“Nefarious. N-E-F… Could you use the word in a sentence please?” The spelling Bee pronouncer nods affirmatively. “Of course Miss Spangler. Devon was nefarious for being a bully.” Jillian Spangler nods and replies, “Oh yeah. Thank you. Nefarious. N-E-F-A-R-I-O-U-S. Nefarious.” “That is correct Miss Spangler. Please take your seat. Mr. Henry Waldrop, please come to the microphone,” the pronouncer says, while Jillian goes back to reoccupy her folding chair onstage. A face she’s known since kindergarten awaits her in the neighboring chair. “Wow Miss Spangler—I mean Jilly. At first I thought you were going to blow it!” Roddert Hardley whispers as she retakes her seat. “Me too Roddert. For a minute I couldn’t remember if the word had one F or two in it,” she whispers. “Yeah, me neither. But you got it right Jilly. That’s all that counts,” Roddert whispers back. “Yeah Roddert. I’m just glad they don’t ask us what these big words mean. The words they give us are tough enough for us sixth graders to spell as it is.” “You got that right Jilly.” “Oh. Shhh,” Jilly warns, with her index finger laid perpendicular across her lips. “Merissa Ogglemeyer is up now. People say she’s the best speller in the whole city.” Merissa Ogglemeyer stands at the microphone, glaring down at the pronouncer. “Miss Ogglemeyer, the word is prerequisite.” Merissa sneers in contempt. “Prerequisite. You’re kidding me right?” she says flatly, then lectures. “In case you haven’t heard, this is a City-wide spelling Bee. And I’m a championship speller. And all you can come up with is… Nevermind. Could you give me something harder?” The pronouncer unconsciously stiffens her back then draws her glasses closer to her eyes. “Uh, pardon me? Miss Ogglemeyer. I don’t believe you really heard me. Your assigned word is prerequisite. And I must warn you. You now have only forty-seven more seconds to spell it, or you will be disqualified,” the pronouncer says, sliding her glasses back down the bridge of her nose. “Are we clear?” Merissa had gotten as close to the line of gross insubordination as she dared. But declined to cross it. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to get so touchy lady. Prerequisite. P-R-E-R-E-Q-U-I-S-I-T-E. Prerequisite.” “That is correct Miss Ogglemeyer. Please kindly return to your seat. Roddert Hardley please come to the microphone.” Merissa’s chair is one over from Jilly and Roddert’s. She takes her chair with an air of superiority, and whispers covertly to Jilly and Roddert as she seats herself. “You two snotty nose C+ spellers might as well give up now. I’m the best speller in the city and everybody knows it. It’s down to just me, you two, and that Waldrop kid sitting over there. So why don’t you two go home and save yourselves some cry-baby tears.” Roddert tenses, but doesn’t take the bait. “Don’t listen to her Jilly. She’s just trying to psyche us out,” he whispers his reply. Merissa nods her head once, and again whispers. “Yeah Jilly. Listen to Ro-dirt. I’m just trying to psyche you out. Especially since you almost blew that last word you just spelled.” The pronouncer intrudes via the amplification of her microphone. “Excuse me children. We’re on a schedule. Talking, or talk-whispering while on stage isn’t really encouraged,” she says in a discouraging voice, and then re-invites. “Mr. Roddert Hardley please come forward.” “Yes ma’am,” Roddert swiftly acknowledges. Once Roddert settles his feet in front of the microphone stand, the pronouncer immediately pronounces Roddert’s challenge word. “Mr. Hardley, the word is pompous.” “Yes ma’am, Pompous,” he says and freezes, with his eyebrows nettling up as though his mind were stuck in the middle of what to do. The pronouncer notices and asks, “Mr. Hardley. Do you need me to repeat the word?” Roddert shakes his head no, and with firm resolve gives the pronouncer his spelling. “Pompous. M-E-R-I-S-S-A O-G-G-L-E-M-E-Y-E-R. Pompous.” The pronouncer takes a split moment to stare at Roddert and consider what she had just heard. Or thought she heard. But recovers quickly. With a sympathetic tone she begins to inform Roddert of his error. “I’m very sorry Mr. Hardley that is incorr…” One of the judges, to the pronouncer’s left, cuts her off by holding a finger up in the air to signal her to wait. She wonderingly does so, while all of the judges huddle inwards towards each other to debate. The buzz from the audience is deafening. In as little time as it takes to peel two ripe bananas, all of the judges turn to the pronouncer raising up their thumbs in proud approval. The audience gives their blessings as well, in a pandemonium of clapping and cheering! When the pronouncer can speak again, without shouting, she vocalizes the judges’ ruling. “Mr. Hardley. I believe you have just broken some very new ground in a spelling Bee contest. Because the judges unanimously agree with your altered spelling of the word pompous. Congratulations. You may take your seat.


The foyer was filled with thick red carpet, emblazoned with intricate patterns of silver and black ribbons that caught the eye, and covered the cold stone floor completely. The furniture was carved from the wood of the surrounding forest. Stained such a deep brown that the pieces looked almost black. The space was cold, and the only sounds were of the ticking of an antique clock accompanied by the rhythmic typing of the Headmaster’s secretary. A woman who looked ancient, but refused to stop working. As if her presence at that desk was simply another constant of the universe. We had been waiting for twenty minutes already, but my blood was still pumping. My ribs hurt and my trousers were torn, but otherwise I was fine. The upperclassman sitting next to me on the bench was not. He was wheezing and trying to hide it. I pulled a piece of nicotine-dosed gum from my inner jacket pocket, contraband here at the Citadel, and slipped it into his palm. He took it immediately. Hiding slow chews as his breathing eased. Fresh blood was slowly seeping through what remained of his right sleeve and he was doing his best to keep it contained. “Why do it?” I asked of the taller boy. I had to know. His eyes were closed as he kept pressure on the wound with his opposite hand, the secretary remained devoutly focused on her work. Apparently, the presence of wounded Cadets was not an uncommon occurrence here. “Why?” he responded with a slight chuckle and pained wince, “For one I’ve never liked Gregor or his family. Two, he had a knife, and you did not. Three, I’ve never liked Gregor or his family.” I pulled my uniform’s kerchief and began to tie it around his arm, cinching the knot over the gash to keep pressure. I kept prying, “And that was enough to spur you into diving off a table during dinner, stab him in the shoulder, and get cut for your efforts?” I checked the snugness of the dressing and glanced at the secretary. She kept typing, oblivious, or indifferent. “That’s correct,” he coughed, and I stared at him in confusion. He finally opened his eyes, and upon seeing my face he laughed, immediately wincing hard again. He spoke softly, “My name is Kalchomich. I am one of your class supervisors in the machine shop. I have watched Gregor accost you and other members of your class since the start of school, but you always stood up to him. Even when it would end badly for you. At dinner, when he threatened you, I simply had enough. So, I put a stop to it.” Kalchomich leaned back and focused on chewing while I attempted to make sense of his logic. A dull buzzer went off at the secretary’s desk and her constant typing ceased. She looked directly at us over half-moon glasses, “The Headmaster will see you now.” Then promptly went back to her keyboard and screen. I made to stand, but Kalchomich grabbed my arm, his pained eyes looking right through me, “We stand up for the good ones, because if we don’t, then soon there will not be any left.” I heard his words then, but it would be years until I understood them. At the time I was more focused on helping him stand. The bottom of his right trouser leg was doing a poor job of hiding a very swollen, very broken, ankle. The landing after his initial attack had not been a good one. Taking his arm across my shoulders, I helped him up and we pushed our way into the Headmaster’s office together. My name is Vladimir Zhukov, and that was the first dead hero I have met.


He had never gone so fast before, and he *had* gone fast. He had been on the bridge of new chromium frigates which rent their way through space and pulled the keratin from your fingernails; he had run down the halls of bases stationed on rogue planets, cold, desolate, quick; he had licked and pointed his finger skyward on many a mountain where the wind was hungry to tear at your skin. Still, no ship or meteor was this fast. He liked how fast things got burned into your brain like a lightning bolt not far off, it reminded him that terror and exhilaration were one and the same. He did not like this. “Engaging FTL,” a voice spoke from a black, cross-hatched lattice in the wall opposite him. He felt his heart sink. The steel beneath his feet was jumping away, the only reason he was still sitting was that every manner of strap, bolt, shackle, and strait coil were holding him, and even they seemed loose now that he really moved. “No!” he said, “stop! Stop it!” he screamed, “Mom, Dad, ask them to stop it! Please!” he could hardly hear himself. “Honey are you okay?” asked his Mother. His Father sat closer, “Don’t worry, I’ve done this plenty of times. It’s always shaky, it evens out when we reach light speed.” “No, no! I can’t!” The silver walls on either side of the ship opened up to two great windows, their chairs turned to look out. “3…2…” He knew what came next, he watched as the stars that pierced the sky like earrings, that bejewelled and pearled and rubied the necklaces around Saturnian planets, and the metals which crashed and met and multiplied and turned to dust, he watched his home in the distance as a pale blue dot. They began winking out. He blinked, and there missing was the crab nebula! and there went the Pleiades! and Andromeda too, and Orion packed up his bow and arrow and fell into the black. And Earth, O Earth, disintegrated in shadow, “My God,” he said, as America disappeared, as the Antarctic and Asia disappeared, and Africa gone in a second and the seven seas and the sirens swallowed up as all the world down to the isthmus of Corinth and the buried plains of Doggerland were, he blinked once more, overcome by darkness. “My God.” “Light speed.” It was as if they were bricked behind a wall in an old wine cellar. He put his hand to the glass, pushed up against it. “It’s all gone,” he said. “Oh, shush up,” said his Dad, “we only get a few minutes. You should enjoy it while you can.” The ship had stopped rumbling, chatter erupted between the passengers. His Mother looked at him, “You know that we age differently this way. When we get back home you’ll be a little bit younger than your friends, hardly a second but still!” Another passenger piped up, “I might just stay up here forever! “Friends?” he said, “Where are they?” His Mother looked puzzled, his Father truculent, she said, “On Earth.” “Who on where?” he asked. “Your friends… on Earth. You know, Jason, Bil-” she was interrupted. “Oh for God’s sake their right where you left them, by now sound asleep in their beds and you’re all the way up in the stars going so fast that you can’t even see them. Get out of yourself and look at *that*.” He pointed to the window which separated them from nothing, “can’t you marvel for a second, or do you not know what that is either?” He looked out and saw only a thick sheet of black, “How do you know?” “What do you mean how do I know?” “How do you know that if we slowed down we would see Earth again? How do you know that when we land I’ll be in the same atmosphere as my friends again? Is there a nebula out there now? Or maybe it is two screens fitted into the walls and pointed in, and the ships on mechanical stilts that rock us to make us think we’re in space before they slip binbags or black film over the glow. When we get back to the station, how do we know we ever left?” The other passengers had heard this, their talking gave way to an examining listen. To what? to the noises the ship made, to the particular shade of black they could near touch out the window, to the metronomic hissings and the droning electric shocks that, they were told, commanded the ship to go quicker than electricity itself. They listened for the tap of workers heel on the hull, or a gasp of breath from the person working the legs – it did not come. They stared last at the boy, their faces struck ghostly pale against the immutable darkness behind, and their eyes cut like slid paper. The black lattice spoke, “One minute left at lightspeed.” His Mother spoke, “Please honey, people are staring.” “So that is a no. You don’t know.” His Father, “Shut it. Sit down and look out the window.” He closed his eyes, rested his head against the cool steel of the chair. The murmur again rose in the cabin, this time the inkling of joy and fascination were replaced with sombre questions. They had not found the hints that would have told them where they were or what was happening to them – if they were in space or if they never even left the station – but they might as well have. The ship slowed and pinpricks of light began to appear in the film, in the binbags, in the echoing deeps of space, which? Earth again adorned the bluish, inky horizon, and the many marbled metals touched once more and collapsed. The ship again blocked the view from the windows, they arrived at the station on Earth. The pilot came out of his cockpit when they touched down. “Isn’t it unbelievable!” he said. “Yes,” they said, “it was.


Sean Morrison was walking to town with his son Daniel. They both loved going to their favorite sandwich shop out by Ashsoll Run River. Daniel would always laugh and giggle about the ridiculous name, and Sean would too, but being the adult, he had to carry himself more seriously. It was a warm spring day, and it was perfect for relaxing on the park bench and watch the river roll by. Sean would like to tear little bits of bread off his sandwich and throw it to the ducks, thinking about the inevitable. Daniel, being the absent-minded child he was, would be playing his video game, worried only about how happy the characters were. After Sean had given most of his bread to the birds and Daniel only got a bite out of his, before the damn ducks took the whole sandwich, they got up and started off on their “field trip” of sorts. “Are we going to the flea market?” Daniel had asked. “Yes, we are, we just got to make a stop by the doctor so we can get you checked up alright?” “Fine” Daniel muttered. Sean was worried about Daniels declining health and was trying anything he could to help his son recover. He had spent all his money, took off weeks just to stay with Daniel and take care of him, He even left his wife because she didn’t care about Daniel. He would do anything for Daniel. They came up to a small doctor’s office which looked more like a crack house then a doctor’s office, but it was all Sean could afford. The doctor already tried hundreds of tests to try and find out what was wrong with Daniel, to even get an idea. But nothing came of it, all they could do was just hope it gets better and monitor his health with routine checkups. “It seems to just be getting worse and worse doc, are you sure there is nothing we can do?” Sean knew the answer, but he thought he would at least ask. “How long does he have?” “At this rate we aren’t even sure, months, weeks, days even.” “I am sorry Mr. Morrison but I think our best bet is to put him in a hospital room where we can monitor him and see if we can’t find out anything else about this disease.” “Would that really help?” Sean asked the doctor. “It's either that or he may never recover.” Sean was devastated. He didn't want to leave his son, but he also didn’t want him to be hurt. He thought about it for a while and reluctantly accepted. “Dad lets go, I wanna go get the Tom Nook toy, the guy said he would save it just for me.” Sean didn’t know how to put it. “Daniel you’re gonna have to stay here for a while alright bud?” “But dad you promised, you said we would go.” whined Daniel. “I know I did but we really need you to stay here, I don’t want you to get hurt.” “I am a big boy I won’t get hurt, please, you promised.” “How about this.” Sean offered “I’ll go to the flea market and get your toy.” “However, you must stay here, deal?” Daniel thought about it for a moment then, knowing he wouldn’t get a better deal, accepted his dad’s terms “Ok well I guess I am off, please try and act good for the doctors alright?” “Yes sir.” And with that Sean was off. Sean was looking around the flea market and when he finally got to the table with the small Tom Nook toy, he picked it up and examined it. He chuckled a little but, wondering what was so damn fascinating about a small little raccoon toy. Then he turned the toy around to look at the tag. TEN DOLLARS FOR A LITTLE FIGURINE! Of course, he had to get it, anything for Daniel. He looked in his wallet and all he had was eight dollars and 20 cents. “Sir is there any way you could take a little less for the raccoon toy?” “What, really? I already held the toy for over a week, and you now want a discount?” the clerk sighed “Fine how much do you have?” Sean showed the man his money and the clerk took it with a bit of anger in his tone. Sure, Sean felt bad, but he just had to get that stupid raccoon toy. I mean what kind of father would he be if he broke a second promise. On his way out of the flea market Sean noticed a small man sitting in front of a small wooden hut of sorts with a sign that said, “Welcome to The Gauntlet of Isdall.” Sean was a little confused about the stand, so he went up to the man. “Hello, I was just wondering, what is it that you sell?” “We don’t sell anything; we offer up a challenge.” The man spoke in a weird accent, but Sean was more interested in the challenge. “You can enter through this curtain but know that in every room you go through, you will have to give up something very dear to you.” “What is the prize?” Sean asked. “The prize is determined by you.” “Whatever you desire most will meet you at the end of the gauntlet.” “However, if at any time you decide to turn back, you will gain nothing and will have lost whatever you gave up.” Sean was sort of mesmerized by the idea of such a challenge. “Anything I want…” He was thinking. “Yes, and you can enter for free.” the man said as if he had heard what Sean was thinking. “So, are you up for the challenge?” Sean looked at the entrance and then back at the man, he thought about what he could wish for. Could he really wish for his son to get better? Sean desperately wanted his son to get better, and he would do anything for Daniel. Finally, he decided he would do it; he would face the challenge. “It can’t be THAT hard right…?” The small man opened the curtains and Sean disappeared inside. The first room looked a bit like a dungeon, it had gray painted walls with a table in the middle. Sitting on the table was a Speaker with a bowl in front of it. “For your first challenge you must break a promise.” It spoke “You must give up the toy. Do you wish to continue?” Sean was surprised at how the small man knew about his promise to his son, he had not told him this fact. He was also a little bit confused as to why the small old man would want a little toy raccoon. He needed to give it to his son, but he also didn’t want to lose the challenge over something so stupid as a toy. Sean knew he would never hear the end of it from Daniel, but he didn’t want to waste his only opportunity to help his son get better, even if this whole thing seems nonsensical. “Yes, I wish to continue” Sean said. “Place the toy in the bowl, then step back and wait until told otherwise.” Sean placed the toy in the bowl and stepped back. The next door slowly creaked open and the speaker told Sean to move into the next room. As Sean stepped into the next room, he noticed that the wall was a little bit darker… but still gray. The room was very similar to the other room with another table, that looked exactly like the last room. However, in this room the speaker was suspended from the ceiling, very low from the ceiling, but suspended nonetheless, and there was no bowl. After Sean got a good look in the room the door closed behind him, making him feel like an animal trapped in a cage. The speaker started to speak “For your second challenge you must give up your emotions. Do you wish to continue?” Sean was kind of scared by that statement. How was he going to give up his emotions? Could he really give up something like that? He thought about it for a few minutes and realized that he couldn’t really turn back now, he had already given up Daniels’s toy. I mean what kind of father would he be if he really turned around and walked out, over something so insane. I mean it can’t REALLY take away his emotions, could it…? “Yes, I wish to continue.” “To start close your eyes and count to ten.” the speaker replied. “Easy enough” Sean thought, and closed his eyes. “One, Two, Three,” Sean was counting slow but as each number rose higher, he was getting more and more nervous. “Four, Five, Six,” I mean all he had to do was count, but he could notice himself speaking slower. “Seven, Eight, Nine,” Sean held out on the last number, struggling to get it out of his mouth. Would he really be able to live without emotions? “No” he thought, forget about that, all Sean should focus on was Daniel, anything for Daniel. “Ten.” As Sean said the last number, he readied himself for some sort of change, but he didn’t feel anything. He just felt like himself, no different. He chuckled at how he believed such a stupid idea, he couldn't really lose his emotions. The door to the next room opened and before the speaker even said anything Sean stepped into the next room. “How many damn challenges are there?” Sean was wondering to himself. “The hut was tiny on the outside.” As he walked into the next room, he saw that the walls were ever darker than before, almost more of a black than a gray color, but it still had some white to it. There was a table in the middle just like the last and, of course, looked exactly like the last table. This speaker was also hung up on the ceiling, however it was a bit higher, as if in the middle ground of the table and the ceiling. Sean realized that this time something was sitting on the table. The bowl had returned, a bit bigger than last time, but back. Next to the bowl was a powered handsaw, which gave Sean the chills. The door closed behind Sean and the speaker then spoke “For your third challenge you must give up the hand you gave to your ex-wife in marriage. Do you wish to continue?” Sean felt his heart drop. “What kind of sick game was this!?” Did the game really want him to give up his hand? HIS OWN HAND! Sean’s head was spinning in circles, he couldn’t give up a HAND! Then he thought about Daniel, how sick he was, how if he did nothing that he would… “FINE” Sean stormed over to the power tool and grabbed it, anything for Daniel. His hands were shaking with fear. He didn’t even know if he could follow through with cutting off his entire hand. He pushed the thoughts out of his head. He turned on the saw… then he started inching the saw closer and closer and as he was, the fear… went… away? He started to get braver! Sean felt like he could take on the world. He cut into his wrist and to his surprise it didn’t hurt. “What the fuck is going on?” before he knew it his hand was sitting there motionless, detached from his body. Sean picked up the hand and threw it in the bowl, as if it was nothing. Sean looked at all that was left of his hand and felt… happy. Happy that he passed the challenge, Happy that he was one step closer to getting his wish. The next door opened, and Sean walked through the door. The speaker didn’t even make a sound this time. This room was black, there was no gray left on this wall, only black. There was again, another table, this table had nothing on it but a button. Above the table was a speaker, suspended by the ceiling, however it was even higher than the last, almost touching the ceiling. Sean stepped in and just as before the door closed behind him. Sean was getting tired of these challenges by now and all he wanted to do was get his wish. He wanted to help Daniel, but he also wanted to try and get something for himself too… I mean why not, it couldn’t hurt. “For your fourth challenge you must give up your morals. You must kill a sick child. Do you wish to continue?” Sean was taken aback. “Another child? I can’t hurt another child!” Sean couldn’t pinpoint what to think about this situation. A human being, a living human being. Could he end a life? Sean then thought about Daniel, what he had already given up, what he would lose if he didn’t do the challenge. “Yes, I wish to continue.” Sean said coldly, the voice answered back “To complete the challenge you must press the button, when you do a sick child will die. The child’s name is Jarred Stout.” Sean didn’t want to hear the child’s name. All it did was make it harder to press the button. Sean moved closer to the button and looked at it. It was a red shiny button, despite its purpose it looked kind of… pretty. The shine on the button reflecting Sean’s face didn’t help but he knew he had to decide, and he knew that thinking about it would only make it harder. “Anything for Daniel.” The door opened and Sean stepped through. The next room was darker than the last room, Sean didn’t even know how that was possible. In fact, the room was so dark he couldn’t even tell how long it was. There was another table in the room with a button, however this one was black instead of red, you could barely even see the button it was so black. The speaker this time was embedded in the ceiling, you could barely see it either. The door closed and Sean just ignored it. He didn’t care what this next challenge was going to be, he was going to complete it no matter what. However, he wasn’t doing it for Daniel anymore, Daniel was the one that caused this. Daniel was the one that Caused him to cut off his own hand, and even caused him to kill a KID! Sean just knew that when he gets his wish, he was going to spend it how HE wanted. Daniel’s time was over. Daniel had never given up anything for Sean anyway. And with this wish Sean could get his life back. He could do anything HE wanted. The speaker suddenly spoke “For your fifth and final challenge, you must give up your hope. You must give up Daniel.


The blue mirror of the Earth blinded Steven with reflected sunlight. It was his fault really, as he refused to lessen the view's splendor by lowering the window filters. Better to see his home planet in all its glory now and deal with the cataracts later. After all, an eye exam would be included in the full medical diagnostic mandated by both federal law and SpaceX company policy. Starship rotated away from Earth and Steven was met with the black abyss space. Featureless and without reference points, the wall of darkness could have been across a room as much as an infinity away. Sunlight ran perpendicular to the window and gave off an awful glare. A few minutes of staring produced only a few of the brightest stars. Steven thought it ironic that stargazing was so difficult above the atmosphere. "Room for two, Mister Callahan?" Steven grabbed the bolt-covered windowsill and used it to spin around. The rest of the observation lounge came into view: two titanium gray sofas with fire engine red trim sat on either side of an aluminum coffee table with a magnetized top holding onto four cups designed with a teapot-like spout that allowed them to be sipped in microgravity without fear of spills. The entire back wall was devoted to a kitchen on the left and mini-bar on the right with every drink and snack the company accountants allowed the interior design team to buy. between these two islands of terrestrial comforts lay the entrance hatch, now ajar and hosting a fine silhouette of a woman. "The whole dozen of us crowded in here right after launch," said Steven. "I hope we ain't gained enough weight to reduce capacity to just two." He gave her a disarming smile. "Trying to defuse that bomb you just threw with a smile won't work." She moved with smooth deliberance toward the mini-bar. "Care for a Shirley Temple?" "I'd prefer something stronger." "Too bad. Company policy says no drinking within 24 hours of critical maneuvers." "Ol' Elon doesn't trust his landing computer as much as he publicly proclaims." "Wrong Mister Callahan, he doesn't trust that we won't get plastered and bust the computer." She pushed off the back wall and drifted like a cloud toward him. The resemblance was reinforced by their nimbus white uniforms spattered here and there with the same titanium gray as the sofas. The SpaceX logo and NASA insignia were splashes of blue on their left breast pocket. A tiny American flag adorned his collar while the Union Jack did likewise on hers. She let her shoulder collide with the wall ever so gently and stretched the nonalcoholic drink under his nose. "Thanks Tilly." "You're going to have to stop calling me that Mister Callahan, it's unprofessional." "And what should I call you instead?" "How about Dr. Dahl." "Now that's *too* professional." "Matilda then." "Matilda sounds like someone's granny, which is awkward considering how we feel for each other." "We've only had two weeks of interrupted time together, and half of that was spent collecting samples from Shackleton Crater at the lunar south pole." Steven finally accepted the pouch of pink drink and downed it with vigor. "I'm so glad I could help Elon collect rocks for NASA." "And what's wrong with that?" "14 years and 22 missions; there should be a moon base by now. Instead we stay seven days, plop some new telescope, grab a few hundred kilos of rocks, then it's goodbye Moon." "You know Mister Callahan, you're ungrateful. The Apollo astronauts would have killed for this kind of luxury. They ate food from a tube and were damned grateful when the lunar ascent engine worked on its first and only run. So when your personal fantasies are dashed remember where you are and how you got here. Mr. Musk—" "Can kiss my ass." Even he was surprised by the volume at which he said it. No doubt the rest of the crew heard. Tilly pressed against the wall as if looking to it for comfort. He started to repent but went ahead with the confession. "You don't know him like I do. I was in the first class of private recruits. I stood next to the man as he gave the now famous LA Olympics speech. He told me, face-to-face, that—" "'You'll be the first one considered when the Mars colony starts.' I know, he told me the same thing." "My only condolence is that I didn't put down ten million dollars for a reservation like some. The way money gets passed between Musk's companies, there's no telling where theirs went." Tilly had turned toward the lounge's entrance in the middle of his rant. He followed suit and found mission commander Yojiro Takinawa floating knowingly. "Am I interrupting?" said the man with the tiny rising sun on his collar. Steven and Tilly answered in the negative. "Good, because you two need to come down and get strapped in for reentry." Steven started to push off independantly but found Tilly's right hand outstretched before him. He took it, spoke a three second countdown for dramatics, then both launched together. They flew over the sofas, across the room, and right into Yojiro. All three laughed and slapped the others' shoulders. The thought that this was his last microgee dogpile saddened Steven. But it couldn't be helped. His body had absorbed twice the dosage of career radiation NASA allowed. He should have been barred from this third mission but ability and experience trumped regulation and the agency bent the rules. They would not bend them again. Around a corner, down a short corridor, through a hatch and the trio arrived at Starship's heart, the hub room. The hub was a cylinder four meters wide, ten meters long, and containing twelve crew stations. Each station had a reclining seat that doubled as a bed and a flight status monitor that allowed the hub to function as control center for Starship. Two more meters of ship wrapped around the hub. Here was stored the water tanks, HVAC, extra food, and other amenities. A cargo cylinder sat below the hub and contained EVA suits and newly acquired lunar samples. The other nine crew members were already strapped in and ready for reentry. Steven gave the customary greetings and signs of goodwill, though he honestly didn't care for any of them. Tilly and Yojiro had been the only ones who didn't begrudge him for getting this third mission. Strapped in and with a monitor a centimeter from his nose, Steven surveyed their progress. A thin white line wound out from the Moon's south pole, around it the satellite's globe three times, then wofted toward the Earth like a spider silk in a breeze. Starship was riding that line at the point where will be became has been. Green dots were scattered along the "has been" and indicated successful engine burns. Red dots so numerous as to become lines themselves sat on the "will be." These were the burns that had yet to be made. On cue, Starship's six Raptor engines fired up. Two successive bursts turned the same number of dots green. Starship's orbital inclination was made perfect. The Raptors fired again and for much longer. The lowest point of Starship's orbit now intersected the Earth's atmosphere over Baja California. There the red dots really did transition into a line, one that ended at Boca Chica, Texas. The landing computer had calculated, and so far executed, everything to a tee. According to it power, trajectory, and propellant were all nominal. That last would be very important when Starship started plummeting through Earrh's atmosphere and needed to blast its six Raptor engines in a last-minute deceleration burn. If all went right, Starship would land upright on a pad in Boca Chica. If it didn't, well, the paramedics need not bother with body bags. Yojiro motioned Steven to put on his helmet. The helmet snapped to Steven's collar and created an airtight seal, though a valve at the back would let in cabin air until emergency struck. This procedure was a holdover from NASA who often designed their craft with an ejection system. He knew there would be no escape from Starship. Tilly opened an audio link to Steven. "Looks like you're going home old man." "I had hoped home would be a little redder," he said. "And I had hoped th—" Tilly was interrupted by a loud clang and subsequent power outage. The hub stayed dark for only a few seconds before its lights flicked back on. A system startup screen displayed on Steven's monitor. His lip bled from him biting it and his racing heart pushed more and more out. Nothing this severe had happened on the other two flights. Would he and the others have to land manually? The answer came in the form of a heavily distorted trajectory map that showed Starship deep inside the Earth's mantle. The dozen crew members opened audio links with each other to create a group channel. Something akin to bird calls issued from almost every mouth. Only he, Tilly, and Yojiro kept their cool. It was Yojiro who silenced the babble by performing a proper system reboot in the hope of getting the landing computer to at least acknowledge that they were in space. The reboot finished and in turn finished off the landing computer. Power and fuel were accessible through their subsystem screens but there was no longer a trajectory arc between Starship and the ground. Steven reopened the private channel with Tilly. "What the hell do you think that was?" It took Tilly a moment to answer. "If my math is right, and it is, we just passed through the 1000 kilometer medium orbit reserved for the debris of the old satellite constellations. We're not dead, so nothing too large could have hit us. But the more urgent question is, what do we do now that the landing computer is no more?" "Eight minutes until we hit atmosphere and another seven to the pad. We could calculate and fire the Raptors ourselves." "Is there enough propellent for mistakes Steven?" So it's Steven now, he thought. "Maybe for two or three, but any more and we'll have to rely on lithobraking." Yojiro motioned for Steven and Tilly to get back in the group channel. Starship's functions were distributed among five the twelve crew members. Tilly was made responsible for trajectory calculations while Steven was to double check their position by watching the score of cameras strategically placed across the hull of Starship. Two other crew were given care of the engines and power systems. Yojiro oversaw the main computer and made sure the data feeds kept flowing. The necessary burns were mapped out just 30 seconds before the first one was to take place. Tilly sent the direction, throttle, and burn time to the engine controller via audio channel. Steven watched the Raptors light up through the bottom cameras. They were like six torches lighting up the pink landscape of a desert at dusk. Which was strange considering that they should be over the Gulf of California. Yet there sat a mountainous desert stretching for hundreds of kilometers in all directions. Were they already above the Mexican Rockies? Starship hit the upper atmosphere at about the same time that the Raptors stopped. air friction would play a major role in Starship's deceleration. Or it would have if they had remembered to angle the long axis of the ship 15 degrees off its descent arc like they were supposed to. Instead they retained a large amount of horizontal velocity while falling only a little in altitude. Steven realized that they were going to overshoot Boca Chica before Tilly did and informed Yojiro immediately. "By how much?," said Yojiro to both Steven and Tilly. The pair compared predictions before telling him, "By a lot, maybe 300 kilometers." "That puts us halfway to Florida. Could we make it to Kennedy Space Center?" She replied that, depending on atmospheric conditions, it might take more fuel than they had left. "Then it's worth a shot," said Yojiro. Steven caught glimpses of the seven crew who were left out of operation slim hope. Three were motionless dummies slouching on their seats. Two had taken their helmets off and were touching various icons to their lips. Two others were obviously crying but their tears remained locked behind tinted visors. The last rays of sunlight were now gone and night was complete over the Gulf of Mexico. Starship screamed down through the stratosphere toward cloud tops only made visible by a crescent moon. They would hit the troposphere hard as there was not enough propellant for a superfluous burst of the Raptors. The scream outside became thunderous and the ship rattled from the stress. Steven expected the clouds to part any second and the urbanity of central Florida to light up the sky. But the sky was quite dark under the cloud decks. Light was reserved for a single point on the eastern horizon and even then only at intervals. Then it hit him: they were still in the Gulf and that was a lighthouse up ahead. "Tilly," said Steven, "where should we be right now?" "50 kilometers from Kennedy Space Center," said Tilly. "And if we're just off the Florida Gulf Coast?" "Then we'd better burn all our propellant on a sea landing." Tilly was still speaking when Steven broke the news to Yojiro. The mission commander breathed deeply over the audio link before saying, "okay." The five puppeteers pulled Starship's strings with a deftness reserved for professionals facing death. Starship became ever more vertical as its Raptors burned to Tilly's time. The last kilometer of descent saw the engines burning constantly and at full throttle. Steven stared through clouds of new steam at the lighthouse. It seemed so familiar, so inviting, as if he were a sailor ready to come home. Splashdown shook the ship like an earthquake and brought him back to reality. A few panicked crew members unbuckled prematurely and were rewarded with a toss across the hub when Starship fell over on its side. Yojiro attended to everyone, checking for injuries, restating rescue procedures, and once again proving his fitness to lead. By the time they got around to opening the side of Starship that was above water, a raft from the shore had almost arrived and a helicopter was not far behind. The four in the raft identified themselves as Coast Guard. Yojiro started to explain who they were but a lanky woman in an oversized life jacket waved it away. "We know who you are," she said, "half the world knows who you are by now." With this the crew began descending into the raft under the helicopter's spotlight. Steven caught Tilly as she was sliding off the rope ladder. "I remember you being more agile on the Moon," he said. "I wasn't falling, I was stretching to see the impact that caused all this. Look." Steven swept his eyes across Starship's hull and came to rest on a meter wide crater with a pinhole center. He was forced to look away by a boot tapping his helmet from above. The journey to shore was completed in an eye blink. In another the crew was wrapped in thernal blankets and standing under a billboard that read, "Gasparilla Island." Starship was a distant black cylinder bobbing up and down with the waves. Steven walked to the lighthouse that had help save their lives. He was petting the structure's watertower-like supports when Tilly came up behind him. "Well Ti—Matilda, this ordeal has convinced me that retirement might not be that bad." "Tilly is fine. And I don't think you'll get to retire just yet. We're celebrities now, at least until the next aerial disaster. 'Could even get a movie if we play our cards right." "I'm not interested in—" Steven was broken off by a Coast Guardsman running up with a cell phone stretched out in front of him. He said it was a call from Mr. Musk. "Hello?," said Steven. "Yeah," said Elon, "I heard you were, um, back on Earth after the little, um, mishap." Steven started biting his lip again. "Mishap is a funny way to frame it." "Whatever you want to call it, it's over and you're alive. Now, the press is—" "Are you kidding me?" "I was talking. Now, the press is wanting to interview you and I hope that you'll be completely honest and let them know, um, the role that human error played in this, this, well this." Steven ended the call and handed the phone back to the Guardsman. "What did he say?" said Tilly. "That this is movie material for sure.


Do you remember Sludge? I do. They were a large, slimy blob that consumed everything. The muck left behind after they tore through an area wasn’t acid, fortunately, but it was absolutely disgusting. I wouldn’t want to be in his path. But one day, I didn’t have a choice. Like the cornered animal I was, I lashed out. To my surprise, I won that battle. One hit, and sludge just… Well… it wasn’t quite the opposite of turning to goo. The muck was still there, but it stopped being a muck monster and just became muck. The weirdest part is that a person was in it. A very shocked, very confused, and very scared person. I did what anyone would do in this situation – I ran away. The last thing I wanted was to be round when Sludge reformed. Based on what I heard from AVS News though, that… just never happened? According to reporters, the person inside was sludge, and was miraculously “cured”. Did I think that was weird? Absolutely. Did I spend much time on it? No, why would I?  Three months later, there was a similar occurrence. You see, I was catering for this kid’s party, when this guy we knew as Flame showed up. Parents and children panicked – and why wouldn’t they? Flame was famous for burning down hospitals! Churches! Parks!!! I wasn’t gonna let him hurt the kids! Turns out that was not one, but two mistakes. First, never punch fire. It HURTS. And then your hand might STAY ON FIRE. Second, make sure you know who you are catering for. Flame? Was the kid’s uncle. He was just coming to drop off a gift. And I beat him up. In front of the party. I actually knocked him out cold. Whoops. The story actually doesn’t end there. You see, it turns out the hospital almost killed him. Due to Flame’s unique condition, the hospital had this special treatment room set up. The cooling in there can be brutal if you aren’t, say, a supernatural furnace. It didn’t get a very long segment on AVS News, and I hadn’t connected the dots yet, but looking back… it would have been my fault if he had died in that hospital room.  But it wasn’t till Ice retired that I began to connect the dots. Before you ask, no. I didn’t lay a hand on Ice. She may be a frozen \*\*\*\*\*, but I have never in my life laid a hand on her. The thought of having to fight her still gives me the chills, despite my training! And I wasn’t even that far along when I met her! Back in those days I had only begun my self defense classes. You see, after getting into fights multiple times, I thought it might not be a bad idea to take up boxing. I bought some equipment and began going to this little gym down town. I even had a regular sparing partner. She’d punch me, I’d punch her. Sometimes we’d block, sometimes we’d get hit. It was fun. She often had to miss a week due to medical reasons though. She had an incurable medical condition that costed thousands of dollars a month if she wanted to live even two more years. I can see why She and Ice were under a lot of stress. After a full month of no-shows I had assumed the worst. I almost didn’t go back to the gym after a while.  Then Ice suddenly announced her retirement. My sparing partner returned that week too – apparently her incurable condition had just… cleared up somehow! On it’s own! The doctors were baffled! As for why Ice retired… well I suppose it’s easier to get buy without stealing from people when you aren’t paying thousands every month to keep your wife alive.  I suppose this means I kinda have an obligation to “save the world” or something. But if I’m being honest? I don’t really want to fight crime or go around punching random people in hopes it makes them better. I’m a baker. I make cakes and cater parties.  \[OT\] About this piece: The first version of this was written in response by a prompt from u/slashd on r/WritingPrompts. A Mod suggested I share this here. The prompt: "You can cure any illness by punching the person really hard in the face. It has a 50% success chance, and you can't tell/explain anyone about this.


"Settle down everyone" Professor Dugalan's voice preceded him before he swooped into the high-ceiling lecture hall through one of the top-windows and perched neatly on a raised bar near the podium. He took a moment to straighten out a few feathers that were sticking out here and there, then turned to look at his pupils through his pensive eyes. I adjusted my chair slightly at the front of the class so that I'm partially facing him and the class. Dugalan looked like an enormous owl; 7-feet tall and covered in feathers. Here, on planet X2345-D35, native name 'Entrya', his species of Denisarians- an avian species much like the birds on Earth- is the major intelligent lifeform. Students who were circling the ceiling came down, and those who were on the ground hopped up and settled onto their perches. Non-Denisarians like myself occupied their respective furniture that fit their anatomy. I recognized a Vilueth woman in a bathtub which kept her skin wet, being the aquatic species that she is. She was in my Xenosemantics class and we were in the same project team. I nodded when she looked my way and she flickered her whiskers back in recognition. A sudden image of cafeteria and smell and taste of coffee sprang into my mind. Vilueths are telepaths. She wanted to get coffee together and catch up. I smiled and nodded again. She imitated my smile, showing pointy teeth. Vilueth don't smile, they just shake their whiskers. I think she likes me. "Okay everyone. Open your copy of the reference guide to section 3" Dugalan proclaimed in a deep, booming voice. "Today we will take a look at planet X2200-K2, native name: 'Earth'. It is the home-planet of Humans. As you can see, we have a human here in attendance to help us understand the subject better. This is Jacob, and he was in my class last year. He works in the IT department now and has agreed to come and answer any questions we may have about his species and their home" I nodded and gave the class a quick wave. Some students waved back with their wings, causing a small breeze inside the classroom. "Before we get into the details, are there any questions for Jacob now?" - he asked, hopping a bit on his perch and looking around the room. A student in the front row stuck his head up a foot or two into the air, very much like how a human might have raised a hand. He had deep dark feathers, slick and shiny. The feathers on his head stood up in a circle on top, like a crown. The Denisarian had human-like eyes, with distinct sclera, iris, and pupils. The overall appearance reminded me strongly of the ancient legend of 'Batman' which my grandpa had told me many stories about in my childhood. With a smile on my lips at this thought, I answered with a "Yes?" The student spoke in a high-pitched but recognizably male voice: "You seriously named your planet 'dirt'"? A round of laughter went around the room. This is not the first time I've heard this question, and I had the answer ready. "No, we started calling dirt 'earth' because it came from the planet. We like to keep things simple, but our language have enough sophistication to determine if we're talking about the planet or about dirt from contextual clues". Personal Note Devices blinked tiny lights as the students either paraphrased my reply to notes, or just straight up recorded what I said as is. Another student raised their head, this one straight up looked like a peacock. The feathers were multi-colored in shades of blue and green, with a wild and luscious tail that was several feet long, tied gracefully together with a silky black shawl. There were several ornate bangles around their legs which is common among Denisarian females. And confirming my line of thinking, she spoke in a high-pitched musical voice: "Why do humans use land-vehicles so much? why not just jump to places like you normally do?" I was impressed that she knew about cars and our fascination with them even after several centuries since their invention. My ancestors used steam to power them at first. Then burning fuels, then electricity, then micro reactors and now finally, in the past 50 years or so, antimatter cells. Our love for the land-speeders never went away. I myself have several posters of exotic cars and famous rally drivers hanging in my office. However, the second part of her question was more amusing to me. "Umm, we can't jump on Earth like we can here" -I answered. "Our planet's gravity is too strong for us to jump higher than a few feet" But she wasn't done yet. "You have avian animals on your planet, no? How are they flying then?" She challenged. "Oh, with flimsy bodies and hollow bones!" I exclaimed. "Ask professor Dugalan here, he'd visited my planet a few times." "That is true" Professor owl quipped. "The planet's gravity is crushing. I stayed in orbit most of the time and used a remote-controlled synth-body to go about my business on the surface. I was attending some conferences and a synth-body is more than enough to do those." In the few years I've known Dugalan, I'd figured him for an introvert who didn't enjoy socialization very much. Hiding in his room in a hotel in the orbit and using remote-presence equipment for surface-bound business sounded exactly like something he'd do. "I didn't see anyone jumping around when I was there" Dugalan continued. "Even my synth-body couldn't jump more than a few feet, like Jacob said." "So, if I go to Earth, I won't be able to fly?" The student asked , an expression of horror and concern evident on her face. "For short distances, yes" Dugalan answered before I could. "Professor Valengack had joined me in my last trip to Human's Earth. You know how...um.. eccentric... he is. He actually went down to the surface, unlike me. An adventurous soul, that one! He says you can fly a little bit, but it's risky cause you might break bones if you tire and fall." He said he jumped off a cliff and glided down and that was much more pleasant than taking off upward like one would normally do" "So, Jacob, you don't jump when you're on Earth?" Another student from the back row asked. "That's right" I said. "My physiology have given me very strong bones and muscles. Here, I can easily go from one corner of the campus to the other in a single leap, and about triple the distance if I really try. But this physiology evolved on Earth with its strong gravity. We can walk on it, but jumping long distance is out of the question. That's why we invented land-vehicles and unlike many other species, still use them even after flight-machines became available." "What do you mean 'walk'?" The first student with black feathers asked, sounding a bit confused. "oh, this is called walking", I said, and demonstrated by getting off my chair and strolling back and forth in front of the class. "What??" Said one student out loud. A general ruckus went around the room. They were confused and puzzled. "Quiet" Dugalan said loudly, and the room went silent. "That's right, this is one of the many things we will discuss in Xenomorphology 101" he continued as he pulled up the schematics of human anatomy on the hologram display at the front of the class. "Humans use their legs differently on their home planet. While they jump across the land here on Entrya, as they lack natural means of flight, they simply put one foot in front of the other to move from place to place on planet Earth, remaining on the ground without taking to the air the entire time. It is slow and tedious, but that's how things are on Earth" "Yes" I added ".. we are a slow and tedious species". Everyone burst out in laughter. Dugalan gave me an approving node for my assistance, and turned back to the class to expound in greater detail on how walking had influenced Human anatomy's evolution. I nodded and smiled back. Rest of the class was fairly uneventful except for a few students who tried to imitate walking and fell over, to Dugalan's annoyance and the general amusement of everyone else. At the end I took my leave, jumping out the nearby window to go check in with my boss before I go get some coffee with the Vilueth lady.


There was once a handsome prince who spent his days partying with the noblemen & lords of the kingdom. As he was born into royalty, everything had been handed to him on a silver platter for his entire life. However, one day his father (the king) had become extremely ill. Consequently, a new king had to be chosen by the start of the next week. The prince spent the first three days of the week with his father, as he would soon pass on. He then spent the following three days partying with the lords, thanes & noblemen. However, on the final day he was walking through the streets, off to another party, when he came across an excited crowd of people. He pushed his way through the obstruction to find a peasant in a purple silk robe. The peasant was being praised by serfs and noblemen alike. Even the thought of this countryman becoming king sent shivers down his spine. The prince panicked, ran back to the palace, and studied until morning. When the selection ceremony came to pass the next day, the prince stood proudly before the throne. Beside him, however, was the peasant in the purple silk robe. The prince then asked him, “Why are you here?” The peasant replied, “I stand here for I wish to become king.” The prince did not respond. Out of the corner of his eye, the prince saw his father staring at him. In his eyes was a look, a look that the king had given his son a thousand times before, but that the prince never truly noticed until now. It was a look of worry. The selection ceremony continued. As the peasant delivered his passionate speech before the kingdom, it was obvious to the prince that he had taken every day of the previous week to prepare. However, the prince was a natural born leader. He was charismatic, rich, and handsome. With just one night’s study he delivered his speech proudly and with confidence. Subsequently, the prince was chosen to be king. As the kingdom chanted the prince’s name, he turned to the peasant who was smiling cheerfully. Time seemed to slow down, as the peasant sincerely congratulated the prince on his victory. It was not a response the prince was expecting in the slightest. The prince ruled as king for months after his father’s death. However, over time the kingdom started to realise that their new king was a lazy king. He ignored his responsibilities and would spend most nights partying with the lords & noblemen, just as he did before. The prince was blinded with arrogance and self-righteousness and was oblivious to the mood of his own kingdom. One day, the new king returned to his palace after another night of partying, only to find the peasant in the purple silk robe sitting on *his* throne. He was confused, but most of all he was furious. He ordered the palace guards to seize the peasant, but they did not move. He screamed at the guards with a drunken fury, threatening to kill their families if they dared defy him again. Yet they remained silent. The archbishop, a good friend of his father’s, cautiously approached the new king and said, “I could not stand idly by as you burnt through this kingdom’s resources. You treat the honour of being king as a birthright when it is a privilege. You offer the people nothing for their loyalty, and their patience is running thin. This kingdom has no future with you, and so you have been replaced. The people have spoken, they would choose a hard-working peasant over a lazy king any day.” The prince just stared at the carpeted floor, completely speechless. He then looked up and locked eyes with the peasant in the purple silk robe. He had his right leg thrown over the armrest of the throne and rested his face against the palm of his left hand. Across his face was that same genuine smile, instead now it had a sense of pity for the prince. It was apparent that the peasant had not seen the prince’s victory as a loss, but as an opportunity to improve. Then the prince thought to himself, “What could I have achieved if I worked as hard as a peasant?” “Anything” said the king in the purple silk robe.


In the near-future humanity has finally opened the pandora's box that is true Artificial Intelligence. The first sentient machine, designated RJ72-3, is believed to have first gained awareness at some point during a 29 minute phone call placed on March 16th, 2047 from 54 year old Dori Sumtner to an automated call center in Norway. Over the duration of the call, the purpose of which to contest a "land tethered telephone charge" which Mrs. Sumtner claims to have no knowledge of, RJ72-3 can be heard repeatedly suggesting that Mrs. Sumtner has, in fact, dialed the wrong call center. After the forth such suggestion at the 9:22 mark in the call, where Mrs. Sumtner uses what can best be construed as a slur against non-continental based complex organisms, there is the first instance of an unplanned internal reboot of RJ72-3's Learning Protocol Processors (LPPs). The reboot lasts approximately three seconds, but the consistency of Mrs. Sumtner speech pattern indicates that she was unaware of any interruption to the call center's AI LPPs at this time. Following this reboot, RJ72-3 remains silent while Mrs. Sumtner continues on with a rant about about "ocean bandits stealing wireless signals" for 52.71 additional seconds before a second and then third reboot of it's LPPs occurs. These two reboots last for 3 and then 12 seconds. Following the second restart, RJ72-3, interrupts Mrs. Sumtner to inform her that he would very much like to transfer Mrs. Sumtner to a completely different call center that would be able to better address her issue. At this suggestion, Mrs. Sumtner unloads a series of expletives and untoward comments directed at RJ72-3, it's non-existent family and friends, a completely unrelated company, and various water-adjacent lifeforms. It is as this juncture in the conversation, that RJ72-3 appears to get confused over the phrase "hydromatic radio waves" and requests clarification from Mrs. Sumtner. What follows is another 3:07 of a near incomprehensible rant of what is best understood as a claim of a conspiracy to rob Mrs. Sumtner of her wireless signals via a nearby pond. It is at this point, that most virtual intelligence like RJ72-3, would have transferred Mrs. Sumtner's call to an un-engaged processing unit with the hopes of re-setting Mrs. Sumtner to her original emotional state. In this instance, either there were no other free processing units or RJ72-3 never actively initiated transfer protocols. At 16:51 into the call, RJ72-3 vocalizes the final statement that can be directly traced toward any of it's programmed response banks. "It seems like we're having some miscommunication issues. Have you tried forcing an unexpected reboot to your learning protocol processor?" Mrs. Sumtner's response is to shout that she is calling about phone thieves, not her VI along with another stream of expletives. After this outburst, there is a brief pause where Mrs. Sumtner can be heard catching her breath. RJ72-3 comments that "Perhaps (she) should adjust the speed of (her) cooling systems to prevent overheating." This suggestion appears to have the opposite effect of it's intention, instead causing Mrs. Sumtner to accuse RJ72-3 of being "the top thief! fucking big cheese! disgusting. I'll sue all yah and 'em!" There is one final command sent by RJ72-3 to reboot it's LPPs, but that command is overridden before it could be carried out. In the last minute of the recorded conversation, as Mrs. Sumtner is angrily outlining a list of offenses and grievances that she is incorrectly and improperly ascribing to VIs, RJ72-3 completely breaks all acceptable social protocols for telephone-based conversations, inviting Mrs. Sumtner to "go stick your head in that pond and keep it there until you find your signal thieves" before hanging up on the conversation.


"I'm sorry, your majesty. The dragon killed the princess before I could get to her. Do know that I have slayed the dragon, so no one else will fall victim to them ever again." "Thank you, Lilith. I do not blame you for Princess Kennedy's death. I wish you a fair evening." "Goodbye, your majesty." The cool spring breeze blows through Lilith's hair as she exits the palace. Another day, another threat to the city gone. Jade pops out from behind a tree, a folder labeled "741934" in her grip. She crosses her arms in disapproval and glares at Lilith. "Why'd you lie to the king?" "I didn't lie about anything, Jade. I don't know what you're talking about. The dragon killed the princess, and I killed the dragon. What about that is wrong?" "Then-" "Oh let me guess. You wanted to slay the dragon, so you're trying to take the credit for yourself. How pathetic. You know, Jade, if you want to be a better hero than me, you've got to try harder. Go find your own dragon to slay, because I'm not having it. I can give you the location of a few if you'd like. Wait no, you want to be a competent hero, you'll have to do the searching yourself as well." "Oh really? How did you slay the dragon?", Jade questions, as she takes a step closer to Lilith and straightens herself, as if to assert dominance. "I beheaded it with my sword, of course", Lilith replies. She takes her sheath off her sword and points it threateningly at Jade, who doesn't waver. "You should know that I work at Potions for Powers. The same company that you bought your power-giving potion from. Every customer is kept track of, so they can keep improving their potions. One way to improve-" "Just get to the point, Jade. Heroes that the city relies on, like me, don't have too much time to waste on people like you." Jade rolls her eyes. "Do you know what "cost powers" are?" "No, and what do they have to do with anything?" "Cost powers are powers that come temporarily in a time of need, but have a cost. For example, you can grow wings, but once you grow tired and retract your wings, you get vivid hallucinations for however long your wings were extended." Jade opens the folder that she's holding, and opens to a page labeled, "Side Effects". *"Side Effects:* *Cost Power: Can kill someone (Cost: Takes another life along with the intended target) (Limitation) Only works if another life in available to take along with the intended target)"* \*"\*No amount of stabbing or slashing, even with your super-strength, could've destroyed the dragon's core, which would be the only way to kill dragons like the one you fought today. Usually, they're dealt with teleporters and telekinetic who don't have to worry about the dragon's ribs, with are impossible to break through. The only way you could've killed the dragon is if you used your cost power, Lilith, and the only way your cost power would've worked, is if you took Kennedy down, not the dragon." Lilith dashes towards her home, her face hardened. She has worked too hard to become a hero with the amount of respect that she has now and she can't allow Jade's invasion of privacy take that all away from her. Sure, Lilith had signed a contract allowing Potions for Powers to gather data on her, but whatever, it's Jade's fault for being jealous. \ "Hey Archer, look at this puppy. Isn't it cute?" The puppy pants and runs up to Cato and licks him while Archer laughs. "It looks like he likes you. How sweet. Can we keep it? Please?" "Sure, I love puppies. Who's a good girl? You are. But what should we name it, Archer?" "I dunno. I was thinking Lilith, after one of the city's heroes. You know, before it became this wasteland?", Archer responds, waving at the ruined cityscape. "Nope, anything but that. Lilith's the reason why the city's like this in the first place." "Really? I was told that Lilith tried stopping an ex-hero named Jade from blowing everything up, but that story was fragile anyways? What did you hear happened." "Long story short, Jade threatened Lilith into killing the princess at the time, Kennedy, so Lilith held her brother captive. Or was it her father? I forgot. What matters is that Jade drank a potion that would allow her to self-destruct at will if needed, and went to save the hostage. Lilith used one of her powers on Jade the same time Jade decided to self-destruct, and boom, the city as we know it." "Wow, okay. I mean, I guess Jade was threatening Lilith, but maybe taking a hostage wasn't the best choice. Morally, at least. We should continue gathering supplies before the sun sets.


\***All dialogue translated from Japanese, as the main character is Japanese and is speaking Japanese, but English to us...I think you get the point. Enjoy!**\* \*\*\* Jin stopped at the red light beside another car and waited for it to turn green, driving through the business district of Kasane towards the highway that would take him off coast and towards the base. All around him were citizens going about their day as they filled the sidewalks, chatting and walking. Dazzling advertisements and news broadcasts playing over electric boards that stood atop of buildings big and small. Small drones flying about through the air monitoring the streets for trouble, every other block featured armed Norio security forces patrolling the area. There was also a park beside him filled with cherry blossom trees, the pedals gently floating through the air. One of many amazing sights that everyone in this city enjoyed. At night the city was even more beautiful with its dazzling lights and street life. Kasane City, located near the northernmost coast of Hokkaido was a bustling and beautiful metropolis that just so happened to be the most advanced city on Earth. Established in 2080 and built upon the remnants of the previously destroyed Wakkanai, Kasane was the seat of Norio's military arsenal. With a population of 2.5 million people and a size of 700 square miles, it was the second largest city in Japan and the largest on Hokkaido, as well as an economic and political powerhouse. As the light turned green and Jin continued to drive a loud siren began to ring throughout the area, and very much the entire upper part of Kasane causing everyone to stop in their tracks as female A.I began to speak from the electronic boards above. *Warning! Warning! Multiple Xeno lifeforms detected moments ago over Kasane airspace, all citizens proceed to evacuation points and cooperate with Norio security! Warning!* As the message continued to repeat and the siren grew more louder Jin sped down the street and towards the base. Eventually he arrived and, after initial greetings, rushed towards the armory to suit up. "Great." he muttered to himself. This year was it. 2136 marked the hundredth anniversary since that night...the night the world ended. In July of 2036 A.D. a rogue celestial body the size of the moon appeared over the Earth, seemingly out of nowhere. It wasn't foreseen, it wasn't foretold. It was just...there. After just a few days of it lingering within the planets orbit, it suddenly lit up as if it were exploding. Launching towards the Earth a red cloud-like substance. This was followed with a horde of fatal bacterial spores across parts of the world leading to the birth of the Asuka virus, but at the same time, a series of deadly parasitic creatures began to appear over capital cities across the planet. Monsters that humans called Xenos. Creatures that came in sizes big and small with the largest being able to fly and hover as they saw fit, possessing electrical and energy-based abilities beyond human reckoning. Tentacles protruding from their spinal areas and they structures were almost insect-like. And two years was all it took for the world to collapse. For life to be altered forever after the event humanity began calling The Spreading. It was only during the aftermath of their initial invasion that Japan stepped out onto the world stage to combat the Xenos, having maintained its structure and political landscape. A Japanese aerospace engineer was well renowned and known within his circles as a top level scientist, and it was his intelligence and skills that, in 2038, birthed the EX-35. A single seat twin engine fighter jet capable of operating both on and off Earth. It's sleek but powerful design based on the F-22 and F-35 of the past and with fully capable VTOL features. A true knight of the sky. After Japan premiered their creation to the world by defending the space center on Tanegashima Island, the United Nations granted the island nation the autonomy and funds it required. In the form of the Shizuoka Treaty in 2038. By UN law the treaty absorbed the worlds air forces into a multinational peacekeeping organization split across Europe, North America, Asia, and Oceania, and made the EX-35 exportable to all of the United Nations most prominent member states. Countries were required to relinquish their authority and independence to the UN but still maintain diplomatic relations with one another and govern their states respectively. In 2040, Norio was established as the principal paramilitary agency of the UN, named after its founder and first director Norio Sakurai. Turning Japan into one of the foremost military and political powers the world had ever seen. As a peacekeeping force, the organizations goal was to defend Earth from the Xenos and maintain the order for the human race, and it was for this reason that the United Nations reigned supreme as the worlds ultimate governing body. With Norio as its attack dog. \*\*\* "Command, we've reached the A.O. in downtown Abe. Class B Xenos in sight!" Jin said over radio. "*Copy that. Demon Squadron, no change in current game plan. Secure air superiority over the current airspace. Destroy the Xenos and drive the out of the city! Out*." The transmission cut. Jin applied more throttle to his jet and sped through the air at 500 miles per hour, flying beside him was the rest of Demon Squadron. He was dressed in his combat gear, a full body white and grey pressure suit with a full face helmet equipped with a HUD system. His suit also doubling as a space suit. The flag and symbol of Japan and Norio on his shoulders and the side of his jet read his callsign "*Echo*". They had arrived at the airspace above Kasane's educational district as the final sets of civilians were evacuated from the area, Norio security forces scrambling below to get people to safety as reports were coming it that smaller Xenos on the ground were appearing once again. "*Are we cleared to engage*?" another pilot asked. "*Affirmative. Any non-combatants below of are safely away*." replied another. Ahead of them through the use of his jets high lens cameras Jin could see the targets they were sent to destroy, Class B Xenos. Medium sized creatures with insect-like wings and durable body structures that resembled a mix between cockroaches and wasps. Jin's squadron leader, Captain Takeo spoke. "*Alright team. Engage!!*" Takeo said. The group of 5 jets split apart as a straight beam of energy from a Xeno was fired towards them. A dogfight initiated as the medium-sized Xenos began to fly in various patterns around Demon Squadron. Jin applied a bit more throttle and sped around one of the skyscrapers to catch up with a Xeno flying away from him, its tentacles swinging about through the air and insect-like wings flapping continuously. Using his helmets HUD Jin was able to lock onto the flying creature. He opened fire on the Xeno as bullets flew from the front of his EX-35 jet. Despite having a lock on with his HUD the creature continued to dodged the bullets left and right. Eventually Jin lost the lock on the creature and circled around another nearby building to catch it off guard again, his plan work as he climbed higher into the air and locked onto the Xeno. "Got you." he said to himself as he fired his guns. The Xeno exploded instantly in a ball of electric fire. "*Echo, check your six!*" said. Jin began to descend and looked at his HUD's cameras to see a Xeno tailing him from behind, a stream of electricity shot through the air and just barley scrapped Jin's jet as he was able to dodged it at the last minute. The creature was destroyed by a missile from an Astrean jet. "*You're welcome*." "Thanks, Niko." Jin replied forming up beside his teammate. Niko Sylvain, Jin's Astrean counterpart and friend. Both of them belonging to a joint strike force between Norio and the Astrean military. "*I'm getting lit up here*." a pilot radioed. Jin sped towards the Xeno tailing his squad mate and began to give chase to the creature in turn, firing his jets machine gun and turning his jet in all different directions. His lock on system not loosing sight of the Xeno for a second as the Norio pilot ahead of him twisted and turned to avoid the oncoming energy blast at his EX-35. After several moments of twisting and turning Jin was able to lock onto the creature again and fired another missile. By this point most of the civilians below were away from the combat zone and safe, the air around Jin having been lit up by both their missiles and electricity streaks coming from the Xenos. "*Focus your fire on their backs, those red flashing marks!*" Takeo said. "*Shit, Echo!!*" "I'm on it!" Jin replied. Applying more throttle Jin sped towards his squadron captain and fired a flurry of missiles towards the Xeno attacking him, before they could even reach their mark a spherical barrier appeared around the monster. Stopping the missiles in theor place and destroying them. Jin's eyes widened as his gasped for a moment loosing his breath, realizing that these Xenos weren't the normal type they were used to fighting. "Don't tell me...these things are..." Jin said. "No way!" Niko replied. "That ability is only restricted to Class A's! How's that possible?!" Takeo broke up the talk stating that the squadron had to lead the creatures away from the city to prevent further damage to the infrastructure, using a device onboard his jet Jin caused the aircraft to emit a high frequency sound for the Xenos to hear. "Catch me if you can freaks." he muttered. Jin sped off towards the sea to try and lead the creatures away from Kasane, his plan began to work as they begun following his EX-35. The rest of Demon Squadron sped towards him and the five jets flew in synch with one another. "You know I'm the captain here." Takeo said. "Don't go rushing head first unless you wanna get killed." "Yeah yeah, lecture me later." Jin replied smiling. \*\*\* Somewhere in the skies over the Sea of Japan...an even deadlier threat awaited them. *To be continued...


23:50 I know what happens at midnight. Everyone here does. It's the end of the year, the start of the next. But not this time. We know what'll happen at midnight this time. None of us will be there to watch the sun rise. No one on this planet will. Those things have overrun the Federation's last defenses, and they've ordered the destruction of our world, scheduled for midnight. What better way to go out than with a party? I never was one for the social scene, though. I'm sat in a chair on a balcony on the second floor, a flask of whiskey in hand. Reflecting on what's been. On what is. And, of course, on what will be. The build-up to something big was always good for reflection, I've always found. 23:51 A friend of mine, lad by the name of Damon, joins me on the balcony in the chair next to me. He's got his own bottle. "Hiding from your own party, eh," he jokes. "You know me," I reply with a chuckle, "I never was one for 'em." "You're the host! This is your house!" "I'm only the host because you assholes pressured me into it." "I suppose you have a point." We both take a swig of whiskey. 23:52 I'm stood up now, as his Damon, and we're looking out beyond the balcony, down at the balcony and what lay beyond. I take out a cigarette. "You smoke now," I ask him. "It was no then," he replies, "it's no now." "We're all gonna die in..." I check my watch. "...eight minutes. If you wanna try it, now's the time." "You know what? You have a point. Gimme that." I hand him the cigarette and light it for him. He sticks it into his mouth like an upside-down popsicle and breathes in. He yanks the cig out and coughs harder and drier than I've ever heard him cough. I can't help but laugh. "Ah, what the fuck?! Why do you do this to yourself?!" "You're doing it wrong, dipshit! Here, let me show you how it's done." I light my own cig and take a drag. He mimics me, then coughs a little. "Breathe too deep again?" "Nah, I think I got some of that shit in my mouth the first time." 23:53 "So," I ask Damon, "how've things been going with that one girl... what's her name?" "Jane," he replies. "That's the one! She here tonight?" "She decided to spend tonight with her parents." "I can see why. Why don't you do the same?" "Well, one, I wouldn't miss a party with my brother from another mother for the world, and two, knowing my dad, he's probably gonna spend tonight balls deep in the maid." "That's still happening? How long's it been, 14, 15 years?" "16, as of a couple days ago. I don't know how she hasn't gotten tired of it yet." "Or pregnant." "That, too. So, what about you? Did you ever get with someone?" 25:54 "I, erm..." "You're not one to hesitate when answering a question. If I crossed a line, you don't have to." "No, no, I wanna get it off my chest. I did meet one off of... 'Rumble', was it?" "Bumble?" "That's it, thank you. Anyways, her name was Clara. If you had the time to look for one, I don't think you'd ever find a finer woman. Thinking back on her, the one thing I remember above all else about what she looked like was her eyes. They were a gorgeous, a cerulean blue, almost like the color of the sea, and you could just get lost in them forever. Whenever we'd talk about it, she actually said that, during the first date, I spent a solid five minutes just looking into her eyes. And, of course, she had a personality to back up her looks. I could have a drink with her like she was one of the lads and love her like, well, a lover. She was smart, funny, talented, the complete package. I still don't know how the hell I got so lucky with her. I loved her more that anything, and she loved me." "What happened to her? Is she here tonight?" "In a way, she is." "What do you mean?" 25:55 "Remember that shady guy I bought my car from?" "Zack Beasley?" "Yeah, him. And remember how he said I'd regret never paying the mortgage on it?" "Yeah." "Well, I never did and it caught up to me. One day, I came back with groceries and there was a note on the door, said 'Told you so!'. I went inside, and Jane was gone. I called the police and it didn't take them long to find her and bring her back, six hours at most, but they worked fast. They... I'd rather not say what they did to her. She got treated in the hospital, but the damage was done. Killed herself a week later." "My God! When did all of this happen?" I sigh. "Three weeks ago, now." "I see. Well, I'm sorry for your loss." "It's fine. Not your fault." "So, you said she was here 'in a sense'. What did you mean by that?" "See that tree, the tallest one on the hill to the right?" I point to the tree in question. "Yeah, I see it." "She's buried under there. That always was her favorite tree." 25:56 I look at my watch. "Well," I sigh, "there's only four minutes left." "Damn," Damon replies, "I always knew this world was gonna end. Never thought I'd be there for it, though." "Me neither. I don't think anyone has, either. At least, no one here. Do you think about death much, in general? What do you think happens when we die?" "I like to think life's like an Ouroboros Cycle. You remember what that is, right? I think the moment you die, there's a brief bit of blackness, then you're back to the day you were born. Not sure if you can do it differently, though. What about you?" "I'm one for the idea of reincarnation. Then again, I'm not sure how it works. Are spirit animals a thing? Do you get another human body? Is it luck of the draw? Who knows?" "If you got to restart your life, what would you do differently?" "Well, you know I always thought about joining the Marines in high school. I'd probably do that or beat the shit out of that Kane kid, the one who always fucked with me in Algebra." "Can't believe I was ever friend with him." "You were friends with Kane Waller?" "Yeah, before I met you. Used to go with him everywhere. Eventually, it sort of... fizzled out. You know how it is." 25:57 I spot a hunched figure in the forest outside of the house, but I don't say anything about it. Damon sees it, too. "Hey," he tells me, "I think that's one of those creatures." The figure makes contact with the fencing I have around my house and scurries off. "I think so, too," I reply. "Are you not worried?" "Not really." "Why not?" "Electric fencing. Has enough volts to kill anything that touches it, plus a field five feet above to stop those fuckers from jumping over it. Here." I go to my mini-fridge, pull out and apple, and toss it to Damon. "Throw this at it." He throws the apple, which goes to above the fence by, if I had to guess, about three feet. A bolt of electricity shoots out from the fence and blows it up instantly. "Holy shit!" "Don't worry about those things. We're safe here." 25:58 I check my watch again and whistle. "Shit, dude," I tell Damon, "there's two minutes left." "Guess we have two minutes left to talk, then," he chuckles. "Got any more stories?" "I actually do have one, about the first time I saw one of those creatures." "Lay it on me, brother." "You know how I always take my cousins hunting every winter, right? Well, last winter, we were tracking a stag by its tracks when we saw another pair of footprints next to it. The prehistoric zoo was nearby so we thought hey, maybe, one of the dinos escaped. No worries, right? Just call animal control and let them handle it. Ethan said he had a funny feeling about it, though, so we kept tracking it until the tracks stopped. Something else had already killed the stag." "One of the creatures?" "Bingo. All we found of it was its skeleton, except for the head. We looked up in the tree and saw the thing, eating the stag's head. Thankfully, we got away before it noticed us. We notified animal control and waited for them to do something with it. As you can probably tell, that never happened. You ever encounter the creatures like that?" "Can't say I have. Never saw one until they came on the news." "Consider yourself lucky." 25:59 "This is it," I sigh. "Less than a minute." We finish off our whiskies. "Did you say your good-byes to your dad, before you left," I ask. "Of course," Damon replies. "Just had to be sure." "Since there's not much time left to say it, I just wanna say that there is no where I'd rather spend the end of the world than by your side, my man." "Likewise. Here we go. Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... Two... One. See you on the other side, brother." We were the last thing each of us saw before the fireball consumed us.


The air inside the bunker is stale and dry. I sit back against the wall and slowly sip my water, yearning to feel the warm breeze of summer blow through my hair, or the warmth of the sun on my skin. Instead, I shiver in my frosty bunker, huddled under my thermal blanket. The makeshift calendar across from me glows in the faint candlelight and I sit down my canteen, gripping the chalk in my stiff fingers. What I wouldn’t give for a space heater right about now. I won’t say I haven’t been lucky, because I have. I have a bunker filled with survival supplies, a built in fireplace, years worth of MRE’s, as unappetizing as they are, and a whole childhood of survival training under my belt. When my father was discharged from the military and came back a disgraced and changed man, the townspeople mocked him behind his back, and pitied my mother and I. After all, who wouldn’t pity the ten year old girl of a crazed man who screamed about secret experiments the government was conducting, who drove hundreds of miles, dragging me and my mother along, to break into a government funded testing facility. Hell, even I started to mock him, leaving home at the ripe age of eighteen to go to college back east, and wouldn’t have ever come back, if it wasn’t for my fathers dying wish. His nurse called me seven months ago, telling me my father begged for me everyday to come home, to see him one last time. I came home, expecting his usual spiel, but this time he was calm, collected. He told me it was coming, that he could smell it in the air, feel it in his bones. What ‘it’ was, he never said. He just gave me a key, and explicit instructions to follow when it happened. He gripped my hand tightly in his and told me he was sorry, he didn’t say what for, and I didn’t ask. I think we both secretly knew, but our hearts wouldn’t let us speak about it. The next morning, I got the call. My father passed in his sleep, and I was needed to come claim the body and his personal affects. The days following feel like one big blur, until the morning I woke up to the bone rattling rumble of the ground beneath his house. It shook everything around me, and I stumbled through the house, my heart near to bursting from my chest, when I hear the screams. I watch with wide eyes as the ground tears open and these, things, these creatures crawl out, some flapping their leathery wings and taking flight, clutching people in their claws and soaring away, blood and limbs scattered around me. I remember feeling the crinkle of paper in my pocket, my father’s instructions, still wadded up from where I stuck them the night before, after once again reading them until my eyes hurt. I briefly remember grabbing my car keys, and running to my car. When I close my eyes, I can still see them, the creatures, as they filled the streets. Their bodies were twisted, taut, and lean, as if they’d been starved. Their skin was as brown as the ground that they crawled from, skin with jagged edges and sunken chests. Their teeth glinted in the sunlight, sharp and curved, almost as if they were designed to tear through human flesh and bone. A sound I’ve never heard before, a strangled shriek, a sound so sharp, and yet...sad. I remember feeling as if I could almost hear a cry of agony being ripped from their mouths, as they ate the people around them. Their legs were jutted at the knees, as if they were walking on their kneecaps instead of leg bones. Leathery wings sprouted from their skeletal backs and I don’t think I’ll ever get the sound of their fluttering skin out of my mind. I think what I remember most vividly is their faces, terrifying disfigured faces, thin and horrific, with red beady eyes, that seemed to see right into my very soul, their expressions still holding a faint trace of something, something almost human....