I can smell him. His deep breathes and long exhales gently push my hair back on my head. I love him. The way his chest rises and falls. I try and match it so we can be even more in sync. I swear though that he notices what I'm doing and messes with me by breathing faster. I know because that small smirk crosses his face. I would be nothing without him. He makes me who I am. He's made me a better person in all avenues of my life. He saved me…..I drift off into a deep slumber. Our breathing finally in sync. I awake to wind rushing fast into my face. It's not unpleasant just surprising. He's taking me somewhere again. Something must've stirred within the night and woken him, making him uneasy. This happens quite often. He takes me somewhere new every night. I look down at the rushing land below me. Mile after mile are just eaten away. At first this sensation scared me, looking down to see the land I used to dwell on flash by so fast. Now none of that worries me, I know he will protect me. We rarely set down for more than a few hours at a time now days. Every night is shorter than the last, and this night is no exception. I feel the weighYt of my eyelids pushing downwards. I fall into a restless sleep. Something just doesn’t feel right. My dreams damn me. An endless fall. This has never happened before. I wake up to a burning sensation. I look down at my hands, grabbing tightly to his neck. His rough skin is glowing. Slowly spreading across his whole body, bringing an intense heat with it. The pumping of his giant wings are unwavering though, as if nothing were wrong, but something definitely is. I look back as his boney tail slowly starts to smolder and turn to ash. For a second time stood still as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I hug his neck tightly, ignoring the intense pain. I cant lose him, not now, not ever. His head starts turning to ash now. Slowly making its way towards me. I squeeze even tighter as his whole body disintegrates in my hands. There's a delay before I plummet towards earth. Stars whizzing past me, speed ever increasing. Tears occupy my eyes but are quickly taken from me. The dirt that which I was able to escape, I finally am coming back to, and its going to be my end. My grave. Its dark in his room. A moonless night hides everything within its folds. Except that for a dog. He senses something is wrong. He knows that the man under the covers is growing old. Every day he sleeps just a little bit longer, but he usually doesn’t stir quite so much in his slumber. The bed starts to shake. The dog jumps up and starts barking hysterically. The man under the covers wont stop convulsing, he can smell something foul emit from his mouth. As quickly as it started the convulsing stopped, but the dogs bark did not. Turning more and more into a wimper as the days go on. Once a sound can no longer be made he crawls up under his masters arms, joining him in his endless slumber.


In 2037, the people of the Earth knew that the end was near. At least they had a short warning to prepare for the inevitable. A massive, unknown comet was detected at the edge of the solar system on a deadly, unwavering path. In less than three years, it would collide with our moon and completely destroy it. As it made its way toward our symbiotic orbiting partner, scientists admitted that they had no means of stopping it. No man-made object could be constructed to force it to deviate from its trajectory. Even the most powerful missiles or bombs would only splinter away insignificant sized, uncontrolled pieces of shrapnel. Any one of which would rain down on the Earth and do as much damage as the complete astral body would do; once it impacted with the moon. Neither contingency was survivable. For once, all of the experts agreed. The planet would soon cease-to-be. The Earth had always resided at the very nexus of carbon based life. If our planet was any closer to the sun, it would have made biological life impossible. Any further away meant the exact same thing; lifelessness. Once the moon was pulverized, the Earth would become unbalanced and wobble off its invisible gravitational track; falling into an unsurvivable orbit. Earthquakes, tidal waves, and volcanos would blot out most living things immediately. That is, if the drastic shift in global temperature didn't beat the cataclysms to it. All life would perish shortly thereafter in the void of space. With seven months left before impact, a large-scale, evacuation plan was set into motion by scientists and world leaders. The overwhelming majority of people on Earth were going to die. There was no means of saving eight billion people. Every man, woman and child knew the reality. The best and brightest young minds from every culture were selected for 'the forlorn hope'. Their mission was to go forth and establish a permanent settlement on a surrogate world. That host world was decided to be Jupiter. Or more specifically, it was one of its main moons; called 'Europa'. With a thin atmosphere of Oxygen and evidence of liquid water beneath the surface; it was earmarked by experts as the best hope for life to continue on. Massive tidal flexing and gravitational pull from Jupiter was theorized to cause the saline ocean to remain liquified; beneath the frozen crust. This in turn, caused a slightly warmer surface temperature than any of Jupiter's other five large moons. That is not to say that Europa was 'Idyllic' or 'hospitable' by any stretch of the imagination. It was just slightly less deadly than other potential destinations that we could reach. The journey to the middle of the solar system would take more than a dozen years. Humanity's long term survival outlook was admittedly bleak but we were it's last hope. Room on the massive craft was scarce and limited to essential items. It was also necessary for all living things to enter a deep hibernation-like stasis. All living quarters were flooded with a specialized gas to slow down our metabolisms to near death. Being in suspended animation also prevented the consumption and exhaustion of valuable resources. Those were needed for the settlement. The vessel was aptly named: 'The Dandelion'. Much like the tenacious weed, we were floating on thermal winds to spread our seeds in a distant world. The onboard computer was the most advanced technology that had ever been created. It was in full control during the tedious traveling phase. About two months into our forced pilgrimage, the computer alone bore witness to the complete annihilation of Mother Earth. Transmitters and orbiting satellites communicating with 'The Dandelion' documented the final moments of the moon and then, the birthplace of all known life; Terra. After that, there was only the cold, dead silence of space. We were the last remaining vestiges of life in the known universe. Alone. Once we reached our new home, the plan was to send automated tunneling machines into the ice to drill ourselves a path to the liquified sea, underneath. 'The Dandelion' was either going to serve as our undersea living quarters; or it would become our failed tomb. Eventually we were able to establish a living colony in the frigid, alien world. We set up an algae farm and converted the surrounding seawater into breathable oxygen and drinking water. The artificial heat and UV lights in our greenhouse provided necessary photosynthesis elements to sustain our working garden. Our surviving livestock fed on the greenery that we produced; and so our undersea farm was a working food chain. The animal waste materials were recycled into fertilizer for future crops. Life begins and ends at the microbial level. Once settled, we also used the digging machines to bore tunnels into the ocean floor. After pumping out the seawater, we established farming caverns and living quarters. Our extensive seed library was put to better use growing vegetables in the fertilized Europaen soil. It allowed for the possibility of longer-term survival for the colony, as a whole. Over time we adapted our nuclear reactors to produce artificial lighting and heat in the caverns. It has been a monumental struggle to tame the savage elements but we have overcome these tremendous odds. I marvel at how many of our little ones have no experience with any other way of life. Other that in video or photos, they will sadly never known the rich blue planet of their origin. As the chosen leader of this colony, I was tasked with tremendous burden and responsibility of keeping humanity alive for the past forty-five years. It hasn't been easy and we have lost some important battles. Through it all however, the human race continues to fight back and thrive. We rise up against the deadly challenges that would seek to defeat us. We utilize our extensive database of the world's collective knowledge, to educate ourselves and our children. As the fortunate, chosen few; we govern ourselves with a sense of heightened fairness and peaceful resolve. It is my hope that future generations will continue to do so. We are a society of survivors; and Europa is our home.


(I'm writing a science fiction book, and was thinking of making this the first chapter. Let me know what you think. Thanks) A man sat in an empty storefront. There were large windows along the front of the store which allowed a clear view inside. The store appeared to be vacant except for the man, who was sitting in the middle of the hardwood floor. Once in a while someone would walk in asking for directions. The man, of course, knew that there are no accidents. He would persuade anyone who entered to either stay and speak with him or promise to return. A young man walked beside the pathway in front of the store. He reappeared moments later, walking the other direction. Again, a few moments later he passed by. This time he noticed the man sitting inside the storefront. The young man pulled on the door and leaned his head inside. “Excuse me, can you give me directions to Mesay Insurance?” “Yes, yes, of course. It’s around the corner. Just walk around and keep going. It’s at the end.” “Thanks. I’ve been looking for like twenty minutes now.” The young man started to leave, but turned back to ask, “What is this place?” “What do you think it is?” The young man opened the door further, and took a step inside. “Well, there’s nothing here. Are you still getting things setup?” “Yes.” “What type of business is this going to be?” “What do you think?” “Well, again, I don’t know. There aint nothing in here,” the young man said as he pushed on the door, taking a step back. “What would you put here if you had the chance?” The young man took a step forward. “Hmm, I always wanted to run a restaurant. I think I would do that. I would be an involved owner. I’d treat the staff with dignity, you know. I wouldn’t give them absurd and unnecessary quotas to fill. But I wouldn’t let them push me around either. It would be a place where people would want to work.” “What kind of food?” “See, I’ve thought about this before, you know, a guy can dream. I’d ask the customers about their favorite foods and their, their favorite restaurants. Then, I’d take note of all that information and customize the menu. I’d make it a place that people would actually enjoy. I’d make an effort to have customers feel like I wanted them to be there not just because I wanted there money, but because I wanted them to have a pleasant experience.” “And how would you get people interested in going to your restaurant in the first place?” ‘I’m not sure. I mean, this is a fantasy, and I don’t know that it would work... If I had the money to start a restaurant, I’d have money for other things too, right?” “I suppose.” “Ah man, now you’ve got me talking. Don’t tell anyone this idea. Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter. So, I’d pay twenty or thirty people to sit at the restaurant for a week or a month. I’m not sure, I guess until the locals start coming in. See, I'm thinking, when you drive by and see it packed all the time, you’re going to think there’s some kick ass food inside, right?” “It’s possible.” “Hey, you know, you look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?” The man on the floor did not moving a muscle. The young man waited for a moment, and then said, “So that would be my plan, in a dream world at least. Like, if I won the lottery, I’d do this or that, whatever. Everyone has those fantasies, right?” A smile appeared on the man’s face. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled and stared. He was making eye contact with the lost young man, but it appeared that he was spacing out. “Well, goodbye. Thanks for the directions.” The young man whispered to himself as he opened the door. “That guy’s gotta be crazy. Who does that?” “But you did.” The man on the floor said. The young man turned around, a little confused. “I did what?” “In a sense, you did win the lottery.” “Yeah, how’s that?” “For one, you were lost, but now you know where you’re going. Is that not worth something?” “It is,” the young man said as he pushed the door open further. “And two, well, I think you’ll like two. I have, in the room to the side, over five hundred thousand dollars.” The young man let go of the door and turn back towards the man on the floor. Then he looked to where the man pointed. There was a closed door. “You’ve got over half a mil sitting in that room?” “It is there.” “It sounds like… why did you say that I would like that? It’s not my money.” “But it is, if...” The young man took a step towards the man on the floor. “If? Okay, go on.” “If you listen to my story.” The young man said, “Is that right?” as he walked closer to the man on the floor. “There are conditions.” “Okay, let's hear them.” “One, you shall not leave until the story is complete. Two, you must not look inside the room until the story is complete. Three, you must follow along... until the story is complete. And try not to interrupt. That is not a rule, just common decency. Agreed?” The young man stood there dumbfounded. “I’d clean the floors with my tongue for half a mil. So, yeah, yeah I’ll hear you’re story. My name is Thomas.” “Good. And good to meet you. I am Mallone.


Hi guys! I wrote this as a personal exercise in mood and atmosphere, mostly taking inspiration from Lovecraft (mood, not really in writing style, I think). I also think it sort of holds up as a standalone thing, but please let me know if it doesn't make sense or if anything could be improved as far as style goes. Thanks! …. Hey. Is it weird? You know what I’m talking about. So? Is it weird? To be the only one with a normal mind, a normal brain, on the planet? I know you don’t understand. Please don’t struggle too much. The ropes won’t give, I promise. I need you to be open for this. At least a little bit. Let me ramble on for a while. See if you can catch up. Tell me if I’m confusing. Do you dream of the ocean sometimes? The open water? People with normal brains sometimes do. The others, they think about it a bit more. Not the fish, not the boats, not the sunny days under the sun on the beach. The real open sea. Where you see the ocean touch the sky, and the sky touch the ocean. Each is as big as the other. They are the same grayish blue, both rippling. Almost alive. But not quite. I’ll tell you what a dream like that is like. You are floating in that emptiness, and the air reeks. You aren’t there, because you are dreaming, but you still smell the ashes the are gradually filling the skies with off-white snowflakes. Around you, the surface is not opaque, and you can see the blackness below. The deep colors remind you of something else. You are reminded of a story. You remember this story well, because you see it every night. More than that. Every time your spirit wanders from your active thoughts or actions. Picture a knight. He is a hero, savior of king and country. He has just come back from war and has himself saved the young princess and her steed. He comes back to the castle, but on the throne lies not the kind old king who hired him. In the kingdom now rules the traitor, the jester that saw every going on in the castle and decided to do something with it. He laughs at our hero, who pulls out his sword. He knows he will succeed, because he is a hero. Moreover, he is our hero. He will succeed because we are reading and seeing and dreaming his exploits. But as he steps forward, his might and spirit crushing the fire and flames in the room.. the jester pulls on a rope, comically hanging next to his new throne. The hero, chosen by fate and narrative choice, the protagonist who thought he was the center of everything, who still thinks he is, falls. His gaze only has time to turn towards the ground before he is enveloped in inky blackness. The walls are invisible, and the ground as well. He might as well be dead and dreaming, but he still falls. The only thing he knows still exists is the shaft of light over him. Light that could save him, but chose not to. Light he knows he will not return to. In the dream, that is how you feel when you inevitably look down to the water at your feet. They are waving at the dark below, communicating in an unknown language to unknown beings your every move. The light seems to drain as it goes down under the placid water where you are splashing around. You are hanging over a hole that is incomprehensibly wide and impossibly deep, and you know that the only thing holding you together is the light above, and whatever safety you think it brings you. It does not change anything. You still, always, eventually begin to tire. While your energy falters from swimming and your voice grows ragged from screaming, the void underneath says nothing, of course. It does not care, much like the void above your head. In your dream you know that there is a strange dychotomy at play here. You know that it is odd that humans have seen billions of miles into intersideral space, more than billions, numbers that could break an unbroken mind, when the same human civilization has not explored all of its planet. From space, our ocean is a tiny wet dot, an oddity that will soon be corrected by collision with a rogue star. It is odd that humans have never bothered looking too deep under their feet. Under the lapping waves and dark currents. You also know, in your skin, in your muscles, in your bones, that the gray emptiness under you is somehow much deeper and much more unwelcoming than the one above you. Your skin screams as it feels the invisible rays coming from all around the emptiness, filling you with energy, but also toxins for your body and mind. Literal and metaphorical cancers that eat away at your self, only to find your real center and infect it as well, leaving nothing but an empty shell, walking around like a normal but broken human being with an unbroken mind. Your muscles tell you a different story. One of struggle. Of hard work and dedication, all in the name of achieving goals that they did not choose. They stretch and contract and sweat and drink and grow and shrink. They do their best, because they can only do what they are told. They are not conscious enough to know that they are being controlled. Your bones are the closest to you, so they whisper in your ear. Their murmur speaks of death and chaos. They have heard what the skin is screaming. Its shouts have been heard, and the bones will have to adjust. They will bend and flex as much as they can. They will break if they have to. They have to change, to adapt to the requirements of this new, infinite world, where gigantic beast that defy imagination rule as much as they are ruled by other, greater beasts that they themselves cannot see either. The bones will snap and lock into place, creating new limbs out of old stock. They will have to change if they want to be in the image of these beings. You, at the head of this band of independent beings, know what they do not. They think they should work and change for what lies below them. In your glorious, pointless dream, you know that whatever is under your feet does not know of your presence. You know it is wrong to think of it as many, since while it has many arms, and many legs, and even more bodies, it only has one mind. One consciousness, aware of every ant walking across its body. At that point your dreaming mind does not care anymore. Just as your arms and legs are tired of paddling, your mind is tired, bored and confused by everything it is processing. When it gives up, something else fills in. Something else finds the nerve endings and fills them with thick, gooey electricity. You then know what you would see if you were something else. Let’s say you were something else. Not too different, mentally. A mind that thinks in terms of years, mostly. With limbs that you control yourself. But you are not the same. As you are standing on the Moon, you know that you have no body that is yours, only what you have claimed from others. Cobbled together in order to have a semblance of persona. From Neptune, a silica-breathing semi-mechanical apparatus. From Mercury, the shields that disperse not only the heat but also the other waves you receive and do not want to either absorb or reflect directly. From Pluto, the visual equipment needed to observe goings on on a planet millions of miles away. From even further, more adaptations that are even more useless here and now. Let’s say you are that being. Looking through the universe, mapping everything you can, and noticing something. Noticing that no sapient species ever looks too far in their own back yard. They all lose so much by not communicating with these beings born of so much more potential. You then notice that it isn’t that these sapient species couldn’t find these other beings. It’s that the beings would have to respond to the pokings and proddings. And they never will, because this does not interest them. None of these lives matter, because in an instant they can be gone. You then notice the same things up above you. Whole sectors that have never been touched, even by beings that have achieved mobility and gone through the area. You see that there are intelligences beyond the understanding of sapient species, and there are also some above theirs. And more above the other. Each one, pointing and pulling towards the bigger fish, but never attaining it. You, standing on our moon, see our world. You see all of Southeast Asia, and you see El Salvador. You can hear the cries of children, and the other songs of war. It’s like a mighty melody in your eyes, performed for a blind and deaf audience. You see and understand this through the eyes and minds of every individual on that planet, filling their nerves with your consciousness every time they abandon their sensory organs. Every time they dream of the open sea. You see the remnants of older civilizations, both on land and in the seas. There are traces of gigantic buildings and structures, sometimes spanning millions of miles. Billions. You notice that there are edges that do not line up. Straight lines that end up circling on themselves. Buildings that curve around not the dip of the earth but that of the stars. You have noticed the same buildings, the same curved straight lines, pointing to structures that cannot hold in only three dimensions, in the space between quarks, and also in the space inside of the quarks themselves. Between elementary particles. Between galaxies, between stars. You have seen this web-like pattern everywhere you managed to dig long enough. You, still dreaming, understand all of this. You are sleeping, unconscious, but you are also sinking slowly in an empty ocean, just as much as you are looking intently through the cosmos, and you understand all of this. This is not an easy understanding. With it comes the pain of knowing that you are painfully, horrifically right. The great and obviously superior beings do not care, whether they are above or below you. More than that, they don’t even know that you exist. You are not the bugs in the threads under their boots. You are the microbes in the dirt stuck between the folded-up wings of these bugs. Then you wake up. That’s what the dream is like. At first, I thought I was the only one, then I met others. More and more. A lady in the subway at first. A man in the bus. Another at the shelter. They didn’t say anything, but their eyes betrayed their thoughts. Their sad, desperate eyes showing sad, desperate thoughts. They didn’t all understand the meaning of the dream, but they would. Soon. I know it’s going to be soon. The walls of the city told me. Have you ever seen the edge of the city? Outside? I haven’t either. The walls and the buildings told me their story once. They are millions of miles wide, and millions of miles deep, and millions of miles thick. Layers upon layers of crumbling concrete and dusty stone, sandwiched between meat and pleasure and thought. I know it doesn’t make sense. Have you noticed how every block of the city is almost the same? Intersection after intersection, tunnels leaking cars into highways and boulevards. Everywhere, you can see the church steeples, the traffic lights, and the apartment buildings. People, packed like animals to the slaughter, riding on buses, in cars, in subway trains, all sweating and swearing in unison against their fellow passengers. Billions of people, going to school, going to work, going to die, slowly but surely. Billions of dirty, hairy apes swinging their clubs around. Not noticing that, while there are billions of beings around them, none is actually conscious of the world in front of them. They aren’t thinking about their pointless lives, about their pointless loves. They are not thinking. They are dreaming. They are dreaming the sea of empty blackness, the sky filled with dying stars impossibly far away. They all know that something is wrong. Something needs to be excised from the human body. A slowly rotting lump of brain cells and body fat that thinks it is better than the others. A lump that thinks it thinks for itself. I will fix this problem. When I woke up this morning the sun told me. The sun spoke of fear. Of blackness, of nothingness. Of dreaming. Of the open sea, and all it brings. How does it feel to know that you’re the only one that does not have this dream? It must feel odd, knowing that your can’t get it, and never will. How does it feel to be the only one out of billions, who still doesn’t see the pointlessness of the land around, if we aren’t wanted above or below? Heaven and hell have rejected us, it seems. They forgot us in the shed and now the stench is unbearable. How does it feel? I couldn’t put words on it either, if I were you. I would probably just keep listening. We have been forgotten, and we can only look to each other to remember. Out of all of us, you’re the only one that cannot get it. You never will. Because you can’t understand the pain and rejection every other sapient human being feels when looking either above or below. I said I wanted you to be open for this. I wanted you to understand, but now I see you don’t. Obviously. My word bounce off you like pebbles against the stone walls of Babylon. The only thing we can do to make every person on earth happier, the only act with the most net happiness gain, would be to get rid of the incoherence. Once you are removed from the equation, we will be have developed our one consciousness. We will merge with the faraway observers on the moon and beyond. Humans will be on par with the others. Capital O. The Others, the great beings around and above and within. Our combined mind will span an entire planet, and we will then be perfectly homogeneous. We will all know our place and respect it. We will all be better in the knowledge that we are all the same, because you will be gone. You, the odd one out. The strange one. I will make all of us feel better, and you will thank us then. Your song ends now, but ours is only beginning. Please don’t struggle. Go on home, your mother’s calling you.


(WP) The Golden Years She was awoken by the phone ringing shrilly. Normally, she and Henry were in bed by 9:00 PM, at the latest. But the night before had been long and strenuous. She wondered if they were getting too old for this gig. She refused to get a cell phone; she nor her husband, Henry, could figure out how the darn things worked. No, they were perfectly fine with a landline, thank you very much. Eleanor was greeted by a mad cacophony of voices, and she found herself smiling. “Happy 75th birthday, Mom!” Her daughter, Tessa, chirped into the phone. She could hear her grandchildren in the background, squabbling. “We have a surprise for you and Daddy later. Is it okay if we bring the kids?” “Of course, you can bring them!” Eleanor replied, laughing. “You know your father and I, the more the merrier.” Henry was already out of bed, and Eleanor finished up the conversation with her daughter. “Timothy and his kids are coming also. We’ll see you later, Mom! We love you!” Eleanor put the phone back into its cradle, putting her feet in a pair of baby blue slippers. “Henry! The children are coming over later to see us! What are you up to?” She found her husband in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. There was a bowl of oatmeal already sitting on the table, studded with raisins and bananas. Sitting beside it on a saucer was a cupcake, frosted with the number 75 in the icing. “I was making breakfast for my favorite person,” Henry told her, smiling so widely his dark eyes crinkled up at the corners. “Everyone deserves to be made breakfast on their birthday. Especially their 75th!” Eleanor found herself blushing. Really, she was too old for all of this fuss. But she couldn’t deny she was secretly pleased. She sat down and ate the cupcake first, relishing the sweetness. Normally, she ate healthy, all the time, but she figured that since it was her birthday, she would make an exception. “I asked for the day off,” Henry told her, sitting across from her and eating his cereal. “I don’t know if we’ll actually get it, but it was worth a shot.” He shrugged. At a year younger than Eleanor, he was still spry and fit. After all, their job demanded it. And family or not, there were very few breaks. They both enjoyed their jobs, especially in their prime, but she found herself wondering, once again, if they should’ve hung up their capes a few years ago. What about their retirement? “Thank you, Henry,” Eleanor said, and he beamed in reply. “I love you, Ellie.” \*\* Soon, the house was abuzz with the sounds of shrieking children, crying, and laughter. Eleanor didn’t mind. With her and Henry, it was too quiet, even for her. Tessa and Timothy were in the kitchen, putting several wrapped gifts on the table. Tessa was sipping a cup of tea, and Tim was nursing a beer. They were talking, while their spouses focused on wrangling the children. Everyone insisted that Eleanor not lift a finger; her children had even brought her lunch from her favorite café. She sat at the table with her food, eating contentedly, lulled by the controlled chaos around her. Then the phone rang, and Henry answered it. Immediately, Eleanor could tell it wasn’t good news. “Yes. Yes, sir. Okay, sir, we’ll be right there.” He hung up, and looked at Eleanor. “We’ve got a problem at work.” She had a feeling he’d been about to say that. But saving the world never stopped, not even for an old woman’s birthday.


Writing this for school and also a competition. Inspired by the Cyndago video "The Afterlife" Please give me any feedback. (excuse typos)  “This day will be remembered for the rest of your lives and your great-grandchildren’s lives.” Said Dr. Reese into the microphone. And this day would be remembered. ExTec had just finished “the scientific breakthrough of the millennium” in their own words. “For centuries, *millennia* even, mankind had always had one impossible frontier, something that no matter how much we developed, how much we expanded as a species, we would never be able to explore. Until today. Today, New Year’s Eve 2045 is the day that ExTec pioneers a way into the new frontier. Today we see the afterlife.” A loud applaud came from the audience in the laboratory. Scientists, media, friends and family, people who snuck in amongst the others were all there to witness the test. “Our top scientists here at ExTec have found a way to travel to the great beyond, while still being able to travel back.” Continued Reese. He motioned towards a large tank of water on the other side of the stage. Next to the tank was an old man lying down on a bed. Connected to his head were about 20 receptors that ran through some wires and into the tank. “As you can see, this tank is connected to our test subject Mr. Richmond, who we are very grateful has volunteered for this historical discovery.” Continued Reese “Mr. Richmond is very close to the end of his life, and soon he will pass to the other side as nature takes its course. However, as he leaves this world, we will be able to follow him to the next.” Another applause came from the crowd as Reese tried to continue. It took at least a minute until the crowd settled again. “Thank you, thank you.” Continued Reese. “As I was saying, this tank is connected to Mr. Richmond’s nervous system, as his body dies, his nervous system will continue to the next life. The electrons in the water will activate a small device in our traveler’s ear and will transport our traveler to wherever Mr. Richmond’s consciousness goes.” An audience member stood up, “How will you be able to bring this ‘traveler’ back to our world after the experiment?” she asked. “That is a very good question, madam.” Responded Reese. “When our traveler determines that he has seen all he needs to see, he will radio us through the device in his ear and we will simply disconnect the tank from Mr. Richmond. This will cause the device to bring him back into the tank.” “Speaking of our traveler,” Reese continued, “Let's meet him. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. Duncan Davidson, who will be the first man to explore the other side.” This applause was louder than either of the two that came before it. People were standing up and cheering as Mr. Davidson walked on the stage. He was wearing a full body jumpsuit and was holding his helmet under his arm. A mix of emotions on his face. He had been waiting for this day for months, and now it was finally here. “Mr. Davidson has been chosen from a list of almost 1000 scientists working here at ExTec.” Explained Reese. “He has been training for months specifically for today and we are sure that he will succeed in this experiment.” Duncan wasn’t as sure. Yes, he had been training and learning about how the technology works for the last 10 months, but he still had no idea what the afterlife would have waiting for him. He had never really believed in any specific religious version of the afterlife, but he always assumed there was one. After all, we must go somewhere. “Well we have talked long enough, now is the time for action,” Reese turned to Mr. Richmond “Mr. Richmond, we thank you for your willingness to spend your final seconds participating in this journey, and we wish you the best in the afterlife.” Mr. Richmond didn’t say anything; he just gave a faint smile and a nod. Duncan slowly climbed into the tank, the water was warm and gave him an almost ticklish feeling. He lay down on his back as Dr. Reese looked into the tank and yelled: “Mr. Davidson, are you ready?” Duncan gave a thumbs up “Let's do this!” he said back. Reese gave a nod to the nurses. They started to pump the lethal dose of morphine into Mr. Richmond’s arm. As Richmond closed his eyes, the water in the tank began to light up. Duncan felt a sharp pain all around his body like it was being torn apart atom by atom. He closed his eyes and let out a short scream. When he opened them, he was lying on the ground, and all the pain he felt in the tank was gone. He got up and looked around. There was nothing, just a plain of white that never seemed to end. He turned around to see an uncountable amount of people standing in lines. The lines led to a long structure that stretched as far as Duncan could see, side to side. Duncan felt an unknown force bringing him towards one of the lines. As he took his place, he looked around at the other people in the lines next to him. They all were dead-panned, with no emotion on their faces. Like robots. They were all wearing white. Most of them were elderly, but there were many others that were young, some couldn’t have been any older than 5 years old. Duncan looked down and realized that he too was wearing all white clothes. He wondered where the jumpsuit that he had been wearing in the tank had gone. His hand rushed to his ear, and he gave a sigh of relief as he felt the small device inside. He trained with this technology for months. He knew if he lost it, he was stuck. To his right, Duncan saw a familiar face. “Mr. Richmond?” he asked, it came out as a whisper. Mr. Richmond looked back at him, with the same blank expression on all the other faces in the lines, and then slowly looked back to where he had been staring. As Duncan finally got closer to the long structure that all the lines lead into, he realized what it was. It was almost like a toll booth. People would go one by one and speak with the person inside, and then would walk through a gate to the other side. Duncan finally got to the booth and inside was a man also dressed in white, just as everyone else had been. He was typing something into what seemed like a computer. “Name?” The man asked. “Uh, Duncan Davidson.” Replied Duncan nervously. The man didn’t look at him the same way that Mr. Richmond had looked at him, vacant and robotic. He looked at him like he was completely void of any happiness or sadness. Like he had moved past those emotions. “Duncan Davidson, age 36 born in Cleveland, Ohio, United States?” asked the man. “Um, yes that’s me.” Replied Duncan. “Um, excuse me,” Duncan had a list of questions that he had been told to ask anyone he met in the afterlife, but he had totally forgotten it. All he could think to ask was “Where are we?” The man replied, “This is the afterlife.” “So, we’re in heaven?” asked Duncan. “Nope” replied the man. Duncan’s heart began to sink. “So, this is hell?” “Wrong again.” Replied the man again. “I told you, this is the afterlife. There is no heaven and hell here. You went through Heaven, Mr. Davidson when you got married 8 years ago, and you went through Hell when you were going through your divorce 2 years later.” Duncan was taken aback, he had never met this man before, yet he seemed to know everything about him. “So, if there’s no heaven or hell, what’s the afterlife?” Duncan asked. The man motioned around him. “This is.” Duncan looked around except for the long booth, there was absolutely nothing. “So, what do I do now?” he asked. The man handed Duncan a ticket and opened the door to the other side of the toll booth. On the other side Duncan saw more people than he had ever seen before, there must’ve been trillions, slowly walking around with no specific direction. “Wait over there with the others.” Said the man. Duncan looked back at the man, “For how long?” The man shrugged “A few minutes, a couple of millennium, it all feels the same.” Duncan looked at the man one more time and then started walking to the mass of people. His mind started racing. He started to panic. This was what the afterlife was? An eternity of standing around waiting for something to happen? This was what everybody’s life led to, no matter how they used it? Then he began to think more about it. And he started to calm down. There was nothing to worry about here. No problems, no stress, nothing. He felt perfectly at peace. He felt freedom from the weight of his emotions, there was a feeling of perfect balance and calm that washed over his body. “Davidson, are you there?” he heard in his right ear. It was Dr. Reese, “Davidson you’ve been in there for almost an hour. Are you ok?” Davidson took the radio out of his ear spoke into the microphone. “Yes, I’m fine.” He said, before dropping the radio on the ground and crushing it under his shoe. He was fine. Not happy, not sad, just fine. He took a deep breath and then went to take his place amongst the others.


ast Cicones’ moons and the shining radiance of Helios, they turned their bow and set a steady path into the black. Odysseus, captain and chief navigator, stood alone on deck. The crew had long since retired to their cabins, yet Odysseus remained, troubled and pensive. Odysseus was not ignorant to the hardships of space travel. His father Laertes had been a Galactic Argonaut. From Odysseus’ home planet of Ithaca, Laertes participated in expeditions journeying to the far edges of the known universe. Odysseus had heard many times over the stories of his father: the capture of the mighty Calydonian alien, the venture across the Hellespont Nebula and the turmoil of the Stymphalian meteor strikes. All these exploits came to mind now, as Odysseus struggled with his own decision. The ship’s provisions could last only a week longer. Deep space scans gave hints at the possibility of an unexplored planet, possibly a moon, that existed within their fuel limits. If this planet was desolate and barren of life, they would surely perish. It was a risk then, a risk they could not afford. Odysseus dreamed of returning to Ithaca, if only to see the Neritum mountain range and the boundless lush forests that covered it. He would first have to go forward if he was to return. Days passed and the crew were informed. There was no disagreement among them, for there were no other choices than this. After another half’s day of blasting the thrusters, they rounded a small cluster of jagged hurtling asteroids and came into view of the planet. A cheer rose from the men as it appeared on the ship’s visuals. The planet was a green and orange blob, textured with crisscrossing streaks of deep blue. The blue was water, and with water came life. Odysseus immediately ordered preparations to enter the planet’s atmosphere. The thrusters fired slowly at first but the crew hastened Odysseus to accelerate. The ship pressed forward, nose-diving as the wings buckled erratically from the force of entry. Nearer they approached and faster they squeezed against the atmosphere, speeding up in high spirits of good food and drink, until fear of crashing compelled Odysseus to pull up and slow down. The deceleration was too late, and the ship was thrown headfirst into a shallow body of water a few hundred metres short of land. A mechanic had not strapped himself down and now lay in a small crimson puddle across the deck where he had landed. The crew did not have time to mourn the man. The medical staff were dispatched, and Odysseus gathered twelve of the bravest men to come ashore and search for supplies. The planet’s air was tested for toxicity and it was found to be as clean as Ithaca’s. Three sturdy blow-up rafts were taken from storage and placed into the water. Although shallow and up to knee-height where the ship was grounded, the body of water grew deep and opaque in its centre and the twelve men did not wish to swim where no man had swum before. Odysseus beckoned into the middle raft and urged his men aboard. As they paddled through the water, Odysseus observed the surroundings. Thickets and undergrowth wrapped the shoreline and a row of tall trees blocked visibility. Looking above the wall of arrowhead treetops, Odysseus was able to make out an outcrop of steep and craggy cliffs that lay just beyond the forestry. Upon tying the rafts to the shore and walking through the woodlands, the crew’s botanist searched and found no evidence of cultivation, with neither planting nor plowing but wild and unknown variances of wheat, barley and grape vines growing near the trees. It was a short while later that the thirteen men came across a three-legged beast, with two short and sharp horns, like a goat, and a furry exterior that coated his back and hindlegs. More of the beasts were discovered and the crew leapt at the opportunity. Odysseus cautioned the men from using fire power, as they did not wish to scare off the beasts nor bring unwanted attention to themselves. Short blades and rapiers were used, and the men dragged the carcasses of the small goat-like creatures to the shore. Some of the men were sent back on the rafts to fetch the rest of the crew, and Odysseus bade the men bring the wine they had bought from the interplanetary merchant Maron, son of Euathanes, which was to be used on a special occasion. Once the crew had assembled, a pyre was made from nearby firewood and the beasts were set alight. Each man gave a small portion of his meal in sacrifice to Zeus, the mightiest of the gods, and a portion of their wine to Dionysus, for his love of wine and merrymaking. Having partook in food and drink, while also replenishing the ship’s water holds from a nearby spring, Odysseus led his men back to the ship for the night. A knock on his cabin door from one of the engineers woke him. The engine was damaged, and the engineers would need time fixing it – at the least, they had said, a few days. This did not altogether displease Odysseus, as he wished to explore the landing site. The twelve most courageous men again volunteered and for as long as the light lasted, they explored the woodlands. Three days passed and no new discoveries were unearthed. More goat-like creatures were found, who were duly put-down and brought back to the ship, and the botanists began to map out the landscape. They located the lake’s position to be in fact at the base of a large valley with the forestry masking the sloping mountains around them. At the bottom of these mountains, from what they could see through basic scanning, there appeared to be caves entrances. Odysseus, hearing no new progress on the engines, planned an expedition to the caves. All but the thirteen men were to be left at the ship and an assortment of rations were divvied between them. Odysseus decided to bring along a receptacle of wine, seeing as he did not want the crew to drink the rest without him. They left at morning and arrived at the entrance of the cave nearing nightfall. Camp was set just outside, and the men prepared their libations to the gods before supper. As the morning light seeped in through the treetops Odysseus noticed the thirteen companions had dropped to eleven. Two of the men were missing. The cave took in no light from the outside world, as it was covered by the mountain’s overhang, and so it resembled a screen of black tar. Odysseus reassured the men by explaining that the two missing companions must have left to explore the cave early. They entered the cave and followed it downwards as the walls grew further apart and a large cavernous ceiling extended above them. Small flashlights were used to light the way and Odysseus now cursed his decision to leave the crew’s firepower back at the ship. They still possessed their rapiers for the goats and each companion now clutched his in their right hand. A soft scuttling sound, of dozens of tiny feet echoing on the cavern’s floor, was the first they heard of the creature. It was only moments later, after hearing this sound, that the companions discovered two white cocoons plastered to the rocky floor. The crew’s cook, one of the bravest, led another man over to the cocoons. They began to unravel the outer layers of the cocoon, revealing the pale cadavers of their former companions. It was in their moment of realisation that the creature, in pitiless spirit, pounced upon them. Dropping from the ceiling, the creature’s long talon-tipped legs darted for the men. It clasped each man and swiftly threw them back and forth between the cavern’s walls. Frozen from fear, Odysseus and the other eight companions could only watch helplessly as the creature beat the men and then wrapped the two warm bodies into cocoons. The creature resembled that of a gigantic arachnid in appearance, with sharp long legs and prickly skin, and its only distinguishable quality being its large singular eye. It moved meticulously between the four cocoons, tapping and feeling for movement, and after a short while, taking no stock of Odysseus or the others, it bit down into the two original companions and supped on their flesh. After taking its fill from the men, and leaving the two fresh cocoons for later, the creature’s pulsating eye wandered to the group. With the speed of Hermes, it jumped and clung to the cavern’s ceiling. Odysseus reached for his rapier, but the creature was uninterested. It crawled along the ceiling past the group of terrified companions and headed for the entrance. Odysseus deliberated on whether to chase the creature. He chose, rather, to run to the cocoons. Lifting his blade, he cut open the silk and checked the two men’s pulses. They were both freshly dead. Thinking fast, Odysseus unhooked the container of wine attached to his belt and poured its contents over the two cocoons. Having completed this task, he got up and resumed a tight circle with his companions. The creature scurried back along the ceiling, returning after a few minutes. The men waved their rapiers up at the creature, but it crawled past unconcerned. The group, slowly and timidly, edged further away from the creature as it passed. When they could no longer see the creature hanging from the ceiling above the cocoons, the men broke into a sprint towards the cave’s entrance. Reaching the top of the cave, they were met with a ghastly sight. A great white web had been thread across the exit. One of the younger men of the group lunged at the web and began hacking at the bonds furiously. His strikes were futile as not even the smallest cut or incision from his rapier appeared on the web. Odysseus halted the man and told the group of the wine and his plan. Odysseus made the men cast lots as to who would accompany him back down into the pit. The lots fell upon the four very men Odysseus would have chosen, and with himself as the fifth, they crept their way down. They found the creature slumped over the two cocoons asleep, its long talon-tipped legs holding the bodies close. One of the cocoons had been half-eaten, and Odysseus knew the wine had put him to sleep. Quick to observations, Odysseus realised the torso and head of the creature were protected by a thick body plating. Only the middle of the legs, from what he could see, were unprotected. Without disturbing its slumber, Odysseus urged the men forward lest they feel fear and cower before the creature. He directed two men to slowly, ever so softly, lift one of the creature’s many legs outright. He then tapped two of the other men on the shoulder to lift their rapiers as he was. In hushed whispers they counted down, and with heaven filling their hearts with courage, three great whistling swipes struck the leg. The creature immediately woke and recoiled from the pain. The two men holding the leg wrenched it from the slither of flesh that kept the leg intact after the three cuts inflicted by the rapiers. The creature drew itself to its full height and screeched a sharp agonising scream. The companion pulling the leg was immediately dashed against the wall by the creature. The other man with him managed to reclaim the leg from the ground and, in his last effort before being dashed himself, he threw the leg to Odysseus. Odysseus clasped the leg against his chest, heaving as he ran, and the three remaining men scampered up the cave. Barging his way through the rest of the group waiting in agitation, he held the sharp talon-tipped end of the creature’s leg and tore a hole through the web. The men burst from the cave and stumbled over each other to the tree line. The creature did not leave the entrance of the cave. Looking back as he ran, Odysseus watched the creature sit down on its haunches and begin to caress its broken leg. Believing he was safe out of arrogance, and full of hatred for his companions’ deaths, Odysseus jeered and spat at the creature. The men begged him to run. Seeing no reaction, Odysseus ignored the men and lifted the broken leg and threw it at the creature. The creature looked up and hissed, spitting an acidic bubbling projectile that barely missed them. Odysseus did not need more prompting; he swiftly turned and fled with the men. Crossing the lake and re-joining the crew, Odysseus was informed of the repairs and immediately took off. And as a more ancient Odysseus once spoke, “Then they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars; so we sailed on with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have escaped death though we had lost our comrades.


The bus door slammed closed and the hiss of hydraulics signaled the raising of the hydraulic step assistance. Hank had been driving public buses for forty three years as of yesterday and those sounds had become the music of his life. The door opening, the door closing, hydraulics hissing, the human-sounding voice announcing the route number and next stop, and repeat. Pulling away from the stop, he waved a half-hearted thanks despite the frustrated gesture and clipped honk from the driver he had cut off. They would get over it. Sometimes the music was joined by the sound of a car horn and the occasional shout but those were more like dramatic interludes to the longer, less exciting overture.  Hank used to worry about the feelings of the other drivers on the road but years of driving and waving had calloused his sentiment. Now he waved to drivers partly out of gratitude for dealing with his dominance of the road and partly out of habit. No, that was not right. He waved mostly out of habit. His wave turned into a scratching of his beard before the hand returned to the steering wheel. Hank used to shave out of habit too but that had stopped years ago. He wasn’t exactly sure when but one morning he reached for his razor and hesitated. From that point forward, he paid his barber to trim his beard once or twice a month.  The door opened, two women got off, a man stepped on, the door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Driving had become second nature to him and the bus he drove was as much a part of his body as his left kidney. At least, that’s what he told the other regulars at The Grey Fox, a tavern half a block from his apartment. It was ironic because Hank never owned a car. He applied for the commercial driver’s license and the bus driver job after high school because he had seen a flyer somewhere. It seemed interesting enough to occupy his free time until he figured something else out and it paid better than some of the jobs his friends worked. He always took public transportation or walked everywhere after he accepted the job. It just did not feel right to avoid the system that put food on his table. Plus, cars are expensive.  The door opened, a handful of people got off. It was cold so one woman stopped at the door to put on her hat. Another handful of people stepped on. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  One of the newcomers requested a transfer pass. He used to love transfer passes because he would chat with the passenger while he filled out the little slip. Then he hated them because he had to sit at the stop longer than he liked, especially if he was running late. Now he absently filled out the form and ripped it out of the book with robotic efficiency. He was early today so the extra time it took did not matter much.  He was pulling away from the stop when a young woman asked if his bus stopped close to a certain building. He responded with a nod and a quick glance at her in the mirror. She was pretty. Not like the models who appeared in the advertisements plastered to the side of his bus but a simple pretty. When he was younger he might have tried to strike up a conversation with a witty remark. Now he only smiled briefly before returning his gaze to the road. He used to think he might find love on the bus. After all, he saw dozens of people every day. That meant hundreds per month if you didn’t include the regulars and any one of them could be meant for him. Decades later he still returned to a house empty except for the aging cat that greeted him with a flick of the tail before returning to a nap.  The door opened. A handful of people got off and a large crowd flooded on. This was always a busy stop so he waited a few extra seconds to let the stragglers sprint and get on. The door closed. The hydraulics hissed and the music continued.  In a way, he had found love on the bus. Fifteen years before he had been pulling into the bus station where he would use the restroom and grab a cup of the cheap coffee the company provided when he saw a cat lying by the side of the road. The poor thing had been clipped by a bus and was mewling pitifully so he scooped it up and placed it into a cardboard box that he pulled out of a nearby dumpster. The cat had received a few odd looks from passengers for the remainder of his shift but nobody had complained.  A trip to a nearby vet had informed him that the cat was most likely two to three years old and had some bruising covering a large portion of his right side. Rest and food were the best remedies suggested. Luckily, they were also the cheapest. After a quick stop to the nearby animal shelter and supply store for cat food, he brought the little bundle of fur home. He had made a bed using an old pillow and blanket then filled a bowl with water which he left next to an open can of cat food.  The door opened and two men got off. A woman stepped on and the door closed. The hydraulics hissed and the music continued.  That was fifteen years ago. Now that same cat, whom Hank had never named, was bigger and lazier but no less appreciative of the cans of cat food left every morning. The cat brought Hank a small amount of joy in the purrs while being scratched. Yet, the cat was no woman and was not capable of loving the way a woman could love but Hank had accepted his life without a human companion.  The door opened and a man stepped off. Another large crowd rushed on. This was another busy stop but Hank did not wait because the bus was now full with all seats and standing room occupied. The door closed and he pushed a button activating the human-sounding voice that politely asked passengers to move to the back of the bus in order to make room for those cramped in the front. They hydraulics hissed and the music continued.  In a way, the people he transported had become his companions. There were plenty of regulars who would greet him when they stepped on the bus or give him a friendly wave as they left. Beyond them, the flux of people ebbed and flowed in a way that hardly left his bus empty and this never left him lacking in human interaction.  Some of the regulars had ridden the bus almost as long as he had driven it. A few retiring from long standing jobs only a few years ago while others had started positions shortly after he began driving the route and had moved up in rank at their respective companies. Some disappeared for a few years only to return as they climbed the corporate ladder between companies and, thus, bus routes. He remembered most of them. He had taken a certain pride in aiding such important men and women through their careers. In a way, he had made their success possible even if his only contribution had been a safe and timely ride to work.  The door opened. A few folks stepped off and a woman stepped on. A handful of people stayed at the stop and opted to wait for the next bus. It would be seventeen minutes behind him and significantly less full. There was a shuffling of feet as people adjusted to the slight increase in space. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  The pride was still there but it had subsided somewhat. It was not that he cared less but many of the regulars he had carried for decades had retired and those still remaining were few in number. The new folks had the same level of energy and enthusiasm as the new folks always did but he was less invested in them now because he did not have that same energy and enthusiasm.  The door opened and a crowd of people stepped off. Those who had been standing took now vacant seats and breathed a little easier with the extra space–limited though it was. A young boy and his father stepped on, walked to the back, and took seats facing each other. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  In fact, it was the lack of energy and enthusiasm that made today unique among the routine of Hank’s life. Today was his last day as a bus driver. He had submitted his retirement paperwork two weeks ago and had spent the remaining time confirming retirement options and ensuring that his mailing address was up-to-date for the pension checks. It was. His mailing address had not changed in eighteen years but it was good to make sure.  The reality of retirement had not quite set in yet because he was still driving a bus. Still listening to the music of his life. Tomorrow that would change. For the first time in forty three years, Hank would not have a routine to follow. Sure, he had taken vacations and every week he was given a day off which he tried to coordinate for Sundays so he could attend his weekly church service. Most of his vacation days were around various holidays or to attend the funerals of his parents but he did not really spend much time away from the bus. He took comfort in the work.  The door opened. Two people exited and three stepped on. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Tomorrow would be different than his occasional vacations because he would not have the assurance of returning to work in a day or two. He would probably get bored but he did not dwell on it long. Perhaps out of disinterest or fear but mostly because not working was too big a concept to wrap his head around.  The door opened. Another crowd of people stepped off with only a young-looking couple stepping on. Again, there was a shuffling of feet as people moved to fill the now open space left. Some sat while others stood up in preparation of the next stop. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  If Hank was honest, he was tired. Not physically tired but rather emotionally tired. His job was enjoyable but after forty-three years he could feel himself stretched and worn in ways that he had never considered before. It was an odd feeling and one that he hoped would go away with time because it brought into perspective his mortality. He regularly attended his local Baptist church and believed in the Christian faith but he had never considered how close he was to the end of his life. Perhaps it was because, for many years, he was not actually near the end of his life but retirement marked a milestone that he had not been able to imagine himself passing. Not working was a foreign concept to him but it meant that he was in the last chapter of the book of his life. What would he do with it? He had no idea.  The door opened. The young boy took a leap from the bus to the sidewalk followed by his father and most of the remaining passengers. One person stepped on which made three remaining riders. This was not unusual because there was only one more stop before the end of the line and the end of Hank’s final shift as a bus driver. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Hank, not having a romantic partner, had never really considered children as a missing piece of his life. He appreciated their youthful vigor and occasionally entertaining antics but he did not desire one of his own. Maybe he could volunteer with one of those youth mentorship programs in his retirement–maybe, if he were younger. Children were not something to be introduced in this chapter of his life.  He rounded the corner and pushed a button to initiate the human-sounding voice that announced this next stop as the final stop of the route and encouraged all passengers to depart.  The door opened. Everyone stepped off the bus. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Hank pulled into the bus garage parking lot and arranged his bus in the same spot he always did. He completed his shutdown and end of shift checklist and walked into the building. The garage was oddly empty and silent. There was no chatter of people who normally rode the bus to the end of the line, no laughter of the other bus drivers on a break, and no sounds of running engines. No music.  He punched his time card and began the four block walk to his apartment and the nearby Grey Fox Tavern.  \*\*\*\*\*\*  The next morning Hank rose at the same time he always did and made himself his usual eggs with a piece of toast, absently running through his decades old morning routine. He only paused when reaching for his coat on the way out the door. There was no bus to drive today. Technically, he did not have anywhere to be so he sat down to ponder what to do next.  An hour later, he stood up and put his coat on. Outside his door was the newspaper that he normally would have saved for his lunch break and he grabbed it as he started down the stairs. Still not quite sure where he was going, Hank meandered down the street outside his building and stopped at the bus stop on a street corner. He waited.  The door opened. Hank stepped on the bus and found a seat. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  A few hours later, Hank was still on the bus watching the other passengers and occasionally reading his newspaper when his stomach rumbled. He had lost track of time and it was now around when he would have had a brief break for lunch. The door opened and this time he stepped off the bus.  There was nowhere to eat at the immediate stop but he discovered a little diner roughly half a block away and walked in, little door bells chiming on the door behind him. Bustling with the lunch crowd, the diner was a common scene with cheap wooden chairs and fake leather booths on one side and a little diner bar at the other. Hank obeyed the small “seat yourself” sign and wandered over to a bar-stool to wait for a server.  A woman rushed up to him with a friendly smile and a cursory greeting. She handed him a menu and listed the few lunch specials in a flurry of obviously memorized words. Then she quickly offered to give him a few minutes to read the menu before bustling off to greet a large group of middle aged men in business suits who had grabbed a table close to Hank’s stool.  After ordering his lunch, Hank began to listen to the conversations around him and his focus eventually landed on the boisterous voices from the table of men in suits. They were discussing the boring drudgery of their work–something in sales and finance–and wistfully thinking of what they could do if they had free time. This mostly took the form of time away from their jobs now but occasionally drifted into talk of retirement. One man in particular suggested an interesting idea: buying an RV and driving around the country.  The server placed his lunch on the bar in front of him–a sandwich and bowl of soup–and asked if there was anything else he needed before quickly walking into the kitchen door to retrieve another meal. While he ate his mind returned to the man’s idea of buying an RV and traveling the country. It was appealing to him but was a big change from the life he knew here in the city.  Hank slid a twenty dollar bill under his plate and left the crowded diner. Walking back to the bus stop, he continued to consider the merits of his newfound wanderlust. He waited briefly. A bus pulled into the stop and he stepped on. The door closed, the hydraulics hissed, and the music continued.  Something was different. The familiar sounds of the bus–the music of his life–no longer seemed adequate to him. It was as though the idea of traveling outside the city opened his eyes to the mundane life he had lived and prevented him from continuing to live it.  Hank spent the next several hours watching the people around him but not really connecting to their lives like he had in the past. The thought of travel gnawed on the back of his mind, making him restless and uncomfortable. He stepped off the bus several stops from his apartment with the intent of walking the rest of the way home.  A few blocks and flights of stairs later he arrived at the front door to his apartment. Turning the key and pushing open the door, he paused. It was wrong. He was not sure what was wrong but Hank just had a feeling in his gut. Pacing through the house he sought the source of his disquiet and found it curled into a ball on his bed where the sunlight streamed into the room at noon. His aged cat lay motionless in a way only death can cause.  \*\*\*\*\*\*  A few days later Hank closed the latch on the little door marking the entrance to a space where the ashes of his cat now occupied. At first he was unsure what to do with the body of a dead pet but he did what he felt was right regarding the passing of a friend. The cremation service and storage space that the facility curator called a “crypt” were not cheap but Hank did not have many expenses and his pension provided more than enough for him to live comfortably.  Perhaps it was odd to cremate a pet and place it in a crypt but Hank figured that is what he would hope a friend would do for him so he did it without complaint. Besides, it did not seem right to simply toss a pet corpse into a dumpster. It was not dignified and certainly not respectful of a friend who had been with him so long.  Back on the bus, Hank was faced with the slightly off music of his former life. It was no longer uncomfortable for him but it still was not the music to his life anymore. These past few days had been long and somewhat boring without a regular activity to occupy him so he was glad to have one more stop before heading to the diner for lunch. He stepped off the bus and took a quick glance around, a little unsure of where to go next. He was on the edges of the city and somewhat unfamiliar with the area but he knew the dealership had to be around here somewhere and he was unlikely to miss it so he started walking.  The buildings were not as tall here as in other places in the city plus there was more open space for parking. He strolled through a few blocks, admiring the different scenery until he saw what he was looking for. A sign stood on the street corner announcing the location of “Richies Recreation Rentals and Sales.” Below the sign were dozens of RVs in neat rows, shining new in the mid-morning sun. The vehicles on display were enormous. Most roughly the size of a public bus but many were more akin to the large tour buses that Hank had seen throughout the city.  Hank walked through the rows, awestruck by the sheer number of vehicles for sale. He wondered how such a place could make money. There were no other customers on the lot as far as he could see and keeping this many vehicles stocked had to cost a fortune. He continued to meander up and down the rows when a saleswoman rounded a corner.  She was younger than Hank but most people were nowadays and she wore clean, crisp clothing that was not cheap but not ostentatious either. She was comfortable and confident. Obviously, she knew how to sell.  They exchanged brief introductions and a few minutes of small talk before she asked Hank a handful of questions: how many people would be traveling with him, how long he intended to need the vehicle, and a plethora of other things intending on helping her narrow down his needs. After another few minutes of his explanations and her follow up questions the salesperson gave a conspiratorial grin and beckoned him to follow her down another row of RVs.  The vehicle she stopped in front of was significantly smaller than the behemoths at the front of the lot, being roughly the size of a fifteen foot moving truck, but no less shiny and new. As if to counter that point, she explained that this was two years old and had been a rental that did not see much use due to its size. The price was reduced compared to its newer counterparts because of its age and prior use but it was, for all intents and purposes, new.  She opened the door and gestured him to explore. He stepped on and was amazed at how much was fit into the back. The first thing he saw was a small couch built into the wall followed by a dining booth next to the couch. Across from the booth was a marble-styled kitchen counter with stainless steel sink and single stove top built in. Above the stove was a small microwave and next to both was a mini-fridge followed by a door into what appeared to be a bathroom. Turning around he noticed a loft above the driver and passenger seats that housed a bed.  It looked as though it had everything he would need to live on the road. After a few minutes of poking through the drawers and peeking into the shower stall, he finally asked the price and visibly winced at the saleswoman’s response. It was more than he anticipated and certainly more than he felt comfortable paying.  Noticing his expression, the saleswoman gave him a thoughtful look. A second later she gestured him to follow her again and began striding down the row for RVs even further away from the front of the lot.  At the end of the row was an RV that was clearly older than the rest. It was almost the same size as the one they had just viewed but did not quite have the same shine that the newer models had. The saleswoman informed him that this one was several years old and had only just been discontinued as a rental making it slightly more worn than most RVs they sold. As they approached she provided a price that was more affordable for Hank.  When he stepped inside it was clear that this RV had seen years of use but it was still clean and neat even if the appliances were slightly outdated with a few dings. He toured the little RV and glanced into the fridge, bathroom, and various storage areas; it was roughly the same layout as the new model he had first seen. Turning he saw the same loft with a bed over the driver and passenger seats. After a few more moments of poking around he indicated to the saleswoman that he was willing to purchase but needed a few more days to get things in order.  \*\*\*\*\*\*  Almost a week had passed before Hank stepped off the bus with two suitcases and a medium-sized duffel bag at the bus stop nearest to the RV dealer. He had spent the time selling or donating the furniture from his apartment, negotiating an end to his decades long apartment lease, and setting up a post office box for incoming mail to include his pension checks. Now it was time for him to leave.  A short but slightly strenuous walk from the bus stop to the dealer left him feeling slightly winded has he dragged his bags along the sidewalk. A lifetime of sitting while driving did not make the body well suited for walking while carrying heavy objects. The saleswoman was waiting for him when he arrived, the RV he was to purchase was sitting in front of the office. She smiled and shook his hand before grabbing one of his bags.  A few minutes later he had signed a stack of pages and completed a check for a down payment. Only then did he carry his bags to the door of the RV and step on. He spent a few minutes unpacking his bags with clothes going into various drawers and cooking items going into cabinets before sitting down in the driver’s seat and turning the key.  The engine started and it was a beautiful sound to him. Not the low rumble of the diesel engines used on the buses but a higher pitch but still rumbling sound of a large gas engine. He quickly adjusted his seat and mirrors and pulled out of the parking lot.  He was not quite sure where he was going but he figured he would at least get on the highway before stopping to make a plan. First, however, he needed to top off his gas tank so he pulled into a nearby gas station. As he pumped he considered his life and what was about to become the new norm. Something was missing but he could not quite put his finger on what it was but he finished pumping and climbed back into his seat.  As he drove he passed a sign for a local animal shelter and he new what he had to do so he changed direction away from the highway and toward the shelter. He pulled in and climbed down out of the RV. As he walked up to the doors he could hear dogs barking as they played in the kennels out back but, while he enjoyed petting dogs when he saw them, he was never a “dog person.”  Roughly thirty minutes later he walked out of the shelter carrying a blanket, a box of canned cat food, a few small cat toys, and a fuzzy calico kitten roughly a year old. The cat had been a rescued stray from a nearby park. It had never been given a name.  Settling into the driver’s seat, his new cat curled on the passenger seat beside him, Hank turned the key. The door closed, the engine flared as he accelerated, and the music began once again.


There he sat, if you could call it sitting. Legs propped up on the console, arms crossed, eyes slowly closing. He had sunk so far down in his chair that his chin was pressed up against his chest. Kellek had only a day's worth of scanning left. His job was one of patience, or boredom, depending on how you look at it. The conglomerate would scan deep space for promising asteroid belts and when they found one, they would send him, all alone, to scan the asteroids for valuable minerals. The process was mostly automated. He would tag an asteroid with a small beacon, get into position and begin bombarding the asteroid with varying types and combinations of radiation. It took hours to scan a single asteroid. The cockpit of his small industrial frigate was mostly silent but for the humming of the scanner. His equipment had gone to sleep before he could. A few critical systems remained at attention but the rest powered down to conserve energy. His eyes finally closed and his mind transported him back home, alone still. He had spent most of his life alone, no family and few friends. You *had* to comfortable alone to do this job. Suddenly, he was jolted back to deep space by his ship; The nav system had emitted a short, loud screech. Kellek sprung up in his chair, swinging his legs off the console. This was a sound he did not hear often; Contact Alarm. He was expecting nobody. As far as he knew, the conglomerate were tight lipped about what they found, hoping to be the only ones to profit from it. 3 ships had been detected uncomfortably close. "Someone else must have found this belt.." he thought to himself. Although unlikely this far out, it's possible another corporation had stumbled upon the same asteroid belt as his employer had. The 3 vessels remained at a distance, not moving. They were just far enough away to prevent any kind of scan or IFF. The comm crackled to life. He had been so concentrated on the radar that he didn't even think to try to communicate with the vessels. "Industrial Frigate, power down and prepare to be boarded" That was all he needed to understand what was happening. These weren't other miners, these were pirates. They wanted his data for themselves so they could claim the site and start mining right away. By the time the conglomerate could get another ship out here, the asteroids would have been mined to the core. He also knew that they had no intention of taking prisoners, and they couldn't let him go free; If he could make it to the nearest come relay, he could inform his employer and that would allow the pirates less time to mine the belt. His only chance was to run, and he knew it. Kellek tapped furiously on the touchscreen in front of him, instructing the vessel to power engines and cease scanning. The cockpit slowly came back to life, screens lighting up, the sound of fans spinning. He reached for the long range comms. At this distance, and without a comm relay nearby, he wouldn't be able to talk to anyone but he could at least send out an SOS. Hopefully someone would pick it up.... A few key presses and the screen on the instrument read "SOS AWAY". At that same moment, the 3 vessels began accelerating towards him. "They picked up the SOS!" he said aloud with nobody to hear him. His heart was racing now, they knew he intended to run and their only chance of getting the data was to destroy his vessel and recover the computer core. He slammed the throttle as far as it would go and furiously grabbed the control stick. His ship was an older industrial model, not suitable for any kind of maneuvering let alone running from pirates. He knew his only chance would be to lose the pirates among the asteroids. If he could find a hole in one of them, he might be able to hide until someone answered his SOS. CRAAAAAACK! They shot at him! The ship momentarily lurched to the left as the RCS fought to keep it's bearing. "PORT RCS FAILURE". An error message appeared in red on the main console. They were firing on him; They had hit him. He was close to the belt now, a few more seconds and he would be among the asteroids. His assailants hot in his tail, and gaining, had no intention of letting him slip away. As he approached the nearest rock, ordinance could be seen exploding on it's surface. They were still firing at him. Kellek's hands were sweating and his grip on the controls was such that his knuckles were as white as his face. He yanked the control stick backwards swinging his ship around the back of the asteroid he was scanning. He was safe for a few minutes; He had put a rock between him and the pirates. His eyes darted around the asteroid frantically as he looked for a hole or crevice where he could park and power down. Absolutely nothing. The asteroid was as featureless as the prairies where he grew up. The pirates would easily spot his ship without any cover. He was about to re-emerge in view of the pirates. He had to make a decision; Should he try to make it to another asteroid, or should he surrender and hope the pirates were feeling generous. As he came out of the cover of the asteroid, the pirates came back into view, much closer than before. Without much thought, Kellek quickly flipped a switch labelled "BRDCST". "If you come any closer i'll purge the computer core and you'll get nothing!" he barked into the mic. The pirates slowed to match his peed. "If you do that, your dead anyways..." said one of them after a few moments of silence. He was right, if he purged the core, he would lose all of his navigational data. If they didn't destroy him out of anger, he would be stranded out here until he died of hunger. "Don't be a hero. Power down or be destroyed. No matter what you do, you are *not* getting out of this alive". Kellek was beginning to think the same. His ship was pointed at another asteroid, hurdling through space as fast as it's small engines could push it. He was a few minutes out from the next rock. "Have it your way." said the pirate. Kellek froze. Was this it? Was he going to die all alone in the middle of nowhere? The ship was screaming at him now; Alarms blaring. The pirates had accelerated again and were closing fast. He glanced at the radar and his heart sank when he saw that two small dots had left the pirates and were headed straight for him. Missiles. His hands fell away from the controls and he sank back in his chair. Hardly a minute left before the missiles reached him, Kellek had given up. He gazed through the window in front of him, rapidly trying to decide if he regretted anything. The missiles were only 10 seconds out now. At least it would be fast. The same alarm that had signaled the start of his demise rang out from the nav computer once more. "CONTACT: CRUISER CLASS - IFF: FRIENDLY" Almost as soon as the alarm sounded, the two missiles disappeared of the radar. Kellek whipped his head around in the direction of the contact. A conglomerate vessel! But how did they make it out here so fast? "Industrial frigate this is EV Xerxes. Set an intercept course to this vessel, docking bay 4 is all yours". It didn't matter how they got here. A few taps on the nav and his ship swung around to face the cruiser. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The pirates fired on him again! They weren't giving up. "PROPULSION FAILURE - RCS FAILURE" His ship began spinning slowly, unable to maintain it's bearing. The pirates had hit his engines, killing them. The starboard RCS thrusters were firing wildly. He was still a few minutes out from the cruiser, and the pirates would reach him before his would-be saviors could. "I can eject!" Kellek exclaimed, again with nobody to hear him. If he ejected now, the cruiser might be able to locate him before his life support ran out and the pirates would be more interested in fighting off the cruiser than taking him out. He swung his arms over his head, reaching for the helmet attached to the back of his seat. He jammed the it over his head and into the locking mechanism on his suit. A green light appeared in the top of his visor indicating that his suit was vacuum-ready. He reached for the two eject handles, one on either side of his seat but paused just before yanking them. Kellek quickly leaned forward and started tapping furiously at the console. He navigated to the reactor control screen and set the power 300%. The computer refused, informing him that anything above 130% would cause the reactor to overload. This is precisely what he wanted! After typing his override codes and dismissing a plethora of warning messages and confirmation dialogues, the ship reluctantly cooperated, setting the reactor to 300% power generation. "Industrial frigate, EV Xerxes. It doesn't look like we are going to make it to you in time... Can you eject?" Kellek was already sitting straight as an arrow in his seat with both hands on the ejection handles. SWOOOOSH! The now unattached canopy of the cockpit separated from the ship with explosive force as the atmosphere inside pushed it away. The cockpit chair unlatched from the floor and a small thruster underneath shot Kellek away from his ship with amazing force. His vision narrowed as he accelerated away from his vessel, the G force was tremendous. Kellek focused on breathing, not wanting to lose consciousness. He turned his head towards his ship and grinned at what he saw; One of the pirates had begun docking with it, undoubtedly to retrieve the computer core. He looked for the others. They had continued on to fend off the cruiser. In a spectacular flash of light, both his ship and the boarding pirate were gone. The reactor had given up and exploded just as the computer had foreseen! Seconds later, the other two pirates had broken off from the cruiser, one heavily damaged but still able to maneuver. They headed for the belt. It was their turn to try to hide. Kellek flipped open a small control pad on his armrest and activated a beacon hoping the cruiser would be looking for it. "We've got you! Hang on, we're going to grab you with the cargo scoop". The voice played loudly through his helmet. The cruiser was coming straight for him now, the cargo scoop on it's underside was wide open and as it got closer he could make out two men floating at the mouth of the scoop, ready to grab him as the cruiser swallowed him whole. "You are one lucky son of a bitch" said a young man with two chevrons on either shoulder as he unlatched Kellek from his chair. The cargo scoop had closed and had re-pressurized. It felt wonderful to take his helmet off. "How the hell did you guys find me?" Asked Kellek "That's.. erm... classified" Said the Corporal, avoiding Kellek's eyes. "Fine, I'm just grateful." "We can bring you to the nearest comm relay and set you up with a ride back home, but we need to get back to our assignment ASAP" said the young man. Kellek nodded with a look of immense gratitude, though he couldn't help feeling something wasn't quite right. How had they gotten to him so quickly? Why was the corporal acting so secretive? It didn't matter. He was safe, and he was going home. A voice came over the ship's intercom: "Contacts are leaving the belt, set condition 3 throughout the ship" "If you'll follow me to the medbay we can get you checked out." Said the corporal. The end.


PROLOGUE I don't know how it happened. Only that it was a slow process. First the weak, the young and old, the Ill and poor. They were the first to show signs. They slept more and more which wasn't that noticeable because they sleep all the time anyway. However we noticed the problem when they stopped waking up. Then the average people and even the well off started sleeping. This went on for the next six months. No one could figure out how to wake them up or to stop people from falling asleep. At the end of the first year all the people who were still awake moved everyone else to a central city. The sleepers were put in pods that kept them alive providing them with nutrients and other basic needs. The pods monitored them and recorded data in hopes of finding some answers. Every one else was also give a pod in preparation for the worst. Luckily the city runs itself so all we had to do was research and by the end the computers were doing that too. By the end of the second year I was the only one awake. Which I question every day. Why me? Of the millions in the pods why am I awake? CHAPTER 1 : AWAKE I started recording this as a precaution, in the case that I do become a sleeper or if someone wakes up I can fill them in on what happened. This camera is powered by solar panels with a backup plasma battery so I never really need to worry about it dying. ..... Dying that's something that you forget about when you have an entire world that just fell asleep. For two years now I haven't thought about death. Sleeping seemed so much more likely. The fear of going to sleep and not waking up. The ever present possibility of a necessity becoming a prison. That seems more real. Every day I do the same thing. I wake up it gets a little later daily, two years ago I woke up at nine am, a year later it was ten today eleven. After awake up I check the pods, I know the alarm will sound if anything happens. High pitched if a system failed. Low pitched if someone wakes, but I check away. Then I eat, the auto farm produces enough to feed everyone but I carbon freeze the rest for reserves. After breakfast I play pokemon go. It's dumb but it passes the time I carry two phones and play against myself, valor verses mystic, I take the gyms and hit the pokestops one day and the next I switch to the other phone. I helps me feel like it's the good old days. Not to mention it helps me stay active. I come back for lunch around two and after lunch I conduct my research. I'm not a scientist but you pick up a few things when there are ten people awake in the world and the other nine are fading fast so I learned everything I could and now I do the research while they sleep. Five o'clock is quitting time I eat dinner and shower then bed by seven. Then repeat over and over. When I'm lying in my bunk trying to sleep but being too afraid to let it happen, I often think of the days before. They seem like a dream now so surreal that it couldn't be the truth. That life had to be nothing more that a dream. CHAPTER 2 : DREAM I was a handyman before. Nothing special, not a man of science or a politician. Just someone to call when you needed a carpenter or a plumber. My dad always said that's something that will always be needed. They may have computers for everything else but they can't duplicate the human touch. The craftsmanship. So I followed his words. I served in the army first though. The draft for the war with Russia had just kicked off when I turned eighteen and sure enough three months later I was at Fort Benning, Georgia for basic training and infantry school. I served two tours in Siberia as forward forces against the attack on Alaska. When the sleep started taking people I thought it was the Russians attempting some kind of biological attack. But when most of Russia fell asleep I knew I must be wrong. I'd give anything to be back on that battlefield now. At least then I had allies around me and a clear objective. Now the gun shots are silent, the battle cries are only echoes in my head and the died are only sleeping. So it's my job to them wake up. I've had to become a scientist and put down my hammer spending hours researching book after book to find an answer that's never been found. Now instead of fighting with a rifle my fight is one of the mind. CHAPTER 3 : MIND I've been completely alone for about two months now. I have a routine which makes me feel safe. However I can feel my mind slipping. Talking to sleepers, talking to myself, Talking to walls. Desperate for something to talk back. To help me focus I've begun to play my recording back each night. Not to mention pokemon go actually really helps. I pretend that the other phone is someone else and I'll look at some of the other phones, if they have it I use them too. As a "guest appearance". CHAPTER 4 : APPEARANCE There is a lure! A pokemon lure! I didn't place it but it's there. I opened the app and there it was twenty five minutes left on a pokestop maybe 7 miles away. Someone else is here. Not me and not a sleeper but another person who is awake! They know I'm here and that I play pokemon go. So they've probably been watching me for some time now. Do I go to it and see what they want? Do I start building defenses and prepare for them to attack? If I get captured or killed there will be no one to protect the sleepers but this lure could be an olive branch and I have been extremely lonely. That settles it I'll go. I am taking a rifle and sidearm though, just in case. *The man moves out of view as he turns the camera around and straps it to his helmet* let's go see if it's friend or foe. CHAPTER 5: FRIEND OR FOE *The man rides his bike check the phone every few minutes to make sure he's heading the right way, once he gets close he drops his bike. He pulls up his rifle and starts moving forward, slowly moving his head back and forth between buildings scanning for danger* OKAY I'M HERE! What do you want? *A second voice answers from the shadows *"I'll answer with another question. What do you want?" I want to know who you are and why you've been watching me. "Is that all you want? How boring." Answer me and show yourself. " I am the reason your friends are asleep and I have been watching to understand why you are not yet asleep. I wanted to place the 'lure' to see how you would react. I will answer nothing else at this time. Goodbye" wait! I have more questions. *silence* Damn, what the hell just happened. *biking back as fast as he can the man arrives to the pods and does his checks* no harm has come to the pods so why draw me out? Was that really the voice of who ever was responsible for all the sleepers. If so how. A virus? A poison? What could it be? And who are they? Most importantly what happens next? CHAPTER 6: NEXT For the last five days I've rode back to the pokestop where the voice was but nothing else has happened. I'm more paranoid than ever now. I've built fortifications all around the area, trip wires that trigger alarms, and pit falls. However if they really have been watching they'll know exactly where to step. Other than to check the stop I don't leave camp. No more casual pokemon go. Who ever that was they definitely have pushed me closer to insanity. CHAPTER 7: INSANITY Its been a month since the event. A week since I checked the site. I have been hearing voices from the pods. The sleepers I think they are trying to tell me something. .... maybe if I close my eyes I can focus on the words. Yes I hear them. They know the secrets. They say they'll tell me. *the man sits quietly for a few minutes eyes closed face still. He then falls forward dropping the camera. As he lays there asleep foot steps are hear from behind the camera.