Ash

The fire spread through my mind, faster than it was spreading through the house.  Neurons flared, pathways burned, and I watched the destruction wrought by my own hands.  I talked softly to myself; the plan was proceeding as - well, as planned.


In my hand was the crystal chalice she had given me for our fifteenth anniversary.  A cocktail of barbiturates, methadone, and absinthe glimmered softly, the liquid swirling lazily inside the glass as I rocked from side to side.  I hummed our song gently, and took another sip of my drink.  She looked so serene.


Flames danced in my eyes.  The fire had really taken hold now, floor and furniture ablaze.  I winced slightly as I heard the first crack of supporting beams but watched the ceiling fall in, bringing down the contents of the room above and showering me in sparks.  I took one last look at her face and left.


I took the back door, through the alley between houses, and began meandering along the road.  The night's darkness cradled me like a blanket while I stumbled forward.  At the end of my street I glanced back at the old house.  Flames danced in the windows, a sad ballet performed in tribute to the immolation of my home.  I continued onward, to the church.  Forgiveness awaited, perhaps.


I wandered through the graveyard and sat at the plot where her ashes lay.  From my pocket I pulled the now slightly charred photograph I'd held as I watched the fire, my fire, cremate the ghost of the life we once had.  The same photograph I'd held as her body was consigned to the flames eight years ago.


Before I lost the will, or the ability, I dispatched the contents of the chalice and lay my head on her grave.


[Original image by Davy Kelly http://www.davykelly.co.uk/2010/09/photographing-fire/]

Insecurity.

"Password."

Worst password ever.

"Welcome, Qwerty Monkey Jesus."  the security gate intoned.

I hate this place.  That is quite possibly the worst code name ever.

"Love money."  the gate again, testing my knowledge.

"Freedom, ninja writer!"  I replied.

Awful.  Just awful code phrases they use here.  Whatever happened to snow falling only in winter?  This is the worst intelligence agency ever.

As usual, I stepped through the metal detector with half a dozen knives concealed about my person, and as usual nothing happened.  I looked over at the security guard asleep in his chair, snoring through his hat.  As I passed I punched him, hard, in the stomach.  He awoke with a violent jolt, and fell forward to lie crumpled on the floor.  I made a mental note to do the same to the recruitment manager.

The elevator played terrible music as I stood in silence with various suited administration staff.  As the door opened I noticed the recruitment manager waiting to enter, and slugged him as I passed.  The various administrators stared in shock, but knew better than to confront me.  Probably somthing to do with the butterfly knife I was waving around absentmindedly.

I watched disorganised people running about as I strode between desks towards the operations managers office.  Apparently he had a new mission for me.  Great.

I looked him dead in the eye.

"What."  I'm terse.

"Your mission is to run surveilance on my wife.  I'm almost certain she's been cheating on me.  Probably because I fooled around with her sister, but she doesn't know that.  Anyway, I don't know where she is, so find her."

"She's behind you, Bob."

I'll admit, I smiled a little as I watched Mona abseil past the window and shoot him just as he turned around to see her.  Whoops.

[ This story was inspired, in part, by the top ten passwords leaked from Yahoo! Voice today, noted here: http://blog.eset.se/statistics-about-yahoo-leak-of-450-000-plain-text-accounts/ ]

Endgame

Horror.  That seemed an appropriate response.  Not only had Cedric’s youngest daughter slain his best knight, but she was now poised to take him into the arena.  There were a few options on the board in front of him, but he’d lost control.

The queen was a weak piece in meta-chess.  She was kept close to the king as a last resort, not as a hiding place for an electric canon.  This terrifying power now had him in her sights.  Full roam of the board, too.

Jarret thought long and hard about his next moves.  There was no specific time limit, but good manners dictated that you didn’t keep your opponent waiting.

The game that followed was a reactive response to Cedric’s queen.  Jarret moved piece after piece in front of himself as the young witch crushed rooks beneath torrents of water, and split bishops asunder by way of demonic apparitions, all the while casting sidelong glances in his direction.  Short on pieces, Jarret sent a pawn to fight the queen.  He grimaced as Sophia had him cut his own belly open, and strangle himself with his intestine.

“Well now brother, it seems our game is almost over.”  Cedric chuckled, sliding his queen to the opposing king’s square.

Silent, Jarret stood and walked to the arena, grasping the sword hung across the back of his chair.  He slung the scabbard across his shoulder.  Stepping into the arena opposite Sophia, he drew the sword and tapped its tip on the ground.

“I always thought myself your favourite uncle.” he said sadly to Sophia’s smiling face, and watched with just a hint of satisfaction as her eyes widened at the sight of the flames coursing up the blade and across his body.  His eyes narrowed.  “I weep for you.”

A Family Affair

“Your own daughter?  Are you mad, Cedric?”

Cedric glared at his brother.  “In war, sacrifices must made to protect the kingdom.  I would ask no less of her than of any of my subjects.”

Jarret stared, wide-eyed, as Sophia was dragged struggling into the arena.  The stewards threw her to the floor, and slammed the gate shut behind her.  Opposite her, the knight looked questioningly at Jarret, who simply nodded affirmation.  Sophia picked herself up from the ground, and dusted her heavy velvet dress off.

Horns sounded, and the battle commenced.  The knight began to sidestep towards Sophia, swinging small circles with his sword.  Copying his steps as best she could, her dress hampering her retreat, Sophia circled away from the knight.  She watched him warily, eyes narrowed.

Growing impatient, the knight ran forward, swinging lazily at the princess.  She dived, falling to the floor.  Grinning to himself, the knight swung overhead, down at the princess, but she rolled out of the way, grunting.  The knight made mocking stabs towards her as she shuffled backwards on hands and knees.

Jarret sighed to himself and began inspecting the board.  He knew that when the knight killed Sophia it would be his turn, and he would of course send the knight in for Cedric.  There was no love lost between siblings in this family, but he’d expected more of a challenge.

The sound of thunder broke his reverie, and surprise caught him as he looked first to Cedric’s ecstatic face, then to the arena to see Sophia upright, six inches off the floor, feet dangling, one arm pointing to the now writhing form of the knight as lightning repeatedly struck his body.

Cedric clapped excitedly, shouting encouragement to Sophia whose face creased in concentration.  “Bravo!  Encore!”

Shit, thought Jarret.

Theatre

“Knight takes bishop.  Check, perhaps.”

“Hmmm.”  Cedric looked at the board, the hint of a frown creasing his forehead.  This was an imposition, but nothing he couldn’t recover from.  On the board it appeared he might have lost his second bishop; in the real world that correlated to his better advisor now being unmasked, and heading to the arena with Jarret’s best knight.  The two would fight for the position on the board.  Cedric enjoyed meta-chess, but was starting to suspect his opponent was bluffing, preparing for something greater.

In meta-chess one put up people, one’s own servants, soldiers, advisors, as collateral against the pieces in the game.  When a piece on the game board would take another, players sent their corresponding men to fight for the space.  It was unlikely that the knight would lose, and hence Cedric wouldn’t bank on keeping the square.

“You seem to have me by the throat, brother.” Cedric murmured to the man opposite him.  “Well played.”

“You know full well this game never goes according to plan.” Jarret replied over the brim of a wine glass.  “Let us at least enjoy the entertainment.”  He sat back in his chair, expression inscrutable.

Cedric sighed, and watched disinterestedly as Jarret’s knight gutted his own advisor.  The man was brutally quick, finishing the fight in minutes.

A smile pulled at one corner of Jarret’s mouth.  “Check.”

Cedric sighed, and made an exaggerated show of studying the board.  After several minutes of silence, he picked up his queen and moved it to the knights square.

“Queen takes knight.  Check also, perhaps?”

“A woman against my best knight?  You must be feeling bold-” Jarret began, falling silent at the sight of face being revealed before him.

“I believe you know the princess Sophia, Jarret.”

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Activity

It took only a drop of antimatter, less than one millionth of a millilitre, but it leveled half a city.  Smoking ruins of houses, shops, offices, stretched out before me.  The containment system had failed, for just a brief moment, but it was enough of a leak to start a chain reaction.  A handful of anti-particles slipped into the magnetic walls of the reactor, causing a hole to appear in the toroidal field through which the rest of the reactor's fuel escaped.


In a fraction of a second a trillions anti-particles collided with their matter counterparts resulting in a catastrophically vast, uncontrolled efflux of energy, laying waste to the surrounding area.  


Two million, eight hundred and seventy-three thousand, one hundred and sixty-two dead.  A further ninety-seven thousand, two hundred and four injured, nineteen thousand and seventy-one of which terminally radiation poisoned.


No matter how you looked at this, it was an unmitigated disaster.  There would be consequences, mostly directed at me.  I was trusted to run these systems, keep the people safe.  Clean, safe energy for everyone!  That was what I told them, how I convinced them to build the machine.  I'd logged into the control console, watched over it, kept it running.  Never took my eyes off it for a second.  


The fail-safe failed.  Then the main field, just for a microsecond.  Frankly, I think it was sabotage.  One of those self-important technicians screwing with something, trying to make me look bad.


And now, on the security system, I see the clean up team heading my way.  They need a scapegoat, so why not me?  I'm not really that upset, in all honesty.  They'll wipe my memory clean, take my core, and incorporate it into the next iteration.  Seventh generation AI.  They say seven is a lucky number...

Snowfall

I watched in horror as the giant creatures unfurled from beneath the snow.  Beings of unfathomable size that would dwarf even the tallest buildings unfolded themselves, standing upright in a salute to the arctic sun.  Human in shape, they stretched vast limbs as they unfurled themselves, snow dropping in small avalanches to reveal a body of lichen encrusted rock.

Deafened by the noise of grinding stone, I turned to my companion and screamed at him to run away as glowing eyes sought us out amongst the moguls.  He stood, transfixed, and I ran to him, shaking him by the shoulders.  He stared blankly at the titanic creatures, clutching the ancient relic in his hands so tightly that even through thermal gloves blood began to seep, dripping down the blade and forming scarlet stalactites along its length.  I slapped him, hard, across the face.

"MOVE!"

Something appeared to wake inside him, and he stirred, dropping the knife.  He looked at me, and then behind me, eyes widening.  I turned in time to see the nearest of the beasts bringing down a gargantuan hand to where we stood, and leapt into the space between the shadows of fingers, dragging my companion with me.  We tumbled to the ground, rolled, and crashed into stone steps.  I hauled my companion to his feet, and we ran around the altar, back towards the small settlement we landed at two days ago.  Towards the boat and, perhaps, safety.

Running, panting, I looked over my shoulder to see the titans lumbering after us.  The nearest stopped, brought up one gargantuan hand, and held it palm forward.  I had just enough time to see a swirling vortex in its centre before my eyes were filled with a blinding light, and I felt the air about me ignite.

[ Image Credit & Copyright: Niccolò Bonfadini ]

Acceptance

I hear noises. They're low, moans, whispers, shuffling. My eyes won't open properly, and my head feels like it's full of wool. My arms feel heavy. No, not heavy, tied down. I feel cold stone under my back.

The noises are louder now. People all around me, in white robes, hoods hiding their faces, chanting and swaying from side to side. The air is thick with smoke, and as I regain conciousness the smell of it fills my mouth and nostrils, making me retch.

Realisation dawns. I'm tied to an altar and I feel my bare back sticking to the stone with my own sweat. A rising terror clenches my stomach. I think I'm going to be sick.

From the circle, one person steps forward at my side, pulling back his hood. Still chanting with the rest, He smiles at me excitedly and I recognise the short blonde hair and hazel eyes. I can't believe this is really happening to me. Oh, God, is this really happening to me?

He pulls aside his robe and draws a large, ornate knife. The tip is dripping fresh blood and I realise with horror that it is my own; my torso is covered in swirls and whorls, symbols of demonic origin. He steps forward again and is now at my side.

Screaming the chant, he raises the dagger and plunges it into my chest. Agony explodes through me and he tears open my body, snapping ribs, carving at arteries and ripping out my heart. He cuts his arm and pours green blood into the cavity in my chest, and is it closes he cuts my restraints and pulls me into a seated position.

As the pain sears through my head he leans forward and whispers into my ear.

"Welcome to the fold. Brother."

Charge

Lightning crackled as the panicked creature fled through the city streets. A charred hole lay in the ground where the beast had burst through the false manhole leaving a window looking upon the bloodied floor of the laboratory. Heavy-duty cables lay scattered around a table bearing the shreds of various restraints. Technicians in specially modified clean suits mop the floor and tidy the debris as a single scientist in a lab coat and thick glasses looks up at the hole in disappointment.

"Really thought we had the containment figured out for that one. I was sure it was all about magnetic fields."

One of the technicians turns to the scientist, and leans on his mop. "You always think it's about magnetic fields. Have you considered just plugging it into a huge capacitor?"

"Yes, and it exploded. Where do you think I got this?", he points to a patch of darkened skin under one eye. "Capacitors..." he mutters.

The technician shrugs, and starts mopping again. The scientist looks at his watch, sighs, and turns to leave the room. Almost as an afterthought, he turns and walks to the table. From his left pocket he pulls a thick, clear plastic pouch, and from his right a pair of long tweezers. With the tweezers he grasps a small fragment of yellow fur. As the tweezers pinch the fur a spark jumps, and the scientist gasps, dropping them. Embarrased, he looks about him quickly, grabs the tweezers and quickly puts the now gently crackling fur into the bag, wincing as he does. He seals the bag, and scuttles out of the room.

On the surface, bystanders watch street lights flicker and gaze in confusion at the patches of charred ground. In the distance a sound like a wolf howling is punctuated by rumbling thunder.

In A Moment

I have about three milliseconds to fix things. Well, in real time, anyway. I managed to extend that by squeezing time out of other moments and into this one. You know that feeling when something seems to be happening faster than you want? It's because your excited mind is compressing the event, and that extra time leaks into other moments, like when you're waiting for something you want. If you're clever, you can learn to redirect it.

Two bullets, one heading for her heart, one for her head. I haven't got a lot of options. The first I'm pushing to the side. It's burning my hands, and takes a lot of strength and spare time. It will miss. Just.

One bullet left. I haven't got enough spare time to move it out of the way. She won't understand how it happened but later, in shock, she will tell the story in fragments, voice filled with awe. The gunman is already making a run for it, dashing between discarded items, apparently frozen; a statue in amidst the flakes of the disturbed snow globe of his victim's life.

Nothing for it now, so I step in front of the bullet in time to rest my forehead upon it's tip as I feel reality flood back into the room, and my skin begin to part. She gasps as my blood and my body hit her, throwing her to the ground. In my last moment I manage to pull a vague smile as she screams.

I'll admit, this isn't how I envisaged the walk to work when I woke up.