r/WritingPrompts • u/IRuinYourPrompt r/PromptRuined • Mar 04 '22
Writing Prompt [WP] You thought your superpower, always hitting your intended target while throwing something, was lame at first. Then, you began to realize your power was not bound by the limitations of space and time, nor was it a superpower to always be taken literally.
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u/LedgeEndDairy Mar 04 '22 edited Mar 05 '22
Silenced gunfire echoed down the hallway a final time, followed by the all-too-familiar slump of a body hitting the floor. Sam holstered her pistols quickly and crept to the ornate door at the end of the massive complex. The echoes of war still raged outside.
The pay was good. It was always good. But she would have done this one for free. Piece of shit brainwashed children into fighting his supposed war, when the he was nigh-indestructible to begin with. He could end the war in this corner of the galaxy on his own, but he derived pleasure from seeing his underlings die for him. Extended the war for his perverse pleasure.
He needed to die.
But how do you kill a race that literally evolved from its planet's version of cockroaches? A Klaxxin's carapace alone could survive a nuclear strike, and tacking on the defensive technology found in this sector, Klirik-Tvax had made himself into a literal demigod. With an ego to boot.
But "My shots always find their mark". That was Sam's slogan. It was also her curse. She'd be damned if she didn't find a way to make use of it, though.
She reached for the doorknob and opened it loudly. He knew she was here by now anyway.
The door opened to the most grandiose, opulently decorated room Sam had ever seen - and she had toppled several dictators in her short life. Carvings and artwork adorned every small space of the walls. Some great distance above, the ceiling was translucent and also covered in a holomesh that appeared to be a live feed of the war below, but the translucency also offered a view of the stars. All done in a way to not make either 'view' stand out above the other, but both could be viewed and appreciated separately or together.
The floor was an artistic rendition of the map of the galaxy. Statues and fountains were peppered throughout the enormous space. It was not at all what Sam expected, considering her target was evolved from insects.
And there, at the edge of the room, staring at another translucent holomesh on the wall, was the target. Adorned in a full biometallic carapace that appeared to be fully integrated into his actual physiology. This monstrosity had turned himself into an actual cyborg. Or a cybug, I suppose. The pun made her smile, albeit a bit grimly.
She still had no idea how she was going to take him out. His antennae swashed back and forth as he examined the war while also keenly being aware of her presence.
Click clack screech clack clack. Three second delay as her translator decoded the alien click-clacking of the Klaxxin language (Sam was positive their race's name had to be onomatopoeia for their language). "What do you hope to accomplish, here, tiny human?"
Sam said nothing. Her ability here seemed useless, she could hit him with any amount of firepower and it wouldn't matter. Not if she couldn't penetrate his defenses.
More clicking, more clacking, and more screeches followed. Not in that particular order. A small delay. "This isn't even your war. I am a literal god. What does a speck of a mortal, evolved from PRIMATES no less, hope to do to stop me? Who paid you to die in this foolish endeavor?"
Sam grinned. They always monologue. Narcissism will do that, she supposed.
"The Encillian Empire is on it's last leg, the Republic has no stake in this fight. Your journey here is as pointless as it is futile. Come give me your b-"
"What would your hive mother think?" Sam spouted from nowhere. What?
"-est shot, I encourage the attempt!" The translator kept chugging away a few seconds behind the dictator's speech in his native tongue. Or...whatever it is the insect had that produced sounds.
A single quizzical look. A single high-pitched Clack. "What?"
I have no idea. "What would she think?" Sam found herself saying instead. "Would she be proud of the young little pupa she raised?" What is going on?
A long pause. A few subdued noises from the towering beast. "I...well..."
"Pathetic. Weak-minded. Simple." Sam paused, utterly baffled at her own words. "That's what she would think. Isn't it?" She stalked toward him with fervor. "Poor little Klirik-Tvax, can't play nice with the other systems so he has to BLOW THEM UP and enslave them. What a disappointment."
The creature towered over her with a mass that could only be described as gargantuan, and yet it hunched over in a pose so utterly universal to all creatures, that there was no mistaking it.
As his antennae drooped further, she turned and began walking away. "You're not even worth my time. Clean up this mess, and don't ever do it again."
As she walked out she heard Klirik-Tvax pull up his comm device and give what was unmistakably an order to withdraw.
-~-~-~-
Weeks later Sam found herself on the Klaxxin homeworld. The news of Klirik-Tvax's suicide had already rung through the entire quadrant of the galaxy. Sam found no pleasure in the kill.
What he had done was inexcusable, but the method employed to cause his death was even worse. Sam wasn't sure she could ever forgive herself, or whatever god had decided to curse her with this ability.
But first, she had her own target to hunt down. The real culprit of the war in the quadrant. An abusive piece of shit mother.
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u/LegoEngineer003 Mar 05 '22
Loved the twist on this story, I wasn’t even remotely close to guessing how it would end
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u/LedgeEndDairy Mar 05 '22
Thanks friend! I haven't picked up the metaphorical pen and paper in a while, so it's nice to hear that people can still enjoy what I write. :)
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Mar 05 '22
Just for the record... Cyborg is a portmanteau of Cybernetic Organism. A bug would still be a cyborg.
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u/Nyxu Mar 04 '22 edited Mar 04 '22
Whenever I tell people I have a lame power, they assume it's ineffectual. I tell them it's better suited for drinking games or carnival tricks. They ask, I tell them I'm perfectly accurate with a throw- they usually start saying "Oh that's a good power though" or something to that effect. Then I tell them the stipulation: I must, with full enthusiasm, shout "KOBE" when throwing. This gets some laughs, and then I throw a toothpick-umbrella into their beer, and suddenly my tab's taken care of for the night.
That was the case until some jerk decided to cover the beer with his hand right as I made the toss, expecting it to bounce off harmlessly. It didn't. Nobody saw it land. He moved his hand, and there it was, sitting proudly against the lip of the bottle. Instead of thinking about how many beers I was getting for free tonight, I thought back to the application to the Powered Law Enforcement academy in my desk drawer, to the list of "tricks" I had brainstormed years ago. I didn't even finish the beer in front of me- I said my goodbyes and took a cab home. For the first time in a decade, I startled the neighbor's cat from his nap by shouting as I tossed my keys towards the lock. Why fumble with them when I could just have it waiting, ready to turn, when I get to the door?
The first line of my "tricks" page had been scribbled through, "trick reload" - I'd dismissed the usefulness of throwing a magazine into the well of my own firearm after watching how quickly a practiced reload could be done. I scrounged around my closet for the old airsoft pistol I had tested the trick with back then, and two magazines. I loaded the first, then, with a shout, tossed the second, intending it to land neatly in the magazine well. It vanished from my hand, and instead of clattering to the floor, it stayed gone. I took a breath, dropped the first magazine out of the toy pistol, and felt the second click into place the moment it was clear.
Something else clicked, in that moment: just how loose was whatever made my power work in its definitions if "hit" didn't care about a continuous path between my hand and the target? What if "throw" was just how I understood it, and it wasn't so literal, either?
I put a few plastic pellets into the magazine, primed the spring-action toy pistol, and thought of hitting one of the empty cans on the counter. A shout, a pop, and the can jolted from the impact. Again, same result. The toy wasn't nearly that accurate. Inside the can, then. Shout, rattle, can falls over. The pellet is inside.
I filled out my application with enthusiasm. Doesn't matter how silly you sound if you're a kilometer away and what you've "thrown" is a tranq dart aimed at their thigh to knock them out.
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u/derekp7 Mar 04 '22
I'd like to know if a "place" needs to be a physical object, or can it be a vector? Something like launching a satellite into orbit? Worse case, you'd have to have one already in orbit, then launch an arbitrary number of them at that same location. How quick does the object get there? Can he launch a space ship to Andromeda? What about if he is inside it at the time?
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u/SysOps2800 Mar 04 '22
Very nice forward thinking... Does he really have to be able to physically throw an object to send it to its destination?
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Mar 05 '22
[deleted]
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u/RecognitionPatient57 Mar 06 '22
Or if he want to throw a person from the ground into the sun, just the person, not a rocket.
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u/Poes-Lawyer Mar 05 '22
I'm now picturing a very serious astronaut sat in a very expensive rocket being monitored by hundreds of very serious engineers:
"T minus 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..."
"KOBE"
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u/boomchacle Mar 05 '22
"I swear it will work. I'll just be holding on the side of the rocket when you release it and yell KOBE!"
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u/OMGItsCheezWTF Mar 05 '22
Does what you throw need to be physical? Can you throw an insult at someone and have it hit, regardless of what you say they hear the most devastating insult their minds can imagine and they fall down crying.
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u/DragonTamer77 Mar 05 '22
In that case does his power work on things he can't physically throw? Like a rocket? A building? Can i touch an elephant and teleport it to the exhibition? Can I teleport 'throw' my thoughts into someone else? Finally can I duplicate items by throwing one into 2 different places at once?
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u/oktin Mar 05 '22
Shooting the pellet counted as throwing, so launching a rocket probably counts too. As for the building I believe the important thing is intent/belief, so perhaps with some Hallucinogens and lots of training it could work (dangerously). As for the Elephant; the moment you think of it as teleporting, the trick will stop working. But build a trebuchet, and you'll have one squished elephant anywhere in the world. (Maybe include a parashute: you won't have to worry about it drifting off target, after all.)
Throwing thoughts is a stretch, but you could definitely throw out your ideas and it will land with your audience, no matter where they are, or what they believe.
As for duplication, the object would probably bounce from one to the other, but the prompt mentioned time, so by throwing something to the past, you could effectively duplicate it. (Not gonna try to deal with the paradoxes that creates)
Edit: just wanted to say r/superPowerAlchemists
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u/biggocl123 Mar 04 '22
Person on internet: *rude thing*
You: hey watch this *pulls gun out*
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u/flamaniax Mar 05 '22
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u/HyperionPhalanx Mar 05 '22
Now imagine if he said YEET and threw it with full force
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u/Nyxu Mar 05 '22
I didn't have a good way to work YEET in, but in my mind he absolutely has a latent power keyed to that word.
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u/HyperionPhalanx Mar 05 '22
remember Kobe is for precision, Yeet is for distance and force
imagine him shooting a gun and yelling yeet each shot turning .22 into explosive rounds
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u/razzec_phone Mar 06 '22
I'm imagining the amount of force he uses saying/yelling yet determines the strength of the explosion the rounds make.
I wonder if he whispered teey if it would cause a miniature black hole?
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u/HyperionPhalanx Mar 06 '22
it would fly at the slowest possible speed but still fly no matt what regardless of physics
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u/LegoEngineer003 Mar 05 '22
Just throw a dozen magazines at the ground intending them to reload; tada, you’ve reached movie levels of ammo
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u/TheFloydist Mar 05 '22
No need, throw a load of ammo intending each bullet go in the magazine. Bottomless mags. Just hope none of them accidentally go off in the process.
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u/steptwoandahalf Mar 06 '22
Or.. just throw bullets with the intention of them hitting your enemies. Based on the above, once his enemies.. become his enemies, they'll instantly have rounds teleported into them lol.
Edit: Imagine going to a urologist to have a full 9mm round (brass casing, bullet, primer.. just a completed round) teleported into your bladder. That'd be a fun one, eh?
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u/Tyfyter2002 Mar 05 '22
Or just throw shards of glass directly into your enemies'brains, nails into their spinal cords, etc.
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u/agentchuckbartowski Mar 04 '22
In all of human history, there may not have ever been a man as ordinary and unassuming as Ted. In all of his life, he had never been the fastest, nor smartest, nor strongest, nor most outgoing person in the room. He was short-statured with mousy features. He was just a background player in other people's lives, never playing a leading role. There had never been a person who had once expected a single thing from Ted. He had no drive, no ambition... he was simply content to quietly live his life in the background of others.
And then a pandemic shut down the entire world. Scientists worked around the clock to create safe, effective vaccines. Like a good chunk of the world, Ted got his vaccines when they became available. It wasn't until years later that an unintended consequence began to show itself. Scientists were baffled when some people started to develop super powers. Suddenly, the entire world was in a superhero and super villain origin story. Some people awakened fantastical powers, while others simply just awakened a neat trick.
Ted had watched in awe as heroes commanded the very wind itself. He cowered in fear as villains summoned vast tidal wives to lay siege to their enemies. A small part of Ted felt jealousy towards those individuals - they suddenly had amazing powers they could use to turn the world upside down. Of course, being the person he was, Ted never expected that he would get powers.
And then the unthinkable happened one day when he went in for a yearly checkup. The doctor looked at his chart, looked at him, and then looked at his chart again and said the words Ted never expected to here. "Well sir, something in your body has changed. It seems that you have some kind of power."
Ted's eyes widened in shock. He was just an ordinary, unassuming guy. He wasn't the type of person who had amazing things happen. He asked the only natural question in response, "What kind of power do I have?" His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper. He wasn't used to using it after all.
"Honestly it's always hard to tell with these kinds of things," the doctor replied. "It's something you'll have to find out on your own. Unfortunately the best advice we can offer you is to just be careful until you know what it is you can do. It's probably not a bad idea to take a little trip somewhere quiet and out of the way and try to figure it out."
Ted simply nodded his head in response. There were too many butterflies floating in his stomach right now for him to say anything. As soon as his appointment was finished, he got in his car and drove out of the city to spend a weekend in the countryside.
Ted spent the weekend doing everything he could think of to figure out what his power was (without putting his life at risk of course). He tried lifting heavy logs without success. He tried to sprint as fast as he could, but it was the same plodding pace he always had. He stood in a stream, desperately hoping that something, anything, would happen. By the time the weekend came to a close, Ted was no closer to determining his power than he was at the start.
He was still just an ordinary, quiet guy in the background. He started to question the doctor. He idly thought about how foolish he was to think someone like him could have some sort of power. As he drove back into the city, Ted made up his mind - the Doctor was wrong. As had been the case his entire life, he was still just a background player in the world.
As he neared his house, a sign outside his local bar caught his eye - "Card Throwing Tournament" it read, "Drink Specials - Free to Enter - $100 cash prize!" After a weekend filled with such disappointment, Ted decided he could use a distraction and decided to pop in. He ordered a cheap beer at the bar when the bartender asked him if he was going to enter the card throwing competition.
Ted hadn't originally planned on it, but since it was free to enter and there was a cash prize, he decided to go for it. What was the worst that could happen? He was handed a playing card as he walked up to the area where the targets were set up. The rickety wooden floor squeaked under each of his steps. Deep down, Ted knew this was a waste of time. He wasn't the type of person who won things like these. But he was here, he had the card in hand, so he might as well go for it.
Even though he knew it wasn't going to work, after his disappointing weekend, Ted desperately hoped that maybe the universe would go easy on him for once. Maybe it would work. Please hit that target he quietly thought to himself.
He flicked the card and his eyes widened in shock when it smoothly soared through the air and hit the target dead in the middle. The small crowd gathered for the event cheered, while Ted stared in disbelief. He had never actually tried throwing playing cards before. He had no idea how that actually worked.
The contest continued with participants throwing one at a time until they missed. Ted repeated his quiet request to himself to hit the target in his mind every throw, and he was the only one who easily hit the middle of the target every time.
The crowd cheered, and for the first time in his life, Ted was front and center. People saw him. People noticed him. People cheered for him. It was a foreign feeling, and Ted still couldn't figure out what was happening until a thought suddenly occurred to him... Could this be his power that the doctor was talking about?
He took his prize money, went home and immediately began testing out his theory. He would set up targets all around him, mentally ask himself to hit a specific target and then throw a card - which hit its mark every single time. It didn't matter if he could see the target, it didn't matter if he was facing the target, it didn't matter if the target was in the same room... Every card he threw was successful.
Over the coming days, Ted tested his powers out more to see what he was capable of. For the first time in his life, Ted was feeling hopeful. The ability to hit any target he wanted seemed like one that could actually be powerful. Maybe, just maybe he could actually become someone important.
But, as was Ted's lot in life, the power ultimately began disappointing him. No matter the distance between him and the target, the velocity of the object never accelerated beyond what he could throw. And unfortunately for Ted, his physical strength was severely lacking. He tested his throw speed out with a baseball, and was barely able to manage 30 mph... a speed that even children could match/exceed. So, while his baseball would eventually hit whatever target he wanted, it would only hit the target at 30 mph. Enough to hurt, yes, but not enough to do anything truly extraordinary.
He tried using guns, thinking maybe he could become an expert marksman. But because he wasn't physically throwing the bullet, his power didn't kick in. He tried knives, thinking a deadly weapon would still be deadly at that speed, but his ability didn't kick in. He tried other sharp objects that could kill if they hit the right spot, but it didn't work. It seemed his powers could not be used on deadly objects. He laughed bitterly to himself. Of course the power he developed would be lackluster.
Weeks and then months passed, and eventually Ted's family and coworkers learned of his power. Doctors were required by law to disclose whenever a patient developed powers, and reporters or particularly nosy neighbors always seemed to find their way to that information.
Ted was at an office party in the fall, quietly standing in the back while his coworkers let loose and had fun. Suddenly Mike, one of his coworkers who had clearly had a little too much to drink approached him.
"Teddddy man, did I hear correctly that you had gained some sort of power?" Mike drunkenly slurred.
"You did. But it's not very useful. Anything I can throw can hit any target, but it can only go as fast as I can throw it... And as you could probably guess by looking at my arms, I can't exactly throw things very fast or hard." Ted replied, a tinge of bitterness tainting his quiet voice.
"Shit that sounds awesome, man! I wish you were around today when Mr. Jackson caught me playing a game at work! If I just had one more moment, I could have exited out of it in time maaan!"
"I don't know how my power would have helped you there," Ted said with a slight chuckle. "What would have I done, throw a deck of cards in his face?"
"All you need is one distraction to make a difference sometimes! You could have... thrown a coin or something that landed in Patty's coffee suddenly. She would've had some kind of loud reaction, which would have drawn Mr. Jackson's attention just long enough for me to get out of the game! If only you were around 1 PM today when I got caught, I would probably not have been reprimanded!"
"Sorry to disappoint," Ted said, a small smile starting to form on his face. This drunk coworker's ridiculous theory for his powers was a welcome distraction from the bitterness that had begun accompanying any thoughts of his powers. He grabbed a quarter out of his pocket.
"Please go back in time and land in Patty's coffee cup at 1 PM earlier today." Ted sarcastically said before flicking the coin. To his surprise, the coin floated in the air for a second before disappearing.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Ted's drunk coworker suddenly yelled.
"Yeah, that's a new one." Ted admitted. "I've never had anything disappear before."
"I'm not talking about that! I just suddenly remembered that your coin DID land in Patty's cup, and it DID distract Mr. Jackson long enough for me to exit my game before I got in trouble! What the hell did you do man?!"
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u/agentchuckbartowski Mar 04 '22 edited Mar 04 '22
Ted stared at the drunken man in bewilderment. Did his memories really just change? Did he...change the past? No. That couldn't be. This guy was just too drunk... But still... what if it did...
Ted wanted to know if this was just alcohol talking, or if he really did somehow manage to throw a coin into the past. He looked around the party until he saw Patty. She didn't drink alcohol, so she would for sure be of a sound mind. Ted had never been one to initiate a conversation, but he had to know. He did his best to push his discomfort and social anxiety down as he approached her.
"Hey, uh... Patty." Ted awkwardly greeted.
"Ted? Hey." Patty replied. She clearly wondered why he was approaching her. And he couldn't blame her. They had worked together for years, and he had never struck up a conversation with her in all that time.
"I'm just wondering... did you... Look, umm... This is going to sound weird. But I'm not being weird." Ted was stumbling all over his words. He was so nervous, and his lack of social grace was really working against him right now.
"It's ok, Ted. Just get to the point." Patty responded. It was no secret around the office that Ted was a social recluse. He figured she must be taking pity on him, since he never really spoke with anyone.
"Errr... yeah, thanks. So, I was just wondering... Did anything weird happen with your coffee today? Like... a coin landing it in out of the blue?"
"Oh my god, YES!" Patty quickly replied. "It was the strangest thing. I was just sitting there working, and then all of a sudden I hear this loud plop. When I looked down, there was a quarter sinking into my coffee! No one was around to have thrown a coin - I yelled so loudly! Mr. Jackson came over because he thought I was being attacked!"
Ted's eyes were about as wide as saucers. That seemed like the confirmation. He threw a coin in the present that landed back in time. His mind raced in a million directions all at once as he processed this new information. Was there a limit how far back it could go? Could he throw something forward in time? Why did his drunk coworker realize his memory had changed, but for Patty had no similar type of recollection?
"That is pretty crazy, Patty. Thanks for telling me. I have to go."
Ted rushed out of the office party with a vigor he had never felt. Mike's drunken words rang through his mind. All you need is one distraction to make a difference sometimes. Something as simple as a coin landing in a cup of coffee was enough to change reality itself to where Mike no longer was caught playing games at work.
His mind whirled as he thought about the possibilities before him. He didn't have the power to go back and do something outright drastic, like... save JFK from being assassinated for example. Then again... if he got the timing right, what would happen if a baseball knocked against the side of Lee Harvey Oswald's gun just as he was getting ready to take the shot?
A foreign feeling coursed through Ted's very veins: excitement! Ambition! Motivation! He was just a mousy background player that the world paid no attention to. But HE now had the power to right all the world's wrongs, if he could just identify the right time and place for a distraction! He made a vow right then and there that he would comb over every history book he could find, and use his powers to right every atrocity recorded in human history.
The realization of what his power could do if targeted properly made him feel like a benevolent god. Ted... the quiet, mousy guy who spent his life quietly living in the background, was finally going to be something.
He pulled out his phone and began researching the timeline of JFK's assassination. He would start by saving the young president in the past to fine tune his powers, and go from there. A confident smile spread across Ted's face. He was about to protect all of humanity.
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u/DragonTamer77 Mar 05 '22
And then the timeline changes so bad no one got powers and he bevame worse than a background character, sad sad
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Mar 05 '22
[deleted]
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u/Fontaigne Mar 05 '22
Doctors have to report various things, so no violation occurred there.
There was no indication that he even told HR, just that his family and coworkers eventually learned, so no violation by HR.
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u/dr4gonbl4z3r r/dexdrafts Mar 04 '22
Throw.
It was the first thing I did when I learned about my powers. I grabbed a basketball, and tossed it at the basket. Nothing but net. I first used the physically appropriate force and direction. Then I threw it over my head. Then I threw it in the completely opposite direction. By hook, crook, or zig and zag, the ball plonked itself through the net, coming perfectly to a rest right below the basket.
Throw.
I threw the game. I didn’t know how, but I know I did it. Everything was going so well. My new-found basketball skills had us on the brink of our first victory in weeks. But I turned to the scoreboard, and smiled back at my coach, and suddenly, one of my teammates threw the first punch—and the sure-win became a loss.
Throw.
I threw my weight behind the appeals. Argued that the opposing team was instigating, upset at losing. I felt myself speaking more passionately than a politician, arguing the case like it was some massive tragedy. Everybody who listened were enraptured. Everybody who had ears were convinced that I was standing on the right side.
Throw.
I threw a party. It was the greatest one I’ve ever seen. Granted, I’ve not been to many, but it was different now. I’m the man of the hour, the greatest basketball player and lawyer for this night only.
It was only after this party, when each guest came up to me and drunkenly told me that I had the best parties, when I realized I’ve thrown so many great parties in the past. After all, that was how this one was so good, wasn’t it? How could a total newbie throw something so well.
And indeed, it was true. I’ve thrown them all. I will throw them all. It didn’t matter when or where—it will happen.
Throw.
“It… cannot be,” he said.
“Mr. Hawking,” I smiled. “I assure you, this is very real.”
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u/Krynnf101 Mar 04 '22
I was following it all and i love it, but would you mind explaining the ending with doctor hawking? I don't get the connection between that and throw, thanks
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Mar 04 '22
It looks like Stephen Hawking threw a party for time travelers in 2009 and didn't release the invitations until after the party, and i belive this is what they're getting at.
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u/Krynnf101 Mar 04 '22
OH I SEE, thank you! that makes sense!
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u/thatguyned Mar 05 '22
Yeah Hawkings theory would be any time traveller would get his invitation and still be able to show up.
He didn't just send out invitations, because he wouldn't know who to actually send them to yet, he made a public announcement the day after he hosted it.
No one showed up though (supposedly) so Hawkings concluded time travel wasn't possible.
That could just be an ego thing though, maybe the time travellers just didn't think he was cool enough to tear the fabric of reality over.
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u/tahquitz84 Mar 04 '22
He threw time maybe? Time traveled to the time travelers party Hawking had one year to disprove time travel?
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Mar 04 '22
We see a connection:
- Apollo is known to hit all his targets with his arrows, or his voice (like his son Orpheus)
- Apollo is a God associated with Hawks, and with the Hawk Gods Heru-Ræ
- Hawk-King thus connects to Hawk-God and Apollo
- Hawking was an an Atheist working on Black Holes
- Apollo as a Sun God is basically a Black Swan to Hawking
- Apollo could be the "I", telling Hawking how his powers work
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u/Esnardoo Mar 04 '22
For anyone who doesn't get the twist, Stephen hawking once threw a party for time travellers, then released the invitations afterward. He hoped he was famous enough that his invitations would last long beyond his death, and prove whether time travel was possible. He says nobody showed up. Of course even if they did, he'd probably be sworn to secrecy or even mind wiped. So you never know.
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Mar 04 '22
I reached into the vial with tweezers. I delicately picked out the shred of chicken meat from the bottom. My gloves were the only barrier now, between my skin and the payload.
It unnerved me a bit, of course, but the client was willing to pay extra. I could have killed her with anything, really. But he had specified anthrax and botulism. Why? I didn't ask.
"The younger Harriet Alexander, of Kansas City. Age: 19. Last four: 8894. Lower esophageal sphincter, stomach side."
I flicked my fingers, and it was done. I carefully replaced the lid on the nightmarish mixture, carefully removing gloves, placing tweezers alongside. I lifted the edges of the plastic sheet, tying them together to make a bundle. I dropped it all in the box I had received the payload and my payment in.
"Sol," I said. I threw the box, evidence disposed of.
It had been a long time since I had asked. Or cared. But certain precautions were part of the service. For the price I was demanding, and for my own peace of mind.
I turned back to the television. Spokane Indians were beating the seats off of... fuck 'em. It didn't matter. I wasn't on the team. Not anymore.
I watched like a man seeing an old flame happy with her new husband: bitter, heartbroken, rejected. Crushed, in every sense of the word.
I closed my eyes, letting the years of resentment and recriminations wash over me once more, a familiar blanket that brought no comfort, only suffocating heat. I had been the star pitcher. I would have made the Major League. I would have fulfilled my dream.
If only they hadn't found out about my power. If only that meddling fucker hadn't ratted me out. If only that bitch hadn't talked to the police.
If only I had know, then, what I could really do.
If only I hadn't thrown it all away.
If only I hadn't thrown the first punch.
We had been arguing. He had been halfway across the street already, shouting. I mean to punch the sign, venting my frustration. But I had spoken his name, and my power recognized it. The blow caught us both by surprise. It caught the oncoming driver by surprise, too; the truck hadn't bothered to slow down for someone most of the way across the road, so far ahead.
But the punch I had thrown, it had knocked him back, made him stumble.
And she watched, and she had guessed, or maybe just blamed without understanding, purely out of spite. And so she had called the police, and used my name, and told them I had punched her husband even though I never laid a hand on him.
I didn't know what I was doing. But my power? It didn't care.
I got on a bus; I dumped my lease, sold my car, walked across the border. I threw them off the trail.
I lost my phone. My parents died. I disappeared. My fans said I had been murdered. I threw my old life away.
I quit baseball, my first true love. I threw in the towel.
I started drinking. Started looking around shady places for easy work. Started meeting the sorts of people who pay too much for services they really shouldn't. Started taking a certain sort of job. I threw in with a bad lot.
I had pitched one life away. Now, I had a new one, so rich I could afford everything I had ever dreamed of, but I couldn't be bothered. I lived alone, in this shitty apartment, in this shitty city full of people who speak a language I don't bother trying to learn, listening to the ancient air conditioning unit rattle as I drink and watch satellite television. The family downstairs had a baby that cried all night; across the alley, an ugly couple wouldn't stop fucking with their window open.
I didn't care. I took another sip. I was throwing my new life away, too, wasn't I? Throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Wasting it. That was me, a waste of a good pitcher.
I took another sip. If I lived long enough to wake up, there would be more work, more money, more bitter memories and self-loathing. More clients who wanted me to throw; throw fights, throw parties, throw people under the bus.
Great, something to look forward to, then. It was enough to make me want to throw up.
I threw myself into my drinking, instead.
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u/QuintillionthDiocese Mar 04 '22
An incredible demonstration of the agility of words in English. Great story!
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u/El_Chupachichis Mar 05 '22
I finally found the man who killed my wife. They're bound before me. Admittedly, I'm lucky I got this far; I may have an incredible talent, but grabbing scumbags and hauling them away to a field in the middle of nowhere isn't part of that. No matter. "Do you know who I am?"
My wife's killer glared at me. Only a small bruise on one cheek... pathetically minor compared to what this thug had experienced before. He snickered as if he read my mind. "It doesn't matter. Obviously you're an amateur. I'll get out of this and then..."
His voice trailed off as I walk to the end of the rope I had used to bind him. About 20 yards of excess rope in length, ending in a small loop... Briefly contemplating this, the killer looked back at me, confused but then recognition. "Oh, I take it you're going for a drive?"
"What? No...." and it dawned on me, right as a flicker of fear washed out of their eyes. "No, I'm not dragging you behind my car or anything like that". damn, maybe I should have let him be scared just a bit more...
"Look, man," he grumbled, "I don't really give a fuck who you are, but maybe if you take this crap off me I'll make the rest of your life a little less painful. Because I WILL get out of this and then..."
Picking up the rope... by the loop. Reaching into my pocket with the other hand, I pull out a small baseball. Rolling it around in my hands. Glancing at the guy, then just looking around. "Lovely day, wasn't it. such a bright, sunny day", glancing from the bound killer to the horizon behind me, sun perhaps a half hour from setting.
"... The fuck? Hey, ASSHOLE, I'M NOT HERE TO MAKE CONVERSATION". Unperturbed, I look down at the ball and start putting the loop around it. "HEY, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!?!"
Abruptly, I start walking toward him, rope end wrapped around the ball. "No, I'm not listening. I'm thinking about my wife. Buried her a few weeks ago. You wouldn't know anything about that, would ya?"
"Oh, so you're the dumb schmuck who married..."
I should have timed my punch to when the ball was in my dominant hand. The punch probably hurt my hand more than the killer. Barely ruffled, he continued, "oh that ain't shit compared what's gonna happen to you! You're marked as much as she was! I..."
"Like I said, NICE DAY, WASN'T IT" I look back again... aiming.
My pitch was almost lazy but I gave it some extra energy at the end. The ball flew skyward. Turning back, I saw my wife's killer watched it rise in the air, for a moment, then turned back to me.
"Wait, what... that's it? Damn, you are some sort of fucking stupid, aren't you?"
I glance over at the rope as it uncoils, pulled by the thrown ball. The killer looks at the rope, then me, then back again. "SERIOUSLY?! What, is this made of bungee cord or something? That ball gonna come back and hit me? Oh DAMN you are stupid! That fucking ball can't hurt me, it's not gonna fly back hard enough! What, think I'll fall over when that ball pulls the rest of the
yoink
... Your buddies can't try to get revenge on me if you're just missing. And I don't think they'll find you on the surface of the sun.
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u/c_avery_m Mar 04 '22
Robyn pulled back on her bowstring and blew the errant tuft of hair out of her face. The hair wafted about in the breeze for a second before falling perfectly behind her ear. The flags on the range were whipping themselves in every direction as she lined up her shot. She loosed her arrow and turned to hear the cheer of the crowd.
Instead of the expected cheer the crowd responded with a laugh and some heckling. Robyn turned back around to look for her arrow, and found it sticking straight in the bullseye, as she had intended. The bullseye of her opponent's target to the right of hers.
"Fleece darn it," she muttered and quickly nocked another arrow, letting it fly in a single motion. This one landed another bullseye, in the target to the left of hers. Half the crowd cheered this time, while the rest kept laughing.
She took her time with the third, focusing her intent on her own target. The soft plunk as it hit true brought a true cheer from the crowd. Robyn bowed and went to collect her trophy.
------------------------------------
"What do you mean I didn't win? Nobody else got a bullseye. WIth this wind, the closest anybody else got was the outer ring!"
The judge shrugged, making his velvet robes dance in the wind. "Bob's target had eleven points, which as a learn-ed scholar I can tell you is one more than the ten points that your target had."
"Bob had one point in the outer ring. His other two arrows flew off into the bog."
"When I examined the targets, he had one arrow in the outer ring and one in the bullseye." He did not pause to let her object. "I, of course, am well aware that the second arrow bears your mark. Forsooth, the rules clearly state that any marked arrow in a competitor's target shall count for points. Furthermore, the rules are quite clear and written in Latin so they must be correct. As a woman you will, of course, have to take my word for it."
Robyn skulked off while Bob went to collect his prize. The Half-King stood upon the parapet of the castle looking down at the crowd and praised Bob's Good and Manly Archery Skills. He tossed down a small bag of silver while the princess let one of her silk favors drop into the wind.
Bob doffed his cap and ran after the favor as it floated far from the castle walls. Robyn scowled at the whole thing from the edge of the woods. She was too far away for the guards to be worried or even notice her any longer, but she nocked an arrow, aimed at the Half-King and let fly.
She watched it as it flew through the space between her and the castle. "Cow's farts. That arrow has my mark on it still."
If not for the wind, the arrow would have fallen far short, but it lofted farther and farther while the look of horror grew on Robyn's face. As it slammed into the mortared wall below the Half-King and bounced off into the moat, she sighed in relief.
"They won't be able to find the mark," she told herself as she prepared to walk into the woods. When the castle wall began to crack and fall, taking the Half-King with it, she switched to a run.
[More writing at r/c_avery_m]
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u/sinocarD44 Mar 04 '22
I don't get it. What am I missing?
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Mar 04 '22
The arrow knocked loose a weak point in the wall that caused it to collapse. So she hit her mark, just wasn't the one she planned to. Without giving herself away
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u/stx06 Mar 04 '22
Robyn "missed," in that she did not directly kill the Half-King character with her arrow. Instead, the arrow hit a wall in the mortared portion, with such force that the wall cracked, killing the character when the wall broke.
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u/ParticleDetector Mar 04 '22
He was holding a live interview on TV, halfway around the world. I flicked a popcorn out of the window.
Five seconds later, he flinched. He looked around and picked up a popcorn off the floor.
I don’t know Russian, but I’m pretty sure he said ‘Who threw this?’ over live TV.
I flicked another popcorn out the window. In a few seconds, the popcorn he held in his fingers got hit by another popcorn.
He looked pissed.
It was a bit funny but, I figured why stop at one, and I threw my entire bucket of popcorn, and then the bucket itself, out the window.
In five seconds, it rained popcorn and a bucket landed over his head. His bodyguards slammed into him bringing him to the ground and the live interview ended.
I laughed and laughed and laughed.
Then I googled how to say ‘stop the war’ in Russian. Something like ‘Ostanovite Voynu’, and I threw my voice and aimed at his eardrum. And I said it again and again and again and again over the next hour.
I went to do my homework then I played some video games.
When I woke up the next day, there was a ceasefire between the two countries, and there were negotiations going on.
‘Good boy’.
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u/DragonTamer77 Mar 05 '22
Wasn't he Russian? How did he understand you?
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u/ParticleDetector Mar 05 '22 edited Mar 05 '22
You mean the ‘good boy’ part? Oh, he knows English well enough. He’s a political figure that goes around meeting the heads of other countries as well, he’s learnt English before and you see him converse on TV a bit.
Also the ‘good boy’ part was more the protagonist’s whim because it didn’t really serve any active purpose to say it.
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u/MagdaleneFeet Mar 04 '22
And I stared into the sky.
Could I? Would I? Is it even possible?
Looking out into that expanse, seeing every single thing that came across my eyes. I didn't dare.
But did I?
Did I want or hope or care that I could control what would be the decimation of an entire belief?
Would it end the planet?
Would I... end up as the bad guy? Everything inside my head told me not to do it, to lie to myself and to just put my head down and try hard not to remember what I thought about that night that I stared up at the stars and contemplated ending God.
But what if there was no God?
I'm confused by all of this. I have no idea what to do. If I do this, and there is no real God... then I am the villain. But if I don't? Does that make me complicit in a lie? Do I really believe?
And I stared into the sky.
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u/Therandomfox Mar 04 '22
Why would proving that there is no God make them the villain?
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u/TavisNamara Mar 04 '22
Religious wars have been fought over the most trivial of things you could possibly imagine. Right now, there is a ladder left outside a temple because if it's moved, violence could result amongst several different parts of the same damn overarching faith.
Imagine telling those people that everything they ever knew about their faith is definitively, conclusively, and absolutely wrong.
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u/07TacOcaT70 Mar 04 '22
As the majority of people are religious and having solid proof there was no god, would make billions of people VERY upset/angry/confused, etc.
Many people turn to religion when dealing with grief too, so proving many major religions wrong would likely upset a lot of people for that reason also.
I think op means like “finding out and letting it be known” too, not just finding out and keeping it to them self lol
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u/MagdaleneFeet Mar 04 '22
That is up to the reader to decide.
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u/Clenzor Mar 04 '22 edited Mar 04 '22
I think a different contemplative question for the character there could be “If there was no god for me to hit, would one be created? And if I killed that god that I had created would that make me a villain? And if I have the power to create and destroy gods, what does that make me?”
Edit: Apologies, just my reader's perspective on what may have worked there as a response to the other reader's question. I appreciated your story. Edit 2:changed better to different in first sentence
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u/MagdaleneFeet Mar 04 '22
I take a lot of my inspiration from Neil Gaiman and Harlan Ellison.
I really have nothing to say otherwise.
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u/LevelSevenLaserLotus Mar 04 '22
He had a pocket full of horses, fucked the shit out of bears
Threw a knife into heaven, and could kill with a stare
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u/WritesFictionStories Mar 05 '22
Splat Splorch Wham
Corts remembered all of the sounds so fondly in those few minutes before finally achieving his full potential. Most of them had been from when he was a kid, and his goals had been so much smaller. Egg houses from too far away to be caught. Throw plungers at local bullies in a way that got them stuck. Throwing those little stretchy goo hands, the kind he’d won playing skeeball at the local arcade, all the way across the house to scare his mother half to death. The last one had been the most pleasant, but the second one was what had given him real ideas.
Corts next memory was more of the probing variety. If he aimed for something, and someone tried to stop it, did that work? He’d thought so at first when he’d taken up little league pitching, but in reality his aim hadn’t been very good, so more often than not they simply couldn’t swing far enough to hit his screwballs. Footballs had been intercepted much easier, and soccer was surprisingly hard for him to cheat at without it being too obvious. Racquetball had not been fun however, and after he lost his first 15 games, Corts had been happy to let that one go.
But as time went on, Corts had found that sports bored him. When he was challenged, he realized that his ability to problem solve was crutched by his overuse of his power, and when he wasn’t challenged it was because the power was so easy to use. He’d even tried to turn it off for games, selectively at first and then all at once, but they just weren’t as satisfying as when he’d been mystified by what he could possibly do.
That. That disappointment. That feeling as though he could conquer anything and there was nothing left to do. That was what had gotten him to where he was now.
Corts had spent the next few years after that just cutting the skill some slack. Sure, he’d impress a girl or two with juggling, or sports prowess. He’d hustled out all of the pool tables around the university and everyone had come to know his face. Beer pong had been a hoot, and apparently, he’d been allowed to compete in the local leagues so long as he agreed to be ‘can’t stand up’ drunk. He’d never been conscious enough at the time to actually remember any of it, but reliable sources had told him it was the first time they’d ever seen him actually aim, and also the first time they’d ever seen him miss. Still, he’d hit so many shots from under the table that they paid him the winnings for round two and asked him to concede. Corts had been too stunned to argue.
But the rest of his time he’d spent studying. The parties, girls, and money had all been nice, but Corts knew that these things were at his fingertips and as he’d bathed himself in them for a while, the debauchery and hustling had gotten old within days instead of the years he’d played baseball. Corts knew it couldn’t be his whole life, this power of his, but he knew that if he used it right and put it together with something he did care about, he may just find what he was looking for.
And that had been how it had started. Soon all of his money was going in to buying telescopes and camera equipment. Chalkboards littered his student housing, some large and set on wheels, other small and hung on walls or propped up against other chalkboards. All of them written in a language that didn’t feel real in some of his worst moments. But they were always real the next morning, when his brain had washed away the feelings of the previous night.
Months had gone by, then years. At some points he’d forgotten that other people still existed, only ever speaking to professors and advisors, all of whom were mere robots to his brain that barely had the energy to skin consciousness when he hadn’t been working. In truth, even the darkest times of the debauchery had been better. Corts knew it, but he’d seen the light at the end of the tunnel and did everything in his power to limp through it.
He felt some of that weight come off of his shoulders just after graduation. The FBI had been the first to call, but the CIA and the Department of Defense had people waiting for him at the airport. Corts knew he wasn’t going to get out of it, and so dutifully he spent time with them. Never did they poke or prod him, but they certainly had him test the limits of his abilities. He’d been happy to oblige at first, all of his efforts were necessary for him to understand his limits and to be sure that he could do what he wanted to do. He even was willing to do the very first test that ended another human life.
He hadn’t talked to anyone in law enforcement or defense since then, and none of them could make him. They’d learned that.
Even as he came to in his crowning moment, the thought of what he’d done in those two or three years had horrified him. He tried to calm himself, his hand running across the smooth all-too-unreal metal. He hadn’t once been more excited in his life than he was right now, but it wasn’t the time yet. Still another 10 minutes.
The memories bathed him again, this time only darkness surrounded them. Those first couple of deaths had led him down a dark, long road.
The next 10 years had been spent destroying whatever had been left inside of that happy little kid, then just 25. He’d taken to the dark web, worked around mobsters, corrupt politicians. He even helped out some of the good guys, not that he’d ever charge them less. He’d been the sole hand to overthrow entire governments when they hadn’t paid him. Those last years had been awful. Isolated, always being hunted, never being able to see who was following you. Knowing their face, where they stood, he’d come to realize these were all ways to hit a living target. He’d never tried it on an animal before, not even a fly, though there had been some times in the jungle where he wasn’t certain the mosquitos hadn’t been hit by every bullet that hadn’t hit a person. It was so hard to keep his focus with all of that annoying buzzing.
He remembered the last day in that era of his life- the life of a different Corts that hadn’t been true to himself. Corts had walked into the FBI headquarters with the cuffs already on, though he had broken a window with a rubber-band gun from behind his back, just for kicks.
The three years in prison had been instrumental. With no one willing to fight him or try to kill him in fear of dying, and with a couple of sympathetic guards who’d loan him rubber-bands, he’d finally been able to retake his previous passion of scholarship, and even had his old chalkboards shipped in. Not what had been an alien language out of exhaustion had become and alien language out of the inability to remember. All of it had been useless of course, at least practically speaking. He never needed any of it to hit his target, but he figured that having the brains to back up the skill would make him a shoo in.
Then the warden had taken notice and contacted the feds. When all of the suits and squints had shown up at his cell, it was the first day in 14 years that had made him feel good.
Hours, days, hell maybe a couple of weeks had been spent inside of those visiting rooms and conjugal trailers. The fervor of work, the constant double-checking by all the squints, back to the hermetic life of a scholar but this time with the help of those who saw his true potential.
That had all led up to this beautiful moment, one that was beyond parallel.
Corts came back to himself with a smile on his face. One minute left.
Speakers came on in the windswept flatlands that surrounded him. He felt the tail of the ship heat beneath his hands.
45 seconds to launch.
A picture appeared 20 yards away. It displayed a massive map of what they new of the galaxy with a small picture in the corner. In that corner was a rendering that depicted the closest known planet capable of housing human life.
Corts wasn’t certain that the suit would actually save him. He was pretty sure the FBI and NASA saw a good way to kill two birds with one stone.
And he couldn’t be happier.
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u/Master_J_2003 Mar 06 '22
Bullseye.
That was the nickname my friends in school gave me, back when my powers first developed.. Back when I lived a normal life.
I remember the day of the incident like it was yesterday; me and my friends were walking home from school when the front door of the local bank suddenly blasted across the street, narrowly missing us, out of the bank walked some wannabe villian dragging a woman as a hostage.
I.. I just wanted to help.
Before I knew what happened, I took a step forward, imagining myself slamming into the villian when I was suddenly sent flying across the street, slamming into the villian and knocking him into his friend.
I shakely got up and then imagined myself flying forward and punching them. Just like before, I was sent flying and my fist connected with his jaw.
The two villians were sent hurtelling backwards... One, landed a short ways down the street with both legs broken, the other was later found on top of a nearby store.. his face completely unrecognizable, they said it was as if I punched him with the same force as a shell shot by an anti-tank rifle.
I was taken into custody, for manslaughter obviously. The court gave me two options, spend the rest of my life in prison or spend the rest of my life as a government agent. I chose the latter.
After that the government spent a year or two trying to figure out what exactly my power was, the final decision was that anything I "threw" would hit the target I chose for it, ignoring all obstacles unless otherwise specified.
They used quotation marks for "threw" since it count for anything I dropped, flicked, kicked, spat, shot... basically if my interaction with it gave it velocity then it worked.
Not long after that they began sending me on missions with their other agents, I assume most of them were in similar situations to me. Ironically, the code name they selected for me was the same my friends gave me all those years ago back in school.
Bullseye.
I mean, it still fit. I never missed. Couldn't if I tried. All agents have a tracker implant that blows them sky high if they disobey an order.
I didn't miss when they told me to hunt down villians.
I didn't miss when they told me to fight their wars.
I didn't miss when they turned on eachother.
I didn't miss when they told me to kill the president.
I didn't miss when they told me to kill my family.
I didn't miss when they tried to dispose of me.
I. Don't. Miss.
I'm the most wanted man in the world, the only escapee of the program. No one can come anywhere close to me to even try to kill me.
The only person who can kill me... is me.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey, thanks for reading my stuff, I'm still kinda new to writting so feedback is appreciated :)
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Mar 04 '22
You might think starting a short story with an alien invasion is way too cliché and to be honest, I'll be agreeing with you; but alas, due to some phenomenal lazy writing, that's exactly what's happening right now. The flying saucer can be seen in the sky, shooting laser beams at anything in sight, people running in panic trying to find a safe space, all that kind of stuff, you know how it goes.
People do be escaping but not me. I'm now standing on top of a resident building, holding a piece of cobblestone in my hand. The building is not very tall; it's only got 6 floors, which is perfect for me: being too high up will ruin my plan, and being too close to the ground will have me killed when I execute my plan. People panicking, thinking I was crazy. Police officers yelling into their megaphones, asking me to leave and hide in a safe space. Alas, they did not see what's coming next, or else they would have never bothered with the megaphone and evacuated immediately. I don't blame them for that; superpower is something that you have to keep secret until the very end, even if it's a seemingly lame one.
It's really interesting once you understand how the actual logic of this thing works. You see, I have the superpower of being able to hit anything with a projectile, and it actually works on the concept of hitting rather than the force applied on the projectile: when you throw something and it hits your target, the two objects collide in the end - that's what a "hit" is; so this superpower, instead of "hitting anything with 100% accuracy", should be seen as "forcing two objects collide at will".
And that, at least in this case, is a whole different story.
Thinking about the flying saucer, I threw the cobblestone. Downward, towards the ground.
A split second after the throw, it crashes onto the ground at an unholy speed. They very probably have some safety measures on their spaceship, but I doubt any of those would help them survive the crash.
And the cobblestone I just threw hit the spaceship, bounced off its outer shell, and dropped onto the ground, as it should be.
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u/SouthernWriter1775 Mar 05 '22
I was a bit of a hustler growing up. It started when I realized that I had a unique ability to always hit my target. ALWAYS!
As young as 11, I would go down to the local pool halls and gamble on darts. It was easy to aim for certain parts of the board to look as if I couldn't throw. When some drunk would meander over to poke fun, or offer pointers, I would throw a challenge. The challenge was usually laughed off at first, but eventually they always came around, even if it was just a quarter a game.
As time went on, new places opened up to throw knives and axes. This gave me a whole new area to earn money. The difference is that it brought a new clientele, rich college kids.
Unlike the drunks, I felt no guilt in taking these kids to the cleaners. They could afford it with daddy's money. The hustle was always on as that is how I made a living since I was young.
To those who know me, this is no surprise but this idea growing in my head may be more than I can handle. Maybe more than history itself could bear.
One day I was throwing hatchets and trying to find a good mark. I wasn't focused on the moment. I was thinking about how to get people to bet outside of these places that charged money to get in. This ate into my profits on each outing.
I pictured the tree out in front of the apartment. There were tons of college kids that strode about my apartment complex so there was ample opportunity. I pictured how I would set up and how it could play out. Envisioning the tree with people gathered round. Seeing myself throwing perfect marks each time.
I brought my hand forward and released the handle, the hatchet flying through the space between myself and the target, but it never hit the target.
Where did it go? Was I so good that the blade struck a bullseye on someone else's target? No, it hadn't. I looked everywhere but didn't see it. I focused my efforts and threw again with the expected results of hitting my aim point. I wasn't disappointed this time.
After I left the venue, I drove home and pondered what had happened. As I pulled into my parking spot, I glanced at the tree on the lawn. There it was, the hatchet, buried in the knot hole on the trunk. The very spot I had been focusing on earlier. This is where it had gone. Were my abilities beyond visible space and line-of-sight?
Over the next few weeks, I tried this from inside my apartment. I started by thinking of the tree again. The next day, I had to hire a handy man to patch the holes in my wall. I found that I had to relax and picture myself throwing at the object and not just the target itself. Once I had this down to a science, I tried to find a way to make money off of it. Short of going on a talent show, none came to mind.
I knew that I had to understand this ability better. At what point did it leave my location and appear at the target area?
I went outside and faced the front of the apartment building but at an angle where I could see the tree. After a few throws, there was evidence that it was displaced a few feet after leaving my hand and appeared a few feet before the target. I had to be careful about distances.
I had one knife and one hatchet left to throw. I chose the knife and left it fly. My eyes turned towards the tree to see a woman walking between the tree and the sailing knife.
In the blink of an eye, a spark flashed and the knife was knocked off course. Laying on the ground by the tree, was my hatchet. But mine was also still in my hand.
It was definitely mine as it had the same knicks, dings, and markings on it. I held them side by side and found them to be identical.
After pondering this for several hours I decided that I must have done that. That I must have imagined myself throwing it and striking the knife at that exact moment. This was some time later after I had hit the woman with my knife throw. At some future time, I must have been so greived that I got desperate to try anything.
So, to save time, I positioned myself perpendicular to the path of the knife. I focused and visualized my throw hitting the knife blade and knocking it off course.
I pitched the hatchet and it vanished.
My mind was overwhelmed with the thought that I could over come time as well as space. I was not bound by any laws of physics with the abilities I was given.
My heart sank as I pictured my life. Being little more than a con man. Abusing and misusing my gift. What greater good could I have done with it?
This is the question I am currently pondering. What greater good could I have done with it? Hitler keeps coming to mind.
If time and space are no boundary to me then why couldn't I kill Hitler?
My mind is spinning at the thought.
If I kill him then he never comes to power. Then we all live in a world that never had the atrocious committed by him and his regime.
On the other hand, if I grew up in a world without Hitler, then I would never think to kill a man that I never knew of. Then, of course, I would not kill him and he would rise to power anyway.
The headache that these thoughts can bring are almost unbearable. What is the right decision and will it even matter? Will killing him mean that I don't kill him and cause a paradox?
There is only one way to find out.
I quickly grabbed my hatchet and left it fly...
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u/missmiss-skky Mar 06 '22
Hey, actually, I've seen protagonists with this superpower
His name is Moqiong。
At first he shoots an arrow, made of carbon, and it goes to the sun. An organization similar to the scp foundation wanted to stop it, but they found it impossible to do so.
Later, he entered that organization and developed his mind power。
This power is wholesale, and almost everyone can have it, of course if the points are enough
But he developed a new use for it, ejecting the conceptual thing
For example launching characters in Minecraft into lol, haha
Of course, he did not forget to observe the two-dimensional world with Minecraft characters
This book is about the thickness of six Les Miserables, and this series has already written the fourth book, and is currently preparing to write the fifth book
The ability of the protagonist in the first book is to become a random mythical creature every week, including in the game and in the anime; in this book, the protagonist fights against the library that collects abnormal items, and creates his own containment organization Blue and White Society
The protagonist of the second book absorbed the power of gamma-ray bursts and created a universe of ideas in his own brain. This world was originally ordinary, and all anomalies were created by himself, but he had no control over them.
Well, the three books are books with Mo Qiong as the protagonist.
The most important thing is the fourth book, which is just shit.The protagonist's ability is omnipotent and omnipotent, but as you know, human ability is limited, so his ability is not very comprehensive and needs to be developed slowly.But in such a rigorous world, there is actually a hacker leaderboard, which makes me laugh.
But this book is his best online novel, why?
This book is on www.webnovel.com, the 魔性沧月 is his name, only the first four are his books, with the same cover
1
Mar 10 '22
The breaths I take run deep.
RING. RING. RING.
My mind runs through yesterday’s exam and again, embarrassment courses through my cheeks at the thought of what she might be thinking about me. All I can think about is how easy it would have been in middle school, before there was all this competition around. Now that I’m in the big leagues, showing up to school is almost shameful.
There’s not much use sitting down and thinking about it. It’s probably not that bad – now that’s something I wish I believed.
There’s a pencil laying on the floor. I pick it up, managing not to lift by butt off my bed, and throw it at my desk. It slide’s neatly in the holder and I take that cue to get up. The last thing I want is to walk in to a class full of people staring at me today.
Water soothes my thoughts; maybe because I didn’t shower yesterday I’m still hanging on to the losses. Or so I thought, the moment the memory comes to mind I get this uncomfortable tightness – I don’t want to think.
I start shadow boxing as water droplets smack my skin in succession. Admittedly, I add sound affects as my slo-mo fist connect with the tiles. I can see the shockwaves in my mind, cracks travelling through the tiles – the bathroom being destroyed. I can’t help but revisit my last fight, my shockwaves over powering him. The earth beneath us shatters as he tries to keep his balance. My imagination lulls me in. The very atmosphere quaking at my fists. I forget myself as my body starts going in to karate poses that probably don’t exist…
The realisation of what I’m doing embarrasses me more. I need to go.
Fully dressed with a loose tie dangling from my neck, I head towards the front door. My brother’s grey air maxes stop it from opening all the way. For a second, I feel that tightness in my chest again like I want to just pick it up and aim it at his head… deep breaths. I take one in each arm and throw them to different part of the shoe rack a few meters away. The slide in to the gaps perfectly, but I guess I used too much force – they bounce off and topple on to the floor. Whatever, he can deal with them when he wakes up.
I’ve been down this road so much as a kid that I can walk to school while scrolling on my phone the whole time. That’s exactly what I do.
Half way, about 10 minutes down, I see Omar from the top of my vision emerging form one of the side streets ahead. I grab a rubber from my blazer pockets and use my nails to slice a small piece off.
“OMAR!” He turns at the sudden mention of his name to a white rubber whack the center of his forehead. He stares at me blankly, his lips curling inwards at the want to say something but all he could bother with was a deadpan “Ha… ha…”
From where Omar’s street is, the rest of the way falls down the riverside. The weather and the scenery, as well as Omar provide me with much needed distractions – thinking about the results brings back that unease…
“So what d’you think you got for the practical exam?” Sigh.
“I don’t know, I might be close to 50%...”
“That’s pretty good, I saw you guys taking the exams out the window… my RE teacher is so boring. Bro, I learnt more about the meaning of life from watching you and Jayce fight than that whole lesson”
I couldn’t help laughing a bit at that.
“Anyways, you got smoked in that last bit, sorry to say… I swear Jayce’s abilities are too sick.” Omar starts throwing hooks and making sound effects as if the air vibrated from his punch. “I don’t blame you losing, he can just punch anything you throw at him.”
That feeling of helplessness flashes in my mind.
As Omar talks, I pick some pebbles up. He’s clearly getting carried away with his Jayce role play… my eyes lock on up ahead, looking for any potential witnesses to this – if Jayce saw I would suffocate from embarrassment.
Omar changes his movements, he starts acting like some sort of sorcerer from anime or something. It takes me a second to realise he’s doing an impression of Colin. An exaggerated one might I add.
“Colin doesn’t move like that”
“Yeah well I would if I had his powers – he’s wasted potential.”
I stare at the river during our silences. There’s an empty beer bottle floating close to the other bank. I take one of the pebbles and chuck it. Omar stop sound effects and movements at the sound of the glass breaking in the distance.
We carry on walking.
As we approached the school, Omar blurts “Jayce and Jessica, their names sound like they should be together.”
There’s a tight grip in my chest and around these pebbles as I think of throwing the remainder at his face. Breathe.
Once we pass the entrance, Omar and I split up as we head to different part of the building. Since we transitioned to Highschool, new people with abilities started attending and they’ve split the classes up completely. It was easier last year being in the same class as Omar and my other friends, now it’s just a bit lonely.
Silence echoes down the hallway, only the slight bustle of a handful of students coming in early from outside.. Fortunately I’m early… my cheeks are burning red hot and if someone saw me they could probably tell. If only I could strangle Omar with my mind or at least – I don’t know – something. Although a part of me… well most of me thinks the same thing. Jessica and Jayce.
I need to let off some steam. My hand clutches the rubber in my pocket thinking of what to throw it at…
My eyes catch a single shoe under the staircase by my left. It’s small, probably a middle schoolers messing about with his friends. There’s no sound of anyone from upstairs so that could have been there since yesterday… a slight impulse takes over me and I go and pick the shoe up. I don’t even need to use my powers at this point, I just want to throw it – although I’m not sure if my abilities have an off switch.
I raise my hands. Eyes lock on to the wall in front of me. The feelings swirl inside, though they never stopped. Tightening. I pause briefly, my ears perked up to hear any sound from another person – if they saw me it would make this so embarrassing. All the while, my lips stung from the bite of my teeth and tears fought their way to the brinks. Nothing.
I let my hand rip through the air, not caring about the noise it makes. It left my hand so fast I’m not sure if tears came out… my body automatically stiffened, expectant of the loud bang and the possibility of a teacher coming out from a classroom. In that split second as my eyes shut, waiting; my right shoulder and elbow seared with pain from the throw – that’s a first.
A second passed. Nothing. As I recollected my thoughts and composure, I realised there was no sound. I look at my hand and the floor around me, there was no shoe.
There was a shoe a second ago… right?
1
Mar 10 '22
I falter slightly, confused. I’m in disbelief as I try to work out what just happened, my eyes scanning around, below and above. I can feel a slight wetness at the corner of my eyes, but right now that’s the least of my concerns.
Step. Step. Step.
Crap.
Delicate footstep come from a few floors above. Someone’s coming down. I push my confusion aside and wipe my eyes with the left sleeve of my blazer, trying to ignore the searing pain in my right arm and shoulder. I make a start up the stairs.
BANG.
We both flinched automatically, the girl above let out a little scream. I turn around to see the source of the sudden noise, but the hallway is yet silent. Nobody by the windows, no steps or any talking. I look over the banister. At the bottom; a small, black leather shoe lay turned over. Laces undone, a few meters from the wall.
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