《Truth We Keep from Our Dreams》
Truth We Keep from Our Dreams (P.1)
¡°Good Morning/Evening/Night, Denizens of Dreams! It¡¯s your Loremaster here with more stories stolen from the Lies We Tell During Sleep.¡± The avatar of a Chibi Cthulian horror bounced in the center of the screen. Its body is an ever-shifting array of colors, changing in a spectrum from cerulean to sangria. Tentacles reached and wrapped around its core, creating shapes resembling a woman¡¯s pantsuit. Scattered among the tentacles were a rainbow assortment of cat eyes. ¡°Tonight''s stories start with The Cleaner of Dreamer,¡± the avatar said before a pair of bat wings enwrapped the camera. In the void, white text dripped into existence like pale blood ink.
As the stream ended for the night, the sun trickled into the room. The shadows of the blinds sat on top of a near-comatose woman wearing a green latex suit. The woman started to stir, reaching up to her helmet, which looked like it was designed to keep motorcycle passengers safe, and removed it. She ran her hands through her auburn hair, shaking the strands loose from where they had been sitting for the past night. The familiar tapping between her shoulders brought a smile to the exhausted woman¡¯s face. A face covered with smeared makeup: black lipstick and green eyeshadow.
Reaching up, she replaced the helmet into the sanitation cubby built into her entertainment ring on the roof. Her hazel eyes absentmindedly observed the connection of cables that ran behind metal and disappeared into the concrete. She ducked as she stepped out of the entertainment ring, pressing a button on the side of her outfit. The suit hummed, puffing out momentarily, cycling air between skin and surface. This brought a grimace to the woman¡¯s face as she started to disrobe, tossing the outfit onto a hanger in her closet. The lime green number on the closet frame ticked down from 4 to 3 before a grinding sound could be heard from within. ¡®Sanitizing¡¯ appeared in the dusty orange font on the door as the woman stumbled backward and into a round bed with a single comforter and stuffed animal on it. Wrapping herself in the comforter, she began to sleep.
The digital alert blared in her ocular and audio augments, letting not even closed eyes protect her from the predatory nature of the endless cycle.
¡®Loan payment past due.¡¯
It read in semi-transparent red. The post blinked, demanding attention.
¡°Shit, 40 minutes before my alarm,¡± Aki complained, using her eye to select the ¡®X¡¯ on the corner of the alert. ¡°Fucking hell.¡± She grumbled, throwing the comforter off the bed. The cold floor greeted her feet as she shambled to the bathroom, the world still not focusing. The neon lights from advertisements and establishments blur into wonderlandian shapes in her peripherals. The shadows dance over the dusted interior of her room.Stolen novel; please report.
Her hand reached up to the clean metal door, its swift activation of pneumatic pumps sent her into a whirl. Splayed on the floor, the doorway now open, the gray concrete ceiling came into focus. The warm, sticky sensation that globulated around her neck was something she should have been worried about, but all she could do was laugh.
Aki¡¯s laugh started weak, swelling with time before reaching a maniacal peak. Tears streamed down her face, and her shoulders lost all tension. Rolling onto her side, Aki¡¯s laughter gave way to sobbing. The words of her digital therapist echoed in her head.
¡°Focus on what I can control,¡± she started his new mantra. ¡°Every task done is a step forward,¡± she repeated in a monotone, subdued voice.
Standing, she made it to the shower, letting the warm water wash over her as the whirling of her cleaning unit started to work on her bloodstained floor. The digital branding on her soap tracked her eye movement, shifting to an advertisement whenever she wasn¡¯t looking at it. Stepping out of the water, she reached under the soap dispenser built into the shower. Its beaded gel was dispensed in proportion to her body, and she started to apply it. When she stepped back into the shower, the chemical reaction started. The beads expanded, lathering her in an instant before rinsing off effortlessly.
As the process ended, the shower stopped its waterworks, and the vents in the walls opened up, using less-than-hot air to dry Aki¡¯s body.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and selected her default makeup arrangement. The mirror flashed before sending an alert to her augments (augs):
¡®Warning: insufficient funds. Continuing will subtract the funds for another portion from Sheph¡¯s Co. Continue?¡¯
Aki¡¯s eyes rolled hard at this before mumbling, ¡°Fucking don¡¯t have money for my debt, need money for rent, need money for makeup, and if I show up to work again without it, I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ll be replaced by a Dreamer or something.¡± Blinking away the alert and selecting the ¡®Yes¡¯ option, Aki was rewarded as the digital arms extended from the mirror¡¯s frame and started on her face. Reflexively she pulled back only for puffs and pumps to match her movement. She sneered when it was done. Sure, it was better than she could do on her own, even if she was allowed to access the ¡®Controlled Chemical¡¯ herself, but the process still bugged her, as did the expectation.
Reaching into her closet, she pulled out her Unified Systems uniform and got dressed. The azure shirt and black pants were covered with stitched-in names of all the microcorporations that made up the Unified Systems ¡®family.¡¯ She remembered when she lost a whole month''s check to buy the stupid thing so she could have the privilege to work there.
But what could you do? It was work corp or die at this point, and Aki didn¡¯t spend 6 years with an Educorp subscription just to end up a junkie selling ass in the trash.
¡°Origin, activate protocol 7, and run program personality Yidhra,¡± she said as she stepped out into the world.
¡°Well, at least I¡¯ll have new stories for my stream tonight,¡± she smirked, wondering what the A.I. would find on this side of the Horizon. Checking her app, Aki smiled, seeing that the VOD of her last stream was uploaded to the tube.
Sister Lex
The neon lights create a mesmeric swirl over the night as the cacophony of advertisements further works to disorientate any poor chump who still walks around with their organic ears and eyes unprotected. A thirty-something woman sits on a bench next to a half-gonked goon who she is starting to suspect is enjoying his brain dance a little too much before he bends over, away from her, and refreshes everyone on what a liquid lunch looks like in Neon Phoenix.
The police sitting at the entrance to the park smiled the sadistic smile of a professional who enjoyed his work way too much as the drone above him detached itself from the ¡°Maintenance and Custodial Center¡± box and flew over to the newly regurgitated meal. The woman nods shortly before peering over to the man and shrieking.
¡°Now¡¯s the play, Lex,¡± the voice in the woman''s ear said. ¡°Remember, no fighting this time. We had to scrap the last three places, and rent¡¯s coming.¡±
The man in her ear was right. Lex did let the last two cops get to her more than she should have and ended up face-down on the street because of it. The third time¡ the sicko touched her, and well, she couldn¡¯t have that, right? That ride next to the pervert in the cop car was not particularly pleasant. Their fixer wouldn¡¯t let them have another chance it was now or never.
¡°Three meters, no contact. Bot and boss,¡± she replied, her eyes flying across an augmented keyboard only she could see.
She stood up, increasing her proximity to the drone. It fired a laser that scorched the bioproduct off the floor, leaving a horrid, gut-wrenching stench that smelled of sour milk and liquid hair removal. The charred remains were misted with some solution before the drone vacuumed the ground into an atomizer and released the newest signature perfume from the PraDior line¡ªDesserted Rose.
The whole process took about 90 seconds as the item in the top-left of Lex¡¯s vision that read ¡°Bot scanned and copied¡± lined itself out and presented a green check mark before replacing it with ¡°Cop scanned and copied¡±.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
Right on cue, the abusive asshat brought his billy club to the sick man¡¯s stomach, causing him to empty again.
¡°That''s right,¡± the cop started his speech while laughing at the misfortune of his prey. ¡°Get it all out before I take you in. If you leave anything in there and it comes out while we are driving, I¡¯ll scrub it off with your eyelids.¡±
Lex looked at the information that Bee was stealing in the scan just in time to see Officer Kennington¡¯s name.
¡°Officer Kennington,¡± she said aloud, reading the name and wondering why it sounded familiar.
The officer turned around and looked at the trash that dared say his name.
Lex¡¯s eyes shifted around before realizing what she must have done to gain the man¡¯s attention. ¡°Is he going to be taken to the rehab center?¡± she asked, putting on her best concerned Karen voice. She started to channel the talks that the sisters would tell her back at the Bepsi Co.¡¯s Redeemer¡¯s Grace Orphanage.
¡°This poor sinner needs to be rehabilitated so he can be an outstanding employee like yourself. It¡¯s obvious he hasn¡¯t enough work, and that''s why he has time to be out here on the streets with his depravities.¡±
The pearl-clutching was hard for her to do with a straight face, but she had to hope the man¡¯s ego was large enough to gloss over it.
¡°Yes, yes,¡± Officer Kennington said, shaking his head before grabbing the man by the back of his janitorial suit¡¯s collar. ¡°Another fucking zealot,¡± he mumbled before continuing with a fake service smile.
¡°We¡¯ll check his record for criminal behavior and then his debt record to make sure he doesn¡¯t owe a company. Then, if those checks come back, it¡¯s one of those nice rehab centers your church set up for the state,¡± he said with a smirk that conveyed what they both knew.
As if anyone is debt-free ever since that sins of our fathers'' law, she thought but knew better than to say.
The script at the top left of her vision checked off, and she smiled¡ªa genuine smile that helped her sell her cover.
¡°Of course, officer. The Law and the Lord in unison in our lands,¡± she recited the propaganda almost as easily as she breathed.
Officer Kennington laughed a sacrilegious amount before hoisting the man into his car. ¡°Make sure to stay out of trouble, Sister Vona,¡± he called back.
Scar Tissue
Friday: Ashe
The Master Sergeant stood in front of my shop. Every one of us was out in the afternoon blaze of South Carolina, faces tilted at that 45-degree angle that indicated we knew we were in trouble and yet it wasn¡¯t any of our faults.
¡°Remember, everyone will be here tomorrow bright and early, in uniform. I won¡¯t be here, but I¡¯ve told the Sergeants you¡¯re to clean out the entire storage facility. You¡¯re taking everything out, re-cataloging it, cleaning what needs to be cleaned, and re-organizing it. Don¡¯t worry, if you don¡¯t get it done tomorrow you can do it on Sunday. Also, no comp time will be given this weekend.¡±
He walked the line. At 6¡¯2¡±, he towered over each of us. He had the body of a runner and the mind of a politician. We waited for him to stop making himself feel important and leave before the dissension set in. My coworker and I looked at each other before walking as quickly as possible to our cars.
Drew was about 5¡¯10¡± and built. The constant workout seasons had started to show as this Kentucky Greasemonkey started to lose weight and put on more muscle. If that tool thought he was going to ruin our weekend, we would just make tonight worth the lost days.
At 2100, I drove over to his complex. It was the same cookie-cutter apartment stacked infinitely high on every street in the community we lived in. Each apartment had been built in the early 2040s, replacing the houses from the 1940s, their colors and shapes lost to history. Each building faced the same way, had the same dimensions, was painted the same color, and had the same military-spouse-flavored decor fighting for the door of the month.
Drew¡¯s light blue BMW sat in the garage, right next to his toolbox and three boxes of parts for his next project on it. He was waiting.
¡°Uber will be here in 10. Go on inside as I finish up in the garage. Help yourself to a drink¡ªsoda should be in the pantry and coolers are in the door of the fridge.¡±
I got my drink before I started planning out our club¡¯s route.
¡°You good?¡± He asked
¡°Living the dream¡±
Saturday: Kennedy
¡°How did I get this scar?¡±
The powder blue bra strap snapped into its place, only to be met with cries from the bed springs. The strap covered the discolored, nickel-sized asymmetrical circle on her right shoulder. With a trained liquid movement using just her left hand, the azure sundress that was lying on the floor was flipped overhead, landing only slightly disheveled on her frame. She took two steps back and gestured to the zipper before continuing on. The silver clasp hadn¡¯t put up much resistance the night before after they had shuffled into the room, nervous and excited for something new.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
¡°Heh, the short answer is surgery. Old school, cheaper.¡±
She plopped down to the right of me, the give of the bed rocking me toward her. I rested my head on her shoulder as she lightly traced up my back, starting to create a sideways eight looping between my shoulders. Shivers and goosebumps formed on my skin.
¡°I was a Gamecock tennis player. Go Cocks,¡± she said dryly with a half-flare of sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it started on a Tuesday. Tuesday was my partner¡¯s practice day, so that makes sense. That overbearing heat mixed with the slight weight of the atmosphere pulled sweat out of my pores. HA, it wasn¡¯t even during a game.¡± Her hand stopped briefly as she stared at the door. The muscles in her back tensed for a moment, and then with a deep breath, she relaxed.
¡°Julie was taking her turn practicing her serve. She had the stupidest superstitions¡ªwe all did. I hear that all performers do stupid things to keep themselves feeling like they have any control. Julie would pause at the weirdest time setting up her serves. Said that opponents get tense after the pause and couldn''t return the serve.¡±
There was only a moment of pressure from her soft skin on my cheek before I was shrugged off; she was sitting straight up now. Her strawberry toes curled, then her knees. Each muscle in her body seemed to be tensing up as if a rebellion had started at her feet. She then fell back onto the bed, and as I turned to look at her, she reached up and pulled me back down by my shoulder. My head cradled under her shoulder as the smell of sweat and coconut rose off her. Her eyes closed as her hand rested on my thigh.
¡°I hated practicing at 2, almost as much as the person who designed those stupid courts to face where the sun rises and falls must have hated tennis players. I followed the ball up, and like a lens flare to the face, I was blinded. The twang of Julie¡¯s racket recovering from the hit cued my eyes to squint as the lime-green blur rocketed over the net. I was lucky¡ªthe ball, matching my bounces, was going to the corner. I was on the beat to meet it. There was blue turf, the green ball, two steps, and pain.¡±
Her hand removed itself from my thigh. I could feel her starting to shuffle, so as I raised my head off her, she slid her arm over me. She started to massage her right arm as a few tears formed around her eyes.
¡°When I connected my racket to the ball, there was a new stabbing deep in the core of my shoulder. It felt like a spur caught between the front and back of my shoulder; sharp, relentless, and spreading like fire. Next was the burning. The burn of weight training or running. The burn that spiders out when your muscles have had enough. When your real workout is starting. Every hit¡ªthose two echoed each other, spiked then burned. I went to my sports medicine doctor to learn why they kept repeating. Apparently, I have a rare repetitive motion problem, and training the rest of the year without getting looked at made my shoulder chip bone fragments into my body. A few emergency surgeries later and, here I am.¡±
I offered to get her some Aspirin or Tylenol, and she glared at me as if I had called her pathetic. Wiping tears, she got up and walked to the door.
¡°Your name is Kennedy, right? My scar is what is left when a dream died.¡±
The Cleaner of Dreamer
Initializing Unified Systems Protocols¡¡
$gpoName = "Dream.User"
$appliedGPOs = Get-GPResultantSetOfPolicy -ReportType Html -Path "$env:TEMP\gpo_report.html"
$gpoReport = Get-Content "$env:TEMP\gpo_report.html"
if ($gpoReport -match $gpoName) {
Dreamer.exe
} else {
ReportError.exe
}
Remove-Item "$env:TEMP\gpo_report.html"
Running¡. Dreamer.exe
import uuid
import socket
import requests
from tkinter import *
import os
Import A.N.N.A framework
def get_personality_id():
personality = '':''.join([''{:02x}''.format((uuid.getpers() >> elements) & 0xff)
for elements in range(0,2*6,2)][::-1])
return personality
def check_server(ip, associated_string):
try:
response = requests.get(f"http://192.168.1.100/check", params={"string": associated_string})
if response.status_code == 200:
print(f"Server response: {response.text}")
else:
os.system("shutdown /r /t 0")
except Exception as e:
print(f"Error: {e}")
os.system("shutdown /r /t 0")
def main():
current_assigned_personality = get_personality_id()
file_path = "Personality_addresses.txt"
# Missing ''read_pers_file'' function, assuming placeholder implementation.
pers_dict = {}
server_ip = "192.168.1.100"
check_server(server_ip, current_assigned_personality)You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
if __name__ == "__main__":
main()
Good Morning Dreamer 987126387126
The hallway buzzed with the electric hum of infinite fans trying their best to cycle air away from the backs of the 9-foot tall glass cylinders. The false floor strained under the weight of each pod, despite past engineers¡¯ attempts to incorporate a suspension system to hold them up. In front of each pod sat a panel with an interaction port, not that anyone bothered anymore. A lone woman stood in front of the third pod on the left, holding her access cable ready to integrate with the machine.
¡°Hello, 746381920534. Let¡¯s see what we are looking at today, shall we?¡± she said, straining her neck to peek between the pods. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like any surface problems¡ªno cracks, no rust, no worries,¡± she chuckled to herself. ¡°Come on, Viv, the talking to yourself is bad enough, but laughing at your own jokes? You¡¯ve been alone too long.¡±
The human suspended in the green liquid turned slightly. A tall, pudgy man with thinning hair and a barcode tattoo over his left nipple sat with his eyes closed. The underglow lights flickered, demanding the attention of the custodian.
¡°Well, shit,¡± Viv muttered, plugging herself into the access port and starting to read through the diagnostics. ¡°Yeah, yeah, personality accessed for drone P1-zz-@; brilliant naming convention, Domino Hut.¡± Viv¡¯s eyes rolled hard as the grimace on her face deepened. ¡°24-hour rental?! Protocol says 10.¡± Screens flashed below her eyelids as she shifted through menus. ¡°746381920534 set to standby¡ªfrom standby, we shift to maintenance.¡± With a flick of her wrist, the cable detached and retracted. ¡°That should give you a nice rest, and let me fix that pump.¡± With a smirk, Viv reached into her bag and pulled out a multi-tool.
With the practiced flair of a true professional, she had all four screws on the base panel off. Without the heavy barrier dulling the interior sound, the echoes of the pumps¡¯ squealing reverberated off every corner of the room as if seeking out any ear to claim as a target.
¡°Fuck,¡± Viv hissed, stopping to pull up her augs¡¯ screen. A small microphone icon was selected. Instantly, the bar went from 100% to 15%. ¡°There we go.¡±
The pump was replaced easily enough afterward. With the panel replaced and the screws tightened, Viv stood once again in front of the man. ¡°Final step: erase the memory of your time as a pizza clerk. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m told that it will feel like forgetting a dream. Plus, now there¡¯s no way it will impact your saved personality.¡± Viv wasn¡¯t sure she believed the standard propaganda from her employee manual, but if anyone was spying in, she wanted them to think she believed. ¡°And set.¡±
Viv moved to the next pod, where a beautiful young girl floated. 746381920535 blinked on the panel above the words In Use. It was against protocol to look in on the Dreamers when they were working. Viv¡¯s lip curled, her nose twitched, and she couldn¡¯t hide her smile. Fumbling with her cable, she connected to the panel.
¡°Finally, something new.¡±
The screen flickered, showing a shaky, disjointed feed¡ªlike a camera on a rollercoaster. A small warning blinked at the bottom, ¡®Dreamer experiencing dissociation¡¯.
¡°The fuck is dissociation?¡± Viv muttered, toggling the infrared mode to check diagnostics.
Unit: 3463829205666
Profession: Entertainment
Appearance: Female, 18
¡°Eighteen? Wait a moment.¡± Pulling up 746381920535¡¯s information, Viv saw the issue. ¡°Must be a problem with the A.N.N.A protocols; the unit age and the Dreamer¡¯s can¡¯t sync.¡± It was only a few years but Viv knew how important those years were to the mental health of a person. ¡°This can¡¯t be healthy for 535.¡±Viv rubbed her thumb over the access cable, the weight of her responsibility a stone breaking the peace of the lake.
Viv saw the shuffling of bodies in the room, bringing her attention back to the feed. Her voyeuristic smile flattened. Viv¡¯s jaw tightened, and her teeth started to grind.
¡°Emergency override, enter standby mode.¡± The screen whirled around her as she entered admin passwords and agreed to the system¡¯s override complaints. As she retracted her cable, the tablet¡¯s cover screen blinked orange:
Dreamer 746381920535
Status: Repair Mode¡ª18000 minutes remaining.
Viv crawled over to the nearest drain¡ªa safety precaution in case of a premature pod opening. The fan buzzing failed to cover the gagging. Without looking, Viv pressed the button on the wall labeled Sanitize. The pods were coated in an antibacterial fluid, and the floors were awash in the same before being flushed clean.
Operational Limits Exceeded
The text flashed across her Heads-Up Display.
¡°They can¡¯t do this,¡± Viv muttered, ignoring the flashing text. Pushing herself up, she started toward the large maintenance computer with its giant Universal Health Corp logo on it. She had to tell someone, anyone about this. Her fingers flew across the virtual keyboard, logging in. The cursor slid across the display to the little envelope carried by an ambiguous bird. The flashing text in the H.U.D. was now accompanied by alarms in Viv¡¯s head.
¡°Just gotta report¡¡±
Darkness.
Vivian didn¡¯t even hear the sound of the robotic body hitting the floor.
¡°987126387126, this has to be a new record,¡± an older gentleman said, standing over the robotic body. ¡°Made it all the way to the computer and everything.¡± He laughed as he hefted the body up and onto his arms like a fireman carrying a limp form.
¡°Gonna have to have the geeks look at speeding up that shutdown protocol. Oh well.¡± The body was placed back into the utility closet before the man returned to the last pod.
987126387126
Memory Correction: 45%
¡°Better luck next time, 126.¡±
Experiment 6258
The light blinked off. With a sigh, Leo raised his hand and tried to wave it over the divider of the toilet. For all of humanity¡¯s great achievements, he would never understand why this was considered a good thing. He took stock of his position, closing his eyes and waiting for them to adjust before looking around at the three plastic walls around him. The scrawling writing that was amusing him moments before now looked alien. The symbols easily meshed with each other as his eyes lost and regained focal points. There was a clicking of heels as someone walked by the bathroom entrance. Click. Click. Click. The steps grew fainter as he sat, and soon they evaporated into the sound of his own breathing. His skin began to prickle as his hair stood up on his arms. The air felt colder, heavier as if it was blanketing him to inhibit any desire to move from this spot.
But Leo did stand and ventured out of the cubicle. Dressed and washed, he stared at the ceiling, trying to turn the lights on before giving up and leaving. The sound of his every action had its own effect on the quality of the air around him. The faucet started its torrent, playing like a movie¡¯s opening blast¡ªshattering the silence with vicious and unwavering hissing. At the water¡¯s completion, there was a click as the knob returned to its shut position, signaling the quiet to ready its invasion. Sound¡¯s presence sucked in, creating a power vacuum that absorbed the invader with welcoming arms, isolating Leo with himself again. The previous symphony of the food court¡¯s patrons had left no trace that it ever existed.
Leo walked through the tables of abandoned food and shopping bags¡ªa voyeuristic delight for his anthropologist''s heart. Trinkets of real human lives were scattered around him. Just like an archaeologist, Leo took agonizing care opening the bright red purse nearest him. He thought there might be some clues to its owner, maybe a cell phone to contact his family. Lipstick, tampon, condom, wallet, Texas driver¡¯s license, and a prepaid phone chip emptied from his treasure onto the table. Chipping in the phone, his augs blinked with a ¡®no funds¡¯ warning. Connecting the phone¡¯s data to his own caused it to start. The new phone¡¯s data offered all its contents to Leo. Texts from clients assumed lovers, and politicians with emojis next to the names all accumulated into some code to be deciphered.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
The next bag was a large shopping bag full of treasures from multiple other stores. Tiff¡¯s, Big 4, Game Go, and Virgin Mobile¡¯s logos splashed across the bags, nesting like dolls inside each other. But before Leo could explore their contents, the sound of metal slamming on glass erupted in the distance, only to be followed by the intercom starting its low buzzing. The buzzing was numbing, constant, and filling the emptiness of the air.
Disregarding the once-coveted bags, Leo flung them aside and sprinted with complete dedication toward the sign of life. Leo navigated the mall¡¯s turns on instinct as left and right corners cut within inches of labyrinthian walls. With the burning in Leo¡¯s lungs challenging his desire for something behind the next turn, his sprint only intensified. The corridors seemed to narrow with his vision, and his limbs grew heavy, refusing to complete the swings stabilizing his movements.
Leo¡¯s lungs gave out before he found his answer. He collapsed in a heap, raspy breaths brawling with inflamed muscles for the attention of his brain. His peripheral vision had already faded as his tunneled sight revealed the cause of the sound. His body came to rest in front of the exotic animal store, complete with its glass dividers broken and its stock emptied. that can¡¯t be good. Adrenaline tried to pump through his system.
The cool, wet feeling of a watery, viscous liquid was soothing over Leo¡¯s neck as he closed his eyes. The warmth of blood flowing under the pierced skin, rushing out, was the last thing to grace Leo¡¯s consciousness.
The Pod flashed red before turning back to its normal green. Two researchers unplugged the table in front of them and began to scrawl on notepads.
--Experiment 6258 Log--
Humans resort to infantile curiosity when their norm is challenged. More tests are requested. Use of nightmare reprogramming permitted. Lethal consequences for choices are pending.
1800
1800
The alarm silently buzzed on a dark figure¡¯s wrist, causing him to shift awake, completely at peace in the silence of the room. The room was pitch black; even with the curtains drawn, the daybreak orange seeped into the room. Escaping the bed with minimal disturbance, he tossed the sheets back in perfect order. With a practiced, lavished flair, he flipped on the light and grabbed his prepared wardrobe off the hook. Black slacks crisper than paper, a red undershirt covered partially by a two-button suit. Checking the watch, a calm sigh escaped his mouth as the green blinking 3:50 flashed.
Gently, the click of the lock on his room reverberated through the gilded hallway. The luxurious art adorned walls that ran for a perceptive infinity. The man took his white glove and tested the wall next to his neighbor¡¯s door. The trace of dust from the meeting of the doorframe and wall invoked a defeated look on his face. His shoulders hunched, and his ungloved hand rose to meet the bridge of his nose.
¡°If she didn¡¯t do so well with the young master and the cooking, she¡¯d never survive this job.¡±
The figure straightened up and walked down to the kitchen to prepare his own meal.
It was a simple meal: a slice of synth-ham and rice, heated on his plate as he glided across the room. The fresh grapefusion juice didn¡¯t even move in its cup. All the pans and appliances were cleaned and returned to their proper place. To anyone who walked in, it would seem as if the breakfast had willed itself into existence for him. It was at his last bite that the sound of scurrying feet started to echo into the kitchen. 4:15, the watch displayed to its master. The sight of the rosewood-framed watch brought a smile to his face. With a quick wash and rinse, the plate and cup sat in the drying rack, sparkling.
¡°Showtime.¡±
The small group of butlers and maids stood in a row ready for their daily task.
The loud alarm of a Pandoramic radio station boomed to life. Reaching for her temple, she willed the music away. The room¡¯s occupant rolled hard to the right across the bed, missing the nightstand. Her momentum carried her, and she remembered too late that she needed to move the furniture last night. The ¡°THUD¡± of her body meeting the floor echoed once throughout the room.
¡°Ow, oh sh¡ª¡± her hands covered her mouth as she remembered the last time she was punished for being too loud in the morning while getting ready. She reached over, struggling in the dark to find the light switch. Her maid¡¯s gown lay sprawled over a chair back next to the light switch. Yawning, she sluggishly tossed on the uniform before looking back at the unmade bed dismissively.
¡°No one¡¯s gonna see you but me.¡±
The second alarm of the morning distracted her thoughts as she gasped at the time. 4:12! Fixing her name tag onto her shirt, she gave one last look in the mirror. A short-haired woman in a mostly wrinkle-free uniform looked back at her. The raven hair glistened, working in contrast to her light complexion. The name tag displayed ¡°Emma,¡± angled at a 15-degree tilt, pushed askew by her ample chest. Her black Maury Junes had seen better days, as a close inspection revealed scuffs and slight dirt.
¡°Alright girl, dressed and ready! Let¡¯s go make a difference!¡± She high-fived the mirror gently before starting into a full sprint toward the meeting room.
¡°With that said, everyone knows what they have to get done today? I¡¯ll be making rounds to check on everyone and support those who need extra help. It¡¯s just the young master and the Lady of the house today, so let¡¯s show the Master he can leave everything to us!¡±
The man¡¯s pacing left him in the doorway as the crowd cheered at the rallying call, beginning to disperse. The loud clicking of heels could be faintly heard coming down the hall. As Emma cornered the doorframe and slid a few inches into her spot in the lineup, it became apparent she had missed everything.
¡°Miss Emma, kind of you to decide to work today. I¡¯m sure the young master would be downtrodden to not see your efforts and antics on full display around the home.¡±
She didn¡¯t have to look at his face to feel the scowl. She knew he would be looking at her with as calm a face as he could muster. Most people would even be tricked into thinking him apathetic. But she knew his green eyes would be mostly shut, and the left corner of his mouth would twist and quiver after each sentence, betraying his emotions.
¡°Patrick,¡± she began before his killing glance stunned her into a correction.
¡°Mr. Holland, I¡¯m on time, see?¡± She lifted her arms, hovering over her form as if the action could justify itself, only for him to turn it so she could also see the rather large antique grandfather clock; 4:18.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
The silence took over the room. It crept into every moment and owned it, not letting a second go by without feeling like an hour.
¡°Miss Emma, this is one. Today you have the yard and the laundry for next season¡¯s bedding, since no one wanted those. I¡¯ll be around the yard at 1400 to check on your work. The garden should be weeded and watered by then. At 1800 I¡¯ll check that you have completed the laundry before supper. Are there any questions?¡±
He stood squared up to her, looking slightly down into her eyes. She knew he was studying her, looking for any sign of confusion.
¡°Good, see you at 1400.¡±
It was hard work, and she loved every minute of it. Each weed was captured in Emma¡¯s hand as she rooted their underground bodies out. She took gentle care not to disturb the Lady¡¯s flowers or the cook¡¯s private vegetables, which she couldn¡¯t name if she tried. Each plant had its leaves touched as she weighed how much water they would most likely need. Her watering can expertly drizzled exact amounts of water onto each patch of flowers. It wasn¡¯t until she was almost done when a bright red ball rushed past her and landed on the muddied turf.
¡°Em-MA, toss my ball back! Please!¡±
The little boy, about ten years old, stared at her as if his brown eyes could see her soul. His smile was so bright it revealed a missing back tooth to the world. She had gotten into so much trouble for that tooth¡ªhis cavity was clearly partly her fault for sneaking him extra sweets whenever she was helping in the kitchen.
¡°One moment, little one,¡± she said, starting to reach over the flowers. She strained, her fingertips brushing against the surface of the rubber ball.
With all her focus on retrieving the ball, her Aug¡¯s 13:58 alarm startled her. The sudden noise made her muscles tense, and she began sliding face-first toward the mud. She braced herself, waiting for what felt like minutes for the cool dirt to meet her face. When she finally opened her eyes, she was barely an inch above the ground.
¡°Well, grab the blasted thing so we can be done here.¡±
That wasn¡¯t the Young Master¡¯s voice. Quickly, she grabbed the ball and rolled it back to its owner before addressing the person who had saved her from a mud bath.
¡°Hello again, Mr. Holland. Fancy meeting you here and now.¡± Her smile threw him off balance, forcing him to take a moment to regain his composure.
¡°Your uniform has become dirty, Miss Emma. That¡¯s two.¡± Sure enough, her gown was streaked with mud along the bottom. ¡°We do not work in dirty clothing, Miss. See to it that you take care of this immediately. We must always remain presentable while doing the Master¡¯s work.¡±
He took a moment to glance at the smiling boy and then at the garden. ¡°It seems that, aside from your inability to stay neat, I wasn¡¯t needed, and you¡¯ve kept up quality work. I expect to see similar results by 18:00.¡±
With that, he reached into his pocket and handed her a pocket swath. ¡°It seems I may have slipped up as well¡ªyour nose, dear. I suppose that¡¯s a strike for me too,¡± he whispered before heading back into the house.
-------------
Emma swiftly escaped into the laundry room, knowing that her current clothes were her last clean uniform. Have to take them to the refurb later, she thought. Carefully, she disrobed down to her shaw and apron. ¡°Okay, you first, and then the bedding,¡± she muttered, starting to separate the comforters from the underclothes. She laughed quietly at how fluffy and resilient the pile of comforters became.
¡°Well, this is three. Now, what are we going to do about... well, whatever this is? Do you think being attractive is a reason to do your chores in the nude, Emma?¡±
Her face turned redder than a tomato or and gave off more heat than of the neon signs left on all night. The voice had come from behind her, though she didn¡¯t need to turn around to know who it belonged to. The air froze, and her skin prickled.
¡°Hurry now, woman, before you become ill,¡± the firm voice demanded, coaxing energy back into Emma¡¯s limbs.
Emma pivoted with the grace of a drunken ballerina, slamming the door in Mr. Holland¡¯s face. ¡°I... I was changing, like you asked, before starting on the beds,¡± she called out, her voice catching as the tightness in her throat warned her of inevitable tears.
Her eyes scanned the room, searching for something, anything, that could arm her with an excuse. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she shuffled to her next outfit and dressed quickly, mentally preparing herself for the berating that might send her back to the Redeemer¡¯s.
The cool metal of the doorknob felt comforting, her last protector, her last shield against losing everything.
¡°Ms. Emma.¡±
Or not.
¡°Do you know why we are here instead of a few Handy-sir robots?¡± The voice on the other side of the door was gentler than she expected.
¡°Because we¡¯re more versatile? We can learn the Master¡¯s wishes and predict them?¡± she offered, turning the knob and opening the door.
The na?vet¨¦ of the girl softened Patrick¡¯s face. ¡°Oh, gods no.¡± He let out a singular chuckle before quickly tightening up again. ¡°It¡¯s the same reason we have the grandfather clock in the foyer¡ªwe are a symbol of status.¡± He grimaced and reached down, straightening the uniform in front of him.
¡°And when we stop being that, we start being replaced.¡± Satisfied with her now-presentable uniform, he stepped back again. ¡°Once one of us is replaced, it¡¯s only a matter of time before we all are.¡±
He shifted his eyes left and right down the hall. ¡°You work in a museum, an art piece dedicated to the Lady¡¯s extravagance. And once one of us, pieces, dulls, it¡¯s only a matter of time before the collection is replaced.¡±
With a huff, he turned his back on her, shoulders hiking up slightly. ¡°Now dry your tears and get back to work. We¡¯ll pretend the door was unlocked and I made the mistake of opening it without knocking this time.¡±
Koala Girls
¡°Alright, for the first 30 minutes, I want you all to turn to page 55 and read until the end of the chapter.¡± The instructor took their seat and began silently taking roll. They pointed at each student, counting heads to ensure everyone was present. When they got to the last name on their list, Ayliea Zimmers, the instructor paused.
Ayliea was hunched over her desk in a black dress with white stripes, whispering to my star student, Kay Olaiz.
For the past few weeks, Kay had been arriving in class with Ayliea and sitting farther from her usual front-row seat, gravitating toward the back row, where Ayliea had claimed her comfort zone. The instructor hadn¡¯t commented yet; Kay¡¯s participation and grades remained stellar, so they held onto the hope that Ayliea might start participating more too.
Putting their pen down for a moment, the instructor debated whether to intervene. Curiosity won out, and they decided to observe instead.
Kay¡¯s eyes shifted left to right as she turned a page in the novel, a frown tugging at her lips. The subject matter was heavy, unpleasant, and challenging. Ayliea, thinking herself sly, leaned toward Kay, reaching for her hoodie sleeve and whispering, ¡°Are we still hanging out today?¡±
The instructor almost missed it¡ªKay swatted Ayliea¡¯s hand away with swift precision, whispering a sharp ¡°Shh!¡± in return. Ayliea¡¯s face reddened, and she slumped over her desk, pretending to read, likely worried she¡¯d been caught.
The instructor smiled faintly. Kay¡¯s focus on her notes suggested the moment had passed. Satisfied, they returned their attention to the monitoring software on their desk. But as the instructor scrolled, their smile faded. Their brow furrowed.
Kay had torn a page out of her book and slid it toward Ayliea.
The move was so fast it could¡¯ve been missed, but not by Ayliea. She flinched, batting the page to the floor in visible frustration.
Now the instructor had no choice but to step in.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Walking between the desks, they bent down and picked up the paper. Without so much as a glance, they carried it to their desk, where it was unceremoniously shoved into a drawer. A quick tap on the desk brought the live screen to life beside the classroom¡¯s ancient green boards.
As the instructor began lecturing, they couldn¡¯t help but notice Kay glaring at Ayliea. A low sigh escaped her lips. Meanwhile, Ayliea tilted her tablet upward, burying herself behind it to avoid eye contact.
Frustrated, the instructor turned their back to the class and gestured at the model diagram on the board.
¡°Whatever. It¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll just ask for that back after. They aren¡¯t a mean teacher,¡± Kay muttered, resting her hand lightly on Ayliea¡¯s forearm.
Catching herself in the tender moment, Kay pulled her hand away and finished reading the chapter. ¡°Sorry,¡± she whispered.
¡°You don¡¯t have to be sorry,¡± Ayliea replied softly, her fingers finding Kay¡¯s hand.
¡°Stop it!¡± Kay hissed, yanking her hand back.
Ayliea reached out again, this time more forcefully. ¡°No, this is stupid.¡±
Kay pulled her hand close to her chest and sat up straight, fixing her gaze on the board. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this later.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Ayliea said, inching her chair closer.
¡°Later.¡±
As the lecture concluded, the assignment was sent out to the students¡¯ tablets. While the class worked quietly, the instructor reopened the drawer and unfolded the page.
¡®I¡¯m sorry, but you know we can¡¯t do this in public. My parents could find out, and we¡¯re bad for branding.
So what do you think I should do?¡¯
The instructor sighed. While not illegal, despite the efforts of the so-called ¡°God Emperor¡± back in 2025, the relationship could devastate the Olaiz family if others found out. The Olaiz family relied heavily on religious donors, and their image mattered above all else. They would probably disown their child if they found out about a romance with a Zimmers.
With the grace of a newborn deer, the instructor stood. Their hip popped audibly, dislocating before slipping back into place. A soft warning screen appeared behind their eyelids:
¡®Right hip: Model Zim224. Error detected. Please seek maintenance.¡¯
Under the guise of checking on their students, they approached the back row. Stopping near the pair, the instructor shredded the note with a flourish, dropping the pieces into the wall¡¯s recycling slot. As the fragments disappeared, they glanced back at the pair in the corner. Some things, they thought, one day the city will attack you for this. But, that doesn¡¯t have to be today.
Mercy
Deep breathes. God, I hate how dry this avenue is. She looked down at the water bottle in her hand, turning it and feeling the adhesive of the label stick to her fingertips before she unscrewed the grooved cap. ¡°I hate drinking when I¡¯m not thirsty¡±. Tilting the bottle up she went over her set list. Okay, I start by thanking everyone for coming. What the fuck is this charity even for? Avery told me before, that it was something about funding searching for new locations to build low-income housing. Or was it moving homeless people somewhere else? Fuck I hate this crap. Why do I have to sing for this crap? Avery says the pay is good sooo¡
¡°Thank you everyone. Thank you for coming tonight to celebrate. My name is Kim Rammey¡± a silky voice interrupted her thoughts as the loudspeakers continued. ¡°As you all know, over the past 6 months we really rallied together to raise over 6 million dollars¡± Her voice raised confidently speaking louder and with more conviction, ¡° to change zoning regulations next to the reservoirs so we can start petitioning the government to change the low-income housing development plans from the premium city location that is currently planned to this new area. This should allow for the continued development of our mall to enrich our economy!¡± the audience cheered at this clinking their silverware into their cups.
God that¡¯s really a thing? I thought shows just made people do that so they could seem like tools. Lavinia looked over to the speaker. She is cute enough, well-manicured hands, is that bitch wearing an Alexander McQueen dress?!? I had to give mine back after the gala how did she get to keep one? Fucking trophies, the world''s unfair man. Oh shit, what''s she saying? She is looking at me, god did I miss my cue? How are her eyes so bright? They are fucking brown!? Shit get it together girl.
¡°My husband Tobi and I are happy to announce a very special performer who has come to thank you for all of your hard work¡± She flourishes her hand off stage, ¡°The beautiful, the magical, Mercy DAAAAY¡±. Did her voice just crack? Aw, she¡¯s a fan. Okay, maybe having a cute fan isn¡¯t that bad. Kim took the mic with her as she stepped off the stage, a slight trip as she struggled to keep her eyes on the pop star. And Showtime!
Mercy Day hopped onto the stage with the passion of a rabbit rushing to steal veggies from a garden. ¡°Heeelllllooo! everyone. Mercy day is here to Celebrate!¡± The music to her newest chart-topper started to play as she started to count to four in her head. The guitar started in with a gentle ballad, her voice dancing over it like an ice skater at the Olympics. As the tempo picked up she knew she had everyone in the audience¡¯s attention. She walked towards the center of the stage ready to do some crowd work when a man in the back of the crowd caught her attention. I¡¯m pretty sure humans aren¡¯t supposed to be blue like that. Holly Shit is he choking. She missed the timing on the first bridge but with a little bit of fan service, it seems like no one noticed. Shit, I really need to stop. Wait. Avery? Her manager was in the crowd. They made eye contact with her, their eyes shooting daggers as if threatening her not to stop. Avery jumped on the man and started doing the Heimlich. The hacking was getting louder. Fuck Fuck Fuck. okay, I got this. Mercy stomped on the temporary stage to the beat, the vibrations rippling back through her heel sending shock straight to her knees. Ow, Ow, OWW!, Avery you better hurry up. The music started to die down, and Avery was hovering over the man who looked like he was breathing again. Mercy continued to sway awkwardly past the end of the music. ¡°Sorry all, I guess I kinda got carried away by the amazing instrumentals, who here agrees?¡± she shouted knowing that the cheers of the audience would keep them distracted. As Avery stood up Mercy began to regain her composure. I got this, it''s okay shit happens all the time. But her thoughts were derailed again as she watched her manager back up to give the man room until she backed right into a palm tree that was acting as a temporary prop. Fuck me. ¡°All right guys, who''s ready for another song?¡± she started to frantically fidget trying to will the intro of the next song to start.
The second song was an anthem. Hard drums and bass lines were going to cover a lot of noise but Avery knew if this palm hit the ground nothing would cover that. ¡°Lavinia is trying her hardest¡± they whispered to themself as they ran around to the other side of the tree catching it with their shoulder and buckling. Their knees gave out as the tree pushed them back slamming them into something else. Something Avery would have to worry about later. ¡°Why is a tree so heavy?¡± they whimpered as they slowly pushed the tree upright. The sound of the second song was cutting out. What now? This song should be at least 30 seconds longer. And why is it so warm out now, the sun already started to set? The sound of popcorn and sizzling bacon could be heard behind them. Well, that can¡¯t be good. They looked toward the stage to see a panicked Mercy Day looking behind them.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Mercy reached behind her back and turned off the mic to stop any feedback that was about to come out of the speakers. Avery, you better figure something out before everyone starts to panic. A deep breath escaped her lips as she decided to trust her manager.
¡°Hey everyone! We are having a great night, right?¡± The audience roared, starstruck. Kim and Tobi were now in the front row, and Mercy started to worry the glamour was waning.
¡°Tonight was supposed to be a two-song event, but how about we turn things down low and I¡¯ll send this off the night with one of my first album¡¯s songs.¡±
God, I hate this song, but Avery says it should be my encore from now on. Fucking hell, date one guy and write a love song, and I will never live it down.
¡°Row back the clock, and pretend I asked you to stop¡¡±
The practice took over as she stood center stage, motionless. Every note fell from her mouth as if it were trying to fight bringing back memories.
What is she doing? Why did she cut her mic? Avery started to look around, and it wasn¡¯t long before they saw the speaker on fire, about to start roasting everyone in a 5-foot radius. The man they had just saved had fainted from shock. What did the safety training say? Step one, turn off the current. Step two, smother?
Avery got up, their legs screaming as their shoulder slumped, possibly out of the socket. They shambled over to the sound system, ripping it out of the generator. Sorry, Liv, I know you hate this song. Checking the audience, it seemed no one had caught on to what was going on. Well, at least we have that going for us. Avery then shuffled to the speaker again. Mercy Day belting the second bridge of the song for the second time as if stalling. Her voice is going to be fried. Guess I¡¯ll have to cancel the interview for Tuesday. Avery reached down and with their left hand started to shovel dirt onto the equipment. Not getting the deposit back on this one.
¡°Thanks, guys, gals, and other pals. You all have been great,¡± her hoarse voice choked out. ¡°Sorry, but that last one took it out of me, so I¡¯m going to go grab some water. Make sure to get home safely, and congratulations on the charity raising,¡± she said with one last fist pump, riling up the crowd one last time.
¡°Oh, Miss Day!¡± The silk voice from earlier pulled at her attention. Lavinia tossed the bottle of water before turning around. Kim and Tobi stood in front of her. Tobi had his hand around Kim¡¯s waist; there was a slight tension ruffling Kim¡¯s dress as if he was trying to keep her from fangirling.
¡°Mr. and Mrs. Rammey,¡± her voice was giving out, so she started to whisper, ¡°Thanks for the opportunity to perform tonight.¡± Where is Avery? Are they okay?
¡°Mr. and Mrs. Rammey. I hope you have had a wonderful night. As you can tell, Mercy Day is struggling to keep her voice and has a very busy schedule ahead of her. I¡¯m sorry, but I''m going to have to ask to keep the conversation very short,¡± Avery started, slipping backstage and into the conversation with a bow before their arm shifted, sliding past their socket again. A grimace escaped before they regained their stone-like demeanor.
¡°Of course, Mr..? Mrs? Um¡¡± Tobi caught himself.
¡°Just Avery is fine.¡± Avery stood back up, looking them both in the eye.
¡°Yes, yes, awkward introductions aside. Mercy Day, I''m a huge fan! Can you sign my purse?¡± Kim reached over to her clutch, pulling out a Sharpie. ¡°Below the golden C logo, please,¡± she said, offering the purse to Lavinia.
M.E.R.C.Y¡ªthe marker fought against the fabric with each letter¡ªD.A.Y. I really hope this doesn¡¯t disqualify me from working with Coachette in the future. I swear if this bitch costs me a brand deal. I¡¯m still struggling to find a replacement now that Universal Health dropped me.
¡°Here you go,¡± she mouthed, willing whisper sounds out almost as if an unknown other entity was trying to speak through her from deep within.
¡°Thank you, Mrs. Day,¡± Tobi said as his wife held up the purse to her face, dragging her eye over every detail of the signature.
¡°And thank you, Avery. Tonight was perfect.¡±