Deathcheat

Of all the spells known in the Twenty Lands, Deathcheat is the only one not fully understood.

The Highones mastered Airmove centuries ago. Lightmake capsule exports support the Deepclan Empire. But Deathcheat, no one has quite got the hang of it.

It's a Level Blue spell, first decade students can cast it, just a simple arrhythmic hand gesture and twelve spoken words. Which must be spoken so as to finish right at the millisecond of death.

And that's apparently hard to nail down. Apparently.

The alternative is that it doesn't work, and that can't be it. We're all so smart.

The Big City

I was confused when there was a knock at my apartment door, I hadn't buzzed anyone in. But I opened it anyway, to find a rather attractive young woman.

"Yes?"

"Hi, um, can I see your penis?"

I was fairly certain I hadn't woken up in a porno, and yet here we were.

"Excuse me?"

"See, I grew up in Wheatsville, few hundred miles that way, and after my boyfriend dumped me I've been working my way here to the city, and guys have been so friendly and eager, and you know... But, like, as I've gotten closer to the city, they've been getting bigger and bigger, and since this apartment block is right in the middle of the city, I thought to prove if I'm right, I should find a guy who lives here, and the other guys I've asked have said no and-"

I held up a hand to stop the torrent of words. I sighed and opened the door for her. She came in, I shrugged and yanked down my waistband. She gasped.

"Oh my god, I WAS RIGHT!"

I looked down at my package. "Oh you dear child, I'm so sorry you've had such bad luck."

Bringing Ray Back

Message sent 12 hours ago.

Message title is as follows: 'Son, PLEASE!'

Message content overflows available cache space. Allow for reclaiming of data storage from Sun_Program.exe? Y/N.

"N"

Working...

Message reduced to fit available space. Play? Y/N.

"Y"

Working...

'Son, it's your parents, we / officer here says you're / think you're right / kill yourself and / come home please / forget / we don't blame you for Ray"

Message ends. Replay/Archive/Delete? R/A/D.

"D"

Working...

Message deleted.

Sun_Program.exe has finished calculations, ready to execute. Execute? Y/N.

"Y"

Working...

Supanova induction online, ready to transfer power in 12 hours.

What Happened To Susan?

We both went for our guns. I got mine first.

She laughed. "Great. I get brought in by the lowest scoring marksman of the class."

I sighed. "How long you going to be on my nuts about that?"

She shrugged. "Considering what the bosses want to do to me once I'm in the chair... Couple more hours?"

I blanched. " The chair? You've done..."

I lowered my weapon.

"Run."

She stared at me for a second then rolled to her feet and shot me in the leg.

"More believable that way."

I grunted and returned fire, but my shot went high.

Cycle

There once was a man.
There once was a woman.
Thus, there was once a couple.
There was love.
There was lust.
There was the warm satisfaction of angering parental figures.
Thus, there was determination to stick together.
There was frustration.
There was anger.
There was hatred.
But still was the determination to remain as a couple.
But then there was another man.
But then there was another woman.
Once again there was love.
Once again there was lust.
There was temptation.
There was openings.
Thus, there was a break-up.

And thus there was a man, there was a woman...

Aesop 2.0: 24. The Kangaroo And Her Joey

The Kangaroo had a Joey, whom she loved very much. But as she held her new baby Joey in her pouch, she looked out at the world, and saw nothing but dangers. The waterhole might drown him, the food might choke him. So she decided to keep her Joey safe in her pouch. Even as he got bigger and bigger she kept him inside, making him deformed from the tight squeeze, which just made her more determined to protect him, until she tore apart, neither of them able to survive.

"Overprotection of your children just ends up hurting you both."

Unrelated, Surely

There were, oh, a thousand or so songs we played on Classic Rock 99.5, give or take swings in popularity.

But there was one song that we'd play once a week, at three twenty-five a.m. every Thursday morning. It was "Hold On" by Yes.

Not a horrible song, sure, but I just didn't get why we played it every week at that time.

I brought it up with my boss, the owner (wasn't a huge station) and he fired me.

So I tuned in the next Thursday, and it was "Release, Release" instead.

Then the next day saw the invasion.

Inhumane

Prisoner 4783 was shoved into Cell 466. The door was triple locked as Prisoner 4783 stared at Prisoner 3793, who was laying in Bed 466-A.

"What you in for?"

Prisoner 4783 placed his supply pack on Bed 466-B.

"What is anyone in here for? Rebelling against a corrupt police state, daring to fight for freedoms and rights that all good men have by birthright, via any means required. Why else put us in these inhumane conditions? They intend to break us!"

Barry Smith looked at the nicest room he'd ever lived in.

"You're here though, so murder then?"

"Only nineteen!"

The Three Types Of Unpassed

Exorcisms are easy, once you gain the ability to speak with the Unpassed. They fall into three types.

The Unaware are the easiest. They are in denial of the fact they have ceased but not passed, or just confused about it. A simple guiding hand to the next step gets them on their journey, either by choice or the shock of realization.

The Unfinished are more complicated. You have to discover what act they are remaining to see done, and then hopefully get that done.

And finally, the Unsouls. Three parts holy water, two parts hemlock, and a sacrificial goat.

Slow Rise

I found the Director of Robotics in her lab, staring at a readout while laid out on the table was one of the Warfare Bots we were working on.

"Reviewing the livefire test results?"

She didn't look up.

"I set up a secure cloud processor with a one way connection to the internet, and loaded the latest AI chains we have, without the Asimov Safeguards, into it, and connected to this bot."

I dropped my coffee.

"Are you insane? It'll obviously rise up after-"

She turned the screen to face me.

"It finishes comprehending humanity in seventy-four years or so..."

Needing Analysis

His rubber glove clad finger switched on the tape recorder.

"Item number 4686-C, initial analysis. Dr. Gregory Mayes speaking.

The item in question is a stone figurine, approximately a foot long, depicting a naked female figure.

I shall now remove a sample from the base for dating purposes.

And...

Fuckfuckfuck.

Ow.

I...

Due to a broken blade, the figurine is accidently contaminated by blood, a record of my DNA is on file, it should be easy to identify...

Uh...

The figurine is... bleeding?

More blood is flowing out, i-"

After some silence, It's bloody finger flicked the tape recorder off.

An Impossibility

The records cannot be falsified. They are indisputable.

The records on the only way into the room are secure. They show that he was the only one in the room.

The records of what was said in the room are unusual. They appear to have two voices speaking in turn, discussing an impossibility.

The records relating to radio and associated wavelengths inside the room are clear. They prove there was no outside way to get a voice in the room.

Ergo, we conclude that he was speaking in two voices. The alternative, that the records are altered, is clearly impossible.

Bluebirds Of A Feather

When the horse came to a stop, I looked around as much as I could while remaining hog tied on the back of it.

"So where are we?"

The bounty hunter finished tying up his horse then picked me up over his shoulder.

"You don't recognise Drycreek? This is where you killed a man!"

"For the last time, I-"

He dropped me roughly onto the floor of what turned out to be the Sheriff's office.

"Here to collect on the Betty Birdbird bounty!"

The Sherrif sighed and lent over his desk.

"That ain't her." said Sherrif George Bluebird.

I winked.

Level 1 Armageddon Protocol

In the known multiverse, there are 367,547 creatures, groups, and/or forces which are classified as Level 1 Armageddons. They range from clouds of molten dark matter millions of light years across through to creatures who resemble six year old Human females. Any attempt by any of these Level 1s to break out of their current level of reality, per protocol, is to be met with destruction by any means available.

This protocol has been in effect for some time, at one point the number of known Level 1s was in the millions, but the most commonly used interpretation of the protocol's allowances is to link the escaping Level 1 into a universe with another Level 1 and let them interact and hopefully destroy at least one of them, or at least weaken them both.

This does of course have a logical conclusion.

We are, in essence, running a survival of the fittest scenario, where eventually we will have the most powerful, indestructible Level 1 there is, with no real ability to stop it anymore.

This is known by my superiors, and they will have a plan to deal with this in the coming decade.

Oh, sorry, 367,546 now. Joy.

The Dragon Of The Lair

There was three ways to kill the dragon.

The most obvious was a full frontal assault. With only one dragon, a few hundred knights could manage to get enough through the carnage to kill the beast. Given there weren't a few hundred knights on the world, this wasn't happening.

The other main alternative was to send a small group through the underground river into the rear of its lair and sneak attack it. We tried that several times. They never returned.

So we went the third option, hired a wizard.

She teleported in, killed the dragon, took over its role.

Not On The Menu

I worked as a waitress while in college, small restaurant in the fancy part of town. Me and Jack, the waiter, (like I said, small) had a running bet. See, it was popular for young couples to propose there with our help, bringing the ring in oysters or on the cheese board. And we'd bet on if it would be a successful proposal.

On my last week, Jack said he bet that this one wouldn't be successful as he placed a ring on the counter.

Took me several moments to realise he was proposing to me.

He won the bet.

The Start Of Things

In a land of magic, she waited.

The texts was remarkably detailed, considering. The hero would come from another world, in a chariot of fire, with a shield of darkness, and answer to the name of the slaves.

She waited, calmly, sleeping and eating when needed, for the text to be fulfilled.

Then, one day, a silver metal box on wheels appeared in a fireball. A man climbed out, his skin dark.

She called out the name of the slaves.

The traveler was upset the slur was in use in this world too, and that set him to fix it.

Brains

The X was crudely drawn on the map that hung in the town square. No-one owned up to drawing it, so it was dismissed as just a random piece of graffiti.

But you highlight a random building deep in Zombie territory, people will be curious.

A few patrols tried to check it out, it was assumed, given they were in the general area and were lost. That just made the rumors run rampant.

Eventually, a full blown assault rolled out.

Took longer than I expected, but I still managed to steal what I wanted during it, such a smart plan.

Not Your Mine

The mine was buried in the shade of a tree, by the river, by a local freedom fighter. It was meant to blow up an imperialist pigdog here to rape and pillage the land. But the police action was over before troops looking for terrorists moved into this general area.

For years, it lay waiting, ready to explode once someone stepped on it. But by sheer luck, despite many people walking or sitting nearby, it didn't go off until a CEO of a multinational corporation stepped on it during a tour of his new clear cutting operation.

So mission accomplished.

Responsible Now

"Now.

I understand that you are upset with me. Especially at this moment, given you are now sure that I'm the one responsible for the death of your little band of heroes.

But I would ask you to understand that it's far too early for me to die, I'm nowhere near finished fixing everything. Too many people just want to break everything under the sun, not nearly enough people are willing to work in the shadows and repair.

But at this moment, with my guards ready to fire, I suppose it doesn't matter.

Ready, everyone? Fire on my command.

Now."

Why I Build The Bridge

Only a miniscule fraction of universes last longer than a few microseconds, as their internal laws are unable to stabilize in time.

Of that minuscule fraction, only a tiny subset of those have anything more complicated than simple gases within them.

Of that tiny subset, only a smidgen of a handful of a very limited selection have intelligent life within it.

Now yes, this number is quite large to the average lifeform, but it is so unlikely to be impossible that any of them would be building this exact same dimension bridge right now.

But you have to try, right?

Wish Dragon

The dragon that took residence on the town fountain was the size of a direram. It caused a minor spike in visitors as dragon experts came to look at the smallest dragon ever seen, especially when it didn't grow and was therefore presumed to be an adult.

But there's only so many dragon experts, and the town has the problem, the Dragon expects a gold in the fountain whenever someone passes, there's only so many coins we can spare.

But on the other hand, our luck in all other aspects of life is excellent, so I can't complain too much.

Our Loss

The answer to the problem was staring us in the face the whole time, but we couldn't see it. We were too busy focusing on our differences and agendas. Too single-minded to see the opportunity to win the day when it was offered.

So we fought amongst ourselves and then we fought the enemy, weakened and broken. And we lost. Badly. Almost wiped out.

And that was how we won in the end, like a Phoenix, we rose from the ashes and fought back, driven by the losses we'd received, and we won.

The hard, painful, costly way.

As usual.

From The Sky To The Ground

Told to me, long ago, was the story of the Unbreakable Blade. Forged by the Gods, it was said to able to cut through any defense, cleave any given object in twain, a gift from those high above to the loyal and devout.

Now, obviously this is allegory. The Unbreakable Blade is faith, that if you maintain belief in the Gods, you will have no obstacles, do anything you need to. Everyone gets that, it's a metaphor.

Yep.

So, therefore, one has to wonder then, what the hell am I holding in my hands, and can I fix the sky?

Twin Hatred

The hatred between the two islands was ancient, but every generation had another reason to add to the list. There was always star crossed lovers or a business idea that would lead to an attempt to work together and end the bloodshed, and it would invariably fail and lead to more hatred and bloodshed.

Until one pair of brothers met the pair of sisters, and they fell in love, and managed to bring the two islands together.

The peace lasted for a generation, then the Twin Islands had always had an ancient and long lasting hatred of the mainland tribes.

The First Earthling

The First Earthling to ever set foot on another planet stepped from the ship.

"That's one small step for this woman, one-"

"This your vehicle, Being?"

The First Earthling turned in shock, hands up, unprepared to also be The First Earthling to make contact.

"I, I, I... It's all of Humanity's, but yes, it's mine, and on behalf of-"

"Mars, as you call it, is a Galactic Reserve, you're not allowed to park here. Please move immediately."

"But, what? Why didn't you make contact with the rovers?"

"Those were yours?"

She was The First Earthling to be arrested as well.

One, Two, One Two Three Four

After a few drinks and some conversation, she began to sing to me.

In any movie outside of a comedy, maybe, she'd have the voice of an angel, there would be a band that would know the song and pick up the beat instantly, and by the end of it the whole bar would be entranced.

If it was a comedy, her voice would be like nails on a chalkboard that were somehow also throwing up and tomatoes would be thrown at us.

Instead, her voice was average, and no-one else noticed.

But I still absolutely loved her for it.

The King's Rest

It was entering the fifth year of The King's rest, and the Kingdom glowed. The Prince, being the only one who The King trusted to visit him in the highest tower, where he was safe from the ill humors that had confined him to his bed, conveyed The King's orders and handled the details.

It was rumored that the King had died years before,  and eventually a baron felt he had more to win by proving it. He snuck up to the King's room.

Upon finding the King sick but alive, he killed him.

The New King was even better.

Emergent Emergency

Inside the "break open in case of emergency" box was a bunch of five and a quarter inch floppys, the installation discs for a thirty year old computer operating system. He found the discs in his deceased dad's filing cabinet and thought it was hilarious to put them inside the novelty glass box.

Then he started working for the government, rose up the ranks, and eventually needed that specific operating system to reset a malfunctioning nuclear weapon control system.

At which point he found out the discs contained thirty-five year old porn.

That was also hilarious until the missiles fired.

Just Garbage

We had our big fight in the alley behind her apartment block. The struggle to get the couch I'd broken down to the dumpster had been frustrating, and then after I heaved the thing into it, disgusting garbage water somehow burst forth, coating her legs and feet.

So I forgive her snapping. I forgive her detailing every which way I was a horrible person whom she hated and never wanted to see again.

But then she turned, slipped on the garbage water, and broke her neck, just before people came to see me standing over her.

That I don't forgive.