604 & 702 | Part 3

- Prompt 21 of 30 -

Comproller 604 sat in the dark, pinching the bridge of his nose agianst the now-omnipresent grinding rattle. How did it come to this? he wondered, yet knowing even as the question formed that he could no longer avoid giving the unthinkable order to breach the surface.

- Start -

He looked to 702. She looked tired. She had carried him all this way, but nevertheless persisted. They had survived the Outbreak, they had secured a holdout - They had even found the crack that Legion had opened. None of it wouldn't have happened without her. But 604 knew that she could never go this far - she couldn't bring herself to hold such a burden as this.

But 604 could. He could run the numbers, he could see the world for the facts - and keep the morality out of it. At least he hoped he could. All of the surviving 'Gineers were counting on him, and he was leading them to what might end up being certain death.

Here they stood, at the edge of the crack in the Wall. It was large enough to fit through one at a time - and through it one could only see the darkest of void. They had tried to make it larger, but all efforts proved fruitless. Whatever method Legion had at their disposal was beyond the survivor's capability, and they would have to make due with what they had.

They had known of its existence for weeks now, but could only watch until now. the horde of Legion had been swarming the area for about a month, as they poured one-by-one into some unsuspecting world. They had lost a scouting party or two, but the RE-Furbished did not seem to pay them all that much mind. 702 suspected that they had run their course in this world, and that crossing the Wall into others took a much higher priority. The survivors would either die out or assimilate once Legion had taken care of the other Instances.As soon as the last one had crossed over, the survivors had gone to work.

The plan wasn't complicated: Find a world where Legion had yet to arrive. Initial readings indicated that the crack would only allow for a one way trip - Once you crossed over you wouldn't be able to detect it. Leave it to RnD (or what remained of it) to whip up a prototype device that would harmonize with it's home Instance's frequency in a matter of days. With that, a small scouting party would be able to find their way home after assessing the situation.

604 and 702 had volunteered for the role of scouting party. They were the ones pushing for this mission, and they wouldn't stand for anyone taking the risk on their behalf. A base of operations was set up just outside the rupture, and after a few days they were prepped for their first excursion.

The first world they found was already burning. They didn't bother to check for survivors. They took a moment to take in full what their failure truly meant. An entire world, lost - more so than their own. Every creature now a part of a destructive force - likely beyond recovery.

With the weight of their task sunk in, they made haste with the prototype home-finder. It appeared this world had a 12 degree shift in comparison to their own. This meant a 12 day long journey to tear that would lead them back home. The covered the ground as fast as the could, avoiding the hazards of the dying world.

Returning to their home world was bittersweet. The information they had gathered was incredibly valuable, but that value was tempered by the horror that accompanied it. Despite all this, RnD was able to make the modifications required in order to change the destination world, and a new mission was prepped.

It took four more missions before they found it, a world untouched by Legion.

And so, here they were - the Survivors, the lucky ones. Abandoned by their adversary, now they too would have to leave this world behind. 604 had in some part hoped this day would never come - for beyond this point was war. If this world could be warned of the danger, it would have a chance at fighting back - and his own people would have to lead the charge.

604 turned to the masses gathered behind him. There were about 200 of them left, all said and done. They all looked to him, and to 702 - knowing the order he was about to give.

"Fellow 'Gineers!" He shouted. "This is our last chance at stopping the catastrophic system failure known as Legion. We do not know how long we will have before they show up in this new world. It could be seconds after we cross over, it could be days.

702 and I will lead the charge through the rupture and will signal when it is safe to follo-"

His speech was cute short by the sound of cracking stone and twisting metal. The low rumbling and grinding that had accompanied the arrival of Legion - the sounds of the factory dying - grew to a crescendo.

The ground started to shake beneath them, and the crowd of survivors started to panic. They looked to 604, who looked to 702.

She was looking below, to the lowest levels. Her face said it all.

"They weren't all gone, were they."

"No."

604 slammed his fist on the table. He looked back to the survivors. "RUN!" He yelled. "Return to the fortifications! You can defend it from there. We will return."

Their eyes gave all the answer he needed. They knew their part, and he knew his. He watched as they made their way, terrified, but with purpose, back to the hideout they had built. He could see the remnants of Legion now, swarming up the inner sides of the factory, crawling like animals towards the now split survivors.

"We need to act as bait." he said, turning back to 702. "if Legion chases us through the portal, it will give them enough time to setup the defenses."

"And we will be dooming the other world to the same fate we've seen."

"Not if we can move fast enough, which means we have to move now."

"I don't like this, 604."

"I know, but this is all we've got. Trust me?"

"Always."

They ran. Through the tear in the world, and into another.

Hoping, beyond reason, that they'd be able to someday return.

- End -

Sherrif Buck | Part 3

- Prompt 20 of 30 -

Buck paced at the edge of town. Every soul in Mulewater wanted Adam's head on a pole, and Buck knew if he didn't deliver they'd be hollerin' for his next. He peered into the bright heat-haze shimmering off the desert floor. Nobody could survive out there for long, Buck told himself. Adams would be back. Unless the fool tried to get across the Wall...

- Start - 

And Adams might just be desperate enough to try it. Could he pull it off though? Buck asked as he continued to pace. The man wasn't weak, but hadn't been known climbing mountains or anything. Buck had seen a lot over the course of the past few days, so he was wary to brush off the idea on the get out.

"What'a wanna do, Buck?" Ray asked. The kid had calmed down a lot once the town had been fixed up, but he as much as anyone wanted to see Adams pay.

It wasn't as though Buck didn't want to see the man hang for what he'd done - it was loads more complicated than that. Even though he had been the cause for all those...things coming into this world, it wasn't as though the man really meant for it to happen. Who was Buck to bring death upon a man for simply havin' negative thoughts? A lot'a folks would have to come answerin' if thinkin' bad shit became a punishable offense.

On the other hand, there were plenty o' crimes that yellow bellied sonofa' had committed after the fact that more made up for it. On top of that Adams had literally stabbed Buck in the back and left both he and Ray out to die, so there was a little bit a personal justice the sheriff wanted to enact upon the dead man.

"All said," Buck answered, lighting up a cigarette. "I think I'm gonna shoot the bastard. At least a couple of times."

"Good choice, Buck. Let me go tell the elders."

"You go do that. I'll wait here fer ya."

Buck took a nice long drag of his smoke as he watched the kid run back up to the town proper. Not quite a kid, anymore Buck reminded himself. You weren't no kid after you had killed, and Ray had done so in large number. The sheriff wasn't sure if you could count those they had put down as humans, but they had looked enough like 'em for the same feelings to rise up in your belly as you watched the light go outt'a their eyes.

Ray had a talent for it too - shootin', that is. Buck hadn't bothered to count the shots, half on account of bein' afraid he would lose. Ray was the first to notice that they only went down for good if you got 'em in the head. Wasted a lot of his favorite ammo on that mistake.

Running had worked for about half a day, all told. The burning town had given them a good vantage point, and they were able to keep ahead of the main horde of machine-folk while also managing not to get lost or on the wrong side of the greenbelt. If the enemy had been able to get between them and town, leavin' only the desert as a place to run, they'd'a been goners for sure.

Luckily, the runnin' was the easy part. Unluckily, they did not account for another horde to show up as if outt'a thin air and flank the duo back into town. surrounded proper, the boys had holed up in the only building sturdy enough not to have burnt down: The Sherrif's Office.

Buck had suggested givin' up - Ray had slapped him for that. He'd make a good sheriff one day. Buck thought as he took another drag. The slap in the face turned into a small scuffle, which loosen up a floor board or two. Upon investigation, Buck discovered that his father sure did love his armaments.

32 rifles in total, 15 pistols. A few sticks of dynamite, and enough ammo to last for weeks. Why his pa didn't mention he could equip a small militia Buck would wonder forever. In any case, the new development had bolstered the spirits of Buck and Ray, and the readied the defense.

It took a full 8 hours to clear out every single one of those mindless husks. Buck's ears were still ringing, and he didn't expect it to go away anytime soon. There were some close calls, for sure. One had managed to sneak up on Buck, and in the ensuing fight the two of 'em ended up falling at least one story onto a railing. Snapped the spine of the thing he was fightin', but left Buck with a limp he really hoped wasn't permanent.

And despite Ray's high energy and calm demeanor, he wasn't without injury. For his efforts he had been rewarded a gnarly scar straight down his face - where one had tried to claw out his eye.

Despite it all, they had done it. and neither one had died. Cleaning up the bodies and rebuilding the town would be a major effort, but with the town no longer statues it wouldn't take too awful long.

Now, Buck still had a lot of questions all about that whole situation, but the Wytch had told him she would tell him in time - and Ray seemed to understand it a lot better than Buck did, so he was gonna wait. At least until they got this whole Adams situation resolved. One thing at a time. Buck finished his smoke and flicked it to the ground, crushing it under the heel of his boot.

"You ready to go?" He asked as Ray returned from town.

"Sure am." Ray replied. "Elders just ask that you take somethin' from Adams' person as proof of death."

"Fair enough. Now let's get a move on - if that o'l layabout as gone anywhere its the damn Wall."

"You don't think he went to the desert?"

"If he did he's already dead." Buck replied. "If the man has an ounce of self-preservation left in him he's going to try and get over the Wall."

"That'd probably kill 'im just as well."

"Better a probably than a certainty. Grab your pack, it's a long hike."

---

It took about a day to find his tracks. The foothills were a nice change of pace from the plains they had known for the past few days. It didn't look like Adams was tryin' to hide very well either - the first night they had camped in almost exactly the same spot he had. Even used abandoned sleeping roll for extra warmth. This only helped the theory that the man was planning on goin' over.

With the hard part over, all they had to do as follow them to their end. They started a bet to see how far he had gotten, before succumbing to the elements, the wildlife, or himself. Ray bet low - that a man as weak-willed as Adams wouldn't even make it half way. Buck bet high - didn't matter how weak his will was. Fear was the fuel for that mans soul, not will.

As the third day turned to night, they reached the base of the Wall. Sure enough, there were Adams' belongings, discarded. Anything that would weigh him down.

Ray flipped Buck a coin.

"Pistol, Ammo belt, knife." Ray examined the items. "Still has your blood on it, Buck."

Buck stared up at the Wall - the mountain that separated this world from...who knows what? To call it daunting would be a lie. The thing was terrifying. occasional ridges marked the only imperfections in its otherwise smooth stone surface. The thing was boiling hot during the day, and freezing cold at night. If you really wanted to, you could find a way to climb it - at least to start, anyway. That was the true cruelty of it, Buck realized. It would let you try, but you'd never win.

"There is no way that meek creature conquered this beast." Buck said, with only half relief.

"You're right. He tried though." Ray was working at the dirt near the discarded items. "Got a broken ankle for his trouble, too."

"How'd'ya figure?" Buck pressed his hand on the surface of the Wall, feeling its dominance through the palm of his hand.

"There are tracks leading away, but not back towards town."

"Course not."  Buck turned back around. Cigarette already out.  "He's going to the desert."

"Now it's your turn," Ray said, standing back up. "How'd'ya you figure?"

"It's like I said." Buck replied, lighting the smoke. "If he had any self-preservation he'd go to the Wall."

"If he couldn't get over the Wall," Ray seemed to follow. "He'd go to the desert to die."

"Man's a coward to the core." Buck said. "Better to let the sand take him than my gun." 

"Think we can catch him in time?"

"Prolly not, but I've been thinkin' - as much as I want to kill the man myself. It might be even better to know that he died terrified that we were right on his heels."

"You've got some real issues, Buck."

"Yes, yes I do." Buck picked up a couple small sticks from under his feet. "Now lets make camp for the night. We'll let him get comfortable with his head start." 

Ray sighed, but helped in the collection of kindling. "Some real issues, Buck."

"Yeah - issues with bein' stabbed in the back." 

"I was going to say trust, but that fits too."

Well, that too. Buck thought as he lit the fire. But gettin' stabbed sure didn't help those any.

- End - 

 

Tsiann the Quick | Part 5

- Prompt 19 of 30 -

Crystals could do anything. Heal the sick. Levitate a grown man. Purify water. Except near the Wall. Everybody knew they didn't work there, but nobody could explain to Tsiann why.

- Start -

But this one could. This Mage, Virgo he said to call him. Tsiann's new "mentor" - She wasn't happy with the arrangement, especially not after these first few weeks. What was cleaning the tower going to teach her about magic? Why couldn't he just make the magic do the cleaning, if he was so darn powerful? And why, when she had taken the crystal back to the wall where she found it, did it no longer shine? 

She longed to hear the song again - the one she had heard in the wall. It was fading from her mind, she could barely hear the words any longer. The outside felt, normal, again. Tsiann did not like this. But he had promised to answer her questions, as soon as she finished her chores. Tsiann repeated them to herself, not wanting to forget a single one. 

She asked her Mam why the Mage was teaching her in such a weird way, after the first few days of cleaning work. 

"Because men think you have to suffer in order to learn." She had answered matter-of-factly. 

"That's stupid." She had replied.

"Yes it is." Her mother started braiding her hair. "And that's you can practice as much as you'd like when you are home."

"Why can't you just teach me?"

"Because if the other Mages found out," It was always a french braid, only on one side. "They would hunt us down and kill us."

"How would they find us?"

"They are always looking. The only reason we haven't been found yet is Virgo - He's using one of his crystals to hide the magic that is going on here." 

"Why does Virgo want to help us?" 

"A very long time ago I saved his life. Ever since he has done his best to make right by us Wytches."

So the Mage had some good qualities. Tsiann still didn't enjoy the chores. But she would do them, as he asked - as long as she got the answers she wanted. 

---

The night air was cold. It was mid-winter, and the snow was a few inches deep. Virgo had insisted that they come out in the middle of the night, or just before it. He had led her out of the village, about halfway to the Wall. They both stood on the path that led there, bundled in furs and shivering at each other. 

"Why are we out here, Old man?"

"You know I'm not that much older than your mother, right?" 

"She's old too." 

"You've got quite a tongue on you, you know that?"

"My mother taught me well. Why are we out here?"

The Mage laughed, his breath a cloud of white. "Do you really not know of the Wytching Hour?"

"My mam talks about it all the time. How its her favorite of all the hours. I don't know why, though."

"My dear lady," The Mage started, affecting that uppity tone. "The Wytching Hour is when the moon reaches the top of the sky. You can always tell by looking there." He raised a hand and pointed at the very top of his tower. "When the moon and the steeple are in alignment, the Wytching Hour has begun."

"Okay, but what's special about it?" 

"and you said your mother taught you well." Virgo scoffed. "The Wytching Hour is when the connection between Wytches and their magic is strongest - You can even cast magic close to the Wall."

"Oh!" Tsiann's interest in the lesson perked up. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. Why can't crystals, or magic at all, be cast when too close to the Wall?"

"Very good question!" Virgo replied. "Let's continue towards it, and I will answer as we walk." 

---

"The Wall isn't a thing as most people would believe. I think you can tell just by the fact that when the village-folk look at it they see a stark, foreboding barrier made of iron, whereas those of us with Magic see it for what it actually is - pure magical energy. It is the source of all Magic in this world. My power as well as yours. And it is alive, little Wytch."

"I heard it sing to me!" Tsiann added.

"Yes, and you could even enter it - move past it, if you wanted."

"Can't you?"

"Oh, I don't think so." Tsiann watched as one of Virgo's hands quickly moved to hold the other, softly. The same one he had grabbed her with only a few weeks ago, when she almost had fallen out the other side.

"Why not?"

"I am still working on a theory." Virgo moved his hand back to his side - they were almost at the Wall now, and the Wytching Hour.

"But if the Wall is pure Magic, wouldn't that make it easier to cast, not harder?"

"Beyond that Wall," The Mage pointed at the shimmery surface. "Is the Void. A place of pure and utter nothingness. If the wall were to break, all of this world would fall into that nothingnesss and we would be lost forever."

Tsiann cocked her head as she attempted to process the information. "I almost fell into nothingness..."

"Yes, you should count yourself lucky I had been paying attention." They had reached the Wall at this point, and Virgo seemed to be examining it. "To answer your question - I believe that Magic cannot be cast near here in order to prevent some mis-fortunate spell to cause the doom of this world."

"So it's a good thing?"

"Yes, at least on the surface." Virgo brought his hand up to the Wall, revealing it from underneath his robe. The skin looked like ash, and fell from the hand as it moved - turning to dust as it hit the cold night air. As it made contact with the ethereal veil it began to smoke, and the Mage retreated with haste.

"What happened to your hand?"

"The cost of childhood innocence." Virgo laughed. "In any case. You asked me why I brought you out here?"

"And you never answered."

"Keen mind, Wytch."

"Answer, Mage."

"Well, as you can see, it is now the Wytching Hour."

The Mage turned and pointed to his tower. Sure enough, the moon hung directly above the steeple. "I made an agreement with you and your mother, and I intend to keep it."

"We are going to start learning Magic?"

"Oh yes," The Mage replied. "Do you still have the crystal you found?"

"The Opal, yes." Tsiann retrieved it from her pocket, and showed him. "Why?"

"We are going to play a game."

- End -

604 & 702 | Part 2

- Prompt 18 of 30 -

Comproller 604 stood under the ancient faded, yet still majestic portrait of Kavon Goodsmythe, addressing the assembled Gineers: The Mainteks, their servals, Monganers, and all the lower Comprollers too. Their sea of faces looked expectantly for his leadership. To give them direction in this wholly unprecedented crisis. He had none to give, and yet they waited and he must speak. He cleared his throat and began. "Fair Shift to you."

- Start -

"And also with you." The mass of workers called back. 604 couldn't help but smile, He had always wondered what that felt like. Powerful, it turned out. He felt 702's hand land on his shoulder, and the power swelled inside of him.

"My fellow 'Gineers," He channeled that power into words. "I wish I had the words that would show you the way through this dark time, that would lead us to the end of this calamity unscathed. Unfortunately, my skill is in numbers and not words. 

"Here is what the numbers say. This is not the first crisis we have experienced, nor is it the last. We have been tested before, and we will almost surely be tested again - for I know that this is not the test that we fail.

"When our history was lost to us, did we fall?

"No. We followed the Directive. We kept the Instances running. 

"When one of our own sought the destruction of not just our, but all of the worlds, did we fall?

"No. We survived the assault of Legion - and through the leadership of the Great Kavon Goodsmythe we even reclaimed our history, and with it - our identity. 

Now, faced with an unknown Instance suddenly appearing in our Scope, requesting access with ancient keys that send ripples through the deepest bowels of Central. Do you think we will fail?"

604 received a booming "No!" 

"Yes!" He threw his fist into the air. "For I ask you, what is our Directive?"

"To keep the Instances running!"

"This is no more than another Instance, and we will keep it running.

"Will it be hard? Of course it will be. But I, as your elected Director, will lead you through it, as best as I can."

604 paused to take a breath. The hard part was over. "I will be meeting with the heads of every department in the next few cycles to discuss the decryption of these ancient keys. We will also be preparing for to update this new Instance to the latest Firmware. This will require the full and optimized effort of every Department, but is simply part of our job.

Thank you for your trust in me, for all of these years. That is all.

May your Mondays be as Wednesdays,"

"And your Wednesdays be as Fridays." The crowed called back. 

604 left the walkway, and entered the Director's office. He still wasn't used to the feeling, even decades later - of being above. The room had never quite felt like his. 

"Why didn't you become the Director?" He asked 702, flopping onto the ergonomic chair that sat behind the Core Terminal. "You'd be terabytes better than I am at it. In fact, most of what I do is just what you have suggested." 

702 leaned against the clear Alumina housing of the quantum computer. "And that's just the way I like it."

"Is that so?" 604 opened a window into the air in front of him and began to type - The department heads were most likely already waiting on the SCRUM request.

"Oh yes." 702 replied, he could tell with a smirk. "All of the power, none of the responsibility." 

"Sounds like a cushy gig." 

The light-particles of the window he was typing in disrupted as 702 stuck her head through them. "Really, though - its because you are better face than I'll ever be." 

She leaned back and gestured to the Divisions below them. "If I had just given that speech, there would have been a riot. I would have told them to get being a wuss and get to work - that they'd know more when I felt like it, and they could just shove off.

You see, terrible speech." 

604 chuckled at that. "So you're the brains and I'm the face?" 

"Hasn't that always been the case?" 

"Fair point." 

"Its why we are an unstoppable pair - why we were able to find the other Instances again in the first place. Its what led us to Kavon, and to the defeat of Legion. I can tell them what's wrong, but you can make them want to fix it." 

604 finished the request and closed the window. "Did you think my speech worked?"

702 nodded. "I mean, the are always going to be trolls. There is no doubt going to be some response from the No Vacancy commitee, but the are a bunch of mouth-breathers who don't understand a fraction of how this system works. 

"But when I looked out to the sea of 'Gineers - the ones who mattered. The department heads, the subject experts, the Cogs of the Core. They hung on your every word - they will follow you as far as this takes us." 

"Speaking of which, have you heard anything from Inquiry?" 

"As a matter of fact, I do." 702 pulled up a window from her terminal implant, sliding it over into 604's view. He read it over as she continued her brief. 

"From our best guess at translating the ancient protocols, this is an old Instance. Very old. Possibly one of the original Instances. We have scribes going over the data on full cycle, but if this is true, there are some interesting implications."

"An Instance that has been cut off for even longer than the others. That does raise some concerns." 

"Further adding to the confusing nature of this situation, is the fact that they are requesting access to us, not the other way around." 

"Possibly an incredibly adept Wytch, who's reach finally picked up our frequency?"

"That is what we are thinking." 

604 examined the translated file. "There's this word that keeps being referenced, I am not familiar with it." 

"Can you comment it out and send it back over?" 

He did. 

"Ah, yes." 702 nodded. "That appears to be the original designation of the Instance, defined by the Directive."

"Interesting. How do you say it?"

"Apocalypse." 

"Very archaic. What does it mean." 

"No idea." 

- End -

Arcadia | Part 1

- Prompt 17 of 30 -

Being a "Larpie", as they called themselves, was a great gig. Fun people, fun costumes, good benefits. Until corporate went broke, the visitors stopped coming, and nobody ever bothered to tell the staff what was going on. Or come get them.

- Start -  

Arcadia - a marvel of human engineering. The first commercially viable application of Pocket Universes. Of course, when given the opportunity to play God, Humanity chose to make a theme park. 

"Live-in Immersive Fantasy Experience", as they called it. But we all knew that was just a fancy new word for theme park. There was some initial backlash against the technology - there always is. The existential dread caused by having to accept that we could now create whole new universes - albeit very small ones - was a hard pill to swallow. As is always the case, however, the masses couldn't help themselves and Arcadia was soon booming. 

The park itself was broken up into what they called "Instances." Each one a pocket universe, devoted to a specific genre or flavor of fantasy world. There were the Classics: Land of Magic, Cyber Punk Future, Gunslinger's Western. After those came the more niche: Crime Noir, Hack3rL4nd. Eventually, for a large sum of money you could even have a private Instance spun up just for your specific desire. This was a popular option for business lunches, birthday parties, and sometimes more deviant activities. The public was in love with this new attraction. Finally, the world you had always dreamt of living in was a reality. You could visit for a day, a week - hell even a year if you had the funds. 

If the public was in love, the employees were enthralled. Arcadia attracted the kind of folks who didn't have much a life in the "real" world. The kind who struggled to find work, the ones with ideas a little far ahead of the pack - or a brain stuck in a bygone era. All of these folks now had a place that would accept them. 

The risks were obvious, but unimportant. Yes, it might be dangerous to live permanently inside of a pocket universe, but you could also get hit by a bus. These people we finally happy, and they weren't going to let anyone take that from them. 

The "Larpies" - an older term from role-playing circles - assimilated into the worlds that they chose. They played up whatever genre they lived in, pulling out all of the stereotypes they grew up falling in love with. Even during closing hours, many would stay in character. Putting on the show for each other.

Central didn't seemed to mind. These outcasts were half the reason the draw to the park was so big, and as long as Monitoring kept reporting increasing profits who were they to stop the fun? They even made some of the performers Admins - giving them access to Root-level commands that could make changes to an Instance if needed. They called themselves "Wytches" after a few of them realized it sounded like they were casting spells when the accessed a Terminal.

That's not to say there wasn't some division between Central and the other Instances. Being a part of the largest commercial venture in the history of mankind was a very stressful job, coupled with all of the same risks as living in one of the fantasy worlds but without any of the delusion, lead to a lot of jealousy towards those who worked the "front-end". 

It certainly didn't help that the corporation that owned Arcadia insisted on referring to its employees by their position and ID number, and constantly described their workforce with terms like "Machines" and "Cogs". After some complaints, they did add "Intelligence Engines" but that felt more like a slap in the face more than anything else. 

Despite these problems, things at the park were good. Numbers were high, accidents were small and minimal - and moral within the workforce was high on average. 

And then they lost an Instance. One minute, filled with happy park-goers and employees. The next, gone. Worse yet, Central couldn't accurately say whether it had collapsed or they simply had lost the ability to access it. Imagine having to tell families that their loved ones might be trapped forever, maybe not even realizing it.

The public outcry was sharp and furious. Some wanted heads to roll, others wanted the park to shut down in its entirety. Arcadia attempted to recover, implementing a prototype "Smart" AI that would monitor for anomalies and fix them when they occurred, but that just fueled the anti-technology sentiment that was building. 

Corporate had a call to make. Go down with what was obviously a sinking ship, or pivot into a new industry. In all but a few weeks all presence of Arcadia was removed from public eye. After a few months, the outraged moved on to a new nefarious organization, and the tragedy of Arcadia was forgotten. 

It would have been great if someone told the employees. 

But now? a thousand years later? Not even they remembered, and they liked it that way.

- End -

Eddie Rizz | Part 2

- Prompt 16 of 30 - 

Eddie Rizz. King of the table. Fastest stick in southie, and in it up to his cue-balls with the Capo. Ya shouldn'ta oughtta made a bet so big, Rizzy, He chided himself. 'Specially not one you was gonna win. Time to run. 

- Start -  

In this place, creating a distraction was going to be a bit harder than Eddie was used to. Everything was made of glass or steel, and very securely bolted to the ground, so flipping a drink table was out of the question. Tripping a waiter had always served him well in the past, but that was much more difficult when all of the wait staff was hovering.

C'mon Rizz. He thought, hoping for some inspiration. He was far from home, and even further from confidence. He scanned the room, trying to find something he could use. A quick look back at the table revealed an angry Capo - or whatever you called them here - just moments away from calling some goons.

"Where'd you say your from again, friend?" That was the purple one talking - the one who had just lost a lot of his organizations money to an out-of-towner. He had four arms, which Eddie had thought would serve him better, and desperately hoped would perform just as well when it came time for a beat down.

"Elsewhyre - Planet 3, little backwater place." Eddie felt his foot hit something hard on the ground. Looking down he saw what looked like a plug-in, but much more, more really.

"Never heard of it."

"Not many people, have. Very remote. Lots of Pool tables." Eddie followed the cord with his eyes to the underside of the table. From there it spread out to all the others. Looked like it was what was making them all lit up and fancy.

"You look like you've got some place to go."

"Do I?" Eddie counted the goons in the room. Five, maybe? "Funny you mention that."

Eddie reached down and grabbed the end of the cord that was running into the socket and pulled, as hard as he could. The thing ripped from the floor in a spray of sparks, and every table went dark. He couldn't see a damn thing, and he hoped that none of them could either.

---

Ya never learn, do you? he scolded himself as he ran out the back of the parlor and into the alley. It was dark and industrial, with pipes and steam and crackling electricity to be found in abundance. A stark contrast to the bright neon and glass of the pedestrian areas that flanked him. From the sounds of the commotion back inside, most of the goons had taken his bait and were running out the front to go find him. That gave him at least a minute or two to come up with phase two of his getaway plan.

It wasn't his fault, really. Eddie had been doing a great job of layin' low - he stayed away from all criminal organizations, never took any jobs that weren't strictly on the up and up. Since his "relocation" he had made a real effort to make a good life for himself. He even started wearing ties.

And then he found out that this world had pool. What was he supposed to do but find out what kind of amazing advancements folks had made in this weird, future world? It took him a month or so to get a feel for the lighter cues - they were made from somethin' called "Nano-tubes" and were virtually indestructible. The rest was just bells and whistles - fancy clear balls on a rough glass table did nothin but make you feel special.

And what kind of luck that the first night he decided to try out some gamblin' that the poor schmuck he picked happened to be some sort of space-fairing crime boss with four arms and no skill? He hadn't even meant to con him, it just sorta ended up that way. So maybe a little his fault then. A learning experience.

If he made it out alive.

It would be best if you did.

There was also that. Apparently, once you've had a run in with The Wall you'll never be rid of it. At least it had gotten less soul shaking-ly loud.

We've been working on it. 

They'd both experienced some character growth. The sounds of more-clever-than-average thugs getting closer told Eddie that he needed to think, and think fast.  

Enough time wasting, He thought, wasting precious processing time Where do I go?

To the left and right risked running into the goons, and going through one of these alley doors risked getting the cops - or whatever equivalent this world had for law enforcement - called. Worse if whoever he startled chose fight instead of flight. 

That left either up or down. Though he rather enjoyed a nice view, it wouldn't really get him anywhere.

Down it is, then. This world has some of the best waste management systems I've ever seen. 

I'll be sure to take the scenic route, Eddie thought back to it, as he unlocked the pressurized hatch to the sewers. 

---

The Wall hadn't been lying. It was downright clean in here. Eddie adopted a leisurely pace. He had shut the hatch behind him, and was fairly certain the goons hadn't figured out his ruse quite yet. As it stood this might be his best getaway yet. He made his way down the service walkways, his boots making a soft clang on the grated metal that was suspended above the enormous pipes that snaked below for what seemed like miles. 

One mile below is the district that Fez was from.

Eddie laughed. A fitting name then. "You seem quite sentimental tonight," He replied. Sometimes it was easier when he felt like he was actually talking to someone. 

Yes. 

'Good talk." At least he tried. 

Eddie focused his attention back on the task at hand: Where the hell was he going to go? He didn't have many contacts in this city, and he didn't know how far the offended goon's power reached. He showed off like a Capo might, but didn't have the aura. Probably someone in middle management with lots of ambition. Which meant it might all blow over, or follow Eddie like the plague. 

There are twelve other planets in this Instance.

That was an idea, but Eddie didn't think he was quite ready for spaceflight. All of this future stuff was a bit much to take in all at once. 

"What about Garbage Town?" Eddie asked, feeling a light bulb switch on in what was usually a very dark brain. "There much crime there?" 

Most criminals have more dignity than to be caught seen in Garbage Town.

"Sounds like a perfect place for me then." Convenient too - he'd been meaning to make his way there at some point. One last favor to do for Fez. It wasn't too hard for Eddie to find the ladder to lower levels - the place was truly a feat of engineering, at least as far as sewers went. A mile of climbing didn't sound like the best experience ever, though. 

Second best getaway, then. He chuckled as he started the descent. 

---

Are you sure about this? 

"Yes." Eddie answered. standing in front of the door he believed to be Fez's old haunt. It had taken the greasing of a few palms to get the info, (guy would make a good Capo, if you asked Rizz.) but all signs pointed to here. And one particularly gnarly looking rat person. He was still gettin' used to that - the aliens and mutants. You don't just acclimate to rats the size of you walking around so easy, ya know? 

He knocked. The door opened a crack, the chain-lock pulled taut. Eddie saw the face of an old lady-rat peek out. 

"We don't want any." 

"Don't want yet business anyway." He replied out of habit. Eddie hoped that slum slang was as universal as hustling pool. 

The door closed, and he heard the familiar sound of the chain sliding from the lock. The door opened again, this time all the way. The lady who opened leaned a hand on her hip. As unsettling as her appearance was, Rizz felt a twang of relief - like he was back home. Only with flying cars and rat-people. 

"You gonna spend all day with your gab open or?" 

"Oh! yes, sorry mam." The familiar sound of criticism broke Eddie's trance "I'm not from around here, but I do know your boy Fez." 

"That no-good un-grateful slob!" The woman yelled, throwing her hands up. "Ups and goes without a word to his mother, and then sends some schmuck to come tell me!?" 

"He wanted me to give you this." Eddie replied, reaching into his jacket. Fez had almost forgot, running back through the wall to give it to him. He pulled out a slip of plastic, about the size of a movie ticket, and handed it to her. "Said it was fer doin such a good job raisin' him." 

"He said what?" The den-mother immediately stopped her tirade, replacing it with tears. "That scamp. Always knew how to get out of trouble." 

"Still does, mam." Eddie gave a smile. "Only reason I'm here is cause of that skill of his."
 

"So nice of you to come all this way." She reached out and grabbed the slip from him, examining it in the light. "He didn't." 

"What is it?" Eddie hadn't been able to figure out the writing on it. 

"Its an all-paid trip to Paradis," The light in her eyes could make you forget the buck teeth. "You know the planet? the one with only beaches?" 

"Never been there, myself." 

"Oh, I've heard such great things." She hugged the ticket close to her chest. "I can't believe that boy. What'd you say your name was?" 

"Eddie, mam." Eddie reached out his hand to shake. "Eddie Rizzetti." 

"Eddie! what a fun, weird name!" The woman responded by pulling him into a hug.   

"Any friend of my boy Fez is always welcome in my house." She started to move inside the house, still connected to Eddie's hand. "You must be hungry. Tell me what that bastard's been up to. You know he never calls?" 

Eddie laughed as he followed this strange woman into an even stranger house, that sat in the strangest slum he had ever seen. On a different Planet - a whole different Dimension. 

And yet, this was starting to feel exactly like home. 

- End -

 

Tsiann the Quick | Part 4

- Prompt 15 of 30 -

No. The answer was no. The blue crystal, the one Tsiann had risked so much for, wasn't powerful enough after all, and now her poor Mam was sure to die.

- Start -  

"I'm not going to die, child." Her Mam told her as the Mage chuckled in the background. "What ever gave you that idea?" 

Her mother was in bed, where she always was. Tsiann could remember a time where they would go into town, but it had been so long ago now that the memories were becoming cloudy and piecemeal. The Mage - he had said to call him Virgo, which she had giggled at - had taken her back home. "Escorted" was the word he used. Tsiann was starting to wonder if he just liked using big words for simple stuff.

Even though she had thanked him for helping her get the Opal he insisted on helping her get back home. She knew the way, she had told him. She didn't need any help with her Mam, she had said. No, he couldn't have the stone (He called it a crystal, and he called it blue. Was he blind?) and no he couldn't know why she needed it.

And then her Mam had made her tell. It was all very confusing. She had to hide all the time and lie about everything, but her Mam trusted the Mage? Wasn't he the one we were trying to hide from? Adults never made any sense.

So she told the whole story, of how she had found the Opal. She told them of what the inside of the wall was like, and of the choir that had been singing to her. She told them how she still heard their voices, and wanted to go back. The more she told them, the more concerned the Mage's face looked, and the bigger the smile was on Mam's.

Tsiann told them how powerful the Opal was, and how it might make Mam better, but the Mage had said that it wouldn't work like that, and Mam had agreed.

"You always told me that if you lost your Magic you'd die, and you've been in bed so long your Magic has to be gone which means you are going to die soon so I've been looking for Magic for a really long time  and now you can't have any and so what else would I think was going to happen and-"

Words just kept coming out of Tsiann's mouth and tears started to follow. She felt her Mam's hand rest on the top of her head as her other wrapped around her back. Tsiann felt her mother pull her in close. She must have gotten up at some point...

Through a river of tears and snot a smile appeared on Tsiann's face. "Ma, wait!"

"Repose"

Tsiann was immediately washed over with a sense of calm. Her mind slowed, to one, single, thought at a time. Her entire body went loose, and she embraced the arms of her mother.

"Noooo.." She lulled.

"Yes, child." Her mother replied, voice as comforting as a thousand blankets. "You are too quick, you must slow down and see all that is around you."

Her mother laid Tsiann down in the large reading chair next to the window, and returned to her bed. She meandered her way into comfortableness, and then addressed the Mage. "I believe that Virgo might have some insight here. Please listen to him."

Tsiann threw her legs over one of the arm's of the chair, resting her head on the other. "Yes Ma."

Her mother threw her a look.

"Mother." Tsiann looked at the at the Mage. "Yes?"

"Well, young lady." The man was so proper, Tsiann almost laughed. "I am sure you are familiar with the Twelve Mages, and with me, the 6th. I am called Virgo, though that is more of a title than a name. Each of the Twelve has a specific role, and mine is in researching and finding stones just like the one you found. We call them Stones of Power, and they are the source of our Magic. The Twelve believe that they are the only sources of magic in this world."

"That's not true." Tsiann piped in.

"Yes," The Mage responded, a smirk appearing through his dark stubble. "Though sometimes it is more convenient to believe in something false."

"You see, Tsiann." He continued. "I met your mother years ago, almost a hundred now. When I first found this area. It was the source of many of these stones, and the other Mages sent me out here to gather them up and find out why. It was she that taught me the truth of this world - that we Mages stole the magic that we wield. Stole it from those like your mother, and yourself for that matter. The first Twelve stole Magic from the Wytches."

Tsiann looked at her mother, and her mother nodded back to the mage. "You guys are a hundred years old!?"

Her mother laughed, and the Mage looked confused. "I thought you'd be more interested in the Wytch part."

That got another rise out of her Mam. "Virgo, you dolt - I've never hid it from her. What kind of Wytch would I be if I hid Magic from my daughter. I just didn't tell her you knew as well - figured that would make it harder for her to keep quiet."

"Oh." All of the authority the Mage had wielded moments before had taken its leave. "So she doesn't know of our arrangement..."

Tsiann stood up from the chair - the effects of her mother's spell having worn off. "Wait. Are you my Dad!?"

Her mam laughed for a solid five minutes. Virgo was as red as a tomato the entire time. Tsiann simply waited in confusion.

"No, No, definitely not, little one." Her mother wiped a tear from her eye. "Though for what we are planning it might have been a good plan. No - your father was a traveling poet. I'm happy to tell you about him sometime."

"Huh." Tsiann replied. She had never given it much thought - her Mam had always been enough. She sat back down on the chair, processing all this new information as best as her 9* year old mind could.

The Mage cleared his throat. "To continue - The arrangement between your mother and I was this: As a Wytch, she would create new Stones of Power - and I would collect them to be used by the Mages."

"What?!" Tsiann stood up again, and turned to her mother. "Is that the reason you are always in bed? You are giving them Magic? Why would you do that if they stole it from us in the first place?!"

"Because of what I get out of it, Tsiann the Quick." Her mother had a smile. The kind she only got when she knew she was right. Tsiann hated it.

"And what is that?"

"In return, I would train her eventual daughter to be my successor."

Tsiann looked at both of them, with as much confused anger a 9 year old could muster.

"It would have to be in secret. To the rest of the town you would simply be my assistant - but you would receive the kind of training a Wytch of your stature deserves. And eventually, you might even be able to take back Magic itself from the rest of the Twelve."

Tsiann sat back down. This time on the floor. It was too much for her brain to process. "Would I have to live with you? Leave my Mam?"

It was her mother who answered. "Of course not! This isn't some silly fairy tale. You'd stay here with me, and I would help fix all of the bad habits he's inevitably going to give you."

Tsiann found herself wrapped in her mother's embrace for the second time today. "Even better, you could start helping me creating those Opals - which means I'd have enough energy to get out of that damn bed."

"Deal."

Her mom leaned back, holding Tsiann at arm's length. "Really? I thought you'd be much more stubborn."

"If it means you'll be well again," She gestured at the Mage with her thumb. "I'd clean his tower top to bottom for 6 months straight."

- End -

 
* Author's note: I have Retconned Tsiann's age to be 9 from Part 3.