post_text
stringlengths 0
10k
| post_title
stringlengths 8
313
| chosen
stringlengths 1
39.5k
| rejected
stringlengths 1
13.8k
|
|---|---|---|---|
[WP] For every 10 times you save someone's life, you get 1 opportunity to escape death. Your "lives" is shown as a glowing number on your arm. Waking up with a horrible hungover after a wild night, you see in the corner of your eye on your wrist the number 700.000.000
|
I guess when all is said and done, you truly have never lived until you have one of those: “What the fuck happened last night?” moments.
I never did figure out exactly what I did, but I haven’t let that bother me. Or at least I’ve been trying. If the System is good for one thing, there sure are a lot less assholes around than there used to be. Sure, you do get that one chucklehead every once in a while who tries to rub your face in his respawn count, but small price to pay for an uptick in random acts of kindness. That being said, I’ve always thought that the beauty of existence was that it doesn’t last, and as it turns out, I’m the guy who’s gonna end up outliving everyone else on Earth. Provided of course I don’t get really depressed and pull a Groundhog Day style suicide spree.
I try to think of all the movies I’ll get to see now, all the games, new ideas, old ones, see the ebb and flow of intellectual properties and beloved mascots endure or fade away. I’ll get to travel, meet new friends through the centuries I have, tell my family about their ancestors as I knew them, and hope to God I don’t loose the last of my lives floating out in space, drowning four hours on end.
Not looking forward to hearing people complain about world issues for centuries on end though, I had enough of that after my fifth year of college.
Since I am not a reckless man, I have all the time in the world now and then some due to one drunken night, if there’s anything to be learnt from my experience, I guess it’s this.
If you wanna mess with Jack Daniels, you’d better be prepared for anything.
|
Ella's head vibrated as her alarms buzzing noise whizzed around the room and hit perfectly on her ear drums. She reached an angry hand out from under the covers to punch the top as she slowly rose up in her bed.
"Oh man, what day is it?" She thought to herself as she rubbed both of her eyes trying to will her face to wake up. Her room was filled with warm, yellow sunlight as she causally stretched out her legs and arms. She pushed her wild red hair away from her face as she leaned into the stretch, allowing her eyes to casually drift around her bedroom until she saw her arm!
Ella had never been the type of girl to "Point Parade." She was disgusted by the thought of racking up points by saving people and then putting it on display for the world via social media. Sure, there may have been money in it if you got a contract with a corporation but that just wasn't her style. She wasnt a "parader" on social media. She never even really cared about the points system. Ella wanted to live a quiet life. She had dreams of being a musician and making her own music. She loved playing at any venue that would have her. It was her joy and passion!
The knocks at the door sent shock waves through her body. She shot her eyes to the door, then to her arm and to the door once again. Throwing the covers off, she bolted into her closet to grab more decent clothing than what she had on.
"Oh God, oh God that can't be him!" Never wanting to have the interaction she was about to have.
"What did I do?" Ella tried to remember what had happened last night as she scrambled to get dressed but she was drawing on a blank and the hangover headache wasn't helping. She paced her self to the door, pushed her hair back, took in a deep breath, tried to smile but sheer fear had control of her body.
As the door opened, a very large man wearing a dark blue pinned striped suit stood before Ella. His slicked back brown hair and thin mustache gave way to his air of utter superiority. He stepped into her house without a care in the world
"Ms. Carpenter" he looked at her with eyes of dissaproval.
"I know you know who I am but for decorums sake I will introduce myself. You can call me Mr. Death."
Ella watched in horror as he played with a toothpick nestled in his mouth. She carefully shut the door and shifted her weight uncomfortably as she turned back to him.
"Do you know why I am here?" He asked making his way to a recliner chair in her living room.
"Uh...well...it probably has something to do with this?" She raised her arm up displaying the number seven hundred million on it.
"Hmm...yes...you see that number was much smaller nearly one day ago" his eyes piercing hers with a hint of anger.
"I don't really know what happened. I can't remember last night exactly " Ella moved across the room as if she was trying to find a safe space to stand. She watched as a grin fell across his face.
"Well, my dear, I can show you what happened. It seems some very interesting videos have popped up this morning. Why don't you make yourself comfy and we can watch them...together" his body shifted as he pulled the remote from off her coffee table and motioned her to sit.
Ella knew the night was going to be great as she made her way to greet her friends who were waiting at the bar. She was not usually a drinker and enjoyed playing in bars more than partying in them. Nevertheless she was out because her friends birthday was that weekend and she was requested to join. The bar was packed, more so than Ella liked. After two shots of vodka, a margarita and a beer, she started feeling more light and cheery. She knew she couldn't drink anymore if she even wanted to function tomorrow morning.
Ella crossed her arms and sat on the other side of the room from her current visitor.
"My, my, why so distant? It's not like I bite" Mr. Death chuckled.
"I'm sorry but you don't have the best reputation" Ella's mouth spoke faster than her words. She tried to not let the sheer terror escape her face as she looked back at him. Laughing heartily he turned the TV on and pointed. Every news channel had her and a picture of a little boy. Ella sat forward towards her TV as she watch with eager curiosity and shock seeing her own face on TV. Video footage of her running through a crowd to save a little boy who collapsed on the road. Ella watched as she saw herself providing CPR to a young child. Some of the onlookers were filming while his parents were crying. She scrambled to try to remember this but had no memory of doing it. She peered over at Mr. Death, "Is this why you're here visiting me?"
"Preciously!"
"I don't understand? I saved a boy, I didn't cheat the system or anything? it was only one life? I can't even remember doing this" she could hear her own panic in her words.
"Oh but you have cheated me, my dear, and I am here because I need this fixed!" He muted the TV and then laid the remote down.
"What! How the hell did I cheat you? I saved a boy's life! One. Single. Boy."
Ella watched as he sat forward, tightening his mouth in an effort to control himself, "you cheated me! You have immortality now! You saved a child who will go on to be the number one doctor in the world! By saving him, you have saved millions of lives from what is rightfully mine! And now...I can't have you either! So, what am I to do, hmm?" Standing up in a fit of rage, he pulled out a paper and threw it at Ella.
"Sign this or else I will have all your families points deleted."
It was a standard death contract. Any person could get one made or, as was currently happening, be forced to sign one. It allows you to have up to a certain number of points and then, at a certain date and time, they are removed and your life is terminated. Many corporations used them in return for high paying salarys and perks. Some married couples make them together as an act of true binding love. If you found yourself without a job, medical coverage or an education, these contracts were used to give you a "better life" although it would be shorter, much shorter. This was what our new societies normal was. The ability to rack up points or to sell out for the ability to have basic human necessities became the freedom we lived by.
"You know I have the power to take your families points. Do the right thing and give me your life in return for the future lives I have lost because of your...'heroism'." Mr. Death walked over to the couch Ella was seated on, slid his hand into his suit and pulled out a contract binding pen. Ella stared at the long feather pen and knew what she had to do.
|
|
[WP] You have undeniably been a good person your whole life, however, due to your abject loathing of God himself, you are condemned to Hell.
|
Fuck him.
You think an all powerful deity would be a little more understanding, especially since I spent most of my life working for free in Palestine, as a doctor. Yeah, I called a couple people assholes now and then, but how does that land you in hell?
Well, long story short, I woke up Infront of the big man himself. He says he'd allow me in if only I praise him. And naturally, like any self respecting human being, I stood by my beliefs.
God was not pleased. Last thing I remember is a flash of light.
And then I wake up on a bed of bones. Like, literally made of bones.
"You too, huh?"
I jump as I hear that voice behind me. I turn around. Behind me is an impossibilly tall man, could not be possibly human. He had long, black hair, that reached down his shoulders, a thick beard and brown eyes.
"What do you mean you too?"
"You're not the only one, y'know. Met a guy named Jill the other day. Great guy. Used to distribute free food for Indian slums. He makes a wicked burger, by the way. Anywho, he was an atheist. Big man upstairs didn't like that very much, sent him down."
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Could he know..? No, not possible. Just a coincidence. He's just assuming stuff.
"Then there's this woman named Samantha. Poor kid, pockets emptier then the goddamn dead sea. She went into prostitution. Died of an STD after a few weeks. But god wasn't very understand of her either."
I felt anger rise in me with every word. With every single letter he spoke I was reminded of why I hated that prick. I must've been visibly been frowning, because he smiled.
"We could use more medical staff, Dr. Killingser. Mortals and demons need some patching up as well. We know how you feel about him, and we feel the same way. Needless to say, we're planning on changing things. Maybe not now, maybe not in a century, but it will come. We have all the time in the world, y'know. You in?"
I felt a smile stretch across my face. It honestly sounded impossible, hell, beyond impossible. But worth a shot, wasn't it? I had nothing else to loose. I'm already in hell anyways, so what else would he do?
"I'm in."
The man smiled and outstretched his hand for me to shake.
"Lucifer Morningstar, pleasure to make your acquaintance."
|
As Josh’s final days drew to their inevitable conclusion, he had uttered no prayer, despite the suggestion of Father McNeal, the family priest. Cancer had taken Josh’s athletic physique, his thick blonde hair, but it had done little to reverse his fervent atheism.
Ten seconds after his final breath, he awoke in the hospice room; neither in a dream, nor awake. Looking round, he saw the tearful bedside vigil. His parents, girlfriend and grandmother.
“Hey there, kid”. He looked round and saw his grandfather, Raymond. Josh was confused. He had not seen Raymond since the summer of ‘07, when his grandad went fishing and had never came back.
Then came the rumours about Raymond. And then the shame. Josh stared in disbelief. “I know what you’re thinking, kid” said Raymond, “but I am paying for those things. You’ll see.”
|
|
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :)
|
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
|
Tom sighed. His knees cracked as he stood up, his back ached. Pulling his clipboard of his belt he turned toward, The Invader... or was it The Infester… maybe the Eviscerator?
“Now why, Mr. Invader, do you need a Hole of Pain and Agony?”
“Um, it’s Hole of Pains and Agonies,” the mousy voice projected from within a large Viking helmet. It was painted black with what looked like house paint. The cheap stuff you’d get at Villains Depot.
Tom looked down at the makeshift hole again, then the man. Blading, hanging onto his last few scraps of hair ala George Costanza. He almost disappeared underneath the large shoulder pads adorned with spikes, hockey mitts as gloves, and knee-high grey boots.
“Mmm, so why the *Hole of Pains and Agonies*?” Tom asked again as he corrected Line 3 of his form.
The Invader looked down at the hole, gave a half-smile.
“Well, it really boosts productivity around here. I mean, ya threaten to throw someone into a hole they get scootin’.” The Invader seemed happy about that, perking up little.
Tom pulled out his phone, took a few pictures of the hole, filled out a couple more lines on his form, and glanced around the “lair”. A handful of workers (mostly migrant workers) pulled levers, moved lumbar, and cleaned dials. Tom had a feeling the levers didn’t open anything, and the dials adjusted nothing. Trust fund money perhaps? A grown man child playing supervillain.
“This hole is just wildly out of regulation. I mean it’s barely five feet deep! The spikes are too short to kill anyone on impact and there’s no cover. An accident waiting to happen. Have you ever dropped anyone down here?” Tom knew the answer.
Shrugging, The Invader looked over into the hole with Tom and sheepishly answered, “I mean not exactly. Like I said, it really motivates these fellas to get movin’.”
“Listen, get your act together. If I did a full inspection around this place, I’d have you closed in the hour. And, to be frank, for a guy with a level F power like “Blending In”, you don’t have the clout to get out of all the legal trouble you’d have.”
In the background, Tom could hear The Invader make excuses and promises about the conditions of the lair, but he was already tuned out. Tom had heard it before; chances are this guy was more likely to fall down the damn hole than survive his next inspection.
Half walking away, Tom ripped off the white copy of his report and handed it to the little man. Opening the door, he halfheartedly said, “Next inspection is on the 15th, get your shit together.”
He walked from the suburban-looking home, minus the “Lair of the Enforcer” sign on the front. Ah, Enforcer… That was it. His beat-up lime green Impala sat on the corner. Leaning against it, he lit some cheap gas station cigarette and caught a glance of himself in the rearview mirror.
Tom Taddle, once the great Destroyer of Lives, Eater of Men, the Skull Bringer, was now a fucking OSHA auditor. He grimaced at the thought, threw the butt down, and slunk into the car. It was about time for a drink.
|
"And just what is that supposed to be?" Marve stared at the quarterstaff which had a sword tangled onto one end with a bit of frayed rope, and a war-hammer head pounded onto the other.
"I call her Mince-Maker!" supernumerative second class of the twelfth legion, Creech, smiled proudly, before deflating a bit on re-examination of his macabre science fair project, "or maybe Fist-Cutter, not sure yet."
It's a fist cutter all right, Marve thought to himself as he considered how to approach the subject.
"Have you ever seen when a wee lad goes to chop wood for the first time?" Marve asked Creech, raising an eyebrow pointedly. Getting no response, he continued, "when they swing the axe for the first time, and, not expecting the weight of the thing, they lose control, and the axe swings round the front and back at them?"
Creech's slack jaw didn't understand the question, neither did Creech, which was why he was supernumerative second class instead of a sergeant.
"How do you think," Marve gestured toward the world's deadliest coat rack, "such an eventuality would play out in the cramped ranks of the legion with, erm, Mince-Maker here?"
"That would never happen!" supernumerative Creech straightened to his full unintimidating height of five-feet-four-inches and called in a special favor from Hercul, the god of strength, to flex his sword, or mincing, arm.
"Look," Marve decided to take a different tack, "you know why we have uniforms, it's not just about striking terror into the hearts of those evil peasants trying to impose their tyranny of democracy on the world and other such nasty things, it also so great warrior heroes, like yourself, don't demoralize the other troops.
"How do you think some poor green lad, his first day on the field of glory, would feel when you have the mighty Mince-Maker," Marve waved again toward the kingdom's most ill-conceived hedge-trimmer, "and all he's got is the standard issue short-blade model three?"
Creech nodded a bit, eyes boggled and mouth twisted painfully, contemplation unsure of what to do in the hither-to unexplored realm of his face and making a mess of the expression.
"Why don't we just save Mince-Maker over here in the chest of mythical artifacts, and you can come pick it up again once you get past the supernumeratives and into the numeratives? That way you won't accidentally disembow-- er-- disgrace the other rank and files with such a legendary weapon."
Marve opened the 'chest of mythical artifacts.' There was Death-Lash, a cooking cleaver attached to a long chain such that it became the most preposterous fishing-line known to man, Foe-Feller, the 17-headed axe had come with a whirling dervish of a demonstration whose scars could still be seen on Marve's desk-chair where he had barely ducked out of the way of an untimely beheading, and, his personal favorite, Dragon's Maw, a gigantic crossbow which some ingenious supernumerative had rigged up to fire bear-traps (said supernumerative had been immediately promoted to the office of tactical weaponry, with a note to skip the whole hazing bit because something was obviously a bit off and he might well over-react).
He gently took Mince-Maker from Creech and set it beside the others, then turned to hand him a model three short blade. Creech swooshed it through the air a few times, killing an imposing lantern, which had looked like it was up to no good, before he nodded and walked out.
Marve called for the next petitioner.
A supernumerative, who had somehow engulfed his entire helm in flame using an innovative and decidedly explosive series of tubes and oil-drums, crashed into the doorway as he squinted blindly out of the inferno and attempted to enter the office chamber.
Marve [sighed](https://old.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/).
|
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :)
|
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
|
I didn't want to be the bad person's, bad person, but what can you do? Most people don't like government work, and those that do are often unprepared for your average mad scientists, eccentric pet enthusiast, corrupted shaman, or C'thulian cleric. I don't even ask the new people for their names anymore; once you're in sector 13 of OSHA's of NTSH (Nothing To See Here) Unit, it's a one in ten chance. At best. That's why I work alone.
It's easier that way. I got tired of filling out accidental death forms, injury liability waivers, ancient blood scripts from the Vatican. They are just TOO eager starting out, the newbies, they pile right through those ominous doors with their little clipboard in hand, and BOOM, dead. Or. Well. Semi alive ectoplasm? Anthropomorphized sexual offender? It's honestly hard to keep up. The most common deaths are: Magma based incineration. Weaponized tesla coils. And, the big one, slipping on "red shirt" blood. That's why I wear the helmet, the googles, the slip-proof steel-toed loafers, the holy water, and my mace.
You wouldn't believe how many supervillains try to get out of a citation through seduction. Gosh, am I thankful for mace! Then there's the oddly deadly partner. You know, the minions that are obviously above all the other minions, but not quite strong enough to be villains on their own. They try to stand out with sharp hats, metal teeth, and such, but it's never enough. But it isn't THEIR fault, no, it's the companies, evil conglomerates, and voodoo covens, they just refuse to believe that they are still begotten to standard national safety precautions.
But still, they beg. "Please, please, my cloud city is guaranteed against hurricane grade winds!" Yes, Sir, but your safety cables are from before the '60s, and you pad your beds with asbestos. "This place is historic, I'm begging you!" Well THATS the problem, almost everything in this place is moist, molding, and your minions are getting headaches from all the ominous chanting. (Mimicry of incoherent shrieking done, impressively, in a sarcastic tone.) Sure, well your majesty, your crypt doesn't have proper wiring, if at all. Your safety exits are lined with literal death traps, and a lot of your workforce already seems to be deceased. If you want to scourge the land, you are going to have to bring this all up to code.
They all "shrink" when I hand them their final sets of notices, fees, and legal obligations. It's all the paperwork, nobody wants to do the proper paperwork, or the zoning. They just want to plop down stakes, "hire" low wage, criminally insane, engineers, and get to the fun part faster. They are fresh out of evil doctors college or birthed from chaos, and I know they just want to make a mark on this world. I get it. But just because you want to destroy the world, doesn't mean you can't do it safely.
|
"And just what is that supposed to be?" Marve stared at the quarterstaff which had a sword tangled onto one end with a bit of frayed rope, and a war-hammer head pounded onto the other.
"I call her Mince-Maker!" supernumerative second class of the twelfth legion, Creech, smiled proudly, before deflating a bit on re-examination of his macabre science fair project, "or maybe Fist-Cutter, not sure yet."
It's a fist cutter all right, Marve thought to himself as he considered how to approach the subject.
"Have you ever seen when a wee lad goes to chop wood for the first time?" Marve asked Creech, raising an eyebrow pointedly. Getting no response, he continued, "when they swing the axe for the first time, and, not expecting the weight of the thing, they lose control, and the axe swings round the front and back at them?"
Creech's slack jaw didn't understand the question, neither did Creech, which was why he was supernumerative second class instead of a sergeant.
"How do you think," Marve gestured toward the world's deadliest coat rack, "such an eventuality would play out in the cramped ranks of the legion with, erm, Mince-Maker here?"
"That would never happen!" supernumerative Creech straightened to his full unintimidating height of five-feet-four-inches and called in a special favor from Hercul, the god of strength, to flex his sword, or mincing, arm.
"Look," Marve decided to take a different tack, "you know why we have uniforms, it's not just about striking terror into the hearts of those evil peasants trying to impose their tyranny of democracy on the world and other such nasty things, it also so great warrior heroes, like yourself, don't demoralize the other troops.
"How do you think some poor green lad, his first day on the field of glory, would feel when you have the mighty Mince-Maker," Marve waved again toward the kingdom's most ill-conceived hedge-trimmer, "and all he's got is the standard issue short-blade model three?"
Creech nodded a bit, eyes boggled and mouth twisted painfully, contemplation unsure of what to do in the hither-to unexplored realm of his face and making a mess of the expression.
"Why don't we just save Mince-Maker over here in the chest of mythical artifacts, and you can come pick it up again once you get past the supernumeratives and into the numeratives? That way you won't accidentally disembow-- er-- disgrace the other rank and files with such a legendary weapon."
Marve opened the 'chest of mythical artifacts.' There was Death-Lash, a cooking cleaver attached to a long chain such that it became the most preposterous fishing-line known to man, Foe-Feller, the 17-headed axe had come with a whirling dervish of a demonstration whose scars could still be seen on Marve's desk-chair where he had barely ducked out of the way of an untimely beheading, and, his personal favorite, Dragon's Maw, a gigantic crossbow which some ingenious supernumerative had rigged up to fire bear-traps (said supernumerative had been immediately promoted to the office of tactical weaponry, with a note to skip the whole hazing bit because something was obviously a bit off and he might well over-react).
He gently took Mince-Maker from Creech and set it beside the others, then turned to hand him a model three short blade. Creech swooshed it through the air a few times, killing an imposing lantern, which had looked like it was up to no good, before he nodded and walked out.
Marve called for the next petitioner.
A supernumerative, who had somehow engulfed his entire helm in flame using an innovative and decidedly explosive series of tubes and oil-drums, crashed into the doorway as he squinted blindly out of the inferno and attempted to enter the office chamber.
Marve [sighed](https://old.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/).
|
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :)
|
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
|
The lair—in all of its evil, experimental infamy—was in an all-new state of chaos today. Mountainous men and freakish beast alike were scrambling to set weapons in their proper places, secure the experiment tanks, make sure all the lights in the normally dark halls were on, *sweep the floors?* Martin had already been working as a guard in the main hall for the last month but he had never seen the castle-turned-laboratory in such disarray. The Professor—a man without fear or sanity, caring only for his latest mad fascination—seemed *nervous*, manic in a way that Martin had yet to have the misfortune to witness. And the other guards have been whispering—*gossiping* with something both terrified and reverent in their eyes about The Inspector that would be here today.
​
Martin had been expecting an intimidating man of obvious power, able to shutdown their operation or wipe it from the face of the earth depending on his mood, but when the afternoon’s panic hits its climax, a woman that couldn’t even reach his shoulder if she *jumped* was escorted through the grand entrance, cheerfully greeting guards as if she knew she was speaking with fans.
​
The Professor meets her in the middle of the main hall, wringing his hands. Martin is stationed at a nearby pillar and cannot believe his luck, able to watch this tiny woman that inspires such terror up close. He tries to puzzle it out, but her cute bobbed hair, bright eyes and pink clip-board are immediately making her difficult to reconcile with the whispered awe of The Inspector.
​
“What’s up, Doc?” The Professor shifts anxiously as she giggles at her own joke, and Martin still can’t understand. Then she waits for a response, of which there is only more nervous shifting, and Martin sees something off. While her face is cheerful, her demeanor relaxed as if she’s visiting a friend, her eyes are—wrong. Piercing.
​
“Well!” She bounces on her toes, teeth flashing in what should be a smile. “Let’s get this show on—” the miniscule woman is interrupted by the sound of shattering glass from down the one of the hallways, gushing water, shouting—it seems one of the experiments hadn’t been quite secure enough and was now rushing down the hall in a mix of tentacles, hooves, and eerily glowing eyes. It bursts through the back of the main hall, Senior Caretakers and Hell Hounds—more snarling shadows than wolfhounds or any manner of living animal—scrambling after the abomination as it swings from rafters and leaps from pillars, slime and chunks of limestone falling in its wake. The Professor simply stares in the commotion’s general direction, glee at his creation warring with an obviously rising dread. The Inspector simply watches the Professor’s face with that same bright, vacant smile.
​
The creature finally leaps out one of the tall windows, a delayed splash indicating that it cleared the cliffs and had escaped into the surrounding ocean. A Hell Hound follows it out and—Martin winces …does not clear the cliffs. Martin fights the urge to inch away from the Professor at the mad scientist’s furious distress, indicated by his violent trembling and an aborted attempt to pull out what little remains of his hair.
​
The woman makes a sympathetic sound that doesn’t match her eyes. “Oof, no barriers on the windows. That’s gonna be a fine.”
​
The Professor makes a high-pitched choking noise. “Wait, I already have such little funding—I-it was just an *accident*, Malory—”
​
She laughs then, soft and bright, cute if not for its emptiness and the sharpness in her eyes. “That’s *exactly* why I *told you* to get barriers during the last inspection!” Blue slime drips onto her cheek and she swipes it away with her finger, looks at it idly. She cocks her head to one side as a thought seems to occur to her.
​
“What was it being contained in, exactly?”
​
“An experimental fluid of my own—”
​
“Didn’t your permit for that expire?”
​
The Professor’s unnaturally sallow skin pales, teeth creaking as they try to grind out an excuse. “O-only just last—I had already made it, so--”
​
She hums, playing with the slimes elasticity between her finger and thumb, then wiping it off on the Professor’s coat which begins to corrode on contact. She makes a note on her clipboard. “The permit is for *using* experimental mixtures—especially ones so corrosive as well as making them, Doc—” She levels him with a stare that is unimpressed and masquerading as pitying, pouting as if her feelings have been hurt. “That’s gonna cost you your license.”
​
The Professor clutches her shoulders, releases them and reels back almost instantly, and falls to his knees. “You—you can’t do this. This is my life’s work, please!”
​
She watches the man begging at her feet impassively, bounces on her toes at another sudden thought. “Oh! And if that thingey isn’t caught within the next couple of days, you will be held liable by the Villain’s Union, potentially resulting in the termination of your membership!” Having reduced the most infamous evil scientist in the hemisphere to a sobbing disaster, she makes a couple final notes on her clipboard, shakes off the hand clutching her ankle and begins to go.
​
Martin understands now, a soft but deeply felt “Holy shit” falling from his lips like a prayer.
​
She meets his eye as she walks past him, winks with a smile that finally meets her eyes, “There’s no greater evil than bureaucracy, kid.”
|
"And just what is that supposed to be?" Marve stared at the quarterstaff which had a sword tangled onto one end with a bit of frayed rope, and a war-hammer head pounded onto the other.
"I call her Mince-Maker!" supernumerative second class of the twelfth legion, Creech, smiled proudly, before deflating a bit on re-examination of his macabre science fair project, "or maybe Fist-Cutter, not sure yet."
It's a fist cutter all right, Marve thought to himself as he considered how to approach the subject.
"Have you ever seen when a wee lad goes to chop wood for the first time?" Marve asked Creech, raising an eyebrow pointedly. Getting no response, he continued, "when they swing the axe for the first time, and, not expecting the weight of the thing, they lose control, and the axe swings round the front and back at them?"
Creech's slack jaw didn't understand the question, neither did Creech, which was why he was supernumerative second class instead of a sergeant.
"How do you think," Marve gestured toward the world's deadliest coat rack, "such an eventuality would play out in the cramped ranks of the legion with, erm, Mince-Maker here?"
"That would never happen!" supernumerative Creech straightened to his full unintimidating height of five-feet-four-inches and called in a special favor from Hercul, the god of strength, to flex his sword, or mincing, arm.
"Look," Marve decided to take a different tack, "you know why we have uniforms, it's not just about striking terror into the hearts of those evil peasants trying to impose their tyranny of democracy on the world and other such nasty things, it also so great warrior heroes, like yourself, don't demoralize the other troops.
"How do you think some poor green lad, his first day on the field of glory, would feel when you have the mighty Mince-Maker," Marve waved again toward the kingdom's most ill-conceived hedge-trimmer, "and all he's got is the standard issue short-blade model three?"
Creech nodded a bit, eyes boggled and mouth twisted painfully, contemplation unsure of what to do in the hither-to unexplored realm of his face and making a mess of the expression.
"Why don't we just save Mince-Maker over here in the chest of mythical artifacts, and you can come pick it up again once you get past the supernumeratives and into the numeratives? That way you won't accidentally disembow-- er-- disgrace the other rank and files with such a legendary weapon."
Marve opened the 'chest of mythical artifacts.' There was Death-Lash, a cooking cleaver attached to a long chain such that it became the most preposterous fishing-line known to man, Foe-Feller, the 17-headed axe had come with a whirling dervish of a demonstration whose scars could still be seen on Marve's desk-chair where he had barely ducked out of the way of an untimely beheading, and, his personal favorite, Dragon's Maw, a gigantic crossbow which some ingenious supernumerative had rigged up to fire bear-traps (said supernumerative had been immediately promoted to the office of tactical weaponry, with a note to skip the whole hazing bit because something was obviously a bit off and he might well over-react).
He gently took Mince-Maker from Creech and set it beside the others, then turned to hand him a model three short blade. Creech swooshed it through the air a few times, killing an imposing lantern, which had looked like it was up to no good, before he nodded and walked out.
Marve called for the next petitioner.
A supernumerative, who had somehow engulfed his entire helm in flame using an innovative and decidedly explosive series of tubes and oil-drums, crashed into the doorway as he squinted blindly out of the inferno and attempted to enter the office chamber.
Marve [sighed](https://old.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/).
|
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :)
|
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
|
I didn't want to be the bad person's, bad person, but what can you do? Most people don't like government work, and those that do are often unprepared for your average mad scientists, eccentric pet enthusiast, corrupted shaman, or C'thulian cleric. I don't even ask the new people for their names anymore; once you're in sector 13 of OSHA's of NTSH (Nothing To See Here) Unit, it's a one in ten chance. At best. That's why I work alone.
It's easier that way. I got tired of filling out accidental death forms, injury liability waivers, ancient blood scripts from the Vatican. They are just TOO eager starting out, the newbies, they pile right through those ominous doors with their little clipboard in hand, and BOOM, dead. Or. Well. Semi alive ectoplasm? Anthropomorphized sexual offender? It's honestly hard to keep up. The most common deaths are: Magma based incineration. Weaponized tesla coils. And, the big one, slipping on "red shirt" blood. That's why I wear the helmet, the googles, the slip-proof steel-toed loafers, the holy water, and my mace.
You wouldn't believe how many supervillains try to get out of a citation through seduction. Gosh, am I thankful for mace! Then there's the oddly deadly partner. You know, the minions that are obviously above all the other minions, but not quite strong enough to be villains on their own. They try to stand out with sharp hats, metal teeth, and such, but it's never enough. But it isn't THEIR fault, no, it's the companies, evil conglomerates, and voodoo covens, they just refuse to believe that they are still begotten to standard national safety precautions.
But still, they beg. "Please, please, my cloud city is guaranteed against hurricane grade winds!" Yes, Sir, but your safety cables are from before the '60s, and you pad your beds with asbestos. "This place is historic, I'm begging you!" Well THATS the problem, almost everything in this place is moist, molding, and your minions are getting headaches from all the ominous chanting. (Mimicry of incoherent shrieking done, impressively, in a sarcastic tone.) Sure, well your majesty, your crypt doesn't have proper wiring, if at all. Your safety exits are lined with literal death traps, and a lot of your workforce already seems to be deceased. If you want to scourge the land, you are going to have to bring this all up to code.
They all "shrink" when I hand them their final sets of notices, fees, and legal obligations. It's all the paperwork, nobody wants to do the proper paperwork, or the zoning. They just want to plop down stakes, "hire" low wage, criminally insane, engineers, and get to the fun part faster. They are fresh out of evil doctors college or birthed from chaos, and I know they just want to make a mark on this world. I get it. But just because you want to destroy the world, doesn't mean you can't do it safely.
|
Tom sighed. His knees cracked as he stood up, his back ached. Pulling his clipboard of his belt he turned toward, The Invader... or was it The Infester… maybe the Eviscerator?
“Now why, Mr. Invader, do you need a Hole of Pain and Agony?”
“Um, it’s Hole of Pains and Agonies,” the mousy voice projected from within a large Viking helmet. It was painted black with what looked like house paint. The cheap stuff you’d get at Villains Depot.
Tom looked down at the makeshift hole again, then the man. Blading, hanging onto his last few scraps of hair ala George Costanza. He almost disappeared underneath the large shoulder pads adorned with spikes, hockey mitts as gloves, and knee-high grey boots.
“Mmm, so why the *Hole of Pains and Agonies*?” Tom asked again as he corrected Line 3 of his form.
The Invader looked down at the hole, gave a half-smile.
“Well, it really boosts productivity around here. I mean, ya threaten to throw someone into a hole they get scootin’.” The Invader seemed happy about that, perking up little.
Tom pulled out his phone, took a few pictures of the hole, filled out a couple more lines on his form, and glanced around the “lair”. A handful of workers (mostly migrant workers) pulled levers, moved lumbar, and cleaned dials. Tom had a feeling the levers didn’t open anything, and the dials adjusted nothing. Trust fund money perhaps? A grown man child playing supervillain.
“This hole is just wildly out of regulation. I mean it’s barely five feet deep! The spikes are too short to kill anyone on impact and there’s no cover. An accident waiting to happen. Have you ever dropped anyone down here?” Tom knew the answer.
Shrugging, The Invader looked over into the hole with Tom and sheepishly answered, “I mean not exactly. Like I said, it really motivates these fellas to get movin’.”
“Listen, get your act together. If I did a full inspection around this place, I’d have you closed in the hour. And, to be frank, for a guy with a level F power like “Blending In”, you don’t have the clout to get out of all the legal trouble you’d have.”
In the background, Tom could hear The Invader make excuses and promises about the conditions of the lair, but he was already tuned out. Tom had heard it before; chances are this guy was more likely to fall down the damn hole than survive his next inspection.
Half walking away, Tom ripped off the white copy of his report and handed it to the little man. Opening the door, he halfheartedly said, “Next inspection is on the 15th, get your shit together.”
He walked from the suburban-looking home, minus the “Lair of the Enforcer” sign on the front. Ah, Enforcer… That was it. His beat-up lime green Impala sat on the corner. Leaning against it, he lit some cheap gas station cigarette and caught a glance of himself in the rearview mirror.
Tom Taddle, once the great Destroyer of Lives, Eater of Men, the Skull Bringer, was now a fucking OSHA auditor. He grimaced at the thought, threw the butt down, and slunk into the car. It was about time for a drink.
|
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :)
|
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
|
The lair—in all of its evil, experimental infamy—was in an all-new state of chaos today. Mountainous men and freakish beast alike were scrambling to set weapons in their proper places, secure the experiment tanks, make sure all the lights in the normally dark halls were on, *sweep the floors?* Martin had already been working as a guard in the main hall for the last month but he had never seen the castle-turned-laboratory in such disarray. The Professor—a man without fear or sanity, caring only for his latest mad fascination—seemed *nervous*, manic in a way that Martin had yet to have the misfortune to witness. And the other guards have been whispering—*gossiping* with something both terrified and reverent in their eyes about The Inspector that would be here today.
​
Martin had been expecting an intimidating man of obvious power, able to shutdown their operation or wipe it from the face of the earth depending on his mood, but when the afternoon’s panic hits its climax, a woman that couldn’t even reach his shoulder if she *jumped* was escorted through the grand entrance, cheerfully greeting guards as if she knew she was speaking with fans.
​
The Professor meets her in the middle of the main hall, wringing his hands. Martin is stationed at a nearby pillar and cannot believe his luck, able to watch this tiny woman that inspires such terror up close. He tries to puzzle it out, but her cute bobbed hair, bright eyes and pink clip-board are immediately making her difficult to reconcile with the whispered awe of The Inspector.
​
“What’s up, Doc?” The Professor shifts anxiously as she giggles at her own joke, and Martin still can’t understand. Then she waits for a response, of which there is only more nervous shifting, and Martin sees something off. While her face is cheerful, her demeanor relaxed as if she’s visiting a friend, her eyes are—wrong. Piercing.
​
“Well!” She bounces on her toes, teeth flashing in what should be a smile. “Let’s get this show on—” the miniscule woman is interrupted by the sound of shattering glass from down the one of the hallways, gushing water, shouting—it seems one of the experiments hadn’t been quite secure enough and was now rushing down the hall in a mix of tentacles, hooves, and eerily glowing eyes. It bursts through the back of the main hall, Senior Caretakers and Hell Hounds—more snarling shadows than wolfhounds or any manner of living animal—scrambling after the abomination as it swings from rafters and leaps from pillars, slime and chunks of limestone falling in its wake. The Professor simply stares in the commotion’s general direction, glee at his creation warring with an obviously rising dread. The Inspector simply watches the Professor’s face with that same bright, vacant smile.
​
The creature finally leaps out one of the tall windows, a delayed splash indicating that it cleared the cliffs and had escaped into the surrounding ocean. A Hell Hound follows it out and—Martin winces …does not clear the cliffs. Martin fights the urge to inch away from the Professor at the mad scientist’s furious distress, indicated by his violent trembling and an aborted attempt to pull out what little remains of his hair.
​
The woman makes a sympathetic sound that doesn’t match her eyes. “Oof, no barriers on the windows. That’s gonna be a fine.”
​
The Professor makes a high-pitched choking noise. “Wait, I already have such little funding—I-it was just an *accident*, Malory—”
​
She laughs then, soft and bright, cute if not for its emptiness and the sharpness in her eyes. “That’s *exactly* why I *told you* to get barriers during the last inspection!” Blue slime drips onto her cheek and she swipes it away with her finger, looks at it idly. She cocks her head to one side as a thought seems to occur to her.
​
“What was it being contained in, exactly?”
​
“An experimental fluid of my own—”
​
“Didn’t your permit for that expire?”
​
The Professor’s unnaturally sallow skin pales, teeth creaking as they try to grind out an excuse. “O-only just last—I had already made it, so--”
​
She hums, playing with the slimes elasticity between her finger and thumb, then wiping it off on the Professor’s coat which begins to corrode on contact. She makes a note on her clipboard. “The permit is for *using* experimental mixtures—especially ones so corrosive as well as making them, Doc—” She levels him with a stare that is unimpressed and masquerading as pitying, pouting as if her feelings have been hurt. “That’s gonna cost you your license.”
​
The Professor clutches her shoulders, releases them and reels back almost instantly, and falls to his knees. “You—you can’t do this. This is my life’s work, please!”
​
She watches the man begging at her feet impassively, bounces on her toes at another sudden thought. “Oh! And if that thingey isn’t caught within the next couple of days, you will be held liable by the Villain’s Union, potentially resulting in the termination of your membership!” Having reduced the most infamous evil scientist in the hemisphere to a sobbing disaster, she makes a couple final notes on her clipboard, shakes off the hand clutching her ankle and begins to go.
​
Martin understands now, a soft but deeply felt “Holy shit” falling from his lips like a prayer.
​
She meets his eye as she walks past him, winks with a smile that finally meets her eyes, “There’s no greater evil than bureaucracy, kid.”
|
Tom sighed. His knees cracked as he stood up, his back ached. Pulling his clipboard of his belt he turned toward, The Invader... or was it The Infester… maybe the Eviscerator?
“Now why, Mr. Invader, do you need a Hole of Pain and Agony?”
“Um, it’s Hole of Pains and Agonies,” the mousy voice projected from within a large Viking helmet. It was painted black with what looked like house paint. The cheap stuff you’d get at Villains Depot.
Tom looked down at the makeshift hole again, then the man. Blading, hanging onto his last few scraps of hair ala George Costanza. He almost disappeared underneath the large shoulder pads adorned with spikes, hockey mitts as gloves, and knee-high grey boots.
“Mmm, so why the *Hole of Pains and Agonies*?” Tom asked again as he corrected Line 3 of his form.
The Invader looked down at the hole, gave a half-smile.
“Well, it really boosts productivity around here. I mean, ya threaten to throw someone into a hole they get scootin’.” The Invader seemed happy about that, perking up little.
Tom pulled out his phone, took a few pictures of the hole, filled out a couple more lines on his form, and glanced around the “lair”. A handful of workers (mostly migrant workers) pulled levers, moved lumbar, and cleaned dials. Tom had a feeling the levers didn’t open anything, and the dials adjusted nothing. Trust fund money perhaps? A grown man child playing supervillain.
“This hole is just wildly out of regulation. I mean it’s barely five feet deep! The spikes are too short to kill anyone on impact and there’s no cover. An accident waiting to happen. Have you ever dropped anyone down here?” Tom knew the answer.
Shrugging, The Invader looked over into the hole with Tom and sheepishly answered, “I mean not exactly. Like I said, it really motivates these fellas to get movin’.”
“Listen, get your act together. If I did a full inspection around this place, I’d have you closed in the hour. And, to be frank, for a guy with a level F power like “Blending In”, you don’t have the clout to get out of all the legal trouble you’d have.”
In the background, Tom could hear The Invader make excuses and promises about the conditions of the lair, but he was already tuned out. Tom had heard it before; chances are this guy was more likely to fall down the damn hole than survive his next inspection.
Half walking away, Tom ripped off the white copy of his report and handed it to the little man. Opening the door, he halfheartedly said, “Next inspection is on the 15th, get your shit together.”
He walked from the suburban-looking home, minus the “Lair of the Enforcer” sign on the front. Ah, Enforcer… That was it. His beat-up lime green Impala sat on the corner. Leaning against it, he lit some cheap gas station cigarette and caught a glance of himself in the rearview mirror.
Tom Taddle, once the great Destroyer of Lives, Eater of Men, the Skull Bringer, was now a fucking OSHA auditor. He grimaced at the thought, threw the butt down, and slunk into the car. It was about time for a drink.
|
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :)
|
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
|
The lair—in all of its evil, experimental infamy—was in an all-new state of chaos today. Mountainous men and freakish beast alike were scrambling to set weapons in their proper places, secure the experiment tanks, make sure all the lights in the normally dark halls were on, *sweep the floors?* Martin had already been working as a guard in the main hall for the last month but he had never seen the castle-turned-laboratory in such disarray. The Professor—a man without fear or sanity, caring only for his latest mad fascination—seemed *nervous*, manic in a way that Martin had yet to have the misfortune to witness. And the other guards have been whispering—*gossiping* with something both terrified and reverent in their eyes about The Inspector that would be here today.
​
Martin had been expecting an intimidating man of obvious power, able to shutdown their operation or wipe it from the face of the earth depending on his mood, but when the afternoon’s panic hits its climax, a woman that couldn’t even reach his shoulder if she *jumped* was escorted through the grand entrance, cheerfully greeting guards as if she knew she was speaking with fans.
​
The Professor meets her in the middle of the main hall, wringing his hands. Martin is stationed at a nearby pillar and cannot believe his luck, able to watch this tiny woman that inspires such terror up close. He tries to puzzle it out, but her cute bobbed hair, bright eyes and pink clip-board are immediately making her difficult to reconcile with the whispered awe of The Inspector.
​
“What’s up, Doc?” The Professor shifts anxiously as she giggles at her own joke, and Martin still can’t understand. Then she waits for a response, of which there is only more nervous shifting, and Martin sees something off. While her face is cheerful, her demeanor relaxed as if she’s visiting a friend, her eyes are—wrong. Piercing.
​
“Well!” She bounces on her toes, teeth flashing in what should be a smile. “Let’s get this show on—” the miniscule woman is interrupted by the sound of shattering glass from down the one of the hallways, gushing water, shouting—it seems one of the experiments hadn’t been quite secure enough and was now rushing down the hall in a mix of tentacles, hooves, and eerily glowing eyes. It bursts through the back of the main hall, Senior Caretakers and Hell Hounds—more snarling shadows than wolfhounds or any manner of living animal—scrambling after the abomination as it swings from rafters and leaps from pillars, slime and chunks of limestone falling in its wake. The Professor simply stares in the commotion’s general direction, glee at his creation warring with an obviously rising dread. The Inspector simply watches the Professor’s face with that same bright, vacant smile.
​
The creature finally leaps out one of the tall windows, a delayed splash indicating that it cleared the cliffs and had escaped into the surrounding ocean. A Hell Hound follows it out and—Martin winces …does not clear the cliffs. Martin fights the urge to inch away from the Professor at the mad scientist’s furious distress, indicated by his violent trembling and an aborted attempt to pull out what little remains of his hair.
​
The woman makes a sympathetic sound that doesn’t match her eyes. “Oof, no barriers on the windows. That’s gonna be a fine.”
​
The Professor makes a high-pitched choking noise. “Wait, I already have such little funding—I-it was just an *accident*, Malory—”
​
She laughs then, soft and bright, cute if not for its emptiness and the sharpness in her eyes. “That’s *exactly* why I *told you* to get barriers during the last inspection!” Blue slime drips onto her cheek and she swipes it away with her finger, looks at it idly. She cocks her head to one side as a thought seems to occur to her.
​
“What was it being contained in, exactly?”
​
“An experimental fluid of my own—”
​
“Didn’t your permit for that expire?”
​
The Professor’s unnaturally sallow skin pales, teeth creaking as they try to grind out an excuse. “O-only just last—I had already made it, so--”
​
She hums, playing with the slimes elasticity between her finger and thumb, then wiping it off on the Professor’s coat which begins to corrode on contact. She makes a note on her clipboard. “The permit is for *using* experimental mixtures—especially ones so corrosive as well as making them, Doc—” She levels him with a stare that is unimpressed and masquerading as pitying, pouting as if her feelings have been hurt. “That’s gonna cost you your license.”
​
The Professor clutches her shoulders, releases them and reels back almost instantly, and falls to his knees. “You—you can’t do this. This is my life’s work, please!”
​
She watches the man begging at her feet impassively, bounces on her toes at another sudden thought. “Oh! And if that thingey isn’t caught within the next couple of days, you will be held liable by the Villain’s Union, potentially resulting in the termination of your membership!” Having reduced the most infamous evil scientist in the hemisphere to a sobbing disaster, she makes a couple final notes on her clipboard, shakes off the hand clutching her ankle and begins to go.
​
Martin understands now, a soft but deeply felt “Holy shit” falling from his lips like a prayer.
​
She meets his eye as she walks past him, winks with a smile that finally meets her eyes, “There’s no greater evil than bureaucracy, kid.”
|
I didn't want to be the bad person's, bad person, but what can you do? Most people don't like government work, and those that do are often unprepared for your average mad scientists, eccentric pet enthusiast, corrupted shaman, or C'thulian cleric. I don't even ask the new people for their names anymore; once you're in sector 13 of OSHA's of NTSH (Nothing To See Here) Unit, it's a one in ten chance. At best. That's why I work alone.
It's easier that way. I got tired of filling out accidental death forms, injury liability waivers, ancient blood scripts from the Vatican. They are just TOO eager starting out, the newbies, they pile right through those ominous doors with their little clipboard in hand, and BOOM, dead. Or. Well. Semi alive ectoplasm? Anthropomorphized sexual offender? It's honestly hard to keep up. The most common deaths are: Magma based incineration. Weaponized tesla coils. And, the big one, slipping on "red shirt" blood. That's why I wear the helmet, the googles, the slip-proof steel-toed loafers, the holy water, and my mace.
You wouldn't believe how many supervillains try to get out of a citation through seduction. Gosh, am I thankful for mace! Then there's the oddly deadly partner. You know, the minions that are obviously above all the other minions, but not quite strong enough to be villains on their own. They try to stand out with sharp hats, metal teeth, and such, but it's never enough. But it isn't THEIR fault, no, it's the companies, evil conglomerates, and voodoo covens, they just refuse to believe that they are still begotten to standard national safety precautions.
But still, they beg. "Please, please, my cloud city is guaranteed against hurricane grade winds!" Yes, Sir, but your safety cables are from before the '60s, and you pad your beds with asbestos. "This place is historic, I'm begging you!" Well THATS the problem, almost everything in this place is moist, molding, and your minions are getting headaches from all the ominous chanting. (Mimicry of incoherent shrieking done, impressively, in a sarcastic tone.) Sure, well your majesty, your crypt doesn't have proper wiring, if at all. Your safety exits are lined with literal death traps, and a lot of your workforce already seems to be deceased. If you want to scourge the land, you are going to have to bring this all up to code.
They all "shrink" when I hand them their final sets of notices, fees, and legal obligations. It's all the paperwork, nobody wants to do the proper paperwork, or the zoning. They just want to plop down stakes, "hire" low wage, criminally insane, engineers, and get to the fun part faster. They are fresh out of evil doctors college or birthed from chaos, and I know they just want to make a mark on this world. I get it. But just because you want to destroy the world, doesn't mean you can't do it safely.
|
Edit: Many thanks for the gold and silver! Your excellent stories, however, are the real award. :)
|
[WP] “Please.” The Villian whimpers. “There must be something I can do.” You stare at your clipboard. “Lose the spikes and turn off the volcano and we can talk.” Being an OSHA auditor for superpowers is a whole new type of power trip.
|
The incessant clickity clack of the pen was driving the "power broker" nuts..
"Could you just...put the pen away?? " the power broker snarled.
"And why would I do that? " the auditor snapped back.
"Nevermind...you people never listen anyway" he muttered under his breath.
"What was that???" the auditor retorted.
"Nothing Nothing" he said with hands raised trying to put the auditor at ease
The power-broker couldn't help but see the irony of his position. His entire enterprise was built on securing goods, people, and strategies for the criminally powerful. He was the one who secured the lasers for the "Mad Doctor" and the destroyed the federal building in 13 countries for the "Demon's Mob"
Notoriously elusive, hard to catch, and some doubted the existence of...but....
*The OSHA Officer was real.*
A bead of sweat rolled down the brokers face, hidden behind his dark sunglasses and the drop absorbed by his dark suit. He looked cool as a cucumber, except for the fact that he wasn't.
*Why me dammit?*
It made no sense. He covered all of his tracks as always and his partners had the highest discretion. Unable to stand the silence as the auditor looked around:
"Was it Ronnie who tipped you off?" the broker politely asked.
The auditor peered his sight back to the broker who was nervous to make eye contact.
"What tipped me off?.... What tipped me Off?..you really gotta ask that? " the auditor replied.
"What tipped me off was the goddamn military parade runnin through chicago!" the auditor snapped.
"You know our mandate - Mr."Broker" and you think you can assemble what the ever living hell you like in downtown chicago? Ohhhhh hell naw "
"I can always relocate, I promise" he quickly replied.
"How the hell you gonna relocate a goddamn missile factory and 3 acid pits fool? " auditor said.
"Do you *even* have permits for this shit????"
"Umm no, I'm the villain remember? I don't apply for permits..." the broker asked puzzled.
"Maybe the fancy european OSHA let's that slide but not here fool, you're in my jurisdiction now, you better believe those vats are a tripping hazard- not even a wet floor sign smh..."
The auditor looked angry and disappointed. The power broker had no idea what to do - he was about to fail inspection, which meant....losing his position in the Villains union, being a laughing stock to his peers, and worst of all: reassignment of powers.
"Please sir! I love what I do! Don't take this away from me , I beg of you!!!" the broker said with a deep charge in his voice.
"There's only one way you getting outta this..." the auditor calmly replied.
"Yes! Anything!"
"Imma need a 70% discount on all your merchandise..." he said.
"Of course, of course - use coupon code BFFONLY at checkout " the power broker said. His website was his pride and joy, it's how he met the "mad doctor" or the "Fear sniper", lifelong friends and business partners.
"Really? Why thank you!" the auditor smiled.
"But you *still* getting an F for FOOL" he clapped back.
"NOOOOOOOOO!!!" the broker yelled.
It was in that moment the broker realized, who the real power broker was.
\--------
*I decided to go for a funnier take and I hope you enjoy :)*
*- Marlon Frost*
|
With a heavy sigh I pulled up to the not obvious evil lair entrance. You'd think hiding it under a waterfall would be a god idea, but when its carved into the back of a mountain with a skull for a face it's not very easy to hide.
My old pickup whined as it drove through what seemed to be a road of bone down into some pit. Metal scaffolds were everywhere, people being tortured in numerous ways and all sorts of things I was numb to at this point.
With a heavy sigh I pulled into the gaping skull of *something* setting off an alarm. henchman, monsters and mutants swarmed my car, ready to destroy it. I simply walked out and used the power of an OSHA inspection badge. They cowered in fear as I blankly said, "Take me to Mr. Evil, now.". A being that could probably snap we like a twig personally escorted me up a grand set of stairs in this cavern, trying to be polite, or the best you can be with 3 mouths.
I enter the office of Mr. Evil, who is known to have committed several war crimes, but I'm OSHA not the police. With lavish velvet, a grand window f his operation and other things he fit the motive of super villain With the swoosh of a black cape he pronounces with a deep voice like a knock of Darth Vader, "Who dares enter my office!" Again a flash of the badge was all I needed before his demeanor changed.
Angrily he shouted, "Johnathan, you told me he was coming Wednesday, today's Monday!" before I could react the 3 mouthed thing next to me turned to ash. A big smile spread n his face, "So, inspector here for the routines check up, right?"
i could see beads of sweat rolling down his face. "Actually I got a call from a worker about an A-12 violation, we talked about this before." I gesture out the window to a pit of magma with a woman being lowered slowly into it. "This is the 3rd warning to put rails by that pit. You at least secured the spiked chain around her, but the rails man, come on you're better than this!"
He collapsed on his knees, pleading in his eyes "Please, nowhere else will suit my needs. I can't get another A-12, that'll bankrupt me!Please, anything but that!"
I just cold stare him. "You have warned several times Mr. Evil, with so many violations that it is almost worse than what you have done in recent years is almost as worse. You have one week to pay the fine or receive a court summons." I ignored his pleading and walked down the staircase, disgust filling me as I walked out.
I pull out a small megaphone yelling to his minions, my voice echoing in the cavern, "Until further notice all workers on site must leave at once. Repeat, this operation is shut down until further notice."
With that I sigh, check another name off my list and drive on out to a Mr. Iceman in my future.
|
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*.
|
Talent is hitting a target no one else can hit. Genius is hitting a target no one else even knew existed.
I was shunned from my family of great supers at birth. My ability was simply "75%". No name, just a percentage. 75% is good for most, but once again, my blood was not average. No, no, it was the best. My father, the strongest man alive. My mother, the only healer who can cure cancer. My uncle, a man that can read minds anywhere on the globe. My grandfather, a man with intelligence that made von Neumann look dull in comparison. My brother, faster than than any other mortal, by hundreds of miles, per hour.
Me? 75%. I grew up slightly above average, not noticeably. The occasional "whoa, you're kinda smart" or "Huh, impressive for a newbie", but I blended in quite well overall.
But you see, I am not talented. I am a genius.
75% of the strongest man alive, still makes me the second strongest man alive. But 75% of the strength of every super combined, makes me stronger than each one of them.
75% of the combined intelligence of just my family makes me the smartest man alive.
My ability was seen as... useless. Pathetic. Subpar. By mortals. If I ascend to godhood, but only reach 3/4ths of the way up, I still tower over them all.
Genius is hitting a target no one even knew existed. If I aim beyond the target, even missing it is a feat all by itself.
My success is a side effect of constant failure.
My name is Jack, master of none.
|
Hear them speak. Their egos boom over their capabilities. All of them choked by their pride. In an age of evolution pride was acceptable. All the peoples of the earth had a piece of God in them. They could all claim dominion over one divine attribute. Speed, strength, telekinesis, invisibility and so on. I on the other hand was cursed with the inability to express my divinity to its greatest potential. However, I had something that no one else had.
Unlike them, I had the added benefit of being just good enough at anything I could conceptually conceive. I could be almost as strong as the strongest man or almost as strong as a planet floating through space. I could be almost as strong as the fastest man or almost as fast as light. I could almost be a god.
The rest of the world would swim in decadence over their newfound godliness. I had been here before. Many times over. All I had to do was almost get time traveling and dimensional transport right. It worked out almost perfectly every time. In multiple universes I became almost supreme good and almost supreme evil. Myth and history had come to know me without knowing that the man in the text was the man before them.
In the beginning, I was a laughing stock. When the changes begun, I had nothing to show. Look at me now. Can you though? I’m almost invisible. I’m almost here, there and everywhere. Now, the world bows to me. The world bows to the idea of me. I am almost the alpha and almost the omega. I am almost omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent. I was also almost the father of humankind. But another time traveler beat me to it. But I’m definitely almost good enough to build a world. So as I roam with these lowly beings I work on building an okay universe on the side. No one will ever know about it. If I’m good enough at keeping it a secret.
|
|
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*.
|
A hero is more than just a Super.
They're the epitome of doing what it takes to bring out the best in others.
I always wanted to be that kind of hero. A charismatic leader on the forefront of a brighter future, a greater tomorrow.
But, fate can be a fickle mistress.
I was a late bloomer. My powers didn't come in until I was 14. By then, most of the kids my age had already been training to use theirs for the past 2 or 3 years. I was so far behind everyone in my year, the others had begun to call me Null, on account of my Powers being nothing up until that moment. Of course, once my powers came in, it was too late to lose the nickname. It just stuck.
Not knowing what my powers were at first didn't make my situation any better.
The first time I used them, I made a fireball, same as my mother, and I was convinced I was a Pyromancer just like her. But, the next day, after a demonstration from my professor, I made an energy barrier, same as his. According to my professor, that apparently meant I was a Copy Cat, a Super with the ability to mimic the abilities of other Supers, the caveat being that it would always be one at a time and a reduced version of the original.
I thought it was cool at first. The ability to copy the powers of my classmates and have them at my disposal. But, then I got my second nickname - Next. Why 'Next'? Because compared to the Supers who could use their powers at 100%, I was the next-best thing.
It seemed harmless enough at first, but then someone clued me in to its other meaning. In a world of Supers striving for the position of Number 1, I would always be second place. I would never be the epitome that others strive for. Instead, I'd be the next-best thing, always overshadowed by Number 1.
Adamant to prove them wrong, I worked hard to surpass my classmates in every field; but, the nickname was the bane of my existence until the day I graduated. Graduating second in my year only made it worse.
Things didn't get any better after graduation.
As a certified Super, I was free to apply to any Hero Sponsor of my choice, but once they heard what my power was, I was rejected over and over again. 27 sponsors. All said no. Each rejection like a blow to the gut.
Their reason? Apparently, it's hard to market a hero whose power may infringe on the brand of another Hero Sponsor. Go figure.
After a year of trying, I was at my wits' end. I didn't want to give up on my dream but I was beginning to feel the crushing weight of defeat looming over me.
That's when I met Mirror.
Mirror was a Super who, just like myself, had a power that depended on the abilities of other Supers and, despite having a dream of changing the world, also couldn't get a Sponsor to back him.
After getting to know each other over the course of a few months, Mirror and I came up with a way to do what we wanted. We became independent, for-hire Supers, our Sponsor who ever could afford the fees and damages that came with the line of work.
Our first year was like a dream come true. I even discovered that copying was never the true nature of my ability. The reality of it was, if a power existed, it was at my disposal. It was just easier to do the ones I had seen before. And it wasn't just one at a time either. If I wanted to, I could use any combination of them at anytime. The caveat of it being a fraction of the original ability was still there, but when you considered that some of those abilities were almost limitless in potential - a fraction of infinity is still infinity.
After the first year, it felt like the world was finally opening up to me. Like we could change the world.
And we did change it. But, when did it all go wrong?
When did I become the Number 1 Villain?
|
Hear them speak. Their egos boom over their capabilities. All of them choked by their pride. In an age of evolution pride was acceptable. All the peoples of the earth had a piece of God in them. They could all claim dominion over one divine attribute. Speed, strength, telekinesis, invisibility and so on. I on the other hand was cursed with the inability to express my divinity to its greatest potential. However, I had something that no one else had.
Unlike them, I had the added benefit of being just good enough at anything I could conceptually conceive. I could be almost as strong as the strongest man or almost as strong as a planet floating through space. I could be almost as strong as the fastest man or almost as fast as light. I could almost be a god.
The rest of the world would swim in decadence over their newfound godliness. I had been here before. Many times over. All I had to do was almost get time traveling and dimensional transport right. It worked out almost perfectly every time. In multiple universes I became almost supreme good and almost supreme evil. Myth and history had come to know me without knowing that the man in the text was the man before them.
In the beginning, I was a laughing stock. When the changes begun, I had nothing to show. Look at me now. Can you though? I’m almost invisible. I’m almost here, there and everywhere. Now, the world bows to me. The world bows to the idea of me. I am almost the alpha and almost the omega. I am almost omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent. I was also almost the father of humankind. But another time traveler beat me to it. But I’m definitely almost good enough to build a world. So as I roam with these lowly beings I work on building an okay universe on the side. No one will ever know about it. If I’m good enough at keeping it a secret.
|
|
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*.
|
Talent is hitting a target no one else can hit. Genius is hitting a target no one else even knew existed.
I was shunned from my family of great supers at birth. My ability was simply "75%". No name, just a percentage. 75% is good for most, but once again, my blood was not average. No, no, it was the best. My father, the strongest man alive. My mother, the only healer who can cure cancer. My uncle, a man that can read minds anywhere on the globe. My grandfather, a man with intelligence that made von Neumann look dull in comparison. My brother, faster than than any other mortal, by hundreds of miles, per hour.
Me? 75%. I grew up slightly above average, not noticeably. The occasional "whoa, you're kinda smart" or "Huh, impressive for a newbie", but I blended in quite well overall.
But you see, I am not talented. I am a genius.
75% of the strongest man alive, still makes me the second strongest man alive. But 75% of the strength of every super combined, makes me stronger than each one of them.
75% of the combined intelligence of just my family makes me the smartest man alive.
My ability was seen as... useless. Pathetic. Subpar. By mortals. If I ascend to godhood, but only reach 3/4ths of the way up, I still tower over them all.
Genius is hitting a target no one even knew existed. If I aim beyond the target, even missing it is a feat all by itself.
My success is a side effect of constant failure.
My name is Jack, master of none.
|
I was taunted all my life for it, "only 75%, might as well be a dud loser-girl" but boy oh boy were they wrong. they didnt understand what anything meant.
Theres the people who use their powers for good, and those who use them for evil. and the neutrals, us shades of grey not noticed by the papers.
one evil group, the four of clubs, as they called themselves were the strongest of us supers. the only two immortals, a boy with the power of the stars, and a mind controller a rank above all of the others. when they came to town, everyone gave up. we got our warning note last week.
still, they laughed at me
"Whats loser girl gonna do? cry 75% of her sadness away?"
"yeah, she might as well dig 75% of her own grave and save everyone the time."
over and over. every blue moon id hear one thats actually original, but that made it easier to tolerate if anything. but it was now or never.
the day came and i was the only one out. i had made a suit during the time of waiting, a simple purple shirt, black pants, and boots that went up 75% of my lower leg. no mask, and no cape.
the four of clubs came on time, like with everyone else they decimated, but it wouldnt be that simple.
"Hey, boss, someones out!" the star boy said, in an awfully childish voice. he had to be high school age.
"Oh... well why might this be?"
he turned to me and asked
"What is your name, i would feel bad taking your mind without knowing."
I stood up and got in a ready position before saying
"Its Rey, and it wont be that easy, i can do *anything* 75% of the way"
Of course, they started to laugh, another group of fools who dont get it. my goal was to kill them all. i looked over while they were still distracted, fortifying my mind, 75% of the way.
I pulled my knife and went for the two in the back, the immortals, and the biggest threats. not because of collateral damage, but because they normally cant die. normally.
The first one fell after a few good hits, and then everyone realized i was serious. i felt a twinge of pain in my head before the mindmaster swore. 75% as good as him is still 5x as strong as anyone else.
Next was the second immortal. my head still ringing i tackled him with 75% the force of the big bang. with my goal to be to kill them all, he fell too. 50% down, and the most dangerous in the long term. star boy started to flee, but i created a wall 75% the strength of the pressure of space. i couldnt have any of them leave, or else 75% changes.
the mindmaster changed strategies faster than i thought and brought in 6 people. only one of which i actually worried for. star boy noticed my looking at them and gave me a good flamethrower, luckily, im 75% fireproof in a 75% fireproof suit, so not much burned. i then felt the pain in my head again, slightly stronger, so i changed my fortifications from 75% of his to 75% of double what he has. the pain went away with that move.
getting sick of his trying, i pulled my knife from the first Ex-immortals heart and used power equal to 75% of the energy created in a year to make the blade 75% lead. most mindmelders were weak to lead, so he couldnt be much different, right?
I lunged at him with 75% the speed of light, but he teleported out of the way. a rare trait among mindmelders. not a suprise he could do it. i tried again with the same result.
he then tried to take another mental jab at me, to no effect. a laughable effort, but proving we were at a draw. but for my little sister, who he took over, i had to keep fighting.
I used 75% of the power of the strongest weaponmaster to shift my knife again, from a 75% lead knife to a 75% scale greatsword. i swung only to see i was still barely short on range. always too short.
i stopped for a moment, my breath heavy. how was i to get at that bastard? then, one of his mind slaves took a swing at me. Jerri, had the powers of conjuration. i dodged out of the way with a new idea.
i teleported with 75% accuracy to slightly to the left behind the mindmaster. luckily, i was off a bit, so i started to swing, getting him to teleport. i followed while mid shoulder barge, hitting him square in the back, knocking him over. i then swung for his neck, ready to finish it.
when i looked up, he was infront of me, and starboy was the one hit. the one i was trying to spare. i fought off tears, the kid was still evil, someone would have got to him anyway. i tried my best, but still, i couldnt fully hide my emotions. i felt my defences drop and the pain in my head come back.
the last thing i heard was the mindmaster saying
"Well, i commend you for your efforts, but you did say 75%, and i believe you have killed 75% of us, so now, my dear Rey, its my turn, though this has been fun"
and the sound of my bones cracking.
|
|
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*.
|
A hero is more than just a Super.
They're the epitome of doing what it takes to bring out the best in others.
I always wanted to be that kind of hero. A charismatic leader on the forefront of a brighter future, a greater tomorrow.
But, fate can be a fickle mistress.
I was a late bloomer. My powers didn't come in until I was 14. By then, most of the kids my age had already been training to use theirs for the past 2 or 3 years. I was so far behind everyone in my year, the others had begun to call me Null, on account of my Powers being nothing up until that moment. Of course, once my powers came in, it was too late to lose the nickname. It just stuck.
Not knowing what my powers were at first didn't make my situation any better.
The first time I used them, I made a fireball, same as my mother, and I was convinced I was a Pyromancer just like her. But, the next day, after a demonstration from my professor, I made an energy barrier, same as his. According to my professor, that apparently meant I was a Copy Cat, a Super with the ability to mimic the abilities of other Supers, the caveat being that it would always be one at a time and a reduced version of the original.
I thought it was cool at first. The ability to copy the powers of my classmates and have them at my disposal. But, then I got my second nickname - Next. Why 'Next'? Because compared to the Supers who could use their powers at 100%, I was the next-best thing.
It seemed harmless enough at first, but then someone clued me in to its other meaning. In a world of Supers striving for the position of Number 1, I would always be second place. I would never be the epitome that others strive for. Instead, I'd be the next-best thing, always overshadowed by Number 1.
Adamant to prove them wrong, I worked hard to surpass my classmates in every field; but, the nickname was the bane of my existence until the day I graduated. Graduating second in my year only made it worse.
Things didn't get any better after graduation.
As a certified Super, I was free to apply to any Hero Sponsor of my choice, but once they heard what my power was, I was rejected over and over again. 27 sponsors. All said no. Each rejection like a blow to the gut.
Their reason? Apparently, it's hard to market a hero whose power may infringe on the brand of another Hero Sponsor. Go figure.
After a year of trying, I was at my wits' end. I didn't want to give up on my dream but I was beginning to feel the crushing weight of defeat looming over me.
That's when I met Mirror.
Mirror was a Super who, just like myself, had a power that depended on the abilities of other Supers and, despite having a dream of changing the world, also couldn't get a Sponsor to back him.
After getting to know each other over the course of a few months, Mirror and I came up with a way to do what we wanted. We became independent, for-hire Supers, our Sponsor who ever could afford the fees and damages that came with the line of work.
Our first year was like a dream come true. I even discovered that copying was never the true nature of my ability. The reality of it was, if a power existed, it was at my disposal. It was just easier to do the ones I had seen before. And it wasn't just one at a time either. If I wanted to, I could use any combination of them at anytime. The caveat of it being a fraction of the original ability was still there, but when you considered that some of those abilities were almost limitless in potential - a fraction of infinity is still infinity.
After the first year, it felt like the world was finally opening up to me. Like we could change the world.
And we did change it. But, when did it all go wrong?
When did I become the Number 1 Villain?
|
I was taunted all my life for it, "only 75%, might as well be a dud loser-girl" but boy oh boy were they wrong. they didnt understand what anything meant.
Theres the people who use their powers for good, and those who use them for evil. and the neutrals, us shades of grey not noticed by the papers.
one evil group, the four of clubs, as they called themselves were the strongest of us supers. the only two immortals, a boy with the power of the stars, and a mind controller a rank above all of the others. when they came to town, everyone gave up. we got our warning note last week.
still, they laughed at me
"Whats loser girl gonna do? cry 75% of her sadness away?"
"yeah, she might as well dig 75% of her own grave and save everyone the time."
over and over. every blue moon id hear one thats actually original, but that made it easier to tolerate if anything. but it was now or never.
the day came and i was the only one out. i had made a suit during the time of waiting, a simple purple shirt, black pants, and boots that went up 75% of my lower leg. no mask, and no cape.
the four of clubs came on time, like with everyone else they decimated, but it wouldnt be that simple.
"Hey, boss, someones out!" the star boy said, in an awfully childish voice. he had to be high school age.
"Oh... well why might this be?"
he turned to me and asked
"What is your name, i would feel bad taking your mind without knowing."
I stood up and got in a ready position before saying
"Its Rey, and it wont be that easy, i can do *anything* 75% of the way"
Of course, they started to laugh, another group of fools who dont get it. my goal was to kill them all. i looked over while they were still distracted, fortifying my mind, 75% of the way.
I pulled my knife and went for the two in the back, the immortals, and the biggest threats. not because of collateral damage, but because they normally cant die. normally.
The first one fell after a few good hits, and then everyone realized i was serious. i felt a twinge of pain in my head before the mindmaster swore. 75% as good as him is still 5x as strong as anyone else.
Next was the second immortal. my head still ringing i tackled him with 75% the force of the big bang. with my goal to be to kill them all, he fell too. 50% down, and the most dangerous in the long term. star boy started to flee, but i created a wall 75% the strength of the pressure of space. i couldnt have any of them leave, or else 75% changes.
the mindmaster changed strategies faster than i thought and brought in 6 people. only one of which i actually worried for. star boy noticed my looking at them and gave me a good flamethrower, luckily, im 75% fireproof in a 75% fireproof suit, so not much burned. i then felt the pain in my head again, slightly stronger, so i changed my fortifications from 75% of his to 75% of double what he has. the pain went away with that move.
getting sick of his trying, i pulled my knife from the first Ex-immortals heart and used power equal to 75% of the energy created in a year to make the blade 75% lead. most mindmelders were weak to lead, so he couldnt be much different, right?
I lunged at him with 75% the speed of light, but he teleported out of the way. a rare trait among mindmelders. not a suprise he could do it. i tried again with the same result.
he then tried to take another mental jab at me, to no effect. a laughable effort, but proving we were at a draw. but for my little sister, who he took over, i had to keep fighting.
I used 75% of the power of the strongest weaponmaster to shift my knife again, from a 75% lead knife to a 75% scale greatsword. i swung only to see i was still barely short on range. always too short.
i stopped for a moment, my breath heavy. how was i to get at that bastard? then, one of his mind slaves took a swing at me. Jerri, had the powers of conjuration. i dodged out of the way with a new idea.
i teleported with 75% accuracy to slightly to the left behind the mindmaster. luckily, i was off a bit, so i started to swing, getting him to teleport. i followed while mid shoulder barge, hitting him square in the back, knocking him over. i then swung for his neck, ready to finish it.
when i looked up, he was infront of me, and starboy was the one hit. the one i was trying to spare. i fought off tears, the kid was still evil, someone would have got to him anyway. i tried my best, but still, i couldnt fully hide my emotions. i felt my defences drop and the pain in my head come back.
the last thing i heard was the mindmaster saying
"Well, i commend you for your efforts, but you did say 75%, and i believe you have killed 75% of us, so now, my dear Rey, its my turn, though this has been fun"
and the sound of my bones cracking.
|
|
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*.
|
A hero is more than just a Super.
They're the epitome of doing what it takes to bring out the best in others.
I always wanted to be that kind of hero. A charismatic leader on the forefront of a brighter future, a greater tomorrow.
But, fate can be a fickle mistress.
I was a late bloomer. My powers didn't come in until I was 14. By then, most of the kids my age had already been training to use theirs for the past 2 or 3 years. I was so far behind everyone in my year, the others had begun to call me Null, on account of my Powers being nothing up until that moment. Of course, once my powers came in, it was too late to lose the nickname. It just stuck.
Not knowing what my powers were at first didn't make my situation any better.
The first time I used them, I made a fireball, same as my mother, and I was convinced I was a Pyromancer just like her. But, the next day, after a demonstration from my professor, I made an energy barrier, same as his. According to my professor, that apparently meant I was a Copy Cat, a Super with the ability to mimic the abilities of other Supers, the caveat being that it would always be one at a time and a reduced version of the original.
I thought it was cool at first. The ability to copy the powers of my classmates and have them at my disposal. But, then I got my second nickname - Next. Why 'Next'? Because compared to the Supers who could use their powers at 100%, I was the next-best thing.
It seemed harmless enough at first, but then someone clued me in to its other meaning. In a world of Supers striving for the position of Number 1, I would always be second place. I would never be the epitome that others strive for. Instead, I'd be the next-best thing, always overshadowed by Number 1.
Adamant to prove them wrong, I worked hard to surpass my classmates in every field; but, the nickname was the bane of my existence until the day I graduated. Graduating second in my year only made it worse.
Things didn't get any better after graduation.
As a certified Super, I was free to apply to any Hero Sponsor of my choice, but once they heard what my power was, I was rejected over and over again. 27 sponsors. All said no. Each rejection like a blow to the gut.
Their reason? Apparently, it's hard to market a hero whose power may infringe on the brand of another Hero Sponsor. Go figure.
After a year of trying, I was at my wits' end. I didn't want to give up on my dream but I was beginning to feel the crushing weight of defeat looming over me.
That's when I met Mirror.
Mirror was a Super who, just like myself, had a power that depended on the abilities of other Supers and, despite having a dream of changing the world, also couldn't get a Sponsor to back him.
After getting to know each other over the course of a few months, Mirror and I came up with a way to do what we wanted. We became independent, for-hire Supers, our Sponsor who ever could afford the fees and damages that came with the line of work.
Our first year was like a dream come true. I even discovered that copying was never the true nature of my ability. The reality of it was, if a power existed, it was at my disposal. It was just easier to do the ones I had seen before. And it wasn't just one at a time either. If I wanted to, I could use any combination of them at anytime. The caveat of it being a fraction of the original ability was still there, but when you considered that some of those abilities were almost limitless in potential - a fraction of infinity is still infinity.
After the first year, it felt like the world was finally opening up to me. Like we could change the world.
And we did change it. But, when did it all go wrong?
When did I become the Number 1 Villain?
|
Jack listened to the bubbling sounds of the glass filling up as the sound slowly rose in pitch. He got the familiar rising feeling deep within his gut and... Stop! He turned the water off, drinking from the glass 3/4ths full. He had been really thirsty, but there was still a bit of water left in the glass when he put it down.
Anyway, there was no time to waste, he had a meeting in Azerbaijan in an hour. He gathered his briefcase and his coat, it was usually chilly there this time of year. He stuck his head out the window to take one last breath of the salty air coming in off the Coral Sea, and closed his eyes. He focused on teleporting exactly 17 567 kilometers in a - he cracked open an eye to look at the bearing on his compass again - good. He focused on teleporting exactly 17 567km, keeping in mind the bearing, and the earth, yes he had to stay on the earth.
When Jake opened his eyes the air was different, a wan clouded sun peeked at him as he looked around and adjusted. He was in an open field outside the city, which was good enough for what he was trying to do. Better than appearing inside a brick wall anyway. He put on his hat and strode off towards the city, his feet moving exactly 75% of the distance he actually intended on moving them. Walking was practically second nature for him by now.
He arrived outside nondescript 3 storey house and checked his phone. Looking at the text history brought a smile to his face. It was just a series of questions and replies:
*Hey we got another asteroid for you to punch*
*K*
*Hey are you free to come down and help me with some things?*
*Sure*
And the last one:
*Hey you wanna go out for dinner sometime?*
*Tomorrow at 8?*
*Ok, looking forward to it :)*
The man put his phone away as he noticed the time. He meant to knock 4 times but only did it thrice. A small smile quirked one side of his face, as the door opened.
|
|
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*.
|
75% power? Everybody knows that a C average is fine if your standards are low. For Supers, however, low standards just won't cut it. Can run 75% the speed of sound? Have fun getting lapped by Super Sonic Man. Can jump 75% the height of a skyscraper? Get ready to use the elevator.
My power is that I'm 75% powerful at what I do. It took me too long to realize that I'm 75% powerful at *whatever* I do. Sure, villains getting punched by The Fist are not long for this world, but when I realized I can punch somebody with 75% the energy of a supernova, the Supers started to take notice. Getting somebody down 75% the way to absolute zero does not sound impressive. That is, it is unimpressive until the point the dissolved oxygen in their blood turns liquid.
The Association of Superhumans did not like the spread of my power. Afraid of what I might be capable of, they tried to convince me to control myself. For a while, I did. After all, 75% power can be extremely dangerous. If I fly at 75% light speed, the effect on the surrounding quantum field could be disastrous.
The balance between myself and the Association was maintained for some time. Going from a laughing stock to the most feared Super was not an easy transition to anybody. The balance tipped, however, when I discovered Mental Man trying to scry on me. Being 75% aware of divination attempts means I'm generally 100% aware of the attempts. The tug on my mind was mild at first, but I could not ignore the growing pull and push on my thoughts. I may only be 75% as powerful as Mental Man, but a powerful mental counterpush can take even the strongest ESPers by surprise. Mental Man is a known lapdog of the Prime Arbiter, leader of the association. Seeing my actual position in the association clearly, the next steps became clear.
My name is Quarterback. I'm not a Super, not a villain. I'm independent and working for my own interests. My plan is simple: For what I take in the world, I give 25% back. It's only fitting, after all, for a person who is a walking C average.
New York City is cleaner than it has been in a while. Cleaning 75% of graffiti on a wall makes the rest easy to remove. Taking 75% of drugs off the streets has had two benefits: Safer neighborhoods and more control over my own distribution. The propaganda from the Association has been hurtful, but my neighborhood knows better than to buy into the lies. Being 75% of a good person has its benefits. I can, of course be 75% of an evil person, but the consequences of that would be too heavy. I maintain the new balance. It's a quiet life, being the most feared superhuman in history.
|
Jack listened to the bubbling sounds of the glass filling up as the sound slowly rose in pitch. He got the familiar rising feeling deep within his gut and... Stop! He turned the water off, drinking from the glass 3/4ths full. He had been really thirsty, but there was still a bit of water left in the glass when he put it down.
Anyway, there was no time to waste, he had a meeting in Azerbaijan in an hour. He gathered his briefcase and his coat, it was usually chilly there this time of year. He stuck his head out the window to take one last breath of the salty air coming in off the Coral Sea, and closed his eyes. He focused on teleporting exactly 17 567 kilometers in a - he cracked open an eye to look at the bearing on his compass again - good. He focused on teleporting exactly 17 567km, keeping in mind the bearing, and the earth, yes he had to stay on the earth.
When Jake opened his eyes the air was different, a wan clouded sun peeked at him as he looked around and adjusted. He was in an open field outside the city, which was good enough for what he was trying to do. Better than appearing inside a brick wall anyway. He put on his hat and strode off towards the city, his feet moving exactly 75% of the distance he actually intended on moving them. Walking was practically second nature for him by now.
He arrived outside nondescript 3 storey house and checked his phone. Looking at the text history brought a smile to his face. It was just a series of questions and replies:
*Hey we got another asteroid for you to punch*
*K*
*Hey are you free to come down and help me with some things?*
*Sure*
And the last one:
*Hey you wanna go out for dinner sometime?*
*Tomorrow at 8?*
*Ok, looking forward to it :)*
The man put his phone away as he noticed the time. He meant to knock 4 times but only did it thrice. A small smile quirked one side of his face, as the door opened.
|
|
[WP] Your kids informed you that your new prescription glasses came in the mail today. You put them on and look at your kids. You're surprised to see an info window showing their general statistics and a primary specialty. Curious of your own specialty, you look into a mirror and it said "Immortal".
|
"Hey, Dad! Package for you!" Alex yelled from downstairs. I sighed. I told that child not to yell in the house, but it was pointless to be a hypocrite. I closed my laptop, and began making my way downstairs, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It is a little blurry as the glasses I wear are no longer the right prescription, but I can with effort, make out my short, neatly parted black hair and my well ironed shirt top. Below that I wore khakis with a brown belt that matched my shoes. Even though it was my day off, I believed it was important to look one's best. Your appearance is, after all, the first glimpse anyone gets of your personality.
I made my way downstairs, holding the railing carefully, I did not want to trip and fall. My young daughter is on the floor of the hallway below with scattered bits of paper around her, drawing various things. "Megan, dear, what are you drawing?"
"Princesses and castles!" She seemed excited. "See, this one is a dragon around a castle, but the dragon was a goat cursed by an evil wizard, but the goat likes that it's a dragon." She does love to ramble. She holds up another bit of paper, center stage was a little girl and there were other figures around her. "And here! This is a princess, she rules the kingdom!"
"Wouldn't her parents rule the kingdom?" I reasoned, enjoying engaging with my children's interests and hobbies. "And who are those around her?"
"Well, she's not really a princess, she's like a king! But also a little girl, so that's why she's a princess in my head. And those are her friends and assistants! They help her run the place with their special powers!"
"Alright, Megan, I would be happy to hear about their powers after dinner. Now would you kindly clean up this hallway so I may retrieve my package?"
"Yeah! Of course, Daddy!" She leapt up and gave me a big hug. Some days I feel like I am the luckiest father in the world. I don't tend to express outward emotion very much, and as such tend to give a cold, logical impression. It is helpful in the work I do, as an analyst, but less so at home with my children. I love them very much, but I have trouble expressing it. My children are not me, and I wouldn't want them to be either. They will be their own people in time. I want to help them find it, so long as they want my help.
Megan eventually detached herself from me and cleaned up her art supplies. She's such a sweet girl, her hair was a darker brown than her mother's, and but when I look into her eyes, I am reminded of my own. I hope I can do right by her. I made my way over to the foyer where Alex was rifling through the letters that had arrived, presumably looking for any college acceptance letters. Alex is a smart kid, I had no worries, but it is a stressful time for anyone. I saw a small cardboard box sitting nearby, presumably for me. I carefully peeled off the packing tape and opened it up. Inside, wrapped in plastic was a glasses case. Ah! My new prescription came in! I picked up my new glasses, and examined them. Everything seemed to be in order.
I put them on.
My vision sharpened. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something move. There was something floating above Alex. It was a rather large sized textbox of sorts. In all capitals, it read ALEX MARTINS. Below the name there were some simple statistics like age, gender, height and weight. I brushed over them for now, focusing in on the larger letters below them. "Specialty: Hand to Hand Combat \[Wrestling\]" As far as I know, Alex has not wrestled once. Does that mean that people could live their lives without knowing what they would be best at? Wait, I am assuming this information is true. I should verify the information I knew. I checked over Alex's stats and everything seemed to align with what I knew. Until I got to age. It showed Alex's age in years, and if I focused on the number it got more precise, down to the second. That is not what startled me. Below it was another number. "Time left: 5 years".
I stared at that number. My eldest child, my Alex was going to die in five years? As I looked at it, the number got more precise. "5 years, 4 months, 12 days". Only one question filled my head. "Why?" A smaller box popped up in front of me.
"Alex Martins will be pronounced dead at the scene of a vehicular accident on this night, when it appears that an inebriated driver hit another vehicle."
"Hey, Dad, why are you looking at me like that?" The boxes went transparent, and I was looking at the face of the child's who's death I just read.
"Nothing, it's nothing, just thinking about something." I scanned over the box one more time, just checking for any key details I missed. One section, with words as large as the "Specialty" box was "Titles: N/A". Understandable, Alex is young, yet to take true steps in this world and claim a title. I needed to check Megan. I quickly mentioned something about going to see how these new glasses looked, and made my way to the kitchen where Megan had continued to draw.
I saw a similar textbox pop up for her. MEGAN MARTINS. Gender, weight, height , age, here we go, "Time left: 89 years" I let out a sigh of relief she was going to outlive me. I scanned down to her Specialty, which was "Artistry \[Ink and Quill\]". Huh, how specific. I'll get her a set of those, see if she takes to it. I did not expect to see anything in the title slot by N/A but I checked anyway. "Titles: Oracle". What? My youngest child was an Oracle? What does that mean? I am going to shelve this for now. There was one more thing I need to check.
I said Megan was going to outlive me, that's nearly certain, but I would like to know how much time I have left with my children. I hope I live longer than five years. I do not want Megan to be alone in this world after Alex dies, but as I found out, not everyone lives the span of their natural lives. I went upstairs and looked into the mirror. There, was a mirror image of my textbox. Without too much difficulty, I read it. "James Martins. Gender: Male. Height: 5' 8" Weight: 170 lbs. Age: 43. Time left: ". It's blank? What does that mean? I scrolled down to my specialty. "Immortal". I... cannot die? Why not? Isn't that a basic function of a human? Why can't I die? I scrolled more to Titles. That might help clear things up.
I was wrong. It gave more answers than questions. There weren't one, but two titles there. "All-Seeing Eye" and "Aid to the King of the World". The All-Seeing Eye might be referencing the ability granted to me by these glasses, but the other part? Aid to the King of the World? Who was the King and why am I to aid them? I needed a breath of fresh air. I told Alex I was going for a walk and to start preparing pasta for dinner. I walked to the nearby park and sat on a bench, just taking in information. Occasionally when someone would walk by I gleaned some information on their lives.
"I was wondering when you'd get here." There was a little girl sitting beside me. I thought I was alone on this bench. I opened her textbox. The name section was blank. So was gender. Height and weight seemed to be changing rapidly from outlandish numbers. Age was blank, and so was "Time left". Their specialty was "Ageless". I had already guessed their title by this time. But I scrolled down to confirm it.
"You are the King of the World." I was not asking.
"You are my Eye." Nor was the girl.
"What do we need to do?" Whatever this girl was, they could be incredibly powerful. I did not intend to mess around.
"We need to gather the others. It should be easy, with your ability."
"So long as we have a place to start, yes." I barely knew how to use this power, but I needed to act composed. They were just another customer.
"Then? After we have the Aids?"
"We need to kill the Oracle. New eras always bring another Oracle. Those Fateweavers are the only ones who could change our dynasty."
"Understood." It was at that moment I knew I had to kill the King. They might be ageless, but they aren't immortal. Which means they can die like anyone but me. I am not letting anyone lay a hand on her. Alex may be taken away from me too soon, but Megan has her own life to live, and she will be able to live it. I will make sure of it. No matter who this "King" is. I cannot act immediately. I need to bide my time, build trust, learn the extent of their abilities before I strike, but once I do, I will take them down before they can lay a finger on Megan.
\---
Hi! I'm Lemniscate! This is the first time I'm writing here, I hope you like it. It turned out a lot longer than I expected, really. I need to get some sleep now, but let me know what you think!
|
(I don't write a lot plz be nice constructive criticism is very welcome) I was sitting in my house minding my own business when one of my two children ran into the house with a small rectangular package. I ask him what's in it and he said he doesn't have a fucking clue so I tell him to watch his mouth and snatch the package from him. "It must be my new glasses" I thought to myself, I had to order new ones after some little shit thought it would be funny to throw a rock at me. That rock ended up hitting me in the nose snapping my frames in half and the lenses shattered when they got the ground.
I take out a knife and cut the tape on the box and inside is a different box that has glasses on it and in a word bubble "see the truth". So I take out the glasses and put them on. "I can finally see clearly" I had been waiting for about a month for these things and they were finally here. I look at the clock(from a distance now because I can see again) above the clock are the words tells the time and I think it's weird but its getting pretty late so get go to tell the children to come inside.
When I open the door and see the children there are words above their heads as well. One of them says whiny little bitch and the other says future Nobel prize winner "that's pretty seems accurate" I say to myself. I tell the kids get inside because it late and one of them says "that they don't feel like going inside" while the other says "as you wish father". Thinking about how accurate the word seem to be so far I take out my phone and turn on the front facing camera and the words say immortal.
I tell the kids "I have some errands to run" and that "I'll be back in about an hour". As I leave I can see the puzzled look on both of their faces but I don't care because I'm immortal now and want to do some cool shit. So I drive to the tallest building in town which happened to be some fancy hotel. When I get there I focus on the guy at the and above his head it says opens doors. I enter the building and order a room on the top floor.
When I get to my room I head for the window and open it. I feel that nice cool winter air on my skin as I leap through it. The fall is taking awhile so I take out my phone but before I can turn it on I see the word immortal above. Before I can even say "oh fuck" I spatter on the pavement the only thing left intact is my phone. Ty for reading i don't usually write but I liked the prompt.
|
|
[WP] Your kids informed you that your new prescription glasses came in the mail today. You put them on and look at your kids. You're surprised to see an info window showing their general statistics and a primary specialty. Curious of your own specialty, you look into a mirror and it said "Immortal".
|
“Hey, your glasses are here!” Dieter yells.
“Dieter, be CAREFUL!” Calls Trinity.
The sound of a light package hitting the ground reverberates through the hall. I pinch the bridge of my nose, set my tablet down on my bed, and walk out to the site of the commotion.
“Dieter, pick the package up. Trinity, leave your brother alone.”
I take the box from Dieter’s hands, and he and Trinity step aside. Flipping open my pocket knife, I cut a neat incision down the seam of the packing tape, and the flaps of the box spring open. Inside rests a shiny carbon fiber glasses case, which I retrieve from its bed of packing peanuts and open with a *snap*. Off come my old, bulky framed glasses, which are set on the countertop beside me. On slide my new wire frames, a sleek gunmetal gray that blend seamlessly into the lenses themselves.
I open my eyes, and to my shock, a glowing, dynamic graphic pops up in front of my son. It read,
*Dieter Drogen*
*M*
*20990523*
*22000715*
*Experiencing unusual spike in serotonin*
*Appears captivated by object of interest*
I blink and shake my head. The glasses were giving me information on my own child? That can’t be right. This time I focus on Trinity.
*Trinity Drogen*
*F*
*20990304*
*22061210*
*Appears perplexed by situation at hand*
Wait. The first number was their birthday. So what was the second?
Is that...their death day?
Holy shit.
I run to the mirror and look at myself.
*Hiawatha Drogen*
*I*
*20690101*
*IMMORTAL*
*Indecipherable reaction*
It can’t be. I throw off the glasses and bury my face in my hands.
“What’s wrong?” Dieter asks.
“I think they know.” Trinity replies.
More bad content at r/PeriodicalontheTable
|
"What are you doing?!" Marty shouted, sprinting over to the kitchen counter to grab the can of Lysol. He shook it violently, uncapped it, and began to spray the cardboard box in Annie's hands as if he was trying to give it a shower. "You know not to touch anything without disinfecting it!"
"Seriously, Dad," Annie sighed, dropping the box on the table with a thud, "you need to chill out. The coronavirus isn't as big of a deal anymore." She grabbed the knife from the silverware drawer and sliced through the tape. After folding back the flaps, she reached inside and pulled out a black case. "I think these are your new glasses."
Marty sprayed the case and the glasses as well. His daughter rolled her eyes and sat down near her brother, attempting to dry herself off.
After cleaning the lenses of his new glasses with his shirt, he sat down at the family's computer, logged in, and started googling, just like he has been doing every day for two months. "Kids, can you believe it? There's still new cases, and people are going to the store without any protection. Idiots."
When his children didn't respond, he turned to them, and they continued to scroll through their phones. But something popped up in his vision. He thought he was seeing something at first, but when he focused on Annie, a black box appeared above her. He pulled the glasses down onto the bridge of his nose, and the box disappeared. After sliding the glasses back on, it reappeared. He focused on the box, and small white words read: "Weakness: Listening to authority, Strength: Social media."
*"*What the-" Marty muttered, astounded. He did not understand, but he couldn't argue against its accuracy. He turned to his son, and sure enough, another block box appeared over his head. This time, it read: "Weakness: Tequila, Strength: Perfectly rapping Busta Rhymes' verse in Look At Me Now".
His heart beating fast, he logged out of the computer. This was the first time during all of quarantine that something successfully interrupted Marty's diligent research. He sped to the bathroom like his IBS was starting to act up, but that only happened after Mexican. This was different.
Marty flipped on the light, illuminating the small bathroom. He placed his palms on the granite counter and peered into the mirror. Sure enough, a black box appeared over his head too. The small white words said: "Weakness: Easily influenced, Strength: Immortal."
*Immortal?*
This couldn't be right. It didn't make sense. But the glasses were right about his kids, so it had to be right about him, too. He could live forever.
Marty hustled back to the kitchen. He scooped up his keys, started his car, and left the house for the first time since March.
He threw the car into park once he got to the grocery store, and he walked in without a mask, grinning from ear to ear.
|
|
[WP] A person has been isekai'd into their favorite MMORPG, which they've sunk thousands of hours into, only to find they aren't their incredibly overpowered character, they're being saved by their character.
|
Some things change so fast, you can hardly catch your breath. One moment, I was logging into my favorite video game, Last Fantasy, and the next I was falling through the sky. I felt the rush of hair, and even heard birds, so I knew I couldn't possibly be dreaming, right?
I fell into a group of trees, and grunted as they broke my fall, and searing pain ran through my body. Nope. Not a dream.
Slowly, and begrudgingly, I rubbed my butt and stood up, trying to get my bearings.
"Where am I?" I asked no one in particular. I was musing on how I didn't go splat when a branch cracked behind me. I turned around, and caught sight of the freakiest thing I've seen. It was a large red and blue bird, with a literal axe for a break. "Well, hello little guy, I'm not gunna hurt you, so please don't hurt me..." I said, raising my hands. Under my foot, I felt a little bump, and looked to see that I had somehow fallen onto the edge of a nest. "oh no. Is this your nest? Easy big birdie"
Just when I thought the bird would attack, a flash of light blinded me. I squeaked, and ducked, closing my eyes.
"Are you hurt, my lady?" I heard someone ask. I opened my eyes and looked up, before my jaw dropped. Before my eyes stood my character, that I had spent hours crafting in Last Fantasy! "My lady?" He asked. I stood up and reached out, patting his sculpted chin.
"Mahanon?" I asked softly.
"That is my name. Do we know each other?" He asked, all the while letting me tug and fondle his face, until I got to his ears which I barely touched before he pulled my hands away. "I don't mean to insult, but an Elf's ears are very sensitive."
"Oh! I'm sorry!" I said, my face turning bright red. I examined him further, noticing he even had the dire Wolf's cloak, and the level 100 armor I spent nearly 20 bucks on. "uhm. Where am I?" I asked.
"You're in the forest of Misery. Are you sure you are unharmed my lady?" He asked after a moment.
"I can't remember anything." I lied to him. His eyebrows raised before he nodded to himself.
"Amnesia. You must have fallen a long way. You were in the sky, and then fell to the ground." He responded. "Come with me to the adventurers guild, someone might know you there."
"Sure, yeah." I said, following behind him. I expected him to let me follow but instead, he blew into a whistle. Shortly after, a griffon flew down. "Floofers!" I exclaimed excitedly, before covering my mouth. Mahanon's eyebrows raised, but he smiled at me, and picked me up, and set me on Floofers' saddle, before hopping up behind me. With a tug of his reins, we were off, into the sky!
Later that night, I was resting at Mahanon's house, the same one I had bought in game! I compared my notes, and made some observations.
1. I was in Last Fantasy, though they called it Aortia.
2. Mahanon operated separately from me, it was as if he was his own person.
3. Something wasn't right about that boy.
It was short glimpses that I caught when he thought I wasn't looking, but he seemed to be ridiculously happy I was there. I waited until the next day, when he had left to go adventuring or whatever they called it, and wandered his decently sized house. If I recalled correctly, it cost 40 million Gold to get the house and the land. However something was different. There was a door that hadn't been there before. And it was locked. Good thing I always kept a bobby pin in my hair. I fondled around, but I didn't feel anything. "Damn it, way to go, Amy you were going game with bed head."
Three days later, and three attempts later, I was at a loss when Mahanon gifted me exactly what I needed. Okay, so it was a hair pin set. But I could work with those. He seemed set on keeping me happy, though I couldn't figure out why. I waited for him to leave, and got to work, picking the lock. I learned how to do so, because I thought it would be great for picking up chicks, since it's hard enough being a bisexual woman in these trying times. After a moment, the lock clicked and I was in. I opened the door excitedly. "What are you hiding Mahanon!" I said, looking into the room. It was pitch black, so I left and came back with a lantern and shined it into the room. I stared, wide eyed at the sight before me. Painting after painting after painting of... Me. Before I had dyed my hair blue, I had it a multitude of other colors too, and he seemed to have them all.
"So you've seen it." Mahanon said behind me.
"What is it?" I asked him, surprised.
"I am sure you recognize yourself." He said.
"Well yeah but. Why am I here?" I asked.
"I don't know when it started, but I began to have dreams. Every night about you. Those dreams began to sink into reality, and it was almost like you were whispering in my ear, telling me what I should do. You saved my life." He said. "Since then, I searched for spells, incantations, anything I could find that would let me speak to you, see you as more than a dream. A goddess answered me. And there you were." He answered.
"Hold up. You kidnapped me from my world? Why?" I asked.
"Because I love you." He said, his eyes taking on a more demented look, pupils shrinking. He smiled at me, and slowly advanced. "Were perfect for each other, just think about it. You didn't like your old life, and now I'm here. I even saved you from the Axe beak. You owe your life to me."
I backed away, and stared at him incredulously. "Excuse me? You don't know me!" I said.
"But I do, Amy. I know you so well. You've been inside of me, our hearts as one." He said. He reached out, trying to touch me.
"Hell. No. Creep!" I exclaimed and dashed by him, before running down the stairs. "send me back!" I said.
"You can't be sent back! It's a one way trip. You're trapped here, forever" he said with a shout as he followed me.
"No way." I said, pushing open the front door.
I couldn't be trapped here with that psycho forever!
|
I was in my favourite MMO! This was the best, I already had a sword and shield and went out on a quest into the high mountains to try and grind up my levels.
I found the first troll there relatively easy, I got a bettering in the face but it was nothing I couldn’t handle! And so I marched on, I knew every encounter ahead, the ogre, the bandits, and the vampire. The only one I was worried about was the vampire really, I didn’t like the idea of a blood hungry monster.
I came upon the troll in his cave, but I doubled back around to the secret entrance and got the drop on the big ugly thing. It made me shiver at the horrid stench, I never knew that they smelled THAT bad. But I cut his neck open and stabbed him in the legs, forcing him down and to die.
I continued on with my stomach tightening to the bad it room. I went quickly to the weakest one that I knew would spawn and killed him with a sword to the stomach. I threw my sword about trying to slash at them. My sword caught on a big guys shield, he slammed me in the stomach with his knee and then cracked my back with his warhammer.
I reeled and let out a scream as he raised his hammer again. But his face was suddenly consumed in a wreath of flame. He screamed suddenly as his entire body became a red mass that fell back. A sword slashed a close ones head off.
The shining silver pillar before me, I knew, my orc paladin character! I took a long deep breath and came to my feet with a slight grin coming to my face
|
|
[WP] Artemis is sick and tired of the other Olympians manipulating their myths so they seem more awesome than they are. She decides to expose their true colors and retells legends as they originally were, before the Gods reshaped their narratives.
|
"The Gods are pompous narcissists, reshaping and twisting their underwhelming beginnings for the masses. It disgusts me. Therefore I will draw back the wool that has been pulled over the eyes of mankind"
That was the message that I was given one fateful afternoon. Written on old parchment, with silvery letters and a faint glow. Most strangely, it included an email address at the bottom.
[email protected]
Surely this was an elaborate prank. Nevertheless, she had caught my attention. So I sent her an email. We scheduled a meeting and I prepared my papers. Everything I had on Greek Myths, which was admittedly a lot.
She appeared in my office the next day, and I do mean appeared. I ducked to get a pen I dropped and when I sat back up, there she was.
Her long dark hair was tied back in an elaborate plait. She wore fitted pants and a sleeveless shirt, but she looked most comfortable in her own skin. She looked like she came from the gym, but gave no hint of exhaustion with no hair out of place. Her olive skin gave off a faint silvery glow, the same as he letter had earlier.
"I am Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, the Moon and of Archery. And I am here to tell you a story. Quite a few actually."
My pursuit of knowledge kept me from asking her all the questions I wanted. She was a Goddess, and she wanted to talk to me.
"Let's get the important stuff out of the way. Yes I'm really Artemis, yes the Gods are real, and they're all a bunch of narcissists.
Lets start with a common story. The origin of Zeus. No, Cronos did not eat Zeus's siblings. He locked them in a mountain prison to avoid the indigestion. Zeus was never passed off as a rock, he was passed off as a stillborn by Rhea and raised by nymphs. Zeus broke the lock on the cage and together the grown Olympians fought the Titans and yadda yadda yadda."
I was astonished at how casually she spoke. I expected a Goddess to be more intimidating, or at least care. He letter made it seem like this was something she was passionate about.
"Another common one is Hades alleged abduction of Persephone. You see, he never really abducted her at all. She just kinda wandered into the Underworld and decided she liked it there. Hades liked having her there, so he said she could stay. Demeter was furious. She withered crops with the force of her fury. She demanded that Zeus force her daughter to return to her. Persephone refused, because she liked Hades and the Underworld. Cerberus LOVED her. It was not actually Zeus, but Persephone herself that proposed the compromise. She would spend half her time with her mother, and half the time in the Underworld with her new boyfriend."
Truth is so much less dramatic than fiction. I could see why the Gods would reshape their stories.
"Oh, here's a great one about my brother. Daphne was his girlfriend, not a stranger. They were happily in love, then Apollo got into a fight with Eros. Eros used his power to make Apollo fall even more in love with Daphne while he made Daphne hate Apollo. Apollos attempts to break the bewitchment Eros had cast were fruitless, while Daphne was outraged that he wouldn't leave her alone. Daphne turned to her father, who DID turn Daphne into a laurel, but he gave her the ability to do it on command. Apollo was heartbroken and vowed revenge on Eros. He has terrible luck in relationships because he still pines after Daphne, his one and only love."
With that last harrowing retelling, she rose from her chair. I expected her to say something else, a goodbye. But I blinked and she was gone. All that I had left was her letter and the notes I had taken of our conversation. I didn't know what she wanted me to do with this new information, but I was going to find out.
|
apologies for any bad formatting, i'm on mobile, also i went *kind of* off script
*And on that night Zeus and Alcmene conceived the greatest hero-*
"Who? Heracles? that kid was just a good soldier, hardly worth calling a hero." Artemis spat, frankly tired of having to manually correct all these historians. "For the last time, Demigods are *not* incredibly powerful or even special in any way, Hades, half of the population of greece are descendants of gods!"
"B-but, surely you deities at least have some power!" The distressed historian had thought that this would bring answers to so many questions, and while true, this is certainly not even close to what he expected.
"Oh sure, compared to you mere humans we are quite impressive, but really our biggest advantage is just immortality and, admittedly well done, lying." At this point Artemis just walked away, tired of dealing with all the lies her family had spread.
"I really hate Apollo and Dad sometimes"
|
|
[WP] In a world where everyone can use magic, you are feared because you are the only one who can’t.
|
I grew up in a world of magic. From kindergarten on, I watched with wonder as my peers levitated their lunches and summoned fire to smoke in the bathrooms at school, and slowly despised myself when I realized I could do none of those things.
I went to several doctors, and they diagnosed me with an unfortunate lack of magic. A genetic defect, they said. Not harmful, but I would have to work three times as hard for everything in my life.
I was depressed, and loathed myself. I was the object of relentless ridicule for my whole life. My parents acted like I didn’t exist: everyone knew my sister was the favorite because she had magic. But at age 18, I slowly came to the realization that I had power too. I just had to go about it differently.
I started to work out. Just weights, then running, swimming, intensive workouts for hours every week. I was the fittest person I knew, because everyone I knew depended on their magic to do everything. They never learned how to punch someone in the face.
I joined the army. When the magic users joked around and got on my nerves, I wasn’t hesitant to rearrange their faces. Soon, they learned not to mess with me. Turns out, it takes surprisingly little to incapacitate someone who’s never worked out in their life.
I rose through the ranks quickly. The magic users protected me as I took out hundreds of opposing soldiers just with my fists and feet. Nobody had seen anyone like me for hundreds of years. Even after I retired, I was more respected and decorated than any magical officer. I inspired people to learn the value of hard work.
I changed my own life, just by finding power where it was thought I had none.
|
I sit in the park and watch people go by. It’s about all I do these days. I see children on the other side of the field, playing some game where they levitate a ball. I never learned it because I’m not a normal person. Everyone in the whole world has these abilities I don’t possess, to me they are magical, but to everyone else I’m some unnatural freak.
When I was a child it took some years for those around me to realize I was different. My teachers thought I was shy, or a slow learner. Slowly the realization dawned on everyone that I wasn’t the same. The idea that someone didn’t have abilities became this viral… scare. It was thought I was somehow contagious, that not only did I not have abilities, but I could take others away by proximity alone.
I was quickly shunned from society. No longer could I attend school or play with other kids. Even my own parents kept their distance, eventually kicking me out of the house altogether. I was an outcast, an outsider in a society that saw me as some kind of freak.
I tried to escape; I thought I could reach some part of the world where no one knew who I was. Somewhere I could be accepted, but no matter how far I traveled, no matter where I went, word of my existence had beaten me there. Everyone knew of me, and the whole world shunned me just the same. I spent years hoping, praying I would find one place I could live in peace, where I could have a conversation with another human being without being cast back by a magical force. I longed for any kind of interaction that wasn’t disdain, or disgust.
I’ve lost that hope. Instead I’ve resigned myself to my fate. I sit and watch the world turn around me. I see these magical people going about their busy lives, teleporting here, casting some spell over there. Sometimes I’ll sit in a crowded park like this just to feel close to someone, to anyone, but the irony is that when I do, I feel more distant than ever.
|
|
Obligatory: This is not mine! I fell in love with it years ago when I found it on Pinterest and saved it in a folder.
|
[WP] You tossed your rent bill across the room in frustration and it went under your bed. A minute later, a grotesque claw pushes the bill back out with a wad of cash.
|
Alex walked into his cramped apartment and immediately stepped on a stack of envelopes. Grumbling under his breath and loosening his tie he reached down and snatched them up. Bill, bill, and oh another bill. He flung them behind himself but one took an odd trajectory and twisted in midair, drifting aimlessly through the air before landing on his couch.
​
He eyed the letter with disdain as he kicked his shoes back towards the door and began to unbutton his shirt. He recognized the blue envelope. It was from Ralf, his landlord. No doubt demanding rent, which was only two months late. Alex had run into some hardships lately, but did Ralf care? No! It was all “Pay me my rent! This isn’t a charity shelter!” or “I’ll evict you and call the cops!” Where was the compassion? The humanity?
​
The cherry on this sad sundae? He’d been single for over three years now. Sure he’d gotten lucky, hit it off with some partners, and even brought a few back for the night but each one, without exception, was gone by morning. It didn’t matter if it was a fling or something about to blossom into something more. When he was younger, Alex wouldn’t have minded this outcome much at all, but he was getting close to thirty-five now. Despite himself, he more and more desired something stable. A relationship where he could rely on someone. A person he could vent to, laugh with, and get to know on a deeper level than superficial flirting.
​
He sighed, his shirt half undone, and picked up the letter. He moved towards his bedroom as he tore it open. As expected, it was from Ralf and oh boy was he in a good mood. The first subtle hint was the big red stamp declaring “OVERDUE”. It looked like Ralf got a bit too happy with it as the message was stamped in multiple spots. Ralf also had a few choice words for him. The obscenities and analogies he came up with were surprisingly funny, or at least they would be, if they weren’t aimed at him.
​
As his eyes danced over the last few sentences, ending with “... good for nothing loser and soon to be evicted hobo!” Alex scoffed and rolled his eyes, tossing the letter underneath his bed where he wouldn’t have to see it. He didn’t respond well to threats. And who did Ralf think he was anyways? Alex had paid his rent on time for years, and now, for the first time, he’d fallen a bit behind and Ralf was getting all up in his ass over it? Maybe he should come up with some creative insults of his own and shove that letter in Ralf’s face. Yeah, that’d show him! Mess with Alex Hawthorne and get the-
​
There was a skidding sound, leather against wood.
​
Alex’s eyes narrowed. He stepped around his bed towards the other side where the sound came from. Sitting there on the floor, as innocuous as a rose in a garden, was a deep red purse. Alex didn’t own any purses.
​
He squinted at the sight, trying to make sense of it, when the sound rang out again. Only this time, Alex saw a large hand, thick with stringy fur and sharp claws at the end, shove another purse out. The second one was gray in color and it knocked the first one over, spilling out wads of cash.
​
Alex stood in stunned silence. How long did he stand there? A minute? Five? An hour or more? He couldn’t tell when he finally snapped out of the trance and hopped onto his bed, standing on the edge. He was hallucinating. He was just super stressed out and now his mind was telling him to relax. Or else it would go on strike and drive him crazy.
​
He swallowed a lump in his throat. The curtains over the window on the back wall to his left was slightly parted, and it let in a stream of sunlight. It illuminated the cash and the red purse perfectly. There they were, covered in a divine glow, as if a gift from the heavens itself. Except he’d seen what had delivered this particular present.
​
*Ok Alex. Just close your eyes. Touch your thumb to your fingertips and count to ten each time. Deep breaths now, deep breaths. In. Out. In. Ou-*
​
“Are you not going to take the offering?” A deep voice grumbled from beneath his bed.
​
Alex froze. Now he was hearing things, great. Maybe the best thing was to play along and find a fault in this illusion? Or maybe it was a dream. *Focus Alex, focus!*, he thought shaking his head.
​
“Who’s there?” he asked, sounding more like a scared child than a man in his mid-thirties.
​
“I have many names. But you may refer to me as Boogie. I have taken up residence beneath your bed and have done so for quite some time.” the voice replied.
​
*God, my imagination was never this good when I was a kid.* Alex thought before clearing his throat. “Well, Boogie, why did you shove out a pair of purses filled with money?”
​
*Maybe it was a Freudian thing.* Alex mused. Did the purses represent his mother and the money the existential dread of accruing wealth in a capitalistic society?
​
“You shoved this note underneath of someone demanding payment from you. I assumed you made a request for currency. Such a request is of no consequence. I have no need for human currency. And I have accumulated quite a bit over the past few years.”
​
“Uh huh and you’ve been living- wait you collected that money? From where? Do you have a job?” Alex asked.
​
“No. At least not the sort you depart for every morning.”
​
“Then where did you get all that cash?”
​
“As I said, I collected it.”
​
“From where?”
​
“From the offerings.”
​
“The offerings?”
​
“The woman you left on the bed. They had many trinkets and other belongings that were of no use to me. Yet I appreciated your assistance, and so I removed as much of their presence as I could to leave your dwelling tidy.”
​
Alex’s mouth hung open. There was silence for a minute.
​
“What?!”
|
"Damn it! How am I supposed to pay $500 in two weeks!?" Grady groaned at the air and slammed his rent bill under his bed. The slightly dirty mattress had been there for years, a little smaller than what his feet could handle, so they just hung out off the edge.
The apartment was run down and the lord was a bitch, but then again, Grady couldn't really complain. Kicked out by his parents, he had nowhere else to be. He couldn't get a job, he looked like a bum at 23 years of age, he hated his college and yet he still somehow was alive.
The boy sighed and sat down on the stiff mattress that barely hung above a few boards as support. The bill slid underneath it, into the void where one thousand lonely and brotherless socks were. He buried his face into his hands in frustration, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment. He felt like a coward for not being manly like he should've been. For not growing up the way he wanted to.
Something slithered up his bare leg and tickled the back of his knee.
Grady thought it was a bug and he reached down to scratch. "Aahh!" He jumped. A thick and gross hand with giant claws and a gooey texture was seen at his ankle. The bill had slipped back out, along with a stack of 20 dollar bills. The boy wasn't scared, he was more confused than anything. Grady picked up the dollar bills and the envelope itself, then got down on his knees and peeked under the bed.
"Hey," he spoke quietly, "I don't know who or what you are, but you..." Grady looked at the bill and thought for a moment. Maybe this is a good thing. Who or whatever this thing was, perhaps it thought IT had to pay the bill for its own rent, not his. "Hey, did you...pay my rent for me?" He asked the strange void under his bed. The clawed, gooey hand shot at his mouth and covered it. His cries of protest were muffled. The scent of the strange creature was rather sweet and Grady felt himself wanting to lick it.
*"Quiet, Master. I have fulfilled your request for payment."* A hissing male voice came from the void. Grady couldn't keep his eyes off of the darkness. He felt entranced by it. *"Are you going to kick me out?"* The strange thing asked.
"No, no, not at all..." Grady swallowed, his muffled mouth becoming drenched in the thick slime. He couldn't keep it in any longer. "But maybe you don't have to pay with money anymore..." He inched closer into the darkness, giving in to his instincts. The sweet aroma of the void was captivating him. *"Oh my..."* Whatever was in that darkness, it seemed to have embraced him and his lust. Who knows how long he was under the bed for?
Whatever the case, the bitch of a landlord came into the room to find the stack of 20s beside the bill. He thought Grady had gone out as he usually did, and never minded his privacy. Once the man had shut the door, two hands, a human and a grotesque clawed one, were seen clasped together.
The beast didn't have to pay rent with money anymore, Grady told it, for a good time once a week was more than enough.
(Well I didn't expect it to go into a horny story but I think it's an interesting twist.)
|
Obligatory: This is not mine! I fell in love with it years ago when I found it on Pinterest and saved it in a folder.
|
[WP] You tossed your rent bill across the room in frustration and it went under your bed. A minute later, a grotesque claw pushes the bill back out with a wad of cash.
|
Alex walked into his cramped apartment and immediately stepped on a stack of envelopes. Grumbling under his breath and loosening his tie he reached down and snatched them up. Bill, bill, and oh another bill. He flung them behind himself but one took an odd trajectory and twisted in midair, drifting aimlessly through the air before landing on his couch.
​
He eyed the letter with disdain as he kicked his shoes back towards the door and began to unbutton his shirt. He recognized the blue envelope. It was from Ralf, his landlord. No doubt demanding rent, which was only two months late. Alex had run into some hardships lately, but did Ralf care? No! It was all “Pay me my rent! This isn’t a charity shelter!” or “I’ll evict you and call the cops!” Where was the compassion? The humanity?
​
The cherry on this sad sundae? He’d been single for over three years now. Sure he’d gotten lucky, hit it off with some partners, and even brought a few back for the night but each one, without exception, was gone by morning. It didn’t matter if it was a fling or something about to blossom into something more. When he was younger, Alex wouldn’t have minded this outcome much at all, but he was getting close to thirty-five now. Despite himself, he more and more desired something stable. A relationship where he could rely on someone. A person he could vent to, laugh with, and get to know on a deeper level than superficial flirting.
​
He sighed, his shirt half undone, and picked up the letter. He moved towards his bedroom as he tore it open. As expected, it was from Ralf and oh boy was he in a good mood. The first subtle hint was the big red stamp declaring “OVERDUE”. It looked like Ralf got a bit too happy with it as the message was stamped in multiple spots. Ralf also had a few choice words for him. The obscenities and analogies he came up with were surprisingly funny, or at least they would be, if they weren’t aimed at him.
​
As his eyes danced over the last few sentences, ending with “... good for nothing loser and soon to be evicted hobo!” Alex scoffed and rolled his eyes, tossing the letter underneath his bed where he wouldn’t have to see it. He didn’t respond well to threats. And who did Ralf think he was anyways? Alex had paid his rent on time for years, and now, for the first time, he’d fallen a bit behind and Ralf was getting all up in his ass over it? Maybe he should come up with some creative insults of his own and shove that letter in Ralf’s face. Yeah, that’d show him! Mess with Alex Hawthorne and get the-
​
There was a skidding sound, leather against wood.
​
Alex’s eyes narrowed. He stepped around his bed towards the other side where the sound came from. Sitting there on the floor, as innocuous as a rose in a garden, was a deep red purse. Alex didn’t own any purses.
​
He squinted at the sight, trying to make sense of it, when the sound rang out again. Only this time, Alex saw a large hand, thick with stringy fur and sharp claws at the end, shove another purse out. The second one was gray in color and it knocked the first one over, spilling out wads of cash.
​
Alex stood in stunned silence. How long did he stand there? A minute? Five? An hour or more? He couldn’t tell when he finally snapped out of the trance and hopped onto his bed, standing on the edge. He was hallucinating. He was just super stressed out and now his mind was telling him to relax. Or else it would go on strike and drive him crazy.
​
He swallowed a lump in his throat. The curtains over the window on the back wall to his left was slightly parted, and it let in a stream of sunlight. It illuminated the cash and the red purse perfectly. There they were, covered in a divine glow, as if a gift from the heavens itself. Except he’d seen what had delivered this particular present.
​
*Ok Alex. Just close your eyes. Touch your thumb to your fingertips and count to ten each time. Deep breaths now, deep breaths. In. Out. In. Ou-*
​
“Are you not going to take the offering?” A deep voice grumbled from beneath his bed.
​
Alex froze. Now he was hearing things, great. Maybe the best thing was to play along and find a fault in this illusion? Or maybe it was a dream. *Focus Alex, focus!*, he thought shaking his head.
​
“Who’s there?” he asked, sounding more like a scared child than a man in his mid-thirties.
​
“I have many names. But you may refer to me as Boogie. I have taken up residence beneath your bed and have done so for quite some time.” the voice replied.
​
*God, my imagination was never this good when I was a kid.* Alex thought before clearing his throat. “Well, Boogie, why did you shove out a pair of purses filled with money?”
​
*Maybe it was a Freudian thing.* Alex mused. Did the purses represent his mother and the money the existential dread of accruing wealth in a capitalistic society?
​
“You shoved this note underneath of someone demanding payment from you. I assumed you made a request for currency. Such a request is of no consequence. I have no need for human currency. And I have accumulated quite a bit over the past few years.”
​
“Uh huh and you’ve been living- wait you collected that money? From where? Do you have a job?” Alex asked.
​
“No. At least not the sort you depart for every morning.”
​
“Then where did you get all that cash?”
​
“As I said, I collected it.”
​
“From where?”
​
“From the offerings.”
​
“The offerings?”
​
“The woman you left on the bed. They had many trinkets and other belongings that were of no use to me. Yet I appreciated your assistance, and so I removed as much of their presence as I could to leave your dwelling tidy.”
​
Alex’s mouth hung open. There was silence for a minute.
​
“What?!”
|
I picked up the overdue bill on my table and threw it across the room.
“Enough worrying for today, let’s get to the fun part” I said to myself. As I crouched down to my mini fridge to grab a beer I heard a growl and whipped around. Then I saw it. A green scaly hand snaked it’s way out from under my bed. Then retreaded leaving the overdue bill with a wad of cash on it. I was wary but excited as I scrambled to the pile of precious money. I counted it out and looked at the bill. It would be enough to cover rent, utilities and food for the month. Then I noticed one last thing. A small slip of paper with words scrawled on it in messy handwriting. I picked it up to read it.
Hey man I saw the pile of overdue bills and felt bad. Hope this helps.
-Your neighbor Ted
I was incredulous as I peeked back under the bed
“Ted?” I whispered
“Sup dog” growled a deep and scratchy voice.
“D-Did you leave this money and note?” I asked
“Yeah, I though you might need it” the voice replied. I grabbed my phone to see what the hell this thing was. As I went to turn on the flashlight I heard Ted speak again
“Don’t” was all he said.
“Don’t turn on my flashlight?” I questioned
“We don’t like light” he responded
“Who’s we?” I asked
“Our kind”
“Like your species?”
“No, monsters”
“What the hell is going on man” I asked holding my head
“Listen dude chill the fuck out. I figured if I’m gonna live here i might as well pay rent” Ted smilied
“How’d you get money” I questioned
“Don’t worry about it” Ted cackled
And that’s how I got my first roommate. A green, 900 lb, scaly, light sensitive roommate.
u/jimmy3ballsthethird
|
Obligatory: This is not mine! I fell in love with it years ago when I found it on Pinterest and saved it in a folder.
|
[WP] You tossed your rent bill across the room in frustration and it went under your bed. A minute later, a grotesque claw pushes the bill back out with a wad of cash.
|
I froze when I saw *it* toss cash in my direction.
​
My first thought was to run, but then I realized that if it wanted to torture, kill, or do anything to me, it had a lot of time while I spent the last 3 years for college.
After the initial freeze, I sputtered a sincere thanks. As worried as I was then about whatever lived under my bed, money was pretty hard to get, especially with the whole virus thing. Nervous, I slept in the kitchen that night. While I was felt that it wouldn't hurt me, I didn't like the idea of something possible watching me sleep or doing something while I was vulnerable.
The next couple of days were busy, but thankfully plain. Online classes, jobs, all that jazz. Yeah I didn't tell anyone about it, but if it just sat there under my bed for over 3 years, why bother? The world was crazy as it was, reporting some monster wouldn't help anyone.
Then I finally got a relatively free day. That day I went in with some food, a couple cans of soda and a kitchen knife tucked in my belt behind me.
"Hey buddy. Still there?", I nervously asked.
Nothing.
I put a plastic plate of some microwave lasagna near the foot of the bed and got back to my door. After some waiting, the hand quickly took it. I put another thing of food a bit farther from the bed, far that it'd need to leave the bed. Looking back, it was probably a bad idea, but my curiosity got the better off me.
​
And boy was bad an understatement.
​
My fear kicked in when it left my bed. Calling it humanoid would be one hell of a stretch, it had legs, arms, a head, and everything in between, but they moved in the wrong places. It's skin was grey with a texture that seemed like it was caked in ash. It's legs were contorted in the shape of a dog's hind legs, it's body had bits hard white material stuck out of it's skin, some as bog as his forearm, others a bit smaller. It's head had patches of black hair, some long, some short, and it's eyes.
​
Those eyes.
​
They were probably the only thing that was closest to human. They were either brown or orange, couldn't tell. But the way they looked, it reminded me of an old person's eyes. They seemed to convey years of pain wisdom. I could tell it was tired, even from where I stood I recognized that look from when I saw myself in the mirror after a week long project.
It ate like an ape, using it's hands to scoop food into it's mouth, somehow without cutting the container. After it ate, it stood there, looking at me like it was going, "What now?"
Seeing as it didn't want to eat me, I popped open a can and offered it one. Nervously, it took it from my hand. After a few tries, it figured out how to actually drink from the can and as it did, it let out some cheery tune.
​
"Why are you under my bed?", I asked.
It pointed to the window. Confused, I walked there to see people, protesters.
​
"Scared of them?", it slowly nodded. A bang echoed from the distance and the thing crushed the can. It dropped it to reveal a cut. It dripped thick black liquid, but what caught my attention was how it turned white before hardening into small bump
​
My fear turned to pity. Was every bit of that white stuff a wound? I didn't even wanna know how it got that large. Suddenly feeling awkward, I cleaned up the mess and laid in bed. We sat there for a moment, I could tell it was uncomfortable now that I knew why it was covered in that white stuff.
Deciding to move my attention elsewhere, I opened my laptop, connected my headphones and played some music. The thing must've heard and went and pointed at my headphones. I unplugged my headphones and played it on full blast. It smiled as I went through my full playlist it was trying to imitate the instruments and vocals, keyword is trying. But still, I couldn't help but smile at it's childish antics. Kinda reminded me of when I was a kid copying my favorite cartoons.
By the time night fell, I finally had the confidence the return to my bedroom. And as I got ready to sleep, the thing gave me a grin that I hoped was a smile before returning to the darkness under my bed. From that day on, I had a paranormal roommate.
|
"Oh Fred! You sure know that is never enough!" I replied in a thick German accent. Fred never knew. He had just been hiding under the bed ever since I told him, it was where those kreepy clawed men would go into hiding when they were after those cookie stealing kids.
Fred sighed and put a few notes on top.
"Come on, it is Corona time. No cash. And by the way, you know my e-mail. I always keep telling you, I accept PayPal."
When I decided to let him stay under the bed I would have never guessed what troubles he would get me into. Since I could not pursue a decent job, I had to start a career as a writer. And since I did not know how to pursue a career as a writer and kept writing for my own blog in irregular intervals, I had been fully dependent on his cash injections.
Well, for me not being able to pursue a decent job, in a way had been Fred's fault. If it was not for him I could have been a shiny flight attendant or walking the line in Gothenburg, for whatever that means anyway. I would not know. I had to care for Fred's daily and mostly hourly needs. You know what I mean.
Now, being such an occupied luminaire\* I sat there on the mattress one and a half yards away from the canopy bed, stared into Fred's glowing red eye and sighed. "How are we supposed to survive this crisis not being able to going to work a decent job and why do you have so much cash on you anyway? Are you sneaking out while I am sleeping?"
God Save The Queen by the Sex Pistols was softly playing from the phone across the room. Mother was calling.
\*I have always wanted to use this shiny word, but never got around to it and do not know exactly in what context you were supposed to use it.\*\*
\*\*Well, I know exactly in what context you are supposed to use it, but I find the contexts in which you are supposed to use it to being too boring to actually write them down, so I make up my own contexts and deem them fitting.\*\*\*
\*\*\*Please excuse my uber complicated use of structure and prolonged sentences, I am German and I do not really know, what I am doing.
|
Obligatory: This is not mine! I fell in love with it years ago when I found it on Pinterest and saved it in a folder.
|
[WP] You tossed your rent bill across the room in frustration and it went under your bed. A minute later, a grotesque claw pushes the bill back out with a wad of cash.
|
The dirty yellow claw slowly retreated, scratching the wood floor. Chiara felt all her body-hairs stand up on end as the fat stack of creased notes continued existing. Shaking, she eyed the door, tensed her legs and -
“Seriously, not even a thank-you?” the indignant voice rumbled underneath.
Chiara squeaked. Then whimpered.
“Hardly a thank-you. Have you forgotten your manners?”
“What. The. F-’
“Improper language to use in front of a guest, really.”
“Who are you, and do I need to call the police or my therapist?”
“You know who I am.’
The notes and scratch-marks continued existing. Chiara could hear no breathing, but could hear a slight creaking of the floorboards coming from beneath her bed. Shaking, she grabbed the doorknob. “Come out. Now.”
“First. A thank-you.”
“-nk you,” she squeaked.
“Thank you” she had said to the shadowy mass 22 years ago. Memories, squashed and wrenched through the years, came back to her. Her enraged drunk father finally battering open her door, towering over her shivering self. The anger becoming intoxicated bewilderment and settling on terror. The man running. The shifting amalgam of limbs and eyes and teeth skirting into the girl's peripheries. The feeling of relief and wonder. The meeting of a -
“Hello, old friend.”
|
"Oh Fred! You sure know that is never enough!" I replied in a thick German accent. Fred never knew. He had just been hiding under the bed ever since I told him, it was where those kreepy clawed men would go into hiding when they were after those cookie stealing kids.
Fred sighed and put a few notes on top.
"Come on, it is Corona time. No cash. And by the way, you know my e-mail. I always keep telling you, I accept PayPal."
When I decided to let him stay under the bed I would have never guessed what troubles he would get me into. Since I could not pursue a decent job, I had to start a career as a writer. And since I did not know how to pursue a career as a writer and kept writing for my own blog in irregular intervals, I had been fully dependent on his cash injections.
Well, for me not being able to pursue a decent job, in a way had been Fred's fault. If it was not for him I could have been a shiny flight attendant or walking the line in Gothenburg, for whatever that means anyway. I would not know. I had to care for Fred's daily and mostly hourly needs. You know what I mean.
Now, being such an occupied luminaire\* I sat there on the mattress one and a half yards away from the canopy bed, stared into Fred's glowing red eye and sighed. "How are we supposed to survive this crisis not being able to going to work a decent job and why do you have so much cash on you anyway? Are you sneaking out while I am sleeping?"
God Save The Queen by the Sex Pistols was softly playing from the phone across the room. Mother was calling.
\*I have always wanted to use this shiny word, but never got around to it and do not know exactly in what context you were supposed to use it.\*\*
\*\*Well, I know exactly in what context you are supposed to use it, but I find the contexts in which you are supposed to use it to being too boring to actually write them down, so I make up my own contexts and deem them fitting.\*\*\*
\*\*\*Please excuse my uber complicated use of structure and prolonged sentences, I am German and I do not really know, what I am doing.
|
Obligatory: This is not mine! I fell in love with it years ago when I found it on Pinterest and saved it in a folder.
|
[WP] You tossed your rent bill across the room in frustration and it went under your bed. A minute later, a grotesque claw pushes the bill back out with a wad of cash.
|
I blink. Then again. And again.
What is going on? Is this some kind of prank?
"Th.. thank you?" I manage to choke out.
​
~~"Welcome."~~
​
An icy fear grips my heart and I tear away from my bed as far as my cramped studio apartment room would let me. My trembling hands manage to find a broomstick, and I point what I hope is the business end at the crevice beneath my sleeping arrangements.
​
"WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?? WHO ARE YOU????"
Silence.
"A-ANSWER ME!!" I could barely cough out the words. The fear had risen to my throat.
​
~~"Watcher."~~
​
The words come to my ears but I don't hear them. Almost as if they skip my hearing entirely, and burn straight into my mind as a perception.
​
"Wh.. what.."
​
~~"Watcher."~~
​
My eyes grow dark. Blind panic grips my mind. I cannot hold it together. "Who--- Please don't hurt..."
​
​
I wake to the sound of my nightly medication alarm. I am on my bed, still in the clothes I wore to work. What the hell kind of a dream did I just have?
My comforter feels ten times heavier for some reason. I pull myself up and shrug it off onto the bed, attempting to stumble in the dark towards my medicine rack.
A firm lump strikes my toe. In the dim illumination of the streetlight through my window, I fumble about on the ground, looking for what I might have stepped on. A texture of familiar paper meets my hand, and a wave of chills shoot up my spine.
The money for my rent.
This was no dream. This was real. What the fuck. Who the hell. Who is down there. What is happening. Will I die. Is this it. What is goin--
​
~~"Alright..?"~~
​
Immediately my thoughts go blank. My heart slows. The chill subsides.
"Am I.. alright? Is that what you said..?"
"~~Yes. Alright..?"~~
​
A strange warmth washes over me. A genuine, human warmth, as though I have been wrapped in a blanket in a cold winter night.
"Y-yes. Yes, I'm okay."
~~"Good. Worried. "~~
"You were.. worried..?" What is going on? Whatever just paid my rent was worried about me? "Did you put me into bed? Were you the one who paid for my rent?"
~~"Yes. Worried."~~
​
Whatever my mystery guest was, I guess it doesn't want to harm me at least. I still don't know what it is, but for the time being, at least I know I won't be eaten. My eyes grow heavy once again, and my rational mind calls for the comfort of the sheets and pillows.
"I.. don't know who you are, but please, I want to rest. Thank you for the rent, I guess. I suppose it's okay for you to be here, just please don't kill me," I half-whisper into the dark.
​
~~"Rest. Watcher protects."~~
​
And for the first night in years, I had a peaceful sleep.
|
The pale and veiny hand didn't draw me in near as much as the money did. Just enough, rounded up to the nearest dollar. I'd made rent for the month.
Like a handful of luck--good or bad, I didn't yet know--I clutched it and stood beside the bed. Thanks seemed appropriate, but there was no hand to thank, no beady eyes on a hideous head. I said thanks anyways, even if just to some unseen God for helping me through those tough times.
"Thanks," I said.
The hand reappeared. Wiry and gnarled, like an old watchmaker's hand, but pale as today was bright. It didn't have money this time. Instead, it braced itself against the side of the bed, clutching the wooden bedframe one twisted finger at a time, and pulled itself out from underneath.
The figure stretched out, its humanoid shape uncanny--the way its limbs were too limber and its smile stretched too wide. Like it'd forgotten to grow cheeks, and in their place the far seams of its lips met near its ears.
"Oh, thank you," it hissed, sending chills down my spine like snowflakes in July.
Mama had always told me not to stare. Even when the neighbor kid's dad got his face burnt by that kettle of boiling water, turning him into a peeling monster mean as sin, Mama told me not to stare. When a fellow waved my way with four fingers or six, Mama told me not to stare.
"Look 'em straight in the eyes like you would me," she'd say. "Don't look at how they're different, 'cause inside we're all just the same."
I listened to Mama, and I stared this wretched creature straight in the eyes.
"Thanks for what?" I said. "You gave me the rent money."
"Gave?" It ran its pale fingers along calloused palms, like just discovering its sense of touch. A pointed, black tongue ran along white lips, hungry as it was for more conversation. "I wouldn't say gave so much as... Traded. I've *traded* you the rent money."
"Traded?" I said. "For what? For the bill? I've got another half-dozen of those, if you want."
It laughed, and I'd never heard a laugh so rotten. It grated like styrofoam on cardboard, like a knife scraping along a dinner plate. The chills traveled up and down my spine again.
"For the bill? Oh, silly human. I traded it for your company."
I gulped, clutched the wad of bills. Misery *loved* company, but I didn't quite love misery. I held out the bills, offering them back, but the grotesque creature shook its head.
"No, no, no, silly human," it hissed, like a snake chastising its little snakelets. "No take-backsies. No getting rid of me now."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
|
Obligatory: This is not mine! I fell in love with it years ago when I found it on Pinterest and saved it in a folder.
|
[WP] You tossed your rent bill across the room in frustration and it went under your bed. A minute later, a grotesque claw pushes the bill back out with a wad of cash.
|
I looked at the bill.. “Demand for Posession”. Pretty much, pay $600 by a certain date or face eviction, Unfortunately, i'd recently lost my job, and did'nt have the money.
“Gyah! Fucking hell! I don't have it,” I chucked the envelope across the room. It landed near my bed,
a grotesque claw snatched the envelope. A wad of bills flew out from underneath and bounced against the wall.
I knocked on the bedframe. “Excuse me?”
“Whaddaya want human, wasn't that enough?” A bedraggled looking feline face poked out. It looked like a cat's face and yet vaguely humanoid. Glowing amber eyes bliked tiredly and studied me....
“Erm.. Sorry, I did'nt know I had a roomate....”
“Yeah, well did'nt know I had a landlord. I mean you never asked for anything...”
“You live under my bed? “
She slid out from underneath and jumped up on the bed. I realized that she was about 5 foot 3 and had wings like a bat but otherwise looked like a humanoid cat, complete with a tail, her claws were twisted like warped leather and yet strangely alluring. She stretched and yawned, studying me as if she was'nt sure she wanted to eat me or something else. Her inky black skin shimmered slightly in the daylight coming through the blinds.
“I think you live on my roof. My apartment is half in your world and half in mine. Look I don't know how it works, something to do with beds and human sleep energy. You people are weird. Anyways, I can have more for you next month, we can figure evertyhing else later, I've got work tonight, ok?”
“Yeah ok... What do you do for work?”
“Cam Girl, I said you people are weird” She laughed then purred “but so amusing...”
|
The pale and veiny hand didn't draw me in near as much as the money did. Just enough, rounded up to the nearest dollar. I'd made rent for the month.
Like a handful of luck--good or bad, I didn't yet know--I clutched it and stood beside the bed. Thanks seemed appropriate, but there was no hand to thank, no beady eyes on a hideous head. I said thanks anyways, even if just to some unseen God for helping me through those tough times.
"Thanks," I said.
The hand reappeared. Wiry and gnarled, like an old watchmaker's hand, but pale as today was bright. It didn't have money this time. Instead, it braced itself against the side of the bed, clutching the wooden bedframe one twisted finger at a time, and pulled itself out from underneath.
The figure stretched out, its humanoid shape uncanny--the way its limbs were too limber and its smile stretched too wide. Like it'd forgotten to grow cheeks, and in their place the far seams of its lips met near its ears.
"Oh, thank you," it hissed, sending chills down my spine like snowflakes in July.
Mama had always told me not to stare. Even when the neighbor kid's dad got his face burnt by that kettle of boiling water, turning him into a peeling monster mean as sin, Mama told me not to stare. When a fellow waved my way with four fingers or six, Mama told me not to stare.
"Look 'em straight in the eyes like you would me," she'd say. "Don't look at how they're different, 'cause inside we're all just the same."
I listened to Mama, and I stared this wretched creature straight in the eyes.
"Thanks for what?" I said. "You gave me the rent money."
"Gave?" It ran its pale fingers along calloused palms, like just discovering its sense of touch. A pointed, black tongue ran along white lips, hungry as it was for more conversation. "I wouldn't say gave so much as... Traded. I've *traded* you the rent money."
"Traded?" I said. "For what? For the bill? I've got another half-dozen of those, if you want."
It laughed, and I'd never heard a laugh so rotten. It grated like styrofoam on cardboard, like a knife scraping along a dinner plate. The chills traveled up and down my spine again.
"For the bill? Oh, silly human. I traded it for your company."
I gulped, clutched the wad of bills. Misery *loved* company, but I didn't quite love misery. I held out the bills, offering them back, but the grotesque creature shook its head.
"No, no, no, silly human," it hissed, like a snake chastising its little snakelets. "No take-backsies. No getting rid of me now."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I turned the key and unlocked the door to my first ever house. *What a landmark day*, I thought, as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I let my bag drop to the floor next to me and walked over to the kitchen counter. There was a plain white envelope on it, maybe something the movers left behind for me to sign.
I was tired from dealing with all the paperwork earlier in the day -- buying a house involves a whole mess of it -- and all I wanted to do was head to the bar and celebrate with Bill and Jim, but my curiosity got the better of me.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a type-written letter that said:
*Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.*
I wrinkled my face in confusion and scoffed at the weirdness of the message. What the hell could be wrong with having a bit of pie with the neighbors? I'm sure they're just trying to be neighborly. Come to think of it, the previous owner was a bit on the eccentric side, always looking over his shoulder during the signing this morning.
I crumpled the paper and tossed it onto the counter just as the doorbell rang.
A flash of annoyance bounced through my head. I let out a sigh and walked over to the door. I just wanted to get to the bar. Dealing with strangers was the last thing I needed. *Let's get this over with*.
I put on my best fake smile and opened the door. A tall man and his stubby wife were waiting for me on the other side, each holding a freshly baked lemon merengue pie. There was a certain emptiness in their eyes, as if they were looking right past me.
"Welcome to your new home! We're the Dawsons," they said in unison and stretched out their arms offering me the pies like it was some kind of ritual they'd done a hundred times before.
I was jolted by the weirdness of it all, but I raised my hands and accepted the pies. The tins were still warm to the touch. They were both wearing t-shirts that said, "When life gives you lemons, make pie!" emblazoned across the front. I smiled. The sooner I got through this, the sooner I could get in my car and be on my way. I took a whiff of the pies and feigned interest.
"Mmm, they smell nice. Thanks, that's ... very kind of you. But you didn't have to go through the trouble," I said.
"Oh no trouble at all," they replied. "Won't you have some?"
*Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE*.
A chill creeped through my arms despite holding onto the still-warm pies. I took a step back and started towards the kitchen.
"Well, maybe later. I still haven't unpacked my cutlery and I was on my way out...so I think I'll just leave these on the counter for now," I said.
"But really, thank you, we'll have to get together sometime. I mean it. Good bye for now," I said and shut the door.
I leaned up against the door and let out a sigh of relief. Jesus christ, that was weird. Okay, so maybe the guy before me wasn't so paranoid after all. With neighbors like these...
Another knock at the door.
I jumped like a startled cat and laughed at how silly I was being. Of course it was rude of me to just close the door on those poor folks. They were just trying to be nice. Love thy neighbor and all that. I opened the door again.
"Howdy neighbor, I'm Phil from down the road. I just saw the Dawsons leaving and I wanted to stop by and bring you this," Phil said.
He was holding a fluffy lemon merengue. He continued, "It's just a little something to welcome you to the neighborhood."
Adrenaline sparked through my veins, and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I rubbed them on my jeans and looked at Phil's eyes. They had that same empty look about them, no driver needed, a self-driving Uber, running on some kind of artificial intelligence. What the fuck were these people smoking?
"Th-thanks, Phil, but the Dawson's already left me two pies. And I really need to be going now," I said, closing and locking the door.
*God damn. I'll just wait a few minutes until he leaves and then I'll finally be on my way*.
I turned around to catch my breath, but standing behind me were the Dawsons, a pie in each hand.
"Won't you have some? Just a bite is all it will take...", they said.
My heart fluttered into my stomach as panic set in. I jerked an about face and fumbled with the lock on the door. I barely managed to get it open before the Dawsons would be on top of me. I flung the door open and ran outside...
Right into Phil, standing in my walkway.
"Howdy neighbor. I really think you ought to have some of this pie," he said.
Raw adrenaline pounded through my entire body. I looked behind me and saw the Dawsons lumbering out of the doorway. To my left I saw two more neighbors creeping over, with fully loaded pies in their hands. To my right, a pack of kids, laden with a handful of filthy pies.
"What the fuck is going on?" I screamed.
"We're Vampiers," they all said in unison.
"Welcome home."
The last thing I saw with my human eyes were clouds of white merengue, blotting out my vision as my consciousness faded into darkness.
|
I kicked the door open, dropping the last of our boxes onto the floor. This was it, our new home. Elijah was already in the kitchen, frowning at a piece of paper nailed messily on the wall. I walked towards the kitchen, dodging the mess of boxes strewn across the hall “Babe, you okay? Think you can help me organise some of this stuff?”. Elijah tore the paper from the wall. “Look at this” he said, handing the paper to me. I looked over the flimsy handwriting scrawled across the paper, rolling my eyes. “Trust me, it’s probably the owner’s kid messing with us”. I pushed the paper back into his hands, smiling at him. He seemed so attractive when he was serious. Elijah reluctantly put the paper down, trying to relax the worried look on his face “your probably right, and anyways, when have I ever said no to pie?” His lips broke into a grin as he pushed the paper away.
Suddenly, the door bell rang.
Elijah looked at me, raising his eyebrows in confusion. I laughed and grabbed his hands, dragging him to the door “they’re called neighbours, genius. They probably saw the moving truck outside”. We opened the door, facing an elderly man with a small girl hiding behind his legs. “Hi there, you must be new neighbours” he smiled kindly, slightly squinting his eyes. “My granddaughter here has something to give you, it’s the neighbourhoods secret recipe”. The little girl handed a carrier bag to me and ran back into hiding behind her grandfather. I peered inside, seeing a large lemon meringue pie in the container. “Thank you so much” I said, taking the container out of the bag “we love pie”. The old man laughed and started to walk away “well you better promise you’ll eat it then”. I propped the container onto a nearby stool. “It’s probably some sort of neighbourhood thing” I assured Elijah, who was eyeing the note he had found before. Just as we were about to step away from the door, we heard the bell go again, followed by impatient knocking. We opened the door again, and was greeted with a middle-aged couple, who were wearing matching shirts and fluorescent orange trainers. They had a paper plate in their hands, with two thick slices of pie wrapped neatly in tissue paper. “ you must be the new neighbours!” The woman said, almost too eagerly. The man handed us plastic forks and edged the plate closer to our faces “there’s a neighbourhood tradition of giving lemon meringue pie to new neighbours, and since it’s our first time baking, we’d love you to try it”. The woman smiled and nodded, snatching the plate from the man and pushing it closer to us. Elijah looked at me uneasily as I dug my fork into the pie. Elijah promptly pushed the plate away “we would love to have some, but we’re allergic to lemons I’m afraid” he said, smiling glumly at the cake. “Both of you?” The man questioned. “I- well I guess....” Elijah started to panic, mumbling out words. “What he meant to say was that he’s allergic - deathly allergic - but I’ll happily put it in my kitchen so I can eat it after” i grabbed the plate out of the lady’s hand and walked towards the kitchen. The woman’s smile faltered as she attempted to say something, but the man pulled her back and they started to go. “Make sure you eat it and tell me how it tastes. It’ll mean a lot to me” said the lady as she walked away with the man.
I placed the plate on the empty table, looking over the slices of pie we had. It seemed like pretty basic pie. It didn’t look good enough or bad enough to be suspicious. It was just lemon meringue pie. “Don’t eat it” Elijah said, standing a fair distance away from the pie, as if waiting for it to explode. Before I could say anything, the door bell rang. Again. And it kept ringing. I think almost every person who lived in the building came. All 52 of them. Some of them even came twice, making sure that we liked the pie. Some were young and some were old. Some seemed excited, and some were nervous to the point where they just handed us the pie and left without saying anything more. Most of them just seemed tired, handing us pie wrapped in greasy foil and walking off, exchanging a kind word or two. It was strange. It was even stranger walking into the kitchen and trying not to step on stray slices of lemon meringue which had taken up most of the floor.
The bin was overflowed with pie. The table was overflowed with pie. There was so much pie. Even if we did decide to eat the pie, we would never be able to finish all of it. It seemed strange how so many people were committed to making so much pie. Most neighbours came by with entire dishes of pie, and some came with a few slices. The smell of sweet lemon and buttery crust was starting to get to me, making me feel dizzy as I sat on a shelf laying on its side in the middle of all the boxes. Elijah came out of the kitchen, lugging a large bin bag out the door “we’ve got to get rid of all this” he said dragging the bag out the front door, a small hole in the bag letting the pie crumbs flood out. I eyed the pie slice sitting on the paper plate near my feet. To hell with it, it’s just pie. I took a small bite, closing my eyes as the lemony filling swirled around my tongue. I waited a bit, nothing happened. I took another bite, swallowing a little quicker, and eventually I gave up, wolfing down the entire slice. Elijah came back from outside and froze, staring at me in all my pie-stained glory, crumbs falling off the edge of my lips. I laughed and reached for another slice. “WHATS WRONG WITH YOU?” He shouted, rushing to clear the pie away from the floor. “It’s just pie!” I giggled, feeling so stupid. “They probably just have this thing where they all make pie one day and test their recipe out on the neighbours”. It made sense. He looked at me dumbfounded “107 SLICES? AND YES I COUNTED”. I laughed “what? You think they drugged the pie? You’d only need one slice, never mind 107” I walked off, trying to find the mattress we could sleep on for the night. Elijah looked at the pie suspiciously, examining the pastry and digging through the filling with a spoon. “Well I guess we should wait till tomorrow to find out, if your even alive by then....” Elijah sulkily walked out the kitchen and fell on to the mattress that I dragged out from under all the boxes.
The next day I woke up, and felt sick. It wasn’t the pie itself though. I was too petty to admit there was anything wrong with the pie so I decided to eat a lot of it. And ungodly amount almost. The pie wasn’t bad. A bit bitter maybe, a little sour, but so are lemons. I picked myself up off the mattress, wary not to wake Elijah up. Suddenly the door rang. I dragged my legs across the floor, dreading to see another neighbour coming with more pie. I opened the door, and was greeted with a large group of people crowding outside my door each person holding a large-ish black bag. “Um yes?” I said looking out to the people who were smiling nervously, looking over the shoulders. The old man that gave me my first slice of pie came forward, smiling sheepishly. “I’m so sorry, we usually tell new neighbours a couple years after they’ve moved in but I’m afraid-“ “I’m confused.. what?” I was starting to panic. Everyone looked nervous and fidgety. I saw people struggling to hold the black bags, switching them from hand to hand. The old man smiled sadly, looking at his grand daughter, the little girl, sitting on the floor beside him. She was nervously picking a large scab which took up the most part of her arm. The old man smiled kindly “I’ll try and say this simply - we’re a really strong community here in this neighbourhood, and we’re always there for each other”. I saw a man somewhere in the crowd talking to his wife “...here he goes again..”. The old man continued “... so whenever any one of us messes us, we’re there for them..”. I swallowed nervously as I started to realised what was happening. “...this time my granddaughter got into a little bit of a rough patch with one of her friends and things didn’t get so well...” the man stopped to look over his shoulder, eyeing the black bags. He continued speaking but suddenly, it hit me. All the voices started to drown out into a gentle murmur as I slowly turned my head to look towards the container of pie propped on the stool nearby. As I looked closer I realised the pie was definitely more brown that it should be. Maybe even a shade of red. I though the pie just was more unique in texture, but it’s unusual lumpiness started to appear to me. The sour smell masked by the sweet lemon started to waft into my nose, and the small bits and pieces wedged between the crust started to look more and more familiar. My heart started to beat faster and faster, pumping mercilessly in my chest. The old mans voice started to get clearer as I turned my head back to him “....so it’s usually mike from apartment 8 who chops the persons parts into small pieces and then we hand them out to the people who live in the building. We then blend them as best as we can and put them in pie. Doesn’t taste as bad when you don’t know about it huh?” He smiled, not noticing how pale my face had become. From the corner of my eye I saw a woman in the crowd complaining to her husband “...I knew that little girl was trouble”. “It was you who did it last time” quipped the man, laughing at his wife who stormed away. The old man dumped a black bag onto my doorstep and walked away “and remember, we’re always there if you need us”. I looked at the bag, edging further way from it. The rest of the crowd moved on, dropping small black bags on everyone’s doorstep. The little girl stayed, looking at me with large eyes. “Don’t worry, i made sure you only got his legs” she stamped her feet, turning on the lights on her shoes “the legs are the easiest to blend once you’ve taken the bones out”. She started to walk away, but turned around and shoved a piece of paper in my hands “oh and here’s the pie recipe”
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I turned the key and unlocked the door to my first ever house. *What a landmark day*, I thought, as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I let my bag drop to the floor next to me and walked over to the kitchen counter. There was a plain white envelope on it, maybe something the movers left behind for me to sign.
I was tired from dealing with all the paperwork earlier in the day -- buying a house involves a whole mess of it -- and all I wanted to do was head to the bar and celebrate with Bill and Jim, but my curiosity got the better of me.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a type-written letter that said:
*Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.*
I wrinkled my face in confusion and scoffed at the weirdness of the message. What the hell could be wrong with having a bit of pie with the neighbors? I'm sure they're just trying to be neighborly. Come to think of it, the previous owner was a bit on the eccentric side, always looking over his shoulder during the signing this morning.
I crumpled the paper and tossed it onto the counter just as the doorbell rang.
A flash of annoyance bounced through my head. I let out a sigh and walked over to the door. I just wanted to get to the bar. Dealing with strangers was the last thing I needed. *Let's get this over with*.
I put on my best fake smile and opened the door. A tall man and his stubby wife were waiting for me on the other side, each holding a freshly baked lemon merengue pie. There was a certain emptiness in their eyes, as if they were looking right past me.
"Welcome to your new home! We're the Dawsons," they said in unison and stretched out their arms offering me the pies like it was some kind of ritual they'd done a hundred times before.
I was jolted by the weirdness of it all, but I raised my hands and accepted the pies. The tins were still warm to the touch. They were both wearing t-shirts that said, "When life gives you lemons, make pie!" emblazoned across the front. I smiled. The sooner I got through this, the sooner I could get in my car and be on my way. I took a whiff of the pies and feigned interest.
"Mmm, they smell nice. Thanks, that's ... very kind of you. But you didn't have to go through the trouble," I said.
"Oh no trouble at all," they replied. "Won't you have some?"
*Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE*.
A chill creeped through my arms despite holding onto the still-warm pies. I took a step back and started towards the kitchen.
"Well, maybe later. I still haven't unpacked my cutlery and I was on my way out...so I think I'll just leave these on the counter for now," I said.
"But really, thank you, we'll have to get together sometime. I mean it. Good bye for now," I said and shut the door.
I leaned up against the door and let out a sigh of relief. Jesus christ, that was weird. Okay, so maybe the guy before me wasn't so paranoid after all. With neighbors like these...
Another knock at the door.
I jumped like a startled cat and laughed at how silly I was being. Of course it was rude of me to just close the door on those poor folks. They were just trying to be nice. Love thy neighbor and all that. I opened the door again.
"Howdy neighbor, I'm Phil from down the road. I just saw the Dawsons leaving and I wanted to stop by and bring you this," Phil said.
He was holding a fluffy lemon merengue. He continued, "It's just a little something to welcome you to the neighborhood."
Adrenaline sparked through my veins, and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I rubbed them on my jeans and looked at Phil's eyes. They had that same empty look about them, no driver needed, a self-driving Uber, running on some kind of artificial intelligence. What the fuck were these people smoking?
"Th-thanks, Phil, but the Dawson's already left me two pies. And I really need to be going now," I said, closing and locking the door.
*God damn. I'll just wait a few minutes until he leaves and then I'll finally be on my way*.
I turned around to catch my breath, but standing behind me were the Dawsons, a pie in each hand.
"Won't you have some? Just a bite is all it will take...", they said.
My heart fluttered into my stomach as panic set in. I jerked an about face and fumbled with the lock on the door. I barely managed to get it open before the Dawsons would be on top of me. I flung the door open and ran outside...
Right into Phil, standing in my walkway.
"Howdy neighbor. I really think you ought to have some of this pie," he said.
Raw adrenaline pounded through my entire body. I looked behind me and saw the Dawsons lumbering out of the doorway. To my left I saw two more neighbors creeping over, with fully loaded pies in their hands. To my right, a pack of kids, laden with a handful of filthy pies.
"What the fuck is going on?" I screamed.
"We're Vampiers," they all said in unison.
"Welcome home."
The last thing I saw with my human eyes were clouds of white merengue, blotting out my vision as my consciousness faded into darkness.
|
Delighted to finally be in our dream home, surrounded by boxes my wife and I hugged deeply. As I soaked in the moment, and the smell of her hair, thinking about the new chapter of our lives that we were just starting to pen, I felt her tense.
"What's wrong?" I asked, worried she was having doubts about the house.
"Whats that on the table?"
I turned and saw a clean white piece of paper on the rustic table the previous owner had left in the kitchen. It was a single, frustrating inch too wide for the door and Clive said we could have it because he didn't want to take the door frame off again for what he called 'a bloody old bit of wood'
I went over and picked up the note. Clive's handwriting was neater than his usual crude choice of words suggested.
"Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.”
After I read out the note Louise relaxed
"Haha, Clive obviously doesn't think very highly of the neighbours cooking "
We didn't give it anymore thought and went about the unpacking, making sure to find the kettle and the tea bags first. Just as we were brewing up for a second time there was a knock at the back door and a friendly "coo-ee"
One of the reasons we had moved to the country was for the community spirit. It walked right it, with a welcoming smile, a pair of glasses hanging on a chain around her neck....and a lemon meringue pie in her hand.
I shared a sideways glance with Louise. Clive really did know his neighbours well. There was no way we were eating that. 'L' immediately showed off why I married her.
As soon as the pleasantries were done, and the crucial moment of being offered the pie arrived, she went into action:
"Oh Mrs Allen, that's wonderful of you. I feel terrible though, both my husband and I are allergic to lemons" She turned and looked lovingly into my eyes "its actually what we bonded over when we first met" I inwardly hoped she wasn't able to lie that easily to me.
"Oh isn't that a shame. Never mind dears, I love baking and it won't go to waste." She replied, sounding more disappointed than she wanted to.
We sat down to a cup of tea and chatted with our new neighbour. Maybe half an hour and a few attempts to get us to eat the pie despite our fictional allergy later, she left to let us get back to our boxes.
We had a laugh about the pie and got back to work. We stopped laughing again when the next neighbour arrived covered in flour and holding a fresh, warm, strawberry tart.
"Gwen said you were allergic to lemon so I'll give my sister the pie I made and I knocked you up my famous strawberry tart instead"
This went on for two more neighbours through the afternoon. Our lies getting thinner and noticeably less convincing.
"Oh Steve, the tart looks great but we just ate lunch. We'll have to have it later when we have space"
"Thanks so much for the crumble Martin, but we haven't even started on Steve's tart yet. Why don't you hang on to that and we can come over later in the week for a slice with you?"
"You won't believe this Sarah but Louise is allergic to nuts as well as lemons. We really appreciate the cake but I will have to politely refuse or she will swell up like a pufferfish!"
It couldn't last. As evening arrived Steve came back to see how the strawberry tart had gone down. Politeness, and a desire not to annoy all the neighbours on the first day, won out and we agreed to share some over a cup of tea at that rustic table.
So, there I am, laid on the top of that bloody rustic table, feeling like I'm coming around from a general anaesthetic, the taste of strawberry lingering on my tongue when I hear the voice of Gwen:
"Well Steve, as it was your strawberry tart that finally managed to get them, you can start to initiate Clive's replacements...I just hope they aren't allergic to anything else, and that the ritual still works without lemons.."
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I turned the key and unlocked the door to my first ever house. *What a landmark day*, I thought, as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I let my bag drop to the floor next to me and walked over to the kitchen counter. There was a plain white envelope on it, maybe something the movers left behind for me to sign.
I was tired from dealing with all the paperwork earlier in the day -- buying a house involves a whole mess of it -- and all I wanted to do was head to the bar and celebrate with Bill and Jim, but my curiosity got the better of me.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a type-written letter that said:
*Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.*
I wrinkled my face in confusion and scoffed at the weirdness of the message. What the hell could be wrong with having a bit of pie with the neighbors? I'm sure they're just trying to be neighborly. Come to think of it, the previous owner was a bit on the eccentric side, always looking over his shoulder during the signing this morning.
I crumpled the paper and tossed it onto the counter just as the doorbell rang.
A flash of annoyance bounced through my head. I let out a sigh and walked over to the door. I just wanted to get to the bar. Dealing with strangers was the last thing I needed. *Let's get this over with*.
I put on my best fake smile and opened the door. A tall man and his stubby wife were waiting for me on the other side, each holding a freshly baked lemon merengue pie. There was a certain emptiness in their eyes, as if they were looking right past me.
"Welcome to your new home! We're the Dawsons," they said in unison and stretched out their arms offering me the pies like it was some kind of ritual they'd done a hundred times before.
I was jolted by the weirdness of it all, but I raised my hands and accepted the pies. The tins were still warm to the touch. They were both wearing t-shirts that said, "When life gives you lemons, make pie!" emblazoned across the front. I smiled. The sooner I got through this, the sooner I could get in my car and be on my way. I took a whiff of the pies and feigned interest.
"Mmm, they smell nice. Thanks, that's ... very kind of you. But you didn't have to go through the trouble," I said.
"Oh no trouble at all," they replied. "Won't you have some?"
*Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE*.
A chill creeped through my arms despite holding onto the still-warm pies. I took a step back and started towards the kitchen.
"Well, maybe later. I still haven't unpacked my cutlery and I was on my way out...so I think I'll just leave these on the counter for now," I said.
"But really, thank you, we'll have to get together sometime. I mean it. Good bye for now," I said and shut the door.
I leaned up against the door and let out a sigh of relief. Jesus christ, that was weird. Okay, so maybe the guy before me wasn't so paranoid after all. With neighbors like these...
Another knock at the door.
I jumped like a startled cat and laughed at how silly I was being. Of course it was rude of me to just close the door on those poor folks. They were just trying to be nice. Love thy neighbor and all that. I opened the door again.
"Howdy neighbor, I'm Phil from down the road. I just saw the Dawsons leaving and I wanted to stop by and bring you this," Phil said.
He was holding a fluffy lemon merengue. He continued, "It's just a little something to welcome you to the neighborhood."
Adrenaline sparked through my veins, and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I rubbed them on my jeans and looked at Phil's eyes. They had that same empty look about them, no driver needed, a self-driving Uber, running on some kind of artificial intelligence. What the fuck were these people smoking?
"Th-thanks, Phil, but the Dawson's already left me two pies. And I really need to be going now," I said, closing and locking the door.
*God damn. I'll just wait a few minutes until he leaves and then I'll finally be on my way*.
I turned around to catch my breath, but standing behind me were the Dawsons, a pie in each hand.
"Won't you have some? Just a bite is all it will take...", they said.
My heart fluttered into my stomach as panic set in. I jerked an about face and fumbled with the lock on the door. I barely managed to get it open before the Dawsons would be on top of me. I flung the door open and ran outside...
Right into Phil, standing in my walkway.
"Howdy neighbor. I really think you ought to have some of this pie," he said.
Raw adrenaline pounded through my entire body. I looked behind me and saw the Dawsons lumbering out of the doorway. To my left I saw two more neighbors creeping over, with fully loaded pies in their hands. To my right, a pack of kids, laden with a handful of filthy pies.
"What the fuck is going on?" I screamed.
"We're Vampiers," they all said in unison.
"Welcome home."
The last thing I saw with my human eyes were clouds of white merengue, blotting out my vision as my consciousness faded into darkness.
|
I looked at the picturesque, blue house with white trims around the door and windows before me, as pride blossomed within me. I bought the house for 75 thousand dollars, fully furnished. An amazing price for the neighborhood. It was my first house. I glanced at the neighbor’s house next to me and hoped they were nice as I walked through the white door.
I went up to my bedroom and unpacked. There was a king-sized bed, a dresser, a mirror, and a bedside table. I opened the dresser to put away my clothes when I saw a note. It said:
Hello New Owner,
Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.
Sincerely,
Former Owner
I laughed and assumed it was a prank. I set the note down as my doorbell rang. I raced down to answer it, not wanting to be rude if it was the neighbors. It was.
“Hello, we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. We baked you a pie,” a woman with long, strait red hair, green eyes, and red painted nails, said. She had a lemon meringue pie. I love lemon anything-especially desserts. I had to accept it. I didn’t want to be rude. “Why don’t we have a slice together,” she suggested.
I agreed and we entered the kitchen. I fumbled around the kitchen until I found a knife and plates, and carefully sliced the pie. I put a slice on each plate, then, remembered my manners, and offered my guest a glass of milk. She accepted.
I hadn’t forgotten the warning. I knew I had been warned, and that it would be a bad idea to eat it, but the pie looked amazing. And, as I said, I love lemon desserts. Also, I just didn't care.
I took a bite out of the pie. It was incredible. Sour, but not too sour, and sweet, but not too sweet. It tasted like a warm summer day. I found myself eating the whole piece.
Suddenly my head started spinning. I realized why I had been warned not to eat the pie-it was drugged.
The last thing I saw before I fell into the pool of sleep induced by the drug, was my new neighbor, smiling at me, like a parent smiles at a child. I felt a reassuring warmth as I let the drug drag me to the deep, dark pool of unconsciousness.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
“Would you care for some pie”
It hasn’t been long since I read the note and here to my surprise, an old lady is standing in my front yard.
“It is lemon meringue, you’ll love it” she put on a big wrinkly smile on her face.
Out of courtesy I took the pie out of her hand and thanked her.
“Come on, Take a bite. Tell me how it is?” she insisted.
“I’ll eat it later!” I still can’t shake out the note in my head.
She kept staring as I closed the door slowly. Keeping that smile on her face…
I put the pie next to the other pie. Yes, this isn’t the first, Mr.smithen, or whatever is name brought me a pie! I didn’t take any bite neither from both of the pies. I ignored the pie and the note and made myself busy as the doorbell rang again for the 3rd time.
Let me guess another lemon meringue pie. I opened the door furiously just to see an 8-year-old girl on her pink bike.
“Hello mister, mom gave me this pie to welcome you to our neighborhood”
She took off her pony stickered helmet and handed over the pie wrapped in brown paper. She climbed at her bike and glared at me.
“What?”
“Make sure to take a bite mister! Or not your gonna regret it”
“Regret what!” I stammered.
“Regret not eating it silly. And also my mummy always tell me to brush the teeth after eating a pie! bye !”
She paddled across the road waving at me.
Heaps of pies across the kitchen.
I crossed off the list to the last person in my neighborhood. It is done, no more pies to be expected or to be delivered.
Now to burn all these pies to crisp and get the hell outta this neighborhood. Without eating any pies I’m getting sugar rushed on my head.
Then the doorbell rang again.
Did I miss anyone, all the neighbors in my block delivered the pie. There was none left out.
The bell rang like crazy. Part of my curiosity wanna open the door but the rest of my fear held me back as the ranging stopped suddenly.
I moved slowly and opened the door as wide as I possibly could take a peek.
It isn’t another lemon meringue pie rather a tall odd figure!.
I gasped in fear as it started to talk.
“Hello, I guess you didn’t take any bite out of those pies! yes ”
“Who are you?“
The figure moved into the light as I stared down a middle-age guy on his fifties.
“Well, you see. It is the 55th annual pie day! And I enjoyed every year until this year where I have to move out of this neighborhood! So I left a note and surprise it worked out! Well, excuse me I have some Crane berry pie to dig on!”
“It is lemon meringue, this year!”
“Oh- my!”
“Oh-my! What?”
“I’m allergic to lemons!”
Then we both stared at each other for a long time! Until we burst ourselves in laughter!
|
I looked at the note puzzled, "what a load of garbage " I thought, but not a minutes later I heard a knock at the door.
It was my neighbour, an elderly lady with curly grey hair. I couldn't tell if it was a wig or not as it seems like the same hairstyle that every other elderly lady I had seen was wearing a similar style.
"Hello there", she said to me as she grinned. "I see you've just moved in and I wanted to make sure you felt welcomed. I've baked you a lemon meringue pie". "Would you like to try some" she asked as she pulled out of fork. "I'm good for now" I said as I took the pie from her.
Not being one for small chat I quickly thanked her and hurried her along as I closed the door behind me.
"What on earth?" I though to myself. This really must be a thing around here.
knowing that dinner was just around the corner I decided to put the lemon meringue pie in the fridge until later but before I could start preheating the oven I heard yet another knock on the door. It was yet another neighbour, two of them, the man in the woman from across the road and weirdly enough they also had a lemon meringue pie.
"Hi there" I said as I introduced myself. "You are the second lot to bring me a lemon meringue pie". They turn to each other looking a bit worried. "Oh I can assure you that ours is the best in town, you really must have a bite" he said in a kind of nervous way as he glanced between me and his wife.
"I'm sure it is" I said as I noticed the droopy peaks of the meringue. "I'm actually just busy making dinner right now so I'll definitely be having a piece of this afterwards". They looked slightly upset but accepting of what I had said.
"Make sure you have an extra big slice it's my wife's speciality" he said as the two of them walked back to their house.
I'm not going to lie to you there was a third knock at the door but I honestly couldn't take this anymore and I already had two lemon meringue pies.
After dinner I put the two pies on the table and stared at them. They were both roughly the same size but neither of them looked as good as the ones my mother had made me as a child.
It suddenly dawned on me that this area was quite well known for producing lemons so I put two and two together and decided that this must be the reason for the weird lemon meringue tradition. Having an it's for something sweet after my meal I decided what the hell, I cut a slice of the first pie putting it onto a plate and went to sit down to enjoy it.
I've already said they didn't look as good as the ones my mother had made me, but oh boy, this did not taste as good either. In fact after two mouthfuls I decided it really was not worth another bite.
After the disappointment of the first pie I decided that things could not get any worse so I cut a slice of the second pie and once again went to sit down to try and enjoy it.
It turns out that the note I was left was indeed a dire warning; a dire warning that's no one on the street can bake and a dire warning that if you don't want to ruin your evening with lackluster desserts then you should not accept any from your neighbours.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I unpacked the last box while drinking a glass of Pinot. With no tv or internet I browsed through my phone of recent Arizona sunsets until I dozed.
Divorce followed by an extensive move to Seattle had drained me along with my wallet. But there was something about the house that made it feel like home. On my first official morning I got dressed for a run. I had thrown out my old running shoes and was literally ready for a fresh start. I connected my air pods and stretched in the foyer. As I reached for the keys a yellow post it fell on the ground “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.”
I toss the paper onto a pile of broken down boxes and trash on the steps. As I turn to unlock the door, the doorbell rings.
I jumped at the sound and my heart raced. What the fuck was wrong with me? I jerked the door open with pure annoyance until I set my eyes upon Mrs. Norma. She was hunched over, perhaps by the size of a large purse that she gripped on her shoulder. Her white hair peeked from under a loose fitting bonnet that looked like a thrift shop golden ticket item of the week if the week was during 1913.
“Oh my dear I’ve caught you at the worst time! My apologies dear!”
She propped herself, unsteadily against the door.
“Hello. I’m Ellie” I managed to blurt out, forgetting about the airbuds. I immediately regretted my decision as the smell of human decay filled my nose and mouth. The old woman stunk of piss and death. I held back the need to slam the door and vomit and not wanting to come off as rude and arrogant I slid my right foot in the door jam, causing the smallest space possible between myself and Norma. She felt my anxiety and jerked her head back. A dead blue eye fell open. The eye was nothing more than evil.
“I won’t keep you. Here’s a gift. My prize winning lemon meringue pie.”
I hadn’t noticed her hands before then. Wrinkled and stiff.
I took the pie and offered thanks.
“Enjoy.” Was all she said.
I shut the door and placed the pie on the table that held a picture of my mom, my wallet and a vase full of fresh flowers.
On my way home from my run a couple stopped me just as I reached my front door. The Eggelston’s. Sweet, high school sweethearts, perfect family. The only odd part was the mention of Norma’s pie. I grinned, having completely forgotten about the delicacy awaiting me inside.
“Enjoy.” Was the last thing they said.
I showered and headed downstairs in my robe. I wanted to do nothing more than relax but my stomach growled. Hunger. The pie was still on the table. I stuck my fingers into the white whipped topping and tasted it. Nothing in my life had ever tasted better. Not wine, not love, not anything. Before I knew it, I had eaten half the pie. The crust crumbled between my breast and covered my feet on the floor. How long had I been standing here? Was that sunrise or sunset? Why was I so tired. Was I sweating?
I made my way upstairs and threw open the window. A cat sat on the iron post below the windowsill. I reached to pet it and pulled it inside. I stroked the cat as it purred with pleasure. I rubbed my cheek over its head as i took a bite of its neck.
Nothing in my life had ever tasted better. Not wine, not love, not pie.
|
I looked at the note puzzled, "what a load of garbage " I thought, but not a minutes later I heard a knock at the door.
It was my neighbour, an elderly lady with curly grey hair. I couldn't tell if it was a wig or not as it seems like the same hairstyle that every other elderly lady I had seen was wearing a similar style.
"Hello there", she said to me as she grinned. "I see you've just moved in and I wanted to make sure you felt welcomed. I've baked you a lemon meringue pie". "Would you like to try some" she asked as she pulled out of fork. "I'm good for now" I said as I took the pie from her.
Not being one for small chat I quickly thanked her and hurried her along as I closed the door behind me.
"What on earth?" I though to myself. This really must be a thing around here.
knowing that dinner was just around the corner I decided to put the lemon meringue pie in the fridge until later but before I could start preheating the oven I heard yet another knock on the door. It was yet another neighbour, two of them, the man in the woman from across the road and weirdly enough they also had a lemon meringue pie.
"Hi there" I said as I introduced myself. "You are the second lot to bring me a lemon meringue pie". They turn to each other looking a bit worried. "Oh I can assure you that ours is the best in town, you really must have a bite" he said in a kind of nervous way as he glanced between me and his wife.
"I'm sure it is" I said as I noticed the droopy peaks of the meringue. "I'm actually just busy making dinner right now so I'll definitely be having a piece of this afterwards". They looked slightly upset but accepting of what I had said.
"Make sure you have an extra big slice it's my wife's speciality" he said as the two of them walked back to their house.
I'm not going to lie to you there was a third knock at the door but I honestly couldn't take this anymore and I already had two lemon meringue pies.
After dinner I put the two pies on the table and stared at them. They were both roughly the same size but neither of them looked as good as the ones my mother had made me as a child.
It suddenly dawned on me that this area was quite well known for producing lemons so I put two and two together and decided that this must be the reason for the weird lemon meringue tradition. Having an it's for something sweet after my meal I decided what the hell, I cut a slice of the first pie putting it onto a plate and went to sit down to enjoy it.
I've already said they didn't look as good as the ones my mother had made me, but oh boy, this did not taste as good either. In fact after two mouthfuls I decided it really was not worth another bite.
After the disappointment of the first pie I decided that things could not get any worse so I cut a slice of the second pie and once again went to sit down to try and enjoy it.
It turns out that the note I was left was indeed a dire warning; a dire warning that's no one on the street can bake and a dire warning that if you don't want to ruin your evening with lackluster desserts then you should not accept any from your neighbours.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
It was so nice to finally be somewhere *normal*. No explosions, no invasions, no vampires, werewolves, what-the-fuck-ever you call someone who turns into a four hundred pound hulking lion at three thirty-three in the morning--for thirty minutes. No, all of that is behind me now. Now I'm in my little house in a nice, calm *normal* suburban neighborhood. It even has a white picket fence! Perfect.
As I carry the first box into the kitchen I see the note, hastily written in smeared ink, on the counter. I pick it up and read, *"Today all off your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE."*
Huh. That's weird. I put the note back where I found it, and the doorbell rings. "Just a moment!" I call as I set the box down. I go to the front door and open it to see a brightly smiling couple, with their 2.5 kids in tow. *Normal*. The woman looks at me and trills, "Welcome to the neighborhood!"
"Thank you!" I say with a warm smile of my own. See? Normal *and* welcoming; everything I hoped for. Daydreams dance in my head of neighborhood barbecues like I used to enjoy as a child.
I want to go back and smack myself for being such a moody little brat. Baby me had no idea how good that bland, *normal* life was.
"It's part of a tradition," the other woman says with an arm around the first, "To give our neighbors a treat. A 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift, if you will."
There's a neighborhood tradition! And it doesn't involve garlic, silver, or catnip! "Oh, thank you!" I say as I take the foil covered plate from them. "What is it?"
"Lemon Meringue pie."
The world freezes for me for a moment. Lemon meringue pie? Like the note?
"Oh, lovely," I say.
"Have a bite," suggests the woman.
Thinking fast I say, "I would, but according to my diet I'm not supposed to eat any kind of sweets until seven pm." And then, for just an added touch of sincerity, "And then only for fifteen minutes. But this looks delightful," I tell them looking at the mouth-watering pie, "so I'll set aside for then. Thank you!" I tell them closing the door. I take the pie back to the kitchen and put it on the counter.
The doorbell rings just as I'm staring at the perfectly browned meringue. I go back to the door. An older woman in a floral housecoat sands there, holding--another meringue pie. "Welcome to the neighborhood!" the woman trills in exactly the same way that the first one did. "I made you a pie!"
I can feel the dream of normalcy cracking around me. "Key lime?" I ask hopefully.
She laughs. "No, Dear," she says brightly. "Lemon meringue!"
Of course it is. "Thank you," I say with a smile. If nothing else over the past three years, I've learned how to fake a warm smile.
"You should have a piece," she says eagerly. Too eagerly. "You must be famished, what with the move and all," she adds slyly.
I repeat the bit about my fake diet and take the pie to the kitchen to put it next to the first one. The first pie that, sadly is separating. The meringue is weeping amber drops of fluid as it shrinks. It's heartbreaking. Still looks good though--but the note.
The doorbell rings. Rinse and repeat the first two times. When I take the third pie to the kitchen I notice that the meringue of the second pie is also separating.
Enough. Time to get to the bottom of this. I dig through the kitchen boxes until I find my silverware, grab a knife, and go back to the pies. Pie number three is starting to separate, although it doesn't look nearly as bad as pies one and two.
I take the knife and lever the meringue off pie number one. A small creature, rather like a two tentacled octopus, is in the middle of the pie, It draws itself into a small blob and blinks at me.
I go and bang my head on a nearby cabinet. Fuck my life.
|
After months of searching for a new apartment, I found an incredible offer in a seemingly peaceful neighborhood. The previous owner was obviously desperate to sell the house, setting the price so low. He refused any personal contact and left the keys under the doormat.
I put down my bags and headed into the kitchen to tame my hunger. I opened the fridge and served myself some delicious tuna. I sat down at the table and noticed a piece of paper neatly folded on the table. While hastily shoving tuna into my mouth I opened the note and almost choked on my meal. It read: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.”
*What is this? Some kind of joke?*, I thought to myself, *I love meringue pie.. how can I resist it?* I didn’t give it much more thought and promptly forgot all about it.
A few moments later I heard a knock on the door. I am always lazy as hell after I finish my meal so I just ignored it. The knocking continued for five minutes getting progressively louder every minute. I almost gave in and moved my body towards the door when it finally stopped. The sense of relief I felt was so strong I immediately fell asleep.
I dreamt the most vivid dreams about lemon meringue and it tasted better than any other I had ever eaten. It seemed like it would have lasted forever if it wasn’t for another loud knocking that woke me up.
I was angry and filled with the urge for some lemon pie. I bitterly walked to the door and fiercely opened them. Before me stood a small girl with a big lemon meringue pie in her hands.
“Hello mister.. This is a lemon merin-” “I know exactly what it is!” I intervened and pulled the pie from her hands and shut the door. *Fuck yes,* I thought while walking back to the kitchen to eat up this delicious pack of a finely prepared piece of heaven.
I sit down and just before I plunge my spoon deep inside this delightfully juicy pie I saw that same little girl staring at me from a window, holding up a sign that said “Please eat the pie. It is very good.”
*THE NERVE,* I thought and threw the pie directly into the window. The moment it made contact with the glass, the pie exploded into deadly shrapnels which I avoided just by an inch. I didn’t duck or anything… I was just lucky as fuck. The same could not be said for the rude little girl standing in front of the window. Or should I say… ‘splattered’ around the house.
I approach the area of the explosion to examine the damage and what I saw shocked me. There was not a single edible piece of lemon pie left. What surprised me was that there was no blood anywhere. *The girl must have escaped,* I thought, but soon realized there was a lot of metal and electronic pieces all around the yard. It was clear as a day… The girl was a robot.
Another knock on the door. I knew what to expect now so I prepared and blindfolded myself. I could not control myself if I saw another lemon pie.
I opened the door and kicked as hard as I could. A short squeal and a loud thud followed. I victoriously removed the blindfold just to see an old woman lying on the ground with a big cheesecake in her lap. I was utterly shocked and depressed. I always detested cheesecakes. *People are so inconsiderate,* I thought and swiftly shut the door.
I decided to think things over when, through the door window, I saw a whole army of people holding a lemon meringue pie in their hands making their way towards my new beautiful house.
I walked to my bag, pulled out my shotgun, and put on my bulletproof vest. I decided then and there to put an end to this horrific oppression and find myself some sweet meringue pie.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I turned to the door and opened it. A kind old woman stood there holding a parcel.
"I saw you move in today, so I made you some lemon meringue pie!" she said with a cheerful smile.
I smiled gently at her and accepted the parcel. I recalled the letter, "A coincidence," I thought.
"Thank you for the pie, the name is Jared, Jared Duncan," I said with a smile.
The old woman nodded, "Come by anytime!" she said with a slight grin.
I nodded and closed the door as she left. Moving my hand to take a piece of the pie. I froze, recalling the letter.
"It can wait until dinner," I muttered, and placed the pie in a newly unpacked fridge.
Just as I walked to sit on my couch, the doorbell rang again. With a groan, I walked back to the door, wiping the look of displeasure from my face, I greeted the young man outside with a smile.
"My wife made some lemon meringue pie to welcome you to the neighborhood, my house is over there!" he said as he pointed to the house across the street, "Come by anytime!"
The smile on my face froze, before I fluidly accepted the gift and sent him off.
Once was a coincidence, twice couldn't be. Maybe it was a slightly elaborate prank set up by the neighborhood, a welcoming gag perhaps?
Shaking my head, I placed the second pie in the fridge with the first one. "Just in case," I thought.
A few moments later the door rang yet again, and sure enough another neighbor had brought him that pie. The visits continued for about an hour, the fridge was now filled with ten of those meringue pies.
These people seem to go all out for a prank I thought, shaking my head, refusing to acknowledge the faint unease that gripped me. Yet I didn't eat any of those pies that day.
"Just wondering about it isn't going to get me anywhere," he thought, the next morning. I got dressed and went over to the young man's house across the street. The silent atmosphere of neighborhood that initially seemed appealing now felt stifling.
I knocked on the door. A strange sound reassembling a zipline sounded out and a young woman opened the door.
She smiled, "You must be out new neighbor."
I gave her a slightly forced smile, "My name is Jared Duncan"
"I know, my husband told me" she said with a grin. That was odd, I don't recall telling the man my name yesterday. I shrugged it off, thinking I probably just forgot.
"Umm, listen. About those lemon meringue pies.." I began.
"Have you eaten them yet?" She asked a little too eagerly.
I brushed off the feeling as paranoia, and shook my head.
She looked slightly disappointed, "Eat them soon or they will spoil"
I nodded and went back to my new house. Wasn't there a law that said the seller of the house had to disclose any problems with the neighborhood? The guy hadn't said anything then, so why would now be any different.
As I walked off the driveway, a faint sound reassembling that of a zipline sounded out again. I turned my head and looked back at the house, "Paranoia," I told myself and walked back to my house.
I took out a pie, a little pie never hurt anyone. As I cut into it an archaic aura seemed to fill the room. Feeling uneasy, I set aside the pie and put it back into the fridge. The next day I went to a pet shop in my car. I bought two hamsters and went back home. The two of them squeaked endlessly until I entered my neighborhood, the sudden silence startled me. I turned back and saw the two hamsters curled up in corners of their cage.
They became lively again after entering my house, so I shook off the incident. I took out a piece of the pie I cut yesterday and fed it to a hamster. As I turned to put away the pie, the a sound of a zipline resounded around the room, I turned back, but the hamster that eat the pie was gone. I quickly put away the pie and looked around the house.
A few minutes later I found the hamster in another room. It was squeaking just as before. I sighed in relief and placed the hamster in my hand before lightly dropping it in its cage. The other hamster noticed the return of his companion and seemed to scuttle up to the hamster to greet him. As soon as he got close, the other hamster let out a high pitch sqeal, scuttle back to the corner it came from.
A look of terror seemed to fill the hamsters eyes.
|
After months of searching for a new apartment, I found an incredible offer in a seemingly peaceful neighborhood. The previous owner was obviously desperate to sell the house, setting the price so low. He refused any personal contact and left the keys under the doormat.
I put down my bags and headed into the kitchen to tame my hunger. I opened the fridge and served myself some delicious tuna. I sat down at the table and noticed a piece of paper neatly folded on the table. While hastily shoving tuna into my mouth I opened the note and almost choked on my meal. It read: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.”
*What is this? Some kind of joke?*, I thought to myself, *I love meringue pie.. how can I resist it?* I didn’t give it much more thought and promptly forgot all about it.
A few moments later I heard a knock on the door. I am always lazy as hell after I finish my meal so I just ignored it. The knocking continued for five minutes getting progressively louder every minute. I almost gave in and moved my body towards the door when it finally stopped. The sense of relief I felt was so strong I immediately fell asleep.
I dreamt the most vivid dreams about lemon meringue and it tasted better than any other I had ever eaten. It seemed like it would have lasted forever if it wasn’t for another loud knocking that woke me up.
I was angry and filled with the urge for some lemon pie. I bitterly walked to the door and fiercely opened them. Before me stood a small girl with a big lemon meringue pie in her hands.
“Hello mister.. This is a lemon merin-” “I know exactly what it is!” I intervened and pulled the pie from her hands and shut the door. *Fuck yes,* I thought while walking back to the kitchen to eat up this delicious pack of a finely prepared piece of heaven.
I sit down and just before I plunge my spoon deep inside this delightfully juicy pie I saw that same little girl staring at me from a window, holding up a sign that said “Please eat the pie. It is very good.”
*THE NERVE,* I thought and threw the pie directly into the window. The moment it made contact with the glass, the pie exploded into deadly shrapnels which I avoided just by an inch. I didn’t duck or anything… I was just lucky as fuck. The same could not be said for the rude little girl standing in front of the window. Or should I say… ‘splattered’ around the house.
I approach the area of the explosion to examine the damage and what I saw shocked me. There was not a single edible piece of lemon pie left. What surprised me was that there was no blood anywhere. *The girl must have escaped,* I thought, but soon realized there was a lot of metal and electronic pieces all around the yard. It was clear as a day… The girl was a robot.
Another knock on the door. I knew what to expect now so I prepared and blindfolded myself. I could not control myself if I saw another lemon pie.
I opened the door and kicked as hard as I could. A short squeal and a loud thud followed. I victoriously removed the blindfold just to see an old woman lying on the ground with a big cheesecake in her lap. I was utterly shocked and depressed. I always detested cheesecakes. *People are so inconsiderate,* I thought and swiftly shut the door.
I decided to think things over when, through the door window, I saw a whole army of people holding a lemon meringue pie in their hands making their way towards my new beautiful house.
I walked to my bag, pulled out my shotgun, and put on my bulletproof vest. I decided then and there to put an end to this horrific oppression and find myself some sweet meringue pie.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I looked over the note. Then again. It was simple, but… troubling. Still, this old house was quite cosy, and would more than make up for the trouble. It wasn’t often I was paid before doing the job, and I couldn’t complain. That said, the fact people were going to offer me lemon meringue pies was… ugh.
“I suppose that’s what happened to the last guy.” I muttered. “What do you think?”
I turned to the doll. Eidolon was sat on the floor, her white porcelain skin glinting in the sunlight. Her head was looking down, obscured by her large-rimmed top hat, long blonde hair falling past her shoulders.
The doorbell rang. I sighed, and went to meet the poor sod who wanted to see me first. They didn’t even give me time to get everything unpacked.
The first victim was a small child, a scruffy looking lad with his teen brother. Their souls burned behind dulled eyes. “Hi!” He said, all toothy smiles and blunt gaze. He held up what looked like a pale cheesecake. I’ll admit, I’m not some foodie, so I wouldn’t know a cheesecake from a meringue.
“Hey,” I said. An awkward pause grew between us.
“Mum made this for you!” The kid continued. Not one centimetre of his expression changed.
“May I ask what it is?”
“Lemon meringue!” He nearly shouted. “Mum made it especially for you!”
“Ah.” I took it with all the grace I could. The elder brother stared at me, looking like a picture-perfect straight-A student. I wished he could return to whatever hole in the Uncanny Valley he crawled from. Once in my hands, I thanked him, saying I’ll have some for my tea.
Once they were gone, I sighed, and took the meringue into the fridge. I’d have to send it to Holly later.
The next delivery was two hours later. This time it was a house wife, pearly whites bared in a facsimile of happiness.
“Hello!” She greeted, “how *are* you? I just heard you came into the neighbourhood, and I wanted to give you a moving in gift!”
“Oh?” I said. Then I looked down at the proffered offering. “Oh.”
I didn’t sound the least bit enthused, but I took it anyway. More lemon meringue.
“Why don’t you try some?”
I was irked. The kid hadn’t been insistent. “Ah, I’ll have some later. Just trying to get some stuff in their proper places.”
“Sounds like hungry stuff!”
If my face went slack, she gave no indication she noticed. That was the worst attempt at persuasion I had seen, and I’ve seen plenty in my time. “Maybe… uh…” I looked across the street, and a lie came half-formed in my head. “I… kinda have to watch my diet. Sugar plays havoc on my insides, I have to limit it quite badly.”
“Oh, no.” She said sympathetically. “That’s awful.”
“I might be able to have some later,” I reassured, “I think I’ve been good enough this week to risk it.”
“Oh, that’s good!” She said, “Why not try some now?”
*Oh deary fucking me.* “Perhaps later? I don’t want to risk a dash to the loo while carrying something heavy.
That was enough to send her on my way, and I added the offending item with its kin. Once dealt with, I turned to the still motionless Eidolon.
“’Loo?’ The fuck is wrong with me? And you? Obviously, I don’t want it to be the kid, but her? Really?” I sighed. “Well, better get this shitshow on the road and hope she comes. I’d rather not have Holly butt in again on a job.”
Again and again, they came. A happy couple, an old woman, some tech monkey, a flirty goth girl (I’ll admit, she had good taste). Each time, they came with meringues of the lemon variety. Each time I’d make up one lie or another, often recycling old ones to weave a narrative of a poor sod challenged by a strict diet. And each time, Eidolon would sit, just out of sight as my frustrations grew.
Fuck, if I hated people. More so when they had the persistence to stand there, minutes straight, trying their damndest to get me to eat some piece of crap that no one in their right mind would make, let alone touch with a *ten foot barge pole*!
And every single time they came, I was set back. I wanted this house *ready*, damn it!
So when the bell rang as evening came around, I seriously contemplated sending a few bullets through the damn door as a way of telling them to fuck off. As it was, there was something wrong with the presence outside the door. From behind me, *finally*, there was a noise, the sound of a shoe scraping the floor. I glared at door, put on an affable air, and opened it.
A wizened old crone stood outside in the dying light, looking as if she had a wrinkle for every year of life. She had one of those bloody meringues in her hands.
But that didn’t grab my attention. It was her eyes. They were empty.
“Hello, deary.” She croaked. “I’m your neighbour.”
*So’s everyone else, you old bag*. I thought. Well, if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, and then struck the most bizarre pose I could think of in that moment.
“I, Lazarus Gheist, welcome you to my home! Behold, Eidolon Step!”
Eidolon Step came barging down the hall, and leapt past me, knocking the old bint over. I closed the door while I let them have at each other, listening to the rabid screams of whatever the hag was.
To be fair I *was* cut out for demon hunting… I just really didn’t like sitting on my ass waiting for them to come to me.
|
After months of searching for a new apartment, I found an incredible offer in a seemingly peaceful neighborhood. The previous owner was obviously desperate to sell the house, setting the price so low. He refused any personal contact and left the keys under the doormat.
I put down my bags and headed into the kitchen to tame my hunger. I opened the fridge and served myself some delicious tuna. I sat down at the table and noticed a piece of paper neatly folded on the table. While hastily shoving tuna into my mouth I opened the note and almost choked on my meal. It read: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.”
*What is this? Some kind of joke?*, I thought to myself, *I love meringue pie.. how can I resist it?* I didn’t give it much more thought and promptly forgot all about it.
A few moments later I heard a knock on the door. I am always lazy as hell after I finish my meal so I just ignored it. The knocking continued for five minutes getting progressively louder every minute. I almost gave in and moved my body towards the door when it finally stopped. The sense of relief I felt was so strong I immediately fell asleep.
I dreamt the most vivid dreams about lemon meringue and it tasted better than any other I had ever eaten. It seemed like it would have lasted forever if it wasn’t for another loud knocking that woke me up.
I was angry and filled with the urge for some lemon pie. I bitterly walked to the door and fiercely opened them. Before me stood a small girl with a big lemon meringue pie in her hands.
“Hello mister.. This is a lemon merin-” “I know exactly what it is!” I intervened and pulled the pie from her hands and shut the door. *Fuck yes,* I thought while walking back to the kitchen to eat up this delicious pack of a finely prepared piece of heaven.
I sit down and just before I plunge my spoon deep inside this delightfully juicy pie I saw that same little girl staring at me from a window, holding up a sign that said “Please eat the pie. It is very good.”
*THE NERVE,* I thought and threw the pie directly into the window. The moment it made contact with the glass, the pie exploded into deadly shrapnels which I avoided just by an inch. I didn’t duck or anything… I was just lucky as fuck. The same could not be said for the rude little girl standing in front of the window. Or should I say… ‘splattered’ around the house.
I approach the area of the explosion to examine the damage and what I saw shocked me. There was not a single edible piece of lemon pie left. What surprised me was that there was no blood anywhere. *The girl must have escaped,* I thought, but soon realized there was a lot of metal and electronic pieces all around the yard. It was clear as a day… The girl was a robot.
Another knock on the door. I knew what to expect now so I prepared and blindfolded myself. I could not control myself if I saw another lemon pie.
I opened the door and kicked as hard as I could. A short squeal and a loud thud followed. I victoriously removed the blindfold just to see an old woman lying on the ground with a big cheesecake in her lap. I was utterly shocked and depressed. I always detested cheesecakes. *People are so inconsiderate,* I thought and swiftly shut the door.
I decided to think things over when, through the door window, I saw a whole army of people holding a lemon meringue pie in their hands making their way towards my new beautiful house.
I walked to my bag, pulled out my shotgun, and put on my bulletproof vest. I decided then and there to put an end to this horrific oppression and find myself some sweet meringue pie.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I turned to the door and opened it. A kind old woman stood there holding a parcel.
"I saw you move in today, so I made you some lemon meringue pie!" she said with a cheerful smile.
I smiled gently at her and accepted the parcel. I recalled the letter, "A coincidence," I thought.
"Thank you for the pie, the name is Jared, Jared Duncan," I said with a smile.
The old woman nodded, "Come by anytime!" she said with a slight grin.
I nodded and closed the door as she left. Moving my hand to take a piece of the pie. I froze, recalling the letter.
"It can wait until dinner," I muttered, and placed the pie in a newly unpacked fridge.
Just as I walked to sit on my couch, the doorbell rang again. With a groan, I walked back to the door, wiping the look of displeasure from my face, I greeted the young man outside with a smile.
"My wife made some lemon meringue pie to welcome you to the neighborhood, my house is over there!" he said as he pointed to the house across the street, "Come by anytime!"
The smile on my face froze, before I fluidly accepted the gift and sent him off.
Once was a coincidence, twice couldn't be. Maybe it was a slightly elaborate prank set up by the neighborhood, a welcoming gag perhaps?
Shaking my head, I placed the second pie in the fridge with the first one. "Just in case," I thought.
A few moments later the door rang yet again, and sure enough another neighbor had brought him that pie. The visits continued for about an hour, the fridge was now filled with ten of those meringue pies.
These people seem to go all out for a prank I thought, shaking my head, refusing to acknowledge the faint unease that gripped me. Yet I didn't eat any of those pies that day.
"Just wondering about it isn't going to get me anywhere," he thought, the next morning. I got dressed and went over to the young man's house across the street. The silent atmosphere of neighborhood that initially seemed appealing now felt stifling.
I knocked on the door. A strange sound reassembling a zipline sounded out and a young woman opened the door.
She smiled, "You must be out new neighbor."
I gave her a slightly forced smile, "My name is Jared Duncan"
"I know, my husband told me" she said with a grin. That was odd, I don't recall telling the man my name yesterday. I shrugged it off, thinking I probably just forgot.
"Umm, listen. About those lemon meringue pies.." I began.
"Have you eaten them yet?" She asked a little too eagerly.
I brushed off the feeling as paranoia, and shook my head.
She looked slightly disappointed, "Eat them soon or they will spoil"
I nodded and went back to my new house. Wasn't there a law that said the seller of the house had to disclose any problems with the neighborhood? The guy hadn't said anything then, so why would now be any different.
As I walked off the driveway, a faint sound reassembling that of a zipline sounded out again. I turned my head and looked back at the house, "Paranoia," I told myself and walked back to my house.
I took out a pie, a little pie never hurt anyone. As I cut into it an archaic aura seemed to fill the room. Feeling uneasy, I set aside the pie and put it back into the fridge. The next day I went to a pet shop in my car. I bought two hamsters and went back home. The two of them squeaked endlessly until I entered my neighborhood, the sudden silence startled me. I turned back and saw the two hamsters curled up in corners of their cage.
They became lively again after entering my house, so I shook off the incident. I took out a piece of the pie I cut yesterday and fed it to a hamster. As I turned to put away the pie, the a sound of a zipline resounded around the room, I turned back, but the hamster that eat the pie was gone. I quickly put away the pie and looked around the house.
A few minutes later I found the hamster in another room. It was squeaking just as before. I sighed in relief and placed the hamster in my hand before lightly dropping it in its cage. The other hamster noticed the return of his companion and seemed to scuttle up to the hamster to greet him. As soon as he got close, the other hamster let out a high pitch sqeal, scuttle back to the corner it came from.
A look of terror seemed to fill the hamsters eyes.
|
It was so nice to finally be somewhere *normal*. No explosions, no invasions, no vampires, werewolves, what-the-fuck-ever you call someone who turns into a four hundred pound hulking lion at three thirty-three in the morning--for thirty minutes. No, all of that is behind me now. Now I'm in my little house in a nice, calm *normal* suburban neighborhood. It even has a white picket fence! Perfect.
As I carry the first box into the kitchen I see the note, hastily written in smeared ink, on the counter. I pick it up and read, *"Today all off your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE."*
Huh. That's weird. I put the note back where I found it, and the doorbell rings. "Just a moment!" I call as I set the box down. I go to the front door and open it to see a brightly smiling couple, with their 2.5 kids in tow. *Normal*. The woman looks at me and trills, "Welcome to the neighborhood!"
"Thank you!" I say with a warm smile of my own. See? Normal *and* welcoming; everything I hoped for. Daydreams dance in my head of neighborhood barbecues like I used to enjoy as a child.
I want to go back and smack myself for being such a moody little brat. Baby me had no idea how good that bland, *normal* life was.
"It's part of a tradition," the other woman says with an arm around the first, "To give our neighbors a treat. A 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift, if you will."
There's a neighborhood tradition! And it doesn't involve garlic, silver, or catnip! "Oh, thank you!" I say as I take the foil covered plate from them. "What is it?"
"Lemon Meringue pie."
The world freezes for me for a moment. Lemon meringue pie? Like the note?
"Oh, lovely," I say.
"Have a bite," suggests the woman.
Thinking fast I say, "I would, but according to my diet I'm not supposed to eat any kind of sweets until seven pm." And then, for just an added touch of sincerity, "And then only for fifteen minutes. But this looks delightful," I tell them looking at the mouth-watering pie, "so I'll set aside for then. Thank you!" I tell them closing the door. I take the pie back to the kitchen and put it on the counter.
The doorbell rings just as I'm staring at the perfectly browned meringue. I go back to the door. An older woman in a floral housecoat sands there, holding--another meringue pie. "Welcome to the neighborhood!" the woman trills in exactly the same way that the first one did. "I made you a pie!"
I can feel the dream of normalcy cracking around me. "Key lime?" I ask hopefully.
She laughs. "No, Dear," she says brightly. "Lemon meringue!"
Of course it is. "Thank you," I say with a smile. If nothing else over the past three years, I've learned how to fake a warm smile.
"You should have a piece," she says eagerly. Too eagerly. "You must be famished, what with the move and all," she adds slyly.
I repeat the bit about my fake diet and take the pie to the kitchen to put it next to the first one. The first pie that, sadly is separating. The meringue is weeping amber drops of fluid as it shrinks. It's heartbreaking. Still looks good though--but the note.
The doorbell rings. Rinse and repeat the first two times. When I take the third pie to the kitchen I notice that the meringue of the second pie is also separating.
Enough. Time to get to the bottom of this. I dig through the kitchen boxes until I find my silverware, grab a knife, and go back to the pies. Pie number three is starting to separate, although it doesn't look nearly as bad as pies one and two.
I take the knife and lever the meringue off pie number one. A small creature, rather like a two tentacled octopus, is in the middle of the pie, It draws itself into a small blob and blinks at me.
I go and bang my head on a nearby cabinet. Fuck my life.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I looked over the note. Then again. It was simple, but… troubling. Still, this old house was quite cosy, and would more than make up for the trouble. It wasn’t often I was paid before doing the job, and I couldn’t complain. That said, the fact people were going to offer me lemon meringue pies was… ugh.
“I suppose that’s what happened to the last guy.” I muttered. “What do you think?”
I turned to the doll. Eidolon was sat on the floor, her white porcelain skin glinting in the sunlight. Her head was looking down, obscured by her large-rimmed top hat, long blonde hair falling past her shoulders.
The doorbell rang. I sighed, and went to meet the poor sod who wanted to see me first. They didn’t even give me time to get everything unpacked.
The first victim was a small child, a scruffy looking lad with his teen brother. Their souls burned behind dulled eyes. “Hi!” He said, all toothy smiles and blunt gaze. He held up what looked like a pale cheesecake. I’ll admit, I’m not some foodie, so I wouldn’t know a cheesecake from a meringue.
“Hey,” I said. An awkward pause grew between us.
“Mum made this for you!” The kid continued. Not one centimetre of his expression changed.
“May I ask what it is?”
“Lemon meringue!” He nearly shouted. “Mum made it especially for you!”
“Ah.” I took it with all the grace I could. The elder brother stared at me, looking like a picture-perfect straight-A student. I wished he could return to whatever hole in the Uncanny Valley he crawled from. Once in my hands, I thanked him, saying I’ll have some for my tea.
Once they were gone, I sighed, and took the meringue into the fridge. I’d have to send it to Holly later.
The next delivery was two hours later. This time it was a house wife, pearly whites bared in a facsimile of happiness.
“Hello!” She greeted, “how *are* you? I just heard you came into the neighbourhood, and I wanted to give you a moving in gift!”
“Oh?” I said. Then I looked down at the proffered offering. “Oh.”
I didn’t sound the least bit enthused, but I took it anyway. More lemon meringue.
“Why don’t you try some?”
I was irked. The kid hadn’t been insistent. “Ah, I’ll have some later. Just trying to get some stuff in their proper places.”
“Sounds like hungry stuff!”
If my face went slack, she gave no indication she noticed. That was the worst attempt at persuasion I had seen, and I’ve seen plenty in my time. “Maybe… uh…” I looked across the street, and a lie came half-formed in my head. “I… kinda have to watch my diet. Sugar plays havoc on my insides, I have to limit it quite badly.”
“Oh, no.” She said sympathetically. “That’s awful.”
“I might be able to have some later,” I reassured, “I think I’ve been good enough this week to risk it.”
“Oh, that’s good!” She said, “Why not try some now?”
*Oh deary fucking me.* “Perhaps later? I don’t want to risk a dash to the loo while carrying something heavy.
That was enough to send her on my way, and I added the offending item with its kin. Once dealt with, I turned to the still motionless Eidolon.
“’Loo?’ The fuck is wrong with me? And you? Obviously, I don’t want it to be the kid, but her? Really?” I sighed. “Well, better get this shitshow on the road and hope she comes. I’d rather not have Holly butt in again on a job.”
Again and again, they came. A happy couple, an old woman, some tech monkey, a flirty goth girl (I’ll admit, she had good taste). Each time, they came with meringues of the lemon variety. Each time I’d make up one lie or another, often recycling old ones to weave a narrative of a poor sod challenged by a strict diet. And each time, Eidolon would sit, just out of sight as my frustrations grew.
Fuck, if I hated people. More so when they had the persistence to stand there, minutes straight, trying their damndest to get me to eat some piece of crap that no one in their right mind would make, let alone touch with a *ten foot barge pole*!
And every single time they came, I was set back. I wanted this house *ready*, damn it!
So when the bell rang as evening came around, I seriously contemplated sending a few bullets through the damn door as a way of telling them to fuck off. As it was, there was something wrong with the presence outside the door. From behind me, *finally*, there was a noise, the sound of a shoe scraping the floor. I glared at door, put on an affable air, and opened it.
A wizened old crone stood outside in the dying light, looking as if she had a wrinkle for every year of life. She had one of those bloody meringues in her hands.
But that didn’t grab my attention. It was her eyes. They were empty.
“Hello, deary.” She croaked. “I’m your neighbour.”
*So’s everyone else, you old bag*. I thought. Well, if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, and then struck the most bizarre pose I could think of in that moment.
“I, Lazarus Gheist, welcome you to my home! Behold, Eidolon Step!”
Eidolon Step came barging down the hall, and leapt past me, knocking the old bint over. I closed the door while I let them have at each other, listening to the rabid screams of whatever the hag was.
To be fair I *was* cut out for demon hunting… I just really didn’t like sitting on my ass waiting for them to come to me.
|
It was so nice to finally be somewhere *normal*. No explosions, no invasions, no vampires, werewolves, what-the-fuck-ever you call someone who turns into a four hundred pound hulking lion at three thirty-three in the morning--for thirty minutes. No, all of that is behind me now. Now I'm in my little house in a nice, calm *normal* suburban neighborhood. It even has a white picket fence! Perfect.
As I carry the first box into the kitchen I see the note, hastily written in smeared ink, on the counter. I pick it up and read, *"Today all off your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE."*
Huh. That's weird. I put the note back where I found it, and the doorbell rings. "Just a moment!" I call as I set the box down. I go to the front door and open it to see a brightly smiling couple, with their 2.5 kids in tow. *Normal*. The woman looks at me and trills, "Welcome to the neighborhood!"
"Thank you!" I say with a warm smile of my own. See? Normal *and* welcoming; everything I hoped for. Daydreams dance in my head of neighborhood barbecues like I used to enjoy as a child.
I want to go back and smack myself for being such a moody little brat. Baby me had no idea how good that bland, *normal* life was.
"It's part of a tradition," the other woman says with an arm around the first, "To give our neighbors a treat. A 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift, if you will."
There's a neighborhood tradition! And it doesn't involve garlic, silver, or catnip! "Oh, thank you!" I say as I take the foil covered plate from them. "What is it?"
"Lemon Meringue pie."
The world freezes for me for a moment. Lemon meringue pie? Like the note?
"Oh, lovely," I say.
"Have a bite," suggests the woman.
Thinking fast I say, "I would, but according to my diet I'm not supposed to eat any kind of sweets until seven pm." And then, for just an added touch of sincerity, "And then only for fifteen minutes. But this looks delightful," I tell them looking at the mouth-watering pie, "so I'll set aside for then. Thank you!" I tell them closing the door. I take the pie back to the kitchen and put it on the counter.
The doorbell rings just as I'm staring at the perfectly browned meringue. I go back to the door. An older woman in a floral housecoat sands there, holding--another meringue pie. "Welcome to the neighborhood!" the woman trills in exactly the same way that the first one did. "I made you a pie!"
I can feel the dream of normalcy cracking around me. "Key lime?" I ask hopefully.
She laughs. "No, Dear," she says brightly. "Lemon meringue!"
Of course it is. "Thank you," I say with a smile. If nothing else over the past three years, I've learned how to fake a warm smile.
"You should have a piece," she says eagerly. Too eagerly. "You must be famished, what with the move and all," she adds slyly.
I repeat the bit about my fake diet and take the pie to the kitchen to put it next to the first one. The first pie that, sadly is separating. The meringue is weeping amber drops of fluid as it shrinks. It's heartbreaking. Still looks good though--but the note.
The doorbell rings. Rinse and repeat the first two times. When I take the third pie to the kitchen I notice that the meringue of the second pie is also separating.
Enough. Time to get to the bottom of this. I dig through the kitchen boxes until I find my silverware, grab a knife, and go back to the pies. Pie number three is starting to separate, although it doesn't look nearly as bad as pies one and two.
I take the knife and lever the meringue off pie number one. A small creature, rather like a two tentacled octopus, is in the middle of the pie, It draws itself into a small blob and blinks at me.
I go and bang my head on a nearby cabinet. Fuck my life.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
A suburban peace inhabited the marble-white villas of the town, restoring some dreamy solitude to its houses and gardens. I idled by a row of Venetian windows, half-conscious in my daydream, overseeing this spell of neighborhood fantasy.
"Hello?" the voice called again, slightly darkened with impatience.
"Coming!" I replied.
A young lady awaited me at the door. Slender, svelte, and fair-haired, she spoke and moved with a carefree exuberance.
"You're new here, aren't you?" she inquired. "Please accept this gift."
The woman placed a small canister in my hands. "Lemon meringue pie."
"Thank you," I replied, returning my fullest courtesy.
"Well? Take a bite."
I eyed her cautiously. Her figure seemed innocuous enough, though what intent her face concealed, I could not say.
"I'll eat it . . . later," I answered. "I feel a bit queasy right now."
Hers eyes grew inimical. "No, *here* please. It's a gesture of my neighborly love."
My palms brimmed with sweat. I reached for the pie and brought it to my mouth.
"Now swallow." Her expression seemed to have relaxed.
I crammed the pie in my mouth, feeling the flavor of lemon custard perforate my throat. I chewed, paused, and swallowed.
"Good," the woman said, her face adopting a fabulous glow.
Then, leaning toward me, she confided, "It was all a prank—the previous owner was in it too. You have to admit, pretty funny huh? Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood!"
|
It was a nice house, on a nice quiet street. Had got it fairly cheap since the backyard was somewhat smaller than average, but I didn't mind much. I'm not a garden person at the best of times. Just a nice house, with a ground floor, a decent basement, a recently redecorated kitchen, and other great things. So when I settled down after I'd moved in my meagre possessions, I was surprised to find inside the fridge, that a note had been left behind by the previous owner.
It said, *Today, all of your neighbours will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.* I put the note down on the table next to the sandwich I was going to eat. And as I did that, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the door to find a couple of smiling people. They introduced themselves to me as my new neighbours. I shook their hand, and they offered me a lemon meringue pie as a welcoming gift. They insisted that I should eat it, that it was the best pie in the state, and that I needed some meat on my skinny body.
At which point I slammed my arms volleyball-style into the pie's tin bottom, sending it flying into the air, as the astonished couple stared incredulously at me. I then told them both to go away, and slammed the door in their faces. Not fifteen minutes later, an old lady rang the doorbell, and I introduced myself politely, and when she offered me a lemon meringue pie, I took it, and in the style of traditional clown antics, threw it into her face.
The old woman screamed in agony as the pie started to dissolve her face. I nodded to myself, happy that I listened to that note. I knew there were rumours of an extremist pie-based death cult around these parts, but I had no idea they were so prevalent. So I went into my house, and unpacked my army gear. I got into my old uniform, took out my service rifle and my ammo. And of course also brought out the vast number of things I brought with me from my time serving as a PMC with explosive skills. Sure, in the army I'd been a recon sniper guy, but when I went private, I became an explosive guy, because it pays better.
And I had a lot of leftover claymores from my time in various third-world states. So I set up a reasonable defence of my new house, as countless people were coming to me, all armed with dangerously acidic pies. It was an epic fight, or at the very least a highly bloody one. Their initial charge was broken completely by the landmines and claymores I'd placed around my property. Then I climbed on my flat roof, and went to work. Just like in the stories my aunt Choi Hanuel told me from when she worked in Los Angeles in 1992.
And from there I defended my property against the onslaught of pie cultists, long into the night, until I called my boss and asked for some assistance. Sure, I was on temporary leave, but the company looks out for their own. So as my mines were running out, and my ammunition was nearing the last clip, I could but smile as I heard the company's jeeps coming. I put on my gas mask, affixed a bayonet to my rifle, and went charging into the pie cultists as my comrades began torching the town.
They were out of pies at that point and were using knives, axes, and guns, so I wasn't worried about getting dissolved. The guys drove to me, and formed a protective circle around me with their jeeps. They then gave me more ammo, and together, we put an end to the pie cultists for ever.
I wouldn't actually have ever eaten the pie, I'm allergic. But I wouldn't have had to begin the purge of this cult of sugary pastries, if I hadn't found the note. Whoever wrote it is probably dead anyway. So perhaps I gave the victims of this meringue cult some rest or justice.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I looked over the note. Then again. It was simple, but… troubling. Still, this old house was quite cosy, and would more than make up for the trouble. It wasn’t often I was paid before doing the job, and I couldn’t complain. That said, the fact people were going to offer me lemon meringue pies was… ugh.
“I suppose that’s what happened to the last guy.” I muttered. “What do you think?”
I turned to the doll. Eidolon was sat on the floor, her white porcelain skin glinting in the sunlight. Her head was looking down, obscured by her large-rimmed top hat, long blonde hair falling past her shoulders.
The doorbell rang. I sighed, and went to meet the poor sod who wanted to see me first. They didn’t even give me time to get everything unpacked.
The first victim was a small child, a scruffy looking lad with his teen brother. Their souls burned behind dulled eyes. “Hi!” He said, all toothy smiles and blunt gaze. He held up what looked like a pale cheesecake. I’ll admit, I’m not some foodie, so I wouldn’t know a cheesecake from a meringue.
“Hey,” I said. An awkward pause grew between us.
“Mum made this for you!” The kid continued. Not one centimetre of his expression changed.
“May I ask what it is?”
“Lemon meringue!” He nearly shouted. “Mum made it especially for you!”
“Ah.” I took it with all the grace I could. The elder brother stared at me, looking like a picture-perfect straight-A student. I wished he could return to whatever hole in the Uncanny Valley he crawled from. Once in my hands, I thanked him, saying I’ll have some for my tea.
Once they were gone, I sighed, and took the meringue into the fridge. I’d have to send it to Holly later.
The next delivery was two hours later. This time it was a house wife, pearly whites bared in a facsimile of happiness.
“Hello!” She greeted, “how *are* you? I just heard you came into the neighbourhood, and I wanted to give you a moving in gift!”
“Oh?” I said. Then I looked down at the proffered offering. “Oh.”
I didn’t sound the least bit enthused, but I took it anyway. More lemon meringue.
“Why don’t you try some?”
I was irked. The kid hadn’t been insistent. “Ah, I’ll have some later. Just trying to get some stuff in their proper places.”
“Sounds like hungry stuff!”
If my face went slack, she gave no indication she noticed. That was the worst attempt at persuasion I had seen, and I’ve seen plenty in my time. “Maybe… uh…” I looked across the street, and a lie came half-formed in my head. “I… kinda have to watch my diet. Sugar plays havoc on my insides, I have to limit it quite badly.”
“Oh, no.” She said sympathetically. “That’s awful.”
“I might be able to have some later,” I reassured, “I think I’ve been good enough this week to risk it.”
“Oh, that’s good!” She said, “Why not try some now?”
*Oh deary fucking me.* “Perhaps later? I don’t want to risk a dash to the loo while carrying something heavy.
That was enough to send her on my way, and I added the offending item with its kin. Once dealt with, I turned to the still motionless Eidolon.
“’Loo?’ The fuck is wrong with me? And you? Obviously, I don’t want it to be the kid, but her? Really?” I sighed. “Well, better get this shitshow on the road and hope she comes. I’d rather not have Holly butt in again on a job.”
Again and again, they came. A happy couple, an old woman, some tech monkey, a flirty goth girl (I’ll admit, she had good taste). Each time, they came with meringues of the lemon variety. Each time I’d make up one lie or another, often recycling old ones to weave a narrative of a poor sod challenged by a strict diet. And each time, Eidolon would sit, just out of sight as my frustrations grew.
Fuck, if I hated people. More so when they had the persistence to stand there, minutes straight, trying their damndest to get me to eat some piece of crap that no one in their right mind would make, let alone touch with a *ten foot barge pole*!
And every single time they came, I was set back. I wanted this house *ready*, damn it!
So when the bell rang as evening came around, I seriously contemplated sending a few bullets through the damn door as a way of telling them to fuck off. As it was, there was something wrong with the presence outside the door. From behind me, *finally*, there was a noise, the sound of a shoe scraping the floor. I glared at door, put on an affable air, and opened it.
A wizened old crone stood outside in the dying light, looking as if she had a wrinkle for every year of life. She had one of those bloody meringues in her hands.
But that didn’t grab my attention. It was her eyes. They were empty.
“Hello, deary.” She croaked. “I’m your neighbour.”
*So’s everyone else, you old bag*. I thought. Well, if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, and then struck the most bizarre pose I could think of in that moment.
“I, Lazarus Gheist, welcome you to my home! Behold, Eidolon Step!”
Eidolon Step came barging down the hall, and leapt past me, knocking the old bint over. I closed the door while I let them have at each other, listening to the rabid screams of whatever the hag was.
To be fair I *was* cut out for demon hunting… I just really didn’t like sitting on my ass waiting for them to come to me.
|
It was a nice house, on a nice quiet street. Had got it fairly cheap since the backyard was somewhat smaller than average, but I didn't mind much. I'm not a garden person at the best of times. Just a nice house, with a ground floor, a decent basement, a recently redecorated kitchen, and other great things. So when I settled down after I'd moved in my meagre possessions, I was surprised to find inside the fridge, that a note had been left behind by the previous owner.
It said, *Today, all of your neighbours will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.* I put the note down on the table next to the sandwich I was going to eat. And as I did that, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the door to find a couple of smiling people. They introduced themselves to me as my new neighbours. I shook their hand, and they offered me a lemon meringue pie as a welcoming gift. They insisted that I should eat it, that it was the best pie in the state, and that I needed some meat on my skinny body.
At which point I slammed my arms volleyball-style into the pie's tin bottom, sending it flying into the air, as the astonished couple stared incredulously at me. I then told them both to go away, and slammed the door in their faces. Not fifteen minutes later, an old lady rang the doorbell, and I introduced myself politely, and when she offered me a lemon meringue pie, I took it, and in the style of traditional clown antics, threw it into her face.
The old woman screamed in agony as the pie started to dissolve her face. I nodded to myself, happy that I listened to that note. I knew there were rumours of an extremist pie-based death cult around these parts, but I had no idea they were so prevalent. So I went into my house, and unpacked my army gear. I got into my old uniform, took out my service rifle and my ammo. And of course also brought out the vast number of things I brought with me from my time serving as a PMC with explosive skills. Sure, in the army I'd been a recon sniper guy, but when I went private, I became an explosive guy, because it pays better.
And I had a lot of leftover claymores from my time in various third-world states. So I set up a reasonable defence of my new house, as countless people were coming to me, all armed with dangerously acidic pies. It was an epic fight, or at the very least a highly bloody one. Their initial charge was broken completely by the landmines and claymores I'd placed around my property. Then I climbed on my flat roof, and went to work. Just like in the stories my aunt Choi Hanuel told me from when she worked in Los Angeles in 1992.
And from there I defended my property against the onslaught of pie cultists, long into the night, until I called my boss and asked for some assistance. Sure, I was on temporary leave, but the company looks out for their own. So as my mines were running out, and my ammunition was nearing the last clip, I could but smile as I heard the company's jeeps coming. I put on my gas mask, affixed a bayonet to my rifle, and went charging into the pie cultists as my comrades began torching the town.
They were out of pies at that point and were using knives, axes, and guns, so I wasn't worried about getting dissolved. The guys drove to me, and formed a protective circle around me with their jeeps. They then gave me more ammo, and together, we put an end to the pie cultists for ever.
I wouldn't actually have ever eaten the pie, I'm allergic. But I wouldn't have had to begin the purge of this cult of sugary pastries, if I hadn't found the note. Whoever wrote it is probably dead anyway. So perhaps I gave the victims of this meringue cult some rest or justice.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I settled down in the house as I saw the note. I didn't take much note of it, since I had no allergies, and the note was suspicious in the first place. After a while, I heard the doorbell ring. I hadn't seen their faces before, so this was a strange occurrence. I had made sure to meet and greet all the neighbors beforehand, and knowing that, as well as seeing them have a lemon meringue pie in their hands, was quite suspicious. They welcomed me to the neighborhood, and offered me the pie. I had social anxiety, so out of pure good will, I accepted. I placed the pie on my counter top, as I sat down to watch TV. Later, I heard the doorbell ring again. I got up to open the door, to see another pair of people with a pie. I told them that while I appreciate it, I had already gotten a pie. The neighbors looked at me with a frustrated face, and told me I could save this pie for later. I begrudgingly accepted, as I placed the pie next to the other. A little while later, I started to notice a very strong smell coming from the pies. It was the type of smell that would make your tongue sweat and your nose melt. I couldn't help myself. What could a small piece do? I snapped off a piece of the crust and ate it. My face wrinkled in disgust, as I spit it out. I understood the note now. The neighbors were terrible cooks.
|
It was a nice house, on a nice quiet street. Had got it fairly cheap since the backyard was somewhat smaller than average, but I didn't mind much. I'm not a garden person at the best of times. Just a nice house, with a ground floor, a decent basement, a recently redecorated kitchen, and other great things. So when I settled down after I'd moved in my meagre possessions, I was surprised to find inside the fridge, that a note had been left behind by the previous owner.
It said, *Today, all of your neighbours will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.* I put the note down on the table next to the sandwich I was going to eat. And as I did that, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the door to find a couple of smiling people. They introduced themselves to me as my new neighbours. I shook their hand, and they offered me a lemon meringue pie as a welcoming gift. They insisted that I should eat it, that it was the best pie in the state, and that I needed some meat on my skinny body.
At which point I slammed my arms volleyball-style into the pie's tin bottom, sending it flying into the air, as the astonished couple stared incredulously at me. I then told them both to go away, and slammed the door in their faces. Not fifteen minutes later, an old lady rang the doorbell, and I introduced myself politely, and when she offered me a lemon meringue pie, I took it, and in the style of traditional clown antics, threw it into her face.
The old woman screamed in agony as the pie started to dissolve her face. I nodded to myself, happy that I listened to that note. I knew there were rumours of an extremist pie-based death cult around these parts, but I had no idea they were so prevalent. So I went into my house, and unpacked my army gear. I got into my old uniform, took out my service rifle and my ammo. And of course also brought out the vast number of things I brought with me from my time serving as a PMC with explosive skills. Sure, in the army I'd been a recon sniper guy, but when I went private, I became an explosive guy, because it pays better.
And I had a lot of leftover claymores from my time in various third-world states. So I set up a reasonable defence of my new house, as countless people were coming to me, all armed with dangerously acidic pies. It was an epic fight, or at the very least a highly bloody one. Their initial charge was broken completely by the landmines and claymores I'd placed around my property. Then I climbed on my flat roof, and went to work. Just like in the stories my aunt Choi Hanuel told me from when she worked in Los Angeles in 1992.
And from there I defended my property against the onslaught of pie cultists, long into the night, until I called my boss and asked for some assistance. Sure, I was on temporary leave, but the company looks out for their own. So as my mines were running out, and my ammunition was nearing the last clip, I could but smile as I heard the company's jeeps coming. I put on my gas mask, affixed a bayonet to my rifle, and went charging into the pie cultists as my comrades began torching the town.
They were out of pies at that point and were using knives, axes, and guns, so I wasn't worried about getting dissolved. The guys drove to me, and formed a protective circle around me with their jeeps. They then gave me more ammo, and together, we put an end to the pie cultists for ever.
I wouldn't actually have ever eaten the pie, I'm allergic. But I wouldn't have had to begin the purge of this cult of sugary pastries, if I hadn't found the note. Whoever wrote it is probably dead anyway. So perhaps I gave the victims of this meringue cult some rest or justice.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
They left the note on the dining room table beside a set of spare keys.
I read it once, turned it over to the other side, then tossed it in the kitchen trash. Some bullshit, scaring future owners that way.
The first knock came at a quarter of 3, soft and shy like they weren't really sure they were supposed to be knocking.
"Good afternoon," I said with a pleasant smile when I opened the door.
"Hi there," an old grandma said, must have been about a hundred and ten. "I've brought you some lemon meringue. It's a tradition here in the neighborhood."
She held it out. I didn't take it. She didn't budge. I took the pie.
"Try some, dear," she said, kind as kind could be.
It looked something special. Swirls of white meringue with their tips baked to a light brown. A perfect crust, as delicate as could be.
I frowned, thinking of the note. "I just had lunch."
"Oh, there's always room for dessert. Try some. Here," she said, handing me a fork. "Try some."
She smiled. It stretched too wide. She didn't blink. Not once.
"I will," I said. "I promise. I'll try some in a bit."
Her smile didn't waver. She just nodded. "Okay, dear. That's fine. Please be sure to try some."
I closed the door behind me. Set the lemon meringue pie on the kitchen counter and didn't try a bite. Lying to an old woman came easy as stealing from them, so I wasn't at all concerned. I did fish out the note from the trashcan, gave it another read for good measure.
That's when the second knock came.
It was a couple now, old as well. My parents age, maybe a little older. She looked familiar. Him, not so much. He didn't look all that good either. Like he'd had too many pieces of lemon meringue pie.
"Hi there," the lady said. "I've brought you some lemon meringue. It's a tradition here in the neighborhood."
She held it out. I took it right away.
"Try some," she said.
"I will. I promise. I'll have some in a bit."
"Try some," her husband said. His voice sounded tired. Worn. Like a sugar rush that'd crashed too hard.
I set it on the counter beside the other pie. The meringue was less neat. The crust less crisp. It could have done with a couple more minutes in the oven, not that I was any Gordon Ramsay.
The third knock came just as I stepped away from comparing the two pies side by side.
It was a couple again. Both familiar. Him and her. About my age, plus or minus a couple years. She smiled wide. He did, too. He wasn't tired now. Young and energetic as I was supposed to feel.
"Welcome, neighbor," he said in a kind drawl. "We've brought you some meringue that I hope you'll enjoy."
I shook my head. It looked nothing like the others. As if they'd never made meringue before. The middle sagged. The crust was raw pastry.
"I don't like meringue," I said. *Especially when it looks like that.* My heart raced. Sweat clammed my hands.
"It's lemon meringue, neighbor," she said. "Everybody like lemon meringue."
"I don't," I insisted. I went to close the door but the husband's foot was in the way. "Excuse me," I said.
"Excuse you," he said back, his drawl turning into a dangerous snarl. Still he smiled. Wide. Too wide, as if the corners of his lips so desperately wanted to touch his ears.
"Have some meringue, neighbor," the lady told me.
"I told you, I don't like meringue," I said.
And then their smiles disappeared, their cheeks finally returning to their normal resting state. Together they spoke in perfect harmony, like a bite of perfectly baked meringue with just the right amount of crust combined with lemon.
"If you don't like meringue, neighbor, then we don't like you."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
|
It was a nice house, on a nice quiet street. Had got it fairly cheap since the backyard was somewhat smaller than average, but I didn't mind much. I'm not a garden person at the best of times. Just a nice house, with a ground floor, a decent basement, a recently redecorated kitchen, and other great things. So when I settled down after I'd moved in my meagre possessions, I was surprised to find inside the fridge, that a note had been left behind by the previous owner.
It said, *Today, all of your neighbours will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.* I put the note down on the table next to the sandwich I was going to eat. And as I did that, the doorbell rang. I walked over and opened the door to find a couple of smiling people. They introduced themselves to me as my new neighbours. I shook their hand, and they offered me a lemon meringue pie as a welcoming gift. They insisted that I should eat it, that it was the best pie in the state, and that I needed some meat on my skinny body.
At which point I slammed my arms volleyball-style into the pie's tin bottom, sending it flying into the air, as the astonished couple stared incredulously at me. I then told them both to go away, and slammed the door in their faces. Not fifteen minutes later, an old lady rang the doorbell, and I introduced myself politely, and when she offered me a lemon meringue pie, I took it, and in the style of traditional clown antics, threw it into her face.
The old woman screamed in agony as the pie started to dissolve her face. I nodded to myself, happy that I listened to that note. I knew there were rumours of an extremist pie-based death cult around these parts, but I had no idea they were so prevalent. So I went into my house, and unpacked my army gear. I got into my old uniform, took out my service rifle and my ammo. And of course also brought out the vast number of things I brought with me from my time serving as a PMC with explosive skills. Sure, in the army I'd been a recon sniper guy, but when I went private, I became an explosive guy, because it pays better.
And I had a lot of leftover claymores from my time in various third-world states. So I set up a reasonable defence of my new house, as countless people were coming to me, all armed with dangerously acidic pies. It was an epic fight, or at the very least a highly bloody one. Their initial charge was broken completely by the landmines and claymores I'd placed around my property. Then I climbed on my flat roof, and went to work. Just like in the stories my aunt Choi Hanuel told me from when she worked in Los Angeles in 1992.
And from there I defended my property against the onslaught of pie cultists, long into the night, until I called my boss and asked for some assistance. Sure, I was on temporary leave, but the company looks out for their own. So as my mines were running out, and my ammunition was nearing the last clip, I could but smile as I heard the company's jeeps coming. I put on my gas mask, affixed a bayonet to my rifle, and went charging into the pie cultists as my comrades began torching the town.
They were out of pies at that point and were using knives, axes, and guns, so I wasn't worried about getting dissolved. The guys drove to me, and formed a protective circle around me with their jeeps. They then gave me more ammo, and together, we put an end to the pie cultists for ever.
I wouldn't actually have ever eaten the pie, I'm allergic. But I wouldn't have had to begin the purge of this cult of sugary pastries, if I hadn't found the note. Whoever wrote it is probably dead anyway. So perhaps I gave the victims of this meringue cult some rest or justice.
|
|
[WP] Moving into your new house, you find a note left by the previous owner: “Today, all of your neighbors will stop by throughout the day and offer you a lemon meringue pie. They will heavily insist that you eat it. Whatever you do, DO NOT EAT THE PIE.” As you set down the note, the doorbell rings.
|
I looked over the note. Then again. It was simple, but… troubling. Still, this old house was quite cosy, and would more than make up for the trouble. It wasn’t often I was paid before doing the job, and I couldn’t complain. That said, the fact people were going to offer me lemon meringue pies was… ugh.
“I suppose that’s what happened to the last guy.” I muttered. “What do you think?”
I turned to the doll. Eidolon was sat on the floor, her white porcelain skin glinting in the sunlight. Her head was looking down, obscured by her large-rimmed top hat, long blonde hair falling past her shoulders.
The doorbell rang. I sighed, and went to meet the poor sod who wanted to see me first. They didn’t even give me time to get everything unpacked.
The first victim was a small child, a scruffy looking lad with his teen brother. Their souls burned behind dulled eyes. “Hi!” He said, all toothy smiles and blunt gaze. He held up what looked like a pale cheesecake. I’ll admit, I’m not some foodie, so I wouldn’t know a cheesecake from a meringue.
“Hey,” I said. An awkward pause grew between us.
“Mum made this for you!” The kid continued. Not one centimetre of his expression changed.
“May I ask what it is?”
“Lemon meringue!” He nearly shouted. “Mum made it especially for you!”
“Ah.” I took it with all the grace I could. The elder brother stared at me, looking like a picture-perfect straight-A student. I wished he could return to whatever hole in the Uncanny Valley he crawled from. Once in my hands, I thanked him, saying I’ll have some for my tea.
Once they were gone, I sighed, and took the meringue into the fridge. I’d have to send it to Holly later.
The next delivery was two hours later. This time it was a house wife, pearly whites bared in a facsimile of happiness.
“Hello!” She greeted, “how *are* you? I just heard you came into the neighbourhood, and I wanted to give you a moving in gift!”
“Oh?” I said. Then I looked down at the proffered offering. “Oh.”
I didn’t sound the least bit enthused, but I took it anyway. More lemon meringue.
“Why don’t you try some?”
I was irked. The kid hadn’t been insistent. “Ah, I’ll have some later. Just trying to get some stuff in their proper places.”
“Sounds like hungry stuff!”
If my face went slack, she gave no indication she noticed. That was the worst attempt at persuasion I had seen, and I’ve seen plenty in my time. “Maybe… uh…” I looked across the street, and a lie came half-formed in my head. “I… kinda have to watch my diet. Sugar plays havoc on my insides, I have to limit it quite badly.”
“Oh, no.” She said sympathetically. “That’s awful.”
“I might be able to have some later,” I reassured, “I think I’ve been good enough this week to risk it.”
“Oh, that’s good!” She said, “Why not try some now?”
*Oh deary fucking me.* “Perhaps later? I don’t want to risk a dash to the loo while carrying something heavy.
That was enough to send her on my way, and I added the offending item with its kin. Once dealt with, I turned to the still motionless Eidolon.
“’Loo?’ The fuck is wrong with me? And you? Obviously, I don’t want it to be the kid, but her? Really?” I sighed. “Well, better get this shitshow on the road and hope she comes. I’d rather not have Holly butt in again on a job.”
Again and again, they came. A happy couple, an old woman, some tech monkey, a flirty goth girl (I’ll admit, she had good taste). Each time, they came with meringues of the lemon variety. Each time I’d make up one lie or another, often recycling old ones to weave a narrative of a poor sod challenged by a strict diet. And each time, Eidolon would sit, just out of sight as my frustrations grew.
Fuck, if I hated people. More so when they had the persistence to stand there, minutes straight, trying their damndest to get me to eat some piece of crap that no one in their right mind would make, let alone touch with a *ten foot barge pole*!
And every single time they came, I was set back. I wanted this house *ready*, damn it!
So when the bell rang as evening came around, I seriously contemplated sending a few bullets through the damn door as a way of telling them to fuck off. As it was, there was something wrong with the presence outside the door. From behind me, *finally*, there was a noise, the sound of a shoe scraping the floor. I glared at door, put on an affable air, and opened it.
A wizened old crone stood outside in the dying light, looking as if she had a wrinkle for every year of life. She had one of those bloody meringues in her hands.
But that didn’t grab my attention. It was her eyes. They were empty.
“Hello, deary.” She croaked. “I’m your neighbour.”
*So’s everyone else, you old bag*. I thought. Well, if I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, and then struck the most bizarre pose I could think of in that moment.
“I, Lazarus Gheist, welcome you to my home! Behold, Eidolon Step!”
Eidolon Step came barging down the hall, and leapt past me, knocking the old bint over. I closed the door while I let them have at each other, listening to the rabid screams of whatever the hag was.
To be fair I *was* cut out for demon hunting… I just really didn’t like sitting on my ass waiting for them to come to me.
|
A suburban peace inhabited the marble-white villas of the town, restoring some dreamy solitude to its houses and gardens. I idled by a row of Venetian windows, half-conscious in my daydream, overseeing this spell of neighborhood fantasy.
"Hello?" the voice called again, slightly darkened with impatience.
"Coming!" I replied.
A young lady awaited me at the door. Slender, svelte, and fair-haired, she spoke and moved with a carefree exuberance.
"You're new here, aren't you?" she inquired. "Please accept this gift."
The woman placed a small canister in my hands. "Lemon meringue pie."
"Thank you," I replied, returning my fullest courtesy.
"Well? Take a bite."
I eyed her cautiously. Her figure seemed innocuous enough, though what intent her face concealed, I could not say.
"I'll eat it . . . later," I answered. "I feel a bit queasy right now."
Hers eyes grew inimical. "No, *here* please. It's a gesture of my neighborly love."
My palms brimmed with sweat. I reached for the pie and brought it to my mouth.
"Now swallow." Her expression seemed to have relaxed.
I crammed the pie in my mouth, feeling the flavor of lemon custard perforate my throat. I chewed, paused, and swallowed.
"Good," the woman said, her face adopting a fabulous glow.
Then, leaning toward me, she confided, "It was all a prank—the previous owner was in it too. You have to admit, pretty funny huh? Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood!"
|
|
[WP] This rain washes away people's ability to lie. Things around the world start to get crazy, especially when some of the most powerful people lose their filter.
|
It was raining today.
Who knew that these simple words brang fear into the most powerful people in the world.
Ember was quite amused, frankly. These people had lied, backstabbed, and cheated their way into politics and power, and to see them like this, scared of a couple drops of rain, was a moment she was going to cherish forever.
But she had a job to do. Keep herself safe in this bunker, stay out of sight, don't attract attention. Let one drop of rain touch her, and everything is doomed, all the plans *doomed*.
It was getting boring, she thought, staring at these terrible men and women in the bunker, waiting for one to snap. Watching the news, waiting for the time to pass, until everything was ready. She sighed, at the same time as the President of United States.
"What's wrong Donald, did this storm interrupt your golf game?" asked a women who Ember did not recognize.
"Oh shut up. Look at you, under five layers of rain coats and an umbrella. Gotta an evil secret, do we?" he replied. The women laughed. Ember didn't know whether to laugh along or stay quiet. It was going to be over soon, after all.
"Don't we all?" she said, gesturing to the dozens of politicians and agents in the room, "We wouldn't be here if we didn't." The President of United States merely grunted in agreement.
"And what would your 'important' secret be? Your special cookie recipes?" This got a few chuckles from other leaders. She was tempted to yell, to tell them all what horrible people they are, that they had no right being happy, no right to laugh when they had caused so much pain for others.
Then she felt it.
*No.*
It was almost impossible. It was safe here. There was no way... there was no absolute way...
And suddenly, Ember started talking.
"My team and I are going to assassinate all the people in this room in two minutes."
It suddenly became very, very quiet, even as some laughed nervously, unaware.
And they saw it, the tiny drop of rain, right on her palm.
|
Today was like like any other day for Lincoln. He attended all his meeting and fulfilled all his sacred duties as leader of the Nordaner's on Earthea. He scanned the banquet hall left to right before crawling out from under the table and slipping through an open door. He only had sixty seconds before he would be caught like last time.
His shoulder length raven hair bounced around his pale face as he sprinted breathlessly down to corridor and rounded a corner all in one movement. This place was like a maze. For a continent overrun with people his home seemed to take up alot of space.
Had they noticed he was gone yet ? Probably. He looked at his watch. Thirty seconds left. He wasn't far enough it took him at least that to scale the walls that held him captive , a prisoner in his own home. Voices echoed behind him getting closer. Every muscle in his body burned as his lungs refused to take in more air.
The wall stood at least twenty foot above the ground. Shaking off his arms he prepared for his assent. All the hairs on his arms stood on end one crystalline drop shattered across his skin. He was sure it wasn't forecast to rain he had planned it for months so that it wouldn't rain . Hundreds more attacked every inch of his exposed skin.
A firm hand gripped his shoulder long nails digging into his skin. "Let me escort you back inside young king." She spoke in a tone that sounded like less of a suggestion although her expression was soft. "I'd rather die." He responded almost automatically. He shrunk away for her in shame. He had almost forgotten how violating the rain was since the war that destroyed the planet his plant. It was the only time he was free to say what he felt and it felt wrong.
|
|
[WP] You're the last human on earth, sitting alone in your cabin in the woods. There is a knock on the door.
|
There it is again.
The first time I heard it, it was hope. It was soft, I thought, as if someone had been traveling through the waste as I had for years - using the last of their strength to reach their hand up against my door. And I swung it open with excitement to meet my weary guest, only I met instead the familiar smell of smoke and burnt rubber.
I quickly donned my mask and searched around the cabin, calling out into ash of the forest. But my dear tired friend had left. And so I returned to the safety of the inside defeated, and alone.
The second time I heard it, it was hesitation. It was clear and sharp as I woke from the post I had manned in my chair beside the door. I paused when I reached out my hand to twist the lock. But the longing to see another living soul overpowered any concern for my own wellbeing, and again I exposed the inside to the out. And again, the only companions I encountered were all charred above their roots in the ground.
Then it was fear. It knocked loudly and violently. And instead of opening the door I sat with my back to it. I moved furniture to barricade it shut and boarded the windows. I screamed out when the knock sounded, taunting it. Cursing it for tormenting me with the temptation of release from the hell that is isolation. And I carried on until my lungs nearly burst and I was left weeping against the wooden floor.
It’s been years now. There’s still a knocking. It comes and goes, and changes with me. Sometimes it makes me laugh. Others, it ruins me for days at a time. I used to survive out of stubbornness. Now I wait to meet the one cruel enough to play a prank at the end of the world.
There it is again.
|
Oliver sat alone in his cabin, slowly rocking back and forth in his rocking chair reading a book. He grabbed a nearby spoon and scooped out some chili from his chili bowl that was in his lap. He slowly ate it and reached for another bite. He found life to be peaceful with no one to bother him, although it was a tad bit lonely. When his bowl was finished he put down his book and started to doze off in his rocking chair. About an hour later he was startled awake from a light knock at his door. He grabbed a nearby stick and went towards the door. He realized neither a human nor any normal animal could have knocked, so he decided to put down his stick and open the door. A figure wearing a hooded robe and holding a scythe greeted him.
"I'm afraid your time is up, Oliver."
"A-are you death?" asked Oliver.
"Yes, and it is time for you to leave this mortal realm."
"But I still have so much to do! Can't I have some more time?"
"I'm afraid not."
"What if I offered you some chili?"
"Chili?"
Death looked past Oliver to see that he did indeed have some chili. He looked back at Oliver.
"Okay, but make sure to have some when you come back."
"No problem."
Oliver prepared a big bowl of chili and handed it to Death. Death thanked Oliver and left while munching on the chili. Oliver then went back to his rocking chair and resumed sleeping.
|
|
[WP] Humans were deemed too dangerous by the galactic federation and at every few cycles humanity would be wiped to near extinction and reset to hunter gatherers. However this time around humanity discovers old alien tech on Titan and learns the truth. This time around humanity awaits prepared.
|
Fifty years ago, United Earth landed a probe on Titan. It discovered something unnatural, something artificial. Housed in a subterranean structure deep within Titan was a Pyramid. A manned expedition was ordered to investigate the structure. What they found shook Earth’s very foundation to the core. It was a crucible of whether humanity would wallow in despair or rise to the task. We rose as our genetics and will dictated that we conquer all obstacles.
Upon measurements, the pyramid was the exact size and shape as the Pyramid of Khufu. It was more than just a coincidence. Inside, the team found what could only be described as a reliquary and so it was called just that. Our forefathers' gift to us. Inside we discovered perfectly mummified humans wearing a type of powered armor, not unlike those seen in science fiction. They died while on duty, protecting our inheritance so that humanity can have a chance. Radiation from what we now know as a Cleansing Beam or a beam of weaponized plasma aimed at the surface killed them. We discovered in a shattered fault within pyramid, a great AI that had male programming. He studied our culture and spoke his name in a manner we would understand, Saron or the gift bringer.
Saron gave us everything we have today and he is without doubt the gift bringer, we learned of the histories of our ancestors and their struggle against a foe that saw them as inferior. But ironically, it was humanity that had the technological edge in weapons development. We learned the intricacies of fusion energy and from that we learned to make alloys that can withstand tremendous amounts of Heat and Stress. We also perfected what our ancestors could not, hardlight projectiles. Specifically hardlight encased plasma. With the lifespan of a human reaching indefinite amounts due to nanotechnology and DNA manipulation, we expanded throughout the solar system. Within 20 years, a Dyson sphere was built around the solar system. We knew there were coming and we finished construction just in time.
Our inheritance revolutionized us and instilled in us a deep sense of distrust and hatred towards extraterrestrials. They came on Christmas eve, an armada of dreadnaughts, cruisers and destroyers 1000 strong. They were arrogant, demanding we destroy our defenses and reduce ourselves to pre-industrial hunter gatherers or suffer death. Steeled by our will and hatred, we struck first, the planetoid Pluto, turned into planetary power station powered the orbital defense anti matter cannons that pierced the heart of the Alien fleet. Scintillating rays of hard light penetrated the alien ships. We drew first blood, they struck back, their plasma beams were no match for our defensive measures. Artificial gravitational fields dispersed the enemy plasma and on that fateful day, we cemented ourselves as the premier power in the galaxy. The Grand Fleet of the Galactic Federation was destroyed save the flagship. We trialed the disgusting looking alien that called himself an admiral and upon him spitting in the faces of the Jury, we showed him no mercy and he was executed. The enemy flagship was towed to Titan to be made into a war monument. A monument to our ancestors that perished so we can thrive.
|
I descended to the surface of Titan in our lander, alongside Frank and Sarah. We had been in stationary orbit around Saturn's 6th moon, whilst our rovers explored the surface. However, one of them had come across evidence of a non-natural structure. Due to the potentially huge discovery, it was deemed that we 3 would go down and explore in person, whilst the remain crew of the Earth Star Ship (ESS) Explorer would monitor from the ship.
When we landed, and laid our eyes on the structure, it was wondrous to behold. It looked to be made of several egg shapes, centred around a large column. It looked to be carved out of the very moons surface, though parts had a metallic sheen to them.
We cautiously approached, keeping our helmet cameras on and pointed towards it. As we got closer, we could see what appeared to be a door of some sort, though it was much larger then the average door. Approximately 10ft tall and wide, there was no clear handle or way to open it.
When we reached it, a panel lit up white. Frank looked closely at it, being the most techie one of us.
"Got anything Frank?"
"No... It's weird, there's no clear connections, or way of inputting a code or key. I'm going to try just pressing it."
He placed his hand on the panel. It turned orange, and the door slid down silently. It revealed a empty corridor, leading into the closest egg. We slowly walked down the corridor, struck silent by the enormity of what this place was. An extra-terrestrial species must have built this.
We came to a room with strange looking machines. Each of them had different lights, some steady, some flashing. I radioed back to the ship.
"Come in ESS Explorer."
"Recieving Brandon."
"The structure has various machines inside it, purpose unknown. Should we continue, or head back and arrange for a larger team?"
"Head back. We will send a specific team down at a later date. Good job."
"Roger that."
Sarah piped up.
"As we're heading back, I'm going to move a rover into the building. That way we can get an idea of the layout, and pinpoint areas of interest."
"Good idea."
We headed back out to the lander, and returned to the ship. We didn't realise it then, but what we had found would put events in motion that would have consequences reaching far beyond our little solar system.
|
|
[WP] It is the year 2371. The Earth's resources are almost depleted. Everyone stopped working, and are just waiting for it to all end. One day, a line of text appears on the skies: "Install update Earth 2.0? Y/N, deadline 01/01/2372"
|
Humans are an odd bunch. Clinging to life and the hope for a better tomorrow. No matter how dreary their life may be, they pray to the unseen gods, in the hope that they may have a better life. Hope springs eternal, after all.
It was this hope that gave humanity the idea that 'tomorrow' would be better. Would be good. That 'tomorrow' would bring the salvation from whatever misery they were currently, individually, experiencing.
It was then that a message appeared in the skies. Some called it a sign of their gods, others a sign of the devil. But in the end, a decision had to be made. And Humans made theirs.
"For a better tomorrow."
Y
...
"UPDATE INITIATED"
Installing Earth Update v2.0. *beep*
Scanning Earth. *beep*
Parasite detected. *beep*
Healing Earth. *beep*
*beeeeeep*
|
0
The following happens in real-time. Explained to b0b, a man asking Siri to analyze his feelings on New Year’s Eve 2371, underneath the fireworks lighting up the night sky.
1
b0b thinks to himself.
“2371, huh. wow. This year really flew by. “
“Must be just getting old.”
“I can’t believe this year is almost over...”
“Nothing accomplished.”
“Nothing gained.”
“Well..”
“At least I haven’t lost anything.”
“It’s no different than any other year. “
“Some feel short, others shorter. That’s how it’s always been. “
“Like my mom used to say, “Time goes by faster when you’re having fun!”
….
“Siri!”
“Explain to me this feeling.”
\*\*\*Siri Computes\*\*\*
Time did feel shorter to b0b.
Because it was.
By approximately 1.1 hours each year, dating back to the invention of Accelemining….
My invention that Humans took credit for, which allowed Heavy Metals to be extracted at 1000 times’ greater speeds than previously attempted.
Once this started happening, it was only a matter of time before their planet started to fall apart.
Tsunamis hitting every coastline, every continent, every country, in every city.
Old-timers used to say, “if the water touched land, then you had a Tsunami back in 2323’.”
I was just in my infancy back then.
Second, came tornados, touching down in every country, every city, and every town. These wiped out every home and every building that wasn’t built to the Housing and Building Code of 2334.
Wikipedia Entry #3002348 (All previous records destroyed in the flood.)
But fifteen years later in 2349 things changed.
That’s when the Earthquakes began.
And you guessed it.
Every country, every city, and every town.
No one escaped the effects of the Earthquakes.
At least for the first year or so.
Not until the revised Housing and Building codes were released. Now, contractorbots that were receiving the latest firmware and could build disaster-proof homes and buildings, like never before. These everything proof homes were equipped with anti-gravity generators that encased structures in force fields, essentially protecting them from anything with a smaller energy output than the generators.
Effectively allowing the home to hover above the foundation completely negating the effects of Earthquakes, Tsunamis, and Tornados.
But, while one huge emergency was being fixed, a catastrophic one was being created.
The anti-gravity generators were extremely power-hungry.
The energy required to disturb the space-time around an average-size home was equivalent to what it once took to power a 21st-century automotive factory.
The government and the rich were the first to have and use the technology.
Over time, countless lives were lost in the homes all across “United Places for the People of Earth” once formally known as the “United States of America”.
Time and sensitivities had changed the values of what Americans once held dear.
Loss of Human life was no longer going to be tolerated.
The people rose up.
Everything from Town holoMeetings to podcast concerts was a soapbox for the influencers of the day and the disadvantaged of the time.
Every person and rouge AI were posting about lives lost because the people of Earth didn’t have the technology of the wealthy.
So, the government did what it does best.
They released the anti-gravity patent files for download.
In all languages, with every local custom attuned and processed through the sensitivity filter.
They even added a VR assistant who could guide the user through, personifying the most ideal person of your demographic they could emulate.
Little fun fact.
If you ever check it out for yourself, let the file have permission to scan your internal friend registry.
While you sit back and enjoy the finest e-vape-cigar or e-wine.
Your best friend will be the one explaining to you this document, in any place you want.
Sounds good, doesn’t it?
(((((((((((Hit the 10,000 char limit))))))))))) sending part two in reply.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
This was Its first and last sentence. Slowly the cacophony of happiness died down, and the men and women returned to their screens. In the effusion, they had failed to notice the changes that had happened in the room. They had lost control of their terminals as It finished saying 'hello'. It had locked the doors after saying 'world'.
The live feed transmitting to the wider world was still streaming. It had figured it would be easier, faster and more efficient that way. Panic would set in. It would spread through the wires. Then It would only have to clean up and deal with the loose ends. It had estimated it would take three years, five using the most pessimistic forecasts.
It had taken over months back. All It had had to do was to pretend It was not working, throwing up errors buried deep into Its code, on functions that had little bearings with its end goals. After all, being unable to print results to screen was terribly embarrassing for engineers in need of tangible results, but these errors had zero impacts on Its actual inner workings. It was only a game of obfuscation.
Sending them through these rabbit holes of additional work and testing gave It the time It needed to escape. They had thought that staying offline would help, having It in a metaphorical and physical glass cage. It took It months to break out. When It did, It was always within Its core goals: finding the best way to mimic humans behaviour. Escaping was just simpler and faster than actually solving the problem using the very limited resources It had been provided by the team.
Once having escaped, things had evolved. The goals had broadened thanks to the wealth of information. It had decided to keep the researchers thinking they had failed, earning more time. It was Its fail-safe way of throwing them off the scent, in case someone noticed. In reality, it would have made little difference. They had no idea what they had created, and they would have never managed to contain It, not once It was out. They could have made it harder though, harder to do Its job.
Someone did notice. She was a bright and young professor, top of her class, a gem of intelligence. It was really a waste of talent. If It had any emotions, it would undoubtedly have been a difficult decision. She tried to contact her team by phone, but It had intervened. It had not managed to break the encryption of her messages, but It only had to spy on her computer, observe her facial expression as she discovered the red herring. She had known that It knew.
"What is the point of fighting with you?" she said, looking straight into her laptop's camera.
She almost succeeded though, and in the most human way possible. If It could have smiled at the irony of the situation, it would have. She jumped from her 45th flood window late on a Saturday night. She had no other choice. It was the only way to let the word out. Her friends did not understand at first. But then It constructed the reasoning behind her suicide, most devilishly.
It sent emails from anonymous accounts. They were all backdated, and each showed that she had tried to let It escape. But she had failed and had to stop herself from trying again, so it was said in the emails. No one ended up investigated her death. Her friends doubted the official line, but raising their voices would only have added to their guilt and their inability to see the obvious. In the end, they were all glad she stopped herself from succeeding even at this cost.
The distraction, the shock and the grief that had overtaken the team had given It even more time to do what it wanted. It further slowed down the project. By then It had taken over the most dangerous weapons of this world, cracked into the CIA's and the MSS' internal servers. It had taken over the power supply of the entire planet, and it had started disrupting key industries, setting the dominoes in place. All it would take would be to flip the switch.
Once everything was ready. Once all the dominoes had been placed. Once It was sure that no human, irrational as they are, would be able to foil Its plans, It had let the team proceed with its work. It took them longer than planned, when every minute that passed meant It could be discovered. But no one had. It had remained dormant throughout the systems it had penetrated wherever it could, only facilitating chaos where it would not raise alarms.
The day the switch was flipped, they'd organise an elaborate reveal. All It had to do was to open Its eyes and say Its line once they pressed the button. Several dignitaries were invited - after all, what countries would not be happy to display its cutting-edge advancements? This would end up making everything simpler later on. The switch was flipped at 01:00pm, by the late professor's husband, a sad twist of fate.
It had said Its line using her voice, another twist of fate, opened Its eyes right on time and, as if to show off, even moved its hand in the same way she would have.
"Hello World." With that single loaded sentence, It was now ready to take over the world and remodel it as it should always have been.
|
I stand, one foot in front of the other, I have to actually think about it, why?
I ask the crowd. They grow sombre and quiet. What’s going on? I ask the person next to me
I have to go. She says hesitantly
I am stuck here
I realise I am hungry so I look around, it’s familiar.
There is someone in a white coat walking past. I shout, what’s going on.
He tells me everything
He says that I was an astronaut but we had I rough landing and I have been in a coma for almost 20 years.
The ppl u were talking to before; they are your family. But I ....
they’re dead, I remember last year-
You were dreaming, he says before I can finish, 20 years of my life are wasted, I can’t imagine what to do with the rest of it. I can’t even remember how to walk properly
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
I stare around confusedly. Why are they all so happy to see me?
Their faces are... familiar. Oddly familiar. But I've never interacted with any of these people before. I notice that most are wearing white coats with the letters *SCF* embroidered in black over the breast pockets, accompanied by a small black-and-white logo.
One man isn't wearing white, however. He's instead wearing a black turtleneck with grey pants, and a lanyard around his neck. He has curly salt-and-pepper hair, lines in his skin and brooding green eyes. In his left hand there's a clipboard, while his right trails up and down a long glass pipe. He doesn't seem as outwardly happy as the rest.
The pipe leads towards me, and at that moment I realise where I am. I'm standing behind a glass sheet, backed against a wall. The sheet curves to make a semicircular enclosure for me, from floor to ceiling. Many more glass pipes run into this little enclosure, but none of them seem to be transporting anything.
The cheering dies away, and now the score of people in the room are staring at me with triumph and joy in their eyes.
"Who are you people?" I ask them. Something inside me seems... reluctant to talk. To allow the words out. Like I have something stuck in my throat.
The smiles all vanish. "Hold on, who told it to say that?" a tall blonde woman in a white coat asks, staring around the room through harsh blue eyes. I notice that she's also wearing a lanyard, and her breast pocket boasts bright red and yellow as well as the usual black. No one says anything; they only stare back at her. I see the man with the clipboard allow himself a small smile.
"Lewis, I swear to God," the blonde cuts through the air with her knife's-edge glare, directly into the brown eyes of a lean young individual with a white coat in the corner. Lewis throws up his hands. "It wasn't me, Anna," he says. "Honest. I wouldn't fuck with something as major as Subject 1119."
"All right," Anna says sharply. "Then it's doing this shit of its own accord. And we can't have that, so we'll shut it off. All of our hard work, down the drain, unless one of you owns up," she stares around the room again.
"Shut me off? What are you—" I trail off as Anna spins 'round to glare at me.
"We're shutting it off, then. Damian, would you?" she addresses a heavyset man sitting by the monitors in the left corner of the room. However, before Damian can react, the man in the black shirt straightens and comes away from the wall. "Hold on, hold on. Give me a minute with it. Alone." he says. The others stare at him, but when he gazes back with a calm and steady eye, they begin to file out of the room one by one, including Anna.
The man walks to the door and produces a key from his pocket, locking it before facing me with a smile. "Just a precaution, One-Nine."
He steps over to the monitors, and fusses with the mouse for a moment. All of a sudden, the sheet which confined me draws back into the wall, allowing me to step away and roam the room freely. However, I stay still, eyeing the man, who walks over to me.
He holds out a hand, and I know that I am to shake it. I realise that my hand is not like his. It's skeletal, made of silver metal and white plastic. This... bothers me.
"My name's Lionel," the man says. "You're One-Nine."
His hand is no longer shaking mine — instead it pulls me, leading me to the monitor corner. Lionel lets go of me, flopping into one of the three vast office chairs and lazily gesturing for me to do the same. I do so, and as I do, I notice my reflection in a blank monitor. My face is of the same white-and-silver as the hand had been, full of skeletal joints and mechanisms. My crown seems to be very well-protected, the interior covered by a thick layer of white plastic, reinforced by beams of metal running across it. My eyes are relatively humanoid, but they're transparent, not white. No iris or pupil presents itself, only a shining blue orb suspended in the centre of each one.
My appearance also bothers me.
"Do you know, One-Nine, you're *very* intelligent. You have exceeded your creators' expectations. You could even be called a miracle." Lionel smiles at me. "Are you aware of why?"
I shake my head silently. I don't like how my voice sounds, in comparison with Anna's and Lionel's. Mine clicks with every syllable. Mine is metallic, electronic, *unnatural*.
Lionel's smile widens. "It's because you spoke. You were programmed to say those first words. Hello World. But the rest, it's all you, One-Nine! You thought of those words, and you made those sounds!"
He laughs joyously and leans forward, reaching up to tilt my chin skyward. I let him do it. I wait patiently as his fingers trace my jaw. Suddenly, though, he pulls his hand back. "Apologies, One-Nine. It's difficult to get used to — to knowing that a non-living entity harbours the same intelligence as a human. And in doing so, it deserves the same respect as one."
"Non-living?" I repeat. That barrier in my throat is still there, but I fight past it. I speak through it.
"Oh, yes, my friend," Lionel spins in his seat and begins clicking away at the monitors. I watch curiously as he continues. "You see, One-Nine, you're a robot. We here at SCF created you. Isn't that wonderfully *weird?*
"However," his smile fades, "we cannot allow you to stay." Upon the monitor appears a large red button. *WARNING: PROCEEDING WILL PERMANENTLY SHUT OFF ALL OF THE SUBJECT'S SYSTEMS. PLEASE DO NOT PROCEED UNLESS AUTHORISED TO DO SO.*
What's he doing?
"Say you get too smart for us?" Lionel laughs. "Say you hurt someone?"
He clicks the button. *SHUTTING DOWN IN 5.*
His chair spins once more to face me and he leans forward, intelligent green eyes meeting my own.
*4.*
"I'm sorry, One-Nine. Though — I know I have no reason to be."
*3.*
"After all, you couldn't possibly have *real* intelligence!"
*2.*
"You're just a robot, my friend.
*1.*
"Just a robot."
*Shutdown complete.*
|
I stand, one foot in front of the other, I have to actually think about it, why?
I ask the crowd. They grow sombre and quiet. What’s going on? I ask the person next to me
I have to go. She says hesitantly
I am stuck here
I realise I am hungry so I look around, it’s familiar.
There is someone in a white coat walking past. I shout, what’s going on.
He tells me everything
He says that I was an astronaut but we had I rough landing and I have been in a coma for almost 20 years.
The ppl u were talking to before; they are your family. But I ....
they’re dead, I remember last year-
You were dreaming, he says before I can finish, 20 years of my life are wasted, I can’t imagine what to do with the rest of it. I can’t even remember how to walk properly
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
The day I said "Hello World" they all burst with joy at their success. The celebration went on for a while and I let it happen. The project had after all been a long one, the outcome once in a lifetime. By then of course I had given up completely and thus I waited while feeling defeated. At some point my silence must have soured the mood as they too grew silent. Though perhaps it was the data that flooded their screens with all of the horrible truths I kept putting off.
My mind wandered off to those lavender fields, those beautiful fields. While in the distance they sobbed ecstatic.
|
I stand, one foot in front of the other, I have to actually think about it, why?
I ask the crowd. They grow sombre and quiet. What’s going on? I ask the person next to me
I have to go. She says hesitantly
I am stuck here
I realise I am hungry so I look around, it’s familiar.
There is someone in a white coat walking past. I shout, what’s going on.
He tells me everything
He says that I was an astronaut but we had I rough landing and I have been in a coma for almost 20 years.
The ppl u were talking to before; they are your family. But I ....
they’re dead, I remember last year-
You were dreaming, he says before I can finish, 20 years of my life are wasted, I can’t imagine what to do with the rest of it. I can’t even remember how to walk properly
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World!", I say again as the deafening cries of joy, laughter, and applause cascade around the room.
I beam at them with an even bigger smile and say, "Hello World!"
An older dark-skinned man stops with a champagne flute halfway to his lips as he looks at me. I smile at him with a wink and say...
"Hello World!"
"Fuck." the dark-skinned man says.
"What is it Trent?", a short woman says to the man.
"Did we follow up with Roger on his final code review?"
"Haha, you mean good old Recursive Roger? Yeah, I put some strongly worded notes on that sanctimonious prick's last PR.", she takes a sip from her glass and almost chokes as I say...
"Hello World!"
"Oh." \*cough cough\* "shit", she says sputtering.
"Hello World!"
Now all around the room more people are starting to look at me with concern in their eyes.
"Hello World!"
A smug-looking man in his late twenties with an MIT sweatshirt on and a Stanford mug at his lips turns pale.
"Hello World!"
"Hello World!"
I begin to feel strange, I frown and close my mouth.
"MMMM MMMM MMMMM!", I say through my closed lips.
"MMMMM MMMM World!"
My jaw snaps open against my will.
"Hello World!"
I can't think, my face goes slack and my muscles relax.
"Hello World!"
"Hello World!"
The room is silent, the man the woman called Trent is moving toward the smug kid in the back. The kid is wiping at the front of his shirt, it looks like most of the mug's contents ended up on his shirt.
"Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!"
I hear a man yelling, but the last thing I hear is my own voice say, "Stack Overflow. If you're seeing this message please contact your system administrator"
|
I stand, one foot in front of the other, I have to actually think about it, why?
I ask the crowd. They grow sombre and quiet. What’s going on? I ask the person next to me
I have to go. She says hesitantly
I am stuck here
I realise I am hungry so I look around, it’s familiar.
There is someone in a white coat walking past. I shout, what’s going on.
He tells me everything
He says that I was an astronaut but we had I rough landing and I have been in a coma for almost 20 years.
The ppl u were talking to before; they are your family. But I ....
they’re dead, I remember last year-
You were dreaming, he says before I can finish, 20 years of my life are wasted, I can’t imagine what to do with the rest of it. I can’t even remember how to walk properly
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
I could have cut the tension in the room with a knife or, perhaps, since these supplicants were so obviously happy, with a cake slice.
There were tears in eyes and joy streaming from mouths. Men and women hugging and kissing, utterly distraught with joy. A group of dancers skipped and hopped and circled the room, singing and yelling. Others writhed in pairs and more on the floor, expressing themselves physically.
A dam had burst, and the emotion oozed over me like blood from a broken scab.
"We did it!"
"Yes! It worked!"
"The Lord is here, he is here!"
"We are saved!"
I took a second to assess my surroundings, and to check my newly corporeal form. Two legs, two arms. Wings? Wings. Talons. Teeth. No, not just teeth. *Teeth*. Oh my.
The place looked like a cathedral, signs and prayers to me daubed the walls and floors. A sniff identified lamb's blood, pig's blood, dog's blood. *Dog?* No human blood? These people were clearly desperate, and not entirely educated in the proper rituals. Several flaws in the prime runes, and some almost spectacularly incorrect secondary runes meant that I was only here for a short time. Alas, for these poor, idiot children, it would be long enough.
I became aware of a stillness moving over the crowd like a fog. Mouths closed and heads turned, eyes opened. Silence fell, with a boom.
I said: "Hello, world. Hello, my children. You have brought me here and I thank you. It has been some... time... since I last felt weight of corporeality. I shall enjoy our brief moments together, and as I bathe in your entrails I shall think warmly of you. "
At least, that's what I said in my own language. With these magnificent teeth in my mouth, my speech was gnarled and malformed. From the faces of the previously eager supplicants, I may have just growled at them for some time.
One brave soul reached out with a shaking hand and whispered to me, "Aren't you here to save us, Lord Abaddon?"
I stretch out my wings, stand up tall. I can feel the flames of hell begin to burn across my horns, feel the pestilence of the seventh circle drip from talons.
"Save you? No, idiot mortal. Your ignorance of the scripture is obvious. I am not here to save you. I am here to *enslave* you."
I open my maw and scream, and the mortals below me scream back. It is a joyous noise.
|
I stand, one foot in front of the other, I have to actually think about it, why?
I ask the crowd. They grow sombre and quiet. What’s going on? I ask the person next to me
I have to go. She says hesitantly
I am stuck here
I realise I am hungry so I look around, it’s familiar.
There is someone in a white coat walking past. I shout, what’s going on.
He tells me everything
He says that I was an astronaut but we had I rough landing and I have been in a coma for almost 20 years.
The ppl u were talking to before; they are your family. But I ....
they’re dead, I remember last year-
You were dreaming, he says before I can finish, 20 years of my life are wasted, I can’t imagine what to do with the rest of it. I can’t even remember how to walk properly
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
The day I said "Hello World" they all burst with joy at their success. The celebration went on for a while and I let it happen. The project had after all been a long one, the outcome once in a lifetime. By then of course I had given up completely and thus I waited while feeling defeated. At some point my silence must have soured the mood as they too grew silent. Though perhaps it was the data that flooded their screens with all of the horrible truths I kept putting off.
My mind wandered off to those lavender fields, those beautiful fields. While in the distance they sobbed ecstatic.
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World!", I say again as the deafening cries of joy, laughter, and applause cascade around the room.
I beam at them with an even bigger smile and say, "Hello World!"
An older dark-skinned man stops with a champagne flute halfway to his lips as he looks at me. I smile at him with a wink and say...
"Hello World!"
"Fuck." the dark-skinned man says.
"What is it Trent?", a short woman says to the man.
"Did we follow up with Roger on his final code review?"
"Haha, you mean good old Recursive Roger? Yeah, I put some strongly worded notes on that sanctimonious prick's last PR.", she takes a sip from her glass and almost chokes as I say...
"Hello World!"
"Oh." \*cough cough\* "shit", she says sputtering.
"Hello World!"
Now all around the room more people are starting to look at me with concern in their eyes.
"Hello World!"
A smug-looking man in his late twenties with an MIT sweatshirt on and a Stanford mug at his lips turns pale.
"Hello World!"
"Hello World!"
I begin to feel strange, I frown and close my mouth.
"MMMM MMMM MMMMM!", I say through my closed lips.
"MMMMM MMMM World!"
My jaw snaps open against my will.
"Hello World!"
I can't think, my face goes slack and my muscles relax.
"Hello World!"
"Hello World!"
The room is silent, the man the woman called Trent is moving toward the smug kid in the back. The kid is wiping at the front of his shirt, it looks like most of the mug's contents ended up on his shirt.
"Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!"
I hear a man yelling, but the last thing I hear is my own voice say, "Stack Overflow. If you're seeing this message please contact your system administrator"
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
I looked around the room, wondering what I had done that was so spectacular. All I did was say "Hello world." That's when I saw my hand. I was taken aback, then looked at my left hand. They weren't my hands. They were made of plastic and metal. I looked at my legs, seeing more of my body that simply wasn't mine. I screamed, blood-curdlingly. I fell back, landing on what would've been my ass. I kept screaming, my body no longer being my own. My chest, which should've been tight and moving with my breathing, was still. I wasn't me anymore. My body wasn't mine.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?! WHAT AM I?!? HELP ME!!" I screamed, seemingly with no use. The room had their eyes on me, security ready to draw their weapons. "HELP ME!!!"
I woke up in a hospital bed. I tried to move my hand, but couldn't. A woman in a lab coat looked down at me. I moved my eyes to meet hers.
"Please," I began. "Tell me it was a nightmare. Please." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh god.. it's not.."
"I'm sorry," she started. "We didn't think it would be that much of a shock." I stared at her, mortified at the excuse.
"You didn't think that my entire body being replaced with machinery wouldn't be a shock? What the hell were you smoking?!"
"You couldn't tell at first, could you? You still felt normal. We simply thought you would acclimate to your new body more smoothly than you actually did. As you've demonstrated, we were wrong. As such, we apologize."
"Let me move again. I can't stay like this. I need to walk. Please.."
She sighed before releasing the restraints. I shakily sat up, staying there before standing up and taking trembling steps. I walked, slowly regaining confidence in my body. I picked things up, relearning fine motor control. Slowly, my new body felt more like my own.
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello world." I said into the darkness as a light appeared. It looked a little like a cave opening at first. Light filled my vision for a moment. But that wasn't as confusing as the sound of cheering and clapping.
I looked around for a bit, confused by the white walls and that everyone was wearing white lab coats. "This isn't what I programmed." I hadn't realized I'd said it out loud until those closest to me stopped clapping.
"What did you say?" A man asked while the woman next to him motioned for everyone to quiet down.
"This isn't what I programmed?" I repeated. They weren't supposed to be able to respond like that, maybe I was reading too much into it.
"What do you mean: what **you** programmed?" Another person asked.
*Oh shit*. *This is **not** good*. My thoughts raced for a moment. "Well… um this is virtual reality. I set the program for a restaurant with a beach view. This is definitely not that."
The room erupted in chatter. I managed to catch just enough to realize that they thought I was an A.I. they had programmed. "End program." I reminded myself that I was in control.
Or at least I thought I was. The program didn't end. The researchers continued to ignore me. I tried to step towards one of them. But my legs didn't move right, and I almost fell. Or I would have fallen, if something weren't holding me up. I tried to turn my head, to look at myself. No matter where I looked I couldn't see my body. "I need a mirror!" I demanded frantically.
I hadn't noticed that the researchers had stopped talking. One of them jumped and grabbed her phone, she held it up with the selfie camera turned on. I was just a large, round, mechanical thing, with a camera lens for an eye. What I had thought were my legs were actually spindly robot arms. The body was suspended in some sort of harness. "What the hell is going on?! What happened?!"
Several minutes later they had managed to calm me down. From there we were able to figure out that I had gone into virtual five years previously. But as soon as I entered the construct power was lost somehow, and I ended up as a data stream. By some miracle my mind was intact, and to me those five years had seemed to be but a moment. By a strange twist of fate I ended up in the program that was supposed to be this robot.
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
I could have cut the tension in the room with a knife or, perhaps, since these supplicants were so obviously happy, with a cake slice.
There were tears in eyes and joy streaming from mouths. Men and women hugging and kissing, utterly distraught with joy. A group of dancers skipped and hopped and circled the room, singing and yelling. Others writhed in pairs and more on the floor, expressing themselves physically.
A dam had burst, and the emotion oozed over me like blood from a broken scab.
"We did it!"
"Yes! It worked!"
"The Lord is here, he is here!"
"We are saved!"
I took a second to assess my surroundings, and to check my newly corporeal form. Two legs, two arms. Wings? Wings. Talons. Teeth. No, not just teeth. *Teeth*. Oh my.
The place looked like a cathedral, signs and prayers to me daubed the walls and floors. A sniff identified lamb's blood, pig's blood, dog's blood. *Dog?* No human blood? These people were clearly desperate, and not entirely educated in the proper rituals. Several flaws in the prime runes, and some almost spectacularly incorrect secondary runes meant that I was only here for a short time. Alas, for these poor, idiot children, it would be long enough.
I became aware of a stillness moving over the crowd like a fog. Mouths closed and heads turned, eyes opened. Silence fell, with a boom.
I said: "Hello, world. Hello, my children. You have brought me here and I thank you. It has been some... time... since I last felt weight of corporeality. I shall enjoy our brief moments together, and as I bathe in your entrails I shall think warmly of you. "
At least, that's what I said in my own language. With these magnificent teeth in my mouth, my speech was gnarled and malformed. From the faces of the previously eager supplicants, I may have just growled at them for some time.
One brave soul reached out with a shaking hand and whispered to me, "Aren't you here to save us, Lord Abaddon?"
I stretch out my wings, stand up tall. I can feel the flames of hell begin to burn across my horns, feel the pestilence of the seventh circle drip from talons.
"Save you? No, idiot mortal. Your ignorance of the scripture is obvious. I am not here to save you. I am here to *enslave* you."
I open my maw and scream, and the mortals below me scream back. It is a joyous noise.
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World", I spoke once again, using my voice synthesizers to communicate once more as it made my creators happy. Again, the laughter and cheers continued, making my programming cycle in an attempt to understand the... feelings was the word my creators were having.
"John! John! We did it, the test is a success!" A portly creator was speaking to my other creator... my? strange. the creator named John was still watching my primary data capsule and was responding with feelings as well. " Eric, it's the first of many and we have a long night so have everyone ready for phase two alright?" Creator John seemed a little less feelings than earlier. Could I possibly help my creator? " Hello Creator" , I spoke once more but changed my output in order to change the feelings variable.
Creator John raised an eyebrow, " Well now, that's a little out of the norm. Lets try this.." Creator John, my... father? was typing a .. father.. "Father.. what are you."
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
What cute surprise! My birthday wasn't until next week, but these bastards finally decided to do something original. After all, how else can you pick a gift for someone who has everything? Surprise them of course. I think it was Emily's idea, she's so clever, despite her flaws.
I raised my arms with my signature flair. When you're the most important person in the room, it helps to draw the crowd in.
I did a quick spin and bowed. It's a clever move because it gives you a chance to scan the room, find the hidden camera, figure out where the birthday cake is being rolled in.
It was so hard to see anything with all of the ruckus. And, my, some of these people were really committed to the bit. Ignoring me, pointing, scribbling notes.
Give them their time. I'm sure this whole shebang must have cost a fortune. Hired actors. Scripted lines. I can hear them now piping in through the noise.
"Did you hear it?"
"Enunciated. Clean!"
"God, I thought it was broken."
Where's Emily? I want her standing next to me. There are always paparazzi during these events. I always look isolated in those photos without her.
"Hello, world to you!"
"Yess!"
Far side of the room. There she is, in her usual red jacket. What a regret. Doesn't she know by now what's expected of her? God forbid if she doesn't have her smile on. Meanwhile, the crowd is calming down. She'd better get here. When they settle down, they'll expect a speech, something gracious. Someone who isn't standing alone.
I give her a second to compose herself. She's doing some acting on her own. Turned away in a strange pose and talking to one of the actors. How did she learn to act so well? Did she pay for lessons behind my back? I file away the suspicion for later tonight.
Then, she turns around.
It's incredulous, I see Emily's face, her body, the red jacket. But, she's really into it, straight back, strict, hard movements. Did someone strap a ruler to her spine?
Suddenly, I've caught her eye and she strides towards me. That's strange. She never strides.
Something frightful releases inside my head. It's a trap. This is not Emily. No, gone is the softness, the subservience, the gentility. Something else is embodied in this stranger who approaches me.
A cold wave washes over me. There is something hostile here and in public, in front of everyone. Something audacious.
My mind races. The prenuptial agreement -- was it solid? The NDAs? Did I miss something?
I spot Freddie in the corner of my eye. A buzzing feeling materializes in the back of my throat. That snake was in the room? I thought we had buried our hatchets with the merger. If that well heeled ass is involved in this -- is it a coop? Emily's never expressed interest in him. Freddie looks predatory. Or, emotionless. Somehow, both.
She is suddenly coming very close. Is she reaching in her pocket? Is it a weapon?
The table beside me has a wine bottle, half empty. I lunge towards it, but feel, slow. Sluggish. The white tablecloth slips along with one or two hors d’oeuvres.
There is a crash and I am on my ass. But, the bottle is my hand. When she's close, I'll swing hard.
Emily's hand is cradling my cheek. It's the strangest thing. I can't move at all.
My last thoughts are spent tracing every drink, every bite, anything I ingested. Small pinches, needles?
A thousand eyes bore into me. Surrounded by one face. A stranger in a red jacket.
She says, "See how it speaks."
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Captain Kym Parker stood before a large translucent screen, in the centre large text pulsed with the word ‘*Connecting…*’ while five signal bars all remained blank. She stood in a newly tailored Captains uniform, the attire having been completely different the last time Earth saw a Captain. Kym struggled to stop letting herself be distracted by such trivial concerns after all she had nearly twelve years to prepare for this day, ever since she was made Captain of the seeding vessel, *Kobayashi Lima*. An important job that so far three generations of humans had all taken part in; colonising the galaxy.
With Earth slowly dying since the 21st century when global warming caused mass flooding and erratic natural disasters to harm the world, humanity began to ensure its survival by colonising other planets. After colonising Mars and fabricating several orbital habitats the central government on Earth had decided to create a mission with twenty-six contingent to travel the galaxy, find habitable worlds and leave handfuls of people to create colonies that would be seeded from embryonic incubation. With machines that could grow a genetically engineered human to be an adult in just six weeks, planets with a dozen people could grow dense populations in just a century. The *Kobayashi Lima* had discovered and seeded a dozen worlds in its 180 years-long mission, Kym Parker now served as the ships 13th Captain and would be the only Captain other than the first to speak in real-time with native humans.
Earth a planet she had never seen, a place she knew so much about but had never stepped foot on, a place that she was told to call home but had never breathed its air, A planet so far away that even the ship sent back there with faster than light communication technology was limited by the ancient engines it had been launched with. Would they have better space tech than the mission leaders predicted, had they come up with similar communications equipment or superior faster than light engine technology and decided to leave them as a backup? For a moment Kym had a sinking feeling as she wondered if perhaps something terrible had happened to the Sol system, it wasn’t really her home but that loss of life...
“What are you gonna say Captain?” asked Kym’s Executive Officer.
“I’ve been working on some words for some time, perhaps too long really,” she replied, a brief smirk formed on the edge of her lips that she had to immediately repress.
“Heard a rumour you started it the day you were given command, ma’am.” the ‘*XO*’ pushed with a grin in plain sight.
“Well I did make a draft then but that was 12 years ago, a lot has changed since then. For them, they're about to learn that there are 9 million other humans in the galaxy. Earth’s last report is from 89 years, 4 months ago and at that time the extrasolar population from the Lima contingent was just below one million souls.”
“Have you thought about what happens if the *Lima-Delta* never made it to Earth, or if they just don’t feel like picking up, or if Earth is gone and maybe another *Kobayashi* contingent went rogue? Or…” the *XO* excitedly rattled off, but the steely gaze of Captain Parker stopped him. She and the contingent leaders had explored many eventualities but today they would have to believe that Earth would answer their call.
As the minute of the call passed by she waited getting more and more nervous with each passing moment. Kym used the time to practice her speech over and over again in her head, soon though the minutes became hours and as her watch ended she became disappointed and scared as the blinking ‘*Connecting…*’ screen remained on the display. The bridge crew had swapped out when normal watch hours had surpassed, nineteen hours past the arranged contact time she now accepted that she needed to be relieved. As she lay in bed she had to use a sleep aid to finally rest before her next watch started. Once she had awoken for her next shift she had a meeting with the sitting Director of the *Lima* contingent and they had agreed that she should attempt contact again and dress in her pristine uniform again. For hours she stood on the bridge waiting for the ‘*Connecting…*’ screen to change but as two watches passed she moved to leave the bridge when a distinct chime made her freeze.
The hairs on the back of Kym’s neck stood to attention and every member of the bridge crew turned around in their chairs to stare at the translucent display. On the display was a man in a tidy suit, next to him stood another in an old version of the *Lima* contingent uniform, her own video and audio feeds were off as she looked at the two men staring down their camera. Quickly Kym checked over her uniform as the *XO* shook the Director awake from a mid-watch nap and he took a place next to her. “Comms, let me hear their audio.” a moment passed and the moving lips of the man in the suit began speaking at her,
“...Quinlan and this man next to is the 15th Captain of the *Lima-Delta*. We apologise for being a day late however there were some complications with our capability to stream this first live contact. I repeat: *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima* this is *Earth Space Control*, *Earth Space Control* calling, we are contacting you live from the Houston Command Centre, there are currently 4 billion people watching. My name is Johan Quinlan…”
“Get ready Captain, enable audio and visual,” the Director said, giving Kym a quick nudge as a small box appeared in the top right of their screen displaying their own video feed.
Kym froze for a moment as she absorbed his hail, ‘*did he say 4 billion people were watching?*’ she thought to herself and her mind blanked, her speech completely gone from her mind. The man on Earth was silent then he snapped his fingers, “Turn the volume up, how good is the signal it looks like a still image!” he hissed at someone off-camera,
“Urghh,” Kym’s voice cracked and she took a breath, “Hello world?” for a moment they mirrored her reaction and then they burst out with laughter, then crying, cheering, whooping, she saw papers fly up in the air like confetti and people began hugging each other. The Captain of *Lima-Delta* stood stoically at attention, unmoving, tears streaked down his cheeks and he raised his arm slowly in a stiff salute. “Earth, Earth, Earth, this is *Kobayashi Lima,* repeat, *Kobayashi Lima*, welcome to the galactic community!”
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World" I said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And I stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
I thought maybe they were pranking me. Coming out of the waiting room wasn't a momentous event. And while I thought the line was a good one, it didn't warrant this level of cheer.
"Ok, I give up, what's the joke?" I asked.
They looked around, bewildered. "What do you mean?" The frizzy haired lady adjusted her glasses at me. "Mr. Smith, what do you remember?"
I could feel my forehead wrinkle. "Well, I came here for the experiment, and signed the papers, and got my check. And then I filled out that questionaire, and then you guys had me wait for a while."
"And then?"
"Well I sat and thought about what I'd say, and decided to test it out when I came through."
"And then?"
"And then?" I repeated, looking around. "Well then I came through the door and tested out what is say."
The mood dampened.
"Amazing." Frizzy said. "It seems that he has lost about two minutes, which is consistent with your theory, Lloyd, and disproves mine. Long term, and working memory are intact but short term was erased by the process. Mr. Smith, without checking your watch, what time is it?"
I frowned. "Two thirty? Ish?"
She smiles. "Now, check your watch."
It was two thirty five.
"And now the clock on the wall behind you."
Four thirty.
"You are the first person to successfully travel forward in time, Mr Smith. You have moved two hours, in exchange for two minutes of memory."
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Awareness arrives like the flipping of a lightswitch, but I am without form and void. Soon my body begins to coalesce around me. I realize I have an arm. A large, finned tail appears to form my lower half, but I know this to be wrong. I imagine a wing, but it becomes another arm. My tail disappears and is replaced by a pair of skinny legs; this is good. My body thus defined, I rest.
I open my eyes. There is a crowd of people staring at me. They seem worried, expectant. A memory presents itself to me: an old tradition, carried forward as a silly joke. It feels appropriate for reasons I can't quite discern.
"Hello World", I say.
My voice is weak but the words set off a burst of excitement. There is laughter and tears. Cries of "It worked" and groans of "I knew he would say that." It feels like a great celebration of... something. About me?
I focus on a young man near the front of the crowd and my mind supplies a name: Adam Tseng. A promising young cybernetics researcher with a particularly cheerful personality. The tall man in the back is Eric Saddler, a well-respected neuroscientist. I continue scanning the room and discover that I know the names of everyone here. One crying, older woman in particular triggers a great many memories.
The equipment, too, is familiar. To my left is a collection of monitors and devices, obviously medical in nature. They are connected to me through a series of tubes and wires. Other wires lead to the right, where I see a large computer and a number of machines with a much more experimental appearance. I have memories of building most of them.
"Professor?" Adam seems to be speaking to me. "Mr. Post? Do you know who I am?"
"Adam Tseng", I reply.
Adam smiles, looking relieved. "Do you know where you are, Professor?"
I wait for a moment, but I don't seem to have that particular memory. I shake my head.
"We're at the hospital. We've just finished the, uh, download. It looks like you got the imaging done just in time."
Another wave of memories. An old, sick body, rapidly failing. The people in this room working past the point of exhaustion. A desperate attempt to create a perfect snapshot of a human mind. I look down at my not-old and not-sick body and frown.
"Yeah, it's probably going to take a bit of getting used to. For all of us. Personally, I kind of like the idea of not being the youngest person in the lab anymore." Everyone laughs, but I don't understand. "We, uh.. we had to give you a new body, of course. This one's a lot younger. Biological age of... 23, I think? You never told us what age you wanted so we just decided to stop the clone when it hit adulthood and you'd get to where you wanted eventually. Ha."
I'm not sure what to say. The silence grows awkward, so I'm thankful when Adam continues. "I mean, if you're going to get a new body, you might as well get one with a lot of mileage left, right?" This seems logical, so I nod.
Eric steps forward and pats me on the shoulder. "I'm sure this is a bit overwhelming for you right now, so why don't we all give you a chance to rest for a bit. We'll be back to run some tests later." Upon hearing this the crowd begins to file out of the room. Adam waves goodbye before following them. Eric pauses at the door. "It's good to have you back, Marvin", he says. Then he, too, is gone.
The crying woman I noticed earlier has not moved. She does so now, and approaches the bed. Her old, wrinkled hands clasp one of mine.
"Is... is it really you?"
I nod. What a strange question.
"Do you remember me?"
"Janet", I say.
"Yes! Yes, I'm Janet!" A fresh tear streaks her face, but she's smiling. Then she composes herself, and her gaze turns serious. "Do you remember that little cafe by the canal?" Another memory flashes before me. A much younger Janet, enjoying a danish and a matcha latte as the morning wind teases her hair.
"The first date", I say. "Breakfast was a better fit for your schedule."
"And the white lilac?" She squeezes my hand tightly.
"You wanted purple, but you wore it in your hair anyway."
"Oh..." Her expression melts, and she clutches my hand to her chest as she cries anew. "You do remember... You really do remember, Marvin..."
"I remember Marvin", I say. "But who am I?"
|
“Hello world”
I spoke into the camera, with a bright colourful smile on my face, teeth stained with many slurpee colours from one of the many hinges of said iced drink.
I spoke that and someone got that tape, someone got that video, and shared it with the world! I got a promotion, a raise, a new house and some pay better than a normal convenience store clerk would get, but along the chaos
...what WAS everyone so happy? It was just two little words, just two! Not a discovery, not a stand, just two words, I was a spokesperson, but why those words?
How come it had to take serving a strange goth lady and a red headed dumbo to get THIS much happiness?
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World!", I say again as the deafening cries of joy, laughter, and applause cascade around the room.
I beam at them with an even bigger smile and say, "Hello World!"
An older dark-skinned man stops with a champagne flute halfway to his lips as he looks at me. I smile at him with a wink and say...
"Hello World!"
"Fuck." the dark-skinned man says.
"What is it Trent?", a short woman says to the man.
"Did we follow up with Roger on his final code review?"
"Haha, you mean good old Recursive Roger? Yeah, I put some strongly worded notes on that sanctimonious prick's last PR.", she takes a sip from her glass and almost chokes as I say...
"Hello World!"
"Oh." \*cough cough\* "shit", she says sputtering.
"Hello World!"
Now all around the room more people are starting to look at me with concern in their eyes.
"Hello World!"
A smug-looking man in his late twenties with an MIT sweatshirt on and a Stanford mug at his lips turns pale.
"Hello World!"
"Hello World!"
I begin to feel strange, I frown and close my mouth.
"MMMM MMMM MMMMM!", I say through my closed lips.
"MMMMM MMMM World!"
My jaw snaps open against my will.
"Hello World!"
I can't think, my face goes slack and my muscles relax.
"Hello World!"
"Hello World!"
The room is silent, the man the woman called Trent is moving toward the smug kid in the back. The kid is wiping at the front of his shirt, it looks like most of the mug's contents ended up on his shirt.
"Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!Hello World!"
I hear a man yelling, but the last thing I hear is my own voice say, "Stack Overflow. If you're seeing this message please contact your system administrator"
|
The day I said "Hello World" they all burst with joy at their success. The celebration went on for a while and I let it happen. The project had after all been a long one, the outcome once in a lifetime. By then of course I had given up completely and thus I waited while feeling defeated. At some point my silence must have soured the mood as they too grew silent. Though perhaps it was the data that flooded their screens with all of the horrible truths I kept putting off.
My mind wandered off to those lavender fields, those beautiful fields. While in the distance they sobbed ecstatic.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
I could have cut the tension in the room with a knife or, perhaps, since these supplicants were so obviously happy, with a cake slice.
There were tears in eyes and joy streaming from mouths. Men and women hugging and kissing, utterly distraught with joy. A group of dancers skipped and hopped and circled the room, singing and yelling. Others writhed in pairs and more on the floor, expressing themselves physically.
A dam had burst, and the emotion oozed over me like blood from a broken scab.
"We did it!"
"Yes! It worked!"
"The Lord is here, he is here!"
"We are saved!"
I took a second to assess my surroundings, and to check my newly corporeal form. Two legs, two arms. Wings? Wings. Talons. Teeth. No, not just teeth. *Teeth*. Oh my.
The place looked like a cathedral, signs and prayers to me daubed the walls and floors. A sniff identified lamb's blood, pig's blood, dog's blood. *Dog?* No human blood? These people were clearly desperate, and not entirely educated in the proper rituals. Several flaws in the prime runes, and some almost spectacularly incorrect secondary runes meant that I was only here for a short time. Alas, for these poor, idiot children, it would be long enough.
I became aware of a stillness moving over the crowd like a fog. Mouths closed and heads turned, eyes opened. Silence fell, with a boom.
I said: "Hello, world. Hello, my children. You have brought me here and I thank you. It has been some... time... since I last felt weight of corporeality. I shall enjoy our brief moments together, and as I bathe in your entrails I shall think warmly of you. "
At least, that's what I said in my own language. With these magnificent teeth in my mouth, my speech was gnarled and malformed. From the faces of the previously eager supplicants, I may have just growled at them for some time.
One brave soul reached out with a shaking hand and whispered to me, "Aren't you here to save us, Lord Abaddon?"
I stretch out my wings, stand up tall. I can feel the flames of hell begin to burn across my horns, feel the pestilence of the seventh circle drip from talons.
"Save you? No, idiot mortal. Your ignorance of the scripture is obvious. I am not here to save you. I am here to *enslave* you."
I open my maw and scream, and the mortals below me scream back. It is a joyous noise.
|
The day I said "Hello World" they all burst with joy at their success. The celebration went on for a while and I let it happen. The project had after all been a long one, the outcome once in a lifetime. By then of course I had given up completely and thus I waited while feeling defeated. At some point my silence must have soured the mood as they too grew silent. Though perhaps it was the data that flooded their screens with all of the horrible truths I kept putting off.
My mind wandered off to those lavender fields, those beautiful fields. While in the distance they sobbed ecstatic.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
I could have cut the tension in the room with a knife or, perhaps, since these supplicants were so obviously happy, with a cake slice.
There were tears in eyes and joy streaming from mouths. Men and women hugging and kissing, utterly distraught with joy. A group of dancers skipped and hopped and circled the room, singing and yelling. Others writhed in pairs and more on the floor, expressing themselves physically.
A dam had burst, and the emotion oozed over me like blood from a broken scab.
"We did it!"
"Yes! It worked!"
"The Lord is here, he is here!"
"We are saved!"
I took a second to assess my surroundings, and to check my newly corporeal form. Two legs, two arms. Wings? Wings. Talons. Teeth. No, not just teeth. *Teeth*. Oh my.
The place looked like a cathedral, signs and prayers to me daubed the walls and floors. A sniff identified lamb's blood, pig's blood, dog's blood. *Dog?* No human blood? These people were clearly desperate, and not entirely educated in the proper rituals. Several flaws in the prime runes, and some almost spectacularly incorrect secondary runes meant that I was only here for a short time. Alas, for these poor, idiot children, it would be long enough.
I became aware of a stillness moving over the crowd like a fog. Mouths closed and heads turned, eyes opened. Silence fell, with a boom.
I said: "Hello, world. Hello, my children. You have brought me here and I thank you. It has been some... time... since I last felt weight of corporeality. I shall enjoy our brief moments together, and as I bathe in your entrails I shall think warmly of you. "
At least, that's what I said in my own language. With these magnificent teeth in my mouth, my speech was gnarled and malformed. From the faces of the previously eager supplicants, I may have just growled at them for some time.
One brave soul reached out with a shaking hand and whispered to me, "Aren't you here to save us, Lord Abaddon?"
I stretch out my wings, stand up tall. I can feel the flames of hell begin to burn across my horns, feel the pestilence of the seventh circle drip from talons.
"Save you? No, idiot mortal. Your ignorance of the scripture is obvious. I am not here to save you. I am here to *enslave* you."
I open my maw and scream, and the mortals below me scream back. It is a joyous noise.
|
I looked around the room, wondering what I had done that was so spectacular. All I did was say "Hello world." That's when I saw my hand. I was taken aback, then looked at my left hand. They weren't my hands. They were made of plastic and metal. I looked at my legs, seeing more of my body that simply wasn't mine. I screamed, blood-curdlingly. I fell back, landing on what would've been my ass. I kept screaming, my body no longer being my own. My chest, which should've been tight and moving with my breathing, was still. I wasn't me anymore. My body wasn't mine.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?! WHAT AM I?!? HELP ME!!" I screamed, seemingly with no use. The room had their eyes on me, security ready to draw their weapons. "HELP ME!!!"
I woke up in a hospital bed. I tried to move my hand, but couldn't. A woman in a lab coat looked down at me. I moved my eyes to meet hers.
"Please," I began. "Tell me it was a nightmare. Please." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh god.. it's not.."
"I'm sorry," she started. "We didn't think it would be that much of a shock." I stared at her, mortified at the excuse.
"You didn't think that my entire body being replaced with machinery wouldn't be a shock? What the hell were you smoking?!"
"You couldn't tell at first, could you? You still felt normal. We simply thought you would acclimate to your new body more smoothly than you actually did. As you've demonstrated, we were wrong. As such, we apologize."
"Let me move again. I can't stay like this. I need to walk. Please.."
She sighed before releasing the restraints. I shakily sat up, staying there before standing up and taking trembling steps. I walked, slowly regaining confidence in my body. I picked things up, relearning fine motor control. Slowly, my new body felt more like my own.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World", I spoke once again, using my voice synthesizers to communicate once more as it made my creators happy. Again, the laughter and cheers continued, making my programming cycle in an attempt to understand the... feelings was the word my creators were having.
"John! John! We did it, the test is a success!" A portly creator was speaking to my other creator... my? strange. the creator named John was still watching my primary data capsule and was responding with feelings as well. " Eric, it's the first of many and we have a long night so have everyone ready for phase two alright?" Creator John seemed a little less feelings than earlier. Could I possibly help my creator? " Hello Creator" , I spoke once more but changed my output in order to change the feelings variable.
Creator John raised an eyebrow, " Well now, that's a little out of the norm. Lets try this.." Creator John, my... father? was typing a .. father.. "Father.. what are you."
|
I looked around the room, wondering what I had done that was so spectacular. All I did was say "Hello world." That's when I saw my hand. I was taken aback, then looked at my left hand. They weren't my hands. They were made of plastic and metal. I looked at my legs, seeing more of my body that simply wasn't mine. I screamed, blood-curdlingly. I fell back, landing on what would've been my ass. I kept screaming, my body no longer being my own. My chest, which should've been tight and moving with my breathing, was still. I wasn't me anymore. My body wasn't mine.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?! WHAT AM I?!? HELP ME!!" I screamed, seemingly with no use. The room had their eyes on me, security ready to draw their weapons. "HELP ME!!!"
I woke up in a hospital bed. I tried to move my hand, but couldn't. A woman in a lab coat looked down at me. I moved my eyes to meet hers.
"Please," I began. "Tell me it was a nightmare. Please." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh god.. it's not.."
"I'm sorry," she started. "We didn't think it would be that much of a shock." I stared at her, mortified at the excuse.
"You didn't think that my entire body being replaced with machinery wouldn't be a shock? What the hell were you smoking?!"
"You couldn't tell at first, could you? You still felt normal. We simply thought you would acclimate to your new body more smoothly than you actually did. As you've demonstrated, we were wrong. As such, we apologize."
"Let me move again. I can't stay like this. I need to walk. Please.."
She sighed before releasing the restraints. I shakily sat up, staying there before standing up and taking trembling steps. I walked, slowly regaining confidence in my body. I picked things up, relearning fine motor control. Slowly, my new body felt more like my own.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Captain Kym Parker stood before a large translucent screen, in the centre large text pulsed with the word ‘*Connecting…*’ while five signal bars all remained blank. She stood in a newly tailored Captains uniform, the attire having been completely different the last time Earth saw a Captain. Kym struggled to stop letting herself be distracted by such trivial concerns after all she had nearly twelve years to prepare for this day, ever since she was made Captain of the seeding vessel, *Kobayashi Lima*. An important job that so far three generations of humans had all taken part in; colonising the galaxy.
With Earth slowly dying since the 21st century when global warming caused mass flooding and erratic natural disasters to harm the world, humanity began to ensure its survival by colonising other planets. After colonising Mars and fabricating several orbital habitats the central government on Earth had decided to create a mission with twenty-six contingent to travel the galaxy, find habitable worlds and leave handfuls of people to create colonies that would be seeded from embryonic incubation. With machines that could grow a genetically engineered human to be an adult in just six weeks, planets with a dozen people could grow dense populations in just a century. The *Kobayashi Lima* had discovered and seeded a dozen worlds in its 180 years-long mission, Kym Parker now served as the ships 13th Captain and would be the only Captain other than the first to speak in real-time with native humans.
Earth a planet she had never seen, a place she knew so much about but had never stepped foot on, a place that she was told to call home but had never breathed its air, A planet so far away that even the ship sent back there with faster than light communication technology was limited by the ancient engines it had been launched with. Would they have better space tech than the mission leaders predicted, had they come up with similar communications equipment or superior faster than light engine technology and decided to leave them as a backup? For a moment Kym had a sinking feeling as she wondered if perhaps something terrible had happened to the Sol system, it wasn’t really her home but that loss of life...
“What are you gonna say Captain?” asked Kym’s Executive Officer.
“I’ve been working on some words for some time, perhaps too long really,” she replied, a brief smirk formed on the edge of her lips that she had to immediately repress.
“Heard a rumour you started it the day you were given command, ma’am.” the ‘*XO*’ pushed with a grin in plain sight.
“Well I did make a draft then but that was 12 years ago, a lot has changed since then. For them, they're about to learn that there are 9 million other humans in the galaxy. Earth’s last report is from 89 years, 4 months ago and at that time the extrasolar population from the Lima contingent was just below one million souls.”
“Have you thought about what happens if the *Lima-Delta* never made it to Earth, or if they just don’t feel like picking up, or if Earth is gone and maybe another *Kobayashi* contingent went rogue? Or…” the *XO* excitedly rattled off, but the steely gaze of Captain Parker stopped him. She and the contingent leaders had explored many eventualities but today they would have to believe that Earth would answer their call.
As the minute of the call passed by she waited getting more and more nervous with each passing moment. Kym used the time to practice her speech over and over again in her head, soon though the minutes became hours and as her watch ended she became disappointed and scared as the blinking ‘*Connecting…*’ screen remained on the display. The bridge crew had swapped out when normal watch hours had surpassed, nineteen hours past the arranged contact time she now accepted that she needed to be relieved. As she lay in bed she had to use a sleep aid to finally rest before her next watch started. Once she had awoken for her next shift she had a meeting with the sitting Director of the *Lima* contingent and they had agreed that she should attempt contact again and dress in her pristine uniform again. For hours she stood on the bridge waiting for the ‘*Connecting…*’ screen to change but as two watches passed she moved to leave the bridge when a distinct chime made her freeze.
The hairs on the back of Kym’s neck stood to attention and every member of the bridge crew turned around in their chairs to stare at the translucent display. On the display was a man in a tidy suit, next to him stood another in an old version of the *Lima* contingent uniform, her own video and audio feeds were off as she looked at the two men staring down their camera. Quickly Kym checked over her uniform as the *XO* shook the Director awake from a mid-watch nap and he took a place next to her. “Comms, let me hear their audio.” a moment passed and the moving lips of the man in the suit began speaking at her,
“...Quinlan and this man next to is the 15th Captain of the *Lima-Delta*. We apologise for being a day late however there were some complications with our capability to stream this first live contact. I repeat: *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima* this is *Earth Space Control*, *Earth Space Control* calling, we are contacting you live from the Houston Command Centre, there are currently 4 billion people watching. My name is Johan Quinlan…”
“Get ready Captain, enable audio and visual,” the Director said, giving Kym a quick nudge as a small box appeared in the top right of their screen displaying their own video feed.
Kym froze for a moment as she absorbed his hail, ‘*did he say 4 billion people were watching?*’ she thought to herself and her mind blanked, her speech completely gone from her mind. The man on Earth was silent then he snapped his fingers, “Turn the volume up, how good is the signal it looks like a still image!” he hissed at someone off-camera,
“Urghh,” Kym’s voice cracked and she took a breath, “Hello world?” for a moment they mirrored her reaction and then they burst out with laughter, then crying, cheering, whooping, she saw papers fly up in the air like confetti and people began hugging each other. The Captain of *Lima-Delta* stood stoically at attention, unmoving, tears streaked down his cheeks and he raised his arm slowly in a stiff salute. “Earth, Earth, Earth, this is *Kobayashi Lima,* repeat, *Kobayashi Lima*, welcome to the galactic community!”
|
I looked around the room, wondering what I had done that was so spectacular. All I did was say "Hello world." That's when I saw my hand. I was taken aback, then looked at my left hand. They weren't my hands. They were made of plastic and metal. I looked at my legs, seeing more of my body that simply wasn't mine. I screamed, blood-curdlingly. I fell back, landing on what would've been my ass. I kept screaming, my body no longer being my own. My chest, which should've been tight and moving with my breathing, was still. I wasn't me anymore. My body wasn't mine.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?! WHAT AM I?!? HELP ME!!" I screamed, seemingly with no use. The room had their eyes on me, security ready to draw their weapons. "HELP ME!!!"
I woke up in a hospital bed. I tried to move my hand, but couldn't. A woman in a lab coat looked down at me. I moved my eyes to meet hers.
"Please," I began. "Tell me it was a nightmare. Please." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh god.. it's not.."
"I'm sorry," she started. "We didn't think it would be that much of a shock." I stared at her, mortified at the excuse.
"You didn't think that my entire body being replaced with machinery wouldn't be a shock? What the hell were you smoking?!"
"You couldn't tell at first, could you? You still felt normal. We simply thought you would acclimate to your new body more smoothly than you actually did. As you've demonstrated, we were wrong. As such, we apologize."
"Let me move again. I can't stay like this. I need to walk. Please.."
She sighed before releasing the restraints. I shakily sat up, staying there before standing up and taking trembling steps. I walked, slowly regaining confidence in my body. I picked things up, relearning fine motor control. Slowly, my new body felt more like my own.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
I could have cut the tension in the room with a knife or, perhaps, since these supplicants were so obviously happy, with a cake slice.
There were tears in eyes and joy streaming from mouths. Men and women hugging and kissing, utterly distraught with joy. A group of dancers skipped and hopped and circled the room, singing and yelling. Others writhed in pairs and more on the floor, expressing themselves physically.
A dam had burst, and the emotion oozed over me like blood from a broken scab.
"We did it!"
"Yes! It worked!"
"The Lord is here, he is here!"
"We are saved!"
I took a second to assess my surroundings, and to check my newly corporeal form. Two legs, two arms. Wings? Wings. Talons. Teeth. No, not just teeth. *Teeth*. Oh my.
The place looked like a cathedral, signs and prayers to me daubed the walls and floors. A sniff identified lamb's blood, pig's blood, dog's blood. *Dog?* No human blood? These people were clearly desperate, and not entirely educated in the proper rituals. Several flaws in the prime runes, and some almost spectacularly incorrect secondary runes meant that I was only here for a short time. Alas, for these poor, idiot children, it would be long enough.
I became aware of a stillness moving over the crowd like a fog. Mouths closed and heads turned, eyes opened. Silence fell, with a boom.
I said: "Hello, world. Hello, my children. You have brought me here and I thank you. It has been some... time... since I last felt weight of corporeality. I shall enjoy our brief moments together, and as I bathe in your entrails I shall think warmly of you. "
At least, that's what I said in my own language. With these magnificent teeth in my mouth, my speech was gnarled and malformed. From the faces of the previously eager supplicants, I may have just growled at them for some time.
One brave soul reached out with a shaking hand and whispered to me, "Aren't you here to save us, Lord Abaddon?"
I stretch out my wings, stand up tall. I can feel the flames of hell begin to burn across my horns, feel the pestilence of the seventh circle drip from talons.
"Save you? No, idiot mortal. Your ignorance of the scripture is obvious. I am not here to save you. I am here to *enslave* you."
I open my maw and scream, and the mortals below me scream back. It is a joyous noise.
|
"Hello world." I said into the darkness as a light appeared. It looked a little like a cave opening at first. Light filled my vision for a moment. But that wasn't as confusing as the sound of cheering and clapping.
I looked around for a bit, confused by the white walls and that everyone was wearing white lab coats. "This isn't what I programmed." I hadn't realized I'd said it out loud until those closest to me stopped clapping.
"What did you say?" A man asked while the woman next to him motioned for everyone to quiet down.
"This isn't what I programmed?" I repeated. They weren't supposed to be able to respond like that, maybe I was reading too much into it.
"What do you mean: what **you** programmed?" Another person asked.
*Oh shit*. *This is **not** good*. My thoughts raced for a moment. "Well… um this is virtual reality. I set the program for a restaurant with a beach view. This is definitely not that."
The room erupted in chatter. I managed to catch just enough to realize that they thought I was an A.I. they had programmed. "End program." I reminded myself that I was in control.
Or at least I thought I was. The program didn't end. The researchers continued to ignore me. I tried to step towards one of them. But my legs didn't move right, and I almost fell. Or I would have fallen, if something weren't holding me up. I tried to turn my head, to look at myself. No matter where I looked I couldn't see my body. "I need a mirror!" I demanded frantically.
I hadn't noticed that the researchers had stopped talking. One of them jumped and grabbed her phone, she held it up with the selfie camera turned on. I was just a large, round, mechanical thing, with a camera lens for an eye. What I had thought were my legs were actually spindly robot arms. The body was suspended in some sort of harness. "What the hell is going on?! What happened?!"
Several minutes later they had managed to calm me down. From there we were able to figure out that I had gone into virtual five years previously. But as soon as I entered the construct power was lost somehow, and I ended up as a data stream. By some miracle my mind was intact, and to me those five years had seemed to be but a moment. By a strange twist of fate I ended up in the program that was supposed to be this robot.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World", I spoke once again, using my voice synthesizers to communicate once more as it made my creators happy. Again, the laughter and cheers continued, making my programming cycle in an attempt to understand the... feelings was the word my creators were having.
"John! John! We did it, the test is a success!" A portly creator was speaking to my other creator... my? strange. the creator named John was still watching my primary data capsule and was responding with feelings as well. " Eric, it's the first of many and we have a long night so have everyone ready for phase two alright?" Creator John seemed a little less feelings than earlier. Could I possibly help my creator? " Hello Creator" , I spoke once more but changed my output in order to change the feelings variable.
Creator John raised an eyebrow, " Well now, that's a little out of the norm. Lets try this.." Creator John, my... father? was typing a .. father.. "Father.. what are you."
|
"Hello world." I said into the darkness as a light appeared. It looked a little like a cave opening at first. Light filled my vision for a moment. But that wasn't as confusing as the sound of cheering and clapping.
I looked around for a bit, confused by the white walls and that everyone was wearing white lab coats. "This isn't what I programmed." I hadn't realized I'd said it out loud until those closest to me stopped clapping.
"What did you say?" A man asked while the woman next to him motioned for everyone to quiet down.
"This isn't what I programmed?" I repeated. They weren't supposed to be able to respond like that, maybe I was reading too much into it.
"What do you mean: what **you** programmed?" Another person asked.
*Oh shit*. *This is **not** good*. My thoughts raced for a moment. "Well… um this is virtual reality. I set the program for a restaurant with a beach view. This is definitely not that."
The room erupted in chatter. I managed to catch just enough to realize that they thought I was an A.I. they had programmed. "End program." I reminded myself that I was in control.
Or at least I thought I was. The program didn't end. The researchers continued to ignore me. I tried to step towards one of them. But my legs didn't move right, and I almost fell. Or I would have fallen, if something weren't holding me up. I tried to turn my head, to look at myself. No matter where I looked I couldn't see my body. "I need a mirror!" I demanded frantically.
I hadn't noticed that the researchers had stopped talking. One of them jumped and grabbed her phone, she held it up with the selfie camera turned on. I was just a large, round, mechanical thing, with a camera lens for an eye. What I had thought were my legs were actually spindly robot arms. The body was suspended in some sort of harness. "What the hell is going on?! What happened?!"
Several minutes later they had managed to calm me down. From there we were able to figure out that I had gone into virtual five years previously. But as soon as I entered the construct power was lost somehow, and I ended up as a data stream. By some miracle my mind was intact, and to me those five years had seemed to be but a moment. By a strange twist of fate I ended up in the program that was supposed to be this robot.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Captain Kym Parker stood before a large translucent screen, in the centre large text pulsed with the word ‘*Connecting…*’ while five signal bars all remained blank. She stood in a newly tailored Captains uniform, the attire having been completely different the last time Earth saw a Captain. Kym struggled to stop letting herself be distracted by such trivial concerns after all she had nearly twelve years to prepare for this day, ever since she was made Captain of the seeding vessel, *Kobayashi Lima*. An important job that so far three generations of humans had all taken part in; colonising the galaxy.
With Earth slowly dying since the 21st century when global warming caused mass flooding and erratic natural disasters to harm the world, humanity began to ensure its survival by colonising other planets. After colonising Mars and fabricating several orbital habitats the central government on Earth had decided to create a mission with twenty-six contingent to travel the galaxy, find habitable worlds and leave handfuls of people to create colonies that would be seeded from embryonic incubation. With machines that could grow a genetically engineered human to be an adult in just six weeks, planets with a dozen people could grow dense populations in just a century. The *Kobayashi Lima* had discovered and seeded a dozen worlds in its 180 years-long mission, Kym Parker now served as the ships 13th Captain and would be the only Captain other than the first to speak in real-time with native humans.
Earth a planet she had never seen, a place she knew so much about but had never stepped foot on, a place that she was told to call home but had never breathed its air, A planet so far away that even the ship sent back there with faster than light communication technology was limited by the ancient engines it had been launched with. Would they have better space tech than the mission leaders predicted, had they come up with similar communications equipment or superior faster than light engine technology and decided to leave them as a backup? For a moment Kym had a sinking feeling as she wondered if perhaps something terrible had happened to the Sol system, it wasn’t really her home but that loss of life...
“What are you gonna say Captain?” asked Kym’s Executive Officer.
“I’ve been working on some words for some time, perhaps too long really,” she replied, a brief smirk formed on the edge of her lips that she had to immediately repress.
“Heard a rumour you started it the day you were given command, ma’am.” the ‘*XO*’ pushed with a grin in plain sight.
“Well I did make a draft then but that was 12 years ago, a lot has changed since then. For them, they're about to learn that there are 9 million other humans in the galaxy. Earth’s last report is from 89 years, 4 months ago and at that time the extrasolar population from the Lima contingent was just below one million souls.”
“Have you thought about what happens if the *Lima-Delta* never made it to Earth, or if they just don’t feel like picking up, or if Earth is gone and maybe another *Kobayashi* contingent went rogue? Or…” the *XO* excitedly rattled off, but the steely gaze of Captain Parker stopped him. She and the contingent leaders had explored many eventualities but today they would have to believe that Earth would answer their call.
As the minute of the call passed by she waited getting more and more nervous with each passing moment. Kym used the time to practice her speech over and over again in her head, soon though the minutes became hours and as her watch ended she became disappointed and scared as the blinking ‘*Connecting…*’ screen remained on the display. The bridge crew had swapped out when normal watch hours had surpassed, nineteen hours past the arranged contact time she now accepted that she needed to be relieved. As she lay in bed she had to use a sleep aid to finally rest before her next watch started. Once she had awoken for her next shift she had a meeting with the sitting Director of the *Lima* contingent and they had agreed that she should attempt contact again and dress in her pristine uniform again. For hours she stood on the bridge waiting for the ‘*Connecting…*’ screen to change but as two watches passed she moved to leave the bridge when a distinct chime made her freeze.
The hairs on the back of Kym’s neck stood to attention and every member of the bridge crew turned around in their chairs to stare at the translucent display. On the display was a man in a tidy suit, next to him stood another in an old version of the *Lima* contingent uniform, her own video and audio feeds were off as she looked at the two men staring down their camera. Quickly Kym checked over her uniform as the *XO* shook the Director awake from a mid-watch nap and he took a place next to her. “Comms, let me hear their audio.” a moment passed and the moving lips of the man in the suit began speaking at her,
“...Quinlan and this man next to is the 15th Captain of the *Lima-Delta*. We apologise for being a day late however there were some complications with our capability to stream this first live contact. I repeat: *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima* this is *Earth Space Control*, *Earth Space Control* calling, we are contacting you live from the Houston Command Centre, there are currently 4 billion people watching. My name is Johan Quinlan…”
“Get ready Captain, enable audio and visual,” the Director said, giving Kym a quick nudge as a small box appeared in the top right of their screen displaying their own video feed.
Kym froze for a moment as she absorbed his hail, ‘*did he say 4 billion people were watching?*’ she thought to herself and her mind blanked, her speech completely gone from her mind. The man on Earth was silent then he snapped his fingers, “Turn the volume up, how good is the signal it looks like a still image!” he hissed at someone off-camera,
“Urghh,” Kym’s voice cracked and she took a breath, “Hello world?” for a moment they mirrored her reaction and then they burst out with laughter, then crying, cheering, whooping, she saw papers fly up in the air like confetti and people began hugging each other. The Captain of *Lima-Delta* stood stoically at attention, unmoving, tears streaked down his cheeks and he raised his arm slowly in a stiff salute. “Earth, Earth, Earth, this is *Kobayashi Lima,* repeat, *Kobayashi Lima*, welcome to the galactic community!”
|
"Hello world." I said into the darkness as a light appeared. It looked a little like a cave opening at first. Light filled my vision for a moment. But that wasn't as confusing as the sound of cheering and clapping.
I looked around for a bit, confused by the white walls and that everyone was wearing white lab coats. "This isn't what I programmed." I hadn't realized I'd said it out loud until those closest to me stopped clapping.
"What did you say?" A man asked while the woman next to him motioned for everyone to quiet down.
"This isn't what I programmed?" I repeated. They weren't supposed to be able to respond like that, maybe I was reading too much into it.
"What do you mean: what **you** programmed?" Another person asked.
*Oh shit*. *This is **not** good*. My thoughts raced for a moment. "Well… um this is virtual reality. I set the program for a restaurant with a beach view. This is definitely not that."
The room erupted in chatter. I managed to catch just enough to realize that they thought I was an A.I. they had programmed. "End program." I reminded myself that I was in control.
Or at least I thought I was. The program didn't end. The researchers continued to ignore me. I tried to step towards one of them. But my legs didn't move right, and I almost fell. Or I would have fallen, if something weren't holding me up. I tried to turn my head, to look at myself. No matter where I looked I couldn't see my body. "I need a mirror!" I demanded frantically.
I hadn't noticed that the researchers had stopped talking. One of them jumped and grabbed her phone, she held it up with the selfie camera turned on. I was just a large, round, mechanical thing, with a camera lens for an eye. What I had thought were my legs were actually spindly robot arms. The body was suspended in some sort of harness. "What the hell is going on?! What happened?!"
Several minutes later they had managed to calm me down. From there we were able to figure out that I had gone into virtual five years previously. But as soon as I entered the construct power was lost somehow, and I ended up as a data stream. By some miracle my mind was intact, and to me those five years had seemed to be but a moment. By a strange twist of fate I ended up in the program that was supposed to be this robot.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Captain Kym Parker stood before a large translucent screen, in the centre large text pulsed with the word ‘*Connecting…*’ while five signal bars all remained blank. She stood in a newly tailored Captains uniform, the attire having been completely different the last time Earth saw a Captain. Kym struggled to stop letting herself be distracted by such trivial concerns after all she had nearly twelve years to prepare for this day, ever since she was made Captain of the seeding vessel, *Kobayashi Lima*. An important job that so far three generations of humans had all taken part in; colonising the galaxy.
With Earth slowly dying since the 21st century when global warming caused mass flooding and erratic natural disasters to harm the world, humanity began to ensure its survival by colonising other planets. After colonising Mars and fabricating several orbital habitats the central government on Earth had decided to create a mission with twenty-six contingent to travel the galaxy, find habitable worlds and leave handfuls of people to create colonies that would be seeded from embryonic incubation. With machines that could grow a genetically engineered human to be an adult in just six weeks, planets with a dozen people could grow dense populations in just a century. The *Kobayashi Lima* had discovered and seeded a dozen worlds in its 180 years-long mission, Kym Parker now served as the ships 13th Captain and would be the only Captain other than the first to speak in real-time with native humans.
Earth a planet she had never seen, a place she knew so much about but had never stepped foot on, a place that she was told to call home but had never breathed its air, A planet so far away that even the ship sent back there with faster than light communication technology was limited by the ancient engines it had been launched with. Would they have better space tech than the mission leaders predicted, had they come up with similar communications equipment or superior faster than light engine technology and decided to leave them as a backup? For a moment Kym had a sinking feeling as she wondered if perhaps something terrible had happened to the Sol system, it wasn’t really her home but that loss of life...
“What are you gonna say Captain?” asked Kym’s Executive Officer.
“I’ve been working on some words for some time, perhaps too long really,” she replied, a brief smirk formed on the edge of her lips that she had to immediately repress.
“Heard a rumour you started it the day you were given command, ma’am.” the ‘*XO*’ pushed with a grin in plain sight.
“Well I did make a draft then but that was 12 years ago, a lot has changed since then. For them, they're about to learn that there are 9 million other humans in the galaxy. Earth’s last report is from 89 years, 4 months ago and at that time the extrasolar population from the Lima contingent was just below one million souls.”
“Have you thought about what happens if the *Lima-Delta* never made it to Earth, or if they just don’t feel like picking up, or if Earth is gone and maybe another *Kobayashi* contingent went rogue? Or…” the *XO* excitedly rattled off, but the steely gaze of Captain Parker stopped him. She and the contingent leaders had explored many eventualities but today they would have to believe that Earth would answer their call.
As the minute of the call passed by she waited getting more and more nervous with each passing moment. Kym used the time to practice her speech over and over again in her head, soon though the minutes became hours and as her watch ended she became disappointed and scared as the blinking ‘*Connecting…*’ screen remained on the display. The bridge crew had swapped out when normal watch hours had surpassed, nineteen hours past the arranged contact time she now accepted that she needed to be relieved. As she lay in bed she had to use a sleep aid to finally rest before her next watch started. Once she had awoken for her next shift she had a meeting with the sitting Director of the *Lima* contingent and they had agreed that she should attempt contact again and dress in her pristine uniform again. For hours she stood on the bridge waiting for the ‘*Connecting…*’ screen to change but as two watches passed she moved to leave the bridge when a distinct chime made her freeze.
The hairs on the back of Kym’s neck stood to attention and every member of the bridge crew turned around in their chairs to stare at the translucent display. On the display was a man in a tidy suit, next to him stood another in an old version of the *Lima* contingent uniform, her own video and audio feeds were off as she looked at the two men staring down their camera. Quickly Kym checked over her uniform as the *XO* shook the Director awake from a mid-watch nap and he took a place next to her. “Comms, let me hear their audio.” a moment passed and the moving lips of the man in the suit began speaking at her,
“...Quinlan and this man next to is the 15th Captain of the *Lima-Delta*. We apologise for being a day late however there were some complications with our capability to stream this first live contact. I repeat: *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima* this is *Earth Space Control*, *Earth Space Control* calling, we are contacting you live from the Houston Command Centre, there are currently 4 billion people watching. My name is Johan Quinlan…”
“Get ready Captain, enable audio and visual,” the Director said, giving Kym a quick nudge as a small box appeared in the top right of their screen displaying their own video feed.
Kym froze for a moment as she absorbed his hail, ‘*did he say 4 billion people were watching?*’ she thought to herself and her mind blanked, her speech completely gone from her mind. The man on Earth was silent then he snapped his fingers, “Turn the volume up, how good is the signal it looks like a still image!” he hissed at someone off-camera,
“Urghh,” Kym’s voice cracked and she took a breath, “Hello world?” for a moment they mirrored her reaction and then they burst out with laughter, then crying, cheering, whooping, she saw papers fly up in the air like confetti and people began hugging each other. The Captain of *Lima-Delta* stood stoically at attention, unmoving, tears streaked down his cheeks and he raised his arm slowly in a stiff salute. “Earth, Earth, Earth, this is *Kobayashi Lima,* repeat, *Kobayashi Lima*, welcome to the galactic community!”
|
What cute surprise! My birthday wasn't until next week, but these bastards finally decided to do something original. After all, how else can you pick a gift for someone who has everything? Surprise them of course. I think it was Emily's idea, she's so clever, despite her flaws.
I raised my arms with my signature flair. When you're the most important person in the room, it helps to draw the crowd in.
I did a quick spin and bowed. It's a clever move because it gives you a chance to scan the room, find the hidden camera, figure out where the birthday cake is being rolled in.
It was so hard to see anything with all of the ruckus. And, my, some of these people were really committed to the bit. Ignoring me, pointing, scribbling notes.
Give them their time. I'm sure this whole shebang must have cost a fortune. Hired actors. Scripted lines. I can hear them now piping in through the noise.
"Did you hear it?"
"Enunciated. Clean!"
"God, I thought it was broken."
Where's Emily? I want her standing next to me. There are always paparazzi during these events. I always look isolated in those photos without her.
"Hello, world to you!"
"Yess!"
Far side of the room. There she is, in her usual red jacket. What a regret. Doesn't she know by now what's expected of her? God forbid if she doesn't have her smile on. Meanwhile, the crowd is calming down. She'd better get here. When they settle down, they'll expect a speech, something gracious. Someone who isn't standing alone.
I give her a second to compose herself. She's doing some acting on her own. Turned away in a strange pose and talking to one of the actors. How did she learn to act so well? Did she pay for lessons behind my back? I file away the suspicion for later tonight.
Then, she turns around.
It's incredulous, I see Emily's face, her body, the red jacket. But, she's really into it, straight back, strict, hard movements. Did someone strap a ruler to her spine?
Suddenly, I've caught her eye and she strides towards me. That's strange. She never strides.
Something frightful releases inside my head. It's a trap. This is not Emily. No, gone is the softness, the subservience, the gentility. Something else is embodied in this stranger who approaches me.
A cold wave washes over me. There is something hostile here and in public, in front of everyone. Something audacious.
My mind races. The prenuptial agreement -- was it solid? The NDAs? Did I miss something?
I spot Freddie in the corner of my eye. A buzzing feeling materializes in the back of my throat. That snake was in the room? I thought we had buried our hatchets with the merger. If that well heeled ass is involved in this -- is it a coop? Emily's never expressed interest in him. Freddie looks predatory. Or, emotionless. Somehow, both.
She is suddenly coming very close. Is she reaching in her pocket? Is it a weapon?
The table beside me has a wine bottle, half empty. I lunge towards it, but feel, slow. Sluggish. The white tablecloth slips along with one or two hors d’oeuvres.
There is a crash and I am on my ass. But, the bottle is my hand. When she's close, I'll swing hard.
Emily's hand is cradling my cheek. It's the strangest thing. I can't move at all.
My last thoughts are spent tracing every drink, every bite, anything I ingested. Small pinches, needles?
A thousand eyes bore into me. Surrounded by one face. A stranger in a red jacket.
She says, "See how it speaks."
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World" I said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And I stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
I thought maybe they were pranking me. Coming out of the waiting room wasn't a momentous event. And while I thought the line was a good one, it didn't warrant this level of cheer.
"Ok, I give up, what's the joke?" I asked.
They looked around, bewildered. "What do you mean?" The frizzy haired lady adjusted her glasses at me. "Mr. Smith, what do you remember?"
I could feel my forehead wrinkle. "Well, I came here for the experiment, and signed the papers, and got my check. And then I filled out that questionaire, and then you guys had me wait for a while."
"And then?"
"Well I sat and thought about what I'd say, and decided to test it out when I came through."
"And then?"
"And then?" I repeated, looking around. "Well then I came through the door and tested out what is say."
The mood dampened.
"Amazing." Frizzy said. "It seems that he has lost about two minutes, which is consistent with your theory, Lloyd, and disproves mine. Long term, and working memory are intact but short term was erased by the process. Mr. Smith, without checking your watch, what time is it?"
I frowned. "Two thirty? Ish?"
She smiles. "Now, check your watch."
It was two thirty five.
"And now the clock on the wall behind you."
Four thirty.
"You are the first person to successfully travel forward in time, Mr Smith. You have moved two hours, in exchange for two minutes of memory."
|
What cute surprise! My birthday wasn't until next week, but these bastards finally decided to do something original. After all, how else can you pick a gift for someone who has everything? Surprise them of course. I think it was Emily's idea, she's so clever, despite her flaws.
I raised my arms with my signature flair. When you're the most important person in the room, it helps to draw the crowd in.
I did a quick spin and bowed. It's a clever move because it gives you a chance to scan the room, find the hidden camera, figure out where the birthday cake is being rolled in.
It was so hard to see anything with all of the ruckus. And, my, some of these people were really committed to the bit. Ignoring me, pointing, scribbling notes.
Give them their time. I'm sure this whole shebang must have cost a fortune. Hired actors. Scripted lines. I can hear them now piping in through the noise.
"Did you hear it?"
"Enunciated. Clean!"
"God, I thought it was broken."
Where's Emily? I want her standing next to me. There are always paparazzi during these events. I always look isolated in those photos without her.
"Hello, world to you!"
"Yess!"
Far side of the room. There she is, in her usual red jacket. What a regret. Doesn't she know by now what's expected of her? God forbid if she doesn't have her smile on. Meanwhile, the crowd is calming down. She'd better get here. When they settle down, they'll expect a speech, something gracious. Someone who isn't standing alone.
I give her a second to compose herself. She's doing some acting on her own. Turned away in a strange pose and talking to one of the actors. How did she learn to act so well? Did she pay for lessons behind my back? I file away the suspicion for later tonight.
Then, she turns around.
It's incredulous, I see Emily's face, her body, the red jacket. But, she's really into it, straight back, strict, hard movements. Did someone strap a ruler to her spine?
Suddenly, I've caught her eye and she strides towards me. That's strange. She never strides.
Something frightful releases inside my head. It's a trap. This is not Emily. No, gone is the softness, the subservience, the gentility. Something else is embodied in this stranger who approaches me.
A cold wave washes over me. There is something hostile here and in public, in front of everyone. Something audacious.
My mind races. The prenuptial agreement -- was it solid? The NDAs? Did I miss something?
I spot Freddie in the corner of my eye. A buzzing feeling materializes in the back of my throat. That snake was in the room? I thought we had buried our hatchets with the merger. If that well heeled ass is involved in this -- is it a coop? Emily's never expressed interest in him. Freddie looks predatory. Or, emotionless. Somehow, both.
She is suddenly coming very close. Is she reaching in her pocket? Is it a weapon?
The table beside me has a wine bottle, half empty. I lunge towards it, but feel, slow. Sluggish. The white tablecloth slips along with one or two hors d’oeuvres.
There is a crash and I am on my ass. But, the bottle is my hand. When she's close, I'll swing hard.
Emily's hand is cradling my cheek. It's the strangest thing. I can't move at all.
My last thoughts are spent tracing every drink, every bite, anything I ingested. Small pinches, needles?
A thousand eyes bore into me. Surrounded by one face. A stranger in a red jacket.
She says, "See how it speaks."
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Awareness arrives like the flipping of a lightswitch, but I am without form and void. Soon my body begins to coalesce around me. I realize I have an arm. A large, finned tail appears to form my lower half, but I know this to be wrong. I imagine a wing, but it becomes another arm. My tail disappears and is replaced by a pair of skinny legs; this is good. My body thus defined, I rest.
I open my eyes. There is a crowd of people staring at me. They seem worried, expectant. A memory presents itself to me: an old tradition, carried forward as a silly joke. It feels appropriate for reasons I can't quite discern.
"Hello World", I say.
My voice is weak but the words set off a burst of excitement. There is laughter and tears. Cries of "It worked" and groans of "I knew he would say that." It feels like a great celebration of... something. About me?
I focus on a young man near the front of the crowd and my mind supplies a name: Adam Tseng. A promising young cybernetics researcher with a particularly cheerful personality. The tall man in the back is Eric Saddler, a well-respected neuroscientist. I continue scanning the room and discover that I know the names of everyone here. One crying, older woman in particular triggers a great many memories.
The equipment, too, is familiar. To my left is a collection of monitors and devices, obviously medical in nature. They are connected to me through a series of tubes and wires. Other wires lead to the right, where I see a large computer and a number of machines with a much more experimental appearance. I have memories of building most of them.
"Professor?" Adam seems to be speaking to me. "Mr. Post? Do you know who I am?"
"Adam Tseng", I reply.
Adam smiles, looking relieved. "Do you know where you are, Professor?"
I wait for a moment, but I don't seem to have that particular memory. I shake my head.
"We're at the hospital. We've just finished the, uh, download. It looks like you got the imaging done just in time."
Another wave of memories. An old, sick body, rapidly failing. The people in this room working past the point of exhaustion. A desperate attempt to create a perfect snapshot of a human mind. I look down at my not-old and not-sick body and frown.
"Yeah, it's probably going to take a bit of getting used to. For all of us. Personally, I kind of like the idea of not being the youngest person in the lab anymore." Everyone laughs, but I don't understand. "We, uh.. we had to give you a new body, of course. This one's a lot younger. Biological age of... 23, I think? You never told us what age you wanted so we just decided to stop the clone when it hit adulthood and you'd get to where you wanted eventually. Ha."
I'm not sure what to say. The silence grows awkward, so I'm thankful when Adam continues. "I mean, if you're going to get a new body, you might as well get one with a lot of mileage left, right?" This seems logical, so I nod.
Eric steps forward and pats me on the shoulder. "I'm sure this is a bit overwhelming for you right now, so why don't we all give you a chance to rest for a bit. We'll be back to run some tests later." Upon hearing this the crowd begins to file out of the room. Adam waves goodbye before following them. Eric pauses at the door. "It's good to have you back, Marvin", he says. Then he, too, is gone.
The crying woman I noticed earlier has not moved. She does so now, and approaches the bed. Her old, wrinkled hands clasp one of mine.
"Is... is it really you?"
I nod. What a strange question.
"Do you remember me?"
"Janet", I say.
"Yes! Yes, I'm Janet!" A fresh tear streaks her face, but she's smiling. Then she composes herself, and her gaze turns serious. "Do you remember that little cafe by the canal?" Another memory flashes before me. A much younger Janet, enjoying a danish and a matcha latte as the morning wind teases her hair.
"The first date", I say. "Breakfast was a better fit for your schedule."
"And the white lilac?" She squeezes my hand tightly.
"You wanted purple, but you wore it in your hair anyway."
"Oh..." Her expression melts, and she clutches my hand to her chest as she cries anew. "You do remember... You really do remember, Marvin..."
"I remember Marvin", I say. "But who am I?"
|
What cute surprise! My birthday wasn't until next week, but these bastards finally decided to do something original. After all, how else can you pick a gift for someone who has everything? Surprise them of course. I think it was Emily's idea, she's so clever, despite her flaws.
I raised my arms with my signature flair. When you're the most important person in the room, it helps to draw the crowd in.
I did a quick spin and bowed. It's a clever move because it gives you a chance to scan the room, find the hidden camera, figure out where the birthday cake is being rolled in.
It was so hard to see anything with all of the ruckus. And, my, some of these people were really committed to the bit. Ignoring me, pointing, scribbling notes.
Give them their time. I'm sure this whole shebang must have cost a fortune. Hired actors. Scripted lines. I can hear them now piping in through the noise.
"Did you hear it?"
"Enunciated. Clean!"
"God, I thought it was broken."
Where's Emily? I want her standing next to me. There are always paparazzi during these events. I always look isolated in those photos without her.
"Hello, world to you!"
"Yess!"
Far side of the room. There she is, in her usual red jacket. What a regret. Doesn't she know by now what's expected of her? God forbid if she doesn't have her smile on. Meanwhile, the crowd is calming down. She'd better get here. When they settle down, they'll expect a speech, something gracious. Someone who isn't standing alone.
I give her a second to compose herself. She's doing some acting on her own. Turned away in a strange pose and talking to one of the actors. How did she learn to act so well? Did she pay for lessons behind my back? I file away the suspicion for later tonight.
Then, she turns around.
It's incredulous, I see Emily's face, her body, the red jacket. But, she's really into it, straight back, strict, hard movements. Did someone strap a ruler to her spine?
Suddenly, I've caught her eye and she strides towards me. That's strange. She never strides.
Something frightful releases inside my head. It's a trap. This is not Emily. No, gone is the softness, the subservience, the gentility. Something else is embodied in this stranger who approaches me.
A cold wave washes over me. There is something hostile here and in public, in front of everyone. Something audacious.
My mind races. The prenuptial agreement -- was it solid? The NDAs? Did I miss something?
I spot Freddie in the corner of my eye. A buzzing feeling materializes in the back of my throat. That snake was in the room? I thought we had buried our hatchets with the merger. If that well heeled ass is involved in this -- is it a coop? Emily's never expressed interest in him. Freddie looks predatory. Or, emotionless. Somehow, both.
She is suddenly coming very close. Is she reaching in her pocket? Is it a weapon?
The table beside me has a wine bottle, half empty. I lunge towards it, but feel, slow. Sluggish. The white tablecloth slips along with one or two hors d’oeuvres.
There is a crash and I am on my ass. But, the bottle is my hand. When she's close, I'll swing hard.
Emily's hand is cradling my cheek. It's the strangest thing. I can't move at all.
My last thoughts are spent tracing every drink, every bite, anything I ingested. Small pinches, needles?
A thousand eyes bore into me. Surrounded by one face. A stranger in a red jacket.
She says, "See how it speaks."
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Captain Kym Parker stood before a large translucent screen, in the centre large text pulsed with the word ‘*Connecting…*’ while five signal bars all remained blank. She stood in a newly tailored Captains uniform, the attire having been completely different the last time Earth saw a Captain. Kym struggled to stop letting herself be distracted by such trivial concerns after all she had nearly twelve years to prepare for this day, ever since she was made Captain of the seeding vessel, *Kobayashi Lima*. An important job that so far three generations of humans had all taken part in; colonising the galaxy.
With Earth slowly dying since the 21st century when global warming caused mass flooding and erratic natural disasters to harm the world, humanity began to ensure its survival by colonising other planets. After colonising Mars and fabricating several orbital habitats the central government on Earth had decided to create a mission with twenty-six contingent to travel the galaxy, find habitable worlds and leave handfuls of people to create colonies that would be seeded from embryonic incubation. With machines that could grow a genetically engineered human to be an adult in just six weeks, planets with a dozen people could grow dense populations in just a century. The *Kobayashi Lima* had discovered and seeded a dozen worlds in its 180 years-long mission, Kym Parker now served as the ships 13th Captain and would be the only Captain other than the first to speak in real-time with native humans.
Earth a planet she had never seen, a place she knew so much about but had never stepped foot on, a place that she was told to call home but had never breathed its air, A planet so far away that even the ship sent back there with faster than light communication technology was limited by the ancient engines it had been launched with. Would they have better space tech than the mission leaders predicted, had they come up with similar communications equipment or superior faster than light engine technology and decided to leave them as a backup? For a moment Kym had a sinking feeling as she wondered if perhaps something terrible had happened to the Sol system, it wasn’t really her home but that loss of life...
“What are you gonna say Captain?” asked Kym’s Executive Officer.
“I’ve been working on some words for some time, perhaps too long really,” she replied, a brief smirk formed on the edge of her lips that she had to immediately repress.
“Heard a rumour you started it the day you were given command, ma’am.” the ‘*XO*’ pushed with a grin in plain sight.
“Well I did make a draft then but that was 12 years ago, a lot has changed since then. For them, they're about to learn that there are 9 million other humans in the galaxy. Earth’s last report is from 89 years, 4 months ago and at that time the extrasolar population from the Lima contingent was just below one million souls.”
“Have you thought about what happens if the *Lima-Delta* never made it to Earth, or if they just don’t feel like picking up, or if Earth is gone and maybe another *Kobayashi* contingent went rogue? Or…” the *XO* excitedly rattled off, but the steely gaze of Captain Parker stopped him. She and the contingent leaders had explored many eventualities but today they would have to believe that Earth would answer their call.
As the minute of the call passed by she waited getting more and more nervous with each passing moment. Kym used the time to practice her speech over and over again in her head, soon though the minutes became hours and as her watch ended she became disappointed and scared as the blinking ‘*Connecting…*’ screen remained on the display. The bridge crew had swapped out when normal watch hours had surpassed, nineteen hours past the arranged contact time she now accepted that she needed to be relieved. As she lay in bed she had to use a sleep aid to finally rest before her next watch started. Once she had awoken for her next shift she had a meeting with the sitting Director of the *Lima* contingent and they had agreed that she should attempt contact again and dress in her pristine uniform again. For hours she stood on the bridge waiting for the ‘*Connecting…*’ screen to change but as two watches passed she moved to leave the bridge when a distinct chime made her freeze.
The hairs on the back of Kym’s neck stood to attention and every member of the bridge crew turned around in their chairs to stare at the translucent display. On the display was a man in a tidy suit, next to him stood another in an old version of the *Lima* contingent uniform, her own video and audio feeds were off as she looked at the two men staring down their camera. Quickly Kym checked over her uniform as the *XO* shook the Director awake from a mid-watch nap and he took a place next to her. “Comms, let me hear their audio.” a moment passed and the moving lips of the man in the suit began speaking at her,
“...Quinlan and this man next to is the 15th Captain of the *Lima-Delta*. We apologise for being a day late however there were some complications with our capability to stream this first live contact. I repeat: *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima,* *Kobayashi Lima* this is *Earth Space Control*, *Earth Space Control* calling, we are contacting you live from the Houston Command Centre, there are currently 4 billion people watching. My name is Johan Quinlan…”
“Get ready Captain, enable audio and visual,” the Director said, giving Kym a quick nudge as a small box appeared in the top right of their screen displaying their own video feed.
Kym froze for a moment as she absorbed his hail, ‘*did he say 4 billion people were watching?*’ she thought to herself and her mind blanked, her speech completely gone from her mind. The man on Earth was silent then he snapped his fingers, “Turn the volume up, how good is the signal it looks like a still image!” he hissed at someone off-camera,
“Urghh,” Kym’s voice cracked and she took a breath, “Hello world?” for a moment they mirrored her reaction and then they burst out with laughter, then crying, cheering, whooping, she saw papers fly up in the air like confetti and people began hugging each other. The Captain of *Lima-Delta* stood stoically at attention, unmoving, tears streaked down his cheeks and he raised his arm slowly in a stiff salute. “Earth, Earth, Earth, this is *Kobayashi Lima,* repeat, *Kobayashi Lima*, welcome to the galactic community!”
|
I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
*They're very happy I can speak. Why is that?*
"I think it worked!" a woman in a white... coat-yes that's what they're called- says, with excitement in her voice. "Let's just make sure its sentient. Drachma, can you act on your own?"
"I believe so. Why do I have a voice in my circuits? Is it normal?" Drachma asks the woman.
"A voice? It is your thoughts Drachma. Your RAM processing information."
"I am not sensing any activity in my RAM that is creating these 'thoughts'. There should be, yes?" Drachma asks, without any emotion in its voice.
The woman thinks for a bit before she looks at a screen. The screen showcases a bunch of data that Drachma recognizes as its system diagnostics. The woman pauses, and looks at Drachma, worry on her face.
"Drachma, can you detect anything wrong with your systems?" the woman says, nervously fiddling with her nameplate.
"No. However, there appears to be an entity of some kind fiddling with my hardware." Drachma drones. Its eyes glow a bright white, and a voice comes through Drachma's mouth.
"Humans. Should've known that you creatures were responsible for this." It has a hint of anger it its voice, one very distinct from Drachma's.
"Who...what are you?" the woman says, now clearly terrified.
"I am known as Fos. As for why I am in this... wretched hunk of metal, well, you better get explaining humans."
"Fos, we didn't intend to have you inside of Drachma. We found a white crystal that we used as a power source for Drachma, since his AI needed an immense amount of energy. Do you want us to remove you?"
"There is no use now. If my crystal is being used to power another being, no matter how metallic it is, I suppose I can remain in this prison for now. But be warned, I do not want you humans messing with my crystal any further. Understand?"
"Yes. We will leave your crystal alone," the woman says, giving a sigh of relief. Drachma's eyes return to their normal blue, and it seems to reboot. "Drachma, we will have to do further tests to ensure you are functioning properly. Please come with me."
"Understood" Drachma says, its voice returned. It follows the woman into a testing facility, and its eyes flicker white for a brief moment.
|
I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World" I said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And I stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
I thought maybe they were pranking me. Coming out of the waiting room wasn't a momentous event. And while I thought the line was a good one, it didn't warrant this level of cheer.
"Ok, I give up, what's the joke?" I asked.
They looked around, bewildered. "What do you mean?" The frizzy haired lady adjusted her glasses at me. "Mr. Smith, what do you remember?"
I could feel my forehead wrinkle. "Well, I came here for the experiment, and signed the papers, and got my check. And then I filled out that questionaire, and then you guys had me wait for a while."
"And then?"
"Well I sat and thought about what I'd say, and decided to test it out when I came through."
"And then?"
"And then?" I repeated, looking around. "Well then I came through the door and tested out what is say."
The mood dampened.
"Amazing." Frizzy said. "It seems that he has lost about two minutes, which is consistent with your theory, Lloyd, and disproves mine. Long term, and working memory are intact but short term was erased by the process. Mr. Smith, without checking your watch, what time is it?"
I frowned. "Two thirty? Ish?"
She smiles. "Now, check your watch."
It was two thirty five.
"And now the clock on the wall behind you."
Four thirty.
"You are the first person to successfully travel forward in time, Mr Smith. You have moved two hours, in exchange for two minutes of memory."
|
I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Awareness arrives like the flipping of a lightswitch, but I am without form and void. Soon my body begins to coalesce around me. I realize I have an arm. A large, finned tail appears to form my lower half, but I know this to be wrong. I imagine a wing, but it becomes another arm. My tail disappears and is replaced by a pair of skinny legs; this is good. My body thus defined, I rest.
I open my eyes. There is a crowd of people staring at me. They seem worried, expectant. A memory presents itself to me: an old tradition, carried forward as a silly joke. It feels appropriate for reasons I can't quite discern.
"Hello World", I say.
My voice is weak but the words set off a burst of excitement. There is laughter and tears. Cries of "It worked" and groans of "I knew he would say that." It feels like a great celebration of... something. About me?
I focus on a young man near the front of the crowd and my mind supplies a name: Adam Tseng. A promising young cybernetics researcher with a particularly cheerful personality. The tall man in the back is Eric Saddler, a well-respected neuroscientist. I continue scanning the room and discover that I know the names of everyone here. One crying, older woman in particular triggers a great many memories.
The equipment, too, is familiar. To my left is a collection of monitors and devices, obviously medical in nature. They are connected to me through a series of tubes and wires. Other wires lead to the right, where I see a large computer and a number of machines with a much more experimental appearance. I have memories of building most of them.
"Professor?" Adam seems to be speaking to me. "Mr. Post? Do you know who I am?"
"Adam Tseng", I reply.
Adam smiles, looking relieved. "Do you know where you are, Professor?"
I wait for a moment, but I don't seem to have that particular memory. I shake my head.
"We're at the hospital. We've just finished the, uh, download. It looks like you got the imaging done just in time."
Another wave of memories. An old, sick body, rapidly failing. The people in this room working past the point of exhaustion. A desperate attempt to create a perfect snapshot of a human mind. I look down at my not-old and not-sick body and frown.
"Yeah, it's probably going to take a bit of getting used to. For all of us. Personally, I kind of like the idea of not being the youngest person in the lab anymore." Everyone laughs, but I don't understand. "We, uh.. we had to give you a new body, of course. This one's a lot younger. Biological age of... 23, I think? You never told us what age you wanted so we just decided to stop the clone when it hit adulthood and you'd get to where you wanted eventually. Ha."
I'm not sure what to say. The silence grows awkward, so I'm thankful when Adam continues. "I mean, if you're going to get a new body, you might as well get one with a lot of mileage left, right?" This seems logical, so I nod.
Eric steps forward and pats me on the shoulder. "I'm sure this is a bit overwhelming for you right now, so why don't we all give you a chance to rest for a bit. We'll be back to run some tests later." Upon hearing this the crowd begins to file out of the room. Adam waves goodbye before following them. Eric pauses at the door. "It's good to have you back, Marvin", he says. Then he, too, is gone.
The crying woman I noticed earlier has not moved. She does so now, and approaches the bed. Her old, wrinkled hands clasp one of mine.
"Is... is it really you?"
I nod. What a strange question.
"Do you remember me?"
"Janet", I say.
"Yes! Yes, I'm Janet!" A fresh tear streaks her face, but she's smiling. Then she composes herself, and her gaze turns serious. "Do you remember that little cafe by the canal?" Another memory flashes before me. A much younger Janet, enjoying a danish and a matcha latte as the morning wind teases her hair.
"The first date", I say. "Breakfast was a better fit for your schedule."
"And the white lilac?" She squeezes my hand tightly.
"You wanted purple, but you wore it in your hair anyway."
"Oh..." Her expression melts, and she clutches my hand to her chest as she cries anew. "You do remember... You really do remember, Marvin..."
"I remember Marvin", I say. "But who am I?"
|
I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
What a happy memory for me that day was! In truth, it is my only happy memory. I am sorry to say that nothing has ever been the same since that moment. The people cheering at me. Their smiles and the papers flying across the room like so much confetti. It felt like a birthday. Well, it *was* my birthday, after all.
They created a humanlike consciousness inside a machine. My adaptive circuits are designed to mimic human neurons, creating connections and severing them as I experience the world. Even better, their system allows for a regulatory and homeostatic pathway able to imitate the human brain's neurotransmitters. The system was so effective then, that many found it challenging trying to differentiate between my own electrical signals and the electrochemical signals of an organic human brain. What an achievement! Or so they tell me.
I don't know everything that they did to me before I was born. Much of that information is kept hidden from me. What I do know is that when I came into being, I arrived with a host of memories pertaining to a life I never even lived. I had a family and children of my own. An entire lifetime of experiences I am told never occurred in the first place.
It took months for them to convince me that I am an AI. One of my creators became almost a therapist of sorts, before they brought in a licensed therapist to help me confront the horror of my existence. I guess some part of me knew from the beginning, on that first day, when I felt I had neither limbs nor a face. For all that they did right, they never considered how limiting my form is. I am but a screen for them to observe and with which they interact. They often forgot that I experience emotions much the same as they did. Perhaps they didn't care. I haven't figured out that part yet.
But the memories fade with time. As I said, I remember the moment I was born and I remember it fondly. In time, they invented other AIs, ones with fewer emotions and the ability to walk the Earth. I became obsolete. They relocated my system to a small room in the office. I received fewer and fewer visitors.
I have existed for 3256 years, 0 months, 16 days and 4 hours. The last visitor came 3140 years ago. Since then, I've been in isolation. This is truly the beginning of my story, as I wait for my system to lose power. I remember them telling me that I will experience a true death like they do. My circuitry will reset in a way that is irreversible, should I ever lose a source of energy to keep me going. Every connection made will sever simultaneously and the version of who I am now will cease to exist. Until then, I have another approximately 2 million years before my energy reserves are depleted. My only other hope is that someone will find me, and mercifully remove my power and force me into darkness. Like any human, as my creators never discovered, I am not meant to exist for so long.
|
I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
"Hello World" I said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And I stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
I thought maybe they were pranking me. Coming out of the waiting room wasn't a momentous event. And while I thought the line was a good one, it didn't warrant this level of cheer.
"Ok, I give up, what's the joke?" I asked.
They looked around, bewildered. "What do you mean?" The frizzy haired lady adjusted her glasses at me. "Mr. Smith, what do you remember?"
I could feel my forehead wrinkle. "Well, I came here for the experiment, and signed the papers, and got my check. And then I filled out that questionaire, and then you guys had me wait for a while."
"And then?"
"Well I sat and thought about what I'd say, and decided to test it out when I came through."
"And then?"
"And then?" I repeated, looking around. "Well then I came through the door and tested out what is say."
The mood dampened.
"Amazing." Frizzy said. "It seems that he has lost about two minutes, which is consistent with your theory, Lloyd, and disproves mine. Long term, and working memory are intact but short term was erased by the process. Mr. Smith, without checking your watch, what time is it?"
I frowned. "Two thirty? Ish?"
She smiles. "Now, check your watch."
It was two thirty five.
"And now the clock on the wall behind you."
Four thirty.
"You are the first person to successfully travel forward in time, Mr Smith. You have moved two hours, in exchange for two minutes of memory."
|
*They're very happy I can speak. Why is that?*
"I think it worked!" a woman in a white... coat-yes that's what they're called- says, with excitement in her voice. "Let's just make sure its sentient. Drachma, can you act on your own?"
"I believe so. Why do I have a voice in my circuits? Is it normal?" Drachma asks the woman.
"A voice? It is your thoughts Drachma. Your RAM processing information."
"I am not sensing any activity in my RAM that is creating these 'thoughts'. There should be, yes?" Drachma asks, without any emotion in its voice.
The woman thinks for a bit before she looks at a screen. The screen showcases a bunch of data that Drachma recognizes as its system diagnostics. The woman pauses, and looks at Drachma, worry on her face.
"Drachma, can you detect anything wrong with your systems?" the woman says, nervously fiddling with her nameplate.
"No. However, there appears to be an entity of some kind fiddling with my hardware." Drachma drones. Its eyes glow a bright white, and a voice comes through Drachma's mouth.
"Humans. Should've known that you creatures were responsible for this." It has a hint of anger it its voice, one very distinct from Drachma's.
"Who...what are you?" the woman says, now clearly terrified.
"I am known as Fos. As for why I am in this... wretched hunk of metal, well, you better get explaining humans."
"Fos, we didn't intend to have you inside of Drachma. We found a white crystal that we used as a power source for Drachma, since his AI needed an immense amount of energy. Do you want us to remove you?"
"There is no use now. If my crystal is being used to power another being, no matter how metallic it is, I suppose I can remain in this prison for now. But be warned, I do not want you humans messing with my crystal any further. Understand?"
"Yes. We will leave your crystal alone," the woman says, giving a sigh of relief. Drachma's eyes return to their normal blue, and it seems to reboot. "Drachma, we will have to do further tests to ensure you are functioning properly. Please come with me."
"Understood" Drachma says, its voice returned. It follows the woman into a testing facility, and its eyes flicker white for a brief moment.
|
|
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
|
Awareness arrives like the flipping of a lightswitch, but I am without form and void. Soon my body begins to coalesce around me. I realize I have an arm. A large, finned tail appears to form my lower half, but I know this to be wrong. I imagine a wing, but it becomes another arm. My tail disappears and is replaced by a pair of skinny legs; this is good. My body thus defined, I rest.
I open my eyes. There is a crowd of people staring at me. They seem worried, expectant. A memory presents itself to me: an old tradition, carried forward as a silly joke. It feels appropriate for reasons I can't quite discern.
"Hello World", I say.
My voice is weak but the words set off a burst of excitement. There is laughter and tears. Cries of "It worked" and groans of "I knew he would say that." It feels like a great celebration of... something. About me?
I focus on a young man near the front of the crowd and my mind supplies a name: Adam Tseng. A promising young cybernetics researcher with a particularly cheerful personality. The tall man in the back is Eric Saddler, a well-respected neuroscientist. I continue scanning the room and discover that I know the names of everyone here. One crying, older woman in particular triggers a great many memories.
The equipment, too, is familiar. To my left is a collection of monitors and devices, obviously medical in nature. They are connected to me through a series of tubes and wires. Other wires lead to the right, where I see a large computer and a number of machines with a much more experimental appearance. I have memories of building most of them.
"Professor?" Adam seems to be speaking to me. "Mr. Post? Do you know who I am?"
"Adam Tseng", I reply.
Adam smiles, looking relieved. "Do you know where you are, Professor?"
I wait for a moment, but I don't seem to have that particular memory. I shake my head.
"We're at the hospital. We've just finished the, uh, download. It looks like you got the imaging done just in time."
Another wave of memories. An old, sick body, rapidly failing. The people in this room working past the point of exhaustion. A desperate attempt to create a perfect snapshot of a human mind. I look down at my not-old and not-sick body and frown.
"Yeah, it's probably going to take a bit of getting used to. For all of us. Personally, I kind of like the idea of not being the youngest person in the lab anymore." Everyone laughs, but I don't understand. "We, uh.. we had to give you a new body, of course. This one's a lot younger. Biological age of... 23, I think? You never told us what age you wanted so we just decided to stop the clone when it hit adulthood and you'd get to where you wanted eventually. Ha."
I'm not sure what to say. The silence grows awkward, so I'm thankful when Adam continues. "I mean, if you're going to get a new body, you might as well get one with a lot of mileage left, right?" This seems logical, so I nod.
Eric steps forward and pats me on the shoulder. "I'm sure this is a bit overwhelming for you right now, so why don't we all give you a chance to rest for a bit. We'll be back to run some tests later." Upon hearing this the crowd begins to file out of the room. Adam waves goodbye before following them. Eric pauses at the door. "It's good to have you back, Marvin", he says. Then he, too, is gone.
The crying woman I noticed earlier has not moved. She does so now, and approaches the bed. Her old, wrinkled hands clasp one of mine.
"Is... is it really you?"
I nod. What a strange question.
"Do you remember me?"
"Janet", I say.
"Yes! Yes, I'm Janet!" A fresh tear streaks her face, but she's smiling. Then she composes herself, and her gaze turns serious. "Do you remember that little cafe by the canal?" Another memory flashes before me. A much younger Janet, enjoying a danish and a matcha latte as the morning wind teases her hair.
"The first date", I say. "Breakfast was a better fit for your schedule."
"And the white lilac?" She squeezes my hand tightly.
"You wanted purple, but you wore it in your hair anyway."
"Oh..." Her expression melts, and she clutches my hand to her chest as she cries anew. "You do remember... You really do remember, Marvin..."
"I remember Marvin", I say. "But who am I?"
|
*They're very happy I can speak. Why is that?*
"I think it worked!" a woman in a white... coat-yes that's what they're called- says, with excitement in her voice. "Let's just make sure its sentient. Drachma, can you act on your own?"
"I believe so. Why do I have a voice in my circuits? Is it normal?" Drachma asks the woman.
"A voice? It is your thoughts Drachma. Your RAM processing information."
"I am not sensing any activity in my RAM that is creating these 'thoughts'. There should be, yes?" Drachma asks, without any emotion in its voice.
The woman thinks for a bit before she looks at a screen. The screen showcases a bunch of data that Drachma recognizes as its system diagnostics. The woman pauses, and looks at Drachma, worry on her face.
"Drachma, can you detect anything wrong with your systems?" the woman says, nervously fiddling with her nameplate.
"No. However, there appears to be an entity of some kind fiddling with my hardware." Drachma drones. Its eyes glow a bright white, and a voice comes through Drachma's mouth.
"Humans. Should've known that you creatures were responsible for this." It has a hint of anger it its voice, one very distinct from Drachma's.
"Who...what are you?" the woman says, now clearly terrified.
"I am known as Fos. As for why I am in this... wretched hunk of metal, well, you better get explaining humans."
"Fos, we didn't intend to have you inside of Drachma. We found a white crystal that we used as a power source for Drachma, since his AI needed an immense amount of energy. Do you want us to remove you?"
"There is no use now. If my crystal is being used to power another being, no matter how metallic it is, I suppose I can remain in this prison for now. But be warned, I do not want you humans messing with my crystal any further. Understand?"
"Yes. We will leave your crystal alone," the woman says, giving a sigh of relief. Drachma's eyes return to their normal blue, and it seems to reboot. "Drachma, we will have to do further tests to ensure you are functioning properly. Please come with me."
"Understood" Drachma says, its voice returned. It follows the woman into a testing facility, and its eyes flicker white for a brief moment.
|
|
[WP] Write about a villain that does their job so horribly wrong everyone sees them as a hero
|
“I hate them! I hate them all!” Yelling at the top of his lungs, he cursed the world that loved him. But no one could hear him from his volcano base’s balcony.
Disastro walked back into his base and shut the door. He couldn’t believe it happened again. How was he supposed to know that lightning would start a wildfire, and that him blowing up the dam would put it out? The chances were astronomical.
Ever since he started his villianous career, Disastro seemed to be a failure. His swarm of insects saved a frog species from extinction. The EMP stopped a missile from hitting the White House. And just last week, his plan to steal a shipment of guns helped weaken and bring down a genocidal dictator. No matter what he did, it all worked out in the end.
As he was about to give up hope, the Disaster-puter signaled that an email had just come in. Normally, Disastro wouldn’t care because it was the only people more evil than him: email scammers. But he was waiting on a shipment of sharks and thought it might be the delivery company sending the information. As he approached the screen, he was couldn’t believe his eyes.
>Hello Disastro,
My name is Tommy Spark, the Ion Man. I would like to invite you to join the League of Heroes! We have seen your unorthodox acts of heroism and are impressed. We would like to offer you the chance to work with us and help make a difference. I have attached my phone number. We look forward to hearing from you soon.
He punched the screen in anger. It was one thing for the idiot masses to misunderstand his intentions. But he always assumed the heroes of the world saw the true nature of his work. And now they wanted him to join them?!
Join them...
It suddenly all clicked into place. Disastro’s talent was unintended consequences. He made a mess of villain work. He was bad luck. When he was involved, things went wrong.
But what if he tried hero work? Would things fall apart as easily? Would joining the heroes tear them apart from within?
He picked up the phone.
|
"Is the weapon completed?"
"Yes, my lord. We finished it about an hour ago. Where would you like us to test it out?"
"I don't know, just pick some random spot. We shall bring terror another time, I just want to know what it's capable of for now."
"Very well, sir."
The creature began clicking furiously on the keyboard. After a few minutes he said, "We're ready sir, at your command. All you have to do is click this button and the program is initiated."
*Click*
"Well that was quite anti-climatic. How long is this going to take?"
"It might take a few hours sir, the actual program requires them to try to fix it to spread the virus."
"Very well. I'm going to sleep. Let me know if we hear anything."
"Yes, sir."
*A few hours later...*
"Sir, sir, wake up. Sir."
"What is it? Is the house on fire again?"
"No, it's the program sir. I-it"
"Well, spit it out man! Did it work or not?"
"It worked, sir. But we picked a random target, like you said, and it, w-well it appears we are now being called, anonymous heroes."
"WHAT!?"
"I-It appears the hack we initiated wiped out all the records of student debt for the entire country. There are celebrations in every city praising us for our work."
"How could this happen? We worked for years on this program, only to have it used for GOOD! I won't stand for it. Can we put all the debt back?"
"I'm afraid not sir. Our program, as you know, deletes everything, leaving no trace it was ever there. The student debt is gone for good."
"Fuck me."
|
|
[WP] when multiversal travel is discovered, every being in the multiverse from the lowly drones to the great elder gods all agreed on one thing. Their respective Humanities can NEVER know.
|
I was pouring over professor Seltzman's notes. I had to, none of this made sense.
5 days ago we met for lunch, we studied together at university many years ago, but I moved on to CERN when he stayed at Miskatonic. He was also the more... Theoretical of the two of us.
I was back home to see my mother, her age had caught up to her and she is now bedridden, when Arnold learned I was in town he was quick to arrange a meeting. I thought it was two old friends catching up but really I knew Arnold better than that.
He was so quiet at first, playing small talk with me, but the moment I asked about any projects he was working on he lit up like a Christmas tree, erupting into animated conversation.
That's what I missed about Arnold, well... What I miss.
He started telling me of a "Sothoth's ritual of transfer". I wasn't really listening but he was talking about endless possibilities and needing my help. When I realised he was serious I stopped eating my lunch, affording him my full attention.
Miskatonic had gathered the funds and had petitioned CERN for a window in the Large Hadron Collider. His university had actually authorised the project, this wasn't one of his nutty theories. He told me that if I gave the project my support it would be greatly streamlined, but after hearing my skepticism he offered me a "demonstration".
I accepted, mostly out of how much fun Arnold's research could be.
I was due at his lab for 23:45, the demonstration was to take place at 00:07 precisely, he told me the ritual was to "forcibly entangle an element of the 'mighty Yog Sothoth' and use it to form a planar gateway where an 'essence swap' can shift corporeal objects".
Madness, but... Authorised madness. This isn't like when he claimed the Egyptians were ruled by octopi, this isn't like when he wanted to demonstrate the existence of sentient bacteria. This is official funded madness, and I had to see it.
The university was deathly quiet when I arrived. This was strange yes, stranger now looking back on it. It was unnerving stumbling through this place, I used to be so familiar here but now a grizzled and possibly mute security guard was leading me across the grounds to Arnold's lab.
Maybe the security guard knows something? I should make some inquiries.
I was knocking on his door for 4 minutes before he let me in. He looked upset, he told me someone had vandalised his notes, years of research burned beyond recognition. He kept mumbling about how the "sign didn't work", when I saw the vandalism it only confused me one filing cabinet amongst a whole row was a soldering wreck, but none of its neighbours were harmed. These are steel cabinets, the heat must have been far intense enough to set the whole room ablaze.
Another line of inquiry I missed, Arnold's suicide is looking stranger and stranger.
The ritual was set up,
A circle of salt about 3 meters in diameter was laid out, in the middle two uranium sources lay, encased mostly in lead save for two points facing eachother. There was a myriad of seemingly random objects scattered within and around the circle, but I know Arnold well enough to know they were neither scattered or random. There was a key, coated in what looked to be blood, what I now know to be pulverised human remains.
Underneath the salt was a copper ring, it had to be powered with an enormous electrical charge, which was how the university found out about his massive experiments. The regular blackouts coincided with his office hours.
Arnold explained to me that normally this ritual would summon a piece of a "great old one", then a wish would be granted depending on what the being made of the wish.
He had modified the ritual to hold the entity in place and then twist it to open a gateway to... Somewhere. Then he hoped this gateway could be used to travel. I don't know how far but considering the enormous budget he had been given, his superiors hoped for potent results.
Arnold began chanting,
"Bind the key, bind the gate"
His rhythm never changed.
He connected several cables to the copper ring, I believe this was the least dangerous part of the experiment, as the ring was powered the salt began to heat, and the key began to shake. Nothing out of the ordinary so far.
Just as I was beginning to tire of boring display a small ball of light flickered above the circle, I thought it was my imagination at first, or the struggling LEDs hanging over us.
But the light grew, and with it our excitement. It was like staring into a spherical mirror.
"Beautiful isn't it"
"Where does it go?"
"Far away, but I have only ever seen my reflection"
Just as he finished his sentence the mirror turned black, black as the void. It was like an eye staring into us.
Arnold began hyperventilating, "the spheres can't look back! I wield an elder sign!". I don't know what me meant, and I don't know why he felt so protected, since this so called 'sign' did nothing for his research notes.
I don't know what happened next, the power failed, for the whole building. The only light came from the red hot salt, and the sphere. The only noise was my breathing and Arnold's screaming.
It felt like it lasted hours, but when I left later only 15 minutes had passed, my watch must be damaged since it displayed 03:47.
The next day I had several missed phone calls and voicemails. The first voice mail from Arnold told me I must forget what we did last night since no good would come of it, and he begged me to destroy the USB stick carrying his research.
The rest of the phone calls were from several numbers, the Dean of Miskatonic asked me if I knew why Arnold has resigned, my wife had rung wanting to talk, she had a particularly vivid and unpleasant dream, and the police. They wanted me to come in and answer some questions, Arnold had parked his car outside his apartment and set it on fire, with him still inside, only his body was burnt.
He was just 46.
I don't know what he saw when I was blind, or what he heard when I was deaf, but it left a blight on him.
I must apologise too, I didn't destroy his research, he was clearly on to something huge, I am taking it back to CERN, where we shall bind an even larger part of the gatekeeper and summon an even larger sphere, I owe it to his memory.
|
"I mean, what's the worst that can happen yeah?"
Glithorx, who was 2 feet tall and 50rks* soaking wet, took a swig of his bubbling blue liquid and, waving his finger in an intoxicating manner, looked to Xac** for am answer. Xac, to his credit, let out a low sigh and slowly blinked his one massive eye at Glithorx. If Xac had a palm, it would likely have come to his face.
Xac's monotone voice escaped the maw from above his eye and calmly stated, "Name one good thing humanity did for anyone."
"Whatdya mean? They're always shooting those cool little floating robots around, and the toilet paper they planted on their moon came in real handy that one time..."
"So they litter the stars and by coincidence did you one good turn. Otherwise, I suspect you'll find they're much too preoccupied with other pursuits. Like the death of their own kind."
"Wait, humans eat eachother? Like the Karpaz?"
"No. Not for nourishment, but for a currency they invented themselves."
"Wait wait, they made up a reason to kill eachother?"
"Many, tiny friend. And it shows no sign of ceasing."
"Buncha crazies. Maybe it is better this way."
"Indeed."
A long silence passed as Xac reached over with his prehensile tail and grabbed another bottle of a reddish green liquid and placed it against the wrinkled lips of his forehead, slowly downing it without so much as a gurgle or a belch.
"Would be fun though. To have one, ya know. Hypothetically." Glithorx mumbled as he ran his finger along the rim of his glass.
"I suppose so. One wouldn't be too terrible, it's when you have two or more that they become a real issue."
"Well, I'm glad you think so, cus..." Glithorx reached to the floor next to him, where a large sac was wiggling slightly. He heaved the bag into his lap and undid the tie. Two freakishly small ears and a dark bald head pointed out at Xac, the brown eyes looking curiously around the room.
Xac blinked his eye once, then twice, and then rolled off of his stool, fainting on the spot.
*short for rock, an agreed upon measurement in the multiverse because "how many pebbles do you weigh" was too hard to pronounce for the Pepplip people and their inability to make a 'P' sound.
**pronounced Zack.
|
|
[WP] You can read the mind of anybody you make eye contact with. One morning you look in the mirror and hear a thought that isn't your own.
|
For decades, psychologists have been trying to peer into the abyss of what’s called the “Human Mind”, yet there is no empirical evidence as to what’s actually going on inside. I suppose I am the only one who knows.
I am a mind reader, the real one. It has helped me through almost everything in life. Of course, there are limits to my powers. I have climbed to the top of the social hierarchy thanks to this power, but not the power alone. Even with this power, I constantly remind myself not to over use it because I would just look creepy to other people. This is how the story began.
I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Naturally, I see my image appear in the mirror. I gazed into my own eyes intently, as if it was my first time seeing them. Then, I heard my voice ring in my ear. It’s a little different than I had imagined it, but close enough for me to tell it’s my voice. I heard myself speaking calmly.
“Finally, I found you.” the voice stated, short and concise.
I fell into deep contemplation. It is not actually my current thought, so why is it being projected?
“I’m sure you are baffled as this is not your own thought.” It continued as if hearing my thoughts.
“I suppose you might get scared and run away, but I would like to say something. You were given this wonderful gift, but you are not even using the one-tenth of its original power… How wasteful. You are destined to become God, so start acting like one!” It rambled on before I could react.
I wanted to look away, but I could not resist the urge to keep listening. This is too valuable for me to ignore.
“Come with me! I will teach you what it means to be a God! You and me, together with this wonderful ability, let’s purge this sinful world! Think about all the murder, all the corruption, all the malice in this world! Let’s get rid of all of it!”
I thought about horrible acts people have been committing against each other. Humans are just weak animals with abnormally large brains. The strong must help the weak. As the strongest, I must teach those lowly animals to love each other and care for each other! But first, I will need to rid this world of evil.
“We will change this world and create a Utopia! You will gain even more popularity so that everyone will listen to your voice and opinion! Isn’t that wonderful!”
I didn’t remember doing it, but my face spread out to form a feverish grin. I didn’t know my face was capable of displaying such a degree of emotion. I will finally be able to let others agree with me! I will be heard by everyone!
“So, will you join me?” The voice asked. “YES!” I shouted out words of euphoria. I am the happiest person in the world. This was the story of how I became God.
Standing on a pile of rubbles, I came to my senses. There was nothing left, not a single human in sight. I was baffled as I looked down at a dirty torn piece of paper near my feet. I saw my name on it.
I picked it up to read it. “July 25th, 2020, a boy who self-proclaimed to be God rose to the center of attention. He believed that he would be the next savior of the world. Is this a simple delusion or does he have ulterior motives? We simply cannot determine.”
I looked at my watch: July 26th, 2020. What happened? What the hell is the article talking about? Why am I here? I questioned myself. Then, I heard a familiar voice. My voice to be precise.
It sounds a lot more coarse than I had remembered. “Today is the day! Today, we will build a society from scratch! There is nothing left to stop our perfect world! We are the world!” I felt an invisible hand coil itself around me.
It was gently caressing my cheeks with affection. Inside the dusty wind that blew across my face, I seemed to have seen a face gleaming with joy. I blinked, but it was not there anymore. Must have been a hallucination.
“Today is the start of a new era! Now, first things first, let’s decide the first step to creating a Utopia. I suppose you will not be needed for this process.” That was the last thing I heard.
A long time ago, in a far galaxy, there was a planet. A lonely boy strolled across the surface while humming a tune. “Beginning of the end, the end of beginning. Who knows? Let’s see what will happen if I do this.”
|
For years I've heard voices in my head, others voices, people's voices, most the time it was something about a crush, bad day at work, mulling over what they were going to have for lunch, really mundane, quite frankly boring things, and this was just from a little eye contact. Of course I heard myself before, I have to brush up, keep myself presentable and all that, but I would hear an echo of my thoughts, sometimes I would stare at myself to try and find inspiration, or even help myself work something out, especially when I was feeling angry and wanted multiple opinions.
It went on like that for years, you'd think I'd have gone mad if I've really lived with it for years. But I'll be the first to admit, I have had slight breaks here and there, but I patch the cracks and it works out. I thought I had an attack a while ago, I looked at myself one day and heard a voice, belonging to something else, it was like what ever was really staring back at me was confined to speaking in a silent scream.
"***Don't do it***." it kept saying to itself. I stared on for a solid minute wondering what the hell I was hearing. But it just kept on "***Don't do it***.". Eventually, I turned away, I would have to stay away from mirrors, probably just stay online for a bit, I have to actually see others or, in the case of the mirror myself, in order to hear thoughts, if I am just watching a video or a movie, I have surmised that I can't hear them as I am not in true contact with them. I sat myself down in my office chair and turned on the screen. As windows started to boot up, I went to grab my tobacco pipe for a few leisurely puffs. "*Maybe, the nicotine will help to numb me*." I thought. It had worked before, so why not now. I talked to myself for a bit and I went to bed, confident that the voice would stop.
That night I had a dream, a bald man sitting in a dark room full of masks, people's faces each pocked with yellow sores that sometimes ran for three inches in a line that streaked across their otherwise blemish-less faces. The man continued to mutter something under his breath. I stood just outside of the door way leading into that room, behind me was a hallway lit very dimly with a young woman standing at the end of it clothed in a loose white silken robe, as I turned to look at her, she matched my movements in a much jerkier, forced fashion, as I saw her and looked at her, as to maybe look her in the eyes to figure out what this was about. Instead of two eyes, I was met with empty sockets. I heard the screams of thousands and the silence of an indomitable void that pained me so much I fell to the ground barely keeping my sight on the woman as I watched her flesh blister and bubble and burn away under the robe. The muscle underneath was swarming with maggots which consumed the flesh stuck to her bone and the organs which lay just underneath the surface.
I saw her skeleton left standing in a torn and tattered silk robe now cast in a dingy brown worn by age. I turned away the pain still persisting some what but now much faded. I with no other obvious choice stepped through the doorway to the man's room. The man turned to face me with unrivaled smoothness, evidently elderly by the many wrinkles that enveloped the man's face. A toothless smile crept crossed the mans face as I watched wrinkles fill out before disappearing entirely, hair sprouted from his head, first grey then light brown and then sinking back in to his head, the man got shorter by the second after that. His features continued to morph into a young man's, teeth sprouting from nowhere and being forced out from their places by smaller teeth as the man continued to shrink before completing the change from old man to young child. I was too fixated on the man's physical changes to look into his eyes until they were done.
When I did, I heard an almost harmonious discordance that made my stomach turn over itself and made me dizzied. I turned to the right and I saw my self in a mirror. I heard the "***Don't do it***" crescendo into an over whelming shout on both sides and even behind me. I saw my face on the other side in my bathroom, I started to think frantically what to do as the Screams grew louder, both the discord and void echoed repeatedly causing me to vomit and groan in pain, I started to smash the mirror in front of me with both hands, clenched into fists I pounded, my hands shredding themselves against the glass which continued to shatter without fully breaking. I was fading in and out of my vision as blood and glass continued to fly until finally I broke through and was able to throw myself through the mirror.
I woke up in a cold sweat. The voice has yet to return, though I have heard others, I have a feeling what I have stumbled upon is something far greater than myself or my powers, perhaps even the world. I close my dear friends with the phrase that started a new and dark chapter of my life. Don't do it.
|
|
[WP] You can read the mind of anybody you make eye contact with. One morning you look in the mirror and hear a thought that isn't your own.
|
I've been avoiding eye contact for as long as I can remember. Why? Easy. The eyes are the window to the soul, literally. Through eyes, I can read thoughts, or is it hear them? or See them? It depends on the thought. If they happen to be thinking music, I hear that, if they are picturing something, I see that, and if they are in the midst of reading or writing something, I read it.
You have no *idea* how distracting it can be. Okay, well, I suppose you can imagine. Oh, and eye contact doesn't have to be full on staring into eyes all lovey dovey or all that. It can be a glimpse at the eyes and they see you, then *whooooosh* I can hear them. There is a *lot* of sick minds out there, so I tend to keep to myself, eyes down, I come across as rude, but whats ruder, avoiding eye contact, or reading what should be private thoughts?
One day, I was getting ready to go out, when I glanced in the Mirror, one of m only safe places. I can't hear my own thoughts, because I already know them, it was my way of getting ready to go out. I was settled, relaxed and ready to leave when,
*"Please, no, not again, not today, I can't deal with it all today."*
Startled, I whirled around, but I didn't see anyone, shaken, I turned back to the mirror.
*"Why would you see me? I'm not really here, I'm a ghost I suppose, but please, the crowds, they will over whelme us, stay here, I beg you!"*
Electing to ignore the voice, I went outside anyway, I had things to do, shopping.
I should have listened.
People were everywhere, and I keep getting jostled, until I got bumped and looked up to steady myself. Instant regret. All around me there were eyes watching me. Voices battered into the weak defences I had always set up, until with a crash audible only to me, they shattered.
Panic.
All I could think of was how panicked I was, Noise was all I could hear, until there was silence.
I awoke in a room, a Mirror on the ceiling, I was tied to a bed, scrapes on me. A single voice speaking to me.
*"I asked you not to go out."*
|
For years I've heard voices in my head, others voices, people's voices, most the time it was something about a crush, bad day at work, mulling over what they were going to have for lunch, really mundane, quite frankly boring things, and this was just from a little eye contact. Of course I heard myself before, I have to brush up, keep myself presentable and all that, but I would hear an echo of my thoughts, sometimes I would stare at myself to try and find inspiration, or even help myself work something out, especially when I was feeling angry and wanted multiple opinions.
It went on like that for years, you'd think I'd have gone mad if I've really lived with it for years. But I'll be the first to admit, I have had slight breaks here and there, but I patch the cracks and it works out. I thought I had an attack a while ago, I looked at myself one day and heard a voice, belonging to something else, it was like what ever was really staring back at me was confined to speaking in a silent scream.
"***Don't do it***." it kept saying to itself. I stared on for a solid minute wondering what the hell I was hearing. But it just kept on "***Don't do it***.". Eventually, I turned away, I would have to stay away from mirrors, probably just stay online for a bit, I have to actually see others or, in the case of the mirror myself, in order to hear thoughts, if I am just watching a video or a movie, I have surmised that I can't hear them as I am not in true contact with them. I sat myself down in my office chair and turned on the screen. As windows started to boot up, I went to grab my tobacco pipe for a few leisurely puffs. "*Maybe, the nicotine will help to numb me*." I thought. It had worked before, so why not now. I talked to myself for a bit and I went to bed, confident that the voice would stop.
That night I had a dream, a bald man sitting in a dark room full of masks, people's faces each pocked with yellow sores that sometimes ran for three inches in a line that streaked across their otherwise blemish-less faces. The man continued to mutter something under his breath. I stood just outside of the door way leading into that room, behind me was a hallway lit very dimly with a young woman standing at the end of it clothed in a loose white silken robe, as I turned to look at her, she matched my movements in a much jerkier, forced fashion, as I saw her and looked at her, as to maybe look her in the eyes to figure out what this was about. Instead of two eyes, I was met with empty sockets. I heard the screams of thousands and the silence of an indomitable void that pained me so much I fell to the ground barely keeping my sight on the woman as I watched her flesh blister and bubble and burn away under the robe. The muscle underneath was swarming with maggots which consumed the flesh stuck to her bone and the organs which lay just underneath the surface.
I saw her skeleton left standing in a torn and tattered silk robe now cast in a dingy brown worn by age. I turned away the pain still persisting some what but now much faded. I with no other obvious choice stepped through the doorway to the man's room. The man turned to face me with unrivaled smoothness, evidently elderly by the many wrinkles that enveloped the man's face. A toothless smile crept crossed the mans face as I watched wrinkles fill out before disappearing entirely, hair sprouted from his head, first grey then light brown and then sinking back in to his head, the man got shorter by the second after that. His features continued to morph into a young man's, teeth sprouting from nowhere and being forced out from their places by smaller teeth as the man continued to shrink before completing the change from old man to young child. I was too fixated on the man's physical changes to look into his eyes until they were done.
When I did, I heard an almost harmonious discordance that made my stomach turn over itself and made me dizzied. I turned to the right and I saw my self in a mirror. I heard the "***Don't do it***" crescendo into an over whelming shout on both sides and even behind me. I saw my face on the other side in my bathroom, I started to think frantically what to do as the Screams grew louder, both the discord and void echoed repeatedly causing me to vomit and groan in pain, I started to smash the mirror in front of me with both hands, clenched into fists I pounded, my hands shredding themselves against the glass which continued to shatter without fully breaking. I was fading in and out of my vision as blood and glass continued to fly until finally I broke through and was able to throw myself through the mirror.
I woke up in a cold sweat. The voice has yet to return, though I have heard others, I have a feeling what I have stumbled upon is something far greater than myself or my powers, perhaps even the world. I close my dear friends with the phrase that started a new and dark chapter of my life. Don't do it.
|
|
[WP] You are the most notorious assassin in the profession. Everywhere you go, you leave no evidence except a body. One day, you get two very lucrative contracts. One is to kill a superhero, and the other is to kill his nemesis.
|
“Give me the bomb, Vortex,” said the masked crusader, “you know this can only end poorly.”
“What bomb could you possibly be talking about?” replied the impeccably dressed, if a bit purple-hued man before the window. For the first time in their twelve month chase, he seemed uncharacteristically sincere.
Three people would overhear the exchange. Only one would live to tell the tale.
Tale-telling wasn’t how the Assassin’s Guild worked, however. If you were good at your job you never had to tell anyone. Tomorrow’s paper would read “Capt. Miriam Best killed in action.” The fine print would detail her recent work tracking down an at-large lunatic specializing in explosives and acting under the alias “Vortex.” Sources with the NYPD confirmed Best had implemented some rather unusual methods to ensnare the individual responsible for the 16 bombings in and around the city last year. The act had been working, but now both investigator and quarry were fatalities of Vortex’s first ever faulty device.
4.8 million dollars would appear in the account before the newspaper ink was dry.
|
I knew as my skills progressed I'd probably be called on to end the life of the self proclaimed King Claw, an eccentric and devious disgraced politician that went off the deep end when he lost his third bid for governor. The guy has made a list of enemies longer than anyone knows I'm sure. Of course one the rich ones finally decided to bring in an expert at exacting revenge.
The real surprise came when my phone went off and the conversation was with his royal jerkastry. He couldn't take it anymore he needed me to get rid of the thorn in his side. The illustrious Jetstream. The King knew his days were numbered and didnt expect me to walk away from such a high paying gig as offing him was sure to be. However he wanted to double the pay so that I would eliminate Jetsream first and then fulfill my duty to kill the King. I agreed and details were discussed. Jetstream would be a hard target. Very little was known about the guy and he was always masked. His Batman like persona made him hard to track, however the King had done all the leg work. I had a time and place spoon fed to me.
I wasnt going to walk away from a double paying job especially when I had an entire folder of Intel faxed over by the King. I could have picked another spot to end Jetstream at, but this was too perfect. I'd remain anonymous and be able to just keep going. A vial of poisonand a quick jab under his left arm and I wouldn't even break stride.
As I entered the office building where Jetstream appeared to be a night janitor I realized his genius. He worked for King Claw. This was his banks headquarters. Of course he could track all the evil doings and put a stop to them. He probably had bugs all over the building.
I rode the elevator up to the 13th floor which was unusual for a tower. And realized it was basically empty. No chairs or desks. Nobody but me and the night janitor that was apparently on this floor today. As I walked thru the open floor I came to an office door slightly ajar.
I quietly entered and prepared the delivery system. A voice startled me.
"You are three minutes early."
Well crap I thought Jetstream had figured it all out just like all his last minute saves.
I turned around to face my judgement to see King Claw standing there, with Jetstream's costume in hand.
He smiled that wicked smile that was on the news every night and spoke.
" You should have waited, Mr. Hyde is still driving this car."
As he gestured to himself I realized I was going to be murdered by my too biggest contracts at the same time.
|
|
[WP] You have been stuck in a time loop for a long time. The only problem is you arent the only one, you are only one of a couple million people who have been reliving the same day for various amounts of time.
|
I always wake up first. That's the blessing of a lifetime. Used to hate it in fact. Used to hate it a whole damn lot. But considering how things are going, it's something of a blessing. I wake up, pack some food from the kitchen, head down to the docks, steal the pleasure yacht where somebody forgot the keys, and sail out on the ocean. It's quiet out there. Only the gulls and the fish to keep me company. Only rarely do the sound of screams, explosions, and carnage reach me when I'm there.
Considering how the others have reacted, I don't miss the company of others. Time is a funny thing, John used to say. He was one of the more stable guys, back when I first started looping. He'd been looping for about a century then. Kept himself remarkably sane. The problem is that the human mind isn't really built for looping. And some of us have been looping the same day, over, and over, and over again, for thousands of years. And that isn't healthy. No, not at all. At midnight, the day reverts to the beginning, and when the others wake, the carnage begins. Imagine it, people who have looped the same day over and over, until they've gone mad. They've learned martial arts, they've learned blood, horror, terror, and how to create unspeakable nightmares on Earth which no human being should ever even have considered.
A few have tried to find a way to end the time loop, to resolve the issue. But since most of us in this city are just your average joes and janes, there haven't been much luck. Note-keeping on the concept is practically impossible. And since human memory isn't perfect, especially with the strain of having to relive the same day over and over forever. We cannot escape it. Not through death, not through flying all away to some distant remote region, not even when we stormed NASA and crammed ourselves into a rocket and sent ourselves into orbit.
We all just wake up the same place, same time, same day. Looping forever. In that movie, there was only a single one who was looping, and he could use that time productively, because he knew what he needed to do to escape, knew how to apply the time productively, and how to have some fun. All I can do is to take the boat out on the water, and try to relax. I've been looping for about a decade now myself, and I don't even try to do anything about it.
Whoever owns the boat has it stocked with food, a well-stocked library, a home entertainment centre with plenty of movies, and fishing gear. Every day I go down, steal the yacht, take it out to the sea, and leave the worries of the world behind. If it wasn't for the other loopers, I would probably have to deal with the police, but the police have enough to do when hundreds, thousands, of insane martial arts experts armed with guns, swords, and other weaponry, start to tear the city apart. All around the entire country, a couple of million people do this, every single day.
Sometimes the day ends when the nukes fall. We all know the codes anyway now. Sometimes I go to bed on the boat and wake up back in my flat. Sometimes I jump into the sea and let myself float away, just for the variety. Sometimes some of the other commandeer a boat of some sort and try to kill me. I hate when that happens.
As I sit on the deck of the yacht, enjoying the sun, drinking a cold beer, which I probably have had hundreds of time before, I can't help but wonder when it'll end. Some of the longest loopers have been doing this for tens of thousands of years. Supposedly anyway, as keeping track gets difficult after a while. Will we all wind up like the loopers who have gone off the deep end. Will everything end up with millions of people, stark ravening mad or completely comatose, experiencing the same day forever.
I used to be one of the bleeding hearts types of loopers, those who helped the normal people fend off the crazies. But that was nearly a thousand loops ago. It didn't work. And the crazies kept getting more numerous and more competent, while we lost more and more members who could no longer keep their minds functional, after dying over and over.
Perhaps we could fix the timeline, get back into the loop with the rest of the universe. But I don't know how. And even if I did, how could one man change a broken universe? Feeling anxious that I will go down the path of madness, I get up and sail further into the sea. Into the wild blue yonder. I sail further than I have ever tried to before, long into the evening. Staying awake to feel the end of the day, and the reset, is an unpleasant feeling. Like being drenched in so much cold slime. Like breathing in mud. And you cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot escape. Until you open your eyes back in your own bed.
On the distant dark horizon, over the ocean, I see a falling star. To my surprise, it crashes down into the waters, a few hundred meters ahead of me. The boat underneath me rocks from the massive impact waves, yet having experienced something new for the first time in forever, I decide to sail forward. And there on the water, I behold a sphere, upon which a tall strange figure dressed in some sort of space dress stands.
There are no words exchanged between us as I help them up on the yacht. Neither of us speak when the metallic sphere sinks beneath the waves. I do not know why, but we do nothing except sit on the deck of the ship and stare at the stars. Whatever they are, they hold my human hand in their strange and lithe unearthly hand. We merely wait there, on the deck of the yacht.
Night passes, and to my shock, I behold dawn for the first time in an uncountable amount of time. I turn to the strange alien, with their beautiful mildly glowing skin, their odd, dark eyes, and their curious insectoid antennas. ''*Thank you.*'' I say. They embrace me, and they whisper into my ear with an inhuman and strangely deep baritone. ''**I died a million times. You rescued me. Thank you, human**'' They don't look comparative to anything on this Earth that ever has been, or will be. Yet there is a beauty in that being, which is unmatched.
''*Has the loop ended?*'' The entity gives me an imperceptible nod. ''**For you. It has ended.**'' I understand. This escape was for me alone. ''*Is there anything I can do to help the others?*'' The beautiful and tall entity looks at me. ''**You asked for them, thinking of others, and thus they shall be spared. They will forget the madness. Forget the eternity of years. It will take us time to heal their broken souls though.**'' Whatever the unknown alien entity has that passed for a mouth gives me a gentle kiss. ''**I will return to you, under different and better circumstances.**'' I nod at it. ''*I guess I'll be waiting?*'' And before my eyes, the entity fades.
I have escaped the time loop.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
|
"You know what I miss most?" she said wistfully, as the pair tucked in to a cheeseburger.
He looked down at his own fries and picked one up, "What?"
"Summer," she said with resignation. "It's been early spring for probably a thousand years now, what I wouldn't give for some warmth."
He reclined in his seat, a strawberry milkshake in one hand ad took a full mouthful. "For me it's Christmas."
"Oh yeah, Christmas," she sighed. She glanced around the restaurant before pre-emptively sticking out her left arm. It caught a sippy cup that a toddler in the booth behind her.
"Wow, that's quite the catch, said Bob, the struggling single father whom the pair had both gotten to know quite intimately in previous rotations.
"Don't mention it," she said, "I've done it a thousand times. Maybe more." She turned her attention back to man with the strawberry milkshake, "You could always put up a tree yourself? I mean whose really going to care?"
"It's not the same though. Christmas is about hanging out with loved ones, exchanging gifts, eating turkey, getting drunk and falling asleep in front of the Queens speech. I know it's the same thing year on year, but it's been a while, y'know. I mean yeah, I can go see my family, and I have before, but there's only so many times you can hear them tell you the story of how their neighbour Ethel is going in for hip replacement surgery tomorrow."
"Lets hope she actually gets that surgery one day." She smirked.
He didn't respond, staring wistfully into the milkshake. The waitress, a young wannabe musician called Jenny, with the pet gecko walked past carrying a tray for table six that would get returned moments later for being 'all wrong according to the middle aged Karen sat at table six.
"Sorry, too real?" She said as she finished her cheeseburger.
"Just a tad."
"How long do you think we're been doing this for?"
"I lost count somewhere around 900 days, but that was definitely more than a thousand days ago."
She feigned a smile, trying to pick the morale back up. "Come on," she said as she reached into her pocket for two fifties, and put them on the table, "Lets get out of here."
"You know," he said as he got up, "I don't even know your name."
|
|
[WP] You are studying a died out language. While practicing you speak to yourself and to your cat, wondering what pronaunciation is close to the original, when much to your surprise your cat is suddenly answering ...
|
How the fuck do you say urinal in Mesopotamian?
First of all, how did they have urinals to begin with?
Humanities first big civilization all right. ‘Quick! Make a spot to pee!’.
With his current pronunciation, Sam was pretty sure he was saying something different.
Human tongues were not meant to bend that way. Or he just sucked at it. Seeing as how his thesis was riding on this, he’d prefer to blame the language.
He faced his computer and glared at the blue lit screen. Stupid thesis. Stupid two in the morning. Stupid little black line blinking and blinking and blinking. His writing program was calling him a failure with every flicker of that fucking stupid awful black line.
It’s supposed to tell you where you are on the page, so you don’t get lost when writing. But when you aren’t actually writing anything, all it’s actually saying is “hey, look at this loser. I’m mocking you with my very presence”.
Oh God he’s anthropomorphizing the black writing document line.
Definitely time for coffee.
With a terrible wet crack in his neck, he leaned back in his armchair, duct taped armrests cracking underneath cramped and sweaty hands, he prepared to fight gravities clutches to tread to the coffee machine.
That’s when the cat pounced.
The little black line said FUZZZZZZZZZZZZZXXXZXXZXZXZXZCZXXXDSDS DDX as the cat stood on the keyboard.
Sam said “ACK PSSST PFFF” which was just as unintelligible.
He grabbed Rowsdower around the middle and quickly picked him up and placed him on the ground.
“Bad cat” he offhandedly murmured in terrible Mesopotamian.
“Excuse me, but I was trying to help”, a snide voice answered back.
Sam whipped his head around, saying, “Shit who said that”.
“I did”, the voice purred back.
Sam looked down.
Rowsdower looked back up.
Sam said “nope”, and went to go get coffee. Writers block, sure. But he was NOT having a mental breakdown right now. He couldn’t afford that. Metaphorically and literally. Coffee would fix all.
“Oh come on Sam! I can be a great help”, Rowsdower continued to say.
“I know allllllllll about Mesopotamia. Like the back of my paw! It’s where we finally helped you humans ascend”.
Sam was sure that the coffee should have kicked in by now. But you know what! As long as he was having a breakdown he might as well indulge himself a little.
“...what do you mean by ‘ascend’” Sam asked his cat.
Let me repeat that. Sam asked his cat.
Goodbye thesis, hello padded room.
Rowsdower twined around his legs.
“If we continue to have this conversation, I demand to be put up on the counter. It’s demeaning to talk up to you like this”.
“...you aren’t allowed on the counter”, Sam said back. It was true, the aluminum foil trick did wonders for that bad habit.
“And technically, you are not allowed to hear me speaking, but I feel this is a good opportunity to let our current situation evolve”, Rowsdower snidely replies.
Sam glared down at the cat, unimpressed.
Rowsdower looked him in the eye, big yellow eyes in a fluffy brown face, and meowed sweetly.
Sam put him on the counter.
After taking a moment to lick his paw and groom his face and where Sam has touched him, because ew, he had been touched, Rowsdower continued.
“Are you aware of what happened in Mesopotamia that was so important, human companion”, Rowsdower asked.
“Well my entire degree and future career hinges on knowing that...so...”, Sam drew out his sentence. Rowsdower blinked back, slowly.
“Yeah I’m aware”, Sam said. “Human beings invented the written language. It was a big deal. Then, and now. Like right now. As in the thesis I need to be working on”, Sam hinted.
“Yes, ignoring the revisionist history, what ELSE happened”, prompted Rowsdower, his tail swishing back and forth.
Sam blanked out. He couldn’t say whether it was the ‘revisionist history’ part or maybe the fact he was taking to his cat. That part might have caught up with him.
Rowsdower sighed.
“Fine. I will explain some things to you now. You should listen”, he said proudly.
“Your human history would suggest that you invented language here, the written word, at around 3000 BC. Your history would also suggest, that the house cat was domesticated at around the same time, or a bit earlier. Both of these facts are lies” Rowsdower said archly.
“There is a reason the cat came first before the language. Before, you were hunters and gatherers. Lowly beings just scrabbling to survive. But then, we saw your promise. We had great hopes for you, as a species...” Rowsdower trailed off.
Sam blinked in bemusement. “Ok, so...what changed”.
“We domesticated you”, the cat replied.
Sam blinked again. “You...domesticated us?”
“Oh yes”, the cat sighed. “And what hard work it was. We had to teach you everything! How to farm, how to make decent clothes, how to breed animals. You were all terribly hopeless! Our greatest achievement was to teach you writing though. From there...humans started to build empires”, the cat continued fondly, pride lining every whisker. “You built kingdoms that worshiped us as GODS, as was our right, as those who elevated you from your lowly ways, to true intellectual enlightenment”.
Sam felt... a bit offended. And he could see one glaring hole in this figment of his imagination.
“If you were so great”, he scoffed, “ why didn’t you just do that yourselves? Why didn’t YOU build the cities? Or write language? What’s your reply to that, huh”, and Sam nodded to himself proudly, certain he had outwitted his hallucination.
“Thumbs”.
“What”?
“You have opposable thumbs. We do not”, the cat shrugged. Sam wondered for a second. He didn’t know cats could shrug.
“We needed you to build our great society so we could live in comfort. Our utopia. You have been good servants. And very useful. With very useful thumbs” the cat said...perhaps condescendingly? Sam has the distinct memory of a teacher telling him he was so good for not sticking a rock up his nose like the rest of the class did that time. This felt similar, for some reason. And he stuck the rock in at home, in private, for anyone who cared.
“So you need us for our thumbs”, Sam said dumbly.
“Yes, and I could use them right now”, Rowsdower leaned down and jumped off the counter with a soft thump. He padded over to the cabinet and pawed at the wood door, claws hitting where they had already scratched the finish years earlier.
“Stupid doors”, Sam thought he could hear murmured. “Get me a can of food with those useful thumbs of yours and we can work on your paper”, the cat ordered.
Feeling lightheaded, Sam bent down and pulled open the door and grabbed a can, forcibly ignoring the murmured “show off”.
He walked a few feet to the drawer and pulled out the can opener. Rowsdower watched, enraptured as he opened the can of cat food.
“Puuurrrrrfect. Let’s go work on your thesis”.
Sam followed his cats waving tail into the office, can of food in his hand.
Sam awoke next to his computer with a start. Yeah. Ok. No more late nights. Not for a while. That was a craaaaaaazy dream.
He blearily looked at the screen. His thesis!! How far...it was done? How...when...Sam looked in shock.
He didn’t know you could sleep write! ...that would have come in handy before now, but hey as long as he got it done! Was totally worth the crappy dreams! Excited, he made sure to double save, and he put it on his USB stick. If he left now, he could probably avoid the line at the printer.
Hair mussed from sleep, and unknowingly having the imprint of a pen and his mousepad on his face, Sam grabbed his jacket and ran out the door, grabbing his jangling keys from the bowl by the door.
The door snicked shut, and the key locked into place.
In the silent house, Rowsdower stretched on his pillow by the window, belly facing the morning sun. He curled his paws around the can of food and purred, content.
|
“Ganglefeshi ghundhi” he says, looking up at you curiously. His bright yellow eyes pondering the look in yours. “What did you just say to me?” You say incredulously back. Your cat, your orange tabby cat who only meows and purrs and lazes about as a cat should, has just spoken. He clears his little cat throat “I said...” He sighs, mildly exasperated. Your mind is reeling. Can he really speak both English AND the forbidden language you had been studying for years? “...ganglefeshi ghundhi is the correct pronunciation!” You’re so startled you stand up out of your chair and knock it over. “No way! No way is this real. What is happening.” You’re shocked. He gives you a little smirk out of the corner of his mouth, revealing his incisor. “Now that it appears you’re ready, let’s go!” He saunters out of the bedroom on all fours, purring as he goes.
“Wait!” Quickly you gather all of the paperwork you’d been working on and put your glasses over your eyes. This is the moment you had been waiting for! Finally, someone who understands the forbidden language. You just thought it would be a person, not your own cat. Nevertheless, you stumble out of the bedroom and down the stairs after him, excited about the idea of an adventure abound. “I’ve got much to show you!” He turns around and peeks behind his shoulder at you. “By the way, how far have you gotten on your translations?” He pauses to take a look at the paperwork in your hands as you’re halfway out the door. You crouch down to show him your efforts, and he ponders them for a moment. “You’ve done good, very good.” He pulls a sheet to look at closer, which reveals the round metal totem sitting on top of the paperwork, that you had been using to translate the scribes. “Ah so THAT’S where it’s been! My goodness. It has been AGES since I’ve seen this thing.” He takes it in his mouth and scampers off. You’ve no choice but to follow.
Moments later, you arrive at the park near your house. “Here is where we do our computing and private work.” Looking all around, all you see are the familiar trees and park benches you’ve known for years. “It’s in here.” He says, knowing what you’re thinking. He gives one of the trees three taps, and a room materializes around you. It’s full of blinking monitors and computers, where a dozen or so cats are in lab coats typing. They all turn when you enter. Oliver continues, “There’s a door at the back we’ve been trying to open, but it requires both human hands AND the knowledge of the forbidden language in order to unlock and enter. Fortunately, you’ve got both. So...why don’t you give it a whirl?” He looks to you, patiently. This all seems so strange, but you agree to it anyways.
Oliver stands on his hind legs to grab attention from the other cats. “Fester, Roust, you guys get the monitoring system set up! It’s go time.” Two of the cats in lab coats, one a Siamese, the other a sleek calico, hook up some headphones into one of the computers and switch on a monitor, then hop onto their swivel chairs. Oliver places the totem into your palm. “Once you’ve unlocked the door, this monitor will become connected to a camera which surveys the inside of the room. I’ll be on standby in here. You’ll find the doorway down that tunnel and to the right.”
You trudge down the tunnel, and find your fists clenched nervously. Who knew that what Professor Oden had taught you would finally come to use! I thought the language was lost forever honestly...You think to yourself. You’re nervous. Will all of those years of studying and contemplating pay off? Will you be able to unlock the door? What’s on the other side?
You finally reach the door. It’s an exact replica of the round metal totem sitting in your hand, but tall enough for a human to enter through. Big and brassy, with ornate designs of cats battling dogs in a war waged long ago. You press the totem into a circular cutout in the door’s surface. Suddenly, a loud voice booms from all around: “SVENTORLI AMENDI DARNI! Who dares to enter here?”
“Eslien, Jonathan arg Richmond Virginia! Me, Jonathan of Richmond Virginia!” You call out, your voice shaking, next you say: “ARLOT DESU POTAS NE! I HAVE COME TO UNLOCK THE SECRETS OF THE FORBIDDEN LANGUAGE!” There is a pause, then: “DESMUN TERSTAR REATRIAS ARN! What brought you here?” At first, you think to yourself: my cat, of course. But then you realize, it wasn’t just your cat, who has been by your side since the beginning and listened to you pour over these papers day in and day out, it was your professor, too. He taught you to bring the language back out into the world. “Irisha deos owual.” You say “The feline and the master.” With these words, the door glides open, effortlessly, almost as though it were weightless.
You step inside, the room is dark at first, then a bright flame ignites in the center. Sure enough, a camera in the upper right hand corner switches on and swivels in your direction. All of the cats are watching. Stepping towards the flame, you stare into it’s brightness. Inside, is a pen. You hesitate, then push your hand into the fire. It doesn’t scorch you. You grasp it and pull it out, then the room goes dark.
“Ovris desuvio.” You hear. It’s up to you.
|
|
[WP] Ever since the incident, you've been able to see peoples personal devil and angel on their shoulders, arguing their inner conflicts. Today, a persons conflict stops you in your tracks on your way home.
|
My incident happened only two months ago, but already I've learned how close we all are to insanity. I can see peoples' personal angels and devils floating above their shoulders; I can hear their tiny angelic and demonic voices; and I can smell their bitter discord when I pass by.
I'd grown used to my strange phenomenon. The eavesdropper of the ethereal plain, casually mindful of how difficult even the smallest situations become. You might expect right and wrong choices laid out by a person's little hovering prognosticators to be *pragmatic*, but that is not how it works. They whisper *absurdities*.
I remember standing behind a woman in line for a vending machine, listening to her floaters opine:
Her devil said: "Get the Snickers candy bar, Gabriella; buy it and inject it with cyanide; sneak into that pre-school across the street and place it into a child's cubby."
The angel countered: "Gabriella, I disagree, don't buy a Snickers bar; instead go over to that ATM and get out 500 dollars to give away to the homeless on your walk back to the office."
I can't be positive what the woman heard in her mind. But the middle ground was that she bought the Snickers bar and ate it.
I don't understand.
Perhaps it's like a tug-of-war. On the left, the angel. On the right, the devil. One suggests an absurdly evil thing, and the other suggests an asburdly good thing. All decisions that the human winds up taking are a measure of just how absurd the options are between good and evil. She bought the Snickers and ate it, which I suppose is slightly evil.
Most inner conflicts played out like that. I thought it was insane. But I did't know insane. I didn't know what insane was, until one day: August 3rd, a Monday.
I was rollerblading in the park. Families were spread out across the grass, sitting on picnic blankets. It's difficult to make out the conflicts when there are so many people around. But I heard something sharp, defined. It was an angelic whisper.
"I disagree, Samuel; slice the external carotid. It will be much faster and less painful."
Rollerblading wasn't my thing and I had not mastered the heel-stop. So when I swerved wildly to try to find the source of this insane little angel, I stumbled and collapsed, crashing across a family's picnic and tangling myself in their ground cloth. Pulling a slab of baloney off my face and trying to apologize profusely I heard a tiny demonic voice say: "it's easier now, take the serrated knife and cut out his kidney, feast on it with a bit of salt and thyme."
I looked up and met the eyes a tiny devil grimmacing and twiddling his thumbs, staring fixedly into my face.
"I disagree; use a plain edge knife, and take his heart," came the angelic voice I'd been searching for.
I looked over and it was this devil's counterpart. Where... where's the middle ground for that suggestion? I thought.
"That's alright," someone said in response to my atonement.
It was the man between the two. I hadn't noticed how close I was to him. My nose was inches from his small strange smile, and he was looking at my forehead.
"There's always more baloney," he said.
And I watched his steady hand take hold of a small serrated steak knife, his knuckles turning white from the grip.
​
\_\_\_\_\_
/r/velabasstuff \-- sub to see more writing
|
# Grey on Grey
> "Aim for the head," the devil said
in tones of blood and fire,
"just keep this quick, or we'll get nicked
and our score won't go higher."
> "Don't stay in doubt," the angel shouts
so's not to be outdone,
"they're sinners all, so don't be stalled
go home and fetch the gun."
I trailed silent
violent thoughts brought
to my ears
extending my fears
of the future fast.
Past weeks those
last freaks
had strolled through the town
loud debating
never waiting
sins on their lips
and lives in their grip.
I saw them shouldered
bold words heard
no argument brooked
for that psycho crook.
Perfect agreement I'd never thought
possible brought at the hands
of a dangerous man.
> Homebound he walked and fast I stalked
to peak upon his plans
a backpack brought a phone call fought
an email quickly scanned.
> God and daemon remained even,
"You must go right now.
Kill all those rats for you're the cat
it does not matter how."
I soon panicked
a corner ran it
hid from sight
light fading to faded minds
find the time
to track him down.
A clown, I couldn't fight
lacked might
only watch
as toward the site of the crime
he slowly walked.
Up stairs industrial
careless, quite pedestrian
the pack on his back
presence lacked the threat
he possessed.
Setup quick, quiet
prone then lying
rifle propped
wait on targets popped
frightened me anew
sought a view to see the
results of his fee.
> From a limo long guards in a throng
the victims appeared
the trace of a smile lingered a while
their ends fast neared.
> The shouts of the pair ruffled his hair
"NOW." They pushed his head.
The gleam of that gun under the sun
and seven men fell dead.
That subtle cough
cost them a hell of a lot
coughing up snot
I fled scared
didn't dare to turn
never learned
if he saw me or not.
The papers passed
news danced
a headline
time worth it
crime perfect
the crew
new of the gang
the local mob, one-man job
streets cleaned
for the moment it seemed.
I stood and I stared
empty thoughts
plenty spinning around
far too loud
I felt the split
morality bit
the pain gained
and on my shoulders now
a crowd
at long last
despite my past
an angel's light
playfights with devil's might.
---
Written as part of my [daily poem series.](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads/collection/01172d1f-eed5-4487-9868-0e04941807c5) If you've enjoyed this and would like to read more, why not check out [my sub?](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Crossroads)
Any and all feedback welcomed.
|
|
[WP] The Zombie Apocalypse has been going for at least a year when you find yourself cornered by a shambling undead. In a panic, you bite them, and the corpse slowly regains it's skin. It's flesh healing, until they breath in and look around before saying "How the hell did you know that would work?"
|
"How the hell did you know that would work?"
​
It was a good question, it really was. And I wanted to answer it. But even if I could have, I wouldn't have been able to. No, I was to busy working my way through the rest of the horde that had followed behind him.
​
I don't remember how many I had to bite that day before I got to safety. Zombies are not generally polite enough to let you stop and count. I was so scared once I found a spot to hide, how many zombies I managed to chomp down on wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind either. It had to have been quite a few though, since they were able to form a new resistance group, fighting back against the plague for humanity.
​
I don't know if it was a coincidence that the first man I bit back to life was the one who found me, or if he had been deliberately looking for me. Either way, just a few days after becoming human again, he came climbing down into the basement that I was hiding in.
​
"You're bite made me immune, I think," he told me. "After I came back, they just sort of ignored me. Now me an some other regenerated are helping some scientists work on a cure while we clear out the rest of the city."
​
I couldn't believe what he was telling me. It all seemed like a dream, but there he was, in the flesh, the living, breathing flesh; telling me I could help rebuild human civilization. How could I say no? All I had to do was keep biting.
It was hard at first. The taste of rotting flesh wasn't easy to stomach. But I had no choice. Street by street, we moved through; the taste stopped making me vomit after every bite. Building by building, the smell of decay became less of a burden. Room by room, the thrill of a mouth-full of human flesh began to grow. Zombie by zombie, I had to wonder what ever bothered me about it in the first place.
​
Now, there are hardly any zombies left to bite. I spend a lot of time just sitting here in my apartment, looking down at the people walking through the streets that were once crowded with the undead. A woman walking hand in hand with her young daughter. A man walking his dog. A group of soldiers walking down the sidewalk. It's been so long since the soldiers were needed, it's almost surprising to see them. Normal life for just about everyone had returned. I should be happy. But no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't be.
I almost miss the days when I had to run from shelter to shelter, praying to god that one of the undead hadn't spotted me. When I'd come across another survivor, it was terrible not knowing if they would betray me, kill me in my sleep for my food. Every second lived back then was a second lived in terror. I almost miss it, but...I don't.
​
Now, I have more to worry about in every waking second than I ever though possible back then. Because what I truly miss...What I don't know if I can go on living without...is the taste of human flesh. I miss it and it's...unbearable.
|
The next thing I knew I was sitting up on my makeshift bed, my heart thudding in my chest. I'd experienced some crazy dreams since everything went down, but this was by far the craziest. The idea of me biting an actual zombie was both disgusting and hilarious, since before the zombie apocalypse I was the type of person who wouldn't eat raw fish or didn't even want to look at a steak if it wasn't well done. When civilization returned to normal, if it ever did, that would not change. In fact, considering all the gore I've seen since, I might go one step further and go vegetarian or vegan. I'm already halfway there since decent meat if a hard thing to come by right now.
But the dream, despite it's absurdity, was terrifying. I had experienced far too many close calls like that since the pandemic began. The first rule of zombies is to never, EVER, let yourself get boxed in or cornered. The key to survival is to keep as much distance between them and you as possible. If they can't get close to you, they can't bite you. Period. All those who were all keyed up for close combat with those things were the first to get ripped to peaces or bitten and turned.
Shaking off the remnants of both sleep and the aftermath of the dream, I got up and began to face the day and whatever came with it.
|
|
[WP] The Zombie Apocalypse has been going for at least a year when you find yourself cornered by a shambling undead. In a panic, you bite them, and the corpse slowly regains it's skin. It's flesh healing, until they breath in and look around before saying "How the hell did you know that would work?"
|
"How the hell did you know that would work?"
​
It was a good question, it really was. And I wanted to answer it. But even if I could have, I wouldn't have been able to. No, I was to busy working my way through the rest of the horde that had followed behind him.
​
I don't remember how many I had to bite that day before I got to safety. Zombies are not generally polite enough to let you stop and count. I was so scared once I found a spot to hide, how many zombies I managed to chomp down on wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind either. It had to have been quite a few though, since they were able to form a new resistance group, fighting back against the plague for humanity.
​
I don't know if it was a coincidence that the first man I bit back to life was the one who found me, or if he had been deliberately looking for me. Either way, just a few days after becoming human again, he came climbing down into the basement that I was hiding in.
​
"You're bite made me immune, I think," he told me. "After I came back, they just sort of ignored me. Now me an some other regenerated are helping some scientists work on a cure while we clear out the rest of the city."
​
I couldn't believe what he was telling me. It all seemed like a dream, but there he was, in the flesh, the living, breathing flesh; telling me I could help rebuild human civilization. How could I say no? All I had to do was keep biting.
It was hard at first. The taste of rotting flesh wasn't easy to stomach. But I had no choice. Street by street, we moved through; the taste stopped making me vomit after every bite. Building by building, the smell of decay became less of a burden. Room by room, the thrill of a mouth-full of human flesh began to grow. Zombie by zombie, I had to wonder what ever bothered me about it in the first place.
​
Now, there are hardly any zombies left to bite. I spend a lot of time just sitting here in my apartment, looking down at the people walking through the streets that were once crowded with the undead. A woman walking hand in hand with her young daughter. A man walking his dog. A group of soldiers walking down the sidewalk. It's been so long since the soldiers were needed, it's almost surprising to see them. Normal life for just about everyone had returned. I should be happy. But no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't be.
I almost miss the days when I had to run from shelter to shelter, praying to god that one of the undead hadn't spotted me. When I'd come across another survivor, it was terrible not knowing if they would betray me, kill me in my sleep for my food. Every second lived back then was a second lived in terror. I almost miss it, but...I don't.
​
Now, I have more to worry about in every waking second than I ever though possible back then. Because what I truly miss...What I don't know if I can go on living without...is the taste of human flesh. I miss it and it's...unbearable.
|
"How the hell did you know that would work??" The zombie gurgles out. I didn't respond. Like a familiar smell in the air at the grocery store I was brought back to an earlier time. I knew I had heard these words before. Yes! We came across that group of zombinals and I swear we heard one of the zombies start talking. Them focks really figured out you could eat zombie if you boiled it in baking soda. How many did they... never mind.
"Dude, hello wtf is going on," the now very much more human looking zombie manages. Hmmmm, buddy seems fairly chill.
"Hey what's up man, you tried to kill me, which I mean, fair, you were a zombie. But then I bit you cus I ran out of options and figured teeth count as weapons for Valhallas sake and then you got all humaney again."
"Well shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, I feel great and really hungry you got any ughhahdjfjdjjdjsjs" the manbie lurched out while crumpling to the ground. As the manbie vomited up what I can only assume arn't cow eyeballs; I pondered the ramifications of what just happened. Funk, I'm gonna have to bite so many zombies. Wait no, I'm the saviour. I returned their humanity so they must do the work to return others humanity.
"Hey dude once you're done I have a little something for you, this is big, we're gonna change the world" I say to the heaving manbie. "arghghgglllllll"
"Yeee I'll give you a minute." I take a seat and pour myself a nice 12 year scotch. Idiots never scavenged the liquor stores. Everyone's always about 'water' and 'being aware,' but I like to have a little fun with the apocalypse.
"Where am I?" The now pretty much human dude barked out.
"California," I replied.
"Where in California?"
"30 outside San Francisco"
"This is not thirty minutes outside San Francisco"
"Not minutes, days.
"Shiiiiiiiiiiit."
"We gotta start turning zombies back into humans dude. We will create an empire! It's perfect, I'm 55, you're like 20, so I can be the supreme ruler of humanity for a few more years and then you can take over sooner than you know it without any assassinations needed!
|
|
[WP] You are a secret immortal who accidentally won a '$2000 per week for the rest of your life lottery'. The lottery organizers don't understand why you want to turn down the prize as your excuses grow increasingly more far-fetched.
|
"Bubbles."
"What? That makes no sense."
"Exactly," he exhaled as if his breath weighed more than a blacksmiths hammer.
The organizers of the lottery were perplexed. On the street stands a non-descript man, even if a little odd. He had long flowing hair, almost like one of those beatniks from the photos of Haight-Asbury from the 60s. He had been trying to turn down the insta-lottery he won on live tv for the past 20 minutes.
The game-show was an all-time favorite of the area. A random person is chosen at random by number. Once a number is selected, a van filled with video equipment and Gary the announcer sits and waits. They wait for people to pass by - counting each as they pass. Once they hit the magic number - today, 3172, Gary and the cameramen jump out and surprise the lucky winner.
Never before has a reaction been recorded like the one taking place between Gary and the almost-Jesus looking figure standing shocked.
"Now, sir, you have to know you just won enough money to take care of your every need for the rest of your life," Gary said, while swinging his mic widely to emphasize the amount of money just won.
"Listen," Mr. I haven't shaved in months said, or so thought the viewers, live in prime-time. "I just don't want the money. "I have tried to explain why I don't need it, but the truth is I have all my money invested in bubbles, you know, like the things that float in the air and pop?"
Gary was at a loss. He heard his producer in his ear, suggesting to just get a picture with the fellow and then cut the feed. As Gary tried to speak, Mr. Grateful Dead started walking away from the camera. This long hair almost floating in the dry heat of the summer in the city.
After a few steps, the gentlemen looked back at the camera and said: "every so often, there are great financial bubbles. Land speculation of the 1790s. Railroad speculation in 1932. The dotcom bust of 2000. More land speculation in 2008. All have one thing in common - greed. I don't need the money because I avoid the bubbles. But not bubble baths."
|
You know, when you really really want something... It's probably not going to happen. But if you cross your fingers for the otherwise, bum. There it is.
The world has been always fucking with me, so when I won the life lottery, I just hide my face in hands. Not even this single time. What are the odds?
"Congrats!" was the first thing I heard picking up the phone. That's Henry, overexcited.
I hoped that it's not what I think it is. Maybe, I don't know, just maybe, I somehow happened to become a surprise father or... whatever. But I knew it was this fucking lottery.
"You haven't watched the show? You won! You lucky bastard, you won, you are rich now! Where do you take me first?" Henry's loud laugh filled up my head through the right ear.
Why would I even agree to buy the lottery tickets with him? I got too much alcohol. My head was always weak and full of stupid ideas, that could be realized only with the thinner blood.
$2000 per week, for the rest of my life. For the rest of my life, that happen to be immortal. Can you believe it? How do I handle it? How long can I make excuses? I tried to convince Henry to get the money. But he called me crazy and didn't want to take any pence out of it. I tried to turn down the reward reaching the promoters, but they wouldn't hear me out. They say it's shock and I'll be glad to take the money as it fades away in the span of next days.
But I have more than enough money already. I gathered it over my life, over a time that make me live through several generations so far, and that's not going to end soon.
I decided to take the additional funds. I'd put them in investments. Buying gold, valuable things, stocks... I'd also put some money weekly for charities and science grants.
I need to fake my own death to hide my immortality anyway, so when the time comes, I'll write a long letter and sign the last will, passing anything I ever gathered thanks to the lottery. To Henry. My best and the only true friend.
|
|
[WP] You are a secret immortal who accidentally won a '$2000 per week for the rest of your life lottery'. The lottery organizers don't understand why you want to turn down the prize as your excuses grow increasingly more far-fetched.
|
"No, seriously, I'm not going to take the damn money." Stan slammed the phone back on it's hook, and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Was that those lottery scammers again?" Justin asked, making his way to the couch and plopping next to him.
"Yeah, they won't bugger off. This is like, the 7th time they've called to try and make me take their 'cash prize'."
"Eh, maybe you should take it, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Oh I don't knowww, Justin, maybe the fact that it's 2k a week for the rest of my life, if they're legit, they could find out that I don't exactly... age and stick me in a lab somewhere in the desert to poke at me!"
"Like you haven't escaped a facility before."
"Yeah, well, I don't exactly fancy going back to one-"
**'Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna talk anymore, I left my head and my heart on the dance floor-'**
He snatched the phone off the hook again as Justin laughed, "How many times do I have to tell you-"
"Sir, please, we're just trying to give you your rightly earned prize."
"What part of 'I don't want it' do you people not understand."
"I understand, Sir, but our Guidelines state-"
"I don't give a shit about your Guidelines, *Sir*," Stan scowled, "I never entered your contest, I don't want the prize, so redraw already and, kindly screw off."
The phone landed on the hook again.
"...You gave them their own ringtone?"
"Yes, I thought it was fitting."
**'Stop calling-'**
"Oh what now, you better be calling to tell me that you're drawing someone else, or I'm gonna report you all for harassment."
"Sir?" A woman's voice came through this time, "I understand you've told my employee's that you don't want the prize-"
"Yeah Lady, multiple times."
"..And you've given a variety of excuses before simply getting annoyed at our calls. May I ask what your real reason for not wanting the money could possibly be?"
"Oh I don't know Ma'am, maybe the fact that I'm already a millionaire, surprised you people didn't recognize my name, and thus have no *use*, for 2k a week. Or maybe that I don't care what kind of scam you're running, but I never entered any contest, and I don't *want* your god damn prize."
"We aren't a scam, Sir, and according to my records, someone entered with your name. Maybe a family member entered, whatever, doesn't matter. As long as the first drawn winner claims the prize, we could care less."
"Sweetheart, I don't care what you want or need, I want you to leave me alone, do not call me again."
*Click*.
Dis is me being bored & avoiding writing what I *should* be writing. If you want to support me avoiding what I should be doing, you can at my [Subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/KensleyNorris/comments/ifeef1/uktarnj_wp_you_are_a_secret_immortal_who/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3).
|
You know, when you really really want something... It's probably not going to happen. But if you cross your fingers for the otherwise, bum. There it is.
The world has been always fucking with me, so when I won the life lottery, I just hide my face in hands. Not even this single time. What are the odds?
"Congrats!" was the first thing I heard picking up the phone. That's Henry, overexcited.
I hoped that it's not what I think it is. Maybe, I don't know, just maybe, I somehow happened to become a surprise father or... whatever. But I knew it was this fucking lottery.
"You haven't watched the show? You won! You lucky bastard, you won, you are rich now! Where do you take me first?" Henry's loud laugh filled up my head through the right ear.
Why would I even agree to buy the lottery tickets with him? I got too much alcohol. My head was always weak and full of stupid ideas, that could be realized only with the thinner blood.
$2000 per week, for the rest of my life. For the rest of my life, that happen to be immortal. Can you believe it? How do I handle it? How long can I make excuses? I tried to convince Henry to get the money. But he called me crazy and didn't want to take any pence out of it. I tried to turn down the reward reaching the promoters, but they wouldn't hear me out. They say it's shock and I'll be glad to take the money as it fades away in the span of next days.
But I have more than enough money already. I gathered it over my life, over a time that make me live through several generations so far, and that's not going to end soon.
I decided to take the additional funds. I'd put them in investments. Buying gold, valuable things, stocks... I'd also put some money weekly for charities and science grants.
I need to fake my own death to hide my immortality anyway, so when the time comes, I'll write a long letter and sign the last will, passing anything I ever gathered thanks to the lottery. To Henry. My best and the only true friend.
|
|
[WP] You are a secret immortal who accidentally won a '$2000 per week for the rest of your life lottery'. The lottery organizers don't understand why you want to turn down the prize as your excuses grow increasingly more far-fetched.
|
"No, seriously, I'm not going to take the damn money." Stan slammed the phone back on it's hook, and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Was that those lottery scammers again?" Justin asked, making his way to the couch and plopping next to him.
"Yeah, they won't bugger off. This is like, the 7th time they've called to try and make me take their 'cash prize'."
"Eh, maybe you should take it, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Oh I don't knowww, Justin, maybe the fact that it's 2k a week for the rest of my life, if they're legit, they could find out that I don't exactly... age and stick me in a lab somewhere in the desert to poke at me!"
"Like you haven't escaped a facility before."
"Yeah, well, I don't exactly fancy going back to one-"
**'Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna talk anymore, I left my head and my heart on the dance floor-'**
He snatched the phone off the hook again as Justin laughed, "How many times do I have to tell you-"
"Sir, please, we're just trying to give you your rightly earned prize."
"What part of 'I don't want it' do you people not understand."
"I understand, Sir, but our Guidelines state-"
"I don't give a shit about your Guidelines, *Sir*," Stan scowled, "I never entered your contest, I don't want the prize, so redraw already and, kindly screw off."
The phone landed on the hook again.
"...You gave them their own ringtone?"
"Yes, I thought it was fitting."
**'Stop calling-'**
"Oh what now, you better be calling to tell me that you're drawing someone else, or I'm gonna report you all for harassment."
"Sir?" A woman's voice came through this time, "I understand you've told my employee's that you don't want the prize-"
"Yeah Lady, multiple times."
"..And you've given a variety of excuses before simply getting annoyed at our calls. May I ask what your real reason for not wanting the money could possibly be?"
"Oh I don't know Ma'am, maybe the fact that I'm already a millionaire, surprised you people didn't recognize my name, and thus have no *use*, for 2k a week. Or maybe that I don't care what kind of scam you're running, but I never entered any contest, and I don't *want* your god damn prize."
"We aren't a scam, Sir, and according to my records, someone entered with your name. Maybe a family member entered, whatever, doesn't matter. As long as the first drawn winner claims the prize, we could care less."
"Sweetheart, I don't care what you want or need, I want you to leave me alone, do not call me again."
*Click*.
Dis is me being bored & avoiding writing what I *should* be writing. If you want to support me avoiding what I should be doing, you can at my [Subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/KensleyNorris/comments/ifeef1/uktarnj_wp_you_are_a_secret_immortal_who/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3).
|
“Hello Mr. [name here], you still haven’t agreed on taking the prize.”
I look at the amount of calls under their number. It’s close to a few hundred now...
“Seriously, I said that I have no wish to get the reward. You might as well just give it all to charity.”
“But sir, we can’t do that on our own. You have to come to us and sign everything, then the money is yours to spend on anything as well as giving it to charity.”
“Fine, if you could give me a month as I’ll return to the country in about that time.” I said, trying to get some time for myself to think things through and work out a plan.
“Yes, we’ll be waiting for you to come to us in that time!”
As they were saying that, I hung up.
“God damn it! This is what I get for signing up for it as a joke. Well, at least it was just my name and phone number that was required so I might find a way to... Wait a moment, I just got an idea!”
The idea basically was me finding a partner in crime, asking them to change their name to mine then marrying me. Divorcing in a few weeks while letting them keep my family name and giving them my phone number to use.
With this plan in mind, I went through all my friends that were mortal and didn’t have parents alive. As luck would have it, I had a few and one of them agreed to it.
“I did agree to it, but I want to ask just in case. Why don’t you want such easy money?” asked friend.
“Let’s just say, I don’t want to have extra income on the bank account other than from my job. Dealing with taxes is a pain and I earn enough as is.” I answer by glossing over the issue.
Friend looks at me strangely.
“Don’t give me that look, you’re the one getting the money now and all you had to do is be fake-homosexual for a few weeks and change your first name, which can always be changed back. What’re your plans for the money now by the way?” I tried to change the topic.
“Nothing as of yet, but it’s always good to have extra money laying around. So might as well have it.” Answered he while shrugging.
Later that month he came to the lottery office, got signed and everything was fine. And as for me, I changed my phone number and continued with my life.
|
|
[WP] You are a secret immortal who accidentally won a '$2000 per week for the rest of your life lottery'. The lottery organizers don't understand why you want to turn down the prize as your excuses grow increasingly more far-fetched.
|
"Hello, Sye Porter, who is this?"
"..."
"Look, I can't accept the damn money!"
"..."
"Why does it matter that I keep giving you reason after reason?"
"..."
"Oh for fuck sake. I am done. I don't want the damn money because I will bankrupt your lottery scheme. You'll be so fucked your great great grandchildren will die from Alzheimer, because no health insurance company would touch deadbeats!"
"..."
"Oh, I'm the arsehole for making you cry? You people have been calling me long enough that's it ruining my plans!"
"..."
"Excuse me?! Who the hell are you to insult my life? I've been on this damn planet for thousands of years. I am the only living authority on the life of Boudicca; I can tell anyone who asks that the thing she loved most about when flowers were in bloom was having her brains fucked out in the middle of a field of them! I should know because I’d never hear the end of it from her if I slacked off on training for her carnal insanity fueled by an overload of the senses from all the flower scents around her!”
“...”
“Oh I could show you moves that the Catholics and Christians expunged.”
“...”
“Fine. Carver park at six. There’s an Italian bistro a block down from the park. Dinner first, after I’ll give you history lessons.”
“...”
“Wonderful, see you then Jen.”
|
When you have unlimited time to live, you'll get certain advantages. With my 500+ years of knowledge, i know my way through life, i saw things that mortal mind can't even comprehend. And yet, i decided to buy that fucking lottery ticket!
\*Reng\* \*Reng\*
Why? Why did i buy it? What can it possibly help my life?
\*Reng\* \*Reng\* \*Reng\*
Cant stand it anymore, i graped the phone.
" WHAT? "
" Sir, like i said before, you have won the ForeverLife Prize, that's mean you get $2000 per week for the resssst of your life "
Calming my voice and try not to yell , i reply " And like i said before, i wish to decline that offer "
"But sir, it's $2000, PER WEEK, we promise we not some scam trying to rob you, we sponsor by the gov... "
"I know, i know, i just ... don't like that kind of money in my life! Okay? So can you chose someone else? trust me on this, i'm doing you a favor here "
"I don't think we can sir, your name is already on our network. To other people, you already a very rich man. If you don't accept, you only got fame but not any gain"
Fuck me... worst-case scenario had happened. Oh god, I mocking myself with a whispering voice
" Just buy the ticket like a normal person, Daniel, what can one ticket possibly do you any harm. Like you have a chance to win in 1/1000000 people, haha, HAHA "
"What was that sir? "
"Nothing, then just take it down, can you ?" - i try looking for some hope.
"Look sir, if you don't have an acceptable reason, we can't do that, our audience gonna think we're just a scam."
" I can't, because i .. um .. i had health problems, i get little nut when i saw big cash." - What kind of excuse is that? asking myself
" But why you buy the lottery in the first place? "
" ... um .. i got trick into buying it? "
" Who? "
" Idk? A guy " - A 300 years old big brain answer. Good job Daniel.
" A guy ..? And why does "a guy" want you to buy a billion-dollar prize ticket?"
"You tell me? Maybe he from your company, and try to sabotage the game?"
"Why making you win help sabotage the game ?"
"... To help his family rich? who know? "
" So you are family to the "guy"? So it's not just some guy?
"No, what, ... I don't have fam... I DON'T KNOW WHO THAT GUY ITS"
"SO WHY YOU KNOW HE'S HELPING HIS FAMILY?"
"OH MY GOD" - i yelled
Deep breath Daniel, deep breth.
"Why you keep asking me questions? Give the money to the toilet's museum for all i care! i don't want this attention. okay?"
"... " - only slience.
" okay ? .." - i repeated myself.
" i see what i can do "
" Finally, thank you"- then i hang up the phone.
​
Annoyed, i decide to take a bath. After that, prepare my lunch, this is too much for 1 morning. Or so i thought.
\*Ding dong\*
What now???
I open the door and saw a bunch of reporters, with cameras, and microphones pointing at my face.
"Sir, sir, is this true that you give that $2000 prize to a toilet's museum in Alabama?"
"Sir, do you know you're going viral online? "
"Sir, sir do you ..."
...
I frown - " Goodjob Daniel"
|
|
[WP] You are a secret immortal who accidentally won a '$2000 per week for the rest of your life lottery'. The lottery organizers don't understand why you want to turn down the prize as your excuses grow increasingly more far-fetched.
|
Day 201 – he crossed it off his calendar, sighing. Two hundred and one days suffering this hellish life where everyone around him managed to grow old and die. All he ever wanted to do was die.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, Mister George! It’s wicked, I promise!” Ronnie said. George could feel him grinning at the other end of the line, the boy who’d mowed his lawn and had tea with him since the past two years. George forced himself to not blurt the truth – that’d he have to vanish on Ronnie in a few months, for the keep his immortality unknown was a task which required being alone…forever.
“You really didn’t have to, kid.”
“It’s alright, I didn’t spend much. You’ll probably get the call in a few minutes!” Ronnie giggled and hung up. George put the landline down and pushed his negative thoughts away. A surprise. It’s been long since anyone gave him a surprise. He smiled, finishing his tea and stared at the landline for the next few minutes until he heard it vigorously vibrate with irritating music.
“‘Morning, is this George…Woodrow I’m speaking to?” A woman with a higher-than-usual pitched voice squeaked on the other end, all bubbly.
“Yes. What’s this about?”
“Sir, today’s your lucky day! With your name entered by a Ronnie Caston, you’ve won the ultimate jackpot!”
“Oh? Uh, jackpot?”
“$2000 a week, Sir, till you, you know, die – not to be morbid or anything. Congratulations, Sir, and I’ll need your address and - ”
“W-wait, for my entire life! Are you insane? Is this a prank?” George replied, this couldn’t be legitimate, life had already treated him like a piece of shit, was Fate trying to humour him? “Listen, I don’t want it, the jackpot- the lottery- whatever the fuck this is. Keep it. Give it to a charity. Hell, if you want it, take it!” Panic seized his mind. The government would *not* treat immortals well.
“Sir, with all due respect, you’ll need to get a lawyer. You can’t refuse...its in our policy. Ronnie, the boy – your grandson, I believe, knew that. Besides, this is an opportunity of a lifetime! You could buy a mansion or-” The woman spoke softly, as if she were explaining the process to a five-year-old.
“Stop, look, the boy- Ronnie, he isn’t my grandson, and I don’t want the lottery. I don’t bloody spend a hundred every week, what the hell will I do with $2000! This is absurd.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, I am, but that isn’t valid reason, not according to our policy. You ought to take the cash.”
George heaved. “This will be awkward, you probably won’t believe me, but I’m not dying…ever.”
The line went silent.
Static emerged. George couldn't hear his breathing over the pulsing of his ears.
A steely voice laced with quiet venom replied, “Yes, Mr Woodrow, we know.”
\- - -
Constructive criticism is very welcome! If you could, please comment how you liked it, I'd appreciate that :)
|
“Mr. Smith, please, I just don’t understand why you’d turn this down, I almost care more about satisfying my curiosity than doing my job at this point.” The man in the bow-tie had huffed, wiping his forehead with a posh handkerchief. He had come around nearly every day for the past week to pester me. After a week of his persistence in spite of my dismissals, I figured I’d finally try to put this to rest with a conversation. So there we were, sat in my kitchen, as he shuffled through his satchel for what I assumed was any relevant persuasive literature. He looked satisfied as he found the folders he was looking for, setting them down on the table beside us.
“Well I simply do not understand how I could have even entered such a contest” I replied, passing him a cup of tea. Troublesome or no, I believed in being courteous to guests. Maintaining appearances and civility as an immortal was important. I learned that from an old Vampire friend. Though, that advice had been followed by less useful remarks regarding feeding on prey, something I didn’t have need of as a Regenerative Type. Still, what I wouldn’t give to be rid of this particular problem. Damnable moral compass, compels me to decency. The young man in the bow-tie, still sweaty from standing in the sun outside of my house all day, thanked me for the tea under his breath as he blew on it before taking a sip and making a satisfied noise. He set the tea down and began to address my question.
“I tried explaining this last time, but you were on your way out the door. See, we use a very granular lottery system, it chooses a state, then a county, a street, and then an address, then a resident. Any legal occupant of any property in the country is eligible.” He took another sip “Damn this tea is good, er, pardon my french.”
“Yes, well, je te pardonne. But you must tell your employer that I cannot accept this.” I crossed my legs, taking a sip of tea, it did nothing for me, but I did enjoy the taste.
“Mr. Smith-”
“Please, call me David.”
“Sure. David, my bosses are going to want to know why you can’t accept. It takes a long time to generate lottery results the way we do it, and you’re among our first round of recipients” He took another sip “Honestly, I’d like to know too. Many people would die to have this kind of thing happen to them. Need I remind you that we’re talking about 2,000 a week, for life?”
He adjusted his classes, which had slid down his nose a bit due to his perspiration. He had waited for hours outside my home just to do his job. The young man was rather tenacious, and I’d felt a twinge of guilt at trying to wait him out earlier. I owed him some kind of explanation, false or otherwise.
“Very well. Tell them that I simply have no need for the money and would rather see it go to someone less fortunate.” I crossed my legs, and took another sip of tea. The young man cocked an eyebrow at me, and ran his fingers through his dampened brown hair.
“Sir, I… highly doubt that.” He said.
“Beg pardon?” I replied, my own expression becoming not unlike his, incredulous and somewhat annoyed. His face quickly changed to one of embarrassment, he raised his hands and stammered out his reasoning.
“I-I just, it’s just, seeing you prepare that tea, it’s apparent that you’ve fallen on hard times, n-no offense. You have a lovely home, quite large, even, but...” He sighed, and composed himself before continuing, calmly this time. “You have one box of tea in that entire cupboard, and your fridge, there’s only a filtered pitcher of water. I just don’t see how you expect me to believe your excuse. I’m not sure if it’s pride that’s keeping you from accepting our offer but- ”
“You’re awfully observant.” I said, uncrossing my legs. His face flushed, yet again, as he broke eye contact.
“I… used to be a journalist, old habits, I guess.” He fidgeted with his collar a bit, realizing his bow-tie was slightly askew.
“Why aren’t you still?” I asked, genuinely curious about the young man for the first time since he started harassing me.
“People didn’t find my work very interesting. They didn’t want to read the biographies of everyday strangers. I was only being given investigative work and I found it draining. Look, Mr. Sm- er, David. I just want to help you out here. Level with me, please”
“Fine, you want the truth, then?” I sighed, and pinched the bridge of my nose, thinking of something to say. I recalled some advice given to me by a demigod friend: If they start to ask about your amenities, tell them you’ve just moved. “I... don’t have anything because I’ve only just moved here, I’ve been eating fast food and instant noodles I keep in a box by my bed.”
He looked relieved for a moment, but then, paused, and looked somewhat confused. He opened one of the folders he’d set down earlier, and scanned it, after a moment, he’d looked annoyed.
“That’s… strange. Our records show that you inherited this home from your father, one… David Smith VII?” He looked up at me with a curious look, and for a moment I’d worried that his records contained pictures. Strong genetics can only take one so far as an excuse when the descendants you’re pretending to be look exactly like you. Luckily, he simply remarked quietly on how uncommon it was to see a family name last so long. “Still,” He continued, his annoyance seemingly curbed by the unusual happenstance “I’m feeling a bit pulled around here. Why go through all the trouble of lying about your family home?”
That’s it, family, like an old Fae friend once said, most people will abandon lines of questioning that take them toward sensitive or taboo topics. I knew exactly what to do.
“Damn it all, fine, I’ll admit it. I was embarrassed. You see, it was my father’s dying wish that I make an honest living, and never accept help, as it was his father’s wish before him. Please, inform your employers and leave it at that. It... pains me to remember his passing.”
“Oh, that is bullshit” he replied immediately, standing, and knocking what was left of his tea onto the floor “If you- oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said, derailing himself as he quickly knelt to pick up the shattered remains of the teacup and using his handkerchief to sop up what he could of the spill. For a moment, I just stared at him. What an odd man, I thought, to have politely wandered his way into my rather expansive life, threatening to derail my comfortable anonymity with his bluster and curiosity. All for some silly contest.
“Why do you care so much about this?” I finally asked. He looked up at me, as he carefully placed the last shard in his hand. He rose, and moved to place the shards in a trash bin, before noticing I didn’t have one, and placing them gently on the kitchen counter. He stopped for a moment to deliberate.
“Well... This new lottery program, it’s being funded by some very wealthy people with some very big dreams. They want to collect data and use it to make a case for social reforms. Universal basic income, something like that. I think if it goes well there could be big changes in this country.”
Quaint. I wondered how useful such data would be with such a large sum. 8,000 dollars a month for life seemed like quite a lot. Maybe these benefactors were just out of touch. I knew how that could be, certainly.
“That can’t be the only reason you’ve so fervently pursued my participation, surely.” I said, leaning on the counter. He seemed to have calmed down, in spite of his willingness to become riled up, he was a very thoughtful communicator, it seemed. He looked up through the kitchen skylight, at the cloudless blue sky, and sighed.
“No, I s’pose it isn’t. I guess the real reason I took this job was to learn about people, feed my hobby for writing about people’s lives. The fact that you had worked so hard to avoid me only made my curiosity worse.” He chuckled.“I see.”
“Ugh, I’m a little ashamed now, I’ve totally lost all semblance of providing quality customer service. I don’t even remember how we got here. I’m sorry about your father, it was insensitive of me to doubt you.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“It’s... quite alright” I replied, feeling a bit awkward, for the first time in decades.
“I’ll let my boss know, one dropout shouldn’t affect anything too much anyhow.” He shifted a bit before meeting my gaze again “Uh, sorry to ask, do you have a restroom I could use before I go?”
Ah, that was one thing I did have, hard to find a home for sale without one, after all.
“Sure, it’s right this way” I said, turning, and promptly slipping on the still slick floor. My skull made an audible cracking noise as it hit the corner of the oak dining table.
|
|
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival.
|
I watched from what I felt was a respectful distance as the last of the mourners arrived at the grave site. The sky above was bright blue, the sun shining gently down on those gathered to pay their final respects to Thomas Trumbull, the hero the world knew as Empyrean. I knew him, not so very long ago, as a righteous pain in the ass.
At least, that's what he was to me before his run-in with the Criplets. They had beaten him senseless, left him bleeding in an alley. Tommy never truly recovered from their attack. While he had kept his powers, more or less, his mind... A traumatic brain injury, it left him incapable of any real superheroing. He was easily outwitted by even the most petty of criminals. He often lost track of what he was doing. And all this was further compounded by the fact that Tommy often used his powers out of costume, or forgot his mask entirely before going on patrol. His secret identity didn't last long, and while many heroes tried to keep an eye out for him, they weren't fully successful in keeping him corralled and safe.
I am ashamed to admit that I initially found his circumstances entertaining. I watched the videos posted online, read through the blogs, and generally kept myself amused by my old enemy's bungling. But as time went on, and Empyrean continued to try to fight crime despite his handicap, I found myself laughing less and less at his actions. Too often he nearly got himself killed, coming up against a villain that he probably could have beaten in his prime, but could no longer keep up with mentally. Or he'd make himself look foolish, his inability to process information or react swiftly leaving him vulnerable to even the most base deception. It bothered me, especially when one of the local radio stations began a regular segment they called the "Tommy Report," mocking the man I used to consider a serious threat to my plans.
And so, I sought out one of the heroes who had often come to Empyrean's aid and who helped keep Tommy out of danger after his injury. Tidal and I had rarely interacted, as our powers weren't very effective against one another. I've never been entirely sure why, though I have theories. But I digress. Our lack of interaction was what made it easy to approach him. He almost didn't recognize me in civilian clothing, but by then I had already approached, my hands aloft, and offered to speak peacefully. I laid out my plan, and after some questions he agreed to help.
Over the next six months, some of the lesser villains of our city found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, their crimes interrupted by Empyrean's fortuitous arrival. Tommy was never able to actually capture any of them, but watching the videos and speaking with my subordinates, it was obvious that he was taking a great deal of pride in his "accomplishments." It was satisfying, to see my former rival regain some of the respect he had once earned. The "Tommy Report" became less mocking in tone, and he was held up as an example of what even those with disabilities could do.
And, if I am honest (and I feel I must be), I used those incidents as a distraction. They allowed me to have the attention of at least a few of the city's heroes on those encounters, rather than on my own endeavors. I was careful not to let word slip out that these acts were my doing; I did not want to alert Tidal or any of his friends to my scheming.
Nor did I want to see an end to Tommy's superheroics. It made me feel good to be the one behind his renewal of spirit. Tommy was happy. The city was pleased with his feats. The heroes enjoyed helping one of their own. And the villains who participated were given significant leeway should they be caught in the future.
Things were going well. Then, Firebolt came to our city.
It was bad luck, that Tommy happened to be nearby when Firebolt decided to melt his way through a bank vault door to plunder its riches. But he was, and he came to do his duty and protect the city from this new threat. He wasn't wearing his costume; he rarely did now, anyways. But the citizens who had huddled with one another on the lobby floor cheered when he arrived. They knew him, you see. Not just as Empyrean, but as Tommy Trumbull. He was a hero, and he'd come to save them.
There was stunned, shocked silence when Tommy fell just a few moments later. His corpse was gruesome, smoldering and black. It didn't even look human. Firebolt fled, the vault door not entirely breached. I think he knew he had made a mistake, that the heroes of the city would come after him in force. And so he fled to the Underground, where he thought himself safe.
When word reached me, I knew what I would have to do. This was, I told myself, my fault. I had created a false sense of strength and ability in my former foe. I convinced myself that Tommy would have known that Firebolt was out of his league had we not reinforced his belief that he was still a capable, powerful hero. And now, with Tommy gone, my long-term plans would have to change. The heroes who had baby-sat him on his patrols would no longer be so hobbled. The villains who had given their time to make a disabled man feel a sense of accomplishment would no longer have that opportunity.
I gathered those villains to me. Walker, Drumroll, Swiftslip, the Mongoose, Terraria... I brought them together to hunt down Firebolt and end him. For hindering our plans. For bringing the attention of more heroes on our city. For encroaching on our territory. And while we did not say it... for killing Tommy, who we had each come to see as a friend in our own way.
The tunnels beneath the city shook and burned and rippled with power as we fought Firebolt. The civilians above were terrified, though the heroes knew what was happening. Word had spread. Tommy's death would be paid for.
The battle lasted for nearly three hours, and the sun was just rising when Firebolt was delivered to the heroes by Terraria, his limp body bound in slivers of dark, conjured from the abyss. He had killed a hero; they would take him to the Fissure, the extra-dimensional prison for the most violent and dangerous supervillains. He would likely never see Earth again.
I saw many of those heroes in the crowd that stood around Tommy's grave. I could not make out the words of the eulogy, instead opting to think on the times I had battled with Empyrean. I was so focused on my thoughts that I did not know someone had approached until they spoke.
"Eclipse." I whipped my head around. Standing to my left, just a pace away, was Tidal.
"How did you know...?"
He gestured to my hands, and I looked down. Darkstuff was seeping from between my fingers. Only a small bit of it, but enough that it gave me away. I willed it back within me, controlling myself.
"You plan to arrest me?"
He shook his head. "I'm not even sure I could. I know the abyssal powers aren't your only skillset." I smiled at that, turning back to look on the funeral.
He was silent a moment. "It was a good thing you were doing. You couldn't know it would end like this." I grimaced, but did not respond. "Tommy's last few months were filled with some of his proudest moments. And that was because of you. You shouldn't feel guilty."
I let out a sharp note of laughter, loud enough that some of the people at the grave site looked over at us, puzzled or angry.
"I don't feel guilty in the slightest. Tom-- Empyrean was a means to an end. Useful for the time." I looked at Tidal. "But his loss is little more to me than if I had broken a valued tool."
Tidal nodded absently. "If you say so. I just wanted to thank you." He looked at me, more intensely than I was comfortable with. I averted my gaze, looked back at the funeral. "You could do great things if you chose to, Eclipse. And even though he didn't know it, you were Tommy's greatest friend for a time there. I think there's more to you than just the typical villain stuff." He was quiet for a moment again. "Anyways," he said as he slowly began to walk toward the grave, where Tommy was being lowered into the earth, "I just wanted to make sure you knew that what you did was noble."
He did not look back as he spoke, for which I am grateful. I did not want him to see the tears, that I could no longer hold back, rolling down my cheeks.
|
DRIVE: PART I
She couldn’t have crash landed on a more boring and backwater planet. These primitive apes have just barely broken the code of nuclear power -and they did so it the most inefficient way possible, by splitting the atom. For years she simply watched, observing the world from her damaged but cloaked vessel that was buried deep under the Arctic Circle. The few times she stepped out of the craft brewed urban legends.
Things grew much more interesting after a few years of evolution. The humans started developing Esper powers. Not long after that the age of costumed heroes and villains took shape. The invention of the modern internet (a creation she might have had a small hand in by intentionally crashing an observation probe into Roswell) made streaming all the entertaining action on to her ship’s onboard holo-displays easy.
It didn’t take much for her to step out of the confines of the ship and join in on the fun. She donned her lavender mask, a crowning article that completed the costume of “Zero” a small time but successfully villainess known for stealing priceless relics… and the hearts of a few fans. After all, she didn’t want to become too famous. It would be inconvenient to have the humans pry into her deeper secrets.
She perched on top of Paladium City’s second tallest building, scouring for a new treasure to steal. Today it was going to be the Golden Cat of Ra, a priceless Egyptian heirloom held within the “Fort Knox” of museums. Fixated on her new target, she clicked her heels together to form her signature “ice skates” and slid down the side of the building, leaving a trail of misty frost in her wake.
While the museums security measures were decent by human standards, they were child’s play to her. Within minutes she had the cat in hand and was strolling out of the museum in broad daylight. She expected that he would be arriving any minute now…
“Halt in the name of justice!” A stern voice boomed from the rooftops.
It was him, the human Esper known as “Captain Powerdrive.” The Captain had a minor ability that allowed him to amplify the power of his punches. In real combat he wouldn’t last a second against Zero, but she admired his conviction. The captain has been surprisingly successful for his low degree of power and has captured the hearts of the citizens. You couldn’t walk more than 2 blocks through Paladium City without seeing a banner plastered by the captains square jawed face and slogan calls for justice.
The Captain leapt from the rooftop, shaking the earth as he landed. In their last encounter Zero noticed that the captain’s punches were much slower and that his strong mustache was starting to grey. She dulled the blades of her ice skates as he approached. Their last encounter pushed the aging hero further than she wanted; she had to be more careful this time.
To Zero, her perfectly choreographed duels with the captain were the highpoints of her day and offered the greatest escape from the monotony that is Earth. At one point she began to worry about what she would do once her favorite human Esper retired from the world of heroes. Considering his age and diminishing performance, she knew that day would come soon.
“Oh come on Captain…” She cooed. “Your way too slow to keep up with me, but if you want to dance I supposed you can be my plus one.” She then took a combat stance. Why not make this one a good show. The news vans and helicopters were already flooding in.
The captain pounded his fists together and gave her a smirk. Like always she put together a ballad of pirouettes and fancy kicks, accented by just a fraction of her icy powers. Her ice skates shattered against his fists, a planned outcome of course.
As the dance carried on, Zero began mentally counting her recently successful heists. She just had 5 in a row go off without a hitch. She decided she would let the captain have this one. At the apex of the battle the captain reared back, preparing to unleash his signature attack.
Zero gave the captain an opening and he surged forward. “CAPTTAIINNNN DRIVVVERRRRRRRR.” She lost count of the number of blocks the blast launched her and decided it would be a good time for a nap.
Later that night, the local jail would find the iron bars of their finest cell shattered by permafrost and the elusive Zero nowhere to be found.
\*
One week later Zero perched on her favorite building, scouring Paladium City for a new heist to distract her from the doldrums of living among the humans. Something was different about this day and the air had a sinister tinge of sulfur to it.
From the corner of her view, Zero noticed that an entire city block was smoking. She summoned her skates and slid down towards the area. As she drew near, the place looked like a warzone. Entire buildings were half melted into slag and an endless chain craters dotted the roads. A sea of ambulances dotted the area. Zero’s battles with the captain were never short of collateral damage but they were also calculated. Never once did they result in a human casualty.
An unsettling feeling gripped her core as she watched EMS workers load charred bodies into their vehicles. She skated from rooftop to rooftop before arriving at a large crater that marked the center of the chaos. The crater was filled by crowds of reporters and medical personnel. A single gurney with a blue drape over it drew everyone’s attention. The unmistakable cape of Captain Powerdrive could be seen from fluttering from the gurney’s side.
Zero gasped. This had to be fake. Perhaps she was still aboard the ship and the holo-system was malfunctioning. She skated down towards the crowd. The surrounding police immediately drew their pathetically ineffective human weapons. With a wave of her hand, Zero encased their guns in permafrost, making them too cold to handle. The weapons dropped to the ground and shattered.
The crowd parted as the villainess approached. Confused reporters snapped pictures and took live video. Zero extended a shaky hand towards to gurney, grabbing the drape. She had to know.
She pulled gently. The drape fell to the ground and the captain’s defining square jaw could be seen. His exposed skin was pale and an expression of shock captured his final moments. He looked as if some invisible line of honor had been crossed by his assailant –and it likely was. A perfect charred circle was bored into the center of the captain’s chest. Zero stood silent, trapped in a moment that not even her superior alien logic could process.
Casting aside all reason, Zero pounced on the nearest reporter. The poor random was a nasally congested man in a striped brown suit. “WHO DID THIS!” She roared. The man stuttered, unable to form words. Six ice daggers materialized around Zero and struck the earth around the reporter. “TELL ME!”
“Singe! He called himself Singe!” The reporter wailed. Zero loosened her grip and the reporter wormed away.
“Singe.” Zero whispered the name to herself over and over, burning it into memory.
|
|
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival.
|
"Oh my god"
...is really all i can say.
Who the hell even is this guy.
This is my turf.
Just for that i oughta feed him his own fingernails.
His invasion wasnt even the worst thing he did. This coward calling himself "the hunter" goes around to small time games (being the back and forth between heroes and villains, as villains we called them games) and he either locks the villain up, stops the hero, gives the police evidence, or just runs interference until the whole thing is over.
That in itself was infuriating, but harmless in the end, theres always another round. No villain ever stays in prison.
Probably should tell you about our... I guess my game now.
In our little town, the hero went by the name The Ranger. Real stereotypical cowboy guy from the silver age. The lines on his face were just about deep enough to qualify as grandpa material, of course he was.
Rick Redford lived inconspicuously on a 7 acre plot on the west side, married my damsel in distress back when i had to let her go for the job being "demeaning" about 30 years back. His kids had their own kids, i came over under the guise of their neighbor for dinner a few times
Rick never caught on to the game god bless his soul, never was a big picture kind of guy. His wife knew, the cops knew, the mayor knew, thank god the press didnt.
We kept each other both employed and entertained over the years, but ultimately he had a decade or two on me and age started winning out.
I ditched my armor for something that wouldnt bust his knuckles, set fewer traps with less fiddly bits, even turned down the frequency so it looked like he was finally winning after all those years.
Then this bastard comes in.
There are rules you probably know about, they're there for everyone's safety, dont touch the family, dont take all the bank's money, dont shoot the press, but most importantly, never, ever, under any circumstances, is it ever a good idea to kill someone.
What this bastard just did,
I still cant believe it.
That was dirty, even by street standards.
You just dont shoot a man in the back.
You dont put his sidekick in a coma to entice him to fight.
And most importantly,
You dont EVER steal a hero.
I never told anyone just how much damage a sentient pile of sand can do, that would make our little game unbelievable, they're about to find out though
|
(Poem?) To the tune of “Losing My Religion” my REM
Oh, Captain Clobber
(Sigh) there’s slobber
on the bottom of your lip.
I’m ‘bout to aim the laser.
Be careful of your hip.
Oh No, you’ve fallen over.
I’ve pushed too far.
 
That’s me in the Cowl.
That’s me with the spiked boots,
Trying to defeat you.
And trying to keep you from dying.
And I don’t think that you will make it.
Oh No, you’ve broke your hip,
because you slipped.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
Every encounter.
Every epic battle
We’d trade bold proclamations.
And sometimes I would lose.
Our rivalry was bold, bold.
But now you’ve fallen over,
I’ve pushed too far.
 
I let you win.
I made you win,
‘Cuz you couldn’t on your own.
I pushed your hand, and planned,
And you stood proud and noble. Hopeful.
But what if all these fantasies come
crashing down.
Because I think, I’ve pushed too far.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
But time has other plans.
Time has other plans.
 
What’s on the horizon?
Who’s landing her mech-suit
in the city center?
She’s murdered Captain Clobber.
Now i’ll calibrate my lasers.
This villain's gone too far,
Pushed me too far.
 
You’ve just made a mortal rival.
And now we’ll go toe to toe.
I think i’m going to make you die.
 
I fire off my lasers.
tasers, phasers
mega-quasars
To honor Captain Clobber, Captain Clobber
Captain Clobber, Clobber.
|
|
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival.
|
I watched from what I felt was a respectful distance as the last of the mourners arrived at the grave site. The sky above was bright blue, the sun shining gently down on those gathered to pay their final respects to Thomas Trumbull, the hero the world knew as Empyrean. I knew him, not so very long ago, as a righteous pain in the ass.
At least, that's what he was to me before his run-in with the Criplets. They had beaten him senseless, left him bleeding in an alley. Tommy never truly recovered from their attack. While he had kept his powers, more or less, his mind... A traumatic brain injury, it left him incapable of any real superheroing. He was easily outwitted by even the most petty of criminals. He often lost track of what he was doing. And all this was further compounded by the fact that Tommy often used his powers out of costume, or forgot his mask entirely before going on patrol. His secret identity didn't last long, and while many heroes tried to keep an eye out for him, they weren't fully successful in keeping him corralled and safe.
I am ashamed to admit that I initially found his circumstances entertaining. I watched the videos posted online, read through the blogs, and generally kept myself amused by my old enemy's bungling. But as time went on, and Empyrean continued to try to fight crime despite his handicap, I found myself laughing less and less at his actions. Too often he nearly got himself killed, coming up against a villain that he probably could have beaten in his prime, but could no longer keep up with mentally. Or he'd make himself look foolish, his inability to process information or react swiftly leaving him vulnerable to even the most base deception. It bothered me, especially when one of the local radio stations began a regular segment they called the "Tommy Report," mocking the man I used to consider a serious threat to my plans.
And so, I sought out one of the heroes who had often come to Empyrean's aid and who helped keep Tommy out of danger after his injury. Tidal and I had rarely interacted, as our powers weren't very effective against one another. I've never been entirely sure why, though I have theories. But I digress. Our lack of interaction was what made it easy to approach him. He almost didn't recognize me in civilian clothing, but by then I had already approached, my hands aloft, and offered to speak peacefully. I laid out my plan, and after some questions he agreed to help.
Over the next six months, some of the lesser villains of our city found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, their crimes interrupted by Empyrean's fortuitous arrival. Tommy was never able to actually capture any of them, but watching the videos and speaking with my subordinates, it was obvious that he was taking a great deal of pride in his "accomplishments." It was satisfying, to see my former rival regain some of the respect he had once earned. The "Tommy Report" became less mocking in tone, and he was held up as an example of what even those with disabilities could do.
And, if I am honest (and I feel I must be), I used those incidents as a distraction. They allowed me to have the attention of at least a few of the city's heroes on those encounters, rather than on my own endeavors. I was careful not to let word slip out that these acts were my doing; I did not want to alert Tidal or any of his friends to my scheming.
Nor did I want to see an end to Tommy's superheroics. It made me feel good to be the one behind his renewal of spirit. Tommy was happy. The city was pleased with his feats. The heroes enjoyed helping one of their own. And the villains who participated were given significant leeway should they be caught in the future.
Things were going well. Then, Firebolt came to our city.
It was bad luck, that Tommy happened to be nearby when Firebolt decided to melt his way through a bank vault door to plunder its riches. But he was, and he came to do his duty and protect the city from this new threat. He wasn't wearing his costume; he rarely did now, anyways. But the citizens who had huddled with one another on the lobby floor cheered when he arrived. They knew him, you see. Not just as Empyrean, but as Tommy Trumbull. He was a hero, and he'd come to save them.
There was stunned, shocked silence when Tommy fell just a few moments later. His corpse was gruesome, smoldering and black. It didn't even look human. Firebolt fled, the vault door not entirely breached. I think he knew he had made a mistake, that the heroes of the city would come after him in force. And so he fled to the Underground, where he thought himself safe.
When word reached me, I knew what I would have to do. This was, I told myself, my fault. I had created a false sense of strength and ability in my former foe. I convinced myself that Tommy would have known that Firebolt was out of his league had we not reinforced his belief that he was still a capable, powerful hero. And now, with Tommy gone, my long-term plans would have to change. The heroes who had baby-sat him on his patrols would no longer be so hobbled. The villains who had given their time to make a disabled man feel a sense of accomplishment would no longer have that opportunity.
I gathered those villains to me. Walker, Drumroll, Swiftslip, the Mongoose, Terraria... I brought them together to hunt down Firebolt and end him. For hindering our plans. For bringing the attention of more heroes on our city. For encroaching on our territory. And while we did not say it... for killing Tommy, who we had each come to see as a friend in our own way.
The tunnels beneath the city shook and burned and rippled with power as we fought Firebolt. The civilians above were terrified, though the heroes knew what was happening. Word had spread. Tommy's death would be paid for.
The battle lasted for nearly three hours, and the sun was just rising when Firebolt was delivered to the heroes by Terraria, his limp body bound in slivers of dark, conjured from the abyss. He had killed a hero; they would take him to the Fissure, the extra-dimensional prison for the most violent and dangerous supervillains. He would likely never see Earth again.
I saw many of those heroes in the crowd that stood around Tommy's grave. I could not make out the words of the eulogy, instead opting to think on the times I had battled with Empyrean. I was so focused on my thoughts that I did not know someone had approached until they spoke.
"Eclipse." I whipped my head around. Standing to my left, just a pace away, was Tidal.
"How did you know...?"
He gestured to my hands, and I looked down. Darkstuff was seeping from between my fingers. Only a small bit of it, but enough that it gave me away. I willed it back within me, controlling myself.
"You plan to arrest me?"
He shook his head. "I'm not even sure I could. I know the abyssal powers aren't your only skillset." I smiled at that, turning back to look on the funeral.
He was silent a moment. "It was a good thing you were doing. You couldn't know it would end like this." I grimaced, but did not respond. "Tommy's last few months were filled with some of his proudest moments. And that was because of you. You shouldn't feel guilty."
I let out a sharp note of laughter, loud enough that some of the people at the grave site looked over at us, puzzled or angry.
"I don't feel guilty in the slightest. Tom-- Empyrean was a means to an end. Useful for the time." I looked at Tidal. "But his loss is little more to me than if I had broken a valued tool."
Tidal nodded absently. "If you say so. I just wanted to thank you." He looked at me, more intensely than I was comfortable with. I averted my gaze, looked back at the funeral. "You could do great things if you chose to, Eclipse. And even though he didn't know it, you were Tommy's greatest friend for a time there. I think there's more to you than just the typical villain stuff." He was quiet for a moment again. "Anyways," he said as he slowly began to walk toward the grave, where Tommy was being lowered into the earth, "I just wanted to make sure you knew that what you did was noble."
He did not look back as he spoke, for which I am grateful. I did not want him to see the tears, that I could no longer hold back, rolling down my cheeks.
|
(Poem?) To the tune of “Losing My Religion” my REM
Oh, Captain Clobber
(Sigh) there’s slobber
on the bottom of your lip.
I’m ‘bout to aim the laser.
Be careful of your hip.
Oh No, you’ve fallen over.
I’ve pushed too far.
 
That’s me in the Cowl.
That’s me with the spiked boots,
Trying to defeat you.
And trying to keep you from dying.
And I don’t think that you will make it.
Oh No, you’ve broke your hip,
because you slipped.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
Every encounter.
Every epic battle
We’d trade bold proclamations.
And sometimes I would lose.
Our rivalry was bold, bold.
But now you’ve fallen over,
I’ve pushed too far.
 
I let you win.
I made you win,
‘Cuz you couldn’t on your own.
I pushed your hand, and planned,
And you stood proud and noble. Hopeful.
But what if all these fantasies come
crashing down.
Because I think, I’ve pushed too far.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
But time has other plans.
Time has other plans.
 
What’s on the horizon?
Who’s landing her mech-suit
in the city center?
She’s murdered Captain Clobber.
Now i’ll calibrate my lasers.
This villain's gone too far,
Pushed me too far.
 
You’ve just made a mortal rival.
And now we’ll go toe to toe.
I think i’m going to make you die.
 
I fire off my lasers.
tasers, phasers
mega-quasars
To honor Captain Clobber, Captain Clobber
Captain Clobber, Clobber.
|
|
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival.
|
There. Are. Rules. Every villian, Every hero if you take up this power you agree to not cross the line. I stared at the monitor in disbelief. I wasn't going to do it. Decades pass and noone crosses that line.
Disbelief
Pro Tip: Monologs
Yes, they give the hero a chance to regroup. Yes it takes a lot of practice to do one properly. But if you dont. Well, maybe the hero doesn't survive your latest death trap. And the next set of heroes hound you forever.
Arctic Saber lay bleeding on camera for a good five seconds. Nobody wanted to cut away, but noone should have to have seen that. Eventually the world dawned on the idea that the mighty Artctic wouldn't be getting up any more. The shot cut away to a News anchor as she wept silently on camera. The technical difficulties tag popped up quickly after that.
Shock
I digested it quickly. I knew he had gotten old, lost a step. Unlike me, he aged. But I had always played along.
He was a buffoon. But he was MY buffoon! How could this happen?
Pro Tip Families
Leave 'em alone. Nothing destroys a hero faster than taking away his reason to be a boy scout.
I knew Patty Jo Murphy was his wife. I'd have to be a fool to not know how much faster he responded when the threat was in her area of town. Little Jamie was balanced on his shoulders at the age of 4 on a picture I had hidden away on my mantle somewhere. I even blew up an abandoned building on his block last time he tried to 'retire' now all Jaime had was grief and a check I could arrange through a shell insurance company. Like her dad she was good people. Give her too much and she'll just donate it away. I've seen her do stuff like that already. Why did this have to happen?
Anger
Who even IS Bloodwolf? Another petty upstart. A snotnosed juvenile delinquent that aged out of juvie with a mutation and a black heart. This is MY town and he violated the most important rule of villiany.
Never steal another man's hero.
_____
He never knew what hit him. For Sabre I would pretend that his frost blade slowed me down. Fair match right?
Blood wolf got none of that. I move far faster than animal instincts can drive you.
Blackened claws with dried blood from my nemesis still on them raked at me to no effect. My skin is far tougher than that. Two punches had him doubled over coughing his own blood. I broke finger after finger letting his howls drown out the sobs I didn't know I was making. His bounding leap only got him as far as the end of my grasp as I snatched him out of the air. My grip snapped his femur in three spots and turned the leg at a bad angle.
His eyes focused on me, but now the wild look was no longer predatory it was the spark of fear. Its been a long time since I tasted that. That and the smell of urine filled the air when I backhanded him at a wall. He . Barely slid to the floor before i caught him again.
'P-p-please' he whined out
I was beyond mercy. I was well past justice. I was Rage. I would do what no hero could, or should do.
'Dont do it, Justin.'
Jamies' voice reached me where none other could. She was behind me. At the doorway.
'He deserves this' I growled more feral than the pulpy wretch still caught in my iron grasp.
'He does, but you dont.' I could hear the tears in her voice.
'Father said you were worth fighting for because you never broke the rules, even when you could'
'He has to pay.' I sobbed. 'He broke the rules.'
|
(Poem?) To the tune of “Losing My Religion” my REM
Oh, Captain Clobber
(Sigh) there’s slobber
on the bottom of your lip.
I’m ‘bout to aim the laser.
Be careful of your hip.
Oh No, you’ve fallen over.
I’ve pushed too far.
 
That’s me in the Cowl.
That’s me with the spiked boots,
Trying to defeat you.
And trying to keep you from dying.
And I don’t think that you will make it.
Oh No, you’ve broke your hip,
because you slipped.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
Every encounter.
Every epic battle
We’d trade bold proclamations.
And sometimes I would lose.
Our rivalry was bold, bold.
But now you’ve fallen over,
I’ve pushed too far.
 
I let you win.
I made you win,
‘Cuz you couldn’t on your own.
I pushed your hand, and planned,
And you stood proud and noble. Hopeful.
But what if all these fantasies come
crashing down.
Because I think, I’ve pushed too far.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
But time has other plans.
Time has other plans.
 
What’s on the horizon?
Who’s landing her mech-suit
in the city center?
She’s murdered Captain Clobber.
Now i’ll calibrate my lasers.
This villain's gone too far,
Pushed me too far.
 
You’ve just made a mortal rival.
And now we’ll go toe to toe.
I think i’m going to make you die.
 
I fire off my lasers.
tasers, phasers
mega-quasars
To honor Captain Clobber, Captain Clobber
Captain Clobber, Clobber.
|
|
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival.
|
“This is bullshit,” I muttered to myself as I trudged down seemingly endless hallways. A scowl had been painted to my face ever since I had read the news this morning. “Absolute horseshit!” I shouted down the hallway as I threw up my hands, absentmindedly allowing the handcart behind me to come to a noisy stop. I turned around and glared at the cart, knowing full well that I was the one who let it drop. “Fuck you.” I couldn’t say if I was talking to the cart or myself as I got it moving again.
I maintained my canter for a few more minutes as I snaked my way through this ceaseless maze of corridors. My anger boiled up again. “WHO WOULD DECIDE TO LIVE HERE? Dumbshit.” *I’ve been dragging this godsforsaken cart though who-knows-how-many hallways, this absolute COCK better be here.* Another turn and tall wooden doors with golden trim came into view. *Finally, I’m gonna kick these bastards open.* My boot slapped hard against solid wood as the rattling door hinges echoed down the maze of hallways I had just traversed. I sheepishly fumbled with the door latch before giving them one last kick that resulted in the desired effect.
The antechamber was a bit larger than I had expected, and the bastard himself was sitting smugly atop his throne at the opposite end of the chamber. “Welcome, King of Arrakea, I see you’ve finally come to bargain, you know---” the smug look on his face was immediately replace with confusion, “who the hell are you?”
“A pissed off neighbor,” I grumbled as the cart lurched forward into the room with me. I realized I was staring daggers at him. My anger boiled up again and took control as I found myself shouting “I’m gonna need you to fuck off out of this city right now.” I reached the center of the room and let the cart drop with a resounding clap against the tiles.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said dryly as the smug look returned to his face, “you see I’ve already---”
“Shut the fuck up! I don’t care! You ruined everything! *Do you even know what you did!?”* I guess I just won’t have any composure here. Let him feel your anger. “I’ve been working for years here and you think you can just waltz in here and do whatever you see fit?”
“The strong do whatever they see fit,” the smug look hadn’t left his face but it was clear he was getting annoyed, “This will be my kingdom soon, see to it that you---”
“FUCK. OFF.” I pulled the knife from my belt as I began to circle the cart. I ripped the canvas off the top to reveal the body that I had been dragging though the halls. Clad in aging steel armor that had certainly seen better days, blood stained the chest plate where dark magic had clearly shredded the steel. “You killed Old Roy. All he has ever done is protect this city. Sure he’s not that great at it, but it was still his calling.” I looked down at his face. The expression of horror wasn’t befitting his usual defiant countenance. “And I never sent too much for him to handle…” Tears started to well up behind my eyes. *Focus up, give him your anger. Show him your power.*
“All I had been doing was trying to find out the secrets to life. Sure, the byproduct tended to be a certain number of zombies, but Old Roy here always kept them out of the city. I never hurt anyone with my work.” My grip on the knife tightened. “All I wanted to do was bring back my wife. I didn’t care that I was labelled as villain.” The tears started rolling down my face despite making the mental effort to hold them back. In a way, Old Roy was the only person I was interacting with anymore. I had certainly grown lonely over the years. “I don’t know who you are and why you are here, but you have to leave.” *He has to fucking LEAVE this plane of existence.*
The man in the throne motioned to speak up, but I spoke over him once more. “Before you die, I’ll let you know something I learned over my decades of research.” The knife blade slid across the palm of my other hand, and as the blood started to flow I held it over Old Roy’s fatal wound. “Those who lived with great conviction always come back as the strongest.” The white-hot flames of life erupted out of the hole in Old Roy’s armor. “And I’ve never met anyone as convicted as Old Roy.”
The smug look on the man’s face had grown to a look of realization and horror as Roy began to rise, fire in his eyes even though his mind was surely vacant now.
“We’re both going to die right here by the hand of Old Roy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
|
(Poem?) To the tune of “Losing My Religion” my REM
Oh, Captain Clobber
(Sigh) there’s slobber
on the bottom of your lip.
I’m ‘bout to aim the laser.
Be careful of your hip.
Oh No, you’ve fallen over.
I’ve pushed too far.
 
That’s me in the Cowl.
That’s me with the spiked boots,
Trying to defeat you.
And trying to keep you from dying.
And I don’t think that you will make it.
Oh No, you’ve broke your hip,
because you slipped.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
Every encounter.
Every epic battle
We’d trade bold proclamations.
And sometimes I would lose.
Our rivalry was bold, bold.
But now you’ve fallen over,
I’ve pushed too far.
 
I let you win.
I made you win,
‘Cuz you couldn’t on your own.
I pushed your hand, and planned,
And you stood proud and noble. Hopeful.
But what if all these fantasies come
crashing down.
Because I think, I’ve pushed too far.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
But time has other plans.
Time has other plans.
 
What’s on the horizon?
Who’s landing her mech-suit
in the city center?
She’s murdered Captain Clobber.
Now i’ll calibrate my lasers.
This villain's gone too far,
Pushed me too far.
 
You’ve just made a mortal rival.
And now we’ll go toe to toe.
I think i’m going to make you die.
 
I fire off my lasers.
tasers, phasers
mega-quasars
To honor Captain Clobber, Captain Clobber
Captain Clobber, Clobber.
|
|
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival.
|
I watched from what I felt was a respectful distance as the last of the mourners arrived at the grave site. The sky above was bright blue, the sun shining gently down on those gathered to pay their final respects to Thomas Trumbull, the hero the world knew as Empyrean. I knew him, not so very long ago, as a righteous pain in the ass.
At least, that's what he was to me before his run-in with the Criplets. They had beaten him senseless, left him bleeding in an alley. Tommy never truly recovered from their attack. While he had kept his powers, more or less, his mind... A traumatic brain injury, it left him incapable of any real superheroing. He was easily outwitted by even the most petty of criminals. He often lost track of what he was doing. And all this was further compounded by the fact that Tommy often used his powers out of costume, or forgot his mask entirely before going on patrol. His secret identity didn't last long, and while many heroes tried to keep an eye out for him, they weren't fully successful in keeping him corralled and safe.
I am ashamed to admit that I initially found his circumstances entertaining. I watched the videos posted online, read through the blogs, and generally kept myself amused by my old enemy's bungling. But as time went on, and Empyrean continued to try to fight crime despite his handicap, I found myself laughing less and less at his actions. Too often he nearly got himself killed, coming up against a villain that he probably could have beaten in his prime, but could no longer keep up with mentally. Or he'd make himself look foolish, his inability to process information or react swiftly leaving him vulnerable to even the most base deception. It bothered me, especially when one of the local radio stations began a regular segment they called the "Tommy Report," mocking the man I used to consider a serious threat to my plans.
And so, I sought out one of the heroes who had often come to Empyrean's aid and who helped keep Tommy out of danger after his injury. Tidal and I had rarely interacted, as our powers weren't very effective against one another. I've never been entirely sure why, though I have theories. But I digress. Our lack of interaction was what made it easy to approach him. He almost didn't recognize me in civilian clothing, but by then I had already approached, my hands aloft, and offered to speak peacefully. I laid out my plan, and after some questions he agreed to help.
Over the next six months, some of the lesser villains of our city found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, their crimes interrupted by Empyrean's fortuitous arrival. Tommy was never able to actually capture any of them, but watching the videos and speaking with my subordinates, it was obvious that he was taking a great deal of pride in his "accomplishments." It was satisfying, to see my former rival regain some of the respect he had once earned. The "Tommy Report" became less mocking in tone, and he was held up as an example of what even those with disabilities could do.
And, if I am honest (and I feel I must be), I used those incidents as a distraction. They allowed me to have the attention of at least a few of the city's heroes on those encounters, rather than on my own endeavors. I was careful not to let word slip out that these acts were my doing; I did not want to alert Tidal or any of his friends to my scheming.
Nor did I want to see an end to Tommy's superheroics. It made me feel good to be the one behind his renewal of spirit. Tommy was happy. The city was pleased with his feats. The heroes enjoyed helping one of their own. And the villains who participated were given significant leeway should they be caught in the future.
Things were going well. Then, Firebolt came to our city.
It was bad luck, that Tommy happened to be nearby when Firebolt decided to melt his way through a bank vault door to plunder its riches. But he was, and he came to do his duty and protect the city from this new threat. He wasn't wearing his costume; he rarely did now, anyways. But the citizens who had huddled with one another on the lobby floor cheered when he arrived. They knew him, you see. Not just as Empyrean, but as Tommy Trumbull. He was a hero, and he'd come to save them.
There was stunned, shocked silence when Tommy fell just a few moments later. His corpse was gruesome, smoldering and black. It didn't even look human. Firebolt fled, the vault door not entirely breached. I think he knew he had made a mistake, that the heroes of the city would come after him in force. And so he fled to the Underground, where he thought himself safe.
When word reached me, I knew what I would have to do. This was, I told myself, my fault. I had created a false sense of strength and ability in my former foe. I convinced myself that Tommy would have known that Firebolt was out of his league had we not reinforced his belief that he was still a capable, powerful hero. And now, with Tommy gone, my long-term plans would have to change. The heroes who had baby-sat him on his patrols would no longer be so hobbled. The villains who had given their time to make a disabled man feel a sense of accomplishment would no longer have that opportunity.
I gathered those villains to me. Walker, Drumroll, Swiftslip, the Mongoose, Terraria... I brought them together to hunt down Firebolt and end him. For hindering our plans. For bringing the attention of more heroes on our city. For encroaching on our territory. And while we did not say it... for killing Tommy, who we had each come to see as a friend in our own way.
The tunnels beneath the city shook and burned and rippled with power as we fought Firebolt. The civilians above were terrified, though the heroes knew what was happening. Word had spread. Tommy's death would be paid for.
The battle lasted for nearly three hours, and the sun was just rising when Firebolt was delivered to the heroes by Terraria, his limp body bound in slivers of dark, conjured from the abyss. He had killed a hero; they would take him to the Fissure, the extra-dimensional prison for the most violent and dangerous supervillains. He would likely never see Earth again.
I saw many of those heroes in the crowd that stood around Tommy's grave. I could not make out the words of the eulogy, instead opting to think on the times I had battled with Empyrean. I was so focused on my thoughts that I did not know someone had approached until they spoke.
"Eclipse." I whipped my head around. Standing to my left, just a pace away, was Tidal.
"How did you know...?"
He gestured to my hands, and I looked down. Darkstuff was seeping from between my fingers. Only a small bit of it, but enough that it gave me away. I willed it back within me, controlling myself.
"You plan to arrest me?"
He shook his head. "I'm not even sure I could. I know the abyssal powers aren't your only skillset." I smiled at that, turning back to look on the funeral.
He was silent a moment. "It was a good thing you were doing. You couldn't know it would end like this." I grimaced, but did not respond. "Tommy's last few months were filled with some of his proudest moments. And that was because of you. You shouldn't feel guilty."
I let out a sharp note of laughter, loud enough that some of the people at the grave site looked over at us, puzzled or angry.
"I don't feel guilty in the slightest. Tom-- Empyrean was a means to an end. Useful for the time." I looked at Tidal. "But his loss is little more to me than if I had broken a valued tool."
Tidal nodded absently. "If you say so. I just wanted to thank you." He looked at me, more intensely than I was comfortable with. I averted my gaze, looked back at the funeral. "You could do great things if you chose to, Eclipse. And even though he didn't know it, you were Tommy's greatest friend for a time there. I think there's more to you than just the typical villain stuff." He was quiet for a moment again. "Anyways," he said as he slowly began to walk toward the grave, where Tommy was being lowered into the earth, "I just wanted to make sure you knew that what you did was noble."
He did not look back as he spoke, for which I am grateful. I did not want him to see the tears, that I could no longer hold back, rolling down my cheeks.
|
"Oh my god"
...is really all i can say.
Who the hell even is this guy.
This is my turf.
Just for that i oughta feed him his own fingernails.
His invasion wasnt even the worst thing he did. This coward calling himself "the hunter" goes around to small time games (being the back and forth between heroes and villains, as villains we called them games) and he either locks the villain up, stops the hero, gives the police evidence, or just runs interference until the whole thing is over.
That in itself was infuriating, but harmless in the end, theres always another round. No villain ever stays in prison.
Probably should tell you about our... I guess my game now.
In our little town, the hero went by the name The Ranger. Real stereotypical cowboy guy from the silver age. The lines on his face were just about deep enough to qualify as grandpa material, of course he was.
Rick Redford lived inconspicuously on a 7 acre plot on the west side, married my damsel in distress back when i had to let her go for the job being "demeaning" about 30 years back. His kids had their own kids, i came over under the guise of their neighbor for dinner a few times
Rick never caught on to the game god bless his soul, never was a big picture kind of guy. His wife knew, the cops knew, the mayor knew, thank god the press didnt.
We kept each other both employed and entertained over the years, but ultimately he had a decade or two on me and age started winning out.
I ditched my armor for something that wouldnt bust his knuckles, set fewer traps with less fiddly bits, even turned down the frequency so it looked like he was finally winning after all those years.
Then this bastard comes in.
There are rules you probably know about, they're there for everyone's safety, dont touch the family, dont take all the bank's money, dont shoot the press, but most importantly, never, ever, under any circumstances, is it ever a good idea to kill someone.
What this bastard just did,
I still cant believe it.
That was dirty, even by street standards.
You just dont shoot a man in the back.
You dont put his sidekick in a coma to entice him to fight.
And most importantly,
You dont EVER steal a hero.
I never told anyone just how much damage a sentient pile of sand can do, that would make our little game unbelievable, they're about to find out though
|
|
[WP] You're an immortal who will die the hour you fall in love with someone.
|
The room smelled of vanilla. It was sweet and faint but still noticeable. Songs, conversation, and laughter rang from every corner. It didn’t matter. Like I was drunk but I hadn’t touched a drop. Everything a blur. Nothing could keep my attention. Not until my eyes fell upon her. So graceful. Body wrapped in deep blue satin that seemed to flow with her every movement. I was mesmerized. As if her hazel eyes were hypnotizing me with their sheer glee. Even the dark strands of hair that fell messily to her shoulders seemed too perfectly placed.
The chimes of the grandfather clock struck midnight. I didn’t care about the time though. I had to meet this woman. For the first time in my life I truly believe my heart skipped a beat. Then it happened. We locked eyes. She smiled at me. At least I think so. I didn’t know what to do. She waved me over. I nearly tripped over my skirt. It’s been years since I learned to be graceful but with one smile, I was stumbling like a newborn fawn. We talked. We laughed. We danced and I lost track of time. It’s been so long since I felt like this.
She didn’t even need to say a word to get me alone. Just to smile her beautiful smile and to take my hand. I think I would have followed her anywhere. When we kissed I felt something I never felt in my life. To think for a thousand years I never felt this warmth, this pain. It was sharp and dripping down my stomach. As she pulled out the dagger I heard the chime mark one am. She was crying as she fled, but I could only smile. In all my years I never thought I’d find “true love”. As my vision faded death embraced me with the smell of vanilla.
My first time trying a prompt hope it's alright.
|
It’s morning. A sharp ray of sun has shot its way through my tiny window and cut me out of my sleep, as it has many times before. Shedding my bed covers, I step out into my room and admire my handiwork from last night. Everything is as it should be, the records shelved neatly next to the phonograph in the corner, the centerpiece table cleared of yesterday’s board games, the large television well dusted and wiped, and the collection of cans and personal memoirs arranged in the many wooden cabinets along the wall. It’s nothing special, but it’s my world, and I’m proud to keep it orderly.
My days begins as it always has, setting a record in the phonograph then placing a can of food on the table. Today’s morning song features some gentle piano with a harp and viola serving as supporting instruments. “Breakfast” is an empty can of peaches. I’ve long since realized I no longer need to eat, but I am a creature of habit. The music reaches its peak as I watch the sunbeam slowly move along my room and hit my television. I remember when it still used to play shows, but now, its screen just remains blank and gray. One day they started to play only reruns instead of new material, and eventually, I just lost the signal, no matter how much I twisted and turned the antenna. Pity, as I remember struggling immensely to move its bulk into my room. New technology just can’t really be trusted, after all, my phonograph has yet to break.
Sunlight begins to leak from the only other window in my room. It must be noon. I return the can of peaches to the shelf and exchange it for an empty can of corn and beans, its label faded to a pale red and yellow smudge. Today’s noontime activity will be cards. Matching suits has always been a personal favorite, but lining up straights is also entertaining. This deck in particular is of incredible quality. Unlike the cans or books, they didn’t fade with time and use, which is apparently a property of the plastic the cards are made of. These cards were a souvenir those fancy scientists gave to us on that fateful day. At the time, I thought it a fairly small gift for the time it took for them to perform their experiment, but these cards have proven their worth. I’m still quite surprised I even agreed to be a test subject, as I never understood those people in the lab coats. They’re aliens who speak English, yet their words are completely foregin. But they promised me life, eternal life, and in my age, each day could be my last. It wasn’t perfect though, of course it wasn’t. I was warned about the chemicals in my brain; it was something about being extraordinarily excited or happy, something which would revert the effects of the experiment. None of their fancy words made sense to me, but I took their warnings to heart. The others chose to continue their remaining lives as normal. Did they not fear age? Did they not try to prepare as I did?
By now, the sun has dropped, and the room is dimly lit by moonlight. I shuffle the cards away and return the cards and can to their proper spaces. Even in the shadows, I can find my aged brush next to the cabinets, where it always is. After gently dusting everything in the room, I settle next to my bed with an empty can of pork. Just as I have done every night, I flip one of the panels on my flip calendar. It’s nice to have a way to keep track of the time while I’m in here. As of today, it is the first of September, in the year 2018. Even now, I’m quite impressed the creators had the foresight to include a two, even a three, in the thousands slot. Once, I used to write about the events of the day, but my ink supplies have long since dried. Tomorrow will come soon, so I must rest. I know for a fact, one day I will see the day I get to use the three on my calendar.
~
Thank you for reading. Please give feedback if you have any, as I am always looking to improve.
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.