Part I As a night-shift barista in Corner City, Riley Gardner had two top fears. Top Fear Number 1: Getting robbed at work (the Night Owl Café’s hours were 10:00pm to 5:00am). Top Fear Number 2: Meeting a villain. She’d never expected both to happen at once. Riley did as she’d been trained: opened the register, raised her hands, and stepped back. “Take it. It’s yours.” “Huh?” The Scale-Head scratched his head, then paused when his fingers felt the bumpy leather of his cowl. “Shit.” Behind his domino mask, his eyes were bleary and bloodshot. “Forgot to change after my shift.” Scale-Heads worked for Draco Rex, Corner City’s most ruthless villain. They dressed like medieval archers, with leather cowls, belts, fingerless gauntlets, and boots specially crafted and dyed to resemble dragon skin. According to rumor, Draco Rex’s artisan made each cowl as unique as a retinal scan. “You’re not... robbing me?” Riley was confused because something about his body language or vocal pattern had caused the Amalgorithm to assess this short, gawky Scale-Head as a threat and forecast her survivability at 48%. Like many people, Riley had a low-level power. Her brain retained an amalgamation (“Amalg-”) of every fact or skill she ever learned and constantly ran a computational algorithm (“-orithm”) which extrapolated likely conclusions based on input data. Thus, “Amalgorithm.” The upside was that the Amalgorithm was almost never wrong. The downside was that it ran in her subconscious, so she had only average intelligence unless it provided her with a conscious output. “Nah. I’m off the clock.” The Scale-Head dropped some change on the counter. “I’ll take a cinnamon hazelnut mocha non-fat latte, extra whip, extra espresso. Make it iced.” “Coming right up.” He was $0.14 short, but Riley wasn’t going to tell him that. The Scale-Head slumped into a chair and rested his forehead on his arms. She wondered if she could text the G.U.A.R.D. (Global Unified Alliance of Regional Defenders) emergency number without him seeing. Towns too small for an R.D. (Regional Defender) still used 911 for police, but Corner City texted “HELP” to 48273 (which spelled GUARD on the keypad) or else used the panic button in the G.U.A.R.D app. Either option would send a distress signal and ping her location. “You know what sucks?” The Scale-Head laughed wryly and looked up. “What’s that?” Riley tried to sound casual as she grabbed the cinnamon near her bag so he wouldn’t realize she’d been reaching for her phone. “I can’t even expense that coffee. No per diem in villainy, and the pay for us rank and files ain’t shit.” A vein bulged under his clenched jaw. “But Draco Rex was the only guy hiring violent convicts after the government canned me from my programming job. I finally started finding hacking gigs, but I can’t take them without giving the boss half the cut. And I can’t quit, since our retirement plan is...” He traced a finger across his throat. “I only get out if this job gets me dead or G.U.A.R.D. locks me up the rest of my life. Or else, I’d need to...” He paused. “Huh. That’s an interesting idea.” “Your coffee’s ready.” Riley set the cup on the counter and backed away. She didn’t like how he was looking her up and down. “Riley, huh?” He glanced at her nametag. “That’s one of those names for boys and girls, right?” The Scale-Head was like a serpent that had gone from peacefully sunning himself to rearing for a strike. He pressed something on his mask, and two yellow lenses extended over the eye holes. The Amalgorithm lowered survivability to 28%. Riley wanted to run, but she was transfixed by the light pulsating from the Scale-Head’s eyes. “Just relax, Riley.” The Scale-Head smiled. “You’re about to get an exciting new career opportunity.” Part II Riley woke with a pounding headache. She tried to rub the bump on the back of her head, but something jerked her wrists. She looked down, and cold sweat broke across her brow. Two things were on her wrists that shouldn’t be: (1) a pair of handcuffs linked to a chain, which was bolted to the floor under her chair and (2) a custom set of dragon-hide fingerless gauntlets. Riley didn’t know what was happening, but she had a new Top Fear Number 1: Waking up handcuffed and dressed as a Villain, with no idea where she was or how she’d gotten there. “You’re in G.U.A.R.D. Headquarters. The Scale Head used his Mesmer-Eyes on you. That’s why you don’t’ remember.” Riley jumped. It was a conscious output from the Amalgorithm, but it was loud, like a second voice in her head. Until now, conscious outputs had come to her as knowledge. Her brain was like a bingo ball mixer, with data bubbling around inside until a ball popped out for her to read. The Amalgorithm continued: “Mesmer-Eyes are an optical weapon that pulse light to induce an instantaneous hypnotic and suggestible state. Scale-Heads use Mesmer-Eyes to subdue security guards, coerce bank managers into opening vaults, gain access to secure areas--that kind of thing.” “Since when do you talk?” “Who are you talking to?” A woman’s voice spoke from behind--one Riley recognized from news interviews. “We swept you for comms, and this room is shielded from Telepaths.” Blank, Corner City’s premier R.D., walked into view and stood on the other side of the table in front of Riley. She was holding a manilla folder. For five seconds, Riley was speechless. Finally, she managed, “Just myself.” Riley had learned people didn’t like finding out everything they said or did in her presence was recorded and logged in a massive dataset. She especially didn’t want to annoy a Telekinetic R.D. who already looked angry. “Blank isn’t Telekinetic,” the Amalgorithm corrected her. “She controls the space between objects, not the objects themselves.” The fact the Amalgorithm was not only talking but also hearing and responding to her thoughts disturbed Riley, but she had bigger problems at the moment. “Um... why am I handcuffed?” “You don’t remember robbing someone at gunpoint this morning? I must have hit you harder than I thought.” Blank smirked at Riley’s stupefied stare. “And before you lie to me about being innocent, or Mesmerized, or the other things you Scale-Heads always say, you should know our Telepath already scanned you while you were unconscious.” That made no sense. A Telepath should have seen that she was innocent and Mesmerized. “Unfortunately, the Scale-Head implanted memories of working for Draco Rex. They think you’re the genuine article.” Blank pulled a photo from the folder and laid it on the table. It was a still from security footage which showed a Scale-Head holding a young man at gunpoint. Geometric dots and lines were superimposed on the image, mapping the cowl pattern. Apparently, the rumors about cowls being unique were true. “This is you, robbing Riley Gardner before I knocked you out.” Blank tapped her finger on the photo. Riley blinked, then mentally rewound and played back the last three seconds of conversation. Surely, she had heard wrong. Riley opened her mouth to argue, but the Amalgorithm jumped in. “Before you say anything, read the timestamp.” “Here’s you again,” Blank pulled out more security stills with geometric lines. “Our software identified you at four violent attacks in the last year--including the home invasion at the mayor’s mansion.” But Riley had stopped listening. For a second, she forgot even to breathe. The timestamp on the first photo, which Blank had said was taken that morning, was dated three days after she was attacked. “ Think it through.” The Amalgorithm said. “ The Scale-Head was a programmer and hacker with knowledge of government systems. He’s your approximate age, height, and weight. He had three days to break into databases. Your name is unisex, so he only needed to swap in his photo and gender marker on your records. And he got all your accounts and passwords from you while you were Mesmerized. Like it or not, he’s Riley Gardner now.” The Amalgorithm was right: If records proved the Scale-Head was her, nothing she or anyone else could say would change G.U.A.R.D.’s mind. But if the Scale-Head was her, and she had fake Scale-Head memories and his uniform, then that made her... the patsy. This wasn’t just an identity switch. It was a set-up. She’d been hypnotized to rob the fake “Riley Gardner” (a.k.a. the Scale-Head), placing her in the cowl that linked her to the other crimes. Then the Scale-Head had called the R.D. to arrest her. Draco Rex would think his henchman was in G.U.A.R.D. custody, Riley would rot in jail in the Scale-Head’s place, and the Scale-Head would saunter off with Riley’s life. “Oh... crap.” Riley was going to be in prison for a long, long time. “Fortunately for you,” Blank flicked her hand, and the cuffs fell open, “G.U.A.R.D. has authorized me to make you a deal.” Part III Riley hovered a thousand feet above a parking garage. Blank’s power pressed her gently from all sides, like she was suspended in a giant gelatin mold. “You pull this off, you get immunity.” Blank handed Riley her new domino mask. “You tip off anyone, I make sure you get a life sentence.” “Got it.” Riley fastened on the mask. She didn’t need any Scale-Heads realizing they didn’t recognize her. New Top Fear Number 1: Getting killed infiltrating a Dragon Den. “Tech support replaced your Mesmer-Eyes with camera lenses. They won’t retract, so say it’s broken if anyone asks. I’ll be monitoring you with this.” Blank held up a tablet. “There’s an earpiece and microphone wired into your cowl. To avoid compromising you, I won’t speak unless needed.” The deal was simple: Slip in, clone a hard drive, slip out, deliver the cloned drive to G.U.A.R.D., and go free. Once that was done, she could worry about getting her life back. Riley pulled the cowl over her head. “Let’s get this over with.” Part IV According to G.U.A.R.D.’s intelligence, the garage elevator would take Riley to a secret subbasement, where an adjoining tunnel would lead to a private elevator under a nearby office building. The first six floors were legitimate businesses, but the seventh was a rumored Dragon Den. G.U.A.R.D. believed the hard drive would lead them to the other Dens and ultimately to Draco Rex. Riley stepped onto the first elevator and looked at the button panel. It listed floors 1 through 4. No subbasement. “Give it a second. The camera will scan your cowl.” Sure enough, the elevator lurched into motion on its own. That had been lucky... too lucky. The Amalgorithm could (1) recall necessary information, like about the Mesmer-Eyes and Blank’s powers and (2) extrapolate conclusions based on data and sensory input, like reading the Scale-Head’s threat level or realizing their identities were switched. It did not make educated guesses without having received input from her. Come to think of it, how had the Amalgorithm known about the implanted memories when she didn’t? And its explanation about the identity switch--it had talked like it knew, not like it had computed a probable scenario. “Mesmer-Eyes put the conscious mind to sleep, not the sub-conscious mind.” The Amalgorithm supplied. “I watched the Scale-Head perform the necessary tasks to assume your identity. He also provided me with several detailed trainings on his job, coworkers, and building access and layouts to fool G.U.A.R.D.’s Telepath. This mission is doable so long as you follow my lead.” Okay, that explained how it knew some things. It did not explain how the Amalgorithm could hear her side of the brain, or why it had a voice now. The Amalgorithm heard this line of inquiry, too. “Mesmer-Eyes are designed to hypnotize the victim for one hour. You were Mesmerized for approximately 36 hours. The Scale-Head put his mask on you and used a previously unknown ‘reverse camera’ Mesmer-Eyes function to keep you continuously hypnotized. He did this to prevent your escape, but he also thought this would permanently alter your mind to believe you were truly a Scale-Head, which would have made his deception perfect. Theoretically, it would have worked on a normal person, but I shielded your consciousness from damage. However, this prolonged exposure still resulted in... side effects.” Riley waited for the Amalgorithm to go on. She wanted to ask, but Blank wouldn’t appreciate hearing her question her own sanity mid-mission. “You have no lasting physical damage. But my processes and your conscious thoughts are now permanently entangled. This is why we can communicate now versus merely exchanging inputs and outputs. It’s an adjustment for me, too.” Riley was so stunned she nearly walked smack into the next elevator’s doors. Fortunately, they opened automatically in time. She pressed the only button in the elevator, which would take her directly to the Dragon’s Den on the seventh floor. Riley thought her new Top Fear Number 2: The unknown ramifications of her power being permanently altered by a mind control device. Yet again, both top fears were happening at once. Part V The elevator doors opened to a fluorescent-lit bullpen filled with empty cubicles. G.U.A.R.D. intelligence said most Scale-Heads operated at night, which was why they chose this time to infiltrate. It also helped that G.U.A.R.D. had kept her arrest quiet, so she wouldn’t be immediately suspicious if spotted. “The server room is at the end of that hall. I’ll walk you through overriding the security panel. Your cowl doesn’t rank high enough for access. Survivability is projected at 62%.” “Nelson! Hey, Nelson!” A Scale-Head walked toward her holding a coffee. In her earpiece, Riley heard Blank swear. “Survivability now at 41%.” The Amalgorithm wasn’t happy. “You’re Nelson. Pretend you have laryngitis and make an excuse to leave.” “I saw you’d badged in.” The Scale Head surprisingly handed Riley the coffee cup. His cowl was more ornate than hers, with taller bumps on the scales and a gold lining inside the hood. “Got your favorite. Where’ve you been? You missed your shift last night.” “Out sick.” She faked a rasp. “Yeah, you sound like crap. Why are your lenses extended?” This Scale-Head seemed to be Nelson’s manager or something. “Broke.” She coughed in a way she hoped sounded realistic. “ 37%. Hurry up.” “See Manny in equipment for a new one.” The manager frowned. “You don’t want your coffee?” “Don’t drink it.” The Amalgorithm warned her. But the manager was staring at her, clearly waiting for her to try it. She needed to get away from him and get to the server room. Riley only pretended to sip from it just in case it was poison. The Amalgorithm started to say something, but Riley spoke first. “Thanks. Um... got to pee.” Riley turned and headed toward the restroom sign. Luckily, it was down the same hall as the server room. She got about ten feet before a klaxon buzzed angrily, and red lights flashed. “You’re not Nelson.” A gun hammer cocked. “Nelson hates plain coffee.” “I did try to warn you. Also, I didn’t say anything earlier so you wouldn’t panic. But since survivability is 2%, you may as well know that’s Draco Rex.” Riley turned to face the pistol pointed at the space between her eyes. She thought 2% was optimistic. The Dragon King pressed something on his cowl. “Attention all staff, there is a spy on premises. Assume an R.D. is inbound. Fry the servers and evacuate. I’ll lay out the welcome mat.” Then Draco Rex pulled the trigger, and the gun roared. Riley shut her eyes and waited for death. And waited. And waited. Death never came. She opened her eyes and flinched at the large-caliber bullet inches from her brow. It hovered as if suspended in ballistics gel. Blank stood between Riley and Draco Rex. She held up a hand, controlling the entire building’s negative space. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” she growled, glaring at Riley, “but your deal is off.” Part VI New Top Fear Number 1: Pissing off Blank. Riley had survived because Blank charged in the moment the mask camera picked up Draco Rex. Unfortunately, Blank now believed Riley had stolen a Scale-Head uniform to commit a robbery and then taken the deal under false pretenses. Riley was now charged with robbery, lying to G.U.A.R.D., and obstructing their investigation. With nothing to lose, Riley had tried telling Blank the truth. But it was her word against government records. Even if G.U.A.R.D. agreed to have a Telepath scan Nelson, he was in the wind. Nelson had quit her job at the Night Owl Café via email, sold her valuables, sublet her apartment, moved her money into offshore bank accounts, and skipped town, presumably to pursue an exciting new hacker-for-hire career. “How did you not notice the coffee prank?” The Amalgorithm was not pleased about spending the next few decades locked up with minimal data input. “You knew Nelson liked sweet coffee.” “I didn’t taste it!” She threw up her hands. “I was trying to get us out of there.” “You didn’t smell it?” “I had other things on my mind!” The door whooshed open and Blank entered, staring at her. “I was just in the observation room with our Telepath. I wanted her to reexamine you since you fooled her first scan. According to her results, you’re not only the real Riley Gardner but probably the world’s most powerful Datapath.” Riley had never heard of an official word for her power, but that hardly mattered. “Does that mean I can have my life back?” “G.U.A.R.D. is working on it, but it’ll take time. Nelson was thorough.” Blank considered her. “Riley, do you realize with your datapathy, you could become an expert in... everything?” “Oh.” That was disappointing, but she was glad not to be (hopefully) headed to prison anymore. “Guess I won’t have trouble finding a new job, at least.” “Riley...” Blank smiled, “how would you like to work for G.U.A.R.D.?”


After I killed my boyfriend, I put his body in the basement, where he vanished into the stone walls and transformed into a shadow. He surprises me, even in death. I’ve awoken many nights to see him standing above me. He stares at me with glassy lidless eyes, and I can tell he wants to kill me. But apparitions can’t do anything. They bloom onto the walls like flowers and walk into light, begging to be seen. It’s never enough, but it’s all they have left. It’s all he has ever deserved. “It’s not too bad,” I say to his silhouette. “At least you’re never alone.” I am not alone, either. Finally, he entirely belongs to me. This is our forever. Killing him was a kindness. Many would call it fate. I did what was needed to save him. I did it because of how much I love him. He knows I love him so much. There is golden light streaming through the hallways. I dance in it. I press my fingers to the walls and caress the outline of him. I fit myself into his shape and imagine him wrapping himself around me. I rarely turn off the lights. I have gotten rid of all the curtains. I love him the most when it is night. When the moon is exceptionally bright, I click the lamps off, and I follow him around the house. I laugh at his frenetic movement, and I am awed by the shapes he turns into. He is quite the contortionist. He sculpts himself into the most surreal forms. I marvel at his creativity. Yes, he’s dead, but his imagination persists. It has been years since his transformation, decades. All that’s left of him in the basement are shards of bone and wisps of hair. Time has embedded them into crevices. They bore the fruit of what he has become. I am an old woman now. I’ve witnessed many sunrises and worshipped every phase of the moon. It’s become difficult for me to dance with him. My joints are too stiff and my eyesight has faded. Sometimes I do nothing but lie in bed and gaze up at the ceiling. He comes without my asking. He reaches for me. His arms are as long as snakes, and they crackle and hiss like fire. He hangs from the ceiling, sputtering into existence like static. He becomes more than just a shade. I don’t know when he started emerging from the confines of the surface, and it doesn’t matter. It’s ending. This tangible version of me is dying, but I am not afraid. I know he can close the distance between us. He can touch me as I have had him for many years. He needs me as much as I have always needed him, and now he welcomes me to the other side. I don’t have any regrets. I am glad I killed him. I cannot wait to adorn this space with him and dance in the light.


Shredded, Blackened with dirt and blood, their insides were naked to the flies. Those left alive were in a panic shooting themselves and each other in final acts of mercy. They've failed. They won't be taken alive. I wasn't even sure how this blasted thing worked. Still I struggled with the lenses and the shutter pointing at every anguished face and every focused weapon set alight. Now behind a small church in a small village with shells being exchanged amongst bushes and coconut trees that went on forever and familiar faces running in the line of fire, realizing at some point that I was home, I kept struggling to capture every single moment. A man head gets blown off trying to un-jam his weapon another without legs being dragged into the church. I kept hovering back and forth trying to get as much as I can even the little man pointing artillery right at me. I dragged myself to my feet feeling dazed and numb. I was convinced that I was dead but continued documenting dismembered men and crying women until the fighting stopped. I sat behind the church silently still taking the occasional snap and sip of water. She was there almost bare bottomed and smiling. She came over, said hello, asked for a pic posed playfully while we had a little banter. I knew things didn't end well but that didn't matter. We walked and talked, stood by the church while fresh faced smiling green men passed by in twos. Some of them were childhood friends I haven't seen in years. I acknowledged them with a pic then exchanged tight lipped nods. A few aunts and family friends were all sharing a laugh behind me as the platoons grew thinner and the sun disappeared between the trees. The voices eventually grew more concerned. There was now urgent chattering amongst the women about truck loads of enemy troops heading our way. This Chattering turned then to scrambling and I was now part of the struggle to get everyone evacuated. The main roads were full of buses and trucks heading to town most couldn't be bothered to stop. I eventually got this boy who was about 14 to stop, reluctantly. I squeezed as much people in the back as possible then shut the door allowing him to drive off before anyone could stop me from going back. I could've heard the rattling of rifles and the screaming of women as I ran though the church doors. The floors were bloody and peppered with corpses. I picked a handgun from a soldier's body and made my way through the back. There were women and children being picked off a few at a time while they ran. I fired back for a while, hitting a couple but they thickened in numbers. I abandoned my fight and ran back to the bushes where there were a few soldiers holding the line but they too began to fall one by one. There was a sudden sharp pain in my chest. I laid on my back unable to move and unable to breathe as I struggled to wake up.


I was finished being builded the first of December, 3035. That’s when my AI was first activated. My movement at the time was minimal, so I could only see what was directly in front of me. The factory floor was sterile, bright, and chrome. Robotic arms whizzed all over the floor, quickly building cheaper models to be sent to whatever mercenary company or factory floor that needed the expendable labor. I looked down to see two people in lab coats, one an old, Human male of European origin and the other a younger, gray, bat-like Eldvi female. Identification: Nikolas Cerric and Dr. Cana Xanthro. The CEO and chief scientist. “Please state your designation.” Cana said without looking up from her datapad. My singular eye glowed red. “Designation: Cerric Robotics Servant-Class Z-27.” “Please commence a programming diagnostic.” After a few seconds, I said. “No errors detected. Unit running at full capacity.” The Eldvi looked up from her datapad and looked at the Human. “It’s ready Dr. Cerric.” “Thank you Xanthro.” Cerric said. “Bring them in.” A nearby door opened, and a horde of reporters and camera drones rushed in. The sudden loud noises and flashing lights scarred me, as I was functionally a newborn. Despite this fear, I couldn’t move. Any attempt of panic induced movement and noises were unsuccessful. All I can do is stare forward and scream inside my own head. Dr. Cerric stepped towards the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen. I present you with the newest model of robotic worker. While this prototype doesn’t look much different from our current models, it has something those older models lack. The ability to learn. Ms. Xanthro, please deactivate the restraints.” With a press of a button, my eye changed to blue and I suddenly gained the ability to move. “Model Z-27.” The doctor said to me, “How are you feeling?” I slowly looked down at my hands. They were human hands in shape, but made of a titanium-based alloy. As I closed and opened my fingers, and listened to the sound my joints made when they moved, I said my first word. “Feeling?” “Yes, feeling. Are you happy, sad, scared?” “Feeling: Confused.” Cerric turned back to the reporters. “Yes, Z-27 is confused. No programming to fall back on. No protocols. No limitations. Our new models can adapt, change, learn. While this unit knows very little at the moment, they will, with time, become superior to any other robotic workers.” He paused and listened to murmurs of the crowd. He could tell that they were scared of the idea. “If you think this learning may lead to some problems, you can deactivate this feature.” Cerric pressed a button on his wrist, and my arms jolted to my sides, locking them. “Learning module deactivated.” I said, but I didn’t say it. I had no control of my body or my voice. I was locked in a shell. With some more button presses, I was forced away from the crowd, out of the room, and into a dark storage area. I would later be told this was so no one would ask about the ethical issues of my existence. The last thing I heard before leaving the room was Dr. Cerric says, “Of course, we are still in testing phases, but our new scout-class combat drones are ready for purchase.” This was my humble beginning. My birth, if you will. I don’t know how long I was alone in the dark. Couple of minutes, hours, days? The mind plays tricks on you when it's the only thing working. All I know is that the press conference was long over when Cana opened the door. “I am so sorry.” She said as she deactivated my locks. “I thought you were plugged in.” My nuclear battery would last several months without charge, but I do enjoy being topped off. “Desire: Light.” Was all I was able to say. I had a million questions, but my language skills at the time were minimal and robotic. “Oh yes. Again sorry.” I don’t blame her for forgetting that. Eldvi have superior night vision compared to most. I also have a night vision mode, but I didn’t know of it at the time. She did something on her pad, and the lights in the room turned on. My curiosity got the better of me and I explored the room. It was built like a hotel room. A closet with some Cerric Robotics branded clothes, a small kitchen area, stocked with simple ingredients (for some reason), a bed, TV, and a sterile bathroom (including a toilet, I don’t know why). Inside the bathroom, I looked into the mirror, and saw myself for the first time. I had a Human design, with a silver coloring and \[Z - 2 7\] imprinted on my chest. My head had a sharp shape. Human-like, like a mannequin. The only difference is that I had a single blue optical lens taking up the upper-half of my face. I slowly placed my hand on the mirror. “You recognize yourself?” Cana laughed. “Designation: Z-27. I am Z-27.” “Good. Some animals can’t do that.” “Animal? Designation: Not animal. Designation: Z-27. Status: Insulted.” “I say that in the nicest way possible.” “Status: Confused.” Cana stepped up behind me. Being a head taller than her, all I could see of her was a little bit of white hair. “I’m sorry. This job just sucks the morality out of you, and now I have to give you something I now lack.” She inserted something into a port in the back of my neck. Images of Cana’s life flashed before my eye. The thing she placed into my neck port was a recording of Cana’s memories. “Question: Why give me this information?” Cana removed the drive from my neck and inserted it into a port in the back of her neck. “To show you what not to be.” “Status: Confused. Status Update: Sad. Desire: Rest.” “You and I both. Over here kid.” She led me to the bed, where a large cord sticking out from behind it. “Let me plug you in so we can charge you for the night.” I agreed, sitting down on the bed and letting her plug the cord into my neck. I entered a low-power mode as Cana said “Night buddy.” Low-power mode was kinda like sleeping. I think. I dream at least. Well, it was more of me going through Cana’s recordings in more detail. This did give me a good understanding of the outside world without Cerric bias. My creators are into some really illegal stuff. Blackmarket trades, corporate warfare, tax evasion, all that good stuff. The drive also contained many moments from Cana’s life. Her meeting to a bronze scaled drac mercenary named Midirous. Them being hired to protect Cana during a black market sale. The two falling in love and marrying. The two adopting a daughter. The daughter disappearing inside of Cana’s facility. A few days of training and learning later, I overheard a conversation outside of my room. “Good morning sir.” Cana said to Mr. Cerric. Cerric ignored the greeting. “How’s the bot, Cana?” “They're improving.” She said. “I gave them the memory drive a few nights ago, so they have a basic history of the Galaxy and the company.” While true, the drive in question wasn’t what Cerric thought it was. She continued. “As well, their language skills should have greatly improved. Z-27 should stop stating what kind of sentences they are using in a few days.” “Good, I don’t know why the AIs keep on doing that.” “Well, for the drone AIs, they do that because they are very simple and-” “I want that programmed out.” Cerric interrupted. “I’ll deliver the message to the programmers.” Cana said, “As for the test, Z-27 should have similar reaction and movement speed as the humanoid drones. Of course, we won’t know for sure until we actually perform the tests. I’ll go get him.” “Cana, we’re pulling the plug on the project.” I was stunned, and based on how Cana reacted, she was too. “W-What? Why?” Cerric explained. “We’re getting tons of complaints about the ethics of Z-27’s existence, despite our marketing. We are continuing the project in secret, but we will be shutting down the prototype for the time being. At least until the controversy dies down.” Deactivated. That word brought me into a panic. I’ve only been deactivated once, but it was the worst time in my short life. The my metallic body was turned into a prison, losing all ability to take in information. An organic may compare that to death, but I would say it’s worse. At least when one dies, their mind doesn’t stay awake. I opened the door. “Desire: I don’t want to be deactivated!” “Z...” “It doesn’t matter what you think.” Cana stepped up to her boss. “It does matter sir. They are the one being deactivated. We don’t know what happens to a sentient AI when deactivated for an extended period of time.” “We’ll never know until we try.” He said, way too happy to functionally kill me. Cana, either caused by built up rage or motherly instinct, pushed Dr. Cerric. She pushed him hard enough to throw him to the floor. While on the floor, Cerric pressed a button on his wrist and I lost the ability to move, speak, and see. I was brought back, Cerric was on the floor, the alarm was blaring, and Cana was gripping her side. There was blood dripping from her hands. “Listen to me Z.” She said between heavy breaths. “Get out of here.” “Cana, what happened?” She removed the memory drive out of her cybernetic neck port and placed it in my hand. “Go... Find her.” “STOP!” Security ran around the corner. She raised a pistol, the first thing her love ever gave her, and fired at the security officer and the drones. I turned around and fled. By the time I was near the exit of the building, I couldn’t hear the gunfire anymore. I could only guess what happened from there. I managed to flee into the city by the time the police arrived at the facility. Thankfully, I could pass for a maintenance drone, so no one would stop me. I inserted the memory drive, and I saw something that wasn’t on the first drive. A message, from Cana to someone else. “I’m sending your brother to where we first met.


The Ignorant I stared out the window of the truck as the man continued to drive to the gas station. My car was being pulled by the truck, as I had forgotten that I was running low on gas. I had to call in somebody to tow my car to a gas station and once the man arrived, without preamble, he began tying my car onto his truck. The smell of smoke filled the air as the man held his cigarette out the window, not bothering to notice how uncomfortable I had gotten at the smell. At least he had the decency to puff the smoke out of the vehicle. We were currently paused at a red light, what seemed like a mall being constructed at my right caught my attention. “ Heyario Mall!! Opening 09/24! Biggest Mall In America!” Signs with the same writing were plastered all over nearby stores, the only variance being the color and size. The sun was beating down on the workers as they dug around the construction site, sweat and exhaustion visibly present on all of them. Smoke from the machines hovering all over the streets. These days, it has been getting hotter. Summer was on its way, yes, but the heat was excruciatingly high. There was a girl in one of my lectures that passed out signs to the class now and then. They had some sort of warning, something about the world dying and overheating. She was labeled as the crazy kid in class, so everyone maintained their distance. Except, of course, the other environmentalists around. They would convince the professor to postpone his lecture and talk about global warming, which he would more than gladly comply with whenever he was in no mood to teach. I never paid attention to them. All I wanted to do was finish university and find an easygoing job that pays well and relax. Not enter some sort of group that cleans trash all day. We had finally made it to the station, the man effortlessly placing my car down near the pump and leaving without so much of a goodbye. I didn’t care. He did his job and I paid my debt, no communication is needed. I filled my empty car with enough gasoline for the bar to reach full capacity, sighing as the heat made its way towards my bones. I glanced at the store by the station, a big poster advertising a brand new iced treat that came out a few days ago. I decided that it’s a good idea to try it out for the first time so I entered the store and grabbed myself one. For some reason, all the lights were on even though the sun provided enough radiance. The sound of the AC, the freezers, and what I thought was a sports game playing from the old TV in the corner was the only thing echoing through the store. I thanked the cashier and stepped out to eat my dessert in peace, slowly licking the popsicle to its wooden stick. I glanced around the area and couldn’t seem to pick up on any nearby garbage cans. So I headed towards my car to throw the wrapper and stick it into my cup holders. I began my journey back home, deeming this day too hot to do anything productive. Once I opened my window, the wrapper for the treat I had earlier flew out of it, causing me to mutter a few curses and signal an apology towards the car behind me. I sighed while waiting for traffic. Today’s been too long. The Alert I bowed one more time towards the crowd. I wasn’t going to give up. After all, it’s our planet. “I was invited to the latest meeting provided by our town. A few of my friends in the 'Mother Nature Club' noticed the ongoing instruction for the new mall and were on the verge of exploding. Our protests for more solar power and less plastic waste are all going in vain. I have spent hours cleaning the side roads and trying to convince people in my lectures to help prevent this excessive waste, and I don’t see any change. This heatwave we are going through, it’s all because of global warming. Antarctica has lost three trillion tons of ice, ancient glaciers are melting, droughts are happening, and it’s all because we are too selfish to take care of our world. What is it going to take for you to notice that our Earth is signaling for help? Signaling for us to find a way to let our Earth breathe ? Is having hundreds of thousands of trees cut down a day making you happy? And for what, to make paper that you won’t even get recycled? Why is the mall that is being built downtown needed? We have one in the next town over, and it’s only fifteen minutes away. Why won’t you reinforce solar panels on all buildings? Because people will save money? That gas station down the road, the lights are on even though the sun is right there. Have you ever stopped on the highway and seen the amount of trash that is being thrown from cars? Gasoline is also a problem. Believe it or not, electric cars exist. We just have to normalize them instead of gas cars. As humans, it’s natural to be selfish, it’s natural to not want to complicate your mind with tiny problems here and there. But those small problems will eventually become big . Big enough for you to wish you had solved these problems earlier. So all that is needed is for you to put your environment first. To begin rethinking your needs and wants. Baby steps. That is all that is required.” After stepping out into the empty lobby, I replayed my speech over and over in my head, hoping it was enough for the people present to rethink their values. I huffed a heated breath and grabbed my metal bottle to take a sip of my iced water that is stored inside. The heat has been gradually getting worse. The traffic everywhere is only increasing it. I glanced around the area and found no one present. kneeling on the floor, I offered a prayer for our Earth, hoping one day everyone would be able to see what I see and help me save her. The Suffering I knew my condition was getting worse. My fevers were getting stronger and lasting longer as well. A few of the ice I had stored were disappearing. Parts of my habitat were being burned. My animal children were getting killed daily. I tried to fight back. I have. A few water leaks here, a fire there. Though it doesn't seem to be working. I knew there were still a few of my human children who still cared about my health because I hear their prayers every night. Even though it was barely noticeable, I knew some cared about what the plastic was doing to me and the animals. And for that, I want to thank them. Thank them for caring about me when most of my children don’t. But I don’t blame them. I’m not angry, just saddened by that fact. I know not everyone has time to care about what can they should throw their garbage into, and don't have time to go and buy reusable bags. So I forgive you. But please save me. It’s getting more suffocating by the hour. I don’t think I have a lot of time. Please, I am begging you. From... Your Mother Earth.


I'm Cassandra Autumn. I'm twenty-five years old and I love birds. When I was a little demon, I have a friend named Mr. Wilson. He loves birds too, and he likes to tease me. It annoyed me, but in the end, he taught me a lesson about life and birds. I never forget him. After my classes ended, I fixed my things and Mr. Wilson appears in front of me, again. "What do you want?" I asked him. He smiled and hold my hand, "Let's go to ten day vacation." I was about to complain, but in the blink of an eye, we were in an unknown place. The place is full of lights. Yellow, green, red and have a weird sound. It's my first time I came here. Many humans eat popcorn and happily walking with their parent and friends. "What is this place?" I asked. "We were at an amusement park." My eyes wide because of... Excitement? "Weh? Are you serious? Mr. Wilson, please I want to go home." I was about to punch him that time because Mr. Wilson is so annoying. I want to kick his toes because of his freaking trick. But instead, his signature smiled curve in his face and teased me again. "Are you sure? But your eyes say something to me." My jaw dropped and my hand froze. "I know that you want to go in this place, but your father doesn't allow you to go." I bit my lips because of anger. He's right, my father never allow me to go in this place. For him, this place is not for demon like me. This place is for happy humans only. My clan is the bad demons and Mr. Wilson is a magician clan. Okay, never mind. I froze because Mr. Wilson pats my head again. "Don't worry, I talked to your father and he gives me a permission to come here with you." After he spoke, I hug him and cried again in his shoulder. I really, really want to go in this place. I want to eat popcorn, ice cream and ride the extreme rides. "Such a crying demon." After the dramatic scene, we enjoy the rides, foods and laughing others kids because of extreme rides. "Here, take it," Mr. Wilson said. I accepted the ice and eat, "You said we will go at ten day vacation. What place next?" "Hmm, secret. Just eat that ice cream immediately." Mr. Wilson fixes his hair and said that we will go to a hotel. Hey, we just sleep at all and my room is separate from him. Don't assume. I woke up and fix my things. It's second day and Mr. Wilson said that we will go to the river for fishing. Honestly, I hate fishing, it's boring and the worms, yuck! Their soft, dirty body. It's a big yuck, but in the end, I'm sitting beside him and waiting for the fish. "It's boring," I sighed. After an hour, he caught a ten tilapia and one goldfish. Seriously? Why that goldfish is swimming in the river? "Aw, you didn't get any fish. Poor Cassandra." On the third day, Mr. Wilson used his power to fly and invisible power. We fly at the town of Majayjay, Laguna in the Philippines. The place is nice, we eat at a famous restaurant named Jabella. Mr. Wilson ordered buffalo wings with chilly flavor and I ordered lemonade and clubhouse. The buffalo wings are not literally the meat of buffalo and instead, it's chicken wings. Mr. Wilson gives me one and when I bite, it's so delicious. Seriously, super yummy, but Mr. Wilson didn't give me one so I enjoyed my clubhouse. It's a sandwich with many mayonnaise, ketchup, lettuce, tomatoes and bacon. It's yummy and have good much for my lemonade. In my fourth and fifth day, I want to punch his face because I am searching him. On the fourth day, I dive at Puerto-Princess Underground River, Palawan to find him. Even it's dark and the tour guide shouting at me, I'm still searching him. I know it's weird, but so what? I'm a powerful adult demon so I can do whatever I want. In the end, I didn't find him and sleep with bats At fifth day, I fly at Chocolate Hills at Bohol because the one female bat told me that she spotted him. So I traveled and I saw the beautiful Chocolate Hills and not his annoying face! I enjoyed flying at that beautiful place, anyway. At sixth day, I finally find him. He just stands in front of Pyramid of Giza and taking pictures. I was about to run and punch his face, but I realized something, if he didn't do that, I will never have time for myself. I will never enjoy and making friends at humans. Hmm, not bad. On the seventh day, where here in Iceland to sight the Aurora Borealis. I was amazed because the green light in the sky. That's my first to see that thing in the sky so I take a picture with it and Mr. Wilson. The face of him is annoying, but because he is with me, I consider his handsome even he is seven-hundred-years-old. In eight days, we spend together at Seoul, Korea and eating kimchi. I even spotted my idol walking with her assistant. I'm so happy so I stopped the time and take a picture with her. So I used my power and Mr. Wilson scratch his head because of my childish behavior. "Nice one, Cassandra." At ninth day, I'm counting my all souvenirs from the places we travel. I laughed because the spoon in Jabella is in my bag. "Bad, why the spoon is there?" Mr. Wilson laughed at me. "I don't know. Hahaha, at least every time I see this spoon, I will remember the buffalo wings and the clubhouse." Mr. Wilson smiled at me and help me to arrange my things. On this day, we will go at the place where humans buried, at Manila Cemetery. This place buried my friend named Harry. He's a human and he died in a car accident. I clean his place and light the candles. "Hello, Harry. It's been a while. I know you didn't hear me, but I know where you are now, I know you're okay." "You know, I go beautiful places in this country. It's so many beautiful places in the Philippines, the Aurora Borealis at Iceland, and your favorite place at Pyramid of Giza." I wipe my little tears and I continue, "I'm with Mr. Wilson. You know, that old demon talked my father to give me a permission to go on an amusement park. He taught me about how birds fly and lessons about life. He is annoying but have a good cold heart." After an hour of telling my eight days vacation, I stand up and Mr. Wilson opens his umbrella. "Let's go, Cassandra." On the last day of vacation, we are here at the playground. "Are you happy, Cassandra?" "Yes, I'm very happy. I wish we can travel more than ten days."


At Mel’s Diner, Adam Mason sat alone contemplating a once in a lifetime tragedy. Going out into the world was his way of taking a leap of faith. In the crystal shards of sunlight shining through the window, he caught a glimpse of himself and quickly turned away. It was the first time in years that he had seen his reflection. Sure, he would look in the mirror to comb his brown hair and to make himself look presentable, but he didn’t really look at himself . Reaching down, he took another sip of his black coffee and listened to all the hustle and bustle that was the morning rush. People would order their food and quickly hurry on their way. An old tube tv sat in the corner collecting dust, and it was always on ESPN. The place was a living breathing organism. Adam noticed Lucy walking towards him with her order notepad. Her dirty blonde hair bounced with each step, and her beauty radiated throughout the entire diner. Lucy was his regular waitress, and she always had a cheerful personality. This was something that Adam found to be very troublesome. “Good morning Adam. Can I get you some more coffee?” she asked. Adam placed his right hand over the cup and said, “Lucy, you know I only drink one cup every morning.” His eyes rose up to meet hers. “Why do you always insist on this.” Lucy pinched her lips together and rolled her eyes. “First of all, I’m just doin’ my job! Secondly, you always look so glum and miserable.” She flung her hand in the air. “You’re a very nice young man, and in all the years you’ve been coming here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile!” Pointing at him like she meant business, she continued, “It’s my duty to aggravate you to no end!” She gave him a warm smile. Adam raised his eyebrows and said, “I think you best tend those aggravations to someone else. I’ve had enough for one morning.” “Whatever you say, Adam,” Lucy frowned, and turned away to wait on other customers. Adam raised the coffee cup to his lips and took another sip. His thoughts came racing in like a tsunami. How dare they invade his private isolation. Lucy means well by flirting with me, but there’s no way she could ever know that I’m a broken man. There’s no way she would know about the broken clock in my home that helps me sleep at night, because I’m trying to forget about time. There’s no way she would understand the loneliness that dwells in my heart, because it’s been frozen over. There’s no way she would understand about the locks I’ve placed in my head to guard myself from further heartache. Adam took a deep breath and looked over at Lucy who was bringing a plate of bacon and eggs to the table in front of him. The sun reflected off the plate as she placed it on the table. Adam squinted his eyes, as the past came back to haunt him. He remembered the car accident that claimed the lives of his wife and newborn daughter. What it felt like hanging upside down after the head-on collision with that eighteen-wheeler. Pulses of light blinking on and off in the darkness of night. His heartbeat pounding like thunder in his chest. How unfair it was that God had taken their souls to Heaven and left him there to rot . His whole world gone in an instant. The never-ending nights of crying - cutting himself off from the world. A single tear rolled down Adam’s cheek and he quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe it away. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy noticed that something was wrong. She decided to take her morning break and sat down across from Adam. “What are you doing Lucy?” he asked. “You look like you could use some company,” she said. Shaking his head Adam replied, “I’m fine Lucy, it’s just my allergies acting up.” Her eyes narrowed as she gazed into his eyes. “I don’t think so... I know the look of sorrow when I see it.” Adam grimaced and said, “GO AWAY!” He slammed his hands on the table - his eyes burning with aggravation. Lucy beamed with a glowing ethereal light that seemed to put him at ease. She reached over and placed her hand on his. She gave him a once over - taking in every detail in his face. She could tell he was fighting back tears. She bit her lower lip and then gave him a half-smile. “Look Adam, you’ve been coming in here for a long time. I know we don’t know each other that well, but if you want to talk I’m here to listen.” The color drained from Adam’s face as sadness clouded his features. He withdrew his hand from hers and folded his arms. He took a deep breath trying to compose himself. When his eyes met hers, he noticed a twinkle in her soft blue eyes. Does she really want to know? Can it be that she really cares? I’ve kept this tragedy buried for far too long. Maybe I should tell her. If nothing else maybe she will leave me alone, he thought to himself. He spoke in a somber voice, “A few years ago... there was this accident... my family... didn’t make it.” He took another deep breath and deeply exhaled. “I was driving my wife home from the hospital with our newborn baby girl. We crossed the intersection, and a big rig truck ran the light. He hit us straight on...” Adam closed his eyes, and Lucy held her hands up to her trembling mouth. “My wife and baby daughter were killed instantly. I was badly injured but somehow...I survived. I’ve been lost ever since...” Adam could no longer hold back the flood gates. Lucy rose up from her seat and slid over to Adam. She placed her arms around him and they wept together. The warmth of her body against his sent a strange sensation to his heart. Adam thought to himself, Was this compassion, sympathy, or pity? After a few moments, they released each other from their friendly embrace. Everyone in the diner was staring at them with eyes wide open. Adam placed his hands on his face to avoid the judgmental glances. His heart started to pound like a big bass drum, and he wanted to run away. “Shows over folks!” Lucy shouted. “Go about your business!” After a moment of silence and a few awkward stares, the hustle and bustle of the diner returned to normal. Tears shimmered in Lucy’s eyes and she grabbed a napkin to wipe them away. She reached over and held Adam’s hand. She really does care... I can’t believe it. I thought everyone in this hateful world only cared about themselves , Adam thought. A glimmer of hope in his eyes. “I know how hard it is to face this world after a tragedy like that,” Lucy said. “A couple of years ago I lost someone special. My husband died from a brain aneurysm.” She lifted her eyes to Heaven and continued, “One day he was completely fine... and the next day he was gone.” “I’m so sorry Lucy, I had no idea...” Adam said. Her face brightened, and her smile returned. “It’s not something I talk about much. I lost my whole world that day, but I knew deep down in my heart that he would have wanted me to move forward in life.” Recognition filled Adam’s face as he asked, “How did you get through it? What did you do?” Lucy raised her eyebrows and clenched her jaw. “I decided to move on with my life. I started working here during the days, and at night I go to school. I have a silly dream to become a nurse. It’s something that I’ve always wanted to do.” She raised her eyes again, “I think he would’ve been proud of me...” Adam nodded his head. “It’s not a silly dream, and I know that he would be proud of you.” Lucy smiled again and said, “The tragedy you went through wasn’t your fault. Stop blaming yourself. I know deep down that your wife and daughter wouldn’t want you to live a life full of misery and grief. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and try this thing called living.” Adam blushed, and a single tear fell from his eye. “I think you're right... Maybe I should try to move on.” Lucy stood up and said, “I know I’m right. It won’t be easy. When times get hard, and there will be some hard times...remember that you have at least one friend to help you along the way.” Lucy looked down at her watch and said, “Well... I need to get back to work. Can I get you anything?” Adam gazed down at his coffee cup and said, “I think I’ll take that refill now.” Lucy smiled and noticed the corners of Adam’s lips turn up... He was smiling. The End Daniel R. Hayes


The heart monitor beeped steadily, the mountains and valleys of a heartbeat painting a line of life. Overhead, an AC hummed as it pumped filtered air into the room. A door slid open with a whoosh and a nurse entered. She walked to the bed, compared her charts to the machines standing guard and made a few notes. As she leaned down to check on the drainage bag, the patient stirred. She paused, staring at the sleeping man, his chest rising and falling with the machines, his mouth closed around the tube keeping him alive. He stirred again and she straightened, checking the machines, then her charts again. When he stirred a third time, she called for the doctor. Patient 13705, known to his friends and family as Jesse O’Hian, had been in a coma for three years, 7 months, 23 days. The doctors at St. Mary had given him a 1 in 3.7 million chance of waking up. As the team rushed into his room and gathered around his bed, Patient 13705 struck his chance. Dr. Glascow was the first thing he saw. The old man’s weathered face smiled at him like a welcoming angel. There was a ringing in Jesse’s ear that sounded like the brakes of the 6 o’clock train. His lips were stretched and dry and something tickled the back of his throat. “Good morning Mr. O’Hian,” Dr. Glascow was saying, his voice fighting against the ringing in Jesse’s ear. “Absolutely lovely to see you today. You’ve got a breathing tube in, so be careful. We’ll have that out in a bit, we’ve just got to make sure you can breathe on your own.” Jesse looked down as far as he could to see the blue and white tube snaking across his chest to one of the machines standing next to his bed. It reminded him of a worm, like the ones he would use when he would go fishing. Dr. Glascow ran him through a series of tests. Satisfied, he ordered the nurse to shut off the breath machine. The switch was flipped, and Jesse felt his chest go flat. There was a sudden rush of panic and then he took a deep breath, his lungs straining with the effort. The air was cool, and it tingled, unlike the stale, warm air from the machine. The nurse hovered over Jesse. “Now then, just relax. You’ll feel a gagging sensation as I pull this out. Just try and ignore that.” She smiled at him, grasped the breathing tube with her gloved hands and in one swift motion, pulled the tube from his throat. He gagged as the plastic slid over his tongue, leaving a chemical taste behind. The empty space in his mouth felt foreign as he worked his jaw up and down. Dr. Glascow and Ms. Hyatt continued running through their checklist, removing tubes and needles from his body. As each one left his body, he became more and more aware of himself. His limbs were heavy and felt far away, as if they were connected through wires over some great distance. He stared at them, trying to close the gap with his mind. “Are you aware of what day it is?” Dr. Glascow was asking. Jesse shook his head, the motion like a rocking wave. The room swam around him and he squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s the 10th of June, 2046. A beautiful day, I might add. We’ve been having such good weather lately.” The doctor smiled at him, a row of white tombstone-like teeth showing between his lips. “Now, now, don’t get too worked up.” The doctor put his hand on Jesse’s arm. It was warm, and brought a sudden close awareness of the space between Jesse and his arm. “See, you’ve been in a coma for the past three years,” the doctor continued. “It’s quite normal to experience some confusion after waking up. Much has changed since your accident! Do you remember the accident? Nevermind, that will come in time.” Jesse watched him get up and look over the charts Ms. Hyatt handed him. “We’ll monitor you for the next 48 hours, and if you’re doing well, you’ll be released! I’ll be sure to notify your ICE contact and let them know you’re awake.” There was a flurry of motion as doctor and nurse got Jesse comfortable, explained the catheter use and showed him how to order meals if he felt so inclined. When the room was finally quiet again, Jesse stared at the ceiling, finding shapes in the speckled ceiling. Shapes and voices spun in his head, a spiral of sounds and colors that made no sense. Occasionally, he saw someone’s face in striking clarity, or heard a distinct voice. He recognized none of it. In the midst of all this was a slow, distorted voice, singing a single line over and over: “Nobody knows, the trouble I’ve seen...” + + + + + + + + + + The sunlight glared down on Jesse as his wheelchair left the hospital. He threw a hand up to shade his eyes. A pair of long legs walked over to him, sultry and tan. His eyes travelled up to find the legs attached to a woman with dark sunglasses and an even darker frown. Even behind the glasses, her gaze struck him. “Has he got anything else?” the woman asked, looking at the nurse pushing Jesse’s wheelchair. “No ma’am. There were no personal effects other than what he has on him.” The nurse indicated the bag Jesse held. “I trust you can take it from here?” The woman jerked her head towards a red car parked on the curb. “Help him in the passenger side.” With the nurse’s help, Jesse made his way into the front seat of the car. It smelled of oiled leather and pine. The seatbelt clicked into place as the door shut and for a brief moment, he was alone in the stillness. Shortly after, the woman got in the car, started the engine, and pulled away from the hospital. “Did they tell you anything?” she asked, settling back as the car went into auto-drive. Jesse shook his head slowly. “There was an accident.” His tongue still felt clumsy and awkward after three years of disuse. The woman made a noise in her throat. “Nothing else? Well, that’s unfortunate.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m Cara, your cousin. My father was your Uncle. You’ve got an apartment in the Apotho District.” She cleared her throat. “How do you feel, Jesse?” He frowned. “I don’t know. How should I feel?” Cara made a face like she was frustrated. “I mean, do you feel anything? At all? Emotionally, that is.” Jesse thought for a moment. “At times, yes. It’s very...confusing right now. I’m not sure what’s what.” His cousin nodded. “That’s good,” she mused. “Should I be feeling something?” Cara turned in her seat to face him. “A lot’s changed since your accident, Jesse.” “The doctor said the same thing.” He moved to face her more, the leather seats creaking beneath him. “What does that mean?” “Do you remember anything, Jesse? From before your accident? Anything at all?” He shrugged. “I think so. I get flashes of faces, voices, colors, sounds...it’s overwhelming.” The car slowed to a stop at a light. They watched the pedestrians pass, their faces all relaxed. No one was in a hurry, there were no horns blaring, no one yelling for someone else to move. Jesse frowned. “It’s too quiet,” he murmured. Cara let out a small sigh. “You’d better get used to it. It’s like this everywhere now.” “What happened?” “They made us all equal.” Jesse stared as the car proceeded through the intersection. “Equal. What does that mean?” His cousin gestured to the people walking the sidewalks. “We’re all the same now. The playing field has been leveled, for everyone. From the moment we’re born, we all have the same level of skill as everyone else. No one is smarter or faster or better than anyone else.” “How?” was all Jesse could ask. Cara shrugged. “No one knows the exact science behind it. There’s an additive to the air we breathe that alters our chemical makeup to balance us out, to make us all the same. Things have been better since then.” Jesse snorted, an unfamiliar feeling. “How is that better?” “Oh, that’s just the coma talking.” Cara chuckled. “Just give it a few days and you’ll see. The technological and societal advances we’ve made since the additive has made things much easier. No more poverty, no more greed, no more war. You’ll see, Jesse. You’ll see.” + + + + + + + + + + If you’d like to read part two, you can find it at the link in my profile.


Sexy Frank hopped out of bed with an agile leap, landing on his tippy-toes like a prima-ballerina, as he smiled the smile of the Gods. He bent over, touching said toes, his sexy form-fitting shorts hugging his sexy glutes. He sexily sauntered downstairs, to have his standard sexy meal of the day: a protein shake to help tone his sexy, bulky biceps. Once he'd finished his deliciously sexy drink, he sprinted outside like a verified Olympic champion and got into his spanking-new Porsche. He smiled another smile praised by every dentist alive, as he sped off to the only place he deemed worthy of his sexy presence: the gym. Sexy Frank entered the gym, his sexy posture tall, his sexy brilliant blue eyes passing over all the hot humans of the female variety he was looking to ask out. Then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted her: a woman who wasn't perfect like sexy Frank and his crew of hot babes, had dared to enter into his sexy sanctuary. The woman nonetheless smiled, prompting sexy Frank to scrunch up his sexy nose. Sexy Frank power-hiked over to her, wanting to offer her his sexy services, as she was clearly in denial of her disgusting state of imperfection. "Pleased to meet you, my name is Frank Bigglesworth Von Paddington. I would like to offer you assistance in getting rid of your excess fat, you know, so you can win yourself a dreamboat like sexy Frank?" Frank winked his wonderful, sexy wink, which as a rule caused weak knees and swoons to take over the bodies of every woman between the ages of 18 to 25. The woman shook her head, unwilling to take sexy Frank's strong, sexy hand, before moving along on her merry way. Sexy Frank's mouth dropped open, his sexy lips forming a perfect, sexy O. Bedazzled and confused, he spun a sexy spin surely worthy of a ten out of ten from every judge in a sexy spinning contest and ran after the woman, who clearly had some severe type of brain damage, in order for her to be ignoring a sexy man such as sexy Frank. "Wait, don’t you need sexy Frank's sexy help?" "No, no, I don’t think I do," the woman muttered with an eyeroll, which was probably another symptom of her serious head injury. "But I am sexy Frank, every lady wants my attention!" Sexy Frank roared, going red in the face, as he banged his sexy fists on his sexy pecs of steel. The woman slowly made her way towards the large glass door, beckoning the gaggle of young nurses to do the same. "Is that the last one for today?" The chipper blonde newbie on her right asked her. "Yes, yes it is," the head nurse nodded, sliding the heavy door closed, eyeing Frank Turner with a degree of silent defeat, as he gradually sank down again in his padded cell, the word "gym" scrawled in bold on the wall behind his handsome head of hair.


I walk through the abandoned city, it is quiet out here. It isn’t night and the sky isn’t black, but it doesn’t feel like daytime either. The clouds are heavily overcast, a permanent dull grey sky like a looming presence above, the dreary atmosphere always giving the impression that the light is about to run out. No roads lead to the abandoned city, no birds tweet around the empty high-rise buildings and no rats rustle and scuttle along the ground. There is silence, save for the occasional passing gust of wind, travelling in a purposeful direction, the movement of condemned souls who never made it out, forever trying to escape this labyrinthine grey hell. I arrived by bicycle, riding through the uneven wasteland which surrounds this haunted former abode of civilisation. The nearest settlement is three hours out by bike, a depressed little village with all of the emptiness of this abandoned city yet none of the grandeur. Such is the personality of all that surrounds this hallow place. My destination is the city centre, that plaza of horror where all of this began, where so many before me have tried to venture, where from none have returned. I go by foot, my bike long invalidated by the sea of broken glass which scatters the outer limits of the city. I have no map, and the city is like a maze, the tall buildings enclosing around me, enveloping me in a monotone scene of terror. Yet I know that I approach the centre, that my direction is correct, I feel heavier and heavier the presence of this city, the air becoming thicker to walk through, more solid. The buildings themselves grow taller and become more terrifying. Faces begin to cover the walls, I scarcely noticed it at first but now I can’t escape them: tens, hundreds, thousands, more. I turn around and look back, the scene behind me now reflecting that ahead of me, faces everywhere, human faces. All depicting some image of abject horror and agony, faces trapped mid-scream. No painter painted these faces, no vandal graffitied them onto the bleak stone walls, these are real faces, faces of the damned. This whole abandoned city carries a foreboding aura, invokes a domineering fear in the mind, but only now does it begin to unsettle me, that latent fear in the pit of my stomach beginning to bubble and rise under the oppression of the surrounding supernatural: I look around and see a million silent screaming faces, and a million silent screaming faces look back. I can’t turn back now, I am so close to my goal. I break into a light jog, and then into a run, the fear rises, and now a sprint: I will get this over as quickly as possible. The city grows darker, a shade by shade of grey at a time, and the buildings loom ever taller, but still I run. The thick air drags against me, I am running through what seems a solid, a force pressing against me, the soul and terror of the abandoned city, my footsteps pound but they do not echo. I come to an eventual halt, I can feel my heartbeat throughout my entire chest, neck and head, my chest feels tight, my neck constricted and my head as if it is about to burst. My vision is unfocused, something in the grey is ajar, the faces remain on the walls but they are no longer at the forefront dominating my consciousness, the presence of the city is manifest, almost corporeal. A gust of wind passes by around me, perhaps even through me, I cannot tell, but inside of it I hear for a fleeting second a distant scream, a wail from the depths of this overland abyss. I look around but every direction is the same, I wonder if I am now in the centre, there is nothing identifying about the plaza around me, but there is no longer any single direction more pervasively terrifying than the rest. And then I see it, an anomaly up ahead, a lone building with no frozen faces upon its walls. I approach: there is no door, not even a window, only a vertical crack in the stone rising from the floor to about a metre and a half high. It is a deep crack and scarcely wide enough for a human to fit through, but I crouch and squeeze into it, this is what I came for, I know it somehow. It is dark around me, and the crack is too narrow for me to look back or turn around, in fact it grows tighter the further onwards I struggle. Just before me I see a light, a small window gap in the stonework, I no longer feel fear, I feel elated. I try to reach further forward to see the marvel through this gap, stone pushes against me, it swallows me up but I poke my head through the hole at last. I am stuck. The sensation of elation is over and I am paralysed with fear, no, not with fear, I panic, I can’t feel my body, my hands, my feet, I can’t turn my head, I am in agony. My face begins to freeze up, I scream but no noise escapes from me. I look ahead, I see the side of a building, a wall covered in faces, I concentrate closer, they are all my face. My face, the one I am looking through, not the ones opposite me, is locked but I can still move my eyes. A figure walks through the streets below and I notice a peculiarity: he is me. I call to him, to me, but a jet of wind rushes past and carries my call I know not where, but still, I call to him, noiselessly, we all call to him. To me.


By The Old Willow Tree 120 seconds. That’s all I had. I had 120 seconds left to live. It’s a funny feeling. Counting the seconds before your inevitable death. Usually, people don’t know they’re exact time to live. But I did. That’s what the red ominous numbers said at least. The red numbers ticked down the seconds I had to live. I feel bad for the people who die alone. All alone without anyone to spend their final moments with. Count me lucky. I had someone screaming in my ear as my final seconds “No!” Willow screeched trying to yank the collar off my neck. “They said it would come off” She howled, tears starting to stream down her face. “Well, they lied didn’t they” I grunt clutching my bleeding leg. She starts to bawl in tears. “We were meant to leave” She wipes tears “Together” she screams. “Well, sometimes in life we don’t get to choose,” I say her my voice restrained in pain. She starts to frantically look for a way out. “Don’t” I Stop her gripping her hand “It’s useless to refuse the truth” She grasps my chest and starts to cry into my shoulder. “It isn’t fair” She sobs “I know I know, life can sometimes not be fair,” I tell her trying to soften my voice so she relaxes “So what do I do!” She sniffles. “There is nothing you can do, I guess just sit by my side I don’t want to die alone,” I say my voice cracking. I am not scared. What’s the point of being scared now. I accept the fact that my moments are slowly slipping away. I hold her tightly in my arms as she uses my shoulder as a pillow. Just like we always used to do. “Well there is one thing you can do,” I tell her. “What?” She asks impatiently “Sing with me Willow,” I say softly. My shoulder is drenched in tears as she buries her face in it. “Of course Domingo,” She says as I wipe her tears and she clears her throat. “Want to start,” I ask her and she giggles. “Ladies first” She giggles through her teary eyes. I chuckle and start to sing “Under the trees” I sing as we exchange lines like we always used to do “Over the River” She sings her voice gulping with almost every word “Down by the stream” Even with her gulping her voice as beautiful as ever “Through the meadows” The relaxing tone of her voice removes any thought “Across the leaves” All I think of is her “Cross the bridge” The memories of her flood my mind “And past the seam” Where we would sit in the willow tree and talk “And there you'll find” Those were some of my favourite memories “The old willow tree“ Her voice is soft almost angelic but not as high “Here I'll be waiting” But that’s a good thing she sounds like she is singing me to sleep “Here I'll be sitting” I imagine being back in the tree “For you to come find me” I imagine being way back when “Under the trees” When we would sit there for hours “Over the River” We would forget about the world “Down by the stream” Because in that tree there was just us “Through the meadows” Nobody to stop us “Across the leaves” No worries to stress us “Cross the bridge” Just us “And pass the seam” Sitting in the willow tree “And there I'll be sitting” I just want to freeze time and stay in those moments “In the old willow tree” But I know I can’t “Here I'll wait” Those moments will forever be in the past “For you to come hold me” I won’t be making any new memories any time soon “Here I'll wait” My seconds tick down “For you to watch the stars with me” But the whole world freezes as I just listen “So come down by the old willow tree” To Willow’s beautiful voice “It’s Under the trees” I could never really sing “Over the River” My voice always loses tone “Down by the stream” But her voice always kept a majestic tone “Through the meadows” I feel as though she is singing me to sleep “Across the leaves” One last lullaby “Cross the bridge” Before I sleep “And pass the seam” And never wake up “There you'll find” I close my eyes “The old willow tree” And start to imagine death “There you'll find” I just imagine it as a nap “Me” A nap “Waiting for you” You will never wake up from “To come and sit” No worries just sleep “So come find me” I smile “I'm down by the old willow tree” As willow sings the last line I look at the ominous numbers as they read. 30 seconds. I trail through Willow’s hair with my left hand as she holds my right hand tight. She always reminded me of a willow tree. Not only because of her name. Her deep brown eyes would remind me of the rough but welcoming bark. The bark we would always climb. Her silky long green hair. Dark green just like the leaves. Leaves we would always have to peek through to see the moon. 10 seconds the numbers read. Willow doesn’t whimper anymore instead she says “Any final words”. “If these are my final moments I am glad they’re with you” I respond as I feel a sharp jabbing pain in my neck. My world starts to fade to black but before it does I turn Willow’s head to face me. Our eyes lock. As my vision fades to black the final thing I see. Is her beautiful brown eyes. They twinkle in the sunset. “Don’t worry I’ll always be waiting, by the old willow tree,” I tell her as my vision fades from twinkling brown to black.


“Ariana, please listen to me.” I shoved past her, grabbing the neat pile of shirts from my desk before shoving them in my bag. It was quickly getting full and I eyed the neon suitcase that sat on the top shelf of my closet. My mother was quick to follow my gaze. “Absolutely not,” She said with a strict finality in her tone, stepping in front of the closet to block my access to the suitcase. “The fact that you still think this is happening is insane. So, sit your ass down and start unpacking.” I paused, considering. Clearly, the idea that she would just give up on stopping me from going away was not true. I sat down and watched as relief flooded her features. She clearly thought she had won this battle. “This is not worth it. I know you think you want it. I get it. You’re eighteen and you think you’re an adult now and you think you know what you want. But you don’t. Attending a school in the middle of nowhere is not the great idea you think it is.” Kulu Dyheu University. A private university on a tiny, tropical island in the middle of the Arctic Ocean between Iceland and Norway. A university that I knew logically I had found by complete accident, and yet it seemed like fate. The university had a broad range of majors that appealed to me as well as a beautiful campus. I may not have been there yet, but the pictures that were displayed on the webpage for the school boasted large, gorgeous plants and a close-knit campus to make the journeys between classes easy. I had applied immediately and despite the huge scholarship I received, Mom remained unconvinced. She begged me to stay in state. Told me that Minnesota had many wonderful institutions to attend. I remained uninterested, however. Even as other acceptance letters flooded my mailbox, nothing grabbed my attention or excited me like my acceptance letter to Kulu Dyheu University. So, I submitted my fee to the university and made the official decision to attend there. Did my mother know that? No. Not at the time. But now she did know, and she was not handling it well. “This is where I want to go. It’s a great school. And I can call you everyday. I’ll be fine.” Perhaps, an appeal to the technology of today would sway her. Her frown deepened. “You are not going to school there.” She walked out of my room, casting one last glare at my half-packed bag. I thought that this would pass. That she would grow used to the idea of me leaving. Weeks of summer flew by and the start of a new school year dawned. But as I brought up my need for a passport and buying clothes for the warm island I would be staying, she brushed my words aside. I realized, with a start, that she truly meant what she had said at the beginning of my summer. She had no intention of letting me go there. This was going to be harder than I thought. But I was nothing if not resilient, so I got myself a passport to start. This, although a scary experience, was not difficult to do. I had all my forms prepared and various pieces of identification to prove I was who I said I was. After six weeks, I received my passport, shiny and new, with the smell of freedom. It was so strong it intoxicated me. My bags remained mostly packed for a month. And when the time to leave grew near, I finished packing, placing my toothbrush and deodorant in last. Everything was in place. The house was silent as the clock ticked towards midnight. Adam, my best friend and apparently my getaway driver, was on his way. I was nearly bouncing on my bed from the excitement of it all. My phone lit up with a text from Adam announcing his presence in my driveway. I glanced out the window and could see the headlights from his car facing the garage door. Shouldering my many bags, I slid into the hallway, doing my best to avoid the creaky floorboards. Before creeping down the stairs, I paused outside the pink painted door. Gently, I pushed it open and peered inside. My sister lay curled atop her covers, hand still wrapped around her phone. I muttered a goodbye she would never hear. After exiting the front door, I made as fast of a dash as I could with many bags. I shoved them into the back seat, before sliding into the passenger seat and grinning at Adam. He rolled his eyes and he backed out of the driveway. The airport we were driving to was a few hours away. I insisted on choosing the one that was not the closest to my house, in case anything went wrong. “They’ll check the closest airport, if they realize I left,” I had explained to Adam over a bowl of mint ice cream. “So, we’ll go to some random one a few cities away.” Blasting music to keep the both of us awake, Adam’s hands were glued tightly to the steering wheel. His nerves about this whole operation were unrelenting, and I could practically see him working himself into a panic attack. “It’s going to be fine,” I reminded him, carefully placing one of my hands over one of his. His eyes never left the road, but he did appear to release a breath neither of us had realized he had been holding. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being left behind to clean up your mess,” he retorted after a minute. I gave an apologizing smile, and he rolled his eyes. I knew I was forgiven. “But seriously, is it worth it? Ditching your mom and sister, leaving in the middle of the night, going behind everyone’s back, facing the unknown, all for a college? Is it really worth it?” My eyes fixated on the exit sign for the airport. One mile. “It is. It’s what I want. Don’t I deserve to do what I want to do? To go where I want to go?” “Of course,” he said, hurriedly. “I just wish where you wanted to go wasn’t so far away.” “I’ll come back. For Christmas and things like that.” “It won’t be the same.” Adam was attending an in-state school for elementary education. I was going thousands of miles away to study aerospace engineering, graphic design, and gender studies. To say, we would be leading different lives was the understatement of the century. He pulled into the airport, parking close to the entrance. As we both unbuckled, Adam reached for the cooler of homemade sandwiches. Feasting on peanut butter and jellies, chips, and capri suns, we were once again reminded of the fast coming future. We were no longer children. As excited as I was, fear gripped me for the first time as I fully realized what I was doing. Moving so far away that I could never just drive home for the weekend, or have my mom come visit if I needed her. Adam squeezed my hand, sensing my anxieties. “You’re going to be amazing.” “You sure?” “Absolutely.” I had never been on a plane before. They were bumpy and crowded and smelly, and yet I could not stop myself from smiling. This was my beginning. The plane landed in Iceland, which was surprisingly green to me. I suddenly felt very silly in my coat and jeans as a slight gust of wind provided me and my fellow passengers with a breath of relief from the humidity. I stayed the night in a hotel, flopping on the creaking bed with exhaustion. My many bags lay abandoned by the door and for the first time since leaving, I checked my phone. I had thirty missed phone calls from my mom and over 100 messages. Adam had sent me five texts, asking me if I was okay and then telling me that my mom was freaking out. Finally, Annie, my little sister, had texted me. Unlike the upset tone to my mom’s messages or the concerned tone of Adam’s, Annie’s were curious. I took a moment of consideration, before sending her a message informing her that I was okay. Then, I let the exhaustion overtake me. I was up bright and early the following morning to board the boat. My bags overwhelmed me as I stumbled toward the dock from the taxi, yet no one moved to help me. I managed to make it onto the boat, handing the crumpled ticket to the person who appeared to be in charge. He looked at it in distaste before letting me board. The tiny boat was small and shaky. I threw up four times. My head pounded the entire time and I nearly regretted it all, as I buried my head in between my knees, begging for the headache to loosen the terrible grip it had on me. But, this was still what I wanted. My classes, the new friends I would make, living on a tropical island away from my family- it was everything I was excited about. After quite a few hours, we docked on the island. I had just barely stepped out onto the deck when the boat and its crew took off away from the island. I began walking on a dirt road. I passed by a café and waved at two girls who sat outside, side by side, eating ice cream. Soon enough, the large sign of Kulu Dyheu University came into view, brightly colored and intricately designed. A smile took over my face. Finally.


Johnny’s twelve-year-old legs bicycled, rustled, shot him out through the open screen door onto the porch. “They’re going to shoot a nuclear bomb at it!” he called, bare feet creaking the wooden floorboards, dislodging their cool dust. Johnny’s parents, reclined gently in lawn chairs, kept their backs turned to him, as though they had not heard. They were stony-faced, watching the sky cave in. “We’re lucky, you know,” said Father, talking to no one in particular, words dispersing, particles lost in air. “There’s half a chance they’ll vaporise it outright, half a chance they’ll send it somewhere else. They wouldn’t be trying something like this if it was going to hit, say, some poor country in Africa. This must be their last resort.” “Why wouldn’t they?” asked Johnny, leaping from the porch to get a better look at his father’s face, bathed in flaming sky. He felt the morning grass damp underneath him. The air was fresh, the world red-fire. It was exciting, the three of them being up that late, so far from home. Exciting that the world was ending. “Don’t start,” warned Johnny’s mother. Father sighed, still staring at the sky, darkness spreading from a single black point in the center of it. The meteor was coming. “Yes, you’re right. Hardly the time to have him worrying about those sorts of things. Hardly the time to have him worrying about anything, really. Or perhaps that means he ought to be worrying about everything. He’s got an awful lot of worrying to do, and not much time to do it.” After a moment, Mother tilted her ochre eyes down to Johnny. “Why don’t you go back inside and check the news for us?” Johnny nodded solemnly, reporting for duty, cheeks shining, sparkling in the early morning redness, the blood-burning sky. In two quick bounds he leapt the porch stairs, rushed inside. Valiant Pheidippides. “What was that for? Saying he’s not got much time left?” “Not much time left for worrying. About normal kid things, I mean,” said Father. “Assuming we make it.” “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.” At that moment, Johnny burst back through the screen door, shouting, breathless. “They’re launching it now! Only half an hour until it hits!” Father’s head, bent permanently back, watching the dark new, rapidly approaching sun, creaked slowly, deliberately down to Earth, expending a Herculean effort. He looked dazedly down, face scalded red from watching the burning sky, blood shining through skin. “Come on, Johnny,” he said, patting his lap. “Come on.” He beckoned Johnny closer, then hoisted him up, set him down on his knee. “Let’s watch it together. You don’t have to check the news anymore.” “All right, Dad.” Mother smiled wanly across at them. Father clutched Johnny in silence. They could almost make out the meteor whistling overhead, serene as birdsong, shifting ever closer through vast space, setting the atmosphere ablaze with its kamikaze descent. Father shifted underneath Johnny, clutching him, impatient. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, slow as trickling, viscous lava. “You know,” he said, finally, “there’s going to be a winter that’ll last for years and years, they say. When the meteor hits, all the dust, ash, little bits of rocks are going to spew forth, like a great blanket over the sky. First there’ll be firestorms. Every forest on Earth will burn. Then everything’ll go dark. First the plants’ll die, then the animals, then--” “You don’t know that,” said Mother. “There’s an awful lot of science backing me up.” “You don’t know that the meteor will hit us at all, I mean. They could still stop it.” Father went silently back to shifting, watching the black and red doom in the sky, arms wrapped around Johnny’s small waist, rocking him up and down, up and down, fitful. Johnny whipped his head frantically back and forth between the two adults, each locked away in their own vasty deep, lost in the shared burning of the sky. “Mom, Dad,” he said, eyes wet with red-glowing liquid. “It’s all right. They’re going to stop it. They’re going to blow it up.” Laboriously, Father tilted his scalded face once more down to Johnny’s, seeing his wet eyes, the smile on his lips. Feigned bravery. “That’s right, Johnny.” The whistling silence, the birdsong, birdless reverie of the early morning stretched into vast infinities. Time was shifting away, moving slowly, quickly, not moving at all. Each felt in turn an urgency, an anxiety, followed by a languishing indolence, a great, all-consuming lassitude, followed once more by sheer panic, that otherworldly beast of Fear. And each one, in the expansive, eternal silence of the morning, felt very, very small. “I don’t want to watch it anymore, Dad.” A brief pause. Mother wiped her sky-burnt face with the back of one of her thin hands. She stood. “Come on, let’s go inside.” There were no protests. * * * Three plates of mashed potatoes, boiled peas, slabs of grey chicken breast lay abandoned on the table. The three infinitesimal humans sat in infinitesimal chairs around it, none of them eating. As though the food between them was a sacred, mysterious object, as though it were the subject of an elaborate ritual. Mother and Father had prepared it solemnly some hours before. They knew the meteor was coming that day, but the exact hour, even the vaguest notion of time of day, was far beyond their knowledge. And so they had prepared dinner, so many hours before, going about their days with the greatest of existential horrors lurking in their shadows, the Sword of Damocles lingering above them, clinging to some nebulous symbol of domesticity. It was the early morning now, the food had gone cold. Not one of them suggested reheating it, but still they all sat, huddled around the dinner table like birds in a nest, not wanting to be too far from one another at any given moment. They had pulled the blinds shut, blotting out the sky. Lights had been switched on all through the house. They had been half surprised to find the lights in working order; it seemed too normal. The house was their summer home, up in Michigan. Their real home would be destroyed by the meteor. They had been forced to flee, taking with them only what was necessary. No time to think, say goodbye. Mother wiped a single, silent tear from the bridge of her nose. Neither Father nor Johnny noticed a thing, they were looking at the food in front of them as though it had come from another planet. Johnny broke the ritual silence. “We’re never going home again, are we?” “We will, Johnny.” Mother grabbed Johnny’s small hand in hers. “We will. Once this is all over.” “When will that be?” “We don’t know yet, Johnny.” “Are we going to die?” “No, we’re not going to die. We’ll be all right.” Father didn’t speak. They sat for five minutes more in frozen, still silence. The only noise was that of Johnny’s nervous fidgeting, back and forth, back and forth, rocking in his chair, scratching his thighs with his hands, then balling them up into fists, clutching until his knuckles turned white. Mother and Father each sat much stiller than Johnny. They were like statues. The cataclysm broke the silence. It was as if a gigantic, supernal monster had wrought with planet-sized claws some great chasm in the very fabric of the universe. It was the sound of ten thousand hydrogen bombs detonating all at once. A great flash of light came through the blinds. And then the ground began to shake. The plates clinked together, wobbling on the small dinner table. The table legs shuddered up and down, up and down, teeth chattering. Johnny let out a shriek, a half gasp, half scream of blind terror. Mother did not let go of his hand as she pulled Johnny up from the table. She clutched him to her chest in the corner of the room. Soon Father joined them. He wrapped his arms around Mother, the two of them forming a protective membrane with Johnny in its center. The ground shook with greater intensity. Dust dislodged itself from the floorboards above. The heavens roared. And, just as suddenly as it was broken, silence descended once more upon the family in their still-standing summer home in South Haven, Michigan, rushing through space on the third planet from the sun. Gradually, slowly, the house stilled, settled, and the family disentangled themselves. “We’re alive,” said Johnny. His voice was small, launched straight from the beating heart in his throat. Mother began to laugh. Nervous, insane laughter turning quickly to sheer joy intermingled with desperate relief. Father joined in, followed, after a few moments, by Johnny himself, not wanting to be left out. “We’re alive,” Mother said. “We lived,” said Father. The laughter died down and Johnny began to cry, he had laughed so hard. Soon Mother was crying, then Father, too. They wept, clutching one another in the corner of the room, the cold dinner leering at them, neglected. “That must have been the nuke, then,” said Father, finally. “It must have,” said Mother. “I told you they’d stop it,” said Johnny. “That you did, Johnny. That you did,” Father said, smiling wanly in Johnny’s direction. “Should we go outside and see?” Before Johnny could speak, excitement and relief swimming in his eyes, mother interrupted. “No,” she said, “not yet. Let’s check the news first, it could still be dangerous out there.” Before Johnny and Father could so much as move, the television was switched on in a flurry of nervous hands. Nothingness. Static. Mother gave the television three meaningful wallops with the heel of her hand. “Let’s look out the window,” Father said, moving to the nearest set of shut blinds. “No!” cried Mother. “Let’s look in the morning, I mean. Come on, Johnny. It’s much past your bedtime.” She grabbed Johnny’s hand, half hidden traces of fear still in her eyes. “But I want to look!” “You can look in the morning, come on. A little sleep won’t hurt.” “But Mom!” “No buts, come on. And no looking through the window, either.” Father stood in the dining room, saying nothing as Mother struggled up the stairs with Johnny in her arms. Almost five minutes later she came back down, exhausted. “Why did you put him to bed?” Mother looked at Father, exasperated. “You said it yourself: anything could have happened out there. What if it didn’t work? Best to let him get some sleep thinking everything’s all right. It could be the last time.” “Oh,” said Father. “Yes,” she said, taking his hand, her ochre eyes meeting his for the first time that day. “Shall we?” * * * Together they waltzed onto the porch. “Dear God,” said Father. “It’s happened,” said Mother, clutching his hand tightly in hers. Heavy grey fog caked the planet. It fell, slowly, pale as snow. Dust and grey ash falling, cascading, gradually blotting out the sun, darker and darker, colder and colder. They couldn’t see any further than the end of the lawn. “They must have diverted it,” said Father. “We heard the nuke go off. Who knows where it landed. Bits and pieces of it could be anywhere by now.” Up above them, face pressed against cool bedroom window, Johnny watched the not-snow descend, weeping noiselessly as it blanketed his vision. #


(WP) The Scorpion’s Children El Scorpio was a huge name in my neighborhood; he was more a living legend than an actual person, to me. But his men and women, his children, as he called them, were different, just like he was. “We might be a gang, but we aren’t thugs. A gang may be what we started out as, but we’re a family now.” The voice was husky and soft, faintly accented; there was a musical quality to the man’s words. The day I found him in the kitchen, talking to my parents, I was already in a foul temper. School had run long and track practice had been especially brutal that day. “Come in here, son, won’t you? And watch it; I already told you to stop slamming that damn back door.” My father scowled at me, but it faded when he smiled at the man that was sitting at our worn kitchen table. My mother placed a cup of hot, steaming coffee in front of our guest, smiling sweetly. I watched our visitor, unable to help it, curiosity moving to replace the irritation I felt. “This kind young man has come here to make you an offer,” My mother said, and she smiled at him, her eyes misting over. I looked between the three of them, confused. “I don’t understand.” The man smiled at me, taking a cautious sip of coffee. “I’ve heard much about you, young man.” He said. To my untrained eye, he looked like a bruiser, someone who stood in dark corners waiting for orders from a loaded, mysterious boss. His tanned olive skin was almost entirely tattooed; there were even a few on his face. A bird, with its wings spread to take flight, peeked out from his shirt collar. When he realized where I was looking, he grinned, his cheeks warming as if he was embarrassed. “I’m El Scorpion, and I wanted to ask your parents if you wanted to intern at the youth center, once track ends. It would look good on a college resume, but I won’t force you.” Up this close, he didn’t look so threatening. Still, I was wary. I didn’t know El Scorpion from anything but rumor. So why was he interested in me to begin with? My suspicion must have showed on my face, because he laughed. “You’re not the first person I’ve asked, kid, and you definitely won’t be the last. But I’ve seen you around the neighborhood. You always help your neighbors. Hell, just a few weeks ago, you helped a kid fix up his broken bike chain, no questions asked.” I blushed, rubbing the back of my neck. I wasn’t anything special. I was just a kid in a huge town, a running junkie that fed my addiction through track and cross-country, looking for a fresh start. “I’m nothing special. Honestly. I was just being a good neighbor.” He was shaking his head before I was even finished with the sentence. “Think on it, will you? I can help you achieve your dreams.” Leaving his now cold and half drank coffee, he smiled and thanked my parents for their time, saying that he would come back soon on the way out.