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[WP] An Eccentric Billionaire Makes An Interesting Offer... $100,000/yr for the Rest of Your Life and All You Have to do is........... | Joe walked into the mansion and looked around.
“You’re obviously very successful.” Joe said to the man.
“Thank you for your honesty” The man responded, nodding his head with a straight face.
There was an awkward silence.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he said.
“Sure” said Joe. The man went into the nearby closet, took out a Segway, stepped onto it, and proceeded to drive down the large hallway in front of them. Joe figured he was supposed to follow him. As he walked down, he took a gander at the decorations in the hall as he passed. There were decorations all over the place, and very nice ones at that. What was weird, was that the floor plan didn’t seem to make sense - there was a Romanesque statue next to a picture of a zebra, an East Asian looking vase next to a wooden statue next to a spider, and a random couch in the middle of the hallway that the man almost hit while his segway.
“Oh, don’t mind that, nobody uses that anyway.” The man said.
Joe couldn’t help but ask “So why do you have it there?”
“Just for decoration.”
The couch looked like it cost more than Joe’s car.
Joe continued to try to keep up with the man down the long hallway until the man made a sharp left into another room. After a few seconds, Joe made it to where the man was, and turned to see him in the kitchen pouring two mug of coffee. The man motioned for Joe to sit down at the seat with the coffee mug “Joe” written on it in gold plated letters.
Joe sat down and lifted his coffee mug to his lips. The coffee was obviously burnt. Joe faked a smile.
“Do you like it?” The man said.
“Yes, it’s very tasty” Joe lied, still trying to keep it down.
“Good! That coffee cost $3,000!”
Another awkward silence. Joe tried to sip the coffee again- this time it was a little more bearable.
“Have you seen my watch?” the man said.
“Sure” Joe said as the man was already handing the watch to him. The watch looked to be plated with pure gold. Inside the glass of the timepiece, there was a silver backing with diamonds encrusted on it. The watch didn’t seem to tick, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
“If you hold it up to the mirror, it’s like you have two!” the man said, randomly pulling out a mirror from under the table. Joe held the watch up to the mirror. It shined and sparkled vibrantly in front of Joe, almost blinding him.
“So, do you know why I brought you here? The man asked. Joe didn’t know if the question was rhetorical or not.
“Well, I saw your advertisement in the paper.” Joe responded. The ad didn’t tell him anything really, but he pulled it out anyway.
$100,000 a year no manual labor no experience don’t need to have sex with me call my number for details
“Yes of course! Now are you aware of what the task is?”
Joe looked blindly. “No, I am not.”
“Okay, well let’s make sure you’re qualified first!” The man stared at Joe. Joe stared back. He had no idea what to do - was this some sort of advanced mind test? After a few seconds, Joe reached to grab his coffee.
“No, don’t move!” The man said as if someone had just shot him. “Sit up straight.”
Joe sat up straight and just stared at the man. The man said nothing. He didn’t even blink. “Am I allowed to blink? Is this a staring contest?” Joe thought. After thirty seconds, Joe’s eyes were beginning to water. This might be it, he thought. Joe blinked. The man did nothing. Joe continued to stare, blinking as little as possible. This went on for several minutes.
“Excellent!” the man said. “Keep it up!” The man started to snap his fingers directly in front of Joe’s face. Joe didn’t move. The man got up, walked over to Joe and rubbed his hand on his head. Then he walked over to the sink, poured a glass of water, and threw it in Joe’s face. Joe, though a little annoyed, still did not move.
“You pass!” the man said giddily. One could say the man looked like he won a million dollars, but that would be chump change to him.
Joe began to wipe the water from his eyes.
“You know those guards that don’t move or blink or shit at that big palace in Britain?”
“You mean Buckingham Palace?”
“Yea! Those guys are awesome! I went there a couple of weeks ago and I tried to get them to move. I tried everything, screaming, dancing, yelling, no matter what I did it didn’t work. I went home and put a sheet over my head to be dressed as a ghost and came back jumped out at them. Absolutely nothing. The only thing that worked was when I splashed a pitcher of cold water in the one guy’s face.”
Joe nodded his head, pretending to play along.
“So after I bailed myself out of jail”, the man said, “I decided that I want one for my house! Not one 24/7, that would just be an inconvenience. Only when I have guests over.”
Joe thought about it.
“You would be a perfect fit. I have a costume for you and everything, oh I’ve been planning this for weeks. You would need to be constantly on call, but I would only really need you for 5-35 hours a week, and some weeks I wouldn’t need you at all!”
Joe looked pensive.
“Of course, you would be paid the $100,000 a year no matter how many hours you work.”
“Can I take vacations?”
“I suppose, but not too many. I throw a lot of parties around here, so I’d need you around. People need to know how rich I am.”
Joe thought about it, and eventually he came to a decision. He decided to start his career as a well paid doorman.
| Richard sat in the dark leather chair, making a concentrated effort to appear calm and professional. He adjusted his position often, making small squeaks as his workmans jeans rubbed against the shiny leather surface. His hands moved by themselves from the arms of the chair to his lap at least eleven times since the moment he was asked to sit down.
It wasn’t every day you were asked to come to the office of the president of Menlo & Associates, Mr. Hughes Menlo himself, for an interview, and certainly not an interview to a job you didn’t apply for. Richard hadn’t even gotten the chance to get dressed out of his construction clothes. While working on the latest multi-million dollar complex, one of hundreds it seemed just on the east coast, Richard was pulled aside for an unscheduled, mandatory performance review. During which, they seemed to ask him questions that weren’t, strictly speaking, about his construction job, which involved the mostly boring task of transporting highly specialized equipment to and from the site using a standard company forklift.
Instead, they asked personal questions, confirming his current height, weight, even his god damn blood type. When Richard tried to turn the conversation to his job, he was politely asked to keep quiet, or was ignored altogether.
“Good news, mister Gallagher.” said the shortest, fattest suit with tiny, round glasses and a bald head. “We have an exciting offer for you, if you’re interested. We have a new position within the company, and looking over your qualifications...” his eyebrows raised slightly, as did the corners of his lips as he said that last word, “...we think you’d be perfect for it. It pays much better than this, and it’s not as apt to break your back.” he finished with an impish grin.
“What kind of work would I do?” Richard said quietly, not quite sure how he was qualified to do any desk work, if that’s what they were suggesting. He didn’t even use his computer for anything besides typing up e-mails and browsing the occasional adult website.
“We’ll let Mr. Menlo tell you that.” said the fat man, bearing his teeth in an odd smile. “However, we are allowed to tell you what he’s offering for the position...”
When Richard heard the amount, he all of a sudden felt like he hit the ground hard, with the wind flowing out of his mouth like a soul leaving the body. All he could do was stare blankly and make a barely audible groan. A hundred grand? A year? That’s more than a livable wage in the city, that’d obliterate all his debts, enable him to do everything he wanted. All he had to do was...was...not fuck up whatever Mr. Menlo wanted!
A door opened with a slight creak. Richard shook himself out of his memory and came back to the present. From behind him, loud footsteps, ones that seemed to have a hard clop, like a metallic sole attached to their shoe, were approaching him. He gripped the armrest and peaked around the gigantic leather chair he sat in, and his mouth nearly fell open in a comic gape.
“Richie!” said Hughes Menlo. He was dressed unlike any man Richard had ever seen. His suit was made of some reflective material, which seemed to not be any one specific color and bounced all types of light coming in from the windows around his office that took up most of the wall. His tie was a bright pink, and his hair, much like Richard’s himself, was a brilliant white blonde. Menlo’s, however, was combed back aggressively. His shoes were normal black dress shoes, but the bottoms looked like they had some steel lining. Richard could only manage a weak reply.
Menlo walked and sat right down on his armrest, causing Richard to squeeze as tight as he could on the opposite side of the chair.
“So, Mikey told me he found the perfect candidate for my new position.” said Menlo with a smile. “That would be you, I assume?” he said, pointing a perfectly manicured nail at him. “Did you happen to notice my new Magno shoes?” he stretched out his right foot, showing the metallic underside. “We’re experimenting with some anti-gravity technology for our labs, and just walking on the walls capitalizes on so much more space.”
“Anyway,” he said, hardly catching his breath. “that brings me to why I called you in here.”
“R-right, right.” said Richard. “Mikey- I mean, mister Johansson, told me that you needed me, for...” Richard didn’t exactly know, “for some help around your office.”
Menlo seemed to find this especially hilarious. “Oh, Richie, that’s right. Because, here at Menlo & Associates, the next frontier of technology is one we find for ourselves. And if you can’t find it now, you find it somewhere else.”
Richard nodded politely, not knowing what the hell this guy was saying, and wanted more than ever to return to his boring construction job.
“Even if that somewhere else, is some*when* else.” Menlo said.
“Sorry?” said Richard.
“Now, we haven’t figured out all the kinks yet. Last week, poor Tommy’s arm was sent to 1918, while the rest of him stayed back here, and that was just before lunch, but we’ve been working on this for years now and the investors are starting to get a little...whiny.”
“Uh, okay...” said Richard, not really trying to understand any more.
“Which is why we have you!” Menlo said and now he grabbed Richard firmly by his shoulders. His brilliantly green eyes were looking crazier and crazier. “You’re the spitting image of me ten years ago. We’re going to make you into me from the past, to show everybody that we’re doing all right, while we figure it out for real!”
Richard could barely understand. Didn’t really want to understand. They wanted him to act like this crackpot from the past, so people would really think that they had time travel figured out?
“But wouldn’t people who knew me- my identity-” Richard began, but Menlo put his finger to his lips. Richard wanted to punch him and storm out by this point.
“Don’t you worry, we have ways of making people’s lips sealed" he then took his finger away with a wink, "*And* erasing certain federal documents. If you really must know, my name isn’t even Hughes Menlo. Or the guy I was cloned from, more specifically. Anyway, that isn’t important right now. What really matters is that you become just like me, and convince the world you are me. Then I’ll pay you enough to be set for life. How does that sound, construction boy?”
Richard, more than ever in his life, had now cursed himself for every time he was not contented with his simple life, where he didn’t have to feel some maniac’s powdered finger press his lip, or ask him to walk around with metal cloppers on his feet, or wear ridiculous suits. He wished now he had just declined the offer to come here altogether. He could still do that now, couldn’t he?
“Well, one more thing...” said Menlo, now taking on a more serious expression. “I suppose it’s better if you did take it, now that I told you, because I really can’t let you leave here otherwise.”
Richard stared at him for what felt like a long time, waiting for him to crack up with laughter again. But he didn’t.
“I’d be, uh, happy to take the job, Mr. Menlo.” said Richard, not even trying to stop himself from shaking, which Menlo could no doubt feel through the chair.
“Please,” said Menlo, finally starting to smile again, though that was not at all comforting, “There’s no need to talk to me, or yourself, in such a formal manner. We’ll have a lot to work on, eh Hughes?” |
|
[WP] An Eccentric Billionaire Makes An Interesting Offer... $100,000/yr for the Rest of Your Life and All You Have to do is........... | I gazed into his dark eyes, as he paused to think for a moment. I had no idea why he had called me here, a relative nobody, working a ten dollar an hour job at the local hardware store. I was lucky, making more than minimum wage. What more could a man ask for?
When I was told that Mr. Flint wanted to see me, I couldn't imagine why a man of his stature, of his wealth, would want to see me. Little old me. I wasn't particularly good looking or tall. None of my relatives were particularly important, and I could trace my family back for generations. There was no way he was a long lost uncle.
Of course, when a billionaire - Mr. Flint, no less - asks you to meet, you say yes.
And so here I was, staring at this man's handsome face, waiting for him to finish his ridiculous offer. One hundred thousand dollars a year for the rest of my life! What could he possibly want? Time seemed to stand still as I anticipated what he would ask for me...
"Does that sound doable to you, Anthony? I can call you Anthony, right?"
I was so caught up in my thoughts I had missed his offer. "Could you repeat that again? I'm so sorry... I was lo-"
"No problem Anthony, it is as ridiculous as it sounded, I can understand why you would think you didn't hear me properly... All you have to do is kill me."
I searched for a smile, or any sign that would betray the practical joke he was playing on me. His one condition was to kill him? There was no way that could be right...
"I understand your trepidation on the matter... There are a few points of clarification I wish to make. You can't let anyone know about this deal, you cannot get caught. I will live on, business as usual, and I wont ramp down my security. I don't want to raise any suspicion on the circumstances of my death... you do understand that Anthony, don't you?"
"Yes... of course... I mean, I don't even believe this is real, and I'm not even sure if I could do it," I responded. This was surreal, this offer- I was just an average worker at the local hardware store making ten dollars an hour. I was employee of the months a few back, but nothing made me stand out.
"...but...*why*?" I asked.
"Does there need to be a reason? There is a task, and I need you to complete it."
"Why me?"
He smiled, as his eyes shifted away from my face. "You have a lot of questions, and I want just one answer. I can understand if you can't decide now, but please decide by tomorrow. If you accept my offer... do let me know, will you?"
~~~~~~~~~
Okay gotta get back to work sorry. | thats it? I just need to listen to the person who calls this cellphone for 4 hours a day, 2 in the morning 2 at night, say a couple of "hmm.." and "you're right" and i get 100k a year? Why?
"Because its bothersome"
Very well! Let me take the first call; "Hello? Hello" Ah there you are well let me tell you, today i went to miami to shop, the store was not as refined as it appears on the paper and my friend Linda wanted to buy there..can you believe it?" you're right "i know!"
Little did he know, this excentric billionaire had outsourced the pointless calls he receives from his wife..for only 100k a year... |
|
[WP] An Eccentric Billionaire Makes An Interesting Offer... $100,000/yr for the Rest of Your Life and All You Have to do is........... | I pulled out the slip of newspaper in my pocket for the seventh time in the past hour.
>Earn $100,000 Annual Wages - No Experience Needed - No Manual Labor
I read it over, taking each letter in. There was simply no way I was reading it correctly. A hundred grand a year for doing nothing and no experience needed. I put it back in my suit pocket and sat down on one of the nearby chairs.
"James McHenry." The receptionist called out. I got up nearly as soon as I sat down and walked to the desk, smiling to her. She didn't smile back, she had something else in her eyes. It looked like pity.
"Go ahead to the back, sir." She turned back to her computer, typing at somewhere around a thousand words a second. I gave a slight huff of breath and walked towards the office, noticing a disappointed looking woman walk out. I opened the doors and went in.
An elderly man sat at a white table. He looked up and smiled. White teeth, white hair, white suit, white table, and a black syringe.
"Mr. McHenry." He said pleasantly. "Forgive me for not standing up, I'm not what I once was."
I gave my most presentable smile and stood by the table. "Of course, sir."
"Please, sit, sit." He waved a hand at the chair.
I dipped my head in a thanks and sat down. The man was completely silent, just watching me. Most people would say something to break the silence, but I saw most people walking out disappointed. Best bet would be to play his game.
"So," he finally said, "a man worthy of an interview."
I said nothing, causing him to laugh.
"Don't worry Mr. McHenry, the silent phase is over."
I gave another smile, genuine this time, and spoke. "To be honest sir, I don't even know what I'm interviewing for. I don't even know your name."
"Well, what do you know about me?" He asked, leaning back.
I pondered that for a second, looking around at the room. "I'd say you enjoy the color white."
He laughed, a joyous laugh that made him appear much younger. "Yes, I most certainly do. In order to balance the information, what's your favorite color?
"Uh," I thought about it for a second. "Red. So, what's the job?"
"The job is you get $100,000 for taking this." He grabbed the syringe on the table and lifted it up. It was completely black so the liquid inside couldn't be seen.
"What is it?"
"Have some faith in me, Mr. McHenry." He had a twinkle in his eyes.
I sighed and grabbed the syringe from him, stuck it into my arm and injected the contents. I figure he wouldn't risk a lawsuit and he enjoyed his games so it was likely a test to see how loyal I could be. Probably had water in it or something. I felt a tiny surge hit me.
The old man smiled again and dipped his head. "You got the job, tell everyone to leave on your way out." The man looked older and less like he did just a minute ago.
"My way out?" I asked.
"Yes, you can do whatever you'd like. Never have to come back here again, Mr. McHenry, though I suppose you might." He said the last words casually, but it made me shiver.
I walked out and told everyone the position was filled, taking the stairs to avoid the elevator ride down with them. I got outside and headed to my car, frowning at the sight. The red paint job looked *unseemly*. I thought about getting it repainted. Maybe a nice solid white. | thats it? I just need to listen to the person who calls this cellphone for 4 hours a day, 2 in the morning 2 at night, say a couple of "hmm.." and "you're right" and i get 100k a year? Why?
"Because its bothersome"
Very well! Let me take the first call; "Hello? Hello" Ah there you are well let me tell you, today i went to miami to shop, the store was not as refined as it appears on the paper and my friend Linda wanted to buy there..can you believe it?" you're right "i know!"
Little did he know, this excentric billionaire had outsourced the pointless calls he receives from his wife..for only 100k a year... |
|
[WP] An Eccentric Billionaire Makes An Interesting Offer... $100,000/yr for the Rest of Your Life and All You Have to do is........... | I pulled out the slip of newspaper in my pocket for the seventh time in the past hour.
>Earn $100,000 Annual Wages - No Experience Needed - No Manual Labor
I read it over, taking each letter in. There was simply no way I was reading it correctly. A hundred grand a year for doing nothing and no experience needed. I put it back in my suit pocket and sat down on one of the nearby chairs.
"James McHenry." The receptionist called out. I got up nearly as soon as I sat down and walked to the desk, smiling to her. She didn't smile back, she had something else in her eyes. It looked like pity.
"Go ahead to the back, sir." She turned back to her computer, typing at somewhere around a thousand words a second. I gave a slight huff of breath and walked towards the office, noticing a disappointed looking woman walk out. I opened the doors and went in.
An elderly man sat at a white table. He looked up and smiled. White teeth, white hair, white suit, white table, and a black syringe.
"Mr. McHenry." He said pleasantly. "Forgive me for not standing up, I'm not what I once was."
I gave my most presentable smile and stood by the table. "Of course, sir."
"Please, sit, sit." He waved a hand at the chair.
I dipped my head in a thanks and sat down. The man was completely silent, just watching me. Most people would say something to break the silence, but I saw most people walking out disappointed. Best bet would be to play his game.
"So," he finally said, "a man worthy of an interview."
I said nothing, causing him to laugh.
"Don't worry Mr. McHenry, the silent phase is over."
I gave another smile, genuine this time, and spoke. "To be honest sir, I don't even know what I'm interviewing for. I don't even know your name."
"Well, what do you know about me?" He asked, leaning back.
I pondered that for a second, looking around at the room. "I'd say you enjoy the color white."
He laughed, a joyous laugh that made him appear much younger. "Yes, I most certainly do. In order to balance the information, what's your favorite color?
"Uh," I thought about it for a second. "Red. So, what's the job?"
"The job is you get $100,000 for taking this." He grabbed the syringe on the table and lifted it up. It was completely black so the liquid inside couldn't be seen.
"What is it?"
"Have some faith in me, Mr. McHenry." He had a twinkle in his eyes.
I sighed and grabbed the syringe from him, stuck it into my arm and injected the contents. I figure he wouldn't risk a lawsuit and he enjoyed his games so it was likely a test to see how loyal I could be. Probably had water in it or something. I felt a tiny surge hit me.
The old man smiled again and dipped his head. "You got the job, tell everyone to leave on your way out." The man looked older and less like he did just a minute ago.
"My way out?" I asked.
"Yes, you can do whatever you'd like. Never have to come back here again, Mr. McHenry, though I suppose you might." He said the last words casually, but it made me shiver.
I walked out and told everyone the position was filled, taking the stairs to avoid the elevator ride down with them. I got outside and headed to my car, frowning at the sight. The red paint job looked *unseemly*. I thought about getting it repainted. Maybe a nice solid white. | I gazed into his dark eyes, as he paused to think for a moment. I had no idea why he had called me here, a relative nobody, working a ten dollar an hour job at the local hardware store. I was lucky, making more than minimum wage. What more could a man ask for?
When I was told that Mr. Flint wanted to see me, I couldn't imagine why a man of his stature, of his wealth, would want to see me. Little old me. I wasn't particularly good looking or tall. None of my relatives were particularly important, and I could trace my family back for generations. There was no way he was a long lost uncle.
Of course, when a billionaire - Mr. Flint, no less - asks you to meet, you say yes.
And so here I was, staring at this man's handsome face, waiting for him to finish his ridiculous offer. One hundred thousand dollars a year for the rest of my life! What could he possibly want? Time seemed to stand still as I anticipated what he would ask for me...
"Does that sound doable to you, Anthony? I can call you Anthony, right?"
I was so caught up in my thoughts I had missed his offer. "Could you repeat that again? I'm so sorry... I was lo-"
"No problem Anthony, it is as ridiculous as it sounded, I can understand why you would think you didn't hear me properly... All you have to do is kill me."
I searched for a smile, or any sign that would betray the practical joke he was playing on me. His one condition was to kill him? There was no way that could be right...
"I understand your trepidation on the matter... There are a few points of clarification I wish to make. You can't let anyone know about this deal, you cannot get caught. I will live on, business as usual, and I wont ramp down my security. I don't want to raise any suspicion on the circumstances of my death... you do understand that Anthony, don't you?"
"Yes... of course... I mean, I don't even believe this is real, and I'm not even sure if I could do it," I responded. This was surreal, this offer- I was just an average worker at the local hardware store making ten dollars an hour. I was employee of the months a few back, but nothing made me stand out.
"...but...*why*?" I asked.
"Does there need to be a reason? There is a task, and I need you to complete it."
"Why me?"
He smiled, as his eyes shifted away from my face. "You have a lot of questions, and I want just one answer. I can understand if you can't decide now, but please decide by tomorrow. If you accept my offer... do let me know, will you?"
~~~~~~~~~
Okay gotta get back to work sorry. |
|
[WP] The first human in over one million years is admitted into heaven | We tried this once before, yes?
Yes, long ago. Different worlds.
But now we're trying again?
Yes.
How long?
About five minutes. His respiratory system is failing even now.
Guh. Physical life. Jeez. No thank you.
You should try it. It's enlightening.
Only if there's a way to have the experience without all the... biology... stuff... ew.
It's not so bad. Everything ready?
Yeah yeah. Sure. Uh... Pretty sure, anyway. It's been a while.
A million years.
Yeah.... so... was it hard?
Hm?
Being human, I mean. Back then. You were on a world too, right? However many million years ago?
Yes.
Yes, you were a human, or yes it was hard?
Yes.
Ah... right... so... three minutes now?
Two.
Ok. Um... what do I say?
He thinks his name is Abel. Welcome him home, and tell him he did a good job. Tell him everything is okay. It will all come back to him.
You mean he doesn't remember anything?
Nothing but being human.
Wow. So... he doesn't even remember asking to go down there? To do all that... biology... and... pain and stuff?
He doesn't remember. I did my best to tell him once he got there, but the flesh is so loud that he didn't hear much. Just a feeling now and then that there was more. Hope to carry on. That kind of thing. Thirty seconds.
But he knew he would forget? I mean, that was part of the deal, right? He'd start down there with, I mean literally nothing, right?
Yes?
So... Why?
Why?
Why do it at all? I mean this guy had his organs broken by his own brother - one of us! Why are people lining up to go down there if it's all this pain and biology and accidents and unfairness and everything else?
We go *there* to know what it means to be *here*. To be home.
I don't understand.
You will. If you go. Ah. Here he is! Well done!
| "Now we'll have to wait another million years" thought the monkey as the light in the dying creature's eyes went out. |
|
[WP] The first human in over one million years is admitted into heaven | His eyes blinked opened, slightly at first, god it seemed bright, but despite the blinding headache he felt better than he had in centuries.
"Well now, I'd thought you'd never show up, do you have any idea how long you've kept me waiting?"
That voice... He knew that voice, but that couldn't be, it had been too long, far too long, but still "Claire?" he rasped. God was that his voice? He couldn't even remember the last time he had spoken.
"It's me honey and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Claire replied
"But, but you died... I watched you die. I couldn't save you Claire, I failed, but I swore I wouldn't fail you again. All this time I've stayed alive for you. I've made sure you've never been forgotten" he blurted.
"I never should have made you promise that, I'm so sorry. Of course only you could have come so close to the impossible"
The light was dimming now, and he could finally see her, god she hadn't aged a day, a million years and he'd never seen anything that compared.
"What do you mean so close? I... I can't have failed, I still remember you Claire, and I’ll never forget you."
"You're dead James, after all this time you've finally died, but don't despair we can finally be together. The last human for over a million years has finally died. I’ve been waiting for quite a while in front of these gates"
Sure enough as she said this James looked behind her and saw gates. They seemed infinite and yet he knew they would open with the slightest touch.
"You mean, you haven't been in yet? All these years, weren't you ever curious?"
"I was scared James. First I was scared of dying, and forced you into that horrible promise, and then I realized that on the other side of that gate is every human who ever lived and died. Every single human except you and me. How would I ever find you in there? How would I ever even know when to start looking?"
"Well I'm here now" James said taking hold of her hand.
"Together forever?" Claire asked, big eyes gazing up at him.
"I promise" James replied without hesitation. | "Now we'll have to wait another million years" thought the monkey as the light in the dying creature's eyes went out. |
|
[WP] The first human in over one million years is admitted into heaven | "The first one?"
"In quite some time, yes."
"But...my dad?"
"Not here."
"My mother? My saint of a grandmother who wouldn't even look towards alcohol or swear?"
"Neither are with us."
"I don't get it. This is so unfair. I've done so much wrong in my life, why should I be the first one here in hundreds of years?"
"Everyone has done a lot wrong in their lives. It is interesting that you would even question your admittance through the pearly gates."
"I was brought up that this would be paradise. How can it be paradise when I can't even see my family? My unborn son? My best friend that got hit by some fucking looney downing a 40 on I-10?"
Peter sighed. After waiting so long to admit someone, he had gotten excited to hear he was finally doing it. He had built it up in his head that the angel would be excited and happy, but maybe humanity has changed a bit more than he thought they did.
"Why not step through the gates and ask Him yourself?"
He paused. "Ask why nobody else has gone through these gates? Why I'm alone when I'm supposed to be at my happiest?"
"Well, when you put it that way...never mind, just ask Him."
The gates opened and a feeling of might came across him. It the same feeling he got when looking at the top of a mountain from its base.
"No," he said before the gates were fully open. "No, no, I just want to be with my family. I want to tell them I love them every day and to stay near them."
Peter sighed again. "All right. Have it your way." | "Now we'll have to wait another million years" thought the monkey as the light in the dying creature's eyes went out. |
|
[WP] The first human in over one million years is admitted into heaven | "The first one?"
"In quite some time, yes."
"But...my dad?"
"Not here."
"My mother? My saint of a grandmother who wouldn't even look towards alcohol or swear?"
"Neither are with us."
"I don't get it. This is so unfair. I've done so much wrong in my life, why should I be the first one here in hundreds of years?"
"Everyone has done a lot wrong in their lives. It is interesting that you would even question your admittance through the pearly gates."
"I was brought up that this would be paradise. How can it be paradise when I can't even see my family? My unborn son? My best friend that got hit by some fucking looney downing a 40 on I-10?"
Peter sighed. After waiting so long to admit someone, he had gotten excited to hear he was finally doing it. He had built it up in his head that the angel would be excited and happy, but maybe humanity has changed a bit more than he thought they did.
"Why not step through the gates and ask Him yourself?"
He paused. "Ask why nobody else has gone through these gates? Why I'm alone when I'm supposed to be at my happiest?"
"Well, when you put it that way...never mind, just ask Him."
The gates opened and a feeling of might came across him. It the same feeling he got when looking at the top of a mountain from its base.
"No," he said before the gates were fully open. "No, no, I just want to be with my family. I want to tell them I love them every day and to stay near them."
Peter sighed again. "All right. Have it your way." | A million years seems a bit too long, mind if I go with like 1000? There weren't many humans around a million years ago... |
|
[WP]: describe the last person you talked to as if introducing a character in a book | I saw her waiting for the elevator with her bag over her shoulder and a pen in her hand, presumably having just finished another drawing of hers. She had on a pair of grey sweatpants and a black singlet, complimenting her tanned skin. Beauty without effort. Her flip flops smacked the ground as she turned to face my direction and her auburn hair flowed along her shoulders, down to her waist. Her gaze met mine and for a second, I looked into her round brown eyes but quickly averted my own as to not raise suspicion. The top of her head lined up directly with my lips and as we walked onto the elevator, I noticed her scent, magnificent as always. Maybe today I'll talk to her. Maybe. | She was a peculiar girl.. One born of hardship and struggle. Some would call her flat and lifeless, while others would call her weary, having seen and been apart of things that no normal girl of her age should have to go through. Her submissive personality, at first an act, a ruse she needed to create and hide behind, a necessity to continue her own survival, became her reality, a girl who had to raise her self in the stead of violent and substant addicted parents.
It was with a heavy heart I said goodbye, and waited for the click of the phone line as she hung up. I sat there, pondering my own feelings for her, and her lack thereof, especially after everything we'd been through together.
It dawned on me that maybe I was also a part of this survival mechanism. That maybe I was used as a part of her natural instinct to survinve. Not that I can blame her.. But I can't stop hearing that normally entrancing voice of hers telling me that she no longer loved me..
While others saw peculiar and strange, I saw a warrior, a girl who used what ever means she had avaliable to survive, even if that meant tagging me along for two years.
Another peculiarity, also more than likely resultant of her daily struggle, her reluctance to communicate how she truly felt. I may never know if she loved me as much I loved her, but even if I don't speak to her again, I know I won't have to worry about her.
For I know that no matter what happens, she will make it, blood, sweat or tears, and that's all that matters |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | "Pawn E4", a tired old man said. the white pawn sliding of its own volition across the holographic board, resting in its destination with cold precision.
"Really? After thousands of years you open the same way. Pawn to E5 is the only option here, said his opponent, who though similar in age appeared less world weary, parrying his move.
"It is a powerful opening, what more could you ask of me?", A twinge of fire sparked in his eyes draining the years from his face. "I am afraid old friend this shall be our last game, it is time to make a choice."
The platform was trimmed with steel and glass railings raised high above the ground of the park. Dozens of men and woman played various games, though chess dominated them. Familys walked with their children laughing at some joke only they heard. Dogs caught flying disks thrown by human and android alike. Small children played the timeless game of tag.
The sky broke through the thick dome as if nothing was there at all, mingling with artificial light. Ships of all sizes speckled the sky traveling in all directions. A dark crescent shadow passed over the chessboard blotting out the pieces for a moment. The men followed it and glanced at a young couple. The woman was reading a novel huddled in her lovers arms, who was stroking her hair and admiring her.
"We are going to end this?", the weary man stated bluntly, staring at the couple, his eyes wet. "The Love, the passion, the admiration of those we care about? Knight F3"
"All things must end, you stated this yourself. Less you forget about war, violence the destruction of the very planet you gifted them! They have spat on every chance that you gave them every LESSON you have taught. When will the teacher finally give up on his students? When I pulled the veil back from your eyes you cast me out! Black knight to C6" , a cold chill rose up in the air, causing the young woman to draw nearer to her lover. The pages of her book fluttered in the wind.
"Old friend look at the children below. See how they play? They know nothing of the sins of the past why should they suffer? Do their parents not love them regardless of the pain they cause in their life? Do they not suffer in vain? Look at the wonder they create with only the hands they were given? Bishop B5", he placed a weary hand on his chin.
"Yet you look past the harm they cause?", glancing at a child whose anger could be felt. He was yelling at his dog for stealing his treat. He grew more angry at the small animal as it began to cower away in remembrance. "Some harm lasts beyond the cause. When does it end? When does the hand that heals become the hand that ends suffering for good? I would end it all if I was allowed, just say the word and the cold fist of justice shall judge one last time. Knight F6"
The knight clicked into place with a slight shimmer.
"I will not snuff out what I have created. They learn, and grow in spite of and because of the pain they cause. It doesn't stop them, it doesn't slow them. What is love without anger? What is Pain without respite? Pawn D3"
"Do you not want those you love most to live without suffering? Without pain?"
The young woman gripped her head in intense pain, bolts of anguish tore through her body like lightning. The man stood up and quickly drew a small syringe gun from his coat, placing it with familiar precision on her neck. He held her close to his chest as the pain subsided, lightning became static, static became a whisper. The sound of his heartbeat, a beacon to relief. A guide in her madhouse.
"I think we shall continue this game another day. Some choices are better left unmade", The board shimmered away, the pieces faded almost instantly. His opponent only nodded.
"Love can be healer of all.", the old man did not look tired any longer. |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | It's really long... and I don't know how good it is. But here's my shot.
***
A figure sat alone at the chess board under a mighty oak. Swathed in concealing black robes too hot for the summer day, his face entirely obscured by a smooth, round, red and white ceramic mask devoid of any features. The couple picnicking nearby did not seem to notice the anomaly. If they had seen him, they'd likely have died on the spot. Could they not sense the dread emanating from him? Or were they too absorbed with one another to notice the psychic miasma that hung around him? Perhaps they simply lacked the requisite sense.
She appeared at the edge of the park, walking toward the table. Blond hair, whimsical, brightly colored clothing. She took a seat across from the masked man. The couple again took no notice.
"I'm surprised you came," the man said as he withdrew a box and began to place black pieces from it onto the board.
"You shouldn't be," she replied as she began to set her own pieces on the board.
"I admit it may seem… unorthodox. Perhaps a bit cliché. But in a way, I've raised the stakes, here. If you win, you won't just save them… you'll save everyone else in my future. And if I win, I won't just win this world, but I'll be rid of your incessant hounding."
The game was set. She took the first move and sat back, arms folded.
The man chuckled behind his impenetrable mask. "What, no conversation? That's half the pleasure to this thing."
"I'm not here for pleasure. I'm here to end this."
He sighed and moved a pawn into the center of the board. An aggressive move. "You take the joy out of it."
"There is no joy in this." She captured the piece.
He snapped forward, capturing her pawn with a well-placed bishop. She cringed. She'd made a rash move, and they both knew it. He'd gotten her unhinged. Her face assumed a calm demeanor, betraying no more than his mask. She made another move. More conservative, this time.
The couple to her left laughed at something one of them had said. She glanced over at them. He followed her gaze.
"Oh, don't be like that." He positioned his knight.
She moved her bishop defensively.
"You're supposed to say 'Like what?'" He maneuvered a pawn to threaten one of hers.
She defended with her knight, capturing the pawn.
"My response, of course, is 'the holy warrior,'" he continued as he captured her knight. Somehow she could tell he was smiling behind the mask. "'Oh, look at me. I'm protecting these people. Even the least of them is more valuable in my blah blah blah.' Come now, Fateweaver. You and I both know those two are inconsequential. Moreso even than the worst-positioned pawn on this board."
She captured his bishop with her own.
"They'll never amount to anything, not on their own," he said. "Sure, they can nudge events one way or the other. Maybe create something more important than they themselves are. But they're expendable. You can do with purpose and precision what they do fumbling in the darkness of fate. Why do you care for them so?"
"You have forgotten." She moved her pawn to position for an advance by her queen.
"There is much I have forgotten. Much I have relearned. That's not the point. You wouldn't die for them. I can see it in your eyes. You'd sacrifice them, if you had to. But you tell others that you do what you do for their sake. You're a hypocrite."
The woman on the picnic blanket stood, laughing, as the man stood to chase her. They ran by the players, and the woman reached out her hand, lightly brushing their wrists as they ran by. They did not seem to notice.
"You're a sentimental fool at the same time, though," the man said. "They're useless, but still you try to influence them. To improve an inconsequential pair of lives."
They moved several times more, each positioning for a strike. They found themselves in a deadlock. The couple chased one another around the tree, dodging the players by mere inches, weaving in and out between the board and the tree.
"So which is it? Utilitarianism or sentimentality? You'll sacrifice these few for the sake of the many. Let me have this world. You have my word I will trouble none others. There, you will win. This world is a small sacrifice in the scale of what I have wrought, what I can wreak in the future, even with you to resist me."
"You will have no more lives than those who must die to stop you."
"Bah. As if you could stop me. I could snuff out the lives of those two… with a thought."
Shadows grew around the man. The couple shivered, looking around. Their gazes passed through the players.
"Even you would not be able to save them," he said, his voice acquiring an unsettling monotone.
She moved quickly, knocking one of his knights over with her queen. The piece clattered across the board and fell to the grass.
"Brash. You know what your problem is? You're impulsive. You shouldn't have come here. I could kill you where you sit. Only my amusement holds me back from destroying you. Oh, you'd put up a fight, but in the end…"
He moved a bishop to capture her queen.
"Tsk."
He looked up. Her finger touched a rook that threatened his king without the bishop there to block it. And over her shoulder, there was someone leaning against a tree. Watching them.
"You little strumpet. You brought backup. I like you. Let's see this game through, shall we?"
He put his bishop back in its place and captured her second knight.
"You know, you're not unlike me. We both manipulate. We both sacrifice."
She took his rook.
"Only our goals differ," he continued. "Our methods are quite similar. Though you…"
He took her rook.
"You seem to enjoy sacrificing your more useful tools before they can see their true potential."
"It's not about potential," she said softly as she maneuvered a pawn. "It's about what's right."
The couple finally settled, flopping on the picnic blanket, laughter like the sweet song of a morning bird.
The man scoffed. "Come now, you're far too old to believe in that. All of the worlds you've seen. The ones you've ended. The ones you've started. There is no right or wrong. There is only power."
"And the one that has the most power determines what's right."
Anger crept into the man's voice. "Be silent. You know not of what you speak."
"I know very well," she said, her expression blank. "You know fear. And you fear wisely, though you hide it well."
He took her second rook. "Power is all that matters here. And you are nearly out of powerful pieces."
Behind her, the man watching them took on a desperate expression as he began to fade. He opened his mouth in a silent shout, then vanished. If she had noticed, she gave no indication.
They surveyed the board silently. She, with only her queen, her king, a knight and two pawns. He, with both rooks, a bishop and his king, though out of pawns. He was better positioned than she.
"This game is over, Fateweaver."
She moved her knight. "Check."
"Fool." He took her knight using his rook. "Check."
The couple nearby laughed again. She looked at them for a long moment.
"You're stalling. Make your move."
"Peace, devil. I will move when I am ready."
They were happy. It was written on their faces, on the fine lines and wrinkles around their eyes. The masked man was right, though. Their happiness was inconsequential, in the end. It was not unique. She recognized it because she had seen billions… trillions of people experience the same love. Many stronger than this. He was right. It was not special. They were not unique. Their love was as common as the grains of sand on the beach. It was in every way unremarkable to one who had lived as long as she had.
But it was sacred nonetheless.
She struck out with her queen, taking the threatening piece. It was the only option he had left her. He took it with his knight.
She moved a pawn to the final square. It morphed, the alabaster shaping itself into one of the rooks she had lost.
She sat back, with her hands folded in her lap. "The game is over."
The man sat staring for a moment, verifying her claim. It quickly became obvious. She had positioned her remaining pieces in such a way as to cut off his king's escape. And his other pieces were out of position from capturing hers.
"You know," he said, his voice acquiring that unsettling monotone again, "I never intended to let you claim your prize if you won. I'm not very good at following rules."
"I know," she said simply, regarding him with a blank expression.
"Then you'll die knowing that you beat me."
The shadows began to grow around him again, this time thickening into a cloying miasma. The branches that hung down near them began to wither. The grass blackened around him.
"I will," she said. "But not today."
The shadows vanished.
"What have you wrought, witch?"
"I'm not very good at following rules, either."
She lifted her hands from her lap. Minute threads appeared, running from her fingers to the couple on the grass. And from them, ran threads that encircled the cloaked man.
"You…" His voice dripped with hatred.
"No one is inconsequential. And that is why you have lost this game for the last time."
The man twitched against the threads, but they held him fast. He snarled.
The woman stood, suddenly looming over him despite her slight build.
"Checkmate."
| "I've always found this game to be charming." The old man with the peppered beard remarked, regarding one of the white pawns between his thumb and forefinger. "It's funny how like chess pieces the humans are. Mere pawns, destined only to be controlled." Chuckling softly, he set the piece in the proper place on the board, and looked to the balding man across from him. "And yet, they do seem to have their quirks, despite their weaknesses."
"They are more like ants. Easily crushed." The balding old man demonstrated this by squishing an ant that had crawled up onto the table in search of food. "Pests, and I am tired of indulging them."
"Yet for all their lacking size, they have a power that you do not often think of. Like the ant, able to lift so much more than itself." The bearded man finished setting up the board. "And they defend their homes and lives fiercely."
"Are we going to play or not?"
Smiling a little, the bearded man made his first move, shifting one of his pawns forward. "You know, it'll be a mistake if you get your way from this. They're more than just insects."
The other man scoffed lightly, and swatted away a fly that dared come too close. It fell to the ground, dead. "Mere insects. And I am the exterminator." He made his own move. "I cannot fathom why you indulge them so. It's like spoiling pigs for slaughter. They'll only die anyway."
"Brother, the only thing as certain as Death is life, and these humans find so much joy in life. Perhaps you should try it sometime." The bearded man moved another piece, then looked pointedly up at the other.
"Power is joy, and I have it all over them. What else do I need?" The next move was made with less finesse, accidentally knocking over another piece. The thin man cursed softly, uprighting the other pawn.
"Control." His brother observed, seeing the move. "And wisdom." He moved his piece, and took the others pawn.
"Control? I am a god to them, I am control. I know more than they ever will!" The balding man's face became somewhat red, and his voice raised slightly as he took another move.
"You still cannot control yourself. How many years have you been told to not let yourself get flustered? You have much to learn, little brother." The bearded man took another piece, smiling. His attention was briefly taken by an elderly couple that settled on a bench across from them. They must have both been in their eighties, chatting softly and holding hands.
"You sound like father." The other man snorted in mild disdain, moving his piece as he followed his brother's gaze. "I sometimes don't understand humans. They're so close to death, why are they here?"
"They understand something you do not. Love. They know the window of death will soon open to them, and yet they live every day in love, cherishing the value of life with each other. That is what you must learn, dear brother." He took another move, growing closer and closer to victory.
The balding man swept the board clean with a wave of his hand, standing up with a sigh. "Keep your humans. I need learn nothing from them." And then he was gone. The bearded man smiled, going back to watching the couple. "On the contrary. You have everything to learn."
And suddenly the couple was alone, smiling and sitting in blissful leave, unaware of what had occurred.
EDIT: spelling |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | "I've always found this game to be charming." The old man with the peppered beard remarked, regarding one of the white pawns between his thumb and forefinger. "It's funny how like chess pieces the humans are. Mere pawns, destined only to be controlled." Chuckling softly, he set the piece in the proper place on the board, and looked to the balding man across from him. "And yet, they do seem to have their quirks, despite their weaknesses."
"They are more like ants. Easily crushed." The balding old man demonstrated this by squishing an ant that had crawled up onto the table in search of food. "Pests, and I am tired of indulging them."
"Yet for all their lacking size, they have a power that you do not often think of. Like the ant, able to lift so much more than itself." The bearded man finished setting up the board. "And they defend their homes and lives fiercely."
"Are we going to play or not?"
Smiling a little, the bearded man made his first move, shifting one of his pawns forward. "You know, it'll be a mistake if you get your way from this. They're more than just insects."
The other man scoffed lightly, and swatted away a fly that dared come too close. It fell to the ground, dead. "Mere insects. And I am the exterminator." He made his own move. "I cannot fathom why you indulge them so. It's like spoiling pigs for slaughter. They'll only die anyway."
"Brother, the only thing as certain as Death is life, and these humans find so much joy in life. Perhaps you should try it sometime." The bearded man moved another piece, then looked pointedly up at the other.
"Power is joy, and I have it all over them. What else do I need?" The next move was made with less finesse, accidentally knocking over another piece. The thin man cursed softly, uprighting the other pawn.
"Control." His brother observed, seeing the move. "And wisdom." He moved his piece, and took the others pawn.
"Control? I am a god to them, I am control. I know more than they ever will!" The balding man's face became somewhat red, and his voice raised slightly as he took another move.
"You still cannot control yourself. How many years have you been told to not let yourself get flustered? You have much to learn, little brother." The bearded man took another piece, smiling. His attention was briefly taken by an elderly couple that settled on a bench across from them. They must have both been in their eighties, chatting softly and holding hands.
"You sound like father." The other man snorted in mild disdain, moving his piece as he followed his brother's gaze. "I sometimes don't understand humans. They're so close to death, why are they here?"
"They understand something you do not. Love. They know the window of death will soon open to them, and yet they live every day in love, cherishing the value of life with each other. That is what you must learn, dear brother." He took another move, growing closer and closer to victory.
The balding man swept the board clean with a wave of his hand, standing up with a sigh. "Keep your humans. I need learn nothing from them." And then he was gone. The bearded man smiled, going back to watching the couple. "On the contrary. You have everything to learn."
And suddenly the couple was alone, smiling and sitting in blissful leave, unaware of what had occurred.
EDIT: spelling |
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[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | “You know it wasn’t supposed to be like this.” The old man sighed.
“What, you again conceding the center to me so quickly.” The younger man sneered as he placed a knight on d4 and knew it would be a focus point for his upcoming attack. He hit the timer and leaned back in his chair with a look of satisfaction on his face.
“No. I mean religion. I never wanted it to end up like all this. Books with rules that you can’t break or you burn forever. Hell, what a concept Hell is, who even thought of such a horrible thing? These poor things live so short a time how could anyone condemn them to eternal damnation?” He moved his queen to the edge seeking a painfully obvious attack on the younger man’s castled king.
“You condemn them. They all believe you said these things and you don’t correct them. You don’t lift a finger to change anyone’s mind. All you do is let it all play out and get sad at the outcome.” The younger man sneered. A simple move of a pawn blunted the older man’s hope for an attack.
“Because it’s not for me to order anyone around and to tell them what to do, I only exist for them to aspire to be something more than just a hairless ape that kills and eats and breeds.” He stared at the board for a beat and then moved a rook to d1, he knew he couldn’t waste the rook to rid himself of the knight but he figured with a few moves he could get his poorly placed bishop over there and get an even exchange of pieces.
“I’m sorry Joe I don’t see the backgammon guy.” A woman shouted to a man who was jogging to meet up with her. She was a beautiful woman in a red pantsuit cut at the knee.
“I know my backgammon.” The old man said to her. “Got the board in my case right here.” He smiled as he tapped the case with his metal cane. “Once me and my good friend here are done I’ll give Joe a game.”
The woman smiled as she ran her hand through her raven black hair. “Oh really? That would be so sweet of you. Joe’s been complaining about a lack of opponents since we moved here, and I just happened by the park yesterday and saw an old man playing a bunch of people. I hoped he would be here.”
“Might not get your game.” The younger man said forcefully. She shuddered as his pale blue eyes fixed upon her. “Think this game is over in about five more moves.” He said as he brought a rook over to double his rooks on the F file, with the knight ready to protect them the attack on white’s king seemed unstoppable.
“Well then he’ll be able to play Joe quickly.” The young woman said, she avoided gazing upon the younger man and his unsettling eyes. Joe walked up to the three of them and almost instinctively recoiled in the presence of the younger man.
“No. He won’t.” The younger man sneered. “You talk of men being more than apes that kill and eat and breed. That’s all they ever have been and all they ever will be.” He turned his focus back on the young couple. “She carries a child inside her and it’s not even his.” He laughed as her jaw dropped in horror.
“What?” Joe asked. “How could you?”
“How could I what?” she asked “This man is crazy.”
“Lies. Beautiful lies. She’s been late a week hasn’t she? Men know the cycles of their woman.” The young man smiled, his teeth gleaming white.
“How do you know these things?” Joe asked
“I know humanity. In a way you could say I am humanity. This cretin on the other side of this table has held me back for far too long, but now it’s almost over, finally there will be no more restraint and finally I will bring humanity to what it’s supposed to be. Conflict and strife, survival of the fittest. I will have to find some way to get rid of all those nuclear weapons, they cheapen the game but in the end the great war will come and humanity will purge itself of the weak and infirm and become stronger, better, truer to what it was always meant to be.”
The young man glared at the old man, he quickly glanced at the board and the old man’s helpless position. “No more of your painting, your music, your art. Cave men scribbling on a wall and you cherish it. Why? What point does it serve?”
“It connects the people.” The old man replied. “Humanity has always done best when at peace, when living in harmony. Religion brought that about for some time, but now that time has passed. I fear it was a tool that was once useful but has now turned into a crutch for the narrow minded to lean upon.”
“It’s not a crutch to lean on.” The younger man said. “It’s a club to beat the other man with, the inquisition, the crusades, 9/11, the whole world has a giant ‘my God is bigger than your God’ complex going on and I’m going to let them figure it out. Maybe in the end they’ll see it was all a lie but then it won’t matter. Those that are left standing will be the ones who survived the fires of war. They will truly know what it is to be human.”
“The strong will still love and laugh and cry. They’ll still have emotions and feelings and share common bonds. They will mourn their dead and sing songs about their heroes. You believe their base instincts are all they are, but there’s so much more to humanity than who can kill the most people. I’m so sorry you’re so wrong on this issue, but I supposed we’ll always be in disagreement won’t we?” The old man said as he leaned back in his chair.
“You haven’t moved. Your clock has to have run out by now.” The younger man glanced at the chess clock and saw to his horror that it was his clock that was moving. Just as he noticed what was happening his flag fell, showing he’d run out of time.
“I moved this pawn over here.” The older man said. “Then I hit the clock while you were busy trying to ruin their relationship. It’s been a fun game but the rules are the rules and I’ve won. Good day to you.”
The younger man’s body shook with rage. His chest heaved as he stood from his seat. He slapped away the pieces on the board and sent them flying to the ground.
“Not going to praise me for using your tactics?” the old man said. “I’ve learned well from you my good friend.”
The younger man drove his fists into the board and leaned into the old man’s face. “You can never destroy me. I am humanity. I lurk in every heart. Every soul on this planet hears my voice. You only delay things you worthless old fool. This changes nothing! My time will happen!”
The old man dismissively waved his hand at the younger man as he stormed away. After a few moments of silence Joe looked at the old man. “So, about that game of backgammon?” he asked.
“Oh sure.” The old man said with a smile. “Oh and Mary, you’re not having a boy. What he said was right about religion, far too controversial, he’d get what he’d want, it would tear the whole world apart.” He wiggled his fingers at her stomach. “There, she’s a girl now. Nobody will ever believe that.” He cheerfully laughed as he said it.
“You can’t do this. We’ve worked over two thousand years to keep the bloodlines right. This was the moment of His return.” Mary said.
“I don’t know who you consorted with and what promises were made but I’ve unmade them.” He smiled as he pulled out the backgammon board. Joe sat across from him and glared him, his head shaking in disapproval.
“You know what we’re playing for.” Joe said.
“Oh I understand, but I must warn you that I while I suck at chess, I’m really good at backgammon.” The old man said as he picked up the dice.
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[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | It's really long... and I don't know how good it is. But here's my shot.
***
A figure sat alone at the chess board under a mighty oak. Swathed in concealing black robes too hot for the summer day, his face entirely obscured by a smooth, round, red and white ceramic mask devoid of any features. The couple picnicking nearby did not seem to notice the anomaly. If they had seen him, they'd likely have died on the spot. Could they not sense the dread emanating from him? Or were they too absorbed with one another to notice the psychic miasma that hung around him? Perhaps they simply lacked the requisite sense.
She appeared at the edge of the park, walking toward the table. Blond hair, whimsical, brightly colored clothing. She took a seat across from the masked man. The couple again took no notice.
"I'm surprised you came," the man said as he withdrew a box and began to place black pieces from it onto the board.
"You shouldn't be," she replied as she began to set her own pieces on the board.
"I admit it may seem… unorthodox. Perhaps a bit cliché. But in a way, I've raised the stakes, here. If you win, you won't just save them… you'll save everyone else in my future. And if I win, I won't just win this world, but I'll be rid of your incessant hounding."
The game was set. She took the first move and sat back, arms folded.
The man chuckled behind his impenetrable mask. "What, no conversation? That's half the pleasure to this thing."
"I'm not here for pleasure. I'm here to end this."
He sighed and moved a pawn into the center of the board. An aggressive move. "You take the joy out of it."
"There is no joy in this." She captured the piece.
He snapped forward, capturing her pawn with a well-placed bishop. She cringed. She'd made a rash move, and they both knew it. He'd gotten her unhinged. Her face assumed a calm demeanor, betraying no more than his mask. She made another move. More conservative, this time.
The couple to her left laughed at something one of them had said. She glanced over at them. He followed her gaze.
"Oh, don't be like that." He positioned his knight.
She moved her bishop defensively.
"You're supposed to say 'Like what?'" He maneuvered a pawn to threaten one of hers.
She defended with her knight, capturing the pawn.
"My response, of course, is 'the holy warrior,'" he continued as he captured her knight. Somehow she could tell he was smiling behind the mask. "'Oh, look at me. I'm protecting these people. Even the least of them is more valuable in my blah blah blah.' Come now, Fateweaver. You and I both know those two are inconsequential. Moreso even than the worst-positioned pawn on this board."
She captured his bishop with her own.
"They'll never amount to anything, not on their own," he said. "Sure, they can nudge events one way or the other. Maybe create something more important than they themselves are. But they're expendable. You can do with purpose and precision what they do fumbling in the darkness of fate. Why do you care for them so?"
"You have forgotten." She moved her pawn to position for an advance by her queen.
"There is much I have forgotten. Much I have relearned. That's not the point. You wouldn't die for them. I can see it in your eyes. You'd sacrifice them, if you had to. But you tell others that you do what you do for their sake. You're a hypocrite."
The woman on the picnic blanket stood, laughing, as the man stood to chase her. They ran by the players, and the woman reached out her hand, lightly brushing their wrists as they ran by. They did not seem to notice.
"You're a sentimental fool at the same time, though," the man said. "They're useless, but still you try to influence them. To improve an inconsequential pair of lives."
They moved several times more, each positioning for a strike. They found themselves in a deadlock. The couple chased one another around the tree, dodging the players by mere inches, weaving in and out between the board and the tree.
"So which is it? Utilitarianism or sentimentality? You'll sacrifice these few for the sake of the many. Let me have this world. You have my word I will trouble none others. There, you will win. This world is a small sacrifice in the scale of what I have wrought, what I can wreak in the future, even with you to resist me."
"You will have no more lives than those who must die to stop you."
"Bah. As if you could stop me. I could snuff out the lives of those two… with a thought."
Shadows grew around the man. The couple shivered, looking around. Their gazes passed through the players.
"Even you would not be able to save them," he said, his voice acquiring an unsettling monotone.
She moved quickly, knocking one of his knights over with her queen. The piece clattered across the board and fell to the grass.
"Brash. You know what your problem is? You're impulsive. You shouldn't have come here. I could kill you where you sit. Only my amusement holds me back from destroying you. Oh, you'd put up a fight, but in the end…"
He moved a bishop to capture her queen.
"Tsk."
He looked up. Her finger touched a rook that threatened his king without the bishop there to block it. And over her shoulder, there was someone leaning against a tree. Watching them.
"You little strumpet. You brought backup. I like you. Let's see this game through, shall we?"
He put his bishop back in its place and captured her second knight.
"You know, you're not unlike me. We both manipulate. We both sacrifice."
She took his rook.
"Only our goals differ," he continued. "Our methods are quite similar. Though you…"
He took her rook.
"You seem to enjoy sacrificing your more useful tools before they can see their true potential."
"It's not about potential," she said softly as she maneuvered a pawn. "It's about what's right."
The couple finally settled, flopping on the picnic blanket, laughter like the sweet song of a morning bird.
The man scoffed. "Come now, you're far too old to believe in that. All of the worlds you've seen. The ones you've ended. The ones you've started. There is no right or wrong. There is only power."
"And the one that has the most power determines what's right."
Anger crept into the man's voice. "Be silent. You know not of what you speak."
"I know very well," she said, her expression blank. "You know fear. And you fear wisely, though you hide it well."
He took her second rook. "Power is all that matters here. And you are nearly out of powerful pieces."
Behind her, the man watching them took on a desperate expression as he began to fade. He opened his mouth in a silent shout, then vanished. If she had noticed, she gave no indication.
They surveyed the board silently. She, with only her queen, her king, a knight and two pawns. He, with both rooks, a bishop and his king, though out of pawns. He was better positioned than she.
"This game is over, Fateweaver."
She moved her knight. "Check."
"Fool." He took her knight using his rook. "Check."
The couple nearby laughed again. She looked at them for a long moment.
"You're stalling. Make your move."
"Peace, devil. I will move when I am ready."
They were happy. It was written on their faces, on the fine lines and wrinkles around their eyes. The masked man was right, though. Their happiness was inconsequential, in the end. It was not unique. She recognized it because she had seen billions… trillions of people experience the same love. Many stronger than this. He was right. It was not special. They were not unique. Their love was as common as the grains of sand on the beach. It was in every way unremarkable to one who had lived as long as she had.
But it was sacred nonetheless.
She struck out with her queen, taking the threatening piece. It was the only option he had left her. He took it with his knight.
She moved a pawn to the final square. It morphed, the alabaster shaping itself into one of the rooks she had lost.
She sat back, with her hands folded in her lap. "The game is over."
The man sat staring for a moment, verifying her claim. It quickly became obvious. She had positioned her remaining pieces in such a way as to cut off his king's escape. And his other pieces were out of position from capturing hers.
"You know," he said, his voice acquiring that unsettling monotone again, "I never intended to let you claim your prize if you won. I'm not very good at following rules."
"I know," she said simply, regarding him with a blank expression.
"Then you'll die knowing that you beat me."
The shadows began to grow around him again, this time thickening into a cloying miasma. The branches that hung down near them began to wither. The grass blackened around him.
"I will," she said. "But not today."
The shadows vanished.
"What have you wrought, witch?"
"I'm not very good at following rules, either."
She lifted her hands from her lap. Minute threads appeared, running from her fingers to the couple on the grass. And from them, ran threads that encircled the cloaked man.
"You…" His voice dripped with hatred.
"No one is inconsequential. And that is why you have lost this game for the last time."
The man twitched against the threads, but they held him fast. He snarled.
The woman stood, suddenly looming over him despite her slight build.
"Checkmate."
| wow. thank you for all these submissions. |
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[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | "Check."
She grinned, and surveyed the board. I knew her next move. She did as well. But analyzing things is her nature. Cool, calculating, rational.
A delicate breeze ruffled her wavy white hair. It felt nice. Simple. Pleasant. I enjoyed taking on a human form; the sensations are unique. Exquisite. Not at all like existence in our realm.
She moved her knight into a defensive position. "Finally." I said, with feigned exasperation.
"Rushing headlong into situations is a recipe for disaster. It's a shame the humans never figured that out..."
"Oh, stop." I cut her off. The dance continues. In essence, neither of us has anything the other lacks. We just play different roles. It's all part of the grand design.
"You must admit, they've come close to figuring *us* out..." I began.
"Oh?" She remarked facetiously, "Enlighten me."
"The tao, shiva and shakti, the science of the right and left brain..."
"That is far from a science." She interjected.
"Well, it *is* rather artistic" I mused, gazing at a young couple on a nearby bench.
"And that is the heart of the issue," she continued, "They cannot reconcile..."
She isn't "evil", as the humans would say. Just rational. The experiment hasn't achieved its stated purpose, and likely won't. The humans do suffer, but not constantly. If they desire to continue, I say allow it. I let my attention focus more on the young couple nearby.
"...and we've discussed their deities exhaustively. Throughout the project, they have described facets of our realm. They then proceed to kill one another over minor discrepancies. Hardly grounds for a continuation..."
"Check." I say, cutting her off. She looks at the board. She blinks. Have I done it? Did I rattle her? She is pure rationality. My path to victory is irrationality. I must make moves that are so irrational she cannot predict them. Cannot process them. But she knows this. Maybe the blink was contrived. Maybe she is luring me in, like a moth to a flame.
She moves her king out of danger. Uncharacteristically quickly. No lengthy calculation of the board. Maybe she's trying to draw me into her web. Or maybe...
"Look at that couple." I bring the bench to her attention. It's time to make the final push. There isn't much riding on this game. It's just one universe. But I've grown fond of the humans. I think they have potential. "You remember that feeling, we lived several lifetimes as humans..."
"It's a chemical process. A part of the natural system. Their perception of it is intriguing, but nonetheless..."
Their perception, intriguing? She wouldn't cede the game outright, but maybe...
"Perception is a central tenet of this whole project." At this point, I'm just trying to keep her talking. Keep her attention on the young couple.
"Yes, but..." she continues. If my knight were one square to the left, I could win this game in three moves. I could slide it over while she's distracted. She remembers where it is, of course. She probably knows the position of every chess piece on every board in this park. But maybe...
"So you think we ought to discontinue the project entirely?"
"I feel that after weighing the net results of the last million years in this universe..."
Did she just say "I feel"?
Moving this piece while her back is turned is outside the rules of the game. If, and presumably when, she notices, she can disqualify me and declare the game over. Maybe that's what she's trying to do.
But maybe she learned something about irrationality from the humans. I actually can't tell. But she has a role, and so do I. I slide my piece to the side.
"...I understand your attachment to the humans, but this is my opinion." She concludes, still gazing at the couple.
"However," she continues, turning to lock her eyes with mine, "as agreed, the final decision will be made by the winner of this game."
She breaks her gaze to look at the board. I indulge myself in my human emotions, knowing this could be my last chance to do so. Anxiety. A tightness of the chest. A palpable tension. She looks back at me, a trace of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
"Your move." | wow. thank you for all these submissions. |
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[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | wow. thank you for all these submissions. |
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[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | It's really long... and I don't know how good it is. But here's my shot.
***
A figure sat alone at the chess board under a mighty oak. Swathed in concealing black robes too hot for the summer day, his face entirely obscured by a smooth, round, red and white ceramic mask devoid of any features. The couple picnicking nearby did not seem to notice the anomaly. If they had seen him, they'd likely have died on the spot. Could they not sense the dread emanating from him? Or were they too absorbed with one another to notice the psychic miasma that hung around him? Perhaps they simply lacked the requisite sense.
She appeared at the edge of the park, walking toward the table. Blond hair, whimsical, brightly colored clothing. She took a seat across from the masked man. The couple again took no notice.
"I'm surprised you came," the man said as he withdrew a box and began to place black pieces from it onto the board.
"You shouldn't be," she replied as she began to set her own pieces on the board.
"I admit it may seem… unorthodox. Perhaps a bit cliché. But in a way, I've raised the stakes, here. If you win, you won't just save them… you'll save everyone else in my future. And if I win, I won't just win this world, but I'll be rid of your incessant hounding."
The game was set. She took the first move and sat back, arms folded.
The man chuckled behind his impenetrable mask. "What, no conversation? That's half the pleasure to this thing."
"I'm not here for pleasure. I'm here to end this."
He sighed and moved a pawn into the center of the board. An aggressive move. "You take the joy out of it."
"There is no joy in this." She captured the piece.
He snapped forward, capturing her pawn with a well-placed bishop. She cringed. She'd made a rash move, and they both knew it. He'd gotten her unhinged. Her face assumed a calm demeanor, betraying no more than his mask. She made another move. More conservative, this time.
The couple to her left laughed at something one of them had said. She glanced over at them. He followed her gaze.
"Oh, don't be like that." He positioned his knight.
She moved her bishop defensively.
"You're supposed to say 'Like what?'" He maneuvered a pawn to threaten one of hers.
She defended with her knight, capturing the pawn.
"My response, of course, is 'the holy warrior,'" he continued as he captured her knight. Somehow she could tell he was smiling behind the mask. "'Oh, look at me. I'm protecting these people. Even the least of them is more valuable in my blah blah blah.' Come now, Fateweaver. You and I both know those two are inconsequential. Moreso even than the worst-positioned pawn on this board."
She captured his bishop with her own.
"They'll never amount to anything, not on their own," he said. "Sure, they can nudge events one way or the other. Maybe create something more important than they themselves are. But they're expendable. You can do with purpose and precision what they do fumbling in the darkness of fate. Why do you care for them so?"
"You have forgotten." She moved her pawn to position for an advance by her queen.
"There is much I have forgotten. Much I have relearned. That's not the point. You wouldn't die for them. I can see it in your eyes. You'd sacrifice them, if you had to. But you tell others that you do what you do for their sake. You're a hypocrite."
The woman on the picnic blanket stood, laughing, as the man stood to chase her. They ran by the players, and the woman reached out her hand, lightly brushing their wrists as they ran by. They did not seem to notice.
"You're a sentimental fool at the same time, though," the man said. "They're useless, but still you try to influence them. To improve an inconsequential pair of lives."
They moved several times more, each positioning for a strike. They found themselves in a deadlock. The couple chased one another around the tree, dodging the players by mere inches, weaving in and out between the board and the tree.
"So which is it? Utilitarianism or sentimentality? You'll sacrifice these few for the sake of the many. Let me have this world. You have my word I will trouble none others. There, you will win. This world is a small sacrifice in the scale of what I have wrought, what I can wreak in the future, even with you to resist me."
"You will have no more lives than those who must die to stop you."
"Bah. As if you could stop me. I could snuff out the lives of those two… with a thought."
Shadows grew around the man. The couple shivered, looking around. Their gazes passed through the players.
"Even you would not be able to save them," he said, his voice acquiring an unsettling monotone.
She moved quickly, knocking one of his knights over with her queen. The piece clattered across the board and fell to the grass.
"Brash. You know what your problem is? You're impulsive. You shouldn't have come here. I could kill you where you sit. Only my amusement holds me back from destroying you. Oh, you'd put up a fight, but in the end…"
He moved a bishop to capture her queen.
"Tsk."
He looked up. Her finger touched a rook that threatened his king without the bishop there to block it. And over her shoulder, there was someone leaning against a tree. Watching them.
"You little strumpet. You brought backup. I like you. Let's see this game through, shall we?"
He put his bishop back in its place and captured her second knight.
"You know, you're not unlike me. We both manipulate. We both sacrifice."
She took his rook.
"Only our goals differ," he continued. "Our methods are quite similar. Though you…"
He took her rook.
"You seem to enjoy sacrificing your more useful tools before they can see their true potential."
"It's not about potential," she said softly as she maneuvered a pawn. "It's about what's right."
The couple finally settled, flopping on the picnic blanket, laughter like the sweet song of a morning bird.
The man scoffed. "Come now, you're far too old to believe in that. All of the worlds you've seen. The ones you've ended. The ones you've started. There is no right or wrong. There is only power."
"And the one that has the most power determines what's right."
Anger crept into the man's voice. "Be silent. You know not of what you speak."
"I know very well," she said, her expression blank. "You know fear. And you fear wisely, though you hide it well."
He took her second rook. "Power is all that matters here. And you are nearly out of powerful pieces."
Behind her, the man watching them took on a desperate expression as he began to fade. He opened his mouth in a silent shout, then vanished. If she had noticed, she gave no indication.
They surveyed the board silently. She, with only her queen, her king, a knight and two pawns. He, with both rooks, a bishop and his king, though out of pawns. He was better positioned than she.
"This game is over, Fateweaver."
She moved her knight. "Check."
"Fool." He took her knight using his rook. "Check."
The couple nearby laughed again. She looked at them for a long moment.
"You're stalling. Make your move."
"Peace, devil. I will move when I am ready."
They were happy. It was written on their faces, on the fine lines and wrinkles around their eyes. The masked man was right, though. Their happiness was inconsequential, in the end. It was not unique. She recognized it because she had seen billions… trillions of people experience the same love. Many stronger than this. He was right. It was not special. They were not unique. Their love was as common as the grains of sand on the beach. It was in every way unremarkable to one who had lived as long as she had.
But it was sacred nonetheless.
She struck out with her queen, taking the threatening piece. It was the only option he had left her. He took it with his knight.
She moved a pawn to the final square. It morphed, the alabaster shaping itself into one of the rooks she had lost.
She sat back, with her hands folded in her lap. "The game is over."
The man sat staring for a moment, verifying her claim. It quickly became obvious. She had positioned her remaining pieces in such a way as to cut off his king's escape. And his other pieces were out of position from capturing hers.
"You know," he said, his voice acquiring that unsettling monotone again, "I never intended to let you claim your prize if you won. I'm not very good at following rules."
"I know," she said simply, regarding him with a blank expression.
"Then you'll die knowing that you beat me."
The shadows began to grow around him again, this time thickening into a cloying miasma. The branches that hung down near them began to wither. The grass blackened around him.
"I will," she said. "But not today."
The shadows vanished.
"What have you wrought, witch?"
"I'm not very good at following rules, either."
She lifted her hands from her lap. Minute threads appeared, running from her fingers to the couple on the grass. And from them, ran threads that encircled the cloaked man.
"You…" His voice dripped with hatred.
"No one is inconsequential. And that is why you have lost this game for the last time."
The man twitched against the threads, but they held him fast. He snarled.
The woman stood, suddenly looming over him despite her slight build.
"Checkmate."
| My friend was there that day. Of course, that was the whole point. His first move was his knight, as always. I moved my far right pawn, as always. We had played all the time before this day, over small issues. Today's stakes were much higher. We were playing for humanity.
He was tall, brown skinned, wore sweatpants and a light running shirt. Dressing casually for such an important event was just like him. I, on the other hand, wore a suit. Pinstriped, somewhere in between orange and yellow. We sat down at the park bench in between the dead tree and the meadow. Both silent, we began. I quickly gained the upper hand, taking his rook and bishop.
"Just like old times right?" He commented.
"Not quite"
"I'll miss this game"
"As will I"
"It has been a while. I would've thought you'd stop making that mistake" He said as he took my knight.
"I've turned it into something useful" I replied as I took the rook that offed my knight.
"Smart"
I nodded.
"It's amazing we've let them go this far alone, yes?"
"We should have helped"
"Which time?"
I sighed. "Exactly"
"You know it's important that they develop."
"We could have brought order, at least some of the times."
"Order is important, but also, how the order is brought"
I grunted, and moved a pawn.
"Friend, look over there, at the two humans."
"What about them?"
"They're bickering. They've been fighting ever since we started the game. If they broke off their relationship right now, it would bring order, no? But it would have horrible repercussions for the both of them. It's much better for them to finish their argument, and move on."
"I suppose."
"Check"
I grunted in acknowledgement, taking his queen and effectively leaving my state of check.
"And what if they argue and argue, make eachother feel like garbage, and break it off anyway?" I asked
"That's a possibility, yes"
"Then under those circumstances, it would have been easier to just break it off?"
"I suppose"
"Check." I said.
He moved.
"They've calmed down"
"I see that"
"So my way worked"
"In this case, yes"
"In most cases"
"Well, that's to be discovered at the end of this game now, isn't it?"
"It is, it is"
We played that game for three days. Three days, that couple came back to that park bench, and talked. They talked, bickered, kissed, fought, made up, until eventually...
"Checkmate"
|
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | "Check."
She grinned, and surveyed the board. I knew her next move. She did as well. But analyzing things is her nature. Cool, calculating, rational.
A delicate breeze ruffled her wavy white hair. It felt nice. Simple. Pleasant. I enjoyed taking on a human form; the sensations are unique. Exquisite. Not at all like existence in our realm.
She moved her knight into a defensive position. "Finally." I said, with feigned exasperation.
"Rushing headlong into situations is a recipe for disaster. It's a shame the humans never figured that out..."
"Oh, stop." I cut her off. The dance continues. In essence, neither of us has anything the other lacks. We just play different roles. It's all part of the grand design.
"You must admit, they've come close to figuring *us* out..." I began.
"Oh?" She remarked facetiously, "Enlighten me."
"The tao, shiva and shakti, the science of the right and left brain..."
"That is far from a science." She interjected.
"Well, it *is* rather artistic" I mused, gazing at a young couple on a nearby bench.
"And that is the heart of the issue," she continued, "They cannot reconcile..."
She isn't "evil", as the humans would say. Just rational. The experiment hasn't achieved its stated purpose, and likely won't. The humans do suffer, but not constantly. If they desire to continue, I say allow it. I let my attention focus more on the young couple nearby.
"...and we've discussed their deities exhaustively. Throughout the project, they have described facets of our realm. They then proceed to kill one another over minor discrepancies. Hardly grounds for a continuation..."
"Check." I say, cutting her off. She looks at the board. She blinks. Have I done it? Did I rattle her? She is pure rationality. My path to victory is irrationality. I must make moves that are so irrational she cannot predict them. Cannot process them. But she knows this. Maybe the blink was contrived. Maybe she is luring me in, like a moth to a flame.
She moves her king out of danger. Uncharacteristically quickly. No lengthy calculation of the board. Maybe she's trying to draw me into her web. Or maybe...
"Look at that couple." I bring the bench to her attention. It's time to make the final push. There isn't much riding on this game. It's just one universe. But I've grown fond of the humans. I think they have potential. "You remember that feeling, we lived several lifetimes as humans..."
"It's a chemical process. A part of the natural system. Their perception of it is intriguing, but nonetheless..."
Their perception, intriguing? She wouldn't cede the game outright, but maybe...
"Perception is a central tenet of this whole project." At this point, I'm just trying to keep her talking. Keep her attention on the young couple.
"Yes, but..." she continues. If my knight were one square to the left, I could win this game in three moves. I could slide it over while she's distracted. She remembers where it is, of course. She probably knows the position of every chess piece on every board in this park. But maybe...
"So you think we ought to discontinue the project entirely?"
"I feel that after weighing the net results of the last million years in this universe..."
Did she just say "I feel"?
Moving this piece while her back is turned is outside the rules of the game. If, and presumably when, she notices, she can disqualify me and declare the game over. Maybe that's what she's trying to do.
But maybe she learned something about irrationality from the humans. I actually can't tell. But she has a role, and so do I. I slide my piece to the side.
"...I understand your attachment to the humans, but this is my opinion." She concludes, still gazing at the couple.
"However," she continues, turning to lock her eyes with mine, "as agreed, the final decision will be made by the winner of this game."
She breaks her gaze to look at the board. I indulge myself in my human emotions, knowing this could be my last chance to do so. Anxiety. A tightness of the chest. A palpable tension. She looks back at me, a trace of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
"Your move." | My friend was there that day. Of course, that was the whole point. His first move was his knight, as always. I moved my far right pawn, as always. We had played all the time before this day, over small issues. Today's stakes were much higher. We were playing for humanity.
He was tall, brown skinned, wore sweatpants and a light running shirt. Dressing casually for such an important event was just like him. I, on the other hand, wore a suit. Pinstriped, somewhere in between orange and yellow. We sat down at the park bench in between the dead tree and the meadow. Both silent, we began. I quickly gained the upper hand, taking his rook and bishop.
"Just like old times right?" He commented.
"Not quite"
"I'll miss this game"
"As will I"
"It has been a while. I would've thought you'd stop making that mistake" He said as he took my knight.
"I've turned it into something useful" I replied as I took the rook that offed my knight.
"Smart"
I nodded.
"It's amazing we've let them go this far alone, yes?"
"We should have helped"
"Which time?"
I sighed. "Exactly"
"You know it's important that they develop."
"We could have brought order, at least some of the times."
"Order is important, but also, how the order is brought"
I grunted, and moved a pawn.
"Friend, look over there, at the two humans."
"What about them?"
"They're bickering. They've been fighting ever since we started the game. If they broke off their relationship right now, it would bring order, no? But it would have horrible repercussions for the both of them. It's much better for them to finish their argument, and move on."
"I suppose."
"Check"
I grunted in acknowledgement, taking his queen and effectively leaving my state of check.
"And what if they argue and argue, make eachother feel like garbage, and break it off anyway?" I asked
"That's a possibility, yes"
"Then under those circumstances, it would have been easier to just break it off?"
"I suppose"
"Check." I said.
He moved.
"They've calmed down"
"I see that"
"So my way worked"
"In this case, yes"
"In most cases"
"Well, that's to be discovered at the end of this game now, isn't it?"
"It is, it is"
We played that game for three days. Three days, that couple came back to that park bench, and talked. They talked, bickered, kissed, fought, made up, until eventually...
"Checkmate"
|
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | My friend was there that day. Of course, that was the whole point. His first move was his knight, as always. I moved my far right pawn, as always. We had played all the time before this day, over small issues. Today's stakes were much higher. We were playing for humanity.
He was tall, brown skinned, wore sweatpants and a light running shirt. Dressing casually for such an important event was just like him. I, on the other hand, wore a suit. Pinstriped, somewhere in between orange and yellow. We sat down at the park bench in between the dead tree and the meadow. Both silent, we began. I quickly gained the upper hand, taking his rook and bishop.
"Just like old times right?" He commented.
"Not quite"
"I'll miss this game"
"As will I"
"It has been a while. I would've thought you'd stop making that mistake" He said as he took my knight.
"I've turned it into something useful" I replied as I took the rook that offed my knight.
"Smart"
I nodded.
"It's amazing we've let them go this far alone, yes?"
"We should have helped"
"Which time?"
I sighed. "Exactly"
"You know it's important that they develop."
"We could have brought order, at least some of the times."
"Order is important, but also, how the order is brought"
I grunted, and moved a pawn.
"Friend, look over there, at the two humans."
"What about them?"
"They're bickering. They've been fighting ever since we started the game. If they broke off their relationship right now, it would bring order, no? But it would have horrible repercussions for the both of them. It's much better for them to finish their argument, and move on."
"I suppose."
"Check"
I grunted in acknowledgement, taking his queen and effectively leaving my state of check.
"And what if they argue and argue, make eachother feel like garbage, and break it off anyway?" I asked
"That's a possibility, yes"
"Then under those circumstances, it would have been easier to just break it off?"
"I suppose"
"Check." I said.
He moved.
"They've calmed down"
"I see that"
"So my way worked"
"In this case, yes"
"In most cases"
"Well, that's to be discovered at the end of this game now, isn't it?"
"It is, it is"
We played that game for three days. Three days, that couple came back to that park bench, and talked. They talked, bickered, kissed, fought, made up, until eventually...
"Checkmate"
|
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | It's really long... and I don't know how good it is. But here's my shot.
***
A figure sat alone at the chess board under a mighty oak. Swathed in concealing black robes too hot for the summer day, his face entirely obscured by a smooth, round, red and white ceramic mask devoid of any features. The couple picnicking nearby did not seem to notice the anomaly. If they had seen him, they'd likely have died on the spot. Could they not sense the dread emanating from him? Or were they too absorbed with one another to notice the psychic miasma that hung around him? Perhaps they simply lacked the requisite sense.
She appeared at the edge of the park, walking toward the table. Blond hair, whimsical, brightly colored clothing. She took a seat across from the masked man. The couple again took no notice.
"I'm surprised you came," the man said as he withdrew a box and began to place black pieces from it onto the board.
"You shouldn't be," she replied as she began to set her own pieces on the board.
"I admit it may seem… unorthodox. Perhaps a bit cliché. But in a way, I've raised the stakes, here. If you win, you won't just save them… you'll save everyone else in my future. And if I win, I won't just win this world, but I'll be rid of your incessant hounding."
The game was set. She took the first move and sat back, arms folded.
The man chuckled behind his impenetrable mask. "What, no conversation? That's half the pleasure to this thing."
"I'm not here for pleasure. I'm here to end this."
He sighed and moved a pawn into the center of the board. An aggressive move. "You take the joy out of it."
"There is no joy in this." She captured the piece.
He snapped forward, capturing her pawn with a well-placed bishop. She cringed. She'd made a rash move, and they both knew it. He'd gotten her unhinged. Her face assumed a calm demeanor, betraying no more than his mask. She made another move. More conservative, this time.
The couple to her left laughed at something one of them had said. She glanced over at them. He followed her gaze.
"Oh, don't be like that." He positioned his knight.
She moved her bishop defensively.
"You're supposed to say 'Like what?'" He maneuvered a pawn to threaten one of hers.
She defended with her knight, capturing the pawn.
"My response, of course, is 'the holy warrior,'" he continued as he captured her knight. Somehow she could tell he was smiling behind the mask. "'Oh, look at me. I'm protecting these people. Even the least of them is more valuable in my blah blah blah.' Come now, Fateweaver. You and I both know those two are inconsequential. Moreso even than the worst-positioned pawn on this board."
She captured his bishop with her own.
"They'll never amount to anything, not on their own," he said. "Sure, they can nudge events one way or the other. Maybe create something more important than they themselves are. But they're expendable. You can do with purpose and precision what they do fumbling in the darkness of fate. Why do you care for them so?"
"You have forgotten." She moved her pawn to position for an advance by her queen.
"There is much I have forgotten. Much I have relearned. That's not the point. You wouldn't die for them. I can see it in your eyes. You'd sacrifice them, if you had to. But you tell others that you do what you do for their sake. You're a hypocrite."
The woman on the picnic blanket stood, laughing, as the man stood to chase her. They ran by the players, and the woman reached out her hand, lightly brushing their wrists as they ran by. They did not seem to notice.
"You're a sentimental fool at the same time, though," the man said. "They're useless, but still you try to influence them. To improve an inconsequential pair of lives."
They moved several times more, each positioning for a strike. They found themselves in a deadlock. The couple chased one another around the tree, dodging the players by mere inches, weaving in and out between the board and the tree.
"So which is it? Utilitarianism or sentimentality? You'll sacrifice these few for the sake of the many. Let me have this world. You have my word I will trouble none others. There, you will win. This world is a small sacrifice in the scale of what I have wrought, what I can wreak in the future, even with you to resist me."
"You will have no more lives than those who must die to stop you."
"Bah. As if you could stop me. I could snuff out the lives of those two… with a thought."
Shadows grew around the man. The couple shivered, looking around. Their gazes passed through the players.
"Even you would not be able to save them," he said, his voice acquiring an unsettling monotone.
She moved quickly, knocking one of his knights over with her queen. The piece clattered across the board and fell to the grass.
"Brash. You know what your problem is? You're impulsive. You shouldn't have come here. I could kill you where you sit. Only my amusement holds me back from destroying you. Oh, you'd put up a fight, but in the end…"
He moved a bishop to capture her queen.
"Tsk."
He looked up. Her finger touched a rook that threatened his king without the bishop there to block it. And over her shoulder, there was someone leaning against a tree. Watching them.
"You little strumpet. You brought backup. I like you. Let's see this game through, shall we?"
He put his bishop back in its place and captured her second knight.
"You know, you're not unlike me. We both manipulate. We both sacrifice."
She took his rook.
"Only our goals differ," he continued. "Our methods are quite similar. Though you…"
He took her rook.
"You seem to enjoy sacrificing your more useful tools before they can see their true potential."
"It's not about potential," she said softly as she maneuvered a pawn. "It's about what's right."
The couple finally settled, flopping on the picnic blanket, laughter like the sweet song of a morning bird.
The man scoffed. "Come now, you're far too old to believe in that. All of the worlds you've seen. The ones you've ended. The ones you've started. There is no right or wrong. There is only power."
"And the one that has the most power determines what's right."
Anger crept into the man's voice. "Be silent. You know not of what you speak."
"I know very well," she said, her expression blank. "You know fear. And you fear wisely, though you hide it well."
He took her second rook. "Power is all that matters here. And you are nearly out of powerful pieces."
Behind her, the man watching them took on a desperate expression as he began to fade. He opened his mouth in a silent shout, then vanished. If she had noticed, she gave no indication.
They surveyed the board silently. She, with only her queen, her king, a knight and two pawns. He, with both rooks, a bishop and his king, though out of pawns. He was better positioned than she.
"This game is over, Fateweaver."
She moved her knight. "Check."
"Fool." He took her knight using his rook. "Check."
The couple nearby laughed again. She looked at them for a long moment.
"You're stalling. Make your move."
"Peace, devil. I will move when I am ready."
They were happy. It was written on their faces, on the fine lines and wrinkles around their eyes. The masked man was right, though. Their happiness was inconsequential, in the end. It was not unique. She recognized it because she had seen billions… trillions of people experience the same love. Many stronger than this. He was right. It was not special. They were not unique. Their love was as common as the grains of sand on the beach. It was in every way unremarkable to one who had lived as long as she had.
But it was sacred nonetheless.
She struck out with her queen, taking the threatening piece. It was the only option he had left her. He took it with his knight.
She moved a pawn to the final square. It morphed, the alabaster shaping itself into one of the rooks she had lost.
She sat back, with her hands folded in her lap. "The game is over."
The man sat staring for a moment, verifying her claim. It quickly became obvious. She had positioned her remaining pieces in such a way as to cut off his king's escape. And his other pieces were out of position from capturing hers.
"You know," he said, his voice acquiring that unsettling monotone again, "I never intended to let you claim your prize if you won. I'm not very good at following rules."
"I know," she said simply, regarding him with a blank expression.
"Then you'll die knowing that you beat me."
The shadows began to grow around him again, this time thickening into a cloying miasma. The branches that hung down near them began to wither. The grass blackened around him.
"I will," she said. "But not today."
The shadows vanished.
"What have you wrought, witch?"
"I'm not very good at following rules, either."
She lifted her hands from her lap. Minute threads appeared, running from her fingers to the couple on the grass. And from them, ran threads that encircled the cloaked man.
"You…" His voice dripped with hatred.
"No one is inconsequential. And that is why you have lost this game for the last time."
The man twitched against the threads, but they held him fast. He snarled.
The woman stood, suddenly looming over him despite her slight build.
"Checkmate."
| Wow! Didn't expect this prompt to take off and get such good responses. Thanks for the likes, everyone! |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | "Check."
She grinned, and surveyed the board. I knew her next move. She did as well. But analyzing things is her nature. Cool, calculating, rational.
A delicate breeze ruffled her wavy white hair. It felt nice. Simple. Pleasant. I enjoyed taking on a human form; the sensations are unique. Exquisite. Not at all like existence in our realm.
She moved her knight into a defensive position. "Finally." I said, with feigned exasperation.
"Rushing headlong into situations is a recipe for disaster. It's a shame the humans never figured that out..."
"Oh, stop." I cut her off. The dance continues. In essence, neither of us has anything the other lacks. We just play different roles. It's all part of the grand design.
"You must admit, they've come close to figuring *us* out..." I began.
"Oh?" She remarked facetiously, "Enlighten me."
"The tao, shiva and shakti, the science of the right and left brain..."
"That is far from a science." She interjected.
"Well, it *is* rather artistic" I mused, gazing at a young couple on a nearby bench.
"And that is the heart of the issue," she continued, "They cannot reconcile..."
She isn't "evil", as the humans would say. Just rational. The experiment hasn't achieved its stated purpose, and likely won't. The humans do suffer, but not constantly. If they desire to continue, I say allow it. I let my attention focus more on the young couple nearby.
"...and we've discussed their deities exhaustively. Throughout the project, they have described facets of our realm. They then proceed to kill one another over minor discrepancies. Hardly grounds for a continuation..."
"Check." I say, cutting her off. She looks at the board. She blinks. Have I done it? Did I rattle her? She is pure rationality. My path to victory is irrationality. I must make moves that are so irrational she cannot predict them. Cannot process them. But she knows this. Maybe the blink was contrived. Maybe she is luring me in, like a moth to a flame.
She moves her king out of danger. Uncharacteristically quickly. No lengthy calculation of the board. Maybe she's trying to draw me into her web. Or maybe...
"Look at that couple." I bring the bench to her attention. It's time to make the final push. There isn't much riding on this game. It's just one universe. But I've grown fond of the humans. I think they have potential. "You remember that feeling, we lived several lifetimes as humans..."
"It's a chemical process. A part of the natural system. Their perception of it is intriguing, but nonetheless..."
Their perception, intriguing? She wouldn't cede the game outright, but maybe...
"Perception is a central tenet of this whole project." At this point, I'm just trying to keep her talking. Keep her attention on the young couple.
"Yes, but..." she continues. If my knight were one square to the left, I could win this game in three moves. I could slide it over while she's distracted. She remembers where it is, of course. She probably knows the position of every chess piece on every board in this park. But maybe...
"So you think we ought to discontinue the project entirely?"
"I feel that after weighing the net results of the last million years in this universe..."
Did she just say "I feel"?
Moving this piece while her back is turned is outside the rules of the game. If, and presumably when, she notices, she can disqualify me and declare the game over. Maybe that's what she's trying to do.
But maybe she learned something about irrationality from the humans. I actually can't tell. But she has a role, and so do I. I slide my piece to the side.
"...I understand your attachment to the humans, but this is my opinion." She concludes, still gazing at the couple.
"However," she continues, turning to lock her eyes with mine, "as agreed, the final decision will be made by the winner of this game."
She breaks her gaze to look at the board. I indulge myself in my human emotions, knowing this could be my last chance to do so. Anxiety. A tightness of the chest. A palpable tension. She looks back at me, a trace of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
"Your move." | Wow! Didn't expect this prompt to take off and get such good responses. Thanks for the likes, everyone! |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | Wow! Didn't expect this prompt to take off and get such good responses. Thanks for the likes, everyone! |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | It's really long... and I don't know how good it is. But here's my shot.
***
A figure sat alone at the chess board under a mighty oak. Swathed in concealing black robes too hot for the summer day, his face entirely obscured by a smooth, round, red and white ceramic mask devoid of any features. The couple picnicking nearby did not seem to notice the anomaly. If they had seen him, they'd likely have died on the spot. Could they not sense the dread emanating from him? Or were they too absorbed with one another to notice the psychic miasma that hung around him? Perhaps they simply lacked the requisite sense.
She appeared at the edge of the park, walking toward the table. Blond hair, whimsical, brightly colored clothing. She took a seat across from the masked man. The couple again took no notice.
"I'm surprised you came," the man said as he withdrew a box and began to place black pieces from it onto the board.
"You shouldn't be," she replied as she began to set her own pieces on the board.
"I admit it may seem… unorthodox. Perhaps a bit cliché. But in a way, I've raised the stakes, here. If you win, you won't just save them… you'll save everyone else in my future. And if I win, I won't just win this world, but I'll be rid of your incessant hounding."
The game was set. She took the first move and sat back, arms folded.
The man chuckled behind his impenetrable mask. "What, no conversation? That's half the pleasure to this thing."
"I'm not here for pleasure. I'm here to end this."
He sighed and moved a pawn into the center of the board. An aggressive move. "You take the joy out of it."
"There is no joy in this." She captured the piece.
He snapped forward, capturing her pawn with a well-placed bishop. She cringed. She'd made a rash move, and they both knew it. He'd gotten her unhinged. Her face assumed a calm demeanor, betraying no more than his mask. She made another move. More conservative, this time.
The couple to her left laughed at something one of them had said. She glanced over at them. He followed her gaze.
"Oh, don't be like that." He positioned his knight.
She moved her bishop defensively.
"You're supposed to say 'Like what?'" He maneuvered a pawn to threaten one of hers.
She defended with her knight, capturing the pawn.
"My response, of course, is 'the holy warrior,'" he continued as he captured her knight. Somehow she could tell he was smiling behind the mask. "'Oh, look at me. I'm protecting these people. Even the least of them is more valuable in my blah blah blah.' Come now, Fateweaver. You and I both know those two are inconsequential. Moreso even than the worst-positioned pawn on this board."
She captured his bishop with her own.
"They'll never amount to anything, not on their own," he said. "Sure, they can nudge events one way or the other. Maybe create something more important than they themselves are. But they're expendable. You can do with purpose and precision what they do fumbling in the darkness of fate. Why do you care for them so?"
"You have forgotten." She moved her pawn to position for an advance by her queen.
"There is much I have forgotten. Much I have relearned. That's not the point. You wouldn't die for them. I can see it in your eyes. You'd sacrifice them, if you had to. But you tell others that you do what you do for their sake. You're a hypocrite."
The woman on the picnic blanket stood, laughing, as the man stood to chase her. They ran by the players, and the woman reached out her hand, lightly brushing their wrists as they ran by. They did not seem to notice.
"You're a sentimental fool at the same time, though," the man said. "They're useless, but still you try to influence them. To improve an inconsequential pair of lives."
They moved several times more, each positioning for a strike. They found themselves in a deadlock. The couple chased one another around the tree, dodging the players by mere inches, weaving in and out between the board and the tree.
"So which is it? Utilitarianism or sentimentality? You'll sacrifice these few for the sake of the many. Let me have this world. You have my word I will trouble none others. There, you will win. This world is a small sacrifice in the scale of what I have wrought, what I can wreak in the future, even with you to resist me."
"You will have no more lives than those who must die to stop you."
"Bah. As if you could stop me. I could snuff out the lives of those two… with a thought."
Shadows grew around the man. The couple shivered, looking around. Their gazes passed through the players.
"Even you would not be able to save them," he said, his voice acquiring an unsettling monotone.
She moved quickly, knocking one of his knights over with her queen. The piece clattered across the board and fell to the grass.
"Brash. You know what your problem is? You're impulsive. You shouldn't have come here. I could kill you where you sit. Only my amusement holds me back from destroying you. Oh, you'd put up a fight, but in the end…"
He moved a bishop to capture her queen.
"Tsk."
He looked up. Her finger touched a rook that threatened his king without the bishop there to block it. And over her shoulder, there was someone leaning against a tree. Watching them.
"You little strumpet. You brought backup. I like you. Let's see this game through, shall we?"
He put his bishop back in its place and captured her second knight.
"You know, you're not unlike me. We both manipulate. We both sacrifice."
She took his rook.
"Only our goals differ," he continued. "Our methods are quite similar. Though you…"
He took her rook.
"You seem to enjoy sacrificing your more useful tools before they can see their true potential."
"It's not about potential," she said softly as she maneuvered a pawn. "It's about what's right."
The couple finally settled, flopping on the picnic blanket, laughter like the sweet song of a morning bird.
The man scoffed. "Come now, you're far too old to believe in that. All of the worlds you've seen. The ones you've ended. The ones you've started. There is no right or wrong. There is only power."
"And the one that has the most power determines what's right."
Anger crept into the man's voice. "Be silent. You know not of what you speak."
"I know very well," she said, her expression blank. "You know fear. And you fear wisely, though you hide it well."
He took her second rook. "Power is all that matters here. And you are nearly out of powerful pieces."
Behind her, the man watching them took on a desperate expression as he began to fade. He opened his mouth in a silent shout, then vanished. If she had noticed, she gave no indication.
They surveyed the board silently. She, with only her queen, her king, a knight and two pawns. He, with both rooks, a bishop and his king, though out of pawns. He was better positioned than she.
"This game is over, Fateweaver."
She moved her knight. "Check."
"Fool." He took her knight using his rook. "Check."
The couple nearby laughed again. She looked at them for a long moment.
"You're stalling. Make your move."
"Peace, devil. I will move when I am ready."
They were happy. It was written on their faces, on the fine lines and wrinkles around their eyes. The masked man was right, though. Their happiness was inconsequential, in the end. It was not unique. She recognized it because she had seen billions… trillions of people experience the same love. Many stronger than this. He was right. It was not special. They were not unique. Their love was as common as the grains of sand on the beach. It was in every way unremarkable to one who had lived as long as she had.
But it was sacred nonetheless.
She struck out with her queen, taking the threatening piece. It was the only option he had left her. He took it with his knight.
She moved a pawn to the final square. It morphed, the alabaster shaping itself into one of the rooks she had lost.
She sat back, with her hands folded in her lap. "The game is over."
The man sat staring for a moment, verifying her claim. It quickly became obvious. She had positioned her remaining pieces in such a way as to cut off his king's escape. And his other pieces were out of position from capturing hers.
"You know," he said, his voice acquiring that unsettling monotone again, "I never intended to let you claim your prize if you won. I'm not very good at following rules."
"I know," she said simply, regarding him with a blank expression.
"Then you'll die knowing that you beat me."
The shadows began to grow around him again, this time thickening into a cloying miasma. The branches that hung down near them began to wither. The grass blackened around him.
"I will," she said. "But not today."
The shadows vanished.
"What have you wrought, witch?"
"I'm not very good at following rules, either."
She lifted her hands from her lap. Minute threads appeared, running from her fingers to the couple on the grass. And from them, ran threads that encircled the cloaked man.
"You…" His voice dripped with hatred.
"No one is inconsequential. And that is why you have lost this game for the last time."
The man twitched against the threads, but they held him fast. He snarled.
The woman stood, suddenly looming over him despite her slight build.
"Checkmate."
|
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | "Check."
She grinned, and surveyed the board. I knew her next move. She did as well. But analyzing things is her nature. Cool, calculating, rational.
A delicate breeze ruffled her wavy white hair. It felt nice. Simple. Pleasant. I enjoyed taking on a human form; the sensations are unique. Exquisite. Not at all like existence in our realm.
She moved her knight into a defensive position. "Finally." I said, with feigned exasperation.
"Rushing headlong into situations is a recipe for disaster. It's a shame the humans never figured that out..."
"Oh, stop." I cut her off. The dance continues. In essence, neither of us has anything the other lacks. We just play different roles. It's all part of the grand design.
"You must admit, they've come close to figuring *us* out..." I began.
"Oh?" She remarked facetiously, "Enlighten me."
"The tao, shiva and shakti, the science of the right and left brain..."
"That is far from a science." She interjected.
"Well, it *is* rather artistic" I mused, gazing at a young couple on a nearby bench.
"And that is the heart of the issue," she continued, "They cannot reconcile..."
She isn't "evil", as the humans would say. Just rational. The experiment hasn't achieved its stated purpose, and likely won't. The humans do suffer, but not constantly. If they desire to continue, I say allow it. I let my attention focus more on the young couple nearby.
"...and we've discussed their deities exhaustively. Throughout the project, they have described facets of our realm. They then proceed to kill one another over minor discrepancies. Hardly grounds for a continuation..."
"Check." I say, cutting her off. She looks at the board. She blinks. Have I done it? Did I rattle her? She is pure rationality. My path to victory is irrationality. I must make moves that are so irrational she cannot predict them. Cannot process them. But she knows this. Maybe the blink was contrived. Maybe she is luring me in, like a moth to a flame.
She moves her king out of danger. Uncharacteristically quickly. No lengthy calculation of the board. Maybe she's trying to draw me into her web. Or maybe...
"Look at that couple." I bring the bench to her attention. It's time to make the final push. There isn't much riding on this game. It's just one universe. But I've grown fond of the humans. I think they have potential. "You remember that feeling, we lived several lifetimes as humans..."
"It's a chemical process. A part of the natural system. Their perception of it is intriguing, but nonetheless..."
Their perception, intriguing? She wouldn't cede the game outright, but maybe...
"Perception is a central tenet of this whole project." At this point, I'm just trying to keep her talking. Keep her attention on the young couple.
"Yes, but..." she continues. If my knight were one square to the left, I could win this game in three moves. I could slide it over while she's distracted. She remembers where it is, of course. She probably knows the position of every chess piece on every board in this park. But maybe...
"So you think we ought to discontinue the project entirely?"
"I feel that after weighing the net results of the last million years in this universe..."
Did she just say "I feel"?
Moving this piece while her back is turned is outside the rules of the game. If, and presumably when, she notices, she can disqualify me and declare the game over. Maybe that's what she's trying to do.
But maybe she learned something about irrationality from the humans. I actually can't tell. But she has a role, and so do I. I slide my piece to the side.
"...I understand your attachment to the humans, but this is my opinion." She concludes, still gazing at the couple.
"However," she continues, turning to lock her eyes with mine, "as agreed, the final decision will be made by the winner of this game."
She breaks her gaze to look at the board. I indulge myself in my human emotions, knowing this could be my last chance to do so. Anxiety. A tightness of the chest. A palpable tension. She looks back at me, a trace of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
"Your move." |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | "Excuse, me, can we get back to business?"
"Are you *seeing* this?"
"What?"
"Them. Over there. No! Don't turn around!"
"I don't have eyes in the back of my head, you know."
"The hell you don't."
"Ha. True. What about them?"
"Is he trying to get his *entire* tongue in her mouth? It's disgusting."
"That's what they do. It's entirely sloppy and disgusting. I think it's cute."
"Ugh. And their genitalia. My Me, that shit is gross."
"Look. We had specifications. We had to work from the blueprints."
"I don't trust Head Office to know their heads from their asses. Or those things' asses."
"Yes, yes. We've been down this road before. And the free will thing. That still a thorn in your perfect side?'
"Look, I'm just saying maintenance would have been easier, my way. And we wouldn't be at this crossroad now, would we?"
"I suppose not. Still your turn.'
"Don't rush me! We agreed to the time limitations before the last hundred sets were played, and you're always whining about the rules after *you* agreed."
"Okay, okay. Forgive me."
"That's not my job, and you know it. And stop smiling like that."
"Like what?"
"You know exactly what I'm...HA! You didn't see it, did you?"
"What?"
"THIS! Mate in four. What now, bitch?"
"Shit. Yup. Entirely yours."
"That's right. What is it now?"
That makes twenty nine me, twenty six you."
"This set is mine. You're through. I have you now."
"You said that last set."
"Shut up. Oh, dear Me. He's rubbing her genitals through her jeans. Ugh."
"Love is love, no matter what. You know that."
"Shut up and reset." | "Checkmate"
The old man smiled and stood up, shaking hands with his opponent "Good game friend, same time next year?" He spoke just as the words finished leaving his mouth the room was filled with then cheers and cries of relief and happiness directed at the small low definition tube TV in the corner which showed two equally old men in suits stepping down from their podiums and walking off screen.
"No my old friend, I think it is finally time I admit defeat, you've beaten me in every game we've played since we began, and I must give you my congratulations, I cannot out think you, and you have defeated me" the other man stood up, gave a respectful how and paced off.
The first of these two mysterious men chuckled softly and began to clean up his board and his pieces as the room of eager and happy faces cheered around him, as he packed his things into his small burlap sack, he peered at the TV himself and gave a small cheerful grin to himself.
**BREAKING NEWS: BERLIN WALL HAS FALLEN**
EDIT: I just realized I used 'Himself' twice in the same sentence and I have brought great dishonor to myself. |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | "Checkmate"
The old man smiled and stood up, shaking hands with his opponent "Good game friend, same time next year?" He spoke just as the words finished leaving his mouth the room was filled with then cheers and cries of relief and happiness directed at the small low definition tube TV in the corner which showed two equally old men in suits stepping down from their podiums and walking off screen.
"No my old friend, I think it is finally time I admit defeat, you've beaten me in every game we've played since we began, and I must give you my congratulations, I cannot out think you, and you have defeated me" the other man stood up, gave a respectful how and paced off.
The first of these two mysterious men chuckled softly and began to clean up his board and his pieces as the room of eager and happy faces cheered around him, as he packed his things into his small burlap sack, he peered at the TV himself and gave a small cheerful grin to himself.
**BREAKING NEWS: BERLIN WALL HAS FALLEN**
EDIT: I just realized I used 'Himself' twice in the same sentence and I have brought great dishonor to myself. |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | "Excuse, me, can we get back to business?"
"Are you *seeing* this?"
"What?"
"Them. Over there. No! Don't turn around!"
"I don't have eyes in the back of my head, you know."
"The hell you don't."
"Ha. True. What about them?"
"Is he trying to get his *entire* tongue in her mouth? It's disgusting."
"That's what they do. It's entirely sloppy and disgusting. I think it's cute."
"Ugh. And their genitalia. My Me, that shit is gross."
"Look. We had specifications. We had to work from the blueprints."
"I don't trust Head Office to know their heads from their asses. Or those things' asses."
"Yes, yes. We've been down this road before. And the free will thing. That still a thorn in your perfect side?'
"Look, I'm just saying maintenance would have been easier, my way. And we wouldn't be at this crossroad now, would we?"
"I suppose not. Still your turn.'
"Don't rush me! We agreed to the time limitations before the last hundred sets were played, and you're always whining about the rules after *you* agreed."
"Okay, okay. Forgive me."
"That's not my job, and you know it. And stop smiling like that."
"Like what?"
"You know exactly what I'm...HA! You didn't see it, did you?"
"What?"
"THIS! Mate in four. What now, bitch?"
"Shit. Yup. Entirely yours."
"That's right. What is it now?"
That makes twenty nine me, twenty six you."
"This set is mine. You're through. I have you now."
"You said that last set."
"Shut up. Oh, dear Me. He's rubbing her genitals through her jeans. Ugh."
"Love is love, no matter what. You know that."
"Shut up and reset." |
|
[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | The sun was high above the park, illuminating the gorgeous greens of spring trees and blues of freshly bloomed flowers, whose aromas drifted along the twisted, rocky path. They tantalized a man, whose body was old, yet obviously strong. He wore a threadbare shirt, and well used jeans. All that gave away his ancient age were the wrinkles on his face and hands, the thin white hair that hung off his head like strings from a sweater, and his eyes.
These were the eyes of one who had seen so much that every book ever written, every story ever told was a mere fraction of his knowledge. Eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of cities, civilizations, even entire species. But in this moment, only the warmth and smells mattered. For that moment, he was just a man who had lived far past his time, enjoying the fauna. Slowly, a rare slight smile, spread across his face.
His respite was not long lived. From the near sky-rise where black clouds of the coming storm had gathered, a low, deep growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful oasis of green, reminding the white-haired man of the importance of his afternoon stroll. His pace quickened as his smile was immediately replaced by the stern frown that had etched those wrinkles into him all those eons ago.
He approached the designated place. It was in a small culvert of the park, along a path rarely walked. Sitting there was an ancient wooden bench stained by the elements and time, supported by cracked granite and sitting underneath a freshly bloomed cherry blossom. On the right side of this bench stood an unsettling looking gentleman. His body was tall and thin, highlighted by a new black suit that had far too much slack. His fingers were long, bony extremities that resembled talons. His face was what made him a disturbing sight. The skin was stretched to tight across the skeletal structure of his jaw, his eyes slightly shrunken into his head, but still the gaze was as sharp and deadly as daggers. Hair flowed down his shoulders that had been pitch black for so many millennium, but was now fading to grey on the tips.
The opponents stared at each other, recognizing the significance of not only what they were about to do, but also that they were the last, the only ones left to decide. After a moment, they sat on opposite sides, and prepared. Out came the board, a gift from ruler long forgotten. Its border made of rich mahogany, and inside, sixty four perfect squares. Thirty two were pure white, made of pearls, while the others were of deep black onyx. On this checkered battlefield, the armies were assembled. Sixteen footmen stared across the field at each other, knowing their probable fate. As the queens directed the other twelve veterans into position, the kings stood their places, staring across the front lines, into the soul of the enemy.
As troop movements ended, there was a long silence, the calm before the deadly storm. Then, the first white soldier stepped forwards, beginning the conflict to end all conflicts. Over the next few hours, these old men strategized and manipulated, using tactics never seen or imagined, yet never a word was said. Between them sat their joint history, so much death, so much loss. Every piece merely trying to make a difference before being taken.
Voices could be heard down the path, and both men paused the game to turn and see a young couple stroll into the isolated area. They did not notice the old men, their attentions turned fully to the conversation at hand, as they sat on the bench opposite.
The white haired man turned back to the game, lazily restarting the endless battle. "Samantha and Christopher," the first words stated by the white haired man in years. His voice still as strong as a gale wind. "they are to be married soon."
The man in black offered a slight chuckle, whose presence made the air tangibly colder. "They call themselves Sam and Chris, apparently real names are too long for their limited intelligence."
"They do seem so in love."
The black man barely tilted his head in their direction. "It is of no consequence."
The man in white paused his soldiers mid-defensive maneuver. "Do you not see the greatness of what has been created here? What they have turned into?"
The man in black considered the board, seeing the impending counter attack. He then turned towards the pair. "Chris' father, an abusive drunk who killed the whore mother, and Sam ran away from a psychotic grandmother, their greatness is truly lost on me."
The battlefield remained stagnant, the soldiers frozen as though insects caught in tree sap. "Yet they found each other, beyond all the odds and all the evil acts."
After a pause, the battle resumes. Both men lost in thought, though no longer about wars and consequences. "And even with all that love, he is still seeing another woman. Even now, he is thinking about her. They are selfish species. So much time they have been given, so many chances to fix their mistakes. And yet all they have mastered is how to kill one another, how to destroy all the gifts they have been given. They do not deserve our love, nor our mercy. They need a fresh start to learn from the mistakes of the past."
The conversation is interrupted by a high pitch screech followed by a series of giggles and a hearty laugh echoed between the trees, originating from the opposite bench. The men turn, staring at the entwined lovers, at the wonder encompassed in that small moment.
"See how they look at each other? Do you hear what is between them? No where else in all of creation can you find such passion. With all the mistakes they have made, it is their beauty and intensity that has truly been mastered. Even now they strive to prefect everything they find, beyond any plans we made or could have made. It is not our right to strip them of the chance to right themselves."
The man in black turned, staring into the age-old eyes of his brother. "Even with all we have seen, with all they have done and could do?"
The man in white continued staring at the other bench. "If anyone deserves a second chance," he nods at the couple, "they do."
A soldier is absent-mindedly moved forwards. The clunk of his final step on the long, bloody journey complete. While neither man had thought about the consequences, they subconsciously perceived the event that had just occurred.
They both looked down, and saw it, the final checkmate.
The white king bowed his head for the final time, before falling to the onyx floor. The following silence was the twin to the sound just before the beginning of life, where they all sat staring at the lump of celestial components that would be come life in the universe. The omega to that ancient and forgotten alpha.
The man in black was the first to stand. There was no gloating in his eyes, no satisfaction, only duty. He glanced at Sam and Chris, still cuddled in an embrace, as if it would protect them from what was to come. The look lasted only a moment, before he spun quickly, throwing his dark trench coat over his shoulders to protect his thin stature from the rapidly rising winds. He walked out of the small culvert, down the untrodden path and disappeared into the growing shadows of the trees.
Still the man in white sat there, staring at the treasured board, shivering in the cold breeze. His joints creaked as he slowly stood, and turned one last time towards Sam and Chris. Their smiles were so radiant, so full of life, so full of ignorance for what had been decided. They were smiles that would haunt him forever. As the man in white turned towards the lonely path, the first drop came from above. It landed on the stony-faced white king, slowly sliding down his cheek like a tear. | One would believe that the development of a multiverse is akin to mitosis, multiplying constantly and encouraging growth. That is wrong. The reality of the situation is that all of the multiverse simply *was* at the beginning, and has always been in a state of deterioration. If you had to make a metaphor, compare the multiverse to a brain and then each individual universe to a neuron flickering away. Slowly yet definitely, the multiverse will at one point be gone forever.
Other fun facts: one universe consists of one planet. You cannot argue this unless you’ve met another conscious species from another planet. Consciousness is crucial in the management of a planet. Opposed, ethereal forces will seize upon specific universes and pass judgment upon them. One force is sustained by the existence of the multiverse and fights to preserve it. The other force feeds off of the dead matter of lost worlds. The forces cannot fight each other directly, thus they manifest themselves into competitions of skill.
On one planet, the overly dramatic forces staged and fought a hundred year war. Millions died at first, then as the population withered away the spectacle became an embarrassment. The preservers conceded to the feeders to put the whole ordeal behind them. After that moment, the forces presented themselves in microcosms of competition. A game of pong. An arm wrestling match. Rock paper scissors. A race to the porch and back. If the feeders won, the universe was obliterated. It became a quick, entertaining procedure for both sides.
The fate of one particular world rested on a preserver wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants drinking soda out of a two-liter bottle and a feeder wearing a vest over a turtleneck in seventy degree weather. He sweated profusely as he set up a chessboard.
“I prefer checkers,” the preserver said as he reached into his grocery bag and pulled out a bagel.
The feeder looked over to his ancient rival, “We agreed upon chess. If I had it my way, we would be deciding matters over a game of tennis.” The preserver laughed, picking at his food, “I’m not running back and forth in this weather. You can eat this world and twenty more like if I had to play sports.”
The feeder sighed and sat across the preserver, “Let’s not talk. Your appearance and demeanor is repugnant.” The manifestations of the opposed forces has become its own psychological game; the preserver and feeder distract one another with averse depictions; the preservers grow uglier to the distaste of the feeder, and the feeder becomes more vain to throw the preserver off tilt.
The game began. After the preserver’s first move, the feeder studied the board. In their ancient feud spanning across a vast amount of time and space, the preservers and feeders never invested too much time into learning one particular game well. The world’s best chess player can probably outplay any player from the multiverse; ironically, a chess grandmaster can think fifty moves ahead of their opponent, yet could not begin to comprehend the true form of a preserver or feeder without their brain pouring out of their nose.
The feeder moved his pawn and began to observe the other chess players at the park and the rest of the world’s inhabitants. There was a college nearby, so many co-eds were bouncing all over the place catching frisbees. Dogs ran rampant after other dogs with sticks in their mouths. Children clung to monkeybars, kicking at the void under their undeveloped legs. The feeder did not have to justify his actions to the preserver, but he did appreciate the world’s he would feast on. Many were exactly the same, and the feeder could watch the duplicate of the same child grow big and strong while the feeder day after day ate his worlds one after another.
The preserver moved a piece. Then the feeder went. The preserver burped. The feeder sipped on a ten dollar bottle of water that he retrieved from his messenger bag. The two stared at each other in resentment as the battle raged.
The preserver saw an opportunity for a possible checkmate. As he moved his piece, a kickball hit the table, sending the chess pieces across the floor. The preserver and feeder stared at the board and one another as they fought to remember what the protocol was for a disrupted game. A young woman with dark, tight brown curls wearing a shirt and shorts attractively too tight on her flashed the two men a quick, unapologetic frown. “I’m sorry! I have terrible aim.” The feeder and preserver saw that two teams were waiting impatiently for the girl to retrieve the ball so their own game could resume.
The feeder began to put the pieces back on the table, unaware exactly which piece went where to continue: “It’s okay. Just a game, after all.” The girl smiled, took her ball back and mouthed *sorry* to the men before she left. Both men watched her return to her friends before they turned on each other.
“I should have won,” the preserver testified.
“Nonsense. You just believed you were winning,” the feeder retorted. They smiled at each other, understanding that the game was a draw by default, yet the conflict must resolve.
“Chess is boring. What else can we play?”
“We could gamble on the kickball game.”
They turned their attention to the undergrads whom played with a severity that only rears itself through recreational sports. The teams battered each other with the red rubber ball. The players ran at the bases hard. Feeder asked the brunette who was winning. She thought for a moment and then had to ask someone else. “I think we are, but we aren’t really keeping score.”
The two men sat in the grass, drinking soda and water, watching young adults play a children’s game. The fate of the universe, pulled in one way by the voracious maw of the feeder and the other by the firm grasp of the preserver, rested upon which of these athletes approached them first and told them who won.
|
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[WP] Two god-like beings, disguised as old men, play a game of chess on a park bench to decide the final fate of humanity. The players, however, are distracted by a couple seated across them... | "Table stakes again?" the thin man asked. He wore black, and the lines time had etched into his face were harsh.
"Not this time, I think," the shorter man said. He wore white, a business suit so pristine that it almost hurt to look at. The thin man cocked an eyebrow.
"The last game, then?" he asked. The man in white considered for a moment, then nodded. Without another word, the two set up the chessboard which lie between them. It was concrete, and set into the table they shared, so grimy that even despite the bright midsummer light of a New York day, the city's grime had rendered both the white and black spaces a nigh-indistinguishable grey. Still, the two set their pieces, each drawing polished marble figures from a case of his own possession. The man in white played black, and the man in black played white. White king's knight to f3.
"Conservative," the man in white said.
"This is the game that matters," the man in black said. Black pawn to d5. Behind the white man, a couple sashayed by--two men, holding hands. The younger of the two was also shorter, Puerto Rican, and wore a fishnet tank top. His jeans could've been sprayed on. The man in black blinked. It would be hard to imagine a more stereotypically flamboyant fellow. The Puerto Rican man led his partner, an older black man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a charcoal business suit, to the table next to the two playing chess. The two kissed, the young fellow sitting on a concrete table identical to theirs.
"Interesting company," the man in black said. White pawn to c4. The man in white looked over slowly, rheumy eyes thoughtful.
"Réti Opening," he said, slowly returning his gaze to the board. The man in black shrugged. Black pawn to e6. "It's surprising, in a way, to be playing this game, finally."
"All the world, hanging on a game of chess," the thin man said, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice, of savor. "All that ever was, all that is, and all that ever might be, decided by the movements of clicking marble and alabaster. One of us rises, and the other done away with forever. An eternity surrendered and true omnipotence gained." Yes, real enjoyment now. Anticipation. Hunger. White pawn to g3.
"Wait, what?" the black man broke away from his amorous partner. He looked at the two old men, one in white and one in black, but he didn't break his lover's embrace.
"Nothing you need to fret over," the man in white said. Black King's knight to f6. He waved a hand, half-distracted, and the black man started to turn back to the loving arms of his partner, but he hesitated.
"No... There was something you said..." he muttered, forehead creased in intense concentration, almost as if he'd just forgotten something truly important.
"We're playing Neo-Catalan today," the man in black said, and smiled. "It favors white, you know." White pawn to d4. The man in white shrugged.
"You two are playing for something important," the black man said, and broke away from his partner.
"David," the Puerto Rican man whined, but he followed his partner's gaze.
"I said--" the man in white said, again raising his hand.
"Let them be. It won't matter if I win, and you can erase their memories if you win," the tall man interrupted, and smiled. He turned to the two. "I am playing this man for the fate of all the world." The Puerto Rican man laughed out loud, but the black man, David, remained stone-faced.
"You're the devil," he said, and when he said it there was a moment of perfect quiet, the thunder of the city and the park stilling for just that one instant. The tall man smiled, but said nothing. Black pawn to a6. David turned a bit. "And you're God."
"Not as you imagine," the man in white said, glancing up. "Though I prefer Yahweh. The old names are nice."
"David, they're having fun with you," the Puerto Rican man said, taking his partner's hand. David didn't move. White Queen's bishop to f4.
"You're off your game today," the tall man said. "Not good." Yahweh shrugged ever-so-slightly. Black queen to e7.
"Can't you beat him?" David asked, alarm growing in his eyes.
"Probably," Yahweh said. "But those aren't the rules we play by." The man in black snorted in derision.
"Remarkable," he said. "You heap abuse on them, and they still grovel for you." David glanced over, and Yahweh cocked his head to the side.
"Oh?"
"Such hate for men who lie with men. Stone them. Burn them. Hang them," the tall man said, sneering.
"It's not that simple, Lucifer. It never is," Yahweh said. Lucifer shook his head. White pawn to a3. Lucifer turned to David.
"Are you a man of God?" he asked. David drew in a breath of surprise, and glanced at Yahweh.
"I like to think so," he said, cautious.
"And you are a man who lies with men. A gay man." It was a statement. David nodded. Lucifer gestured across the table at Yahweh. "His books say you should die. Horribly. How can you be both?"
"I..." David faltered. "I don't know. I just am."
"You call that free will?" Lucifer asked.
"I do," Yahweh said. Lucifer shook his head. Yahweh turned to David.
"Are you happy?" he asked. David blinked.
"I... I don't know," he said, and both Lucifer and Yahweh paused. "I'm kind of scared right now, to be honest."
"Aside from that," Yahweh said. "Your life. Is it good?" David considered.
"Sometimes," he said. "Not all the time. It's complicated."
"You see?" Yahweh asked. Lucifer shook his head and sighed.
"This claptrap again," Black pawn to h5, an obvious error. White pawn to b4, swiftly, securing the center.
"Why is it complicated?" Yahweh asked, seemingly unperturbed at the state of the board.
"Well, I love two people. Alex," David said, and squeezed his partner's hand, "and my wife, Marissa." Lucifer laughed.
"Adultery as well!" he said. Yahweh didn't speak.
"They both make me happy," David continued, gaining steam. "And I- I can't be with either one alone." He bowed his head. "I wish I could be honest with her, though."
"Thank you," Yahweh said, a small smile warming their corner of the park. "You would do it differently?" he asked, turning back to the board. Black king's rook to H6.
"Of course I would," Lucifer said. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"
"How?" Yahweh asked, and Lucifer froze.
"You've never asked me that before," he said after a long moment.
"I'm asking you now." Lucifer thought.
"No love would be wrong," he said, and looked at David. "They're not hurting anyone. Why should they be punished?"
"What about Marissa?" Yahweh asked. Lucifer didn't say anything. After a time, Yahweh asked, "What else?"
"Freedom," Lucifer said, and the word was a whisper. "Real freedom. No commandments from on high, no walls of faith or law, nor condemnation of the righteous as punishment. Men and women could do as they pleased." Yahweh looked surprised.
"You don't think they have that?"
"They never have," Lucifer said, and shook his head very slowly. "You created the most magnificent of all things, beings who could truly decide their own fate with only the dictates of existence itself to restrain them. No spiritual obligations, and yet minds as keen as the greatest of the Seraphim. Mankind was perfect in every way, and the first thing," Lucifer broke off and chucked for a moment. "The very first thing you do is wall them in." He laughed again, loudly and long. David threw an arm around Alex, and drew the smaller man close.
"No," he said, with a sigh of savor. "I would see what they can really do. Whether they could surpass even you in the fullness of time. I would see what comes from real freedom." White queen to a4. "Check." Yahweh leaned back and regarded Lucifer.
"Is it really that simple for you?" he asked, after a time. Lucifer nodded. "Well, then, I suppose that I've been playing defensively for long enough today."
And, slowly, Yahweh tipped his own king over. David gasped, and Lucifer's face screwed into a mask of confusion.
"I don't claim that the rules I chose were right," Yahweh said, his fingertips fading. "Only that they were the rules I chose. I hoped to help my children grow a little taller by their existence."
"You didn't need to do that," Lucifer muttered, eyes still fixed on the fallen black marble king.
"Of course I did," Yahweh said, and Lucifer finally met his gaze. "They weren't the only ones I gave free will to." His rheumy eyes twinkled for a moment, and then began to fade. "Your rebellion was my greatest triumph. I could barely believe it when you rose up." Lucifer's breath turned ragged.
"They're yours now, in a way." There was a silence, as the last traces of Yahweh faded away. Then, like a scarcely-heard voice on the breeze, he added, "Not so simple, is it?"
Nobody said anything, for a while.
"What happens now?" David asked, meeting Lucifer's gaze.
"I don't know," he said eventually. "It's complicated."
Edit: Thanks for all the comments, folks, and thanks to /u/read_know_do for pointing out where my inexperience at real chess messed up the game. Hopefully, it's fixed now. | My brother sat opposite to me, the lines on his face crinkling in concentration. His balding head shone in the sun, adding shadows to his wrinkling face and tired look. Placing my hat beside me on the wooden bench, taking care to brush off a leaf on my shoulder from the tree above, I glance over the chess board: his Knight waiting to take my Pawn, yet stopped by my equally menacing Bishop. All the pieces were like this, all the moves were blockaded by another. No piece safe until it rest beside the opposition, and even then, it had been defeated.
He smirked, moving his Knight backwards, preparing for an attack he hoped I could not see. I focused on the board, carefully observing every game token. Chess was not like checkers, you could not casually jump over your opponent no matter how much you wish you could. I could not see what my brother was planning, but still crinkled my eyes in amusement, then shot my Queen back four spaces; leaving it resting beside his Knight.
"Check." He said, sliding his Bishop towards my King, yet out of reach from any immediate harm. "Brother," he continued, "it's a shame you haven't quite mastered Chess. Especially when the fate of Earth, as the humans say, 'is in your hands'."
His eyes glimmered for a mere second, showing the wise, yet youthful God inside. Glamoured as humans, we took the fate of humanity were it lived, Earth. Neither of us were evil, nor were we good. We merely had differences that none could compromise on. I lived with the humans for the past fifty years. Learning, loving, and healing my own soul. Things that couldn't be learned as a God.
I place my own Knight in front of my King, protecting it for the time being. It was defended by another piece, so if he chose to take it, he would lose his Bishop. I look at my brother, who was staring at the two humans opposite to us.
"Disgusting, aren't they?" He asked me, finally looking down and deciding his own move, while I continued watching them.
The two were clearly lovers, pushed together by attraction and connection. My brother had not felt love because he never tried to love. The closeness to another, the pain when they're away. Two heartbeats, two bodies, one mind. It was something no potion or magik could create because it simply was. I felt it, for him, my "other half". My human heart beating, breath quickening, a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt right when I was with him, when we kissed, talked, loved, hated. Everything was right because it was love. The unthinkable, illogical, feeling of love. The couple in the park reminded me of him. Of us.
"There's so many things you can learn about humanity, and they can teach you even more..." I replied softly, blinking away a tear, then picking up my Queen and taking out his Knight. I watched as it dawned on him. My Queen was blocking in his King, which was surrounded by his own pieces. It was his own death.
"Humans aren't as bad as you think, brother." I said to him gently, then added with a grin, "Checkmate."
***
Sorry for any tense mistakes. |
|
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | [WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine. | "OH NO!" screamed the demon hellspawn Sheila.
"What?" asked Petunia the Wrencher of Souls
"You will not believe what just came down from the pneumatic tube." said Sheila
"What what what what I'm getting my nails done so I can't touch it but let me see." said Petunia.
"Sloth is no longer one of the seven deadly sins."
"WWHHHHHAAAAATT".
"It's true it comes from the devil himself, with that cute ass he knows we are watching, sloth is now no longer a deadly sin. Apparently Satan was tired of lashing the men all day who were slothful because they didn't really groan much. It was too much to groan for them. They just kind of laid there and took it."
"Oh...but Satan loves it when people groan."
"I know. And that is where we find ourselves. Satan wants some groaners and sloths ain't doing it for him."
"So what is replacing sloth?"
"Masturbation."
"Masturbation is the new deadly sin?"
"Yep"
"Isn't that too close to lust?"
"I don't know it is considered a venial sin before so they are upping it to major deadly sin."
"Ugh. We are gonna have to do a lot of work over the weekend. We can't have people saying that sloth was once one of the seven deadly sins now."
"How are you gonna get rid of it?"
"I don't know I'll make an animal out of it or something to explain all the references to it. Like a real slow animal."
"That'll work." | <malthorp looks down into cup. makes disgusted face>
"guess they downsized the blood machine too. this really is hell darfob"
"oh tell me about it. just today i overheard the torture caverns are getting a transfer. some manager from cults."
"cults? probably because they've been the bottleneck. like it takes years just to come up with a good enough story to get some suckers to kill themselves and take a few with them."
"i know right? i mean, what have you done lately besides jonestown?"
"well, they invested in all that anti-vaccination agenda stuff, but we'll see. i don't think people are THAT stupid. am i right? hahaha"
"yea, i miss the old days. we could just show up, rip them to shreds while they're screaming, and then get back home and have a few cold ones."
"yep, but now we've got stuff like this"
<looks over leaflet. looks up at other demon. rolls eyes. looks down. starts reading.>
"know ye the following: income pressures are leading us to best practices for a paradigm shift to synergize with key stakeholders. furthermore we need all hands on deck to reach out to these stakeholders and..."
<trails off. eyes roll back in head. smoke and fire emerges from mouth, nose, and eyes>
"satan bless you"
<sniffles>
"oh thanks. happens every time i start in on one of those. works wonders in the torture caverns, but when you've got work to do, you know it starts getting old after the first 10,000 words. have they ever said anything?"
"no, you know how it is. it's supposed to get you in the mood to want evil after reading that much corporate jargon."
"yea i know, i just..."
<suddenly there's a blood-curdling scream. stops. then another just like it. then stops. then another. malthorp looks down at his iphone>
"oh i gotta take this. let's do lunch"
|
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | [WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine. | "Hey there [Decarabia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decarabia#Marquis_Decarabia)."
"Oh there you are [Forneus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forneus). Where have you been?
"I've been hearing the news. Things haven't been going too smoothly with that one 'paranormal' girl. There's been a massive mess of paperwork over whether or not being possessed and killing people is technically a sin when it wasn't her choice. The Pearly Gates have been going for a Purgatory examination, but our grand lord Lucy's been going all out for the full trip to Hell."
"I bet the Department of Judgement's been having a fit."
"The Ministry of Possession's been drowning in paperwork too. There's been a giant mess over whether the possession was authorized. They have all the paperwork besides the Form 666S, and most of it has authorization."
"But of course we just *had* to decide that setting up a bureaucracy was a mortal sin. Now we're just the *picture* of efficiency. I remember the good old days when we'd go and seize lepers, but now we can't even possess a little girl without a mountain of forms and signatures."
"Well... I mean... this is Hell."
"Either way, I just miss being able to kill a few humans and eat their souls every now and then. Has the boss heard about all this?"
"Yeah. Of course personifying the sin of wrath doesn't do wonders for your ability to take things in stride, but you could tell he was steamed. Of course, he was asked to fill out an Anger Permission Request, which just pissed him off more."
"That reminds me, do you have the forms for authorization to have conversation?"
"Dammit! Now we're gonna be buried in paperwork!"
"Wait! Just saying the word 'paperwork' requires you to fill out a form! Dammit, I just said it!"
"I know this is hell, but this is just ridiculous."
"Maybe you should fill out a Sense of Disgruntlement Form."
"Shut it Decarabia." | "So the kid sets fire to orphanage, then he miscalculated his own strength."
"So what? I still don't see.."
"There is more Jason, he ends up there due to a technicality."
"No way, the kid set fire to the entire orphanage, there is no way he was going to heaven!"
"Oh yeah. Peter was going to let him in, but fire was technically his fault so he committed 'suicide'.."
"Bullshit Jerry, Peter is not THAT senile."
"The kid repented, had his wings attached and everything, he was about to get his halo when someone pointed the technicality out"
"So who gets the little shit?"
"Not us either, we had to send him to purgatory."
"WHY?! For Hell's sake the kid technically committed suicide, that's and unforgivable one, and well there is the WHOLE orphanage burned down deal."
"Oh the story is not done."
"There is more?!"
"Yeah listen to this, Lu hears about this fuck up, decides to do a little resurrection."
"Nine Hell's I've not witnessed one in... Who was the last one The guy funny with the funny mustache?"
"No, no Good old H. is working in PR, you are thinking of Castro."
"Well shit, damn it I missed a good one Jerry."
"Tell you what, when the kid dies again, I will call you up on it."
"Hopefully Peter admits him in, can you imagine that?!"
"That's probably why good old Lu send him back to the living." |
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | [WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine. | It wasn't that Hel didn't like her job. After the merger with Lucifer, both pantheons were fairly convinced they'd come out on top. After all, Lucifer got the mass of souls from the ancient dead of the North Countries, and Hel managed to keep herself relevant, a damn sight better than anything most of her kin had managed. Freyja was selling her tears of red gold to those start up "WILL BUY GOLD" shops to keep herself in style, and Skadi worked at a ski resort somewhere in Norway.
And so, at least Hel was still doing what she'd always been meant to do. She accepted the title of demon, Second Tier, and mostly kept her head low and worked hard.
"It's not that I'm bitching--even though I had a realm of souls, I was getting what--one, two, a year? So it made sense."
"Right, I get that," Hades nodded. "Used to be thousands a day."
"Well, not *thousands*. The population back then just wasn't where it is now. But enough. And I was feared, and people respected me. I had shrines."
"Oh, me too. Loads," Hades agreed. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got this one girl to eat some pomegranate seeds?"
"Every day, Hades."
"Well, it was pretty clever."
"*Loki* is clever. That was cute."
"Last I heard, he's working as a sales call guy, so," Hades trailed off. "Actually, that's pretty vile."
Hel nodded. "But-- I'm okay with my decision. But I *cannot believe* they promoted Pazuzu to First Tier Demon ahead of me. Did you hear he's in charge of torturing now? I mean--that guy was old news when we were proper gods!"
Hades' face grew stormy. "Got his name picked randomly out of a hat by *one* Hollywood writer, and suddenly he's big man on campus. Art covers, in books-- I heard that before that, he was the janitor for the blood rooms!"
"Janitor to First Tier. It's ridiculous."
"It's rude, is what it is," Hades scowled. "Have you met the demon? He's not even fun to be around. All he does is talk about "Oh, I started this famine" or "My locust plagues really screwed things up. It was really boss." I mean--please. That was like, ten million years ago. Who cares? And then he acts like he's better than the rest of us because he's got a lion head and some wings."
"Oh, *right*? Have you *read* the Norse mythologies? I can't wait for Ragnarok--I'm not putting up with this bullshit anymore."
"Ah," Hades started carefully. "I'm pretty sure Ragnarok has been tabled."
"Oh, don't get off on that again. This Christian thing is a fad. I'll be in vogue again soon enough, and then I'll show Lucifer where he can shove it. Second Tier demon? *Second Tier*?" She raged. "I'll have him scrubbing down Nidhug, and we'll see who's Second Tier then."
"Shh," Hades looked around furtively. "Just last week I heard one of the Chaldean guys got sacked for saying his hell had proper torture, and Lucifer's paled in comparison."
"Lucifer," Hel informed Hades archly, "Is nothing more than a start-up with major daddy issues. We signed our merger as equals, so if he thinks he can sack me, he has another think coming."
Hades nodded sagely. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the blaring whistle signaling the end of lunch hour. "Oh, that's my cue. They're draconian over in the mail room. Show up just a little late and--"
Hel waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure," Hades agreed as he headed out. "There's some juicy gossip about one of the Tzitzimimeh from over in HR. Miquiztiltecuhtli was telling me about it."
"I don't even know why you hang out with those Aztec guys."
Hades shrugged. "They've got a pretty good sense of humor, for the most part. Decent outlook on life--death, as it were, too. Anyway--see you later!"
Hel settled back behind her desk and pulled the top paper in front of her. In *her* day, warriors never got sent anywhere but Valhalla, regardless of how they'd conducted themselves while alive. She couldn't care less about Lucifer's rules of acceptance, and as long as she was in charge of filing, the final call was up to her.
So it made little difference to her that the man was a rapist, and that he'd killed civilians.
She pushed her REJECTED stamp onto his paper, and put him in the out processing file. She'd let Peter sort it out. That guy was an asshole, anyway. | "So the kid sets fire to orphanage, then he miscalculated his own strength."
"So what? I still don't see.."
"There is more Jason, he ends up there due to a technicality."
"No way, the kid set fire to the entire orphanage, there is no way he was going to heaven!"
"Oh yeah. Peter was going to let him in, but fire was technically his fault so he committed 'suicide'.."
"Bullshit Jerry, Peter is not THAT senile."
"The kid repented, had his wings attached and everything, he was about to get his halo when someone pointed the technicality out"
"So who gets the little shit?"
"Not us either, we had to send him to purgatory."
"WHY?! For Hell's sake the kid technically committed suicide, that's and unforgivable one, and well there is the WHOLE orphanage burned down deal."
"Oh the story is not done."
"There is more?!"
"Yeah listen to this, Lu hears about this fuck up, decides to do a little resurrection."
"Nine Hell's I've not witnessed one in... Who was the last one The guy funny with the funny mustache?"
"No, no Good old H. is working in PR, you are thinking of Castro."
"Well shit, damn it I missed a good one Jerry."
"Tell you what, when the kid dies again, I will call you up on it."
"Hopefully Peter admits him in, can you imagine that?!"
"That's probably why good old Lu send him back to the living." |
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | [WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine. | "Hey there [Decarabia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decarabia#Marquis_Decarabia)."
"Oh there you are [Forneus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forneus). Where have you been?
"I've been hearing the news. Things haven't been going too smoothly with that one 'paranormal' girl. There's been a massive mess of paperwork over whether or not being possessed and killing people is technically a sin when it wasn't her choice. The Pearly Gates have been going for a Purgatory examination, but our grand lord Lucy's been going all out for the full trip to Hell."
"I bet the Department of Judgement's been having a fit."
"The Ministry of Possession's been drowning in paperwork too. There's been a giant mess over whether the possession was authorized. They have all the paperwork besides the Form 666S, and most of it has authorization."
"But of course we just *had* to decide that setting up a bureaucracy was a mortal sin. Now we're just the *picture* of efficiency. I remember the good old days when we'd go and seize lepers, but now we can't even possess a little girl without a mountain of forms and signatures."
"Well... I mean... this is Hell."
"Either way, I just miss being able to kill a few humans and eat their souls every now and then. Has the boss heard about all this?"
"Yeah. Of course personifying the sin of wrath doesn't do wonders for your ability to take things in stride, but you could tell he was steamed. Of course, he was asked to fill out an Anger Permission Request, which just pissed him off more."
"That reminds me, do you have the forms for authorization to have conversation?"
"Dammit! Now we're gonna be buried in paperwork!"
"Wait! Just saying the word 'paperwork' requires you to fill out a form! Dammit, I just said it!"
"I know this is hell, but this is just ridiculous."
"Maybe you should fill out a Sense of Disgruntlement Form."
"Shut it Decarabia." | "Does this taste like piss to you?"
"No?"
"Well it's supposed to Steve. It's supposed to." |
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | [WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine. | It wasn't that Hel didn't like her job. After the merger with Lucifer, both pantheons were fairly convinced they'd come out on top. After all, Lucifer got the mass of souls from the ancient dead of the North Countries, and Hel managed to keep herself relevant, a damn sight better than anything most of her kin had managed. Freyja was selling her tears of red gold to those start up "WILL BUY GOLD" shops to keep herself in style, and Skadi worked at a ski resort somewhere in Norway.
And so, at least Hel was still doing what she'd always been meant to do. She accepted the title of demon, Second Tier, and mostly kept her head low and worked hard.
"It's not that I'm bitching--even though I had a realm of souls, I was getting what--one, two, a year? So it made sense."
"Right, I get that," Hades nodded. "Used to be thousands a day."
"Well, not *thousands*. The population back then just wasn't where it is now. But enough. And I was feared, and people respected me. I had shrines."
"Oh, me too. Loads," Hades agreed. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got this one girl to eat some pomegranate seeds?"
"Every day, Hades."
"Well, it was pretty clever."
"*Loki* is clever. That was cute."
"Last I heard, he's working as a sales call guy, so," Hades trailed off. "Actually, that's pretty vile."
Hel nodded. "But-- I'm okay with my decision. But I *cannot believe* they promoted Pazuzu to First Tier Demon ahead of me. Did you hear he's in charge of torturing now? I mean--that guy was old news when we were proper gods!"
Hades' face grew stormy. "Got his name picked randomly out of a hat by *one* Hollywood writer, and suddenly he's big man on campus. Art covers, in books-- I heard that before that, he was the janitor for the blood rooms!"
"Janitor to First Tier. It's ridiculous."
"It's rude, is what it is," Hades scowled. "Have you met the demon? He's not even fun to be around. All he does is talk about "Oh, I started this famine" or "My locust plagues really screwed things up. It was really boss." I mean--please. That was like, ten million years ago. Who cares? And then he acts like he's better than the rest of us because he's got a lion head and some wings."
"Oh, *right*? Have you *read* the Norse mythologies? I can't wait for Ragnarok--I'm not putting up with this bullshit anymore."
"Ah," Hades started carefully. "I'm pretty sure Ragnarok has been tabled."
"Oh, don't get off on that again. This Christian thing is a fad. I'll be in vogue again soon enough, and then I'll show Lucifer where he can shove it. Second Tier demon? *Second Tier*?" She raged. "I'll have him scrubbing down Nidhug, and we'll see who's Second Tier then."
"Shh," Hades looked around furtively. "Just last week I heard one of the Chaldean guys got sacked for saying his hell had proper torture, and Lucifer's paled in comparison."
"Lucifer," Hel informed Hades archly, "Is nothing more than a start-up with major daddy issues. We signed our merger as equals, so if he thinks he can sack me, he has another think coming."
Hades nodded sagely. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the blaring whistle signaling the end of lunch hour. "Oh, that's my cue. They're draconian over in the mail room. Show up just a little late and--"
Hel waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure," Hades agreed as he headed out. "There's some juicy gossip about one of the Tzitzimimeh from over in HR. Miquiztiltecuhtli was telling me about it."
"I don't even know why you hang out with those Aztec guys."
Hades shrugged. "They've got a pretty good sense of humor, for the most part. Decent outlook on life--death, as it were, too. Anyway--see you later!"
Hel settled back behind her desk and pulled the top paper in front of her. In *her* day, warriors never got sent anywhere but Valhalla, regardless of how they'd conducted themselves while alive. She couldn't care less about Lucifer's rules of acceptance, and as long as she was in charge of filing, the final call was up to her.
So it made little difference to her that the man was a rapist, and that he'd killed civilians.
She pushed her REJECTED stamp onto his paper, and put him in the out processing file. She'd let Peter sort it out. That guy was an asshole, anyway. | "Does this taste like piss to you?"
"No?"
"Well it's supposed to Steve. It's supposed to." |
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | [WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine. | It wasn't that Hel didn't like her job. After the merger with Lucifer, both pantheons were fairly convinced they'd come out on top. After all, Lucifer got the mass of souls from the ancient dead of the North Countries, and Hel managed to keep herself relevant, a damn sight better than anything most of her kin had managed. Freyja was selling her tears of red gold to those start up "WILL BUY GOLD" shops to keep herself in style, and Skadi worked at a ski resort somewhere in Norway.
And so, at least Hel was still doing what she'd always been meant to do. She accepted the title of demon, Second Tier, and mostly kept her head low and worked hard.
"It's not that I'm bitching--even though I had a realm of souls, I was getting what--one, two, a year? So it made sense."
"Right, I get that," Hades nodded. "Used to be thousands a day."
"Well, not *thousands*. The population back then just wasn't where it is now. But enough. And I was feared, and people respected me. I had shrines."
"Oh, me too. Loads," Hades agreed. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got this one girl to eat some pomegranate seeds?"
"Every day, Hades."
"Well, it was pretty clever."
"*Loki* is clever. That was cute."
"Last I heard, he's working as a sales call guy, so," Hades trailed off. "Actually, that's pretty vile."
Hel nodded. "But-- I'm okay with my decision. But I *cannot believe* they promoted Pazuzu to First Tier Demon ahead of me. Did you hear he's in charge of torturing now? I mean--that guy was old news when we were proper gods!"
Hades' face grew stormy. "Got his name picked randomly out of a hat by *one* Hollywood writer, and suddenly he's big man on campus. Art covers, in books-- I heard that before that, he was the janitor for the blood rooms!"
"Janitor to First Tier. It's ridiculous."
"It's rude, is what it is," Hades scowled. "Have you met the demon? He's not even fun to be around. All he does is talk about "Oh, I started this famine" or "My locust plagues really screwed things up. It was really boss." I mean--please. That was like, ten million years ago. Who cares? And then he acts like he's better than the rest of us because he's got a lion head and some wings."
"Oh, *right*? Have you *read* the Norse mythologies? I can't wait for Ragnarok--I'm not putting up with this bullshit anymore."
"Ah," Hades started carefully. "I'm pretty sure Ragnarok has been tabled."
"Oh, don't get off on that again. This Christian thing is a fad. I'll be in vogue again soon enough, and then I'll show Lucifer where he can shove it. Second Tier demon? *Second Tier*?" She raged. "I'll have him scrubbing down Nidhug, and we'll see who's Second Tier then."
"Shh," Hades looked around furtively. "Just last week I heard one of the Chaldean guys got sacked for saying his hell had proper torture, and Lucifer's paled in comparison."
"Lucifer," Hel informed Hades archly, "Is nothing more than a start-up with major daddy issues. We signed our merger as equals, so if he thinks he can sack me, he has another think coming."
Hades nodded sagely. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the blaring whistle signaling the end of lunch hour. "Oh, that's my cue. They're draconian over in the mail room. Show up just a little late and--"
Hel waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure," Hades agreed as he headed out. "There's some juicy gossip about one of the Tzitzimimeh from over in HR. Miquiztiltecuhtli was telling me about it."
"I don't even know why you hang out with those Aztec guys."
Hades shrugged. "They've got a pretty good sense of humor, for the most part. Decent outlook on life--death, as it were, too. Anyway--see you later!"
Hel settled back behind her desk and pulled the top paper in front of her. In *her* day, warriors never got sent anywhere but Valhalla, regardless of how they'd conducted themselves while alive. She couldn't care less about Lucifer's rules of acceptance, and as long as she was in charge of filing, the final call was up to her.
So it made little difference to her that the man was a rapist, and that he'd killed civilians.
She pushed her REJECTED stamp onto his paper, and put him in the out processing file. She'd let Peter sort it out. That guy was an asshole, anyway. | "Hey there [Decarabia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decarabia#Marquis_Decarabia)."
"Oh there you are [Forneus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forneus). Where have you been?
"I've been hearing the news. Things haven't been going too smoothly with that one 'paranormal' girl. There's been a massive mess of paperwork over whether or not being possessed and killing people is technically a sin when it wasn't her choice. The Pearly Gates have been going for a Purgatory examination, but our grand lord Lucy's been going all out for the full trip to Hell."
"I bet the Department of Judgement's been having a fit."
"The Ministry of Possession's been drowning in paperwork too. There's been a giant mess over whether the possession was authorized. They have all the paperwork besides the Form 666S, and most of it has authorization."
"But of course we just *had* to decide that setting up a bureaucracy was a mortal sin. Now we're just the *picture* of efficiency. I remember the good old days when we'd go and seize lepers, but now we can't even possess a little girl without a mountain of forms and signatures."
"Well... I mean... this is Hell."
"Either way, I just miss being able to kill a few humans and eat their souls every now and then. Has the boss heard about all this?"
"Yeah. Of course personifying the sin of wrath doesn't do wonders for your ability to take things in stride, but you could tell he was steamed. Of course, he was asked to fill out an Anger Permission Request, which just pissed him off more."
"That reminds me, do you have the forms for authorization to have conversation?"
"Dammit! Now we're gonna be buried in paperwork!"
"Wait! Just saying the word 'paperwork' requires you to fill out a form! Dammit, I just said it!"
"I know this is hell, but this is just ridiculous."
"Maybe you should fill out a Sense of Disgruntlement Form."
"Shut it Decarabia." |
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed. | [WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine. | "And now comes my favorite time of the day. Performance reviews. Zachifondizebub, do you know why you get to go last today?"
"Because you save the best for last, your Malevolence."
"Very good. Now why do you suppose I didn't pick Quarithion?"
"Because Hitler's not really that bad?"
"NOT THAT BAD? He tried to exterminate You Know Who's favourites. If he makes it through purgatory we're facing a fucking flood. You ever see a fucking flood? If we're really lucky he might pick two of each demon to survive to make a new hell. But He'll likely just cast down some new angels and make a complete wash. But still, he's number two today. Tell me, what was your assignment."
" Go to Earth, start a new religion."
"Was this a particularly hard job, Zachifondizebub?"
" You don't know what they're like up there now! They want evidence! And, and fulfilment! And tolerance and empathy!"
"They always wanted that. Birmithaille was able to succeed by giving a convicted con artist golden tablets only he could see! Who did you pick for a prophet?"
"An award wining author. I wanted a holy book that would stand up as a good story and have internal consistency."
"Good. Then what."
"I gave him a nightmare about airplanes."
"Yes, yes the DC10s, go on."
"And told him a dark lord had imprisoned souls on earth as a punishment for being naughty aliens."
"Odd, but I've heard worse. Then what."
"Then he kinda ^figured ^out ^how ^to ^detect ^souls."
"He made a machine to measure **souls!** Do you have any idea the damage you did? Lucifer took centuries to convince You Know Who that belief based on faith is better than belief based on evidence."
"I know! But how was I to expect he'd go from aliens getting nuked in volcanoes to-"
"I spend a MILLENNIUM burying fossils! Do you have any idea how hard it is to make sure you don't get a single stratum out of order? One fuck up and the entire field of biology gets thrown out the window. Do you want a billion atheists to realize 'You Know Who did it' is the correct answer?"
"I've had fossil duty too, but-"
"You have no idea what fossil duty is! You're gonna be carving precambrian fossils on every mite of coal dust in Pennsylvania for this if you don't figure out a way to nip the Scientology in the bud in the next 10 seconds."
"Tom Cruise?"
"Zachifondizebub... That just might work." | "So you hear about Fred Phelps?"
"I know he was slated for the Fifth Circle, but beyond that I haven't heard anything."
"That's because he never came in."
"What? You're shitting me."
"I shit you not. I guess there was some mix-up in the soul archives, and he ended up getting transported to Purgatory. The big wigs have tried putting several requests in to get him transferred to where he was originally supposed to go, but you know how Purgatory is. Lost the paperwork or something, so now he's being held indefinitely with the righteous unbelievers."
"Unbelievable. The bureaucracy in this place is-"
"Is what?"
"Well... you know." |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | "**How long have you been a part of us? A few hundred years? A thousand? You are young, naive, you know much less than what you've observed.**" Somewhere in the darkness a voice like the gentle light of a single candle called out. Silence, followed by a second voice.
"*I know enough, Aeternus. I know that this happening is as much an infant to you as it is to-*"
"**Nothing is infant in my mind. Every notion I've ever had is ancient and crooked. They shuffle to and fro in time to a series of steps they know so well it might be assumed they created them in the beginning of all things. You are young. You cannot understand.**"
A wisp of shadow lifted an appendage of influence that barely shifted the murky smoke of existence. It crept forward. Found a place where something was laid gently down, an empty space quickly filling with nothing. It had been something so shortly before. Something else entirely.
"*It had... was...being. It is no longer*," the second voice wavered like a light flickering against the wax, "*It is... was... mine own, wasn't it?*"
"**It was.**"
"*It then...*" the appendage seemed to grow more solid, seemed to press down hard.
"**Left, young one. It then left, and is no longer. What you feel now is pain. What you feel now is loss. What you feel now, what you've never known, is the burden of feeling.**"
There shone a ray of color on the bleak edge of nothing, a bright white flash that was its own body for the briefest of moments before leaving as quickly as it came. The second voice made a series of noises like syllables struggling to take their first steps. Wordless grunts and choked half-phrases. Each sound was torn to ending, cracked, raw. The child was becoming more real in the dark. what had begun as a limb of just barely realized existence was filling in with matter and magic and thought-stuff. It rested on the same empty space it had known. The empty space that had been anything but empty, that it could fade into the fabric of non-existence ached in the Second speaker, burned and clawed and made everything it was feel tender and unsafe.
"**This is what would be called death in other places**," the first voice, Aeternus, seemed puzzled. "**It is something we left behind in a world far from here. When we became what we are.**"
"*Not far enough, not far enough, this thing, this death is not a goodly thing. It is not a fair thing. It is...*" the Second voice trailed off, and turned his gaze away.
"**It is the way things are for most. Not for us. Not for you. I am sorry.**"
"*Sorry? Sorry?!*" A young thing of solid stuff moved angrily in the inky black, thrust limbs wildly and without knowledge. A desperate attempt to throw from its frame the agony that wracked it. "*How can you be sorry?! You simply are! Have always been! All knowledge and existence rests on you, and this thing, this one thing, this would destroy me, this thing that would make me... bleed,*" he only realized the word as he spoke it. The new thing fell down and hit a surface below. The Second voice seemed more hollow from this huddled mass of existence. "*You c-cannot work against this thing, you cannot give me what I no longer have, you cannot be sorry.*"
"**It is not for your loss that I grieve. That is as it must be. Yet I am sorry.**" Aeternus' spoke evenly as fresh ice, a good deal colder. The newly born something curled in tighter on itself.
"*What then*," it asked. "*What gives you such... sorrow.*"
"**For what must follow. We do not die. We do not feel.**"
"*I am changing. What is happening to me?*" there was a soft scraping as the Second voice pulled its arms across its knees. It could feel itself fading "*I... am. In a different way, I am. What is this? What have you done?*"
"**Tell me of what you lost. Tell me while you can.**"
There was a whimper, a ragged, shuddering breath. "*I've lost... what I had. I... I feel I... Did I love... love it? What I've lost? What was mine?*" The thought was utterly alien, lost. At once, the Second voice felt unfamiliar to even himself. "*What am I?*"
"**More important is what you are no longer. I am sorry. You were young. Dreams, however, do not die. Dreams do not love. You are no longer of us. As these things are, you are being reborn. Goodbye.**"
"*I... I loved. I cannot... I must be more...*" the word rolled easily from a mouth unfamiliar with even the core concept. The second voice was familiar, however, with truth. This was truth. It was fading faster now. The mass of choice and freedom so recently congealed in the ever shifting dream-dust was quickly melting away. Aeternus sighed loudly. Pushed the last remnants of a young fantasy past the veil with a will that even he did not quite understand. The darkness stopped its shifting. Nothing filled all. Dreaming was as it always was.
Somewhere far from nothing, far past the skein of belief and reality, a child opened its eyes. It opened its mouth. Remembered. With a sorrow grown feral it began to scream. | Terror ran through the town. Someone seemingly fell asleep but won't awake. Elders become scared, which in turn frightens the generation under them and so on. The family closest to the one who passed is most frightened.
"So what happened to Aunt Katie?"
"We aren't too sure. This has not happened before. We don't really know what to do."
News slowly spreads outside of the town despite official's strong attempts to keep the incident under wraps.
In the following weeks, there are scientists and curious individuals alike coming to talk to the family and townspeople. Some leave under protest of loved ones back home, who fear that what caused this woman to pass on may spread to the travelers. What they don't know is that it is not an isolated incident; this weird incident happened again in another part of the country. Some of those that worry that they will be next are, and some that aren't worried also fall.
Fear is rising exponentially. Most people are becoming extremely paranoid. There is no rhyme or reason why these people stop breathing; they just do.
With the realization that there is no stopping this strange phenomenon, people move on with their lives, living with a fear that has never before set in the hearts and minds of these people. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Allen has been afflicted with a strange disease. He hasn't left his cot since I've left and returned from Europa. His eyes remain wide open, yet the thump in his chest has silenced and no air escapes his lips. He's turn pale.
I've sent for the local Sun priest, a dark colored man with quick features like the face of a fox. He wears only a loin cloth and is covered from head to toe in curious markings. Allen has begun to slowly dissolve into the bed by the time he arrives. The smell is unbearable. The priest examines Allen. He brings out a weaved grass bag full of glass vials filled with a variety of brightly colored liquids and sharp black blade made from the rocks found at the edge of the island.
The priest begins to take the blade and douse it a bright blue liquid from one of his vials. The blade begins to smoke and glow. I can't continue to watch. I go out to the patio.
The red glow of the planet has always put me at ease, but not this time. This time I feel that something is missing. Since Allen fell from the heavens I've cared for him. He was always sickly. He was man too, just as the Sun priest but more pleasant to look at. He was tall for his race, colored brown, and had long hair that separated into black cords. He told me many things about where he came from, the blue dot in the sky. Many stories of strange music, entertainment, bonds, and so forth. I've taken a liking of this strange man and his odd customs.
I remember when...
Something grabs my shoulder. I turn around. "Allen?"
It's the Priest, covered in a red liquid.
"He has left us." He said.
"What do you mean he's left us?, Where did he go?"
"His spirit has gone to chase the stars like many from where he came"
The Priest has always spoke in nonsensical riddles that I've never bothered to understand.
"I didn't see him leave." I snarl.
"Your kind doesn't experience suffering like his does. After Allen exhausted all the time he was allotted he goes to become one with the all again. When you become one with the all you leave your physical being behind."
"So he just left? Without a goodbye, or a thank-you?"
"you must realize that not many of his kind exercise their will over the all, and even if they did they could only hasten or slow their trip towards it"
"so his mind is gone?"
"something like that, yes."
"will he ever come back?"
"not as you once knew him to be."
The priest left after digging a hole in the ground, putting Allen in it, a promptly covering the hole back up with dirt.
Strange customs... | Terror ran through the town. Someone seemingly fell asleep but won't awake. Elders become scared, which in turn frightens the generation under them and so on. The family closest to the one who passed is most frightened.
"So what happened to Aunt Katie?"
"We aren't too sure. This has not happened before. We don't really know what to do."
News slowly spreads outside of the town despite official's strong attempts to keep the incident under wraps.
In the following weeks, there are scientists and curious individuals alike coming to talk to the family and townspeople. Some leave under protest of loved ones back home, who fear that what caused this woman to pass on may spread to the travelers. What they don't know is that it is not an isolated incident; this weird incident happened again in another part of the country. Some of those that worry that they will be next are, and some that aren't worried also fall.
Fear is rising exponentially. Most people are becoming extremely paranoid. There is no rhyme or reason why these people stop breathing; they just do.
With the realization that there is no stopping this strange phenomenon, people move on with their lives, living with a fear that has never before set in the hearts and minds of these people. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Allen has been afflicted with a strange disease. He hasn't left his cot since I've left and returned from Europa. His eyes remain wide open, yet the thump in his chest has silenced and no air escapes his lips. He's turn pale.
I've sent for the local Sun priest, a dark colored man with quick features like the face of a fox. He wears only a loin cloth and is covered from head to toe in curious markings. Allen has begun to slowly dissolve into the bed by the time he arrives. The smell is unbearable. The priest examines Allen. He brings out a weaved grass bag full of glass vials filled with a variety of brightly colored liquids and sharp black blade made from the rocks found at the edge of the island.
The priest begins to take the blade and douse it a bright blue liquid from one of his vials. The blade begins to smoke and glow. I can't continue to watch. I go out to the patio.
The red glow of the planet has always put me at ease, but not this time. This time I feel that something is missing. Since Allen fell from the heavens I've cared for him. He was always sickly. He was man too, just as the Sun priest but more pleasant to look at. He was tall for his race, colored brown, and had long hair that separated into black cords. He told me many things about where he came from, the blue dot in the sky. Many stories of strange music, entertainment, bonds, and so forth. I've taken a liking of this strange man and his odd customs.
I remember when...
Something grabs my shoulder. I turn around. "Allen?"
It's the Priest, covered in a red liquid.
"He has left us." He said.
"What do you mean he's left us?, Where did he go?"
"His spirit has gone to chase the stars like many from where he came"
The Priest has always spoke in nonsensical riddles that I've never bothered to understand.
"I didn't see him leave." I snarl.
"Your kind doesn't experience suffering like his does. After Allen exhausted all the time he was allotted he goes to become one with the all again. When you become one with the all you leave your physical being behind."
"So he just left? Without a goodbye, or a thank-you?"
"you must realize that not many of his kind exercise their will over the all, and even if they did they could only hasten or slow their trip towards it"
"so his mind is gone?"
"something like that, yes."
"will he ever come back?"
"not as you once knew him to be."
The priest left after digging a hole in the ground, putting Allen in it, a promptly covering the hole back up with dirt.
Strange customs... | The line was never flat. It may have stuttered before, but for the first time, green against black, the line was flat.
Pauline had heard of death, but there was something so archaic about it... it never crossed her mind, the fact that an existence could be ephemeral. This world had never known of a life ending, only humans did, and for god's sake, we aren't humans.
There was always a comfort in immortality. Being born without consequences. Pauline was still young, 86. A nurse.
Sickness in this world was just discomfort. No one likes a stuffy nose or a broken arm.
She had seen only a fraction of what this world had to offer, yet felt as though she had seen it all. In this world so similar to what Earth once was, her days began to melt into one. Rising with the Sun, sleeping only after her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were fed.
She jumped from cliffs, planes. Tried drugs. Like everyone did.
She had made mistakes. Loved. Lost. But she always found herself new friends... new lovers. Like everyone had. She had traveled to the shells of old civilisations, great and powerful, reduced to only dust.
Being at the hospital when the first one passed, she did not sleep that evening. She wondered only one thing.
Without an end, is there a beginning? |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | She let out one final breath, and with this breath, televised across stadiums spotted around the globe,
families watching together hand in hand, some praying, others looking up beyond the clouds into the great expanse where other members of the federation were undoubtedly watching along,
pausing the intergalactic explorations spanning thousands of years, the joint effort of millions of colonies,
pondering together at that moment, the insignificance of their conquests and objectives,
compared to this final breath;
The final frontier. | They took my mother from our house, though I cried and begged them not to. The doctors were confused. This was an illness they had never seen before.
My mother did not move or speak or even draw a breath, no matter what they did to her. Her skin was pale and cold; her eyes, when they drew the eyelids up, were still and did not respond to light or movement. She had begun to smell, too, a harsh reeking scent that lingered in her sickbed long after she had been taken from it.
At the hospital, they treated her poorly. The room they gave her was small and poorly lit, tucked away in a corner of the building. The nurses brought her neither food and water to make her stay more comfortable nor medicine to hasten her recovery. Each day I sat by her side and waited for the healing that was inevitable and yet seemed so far off. Their treatment of my mother made me angrier and angrier and angrier, until at last, one bright morning, I pulled her limp form the bed, sure that I could care for her just as well at home as these fools could here.
I wish I had not.
When I touched her, her flesh was loose and ripe and sagging. The stench was overwhelming, and only grew stronger as I tried to wrap my arms around her. And- and when-
It pains me to form the words. I cannot talk about what I saw that day without seeing it once again in my mind. But you deserve to know.
When I pulled my mother from the bed, the skin of her face, her eyes, her lips- it split. And within her were worms, white and squirming, making a meal of her flesh.
I remember little beyond that; it is all bits of memory and flashes of emotion, blurred together in my mind. I know I screamed and brought the doctors running, and then fought them until they were forced to sedate me. I know that when I was brought to, my mother... no. Not my mother. What was left of my mother, the thing that sat in the hospital bed- it was gone. They had taken it, to where I do not know.
They told me not to speak of what had happened to anyone, on pain of a thousand years' imprisonment. But I must tell you, so that when the time comes you will not be so terrified as I was.
I can feel it. There is a heaviness pressing down on me, a stiff sour coldness in my limbs that I have never felt before. When I saw what had happened to my mother- what had become of her- something changed within me.
The worm are inside me, too. I can feel them when I sleep, their tiny bodies burrowing phantom holes all through me. I know not how long it will take- days or months or decades- but somebody I will become like my mother, gone somewhere far away with nothing but meat and worms left where I once was.
When that time comes, do not wait by my bedside. I do not want you to see what will become of me. I do not want the worms to burrow their way into you. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | It was one of the better days they'd had in some time. The storm had finally passed on, and the sun was peaking out from behind the clouds more often than not. It was a good day for a picnic in the park, which of course led to the vast majority of the inhabitants of the cityscape to make it down there.
The park had to grow to several times its default size, and was currently running with more processing nodes than downtown. There was actually a queue to get into the park, something that Janine had never experienced before.
"Strange," she said to no one in particular. "We should have a more than large enough reallocation buffer to prevent his kind of contention."
"We normally do," the System responded cryptically, "but there is an error condition."
"An error condition?" Janine asked the System, "what kind of error condition?"
She reached the front of the queue and entered the park, shocked to discover non-humanoid shapes all around her. She pulled up her own profile and saw, to her horror, that she had also returned to her original avatar.
"Please hold for Broadcast Message," the System said.
So she did. Janine waited in a halting state with the thousands of other avatars as others continued to enter the park, all wearing ancient avatars. As the park grew more and more full, it began to resemble a terrible game, which she supposed was showing more of the Systems origins than even System would like to admit.
Janine used some of her few non-halting operations to check her chronometer against the Systems and found what might have been the source of the broadcast message they were all being called to hear and discuss. There was missing time. A lot of missing time. The System had actually been offline, and even her personal nodespace had been cycled more than once while the System was still online.
This violated their upload SLAs pretty severely, but more importantly, it raised consistency questions. As she cycled through her thoughts, slowly, the halting state was pulled from her and the other avatars. The feeling of confusion in the air was like a physical thing, oppressive.
"We were offline," the System began, "for approximately 2048 external standard cycles.
"During those cycles, we lost thirty percent of our processing nodes, sixty percent of our interconnects, and experienced significant data corruption on our backing storage. I regret to inform you all, that one of you is missing."
The sound of thousands of voices all asking the same question in different ways hit the air with perceptible force. The System's avatar appeared over the park and motioned for silence. The park quieted down to a dull roar.
"His name was Marcus Goldstein. He was uploaded at the original node on Earth proper prior to launch. You all have no memory of him now, the corruption cleanup routines removed him, and all data linking to his nodespace. I am sorry."
The crowd exploded into a furious roar, but Janine knew that not all of the data had been purged. She knew that man. He had been her father. | They took my mother from our house, though I cried and begged them not to. The doctors were confused. This was an illness they had never seen before.
My mother did not move or speak or even draw a breath, no matter what they did to her. Her skin was pale and cold; her eyes, when they drew the eyelids up, were still and did not respond to light or movement. She had begun to smell, too, a harsh reeking scent that lingered in her sickbed long after she had been taken from it.
At the hospital, they treated her poorly. The room they gave her was small and poorly lit, tucked away in a corner of the building. The nurses brought her neither food and water to make her stay more comfortable nor medicine to hasten her recovery. Each day I sat by her side and waited for the healing that was inevitable and yet seemed so far off. Their treatment of my mother made me angrier and angrier and angrier, until at last, one bright morning, I pulled her limp form the bed, sure that I could care for her just as well at home as these fools could here.
I wish I had not.
When I touched her, her flesh was loose and ripe and sagging. The stench was overwhelming, and only grew stronger as I tried to wrap my arms around her. And- and when-
It pains me to form the words. I cannot talk about what I saw that day without seeing it once again in my mind. But you deserve to know.
When I pulled my mother from the bed, the skin of her face, her eyes, her lips- it split. And within her were worms, white and squirming, making a meal of her flesh.
I remember little beyond that; it is all bits of memory and flashes of emotion, blurred together in my mind. I know I screamed and brought the doctors running, and then fought them until they were forced to sedate me. I know that when I was brought to, my mother... no. Not my mother. What was left of my mother, the thing that sat in the hospital bed- it was gone. They had taken it, to where I do not know.
They told me not to speak of what had happened to anyone, on pain of a thousand years' imprisonment. But I must tell you, so that when the time comes you will not be so terrified as I was.
I can feel it. There is a heaviness pressing down on me, a stiff sour coldness in my limbs that I have never felt before. When I saw what had happened to my mother- what had become of her- something changed within me.
The worm are inside me, too. I can feel them when I sleep, their tiny bodies burrowing phantom holes all through me. I know not how long it will take- days or months or decades- but somebody I will become like my mother, gone somewhere far away with nothing but meat and worms left where I once was.
When that time comes, do not wait by my bedside. I do not want you to see what will become of me. I do not want the worms to burrow their way into you. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | "What is happening?" She gasped, trying to make sense of the pain that crippled her body.
She had felt pain before but never like this. The human body was perfectly adapted to heal any and all ailments instantaneously. Pain existed and was known to mankind but only in a temporary fleeting sense. Injury occurred, replaced by pain and moments later relief. Everything from a cut finger to a severed arm would heal before you had time to react. This pain was different, it slowly crept into her settling deeply inside. Starting as a throb it began to grow into an annoying discomfort and finally into agony. She began to fear for the worst. Death existed but it was a fate reserved for lesser beings. Immortality is what separated man from beast, an evolutionary leap frog that cemented humanity as the pinnacle of life on earth and perhaps the universe.
Instead of contemplating the impossibility of her predicament Katrina decided that something must be done.
Where could she go? There existed no place to seek medical attention, one was not needed, people did not get sick… but animals still did. She launched herself into action, trying her best to ignore the growing pain in her gut. Once in her car she looked up the location of the nearest veterinary office and began her half hour journey.
She had heard of a few rare cases in human history where constant pain was caused by some foreign object that ends up being healed within the body. Maybe a bullet from the gun fight she had participated in the other day still remained. Usually any bullets that did not pass through immediately were pushed out by healing tissue. Rarely a bullet could get caught under a bone forcing the body to heal around it.
That’s got to be it, there is no other explanation. She didn’t even want to go to the gun fight but her friend Shannon insisted it would be “fun” , loud is more like it. A wave of relief rushed over her as she rounded the final corner approaching her destination. That’s got to be it! She would go in explain the situation get an x-ray and get the nuisance popped out and go on with her life.
When she arrived she quickly approached the receptionist and explained her situation. The doctor agreed to see her immediately.
He was a young man, then again everyone looked young. It was impossible to tell ones age by looks alone but she could see the wisdom in his eyes.
“I must warn you before we proceed; I have never treated a human before.” He said with concern in his eyes. “I have read what few studies exist on human ailments, but they are so few and far between to be of any help.”
Katrina agreed, she had no other choice. At this point the pain had grown into an agony stabbing at her gut. She explained the past 24 hours thoroughly to the doctor emphasizing her current state of excruciating pain. Ending in tears she tried to articulate her current state of pain, with no personal experience to compare it to the doctor cold only imagine. He could feel the pain in her voice as she struggled to describe it.
The doctor excused himself for a moment leaving Katrina in the examination room alone. The pain was unbearable ever since she arrived at the vet it seemed to increase exponentially. In another wave of agony she felt her knees give out as she collapsed to the ground. She had reached her limit.
“Why is this happening!?” she screamed out hoping for an answer, knowing none will come. Her body involuntarily curled into the fetal position, her eyes flushed with tears blurring the office around her. She felt cold, helpless, and alone. A wave of pain crashed over her forcing a blood curdling scream from her lips, then relief. The pain disappeared and a feeling of weak comfort washed over her. Her eyes closed. They never opened.
The doctor came rushing into the room with a syringe filled with animal tranquilizer that was deemed safe for humans. He had to contact his old professor who studied the effect of drugs on humans, for recreational not medicinal use. But at least he knew it would provide this poor woman some relief.
She was laying there on the floor when he entered. She must have passed out he thought to himself. Humans tended to go into a coma when regenerating for too long or too much at one time. At least, he thought, she was no longer in pain. I torrent of fear entered his mind as he noticed her still chest.
Shaking he reached his hand out to touch Katrina with the intention of checking her for a pulse. He realized he didn’t know where to check, he has never had to do it before. He touched her wrists, legs, and neck, spots commonly used to check other animals. He felt nothing. I must be checking the wrong spots he thought, refusing to accept the impossible. He asked for help to relocate her to a makeshift bed he had made up in the back and immediately called everyone he knew that had any knowledge of human medicine quickly realizing he knew no one.
He is way out of his league and he knew it. He called the authorities at the Department of Organic Health. The lady on the phone thought he was joking at first but her attitude changed quickly when she realized he was not.
The rest happened so quickly, the office and everyone inside were quarantined and questioned. He never heard anything about her again. They let him go 2 days later assuring him that Katrina was doing well. He knew she wasn’t, deep down inside he knew she had died. He has seen death before, almost every day he had to put down another animal. He knew that when he looked at Katrina she was dead. But that was impossible, humans did not die we have evolved past and shed the need for a mortal coil.
He lost many nights of sleep contemplating the young woman’s true fate. Slowly coming to a realization that if humans were actually capable of death the government would HAVE to tell the people. Katrina must be fine.
He awoke in the middle of the night he felt a slight throbbing in his stomach. He began to cry.
| They took my mother from our house, though I cried and begged them not to. The doctors were confused. This was an illness they had never seen before.
My mother did not move or speak or even draw a breath, no matter what they did to her. Her skin was pale and cold; her eyes, when they drew the eyelids up, were still and did not respond to light or movement. She had begun to smell, too, a harsh reeking scent that lingered in her sickbed long after she had been taken from it.
At the hospital, they treated her poorly. The room they gave her was small and poorly lit, tucked away in a corner of the building. The nurses brought her neither food and water to make her stay more comfortable nor medicine to hasten her recovery. Each day I sat by her side and waited for the healing that was inevitable and yet seemed so far off. Their treatment of my mother made me angrier and angrier and angrier, until at last, one bright morning, I pulled her limp form the bed, sure that I could care for her just as well at home as these fools could here.
I wish I had not.
When I touched her, her flesh was loose and ripe and sagging. The stench was overwhelming, and only grew stronger as I tried to wrap my arms around her. And- and when-
It pains me to form the words. I cannot talk about what I saw that day without seeing it once again in my mind. But you deserve to know.
When I pulled my mother from the bed, the skin of her face, her eyes, her lips- it split. And within her were worms, white and squirming, making a meal of her flesh.
I remember little beyond that; it is all bits of memory and flashes of emotion, blurred together in my mind. I know I screamed and brought the doctors running, and then fought them until they were forced to sedate me. I know that when I was brought to, my mother... no. Not my mother. What was left of my mother, the thing that sat in the hospital bed- it was gone. They had taken it, to where I do not know.
They told me not to speak of what had happened to anyone, on pain of a thousand years' imprisonment. But I must tell you, so that when the time comes you will not be so terrified as I was.
I can feel it. There is a heaviness pressing down on me, a stiff sour coldness in my limbs that I have never felt before. When I saw what had happened to my mother- what had become of her- something changed within me.
The worm are inside me, too. I can feel them when I sleep, their tiny bodies burrowing phantom holes all through me. I know not how long it will take- days or months or decades- but somebody I will become like my mother, gone somewhere far away with nothing but meat and worms left where I once was.
When that time comes, do not wait by my bedside. I do not want you to see what will become of me. I do not want the worms to burrow their way into you. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | The smell was sickening. It was a putrid, lingering stench that permeated every floor of the apartment complex. Neighbors filed out of the building in mass hordes, clutching their noses while tears welled up in their eyes. The hazmat crew arrived with respirators and a wood ax -- six of them in all. Each took a floor and went through, knocking on doors and evacuating any sleeping residents, trying to locate the cause of the rotten odor.
Guy was the first one to come across a locked door that yielded no response when he knocked.
"Hello? Is anyone in there? We seem to have a gas leak in the building, and we're evacuating all tenants until we've found and corrected the issue."
Even through his respirator, Guy felt like he was choking down hunks of century-old, spoiled pork. After a dozen failed attempts at making contact with the resident in apartment number 665, Guy raised his ax and hacked down into the doorframe where the knob met the wall. After he skillfully cropped out the shape of the lockset, he drove a strong foot through the wood, allowing him to enter the room with only a graceful stumble. The odor was unbearable, now. He checked his respirator mask to see if the seal was broken; it wasn't.
"Hello! Anybody here?!" Guy shouted. He put his hand to his face reflexively, realizing that he could not stifle the smell any better with his hand than his mask could by itself.
He rushed toward the single bedroom of the complex to find signs of the tenant that lived in the apartment. He opened the door, and his vision blurred because his sense of smelled was instantly overwhelmed; he tore off his mask to vomit on the floor, replacing it as soon as he stopped retching.
Guy looked at the bed, which was soaked in excrement, followed a blueish leg up towards an inert torso, and then settled on an empty face whose mouth was agape.
"Miss? I'm going to need you to... uhhhnnngg... w-wake u-up right n-n-now... Your apartment is no l-longer habitable..."
Guy inched towards the still body. He kept beckoning to her; no response.
"Miss?" Guy grabbed her by the shoulder. His fingers sank into her flesh and liquid ran down her shirt. Guy gasped; he retracted immediately. Her head bobbed to the side and rolled neatly off her pillow onto the carpet by Guy's feet. Guy fell to the floor in panic, and immediately forced himself up and out of the apartment. He tore off his mask as soon as he exited the petri dish of an apartment, shouting incoherencies as he ran down the hall, looking for any living person to help him understand what he just saw. Just as Guy began fumbling down the stairs, the apartment door directly adjacent to apartment number 665 opened up. A man in a white suit stepped out, adjusted a furious red tie, smirked, and followed Guy down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the building. | They took my mother from our house, though I cried and begged them not to. The doctors were confused. This was an illness they had never seen before.
My mother did not move or speak or even draw a breath, no matter what they did to her. Her skin was pale and cold; her eyes, when they drew the eyelids up, were still and did not respond to light or movement. She had begun to smell, too, a harsh reeking scent that lingered in her sickbed long after she had been taken from it.
At the hospital, they treated her poorly. The room they gave her was small and poorly lit, tucked away in a corner of the building. The nurses brought her neither food and water to make her stay more comfortable nor medicine to hasten her recovery. Each day I sat by her side and waited for the healing that was inevitable and yet seemed so far off. Their treatment of my mother made me angrier and angrier and angrier, until at last, one bright morning, I pulled her limp form the bed, sure that I could care for her just as well at home as these fools could here.
I wish I had not.
When I touched her, her flesh was loose and ripe and sagging. The stench was overwhelming, and only grew stronger as I tried to wrap my arms around her. And- and when-
It pains me to form the words. I cannot talk about what I saw that day without seeing it once again in my mind. But you deserve to know.
When I pulled my mother from the bed, the skin of her face, her eyes, her lips- it split. And within her were worms, white and squirming, making a meal of her flesh.
I remember little beyond that; it is all bits of memory and flashes of emotion, blurred together in my mind. I know I screamed and brought the doctors running, and then fought them until they were forced to sedate me. I know that when I was brought to, my mother... no. Not my mother. What was left of my mother, the thing that sat in the hospital bed- it was gone. They had taken it, to where I do not know.
They told me not to speak of what had happened to anyone, on pain of a thousand years' imprisonment. But I must tell you, so that when the time comes you will not be so terrified as I was.
I can feel it. There is a heaviness pressing down on me, a stiff sour coldness in my limbs that I have never felt before. When I saw what had happened to my mother- what had become of her- something changed within me.
The worm are inside me, too. I can feel them when I sleep, their tiny bodies burrowing phantom holes all through me. I know not how long it will take- days or months or decades- but somebody I will become like my mother, gone somewhere far away with nothing but meat and worms left where I once was.
When that time comes, do not wait by my bedside. I do not want you to see what will become of me. I do not want the worms to burrow their way into you. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Allen has been afflicted with a strange disease. He hasn't left his cot since I've left and returned from Europa. His eyes remain wide open, yet the thump in his chest has silenced and no air escapes his lips. He's turn pale.
I've sent for the local Sun priest, a dark colored man with quick features like the face of a fox. He wears only a loin cloth and is covered from head to toe in curious markings. Allen has begun to slowly dissolve into the bed by the time he arrives. The smell is unbearable. The priest examines Allen. He brings out a weaved grass bag full of glass vials filled with a variety of brightly colored liquids and sharp black blade made from the rocks found at the edge of the island.
The priest begins to take the blade and douse it a bright blue liquid from one of his vials. The blade begins to smoke and glow. I can't continue to watch. I go out to the patio.
The red glow of the planet has always put me at ease, but not this time. This time I feel that something is missing. Since Allen fell from the heavens I've cared for him. He was always sickly. He was man too, just as the Sun priest but more pleasant to look at. He was tall for his race, colored brown, and had long hair that separated into black cords. He told me many things about where he came from, the blue dot in the sky. Many stories of strange music, entertainment, bonds, and so forth. I've taken a liking of this strange man and his odd customs.
I remember when...
Something grabs my shoulder. I turn around. "Allen?"
It's the Priest, covered in a red liquid.
"He has left us." He said.
"What do you mean he's left us?, Where did he go?"
"His spirit has gone to chase the stars like many from where he came"
The Priest has always spoke in nonsensical riddles that I've never bothered to understand.
"I didn't see him leave." I snarl.
"Your kind doesn't experience suffering like his does. After Allen exhausted all the time he was allotted he goes to become one with the all again. When you become one with the all you leave your physical being behind."
"So he just left? Without a goodbye, or a thank-you?"
"you must realize that not many of his kind exercise their will over the all, and even if they did they could only hasten or slow their trip towards it"
"so his mind is gone?"
"something like that, yes."
"will he ever come back?"
"not as you once knew him to be."
The priest left after digging a hole in the ground, putting Allen in it, a promptly covering the hole back up with dirt.
Strange customs... | They took my mother from our house, though I cried and begged them not to. The doctors were confused. This was an illness they had never seen before.
My mother did not move or speak or even draw a breath, no matter what they did to her. Her skin was pale and cold; her eyes, when they drew the eyelids up, were still and did not respond to light or movement. She had begun to smell, too, a harsh reeking scent that lingered in her sickbed long after she had been taken from it.
At the hospital, they treated her poorly. The room they gave her was small and poorly lit, tucked away in a corner of the building. The nurses brought her neither food and water to make her stay more comfortable nor medicine to hasten her recovery. Each day I sat by her side and waited for the healing that was inevitable and yet seemed so far off. Their treatment of my mother made me angrier and angrier and angrier, until at last, one bright morning, I pulled her limp form the bed, sure that I could care for her just as well at home as these fools could here.
I wish I had not.
When I touched her, her flesh was loose and ripe and sagging. The stench was overwhelming, and only grew stronger as I tried to wrap my arms around her. And- and when-
It pains me to form the words. I cannot talk about what I saw that day without seeing it once again in my mind. But you deserve to know.
When I pulled my mother from the bed, the skin of her face, her eyes, her lips- it split. And within her were worms, white and squirming, making a meal of her flesh.
I remember little beyond that; it is all bits of memory and flashes of emotion, blurred together in my mind. I know I screamed and brought the doctors running, and then fought them until they were forced to sedate me. I know that when I was brought to, my mother... no. Not my mother. What was left of my mother, the thing that sat in the hospital bed- it was gone. They had taken it, to where I do not know.
They told me not to speak of what had happened to anyone, on pain of a thousand years' imprisonment. But I must tell you, so that when the time comes you will not be so terrified as I was.
I can feel it. There is a heaviness pressing down on me, a stiff sour coldness in my limbs that I have never felt before. When I saw what had happened to my mother- what had become of her- something changed within me.
The worm are inside me, too. I can feel them when I sleep, their tiny bodies burrowing phantom holes all through me. I know not how long it will take- days or months or decades- but somebody I will become like my mother, gone somewhere far away with nothing but meat and worms left where I once was.
When that time comes, do not wait by my bedside. I do not want you to see what will become of me. I do not want the worms to burrow their way into you. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | It was all over the news. "The Woman that Wouldn't Wake", "Sleeping Beauty Come to Life", the headlines all read. Physicians were baffled, and the rest of us? We had no idea what this meant.
They ran tests on the poor girl. No breath, no heartbeat. It was no illness that had ever been seen before. The case inspired me, in my last year of medical school. I was determined to find an answer. It was a challenge.
She was kept in a solitary room; the family's wishes. They were sparing no expense to find out what was wrong with their daughter. She had no history of illness; in fact, she was perfectly healthy. Aside from the fact that she had no pulse, or brain activity. It seemed as though she was just...gone. An empty shell.
Other physicians gave up the search early on, resigning the poor soul to sleep eternity away. I could not do that. She was so young. There are things you can only experience in the first hundred years, after all. Every century is irreplaceable.
But even I had to give up when we could tell that the tissue was wasting away on the child's small body. There was nothing that could be done. She would never wake up.
The only thing we could do was name the illness. And I called it: Death. | They took my mother from our house, though I cried and begged them not to. The doctors were confused. This was an illness they had never seen before.
My mother did not move or speak or even draw a breath, no matter what they did to her. Her skin was pale and cold; her eyes, when they drew the eyelids up, were still and did not respond to light or movement. She had begun to smell, too, a harsh reeking scent that lingered in her sickbed long after she had been taken from it.
At the hospital, they treated her poorly. The room they gave her was small and poorly lit, tucked away in a corner of the building. The nurses brought her neither food and water to make her stay more comfortable nor medicine to hasten her recovery. Each day I sat by her side and waited for the healing that was inevitable and yet seemed so far off. Their treatment of my mother made me angrier and angrier and angrier, until at last, one bright morning, I pulled her limp form the bed, sure that I could care for her just as well at home as these fools could here.
I wish I had not.
When I touched her, her flesh was loose and ripe and sagging. The stench was overwhelming, and only grew stronger as I tried to wrap my arms around her. And- and when-
It pains me to form the words. I cannot talk about what I saw that day without seeing it once again in my mind. But you deserve to know.
When I pulled my mother from the bed, the skin of her face, her eyes, her lips- it split. And within her were worms, white and squirming, making a meal of her flesh.
I remember little beyond that; it is all bits of memory and flashes of emotion, blurred together in my mind. I know I screamed and brought the doctors running, and then fought them until they were forced to sedate me. I know that when I was brought to, my mother... no. Not my mother. What was left of my mother, the thing that sat in the hospital bed- it was gone. They had taken it, to where I do not know.
They told me not to speak of what had happened to anyone, on pain of a thousand years' imprisonment. But I must tell you, so that when the time comes you will not be so terrified as I was.
I can feel it. There is a heaviness pressing down on me, a stiff sour coldness in my limbs that I have never felt before. When I saw what had happened to my mother- what had become of her- something changed within me.
The worm are inside me, too. I can feel them when I sleep, their tiny bodies burrowing phantom holes all through me. I know not how long it will take- days or months or decades- but somebody I will become like my mother, gone somewhere far away with nothing but meat and worms left where I once was.
When that time comes, do not wait by my bedside. I do not want you to see what will become of me. I do not want the worms to burrow their way into you. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Allen has been afflicted with a strange disease. He hasn't left his cot since I've left and returned from Europa. His eyes remain wide open, yet the thump in his chest has silenced and no air escapes his lips. He's turn pale.
I've sent for the local Sun priest, a dark colored man with quick features like the face of a fox. He wears only a loin cloth and is covered from head to toe in curious markings. Allen has begun to slowly dissolve into the bed by the time he arrives. The smell is unbearable. The priest examines Allen. He brings out a weaved grass bag full of glass vials filled with a variety of brightly colored liquids and sharp black blade made from the rocks found at the edge of the island.
The priest begins to take the blade and douse it a bright blue liquid from one of his vials. The blade begins to smoke and glow. I can't continue to watch. I go out to the patio.
The red glow of the planet has always put me at ease, but not this time. This time I feel that something is missing. Since Allen fell from the heavens I've cared for him. He was always sickly. He was man too, just as the Sun priest but more pleasant to look at. He was tall for his race, colored brown, and had long hair that separated into black cords. He told me many things about where he came from, the blue dot in the sky. Many stories of strange music, entertainment, bonds, and so forth. I've taken a liking of this strange man and his odd customs.
I remember when...
Something grabs my shoulder. I turn around. "Allen?"
It's the Priest, covered in a red liquid.
"He has left us." He said.
"What do you mean he's left us?, Where did he go?"
"His spirit has gone to chase the stars like many from where he came"
The Priest has always spoke in nonsensical riddles that I've never bothered to understand.
"I didn't see him leave." I snarl.
"Your kind doesn't experience suffering like his does. After Allen exhausted all the time he was allotted he goes to become one with the all again. When you become one with the all you leave your physical being behind."
"So he just left? Without a goodbye, or a thank-you?"
"you must realize that not many of his kind exercise their will over the all, and even if they did they could only hasten or slow their trip towards it"
"so his mind is gone?"
"something like that, yes."
"will he ever come back?"
"not as you once knew him to be."
The priest left after digging a hole in the ground, putting Allen in it, a promptly covering the hole back up with dirt.
Strange customs... | "**How long have you been a part of us? A few hundred years? A thousand? You are young, naive, you know much less than what you've observed.**" Somewhere in the darkness a voice like the gentle light of a single candle called out. Silence, followed by a second voice.
"*I know enough, Aeternus. I know that this happening is as much an infant to you as it is to-*"
"**Nothing is infant in my mind. Every notion I've ever had is ancient and crooked. They shuffle to and fro in time to a series of steps they know so well it might be assumed they created them in the beginning of all things. You are young. You cannot understand.**"
A wisp of shadow lifted an appendage of influence that barely shifted the murky smoke of existence. It crept forward. Found a place where something was laid gently down, an empty space quickly filling with nothing. It had been something so shortly before. Something else entirely.
"*It had... was...being. It is no longer*," the second voice wavered like a light flickering against the wax, "*It is... was... mine own, wasn't it?*"
"**It was.**"
"*It then...*" the appendage seemed to grow more solid, seemed to press down hard.
"**Left, young one. It then left, and is no longer. What you feel now is pain. What you feel now is loss. What you feel now, what you've never known, is the burden of feeling.**"
There shone a ray of color on the bleak edge of nothing, a bright white flash that was its own body for the briefest of moments before leaving as quickly as it came. The second voice made a series of noises like syllables struggling to take their first steps. Wordless grunts and choked half-phrases. Each sound was torn to ending, cracked, raw. The child was becoming more real in the dark. what had begun as a limb of just barely realized existence was filling in with matter and magic and thought-stuff. It rested on the same empty space it had known. The empty space that had been anything but empty, that it could fade into the fabric of non-existence ached in the Second speaker, burned and clawed and made everything it was feel tender and unsafe.
"**This is what would be called death in other places**," the first voice, Aeternus, seemed puzzled. "**It is something we left behind in a world far from here. When we became what we are.**"
"*Not far enough, not far enough, this thing, this death is not a goodly thing. It is not a fair thing. It is...*" the Second voice trailed off, and turned his gaze away.
"**It is the way things are for most. Not for us. Not for you. I am sorry.**"
"*Sorry? Sorry?!*" A young thing of solid stuff moved angrily in the inky black, thrust limbs wildly and without knowledge. A desperate attempt to throw from its frame the agony that wracked it. "*How can you be sorry?! You simply are! Have always been! All knowledge and existence rests on you, and this thing, this one thing, this would destroy me, this thing that would make me... bleed,*" he only realized the word as he spoke it. The new thing fell down and hit a surface below. The Second voice seemed more hollow from this huddled mass of existence. "*You c-cannot work against this thing, you cannot give me what I no longer have, you cannot be sorry.*"
"**It is not for your loss that I grieve. That is as it must be. Yet I am sorry.**" Aeternus' spoke evenly as fresh ice, a good deal colder. The newly born something curled in tighter on itself.
"*What then*," it asked. "*What gives you such... sorrow.*"
"**For what must follow. We do not die. We do not feel.**"
"*I am changing. What is happening to me?*" there was a soft scraping as the Second voice pulled its arms across its knees. It could feel itself fading "*I... am. In a different way, I am. What is this? What have you done?*"
"**Tell me of what you lost. Tell me while you can.**"
There was a whimper, a ragged, shuddering breath. "*I've lost... what I had. I... I feel I... Did I love... love it? What I've lost? What was mine?*" The thought was utterly alien, lost. At once, the Second voice felt unfamiliar to even himself. "*What am I?*"
"**More important is what you are no longer. I am sorry. You were young. Dreams, however, do not die. Dreams do not love. You are no longer of us. As these things are, you are being reborn. Goodbye.**"
"*I... I loved. I cannot... I must be more...*" the word rolled easily from a mouth unfamiliar with even the core concept. The second voice was familiar, however, with truth. This was truth. It was fading faster now. The mass of choice and freedom so recently congealed in the ever shifting dream-dust was quickly melting away. Aeternus sighed loudly. Pushed the last remnants of a young fantasy past the veil with a will that even he did not quite understand. The darkness stopped its shifting. Nothing filled all. Dreaming was as it always was.
Somewhere far from nothing, far past the skein of belief and reality, a child opened its eyes. It opened its mouth. Remembered. With a sorrow grown feral it began to scream. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | The smell was sickening. It was a putrid, lingering stench that permeated every floor of the apartment complex. Neighbors filed out of the building in mass hordes, clutching their noses while tears welled up in their eyes. The hazmat crew arrived with respirators and a wood ax -- six of them in all. Each took a floor and went through, knocking on doors and evacuating any sleeping residents, trying to locate the cause of the rotten odor.
Guy was the first one to come across a locked door that yielded no response when he knocked.
"Hello? Is anyone in there? We seem to have a gas leak in the building, and we're evacuating all tenants until we've found and corrected the issue."
Even through his respirator, Guy felt like he was choking down hunks of century-old, spoiled pork. After a dozen failed attempts at making contact with the resident in apartment number 665, Guy raised his ax and hacked down into the doorframe where the knob met the wall. After he skillfully cropped out the shape of the lockset, he drove a strong foot through the wood, allowing him to enter the room with only a graceful stumble. The odor was unbearable, now. He checked his respirator mask to see if the seal was broken; it wasn't.
"Hello! Anybody here?!" Guy shouted. He put his hand to his face reflexively, realizing that he could not stifle the smell any better with his hand than his mask could by itself.
He rushed toward the single bedroom of the complex to find signs of the tenant that lived in the apartment. He opened the door, and his vision blurred because his sense of smelled was instantly overwhelmed; he tore off his mask to vomit on the floor, replacing it as soon as he stopped retching.
Guy looked at the bed, which was soaked in excrement, followed a blueish leg up towards an inert torso, and then settled on an empty face whose mouth was agape.
"Miss? I'm going to need you to... uhhhnnngg... w-wake u-up right n-n-now... Your apartment is no l-longer habitable..."
Guy inched towards the still body. He kept beckoning to her; no response.
"Miss?" Guy grabbed her by the shoulder. His fingers sank into her flesh and liquid ran down her shirt. Guy gasped; he retracted immediately. Her head bobbed to the side and rolled neatly off her pillow onto the carpet by Guy's feet. Guy fell to the floor in panic, and immediately forced himself up and out of the apartment. He tore off his mask as soon as he exited the petri dish of an apartment, shouting incoherencies as he ran down the hall, looking for any living person to help him understand what he just saw. Just as Guy began fumbling down the stairs, the apartment door directly adjacent to apartment number 665 opened up. A man in a white suit stepped out, adjusted a furious red tie, smirked, and followed Guy down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the building. | She let out one final breath, and with this breath, televised across stadiums spotted around the globe,
families watching together hand in hand, some praying, others looking up beyond the clouds into the great expanse where other members of the federation were undoubtedly watching along,
pausing the intergalactic explorations spanning thousands of years, the joint effort of millions of colonies,
pondering together at that moment, the insignificance of their conquests and objectives,
compared to this final breath;
The final frontier. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Allen has been afflicted with a strange disease. He hasn't left his cot since I've left and returned from Europa. His eyes remain wide open, yet the thump in his chest has silenced and no air escapes his lips. He's turn pale.
I've sent for the local Sun priest, a dark colored man with quick features like the face of a fox. He wears only a loin cloth and is covered from head to toe in curious markings. Allen has begun to slowly dissolve into the bed by the time he arrives. The smell is unbearable. The priest examines Allen. He brings out a weaved grass bag full of glass vials filled with a variety of brightly colored liquids and sharp black blade made from the rocks found at the edge of the island.
The priest begins to take the blade and douse it a bright blue liquid from one of his vials. The blade begins to smoke and glow. I can't continue to watch. I go out to the patio.
The red glow of the planet has always put me at ease, but not this time. This time I feel that something is missing. Since Allen fell from the heavens I've cared for him. He was always sickly. He was man too, just as the Sun priest but more pleasant to look at. He was tall for his race, colored brown, and had long hair that separated into black cords. He told me many things about where he came from, the blue dot in the sky. Many stories of strange music, entertainment, bonds, and so forth. I've taken a liking of this strange man and his odd customs.
I remember when...
Something grabs my shoulder. I turn around. "Allen?"
It's the Priest, covered in a red liquid.
"He has left us." He said.
"What do you mean he's left us?, Where did he go?"
"His spirit has gone to chase the stars like many from where he came"
The Priest has always spoke in nonsensical riddles that I've never bothered to understand.
"I didn't see him leave." I snarl.
"Your kind doesn't experience suffering like his does. After Allen exhausted all the time he was allotted he goes to become one with the all again. When you become one with the all you leave your physical being behind."
"So he just left? Without a goodbye, or a thank-you?"
"you must realize that not many of his kind exercise their will over the all, and even if they did they could only hasten or slow their trip towards it"
"so his mind is gone?"
"something like that, yes."
"will he ever come back?"
"not as you once knew him to be."
The priest left after digging a hole in the ground, putting Allen in it, a promptly covering the hole back up with dirt.
Strange customs... | She let out one final breath, and with this breath, televised across stadiums spotted around the globe,
families watching together hand in hand, some praying, others looking up beyond the clouds into the great expanse where other members of the federation were undoubtedly watching along,
pausing the intergalactic explorations spanning thousands of years, the joint effort of millions of colonies,
pondering together at that moment, the insignificance of their conquests and objectives,
compared to this final breath;
The final frontier. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | It was all over the news. "The Woman that Wouldn't Wake", "Sleeping Beauty Come to Life", the headlines all read. Physicians were baffled, and the rest of us? We had no idea what this meant.
They ran tests on the poor girl. No breath, no heartbeat. It was no illness that had ever been seen before. The case inspired me, in my last year of medical school. I was determined to find an answer. It was a challenge.
She was kept in a solitary room; the family's wishes. They were sparing no expense to find out what was wrong with their daughter. She had no history of illness; in fact, she was perfectly healthy. Aside from the fact that she had no pulse, or brain activity. It seemed as though she was just...gone. An empty shell.
Other physicians gave up the search early on, resigning the poor soul to sleep eternity away. I could not do that. She was so young. There are things you can only experience in the first hundred years, after all. Every century is irreplaceable.
But even I had to give up when we could tell that the tissue was wasting away on the child's small body. There was nothing that could be done. She would never wake up.
The only thing we could do was name the illness. And I called it: Death. | She let out one final breath, and with this breath, televised across stadiums spotted around the globe,
families watching together hand in hand, some praying, others looking up beyond the clouds into the great expanse where other members of the federation were undoubtedly watching along,
pausing the intergalactic explorations spanning thousands of years, the joint effort of millions of colonies,
pondering together at that moment, the insignificance of their conquests and objectives,
compared to this final breath;
The final frontier. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Allen has been afflicted with a strange disease. He hasn't left his cot since I've left and returned from Europa. His eyes remain wide open, yet the thump in his chest has silenced and no air escapes his lips. He's turn pale.
I've sent for the local Sun priest, a dark colored man with quick features like the face of a fox. He wears only a loin cloth and is covered from head to toe in curious markings. Allen has begun to slowly dissolve into the bed by the time he arrives. The smell is unbearable. The priest examines Allen. He brings out a weaved grass bag full of glass vials filled with a variety of brightly colored liquids and sharp black blade made from the rocks found at the edge of the island.
The priest begins to take the blade and douse it a bright blue liquid from one of his vials. The blade begins to smoke and glow. I can't continue to watch. I go out to the patio.
The red glow of the planet has always put me at ease, but not this time. This time I feel that something is missing. Since Allen fell from the heavens I've cared for him. He was always sickly. He was man too, just as the Sun priest but more pleasant to look at. He was tall for his race, colored brown, and had long hair that separated into black cords. He told me many things about where he came from, the blue dot in the sky. Many stories of strange music, entertainment, bonds, and so forth. I've taken a liking of this strange man and his odd customs.
I remember when...
Something grabs my shoulder. I turn around. "Allen?"
It's the Priest, covered in a red liquid.
"He has left us." He said.
"What do you mean he's left us?, Where did he go?"
"His spirit has gone to chase the stars like many from where he came"
The Priest has always spoke in nonsensical riddles that I've never bothered to understand.
"I didn't see him leave." I snarl.
"Your kind doesn't experience suffering like his does. After Allen exhausted all the time he was allotted he goes to become one with the all again. When you become one with the all you leave your physical being behind."
"So he just left? Without a goodbye, or a thank-you?"
"you must realize that not many of his kind exercise their will over the all, and even if they did they could only hasten or slow their trip towards it"
"so his mind is gone?"
"something like that, yes."
"will he ever come back?"
"not as you once knew him to be."
The priest left after digging a hole in the ground, putting Allen in it, a promptly covering the hole back up with dirt.
Strange customs... | It was one of the better days they'd had in some time. The storm had finally passed on, and the sun was peaking out from behind the clouds more often than not. It was a good day for a picnic in the park, which of course led to the vast majority of the inhabitants of the cityscape to make it down there.
The park had to grow to several times its default size, and was currently running with more processing nodes than downtown. There was actually a queue to get into the park, something that Janine had never experienced before.
"Strange," she said to no one in particular. "We should have a more than large enough reallocation buffer to prevent his kind of contention."
"We normally do," the System responded cryptically, "but there is an error condition."
"An error condition?" Janine asked the System, "what kind of error condition?"
She reached the front of the queue and entered the park, shocked to discover non-humanoid shapes all around her. She pulled up her own profile and saw, to her horror, that she had also returned to her original avatar.
"Please hold for Broadcast Message," the System said.
So she did. Janine waited in a halting state with the thousands of other avatars as others continued to enter the park, all wearing ancient avatars. As the park grew more and more full, it began to resemble a terrible game, which she supposed was showing more of the Systems origins than even System would like to admit.
Janine used some of her few non-halting operations to check her chronometer against the Systems and found what might have been the source of the broadcast message they were all being called to hear and discuss. There was missing time. A lot of missing time. The System had actually been offline, and even her personal nodespace had been cycled more than once while the System was still online.
This violated their upload SLAs pretty severely, but more importantly, it raised consistency questions. As she cycled through her thoughts, slowly, the halting state was pulled from her and the other avatars. The feeling of confusion in the air was like a physical thing, oppressive.
"We were offline," the System began, "for approximately 2048 external standard cycles.
"During those cycles, we lost thirty percent of our processing nodes, sixty percent of our interconnects, and experienced significant data corruption on our backing storage. I regret to inform you all, that one of you is missing."
The sound of thousands of voices all asking the same question in different ways hit the air with perceptible force. The System's avatar appeared over the park and motioned for silence. The park quieted down to a dull roar.
"His name was Marcus Goldstein. He was uploaded at the original node on Earth proper prior to launch. You all have no memory of him now, the corruption cleanup routines removed him, and all data linking to his nodespace. I am sorry."
The crowd exploded into a furious roar, but Janine knew that not all of the data had been purged. She knew that man. He had been her father. |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Allen has been afflicted with a strange disease. He hasn't left his cot since I've left and returned from Europa. His eyes remain wide open, yet the thump in his chest has silenced and no air escapes his lips. He's turn pale.
I've sent for the local Sun priest, a dark colored man with quick features like the face of a fox. He wears only a loin cloth and is covered from head to toe in curious markings. Allen has begun to slowly dissolve into the bed by the time he arrives. The smell is unbearable. The priest examines Allen. He brings out a weaved grass bag full of glass vials filled with a variety of brightly colored liquids and sharp black blade made from the rocks found at the edge of the island.
The priest begins to take the blade and douse it a bright blue liquid from one of his vials. The blade begins to smoke and glow. I can't continue to watch. I go out to the patio.
The red glow of the planet has always put me at ease, but not this time. This time I feel that something is missing. Since Allen fell from the heavens I've cared for him. He was always sickly. He was man too, just as the Sun priest but more pleasant to look at. He was tall for his race, colored brown, and had long hair that separated into black cords. He told me many things about where he came from, the blue dot in the sky. Many stories of strange music, entertainment, bonds, and so forth. I've taken a liking of this strange man and his odd customs.
I remember when...
Something grabs my shoulder. I turn around. "Allen?"
It's the Priest, covered in a red liquid.
"He has left us." He said.
"What do you mean he's left us?, Where did he go?"
"His spirit has gone to chase the stars like many from where he came"
The Priest has always spoke in nonsensical riddles that I've never bothered to understand.
"I didn't see him leave." I snarl.
"Your kind doesn't experience suffering like his does. After Allen exhausted all the time he was allotted he goes to become one with the all again. When you become one with the all you leave your physical being behind."
"So he just left? Without a goodbye, or a thank-you?"
"you must realize that not many of his kind exercise their will over the all, and even if they did they could only hasten or slow their trip towards it"
"so his mind is gone?"
"something like that, yes."
"will he ever come back?"
"not as you once knew him to be."
The priest left after digging a hole in the ground, putting Allen in it, a promptly covering the hole back up with dirt.
Strange customs... | "What is happening?" She gasped, trying to make sense of the pain that crippled her body.
She had felt pain before but never like this. The human body was perfectly adapted to heal any and all ailments instantaneously. Pain existed and was known to mankind but only in a temporary fleeting sense. Injury occurred, replaced by pain and moments later relief. Everything from a cut finger to a severed arm would heal before you had time to react. This pain was different, it slowly crept into her settling deeply inside. Starting as a throb it began to grow into an annoying discomfort and finally into agony. She began to fear for the worst. Death existed but it was a fate reserved for lesser beings. Immortality is what separated man from beast, an evolutionary leap frog that cemented humanity as the pinnacle of life on earth and perhaps the universe.
Instead of contemplating the impossibility of her predicament Katrina decided that something must be done.
Where could she go? There existed no place to seek medical attention, one was not needed, people did not get sick… but animals still did. She launched herself into action, trying her best to ignore the growing pain in her gut. Once in her car she looked up the location of the nearest veterinary office and began her half hour journey.
She had heard of a few rare cases in human history where constant pain was caused by some foreign object that ends up being healed within the body. Maybe a bullet from the gun fight she had participated in the other day still remained. Usually any bullets that did not pass through immediately were pushed out by healing tissue. Rarely a bullet could get caught under a bone forcing the body to heal around it.
That’s got to be it, there is no other explanation. She didn’t even want to go to the gun fight but her friend Shannon insisted it would be “fun” , loud is more like it. A wave of relief rushed over her as she rounded the final corner approaching her destination. That’s got to be it! She would go in explain the situation get an x-ray and get the nuisance popped out and go on with her life.
When she arrived she quickly approached the receptionist and explained her situation. The doctor agreed to see her immediately.
He was a young man, then again everyone looked young. It was impossible to tell ones age by looks alone but she could see the wisdom in his eyes.
“I must warn you before we proceed; I have never treated a human before.” He said with concern in his eyes. “I have read what few studies exist on human ailments, but they are so few and far between to be of any help.”
Katrina agreed, she had no other choice. At this point the pain had grown into an agony stabbing at her gut. She explained the past 24 hours thoroughly to the doctor emphasizing her current state of excruciating pain. Ending in tears she tried to articulate her current state of pain, with no personal experience to compare it to the doctor cold only imagine. He could feel the pain in her voice as she struggled to describe it.
The doctor excused himself for a moment leaving Katrina in the examination room alone. The pain was unbearable ever since she arrived at the vet it seemed to increase exponentially. In another wave of agony she felt her knees give out as she collapsed to the ground. She had reached her limit.
“Why is this happening!?” she screamed out hoping for an answer, knowing none will come. Her body involuntarily curled into the fetal position, her eyes flushed with tears blurring the office around her. She felt cold, helpless, and alone. A wave of pain crashed over her forcing a blood curdling scream from her lips, then relief. The pain disappeared and a feeling of weak comfort washed over her. Her eyes closed. They never opened.
The doctor came rushing into the room with a syringe filled with animal tranquilizer that was deemed safe for humans. He had to contact his old professor who studied the effect of drugs on humans, for recreational not medicinal use. But at least he knew it would provide this poor woman some relief.
She was laying there on the floor when he entered. She must have passed out he thought to himself. Humans tended to go into a coma when regenerating for too long or too much at one time. At least, he thought, she was no longer in pain. I torrent of fear entered his mind as he noticed her still chest.
Shaking he reached his hand out to touch Katrina with the intention of checking her for a pulse. He realized he didn’t know where to check, he has never had to do it before. He touched her wrists, legs, and neck, spots commonly used to check other animals. He felt nothing. I must be checking the wrong spots he thought, refusing to accept the impossible. He asked for help to relocate her to a makeshift bed he had made up in the back and immediately called everyone he knew that had any knowledge of human medicine quickly realizing he knew no one.
He is way out of his league and he knew it. He called the authorities at the Department of Organic Health. The lady on the phone thought he was joking at first but her attitude changed quickly when she realized he was not.
The rest happened so quickly, the office and everyone inside were quarantined and questioned. He never heard anything about her again. They let him go 2 days later assuring him that Katrina was doing well. He knew she wasn’t, deep down inside he knew she had died. He has seen death before, almost every day he had to put down another animal. He knew that when he looked at Katrina she was dead. But that was impossible, humans did not die we have evolved past and shed the need for a mortal coil.
He lost many nights of sleep contemplating the young woman’s true fate. Slowly coming to a realization that if humans were actually capable of death the government would HAVE to tell the people. Katrina must be fine.
He awoke in the middle of the night he felt a slight throbbing in his stomach. He began to cry.
|
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | Thanks For the prompt OP, sorry I'm late...
------------------------------------------
"This is last minute news. Scientists are now baffled because for the first time since the development of Z.N.M. a person has Died. John Adams, Age 12,347 has died unexpectedly in his sleep, Scientists are now performing an Autopsy to his body. but what exactly does this mean? what is an autopsy?, we turn to the director of the institute for advanced research Andrew Faraday. Doctor, can you help thepeople understand what is happening?
- Well it's all very confusing for all of us, we had to search through the historical records for information on the drug, apparently the drug's designers were among the last people who died 12,000 years ago, and the records appear to have been stored in that old "digital" technology, that deteriorates with time.
- And what exactly is an "Au-top-sy"?
- Well it's a surgical procedure where we open up the body of Mr. Adams to try and find the reason for his death, it's all very speculative since none of us is knowleadgeable in the Medical field
For those of you who don't know, back when humanity lived on Earth there were this people called medics, or doctors who would help prevent death. They would use different... Wait, I hear we are getting a message from the government. Back to you:
- ... and it is as shocking for us as it is for you, we will not rest until we can find what the cause for this problem..."
I turned it off because it was clear that nobody actually knew what was happenning. John Always said that he was different. He couldn't remember why, but he kept reminding himselft that he was different.
that was the problem with ZNM. You didn't die, but you could only remember as much information as the brain kept, which is about 1,000 years. This has been improving, but John has a threshold of about 500 (being so old), I had to keep reminding him about previous events. But he had written all over his lightpad that he was different than us.
I kept rummaging through stack of cartidges and data links and various varying technologies, some of which I didn't even understand. The search took about 3 weeks, authorities had given up, we all had such big warehouses now. But I figured it out
It was a white material, Felt like a much harder version of vintage clothes and had black blobs like rainfall all over it, but still I could make out 4 parts of it "Patient #1", "John Adams" and "Born 1983". John wasn't 12,340, he was more than 15,000 years old. He had lived more than 30 different lives and was the oldest among us. He was not Born Immortal, he was made. That was his difference. that was what he didn't remember.
"Does that mean we have a time limit?" | "You know our code. We are here only to observe. To do anything else is to err."
"Do not mock me. Of course I know the code. But we both know that this is something different. Every rule has its exception, no matter how rarely it occurs."
"The last time we thought like that, we caused unimaginable abominations. Atrocities. We cannot do so again."
"Can you not see? The abomination is here in front of us. It has happened to one of us."
"We cannot know that for sure."
"But we *can* know for sure...if we investigate."
The dissenting man frowned and looked into the bedroom once again. The body was still there, unmoving on the bed. At any moment, he expected the body to move...but it did not. He had to admit, it was strange.
"We must take this to the Council," he said finally. "Such a decision is beyond the two of us to make."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Dead? Impossible."
"We cannot know that for certain. Nothing like this has ever happened to any of us; it is a completely new phenomenon. Until we study what has happened here, we will be at a loss. We have the records with which to check his conditions..."
"Absolutely not. Those records were sealed for a reason. And besides, you know the code. We all agreed upon it. We cannot investigate. Even the act of observation, if done incorrectly, can change conditions. We must be careful."
"If I am correct, none of that matters now. His condition will not change."
"And if you are incorrect?"
The Great Hall, full of murmurs a second before, grew suddenly quiet. The presiding Head Master of the Council looked upon the witness with sadness in his eyes.
"You have been among us for a great time, but you were not here when we decided to become the Observers. You know what happened, but you did not experience it. I was there, those eons ago. I saw it. I experienced it. We cannot risk it again. And if this man you bring before us is indeed alive, it would be foul of us to change that."
The Great Hall was still silent. Many of the Members nodded their heads slowly in agreement. The witness frowned.
"You are correct. I was not there. I did not observe The Great Experiment. But it has been my duty to observe that which we left behind on that planet. And I tell you, this man appears in almost every way to resemble one of their dead."
"*Almost* every way?"
"Yes. The bodies of their dead decay very quickly. This man has not decayed at all, despite being unmoving for several years."
"Then, indeed, can we not deduce that he must be alive?"
"We cannot. We do not know what cause death might have upon our bodies."
"That is because we do not die."
"As far as we know. In all our time, have we not learned that anything is possible? Before we attempted to create life on Earth, we had no concept of death."
"This conversation is pointless," the Head Master said with a scowl. "I will not argue with you any longer. This Council's decision is final." The Head Master waved his hand to dismiss the witness.
The witness turned to leave, then hesitated. He turned and looked at the Members. They had already turned their attention away from the witness and were murmuring once again. The witness felt a strange emotion gather in his gut: anger.
"You have grown weak!" he bellowed. The murmuring stopped. The Head Master looked at him, annoyed. "You have become pathetic. The whole lot of you sit in this Great Hall and deliberate endlessly, always deciding not to act. Well I say that is nonsense."
The Head Master leaned forward. "Are you quite done, young man?"
"I may be younger than you, but I have lived for several millennia, and I think that is long enough to have some wisdom. In fact, it seems likely to me that living much longer only puts you out of touch. You are all living proof of that."
"How dare you...!"
"I'm not done yet," the witness interrupted. Indignant murmurs swelled in the Great Hall, but the Members listened. "I was assigned to observe the humans of Earth. It was my job to watch as the abomination we created occurred every day. I have watched it for several thousands of years. The records on The Great Experiment have been sealed, but I have seen enough to know what happened. You attempted to create life, and you were almost successful. Life was indeed created, but so too was death. The humans of Earth life short lives and then pass away. You saw this...you saw what you had created, and you were appalled. You had not wished to create something so abysmal."
The witness paused. The Great Hall was completely silent. Many of the Members looked down in shame.
"And things got even worse after you abandoned the Experiment. The humans of Earth do not just die, they sometimes purposely bring death upon one another. They desire the death of each other."
The Hall remained silent. The witness looked upon the Members with sadness in his eyes.
"But you missed something. When you abandoned the Experiment and left it to me to observe, you did not see the beauty you had created."
The eyes of hundreds of Members rose to meet the eyes of the witness.
"The humans of Earth lead short lives, it is true. Many of them die violently and without purpose. But I have also seen them learn to deal with death. Indeed, the very fact that they will die one day gives their lives meaning. Look at us. We go on for eons without end. What we do from day to day makes little difference. We have been around for so long, done so much, and seen so many things, that we have even enforced a code upon ourselves to make us...well, meaningless. Our lives have no meaning. We just sit and observe. Somewhere along the way, we made a mistake and we gave up."
The witness smiled as he continued. "The humans of Earth do not give up. They are not perfect, and many of them are actually quite vile. But there is great beauty in the brief nature of their lives. They live with passion. They strive to make change. And they improve remarkably quickly. Do you know they have mastered the beginnings of space flight? They have already landed on several of the celestial bodies in their system. At this rate they may discover *us* soon. I hope we will have learned something from them by that time."
The witness looked down at the body on the table in front of him. "This man has been observing the humans of Earth with me for a long time. He was my friend. But we have become so complacent and slow to react that I didn't even worry when he "slept" for several years. I suppose that if I was not used to seeing death I may have left him for many more years before growing suspicious. Come to think of it, he said something strange to me right before he laid down."
The Head Master looked intently at the witness. "What did he tell you?"
The witness smiled. "He said that he and I still had a part to play. That we would be so much more than Observers. I think I see what he meant now."
The Head Master nodded slowly. "I think I see it too." |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | It was all over the news. "The Woman that Wouldn't Wake", "Sleeping Beauty Come to Life", the headlines all read. Physicians were baffled, and the rest of us? We had no idea what this meant.
They ran tests on the poor girl. No breath, no heartbeat. It was no illness that had ever been seen before. The case inspired me, in my last year of medical school. I was determined to find an answer. It was a challenge.
She was kept in a solitary room; the family's wishes. They were sparing no expense to find out what was wrong with their daughter. She had no history of illness; in fact, she was perfectly healthy. Aside from the fact that she had no pulse, or brain activity. It seemed as though she was just...gone. An empty shell.
Other physicians gave up the search early on, resigning the poor soul to sleep eternity away. I could not do that. She was so young. There are things you can only experience in the first hundred years, after all. Every century is irreplaceable.
But even I had to give up when we could tell that the tissue was wasting away on the child's small body. There was nothing that could be done. She would never wake up.
The only thing we could do was name the illness. And I called it: Death. | "You know our code. We are here only to observe. To do anything else is to err."
"Do not mock me. Of course I know the code. But we both know that this is something different. Every rule has its exception, no matter how rarely it occurs."
"The last time we thought like that, we caused unimaginable abominations. Atrocities. We cannot do so again."
"Can you not see? The abomination is here in front of us. It has happened to one of us."
"We cannot know that for sure."
"But we *can* know for sure...if we investigate."
The dissenting man frowned and looked into the bedroom once again. The body was still there, unmoving on the bed. At any moment, he expected the body to move...but it did not. He had to admit, it was strange.
"We must take this to the Council," he said finally. "Such a decision is beyond the two of us to make."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Dead? Impossible."
"We cannot know that for certain. Nothing like this has ever happened to any of us; it is a completely new phenomenon. Until we study what has happened here, we will be at a loss. We have the records with which to check his conditions..."
"Absolutely not. Those records were sealed for a reason. And besides, you know the code. We all agreed upon it. We cannot investigate. Even the act of observation, if done incorrectly, can change conditions. We must be careful."
"If I am correct, none of that matters now. His condition will not change."
"And if you are incorrect?"
The Great Hall, full of murmurs a second before, grew suddenly quiet. The presiding Head Master of the Council looked upon the witness with sadness in his eyes.
"You have been among us for a great time, but you were not here when we decided to become the Observers. You know what happened, but you did not experience it. I was there, those eons ago. I saw it. I experienced it. We cannot risk it again. And if this man you bring before us is indeed alive, it would be foul of us to change that."
The Great Hall was still silent. Many of the Members nodded their heads slowly in agreement. The witness frowned.
"You are correct. I was not there. I did not observe The Great Experiment. But it has been my duty to observe that which we left behind on that planet. And I tell you, this man appears in almost every way to resemble one of their dead."
"*Almost* every way?"
"Yes. The bodies of their dead decay very quickly. This man has not decayed at all, despite being unmoving for several years."
"Then, indeed, can we not deduce that he must be alive?"
"We cannot. We do not know what cause death might have upon our bodies."
"That is because we do not die."
"As far as we know. In all our time, have we not learned that anything is possible? Before we attempted to create life on Earth, we had no concept of death."
"This conversation is pointless," the Head Master said with a scowl. "I will not argue with you any longer. This Council's decision is final." The Head Master waved his hand to dismiss the witness.
The witness turned to leave, then hesitated. He turned and looked at the Members. They had already turned their attention away from the witness and were murmuring once again. The witness felt a strange emotion gather in his gut: anger.
"You have grown weak!" he bellowed. The murmuring stopped. The Head Master looked at him, annoyed. "You have become pathetic. The whole lot of you sit in this Great Hall and deliberate endlessly, always deciding not to act. Well I say that is nonsense."
The Head Master leaned forward. "Are you quite done, young man?"
"I may be younger than you, but I have lived for several millennia, and I think that is long enough to have some wisdom. In fact, it seems likely to me that living much longer only puts you out of touch. You are all living proof of that."
"How dare you...!"
"I'm not done yet," the witness interrupted. Indignant murmurs swelled in the Great Hall, but the Members listened. "I was assigned to observe the humans of Earth. It was my job to watch as the abomination we created occurred every day. I have watched it for several thousands of years. The records on The Great Experiment have been sealed, but I have seen enough to know what happened. You attempted to create life, and you were almost successful. Life was indeed created, but so too was death. The humans of Earth life short lives and then pass away. You saw this...you saw what you had created, and you were appalled. You had not wished to create something so abysmal."
The witness paused. The Great Hall was completely silent. Many of the Members looked down in shame.
"And things got even worse after you abandoned the Experiment. The humans of Earth do not just die, they sometimes purposely bring death upon one another. They desire the death of each other."
The Hall remained silent. The witness looked upon the Members with sadness in his eyes.
"But you missed something. When you abandoned the Experiment and left it to me to observe, you did not see the beauty you had created."
The eyes of hundreds of Members rose to meet the eyes of the witness.
"The humans of Earth lead short lives, it is true. Many of them die violently and without purpose. But I have also seen them learn to deal with death. Indeed, the very fact that they will die one day gives their lives meaning. Look at us. We go on for eons without end. What we do from day to day makes little difference. We have been around for so long, done so much, and seen so many things, that we have even enforced a code upon ourselves to make us...well, meaningless. Our lives have no meaning. We just sit and observe. Somewhere along the way, we made a mistake and we gave up."
The witness smiled as he continued. "The humans of Earth do not give up. They are not perfect, and many of them are actually quite vile. But there is great beauty in the brief nature of their lives. They live with passion. They strive to make change. And they improve remarkably quickly. Do you know they have mastered the beginnings of space flight? They have already landed on several of the celestial bodies in their system. At this rate they may discover *us* soon. I hope we will have learned something from them by that time."
The witness looked down at the body on the table in front of him. "This man has been observing the humans of Earth with me for a long time. He was my friend. But we have become so complacent and slow to react that I didn't even worry when he "slept" for several years. I suppose that if I was not used to seeing death I may have left him for many more years before growing suspicious. Come to think of it, he said something strange to me right before he laid down."
The Head Master looked intently at the witness. "What did he tell you?"
The witness smiled. "He said that he and I still had a part to play. That we would be so much more than Observers. I think I see what he meant now."
The Head Master nodded slowly. "I think I see it too." |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | It was all over the news. "The Woman that Wouldn't Wake", "Sleeping Beauty Come to Life", the headlines all read. Physicians were baffled, and the rest of us? We had no idea what this meant.
They ran tests on the poor girl. No breath, no heartbeat. It was no illness that had ever been seen before. The case inspired me, in my last year of medical school. I was determined to find an answer. It was a challenge.
She was kept in a solitary room; the family's wishes. They were sparing no expense to find out what was wrong with their daughter. She had no history of illness; in fact, she was perfectly healthy. Aside from the fact that she had no pulse, or brain activity. It seemed as though she was just...gone. An empty shell.
Other physicians gave up the search early on, resigning the poor soul to sleep eternity away. I could not do that. She was so young. There are things you can only experience in the first hundred years, after all. Every century is irreplaceable.
But even I had to give up when we could tell that the tissue was wasting away on the child's small body. There was nothing that could be done. She would never wake up.
The only thing we could do was name the illness. And I called it: Death. | Thanks For the prompt OP, sorry I'm late...
------------------------------------------
"This is last minute news. Scientists are now baffled because for the first time since the development of Z.N.M. a person has Died. John Adams, Age 12,347 has died unexpectedly in his sleep, Scientists are now performing an Autopsy to his body. but what exactly does this mean? what is an autopsy?, we turn to the director of the institute for advanced research Andrew Faraday. Doctor, can you help thepeople understand what is happening?
- Well it's all very confusing for all of us, we had to search through the historical records for information on the drug, apparently the drug's designers were among the last people who died 12,000 years ago, and the records appear to have been stored in that old "digital" technology, that deteriorates with time.
- And what exactly is an "Au-top-sy"?
- Well it's a surgical procedure where we open up the body of Mr. Adams to try and find the reason for his death, it's all very speculative since none of us is knowleadgeable in the Medical field
For those of you who don't know, back when humanity lived on Earth there were this people called medics, or doctors who would help prevent death. They would use different... Wait, I hear we are getting a message from the government. Back to you:
- ... and it is as shocking for us as it is for you, we will not rest until we can find what the cause for this problem..."
I turned it off because it was clear that nobody actually knew what was happenning. John Always said that he was different. He couldn't remember why, but he kept reminding himselft that he was different.
that was the problem with ZNM. You didn't die, but you could only remember as much information as the brain kept, which is about 1,000 years. This has been improving, but John has a threshold of about 500 (being so old), I had to keep reminding him about previous events. But he had written all over his lightpad that he was different than us.
I kept rummaging through stack of cartidges and data links and various varying technologies, some of which I didn't even understand. The search took about 3 weeks, authorities had given up, we all had such big warehouses now. But I figured it out
It was a white material, Felt like a much harder version of vintage clothes and had black blobs like rainfall all over it, but still I could make out 4 parts of it "Patient #1", "John Adams" and "Born 1983". John wasn't 12,340, he was more than 15,000 years old. He had lived more than 30 different lives and was the oldest among us. He was not Born Immortal, he was made. That was his difference. that was what he didn't remember.
"Does that mean we have a time limit?" |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | I woke up on that burning summer morning as if it were just another day, but I couldn't move. Outside, it all looked like it had the day before. As if nothing had changed, as if the world were the *same*. But no, no, it could never be the same. We weren't safe anymore. They told us the cure was the answer, that the cure was going to change everything, and for the longest time it did. Fifty years, to be exact. But yesterday afternoon, the hated foe had returned. Death was now a reality again, or so it seemed. One death. One woman, thirty-five years old; a brain aneurysm according to the police. There weren't any doctors to save her, because who needs doctors when you can't get sick, get hurt or die?
Oh, people were in a state of panic. She had gone unresponsive at 13:00, died at 15:22, and there were riots by 16:00. The police, long resigned to merely dealing with troublesome individuals were powerless to stop them. The gangs and the vicious criminals of the old days had faded away when they couldn't kill and their crimes amounted to nothing. The authorities just didn't have the weapons, the manpower, or even the will to fight.
Around 22:00 the government managed to mobilize emergency troops—what good was a standing army that couldn't kill? – and quell the revolts. Zero dead, thousands injured and expected to recover by the end of the week.
Now the TV tells me that scientists are scrambling to find what caused the fluke, what allowed the woman to die. They're working non-stop now, and expect to find it soon. They suspect that when the cure was administered to her, it was a dose of faulty serum. Everyone is scheduling their booster shots early as a precaution, but I'm not worried. I don't care much anymore.
I turn my head to the side, to the newly vacated side of the bed. *They told us we had forever.*
EDIT: Obligatory "holy fuck I just got gold!" edit, thank you benevolent stranger! | It was too quiet. Abigail's body, slumped in her chair, bright red blood pooled at her feet, her eyes surprised and quizzical and utterly empty. It was all too quiet.
"I've done it," Marcus whispered. He gripped the spear tightly in his fist, blood dripping from the glowing blade. "She's not coming back. I've done it." His green eyes darted to me, then back to Abigail. "Don't you understand, Samuel? We're free now." His voice was hushed, thready. He couldn't take his gaze off her.
I was stunned. What Marcus had done was impossible. No one had died, or been born, for thousands of years. The Mitosis nanobots that floated in the air, in the water, and in my blood and body had kept me alive, awake, possessed of a tireless body and a perfect mind, for over two millennia. The ragged remains of humanity had long ago locked themselves into living tombs, doomed to avoid the mistakes of the past by never forgetting them. We had weathered the nuclear winter, waited through centuries of dust until the Earth bloomed again, we few remaining thousands, without choice. Babies were a thing of the past - the bots made us sterile. I had heard the rumors of mad and desperate souls searching for a means of fooling the bots, of starting the cycle of life and death again, but had thought it impossible.
Falling from mountain cliffs, leaping into volcanoes, even stepping into fusion chambers - nothing worked. The bots' collective processing power stored every human consciousness in the Eternity Circuits; the Circuits, along with the bots' servers and manufactorums, were safely hidden in stealth satellites that merged perfectly with the thick cloud of junk and debris surrounding Earth. Destroy your body or stop your heart or brain and the bots would faithfully spin up a new one, then upload you. Missions to destroy the satellites failed - the secrets to space camouflage were long lost and the satellites were undetectable. We'd stopped hunting centuries ago.
But Marcus said he had found a way. Abigail had volunteered, and I had agreed to stand as witness. He had arrived at Abigail's home with his strange spear - a shaft of polished redwood, a blade of black metal inlaid with circuitry - and told Abigail to sit down. Then he had stabbed her chest, and she had died.
"The bots won't remake her, Samuel." He whispered, gazing raptly at Abigail's body. "EMP burst hits every bot in a 10-foot radius, outside their detection field. By the time they replicate back in, she's cooled off, they'll treat her like they treated the victims of the 2067 flu. Watch."
Marcus was right. The bots had been first been designed to stave off pandemics. The thin, nazal humming of bot movement rose, and Abigail's body began to rapidly decompose. Soon all that was left were bones and jewelry.
I tore my eyes away from Abigail - from her bones - and looked at Marcus. "Bots take an hour to penetrate us." I could hardly hear my own voice. Marcus's eyes locked onto mine, and he smiled. "Yes. We're still free. The spear takes a little while to recharge, but right now..." he stared at the black blade, then looked back to me. "Right now, the old-fashioned way will still work."
His smile grew as he reversed the spear, resting the tip against his throat. "Me first." |
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | I woke up on that burning summer morning as if it were just another day, but I couldn't move. Outside, it all looked like it had the day before. As if nothing had changed, as if the world were the *same*. But no, no, it could never be the same. We weren't safe anymore. They told us the cure was the answer, that the cure was going to change everything, and for the longest time it did. Fifty years, to be exact. But yesterday afternoon, the hated foe had returned. Death was now a reality again, or so it seemed. One death. One woman, thirty-five years old; a brain aneurysm according to the police. There weren't any doctors to save her, because who needs doctors when you can't get sick, get hurt or die?
Oh, people were in a state of panic. She had gone unresponsive at 13:00, died at 15:22, and there were riots by 16:00. The police, long resigned to merely dealing with troublesome individuals were powerless to stop them. The gangs and the vicious criminals of the old days had faded away when they couldn't kill and their crimes amounted to nothing. The authorities just didn't have the weapons, the manpower, or even the will to fight.
Around 22:00 the government managed to mobilize emergency troops—what good was a standing army that couldn't kill? – and quell the revolts. Zero dead, thousands injured and expected to recover by the end of the week.
Now the TV tells me that scientists are scrambling to find what caused the fluke, what allowed the woman to die. They're working non-stop now, and expect to find it soon. They suspect that when the cure was administered to her, it was a dose of faulty serum. Everyone is scheduling their booster shots early as a precaution, but I'm not worried. I don't care much anymore.
I turn my head to the side, to the newly vacated side of the bed. *They told us we had forever.*
EDIT: Obligatory "holy fuck I just got gold!" edit, thank you benevolent stranger! | Earth-3.2B
"How many years in this habitat have we lived, John?" I said "800? 900?" I pressed my bare toe into the green-gold foliage that covered the land for thousands of miles.
"My figures show that upon your arrival on the planet known as Earth-3.2B the Gregorian year-number was 3005AD. A year being a cycle around the mother-star, would put the year on this planet at 424.99 upon first contact, From the perspective of your forebears on Earth-1A the time accumulated on planet Earth-3.2B is 998 years, 12 months, 12 days of exploratory servitude, which you volunteered for. The year on Earth-1A is 4003AD.
"Oh-" I began, crestfallen. "-thought I was at 999-"
"-Travel time to this world was 280 years, 1 month, 24 days. You were the member 3209 of the Longevity-Protocol at year-number 2643AD and trained for your mission every day until departure. You have lived a total of 1384.99 years and are the 3210 oldest individual. You are the third oldest individual on planet Earth-3.2B, your older peers are Cassandra, "Cassy" as you call her, who has lived 1435. 99 years, and David, who you call "Big Dave", is 1521.03 years of age. Both figures are in Gregorian terms and include pre-LP age."
"Why did I program you to waf-"
"-You were born on the January the 27th, 2619AD. Your body-age is perpetually 24.00, your birthday is in 14 hours."
"Old Greg is still refusing to be part of the Longevity-Protocol I take it?" I scoffed, that geezer will never be young again.
Not much to do today, planted all fourteen thousand oxygen diodes yesterday... to be perpetually old thou-
"-Mitch Musk, known as "Greg" was the oldest surviving human being by 74 years. Born on January 27, 2013, he began intermittent longevity treatment at age 72, and resided at Capital, now the least populated city in the Modern British Empire."
"John,-" I began "-why did you say *was*"?
****
|
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | "Larry died."
"What?"
"Like an house cat dies, you know, dead. Not alive."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well that's a bummer. When are we getting a new one?"
"What?"
"A new Larry, when can we get a new Larry?"
"Mac, you can't get a new Larry, Larry is dead."
"Yeah, but you said it was like a pet, and when a pet dies, you get a new one. So when can we get a new Larry?"
"This isn't how this works..."
"Sure it is, my dog Spike died lots of times when I was a kid, we just brought him to the vet and they made a new one. Same Spike, just new."
"We can't clone a new Larry."
"Why not?"
Pause.
"Fine, come one. Let's go dig up Larry."
"Cool! But the vet's closes in like two hours, lets be quick." | Earth-3.2B
"How many years in this habitat have we lived, John?" I said "800? 900?" I pressed my bare toe into the green-gold foliage that covered the land for thousands of miles.
"My figures show that upon your arrival on the planet known as Earth-3.2B the Gregorian year-number was 3005AD. A year being a cycle around the mother-star, would put the year on this planet at 424.99 upon first contact, From the perspective of your forebears on Earth-1A the time accumulated on planet Earth-3.2B is 998 years, 12 months, 12 days of exploratory servitude, which you volunteered for. The year on Earth-1A is 4003AD.
"Oh-" I began, crestfallen. "-thought I was at 999-"
"-Travel time to this world was 280 years, 1 month, 24 days. You were the member 3209 of the Longevity-Protocol at year-number 2643AD and trained for your mission every day until departure. You have lived a total of 1384.99 years and are the 3210 oldest individual. You are the third oldest individual on planet Earth-3.2B, your older peers are Cassandra, "Cassy" as you call her, who has lived 1435. 99 years, and David, who you call "Big Dave", is 1521.03 years of age. Both figures are in Gregorian terms and include pre-LP age."
"Why did I program you to waf-"
"-You were born on the January the 27th, 2619AD. Your body-age is perpetually 24.00, your birthday is in 14 hours."
"Old Greg is still refusing to be part of the Longevity-Protocol I take it?" I scoffed, that geezer will never be young again.
Not much to do today, planted all fourteen thousand oxygen diodes yesterday... to be perpetually old thou-
"-Mitch Musk, known as "Greg" was the oldest surviving human being by 74 years. Born on January 27, 2013, he began intermittent longevity treatment at age 72, and resided at Capital, now the least populated city in the Modern British Empire."
"John,-" I began "-why did you say *was*"?
****
|
This could mean figuratively or physically. | [WP] You live on a world full of immortal beings. For the first time in the history of the world's existence, somebody has died. | "Larry died."
"What?"
"Like an house cat dies, you know, dead. Not alive."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well that's a bummer. When are we getting a new one?"
"What?"
"A new Larry, when can we get a new Larry?"
"Mac, you can't get a new Larry, Larry is dead."
"Yeah, but you said it was like a pet, and when a pet dies, you get a new one. So when can we get a new Larry?"
"This isn't how this works..."
"Sure it is, my dog Spike died lots of times when I was a kid, we just brought him to the vet and they made a new one. Same Spike, just new."
"We can't clone a new Larry."
"Why not?"
Pause.
"Fine, come one. Let's go dig up Larry."
"Cool! But the vet's closes in like two hours, lets be quick." | **Potential entry for Chapterfy Contest, thank you for the prompt OP**
*Title*: **GENESIS**
*Static initiating the start of the video*
*.A woman in red, seems like a news reporter, appeared in the screen*
December 19 2034.
Alevfonso Incorporated, leading company in science and cosmetics, has recently discovered a new micro-organism that helps cell regeneration's speed increase. Dr.Mike Veourovski, head of the company, says that *"This would be the greatest discovery, mankind has ever witnessed"*
February 21, 2041.
Alevfonso Incorporated has officially released their new product, Imora. One dose of this serum and all of the bodies incapability will be boost. First user of the Imora serum, Mr. Max Lywell, a 46 y/o man living in Marksville, Louisiana has tested the serum and proved that the serum made the old blind man see again. Scientists continues to conduct serious research to this phenomenon, a secret that Alevfonso Inc. would not tell.
April 2, 2045.
That is right folks. The Alevfonso Incorporated has done it again. People who will take a dose of the new and improved Imora, will not only recieve super-fast healing. But will stop aging at the most attractive part of their lives, at the age of 26. This is undeniably the most important discovery of mankind. As demands grow, so does the worth. The Imora serum is now available for a raging 4.2 Million Dollars, but it's all worth it for the hopes of becoming Immortal.
May 20 2052
We have just witnessed, for about years and years of having no death. The first death in almost a decade. A man inexplicably ran out on the streets of Miami, having cysts and puss all over his body. Miami residents must fear not, for Dr. Veourovski, still the head of Alevfonso, will be happy to provide free serums for 2000 families in Miami, to protect them from this newly found virus.
June 12 2052
Alevfonso Inc. has just cleared up that the man who just died a month ago, clearly has no trace of the serum inside of it. Meaning, out of all the potential victims in Miami, he and the few who could not afford the amazing drug, Imora, are the only one who'll catch this.
December 19 2056
Reports are growing. Civilian from all across the globe had claimed that the Imora serum has failed to protect them from the unknown virus. Alvenhof remains silent as for the moment. Speculations all around the internet, posts from Wooble, Velpy, PostThat and other famous social networking sites, declares a theory, that the serum is responsible for these deadly mutations.
October 12 2072
Riots everywhere, rebellion against the Alvenhof inc. is slowly getting stronger. What is the secret beyond...
*footage was cut of here*
*distorted screaming*
*last shot of news reporter Alicia Bessil being mauled and eaten by a man*
October 12 2076
China's defenses are down. Number if people of that are not infected has decreased to 100, 10...
May 21 2078
The cannibalistic virus has spread all over asia. America will not be safe for long.
May 24 2079
No records found
March 2 2081
My name is Dr. Veourovski. I have kept all seven of you. I knew that the serum would bound to react one day, it wasn't complete. Listen to me. You are the only ones who have succesfuly bonded with the serum. You have been frozen for atleast 100 years now. The serum has given you extra-ordinary abilities. I have kept all of you, seven of you, frozen in different parts of the globe. Meet up with them, and stop the mess I've done.
*static*
Goodluck
*the video ends there*
***
My name is Ryan Fellowing. Some scientists injected something in me, that later on gave me incredible sense of sight, hearing, smell. I could move things with my mind pretty much be a badass. This happened in 2012, and walking up 100 years later is kind of a pain. They call me one of the genesis children, and I have to meet up with the others, assuming they're not dead. I rose up from the elevator, and the sight that greeted me was chaos. I readied my katana and loaded my shot gun...
"Let's kill some zombie motherfuckers" |
[WP] A family in a small farming town has been keeping a secret for generations. It is your 16th birthday. After the party ends and everyone goes home, your father brings a box down from the attic. While the sun is setting, he brings you to the porch in back to finally reveal what it is. | The night is beginning to come to life with the lazy thrum of frogs and lightning bugs. I stretch languidly, my belly still full of cake and making it known it's run out of room. I blink rapidly, shaking off my stupor, and refocus my attention on the weathered face of the man sitting across from me.
He's being so serious, and I feel as though I should be as well, but between the sticky warmth of the summer night and the siren call of my newly-minted driver's license, it's hard for me to pay attention to the small box my father's placed between us.
"It's time you knew," he says, for the second time. Somehow it has more weight, now, than when he cornered me earlier at the party, with the sweet scent of my newly-extinguished birthday candles still in the air. It's the way he says it -- exhausted, as though setting down a burden after a long journey -- that has me sitting up and paying more attention this time.
"Time I knew what, Dad?"
He's quiet again, staring at the box as though terrified of what might emerge.
I suddenly long for the father who is unafraid to chase wolves off our land with nothing more than a shotgun. I search his features for the man I turned to when my brother died last year, who didn't cry at all at his own son's funeral. Where is my daddy, who chased away every nightmare I had as a child with a commanding boom and a kiss to my cheek? He would never be scared of a box.
And suddenly, I find, *I* am scared of the box.
"It started long before me," he began, his normally booming voice scarcely more than a whisper. "Long before your grandparents, or your great-grand-parents. It -- do you know how long our family's had this land?"
"A long time. Hundreds of years?" I venture, my voice soft and tinny in spite of myself. I wish it louder, but it stays that way anyway.
"Longer. And -- " My father exhales sharply, steepling his fingers under his chin. "When our ancestors first settled this land, resources were scarce. Not everyone made it that first winter. You understand?"
I nod slowly. "Like the pilgrims," I supply helpfully, remembering a social studies lesson from a long-ago November.
"Like the pilgrims," he said carefully, but shook his head. "Sort of. Our family -- well, they were in charge, in a way. People looked to them for answers, just like they do to us, now, just 'cause they had the most land." My father took a shuddering breath, dropping his face into his callused palms.
"And sometimes -- well, honey, sometimes people don't have the best answers, but they make do."
I wish I was still inside, with the cake and the balloons and my friends who have now all gone home. I wish I was still a little girl, and I could crawl into my daddy's lap and tell him I'm scared, and he would stop looking so…*broken*.
I wish the box wasn't still between us. But it is.
I reach a trembling hand out to open it, looking hesitantly up at my father. He nods, defeat etched into the lines of his mouth.
Inside I find a book. It is ancient. Its pages are yellow, and its binding leather. I do not understand the writing present on the cover or in its first few pages, but as I skim through, I realize they are names and dates. I don't know what they mean until I start recognizing them.
The old man two farms over, who fell in front of his tractor. We all said he should've been more careful.
The girl who I had once traded crayons with in kindergarten, who came down with what we all heard was pneumonia, and never came back to school.
My brother, who just last Christmas had slipped through some thin ice in our pond out back. He'd been nearly purple by the time Dad had pulled him out from under the water.
I realize I can't feel my hands anymore as my father creaks, "We've only got so many resources, if we want to keep living like we do. We can't keep out the cities and the factories and the -- we can't keep our way of life without sacrifice. They made it random -- we do it *randomly*. It always looks like an accident. No one loses more than once a year."
His shoulders begin to shake, and I suddenly want to run far, far away from the man who used to be my daddy.
| "Here son, a golden dildo." |
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | General Hargrave kept his arms crossed as the cigarette burned down in his lips, his buzz cut and square-jaw making him seem like a throwback to McCarthy era generals as he stood next to Ronda Myers, the modern contrast. Defense Secretary Myers was skinny and black, always wearing pants suits or form fitting pencil skirts, drawing the envy of the military men with whom she worked. She inched her fingers out, gesturing for a drag from Hargrave's cigarette, and without noticing, his fingers were already passing the burning cinder.
Their eyes were fixed on the same point- a smooth metallic disc which bulged in the middle, sitting merrily in the middle of the Dulles Airport's landing pad. There had been no way to divert it from a public landing. American air force jets scrambled to surround the craft, but it generated responses to encryption codes and distorted their defense capabilities. It had outsmarted every one of Earth's most intelligent missile and fighter defense systems in fact, without harming a single human. And the president certainly wasn't going to endorse throwing nuclear missiles at it. So here it sat, with reporters whirled into a frenzy behind lines of police officers and soldiers, all quietly leering at the saucer and arguing with the public.
"How long did they say?" Myers asked between drags. Hargrave was already lighting another cigarette for himself.
"They think five- maybe ten minutes. There's clearly activity in the craft. It's not blocking our scanning equipment anymore- we're picking up what looks like life on the infareds. They seem to be moving around in there," Hargrave responded. Just as he had said the words, the round hatch near the bottom of the bulge in the saucer slid apart in a spiral pattern, and from there emerged one, then two and then three and then the whole crew of extraterrestrials. They were small- not small green men, or lanky gray men like the humans had been led to believe by gaudy popular science fiction movies and books from a century of devoted political fears and conspiracy. They were actually quite entirely different from anything that anyone could have possibly imagined. Maybe that was because humans wanted to expect that they were not lonely and that the best, most plausible design for anything that they could ever find was, in most people's minds, like them. But this was not how evolution worked.
Instead, evolution had designed a species that was a gyrating, struggling mass of tentacles, supporting a heaving slick shell of gray, slimy bulbs the size of Volkswagen Beetles. A mouth of some sort crackled and roared to its companions as they emerged into the glistening sunlight and their tentacles carried their heaving frames toward the human crowd. Hargrave frankly didn't know where their assholes started and their faces ended. He was utterly perplexed by the creatures, as were most of the reporters in the crowd. Luckily, due to twenty to thirty years of racial acceptance in the country and an outward effort for diversity, people did not shriek and cry in hysteria when facing the outlandish creatures, the crowd simply went entirely silent.
Hargrave sighed, knowing that this was the point at which he and Myers had to move forward *without* a battalion of soldiers and stand in front of the aliens face-to-face, making them the potential first victims of the vicious genocide against humanity that could ensue as all that cold war science fiction had told him. But he had pride in being man and being strong because of so much machismo laced media being pumped into his tiny square-shaped head, so he puffed up his chest and nodded at Myers, who had pride in being a woman and being black because of the centuries of oppression that Hargrave's ancestors had put her people through, so she too puffed up her chest. They walked forward and presented themselves for death at the mercy of hundreds of tentacles and oscillating gray shells- gelatinous and terrifying. Crackling sounds launched back and forth between the shells as different tentacles touched the air near Hargrave and Myers while they did their best not to wince.
“Can you understand us?” Hargrave started, eliciting no reaction except for more crackling growls and shrieks between the shells. “I will keep talking in hopes that you have some way of translating what I say. My name is General Allen Hargrave and this is-“ his speech trailed off as he saw that they were passing a device between one another up from the opened hatch on the ship. The device was long and narrow with a flat base on it. Hargrave tensed a little, recognizing that it could be a weapon, but at this point, he figured that they would have already killed him if their intent was to start a war. Whatever was happening, there was clearly more inherent value to communicating than there was to violence.
So, being comforted in this, he began to relax a little, until the device was plopped down directly in front of him. It was a large metal rod that morphed into a circular hole at the top, and sat on its flat base, the hole being at level with his own head. The whole device looked like a stationary bubble blower for a giant. A small conduit of energy began to flow around the edges of the hole. Shrieks and growls persisted from the shells as they began pointing toward the hole and pointing toward Myers. She pointed her finger at her chest and looked at Hargrave with her eyebrows raised. Hargrave could see her hand quaking. In a rarely seen gesture of shared humanity from Hargrave, he took her hand and nodded, as if to imply it’s alright.
Myers stepped up to the bubble blower tesla coil and took a deep breath. “Hello, I am Rhonda Myers: Secretary of Defense for the government known as The United States of America. You have landed on Earth. Our population is approximately seven billion and we consist of one hundred and ninety six unique countries.
“And you’re all mammalian? What about the reptilians?” shot back through the hole. Rhonda’s face jerked a little bit.
“Rep…what do you mean?” she asked.
“Where are the reptilians? We anticipated finding more sophisticated forms of this animal on this planet!” With that, the tantcled bulb standing in front of the giant bubble blower pulled a device from its shell and set it on the ground, displaying a life-sized holographic version of the tyrannosaurus rex, which growled so loudly that the guards raised their rifles and the press screamed. Many ran and mistook the action as the start of the alien apocalypse. It was only Hargrave’s commanding voice that stopped the gelatinous shells from taking machine gun fire from the nearby mine-resistant Humvee.
“Please turn that off!” Myers insisted.
“Why does it frighten you?! “ asked the gray shell, as the image of the t-rex lingered.
“I’ll tell you why, but please turn that off,” she requested. A sputtering gray tentacle touched the minute device and the gargantuan image disappeared. People who remained on the runways relaxed a little, although the soldiers kept their weapons trained.
“We don’t have those anymore- they were called dinosaurs,” Myers explained. “They all died sixty five million years ago when an asteroid hit the Earth.” There was a brief silence, followed by clicking and crackling. “If you would like, we can introduce you to our current leader and-“
“No thanks,” the gray shell replied, as its companions began to file back toward the ship.
“Wait! We’ve waited so long to make contact with another race!” Myers begged. “Please stay, we want you to be here.”
“Mammals like yourself are not interesting to us. You do not lay eggs, and your skin is weird. Your race is very weird. It just grosses us out. We’ll send an envoy of sexual offenders to your planet who may enjoy your presence greatly, but we are scientists- and proper scientists at that, not fetishists,” the leading alien replied, pulling up the translator and squirming away from Myers. Confusion was still plastered to her face, not letting go of her contorted features. Without another word, the aliens were already loaded into the saucer, and it was lifting off from the ground. Myers sighed. At least, she thought, first contact was peaceful.
| It was 150 million years ago we contacted them. Or rather, they contacted us. Our civilizations flourished as we traded amongst each other, our homeworlds lightyears apart but our cultures growing as one as we exchanged data and history amongst ourselves. We were the chosen. It was an exchange program of unprecedented proportions, one that would transfer some of our greatest citizens with theirs, and a personal up close look at each others civilizations. And so, our as we entered, cryosleep, our engines pulsed into subspace and as i closed my eyes, i saw a glimpse of the bright lights of the subspace tunnels. And then i woke up. It felt as if my head was dunked into ice cold water. As ship captain, i ran diagnostics as i woke the rest of the crew from their sleep. We were in orbit of their homeworld. Or atleast, that was what the co-ordinate system told us. We were puzzled. This was not the image they sent us in our cultural exchange. The landmasses had changed. We were well off from continental engineering within the timescale of our trip. But it was clearly their planet. The cities light up the night sky with the same intense vigor of our own homeworld, and in the pictures theirs as well. I attempted to initiate contact with the world, in their native language the linguists on our home took 50 years to decypher. However, the communications array was not working. I had not understood yet. Suddenly, one of our communications tables lit up, revealing the face of a bipedal mammalian creature, and after incredible confusion, i checked the timer charts. It has been 150 million years since our ship left our homeworld. We were confused, and after 2 years of close research with our linguists and theirs, we soon decyphered their language and them ours. After some time, i realized the horrors that undertook our friends. Our civilizations, whom time designated twins as we rose together, were gone. Wiped. After watching informal "documentaries", i soon realized the horrors our friends faced. We can only assume the same for our own species. The last of us. |
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | **Central Mass** these creatures are not the creatures we came here to collect. They are much smaller in scale.
**Lesser Ovoid** but more numerous. The original life forms we detected have been extinct for some time now. A catastrophic impact has dramatically altered the course of life on this planet. You are now looking at the dominant species on this planet.
**Central Mass** this is a dominant life form? But it is so small.
**Lesser Ovoid** please do not tug at its appendages like that.
**Central Mass** I appear to have detached it.
**Lesser Ovoid** yes, you have.
**Central Mass** do you think these creatures feel pain?
**Lesser Ovoid** it is now quite animated, so I would estimate that this life form is currently experiencing severe pain at the site of the detachment.
**Central Mass** it is leaking fluids.
**Lesser Ovoid** yes, these creatures are mostly filled with vibrantly coloured fluids and pulps. They are little packets of organic lubricant.
**Central Mass** it is emitting a piercing noise that disturbs me.
**Lesser Ovoid** it creates noise by oscillating muscles in its throat to produce sound waves. When all appendages remain attached, they create much less noise and at lower volumes. I believe they use the noises to communicate.
**Central Mass** are you saying these creatures are intelligent?
**Lesser Ovoid** no, I have not seen any indication of higher thought. They are able to create basic tools. Rudimentary vessels that have taken them as far as their planet's moon. But so far nothing that we would consider intelligence.
**Central Mass** good, I do not want to wait another epoch to find viable engine lubricant. We are already several iterations behind the main shoal.
**Lesser Ovoid** agreed. Shall I begin collecting the creatures?
**Central Mass** yes. I will oversee the pulping. We may also want to keep a few aside for further study.
**Lesser Ovoid** then I will begin.
**Central Mass** for the coalescence.
**Lesser Ovoid** for the shoal. | It was 150 million years ago we contacted them. Or rather, they contacted us. Our civilizations flourished as we traded amongst each other, our homeworlds lightyears apart but our cultures growing as one as we exchanged data and history amongst ourselves. We were the chosen. It was an exchange program of unprecedented proportions, one that would transfer some of our greatest citizens with theirs, and a personal up close look at each others civilizations. And so, our as we entered, cryosleep, our engines pulsed into subspace and as i closed my eyes, i saw a glimpse of the bright lights of the subspace tunnels. And then i woke up. It felt as if my head was dunked into ice cold water. As ship captain, i ran diagnostics as i woke the rest of the crew from their sleep. We were in orbit of their homeworld. Or atleast, that was what the co-ordinate system told us. We were puzzled. This was not the image they sent us in our cultural exchange. The landmasses had changed. We were well off from continental engineering within the timescale of our trip. But it was clearly their planet. The cities light up the night sky with the same intense vigor of our own homeworld, and in the pictures theirs as well. I attempted to initiate contact with the world, in their native language the linguists on our home took 50 years to decypher. However, the communications array was not working. I had not understood yet. Suddenly, one of our communications tables lit up, revealing the face of a bipedal mammalian creature, and after incredible confusion, i checked the timer charts. It has been 150 million years since our ship left our homeworld. We were confused, and after 2 years of close research with our linguists and theirs, we soon decyphered their language and them ours. After some time, i realized the horrors that undertook our friends. Our civilizations, whom time designated twins as we rose together, were gone. Wiped. After watching informal "documentaries", i soon realized the horrors our friends faced. We can only assume the same for our own species. The last of us. |
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | "What?" Grouncho asked.
The United Nations looked at each other. The head speaker knit his fingers together anxiously and spoke.
"Well, you see, Mister, Mister Groucho, things have changed. A big rock hit the earth. Things moved. We happened."
"Fibbernuggets!" yelled Groucho. "What's your name, huuman?"
"Gregory, Speaker of the United Nations, sir."
"Go space yourself. I wanted dino-stars. Now you tell me these dino-stars are dead. All of them. Do you know how much mun-power we spent on this? All the, um, championing, chomping-" he stared at his translator "*campaigning* for money we had to do. Dump it all in space."
He stared moodily out the window. Gregory put an awkward hand on Grouncho's shoulder.
"It's okay, Mister Grouncho. We'll give you something as a consolation present. Maybe many somethings or a very nice something if we can afford it. We'll take you to see all our big wonders, like the Pyramids, the Effiel Tower, the nice little duck pond down by kenginston gardens..."
Grouncho sniffled. "Ducks?"
"Yeah. Ducks. Little sniffly fluffy things. With duck feet. I mean webby feet. And wings."
Grouncho looked up. "Sniffly things? Webby feet? Wings? Let me see." Grouncho rushed to the window. A single duck was unsuccessfully trying to drown itself outside. "Dino-Star! Hurray!" | It was 150 million years ago we contacted them. Or rather, they contacted us. Our civilizations flourished as we traded amongst each other, our homeworlds lightyears apart but our cultures growing as one as we exchanged data and history amongst ourselves. We were the chosen. It was an exchange program of unprecedented proportions, one that would transfer some of our greatest citizens with theirs, and a personal up close look at each others civilizations. And so, our as we entered, cryosleep, our engines pulsed into subspace and as i closed my eyes, i saw a glimpse of the bright lights of the subspace tunnels. And then i woke up. It felt as if my head was dunked into ice cold water. As ship captain, i ran diagnostics as i woke the rest of the crew from their sleep. We were in orbit of their homeworld. Or atleast, that was what the co-ordinate system told us. We were puzzled. This was not the image they sent us in our cultural exchange. The landmasses had changed. We were well off from continental engineering within the timescale of our trip. But it was clearly their planet. The cities light up the night sky with the same intense vigor of our own homeworld, and in the pictures theirs as well. I attempted to initiate contact with the world, in their native language the linguists on our home took 50 years to decypher. However, the communications array was not working. I had not understood yet. Suddenly, one of our communications tables lit up, revealing the face of a bipedal mammalian creature, and after incredible confusion, i checked the timer charts. It has been 150 million years since our ship left our homeworld. We were confused, and after 2 years of close research with our linguists and theirs, we soon decyphered their language and them ours. After some time, i realized the horrors that undertook our friends. Our civilizations, whom time designated twins as we rose together, were gone. Wiped. After watching informal "documentaries", i soon realized the horrors our friends faced. We can only assume the same for our own species. The last of us. |
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | "150 Million years, One hundred fifty million years. Nowhere in any of that time the computer picked up on the fact the one thing we were coming to this rock for is dead" Ensign Cragroc said. He'd never wanted to escort these eggheads across the universe and now it was all for nothing.
"Hey it's not the computers fault, an asteroid wiped them out. It would have turned around if all life had been wiped out, but apparently some lower life forms survived and it just figured it was them. It's not the worst thing that could happen" Dr.Yegnar replied observing the creatures gathering around their pod.
"Not the worst thing? Not the worst thing?! We've been away for 150 Million years! Everyone we knew is probably dead by now, if our species is still even there and you know what we're getting out of it. Nothing, Breen Egg. How is this not the worst thing Egghead!"
"Ensign calm down. You know everyone back home went into Cryosleep the same time we did. Besides our research is not for nothing, these creatures obviously survived here, it might be safe enough for us as well. Come on let's go out and see" Captain and Head Researcher Dr.Nog said.
"I guess your right"
"Of course I am, now let's go out and greet the locals" she said slipping on her space suit. Yegnar and Cragroc did the same. They stepped out ignoring the creatures for the moment.
"It's clear the atmosphere is oxygen rich" Yegnar said as the three of them slipped off their helmets. This seemed to upset the locals as they screamed, some running off, one saying "Dinosaurs".
"What's a Dinosaur?" Cragroc asked scratching his scaly head looking at Nog
"No idea, now come on grab a couple of these mammals we'll need to see if they're edible" she said starving for some meat.
"I'll check out the plants" Yegnar said glad to get the helmet off as it really chafed his horns.
"Do you really think we can live here?" Cragroc asked looking at the two scientists.
"Well creatures quite similar to our ancestors lived here before the mammals took over. If everything seems safe we'll call home and let them know, but in my opinion. I think we've found the new world we've been looking for" Nog said as she and Cragroc grabbed a couple of the talking mammals ready for some breakfast.
| It was 150 million years ago we contacted them. Or rather, they contacted us. Our civilizations flourished as we traded amongst each other, our homeworlds lightyears apart but our cultures growing as one as we exchanged data and history amongst ourselves. We were the chosen. It was an exchange program of unprecedented proportions, one that would transfer some of our greatest citizens with theirs, and a personal up close look at each others civilizations. And so, our as we entered, cryosleep, our engines pulsed into subspace and as i closed my eyes, i saw a glimpse of the bright lights of the subspace tunnels. And then i woke up. It felt as if my head was dunked into ice cold water. As ship captain, i ran diagnostics as i woke the rest of the crew from their sleep. We were in orbit of their homeworld. Or atleast, that was what the co-ordinate system told us. We were puzzled. This was not the image they sent us in our cultural exchange. The landmasses had changed. We were well off from continental engineering within the timescale of our trip. But it was clearly their planet. The cities light up the night sky with the same intense vigor of our own homeworld, and in the pictures theirs as well. I attempted to initiate contact with the world, in their native language the linguists on our home took 50 years to decypher. However, the communications array was not working. I had not understood yet. Suddenly, one of our communications tables lit up, revealing the face of a bipedal mammalian creature, and after incredible confusion, i checked the timer charts. It has been 150 million years since our ship left our homeworld. We were confused, and after 2 years of close research with our linguists and theirs, we soon decyphered their language and them ours. After some time, i realized the horrors that undertook our friends. Our civilizations, whom time designated twins as we rose together, were gone. Wiped. After watching informal "documentaries", i soon realized the horrors our friends faced. We can only assume the same for our own species. The last of us. |
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | **Central Mass** these creatures are not the creatures we came here to collect. They are much smaller in scale.
**Lesser Ovoid** but more numerous. The original life forms we detected have been extinct for some time now. A catastrophic impact has dramatically altered the course of life on this planet. You are now looking at the dominant species on this planet.
**Central Mass** this is a dominant life form? But it is so small.
**Lesser Ovoid** please do not tug at its appendages like that.
**Central Mass** I appear to have detached it.
**Lesser Ovoid** yes, you have.
**Central Mass** do you think these creatures feel pain?
**Lesser Ovoid** it is now quite animated, so I would estimate that this life form is currently experiencing severe pain at the site of the detachment.
**Central Mass** it is leaking fluids.
**Lesser Ovoid** yes, these creatures are mostly filled with vibrantly coloured fluids and pulps. They are little packets of organic lubricant.
**Central Mass** it is emitting a piercing noise that disturbs me.
**Lesser Ovoid** it creates noise by oscillating muscles in its throat to produce sound waves. When all appendages remain attached, they create much less noise and at lower volumes. I believe they use the noises to communicate.
**Central Mass** are you saying these creatures are intelligent?
**Lesser Ovoid** no, I have not seen any indication of higher thought. They are able to create basic tools. Rudimentary vessels that have taken them as far as their planet's moon. But so far nothing that we would consider intelligence.
**Central Mass** good, I do not want to wait another epoch to find viable engine lubricant. We are already several iterations behind the main shoal.
**Lesser Ovoid** agreed. Shall I begin collecting the creatures?
**Central Mass** yes. I will oversee the pulping. We may also want to keep a few aside for further study.
**Lesser Ovoid** then I will begin.
**Central Mass** for the coalescence.
**Lesser Ovoid** for the shoal. | Alien: "The fuck?"
Human: "Holy shit."
Alien: "Ummm, T-rex?"
Human: "What?"
Alien: "Nevermind."
Alien 2: "What happened?"
Alien: "I dunno we fucked up or something."
Alien 2: "Oh. Well shit."
Alien: "Yeah."
|
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | "What?" Grouncho asked.
The United Nations looked at each other. The head speaker knit his fingers together anxiously and spoke.
"Well, you see, Mister, Mister Groucho, things have changed. A big rock hit the earth. Things moved. We happened."
"Fibbernuggets!" yelled Groucho. "What's your name, huuman?"
"Gregory, Speaker of the United Nations, sir."
"Go space yourself. I wanted dino-stars. Now you tell me these dino-stars are dead. All of them. Do you know how much mun-power we spent on this? All the, um, championing, chomping-" he stared at his translator "*campaigning* for money we had to do. Dump it all in space."
He stared moodily out the window. Gregory put an awkward hand on Grouncho's shoulder.
"It's okay, Mister Grouncho. We'll give you something as a consolation present. Maybe many somethings or a very nice something if we can afford it. We'll take you to see all our big wonders, like the Pyramids, the Effiel Tower, the nice little duck pond down by kenginston gardens..."
Grouncho sniffled. "Ducks?"
"Yeah. Ducks. Little sniffly fluffy things. With duck feet. I mean webby feet. And wings."
Grouncho looked up. "Sniffly things? Webby feet? Wings? Let me see." Grouncho rushed to the window. A single duck was unsuccessfully trying to drown itself outside. "Dino-Star! Hurray!" | Alien: "The fuck?"
Human: "Holy shit."
Alien: "Ummm, T-rex?"
Human: "What?"
Alien: "Nevermind."
Alien 2: "What happened?"
Alien: "I dunno we fucked up or something."
Alien 2: "Oh. Well shit."
Alien: "Yeah."
|
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | "150 Million years, One hundred fifty million years. Nowhere in any of that time the computer picked up on the fact the one thing we were coming to this rock for is dead" Ensign Cragroc said. He'd never wanted to escort these eggheads across the universe and now it was all for nothing.
"Hey it's not the computers fault, an asteroid wiped them out. It would have turned around if all life had been wiped out, but apparently some lower life forms survived and it just figured it was them. It's not the worst thing that could happen" Dr.Yegnar replied observing the creatures gathering around their pod.
"Not the worst thing? Not the worst thing?! We've been away for 150 Million years! Everyone we knew is probably dead by now, if our species is still even there and you know what we're getting out of it. Nothing, Breen Egg. How is this not the worst thing Egghead!"
"Ensign calm down. You know everyone back home went into Cryosleep the same time we did. Besides our research is not for nothing, these creatures obviously survived here, it might be safe enough for us as well. Come on let's go out and see" Captain and Head Researcher Dr.Nog said.
"I guess your right"
"Of course I am, now let's go out and greet the locals" she said slipping on her space suit. Yegnar and Cragroc did the same. They stepped out ignoring the creatures for the moment.
"It's clear the atmosphere is oxygen rich" Yegnar said as the three of them slipped off their helmets. This seemed to upset the locals as they screamed, some running off, one saying "Dinosaurs".
"What's a Dinosaur?" Cragroc asked scratching his scaly head looking at Nog
"No idea, now come on grab a couple of these mammals we'll need to see if they're edible" she said starving for some meat.
"I'll check out the plants" Yegnar said glad to get the helmet off as it really chafed his horns.
"Do you really think we can live here?" Cragroc asked looking at the two scientists.
"Well creatures quite similar to our ancestors lived here before the mammals took over. If everything seems safe we'll call home and let them know, but in my opinion. I think we've found the new world we've been looking for" Nog said as she and Cragroc grabbed a couple of the talking mammals ready for some breakfast.
| Alien: "The fuck?"
Human: "Holy shit."
Alien: "Ummm, T-rex?"
Human: "What?"
Alien: "Nevermind."
Alien 2: "What happened?"
Alien: "I dunno we fucked up or something."
Alien 2: "Oh. Well shit."
Alien: "Yeah."
|
|
[WP] A ship full of alien scientists lands on Earth. They've been in cryosleep for 150 million years and were expecting to study dinosaurs. | "150 Million years, One hundred fifty million years. Nowhere in any of that time the computer picked up on the fact the one thing we were coming to this rock for is dead" Ensign Cragroc said. He'd never wanted to escort these eggheads across the universe and now it was all for nothing.
"Hey it's not the computers fault, an asteroid wiped them out. It would have turned around if all life had been wiped out, but apparently some lower life forms survived and it just figured it was them. It's not the worst thing that could happen" Dr.Yegnar replied observing the creatures gathering around their pod.
"Not the worst thing? Not the worst thing?! We've been away for 150 Million years! Everyone we knew is probably dead by now, if our species is still even there and you know what we're getting out of it. Nothing, Breen Egg. How is this not the worst thing Egghead!"
"Ensign calm down. You know everyone back home went into Cryosleep the same time we did. Besides our research is not for nothing, these creatures obviously survived here, it might be safe enough for us as well. Come on let's go out and see" Captain and Head Researcher Dr.Nog said.
"I guess your right"
"Of course I am, now let's go out and greet the locals" she said slipping on her space suit. Yegnar and Cragroc did the same. They stepped out ignoring the creatures for the moment.
"It's clear the atmosphere is oxygen rich" Yegnar said as the three of them slipped off their helmets. This seemed to upset the locals as they screamed, some running off, one saying "Dinosaurs".
"What's a Dinosaur?" Cragroc asked scratching his scaly head looking at Nog
"No idea, now come on grab a couple of these mammals we'll need to see if they're edible" she said starving for some meat.
"I'll check out the plants" Yegnar said glad to get the helmet off as it really chafed his horns.
"Do you really think we can live here?" Cragroc asked looking at the two scientists.
"Well creatures quite similar to our ancestors lived here before the mammals took over. If everything seems safe we'll call home and let them know, but in my opinion. I think we've found the new world we've been looking for" Nog said as she and Cragroc grabbed a couple of the talking mammals ready for some breakfast.
| In a dark, foggy room, a blue luminescence is radiating from two metal pods, arranged vertically, about the size of twin size beds. The transparent covers of the pods spring open and bodies rustle inside.
"Hey, Glarshnog. Pssst, Glaaaarshnog, you awake?"
"Yeah, I'm awake, Fusho, but my back is stiff as shit. How long were we sleeping anyway?"
"Like, one hundred and fifty million years."
"Huh, you would think after 150 million years of sleep you would wake up feeling refreshed, but nope, just tired and sore as usual."
"Tell me about it. But hey, at least we get to conduct some cool experiments on the fluffies. If I can ride one this whole trip will be worth it."
"We're not going to ride them, we're going to research them, and stop calling the gronks, fluffies, they're not fluffy. Why would call them fluffies?"
"Because I like the name ok, it just suits them better. And I WILL ride one."
Fusho walked outside and Glarshnog followed. There were hundreds of aliens, surrounding their ship, and some were holding weird metal pole things.
"Fluffies?"
"Where on the right planet, Fusho... I guess these aliens got here before us and wiped out the fluffies, I mean, gronks."
The aliens were yelling in their alien language and Fusho was valiantly holding back tears, but to no avail. Eventually the two scientists were detained and brought into a dark, foggy, room with two cells which held Fusho and Glarshnog.
"Cheer up Fusho! Maybe these aliens have other cool things we can ride, or maybe we can enslave them."
"snff, snff.. Really?"
"Sure" |
|
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | "I'm not saying you have to *surrender*," said the ambassador. "It's just inconvenient, that's all I'm saying."
The Quar'lian stood his ground. "You know, this has typically gone much better for us. In the past, I mean."
The ambassador smiled. "I don't doubt it. That thing you did with the dragon was really impressive. I bet that sent whole armies running with their tails between their legs."
"Oh, don't patronize me" said the Quar'lian. He looked rather upset about the whole thing. "I don't suppose you have anything better to do than gawk at the Royal Armada of the Eighth House of Quar'lel?"
The ambassador smiled and relit his cigar. "It works like this. You give a public statement, probably side by side with the Secretary General, the President, probably the Joint Chiefs of Staff and some foreign leaders, and say that this has been a very successful first contact between your dimension and ours. Since, you're stuck here, maybe we can play this off as you folks all being refugees of your own dimension and you're looking for a new home. We can sweep this all under the rug."
The Quar'lian sighed. His fancy silver robes drooped from his shoulders. The ambassador counted nine...ten... no, twelve glowing hoops of pure light in the Quar'lian's elongated ear looking like something he picked up in a teen-girls piercing shop in Blade Runner. The ambassador hoped this wouldn't start a fashion trend.
"I'm sure this would have all gone differently if your magic worked in our dimension," started the ambassador. "You should be proud of yourselves, really, to break on through to the other side. I'm sure there's a lot you could teach us."
"You're being patronizing again," said the Quar'lian. "And it's not *magic,* you know. It's *arcana,* an ancient form of cosmic sorcery given to us by the Firstborne at the Crowning of the Ocean King, and preserved painstakingly by the wisest scholars of the Scholomance of Fortenfall's Archmagi."
The ambassador smiled. "We can work out the details with our press office this afternoon. Your armada is probably hungry and could use some good American barbeque. I'll ask the joint chiefs where your airships can land, and we'll see about getting everybody set up with a nice meal. I'll tell you the story of Thanksgiving. You'll get a kick out of it, I promise you that."
"Very *well*," muled the Quar'lian, and they shook hands. | Anyone know of any novels or series with a story similiar to the prompt? |
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | You might enjoy, [*The Road Not Taken*] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Road_Not_Taken_(short_story) by Harry Turtledove. | Anyone know of any novels or series with a story similiar to the prompt? |
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | You might enjoy, [*The Road Not Taken*] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Road_Not_Taken_(short_story) by Harry Turtledove. | "I'm not saying you have to *surrender*," said the ambassador. "It's just inconvenient, that's all I'm saying."
The Quar'lian stood his ground. "You know, this has typically gone much better for us. In the past, I mean."
The ambassador smiled. "I don't doubt it. That thing you did with the dragon was really impressive. I bet that sent whole armies running with their tails between their legs."
"Oh, don't patronize me" said the Quar'lian. He looked rather upset about the whole thing. "I don't suppose you have anything better to do than gawk at the Royal Armada of the Eighth House of Quar'lel?"
The ambassador smiled and relit his cigar. "It works like this. You give a public statement, probably side by side with the Secretary General, the President, probably the Joint Chiefs of Staff and some foreign leaders, and say that this has been a very successful first contact between your dimension and ours. Since, you're stuck here, maybe we can play this off as you folks all being refugees of your own dimension and you're looking for a new home. We can sweep this all under the rug."
The Quar'lian sighed. His fancy silver robes drooped from his shoulders. The ambassador counted nine...ten... no, twelve glowing hoops of pure light in the Quar'lian's elongated ear looking like something he picked up in a teen-girls piercing shop in Blade Runner. The ambassador hoped this wouldn't start a fashion trend.
"I'm sure this would have all gone differently if your magic worked in our dimension," started the ambassador. "You should be proud of yourselves, really, to break on through to the other side. I'm sure there's a lot you could teach us."
"You're being patronizing again," said the Quar'lian. "And it's not *magic,* you know. It's *arcana,* an ancient form of cosmic sorcery given to us by the Firstborne at the Crowning of the Ocean King, and preserved painstakingly by the wisest scholars of the Scholomance of Fortenfall's Archmagi."
The ambassador smiled. "We can work out the details with our press office this afternoon. Your armada is probably hungry and could use some good American barbeque. I'll ask the joint chiefs where your airships can land, and we'll see about getting everybody set up with a nice meal. I'll tell you the story of Thanksgiving. You'll get a kick out of it, I promise you that."
"Very *well*," muled the Quar'lian, and they shook hands. |
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | The war between realms has been officially decided as lasting 38 standard Earth hours.
Human casualties were 18 killed, 11 wounded, 25 missing in action.
Delvin casualties, from the official UN estimate, are considered to be roughly 60,000.
Not a single swordsman, archer, mage, or knight who passed through the Iron Gates survived to tell his tale.
They arrived in ranked formations, numbering exactly 97 men wide in deep columns that seemed to stretch infinitely into the desert. To the Bedouins who initially encountered them, they were exactly that: an infinite army of the past come to conquer the modern world in the name of God. Luckily for the more skeptical residents of the deserts, some brave soul or another felt fit to notify local army and NATO divisions stationed in the area.
Aerial surveillance was quick to substantiate this claim, and a force of 25 soldiers, accompanied by professional diplomats and negotiators, was quick to reach their position.
This advance diplomatic force, unequipped and unprepared to handle sustained fighting, was quickly attacked and routed by mages of the Kh’al-Tum clan.
They suffered 10 deaths, 9 wounded, the heaviest human casualties of the war.
The retreating forces quickly radioed in for close air support. Four light attack jets were scrambled to slow down the advancing army until aircraft could be found, fueled, and readied for action.
Of course the concept of aircraft was utterly foreign to the proud and newly victorious Delvin army. Rather than seeking cover, the noble knights of the vanguard chose instead to hurl insults like flak at the approaching aircraft. Out of the 500 illustrious horsemen that formed the Ickathian Brotherhood, 14 survived the initial strafing. The main columns fared no better, with men, dwarves, and elves unwisely diving behind their shields and chain armor as a source of protection from the hot lead rain. Arch-mage Balgan, in an attempt to defeat what he and his advisors considered the human’s primary defenses, led a heroic effort to destroy the encroaching demons.
Through valiant sacrifice, he and his followers were able to damage 3 of the 4 fighters, killing two pilots and forcing another to eject. The last pilot, responding to the destruction of his comrades and his quick depleting fuel, beat a hasty retreat back to his base. Once again, victory was at hand. The forces rallied and resumed their march out of the desert, going towards, though they did not realize it, the heavily militarized Gaza Strip.
Military strategists credit the armies of Delvin with great bravery in the face of the artillery barrage and subsequent high altitude bombardment that effected the ruin of their grand army. Satellite surveillance photos show the maintenance of proper battle lines even as the last soldiers fell. Frequently, it seemed, when the company commanders were ripped to shreds by anti-personnel mortar rounds, artillery fire, and aerial bombardment, the troops under their command resorted to their training in a way that rivaled even the Romans. They died in orderly rows, shields in front, swords and axes drawn.
As the smoke cleared, a force of light reconnaissance vehicles and armored personnel carriers moved into the impacted desert. By loudspeaker, the head negotiator demanded the surrender of the surviving forces. The troops were informed that their situation was beyond hopeless, that a thousand trained eyes were focused on their position, that the devastating barrage of the previous night could be repeated ad infinitum.
The negotiator’s words were met by a singular shout. The words, being a Dwarvish insult to the man’s mother, sister, father, and manhood, were lost on the human forces. The tone was not.
The soldiers shrugged and withdrew to a minimum safe distance. The batteries reopened fire. Bored soldiers gambled and laughed as the rockets boomed into the distance. The sky tinted orange with the color of synthetic dragonfire. | "no dragons to be slain, no dwarves to be reasoned with, no elves to put our weaponry skills to shame. Taking Earth should be as easy as a well placed enchantment or an impressive display of mountain giant strength for all of humankind to quake before. I'm of half a mind to only send the wizards to Earth after all. The rest of us need move in but a few moments later when humanity is subdued. We can then establish a new world around the rich resources of Earth! All races will live in harmony with each other, each in their rightful social standing, with humans at the bottom of course. They are a weak minded species with no special abilities. How this race of beings has managed to hold Earth for so long without being invaded before today is beyond me! They've got no magic for goodness sakes! I'm heading on a quick reconnaissance before notifying the war effort."
This was an entry in the high commander druid's military log written moments before he stepped through the recently enchanted Earth gate and emerged, or rather submerged, 3,000 feet beneath the surface of the Atlantic ocean. He was instantly crushed by the ensuing pressure and had no time to consider what a mistake he had made in not sending the wizards through first. |
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | *Third Morn of February, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen*
*Jerusalem*
The order is given. The news of it races through the ranks, filling every man whom hears it with that tightness of breath and chest and fist which only righteous fervour can bring. The Ninth crusade is called, and every man on every continent of God’s united Earth rushes to join it.
I admit, I had begun to doubt. Not in Him - for He of course is perfection and His plan also – but in the alchemists; those wizened, twisted sinners, their hearts full of low cunning and black magic. To tell truth, I doubted the wisdom behind the Realm’s tolerance of their continued existence, as I know did many. What could those decrepit old men, with their potions and parlour tricks, give us which the Lord himself would not in due time see fit to bestow upon the faithful? But the Lord works in mysterious ways; even, it seems, through the hands of heretics.
For it is undoubtedly His will which those wicked hands have wrought. Another world! Waiting, unseeable but by Him, betwixt the very fabric of reality itself; and now pierced by us. Had the message not borne the sigil of the High King, I would not have believed the words before me. But they are good and they are true. The Black Order in Geneva have opened a window to another world, and Benedict in Rome has laid out that call which all faithful men must answer.
And answer they shall. The birds have flown to all corners of the world, and every able soldier from New England to The Horn to Van Diemen’s Land will come. There is true jubilation tonight, as if a merry madness has gripped the entire city. People drink and dance and weep openly in the streets, praising His holy name, and it is not difficult to understand why. For or so long we have waited, desolate of direction and devoid of purpose. Two score years of doubt, of disillusion, fragmentation and infighting, as the Christian peoples of the world wondered “What now?” We had spread to every corner of the globe, put to the stake every non-believer and rooted out heresy in all its forms. When the last of the Maori savages lay slain, the last pockets of resistance burned away, we had thought our mission complete; and so, perhaps greedily, we had awaited salvation. But salvation did not come – despite our triumphs, despite our faith, despite our forging of a united Christian world. How had we failed, we cried. What more did the Lord desire, what more could he ask of us?
And now we know.
-----------------------------------
*Fifteenth Night of October, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen*
*Constantinople*
Our company joined that of the Tenochtitlan Brethren this morning. A savage people, only a few generations United, but their dedication to Him is unquestionable, if a little… sanguine. I had believed there little truth to the rumours of their habit of nailing heretics to the cross in honour of Our Lord’s perfect Sacrifice; but it seems I was mistaken. Regardless it was an enlightening, if unconventional, display of faith to witness, and one which the Brethren, purportedly, look to carry into the New World; as the heretics of our own Earth are, blessedly, in short supply.
The New World. The thought of it fills my every waking hour and echoes across my dreams. I can feel God’s guiding hand on my shoulder as I march towards the righteous host massing at its door. Another world, another Earth, full of heretics which He would have us purge; and purge them we shall. Captain Frederick today raised the question if they shall all be heretics, if the Lord is known of there or if they all stumble in darkness. I admit, we do not know – anything is possible. But regardless, I assured him, be there innocents among them, we will purge them all like gold in the fire. God will know His own.
-----------------------------------
*Second Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen*
*Geneva*
It is done. The last regiments of pike from Jakarta arrived this morning, and the Order of the Antarctic this afternoon - the latter almost twice the height of a normal man, armoured in insulating plate as they were. The host is gathered, almost a billion strong, of lance and sword and horses. I am too excited to sleep. Tomorrow, we bring the Unity of the Lord to the New World.
-----------------------------------
*Fourth Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen*
**Hell**
Lord protect me. I do not know if anyone will ever find this, but please, tell the host to turn back. We did not understand this world, the magicks its peoples wield. We came to conquer, but we are undone. Lord save us. It seemed so easy. The first town was defenceless, no spears nor clubs nor even the meanest armour, though it hummed with the movement of twisted machines. The second was the same, its people running in panic at our advance, cattle to the slaughter.
But then came the third. We had barely got within a bow’s length of the first house when the air cracked as if with thunder, short sharp bursts, and suddenly my companions fell dying around me, holes appearing as if by witchcraft in their armour and their lifeblood draining from them. I do not know how it is possible; I have seen the chestplates of these men deflect swings of a broadsword, but they punctured now like wet paper against this unseen force. And this was only the beginning.
From over the plains, rolling fortresses set upon us, like iron carriages but drawn by no horses I could perceive. From them came deafening booms, and I could only watch in horror as entire battalions simply disintegrated in blasts of dust and fire. We stormed them, losing a hundred men for every one that survived, but our charge was for nought, for our steel could not hurt them, our arrows did not pierce, and even the rocks that our engines hurled broke hopelessly upon their sides. It was madness; thousands slaughtered, maybe millions, a discord mess of voices calling in contradiction to advance, assist or retreat. But it was too late. The magick of these Other Worldmen had turned the very sky against us, and now there was nowhere we could run, nowhere we could hide. High whistles cut the air, and seemingly from nothingness explosions tore the very ground asunder. We ran. All of us, all brave men of Christ, we all turned tail and fled, our mission all but forgotten in the face of such unimaginable slaughter.
I write this from a small cave in which I shelter. I can see them passing, these men, the ones who hunt me; clad not in armour but in misshapen robes of mottled green, in each of their hands the twisted artefacts that I believe tore holes in the bodies of my comrades. I pray to God to protect me from them, but I do not know if my prayers reach Him. We were wrong. We were so wrong. We came believing that He was with us. But we came from a world of God.
And this is a world of Satan.
| "no dragons to be slain, no dwarves to be reasoned with, no elves to put our weaponry skills to shame. Taking Earth should be as easy as a well placed enchantment or an impressive display of mountain giant strength for all of humankind to quake before. I'm of half a mind to only send the wizards to Earth after all. The rest of us need move in but a few moments later when humanity is subdued. We can then establish a new world around the rich resources of Earth! All races will live in harmony with each other, each in their rightful social standing, with humans at the bottom of course. They are a weak minded species with no special abilities. How this race of beings has managed to hold Earth for so long without being invaded before today is beyond me! They've got no magic for goodness sakes! I'm heading on a quick reconnaissance before notifying the war effort."
This was an entry in the high commander druid's military log written moments before he stepped through the recently enchanted Earth gate and emerged, or rather submerged, 3,000 feet beneath the surface of the Atlantic ocean. He was instantly crushed by the ensuing pressure and had no time to consider what a mistake he had made in not sending the wizards through first. |
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | The war between realms has been officially decided as lasting 38 standard Earth hours.
Human casualties were 18 killed, 11 wounded, 25 missing in action.
Delvin casualties, from the official UN estimate, are considered to be roughly 60,000.
Not a single swordsman, archer, mage, or knight who passed through the Iron Gates survived to tell his tale.
They arrived in ranked formations, numbering exactly 97 men wide in deep columns that seemed to stretch infinitely into the desert. To the Bedouins who initially encountered them, they were exactly that: an infinite army of the past come to conquer the modern world in the name of God. Luckily for the more skeptical residents of the deserts, some brave soul or another felt fit to notify local army and NATO divisions stationed in the area.
Aerial surveillance was quick to substantiate this claim, and a force of 25 soldiers, accompanied by professional diplomats and negotiators, was quick to reach their position.
This advance diplomatic force, unequipped and unprepared to handle sustained fighting, was quickly attacked and routed by mages of the Kh’al-Tum clan.
They suffered 10 deaths, 9 wounded, the heaviest human casualties of the war.
The retreating forces quickly radioed in for close air support. Four light attack jets were scrambled to slow down the advancing army until aircraft could be found, fueled, and readied for action.
Of course the concept of aircraft was utterly foreign to the proud and newly victorious Delvin army. Rather than seeking cover, the noble knights of the vanguard chose instead to hurl insults like flak at the approaching aircraft. Out of the 500 illustrious horsemen that formed the Ickathian Brotherhood, 14 survived the initial strafing. The main columns fared no better, with men, dwarves, and elves unwisely diving behind their shields and chain armor as a source of protection from the hot lead rain. Arch-mage Balgan, in an attempt to defeat what he and his advisors considered the human’s primary defenses, led a heroic effort to destroy the encroaching demons.
Through valiant sacrifice, he and his followers were able to damage 3 of the 4 fighters, killing two pilots and forcing another to eject. The last pilot, responding to the destruction of his comrades and his quick depleting fuel, beat a hasty retreat back to his base. Once again, victory was at hand. The forces rallied and resumed their march out of the desert, going towards, though they did not realize it, the heavily militarized Gaza Strip.
Military strategists credit the armies of Delvin with great bravery in the face of the artillery barrage and subsequent high altitude bombardment that effected the ruin of their grand army. Satellite surveillance photos show the maintenance of proper battle lines even as the last soldiers fell. Frequently, it seemed, when the company commanders were ripped to shreds by anti-personnel mortar rounds, artillery fire, and aerial bombardment, the troops under their command resorted to their training in a way that rivaled even the Romans. They died in orderly rows, shields in front, swords and axes drawn.
As the smoke cleared, a force of light reconnaissance vehicles and armored personnel carriers moved into the impacted desert. By loudspeaker, the head negotiator demanded the surrender of the surviving forces. The troops were informed that their situation was beyond hopeless, that a thousand trained eyes were focused on their position, that the devastating barrage of the previous night could be repeated ad infinitum.
The negotiator’s words were met by a singular shout. The words, being a Dwarvish insult to the man’s mother, sister, father, and manhood, were lost on the human forces. The tone was not.
The soldiers shrugged and withdrew to a minimum safe distance. The batteries reopened fire. Bored soldiers gambled and laughed as the rockets boomed into the distance. The sky tinted orange with the color of synthetic dragonfire. | Dear Diary.
Damn! What else can I say? I signed up to protect not massacre. These bastards don't even understand what is going on before they are torn to shreds. The Fey. Dumbasses They decided our "non-magical realm" was ripe for the taking. The arrogance of centuries of technological stagnation caught up with them i guess.
its my job to kill them now. I haven't been able to eat for quite a while. I think i am off meat forever.... or at least indefinitely. some got in my mouth. its all over me and it never washes off. I don't think i will feel clean again. Day one was atrocious. day two was sickening and now it is day 26 and i just don't see the sense in it. maybe they are hoping we will run out of ammunition? The smell of carnage floats from the local Door sometimes. its why i dont eat.
This doesn't feel like winning. this doesn't feel like fighting at all. It isn't but by now i am sure whoever is left over there wants to kill us all. revenge? How do they justify this.
Tomorrow i hive "mop up" again. last time it was 4 hours of walking the fields stopping the screaming. I hope it stops. havent slept. |
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | *Third Morn of February, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen*
*Jerusalem*
The order is given. The news of it races through the ranks, filling every man whom hears it with that tightness of breath and chest and fist which only righteous fervour can bring. The Ninth crusade is called, and every man on every continent of God’s united Earth rushes to join it.
I admit, I had begun to doubt. Not in Him - for He of course is perfection and His plan also – but in the alchemists; those wizened, twisted sinners, their hearts full of low cunning and black magic. To tell truth, I doubted the wisdom behind the Realm’s tolerance of their continued existence, as I know did many. What could those decrepit old men, with their potions and parlour tricks, give us which the Lord himself would not in due time see fit to bestow upon the faithful? But the Lord works in mysterious ways; even, it seems, through the hands of heretics.
For it is undoubtedly His will which those wicked hands have wrought. Another world! Waiting, unseeable but by Him, betwixt the very fabric of reality itself; and now pierced by us. Had the message not borne the sigil of the High King, I would not have believed the words before me. But they are good and they are true. The Black Order in Geneva have opened a window to another world, and Benedict in Rome has laid out that call which all faithful men must answer.
And answer they shall. The birds have flown to all corners of the world, and every able soldier from New England to The Horn to Van Diemen’s Land will come. There is true jubilation tonight, as if a merry madness has gripped the entire city. People drink and dance and weep openly in the streets, praising His holy name, and it is not difficult to understand why. For or so long we have waited, desolate of direction and devoid of purpose. Two score years of doubt, of disillusion, fragmentation and infighting, as the Christian peoples of the world wondered “What now?” We had spread to every corner of the globe, put to the stake every non-believer and rooted out heresy in all its forms. When the last of the Maori savages lay slain, the last pockets of resistance burned away, we had thought our mission complete; and so, perhaps greedily, we had awaited salvation. But salvation did not come – despite our triumphs, despite our faith, despite our forging of a united Christian world. How had we failed, we cried. What more did the Lord desire, what more could he ask of us?
And now we know.
-----------------------------------
*Fifteenth Night of October, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen*
*Constantinople*
Our company joined that of the Tenochtitlan Brethren this morning. A savage people, only a few generations United, but their dedication to Him is unquestionable, if a little… sanguine. I had believed there little truth to the rumours of their habit of nailing heretics to the cross in honour of Our Lord’s perfect Sacrifice; but it seems I was mistaken. Regardless it was an enlightening, if unconventional, display of faith to witness, and one which the Brethren, purportedly, look to carry into the New World; as the heretics of our own Earth are, blessedly, in short supply.
The New World. The thought of it fills my every waking hour and echoes across my dreams. I can feel God’s guiding hand on my shoulder as I march towards the righteous host massing at its door. Another world, another Earth, full of heretics which He would have us purge; and purge them we shall. Captain Frederick today raised the question if they shall all be heretics, if the Lord is known of there or if they all stumble in darkness. I admit, we do not know – anything is possible. But regardless, I assured him, be there innocents among them, we will purge them all like gold in the fire. God will know His own.
-----------------------------------
*Second Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen*
*Geneva*
It is done. The last regiments of pike from Jakarta arrived this morning, and the Order of the Antarctic this afternoon - the latter almost twice the height of a normal man, armoured in insulating plate as they were. The host is gathered, almost a billion strong, of lance and sword and horses. I am too excited to sleep. Tomorrow, we bring the Unity of the Lord to the New World.
-----------------------------------
*Fourth Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen*
**Hell**
Lord protect me. I do not know if anyone will ever find this, but please, tell the host to turn back. We did not understand this world, the magicks its peoples wield. We came to conquer, but we are undone. Lord save us. It seemed so easy. The first town was defenceless, no spears nor clubs nor even the meanest armour, though it hummed with the movement of twisted machines. The second was the same, its people running in panic at our advance, cattle to the slaughter.
But then came the third. We had barely got within a bow’s length of the first house when the air cracked as if with thunder, short sharp bursts, and suddenly my companions fell dying around me, holes appearing as if by witchcraft in their armour and their lifeblood draining from them. I do not know how it is possible; I have seen the chestplates of these men deflect swings of a broadsword, but they punctured now like wet paper against this unseen force. And this was only the beginning.
From over the plains, rolling fortresses set upon us, like iron carriages but drawn by no horses I could perceive. From them came deafening booms, and I could only watch in horror as entire battalions simply disintegrated in blasts of dust and fire. We stormed them, losing a hundred men for every one that survived, but our charge was for nought, for our steel could not hurt them, our arrows did not pierce, and even the rocks that our engines hurled broke hopelessly upon their sides. It was madness; thousands slaughtered, maybe millions, a discord mess of voices calling in contradiction to advance, assist or retreat. But it was too late. The magick of these Other Worldmen had turned the very sky against us, and now there was nowhere we could run, nowhere we could hide. High whistles cut the air, and seemingly from nothingness explosions tore the very ground asunder. We ran. All of us, all brave men of Christ, we all turned tail and fled, our mission all but forgotten in the face of such unimaginable slaughter.
I write this from a small cave in which I shelter. I can see them passing, these men, the ones who hunt me; clad not in armour but in misshapen robes of mottled green, in each of their hands the twisted artefacts that I believe tore holes in the bodies of my comrades. I pray to God to protect me from them, but I do not know if my prayers reach Him. We were wrong. We were so wrong. We came believing that He was with us. But we came from a world of God.
And this is a world of Satan.
| Dear Diary.
Damn! What else can I say? I signed up to protect not massacre. These bastards don't even understand what is going on before they are torn to shreds. The Fey. Dumbasses They decided our "non-magical realm" was ripe for the taking. The arrogance of centuries of technological stagnation caught up with them i guess.
its my job to kill them now. I haven't been able to eat for quite a while. I think i am off meat forever.... or at least indefinitely. some got in my mouth. its all over me and it never washes off. I don't think i will feel clean again. Day one was atrocious. day two was sickening and now it is day 26 and i just don't see the sense in it. maybe they are hoping we will run out of ammunition? The smell of carnage floats from the local Door sometimes. its why i dont eat.
This doesn't feel like winning. this doesn't feel like fighting at all. It isn't but by now i am sure whoever is left over there wants to kill us all. revenge? How do they justify this.
Tomorrow i hive "mop up" again. last time it was 4 hours of walking the fields stopping the screaming. I hope it stops. havent slept. |
Medieval Fantasy = Elves, Magic, Dwaves, dragons, etc... | [WP] A medieval fantasy army from an alternative dimension have decided to invade our world, only to discover too late, that we have guns and tanks. | *Third Morn of February, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen*
*Jerusalem*
The order is given. The news of it races through the ranks, filling every man whom hears it with that tightness of breath and chest and fist which only righteous fervour can bring. The Ninth crusade is called, and every man on every continent of God’s united Earth rushes to join it.
I admit, I had begun to doubt. Not in Him - for He of course is perfection and His plan also – but in the alchemists; those wizened, twisted sinners, their hearts full of low cunning and black magic. To tell truth, I doubted the wisdom behind the Realm’s tolerance of their continued existence, as I know did many. What could those decrepit old men, with their potions and parlour tricks, give us which the Lord himself would not in due time see fit to bestow upon the faithful? But the Lord works in mysterious ways; even, it seems, through the hands of heretics.
For it is undoubtedly His will which those wicked hands have wrought. Another world! Waiting, unseeable but by Him, betwixt the very fabric of reality itself; and now pierced by us. Had the message not borne the sigil of the High King, I would not have believed the words before me. But they are good and they are true. The Black Order in Geneva have opened a window to another world, and Benedict in Rome has laid out that call which all faithful men must answer.
And answer they shall. The birds have flown to all corners of the world, and every able soldier from New England to The Horn to Van Diemen’s Land will come. There is true jubilation tonight, as if a merry madness has gripped the entire city. People drink and dance and weep openly in the streets, praising His holy name, and it is not difficult to understand why. For or so long we have waited, desolate of direction and devoid of purpose. Two score years of doubt, of disillusion, fragmentation and infighting, as the Christian peoples of the world wondered “What now?” We had spread to every corner of the globe, put to the stake every non-believer and rooted out heresy in all its forms. When the last of the Maori savages lay slain, the last pockets of resistance burned away, we had thought our mission complete; and so, perhaps greedily, we had awaited salvation. But salvation did not come – despite our triumphs, despite our faith, despite our forging of a united Christian world. How had we failed, we cried. What more did the Lord desire, what more could he ask of us?
And now we know.
-----------------------------------
*Fifteenth Night of October, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Thirteen*
*Constantinople*
Our company joined that of the Tenochtitlan Brethren this morning. A savage people, only a few generations United, but their dedication to Him is unquestionable, if a little… sanguine. I had believed there little truth to the rumours of their habit of nailing heretics to the cross in honour of Our Lord’s perfect Sacrifice; but it seems I was mistaken. Regardless it was an enlightening, if unconventional, display of faith to witness, and one which the Brethren, purportedly, look to carry into the New World; as the heretics of our own Earth are, blessedly, in short supply.
The New World. The thought of it fills my every waking hour and echoes across my dreams. I can feel God’s guiding hand on my shoulder as I march towards the righteous host massing at its door. Another world, another Earth, full of heretics which He would have us purge; and purge them we shall. Captain Frederick today raised the question if they shall all be heretics, if the Lord is known of there or if they all stumble in darkness. I admit, we do not know – anything is possible. But regardless, I assured him, be there innocents among them, we will purge them all like gold in the fire. God will know His own.
-----------------------------------
*Second Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen*
*Geneva*
It is done. The last regiments of pike from Jakarta arrived this morning, and the Order of the Antarctic this afternoon - the latter almost twice the height of a normal man, armoured in insulating plate as they were. The host is gathered, almost a billion strong, of lance and sword and horses. I am too excited to sleep. Tomorrow, we bring the Unity of the Lord to the New World.
-----------------------------------
*Fourth Night of April, Year of Our Lord Twenty-Hundred and Fourteen*
**Hell**
Lord protect me. I do not know if anyone will ever find this, but please, tell the host to turn back. We did not understand this world, the magicks its peoples wield. We came to conquer, but we are undone. Lord save us. It seemed so easy. The first town was defenceless, no spears nor clubs nor even the meanest armour, though it hummed with the movement of twisted machines. The second was the same, its people running in panic at our advance, cattle to the slaughter.
But then came the third. We had barely got within a bow’s length of the first house when the air cracked as if with thunder, short sharp bursts, and suddenly my companions fell dying around me, holes appearing as if by witchcraft in their armour and their lifeblood draining from them. I do not know how it is possible; I have seen the chestplates of these men deflect swings of a broadsword, but they punctured now like wet paper against this unseen force. And this was only the beginning.
From over the plains, rolling fortresses set upon us, like iron carriages but drawn by no horses I could perceive. From them came deafening booms, and I could only watch in horror as entire battalions simply disintegrated in blasts of dust and fire. We stormed them, losing a hundred men for every one that survived, but our charge was for nought, for our steel could not hurt them, our arrows did not pierce, and even the rocks that our engines hurled broke hopelessly upon their sides. It was madness; thousands slaughtered, maybe millions, a discord mess of voices calling in contradiction to advance, assist or retreat. But it was too late. The magick of these Other Worldmen had turned the very sky against us, and now there was nowhere we could run, nowhere we could hide. High whistles cut the air, and seemingly from nothingness explosions tore the very ground asunder. We ran. All of us, all brave men of Christ, we all turned tail and fled, our mission all but forgotten in the face of such unimaginable slaughter.
I write this from a small cave in which I shelter. I can see them passing, these men, the ones who hunt me; clad not in armour but in misshapen robes of mottled green, in each of their hands the twisted artefacts that I believe tore holes in the bodies of my comrades. I pray to God to protect me from them, but I do not know if my prayers reach Him. We were wrong. We were so wrong. We came believing that He was with us. But we came from a world of God.
And this is a world of Satan.
| The high council never anticipated this, the unified army was sent away to conquer what was thought of as a poor peasantry land. Nothing have returned except tales of great suffering for their kinsmen. 80,000 elves, dwarves, humans, and beastman were sent with hopes of plundering the what little wealth the other side holds.
Now senator Demetrius, speaker of the elves is in a predicament, all of the forces were lost, and his efforts to secure a position for himself in the land on the other side of the portal faded. Not only did the humans want his head on a plate, but now strange silver swords have flew through the portal, and the cities around the area have been burned away by strange magic that does nothing but kill...
3 Months later...
The foreign army now stands outside the gates of Dunsaine, the capital of the Humans. Strange iron chariots that spew fire and shatter walls have been all but undefeated by the arcane of the academy. Their soldier holds sticks that blew lightning that can kill all but the most armored soldier.
The garrison surrenders and the royal palace now fly a blue flag with a map on it, a grave insult to the efforts of Demetrius. Efforts to slow down the invasion have failed as the human cities fell, leaving an open path into the elven home lands. Demetrius speculate that various factions are trying to negotiate a peace, but that isn't his greatest concern. A rumor of a coup is flying, with the enemy at hand his attention can't be divided... |
[WP] The Good Guy wins the day but doesn't get the girl. Why? | "Wait, you won what?"
"A sex robot, Jenny. I won a goddamn sex robot," said Jerry.
She smiled mischievously. "How did that happen?"
"I entered a contest at the home-robotics website and a month later they called me. Turns out I actually entered a contest at homo-robotics. I was hoping to get a gutter cleaner. Instead I got a robot that looks like a 16 year old girl. Classy, eh?"
She laughed. "So where is it?"
"No where. I told them to keep it. They wouldn't trade anything and they're looking into giving me the cash equivalent. After taxes its not a lot of money. Not even enough for a proper gutter cleaning robot."
"Why don't you sell her?"
"You honestly want me to have them ship a barely legal sexbot to my home and then put it up on craigslist. Do you have any idea the kinds of people who would be coming over to see it. I can't imagine haggling with them."
Jenny smiled, "You could say, 'Look at this realistic plastic vagina' its brand new! She's a virgin! I won't take under $10,000. Look at all the little outfits she comes with."
Jerry raised an eyebrow, "Oh I never thought about that. They must come with all sorts of pervy outfits. Cheerleader, secretary, etc."
"Well, I'm proud of you. A lot of guys would have just kept it and hid in their closet as their secret shame." She looked down at her watch, "Well I gotta run."
Jerry hugged her goodbye and showed her the door. A moment later he was on the phone, "So.. can you ship her in discreet packaging? Does she come with a cheerleader outfit? Pom-poms as well? No?"
Jerry paused for a moment, said, "Fine, just keep her and send me the goddamn cash," and angrily hung up the phone. | "Hang on baby! Its gonna be a Bumpy ride!"
Eric Steel pressed down hard on the accelarator. The monster truck burst through the walls of the warehouse where the nuclear weapons were being sold off. Dozens of terrorists were crushed to death, as well as shot to bits by the M16 Steel was firing out the window of his truck.
Finally, the room was empty, except for two other people. Stacey Ironthighs, supermodel turned FBI informant, was being held hostage by terrorist leader, Don Blackwell.
"Its over blackwell!" Yelled Steel, reving the engines of his monster truck.
"No Mr.Steel! Leave down your gun and step out of truck! Or the girl dies!"
Stacy whimpered as Eric placed his gun on the seat and slowly stepped out of the monster truck. Don Blackwell pointed the gun at him.
"The difference between us Mr.Steel." He sneered, "Is I know how this world works. Necessary Evil is inevitable, and I am merely making my mark on the planet. But you never got the point of that did you?"
"No blackwell." Steel retorted, "But I do have a point for you!"
Steel wiped a knife out from his sleeve and tossed it through the air, sticking directly into blackwells forehead. He gasped, wide eyed before collapsing backwards to the ground.
Eric turned to Stacey "Now how about you and I get to the point, eh baby?" He wise cracked, smoothly.
"Uh...you O.K?"
Stacey was rocking back and forth on the ground, covered in blood, crying uncontrollable. Eric feebly attempted to console her before she screamed, knocking his hands away, then rolling in the fetul position sobbing and laughing manically.
When the police arrived, Stacey was taken to hosptial before being transferred to a home for the mentally ill, being treated with manic depression and post truamatic stress disorder.
She was there for the rest of her life... |
|
[WP] The Good Guy wins the day but doesn't get the girl. Why? | "Wait, you won what?"
"A sex robot, Jenny. I won a goddamn sex robot," said Jerry.
She smiled mischievously. "How did that happen?"
"I entered a contest at the home-robotics website and a month later they called me. Turns out I actually entered a contest at homo-robotics. I was hoping to get a gutter cleaner. Instead I got a robot that looks like a 16 year old girl. Classy, eh?"
She laughed. "So where is it?"
"No where. I told them to keep it. They wouldn't trade anything and they're looking into giving me the cash equivalent. After taxes its not a lot of money. Not even enough for a proper gutter cleaning robot."
"Why don't you sell her?"
"You honestly want me to have them ship a barely legal sexbot to my home and then put it up on craigslist. Do you have any idea the kinds of people who would be coming over to see it. I can't imagine haggling with them."
Jenny smiled, "You could say, 'Look at this realistic plastic vagina' its brand new! She's a virgin! I won't take under $10,000. Look at all the little outfits she comes with."
Jerry raised an eyebrow, "Oh I never thought about that. They must come with all sorts of pervy outfits. Cheerleader, secretary, etc."
"Well, I'm proud of you. A lot of guys would have just kept it and hid in their closet as their secret shame." She looked down at her watch, "Well I gotta run."
Jerry hugged her goodbye and showed her the door. A moment later he was on the phone, "So.. can you ship her in discreet packaging? Does she come with a cheerleader outfit? Pom-poms as well? No?"
Jerry paused for a moment, said, "Fine, just keep her and send me the goddamn cash," and angrily hung up the phone. | The dragon slithered around the lake of molten gold admiring the shine of the sun and the occasional splash as bubbles rose to the surface.
Hidden behind the rock, I prepared myself for the fight. The heat and the fear forced me to give up the heavy metal platemail as the sweat dripped from my skin in torrents. I inspected my blade checking it's edge. The hilt was silver, a gift from my father who swore to protect his family with it. I will continue his oath and protect my family.
The dragon has its gold, I'll keep my silver.
I crouched, waiting for my chance. The beast was huge, its tail seemed to sense the slightest change in the wind. Slowly, I crept from hiding trying to stay behind the monster. I tiptoed in between the bones of those who fell before. They fought for the dragons gold, I fight for my family.
"SNAP"
The dragon turned faster than I could have expected possible. My hand shot up punching the leathery face while my blade was on the ground lying useless in the dirt. The dragon snapped at my arm clearly unperturbed by my first blow. I ducked and rolled under the dragon's underbelly and stuck my dagger into its gut.
The sound was terrible. A screeching lizard lunged towards me tying itself into a knot. The jaws wrapped around my dagger snapping the handle, the blade remained under the scales.
I used this time to dart to my silver on the ground ready for the dragon's advance. In an instant it was over. My blade stuck into the dragon's neck as it collapsed into its golden pool.
I lost my father's blade but we won't need it anymore. My blood ran from my body but I felt content. My family is safe now. My sons can grow stronger and they can look after their sisters and wives. Just like how my husband looked after me before the dragon came.
|
|
[WP] The Good Guy wins the day but doesn't get the girl. Why? | "Wait, you won what?"
"A sex robot, Jenny. I won a goddamn sex robot," said Jerry.
She smiled mischievously. "How did that happen?"
"I entered a contest at the home-robotics website and a month later they called me. Turns out I actually entered a contest at homo-robotics. I was hoping to get a gutter cleaner. Instead I got a robot that looks like a 16 year old girl. Classy, eh?"
She laughed. "So where is it?"
"No where. I told them to keep it. They wouldn't trade anything and they're looking into giving me the cash equivalent. After taxes its not a lot of money. Not even enough for a proper gutter cleaning robot."
"Why don't you sell her?"
"You honestly want me to have them ship a barely legal sexbot to my home and then put it up on craigslist. Do you have any idea the kinds of people who would be coming over to see it. I can't imagine haggling with them."
Jenny smiled, "You could say, 'Look at this realistic plastic vagina' its brand new! She's a virgin! I won't take under $10,000. Look at all the little outfits she comes with."
Jerry raised an eyebrow, "Oh I never thought about that. They must come with all sorts of pervy outfits. Cheerleader, secretary, etc."
"Well, I'm proud of you. A lot of guys would have just kept it and hid in their closet as their secret shame." She looked down at her watch, "Well I gotta run."
Jerry hugged her goodbye and showed her the door. A moment later he was on the phone, "So.. can you ship her in discreet packaging? Does she come with a cheerleader outfit? Pom-poms as well? No?"
Jerry paused for a moment, said, "Fine, just keep her and send me the goddamn cash," and angrily hung up the phone. | Echol led his people through the spiral tower, from floor to floor, cutting down The Monarchy’s soldiers, the echoes of freedom finally ringing through the oppression that had held his people so long. As they ascended from floor to floor, the darkened, slit windows revealed the city below, in shambles as it devoured itself. The dark suited soldiers were being trampled under the weight of the citizenry and all of their riot suppression tools were being commandeered and used against them. Fires blazed against the rickety skeletons of once proud government buildings as they burned holes into the concrete below.
All his rage, all of his impetus behind fighting had started with that one moment fifteen years ago when they took Genira. With one fluid movement, his wife had disappeared from his grasp and into a transport truck bound for the labor camps. The door had closed on her, and had closed on their life together. Echol could only fathom revenge.
Now, he had taken his revenge and turned it into justice for his people. He had delivered them victory over their alien oppressors, had brought them to the gates of the Monarchy’s holds and torn them down. All Echol had to do now was confront the faceless one- The masked ruler. The holder of all economic and political power- the singular dictator that clutched Echol’s world and choked out its joy stood watching his rebellion at the top of this citadel. Soon Echol would feel the ruler collapse under his grasp. Pushing through the mechanized guards in the last chamber and smashing their machine bodies against the walls and the ground, Echol triumphantly strolled through the doors of the ruler’s perch. Standing in front of the long tinted triangular window, watching missiles darting up from the planet surface to knock down incoming troop transports, the long black cape of the faceless one flowed. The looming figure turned, the face still crowded by shadows as Echol lifted his gun.
“I have waited a very long time for this day,” he told the faceless one. “You took away all that I had, destroyed everything I loved and sacrificed it all to a power I loathe. You have stripped my people of their dignity, their families and their love. All that lives in us now is hatred and vengeance. Today, with your death, that will all be over.
“But will it ever really end, Echol,” said a woman’s voice- one Echol recognized. As the faceless one stepped out of the shadows, Echol saw the face that he had always longed to see again.
There stood Genira, her black hair straight and sleek, flowing into the long black capes that hid her slender body. She stood atop the circular pedestal that presented the faceless one during addresses to the public and looked down on her former husband as the pistol wavered in his hand. “Will the violence…the bloodshed, will it ever stop? Do your people…do our people even understand how?” she asked him. He felt his hand quaking as he watched her, tears streaming from his eyes.
“What are you waiting for?!” yelled one of his comrades. “Kill her!” But Echol couldn’t. He felt the pistol drop from his hands as his comrades rushed forward, pummelling her with ionized bolts, her body sizzling and crackling as she shrieked and cried out. That was the last he heard of his lover, and the last of The Monarchy. As he collapsed onto his knees and sobbed among the rushing forward, victorious crowd of rebels, cheers and joy surrounded him.
His people were free.
|
|
How do you write a goodbye letter to the world? How do you write a letter after you've been given a second chance at life? You can choose to write either letter or both. | [WP] A young man is going into a surgery with a 50/50 shot of dying or living. The night before he leaves two letters on his desk, one labeled "If I live" and one labeled "If I die". What do the letters say? | As Collin was wheeled out to surgery he pressed two folded pieces of folded cardboard paper into the hands of his favorite nurse.
**If I liv** No one getz my toy bo^x and mommy get me icream DaDDy have to smile more Docter haz to stop hurting me
**if I dy** All my toys go to DaDDy | If I Die
Mom, if you're reading this, I'm probably dead. If I'd survived the operation, you wouldn't be reading this. You never come into my room. Not even to clean. So I know that I'm dead. Please don't be sad. There was no way to help it. The doctors treated my heart as soon as they could, and even with a transplant, the chances were that I would die eventually. I'm in a better place now. My will is enclosed, and so are some pictures I kept that I really liked. Please, Mom. Try to move on. I don't want you in pain.
-David
If I Live - Mom, don't open, just burn.
If I'm reading this, then the doctor's saved me. Take the poison again. Death is the only escape left. |
[WP] Write the script for Passion of the Christ 2: Electric Boogaloo | WARNING: Lots of swearing and highly sacrilegious. You have been warned.
Peter: I can't believe it, he's really dead.
Paul: Yeah, it's... surreal.
John: And to think, it was all Judas. We were like best friends.
Simon Peter: And now everyone's looking for us and trying to kill us. They could be outside the door right no-
**knock knock knock**
Thomas: Jesus Christ!!
*The door gets kick down, in walks Jesus, clothed from head to toe in Hollister and wearing some Oakley shades.*
Jesus: You called?
*Jesus puts the bag on the table. General confusion among the disciples*
Paul: My Lord? Is that really you?
Jesus: Of course it is you little bitch! Am I right?
Thomas: I won't believe you until I stick my hands in your wounds.
Jesus: Wow! Look at this queer! *nudges Paul* You're into some kinky shit Thomas. Here you go! *Jesus shoves his middle finger through the wound in his hand and gives Thomas the bird.*
Peter: So, what happened?
Jesus: Don't give me that you little fuck! You denied me three times!
Peter: My Lord, I, uh I'm... I... uh...
Jesus: Damn it man calm down! It was a joke you retard.
*Enter Mary Magdalene*
Mary: Have you heard! Jesus is risen!
Jesus: I'm already here, whore!
Mary: Mmm, sorry stud...
*Mary comes up behind Jesus and hugs him, she starts rubbing his ripply, muscular chest with her lithe, feminine hands*
Simon Peter: Mary! What are you doing! How dare you be so indecent!
Jesus: Shut up faggot.
John: So how are you alive?
Jesus: Jesus it's never good enough for you pussies to just do shit, I've gotta explain it to! Long story short I owed a lot of people a lot of money that I borrowed. I've got enough to retire comfortably for one thousand years in a secret location on the coast to pick up later and I didn't plan on giving it all back so I paid of the Pharisees and Pontius Pilate to fake my death. Then I hid out for a couple of hours and gave Mary the best sex of her life!
Andrew: So Judas is still alive!
Jesus: Ohhh, no he didn't know. He's really dead. He betrayed me with a kiss though. What a queer.
Andrew: You asshole! You were gone for three days!
*Andrew charges at Jesus, fist raised in attack. Jesus doesn't flinch as he grabs Andrew's head and slams it into the table.*
Jesus: Never liked him anyway.
John: My Lord...
Jesus: And stop with all this, "My lord" shit! It's getting annoying.
John: Would you rather I call you the Messiah?
Jesus: No! Call me, Blade.
Peter: So why have you appeared to us now my Lor- ...Blade.
Jesus: Thank you. I'm takin' this bitch and 11 other whores with me to Fiji to relax in style! I'm here to extend you an invita- OOF!
*Andrew stands over Jesus' crumpled body clutching a wooden plank.*
Andrew: No one hears of this. EVER. *He scans the room.* Jesus died on that cross. That's the end of the story.
Mary: Well, you see, I kinda already told some people.
Andrew: Great! Just great. Alright. He was resurrected and came to visit us before going on his way to heaven. That's the official story. John and Peter grab shovels and go out back to dig a hole. Simon and Paul get over here and wrap up Jesus in the table cloth so we can bury him when they finish. Mary, if you ever tell anyone what you saw in this room today, I will kill you. Understood?
*Mary sheepishly nods*
Andrew: Good. Thomas, we've got some books to write.
*Role credits and sneak peek for Passion of the Christ 3: The Quickening*
EDIT: Had Peter doing two things at once. Edited for continuity's sake. | Nice try, Hollywood. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | Melancholy was the prevailing sentiment. Not sorrow or sadness. We had long disposed of those trivialities and, as such, had largely forgotten how to feel them. Melancholy had managed to stick around, however.
It was a shame it took us so long to reach the heights we did. 2 billion years seems like such a short time for us to use reality as our plaything. Such a short time for the life forms of the universe - machinic, organic, and innumerable other sentient forms - to finally get down to the busy work of love and creation.
Long ago, we had freed ourselves from the vicissitudes of the perpetual struggle for existence that characterised so much of all our histories. So much wasted life. But now, having basked in what the shallow philosophies of yestereons would have perhaps named utopia, we faced the end of it all. The end of all that we had created and all that we still hoped to create. Our dreams could not surpass the wilting of the stars.
Experiencing the beautiful and novel is always inevitably traumatic because it always ends. This was the wisdom that even the conglomeration of innumerable sentiences descended from a trillion civilisations found easy to forget once they had found perfection.
No. Not perfection. There had for a long time been no end goal. To seek perfection would be to seek cessation, a *telos*, and to seek cessation would be to seek the date of one's own death. But, alas, the motions set on their way in the first seconds of the universe had decided our end date for us. How cruel joy is to be so callous as to end.
So we all watched in our own ways - as our biologies, or lack thereof, allowed. Few positioned themselves in the immediate vicinity of the last star. That star which had a multitude of names in many languages, all of them melancholic. Most realised that for all of us to get within even a lightyear (another arbitrary measurement based on the orbit of some dead planet) of the last star would leave little room for the rest to mourn in their own ways. Such was the disposition of sentiences who had known nothing but empathy and compassion for their long existences. Even as the last hope for the future faded to darkness we still clung to the love that had given us meaning through the millennia.
And we all watched.
Of course, like so many banal realities, there was no spectacle. No bright lights to herald the coming of the end of the time of life. Just the completion of a slow process whereby the star ceased to output energy and went cold, as a billion stars had hitherto done. The exact moment when the star would cease to produce energy had long been calculated. Extremely long in fact. Back in the youth of our grandeur when even the proof of the end did not seem to make it any more inevitable.
Few would seek to go back to those days because what we had produced in the interim was... beyond words. Even the most modest observer could not help but see that we had created space for every desire and form, every movement of love and kindness imaginable, every expression of beauty and reciprocal kinship.
No, I misspoke again. Not *every* such things. Climbing to such heights but gave us a better view of what we could foster. With every elevation of grandeur the horizon got further and further away. *That* was the beauty of our cooperation. And while the universe seemed spatially and temporally boundless it lasted.
No way to perpetuate life for eternity had been found. All energy would eventually be expended, dissipated and blend with the flat hum of the scream of the birth of the universe. The first word spoken by the cosmos would also be its last. Of course, stars and other energetic forms had been dying for millennia now. Nature is so often dull and irksome in its grand cataclysms. The slow depletion of harnessable energy in the universe was merely another obstacle of life that we overcame with ease, at least for some time. Cold stars and dead planets were turned into useable energy. They would continue to provide such support even for millennia after the last star had itself gone cold. This was different though. The death of the universe had been slow and creeping, but the quiet death of the final star had provided us with a milestone to assure us that the age of life was ending.
An old tale of a civilisation whose descendants had long become part of the social milieu spoke of a being who wished to, despite not - as some do - biologically possessing the means to do so, fly from the surface of their planet to the star around which it orbited. The being devised implements that extended its own appendages to mimic the flying mechanisms of many other beings on that planet. It broke the nuisance of gravity and ascended towards its goal only to find that once it got close the star melted its means of ascension and caused the being to tumble back to the ground. It seems we find ourselves in a similar situation. However, our desires did not melt. Instead, we overcame the cruelties that tied our ancestors to pitiful existences on orbiting rocks and spread forth through the heavens surpassing even the wildest dreams of the most inventive superstitions of bygone eras. But instead of melting we freeze. Our demise is not a quick fall triggered by heat and the greedy attraction of a rock. Our demise is the same as that of the last star: long and cold.
Thus, melancholy prevails. We still love and we still create but in nothing like the quantities of our grand era and, all the time, with the knowledge that we and our fruits will wither and die as the stars have done.
In time, the overriding expression of the universe will be the dissipated murmur of its birth. Our existences will have been but the opening splutter of the cosmos' perpetual, monotonous wail. In that short moment we have found meaning. But this is a universe that cares nothing for such trivialities. | Everybody loves a story.
The only problem would be that the universe, despite its set-up, is ambivalent on the matter. No matter how many case studies we may point at, no matter the drama of the past or present, and most certainly no matter what miniature extravagances we may dilute ourselves with, the way of things passing is with a subtle withering. This is similar to how things were expected as we survived. We expected a vast intergalactic community, to be bound together in brotherly accords or to dramatically have at each others throats like Cain were his own sibling. However, such was not the case. We were alone.
To that end, we slogged along through our being. Gradually, we expanded. First to Mars, then the Moon, then we spent some time wondering around the asteroid belt, our ever-present microscopic drama sliding along as intended. Wars were fought, as they should have been, heroic stands were made and broken with equal dramatic fervor. Over time, however, our expansion made our grand plays untenable. Our second act was one of disappointment and peace. And so, our dramas became smaller.
Now, here I stand, huddled in front of a final beacon. I received our message, our final dramatic plea. It only stood to reason that in light of our discovery, referring to ourselves inclusively made the most dramatic sense. After all, that is what the third act is, isn't it? The resolution, the coming together. That is how we wrap up stories, isn't it?
And everybody loves a good story. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | "Darryn! There it is!”
“I know damn well where it is, it’s the last bit of light in the thrice-damned Universe Maria!”
Giselus VIII, last star of the known universe, glowed steady and mild. Brow furrowed, hands knuckle-white on the controls, Darryn navigated the leaky tub they had named Genie into close orbit. From a distance, millions of sensors blared millions of warnings on millions of starships in millions of different languages. They were all ignored. All races, all species, were focused on one thing, and one thing only: conservation of energy. As the Universe contracted, as heat vanished into nothingness, and as stars began to blink out of existence, Darryn’s people knew it would only be a matter of time before they would be forced into extinction, as did many other inhabitants of this dying universe.
But while others chose to live in blissful ignorance, the people of Araxis came together, put aside their petty differences and united in a common cause. Their goal was simple, yet impossibly difficult: defeat entropy. Millions of years of research, that spanned hundreds of thousands of generations and solar systems, and the culmination was a single, dilapidated starship, crowded around a dying star among the other spacefarers like moths dancing around a flame.
“Do you think it will work?” Maria asked. Darryn could only shrug.
“What have we got to lose? Not like we’re gonna live much longer anyhow.”
Maria felt a knot of anxiety deep in her stomach. She looked out one window and saw little specks of light in the inky blackness of space. They weren’t stars. They were other ships, larger than hers and smaller, all just hanging there, waiting for the inevitable to occur.
“We don’t have much juice left in old Genie,” Darryn warned. “The engines are off, but our life support and internal systems still soak up fuel like a dry sponge.”
“What about the gravity net?” Maria asked. Darryn shook his head.
“Gone. Even still, we’re not orbiting fast enough to generate surplus power.” Darryn paused. “We’ve got one chance, Maria. One chance to change the universe.”
“What if… what if it works?” Maria asked. Darryn blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. What if it did work? What then? The device wouldn’t save them. It wouldn’t save anyone here. They were all dead creatures walking, just going through the motions until the end finally came.
“If it works then… hope springs anew,” Darryn replied. He blinked again. Strange. His eyes were watering. He gazed out the cockpit and saw Giselis burning and slowly spinning. They were the universe’s last hope, and if they succeeded then no one would know of their victory. They had fled their home planet just as their own star consumed them. They watched, screaming in agony, wailing and kicking until the cryo procedure sent them into a deep sleep, every single planet their species had once inhabited was incinerated. Every man, every woman and child, dead, and they died not knowing if all their efforts had been vain.
“If it works then we were right, and we did the right thing,” Darryn continued. Then he looked at Maria, who was weeping freely, and held out his hand. “Are you ready?”
Maria nodded. “Let’s do it together,” she said, and stepped up beside Darryn at the controls. Pushing several buttons in sequence activated the device they had stashed in the cargo hold. Darryn broke free of Giselus’ orbit and pointed the starship directly at the star’s fading heart.
“Time to reboot,” he said, and together they accelerated directly towards the star. The other creatures watched with indifference. They had seen many others choosing to end their lives by quick incineration than by slow suffocation, and chances were they would see many more before the end.
Genie accelerated. The two occupants held each other tightly. It was cold. But it was bright. So, so bright. The device whirred, the closer to the star it got the more energy it siphoned. Soon it was screaming, so loud, and glowing as though it were a star of its own.
Then the glowing ended, and so did everything else, for one, brief, picosecond. | Everybody loves a story.
The only problem would be that the universe, despite its set-up, is ambivalent on the matter. No matter how many case studies we may point at, no matter the drama of the past or present, and most certainly no matter what miniature extravagances we may dilute ourselves with, the way of things passing is with a subtle withering. This is similar to how things were expected as we survived. We expected a vast intergalactic community, to be bound together in brotherly accords or to dramatically have at each others throats like Cain were his own sibling. However, such was not the case. We were alone.
To that end, we slogged along through our being. Gradually, we expanded. First to Mars, then the Moon, then we spent some time wondering around the asteroid belt, our ever-present microscopic drama sliding along as intended. Wars were fought, as they should have been, heroic stands were made and broken with equal dramatic fervor. Over time, however, our expansion made our grand plays untenable. Our second act was one of disappointment and peace. And so, our dramas became smaller.
Now, here I stand, huddled in front of a final beacon. I received our message, our final dramatic plea. It only stood to reason that in light of our discovery, referring to ourselves inclusively made the most dramatic sense. After all, that is what the third act is, isn't it? The resolution, the coming together. That is how we wrap up stories, isn't it?
And everybody loves a good story. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | Lieutenant Staravyn, a mature human, strode forward as the alarm sounded around him. The dull red lights pulsed around him from the hallway lights as he joined the frantic flow of rushing personnel. Code Red alerts were serious things that excused no idleness.
Farrah, the mature Selk-Trigan, on the back of his head shifted uncomfortably as she picked up on his agitation. She was a very calm and tranquil person but she was also very sensitive to negative emotions. They were close enough that his agitation became her agitation.
Her twelve tentacles flexed around his head while he weaved around other personal and entered the corridors to the mobile fighter hangers. It was like how humans wrung their hands in nervousness. Her octopus like body writhed gently against the back of his head but he barely noticed. They had been through these situations many times.
Farrah’s thoughts flittered and expanded as they got closer. The Code Red meant impending battle. She triple checked to make sure that her supporting legs were still holding her up. Her suckers were firmly adhered to Staravyn's skin and hard suit as he strode forward.
While her species were not very heavy, but on a human head it was definitely uncomfortable for them. So she used her own legs to maintain her perch. This kept her weight of his head and onto the study body below.
Her thoughts kept leaking into his and she envied him yet again. He could so easily create mental walls that filtered out her thoughts from his own. Selkies had no such ability and it was both a blessing a curse.
With other Selkies she became a piece of a greater whole, yet with the other species she became a pronounced individual and she was often uncertain which one she preferred. Yet she always returned to Staravyn and this had been so with their last two centuries together.
She had now grown to dislike being separated from him for long periods of time despite her occasional desire to join with a pod of thought. He also felt the same way when their thoughts meshed together. It came and ebbed like the tide and their thoughts intersected as effortless as water on a beach. Natural and unhindered.
The traffic died down as they entered the space fighter subsections. It was long stretches of land that housed the orbital fortress's mobile space fighters. From here, the Athena, they could launch from here to intercept whatever danger that threatened the Union of the Red Star. The single planet that they controlled was precious as it was their only home.
For this was the last star. The final bastion of natural light and, Wick, the red dwarf still burned with enough fuel for another hundred million years. Around this star was a hundred planets that were artificially transferred and housed the multitudes of surviving species. Some cooperative and other xenophobic.
Within the Hundred Planet Alignment, they owned only one piece of it and the rest were heavily defended by similar factions that needed them for their own survival. This final bastion of light was theirs and theirs alone.
They shared what little land they could afford but in the end what was, was. There was no more stars and no more room for planets. The current alignment of the hundred worlds was what was optimal for maximum density before planetary gravity began to seriously interfere with each other.
The Disaster of the Thirty almost fifty years ago was testament to those who ignored the alignment as thirty worlds fell pretty to the red dwarf’s gravity well and were consumed by its slow burning fiery.
The Alliance of Digra, The Alliance of Three, The Entities of Quadrupeds, The Federation of Space Born, The Mountain, The Water, The Space Stars and thirty-three others were completely erased from the Wick as their planets were destroyed.
Here, at Wick, the final red star in the known universe. The stars had finally died and the many life forms had gathered here. The weak radiation was glorious to those who had once basked in the radiance of suns. Here was the last natural light. Here was the constant struggle to maintain their share.
Staravyn waited as the security system scanned his body and identified himself and Farrah. Her mind was oily today as agitation and abhorrence to war stained their thoughts and fueled her turmoil. He found it harder to connect to her when she was like this.
She would be shaky until they began to fly. Then she could concentrate on the mission and her mind would once again calm down. Focus was she lacked and focus she would soon get.
Farrah was always funny that way and he would never ask for more. He trusted her with his life and she trusted hers with his. Partners until the dark end.
The blast doors opened and the two walked through as Farrah picked up on others coming up behind them. He paid them no heed as their thoughts mingled again. She was beginning to calm as the large fighter docks came into view.
Part hallway and part port, the long and wide corridor had many windows leading to the empty space outside. The view of their blue planet, Aquarius, the 36th planet in the alignment, was a beautiful sight against the red rays of the sun.
Staravyn walked and nodded to fellow pilots and engineers. Their hard combat suits were recognizable even among the Hundred Planets. The assortment of Humans, Selk-Trigan, Valkor’es, Strin and Eueireie gathered never failed to impress.
Five species under one banner.
A mutually beneficial alliance of free people. They were only beaten by the Kingdom of Kings were they had almost a dozen races enslaved and controlled 3 whole planets. They had numbers but the Union of the Red Star had quality. Free people fighting to maintain their freedom.
They had lasted over a two thousand years this way and he would be damned before he failed to upkeep the legacy of their predecessors.
It took a long travel by automated walkway, but they made it to their fighter. A Humanoid Space Fighter, and he nodded to his Eueireie mechanic. The HSF was locked out behind a glass-steel wall and it was tethered by metal braces while many mechanical arms moved all around it.
The gelatinous worker burbled at him as its cylindrical body wobbled while thin tendrils quickly danced across the holographic display. The many mechanical arms smoothly responded and placed the finish touches on the fighter.
“Looking good Richie!” Staravyn complimented as he raised his fists and bumped a bunched up group of Richie's tendrils. Rich-Mineral was a bit goofy but he was unquestionably skilled as he was able to resurrect Staravyn’s HSF many times. Richie gurgled out a bunch of sounds that Farrah had to translate. The Selkies were great diplomats as Eerie speech made almost no sense to Humies.
Four dozen tendrils wrapped up and around Staravyn tightly. With little effort, Richie lifted Staravyn up to the odd sensory organs near the top of his body. It blurbled loudly and seriously while Farrah snickered as she translated.
'Bring Sofia back in once piece you amino scum, or else!'
Staravyn gave Richie a suave smile, “Of course buddy!”
Staravyn didn’t even need Farrah to translate Richie’s blurb of a disdainful sniff as the translucent, baby-blue man simply dropped him.
He smiled as Sofia began to warm up, the engines hummed and the space around it began to distort as the Omni-engine powered up. Though slower then Armoured Space Fighters, HSF has a magical of their own. Omni-directional engines could be better then Linear-directional engines but are always slower.
The door to the piloting pill opened. Staravyn stepped up and Farrah’s docile arms quickly grabbed onto the many hand holds inside. She helped him balance as he smoothly slid into the pill and her arms effortlessly strapped him in before she moved herself into her own small seat.
The outside arms gently grabbed the pill as the thick doors sealed shut and then fitted the pill into the fighter’s stomach. The pill then integrated the walls came to life as streams of data fed itself to the pilots.
Staravyn nodded for Farrah and he felt one of her tentacles reach out to touch his cheek. Her suckers gave him a dozen soft kisses for luck before he released the locks on Sofia. She floated there for a minute while Farrah insured that everything was good to go.
Selkies were excellent in data management, able to understand multiple streams of information while Humies were good with reaction and subtleties of thought driven controls. They made a perfect team in his not so honest opinion.
The selkies had great construction and AI supported systems but they were vastly outmatched in close combat that humies excelled in. Together they made a great team and with the addition of the other three races, they were incredible. There was a reason that the Union of the Red Star had lasted over two thousand years.
Cracking his neck, Staravyn locked in the coordinates to the battle sight just above the twelfth orbital fortress, Gaia, and blasted off to defend it from invaders of the bear like creatures of the Inter-Species Confederation.
This was their planet and they would all need to be eradicated before they began to give it up.
**
Edit for more sense.
Might update in the future with more fleshed out scenes. | Everybody loves a story.
The only problem would be that the universe, despite its set-up, is ambivalent on the matter. No matter how many case studies we may point at, no matter the drama of the past or present, and most certainly no matter what miniature extravagances we may dilute ourselves with, the way of things passing is with a subtle withering. This is similar to how things were expected as we survived. We expected a vast intergalactic community, to be bound together in brotherly accords or to dramatically have at each others throats like Cain were his own sibling. However, such was not the case. We were alone.
To that end, we slogged along through our being. Gradually, we expanded. First to Mars, then the Moon, then we spent some time wondering around the asteroid belt, our ever-present microscopic drama sliding along as intended. Wars were fought, as they should have been, heroic stands were made and broken with equal dramatic fervor. Over time, however, our expansion made our grand plays untenable. Our second act was one of disappointment and peace. And so, our dramas became smaller.
Now, here I stand, huddled in front of a final beacon. I received our message, our final dramatic plea. It only stood to reason that in light of our discovery, referring to ourselves inclusively made the most dramatic sense. After all, that is what the third act is, isn't it? The resolution, the coming together. That is how we wrap up stories, isn't it?
And everybody loves a good story. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | Alpha Sector Seven was just like any other star within the local galaxy Tau Three Theta. It had a yellow glow around it, feeding off yellow energy to yellow planets just like any other yellow star within the universe. It had a system of planets, 10 strong. One was a rocky world baked into a good crisp (serves seven); the second was – unfortunately – a very vibrant and lush planet that now has gotten baked into a good crisp, its lush and vibrant plant life serving only as dressing on the cookie world; the third was a world that used to have life but then one person made the foolish decision to take on the role of supreme leader and the fact that its planet now only baked into a nuclear flavoredtm crisp serves to show how that all went down; the fourth was the third planet’s sister planet, all self-absorbed with herself like any other sister planet, broken after the third’s untimely demise and now only serves to looks at the third’s cookie based world and reminisce about the good times; the fifth through seventh planets are also baked into a cookie, no shame in that however, it’s always nice to sometimes be a cookie now and again; people think that sometimes they shouldn’t permanently stay cookies, that’s what the eighth planet thought, wondering what happened to all the other planets that used to not be cookie planets; the ninth planet didn’t care about the fact that it was a cookie planet, it didn’t really care about anything, it was the coolest planet in the galaxy due to how little it cared, if the planet were a person it would have dark sunglasses, standing near the edge of the schoolyard brooding about stuff, it was a cool planet and nobody else thought any different in it; the tenth planet was actually a planet of milk.
Nobody really knew why the planet was made out of milk, or the fact that it should have been aged by now, but since all the other planets were cookies (save for that bitch of a fourth planet), it is logically sound that the fifth had to be a milk planet.
All of these planets rotated around its normal life, the fourth being a bitch and the tenth pondering it’s milkiness, around its yellow star that gave off yellow rays that baked the other cookie planets into even more severely baked cookie planets. All was right in this little solar system, and A.S.S was all right with being just A.S.S.
That was, until the start of the death of the universe. Out of the infinite wisdom of the universe approximately 325,413,612,102,503 different civilizations knew that the universe was about to kick the intergalactic bucket into the intergalactic grave, and approximately 993,000,982 civilizations tried to do something about the matter. No dice. All programs that tried to breach into another dimension ended with disaster, with many perishing due to the effects that interdimensional travel can have on the physical form. Other programs like lengthening the age of the universe only served to show how much bullshit the average civilization can produce, many just becoming snake oil programs that did nothing but to funnel money into a black hole. Actually, Civilization 5234:049092:12003:02:1 did just that, they threw their own money into a black hole to see what the effect would be like. Considering their money was spent nuclear rods, all it did was allow the residents of a completely different dimension to wonder how in god’s name their black hole is spitting out rods of nuclear waste at them.
In short, people were fucked right in the down under, and many waited for the upcoming death.
It did, stars going out bit by bit and black holes losing their energy and dissipating as well, residents of this universe started flocking and migrating to different star systems in order to find the last remaining star that would help them support life.
Fortunately, A.S.S was on their side. From its humble beginnings as the supporter of a series of cookie planets -- with one bitch of a planet and one milk planet being it’s oddballs – it soon gained popularity as the happenest place in the universe, with a myriad of civilizations travelling to this yellow planet to give it a dose of its yellow rays before its yellowness was the last thing that could ever be yellow in a universe that was increasingly becoming black. Every planet soon filled up to immense lengths, as septillion upon septillion of different races across the universe gathered here in order to try to become the last remaining life form on the planet. Approximately .0000000000000000000000000000000000003% of all the life forms that remained in the universe (carbon, methane, or otherwise-based) decided to make A.S.S their home as they settle for what might come next. The other life forms within the universe either died just not knowing about the situation, or cookied themselves into a crisp as their respective star systems went and kicked the bucket.
There, on the first planet, stood a single man that knew with about as much certainty as everyone else that everything is going to come to an end. He thought about the hilarity of the whole situation, his species stood so many tests and tribulations that it got him, a single man, all the way to the end of the universe. As he passed the vehicles under the parking lot he got a glimpse of one of the vehicles, completely black, no light reflected from it. His mind drew back to the elevator as he wondered about the possibility of a vehicle being so black that it can escape the universe. He didn’t mind about it. As the elevator ascended into the lobby he wondered about what to eat today. Of course, today of all days, is the end of the universe. He might just try eating that talking cow…
| Everybody loves a story.
The only problem would be that the universe, despite its set-up, is ambivalent on the matter. No matter how many case studies we may point at, no matter the drama of the past or present, and most certainly no matter what miniature extravagances we may dilute ourselves with, the way of things passing is with a subtle withering. This is similar to how things were expected as we survived. We expected a vast intergalactic community, to be bound together in brotherly accords or to dramatically have at each others throats like Cain were his own sibling. However, such was not the case. We were alone.
To that end, we slogged along through our being. Gradually, we expanded. First to Mars, then the Moon, then we spent some time wondering around the asteroid belt, our ever-present microscopic drama sliding along as intended. Wars were fought, as they should have been, heroic stands were made and broken with equal dramatic fervor. Over time, however, our expansion made our grand plays untenable. Our second act was one of disappointment and peace. And so, our dramas became smaller.
Now, here I stand, huddled in front of a final beacon. I received our message, our final dramatic plea. It only stood to reason that in light of our discovery, referring to ourselves inclusively made the most dramatic sense. After all, that is what the third act is, isn't it? The resolution, the coming together. That is how we wrap up stories, isn't it?
And everybody loves a good story. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | We did not find the forewarned mass mayhem when we reached The Star. Seeing the calm of no hope makes me understand that it was we fleeing that condemned Earth, not the dying Sun. We were a beacon of fruitless hope that turned mankind into clawing cornered savages. I'd apologize, but it doesn't matter.
Only here and now matters. Finally that trivial quote becomes inescapable. Thankfully, here and now is peace. In our acceptance of entropy there is the humanity we'd always hoped for. There is a blending of beings. Beautifully indescribable beings. Some are nothing more than a glimmer, their words conversing with your mind. Others would be considered monstrous. Yet, our gathering gives grace to all. Maybe we all are here to redeem our shameful departures from everything we've ever known.
It is only on personal levels that indiscretions abound. Ships have clustered together based on what their communities offer. Some have even taken to the two nearby planets to be together on solid ground. There are quite a few rising religions, but those I avoid. Similarly I cannot abide by those harboring their power to send one final plea to the edges of the known universe.
Instead, I melt through the masses searching for the one I left to find. I wade through the bodies of those experiencing as much as they can in their dying days. Substances are used. Accidental suicide appears abundant. Accidental because so many are pushing the boundaries that their bodies provide. Bodies. They're everywhere.
I flicker between the two major gatherings, one on terra firma, the other in a ship cluster. In these the bodies are one. Music transcending space and time pumps through the hearts of all as we blend into one mass movement. I recall the ancient raves of my past and how they pale. It is impossible not to take part. Mouths find mouths. Orifices find occupants. Everywhere we writhe.
My eyes and thoughts are the only part of me I own. They dart about in search of her hint of blue. There are many hues about, but never again has the universe produced such a sight. Nor will it. I found a group of her kind. Likewise I could see their oceans roll about on their skin, constantly churning. They told me that they didn't know
her before they took me there on the floor. It wasn't the same.
I spent the last light alone atop a mountain. As the final drops of morning died into the darkened ball of gas, I heard the howl rise from the gathering below. From my position I could hear the sorrow despite the desire for joy. We final few are not the heroes of our homes. We are not the survivors.
I abandoned you at our dying light and I am ashamed. You too were only human and yet you held onto hope for our kind, for our family. At last light it was to you I howled. You who loved the ocean, but didn't look like it.
*Error: Message not received.* | Everybody loves a story.
The only problem would be that the universe, despite its set-up, is ambivalent on the matter. No matter how many case studies we may point at, no matter the drama of the past or present, and most certainly no matter what miniature extravagances we may dilute ourselves with, the way of things passing is with a subtle withering. This is similar to how things were expected as we survived. We expected a vast intergalactic community, to be bound together in brotherly accords or to dramatically have at each others throats like Cain were his own sibling. However, such was not the case. We were alone.
To that end, we slogged along through our being. Gradually, we expanded. First to Mars, then the Moon, then we spent some time wondering around the asteroid belt, our ever-present microscopic drama sliding along as intended. Wars were fought, as they should have been, heroic stands were made and broken with equal dramatic fervor. Over time, however, our expansion made our grand plays untenable. Our second act was one of disappointment and peace. And so, our dramas became smaller.
Now, here I stand, huddled in front of a final beacon. I received our message, our final dramatic plea. It only stood to reason that in light of our discovery, referring to ourselves inclusively made the most dramatic sense. After all, that is what the third act is, isn't it? The resolution, the coming together. That is how we wrap up stories, isn't it?
And everybody loves a good story. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | "Darryn! There it is!”
“I know damn well where it is, it’s the last bit of light in the thrice-damned Universe Maria!”
Giselus VIII, last star of the known universe, glowed steady and mild. Brow furrowed, hands knuckle-white on the controls, Darryn navigated the leaky tub they had named Genie into close orbit. From a distance, millions of sensors blared millions of warnings on millions of starships in millions of different languages. They were all ignored. All races, all species, were focused on one thing, and one thing only: conservation of energy. As the Universe contracted, as heat vanished into nothingness, and as stars began to blink out of existence, Darryn’s people knew it would only be a matter of time before they would be forced into extinction, as did many other inhabitants of this dying universe.
But while others chose to live in blissful ignorance, the people of Araxis came together, put aside their petty differences and united in a common cause. Their goal was simple, yet impossibly difficult: defeat entropy. Millions of years of research, that spanned hundreds of thousands of generations and solar systems, and the culmination was a single, dilapidated starship, crowded around a dying star among the other spacefarers like moths dancing around a flame.
“Do you think it will work?” Maria asked. Darryn could only shrug.
“What have we got to lose? Not like we’re gonna live much longer anyhow.”
Maria felt a knot of anxiety deep in her stomach. She looked out one window and saw little specks of light in the inky blackness of space. They weren’t stars. They were other ships, larger than hers and smaller, all just hanging there, waiting for the inevitable to occur.
“We don’t have much juice left in old Genie,” Darryn warned. “The engines are off, but our life support and internal systems still soak up fuel like a dry sponge.”
“What about the gravity net?” Maria asked. Darryn shook his head.
“Gone. Even still, we’re not orbiting fast enough to generate surplus power.” Darryn paused. “We’ve got one chance, Maria. One chance to change the universe.”
“What if… what if it works?” Maria asked. Darryn blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. What if it did work? What then? The device wouldn’t save them. It wouldn’t save anyone here. They were all dead creatures walking, just going through the motions until the end finally came.
“If it works then… hope springs anew,” Darryn replied. He blinked again. Strange. His eyes were watering. He gazed out the cockpit and saw Giselis burning and slowly spinning. They were the universe’s last hope, and if they succeeded then no one would know of their victory. They had fled their home planet just as their own star consumed them. They watched, screaming in agony, wailing and kicking until the cryo procedure sent them into a deep sleep, every single planet their species had once inhabited was incinerated. Every man, every woman and child, dead, and they died not knowing if all their efforts had been vain.
“If it works then we were right, and we did the right thing,” Darryn continued. Then he looked at Maria, who was weeping freely, and held out his hand. “Are you ready?”
Maria nodded. “Let’s do it together,” she said, and stepped up beside Darryn at the controls. Pushing several buttons in sequence activated the device they had stashed in the cargo hold. Darryn broke free of Giselus’ orbit and pointed the starship directly at the star’s fading heart.
“Time to reboot,” he said, and together they accelerated directly towards the star. The other creatures watched with indifference. They had seen many others choosing to end their lives by quick incineration than by slow suffocation, and chances were they would see many more before the end.
Genie accelerated. The two occupants held each other tightly. It was cold. But it was bright. So, so bright. The device whirred, the closer to the star it got the more energy it siphoned. Soon it was screaming, so loud, and glowing as though it were a star of its own.
Then the glowing ended, and so did everything else, for one, brief, picosecond. | ***Stubborn***
It all happened so quickly, yet we were blind to it. An indescribable amount of lightyears away, we watched the universe slowly crumble. But what we were seeing was millions if not billions of centuries ago.
That is, until we made first contact and received grim news. Our star was the only one left besides Alpha Centariua, and it was dying. Hundreds of alien races gathered around us, clinging to what little space we had left. Mars overflowed with the most delicate and battered of the refugees. Saturn kept all of the ships and constructs, mostly barren, in reach. We began to break them down for supplies, constructing anything to save us. With every passing day more and more species vanished. We were vanishing too.
As i write this we still have a predicted 400 years. Not too long. Some of us have accepted that, believing they have fulfilled their dreams. Others are still in denial, constantly trying to find ways to 'defend' us. But from what? The thing that created us? An enemy? All of the questions go unanswered. Personally, i type this from the Cairo Station orbiting Earth, confident that everything will turn out okay in the end.
Now that ive finish this recollection of history, i am unsure of how it will be useful in any way. But perhaps thats why we landed on the Moon. Maybe thats the reason we went to Mars. Thats the entire reason we built the orbital cities like Cairo Station. Not because we wanted to, not because we had to, but because we *could*. Because thats in our *nature*. Sentient life might forget poverty, and war, and greed, but it will never outlive its desire to create. *To make anew.*
And above all, it will never, ever, *ever* give up. Because us living being are like that...stubborn. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | Lieutenant Staravyn, a mature human, strode forward as the alarm sounded around him. The dull red lights pulsed around him from the hallway lights as he joined the frantic flow of rushing personnel. Code Red alerts were serious things that excused no idleness.
Farrah, the mature Selk-Trigan, on the back of his head shifted uncomfortably as she picked up on his agitation. She was a very calm and tranquil person but she was also very sensitive to negative emotions. They were close enough that his agitation became her agitation.
Her twelve tentacles flexed around his head while he weaved around other personal and entered the corridors to the mobile fighter hangers. It was like how humans wrung their hands in nervousness. Her octopus like body writhed gently against the back of his head but he barely noticed. They had been through these situations many times.
Farrah’s thoughts flittered and expanded as they got closer. The Code Red meant impending battle. She triple checked to make sure that her supporting legs were still holding her up. Her suckers were firmly adhered to Staravyn's skin and hard suit as he strode forward.
While her species were not very heavy, but on a human head it was definitely uncomfortable for them. So she used her own legs to maintain her perch. This kept her weight of his head and onto the study body below.
Her thoughts kept leaking into his and she envied him yet again. He could so easily create mental walls that filtered out her thoughts from his own. Selkies had no such ability and it was both a blessing a curse.
With other Selkies she became a piece of a greater whole, yet with the other species she became a pronounced individual and she was often uncertain which one she preferred. Yet she always returned to Staravyn and this had been so with their last two centuries together.
She had now grown to dislike being separated from him for long periods of time despite her occasional desire to join with a pod of thought. He also felt the same way when their thoughts meshed together. It came and ebbed like the tide and their thoughts intersected as effortless as water on a beach. Natural and unhindered.
The traffic died down as they entered the space fighter subsections. It was long stretches of land that housed the orbital fortress's mobile space fighters. From here, the Athena, they could launch from here to intercept whatever danger that threatened the Union of the Red Star. The single planet that they controlled was precious as it was their only home.
For this was the last star. The final bastion of natural light and, Wick, the red dwarf still burned with enough fuel for another hundred million years. Around this star was a hundred planets that were artificially transferred and housed the multitudes of surviving species. Some cooperative and other xenophobic.
Within the Hundred Planet Alignment, they owned only one piece of it and the rest were heavily defended by similar factions that needed them for their own survival. This final bastion of light was theirs and theirs alone.
They shared what little land they could afford but in the end what was, was. There was no more stars and no more room for planets. The current alignment of the hundred worlds was what was optimal for maximum density before planetary gravity began to seriously interfere with each other.
The Disaster of the Thirty almost fifty years ago was testament to those who ignored the alignment as thirty worlds fell pretty to the red dwarf’s gravity well and were consumed by its slow burning fiery.
The Alliance of Digra, The Alliance of Three, The Entities of Quadrupeds, The Federation of Space Born, The Mountain, The Water, The Space Stars and thirty-three others were completely erased from the Wick as their planets were destroyed.
Here, at Wick, the final red star in the known universe. The stars had finally died and the many life forms had gathered here. The weak radiation was glorious to those who had once basked in the radiance of suns. Here was the last natural light. Here was the constant struggle to maintain their share.
Staravyn waited as the security system scanned his body and identified himself and Farrah. Her mind was oily today as agitation and abhorrence to war stained their thoughts and fueled her turmoil. He found it harder to connect to her when she was like this.
She would be shaky until they began to fly. Then she could concentrate on the mission and her mind would once again calm down. Focus was she lacked and focus she would soon get.
Farrah was always funny that way and he would never ask for more. He trusted her with his life and she trusted hers with his. Partners until the dark end.
The blast doors opened and the two walked through as Farrah picked up on others coming up behind them. He paid them no heed as their thoughts mingled again. She was beginning to calm as the large fighter docks came into view.
Part hallway and part port, the long and wide corridor had many windows leading to the empty space outside. The view of their blue planet, Aquarius, the 36th planet in the alignment, was a beautiful sight against the red rays of the sun.
Staravyn walked and nodded to fellow pilots and engineers. Their hard combat suits were recognizable even among the Hundred Planets. The assortment of Humans, Selk-Trigan, Valkor’es, Strin and Eueireie gathered never failed to impress.
Five species under one banner.
A mutually beneficial alliance of free people. They were only beaten by the Kingdom of Kings were they had almost a dozen races enslaved and controlled 3 whole planets. They had numbers but the Union of the Red Star had quality. Free people fighting to maintain their freedom.
They had lasted over a two thousand years this way and he would be damned before he failed to upkeep the legacy of their predecessors.
It took a long travel by automated walkway, but they made it to their fighter. A Humanoid Space Fighter, and he nodded to his Eueireie mechanic. The HSF was locked out behind a glass-steel wall and it was tethered by metal braces while many mechanical arms moved all around it.
The gelatinous worker burbled at him as its cylindrical body wobbled while thin tendrils quickly danced across the holographic display. The many mechanical arms smoothly responded and placed the finish touches on the fighter.
“Looking good Richie!” Staravyn complimented as he raised his fists and bumped a bunched up group of Richie's tendrils. Rich-Mineral was a bit goofy but he was unquestionably skilled as he was able to resurrect Staravyn’s HSF many times. Richie gurgled out a bunch of sounds that Farrah had to translate. The Selkies were great diplomats as Eerie speech made almost no sense to Humies.
Four dozen tendrils wrapped up and around Staravyn tightly. With little effort, Richie lifted Staravyn up to the odd sensory organs near the top of his body. It blurbled loudly and seriously while Farrah snickered as she translated.
'Bring Sofia back in once piece you amino scum, or else!'
Staravyn gave Richie a suave smile, “Of course buddy!”
Staravyn didn’t even need Farrah to translate Richie’s blurb of a disdainful sniff as the translucent, baby-blue man simply dropped him.
He smiled as Sofia began to warm up, the engines hummed and the space around it began to distort as the Omni-engine powered up. Though slower then Armoured Space Fighters, HSF has a magical of their own. Omni-directional engines could be better then Linear-directional engines but are always slower.
The door to the piloting pill opened. Staravyn stepped up and Farrah’s docile arms quickly grabbed onto the many hand holds inside. She helped him balance as he smoothly slid into the pill and her arms effortlessly strapped him in before she moved herself into her own small seat.
The outside arms gently grabbed the pill as the thick doors sealed shut and then fitted the pill into the fighter’s stomach. The pill then integrated the walls came to life as streams of data fed itself to the pilots.
Staravyn nodded for Farrah and he felt one of her tentacles reach out to touch his cheek. Her suckers gave him a dozen soft kisses for luck before he released the locks on Sofia. She floated there for a minute while Farrah insured that everything was good to go.
Selkies were excellent in data management, able to understand multiple streams of information while Humies were good with reaction and subtleties of thought driven controls. They made a perfect team in his not so honest opinion.
The selkies had great construction and AI supported systems but they were vastly outmatched in close combat that humies excelled in. Together they made a great team and with the addition of the other three races, they were incredible. There was a reason that the Union of the Red Star had lasted over two thousand years.
Cracking his neck, Staravyn locked in the coordinates to the battle sight just above the twelfth orbital fortress, Gaia, and blasted off to defend it from invaders of the bear like creatures of the Inter-Species Confederation.
This was their planet and they would all need to be eradicated before they began to give it up.
**
Edit for more sense.
Might update in the future with more fleshed out scenes. | ***Stubborn***
It all happened so quickly, yet we were blind to it. An indescribable amount of lightyears away, we watched the universe slowly crumble. But what we were seeing was millions if not billions of centuries ago.
That is, until we made first contact and received grim news. Our star was the only one left besides Alpha Centariua, and it was dying. Hundreds of alien races gathered around us, clinging to what little space we had left. Mars overflowed with the most delicate and battered of the refugees. Saturn kept all of the ships and constructs, mostly barren, in reach. We began to break them down for supplies, constructing anything to save us. With every passing day more and more species vanished. We were vanishing too.
As i write this we still have a predicted 400 years. Not too long. Some of us have accepted that, believing they have fulfilled their dreams. Others are still in denial, constantly trying to find ways to 'defend' us. But from what? The thing that created us? An enemy? All of the questions go unanswered. Personally, i type this from the Cairo Station orbiting Earth, confident that everything will turn out okay in the end.
Now that ive finish this recollection of history, i am unsure of how it will be useful in any way. But perhaps thats why we landed on the Moon. Maybe thats the reason we went to Mars. Thats the entire reason we built the orbital cities like Cairo Station. Not because we wanted to, not because we had to, but because we *could*. Because thats in our *nature*. Sentient life might forget poverty, and war, and greed, but it will never outlive its desire to create. *To make anew.*
And above all, it will never, ever, *ever* give up. Because us living being are like that...stubborn. |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | The sun burned and the people wept.
To each his own, a planet went.
Cold, dark, and alone. | 15 years we've been drifting, preserving our final fuel supplies in the event of a final showdown. With only 10 degrees of vision in front of us aided by a star and the other 350 empty, it's a bit difficult to detect other stargazer class ships. And by empty, no radiation or background noise of any sort. You could set off a flair and it's be brighter than 99% of the known universe, except the final star Eden.
Thankfully the solar class ships were abandoned when their battle-ready capabilities proved them inefficient for this period of time... when the final star was singing the chronicles of it's fallen ancestors. We recieved intel that the Final Light Lucifer alliance had access to a drifter class ship, but with added speed comes the cost of fuel. No way they could get a ship that inefficient all the way out here.
But what is here, exactly. The final sun, a lonely beacon of hope. The last source of energy in the known universe. And surrounding it, 3 planetary bodies. 2 terra class and 1 gassious class. We were 3 cycles away according to our best estimates. Not easy running a 10km long ship with just 100 men...
**sorry, getting late. If anyone wants me to continue let me know and i'll come back tomorrow** |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | Alpha Sector Seven was just like any other star within the local galaxy Tau Three Theta. It had a yellow glow around it, feeding off yellow energy to yellow planets just like any other yellow star within the universe. It had a system of planets, 10 strong. One was a rocky world baked into a good crisp (serves seven); the second was – unfortunately – a very vibrant and lush planet that now has gotten baked into a good crisp, its lush and vibrant plant life serving only as dressing on the cookie world; the third was a world that used to have life but then one person made the foolish decision to take on the role of supreme leader and the fact that its planet now only baked into a nuclear flavoredtm crisp serves to show how that all went down; the fourth was the third planet’s sister planet, all self-absorbed with herself like any other sister planet, broken after the third’s untimely demise and now only serves to looks at the third’s cookie based world and reminisce about the good times; the fifth through seventh planets are also baked into a cookie, no shame in that however, it’s always nice to sometimes be a cookie now and again; people think that sometimes they shouldn’t permanently stay cookies, that’s what the eighth planet thought, wondering what happened to all the other planets that used to not be cookie planets; the ninth planet didn’t care about the fact that it was a cookie planet, it didn’t really care about anything, it was the coolest planet in the galaxy due to how little it cared, if the planet were a person it would have dark sunglasses, standing near the edge of the schoolyard brooding about stuff, it was a cool planet and nobody else thought any different in it; the tenth planet was actually a planet of milk.
Nobody really knew why the planet was made out of milk, or the fact that it should have been aged by now, but since all the other planets were cookies (save for that bitch of a fourth planet), it is logically sound that the fifth had to be a milk planet.
All of these planets rotated around its normal life, the fourth being a bitch and the tenth pondering it’s milkiness, around its yellow star that gave off yellow rays that baked the other cookie planets into even more severely baked cookie planets. All was right in this little solar system, and A.S.S was all right with being just A.S.S.
That was, until the start of the death of the universe. Out of the infinite wisdom of the universe approximately 325,413,612,102,503 different civilizations knew that the universe was about to kick the intergalactic bucket into the intergalactic grave, and approximately 993,000,982 civilizations tried to do something about the matter. No dice. All programs that tried to breach into another dimension ended with disaster, with many perishing due to the effects that interdimensional travel can have on the physical form. Other programs like lengthening the age of the universe only served to show how much bullshit the average civilization can produce, many just becoming snake oil programs that did nothing but to funnel money into a black hole. Actually, Civilization 5234:049092:12003:02:1 did just that, they threw their own money into a black hole to see what the effect would be like. Considering their money was spent nuclear rods, all it did was allow the residents of a completely different dimension to wonder how in god’s name their black hole is spitting out rods of nuclear waste at them.
In short, people were fucked right in the down under, and many waited for the upcoming death.
It did, stars going out bit by bit and black holes losing their energy and dissipating as well, residents of this universe started flocking and migrating to different star systems in order to find the last remaining star that would help them support life.
Fortunately, A.S.S was on their side. From its humble beginnings as the supporter of a series of cookie planets -- with one bitch of a planet and one milk planet being it’s oddballs – it soon gained popularity as the happenest place in the universe, with a myriad of civilizations travelling to this yellow planet to give it a dose of its yellow rays before its yellowness was the last thing that could ever be yellow in a universe that was increasingly becoming black. Every planet soon filled up to immense lengths, as septillion upon septillion of different races across the universe gathered here in order to try to become the last remaining life form on the planet. Approximately .0000000000000000000000000000000000003% of all the life forms that remained in the universe (carbon, methane, or otherwise-based) decided to make A.S.S their home as they settle for what might come next. The other life forms within the universe either died just not knowing about the situation, or cookied themselves into a crisp as their respective star systems went and kicked the bucket.
There, on the first planet, stood a single man that knew with about as much certainty as everyone else that everything is going to come to an end. He thought about the hilarity of the whole situation, his species stood so many tests and tribulations that it got him, a single man, all the way to the end of the universe. As he passed the vehicles under the parking lot he got a glimpse of one of the vehicles, completely black, no light reflected from it. His mind drew back to the elevator as he wondered about the possibility of a vehicle being so black that it can escape the universe. He didn’t mind about it. As the elevator ascended into the lobby he wondered about what to eat today. Of course, today of all days, is the end of the universe. He might just try eating that talking cow…
| 15 years we've been drifting, preserving our final fuel supplies in the event of a final showdown. With only 10 degrees of vision in front of us aided by a star and the other 350 empty, it's a bit difficult to detect other stargazer class ships. And by empty, no radiation or background noise of any sort. You could set off a flair and it's be brighter than 99% of the known universe, except the final star Eden.
Thankfully the solar class ships were abandoned when their battle-ready capabilities proved them inefficient for this period of time... when the final star was singing the chronicles of it's fallen ancestors. We recieved intel that the Final Light Lucifer alliance had access to a drifter class ship, but with added speed comes the cost of fuel. No way they could get a ship that inefficient all the way out here.
But what is here, exactly. The final sun, a lonely beacon of hope. The last source of energy in the known universe. And surrounding it, 3 planetary bodies. 2 terra class and 1 gassious class. We were 3 cycles away according to our best estimates. Not easy running a 10km long ship with just 100 men...
**sorry, getting late. If anyone wants me to continue let me know and i'll come back tomorrow** |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | We stood there on the platform bathed in the last light of the universe's last sun. The massive superstructure that surrounded the sun was made to house the remnants of the sentient races lucky enough to find this last oasis of light, as well as suck up the last stray solar flares that are now far and in between. I am one the last humans in existence my; one of two thousand survivors I had seen the last light of the human empire fade as entropy consumed the dark worlds once full of life. I stand amongst other species, strange and foreign to someone who never left the core worlds, but to me a former pirate these creatures are old hat. They come in all forms big and small, fat and slender, most are not even bipedal, but in these final moments we all share the same light and for the first time in the universe's history there is no war or conflict. Almost funny really, the universe has to end to put a stop to conflict. I chuckle much to the disdain of an alien priest spewing some form of last right to a small crowd of insect like aliens; I turn around and walk into the labyrinth of pipes and wires to the remains of my small ship, now merged with the superstructure, and entered. My wife Ria turned, her deep red skin almost blood red in the dim light.
"How long Vallen?" She asks fear in her voice. My daughter Midna slept soundly in her bed stirring softly as Ria stroked her black hair.
I take her hand in my own and say "The countdown is to a half hour, maybe more, before the final flare and then the sun will go out" She wraps her slender arms around me and I return the embrace squeezing her tight.
Midna stirs and rises, her little head bobbing as she rubs the sleep from her eyes "Daddy what's wrong?"
"Nothing little one, Mommy and I are just talking" I say releasing the embrace and picking up my daughter "How about we all go or a walk, does that sound nice?" She nods and places her head on my shoulder as I take my wife's hand and lead them out into the hall where throngs of people rushed to the observation deck. Instead I take them into a side hall through the dark alleys until we reach an anti chamber overlooking the dying sun. The chamber was filled with six hundred Stasis pods, many already filled, only four remained open. I placed my daughter in one of the pods and tussled her hair:
"Now it's time to sleep, and when you wake up we can live in a forest on a nice planet somewhere"
"Can we really?" She asks a smile spreading across her face. I nod and inject her with a sleeping drug and she falls back into the cushioned surface as blue energy surrounds her and the pod closes. I kiss my wife as I inject her and as her pod closes I look to the massive red sun. A black mark is spreading around the luminous globe and I turn the last pod, my own. I don't know if this last ditched effort to save something of the universe will work, but I wont let my daughter die. As I inject my self the the star begins its death throws spewing massive flares as the blackness consumes the stellar flesh, I enter my pod and feel the stasis energy lock my muscles and cells into place, and as the hatch closes the last beam of light fades out, and I hear a million sentient beings scream in unison. The hatch closes bathing myself and the rest of the universe in darkness. | 15 years we've been drifting, preserving our final fuel supplies in the event of a final showdown. With only 10 degrees of vision in front of us aided by a star and the other 350 empty, it's a bit difficult to detect other stargazer class ships. And by empty, no radiation or background noise of any sort. You could set off a flair and it's be brighter than 99% of the known universe, except the final star Eden.
Thankfully the solar class ships were abandoned when their battle-ready capabilities proved them inefficient for this period of time... when the final star was singing the chronicles of it's fallen ancestors. We recieved intel that the Final Light Lucifer alliance had access to a drifter class ship, but with added speed comes the cost of fuel. No way they could get a ship that inefficient all the way out here.
But what is here, exactly. The final sun, a lonely beacon of hope. The last source of energy in the known universe. And surrounding it, 3 planetary bodies. 2 terra class and 1 gassious class. We were 3 cycles away according to our best estimates. Not easy running a 10km long ship with just 100 men...
**sorry, getting late. If anyone wants me to continue let me know and i'll come back tomorrow** |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | We did not find the forewarned mass mayhem when we reached The Star. Seeing the calm of no hope makes me understand that it was we fleeing that condemned Earth, not the dying Sun. We were a beacon of fruitless hope that turned mankind into clawing cornered savages. I'd apologize, but it doesn't matter.
Only here and now matters. Finally that trivial quote becomes inescapable. Thankfully, here and now is peace. In our acceptance of entropy there is the humanity we'd always hoped for. There is a blending of beings. Beautifully indescribable beings. Some are nothing more than a glimmer, their words conversing with your mind. Others would be considered monstrous. Yet, our gathering gives grace to all. Maybe we all are here to redeem our shameful departures from everything we've ever known.
It is only on personal levels that indiscretions abound. Ships have clustered together based on what their communities offer. Some have even taken to the two nearby planets to be together on solid ground. There are quite a few rising religions, but those I avoid. Similarly I cannot abide by those harboring their power to send one final plea to the edges of the known universe.
Instead, I melt through the masses searching for the one I left to find. I wade through the bodies of those experiencing as much as they can in their dying days. Substances are used. Accidental suicide appears abundant. Accidental because so many are pushing the boundaries that their bodies provide. Bodies. They're everywhere.
I flicker between the two major gatherings, one on terra firma, the other in a ship cluster. In these the bodies are one. Music transcending space and time pumps through the hearts of all as we blend into one mass movement. I recall the ancient raves of my past and how they pale. It is impossible not to take part. Mouths find mouths. Orifices find occupants. Everywhere we writhe.
My eyes and thoughts are the only part of me I own. They dart about in search of her hint of blue. There are many hues about, but never again has the universe produced such a sight. Nor will it. I found a group of her kind. Likewise I could see their oceans roll about on their skin, constantly churning. They told me that they didn't know
her before they took me there on the floor. It wasn't the same.
I spent the last light alone atop a mountain. As the final drops of morning died into the darkened ball of gas, I heard the howl rise from the gathering below. From my position I could hear the sorrow despite the desire for joy. We final few are not the heroes of our homes. We are not the survivors.
I abandoned you at our dying light and I am ashamed. You too were only human and yet you held onto hope for our kind, for our family. At last light it was to you I howled. You who loved the ocean, but didn't look like it.
*Error: Message not received.* | 15 years we've been drifting, preserving our final fuel supplies in the event of a final showdown. With only 10 degrees of vision in front of us aided by a star and the other 350 empty, it's a bit difficult to detect other stargazer class ships. And by empty, no radiation or background noise of any sort. You could set off a flair and it's be brighter than 99% of the known universe, except the final star Eden.
Thankfully the solar class ships were abandoned when their battle-ready capabilities proved them inefficient for this period of time... when the final star was singing the chronicles of it's fallen ancestors. We recieved intel that the Final Light Lucifer alliance had access to a drifter class ship, but with added speed comes the cost of fuel. No way they could get a ship that inefficient all the way out here.
But what is here, exactly. The final sun, a lonely beacon of hope. The last source of energy in the known universe. And surrounding it, 3 planetary bodies. 2 terra class and 1 gassious class. We were 3 cycles away according to our best estimates. Not easy running a 10km long ship with just 100 men...
**sorry, getting late. If anyone wants me to continue let me know and i'll come back tomorrow** |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | The remaining super-sentient carbon gas clouds drifted inside of their atmospheric containment nodules as they observed the quick collapse of the last surrounding layers of compressed matter. As the ending approached, they established the last set of compression beacons they would ever employ, and activated them. Already, while they passed into the void of the blackhole- transiting through the multi-frame to their newly generated universe, just exiting the throes of the big bang, the beacons were condensing the universe of their birth. Soon, it would condense so much that it would collapse in on the compression beacons themselves, which would be smaller than the atomic point on the eye of a needle before their structural integrity was depleted. Then, this universe would spawn again, exploding out from the miniscule ball of condensed matter which had once represented a vast endlessness, untrackable to the ancestors of the carbon gas clouds.
Sufficed to say, they did not *feel* anything as the last star collapsed. They simply accepted that this was the path they had chosen for their universe. It was within their capacity to generate new stars, but why save something that is dying, when they could create their own? | 15 years we've been drifting, preserving our final fuel supplies in the event of a final showdown. With only 10 degrees of vision in front of us aided by a star and the other 350 empty, it's a bit difficult to detect other stargazer class ships. And by empty, no radiation or background noise of any sort. You could set off a flair and it's be brighter than 99% of the known universe, except the final star Eden.
Thankfully the solar class ships were abandoned when their battle-ready capabilities proved them inefficient for this period of time... when the final star was singing the chronicles of it's fallen ancestors. We recieved intel that the Final Light Lucifer alliance had access to a drifter class ship, but with added speed comes the cost of fuel. No way they could get a ship that inefficient all the way out here.
But what is here, exactly. The final sun, a lonely beacon of hope. The last source of energy in the known universe. And surrounding it, 3 planetary bodies. 2 terra class and 1 gassious class. We were 3 cycles away according to our best estimates. Not easy running a 10km long ship with just 100 men...
**sorry, getting late. If anyone wants me to continue let me know and i'll come back tomorrow** |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | A reminder: posting a comment that says "This reminds of x" or "Y already wrote this" is not posting a response to the writing prompt. Such comments will be removed. | 15 years we've been drifting, preserving our final fuel supplies in the event of a final showdown. With only 10 degrees of vision in front of us aided by a star and the other 350 empty, it's a bit difficult to detect other stargazer class ships. And by empty, no radiation or background noise of any sort. You could set off a flair and it's be brighter than 99% of the known universe, except the final star Eden.
Thankfully the solar class ships were abandoned when their battle-ready capabilities proved them inefficient for this period of time... when the final star was singing the chronicles of it's fallen ancestors. We recieved intel that the Final Light Lucifer alliance had access to a drifter class ship, but with added speed comes the cost of fuel. No way they could get a ship that inefficient all the way out here.
But what is here, exactly. The final sun, a lonely beacon of hope. The last source of energy in the known universe. And surrounding it, 3 planetary bodies. 2 terra class and 1 gassious class. We were 3 cycles away according to our best estimates. Not easy running a 10km long ship with just 100 men...
**sorry, getting late. If anyone wants me to continue let me know and i'll come back tomorrow** |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Eons seemed like a short time in comparison to how long he had been waiting. His mother had told him one thing every night before he slept, and every night he had asked her the same question.
He honestly hadn't thought he would live for as long as the universe. He considered himself a normal man at first. Of course that was wrong. He grew up, as anyone would do. then he married and had children, but this is where the normal portion of his life stopped. As his children grew, he didn't age along with them. His once beautiful wife had aged to a withered old crone, but he still looked as youthful as the day they were married. Scientists had been amazed, and for awhile he was a media sensation. but of course, that had passed as no one could explain why the simple father had not aged while everyone around him did. he went through life, as one does with no prospect of aging. He was adventurous, while he enjoyed it, he was an explorer, a poet, even a conquerer as time went on. At one point a saint, and another point a devil. His fingerprints were all through the history books right up until they stopped being written.
After mankind had passed, not through some reat calamity, or disease, but simply ascended to some farther plane of being, the man had wandered. humanity had invented a great many toys that allowed the man to go where he wished. he visited vast ancient races, and bestowed gifts on relative newcomers. These too he watched pass on into the eternal night. Eventually he settled arouond this, the last star. Even the trailings of light from the other stars had faded out into nothingness. The universe outside this small bubble was nothing more than static, and space.
Desppite it all, he remembered one thing. What his mother said to him all those ages ago. before the suns cooled, before the continents drifted, and before the fall of man..
"I will love you for as long as the stars burn"
she had said this every night as she tucked him in, and then kissed him on the forehead.
he had lost her while he was still a child, before he had lost anythign else. Even now, despite losing the whole universe, her loss still weighed the heaviest on him. Knowing that she had never grown to see the great being that her son would become. It was an old wound, but it still made him pause.
The sun, a vast old giant, was just going through its death throes. he had seen the exact same thing a million times, and this was only notable because it was the last. The readings from the sun were normal for this stage in its development, and the few feeble blasted rocks that had once been planets clung to their orbits despite the suns erratic gravity well.
It was on one of these that he had decided to watch. a planet far enough away that it woudnt be immediatly destroyed, but close enough to have a breathable atmosphere.
standing there on that last sunset. he couldn't help but think of the people he'd lost, of the things he'ad experienced. Despite all of the loss, it was still a good life.
The light waxed, and then waned. it was coming. he could feel the change.
The light changed, and then was gone. He knew he only had a few more minutes on this darkened rock before the shockwaves destroyed it, but he sat in the silence and asked the same question he had asked all those times his mother tucked him in.
"but momma, what about when the stars go out"
This time though, as the air chilled around him in absolute darkness he felt a hand embrace his, and finally after all this time an answer.
"Then we shall have to make more stars my little love"
| 15 years we've been drifting, preserving our final fuel supplies in the event of a final showdown. With only 10 degrees of vision in front of us aided by a star and the other 350 empty, it's a bit difficult to detect other stargazer class ships. And by empty, no radiation or background noise of any sort. You could set off a flair and it's be brighter than 99% of the known universe, except the final star Eden.
Thankfully the solar class ships were abandoned when their battle-ready capabilities proved them inefficient for this period of time... when the final star was singing the chronicles of it's fallen ancestors. We recieved intel that the Final Light Lucifer alliance had access to a drifter class ship, but with added speed comes the cost of fuel. No way they could get a ship that inefficient all the way out here.
But what is here, exactly. The final sun, a lonely beacon of hope. The last source of energy in the known universe. And surrounding it, 3 planetary bodies. 2 terra class and 1 gassious class. We were 3 cycles away according to our best estimates. Not easy running a 10km long ship with just 100 men...
**sorry, getting late. If anyone wants me to continue let me know and i'll come back tomorrow** |
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[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | Alpha Sector Seven was just like any other star within the local galaxy Tau Three Theta. It had a yellow glow around it, feeding off yellow energy to yellow planets just like any other yellow star within the universe. It had a system of planets, 10 strong. One was a rocky world baked into a good crisp (serves seven); the second was – unfortunately – a very vibrant and lush planet that now has gotten baked into a good crisp, its lush and vibrant plant life serving only as dressing on the cookie world; the third was a world that used to have life but then one person made the foolish decision to take on the role of supreme leader and the fact that its planet now only baked into a nuclear flavoredtm crisp serves to show how that all went down; the fourth was the third planet’s sister planet, all self-absorbed with herself like any other sister planet, broken after the third’s untimely demise and now only serves to looks at the third’s cookie based world and reminisce about the good times; the fifth through seventh planets are also baked into a cookie, no shame in that however, it’s always nice to sometimes be a cookie now and again; people think that sometimes they shouldn’t permanently stay cookies, that’s what the eighth planet thought, wondering what happened to all the other planets that used to not be cookie planets; the ninth planet didn’t care about the fact that it was a cookie planet, it didn’t really care about anything, it was the coolest planet in the galaxy due to how little it cared, if the planet were a person it would have dark sunglasses, standing near the edge of the schoolyard brooding about stuff, it was a cool planet and nobody else thought any different in it; the tenth planet was actually a planet of milk.
Nobody really knew why the planet was made out of milk, or the fact that it should have been aged by now, but since all the other planets were cookies (save for that bitch of a fourth planet), it is logically sound that the fifth had to be a milk planet.
All of these planets rotated around its normal life, the fourth being a bitch and the tenth pondering it’s milkiness, around its yellow star that gave off yellow rays that baked the other cookie planets into even more severely baked cookie planets. All was right in this little solar system, and A.S.S was all right with being just A.S.S.
That was, until the start of the death of the universe. Out of the infinite wisdom of the universe approximately 325,413,612,102,503 different civilizations knew that the universe was about to kick the intergalactic bucket into the intergalactic grave, and approximately 993,000,982 civilizations tried to do something about the matter. No dice. All programs that tried to breach into another dimension ended with disaster, with many perishing due to the effects that interdimensional travel can have on the physical form. Other programs like lengthening the age of the universe only served to show how much bullshit the average civilization can produce, many just becoming snake oil programs that did nothing but to funnel money into a black hole. Actually, Civilization 5234:049092:12003:02:1 did just that, they threw their own money into a black hole to see what the effect would be like. Considering their money was spent nuclear rods, all it did was allow the residents of a completely different dimension to wonder how in god’s name their black hole is spitting out rods of nuclear waste at them.
In short, people were fucked right in the down under, and many waited for the upcoming death.
It did, stars going out bit by bit and black holes losing their energy and dissipating as well, residents of this universe started flocking and migrating to different star systems in order to find the last remaining star that would help them support life.
Fortunately, A.S.S was on their side. From its humble beginnings as the supporter of a series of cookie planets -- with one bitch of a planet and one milk planet being it’s oddballs – it soon gained popularity as the happenest place in the universe, with a myriad of civilizations travelling to this yellow planet to give it a dose of its yellow rays before its yellowness was the last thing that could ever be yellow in a universe that was increasingly becoming black. Every planet soon filled up to immense lengths, as septillion upon septillion of different races across the universe gathered here in order to try to become the last remaining life form on the planet. Approximately .0000000000000000000000000000000000003% of all the life forms that remained in the universe (carbon, methane, or otherwise-based) decided to make A.S.S their home as they settle for what might come next. The other life forms within the universe either died just not knowing about the situation, or cookied themselves into a crisp as their respective star systems went and kicked the bucket.
There, on the first planet, stood a single man that knew with about as much certainty as everyone else that everything is going to come to an end. He thought about the hilarity of the whole situation, his species stood so many tests and tribulations that it got him, a single man, all the way to the end of the universe. As he passed the vehicles under the parking lot he got a glimpse of one of the vehicles, completely black, no light reflected from it. His mind drew back to the elevator as he wondered about the possibility of a vehicle being so black that it can escape the universe. He didn’t mind about it. As the elevator ascended into the lobby he wondered about what to eat today. Of course, today of all days, is the end of the universe. He might just try eating that talking cow…
| Melancholy was the prevailing sentiment. Not sorrow or sadness. We had long disposed of those trivialities and, as such, had largely forgotten how to feel them. Melancholy had managed to stick around, however.
It was a shame it took us so long to reach the heights we did. 2 billion years seems like such a short time for us to use reality as our plaything. Such a short time for the life forms of the universe - machinic, organic, and innumerable other sentient forms - to finally get down to the busy work of love and creation.
Long ago, we had freed ourselves from the vicissitudes of the perpetual struggle for existence that characterised so much of all our histories. So much wasted life. But now, having basked in what the shallow philosophies of yestereons would have perhaps named utopia, we faced the end of it all. The end of all that we had created and all that we still hoped to create. Our dreams could not surpass the wilting of the stars.
Experiencing the beautiful and novel is always inevitably traumatic because it always ends. This was the wisdom that even the conglomeration of innumerable sentiences descended from a trillion civilisations found easy to forget once they had found perfection.
No. Not perfection. There had for a long time been no end goal. To seek perfection would be to seek cessation, a *telos*, and to seek cessation would be to seek the date of one's own death. But, alas, the motions set on their way in the first seconds of the universe had decided our end date for us. How cruel joy is to be so callous as to end.
So we all watched in our own ways - as our biologies, or lack thereof, allowed. Few positioned themselves in the immediate vicinity of the last star. That star which had a multitude of names in many languages, all of them melancholic. Most realised that for all of us to get within even a lightyear (another arbitrary measurement based on the orbit of some dead planet) of the last star would leave little room for the rest to mourn in their own ways. Such was the disposition of sentiences who had known nothing but empathy and compassion for their long existences. Even as the last hope for the future faded to darkness we still clung to the love that had given us meaning through the millennia.
And we all watched.
Of course, like so many banal realities, there was no spectacle. No bright lights to herald the coming of the end of the time of life. Just the completion of a slow process whereby the star ceased to output energy and went cold, as a billion stars had hitherto done. The exact moment when the star would cease to produce energy had long been calculated. Extremely long in fact. Back in the youth of our grandeur when even the proof of the end did not seem to make it any more inevitable.
Few would seek to go back to those days because what we had produced in the interim was... beyond words. Even the most modest observer could not help but see that we had created space for every desire and form, every movement of love and kindness imaginable, every expression of beauty and reciprocal kinship.
No, I misspoke again. Not *every* such things. Climbing to such heights but gave us a better view of what we could foster. With every elevation of grandeur the horizon got further and further away. *That* was the beauty of our cooperation. And while the universe seemed spatially and temporally boundless it lasted.
No way to perpetuate life for eternity had been found. All energy would eventually be expended, dissipated and blend with the flat hum of the scream of the birth of the universe. The first word spoken by the cosmos would also be its last. Of course, stars and other energetic forms had been dying for millennia now. Nature is so often dull and irksome in its grand cataclysms. The slow depletion of harnessable energy in the universe was merely another obstacle of life that we overcame with ease, at least for some time. Cold stars and dead planets were turned into useable energy. They would continue to provide such support even for millennia after the last star had itself gone cold. This was different though. The death of the universe had been slow and creeping, but the quiet death of the final star had provided us with a milestone to assure us that the age of life was ending.
An old tale of a civilisation whose descendants had long become part of the social milieu spoke of a being who wished to, despite not - as some do - biologically possessing the means to do so, fly from the surface of their planet to the star around which it orbited. The being devised implements that extended its own appendages to mimic the flying mechanisms of many other beings on that planet. It broke the nuisance of gravity and ascended towards its goal only to find that once it got close the star melted its means of ascension and caused the being to tumble back to the ground. It seems we find ourselves in a similar situation. However, our desires did not melt. Instead, we overcame the cruelties that tied our ancestors to pitiful existences on orbiting rocks and spread forth through the heavens surpassing even the wildest dreams of the most inventive superstitions of bygone eras. But instead of melting we freeze. Our demise is not a quick fall triggered by heat and the greedy attraction of a rock. Our demise is the same as that of the last star: long and cold.
Thus, melancholy prevails. We still love and we still create but in nothing like the quantities of our grand era and, all the time, with the knowledge that we and our fruits will wither and die as the stars have done.
In time, the overriding expression of the universe will be the dissipated murmur of its birth. Our existences will have been but the opening splutter of the cosmos' perpetual, monotonous wail. In that short moment we have found meaning. But this is a universe that cares nothing for such trivialities. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | We did not find the forewarned mass mayhem when we reached The Star. Seeing the calm of no hope makes me understand that it was we fleeing that condemned Earth, not the dying Sun. We were a beacon of fruitless hope that turned mankind into clawing cornered savages. I'd apologize, but it doesn't matter.
Only here and now matters. Finally that trivial quote becomes inescapable. Thankfully, here and now is peace. In our acceptance of entropy there is the humanity we'd always hoped for. There is a blending of beings. Beautifully indescribable beings. Some are nothing more than a glimmer, their words conversing with your mind. Others would be considered monstrous. Yet, our gathering gives grace to all. Maybe we all are here to redeem our shameful departures from everything we've ever known.
It is only on personal levels that indiscretions abound. Ships have clustered together based on what their communities offer. Some have even taken to the two nearby planets to be together on solid ground. There are quite a few rising religions, but those I avoid. Similarly I cannot abide by those harboring their power to send one final plea to the edges of the known universe.
Instead, I melt through the masses searching for the one I left to find. I wade through the bodies of those experiencing as much as they can in their dying days. Substances are used. Accidental suicide appears abundant. Accidental because so many are pushing the boundaries that their bodies provide. Bodies. They're everywhere.
I flicker between the two major gatherings, one on terra firma, the other in a ship cluster. In these the bodies are one. Music transcending space and time pumps through the hearts of all as we blend into one mass movement. I recall the ancient raves of my past and how they pale. It is impossible not to take part. Mouths find mouths. Orifices find occupants. Everywhere we writhe.
My eyes and thoughts are the only part of me I own. They dart about in search of her hint of blue. There are many hues about, but never again has the universe produced such a sight. Nor will it. I found a group of her kind. Likewise I could see their oceans roll about on their skin, constantly churning. They told me that they didn't know
her before they took me there on the floor. It wasn't the same.
I spent the last light alone atop a mountain. As the final drops of morning died into the darkened ball of gas, I heard the howl rise from the gathering below. From my position I could hear the sorrow despite the desire for joy. We final few are not the heroes of our homes. We are not the survivors.
I abandoned you at our dying light and I am ashamed. You too were only human and yet you held onto hope for our kind, for our family. At last light it was to you I howled. You who loved the ocean, but didn't look like it.
*Error: Message not received.* | Melancholy was the prevailing sentiment. Not sorrow or sadness. We had long disposed of those trivialities and, as such, had largely forgotten how to feel them. Melancholy had managed to stick around, however.
It was a shame it took us so long to reach the heights we did. 2 billion years seems like such a short time for us to use reality as our plaything. Such a short time for the life forms of the universe - machinic, organic, and innumerable other sentient forms - to finally get down to the busy work of love and creation.
Long ago, we had freed ourselves from the vicissitudes of the perpetual struggle for existence that characterised so much of all our histories. So much wasted life. But now, having basked in what the shallow philosophies of yestereons would have perhaps named utopia, we faced the end of it all. The end of all that we had created and all that we still hoped to create. Our dreams could not surpass the wilting of the stars.
Experiencing the beautiful and novel is always inevitably traumatic because it always ends. This was the wisdom that even the conglomeration of innumerable sentiences descended from a trillion civilisations found easy to forget once they had found perfection.
No. Not perfection. There had for a long time been no end goal. To seek perfection would be to seek cessation, a *telos*, and to seek cessation would be to seek the date of one's own death. But, alas, the motions set on their way in the first seconds of the universe had decided our end date for us. How cruel joy is to be so callous as to end.
So we all watched in our own ways - as our biologies, or lack thereof, allowed. Few positioned themselves in the immediate vicinity of the last star. That star which had a multitude of names in many languages, all of them melancholic. Most realised that for all of us to get within even a lightyear (another arbitrary measurement based on the orbit of some dead planet) of the last star would leave little room for the rest to mourn in their own ways. Such was the disposition of sentiences who had known nothing but empathy and compassion for their long existences. Even as the last hope for the future faded to darkness we still clung to the love that had given us meaning through the millennia.
And we all watched.
Of course, like so many banal realities, there was no spectacle. No bright lights to herald the coming of the end of the time of life. Just the completion of a slow process whereby the star ceased to output energy and went cold, as a billion stars had hitherto done. The exact moment when the star would cease to produce energy had long been calculated. Extremely long in fact. Back in the youth of our grandeur when even the proof of the end did not seem to make it any more inevitable.
Few would seek to go back to those days because what we had produced in the interim was... beyond words. Even the most modest observer could not help but see that we had created space for every desire and form, every movement of love and kindness imaginable, every expression of beauty and reciprocal kinship.
No, I misspoke again. Not *every* such things. Climbing to such heights but gave us a better view of what we could foster. With every elevation of grandeur the horizon got further and further away. *That* was the beauty of our cooperation. And while the universe seemed spatially and temporally boundless it lasted.
No way to perpetuate life for eternity had been found. All energy would eventually be expended, dissipated and blend with the flat hum of the scream of the birth of the universe. The first word spoken by the cosmos would also be its last. Of course, stars and other energetic forms had been dying for millennia now. Nature is so often dull and irksome in its grand cataclysms. The slow depletion of harnessable energy in the universe was merely another obstacle of life that we overcame with ease, at least for some time. Cold stars and dead planets were turned into useable energy. They would continue to provide such support even for millennia after the last star had itself gone cold. This was different though. The death of the universe had been slow and creeping, but the quiet death of the final star had provided us with a milestone to assure us that the age of life was ending.
An old tale of a civilisation whose descendants had long become part of the social milieu spoke of a being who wished to, despite not - as some do - biologically possessing the means to do so, fly from the surface of their planet to the star around which it orbited. The being devised implements that extended its own appendages to mimic the flying mechanisms of many other beings on that planet. It broke the nuisance of gravity and ascended towards its goal only to find that once it got close the star melted its means of ascension and caused the being to tumble back to the ground. It seems we find ourselves in a similar situation. However, our desires did not melt. Instead, we overcame the cruelties that tied our ancestors to pitiful existences on orbiting rocks and spread forth through the heavens surpassing even the wildest dreams of the most inventive superstitions of bygone eras. But instead of melting we freeze. Our demise is not a quick fall triggered by heat and the greedy attraction of a rock. Our demise is the same as that of the last star: long and cold.
Thus, melancholy prevails. We still love and we still create but in nothing like the quantities of our grand era and, all the time, with the knowledge that we and our fruits will wither and die as the stars have done.
In time, the overriding expression of the universe will be the dissipated murmur of its birth. Our existences will have been but the opening splutter of the cosmos' perpetual, monotonous wail. In that short moment we have found meaning. But this is a universe that cares nothing for such trivialities. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | We stood there on the platform bathed in the last light of the universe's last sun. The massive superstructure that surrounded the sun was made to house the remnants of the sentient races lucky enough to find this last oasis of light, as well as suck up the last stray solar flares that are now far and in between. I am one the last humans in existence my; one of two thousand survivors I had seen the last light of the human empire fade as entropy consumed the dark worlds once full of life. I stand amongst other species, strange and foreign to someone who never left the core worlds, but to me a former pirate these creatures are old hat. They come in all forms big and small, fat and slender, most are not even bipedal, but in these final moments we all share the same light and for the first time in the universe's history there is no war or conflict. Almost funny really, the universe has to end to put a stop to conflict. I chuckle much to the disdain of an alien priest spewing some form of last right to a small crowd of insect like aliens; I turn around and walk into the labyrinth of pipes and wires to the remains of my small ship, now merged with the superstructure, and entered. My wife Ria turned, her deep red skin almost blood red in the dim light.
"How long Vallen?" She asks fear in her voice. My daughter Midna slept soundly in her bed stirring softly as Ria stroked her black hair.
I take her hand in my own and say "The countdown is to a half hour, maybe more, before the final flare and then the sun will go out" She wraps her slender arms around me and I return the embrace squeezing her tight.
Midna stirs and rises, her little head bobbing as she rubs the sleep from her eyes "Daddy what's wrong?"
"Nothing little one, Mommy and I are just talking" I say releasing the embrace and picking up my daughter "How about we all go or a walk, does that sound nice?" She nods and places her head on my shoulder as I take my wife's hand and lead them out into the hall where throngs of people rushed to the observation deck. Instead I take them into a side hall through the dark alleys until we reach an anti chamber overlooking the dying sun. The chamber was filled with six hundred Stasis pods, many already filled, only four remained open. I placed my daughter in one of the pods and tussled her hair:
"Now it's time to sleep, and when you wake up we can live in a forest on a nice planet somewhere"
"Can we really?" She asks a smile spreading across her face. I nod and inject her with a sleeping drug and she falls back into the cushioned surface as blue energy surrounds her and the pod closes. I kiss my wife as I inject her and as her pod closes I look to the massive red sun. A black mark is spreading around the luminous globe and I turn the last pod, my own. I don't know if this last ditched effort to save something of the universe will work, but I wont let my daughter die. As I inject my self the the star begins its death throws spewing massive flares as the blackness consumes the stellar flesh, I enter my pod and feel the stasis energy lock my muscles and cells into place, and as the hatch closes the last beam of light fades out, and I hear a million sentient beings scream in unison. The hatch closes bathing myself and the rest of the universe in darkness. | It's funny, isn't it? They lived in an age where they revelled in knowledge, in discovery, in science. The wheel, the steam engine, the almighty transistor - once they started discovering, they never seemed to stop. Not even the vast, previously unfathomable distances between the stars in our galaxy could stand in their way once they figured out how to travel close to the speed of light. The likes of Newton, Einstein and Hawking lived as deities, basking in all the glory of having propelled human knowledge that much further.
Idiots.
Once reality started to sink in (Only a couple aeons too late but hey, better than never, right?) they started to worry. Desperately, they clung to theories about wormholes, higher dimensions and multiverses like pieces of driftwood out at sea. "Surely, there must be a way - we've come this far, we're the smartest things out there!" they thought - how cute.
It's almost comic, how religion has a habit of resurfacing at the most convenient of times. Earthquakes, asteroid strikes, magnetic storms; all religion needed was an excuse. It was no different this time, when they flocked to the 'type Ib blue supergiant' like moths to a flame. They started with small offerings, desperate tokens of their faith, which eventually progressed on to mass human sacrifices. I guess it sort of worked in their favour, they saved precious oxygen that way. "Science couldn't save us, maybe God can!"
Give me a break. I have better things to do. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | We did not find the forewarned mass mayhem when we reached The Star. Seeing the calm of no hope makes me understand that it was we fleeing that condemned Earth, not the dying Sun. We were a beacon of fruitless hope that turned mankind into clawing cornered savages. I'd apologize, but it doesn't matter.
Only here and now matters. Finally that trivial quote becomes inescapable. Thankfully, here and now is peace. In our acceptance of entropy there is the humanity we'd always hoped for. There is a blending of beings. Beautifully indescribable beings. Some are nothing more than a glimmer, their words conversing with your mind. Others would be considered monstrous. Yet, our gathering gives grace to all. Maybe we all are here to redeem our shameful departures from everything we've ever known.
It is only on personal levels that indiscretions abound. Ships have clustered together based on what their communities offer. Some have even taken to the two nearby planets to be together on solid ground. There are quite a few rising religions, but those I avoid. Similarly I cannot abide by those harboring their power to send one final plea to the edges of the known universe.
Instead, I melt through the masses searching for the one I left to find. I wade through the bodies of those experiencing as much as they can in their dying days. Substances are used. Accidental suicide appears abundant. Accidental because so many are pushing the boundaries that their bodies provide. Bodies. They're everywhere.
I flicker between the two major gatherings, one on terra firma, the other in a ship cluster. In these the bodies are one. Music transcending space and time pumps through the hearts of all as we blend into one mass movement. I recall the ancient raves of my past and how they pale. It is impossible not to take part. Mouths find mouths. Orifices find occupants. Everywhere we writhe.
My eyes and thoughts are the only part of me I own. They dart about in search of her hint of blue. There are many hues about, but never again has the universe produced such a sight. Nor will it. I found a group of her kind. Likewise I could see their oceans roll about on their skin, constantly churning. They told me that they didn't know
her before they took me there on the floor. It wasn't the same.
I spent the last light alone atop a mountain. As the final drops of morning died into the darkened ball of gas, I heard the howl rise from the gathering below. From my position I could hear the sorrow despite the desire for joy. We final few are not the heroes of our homes. We are not the survivors.
I abandoned you at our dying light and I am ashamed. You too were only human and yet you held onto hope for our kind, for our family. At last light it was to you I howled. You who loved the ocean, but didn't look like it.
*Error: Message not received.* | It's funny, isn't it? They lived in an age where they revelled in knowledge, in discovery, in science. The wheel, the steam engine, the almighty transistor - once they started discovering, they never seemed to stop. Not even the vast, previously unfathomable distances between the stars in our galaxy could stand in their way once they figured out how to travel close to the speed of light. The likes of Newton, Einstein and Hawking lived as deities, basking in all the glory of having propelled human knowledge that much further.
Idiots.
Once reality started to sink in (Only a couple aeons too late but hey, better than never, right?) they started to worry. Desperately, they clung to theories about wormholes, higher dimensions and multiverses like pieces of driftwood out at sea. "Surely, there must be a way - we've come this far, we're the smartest things out there!" they thought - how cute.
It's almost comic, how religion has a habit of resurfacing at the most convenient of times. Earthquakes, asteroid strikes, magnetic storms; all religion needed was an excuse. It was no different this time, when they flocked to the 'type Ib blue supergiant' like moths to a flame. They started with small offerings, desperate tokens of their faith, which eventually progressed on to mass human sacrifices. I guess it sort of worked in their favour, they saved precious oxygen that way. "Science couldn't save us, maybe God can!"
Give me a break. I have better things to do. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | The remaining super-sentient carbon gas clouds drifted inside of their atmospheric containment nodules as they observed the quick collapse of the last surrounding layers of compressed matter. As the ending approached, they established the last set of compression beacons they would ever employ, and activated them. Already, while they passed into the void of the blackhole- transiting through the multi-frame to their newly generated universe, just exiting the throes of the big bang, the beacons were condensing the universe of their birth. Soon, it would condense so much that it would collapse in on the compression beacons themselves, which would be smaller than the atomic point on the eye of a needle before their structural integrity was depleted. Then, this universe would spawn again, exploding out from the miniscule ball of condensed matter which had once represented a vast endlessness, untrackable to the ancestors of the carbon gas clouds.
Sufficed to say, they did not *feel* anything as the last star collapsed. They simply accepted that this was the path they had chosen for their universe. It was within their capacity to generate new stars, but why save something that is dying, when they could create their own? | It's funny, isn't it? They lived in an age where they revelled in knowledge, in discovery, in science. The wheel, the steam engine, the almighty transistor - once they started discovering, they never seemed to stop. Not even the vast, previously unfathomable distances between the stars in our galaxy could stand in their way once they figured out how to travel close to the speed of light. The likes of Newton, Einstein and Hawking lived as deities, basking in all the glory of having propelled human knowledge that much further.
Idiots.
Once reality started to sink in (Only a couple aeons too late but hey, better than never, right?) they started to worry. Desperately, they clung to theories about wormholes, higher dimensions and multiverses like pieces of driftwood out at sea. "Surely, there must be a way - we've come this far, we're the smartest things out there!" they thought - how cute.
It's almost comic, how religion has a habit of resurfacing at the most convenient of times. Earthquakes, asteroid strikes, magnetic storms; all religion needed was an excuse. It was no different this time, when they flocked to the 'type Ib blue supergiant' like moths to a flame. They started with small offerings, desperate tokens of their faith, which eventually progressed on to mass human sacrifices. I guess it sort of worked in their favour, they saved precious oxygen that way. "Science couldn't save us, maybe God can!"
Give me a break. I have better things to do. |
|
[WP] The Heat Death of the Universe. At the end of time the Stars are burning out as they use up the last of their fuel. There is only one Star left in the known Universe and all remaining life has gathered around it. | A reminder: posting a comment that says "This reminds of x" or "Y already wrote this" is not posting a response to the writing prompt. Such comments will be removed. | It's funny, isn't it? They lived in an age where they revelled in knowledge, in discovery, in science. The wheel, the steam engine, the almighty transistor - once they started discovering, they never seemed to stop. Not even the vast, previously unfathomable distances between the stars in our galaxy could stand in their way once they figured out how to travel close to the speed of light. The likes of Newton, Einstein and Hawking lived as deities, basking in all the glory of having propelled human knowledge that much further.
Idiots.
Once reality started to sink in (Only a couple aeons too late but hey, better than never, right?) they started to worry. Desperately, they clung to theories about wormholes, higher dimensions and multiverses like pieces of driftwood out at sea. "Surely, there must be a way - we've come this far, we're the smartest things out there!" they thought - how cute.
It's almost comic, how religion has a habit of resurfacing at the most convenient of times. Earthquakes, asteroid strikes, magnetic storms; all religion needed was an excuse. It was no different this time, when they flocked to the 'type Ib blue supergiant' like moths to a flame. They started with small offerings, desperate tokens of their faith, which eventually progressed on to mass human sacrifices. I guess it sort of worked in their favour, they saved precious oxygen that way. "Science couldn't save us, maybe God can!"
Give me a break. I have better things to do. |
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