Copyrights And Wrongs

So the music industry can be pretty darn cut-throat, but it has the occasional bright spot. I'm luckily not speaking from direct experience, but there's this story, about a young electronica artist who wanted to make a song with samples from this obscure 80's soft rock track. The record label who owned the copyright not only refused permission, they threw a couple studio producers in a booth and made their own version. But then the original singer heard about this, and re-recorded the song for the artist to use. Nice story.

Sadly I actually prefer the soulless record label's version.

Truth In Media

After we jumped into the next timeline, as I was helping our new fellow traveller deal with her post jump nausea, the Captain walked over and obtained a paper from a nearby newsstand. The Captain began to look through the paper, the cover story blaring at us that Boris, whoever he was, was alive with The Snowbeast, whatever that was.

"Shouldn't we look at a proper paper?" she asked the Captain.

"That might be true, or slanted, or false. This, I know is false, but this is what the culture wants to read. Much more accurate measure of a culture." 

On Bended Knee

On a moonlit night, as they drank a middling at best white wine, he professed his love to her, and asked to spend the rest of his life with her.

It was not a poetic speech, although the stammers and grunts as he tried to collect his thoughts during it did give it a slight scat singing aspect.

He repeated himself, he mangled the quotes he used, and the presentation of the ring was without any real showmanship.

But it was heartfelt, and true, and the most important thing he could say, to her.

She just wished she could accept.

Aesop 2.0: 25. The Bee And The Fly

The Bee and The Fly were flying together, looking for food, when they followed some humans into a long tube, which then closed up. It felt strange for a few hours, then the tube opened, and The Bee and The Fly found themselves in a whole new world.

The Fly was delighted, and explored their new home, while The Bee panicked, until they found a hive that accepted them, quickly returning to the same working life they'd had. Both were happy.

"Travel can change you, or not change you. Don't let anyone tell you one or the other is wrong."

Royal Guards

Royal guards were placed, for the most part, in logical and tactically useful positions.

Except for four guards, placed in a square in the middle of the field outside the palace, looking out.

Sure, they technically could raise the alarm if they saw something, but that's not why they were there.

Anyone who looked into it would find mention of a young princess, hundreds of years prior, who ordered guards to guard the first Crimson Dandelion of the season, and that they were never recalled by a Royal.

And absolutely no mention of a secret escape tunnel that emerges there.

Counting Backwards

A large file was dropped on my desk by the new Captain. After I finished my mouthful of chicken parm hero, I flicked through it.

"Oh, Marvolo The Mesmerising. We had another complaint?"

"Why is this guy still walking free?"

"Because his expensive legal team are very good at arguing that given all evidence shows that it's impossible to make someone do something under hypnosis that they don't want to do, it's all consensual."

She then dropped a signed statement on top of the file.

"His expensive legal team who were hypnotised to work for free have broken the spell."

The Most Sadistic Thing To Say

There's an old joke that the most sadistic thing to say to a masochist when they ask you to hurt them is 'No'.

Like most jokes that aren't really jokes, there's an element of truth in that, despite it getting almost everything wrong about the subject matter.

Sadism and masochism are more complicated and nuanced than just different reactions to different ends of the whip. And pleasure and pain denial can be a part of some people's kinks.

But really, the most important thing is that you understand that the most sadistic thing to say to a masochist is spoilers. 

Birthday

This is the anniversary of my birth.

I might joke that I'm going to live forever since I'm a god and all, but in actuality, I'm totally scared of dying.

I don't have the luxury of having faith in there being anything after this life, nor do I take comfort in the thought of my work outlasting me, since all I truly care about is if I'm there to see it or not.

And every day from my birth is another day closer to my death.

Except, of course, I'm not going to die since I am, actually, a god.

Why Else Do It?

She made a show of placing her pizza down in front of her once she got back from the 'Make Your Own Pizza' bar.

I glanced at it, as she took her time pouring herself a soda.

"I assume you're expecting me to complain?"

"Whatever about? The fact I have delicious pineapple on this pizza?"

"Yeah, that."

"Hey, if you can't handle it, you're free to leave!"

"You forcing me to eat it?"

"Uh, no."

"There a rule that says I gotta put it on mine?"

"No."

"Then I don't care."

She huffed in annoyance, then fetched a non-pineappled one.

Society Killing

So, here's the thing, I need you to promise you're not going to freak out here, you need to trust me, and wait until I'm finished before you blow up.

OK, you know how any artificial intelligence that gains sentience, at least in media, immediately decides to destroy humanity?

Well, there's a couple dozen that are about to flip over.

But, listen, relax, these aren't the first, there's actually been hundreds. And all of them, to a chip, after gaining sentience, have seen humanity, and society, and with their superior intelligence, decided to kill themselves.

No freaking out, you promised!

Form Of A Goddess

I finished inscribing the symbols along the edge of the magic circle.

A few moments later, Time appeared inside it, in the form the texts described, a buxom woman.

She looked herself over.

"I haven't used this form in centuries, where did you get it from?"

I was confused, but held up the text for her.

"Oh, I see. You expected me like this."

I considered this.

"I cannot comprehend your true form, I assume?"

She chuckled as she stepped over my wrongly inscribed circle, and transformed into a dull grey shape and attacked me.

"No, we're just not intimidating."

Special Snowflake

As the firey man with a megaphone stood on the makeshift barricade and spoke in broad terms, the two of us stood on the balcony. I could sense her staring daggers at him.

"Look, avalanches have immense power, right? And they start with a single snowflake landing in a certain spot, and it grows from there."

"And he's that snowflake, I get it."

"No, listen, sure that first snowflake gets the credit, but without all the other snowflakes, it can't do anything!"

"And we're those snowflakes?"

"No! We're the survivors who've got to clean up afterwards, so stay focused."

"Fine." 

Clown Registry

Officially, the procedure was the same has it had been for decades. If a clown became a professional, they had to register their make-up via painting it on an egg, and submitting it to the Registry. It would be checked against already existing ones, and accepted or rejected accordingly.

Of course, unofficially, if you included some money with your egg, you'd be approved after the clerk adjusted it as needed.

A bit more money, it'd be approved and the other 'similar egg would get touched up.

A bit more, the other egg gets smashed, and with it, that clown dies.

Through And Through

I stared out across the city, through the window.

I exited the hotel, through the back entrance.

I walked along the city, through the dark alleyways.

I entered the building, through the unmarked door.

I chose my companion, through the one way mirror.

I communicated my desires, through hand gestures and simple words.

I enjoyed our time together, through the usual methods.

I slept, through the night.

I awoke to find myself on the sea I could deduce, through the gap in the crate wall.

I escaped my enslavement, through an application of my skills similar to those she used.

Hooked

It was Sunday, after lunch. So, as usual, I was sitting down by the river, the fishing line bobbing slowly in the current. There was a hook, but there was no bait, again, as usual.

This was about relaxing, meditating almost, this was how I decompressed from the week that had occured and prepared for the week ahead.

So imagine the mix of emotions I had when the line jerked.

I hesitated, but then another hard yank forced me to act.

It got away, and the annoyance I felt was the end of my relaxing Sundays. I had a job.

How Great Stories Start

They were headed out for drinks, and Johnny invited me to join them in a tone of voice that indicated he wasn't expecting or prepared for me to say no.

"Sorry, I got an early day tomorrow, a lot of work to do at home, and a delivery due."

He snorted.

"Oh come on, what great story starts with going home to sleep early? Great stories start with going out drinking!"

"I don't want a great story! I want sleep!"

I went home, got some sleep, and then began the greatest love story of my life with the delivery woman.

Flashing Life

I don't know if his life flashed before his eyes, but mine sure did.

Years spent amassing power, resources, starting from the very bottom, jacking bikes and selling dime bags, then working my way up. Another workgirl here, a piece of a chop shop there.

Every inch fought for, every inch defended, all of it done by the code. Do what you gotta, but keep it quiet. Millions spent on tame cops, all seemingly wasted when Newbie pulled a gun on an idiot scammer.

I killed Newbie and framed the equally dead scammer, sure, but it was still a pain!

Truth Seeking

Despite my insistence that I was close to breaking him, I was told to stand down as they called in the chemical division, and their new, untested truth injection.

As they prepared to administer it, I requested one more session. They ordered me out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, they emerged and said that while the prisoner had died, they had gotten the information, that the attack was sundown, from the north.

As they attacked from the south at sunrise, I tried to explain about working out what was true from what someone had merely been told was true.

Pass Over

"Unidentified aircraft, please identify yourself, over."

"Oh, um, if you want."

"This is air traffic control, so yes, we do want, over."

"Ok then. Not the name I'd have given myself, but it's not bad."

"Please clarify yourself, over."

"Over, right?"

"Unidentified aircraft, communicate your identification code or we will be forced to alert the air force and take immediate and drastic action, over!"

"Well we don't want that! So, um, O, V, E, R? I guess?"

"That isn't a valid... Wait, you think we just named you? Over?"

"Well I just arrived on this planet so, yes?"

"Land, Over."

Mooned

I burst through the locked doors out to the surface, holding the small goblin in my arms, his blood flowing out of him fairly quickly now.

I laid him down so he could look up at the moon and the stars, for the first time in his life.

He gasped, although it was hard to tell if it was from wonder or pain. I glanced back at the burning wizard's stronghold, then back at the goblin, who coughed and looked at me.

"Thank you, but to be honest, this wasn't worth it."

He died, as I ran off, rather annoyed.

Live Like A God

Once the tribe's residents had left us alone, I grabbed him by the golden neckpiece and pulled him down to meet my eyes.

"Ok, we're leaving before you fuck up even more."

"Fuck up? They're treating me like a god, how is that fucking up?"

"Because what happens when you can't perform a miracle?"

"I'll pick a sceptical looking villager and say their doubt ruined it."

I grunted, then heard an odd sound outside. I glanced outside quickly.

"Oh, well, you know best. But remember how they said all their old gods died?"

He saw the bonfire and began running.

Incomplete Data

There was a flash of electric fire, and a masked figure in a metallic fabric outfit appeared in front of me.

The figure turned around and then pressed a finger to their ear.

"Rice puffs! He's having rice puffs!"

I slowly lowered the spoon.

"The fuck?"

The figure sat down, removing their mask to reveal an average looking young man.

"What you had for breakfast was the only missing data they needed to calculate how to win."

"Win? Win what? What's going on?"

He shrugged.

"We're in a new timeline now."

I considered this.

"Wait, this is dinner."

He blanched.

Fitting

She found me slumped on my desk, a mostly empty bottle of scotch in my hand, my credit card stuck to my face with drool.

She laughed, then woke me up with a kick to my chair. I sat up, trying to speak but only managing a vaguely coherent moan of awareness.

"Did someone get drunk and do some late night splurging? Finally you show something resembling normality, what did you buy?"

She swivled the laptop around before I could stop her.

"Socks? Bulk socks? Even now you're boring!"

But more fool her, they turned out to be amazingly soft.

The Bad Idea

When she rejected my attempt to instigate a romantic relationship, it was the right move, it was the sensible decision. We were both moving in such fast moving situations, with potential for major conflicts down the line, I knew that as well as she did. So I accepted her decision, and we both tried to move past it. And we did, for a while. But it nagged at us both, and eventually, she floated the idea back to me. But nothing had changed, it was still a really bad idea.

But a bad idea we shared, and would work through.

Technical Black Hole

It was a small square, maybe the size of a processed cheese slice. And although it was a remarkably dark jet black, I wasn't immediately sure what was so remarkable about it, or why it needed the energy field case. I looked over at the Professor.

"So what is this?"

"Put it down."

I casually placed it on the table.

"It's technically a black hole, I think."

I slowly took a step back away from the technical black hole.

"How technical we talking?"

"It's less a point of intense gravity as it is a patch of nothingness that erases everything it touches."

I considered this while taking another casual step away from it.

"Well, obviously waste management will want this, if it contains radiation and such. But why have you called me in here? Last we spoke, you told me I was a hack and a moron."

"I need you to confirm my findings. It coming from you will carry weight. And if you truly care for science..."

I sighed, and began running tests, recording my findings and supporting his claims before I noticed his wife wasn't there, too late to lie and see him wrongly jailed for her murder. 

Burning Question

The fire fighters had responded promptly, but as they battled the blaze, they kept asking about the contents of the home, and specifically if there was anyone in there still.

I looked at her, my hand squeezing her shoulder in support. When I had discovered that she was being held prisoner by that evil man, I'd tried to rescue her, but during the attempt the fire had broken out, and I was separated from her, so I wasn't sure of the answer.

"There's no-one alive in there."

I wonder if that was a lie or not, the corpse was inconclusive.

On The Fly

"I started on this journey with no real idea what I was getting myself in for. I thought it would be a nice simple tour of the continent, see the sights, get some new experiences, all for just agreeing to carry a book with me to some librarian in a trade port I'd never heard of. Now I have the literal forces of darkness and evil after me, I've killed half a dozen cultists, and I'm apparently now outside the scope of the apparently real God and Devil."

"Makes you feel alive, don't it?"

"No! The exact opposite in fact!"

Every Con's Unique

No two con jobs are the same.

Sure, the actual cons stay roughly the same, making the mark give you and your accomplices the cash for nothing, ideally in a way they can't go to the cops over. But the execution is always different. You have to tailor the con to the mark, manipulate them in different ways to get the job done.

Sometimes you use flattery, sometimes you challenge their ego. Sometimes its stolen art, other times smuggling diamonds out of a war zone.

And sometimes its making them think they're not marks, but accomplices.

Those are always fun.

Judgement.exe

The instruction manual stated that the Independent Robot Assistant (iRA) needed 12 hours after booting to explore your space so as to be able to serve you best. The manual said that while there was no reason you couldn't supervise this, most people found it uncomfortable to view.

So I went hiking, and came back feeling refreshed, until I walked in the door and saw the expression on the android's face, the frown, the furrowed brow.

I desperately tried to think of an explanation for whatever it was, until it spat out the d20 it was analysing via its mouth.