《Mellinnium Myths》


 Artificial Interface

    Artificial Interface


    Tom flipped through his notebook. ¡°Where¡¯s that study guide?¡± He checked the clock. Fifteen minutes till the test. He was sure he had taken it back from Marty yesterday. He checked the drawers in his desk. Nothing there. He checked his backpack. Nothing. He sat back in his chair and tapped his skull. He looked at the clock again and grimaced. There was nothing to it. He would have to rely on the good graces of one of his classmates to study with him before class. He rubbed his eyes. He checked the battery level of the LIFE personality recording device Marty had given him. It was only at thirty percent but it would last the rest of the day.


    He gathered his history notes and folder together and shoved them in his backpack. He swung it over one shoulder and barreled out his door, deftly locking it behind him. He set off at a quick clip down the hall, turned the corner, and was reaching for the door when it swung open and Marty came through. ¡°Woah.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry man.¡± Marty said. ¡°Hey, what are you doing after class?¡±


    ¡°Uh, haven¡¯t thought of it yet. Hey, do you have the notes I took yesterday? I swore I got them back from you.¡±


    Marty shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t know man.¡±


    ¡°Well shucks. I gotta get to class and study. See ya!¡± Tom jogged down the hall.


    ¡°Alright! See ya then!¡±


    Tom stepped quickly down the steps to the first floor and rushed out the door. He noticed some guys about to reach the front and he snatched behind him and grabbed the door before it shut and locked. He waited only long enough to hand it to the first guy and set off again. The social studies building wasn¡¯t far from his dorm and he could make it to the top floor where his class was in four minutes.


    He entered the building and ascended the steps two at a time past the flow of students exiting class. He checked his watch. Less than 10 minutes now. He reached the top and was soon at the classroom and out of breath. He stepped to the side of the door and surveyed the room. There were only a few people in the room at the moment. One of them was his friend Tala. He smiled and took a seat next to her.


    Tala swiveled her chair towards him without taking her eyes off of the notes on her lap. ¡°Forgot your notes again? Honestly, I don¡¯t see why you have to study in the first place.¡±


    Tom gave her a wry smile. ¡°Lost em. So, uh¡­¡± Tala held up a finger.


    ¡°One minute, let me run over these myself once more.¡±


    ¡°You know, I do have to study. I¡¯m not as smart as you.¡±


    Tala ignored him.


    When she was done she looked at him. ¡°What major event happened in the 9<sup>th</sup>year of the Holy King Ataun¡¯s reign?¡±


    Tom blinked and made a face. ¡°I don¡¯t do dates well. Give me the event first.¡±


    Tala pursed her lips. ¡°Here¡¯s another one then. In what year did the Legane rebels tear down the thousand year old statue of the warrior Toal Ersad in the capital city, Ofrielt, of the Yaundsund dynasty?¡±


    Tom stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. He smiled wryly. ¡°Can I ask a friend?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s the 42<sup>nd</sup> year of Conqueror King Bussyo. Okay, now the next one.¡± They continued like this until Marty came into the room.


    ¡°Hey! What¡¯s up Marty?!¡± Tala called out.


    Marty came and sat in a seat directly behind them. ¡°How is his cram going?¡±


    ¡°Crammy.¡± She turned back to Tom. ¡°Year the region of Wadsh was reconquered.¡±


    ¡°Ooh! I got this one. The 24<sup>th</sup> year of King Bussyo.¡± He looked at Marty. ¡°She¡¯s being quite cold about it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Conqueror King Bussyo.¡±


    Tom looked at Marty as if to say, see?


    Marty shrugged and glanced at Tala before turning to his own sparse notes.


    After a few minutes, the professor walked into the lecture hall and took roll.


    ***


    After the test was over Marty, Tom, and Tala walked out and down the stairs together and into the courtyard outside the building.


    ¡°So how do you think you did?¡± Said Marty.


    Tom shrugged. ¡°Alright, I guess.¡± A thought struck him and he laughed. He took the flat LIFE device from his pocket. ¡°Sometimes I feel I¡¯d rather not have this thing recording my stupidity sometimes.¡±


    ¡°You can check how well you did.¡± Marty motioned for the device. He pushed some buttons on the screen then held it up for Tom to see.


    Tom¡¯s face fell and grimaced. ¡°Eighty-two percent? Uhg. Hey Tala, what did you get?¡±


    Tala glanced Marty¡¯s way. ¡°I don¡¯t need to look to know I got above ninety-five percent. Besides, I don¡¯t have mine on today. It ran out of batteries.¡±


    Marty smiled and handed the device back to Tom. ¡°If you want, I can buy you the program that keeps track and ranks your skills like a video game would. I hear they are planning on an update that replicates your skills into video game character avatars. I hear a lot of the big game producers are getting on board and making their games compatible. It¡¯ll just be like pitting yourself against others in all sorts of simulations!¡±


    ¡°Woah. These devices are so expensive though. I think I¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯s enough that you bought just the device. Didn¡¯t you say there is a company developing AIs that is interested in these LIFE recordings?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah. They think that they can use the recordings to create AI that are more realistic. It would allow them to use the data to create coding for everyday actions that would otherwise take programmers nearly forever to create.¡±


    Tom whistled. ¡°Man, these things are so awesome! Just think of all that can be done with these things!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like hacking a person¡¯s recording and creating a robot look-alike to pin a crime on that person.¡± Tala cut in.


    Marty looked uncomfortable. ¡°A lot of good can be done with them too.¡±


    ¡°I think they will lead to more harm than good.¡± Tala continued. ¡°The news is talking about these things becoming a booster to retirement or insurance in case a person dies. But selling a recording of your life, what is that? How would loved ones feel? What about friends Marty?! It¡¯s like selling the person¡¯s soul!¡±


    Marty had put up his hands as Tala¡¯s tirade escalated. He glanced at Tom. ¡°Hey, hey. I thought we talked about this.¡±


    ¡°We did. I changed my mind.¡±


    Tom looked from one to another. ¡°Why are you so mad?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business.¡± Tala snapped. She glared at Marty. ¡°You know, I care about my friends. That¡¯s why I went along with it so long. But you aren¡¯t letting go! You can¡¯t buy everything with money!¡± Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. ¡°I can¡¯t take it any longer Marty. I just¡­¡± She wiped her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s Friday. I¡¯m going home.¡±


    She left them walking briskly. One of her friends had been waiting nearby and she shot a burning glance in Tom and Marty¡¯s direction before running to catch up with Tala.


    Tom looked at Marty. ¡°What was that?¡± He could see Marty clenching his jaw.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Tom looked where Tala had gone. ¡°No really. What¡¯s going on? What happened?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Marty shouted. He glanced at Tom and his eyes softened. He slumped with his hands on his knees and let out a heavy sigh. ¡°I can¡¯t talk about it now. Just¡­just¡­it¡¯ll have to be later okay? I¡¯ll see you around.¡±


    ¡°Seriously? You aren¡¯t going to tell me?¡±


    Marty groaned with a pained face. ¡°Just not now okay?!¡±


    Tom shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. ¡°Well, alright¡­what did you want to do after class?¡±


    Marty shook his head and started walking away. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now.¡±


    Tom looked after him. ¡°Well, okay.¡± Then he turned and walked away as well.


    Tom walked slowly back to his dorm. When he came into his room, his roommate excitedly motioned him to watch what was on his screen. It barely registered with Tom. He soon sat down to his own computer and started slogging through the homework of all his classes. Hours passed. His roommate went out with some friends and he was left alone in the room.


    He finished his homework and he sat back, slumping in his chair. For a time he just sat like that. Then he shook his head and let out a heavy sigh, stood up, and went to bed.


    For days after Tala came back on Monday, he couldn¡¯t speak to her. She blew him off when he tried talking to her, she ignored his presence, and if he tried to sit next to her in class or at lunch she would move away. Marty was fine as always. It was as if nothing had happened with him. However, Tom noticed that Tala didn¡¯t speak to Marty much either. A week passed and it seemed like Tala¡¯s attitude spread among her friends. They began to ignore him as well.


    In Philosophy, the topic of the LIFE recorders and the ethics and repercussions of their use were brought up. Tala was one who was strongly against their use, especially in the cases of using them to create AI. Few opposed her. Others pointed out the positive use of them for background checks and as a replacement for polygraphs. This led into arguments over the breach of privacy and the role of government in the utilization of the technology. The professor was extremely uncomfortable throughout the discussion and tried desperately to switch the topic to human cloning or even current wars multiple times to no avail.


    Tom remembered Tala as one who didn¡¯t push her opinion very strongly. Tom asked Marty about Tala¡¯s vehemence against AI but he just smiled and said not to worry about it.


    Two weeks after Tala¡¯s blowup with Marty, it happened.


    She had gone home Friday afternoon after class and Tom was in the middle of slogging through homework. His phone rang and he picked it up. The caller ID was Marty. He answered. ¡°Yup?¡± Tom was answered by a sob.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Tom¡± sob ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know how to tell you this.¡± Came Marty¡¯s strained voice.


    Tom¡¯s chest tightened. He paused. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Tala¡­she¡­¡± More sobs choked Marty¡¯s voice. ¡°She¡¯s dead man.¡±


    Tom didn¡¯t know how to respond.


    ¡°She¡­got in a wreck.¡± Marty sniffled. ¡°They say it was a drunk driver.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know how to take this in so suddenly.¡± Tom could feel Marty nodding on the other end of the receiver.


    ¡°I know man, if you need anything just¡­¡± More sobbing came over the receiver. ¡°Just tell me k?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± Tom¡¯s voice was flat.


    Marty¡¯s thick sounding voice came over the receiver, ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon man.¡±


    Tom hung up. He sat there, stunned.


    ***


    A week went by that Tom barely remembered. He cried with Marty. They talked about old times together. Eventually, he visited Tala¡¯s parents. For some reason there was a barely veiled hostility that Tom could feel from Tala¡¯s parents, so he didn¡¯t stay long. Marty didn¡¯t come with him.


    After the funeral service a week later Tom and Marty hovered in the hallway outside the sanctuary as people filed out. Tom noticed that none of Tala¡¯s family came to invite himself or Marty to the dinner afterward. They simply came up to Marty, shook his hand, and mumbled something like, ¡°sorry for your loss.¡± Tom was lucky to get a head nod in his direction.


    Tom touched Marty¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Why is everyone so¡­¡± Tom waved his hand in the air as if trying to catch the tension.


    Marty shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know man.¡± His eyes vacantly watched the crowd.


    Tom frowned as Tala¡¯s sister turned away from him after giving him a crude curl of her lip. ¡°It didn¡¯t use to be like this.¡± He paused, opened his mouth, then closed it. The event a month or so earlier was in his mind.


    Marty leaned against the wall looking in the direction of Tala¡¯s family. ¡°You remember when we all got snowed in at your place over Christmas?¡±


    Tom smiled, ¡°Yeah, a little bit.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean a little bit?¡± Marty softly punched Tom in the shoulder. ¡°It was one of our favorite memories together.¡± He chuckled, ¡°What was that thing she said that we¡¯ll never let her down for?¡±


    Tom smiled and shook his head. ¡°I feel it was something hilarious.¡±


    Marty smacked him on the chest. ¡°You¡¯re the one who was always bringing it up!¡±


    Tom shook his head. ¡°I got nothing man.¡±


    Marty¡¯s smile pursed. ¡°Okay.¡± He glanced at Tom. ¡°Nothing at all?¡±


    ¡°I just have fuzzy memories of how I felt.¡±


    Marty mumbled indistinctly, ¡°Still needs work.¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    Marty shook his head and smacked Tom on the chest. ¡°Nothing dude. Hey, you remember when you took Tala to Prom senior year of high school?¡±


    Tom smiled. ¡°I try not to remember.¡±


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you got her a flower that didn¡¯t match her dress.¡±


    ¡°I think everyone in college knows about that now. She wouldn¡¯t let me live it down.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, your chances of a girlfriend are just about ruined.¡±


    Each chuckled at this and then grew silent. They remembered how Tom had still been interested in dating Tala into college.


    ¡°What, what happened between you and Tala?¡± Tom asked.


    Tom could see Marty trying to fight back the tears, but they came anyway.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t supposed to end like this.¡± Marty tried to stem his tears, wiping them away. ¡°It wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this at all.¡±


    Tears sprang to Tom¡¯s eyes as well. ¡°I know, I, I thought we¡¯d, you know, be together for, for graduation. Shoot man, she never got to graduate. She was gunning for computer programmer the crazy girl.¡± Tom sniffled. ¡°Come on man, just tell me why Tala¡¯s family is kicking you while you¡¯re down.¡±


    Marty pulled tissues from his pocket and gave Tom one. A dreadfully sour look came over his face as he tried to choke down sobs. He shook his head and kept shaking it. ¡°No man, no. I can¡¯t tell ya.¡±


    Tom blew his nose and then was silent for a moment. ¡°Must¡¯ve been pretty bad.¡±


    Marty blew his nose and chuckled. ¡°Cruel and unusual. They don¡¯t exactly know how to handle it.¡±


    Tom shoved his hands in his pockets. ¡°So¡­¡±


    Marty looked at him. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You did something to her?¡±


    Marty watched Tom for a moment but Tom didn¡¯t meet his eyes.


    ¡°Mmm, well.¡± Marty said.


    Tom stared at the ground. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me anything else. I don¡¯t know if I want to know if it¡¯s this bad anyway. Just tell me¡­were you the one who hurt her?¡±


    Marty breathed in. ¡°Yes, I suppose I did. Indirectly.¡±


    Tom shifted his weight from one foot to another. ¡°I don¡¯t see how you could have hurt her and her family so bad.¡±


    Fear entered into Marty¡¯s eyes. ¡°Look man, it¡¯s over. It¡¯s in the past. What¡¯s done is done.¡±


    Tom shook his head and met Marty¡¯s eyes. ¡°It isn¡¯t over until you¡¯ve made it right.¡± He looked in the direction Tala¡¯s family had gone. ¡°And¡­¡± Tears welled up in his eyes as he choked on his words. ¡°It isn¡¯t over just because she¡¯s¡­she¡¯s¡­¡± He wiped his eyes. ¡°You make it up man, just make it up already.¡± He turned away and walked to the doors.


    ¡°Tom?¡±


    Tom shook his head.


    ¡°Come on Tom!¡±


    ¡°You have to make it up!¡± Tom walked through the doors.


    ***


    It was a month after the funeral after most of the confusion and fallout from the disaster had swept through the campus. Tala¡¯s friends could still be seen suffering now and again and there were times they didn¡¯t show up in class. Strangely, posters advocating against AI technology were being posted all over campus. Students became openly hostile in their attitude with Tom. He was brusquely shouldered by the guys. The girls gave him withering looks and ignored him completely. He felt that certain sarcastic comments were directed his way but he couldn¡¯t tell what they meant by them.


    Tom was wearing thin. His grades had drastically drooped to all-time lows. He had stopped trying to ask peers for help after a student gave him a study guide with all wrong answers.


    Marty had been hard to communicate with since Tala¡¯s death so it came to Tom as a surprise when Marty called him. Marty came over in a cheery voice, ¡°Hey man! Been awhile since we really talked, but I have something for you to see. I¡¯ll take you back to my home this weekend and I¡¯ll show you then. Anyway, I¡¯ve got a test to cram for. See you then!¡± Marty hung up.


    Tom raised an eyebrow and texted Marty. ¡°What is it?¡±


    Marty responded, ¡°It¡¯s a secret.¡±


    Tom shook his head tiredly and returned to his homework.


    ***


    Tom had expected Marty to pick him up for the weekend but instead, Marty¡¯s chauffeur came for him. Tom gave the chauffeur a quizzical look.


    The chauffeur simply said, ¡°Marty had business to attend to at home this morning.¡± The chauffer¡¯s face was stiff. Tom knew he wouldn¡¯t get anything else out of him.


    Marty¡¯s home was only an hour away so it was 10:00 in the morning when they finally arrived. It always impressed Tom every time he went to Marty¡¯s house, but this time a gray sky swallowed the carefully manicured lawns and Victorian style mansion.


    The chauffeur dropped him off and a butler waited at the top of the steps to escort him inside. Tom entered and gave his jacket to the butler.


    ¡°You will find Marty in the dining room.¡± The butler said. Oddly, there was a sad glint in his eyes.


    Tom nodded and hesitantly headed in the direction he knew it to be. As he grew closer to the dining room¡¯s door he could hear talking interspersed with laughter. He opened the door to find Marty laughing along with Tala across from him.


    Marty turned towards him mid-smile which froze on his face once he saw Tom. ¡°Uh, you¡¯re early¡­when did Jack pick you up? Raymond let you in? I¡­uh¡­had a whole introduction thing planned out.¡± He mumbled to himself, ¡°I thought I told both of them about it.¡±


    ¡°Tom!¡± Tala rushed out of her seat towards him. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Tom held up his shaking hand.


    She stopped and shot a confused look at Marty. Her smile wavered on her face.


    Tom took as stumbling step back and held onto the closed door. He looked over at Marty. ¡°What¡­¡± His throat constricted. ¡°What is this?¡± He croaked with effort. It almost felt like he wanted to punch the Tala in front of him out of existence.


    Marty¡¯s smile fell for just a moment as he looked at his two friends. But then it came back again. ¡°Eh, don¡¯t you see? Tala¡¯s¡­not dead.¡± He said falteringly.


    Tom gritted his teeth. ¡°I saw her in a coffin. All her friends still aren¡¯t over her death. How could she be alive?¡± Tom looked at Tala¡¯s confused face. ¡°And how is it that she is glad to see me?¡±


    Marty smiled. ¡°Near-deaths are like that. They make a person realize what is truly important.¡±


    Tom advanced on Marty. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t even look my way the day¡­the day¡­¡± He took a deep breath and said quieter, ¡°The day she died.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Tala had a scared look on her face now.


    Tom didn¡¯t mind her, he was in front of Marty now and Marty still had that stupid grin on his face. ¡°Tell me, Marty, what was it that had Tala so upset at you and me?¡± He leaned in close. ¡°I feel that it is connected somehow to the way I am being treated.¡±


    Marty¡¯s teeth gritted and his smile turned into more of a grimace. ¡°It¡¯s nothing man. Now, both of you,¡± he forced a grin, ¡°let¡¯s have some ice cream. I¡¯ve got both of your favorite toppings for this occasion.¡±


    Tom didn¡¯t move.


    Tala¡¯s eyes were nervously glancing back and forth between Tom and Marty. ¡°Tom, what do you mean I died?¡±


    Marty fumbled with the ice cream scoop and opened the ice cream bucket that was in a container of ice on the table. He was trying not to meet either¡¯s eye.


    Tala was getting over her confusion now. ¡°Tom, I¡¯m not dead.¡± She looked Marty¡¯s way. ¡°If this is some sick joke you two are trying to pull off, it needs to end now! You can only take these kinds of things so far.¡±


    Marty chuckled and plopped ice cream into his bowl.


    Tom hadn¡¯t backed off. ¡°Seriously dude. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Marty kept scooping and chuckled again. ¡°You know, this was supposed to be a happy reunion.¡±


    Tom pounded his fist on the table. ¡°This isn¡¯t a game! If I¡¯ve been suffering this past month because of something you won¡¯t tell me, then you need to tell me now!¡±


    Marty put one last scoop of ice cream on his already heaping bowl and started eating greedy spoonfuls. The edges of his mouth twitched downwards.


    Tom took a chair and pulled it out, positioning it facing Marty. ¡°I¡¯ve got all day to hear an answer. I ain¡¯t playing games no more.¡± He sat in it and leaned back, crossing his arms. ¡°Just do it sometime before I die too.¡±


    Marty¡¯s face twitched at that comment. He looked at his friends over his bowl. His barely held smile faded and his whole face fell. He prodded at his ice cream and jabbed a spoonful into his mouth. A tear streaked down his cheek and he wiped it away. ¡°I just wanted my friends back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right here you know,¡± Tala said. She glared at Marty. ¡°Why is Tom saying I¡¯m dead? And why are you acting so morose?¡±


    Tom ignored her. ¡°Explain.¡±


    Marty shook his head and more tears trickled down his face. ¡°I don¡¯t want to tell you okay?¡± He said through a mouthful.


    Silence.


    Tom drummed his fingers on his arm.


    When there was no answer forthcoming, Tala sighed in exasperation and sat down across from Marty. She rested her head on her arms and looked quizzically across at Marty.


    For a while, Marty just ate and didn¡¯t talk. He sniffled and took a napkin to blow his nose. He wiped his eyes but the tears kept coming.


    Tom shifted in his seat.


    Tala¡¯s face softened as she watched Marty. She glanced at Tom. Tom still wore a stony countenance. She sat up and folded her hands together in front of her. ¡°Marty, what¡¯s wrong? We can¡¯t help you if you don¡¯t talk. We¡¯re your friends. If something very wrong has happened you need to let us know. We¡¯re here for you.¡±


    Marty let his spoon clack in his unfinished bowl of ice cream and pushed it away. He covered his face with his hands. He gave a mournful chuckle. ¡°Here for me, you say?¡± He whimpered.


    Tom¡¯s stubborn frown creased with worry. ¡°Come on. Out with it.¡± After a pause. He awkwardly scooted closer and put an arm around Marty. ¡°It¡¯s been hard for me too since Tala¡­¡± He glanced up at Tala, unable to finish the sentence.


    ¡°I what?¡± Tala¡¯s glare came back and focused on Tom. ¡°I what Tom?¡±


    Marty quietly sobbed into his hands.


    Tom¡¯s face grew pained, then he set his jaw. ¡°You died.¡±


    Muffled laughing came from behind Marty¡¯s hands. ¡°It¡¯s funny.¡± His laughing subsided into sobbing. ¡°It¡¯s not funny. It really isn¡¯t funny!¡± He whined. ¡°You¡¯re both dead.¡±


    Tom and Tala recoiled.


    ¡°Oh! So it is all just a joke! This has gone too far!¡± Tala exploded.


    Tom looked confusedly at Marty. ¡°It¡¯s not a joke. Though¡­I¡¯m not dead.¡±


    Marty groaned and nodded. ¡°Oh yes, yes you are.¡±


    Tala shook her head in exasperation. ¡°You both think I¡¯m dead? Fine! How?! Tell me how!¡±


    Tom looked at Marty. A very uncomfortable feeling was in the pit of his stomach. ¡°Yeah, tell us how.¡±


    Marty gave a deep sigh. He pulled out his LIFE recorder and slapped it on the table. He gestured at it. He covered his eyes with one hand and his chest heaved. ¡°You¡¯re experimental AI robots created using this. The recordings so far of your life.¡±


    Silence hung in the room.


    Tala¡¯s furious face slowly changed to confusion. No joke could go this far. Not even for Marty. ¡°But, I¡­you.¡± She gestured aimlessly as she sputtered.


    ¡°Tala Nodaro Code 179045 Shutdown,¡± Marty said still covering his eyes.


    Tala¡¯s form walked to a corner and folded up in the fetal position.


    ¡°Shutdown complete. Security protocols activated.¡± A computerized woman¡¯s voice said from Tala¡¯s now still form.


    Tom had stood up in wonderment at this and now he looked at Marty in disbelief. ¡°How could you do such a thing?!¡± He grabbed Marty¡¯s sleeve.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget. You¡¯re one too.¡±


    Tom let go of Marty and stepped back as if he had received a blow.


    Marty sighed and gritted his teeth. ¡°Tom Nodaro Code¡­¡±


    ¡°No! Stop!¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Marty said tiredly.


    Tom was breathing heavily now. Barely able to control his confusion and anger. ¡°Ah, ah, ah.¡± He smacked his forehead, forcing the boiling tensions and emotions in him to calm. ¡°Just¡­just¡­don¡¯t wake us again okay? Keep us dead and accept our deaths.¡±


    ¡°Why would I listen to a robot?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­you stupid¡­¡± Tom shook his head. ¡°This is all programming from our recording right? Then, then, this is basically your friend talking to you. Okay? Okay. Alright.¡± He clenched his fist and his face clenched in rage.


    Marty still had his hand over his eyes.


    Tom slammed his fist on the table.


    Marty jumped and looked at him.


    ¡°Look me in the eye, Marty.¡±


    Marty eyed him with a hint of fear in his eyes. His lips parted slightly as if preparing to shout the shutdown code.


    ¡°I am your friend. Recorded.¡± Tom¡¯s teeth gritted together but his eyes softened slightly. ¡°I care about you. You need to accept our deaths. Don¡¯t wake us up again.¡±


    Marty stared into Tom¡¯s eyes. He gulped. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Tom relaxed and shuddered. ¡°Hehehe! I¡¯m dead! All this time! I can¡¯t believe it! Hehehehe!¡± He stumbled backward as his limbs jerked spastically. He fell to the floor cackling, his body rolling side to side.


    Marty covered his eyes.


    A computerized woman¡¯s voice came over Tom¡¯s cackling. ¡°Personality computations corrupted. Only simulated results are insanity. Performing emergency shutdown.¡± Tom¡¯s form curled up in the fetal position. A holographic screen was projected above him reading,


    REALISTIC ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE ROBOT


    DO NOT DISTURB


    TECHNICIANS ARE ON THEIR WAY RIGHT NOW


    Marty slumped forward in his seat and covered his face with both his hands. He wept until he had no more tears with his two dead friends before him. Then he took up his LIFE recorder and threw it with all his might into the wall.

 Homeless Spire

    In all honesty, he didn¡¯t know what he was getting himself into. He felt he was chasing after a dream, a hope of his people. He could see the unsalvageable wreckage of his ancient nation looming before him. To Jar, it looked more like an unsalable tower half-basked in the rising sun.


    It stood as tall as a mountain but was dwarfed by the mountains around it. Buildings of rubble crowned its top. Buildings were shorn in two at the cliff edges.


    The farmers didn¡¯t look up as he passed. Those who did stared in awe at his massive stature. A full two heads taller than any of them.


    As he neared the base of the spire of rock, brush became thicker and in many places were piles of overgrown, half-buried rubble covered in moss. At one point Jar had to climb over the parts of a fallen pillar as wide as he was tall. As he picked his way through the wreckage he ran across small bands of men, women and children in clothing not much more than sacks at times and not better than rags at others. They huddled together in corners and snatched at rats if they came too close. He actually saw a man catch one and wring its neck before he started to eat it, stretching the rat¡¯s skin with his teeth.


    The place reeked so much that Jar felt the stench was a physical barrier at times. Those who cared to look up at him widened their eyes with wonder and amazement at such a large man. Or perhaps it was because his clothing made him stick out. Then again, the fact he had clothing¡­


    He picked his way among pools of grime and the tangles of twisted trees. His foot slipped and was immediately drowned in mossy muck.


    This was a fool¡¯s errand. His rightful place was to be the leader of his people, the Musai, and lead a rebellion against their enslavers.


    A carving on the stones caught his eye. It was carefully carved and had no recognizable shape to it. The lines were bold with strong curves, but unafraid to bare sharp and blunt edges. He laid his hand on the stone and looked at the earthen-covered mounds the stone was upon.


    He wanted to see it. The ruins of the birthplace of the Musai. According to legend, this giant rock pillar was the grave of the last Musai King and buried with him, the royal door-hammer. The hammer was the equivalent of a scepter in other kingdoms.


    Jar thought back to his last encounter with his younger brother, Ovun. Ovun had taken him to the farthest part of the gardens away from the Ara-Erian lord¡¯s palace whom Jar was under servitude to. They could see all around them across a wide lawn before bushes, trees and flowers broke up the landscape. They faced each other, only offset so they could watch the other¡¯s back.


    Ovun had turned to him, bending down to Jar¡¯s height. Jar was short for a Musai, about two heads shorter than many of them. That stature marked him as royal blood, a deeply kept secret by the Musai people. To keep it that way they had changed how they treated short Musai and copied the Ara-Erians. Short Musai were ridiculed and bullied. Jar feared the ruse was becoming more real and less of a cover-up. It was too easy to let one¡¯s frustration out and call it a way to keep the secret.


    Ovun said to him in a whisper, ¡°Our people are restless. We have been slave to the Ara-Erians far too long. Some have accepted it, spurring anger and strife amongst our own people. Others threaten rebellion. If they do rebel, Ara-Era will pay more attention to our cause and may once again seek to destroy any remnant of our royal blood.¡± Ovun put a hand on Jar¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Your humble stature makes it obvious to our people you are our true King. This excites them all the more. However, we lack the power to overcome our masters. Most have lost heart and accepted our fate. You must rekindle our lost nation and find the symbol of our people in the ruins of the old country. Else our people be lost forever.¡±


    Jar shook off his thoughts and looked up again at the spire of brown and gray rock. He could never return his people to their former glory.


    Jar reached the bottom of the pillar and stood amongst a mess of broken shaped stones sunk into dirt. It was drier here nearer the spire. For a moment he considered attempting to climb the spire. But no, the legends said this was a burial place. The king would be beneath the spire. Yet, how far down did the spire go?


    He rested for a little bit before setting himself to the task of digging. His light was fading fast. The ground around the pillar was filled with rubble and gravel. The place Jar had chosen to dig at was the place with the fewest stones. Despite this, he ran across gravely earth and chunks of rock.


    The shovel he had carried with him struck something hard. He cleared the dirt away and uncovered a surface of stone in much the same design he had seen before. He believed it was part of a capstone to a pillar. He dug around it and when it had been mostly uncovered he found it to be about his size.


    He sat back and rested. He looked at the stones around him, how they were fashioned, their size and how they had broken. He could see a continuity around him, like he could tell there was a ghostly hint of what the original structures looked like. However, the picture he tried to make out of the rubble escaped him.


    Jar stood and looked around himself. There was no one watching from what he could see. He found two handholds on the capstone and grunted, lifting. The stone came up, he staggered, then heaved the stone to the side. It landed with a loud crack of stone on stone. He huffed then began clearing away the gravel again.


    As he set himself to his work he wondered at himself. To save his people he had always imagined himself donning the lost armor of the ancients and wielding the legendary weapons of old. He would always lead a successful rebellion against Ara-Era and stand above them brilliant, making them bow before him.


    He wiped his brow. He was standing in a hole of dirt and shattered stone doing the labor of slaves. His clothes and hands were already collecting dust and smears of dirt. Not to mention how his pants and boots were caked in mud.


    He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. When he looked up he noticed there were a few eyes watching him that shrunk away when he noticed them. He continued his work.


    Eventually, he hit dirt and the going became easier. He dug close to the pillar so he could see when he would reach the bottom of it. If there was a bottom to it. His strokes with the shovel were quick and efficient and he had cleared a narrow, steep way down in a short time.


    ¡°The Musai were originally from the dirt, it only makes sense we understand it better. It even gives way before us easier than with others.¡± He mumbled. He dug more furiously, the corners of his mouth in a downturn. Of all the things his brother had asked him to do, this was the most obscure and unreasonable. Jar would have assailed the Great Cliffs if his brother had asked him, but dig beneath a mountain for a legend? He shook his head and kept digging.


    He dug so deep that the light of the sun didn¡¯t help him see and he had to feel how he was digging. Periodically, he had to lengthen the steep steps down into the hole. Every time he came back up to do this he noticed that more of the homeless had gathered around to watch.


    The day passed by as he enlarged the hole and dug deeper, enlarged the hole and dug deeper. Soon, the sun was approaching the tops of the western mountains in an early evening. The sun became tinged with red as it dipped, the stunted, twisted forms of the trees casting deep crooked shadows over the rubble.


    He looked up out of the deep hole. The sun¡¯s red light and the shadow of the mountains was traveling up the Homeless Spire. It would be night soon. Homeless Spire, the name was for more than just the people watching him work. Jar¡¯s own people had no home of their own. How strange thatthe ruins of the Musai¡¯s halls would become home for the homeless.


    He scooped another shovel of dirt and the dirt beneath his feet cracked and fractured as it weakened. He threw out his arms in reflex to catch himself. He paused and carefully stepped back.


    What did this mean? Was there an open space below? How far? Three feet? Ten? Fifty? But there was an open space and something was beneath him. He brushed his hands against his knees and shook his head. There was a lot of rubble. It wouldn¡¯t surprise him if there was more beneath the dirt. There was a chance the rubble had created a pocket of air and the dirt was only settling into it.


    He lengthened the steps up the hole behind him. While he did this he noticed that quite a few of the homeless people were watching him. They slumped on rocks and laid around like sleepy drunks, watching him with unwavering, lifeless eyes. Jar couldn¡¯t resist a shudder.


    Once he had finished lengthening the steps he descended to the end of his hole. Making sure his footing was good he raised one foot and slammed it down upon the cracked earth. He foot sank into the soil as it crumbled under the blow and began to sink as it gave out beneath him. He sank one hand into the dirt wall of the hole and with the other braced himself against the rock face of the pillar in a moment of panic. The dirt gave way beneath him and disappeared into a black hole under the lip of the rock pillar.


    He scrambled back and bracing himself on the walls with his feet he kicked more dirt down the hole. He went back up the slope of his hole and lengthened the slope once again, digging further down and widening the hole at the bottom. Eventually, the dark hole at the bottom was large enough for him to fit through. It seemed the open space was below a lip of the Homeless Spire and he could tell the dirt was piling up. The space wasn¡¯t too deep.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He paused in his work then climbed back up the steps and looked around him at the people watching. ¡°Does anyone have a candle?¡±


    There was silence for a moment and then someone spoke up. ¡°We don¡¯t have much of anything you black-hearted pig¡¯s wallow.¡±


    Well, he hadn¡¯t really expected much of anything.


    He sat on a rock and looked at the sky. He wouldn¡¯t have light for much longer. One by one the people slunk away as they saw there wasn¡¯t a show anymore. Then, one returned with a few short stubs of candles in his hands and flint and tinder. The man¡¯s smell was horrible and he was filthy, but Jar took the offering, thanking the man. He went back down into the hole and put all but one of the candle stubs in his pocket. He lit it with the flint and tinder with some difficulty and descended through the hole.


    He slid down the pile of dirt into a chamber. The light of the candle didn¡¯t carry far but he was able to make out a few glimmerings here and there. He took a few more steps and his sandaled feet slapped on stone, echoing throughout the chamber. He bent over with the light. What he was stepping on was a dusty mosaic. He wiped a hand across it and it revealed vibrantly colored stones of blue and green.


    He gasped and instantly coughed on the dry dusty air. What was this? The remnants of a ruin? How was it not crushed into powder by the spire? Maybe, maybe the legends were true. He breathed deeply, as if to suck the hope of the idea into himself. He coughed on the air again. He removed the top half of his tunic and removed his undershirt, using it to wrap over his nose and mouth, then put his tunic back on.


    He wandered a little more and came across gold and silver coins spilling from chests. They were extremely dusty but he picked up handfuls of the gold ones as much as his tunic pockets could hold up. He had to take some out when the weight of them made his trousers fall.


    He paused and a needle of fear pierced through him as the darkness surrounding him seemed to close in and everything went dark. His candle had gone out. With difficulty, he was able to relight another one. When he had lit it his heart was still beating fast. He had to search the chamber before his light went out. He let his doubts fall to the side. He knew there would be no coming back after getting candles in the village. The wealth, everything would be gone when he came back.


    He walked a little further and something caught his eye upon the ground. The new candle was little more than a pool of wax in his hand now. Any race but a Musai would have dropped it by now from the heat. He fished another candle stub from his pocket and lit it up. What he had noticed on the ground was a crack in the mosaic.


    He followed it and it widened and more cracks showed up around it. They all appeared to be coming from one direction. He followed for a few more steps and saw by the candlelight a step rent by wide cracks. Jar stepped up and as he did so the light caught the dim figure of a crouched-over man. Jar flinched back but when it didn¡¯t move he then cautiously stepped closer. It was a statue of a man, larger in stature than Jar and it was wearing ornate robes. The statue was at the top of the steps.


    The figure of the man was crouched on one knee where the cracks originated from. He was doubled over with his chest against his other knee. His back and hands were against the ceiling of the chamber as if it were crushing him and he wore the expression of great pain and exertion. His mouth gaped open in a mighty silent scream. The muscles of his body seemed to almost burst from the delicate carvings of his robes.


    Jar¡¯s mouth gaped open. He stepped around the statue and his light illuminated something behind the man. It was what looked like a shattered stone throne. Gold leaf glinted in the candlelight. The statue was positioned as if the man had just come out of the throne to catch the stone pillar above him. Something else caught his eye at the edge of the candlelight at the foot of what he believed to be the throne¡¯s diadem. He stepped closer to it. It was a crown. Jar¡¯s heart thumped against his chest. The grave of the last King, this was it?


    He reached for the crown. It was a strange dull hue with gems inset into it. It¡¯s design was simple. It was fashioned as a large ring. He touched it and it felt like it was made of stone, cool to the touch. He wiped off the dust but the dull hue remained. It was made from a stone that was unfamiliar to him. He attempted to pick it up but it didn¡¯t budge. He tried again, using more force. Still nothing. He set the candle that was almost burnt out to one side, brushing the wax off on his trousers. He braced himself over it and took ahold of the crown with both hands. He lifted up with his arms and legs with his entire might, letting out a yell. The mosaic stones let out small cracking noises beneath his feet and the crown lifted, one inch.


    He let it go as his muscles fatigued and it slammed back to the floor letting out a loud boom that echoed throughout the room. The stone beneath the crown was rent and cracks spread out from the impact. Jar breathed heavily as he lit another candle.


    Something spoke to him from the legends he had been told and he recited it out loud. ¡°Can a lost kingdom be reclaimed? Can it be remade? Strong is the King who creates a nation, strong is a King who keeps a nation, strong is a King who saves a nation, how much stronger is a King who pulls a nation from its own ashes? No, the nation that survives its burning is an act of god, not of a King.¡± Jar shook his head. This crown was the crown of a nation in ashes. He couldn¡¯t bear its weight, he couldn¡¯t save the nation in ashes. What kind of man could lift such a weight?


    Jar tiredly walked back over to the statue and gazed at the tortured face. It bespoke fear, resolve and pain.


    ¡°The whole country fell, but the King held it up with bare strength. His family and his people escaped the country¡¯s fall, but the King gave his life, turning to stone as his country¡¯s last foundation.¡± Jar recited. It was what little he remembered of the children¡¯s story his mother had told him.


    Jar trotted back to the edge of the chamber where the edge of the rock pillar met the dirt. He followed it all the way around but could not find a place where the rock pillar met the stone floor. Jar returned to the diadem. This was the only place where the ceiling met the floor. The entire rock pillar, as tall as a mountain and as large as the sprawling grounds of a palace, was held up by this one stone figure. Jar almost felt a physical weight on him from the massiveness above him.


    He remembered what he had been searching for in the first place. The royal hammer. The symbol, the true symbol of his rightful place as lead of the Musai and symbol of the power he bore with him. He lit his next to last candle and made a quick sweep of the area again but there was nothing. He quickly shifted the dirt along the edges at spots that looked promising but turned up nothing.


    Quickly, before his candle petered out, he quickly searched the piles of gold coins. Still, he found nothing.


    He gritted his teeth. ¡°A fool¡¯s errand!¡± He seethed. ¡°I¡¯ve humbled myself enough for your whims brother!¡±


    He turned to go but something caught his eye. He hadn¡¯t noticed it before but there was a pile of dirt on the diadem next to the throne. When he had walked around there hadn¡¯t been any such piles of dirt except at the edges.


    He ran his fingers through it and his fingers caught at a cloth beneath a layer of dust. He paused, trying to stifle the hoped welling up inside of him, then pulled the cloth away, rising dust and revealed a long staff with a large hammer head on one end as large as an anvil. A door-hammer. An ancient weapon devised by the Musai to crush the gates of castles. This one was ornately glyphed with names upon it.


    He reached out his hand as if to touch it but didn¡¯t. He remembered how the crown would not be lifted by him. He almost pulled his hand away but it was right there in front of him, the royal hammer, he was sure of it. The crown wouldn¡¯t lift but an inch yet this hammer was far larger. He took in deep breaths, fear of what might happen seemed to squeeze his chest. How could he return to save his people without the Musai¡¯s royal scepter? The very fact he had found it but had been unworthy to lift it would crush his people in despair. Instead of saving his people, he would doom them. If he failed here, he wouldn¡¯t be able to return. It would be easier to say he hadn¡¯t found it at all.


    The candle flickered, then went out.


    Jar suddenly felt like he would lose the hammer in the darkness forever and reached for it and took ahold of it. The glyphs gently started glowing in the darkness and as he watched, another name was slowly etched under the list of the others. Jar Ramzar, his name was added beneath the name of the mythic last king of the lost kingdom of the Musai, Klaric Ramzar.


    Jar breathed in deeply, then coughed from the dust. Tears started flowing from his eyes. What he was holding was the mythic standard of the nearly forgotten royal house of the Musai. His hand clutching the long handle of the hammer shook. Relief washed over him and he heaved a few more breaths, steeling himself. He had to be strong.


    Jar knew the weight of the hammer¡¯s head was much greater than that of the crown. It was an ability of the Musai to have much strength in comparison to their size, but they also had an art in making their armor and weapons easier to carry. Would he be able to lift it? Jar took a few more breaths, trying to calm himself, then lifted. The hammer flew up as he used too much force. He stopped it and it tapped the spire¡¯s underside making a quiver pass through the stone. Jar flinched, as if he might cause the stone to fall upon him.


    He felt it in his hands. It was heavy, but very easy to swing and hold. Its handle was long enough to bring the head of the hammer to his chest if stood upright. He set the hammer to the side and lit his last candle. He looked at the hammer more closely. It¡¯s design was simple. The haft was made from wood. The head of the hammer was square with a broad head on one side with shallow points. The other side narrowed like a wedge into one large point. It was unadorned except for the Musai glyphs that reflected the candlelight. He touched the rows of names, he felt the sharp edges of their etchings and lastly, he touched his own name beneath the rest. He flipped the hammer and on the other side he found the glyphs organized so his name was above the others. ¡°Above and below his forefathers, a King will be,¡± he quoted, ¡°Above as he is living with his forefathers dead, but they give his foundation, below because he bears the weight of his forefather¡¯s people, their failures and their triumphs.¡±


    He closed his eyes and let himself be absorbed in the feeling of great responsibility that washed over him. The hopes of his people were with him. The hopes of all the generations past, those present and those to whom he would hand the scepter over to one day.


    He hefted the hammer upon his shoulder and passed by the stone form of his ancestor. He took another long look at it, committing the sight to memory, then found his way back out. He found a larger crowd had gathered around his hole and some glanced up as he came back out. It was dark out now.


    He looked at the decrepit people in front of him. He could attempt to come back for the rest of the treasure, but he knew it would only cause a political scene as different parties attempted to claim it for themselves. He was far from his own land and on his own. The treasure was useless to him. How much he wished he could use it to fund the freeing of his people. He made a decision.


    With candlelight in one palm casting wavering light on his tall form and the mighty hammer in the other hand he addressed those there. ¡°I, rightful owner of what lies beneath, give up that right to any who may claim it for themselves.¡± With that, he walked away. He saw the man who had given him the candles and he reached into his pocket, setting the scepter of his people aside. He pulled out a handful of gold and silver coins and gave them to the man. ¡°This is the very least of your share, friend. You gave most everything you had when you had nothing to help me.¡±


    The man¡¯s jaw grew slack with astonishment.


    Jar picked up the door-hammer and walked through the shattered ruins he had just inherited as he heard the exclamations of surprise behind him.

 A Time to End

    A Time to End


    Peter completed teleporting and settled on his feet. Darn that Keijay. He thought. Wasting my precious time with his philosophical ideals. I¡¯ve already wasted a week of my vacation. ¡°Who cares if I use the word ¡®time¡¯ interchangeably with ¡®change¡¯?¡± He said out loud.


    He checked the time. It appeared in his vision at the same moment the information was sent to his brain. It was 8:00 in the morning, November 8<sup>th</sup>, the year 2589 R.C., the age of Heaven¡¯s Rule. Currently, local time was in perfect sync.


    Everyone else had already been on vacation for a week. He¡¯d had to stay an extra week to polish up on details. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets.


    Seven days from now the time machine would revert to this moment. Seven days from now Peter would help¡­he might¡­he might put an end to the time machine forever. This vacation might be the last he would use the machine¡¯s powers, and perhaps the last he would see his family.


    Peter looked around himself. He was on a dirt road at the top of a gently sloped hill. The sun was low in the east, casting long, deep shadows across the land. In those shadows the dew looked like sky blue snow on the grass, melting to glowing sun drops where the light touched. Fog clung to the winding stream flowing from the hill to his left and down into the shallow valley. The fog glowed where a ray of sun touched. In the shadow, the fog still slumbered in twilight.


    This is why he always picked this spot to teleport to before walking the two miles to his parent¡¯s home. He could see the land all around and their house on the other side of the valley.


    He began to walk the shallow decent into the valley. His tennis shoes made a soft crunching sound as he walked.


    Peter breathed in deeply, and his chest swelled against his T-shirt. That was the smell of night rain upon dirt and fallen leaves. He could still feel the cool humidity against his skin. A chill breeze began to pick up with the coming of the morning, rustling drying green leaves. The forest¡¯s bright yellows, oranges and reds were doused blue in the shadows but burned brightly in the sun.


    Peter smiled. His walking was easy going downhill. At one point, the path curved to one side to avoid a bulge in the stream. Peter kept walking through the grass and along the bank of the stream. His jeans became wet with the dew and a few chill drops from the trees above landed in his short hair. He shivered.


    A week¡¯s vacation was barely enough time to cool his nerves. After working through the ranks from a Special Field Agent to a Senior Narrative Engineer for millennia, a week felt like a day. He shook his head. Don¡¯t think about work. You¡¯re on vacation. Just don¡¯t think about it.


    The chirping of birds caught his attention and he stopped, watching them flit about the trees. He continued forward and stepped on a stick, making a loud crack.


    The red and white coat of a fox caught his eye further down the hill. It bounded casually between the trees and through the wisps of fog. It stopped around the edge of a bush and eyed him for a moment. Then it sprang away, fading into the fog. Peter¡¯s last sight of it was when it jumped through a ray of sunlight, its coat flashing for a moment before it was gone.


    Peter looked after it, wondering if it would show itself again, but it didn¡¯t. He looked around for other stirring wildlife, but he couldn¡¯t see any.


    Peter brought up the interface for the time machine into his vision. He couldn¡¯t feel the full body scan to confirm his identity, but he knew it happened. Like anyone else at his level of work, he had access to localized time reversion. In this instance, he was pre-cleared to revert everything within the fence around his parent¡¯s property back to the moment when he first completed teleporting.


    A 3-D landscape of the property projected itself into his vision. He zoomed onto his location with a thought and looked about himself from a minute ago. With a thought, he turned on the lifeform filter for animals larger than a rat. He didn¡¯t need the visual. The knowledge flowed through his brain as easily as walking.


    ¡°Ah, found you.¡± He whispered. The fox had been watching him before he had stepped on the stick. He checked on the fox¡¯s current location. It was nearing the property line¡¯s fence.


    It¡¯ll get away if I¡¯m not quick about it. Peter quickly activated the time machine to revert to one minute ago. The feeling was like teleportation, only physically disorienting since his body ended up in a different position. In his years as a field agent, he¡¯d gotten used to it. He stopped all motion for a split second, orienting himself. His foot was just about to step on the stick. He lengthened his stride and stepped over it. Carefully, he approached the fox¡¯s position.


    Even knowing where it was, Peter couldn¡¯t see it with normal light. He would be able to see it in the infrared spectrum, but its appearance would be ugly.


    He crept forward carefully, watching where he stepped. The rain had softened the leaves, making his approach much quieter. He got within 20 feet of the bushes it was hiding in before the fox bounded away with a shot, running at full tilt. It jumped into the creek bed and out of sight. Peter heard a few splashes before there was silence again. The fox didn¡¯t show back up.


    Peter had gotten a closer look, but it felt like there was something missing from his first sighting. Why was my first experience more¡­satisfying? Peter thought. No, that wasn¡¯t the word. It hadn¡¯t been satisfying at all.


    He stood out of his crouch and stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked back at the way the fox had run, then along the streambed. Fog heavily covered parts of it. There weren¡¯t many places he could see clearly. He considered trying again but a sudden distaste for the idea came over him and he started walking again.


    While he could change time at a whim within the property, time continued forward everywhere else. Local time now read a minute behind the master control time. By impulse, he checked the location of the fox. It was out of the streambed now and trotting further into the valley out of his direct sight.


    His mind easily turned to the butterfly effect process, tracking the possibilities of the divergence he¡¯d created. First, analyze origin point. The fox actually jumps over the property line. Peter pulled up the movements and mental intentions of animals in that area before the reversion. It¡¯ll scare this mouse, whose home is here, it¡¯ll run to that. The fox will likely start hunting again after running a half-mile along its territory. Death of a rodent likely. Effect on ecosystem, minimal. Possible effects on major events, incomprehensible. Beyond that the prediction accuracy dropped significantly.


    Second, analyze impact of divergence. Fox will not disrupt movements of smaller animals by its passing. A rodent may not die as soon. Effect on ecosystem, minimal. Possible effects on major events, incomprehensible. He tracked the fox¡¯s new movements and the movements of animals around it, as well as any damage to vegetation done. New effect on ecosystem, minimal. Possible effects on major events, incomprehensible.


    Third, analyze possible outcomes. Likelihood of fox to attempt stealing from henhouse in the coming day increased, however, inevitable in the lifetime of the fox. Fox kills rodent in the valley instead of outside of property line, effect minimal. Likelihood of fox to run into native pred¡­


    Peter smacked his forehead. ¡°Darn it.¡± Don¡¯t think about work. Don¡¯t think about it. The analyzing had only taken fractions of a second, much of the processing being off-loaded to the time-machine¡¯s main frame. He turned his attention to the scenery around him instead, trying his best to enjoy it. He walked another four minutes and fifteen seconds, hoping his mind would clear.


    The muffled crack of a rifle jolted Peter. ¡°Dag-nab-it.¡± He said under his breath. ¡°Still using that novelty hunting-rifle.¡± The report had come from in front and to the left of him on the hillside. And I¡¯m still cursing like him. He thought.


    His mind turned to what his father had shot at. The enhanced vision the time machine granted him swept towards the source of the gunshot. Peter guessed his father had shot successfully since he didn¡¯t hear the frustrated string of shots that usually followed when his father missed.


    His father was further up the hill, masked in the mists of a tendril of fog as he walked down towards his trophy. At the bottom of the hill was a clearing where the fog was thin and a ray of sun shone in, already burning it away. In that clearing, lying among the flowers was a fox, the same fox from before.


    It didn¡¯t surprise Peter. He¡¯d seen many people die from his decisions, planets reduced to dust, lives shattered beyond their own means to repair them. However, Peter wielded the very power that could restore everything.


    He wanted to bring the fox back to life. He could step on that stick again and let it run away across the fence. However, he couldn¡¯t go forward in time. He couldn¡¯t see if the fox¡¯s death by his father could be avoided forever. He only had the power to return to any moment within what the machine had recorded. He¡¯d seen events change to his whims, only to have the very outcome he had attempted to avoid come about years later.


    By over-practiced rote, he changed time back to right before he stepped on the stick. He hesitated. His body felt warmer. His feet were less tired. By hesitating he knew he was changing something, maybe something that could only be traced back to this moment after hundreds of years had passed. He stepped on the stick and watched the fox spring from his cover and bound away.


    Does it even matter if I turn back time? He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling there was a force even greater than the time machine working its will on the universe. The secret resistance within the ranks of his nation thought so. Too many attempts to prevent the cataclysm from happening had been thwarted by unlooked-for means, blindsiding the analysts and himself. So, they decided the power of the time machine was not for men. Seven days from now would see the culmination of their efforts to return time to the original time-line. Without Peter, their plans would fail. If he was against them, there would be nothing they could do to stop him. If he was for them, their plans would succeed.


    He walked onward on the same path he had taken before and at the same pace.


    When the time machine had been created, it had recorded history for several hundred years. The philosophy at its creation had been, ¡°To change the past, one must first know the future,¡± a quote by Bhen Munoc, the time machine¡¯s creator. This span of recorded time, untouched by the time-machine, was named the Origin. The resistance wanted to return to the moment right before the first change by man occurred.


    Was the Origin untouched by the time-machine? Peter wondered. Or is it the present? Meant to be, despite men¡¯s efforts? Men have always been changing worlds and the universe. Is the time machine any different from a bomb or terraforming? Was the original time-line simply a figment of the imagination? Even by returning to the Origin, the knowledge of all the past millennia would be retained by individuals such as himself. Wouldn¡¯t that be an alteration of the Origin? Is there even a right answer? A truth? His thoughts turned to the millennia-old debates over global warming that culminated in the Terra Directives. Men argued men¡¯s miniscule actions greatly unbalanced the fragile laws of nature. Is the same thing happening to the universe? He thought. The time machine has a massive range but doesn¡¯t cover the whole universe. Technically, we have irreplaceably put the Known Universe out of sync with the rest. What worlds or stars might we have split in two?


    He passed by the spot he had heard the gunshot at. He heard nothing but the sound of the stream in the distance, the chirping of birds and the rustle of the breeze through the leaves. He continued walking, he was losing precious time with his family. The master control time put him at almost an hour past when he had first arrived.


    Peter had joined the resistance due to his long-simmering disgust he had formed for repeating and living out time. It had felt morally wrong to revert the changes of the universe. But now, what was time or change? Time was the measurement tool of change, as a ruler was the measurement tool for distance. That was the logical answer. Time was nothing more than a ruler for change. It was not a dimension, it was not some unexplainable energy or mass. It was simply change. The rate of the workings of physics, the timings of the movement and discovery of information, and the rate of the degradation of energy.


    Some of Peter¡¯s colleagues disillusioned themselves by believing they had full control over time. The very control room they worked in defeated their belief. Everything in the known universe would change outside that control room, but the control room, by necessity remained untouched. Normal time, the same that flowed from the beginning of time, was in that room and outside the unfathomable reach of the time machine.


    No, change is not a flow, it is a rate. He thought.


    Peter shook his head. He was beginning to think like his fellow analyst, Keijay. Keijay was lately most fascinated with their enemy¡¯s own time travel technology. The technology of Nebiezar was far inferior to the technology of Kasdeon, Peter¡¯s nation. The method was simple explosions that reverted the time of everything within their blast, however, they did not need to record like the time machine did. Not to mention, their technology had stopped the recording of the Origin.


    The Origin had initially been planned to be a millennia long stretch of history to be picked apart and analyzed to create the ultimate utopia. Dissidents would be culled, murders stopped and entire wars averted. That never happened.


    In a preparation for their grand conquest, Kasdeon closed in on all sides upon Nebiezar¡¯s home world. Nebiezar¡¯s retaliation was one of desperation and to spite of Kasdeon¡¯s plans. Nebiezar set off the Cataclysm Bomb. A bomb that was set to erase the entirety of history back to when men still walked upon only one planet. Total destruction, annihilation, near-extinction. It boggled Peter¡¯s mind to think how fragile humanity would be with only a few billion souls living on a single planet.


    Peter breathed in deeply, over and over again until he started to get light-headed. He couldn¡¯t get enough of the smell of night rain mixed with the mustiness of fall. To allow the Cataclysm Bomb to go off would kill all life. But was it worse to play god over them all?


    He began the shallow ascent up the road to his home. His hand clasped and unclasped as he breathed in and out. Think of something else.


    Mom said Harold would still be here. He¡¯ll likely want to go out and hunt with me. He thought. He caught a whiff of breakfast cooking when the breeze suddenly changed direction. His mouth watered. Eggs, bacon, toast¡­is that pancakes? He licked his lips.


    He lost sight of his house as he walked through a grove of trees. It appeared again here and there through the trees as he walked along the path. It came into full view as he rounded the last bend in the path.


    The white two-story house basked in the glow of the morning sun. The chatter of chickens reached him along with the occasional neigh of a horse. Wumpy gave out threatening warf! from the porch and streaked towards him.


    ¡°Wump! Its me boy!¡±


    Wumpy¡¯s sprint slowed into excited bounding and he barked over and over. Right before he came into Peter¡¯s reaching distance he stopped and his barking turned into whines as he excitedly wagged his tail and circled Peter.


    ¡°Pete!¡± Peter¡¯s brother came out of the front door rubbing his hands with a cloth. ¡°On time as always! Come on in! Mom won¡¯t let us start until you sit down!¡±


    Peter waved. ¡°I will once Wump¡¯s calmed down!¡± He heard the sound of wood chairs being pushed back and his two sisters burst out of the door.


    ¡°Pete! Welcome back! Since you¡¯re out there, go find Dad too!¡±


    Peter bent down as Wump¡¯s excitement waned enough for him to come closer. Peter scratched him behind the ears and under the chin where he liked it most.


    ¡°Come back inside or we¡¯ll never eat!¡± Came a voice from inside the house.


    Peter smiled. He knew his mother would say that.


    ¡°Go find Dad will you?¡± Harold yelled and threw his rag on the house¡¯s porch railing.


    ¡°I heard him shooting on Maple Hill!¡± Peter yelled back. ¡°He¡¯ll be here soon!¡± Well, he did in another time line. Eh, technicalities, he¡¯s on Maple Hill one way or another.


    Harold waved and went inside. The screen slammed with a clack behind him.


    ¡°So that¡¯s what¡¯s got Wump¡¯s attention,¡± said a voice behind Peter.


    Peter turned. It was his father with a gun over one shoulder. His face was set in grim lines.


    ¡°You ever going to catch that fox?¡±


    ¡°Hmph, maybe never, but it gets me outside. Don¡¯t know what¡¯d I¡¯d do if it went and killed itself.¡±


    Perhaps it was a good thing I let the fox live, Peter thought.


    ¡°Been trying to get the lil varmit for five years. It¡¯s like magic the way he escapes me. I¡¯ve got a guy who still does taxidermy by hand and doesn¡¯t charge an arm and a leg. He says he¡¯ll stuff the critter for free if I can ever kill it for him.¡±


    Wump quickly became distracted by something in the forest and he rushed off with his nose to the ground. Peter had seen the dog die because of its stupidity too many times. Once, Wump had drowned when Peter had been swimming far out in a lake with Harold. Watching what had happened on the time machine¡¯s recording showed Wump pacing back and forth in worry along the shoreline before jumping in after them.


    Peter walked with his father to the house. ¡°How many chickens did it get?¡± he asked. He already knew the answer.


    ¡°Twenty-three, and he choses em like a champ. I tell you, every time a chicken wins a prize, he¡¯ll get it not more than three months later. Damn varmit.¡±


    Peter washed up with his father and then sat down to the table and waited for him to put his gun away. His mom allowed herself to get up and greet him, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him before sitting back down again.


    Once his father sat down everyone bowed their head in thanks before digging into the meal.


    ¡°You work for the military, right?¡± Harold asked. ¡°Teri could you pass the syrup? What¡¯s been going on lately?¡±


    Peter shrugged and took a spoonful of eggs. ¡°Don¡¯t know what I can talk about.¡± Harold had been asking him this question for hundreds of years. Well, for him only a few decades, Peter thought. He¡¯d even tried to see what Harold¡¯s reaction was before reverting time. Because he had revealed classified information to a civilian he¡¯d ended up with a stern warning and had to compile a report on the event. A report that he had disliked giving to his higher-ups.


    ¡°Come on, anything on those no-for-goodians? They¡¯ll get us if we don¡¯t watch it.¡±


    That¡¯s one future I¡¯m sure of, Peter thought, we¡¯ve never been able to stop them from detonating the bomb.


    ¡°Why are they against a Utopia?¡± Terisha asked. ¡°We¡¯re already half-way there.¡± She delicately skewered a piece of pancake and placed it into a beautifully modeled mouth. A mouth that matched the rest of her perfectly designed body.


    Peter¡¯s mother, Wanda, looked at Terisha over her glasses but returned her eyes to her plate. Her wrinkled face and graying hair told one enough of her stance on utopian ideals.


    Peter waited for her to blow up, but remembered he was in a point of time after a lot of that drama had ended. Terisha changing the body Wanda had worked so hard to give birth to naturally hadn¡¯t gone over well.


    Peter¡¯s father glanced up from his plate at Terisha, then at Wanda. He cleared his throat. ¡°No talking politics at the table.¡± He cleared his throat again. ¡°I nearly shot that fox today. Got away over the fence.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re never going to give up on that animal, are you?¡± Harold said, ¡°I¡¯ve told you to just get one of those sentry drones to look after the chicken coop. You have the money for it.¡±


    ¡°A bullet¡¯s cheaper. Besides, we¡¯re going hunting for it today.¡± Peter¡¯s father smiled through his chewing. ¡°You don¡¯t want to ruin the reason for our hunting do you?¡±


    From there the talk turned to hunting and then how everyone¡¯s families were doing.


    Peter didn¡¯t have much to say with that last part.


    ¡°Petey, when are you going to get yourself a wife?¡± Wanda asked.


    When we stop the cataclysm bomb. ¡°When the right one comes along.¡± He couldn¡¯t tell them how many times he had married in the past. Or rather, in futures that were stored in the memory banks of the machine. Every time there had been a reversion had tolled on him too much. He didn¡¯t marry anymore.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    After breakfast they all helped clean up. Peter absently twirled a plate in his fingers after drying it. He¡¯d lost count of how many he¡¯d dropped in the past ages. He¡¯d spent an entire vacation once angering his mother by breaking all the plates, turning time backwards and trying again. He¡¯d mastered the form about a hundred years ago.


    Wanda stepped through the door to the kitchen and let out a scoff of exasperation before turning around and leaving.


    Peter smiled.


    ¡°Mom can¡¯t stand it when you do that. You drove her out of the kitchen!¡± Peter¡¯s sister, Vona, said. She finished washing a plate and handed it to him.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t fun any other way.¡± Something particular Peter found with Vona was she always married the same man or not at all in all the pasts he knew of. ¡°How¡¯s Anard?¡±


    ¡°He had to stay another day for work, but he¡¯ll be coming after that. You need to go hunting with him. He¡¯s really looking forward to seeing your marksmanship again.¡±


    Peter dried another plate with a flourish. ¡°Hmm, I might.¡± Anard¡¯s fascination with the military had killed the man several times before. Peter had eventually stopped indulging Anard¡¯s interests altogether.


    Peter looked side-long at Vona. She took after her mother and didn¡¯t perfect her body. His eyes lingered on the lines and tones of her face, how it moved when she talked, the flash of her eyes and the way her straight hair frizzed in the humidity. He could see every imperfection that was culled from Terisha¡¯s own appearance.


    Terisha came into the kitchen carrying more dirty dishes and sat them down. Her every movement was graceful and not a hair of hers flew out of place as she turned on her heel and left the room.


    After finishing the dishes, Peter sat around with his family and ¡®talked politics¡¯ as his father put it. Opinions of what would happen with social struggles were mulled over. Arguments were put forth and in the end everyone came to one agreement.


    Except Peter, though he didn¡¯t show it. These were the most boring times with his family. For him, there was no speculation or opinion. He simply knew a hundred different factual outcomes that had happened before. Instead of trying to convince his family of the truth the future most likely held, he sided with one of the opinions of the others and spoke sparingly.


    After they had talked themselves out, he helped put together pack lunches. The plan was to eat them for lunch while out hunting.


    Peter hitched his rifle over his shoulder and stopped before going out the door. He looked back in the living room where his mother was sitting down with a book.


    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to come with us? You used to¡­¡±


    ¡°I enjoy relaxing with a book anymore.¡± Wanda smiled warmly. ¡°It¡¯s more than enough fun for me to see everyone together.¡±


    Peter nodded and caught up with the others. Their path quickly took them past their property fence and into the hills. Terisha wasn¡¯t with them. Vona had come along as well as Harold and their father.


    Vona had brought a shotgun and took potshots at squirrels. Harold saw a coyote on an adjacent hill and took a potshot. The coyote¡¯s white throat showed more clearly as it perked up at the sound, then started trotting away at a quicker pace.


    Harold nudged Peter. ¡°Don¡¯t just let him get away. Finish him off for me.¡±


    Peter raised his rifle to his shoulder. This might be the last time this coyote is alive. The thought stopped him cold.


    ¡°Hey, he¡¯s getting away.¡±


    Peter blinked and took a shot.


    The coyote jumped and sprinted away as the bullet ricocheted off a stone.


    Harold glanced at Peter. ¡°You toying with him?¡±


    Peter lowered his rifle. ¡°I missed.¡±


    Vona chuckled. ¡°Yeah, right. You don¡¯t miss.¡±


    This might be the last time with my family.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Peter¡¯s father said, ¡°I saw some deer to the west of here. Let¡¯s see if we haven¡¯t scared them off yet.¡±


    As Peter followed them through the woods he could smell pine needles on the wind. He could hear the brush and crisp crackles of the sticks, leaves and dirt beneath their feet as they walked the rough trail. Sun dappled their faces.


    A bird flew from the trees in front of them. Peter¡¯s father quickly caught it with his eye. ¡°Bluejay,¡± he said.


    Harold looked to where it had perched itself on a branch.


    Vona was eyeing the trees, likely for squirrels. The wind blew her hair in her face and she brushed it back behind her hair. Another gust caught it again and she brushed it back again.


    Harold watched his steps. A stick would come underfoot and he would purposefully step on it.


    ¡°Possum,¡± Peter¡¯s father said.


    A twig snapped underfoot. ¡°Up late.¡±


    The last time with them¡­to see this place, to be hunting here¡­ His father¡¯s gait was careful and stiff. Harold let his feet fall flat. Though the path was straight, Vona¡¯s walk veered from one side of it to the other, often falling out of the line of the others.


    Peter¡¯s father held up his hand.


    Peter didn¡¯t look in the direction his father pointed. He¡¯d never watched his father¡¯s face when hunting before. There was an excitement there. An intelligent glint in the man¡¯s aging eyes. An acceptance of a challenge and the will to attempt it.


    Harold calmly unslung his rifle.


    Vona softly ejected a shell from her shotgun and caught it. She replaced it by sliding a slug in the chamber and clacking the action home.


    Harold turned and gave her a withering look.


    Peter¡¯s father, Asod, didn¡¯t take his eyes off the deer. He brought his finger to his lips. ¡°Shhh.¡±


    Peter followed behind the others as his father, Asod, led them on a round-about way through a dry riverbed. Asod watched where he stepped. Harold walked toe-to-heel in a quiet half-crouch. Vona¡¯s steps took her further to one side or another as she took wide berths around patches of blown leaves.


    The smell of dry earth and rotting wood and leaves was in the air. The wind hushed through the grasses and over the riverbed. A blade of grass swayed under the pressure of the wind, sprung back, dipped and fell and waved.


    Peter could feel the changes all around him. Vona lifted her foot, it arched through the air then fell upon soil. It rose again and left behind the print of her boot.


    Everything was changing. Before, there was always the machine. A moment would never end with finality. There wasn¡¯t permanence.


    A rifle cracked with its report and Peter jumped, feeling the shockwave in his chest. A deer fell.


    Asod gave Harold a handshake in congratulations. Vona gave him a high-five.


    Peter breathed quicker. Asod smiled with his eyes. Harold grinned widely. Vona smiled, but didn¡¯t show the teeth she¡¯d been born with.


    Harold turned to him, expecting something.


    Reality seemed to pull back. Everything felt surreal. The world slowed as Peter drew upon the machine¡¯s mainframe computer. What¡¯s Harold expecting? How did I act last time? No, before everything. How did I act?


    The machine gave him a view upon himself and millennia flowed through his mind. He saw himself, young, with the same rifle he carried now. He was with Harold. Harold shot a coyote and they tracked it down till it died. He gave Harold a quick hug for his success.


    Peter opened his arms as he left the vision and gave Harold a hug. How many years had he gone without hugging his brother? The years of seeing his family in the same state over and over had numbed him. I¡¯ve been with them so long. But I don¡¯t feel like I know them anymore. Even as he hugged his brother he looked in the records of the machine. Where have I not seen my family? The answer, the truest of them, came to him.


    The end of the Origin record.


    ***


    Peter settled on his feet and shivered as a numbing wind blew over him. He snapped his fingers and the machine created a heavy coat around him. Through the blizzard Peter could just barely see the yellow glow of his family¡¯s home in the darkness.


    He had to be quick with this. The longer he stayed the more likely it would become that someone from outside the fence would notice the extremely localized snowstorm.


    He ducked his head down and forged his way through the snow. His breath fogged and he snapped his fingers again. A scarf wrapped itself around his neck and a stocking cap was placed upon his head with perfect precision. Peter adjusted them both then thrust his hands in his pockets.


    He picked his legs up over the drifts of snow, leaving a trail of holes in the blowing snow. His nose began to drip.


    He trudged up the shallow hill to the house. Snow was lit orange as it blew by the light of the windows. He carefully tromped up the steps and kicked his toes on the porch to loosen the snow from his boots.


    He heard his mother¡¯s muffled voice within. ¡°Who¡¯s that, I wonder? Soddy get some cocoa ready will you?¡±


    The porch light was turned on and a drape was pulled aside, revealing the shadowed face of Wanda. Her hair was mostly gray.


    ¡°It¡¯s Peter dear!¡± She called behind her. She disappeared from the window. The next moment she was opening the door and pulling Peter in by the sleeve.


    She¡¯s able to recognize me like this? Peter wondered.


    ¡°For Pete¡¯s sake! And yours too! Why don¡¯t you just telepo to our living room?! You¡¯ll catch a cold!¡± She reached up and unwrapped the scarf around him.


    ¡°What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn¡¯t you be at work? You didn¡¯t get fired did you?¡± She took his coat from him and hung it up by the fire along with his scarf and stocking cap. She placed her hand on his nose. It was warm.


    ¡°Ooh! You¡¯re cold! Sod! Is that cocoa ready? Your boots Petey.¡±


    Peter took them off and she carried them over to the pot-belly stove. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t see why you travel from that hill on the edge of the property. None of your siblings do anymore. They¡¯re into that telepo and just pop in unannounced! Sit down, sit! I¡¯ll get your cocoa.¡± She hobbled off to the kitchen.


    Peter sat in the old couch and its old, familiar smell wafted up from it.


    Wanda came back with the cocoa and gave it to Peter. Then she sat down across from him.


    He sipped at the cocoa and he felt the warmth slowly spread through him. He half-listened to Wanda talk about everything that was going on. He focused on just being there. The howling wind blew outside. The snow was lit momentarily as it whisked by the window to the ground. Peter could feel a cold draft at his feet. It was likely from the window. The mug in his hands was almost too hot to hold. Wanda complained and worried about him. Peter knew all too well she was glad to see him.


    Asod came in with two mugs and gave one to Wanda. Then he pulled up a stool to sit on between them. Asod listened quietly.


    Wanda complained about another chicken getting caught by the fox. Asod spoke up and said he¡¯d been trying for years. Wanda ignored him and continued in another line about Vona. She was waiting for her husband to return from the war with Nebiezar. She had baked him a cake to welcome him back from his tour of duty. He was supposed to return tomorrow.


    The calm of home disappeared from Peter¡¯s mind. That¡¯s right. I encouraged him back then to join the military. If I change everything back to the Origin, he¡¯ll likely be helping with the last push against the Nebeizar home world.


    Harold¡¯s business meeting had gone well. The investor was interested in terraforming the planet Harold had pitched.


    I never knew he became so successful. I was still an agent when the Origin was being recorded. I only had a few minutes of warning before everything was reverted for the first time.


    Terisha was coming over later in the week. She said she had something to talk about.


    Peter could see the hurt in his mother¡¯s eyes. This was before they made up, he thought. When he thought about it, in those times when the bomb¡¯s detonation had been averted, it was right around this same time Terisha had made up with Wanda. In the times after the first reversion, Peter had worked to correct his family¡¯s problems sooner. He¡¯d learned exactly what to say and when. His family became as peaceful on his vacations as the rest of the worlds Peter fought hard to perfect.


    It had become too much like his marriages. Out of all of them there was one he still wished he could be with. She¡¯s the reason I don¡¯t talk much anymore, he thought. Living that close to her let her see the truth of what I¡¯d seen. Our marriage wasn¡¯t new and exciting after the first few reversions. I knew how to talk to her and eventually, I manipulated her. She would always encourage me though.


    There was a large market for hand-made goods in many worlds. Before becoming an agent, Peter had wanted to become a craftsman. Wanda still kept a dusty finger-pot of his on a shelf from when he was just a boy. There were also finger paintings, a woven basket, and a carved wooden dog that he¡¯d made.


    I could have mastered all the arts in the time I¡¯ve tried to perfect the worlds, he thought.


    ***


    Peter¡¯s feet settled on the grass. Before him, rising from the plains around him and from the mountain range on the horizon was a monolithic structure made of gleaming metal.


    Back to work. He¡¯d spent the rest of his week with his family. Any friends he¡¯d had at the Origin he¡¯d pushed away long ago.


    The wind brushed against the grasses and his hair as he found the broad brick path that led into the plain structure. Teleportation into the control center was strictly forbidden. A field kept any from doing so even if they tried to disobey that rule.


    Others blinked into existence around Peter upon the plains. Soon, the pathways became congested with every kind of worker. From Janitor to the Prime Controller, every man had to walk this way into the structure.


    A man blinked into step right along Peter. It was Keijay.


    Keijay stretched and looked over at Peter.


    Peter glanced at the sky. ¡°Good afternoon.¡±


    Keijay smiled. ¡°You have a relaxing vacation?¡±


    Peter paused. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always hard right before a reversion.¡± He looked around at those walking with them. ¡°As your superior it¡¯s hard seeing everyone come to work with the same grim face.¡±


    This isn¡¯t just any reversion. This will be the moment that decides our fates. He didn¡¯t respond to Keijay.


    They stepped into the building and promptly stepped into an elevator. It was an old technology, but for security reasons it was essential. For an entire minute the elevator acted as a prison while it checked every aspect of a person against its records.


    The elevator took them to the control room floor. After they stepped out of the elevator it took them another hour to make their way through all the security checks.


    Eventually, they stepped through the main control room¡¯s doors and took their seats at their stations. Each station had monitors and banks of buttons. These only served as rudimentary backups. For Peter¡¯s work, he simply had to sit in a chair and sync his mind to the machine.


    Keijay took his place on a diadem above the circles of stations as more workers trickled in.


    Peter eyed them. Who was for the resistance? Who was against it? He glanced at a station across the room. That man had to be for the resistance. He was the other verifier who turned the key at the same time as Peter to activate the reversions. By regulation, Peter was forbidden any contact with the person.


    Questions filled Peter¡¯s mind as more people took their seats in the large room. How could the resistance make their way past the security systems? How would Peter even change the projected reversion at the last moment?


    Will I even agree to it? He thought.


    Analysts ran their diagnostics of the machine¡¯s systems. Every department ran through digital and physical checks. Peter himself had to rerun a few checks. He had to fight the urge to fidget in anticipation. A moment of desperation threatened to grip him.


    What if I¡¯ve been deceived? Perhaps I¡¯m being set up? It looks like a normal day for everyone.


    ¡°Pete?¡±


    Peter nearly jumped. Keijay was standing right next to him.


    Keijay leaned on the edge of Peter¡¯s station. His face was a little concerned. ¡°Pete,¡± Keijay projected telepathically on an encrypted channel, ¡°It¡¯s my job to review my subordinate¡¯s vacation and verify there wasn¡¯t any breach of protocol. I couldn¡¯t help but see that you created a localized reversion at the end of the Origin¡­I hope everything is alright with you.¡±


    Peter eyed Keijay. He had the suspicion Keijay was on the rebellion¡¯s side, but he wasn¡¯t sure. Peter allowed himself a telepathic nod. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ve gotten old and sentimental. I haven¡¯t looked that far back in a long time.¡±


    Keijay nodded and patted Peter on the shoulder. ¡°Back to work.¡±


    After Keijay left Peter let out a sigh. Does he suspect me? Truth is¡­ He thought back to his last moments with his family. He¡¯d said his goodbyes and had hugged them all. Each hug felt torturous for him. After he had finished he reverted everything back and hugged them again. He cherished the feeling of their warmth against him each time. Every time he tried to speak his truest feelings to them but he couldn¡¯t put them to words. He could only hug them tighter.


    Vona had left him a parting gift. Homemade chocolate chip cookies. He had them now in his pocket.


    ¡­am I part of the rebellion any longer?


    It took most of the day for the machine to be readied. Small problems were rooted out of the complex machine. The machine was never without them. There was always a small risk.


    For Peter, the time felt like it took the smallest part of forever for the machine to be readied.


    The moment came. Peter checked and re-checked all of the metrics and reports. All systems were green. He readied his key. He felt a panic build within him. What would he choose? A thousand possibilities and arguments rushed through his mind.


    He looked across the room and met the eyes of the other man. He nodded.


    1¡­2¡­3¡­


    Time slowed for Peter as he twisted the key. A bare millisecond before his key clicked into place, the projected reversion time on all screens shifted to Age of Heaven¡¯s Rule: Origin: February 23, 3230.


    Peter heard the click as loud as the strike of a hammer.


    The next millisecond information was fed into his mind. All the information needed to wield a weapon.


    Peter¡¯s mind raced as he saw the reactions of those around him in slow motion. The weapon was controllable cracks in the field around the control room. Right now the machine was ¡°washing¡± the universe, anything exposed to its effects would be erased.


    Peter mind was actively connected to the machine¡¯s mainframe just like everyone else¡¯s in this room. His body had received every physical improvement available in Kasdeon¡¯s arsenal. The deciding factor here would be speed. Already, a man was pulling a weapon from the air and aiming it.


    A woman fired. A person¡¯s head exploded in slow motion.


    Who is friend? Who is foe? His mind rapidly crunched through calculations. What should he do with the one weapon given to him?


    Peter¡¯s roving eye looked straight down a gun barrel.


    Peter pointed, the gun disappeared. Light streamed in from a hole in the roof.


    Peter forced himself to look around. A man was pointing directly at the person whose gun Peter had destroyed.


    Was that a man or woman? He thought. Battle stress. Is the man a friend? I¡¯m not ready to make this decision. He followed the complex web. The person¡­a woman, who had tried to fire at him was being aimed at by a couple of others. Those would be the rebellion. Where had all the guns come from? Those two had others aiming at them, and those¡­some were aiming at each other¡­he watched as a supposed rebel turned his eyes towards another rebel. His gun starting swinging in that direction¡­


    Double agents. Peter glanced at Keijay. His attention was focused on fighting the man beside him.


    Peter suddenly felt the spike of cyber attacks being let loose in a flurry. His grip on the machine¡¯s processing power loosened and the world sped up around him. There wasn¡¯t time to tell friend from foe.


    A woman disappeared. Erased. A badly aimed shot tore through the electronics of stations, throwing debris into the air. Light flashed from sparks. Guns fired. Peter threw up an arm and shielded himself with a ray from the machine. The laser round dissipated before his eyes.


    He threw himself to the ground as his station exploded with the rapid-fire rounds of a plasma rifle. Screams. His own?


    He launched himself from his belly, his old instincts taking ahold. His mind frantically fought for control of his portion of the mainframe. He ran, ducking below the meagre cover of the stations. He watched as a man¡¯s mind was hacked and he turned his weapon on his allies.


    Plasma struck machines and men sending gouts of molten metal and evaporating flesh into the air.


    Enemies were becoming allies and allies enemies faster than Peter could keep track.


    Those who wish to destroy your family are your enemy. Those who wish to play god are your enemy. Enemy. Enemy. Enemies.


    He ran into someone, he didn¡¯t look. He struck out at them with his only weapon. A ray of light replaced where they were a moment before.


    He shrouded himself with his weapon and a ray of light followed him where he ran. Plasma and laser fire dissipated harmlessly against his makeshift shield.


    A ray of light appeared at one end of the room and swept towards him. It chewed through the building like a hot knife. It cut people in two and left nothing but a hand of another leaving a chasm as deep as the core of the planet.


    Peter held up his hand as he leapt aside. The beam slipped by unimpeded by his effort to control it. In the next moment he was rocked by an explosion and his face was scalded by the heat of flames spewing from the chasm.


    This is madness. They¡¯re all my enemy.


    He raised his hand, then swept it across the room. The roof was torn away in a moment revealing clear sky. The entire room was leveled to a bare metal floor. The hands that had tried to grasp his mind disappeared. The flashes of gunfire, the glowing fires, the noise, all disappeared. For a moment, the sun was still in the sky. Then, its light was whisked away along with the clouds and the blue of the sky.


    Something landed with a thoom on the floor behind him. Peter turned.


    Keijay stood before him, the lights in the walls of the massive room dimly lit his form. He held his hand raised with its palm facing Peter.


    Above them was an eerily empty blackness.


    Moments passed, stars began to blink into existence.


    Peter trembled as he stood up. He tried to speak, but he found he was breathing hard.


    ¡°What will you choose?¡± Keijay¡¯s stern eyes burned into Peter.


    ¡°I can¡¯t accept either.¡± Peter gasped. The field he kept around himself wouldn¡¯t stop another person wielding the same power. More stars blinked into existence. However, that power had a limit.


    Was the machine meant to be? The savior from the Cataclysm Bomb? What if the machine only bred evil? He¡¯d seen what he had done with the knowledge and power it had given him. I ignore the first woman I ever loved because of the machine. I only came to hurt her. Then I cheated on her with other women in other times because they were the only ones I could share something new with. I¡¯ve rejected all my friends. Even my family has come under my manipulation. The machine creates a false existence for them as we manipulate the world they live in. Yet, to murder uncountable souls!


    Keijay waited.


    Peter looked at Keijay¡¯s dim form. ¡°Tell me, what would you choose?¡±


    ¡°Some of these people were like family to me.¡± Keijay said through clenched teeth. He lowered his hand. Its power useless now. ¡°You killed every last one of them.¡± He pointed at Peter. ¡°YOU choose!¡±


    Peter shook his head.


    ¡°YOU! CHOOSE!¡±


    ¡°Why?!¡± Peter yelled.


    The stars finished forming. The moon brightened into existence, bathing them in pale light.


    A tear streaked down Keijay¡¯s cheek. ¡°Nate and I were going to have a drink after this. You deserve to be responsible!¡±


    A display rose on the far wall. A warning was sent to their minds the same time it was splashed across the screen. It showed the known universe. A red sphere was swallowing the map. The Cataclysm Explosion.


    Peter gazed at the stars above him. He couldn¡¯t see the explosion. It wasn¡¯t something a person saw. The explosion would be upon them before they could notice any change.


    The blackness around the stars seemed to swallow their light. They looked so fragile. Like they might be snuffed out forever if one simply threw a blanket over them.


    The red orb grew and neared them.


    Peter sent a command with a thought. The orb froze in its motion. The stars stopped twinkling. The wisps of clouds froze in their movement across the face of the moon.


    Keijay looked from the display to Peter.


    Peter shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to choose.¡±


    Only Peter and Keijay moved in all the known universe.

 Grave Digger

    The mountain beneath his feet shudders with each stroke of his pickaxe. He glances up at the dull gray of the coming storm and redoubles his efforts. His limbs tremble from the cold and his teeth chatter. He hears a clattering and a rumbling and turns quickly about. A rockslide on a nearby slope sends up dust and makes the ground beneath him tremble.


    He wears two cloaks about him against the cold. The one on top is a woman¡¯s cut. Both of them are ragged and dirty from many nights spent sleeping in the streets.


    Bone chips away in splinters from the hip bone. The monstrous form of ribs rises far above him. A hundred years stale stench wafts on the winds as the youngest generation of vultures circles the rotting corpse.


    His donkey shows as many ribs as the giant.


    Your bones will be broken,


    The shingles of your homes shall clatter to the boulevard.


    The sound of the pickaxe pings against the pointed sides of the mountains. It is answered by the rumble of thunder. The clouds broil and glow like a fire has been lit within them by the setting sun.


    Lone clouds slowly move by, low in the sky.


    The sword trembles with the mountain and vibrates in the wind. It tones a low thrum he can feel through the wraps he calls shoes.


    The weapons you forged will become your tombstone


    And your grave will be defiled by insects.


    Finally, he breaks into the marrow of the bone and reveals the gold blood that once flowed through the giant¡¯s veins. He widens the hole greedily as the rockslide calms down and the storm nears.


    The blood has cooled now but he easily scraps it out into a sack. In his head, he is already figuring the portions between them when he gets back. His portion is the largest.


    The mountain groans and the bones moan and creak, shifting their enormous weight. The donkey brays.


    The flame you took down from the sky to warm your hearths


    Will eternally burn your foundations.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He¡¯s gathered up as much as he can hold and he strains against the glittering metal¡¯s weight. He puts it on the bare donkey¡¯s back and he unties it from the bush, the rope chafes against his chapped skin. The donkey brays and resists.


    He huffs from the exertion and tugs on the rope.


    Other holes have been chipped in the bones. Other men¡¯s bones lie by the giant¡¯s bones. Some of their bones are broken from falls, cracked from the cold or by men¡¯s forged steel.


    Suddenly, the wind blows harder and the storm looms higher than the bones of the giant. Lightning flashes across the sky and cracks the air with its shout.


    The rains your children played in will turn to ice.


    Your crops will never grow again.


    The donkey lurches forward and jogs over the stones past him. He struggles and stumbles over the rocks to keep up as they head back down the path. Part of it is covered over now with the stones of the rockslide.


    His mind turns to the sheltered alleys of his home. Small walkways between buildings where the wind could not come through one¡¯s already thin clothes.


    Your blood shall flow through the ruins of your homes,


    The streams will carry it down your rubble-strewn streets


    He rushes from before the storm into the valley. It is almost upon him now and the first few flakes of a blizzard fall.


    He spurns himself on with the thought of what he can buy. He could afford a fireplace, food every day, clothes to warm him¡­and a bed! A bed!


    He passes a small cluster of violet flowers in the cleft between two boulders and he remembers his promise. The gold was for himself and the others, but for the owner of the top cloak, the only request was a flower that only grew on that mountain.


    The forest isn¡¯t far away now. The trees mean wood for fire and shelter from the wind quickly numbing his limbs. He is counting seconds now till he freezes. He would have frozen a lot sooner with only one cloak.


    Your wealth and power shall disappear


    Like the glory of summer with the coming of winter.


    He scrambles over the rocks with numbing limbs and reaches the flowers. He scraps his arm, drawing blood as he reaches for them. He has to watch his numb hand to see it grasp the flowers. Petals bruise beneath his grip as he tears them from the dirt.


    He hurries back to the donkey and they huddle against each other as they stiffly walk down the slope and into the trees.


    He gathers wood as he walks, gripping the sticks in the arm opposite the flowers. He pushes through a thicket, barely feeling the branches brush against him. In the midst of the bushes, with snow gently falling, he attempts to make a fire.


    Instead of leisurely thinking of life


    You shall try to grasp it by force at the heel.


    He warms himself against the donkey, then tries again.


    Finally, smoke lifts from the sticks and a flame lights. He greedily stokes the fire with larger and larger sticks until he can feel the heat, then, he warms himself before gathering more wood.


    After he has enough stocked beside him, he picks up the flowers where he dropped them. Their color is richer than even the gold in his bag. He gently takes those bruised ones and tosses them to the side. He holds up the only two that remain and keeps them near the fire.


    Night falls. Snow gathers over the land. He takes some of the snow and melts it in his hands to fill his water skin. He puts the flowers in the neck of the skin so they can drink, then falls asleep after stoking the fire.


    He dreams not of warm halls or choice foods, but of a smile that could only come from the giving of a flower.


    You shall fall and rot, never to rise again,


    But with the coming of every spring,


    Something far cheaper than your grand halls


    And more easily lost,


    Will carry words worth more than your king¡¯s summons,


    Be dressed more elegantly than your wives,


    Be worth more than all your riches,


    And outlast you more than all your years.

 The Mask of Space

    A young man leaned against the balustrade of the opulent staircase and viewed the ship¡¯s mess hall before him. The man wore a smart suit of black with a gold tie. Not a mess hall, he reminded himself, a dining room. A fancy one at that. Cruise ships didn¡¯t have mess halls or galleys. They have dining rooms and bakeries. So sophisticated. He smiled.


    A fake smile. He didn¡¯t have many real ones.


    ¡°No lounging.¡± Came a voice from behind.


    The man straightened himself and turned as a middle-aged man with gray hair walked up to him ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    The man was Memard Ridardton, Chief Officiator of Nebula Dawn General Affairs. He smoothly strode up to the man with hands clasped behind his straight back and with a politely slight smile upon his lips. ¡°Heed the predicament you fashioned for yourself,¡± he stated. Ridardton was dressed in a plain black suit with only a red tie to mark his status. ¡°One becomes staff of the Nebula Dawn only if they are millionaires with repute or career servants from the most distinguished schools of etiquette. Fortunately for you, the board has determined your false identity, Arthurst Learhart, to be pivotal to the experience of some of our customers and you will be allowed to serve as part of the staff for the remainder of the voyage.¡±


    Learhart¡¯s jaw dropped slightly. ¡°Excuse me?!¡±


    The slight smile left Memard Ridardton¡¯s lips. ¡°This is one of the most distinguished cruise ships in all the worlds. We serve nothing less than royalty and trillionaires. Do you think we would not notice a con-artist¡­no, too refined a description, a stowaway to operate amongst our midst?¡±


    Learhart swallowed, ¡°I suppose you have guards nearby?¡±


    The slight smile came back to Memard Ridardton¡¯s lips. ¡°Guards? I suppose special forces could fit that role. Your first duty will be to replace Urdnund Lucha and clean this dining room by breakfast.¡± With that, Ridardton swiveled smoothly away and strode from the room.


    Of all the **** **** times to be ******* caught! Learhart slumped against the balustrade. He checked his watch; it was 9:38. He slowly turned and looked at the dining room. It looked spotless. How¡­how was he supposed to clean what was already clean? He walked down the sweeping stair and checked under the tables, nothing. The tables were clean. Immaculate. He checked the wood trimming on the walls for dust and found the lingering scent of lemon oil. More importantly, how could he get away? He thought as he made his inspection. His training and experience had allowed him to regain his composure. They weren¡¯t shooting him yet.


    He stood in the middle of the room and looked around himself. And just what am I supposed to clean here? He sat down in one of the chairs and tapped his fingers. His answer came after ten minutes of him thinking in frustration. A small group of passengers came into the far side of the dining room and sat at a table. A waiter soon came to them and they ordered.


    The kitchen was open this late?! Learhart put two and two together and covered his eyes with a hand. The dining room is open all night long and here I am to clean up after everyone. He stood, took off his jacket and stood close to the group ready to clean up a spill or take dirty plates. Naturally, the high-bred people didn¡¯t make a mess. Learhart didn¡¯t expect them to. The wine was served. As the people joked and laughed together one of them reached for his glass without looking and knocked it over.


    Learhart cringed. The silk tablecloth was stained bright red. What idiots! He moved forward in a flash and caught the spreading liquid before it could spill onto the man.


    ¡°Many thanks.¡±


    Learhart smiled graciously, ¡°It is my pleasure.¡± These people are getting a little tipsy. After cleaning the mess as much as he could, he returned to his post. The people got more tipsy and spilled more and made more of a mess as they ordered more food. They finally left, leaving smears of food on the carpet, stains, and even a broken glass. And a nice tip. Perhaps I should get into the waiter business.


    Learhart surveyed the wreck. So this is what it is going to be like. All, night, long. Already, he could see another group coming in at another entrance. He sighed and continued cleaning up and correctly treating the wood beneath the tablecloth. Good thing I have experience from those days at the hotel. He was so focused on cleaning as quickly as possible before the other group made an equally sized mess he didn¡¯t notice a woman approaching him.


    A voice chuckled. ¡°Arthurst? May I ask what you are doing?¡±


    Learhart looked up; it was Kim Rayick. Well this is just great. To think I had been flirting with her just a few hours ago. Not to mention she was one of my more promising marks. Her family likes to carry a lot of cold hard cash around. Strangely, she was wearing jeans and a simple T-shirt. Well, ¡®simple¡¯ wouldn¡¯t apply here. The T-shirt was made of bullet-proof material. He smiled. ¡°Good evening Kim Rayick, what may I do for you?¡±


    She raised an eyebrow and smiled. ¡°So formal! Tell me, why are you cleaning like a servant?¡±


    Learhart¡¯s stomach turned inside him in disgust at the thought of his predicament. He had to fight curling his lip. What happened was a smirk. ¡°I am a servant. It is something new Nebula Dawn is testing. Some of us go undercover amongst the customers to keep your stay here entertaining. Just don¡¯t tell anyone okay?¡±


    Kim¡¯s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward over the back of a chair. Which was a feat for her, she wasn¡¯t too tall. A loose strand of brown hair fell over her face and she puffed it to the side. ¡°Mmmhmm, sure you are.¡± She smiled, ¡°I¡¯ll play along, come, let¡¯s look at the stars from the big windows.¡±


    ¡°I have a job to do.¡± The sounds of laughter floated across the room to him. He ran his hand through his slicked hair.


    ¡°Yes, you do. Isn¡¯t it the Nebula Dawn¡¯s motto to always serve the customer their needs? I say I need you to escort me and give me friendly company.¡± She upturned her nose. A nose some women would say was too large.


    Learhart thought it was just the right size. Ah, forgot about the Nebula Dawn¡¯s near-crazed motto to please the customers in every possible way. Wasn¡¯t that the reason why he was still here and not locked up? He glanced around the room. Another group had already come in and sat down, and still another was being seated. His job was going to stack up fast. Yet, he knew he had to fulfill his duties as a temporary servant of Nebula Dawn. ¡°Then, madam, I shall escort you.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, so formal! Come on.¡±


    Hadn¡¯t she acted just as formal at the ball? Now that she wasn¡¯t in a dress her formality filter had turned off. He started walking out of the room and she followed. He felt like a dozen invisible eyes had their piercing glare upon him. He knew the guards were still there. ¡°Tell me, why do you need an escort to look at stars with you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know, to keep other men from getting ideas about a lone woman looking dreamily out upon the expanse of space. It¡¯s romantic you know.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Uh huh.¡± Just as they crossed the threshold out of the dining room, both of his shoulders were tapped on. He looked back but no one was there. He gulped. What a creepy way to remind him they were still watching. He suppressed a shiver and turned forward again. Kim was looking at him.


    ¡°Are you worrying about your,¡± she held up two quotation marks, ¡°work.¡±


    ¡°Nothing of the sort.¡± He said smiling. Yep, nothing of the sort. More like worried about a bullet in the back.


    She sighed. ¡°This is your work right now, escort me to the window, worry about that.¡± She looked at him. ¡°Or I might lodge a complaint.¡±


    This elicited a smile from him. A real smile, he thought.


    They reached the viewing room and looked out of the massive windows into the depths of space and clouds of nebulas surrounding them on every side. There were a few other people there, mostly couples. The silence was filled with whispers adding to the mystic quality of the view.


    She slid her arm through his and he led her to the edge where glass replaced the floor. She hesitated a moment before stepping over the threshold onto the glass. Then they came as near to the wall of glass as possible, so the ship wasn¡¯t in their peripheral. For awhile they looked at the endless depth of the nebula and stars in silence. She pressed her head into his shoulder. He could see the entire nebula and beyond it to the star-speckled depths of space. He could see all the million suns and the gasses they lit, but he knew he couldn¡¯t see the trillions in the dark of space beyond his sight. The Galaxy showed its fake face here and hid its thoughts in its blackness. He felt as if he might float into the depths of space. Whether that was from the view or her or both, he didn¡¯t know.


    If only he could stay like this forever. Well, not forever. The silence was getting awkward. His phone buzzed and he took the opportunity to check it.


    It read. ¡°Don¡¯t take too long. Memard Ridardton.¡±


    ¡°Who texted?¡± Kim asked, leaning over. Her eyes widened. ¡°Who uses a phone anymore? Where¡¯d you get that? A museum?¡±


    Learhart pulled the phone from her view. ¡°It¡¯s nothing, just my boss.¡± He took the chance to open the profile he had made on her when he had still been planning to swipe her money. He read a few entries then put the phone in his pocket. ¡°So, tell me something about yourself.¡± He changed the subject from the phone. He actually had gotten it from a museum. After some modifications, it became a stylish status symbol for his undercover identities.


    ¡°Oh, there isn¡¯t much.¡±


    ¡°Of course there is, your family must be very rich. You¡¯re on this ship after all.¡±


    She nodded, ¡°I¡¯m not a daddy¡¯s girl like some think. I earn my own money. I help him in his Artificial Intelligence programming.¡±


    Learhart whistled, ¡°Rich and smart.¡±


    She knuckled him in the ribs and he winced. She had hit a rib even through his toned muscle. ¡°I said I help him in programming; I don¡¯t do any programming myself.¡±


    ¡°How do you,¡± he held up quotation marks, ¡°help.¡±


    She pulled away from him and sat on the ground. ¡°He makes AI personalities based on mine.¡±


    ¡°That must be cool.¡± And this is why she was a good mark. The AI business was huge and reaped a ton of profit.


    ¡°Hah!¡±


    This startled him.


    ¡°I got you to chill out! You said ¡®cool.¡¯¡± She laughed at her own joke and rolled back on her haunches a little.


    He really couldn¡¯t complain. She is pretty entertaining. He was having a good time. His phone dinged and he checked it. He had set his phone so it would ding only if a message from the syndicate came through. The message read:


    ¡°Boss has other plans for your mark. Get ready in 10 secs for extraction.¡±


    ¡°Another message?¡± Kim asked.


    He frowned. ¡°Uh, yeah. Pretty important one too.¡± How could he prepare with guards watching him?


    9


    Kim craned her neck and looked up at the stars.


    ¡°I have to get back to work now.¡± He said.


    8


    ¡°Do you have to? Is this boring you?¡± She sighed ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll go with you. May as well keep you company while you work.¡±


    7


    Time was running out. He had to go, now! No, no. Keep up appearances. He helped her to her feet. And she put her arm into his.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She said.


    6


    They walked back towards the door. He had to keep his body in check from wildly running towards the escape pods.


    5


    ¡°So you¡¯re really a servant?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡± And no, and yes again. Not an official servant here, but made a servant. Yet also a servant to the syndicate. It felt like the furious pumping of his heart was blowing his chest up like a balloon.


    4


    They reached the doorway and were making their way down the hallway.


    ¡°When do you get off work?¡±


    ¡°Before breakfast.¡± Learhart had to fight clenching his teeth. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon.


    3


    ¡°I¡¯m always working.¡±


    Learhart looked at her. ¡°You work a lot of hours?¡±


    2


    ¡°Its not so much that, I literally work all the time. It¡¯s how my job works.¡±


    Here it comes!


    1


    Learhart breathed in. Nothing happened. As he kept walking forward he felt Kim stop as she tugged on his arm.


    He looked back at her. ¡°Something wrong?¡± He glanced at the hallway behind her and then back the way they were going. Nothing. He looked back at her face. Her eyes had a far-away look and her mouth was open a little. Her body was in mid-stride and he wondered if he let her go she would fall.


    ¡°Hey.¡± He waved his other hand in front of her face.


    ¡°I¡­I¡­I lost¡­I lost connection.¡± She finally breathed out.


    He looked at her stupidly.


    Slowly, she started to sink to the floor.


    What was this? What had happened? He couldn¡¯t worry about this. He had to go now! He let her sink to the floor gently, feeling her soft limp hand. He tried to go but couldn¡¯t let go of her hand.


    Pounding footsteps sounded in the corridor and a group of armored men with guns rushed around the corner. He was in for it now. They rushed up to him and one gathered Kim in his arms.


    ¡°What is going on?¡± Learhart asked.


    One of the men flipped up his visor. ¡°Lin you fool! We gotta go! What are you doing standing there like a frog? Let¡¯s get moving!¡±


    Learhart squinted. ¡°Terk?! What¡¯s going on?¡± They were moving back down the hall again with the group of soldiers at a fast clip only hesitating to check corners. ¡°And quiet down on the Lin, my name is Learhart here.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t matter. It¡¯s make or break now dude.¡±


    ¡°Just tell me why we¡¯re kidnapping Kim!¡±


    ¡°That ain¡¯t Kim man. Advanced AI. Constantly updated with the experiences of the real Kim. That¡¯s why boss wants this thing. You practically make clones of yourself. We already nabbed the real Kim and put jammers on her.¡±


    This Kim wasn¡¯t real? He had a real smile with her though. Genuine. He felt a tear welling in his eye. Why did everything have to be so fake?

 Lost Founding

    Lost Founding


    By: J. Elias Epp


    Jayden sat in the shade created by the enormous bulk of the star-home called Shade and mended the ragged tear in his only coat. Cooking smoke rose out of a hole in Skylock¡¯s upper structure, the star-home across from Shade. Jayden was right across from Skylock¡¯s back end with his back against Shade¡¯s slanted side. He could hear dull thumping sounds from the rope bridges echoing through the metal. Sounds of hammering and voices came from the main doorway of Shade. The sun reflected dully from the dirt-caked metal of Skylock. Dry gritty wind rushed through the gap between the star homes.


    The day was hot, like all the rest had been since Jayden''s birth. Fortunately for him, the wind cooled as it swirled through the shade and its touch on him was sweet. It was cooler inside the star homes but there was also no wind inside. He could feel the cool of the star-home through his back and he knew the walls of Skylock were just as cool, even in full sunlight. Besides Shade and Skylock, there were no other star homes for many miles around. There was only desert.


    "Ouch!" Jayden shook the sting out of his finger from the needle and hissed through his teeth. He resumed his work more carefully and payed more attention to it. He awkwardly maneuvered his fingers so the bead of blood on his finger would not touch the fabric.


    Another 30 minutes passed before he finished his work and got up, brushing the sand from his pants. A few others had come out of the main doorway and were making a trip across to Skylock. One of the called out to him.


    "Jayden! Where have you been?!" A young man trotted up to Jayden. The man had pants and a shirt far too large for him and a balaclava wrapped about his head.


    "I tore my coat."


    "Tor-roo has been looking for you, better go and see him." With that, the man rejoined the group as they entered Skylock.


    Jayden flung his faded green coat over his shoulder. He walked along the side of Shade to reach the large main entrance which was at the top of a sandy slope. As he trudged up the slope his feet kept slipping from under him where the hard-packed sand gave way to his weight. He reached the top and stopped as he walked into the door''s shadow to let his eyes adjust to the dimness. Here and there a beam of light shone brightly through rents in Shade''s side. The beams of light made it difficult to see into the darker parts of the room.


    His eyes adjusted and he was able to see various workstations clustered around these beams of light. Close to him was a table with women and children preparing food. Further on was a man busy fixing tools. The entire floor was slanted upwards and as people walked around they had an awkward gait because of it. Jayden walked between the beams of light, careful not to be blinded by their brightness.


    He reached a stairs and walked up. From there he walked through numerous other passages and stairs pausing only briefly to deposit his coat on his bunk. Though everything was slanted his movements were familiar with the awkwardness. At one point he had to jump across a three-foot rent in the floor. He never liked that part. Through the rent he could see twisted metal below and other passageways. If he were to fall...he continued on. His long trip caused perspiration to break out on his forehead though it was quite cool in the ship, but as he continued upwards it got slightly warmer.


    Eventually, he passed through several sets of thick doors that had only been partly opened, up some stairs and into a room with windows all around. The windows had crude shades on them made from clothing that was beyond repair. In the middle of the room on a raised dais were a small group of men. The dais had a table on it with chairs around it which the men were sitting in. The slant of the structure forced some of them to hold onto the table to keep their chair from swiveling.


    "Where have you been? We need to hear your report now," one of the men said.


    "It¡¯s my fault, forgive me. I went on a scouting mission into the frozen parts of Skylock and tore my coat.¡±


    "Did you find anything?"


    "No, but we mapped out more of its passages"


    The man sighed. "There may not be any more food down there. We can''t wait any longer, we have to buy more time. Tacknot, you will have to lessen the food rations even more."


    Every man''s stomach in the room tightened a little more.


    Another man spoke up, "We can''t live here much longer."


    The man who had spoken first, Tor-roo, motioned Jayden to sit down. "Tell us how your scouting mission went yesterday to the Long Valley. How is the water there?"


    Jayden sat down. "The stream has gotten stronger." Jayden got up and reached over the table tapping on a simple map. "The stream now reaches here."


    All the men bent forward and looked. "That is encouraging," said one.


    "You''re always the optimist, Beuht," said another.


    "It does mean the stream is stronger further up though," said Tor-roo.


    "We might die trying to get everyone there though."


    "You''re always the pessimist, Nir" said Beuht.


    Nir chuckled.


    "Did you find anything else?" Tor-roo continued, "Plant life? Greenery?"


    Jayden sat back in his chair and caught himself as it almost swiveled. His eyes didn¡¯t meet those there. "No, there was no plant life. Not even upstream where the water is fifty foot wide at places." He looked up, "That was in the first week of our mission."


    The men leaned forward. One¡¯s chair swiveled slightly.


    "It was at the end of our first week, when we were planning our trip back, that we saw a man."


    "A man? Was he alone?" said Nir.


    "He was alone. He came out of the rising sun and we watched from a hill as he followed the river. We could not see his face because of a hood he wore and he had a bag. As he walked along the river he reached into the bag and threw something on the ground into the damp sand.¡±


    ¡°We tried to approach him to speak with him and yelled at him but he payed us no mind and we could not catch up to him though we ran. In the evening, he disappeared into the setting sun. The next day we saw him again, or one like him come from the rising sun, only this time he was on the other side of the river. And like the last time he threw what was in his bag upon the ground. We passed by him and called out to him again but again to no avail. Again, the man disappeared on the horizon into the setting sun.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°On the third day after we started back here.¡± While we traveled we noticed something along the shore of the stream. There was grass. And at parts, there were the saplings of trees spouting up. Through the whole third day as we traveled, the growth along the shore grew taller and wider. By the time we had to leave the stream and travel the Slope back here, there were meadows and small thickets of saplings a foot high."


    "Plants! You say there were plants!" Beuht had stood up and had both hands on the table.


    "Yes there were plants, there were also people."


    Everyone started at this.


    Jayden tapped his finger on the table. "As we were trudging up the slope on the third day back we saw in the distance a small band of people traveling towards the stream. Our food was very low then so we did not try to make contact. They stopped by the stream and we don''t know of their movements after that. But we did see a hooded man leading them who looked much like the one we saw earlier."


    "Mmmmm, haaa, mmmm."


    All the men turned to the one gray-haired one in the room.


    "The man, the one who walked from and to the sun. I know his name. Hmmm."


    All the men sat patiently. Tod was the only one left of the Awoken. Those who were the first to be birthed on the world and who remembered bits of what happened before the Awakening. His was of the generation who had found Shade and Skylock and saw them for the star homes that held food, water and shelter for survival.


    Tod stroked his beard, what little there was that hadn¡¯t fallen out. "I have a name on the tip of my tongue. Phone? No, that''s...I don''t remember what. Rocket? No that''s...a ship...no, they aren''t connected at all." The sun had finally fallen to the point in the afternoon that it shone through the window opposite Tod and struck him in the eyes as he stood up to pace. He recoiled from the sudden light and staggered on his old legs. His arm reached out and gripped the table for support. Then his head lifted into the sun''s rays and he smiled. "Rawala! That¡¯s the name! Our sun! Our star that shines upon us! Rawala is here to sow the seeds of his world again!"


    Tor-roo closed his eyes. The others seemed to sit back a little in disappointment as well. This was not the answer they were expecting. Tod wasn''t usually given to his fits of...crazy. It was only once in a while he would get very excited and spout strings of nonsense. His eyes would light up with the revelation and then they would dim when his memory simply ran out, he could not remember more. Usually he was very intelligent.


    Tod sat back down but his eyes were still full of excitement. "The stars! Yes! I remember now! Rawala will take care of us. He knows what we need. We must all travel to the stream and settle there. It will be good for us."


    Nir frowned. "What are you saying old man? That the man Jayden saw is...a star? Our sun?"


    Tod''s eyes grew dark, he hadn''t heard Nir, his eyes were focused in the past. "They will come, the others. Oh how they hate this world! How they hate Rawala for tending it! They will come and try to destroy it just as their own were. The stars are coming to destroy just as we destroyed them." He trembled in his seat and gripped the table hard.


    Tor-roo motioned to Beuht and he took Tod out of the room. "Come, you need rest now."


    When he was gone and Beuht came back Tor-roo leaned forward. "Now, it is time we decided what to do. We cannot stay in this place much longer and we still need supplies to last us if we move and settle at the stream. We can''t grow food if we die of starvation doing it."


    Nir rubbed his forehead. "Like I said yesterday, we either take a greater risk scouting for other star homes in the desert or we try to survive at the stream. We will die here. We need to move."


    Tacknot absently waved his hand in the air. "Can''t we, I don''t know." His hand kept waving as if grasping for something. "Out there, with our own shelters, it''ll be hot, not cool like here. We could...you know." His hand waved higher then he set it in his lap."


    Jayden spoke up, "There is a canyon carved out by the winds, we might be able to take shelter there. Not all of us but some. However, it is further away from the stream than might be practical."


    Tor-roo stroked his chin. "Hmm, where is it?"


    Jayden pointed. "Its about a mile from where the stream is."


    Tacknot shook his head. "It is too far. To make the trip for water would be too much, it would have to be done at night."


    Tor-roo nodded. "I agree, it is too much. Is there anywhere else that we could take shelter in?"


    Jayden shook his head. "Not really, we¡¯ve scouted the length of the stream on all our trips and didn''t find many areas of natural shelter. If we move to the stream we may just have to take our own shelter somehow."


    Everyone was silent for a moment. The afternoon sun was shining fully in the window now and heating up the room. Perspiration was breaking out on everyone''s foreheads.


    "See what happens when you don''t make yourself available? We get hot." Nir said.


    Jayden smiled but it was a wane one.


    "We stay here we die, we move some of us will die. We can''t win this." Nir said. "Someone will die because of what we choose to do."


    Tor-roo stood up. "Tonight we start planning to move to the stream. Who knows if it will stay or be sucked up by the desert. We don''t have another choice."


    Everyone else got up, the room was getting warmer by the second and the metal the sun was shining on was getting hot.


    Tacknot came up to Jayden. "I was thinking, what makes it so cold in the depths of the star homes? It must be something right? What if we could take that with us when we move?"


    Jayden shrugged. "The problem is we still haven''t found much in those areas. A few frozen men but not much else. Not to mention some of the doors are frozen shut. It will take more than a scouting team to really search the place." Jayden stopped. "Not to mention, we have already lost five people to those places."


    Tacknot patted his shoulder. "Think on it, it may be worth it. I can''t tell you how many people we may lose to the heat when we move."


    Jayden grimaced. Together they went from the room and squeezed through the narrow gap of the thick door. As they made their way to their respective duties to see what needed to be readied for the departure, a child ran up to Jayden.


    "Hey Palto, where are you going?" Jayden asked.


    "I gotta tell Tor-roo about the strange man that came."


    "Strange man?"


    "Yeah, he just walked into Shade famished so we gave him a little to eat."


    "Okay, I saw Tor-roo go to his room, you might find him there."


    Palto ran off. When he was gone Jayden jogged down steps back to the main entrance, careful not to slide on the slanted slope. Who was this strange man? Was it the same they had encountered on the scouting mission? In five minutes Jayden was back to the main entrance. There was a small crowd gathered near the entrance. Jayden started jogging there but forgot himself and ran through a shaft of light from the ceiling. He stopped and blinked his eyes.


    "Look! There''s Jayden!" Someone called out.


    Jayden''s eyes cleared and he saw the crowd part and Hrote leading a man by the arm with a bowl sipping eagerly at it. The man''s dress was nothing like Jayden had seen before. The man was wearing what looked to be finely formed plates of metal all over his body. The man''s hair was long and unruly and it looked like someone had recently taken a knife and cut the hair''s length at the neck.


    "Who are you sir and where do you come from?" Jayden asked.


    The man looked up at him over the lip of the bowl and took another long sip finishing the broth off. He nonchalantly handed the empty bowl to the nearest person to the side of him. "Yes, that is the question. Only who I am and where I come from is something none of you know nor will ever figure out." The man laughed and slapped his forehead. "That''s the tragedy of it isn''t it? They don''t know! I guess I am nobody and from nowhere because those things that made me who I am and where I am from are no longer here. Ha! I''m nobody from nowhere from notime! Hahaha!" The man sighed and his face fell.


    "They probably think I''m crazy now." He looked up. "Oh, did I say that out loud? I''ve just been alone for so long..." He sat down on the nearest table and clapped his gloved hands. "So, as far as I''m concerned in all my wanderings you are among the only people left alive on this planet." His eyes looked up. "Which, if we were going by my old directive I would be inclined to kill you all." He looked back at their shocked faces. Their hard life hadn''t done anything to improve the hard countenances they now wore. They didn''t know what to do with the man. The man could also see the suffering they were going through, the pain of lost loved ones, the uncertainty of life, it was painted on all their faces. The man sighed. "Well, I guess you saved me. Can¡¯t go killing everyone on a whim. So, who¡¯s the big boss?"


    The sound of a sob came from in the crowd. Everyone turned. It was Tod.


    Tod walked forward out of the crowd, his face streaked with a single tear. "Are, are you a soldier from before the Awakening?"


    The man looked at Tod. "Old man, you remember?"


    ¡°Yes, I really do.¡±

 Reality Leak

    Yapo eyed the formation of soldiers. A ray of the setting sun shone between the skyscrapers and warmed him against the cool wind. His computer relayed a quick count of the soldier¡¯s total into his vision. ¡°Spider Five to Para-Web Ten.¡±


    Cysten¡¯s voice whispered into Yapo¡¯s earpiece. ¡°Para-Web Ten, go ahead Spider Five.¡± ¡°Today¡¯s toy count is one-hundred forty.¡±


    ¡°Copy Spider Five. You can go home now.¡±


    ¡°Copy.¡± Yapo quietly retreated across the rooftop. Something sticky sucked at his boot. He wrinkled his nose at the sweet stench coming from an overflowing trashcan. He shook his head.


    Update 9.24.2 of Urba-Scape had just launched yesterday. One of its touted features was the improved realism of smells.


    Yapo curled his lip and lightly descended the emergency fire staircase on the outside of the building. ¡°There¡¯s such a thing as too much realism,¡± he muttered.


    He left the warm ray of the sun¡¯s light and descended into cool shadows. His eyes grew accustomed to the darkness and he surveyed the narrow alley below him. Computer-generated characters walked to and fro between the buildings. A couple of bums warmed themselves next to a trashcan fire. The alley was littered with every kind of refuse some poor artist had worked for hours to make look realistic.


    Yapo¡¯s eyes were elsewhere though. A quick look at the people showed that there wasn¡¯t any other players like himself waiting for him below.


    He climbed down from the staircase and walked out of the alley and into a bustling street. A mini-map showed his location in the corner of his vision, as well as a waypoint marker showing the way back to his clan¡¯s base.


    Yapo¡¯s phone rang and he answered with a snap of his fingers. Cysten¡¯s voice chirped up in Yapo¡¯s ear. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m done gaming for tonight but I can wait for you to get back to the base. Were you able to level up today?¡±


    Yapo eyed his progress bar. ¡°No,¡± he said irritably, ¡°their mechanics are totally jacked. I could have leveled up three times in any other game by now.¡±


    Cysten sighed. ¡°Yeah, I hear they plan on fixing that in the next update. If you don¡¯t like it then don¡¯t play. I only asked you to buy it with me cuz my clan was leaving Twice-Life and needed more people to join.¡±


    Yapo checked behind him, looking in the crowed for anyone tailing him. Then he checked the rooftops. ¡°You¡¯re fine man, I think its my role in the clan. Being the scout every time just gets boring. I mean seriously, just let me ruin their plans every once in blue moon and allow me to infiltrate a base, or I don¡¯t know, steal something or snipe somebody. I¡¯ve been sinking experience points into the Infiltrator tree since Day One and have barely used any of my skills.¡±


    Cysten chuckled. ¡°At least they pay you good.¡±


    Yapo scoffed. ¡°If it didn¡¯t help pay my real-life rent, I¡¯d have left them long ago and become a spy for hire.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on! There are gamers who would kill to make actual money from gaming!¡±


    Yapo¡¯s mouth quirked into a smile as he slipped into a sewage drain. ¡°I don¡¯t think they know there¡¯s a difference between gaming for fun and gaming for a job. I bet you anything none of them have even thought about making a base in the sewers, especially with the latest update.¡±


    Cysten laughed. ¡°Awesome man, awesome. Dude, I hear we ticked off some small clan for enforcing protection money on one of their stores. They were totally gung-ho about taking us on until they made it into the sewers. Turned back right then and there.¡±


    Yapo chuckled. He made his way along the drain in a crouch, doing his best to avoid dubious lumps in the running water. ¡°I don¡¯t blame them.¡± He jumped down into a larger drain and stood up. From there it was only a short way to the locked iron grate that shut their temporary listening post off from the rest of the sewers.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Be sure to rinse off your boots!¡± Cysten yelled from the darkness inside the grate.


    Yapo washed his boots off with what he guessed was a hose that was usually used by maintenance crews. Then he unlocked the grate and closed it behind him. The rust clung to him and he brushed it off on his pants.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t see how you managed to get ahold of the keys to this place.¡± Yapo walked around the pipe¡¯s corner and ducked his head through an open door that was usually sealed. Inside were all sorts of sewage maintenance tools and machines lit by the blue light of Cysten¡¯s monitors.


    ¡°Magic, hey, check this out.¡± Cysten turned his blonde moppy head for only a moment before looking back at the screen.


    Yapo leaned on the back of Cysten¡¯s chair, by what means he had gotten down into the sewers was beyond Yapo. On one of Cysten¡¯s monitors was a live streaming of a news conference.


    The headline read; Laughing Clown Games CEO Announces Efforts to Combat Perception of Reality in his most Realistic Game.


    Yapo¡¯s mouth quirked into a smile. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Shh, listen.¡±


    ¡°¡­have to ask,¡± a news reporter was saying, ¡°why go to so much effort to make Urba-Scape realistic if you¡¯re just going to ruin that perception?¡±


    The CEO set his lips in a grim line. ¡°There is a difference between making it easy for players to immerse themselves in a game through realism and causing them to lose their perception of what is real. Our company hopes to implement several policies into our games that will still allow for their enjoyment while ensuring our customers experience a wholesome lifestyle.¡±


    ¡°What policies will those be?¡±


    ¡°We are planning to implement two of the policies tomorrow. One will place a hard limit on continuous gameplay to an hour and a half. A player will get a thirty-minute warning to come to a stopping point before they are forcefully logged out of the system. After that, they will have to be out-of-game for thirty minutes before they can rejoin.¡±


    ¡°The second policy will be periodic notifications in-game stating that they are in a virtual world and reminders to take food and water breaks. We believe that it is important to ensure the healthy lifestyle of our customers and¡­¡±


    Yapo nudged Cysten¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Seriously? They¡¯re going to limit our game time like we¡¯re children?¡±


    Cysten shook his head in disbelief. ¡°Dang it. You know what this means? It probably means our clan is going to move over to something like Dream-Life 6 when it comes out. I hear VT Games won¡¯t implement restrictions on their virtual games like Laughing Clown.¡±


    ¡°Really?! Are you serious?¡± Yapo threw his hands in the air. ¡°Whatever, they want to be like that then they won¡¯t have me as a customer. Just¡­.whatever, I¡¯m done for the day.¡±


    ¡°See ya.¡±


    ¡°Yep, I¡¯m logging out. I¡¯m done for the day.¡±


    Cysten turned and looked at him, frowning. ¡°Logging out?¡±


    Yapo was already heading around the bend. ¡°Yep! See ya tomorrow!¡±


    Cysten gave a small laugh. ¡°Yeah, sure, I¡¯ll go log out too.¡± He shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re so funny,¡± he said to himself.


    ***


    Yapo reached his apartment an hour later after filling up his hunger and thirst bar at a nearby fast food joint. He tried to walk as quietly along the hallway as possible, but his neighbor still cussed him out as the floorboards creaked.


    Yapo shook his head and stomped the rest of the way to his door. ¡°Why do I even try?¡± he mumbled. The carpet of the hallway was nearly worn through in front of his door. He walked in and locked the door behind him. Only then did he relax.


    He cleaned himself up, brushed his teeth and took care of a few chores around his apartment.


    He turned the TV on to a news channel out of habit and let it run in the background while he did chores around his apartment.


    The newscasters talked about the controversy surrounding L.I.F.E. recorders. The topic of the day was a study done by a group of scientists on how Heads Up Displays projected into one¡¯s vision affected a person¡¯s perception of reality. The study showed that those who used the technology to keep track of their eating, drinking and learning status were more likely to lose their grasp of reality.


    Hunger and thirst status bars, especially life experience bars were all there to help promote healthy living. However, the scientists disagreed that it helped the mental stability of users.


    Yapo didn¡¯t hear a word of it as he plugged his L.I.F.E recorder into its charger and proceeded to begin washing dishes.


    It was already late when Yapo turned on his favorite television show and sat on the edge of his bed.


    The character he¡¯d made in this world had a robotic arm and leg. While they were useful for his work, they had drawbacks. By rote, as he watched the television he took off his robotic leg, then the harness that cushioned what remained of his thigh. He massaged the muscles and tissue, making sure blood was getting to all parts. Then, he cleaned his leg of all the grime it had collected during the day.


    By the time he was done cleaning his arm it was time for bed.


    He sat on the edge of his bed looking at the floor for some time. Suddenly, he roused himself and lay back on his bed. He took a slim helmet with a cord attached to it from his nightstand and put it on his head. ¡°Time to log out,¡± he whispered. He closed his eyes.


    A light lit up words upon the helmet.


    URBA-SCAPE

 Grave Digger: Part 2

    The evergreens above his head creak with a coating of ice. Their branches rattle against each other. The gray of morning has come.


    He wakes, stiff as frost. He stirs and snow falls off him. The fire is only embers from the night. A wisp of smoke trails into the air.


    With clumsy-cold fingers he stokes the fire back to life. He warms himself, then takes a drink of water, careful not to bruise the remaining flowers. He tucks the water skin into his cloak, near his heart to keep the water from freezing and the flower petals soft.


    Morning lights the sky into a dull gray. He lingers by the fire, the only warmth for many miles around.


    Jarl fled the ruins of his city


    He took the wealth he pillaged from the dead


    He loads the donkey with his plunder and only then begins to leave. He pushes himself through the thicket and travels the forested valley floor.


    He sweats as he pushes his way through snow drifts. He pauses and rests, careful not to work too much. The trees block any breeze that would otherwise reach him.


    His warmth reminds him of his top cloak. Without it he would have frozen, yet he is warm now. The woman who lent it to him, is she warm? Or is the cold gripping her heart in its stony fist?


    He left his family¡¯s rubble-buried bones


    Their bodies found no peace upon burning pyres


    Half the day passes before he climbs out of the valley into the Slow Highlands. The still form of a giant¡¯s skeleton faces away from him, midstride. It faces the way he is going.


    Gentle mountains ring a frozen lake. The pine trees give the only green the land grows. The lake mirrors the sky. White and slate grays. Its smooth surface is like the work of giants, not of nature.


    He looks behind him, before him and to the sides. There is only the slate grey of sky blowing from a sliver of blue on the horizon. The air is calm even in the open. The shortest way back is across the lake; a thin separation between life and death. If winds don¡¯t freeze him, the waters will.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.He escaped that day of disaster


    But another pursued him, slowly overtook him


    His hand presses gently over his heart where the flowers are. The frigid air bites at his chapped hands. He feels the roughness of her cloak under his hand. A small breeze comes and goes, making him shiver.


    He sets off across the frozen lake.


    The giant is stopped mid-stride, as if time itself became its enemy.


    The landscape passes slowly by. The day passes by. The lake does not. The man and donkey walk over its expanse yet never reach its end. The giant¡¯s still form stays upon their left.


    A daze falls upon the man. His body feels like lead. The lake is an endless horizon.


    The sun sets a cold pink-red, rimmed by purple-tinged gray clouds.


    Still he walks, his mind as blank as the slate boards below and above him.


    The curse followed him


    It corrupted the paths and the wealth he carried


    A breeze picks up. The clouds set with the sun. The sky¡¯s chill gray is replaced with a pale blue moon and cold stars.


    The glaze over his eyes clears and he blinks. He looks about him as if just waking.


    The patterns of ice, snow and rock glow the same as the surface of the moon. The shadows of the trees are as deep as the sky¡¯s black voids.


    He frowns at the world around him. He is still crossing the lake. The sky is dark when it should be light.


    A wolf howls far behind him. The donkey jerks on his rope, nervous.


    He turns, slowly, as his danger dawns upon him. There, far across the lake, black shapes moving.


    His flight was slowed


    He heard his enemy¡¯s horns and knew his end


    He runs. The donkey senses the fear and runs ahead of him, pulling him along. He slips and falls, catches himself with the donkey¡¯s rope and pulls himself back up.


    Another howl, closer. The donkey veers towards the trees on the shore.


    The thumps of hooves and feet echoes in the lake like drums. The ice groans.


    Howls. Scratching claws close behind.

 Grave Digger: Part 2 of 2

    Grave Digger: Part 2: Part 2


    By: J. Elias Epp


    Illustration By: Bjarke Pedersen


    (I don¡¯t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)


    The shore is near. He grabs at the bouncing bundle on the donkey¡¯s back frantically. He pulls free the pickaxe.


    He did not face them with fire or sword


    In the distance he saw his savior


    A wolf snarls just behind him. He nearly falls as it jumps on his back. His cloak keeps the wolf¡¯s fangs from tearing out his throat. Sliding, he twists and flings the wolf to the ground.


    In one motion he brings the pick down. The wolf yelps and breaths its last.


    A wolf jumps at the donkey¡¯s back. The donkey kicks both hind legs into its body. The wolf flies through the air and lands with a thump.


    The remaining five wolves keep their distance, snarling and baring their fangs. He raises his pick.


    Cracks spread in the ice below them. Their sound is piercing and deep. The ice is thinner by the shore.


    He takes a careful step back. The donkey keeps close. The wolves keep pace in a crouch.


    He hailed the last champion of his people


    The last and greatest to survive


    A wolf leaps.


    He swings the pick and misses, embedding the point in the ice. Cracks burst out from the impact. The wolf bites his arm.


    He yells and lets go of the pick.


    Three wolves jump upon the donkey. It bucks and thrashes them off. Its hooves pound the ice.


    The last wolf runs at him and he kicks at it. He slips and falls. The wolf biting his arm lets go and scrambles out from under him.


    The ice breaks under the donkey. It keeps its front hooves upon the ice. A wolf falls into the widening pool and scratches its claws against the sides.


    The enemies chased close behind him


    The champion answered not


    The pack of gold upon the donkey¡¯s back begins to slide off.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He pulls the pick free and swings it in an arc around him. The wolves back off.


    Two of the wolves scramble out of the water and shake themselves off.


    He turns and takes a few steps towards the donkey. The sound of claws behind him betray the wolves¡¯ intention.


    He spins and takes another in the side. It yelps over and over as it retreats into the forest.


    Loud cracking sounds beneath his feet. He quickly falls prone.


    The wolf attacks. He kicks it.


    More cracking beneath him.


    The wolves¡¯ ears perk up. They back away from him.


    He offered gold, jewels and many riches


    The champion stood still and silent


    He scrambles on all fours and leaps for the donkey. The ice breaks beneath him. He falls into freezing waters.


    His hands and feet go numb. He resurfaces and sputters.


    He swims to the donkey. The donkey still clings to the side. The gold is pulling it down.


    With numb hands he opens a sack and pulls out gold. He flings it on top the ice.


    The donkey falls off the side and begins to sink.


    He goes with it. The dark waters close above their heads.


    With the light of the moon through the water, he finds the tie in the rope. He pulls on it hard. The rope comes free. The gold sacks fall into the depths.


    He threw the riches to the ground


    His first enemy overtook him


    He and the donkey swim to the surface.


    He gasps when he reaches the surface.


    He hauls himself up onto the ice. He shivers uncontrollably.


    The donkey gains foothold and climbs back up. It shakes itself off and trembles.


    He forces himself to stand. He rubs himself and staggers towards the forest. He fumbles in his pocket for flint and steel.


    He stumbles up the bank to the first tree. The donkey follows after.


    The wolves begin to gather again.


    He strikes the tender to the dry pine needles beneath the tree.


    Growls behind him.


    He strikes again. The flint falls from his numb hands.


    His enemies struck him where he stood


    They held no mercy for him


    He picks up the flint again. Again he strikes the steel to the flint. Sparks light upon the needles.


    A wolf draws too near. The donkey kicks, slips and falls. The wolf limps away.


    The other wolves are hungry. They approach. He turns to face them.


    A tongue of flame lights the night. The fire gives the wolves pause.


    It grows larger. The wolves growl.


    The fire licks up a branch and sets it ablaze. The wolves back slowly away.


    He stands as near the fire as he can. His whole frame trembles. He can barely feel the heat.


    The wolves keep their distance as the fire grows larger and engulfs the tree.


    He regains feeling in his hands, a painful tingling. He pulls off his clothes and sets them aside to dry. The fire dries his skin.

 Ara-Era Caskiri: Part 1

    Ara-Era Caskiri


    By: J. Elias Epp


    Illustration: Owned by Producers of Final Fantasy


    (I don¡¯t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)


    The lights of the city of Caskiri glowed faintly in the early dawn through the cloudy mists of the Arnaw waterfall. The houses of Caskiri were hewed from the very stone of the cliff and only their windows could be seen on the outside. On the inside, the doors to the houses opened up into a large water-carved cave with a stream flowing down the middle of its elegantly long and curving passage through the mountain and exited some miles away in a waterfall of its own. This waterfall did not reach the ground but dissipated into mist and clouds.


    The end to the Arnaw waterfall could not be seen as it stretched away into the horizon and fell with a greater roar than thunder to the sea miles below. Though Caskiri was a mile away from the falls the rumble of the water could still be felt in the stone and its dull throbbing sound burbled down the underground river cave. The lowering line of dawn caught the first dark eyes of the village¡¯s face and it began to wake. Closer to the falls the dawn revealed steep terracing where the cliff¡¯s sheer face gave way to sloping ground before sharply returning to its downward plunge. The mists from the waterfall constantly poured down on this terracing and on the plants that grew there. Small trees grew on the terracing with large leaves that formed a thick canopy. Beneath the shelter of the trees grew delicate blue grasses whose heads resembled fluffy clouds and the stocks resembled the green swathes of land below a blue sky. In the gaps between the trees were nestled large-leaved bushes with lush blue gold fruits ensconced in leafy cradles soaking all the moisture they could from the constantly falling rain of water. On some of the trees unharvested brilliant purple flowers could still be seen, their vibrant deep color in stark contrast with the leaves and grey mists around them.


    Away from the terraces and waterfall something stirred in the opening of a cave by the village, caught by the first rays of the sun. A youth strode into the light at the mouth of the cave and looked out upon the world still dark far below him. He let the wind tease his hair and the sun warm his face. Another grand day. The whistle and blowing of the wind buffeted him and seemed to harmonize with the deep throbbing beneath his boots from the waterfall. He was going to enjoy staying dry and warm before another day of soaking wet had to pass yet again. The last of the Sorethyst flowers had to be harvested and processed before the week was out or they would lose their pristine value. Well, it wouldn¡¯t be too hard if they didn¡¯t experience any setbacks.


    Something rustled behind him and he smiled; time to give his dearest friend a shocking wake up call. He hadn¡¯t had one for a few weeks and another was in order. Kern Veda smiled as he stepped off the ledge and fell. Behind him he felt the sharp awakening and panic of his friend Mostyn and heard the first sounds of frantic clawings of talons on stone before the sound of the wind quickly grew to a deafening roar. Even through the sound of the wind he could still feel the dull deep throb of the waterfall.


    He quickly righted himself and plunged headfirst, guiding himself with his arms and legs to dodge what trees and fauna had found grip on the cliff. He twirled left, then right, and left again. The thrilling rush of falling and the cliff whipping by only feet away only heighted his feeling of being chased and being the chaser at the same time as he closed in on the dawn¡¯s light as it slipped down the cliff¡¯s face. He could see the lights of another cliff-side village pass by his left and caught a glimpse of someone taking flight.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The edge of light was in sight now, so close he felt he could reach out and touch it. Suddenly, behind him he heard the sound of wind rushing over wings and talons. He dodged and twirled to his left just as claws snatched where he had just been. He splayed his arms and legs and watched as Mostyn whisked by with wings folded against his side and outstretched claws already being tucked back against his body. Mostyn snapped his wings open and slowed trying to catch Kern on his back. Kern could nearly reach the line of sun where the darkness still lingered. Kern tried dodging and succeeded in avoiding a collision with Mostyn¡¯s wing and thought he was home free when Mostyn deftly grabbed Kern by sharply turning on his side and snatching at him with his claws. Kern reached out his hand and nearly broke the line of light on the rock with his own shadow. Kern¡¯s vision whirled then straightened as Mostyn slowed and started pumping his wings to fly into the Blue¡¯s updraft that would take them back up so they could start their day¡¯s work.


    Mostyn whuffed smugly. ¡°You won¡¯t be so smug when I finally beat you one day!¡± Kern said trying to shift in his uncomfortable position in Mostyn¡¯s clutches.


    Mostyn simply laughably warbled in his throat as Kern chuckled. Mostyn was gripping him on the verge of being squeezed. Kern grunted, ¡°could you let up? I can barely breathe!¡± Mostyn responded by swinging Kern back and forth beneath him. Kern laughed and was about to start playfully beating on Mostyn¡¯s claws when he felt Mostyn¡¯s heartbeat pulsing rapidly. Mostyn was not only squeezing Kern with his claws but was also squeezing him against his leathery body and Kern could easily feel his pulse.


    Kern quieted down and looked up at his friend. Was that a hint of worry that he felt under the playfulness? Kern felt a slight itching pain on his side and he looked down at himself. Mostyn¡¯s talons had nicked him when he was grabbed. Mostyn was always very careful whenever they wrestled or roughhoused and Kern didn¡¯t remember a time that he had been nicked. So, Mostyn hadn¡¯t grabbed at him playfully? But Kern hadn¡¯t even come close to hitting the ground that was still thousands of feet away. But it was no mistake, Mostyn had been truly worried for him. The realization came to Kern and he slumped in Mostyn¡¯s clutches ashamedly.


    Both kept quiet as they ascended and finally came to a rest in the cave that served as Mostyn¡¯s stable. Kern dismounted and started mounting Mostyn¡¯s saddle. He cast a questioning look at the dragon and Mostyn responded with sensations of trees and darkness and pain from running into something in the dark. Now Kern understood. There were trees that grew out from the cliff. It would be foolish to try a stunt that Kern did every now and then without the ability to see what was coming, especially when he was falling at the speeds he was.


    He walked over and reassured the still quivering Mostyn by hugging him and telling him he was sorry. After this Mostyn seemed to calm down and forgive him and Kern went right to work saddling him up and getting his own gear together. Kern¡¯s apparel were leather boots strapped tight, leather britches strapped tight over the tops of the boots, a jerkin strapped tight over the top of the britches, a leather jacket with a tight, high collar and tight sleeves, leather gauntlets tied tight over the sleeves of the jacket, and a leather helmet of sorts with earmuffs, a wide brim and a large back flap. A shadow brushed over the cave opening, then shortly after another. Everyone else was already heading off to finish the harvest.


    Mostyn came over to Kern and nuzzled him. Kern smiled and petted him then took both his hands and gently pried Mostyn¡¯s mouth open and looked at his teeth. Still healthy. Mostyn pulled away and made sounds as if he were trying to hack something out of his throat.


    ¡°Oh come on! My hands are clean!¡±

 Ara-Era Caskiri: Part 2

    Mostyn vigorously shook his head and if a dragon could spit, which they can¡¯t, Mostyn would have.  Instead Mostyn only succeeded in spitting his tongue out making Kern chuckle.


    Kern went to the small stream of water that constantly ran through his room and wetted his hands before going back over to Mostyn and rubbing them on Motyn¡¯s chin and nose.  A slight oil rubbed off onto Kern¡¯s hands making them smell like air and water.  ¡°Now its your turn¡± Kern said and Mostyn rolled onto his belly as Kern got a rough cloth and quickly cleaned Mostyn¡¯s claws.  Just as he was finishing the last one he surprised Mostyn by tickling him.  Mostyn bucked involuntarily but Kern held on as Mostyn rolled back and forth making what Kern took for a dragon¡¯s laugh.


    Kern jumped off and started finishing putting on his gloves and other gear.  Behind him Mostyn shook himself and went to lay down ready to be saddled.


    After Kern had gathered his things and secured them tightly in the saddle bags he saddled Mostyn and they started off into the air once again.


    In front and behind Kern as he made his way towards the falls were the townspeople on their dragons flying in the same direction he was.  Its sound grew louder and louder and Kern put cotton in his ears and tied his ear muffed helmet on so the deafening roar wouldn¡¯t hurt his ears.  He also cinched on his goggles for later when things would get really gritty.  The sounds of the wind and callings of the many birds swooping through the air in the early morning became muffled and distant but he could still feel the dull throb of the waterfall.


    The waterfall was closer now and even though he was some ways out he was already getting pelted by the mists.  A few of the workers had already turned aside to the terraces but Kern and most of the others continued flying directly towards the waterfall.


    As they flew closer and closer the mist turned into a sprinkle, which turned into rain and soon it was a downpour.


    ¡°Well, here we go¡± Kern heard the feeling from Mostyn.  There, just barely seen through the downpour could be seen islands of green with churning white waters all around them.  The light of the sun was muted because of the mists but it was just enough for a few special plants to grow under the constant torrential rain.  The plants that grew on the cliffs to the sides of the waterfall were more delicate and were watered by the mists and light rains that came off the waterfall but these other plants were an entirely different matter.  Day and night from the moment of their birth they were subjected to a virtual flood and unending weight of water from the waterfall.  Their light was choked by the same waters that attempted to drown them yet still they thrived.


    Kern landed on one of the islands barely able to stand the noise of falling water even with his ears plugged and covered.  He could feel the noise beat at his body and shake the bottom of his feet as he slid off of Mostyn¡¯s back and onto the landing platform above the terraced island descending down in the direction of the sun.  Kern could only see a few meters and the first row of grasses on the terrace.  Despite the downpour the grass blades stood straight up and their iridescent leaves glimmered despite the low amount of light.


    First thing Kern climbed down the back of the terrace¡¯s stone wall and checked how the structure was doing.  The same iridescent grasses poked out of the cracks and gaps in the stone and when Kern got to the bottom he found the great stones parting the tumultuous waves still intact.  Those stones were vital.  They kept all of the dirt terracing from being washed away.  This island wasn¡¯t like the others.  It was man-made and had to be built with massive stones to keep it from being swept away by the strong current.  It had been built long before Kern¡¯s time and before the times of the oldest descendants they knew of.  The stones were made of Waterstone and were so large it was a wonder how they came to be moved.  All of the other islands had been hewed out of already existing islands of rock and so were well rooted.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Behind and above him he couldn¡¯t see, but he could feel Mostyn intently leaning over the edge of the back of the terrace watching his every move.


    After Kern had made sure there were no failures in the structure he returned to the crops and checked on them.  There were only skinny widths of stone to stand on so he had to be careful not to fall off.  The terraces were very steep so the grasses could get full amounts of sunlight without shading each other out.  Kern gently climbed himself back up the narrow stairs and rested beneath Mostyn¡¯s wing.  The pounding waters and noise had already taken their toll on him and he was exhausted.  His days¡¯ work was not over.


    He grunted and lifted himself up onto Mostyn¡¯s saddle as Mostyn jumped off the back side of the terrace into the water.  The current tugged at Kern¡¯s legs but he held tight as Mostyn¡¯s eel-like tail beat furiously and his webbed feet worked hard to overcome the current.  Mostyn bobbed up and down with the waves and Kern got sucked under with him a few times but they would always come out on top.  Each time Kern could feel Mostyn become a little worried and feel Mostyn¡¯s shoulders hunch as if to protect Kern.  Kern would reassuringly pat Mostyn when they came back above the water and Mostyn would loosen up.  Soon it was too torrential for reassurances and all Kern could do was hope he had tied himself in the saddle well enough.  The waves kicked them around like a leaf on the wind and Kern had to use every ounce of will not to gulp in water when they were sucked under for longer than usual.  It seemed like forever and the weight of the falling water beat harder and harder each time they would come up for air until it felt like liquid stone was constantly falling on him when it suddenly all let up.


    Kern felt Mostyn¡¯s discomfort and he quickly released his death grip around Mostyn¡¯s neck.  Mostyn chortled amusedly as Kern lay on Mostyn¡¯s back exhausted and breathing deeply.  ¡°I don¡¯t have gills like you do buddy,¡± Kern said between taking gulps of breath.


    Kern gathered himself and sat up.  They were drifting on what looked like a lake with a wall of water to their back.  Mostyn was almost playfully bobbing with the waves as he paddled to the shore close at hand making a high pitched gurgle in his throat at the top of each wave.


    What shielded them from the waterfall were massive Lariah trees whose upper branches spread far out from their heavy trunks and supported large, thick leaves that created an impenetrable canopy.  In the areas where there were gaps in the canopy were powerful falls that fell through the gap and created rivers that flowed down the hillsides and through the massive roots of the trees.  The Lariah¡¯s leaves softly glowed green since it was summer and gave light into what would otherwise be darkness.  The leaves of vines and undergrowth also glowed in varied colors but their fruits and flowers did not, preferring to hide behind the thick leaves of the bushes and vines.


    As they drew closer to the shore, the deafening sound of the waterfall subsided until it was only a gentle throb in the air around them.  Kern thankfully took off his helmet and unplugged his ears.


    Kern could see some of the workers harvesting in the undergrowth while others trimmed and harvested select branches from the Lariah for their wood, perhaps the hardest, heaviest wood in all the world.


    #waterfall #city #trees #dragon #water #story #art #original #character #prompt #exploration #worldbuilding #fantasy #experiment #openeppic #jeliasepp

 Ara-Era Caskiri: Part 3

    He waved to some of the workers who all had their dragons close by helping them out, whether by carting loads of fruit or lumber or chopping through branches with their thick claws or delicately rooting out flowers and roots.


    ¡°You ready buddy?¡± Kern asked Mostyn. Mostyn snorted an affirmative and powered himself out of the water and into the air. They lazily flew through the wide gaps between the trunks of trees and hanging vines. The Lariah didn¡¯t have branches below the canopy so there were only wide open spaces between the canopy far above and the undergrowth below. Here and there, there would be a young Lariah trying desperately to grow upwards or a powerful torrent of water breaking through the trees. Under the torrents were often young Lariah that broke the torrent¡¯s fall and scattered its waters.


    It wasn¡¯t long before they came to a city walled in by tall wooden timbers and sprawling amongst the trunks of the Lariah trees. He landed at the center of the town and let Mostyn go to frolic and play with the other dragons that were there as he himself went towards an all-stone building. ¡°Don¡¯t wreck anything¡± Kern felt towards Mostyn.


    ¡°Nor you!¡± Mostyn replied gleefully.


    Kern stepped into the building still dripping and was greeted by an older man at a desk.


    ¡°Kern, what news do you bring from Caskiri?¡± the man said only glancing up before returning his eyes to the papers out in front of him. The desk was lit by a bonsai Lariah and there were other men and women working at desks and talking amongst each other. This was the place where most of the produce from the falls found itself. Caskiri was currently the capital of Ago-Vlora, the Kingdom of Thunder and also the first city to be created by the falls.


    ¡°Well Kezun, I am afraid to report that Ara-Era is pushing its demand for more produce this year and they aren¡¯t letting up like last year. They will have their share or things could possibly get ugly.¡± Kern said solemnly.


    ¡°But they won¡¯t pay as much as Tacamo, Gwyan or the other countries! We are already doing them a favor by selling them our goods at the prices we are!¡± Kezun exploded banging his desk. ¡°Do they think we make all our produce out of thin air!¡± Kezun covered his face with his hands. ¡°I can¡¯t take another cut like this. The king is already demanding that he see some growth from last year. I won¡¯t make it if we take the cut just so Ara-Era doesn¡¯t torch us.¡±


    Kern fiddled awkwardly, ¡°I could, uh, I could, um, ah,¡± he cleared his throat, ¡°take a shipment through the Blue¡­¡±


    Kezun slid his hands off his face and looked at Kern with no hint of amusement on his face. Without responding he set himself back to his paperwork. After a few awkward moments Kern dropped his package of dispatches on the corner of Kezun¡¯s desk and walked out.


    Everyone was afraid of Ara-Era. Course, they had a right to be. But his country couldn¡¯t survive if Ara-Era continued to bully most of Ago-Vlora¡¯s luxury resources for themselves. The only reason Ago-Vlora was able to survive was its secret deals to the side to other nearby countries. Ara-Era bought their wares at immensely low prices then sold them to other countries for much higher ones. Ago-Vlora had built an air-ship dock at Caskiri and many ships had come to trade at first but that was before the Ara-Erian¡¯s caught wind and began exorbitant taxing of the ships as they passed by the top of the falls. Now only those ships willing to take the risk of trying to sneak past Ara-Era¡¯s constant watch on the updraft came by to trade. Ago-Vlora had attempted sneaking shipments past at night using their own dragons but Ara-Era had torched all who had attempted escape. Shipments trying to travel down the Arnaw were overtaken by Ara-Erian dragon sentries and either forced to pay taxes or burnt to a crisp. It didn¡¯t help that Ara-Era was still sore that Ago-Vlora had broken off from them and declared its independence. In the mind of Ara-Era¡¯s king, Ago-Vlora was still a part of Ara-Era.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.Kern sighed, and continued his walk towards the marketplace. Mostyn would be hungry after the day¡¯s travel and he had earned a snack for keeping Kern alive through The Boil once more. The other way to this city required at least an entire days journey through the caves that winded their way under the roots of the Lariah to the face of the cliff. His own stomach grumbled and he decided he had earned some steak for his own self.


    ¡°Mostyn, smell the steak.¡± Kern said. He waited a few more moments before he felt Mostyn¡¯s presence soar overhead then watched as Mostyn smelled the air, then beelined towards the marketplace and started circling over something. Kern smiled, Mostyn always knew how to find the best steak in the city.


    ¡°Come quick!¡± Mostyn felt hungrily.


    Kern started jogging and soon had to dodge his way through the hustle and bustle of the marketplace before reaching the place Mostyn was circling over. Once he had arrived Mostyn landed on the roof to wait with the other dragons for his food to come up. Meanwhile he hung himself over the edge in his own particular way with his tail wagging watching as Kern walked in. Even then Mostyn hung upside down and looked in the window to watch him.


    ¡°Sparky dragon you have there,¡± the butcher at the counter said raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°He¡¯s a lot of fun,¡± Kern admitted smiling. ¡°I had better get him a big chunk of meat too or he¡¯ll not be too much fun to deal with later!¡±


    That elicited a smile from the butcher and he ordered his apprentice to fetch some flying eel meat up to the roof. ¡°So, what brings a man like you to our humble city?¡±


    Kern shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m just a speed courier for his majesty¡¯s business.¡±


    The butcher nodded, ¡°What would like for yourself? I hear rumors that Ara-Era might try a move to take us back under its wing.¡±


    ¡°Just a steak please, I¡¯ve heard of that rumor too, for years now. What¡¯s come of it? Nothing. Its just nothing is all. People have been saying it just to scare each other.¡±


    The butcher nodded again and puckered out his bottom lip. ¡°Yes, that is so. Even if it is all smoke our country can¡¯t take our trade being ruled like this for much longer. We¡¯ll collapse and Ara-Era will be right there to pick up all of the pieces. Oh, your total will be 132 pekas.¡±¡¯


    Kern laid down the money, then an idea came to him. ¡°You know what will make Ara-Era stick their hand in their mouth where it belongs and keep it there?¡±


    The butcher smiled amusedly and leaned on his forearms. ¡°And what sir would that golden plan be?¡±


    Kern looked the man in the eyes, ¡°Why, a trade agreement with Deneloro of course!¡±

 Iron Band Tombstone

    The captain watched as the scouts departed from the hanger of the destroyer. Then his eyes looked searchingly at the towering landforms around the spaceship.


    He turned to his tactics officer, "How long will this hide the fleet?" he asked in a low voice.


    "At most? An hour," she said, "At least? Any moment."


    He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Was I wrong to blow the fleet''s cover and save that freighter? The whole fleet is in danger now."


    "Saving lives is never wrong. Putting more in danger because of it?" She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s our job to protect our citizens.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t protect them if we¡¯re wiped out.¡± The captain put his glasses back on and looked about the bridge. About half of the officers were busy. The other half sat waiting at their consoles.


    They had all seen battle before, but he knew each of their telltale signs of nervousness. A slowly tapping finger, the occasional glance backwards at him and the usually quiet Munitions Officer Sovoy was rambling and spinning off jokes constantly to anyone who would listen.


    ¡°We need a plan,¡± he whispered to his tactics officer.


    She responded in an equally low voice, ¡°we¡¯re a highly mobile fleet literally grounded upon a planet and hiding from a far superior force¡­we¡¯re fish in a barrel as soon as they figure out which barrel we¡¯re in.¡± She looked up at him from her console. Her eyes met his.


    A hint of fear and worry were creeping through her expression, but most of all, he could see it in her eyes.


    I¡¯m sorry, he thought.


    There¡¯s nothing you could do about it, her eyes responded.


    He glanced away but was drawn back to her eyes.


    I love you, they said.


    I love you too.


    ¡°Captain, we have an update on enemy movement from our scouts,¡± Information Officer Erik said.


    He jerked back to his own console. ¡°Go ahead and be quick.¡±


    Sovoy instantly quieted.


    A hologram popped up in the middle of the bridge showing the planet they were on in the middle. Triangles of bright blue were their ships clustered together upon the planet¡¯s surface. Triangles of red showed the updated enemy positions. They were spread out amongst the solar system with small groups clustered at each planet, including the one they were on.


    ¡°One battlecruiser, two destroyers and a frigate in orbit on the other side, sir,¡± Erik continued, ¡°estimated time until their scouts run across us is about ten minutes. This planet seems to be their favorite.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Geography report.¡±


    The hologram zoomed in on the planet with the blue triangles. Land forms were highlighted.


    Analyst Officer Udmun spoke up, ¡°Thick and stiff crust, large landforms due to tectonic upheaval, additional mountains like the ones we¡¯re hiding in are here, chasms of more than ten miles deep are here with caverns and caves splitting off, inland sea here, underground sea accessible via chasms. All ships are submersible.¡±


    ¡°Move the fleet into the chasm as quickly as possible, we need to buy more time. Keep our heads down and unseen.¡±


    The landscape rotated around them as the pilot turned them about. Captain Cadriel caught sight of their light carrier passing by an opening in the landforms.


    He rubbed his eyes, they had already been playing cat and mouse for fourteen hours now. He needed some concrete safety for his men and himself. Something that would allow everyone some rest.


    The enemy had been making sweeps of the planet for hours. They were narrowing the search down to this spot. However, if he could only pull off completely hiding the fleet, their field of search would widen considerably again.


    In the initial battle, saving the freighter had caused the loss of their light battleship at the decision of the Admiral. Also at the decision of the Admiral was for Cadriel to take over command of the fleet.


    In terms of chess, their ¡°queen,¡± the light battleship and the admiral, had been lost to allow for the rest of the fleet to escape. Their king was the light carrier. Also in terms of chess, he had to think how he could win without the queen. It could be done, it was just never as easy.


    In comparison, the enemy¡¯s ships were heavy, large, long-distance models designed for long campaigns and sieges. To take down one of their frigates would take two of Cadriel¡¯s own frigates to take it down.


    The ship had picked up speed now and the landscape whipped by. Cadriel had to grit his teeth. He was used to the emptiness of space. Flying so close to something was unnerving.


    Suddenly, the ship slowed and dropped like a rock into the shadow of a massive chasm. The bridge¡¯s red combat lights glowed in the darkness.


    Looking up, Cadriel saw the other ships drop in as well. The hologram pulled up a scan of the chasm and the caves shooting off from it.


    ¡°Get all the ships deeper, quick, and not all in one place.¡±


    If they had time, they could set up an ambush, or make their firing arcs overlap each other. Right now, they needed time and they needed to seed doubt with the enemy.


    ¡°Captain,¡±


    Cadriel turned to the Communications Officer.


    ¡°The rock of this planet blocks communications, Captain, if we split off, we¡¯ll lose contact with the fleet.¡±


    Cadriel sat back in his chair. A boon and a curse. He pointed to one of the larger cave openings. ¡°Take the fleet into there, leave a stealthed scout probe at every opening and turn in the caves.¡±


    The fleet entered the cave single-file.


    Cadriel felt caged now more than ever. He breathed in, ¡°the cave will open up into a cavern,¡± he told himself. It desperately needed to happen.


    The minutes ticked by. The enemy scouts may have already flown over the area by now.


    They flew deeper and deeper into the planet¡¯s crust.


    Cadriel found himself biting his nails. He forced himself to stop.


    Finally, after a sharp turn the tunnel opened into a large cavern. Many tunnels led off from it in all directions.


    ¡°We split off here. The light carrier and a destroyer take the largest tunnel away, the two cruisers take the next largest, the other two destroyers split off, the four frigates stay in pairs.¡± Something caught his notice as more of the cave system¡¯s map filled out from the scanners. ¡°We¡¯ll take this tunnel here, everyone go completely dark once you¡¯ve found a hiding spot, we¡¯ll communicate and update with scout probes in one hour.¡±


    Cadriel pointed at the tunnel they would be hiding in and looked at the pilot. ¡°Back us in.¡±


    The pilot squinted and a few measurements popped up on the display at various points along the tunnel¡¯s length. ¡°Sir, we¡¯ll barely fit.¡±


    Tactics Officer Dawn spoke up. ¡°Sir, that tunnel is, well, figuratively speaking, like hiding right next to an open doorway.¡±


    Cadriel nodded. ¡°Its risky for us, but also risky for the enemy. If anything comes through the door, shoot it. If it steps past the door,¡± he looked at the pilot, ¡°ram it.¡±

 Tentative Link

    Three figures trudged through an expanse of rubble from crumbled buildings and roads. The sun set to their back, coloring the landscape orange where it touched, and black in the shadows.


    The tallest of the three stopped and took his gaze off the ground. His tired old eyes searched the shadows of the sun.


    The other two stopped as well. One was a young boy, the other a girl in her upper teens. Strands of her brown hair waved lazily in the breeze. She didn¡¯t raise her eyes to look about.


    There was a deep quiet that could be felt all the way to the horizon. The tarps of empty makeshift shelters flapped in the breeze. A building softly groaned as it settled. A pebble clattered as it fell, then echoed into silence as it disappeared into the jagged maze of rubble.


    The sun sank, its last rays disappearing from the top of the hill of fallen buildings they faced towards. The sky continued to darken and the shadows deepened to an inky blackness.


    Suddenly, a blue flickering light, like the light from a welding torch, lit up a hill next to the one they faced. It cast the shadow of a ruined building in sharp relief against the hill¡¯s side.


    They couldn¡¯t see the source. The hill they faced was in the way. It flickered weakly, then stuttered brightly, casting the whole hill in front of it in a sharp silhouette. Then there was darkness.


    ¡°Eohin¡¯s Gate.¡± The tone of the old man¡¯s voice was matter-of-fact. He looked back down, he couldn¡¯t walk in the rubble with the shadows so deep.


    So, he didn¡¯t walk. He sat down.


    The other two did the same, looking at their feet.


    The concrete they sat on had rebar sticking out of it. The slabs were angled in every direction like boulders.


    The boy absently scraped his foot against them.


    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± the old man said. He rose and looked carefully in the faded light for the deepest shadow among the ruins.


    ¡°Come.¡±


    The two young ones rose and followed the man, who slowly felt his way down the slope.


    He reached the shadow and peered into it. Then carefully, very carefully and slowly while bracing himself, he lowered one leg into the darkness. His shoe scraped against concrete.


    ¡°Come.¡± He lowered himself more into the hole in the ruins, reaching out to find where the walls were.


    The girl followed next, then the boy. In the darkness they found spots where they could set their backs against to sleep the night.


    The sound of their rustling soon quieted to the occasional scuff.


    The breeze whispered quietly outside. It gusted weakly, sighing softly.


    Their eyes blinked slowly.


    The faint blue of the moon glowed softly against the white concrete.


    The old man went to sleep first. His quiet snoring became a soothing and reassuring lullaby.


    The eyes of the girl and boy grew heavy. Their breathing slowed. Within moments their weariness pulled them into sleep.


    Hours passed, the wind died down, all was quiet. A cloud passed over the moon, casting the land in its shadow.


    The wind picked up and moaned softly.


    The man¡¯s snoring stopped and his sleeping face creased in a frown.


    The wind moaned louder, closer.


    His eyes slowly opened.


    The wind softly moaned its low note and died away. Nothing could be seen in the darkness.


    The man felt his pulse beat faster.


    The wind picked up again, hissing against the bones of buildings. Its low moan started again, held, then the wind died and the moan separated itself from a far-off howl.


    A shoe scuffed against rubble in the dark. The young ones were awake.


    For a moment they all sat quietly. The howling came again, it didn¡¯t sound closer or further away.


    In the shadow, the girl stirred and pulled something from her small pack. A blue light suddenly lit her face in the dark.


    ¡°Elthia, is there anyone?¡± The old man asked. He hoped the howling would go by them like it had so many times before.


    Elthia tapped buttons on the device and the light against her face changed color and brightness a few times. She shook her head.


    Another howl from far off was carried on the wind.


    They all stilled, waiting.


    The howl died and there was silence again. For long moments they waited.


    The moon came out from behind the cloud. A shaft of light shone into their little cave.


    Elthia broke the silence. ¡°You said it connects to someone in the past. Weren¡¯t there more people then? Where are they?¡±


    ¡°There were more, not many were dying in those days.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll save me if I die.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± The old man nodded reassuringly, ¡°yes.¡± She had asked him this many times, as if it would suddenly change one day.


    ¡°Only if there is another connected to me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡±


    She shook the device.


    ¡°Elthia.¡±


    She stared at the device. Her information was displayed on its screen. Name, birth date, height, weight, blood pressure, blood type, ethnicity, medical history, onset of lethal illness date¡­


    ¡°If no one from the past can help you, Eohin¡¯s Gate will bring you to them.¡±


    The howl came, closer, more distinct. Deep it started, with the faint reverberations of rapid clicking, then it rose slightly in pitch and the clicking changed into a high-pitched creaking.


    They sat there in shock.


    The wind whispered. There was no sound. No sound by which to know a location. Something was in the darkness.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Elthia slowly put the device away. Then sat stock-still.


    The whites of the boy¡¯s wide eyes reflected the glow of the moon.


    The old man¡¯s eyes gazed at the floor with an almost disinterested look. Within his chest his heart beat hard against his ribs.


    Again, the howl filled the silence, closer.


    Elthia tried to keep her breathing normal.


    The boy¡¯s jaw clenched and his fist grasped the end of a piece of rebar with white knuckles.


    The howl came again. It sounded like it was atop the very hill of rubble they were in. The clicking and the creaking beneath the howl echoed within the rubble. It sounded like the very animal itself was scurrying about within the crevices of the concrete and all around their little cave.


    Something clattered down the slope. A piece of rubble.


    Elthia clutched her bag tightly to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the opening of the cave.


    More rubble clattered. Something could be heard shuffling up above them. It clambered over the ruins. Something sharp scraped against stone.


    Tears dripped down the boy¡¯s face.


    The thing was joined by others and together they meandered down the slope.


    Closer they came, bodies brushing on concrete. They panted, the sound growing louder towards the way they faced.


    A howl. So loud it sounded like one of them had jumped right into the cave with them.


    Scraping claws and thumps right outside the cave as the beast jumped from one slab to the next. The panting sound turned away, becoming quiet, then suddenly louder and closer.


    A shadow moved over the mouth of the cave.


    The man¡¯s wide eyes bored into the floor of the cave.


    Elthia¡¯s heart beat so fast it hurt. She clenched her teeth like a cage for the scream in her throat.


    The boy¡¯s face whitened, his body rigid, then he slumped, unconscious from the fright.


    The beast¡¯s shadow blocked out the light of the moon. Seconds passed. Suddenly, there was moonlight again.


    Claws scraped and grew more distant. The thumping of beasts running down the slope came and passed.


    All was silent again.


    Elthia didn¡¯t remember how many minutes, or hours passed before the last howl could be heard. She fell into sleep.


    Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow I¡¯ll be healed at Eohin¡¯s Gate and leave this world.


    ***


    Aeson sat in the waiting room bouncing his foot. He crossed his arms over his chest, left over right. His mother was on his left reading a magazine, his father was on his right with a stare that looked past the wall across from him.


    Aeson switched his arms, right over left. The room was quiet, save for the occasional telephone ring or the receptionist and her talking. Old men and women sat in chairs waiting for their own appointments.


    Unlike many of the waiting rooms that Aeson was accustomed to, this one didn¡¯t have any toys for children.


    Not that he needed them. He was seventeen. It¡¯s just, there were no children playing. Even sick children playing with toys made a lighthearted atmosphere. This place¡­well, it had a feeling of somber resignation.


    He shifted in his seat and winced at the pain in his side. Despite it being mid-afternoon he felt like he needed to sleep.


    ¡°Honey.¡±


    Aeson looked at his mother out of the corner of his eye.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get something to eat after this, okay? Whatever you want.¡±


    He gave a nod and followed his father¡¯s gaze into the wall. She didn¡¯t have to act like she already knew the results. Eating out was usually reserved for celebrations. Times like birthdays or graduations or even having friends over. He wasn¡¯t likely to have many more of those celebrations. Eating out after doctor appointments were always meant to soften pain.


    The door to the doctor¡¯s office opened and Aeson held his breath.


    A male nurse walked out and stopped just outside the door.


    ¡°Aeson Nash?¡±


    Aeson let out a breath and stood.


    His parents stood with him and his father squeezed his shoulder.


    The nurse led them through the offices which always seemed like a maze to Aeson. Instead of going into one of the examination rooms, they were led to Doctor Winter¡¯s office. Aeson had already spent enough time in those rooms and being scanned by machines.


    As they walked down the hall, they passed by a man and woman about in their fifties. Aeson noticed they had red eyes and crestfallen faces.


    The nurse opened the door and ushered them inside.


    There was a desk and three chairs in front of it. The room was larger than their living room. A spry man stood from behind the desk and motioned them to the chairs.


    ¡°Please, sit.¡±


    Doctor Winter had a light voice and just as light a frame. He was skinny beneath his white lab coat, though not unhealthy.


    To Aeson, the man looked like a tree without leaves draped in snow. The man¡¯s appearance seemed appropriate for his name.


    Despite his light appearance, the man¡¯s voice held a tremor of gravity that made Aeson¡¯s heart sink. His mother had started tearing up. He knew she was holding out hope.


    Together, they sat down in front of Winter¡¯s desk.


    Winter opened a thick file folder and started flipping through it. He glanced up. ¡°Mr. and Mrs. Nash, how have you two been holding up this past week?¡±


    Aeson¡¯s father cleared his throat. ¡°Um good, we¡¯ve been holding up just fine.¡±


    Dr. Winter nodded and glanced up at Aeson¡¯s mother.


    She forced a smile with watery eyes. ¡°Felton, please, just tell us the results.¡±


    Dr. Winter nodded solemnly. ¡°I understand ma¡¯am, I just need to refresh myself on the particulars.¡±


    He found a few printouts and pictures and looked them over. He glanced up at Aeson. ¡°And how about you? How are you doing?¡±


    Aeson swallowed. ¡°I, uh, I bumped my shoulder against the doorframe two days ago. It didn¡¯t hurt but I have a large bruise now.¡±


    Winter nodded with serious eyes focused on Aeson. ¡°So, you¡¯re bruising easily then.¡± His eyes glanced at Aeson¡¯s parents. He flipped through a couple more papers. ¡°Yes, I believe the scans have shown us what is going on definitively.¡± He finished reading a piece of paper and set it down. He looked up and cusped his left hand in his right.


    ¡°Aeson, I don¡¯t mean to cause you any alarm by saying this, but you have cancer.¡±


    His mother sucked in a breath and clasped a hand over her mouth as tears ran down her face.


    His father put an arm around Aeson and squeezed Aeson¡¯s shoulder.


    Aeson just said, ¡°oh.¡±


    Winter let out a breath. ¡°There are options, of course. There is radiation therapy, surgery¡­¡±


    Cancer. Aeson thought. What can I do about this? How long do I have? What about college? Could I do treatments and college at the same time? Will I have time to become a car engineer? ¡°How much time do I have?¡±


    Winter stopped in the middle of answering a question about treatments his mom had asked. He cleared his throat. ¡°At this time, the best guess is¡­two years.¡± He bowed his head as if a weight had been added to it.


    ¡°Of course, this can be lengthened with treatments.¡±


    His father opened his mouth to ask a question.


    Winter held up his hand. ¡°I should also tell you that this cancer isn¡¯t a slow progression like many others. It has only started occurring in younger individuals over the past decade, but it has a tendency to rapidly accelerate in the second stage. Sometimes, a person¡¯s estimation is shortened from five years to a week.¡±


    ¡°Then, how¡­¡± his father stammered.


    ¡°There is something we can give him for that. It¡¯s a medical device that will give him a second chance. It uses Syndmell technology, so we may have to try out a few before we get one to work on him.¡±


    Aeson¡¯s father seemed to gain energy from this. ¡°That tech is unreliable anymore. How can we trust it? The quantum entanglement across the space-time geography ¨C¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯ve programmed for the technology, Mr. Nash, but the way the quantum mechanics work with this device means it either works or it doesn¡¯t. If it successfully activates, then it will continue to operate until it is destroyed. It doesn¡¯t use Syndmell tech in the way the spaceplanes used to. There won¡¯t be a repeat of Wandon. Regardless, it¡¯ll give your son more time.¡± His severity quieted Aeson¡¯s father. He turned to Aeson. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get you fitted with a S.Q.E.D. shall we?¡±


    Dr. Winter walked over to a side door in his office. The door looked heavy and had a flat black panel to one side of it. The door itself had no handle.


    Dr. Winter placed his hand on the black panel and there was a click. He pushed against the door with his shoulder and the door swung inward to a narrow and long closet space. Along one side were shelves, along the other were what looked like safe-deposit boxes.


    He swiped his finger on one and it popped open. He took out a roundish device about the size of Aeson¡¯s hand with outstretched fingers.


    He waved Aeson over and Aeson obediently stood and walked over. He found his legs were a little weak, but he was able to walk.


    Aeson stepped into the closet.


    ¡°Hold this one.¡±


    Aeson held the device. A progress bar lit up the screen with a ¡°connecting¡± message displayed on it. They waited for a couple more moments, then the screen displayed an error message.


    Deftly, Dr. Winter took the device from Aeson and put it away, taking out another just as quickly.


    Aeson held this one too.


    ¡°Aeson.¡±


    Aeson took his eyes off the S.Q.E.D.¡¯s progress bar and looked at Dr. Winter.


    The doctor¡¯s eyes were soft as they looked into Aeson¡¯s eyes. ¡°What are you planning to do with your life?¡±


    Aeson felt his eyes grow hot, but he couldn¡¯t stop a tear from escaping. He looked down at the device. ¡°I was going to go to college.¡±


    ¡°What were you going to go for?¡± The doctor gently prodded.


    ¡°I was,¡± Aeson breathed in, ¡°I was going to become a car engineer.¡±


    ¡°Aeson, look up.¡±


    Aeson looked up. Dr. Winter took the device from his hand and handed him another.


    ¡°You can live your life in many ways from here on. Some despair, others party until they can¡¯t anymore, others continue like they always have as if nothing has happened. Some want to live in a way that will create a positive memory in those they leave behind.¡±


    Aeson held the device awkwardly and thought. He do I want to live the rest of my life? He thought. He mused over the weighty question. He sniffled. The device wasn¡¯t connecting. He would die one day, with this device or not. He looked up.


    ¡°I want to design a car.¡±


    The device in his hand chimed and the screen flashed green.

 Gladiator

    Kian reached through the bars and clasped his mother¡¯s hand. The coliseum rumbled with the cheers of the people.


    ¡°Rew la thar! Rew la thar!¡±


    Kian breathed in and his eyes unfocused.


    A hand squeezed his. He turned his head towards the person and heard a voice.


    Footsteps from down the hall.


    ¡°Rew la thar! Rew la thar! Rew ¨C ¡± The crowd gives a tremendous roar.


    The iron grates were before Kian, an empty cell behind him. One person in the hall clasping his hand, ones unseen approaching. The rumble and roar of the earth and air. Whisper of breath and thud of heart. Screams trembling in his chest.


    The crowd quieted to a low murmur.


    Footsteps smacked against the stone suddenly close.


    Kian¡¯s knees trembled and he shuddered. He clenched his teeth.


    Four guards with a captain leading appeared.


    Kian¡¯s breath caught.


    They walked straight.


    Please go by.


    The captain suddenly turned on his heel sharply in front of Kian¡¯s cell door.


    Kian felt his soul surge within him, he felt it explode and a mighty roar well up in his throat. His soul crashed against the inside of his body and he grasped an iron bar with one hand and pulled.


    The four guards stood ready on either side of the door as the captain unlocked it.


    Kian strained with all his might. His whole body tensed and his mouth gaped in a silent yell. His soul roared like an inferno within him.


    The bar didn¡¯t budge.


    The door clacked open and the four guards stepped in.


    Kian¡¯s mother wept bitterly and wrung Kian¡¯s hand in hers.


    The mighty ocean of Kian¡¯s soul crashed upon the shore of Kian¡¯s weak body. It could not be released.


    One guard wrested his hand out his mother¡¯s. Then, with the help of the other three guards they pulled his grasp off the bars.


    They tied his hands with rope and bound his ankles together.


    Then, the ocean in Kian leaked out. His eyes unfocused and tears streamed down his face.


    Two guards drug him by the shoulders down the hall.


    One guard stayed by his mother. A wail echoed against the walls. A guard walked ahead of Kian. The captain led the way. The hiss of his feet over stone. Empty stares from full cells.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The guards drag him to an armory. They fit a leather vest over him, then a metal chest plate. Holes are punctured in both. Each breath tightens the vest around him. He lifts his tied hands and pulls on the chest plate at the neck.


    His teeth clench and his neck muscles tighten.


    The guards curse under their breaths and peel his hands off.


    Kian breathes in and out, in and out. He clenches his hands into tight fists and curls his toes.


    The shout of an announcer echoes faintly.


    The guards hold him at the captain¡¯s command and one of them cuts his bonds.


    The guards back off and level spears at him. The captain motions to a shield and sword on a table before Kian.


    ¡°Pick them up.¡±


    Kian looks in that direction. There¡¯s a table. Things are on the table. Guards on either side. Stone walls. Racks of weapons. Shelves of gear. Heavy wood door. Coliseum above, below, around him. City around the coliseum. Woods around the city. Land under the woods. Ocean around the land. Air above the ocean. Air around him right now. He breathes it in.


    A butt of a spear smacks his back. He stumbles forward. He catches himself on the table. Two objects are on it.


    He picks one up, its round. He slides it on his arm. It¡¯s heavy.


    He picks the other up. Heavy and unbalanced. Sharp.


    Another butt from a spear behind him makes him stumble forward.


    The crowd suddenly cheers and begins chanting.


    ¡°Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam!¡±


    Kian steps forward. His arms hang loose at his sides. The sword sways.


    Steps echo against the tight hallway. Steps behind him. The passage sways around him.


    The passage widens into a room. Guards lounge near the walls. Eyes watch Kian. A large grate portcullis is opposite Kian with sun shining through it.


    The butt of a spear makes him stumble towards it.


    ¡°Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam!¡±


    Wood, iron and light in front of him. Whisper of breath. Tightening vest. Sweat on leather handle. Cool stone. Drafts of hot-sandy air.


    The portcullis clangs and is drawn upward.


    Drums.


    ¡°Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam! Paw Rudam!¡±


    Kian takes one step over the threshold and stands still. There¡¯s sandy ground. Chiseled stone walls. Faces watching all the way to the sky. Roof open to the heavens. Banners of blue and black.


    Bare-chested man with black helm. Waiting on sand. Leather skirt armor.


    A rod strikes his back and he stumbles forward into the light.


    The crowd falls silent.


    A breath of wind shifts the sand.


    The helmed man stands motionless.


    ¡°Yag Segen Ha!¡± A man yells.


    The cry is picked up by others and it grows to a chant.


    ¡°Yag Segen Ha! Yag Segen Ha! Yag Segen Ha!¡±


    The black-helmed man looks up and to the side. He¡¯s hairy. His muscles bulge against his skin. He nods and bows. He turns towards Kian and rolls his shoulders.


    The portcullis slams shut behind Kian. He takes a step back.


    ¡°Yag Segen Ha! Yag Segen Ha!¡± The crowd yells angrily.


    Kian steps back again to the gate. A rod jabs him away. He steps to the side along the stone wall.


    The black helm slowly follows him. A dust devil kicks up behind the man.


    Kian moves against the wall.


    The man¡¯s body turns and walks forward.


    Kian freezes.


    The man picks up his pace into a charge.


    Sand kicks up under the man¡¯s feet. Sweat is slicked on his skin. Dust powders his legs.


    The sword.


    Kian jabs it at the man¡¯s chest. The man twists to the side of the blade, then brings his palm around and slams it into Kian¡¯s chest.


    The blow knocks the sword from Kian¡¯s grasp. His body folds under the blow, then strikes the wall. His head flops back and hits the wall.


    Blackness frames Kian¡¯s vision. Stars swim where they should be staying still. His heart beats in the back of his head. His chest is empty of air. The air is over the ocean.


    A fist clenches his arm and starts dragging him into the middle of the sand.


    Kian¡¯s mouth gapes. He drools as he tries to suck in air.


    The grip on him shifts. A hand grabs a fist of his hair.


    Kian takes in the smallest breath. Sand scrapes against his dented chest plate.


    The man pulls Kian¡¯s head up. Kian gasps in air.


    From the black helm echoes a loud voice.


    A memory flashes across Kian¡¯s mind. Sun-dappled grass. Golden wheat field under cloud-speckled bright blue sky. Cool shade. Green forest. House. Sweat, shovel and spade. Cool, clear stream. Wind in dancing sister¡¯s hair. Proud brother relaxing near. Parents walking up the path.


    A quiet upon all the hills around.


    Kian¡¯s eyes focus. A cloud-speckled bright blue sky is above him.

 A Drink in Qembu

    ¡°Sir Alwin, here is your assignment. If you choose not to accept, you will be immediately terminated with two weeks¡¯ pay and the option to stay at a safe house for up to three months at the expense of the company. Luck of the draw to you, stay safe.¡±


    With that, Gamal bowed slightly from behind the steel desk and walked away, disappearing into the rows of safe deposit boxes behind him. Before he disappeared, he gave one glance back at Alwin.


    Nathan Alwin blinked. It wasn¡¯t unusual for Gamal to walk away after delivering an assignment, however, it was unusual for him to glance back. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. By instinct, he glanced around him.


    He was about two feet inside the door to a large vault. A simple stainless steel desk was in front of him. The usual armored briefcase was on the table with the assignment directives folded in paper on top.


    Behind the desk, there were rows of safe deposit boxes of varying sizes and heavy locked doors in the back.


    He ran his hand over his short-cut Mohawk. Something was up. Gamal prepared the assignments, he knew what was in the cases, if they had anything in them at all, and who they went to. If there were any specific directions for a courier, he prepared those as well.


    Alwin regarded the armored case. Once he picked it up, the assignment was his responsibility. He could still back away and find a job as a courier at another company. It wasn¡¯t uncommon in this line of work. Couriers were known to be as jumpy as rabbits and often had as many superstitions as rabbits had children.


    Per policy, he could look at the special instructions and still leave the assignment. It was widely regarded as unlucky if a courier did so, however. Special instructions often had private information regarding the handling of the package.


    Alwin stuffed one hand in his pinstripe dress pants and clutched the collar of the armored vest beneath his suit jacket with his other hand. There wasn¡¯t another courier service on this planet that paid as well as this one. Jacob still hadn¡¯t paid the gambling ring back in full. His mother would beg for money from the loan sharks again if he didn¡¯t take care of her bills.


    Alwin had showed his family they could make something of themselves. Jacob had quit gambling, or, at least he had for a full three years now. Mother was working part-time as her health allowed, but still needed help because of father¡¯s debts.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Alwin did the calculations in his head for costs of moving, time with pay, time taken to move, time between paychecks, time to get hired with a new job¡­


    Budget, could he reduce his budget? There was his car, he could sell it and use public transportation at a new job. So, that eliminated that cost. He could get a cheaper apartment in the suburbs, he could live off rice and meat, yes, yes, it might work. It would save¡­


    He took a breath and sighed.


    He stared at the armored case and paper, as if he could will it to go away. Minutes passed, Gamal didn¡¯t return.


    Bah! He was making a mountain out of a molehill. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to look at the special instructions. He reached out and picked them up. He unfolded the paper and read the one line of text:


    A little drink while in Qembu next time we meet.


    It rang a small bell in his head. He didn¡¯t like it. The bell felt too personal, too close to home.


    ¡°A drink in Qembu¡± was a common saying. Qembu was where every kind of entertainment and pleasure could be found, drinking being the least among them. It was like a country saying it was sending its soldiers to target practice when it was in the middle of a world war. A drink in Qembu meant going to the greatest party all the worlds of the known universe had to offer.


    He¡¯d often dreamt of going to Qembu as a kid. He and his friend, Gerald, had often made plans to go there if they had ever become wealthy enough to afford the space fare¡­


    A little drink while in Qembu next time we meet.


    Alwin slowly folded up the paper and threw it on top of the suitcase. After three seconds, it disintegrated into a puff of smoke.


    This is just a molehill, he thought. But he knew better. Using such a common term of phrase was bad for a code phrase, except this one was slightly altered from the common phrase of ¡°A drink in Qembu next time we meet.¡± He and Gerald had often joked about their little change of phrasing and what the words spelled out.


    A Little Drink While In Quembu Next¡­. ALDWIQN. It was imperfect, but the whole phrase roughly translated to ¡°ALWIN, time we meet.¡±


    Author¡¯s Note: I wrote this exercise from an Instagram exercise prompt I posted. It had a good hook and premise to it so I attempted writing the beginning of a story for it! Sadly, I¡¯ve run out of time tonight to finish it. However, as a writer I think it is important to keep producing new content, or potential for new content even while working on a longer work like a book. It keeps things fresh and sometimes, it challenges me.  Writing a story hook for a picture in a paragraph or two in under thirty minutes (I write them on my break at work) is challenging enough. Trying to weave a story and character from a paragraph or two works my brain about just as much.


    If you¡¯re interested in my Instagram posts, you can look me up as jeliasepp


    Thank you all for your support!


    #writing #scifi #read #write #character #original #courier #case #attachecase #armor #mission #story #backstory #cliffhanger #writer #exercise #jeliasepp #openeppic

 Waking

    The world spun, sky, ground, sky, ground, sky and suddenly stopped somewhere in between.


    Riko felt the blood-soaked ground under his cheek and the thudding of hooves and boots. He could smell musky leather and sweat. The voices of men and women shouted orders. There was movement at the corners of his vision as soldiers ran here and there. His eyes were looking at his hand still holding the spear shaft with the top cleaved off.


    He felt so very cold, but his body refused to shiver. A ringing was growing louder in his ears.


    Lightning crackled and the sky flickered with its light. The resounding boom echoed across the sky.


    Darkness crept in like a fog at the edges of his vision until there was only darkness. He couldn¡¯t sense anything except a soft pressure from all sides. It wasn¡¯t cold, it wasn¡¯t warm. Vague impressions of things passed through his mind. Things that could have been, memories of what was, disappointments and joys of what could have been. It reminded him of the times when he dreamed at night and could direct how things turned out. If he tried too hard, he¡¯d wake, as if being too conscious was a crime in the dream world worthy of exile.


    He suddenly felt like he was flying, though the darkness still shrouded him. He dreamt of mountains and hills he passed over like a bird, their passing nothing more than the wisp of a thought.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A dull light grew around him. He felt himself lying on his back and softness gently touched his sides. He opened his eyes. An expanse of grey met what felt like his first viewing of the world. He turned his head to the side. The softness touching him were flower petals of every color. They were heaped around him and under him.


    Fog shrouded what looked to be a field. Others like him were there, they had not woken yet. They lay on stone blocks as he did with flowers about them. There was silence.


    He rose, moving slowly as if through water. His head felt as cloudy as the fog around him. He sat up after what seemed like minutes.


    A shadow ran by. Riko looked that way. Another shadow ran by, a man. Others followed him silently, running and with faces intent on their task.


    One stopped by him, breathing hard. ¡°Welcome to the afterlife.¡± He looked in the direction the others were running. ¡°Can you stand?¡±


    Riko turned his head slowly where the others were running and blinked. There was a flash deep in the clouds, then a muffled roll of thunder.


    The man smacked his leg. ¡°Alright, time to go.¡±


    Riko slowly turned towards him. The man sighed. ¡°If you don¡¯t want your body in the over world to be turned into a soldier for the Sae, you¡¯ll come along quickly and avoid being captured.¡±


    One of the men who had run past before returned carrying a body slung across his shoulder. ¡°Hurry it up.¡± He said as he passed.


    The man by Riko nodded. ¡°No more time.¡± He slung Riko over his shoulder.


    Riko spied the broken spear shaft among the flower petals. Something urged him to grab it and carry it with him.


    The man turned and ran as he could with Riko bouncing against him.


    Riko watched as they passed many rows of others like himself. Men lying on stone and flowers, asleep in the fog with their weapons at their sides. The war with the Sae had followed them even in death.

 Everywhere is the Same

    He eyed the massive glowing conduit warily. It was an engineering marvel, however, he didn¡¯t like how it also supplied the heat and light for the colony ship. Having an anti-matter reaction pumped to the engine above your head was disconcerting. Plus, it felt like it was just hanging in the sky with nothing supporting it. Without notice it could come crashing down.


    Of course, ¡®down¡¯ and ¡®up¡¯ were subjective terms around here. He could see the city above him through the clouds swirling around the conduit. Living on the inside of a giant cylinder was more like living underground in a big cavern.


    The ship¡¯s managers had created parks and other entertainment venues to help with the plague of depression. A massive refitting had enabled the conduit to glow a warmer color like the sun back home. Lakes, rivers, untamed forests and many other features had been added to assuage that strange and ungraspable unique need of the human condition.


    But the facts stayed the same. They lived in a metal tube floating through an icy black abyss with a controlled explosion hanging over their heads.


    Like all the others, he had to accept that fact and ignore it. Try to. Honestly, what could he do about those kinds of problems? Strange how people could easily demand big problems to be fixed. Then they¡¯d turn around and let everything crumble around themselves in their own lives.


    He shifted as he was lying on the park bench and his rear came into contact with the chill of metal. He shifted back. He could swear that the outward heaters weren¡¯t working as well as they did a few years back.


    He pulled his ratty coat closer about himself and checked to make sure the strap of his bag was securely in the crook of his arm. He could see the skyscrapers rising to the edges of his vision.


    An aircar streaked past. Likely some millionaire threatening the safety of the entire ship by flying too fast. One had crashed and punched a hole in the hull.


    Rich people got away with anything it seemed.


    The captain hadn¡¯t done much better. That botched slingshot around the dormant black hole had really worked out for them. A state of emergency had to be called for the various systems critically damaged by the unforeseen gamma burst.


    Hadn¡¯t astronomers been studying that black hole for a hundred years now? How had they messed that up?


    A whistle blew. He rolled and caught his feet under him, slinging his bag to his shoulder and running. He took off across the turf towards some trees. Too late he saw the gold and grey uniform of a navyman headed from that way too.


    He turned sharply and his feet slipped up and he fell to his side. He scrambled up.


    ¡°Bastards!¡± He shouted over his shoulder.


    One dived for his legs.


    He spun and dodged and ran again. There was a sharp crack, something like a fist smacked him in the back. Electricity surged through him and every muscle in his back clenched painfully.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    He fell, rigid.


    Footsteps ran up from behind.


    ¡°Wait!¡± a voice said, ¡°it¡¯s still activated.¡±


    He suddenly fell limp and groaned.


    Two heavy weights pressed down on him and strong arms wrested his hands to his back. Cuffs were clasped on him in moments.


    He bucked but it did little to free him. ¡°Bastards! You¡¯re no better than press gangs you pricks!¡±


    They hauled him to his feet, one on either side of him. He blew his hair out of his eyes and spat out the dirt in his mouth.


    An officer walked around and stood in front of him with a tablet.


    He looked at the man¡¯s name tag. ¡°Mr. Blanchard, you really think I¡¯m a criminal? I ain¡¯t done nothing.¡±


    ¡°That is your crime.¡± The officer said blandly. He took a small scanner off the tablet and passed it to one of the navymen holding him.


    The navyman pressed it to his wrist, right under the cuffs.


    The tablet¡¯s light shone a little more brightly on the officer¡¯s face and he tapped it a few times.


    The navyman handed the scanner back.


    ¡°Mr. umm, Sidade Kasten?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Kass-thim, Kasthem. It¡¯s not Sidade, either, it¡¯s - you know what? Just call me Sid.¡±


    Officer Blanchard looked at Sid. ¡°Why are you in handcuffs today?¡±


    Sid shrugged and rolled his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t know offalcer, please tell me.¡±


    Blanchard sighed and slid his finger across the screen. ¡°The ship¡¯s captain reserves every right and authority to-¡±


    ¡°Screw over his passengers?¡±


    ¡°-command any action to preserve the greater welfare. All persons aboard the craft he commands fall under his-¡±


    ¡°Sack of bullcrap.¡±


    ¡°-complete sovereignty as long as a critical threat to their safety is present. After damage to critical systems were assessed, it was determined the situation needed an all-hands-on-deck approach.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so screwed.¡±


    ¡°All non-essential personnel for the basic sustainment of life would be reassigned to support repair and maintenance efforts.¡±


    An aircar landed nearby and the reinforced back doors were opened.


    ¡°Sid.¡±


    Sid turned his head back to the officer.


    ¡°We¡¯re sinking. Slowly, but we¡¯re sinking.¡±


    Sid shrugged and gave the officer his best ¡®I don¡¯t give two flying craps¡¯ look. ¡°Don¡¯t pull me down with you. Put me in one of those coma-coffins. At least I can sleep for a thousand years until I get sucked into a sun. Trust me, I won¡¯t feel a thing.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in deep space. The escape pods are for when we¡¯re by civilized areas or a habitable planet. You knew what you were getting into when you got on this ship.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Sid tried jerking out of the navyman¡¯s grasp, ¡°I didn¡¯t come for any of this! You think I wanted to stay in a ghost town back home? After everyone else left? My friends? My family?!¡± Sid glared at Blanchard.


    The officer nodded to the aircar and the two navymen pushed Sid into the back of it and closed the doors.


    The aircar lifted off smoothly and accelerated so softly Sid didn¡¯t even notice.


    Sid stood up with some difficulty with his hands still behind his back. He looked out the window at the city center. The streets between the buildings were mostly barren. Only a few people walked here and there down the once-busy thoroughfares.


    He¡¯d heard the stories of the work-gangs helping maintain the life of the dying ship. It was hard labor. There wasn¡¯t enough machines to do all the work. Some, like his family were able to find good jobs. But he? He¡¯d been an artist. He didn¡¯t have any good transferrable mechanical or computer skills or knowledge. Guys like him were sent to do the ¡°easy¡± jobs.


    He¡¯d been among those who had fought against being pressed into the work gangs. The city was fine. Everything was working how it should. Where were the blaring alarms and flashing lights? Was the hull cracking apart? Was the atmosphere venting?


    No, nothing was happening. The city was fine. The ship was fine. Nothing needed to be done that was drastic.


    The aircar sped down the giant tube. Sid eyed the passing landscape. Everything was normal until they flew over the edge of the metropolis. Entire city blocks of buildings were being dismantled and their materials being shipped by boat, train, car and pulled by people to the underground.


    Something stilled inside Sid as he watched the massive operations at work. Just what was happening?

 Fruits of Revenge

    Abner puffed on his cigar, watching the city slowly pass by beneath the blimp. The sun had nearly set, casting deep shadows in the city where gas lanterns had started turning on. Doves fluttered about the gantry of the craft.


    He checked the positions of the blimps floating nearby. It wasn¡¯t optimal. One would cross overhead close enough for people to make out faces. Those blimps had the look of cargo carriers. They used to be water vessels, but had been retrofitted to be slung beneath a blimp¡¯s gas bag. It was a poor merchant¡¯s way of competing with the Jain.


    Abner took note of how difficult it was to make out the faces of those aboard the craft when they were facing away from the sun or in shadow. He could use that to his advantage.


    The sound of a metal spoon clinking on china from around the corner caught his ear.


    ¡°You¡¯re excused,¡± came the quiet voice of a man, ¡°I¡¯ll enjoy the rest of my tea alone.¡±


    Abner heard the soft rustle of a woman bowing, then walking away and down the steps into the blimp¡¯s hold. She closed the door behind her.


    Abner eyed the cargo blimp as it passed above the wake of the blimp he was on. When he was sure their attention wouldn¡¯t be on his craft, he stepped around the corner and drew his revolver from its holster.


    ¡°Who are ¨C¡±


    Abner¡¯s face was stern, but the touch of a smile tickled the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°Arron Badger,¡± Abner said, ¡°mind if I join you for tea?¡± He stepped so his shadow was covering the man¡¯s face.


    Badger was quiet for a moment, then he removed his bowler hat and carefully set it on the table. ¡°Abner Cook, why have you snuck aboard my ship?¡±


    ¡°I think you know.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t the faintest clue.¡± Badger sat back in his chair and took a sip of tea.


    The wind blew a little stronger and Abner¡¯s cigar glowed with embers for a moment.


    Badger set the tea cut back down on the table. ¡°Really now, I¡¯ve heard you like to make displays like this Mr. Cook, but this is taking it too far. If someone saw you, you¡¯d be arrested for pointing that gun at me.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a show, Mr. Badger. You see, I¡¯m going to collect your bounty.¡±


    Badger looked at him quizzically.


    ¡°Perhaps I should be clearer? I¡¯m here to collect the bounty of saboteur and spy Dresden Black. Your face and the eyepatch you wear match his descriptions.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Badger shook his head and smiled. ¡°Saboteur? Spy? That¡¯s why you¡¯ve been hunting me down? Tsk, that was years ago. The country that issued that bounty is long gone. Are you really that hard up for cash? I suppose if you¡¯re working for the rebels this would make sense.¡± He looked closer at Abner, then shrugged. ¡°What of your friends? Don¡¯t you care about them? If I die, they die too.¡±


    Abner took a drag on his cigar, it had almost burned to a stub. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve known I was on your trail for a while. Then again, I would be disappointed if you hadn¡¯t.¡±


    Badger pointed at Abner. ¡°You seem like a man of ideals, so let me tell you something about my true identity.¡± He took out a cigar and lit it, then gave it a few good puffs. ¡°You see, I have negotiations and deals with a lot of people. I get this person to do this thing over here, so this person over here will do this. A lot of powerful people depend on me. Killing me would break the peace. Why, in a couple of years there might be a civil war because of it.¡±


    Badger smiled and looked out over the city. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want that for this people, would you? The Musah would come with their armies and crush us.¡±


    Abner nodded. ¡°I¡¯m well aware. You see, I was born in Riffelm.¡±


    Badger¡¯s smile faded.


    It was Abner¡¯s turn to smile. ¡°So, you see, a bounty for your head still exists. The reward is becoming a hero to my people for serving revenge upon the creator of their pain.¡± Abner gave Badger a level gaze. ¡°You didn¡¯t simply betray your closest ally, you aided the Musah and attacked us with them. You can threaten me all you want. It doesn¡¯t change the fact I actually want a civil war to break out here. So your country can experience the same pain ours did.¡±


    Badger¡¯s face had gone pale white.


    Abner raised his gun. ¡°Congratulations, you saved your country for a total of ten years.¡±


    ***


    Abner thought back to that day as he sat in the fifth floor of an abandoned factory. His back was to one of the outside walls. He could feel his sword awkwardly pushing into his back. He wondered why he continued to carry it around. It had been fashioned to sever through the metal of the Musah¡¯s machines, but he¡¯d found few chances to do so anymore.


    It was dark outside. Not even the moon shone from behind the thick clouds of smoke from the burning homes.


    He¡¯d been hearing the heavy thumps lingering around the area for a while now. They started coming closer again. He could gauge how close the seven-story walkers were by how much the broken glass bounced upon the floor.


    A ray of light flashed through the window near him as a searchlight passed over. That would be the walker making its rounds.


    Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.


    Abner shifted uncomfortably as the walker neared. Soon, the footsteps were so heavy they were shaking the rafters.


    The walker walked directly by the factory and suddenly stopped.


    Abner¡¯s breath caught.


    The waxing and waning glow of a searchlight could be seen through the window. For a moment, the bright light could be seen shining up through every chink in the floorboards. The dust that had been kicked up was illuminated.


    Then suddenly, the light shone fully into the window right next to Abner¡¯s head. It lingered, then passed on by.


    It felt like an hour passed before the machine moved on, its heavy footfalls receding into the distance.


    Abner breathed out in relief.


    Distant explosions echoed in the empty room.


    He let himself relax for a moment.


    When was the last time he had seen grass? Or trees that hadn¡¯t been burnt to a crisp?


    He sat in silence for a few moments.


    His father had married and started raising children by this time in his life.


    Yet, Abner knew that trying to get out of this warzone would be almost more difficult than surviving until the end of the war. If there was an end.

 On the Road to Shabik

    ¡°Riddle me this, what has two legs and can¡¯t walk, two arms but can¡¯t lift, eyes but cannot see, ears but cannot hear, a nose but cannot smell, a mouth but cannot taste?¡±


    ¡°What? Huh, let me think.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°A corpse?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°A human corpse.¡±


    ¡°I think you implied that in your last one.¡±


    ¡°Fine, a monkey corpse.¡±


    ¡°Nope, and before you try the next one, it isn¡¯t any kind of corpse.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°A statue of a man.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, huh, you¡¯re wrong.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? It fits the riddle perfectly.¡±


    ¡°Well, you see, no, actually I can¡¯t tell you yet, it¡¯d spoil it. You¡¯ll understand when you solve it.¡±


    ¡°Sigh, fine, give me the next part.¡±


    ¡°Riddle me the same as the last. What makes noise but no one listens, lives in a field but is famous, cannot harm you but people fear it?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Wow, I¡¯m having a hard time with this one. I¡¯m guessing its alive then? So that¡¯s why it couldn¡¯t be a statue. Wait, what was that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have laughed.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m stupid, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Okay, fine. Most people get it when it comes to the second part. It pretty much gives it away.¡±


    ¡°Really? Are you sure? Cuz, I¡¯m really stumped right now. I¡¯m starting to think you¡¯re just rambling off some gunk just to get me going.¡±


    ¡°No, really, I¡¯ve used this riddle a lot of times, you can actually solve it.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh, whatever, give me the last part already.¡±


    ¡°Riddle me the same as the last. What is held as a captive by the dead but cannot die, does not eat, does not drink, yet begs for food and water?¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Seriously? You still haven¡¯t thought of it?¡±


    ¡°Sush. You know what, I¡¯m sorry. Is this something I would even know of?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Everyone knows it! That¡¯s how riddles work! Well, sometimes.¡±


    ¡°See! You¡¯re tricking me.¡±


    ¡°But this one you know, you¡¯ve heard the stories!¡±


    ¡°Stories?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the ones about ¨C ¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    ¡°¡­¡±


    ¡°Raju-Alithama?¡±


    ¡°Pfft, I gave you a fourth hint and you finally get it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it, give me a break. I¡¯ve only heard about it in stories. Nothing else! I was trying to think of something like, like, I don¡¯t know. Something else.¡±


    ¡°Fine, that does it, we¡¯re going to go see Raju-Alithama. You live this close and you¡¯ve never even taken the road to Shabik?¡±


    ¡°My business has been mostly with the cities in the river delta.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Rawala save us, come on! Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Wait, right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, before you have to go back to your business tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s already noon!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll stay at an Inn, it¡¯ll be on me, okay? Come on, we never do anything crazy anymore anyway.¡±


    ***


    Hem walked with the crowd on the dry and dusty desert road. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows. It was one of the hottest parts of the day, but he could feel it starting to cool down.


    He coughed on the dust and spit to the side. He took out his water skin and took a swig. His friend, Shab, motioned to him and he passed the skin to him once he was done.


    They began to crest a shallow rise as they were walking.


    Shab handed the skin back to Hem. ¡°Okay, just do what I do, okay? And everyone else for that matter.¡±


    Hem was about to ask what that was, but then he felt a shift in the attitudes of the people in front of him. The talking had died down to whispers and no one looked to either side.


    Hem looked over to Shab and Shab was looking straight ahead too.


    Shab glanced at Hem and slightly jerked his head forward.


    Hem looked straight ahead too.


    The crested the rise and Hem could hear someone yelling off to the side of the road.


    ¡°Maya dushaya re beh bapo racen! Maya dushaya re beh bapo racen!¡±


    In his peripheral, Hem could see there was something like a stone in the sand off to the side of the road by about a hundred feet or so. Raju-Alithama.


    ¡°Tuchak! Tuchak nakim palatra coontog! Tuchak! Tuchak nakim palatra coontog!¡±


    There was only the sound of shuffling feet now and the voice of a man¡¯s yelling.


    Hem had heard the stories of what Raju-Alithama looked like and how he acted, but he had an almost irresistible urge to take a peek for himself.


    Shab nudged him. Hem could see him shake his head out of the corner of his eye.


    People like Hem usually didn¡¯t take this road if they could help it. The very making of the road had been cursed. Many paths were tried to avoid Raju-Alithama, but they always ran into the territories of phoenix, or were plagued by wolves and sand dragons.


    It seemed like the only place the animals didn¡¯t go was where Raju-Alithama was. Even then, the road had to be built close to him because the sand dragons made the ground unstable everywhere else.


    Raju-Alithama continued calling out to the crowd as Shab and Hem passed by. It called out in languages that Hem hadn¡¯t ever heard uttered, and he wondered if it was calling a curse upon them all.


    It¡¯s voice sounded muffled, like it was trying to shout over a wall.


    Hem¡¯s feet were already tired and he wondered how much longer it would be until they reached the Inn for the night.


    ¡°Help! Help me get free from here!¡±


    Hem¡¯s head naturally jerked in the direction of the voice. Too late he realized what he¡¯d done.


    His eyes looked straight towards the source of cries for help, to Raju-Alithama. In that moment, he saw that many of the descriptions of it were true, but many were not as well.


    The sun basked the left side of what at first appeared to be a statue of five mighty and strong men. Their body positions were strange, but he could make out that the men were all outfitted for war. They had light armor on, daggers at their belts, and some had shields. He didn¡¯t see any swords on them though.


    The statue stood out against the lighter color of the sand, and what stood out against the grey of the stone was the tanned form of a man trapped within the statue.


    One of the stone statues had its hands firmly clasped about the trapped man¡¯s eyes. Another clasped its hands around the man¡¯s nose and mouth. Yet another had its hands firmly planted over the man¡¯s ears. The strongest looking of the statues had its arms and legs binding the trapped man¡¯s legs and the last bound his arms.


    Each statue¡¯s muscles showed in sharp relief, as if each man were straining at their utmost to accomplish their own task.


    Shab cursed beside him.


    Something pulled Hem to walk off the road and towards Raju-Alithama. As he got closer, he could hear heavy breathing.


    ¡°You! You would help me?! You can understand?!¡± The man¡¯s muscles strained against his prison.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Hem, that¡¯s your name, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Please, get me out of here, please.¡±


    Hem felt numb as he looked around himself. He looked back at Raju-Alithama. ¡°I don¡¯t have a hammer to break the stone.¡±


    ¡°Then bread! Or water! I¡¯ll take either of those! Please.¡±


    Hem walked to one side of the statue, then the other. ¡°How am I supposed to put it in your mouth?¡±


    ¡°Then just stay and talk awhile. Please.¡±


    Hem looked at what he believed to be a man if he didn¡¯t know otherwise. He could see a man¡¯s frantic eyes, a man¡¯s chin and neck, arms and hands, feet, even some belly and ribs and the torn and burned remnants of once-white clothes.


    ¡°Tell me, why are you in the statue?¡±


    The man, or whatever it was, had seemed to calm down, but at the mention of this he started breathing hard again. ¡°Why? Not how? I can tell you both! Just tell him. I sinned! I¡¯m a criminal! I fought against your ancestors and lost! I lost! See?! They even gave their lives so they could torture me! They couldn¡¯t kill me so they trapped me! Haahahah! Do you know how long it¡¯s been? I haven¡¯t! I counted, then I missed a day and I¡¯ve lost all measure! He didn¡¯t ask me that though.¡±


    The man suddenly blinked rapidly and his eyes looked around himself as if finding himself there for the first time. He noticed Hem and his body made a jerking movement as if trying to turn towards him.


    The eyes rolled in exasperation. ¡°Come around to the front so I can stop straining to look at you.¡±


    Hem blinked and found that he felt like he had just stepped out of a trance. He glanced back to where Shab was waiting, not looking his direction.


    ¡°Psst! Hey! Look back over here.¡±


    Hem hesitated, then looked back at the man.


    ¡°Okay, I know you¡¯re just some normal guy, so I¡¯m going to make it easy for you. Just find someone who knows where Ros Hyen is, okay? He might go by another name, but if you start dropping that one, he might just show up, okay? Ros Hyen, got it? Ros Hyen. He can help me, okay? That, or a Musai, but they won¡¯t help for other reasons. Some crap about not breaking statues of people in their religion. Ros Hyen, okay? Just remember that. Ros Hyen, Ros Hyen, Ros Hyen, hahahahaaha! You better remember it! Please!¡±


    Hem quickly walked away back to his friend who took ahold of his arm and didn¡¯t let go until they were over the next rise.


    Thus, when Hem met The Stranger with a Thousand Stories, he asked him if he knew who Ros Hyen was out of curiosity.

 Storm Shephard

    Billboards flickered in the shadow of morning''s light. The sun''s rays warmed her even as a chill wind blew her robe and scarf with a soft and constant embrace.


    The clouds rolled by in a leisurely and calm manner. Their master was close by, there were no worries. She was unnoticed and simply watching, simply knowing the world.


    Her eagle landed upon her arm. He had returned from chasing those few troublesome clouds who had wandered.


    The people who built their homes upon her flock hadn''t hurt them. They didn''t know how. She thought their homes ugly, but otherwise didn''t mind them. Even now she stood on the thin pinnacle of one of their constructs with the tips of her toes.


    She angled her wide brimmed straw hat to shadow her face from the rising sun as it peeked around the corners of the clouds.


    Golds, reds, oranges, and pinks suffused themselves in the depths of their cottony fluff. Bright whites stood out on the edges. Muted greys, blues and purples receded from the morning in the shadows.


    She drew her wood flute from beneath her robe. She wetted her lips and the carefully whittled mouthpiece. The wind played the softest of notes into the air as it brushed over the finger holes. The flute carried the sound far and wide to the edges of the flock. It was so soft it was closer to the sound of a stirring soul.


    Almost as if it couldn¡¯t wait to hear her tune it gently pushed against her a little more firmly, like a cate rubbing itself against her leg. It playfully flicked the turquoise ribbons tied to flute¡¯s end.


    She took a deep breath of fresh morning air smelling of stars and sun. Her fingers held the flute lightly as she began her haunting song.


    It began soft, like the greys of the morning sun upon the night sky. The notes swelled and faded to the edge of hearing. The barest tickling of the ear caught its sound as the slow notes were joyfully carried by the wind.


    The clouds puffed happily, billowing up higher into the sky in a dance only they and the shepherd knew.


    Gently, gently her notes grew. Less were they heard and more were they felt like the throb of a lonely heart.


    Birds lifted from their perches and took off in flocks, flying amongst the blocky black and grey buildings basked pink by the sunrise. The birds swirled and twirled to the shepherd¡¯s tune.


    Anxious and thrilled for more, the wind spread her song to the deepest parts of the clouds and city. It swelled its volume and rang its notes upon the balcony wind chimes. Like some ungraspable epiphany it tugged at the minds of men and women in those lingering moments the waking and dreaming touch each other.


    Her song rose on the air into sonorous notes, filling empty air with a tangible feeling. Those laying quietly in their beds felt its stirring trills and opened their eyes.


    The first sounds of their waking were heard. The song ended, petering off into a deep quiet. She stepped off her perch and the shepherd sank into the white of the clouds.


    They caught her and she floated through the air with them. The muted noises of people starting their work reached her.


    Engines rattled to life, people¡¯s voices echoed against metal walls, footsteps banged on stairs and dogs barked.


    In the fog she let herself be carried by a street lined up with shops and stalls. Slowly she and her eagle floated past, no more than an indistinct shadow in the rolling cloud bank. She watched them start their days.


    Trays of vegetables, fruits and fish were laid out upon tables. Trucks came puttering up from the surface lands to replenish inventories.


    Food sizzled or baked in ovens, their aromas mixing in ever-changing flavors of meats and baked breads. The morning wind had died down to a breeze. It gently offered her a bit of every kind of smell that passed by in view in front of her.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Her mouth watered and she swallowed.


    A young boy and girl played about the stall of their father¡¯s shop. The father came out and patted the young girl on the head before he picked up a box from the truck¡¯s shipment. The little girl smiled gleefully and hugged his knee before scampering away again to play with her brother.


    The shepherd watched them bounce a ball back and forth. She liked the girl¡¯s hair. It was braided just like hers and the little girl¡¯s hair was blonde and pretty, not brown like her own.


    The boy couldn¡¯t resist throwing it harder and harder at the girl, enjoying seeing her try and catch it, only for it to roll away for her to run after.


    The shepherd frowned and stuck out her lower lip in disapproval.


    The wind couldn¡¯t ignore the fun, it gave little gusts, sending the ball in unexpected directions or lurches in one way or another.


    Other children came out to play hopscotch or jump rope. Some other boys played tag.


    Meanwhile, the little girl grew exasperated and threw the ball as hard as she could over her brother¡¯s head. He gave her a dirty look and chased after it. After retrieving it, instead of walking back he heaved the ball in his sister¡¯s direction as hard as he could.


    The wind gave it a few playful gusts for good measure. The ball bounced against the shop at an angle and it soared over the edge of the city and through the safety nets to disappear in the clouds.


    The shepherd¡¯s eagle dove off her shoulder.


    The little boy and girl rushed to the edge and looked over the side between the bars of the railings.


    The wind puffed their hair in annoyance at losing the object of its bit of fun.


    The boy hit his sister on the shoulder. ¡°You threw it too far! You lost our ball!¡±


    The girl¡¯s face scrunched up and tears welled up in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re the one who threw it meanie!¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Well, I¡¯m not going to play with you anymore!¡± The brother ran off to join the other boys.


    The sister plopped down and cried, tears streaming down her face.


    The shepherd¡¯s eagle landed on her shoulder and dropped a ball in her hand from its claws.


    The shepherd looked from the ball to the girl. She looked over her shoulder like someone might be watching. It was just her though, far away from her own family tending her flock by herself.


    All the parents were inside getting ready for the day. It was only children playing in the street.


    She took a tentative step forward, then stopped and drew her flute. She blew a couple trilling notes upon it and her flock gathered around her in a thick fog. She loosened a bell upon the brim of her hat and let it swing freely.


    The bell¡¯s clear, crisp sound carried far, its light chimes piercing through the foggy murk.


    She stepped forward, the clouds following her. She lightly floated over the railing with the thick fluff of her flock hiding her.


    The other children stopped when they saw the thick fog rolling in with a shadow in it. They stared in wonder.


    The shepherd paused before setting her foot upon the dirty metal of the street. She tested it with her toe before resting the rest of her foot on it. Her feet made no sound as she walked the few feet to the girl and reached her hand out of the fluff, offering the ball back to her.


    The girl stopped crying and looked up to see a smooth, fair-skinned hand holding out the ball to her. The hand was so pretty!


    She looked up through a thick fog and could see the dim-lit form of a person. She wore an orange robe and wore a large white scarf. She had a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head. A large bird stood on her shoulder and looked at her with a cocked head.


    The woman¡¯s face was soft and kind, her eyes were a sparkling blue and her rich brown hair lay over the front of her shoulder in a thick and loose braid.


    The girl wiped her nose with her sleeve and wonderingly took the ball.


    The woman smiled, her teeth as white as a cloud under sun. She pulled her scarf up over her face and stepped backwards, becoming only a shadow in the clouds.


    The fog drew back and the shadow went with them. Soon, the woman¡¯s form disappeared into the clouds as they meandered by the railing.


    The girl stared out at the passing clouds, hoping to see the beautiful young woman again. The other children quietly gathered around her, looking out into the clouds and wondering what she¡¯d been given by the Shepherd of the Sky.


    She told them of her smooth hands and beautiful hair and how she had smiled. As she was telling her story she kept looking back at the clouds as if the Shepherd would return. But, sadly, the Shepherd didn¡¯t.


    After telling her story the children excitedly ran back to their parents to tell them what they had seen.


    The little girl ran back into her house shouting excitedly that the Shepherd had given her ball back.


    Her parents smiled and patted her on the head.


    ¡°You really like those stories of the Shepherd, don¡¯t you?¡± Her mother asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re not stories! She¡¯s real!¡± The girl pouted.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± her father said, ¡°whatever you say, go on out and play now.¡±


    The girl stuck out her bottom lip and stomped out the door.


    The shepherd, watching from within the clouds, smiled.

 Tattered Mantel

    Red robed priests stood in silence behind the Executioner dressed in white and gold as he delivered his speech from the gilded platform.


    The platform was only used for the mantling of new kings. Today was no different as Byarn watched the proceedings.


    He glanced around him casually and caught sight of the guards pursuing him at the fringe of the crowd. They searched the faces in the crowd in vain.


    He turned his attention back to what was happening on the platform. The Executioner was still talking.


    ¡°We come together in this holy moment to witness a man willing to become our king. It is his greatest desire to prove himself worthy before the assembly of the people and take upon himself the mantel of his office. All bow to our worthy leader, Lars of Stahyoen.¡±


    The crowd bent themselves at the waist as a man in stocks and chains was led by two purple-garbed soldiers to the fore of the platform and turned to face the crowd. Lars wore a white tunic bordered with gold thread.


    ¡°I¡¯m goin to become yer king! Hahahaha!¡± Lars tried to turn his head around to the priests. ¡°I¡¯ll kill every last one of you freaks! Starting with you two!¡± He turned back around to the two soldiers.


    One calmly kicked the back of his knee, forcing him down onto it.


    Lars starting breathing more heavily. ¡°I¡¯m going to become a god! I¡¯ll bless all you people out there and the nobles can go to hell! Hyahaha!¡±


    One of the guards unlatched the stocks from around his neck and Lars started. The stocks were set aside and Lars¡¯ limbs began to tremble as if he had suddenly been thrust outside in the cold.


    The Executioner was mumbling a prayer now in a tongue none but royalty and the priests knew. He walked a few steps towards the red-robed priests and reverently lifted something that was draped over a star-white pillar. He turned and faced the crowd with it.


    It was a mantel a king might have worn once, only it was torn and ragged. However, it still held its rich red color and glimpses of curvaceous starlight-white designs could still be glimpsed in those places that weren¡¯t burnt or shredded. In fact, its remnant glory was still so splendid that one might wonder if its sordid state wasn¡¯t the true nature of the garment.


    That moment would pass as one realized the garment was little more than ribbons on the verge of ashes. Only one part of it remained untouched, a wide necklace made of intricately-wrought gold that formed the mantel¡¯s border around the neck. It was wide enough to easily fit over any person¡¯s head.


    The two soldiers took Lars¡¯ chains and bolted them in place to his either side.


    The Executioner raised the mantel above his head and walked to the spot directly behind Lars.


    Lars¡¯ eyes went wide with fright and he froze.


    Two red-robed priests walked forward and covered the Executioner¡¯s head with a white hood lined with leather on the inside.


    The Executioner continued speaking, but Byarn doubted even a noble could understand his muffled voice.


    Slowly, the Executioner lowered the mantel upon Lars¡¯ shoulders.


    Lars watched it as it was lowered down to him, but didn¡¯t watch it as it settled on his shoulders. His eyes were suddenly fixed upon the sky.


    The mantel settled upon his shoulders and the Executioner took one step back.


    A searing light suddenly emanated from Lars¡¯ body that nearly blinded Byarn at the same time he heard a high-pitched screech. For just a few seconds the light and the noise remained, then it suddenly dissipated and a light thump was heard as the mantel fell to the platform.


    At first, Byarn thought the sky had grown darker, but his eyes adjusted and everything returned to normal. A faint glow in the air remained for just a minute in the area where Lars had been, then that dissipated as well.


    The Executioner took off his hood and gave it to a priest who came to his side. Then, he gingerly picked up the mantel and set it back on the short pillar. Then he turned back to the crowd.


    ¡°Today you have witnessed a man thought to be worthy of the position of king. However, he was unable to bear the King¡¯s Mantel. He is unworthy! He has lied to us and to you! If there are any others who wish to claim the title of King, let them come now!¡±


    The crowd shuffled and whispered amongst itself.


    ¡°Cretins.¡± Someone whispered near Byarn. ¡°They just keep themselves in power by killing anyone who would become king.¡±


    ¡°That bloody mantel is cursed,¡± whispered another.


    ¡°He has ascended! Lars has ascended to be a great and powerful spirit!¡± Someone shouted from the front of the crowd.


    ¡°Guards!¡± The Executioner shouted.


    Guardsmen closed in on the man¡¯s position.


    ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± The man shouted. ¡°All who are taken by the light of the mantel go to live with the Endless Lord in his resting place! Do not listen to the lies of these false priests! We of the True Radiance know what they hide from all of you! Do not let them deceive you!¡± His voice became more desperate. ¡°Rise up! Throw them down and the blessings of the mantel will be made available to all! Rise up! Rise up! Ri ¨C ¡±


    Byarn presumed he¡¯d been struck down. No one moved to ¡®rise up¡¯ against the priests but this elicited a few murmurings.


    Byarn risked another glance around himself. Guardsmen were stationed on all roads leading out of the town square. He couldn¡¯t wait until the crowd dispersed, then he¡¯d be caught out in the open while all the guards closed in on him. His best chance would be to slip out with the crowd.


    Byarn let the crowd carry him along. He risked a glance forward and saw that a couple guards had positioned themselves standing on top of wagons and were looking down into the crowd as it passed.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Byarn let his gaze fall and he lowered his head just a little. If he lowered it too much he would stick out from the crowd. He kept shuffling along towards the street.


    He drew close to where the guards were searching the crowd¡¯s faces. He made himself keep breathing. He could see the guards in the corner of his eyes. Slowly, slowly, the crowd moved forward.


    Byarn was nearly abreast of the guards when he heard a loud thump of heavy boots on wood. He saw another guard get up on the wagon to his left, but he didn¡¯t look that way, so he couldn¡¯t tell who it was.


    A few seconds passed. Byarn came even with the guards, then stepped past. He breathed out in a sigh.


    ¡°You there! Turn and let me see your face!¡±


    People around him glanced towards the guard. Byarn knew that voice all too well. It was Tamas, the Captain of the Guard. Byarn felt his heart jump into his throat and pretended not to heed the man.


    ¡°Everyone!¡± Tamas bellowed, ¡°Turn towards my voice or be shot!¡±


    Byarn heard the clatter of bows and arrows being readied. More boots thumped onto the wagons and armor clanked as soldiers pushed through the crowd. The people around him stopped and turned about.


    Byarn clenched his teeth and glanced behind him. His eyes met those of Tamas who had a gloved finger pointed right at him.


    ¡°That¡¯s him!¡±


    Byarn ducked and wedged himself through the crowd right as an arrow was let loose. The arrow thudded into the chest of a man who let out a scream.


    The crowd writhed around Byarn as women screamed and some men took their chances and tried to push themselves away into the crowd.


    A few more arrows were loosed at Byarn and they missed by only inches, burying themselves in unlucky victims.


    The crowd grew more panicked and began to surge away from the guards. Suddenly, Byarn wasn¡¯t shoving through the crowd anymore, it pressed against him and carried him along. Someone alongside him fell and was trampled. Guardsmen shouted at one another.


    Another arrow whizzed by his head from above. The woman next to him cried out in pain. He looked up. A light-footed archer was atop the roof, pulling another arrow from his quiver and stringing it.


    With great difficulty, Byarn pulled his knife from his belt and up and over his head and threw it into the archer¡¯s chest.


    The archer dropped his bow and arrow and rolled down the roof and into the crowd.


    Byarn strained his head to see if there were any others, but didn¡¯t find any.


    For several blocks the crowd swept him along. When he could, he wrested himself closer to the edge of the street.


    When he neared the edge, he stopped. He could see people getting twisted and slammed against the sides of the houses from the pressure of the crowd.


    He saw a side street ahead and readied himself. It passed close and he used all of his strength to try and enter into it. The people already packed into it were too many and he could hardly get a foot in before he was swept away.


    By this time he was sweating profusely from the strain of keeping with the crowd and the heat it put off. Then there was the smell, but he was mostly used to that. People cried out in pain and fright around him. Others called out for loved ones.


    Byarn kept his wits about him and waited for the next cross street to pass. He could feel the pressure of the crowd loosening.


    The side street came close and again he wrestled with the crowd. He even pushed himself off a woman¡¯s face so he could move to the side. This time, he was able to squeeze himself into the crowd that was in the side street.


    At first, Byarn though he¡¯d made a mistake. The pressure of the crowd here was so heavy he thought he¡¯d be crushed. In fact, he heard a pop and a pained yell as someone¡¯s arm was broken.


    He had to take small breaths because his chest was getting squashed.


    After a block, the pressure suddenly became lighter and Byarn took a deep gulp of air. He let the crowd take him as he tried to rest just a little.


    The crowd started to thin quickly now and soon Byarn was able to dodge his way through the throng of exhausted and battered people.


    He traveled past the crowd to where the streets were quiet and empty. He traveled past these to where the streets were filthy, more dirt than cobblestone. He climbed into a hole that was in the rubble of an old building.


    For a few feet he has to crouch under stone slabs and rotten wood beams, but then the tunnel opened into a space dimly lit by a window and a wide crack in the ceiling.


    There was a young man sitting at a table and he looked up at Byarn¡¯s entrance.


    Byarn waved a tired hand. ¡°Galahad.¡±


    Galahad ate another spoonful of the glop that was in the bowl before him. ¡°Need a place to crash at? Those soldiers never give you any rest. You look like someone used a meat tenderizer on you.¡±


    Byarn chuckled, ¡°They¡¯re like a chatty and nagging wife, but I¡¯d take them over a wife any day.¡± He walked over to where a straw mattress was lying on the floor. ¡°Call me if any of those goons come poking around.¡±


    He lay down and only then did he start to feel the bruises and just how many times people had stepped on his toes.


    For a few moments Byan lay awake listening. Larkin stopped by and chatted to Galahad about everything that had happened. Galahad inquired about his sister but she hadn¡¯t turned up yet. Both he and Larkin stepped out to look for her.


    Then there was quiet. Byarn felt his eyes grow heavy and he fell into a sleep.


    ***


    Byarn opened his eyes. The room was in deep shadow. The glow of the evening sun was a dull orange where it crept in through the crack.


    Byarn rubbed his face and sat up stiffly. His whole body ached.


    His sleepiness cleared a little more and something made him hold still. Slight sounds were reaching his ears. Normally, such sounds wouldn¡¯t bother him. But the scuff of boot on stone had a rhythm to it when a person was trying to sneak about.


    He slowly got up and retreated to a corner where there was a pile of stone rubble. He removed a stone as quietly as he could and revealed a small crawl space. He backed into it and moved the stone where it had been before.


    He backed himself through the crawlspace scaring some rats away. For several more feet he did this until he came into a more open area. He turned himself around in the small space and started crawling forward again.


    The little tunnel had mostly been made by slabs of rock that had fallen over. In some places he had to crawl over broken stones or go to his belly to squeeze beneath them. After another twenty feet, he came to another stone blocking his way.


    He waited and listened. Long moments drew out. Behind him down the tunnel he heard the sounds of boots on stones and hushed whispers. So, the soldiers had found his bed empty.


    He waited for a little more until the sounds receded and a soldier barked an order.


    Byarn crammed his fingers around the edges of the stone in front of him and slowly moved it to the side. This opened up into another room.


    Byarn crawled through and stood up and stretched, then replaced the stone. He crept stealthily to the door and cracked it open. The street was quiet outside. He waited a few more moments, then pushed the door open halfway and slipped through. He closed it behind him. He stood still and waited, listening.


    The streets here were cast in deep shadow now. The setting sun lit the sky but everything else was blacker than night between the dilapidated buildings.


    He took a few steps forward then quietly began running at a crouch to the right.


    ¡°Halt!¡±


    Byarn cursed and stopped short as a line of soldiers strode forward out of the darkness with their weapons drawn. He started running the other direction but soldiers were there too. They hemmed him in on either side, then circled him.


    Someone approached from behind the soldiers.


    ¡°Byarn Folk¡¯s Bane, it seems like your title has finally come back to haunt you.¡±


    Byarn couldn¡¯t make out the dim figure, but he knew who it was by the voice. ¡°You¡¯re a murderous coward Tamas. I haven¡¯t killed half as many peasants as you.¡±


    A soldier rushed Byarn from behind and struck him in the side of the head. Byarn toppled to the ground. His head swam with pain.


    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t run from us that whole stampede never would have happened. Galahad¡¯s sister never would have been trampled to death and he would have never blamed you for it. Now, here we are. The terror you¡¯ve wrecked on our people is finally at an end. Look at it this way, we¡¯ll finally be able to see what your lineage really is. Are you a fallen noble? Or just some scum who¡¯s only purpose is putting a blight upon our land.¡±


    A second blow blackened Byarn¡¯s vision and he slipped into unconsciousness.

 The Eminence

    They don¡¯t tell you where you¡¯ll be stationed when you sign up. It¡¯s simply, ¡°Congratulations, you¡¯re now a part of the Space Force,¡± and you¡¯ve become a part of a misfit family of nearly a million souls from a hundred different moons, planets and space stations.


    Me? I was assigned to the Eminence, the oldest and largest mothership in the Space Force. I didn¡¯t make it to officer so I was just one of the ¡®spits¡¯ as they called us. The equivalent to a ¡®grunt¡¯ in the army.


    Thus, amongst the Space Force I stopped being known as Harran Plam from the planet Zar and started introducing myself as The Eminence¡¯s Spit Private Plam ¡®The Baker¡¯. Of course, not to officers. My introduction only furthered the accuracy of us being named ¡®spits¡¯.


    So, after enduring too many weeks of boot camp, I walked aboard The Eminence when it was berthed at Zar¡¯s military spaceport. Quite a few grunts came with us, course, we all knew they wouldn¡¯t do much more than sit around playing cards and stinking up the place. They would only be useful if we invaded a planet, were boarded, or desperately needed food.


    Ahem, sorry about that last one. It was a joke.


    The Eminence didn¡¯t live up to its name at all. It was like a pauper puffing himself up and announcing he was king.


    The bathrooms were stained and old. I¡¯m pretty sure its furnishings were the original ones that had been on the ship a hundred years back. I¡¯m all for building things to last, but, you gotta replace some things at some point.


    The beds were actually quite nice. The mattresses pushed you up ever so slightly so it felt like you were lying on a thick mattress and not something only two inches thick. But, we paid for it in headspace. I can empathize with sardines nowadays.


    Even though she was an old ship, she didn¡¯t have a lick of rust on her. We¡¯re way past that in this age, even a hundred years ago. However, that doesn¡¯t stop the slow buildup of¡­of¡­I don¡¯t know what it is. I could feel it each time I brushed by a doorway. I couldn¡¯t get it off even when I tried my hardest when on cleaning duty. Apparently, composite alloys can stain, or something.


    Now, the ship wasn¡¯t all old. You could tell where they put their money. Like the guns, or the missiles, or the equipment they put on board. I realized just how much the Space Force loved this old ship when they were able to cram a turreted sixteen inch double-gatling cannon in the place of one of its old main guns.


    Yeah, that¡¯s right, fourteen sixteen-inch barrels. Battleship-class main guns made into gatling cannons.


    Now, its old guns weren¡¯t anything to sneeze at. I haven¡¯t seen anything yet that has been able to stand up to an eight-hundred millimeter shell.


    Thing is, its guns weren¡¯t even the most notable about it. It looked like it was metal from the outside, sure, but once you stepped to the inside you could tell it was something different. Stone maybe? Sometimes you can¡¯t ever tell with these composite alloy thingys. Anyway, it was brown. I had to grind off all the layers of paint down to the base coat one time on maintenance detail. All those high-tech paints were a pain to get off. Well, it was brown underneath all those layers.


    The weight of The Eminence is still confidential after all of these years, but the way she handled, my guess is she is a whole lot heavier than what they have the civies reading. Her power plant is bigger too. It almost takes up a fourth of the ship by itself.


    Well, just listen to me talking. I guess I¡¯m kinda proud of her. She¡¯s got personality. That¡¯s more than what I can say for the new ships. Those have a feeling of ¡®plastic¡¯ about them that feels cheap. Eminence only swayed softly when in the worst solar storm. These new ships bounce around like they¡¯re a leaf.


    You might ask why I¡¯m not with the Eminence if I liked her so much. Well, there¡¯s the story to be told about her if any. I¡¯ve heard tons of stories cuz the Eminence is as big as a city and I certainly haven¡¯t seen the entirety of it. You wouldn¡¯t think she was big if you were inside, but she is, despite all her small hallways and cramped quarters.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I learned just how big she was, and why she took so many grunts onboard, and why the spits we passed when boarding her looked so tired with bloodshot eyes.


    It was just a normal night on my second week aboard The Eminence. I was drifting off to sleep trying not to think about the KP duty I had tomorrow.


    Now, sound doesn¡¯t travel through the walls of the Eminence. It echoes. Yet, suddenly, I hear as if next to my ear a soft moaning sound a large metal beam might make. It repeated, just at the edge of my hearing. At first, I was a bit troubled and I leaned over to look at by bunk buddies. They were doing much the same.


    ¡°You hear that too?¡± I asked them.


    ¡°Yup.¡± Stoneface said, ¡°You know what it is Baker?¡±


    ¡°No clue.¡±


    Stoneface turned back in and I heard him snore after a minute.


    With no clue as to what was happening and no alarm going out, the rest of us tried to do the same.


    I was almost asleep when I started to hear the faintest sound of scraping intermixed with the moaning. I decided I¡¯d had enough and put my pillow over my ears.


    It seemed like I¡¯d only slept a moment when the general quarters alarm sounded.


    I let Cud jump out from his bunk above me before I jumped out of mine and soon we were strapping on our combat gear together. In just a few minutes we rushed out as a group joining the line of other spits coming from their quarters.


    When we reached our 5 inch gun post our sergeant gave each of us a plasma carbine and a grenade. Standard issue for fighting back boarding parties. He then marched us out with a whole company of other men and we trekked most of the length of the ship to the rear.


    There, we met a few engineers in charge of repairing the engines. We were to escort them and protect them until their job was done.


    Then, a heavy set of double doors was opened and we entered into a place of the ship I couldn¡¯t have imagined was there. The rooms and doorways were big, there were pillars and stone carvings, halls and rooms like we were walking through a mansion. Then there was the machinery. It soon twisted through the place as if overgrowing old ruins. It became so thick that it was like a jungle navigating it. Only, machetes wouldn¡¯t do any good here.


    We reached the place the engineers needed soon enough. As they worked we started hearing noises much like the ones we had heard when trying to go to sleep. Only louder and closer.


    The engineers quickened their work almost frantically and that¡¯s when my nerves started to fray. We hadn¡¯t been told something. There was an enemy on this ship and for some reason the engineers knew about it.


    I¡¯ve seen and felt the Eminence get hit by the worst weapons of our enemies and it didn¡¯t receive a single scratch even with full shields down. I don¡¯t know how anything was able to board the ship, but it had been successful and it had stayed.


    I won¡¯t tell you what we fought that night, or the gruesome details that followed. I will tell you that the engineers fixed whatever was broken. I will tell you that none of us died. Some of us were wounded, some for life and all of us were scarred mentally.


    I know why those spits looked so tired and bloodshot. It¡¯s because they could barely get a wink of sleep after their first encounter with what lived with us on that ship. We feared them not because we couldn¡¯t kill them, but because we couldn¡¯t get rid of them. We feared them because those before us couldn¡¯t get rid of them and our ancestors couldn¡¯t get rid of them. We feared them because we lived on the same ship as they and a single mistake by some hapless crewmate could let them past the barriers.


    I would say we should run The Eminence into a sun if I knew it could destroy her. But I¡¯m not so sure. She¡¯s priceless. I haven¡¯t seen our enemies turn tail and run so fast before. The only time they turn and shoot is if they have some new weapon they want to try out on us.


    It never works though.


    I heard that in the wars two hundred years ago that The Eminence rammed straight through a space station ten times bigger than it was.


    I believe it.


    But she¡¯s rotting from the inside. It¡¯s no wonder the new recruits get assigned to it. After working on her I¡¯m twice as willing and able to work on any other ship in the known universe and be happy for it. She builds character.


    It was the only time I saw ole Stoneface break from his stoic ways. Then, after a month, he was back to it. He slept like a baby where all the rest of us were waiting for the moans to start again.


    We didn¡¯t stay in the same group after we were reassigned, but I heard stories of Stoneface killing wild animals with his bare hands later on. I guess he had gotten bored with his new ship and took the first opportunity to do some hunting once he got short leave.


    Then I heard even that didn¡¯t suit his tastes and asked to be put back aboard The Eminence again.


    We¡¯re not friends anymore. He¡¯s changed.


    I¡¯ll be your sergeant for the rest of this boot camp and if your thick skull can remember anything I teach you then you had better remember this! They don¡¯t tell you where you¡¯ll be stationed when you sign up. Pray it¡¯s not The Eminence.

 Towers Rock

    Pippa steadied herself as the tower suddenly swayed with a gust of wind. Her heart jumped in her throat and for a second she considered diving off into the ocean to save herself.


    The timbers creaked, but the tower held. Her heart beat loudly in her chest. Feeling a little weak in the knees, she picked up the skin of oil again and proceeded to finish filling the beacon¡¯s reservoir.


    While she was waiting to light the beacon for the night, she stepped to the edge of the platform and watched as the sun set.


    The tower she lived on overlooked the smashed remains of Maasin, the tower that had fallen last summer. The other towers were still holding, however, it was decided after Maasin fell that the tower of Tagum should be abandoned as it was the oldest.


    If the island was normal, they wouldn¡¯t have to live on such towers perched upon the shoreline rocks. But no, the island was a steep crag of rock. Little in the way of plants or animals lived there.


    The sun sank into the ocean and she took a coal from the brazier and touched it to the large bowl of oil.


    The fire sprang up and flowed across the inky black surface. The sudden light reflected itself against the mirrors to warn shipping vessels. The other beacons were lit in quick succession.


    The last rays of sunlight traveled up the tower¡¯s mess of upright timbers and shingled roofs. Rope bridges spanning the towers swayed in the wind. Boats bobbed at anchor in the waters of the sheltered cove.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The sound of gulls was nearly drowned out by the roar of waves crashing against the rocks. Even as she was at the top of the tower, she could still smell the salty ocean and rotting fish.


    Her eyes started to sting and retreated down the ladder. The air in the lower room was slightly hazy from the smoke of cooking.


    Her feet pounded on wood down stairs, ramps and the rungs of ladders. Eventually, just as she could barely see in the darkness, she reached her home at the bottom of the tower.


    It wasn¡¯t comforting.


    The entire tower was above her and she could imagine it toppling and getting caught under it. It could happen any time. When she slept, while she was cooking or helping move goods.


    She stepped into her home and started stirring the coals of her fire. There wasn¡¯t much she could do to ward off the dampness caused by the spray of the ocean, but the fire helped a little.


    She set fish on sticks over the coals, then sat back and tried to relax. One of the massive supports of the tower made up a corner of her room by the head of her bed. When she would lay down tonight she would be able to hear the deep groans it made over the sound of crashing waves.


    She unlocked a drawer and took out a money pouch. For the tenth time that day, she counted the various coins from different countries. If she found the right captain who could use the various kinds of currency, it would be enough to buy passage.


    To where? She didn¡¯t care.


    She couldn¡¯t rest at night here, not since Maasin fell. Most everyone else would stay. There was just too much money to be made. All the ships who crossed this ocean needed this place. Without it, they would perish from hunger and thirst.


    For her though, she would like peace over money any day.


    She took the fish off the fire and waited for them to cool. The only light in the room was the glow from the coals.


    She ate not tasting the fish. It was what she¡¯d been eating for years now. After she was done, she climbed into her bed and tried to find rest.