„I got you a blanket, so you won’t freeze.“ Steve smiles and hands Tom a grey woolen cover.
Already half undressed, Tom furrows his brows. He stops mid motion, shoe laces around his fingers. „It looks scratchy. I’m hungry, and it’s freezing.“ He looks at Steve’s face and stops again, irked. „Don’t stare like that!“
„Like I was a piece of cherry pie. Stop that. It’s awkward.“
The blanket flies to the autopsy table. „I just can’t please you, huh?“ Steve smirks. „When did you eat the last time?“ Continue reading “the experiment”
this is an assignment I’m working on and thought of sharing with you guys-
also content warning: strong language
„Where’s – the horse?“ The words. So hard. To speak. Heavy. My eyelids are heavy as stonework. I swat at the light in my eyes and the fingers forcing them open.
„What horse?” The light hurts. Who’s voice is that?
„That kicked me. Somewhere…Chest” Sighing. „Proto?“ The light and fingers retract. The floor is spinning, so I have to hold tight.
Above me, a silhouette fogs up. „Don’t you scare me like that, EVER again!” I know that uniform, that shape. A captain-shaped uniform! Huh… What’s he doing here?
I’m soaked and flat on my back. „Still on the ship, aren’t I?”
„Aye. Still on board of my Sleipnir.“ His words fall on my stomach, their weight make me nauseous. My head is empty. Think! What am I doing down here? Something went wrong. Dosage? Anaphylactic reaction? Why am I wet?
„Oriented to location. Now tell me your name.” I obey.
„Oz. I mean Oscar Wellington. Doctor.”
„Good. Who am I? Don’t roll your eyes, you know the drill. Location, person, time, situation.” Yes. I know the drill.
„2198.“ I don’t have to think. „You’re the captain. Edward Wong.”
A disappointed shade crawls over his face. Or is it anger? I can’t tell. „Do I have to run a drug test on you? Were you high, or what?! How do you explain THIS?” He waves at me, the destroyed electronics and scattered data sheets on the floor. „Why were you locked in, and floating facedown in that tank? Spill it!”
Everything’s smashed… I sit up. Just look at that mess! My work! „I-I dunno.” Six months research! What happened here? “Wires?” What am I hooked up to? A defibrillator unit… „How many shocks did I get?”
“One to 250 and three to 310 Joules. Jumpstarting you wasn’t easy. I might have cracked or broken some of your ribs.” He looks at his hands, as if they were bloody. “It looked like you wouldn’t make it.”
„Explains why I feel like a schnitzel…”
Eddy’s eyes search for mine. I can’t stand the look. „Who did this?”
Why was I fully dressed, if I was doing a hibernation experiment? “I’m sorry—„ I start pulling off the electrodes of my chest and back. “I can’t remember. All I know is… I was testing new chemical compounds.” My first accident ever. Cardiac arrest is not an option… Strix Genome won’t be pleased with my near-death-experience… Of course, this is not the first accident with hibernation research anyway. CPR is taking long, which means that my electrolyte metabolism is off balance… Where is my safe guard? Where is Proto?
“You mean, you did this on purpose?!” Eddy bellows. “You little prick! You asshat! You were DEAD! No breathing! No pulse! What do you call that?! Fuckin’ power-napping?” Oh-uh. That shade of red can’t be healthy. A human volcano is going to spit a ball of anger right into my face.
“Eddy, I’m sorry.” He grabs my torn shirt and pulls me up to his face, lips tightening.”- Really sorry. Okay?”
“–NO! What if I hadn’t pulled you out in time? Or the liquid destroyed your lungs? There are no prosthetics on board! And you are THE doctor. IDIOT! Even downloading and printing would take nearly half a day!” He lets go and turns to leave, but has some powder left. He’s not done. „Where’s your lapdog? Where is Proto? Isn’t it supposed to watch your back? PROTO? Where are you hiding, you little shit?”
“HE is doing research. I sent him.” At least, I think I did.
The captain turns to the surveillance panel in the medical unit. „Don’t make me laugh! Babe? Who’s on board?”
„Captain, Edward Wong. Doctor, Oscar Wellington. My robot pilots, ninety-six maintenance robots, and my neural hub.” The Sleipnir answers in a flat tone.
„See?” Eddy gives me the I-told-you-so-look. „Where is Proto?” he asks.
„Proto is – not on board.” WHAT?! „His suit is – not on board. Scanning… Scanners are jammed.” Another I-told-you-so-look.
No! Where is Proto? He is priceless! He is a being between an AI and a human clone. A miracle, if you ask me. For the captain, he’s just an AI, in a meat suit…
With a soft purring of the Sleipnir interrupts. “Warning. Warning. Collision imminent.”
“What the hell is going on?!” The captain shouts sprinting out of my lab.
pic by Nasa, the black knight satellite
Alec, the (war)time-tours guide
A Chuck Wendig prompt - create a character
Ah, is this gonna be one of those interviews? I’ll have none of that. Thanks.
Of course I know what you wanna ask! ‘Sex, age, job, full name and shoe size? Pimples on my ass?’ Well?
I’m a time traveller. Obviously. Did I just stutter? Could you stop wasting my time? You know what?
Shut up! I’ll talk. I tell you something people never ask. I travel through time. Yes. I sounds insanely badass and mysterious, but it’s horrible.
I can’t shake off the wooziness. I’m nauseous nearly all day. Can’t eat or drink too much, cause I throw up. I have to eat a lot of sweets, so my brain doesn’t crash after a jump.
My hands shake whenever I get stressed, and I’m stiff in the morning. Not the good kind of stiff. My cold joints hurt, my back aches and it stops when I’m moving. So I have to move. Constantly.
I have to run, jog so I can walk properly.
Nightmares are my routine.
How’d you feel, if you’d forget your daughter’s first steps, or her birth? Yes, I’ve been there. Seen her, laughed with her, hugged her, nuzzled with her and sucked in her sweet scent… Tell me, would you trade those memories? For money? For some egomaniacs, who plays war-safari and kill, without risks? Cause they’ve got privilege, ‘n enough money to buy themselves the right to kill people.
I want to throw up, every time I see one of those sleek suits.
It’s a disease. The doctors call it temporal multi-sensorial memory runaway. A special kind of retrograde amnesia.
But you’ve heard of time traveller’s disease, haven’t you?
There you go. Now do something with that!
Meet Steve Garner, the rotten golden apple
A Chuck Wendig Prompt - create a character (about 250 words) Hint: The man answering the phone is Steve Garner.
“`Llo?” The man answering the phone sounds drained. His crumpled voice seeps through the landline.
“Hi. I am Vincent.”
“So?” Drowsiness dissipates slowly, “nobody’s perfect.”
“You’re looking for me.”
“Am I?” A soft slapping noise in the distance, “enlighten me. Please.”
“Do you remember Mr. Stanculescu and his two daughters?” Vincent waits for a response. No recognition on the other end, so he continues, “you know, the strange girl with the red mane and green eyes, one missing upper incisor? Was all over the newspapers.” Nothing. “The one legged kid, who disappeared for three days?” Silence. “The cabin at Lake Eden?”
“Oh. Lake Eden! Of course!” The voice tightens, picks up momentum and rhythm. “I remember laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, just imagine that. A one legged kid hopping around on the shore and the woods, like an oversized toad– ”
“I brought her back.” The amused chuckle fades into stunned silence.
“You? You– ” The man stutters in disbelief, “did that?” A sharp clacking sound echoes. Porcelain hitting porcelain, or maybe teeth hitting teeth. “How fast can you be here?Where can we meet?”
“You remember him now, huh? He says it’s important…”
“Yes, absolutely.” The breathed voice cracks. It is a bit too fast, for someone still needing to negotiate a fee. The man proceeds to attack. “May I invite you? No limits, just tell me what you need. A room, a flight, cars, booze, women… Men. You name it.”