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Problems with the Staff (Revised)I blearily shuffled into my lab and slapped on the coffee maker. I was enjoying staring at the dripping coffee when a loud noise exploded out of the lab speakers.
I almost screamed.
It took me a moment to recognize the sound was the shatter of glass breaking on tile.
Then a voice came from the speakers.
It was Stucky’s voice. Stucky, who wasn’t due to be on duty for another four hours. The speakers crackled with a familiar sound and after a few moments, there was a soft sound of cloth falling on carpet.
“…No,” Stucky said.
Crackle. I heard some little noises, then the clatter of something thin and metallic hitting concrete.
Now a hail of small hard spheres pinging off of thick glass.
Alright, this was ridiculous. I put on my belt and tuned it. I hit the buckle and crackled into existence four feet away from S
That's Life “There is absolutely no point to life,” Max groaned.
“No point,” Charlie said.
“Look at us. We eat, we sleep. We eat so we can sleep, wake up so we can eat.”
“It’s so sad,” Charlie whined.
“There’s no meaning to anything at all. No one will remember us when we’re dead. They barely know we’re alive right now. No one remembers our names half the time.”
“So true,” Charlie said.
“And why do we—”
“SQUIRREL!” Charlie barked.
“SQUIRREL!” Max howled.
Both dogs launched off the porch, barking hysterically as a fat squirrel fled up the apple tree. They barked for a good three minutes before their master yelled at them from the porch.
“Max! Charlie! Dinnertime!”
“FOOD!” Charlie and Max yelped, racing to the porch.
After they stuffed their faces, the dogs lay down on the porch to sleep.
Humanity and StarlightDjemba had never seen the sky. The sky wasn't visible until Level 60 and Djemba had never left the historic Level 1.
He had lived in the shed next to the Barn for all 96 of his years, and had the Barn in his sole care for 76 of those years.
Djemba sometimes thought about seeing the sky. But he would read about the smog storms and light pollution and saw pictures of a glowing smudge called the Moon. And so he never tried to see the stars.
Eight hours before his 97th birthday, Djemba received a notice. The Barn was no longer valuable to Humanity. It would be destroyed tomorrow. A Grand Tower would house another 30,000 Humans in the Barns' once humble place.
Djemba decided it was time to finally watch the Stars.
And they were beautiful. They sparked and they shimmered. They glowed. They were fire in darkness, life in a void.
Djemba watched the Stars until one of them burnt a little too hot. The flame of the Star spread across the ceiling of the Barn to the next Sta
The Same StoryBeing alive isn’t the same as living. Bill was dead.
Bill was born.
Between being born and being dead, he lived for a while. It wasn’t terribly exciting and no one cared much about him one way or the other. He did breathing, eating, some sex. No one cared. Including Bill himself.
Don’t be Bill.
A Long HobbyI made a terrarium. A little miniature rainforest in a bottle. Bright indirect light, add some water inside, close the lid. Made perfectly, they can theoretically sustain themselves forever.
Mine was perfect.
It lived for almost a million years.
Then a fool ran into it with his spaceship.
I make them with warning lights now.
One of the Rumors About MeHey, do you know how rumors start? Well? It isn’t a full-blown rumor until many people are repeating it. So, of course, it has to be said many times, preferably by as many people as possible. And then it's just a rumor. It doesn't mean it's true, does it?
...Well, yes, you can see that rumor is true.
After you get shot, dismembered and burned, poisoned, thrown into deep space and other such deadly delights, people start talking about how hard you are to kill.
The pathetic thing is that, were I an ordinary being, I would have been dead about… hmmm.
Um, nevermind, we’re not going to talk about that.
Anyway, the point is there are people who want to kill me all the time, every day. And since they are better at killing than I am at not being killed, I like to hide.
So I just need to stay right here until my leg reattaches. It won’t take long, I promise.
No, don’t tell your mother! Look, here, I have a Tessami body-singer! Yes, they
Finding DadClarissa sat on a stone wall, sullenly staring at the goblin offering her what it claimed was a delicacy, a "karbob" which he had been saving. It just looked like a pale miniature potato. Except that it had just been harvested directly from the goblin’s armpit.
“That’s okay, really,” she said, forcing herself to stand. “I have to find my Dad.”
“At least have some Owl Wine!” the goblin said, shoving a mug under her nose. Clarissa inhaled the deep, soupy miasma of fermented owls.
“Opprobydup!” Clarissa gagged out.
Clarissa fell off the top of a building and hit a Spṻe in midflight. It flapped angrily and bit her in the arm a second before she used it to cushion her fall.
“Damnit!” Clarissa cursed. She knew what a Spṻe bite could do. She had barely gotten to her feet when she saw a patrol of armored goblins clamoring towards her.
This time C
Scars of the SkyTwindog knew that they were scarring the sky. It wasn’t global warming or climate change or El Nino. It was because they were ripping the sky. The supersonic jets were the worst. Where the supersonics roamed, the sky bled. This was nothing that ordinary men could see, with their eyes and their spectrometers. The Earth upon which men toil is often considered to be the skin of the world. But the flesh of the Earth is protected by the skin of the Sky.
Man was tearing the skin.
Mars had her skin ripped from her many ages ago. There was nothing left of those who had once lived upon her flesh.
Mars was at peace.
Twindog knew they were scarring the sky and he let them.
Play TimeThe bird flapped its wings slowly. Not slow enough, though.
I slowed it down even further. No, I still couldn’t see that feather very well.
There. I was wasting the day, moving my time so quickly that the bird looked nearly motionless, but that feather needed to be drawn properly.
Ah. Got it.
I went back to realtime and the bird sped off, chasing some hapless bug.
I was admiring my drawing when my timesense picked up a change behind me.
I dropped my sketchbook in the dirt and whirled around, yelling, “Ha!”
Tree-Kisser skidded to a stop.
“That’s no fair! How could you tell?” he demanded.
“Ha. You broadcast your quicktime for many seconds before you arrive! It is child’s play to match your timeflow!”
“No it isn’t! I do not!”
“Yeeeees you doooo,” I said teasingly.
“No! And mom says you’re late for dinner!
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More