Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Sunday, June 2, 2024

All the Time in the World

 


 All the Time in the World

Reedsy Short Story Submission

 

 

    Imagine if someone asked you, “If you could choose any superpower, what would it be?”.

    What would you choose?

    I bet a dozen different things came to mind.

    I know at least a few of you would probably say something like super-strength. Or the ability to fly. With how popular some of the big supers are, heroes like Cosmic Man or Power Woman, I know that’s probably first on a few lists. Big and powerful. Flashy. The epitome of what you picture when you think “superhero”.

    Still, maybe you’re rethinking that choice. Or maybe you had something else in mind. Maybe you even gave more than a knee-jerk response.

    What else did you come up with?

    Was it invisibility? The ability to hide from sight. To do whatever you want without worrying about being seen. Not very heroic of you, but still certainly superhuman. What about the ability to breathe fire? Would sure make cosplaying as a dragon fun. Or perhaps you chose something contrarian like “Money” just because you’re a fan of the playboy philanthropists with a penchant for justice and vigilantism.

    It’s funny. For a lot of people, they don’t think of the ability to manipulate time as being very high on that list.

    Until you mention it.

    “Gee, that sounds like a great power.” You’re probably thinking. “Why didn’t I think about that?”

    I wondered for a long time why nobody thought of time manipulation as a superpower. It just seemed obvious to me, but I guess it’s because I was born with it. A lot of people just take time for granted, I suppose. Everything exists within time. Everything is held by its laws. In a way, it’s easier to forget that it’s there. Now, though, I think it’s because some deep part of the universe knows better than to let too many people go mucking about with the very fabric holding everything together.

    It’s better if people didn’t mess with it.

    Now, don’t get me wrong, there are one or two comics out there that talk about the idea of a hero with the ability to manipulate time. But of all the big licensed supers out there fighting bad guys in the streets, not one of them has that power. You would sooner see a six-year-old fighting a t-rex with a tanker truck than you would see someone stop time.

    Why is that?

    I learned early on that the first reason is just because a lot of people can’t even conceptualize what we’re doing when we’re using our powers. Time manipulation is so outside of the scope of proper existence that, when it’s seen, people don’t even know they’re seeing it. There are a few different kinds of T.M.’s, that’s short for Time Manipulators, people like me that can alter the flow of time in the universe. But all of them are generally misunderstood for something else.

    Take me for example: I can stop time. But what do you think that looks like to some guy watching? That’s right, it looks like I just moved super fast. So they just generally think I’m a speedster or something like that.

    Easy, right?

    Well, what about those who can move forward or backward in time? Same thing. If they move forward enough that they can be seen, provided the whole spatial issue, then POP, it looks like they just teleported. So someone thinks it’s a teleportation power. And going backward in time? Same thing, albeit with odd accents and money you’ve never seen.

    The only thing I think could ever stand out for what it would be is if a T.M. was able to specifically mess with the age of a given object, but I’ve never seen one of us manage that. I’m sure it’s theoretically possible, but either it’s incredibly rare or you need to live long enough to develop it, and none of us have pulled that off.

    That brings me nicely to the second problem with messing with time and why you don’t see many of us: it’s fucking dangerous. Simply put, despite T.M.’s showing up at about the same rate as other supers, we just don’t have a long shelf-life.

    I mentioned earlier the “spatial issue”. While I’ve personally never dealt with it, an old buddy of mine explained it to me before he died. In short, while a lot of T.M.’s can manipulate time, the universe is made up of both time and space. Basic physics kind of stuff. But those basic physics make a big difference when you travel in time because there’s a fair chance that the planet you’re on won’t exist beneath your feet if you go too far backward or ahead. With very few exceptions, most T.M.’s couldn’t do anything about that and so any jumps they made had to be in weird, quick intervals to avoid leaving the Earth behind.

    Space is pretty fucking cold and you can’t breathe out there.

    Unfortunately, though, for someone like me with the ability to stop time, not breathing is also a big issue. As a kid, I remember seeing a bunch of comics about how cool it would be to stop time, to run around without anyone moving or even knowing what was going on, but those stories never took into account the fact that when you stop time, more than just people are frozen. And I don’t mean plants or animals or bugs or anything like that.

    Like I said earlier, everything in the universe is bound to time.

    You’ve heard of the speed of light, right? Maybe you haven’t thought of it too much, but speed implies movement. A lightyear is the speed of light measured against time. So naturally, if you stop time, you stop light.

    Do you know what else requires time to move around?

    Air.

    Oxygen. Nitrogen. Hydrogen. All those little particles that make up our ability to breathe. To survive. All of those are just as dictated by time as the rest of us. And if they aren’t moving. You aren’t breathing them.

    Even worse than that, if they aren’t moving, then you aren’t moving.

    Yet again, if time isn’t moving, then none of those little particles are. Fully stopping time is like locking yourself in a prison of darkness, unable to move any part of your body. My mom and dad thought they were night terrors when I was a kid. Turned out it was just my superpower developing and no one understanding that the “sleep paralysis” that wore off after I passed out was me accidentally locking myself in that prison.

    Who knew I’d put myself back in it willingly?

    To be fair, I figured out what it was years ago and I haven’t used a full time-stop again until today. Normally I do what I call “Extreme Slo-mo”. You slow down time just enough so that you’ve still got photons bouncing around and the particles in the air can move around. It’s like moving through beef stew, and you still can’t breathe, but it lets me do my job and save people. It also comes with the cool side effect of making these big explosions when I move through a lot of space because it displaces all the air super fast. Everyone thinks I’m a speedster because of it, and I guess for a long time I was happy to just accept that.

    Until today.

    Man, everything was going great today. It was supposed to be nice and easy. Just go grab some shmuck that had taken some hostages. My friends and I had dealt with similar stuff a hundred times over since we became supers five years ago.

    Why the fuck did he have a nuke?

    Maybe if I was a speedster, I could have done something. At the very least, maybe I could have gotten away. I wouldn’t just be sitting here waiting for my body to give up and pass out. It’s already been three minutes since I locked myself in my little time prison. It’s pretty impressive I haven’t blacked out already.

    Okay, maybe I’m being pedantic. I don’t have any light and I haven’t since that bastard set off the bomb.

    I just wish I had realized what he was doing. Wish I had been proactive and not only been able to react. He’d already pressed the button. Already primed it to go off. He had never intended to get out of there. He just wanted to take some supers with him and used the hostages to do it.

    I just wish I had a chance to do it over again.

    Who knows, maybe I can figure out how to.

    I’ve got all the time in the world.

   

Tuesday, June 28, 2022

All In a Day's Work

 
Source: https://www.wallpaperflare.com/old-radio-station-vintage-wallpaper-uvrya
 
 
 All In a Day's Work
 
 ===
 
    Bzzzzzzzzzz.
    The constant droning hum made Gabby's neck and shoulders ache. It was this constant, incessant sound that just seemed to drill into her skull and set her teeth on edge. And, for whatever reason, it was absolutely atrocious today.
    "Guhhh!" she cried out in annoyance to no one in particular.
    "Problem?" Mike called from the other room.
    "No. It's nothing." she said with a deep sigh.
    She reached out to the small radio on her desk and fiddled with a few of the knobs but to little success. While she was able to lower the volume slightly, it also made the constant noise less of a hum and more of a soft crackle as more of the sound came through clearly. Gabby briefly considered turning the whole contraption off but knew she'd get in far more trouble then she cared to think about if her boss came in and her dispatch was turned off.
    But bless it all she needed a break.
    "Hey Mike?" Gabby called as she stood, stretching her arms in a feeble attempt to loosen the knot between her shoulder blades.
    "Yea?" came the answering call.
    "Can you keep an ear on dispatch? I wanna go grab a refill."
    "Yep." he replied unethusiastically.
    Picking up her mug, Gabby stepped out of the crowded little office into the main bullpen to find Mike exiting his own office. He looked very much like she felt. Tired, bleary eyed, and completely bored out of his skull.
    "Don't look too excited now." she said with a weak smile.
    "Haha." he exhaled dryly, running one hand through his blonde curls. "Wanna grab me a snack while you're over there?"
    "Sure." Gabby replied. "Any preferences."
    "Surprise me." he said as he walked past her into her office, sipping at his own coffee.
    Gabby let out an uncontrolled yawn as she walked by rows and rows of cubicles, making her way to the breakroom and the expensive coffee maker that her boss had felt was a 'necessary expenditure' for the workplace.
    She certainly wasn't going to argue.
    The whole thing was a fancy pile of machinery that she had no hope of ever understanding. It was shiny and chrome and seemed to gleam in the light of the breakroom. One of their clients had recommended it some years back and bless the man who did because it made dealing with the stress of the job just so much easier. 
    Taking her time, she looked through the selection of different beans and settled on a dark roast she had tried a few times but hadn't sampled in a couple of weeks. Gabby rinsed out the used mug in her hand, tossed it under the drip, and let the machine do its thing while she raided the nearby shelves for snacks.
    Onion chips. Potato chips. Granola bars. Popcorn. And...what is this? Salmon jerky?
    She shuddered at the thought, having tried it once and only once. The smell had been way too much and the taste was somehow even worse.
    Settling, instead, on some of the sweet Hawaiian onion chips, Gabby snatched up one of the bags and returned to the coffee machine as it finished dispensing the life-giving bean juice.
    "Hey, hey." Ralph said with a bit more pep then she felt the day deserved as he entered the little breakroom. "There she is. You workin' hard or hardly workin'?"
    "Hey Ralphie." Gabby replied, offering a genuine, albeit tired smile.
    "Hey Gabs." he returned. "You hear about that...?"
    "Yea. Yea I did." she said with a sigh. "Been non-stop all morning because of it."
    "Well, least first response is all done, right? Just the client's responsibility now?"
    "Mostly." she confirmed, glancing back to the near full coffee mug and snagging it from under the drip. "I think there's a few stragglers that are still getting sorted out."
    "Fair enough." Ralph replied with a shrug before taking up residence in front of the coffee machine. "You have to go out for it?"
    "No." Gabby replied as she fished out some almond milk from the nearby fridge. "But I wouldn't complain if they did, honestly. Ever since the big guy wanted to do the 'less hands-on' thing, I feel like I never get to see any clients. I didn't exactly sign up for a desk job."
    "Yea. But I get it. We can't hold their hands forever." her coworker replied with a shrug. "And hey, if we're the only ones doing any work, whats gonna be left for them to do? Am I right?"
    "Yea, yea. I guess so." she replied while stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. "Still. I just wish I had a bit more to do."
    "Careful with that kind of wishful thinking." Ralph said with a smirk. "You just might get it."
    "Pff. Later, Ralphie." she said, walking out of the breakroom and back into the main hall.
    "Later!" he called after.
    Coffee and onion chips in hand, Gabby trudged her way back across the bullpen and by a seemingly endless number of cubicles. Each one had a different person in them, all doing their assigned work. Some looked happy. Some looked tired. Some looked like they could look into oblivion and win a staring contest.
    Same shit different day.
    "Oy. Big guy." She called as she reached her office door before unceremoniously tossing the chips at Mike's head. He was sitting at her desk, his attention focused on the radio on top of it, and staring at it rather intently.
     The chips bounced off his skull with a satisfying crinkle and cracking of the chips inside.
    "Rude." he said as he reached down and grabbed the now fallen chips off the ground. 
    Mike popped open the bag as Gabby walked back into her office, but he made no move to get up from her desk. Instead, he leaned back over and began fiddling with one of the knobs on the radio. It was only then that Gabby realized-
    "It's weirdly quiet." she observed, realizing that the constant hum was gone.
    "That's what happens when you don't try to listen to every station at once." 
    "I'm more efficient that way."
    "Yea, I bet you are." Mike said with a shake of his head. "I bet you can't even understand half of what's being said."
    "I mean, I can. I just have to really try to listen, ya know."
    "Well, I tuned you to Kids radio."
    Gabby frowned, thinking that maybe she should have gotten Mike that Salmon jerky instead.
    "Come on, man. Kids radio? That's always the wors-"
    As if on cue, the radio chirped in its own opinion on the matter.
    "H-hello? I... I don't really know how to do this... I've never really done this before..." came the uncertain sound of a young child through the contraption on her desk.
    "Come onnnnn." Gabby groaned loudly.
    "Hey, you've been saying you wanted some field work and you know the big guy has a soft spot for the kids."
    "But..." she began.
    "No good deed goes unpunished. You ever heard the story of the good samaritan?"
    Gabby glared as him as he walked past.
    "You suck." she declared.
    Mike just laughed.
    With a sigh, Gabby settled down to her desk and turned the radio up. Despite feeling riled up by having to do actual work, Mike was completely right. A kid could be justified and would let her get out of the office. At least, provided it wasn't over an X-Box or something.
    "...don't even know if you can hear me or not. But Daddy always says I should try to talk to you. He says..."
    The radio starts to go to static but Gabby quickly adjusts it until its crystal clear. Though whether the clarity is due to the equipment or the client is anyone's guess.
    "...every night. So, if you're listening. I guess I'm asking about my dad. He... My mom says he got hurt. There's a lot of people here. Lots of doctors. And they told me I should say goodbye. But I don't know why. Why can't we just go home?"
    Gabby felt a tightness in her chest as she listened that seemed to wash away her previous annoyances. She set down the coffee cup, having not even taken a sip.
     "If you can... Can you help him? I don't know what's wrong, but I don't want to say goodbye. I think he's hurt, but I don't know how. He won't get up. And there's these machines and..."
    She could hear the child's voice beginning to crack as the emotions began to overwhelm him. Pulling her attention away from the radio, she grabbed her workstation and pulled up the file on the client. Skimming it briefly, she noted a few key details both about him and his family.
    "Ahh, kid." she whispered to no one,  an exhalation of exasperation at the notes on the child's father. "That's awful."
    "I don't want to say goodbye. I just want him to get up. I don't want to say goodbye." the kid began to actively cry through the radio.
    There was nothing more to listen to. It wasn't like she was going to get anymore from a traumatized nine year old.
    A warmth flushed through her cheeks and around the edges of her eyes as she listened to the quiet little sobs and her throat closed ever so slightly. There was something about kids that always just got under her skin. Maybe it was too much of her boss's comments or something.
    "Alright!" she shouted to Mike. "You win!"
    "Ha!" came the answer from the door next to her's.
    She pulled up the messenger on her workstation and quickly jotted out a message to her boss, letting him know where she was going and that it was for a client. She then shot him over the ticket information and marked herself as absent before standing up and leaving behind the forgotten coffee.
    "See you when you get back." Mike called after her.
    "Yea, yea." she responded. "I blame you for this." though she knew he wasn't at fault for anything more that tuning the channel to be more focused.
    Crossing the bullpen and winding her way through the desks, Gabby reached the elevator and hit the button. She thought about how things used to be and how it seemed like only her, Mike, and Ralph were ever given leeway to do field work anymore. It used to be half the desks did on-sites but now the big guy only trusted the three of them and even those had to be justified.
    Still, she wouldn't complain about not having to wait on the elevator.
    The gleaming, chrome doors opened and she stepped inside, slapping the 'G' button before leaning against the far wall. The doors closed a few moments later with a gentle 'whoosh' and she felt the elevator begin to move. Her stomach lurched ever so slightly as the elevator descended quickly towards the ground.
    "Bluh." she groaned at the sensation of her lunch trying to crawl up her throat from the speed of the thing.
    The elevator hit ground floor a minute later and, stepping out, Gabby found herself in a crowded city. She took a moment to get her bearings, glancing around at the people walking by and the cars zooming through the streets, before settling on the large white hospital building at the far end of the block. A few seconds after, the sounds of the street died away, only to be replaced by a soft, incessant beeping of machines and the light murmur of voices, broken only by the occasional cough.
    Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone and pulled up the details.
    "JEREMY GREEN. ROOM 722."
     Crossing the lobby, she took another, much slower elevator up to the seventh floor of the hospital, only to be greeted by a Caduceus symbol. Gabby couldn't help but chuckle, thinking that she really needed to see Hermie as it'd been a while since they last spoke, and then checked the directory. Following the guide to the right, she soon found what she was looking for.
    A young boy sat on a small bench, tears streaming down his face and his hands clenched tightly together in a ball. A woman, his mother presumably, sat over top of him, her arms draped around the child's shaking body. Tears streaked her cheeks as well and Gabby could clearly make out the racking sobs in her ribcage.
    "Ahh... Kid..." Gabby whispered sadly as she walked up and gently ran a hand through his hair.
    He didn't notice.
    Glancing past the bench into the room beyond, there was a cacophony of sound and light.
    Machines of all make and model stood around an unconscious middle-aged man in a hospital bed. Each one, some filled with fluid, some pumping, and most of them beeping and booping and flashing, created a chorus of noise that made Gabby wish for the simple hum of her untuned radio. Every device was hooked up to the man in some way or another with fluids coming and going in a truly disgusting display. At the far end of the bed, a nurse and a doctor stood looking over a chart, quietly whispering to each other. And, next to them, a gentleman in a black suit looked over his own chart while glancing occasionally at the man in the bed.
    "Hey." Gabby said with a wave, walking into the room.
    The medical professionals paid her no mind but the man in black glanced up and then locked eyes on Gabby.
    "Oh, come onnnnnn." he groaned, tossing the chart on a nearby chair.
    "Nice to see you too." she chuckled.
    "No. No it's not. Are we really going to do this?"
    Gabby glanced at the man in the bed and grimaced. He was in rough shape. It was truly a marvel that he was alive at all for the moment.  
    Bless modern medicine, she thought to herself.
    "Yes, we're really doing this, Az."
    "I just finished the paperwork!" he near-shouted in exasperation. "You can't just waltz in here and-"
    "I can."
    "But you can't-"
    "Yes, I can."
    "Can't."
    "Can."
    "Can't!"
    "Look, Az, I can and I will. I know we don't do this much anymore, but your department is just gonna have to deal with it. I'm doing my job and you know darn well that I am above you on these kinds of things."
    "But this is different!" Az complained. "He had a date! It was scheduled. You can't!"
    "Oh get off it before I call the big guy." Gabby said, turning away from him towards the man in bed. "Besides, what's worse? Filling out a report or having to complete the escort?"
    "Hmm. Well..." Az seemed to think, his annoyance turning thoughtful as he considered.
    "That's what I thought." she replied before settling next to the hospital bed, lifting her hand, and slapping the patient hard across the face.
    The man woke with a coughing gasp, vomit spitting up just a little around the edges of ventilator.
    "Holy-!" the doctor jumped.
    "Jesus!" the nurse chimed in, rushing to patient's side.
    "Can we get some help in here!" the doctor called before joining the nurse, working to get the ventilator out of the struggling man's throat. "It's gonna be alright, son. Calm down."
    From outside the room, the young boy peeked in and then tried to rush in before being caught up by his mother.
    "No, honey. Let them work."
    And work they did. With the patient machinations of the medical professionals, the man was quickly unhooked from a good majority of the machines that had been being used to keep him alive over the course of the next half hour. All the while, the boy and his mother continued to cry and watch, though it was clearly for a new reason.
    Relief.
    By the end of an hour, the three of them, the man, woman, and child, were crying together, embracing each other tightly in the father's bed.
    "I think we need to work on your subtlety." Az commented after finishing gathering up his things.
    "I can be subtle." Gabby retorted.
    "Clearly." Az shot back.
    "Easy, easy." the man complained from his bed as his wife squeezed him tighter. "You're choking me."
    The woman loosened her grip, but did little else to release her husband.
    "It's a miracle." she sobbed into his now tear-soaked hospital gown. "I don't know how but it's a miracle!"
    "I just choose not to be." Gabby continued. "They're not always supposed to be subtle."
    "Yea, yea." Az grumbled. "Wanna get some lunch?"
    "Sounds good."
    As the two began to make their way out of the hospital room, Gabby stopped to look back and realized that the little boy was no longer death-gripping his father but rather looked a bit more stoic. His eyes were closed tightly.
    "Thank you. Thank you so much." he whispered to Gabby, though he likely didn't know she could hear him.
    Gabby couldn't help but smile.
    "You got it, buster." she said, gently stroking the child's hair once more before turning and walking out with Az.
    "So, what're we thinking?" Az asked.
    "Anything but Ambrosia." Gabby answered with a grimace.
    "You still hate that stuff?"
    "When it's all you eat for a century or two, it gets old." 

===

Story submitted to Reedsy for their Weekly Writing Contest with the following Prompt: Write a story about someone whose job is to make miracles happen, literally or figuratively. 
 
https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/

Monday, June 6, 2022

Just a Little Chip

 

Just a Little Chip

===


    Late morning sunlight filtered through tall, stained glass windows resting in stone archways long since weathered by many years. While each window was emblazoned with their own images, some of battles of history past, others of myths and legends, and others yet of figureheads near forgotten, it was the light that entranced him most.
    The light, run through that stained glass, ignited into a rainbow of color every morning, using the stained glass as its paints to splash a spectrum of hues across every stone and brick that lined that long hall. And, with the miniscule bits of dust that drifted from the ceiling on particularly lucky days, the colors seemed to even dance in the air.
    Today was one of those lucky days.
    While RM-BH-022 lacked the mindful programming of some of his brethren to allow him to truly appreciate the beauty that the natural world provided, something about the light in that hallway always drew him back to it. He’d return to it day after day, mopping and sweeping and cleaning the corners like clockwork, even when his scheduling didn’t actually call for it.
    A bug. One of the arcanists called it.
    A quirk. Another said.
    Too much time to figure it out. The headmaster finally declared.
    Why would they care if the mechanized cleaner happened to clean one particular hall more often than required? It was doing its job after all. So long as it didn’t get in the way of the students attending.
    Perhaps that’s why they had spent so much time trying to figure out the little quirk.
    “Move it, tin-can.” one of the students said as they barreled down the hall, nearly slamming into him as he leaned over the mop, trying to get up a particularly stubborn bit of who-knows-what on the floor.
    A split second later, a human male, dressed in the long, flowing garments typical of the Illusion Branch, followed after the other student, calling after him and actually shoving aside the mechanical janitor.
    “Hey, wait up!” the human shouted as RM-BH-022 hit the ground with the clang of metal on stone.
    His mop, bucket, and several hand brooms went flying as he hit the ground, scattering cleaning implements in all directions with janitorial tools sliding across the floors, bouncing off the walls, and one particular brush banging against one of the stained glass windows.
    The hallway quickly filled with students as the period came to a close. No one paid the Forged in the hall any mind as he picked himself up off the stone, seemingly no worse for wear, began gathering the tools of his trade, and continued about his duties.
    After all, why would he, a drone seemingly identical to the twenty nine others that wandered the campus, stand out in any manner? They might as well pay attention to an individual brick in the wall.
    For that matter, why would they care about him leaving the hall? Surely he’s got somewhere to be and it couldn’t have anything to do with them being there.
    
    The next day passed much as any other.
    RM-BH-022 moved from task to task, passing students, faculty, and Forged alike, bustling about the campus without thought. When he found a mess, he cleaned it. When he arrived at his scheduled regions, he sanitized them. He worked quickly, diligently, thoroughly, and always stayed out of the way of his betters.
    He was everything he was programmed to be.
    Except for that bug.
    At the same time the following day, late in the morning, when the sun was just beginning to filter through stained glass, the hall one again had a single occupant.
    Mop in hand, RM-BH-022 slowly wiped and worked the old stone floors while the dustmotes, always the last and seemingly regularly forgotten element of his work, drifted down from the ceiling.
    As always, the hall lit up with the rainbow of colors, dozens of stained glass windows illuminated by the sun behind them.
    With an exception.
    Looking up from his mopping, RM-BH-022 realized that there was something different about the light in this room today. It was miniscule, but a single, small beam of sunlight shined unabashed through one of the windows.
    No color.
    Only pure, natural sunlight.
    RM-BH-022 set down the mop and made his way over to the offending window, leaning down to examine the minute difference in color. To the average student, it likely would have been left unnoticed for quite some time; either til someone was looking directly at it at the right time or if the damage got worse. However, to a Forged meant to pick out the most mundane details, the small, centimeter wide hole stood out as plainly as if someone had put their fist through the glass.
    It was the same window he had been in front of the day before when he was knocked over. The one his hand-broom had hit.
    He ran his finger over the hole, watching the light appear and reappear and noting the slight difference in heat that it put out compared to the filtered light. Again, it would be nothing to any regular person, but he wasn’t.
    RM-BH-022 knew without checking that he did not have the ability to repair the glass. While all of it had been cast by artisans several centuries back, repair required a mage’s touch; someone with the ability to fix it without removing or warping the precious window.
    There was nothing he could do, so why should he waste anymore time than just reporting it and moving on?
    He stepped back away from the miniscule hole in to see the larger picture.
    The window before him, like the rest of the windows in the hall, was emblazoned with something significant to the original founders of the Academy. This one, though RM-BH-022 himself did not know it, showed the principle hero of the War of the Gryphons; a man by the name of Hrothnar the Wise.
    In the window, Hrothnar, cloaked heavily in red velvets and brown leathers, stands upon a hill, one hand extended to point towards something unseen, his other hand at his side, loosely holding a tome. Behind him, set in relief, before a boiling sea of blue and white, seemingly a hundred Gryphon-mounted Cavaliers wearing White, Silver, and Gold and brandishing swords, axes, and spears, fly forward towards where Hrothnar points.
    Were he actually studying here, he’d likely know that this was the turning point of that War. He’d know that Hrothnar, having chartered an agreement with the Gryphons using the aide of his brothers-in-arms, a Druidic Shaman by the name of Colgan and the Ranger Le’ara, used the power of the Gryphon riders to overcome the tyrannical Kingdom of Trevania. He’d likely also learn that this was the first recorded instance of Gryphon-Human relations and one of the founding moments that would eventually lead to a multitude of achievements for the Human species; in particular the dawn of the Erengale Empire, which still to this day relied heavily on the regal creatures.
    But, to be fair, he would have also likely fallen asleep were he to have that level of comprehension.
    “On your left!” a voice shouted behind him before, a moment later, something slammed into the back of his head.
    And his head went through the window.
    The glass shattered loudly, exploding outward in a sparkling array of ruby reds and emerald greens that showered the lawns four stories below the window, though RM-BH-022 only had a split second to comprehend this before momentum of the shove finished slamming his face into the stone windowsill.
    “Caleb! You broke the window!” a second, familiar voice shouted.
    “Yea, whatever. They can bill me.”
    RM-BH-022 leaned up for a moment, the action causing his neck and back to fight against him, and saw the same two from the day before. The second student, a human in Illusionist robes, and the first, a blonde haired half-elf wearing the same.
    Crick.
    RM-BH-022 looked up just as the weakened window started to crumble.
    ShhhCRACKcrack!
    And as it gave way directly on top of him.

    “Testing. Testing.”
    “Seems like audio cues are working well. Visual should be coming online shortly.”
    “You sure you aren’t worried about that chip?”
    “It’s fine. The restrictions the inhibitor chip place on them are just redundant backup. Their programming is really what takes care of it. Besides, mending the broken head and shoulders was already a nuisance. We’d have to replace the entire chassis to replace that chip.”
    “Okay. If you insist. I’m just wondering if we shouldn’t wait til it can be replaced.”
    “Yea, right. You want to talk to the headmaster about ordering a party down to Ironrock Keep to find the gems required to make one?”
    “Not really.”
    “It’ll be fine. It’s just a custodial Forged. What’s it gonna do? Mop aggressively?”
    “Yea. You’re prolly right.”
    The world, all at once, snapped into stark relief. Brilliant blue and white lights glew all around and at him while a smaller gnome male, his hair shock white and tied back, leaned forward with some sort of metal instrument.
    “Begin tracking.”
    Doing as he was told, RM-BH-022’s eyes focused on the metal instrument before him and the gnome, no, the biologic known as Felros, the head artificer, proceeded to test his visual acuity. The other biologic, a dwarf female called Elna, the head arcanist, took notes as they worked.
    “Good.” Felros declared proudly.
    The two started saying something. Was it to him? Was it to each other? He was having trouble focusing on them. What were they saying? Did it matter? It probably didn’t matter, right? Why would it matter?
    And for that matter, why was the other biologic so flushed? Her skin seemed oddly red. Was it always like that? Had he just never noticed. And she was so…wet around the edges. Particularly under the arms. Actually, so was the first biologic. His lips in particular. Everytime he talked, he could hear the saliva slapping on his lips. And everytime either of them moved, they sounded…squishy.
    Were they always squishy?
    “Repeat.” Felros said with a snap of his little meaty appendages. “Designation number.”
    “Sir…” the other biologic said, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Something seems off.”
    “Enough, Elna.” the old, frail little biologic snapped at the stouter one. “Designation number. Now.”
    “Designation Number: Ru..Ru… RuM-BuH-022.” RuM-BuH-022 responded in an unfamiliar, chipper voice.
    “Seems like that replacement voice circuit might be bad.” the fat female biologic commented.
    “Whatever. It’s not like they’re conversationalists.” the little, easily broken biologic said dismissively. “Objective.”
    “Objective as last: Monitor, maintain, and Sanitize grounds for Academy.”
    “Retain Objective as Last and begin primary programming.”
    “Acknowledged.”
    RuM-BuH-022 stood and walked past the squishable, disgusting little biologics and made his way promptly out of the room without another word.
    “See. Voice circuit works fine. It was just his designation number that was the problem.”

    The next day did not pass like any other.
    RuM-BuH-022 moved aimlessly from place to place, passing students, faculty, and Forged alike, seemingly dragging as he was unable to focus on any task. His head and body felt strange. Almost foreign. As though he were wearing the metal of another and someone had left a beehive behind in his head. He didn’t work though he notated those locations that really should have been.
    He felt like he was drifting and, despite answering what he knew he was supposed to say, he felt no direction.
    No programming.
    The only habit that felt right came at the same time the following day, late in the morning, when the sun was just beginning to filter through stained glass.
    The damage from the day before had already been fixed. The mages had been by, no doubt due to dozens of complaints from students about the dangerous conditions of a broken, twenty foot window, and already mended Hrothnar the Wise. The window was good as new without even the minor chip to speak of.
    For long minutes, RuM-BuH simply stood there, staring up again at the stained glass window. From time to time, he’d glance to and fro, marveling at the glittering colors that seemed to drift in the air and paint the walls, but mostly he just marveled at the window.
    Who was this man?
    What was his story?
    Where could he fi-
    “Watch it, Ro-”
    Rum-Buh spun in place, already anticipating the shove that was coming, and perfect, metal fingers clasped around fragile, meaty wrist. There was a crunch as pathetic bone splintered under barely trying servos and the ensuing scream of pain from the little Illusionist biologic was promptly cut off as a single metal hand closed over his mouth.
    “What?!” the second biologic Rum’Buh already knew was going to be there shouted. “Caleb!”
    A thousand things ran through his mind in a moment, but something bubbled up that felt right. Felt correct.
    “Please. Do not interrupt the Custodians. We are helping to make this your home away from home.” came out a chipper, robotic voice.
    Releasing both the little biologic’s mouth and shattered radius and ulna, Rume’Buh shoved him harshly to the stone floor.
    “Caleb!” the second one shouted again as he dropped to the ground by his friend.
    “It appears you have suffered an injury from tampering with facility maintenance Forged. This would be inadvisable in the future as the machines that maintain this facility are much stronger and more durable than you.” He continued in that same chipper voice. “I recommend reporting to the physician. Would you like me to take you there?”
    “No!” the second biologic shouted as the first sobbed, holding the purple and red mess of an arm. “We-we got it.”
    “Carry on then.” Rume’Buh said as he turned and walked away, admiring the gleaming colors of the hall.
    They were gone before the rest of the students arrived.
    And neither saw the smile that graced his metal lips.
    Pushing his way through the quickly crowding hall, he continued on through the gathering flood of stinky, sweaty bodies until he crossed outside into a small courtyard that looked down onto others below it. Flowers hung from vines sneaking through trestles above and snaked their ways along columns and benches. Some students were gathered here, but many were thankfully quiet.
    With an exception.
    “I’m telling you, you need to stop talking to that guy.”
    “You’re telling me. He’s the one that keeps showing up in my dreams. At least your’s doesn’t talk.”
    “I don’t think the talking is the problem.”
    Two male biologics, similar in appearance despite the difference in hair color, sat off to one side speaking over a small lunch. One, the blonde speaking about dreams, appeared particularly haggard and looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in several days.
    “What’s up, boys!” Rume’Buh heard shouted from behind.
    Turning to look back at the third voice, another blond haired biologic came walking through door of the courtyard, waving to the first two.
    “What’s Up?” Rume’buh responded.
    The two biologics both fell silent and a queer smile cross the third one’s lips as, looking to Rume’buh for the first time, a chuckle escaped his lips.
    “What’s up to you, too, big guy.”
    “Rume’buh.”
    “Sorry?” the blonde biologic responded.
    “I think you made a friend.” One of the two said as they walked up to the third.
    “Didn’t know they could talk.” the other said.
    “I am Rume’buh.” Rume’buh clarified.
    “Arioch.” the third one responded before pointing to the other two. “That’s Locke and Pal, though don’t make me tell you which is which.”
    “Nice to meet you.” Rume’buh declared.
    “Huh. I didn’t know they could talk.”

Sunday, October 20, 2019

Nemesis - Betrayal

Image result for nemesis game captain
Copyright 'Captain' from Nemesis by Awakened Realms.


    The klaxon’s call fell away in rush.
    The screaming, blaring siren had filled his ears nearly non-stop for the last hour since waking cold and confused in the hibernatorium. At the time, even facing down the mutilated body of one his crew, the captain had known what to do.
    The sirens’ call was a call to action.
    A call that his ship was in danger, his crew was in danger, and he had to act to keep them safe.
    There were a few components to deal with first, however.
    First, whatever was responsible for the emergency, whatever intruders had found their way on board: they had to be dealt with. A full purging of the airlock system could be useful and could be triggered remotely for once his crew was back in cold sleep. Hell, the jump to hyperdrive itself might be all he needs to turn whatever beasts had made this mess into a fine stew on his walls.
    But, if he was going to deal with the intruders, he had to insure the ship was in good shape. He had to check the fire suppression systems to make sure nothing was severely damaged and the ship wouldn’t burn up while they were all asleep. He had to make sure the engines were functional. And he had to make sure they were still en-route for Earth.
    Easy.
    But that was an hour ago.
    The surgical room had seemed like a boon in the chaos the crew had found themselves in. It had already been used successfully by several of the crew, the captain included, to remove the monstrous little beasts that implanted themselves inside a human host. But modern medicine is two steps short of a miracle and he and the lead scientist were then resting after their impromptu surgery.
    And then the wall was gone.
    One moment they had been laying there, pain-killer still rushing through their brains, quietly discussing what the best next step was in getting to the fire suppression systems, when the wall simply wasn’t there anymore and the captain was staring past it into a void of blacks and greens and dripping things.
    A monster unlike any other.
    While the captain still knew what he needed to do not only for his own survival, but the survival of all the men and women under his command, it didn’t mean he was thrilled about it.
    The other monsters they’d seen up til now had been terrifying, but feasible. They were all sharp edges and smooth surfaces; an amalgamation of carapace and claws and fury. They were big, easily 8 feet tall, but management. This one, on the other hand, the one that stood before the captain and his crew mate, was a whole different category all together.
    If this was anything, it was the other uglies’ mama.
    Tendrils of thick, viscous slime splattered across the shattered remains of the interior wall leading back towards Cargo Room Alpha. This beast was unlike any before it; hunched and in the cramped cabin space, the captain felt it had to easily stand a good fifteen feet or more if it could stand up entirely in the smaller space. It had torn through the interior wall as easily as a child tears through tissue paper and now the eyeless beast seemed to be transfixed on them, slowly crawling through the cramped space and seeming to fill the entire surgical room with its seething black mass of spikes and armor.
    “No. Not thrilled about this at all.” The captain grumbled as he slipped his cigarette, one of many antiques he cared, back into his mouth and took a long drag.
    “W-what?” the lead scientist nearly whimpered. “Thrilled? What are you talking about?!”
    The captain grumbled and shook his head, drawing the old six-shooter from his side. The weight was satisfying in his hand and the draw of cold black metal against worn leather was a comfort.
    He focused on that.
    Not on the towering beast drawing in around them.
    “Get out of here. Get to the escape pods.” The captain said through a smile, his breath hissing out in streams of white smoke. “I’ll meet up with you once I’m done with this one.”
    The scientist stared, open-mouthed at the captain.
    And the beast lunged.
    “NOW!” The captain bellowed, firmly shoving a foot in the wheelchair-bound man’s chest and rolling him away against his will before diving in the opposite direction.
    The beast bellowed and roared, slamming computer bays and destroying sensitive equipment. It fell short of the captain, being unable to maneuver in the small space. Its sharp, elongated tail bashed about and, a moment later, there was a scream for the scientist. However, as the captain tried desperately to spot the man behind the seething mass of anger and hatred, the other man quickly disappeared down a side hall and away from the chaos.
    Good.
    “Over here you ugly, son-of-a-bitch.” Motioning with his pistol and pointing it directly at the thing’s opening mouth.
    BOOM!
    In the small space, the antique revolver’s shot seemed to explode like a cannon. The round punched a whole clean through the monster’s fangs and exploded out the other side with enough force that the captain briefly worried he might break the very engines he just checked on.
    Whatever.
    BOOM!
    The creature’s screech of pain was so loud that the air rushed from his lungs with the force.
    Whatever.
    BOOM!
    The beast whirled and lunged. Despite the awe inspiring size and the absolute destruction the creature wrought, the captain quickly realized his own advantage. While the creature had seemingly unparalleled strength, the sheer size worked to a disadvantage when trying to operate in the smaller surgery room. Were he in the Cargo Bay that it had come from, he didn’t doubt it would probably already be done with him and moving on to the scientist who had fled.
    But they weren’t there.
    They were here.
    BOOM!
    Each shot was careful.
    Each shot was clean.
    Each shot ripped clean through the inky black carapace with satisfying crunches.
    BOOM!
    The beast hit the ground, shaking the very ship beneath his feet. It weakly clawed towards him, unrelenting; hissing and gurgling as it went.
    “That’s what I thought.” The captain said. “You came in here talking a big game. Acting like you own the fucking place.”
    The beast dragged itself closer.
    “But I have news for you.” He continued. “You need to figure out who you’re fucking with before you try to take a man’s ship. Choose the wrong man, and you’re in for a bad time.”
    The monster was almost on top of him.
    But close enough.
    “Sorry, friend.” He said, almost placing the revolver’s muzzle against the hard shell of the hissing monster. “But I’m the captain. Now get off my fucking ship.”
    BOOM!
    The beast stopped crawling.
    For a long moment, the captain simply stared at the mountain of a creature before him and how its black carapace filled most of the surgical room and said nothing. His breath escaped him in a long, slow sigh and then the smile reasserted itself.
    “That’s what I thought.” He muttered, wisps of smoke trailing out with each word.
   Flipped open the weapon, the captain reloaded the antique six-shooter with renewed confidence. If he could take down something like this, there was nothing to stand in his way of dealing with the rest. He just had to make sure they got home safe though.
    Everything was going to be fine after-all.
    With a quick shuffle around the gargantuan corpse, he made his way after the lead scientist and, with a turn and a quick run here and there down a few darkened hallways, he found the fire suppression system.
    But something was wrong.
    Stepping into the bay of computer terminals, the starboard door behind him suddenly slammed shut.
    And then the bow door.
    And the port.
    And the stern.
    “Sorry about this.” a familiar voice chided over the intercom.
    The soldier.
    They had woken up together but the coward of a man had run off the moment they had woken up to ‘check something’. The man had been added to the company roster a day before launch for ‘additional safety’ and disappeared the moment they needed someone with his skills.
    Skills at killing and little else.
    At the time, the captain had been pissed that the man with the biggest gun and the most training to use it had suddenly run away.
    Not things made a bit more sense.
    “You have to understand. They paid me a lot of money…” the man spoke over the tinny intercom.
    “The fuck are you talking about?” asked the captain as he approached the port side door. The lead scientist, to his surprise, was looking back at him through the viewport, fear in his eyes. “What are you doing with the door systems? I already dealt with that thing back there.”
    “Oh, I know. I was watching on the monitors. Quite impressive.”
    “Then what the fuck are you doing?”
    “My job.”
    Of course you are.
    A new klaxon suddenly sounded in the room, replacing the one from before. Cycling red and gold lights threatened any space faring man’s worst nightmare.
    His worst nightmare.
    The lead scientist was now in a panic. He was screaming for the mechanic who the captain could see, but not hear, running down the hallway towards the closed doors.
    “Your job.” The captain said with burgeoning anger. “You the one that let all these monsters on-board then? You the one who killed all my crew?!”
    “No.” came the clipped response. “That was just a useful distraction.”
    “Then what’s your job?”
    “You.”
    The captain closed his eyes.
    Through the pressure doors, he felt like he just might be able to just hear the sounds of the panicked screams of his crew. He could see them on the other side of the door frantically tearing at wires near the door panel.
    They were trying to save him, their desperation clear by their frantic motion.
    They knew what was coming and so did he.
    The fire suppression system, like any critical control circuit on his ship, was directly linked to a local airlock cycle system. The idea was to all for critical circuits to be replaced completely when needed and, in the instance of catastrophic fires or intruders on a ship, the air could be cycled out as an absolute failsafe in key locations.
    Kind of an ironic location given the circumstances really.
    “Who paid you?” the captain asked simply.
    “If you must know, it was your father. But he has the entire backing of the board, so really take your pick on who you want to blame.”
    “Makes sense.”
    “If it’s any consolation, I really did respect you. Takes guts to do what you did. And that was before you killed that thing back there.”
    “In that case, let me ask for a favor.” The captain said coldly.
    “I’m not stopping the cycle.”
    “I’m not asking you to, you dumb son of a bitch.” The captain growled. “I’m just asking that you make sure my people get home. And make sure these things don’t.”
    There was silence over the intercom for a long period before it crackled back to life.
    “You have my word.”
    The captain glanced back through the viewport. The scientist was crying. The mechanic was desperately tapping something on a tiny wrist computer. Cables were strewn everywhere.
    It didn’t matter though.
    Time was up.
    “One other thing.” The captain said softly as he looked up towards the fissures forming in the airlock seal.
    “Yea?” came the tinny voice.
    “You’re a real piece of shit.”
    “Yea. I know.”
    The air rushed out.
    The captain flew towards the void.
    And the klaxon’s call fell away in rush.