Milton
checked the figures on his sheet and rolled the dice.
"Got
it," he said excitedly.
Ayanami
nodded from the head of the table, checked her notes. She brushed her
blue bangs out of her eyes and fixed Milton with a dramatic stare.
"So Scorpio takes the shot and the bullet punctures the panel.
Sparks fly... And the steel doors slide open. Everyone make one final
health check as the toxins evacuate the chamber."
Shinji
made his, as did Milton - and good thing because he was almost out -
but Asuka failed hers.
Ayanami
continued. "So Aries and Scorpio stay conscious, but you guys
still have the action penalty. Gemini passes out."
"I
start CPR," Shinji said, rolling the dice. "Got a
seventeen."
"I
try and keep aim on the doorway," Milton said.
"Alright,
Gemini, you get another health check now, at +3 thanks to Aries. And
Scorpio, your vision is still a little blurry, but you can make out
one of the genetically modified security dogs creeping slowly down
the hall. It snarls at you." As Ayanami described the scene, she
also passed Milton a note, private character info the other players
couldn't hear.
The
note said: Scorpio
hears a faint buzzing sound inside his head and a staticky voice says
'This transmission is coming to you...'
Milton and some of the other morning commuters had gotten to know each
other over the months that they had all shared a car to and from work each
day. Milton would often retell the events from his Sunday night
gaming group to one or more of the regular train passengers, if he
felt that they were in the mood to hear it. He knew they humoured him a
lot, and thought him geeky, but they also seemed to enjoy hearing
about the ongoing adventures of The Zodiac Squad.
Of course, they had
no idea that Milton's gaming group didn't actually exist - that it was
something he imagined every night as he fell asleep. A
wish-fulfillment fantasy where he played a Role-Playing Game with the
characters from the anime Neon
Genesis Evangelion. Sometimes
he would imagine Ayanami or Asuka going home with him afterwards, but
mostly he imagined the gaming sessions. He knew it was strange to
imagine pretending to be Scorpio instead of imagining actually being
Scorpio, but for some reason he couldn't do it. He had this almost
superstitious idea that if he started imagining being Scorpio rather
than wanting to be him, that he would somehow never actually become
Scorpio in real life.
So
every Monday morning during the commute by train into the city,
Milton Reddings told his made-up stories about made-up stories.
Except the bits about sleeping with cartoon characters.
And
this Monday morning one of his regular audience members said, "You
know Milton, we could always use a guy like you at the company. If
you ever get tired of your current job, that is." He handed
Milton his business card.
"Thanks
Greg," Milton said. He didn't exactly know what it was that Greg
did for a living, but he seemed happy and well-paid.
Milton looked at
the card. All it said, above the phone number and the name Greg
Logollos, was LEGACY.
20131226
The Space Between
Frank
sat on the bench on the platform; he was in the middle of a Dirk Pitt
adventure when Goner plumped down beside him.
"Damn this is weird," Goner said.
Frank chuckled because weirdness was all part of the package.
"Getting bored are we?"
"We've been here for days it seems. The train hasn't moved and there is no freakin' exits here."
Frank had thought about that but he really didn't have an explanation at all, but something was definitely wrong. He was way past the point of worrying. He now knew how Neo felt in Matrix Revolutions where he was locked between worlds. If he got a chance he would hunt up that movie and watch it again.
"Don't you find this uncomforting?" Goner asked. "I have a strange feeling as if someone has pissed off the DM."
That's when Frank laughed out loud whole-heartily.
"Damn this is weird," Goner said.
Frank chuckled because weirdness was all part of the package.
"Getting bored are we?"
"We've been here for days it seems. The train hasn't moved and there is no freakin' exits here."
Frank had thought about that but he really didn't have an explanation at all, but something was definitely wrong. He was way past the point of worrying. He now knew how Neo felt in Matrix Revolutions where he was locked between worlds. If he got a chance he would hunt up that movie and watch it again.
"Don't you find this uncomforting?" Goner asked. "I have a strange feeling as if someone has pissed off the DM."
That's when Frank laughed out loud whole-heartily.
20131224
Convergence Two
Detective
Musharef offered to drive. Stone let him. He was a nice enough guy;
Stone wanted to try and make this work.
They talked as they headed towards the crime scene. Musharef had just had a short story published in a magazine. He was about to test for his 2nd Degree black belt in Taekwondo. He volunteered at a local children's theatre company. It wasn't that he was bragging, only that wherever Stone tried to take the conversation, Musharef had an achievement waiting there. He offered them up humbly, as casual points of interest, not badges of honor. All that and the Lt. had said he was a great cop too.
Stone thought about Colleen, about his tour of duty. Thought about his therapy for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Thought about his therapy after Riveta... Thought about Riveta. Wondered where everything had gone. Not gone wrong, or gone right. Just gone.
And he thought about that message on his answering machine. Just as Musharef started telling a story.
"So my girlfriend calls me and says 'Do you remember that dream I had last night?'. She had had this dream about being bitten by a spider and all these baby spiders growing inside her. Now at this point she didn't know I had been invited by my buddy to see the latest Spiderman movie yet. So she tells me how in the novel she's reading while she's waiting at the pharmacy, there's this character who collects spiders. And right then, this little girl who's there with her mom, says, 'Look mom-' and she holds up this tangled bit of string '-I made a spider!' Weird, huh?"
The same pattern occurring at all levels.
We have to find a way out.
A call came in on the police band. "All units be advised. A suspect has been spotted on foot in the Davis-Brockton area, female, mid-teens, brown skin, black hair, goes by the name Meagan."
"That's where we're headed," Musharef said.
"All units please be advised. A large animal, likely a canine, possibly rabid, has also been reported in that area..."
They talked as they headed towards the crime scene. Musharef had just had a short story published in a magazine. He was about to test for his 2nd Degree black belt in Taekwondo. He volunteered at a local children's theatre company. It wasn't that he was bragging, only that wherever Stone tried to take the conversation, Musharef had an achievement waiting there. He offered them up humbly, as casual points of interest, not badges of honor. All that and the Lt. had said he was a great cop too.
Stone thought about Colleen, about his tour of duty. Thought about his therapy for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Thought about his therapy after Riveta... Thought about Riveta. Wondered where everything had gone. Not gone wrong, or gone right. Just gone.
And he thought about that message on his answering machine. Just as Musharef started telling a story.
"So my girlfriend calls me and says 'Do you remember that dream I had last night?'. She had had this dream about being bitten by a spider and all these baby spiders growing inside her. Now at this point she didn't know I had been invited by my buddy to see the latest Spiderman movie yet. So she tells me how in the novel she's reading while she's waiting at the pharmacy, there's this character who collects spiders. And right then, this little girl who's there with her mom, says, 'Look mom-' and she holds up this tangled bit of string '-I made a spider!' Weird, huh?"
The same pattern occurring at all levels.
We have to find a way out.
A call came in on the police band. "All units be advised. A suspect has been spotted on foot in the Davis-Brockton area, female, mid-teens, brown skin, black hair, goes by the name Meagan."
"That's where we're headed," Musharef said.
"All units please be advised. A large animal, likely a canine, possibly rabid, has also been reported in that area..."
Different Name, Same Show
Simon
sipped his tea. His head hurt, it had been hurting a lot lately.
Migraines, powerful ones that felt like his head was going to
implode. He remembered getting these headaches as a child, long ago.
His grandmother would take him in her arms and rock him while singing
a song.
He didn't know what to do. He had stopped taking aspirin, tylenol and other medications since they only seemed to pollute the body with chemicals.
But with these migraines it seemed he was being divulged with massive information, his brain processing images and events that seemed to happen, or didn't happen but he was remembering them as if they did. He winced again.
He picked up his tea and sipped, the liquid felt like heaven as it ran over his taste buds. Green tea was doing the trick.
"You okay, Simon?" Shelly asked. She took the chair opposite him.
"Looks like you're in another world."
"Sometimes I feel like I am," Simon replied. He had closed the notebook in front of him with what looked like a list of items and events and dates, but Shelly couldn't make them out.
He didn't know what to do. He had stopped taking aspirin, tylenol and other medications since they only seemed to pollute the body with chemicals.
But with these migraines it seemed he was being divulged with massive information, his brain processing images and events that seemed to happen, or didn't happen but he was remembering them as if they did. He winced again.
He picked up his tea and sipped, the liquid felt like heaven as it ran over his taste buds. Green tea was doing the trick.
"You okay, Simon?" Shelly asked. She took the chair opposite him.
"Looks like you're in another world."
"Sometimes I feel like I am," Simon replied. He had closed the notebook in front of him with what looked like a list of items and events and dates, but Shelly couldn't make them out.
20131223
Convergence One
Susanna's
feet were tired; somehow retail was more exhausting than teaching.
Maybe the smile of a satisfied customer didn't match the smile of a
child who had just figured out a solution to a problem. She needed to
figure out her own solution to her own problem.
Leaving teaching to pursue music had seemed like the great leap. She hadn't had any illusions about making it big, she knew it would be a struggle, she loved the romance of that. It had paid off - two years of barely-made rent, small gigs at local bars, a few in nearby towns, decent after-show sales of her homemade CD, a tiny bit of buzz in tiny corners of the net. Except that she hadn't written anything new. Not a single song or melody.
Susanna hung the sweater up on the rack and suddenly felt a massive rush of deja vu. Her heart skipped, her breath caught, she turned just like she had, like she knew she would, not knowing why and the woman was running towards her. And Susanna let her body go limp because she knew it was coming and the woman tackled her. They crashed down into the clothing rack, the spring line-up fluttering around them, the strange wolf-like creature snarling in the air, its teeth snapping where they had been standing. The woman rolling them both, colours entangling them, the beast landing and turning and growling. And the woman's hand reaching out and snapping suddenly. Thunder.
Susanna pulled herself free. The store muzak crept into the sudden silence. Everything was moving slowly except her heart.
The woman steadied her. "I'm Dete- I'm Sandrine. Sandrine Riveta." She replaced the pistol in the holster under her jacket, took out a photo. "Please, do you know this man?"
It was the principal of Susanna's old school. Mr. Donnelly.
Leaving teaching to pursue music had seemed like the great leap. She hadn't had any illusions about making it big, she knew it would be a struggle, she loved the romance of that. It had paid off - two years of barely-made rent, small gigs at local bars, a few in nearby towns, decent after-show sales of her homemade CD, a tiny bit of buzz in tiny corners of the net. Except that she hadn't written anything new. Not a single song or melody.
Susanna hung the sweater up on the rack and suddenly felt a massive rush of deja vu. Her heart skipped, her breath caught, she turned just like she had, like she knew she would, not knowing why and the woman was running towards her. And Susanna let her body go limp because she knew it was coming and the woman tackled her. They crashed down into the clothing rack, the spring line-up fluttering around them, the strange wolf-like creature snarling in the air, its teeth snapping where they had been standing. The woman rolling them both, colours entangling them, the beast landing and turning and growling. And the woman's hand reaching out and snapping suddenly. Thunder.
Susanna pulled herself free. The store muzak crept into the sudden silence. Everything was moving slowly except her heart.
The woman steadied her. "I'm Dete- I'm Sandrine. Sandrine Riveta." She replaced the pistol in the holster under her jacket, took out a photo. "Please, do you know this man?"
It was the principal of Susanna's old school. Mr. Donnelly.
The Zen of Nothing
Suki
ducked down behind the car. She knew it would only hold off another
few attacks before it would be blown apart. But that gave her some
time to think.
Click. Click.
"Well duh," she replied. "You think?"
Click.
"Well I can afford to be snooty," she replied. She powered up the Godhammer again. "Just need an escape route now, that's what I truly need."
She glanced around the parking garage looking for somewhere or something that would offer better protection.
Several rounds hit the car, sending shards of metal flying as well as glass.
Click.
"Yeah I know, Sundance," she replied. "It's now or never."
Click. Click.
"Well duh," she replied. "You think?"
Click.
"Well I can afford to be snooty," she replied. She powered up the Godhammer again. "Just need an escape route now, that's what I truly need."
She glanced around the parking garage looking for somewhere or something that would offer better protection.
Several rounds hit the car, sending shards of metal flying as well as glass.
Click.
"Yeah I know, Sundance," she replied. "It's now or never."
20131222
Real Time Saves Nine
Frank
opened his eyes and stretched; he had fallen asleep. The subway car
was stopped and the doors opened and he glanced around.
Akimoto was sitting in a lotus position in deep meditation, so he didn't want to bother the Norse ronin.
He reached over and touched Tatter on the shoulder; she shot up as if touched with a branding iron.
"It's me," Frank said, leaning back and holding up his hands.
"Sorry," Tatter meekly replied. She hadn't been able to sleep at all. It seemed her functions were still jumbled a bit. "Just that..."
"No worries, Tat," Frank said. He stood up and looked up and down the car. "You know where the others went?"
"Aqua and Dex went to get some food," Tatter replied.
"And Max, Maggie, Suki..." Frank began but then he saw the puzzled look on Tatter's face. "What is it?"
"Max?" Tattered said. "Who's he?"
Akimoto was sitting in a lotus position in deep meditation, so he didn't want to bother the Norse ronin.
He reached over and touched Tatter on the shoulder; she shot up as if touched with a branding iron.
"It's me," Frank said, leaning back and holding up his hands.
"Sorry," Tatter meekly replied. She hadn't been able to sleep at all. It seemed her functions were still jumbled a bit. "Just that..."
"No worries, Tat," Frank said. He stood up and looked up and down the car. "You know where the others went?"
"Aqua and Dex went to get some food," Tatter replied.
"And Max, Maggie, Suki..." Frank began but then he saw the puzzled look on Tatter's face. "What is it?"
"Max?" Tattered said. "Who's he?"
Beltane
Maggie
eased into the booth, couldn't hide the wince. Got centered, quick
check of the bandages wrapped around her stomach.
"No secret, love, you look rough," Crow said.
Maggie smiled wryly. "I didn't know this place had a 'no tact' policy."
Crow shrugged apologetically, put on that sweet face, instantly child-like. Mags could never resist it. Crow knew every bit of her and how to trick it out of the water and onto the shore; angel, warrior, idol, mother, monster. "I worry, is all."
Mags rested her elbows on the table. Crow poured her some tea. Another cafe, another city, another meeting, another wound.
"Is this it?" she asked.
Crow sighed. "I don't know, love. I hope it isn't."
"It feels like the same thing but at the same time so much has changed."
Crow sipped some tea. "Level X."
Maggie sighed. "I know, I know."
"You still miss him," Crow said.
Maggie sipped her tea. Didn't reply, didn't acknowledge but didn't ignore either. Music played from the speakers. Acoustic guitar. A novel got read, a debate was had, plans were made to attend a concert, a teacher was complained about. The wound in her side itched and ached, kept her from really understanding all those exchanges around them, and she hated it and loved it for that.
"I was thinking about Angst last night," she said.
"The cheerleader? Hey, isn't that weird?" Crow looked excited. "How that Slayer on TV started out as a cheerleader, and you used to run with one, way back when."
Maggie wondered how long ago it had been exactly. "That's what trips your weird-meter these days? The multidimensional demonic conspiracy is nothing special but a minor synchronicity on a TV show..." She arched her eyebrow in mock judgement.
Crow put on a defeated look. "What about her?"
"I dream of her a lot. She's yelling at me... It's not quite her exactly. Or maybe it's what she turned into, after..."
Crow didn't press the question. Things were tense lately. Felt on the verge. If Maggie was being haunted, well, it was nothing new for her. The work still needed to get done.
"So, Maggie my dear, we need to have a conversation about this Simon Light fellow."
"No secret, love, you look rough," Crow said.
Maggie smiled wryly. "I didn't know this place had a 'no tact' policy."
Crow shrugged apologetically, put on that sweet face, instantly child-like. Mags could never resist it. Crow knew every bit of her and how to trick it out of the water and onto the shore; angel, warrior, idol, mother, monster. "I worry, is all."
Mags rested her elbows on the table. Crow poured her some tea. Another cafe, another city, another meeting, another wound.
"Is this it?" she asked.
Crow sighed. "I don't know, love. I hope it isn't."
"It feels like the same thing but at the same time so much has changed."
Crow sipped some tea. "Level X."
Maggie sighed. "I know, I know."
"You still miss him," Crow said.
Maggie sipped her tea. Didn't reply, didn't acknowledge but didn't ignore either. Music played from the speakers. Acoustic guitar. A novel got read, a debate was had, plans were made to attend a concert, a teacher was complained about. The wound in her side itched and ached, kept her from really understanding all those exchanges around them, and she hated it and loved it for that.
"I was thinking about Angst last night," she said.
"The cheerleader? Hey, isn't that weird?" Crow looked excited. "How that Slayer on TV started out as a cheerleader, and you used to run with one, way back when."
Maggie wondered how long ago it had been exactly. "That's what trips your weird-meter these days? The multidimensional demonic conspiracy is nothing special but a minor synchronicity on a TV show..." She arched her eyebrow in mock judgement.
Crow put on a defeated look. "What about her?"
"I dream of her a lot. She's yelling at me... It's not quite her exactly. Or maybe it's what she turned into, after..."
Crow didn't press the question. Things were tense lately. Felt on the verge. If Maggie was being haunted, well, it was nothing new for her. The work still needed to get done.
"So, Maggie my dear, we need to have a conversation about this Simon Light fellow."
Enders End Begins Again
Version
Light Delta 54-c-alpha
I am the ender, the light the of shadows
I am the begin, the darkness of dreams
When I cry, I cry alone
When I laugh, I laugh alone
I am Ender the Omega
I am Alpha the Beginning
Alone I am
Am I alone?
No one knows me for who I am
And what I've done or have failed to do
I am the ender, the light the of shadows
I am the begin, the darkness of dreams
When I cry, I cry alone
When I laugh, I laugh alone
I am Ender the Omega
I am Alpha the Beginning
Alone I am
Am I alone?
No one knows me for who I am
And what I've done or have failed to do
From This World to the Next
Version
Elephant Cobra
Scorpio almost passed out. He grabbed hold of awake and clung to it, the weird lighting of the internet cafe punching into his eyes, his stomach wrestling with the deluge of coffee. He grit his teeth, he clenched his fists. He imagined Wolverine from X2 carving his way through the soldiers storming Xavier's. He took a deep breath. He almost passed out.
Typing quickly, then slowly, sometimes needing to find each key, sometimes running across the keyboard, drunk tightrope, words mispelled, didn't matter these days. Bad spelling, new jargon, Scorpio caught between the two. Hoping he wouldn't fall asleep, didn't want to be awake anymore, caught between the two.
Couldn't let her go. Couldn't let her log out. Didn't know how to ask. Couldn't stay silent. Caught between. Could she tell, could she tell as his text appeared on her screen, wherever she was, whoever she was, how messed up he felt, how desperate he was. Did the stark lines and curves capture the apocalypse in him or erase it. Magic runes summoning the right feeling in her, or suburban architecture strip-malling the forest inside him.
He could just ask, but she was already asking. Would his question connect them or scare her off or worse sound contrived, his true desperate agenda inverted into a ploy, an online flash of a smile and a wink, boozy end-of-the-night lunge for the finish line.
And if she was asking then she couldn't tell him. But maybe he didn't really need to know, he only needed to know that others were asking too...
Except for all the typing he was doing, all the passing-out he wasn't doing, keeping the exchange running, lobbing text at each other across whatever was between them, he couldn't aim for what she had put on display - he envied her courage, he feared her intent. He almost typed about it, finally, but he had another strange flash of black-suited men storming the cafe and he almost passed out again.
He stared at the screen. The chat window open. Their exchange about politics and movies. Her name and quote in the top corner.
Mayganne - who is max cube?
Scorpio almost passed out. He grabbed hold of awake and clung to it, the weird lighting of the internet cafe punching into his eyes, his stomach wrestling with the deluge of coffee. He grit his teeth, he clenched his fists. He imagined Wolverine from X2 carving his way through the soldiers storming Xavier's. He took a deep breath. He almost passed out.
Typing quickly, then slowly, sometimes needing to find each key, sometimes running across the keyboard, drunk tightrope, words mispelled, didn't matter these days. Bad spelling, new jargon, Scorpio caught between the two. Hoping he wouldn't fall asleep, didn't want to be awake anymore, caught between the two.
Couldn't let her go. Couldn't let her log out. Didn't know how to ask. Couldn't stay silent. Caught between. Could she tell, could she tell as his text appeared on her screen, wherever she was, whoever she was, how messed up he felt, how desperate he was. Did the stark lines and curves capture the apocalypse in him or erase it. Magic runes summoning the right feeling in her, or suburban architecture strip-malling the forest inside him.
He could just ask, but she was already asking. Would his question connect them or scare her off or worse sound contrived, his true desperate agenda inverted into a ploy, an online flash of a smile and a wink, boozy end-of-the-night lunge for the finish line.
And if she was asking then she couldn't tell him. But maybe he didn't really need to know, he only needed to know that others were asking too...
Except for all the typing he was doing, all the passing-out he wasn't doing, keeping the exchange running, lobbing text at each other across whatever was between them, he couldn't aim for what she had put on display - he envied her courage, he feared her intent. He almost typed about it, finally, but he had another strange flash of black-suited men storming the cafe and he almost passed out again.
He stared at the screen. The chat window open. Their exchange about politics and movies. Her name and quote in the top corner.
Mayganne - who is max cube?
Pocket Universes
Version
Angel Zero
Suki stepped out of StarCoffee with an extra-large double-cream double-sugar coffee in her hands.
If it was one thing she liked about this it was that the coffee was next to divine in taste.
Click. Click. Click
Suki began crossing the street before answering.
"It's like we are all in our own pocket universes," Suki said as she pulled the tab back on her coffee lid.
Click. Click.
"No, not really," she replied once she took a sip. "I really don't have a friggin' clue on what to do at this particular moment."
Click.
"For all I know we could be just lint specks in some guy's pocket," she replied.
Suki stepped out of StarCoffee with an extra-large double-cream double-sugar coffee in her hands.
If it was one thing she liked about this it was that the coffee was next to divine in taste.
Click. Click. Click
Suki began crossing the street before answering.
"It's like we are all in our own pocket universes," Suki said as she pulled the tab back on her coffee lid.
Click. Click.
"No, not really," she replied once she took a sip. "I really don't have a friggin' clue on what to do at this particular moment."
Click.
"For all I know we could be just lint specks in some guy's pocket," she replied.
The Holographic Universe
Version
Crimson Falling
Stone keyed in the numbers to access his voice-mail as he shrugged off his suit jacket. One message.
"...get it now, see how the one reflects into the many and back again. The same pattern occurring at all levels. The war in Iraq and the behaviour of the government is the exact same equation as the way my family reacted to my Dad getting cancer is the exact same equation as when we all flipped out when the Lieutenant got fired is the exact same equation as the way they're arguing online. And I can't see a way out, we need to find a way out."
Stone's eyes were wide. He gasped for breath, felt dizzy.
Riveta.
Stone keyed in the numbers to access his voice-mail as he shrugged off his suit jacket. One message.
"...get it now, see how the one reflects into the many and back again. The same pattern occurring at all levels. The war in Iraq and the behaviour of the government is the exact same equation as the way my family reacted to my Dad getting cancer is the exact same equation as when we all flipped out when the Lieutenant got fired is the exact same equation as the way they're arguing online. And I can't see a way out, we need to find a way out."
Stone's eyes were wide. He gasped for breath, felt dizzy.
Riveta.
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