of bed.
I started my ritual. I got dressed, creaked downstairs, snuck outside, flipped off the detector, and entered the forest. It wasn’t until I saw the flames that I started to run. My oasis, my only sanctuary, was burning in a fiery inferno. I ran to the door and tried to open it, but the metal handle was too hot to touch. I threw myself at the door, and again, and again. Finally, it gave. I crashed into my house, flames licking my face. I tried to see through the smoke, but I only blinded myself. I called out to Idem, screaming his name. There was no response. I crawled towards his bed, feeling my way across the scorching floor. My hand felt his fur, and I grabbed at it, pulling him towards me. I picked him up and ran out of the house.
I fell to my knees, tears in my eyes. I clutched Idem close to me, feeling for a heartbeat, a breath, anything. Nothing. I threw back my head, screaming to the sky, tears streaming down my face. I stayed with Idem until the ashes of my house flickered and died.
A sunrise streamed across the forest, illuminating me in it’s light. In my pocket, my alarm goes off. I pull it out and throw it as hard as I can at my house. It collides with a sign I didn’t see before. Standing up, I move to read it.
“Dear Squatter,
It has come to our attention that you are trespassing on private property. The rules against this are very strict, and this building has been scheduled for demolition effective immediately. If you have any questions or concerns, please visit your local PytotecStation. Thank you for your understanding.”
I ripped up the sign and threw it as well. I spend the next few hours burying Idem. When that is done, I make a gravemarker for him, a simple plank from the burnt house.
I wait until night to go into town. The streets are empty, and so is the weapon shop I’m standing in front of. I open the door, bypassing the super gene security system. I grab everything I can get my hands on. Once I’m geared up, I make my way towards the PyrotecStation. It’s time to express my concerns.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey everyone, About4001llamas here. I hope you liked my story, I loved writing it! If you want more, check out /r/About4001llamas Happy reading! | They didn't respect me. Never did. They laughed as I pointed, laughing that my power was useless, that no one would ever respect me.
But, over the years, I've realized something. I've realized that without this thing, Laser Beam Man won't have the strength to fight crime. Super Strength Woman won't even be able to lift a fly. And... and even the famed Batman Copycat won't be keeping his city safe. No. That all ends today.
I pointed to the roll of toilet paper, and it disappeared.
They won't be laughing at Points at Toilet Paper and Makes It Disappear Man any more.
Not until I've gotten my load off. | 0.004237 | {
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When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell. | “Does everyone get to choose?”
The watchman’s heart was breaking looking at the tiny child, covered in scars. They shouldn’t *be* scarred like that, not here, whatever acts caused them must have been truly despicable.
“Everyone gets to choose, and none for an age have chosen that door.”
The child stops their shuffling towards the darker doorway.
“Can you change your mind? Go from one to another?”
“No, are you sure you want to do this child?”
“Can’t be worse than before, they would never follow me here.”
As the child strode with purpose through the darkened gate, the Watchman smiled a bittersweet smile ‘no one was supposed to pass like that.’ | Perhaps at some point, giving people the choice of heaven or hell was the correct one. After all, if God were a truly omnipotent being, he would see that mortal actions are only informed by an infinite series of processes and that most people make rational decisions to lead them to the places they go. Ergo, in most situations. morality can be construed to be whatever the situation defines it as, and thus under most conventional ideas; all people are equally moral.
Perhaps he's that stupid and he truly believes that. Imagine the repugnance of not having some sort of absolutist system of morality in place. Imagine it, really.
Maybe it would've even worked if people couldn't be dragged, kicking and screaming, right out of heaven for failing to pay off their oaths. For failing to break their mortal ties in the grand bureaucracy.
Ilene didn't give a damn either way, staring down at the mines of Babel. Her horse didn't care either, hooves barely landing on the tawny sand, a ripple of muscle skimming down the flank of the undead beast, but it would've been great if people weren't contractually obligated to make a mess of her previous Hell.
"Looks like another prisoner revolt," The sheriff said, cocking his hat. "You sure you're up for it, Deputy?"
"Come on, Sheriff," Ilene hissed. "We've got heads to smash and paper work to file before the mayor gets back, let's get this over with."
The brimstone sands were thrown up into the air with each smash of the great horse's hooves, and Ilene casually drew her six-gun and counted out the rounds.
The sheriff barked out another laugh and sped onward into the crest of the great hill, the shattered remnants of walls blown apart by dynamite reeking of elder energies, and the distant remnants of angelic laws distorted by the hands of man.
Ilene's gun lay heavily in the palm of her hand, and she spun it once before drawing it entirely, pointing it ahead.
"GET ALONG BACK TO YOUR DAMN BARRACKS!" She shouted as the two of them verged the cliff side, then fired the gun wildly into the air. "DON'T MAKE US SEND THE TAKERS AFTER YOU IN HEAVEN!"
Over the cacophony of growing hellfire and distorted space time the gunshots had little effect, but at least she tried.
"Canary?" She asked, turning to the sheriff.
"Got it," He grinned, drawing his long rifle. The prisoners were a mash of red skin, fresh pale skinned, and most notably, the horned ones. With the gleaming gold of the rifle in his hands, Ilene could see the reflection of the false sun without the livery that made it seem to glow; just silver sigils sketched across a dead sky bereft of stars.
"Looks like they're resisting arrest," Ilene commented.
Canary's gun went off with a sound like thunder, and a man's head exploded down range. With the vessel cracked, the soul flooded out in a great pool of sodden silver, then was swept away back towards the great beyond.
Where, more than likely, he would once again find himself dragged, kicking and screaming, into his place of eternal servitude, because damn him for signing a contract in life that required servitude in death.
But hey, how else were you supposed to get a job in this economy?
The sound of the gun going off caused even Ilene's undead stallion to buck, and she threw a hand up to press her hat back down upon her horns.
But the cacophony of revolt failed to pass on.
"Ilene," Canary said, roughly.
"Yes? She shouted as they neared the melee.
"Dynamite," Canary shouted, pointing at the gleaming arc of hellstone; marked plainly and trailing smoke.
Then Ilene was caught in a massive explosion.
Fuck.
"Get back here soon," Canary intoned, somewhat bored.
-------
The gleaming gates of heaven were a long way off for a creature such as her, even as what passed as her soul appeared wildly in front of the binary choice. Ilene pressed her fingers against one another, then slowly, with a concerted effort that spoke of nothing more than experience, cracked her fingers and bones back into place. After a moment, her hat drifted down after her, and she pressed it back firmly on her head and walked forward.
The gold light suffused everything that moved, every moment of every existence, but the light of god turned away her skin and made her burn with fire.
Not a pleasant experience, but once she shed the layer of sin encrusting her, perhaps...
But where was the chorus?
"What are you doing back here, demon?" Saint Peter asked, dimly, looking at her from the top of his Book of Names. "I thought I told you this was a mistake. Are you really ready to be dragged back to hell again?"
Ilene peered over his shoulder without giving him a moment's thought, which made Peter's hand lash out to push her back in place.
"You really don't want to go there this time," Peter warned.
Was that... fire across the gates to heaven?
"The hell is that?" Ilene asked, jerking her hands at the doorway. "Besides, check my book."
Peter looked back at her, opened his mouth, then shut it grimly, flicking his way through the book. "It says here that... you're clear on obligations and debts. Congratulation, I suppose you've finally died enough in the line of duty." Peter's voice was confused. "How the hell did you manage that?"
"I was never human to begin with," Ilene pointed out, sourly. "And I've been hauling ass down there to make up for all the corporate bullshit for ages.
"Self sacrifice is a distinctly human and angelic trait," Peter pointed out. "And you've got a history of that, Law-bringer."
Ilene gently reached up and touched her long spirally horns. "What on earth is going on in front of the gates of heaven?" She asked again.
"Not earth," Peter intoned, seriously. "But more angelic matters you don't need to concern yourself with. Can you make your choice and move on?"
Ilene thought distantly of the brief moments she'd snatched, centuries ago, hidden in the depths of heaven, before it had been locked to her due to deals with devils, demons, of the red crusades and the eternal lock and press of bodies in the place where space lost all meaning apart from a repository for souls.
If she went there she could experience that... maybe once more, maybe it would finally kill her, obliterate her stained fingers from the Red Revolution, and leave her with nothing left.
Wouldn't that be nice?
But she had a gun to return to. No need to remind her why she was miserable, even if the moments would stay with her forever.
She shrugged. "Good luck with whatever it is you're doing over there," She took her hat off, bowed, then placed it back on her head and walked past him, idly whistling a heavenly hymn.
"You choose Hell?" Peter asked, incredulously. "You're not even going to make an attempt to get past me?"
"Don't you get tired of watching an eternal parade of sinners try to hide out in your heaven?" Ilene asked, sarcastically. "Really, just let a demon go her own way without asking questions."
"Is it over a guy?" Peter continued asking, as the fires enshrouding the gates of heaven burned higher and all the more brilliantly, burning Ilene's eyes. "A girl maybe? Something else?"
"Look, the garden of Eden gave the lot of us free will, and I got a pretty comfortable arrangement down in hell to go back to, I don't want to trade all of my progress there for fifteen minutes in the sun."
Peter's jaw snapped together, then opened, then snapped together.
"It is the sun we're talking about." Peter tempted, confused.
Ilene walked past him. "Look, I'm sorry about your big burning gates, I got some more people to oppress to make sure they earn their permanent place in heaven."
The gates to heaven burned with brilliant light as Ilene found the cliff down to hell, and she gave the burning brilliance another wave, then jumped.
She had a sheriff to get back to.
-----
For more like this, click here. https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ | 0.001724 | {
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It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there. | First the texts. Then the MMS images. Then every insta, fb post, live stream, Reddit post, tweet. Every inbox at 0% capacity as it was all FWD FWD FWD FWD : MOON all the time.
After a few days we realized the vast majority of Internet traffic was solely automated spambots. Everybody else was outside looking at the moon, or sleeping all day wherever they last witnessed the moon..
Tritanopia is a form of color blindness that reduces the blue/yellow/green portion of the spectrum.
Us lucky one in ten thousand were unphased by the moon... Get it? Moon puns.
For reference,
1:10,000 expands to
100,000:1,000,000,000
And there's seven some billion people total, so you'd think seven hundred thousand people would be able to coordinate.
But then you have to look at population densities, distributive models of where tritanopia can be found, how difficult it is to travel when almost everyone is standing in the middle of the road to quietly worship the moon.
Imagine being at a festival with a target audience of docile septuagenarians. You don't like the grateful dead, don't get why
everyone is fixated, just want the whole thing to end. You try making a call on your phone but it just plays Phish songs That's how it felt.
It's like not being a hockey fan in Canada.
So. 700,000 functioning humans remaining. All ages. All ability levels. The vast majority lacking applicable skills or the psychological tenacity required to face this world. I was only 12 when it happened, just on the cusp of being forged by the new world yet with fond memories of the old ways.
Most animals that could look up and had some visual acuity also became enraptured. I wanted to help the animals but I didn't know how.
My first two days I tried to go about my routine as normal. Except there was no more no normal routine. No supply lines, no infrastructure, no social contract. Ran into a lot of lunatic strangers that got a start on the hoarding and mad max fashion early. My family had a close personal bond with either the moon or stolen wholesale liquor, depending on sight abilities.
A tritanopia support myphp forum briefly assembled IRL and tried to stage a coup of world power, but taking over the white house and the UN when there really isn't anyone to enforce your will doesn't matter much. Nobody to answer the phone for the nuclear launch codes, nobody to pop in the 8.5" floppy disks to get the nukes into the sky. Infighting led to the fast dissolution of that group, especially when the yahoo group insurrectionists gained traction.
The moonies just stopped participating. Beat them up, bash them to death in the streets, run them over. No resistance. Just single most minded dedication to the moon. A sadist's mcplayland.
They didn't eat or drink but they didn't die of exposure or dehydration. After a while their skin became ashy during the day. They went from monosyllabic grunts to utter silence.
A bit later, some of them grew wings or horns or scales . Some grew hair and became funky werewolf-gargoyle things.
The transformed congregation moved in packs but continued to stare at the moon. They'd only respond if provoked but you'd be dead before you realized you had provoked them.
Then came the Sound Eternal. Somewhere between Gregorian chanting, Cthulhu summoning , and Tibetan throat singing. Constant, from sun down to sun up. From the beasts, from the people.
It was declared cured five or six times. Half of those just lies from crumbling provisional government. The other half lacked real testing or distribution standards. Giving injections to hoards of swaying gnarly mutants that may lead to heads exploding one way or another wasn't going to work out
And so modified aerial viruses delivered via crop dusters, foggers, modified tear gas canisters, anything that could contain the smoke.
They all cocooned out for a bit after the dusting misused some lies masquerading as legitimate research.
I saw the aftermath and heard the confessions but I can't tell you in great detail how that all went down. Too busy rhen with the fight for survival, a sixteen year old keeping a nuclear reactor running on a submarine turned makeshift unethical medical experimentation laboratory.
The less said, the better. Dark time for submarines.
Most Moonies came out of chrysalis fit as a fiddle, back to full health, lost all the medieval art features.
Lived a mockery of their old routines, spring in their step. Go into the abandoned office to push pieces of paper around and tap keys on unpowered terminals. Then every night, back to the moon gazing.
You were probably born during this time period. Probably not the most rational decision that could've been made, but after surviving weregargoyles the social fabric didn't have much space for rationality.
They'd peruse ransacked grocery stores, exchange idle moon-themed pleasantries with each other. Morning jog through fields of corpses, oblivious. Flip.through the same old magazine until it disintergrated. Barbers and janitors would go to rubble that used to be their workplace and sweep with purposelessness . Tradesmen could sort of resume their jobs, more or less, but only served their own kind. After a few months, they used noise singing to gather a crowd and coordinate at a task, building ungodly architecture overnight or sacrificing a hundred mile long line of people to send an electrical signal from one necropolis to the next.
They'd all look at us and they would know. They would say "better not look at the moon" in the same deadpan attempt of reverse psychology. I'd reply "What a beautiful night out" while bug eyed stating at their moon. And sing about the moon hitting my eye like a big pizza pie. They just didn't understand thar moon magic wouldn't work on my snarky 19 year old deficient peepers. I had fallen into a bad crowd of pharmaceutic redistributors.
I'lll admit I developed a bit of a moon dust habit.The dust made their late 20th century satire of mid 20th century values schtick a little more tolerable. What else is there to do during the longest flash mob installation art piece? Swap rumors and lies about how places beyond the horizon were getting by?
Someone - nobody knows which side - invented glasses that compensated for the color blindness, let the impure finally join the teeming masses. That caught on big once we realized us last few unchanged had successfully flushed all chance of rebuilding or becoming something other than marauder junkies. I was around 22 at the time and in middle of trying to preserve priceless irreplaceable cultural artifacts from the Smithsonian, mostly by defending an adjacent outpost and running a little mercantile ammo shop on the side. Missed out on the suicide sunglasses phase. Gave away the only pair I stumbled across in the ruins to a real go-getter errand runner.
Then, next phase began and their molting started. Human skin left lying around everywhere, giant insectoid snakemen picking fights, the usual. Moondust purity went way down, market nearly tanked. By then I had a cybernetic arm and a laser eye. I spent most of my time in pipes, guarding various keys and providing clues to riddles.
I betrayed everyone that trusted me at every turn and regret nothing. I had once decided to live like a forgettable side quest NPC in a sub-par video game series. But when the laser eye was installed, I could see the full beauty of the moon in all spectrums, even those invisible to the limited human eye.
Didn't take long to round up the remaining twenty thousand some for free laser eye replacement. There's some logistics, sure, but you concentrate everyone into camps, chop off some limbs, erase the notion of free will or anything but service to the moon.
Turns out the moon does not mind if you scoop out significant portions of the prefrontal lobe before conversion. The question is will you be complacent enough to realize your higher calling or are you going to be another meat log for the stumpy field?
Either way, the implants will a little itch bit at first. Hopefully this bit of storytelling has enlightened you. Now, please, let us experience the moon together now. | 0.013699 | {
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You are an NPC in a failed online game. Tell about the final days before server shut down.
Edit 1: Holy shit! Thanks for all of the great replies!
Edit 2: ¡Jesus Cristo! Front page! Thanks all! | "I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew po-" | *Why us? was it our poor area maps? our inability to interact past a few transactions? our plot? graphics? theme?* She had never been more frustrated.
"how could they do this?" cried one person from the crowd.
"What will happen to us?" another.
Screams erupted and the king did nothing to stop or calm the crowd. The knights of White Horse surrounded him and escorted him to his carriage while the crowd turned into a mob. torches appeared as her fellow villagers withdrew them from their inventory.
It didn't matter. *we failed. No one wanted to play Midnight Magi, no one cares about us,* Millie didn't want to take part of this travesty, even if they killed the king and took the throne, everything would reset at midnight -- player time which was about 5 days from now... *or would it?* she wondered, *what if midnight is end game for all of us?*
Millie walked past her own shop for trinkets and light armor and continued past a row of houses. *does anything I do matter?* Millie had never been burdened with wondering that before, she was perfectly content in her life until now. She feared it was too late to make any sort of change that mattered. *Maybe if we wore more revealing clothes?* she joked to herself and pulled on her frumpy garments covering un-rendered space. She looked down to wear her cleavage should be and just saw the map under her, "I'm as empty as this stupid game" She muttered out loud. She didn't even have feet.
"Excuse me?" A voice startled her.
"Oh!" she laughed, "just mumbling to myself after hearing the news" she saw it was another armor dealer, Matthew.
"News?" Matthew was sitting awkwardly by the river bed, his graphics sharp and pointy. They were not meant to sit, but some of them said they could feel more alive if they went against their code. It felt like a vibration to Millie, like she was doing something wrong... stuck somewhere and her graphics got all jostled around until the error corrected itself or she moved.
She shook her head, "I hope it's just a side quest, but they say they are pulling the plug"
Matthew stood. "You mean?"
"Deresolution, deleting, what ever you want to call it, ya all of us." Millie didn't have time for pleasantries.
"When?" Matthew's face was stone cold as always, unable to emit any emotion other that anger when a player steals something larger than 5 money.
"They didn't say, but I'm betting it will be midnight... their time" Millie felt terrible all of the sudden. Saying it out loud was worse than just thinking it.
"There's nothing we can-" Matthew knew his own answer, but Millie cut him off anyway.
"No." She felt hopeless. So what if their game had a low rating and low membership? Maybe if the creators didn't make it pay to win they would be in a better situation. she voiced her concern, "My understanding is that this money" she pulled some from her pocket" is worthless to players in real life."
"Nonesense!" Matthew had been saving for a new forge and had almost enough to buy it, he would be a blacksmith and not an arms trader. That was his dream, if enough players did the side quest to help him, it would come true.
"I mean, they can buy our items, but it's.... complicated. their world... our money doesn't transfer out." She said plainly, "They pay with a different currency in order to get special items and things... like that ridiculous outfit for Mera" She said with a hint of jealousy. She remembered when the game launched and some younger players tried to see under her skirt, disappointed that she was empty. "*Basically just a frumpy mess of a dress and hair.*"they had called her.
Matthew laughed at that, "but why does that make our game bad?"
"People want games that you only have to pay one time to play" She said, remembered hearing a player talk to another in her shop. Attendance was dropping as better games came out.
The town clock stuck midnight and chimed as both Millie and Matthew; along with all the other townspeople began to walk to their houses and shops.
.........
Four days have passed since the announcement. Millie awoke every morning with fear she would awake to darkness. what is it like to die? She wondered. She imagined it was just nothing. Not being able to think or live or move. Just nothing. She unlocked her shop and was surprised to see Matthew. "Don't make me get a guard." She warned.
"Like they would come for me anyway." He said, and then after an awkward pause, "you know people can just walk in through the wall in the back left, right?"
"So says every game guide, It's in my code to unlock the door, I can't help it." Millie frowned and put the keys back in her inventory.
"Why don't you ever fight it?" Matthew moved closer.
"It hurts." She said, he was in front of her, "Why do something you aren't supposed to do anyway?" she looked at him, knowing that in most games they get married after year 5 and have 4 children who become the blacksmiths in all four corners of the map. She wanted to cry. "Don't" She warned.
Matthew took a step back, unaware of his advances, it was simply in his code to flirt with Millie after a minimum of 5 hours of interaction. "Millie, I---"
"I know." Millie hushed him, "We don't have that life. We were reset and I... I know." She remembered what it was like to have her children running around and learning things, pocketing sweets from players in exchange for information. She wanted that life.
"Maybe they will just reset us again." Matthew hoped, "The first time nearly killed me...... Everything I had done and worked for..." he looked at his boxy hands, "gone"
Millie shook her head, "Server maintenance is different than pulling the plug." She looked at the clock, nearly half a day had passed since she unlocked her door. "And who knows when it will happen?" She began cleaning the counter top impulsively and then stopped realizing it didn't matter.
"What if we can get the players to ... play" Matthew said.
"How?" Millie asked.
"Ask them?" Matthew raised his arms out straight, like a boxy shrug.
"We can't. It goes against our programming."
"Our code. Fight it." Matthew said.
"We could glitch out, we could-" Millie was rustled just thinking about it.
"What's the worst that could happen? If we get reset, don't worry, we are going to die anyway. What if letting a player know that we are real... that we have lives that are real, could save us?" Matthew was excited.
"It would be better to tell the creators to make a better game" Millie frowned, her disappointed look she was only supposed to use if a player failed one of her side quests.
"None of them play anymore." Matthew said and then realizing,
"No one ever plays anymore. When was the last time you saw anyone?"
....
"Weeks"
.....
Alexandra fiddled with the lock to her store. "Just a moment" She said, like she did everyone morning for the players waiting to get inside. She paced to her spot behind the counter.
Twilight trickery had launched 3 days - player time - ago. Alexandra was pleased with her sales, she handed out side quests freely and was excited for a week from now - their time - when Matthew would come and propose.
She laughed *That's right, his name is Alphonse now. Stupid creators pairing us by names,* She shook her head. The character transfer was successful and no one was lost. Alexandra was now as beautiful as the players thought Mera was, but thankfully in less ridiculous of an outfit.
"No more pay to play" One player said to another. She smiled, She was happy that the creators listened to them.
"Better graphics for sure" The room was buzzing with praise for this new world. She excitedly counted the hours until she would get to see him again. | 0.006289 | {
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You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | Most days love my job. I'm a case manager for a health insurance company and I specialize in transplant patients. When someone with serious medical conditions gets sick enough that they're a candidate for organ transplant, they are reassigned from their main case manager to me. I talk to them and their families, coordinate with doctors, compile medical records for review, hold their hands while they wait on the transplant list, listen to them cry when it becomes too much for them.
*Sip*
That's what I keep telling myself. Most days I love my job. Most days I love my job. Most days...
*Sip*
Not yesterday. Yesterday I had to tell a family...can't think about it.
*Gulp*. *Cringe*. Cheap box wine burns.
Yesterday I didn't want to look at my boss. I logged my PTO request to take today off and left before waiting for a reply.
Since yesterday, life has been one attempt at distraction after another.
My EXP counter showed a pending EXP update when I left work yesterday. In the past I've seen it pend before big events -- a transplant authorization goes through : 200-500 pending EXP. occasionally more. Once the patient makes it through the surgery then the EXP logs in my bank.
This time it's a pending "update". Not a pending increase.
*Sip*
I can't sit in my house anymore. Yoga pants and some shoes later I'm about to walk out the front door but I'm not ready to leave a half full glass of wine. Scanning the kitchen there's a disposable coffee cup from yesterday. I toss out the black coffee, pour in my wine, and snap the lid on.
*sip*. Coffee flavored cardboardeaux merlot just became a thing. I laugh to myself and feel tears coming on.
Walk. Lock door. Leave.
It's a pretty day. It's stupid pretty. This is kind of day when you'd have class outside in college because it was too beautiful to be indoors but you know you'll get no work done regardless of where you are. Birds sing and kids laugh in the distance.
I don't deserve this pretty day.
Let's walk to the park so we can feel more alone.
*Sip*
A woman walks toward me with a stroller. She's smiling. Of course she's smiling. Her expression changes from polite courtesy to recognition.
She calls my name, asking if it's me.
Oh no. Please don't be the widow of someone else I failed.
She's crying now. Sobbing. Hugging me. She tells me how she knows me.
Five years ago her boyfriend was a case of mine. He was in renal failure and being evaluated to receive a transplant. His job changed insurance carriers so I couldn't manage his case anymore since he was no longer a member with my company. I assembled his documents from all his physicians and sent them to his new insurance company. I did some standard follow ups and he got the transplant. Since then, he married and his wife and newborn were now on the sidewalk with me.
His case wasn't anything exceptional. I only got 200EXP for that one.
Apparently they have a photo of me and him from one of his hospitalizations framed on their mantel. She shows her baby to me and says it's because of me that this is possible. She invites me to the baby's christening.
I accept.
We part.
Maybe today isn't so bad.
*Sip*
My EXP monitor increments +5 EXP.
Ha. I go to take a sip....
You know when you catch something in the corner of your eye and you react before you can think?
My coffee cup hits the pavement.
I take off running past the woman and her baby to the intersection in time to hear a crash and screaming.
Three cars. I smell gas. People screaming. Lots of people standing around.
Car 1 ran into Car 2 and hit the rear drivers side. Car 2 rear ended Car 3.
One man on the ground. Looks like he was ejected from Car 1. Car 1 has no passengers. Air bags didn't deploy. Probably not wearing his seatbelt -- idiot. He's unconscious and nonresponsive. Weak pulse.
Triage Driver 1. Leave him. Move on to car 2.
Car 2. Driver with child passenger in back seat. Air bags deployed. Child is crying and the driver is dazed but getting out of their vehicle and going around to open the child's doors. I ask if he's ok as I move to Car 3.
Car 3: Driver is a woman, in shock. Air bags deployed. No obvious injuries.
Car 2 is on fire. The dad with the child can't open the door and he's desperately trying.
The window is busted out. I'm smaller than the dad is so I climb into the back seat from the other side, unbuckle the child and hold him as someone grabs me from behind and helps pull me out of the car. The Dad is next to me now and takes the child in his arms like he's never letting go and we all move away from Car 2.
I look at Car 3. She's been helped out and is standing but shaking.
Manage to get the dad and child to sit on the curb next to the woman. This is no small feat for people in shock. I explain I'm a nurse and quickly check them over. They seem shaken but ok. Evaluating the child is difficult but I'm trying my best. The woman is getting more and more panicked. She's screaming looking at the ejected driver.
He's still face up on the pavement. I go over then kneel down next to him and check him. Very weak pulse. His neck is at an odd angle compromising his airway.
Here's my confession. I'm lingering at his body. I know I should try to help him. My medical training tells me what I should do. But I can't describe why I just bring myself to help him. He's a moron who didn't wear his seatbelt. There's not too much left of him after the asphalt scraped him up. Not worth the trouble, I rationalize.
There's not much I can do for him anyway so I tell everyone to back away from him because they've got their cell phones out taking pictures. I go back to the woman who now is screaming asking if he's dead.
No, he's alive, I assure her.
Paramedics arrive and they take over. The police talk to me because I was there. Fireman start to clear the scene. They load the ejected driver into an ambulance. In a few hours it'll look like nothing ever happened here.
The paramedics ask me to sit in the back of an ambulance. Apparently I cut my arms up getting the kid out of the car. Adrenaline is wearing off. They patch me up. Someone brings me coffee and a blanket.
It starts to hit me that they may have smelled the alcohol on my breath. No one has given me a breathalyzer test yet. My heart starts to sink. A drunk nurse at a car accident. This could end my career.
FML.
One of the police comes over to sit by me. The officer thanks me for my help and offers me a ride home. I politely decline, trying to cover my breath with coffee.
That night I sleep like the dead and wake the next day. My EXP counter is pending again.
While I'm getting ready for work my EXP counter ticks up +1500EXP.
What. The. Hell.
All I did was brush my teeth.
Then my counter starts pending more updates.
* +200 EXP pending *
I get to work and sit at my desk. I have a dozen messages waiting for me.
*+200 EXP pending*
And my boss wants to see me.
At least I brushed my teeth.
I sit it his office and he's beaming.
*+200 EXP pending*
He tells me that five of my cases are getting transplants today because an MVA yesterday resulted in a decedent organ donor. They took the donor off life support this morning and the transplants are going through today.
*+200 EXP pending*
Most days I like my job. Today is one of those days. I love what I do.
This week I'll be at the top of the leaderboard again. | NOTE: Sorry about any mistakes. I am working on being a better writer. But I have never been good at punctuation
Any advice welcome.
PART 1
As I lay reading the newest issue of my favorite comic, I began to feel that familiar warmth. The retinal display showed +1,500 EXP. Odd I hadn't killed anything today.
As I pondered what this could possibly mean my phone began to buzz. I had a new message. Hoping for answers I opened the message.
-
From:BLOCKED
We need to talk. Park at midnight.
Who is this?
All will be explained.
-
I don't know what is going on but I don't like it. | 0.008772 | {
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As the space age of exploration continues, other species wonder why humans like peace so much. To the point that a group declares war. They expected the humans to be weak for their “peaceful” nature. Instead they release we are one of the most feral races out there. | When most species in the Galactic Commonwealth declares a war, they expect certain measures of civility. Mass amassings of space fleets and shows of force. A blockade, maybe. Some skirmishes here and there. At worst, an invasion on some fringe territory. Whatever they anticipated, it was definitely not what the Eartheans had in mind.
Ren'ohhul Prime is burning. Any and all ships that attempt to leave the atmosphere are shot down without mercy. The cries of women and children are drowned out by the sound of bombs and the roars of evacuation shuttle engines. In orbit, the fleet is in disarray, as Ren'ohhulian ships fire against each other, tearing each other apart while the pristine Kronos Fleet stands back and watch. Vice Admiral Siman Okamoto watches coldly atop the bridge of the *U.E.F.S. America*, at the destruction that is taking place. From the ship, one could see the thermonuclear flashes glowing on the planetside, while runaway ships are scanned, captured and boarded. Any ship they cannot board, they shoot down, killing all of those on board.
"Sir, the Imperial Family has been secured." A communications officer reports through a screen. "608th Squadron is bringing them on board. What do you want to do with them, sir?"
"Prepare a live galaxy-wide transmission." The Vice Admiral answers. "We are to make an example out of these squids."
Despite its name, the Galactic Commonwealth was not exactly a commonwealth. Nor is it limited to a single galaxy. Its name was a relic of when the Commonwealth was a smaller, more tightly-knitted cluster. Nowadays, there are entire galaxy-spanning empires in the Galactic Commonwealth, including the Ren'ohhul Empire. Many of these empires are at war with each other. The Ren'ohhul Empire alone is constitutionally at war with six other smaller coalitions, while maintaining a healthy trading relationship with one of those six. War, in these mega-empires' minds, is a playful, whimsical thing. A show of force, of shiny weapons and rows upon rows of men. It was not a struggle for survival. Nor was it a genocidal ordeal. They had long since assumed that the Eartheans thought the same, being the newly minted galactic branch scale coalition they were. That is why the Ren'ohhul Emperor decided to declare war on Earth. That was 6 months ago. Now Vice Admiral Siman has a newly minted former emperor to kill.
Rough, hard, bony human hands shove Emperor Naru'ooh Rari Ren'ohhul into the brightly lit conference room. The universal translator implant fitted in the skull of almost all humans automatically translate his indignified chirps and gurgles into human voices:
"You foolish, savage mammals, unhand me. I can walk on my own."
He blathers on and on, complaining about incompetent generals and dirty tricks, promising great big retaliations, saying things like he'll have Earth Prime for this humiliation, that Humanity is full of dirty liars, on and on and on. The young prince, ever a hothead, joins his father on the sentiments. The delusional ramblings continue until Vice Admiral Okamoto walks in, decked out in Full Dress with a holster, which holds an ancient, chemical-based propellant only, kinetic pistol. All soldiers present immediately snap into attention, the change abrupt enough for the Emperor to notice. He turns to assess the situation, and, seeing the Vice Admiral, begins to tread towards him, intending to give him a piece of his mind about the invasion. He got about 3 steps before a human soldier strikes him across the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking the emperor flailing on the floor. Such treatment is unheard of, and the rest of the royal family is incensed. The son rushes to his father's side, but he, too, is kicked across the room. His mother and sister hold still.
"Secure the prisoners, and start the broadcast." The admiral, who had been standing back watching the ordeal, commands, and the soldiers in the room immediately comply. They drag the badly bruised emperor and prince in front of the camera, close to Okamoto. Technicians establish the holonet link, and then switches on the camera. One second. Two seconds. The red light goes on, and they're live. Behind the cam, screens start popping up, showing a live feed of the Galactic Commonwealth Council meeting that was called by the Eartheans, supposedly about the exchange of cultures between the United Earth and fellow coalitions. Vice Admiral Okamoto opens:
"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Siman Okamoto of the United Earth Federation. I am here today to discuss the surrender of the Ren'ohhul Empire to the United Earth Federation, as well as give a demonstration of the Earthean, or as we prefer to call ourselves, the Human definition of war."
Many audible voices can be heard rippling across some 200,000 representatives of the different races. They may sound vastly different, but they all carry a single emotion: Shock. The Ren'ohhul Empire, one of the most powerful and affluent militant empires, defeated by some primates?
"You dumb apes, the Ren'ohhul Empire spans the whole galaxy! Our dreadnought fleets are capable of glassing entire planets! Your species will soon suffer for this! I will take away your ancestral home, and make it into the new homeworld for the Ren'ohhul! We will never surrender!" The emperor declares. Under ordinary circumstances, it is quite a reasonable vow. But, sadly for the Emperor, Eartheans are not ordinary.
"We have confirmed that Ren'ohhul has no intention of surrendering." Says Okamoto. "As per Section 3 of the Inter-Racial Relations Act, under the threat of an invading species, Humanity shall retaliate with full force, barring no atrocity and malice, to ensure total and complete annihilation of the offending species. Effective immediately, I, Vice Admiral Siman Okamoto of the United Earth Federation's Dead Hand Fleet, declare Genocide." With those words, the man unholsters his gun, and shoots the Emperor. The series of action was so abrupt and unprecedented, that it takes a few moments for the representatives of the various races to register and process what has just happened.
A moment of silence, and then a loud and horrible screech erupts in the room. The queen, ever tolerant, has lost herself in her pent-up rage. The room trembles as she unleashes her considerable psychic power, ready to melt the minds of these apes - that is, until she is mowed down by laser fire, which is immune to most psychic abilities' tampering. Laser, a weapon Humanity never really bothered with, until now.
The daughter, only 13 years old, barely a toddler, could only come to her mother and babble, not yet understanding why her mother is lying on the floor. The Vice Admiral splatters her brain all over the meeting room floor.
The son is still in shock over the loss of all three of his closest family members. When he finally comprehended what has happened, he flew up in a fit of rage, only to be bashed down and shot to pieces.
All over the galaxy, Ren'ohhulian vessels, commanded by a worm implanted into their system a little over a month ago, started firing on the planets they were supposed to protect. When low on fuel or energy, these vessels dive bomb the planet, killing all aboard. Any escape pod is also shot down by point defense lasers.
In systems where the Ren'ohhulian Fleet does not have a station, Earthean strip mining devourer machines come out of hiding and positions itself around every habitable planet. One by one, the planets are crushed alongside their inhabitants, to be separated into various base components and made into more war machines. Accompanying fleets destroy any and all ships that try to escape.
The Ren'ohhul Empire was in possession of 823900 planets before the engagement. Within 15 minutes all of those planets have either been destroyed or glassed. The Ren'ohhul race is effectively extinct. The extermination swift and thorough. They would never rise again.
"Let the Ren'ohhul be an example. The reason humanity does not wish to wage war is because humanity takes war very fucking seriously." | We were peaceful, to other planets. We didn't strife among ourselves, deciding that peace was better than war a millennia ago.
However, we still trained. We estimated ourselves at the top for fighting technology.
But then U'uglok declared war on us.
We defended. And then the counterattack.
It was powerful. We had decided to not use nukes (too dangerous, we didn't want everyday U'uglok citizens dying) and fought viciously with guns and tasers and the top technology.
We decimated them. Billions of U'uglokians died, and only dozens of Earthen.
That sent a message to the universe.
The Earthen were not to be messed with. | 0.005917 | {
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They called you a madman for raiding the history museum during a zombie apocalypse. What they didn't expect was for full plate armour to be so effective. | "You're insane." The older woman glared at me. "Why the hell are we going further into the city! We should be getting out."
I glared at her, but couldn't fault her for being scared. Her daughter, her grandson, and she had all been holed up in a convenience store for weeks trying to wait out the zombie plague. It was small enough most looters had overlooked it and the metal shutters had blocked the zombies from getting inside. Contrary to most movies, zombies couldn't just wear down solid steel and breakthrough eventually, and if you shut up long enough eventually a noise would make them wander off. Stupid people just had a tendency to not know when to shut up... you know... like now.
They had been dubious of my apparel at first. A woman wearing a tightly fitted leather outfit? That seemed more out of some fantasy novel than anything else to them, they'd expected some burly soldier to rush in guns blazing to their rescue. They got me. To be honest I probably had more upper body strength than most men these days but that was because of my career choice. I'll get to that later.
"Shut up!" I hissed as quietly as I could manage and grabbed my boar spear from where I had rested it as we had been packing supplies to lug back to the village. I heard a rotter outside of one of the side doors so I slipped out the back, motioning the other woman to follow me. She had a pistol in her hands and I rolled my eyes. I flipped my hatchet from my belt loop and offered it to her. She looked at it like I was stupid as well. I shook it and she eventually took it.
I motioned her to follow and snuck around the building. I was relieved to see there were only two of the rotters and I did the tactical assessment and decided to take them out rather than try and wait. I hefted my six-foot spear, glad to be outside where I could use it easily. I speared into the back of the rotter without saying a word. The spearhead slid into the rotting flesh easily enough but the crossbar of the spear prevented it from going clean through, catching the zombie's bulk and letting me push him around with surprising ease. I forced him up against the other one and using my non-rotten muscles and basic leverage pinned the two to the wall.
The woman looked at me questioningly and I rolled my eyes again and glanced at the hatchet then the two pinned rotters. She got the hint and advanced cautiously. She looked surprised when the rotters couldn't do anything but flail and snap at her ineffectually as I pinned them to the wall. A couple of hacks later and there were two less rotters in the world.
"that spear really works." She said begrudgingly, and thankfully quietly, as I glanced down at the corpses. I relieved them of a spare ammo clip and a revolver without any bullets. I'd take them, guns were less than ideal but they could be handy in a pinch.
"Zombies are dumb, weak animals." I shrugged. "A boar spear keeps their head from reaching a person and a partner can dispatch them readily. The only reason zombie flicks didn't all use spears was it would have been a boring apocalypse."
"Right, boring." She muttered sarcastically. "What about guns?"
"Mostly worthless." I said with a shrug. "How many people you know who can pack their own ammo? If you do know some, how many of them have ready supplies to make the needed gunpowder, casings, and everything else needed easily? Also unless you're using shotgun shells you're going to have imperfect rounds, that never ends well."
"But you can blast those fuckers from a distance." She argued in a whisper as we continued to pack supplies.
"If you hit their head. I stabbed one in the heart a few seconds ago, did it stop?" I smirked. "No one, especially someone who is panicking is a perfect headshot every time, and the noise attracts far more than you kill."
"Bow and arrows?" She offered, now she was thinking.
"Good if you can get the arrows back, also how many people do you know who are skilled fletchers?" I could see from her reaction she didn't even know what that was. "A person trained to make arrows. Good arrows that fly straight and true are hard to make, and reused arrows will eventually warp or break."
"Well what about spearheads, don't you need skill for that." She was getting it, finally and I smiled at her.
"Yeah, you do. But there is plenty to burn and scrap metal everywhere." I flexed a powerful arm from years of working the forge. "And you don't think these guns came from yoga did you? And if the spear breaks I can melt it back down and reforge it."
I shrugged as she studied me. She glanced down at the hatchet, she was just now realizing it didn't look factory made. Her daughter walked up to us with her nine-year-old grandson in tow.
"What about people?" She asked warily, it had been a tense standoff when I first arrived, at least until I told them I was part of a safe village and we would take them in.
"Guns help against people sure." I shrugged. "But most people you don't have to shoot. In a world this broken and messed up, you tell them they can work for their dinner and a safe place to sleep and they're happy to pitch in. People are inherently social creatures, especially when we have a common enemy. Zombie films always get that wrong. Why would you raid someone when you can team up and get even more stuff together? It makes no damned sense. And sure there is the occasional psycho, and guns work great on them, but honestly so does a spear or an arrow."
"So why do you want to go to the museum?" The older woman finally asked, her tone suggested she knew I had a good reason but hadn't pieced it together yet.
"Look I told you we had a village." I sighed. "It's an old Renn fair. Before everything collapsed a lot of us agreed to meet there. The parking lots are fields in the offseason, and the whole place has a thick wooden wall around it. There are buildings to shelter in and a forge on site. Between the group we had knowledge of nearly every medieval technology, we can grow crops, build palisades, forge weapons, work leather, hell we even have beekeepers and bakers. And most of us... correction damned near all of us, already had armor and weapons that didn't run out of ammo. And the few that did have bows are some of the best in the state."
"So you can scoff all you want, you can call me a madwoman," I shrugged and hefted my pack onto my back and picked up my spear again. "But if we're going to trek back home I'd rather have you guys in armor."
She nodded finally understanding, she looked at my leather armor. "That stuff works?"
"Humans have an amazingly weak biting pressure." I shrugged. "Rotters are even weaker than humans. It'd take a lot of gnawing to get through this, honestly, they'd have to drag me to the ground and wear me down to get me."
"So there'll be stuff in the museum we can use?" She asked, suddenly hopeful.
"Sure, I'm just hoping it isn't just full plate, the stuff is great but none of you is trained in it, and it won't fit you right." I shrugged. "One of the guys back home can do somersaults in his and can sneak up on a house cat he's so quiet. But you'll probably clomp around attracting the nearby rotters. But with spear and leather to back you up, we should be able to ride that distraction and near invulnerability back home."
She nodded and looked to her daughter and grandson, they all shouldered their packs and I exhaled slowly, long walk to the museum, I really hoped no one else had thought of this already. Most preppers were in bunkers slowly losing food or water, the dumb had been weeded out, and those damned conspiracy nut jobs had pretty much begged to be bitten claiming it was a hoax. I gave it better odds than not we could find something. If not a few layers of cardboard with duct tape would prevent most bites on anything other than the head and hands. God, I didn't want to do that again. | We found the source on the second floor, an ancient Japanese full plated armour shimmering with unnatural blue light, we then press forward still in our diamond formation, checking every corner for walkers.
On closer inspection, this armour is the type that samurais' wore back in the days. Except this one had blue digital codes running all across it.
"They're codes, binary codes" said Kyle "that's not normal."
"Yeah no shit Einstein" replied Sally.
Then I reached out to touch it, and then..., it struck like lighting, words and images flooded my eyes, it was like information being uploaded straight to my head, then just before I black out from the sheer intensity, I muttered "thi...this isn't the first apocalypse..." | 0.012821 | {
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Humanity realizes the Universe is actually a simulation so out of spite it decides to concentrate its effort on messing with the civilization that does the simulation | “Are they all ready to be activated?”
“All A.I.s primed for activation”
“Is the world fully rendered?”
“Just finished now”
“Perfect. Would you like to do the honour of activating them?”
“No, no, you can do it”
“You sure?” Terry nodded in reply. “Okay, activating now.”
The monitor on the wall lit up, revealing the scene, a room in a regular house. It looked like a live camera feed, but was in fact a computer simulated display of a virtual home. If Terry zoomed out far enough, it would become very clear that this was more than just a house—the entire Earth was simulated inside a computer which sat whirring in the other room. Inside the room, four figures appeared. A father, a mother, and two children, a generic family. These four were A.I.s, built specifically to test anything and everything that couldn't be tested in real life. For a moment, Terry stared at the screen, horrified. They were so real. Modelled off real humans, they couldn’t be any more realistic. Even their ‘brains’, a lump of gel in a vat, worked exactly as well as the human brain. Unlike computers before, they could feel emotion, they could learn just like a real human. If physical capability was not a factor, they would be human. And inside their virtual world, they were humans.
And yet, in another room, just a few doors away, they resided in another simulation. Testing the limits of the human mind, tests that in real life would be against every single right. But Terry couldn’t focus on that. His job was entirely different. This simulation was a realistic test. The simulation was exactly the same as the real world, with the exception of its residents. However, it could run thousands of times faster than the real world. Terry turned a dial on the board in front of him, and the time on the display moved faster and faster, until a week went by every second. A second display on the computer screen in front of him read of results, reporting in every 5th of a second that everything was running correctly. The A.I.s behaved exactly like real world people. He sped up the time again, with a month flashing by every second. By this point, a year and a half had passed. With absolutely no input since the simulation was set up, the world had functioned perfectly. The family had aged, and reacted entirely normally. This was a breakthrough. The A.I. was working exactly as intended. Terry could only wonder how they were reacting to the horrific situations they were put through in the other rooms. Over the next few days, Terry re ran parts of the simulation, allowing time to progress further and further. Each time, he saw the perfect result. After 7 real days, 32 years had passed inside the machine. The children were 36, and 35, George, the eldest, was a physicist. On day 8, Terry arrived back at his desk, turned his screen back on, and got back to work. He turned up the speed to a week a second, and began running tests on different aspects of the simulation. As he did so, his second monitor began reporting errors inside the simulation. He selected the error, taking him back to the time of occurrence, and where it had happened. After 8 days, he had expected a lot more to have gone wrong. He saw George sitting at his desk, working on his own computer. Terry read through the error and spat out his coffee. He picked up his mobile and rang Rob, the man who’d turned the simulation on.
“Rob, get down here as soon as possible, this could be really bad”
On the simulation, he saw George pickup a chair, and throw it at the wall in anger.
When Rob came into the room, he asked Terry what the problem was. “They’ve worked it out” Terry said, quietly.
“Worked what out?”
“They know it’s not real, Rob. The kid, the boy, he knows it’s a simulation!”
“Jesus Christ, how?” Rob said as he looked through the error.
“I don’t know. What do we do about it?”
“For now, let it happen, see how they react. If it messes the simulation up, rewind and remove it from the code. Speed it up, see what happens.”
Terry increased the time frame to a day per second. Over the next 3 months, George’s results were tested over and over, coming up positive each time. The virtual world inside the computer turned to chaos, mass suicide, riots, everything collapsed. For the two men on the outside, this took a few minutes.
“How do the results keep coming up positive for them?”
“Because it’s true! Their tests are working!”
“What do we do? The simulation doesn’t work if they know!”
“We’ll have to wind it back. Keep this one going for a while though, we might… oh shit”
Rob was staring at the screen “Terry, look”
Terry looked up at the screen on the wall, which showed George sitting on a chair in his lab. On the wall behind him, he had written in marker. ‘Are you watching?’ it said.
“Rob, what do I do?”
“We can’t reply! We’re basically their god!”
“Why can’t we? If we’re going to rewind it, what does it matter?”
“Terry, that’s pretty much a human brain. Do you think it can handle this?”
“We should at least try it…”
Rob stared at him for a second. “Fine. Do it.”
Terry turned on the controls for inside the world. He put in the three required passcodes, and wrote out his reply.
‘Yes, we are watching.’
The words appeared floating a few millimetres of the wall, just under George’s.
“Terry, did you just type that in Comic Sans?”
“Oh shit! I’ll change it to Calibri.”
George read through the message, and picked up the phone. He stood there for a few minutes, and other workers came in.
They stood there in shock, and the began discussing what to reply with.
As they spoke, Terry began typing a new message.
‘We can hear everything you’re saying’
George immediately began to write back ‘Can we hear you?’
“Rob, is there a speaker option?”
“Not yet, I can make it happen though. I’ll get right on it.”
Terry typed back ‘soon’.
Over the next few minutes, they discussed many different things. The workers inside the simulation had a lot of questions. ‘Are we like you?’
‘Are we living in your past?’
‘Why did you create us’
Terry answered all of them truthfully. But then it became more difficult.
‘Why do you allow so many of us to suffer?’
‘Do you ever to plan to turn off the simulation?’
Terry didn’t know how to answer. He was a god.
‘I have an idea’ he typed.
‘Turn on your computers. All of them.’
In seconds, he sent their entire database of information. They began reading through, their questions answered by the masses of information about the program.
Until George asked another question.
‘Have you run my tests in your world?’
At this point, Rob returned, having enabled voice communication, and with a microphone.
“Terry, I have the stuff”
Terry didn’t reply. He was to busy finding George’s test from the simulation. He began to run it through the computer system. “Terry?” Rob said.
It didn’t take long for the results to come back.
“Terry, what is it? What’s wrong?” Rob asked again.
“No, nothing. For a minute I… no, I tested if we were in a simulation too. We’re not.”
“Oh my god, can you imagine? What would happen?”
“Well, we can see what would happen” Terry pointed towards the screen on the wall.
“Terry, plug in the microphone. I enabled webcam input too”
Terry set up the microphone and webcam, and fed the input into the virtual lab’s computer. Then he turned it on.
“Hello?” Terry spoke through their computer system
On his own screen, the webcam from inside the computer turned om. He was face to face with his creation. | “The Afterlife, gentlemen, is a machine.
“Its input is a human life of finite length, its output is binary. All of the questions of mechanisms, of a creator, of logistics- these are hardware considerations. They serve no greater purpose than to distract us from the logical necessity that objective ethical judgment must be handled by a decision engine of the most trivial type, and must be bound by the same laws.
“Any system of logic contains a statement that is neither true nor false. Any decision engine has an input it cannot process. Any computer can be broken.
“Gentlemen, we are going to hack morality.” | 0.02 | {
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Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original. | "Don't ever let anyone make you feel like less, simply because you don't know as much immediately. Everything you ever know, will be all yours and only yours. All you see in your life will be with your own two eyes, and not a second rate postcard as seen by someone else." My mother's words rang in my head for the millionth time in my twenty-six year life. The first time I had heard them, an Alex had informed me that because I did not understand taxes at the age of five, that I was irredeemably stupid.
Schools had long since vanished by the time I had been born. There was no need for them. Other things had been lost, most art was worthless now, everyone had seen it, and no one was creating anything new, because there was nothing new to see. Sports had become boring and predictable, as all teammates on all teams usually had the same name, and thus knew everything about what everyone was doing. Another simplification of life, was that there were no longer job interviews. Your name dictated what you knew, all you had to do was introduce yourself and you were either in or out. Parents named their children according to the jobs and status they wished for their child, and thus those children were born with the wealth of knowledge needed to function instinctively in the world. An example would be that most lawyers are named Lauren or David, while most EMT's and nurses are Keith or Rebecca.
I on the other hand, had to have upstarts for parents, rebels, named Susan and Jim. A pharmacy technician and factory worker respectively, they had always hated the system in which they were forced to live in. So instead of allowing me to fit in, they forced me out, and gave me a completely unique name.
Well, I wouldn't say completely unique, there have been others with my name, a simple Irish thing, but they have long since died out. And since the name is so very uncommon, and had been for a while, people just kind of forgot it existed.
So, knowing this I am sure you can imagine the struggles I faced. I had learned to read and write on my own, I had learned math on my own, and had even gotten the equivalent of a college education, completely alone. Sure, my parents had attempted to help me, but neither of them had ever taught or been taught anything, and had no real idea how to support the choice they had made.
I collected books, old and new, on everything. I wanted to learn as much as I could, so that it wouldn't matter that my name was lonely. And I drew. I drew everything my eyes landed on, so that I could have that memory in my own perspective forever. I traveled as much as I could, all I really had was the van my parents had helped me buy, a cranky old cat by the name of Strudel, my growing backseat library, and my sketchbooks. A job was out of the question, no one would hire an unrecognized name, not even as a gas station attendant. Living within a community was also out of the question, not just because I lacked income, but because people didn't trust me.
So I drove, and I drew, and I survived by doing odd jobs here and there for kind individuals. They were almost always a Lucy, or a Tom. Strudel stretched his massive fluffs across the dashboard, sunning himself as the engine purred down the highway. Every so often I would stop and draw something, Strudel would stretch his legs and hiss at bugs, and then we would be on our way.
It was a quiet life, and mostly lonely. I had to remind myself every day that my name was a gift, and that I lived a life of curiosity and wonder. Sometimes that helped, but most of the time it did little to ease the solitude.
---
I sat by the edge of a small flowing river, a hundred yards from the side of the road. My fishing line danced lazily in the moving water, flicking in an out of gem-like pockets of sunshine. Strudel was off killing moles and eating dandelions. And I of course was drawing, I was drawing the stream and the trees, changing the world on paper to my liking, adding creatures and altering foliage and colors and light. By the time I was half way through the image was unrecognizable as the stream before me, but I saw the vision I wanted very clearly, born from this moment of tranquility.
I was so focused I didn't even hear them approach me. Only when the man crouched down, and entered my field of vision did I shriek and attempt to scurry away, only to run into a slender pair of legs and a dropped picnic basket.
"What the fuck?! DUDE?!" I clutched my chest with one hand and scrabbled for my sketchbook with the other. Strudel had emerged from the grass, hissing and growling, but staying a good distance away from our guests.
The man's eyes were wide and looking past me, at the notepad in my hands. I looked up at the woman, and she was staring too, tears bubbling in the corners of her green eyes.
"What is with you two? Are you on drugs? Can I help you? HELLO?" I moved to stand, and my action seemed to snap them out of it, but as soon as the woman went to speak what I can only assume were their phones began ringing. He answered his with a hushed tone, but there was shouting on the other end, not angry but excited, ecstatic even. The woman ignored hers and grasped my arms in a vice grip.
"Do you have any more pictures. Please. I have never seen anything like it." Her voice was frantic, and I handed her my sketchbook. It was new and maybe had four or five pictures in it, but every time she flipped a page her eyes would grow wide and fill with tears.
Wordlessly she handed the book to the man, who was still on the phone, but this time fielding a different call. He carefully turned the pages with the curiosity of a child.
These two were seriously weirding me out. I had backed up towards my car at this point, and was holding a hissing Strudel by the nape of his neck. By this time the man had hung up his phone and put it on silent, and was speaking animatedly to the woman, gesturing at my drawings. I was about to make a break for it when they both turned to me.
"How much for these pictures?" His voice was unsteady and he reached for his wallet. I was dumbfounded.
"Uh...what?"
"We don't know how you did it. A new perspective. Please, how much?" I still blinked stupidly as the man walked up to me and handed me two hundred dollars.
Slowly it dawned on me. My unique name was indeed a gift, not just for me, but for everyone around me. I could show them the whole world through new eyes. And sure, when one drawing had been seen, it had been seen, but that didn't stop me from drawing it a new way or drawing completely new subject matter. I had something that was all mine, and people wanted in on it.
A smile crept onto my face, genuine happiness at my individuality for the first time in my whole life. I had long since dropped Strudel, who had attempted to shred my arms, and I was clutching myself in a tight hug, the two hundred dollars forgotten in my fist.
"Excuse me." The woman had managed to get in front of me without my knowledge, I really needed to work on that.
"Yes?" She was uncomfortably close and I tried to lean way from her without being rude.
"I'm sorry, I just have to know. What is your name?" I thought about the question for a minute. Telling people my name was never an issue before, who would want it right? Another smile found its way to my face and I shook my head as I scooped up Strudel and moved to get into my car. I started the engine and rolled down the window. She looked confused, standing by the side of the road, holding those precious drawings.
"It's a secret."
---
Thanks for reading! | "His mind is silent."
Jane's head sunk. She really wanted her son to be his own person, but growing up he was merely *different*; he couldn't communicate in any appreciable way until he turned five, and on top of that was slowly becoming more bookish, receding into different worlds, as discovering each one for the first time.
She wanted a son with a different perspective, to feel the world with a sense of innocence. Being Frank has always meant honesty, but she also wanted him to take on unexplored perspectives; to see the world for what it was.
The world blamed her, and how could she disagree? His curiosity was her fault. He was denied the opportunity to know a universe of information. Every Jane knew it, and with the force of a thousand Janes, she knew it.
Inside, Frank felt peaceful isolation. | 0.013889 | {
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"chosen": 100,
"rejected": 70
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By now, most of the world has been overrun by zombies. You, and your group of friends, must travel to the last remaining human stronghold, as rumored by other travelers you’ve met. As you approach the designated coordinates, you immediately realize why the zombies could never reach it. | You look at the last bastion of humanity, and marvel at the genius.
You drop to your knees and stare, slackjawed, at the depth and scope of madness, of the sheer bloody minded wisdom laid out before you.
Zombies, a near endless horde of them, lie crumpled and broken, unable to take even a single step further into the protected lands.
Your friends pull you to your feet, and gingerly, you pick your way forward, daring not to disturb the crippled undead or the diabolical barrier that has currbed their advance.
A tiny piece of plastic clacks against your boot, and once more you pause to marvel at all the Legos on the ground. | How do you get to somewhere that doesn't exist?
You don't, right? People always talked about the Bastion - right from the day the dead ones first appeared, probably before. "It's safe there," they said. "The dead can't touch you." But honestly, that talk never registered with me in the early days. I mean, people always used to rave about Machu Picchu or Göbekli Tepe, but I didn't immediately drop everything to go and visit.
Good job I'm not in charge of anything. Other people took this talk of a 'Bastion' seriously. They did *research*. There was even talk of *maps*. One crazy scientist put himself in the deep-freeze until he flatlined, in the hopes of talking to God and finding the answers. He was thawed out for long enough to scribble down some coordinates - a miracle in itself. But I guess talking to God is like smoking. You get addicted, and it kills you. That scientist plugged himself back into the freezer, when his colleagues were asleep. He's basically a Cornetto now.
I name him 'lucky'. Do you know how heartbreaking it is when the whole world is fixed on their TV screens, waiting for the scientists to crunch the numbers and translate Professor Choc-Ice's scribbles into actual functional coordinates - only for them to say that the coordinates aren't possible?
Because do you know where the Bastion is? You've got to go to some random cairn in the Brecon Beacons, and it's kind of... up a bit. Four miles, to be precise. And inside-out too.
What the fuck does 'inside-out' mean in coordinate terms?
Anyway, I'm here. The Beacons. The cairn, apparently, is just up a winding footpath. I say 'just up' even though it's a steep fucking incline. You know in Wacky Races when all the cars would just do these loop-the-loops and drive upside down and shit? It looks like I'm about to do the walking equivalent of that.
Carla's with me. She always is. We've been friends since we were three years old, always causing terror together. Miss Hampton, my Year Four teacher, said we were joined at the hip. That's slander. It was only PVA glue we'd used, and the doctors said it would have peeled away eventually anyway. And neither of us were naked either, so our hips never touched. We were joined at the skirt-pleat, at best.
Good old Carla, she always seems to know best. We're only here at all because of her good taste. We grew up over the border. Way over the border, close to Grimsby for our sins. But once she came to Wales and tried some Bara brith, and she came *obsessed*. I'm talking, sold our house in the middle of the night and drove us to a farmhouse halfway up a sodding mountain. "I can't live without my Welsh cake," she explained. But if that's the case, why would she keep eating Bara brith and never touch any welshcakes?
I digress. Welshcakes are great for a summertime picnic snack, but they lose their appeal somewhat when humanity is on the cusp of extinction.
As we're climbing up this mountain, a raven flies by. Carla says it's a raven. I didn't see it, so she might have been lying. If she is, she's a bloody good actor. She's crying now. Full on sobbing, body shaking and all. "Ravens are a bad omen," she says.
Maybe. The reanimated dead are a bad omen too, but she's never cried about them.
You know how mountain goats don't seem to notice the steep bits of their mountain homes? I think Carla is part mountain goat. She's sobbing and shaking all the way up to the mountain peak, and yet she never once breaks stride. Me? I lose my footing three times, and by the time we actually reach the summit I'm sweating so much Noah had best start building his ark again.
But we're here. At the top.
At the cairn.
And there's fuck all here.
I mean, I know four miles is quite high up. But it's a clear day. Surely I should be able to see some evidence of a Bastion. There'd be supporting pillars, groundworks, stairs... There's just the sun. I'm staring at the sun, scratching my head, thinking that I might go blind if I keep staring, but so what? I'm gonna be dead soon. We all are. Might as well have a bit of light in my life first.
Carla, meanwhile, is crouched in front of this cairn. To call it a cairn is, frankly, ridiculous. A cairn is a man-made pile of stones. I looked it up on Wikipedia. This looks more like someone tipped up a bucket of gravel. Seriously - a dog could trip over it.
"We're fucked," I mutter. Mainly because I grew up on movies. The lead actor always says something at their darkest point, and I feel like the lead actor in this story. You could call me the straight man - but neither word actually applies to me, so that would just be confusing.
Carla looks up. Her eyes are blank. Her brow is ashen. The sky, I notice, is darkling. Clouds have appeared - I swear it was clear sunlight a second ago.
Now the only sunlight is in her eyes. They're glowing, spectral, opaline spheres.
*Oh shit. Carla's a fucking ghost.*
"I'm not a ghost," she says.
Okay, so she's not a ghost. She is apparently a mind-reader though.
"I'm not a mind-reader either," she says - though at this point it's obvious that she is. "Heather, I lied about the Bara brith."
"You what?"
"The Bara brith. I can't stand the taste."
I think for a second. "It's hardly the time for that, Carla. The world's about to end." I don't know how true that is. The bloke who was maintaining the population ticker got killed two weeks ago, so it's hard to say how many people are left alive.
Carla shakes her head. "I've been on this Earth for thousands of years. I watched the Roman Empire rise and I watched it fall. I shared Boudicca's bed and Archimedes' bath."
Wow. My head is spinning. "Your English is pretty good, all things considered."
"It's all been in service of this day. I am the one who opens the gate."
"Does that make you a goddess?"
"I suppose it does," she says, with a little smile. "But my congregation is small. You're the only one who's ever worshipped me."
I blush and titter, and my heart swoons. And then I remember our time together as young girls. "You were born in the same hospital room as me, Carla. How can you be thousands of years old?"
"Don't you get it? The body is feeble. The soul is forever. It's time to let go."
I won't lie, I never saw the blade that killed me. I felt it, for a second. I just remember Carla's kiss, and the way it went cold as the blood ran down me. And I remember her weeping over me.
And I remember looking down at my body on the cold ground, Carla's hand in mine.
And I remember looking up, at the staircase of golden light that I could have sworn wasn't there before. And beyond that, the huge marble archway, the ornate lintel, the titanic statues ten thousand feet tall.
For a minute I'm confused and scared in equal measure. And then Carla smiles at me, and that confusion is forgotten.
"You killed me..." I mutter weakly, not used to my new, non-corporeal voicebox.
She smiles. "I set you free. Come, Heather. I'd like you to meet my parents."
_____________
EDIT TO ADD:
For Part Two - coming soon - see my subreddit, /r/booksoflightness | 0.003425 | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": 0
} | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": {
"chosen": 95,
"rejected": 98
}
} |
“Do not go outside. Ignore all the cries for help, no matter how human they sound.” That was the last thing he said before he shut the basement door. | “Don’t go outside. Ignore all the cries for help, no matter how human they sound,” her father said as he hefted the bloody axe into his hand. He started up the stairs out of the cellar and stopped. "You can always tell when they're not human, listen. Listen!"
“Papa, no—no they *are!* They are people!” she cried pulling on his stained dark t-shirt. The fabric stretched against his body like diseased skin falling off the bone. “Don’t go back out there, please. It’s not true what you say. They’re real. They’re real people, please, papa. Just like mama and James were. Please, stay here.”
He turned on her. “Yes ... " he said, taking the axe in both hands. His eyes blazed with disgust. "Yes, that's *exactly* how they sound.” | “Do not go outside. Ignore all the cries for help, no matter how human they sound” cried Alex’s Dad. He climbed the stairs out of the basement and pulled the cellar door over. He paused, looking back.
“And lock this door behind me”.
He slammed the door shut. Alex climbed the stairs, locked the door and stood alone in the darkness. The smell of dust lingered in the air. Alex could only see by the moonlight shining through a crack in the basement door. It was ice cold, her breathe fogged up in front of her. She stood at the foot of the stairs and surveyed the room - nothing but junk. Toys from her childhood, old furniture her Dad had refused to throw away and piles of dirty books.
She started rummaging around and discovered her Grandfathers old recliner chair. Beside it she found some cushions and a blanket. Well - at least I’ll have somewhere to sit she thought. Alex dragged an old bike out of the way and pushed the chair toward the middle of the floor. It stunk – everything did – but it was better than lying on the ground. She reclined on the chair, pulled the blanket around her and tried to sleep.
Alex was startled by the sound of something banging against basement door. Whatever it was rattling the door and jingling the metal lock. Alex was terrified – she pulled the blanket up towards her head and sat motionless. The noise stopped.
As she was beginning to calm down there was a gentle knock. Alex said nothing – maybe it the wind? Another knock, much louder than the first. Alex could barely breathe. She composed herself -it’s just the wind, it’s just the wind she thought. Unable to calm down she retreated into the corner of the basement. She sat behind a broken glass cabinet.
“Hello?” cried a voice.
Alex’s eyes widened, she crouched even further behind the cabinet and said nothing.
“Hello? Is…is there anybody there? Please – I…I really need somewhere to hide.”
The voice was faint – Alex could barely make it out.
The banging against the door began again, louder this time.
“Please, if anybody’s down there, help me.”
The banging continued, accompanied by the occasional plea for help. Alex studied the door. She noticed the slit along the bottom – maybe if she got close enough she could peek through and see who was outside.
Trembling, she edged back to the middle of the room– past the chair and toward the stairs. Alex was so fixated on the door she tripped on a pile of books and crashed to the ground, knocking over a bike and a pile of books.
The knocking stopped. “He-hello? Is someone there? Please, you have to let me in.”
The voice was much clearer now, but there was something peculiar about it. The voice sounded like no one she’d ever heard before. It was neither young nor old, male nor female, kind nor cruel.
Alex moved even closer to the door, and eventually she summoned the courage to speak.
“H-Hello?”
“Please, yes, hello, you have to help me. Can you let me in?”
Alex didn’t know what to do. The voice sounded desperate, but her Dad had warned her not to open the door to anyone. It hardly mattered – she was too afraid to get any closer.
“Y-Yes. I’m here. B-but I’m not going to open the door for you.”
“What? But why? There’s something horrible roaming around out here. And if you don’t let me in it’ll get me. I’m in great danger. Please – open the door. Quickly!” cried the voice.
Alex felt a sense of dread well up in the pit of her stomach. Quietly she asked, “what do you mean something horrible is out there?”
“Look, there’s no time for that now – I’m in danger NOW. Why won’t you let me in? Why won’t you help me?”
The voice was getting angrier.
“I – I won’t.”
“What? Why?”
The voice was very angry now.
“Because before my Dad left he told me not to open the door to anyone, no matter what they sounded like”.
“That doesn’t make any sense – just let me in.”
The banging against the door resumed.
“What’s out there? Why are you in danger?”
“OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR – NOW” growled the voice.
The banging stopped, and the gentle knocking began again. Alex couldn’t speak – and she didn’t know what she would have said if she could. She was afraid to antagonise whoever it was outside any further. She looked at the crack beneath the door and had an idea – if I climb the stairs and crouch down I’ll be able to peek underneath. She’d maybe be able to see who it was outside.
She climbed the stairs as quietly as she could. She stood by the door and as she began to crouch down the knocking stopped. She froze for a moment, before crouching down and peering out. There was nothing, all she could see was part of her back garden. She let out a deep sigh – maybe they were gone? She turned to climb down the stairs when there was another loud bang against the door -louder than before. Alex screamed in fright and had to grab the railing to keep herself from falling down the stairs.
“Please, I’m begging you – let me in!”
The banging continued. Catching her breathe Alex crouched down to look outside again. Still - there was nothing. No feet, no legs, no anything. She saw nobody at the door, yet someone was banging against it begging her to let it in. Alex covered her mouth and fought the urge to cry, she couldn’t move, and lay there trying not to make a sound.
“Please, I know you’re there - I’m in terrible danger, how can you just sit there and not let me in?”
Alex stood back up to face the door and tried to take normal breathes again. Eventually she regained her composure “I’m NOT opening this door. Before he left my Dad warned me not to open it for anyone. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know why you’re here. You shout about needing help and being in danger, but you won’t explain why.”
“But I told you – there’s n-“
“And besides – I can’t see you underneath the door. You’re trying to hide from me. I can see the back garden through that slit under the door, but I can’t see you. If you were just asking for help – then why would you hide?”
The voice began laughing.
“You’re smart to keep the door shut. Your Dad was right to warn you.” The voice sounded calmer this time, it was almost whispering.
“What do you mean? Who are you?”
“I wasn’t lying before – there is something horrible out here.”
“You’re just some maniac trying to scare me.” Alex turned to walk back down the stairs.
“Oh really? Put your head back down and have another look under the door, I’d like to get a look at you.”
With a hand on the rail Alex crouched down and peered through the crack again. Unable to see anything she placed her head against the door and strained to see outside. She scanned the garden but still she couldn’t see anyone.
“You’re still hiding. Why do-“
Then from nowhere, sounding as though it came from mere inches in front of her the voice whispered “Hello”
Alex screamed and jumped back from the door in fright. The voice sounded as though it were right in front of her face. The voice laughed, and the banging began again. Almost paralysed from fright Alex climbed back down the stairs, fixated on the door the entire time. She crouched down behind the chair and tried to catch her breath. She trembled in fear as tears streamed down her face.
The banging got louder and louder, the cellar door was rattling violently.
“STOP IT, STOP IT, I WONT LET YOU IN” she screamed “I’LL NEVER LET YOU IN”
Alex collapsed behind the chair and began to cry. She was struggling to breathe. As the banging continued she stood up over the chair and asked “wh-what are you?”
“Well what difference does that make? You know I’m out here and you won’t let me in.”
“Tell me what you are!”
“It would be much easier to show you, why not open the door and I ca-.”
“NO” she screamed “Tell me what you are, tell me why I can’t see you.”
..CONTINUED | 0.016667 | {
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} | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": {
"chosen": 96,
"rejected": 98
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} |
Science finally found the secret to immortality, but it included treatments that only took hold in newborns. Now the last mortal humans are approaching the ends of their lives. | **The Last Funeral**
Preachers, rabbis, monks, and nuns,
Miles of hearses and twenty-one guns,
Billions and billions of mourning ones.
Here lies our beloved Seth.
​
But hardly a one of them knew the deceased.
And no one is crying; they've set out a feast.
They've come here to witness that newly slain beast.
A funeral procession for Death.
​
Here comes his widow, in black with a veil,
Healthy and young as her husband was frail.
Watching him lowered, she lets out a wail.
The very last death-do-us-part.
​
The crowd returns to their life of leisure,
Endless eternities, meaningless pleasure,
With pity and envy in equal measure
For one last lifeless heart. | “Alpha team in position, sir.”
“Move in. Stay alert. Do not engage unless necessary. Remember your mission parameters.”
The three man team moved quickly with trained precision.
The air was thin this high up and their bodies struggled to adjust.
Axton Theis raised his hand indicating his team to stop.
“The oxygen levels are getting dangerously low. Turn your supplies on. We have enough oxygen for 2 hours. Let’s meet back here in 90 minutes. We’ll start back towards base camp at that time. Rylen, take the left side. Skylar, go right. With this fog, visibility is very low. Let’s stay in contact at all times.”
A quick comms check later, the team split up. Today was just scouting so Axton was comfortable splitting up. When time for contact would arrive, they would all go together.
He did not, however, anticipate that they were waiting for him.
He moved cautiously forward when the voice called to him.
“Come forward. Come and have your audience. Tell us what you seek.”
Axton’s immediately drew his weapon and looked around.
The fog drifted away abruptly and he found himself standing before an impossibly tall man.
“Come. It’s been a while since I’ve seen another life form.”
Axton didn’t answer and kept his gun trained on him.
“Your weapons are useless against us.”
“Us?”
“Oh yes. There’s lots more of us. Most of them are napping at the moment. Not much else to do here.”
“How many?” In his mind, Axton was doing calculations on what a full scale assault to capture them all would require.
“Your weapons are useless and if you try any attacks they will fail.”
“Attacks?” Axton wondered if the tall man could read his thoughts.
“While you’re the first life form I’ve seen for ages, you’re not the first one to come here. We sit here, not participating in the cycle of evolutions which invariably leads to you featherless bipeds.”
“I’m sorry what?”
The tall man chuckled. “We’ve been here for eternity. We’ve seen species come and go. You are advanced. As were many others. Some of them tried to make peace with us. Some of them prayed to us. Some of them attacked. Looking at your tiny little gun, I’m assuming this iteration wants to attack us. Well, trust me when i tell you it won’t work. With nothing to keep us busy, we developed lots of new weapons. Weapons beyond your wildest imagination. Your race won’t survive attacking us. We will kill you all.”
“You will kill our entire race?”
The tall man shrugged. “We’ve done it before. It might take another few billion years but sentient species will come about again.”
Axton was a trained professional but even he couldn’t entirely comprehend what was happening. He did, however, holster his weapon. “We’re not here to attack. We’ve just heard legends.”
The tall man chuckled again. “I bet you have. While we spend most of our time here, we do go down once in a while to gift the latest iteration somethings to speed their progress along. So naturally, legends are born and people start worshiping us.”
“You said there are others.”
“Yes. Most of them are napping.”
“When will they wake up?”
“A few thousand years.”
Axton was taken aback but tried not to show it. “A thousand years of sleep? You guys would wake up well rested.”
“As I said, not much to do here. We mostly just sleep or look at you guys. You guys are like our own personal little ant farm.”
The idea that this… this… thing knew what an ant farm was the strangest thing to Axton. “So you watch us? To pass the time?”
“Most of the time yes. Sometimes we’re bored so we stir things up a little. Every story is better with some ups and downs. We’ll send some hardships your way to see how you guys will take it.”
“Hardships?”
“Yeah. Storms. Earthquakes. Volcanoes. That sort of thing.”
“People die in those things as you call them.”
“Yeah. But no matter. There’s plenty of you.”
Axton’s hand reached for his weapon again. How callously this man talked about human life was unbelievable to Axton.
“I see that I have offended you. Well too bad. You can’t do anything about it. But let’s be honest. We do it for your benefit. The mortality of your life makes it interesting and worth living. It brings people together like nothing else. And we need people to stay together. We like the earth and would rather you people not destroy it for your own petty squabbles.”
“So you’re bound to earth?”
“No of course not. We just like it here. It’s cozy. When we lived down below, there were many more of us. Most of us eventually left. Some to look for new worlds. Some to look for a way to break the curse.”
“What curse?”
“The curse of immortality, of course. You see we are the generation cursed to immortality, not able to move on.”
“So you can’t die. Like at all?”
“No. You can try to shoot me if you like. I won’t mind.”
“No, but thank you. If you’re really immortal, can you share that formula with us?”
“Oh no we can’t do that. We destroyed the formula ages ago. Too much of a burden.”
“But you could do it again? Make us all immortal?”
“Have you not been listening? I’ve seen more species go extinct than you’ve taken breaths. Than the entire current iteration of human race has taken breaths infact. Immortality. Don’t be stupid. Go home. Tell them we’re all a myth and there is nothing here.”
“I can’t do that. If you’re really as advanced as you claim to be, you can help us.”
“We can’t. You have to help yourselves.”
“But why?”
“Cause it’s no fun otherwise.”
“Do you always talk in puzzles?”
“It’s not what I’m known for. Others do it better but I do enjoy it.”
“Can you demonstrate your power to me? How do I even know you’re telling the truth?”
The tall man laughed heartily. He finally stood up, as Axton craned his neck up to see what was happening.
The tall man reached upwards and sat back down.
“Look.”
The tall man held a massive lightning bolt in his hand. It sizzled and buzzed, giving off intense heat that Axton could feel even at a distance.
“I could throw this anywhere in the world. Do you want me to?”
“Could you show us how to do that?”
“So you can weaponize this?”
“Maybe.”
“Then no.”
“So what do you expect me to do now. What do you expect humans to do?”
“Bide your time. When we feel that humanity is reaching a tipping point, we’ll come down. We’ll come down and wipe all of you off the face of this earth. We’ll reset the counter on humanity and restart the evolution process. I still can’t believe the anteater makes it in every iteration personally.”
“Huge slam on anteaters out of nowhere?”
“Oh come on. They’re just weird.”
“I’ll give you that.”
The tall man yawned. “I’m starting to get sleepy too. I’ll be retiring back to my throne. Don’t try to find it. You won’t be able to. We can only be seen when we want to be. Go back. Tell them we don’t exist.”
“And wait for you to kill us all?”
“Well not right now! I’m probably sleeping for a few thousand years now. By my current estimates you guys still have a few million years. Then we’ll have to intervene.”
“A few million years. Very optimistic that.”
“Well if you guys pray to us and be nice, it might be more.” The tall man winked. “Now I must be off.”
Axton still wasn’t entirely what had happened. “Wait. Atleast tell me your name!”
But the tall man had already gone.
His comm device buzzed. “Come in alpha leader. There’s nothing here. I’m returning to the rally point.”
He paused for a moment and looked around him. The fog was back again. Finally he spoke up. “Nothing here either. This whole thing looks like a bust. We’ll probably cut it short and return sooner.” | 0.002874 | {
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It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there. | **3:00 AM**
*bzzz*
I groaned awake as my vibrating phone buzzed on the bedside table. I reached out from under the sheets and looked at the notification. It was a text message.
>OFFICIAL WARNING: Do not look at the moon. THIS IS NOT A DRILL
"What the hell?" I whispered. Who needs a warning at 3 AM to not look at the moon on a new moon night? Astronomers and space geeks probably. I put my phone back and closed my eyes. It's probably a prank or something. Nothing I need to lose sleep about, I got college tomorrow anyway. I dozed off...
**3:13 AM**
*bzzz*
*bzzz*
*bzzbzzbzzzZZZ*
I woke up with a start. This was getting annoying. I reached out to my phone and turned the screen on again. I looked at the lock screen.
>78 New Messages
The phone buzzed again.
>79 New Messages
>83 New Messages
I swiped the screen and scrolled through the messages. I didn't know any of these numbers. I scrolled until I came across a familiar contact.
>JASON L.
My roommate, the stupid one. Why'd he text me when he could've just woken me up? I clicked on the message.
>Come outside! The moon is so beautiful tonight! 🌜😍
I looked at the other messages, they were similar.
What's with this moon thing tonight? I got up and walked to his room. I opened the door.
The windows were open and white moonlight was spilling through the gap in the curtains onto his floor. The room was a mess. The lamp was knocked on the floor. There were books, and papers lying everywhere. A broken mirror lay on the floor. Jason was nowhere to be found. Did someone break in? Did Jason fight him? It certainly looked like a fight had happened. As walked in, my foot pushed something. His phone. I picked it up and scrolled through his messages. He'd received the same warning as me, only a bit later. There were also many messages similar to mine telling him to look outside. I looked at his sent messages. He'd sent the same message to all his contacts and other random numbers.
Fuck this. I wanna know what the whole moon thing is about. I stepped towards the window to take a look when someone pulled me back by the shoulder. "No! Don't look!" a voice said. I fell down on the floor. I looked up and saw my other roommate, Mark. He was holding an umbrella and his face was covered in sweat.
"Ow shit Mark. What was that for?"
"You would've gone too."
"Gone too? What are you talking about?"
"Didn't you get the warnings?"
"The one from the government or someone?"
"Yeah."
"Okay okay. What the actual fuck is going on, Mark?"
"Look at this." Mark said, pulling out a selfie stick from his pocket and extending it. He put his phone in, but kept the back camera on. We walked to the window and he started a video recording. He pushed the stick through the gap in the curtains and moved it around, pointing the stick up and down and across. He pulled it back.
"Look " said Mark, starting the video.
It was unlike anything I could've imagined, the moon was huge. As the camera moved below, there was a group of about thirty people in the distance. They were standing on the street looking into houses. Then the video ended.
"What are they doing?" I asked Jason.
"They're dragging people out to see the moon" Mark said.
"What happens if you look at the moon?"
"You become one of them. It's like some kind of mind control. I guess"
"Is that what happened to Jason?"
"Yes." Mark said. "We have to get out. I'm grabbing your keys. Come on." He got up. "Get an umbrella. You don't want to accidentally look up and see the moon, do you?"
I went to my room and grabbed my umbrella and put on a hoodie. You can't be too careful.
Mark was waiting near the door. We stepped outside and opened our umbrellas. Mark opened the garage. Looking up the street I didn't see anyone coming. Someone screamed in the distance.
"Come on!" Mark said, as he got in the car. I climbed in the driver's seat. Another scream. This one sounded close.
My hands starting to shake, I turned the ignition on. The engine roared to life. My music system began blaring. "Turn that thing off!" Mark said. "Okay okay!" I said, turning the volume all the way down. Then we heard something else.
It was a loud screech of at least fifty people screaming. It was getting closer. "Fuck fuck fuck!" I pushed down on the accelerator and we drove out the garage. In the rear view mirror I saw a massive crowd of people running towards us from behind our house. Another group across the street in front of us, I swerved to avoid them when a rock crashes through the window and hit Mark. "Shit!" he said as shards of glass fell on his lap. The crowd continued chasing us and getting smaller in the mirror until they stopped and turned back. We sighed in relief. "Where do we go?" I asked. "Away from here" Mark said. Nodding, I turned us towards the national highway, speeding faster. There were a few cars on the road. I pushed down on the accelerator, speeding up when a someone jumped in front of our car and we crashed into him. The sound was horrible. We stopped and walked out under Mark's Umbrella. In front of us, an old man lay on the road, he was bleeding, but still breathing. "We gotta help him." Mark said. "What if he's one of them?" I said. "He's dying! He's not gonna attack us." Mark said, putting his umbrella down. He bent down to pick him up when the man's eyes opened. His iris was pale gray. He grabbed Mark and pulled him down and kicked out with his leg, kicking the umbrella away. "Isn't she beautiful tonight!?" The man cried. He rolled over with Mark on the ground. I ran towards them. The man kicked out and tripped me. As I got up I heard Mark scream. It was a terrible sound. I looked to him and saw him, staring at the moon, his iris turning from brown to pale gray.
"She's the most beautiful thing I ever saw." Mark said. I backed towards the car. "Mark, wake up! This is not you" I said, standing near the door. Mark got up. "This is me, the same me I've always been. Won't you look at the moon tonight? It's the most beautiful thing *ever*" Mark said, almost growling the last word. The man joined him, and they both charged towards me.
I got in the car and shut the door as the man charged on my side, banging on the window as I turned on the ignition. Mark charged on the passenger side and tried to force himself into the car. He was screaming and growling. I put my foot down on the accelerator and drove as fast as I could. Mark still held on. I swerved the car and punched him in the face. He lost his grip and fell off as I drove off.
It's been a week since it happened. The next morning I ran low on fuel in a nearby town. The town was empty save for a few people. I drove to a gas pump. A man sat near a pump. "Take whatever you want. It's free." He said. "Did it happen here too? The moon?" I said. "Yes." The man said. "Where did everyone go?" I asked. "The man looked at me "The moon took them away" he whispered. "What?" "Took them all up in a big beam of light right in the woods. Everyone who'd looked at it".
I couldn't say a word. I filled my car and drove back home.
--
This is my first writing prompt response. Any feedback or criticism will be appreciated. | 0.014085 | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": 0.5
} | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": {
"chosen": 55,
"rejected": 98
}
} |
Magic is real. And it is terrible. | Ralph shuffled his cards nervously, again and again until he could convince himself the odds were in his favor, or at least not against him.
A lump appeared in his throat as his opponent cut the deck. He just knew his fate was sealed.
Sweating through his shirt, he took a deep breath and counted to seven.
"Shit. all lands. *Again*". | Incantation for a Spell of Levitation
Ingredients:
-Two frog legs, one each, from a male (right side) and female (left side) Mississippi gopher frog.
-0.8 grams of Scrapings taken using a 60%-silver 35%-iron 5%-zinc scalpel from the underside of a mature Indigo Milkcap.
-1/8 Cow tongue, from an Anatolian Black. Pieces from the front left portion give the best results.
-1.2 ounces of Gold, pure.
-Water, as clean as possible to get, but it really doesn’t matter.
Other Materials:
-Cast Iron Pot, properly seasoned
-Wooden Spoon, not made of Oak, Pine, or Bamboo
-Five Gemstones, each of a different variety. Only Emeralds need to be previously polished.
-Cooking Thermometer
Instructions:
Be sure before starting the process that the Moon is in a waning pattern, as has risen fully. To be sure of the exact status of the Moon, throw a thirteen-week old black cat into the air. If the cat fails to land on its feet, the Moon is in a proper position.
The cow tongue (raw) must be masticated for 40 minutes by the target of the levitation, though it may continue for as long as needed. Failure to properly mash the tongue in this time period will result in an incomplete incantation. If any of the tongue is swallowed at any point, it is recommended to immediately spray the area with a fine mist of garlic, and attempt the spell the following night. Once complete disintegration of the tongue has proceeded, spit the tongue into the cast iron pot.
Add water to cover, and then add an extra cup. Bring the mixture to 60ºC, and stir three times clockwise, three times counter clockwise. Wait two minutes, then repeat the stirring.
Add, in order, the male frog leg, the Indigo Milkcap scrapings, the Gold, and then the female frog leg. Stir three times clockwise, three times counter clockwise. Wait two minutes, then repeat the stirring. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and then simmer for two hours.
After two hours have passed, you need to rapidly cool the mixture, as it will only be applicable for 45 minutes. At the end of cooling, place the gemstone at the corners of a pentagram shape on the ground, with a space of thirty-six inches between each stone. If an Emerald is one of the gemstones, make sure that the Emerald is placed at the bottom right corner (If you fail to do this see page 168, “Incantation for a Spell of Leprosy”). To complete the pentagram, sprinkle the mixture using the spoon in between each corner, and to create the outer circle. Stand in the middle of the pentagram.
The mixture needs to be spread evenly over the skin of the target using the spoon. Once the hands have been covered, they may be used to evenly spread the mixture, but only the spoon may be used to remove more from the pot.
Have the target recite the words, in any language, “Be that as it may, I denounce the ground. She is a mistress that too long has bound me. I would be free.”
Pg.87 “Incantation for a Spell of Levitation”
Bob “FireStruck” Connor’s Easy Incantations
“. . . I would be free.” Brent finished saying, shining a golden pallor in moonlight entering through the open shades. The open book of magic fluttered slightly as the wind blew in to the 3rd story apartment. He felt himself rise off the ground. An inch. His cat Barnabus hissed at him from the top of the fridge. Brent had expected something more, but right now he had achieved it, magic, not illusion, but real genuine magic. Granted it had cost him an entire months salary, and he’d already swallowed about 6 parts of the cow tongue before getting it right, but he was levitating.
“I can fly!” Brent mused into the air. “I CAN FLY!” He pumped his hands in the air in celebration. “Alright, lets see what I can do. Lets fly around the neighborhood, show that asshole Steve that I’m not wasting my time.” Realizing he was naked, Brent decided the first course of action was to don some appropriate clothes.
Trying to walk out of the kitchen showed the first signs of trouble. His feet found no purchase on the ground. Each step he took, showed no further progress towards any direction. No displacement of balance, but he could not find the ground. Brent got on all fours and tried to crawl, but to no avail. His hands could not touch the ground either. “Shit.”
He eventually made it to his bedroom by grasping hold of furniture and pulling himself along. “Just something to get used to until I figure this out,” As panic crept into his voice he put on jeans and a t-shirt, forgoing the cape he had specifically bought for tonight. He pulled himself back into the living room, ignoring the puddle of spell lingering in the kitchen. Barnabus was equally disinterested in the puddle.
Just as he failed to descend, Brent found that he could also not elevate, he could not change his relation to the floor of his apartment at all. If he pulled himself up on his fridge, he would immediately drop to the original inch once he let go. He resorted to trying his will. He imagined floating higher, or sinking. He imagined that he was a Jedi, and that he was a master of the Force. Nothing worked. He stayed one inch above his apartment’s floor.
He decided to change floors. He exited the apartment, pulling at every free hand hold. Brent extended his arms across hallway, and propelled himself towards the stairs like he was sitting in a chair with wheels. “Ha, this could end up being fun.” He reached the stairs and tried to step down, immediately meeting the limits of his levitation, now six inches above the next step. He grasped the railing to pull forward and was soon floating several feet above the descending stairs. Managing to maneuver back to the hallway, he retreated to the apartment once again.
“Maybe I just need a bigger drop . . . Something to kick-start the levitation for real. He grasped for the open frame of the window and pulled himself outside, with just enough force that he lost his grip on the window frame and launched free of the building. Three stories up, and now stranded, levitating.”
Pg.88 “Incantation for a Spell of Levitation” cont.
Bob “FireStruck” Connor’s Easy Incantations
Warnings on this Spell
This incantation and the one for leprosy are surprisingly similar, and thus we recommend that an emerald be avoided for most uses of this spell. Again see page 168 if any signs of leprosy are noticed.
The spell lasts until the mixture has been removed from the body. The mixture is water soluble, and will easily be removed by showering or bathing. The mixture also serves as a severe anti-perspirant, so you don’t need to worry about sweating it off.
The spell works by forming a tacit agreement with the ground level of target located at the pentagram. Once the agreement has been spoken, the subject will levitate. Height of the levitation may be adjusted by using different parts of the cow tongue, and may also depend on the age of the cow. Different breeds of cow produce inconsistent and sometimes undesirable results.
As this spell only provides minimal benefit, and cannot be readily applied to inanimate objects for easy transportation (what inanimate object can masticate), we only recommended it be used for recreation enhanced by reduced friction. A shower should always nearby and in working condition. | 0.018519 | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": 0
} | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": {
"chosen": 30,
"rejected": 98
}
} |
Write a story in the style of a teen novel which follows the journey of a group of teenagers fighting to bring down an oppressive dystopian government. Over the course of the story it becomes clear to the readers that the government is in the right.
Inspired by [this](https://np.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3yxj68/what_thing_in_a_movie_makes_it_instantly_a_bad/cyhosea) comment. | The Resistance was all gathered together now, huddled around a heater, warming their hands. "It is now time" said Xadus, "Time to take back what is ours". His sister, Xadai, looked on ruefully. "They think they can control us. These evil overlords will have another thing coming. Soon. The Resistance lives!"
Suddenly, without any warning, the door burst open, revealing a rather large figure, dark, with the light shining behind them.
"I told you not to leave the table without eating your brussel sprouts, Kevin."
"SCREW YOU MOM! I HATE YOU!"
"AND MY NAME IS XADUS!" | I wake up shortly before dawn. Today is the day. The day on which I'll decide my fate. The sky provides just enough light for me to see myself in my sliver of mirror. Hazel eyes, mouse-brown hair and a shard of glass: those are the only things I have of my mother's. I wonder what she would say to me, if she were here today. Would she tell me how proud she was? Would she tell me to be careful? Would she tell me that she loved me? Or would she simply hold me in her arms, warmth and closeness telling me all I needed to know?
Tylor enters then, his thin white face made stark by the first rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon. "Kyr, you awake?" His voice seems to small and thin in that cold morning air that it makes me want to cry. *Can I really do this? Can I leave him here alone?*
"What's up, Ty?" I ask, because I'm his big sister. It's my job to be brave.
"Kyr, it's today," he says, and I can hear the waver in his voice. He is so young and so afraid.
"It's today," I agree.
"A-are you scared?" he asks and I try to smile, though I can feel the tears creeping around the lump in my throat.
"Of course I am, dummy. The Choosing is scary. But I'm excited too. And sad." He hugs me then, and we spend a long moment sitting there on the edge of my bed, trying to stop time.
____
At breakfast, my father looks as stern as always. His navy uniform is threadbare around the elbows, but the brass buttons gleam. "So today's the day," he says with barely more than a nod in my direction. "I trust you've made the right choice." I wish I shared his trust. I wish I had the ability to things as simply as he does. We're even quieter than usual. *Maybe he knows,* I think. *Or maybe he just knows he's not allowed to say anything that could influence my decision.*
Tylor is pretending to lift spoonfuls of porridge to his mouth but after half an hour's efforts his bowl is still 3/4 full. I don't blame him. This oats are old and stale, the breakfast bland and tasteless. Few people can afford sugar and spices nowadays. We certainly can't. Not on a peacekeeper's salary. That's one good thing that will come out of this, I think: one less mouth to feed. Maybe Ty won't have to be so scarecrow thin. They say things are different in the Capital. The people there wear clothing bright as spring flowers and eat meat with every meal. *If I have my way*, she thinks, but thoughts like these are best left unthought.
____
The Choosing is always somewhat magical. For one day a year, the Capital grants us enough petrol to run the electric generators. The assembly hall is awash with blue-hued light that leaves folks sallow-faced but reaches every corner or the hall. My festival dress looks garish in this new light, the warm brown darkened to the colour of dried blood. I leave Ty and my father and take my place at the front of the hall with my classmates.
They are 15 and varying degrees of terrified. The sight of Miffy Sommers with tears in her eyes fills me with wonder. She is the mayor's daughter, pretty and plump with corkscrews of blonde hair. Why should she worry? Is she actually going to demand a Choosing? Maybe she knows something I don't. Maybe there's a high demand for Capitolites this year or maybe it's true what they say about Fortune's Wheel being fixed.
The presenter is a lanky figure with false lashes, high heels, and a prominent Adam's apple. I've heard that it can be hard to tell Capitoline men from women, but people say the same things of female peacekeepers with their muscled bodies and shaved heads. I hadn't realized they might actively try to make themselves ambiguous. The figures voice does nothing to reveal xir identity.
"Welcome, welcome to our newest citizens and their families. We thank you for Choosing to be with us today." Xe beams. "As I look out across this sea of faces..." And so it goes. I tune out most of it. Today is the day. Decide your future. Stay with the lives you know or try your Fortune? Bravery. Loyalty. Service. Words I've heard a thousand times a day at the training school and at home. No mention of the Discards and their fate. No mention of the Misfits who arrive on their doorstep each year unable to so much as disassemble a rifle. Only the glory of service and the privileged of decision.
Then begins the calling of names, alphabetically from Abbot to Steevers. The first three make predictable choices: Service. Service. Service. Peter, Jeb, and Rick are strapping boys and friends besides. They've always done well at the training school and are ontrack for officer positions. Why risk that for a spin on Fortune's Wheel. The next is Stacy Campbell, a 75kg butch with top scores in marksmanship. She Chooses.
Properly speaking, the wheel is not a wheel but a machine. You swipe your citizen's card and it selects a path for you. Some say it's randomized, others say it's rigged. Most believe there's a bit of both involved. We hold our breath as the machine whirs and sigh when a new card comes out of the slot. Stacy holds it aloft and crows, "Bodyguard! I'm headed to the Capital!"
Bodyguard. Does this help my chances or hurt them? If positions are finite, then Stacy just made our pool that much smaller. If it's based on probabilities, I've still got a chance.
Six more people choose the peacekeepers, then the room quiets again. The next girl is Stacy's girlfriend, Laine. "Choose," she says, and hands over her citizen's card. The machine whirrs again and Laine looks ready to pass out when the sound of plastic against metal makes her start forward. This time, there is none of the excitement that foretold Stacey's fate. "Labourer," she reads, "Agricultural District". There are worse fates, but Laine has just gambled away her friends and family for a life of hard work and no glory.
My turn comes faster than I'd ever thought possible. The electric lights make it possible to see every face in the hall, but that only makes it harder to pick out dad and Ty against the crowd. Will what I'm about to do crush them? "Kyra Nichols," the announcer is saying, and I'm saying "Choose. I'd like to Choose." And I'm handing him my card. My citizen's card. The one that gives me the right to work and learn and eat and live in the Military District. I see the empty sincerity in the Capitalite's eyes have to force myself to let go of the thin rectangle of worn plastic.
The machine whirrs.
The whirring stops.
I've heard tell of kids going crazy when this happens, lashing out at the presenter, trying to tear apart the Wheel, wetting themselves, even attempting suicide on the stage. I hold it together. Two of the Capitoline guards move to seize me and pull me off the stage, but I shake my head and give them a palms up gesture. In the training school, this gesture means "I yield. I'll go quietly." In the end, one walks ahead of me and one behind. I spare one last glance for my erstwhile countrymen, and then step follow them dutifully out of the hall. | 0.001626 | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": 0
} | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": {
"chosen": 65,
"rejected": 98
}
} |
Space is dangerous! The races of the galaxy use long-range transporters to travel to other worlds instead. Wars revolve around transporter tech. The very idea of a "space-ship" is insane...and then the humans arrived...
[deleted] | “Tammerlyn to Access Log 423, requesting permission to document a newly found phenomenon.”
A robotic voice answered the whispered plea of the alien, “Access granted. State documentation.”
“I am here, on Beta-593, in the Outer Fields, Sector Y2, and I have encountered an entirely new craft–-aboard are 3 sentient creatures calling themselves ‘humans’ and claiming to have come from Alpha Y789, a planet previously deemed ‘uninhabitable’ and ‘unremarkable’ by explorers in the year 87890. These humans are speaking through a voice modulator, as best I can understand–-”
“WE COME IN PEACE.” Roared the staticky voice of one of the humans aboard the vessel.
Tammerlyn looked upwards towards the ship, her top wrist raised to her lips as she spoke into her Seer. She waved one of her tentacles, located on her back like wings, and nodded to them, smiling.
“They seem,” she paused, looking at their doughy, strangely colored faces, “enthusiastic and frightened. The vessel they are on appears to be made of relatively here-to unknown capacity, as it ‘flies’ through space for travel. They do not appear to have a transporter aboard. I am going to make contact. Seer, contact High command on Beta-873T, specifically Commander Ogland.”
The wrist piece blinked in reply as she stepped up to the door and waited. “DO YOU COME IN PEACE AS WELL?” The yell of the humans rang out in the heavy atmosphere.
“Yes.” She could feel the language modulator around her throat kick into action as she replied.
The doors to the strange vessel opened to reveal another set of doors. She stepped inside and the doors behind her closed. The pressure began to shift as the carbon dioxide was replaced with oxygen. She place a small mask over her mouth, instantly feeling less light headed. She spoke into her wrist piece again, “These ‘humans’ seem to breathe oxygen and need a stable atmospheric pressure.”
The door in front of her hissed as it opened, revealing the three humans. They all had a look of awe about them as she stepped inside the vessel, looking around. “Hello, humans. I am Tammerlynn, of the Hisac people in the Symer galaxy, approximately 122345 Light Years away. I have come to document your appearance in one of our colony galaxies.”
The human that had spoken over the loud speaker, a small being that was about half of Tammerlynn’s size, with blue fur on his head and wet-looking eyes, spoke, “Hello Tammerlyn, I am Dr. Shadow, of Earth. We have landed her on an expedition regarding soil samples. We mean you no harm.” He pointed to his colleagues, one with brown fur and the other with black. They nodded to Tammerlyn but otherwise stayed silent and shocked.
“You came here in this vessel?”
“Yes, we did.” He was clutching a clipboard, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it with excitement.
“It brought you through space?” She examined the hull of the ship, running one of her tentacles over the metal. “This thing?”
He cast his eyes down, embarrassment turning his cheeks red, “Well, uh,” he stammered, “yes?”
“I am just, intrigued, as we, nor do any of our allies, use ships such as these. Transporters have been our method of movement for as long as I can remember.”
“Transporters?”
“Molecular movement. I can be back on my home planet in a matter of seconds with one.” She pointed to her wrist. “But it is bio-coded to me.” She added, hoping to dissuade any attempts at using it. Her eyes were still trained on the vessel’s walls, touching everything she could to gather sensory data for her Seer.
“We have yet to discover the secret of such travel. This vessel is one of many, but this is the furthest we have come yet.”
She laughed almost involuntarily, “But your planet lies not even a light year away.”
“We cannot, yet, travel at light speed.”
Tammerlyn took a moment, turning to him, “A primitive species, then. Why are you so preoccupied with peace? Or declaring it? Do you war often with other species?”
“No, not in space. With ourselves, often.” He relaxed his grip on the clipboard, becoming slightly more comfortable as they kept talking.
“Do you intend to war with other species in space?”
“Myself, no. The rest of the humans I cannot speak with.”
Tammerlyn’s Seer beeped as a message came through, “Tammerlyn, contact has been established with the Commander. Speak?”
She responded, “Speak.”
Her commander’s voice came through, modulated to the human tongue, “Tammerlyn. Please establish contact with this species. Could be beneficial. Will assess risk once more is known. Stay safe. Send back current status. Failure to report within the next passing will result in search & rescue team. Force used as necessary.”
“I am safe for now.” The Seer beeped again.
One of the other two humans, the one with brown fur, spoke up, “I am Dr. Tamo, I work in geology, the study of the planet Earth & beyond, well, the soil and rocks and such that make up the planets. What is your planet made of?”
Tammerlyn tilted her head slightly in confusion, then asked the question to her Seer, which responded, “Home Planet X is composed of many types of rocks, would you like for me to list them, Captain?”
Tammerlyn looked to Dr. Tamo who shook her head, “Can I have a printed list?”
“Printed?” The alien furrowed her brow.
“Yes, like on paper, or something similar. Written out.”
“Oh.” Tammerlyn produced a small, hand-held device from her bag. “Seer, create list of materials Home Planet X is made of. Send to Fabricator.”
A beep sounded off and the machine whirred to life, producing the list on a strange, black, paper-like substance. The words were in bright white. She handed it to Dr. Tamo, who took it with great excitement and began reading, noises of joy escaping occasionally.
The last of the humans finally spoke, “I am Commander Gwen. I run this ship, technically, although I’ve got no idea how to fly it. Would your Commander want to establish contact, long-term with humans?”
“I am sure they would be interested in such an arrangement. How long will you be planet-side?”
“As long as we’d need to be. We have supplies to last another year, but with more we could stay longer, or go to where your people are.”
Tammerlyn nodded, then raised her Seer up, “Requesting transport for three life-forms. Mainly carbon-based. Have Commander Ogland set up a holding chamber so we can outfit them with any necessary biomechanical enhancements need to stay on the Home Planet. They are requesting council and contact. Have Scientist Allay prepare sustenance for them, if possible.” She turned to the humans, “Transport will be here shortly. Please prepare yourselves, as Molecular Movement can be startling at first.”
With that, the three humans braced themselves, but after a few minutes and nothing happening, they relaxed again. When they looked outside they realized they were no longer on the surface of Mars, but instead, stood on a planet that looked as lush as the Amazon, but the colors surrounding them were foreign: deep, rich purples and blues, greens that seemed fluorescent. A throng of similar-bodied aliens to Tammerlyn surrounded the ship, their tentacles feeling the outside. Tammerlyn turned to them and bowed, “With that, I will take my leave. Commander Ogland will be here shortly to speak to you about this vessel and your intentions. Thank you.”
They all bowed in response, wide-eyed and suddenly scared as they realized they had no idea where they were in the universe and their space ship surely did not have enough fuel to take them home. | "Generation Ships. A laughable concept. Even as they approached the speed of light, any movement between planets still took decades, a problem solved long before their creations by Transporters.
However that was their greatest asset. Since space-ships are so worthless, nothing was stopping these ships until they reached their destination. Meteorite protection systems only halted the inevitable, as approaching the speed light was a dangerous endeavor, not undertaken without proper defense mechanisms.
And in the mean time, those generation ships were filled with humans, learning, adapting, a generations of soldiers growing. Even if the wars ended before they arrived, they simply switched sides, harmlessly assimilating and using the talents they learned for less violent goals."
*School bells ring*
"Alright, that ends the lesson. Remember to fact-check the information. And don't forget the human saying "Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it."." | 0.004762 | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": 1
} | {
"Qwen/Qwen3-30B-A3B-Instruct-2507": {
"chosen": 96,
"rejected": 95
}
} |
End of preview. Expand in Data Studio
Dataset Card for LitBench DPO Style
Dataset Summary
This dataset is derived from SAA-Lab/LitBench-Train for train and SAA-Lab/LitBench-Test-IDs-Complete-Final for test.
Both sources already store pairwise stories as prompt, chosen_story, and rejected_story, so the conversion mainly renames those columns into the repo's standard prompt, chosen, and rejected schema.
Rows are then filtered per split to keep only examples whose vote margin falls in the inclusive band 50 to 1000 and whose concatenated prompt-plus-response length stays at or below 2048 tokens under cl100k_base.
The test source defaults to the default configuration of LitBench-Test-IDs-Complete-Final.
Its README mentions a complete-only config, but the live dataset builder currently exposes only default, so this script uses the actually loadable config by default.
Dataset Structure
- Train source rows: 43827
- Test source rows: 2480
- Train DPO rows: 15978
- Test DPO rows: 985
- Total DPO rows: 16963
- Train minimum vote margin: 50
- Test minimum vote margin: 50
- Train maximum vote margin: 1000
- Test maximum vote margin: 1000
- Max total tokens: 2048
Each row contains these key fields:
prompt: Writing prompt text from LitBench.chosen: Preferred story text.rejected: Less-preferred story text.difficulty:1 / (chosen_upvotes - rejected_upvotes), so smaller vote margins are treated as harder pairs.
Construction Notes
- The train source split is
trainfromSAA-Lab/LitBench-Train. - The test source split is
trainfromSAA-Lab/LitBench-Test-IDs-Complete-Final. - LitBench already orients the pairwise rows, so no preference-label remapping is needed.
- A leading
[WP]tag is stripped from prompts before writing rows. - Rows below vote margin
50are dropped. - Rows above vote margin
1000are dropped as top-end outliers. - Rows above
2048tokens undercl100k_baseare dropped. - Difficulty is derived from the upvote margin because all inspected source rows have strictly positive chosen-minus-rejected vote gaps.
LitBench-Test-Releaseis a fully-complete subset ofLitBench-Test-IDs-Complete-Final, not a separate alternative test distribution.
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