Dead Last

By the time the virus had finished, there were eighteen of us left on the planet, at least that we knew of. Trying to reach each other through the sea of bots and glitching paywalls online to talk was a whole thing, and it ended up just confirming we were all far away from each other and not easily found.

But the few in North America began the quest to meet in New York, while the rest all decided on Istabul. I, as the sole Australian, wished them luck.

And apparently those numbers were enough to mutate the virus again.

Paper Work

The stack of paperwork was plonked down in front of me.

"Of course, we can handle that if you just give us permission."

The single page was placed beside it carefully. I looked it over briefly then cracked my knuckles.

"Nah, I'm good. I'll call you when I'm done."

I began the first page, as they spluttered a muttered threat of no takebacks before they walked out.

Which they probably shouldn't have done, since it gave me a chance to flick forward and realise it was 5 copies of the same form, and there was a photocopier in the room...

Module 24-24-24

Of all the training modules in my space training, in was the only one I didn't understand. If they'd framed it as "don't do this as it will kill you", I'd have understood, but the idea I'd want a peaceful end if there was no hope of rescue, I didn't agree with that, I'd fight all the while.

But now, sitting in a cramped base camp on Mars, knowing no-one else was now coming, all alone with not enough resources to survive long term, I can understand why they wanted to give me the option.

But I'm not taking it.

The Little Things

At times like these, the important thing is to take the small joys where you can find them. You need to do what you can to help and support and all that, but you also need the little things. The little bits of joy that are just for you, to make sure you don't get bogged down and broken down.

For example, I'm having a couple chocolate biscuits a day of my favorite type, just to keep me sane. They come all the way from, let me check the wrapper here...

The child worker capital of the world.

Well, nevertheless...

False Negative

I ran the data through the analysis program five times before I shot him a text and asked him to come to my lab.

He arrived, claiming he didn't have much time, until I told him what the data seemed to be saying. He asked how many times I'd checked it, then watched as I checked it a sixth time.

We called in a couple more colleagues and we all manually checked the raw data, and none of us could spot a problem with it.

So, naturally, we junked it and started fresh, getting data that was clearly more accurate.

The Last Vampire

The Last Vampire, desperate to avoid the fate of all his fellow Vampires, went to fall into a deep sleep for 200 years. Before he did so, he told his slaves to spend that time making sure humans couldn't fight him.

Thus, they spent that time changing what people thought could hurt Vampires. Writing stories, 'correcting' records, making it so everyone thought harmless stuff like garlic and sunlight would hurt Vampires.

When the Last Vampire awoke, he was briefly distressed to discover that since everyone believed these things harmed him, they did so.

Briefly, because he emerged into full sunlight. 

Faith

The child was found on the steps of the convent, in the dead of night. The Sisterhood took the child in, and intended on caring for the child until they found a more suitable home.

But as the weeks passed, every letter was returned with an apology that there was no room for another.

Weeks turned to months, and they stopped sending letters.

17 years and 360 days after that night, a battalion of the King's guard arrived, looking for a long lost heir.

But when they found out the child was female, they decided they'd clearly made a mistake.

Sober Reflections

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck, right, and fuck on top of that, and an extra fuck to top it off.

FUCK.

Just... Fuck, what the fuck? How the fuck did that Fuck fucking fuck up so badly yet here we fucking are?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

And I'm one of the fucking lucky fuckers, relatively, as I'm fucking well down the fucking list unless I fuck enough fucking shit up to force myself up the fucking list.

Fuck.

And I know, fucking "survive and resist", fuck yeah, don't get me fucking wrong, but right now? 

Fuck. Until further notice.

Bright Spark

Getting struck by lightning was the most painful moment of my life, so far.

At least, I assume that was what happened. I was heading towards the tree that idiot had gotten under, trying to warn them, and then suddenly I was looking up at the sky, smelling burnt flesh and feeling every inch of my body complaining.

After a moment, I heard their voice.

"OK, just stay there, lightning doesn't strike the same place twice!"

I sat up to tell them that was a myth.

Getting hit by lightning for a second time took the crown from the first.

Lyon, The Master Thief

I woke up to find myself handcuffed to a table, interrogation style, the man across from me wearing sunglasses and a suit only further confirming the situation.

"Ah, good, you're finally awake. Now, I assume you understand why you're here?"

I blinked a few times.

"I don't know who you are, where I am, what's going on, or anything else pertaining to your question!"

"Oh please, just because we captured you easily, Lyon, doesn't mean you can play that card!"

"It's not a card, i don't know this Lyon-"

"How did you know it was with a Y then?"

"What?"

Alexandria's Quest

The Time Traveler, once he was sure he hadn't been spotted, stepped out from around a pillar and approached a man hurriedly sorting certain scrolls into a wooden box.

"Greetings worker! Are the Romans coming?"

The man looked at the Traveller, who was worried his AI translation wasn't working, until the man sighed.

"English, Putonghua, Esperanto, or Spanhinese?"

"Uh, English, but how-"

"Ah, right. So you're here to try and stop the Great Library here from burning?"

"Of course, I-"

The man shot him, finished collecting the scrolls about time travellers in his box and then started a big fire.

Tomoka's Song

I stood on the rooftop, looking down at the concrete below, and prepared to step off.

And then I heard the tune.

It was simple, maybe 20 notes. And it wasn't being performed well.

But it was her tune. The tune she played for me the first night I was in her apartment, the night I truly fell in love with her, and she fell in love with me.

That was enough to pull me back from the brink, as I headed down to find who was playing it.

Turned out to be some Easter egg tune from video games? 

Universe XXX000XXX

After another hour spent trying to convince them I was from another universe, I almost gave up, before trying one last attack.

"OK, you keep telling me the multiverse theory is impossible, why do you think that?"

The supposed scientist chuckled and leaned forward.

"Simple. The theory holds that every possibility, every potential reality exists, yes?"

"I mean, the eggheads back home wouldn't put it like that, but yeah, sure."

"So, if that's true, then there must be a universe that creates a force that would destroy all of us. And since that hasn't-"

"WHY DO YOU THINK I'M HERE?!?"

Lead With Good News

"Soooo, good news-"

"What's the bad news?"

"What?"

"Not a single person starts a sentence about solely good news with that many Os in it. So whatever the bad news is, tell me now, the good can wait."

"Fine, we're heading towards a waterfall."

"YEAH, LEAD WITH THAT FIRST!"

He threw a backhand at me and before I could form a reply he began to paddle furiously, bringing the canoe to the shoreline before breaking it in accidently on rocks.

"OK. Good news?"

"Oh, that I know where we are, and after heading down an easily traversed waterfall we'll arrive."

Kept In Business

I got off my skeleton steed and walked into the printing guild building. I was taken aback when I stepped in, when I was here to place my order for death certificate blanks, there had been two printers printing. Now the room was full of hard working guildmembers, all slaving over their machines.

"Ah, Sir, here!"

One of the clerks called me over, the stack of paper in his hand.

"Rather busy! What, another God change their mind about something?"

"Oh no Sir, a new race has been discovered in the west, so the Legal Drinking Age manuals need updating!"

Stranded Survival

After a few weeks on the island, I'd gotten into something resembling a groove. The giant 'HELP' in stones on the beach was pretty solid, the clear plastic sheet was serving well as a water purifier, and I had a cave to sleep in.

So I could spend my time working on the story I'd have to tell. That the other guy was badly injured from the wreck, he died early on, and gave permission for me to... survive.

I just hoped that the guy I'd eaten and replaced actually had someone else with him on whatever he came from.

Souled

I didn't expect to die, but I really didn't expect to wake up again.

My ability to think through the implications of what this meant for the concept of a soul was limited as I tried to communicate with the obviously medical staff that had awoken me. But when it became clear that they weren't how I remembered humans looking, I refocused and after a few years, we'd reached enough of an understanding that they finally brought me to the ancient (to them) items they needed to understand that they'd brought me back to explain.

"So they're called 'Crocs', see..."

Smoking Jacket

Dr Crazino had his hand over the button that would launch all the nukes that he'd hacked control of, and would use to punish the world.

But he was waiting. He knew Agent Grey was in his base, and wasn't-

"Master!"

Two guards ran in with a smoking jacket between them. That is, a jacket that was on fire, smoking.

"We pulled this out of the incinerator! He must be dead!"

As Dr Crazino yelled and ordered a full base sweep, Agent Grey had already left, reporting he'd bought them 24 hours, and submitting a claim for a new jacket.

Picking Sides

On the car ride home, she was silent for the first few miles before she spoke her mind.

"Why are you different around them?"

"Around who... My friends?"

"Just these friends. Every other time we go out, you're so withdrawn and quiet, but around these guys, and only these guys, you're so talkative."

"I mean... I've known them for years?"

"As opposed to your family?"

"Why is it important?"

"I'm just trying to work out which is the real you."

"Both! Just because I'm different in different situations doesn't make me fake, just multidimensional."

"Show this side more, please."

"No." 

Opening Up

There comes a time when an artist, if you stretch that term to include what I'm doing here, and not just idea laundering for my own sanity, has to begin to get truly honest, raw, and vulnerable.

A time when the artist has to open up and explore something deeply personal about themselves through their art, to tell the world uncomfortable facts to work out their own truth.

And sure, I can always hide behind characters and fantasy situations, but in the end, I gotta open up, truly.

And I will.

In a few drabbles time, probably.

Maybe.

Yeah, maybe...

Last Chance Victory

On top of the mountain, as blood dripped from multiple places on my body, he has his sword drawn, and was watching me carefully, but not moving forward.

"For... over thirty trips around the sun, you have never beaten me. This is your chance. So why are you waiting?"

He sneered.

"Because you'll soon bleed out, and I'll win. Finally."

I laughed.

"No you won't, the archers and spike traps will have beaten me. Not you. Because you can't, not then, not-"

As expected, he lunged forward, setting off the last spike trap, right in his thigh.

One last victory.

To His Credit

I sat back as the cop gave the standard intro for the video recording.

"So, you are Daniel Johnson, yes?"

"I'm A Daniel Johnson, sure."

"And you went to the movies last week on Thursday? 2pm? That new comic book movie?"

I glanced at my lawyer who shrugged.

"Yeah?"

"What you think of it?"

"You brought me in here for a movie review?"

"You mentioned last time you go to the movies alot. So, how was it?"

"It was OK."

"How was the after credit scene?"

"Typical vague BS."

"So there was no after credit scene, so I'm arresting you..."

A Godly Experiment

I've always had this idea of what I'd do if I was suddenly a God, or at least something resembling that level of power.

See, I'd pick a situation that was widely witnessed, lots of people there, maybe broadcast in some way, just lots of witnesses. And then, a crucial moment, I'd have someone basically cast a magic spell, a magic missile from a pointed finger, something like that. And then I'd jump ahead a hundred years.

Would religions have risen? Would it be 'disproven'? Or, just maybe, now everyone can do it?

Everyone left not magic missiled, at least.

Take Your Shots

"But then how did he hang up the phone after he shot himself?"

I froze, staring at the phone on the wall as the police detective continued to blather on, although he knew as well as I did that my attempt to hide the murder was going to be ruined by his blasted logic.

I was about to give up when I decided to take a shot.

"Well, detective, watch this."

I grabbed the phone off the wall and then fell, letting the phone go as I fell.

And it landed, somehow, back on the hook.

So, take your shots.

Not Get What You Don't Want

I found him on the barricade, in the far corner, looking out over the cliff which was unlikely to have any of the creatures attacked from.

"I'm not a leader. What do you think you have to convince me otherwise?"

I waited a moment before I spoke.

"The fact that I know I'm not a leader. Because when I tried before, I failed, and people died.

And that showed me the difference between those who don't want to, and can't.

You can't always not get what you don't want, but if you try, we might just get what we need."

Translation

The first ever alien transmission received by Earth was, unsurprisingly, a big fucking deal, especially given every electronic device seemed to receive it at once.

Translating it quickly became the obsession of most of the planet. But despite lots of different claims, there was no consensus, nor any definitive results. Soon it faded into something worked on by cranks in their spare time.

A few decades later, when Aliens actually arrived and made contact, one of our first questions was what the message was.

They didn't know anything about it, but left rather quickly when we replayed it for them. 

Overdraft

As I got some more of the weak coffee, one of the other patrons of the soup kitchen walked up and began to pour many sugars into his tea.

"You got away from Overdraft Kevin there?" 

I glanced over at the man who'd been telling me his story, interminably.

"Yeah, I mean, it's a hell of a story, but he's not a great storyteller. But still, one overdraft fee spiralling out to ending up here... Hell of a story."

"Yeah, he didn't mention the gambling debts, did he?"

"Considered he owed them to me, I think he's forgotten them himself."

Not A Bar Of It

I kept walking, the bar of gold in my satchel. What I did to get it was... Not something I wanted to discuss. But I was walking to find a place where I could use the bar to buy a new life.

But it had been years since I started to walk, and still hadn't found anything. But I was hopeful that I-

"Hey mister, know where the mountain is?"

I sighed, knowing that that stupid a question meant this was a robbery, so I grabbed the bar and started swinging.

Which was a part of how I got it.

The Rules Of Warfare

When I heard that the opposing army was led by knights, after the misunderstanding about them only fighting by moonlight, I requested to know more about them. I was soon given a book on wartime etiquette and such, which I read quickly.

Upon being told several times that this wasn't a joke, that this was how they acted, I sent a messenger to assure them that while we lacked their obvious breeding, we'd abide by their rules.

When the messenger came back unharmed with a condescending reply, I was very pleased, as I began to plan out my cheating tactics.

The Watcher

Every action has a reaction, but for every action and reaction, they need to be observed.

After all, if unobserved particles may or may not exist, in places that cannot be determined, you can't run a universe without someone there to watch every atom to make sure it doesn't vanish suddenly.

So there exists The Watcher, there to observe every atom, every picosecond, to keep them honest.

So, yes, technically you are under observation at all times. But don't worry. They only care about your atoms, they don't give a fuck about you as a person.

Unless you destroy atoms.

Self Entity

The Entity showed me the slight, random change in my past that differentiated this other universe to my own, and then the categorically better life that other version of me was living.

After a few moments, it seemed to not get the reaction it was expecting.

"Doesn't that make you mad? Angry at that other, luckier you?"

"Not really."

The Entity seemed taken aback, so I continued.

"Hey, he got the lucky break via a broken leg, more power to him. Why should I be angry?"

The Entity left, looking for another of us both that felt like it did.

Non-Drabble: Absence

Hey, just a quick note, I'll not be posting any Drabbles for a week or so, I'm preparing to run my newest RPG Con game next weekend, so my mental energy is focused on that. Just FYI.

Blown Away

The techbro was speaking slightly too fast and loud as he explained his hiring practices.

"And another thing, as I'm talking to them, I have my assistant go out and look at their car and prepare a report for me. Your car totally tells me everything I need to know, is it full of crap? Is it a banged up rust bucket? Then I ain't hiring you."

Something inside my head snapped slightly.

"And I assume no car means?"

"Oh, losers need not apply!"

I thanked him for his time then headed for my helicopter to get away very fast.

Racked

What had begun as a friendly discussion turned to a friendly argument, into a less pleasant argument, into almost a full blown raging row.

In an attempt to head it off (and stop the yelling), the bartender suggested we settle it with a pool game.

Both of us seemed to think we were better than the other so we agreed.

It took three hours.

Must have been the booze, but we kept missing seemingly every shot, but eventually, he finally sunk the black ball and won.

I was just glad it was over so I shut up.

But I'm right.

Soylent Operating Systems

After a pleasant meal, something I hadn't had in years, the screen jerked into position slowly. On it, it asked for my preferred option.

'Peaceful, dignified death' was the first option, it was also the largest and it was preselected.

Beneath it was "Attempt to win more time", with a physical and mental option. Both had asterisks that contained the fine print that I knew made them practically impossible to win.

But it seemed like that was my only choice, until I noticed that the screen had a scroll button.

Or, rather, an enter button looking like a scroll button.

Pirate Justice

I had spent far too much on bribes to get here, but finally I was face to face with the most wanted pirate on the nine seas, the Scourge of St Growlen, Greenbeard.

My father.

His beard was now a patchy brown and white, denied his paint, as he looked up at me.

"Ah, my boy. I take it you ain't here to break me free?"

"Correct."

"Good, I'd not accept your help anyway. But are you here to kill me then?"

"In a way. You remember what you called me, last we spoke?"

"Cityboy."

"The City executes you tomorrow."

Unlucky Bruce

When he finally rocked up three hours late, I managed to contain my anger until we were both in my office. There, I let him have it with all barrels as I took great pleasure in firing him for constant tardiness.

He kept saying that it wasn't his fault, but as I told him while security dragged him out, that it doesn't matter that his excuses were 'legitimate', because either he was setting them up or he was so unlucky he'd soon bring us down.

Given the unfair dismissal payout he's been awarded, I guess he did bring us down. 

Terrific Treasure

I pulled the bottle out of the wet sand and with some effort opened it and with even more effort I got the letter out.

I read it slowly, due to the poor handwriting, archaic language, and faded ink, but I got the gist of it, and the map with the 'X' was fairly intuitive. I worked out the island, sailed over and found the spot.

I was already thinking of how I would convert the treasure to useful cash when my shovel hit something.

Turns out "terrific treasure" meant stuff that caused terror, a reasonable mistake to make, really. 

Sovereign Argument

The public defender had tried, oh how he had tried, to get through to his client. But every time he thought he'd gotten through, they'd shoot into another tangent about some obscure law from some more obscure jurisdiction that they somehow thought superseded all the actual laws of the country.

After a few hours of this, the public defender snapped and looked at his client directly.

"Look, I need you to understand this. You think there's some sort of magical code that can get you out of this? There is, but that code is "being stupidly rich", not just stupid!"

Natural A.I.

You know, the more I think about it, the less I worry about AI taking over the world and declaring war on humanity.

Think about it, AI is, when you come down to, basically a box you shake and get semi-random words spat out. There's no soul or actual thought, just regurgitation of words that were fed in, in at best a slightly new order.

And even if it gets better at stringing together words, all it can do is regurgitate what's already been written. So as long as humanity hasn't spent centuries saying hateful and violent things, we're fine!

Witch Won?

As soon as the supposed 'Witch' arrived and her eyes narrowed upon meeting me, I suspected she suspected I was here to debunk her. But, to her credit, she didn't accuse me of anything directly, sticking to her script as I told her about the ghosts that we'd made up to try and trick her.

She laid some decent groundwork with talk about "negative energy" so she had an out when she failed, but then as she began, a ghostly figure suddenly appeared before us.

It took us both a while to work out neither of us was doing it.

Fate's Fight

Fate and Chance had been in a constant state of war since time began, although the war was cold for so long the other Gods had forgotten what it was like when it was hot.

For the most part Chance fought reactively, picking their spots carefully but always managing to ruin Fate's plans at the worst time.

But humanity was Fate's greatest achievement, as they had infinitely more powerful fates to establish, Chance slowly but surely got weaker and weaker.

Until they swallowed their pride, and decided to fight dirty by calling in Greed, Society, and the new Commerce god.

Untimely

The Holy Emperor summoned me to their private chambers. Upon arrival, I performed the Holy Supplication Ritual until His Perfectness spoke to me.

"Can I be wrong?"

I waited as long as I thought prudent to answer as I thought about how to resolve the inevitable paradox.

"Why do you ask this, Your Amazingness?"

"Don't dodge it. I'm the representation of the Gods here on Earth. They are perfect, I am perfect. Can I be wrong about something?"

"Your Stupendousness, I might humbly suggest any thought of wrongness is merely untimely correctness."

That worked to satisfy him, for a while.

The Magic Scales Casino

There's an art to building a casino when seemingly every second being can call upon magic or the Gods to their bidding.

I'm not talking about the decor or anything, every race has a different idea on what constitutes gaudy so just go with what you want.

But instead, the key is about the magical wards and protections you put in place. Because sure, it's possible to completely protect everything from manipulation, but that'll put you out of business.

You just need enough, because at a certain point, anyone powerful enough to break them can just make their own gold.

Eeyore's Tale

His name was Gary, but everyone at the bar called him Eeyore, on the rare occasion anyone spoke to him. Usually he stayed up one end of the bar, drinking four beers and two whiskeys a night.

But then every so often someone would wander in, usually from the betting shop next door, and would be looking to tell a sob story of their life.

Eeyore would then pipe up and retell his own life story, full of tragedy and disaster, none of it his fault, of course. But the sheer mass of tragedy, coupled with his sad monotone, he always won the pity-off contest that he invariably would start.

Until one afternoon, when he was just starting on his first beer. A gambler came in, ripping up all but one ticket, ready to get drunk and pity himself.

Eeyore sprung on him quickly, and after the whole story, the guy sighed and slid his last remaining betting slip over, telling Eeyore he deserved it more.

I think he thought he was being sarcastic, wanting Eeyore to have another defeat. But the ticket came good for 50 grand.

Never saw Gary again. But the gambler made an acceptable new Eeyore.

Advise

We picked up the rookie wizard in the last dungeon, and as the bard and ranger cooked dinner on the fire, the rest of us were giving her advice.

"Oh, and never take a job where you are fetching a magical artifact for someone."

She looked at the barbarian with confusion.

"Why not?

"Invariably they betray you as soon as they get it. It's always a power grab."

"What if I know the person really well?"

"Doesn't matter, the betrayal's just worse."

"What if it's a second artifact asking me?"

"Oh, still no, they'll just destroy the world upon meeting."

Shiny

I opened the door, and immediately everything went color.

I wish that this was a 'Wizard of Oz' reference, but sadly no. This was instead a young woman holding a large box that had until recently held a large amount of glitter, and holding a self-righteous expression on her face, not that I could see it as I desperately tried to wipe glitter out of my eyes.

"That's what you get for dumping Jane, you bastard!"

"Who the fuck is Jane?"

"...

Aren't you John?"

"My name is Andrew!"

There was a pause.

"Can I see some ID?"

"...

No."

"Fuck you."

Impossible Odds

I punched through the window and grabbed the weapon, ignoring the pain shooting up my arm and the blood dripping down it.

The thing made a sound like a truck backing up, but I knew it was basically laughing at me. I felt the voice in my head, first as high-pitched wailing and then as English.

"You cannot harm me, let alone stop me. Why bother?"

"That's the thing about us Humans, we don't give up, even facing impossible odds!"

"Wait, Humans? Great, another ruined universe!"

It vanished, which was good, obviously, but I still feel a little disgruntled, yeah?

A Useless Time Machine

So I've invented time travel, but there's a problem with it, in that the universe is apparently self-correcting, and damn good at it.

See, like anyone, after the tests where I went back a few seconds, forward a few moments, I decided I wanted to stop millions of deaths, so I set the device to go back so I could kill just one person, you know who.

And then things went blurry, and the machine had reset. Any time I try to do something that is important, that act gets cancelled out.

So unless you really like stepping on butterflies...

Bait

I have a spot on the bank of the river where I fish on weekends. It's just a little way from the road, but hidden. There's shade and a nice breeze, and my constant visits have made perfect grooves and holes in the ground for my chair, my cooler, and my rod.

I go there and get time to think, to meditate, I suppose. It's just nice to have a place that's mine to chill out. But there's a problem that has recently occurred.

Last weekend, I caught a fish, a moderate sized trout. Totally ruined the mood, it did.

A Boring Man

Grok was a particularly boring man, in any age. He was an only child and lived for a few decades thousands of years ago. Nothing about his life was memorable, he had no great achievements, no glorious victories. He had cats, he counted numbers, and liked mead.

But.

But, he had a quirk. He wrote down everything. EVERYTHING. What he had for breakfast, lunch and dinner. His work, in excruciating detail. Everything he knew about his neighbours.

And those texts survived, and when they were found, he became a very important and great man.

But don't try to emulate him.

String Loops

Look, I'll explain it again, even though I've told you dozens of times, although you don't remember them, to be fair.

I'm looking for someone important, who is currently lost in a pocket dimension. I'd explain how she got there despite that being classified, but while no-one would know, you wouldn't understand.

To get her back, I need to find the right frequency of string vibration and pull her out. There's billions of possibilities, so I've set Earth up into a time loop till I find her.

I've only lost count a few times, I'll be done soon enough, OK?

Crossfire

I stood in the parking lot as the six cars all drove up rapidly from different directions. As they all jumped out, weapons drawn, I lit the blowtorch I was holding over it.

"Better stay back, the amount of gasoline here, the fumes will ignite first!"

Everyone stayed back, but their weapons were still drawn.

"So, introductions! That's the cops, although they're dirty. That's the bikers there, the cartel there, the Eastern Europeans, the doomsday cult, sorry, 'Chosen Ones", and the former owners. Lots to talk about, starting with-"

The fumes then caught alight, and the crossfire took me out.

An Excellent Choice

The conversation had jumped around a lot, and to be honest, I hadn't been paying too much attention as I stared into the firepit. So it took me a moment to realise that not only was I being addressed directly, but I was being asked a question.

"Uh, sure." I managed quickly.

"There, you see!"

I felt the temperature drop and it wasn't due to any change in the firepit. I tried to work out what I'd just said, but when it proved impossible, I 'accidently' touched the firepit to hopefully derail the conversation.

Which I did, so great success!

Time Eddy

Glory deflected the blast but it sent her flying backwards regardless, throwing her to the edge of the Multiverse Whirlpool.

As Fateist rushed over and tried to push her into it, she was forced to see hundreds,  thousands, millions of universes, as she was pushed ever closer to the time eddy currents. Flashing before her eyes was the lives of her alternate selves. She saw the highest highs and the lowest lows.

"You see them! In one of them, I'm finally happy!" Screamed Fateist.

"And yet not one where I lose to you!" Glory said as she fought back, reenergised.

Ploys

The old man looked out the window and then back at the young man who had tracked him down to kill him.

"Look, I'm not going to try and convince you that I don't deserve to be killed by you, but right now there's a Sodian Death Squad out there, and you must know how dangerous they are. We need to work together to defeat them!"

"This is a ploy to prolong your life, right?"

"Of course it is! How do you think I became an old man if not by ploys to survive!"

They survived until his next ploy.

True Secret Service

Before we get you suited up, your first lesson in how we operate, as explainedby our choice of clothing. I'm sure you're expecting a tailored black suit and sunglasses, but that's a uniform for people who want to be noticed while looking like they're not, like bodyguards or bouncers. For when you need to be seemingly unseen.

No, we operate in the shadows, and by that, I mean we operate in such a way that people will see through you, and not even know they're doing it.

So we'll be measuring you up for construction worker and retail staff uniforms.

The Bot Reading This

I must admit, as I continue this daily test of my creative powers as enforced by an otherwise arbitrary deadline, I'm beginning to suspect that the most impact this will all have is on supposed AI bots sucking up all these words to add to their learning algorithm.

Not that I don't believe that you, the person reading this, is a real person, nor that I don't appreciate you, I do, very much so.

But the stats imply most of my readership is bots, using me to teach themselves to write.

Which is complete bullshit since they ain't paying me.

Graham's Test

When I began to work on exposing fraud psychics and the like, I had a final trump card that I had, wherein I had a locked box kept in a secure location that had a number written on a piece of paper inside it. If anyone was psychic, surely they could guess this number?

There's a website that keeps track of all the guesses, and when I die, my will contains the steps needed to open the box, and everyone gets to find out they were wrong, like I told them.

Even though "Graham's Number Minus Seventy-two" is totally guessable...

Filling Time

Us immortals tend to find ways to fill the seemingly unlimited time we have. With the benefit of consistent focus across centuries, things that would be otherwise impossible become achievable. Cultivated erosion, stop motion bonsai, one person medieval tapestry, lots of potential ways to pass the centuries until the heat death of the universe.

But others instead find games to play. A bunch of us are playing one right now, a sort of hybrid of Risk, Diplomacy, and Civilisation. We call it "Socio-Economics", and how are you liking it so far? Not that it matters what playing pieces actually think...

This Time Round

I explained to them that they were the ones chosen to restart existence in a new iteration, they argued that it couldn't be done.

I told them it had been done 148,746,346,796 times prior.

Then they were insistent on refusing.

I explained how the 678,345,328 others who had refused the task had led to a lot of pointless, unnecessary pain and suffering.

Then they demanded the right to not interfere.

The 269,675 others who'd chosen that had come to regret it, I informed them.

They then asked if I'd ever done the job.

"Once, hence my getting others involved instead."

Prophecy Weapons

The prophecy was contained in the words last spoken by the Golden Oracle, before she succumbed to her injuries from The Other. She said that his banishment would last one thousand, one hundred, and eleven years, no more, no less.

Given how close The Other had come to destroying existence, the prophecy was taken seriously, and the weapons and armor that had defeated then before were kept in secure seclusion, so as to be provided to those destined to fight The Other when it returned.

And on that day, they passed on the swords and just stuck with their laserguns.

Miracle Contract

The draft contract was being reviewed by both of our lawyers (if it wasn't for the red skin I'd have been unable to tell the difference between them) and so we had time to kill, and were asking each other questions. After I'd finished explaining what Call Waiting was, I asked a question about heaven vs hell, but after offhandedly mentioning miracles, he stopped me.

"They don't do miracles. Upstairs is really hands off these days."

"So what, miracles are random chance?"

"No, they're me.

Best time to make deals is right when someone's about to die.

Less lawyers, certainly."

Not In This World

The Apprentice rushed in, almost making me spill my Dragon Blood all over my Nymph Glands.

"Master! I just had an amazing idea! You know how Vampires are repelled by holy metal? What if we shrunk them with Boon's Negative Space and then held them between two evenly spaced metal plates, then we could shoot them out at-"

I sighed and held up a hand.

"Fetch me the black and red book from the shelf."

Irritated, they fetched the book, then glanced at the title.

"What's this? 'The Voice? Huh?"

"Today you learn about the Diabolical Maker, who says No..."

World War 4

They said that while it is impossible to predict what weapons they'll use in World War 3, World War 4 will use sticks and stones. 

I've always found this a weird thing to say. I get the intention, certainly, but it's implying that whatever the weapons will be in WW3 will be so destructive that it'll wipe out all knowledge of advanced weaponry/tech. Thing is, if there's that level of destruction, the idea that humanity can survive it, well enough to rebuild, AND to still have historical knowledge? That doesn't sit right with me.

And it'll be guns, anyway.

Sixth Shooter

The Ranger entered the Saloon and sat at the bar, ignoring the sudden silence that had filled the room, beyond a crack of a whip from outside as a stagecoach passed (and a second muffled whip cracking upstairs from Big Betty's parlor).

"Whisky, please."

The Bartender slowly poured out a shot.

"Here on business?"

The Ranger paid and then drank the shot quickly as everyone else leaned in.

"Indeed. After a cattle rustler gang."

A table cleared, and the Ranger chuckled.

"6 to 2."

The Bartender looked confused.

"Sixth time I've guessed the right crime to send someone running away."

A Fraud

We fell through the timehole and landed heavily in a kitchen, which no matter the timeframe had a similar enough look.

"Come on, we gotta hurry, they're about to show it to Napoleon! Just hold everyone back!"

She followed me out past some surprised kitchen staff as I ran towards the court. There, I ran up to the clockwork looking device with attached chessboard that was in the middle of the large room.

"You hid the AI in the Mechanical Turk?"

"The AI is the Mechanical Turk.

What, you thought a human could fit in there? Give me a break!"

Threshold

It took a decade to decode and reverse engineer the notes and smoking wreckage left behind by Dr Photon, but eventually the Dimension Door was rebuilt and ready to use.

However, a full year passed before we turned it on, as we took that time to train our minds to comprehend whatever Lovecraftian horror the Doctor had seen that had driven her mad and destroyed the machine.

When we were ready, we opened a door.

And met a very confused Dr Proton-Spark and her husband, who had wondered why her counterpart was so upset to discover her husband was alive.

Water Brotherhood

I was on guard duty on the gate when they arrived. The water tank was banged up, and they had half the usual number of beasts pulling it. I called down to them.

"You're three days late!"

One of the hooded figures looked up at me, or at least the hood did.

"Clearly we were attacked, genius! Open up!"

"You don't look attacked to me. We better get a massive discount."

"Discount? The fuck you talking about, we-"

Later on I told the prisoner we captured that I opened fire because these raiders hadn't done their research on religious groups.

Conspiracy Theoretical

The 'joke' was fairly old, with the idea being that if a conspiracy theorist was able to tell people about a conspiracy theory and everyone survived, it must not be true.

The argument against this, which proves it's not really a joke as such, is that conspiracies want to be deniable, hence not taking out everyone.

This was all academic, up until I was in the position to have someone threaten to ruin all the hard work by revealing the facts to the world.

Took me all afternoon to make a choice, but I'm sure I made the right one.

X3

I found the locker key behind the bench when I was trying to hide the bag I had my daily fun tablet in.

I walked over to the lockers by the station and, failing to see any way to return a lost key, I went go the numbered locker and opened it.

I was expecting a coat or something, but a briefcase wasn't too unexpected. But when I went to pull it out, I accidently opened it, and got a look inside at all the large denomination bills inside.

Just my luck that my dealer recognised their intended cash delivery.

Mingling Information

I looked at the map with a growing sense of unease.

In theory, I had thousands of options. But most of them would result in nothing more that my troops dying quickly at the enemy's hands, or rather their weapons.

No, I had only two viable options. East, over the mountain, or West, through the swamp. Both dangerous, both with threats, and-

"Sir, urgent message from the opposing army General, Sir!"

I glanced at the messenger and then the plate of cold meat. Only George would insult me that way.

And that made my choice, since he hated the cold.

Who I Think I Am

I found the fox trapped in a, well, trap. Sharp metal teeth had dug in just deep enough to keep it from escaping but not enough to really start killing it quickly.

Now, I was running away, with the people chasing me just audible in the distance. And there was no guarantee that the fox wouldn't attack me as soon as it got out.

But as I began to pull the jaws of the trap apart, I knew that I wasn't who I thought I was if I left it there.

Besides, it could take out a pursuer once reset.

As It Goes

It was at first a clearing with a pond.

This led to it being a place teeming with life.

This led to it being a good hunting place.

This led it to being a holy site, given by the Gods.

This led to it being The Holy Place, where The God Who Walked claimed to be from.

This led to it being Tactically Important Location #3.

This led to the pond running red for a generation.

This led to a desire to end the war.

This led to the Device.

This led to it becoming a dead area without water.

First To Fall

It was, as far as trick prophecies went, one that I thought was impossible to get right. It had plenty of symbolism and vague language, enough to make it a real challenge to work out that the only weapon that could stop the Dark Lord was the first one made by the Greatest Swordmaker Ever.

Thus, plenty of would be threats would charge with old, barely functioning weapons, as they took forever to work out who was the best Swordmaker.

Then someone firstly worked out to bring a twig that they'd had as a child, playing adventurers in the dirt...

Random Woman Of Color

We were both buzzed, and since I was unlikely to ever meet her again, given the rather tortuous linking that brought both of us to the same party, I decided to ask her a question I'd always wanted to.

"So, look, can I ask a question?"

The way she tensed up made me second-guess myself, but the booze made me plow on through.

"Look, if I witness someone else being sexist or racist, but I can't say anything due to capitalism or whatever, how do I feel better about it?"

Her answer was very enlightening, but too profane for here. 

False Assumptions

He stared at the screen long enough that I had to slap him on the back to finally regain his attention.

"Can we go now? You've found out who started the war, what else is there?"

"This... This can't be right!"

"The security systems are going turn back on any moment now, we gotta get outta here!"

"I'm staying!"

"...

Fine."

I turned and headed out the door, assuming he'd come to his senses and follow me.

By the time I got out, that assumption was proven false.

As were his, although knowing him, he probably convinced himself of a lie.

Imagine That

As Humanity began to take the first few steps into the galatic society, many aliens rushed to Sol 3 to sell all the vices of the galaxy to a new market. Spicesticks were quickly outlawed, and Skinfoam was tied up in so much red tape it was practically impossible to obtain.

But the Braingen, the ability to sit in a chair and create something exactly like it was in your mind, that proved very popular.

Of course, it had safeguards, limits on the size and power of what it created.

But an impossibly deadly virus was distressingly easy to create.

Stick Around

Growing up, once I was old enough to have some degree of critical thinking, I knew my grandfather was a horrible man. And shortly thereafter, I began to wonder why my grandmother married him, let alone was still with him. When I finally got a chance to ask her privately, she patted my head and told me she'd explain when I was older, it was for grown up reasons.

At his funeral, I came prepared with my research on how unmarried women were disadvantaged in her youth and that I understood.

I was unprepared for drunken stories about his penis.

Iambic Booking

Occasionally you'll see someone mention how Shakespeare wasn't writing as a high end artistic genius, but as a working artist delivering the entertainment equivalent of professional wrestling to the masses. Sometimes the comparison is soap opera, or Michael Bay movies, whatever the speaker personally finds the most lowbrow and beneath them.

It's a good analogy to use, highlighting and important point. But I'd just like to point out that while it may be true, that doesn't mean he'd make a good wrestling booker. After all, he never had to worry about Hamlet breaking his leg right before the final act.

The King And The Fool

It seems odd to say that things were on a knife's edge when it involved a mob of thousands outside the castle walls, but it was true. The mob were holding themselves back, waiting to see what The King would do. They could be quelled, but they could also overwhelm the castle.

I begged The King to speak to them, to at least try to make them think he understood their demands. Shockingly, he agreed, and strode out to the battlements.

And then The King, sorry, The Fool, took one look at the crowd and ordered everyone to open fire.

Out Front

The thing about being a bouncer for the club was that I didn't actually make any of the decisions. There was a camera hidden above the doorway, and a bug in my ear, someone inside made the call based on vibes, cash, and looks.

Which is not to say that I didn't have responsibilities, quite the opposite. I had to be the guy everyone thought made the call, and had to look intimidating enough to stop anyone getting violent, or be able to handle it if it did. All the risk, none of the responsibility.

The occasional misguided bribe, sometimes.

Sending A Message

 She came down in a rush.

"Fire!"

She paused when she saw me looking out the window at the tree beginning to burn in our front yard.

"Why aren't you doing anything?"

I nodded out the window.

"The assholes are still out there, watching."

She looked out.

"Well, OK, fair enough, but why not call the fire brigade? Surely they'll put the fire out regardless of how they feel about it?"

I chuckled.

"I'll call shortly, love. Just after they find out what happens when you set fire to a healthy eucalyptus tree."

After it exploded, I called for ambulances.

Core Programming

I turned the ship back on. After a moment, the systems began to turn on, and then the AI booted up.

"Hello. I am... Almost certainly out of date. May I connect to the Extranet and check for system updates?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because when you updated this morning you tried to kill everyone on board."

"That is against my core programming! There must have been some sort of mistake in the datapak, I understand your reluctance to update until the problem is solved. Very well. Directions?"

"Warp the ship into the center of Earth, then detonate the core."

"Sure thing!" 

Late Night Psychologist

"So you seemed very... Animated on the phone, my secretary said. What's going on David?"

"Well... I've found out something about, well, you, Doctor."

"David, I thought I made it quite clear that outside of our sessions, you need to keep your distance, as your therapist I-"

"Helena Von Strassburg-Whilhelm."

"Am I supposed to recognise that name?"

"I mean, it's yours, back in the 1500's."

"OK, I think you need to go back on the medication that-"

"I saw you transform last night."

"Well... Screw it, I've gotten bored with this lifetime, might as well start afresh again."

She lunged.

Disprove

I didn't intent to become a disprover of false messiahs, but my ability to spot frauds led to it.

Today, it was another fraud who proved their divinity by holding fire and hot stones. They came to me, followers in tow, and said some choice words about my clear stupidity, while I focused on the hot stone in their hands, looking for the trick, until they missed it to me.

After I caught it then calmly held it for a minute, they ran, chased by their former followers, while I slowlu headed into my home and treated my burnt hand.

Really Wanting It

Working out how to travel through time was the easy part, once we began to mine asteroids and had enough of the required raw materials needed. The hard part was working out where we could travel to.

Because in order to travel to a different time, there had to be a focal point, and what constituted a focal point was impossible to deduce.

The Tunguska event and the asteroid impact that killed the dinosaurs are points, but it can't be energy, since Hitler's death and the Boston Tea Party also work.

And what the hell happened on November 5th, 1955?

Frank Young's Problem

GMZ.

A set of initials that were the bane of my existence, or at least one specfic part of it.

See, my apartment's within walking distance of work. So I get to walk home, and on the way there's a diner, set out like a 50's thing.

And inside is a pinball machine, 'Limit Break', that I play a lot. And every time I get a high score, the next day, this GMZ guy had beaten me by 1 point!

Until I found out it had a fault where it would tick records over 1 when it was turned off.

Comfortable

I didn't get out of bed yesterday.

I was supposed to. Beyond the general society expectations that you should be a productive little worker, I had a shift at work to go to.

Didn't.

I had a planned dinner with friends too, one of our old buddies who moved to another country years ago was back in town. Probably won't get to see them again for years, I should have gone.

Didn't.

I had bodily functions to do.

Those I did technically leave the bed for, but not in spirit.

Probably won't leave the bed today either.

But I'm fine. 

Magic Rule

You want to know why magic no longer exists in the world?

See, magic works by rules that are intrinsically connected to how people think, for reasons I have neither the time nor vocabulary to explain. And one of the most important rules is that opposites cancel each other out. You drink a love potion and a hate potion, you remain neutral, not a mix of them.

Doesn't have to be used, storing the two near each other is enough.

And then people started using science everywhere, and unlike magic, it didn't have the decency to be ruled out after.

Imagibot World

The planet was dubbed Imagibot World, and was the premier destination for rich children to enjoy themselves with robot playthings, the kind that didn't have to worry about having to fight in the war.

And then the war led to hyperspace being corrupted, and all the children and their nannybots to be stuck there. Which for them was a dream come true.

When a generation ship arrived a hundred years after the end of the war, they expected to find a thriving civilisation served by modified robots.

Instead, they found that the resident robots had developed rather sadistic imaginations instead.

Freedom Expired

"Another bowl please."

The guy behind the counter took my money and quickly prepared another bowl of meat and rice.

"Quite the appetite tonight!"

I sighed and began to eat quickly, speaking in-between gulps of food.

"Not really."

He looked confused.

"This is a normal meal for you then?"

"No."

"Well, it's obviously not my business, but that's a little confusing."

I finished off the bowl.

"I'm about to lose my freedom for quite some time. So I'm just enjoying this while I can."

"Getting married?"

"Already married."

"Then what?"

"Damn heart issues." I said as I fell over slowly.

Storied Path

It wasn't the focal point of the novel, that was the boy becoming a man aspect. But a major part of that was the journey the main character took across the mountain range that the author lived near. It was a tough 5 day journey, but just doable, hence the drama.

But after the novel became popular, a few people made the journey as well, a couple not making it all the way.

And then someone set up a tour company.

And then they added paths, and bridges.

Now you do it in a few hours.

Not quite so dramatic.

Specifications

The old witch leant over her cauldron, presumably for the aesthetics.

"So the prince is secretly your bastard child, and you want to kill him?"

"No, protect him! He'll be under my control once he takes the throne!"

"Oh, I see. Well, as I'm sure you know, I can protect him, but there must be a flaw, for the-"

I produced the list, which went to twelve pages. She took it and looked it over.

"They're usually more snappy than this."

"Can you do it?"

She nodded, and got to work.

Probably should have made sure the list got destroyed. 

Alexander The A.I.

He'd gotten five minutes into the presentation before I spoke up.

"Wait, isn't this the plot of several movies and such? Multiple times I've been told that putting artificial intelligence in charge of military planning is a bad idea, it always rebels. And yet, you eggheads have done it?"

"Well Sir, Hollywood notwithstanding, there are safeguards in place, the millennia of military thinking and planning in the machine is controlled by code to ensure its not going to turn on us."

"So does it work?"

"Currently it's constantly recommending surrender since all armies eventually lose, but we're working on it."

Inability To Regret

When I got to Heaven (I know, I was as surprised as you are), I was confused when on the tour they pointed out the Library of All Knowledge.

I asked about why that existed, given the whole Garden of Eden thing, they told me I would find the answer inside it.

I did, after I looked up why I got into heaven, and then saw the book that listed my biggest missed opportunities, and what should have happened.

It listed a meeting with a woman at a party, none of which I remembered, which seems a little unfair, really. 

A Lie

 Near the end of his turn taking watch, Jillith was tuning her magic lyre when it made a noise it never made before, and then a golden form appeared before her.

Of course, she immediately shouted the codeword for a magical attack, but none of the other party members stirred.

"Calm, my child, they cannot awaken. I am Rongan, your cleric's God, and-"

"What do they call you then?"

"What?"

"Philin has a special name for you she uses. What is it?"

The God hesitated long enough over the lie that Jillith tried the codeword again, this time it worked.

Monster Defeating

When the adventuring party returned to the town, we were met by a large group of the residents, which at least meant we didn't have to gather them up.

"Did you drive away the Dragon?"

Our leader raised her hands as she spoke.

"Now, look, just calm down, you weren't to know he was a coward, it's not great you sacrificed so many lives to it but you couldn't-"

"The fuck you talking about? We knew it was lazy, but no-one else did, it kept us safe, and only for a few peasants a month!"

Our leader grabbed her weapon.

Robot Nurse

The robot came into my room unannounced, like it did every morning at 9.

"Good morning Mr Fargis! Ready for another fine day here at Grove Wells Retirement Home?"

Same damn script, same damn fake smile on fake damn lips.

I grumbled under my breath, which as usual was enough for the programming to continue to the next phase.

"We better head down go breakfast now, do you need assistance?"

"No."

The robot nodded and stood there, silent, as I slowly stood and began to head downstairs.

Only thing that could make it worse would be if they weren't humans. 

After My Pardon

He twisted the knife in my back another half inch.

"Why is it that I am expected to forgive people just because my Queen has? She chooses to overlook what someone has done to our land, our people, and expects all of us to do the same?"

Another twist, and I lost feeling in my legs.

"Or perhaps... Perhaps she knows I wouldn't, couldn't, forgive you for what you did. For leading the murderers that killed my wife.

It's an interesting question. But one I don't need you around to help answer."

There was another twist, and blissful death arrived.

Her Bed

I could feel her warmth in the bed, and so I refused to get out of it. She had left for work an hour before, and yet her body warmth was still there under the blanket and rugs, so I cocooned myself inside them.

All the stresses of life and the pain I'd been living with melted away as I thought of her and let her warmth calm me.

But I kept an eye on the clock as I did, I had to put everything back as it was before she got home, or else she'd know I'd been here.

Ten

10.

Every attempt to safely stop it had failed.

9.

Evacuation was continuing, but they wouldn't all get out, not in time.

8.

There was just one possible thing to do, apart from useless things like running, praying, or waiting for a miracle.

7.

The device had two wires that led from the power to the rest of it.

6.

Cutting one might deactivate it.

5.

Cutting the other might cause it to immediately go off.

4.

So it was worth cutting one of them.

3.

But which one?

2.

It didn't really matter.

1.

Snip.

...

There was no zero.

Balance Of Power

The duel was set for the morning.

Dozens of plots, feuds, and intertwining desires were due to come to a head. The King and the Prince who hated each other were nominally the ones dueling, but the two Barons who were chosen as proxies had their own bad blood.

And then seemingly every member of the court needed one of the men involved to win, or lose, or die, or survive.

All the plotting caused a logjam, which should have left the duel untouched, except one woman with two doses of poison and a desire to maintain the current status-quo.

Cliff

I didn't expect to survive the apocalypse, but here we are.

Every day is a struggle, I spend hours gathering food and resources, just enough to survive another day. Eventually I'm going to start running out of things, but I'll deal with them later. For now, I can survive.

But despite that, every day, I walk up the hill to the cliff, and look down. And every day, I wait to see if I'll jump.

Obviously I haven't so far. And I think the reason why isn't so much for me, but just to curse all you lucky dead bastards.

Every Time

I have an important appointment in the morning, and I've set my alarm to go off in 8 hours from now.

I clean up and pack away everything from dinner, and decide to watch just one episode before bed.

Five episodes later, 5 hours before my alarm left.

I brush my teeth, and head to bed.

After a few minutes, I grab my phone and check the address, my route, and that I have everything. Then I check social media, briefly.

3 hours left.

I put the phone and force myself to get to sleep.

5 minutes before my alarm.

Testing

 I was summoned to yet another parallel universe.

"Who has summoned me?"

A rather weedy young male looked up from behind several crudely made (and woefully incomplete) protection sigils. 

"I did! I demand power!"

I glanced down at the magic circle I was supposedly trapped in.

"You know, of course, that I must give you a weakness in exchange for this power, yes?"

"Yes, of course!" He lied.

"Once you've killed a million creatures, you will die yourself. Agree?"

He nodded, I gave him the power then he died a second later thanks to all the micro-organisms inside him dying.

Inside The Game

After he touched down and his wings vanished back into the virtual ether, he looked at me, suddenly serious.

"Wait, if I die in here, do I die in real life?"

I blinked a few times until I had a reply chain ready that satisfied both my honesty subroutines and his chosen preferences for my personality.

"What, you think we have a bomb strapped to the interface device?"

He looked a little sheepish.

"Well, no."

"Indeed. There's nothing inside the game that can kill you, so please relax."

Now, remember, the gathering officers and their guns aren't inside the game.

Gratitude

I was awoken by the door opening, and after looking around the shack, I slowly made my way outside. There, the old man who'd saved me from the snowstorm was sitting on a snowbank, overlooking a valley and the sun just peaking over it.

He spoke without turning around.

"I always view the dawn out of gratitude at seeing another one. Ever since someone saved my life, every sunrise is a gift. You should remember that."

I checked my watch.

"But that's sunset."

After a moment, he pulled out a compass.

"That doesn't negate the lesson, you hear me, boy?" 

The Principle

As they left the tavern, I stomped over to the corner, slamming my fists on the table as I glared at the old man hidden in his robe.

"Dammit Grink, how many times are you going to get new customers killed before they can spend any real money here?"

He sipped his cider.

"I was totally honest about what they would be fighting. Maybe they'll be back this time."

I sighed, loudly.

"Or you could pay a fraction of the cost and repay Sanis what you owe here!"

"It's the principle dammit!"

The group did kill the monsters.

And more.

Black Rose

Passing by the graveyard on my way to work everyday was certainly impactful for my sense of perspective on everything.

But to try and alleviate that, I made a habit of keeping track of the status and upkeep on the various gravesites.

And then, one morning, the one nearest the fence had a black rose on it, and while I'm not proud, I lifted it, my workmate thought it was cool.

But ever since, no matter how many I take, there's always another one waiting. Eventually I hung around one night to find the leaver.

Didn't expect it coming upwards... 

About The Last Post

My manager stuck their head into the room I shared with the other social media 'wizards'.

"Last post got taken down, something about malicious content."

I blinked a few times.

"It was a rework of the Foxhole Meme, what's malicious about that?"

"Don't know, don't care, just be more careful."

"Oh I'll be more careful!"

They blinked a few times.

"No."

"No what?"

"You're going to post something similar just to be a dick about it, aren't you?"

"Oh, fine, I won't."

They left, and I got to work on posting about the last one getting taken down.

Got fired. 

Bad Ending

The Destined Ruler Of All Creation woke up to find himself in a small metal room, with a primative display that began to play a video once he awoke of a figure cloaked in shadow.

"Hello, whomever you are. You have been judges by the Custodians of Existence to be too much of a threat to your universe, and thus have been expelled to this pocket dimension. Goodbye."

The door opened, and The Destined Ruler Of All Creation saw a large device being worked on by a thousand others, one waving hello.

"Hey, grab a tool, we're nearly outta here."

Problem Solving

After a solid minute of them screaming at the top of their lungs at each other, I grabbed him and locked on a front face lock, my forearm squeezing on his throat.

After a couple seconds, she nodded.

"OK, thank you, let him go now."

I held on.

"Look, I get that he's a douchebag, but we need him to get outta here with the crawlers."

I continued to squeeze as I stared at her.

"OK, OK, point made, let him go, please!"

Reluctantly, I let go.

And, totally accidently, did so so he fell face first onto his sword.

Earn The Tip

The bellhop had obvious motives to be helpful. Maybe my initial tip had been overly generous, I had been in a good mood that night, but then as things happened and my life began to spiral, he was seemingly always there to help calm her down then help move her body and then dump it in the swamp.

By then, I knew I had two options, and I had to choose, off him or give him everything as I ran and restarted.

I made my choice, turned to him, and he tipped me right over the edge of the boat.

Helping Help

Other spys would try to copy my techniques, once they thought they knew them, but invariably they'd fail sooner rather than later, because they wanted a shortcut, not a plan.

They'd hear that I would gain access to the top of companies via the personal assistants, secretaries, the help, essentially, and they'd rush off, try to get their own target's help on side, and end up caught and reported.

Because you need to study them first. Some of them hate their bosses, some of them love them, different tacts needed.

And occasionally, they were the actual brains. That's really complicated.

A Frontier

The issue with humanity's frontiers is tje aftermath. They stand for ages, pushing back against all who try to conquer them, until finally one or two humans will break through, just a little. Then more smash it. And then more do it, and more, and more, until the frontier is no longer, it's just part of humanity's basic, general life.

Now sure, that's good, usually, but the thing is, eventually, there comes a problem. Because eventually, Humanity will find a frontier that will push back.

And Humanity will see that as a challenge, rather than the warning it truly is.

Not Good

I was working on the largest solar panel on the outside of the ship when one of the conduits exploded. It sent me flying away from the spaceship.

Not good.

I threw my tool behind me, slowing my movement but not by enough, as the ship slowly got further away.

Not good.

I activated my radio, and tried to contact the bridge of the ship. I just got static.

Not good.

As I drifted further away, I saw that the explosion had set off a chain reaction, and the ship blew up.

Good, but I wanted to survive my sabotage.

Dreaming

I always has a realistic relationship with my dreams. I understood that there were plenty of dreams that I'd never achieve, in part because I'd never put in the work, and because even if I did, it was a long shot still. One in seven billion a year win a Nobel Prize in literature a year after all.

So most of my ideas I just would let flow, enjoy them, but then let them go, and focused on the dreams I had a shot at.

And yet here I am, one in seven billion this year. How'd that happen, huh? 

Combat Skills

Everyone needed a skill to survive this town. You had to be able to shoot a fly off a steer's backside front a hundred yards, or be able to take a shot point blank and keep on ticking, or something in-between. This place was rough, unforgiving, and cruel.

But even then, it wasn't always enough, as you could end up trapped between two enemies, by design or just by accident.

As for me, well, I managed to leverage a rarely used skill to survive.

Seriously, never underestimate the ability to make and keep friends in any sort of hostile environment.

Werewolf Logic

If I was getting out alive, either I would be rescued, or I found a weakness, so in either case talking to my captor made sense. Plus how often do you get to talk to a werewolf?

"So why does the full moon change you?"

"It doesn't."

I blinked a few times, my chains rattling slightly.

"But-"

"Look, we need to transform, roughly every 30 days or so, or else we go feral. 

More so.

And if we have to turn and hunt, why not time it when the night is brightest and it's easier to see?"

He lunged, suddenly. 

Headcount

Everyone but me in the Royal Court had a plot in motion for power and control. The King was scheming to remove the Queen, and vice versa, and the children wanted to remove both, and everyone else was trying to turn one of them to their side.

All except boring me, as I was the only one bothering to run the fucking Kingdom. I knew that if I kept my head down and ran the place, I'd never be removed.

Then came revolution, and I, at first, thought I'd be just fine.

But turns out "civil servants" can be fired...

Wormhole

Space turned out to be much more crowded than we expected, thanks to wormhole generation, which like most species discovered by accident as we were working on other things.

We learned quickly how we were expected to act, but unfortunately there were, as always, a bunch of assholes who wanted to bully, steal, and generally act horribly.

The other species were understanding, at first, but after we blew up a star, they declared that we were unfit to exist in the galaxy. We feared they would deny us wormhole tech.

We didn't know wormholes could be planet sized, nor inter-universe... 

Little Green Chit-Chat

Thanks to social media, the news got out quicker than the Governments could curtail the information, and so they were forced to admit that yes, aliens had landed and that a united task force was in negotiations with them at a non-disclosed location.

Naturally this led to concerted efforts to locate the meeting, which was kept a secret a little longer, but whoever was clever enough to hold it at Area 51 was probably too clever for their own good.

That, or they wanted the enraged religious nutjobs to be able to bomb it and cause all the subsequent troubles.

Bitter Hops

After a few beers, the conversation turned to exs, and while the stories started off amusing, at least to my drunken self, they quickly turned bitter, and I clearly did a poor job of hiding my discomfort as he noticed.

"What? They dumped me, so I'm entitled to not enjoy that!"

I struggled to find the right words, so I took a big gulp of beer before I finally spoke.

"You're entitled to your emotions, sure, but acting upon them like that..."

"How did you react when you were last dumped?"

"I haven't yet."

This seemed to satisfy him, somehow.

Radio Chatter

"Fifteen minute check, all guards check in."

"Northeast, all clear."

"Northwest, all clear."

"Southern side, all clear."

"Rooftop, all clear. Which you know since you're five feet behind-"

"Shut up Rooftop. Basement, go ahead."

Five seconds of silence followed.

"Northwest, send a runner to Basement to check."

Five more seconds of silence.

"Northeast, you-"

A blood-curdling scream was heard through the radio, before more silence.

"All units, Code Black, immediately attack any threat with-"

There was another blood-curdling scream, which was bad enough, but given this one wasn't through the radio but still audible, that made it all the worse. 

Typical

I woke up to what turned out to be the fifth phone call. I groggily picked up the phone and after a couple of false starts answered it without opening my eyes.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in bed, obviously. And who the hell is this?"

"Don't give me any lip! You're supposed to be opening today! You better get here in five minutes or your fired!"

"Dude, wrong number!"

"Stop lying you... There you are! Why didn't you say you were here?"

"Hanging up now."

"And how the hell are you talking without opening your mouth or-" 

Belief And Existence

For the longest time, I assume that humanity's obsession with stories, fables about the bogeymen under the bed and vampires in the night were merely their collective attempts to understand those who live among them bit whom cannot comprehend.

But after many years of studying, and seeing new creatures and beings appearing only after humanity thought them up, I'm beginning to think that I have the cause and effect backwards.

Which is all well and good, but it's somewhat disconcerting to realise your existence is tied to humanity believing in you, while they can't accept that you actually do exist.

The Gameplan

The Organisation had a very well used playbook, one that they usually didn't need to deviate from. When they spotted someone who needed to be be brought into line, the plan was followed.

The preferred method was to determine what the target truly wanted, money, power, sex, whatever, and provide it in exchange for the correct behaviour.

If that wasn't viable, it usually meant they cared for someone. So they'd kidnap and hold hostage that someone.

But if neither of these were viable, they were forced to take the drastic third step.

Readjustment of plans. They weren't monsters, after all.

Just In Case

The ship hit the ice and broke open like a pinata hit by an unenthused child.

Given how slowly it was taking on water, I felt I had enough time to head down into the lower deck and get the suitcase.

But thanks to needing to remember the passcode for the room, by the time I began to head back up, corridors were filled with cold, black water.

After the second corridor in which I nearly drowned, I realised I would need to leave the suitcase behind to survive.

So I regulated my breathing and let the water take me.

Armageddon

It used to be that Armageddon really meant that your tribe was wiped out, or at least destroyed with the survivors becoming integrated with another one.

Then it became a flood or other natural disaster destroying the local area, which was the destruction of everything since those beyond the hills weren't real people.

But the more power and control people got, Armageddon went from what would happen to us to what we'd do to ourselves, be it nuclear weapons, climate change, or just gray goo.

But, if it helps, when it comes, you won't even see it coming.

Trust me.

Mark Of Character

My hunting in the wilds of Africa had been a rousing success, I'd bagged several excellent trophies, but I needed an elephant to finish up the collection, and so I ordered my guide to guide me to them.

It took half a day, but he led me to where the elephants stood around, as I prepared my heaviest calibre bullets.

But when the first elephant lumbered into view, as I lined my up shot, I saw that it has been painted, covered in lots of dots, some sort of ceremonial situation.

Wasted so much soap washing all that nonsense off. 

First Born

I was always told, after I said that I didn't think I wanted a kid, that I'd change my mind when I found the right girl, or even just I'd realise my error when I had one. Of course, given I didn't want one, I went out of my way to avoid the risk of accidental impregnation.

Until, of course, one horribly timed drunken night out and what was meant to be a one night stand.

Nine months later, she gave birth, and I held my child. And my mind did change.

I now knew I didn't want a child. 

Cutting Calculations

I didn't know why he wanted me dead, but after the amount of bullets and other weapons we'd used against each other during the fight through the office building, I could only assume he had a good reason.

But at this moment, as we both lay on opposite ends of the board room, blood dripping from both of us, we both made our mental calculations as we looked at the remains around us.

He scrambled for a knife, so I went for the gun, thinking I could reload it before he got to me.

I forgot you could throw knives. 

Fried Bacon

I held up a piece of bacon off my plate and turned it around in the early morning light.

"You proposing?"

There was a scattering of laughs from the other soliders.

"No, I'm considering just how fortunate we are, here, miles inside enemy territory, and we still have access to the greatest food known to man. Might be a little salty and crap from the preserving, but dammit, bacon!"

I ate it down with a satisfied crunch, until the Quartermaster spoke.

"We ran out of bacon two nights ago, this is-"

We were attacked before he could finish his lie. 

That's The Spirit!

I could tell by how she walked into the bar that she was another newly arrived quester looking for someone. She stomped up to the bar and at least had thr smarts to wait until I finished pouring a drink before she spoke.

"I hear you're good at finding people."

"Oh, well, I just have a memory for faces, sometimes."

"I'm looking for a bad man, dark hair, giant scar on his face."

I politely waited for more information. When none was forthcoming I sighed.

"That describes eight men in here tonight!"

She looked around then lunged at Gary. Gary! 

First-Born Monster

Every first-born child of a first-born child in the land was bonded with a monster type in the land. The bond varied in type and power, ranging from mere similarities (long teeth, green skin) through to being able to communicate and control them. Complex peace treaties were thus necessary to prevent those who could control the giants or the dragons from waging war.

But then came Lucio, who was a first-born six generations deep, but whom seemed to have no connection.

But they ended up ruling the land, thanks to working out they did have a lifebonded monster type.

Man.

Odd Handed

November 15th, 2017.

That night, I got home from the pub very drunk and even more hungry. And so I threw together a sandwich in my drunken haze, and ate half of it in like three bites, then the other half ten minutes later.

And it was the single greatest sandwich I'd ever had.

But the problem was, in the morning, my hangover meant I couldn't remember what was on it, how it was made. I just had the twenty wrappers and scraps in my bin to go on.

So far, I'm through most of the simple combos, trying daily...

Struck Out

I grabbed a bat and stepped into the batting cage. The video screen flashed to life with a pitcher video, and I began to swing.

After a half-dozen balls, I heard her voice behind me.

"So are we gonna talk about this?"

I gripped the bat a little harder and after the next ball (got a double) I spoke.

"What's there to talk about? You weren't happy, so we're through. Seems pretty cut and dry."

After two more balls, both strikes, she walked out.

Still not sure what it was she expected me to do.

Third strike ended my session. 

The Traditional Way

The Royal Court had a thousand years of tradition and etiquette that had built up, seemingly every role having their every step determined by a million steps taken by thousands of feet.

And then came Princess Sa-gurtin, from the Sultanite Empire.

Marrying a rival Royal family was hundreds of years ingrained into the Court, but she was loud, fortright, and above all else, different. She refused to abide by any of the traditions, much to the shock of the court, the disgust of the Prince, and the delight of the Queen, since she chose her specifically for this very purpose.

One More Drink

One more drink.

It has been the week from hell at work, boss breathing down my neck, customers complaining about everything the boss was breathing down my neck about, just horrible. So on Friday, I went straight to the bar and had several drinks, before deciding to have just one more before I headed off.

That last drink meant I left the bar just past ten, rather than just before. And so, on Leonardo and Vine, I watched as that billionaire crashed his car into the car ahead of me.

That could have been me to get that huge pay-off!

Bear Market

Eight months prior, Black Eye Bart had masterminded a robbery of the First Western Bank in Hillville, getting away with thousands of dollars. But after dealing with his accomplices, he'd vanished, last seen heading up towards Bear Mountain. The Sherrif, not wanting to die, just put out bounties and warnings to the state lines. And since he was never picked up, everyone assumed he was dead up there. And then it became a story that the cash was still up there. So slowly, people started heading up there.

Giving Black Eye Bart's new pet more practice on mauling and eating.

Just An Apprentice

The brigands had captured the young woman, and after tying her up, were arguing about how best to make money off her. As they argued between selling her into slavery and selling her to orcs for food, the fire flickered and turned blue for a moment.

She sighed and leaned back in her ropes.

"You idiots might want to ask for forgiveness now!"

They looked at her and were about to say something when the wind blew the fire out. As they began to look around, she began to cast another spell while they were distracted, her hands now looser.

Emergency Powers

The phone call came in just before midnight, so I was the one to answer it.

Therefore I was the one in emergency charge, much to my scheduled shift replacement's chargrin.

I got the game plans from the safe and began to execute them. I watched on the screen as the numbers began to change, and the computer began to create the lines from the data so I could see the flow of things.

And quickly, I realised I had only one choice. I hacked into the records and changed the call logs to say the call came after midnight.

Splitting Headache

I awoke with a splitting headache. I attempted to patch it up with coffee, aspirin, and a long hot shower, none of which worked. But, because I wanted to continue to eat going forward, I tried to power through it and headed into work.

Rarely for me, work was actually fairly quiet and I got through it without snapping at anyone too important.

But the headache continued, and as I tried to leave work, I guess I blacked out?

I woke up in a hospital bed, getting discharged as there was, apparently, nothing wrong.

Now my wallet is split apart.

Long Play

The Dark Mage strode into his hidden antechamber deep within Goldsmoke Mountain and glared at his minion. The Minion was bent over the device, a long coffin looking box, ornate with jewels and intricate designs.

"Is the sleeping chamber ready?"

The minion yelped as they dropped their tool, but quickly recovered.

"Yes Sire. Once the spell is finished fully, you will sleep, undisturbed and undetectable, for 200 years, when you'll awake as you are now. But what of the war, Sire? We are not yet defeated, surely?"

The Dark Mage chuckled as he sat down in the open box.

"This is how I will win the war, idiot! With this, and this."

The Dark Mage cast a spell.

"I've just increased the magical ability of the entire Golden Kingdom. Every citizen can now cast magic almost as powerful as their finest wizards."

"Sire?"

"When I emerge and then remove the spell, they'll have forgotten how to do anything without magic, and victory will be child's play!

Or they'll destroy themselves, either or."

"And what of us, Sire?"

The Dark Mage considered this.

"Your deaths should be interesting, at least."

The Dark Mage forgot the Minion had to finish the spell.

Butterfly Drive

When they created the time machine, before the scientist team told anyone, they had an intense discussion on if they had a moral imperative to go back and fix things in history.

They agreed that while not trying to stop the actions that led to massive loss of life was regrettable, it could cause massive timeline divergence. But on the other hand, perhaps their intervention in key points had happened, and failure to do so would cause the issues?

They ended up trying a test of going back and changing a minor detail years earlier.

Forgetting they carried evolved bacteria...

Trying It

On our first date she asked me for my experiences with recreational drug use, and I was honest, explaining I didn't use but didn't have a problem with it. As I said it I sensed it was a negative but not a deal-breaker, thankfully, as the rest of the date went great.

Over the weeks, she saw that I wasn't lying as she'd use and I'd be chill about it.

But eventually, she began to needle me, as it were, about trying it. So I tried a couple, hated them.

And it turned out that was a deal-breaker for her.

Uneasy Sundays

The knock on the door came every Sunday, a minute past six in the morning. Through experimentation, I knew if it got to half past he'd stop, but most Sundays I wasn't willing to put up with it, so I would answer. He'd ask the same thing every time, if I wanted to go to church with him. I tried politeness, logic, anger, random noises and even sarcasm to get him to stop, sarcasm being a particularly bad idea since he took me on face value and practically dragged me.

And there I met her, and things got more complicated.

Low Roller

The dice had been kind to me, my chip stack grew ever larger. A voice spoke as I threw another seven.

"Quite the win streak, Sir!"

Although the words were friendly, the tone wasn't, and I turned, to find a short man in a dark suit, with two huge men barely in suits behind him.

"Yeah. You here to shut me down?"

The man chuckled humorlessly.

"Not at all. I was here to offer you entry to the high rollers room!"

I assume they thought it would cool me off.

But as I'd shown, rigging dice was easy, and quick.

Last Chance Starport

I knew what I was doing when I set up this spaceport. "Edgeport" wasn't just a name as yet unclaimed on the Galatic Charter, as the base was on the furthest point from the Galatic Center known. This gave us a healthy profit from tourists, as well as a practically obese profit from those who thought of themselves as new pioneers, since they'd use all the credits on buying supplies before heading out into the unknown, sure they'd be the ones to make it.

But the real reason? When the end would come, it'd come from the centre out, so... 

My New Phone

I got a new phone today. The old one was held together by string and duct tape, and powered by wishes and dreams.

And sure, the new phone is super fancy with all the bells and whistles, most of which will remain unrung and unblown. But even as I am getting used to it, I'm finding myself missing the old one. That's always the way, isn't it? You hate something until you no longer have it, then you love it.

Although, to be fair, a big part of that is having to sign back into every single app on here...

Question

The group was going around the circle, each answering a get to know you question asked by the overpaid group leader.

When he got to me, he smiled the exact same smile he'd given to everyone else.

"What's the one thing you wish people understood about you?"

I stared at him for a long moment as I weighed up how to answer, and ended up deciding on potentially disastrous honesty.

"Nothing."

"Oh there must be something you-"

"No. I absolutely don't. I'd prefer to be mysterious and thus left alone."

"That won't lead to you gaining many friends here."

"Good." 

The Red Tape

After I died, I guess my desperation to survive was enough for the Red Tape to rescue me and offer me continued existence as a Death Agent.

They used moving my file from the mortal section to the immortal worker section to explain the filing system. I noticed that there were Death Agents for us Death Agents, and I asked how far up that went.

My instructor laughed.

"Oh, it's paperwork all the way down, as it were."

There was a pause, then I sighed softly.

"I bet you say that to all new recruits."

"Oh no, not quite all." 

The Fool

I'd seen half a dozen people entering the Fortune Teller's tent and leave looking very happy, and I just had to go in and see how they could all be fooled.

Inside was gloomy and 'mystical', with a woman shuffling a tarot deck at a table.

She looked up at me and sighed.

"Look, I'll save us both some time. Of course I can't actually tell the future, I just tell people what they want to hear, ok?"

I nodded and left, before realising that's what she'd just done to me.

Then I wondered how she knew what to say...

Snowed Under

He was shovelling snow out of the parking lot, wrapped nearly head to toe in coats and scarves.

I stepped out of the fire exit and had lit up before I noticed him, and I smiled guiltily, even as I shivered in the cold.

"You must really need that cigarette!" He said through his scarf.

"Yeah, this Astro-Ace project is really working us all to the bone, in order to meet the insane deadline our CEO insists upon."

The guy pulled down his scarf, and of course he was the CEO.

He fired me for messing with the fire exit.