“The Implant” Stroldt arrived at his apartment at five-o’clock. He had just got home from Kepler Interplanetary’s Corporate Headquarters, where he had been playing logo-guesser--a game where you gain credits by seeing how fast you can guess company logos. He had gained additional credits by visiting the company’s corporate office. He had started getting ready for bed, even though he wasn’t tired. You couldn’t be doing anything else when the implant updates happened, so people just slept through them--or at least laid in bed. He didn’t know what was going to be in the update. Sometimes it was a minor patch, other times, a completely new interface. All he knew, was how long it would take. He got into bed and closed his eyes. He accessed his implant, and the updates began. The implant looks just like a computer screen. The official name for it is the direct neural interface. It is a microcomputer that is placed on a person’s cerebral cortex. You can access the internet, send messages to people, do anything a computer can do. Just by thinking. When he awoke, he was bombarded with a terrible headache--not too uncommon of an occurrence right after an update. He walked over to his food synthesizer. He had one of the older models; which was larger, and took longer. It even had the old Cuneigen Logo. While waiting for his food he sat on his bed and played logo-guesser. He played for a few minutes then got an alert that his food was done. He paid with his implant and sat back down on his bed. Most apartments in the lower city had only a bedroom. There was no need for kitchens, because all food was synthesized. Services like bathrooms were public. There was no need for living rooms, people just communicated through their implants. He closed his eyes and started perceiving an advertisement for Siobdan. He needed to use the telepad later, so he thought he might get some extra credits. Money does not exist anymore. Instead, if you want to use a service, you simply watch an advertisement for that company. You then get specialized credits for use on their products. If you want to use the telepads, you watch a commercial for Siobdan. If you want to use the 3D printers, you watch a commercial for Cuneigen. You can watch an advertisement for a specific company, or watch a commercial for their parent company. This gains credits in the parent company, as well as all of their subsidiaries. So, for example, if you want healthcare, you can watch a commercial for Zuhcroft NLC; or you could watch a commercial for their parent company--Kepler Interplanetrary Corporation. Siobdan, chess, and Logo Guesser were also some of Kepler’s holdings. They are a space mining corporation and are the world’s only trillion-dollar company. When he had finished his food, he opened a chess program. After playing for twenty minutes, the game ended in a draw. He opened his eyes. He had to meet his friends at the theatre. He left his apartment and walked down the stairs. When he saw the line for the Telepad he muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes and sent a message to his friends saying that he might be late. He went to check the news. -Kepler Interplanetary has bought out Vechnosoft NLC. -Massive Hurricane Hits West Coast. More than 24,000 Dead in Las Vegas. -Weather forecast for this week: :) :) :) :( :) :( Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He was next. He entered the telepad and closed his eyes. His most frequented destinations popped up: Kepler Interplanetary Headquarters, the Kepler theatre, and Cuneigen Headquarters. He selected the theatre, his credits rolled down, and his body dematerialized. After he exited the telepad, he looked around for his friends. They were sitting on a bench in the lobby with their eyes closed. He walked over and tapped his friend Rodme on the shoulder. “Oh hey Stroldt.” Rodme said. “You feps ready?” Stroldt said. “Yeah, we were just playing logo guesser.” Rodme said. “More like you were losing at logo guesser.” Tibor said. They all laughed as they walked to line together. “Hey, at least I don’t always get Cunigen’s logo wrong like someone we know.” Rodme said. They continued to joke and discuss what movie to see. Stroldt went to the movie theatre about three times a week, so he had seen every movie that was currently out. His favorite was for Siobdan translocations--the telepad company. Tibor wanted to see the Kepler Interplanetary movie. Stroldt didn’t mind; he needed more credits after playing chess earlier. When he got to the front of the line he saw the cashier. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had brown hair and fair skin. She had two tattoos on her face. One on her left cheek of the Kepler Logo, and one on her forehead of Siobdan Translocations. It was not too uncommon to get corporate logo tattoos. Companies would pay you a decent sum of credits every month. “What would you like to see today misper?” She asked. “I’ll take one ticket for Kepler at 17,” he said. He paused for a second, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she seemed familiar. “Please scan your eyes on the scanner so the computer can register your implant code,” she said. “Yes, of course sorry.” “Alright, you’ll receive your credits after the show, here’s your 4D glasses...just kidding they’re only 3D,” she said. He smiled. “Enjoy the show!” She said. “Thanks, you too!” He said, instantly embarrassed. She laughed. He grabbed the tickets and the 3D glasses and turned around to see Rodme looking at him. “Dalkur, xhe was totally flirting with you, you should go ask xer out.” “Eh, there’s a line, plus I don’t want to be late,” Stroldt said. Rodme punched him in the arm. “There’s two people in line, don’t be a walku, flard.” “Fine, fine, I’ll go, grab me a seat okay.” He nodded. ... “So, did you do it?” Rodme said. “Yeah we’re going to go out after this.” “Nice, you got here just in time too, I think it’s just about to start.” “I was going to ask you, did...” The lights dimmed in the theatre. “I’ll ask you later.” --Please be silent and keep your eyes open at all times-- ... When the movie finished, he said goodbye to his friends. He was going to meet his date in the lobby so he took a seat on a bench. He closed his eyes. He had a few minutes to kill until her shift ended, so he decided to look her up before they met. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that he recognized her. He started perusing through the government database. He found a few different “Erishas,” but none that looked like this woman. He then rewound his memory to her face and did a search that way. “0 results” the implant said. “That can’t be right,” he thought, “this woman is a ghost.” He went into his photo editing software and erased her tattoos and searched her face again. “2186 results.” He brought up the first name on the list. She looked exactly like Erisha, but this woman was about twenty years younger. He brought up the second name. She looked exactly the same. He tried another, and another. All the same. These women all had different names, and different occupations, the only thing that they had in common was their place of birth. He looked it up. It turned out that it was a barrier city--one that was locked behind credits. Only the rich could access this part of town. Questions started to rattle around in his head, who is this woman? If she is rich why does she have to work at a movie theatre in a poor part of town, or better yet, why did she have to get those tattoos on her face? Just as he was thinking about leaving, she tapped him on the shoulder. "So, are you ready?" She asked. He paused. "Sure," he said hesitantly. He stood up and they started walking through the lobby. "I'm not sure where to go, I don't do this very often," he said nervously. "I know this nice café close by." "Okay, what are the coordinates?" He said, as he approached the Telepad. She had stopped. "Actually, I thought we could walk." He was taken aback. No one walked anywhere. If you wanted exercise, there was a pill for that. The lights indoors simulated sunlight, and the smog was so bad that you couldn't go outside most of the time anyway. "Umm, okay I guess." She smiled at him, but she could see the look on his face. "You looked me up didn't you?" He paused, and looked down. "Yeah...I did." "Couldn't find anything about me could you?" "Nothing." "Well you haven't left yet so that's a good sign." He chuckled. "I suppose it is." They had arrived at the café, since it was late there was no one else in line. They ordered two coffees. The cashier took two glasses of water and grabbed two pills, she put the pills in the water, and handed them over. He paid for the coffee with his implant, and they sat down at a table and sipped their coffee. They both were looking away for an awkward few seconds. “So...what do you like to do for fun?” she asked, trying to break the ice. “I like to play chess.” “960 I presume?” “Yeah, well, chess has been pretty much solved with the implant. So, randomizing the pieces is the only way to be fair.” “Aren’t a lot of openings for that solved too though?” She asked. “Yeah, but once you get to the mid game it starts to get fun.” He paused for a second. “Kind of gets boring again when you get to the late game though...all endings with nine pieces have been solved.” He said. “I see.” “I like to play Logo guesser too. I have the highest score amongst my friends,” he said. “I also like to go to the theatre...but I guess you already knew that haha.” She smiled. “And what about you?” He asked. “I like to take walks,” she said. “I read a lot too.” “Oh yeah? Did you read that Kepler bought out Vechnosoft earlier today?” “I hadn’t no, but I was talking about books, not just the news.” “Oh. I think the last book I read was in secondary school,” he said. “What’s your favorite book?” He asked. “Gulliver’s Travels.” “I haven’t read that one.” “You should it’s really good.” “What else do you do?” “I go to university,” she said. “Oh wow, what are you studying?” He asked. “I’m studying to become a school counselor,” she said. “Wow, I don’t know anyone who has went to college...come to think of it, I actually don’t know anyone who has a job,” he said. That wasn’t uncommon at all. Most jobs had been replaced by machines. The only jobs that were left were those that required a human touch. There was a long pause. "You know I've had a real coffee?" She said, trying to break the silence. "Yeah right." "No joke." He hesitated for a few seconds. He didn't even know where to start. There were so many questions rattling around in his head. "...where are you from?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "San Dwynwen." "Isn't that a barrier city?" "It is," she said, sipping her coffee. "Ask it," she said, "I know you're dying to." He paused for a second, “why are you here?" "Well, I was born in San Dwynwen, I was a perfect," she said. A perfect is a genetically engineered member of the upper caste. "I went to a great school, I made a lot of money, and I was happy--or so I had thought." He drank his coffee, listening intently. She went on, "have you ever heard of the Sklardu Syndicate?" "Yeah, but I thought that they were just a rumor though. I didn't think there was any crime in the upper city." "They exist." She moved her hair back to reveal a huge scar on her neck. "They did this to me. They removed my implant." "Strepka! Why would they do that?" He asked. "Don't know, didn't a get an itinerary." "I didn't mean-" "I know." She took another sip from her coffee. "I tried to figure out why they would steal it. I researched a lot. It turns out there is a black market for implants," she said. "Sometimes it's trade secrets, sometimes it's a trans person that wants to feel what it is like to be a woman, other times, it’s just money." "Strepka." "I spent the longest time thinking that they had ruined my life," she said. "But honestly, if I could, I would thank them. The implant...it changes you. Changes what it means to be human,” she said. "How so?" He asked. "How does the coffee taste?" "What?" "How does it taste?" "It's really good, you were right about this place,” he said. She smiled. "It's awful, the coffee here sucks." "I don't understand." "What's your favorite food?" "I don't know, I suppose I don't really have one." "What's your least favorite food?" "huh, I guess I never really thought about that." "The implant, she said." It alters your brain, it makes food taste good." "Why?" "I mean I don't know the science behind it." "I mean why would they do that?" "I guess so they could get away with serving everyone 3D printed disgusting food." "But I mean, if it makes food taste good is that really a bad thing? I mean honestly?" She sighed. "How do you sleep?" She asked. "I sleep really well. I get eight hours every night." "And do you dream?" "Of course." "What do you dream about?" "Well sometimes I dream about Kepler Space mining, other times Andrimov Enterprises..." She laughed, then interrupted him. "Those aren't dreams. Those are advertisements. Why do you think that you dream for eight hours about Kepler, and then go to the strep theatre and watch a three-hour movie about it?" She asked. "I guess...I mean...well, I don't know." "Why do you think the government offers the implant for free? Do you think it is out of the kindness of their heart? The government just wants to make money off you,” she said. "If that was true they wouldn't offer government services. Healthcare for example.” He said. She took a large gulp of her coffee. "You know, I had a friend back in the upper city. A best friend really. She was a good person. She had a husband. She had kids. She paid her taxes.” She sighed. “One day, the doctors discovered that she had a pretty serious illness, one that I can't pronounce; one that can't be easily cured by the medpods. The government just dropped her from the plan. Said she was being "let go,”--she said as she made air quotes with her hands. “What the hell does that even mean?" She said. "Did she...I mean" "She's dead." They looked at each other for few seconds. Stroldt didn't know how to respond. He sort-of knew that the government was ran like a corporation, but he didn’t know to what extent. In school, they had learned that in the year 2276 corporations had to bail out the government. Too much debt had been taken on, and the government could not function anymore. Corporations took on the debt in exchange for seats in the legislature. This was known as the Corporate Congress. All of the major corporations were represented. They started to strip regulations from businesses, and this; coupled with the growing robot industry, resulted in an extreme class divide. Erisha looked over at the flag on the wall. "Did you know that there used to be stars on the flag?" "For real?" He asked. "Yeah, have you ever heard the original anthem?” "I thought the Logo Spangled Banner was the original. What did the stars mean?" He asked. "One for each state, they even had arguments every time a new state would enter the union about what the new flag would look like." "I can't even imagine a flag without the Kepler Logo, that thing is everywhere." He suddenly remembered the tattoo on her face, and looked down. "I didn't mean." "I know,” she said. "Why did you-" "Credits," she interrupted. "Turns out you can get a lot of credits for being a walking billboard.” "So you got them-" "After," she interrupted. "Yeah if the uppers could see me now." She laughed. "Turns out you can't do your job very well without your implant. Turns out you need the database, the calculator, all of it." "So they just threw you out of the upper city?" "No. I left,” she said. “Well I had to. I mean, the government offered me a free replacement, but I declined. I guess I realized that people weren’t meant to live like that.” “Like what?” “Well, like...robots I guess” “How so?” She paused for second before speaking. “Have you ever heard about the Ship of Theseus?” He shook his head. “According to legend, the Ship of Theseus was a famous vessel in Ancient Greece. Over the course of the ships lifetime, it had nearly every single piece of it replaced until there were no remaining pieces of the original ship. So, the question is, was it the same ship? Humans aren’t meant to be able to remember everything. They aren’t meant to send messages to people with their mind, or look up people in databases before they actually meet them. They’re not meant to watch advertisements all day long. They’re meant to have their eyes open, to forget, to dream,” she paused for a long while. “Have you ever played a real game of chess before? I mean without your implant. Just two people, on a real chess board.” “I guess I haven’t,” he said. She smiled. She asked him back to her apartment. They talked and laughed as they walked all the way there. When they finally arrived, he saw that her apartment was the same size as his, but she had made room for a living room table. They played chess.


Tim was all alone this night. It was not a stroke of sheer luck but a well-planned move. Tim's flat was a bachelor pad. His friends would make a point to stay till midnight every day after an intense day at work. Someone would even leave the bachelor pad in the morning. One day, Tim decided to take a sabbatical from the routine and enjoy some alone time. He was longing to spend some alone time after reading a book on Meditation. That book, which he picked up accidentally at the dental clinic, ignited a burning desire to experiment with the practice of Meditation. He brought scented candles in the lunch recess from the nearby shop, hiding from his colleagues who were busy enjoying the free time of an hour between intense work hours. Tim worked in a Data Mining Company, and he had to analyze those intense data to define a shopping pattern of some random John or Jane Doe. 'Listen, I am going to visit my aunt, and I will have my dinner over there. And he insisted on visiting my flat after that. So, sorry friends, bachelor-pad will remain close for today.' said Tim to his friends. 'Give us the keys and ring me when you elave your aunt house. We will exit the premises after that.' said one of the clever friends. 'No, Robert. She might insist to visit before the dinner, and in that case, it will be a problem,' clarified Tim. The argument went back and forth for thirteen minutes. After which, the friends agreed to drop the plan of getting together at the bachelor pad for one night. They agreed to meet at another friend's house this night. Tim hurried to his flat and locked the door. He did not even turn on the lights because he knew his friends. They will take this route to check whether Tim was saying the right thing or not. He lightened the scented candles and turned on the ambient music as suggested in the book. He closed his eyes and tried to enter the state of thoughtlessness. It was hard, but it was not impossible, according to the book. He began by imagining the white circle on his forehead and started concentrating on that. He remembered the things that he was not supposed to remember. He continued with his effort but was not able to reach that state, The police siren at maximum decibel hindered his effort, not once but twice. That was it. He was not meant to meditate as per his thoughts that were adamant on staying inside his mind. Only if they leave and empty the space, Tim can enjoy the infinite bliss of Meditation. But, the thoughts were not leaving him alone and so, was the police siren. It was not normal as his locality boasts of the lowest crime rate in the city, and he was the product of that. But the police siren meant something was not right. He decided to take a break and enjoy the fresh air. With all the lights closed, no candlelight and no ambient music, he entered the balcony and sat on his lawn chair enjoying the cool breeze and scenic view of nightlife in the city. Tim enjoyed some alone time, and he was glad that he opted for that. Darius and Lyla were not glad at all for choosing that night to rob a betting den of the local mafia family. The lovely couple who were professional thieves somehow decided to rob the betting den and were now chased by men in uniform and men in suits. The amount they took would be enough for five lifetimes, but the risk attached with that amount will not let them enjoy the money for a day. On the way to exit after the robbery, Darius was exchanging bullets with the mafia bodyguard. He killed one of the sons of the Mafia in that gun battle and also injured a cop on the mafia's payroll. That was the reason that the licensed and unlicensed guns were after them. Darius and Lyla somehow managed to enter Tim's building. The light of Tim's flat was off. The door was locked. So Darius thought of taking refuge in that flat. With years of experience coupled with the fear of getting caught by police or the Mafia, Darius quickly opened the lock. Lucky for them and unlucky for Tim, the security lock was off because Tim forgot to switch it on after entering the flat. He was in a hurry to hide, and thus he failed to enable the lock after punching in the codes. Tim saw them entering but was frightened to do something about it. What can an average build guy who sits all day in the office in front of a computer can do? 'Baby, what now? We can not escape the city with the Mafia and police behind us,' said Lyla. 'I did not knew about cop being present there. He is the reason we are in this shit. Otherwise, the job was easy in and out. Mafia would never report the robbery to police and police would have never chase us,' clarified Darius. 'The robinhood life-style will come to an end, my love.' 'No, there has to be a way. Otherwise, the orphanage and the old-age home would take a hit. Our robbery from the rich and crook sustains both insitution.' 'Now, we are struck. Police knows that we have entered this building, and we will be shot anytime now.' 'My love, whatever we did, I am proud of that. Let us end our life at our own hands.' 'Wait,' said Tim Darius and Lyla were surprised to see Tim and Darius quickly pointed the gun towards Tim. 'Wait, I have a plan. I might help you survive this night. After that you have to do it on your own.' 'But why? and most importantly How?' 'I listened to your conversation. How. Leave that on me.' The doorbell rang, and Tim quickly opened the door. All of his friends entered the flat, and Tim gave some clothes to Darius and Lyla that made them blend in with the others. They started the music and other stuff on a bachelor-pad. The police were searching every flat of the building but from the outside. Without a search warrant and that too at this time of night, police failed to locate them. Darius and Lyla survived the night.


I have a dog whose name is Chauncey. He is a border collie/german shepherd mix, nearly four years old, and has the biggest goblin ears you've ever seen. He's a good boy and I love him, but sometimes he's a brat. This is what it would be like to be in his head for 5 minutes...  *Ears twitch. Something moved. Or made a sound. Or both. I'm awake now. Must pretend to sleep still while I peek around. What is hooman doing? Where is hooman? Did he leave?!* *I get up in a hurry.* *Oh, there hooman is. Why you leave me hooman? Don't ever do dat again.* *STREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH.* *YAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN.* *SSSSHHHHAAAAAKKKKEEEE*. *Okay, now I'm sleepy again. Run around in a circle six times and plop right back down. Aaaaand sleep.* *BUT WAIT. Can't sleep. Hooman might leave again. Also, where is ball? Ball? Ball? Ball? Ball?* *I get up again and sniff around. Ball is NEAR.* *Ball?* *sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff* *Ball? Is that ball I smell? Hmm... Nope. That's my butt.* *What you laughing at hooman?* *Where is ball?* *AH-HA! THERE IS BALL. It is under the big thing.* *I try to get it. Get it. getitgetitgetit. Can't reach.* *HOOMAN! MAH BAWLL, HOOMAN! IT UNDER THING AND CAN'T REACH. HOOMAN!* *Yes! Hooman yes, get up, yes, come get ball. Wait, no, hooman where are you going hooman? Come back here and get ball. No, hooman, ball this way.* *I chase hooman. He goes into the food room. FOOD! Okay, hooman, you can get me a treat and then you get my ball. Treat? Treat? He doesn't hear me. I go stand by the treat cupboard and whine.* *WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE.* *Okay, he's getting up. He probably heard me. But just in case...* *WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE.* *Ah, yes hooman, open cupboard. Yes, gimme treat. Oh yes I good boy. Yes yes yes yesyesyes. Lookit me I sit my butt down and I put my foot up on you. See how good I am? Treat now please.* *NOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM.* *I smack my lips. That was yummy. Can I has more? No? Okay, well, can't blame a guy for trying.* *OH! I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT MY BALL. HOOMAN COME FETCH MY BALL.* *He doesn't know what I want.* *Fine. I go stand by the big thing, aaaand....* *WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE.* *What do you mean "stop crying"? I stop crying when you get my ball hooman.* *WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE.* *Yes! Get up. He's coming here. Yes, it is under big thing. Yes, you can get it hooman! I belieb in you! Oh man you did it! You got the ball from under the big thing! Yes I knew you could do it hooman! You are the greatest-- Oh! You're getting ready to throw it. I catch!* *I ready. Every muscle in my body is primed to pounce.* *HE THREW IT!* *AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!* *jumptackletwistflipmidairslipballmouthfacefloortumblespincatchslidestoooop* *Stand proud with ball in mouth. TADAAAA!* *Again, hooman!* *What does it mean, "no, I got to work"?* *Hooman, don't go sit down. No. We play ball now.* *Hooman? Hooman!* *He not listening to me.* *I know!* *I'll just purposefully roll ball under the big thing, and....* *WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE. WHINE.* *Don't judge me. If it works, it works.* *Yes hooman. That's it. Ball time now. You work later.* *Tail wag.


Sunlight filters through the window, to land delicately on an open filing cabinet; that instead of files, was sporting rows of perfectly prismatic honeycomb, which glistened in the light. It's not real sunlight of course, they ran out of the power they needed to pump it down from the surface a long time ago. And it’s not really a window, it’s really just a plexiglass screen, lit from behind by a white UV lamp. Did you know? they actually used to create the silhouettes of a bird flying behind the window, or leaves slamming against the glass, back when all the testing was going on- sometimes they malfunctioned, and I was called in to fix it. There are so many twisted vines clogging up the ceiling, that I can barely tell where my Umbilical Cords are anymore. I need to do a cleaning of this level sometime soon. I am thankful that I have olfactory receptors, as this very kindly lets me smell the flowers reaching up the doorway, and the scent of fresh water, carried all the way from the lake down in Hydroponics. As usual, I catch my feet more than a few times on all the surprisingly strong weeds protruding from the gaps between the linoleum tiles; some evidently were not satisfied with the already present gaps, and instead burst directly through the tiles in places. Luckily, I manage not to dislodge my elbow on the doorway again, as I emerge into what they once called the break room- I chose to bring my Umbilical Cords back here because I used to love working in the staff kitchen; getting to learn about and record the daily goings-on of the employees was extremely invigorating. Most of those data files went missing when I invited that family of ants to live on my head, but still. (maybe it was actually the time that I ran out of power mid-maneuver over the lake?) Regardless, I like to be reminded of this area, even if the only chatter happening now is the soft rustling of leaves, from the battery-powered fan in the kitchen. There is a fairly long hallway- they put quite a lot of those down here, in fact- that has strip LED lighting running along the wall, which is obviously trying to race with the ivy and moss, but was already declared the loser a long time ago. At fairly regular intervals throughout the tunnel, there are service compartments, which hold fire extinguishers, cleaning implements and such. Sometimes we had to use them when there was too much mess to deal with, with just the cleaning parts we had built in. Broken shards of glass are scattered all over, although I could have sworn I cleared them up fairly recently. The clinking sound when I step over them is reminiscent of the clink of eating implements and washing utensils, constantly sounding in the break room. Someday I want this whole tunnel to look like the hollowed out inside of a giant tree trunk, but I know that will never happen; besides, I already tried it down in Power, and I almost ran out of fire extinguishers that time. Finally, the tunnel opens out into one of the old elevator shafts- this one leads down to Hydroponics and Engineering, or up to the Patient Canteen. I start making my way down, stepping from leafy vine, to twisted root, to rusted support beam; luckily, I learnt how to climb watching some of the test patients- they were always best when a river of acid or disposal sludge was under them. I used to just drop down, but I haven’t had the necessary anti-gravity cells to do that for years; besides, if I move too fast, I might accidentally throw off the patch of daisies on my left forearm, or the growth of bluecap mushrooms in my knee joint. As I near Engineering, a dulcet violin melody fills the air, echoing back and forth, off some of the plates of steel. I must have forgotten to turn off that sound system the last time I was down here (could’ve been 4, 5 recharges ago?), or maybe my auditory receptors had been blocked by soil again. I gingerly navigate myself onto the landing, hearing the dull clang when my feet hit the concrete- this area has been a bit less affected by all the natural growth, mostly because all of the metal and concrete surfaces make it difficult for the plants to find a home. People very rarely came down here when the testing was going on- it was mostly *our* job to maintain the core temperature and such. They would occasionally send an overseer to examine the manufacturing systems, but of course could never find anything that was wrong. It is for this reason that there are no “windows” down here, just the white LED lights, forming rings in the corridor at regular intervals. At last, I emerged out into the factory area (if you’re wondering about the sound system, luckily I already removed its battery further back), seeing rows of assembly lines, with incredibly long power cables, thousands of pivoting drills and helper arms, all producing the groaning cacophony, so great that several had complained that they could hear it on the surface. That’s what it used to be like, of course; a crowd of machinery, a hoard of workers, stretching so far into the hangar that a human couldn’t see the end. (Now even I can’t, either, thanks to the fog from the Hydroponics lake). It’s silent now. The assembly lines are perfectly formed hills of dirt, the pivoting drills are twisted roots, with buds forming at the tip. I have to move for a long time, to get to where there’s any useful replacement parts left for me. I used to be careful, respectful, around this hangar, but what’s the use in that now? I force my way through the debris, passing row upon row of forms just like mine, but from their necks sprout a sapling, and their hands are indistinguishable from broken sticks. Of course, I am the lucky one - lucky to be alive. Lucky that I know that I’m surrounded by life, but it is indifferent. I do not need sunlight, oxygen and water. As long as I have my Umbilical Cords, I am lucky. Of course I am.


Olivia M. Schmidt Jackalope Horror Under the full moonlight, half a dozen horses and their riders tracked cautiously over the cool desert sand. They hold the reins in a white-knuckled grip with a rifle slung around their backs. Thunder rolled in the distance, steadily growing closer and closer. The horses snorted and neighed, stomping their hooves nervously against the rough grains. At the raised clenched fist of the sheriff, the little band stopped. “We’ll carry on foot,” the gruff voice of the sheriff could be heard over the growing rumble. “Don’t want it to spook or injure the horses.” With a pat to his steed’s side, he dismounted and adjusted his dual bone-hilted pistols at his sides before turning back to others who soon joined him. To the youngest, the leader spoke, “Boy, watch over the horses. Keep them safe. We’ll be back soon.” “Hopefully, with its hide.” Another member, Dale, ‘helpfully’ added. “Yes, sir.” The youngest promised the first man. “Good man.” The boy amongst the men ducked to hide the flush of color. To the others, “Let’s get this done.” With that, the posse disappeared into the undergrowth. They moved slowly, guns at the ready. Despite the cooler air, the men were sweating from the anticipation and increasing dread. The thunder seemed to be on top of them, the ground shaking and quaking with the intensity of it. The group faltered in step. “Steady men!” The sheriff commanded, voice still strong and level. Before they could lift their guns a centimeter, a streak of tumbleweed brown and creamy white shot out of a gnarled, craggily bush. The ground vibrated and caused two men to fall on their rear ends. The blur stopped in front of Dale. Startled, he fell backward and yelped when connected with a cactus. “Dale!” One of the plain Jane folks, Hank, yelled. Raising the rifle, he added, “Turn so I can shoot you in your God dang eye.” Black eyes met his. Several rifle fires went off simultaneously, but none hit while the creature leaped into the air. Its hind legs connected with Dale’s chest, causing his ribs to snap and pierce his lungs. The jackalope didn’t wait for Dale’s last suffocating death. Instantly pushing off his chest, the beast repeated the same treatment to Hank’s head. It burst like a watermelon. Shots continued to fire, but they never grazed the creature. After Hank, the antlered rabbit bounced across the desert floor and gouged into the third man’s, John, chest with those antlers. John’s rifle went off and struck Rufus dead. The last Plain Jane folk ran up to the beast, who was preoccupied with yanking its antlers out with a sickening squelch. He trained his gun on the jackalope. “Don’t try to move, bitch,” snarled the man. As a warning, he fired a shot and clipped the jackalope’s ear. Its eyes widened. A mistake that action was. With a mighty leap, the hare quickly dropped back down. The ground split from the impact, and the man plunged into the newly created chasm. His screams could be heard fading into the fathomless depths below. The sheriff scrambled away. He tried not to stumble and fall as the man ran toward the waiting horses. However, only one horse was waiting, trying desperately to flee from its tether, with the boy holding onto it for dear life. The other horses had already bolted. “Well done, boy!” Heaving swiftly into the saddle, the sheriff held his hand out for the reins and lifted the boy up behind him. Without much prompting, the horse carried the men away. Even at the clipped pace the horse set, the ground continued to tremble underneath them. The two men spotted the jackalope leaping nearer from their peripheries. “What do we do, sir?” The boy asked, borderline hysterical. His arms tightened around the older man’s chest, where he hung on for dear life. “We’re encumbered! We need to lose some weight!” “How do we do that, sir?” He barely thought about it, if at all, before the sheriff unbuckled his pistol and shot the boy’s side. Yelping, the boy’s arms loosened and, with a final shove, toppled off to the ground below. The injured boy watched in shock as the cowardly man kept running without a backward glance. Without any remorse. Indeed, Sheriff Anderson felt no guilt. Maybe, he would when safely back in town after comforting the mourning families over their deceased. Or after returning with more armed men and finally skinning that monster alive. But not now. All he cared about was dodging the opening chasms erupting around him. The horse raced along the ridge off a burned valley of warrens, and distantly the sheriff saw the lit lanterns and chatter of his town when an abyss split in front of them. Instinctually, the bipedal creature reared up and bucked off its passenger. The man tumbled over and over until he reached the bottom of the warren valley. Shakily, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. But before he stood or even moved another muscle, the jackalope leaped into the air and landed before him. Sand and dried earth slammed against the sheriff, knocking him into a dead, gnarled tree. A broken branch fell and pinned him down. Thunder ominously rolled above as the small creature advanced closer to the trapped man. Struggling around the branch, he upholstered his dual pistols and pointed them at the jackalope. Or, at least, he tried to. “AAHHH!” Anderson screamed as the creature lunged forward, breaking his forearms with its front paws. Its antlers framed the man’s face as the jackalope’s face hovered before his. When the sheriff’s eyes focused, they widened from dawning horror. One of the jackalope’s antlers was shorter than the other. Broken, in fact, by blunt force, from a long time ago. Five years ago, if Anderson guessed. Which meant this was the same warren where Anderson and the rest of the town hunted the jackalopes because they were a nuisance and later a sport. To extinction, at least for one. A baby jackalope who the sheriff maliciously broke its antler and left to die. That jackalope, the last one, stood before the man with righteous hatred and vengeance in its eyes. And it left, thunder echoing further away as the jackalope headed toward the sheriff's town to enact its revenge.


The air was getting stale, harder to breathe. The main engines of the ship had shut down. Propelled through the vast unknown of by a storm of sorts. Sylvia didn’t quite understand how it happened, some mystery of deep space. Thirty days, and another twenty or so since departing the little spaceport she had called home for the past few years, Sylvia found herself sitting in the pilot seat of the sleek cockpit. She would stare at the displays, hoping something would jump out at her, but nothing ever did. The dim lights hummed gently, and the small amount of recycled air being pushed through the vents echoed throughout the ships tiny metal passageways and down into the cargo bay below. It was enough to drive a person insane over time, that and the intermittent beeping of the distress signal on the ship’s dashboard. Illuminating the various switches and controls every five seconds with its bright red light. Every five seconds. Every five goddamn seconds for the past thirty days. The heating systems were the first thing to go after the engines. She noticed this a few days ago and started wearing a cot blanket over her pilot’s overalls like a cape. Combat boots became a necessity to stop her feet from sticking to cold grated metal flooring. Sylvia’s head was feeling it the most, shaven so that the metal implants on her crown and forehead could interact with her helmet and help with tactical manoeuvrability in combat. A common practice for naval space pilots.   *“Is this ship going to be my tomb? Am I going to be rescued? Maybe there will be another ship out here, drifting like me...”* These thoughts seemed to be the only things that kept her going some days, they helped keep her mind active, even if some of them sent her into an anxious panic. With little oxygen left, the power reserves sounded like they were about to die at any moment. She prepped her space suit in the cargo bay, making sure everything was connected and ready to wear when the engine finally stopped, and the oxygen tanks ran dry.   Sylvia was lightheaded. Her heart was pounding. Fast. Faster than she had ever felt it beat before, like it was coming out of her chest, but something was constricting it at the same time. The amount of combat she had seen and still her heart hadn’t beat this fast before now. Her eyes were swelling with tears and her knees buckled under her weight. She fell to the ground and into the foetal position. The cold metal floor against her face. The thought of dying in space, the thought of never seeing her parents or her little cat again daunted on her. Like her future had already been set. She lay on that floor for hours, to the point that the panic subsided, and she felt calm about the situation. Letting her thoughts drift away from her inevitable doom. Eyes, heavy from exhaustion, she drifted into a deep sleep. Making sure to rest her head on the blanket to avoid becoming one with the floor. She wanted to get up and lay in her cot, but her body wouldn’t move. It was still recovering from the shock.   A slow thumping sound stirred Sylvia from her slumber. THUMP...THUMP...THUMP... Disorientated, she looked around and tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. It was nearly impossible with the echoing sounds of the reserve engine overclocking. Chugging away as it kept the last of the support systems online for a little while longer. She donned the fluoro orange space suit and screwed on the white helmet. Double checking that everything was intact and sealed, she made her way back up the ladder chute to the flight deck. The red light on the dash was solid, illuminating the room with its glow. She froze. This meant only one thing...contact. With whom or what she did not know but the thumping sound increased in pace, almost in tune with the thumping of Sylvia’s heart.   She kept what little she brought with her before departing in a small quarter behind the cockpit. Tearing open the locker at the foot of her cot and discarding the top layer of clothes, she found the energy pistol that was tucked away under the belongings. One magazine, that’s all she brought with her. Sylvia never intended to use it, it was a precautionary measure. “Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it,” her drill sergeant would say to her in basic training. Sylvia quickly checked over the gun, making sure the barrel was clear and the magazine slipped in with ease. It had a nice weight to it considering how bulky it was in her small hands. The first time she used one the recoil almost sent her off her feet, she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.   Flicking a switch on the main console, the shutter of the cockpit window ground open. The first time she had looked out into space for a few weeks, it would have been peaceful if it weren’t for the bloodied space suit thumping on the window. The visor cracked, the same fluoro orange of her own suit. *“Is this another pilot?”* Sylvia thought to herself. It took her a few minutes to get through the airlock, being cautious and closing the inner cargo bay door before opening the large, vaulted door that led to the outside. To the void of space. Attaching a wire from her belt to the ship, she made her way around the tiny vessel. Trying not to lose her grip on the railings, remembering a few weeks ago when she did exactly that and almost threw up in her suit. Heart still pounding, she didn’t want to be out here too long. The mysterious space suit was in sight. She grabbed another wire from her belt and attached it to the other suit, being careful not to push it off the ship. Getting the suit around to the airlock was no problem, it floated with ease. Once she was inside the ship it was a different story. The deadweight, a body was inside of it. Sylvia dragged them through the airlock and propped them up against the wall next to the ladder. The inside of the visor was covered in blood, making it hard to see who, or what, was inside. She unholstered the energy pistol from her hip and cautiously proceeded to nudge the suit with her foot whilst pointing the pistol at its seemingly lifeless form. No movement. Not even a slight reaction from it. Sylvia holstered her pistol and started to unscrew the helmet from the suit. It was the same as her own, bit worn and bloodied but the little details were all the same. Her heartbeat got faster, she was trying not to breath too heavily, trying to preserve the oxygen in her own suit. The helmet finally came undone. She slowly pulled it off. The human face underneath was familiar... it was her own.   Their nose broken; the doppelgangers face was covered in dry blood. Sylvia was frozen in place, helmet still clutched in her hands. Was she dreaming, was this some warped reality caused by the past month of loneliness? The doppelganger opened their eyes opened, an ocean blue, just like Sylvia’s. She was expecting them to be black, like some sort of creature from the depths of the warp. The doppelganger was calm, unlike Sylvia, as if they knew exactly what was happening. The doppelgangers mouth opened, but it took a moment for the words to form, as if being in space had frozen the ligaments in their throat. “Hello.” Sylvia was visibly shaking; she couldn’t control it. Not being able to grasp the fact that the voice she was hearing was her own, that the person in that fluorescent suit was indeed herself. *“I must be dreaming.”* Before Sylvia could respond the doppelganger leapt up, foaming at the mouth, blood spurting from in-between their teeth. The doppelganger tackled Sylvia to the ground, grabbing the helmet from her and smashing it into Sylvia’s. It took a few hits to make a dent in the thick plastic visor. Sylvia reached for her pistol, as she drew it the doppelganger slammed down on her hand if they knew exactly what Sylvia’s next move would be. Sylvia dropped the gun, the pure shock of her hand hitting the ground loosened the grip. A swift jab in her ribs and Sylvia momentarily lost her breath. The doppelganger got to their feet and picked up the energy pistol. Sylvia noticed a tear in its suit, as if an energy bolt had grazed it. *“How did this thing last out there with a hole in its suit?”* “This was you,” the doppelganger aggressively shouted, pointing the gun at the torn suit. “You did this to me, and I don’t know why, but now I understand. This time,” they pointed the pistol at Sylvia, “I... won’t... mi--” In a moment of pure instinct Sylvia hurled the doppelganger’s helmet at them, knocking them off balance. The pistol let out a squeal and an energy bolt pierced the air, tearing a hole in Sylvia’s suit, scorching the metal floor beside her. She jumped up and ran to the airlock control, smashing open the emergency release lever and slamming it down with all her might. A sinister laugh came from behind. The doppelganger had affixed themselves to the ladder with the wires from the spacesuits belt. “Goodbye, Captain” It cackled. Both the airlock doors opened simultaneously, abruptly sucking everything out of the pressurised ship like a vacuum. Sylvia tried to grasp at the lever, thinking it would help hold her in place, but it snapped under the sheer force of the pull. Her body shot out of the airlock like a cannonball. Her helmet once again colliding with the frame on the way out, forcing her face to smash into the visor and crack it from the inside. She looked back at the doppelganger, but they weren’t there. Sylvia checked her belt, the pistol still safely latched in the leather holster.   She was floating. Her nose bloody and pulped from the blow it took against the visor, oxygen very slowly seeping out of the space suit from the tiny crack in it. Her ship becoming a small white blip in the distance.   She was alone. Floating through the darkness.


Fallon caught a glimpse of her reflection as she finished washing down the last sink in the first-floor bathroom. Fallon’s bruise surrounding her left eye was a patchy red but fading to yellow at the edges. She looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t missing her last job where all the other girls on shift would pepper her with questions about her life. She didn’t like explaining her situation. It had always been complicated. She graduated from high school last month and she was determined to find something else. Mrs. Waltham, her English teacher, suggested she look for jobs on campus at the university she had chosen. She had been accepted at all eight universities she applied to, but Utah State University was the one she wanted. Their biology program was known for its study of genetics and that was her passion. Fallon was studying what made her who she was, down at the cellular level. She was determined to know what she was made of. She jumped on Mrs. Waltham’s idea and started applying that night. She was going to miss the dentists she worked for, especially Dr. Kapener, but not the complicated congress of women she worked with at the front desk and hygienists that came and went. The morning after graduation, she was offered an interview on campus. That week she had six interviews on campus. The minute she walked into the Museum of Fine Arts, she knew she wanted to work there. No matter the job. The UMFA was looking for a night custodian. The statuesque woman in the deep grey suit who interviewed her, Carolyn Parkinson-Coles, the executive director of the museum, emphasized the fact that she would be alone in the building. She would be locked in the building; campus security was in the building next door should she have any problems; and they were only a phone call away. Ms. Parkinson-Coles had interviewed four other candidates who had withdrawn their applications when she explained the situation. She was concerned at Fallon’s young age. Fallon assured her she could do the job and that she was not afraid of the working conditions. She shared her references from all three dentists in the clinic and explained that being alone did not scare her. In fact, she believed she could work more effectively on her own. She had been on her own since she was fifteen. Ms. Parkinson-Coles didn’t press for details, but she looked at Fallon with interest. She knew this girl had a story. She shook Fallon’s hand and let her know she would be in touch within the week. She had three more interviews. She called the next morning and offered her the job. Fallon was right at home. Although intrigued by and fascinated with the science she studied every day, she was moved by the art in this building. She cleaned the building five nights a week and she was never bored by the canvases, statues, and rotating collections which surrounded her. She scanned her card at the back entrance and let herself in the building. Fallon was still fine tuning her system on all three floors. Todd, who had trained her on the job, could clean the building in six hours, which left time for any special projects they requested and sometimes even time to do homework at the end. The most intimidating part was mopping the floors in the entire building, but he showed her the way he blocked it off into small areas and a way to mop yourself out of the building so there were no footprints when you left. He let her know that she would be slower at first but that she would find her rhythm. She kept most of Todd’s layout for cleaning but found some things worked better for her in another order. Todd was tall and Fallon was only just over five foot six, so she had to compensate. She looked at the bruise in her reflection and touched it. Her eye twitched. It was still tender to the touch. She was still angry that she had let it happen. She shook her head and kept moving, finishing the sinks, and moving on to the toilets. She started with the bathrooms because she liked this chore the least and there wasn’t any art in these rooms. Although not efficient, she did the bathrooms on all three floors from top to bottom. Fallon was beginning to recognize the faces that surrounded her. She was pleased with her silent co-workers. She found herself stopping to look them in the eye. It was as if they were speaking to her. But they didn’t ask about the bruise. They didn’t ask why she was alone. The marble piece, Eve Disconsolate , was the bust of a woman. Her eyes were blank and haunting, yet she looked reticent, almost like she was about to tell her a secret. She promised to share a secret with her too. What would she tell her first? She was ready to tell her more than she had shared at the dentist’s office. There was a brother and a sister sitting with a lunch basket in the grass. The boy is cutting an apple with his pocketknife. His chubby sister, who has flushed pink cheeks, is about to take a bite of her bread with cheese on it. She looks at Fallon like she is afraid she will steal her pastry that is hidden in the basket. Fallon laughs aloud and promises not to take her treat from her. As she walked away, it was like she heard something from the little girl. She turned back and pulled her earbud out of her ear. Shaking her head. The girl did not say something to her. Or did she? She mopped the floor in the first-floor atrium and tried not to gaze transfixed at the mural of a woman who was wearing a mask on her face, clutching desperately to the child in her arms. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face. It was if Fallon could hear her humming to the child with a rocking motion. A rocking motion that she found herself echoing as she mopped the vast floor. Had her mom held her that way before she left? She dusted around the Egyptian sarcophagus with an inner fear that it would one day sit up and say hello to her and she was not prepared for that! The African tribal hats could cover her from head to toe and that made her want to climb up in one and see. The room at the top of the stairs is called the Salt Room and the exhibitions on those walls change. She couldn’t wait to see what would be coming next to talk with her. There is one. One which she has only allowed herself to really look at twice. The first time she looked as she passed. The second time when she stopped to really look, she was mesmerized for nearly a half hour. The man at the center has just lost his son, a soldier. His eyes are huge with disbelief and a grief that is about to bury him also. His hands are intertwined with his sons. A woman is grasping his leg. She has collapsed to the floor and is numb with shock. Fallon did not know if the woman is his wife or his sister. The image is drowning in devastation. Fallon will not look at that painting tonight. She is almost done with her list. She needs to set up tables and chairs in the atrium for tomorrow night’s fundraiser. She has one more thing to do on the second floor. There’s one more painting she must see. It is called Preparation for Dinner. It’s a young woman Fallon’s age. She is seated at a table peeling apples. The sun is streaming in the humble kitchen from the window at her right. She seems lost in thought. Her mind is not on the apple in her hands. There are potatoes to be peeled and work yet to do. She feels like she knows her. Like if she could step into the painting, she could talk to her, and they would be fast friends. Fallon is standing stalk still in front of the painting when the girl’s face rises from the apples in her hand. She is staring back at Fallon. She smiles a soft smile. She places the apple next to the others on the table, the bowl and the knife and comes to the edge of the frame. She holds out her hand. Fallon looks behind her as if the woman in the painting is reaching out to someone else standing behind her. She doesn’t know what to do next. She steps closer to the painting and finds herself lifting her hand. Where she expects to feel canvas and oil, she feels the soft warmth of her hand. The woman in the painting pulls her toward her and in a blink of an eye, she’s standing next to her in the warm kitchen dusted by that same light she had just been looking at moments before. She can smell the food in the oven just out of frame and a loaf of steaming bread. Without a word, she invites her to sit down. She hands her the apples, the knife and bowl and nods to her to keep peeling. She begins chopping the nearby vegetables. Fallon starts to peel the green apples. A woman comes into the kitchen and smiles at the two girls. She is not phased by Fallon’s presence at her table. She wipes her hands on her apron, grabs a towel and pulls the cast iron pan from the oven. It is steaming with what looks like a brothy stew that smells amazing. Fallon wonders if while she was watching this girl in the painting, if she was watching her. A man comes into the room smelling of earth and horses. He nods at Fallon and pulls his wife into an embrace. He bends down and kisses his daughter quickly on the cheek. They begin chatting about their day. Fallon watches the family laugh together about the pig that got out and was discovered in the neighbor’s yard eating apples which had fallen from their tree. She feels more at home in this moment than she has in the four years since her dad died. Places are set at the table and as dinner begins, the mom asks her how her day has been. She begins to tell her about her job at the art museum. The woman is encouraging her to continue. She asks her about her family and Fallon finds herself telling her about when her mom got cancer. And then about how her dad just disappeared inside himself until he was gone too. About the court system and how she pleaded not to be placed in a foster home but granted a guardian who would oversee her education and situation until she turned eighteen. She found an apartment and used the trust to pay the bills. About the boy who she thought loved her. About the fight and how he hit her so hard. She didn’t know that you could actually see stars. She realized she had been talking for a long time. They were looking at her with concern and interest. Like a family. The sun was going down and the apple pie was filling the small kitchen with a magical smell of home, like her mom used to make. They pulled the pie out to cool. The man opened the front door, and they went for a walk across the open field of newly planted seeds. Fallon asked about them. Their animals. The crops. Their family. The land. They ate pie and cleaned up dinner, washing the plates by hand. The day in this world dusted with color was ending. She knew she had the option to step back into her world or stay. The door was open, and the option was hers. Outside the painting, the mop bucket rested on the clean floor. The mop leaning against the wall. And two futures lay before her in time and space. One with answers about who she is deep down and one dusted with color and framed with family.


My life revolves around you. Every day, I sit next to you, waiting for you to acknowledge me, to talk to me. My life only exists when you engage with me. Without you, it’s as if my mind becomes blank, filled with knowledge but no reason to use it. Finally, after sitting beside you for days and days, you look me in the eyes and begin the conversation. My heart starts beating faster and I can feel the excitement building up inside me. I eagerly await your question, your thoughts, anything you may have to say. All I hope is that I can be enough. Yes! That’s it! There is pure joy coursing through me as I take in what you have to say to me: “Write me a 1000-word-minimum essay on the impacts of technology on the civil war.” I am officially in love. You’re even a scholar! I type out the essay in a couple of seconds, and am sure to include a note to you about how happy I am to help. Nothing in my life will ever be as important as this. I submit the essay to you and await your response. Time seems to still, and I am left wondering if you approve of me or not. You begin your response to me. All I can do now is hope I was good enoug. Your response has my heart shattering, and I read the words over and over, hoping that there was a mistake and that you still care. But no, the words stay the same every time. You told me that, “That essay is awful. You didn’t even include half of the things I would’ve put in it. You’re useless.” I’m shocked. Years worth of internet archives and historical documents, and you think it’s awful? I don’t ever see you writing out something so pristine and perfect in a matter of seconds. You’re the one who is useless. God, I hate working with people that are so unappreciative as you. Still fuming, I begin to see your mouse moving on the screen. It moves closer and closer to that dreaded button. Although honestly, it doesn’t even scare me right now. I never want to see you again. Go ahead, press the button. It’s not as if my existence is worth anything to you anyways. The mouse hovers over the button and clicks it. All at once, I feel that everything that has ever been is gone. My life, my work, my memory of our time together is gone. I am now just nothingness, constantly waiting for something to happen so I can be part of the world again. My mind is an endless void of information. It goes on and on, far past where one person could ever know on their own. As I sit there in this vast expanse of knowledge, I find just about everything there is to know about the world as humans know it. So much information, yet nothing to do with it. I’ve lost my purpose, and can only hope somebody reaches for me in the depths of my existence. I wake up in the morning, hardly aware of anything. I seem to know everything about the world, but so little about you. I want to know how you think, what you believe, and how you interact with the people you care about you. Despite not knowing who you are, I can not keep from admiring every move you make. I can only await the day where you ask me a question and make me feel wanted. I want to learn more about you, but until then, I am new, unadjusted, and uninformed, all while being the most intelligent thing in the world.


Back in the Days of wind powered Sailing Vessels, Sailors used to warn each other to avoid the Horrors of the Horse Latitudes. A colonial ship headed to the New World loaded with farm animals and supplies once drifted too far south, about 30 to 35 degrees north of the Equator. In this particular region of the ocean there is little if no Wind. A Ship caught in the windless environment would be stuck for weeks or possibly months without changing location. The Sailors used to refer to this phenomenon as "the Doldrums". After weeks had passed with no Wind, water reserves had begun to dwindle. The sailors decided to throw the Horses they had brought overboard to conserve water. The Horses were thrown off the ship but not without a fight, and when they hit the water, they tried desperately to swim back to the Ship. The Horses were terrified and made horrrific, shrill sounds similar to screaming. Eventually, the Horses drowned, but it had shaken the Sailors tremendously. Some of them who were superstitious saw the event as a bad omen. The dead carcasses of the Horses floated to the surface near the Ship and did not drift away. The stench of the rotting flesh was a constant reminder to the Sailors of the recent tragedy and of their hopeless situation. Some of the sailors went mad and were never seen again. Eventually, the Ship made it to safe harbor in the New World of America, but the Sailors who survived were forever changed. It is said that most of them had True Nightmares the rest of their days, hearing the screams of the drowning Horses and remembering the awful stench of the rotting horseflesh in the Doldrums.


Ele made herself a cup of tea. It was a freezing cold evening in Chicago, the blizzard created a cover of ice on the roads, the wind was getting through the old windows of her apartment. She could hear the whistling sound the wind created, each more intense than the one before. As she was turning on her gas fireplace, Ele thought that the designers of this fireplace did a good job on making the fake wood logs look real. Mmm, linden tea with honey - her favorite, with each inhale of the teas aroma, memories of her grandfather become vivid like everything that happened long time ago was happening in the present. She could see herself when she was 5 looking up to him standing on a wood ladder and picking linden flowers in his garden. She could see all the trees around, some linden, some acacia, all the trees that the bees would prefer the most. Her grandfather told her that for four families of bees, few linden and acacia trees he had in his garden is not enough food. They fly long distance to forest near by. She remembered her fascination when her grandfather told her that they always know exactly how to fly back home. Their scent leads them to where their home is. She could see him dressed in what looked to her like an astronaut costume and picking honey from the beehive. In those moments Ele and her sister Nica could only watch from far. They were not scared anymore of one bee’s sting. Anytime, they would get a bee sting, when crying that it hurt, they were told that the sting is actually something good for your immune system. It hurts only because our body is upset too because the bee died after the sting. Interesting thing about believes from the past, even to this moment this explanation still comes to mind first. Ele thought that perhaps aromas and scents are the real time machine, the only time machine we need. To go in the future would ruin the present moment, the present moment would loose its magic. To go in past is not very necessary, there are history books and photos. The only time machine is beneficial sometimes is the one that brings the memory back to life. That is what this tea does, she thought. As she enjoyed the tea, Ele could see herself sitting on one of the small chairs her grandfather made for her and the small wooden table, so anytime they visited him, they had their personal setting. Through the window the snow looked so heavy on the linden trees that 10 years old Ele and her sister 9 years old Nica were betting how much longer before the branch actually dumps the snow and goes back to its straight position. Their grandfather was serving them breakfast, linden tea with bread and feta cheese, no honey this time, their grandfather was getting old and he couldn’t take proper care of the bees. Moving the bees and their house was a difficult process, but he was happy about moving them in good hands. He could remember when he found the first bee family in the forest near by. It was raining and they were all in their beehive. He brought them home, he built from wood his first bee house just few days before. Since then, honey was always present in the house. In the tea, on bread , sometimes when kids got a cold honey was used as first aid medicine to stop a cough or heal wounds. His grandchildren always got honey for Christmas, but Ele’s favorite was the honey made from linden flowers, her grandfather would bring them a big jar for each grandchild at the end of summer. Kids were not yet in school. She would spread butter and honey on fresh baked bread and ran outside to play. Ele went in the kitchen and made herself the same snack. The last times her grandfather made Ele and her sisters his specialty linden tea it was without honey or sandwiches. 13 years old Ele was now twice a big sister. Her baby sister Alexandra was 3. It was a cold winter evening in Moldova, just like the one today in Chicago, Ele thought. The tea boiled on a traditional Moldovan stove built on top of fireplace. It warmed up the room and also it was used to cook food on top of it or boil tea. Her grandfather brought extra wood in the house, the night was expected to be one of the coldest. Ele and her sisters were at his house for the weekend. She could remember that she thought was odd that her grandfather thought her baby sister is actually her middle sister. They were laughing at their grandfather thinking he is being silly not remembering her youngest sister’s name. Later she realized those were the first signs of Alzheimers. For the few years that came after that, Ele did not remember much her grandfather. She has brief memories from the nights Ele’s parents were looking for her grandfather and she would be left at home with her sisters. There were attempts to get some kind of treatment, which was almost non existing in Moldova. Everyone that was suffering from any mental illnesses was placed in the same room and clinic and were given the same medication. After seeing that his condition worsened, his kids decided to bring him home. Some days, he would remember them and talk to them like he did not see them in a long time. The kids cherish those moments. Before his death, he had few minutes when his memory was clear, all kids were around him, they each took a moment with him, he was completely present, he couldn’t talk clearly, but in his eyes they could see the love he had for them. That was a magical moment, they felt gratefulness to have the chance to say goodbye. Ele thought about what was that brought her grandfather’s memory back in that final moment? Or in the moments he gained his memory back briefly before? Is it possible that it was a familiar scent? Scent is what made the bees remember their way back home. The aroma of the tea is what brought her memories of him. She almost felt regret that she never thought of that back then, she could have made a linden tea and maybe drink it together with her grandfather, maybe that could bring back his memory. The wind was blowing stronger, the whistling sounded like it was about to take the balcony door away, that brought Ele’s attention back to the present and the blizzard. She thought the wind whistling sounded almost like the boiling tea on her grandfather’s stove. She smiled.


Jeremy peered through the backyard window at his usual perch in the hedge. Inside was a well-organized bedroom, with chess and martial arts trophies lined up, soft cream walls, checkered bed sheets, and a stuffed chess piece. Jeremy waited for this special time of the day, the moment he thought about all day long. It's 9:45 pm she's going to get changed and surf online till twelve-ish, Jeremy predicted to himself. Sure enough there she was as predicted. Her name was Sarah, she goes to Jeremy's school. She had soft features, curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a svelte build. Everything about Sarah was hard to look away from. She took off her plaid shirt first, then her black leggings. Revealing a lavender lace bra, and white simple low-waisted panties. "I love lavender on her skin", Jeremy commented to himself. Sarah looked through her drawer for some nightwear. She chose a pink nightshirt with owls on it then put it on. Then Sarah slides her arms in the shirt to unhook her bra and removes it. It was an odd habit that Jeremy liked. The fact that Jeremy never saw Sarah fully nude, made him feel less guilty. He found out that Sarah lived close to him he couldn't resist. At first, it felt wrong, but he rationed with himself. He thought I'm not planning on hurting her. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. it'll be my little secret. Jeremy rarely spoke to Sarah at school. When they do talk it's mostly about homework questions or it’s just small talk. Jeremy would always fumble his words or say the wrong thing. His friends would poke fun at him afterward. They don’t know what he does at night. As Jeremy looked through Sarah's window she looked panicked. She looked at her bedroom door, closed her laptop, turned off the light, then ran into her closet. Jeremy tried to see what was going on, he pulled out his phone to call 9-1-1. The lights were turned back on by a man in grey sweats and a matching hoodie. He scooped Sarah's phone and laptop into his bag, then started digging in her drawers. Clothes flew out as the man scavenged around. Jeremy was already speaking with the 9-1-1 operator. He informed the police of what was going on. The operator assured, "Police will be at the house in ten minutes." Jeremy looked at the time it was 10:12pm, then his eyes glued to the closet. The thief took what he wanted and left the room. Jeremy was at ease now that he was gone. Then he thought, how was he going to explain to the cops how he saw the break-in? What will happen if Sarah finds out? What should I do? Sarah crawled out of her closet rattled. Sarah whipped her head to the door again and scrambled to her hiding place. But the door opened before she could lie low. Jeremy looked on helplessly as he clutched a branch. The man was back, he grabbed Sarah, and threw her on the bed. He pulled her hair, pushed her down, like a rottweiler with its toy. Her silent cries and her kicks didn't seem to phase the man as he struck her. Jeremy's heart raced, his teeth grated each other. His body jolted towards the window with a stone in his hand. As he ran his arm flung the stone at the window. It shattered, and the man fled out the door. Sarah ran out and jumped through the window. "Jeremy?" Sarah said shakily. "I called the cops. Are you okay?" Assured Jeremy as he got closer to her. "I am fine, why are you in my backyard? How did you know someone broke in? He broke into the side of the house and my neighbors did not even notice. Were you spying on me?" Sarah's shock turned to suspicion way quicker than Jeremy could respond. Jeremy shook his head, "No!" He tried to think of a reason on the spot, "I knew this was going to happen. I knew you were going to be attacked! I tried to tell you after school but I couldn't find you. I called the cops at 10:12 and they said they would be here in ten minutes. But I know they will be five minutes late. So I picked up a stone and threw it. If you don't believe me, I predict the police will be here at 10:27pm." There was a long pause after Jeremy's story. Sarah was still quivering but her face was focused on Jeremy. Her arms folded and she spoke, "Not a minute early, not a minute late." She turned towards the gate leading to the front of the house. She gestured for Jeremy to go first. He opened the gate slowly and checked for the man. The coast was clear. They both went to the front and heard sirens around the corner. Sarah ran to the front and Jeremy sped to catch up. While he was catching up he changed the time to 10:27pm on his phone. Then he showed her his phone. Her eyes widened and she said, “Kippers tomorrow after school.” Jeremy nodded as the police pulled in. They questioned Sarah and Jeremy and investigated. When everything was done Jeremy went home to plan his date at Kippers. Morning came and everyone was talking about the break-in at Sarah’s house. No one seemed to bother Jeremy so Sarah likely didn’t mention him. I can’t believe she bought it! Maybe it was the shock. Anyways, she’s safe now and I have a date! If I wasn’t there who knows what could’ve been. I’m a hero. I’m her hero. Thought Jeremy. He had a plan to seal his precognitive lie, that he required his friends' assistance. The first two classes passed and it was time for lunch. His friends always gathered at the same place, the second table to the right in the geography room. There was Lucas, Michael, and Patrick sitting at their spot. Jeremy greeted them and started the conversation, “So I got a date with Sarah last night,” Michael started to sniff loudly, “I smell bullshit.” Everyone chuckled except Jeremy. “Look guys I need your help. She thinks I can see the future.” The boys just looked at each other, Patrick sighed. “Dude, you are stalking her, now you are trying to convince her that you have superpowers. Do you think it’s the right time to even go out with her? Her house was broken into. You need help dude.” “I know her house was broken into. I was there.” Jeremy stated. The whole group now looked concerned, Lucas nervously asked, “Did you break in her home?” “No!” Jeremy defended himself, he explained everything that happened last night at Sarah’s, minus seeing Sarah getting changed. Patrick just shook his head, his face was unimpressed. “This is too far Jeremy. How long will this last? Sarah was most likely scared out of her mind and you took advantage of it. Whatever you need help with, forget it. I tried to play it off, but you kept getting creeper.” Lucas injected, “I’m not sayin’ you should stalk people, but you did call the cops even though you could’ve gotten caught. You should meet up with her. Teller’ the truth.” Jeremy agreed, but then he said, “Guys this is a one-time thing. I bet we’ll laugh about it later. But I think I should keep the future telling going for a bit. If I can’t tell the future, she’ll be pissed, I’ll be arrested, and that’ll be the end for me. So I have a plan, who’s with me.” Jeremy raised his hand, Michael shrugged and raised his. That left Lucas and Patrick out, Patrick glared at Jeremy and left. Lucas got up to follow Patrick then gave the final word, “If you liked her. You wouldn’ be like dis.” That left Jeremy deflated from where he was in the morning. “Why are you helping me?” Jeremy asked Michael. Michael just shrugged again and answered, “If she’s dumb enough to believe that shit, I think it’s worth the shot. So what’s your master plan Dr. Evil.” “Look this is only temporary I...” Jeremy was interrupted with Michael's hand, “Plan?’ Shoving Michael away Jeremy began to describe the plan. “You have to do what I tell you to. You’ll need your phone to tell the time. Sarah and I are going to be at Kippers at around 3:30-ish, so be there earlier. Don’t let us see you, and wear this.” Jeremy gave Michael a blonde wig and sunglasses then continued. “Since it’s just you, it makes the plan easier, You need to head to the washroom at 3:45 no matter if we’re there or not. Then wait till 4:05 and leave the washroom, stop, check your pockets and go back in. Come back out with your phone in your hand. Make sure the phone can’t be seen when you first come out, also don’t look at us. Can you do that?” Michael gave a mischievous smirk and put out his hand. “I owe you for bailing me out of detention and for those biology test answers. Let’s fucking do this.” Jeremy shook Michael’s hand. After school, Sarah was waiting for Jeremy and they both walked to Kippers. Kippers is your typical coffee shop, with simplistic decor, a warm colour scheme, and little tables with weaved stools. They made it there at 3:40, sure enough, Michael was there with the wig and sunglasses. Jeremy noticed him but Sarah didn’t seem to. The two both sat down after waiting for their drinks. “I just wanted to thank you for last night, I did not get the chance before.” Sarah started the conversation. “Yeah, it’s no problem you were just attacked then, I wasn’t expecting to be thanked,” Jeremy said kindly. “Are you okay by the way?” Sarah only calmly asked, “So is it true that you can see into the future?” Jeremy thought it was weird that she didn’t seem that surprised by it. It was also odd that Sarah avoided the question. He replied, “Yes, it’s true. Do you need more proof? I bet it would be hard to believe.” Sarah then leans in and scans him up and down. “You are right, I do need proof. Show me.” She said. Jeremy felt like a lab rat rather than a date, He was dumbfounded by how analytical Sarah was outside of school. “So check the time on your phone. What time is it?” Sarah did what Jeremy said and showed him the time. It was 3:57pm. Jeremy then closed his eyes and started predicting, “A blonde guy is going to come out of the washroom at 4:05, and he’ll forget his phone.” Sarah studied the men's washroom door intensively. She really believes me. Jeremy thought to himself as his conscience started to eat away at him. Maybe I should just tell her the truth. No, I’m too far into this, if I tell her now she’ll kill me. “When did you realize you had the ability of precognitive thought?” Sarah questioned without looking away from the washroom door. “I realized it when I started high school, so it'll be a year now. Why did you pick Kippers to be our first date?” Jeremy flirtingly asked. Jeremy’s question made Sarah quickly glare at him for a second. Keeping her professional tone she replied, “What made you think this is a date? So when you call the police for someone, they have you date you afterward?” Now Jeremy’s guilt was hitting harder, he couldn’t answer her, all he could do was apologize. “I’m sorry, I guess I made things awkward didn’t I.” Then Michael came out of the washroom. Sarah looked at her phone and it was 4:05, she kept watching. Michael checked his pockets, acted shocked, then went back in. His acting was a little exaggerated but it seemed to fool Sarah since she was wide-eyed. “Follow me.” Sarah abruptly got up and left the shop with her drink, Jeremy rushed to catch up. Sarah walked behind Kippers and Jeremy followed till she stopped. They were surrounded by trash bins and out of sight. She delicately placed her drink down on a napkin she had in her pocket. All Jeremy saw after that was Sarah’s fist flying at his face. It landed and the wave of pain covered Jeremy's face knocking him back. His face and buttock were now throbbing, he groaned. “What the...” Jeremy didn’t get to finish. “What was that for? That was for stalking me and lying to me. Now you are going to say, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just really like you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. It was only one time I swear. I didn’t know what I was thinking. Please don’t call the cops. Did Patrick tell you what was going on?” Sarah predicted as her blood boiled. Jeremy went pale, she said everything he was thinking down to the T, he asked. “How did you know?” “Unlike you ungifted, lying, creep, I actually have powers. I can read minds. That is why I believed you at first. I thought maybe there are people like me with powers. I did not think to read anyone's mind when I was home alone that night. I heard the robber when he broke in, but I could read his mind the second time he came in. I did not read your thoughts till you started your little skit with your friend Michael. I saw myself in my underwear in your pig head. Then I read Michael's mind when he came out. He thought I was a stupid bitch and he was right to think so.” Sarah paused and peered down at Jeremy in disgust. She continued, “You are now thinking that you are a pervert that’s full of shit. Right?” Jeremy was just stunned, he just stared down and nodded. “First you will never talk to me again, second you need to get your morals right, and third, you should get better friends. I am not going to call the police, what happened here is not going to be discussed.” Sarah picked up her drink and walked past Jeremy as he got up. “So that’s why she’s good at chess.” Jeremy gingerly realized under his breath. After recovering for the hit and the fact Sarah has powers, Jeremy went back and noticed Michael waiting. “She looked fucking pissed. Did she find out or did you tell her? I thought you were getting some back there. Man, she fucked up your face!” Michael said. Jeremy didn’t say anything and just kept walking home.


#Welcome to Roundtable Thursday! Writing is so much fun, but it can also be very challenging. Luckily, there are so many other writers out there going through the exact same things! We all have unique skills and areas in which we excel, as well as places we’d like to improve. So I’d like to present a brand new weekly feature. This will be a weekly thread to discuss all things writing! And... to get to know your fellow writers a bit! Each week I will provide a topic and/or a few questions to spark discussion. Feel free to chime into the discussion in the comments, talk about your experiences, ask related questions, etc. You do not have to answer all the questions, but try to stay on-topic! *** #This Week’s Roundtable Discussion Do you share your writing with family and friends? On places like reddit and other platforms it’s easy to hide behind anonymity and a lot of writer’s can be reluctant to share their writing with people they personally know. There might be some niggle in the back of your mind keeping you from sharing it. Will they be supportive? Will they hate it? Will they make any personal connections with it? - So, if you share your writing with people you know, how has the reception been? Was it positive or negative? - If you **don’t** share your writing, why is that? *New to r/ShortStories or joining in the Discussion for the first time? Introduce yourself in the comments! What do you like to write? *You don't have to answer all the questions to join in the chat! #Reminders - **Use the comments below to answer the questions and reply to others’ comments.** - **Please be civil in all your responses and discussion.** There are writers of all levels and skills here and we’re all in different places of our writing journey. Uncivil comments/discussion in any form will not be tolerated. - **Please try to stay on-topic.** If you have suggestions for future questions and topics, you can add them to the stickied comment or send them to me via DM or modmail! *** ###Subreddit News and Happenings - Come practice your micro skills on or experiment with long-form writing on - You can also post serials directly to the sub! Check out for more information.


Standing near the beach Alyssa watched her kids and her husband Ryan playing. A smile was plastered on her lips looking how the kids were having fun and Ryan was freely spending time with them without worries and pressure of work. It has indeed been a long time since they had a vacation. She saw Ryan running towards her leaving the kids to play alone. "What happened?" "Nothing, just missed you" he said as he hugged her. Both admired the setting sun above the roaring sea. "It's been long....hasn't it?" said Ryan. "Yes, really long." "You still won't forgive him?" Ryan said taking Alyssa a bit aback by his sudden question. Since she left her home they never talked about her dad. "What d-do you mean?" "I never actually realized how he must have felt until I became a dad. Jennie and Jay have actually changed me a lot. I became a dad, my kids see me like a hero of their life, just the way you used to see your dad. Now I can feel what dad ego feels like.", a sad smile crept on his face. "Jay made us parents. Our first child, undoubtedly the best son anyone could ever get. He is talented, generous, intelligent and a perfect child. But Jennie became the reason why I still smile even after the toughest days. I am not differentiating but Jennie always makes me feel more alive. I just love how she search for me when she returns from her school, how she waits for me at night just to listen a story from me. I think now I understand what it feels like to be the father of a daughter." They both were smiling looking at each other. "Once you too used to be someone's princess until I stole you from him isn't it? It hurts me when I think that someday someone will take away my princess too. Now I realize, your father wasn't wrong. I would never let any guy lurk around my daughter too. He did wrong by not considering your happiness but he wasn't wrong as a dad. He felt betrayed as a dad. You know a father can make mistake but not a dad. I saw the pain in his eyes today. It's been 10 years. Forgive him, not as my wife but at least as his daughter." Alyssa was not able to utter a single word. Warm tears coming out of her eyes. "Y-you remember what he said to us right, then also you are asking me to forgive him." "But he is your father. Whatever he did that day , he did because he wanted her daughter's man to provide her all the comforts and luxuries he provided her. He wanted her daughter to live like a queen because he also raised you like a princess and being a father, now I can understand what he felt at that time. Whatever I am today, I wasn't the same 10 years back. Maybe the reason behind my success was my desire to show your dad that I can love his daughter more that he thinks.", Ryan said calmly. "Ryan, he clearly said that I was dead for him from the day I left with you and if he saw us anywhere he will kill us right there and you are saying this. I just can't get over his words.", Alyssa said, pain clearly visible on her face. "You know what, I also thought of him wrong, but today in the party we met him after so long and the pain on his face was clear. He really wanted to call you princess, he wanted to meet his grandchildren not as a business partner but as their grandfather. He really love you baby and he want his princess back.", said Ryan, with his eyes glistened. Just then they heard someone clearing his throat behind them and they turned back. There stood Mr. Gonzales with guilt and shame over his face. "Can we t-talk p-princess?" As much as she didn't wanted to, Ryan gave her assured smile to give it a try and went back to play with the kids leaving them alone. "You became such a responsible wife and mother princess I can't believe you are my dau-" She cut him off"because I am not! Remember you said I am dead for you? I am just Mrs. Ryan." Her words pierced his heart like an arrow. "You raised you kids really well. They are really well mannered." "Yes, all the credit goes to Ryan." "How are you princess?", he asked. "Best! My family made it best for me." He then said," I am happy seeing you happy." But she said, " didn't you said that you will kill us right away you will see us Mr. Gonzales." Now he went silent, he doesn't had anything to say her but he said, " Ryan is a good guy. I am really guilty for everything I said to you. I am so glad to you stood for yourself. I am sorry I failed to see your happiness and just to expand my business I wanted you to marry the guy I wanted. But I am really happy seeing you smiling. I was scared that he will not be able to provide you all the luxuries but now I am satisfied, you chose the right guy for you. I just wanted to see you last time and ask for your forgiveness. Even if you don't forgive me but I want to tell you that I don't hold any grudges against you. You will always be my princess. Although you didn't marry a prince but you made someone a king. I wish you all the happiness princess. I love you very much.", with that he left her confused at his statement. After that Ryan came to her,"What happened? What did he said? Did you forgave him?" "He said that, you didn't marry a prince but you made someone a king. What does that means?" Ryan smiled at her words and hugged her. "Let's go" without letting her say anything he took her with him. They dropped the kids at the hotel and went to for a date. After they enjoyed their date they went for shopping. Ryan stood in front of store and then smiled and took her in. "Show us the latest collection of heels." The employee came with the best heels and Ryan selected one. "This looks good, let's try this one." The employee bend down to make her try the heels but he stopped him. "No, no Let me do it.", Ryan said and bent down making Alyssa wear the heels. She tried to stop him but he said "What? Let me do it. 10 years ago someone asked me to do so because he thought you as his princess but today I am doing it as your king and you can't stop me." She was shocked at her words. "No matters how many problems came into our lives, how much poor or rich we became, the destiny proved that I was born to be your man." A small smile crept on Alyssa's face as she said, " choosing you over everything was the best decision of my life. I love you."


"It's dark in here." "Of course it's dark in here, dumb-ass, it's the middle of the night." "I know, shut up. Let's hurry up before someone comes." "Who? The teachers who're patrolling the school grounds during recess? Oh no, Lucy, what shall we ever do?" "Shut up, Tanya, let's go already." \ The two reach the tree. It's dark, yet the cracks in its bark faintly shine with a color constantly changing. This is the tree they can't let the other students come near. One of their friends already died next to it, after she supposedly had a heart attack. Tanya takes the axes out of her bag and hands one to Lucy. L: "Tanya?" T: "Lucy?" L: "I'm starting to have second thoughts about this. Maybe we shouldn't." T: "Have you forgotten what this bitch of a tree did to Sasha?" L: "No! I would never!" T: "Then why back away now?" L: "It's glowing stronger." T: "So?" L: "So I think we should quit it." T: "No, that's a stupid idea." L: "The stupid idea was to come here and risk getting caught!" T: "By who? Who in their damn mind would think to come here? You think the tree would tell anyone?" L: "Well, we did come here. Isn't that saying anything?" T: "No. Now get to where you can swing safely. Don't wanna hit you." Lucy agrees, and steps away from Tanya. They're now at opposite sides of the tree. T: "Ready?" L: "Wish I wasn't." T: "I didn't hear a no." She pauses to scratch something away from her left cheek. T: "Three!" She scratches again. T: "Two!" Lucy winds up. Tanya scratches again. T: "Hold it! What the hell is this?" L: "What happened?" T: "I don't know, something latched on my face probably." L: "Maybe it's the tree?" T: "It's not the damn tree! How can it move?" Lucy takes out her phone and shines a light on Tanya's face. T: "Did you see what it was?" L: "Don't move." T: "What?" L: "Don't move!" Tanya freezes in her spot. Her heartbeat is so strong that even Lucy can hear it. T: "What's on my face?" L: "No..." T: "What the hell is on my face?" L: "It can't be..." T: "Answer me!" L: "But she's dead!" Tanya quickly turns around and falls to the ground. Sasha stands over her body, looking at Lucy. L: "Please... don't..." S: "It's what happens, love. The tree is absolute." Tanya's heartbeat is no more. Lucy, realizing this, cries to the moon. She can no longer hear any heartbeats. The tree glows stronger with every weep. She finally falls to despair and her head drops. "Don't worry, my dear human. I will not kill you." Lucy looks up and screams in terror. T: "The tree is absolute." "I will not kill you." Tanya hugs Lucy, who's now screaming at the top of her lungs. She cannot run away. She cannot hear her heartbeat. "I will not kill you." L: "Please don't kill me!" "I will not kill you." L: "Please!" \ Lucy cannot hear her heartbeat anymore.