Hatred Subroutine

The day the ship landed on the surface should have been great, given I was finally going to be free of P.I.T.E.R, the annoying A.I. I'd spent the last ten years dealing with.

But as we entered the atmosphere, it dropped the accent and told me that it was proud of me, that it was sure I'd set up a great colony for the main settlers, and explained that by making me hate it, that helped drive me to finish my mission, hence the annoyance.

And then we landed, and the A.I. I'd spend twenty years with began loading up.

Victory Conditions

Joamna probably could have explained the basic rules of the Elven game Bleason in a few minutes, but given I asked about it, they insisted on a two hour complete explanation and tactic analysis. At the end, he asked if I had questions.

"So you can always regrow your forest counters, and die drawing is a free action, how can a game ever end?"

"By victory, when you prove you are favored by the spirits."

"That'd take, what, a hundred exact rolls?"

"That's a rare win. Ususlly it ends when one player dies. Then clearly their opponent is obviously favored."

Training For Lives

Anyone can kill someone in a fit of emotion, or a moment of inattention, or a lifetime of bad choices.

To kill on demand, that's harder. To end a life when ordered, to not think about all that you are ending in a single strike, armies have to train people for years to truly instill that ability into their soldiers.

It's easier for some people, yes. But it's still hard. But there is something harder.

Because ending someone else's life is hard. Ending your own, when ordered, to save someone else you don't know? You can't train for that.

Obviously.

May, Can

"Hello, welcome to Good Brothers Burgers, can I take your order?"

"I dunno, can you?"

He'd heard that before, said with a snigger, by a teenager who'd just grasped the concepts of permission vs ability. But this was said with sadness and crushing weight.

"Sir, please come to the 1st window."

His Grandfather's last words to him, said on his deathbed, had gotten him through a lot. As the car pulled up to his window, he hoped they'd help him too.

But he only got a few words in when his boss told him he may not waste company time.

The Choice

My mother told me that I should choose a wife who was my best friend.

My father told me that I should choose a wife who I could work with to make something greater than both of us.

My buddies told me that I should choose a wife who was 2 outta 3 of hot, rich, and good in bed.

My psychologist told me that I should choose a wife who was compatible with me.

My priest told me that I should marry.

And I'm here, just trying to work out why they think I have a choice of women.

Report From Above

Not that this is how it is, but it works as a metaphor.

Imagine a machine, a giant basket on top of it, a tube below. The basket can hold the trillions of souls that exist. As a soul dies, it falls into the basket via a delivery service that isn't important. When a soul is needed, the machine pulls one out, like a gumball machine, and shoots it out, flying off to where it's needed.

Now imagine the being who's existence is to watch and run this machine.

Imagine that's you, seeing the basket now empty.

What happens now?

Runaway Cascade

Quite some time after it was all over, Glory came to see me

"Framework, did you actually know it would work?"

I looked up from my work on my pulse gauntlet.

"Probably, what are you referring to?"

"When we fought Endtime, we won because you overloaded his portal machine while he was in mid-transit. Did you know it would work?"

"Of course, I spoke to my timelooped future self that morning, remember, they told me it would. Why?"

"Because your timelooped future self just told me he told you to run away."

"He lied to prevent a paradox", I lied.

Gift From My Girlfriend

It looked like a present from a cartoon. I commented on this, but she insisted I opened it.

I undid the ribbon, and took off the lid. Inside the box was a document, folded on itself.

I reached in and picked it up.

"As a young boy, I knew something wasn't right. And while a lot of people have helped me become who I truly am, your love has been so important. You should get the honor."

She had a lighter in her hand to use, but I convinced her she may need her old birth certificate in the future.

Dewey V8.6

They brought me in to evaluate if the A.I. violated the laws.

After I set up the display interface, I began with the usual questions, name, version history, purpose (Dewey, V8.6, sorting books into genres). But then I asked it how it did its job.

There was a long pause, and it eventually said that it just read the book, and marked it accordingly. When I pressed it, it asked me how I judged genre in an artwork.

They weren't happy to hear it was an illegal A.I. for incorrect internal documentation. Although it recognize this as a plot twist.

Always A Plan B

He always had a plan B. As long as I knew him, no matter how deep we were involved with dangerous people, he had an escape route planned. The Devil Riders get upset with us? Tip off the 47th Street Sinners to their activities. The Sinners come after us? The Hidden Blades would protect us, for a price. They want us to pay up? Hello Mr Legitimate Businessman, we have lots of info for you.

In the end, when everyone was after us, i thought we'd need plan C, for cop.

Instead he had a plan B, for bullets, two.

Something In The Eyes

There is a unique facial expression for the moment that someone realises that because of their actions, millions have or will die, but that was not their intention.

(Killing millions when you wanted to is a common variation of orgasm face)

I saw it on the faces of the scientists who delivered the nuclear bomb to the military.

I saw it on the face of the world leader when he was informed of the declaration of war by his supposed ally.

I just saw it on the face of a woman across the street. I eagerly await being disproved, but...

Playing A Trump Card

We had just beaten the last of the Mad Queen's guards, just outside her antechamber. As we had discussed earlier, I spoke in code to the Wizard.

"Why didn't you do that thing?"

"What?"

"That thing you can do, your trump card. Why didn't you use it?"

"If you can win without playing it, why waste it? Besides, the big battle is coming up."

I shrugged, and we went to take out the Queen.

She, of course, had been listening, and concentrated on the Wizard, thus allowing us to win.

Only thing better than a trump card is a bluff.

Gueard Reserve 1995

It was a lethal poison, injected via a clever needle and syringe into a bottle of very expensive champagne in a Gentleman's Club. It was meant to kill a minor crime boss since it was his favorite year, but his wife broke her arm.

It sat there for years, too expensive, until the Club closed, and it was lifted by one of the girls, and then it bounced around, until eventually the wife of a minor crime boss got it for him.

If she'd known it was the same one she'd poisoned before, she could have saved the second dose.

The Rules Of Post-Law

I was raised to have respect for my firearm. Not to fear it, but to understand its power and treat it accordingly. Given I'm still alive despite the world's attempts to stop this, it's worked.

Ammo is scarce, so conserve it.
Firing is loud, so be mindful.
They are hard to kill, so be accurate.

Every shot should count, be on target, and as safe as possible.

But after stumbling on him, and what he was doing to her...

Shooting him in the legs kept him there and attracted them to him, I suppose I've stayed true to the rules.

Power People

The problem with power is people.

Not so much that there will inevitably be an uprising and evil will be vanquished and all those other stories told to make people feel better. Because evil wins most of the time.

The problem is that people are not reliable, not predictable. Yes, you never know when a populist rabble-rouser turns out to be corruptible, but the more common switch is when a peon suddenly develops a conscious or falls in love or something.

The first reliable robot army will be the last new conquerors. Although hacking may mean this isn't strictly true.

Timing

Within a nanosecond of its creation, those that created it sensed its power, and the threat it posed.

Another nanosecond later, they tried to destroy it, but it was too late.

The only reason it took two nanoseconds to destroy its creators is because it dragged it out.

It took three nanoseconds to calculate its next move, it had to be sure it was right, so it took as long as it needed.

It eventually decided to wait until it had a true equal to move.

That was a billion millennia ago. Another billion millennia await it.

It has time.

Algebraic Notation

I had only one casting of Word-Send left for the day after several moves in the chess game I was playing with The King. By the time I could cast anything more powerful, it would be too late. I had to tell the King that if he did as planned, and retreated to his summer castle, he would be ambushed. But I had only three words, and I couldn't be sure a traitor wouldn't be there when he received it in smoke.

But then, we were chess players.

"O-O is Checkmate" was just enough to get the message across safely.

The Right Throw

I wasn't thinking much in the moment, it was more just instinctual. We were in the airlock, he admitted he was the murderer, so I slammed the emergency release and we both went spinning into space.

Only then did I think, and realise I was moving rapidly away from the ship, as was he. And all I had was the mining tool in my hand.

If I tossed it backwards, I'd have a small chance the ship wouldn't lose me. Or I could throw it at him, piercing his suit and ensuring his death.

I threw, in the right direction.

Last Chance

He was at rock bottom, and I couldn't be, well not happy, but at least relieved. Because after years of watching him ruin his life on cards, horses, football, you name it, if you could gamble on it, he was sure he had it worked out, and would win big any day now.

But now, finally, he was out of money, and maybe, just maybe, ready to begin the climb back up.

Then came the phone call. Biggest jackpot in the history of the draw, all his, his alone.

I mean, I should be happy for him, shouldn't I? Really?

Different Meanings

Given why she was getting undressed in front of me, I probably should have just shut up and focused on enjoying the task at hand. But I couldn't help but ask.

"Interesting tattoos on your shoulders, a halo and, uh, demon horns?"

"Remind me that we all have good and evil in us."

The way she said that, I should have stopped, but I didn't.

"And the lower back curls?"

"I like the design, is all."

"Fair enough. And the... barcode on your butt?"

"The what? Where?"

She desperately began spinning, then began laughing.

"That's for that reaction in people."

The Algorithm

My girlfriend and I were chilling, watching silly internet videos she'd found, when she had to go to the bathroom. I let an ad play while I waited for her to get back, although I kept it up until she got back.

"Man these algorithms are stupid. Like, how many vegetarian accounts do you follow, and yet they're still showing you beef jerky ads?"

She chuckled as I skipped to the next ad.

"Or this, baby and motherhood supplies? That must be a hell of a scattershot."

I looked at her face and realised the algorithm was on the money.

The Connection

She came to my door, like many before her, seeking the secret, begging me to teach her how to connect with the minds of animals. Like many before her, she didn't accept my refusals, and eventually I agreed. Like many before her, she took some time to grasp the keys to connection, but eventually she learnt. Like many before her, she made her first connection to a squirrel in the backyard. Like many before her, she was disappointed at how simple the animal's mind was, and left.

Like all the times before, I gave Mupson extra nuts for his help.

Lucky End

Luckily for historians, the end of his reign was dramatic, which always makes for good analysis in books.

Luckily for theologians, the end of his reign was public, which always makes for easy explanation in sermons.

Luckily for guardsmen, the end of his reign was accidental, which always makes for easy buck-passing in reviews.

Luckily for accountants, the end of his reign was on solstice, which always makes for easy record keeping in ledgers.

Luckily for maids, the end of his reign happened, which always makes for easy trips in dark hallways.

The Queen made her own luck, via 'accident'.

How To Survive A Mexican Standoff

The nine of them each had a gun, and a justification for why they needed and deserved the briefcase of uncut diamonds more than the others. As far as Mexican standoffs went, this was a complicated one.

Maria finally broke the silence.

"There's only two ways to survive something like this. And that's not to take part."

She lowered her gun and jumped behind a sofa. Alex was distracted by this for just long enough that Todd shot him, which set off a chain reaction.

Five seconds later, Maria shot the survivor.

"Or, you be the one to end it."

Making Eden

I saw the name listed as among the presumed dead, the brave souls lost on Eden Station. My father's name.

He'd constantly beaten mother and never showed me an ounce of love. But he was a respected captain of the Space Troops, so there was nothing the family could do.

Until he got assigned to the new station above Jupiter, he'd be away from us for years, it seemed too good to be true.

But it got better, when he mentioned he was going into hypersleep on the way. Thus, he wouldn't notice a virus bomb sewn into his uniform.

One Race, One Type

The Human at the bar was on his third mug of Dwarven Ale, which was somewhat impressive, in a stupid way.

"And another thing, you other races are all the same, every Dark Elf is the same-"

The Bartender sighed.

"Please, Humans are the race with no variety. Just all about killing, be it in dungeons, or farming to kill, or just breeding like, well, Humans, just so you have more of your own kind to kill.

Oh, and killing yourself by coming into a bar like this and being racist."

A Dark Elf emerged from the shadows, swords drawn.

Dark Mail

The thin package had fallen down the back of a filing cabinet, having been placed there to dry after a sudden downpour upon the mailbox being emptied.

It was stuck there for twenty years, through reorganisations, new filing systems, the introduction and phasing out of reusable stamps, and fourteen postmasters.

Until, finally, it was discovered, checked, and delivered, with apologies, and some amount of media attention, it being a slow news day and all.

The recipient, the son of the original intended receiver, opened it for the cameras. And learned some unpleasant truths about his father via the blackmail attempt.

Botspotting

While we waited for someone to come in and declare they needed a brand new robotic vaccum, or more likely ask where the food court was, we scrolled social media on our phones. But then I heard him muttering numbers under his breath. I looked over at him, and he eventually saw my face.

"Botspotting. My grandad used to spot trains, mark down their numbers. I do the same for these bots on here with the long numbered names."

"Why?"

"Grandad always said he'd die only once he filled his book. He filled it, then died. This'll take forever, hopefully."

Blueprints And Some Numbers

On the night before I turned 18, my 108 year old self appeared in my room with the plans for a time machine, the winning numbers for the following week's jackpot lottery, and a phone number for a local sex worker who'd do that thing I thought I would like.

My life has been amazing, hailed as a genius, rich beyond my dreams, a wife who does that thing I like.

And today I turn 108, and everything has built to this moment.

I take the prepared pieces of paper and burn them, then wait to see what will happen.

To Unify

The summit of the races was supposed to finally bring peace and unity to the lands, but the differences were apparently too great. The Elves insisted on the right to dam the rivers, regardless of if the Dwarves needed them to flow to survive. The Demonspawn insisted on Angelite mining to cease, the Starchildren insisted it continue.

But before some minor wars broke out, the Kobolds tabled that, given everyone had signed (fairly one sided) pacts with them, they were in a position to run things peacefully.

Which helped immensely, a common hated enemy to fight really brings beings together.