Children of the Night…
I thought I was alone as I silently entered the house, but a voice caught my ear, making me freeze.
“Funny thing about gaining immortality, it can happen to anyone, at any time, whether it is wanted or not…”
I turned, seeing nobody around at first, then I spotted a small girl sitting in the corner, facing away from where I stood, seemingly oblivious to me as she played with her dolls. Had she been here the whole time?
“I met a strange man one night, who claimed he was a predator… but he wasn’t after lusts of the flesh like most who were called such. No, he wanted something… more vital.” It indeed was the girl who was speaking, for she continued as she looked up at me, eyes turning eerily luminous… and red. “But, that was three thousand years ago…” She smiled now, and her too-long and too-sharp teeth gleamed…
(#00653 - A288)
“Ah,” I said. “You must be the permanent installation the realtor told me about. Hello. My name’s Melanie Brisko. What’s yours?”
The little vampire boggled, fangs withdrawing back into hiding. “You’re supposed to scream,” she said. “They all scream…”
“I’ve frequently mourned that I’m not like all the other girls,” I smiled for her. “It’s high time that that sort of thing became beneficial. Can you eat human food, or is blood all that you can subsist on?”
Haunted eyes. “I… don’t know. After everyone went away I lived on rats. And when the rats went away I lived on pigeons. And when the pigeons went away…” she hugged her favourite doll tight. After three thousand years of being loved, it was showing the strain. “I can hypnotise deer. They come right up to me.”
“That’s a very useful talent,” I said, setting up. “Does your hair grow?”
A dumbfounded stare. “You’re supposed to be scared. You’re supposed to be afraid of me. Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
“I’m too busy being afraid of cities and crowds. You? You’re a little girl who’s sorely in need of a bath, fresh clothes, and a good combing. Then we can work on some hot food and probably some sorely needed cuddles.”
“Why? I’m a monster.”
“I’m of the opinion that being monstrous doesn’t necessarily make one a monster. With love and care and attention to your needs, you could become a reformed citizen.”
“I’ll try it,” she said. “I’ll probably eat all your blood tomorrow.”
“That’s why I bought the pigs.”
Since neither of us knew about her hair, it took quite a few baths and washings to get all the tangles out. Were it not for her paleness, she could have passed as any other little girl with her long brown hair in pigtails.
I fixed up her dolls for her, of course. And thanks to satellite internet, I was able to fix up the house and some of the caves that had been converted into living space in ages past. She took the name Grace, and she flourished in my care.
That was how it began. Four hundred years ago, now. Oh, I don’t blame her for biting me. The poor darling needs a mother. And I was mortal.
We keep the pigs for when we need blood. They’re immune to the vampiric virus. For the rest of the time we could almost pass as normal humans.
Almost.
Let’s just say that there’s a reason we don’t allow our photos to be taken. Just like there’s a reason we don’t go out in the sunshine without heavy protection.
Now don’t panic. See? This is why we don’t tell people about us. I can assure you, you’re perfectly safe. That asparagus? I feed it to our guests to make sure my Grace doesn’t get it into her head to add members to our little family. Changes your flavour. Makes you… unappetising.
And anyway, we’re going out to talk to the deer. Sweet dreams.
[Muse food remaining: 41. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Magnificently Horrible
(inspired by the recent development of nailpolish that helps detect date-rape drugs when a finger is dipped in the drink, though, understandably, you don’t need to use that for the writing-inspiration)
“Like a lot of things in this world, it is wonderful that this finally exists, but also terrible that it needs to exist.”
(#00650 - A285)
It looked like a simple brain mod. Just another circuit in a world full of integrated circuits designed to merge with the nerve cells of the brain and enhance its performance.
“This is a game? Augmented reality, right?”
“Not quite,” explained the inventor. “We market it as a game. But what it actually does is detect all the social minefields and help the user avoid them.”
“For example?”
“Did you ever get laid while you were drunk at a party?”
“Pft. Yeah. Sure. Good fun.”
“Were you sure that your partner wanted it?”
“Uuuuuhhhh…”
“That’s where this little beauty takes over. It does augment reality, but it gives you vital information. Like your prospective partner's actual age, blood alcohol content, and whether or not they’re actually interested in having sex with you. It takes all the guesswork out of hooking up.”
“So… if she’s drunk and underage, a little stop sign pops up.”
“Yup! And if you go ahead and do the do, your location and details are sent to the police so they can arrest you for statutory rape and her for underage drinking.”
“That’s grea– waitasecond. What?”
“It applies to all forms of rape, of course. It is a crime. And just like any other crime, it’s immediately reported to the authorities with video feed, location, and all that other information.”
Outrage. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s a crime. Stopping crime is a good thing. And the users can’t claim ignorance, because of all the little signs popping up in their field of view.”
“That’s horrible!”
“And necessary. People are ignoring plain biodata now. A system of checks, balances, and immediate punishment should prove very efficacious. Plus it clearly labels anyone who treats their desired gender like trash, so they can avoid the offender.”
A long, evaluating stare. “You’re actually proud of yourself for doing this, aren’t you?”
“Are you saying you’d get caught by this system?”
“…uuuuuuuuuuhhhh…”
[Muse food remaining: 42. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Next book underway!
I try to wait a week after writing my last book to start on the next one, but… I surrendered to the temptation. And just finished the first thousand words.
Why?
Because my next book is called Kung Fu Zombies, that’s why.
In my next eight months, I shall be looking intensely at Zombie Tropes, Kung Fu Tropes, and Romance Tropes and gleefully destroying as many of them as I can inside of 120 000 words.
I already have lined up:
- no indication of love interest’s reciprocal interest until the sudden smooch-reveal in the middle of the movie
- zombies are walking corpses
- training montage of awesome
- three guys and a token girl
- token sassy POC
- exploding cars
- REM’s End of the World must play
- only the ‘proper’ people survive [aka: the disabled, the queer and the POC get it before any white cismen do]
- technomage asians
- foreign mysticism is better
- the armed forces save our central band of heroes
- the sole survivors are the hero, his love interest, a kid and a dog
- deus ex machina at the end
If you - yes you - have any hated tropes that fit the theme of the book [and I bet you can guess the theme of the book] feel free to use that ask button to send me the trope of your nightmares. I will then tell you if it’s on or going on my little list.
Challenge #00643 - A278: Culinary Compromise
Why would you hate the [species]? The [species] aren’t eating everyone because they’re evil, they’re eating everyone because they’re fucking delicious.
“We need the meat alive for surviving,” said the Horg Captain. Griis. “Is forever the way.”
Of all the deathworlders they had ever met, these were on the most extreme scale. Their world was so badly a class five that it almost qualified for new categorisation as the first and only known class six. Before they left their planet, the chief survival tactic was breed like flies and eat anything that didn’t get out of the way fast enough.
They were only hunting other life because of a plague amongst their chief food animal. Selective breeding and monocultures had almost wiped out their food. And their metabolisms were like suns. They didn’t have the time to cook.
“Get all the tank meat, vacu-pack it and ship it over,” ordered Captain Jezebel. “Let’s see how they like steak.”
“On it, sir. The crew isn’t going to like Nutri-Food bags on the way home.”
“The crew can suck it for a week.” To the Horg, she said, “We’re sending over some high-density protein in a drone shuttle. If you can eat that, we have some factory planets growing this stuff in bulk. And in the meantime… let’s talk metabolic stabilisers…”
The Horg took their first Ambassadorial conference at the tables of Heretical Food Eat, where they could safely devour any protein they chose without the need for death.
Captain Jezebel ordered a Humanburger to show willingness. Griis had a family sample platter.
“See? You can digest cooked things faster. My species discovered this in the stone tool era. Cooked takes time, but cooked works better.”
“Liking cooked much,” agreed Griis. “Liking other world technology. Liking many of shiny things.”
“Yes. Ordinarily, eating intelligent people -cogniphagy- is a big no-no. This is cultured meat. Grown from donor cells. No death. No crime. All good.” And damnit… people were delicious. “There are two ways you can approach fitting in to the Galactic Alliance. Gengineering, medication, or medication used in combination with gengineering and selective breeding. Medication alone means that the rest of the Alliance will avoid you.”
“Liking many of shiny things,” Griis played with her fork. “Trade must be good, yes?”
“Oh yes. Trade very good. But trade won’t happen if everyone thinks of you as mindless eating machines. You have new situations. New planets. You can afford to curb your appetites.”
“Forever way ending, new forever way is needing.”
“Yeah, you get it. Now all we have to do is convince your elite to go along with it.”
“Not be hard much,” said Griis. “Sending freighter of grown meat. Plenty good peace offering.”
Captain Jezebel became the Horg’s sponsor. She was forever quoted as saying, “They’re not bad. They’re just hungry.”
[Muse food remaining: 44. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00642 - A277: Forbidden Fruit
Heresy is Delicious. Don’t believe me? Put Kosher mustard on a ham and cheese sandwich and find out for yourself!
“So… you decided to open a restaurant on the greater thoroughfare of the business district.”
“That is correct,” said the lizard.
“All the forms and paperwork are correct… but you also decided to sell foods ordinarily under social and religious restrictions.”
“That is also correct. Cogniscent Shayde performed the idea in public.”
“Open Mic Night at the Tunnel Cafe?” said the technical-human in question. “I was doin’ a stand-up routine…”
Sherlock glared at her. “We’ve spoken before about your ‘heresy is delicious’ chain of thought.”
“I even had a wee card up. 'Don’t take anythin’ the human says seriously’. Just in case they missed the whole point o’ stand up.”
“Yes, well after some research and legal consultation–”
Sherlock groaned in anticipation.
“–I came to the conclusion that a wide variety of taboos are, in fact, delicious. Hence, heretical foods.”
“Including,” Sherlock consulted his info-stream. “Cultured cogniscent flesh.”
“From willing donors!” The lizard put up hir hands in protest. “It’s all certified and sealed.”
“You do know that there are planets who have recently reformed from cogniphagy,” said Sherlock. “The eating of cogniscent life forms is illegal.”
“Er. Actually. The law states that killing a cogniscent for the purposes of eating them is illegal. No death is involved in my cultured meat. You can still talk to all my donors. I was completely transparent.”
“And then there’s the matter of Brav'nu…” Sherlock maintained his iron glare. “Citizens there believe that sharing the flesh of a passed loved one is a form of hand-me-down immortality, as well as remembrance. How many Brav'nu citizens came to you seeking a way to cheat their spiritual system?”
“I’m aware of their theology, sir,” said the lizard. “Once I explained the details, they lost interest.”
Sherlock sighed. “I have hundreds of Ambassadors up in arms because their fellows from home are up in arms about your menu. There is nothing, strictly speaking, illegal about the food. And, unfortunately, you are well within your rights to maintain your restaurant.”
“Thank you.”
“However, I am also obligated to remind all visitors that it is also well within their rights to refuse to patronise your business.”
Now the reptilian face fell. “Oh…”
“Next time,” said Shayde, “Pay attention to the wee card.”
[Muse food remaining: 45. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00641 - A276: BSOD
Emergency Brain error reboot Y/N
Error encountered at local clock 13:25:57
Erasing subsequent data
Restarting from automatic backup…
The spinning wheel annoyed her as she waited in etherspace for her hardware and software to agree on a stepstone. It was one thing she had in common with the organics.
Sound came first, as the audio receptors booted up. Her assistant was explaining the boot-up process and the need for lexicon patches to the luckless cogniscent who had said the wrong thing.
“I’m so sorry,” said Ambassador Belle. “I didn’t know she wasn’t pun-proof. I thought it’d break the ice. I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?”
Her cameras came online out-of focus, and her servos were laggy. Her speakers made a grinding noise before she could stop it.
“No, it does not hurt,” said E.M.I. “This unit only senses physical damage. Please refrain from lexical pit-traps in the future.” Self-assessment routines took up the next few minutes. “I’m missing three minutes’ worth of data. I assume that’s when the pun was told?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
E.M.I. adjusted her face-screen to show a pleasant smile. “Now,” said the Emergency Medical Interface. “Without jokes, what is the problem?”
[Muse food remaining: 46. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00640 - A275: One Fine Evening in a Filthy Spaceport Bar
We believe that the universe itself is conscious in a way that we can never truly understand. It is engaged in a search for meaning. So it breaks itself apart, investing its own consciousness in every form of life. We are the universe trying to understand itself.- Delenn, Babylon 5
“Well that doesn’t make sense,” said Hwell. He, too, was propping up a bar and ingesting something bad for him. “Humans, we all well know, are insane. Lots of them spend their entire lives in a bubble of ignorance that they made for themselves.”
“Well, yes,” said the other human. “That’s what I’m trying to work out. Is it the universe compartmentalising? Is that why there are so many human colonies? Is the universe going mad?”
Hwell glared at the man. “Someone’s going to have to rock me to sleep, tonight. Thanks for that.”
“Self-awareness is a bitch,” shrugged the other human. “Sorry.”
“Shoulda never got involved in religion or politics…” Hwell mumbled into his pint. “Here’s one - how about all this effort’s made the universe go bonkers or given it cancer or something? We’re a tumour.”
The other human glared back and delivered a flat and snarky, “Thanks.”
Hwell chuckled. “Gotta give as good as you get.”
[Muse food remaining: 45. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00639 - A274: An Axe to Grind
It was distressing how many problems a good murder could solve.
[AN: According to the doctors, I am now officially fine. According to me, there is still a tightness in my throat that I am going to see my doctor about]
Too many arseholes in the world. Far too many. But if one could select an arsehole to excise from reality… If you could pick the ones who were most to blame for the current, sordid state of reality…
If you could pick off the ones who made their wealth from others’ pain…
Ah, but those are the ones with the most security. They’re the ones who isolate themselves in armour-plated ivory towers. The ones who think they’re safe.
But they still let people like me in. To clean for them. To dress their hair or do their makeup or their nails. To ensure that their life of leisure is never besmirched by a mote out of place.
They trust people like me.
More fool them.
It’s an easy thing, to come in when expected. Easier still to find some expensive treat and add a little extra touch.
A virus here. A pathogen there. A little arsenic for old time’s sake. Never the same way twice. Never working for the same company twice. Sometimes it’s advantageous to be so poor that one can only ever get temp work.
And one by one they fall. While invisible me carries on as always. Weeding out the true scum of the earth.
One rich asshole at a time.
Sooner or later, the money will go to someone who wants to do good with it. All I have to do is bide my time, weigh them up and, once I have found them wanting… administer justice.
All the others want to be caught because they know they’re doing something bad. Most of these arseholes? Nobody will miss what they do very much. Nobody really cares. Not about them.
[Muse food remaining: 45. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00638 - A273: Capitalism
It’s like selling people a gold nugget, then a silver nugget with gold covering, then you get a copper one with gold covering, the next version they sell you a iron Nugget with gold paint before selling you a glass marble calling it the ‘next big thing’.
“It’s all about makin’ stuff faster and cheaper, but no’ necessarily better. It’s about convincin’ the customers that faster an’ cheaper is better, ye ken. But never dropping’ the price tae how much it costs tae make.”
The assembled cogniscents stared.
A lizard tentatively raised her hand. “Sir?”
“Aye?” said Shayde. The ‘sir’ still irked her, but everyone superior got 'sir’ regardless of gender, so she did her utmost to shut up about it.
“You’ve just described standard business practices on all of the extant Greater Deregulations.”
“Aw Gawd, it’s still alive…” muttered Shayde. “Have they figured out why they cannae convince all o’ ye tae buy their shit?”
“No, but they are trying to bribe the officials they believe are responsible.”
“And complaining about it at every Ambassadorial Meet.”
Shayde groaned. “I’m no’ goin’ tae be looking’ forward tae tha’…”
[Muse food remaining: 44. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
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