Dialogue Prompt: “Their job wasn’t to save you.”
Alright, I confess-this ran a little bit over an hour (I started early). I…got a little carried away.
“Oh, sir, thank you,
thank you for saving me from those awful men!”Lillie
very nearly winced to hear the words even as they came out of her
mouth. That had to be
laying it on too thick. If she’d done any acting that bad back in her
brief sojourn into college theatre, her own classmates would have
dragged her off the stage. But the man in the mask and goggles didn’t
seem to notice. Supervillains generally didn’t, she’d found; it was
like you weren’t speaking their language if you didn’t ham it up as
much as possible.“Save
you? My dear, I’m afraid you
misunderstand the situation.” The man in the mask chuckled darkly.
His smug declarations could have benefited from a deeper voice and
probably a British accent, but he actually wasn’t doing too badly
with a slight Midwestern drawl, and Lillie had to admit, he did
have a pretty good dark chuckle.
Not the best she’d heard, but better than she would have expected for
essentially an amateur.
Tag: short stories
Humans are Loyal if Properly Bonded
I was in charge of feeding the prisoners. This had been my task since the Queen had taken me and 2 dozen other Murania as hostages. The others had not survived long, but I adapted. Obeyed.
The Queen had taken a human. A rare being this far into the Deep, but one feared from one end of the galaxy to the other. According to the Encyclopedia of Sentient Beings Capable of Space Travel, humans needed a diet of roughly 2000 calories a sol served in traditional 3 portions a sol. Which meant that I had to approach the human three times a sol. I could not fail my duties.
The first attempt at feeding the large being ended with a tray thrown at my head with enough force that it would have caved my skull if I had not ducked in time. The human was raging, slamming their entire body against the containment bars with enough force to shake the floor and… and roaring. I cleaned the mess of nutrient paste as fast as I could and fled.
But five hours later found me trembling in front of the human’s cage with another tray of nutrient paste. The human had calmed and was glaring at me intently. I knew they did not speak Murania, but still I spoke my native language as I offered the food again. I did not get to speak it often and missed the sound. “Guria?”
The human tilted their head and to my shock, repeated the word, then repeated it again until they mimicked the sound perfectly, even with the slight whistle at the end.
I offered the tray. “Guria.”
They eyed it suspiciously so I tasted it, showing it to be safe. “Guria.”
They held their hand out and I gave them the tray, scuttling to a safe corner before they could attack me with it again.
They tilted their head again and scowled, then spoke in broken Common. “I thank”
I fled, claws scratching against the shiny floor.
Another five hours passed all too soon and I was back at the human’s cage with the final meal of the sol. They were moving slowly around the cage with their ear pressed to the wall, tapping with their knuckles. I watched them for a moment, confused at the erratic behaviour, but only managed a few seconds of observation before their head swiveled directly towards me and they stopped to face me.
I walked closer and offered the tray. “Guria.”
They took it. “How talk thank in you mouth talk?”
“Meesh Meesh.”
They opened their mouth and let out a loud, short bark, a laugh according to the ESBCST. (I studied it dutifully when they were brought aboard.) “Meesh Meesh!” They pointed to themselves. “Michael.”
My wings ruffled, the sound was so similar! I pointed to myself, “Mikel”
The human shook their head and pointed to themselves. “Me Michael.”
I jerked my head in an upward motion called a nod. “Yes, you,’ I pointed to them, “Michael.” I pointed to myself. “I, Mikel.”
They laughed again. “Michael, Mikel. Much same.”
I chittered. “Very similar, yes.”
Their eyes narrowed. “You work here?”
I bobbed sideways, a bit noncommittal, “As I must.”
“Must work?”
I searched for the simplest way to translate what I meant across the language barrier. “No work, in there.” I pointed to their cage. “Work, out here.” I hopped encouragingly. “You work soon, yes?”
The human bared their teeth and snarled. “No work. Fight.”
My wings flattened against my spine and I fled. Humans were so aggressive.
The next sol I completed my first duties and then found myself lingering outside the containment hall. I was apprehensive about what mood I would find the human in this time. I fluffed my wings out to convey confidence and clicked in with the human’s first meal.
“Mikel! Guria?” They were bouncing on the front part of their feet, hopping up and touching the ceiling, then dropping to the floor and pushing themselves up with their arms repeatedly.
“Yes. What are you doing?” I slid the tray to where they could reach and backed to a… well not safe but safer, distance.
“Work body. Stay strong.” They flopped over onto their back and turned their head to look at me. “Meesh Meesh.”
“Zuan.” I bobbed sideways before deciding to ask them the question I had been mulling over. “You’re Nice, mean, nice, mean.”
Michael laughed. “Yeah. Head bad.” They hooked their fingers like claws and shook them around their head. “Scare, tired, Fight.” They gestured to the bars and glared. “Not like.”
I nodded. “I know that feeling.” A chime sounded, signaling the Queen’s approach. I flattened myself to the floor and made way.
The Queen slithered in, her scaled body scraping against the floor with a sound that made my feathers stand up. She reared to her full two meter height and flicked her tongue out to taste the air.
“Human. You are mine now, you will serve the glory of me.”
Michael looked her up and down and whistled lowly then pronounced in exact Common. “Ugly. Mother. Fucker.”
I gaped at them in horror. They dared insult the Queen to her face?
The Queen hissed, but smugly coiled. “You will serve me, human. I know your kind. You are loyal. I feed you, I provide you shelter. I give you safety. You will love me.”
The human backed up, crouching into a fighting stance. “No love, mother fucker.”
The Queen wiggled and slid towards the exit. “You will serve me.” They paused to pat me on the head. “You have duties, tiny one.”
The next several sols passed in the same manner. I did my duties, I fed the human, we exchanged words. At night I tended my secret garden grown in glasses of water and composted nutrient paste from seeds and cuttings I snuck from the Queen’s hoard. The human was learning not only Common but Murania at a breathtaking pace. We could hold whole conversations now and I was no longer… completely apprehensive about approaching their cage. Michael had not acted aggressive towards me at all since the Queen’s visit.
The rare human plant called a “green bean” plant had fruited after several months of care and pollinating with the tip of my own feather. I was ecstatic over the first fruits of my secret labor and I felt that Michael would appreciate my excitement and maybe a taste of his home planet. Humans were said to be incredibly empathetic and sentimental.
That morning I secreted a pair of bean pods in my uniform and headed for Micheal’s cage. They seemed to notice something was different right away, peering at me with concern. “All okay, Mikel?”
I nodded and nervously whispered. “Secret, right?”
They lowered their voice and moved closer to the bars. “Yeah, secret.”
I showed him the beans. “I grew these. It’s the first harvest from the plant! It’s a huge secret, but I wanted you to have them.”
Michael stared at the beans with an expression I didn’t recognize for a long time before whispering, their voice strangely rough. “You get trouble for these?”
I nodded and tried to shove the beans into their hands. “Yes, a lot of trouble. Take them!”
They took them and smiled. “Meesh Meesh, Mikel. This…. This mean lot to me. I can’t say enough. Meesh Meesh.” They bit into one and grinned, crunching happily. “Very good! You do good!”
I chittered and ruffled my wings, pleased with the praise. “Zuan, Michael.” I gave them their tray of nutrient paste and fled.
The next day (human word for sol) I found a broken something in the Queen’s trash bin. It was silvery and had a lot of moving parts and made me think of Michael. I shoved it into my uniform and snuck it to Michael. They were overjoyed and immediately began fiddling (another human word I find pleasant to use) with it.
I found I enjoyed making Michael happy and kept my eyes out for things to gift them. A broken flute, a torn book, a shiny rock shard, a discarded pipe, a bit of string. It all was random junk, but Michael was still so happy for each item. It… was a pleasant feeling, almost like being back with my brood mates.
Then… Then the alarms sounded one morning and the ship rocked with an explosion. Frightened, I grabbed my precious green bean plant and rushed instinctively towards Michael’s cage.
Only to find they weren’t there. The bars were broken, bent outward and a piece of the wall was torn open, exposing sparking wires and smashed circuits. The lights were flickering and I could hear screaming. I decided to run for the escape pods and hoped that the Queen died in that explosion.
I had barely skittered into the hallway when I found Michael. They were fighting with a guard twice their size, but easily leaped around it’s bulk and stabbed it in the base of the skull with some sort of spear. A primitive weapon, but still deadly in the hands of the human. Michael rode the body of the guard down to the ground and leaped off, brandishing the spear at me.
Frozen in fear, I distantly realized the weapon was made from the shiny rock tied to a piece of pipe. I was to die from a weapon I provided then.
Except, Michael lowered the weapon and smiled. “Mikel! I find you! Come on! We get out of here!”
“Out… Escape?”
“Yeah! C’mon, I stole codes for ship!”
I followed them numbly, too scared and shocked to process that not only had a single human escaped a 1st class prison cell with just bits of junk, but had also destroyed the Pirate Queen’s ship, and was taking me with them.
It wasn’t until we were flying fast and far from the wreckage, headed towards a Trading Station, that I found my voice. “Why… Why would you save me? I…” I didn’t know how to express the fact that I was nothing, tiny, worth only for cleaning while the human was strong, big, and apparently a fearsome and brilliant warrior.
Michael glanced at me from the corner of their eyes. “We friends, Mikel. Friends no leave friends. Also, you trapped like me. On other side of bars, but trapped same.”
“Friends? But Queen provided for you, you were supposed to bond with her?!”
The human looked at me incredulously before laughing long and loud, his head thrown back with the effort of it. “No Bond with Queen, she put me in cage. You! You give me food, you talk, teach, you bring me presents. You good friend. Queen Piece of Shit.”
“Oh.” Michael had bonded with me. And.. I with them it seemed. And we were free. “Meesh meesh, Michael. You’re a good friend too.” I hugged my green bean plant. “What now?”
“I thinking I turn in Queen head for bounty, use money buy good ship again. After, you want go home or you want explore?”
My wings flared in excitement. “Can I have a garden room on our ship?”
Michael grinned and tossed his arm (gently) around my shoulders. “Yes, you have garden room. Grow lots plant in space. Explore! Garden! New Planet! New Seed!”
Human’s are loyal if properly bonded part 2
When Michael and I arrived at the trading station we were immediately swarmed by a pack of humans that pounced on them, squeezing and punching and other violent forms of affection as they whooped at each other in one of the many, many human dialects. I had a brief moment of panic that they would abandon me to go with their own species, but they turned to me after a minute, their arm still slung around another human’s shoulders, and introduced me in Common.
“Mikel! These friends! Alice, Cooper, Rayla, and Mina. All one, this Mikel. They friend!”
The humans smiled at me, though one looked concerned and rattled off a stern sounding phrase in human. Michael looked like they had been struck and shook their head, making a negative noise. The other human, Alice, persisted and Michael seemed to shrink down, hunching their shoulders and hanging their head.
They turned pleading eyes on me. “Hey, Alice need ask question. Uh… Rules? Safe rules. Okay?”
I bowed respectfully. “I will answer any questions as best I can.”
Alice mimicked my bow and spoke in perfect common. “Hello, Mikel. Can I speak to you alone? I just have a few questions. It’s a matter of protocol and won’t take long.”
I clamped my wings nervously to my back but nodded. “Will… Will Michael still be here after?”
Michael made an offended noise. “I no leave you!”
She smiled softly. “Yes, he will be waiting for you. Come with me please.” She led me down a few hallways and into a room where she had me perch and offered me a glass of water. I accepted and gave a few splashes to my green bean plant, named Toots by Michael with some form of humor I did not grasp, before sipping it gratefully.
“Now, Michael said that you were on the Pirate Queen’s ship?”
“Yes, I was a hostage from Murania working there. I cleaned and kept the prisoners properly fed.”
“I see. And he said you helped him escape?”
“Yes, though I did not realize at the time that was what I was doing.” At her concerned expression I hastened to add, “I am glad I helped, I just wish I could have done so knowingly. You humans can do a lot of unexpected damage with a shiny rock and some pipe.”
She nodded. “That is true. You’re planning on exploring now that you’re free?”
I nodded happily. “Yes! Michael said he would use the Queen’s bounty to buy a ship for us, one big enough for me to have a whole room to garden in!”
“Wouldn’t you rather go home? See your family?”
I clucked sadly. “No, all of my broodmates died on the Queen’s ship. Many were killed and eaten in front of me.”
“Your parents? Cousins? Surely you have other family. Why don’t you want to go home?”
I felt pressured and scolded and I did not like it. I stood and fluffed my feathers irritably. “I was barely more than a fledgling when I was taken. If I returned to my home planet it would be unfamiliar and sad, and my remaining family would expect me to be someone I have long since ceased to be. I have spent the last several years being the perfect servant, doing what is expected of me, being what is expected of me. Maybe one day I will visit my home planet, but I do not want to be shoved into another role to play, even by well meaning relatives.”
Alice hummed. “So you really want to explore uncharted planets with a human?”
I hopped decidedly. “Yes! Human Michael is my friend, and I theirs I am teaching them my language and Common, they are teaching me about humans. I enjoy their company, and they enjoy mine! It is an excellent situation and I do not like your questions!”
She smiled and leaned back in her seat. “That is good. I am happy for you both.”
I squinted suspiciously. “You did not sound happy before.”
She laughed softly. “It’s protocol. Unfortunately, humans seem to be pretty intimidating to other species. We found there was a huge problem with other species going along with what we wanted out of fear, so we started a rule that before a major life altering decision was made by another species, we would have another human try question them to make sure it was actually what they wanted.” She leaned forward again and tried to make eyecontact with me. “That said, I need you to know that if you ever feel threatened by Michael, if he ever hurts you or makes you feel unsafe, my team will move you to safety, okay?”
I nodded. “That is appreciated, but I feel unnecessary.”
Alice smiled and handed me a slip of paper with a hailing frequency. “I feel it is too, but just in case, here is a way to contact us if you need to get away. Michael’s in the Ship Bay.”
I tucked the paper into the bow adorning Toots’ pot. “I thank you, human Alice. May I return to Michael now? I wish to give my opinion on what ship we might get for our adventures.”
“Of course, Mikel. And it is good to meet you. By the way, the hailing frequency will reach a non human who is experienced with dealing with humans.”
I nodded and clicked out of the room. Michael had better not get that stupid T91Z he had been talking about. The sublight engines were shit and the extra hull plating did NOT make up for it. Hull plating would not ‘do for shit’ if the sublight engines gave out a month of propulsion hours from a light speed route.
As I awkwardly hopped along the hallway I suddenly realized that I was no longer forbidden from flying. Nervously, I spread my wings and flapped, propelling myself a few meters ahead. I chittered in excitement and continued hop gliding towards the ship bay, loving the stretch in long neglected muscles.
It was nice that humans tried to protect me from other humans. They were kind like that. Humans were big, loud, strong, vicious, and aggressive, but they were also kind, loyal, and protective.
If a bit stupid at times.
“We are NOT flying the Deep in a fucking T91Z, Michael!” I squawked indignantly.
Michael bumped their head on the stabilizer strut and backed guiltily away with a muttered. “But hull plating…”
“Fuck. No.” I strutted towards a much more practical CB39. Fuck was a human word I very much enjoyed. It was perfectly emphatic and versatile and was the only word in the four languages I knew that could succinctly sum up the emotions a stubborn human would inflict.
Several hours, a few shed feathers, a shouting match, and a satisfying bargaining episode with a very nervous ship dealer while a large human loomed over my shoulders with their arms crossed, Michael and I boarded our new BE73 named Mike’n’Mike.
I carefully set Toot’s pot in the piloting bay and stood back to look at our new ship.
“Look good home.” Michael tapped the wall with their knuckles.
I preened contentedly. “It does look like a good home.”
Look out Deep, Mikel is coming for you with a fucking human at her back.
Everyone is born with 3 dates on their wrist. One represents when you will accomplish your life’s goal, one is when you will meet your soulmate, and one is when you will die right down to the second. Yours are all the same day within a minute of each other.
I was five years old when I found out what the numbers on our wrists were. It was whispered about on the playground, imparted in the same hushed tones that would share bad words, or question the existence of Santa Claus, or discuss where babies really came from.
My best friend’s big brother had just hit one of his dates, at 13. The day he met his soulmate, a boy in the year above him at his new school.
At five, we didn’t use the word “soulmate”. The way Anna explained it to us was instead: “One of them is the day you finish your biggest goal, one of them is when you meet your true love, and one of them is when you’re gonna… die.” That last word was whispered, but we all still heard it and felt how ominous it was.
We compared our dates, because of course we did. Counting on our fingers how far away the dates were. Some of them were close together, some where not. My numbers were special, being all the same day. What a day that would be. But 26 sounded so very far away.
As I grew up, I realized that 26 was not really very old, though. For a while, I felt very put upon. It wasn’t fair that I was going to hit all three milestones within a minute of each other. Not even getting a chance to enjoy my success or my true love before it was time for me to die.
I was there when Anna met her husband to be. We were 19, and she had been talking about nothing else for like a month in advance. But we got lost in conversation, and when he knocked on her shoulder to hand her something she had dropped, she didn’t know what time it was.
But as she turned to face him, I saw the numbers light up on both of their wrists for a moment, and then fade away. And I knew. Of course, I could’ve told by the looks on their faces as well, they were ridiculously and immediately besotted. I don’t know if it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy or not, that priming yourself to meet your soulmate might make you more open to it when it happens, but I’ve seen it happen enough times to know that it’s the real deal either way.
It’s kind of strange, knowing what your life expectancy is like. The people with years ahead of them plan differently than the people who know they’re going to die young. I dated a bit, but never got serious. I’ve seen plenty of people have good relationships with people who are not their soulmates, perhaps even marriage and children, knowing that their soulmates are years away still.
But for me, I never got super into any relationship. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. And kids were never an option for me. Not that I didn’t want them, but leaving them motherless so young seemed cruel.
So I threw myself into my work. For me, my goal was to write a story that had a real impact on someone else’s life. A lot of the people I knew who were destined to die young had goals like mine, wanting to leave some kind of lasting impact on the world.
Researching my story, I made contact with a brilliant surgeon named Kathryn. She lived in another city, but we had a good online relationship. She was funny and smart, and didn’t treat me like I was crazy when I came with her with strange medical hypotheticals to work out for my story.
I put her first in the list of people I wanted to dedicate the book to, and invited her to the big release party, and to my surprise she said yes. I hadn’t told her it was on my date. I hadn’t told anyone about my dates for a long time.
I sat at a little table to sign my book for anyone who wanted it, and my publisher’s daughter came up, clutching the book to her chest and with a look of awe on her face that made me smile to myself.
“Miss Daren? I just wanted to tell you, this book changed how I look at myself, and…”
She kept talking, but I could barely hear her, because I noticed one of my dates had just flashed up and then faded away on my arm. So this is it, I thought to myself, as I smiled at the girl and signed her book when she offered it to me. My life’s goal all out of the way.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned around just to come face to face with the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Tall and dark, with her braided hair in an advanced style and wearing an amazing red dress. I recognized her immediately from the photos I’d seen of her online.
“Kathryn?” I sighed, both so happy to finally see her in person and realize that hey, I actually got to know my soulmate, just without knowing that that was who she was, and at the same time so angry at a world that would give me such perfect happiness just to snatch it away. Angry at a world that would make me hurt her like this.
She had seen the numbers flash up on both of our arms and then fade away. She was smiling at me, and I wanted to be happy, but all I could say was “I’m so sorry,” before the stress of the moment, combined with an unknown congenital defect in my heart made the darkness rise up from behind my eyes and claim me.
And then something I never expected happened.
I woke up.
I woke up in a hospital room full of beeping machines and strange smells, and there was Kathryn in a chair next to my bed, still in that red dress and looking simply amazing, although kind of tired.
“How?” I managed to ask. “I was supposed to–”
“I know,” she whispered, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it gently. “Technically, you did. Luckily for both of us, I am very good at my job.”
“I never realized that it was even possible.”
“It’s rare, but it happens. Us surgeons are a stubborn bunch, and if we have to wrench you out of the hands of Death himself, then we will.”
I turned my arm over and looked at my wrist. A new number. Almost 80 years in the future. I took Kathryn’s hand, turned it over. Saw her one remaining number.
“We’re going to die together,” I said, disbelievingly.
“Only when we’re really old,” she replied.
And after a few moments, we both started laughing. And we laughed until we cried, and then laughed some more.
I can’t believe I get to grow old with her. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.
Perhaps sometimes, the world gets it right.
That was fucking amazing I am in tears ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Oh I’m crying this is beautiful
Moonlight Serenade playing from another room
Glenn Miller
The year is 1942, and there is a war.
Not here, and not yet, but it’s the thought that weighs heavily on your minds. It threatens to disrupt the peaceful reprieve you have both managed to seek out from the party. Away from that crowded, smoky dance floor, and out into the gardens, where the evening is cool and fragrant. Everything is muted out here, softer, both sound and sight.
Alone together. One offers a hand, the other takes it, and you begin to dance.
For now, the idea of war is an ocean away. For now, you have the golden streams of light that spill out from the French windows, letting your shadows on the wet cobblestone stretch longer as you sway to a muffled tune.
Neither of you speak. The atmosphere is rich and dense with the delicate swell of instrumentals, the cloying scent of hyacinths, with the weight of words left unsaid. It’s a last dance. It’s a goodbye. But above all, it is a theft. Possibilities, moments in time, the growth of something more, all taken away by forces much larger than either of you.
Your eyes drift closed, and everything fades to the back of your mind except for the person in front of you. Your awareness has narrowed down to a few sensations, cataloguing them in your mind and stashing them away for safe keeping. Hands clasped together, a soft cheek leaning on a wool-clad shoulder, a hushed sigh close to an ear. Hair being brushed back, the sweep of eyelashes over cheekbone, the reassuring warmth of another person.
Chest to chest, heart to heart. You wish that this dance would never end, continue like the constant, never changing cadence of the music. You wish that you could capture this moment in amber, moving neither forwards or backwards, only a gentle sway to a distant song.
But the year is 1942, and there is a war, and soon the music fades to silence.
Four roommates are extraterrestrials who have taken human form in the hopes of learning about Earth’s culture. Unfortunately, each alien is from a different planet and believes the other three are normal humans.
I would read this
OH MY GOD
Starring Jack Black, The Rock, Jeff Goldblum and Taika Waititi
And Mads Mikkelsen, the human neighbour that is weird enough that all the aliens think he’s an alien too.
they all are sure hes an alien and will go talk to him about how hard it is being an alien on earth, will even talk really frankly to him about it, but weirdly no matter what they say hes always like ‘oh yeah i can relate’
It got about a thousand times better than the last time I reblogged this I think.
paint heaven and anger the gods
so the trailer for miss hokusai advertised one type of
movie, and then the actual movie was …. something else entirely. but the
trailer gave me ideas, so here they
are:there is girl –
no.
there is woman –
no.
there is a young woman, an old girl, and she has the eyes of
youth but the weight upon her shoulders is that of age. or perhaps it is the
other way around. perhaps she has the eyes of age, but upon her shoulder is the
weightlessness of youth, of ignorance.there she is, whatever she is.
her name is kana.
she is the daughter of a famous painter, known as juro. he
is a man larger than life, and he paints wonderful things. he takes what is
ugly, and makes it beautiful. he paints an unhandsome woman as a goddess, a
sneering merchant as a king, a dirty city as a glowing capitol. he leaves all
he touches brighter than it was found.kana is not like her father.
she is a painter, but she is not famous. she has a mother
she doesn’t speak to, and younger sister she visits as much as she can. she has
pushed them both aside to follow her father, to sit with him in dirty shacks
putting ink to paper as she does her best to make beautiful things. she throws
off the expectations of her gender, of her station, of anything and everything
in her pursuit to be a master painter.technique is easy. she completes half of her father’s
painting while he drinks, while he whores, while he seduces lords and ladies,
while he paints empty things for empty people, while he leaves her alone in
their dirty shacks. she can do the detail work, has a steady hand and a sharp
eye, but when it comes to the whole picture – it is left lacking.“her work lacks your beauty,” an old man says, talking to
her old father while she kneels in the corner, ink staining her hands, the
floor, ink just – staining.“of course it does,” her father says, offhand. “how can she
paint what she does not know?”kana never expected lack of knowledge to be her downfall.
so that night when her father is gone, she does not stay in
to work. instead kana paints her face, wears a kimono that’s too small on her,
and goes to the worst part of the city, to where the alleyways and walls are
stained red by the glow of the lanterns.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
And in time it came to pass that a young man by the name of Outis came of age in that city; and, as with all who lived in that city, he was taken to a secret place where a wise elder showed him a small cold dirty room. And in that room there was a small cold dirty child, naked and hurt and starving, who had never known the least human kindness.
And the wise elder said to Outis, “In our city, everything is good and no one suffers. But it all depends on this child. If the least kindness is shown to him, our city will become like all other cities. There must always be such a child in Omelas.” …
…And Outis said to the elder, “If our city becomes like all other cities, many children will suffer.” And so he became a citizen of Omelas. And Outis led a good and happy and fulfilling life; and the child continued to suffer.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he walked away from Omelas. And Outis led a cold and short and brutish life; and the child continued to suffer.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas became like all other cities; and many children suffered there.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas carried on as it always had; and from that day forth no child suffered there.
…And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas became like all other cities; and many children suffered there.
But Outis, who would leave no child to suffer, worked tirelessly to save each one of them, and to build with his own hands a city in which everyone lived a good and happy and fulfilling life; and so in time it came to pass that the latter days of Omelas were greater than the former. And for ten trillion years Omelas carried on, and no child ever suffered there again.
…And Outis said to the elder, “Nevertheless, this child is my son, and I will not leave him to suffer.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the city of Omelas became like all other cities; and many children suffered there. But Outis did not care, because he valued the well-being of his son over all of them.
…And Outis asked the elder, “Why?” And the elder showed him to a library filled with books. And Outis studied the books for many years. And when he was an old man with a gray beard, Outis went out of the library and returned to the child and took the child out of the room, and in the child’s place he put a stone. And the stone was naked and dirty and cold; and the child Outis took and bathed and cared for. And Omelas carried on as it always had; and from that day forth no child suffered there.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives; except for one child, who suffered so that the city might prosper. And all who lived there knew of this…
…And each citizen of Omelas, having looked into himself and seen that he would stand by while a child suffered in abject misery, found in himself a new willingness to do dark and evil deeds. And in time, all those who lived in Omelas suffered.
…And each citizen of Omelas lived with the gnawing guilt of his complicity, and the abiding terror that his own child would be chosen as the next to suffer. And in time it seemed to them that they could take no joy in any of the glories of Omelas.
…And one night, the child rose up and went out of his room and killed all the people of Omelas in their sleep.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives. And each morning, each citizen of Omelas was taken to a small cold dirty room, and shown a small cold dirty child, and told that the child must suffer so that his day might be filled with all good things.
And all in Omelas agreed that it was better that one child should suffer than many; and none of them ever asked if it was the same child they saw each morning. And after all, one small cold dirty child looks much like another.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives; except for ten thousand children, who suffered so that the city might prosper. And all who lived there knew of this…
…but none of them were ever taken to see the children in person, so none of them ever did anything about it.
…and whenever anyone saw such a child and “shouldn’t we rescue that suffering child?”, the other citizens of Omelas laughed and replied to them, “Naïve fool! Don’t you know that a child must always suffer in Omelas, so that the city may prosper? Otherwise it would become like all other cities, and many children would suffer.”
And everyone nodded wisely and went along with their days; and so ten thousand children continued to suffer where it might have been only one.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
And
in time it came to pass that a young man by the name of Outis came of
age in that city; and, as with all who lived in that city, he was taken
to a secret place where a wise elder showed him a small cold dirty room.
And in that room there was a small cold dirty child, naked and hurt and
starving, who had never known the least human kindness.And the
wise elder said to Outis, “In our city, everything is good and no one
suffers. But it all depends on this child. If the least kindness is
shown to him…”
“…the city will continue on as it always has, only your internet will be slightly slower.”
And Outis went back up into the city, and on that day he became a citizen of Omelas; and the child continued to suffer.
“…the best predictions of our scientists suggest that there will be a slight average decrease in various hard-to-measure kinds of happiness, which nevertheless in total adds up to more suffering than this child experiences.”
And Outis said to the elder, “I will have no part in this evil thing.” And he took the child and bathed him and cared for his wounds. And the average happiness increased in some ways and decreased in others, and the net effect might have been negative, but the best results on the matter had p > 0.05, so the scientists of Omelas could not rule out the null hypothesis.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
And in Omelas there was a naked dirty child in a small dirty room; because the child was agoraphobic and was making mudpies.
Once upon a time there was a city called Omelas, where everyone lived good and happy and fulfilling lives.
Very few people told stories about Omelas, but it was a very nice place to live in.
The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, from The Wind’s Twelve Quarters, by Ursula K. Le Guin.