Alonzo groggily looked up at the green glow emanating from his alarm clock on the upper shelf next to his bed. It read 06:14, which meant the time was actually about 06:09. Apparently, he had slept through both of his alarms. The teen groaned, forced his eyes open, and dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.
Maybe staying up until three o'clock playing vidya isn't a such a great idea when I have to wake up at six the next morning, Alonzo thought to himself as he almost dozed of for the third time under the hot blanket of water that cascaded over him. I should get out before I accidentally drown myself in my sleep.
He wrapped the towel around his waist as he exited the bathroom
blah blah
"What do you mean, mom?" he replied dispassionately as he peeled his banana and scrolled through his social media notifications, not really paying attention to what she was saying.
"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" she said sternly.
blah blah
"Even the reader knows it and is sick of you by now," she said, pointing outward.
"How are you pointing like that?"
Emily?
Oh, you never mentioned you had a sister. Is she like you? Oh, she is, she is. You should bring her sometime.
Nonsense! What, are you two kids that cry to mom and dad when you find something scary? She can certainly take it, she's old enough. Oh come on, the Library is not scary! It's just different. You know as well as I do that half of anyone worth knowing would kill to get to into it, let alone learn of its innermost mechanisms.
You should call her.
Yes, now.
Well because we need to meet her, you goof! You're certainly in no place to be making demands after that last fuck up.
Transcribed from a lecture given by Peter Illiam, professor of Eschatological Biology at the University of Alexandria, 523 U.C.
Reapers are everywhere. They neither live nor die, like the Angels, but have always been here and always will be. You may or may not have one living in your house, sleeping in your bed. If they do not wish to be seen, then they won't be seen unless you possess the eyes of the Old, and even then they disguise themselves as men.
They watch over humans as we scramble about our everyday lives. Every word spoken, every look given, every touch felt, they know.
They know.
Now, despite the misleading title, the Reapers are classified as Advancement-types, like the Guardians and the Aides; however, as stated before, Reapers are not born out of deceased humans like more eschatological beings are. They are immortal through and through and prefer to avoid stepping into our mortal realm if possible; however, they always hang on the cusp of the border, right where they can see and hear us, where they can whisper into our ears, thoughts of doubt, ideas of aggression. No other group of higher beings exhibits so much influence or power over each and every one of our lives. The Reapers know how to turn humans against humans just by planting tiny seeds of dissonance within their minds.
How is this considered Advancement?
Well, the Reapers purposely breed conflict between peoples. Not necessarily violence or rage, but just pure and simple conflict, which festers in one's mind until it is released. How far that conflict goes is typically up to the individual. Now, professors have now come to the conclusion that Reapers do this benevolently, as dozens upon dozens of witnesses with Old eyes have previously reported witnessing the Reapers stop certain over-the-top battles and issues, mostly if it pertains to the helpless or the needy. There are even a few testimonies of those that have had the opportunity to speak with the Reapers, citing that they wish to advance society through disagreement.
Disagreement breeds competition, which in turn breeds progress in order for one opponent to best the other. Life cannot be lived without battles, for stagnation is the key to regression and death.
Now, loose knowledge of Reapers and other eschatological entities has been tossed around like children's ghost stories in the past. As such, facts get twisted, people misconstrue things, you get the picture. Take, for example, the Union of Separation, an anti-humanitarian group formed in circa 400 U.C., that was founded on the basis of attracting and working in tandem with the Reapers. However, it was apparently decided by the beings that discord was better utilized in turning the group against one another, rather than their methods of provoking peasants and pillaging farmers. Or the Rebellion Guild, which fell apart after trying to duel the elderly. These are just two examples of the vast number of groups that have formed in hopes of attracting these elusive yet ever-present creatures.
You'll notice that both of these groups were focusing on targets, easy victims, which obviously does not breed the conflict Reapers hope to achieve. It's the cowardice in human hearts at work, here. A fearful group can never hope to truly ally with the Reapers. Only one, formed out of pure dissent from an equally or even more powerful body, can even hope to accomplish this. Those Sowers of Discord will only come when the time is right, and I certainly hope that time isn't anytime soon.
This concludes the lecture for today. Please study up on Doppelgangers before the next time we meet. Have a nice break.
There was an artist, a musician, and a writer, all of whom were the best in the land at what they did. However, all of them were recluses, and spent all their available time working on their craft. Every day, Life spoke to them.
"There is a world that awaits, why do you not seek it?" she whispered in their ears.
"I am not done translating the world around me yet," replied the artist.
"My music is not ready for the world," replied the musician.
"I make my own world, what need have I for the known one?" replied the writer.
And so, time passed and all three remained stagnant. Visitors would come and see the wondrous works they had made, and praise them highly. But no matter what the people proclaimed, each creator saw imperfections in their work.
"It doesn't resemble life," mused the artist.
"The melody could flow more fluidly," mused the musician.
"This world could use more work," mused the writer.
Chapter the 17th: A Call for Finality
John looked over the scene he had crafted. Marianne was stretched taught across the symbols. She had fallen asleep again. He kicked her with all of his might.
"Wake up. It's time to play!" Johnny laughed. "C'mon!"
The woman started with a yelp (or as much of a yelp as one can manage while gagged), and looked at John. Her eyes pleaded with him. His eyes and smirk answered back with a negative. Slowly, as he
New, from Dr. Wondertainment! The No-No Fix-o-maticTM!
The scene I saw was… remarkable. Dozens upon dozens of people had gathered onto this stark factory floor. There were maybe six or seven people in the middle of the crowd who appeared to be statues composed of various cogs and gears. It was unnervingly quiet in the room, given all the people that were crammed in there. The sound of ticking with no apparent source underlay the entire congregation.
The scene was still for at least an hour, possibly even two. I would have fled, had I not been so terrified of the thought of attracting the attention of this cult. The incessant tickticktick dug a nail further and further into my mind with ever passing second. Even today, I hear it, as present as my heartbeat.
The silence was broken with screaming. A lad, no older than ten or eleven, was being dragged into the crowd by two stony-faced men. The boy's cries were nearly deafening after the silence I had just endured, yet none in the crowd responded other than to part in order to clear a path to the center. Once there, the captors forced the boy to his knees, each putting one hand on the child's closest shoulder to keep him down. The statues began to speak.
"What is the most joyous sound?"
"The beating of a broken heart," the two responded simultaneously.
"What have you brought to the Church?"
"A new gear for the machine."
"Is it prepared to enter?
The boy tried to speak, but was interrupted by the men.
"By our blood, it will go beyond the flesh."
At this point, a different statue retrieved two copper-colored knives and handed one to each man.
"You may proceed."
Two of the crowd stepped forward to hold the boy in place as the original captors turned to face the boy.
"Dad… why are you doing this?" he said to one. "Pop… what's going on?" he asked the other.
Neither responded verbally, instead raising their knives to about shoulder height before plunging them into their own palms. One of them pried the boy's mouth open with the undamaged hand and held his palm over it as he said, "For this blood is the blood of our God, and we share it so that He may grow." The other followed suit.
"The heathen has begun the conversion. The patron Faithful will now escort our new brother into the Chamber of Time."
The bloodied men nodded, once again took control of the child, and shoved him off into the crowd. After a while, the rest of the group silently dispersed. It was only after I was sure none were left that I felt it was safe to make my exit. I did not dare search for the boy.
- Book of Potential Article
* Something about the complete extermination of "pests" and the aftereffects?
* Creation of false animals to stabilize environment
* Or, enhancement to already existing pests that make them more "useful" to the society