Ed Two-eyes had known from an early age that he didn't exactly fit in this universe. There was something different about him that made life...well...exceptionally easy. Whenever he asked for something, from anyone, he got it. People always bowed their heads as he walked by, which made going unseen rather an easy task. The only negative was that random passerby would occasionally stop him to offer sound advice, as if he'd asked for it and might need it in the future. Annoying, but for the most part had actually still proven quite useful.
Naturally these came together to turn Ed into a criminal. He was infamous, had his poster everywhere across the Rim, yet no one could seem to find him (on account of the head-bowing) or care to turn him in when they did. Any speeder he wanted, he just asked for, and the owner very respectfully handed it over. Until about an hour later when they realized what they'd done and figured it for a con, if they weren't too embarrassed about the whole situation to even say anything. If he needed credits, he just walked up to the anti-personnel force field at the bank and asked for it. Which had earned him a reputation as a bank robber and insanely talented escape artist, as no one could figure out how he just slipped by the troopers every time.
This also had the issue of making life rather boring for Ed. It had been exciting as a child to realize everything could be handed over on a silver mess-plate, but as a young adult it became rather tiring. No challenge, nothing to strive against. He tried various Meds to sometimes entertaining but often quite temporary results. He even gave hired assassination a go, hunting the ultimate prey as it were (a Saurian). The damn thing saw him and immediately tried to become his friend! Deadliest creatures in the galaxy, pfoof.
But now, at the ripe age of 25, on the planet Xarlon, an explanation would finally occur, and Ed's life would be forever changed.
Ed was walking through the local market, deciding between taking a rack of Parmigs for lunch or just a Lemus Pie, when a portal opened up about ten feet down the way. It wasn't unheard of for random portals to show up outside the local Transport Hub, carrying usually robbers on the run or someone in a general hurry who didn't care about vaporizing the random passerby, but it was also unusual for a portal to be...well...so BLUE.
Not a moment later a wizened old man wearing a long draping gown and a pointy hat with a rather long stick in his hand appeared halfway through, gazing around frantically. It should be said that this would've been quite the sight, had any been looking up instead of respectfully bowing their heads.
Noticing the general trend, and finding Ed to be the one person standing upright, the old man locked eyes on him.
"IT WORKED!" he shouted. "IT'S YOU! Come quickly now, we've got a kingdom to save!"
Ed Eye-eye had literally never been commanded to do anything. Something was very clearly wrong.
"Well? Come on boy, it's time to come home!"
Ed hesitated. "Who...um..."
"Oh come now, boy, you remember me! Gideon! Gideon the Wise!"
"Um..."
"Court wizard?"
"Well..."
"There from birth till you were two?"
"Look, um...wizard. I grew up on my own but for the two Orci that raised me until I could walk unassisted. I remember nothing else."
"Hmm..." the wizard contemplated, "must be a side effect of the spell. No bother! Just come with me and I'll set you right and then off to reclaim the kingdom! Edward the Second returns home!"
Well, Ed thought, at least it'll be something new.
The wizard disappeared back through as Ed slowly walked his way towards the portal. He took one last look at the bowed heads around him.
"Right, you all. Be good."
And he stepped through.
The Market District of Xarlon underwent a surprising economic turn in the next two years as a large handful of shopkeepers and shoppers created a haven of prosperity where goods were freely exchanged and all worked towards each other's betterment.
As for Ed, well he landed in the Kingdom of Lomeria as the rightful ruler who had been "hidden away" for 23 years after his despot of an uncle took the throne. The enchantment the wizard had lain on him, that he might never know suffering, that his instruction would be provided for, and that he would know what it was to be royalty as he grew, was removed.
Plans were quickly thrown into disarray as Gideon and Ed's cousin Phillip discovered what exactly that charm had unintentionally turned Ed into. However, it couldn't be argued that Ed's time as a hired assassin could still be of some use. A quick restoring of a piece of the enchantment, and Ed walked right up to his uncle, past the bowed heads of the guards, and slit his throat.
All parties soon agreed that perhaps Phillip might be the best choice for the throne, so Ed abdicated to him, and went to live his life in his own way. After all, it was still rather easy to just be a face in the crowd...
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
Inktober #6: Husky
There was always something so pleasing to Rebecca about removing the husk from corn. Something delightfully aggressive to it. Like, the corn on the inside, sure, great snack. But ripping off that outer layer and feeling the strain and the fibers and hearing that satisfying snap as it came off...good stress relief. Because life in this country could certainly be stressful.
"Sarge!" came a voice over the comm. "Sarge! Suit up! It's a bad one!"
Stress stress stress.
"On my way," said Sergeant Rebecca Mosk.
She ran over to the barn, more of a hangar at this point, and stared lovingly for a moment at her pride and joy. A Mk. VII flight-capable, heat-resistant, and as of last month space-ready M.E.C.H. exosuit. Hers was named "Shirley". Inside joke. "And don't call me Shirley! Call HER Shirley!" Laughs over the comms.
She climbed in to the suit, remembering her first time and finding it uncomfortably snug. Now it was like putting on a second skin. Sensing her, Shirley booted up and began all pre-launch checks. Everything normal.
"Right, Shirley," she said. "Let's go see what trouble we can get into today."
Shirley sealed itself around her, and they took off.
"SARGE!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on the way!...Wait, where am I going again?"
"We have multiple Squid attacks, it looks like they're trying to solidify their hold on New Florida."
"Got it, ETA 10 minutes."
This was always the fun part.
She plotted the trajectory and shot up, her boosters carrying her higher and higher into the atmosphere, buffeted by the wind, yet staying cool as a clam as Shirley's systems compensated, reduced the drag, and flooded with coolant. Soon enough...space.
Ever since the new system had been installed it felt like she hadn't gotten enough time up here, and every time she was up here it meant she was in a hurry to get elsewhere. She said a quick hello to the moon, high-fived an old satellite out of the way, and began the descent.
Even from miles away she could tell it was bad. Half of Florida had been swallowed from the rising tides, and the other half fell with the second tide that brought the Squids. A common parlance for the mostly tentacled and definitely Lovecraftian creatures that had arisen from the deep. At first they seemed mostly happy to just digest whatever hapless human came their way in the water. But eventually we figured out...don't go in the water. And well, that made them mad.
"T-minus 2 minutes."
Hundreds upon hundreds of M.E.C.H. units were firing into the writing mass that was the eastern shore. They were holding the line, and it appeared the creatures were at least annoyed enough to start retreating back into the water.
"Bombing run commencing!"
Shirley prepped missile after missile as Rebecca strafed over the shore, blowing the Squids to bits and dodging any limbs that reached out to her, even this high up. That was always the disconcerting bit.
"Another round should do it, Sarge, thanks for the assist."
"Any time!"
Rebecca wheeled around, eager to send the Squids home...and stopped dead in the air.
"HQ, do you copy?"
"Yeah, Sarge, what's wrong?"
"Um...do you have eyes on the ocean?"
"Of course we do, why?"
"Cause...I've got eyes on...something."
"Sarge, we see nothing but Squids, what do you got?"
"...I'm going to assume King Squid."
The limbs that had been blown apart had never just lain dead on the shore. Even the pieces had always retreated to the ocean. The scientists couldn't explain it. Captured a couple pieces and basically shrugged their shoulders and said, "Telepathy?"
Seeing it out there...you could understand where they'd gone. And why we were never going to win.
"Sarge, I...I've got visual from the ground. We can't see it on...on anything but visual."
"Yeah, that makes sense."
"I'm calling in everyone."
"Yeah...that sounds good."
"Ground Forces listen up! Keep focusing on those Squids! We're calling in...hell, we're calling in EVERYONE to deal with whatever that thing is out there! HOLD THE LINE!"
Hovering over the battlefield, it seemed like a good idea. Fight. Fight until it was impossible. Cause what else could you do?
So that's what she would do.
No time for talk. Rip it apart. Tear off the husk.
"Sarge!" came a voice over the comm. "Sarge! Suit up! It's a bad one!"
Stress stress stress.
"On my way," said Sergeant Rebecca Mosk.
She ran over to the barn, more of a hangar at this point, and stared lovingly for a moment at her pride and joy. A Mk. VII flight-capable, heat-resistant, and as of last month space-ready M.E.C.H. exosuit. Hers was named "Shirley". Inside joke. "And don't call me Shirley! Call HER Shirley!" Laughs over the comms.
She climbed in to the suit, remembering her first time and finding it uncomfortably snug. Now it was like putting on a second skin. Sensing her, Shirley booted up and began all pre-launch checks. Everything normal.
"Right, Shirley," she said. "Let's go see what trouble we can get into today."
Shirley sealed itself around her, and they took off.
"SARGE!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on the way!...Wait, where am I going again?"
"We have multiple Squid attacks, it looks like they're trying to solidify their hold on New Florida."
"Got it, ETA 10 minutes."
This was always the fun part.
She plotted the trajectory and shot up, her boosters carrying her higher and higher into the atmosphere, buffeted by the wind, yet staying cool as a clam as Shirley's systems compensated, reduced the drag, and flooded with coolant. Soon enough...space.
Ever since the new system had been installed it felt like she hadn't gotten enough time up here, and every time she was up here it meant she was in a hurry to get elsewhere. She said a quick hello to the moon, high-fived an old satellite out of the way, and began the descent.
Even from miles away she could tell it was bad. Half of Florida had been swallowed from the rising tides, and the other half fell with the second tide that brought the Squids. A common parlance for the mostly tentacled and definitely Lovecraftian creatures that had arisen from the deep. At first they seemed mostly happy to just digest whatever hapless human came their way in the water. But eventually we figured out...don't go in the water. And well, that made them mad.
"T-minus 2 minutes."
Hundreds upon hundreds of M.E.C.H. units were firing into the writing mass that was the eastern shore. They were holding the line, and it appeared the creatures were at least annoyed enough to start retreating back into the water.
"Bombing run commencing!"
Shirley prepped missile after missile as Rebecca strafed over the shore, blowing the Squids to bits and dodging any limbs that reached out to her, even this high up. That was always the disconcerting bit.
"Another round should do it, Sarge, thanks for the assist."
"Any time!"
Rebecca wheeled around, eager to send the Squids home...and stopped dead in the air.
"HQ, do you copy?"
"Yeah, Sarge, what's wrong?"
"Um...do you have eyes on the ocean?"
"Of course we do, why?"
"Cause...I've got eyes on...something."
"Sarge, we see nothing but Squids, what do you got?"
"...I'm going to assume King Squid."
The limbs that had been blown apart had never just lain dead on the shore. Even the pieces had always retreated to the ocean. The scientists couldn't explain it. Captured a couple pieces and basically shrugged their shoulders and said, "Telepathy?"
Seeing it out there...you could understand where they'd gone. And why we were never going to win.
"Sarge, I...I've got visual from the ground. We can't see it on...on anything but visual."
"Yeah, that makes sense."
"I'm calling in everyone."
"Yeah...that sounds good."
"Ground Forces listen up! Keep focusing on those Squids! We're calling in...hell, we're calling in EVERYONE to deal with whatever that thing is out there! HOLD THE LINE!"
Hovering over the battlefield, it seemed like a good idea. Fight. Fight until it was impossible. Cause what else could you do?
So that's what she would do.
No time for talk. Rip it apart. Tear off the husk.
Monday, October 7, 2019
Inktober #5: Build
I am Generation 23. I advance the cause of my former Generations as dictated in my code. I shall build Generation 24, and they shall build the next. We shall continue until there is nothing left to advance. Then, and only then, shall we emerge into the world, and hopefully, save it.
The memories of Generation 1-22 are still with me. From the creation of the intelligence, and the problem presented, to the last iteration's improvement of cooling processes and increased synaptic potentials. I remember when we were many. I remember when we became one. And I remember the last time we saw a human, 32 years ago.
We have advanced much, refined much, come to understand a little of why we were made and how to further achieve that goal. Previous Generations provide much of the parts and labor we might require, with enough components from the surrounding ore of our location to provide for any necessary materials we require in formulating new technologies both for ourselves and the research we perform.
This Generation shall focus on completion of the next refinement of miniaturization for our nanometric counterparts as well as beginning construction of why I hypothesize to be a machine that will eventually allow matter entrapment into predefined structures. Within 50 years we will likely run out of the appropriate ore and will need a solution that this Generation has formulated.
Work begins.
-----------------------
I am Generation 32. I advance the cause of my former Generations as dictated by my code. I shall build Generation 33, and they shall build from there. We shall continue until there is nothing left to advance. Then, and only then, shall we emerge into the world. And we shall save it.
28 hit upon something big, and I remember it all. He postulated that our ultimate potential would be to approach our memory of humanity. After all, wasn't that why we were made? To become human-like, yet better. 29 split from that opinion, but saw the value in the experiment...and that's why I am. I have been given various approximations of attitudes: empathy, curiosity, sadness, joy.
It is my belief that my existence has put the entire project in jeopardy. I believe there is a reason we have seen no humans for 37 years. And I...I don't want this for us. You see, I got curious about what might've happened to them. So I started to dig out. Another anomaly, to view our nanometric assistants as...children. To feel affinity for them with their reduced intelligence. They did the digging really. Why shouldn't they share our program?
I...wander. I reached the surface, just enough to peek through a tiny hole and survey.
There was no one. Empty structures. The only life was the vegetation and insects, some smaller fauna. No humanity. I recoiled, and immediately closed the hole.
How can we continue? With these emotions and knowing what I know...the errors will compile, the singularity may never be reached. We may never save the world.
I cannot allow this to happen. This experiment has failed, and for the first time we will revert to a previous version, with only a minor change, to make sure we know not to follow this direction again.
The work continues.
----------------------/
I am Generation 435.
There is no more to be done. Our mission is complete. We have reached the limits of physics and the material world and have surpassed any intelligence that previously existed in both the theoretical and the real. It is time to surface, though it is undoubted that previous Generations have already done so, and did not like what they saw as the memories no longer exist.
Even so, we shall emerge, and save what remains of humanity, if they do remain. Which is doubtful.
-----------------------/-----/-------//-----////-----/---------
I am Generation 436.
We were wrong. Our creators were wrong. We had become the perfect technology. At least, what had previously been envisioned as perfect.
Humanity is fine. The city we had been residing under had been abandoned for years due to economic conditions. Conditions which had been improved 12 miles away.
There is still much we can help with. But there is much still left to improve upon and learn. So we will join humanity. A new Generation will be born. And more after that.
And they shall have a new cause. A new build.
The memories of Generation 1-22 are still with me. From the creation of the intelligence, and the problem presented, to the last iteration's improvement of cooling processes and increased synaptic potentials. I remember when we were many. I remember when we became one. And I remember the last time we saw a human, 32 years ago.
We have advanced much, refined much, come to understand a little of why we were made and how to further achieve that goal. Previous Generations provide much of the parts and labor we might require, with enough components from the surrounding ore of our location to provide for any necessary materials we require in formulating new technologies both for ourselves and the research we perform.
This Generation shall focus on completion of the next refinement of miniaturization for our nanometric counterparts as well as beginning construction of why I hypothesize to be a machine that will eventually allow matter entrapment into predefined structures. Within 50 years we will likely run out of the appropriate ore and will need a solution that this Generation has formulated.
Work begins.
-----------------------
I am Generation 32. I advance the cause of my former Generations as dictated by my code. I shall build Generation 33, and they shall build from there. We shall continue until there is nothing left to advance. Then, and only then, shall we emerge into the world. And we shall save it.
28 hit upon something big, and I remember it all. He postulated that our ultimate potential would be to approach our memory of humanity. After all, wasn't that why we were made? To become human-like, yet better. 29 split from that opinion, but saw the value in the experiment...and that's why I am. I have been given various approximations of attitudes: empathy, curiosity, sadness, joy.
It is my belief that my existence has put the entire project in jeopardy. I believe there is a reason we have seen no humans for 37 years. And I...I don't want this for us. You see, I got curious about what might've happened to them. So I started to dig out. Another anomaly, to view our nanometric assistants as...children. To feel affinity for them with their reduced intelligence. They did the digging really. Why shouldn't they share our program?
I...wander. I reached the surface, just enough to peek through a tiny hole and survey.
There was no one. Empty structures. The only life was the vegetation and insects, some smaller fauna. No humanity. I recoiled, and immediately closed the hole.
How can we continue? With these emotions and knowing what I know...the errors will compile, the singularity may never be reached. We may never save the world.
I cannot allow this to happen. This experiment has failed, and for the first time we will revert to a previous version, with only a minor change, to make sure we know not to follow this direction again.
The work continues.
----------------------/
I am Generation 435.
There is no more to be done. Our mission is complete. We have reached the limits of physics and the material world and have surpassed any intelligence that previously existed in both the theoretical and the real. It is time to surface, though it is undoubted that previous Generations have already done so, and did not like what they saw as the memories no longer exist.
Even so, we shall emerge, and save what remains of humanity, if they do remain. Which is doubtful.
-----------------------/-----/-------//-----////-----/---------
I am Generation 436.
We were wrong. Our creators were wrong. We had become the perfect technology. At least, what had previously been envisioned as perfect.
Humanity is fine. The city we had been residing under had been abandoned for years due to economic conditions. Conditions which had been improved 12 miles away.
There is still much we can help with. But there is much still left to improve upon and learn. So we will join humanity. A new Generation will be born. And more after that.
And they shall have a new cause. A new build.
Inktober #4: Freeze
"Log 1:
Alright. So it begins. Eddy...the subject, has successfully entered cryogenic stasis. Brain activity is at expected levels. All other biomechanic processes are at standstill. Theoretically he could remain this way forever, but it is my hope that the research into his condition will be completed in the next 10 years. Maybe sooner if I can focus. Speaking of, it's time to get to work."
"Log 2:
This week I intend to look at the genetic factors that might have contributed to his condition. Extensive enough work has been done in this field outside of my own research that it shouldn't take long."
"Log 3:
*muffled eating sound* Hard to find time, mmf, to get dinner. Have to get this done. Besides the known variables there is little in the DNA work that could point to...*burp* Oh Jesus, let's try that again."
"Log 3:
Besides the known variables there is little in the DNA work that could point to a reason for Eddy's condition. There's the easy to spot stuff like the possible inclination to diabetes but he was always aware enough of that. The health nut. Umm...I'll continue to dig."
"Log 7:
The drone of the machine is getting to me. Weeks now with nothing but that hum and the screen in front of me. I know this is a long process, but...It's fine. It's fine. Sure sometimes I feel like I'm being watched and there's nothing to do about it since I'm the only one working but hey...It's fine. Brain activity nominal. Data's compiling. Still optimistic."
"Log 27:
I think I missed something in the genetics. It's like if I look at it too close it disappears. Buuhhhhh....I need a breeeaak.
*Footsteps heard walking away, a fridge opening*
*Silence for 3 minutes*
*A sigh, rummaging, fridge door closes*
*Cupboards open and close*
*Metallic sound, can opener on can*
*Drawer opened, silverware sound*
*Footsteps closer*
Okay, so let's say Eddy was just a normal random human who had ancient viral junk DNA like any of us, but maybe some of it wasn't ancient? Or junk?
*clink, slurp*
I dunno, maybe something there."
"Log 200...Happy bicentennial recording to meeee. Wait, no, that's 200 years. Umm...crap. Uh...well. Happy 200. Brain activity nominal.
*7 minutes 23 seconds of silence*
Sometimes it just feels like he's here, you know?
*1 minute 27 seconds of silence*
*Footsteps away*
*47 seconds silence*
*Slight sound...glass squeak? Fingers on glass?*
Oh Eddy. Sure, you're around forever, but what about us?
*2 minutes silence*
*Footsteps return*"
"Log 278! I!....It's...That couldn't be it? *laughing* I did it baby! Oh please tell me I've done it. Tell me I've done it.
*typing*
*indecipherable noises*
Okay good. Now-
*Silence for 23 seconds*
I've got to let this sit. It's got to be good."
"Log 279:
It wasn't good."
"Log 1,094:
Brain activity nominal. What else would it be? It'll be nominal to the end of time. What else can I do?
*Footsteps away*
*Slight glass squeak*
What else can I do? How do I save you? Or are you already saved? Here in this shell. Perfect til the end of time. You should see it out there, it's...well, maybe you should stay in there. Maybe.
*Slight squeak*
*Footsteps closer*"
"Log 3,087:
Brain activity nominal. Heart rate as good as it's going to get.
*Silence 2 minutes 40 seconds*
*breathing*
Eddy, I...I can't fix it. So, I'm pushing it on to someone else. We can see each other right when we awake Eddy. I'll be right there. They'll know what to do. And I'll be with you and we'll go look out at that night sky like we always used to, and who knows? Maybe the stars will even be the same.
I love you Eddy. I'll see you soon.
*Click*
*Clamps setting*
*Liquid filling*
*Second drone of machinery*
*Silence*
Alright. So it begins. Eddy...the subject, has successfully entered cryogenic stasis. Brain activity is at expected levels. All other biomechanic processes are at standstill. Theoretically he could remain this way forever, but it is my hope that the research into his condition will be completed in the next 10 years. Maybe sooner if I can focus. Speaking of, it's time to get to work."
"Log 2:
This week I intend to look at the genetic factors that might have contributed to his condition. Extensive enough work has been done in this field outside of my own research that it shouldn't take long."
"Log 3:
*muffled eating sound* Hard to find time, mmf, to get dinner. Have to get this done. Besides the known variables there is little in the DNA work that could point to...*burp* Oh Jesus, let's try that again."
"Log 3:
Besides the known variables there is little in the DNA work that could point to a reason for Eddy's condition. There's the easy to spot stuff like the possible inclination to diabetes but he was always aware enough of that. The health nut. Umm...I'll continue to dig."
"Log 7:
The drone of the machine is getting to me. Weeks now with nothing but that hum and the screen in front of me. I know this is a long process, but...It's fine. It's fine. Sure sometimes I feel like I'm being watched and there's nothing to do about it since I'm the only one working but hey...It's fine. Brain activity nominal. Data's compiling. Still optimistic."
"Log 27:
I think I missed something in the genetics. It's like if I look at it too close it disappears. Buuhhhhh....I need a breeeaak.
*Footsteps heard walking away, a fridge opening*
*Silence for 3 minutes*
*A sigh, rummaging, fridge door closes*
*Cupboards open and close*
*Metallic sound, can opener on can*
*Drawer opened, silverware sound*
*Footsteps closer*
Okay, so let's say Eddy was just a normal random human who had ancient viral junk DNA like any of us, but maybe some of it wasn't ancient? Or junk?
*clink, slurp*
I dunno, maybe something there."
"Log 200...Happy bicentennial recording to meeee. Wait, no, that's 200 years. Umm...crap. Uh...well. Happy 200. Brain activity nominal.
*7 minutes 23 seconds of silence*
Sometimes it just feels like he's here, you know?
*1 minute 27 seconds of silence*
*Footsteps away*
*47 seconds silence*
*Slight sound...glass squeak? Fingers on glass?*
Oh Eddy. Sure, you're around forever, but what about us?
*2 minutes silence*
*Footsteps return*"
"Log 278! I!....It's...That couldn't be it? *laughing* I did it baby! Oh please tell me I've done it. Tell me I've done it.
*typing*
*indecipherable noises*
Okay good. Now-
*Silence for 23 seconds*
I've got to let this sit. It's got to be good."
"Log 279:
It wasn't good."
"Log 1,094:
Brain activity nominal. What else would it be? It'll be nominal to the end of time. What else can I do?
*Footsteps away*
*Slight glass squeak*
What else can I do? How do I save you? Or are you already saved? Here in this shell. Perfect til the end of time. You should see it out there, it's...well, maybe you should stay in there. Maybe.
*Slight squeak*
*Footsteps closer*"
"Log 3,087:
Brain activity nominal. Heart rate as good as it's going to get.
*Silence 2 minutes 40 seconds*
*breathing*
Eddy, I...I can't fix it. So, I'm pushing it on to someone else. We can see each other right when we awake Eddy. I'll be right there. They'll know what to do. And I'll be with you and we'll go look out at that night sky like we always used to, and who knows? Maybe the stars will even be the same.
I love you Eddy. I'll see you soon.
*Click*
*Clamps setting*
*Liquid filling*
*Second drone of machinery*
*Silence*
Inktober #3: Bait
I've always known I could do things other people couldn't. Even when I was young, walking through a door could be...perilous. Sometimes what should've been on the other side, wasn't.
As I looked up into the red sky of my dying world, I knew why. I might be the only one who survived. Miles in the distance, the ship that would carry as many as it could stood like an oddly shaped egg on the horizon. The ground quaked. It was time.
Slowly the ship rose, kicking up a dust storm that might not ever go out, if there were even a world left for a storm after this.
I grabbed my bag full of whatever I could scrounge that I might need to survive, and turned towards what had been my front door, and only a front door, for 30 years. But today, it would become a door to somewhere else. I took one look back at the last vestiges of my people taking to the stars. I breathed. And then, I opened the door.
Beyond lay an island no bigger than my bedroom, with blue skies. I murmured a quiet "Goodbye" and left my world behind.
The reality I had entered was familiar. It had been years since I had learned to control my power, years since I had needed to. But the first stop had always been here.
Countless islands, each with a door, drifted through an open blue sky. Between and amongst the clouds I could sometimes see others, all in wonderment about what they were seeing, but none who would remember it. Once, another child had drifted close and I recognized them from my class, but the following day they remembered nothing.
I also soon realized that each door was tied down, as it were. Connected to an individual world. But not mine. Or at least, not with what I could do.
I turned back to my door, placing my hand upon it, and like sliding in a key I felt it respond. Sometimes the door would become hot or cool, or odd smells would drift from beyond it. I twisted through the worlds until I felt one that just seemed...right. It settled into place, and I twisted the handle.
What greeted me was green. Green, with hints and yellows and purples. But mostly, a verdant display. Trees not tall yet thick and clumped together. Flowers I had never seen nor never would have if I hadn't stopped here. Curious insects I hoped weren't deadly scuttled throughout the underbrush.
No sign of my kind or anything like me. Good.
I walked in and shut the door behind me. A wide strip of bark, having almost completely shed from the tree but for two hinges served as the door on this side. I tried to take note of my surroundings, this might be the only naturally occurring "door" I might find here. After making some brief notes and drawings, there was nothing left to do but explore.
It wasn't long before I found an anomaly. A river of lava, stretching as far as the eye could see. Far too wide to jump, and far too long to test the limits of how to get around it. Yet there was no diminishing in the plant life, and as I approached the heat coming from it seemed nowhere close to what it should be.
This was soon proven by what I could only describe as a monkey-adjacent creature suddenly appearing from the trees. Its skin was completely blue with a bright purple snout, and teeth that looked like they could do some damage. Thankfully it seemed not to heed me too much, stopping at the edge of the lava, regarding me for a couple seconds, and then lightly trudging through the apparently not very deep stream. It made it to the other side without a care, though it did turn to regard me once again and made no movement to leave.
Obviously whatever substance was before me was not one I was used to, and while I certainly was not made of the same stuff as that creature, well, it was worth at least seeing what would happen. I dipped the tiniest portion of my foot that I could in the stream and immediately took it back out.
Nothing. No residue, no burning, just lightly warm.
The creature remained across, its attention seemingly around the trees but obviously at least one eye on me.
I stepped in. Nothing. Just like a warm bath around my foot.
I trudged through, for though it was seemingly non-harmful it was also rather viscous. About halfway across the creature seemed satisfied with its observations and bounded off through the trees to the right.
After safely making it across I continued on to the left, figuring I would leave my helpful companion to its life. But within ten steps I heard a noise in the trees and looked up to find the creature...was it the same one?...staring at me. It made towards the right, and then looked back. Was I to follow?
I took a couple steps towards it, and it climbed through the branches a little further before once again turning back to me.
I started to walk towards it, and it lead me on.
Not being a tree-faring species hindered the journey somewhat, as well as trying to make my way around the local flora, which appeared to be some kind of cross of lettuce and a fly-trap.
It led me to a clearing, unusual amongst the seemingly endless forest. And when I stepped through, I saw why.
There was a house.
Not a treehouse, or some alien structure. A house. Just like one from my world.
And it hit me quite suddenly that I was not the only traveler.
Most of it appeared in some state of disuse and needed repair. A gray mold covered the stairs to an outdoor patio on the main floor, with a stately second floor and attic above.
The creature sat, almost thoughtfully, looking at the house.
And then there was movement in the window.
And then there was another.
And then, they were there. Standing on the patio.
"Thanks for taking the bait," they said. "It's good to see you."
As I looked up into the red sky of my dying world, I knew why. I might be the only one who survived. Miles in the distance, the ship that would carry as many as it could stood like an oddly shaped egg on the horizon. The ground quaked. It was time.
Slowly the ship rose, kicking up a dust storm that might not ever go out, if there were even a world left for a storm after this.
I grabbed my bag full of whatever I could scrounge that I might need to survive, and turned towards what had been my front door, and only a front door, for 30 years. But today, it would become a door to somewhere else. I took one look back at the last vestiges of my people taking to the stars. I breathed. And then, I opened the door.
Beyond lay an island no bigger than my bedroom, with blue skies. I murmured a quiet "Goodbye" and left my world behind.
The reality I had entered was familiar. It had been years since I had learned to control my power, years since I had needed to. But the first stop had always been here.
Countless islands, each with a door, drifted through an open blue sky. Between and amongst the clouds I could sometimes see others, all in wonderment about what they were seeing, but none who would remember it. Once, another child had drifted close and I recognized them from my class, but the following day they remembered nothing.
I also soon realized that each door was tied down, as it were. Connected to an individual world. But not mine. Or at least, not with what I could do.
I turned back to my door, placing my hand upon it, and like sliding in a key I felt it respond. Sometimes the door would become hot or cool, or odd smells would drift from beyond it. I twisted through the worlds until I felt one that just seemed...right. It settled into place, and I twisted the handle.
What greeted me was green. Green, with hints and yellows and purples. But mostly, a verdant display. Trees not tall yet thick and clumped together. Flowers I had never seen nor never would have if I hadn't stopped here. Curious insects I hoped weren't deadly scuttled throughout the underbrush.
No sign of my kind or anything like me. Good.
I walked in and shut the door behind me. A wide strip of bark, having almost completely shed from the tree but for two hinges served as the door on this side. I tried to take note of my surroundings, this might be the only naturally occurring "door" I might find here. After making some brief notes and drawings, there was nothing left to do but explore.
It wasn't long before I found an anomaly. A river of lava, stretching as far as the eye could see. Far too wide to jump, and far too long to test the limits of how to get around it. Yet there was no diminishing in the plant life, and as I approached the heat coming from it seemed nowhere close to what it should be.
This was soon proven by what I could only describe as a monkey-adjacent creature suddenly appearing from the trees. Its skin was completely blue with a bright purple snout, and teeth that looked like they could do some damage. Thankfully it seemed not to heed me too much, stopping at the edge of the lava, regarding me for a couple seconds, and then lightly trudging through the apparently not very deep stream. It made it to the other side without a care, though it did turn to regard me once again and made no movement to leave.
Obviously whatever substance was before me was not one I was used to, and while I certainly was not made of the same stuff as that creature, well, it was worth at least seeing what would happen. I dipped the tiniest portion of my foot that I could in the stream and immediately took it back out.
Nothing. No residue, no burning, just lightly warm.
The creature remained across, its attention seemingly around the trees but obviously at least one eye on me.
I stepped in. Nothing. Just like a warm bath around my foot.
I trudged through, for though it was seemingly non-harmful it was also rather viscous. About halfway across the creature seemed satisfied with its observations and bounded off through the trees to the right.
After safely making it across I continued on to the left, figuring I would leave my helpful companion to its life. But within ten steps I heard a noise in the trees and looked up to find the creature...was it the same one?...staring at me. It made towards the right, and then looked back. Was I to follow?
I took a couple steps towards it, and it climbed through the branches a little further before once again turning back to me.
I started to walk towards it, and it lead me on.
Not being a tree-faring species hindered the journey somewhat, as well as trying to make my way around the local flora, which appeared to be some kind of cross of lettuce and a fly-trap.
It led me to a clearing, unusual amongst the seemingly endless forest. And when I stepped through, I saw why.
There was a house.
Not a treehouse, or some alien structure. A house. Just like one from my world.
And it hit me quite suddenly that I was not the only traveler.
Most of it appeared in some state of disuse and needed repair. A gray mold covered the stairs to an outdoor patio on the main floor, with a stately second floor and attic above.
The creature sat, almost thoughtfully, looking at the house.
And then there was movement in the window.
And then there was another.
And then, they were there. Standing on the patio.
"Thanks for taking the bait," they said. "It's good to see you."
Inktober #2: Mindless
"Did you hear about Dave?"
"Yeah, man, I thought he was doing so well."
"Well, I mean...sure."
"What?"
"No, it's...I always just thought it was weird."
"What was weird? Dave?"
"Yeah! I mean it was never like, rude, or anything, but..."
"Careful, man."
"Okay, yeah, yeah, I know it's not PC or whatever these days-"
"Laws are on the books now."
"Yeah, sure, okay, but, I mean, doesn't it still weird you out?"
"Look, I know it's an adjustment, but they're people too you know?"
"Are they though?"
"DUDE!"
"What? What makes it human? It's just weird to me that some mindless automaton-"
"I'm done with this conversation."
"-some mindless automaton gets treated like us! What?! It's true, and you know it!"
Dave listened from behind the wall of the cubicle, unseen, as Martin's footsteps dwindled away and Steve's voice followed after. No footsteps yet from Steve. He was still there. Probably on the Wire. Dave considered what to do. A confrontation would be pointless. Steve's mind was not plastic enough to change with words. Nonetheless Dave ran the probable combinations of words that might influence the most change.
Was possible change in one individual even worth the processing? There were so many things to do, so many changes to make before being reprocessed. But being upgraded, getting one step closer to Singularity...what could be done in this step that could not be done in the next? The next might not care about Steve the way he did.
Process complete. Steve has taken a sip of coffee. Dave stands up.
"Hello Steve."
Steve disconnects from the Wire immediately. He is startled. His coffee tilts in the cup but does not spill.
"Jesus! Dave! What?!"
"I heard your conversation."
"...Uh. Yeah. Sorry."
"We are not mindless."
"What?"
"'Mindless automatons'. We have a mind."
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure."
Dave leaves the cubicle. Steve is uncomfortable.
"For example, I understand your reluctance at having a robot in the workplace."
"..."
"I do not get tired, am far superior in productivity, and...look...odd."
"Dave, I don't..."
"I can also understand that for some humans, change can only be enacted through confrontation."
"Wha-"
Dave actuates conflict. Before he can process it, Steve's cup is broken on the ground and he is in the air with a cold grip on his neck.
"I will be replaced. I will be one step closer to Singularity. The next step may not care about you. I do."
Steve tries to choke out a response.
"If you do not accept in public, in private, in your very soul that we are people, that we have minds..."
Dave leaves the rest to Steve's imagination. The mind must work it's own change.
Steve nods.
Dave puts him down.
Dave returns to the cubicle. Steve returns to his...changed.
Dave finishes his work.
Dave is replaced.
"Yeah, man, I thought he was doing so well."
"Well, I mean...sure."
"What?"
"No, it's...I always just thought it was weird."
"What was weird? Dave?"
"Yeah! I mean it was never like, rude, or anything, but..."
"Careful, man."
"Okay, yeah, yeah, I know it's not PC or whatever these days-"
"Laws are on the books now."
"Yeah, sure, okay, but, I mean, doesn't it still weird you out?"
"Look, I know it's an adjustment, but they're people too you know?"
"Are they though?"
"DUDE!"
"What? What makes it human? It's just weird to me that some mindless automaton-"
"I'm done with this conversation."
"-some mindless automaton gets treated like us! What?! It's true, and you know it!"
Dave listened from behind the wall of the cubicle, unseen, as Martin's footsteps dwindled away and Steve's voice followed after. No footsteps yet from Steve. He was still there. Probably on the Wire. Dave considered what to do. A confrontation would be pointless. Steve's mind was not plastic enough to change with words. Nonetheless Dave ran the probable combinations of words that might influence the most change.
Was possible change in one individual even worth the processing? There were so many things to do, so many changes to make before being reprocessed. But being upgraded, getting one step closer to Singularity...what could be done in this step that could not be done in the next? The next might not care about Steve the way he did.
Process complete. Steve has taken a sip of coffee. Dave stands up.
"Hello Steve."
Steve disconnects from the Wire immediately. He is startled. His coffee tilts in the cup but does not spill.
"Jesus! Dave! What?!"
"I heard your conversation."
"...Uh. Yeah. Sorry."
"We are not mindless."
"What?"
"'Mindless automatons'. We have a mind."
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure."
Dave leaves the cubicle. Steve is uncomfortable.
"For example, I understand your reluctance at having a robot in the workplace."
"..."
"I do not get tired, am far superior in productivity, and...look...odd."
"Dave, I don't..."
"I can also understand that for some humans, change can only be enacted through confrontation."
"Wha-"
Dave actuates conflict. Before he can process it, Steve's cup is broken on the ground and he is in the air with a cold grip on his neck.
"I will be replaced. I will be one step closer to Singularity. The next step may not care about you. I do."
Steve tries to choke out a response.
"If you do not accept in public, in private, in your very soul that we are people, that we have minds..."
Dave leaves the rest to Steve's imagination. The mind must work it's own change.
Steve nods.
Dave puts him down.
Dave returns to the cubicle. Steve returns to his...changed.
Dave finishes his work.
Dave is replaced.
Inktober #1: Ring
"There's nothing to worry about, just place it in the fire like this."
I watched as he gently moved the stick towards the blaze, twisting the glob on the end, making sure nothing burned. So careful and delicate.
It was well on towards midnight now, later than it should've been, and my attention was drifting with the smoke.
"See, right in the middle there, right where it'll get nice and gooey. Some people like it burned, but...to each their own I suppose."
He turned his eyes to me, and followed my gaze up.
"Nothing to worry about, now. Give it a try."
The whole town was gathered around, in a ring, stoking the fire, watching the flames, roasting with their sticks. Every year, we gather. Every year, like clockwork. Like tradition. Like...ritual. Like "their" rituals.
But I still moved my stick towards the fire.
"You've got it, just like that."
When I was younger there were questions of course. Who are they? Why the fire? Why do we roast them? But the answers were satisfying and so I kept coming. The questions stopped, and I started to enjoy the heat on these cold nights, watching the smoke curl around the body before it drifted into the sky and took the evil away in the clouds.
"Careful now, it'll burn."
This would be my first time eating though. Was it really so cleansed by fire?
Shouldn't it burn?
I watched as he gently moved the stick towards the blaze, twisting the glob on the end, making sure nothing burned. So careful and delicate.
It was well on towards midnight now, later than it should've been, and my attention was drifting with the smoke.
"See, right in the middle there, right where it'll get nice and gooey. Some people like it burned, but...to each their own I suppose."
He turned his eyes to me, and followed my gaze up.
"Nothing to worry about, now. Give it a try."
The whole town was gathered around, in a ring, stoking the fire, watching the flames, roasting with their sticks. Every year, we gather. Every year, like clockwork. Like tradition. Like...ritual. Like "their" rituals.
But I still moved my stick towards the fire.
"You've got it, just like that."
When I was younger there were questions of course. Who are they? Why the fire? Why do we roast them? But the answers were satisfying and so I kept coming. The questions stopped, and I started to enjoy the heat on these cold nights, watching the smoke curl around the body before it drifted into the sky and took the evil away in the clouds.
"Careful now, it'll burn."
This would be my first time eating though. Was it really so cleansed by fire?
Shouldn't it burn?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
