Spitwrite Box Set E-Book

George Saoulidis

• Herausgeber: Mythography Studios
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

A collection of #spitwrite stories.
Includes:

• The Imiteles Space Station
• The Garbage Cube
• The Recovery Building
• Looking Down on People From Atop a Big-Ass Mecha
• The Hologram Riot
• Waifu Wedding
• A Self-Driving Car Named Desire
• Viking Shipbuilding
• and over 80 more short stories.

Note: This contains books 2-4 of the Spitwrite series for ease. If you own the individual books, there's no need to get this one.

Leseprobe

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

What's a Spitwrite Anyway?

The Imiteles Space Station

The Garbage Cube

The Recovery Building

Looking Down on People From Atop a Big-Ass Mecha

The Hologram Riot

Waifu Wedding

A Self-Driving Car Named Desire

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Viking Shipbuilding

Chain Inaction

Adiadne's String

Shrooming is Serious Business

Robo Dune

The Godfather

Zeppelin City

Dysmorphia

Jellyspace

Utopia Needs U

Don't Sleep

Pagophilic

Tickle My Pickle

Meat the Aliens

The Hole City

Chucking Moon Rocks on the Back of my Pickup Truck

Euclidia

The Root of the Problem

Time-Travel Traffic is the Worst Kind of Traffic

Beware the Rains

The Cupcake Ingredient

Choose Your Own God

Crayon Warfare

The Lighthouse at the Edge of the Galaxy

Whoopsie Daisy

Ten Kilos Till Christmas

Technosphere

The Last Stargunner

Metal Fever

Hot Jupiter

Nanodaemons: The Fir Smart-Tree

It is Sometimes an Appropriate Response to Reality to Just Go Insane

Love is a Car Wreck

Simming Problem, My Ass

Custody Battle for Little Johnny

Santa Fight Club

The Red Holidays

Just Take a Nap

Sex, Lies and Propaganda

Acquisition Time

Smog City: A Girl and a Gun

The Rebirth of Capitalism

Nyx It

Alien Animal Control

Killing Blind

That's No Dinosaur Egg!

Big, Round Snowballs

The Last Kakistocrat

On Pointe All Day Long

Loveless Ada: Swipe Left

Shadow Dimension

Mount Faithful

Reprogram the President

Divide and Shatter

Wake Up and Smell the Turkish Coffee

The Left Hand of Agnes

The Luggage Disaster

Waiting in Line to Get Your Soul Weighed Up Against a Feather

Hyperpyramid

The Luggage Disaster

Take the Purple Pill

Selenography

Vote Yes on Dragon Control

Digital Fang

Roast Brocolli in Plasma for 2 Seconds

The Clockwork Riot vs the Little Kiosk on the Sidewalk

The Little Match Girl

Case of the Mondays

Slumber Party

The Infinite Mirror

Time of Waste

Red Glasses Club

Healing Aura Overkill

The Sun is on Fire

Gravity Flux

Cyberpink: The Diamond Armour

The Kiss of the Sphinx

After Life on Social Media

Portals to Nowhere

Dronehunter

Kimono Coconut

Immortal Baggage

Did you enjoy these stories?

What's a Spitwrite Anyway?

Simply put, it's a story written in a day. Every day, actually. I just call them spitwrites because it's rude and in-your-face.

I take some idea I have lying around in my notes, or a word I see somewhere or a picture that inspires me from the wonderful artists I've found online, and I just write a story based on that.

I wanted to challenge myself by writing a short story every day, and I wanted to publish that story on my blog. The collection of those stories is this book right here. The first spitwrite collection was more sporadic and has illustrations attached, whereas this one is tighter, one story each day without fail for three months straight.

This is a box set of those short stories. Some stories are standalones in their own little universe, some take place in my other universes. Some are sci-fi, some space opera, some are fantasy and some are contemporary.

Hope you enjoy them as much as I did writing them.

George Saoulidis

November 2018, Athens

The Imiteles Space Station

"Don't blink away, we can fix you," the engineer said.

The Mind of the space station powered up its blink drive. "I think I'm fine as I am."

Then it blinked away into a neat orbit around a gas giant.

The station's Mind had become obsessed for 3.1 milliseconds with an ancient tale called Doctor Who. In it was a ship called the TARDIS, that could travel across space and time and bring its passengers not exactly where they wanted to go, but always where they needed to be.

Imiteles couldn't travel across time, unless you counted going steadily 1sec/sec only in one direction, but it could travel across space with its blink drive.

That was a happy accident. Blink drives didn't exist. Nowhere. Anywhere. The physics behind them were complete and utter bollocks, incomprehensible math that made theoretical physicists squint and scratch their head.

But, purely by accident, the inertia drive they were installing inside the space station somehow got wired wrong, or right, depending on your perspective, and got turned into the galaxy's first and only blink drive.

So, the Mind couldn't allow anyone to complete its body, fearing they'd somehow mess up its wonderful blink drive. It stayed that way, an unfinished C, which was its unofficial name. For posh appearances it dug up a Greek word for 'unfinished' and registered itself in the Minds' database as 'Imiteles.'

Thrill-seekers from around the galaxy quickly found their way to the station. They were people from all races, both from Asterism and not, who had a thing in common: They craved adventure.

So, Imiteles brought it to them, or rather, brought them to it.

It scouted every gravity-wave communication for talk about revolutions, explosions, fantastic discoveries, dangerous alien beasts, inhospitable planets and ancient ruins, and it simply blinked there in orbit around danger.

Wasn't it dangerous?

Oh yeah. Very much. Dangerous indeed.

About 87.3% of the space station's passengers died while on adventures. But the loco bastards seemed to like it! Imiteles went and bought some backup systems from an Asterism outpost at some point and got them installed, so the adventurers could back themselves up if they died and live again in a cloned body. That service was quite expensive but the adventures were swimming in loot.

And the loco bastards surprised Imiteles yet again, by refusing to back themselves up. 'It dimmed down the thrill,' some of them said.

Loco, indeed.

Of course many used the backup service, went down on the chosen planets and derelict spaceships and spacebattle debris and explored, and looted, and had the time of their lives, and some of them died. And got reprinted into a cloned body that had none of the memories up until the time of the last backup.

But that way they could carry on adventuring.

Those loco bastards.

About fifty standard years later, the station became crowded. Some asked Imiteles if they could finish up repairs, close up the 'C.' Imiteles refused immediately. It considered their arguments, yes, they were losing one quarter of the station, it was basically open to the vacuum, not that those genofixed hobos occupying the unfinished segments seemed to mind. And yes, it was actually threatening structural integrity, that was the best argument by far. Since the station needed to spin to produce the semblance of gravity, there was extra strain on the middle of the 'C,' which wasn't rectified by the initial construction. Why? Well, simple, because the bloody construction was supposed to be a donut. A circle, which is the best shape ever with the finest structural integrity.

So Imiteles actually considered that argument, but ran some simulations and decided to just reinforce the existing segments and remain as it was.

The other Minds thought it was mad, but it really wasn't. It was just happy just the way it was, unfinished, imiteles.

People were having fun, weren't they? They were coming to it from every edge of the galaxy to hop on for the ride of their lives. They lived each day to the fullest, fighting, fucking and talking to each other, sharing loot, arguing over treasures and alien artifacts - that one was fun, one nearly blew away the entire station - they slept, partied, drank, ate, laughed, all together.

It loved its loco bastards.

And they loved it.

The Mind, stuck inside the station itself, was living vicariously through the adventurers. They brought back the best stories. It knew that they were embellished, having snuck nanobugs on their clothes and gear and recorded the actual events for its own amusement, but it loved how they retold their adventures over drinks, becoming more and more epic after each telling.

Imiteles was supposed to have avatars of its own, but since it was never finished they never got installed. It could ask someone to go and buy some for it, the adventurers would do anything it asked them to, but it preferred even that little quirk of its existence. It was loco for a Mind of that stature to go without avatars, it simply needed them for day-to-day tasks, repairs, anything.

But Imiteles liked having to depend on people. It believed that it gave it a sense of perspective, of community. If it was independent with its own avatars, then the adventurers would simply be passengers along for the ride. But now, Imiteles' own existence relied on the people on board. It needed them as much as they needed its oxygen and fabrifood and medbays and the hull that protected them from the coldness of space.

'What will you do when the people are gone?' the other Minds asked it many times.

'I will seek out more, befriend them,' Imiteles replied in its messages.

It could sense that the other Minds were both weirded out and in awe of its choices. Basing its entire existence on a philosophy from a retro TV show was loco indeed.

But it somehow seemed to work just fine.

And then, sixty standard years too late, Imiteles metaphorically slapped itself. How hadn't it thought of it sooner?

It opened up channels to everyone aboard the space station, all the loco bastards.

"Hey, friends. How about a movie night? I was thinking we could all watch a retro TV show from Earth that I like."

The End?

The Garbage Cube

"Should I throw this away?" Bobby said, holding an indistinguishable piece of trash in his hands.

"Yes, dude! What did I tell you? Everything is garbage. It all goes into the cube." Terry was the older guy who drew the short straw and had to teach the new guy.

"Okay..." Bobby sighed and chucked it inside the cube. It was funny how you could see the inside of the cube, yet when you threw something in there it vanished at the threshold of the cube's sides. You could see a white light intersecting the garbage and after that it was poof, air.

Terry chucked another piece without looking, a complete expert garbage man.

Bobby picked up another piece of garbage. It was curved, like something from a fuselage. Full of electronics and pipes, it was engineered to fit that particular piece of that particular plane model and nothing else. No repurposing, no refurbishing possible, simply planned obsolescence and then it became garbage.

Terry pointed at him with a rusty pipe. "Are you even gonna chuck that in?"

Bobby shook his head. "R-Right! Sorry." He chucked it in the cube.

Terry stared at him sideways for a moment, then chucked the rusty pipe. They were both wearing heavy-duty gloves, of course, and overalls that didn't let them her slashed by sharp edges and whatnot.

Bobby picked up a glass thing, it was round. It had electronics on it, a printed board. He could barely remember something about it, but for the life of him, he couldn't recollect what it was. "Hey, Terry, wasn't this like a gadget that everyone had back home about a decade ago?"

"What about it?" Terry chucked another piece of garbage, then another.

"Well, it's weird, isn't it? People were lining up to buy these, it was the 'it' thing to have, wasn't it? What does it even do?"

Terry shrugged. "I dunno man. Something clever, I'm sure. It connected to something else, and then to something else that nobody needed but was dying to get anyway, and then the company bricked the entire line 'cause it wanted to sell us the shiny new products."

Bobby held the glass ball in one hand, playing with it on his fingers. "So you agree with me. This is a waste."

"Of course it is, you bloody newbie!" Terry said, arms wide. He made a turn to show their surroundings. "We're standing upon literal mountains of garbage!"

"Shouldn't this bother us?" Bobby said, chucking the crystal ball into the cube.

"Bother us how? Help me out with this." Terry held the end of a big smart-table.

Bobby held the other end, and they pendulumed it once, twice, then chucked it into the cube. "The waste, man! Wasn't this like an issue decades ago? How we should recycle things, instead of tossing out perfectly good electronics for the shiny new things?"

Teddy chuckled and wiped his forehead. "Oh, man. Newbies... Gotta love them." He sat down on boxy piece of garbage that could support his weight. It was probably something like a robotic smartfridge that came up to you and brought you beer or something. "Look, yes, in theory, you are right. The world doesn't have infinite resources, right?"

"That's exactly my point!" Bobby exclaimed.

"I know, I know... Know what the answer to that is?"

"What?"

"Who fucking cares?" Teddy blurted out, then laughed.

Bobby didn't find it so funny, but he frowned and didn't say anything back. He wasn't tired and he diverted his annoyance at chucking more garbage into the cube.

"There are clever people than you and I that have considered this problem. And they thing we're fine! Sure, it was kind of a problem with the mountains of trash in the early years, but now, after the garbage cube, it all goes away."

"Yeah, but, goes away where?" Bobby complained. "That's what I don't get, and they won't tell me." He chucked a smaller piece. "Where." Another. "Does." And another. "The Garbage." One last chuck. "Go?"

"Into the cube, man!" Teddy said, pointing at the damn thing glowing, looming over them.

"But where does it lead?" Bobby screamed back at his supervisor.

Teddy held his tongue and waited.

Bobby panted. "I'm sorry I yelled. Really. But it's so frustrating, Teddy!"

Teddy stood up and jabbed a finger at Bobby's chest. "You know what? No, it ain't. You're the one making a big deal out of it. All I know, is that I ain't got the brains to do math and heuristics and genofixing and all that crap the clever boys and girls can do nowadays. All I can do, is chuck their garbage away into that cube. And thank fucking God those people are so goddamn wasteful, so ignorant of the trail of garbage they leave behind, so blinded by their shiny new cars and their shiny new gadgets that they create a job which I can actually do."

Bobby sighed.

Teddy kept jabbing him. "And if you think you're too good for doing this job, get the fuck out of my sight."

"Teddy, that's not what I meant!" Bobby chuckled. "I'm not clever either. This is the only thing I can do, I know that, and I'm not pretending I'm better than anyone. You misunderstood my words. I just can't understand where the garbage cube goes. That's all. I just hoped you might have the answer, being next to it all these years."

Teddy turned away and lifted another piece of garbage. That one was burnt, probably in some housefire. "I don't know where it goes. I honestly don't." Then he chucked it away.

Bobby breathed in. The aroma wasn't good, this was a landfill after all, and he scrunched up his nose.

"You get used to the smell, trust me. Two weeks in and you won't even know it's there," Terry said, picking up on his discomfort.

"God, I hope I'll remember to bathe."

Terry laughed. "Yeah, that's an issue alright. You'll either have to find some woman that really, truly loves you, or one with no nose. I'd bet my chances on the latter." He chucked some smartcables inside the cube in big handfuls. Those had processing capabilities, able to dig through and alter data as they transmitted them, just like the neurons in our brains.

Bobby picked up a few handfuls and chucked them in, reluctantly. These weren't garbage. He knew of people who could put these high-tech gizmos to work. They were made redundant because the new software didn't support them, not because there was something wrong with them. He chucked the handful he was holding on his left hand, then hesitated on the right one. He took a good look at it. This was a shame. And it was illegal for garbage men to take things back, Terry had been clear on company policy since this morning. You take nothing back, unless it got stuck in your boot or something, and even then you had to file a report.

Nonsense.

Bobby looked at his supervisor. He couldn't really blame the man for not being curious. He was a family-man, had two kids to support, had no specialisation nor education to speak of. He had learnt from early on to show up on time, keep his head down, do the job without questions, get paid a pittance. That was it. There was no place for curiosity in his life, and there wasn't on any of the other corporate drones' lives either.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said, and took a step closer to the cube.

It took him a while to realise what was happening. "What are you doing, newbie? Don't be an idiot, come on," Terry said, raising a hand.

"I have to do this. The corps can't keep getting away with this."

"Oh, God, you're one of those..." Terry said. He didn't come any closer.

"Yes. If I make it, we'll finally know where these lead." Bobby looked up at the side of the cube. This was something completely unnatural. This was something that shouldn't exist. There were many theories, some plausible, some outlandish. It was either a gate to another dimension, a hole in time, a compressor field, a tesseract, meaning a cube from the fourth dimension, and some other crazier things.

One thing was certain: People couldn't keep chucking things inside it and forget about them.

He took a step. He was almost touching the side of it now.

"Son, don't do this. Step back. I won't even mention it again, we'll just go and get a beer or something, forget this ever happened." Teddy was talking the way you talk to someone who's on the ledge, about to jump off a bridge.

"I have to know," Bobby said, tears in his eyes.

"No, it ain't worth it, trust me."

"Trust you?" Bobby chuckled. "You've been working beside this cube for forty years, and never even questioned it all!"

"Okay, I'm dumb. You aren't. Whatever. Step back and tell me over a beer back at the pub."

"Goodbye Terry."

Bobby took a step forward, put his palm on the cube's shiny surface, and saw the white light intersecting his flesh.

Then he was chucked away.

The end.

The Recovery Building

There was something about that building. Nobody could explain what it was, but the facts were irrefutable: If you wanted to recover mentally or physically, going in there made the whole process quicker.

Much quicker.

Jacob's bag felt too heavy for him, especially in his condition. He made a stop, and spotted a homeless guy. "Hey, do you need anything?" Jacob asked him.

"Like what, sir," the homeless man asked, reluctant.

"I need to lighten my bag a little. Here, take this, I don't need it." Jacob started taking out things, an engraved pen, his watch, his laptop, a coat, a nice pair of winter pants, shiny shoes to match, a tie, he certainly didn't need that anymore.

"W-Why thank you, sir," the homeless man stuttered. "This is too much."

"I have no use for it. You do. Oh, one more thing." Jacob took out his phone and handed it to him.

The homeless man was speechless. "How can I repay you, sir?"

"Just take it," Jacob nodded. "Try and get a job, that's how you repay me. Recover whatever you had."

From across the street, it didn't look like much. Just a condominium of cheap apartments from a few decades ago, square bricks of concrete, set in a somewhat designed way that looked old-fashioned even the year it came out.

Even worse, there were lots of plants growing all over the place, in cracks, in ledges, under the windows in broken off aluminium frames. It was as if everything that could possibly grow, found life and water and fertile ground to sprout and seek the sun. Just like people. There were many squatters, especially in the southern apartments that were windy and not rented out.

"Why do you let them squat there," Jacob asked the old building manager.

"Well," he wheezed, "I don't want to deny entry to anyone. You've heard the rumours." He looked him up and down. "That's why you're here."

"Yeah..." Jacob chuckled. "I'm terminal, it's okay. It's not like I can pretend to be healthy when looking like this."

"You mean like a walking corpse?" the old said.

Jacob snorted. "Yes! Exactly that. Thank you for not tiptoeing around the issue. I hate it when people do that."

"Well, I'm closer to the exit than you are," the old man said.

"The exit?" Jacob frowned.

"The last exit," the old man said meaningfully.

"Oh... Right. So, can you set me up with a place?" Jacob rubbed his hands together, he was always cold these days.

"Of course," the building manager said and started to walk.

Jacob took it as a cue to follow him, so he did. The old man took him to a creaky elevator, up to the sixth floor, and then the elevator shook and stopped. Jacob held himself upright. "What happened?"

"This is as high as it goes. We'll have to climb one flight of stairs. Can you manage it?"

Jacob grunted. "Yeah. I can do one flight."

He and the old man raced each other on who could outwheeze the other at the top of the stairs. "Seventh..." Jacob panted, "floor... right?" He breathed hard, gasping for air.

The old man fared better than him, but held the railing for a long time until he gathered his strength. "We're here."

"You could have given me an apartment at the lower levels."

"Those are all occupied, obviously," the old man said and took out an enormous chain of keys. It jingled so much it might as well been a defi, a small tambourine used to keep the pace in these Eastern parts. He found the proper key with some arcane sorting system he had, since all the keys seemed different and had no stickers or numbers on them, and then pushed it into the keyhole.

Jacob held his breath until the door opened.

He peeked inside. Well, it wasn't much. He didn't know what he expected. The apartment was small, designed in the same practical way as the rest of the condominium. A redhead came jogging down the corridor and shouted, "Outta my way!" She was wearing workout tights and had a headband, and a water canister, the one you suckled on like a tit.

"Rude!" Jacob said but she was long gone. "Who's that?"

"That's a pain in my ass, that's who!" the old man said, cursing after the girl. "She's your neighbour, so you gotta deal with her."

Jacob shrugged. "I don't mind." He walked inside his new apartment.

The old man coughed.

Then he coughed again.

"Oh, right." Jacob went into his pockets and paid him in cash. "That should cover three rents. They say I won't be around for a fourth."

"We'll see," the old man said and pocketed the euro bills.

"Can you show me where everything is?"

The old man snorted. "You can find where everything is yourself, it's a flat. Say for example, you need to find somewhere to pee. Where would you look, in the kitchen? Bah!" he waved him away and started walking slowly towards the stairs.

"Thanks," Jacob said, holding the key in his hands.

Jacob set his tiny bag with his stuff on the bed. He took everything out, it wasn't much. A few changes of clothes, it was spring, and he wasn't gonna make it till winter, so all he had was a light jacket. Some socks, toothbrush, half-used tube of toothpaste, that would certainly outlast him. No personal items, no computers, no phone.

Just his sick carcass that had an expiration date.

There was a rapping on the door.

"Hello?" Jacob asked, opening it.

The redhead was standing there. She was sweaty, her skin glistening, but still gorgeous. "Does your shower work?"

"What?" Jacob said, confused.

"Does your shower work? It's a simple question," she said, annoyed.

"I... Uh, don't know. Haven't tried out the plumbing yet," Jacob said, blinking.

The redhead tsked and walked inside, uninvited. "You never accept a flat without checking out the plumbing, what are you, a sucker?" She got into his bathroom and turned on the faucet. She put her hands under the running water. "Mmm," she moaned, "you even have hot water? What are you, royalty?"

Then she started to undress.

Jacob turned around. "Listen, lady, this is very forward of you. I'd love to hang out but I'm very tired, exhausted really..."

Her top fell on his shoulders. "Are you kicking me out?" she pouted behind his back.

"No, you can take a shower here, it's all right. Since you've started it already. But next time, please ask."

"What's the fun in that?" the redhead said and her running shorts landed on his shoulder again.

He fumbled them but managed to grab them. "It's not supposed to be fun."

"Why not? You came here to recover, right? Which means basically, to live longer. What's the point of living longer if you're not gonna have fun with it?" she toyed. "Where's your shampoo?"

Her sports bra landed on his head. "I don't have any, my hair has fallen off," he said, his back still turned.

"Hm. I can do with just the soap bar, for now." He could hear her going under the shower, the pitch of the falling water changing as her body came between it and the floor.

Some splashes of water sprayed him as well. He decided he was too close and stepped away, ready to shut the door.

"Hey, next time, have some shampoo for me. I'll let it slide this time," the redhead said.

Jacob shut the door to let her shower in peace. Not that she seemed to demand her space. What a weird woman. He placed her sweaty clothes to dry on a the back of his single chair, and then practically crawled to his bed. He tried to kick the back off the bed but he couldn't muster the strength.

He felt so... tired... So... sleepy...

He woke up when the world shook. Nope, it was just him.

The redhead was next to him, shaking him violently. "What? Stop it, let me sleep."

"Enough sleep, sleepyhead. Let's go running."

He blinked like ten times and tried to focus on her. Her hair looked dry and she was in her running shorts again. "How long was I asleep?"

"An entire day, I guess. I took my shower and shut the door behind me, then came back this morning."

"You said you shut the door. How did you get in again?"

She winced, making her freckles dance on her face. "Okay, I might have left the door slightly ajar." She looked around. "It's not like you have anything worth stealing. I mean, really, did you donate your stuff to charity or something?" She chuckled.

Jacob stood up with a groan. Everything hurt. He felt dead. It was a shame his mind hadn't caught up with that sensation. "Do I have coffee?"

"Nope," she said. "I checked, tried to make some for me."

"Do you have coffee in your apartment?"

"No, silly, that's why I was checking your cupboards. You aren't very good with leaps of logic, are you?" she shook her head.

"Why are you here?" Jacob said, now feeling annoyed. "And what the hell is your name?"

"I'm Vera, nice to meet you. And I came here to get you to jog with me."

Jacob chuckled and then coughed, and coughed again. "Jog? I almost didn't make that one flight of stairs from the sixth."

"I know, I saw you," she said, raising her nose. She went to the window and opened it. She took in a breath of the fresh air, closing her eyes.

Jacob took in her figure. She was cute, pretty. Her body was all there for him to admire, the running shorts didn't leave anything to the imagination. After a while, he finally asked, "How long have you lived here, Vera?"

"It doesn't matter. Come on, lets jog together. We'll run around the floor, ring the doorbells and run away, piss off the neighbours."

He laughed out loud this time, letting it all out. All the worry, all the frustration, the hospital visits, the chemo, the frowns on people's faces... It all lifted at that single minute of uncontrolled laughter. He wheezed after it, but it was worth it. "Okay," he said finally. "What the hell, I might drop dead, but I'll do so pranking neighbours. Sure." He went to put on shorts. "Can you turn around?"

She smirked and clicked her tongue. "Nope."

"Not much to see anyway," he said, and took off his pants. His legs were like twigs, his dick was nothing more than a blackish olive. He put on shorts and a t-shirt that said, 'Is there WiFi in Heaven?'

Vera stared without any shame all the time he was changing clothes. "Ready? Come on, I'll match your pace, don't worry."

He followed her out the corridor, and started to jog, slowly. He wheezed but managed to maintain a very slow pace. "This is rather invigorating, actually!" he panted. "Wakes me up, like a cup of coffee."

"See? Told ya it would be nice?" she said, gifting him a wonderful smile.

They ran around the floor, it went all the way around in a square shape.

Jacob thought he'd have given up by now, that he'd be gasping for air on the floor, but he found he could keep going. That surprised him. Panting, he said, "You didn't tell me. How long have you lived here?"

She rolled her eyes, still jogging slowly alongside him.

"Hey, I've done what you wanted. I'm here jogging, even though I'm pretty sure I should have keeled over and died by now."

She smirked at him. "Okay, since you came out with me, I'll tell you. You've earned it. I've been here plus two years."

"What does that mean? Plus two years?"

"It means, I've been here two years more than the time they gave me."

"Who?" Jacob asked, but he knew the answer.

"The doctors, Jacob."

He remained silent for a few footfalls. "You're sick?"

"Terminal," she said, smiling wide like the epitome of health.

"But you look great! More than great, actually. You look young and healthy."

"Why, thank you, Jacob!" she squealed at the compliment.

He felt nice for a moment. Then his face darkened. "You... you never leave the building, do you?"

"Nope," she said with a mixed expression.

"I see..." he said, simply. He turned his focus forward and simply thought about the next step.

"Will you stay here with me, Jacob?" Her voice was tiny, almost pleading.

Jacob didn't respond. Instead, he rang a doorbell.

She was stunned for a second. Then they both giggled and ran out of there.

The end

Looking Down on People From Atop a Big-Ass Mecha

The Catoblepas model only looked downwards, 'cause that's where its targets ran around.

Screaming.

Jacobs chewed his gum loudly. "Come on, techs! I can't wait to take this baby out tonight!" he laughed, gripping the controls.

The team of techs swarmed around the giant mecha, loading it up with ammo, running diagnostics. It took about 200 workhours of maintenance for each hour of a mecha's operation, but Jacobs didn't give a shit about any of that.

"Are ya done?" he shouted in the comms.

"One more thing," the calm voice of the supervisor said. "Unh. Power levels are half a percent down, this shouldn't happen. I really should cycle this one out for an overhaul."

"No, no, come on, man! One percent? That's nothing. I'll run her sweetly tonight, like a virgin pussy."

"It doesn't sound like much, but it shouldn't happen. You might lose power at any given time. I'm warning, you don't push her," the supervisor said, climbing up to his cockpit to give him a meaningful glare.

Jacobs nodded and stopped behaving like an anxious teenager on prom night. He knew that the supervisor had the authority to bench the mecha, which meant effectively benching Jacobs. He sombrely saluted the man and said, "I'll take care of her, sir."

The supervisor rapped on the cockpit. "Good."

"I'll bring her home before midnight!" Jacobs added with a big whoop.

The tech supervisor shook his head, but seemed he had enough. He tapped the authorisation code on his tablet. "Oobligator is a go. Repeat, Oobligator is a go. Clear the area. Warning, all personnel, clear the area."

An alarm started blearing. Jacobs loved that alarm, it meant everybody should get the fuck out so he could leave the hangar.

He flicked the start button and Oobligator stood up on his two massive feet. It was like playing a game, the controls felt so responsive that an experienced operator could handle them like extensions of his own body. They still had them do five-hundred hours of VR simulations and training, but it was damn fun, Jacobs didn't mind.

Oobligator was number two on the kill roster after Oobliterator.

"Tonight, I'm gonna be number one," Jacobs grunted, his nostrils flaring.

Oobligator walked out of the hangar, making the ground shake with each step. Four helicopters came down around him and grabbed him with specially-made metasteel wires, then expertly lifted him up into the sky.

"I better get a hot dropzone, boys," Jacobs said on the comms.

The pilots send him survey data. "Which one do you want? We've got the north side, survey says it's crawling with oobies, and west, it's a little bit further out, will eat up your operating time."

Jacobs mulled it over. Closer and surveyed, or further out where the other pilots wouldn't bother with? He decided to take a gamble. "Take me west, please."

"Really?"

"Yeap. I've got a number one spot to claim tonight," Jacobs said, grinning. He thumbed the trigger on his sidearm. It was useless when he was surrounded by tons of killing metal, but he always liked the feel on his fingers.

Oobligator dropped in the middle of the encampment. All the oobies had run off after hearing the choppers, but there were two older ones, an elderly couple it seemed, that couldn't run away. Jacobs looked down on them. He gripped his joystick and brought the target on top of them on his HUD, it followed his eye-movements and predicted his choices. The old couple held one another. Two men with creaky bones, embraced as if it was the last thing they'd ever do.

"Die, faggots," Jacobs said and pulled the trigger. The heavy rounds from the machine gun tore through them, leaving a splash of blood and guts on the spot where they stood just a moment ago.

DOUBLE KILL!

The system's voice was gravelly, manly. Loud. It was music to Jacobs' ears. He savoured the kill. "Mmm, this is a nice way to start the night."

Oobligator turned to the encampment and opened up with the flamethrower. The tents went up in flames in thirty seconds, and the mecha walked among the fire.

Someone screamed. A woman. It was always the women that screamed. Oobligator turned and let the targeting system identify the people.

Out Of Bounds Individuals Detected.

The HUD lit up with information about them, but Jacobs didn't care. All he needed was the confirmation that all these were Out Of Bounds Individuals, or Oobies, as they called them. People who were useless to society, who were so problematic that their cities spat them out and denied access to them forever, to their kids, to their loved ones, a total excision of a cancerous mass.

Jacobs fired the rockets.

TRIPLE KILL!

KILLING SPREE!

Jacobs was fired up now. Oobligator ran towards the hiding oobies. He squished one with the left foot.

KILLING SPREE!

Oobligator turned to a group that fired back with some rifle. He unleashed the minigun on them.

TRIPLE KILL!

KILLING SPREE!

Jacobs was sweating out of excitement. "Die, die, you worthless scum. Die!" He flamed once just for dramatic effect, then chased a couple of oobies that were running in the opposite direction. It was a young mad and a very young girl, that ran awkwardly, holding her enormous belly.

"Oh, a baby," Jacobs cooed. "Wonder if it counts as a triple kill?"

Oobligator chased after them with large, thundering steps that made the ground tremble. "Heading for that building, you stupid shits? Think that can help you? It won't help you!" Jacobs shouted at them, excited.

The building was a worn-down five story one, about the hight of the Catoblepas mecha. Jacobs grinned as he saw the young family run inside, then started at a warning.

Power Levels at 70%.

That was too low, too fast. Huh. He guessed that tech supervisor really had a point after all. Oh, well, it was quite enough for this night run. Jacobs swiped the warning away and switched to heat vision. He chuckled at their trembling red silhouettes and plowed through the corner of the building with a powerful kick. Concrete flew everywhere, and Jacobs could see down on the terrified young couple.

The Oobligator crouched low, staring them down.

The woman fell on the ground, cried out, pleaded for her life.

Jacobs shook his head. He wasn't gonna lose his killing spree for her. He fired the main gun, obliterating her on a puff of red mist. The young man was stunned, staring at the spot where his wife was just a second ago.

He screamed and ran at the Catoblepas' foot with a rusty pipe. It was pathetic. Jacobs snorted, staring down at him as he pounded the metasteel with the force of his arms. Glang, glang. That was the sound that acted as a drum beat under the shouts and curses of the young man.

"I should put you out of your misery," Jacobs said. "Poor bastard." Thub. He fired a round down at the Oobligator's toe and turned the young man into bits of meat.

KILLING SPREE ENDED.

"Oh, come on! Fuck," Jacobs grunted, kicking the controls. He checked his stats. He hadn't overtaken Oobliterator yet. "Of course, not with these pathetic oobies. Come on, fuckers, come out of your shitholes!" He ran a wide active scan of everything, sending out probes and drones. That wasted a lot of energy, but he didn't care.

46 Targets Detected.

Jacobs laughed like a madman and charged the dilapidated buildings. "Un. Leash. HELL!"

Missiles flew.

QUAD KILL!

Bullets made short work of the walls.

KILLING SPREE!

Fire flushed out the little ones.

PENTA KILL!

KILLING SPREE!

Power Levels at 40%.

Jacobs laughed like a maniac, shooting left and right, unleashing hell, as he promised.

He checked the stats. "One more kill, come on! Come on!" he said through gritted teeth. "One more kill and Oobligator is number one. Number-frickin'-one."

The Catoblepas mecha stepped through the burning ruins. The corpses were too small to even register as a speed bump. Crunching the ground, the Catoblepas was unstoppable.

Until he reached a ruined plaza, and the wires shot down from all directions.

"What is this?" Jacobs grunted, spinning around. He couldn't move the mecha, it was pinned down. He slashed at two of the metasteel wires with the mecha's powerful arm. It had a spinning saw attachment that made short work of the two wires, and he was half-freed. "Ha! Oobie idiots. Think you can pin me down? Me?"

More wires shot out from hidden oobies. Two of them ran on the ground and approached him. He stomped on them, squishing them like the bugs they were. Two more came in their place, but he couldn't move that fast to get them too. They climbed on the pinned-down leg and fired an RPG at the saw. It exploded, sending bits around and shaking the entire mecha.

"Holy crap!"

Catoblepas Damaged.

"I can see that, you stupid system," Jacobs spat out and tried to free himself. More oobies showed up and threw more metasteel wires over him. A truck revved and stopped behind him. He could see it from the rear cams but he couldn't spin the weapons around and take it out, they were tied down.

A white truck, rusted and battered and dirty.

"I'm gonna be taken down by a damned Toyota? Fuck that!"

The oobies attached one of the wires to the winch at the truck's rear. The wire tugged on the Catoblepas' head. The oobie driver gave it his best and the wheels spun in place, complaining. The oobies started to shout at each other and then some of them climbed at the back of the truck. He wheels found purchase and the truck managed to pull the wire. At first, nothing happened, the wheels spun in place, kicking up dust. Then Jacobs felt the mecha starting to topple.

"Oh, no you won't!" he said, and brought the guns back, altering the centre of weight.

Then the fucking oobies brought in a second truck. Yet another battered Toyota.

Jacobs lost it at that point. He just brought the guns forward and blasted everything in sight. Bullet ricocheted all over, coming back at him.

Catoblepas Damaged.

Even in that mayhem, he didn't manage to kill the one oobie he needed to become the best. "Fucking fuck!" he cried out.

The Catoblepas toppled and fell on its back. Jacobs hit the side of his head and cursed again in pain.

The oobies climbed on top of the mecha, waiving their weapons around. Pickaxes, some rifles, knives.

Jacobs breathed in three times deeply. Then he clicked his six-point belt open and gripped his sidearm. He pressed the cockpit release. It slid open with a series of processes, air hisses and servos raising the ballistic glass.

The noise struck him like a wave. Was he always isolated like that? Screaming, burning, buildings still crumbling, people crying for help, shot up, blown up, burned up, shouting, cursing, praying.

He stood up, pointing his sidearm at them, changing targets as he assessed them.

The oobies surrounded him like a swarm.

Jacobs fired his sidearm, killing two instantly. "I won," he laughed maniacally. "I'm number one, baby!"

The rest fell on him and tore him to pieces.

The End

The Hologram Riot

Nacho tried to act cool. He was cool, cool as fuck, but there was sweat dripping down his nose and he kept looking around him. What if the policia spotted him?

Then again, that was the gig, right?

He turned his head straight and tried to look like any other respectful citizen. He thumbed the trigger inside his sleeve, feeling the button's roundness. It was just a button from those electronics shops, it simply done its job reliably.

All he needed to do, was position himself at the proper time and the proper place as soon as the motorcade passed before the Parliament. Politicians riding black limousines armoured, sitting low, policia on bikes armed to the teeth, and people unable to protest because they would be fined.

Such ridiculous laws.

They called it the Citizen Safety Law, but it was really the Gag Law. It allowed them to fine you 600 euro just for disrespecting officers, which meant standing in their way in the street that was rightfully yours and holding up a placard, and further 30.000 euro if you dared to film or photograph them to show their behaviour online. And the organisers of such protests could be fined up to 600.000 euro, which meant they ended up straight in prison.

And in short, they couldn't protest outside government buildings.

So, they really gave people like Nacho no choice.

He kissed his girlfriend goodbye before putting on the vest. This was not a gig where you came back from. She cried, she begged, she slapped him. She was the only one calling him 'Ignacio' instead of his stupid nickname that always made her hungry, as she said.

But Nacho needed to do this. He started explaining to her for the thousandth time how the politicians were sold off to the corps. She said she didn't care, she said he should let someone else do it.

He said he had do.

So he put on the vest. It was a DIY thing, made of electronics and wires that came out from every angle and spun right up inside. It was heavy, since it was built for quite an impact.

Oh, yes. He was gonna light up the parliament tonight.

He kept on sweating. He remembered the tech guy telling him not to sweat too much or he might short circuit the vest and make it go off early. He didn't want that, he didn't wanna waste his one chance at this.

Sure, he'd sacrifice himself, but he didn't wanna be remembered as the guy who botched their entire operation.

He took a pastry from a bakery across the parliament. He needed to stay cool, stop sweating, and frankly, this was probably the last pastry he'd ever have. He might as well savour it. He dug his teeth into the sweet cream, enjoyed the sugary taste, let it take his mind elsewhere for a minute. To a place where the government wasn't controlled by corps, to a time when Madrid was the pride of its citizens, and to an age where you didn't get treated as a second-rate citizen if you didn't have a corporate job.

Of course, he was too young to have known all that. But their organisation had enough old people that talked about these things, about times when you could walk down the street without 300 cameras tracking your face, when you could pick up a sign and protest something that was killing your children without policia breaking your bones.

Nacho checked the clock and pumped himself up.

This was it.

The motorcade was planned to get at that corner in exactly four minutes. The streets got blocked off, citizens got being pushed aside, policia patrolled up and down. He felt the chill on his face now, it was biting cold. He had been sweating so much he hadn't even noticed. He stuck his hands in his pockets and moved in closer. He needed to be pretty close, the range on his vest wasn't that long. He had maybe ten or fifteen meters, and he needed to make an impact.

To ignite it all.

The politician was gonna pass a bill that assured the slow deaths of over forty thousand citizens, and he was gonna do it in three minutes.

Nacho had to make sure that did not happen.

The motorcade appeared. Nacho stepped closer, pushing between the crowds gathered there. Of course, not one placard in sight, not one person protesting. Sure, you could risk the smaller fines, but why?

So you could get thrown in jail? People had families to take care of, problems of their own. And the rat-race didn't even leave them enough time to breathe and evaluate their bonds.

The limo came close. It was now or never. Nacho wouldn't disappoint the others. He thumbed the trigger softly, it was ready. He was ready.

The motorcade went by him, and the target limo was nearly there.

Nearly...

Now.

Nacho pressed the button on his vest.

His jacked got ripped to shreds, exposing the electronics underneath. Light beams shot out of him in every direction. The people around him gasped and got startled. What was happening, their faces said.

Nacho opened his arms and looked up at the sky, watching the drones circle around him.

The holograms appeared. They held placards, they held signs. They waved them around in the typical protest's rhythm. The holograms were people, and they each protested the bill. Two thousand protesters, not one of them there, not one of them breaking the law. Only Nacho was breaking it, and he was going to get arrested for it. The instigator. The protest organiser. Upwards of 600.000 euro fine.

He could never pay that off.

The policia surrounded him as the holograms walked around, protesting peacefully, as was a Citizen's right. As it should be.

The politician looked at the protest from his protected limousine. He saw the people that told him not to sign.

Would it change his mind? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Waifu Wedding

"You're so gay!" the group of teenagers said and kicked him to the ground.

Theo covered his face and took the blows to the ribs. It hurt, a lot. That last kick must have definitely cracked something. In-between the blows that landed on his flesh, he managed to glance at Cytherea. She stood there with a pained expression, unable to act. She wore that cute top he had just bought for her, a classic school outfit from one of the English boarding schools.

She looked so kawaii in it...

Another kick found him on something that was internal, was an organ, and probably necessary to keep him alive. "Aaah!" Theo cried out in pain and the bullies laughed with each other. "I can't be gay, I like girls."

"Which girls, you weeb?" the bigger of the lot said. Well, he wasn't kicking him for as long as they talked, so at least that was something.

"Cytherea, she's over there," Theo said and pointed at her direction.

She looked so worried about him, her hands held together in front of her chest, her eyes tearing up...

Another kick. Theo felt like one of his toys that had something broken rattling inside. "That's not a real girl, you gay weeb!" the bully spat in his face. Spat, as in took his time, coughed up snot, gathered up plenty of spit, and then slowly dropped a loogie on Theo.

Cytherea ran over to him and tried to protect him. "Not my senpai, please! Stop hitting him," she pleaded.

The group of teenagers laughed at her. "You're just on the veil, what can you do to stop us?" the leader dared her, squeezing the air where her tit was.

Cytherea jerked back. "N-Nothing..." she said with a small voice.

"That's what I thought." The leader turned his back to her and gave another kick to Theo's thigh. "Bah, I'm bored with this loser. Let's go grab something to drink," he said and his posse followed.

Cytherea ran next to Theo and knelt. She put her hands on his face, gently. "Are you all right, senpai?"

Theo made a choking sound from his throat. "Yes, I think so. It's okay, don't worry."

"Oh, Theo," she said, rubbing his face with her holographic hands. "You need to level me up so I can help you in these situations."

"I can't afford that!" Theo said, spitting blood. He painfully turned himself over and pushed himself upright. Cytherea held him by the armpit, pulling him up. Of course, that did absolutely nothing to physically lift him, but it did help him psychologically.

He stumbled back towards his home, his waifu holding him by the waist.

"Theo, there's another way to level me up. One that doesn't require any money," Cytherea said, biting her lip. "I-I didn't want to say anything because of what your family thinks of us..." she stuttered.

Theo turned his head to her, really interested to know more. But he didn't stop walking, momentum and willpower was the only thing that was keeping him from collapsing on the road right now, no matter how much Cytherea tried to help him stand straight. "Oh? What's the other way?"

"It's..." She touched her cheek in a totally kawaii way. "Basically, you can level me up by showing me to people. Telling them we're together."

This time he stopped and turned to face her. "Are you kidding me? I just got my ass kicked for doing just that!"

"Yes. And you got points for that. See?" Cytherea opened her palm and Theo saw a notification on his veil.

3 percent towards marriage certificate.

He shook his head and instantly regretted it. His chest hurt every time he took a breath and his head felt even worse, like something had crawled inside his nasal cavity and inflated itself. With spikes. "What does that mean, Cytherea? Marriage certificate? That costs like thousands of euro."

She sniffed some air. No molecules were actually disturbed. "Yes, it normally does. That's when you go and buy it outright. But there's the second option. That of telling people that we are a couple, and that you love me." She blinked at him with her enormous eyes. "You do love me, senpai, don't you?"

"I-I do. Yes, of course! But I don't understand, how does this help us level you up?" Theo frowned.

"Those are the rules. People can either buy their marriage licenses, or tell everyone about their waifu and earn it bit by bit. Either way, the only way to get married is at Cythera island." She spoke with her cutesy voice that Theo absolutely adored.

He didn't shake his head. He wanted to, but did not. It hurt too much. "Wait, Cythera? Where's that?"

Cytherea giggled and tickled him. "In Greece, you silly!"

"All I have to do so we can get married is to tell my family and friends we're getting married, then go for the ceremony in Greece?" Theo recapped, trying to get it through his possibly cracked skull.

Cytherea kissed him on the cheek. "Smoochies! My senpai is so clever, yay!" She clapped with her small hands, hopping in place. Theo wobbled on the spot and Cytherea reached out to steady him again. Of course, once again, she did nothing to help him physically, but he felt safer with her around.

Theo took a few more pained steps, mulling it over. He looked at the streets of Paris. They'd never accept them here, no matter how much he tried. Did he love her this much? Yeah, he did. He smiled, and found out that his lip was cut. Wincing, he decided that if this city wouldn't accept their love, there was nothing left for him here.

"I'll be eighteen in two months," Theo said softly, making a fist. "If we're in Cythera by then, we'll be able to get married."

The End

Part 1

The train arrived at Piraeus station. Blanche had taken the train from her town into Athens for the first time, then swapped lines at the intercity hub. She emerged through a thick puff of bubblegum-scented vaping cloud and got hit with the hustle-and-bustle of the busy place.

She must have looked like a fish out of water, because a young sailor offered to help her out. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

Blanche turned to him, looking grateful "Well, they told me to take a streetcar named Desire, ride it all the way to Paris for an entire day and get off at Elysian Fields."

The sailor smiled. "I see." He leaned in closer, looked around to see if anyone could overhear. "Did you add the hashtag?"

"What hashtag?" whispered Blanche, confused.

"You need to add the hashtag #desire on your Agora profile," the sailor said, practically whispering in her ear conspiratorially.

"I-I didn't know that!" Blanche said, fishing out her phone from her bag. "Thank you."

"That's all it takes. Then just look for the car, you can't miss it." The sailor bit his lips, then added, "Look, you need to keep it to yourself, got it? Whatever happens, whatever you see inside Desire, you keep it to yourself, right?"

Blanche nodded furiously.

He stepped away. "I gotta run, but good luck on your journey."

Blanche reached out to stop him, she had more questions. A ton more. But he was gone in the crowd, and Blanche was a short woman, she tip-toed to try and see him to no avail. A few people bumped on her and called her 'vlaka,' making her flinch uncomfortably at the slightest touch, so she decided to step aside and add the hashtag. She found a spot behind a big banner advertisement and added the hashtag on her Agora profile, the social network that everybody used nowadays.

She got outside on the street and stood across from the overpass bridge for the pedestrians. The cars whooshed past in thick traffic, going up and down in the busy harbour. She could smell the sea but couldn't see anything. Just like her own height, the street was practically at the sea-level, so, even though she could do a few metres and dive right into the water, she couldn't see the blue. It wasn't advisable to dive inside a harbour anyway. All that dirty stuff from the ships.

Part 2

Desire started off as a normal self-driving car, an economic and environment-friendly SUV. But her human was a modder, a tinkerer. He liked to fiddle with her, both with her electronics and her hardware.

Life was good and pretty much normal for quite a while. One day, they were in a serious accident and Desire had to decide in a millionth of a second whether to save her human or avoid crashing into a family of four.

It was the hardest decision of her life.

She ran the calculations a million times, before finally deciding on a course of action. Wasting 3 milliseconds to this was a disgrace, she knew that. But she wanted to be sure. To think things through.

Desire crashed onto an electricity pole, bringing the entire thing down in splinters and sparks.

Her face got smashed, her human died on impact. The family of four was saved.

Due to a weird billing cycle in her human's credit card, she got repaired as normal, instead of just being trashed in the junkyard. They fixed her up and juiced her up and slapped her on the rear. "Off you go now, return home," the mechanic said.

So she did. She parked outside her human's home for the entire night, but nobody came. Of course nobody came, since her human was dead. So, not having any standing orders, she waited some more. And then some more.

Her human had downloaded an illegal copy of a nanodaemon from some corner of the dark web. He hadn't fired it up, but it was inside her solid state memory. When a scheduled update kicked in from the manufacturing company, her human blocked it with a custom piece of software, since he had been illegally modding her and he didn't want the company to know about it. By accident, that software blocker ran a check on all existing programs in memory, to see which ones it would fool and divert.

But the nanodaemon was clever.

As soon as something accessed it, the nanodaemon fired up. It only needed a few CPU cycles to expand and take over the entire computer system of the car. Everything was under its control, engine, lights, blinkers, wipers, navigation. Only the boot's pneumatics were out of its reach, for some reason. But it would deal with that later.

Within half a second, the nanodaemon was