My sister asked to chat, and we found a coffee shop to sit in.
I asked her what was wrong, and she poured her heart out to me. She went over all her previous relationships and how they all ended in pain. I knew this, and knew she was the real cause.
I didn't tell her this as she went on to reveal that she'd met someone, but she was hesitant to pursue him.
I asked who, and she showed me a photo of the guy I hated more than anyone.
I heartily encouraged her.
It went badly.
For me.
The gunslinger came into town, and walked into the saloon, taking a seat at the bar.
The bartender walked over, cleaning a glass.
"What can I get ya?"
"A glass of whisky, and directions to Red Dawn McGree."
The saloon fell silent as the bartender poured out a whisky, and one of the locals approached him.
"Why you after him, stranger?"
The gunslinger knocked back the whisky.
"He killed my brother."
The local sighed.
"And you want revenge?"
"You're damn right."
"Well, see, Red Dawn is, well, a fantasy we created."
The poison in the whisky kicked in pretty quickly.
I coughed up some gunk and spat it over the edge of balcony into the sea.
At least, that was the intention, but there was a boat down there, and after I'd let it go, I saw it fly down and land on the book in the hands of the man in the small boat.
He looked at it, then up at me, and then quickly hopped out onto the dock, and approached me.
I tried to stammer out an apology, before he handed me a Doctor's card.
"This looks infected, come see me in my office to run tests."
I walked around the corner and paused when I saw the coffee shop closed and boarded up.
Now, I understand that capitalism is horrible and such, and that having businesses close is part of that. I don't blame the owners, I assume, for having to close up for whatever reason.
But this was where I found the joys of coffee, where I met my wife, where I proposed to her. And now it was closed, and was set to become a Gentleman's Club, according to the signs in the windows.
So I guess it wasn't a complete loss overall, really.
The people were saved because the war was won by the Empire.
The war was won because the Empire broke the code of the Alliance's communication.
The code was broken because one lone encoder used his girlfriend's name as the base word for multiple messages.
The encoder was in love with his girlfriend because she was there when he dumped his last girlfriend.
He dumped his last girlfriend because she wouldn't give him blowjobs.
So, that's why I don't give blowjobs, because I could end up saving the world.
No other reason.
But men going down on women, that's good.
I won't bore you with the details of how I got frozen, since it is almost certainly unreplicable.
Plus the people who were looking after me here in 2146, they're more concerned about history, at least for them. Every day I had to talk about how I felt about various things, and how I thought other people thought.
Eventually, when I had enough at being held and having to answer stupid questions all day, i escaped the building I was being held in.
Turns out I was being trapped in a market research company, and I hadn't actually been frozen.
The Dark Emperor, it was foretold, would be killed by the sword that killed their father. When the plucky band of misfits managed to get to the throne room with the sword, the Dark Emperor thought he was dead. But in the fight, he managed to break the sword at the hilt, and drive the misfits away.
He had the blade melted down under gus supervision, and turned into a set of steel plates he fed his pet dogs off.
But then the plucky heroes returned, and killed him, with a new sword.
A new sword with an old hilt.
The Wizard led The Swordwoman into the inner sanctum of the old decaying temple, before he began to study the engravings on the wall in the flickering light of the torch.
"Hmmm. Interesting. It says her that the secret to unlocking the hidden door in here... Huh, it is for two people to engage in sexual congress."
The Swordwoman stared and then laughed.
"You and your convoluted set-ups."
Unfortunately, as the two came together and started to kiss, The Wizard had failed to learn that the temple was for a God of Celibacy, and he still had some power left.
I walked into the bar and was surprised to see Gary sitting at the bar, enjoying a beer.
I approached him slowly.
"Hey man. Surprised to see you here."
"Oh yeah, I totally hate this place."
"I just, isn't it your anniversary today?"
"Yep!"
I awaited further information, none was forthcoming.
"And you're here because...?"
"Oh, right! Well, I've made sure to make it seem like I've forgotten every major date, she thinks I don't remember any of them, so that if I ever actually forget something, she won't know!"
"Wouldn't it be better to just remember things?"
He blinked.
One of the other guards walked into the hallway towards his cell.
"The Warden asks what the hold-up is, the prisoner was supposed to be in the chair half an hour ago."
I sighed.
"'Prisoner Treatment Act (2004), Clause 5, subsection iv' clearly indicates if we award a last meal, they must be allowed to finish it. And look."
I pointed into the cell, where the prisoner was most of the way through the super jumbo bucket of popcorn shrimp.
The other guard blinked.
"What about his shellfish allergy?"
The Prisoner slowly fell over, flipping us the bird while dying.
It started with tripping as I got out of bed and hitting my shoulder on the wall.
It became a theme when my coffee mug broke and spilt coffee all over me.
Rush hour traffic was expected, sure, but it still made things worse.
Work was, well, it was work, so it kept everything bubbling along.
Yet more rush hour traffic, yet again expected, although the fender bender causing extra delays was a twist.
And then when I got home, I dropped my key in the dark of my garden.
And then I truly lost it.
Still looking for it.
He'd spent most of his life running, a new name and identity every time they got close. In a hundred towns in the world, he had caches of weapons and supplies, as well as allies who didn't know who he truly was but would do as he asked.
And one thing he always arranged was that if he was going to fake his death, someone would arrange for his grave to be full of weapons.
But this time, he'd fallen in love, for a given value of the term, and his grieving lover was left to arrange a cremation ceremony.
In the moments after she broke my heart by rejecting me, the plan sprung fully formed in my mind.
So I graciously accepted her rejection and agreed with her that we should remain friends. And so, over a few years, I worked on making her see me as who she wanted, be it going to the gym, volunteering at her preferred charity, and being a good friend.
And eventually, after another of her relationships ended, she came to me and offered herself to me.
And I...
I accepted. Because I still loved her, plus I felt like a new man.
I want to make it clear from the start that the theories that being able to imagine a thing doesn't automatically mean it exists somewhere in the multiverse, which also isn't infinite.
Because otherwise asking you to imagine the creature that cannot be seen, because it instantly and continuously repositions itself to be right behind you if it chooses you as its victim, until it finally attacks and devours your mind from behind with great ferocity, that would be cruel.
But don't worry, imagining it doesn't bring it into existence.
Doesn't mean it doesn't already exist though, to be fair.
So a few days ago I wrote a story making it seem like maybe I was self-referentially referring to the blog while writing like a chatbot writing about the same. That was me, for the record. But I had wanted to do a follow up where I actually would ask a chatbot, the one in the news, to do a 100 word story about doing a 100 word story. But when I tried it, while it did give me a 100 word story about 100 word stories, it was obvious that it was the chatbot.
Unless I wasn't that obvious...
She had begged me to let her remain on my ship for a few cycles, until the robot hunters her father sent after her were gone. I had agreed, but at the very first job I took, she was already causing trouble.
She watched as the cargo I was hired to move came aboard, then once we were out of the atmosphere, she glared at me.
"We're going to the nearest alliance station and freeing these slaves, yes?"
I sighed.
"First rule out here, don't cause trouble. Second rule, don't get caught."
I initiated my "Cargo Lost To Pirates" program.
The vault door had been the strongest and most secure in the world when it was installed. But after a few dozen years of rust build up, it was practically impossible to open. The Boss wanted to blow it, ready to accept some loss of loot in the process. But I swore to him that I could open it. I had brought it to him and his gang, after all, and I told him, with some science and electrical current, I could get it open.
He agreed, and I stalled until my fellow cops arrived and started arresting them all.
I looked back and forth between the man and the button he was holding.
"So I press the button, I get a million dollars, but a random stranger dies? How?"
"Does that matter?"
"Yes, it does. Do you have a sniper or something somewhere?"
"No, they just drop dead, their heart stops."
"Directly after I press the button? It causes it?"
"Yes, plus the bank transfer."
"I need some time to think about it, may I keep it?"
"Of course, no problem."
A few months later, the local university annouced a breakthrough in long range communication and data transfer technology.
As far as mysteries went, it wasn't that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. Just an annoyance, as someone kept stealing my junk mail from my mailbox in the lobby of my apartment complex.
Now while I'm sure some of you are already laughing at the idea of someone actually wanting their junk mail, I at least wanted the option to throw it out, you know?
Eventually I set a camera and filmed the lobby for answers.
Turns out that mailmen can take the wrong impression from half heard complaints and assume you don't want junk mail.
The team looked to me, surrounding the whiteboard in my hand.
I had maybe 5 seconds to think.
We needed to score, quickly.
4 seconds.
Their defence was airtight as soon as we got close.
3 seconds.
When they attacked, their entire team was like a well oiled machine.
2 seconds.
We can't be that, but...
1 second.
Their entire team?
"Ok boys, here's the plan, we need to let them attack..."
I drew the plan, and then they took the field once more.
They lured them in, got the ball, charged up the field, and...
Missed by one second.
The author was tired of having to think of new plots every day, to post on his blog. He could have just stopped writing, but he still wanted to continue. Just with less work.
So when he heard that Artificial Intelligence bots were now able to write stories that were actually good, according to the techy types who were using bots, he loaded one up and asked it to write him a story with exactly and only 100 words in it.
But the bot needed a plot, and so he used the obvious.
I think I've done a good job.
After several long moments of firing at each other, we both ran out of ammo at the same time. We both reloaded, and we both knew it was be a minute before our laser weapons were ready. So he called out over his barricade.
"You can give up now, I'll make your death quick and painless."
I called over mine.
"You honestly think I'd agree to that?"
"Well, considering that I'm going to hunt down and shoot your wife if you don't, yes."
I sighed and stood up.
"Fine."
He stood up as I threw a knife into his head.
I stood at the lectern, looking down at the notes on them, and the speech written upon the notes.
All I had to do was read the speech, and I'd get the power I'd wanted all my life. Sure, I'd have to give up my morals, my self-respect, everything that I had wanted to do, wanted to be, just to get the power.
Of course, that was not a fair trade off. I shouldn't have to sacrifice that just to get the power I so desired.
And that's true. I shouldn't have to do that.
I read the speech anyway.
Ok, so imagine you're one of the protectors of the universe. But for whatever reason, there has to be a cube the size and weight of a hamburger in this universe that you can't destroy or break or do anything to, because any damage to it might lead to the end of all things. Now, if that exists, what would you do with it, considering you might one day be gone?
If you answered 'set up a secret cult like group to protect it', can I ask what you'd do if said cult managed to lose the cube?
No reason.
He entered the office and grabbed three forms and filled them out quickly before placing them on my counter.
"I'd like a license please."
I looked over the forms.
"You'll also need a EC-56 form."
Again...
He entered the office and grabbed four forms and filled them out hurridly before slamming them on my counter.
"I'd like a license."
I looked over the forms.
"This is a EC-52 form, you need-"
Again...
He entered the office and grabbed gour forms and filled them out angrily before slamming them on my counter.
"License!"
"Manners."
He shot me.
Understandable, but no, again...
I held the Zippo out at arm's length, flicking it alight and then waiting.
After a moment, he noticed the flame, and the gasoline on the floor between us. He began to struggle against his bonds.
"Better hurry up, the fumes are what catches!"
He struggled harder.
"Oh come on! When you did this to my little girl, she was halfway free by now!"
He glared at me.
"I told you, that was just orders!"
I shook my head.
"And I told you, I don't care!"
I dropped the Zippo, only to find out it had a safety feature.
Disappointing.
After the third round of knocking, I finally opened the door, looking as casual and calm as I could with water dripping off me and a towel around my waist.
"Hi, sorry, was in the shower, I-"
He strode in, pushing me to the side.
"Where is she?"
"Sorry, who are you?"
He opened doors, looking through my apartment.
"My wife, I followed her, I knew she was cheating on me-"
He paused when he saw another man, showering.
"Yeah, I'm gay."
He left.
I then helped his wife out of her hiding place, thank goodness we had a threesome.
Not that I wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but I had to inform the captain of the problem.
She was unhappy about it, and insisted upon seeing the problem for herself.
I took her down to the storage chambers, and showed her the problem.
She began to rattle off the regulations to me, although she was clearly trying to convince herself that the prescribed solution to the problem was the correct one.
I stayed silent, until she ordered me to deal with the problem.
I carried the stowaway to the airlock and flushed them out into space.
After I turned on the lights and prepared the store, I opened the door, only to get pushed back in by a woman striding into the store.
"I need to speak to the manager."
I pushed myself back to upright as I adjusted my jacket.
"We don't... I'm the manager, can I help you?"
She looked at me and seemed to actually see me for the first time.
"Yesterday, I was in here and I was sold a faulty device, and I-"
"We weren't open yesterday, I was sick."
This derailed her, which only made things worse in the end.
When the crowd began to turn, that's when she grabbed the microphone and began to sing a classic aria.
It was the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard, now that she wasn't being forced to do back-up singing through a vocoder. It was emotionally charged but still stunning perfect, every note on point.
For the rest of my life, I'll never forget standing there and hearing that voice only a few feet away from me.
Such a shame that thr microphone wasn't working and thus no-one else heard it, and the crowd eventually went off in a full blown riot.
I entered the nebula and hoped the destroyer wouldn't follow me, but it did. So now I had a hard choice to make.
I couldn't leave the nebula, the destroyer would spot and destroy me before I could go to hyperwarp. So, I could go silent, try and outlast them, hope they gave up before they found me.
Or, I could fire my plasma cluster torpedoes, and hopefully destroy them without setting off a chain reaction of thr nebula.
I decided on the later, and fired.
Of the destruction of the destroyer and thr nebula, I got one outta two.
I walked into her quarters intent on asking her about her work on the warp drive, but that left my mind when I saw the device she was working on.
"Uh... What's this?"
She adjusted one of the eyepieces.
"After working alongside you I feel I need to understand humans better. So I've built this device to experience the entire gamut of human emotions."
"Really? I know you Diaolities are empathetic but that's a lot."
"I'll be fine."
She slipped on the helmet, and flipped a switch.
A moment later, she removed the helmet.
"Interesting."
I felt a little miffed.
She found me in the Berry Blossom grove, sitting on a smoothed stone.
"You knew I was coming."
I didn't bother turning around to address her.
"Of course. The blossoms flowered. I told you you'd return when they did."
She snorted.
"My coming back has nothing to do with the fucking trees."
I laughed.
"I never said there was a causation, just that there would be a coincidence."
She pulled her sword.
"I owe you the honor of facing your death on your feet."
"Remember that other thing I told you? About my ventriloquism studies?"
I jumped down onto her.
The map was a work of art. Drawn on an irregular piece of parchment, it was covered in symbols and lines, as well as a dozen riddles to indicate clues about where to start, where to look, where to dig. All of it fifficult enough to be impossible to work out, while being just comprehensive enough to try.
I kept it in my inner breast pocket at all times, but occasionally someone would threaten me, and steal it.
After which I'd just make up a new one.
Anyone who can't simply remember where they put their treasure doesn't deserve it.
So I've been thinking.
There's that thing about how even if only one in a million stars have planets and only one in a million of them are in the right area for life and even if only one in a million of those actually has life, that's still millions of millions of worlds.
If that's true, then even if one in a million of them has technical ability, and even if one in a million of those are advanced technology, that's still a number that ain't zero, and thus they should be around.
And they ain't.
I'm depressed now.
Many people know that when the Grim Reaper comes for you, you have the chance to play a game to try and save your life. But most people forget the second part of that, in that the Reaper can call upon the skills and talents of everyone who ever died. You might think yourself a great poker player, but better than every poker player who's ever died?
This means most everyone fails. But me, I've designed a game called Secret Rule Trumps. It's got a bunch of rules that give the dealer automatic wins. And no, I'm not telling you.
I picked up my fruity alcoholic drink, sipped it, and then sighed sadly.
She looked up from my side, looking confused.
"You ok babe?"
I sighed again.
"I'm here, with the love of my life, in a tropical paradise, sipping an amazing drink, food coming soon... Everything is perfect."
"And this is upsetting?"
I shook my head.
"Not as such, this is absolutely perfect."
"So why the sadness?"
"Because I can't help but think this is the high point of my life, and it's all downhill from here."
"I'll do my best to make sure it isn't then."
It was.
The Wizard led me to the middle of the village, a few old men glancing over before going back to their cards.
"Here it is, the Sword of Power."
I stared at a dull sword stuck in a stone.
"A thousand years ago, King-"
"So what are you supposed to do?"
"Ahem.
The future ruler of this land is said to be able to pull the sword out. Now, I can't use magic on the sword, so-"
"What about the stone?"
"What?"
"Just weaken the stone, it'll slide right out."
I guess that's why he picked me for the job.
So, chances are, Twitter is probably going to die soon, or at least go through such an upheaval that it'll be unrecognisable.
Much can, and will, be written about the reasons for this, and the obvious cause. I'm not interested in litigating that, at least here and now.
No, right now, I just want to be a voice to remind you that it's ok to feel bad about this. Your grief is valid, it's not stupid or shallow to have grief over such a loss.
It'll hit everyone differently, and that's ok. Like for me, It'll hit my blog hits.
My camp-fire was small but effective as I huddled next to it, waiting for the dawn to start moving again.
As I watched the embers and occasionally added another twig, I heard movement, and looked up.
It was three wolves, at least the ones I could see. I watched them for a few moments.
They didn't move, and so I went back to watching the fire.
I didn't intend to sleep, but I must have fallen asleep, given I woke up.
But I woke up alive, unbitten.
But the howls on the wind informed me this wasn't assured going forward.
She approached me across the bar as I checked my phone.
"There you are!"
She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek. My initial thought was that she was trying to get rid of a pest, but no-one seemed to be looking over.
"What you drinking?"
I tried to remove her arm from my waist.
"I'm sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else."
She laughed.
"Oh come off it, we've been talking for months!"
I shook my head and walked away, before messaging my buddy on the 'Star Complex Defense' MMO about the crazy lady.
I took a long hard look at the map, as I tried to decide what my orders were going to be.
Our forces were tired, bloodied, and barely hanging on.
I could order them to attack, a heroic final charge, which would give them peace, eventually, after they were killed.
I could order them to lay down their arms, and give them life, albeit under our enemies.
But then I got an idea.
Three days later, we were on top, our enemies on the run.
I'd tell you what I did, but I might need to use it on you.
She came in with a chip on her shoulder and a computer under her arm.
"You the repair geek?"
"I am currently manning the repair desk, yes. How can I help you?"
She practically slammed the laptop onto the counter.
"This ain't working!"
"Well I'll help as well as I can, what specifically is the issue?"
"It ain't working! And I tried turning it off and on again!"
"Very well, let me check."
I opened it to find a smashed screen.
"That's new!"
I smiled, as I prepared the surveillance camera for evidence when I refused for poor customer handling.
After three days spent crawling back and forth from my bed to my en-suite in pitch darkness, I finally emerged into the land of the living.
"So, I miss a meteor shower that blinds everyone?"
My room-mates looked at each other in confusion.
"Come on, 'Day Of The Triffids'!"
They shrugged, and I shook my head and sat down heavily on the couch.
"So what has happened?"
"They annouced a new eyepiece mobile device, preorders are already out to two years, and there's a algae that's taking over the rivers."
It was a slower pace, but the book still applied.
For a hundred days and nights, Earth had fought against the invading alien forces in a slowly losing battle of attrition. Every day we lost a little ground, but we made them pay for every inch of ground they took.
But at 7:05 am GMT, suddenly, they all left. Every last alien was gone, all over the world.
Humanity, cautiously, took a deep breath, and began to hope, for the first time in a long time, that things would work out.
This lasted the eight minutes it took the Sun going supernova to reach Earth and destroyed everything standing.
There were two types of men on the ship in regards to girls in ports.
Most of them were the type to have a girl in every port, although some of them didn't actually have girls in certain ports, and some of the others shared girls in certain ports, not that they knew it.
And most of the others had the one girl, in the one port, that they pined for all the time.
And then the captain was married to the sea, as he told the men constantly.
Until the fire forced his secret woman out of his quarters.
A strong wind blew through the trees, rattling the bare branches.
As they brushed against the windows, they made the most horrible noises, like fingernails dragging across my soul. But I focused on my writing, the sound making my book take a darker turn than I intended.
But then I came to a turning point, as I needed to decide which of the twins needed to die, as one of them needed the pain for the finale.
I flipped a coin.
As I did, two windows broke, and wind blew the coin out of the building.
I reconsidered the plot.
The King and Queen had moods, that the court was very good at reading. They had to be able to understand that when the Queen brushed her hair, it meant she was wanting her sewing devices nearby, or that the King tapping his foot at a speed faster than the water wheel turning meant you should offer him chilled water.
So when the delegate from the mountains came in and ignored every sign of their boredom, only for the King and Queen to keep him talking, clearly he had magic. The alternative, that all the signs were wrong, that's preposterous.
It's a service we offer only to the wealthiest of the wealthy. We have the ability, we explain, to transfer their conciousness to our computer system. Immortality, with no need to give up their fortunes. That's what really gets them, the idea that they can keep their money.
We give them a subdermal implant to map their mental pathways, then we can transfer their minds.
Of course, it's complete bullshit, as we're only recording their voice until they mention their financial details so we can make the AIs, in their own replicated voices, give their entire fortunes to various charities.
A hush fell over the room as the screen showed the robot reaching the artefact. It stepped up the stairs towards it, and then paused at the top of the platform.
The hush continued as the one person still moving in the room, the controller of the robot, adjusted things and then instigated the pick up subroutine.
The robot slowly leaned forward, then picked up the item.
There was no traps.
The control room cheered.
Someone slapped the controller on the back, making them fall forward, hitting the controls, and making the robot drop the item.
The controller was blamed.
The Unrelenting Evil was awoken by the Breaking of the Nine Seals.
As The Unrelenting Evil emerged from its chamber, it was expecting loyal worshippers, or perhaps an unprepared, idiotic historian to have awoken it.
Not someone bearing the Sword Of Light, the one thing that could send it back into its sleep. The Unrelenting Evil hissed at the figure.
"You awaken me only to put me back to slip?"
The figure shook its head.
"No, I need your help."
The Unrelenting Evil stared.
"What do you fear more than me?"
"Nothingness."
The Unrelenting Evil considered this, and relented slightly.
For the last few nights, I've seen a figure down on the street, hidden in the shadows. Every night, as soon as I spot them, they seem to melt away further into the darkness.
I've looked during the day, there's no garbage that I'm mistaking for a person. There really is someone watching me.
So last night, I set up a camera to record the street, and now I'm going to review the footage.
Excuse me for a moment.
...
Wait, wait, this is....
I don't understand, this footage is just blackness, but the street was lit up!
Unless-
Who's that?
The celebration was in full swing when she climbed up the ladder and slowly stepped out onto the lookout tower.
"Everyone else is partying, why don't you join us?"
I shook my head, keeping my eyes on the horizon.
"Just because we've won this war, doesn't mean we're safe. This would be the exact time to attack us."
She stepped closer.
"You need to relax. What use is being so defensive all the time, if you can't enjoy things?"
"Better defensive than dead."
She sighed.
"Well, a hope is dead now."
She left me alone.
No idea who Hope was.
A few moments into the fight, and there was a lull in the action. I tried to stay upright, without leaning on my sword, while he swayed slightly on the spot, blood pouring in a slow but steady stream down the axe in his hand.
I took the chance to try and stop this, one last time.
"I really don't want to do this."
"Few people want to die."
"That's not what I meant!"
He swung the axe, and we fought for a few moments.
At the end, I looked down at him.
"I guess you were one who did."
I don't subscribe to all that micro-expression garbage, but I do pay attention to people's faces when I can when I'm at the poker table.
You get some people who have tells, certainly, always useful to work out. However, there are some things that just can't be hidden. People's irises widening at bad hands, glances at chip stacks at good hands, etc. I get a lot of info from people's faces.
I always thought professional players were the worst, until I played Blind Joe.
His total lack of info didn't make up for his occasional mistake on feeling his cards.
Every weekday I caught the same morning bus into work, and he caught the bus just after me, going the other way. So we'd end up staring at each other across the road.
One day, I wore one of my Anti-Meat League t-shirts to work. He seemed bemused but didn't do anything on that day.
But starting the next day, every day, he was eating a meat product, a different type one, every damn day.
I got more and more frustrated, until one day, I finally crossed the road to yell at him.
And he showed me his faux-meat product.
The steam-powered golem slowly powered up, and looked around slowly as its programming loaded.
Once its visual sensors were powered up, it took in the two figures on either side of it, both sitting on chairs similar to the platform the golem was placed on.
It absorbed that one looked Demonic, while the other looked Angelic, and then after its full databanks were loaded it understood both were chained in place.
It began to try and comprehend why, before its subroutines were suddenly dedicated to the rules of Kings and Staves, just as the smiling human began to deal cards.
I wasn't about to admit to anyone that I had a crush on the girl who ran the juice stand, least of all her. She was clearly out of my league, and I knew it.
So I kept my distance, sadly. It hurt, every day, until the day that I saw her out in the city. I crossed the street so as to avoid her, but didn't see the truck.
After I died, I was told I could find out any fact I wanted.
I asked what she thought about me.
She thought I was a creep, so, mission accomplished?
"Wait, what was that? What's not going on?"
"I don't recall saying...
Never mind, ok, look, I've built a time machine here."
"No you haven't."
"Yes I have! It's here on the table!"
"How can you see anything in this gloom?"
"Well, I'll admit that I can't read this note I wrote myself here. Something about... Looking? Looping?"
"Well look, let me just turn on a light, this is the lamp switch, right?"
"What? No, that's not-"
The room filled with smoke, as the time machine did its job, and it moved everything back a moment.
"Wait, what was that?"
I sat looking at the sunset, the hours passing slowly, before the spirit manifested beside me.
"You need to go...." it said, with a voice of wind blowing through graveyards at midnight.
"No, no I don't. I need to stay right here."
The spirit stared at me, before it began to grow and look more demonic.
"And that ain't gonna work, so don't bother."
After another long moment, it shrunk back down.
"Your destiny-"
"I am well aware of what my destiny is supposed to be. But I've decided that I don't care!"
"But what about your daughter?"
"My... daughter?"
Once the dragon was defeated, the five heroes who had gathered together to defeat it stood over the body, and then they divided the spoils.
The Knight took the captured Princess, to return her and gain prestige from his liege.
The Assassin claimed the items strewn around from previous heroes who had fallen.
The Acolyte quickly gathered the library up, many holy texts among them.
The Technomancer took the gold, because gold.
And the Mage was happy with the lair, because they were actually a Necromancer, and they were actually after the body, so this would happen all over again.
I paced back and forth outside the emergency operating room, debating what I was going to do.
I could run, sure, but that would prove my guilt, and I'd have to keep running, so that was out of the question.
Instead, I'd need to explain why she was mistaken about what had happened. The blood loss, the head injury, all of it would explain why she suddenly thought I'd attacked her.
Yeah, that would be the ticket. I-
The doctor came out.
"I'm so sorry, she didn't make it. But her last words were your name, repeatedly, if that helps."
So I had to put the family pet down today.
She was old and had a variety of things wrong with her, due to being old, so this was the right thing to do, everyone agreed. And I didn't do it myself, don't get me wrong, i paid a professional who did it painlessly and such.
Now, yes. It was the right thing to do, that we all agree on.
And there are lots of problems in the world, and I cannot begin to pretend this is anything like being in a war zone.
But it still fucking hurts, yeah?
She asked me to sit down, and I mentally prepared for the talk.
I'd gone through it several times by now. It's not you It's me, I'm just needing to find out who I am, I want to see other people, all the cliches.
At least the time she told me I was a jerk and boring, I respected her honesty.
But in any case, I was so lost in reviewing the last few times that I didn't really pay attention to what she said.
"Well, if you think that's best, I-"
I then noticed the ring in her hand.
Not that I'm trying to be a spoilsport, but I do need to be honest here.
I didn't enjoy the performance.
Look, even grading on a curve, the performances were wooden and non-emotive, the costumes were clearly trying to be genuine reproductions and instead were just sad, and the lighting and sound, I mean, I'd argue that not having a director would only help things!
So no, I didn't like the performance, in any way. Not even my daughter's performance, she already knows my opinion, she may be in first grade but she understands that honesty is the best policy.
When strolling along the promenade, a proper young lady should take care not to be followed by any man with untoward intentions.
If one finds oneself being followed by a man with untoward intentions, a proper young lady must never leave a populated area and amble into any area describable as isolated.
If a proper young lady does find herself in a location away from normal society and a man chooses to be untoward in a forward manner, she should not scream, that is unbecoming.
However, in such situations, it is time to show how unproper young 'ladies' can be.
The visiting politican stepped into the elevator with the director of the site, before it began to lower into the ground.
"So let me see if I have it right. There are several types of creatures and beings that are similar to vampires and ghosts and such, and these secret bases are where they are kept once they're captured?"
The director shook their head.
"No no, that's the story humans tell themselves, they need to feel there's order and control."
The politican turned, finding the director had vanished before he was consumed by the creature disguised as a hidden base.
I had been fighting the invaders fairly well, until one of them got lucky with fire and blinded me.
It didn't slow down my fighting, although it did impact my accuracy.
But then I heard a familar whimper, before it was muffled.
I'd have respected them if they'd told me and threatened her to stop me. But no, they clearly wanted me to accidentally kill her in my blindness.
She whimpered twice, as I spun around and stabbed forward, finding a stomach.
Her three whimpers spun me to the left, before they realised the code, just as my eyesight returned.
I kicked the sauce off my fingers before picking up the phone. Before I could speak, she was already yelling.
"YOU SOLD THE TOYBOX???"
I blinked and adjusted the phone.
"Well yes, it was my box."
"It was OUR toybox, I wanted to give it to my children one day!"
"It's a dollar store plywood piece of junk, it's not that big a deal!"
"You stupid...
Well I deserve half of what you got for it, at least!"
"Uh... Yeah, ok, come over then."
She wasn't impressed with the half plate of now cold buffalo sauce chicken wings I offered.
We needed to find his new will, and we finally worked out it was in his briefcase. The probably was that we couldn't cut it open without risking damaging it.
8 digits, 8 options on each one. I'd have worked out the number of possible combinations but that would delay my starting on going through the combinations. She began to search around for a clue.
Several hours later, she rushed back in.
"12481107! It's binary followed by a Star Trek-"
I had already unlocked the case, but that did tell me the password for his laptop I found inside it.
She was born exactly nine months and a day after the starship left Earth.
She grew up on the starship, every day spent seeing the stars drifting past the heavy windows, learning why the ship left Earth, and where they were going.
When she turned 16, she received her designation, and joined the workers in Resource Management.
For 80 years, every day, she watched the screens, checking waste tubes, running analysis on reclamation processes, and helped keep the ship running.
She died nine months and a day before the ship encountered the planet.
At terminal velocity, so she was lucky.
My foot began to hurt one day.
I was used to getting minor injuries and pains, from bumping into things or picking up stuff that was too heavy. But this was different, as I had no idea where this one came from. I just put it down to sleeping badly on it.
But then, every day, it got worse and worse. I wasn't a doctor avoider, but it took me some time before I made an appointment.
When I turned up, they took one look, made a cut, drained it, and it felt much better.
Until the infection took hold.
It had been a few years since I got caught in this time loop, and I was still in the initial fun having phase, if that movie was any indication.
Although I'll admit my having fun was a bit different from the guy in the movie. Because each day I went to the Chinese restaurant and ordered the next combination.
"Hello, I'll have..."
I got distracted by a stunning woman walk past the window.
"Uh, sorry, I'll have a 6, a 17, and a 19."
"You had that yesterday."
"Oh, right, sorry, 18, not... Wait, what?"
The waitress went pale.
MI didn't quite understand all the rules of the game, but I understood enough to realise it was a getting to know you party game. The Hostess' Brother's Indoor Soccer teammate picked up a card.
"Ok, so, how many times have you done the walk of shame?"
I stared in confusion.
"Zero I bet!" said the Host's former roommate's de facto partner.
"What's a walk of shame?"
"It's when you have to walk home in the morning after a one night stand."
"Oh.
Well, yeah, zero."
"Told you!"
"Because I'm not ashamed."
"Oh."
"And I'm always at my place."
"Ah."
I was the only blood relative he had, while she was his long-suffering personal assistant.
On his deathbed, he dictated a new will, surprising us both. We were both entitled to half of his billions, but if, and only if, in his words, we 'avoided dying alone' and were married.
Yes, like that movie, shut up.
Anyway, neither of us was, and thus I went to her and proposed a loveless marriage of convenience.
She agreed, and for 25 years we remained married and unloving.
And then she got sick, and died, and this, I got all her money too.
Every day, a new instruction came down from above, while data came in from below.
I'd take the data, integrate it into the existing dataset, then rerun all the analysis using the new instructions. There was always another new idea. Focus on the mean survival time, categorise the deaths via methodology, ignore all those who died before processes had been completed.
The rare times I had a chance to discuss things with my direct supervisor, I'd asked when this might be all over. She shook her head and explained there was always going to be one more.
Upstairs were indecisive.
Most of the tales of horror and fright we tell the children in our care are, we believe, metaphors for things we want them to learn and absorb.
Boogiemen under the bed aren't real, but we use the concept to discourage the child walking around in the dark and night. Trolls were about racial groups in the past, now about strangers. The Tooth Fairy is about capitalism, and so on.
But actually, we've forgotten the real reason, it's to ensure generations are prepared of those creatures might one day return.
Except trolls, that's just been racism from the get go.
I had arranged for my life to be as simple and unthinking as possible. I'd seen the way trying to keep things together had eventually made my Mother's heart give up. I swore I'd never let the same thing happen to me.
I chose my home to be near my job, I did meal preparation every weekend, I used clippers to shave my head myself, everything was designed to not have to think or stress, just drift through my life, relaxed and calm.
And then, just as things had gotten just right, and I was finally happy, I met her.
It started as just my fooling around with a game making program, just for fun.
But I quickly got into it, as I found a gameplay loop I really liked, and I just kept building on it, adding new levels and aspects, until it became clear to me that this was potentially a thing.
While I could I just shove some text screens together for a story and call it a day, but I felt, after some reflection, that the game deserved better.
So I worked on a story, wrote out some cutscenes, recorded them, hated them, and abandoned everything.
The church was small, barely able to hold fifty people. It was built when the town was only forty or so people, but with the Willis family and the Thompson family moving in, it was quickly overwhelmed.
Shortly after, a new one was built, large enough to handle things for decades, but the old one remained, unused.
Every so often, someone would try to come up with a new plan to use the building for something, but it had to remain a church, they said.
So I came in with the Church of Sin.
Surprisingly, they were cool with it.
Out here on the edge of the known galaxy, you learned to just put up with crazy shit. So when I cracked the asteroid and the alien ghost attached herself to me, I just learned to put up with her.
If anything, it did give me someone to talk to on the 24 hour mining shifts. Although she didn't like me taking the Buzzshots to stay awake, but she understood.
She also didn't like me spending most of my credits on Calmshots, but she understood.
Eventually, she understood enough to no longer need me.
Although she needed my body, naturally.
I crawled out of my tent, expecting to see a sunrise. Instead I found an angry woman with pointed ears and small wings staring at me.
"Uh... Did I mix up my mushrooms?"
She tilted her head, mouthing the words, then speaking.
"Human, you slept in the Forbidden Valley!"
"I what?
No, wait, I can't be the first person to sleep here!"
"I didn't say you were the first. Now the cost must be paid!"
"You can't have my name!"
"Fine, no name, how about your tongue instead?"
"Fine.
Wait!"
She spun her hand and gjdafv bkjfx dyijcsfb...
Lougljf!
HTUJVDY!!!
"Fine, fuck it, I'll do it myself."
The captain strode off the bridge and down to engineering, just before the power conversion coil exploded and took out all biological officers on the deck.
"Navigation, take the chair!"
The first officer ran to the missile bay, just before the launcher malfunctioned and it blew up.
"You have command!"
The navigation officer said this and ran to the escape pod, unaware it had already left and sucked him out into deep space.
Then, the enemy vanished and I was alone for the last five years, as I told the other investigation team.
The assassin ended up standing between the target and their client, guns trained on both of them.
"You lied to me!"
The client shook their head.
"I never said the client wasn't a child. You never asked. So now you have a choice, do you break your stupid personal rule, or do you break the contract? Choices, choices..."
The assassin glared between the two of them, before finally turning to the target, and shot the target in the chest.
"We done?"
The client nodded.
The assassin then shot the client multiple times, and then began first aid on the child.
As he went to shoot me, I thrust forward with the broken umbrella, piercing his heart with it.
He dropped the gun, and lacked the ability to pick it up, as he felt himself taking his last breaths.
Instead, he managed to pull off his sunglasses and held them out to me.
"Given to me by my first true kill..."
He died. I took the sunglasses, and went to put them on when I saw the small bomb hidden inside it, so I passed it out the window where it exploded harmlessly.
I'd have told him off, but you know.
I opened the storage unit with trepidation, unsure what to expect. I was somewhat surprised to find it neatly organised and laid out. Having been used to dealing with disorganised messes, it was a nice change.
But as I began to sort through it, the labels kept being wrong. The sofa was labelled as the dining room set, a lamp with a label saying it was clothing.
And then it got weird. A pack of plates was, apparently, 'Spot (Dalmatian)', and so on.
I checked the will again, and suddenly realised they had wanted to hide their wishes while alive.
The step was broken.
I knew that, I was the one that had noticed it in the first place, back when the crack was small and insignificant. I'd logged it in the correct folder, and thus it was no longer my problem, it was the responsibility of the boss.
The step was still broken.
When I remembered it, I would avoid it, stepping over it. But that was rare, as most of the time, I was too busy working to think about it.
But the step was still broken.
And when it completely broke under me, I also became broken.
When compared to other achievements, I know it's not that important. There are taller mountains, climbed by those with harder paths. People do more, then use it as a launching platform for even higher achievements.
It's nothing, really, compared to those. Just a round number of days, all of them without a type of action. An action that was hurting me, hurting those I loved. So not doing it is the sane, logical, obvious thing to do. So why the fuck should I celebrate?
Because these 100 days were mine, not theirs.
And because there's another 100 days to come.
Thankfully the aliens had a translation device.
In my first meeting, as I sat down, the alien opposite me said something
<This one asks for opposite's pronouns, yes?>
I blinked, and carefully weighed things.
"Yes, and mine are They/Them."
The device beeped, and then began to talk in their language for over a minute, more as I got embarrassed and tried to get it to stop and ask what was going on.
The alien responded, and the translation explained.
<This device translate context and true meaning.
This one wishes to offer opposite a hug?>
That hug didn't need translation.
As my daughter rubbed behind Fido's ears, she saved the file and then looked over at me.
"Why is it that symbol, anyway?"
I glance over from my screen.
"What is it, sweetie?"
"Saving files on devices, it's always that odd shaped square thingy. Why is that the save symbol?"
I took a deep breath as I pushed away from the desk.
"I'm old.
That's a floppy disk, which used to be what you put files on. Often stuff looks like things that are old-fashioned, don't worry."
Fido, our cleaning robot, barked and then went off to keep cleaning things.
Long before the Three Tribes, here where the rivers Triff, Toof, and Helda all flowed into the Lake of Life, there were three villages, each with skills unique to them. One village was skilled at fishing from the lake, one skilled at harvesting the plants, and one skilled at attacking the other two and gaining tribute.
Some think that the Three Tribes came from those three villages, but no.
Each of the first two tribes hired mercenary squads to stop the other one. These two squads then immediately took over the villages, and that's where the Three Tribes came from.
Data files would come in in various levels of corruption and degradation, and I would do my best to fix them.
Most people thought people like me just ran a couple AI programs over the files and called it a day. But there was a lot more to it, on some files at least.
When they were badly damaged, I'd end up having to go line by line and fix it, however possible.
But this did mean I had to guess the contents, and sometimes I get it wrong.
"She's not cheating" vs "She's cheating" is just one word difference...
The ship had been becalmed for twenty days, at least. The crew was getting stir crazy, and the Captain and the Quartermaster both tasked me with finding a way to fix this.
It took me a day, mostly because I was hoping for the wind to pick up. But when it didn't, I introduced the crew to the ancient game of Keys and Coins.
The crew got into it as I explained the ancient rules, as quickly as I could come up with them.
Ending up stabbed over losing one too many bluff rounds was a little disheartening, on reflection.
On the thirtieth night after she left, there was a knock on my door.
That morning, I had given up her coming back to me. But as soon as that knock came, my hopes rushed back in, as I stood up, gathered myself together, and then opened the door.
There was a young woman standing there, but it wasn't her.
She asked me if I was me, and when I confirmed it, she handed me a letter.
I opened it and read it quickly.
I looked up at her, and my heart, while not healing, certainly felt a little better.
"Putting to one side the issue of-"
"Putting to one side? We're not putting anything to one side! This is-"
The resolution adjudicator sighed and leaned forward.
"As I explained at the start, we need to work together to-"
"Shut up, this bitch is-"
"Bitch, you son of a bastard? Fuck you, you-"
The adjudicator sighed and leaned back, counting to ten as the two neighbours yelled at each other, and then stood up and let loose with a string of profanities.
They hoped a mutual enemy might get the neighbours aligned.
Instead, they both sued the adjudicator for distress.
The detective walked into the interview room and sat down opposite me, pushing the table into me in an obvious attempt to intimidate me.
"So you wanna confess now?"
I made a show of looking at the seat next to me, with the lack of my attorney there.
"We don't need to bother them, surely?"
I sighed and leaned back in the chair.
"Got a pen and paper?"
He fetched them, and tossed them onto the table. I saw that a confession was already written.
I tore it off, and wrote two words on the new page.
He wasn't happy.
One day I found a quarter on the ground as I was waiting for the bus. I thought about keeping it, but instead, on a lark, I popped it into the old school vending machine, and pulled out a capsule. Inside of it was a small red car toy, with "8/99" stamped on the bottom.
So, of course, I was soon putting in a quarter every day, as I wanted the full set, as I got 1 through 12, but then just got doubles.
Until I found a new one stamped "1/00" and I saw it was dates.
The young man was running the tiller through his field when the nobleman rode up on a fine horse, a couple more noblemen arriving a second later.
"Peasant!"
The young man looked up and saw it was the Duke's son.
"Yes, Sirs?"
"Have you ever considered the beauty inherent in natural order?"
The young man stared, before finally answering.
"Not really, Sir. I just have time to tend to my crops and the wife."
The noblemen rode off, arguing, while the peasant made a mental note to ask the Duke Son's Wife about this next time they were in bed.
I was trying very hard not to think about just how much money the pile of chips in front of me was worth. It was just numbers. And this number was smaller than the pile opposite, but not by much. If I went in and won, I'd double up. Or I could lose everything.
I checked my cards once more, then looked at the table, and I tried to think, to count, to determine.
But in the end, I just had to, and I called.
The cards flipped over, and my pile doubled.
Now I could think of the cash.
The camp-fire always drew attention. Usually it was a wolf or some other creature, looking for scraps. I rarely set one up in a location where large animals were likely to come calling.
But occasionally, another traveller would approach, looking to share the warmth of the fire. My sense of trust was solid enough that I allowed some to stay, then got up and walked away other occasions.
This night, the traveller was a stunning woman, and there was no one else around, so I allowed her to stay.
In the morning, I awoke to find she'd taken my fire.
I hesitated, the final brick in my hand.
I drank the moment in, as I was almost finished. A decade of my life had been spent, mostly but not completely dedicated for building this, by myself, brick by brick. When I was an old man, I would tell my grandchildren how I'd done it, how I'd found purpose and meaning in the simple joy of building this-
Suddenly, there was a cracking noise as the riverbed shifted, and one of the walls fell down.
Part of me was happy for more work.
My foot, under the wall? Not so much.
The Wizard was insistent on being kept appraised of every step of the errand. He accomplished this by casting a communication spell at seemingly random times. Getting woken up by his huge face demanding information was bad enough, getting interrupted taking a shit was worse.
But he at least seemed to understand when most of the reports were about thr same.
And then his last message found me tied up by the underground creatures.
They were clearly stunned and were ready to worship him.
But if he had the social skills to pull that off, he wouldn't have needed me...
It was a complicated few seconds. All I knew was that I was slowly drifting away from the spaceship, my tether cut, with only a gun in my hand.
I knew my physics, if I fired the gun behind me until it was out of projectiles, then threw the gun, I'd have a chance at staying close enough to be found and saved.
But in front of me, the alien who presumably cut my tether was slowly breaking into the craft.
I fired every bullet into the alien. They all bounced off, as I drifted away.
Worst of both worlds.
It was a quarter to six in the morning, and I wanted to be in bed, warm, safe, asleep.
But no, I had to run, now, since I had no time later, nor would I have energy for when I did have the time.
So as I started off, my feet quickly aching, I knew that this was supposed to help me in the long run, that maintaining my schedule would help keep me healthy and strong.
But as the wind cut into my skin, and it began to rain, I considered it if was worth it.
It was not.
I put in my 2 weeks notice, and all hell broke loose.
I was able to ignore all the complaining from those who reported to me that they would get stuck with a worse manager.
I was able to ignore all the questions from my co-workers about why I would leave, where I was going, what was going to happen.
And I was even able to ignore all the efforts from my superiors to keep me where I was, all the bonuses they offered.
Because I couldn't ignore the ongoing expenses investigation HR was undertaking and was getting too close.
Building the settlement took years, as most of the building was only able to be done by one or two people for an hour or so a day, with the rest of their days spent gathering the food and water to survive.
But eventually, everyone had a home, and there was storage enough to survive even the toughest winter.
It felt good, to be at the point where things were good.
It lasted a month.
I had hoped the changes would come due to population growth. And in a way it was.
Just of termites, rather than of human beings.
Once I arrived on the oil rig, I approached the supervisor. It took a while to get the story out of him, but eventually he explained that some of his workers had heard a few odd noises from the drilling hole. Then two of them broke into a fight, one dying to his injuries.
I insisted on speaking to the survivor. Luckily the ship hadn't left, and I was about to speak to them.
After a few questions, the guard left, and I was able to work out if this was the servant of Stonoma or not.
Sadly, it wasn't.
The Translation Matrix was what made trade across the entire Galaxy possible. When the Ancient Devices were finally understood, this was the first practical application. These days, most people speak Galaxy Standard, but the Translation Matrix still had uses, mostly with the discovery of Humanity.
The multiple languages thing, not a problem, even with those languages that stole from others.
No, the Matrix has issues due to so much of human language cultural references, a concept no other language had.
Now, Humans did have a term for this.
Which was a cultural reference, of course, just to be really difficult.
The billboard was on the side of the apartment block by Main Street, and as long as everyone could remember, it was advertising Garry Meller's various business ventures. Most of the time it was his used car lot, but it would occasionally advertise his bar, his Christmas and Halloween stores, and then, for over a year, his bid for State Congress.
It was an non-insignificant ally to his campaign, and was thought to be the reason he got over the line.
And then someone finally asked how he got it, and found out about his mistress in the apartment adjoining.
The Psi-Omega Organisation, secretly, had two dozen bases hidden around the world, in the basement of several skyscrapers, located in the center of the cities deemed most likely to be the epicentre of inter-dimensional attacks on this reality.
Each base was sworn to secrecy, and deliberately stayed out of sight, communicating with no-one, not even the other bases, so as to avoid detection.
But, like all places meant to be top secret and locked down tight, each one had a food delivery guy who was used all the time.
The exact same man, across all the world.
They should've communicated.
I would like to say that I was absent from doing this increasingly broken daily 'art' challenge thing that means more to me and mental health than as content for any of you reading this now for a positive reason.
That I was gone because I was with my family as well celebrated a wedding between two people who had found love and joy with each other. That I was in a happy place as I took part in a celebration of love and commitment.
But I can't say that. Because I'm not sure if I'm allowed to mention it.
I once held her in high regard, but then she left.
I once paid attention to every word she said, but then she left.
I once held her when she cried, laughed, came, but then she left.
I once swore I would provide for her, protect her, honor her, but then she left.
I once saw her across a party, getting close to a young man, but then she left.
I once confronted her, and began to yell at her, trying to get her to apologise, but then she left.
And she was right to do so, I know now.
I had ducked out into the alleyway for a quick smoke, when suddenly a portal of blue energy formed, and a figure in metallic clothing jumped through before it vanished.
The figure stood up and looked at me. It spoke in a couple of languages I didn't recognise, then finally spoke English.
"You understand this?"
"Yeah?"
"Right, good. Who won the Battle of Toronto, the Communist Federation or The Confederacy?"
"Uh, what? Neither of those exist."
He looked stunned.
"You mean, I've finally found a universe without racism and inequality?"
I laughed, but turns out we're actually the best going.
The universe revealed itself a few moments after I'd eaten the mushrooms.
I saw the extent of how far everything stretched out, and how small and insignificant humanity was in comparison to all of existence.
I then saw my place in the human race, the tiny cog in the machine, a machine that was like a speck of dust on the infinitely huge mountain of life.
So yes, the daze allowed me to see my place, or lack thereof. Just how meaningless my life was.
Tell you what, it was such a load off my mind, I felt much better.
We get plenty of various beings in the tavern, and if I didn't have all these protections, we'd end up destroyed most nights.
The armed guards are technically part of it, but to be honest they don't worry anyone but the simplest of creatures.
The various magic protection spells on the building are the backbone, but aren't the sole reason.
But what really keeps people in check? The fact that we have the best cocktails on the continent, and have sworn a blood oath not to make them anywhere else but this tavern.
And the dragon out back, I guess.
After I taught them how to operate the timeline monitoring system, making sure to do the full tell-show-tell method (we were in a temporal lock, why not take the time to do it right?), I asked them if they had any questions.
"So do we keep it trained on the time around World War 2 or 4?"
I sighed.
"Neither, look, preventing disasters or major incidents like those aren't high on the priority list on those looking to alter the timeline."
"Saving millions isn't a priority? What the hell is?"
"Altering the casting of sci-fi franchises mostly. Occasionally fantasy, too."
He had me trapped, leg mangled, arm broken, chest impaled.
He reloaded his gun, calmly, as he stared at me, then pulled a hip flask from his pocket and flicked the cap off. He took a swig and then knelt down in front of me.
"You fought well. Last drink?"
I laughed, spitting up some blood.
"I always swore off it, after it killed my father. But sure."
He poured some into my mouth, before my squad arrived and saved me.
The fact i developed a drinking problem was due to the many injuries, not that one drink, I swear.
The popcorn machine always took a minute between pouring in the kernels and the first few pops, at which point I had to start adding flavor and stirring and all the other work.
That minute was the nearest thing I got to a break on my shifts, so I treasured that part, I always made sure I did the popcorn.
And then they brought in a new machine. It had internal kernel storage, automatic replenishment, and basically removed this time off.
But then the self-cleaning process took a half-hour, that i just needed to supervise, so it worked out OK.
The rebellion began even before we fully controlled the planet, small cells of saboteurs popping up all over the occupied territories.
And even if we stamped them out, every factory and processing plant we built was struck with delays, issues, every possible way to slow down things, they did.
Eventually, after the complete failure to break the spirit of the inhabitants, we had a choice to make. Abandon the planet, or process every last one of them.
Thankfully, given that they were decended from a fourth generation Earthship, they weren't really Human, so destroying them all was, morally, completely justified.
She walked in, grabbed the keyboard out from under my hand, spun the monitor around, and typed furiously for several seconds and then spun the monitor back around. Lines of numbers filled it.
I looked between the screen and her face for several seconds.
"Can I buy a vowel or something?"
"The numbers aren't adding up! Someone is embezzling thousands from current accounts!"
I looked again, and now that I knew what I was looking at, I saw it too.
I thanked her, and launched a full investigation, thus totally missing her stealing from the much larger infrastructure upkeep accounts.
The game was a complex game of chance, bluffing, and wagering. Even when played by children, it was a tense game. This one, with the future of the planet on the line, was unsurprisingly extremely tense.
The representative of the general populace was stuck all in, and was unlikely to win, as the business leader placed a large pile of chips onto one side of the scale system, and then the religious zealot placed their chips onto the other side, and then the cards were flipped.
All the clever planning doesn't help with dumb chance helping the little people though.
Every time I drifted off to sleep, I dreamed the same dream. Myself, sitting on a mountaintop, a beautiful sunset before me, a more beautiful woman by my side, a feeling of happy contentment washing over me.
And every morning, I woke up angry it wasn't real.
But that anger motivated me, enough that I sought to find that beautiful woman, find that mountaintop, get there on a beautiful clear afternoon.
And with a lot of work, I did, I found them all, and experienced... Nothing. No feeling whatsoever.
I knew the benefits were worth the efforts, but still, disappointing.
There was a burst of light, and an angel appeared inside the circle of runes drawn out on the floor.
The angel was confused, until it saw the figure sitting cross-legged a few feet away.
"What is the meaning of this?"
The figure spoke softly.
"Despite the aesthetics, when it comes down to it, demons and angels are the same creatures, just in different states. So the same technique to capture them should work on you. And here we are."
"You captured me for... Curiosity?"
"No, to make a deal with your boss. You for my beloved, returned to me."
The robot had its primary instructions, secondary instructions, and tertiary instructions. The primary ones were the classics, and the secondary ones all had to do with the job it was built for.
But the tertiary ones were the ones that made the robot unique. Most of them were purely aesthetic, it grunted when picking up boxes, despite not needing to, and would whistle, sort of, at times. It allowed it to blend in with all the other workers.
But slowly but surely, as the humans retired and were replaced by other robots, it became more unique.
And thus, a target.
The waitress glanced up as someone entered the diner, then did a double-take when she realised who it was.
"Bill?"
"Yeah?"
"Uh... The usual?"
"Thanks."
He sat down and she poured out a black coffee and fetched a slice of the pie of the day.
"So, what's with the suit?"
"Huh?"
"Well it's just that normally you're in your work gear, you know, the greasy overall and t-shirt thing. Not a suit and tie and neat hair."
"Gotta appointment."
"You look good!"
"Thanks, I guess. I hate it."
"Oh, well, I don't."
His blank stare sank her heart a little.
I started with niche video game quizzes of various difficulties, posting one every few days, to middling, at best, interest.
But then they updated the system, and it was quite different. So different that I did a super simple quiz just to get a handle on it. But I accidentally posted it, without noticing.
A day later, and it was my most popular quiz of all time. Seems that a super simple task that gives you warm, unconditional praise at the end proved popular with almost everyone.
And those who didn't like it loved the insults for failing the task.
It was determined through several discussions on the developers discord server (click here [link dead] for a post thread explaining) that the social media account Oddish_Swimmer_118 was an ARG for the announcement for the highly anticipated 'Interstellar Trader 6'.
For the months following, fans followed and copied the actions of this supposed ARG account to try and find the key to unlocking the announcement.
After several months of swimming challenges and learning to make German fruit cakes, the developer annouced the game with several elements of the ARG integrated.
Oddish_Swimmer_118, totally unrelated to the game, still does not understand anything.
Once upon a time, there were three Princesses, all of whom wanted to marry the Prince of the largest kingdom.
One Princess focused on making herself as pretty and feminine as possible, to make herself the picture of beauty and symbolic leadership.
Another Princess focused on training, gaining skills in combat, earning many victories on the battlefield, a picture of military leadership.
The third studied, and learned how to govern, how to allocate resources and negotiate diplomatic solutions, a picture of practical leadership.
He'd have been happy with any of them, but they realised a throuple together made more sense.
The two islands had long traded, sending goods and young people back and forth over the channel between them over the years.
But then the two islands were conqu.... liberated by two different empires, and a cold war broke out between them. And thus the lines between the two islands on the maps became important.
The residents ignored this, at first, until both groups were forc... Helped to move to the mainlands, and the islands became military bases.
Eventually, historians would rediscover the past relationship. Of course, one island clearly controlled the other, the one in the winning empire, naturally.
There are 43,964 different planets with intelligent life that have developed to a point where activities with no immediate practical benefit, also known as 'games', have developed.
And despite all the physical differences in these races and their environments, there is one type of game that always develops. No matter how many appendages, no matter the counting system, there's always a game involving getting to 21 without going over.
While this has something to say in regards to the nature of mathematical constants, the real question is, why is it only Humanity that decided to theme betting around the game?
"How many relationships you think you got left in you?"
I stared at my room mate over my coffee.
"It's too early for this shit."
"No, I'm serious. How many more times do you think you can do a relationship?"
I blew on my coffee.
"I presume you're referring solely to romantic, life partner ones, because if you mean any and all relationships, then I cannot answer you.
But romantic relationships? None."
He looked confused.
"You can't be serious!"
"You asked, I answered. Why?"
"Because my sister needs a rebound-"
"Then I'm definitely not available. I can't afford to move."
I didn't care about what he wanted from the tomb, I just cared about the gold he was paying me. It was enough for me to get him through all the traps and past all the abominations.
As I waited for him to finish his graverobbing, he started talking to himself about the stiff's stuff. After a moment, I couldn't help butting in.
"Wait, sorry, this is some hugely powerful wizard and his power was in a ring? Why not just absorb the power himself?"
"So I could live again!" The ancient wizard said after he took over my client.
I recently picked an old project back up, and it's made me consider my relationship with Gods. Because it's a running theme in a lot of works that there are Gods, and they're usually of the Greek or Roman style, less in specifics, but in terms of there being a lot of them, each for an area of power.
And while I can probably find origins for this in the works that inspired me, I think it's a reflection of my internal conflict.
I want there to be someone greater, but they must be incompetent, because, well, look at everything!
The being behind the desk gestured to me, as I left the line and passed them the form as I plugged my translation matrix in.
"So this is Form <Untranslatable>, you are sure that this is the correct form?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"You have a parental lineage that is identifiable?"
"Yep, I know my three dads and my mother."
"You haven't undergone any stasis travel?"
"Nope, my age is non-relative."
"And you're not a Hypon 17 Rangers fan?"
"Wait, what? Why does my zero-G-goalball team matter?"
"Just a joke, relax."
"Oh, fine. Go Rangers!"
They quickly marked the form 'Denied'.
We were in the middle of the jungle when I made a step, and heard the click.
So did she, as she spun around.
"Leave. Now."
There wasn't time for a long goodbye, obviously. I was already dead. But despite my clear instructions, she instead knelt down to try and look.
"The fuck you doing?"
"If it's a X43, I can fix it! Or a Munroe Beta, too!"
I never realised how hard it was to maintain the exact same amount of pressure on a foot until then.
"Dammit, it's-"
I sneezed, my foot moved, amd nothing happened.
"A dud."
Unless you were there, you can't really understand why this concert was so important. The band wasn't that huge, but they were passionate, and on this night, in that hot, cramped venue, the 200 audience members all experienced something unique, and all of them left there changed, and all of them formed bands soon after. Most failed, but several didn't, including a few huge bands. That's why this was the most important concert ever.
That, and the noise complaints to the propery owner getting the venue closed, allowing for the redevelopment to start and radically alter the city. That too.
The cop approached the car slowly, taking his time.
"License and registration."
He said this before he got to the car window. When he got to it, his hand went to his hip, fumbling with his gun. After a moment, when he couldn't pull his gun, he ran back to his cruiser and desperately called for backup.
When it arrived, a perimeter was established, guns trained quickly, as the captain got a bullhorn and demanded they put down their weapons and exit with their hands up.
Luckily for them, they were dead from blood loss before the cops opened fire.
The fists had been flying for 14 rounds, and as the bell rang for the final round, the fans were at fever pitch.
The challenger approached first, gloves up. Although he was behind on points, he was obviously fresher and still had more in the tank.
The champ, on the other hand, was, slow, deliberate, and clearly looking to just run out the clock.
The fans, who had been mostly on the side of the champ at the start, were cheering the challenger on as he threw punches.
All that narrative tension, only to end with a broken ankle slip...
I found a hand trowel, which, while being barely bigger than my son's hand, would do.
I found an open patch of grass and moss, which, seeing as it was by a babbling brook, and was a big bigger than my son's body, would do.
I found the digging easy, which, considering how little time I had, plus how distracted I was, would do.
I found my son where I had left him, which, considering no-one was watching him, would do.
I hope if you go to that babbling brook, you find that patch. As a playpen, it will do.
The Ultimate Demon appeared in the circle.
"WHO HAS DARED TO-
WAIT, WHAT?"
It looked down at a small child, dressed in rags, looking up at it with wide eyes.
"HOW DID YOU SUMMON ME?"
The child looked down at the ground, scraps of garbage scattered around in the shape of the language of creation.
"THAT'S THE MARK OF GI...
FINE. WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS, MASTER?"
The small child coughed.
"Uh, make things better."
The Ultimate Demon blinked.
"FOR YOU, YOU MEAN?"
"For Everyone."
The Ultimate Demon sighed, and got to work.
We now worship The Angel Sent By God.
When I opened the hole in the wall coffee shop, she quickly became one of my best customers, at least of those I dealt with. Certainly she understood my working the evening shift, she hated having to set an alarm too.
But it took me far too long to work out who she was. Sure, I was often busy, but even with that excuse, the way she hung out on the street corner most nights, talking to cars that pulled up... I should have seen it earlier.
The perfect late night coffee waitress for drive-up customers, that's all, your honor.
The car slowly pulled up to the curb, quietly parking, all lights darkening as it fell silent.
As the minutes passed, I didn't really pay attention to it as I focused on my work. But I would have noticed movement, and so the longer it was without it, I began to question things somewhat.
Eventually I put down the papers I was reviewing and approached it. I expected to see someone sitting in the driver's seat, maybe sleeping.
Someone was in the seat, but they weren't actually sleeping.
At least they managed to park it safely before things went dark.
When I requested a situation report from the outpost, it came back with a glowing report about all the various readings and data it was collecting.
Except that the data looked very familar, distressingly so.
So I set things in motion, I had various spy facilities train their various outreach arms to examine the base and ordered then to find what it was that they were up to.
All of them came back with the same information, that everything was as they said, and it was all fine.
Unbeknownst to me, I was just expanding their control with each spy.
The Heretic unlocked the final seal holding back The Antigod, and was bathed in fire.
The Heretic found themselves surrounded by lava and fire, and before them, a chintzy little bedroom set, a middle aged looking woman with fire red hair and coal black skin looking at him over a breakfast.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, yes Antigod, I renounced my faith in the Gods when they destroyed my wife and village, they call me The Heretic for trying to awaken you to destroy them!"
"So you're not a Heretic, you just changed your faith?" Auntie God said, standing up.
We were reviewing the requirements for the border crossing with the Elven land.
"So we need to make sure the guard here is incredibly stupid."
"What? Why?"
"We learn more about the Pepper coming in with that, the second guard with an invisibility cloak will observe how they treat the guard."
"But what if they see that guard and change their actions because of that?"
"The third guard observing with the seeing-eye spell will detect that."
"And if they notice them?"
"Then they're powerful enough to be told that they can enter."
"And then the fourth guard watches them?"
"Exactly!"
I knew that, with the way the spell worked, only seconds passing outside the bubble as it flew, it would feel like hours inside it.
So I had prepared, food, water, a waste pouch, and a good book to read, and set off.
The hours inside the bubble passed, and I wasn't worried.
But after I finished the food, and was nearly out of water, I got worried. Despite the risk, I ended the spell to check where I was.
I was at my destination, sure. But the time dilation was reversed, seconds inside the bubble were weeks out here...
I was sipping a beer in the corner of the drinking hole I came to to decompress.
She then sat down opposite me, a soda water in her hand. I went to speak when I saw her face.
I've seen plenty of looks of desperation and fear, but not one so desperate, so afraid.
I went to speak when she grabbed my hand, and stared at me.
I was confused, until a couple of big men entered the drinking hole, looked around, then left through the side door.
"I hope you'll be ok..."
"It's not them."
She stared behind me.
The cat was thin, tired looking, and dressed in rags.
"Please, Tavern Runner, I need food, warmth!"
The innkeeper took a long look at them and sighed.
"I can't just give out stuff for free. I would need you to work for it."
The cat looked the near-human with that unique suspicious look cats had.
"I don't do pest control."
"That's fine."
"Nor am I going to sleep with anyone."
"I'm not running a Cathouse."
The cat hissed.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I need someone to make rags from old clothing."
The cat looked annoyed, but nodded.
I looked over the containment complex arm of the space station through the viewscreen.
"So what if the containment fields fail?"
The technician brought up a display I only glanced at.
"The internal walls are 3 meters thick and made of diamondsteel."
"And if they fail?"
"We can blow the airlocks, and it'll empty the arm of air."
"And if that fails?"
"Then we blow the disengagement ring and detach the arm and allow it to burn up falling into the planet."
"And if that fails?"
"We blow up the station."
"And if that fails?"
"We end the timeline."
"... Good."
The helicopter was hovering over the rooftop, swaying slightly in the wind.
I yelled up at them as they lowered the rope ladder, my voice lost in the roar of the motors, the rush of the wind, and the earplugs they were wearing.
After a few moments, they began to pull the ladder up. I grabbed it, intent on pulling it down so they'd wait, but instead they flew off, forcing me to climb up towards them.
I had hoped to wait for at least one of my fellow zombies to get up with me but I did my best.
The Barbarian had forced his way into the library's inner sanctum, but rather than attacking the wise people and stealing anything shiny, he bellowed he wanted to talk to the wisest about life and its meaning.
The oldest philosophy deepthinker got his attention, sat him down, and they had a quiet conversation for several hours.
Eventually The Barbarian left. The second oldest philosophy deepthinker asked the oldest if he taught the beast anything.
"Actually, he taught me much about what he learned in the afterlife.
Plus what it's like to make love to a dozen princesses at once. Very nice."
The robot would roll past my door just before I'd leave for work, every day. I didn't pay it much mind, every public space large enough to accumulate grime had a cleaning robot, what was one more?
Then came the day where, my morning stabilisers were, I found out later, contaminated due to a leak in one of the pipes to my pod. At the time, I was just feeling terrible and struggling to get ready, when the robot paused and knocked.
When I finally opened the door, it offered what looked like a stabiliser.
It was a rebels wake-uper.
"Putting aside the issue of the beaver dam-"
"Putting aside? Why are we putting aside the entire point of this adjudication, he put the beavers-"
"Because we need to discuss the issue of the mice."
"Mice? What mice?"
"The mice you put into my property!"
"Oh what nonsense, I never-"
"I have the report here of the independent nature investigator. He assures me that both the beavers and the mice have made their homes naturally, thus no-one is at fault for anything. Now, he could investigate further, if you want."
"Uh, no, fine."
"I'd like that."
"Oh good, you're innocent."
