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jleighwrites · 3 years

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A very specific fight scene

“I can not do that,” the man standing before him spoke. He wasn’t going to take that for an answer. He hadn’t come all this way to be turned down.

“You can not? Or you will not?” He hissed. His hands tensed at his sides, his fingers quivering. Vita’s face flashed into his mind, causing a lump to form in his throat. He clenched his teeth, glowering at the man with ferocity in his eyes. “If you refuse to assist me, then what use are you?”

He studied the man before him for a second; the only armor he wore was a heavily scuffed breastplate that seemed to be from an era before his own. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes gave away his age. The blade of [Adante’s] short sword was silent as he drew it, his knuckles white due to his grip on the hilt. “Are you certain of your choice?”

The false god stood his ground, pulling his spear into a defensive position. “I am not the man you seek, nor is any other man out there. If you can not accept this truth, it will swallow you whole,” the man advised. He was having none of it.

He held his sword above his head, his other hand out before him. “So be it,” he spat, “Die defending your ‘truth’.”

The blade cut through the air as he swung it at the man. A thunk sounded as he easily deflected it with the spear. He brought the back of it around and swept [Adante]’s feet out from under him. He landed on his back before rolling to the side, narrowly missing the tip of the spear’s blade as it was jammed into the dirt.

Taking the opportunity, he slashed at the man again. With agility that the man should have lost years ago, he used his spear to pull himself out of the way before the strike was able to land. Using his weight, he wrenched his weapon out of the ground.

“Either the legions have lost their touch or you must not be part of their forces,” the older man said with a chuckle. At that, [Adante] released a roar of frustration. He held his empty hand out before him as he pulled his sword back into position. Just then, they both noticed the midnight blue steam rolling off of his fingertips. The man’s eyes widened before he snapped his spear back into a defensive position, watching the young man carefully. “What magic do you possess, boy?” he called out.

“Let us find out together,” he said through his smirk. When he held out his hand, a large puff of the blue smoke coated his hand before dispersing. Nothing had happened, he thought, but the man’s pale face told him otherwise. He saw a slight movement in his peripheral vision.

When he glanced to his sides, he was taken aback. Two men that looked exactly alike stared back at him. They were about the same height and build as him and their golden locks matched his own. Both were holding short swords that were identical to the one in his grasp. “Could they really be…?” he thought to himself.

He directed his attention back to the issue at hand. With his thoughts, he commanded the copies to dash towards the man. When they reached him, they both slashed at the same time. The man quickly took a step back, both swords catching his breastplate. A grin spread across [Adante]’s face as pride welled in him at the two new gashes on the man’s armor.

When the spear came at them, they didn’t flinch. On impact, they evaporated into dark blue mist. Both men were left speechless. “That is no magic, boy. You have the curse,” the man spoke in an eerily hushed voice. He simply smiled.

“Curse?” he chuckled, “What I’ve been given is an opportunity.” Smoke began seeping out of the ground until soon, they were engulfed in a patch of midnight colored fog. The man wasn’t prepared for four copies of the blonde haired boy to appear around him. He whipped his spear around fast enough to see two of them burst into mist. When he felt a slash across the back of one of his knees, he cried out against the searing pain. He dropped to the ground, kneeling on his good knee. One of the remaining copies dissipated, revealing the true [Adante].

He kicked the spear away from the man before placing his leather boot on his breastplate and pushing him over. The man felt the tip of a blade against his throat. His gaze followed it up to meet the boy’s. A couple strands of blonde hair hung down in his face, which was gleaming with a cruel grin. “You put up an honorable fight, brother. What name shall I remember you by?”

“The gods conceal from men the happiness of death, that they may endure life,” muttered the man.

“Your name, soldier,” [Adante] demanded.

“I am known as Longinus,” he replied with his last breath. In one swift motion, [Adante] finished him.

#writing #historical fiction #fiction #fantasy #magic

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jleighwrites · 3 years

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Through the Looking Glass [Unedited]

Quen inspected himself in the glowing mirror, knowing that the reflection was truly his own. He stood at 5 foot 8; a bit short, but he didn't mind. His ochre skin was clear and his hair was cut into a clean blowout. Apparently that was popular back in the 20's. His amber-colored eyes gleamed back at him, tarnished only by the dark circles underneath. Many of his acquaintances had gotten rid of theirs, but he liked how it made him feel human.

When he was finished getting ready for the day, he stepped into the hall and made his way to one of his family's augmented reality chambers, or ARCs for short. When he reached the door, he took out his personal ID and held it in front of a small screen next to the door. It beeped once before flickering to life.

"Quenton Jarod Harris, Junior attending Paulson R. Stewart High. Would you like to begin Classes for the day?" it asked in a robotic voice.

"Yes," he replied.

"Creating Scenario… Connecting to server… Finalizing… Start-up complete. Have a good day, Quenton Harris."

He swung the door open and was met by a bustling school hallway. Dozens of beautiful faces were chatting with each other, walking past each other, and scrambling to finish assignments that should've been done the night before. He let the door creak shut behind him and it disappeared into the wall. He hadn't taken two steps before the robotic voice was back.

"Message received. Sender : Juulia Brewer. Would you like to open the message?" Quen let out a heavy breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He regretted having skipped coffee this morning. The system repeated itself, "Would you like to open the message?"

"Yes."

An opaque, digital, blue message box appeared before him. As he walked, it stayed in the same position, phasing through classmates as he went, but they didn't flinch. To be fair, they couldn't even see it on their side.

Morning!! :DDD

In cafeteria.

Meet there??? uwu

Quen rolled his eyes at the emotes. Juuls had an obsession with "Millennial Texting", as she called it. In fact, she was kind of a nerd for it. She was the only one that had taken an interest in that era. American History classes taught them that the first 30 years of the century were dark times, but somehow Juulia managed to find light in them.

He reached out and pressed the X in the top right corner of the message box, causing it to blink away. "Hey, Google?" he called.

"What can I help with?"

"Teleport me to the Cafeteria."

"Sure. Now teleporting Quenton Harris to the cafeteria."

The noises and sight of the hallway faded into a blue void. Here, it was relaxing. Here, he could breathe easy. And just like that, it was gone. The void transformed into the cafe and the garbled mess of voices was back.

He scanned the faces before him one by one, trying to discern his friend in the sea of Glowing radiance. On the days that he had to use ARC, it was always significantly harder to recognize Juulia. With ever-changing hair colors and styles, vast varieties of makeup, and feature correction, the only way he could tell the difference was when their name appeared in front of them when he met their gaze.

A girl sitting a few tables down stood up and began to wave her arm around; he didn't have to see her to know it was Juuls. Disregarding the built-in recognition program, the greeting was a dead giveaway. She did this almost every morning, whether in person or through ARC.

He made his way through the crowd, literally. Instead of bumping shoulders with people, their holograms simply phased through him. The chamber, however, did produce realistic copies of inanimate objects. He plopped down on the nanobit replica of a bench at his school's lunch table.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Oh. Em. Eff. Gee. You literally took forever, lol," Juulia replied. A couple students around the two of them glanced their direction, giving them odd looks.

"Proximity chat," Quen reminded her. He took a moment to adapt to her new look. He assumed that she had been trying to look like one of those 'E-girls' that she was always on about. With neon pink hair, a beanie, and dark makeup, she looked completely different than she did yesterday.

"Oof. They just don't have good taste. The 20's were so… Lit."

"That's new."

"What? Lit? It just means, like, cool, but better."

"You're so weird."

"Pog."

And with that, the bell rang. Immediately, he was sucked back into the loading void briefly before being spit out into his first class of the day. He took his seat as the teacher appeared in the room. She was beautiful and could pass for 25, though she was actually 20 years older.

"Alright everyone, sit down please. Today, we'll be talking about why we're here. We all know that the early years were just about as bad as they could get. But they had some major influence on how things work in modern day."

Juulia would be bouncing off of the walls if she were here right now. Fortunately, she didn't have this class until after lunch. He was spared of her over-enthusiasm for now.

"Did you know that ARC was developed a few years after the events of the Covid 19 pandemic? It took a while, but when it was released to the public it was an instant success. Can you believe they used to hold classes through video chats on a computer?"

A hand in the back went up. The teacher motioned towards the student, urging her to ask her question. "What's a computer?" It seemed that everyone had been wondering the same thing, Quen included, because they all shifted their vision from the student to the teacher.

The teacher chuckled. "It was a large device that used to be kept on desks before technology was integrated into Glass."

"They only had technology on the 'computer'?" another student asked.

"I mean, they had other forms of technology. They had smart watches, smartphones, smart TVs… But most of their time connected to the internet was spent on a computer or on the smartphone, which is what we now call our Shard."

Quen had to admit, everything about the early 21st century was something else. But where it intrigued Juuls, it brought up a bad taste for him. To him, it was just the beginning of the death of authenticity.

After what felt like hours of droning, the class was finally wrapping up. Google's voice broke him from his thoughts. "Message received. Sender : Crystalinne Harris. Message saved for later."

"I've sent an assignment reminder to all of you. Your homework is a 500 word essay on what 'Facebook' was before it created Glass."

He scoffed at the assignment before the next bell rang, whisking him off to his second class.

When the final bell of the day rang, the low hum enveloping him whirred into silence as ARC powered down. Without the machine running, he stood in a room made up of nanobits. The tiny metal balls made up the walls, floor, ceiling, and even this side of the door. All of them worked to create the illusion of being in an actual school, when in reality, he'd been inside a room no more than 10 feet wide and 10 feet long all day.

He stepped out of the chamber and made his way into the kitchen, where he was met by his mother and father. "How was school today?" She asked. His father pulled a latte from the Keurig and sipped it as he waited for a response.

"It was alright. Just another day," he replied, "Dinner smells good."

"Oh, yeah. They delivered lemon pepper steak and asparagus today. All of our portions are already in the oven."

"That's… Lit," he said, a smug sense of pride flickering within.

"That's funny, son. Haven't heard that since Gran was alive. Get that from, what's her name? Jessica?"

"Juulia. Yeah." His father's beard was getting shaggy, he noticed. Since he had started using Glass, he had been letting it grow out. Seemingly, it didn't bother him much any more. His father had been adamant about leaving Glass alone for most of his life and had taught him to do the same, but when Grey hairs began to appear, he decided to finally give in.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised. Glass was wildly popular internationally. It had originally been bought out by the American government in 2040, probably for facial tracking, and integrated into every single building since then. It was everywhere. He and his dad were two of only six or seven people that he knew of that didn't use it. But now, he couldn't even say that.

After dinner, he had decided to take a hot shower. The water on his skin felt nice and he let the steam relax his muscles. When he finished, he dried off and wrapped his towel around his waist. Stepping in front of the mirror, a pleasant chime sounded.

"Glass activated," a voice with a programmed British accent sounded through the surrounding speakers. The edges of the mirror lit with a white backlight and menus appeared on the screen in glowing, white letters. A box formed around his face, his name appearing above it. "User : Quenton Harris detected. Set nickname : Quen."

He began to comb his hair into place when the voice rang out, "Quen, would you like to use the Autofix function?" A white bar highlighted the "Autofix" option on the menu.

"No," He replied sternly.

He finished with his hair and quickly brushed his teeth. When he smiled so that he could check them, the voice came again, "Light enamel stains detected. Would you like to use the Autofix function?"

"No."

It was irritating to hear it trying to coerce him into using it, knowing that it used that method to get so many people addicted to it. He simply shook his head. That's how it starts. A quick fix here, a minor upgrade there…

He pulled on a sleep shirt and some sweatpants, tossed his towel into the laundry chute, and headed for his room. He needed to write his essay and get some rest for the next day. It would be Tuesday, which meant live classes.

Quen's alarm beeped, rousing him from his slumber. He sat up in bed and stretched, before lowering himself to the floor. "1, 2, 3, 4…" he counted the sit-ups in his head as he started his quick morning workout routine. He had always been physically active. Staying healthy had been a big goal for him. The way things were now, even with the best Healthcare, people hardly ever made it past their 50's. He wouldn't let himself be a victim of the system.

50 sit-ups, crunches, and push ups later, he stood up. Began getting dressed for the day. A white button up and a tie, he wanted to look nice. Of course, Glass attempted to goad him into Autofixing himself, and just like every other day, he had none of it.

Finally, he felt confident. He was ready for the day. He grabbed his backpack from the back of his desk chair after ensuring that his report on Facebook was packed. Since he was heading out of the house, he also snagged his Shard from the charging pad and shoved it into the pocket of his black jeans.

He strode down his driveway and stopped next to his mailbox. After a few minutes, a large, white bus with no windows arrived. He climbed in and heard a chime over the bus' speakers. The British voice spoke, "Quenton Harris has boarded."

He made his way to an empty seat and plopped down. The first thing he noticed, like always, was the smell. An amalgam of body odors swirled around the cramped space, making him sick to his stomach.

Inside the bus, you could see the surroundings on the installed Glass screens, almost like windows. He turned his focus to the passing buildings as he tried to block out the horrendous scent surrounding him. He was one of the last stops, so he wouldn't have to endure it for very long. He slid his Shard out of his pocket and began to read the day's headlines. The war overseas was still raging on, as expected. The weekly universal paycheck rate was 31 dollars more than the last. And another round of the Meta-Vaccine was going to be made available before fall, hopefully to prevent as many infections as possible.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of the real Paulson R. Stewart High. When the doors creaked open, the automated voice announced that it was time to evacuate. He passed by the empty driver's seat and stepped out onto the curb, letting fresh air flow into his lungs. For the first time since last Thursday, he smiled.

Quen enjoyed the few moments he had in the outdoors as he strode to the entrance. Biding his time, he held the door open for other students. Unfortunately, he knew he had to go in.

He stepped into the real hallway, which looked almost exactly the same as it did in the ARC replica. There were three main differences. First, the smell. Just like on the bus, it was everywhere. It absorbed every crevice, every corner. It was disgusting. As much as it bothered him, no one else seemed to mind.

Second, the students he saw today were nothing like the ones that had been in his simulation yesterday. Where beautiful faces surrounded him before, he was now engulfed in a sea of low effort. Hair was frizzy, tangled, and out of place. Clothes were wrinkled and stained. And the worst, it was obvious that most of his classmates didn't take care of themselves. They were supposed to reach the peak of their physicality at ages 16 through 18. If this is what "peak" looked like, he understood why the average life expectancy was decreasing.

Third, Glass was everywhere. It made up all of the windows, all of the mirrors, and even lined the walls in some places. It kept track of each student as they navigated the hallways. The 'Assistant' feature was turned off, which meant no obnoxious voice trying to pressure him into anything, but it still worked it's magic in the reflections. Each user's Autofix settings synced up with every Glass that was linked to the system, which was - legally - all of them.

It disgusted him, the way people walked around, acting all high and mighty. Just because they never had to see their true selves didn't mean that no one would. The problem was, they didn't care. After graduation, They would be assigned a home, a mate, and a job. And after that, the only ones that would have to see them would be their direct family. All other interactions would be carried out in ARC, which had a partnership with Glass.

These moments, here, in Paulson R. Stewart High, were the last bits of his fleeting reality. Someone bumped into his shoulder, causing him to stumble out of the way. A bigger guy wearing a pair of eyeGlass gave him a strange look. "Sorry, man. Hard to tell the days apart," his apology sounded genuine, "Your fix looks nice."

"Don't worry about it. And thanks, but it's not an Autofix," Quen replied. The guy chuckled for a moment before tilting his head down to peek over his eyeGlass.

"No kidding. Well, good for you, man. Between you and me, they really need to get it together," he said, looking over the crowd. He shifted his gaze back to Quen, "Compared to us, they look pretty rough."

The sad thing was, he probably hadn't seen his true self in years. "Yeah, man. Well, see you around." Quen left him behind and began walking towards the cafeteria. There was only one person he wanted to talk to.

An arm linked through his, and through a haze of vanilla scented perfume, a familiar voice chimed, "Bruh, you got here earlier than me today. That's wack." He didn't have to look to know who it was. When he turned to her, he was engulfed by her radiance. She was authentic. She was real.

#short story #sci fi #writing #fiction #technology #future #Spotify

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