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This was exciting! I loved this story

Are you familiar with the Trolley Problem?

A common moral thought exercise. There is a runaway trolley heading down a track - a track on which there is a group of people, unable to get out of the way. You have the option to flip a lever and redirect the trolley onto an adjacent rail with a single person on it. This person will die, but you will save the lives of the group.

Do you do it?

Inaction causes greater death. But if you pull the lever? That death is a direct result of your actions. It is your fault.

Not a terribly easy choice, is it?

Now imagine having that be a power. And you have me. Lucky ol' me.

I can save... dozens of people with the flick of my hand. But someone will die. Someone innocent, so I can't just go through death row inmates with a clear conscience. And I have to choose who dies, someone in my vicinity. I have to look them in the eye. See their expression. Grief, anger, sadness, but worst of all... they don't understand why.

It fucking sucks. But not doing anything? It's worse. Not that it helps me sleep at night.

​

Look, what I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. I am truly, truly sorry. But this will save 14 people, 6 of which are children. It won't hurt.

I hope you understand.

​

I'm sorry.

"Well that was quick."

I'd barely crossed the threshold when that achingly familiar melody caressed my mind. It grated on me, rasping against my very being, its rawness unable to be washed away by the harmonies that laced it. Ones I'd only heard on my first nine visits.

Now only coarse grit remained, like sandpaper upon my soul.

"Hah!" I barely stifled my rather expletive laden, knee-jerk response with a barked laugh. "Funny guy, eh."

A flare of heat - or the idea of it, not exactly the sensation itself, but close enough - mixed with the taste of iron, the scent of ozone, the almost haptic thrum of electricity. All of this radiated out from the being before me. It was the only joy I could get in this godforsaken place.

Turns out the afterlife is really not all that. But at least winding up the Gatekeeper of reincarnation was an option. It was my only option, as reincarnation itself was a bit twisty when it tried its magic on me.

"I am," the Gatekeeper began.

"Not a guy," I finished for him, my tone like old cardboard, flaky yet damp, bored. "Heard it all before Guy. Also-"

"Not a name," the Gatekeeper ground out.

Yeowch, that one hurt. A sensation like ripping cloth, except I was the cloth.

"Got it in one," I said with a grin, a hint of sunshine and the fizz of a freshly cracked can of soda. Man, did I need a serious change of scenery if this was the highlight of my... geez, ahh my week... uh, maybe year? I dunno. Time was all kinds of mucky here. That at least the potion did right.

What potion is that you ask? Why, it's Granny Meng's Tea, the Fountain of Youth, the sweet broth of forgetfulness that a soul consumed to wash away the taint of the living. Scrubbing it clean as a whistle and ready for a new beginning, undergoing nirvana, and moving on through the grand cycle of reincarnation.

Yeah, fat lot of good that did me however. The potion,

• as I refused to call the simmering cauldron of irradiated pink that bubbled and popped and let out bright puffs of iridescent smoke anything but a back-alley Alchemists potion - was just horrifyingly bad and it didn't scrub away eff-all. Like, it is so terrible I am almost sure the substance has tainted whatever amounted to my soul's taste buds, and then went further by scarring the overwhelming sensations and impressions right onto the fabric of my spirit itself.

It felt like if you took a dead skunks corpse, defecated in it, covered it in a dozen skunk ass-glands worth of secretion then deep fried it in horse piss. Then you boiled that down into a grainy, jelly-like mess and mixed that with the coarsest sand you could find and proceeded to give yourself the most excruciating scrub bath of your life. All while having boiling tar poured in and around your everything.

"Just gimme the damn drink!" I spat, a stray dog's bite and the kiss of heated iron. My formerly good mood thoroughly ruined by the mere thought of the vile swill.

The bastard didn't even reply, though I could feel the smugness radiating out from it like a bonfire. I had no idea if the Gatekeeper was a he, or a she, or both, or neither? I didn't even know if I was either when I was in my soul form. Heck, everyone just looked like pale blobs of different colored light.

I stared at the tiny vial set before me and reached out toward it, a tiny whisper thin tentacle of pale purple mist bringing it to my blob. I wondered just what I'd end up as next time. Would the Gatekeeper try screw me around again? This would be my eighty first reincarnation, and ever since my seventy seventh - which I'd stupidly thought might be a lucky one - I'd stopped being reborn as a human.

ASSHOLE! Do you know how disorienting it is to go from four limbs, only two being legs, to six? Or eight? Or worse, dozens of them! Gah! The millipede was so damn bad! But being a worm was worse, especially when I realised I was a GIANT worm. Sadly this happened when I scared a kid right off a cliff as I emerged from the earth. I just wanted to say hi, or at least take a peek and see just how big I was, as a worm obviously couldn't speak. Turns out I came up to the kids chest. While i was still lating flat on the dirt.

Actually, I'm pretty sure killing that kid is why I was next reborn as a fungus.

I mean, karma and all, even if I've never had any other real reason to believe in it, even through all the rebirths; but killing a kid? The boy looked like he was barely even five years old, then splat, like a tomato. I honestly hadn't realised such a small, thin body could contain SO much liquid.

Though, my time as a fungus sure was interesting. Being something that isn't just one being... yeah, I did it and I still don't get it. Suffice to say, I was a virus, turning ants and the like into little zombies by taking over their brains then bodies and blowing them up to spread myself ever further.

That was a trip.

I tipped the vial back, feeling the sludge pour down my... blob, far more than the tiny vial could ever contain, and then I felt the Gatekeepers satisfaction. A dim spark that, he obviously didn't try hard to hide as it almost instantly burst into an inferno of glee.

"Enjoy, Returner," he said.

Terrible name that, by the way, Returner. So imaginative. So evocative. Such wow.

Then I realised what he was getting at.

"Oh, oh no you don't! You little fu-"

[WELCOME TO REBIRTH, LOST SOUL]

The voice of Reincarnation blasted apart my awareness, but it didn't stop me from first catching a glimpse of the form I was to inhabit next.

A rock. A goddamn rock. And not even ore, just a bit of stone, so I wouldn't even get the chance to be forged into a sword or anything awesome like that. Hell, I'd take being a plow or a pickaxe. I mean, a kitchen utensil, maybe a pot? Or even jewellery or maybe even a piece of electronic technology from one of the few worlds I'd visited who swung that way. I mean, there were thousands of options for decent metal ore to be crafted into. But a rock?

And you know the real cherry on top? Of late, I'd been pushing as hard and fast as I could, burning bright in life, and usually burning out just as quickly. I mean, I'd been an ant last time and it only takes a few weeks for an ant to go from egg to worker, but as soon as I could move about I'd climbed the tallest tree I could find and leapt off. I wanted to know if ants could actually die from fall damage.

They don't. But the lizard I landed beside did the job for me so no harm no foul.

But a rock? A dim, dull, plain old rock? Oh my giddy aunt I don't even know how long a rock can live for. Holy hells, I am so beyond screwed. Rocks can be millions of years old right? Billions even! What in the fraggle frock and I meant to do for millennia?

"Fuck you guy."

Those were my final thoughts, and I'd like to believe the barest flash of indignation I felt weren't just a figment of my scattering consciousness and unreliable imagination.

Yeah, definitely fuck him. In fact, next time, I think I might kill that guy.

[GOOD LUCK]

[removed]

Yeah, writing longer things definitely is tiring, particularly if you're doing it in a single sitting or if the length of the story gets away from you (whistles while pointedly looking away from the multi-part monsters I've written in the past). It was definitely a good story though, and fun to read!

What great dialogue, smart and charming all the way

Awww, thank you!

I'm glad you enjoyed it! It was definitely fun trying to figure out what would make Andolin's voice different from a normal human.

Yeeeesssssss... YEEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!! MOAR!!! I require MOAR!!!! *said in an over-drawn Vaudvillain-style cackle* ;) :D

Thanks for the feedback, I wasn't planning for the story to be so long and sadly the longer I make a story the worse my punctuation gets.

>>>“Cookies!” A boy’s voice synthesized out of the makeshift android’s body.
I blinked. “I said state your purpose.”
“And I said I want cookies!”
“Can you execute the functions or not?” I said, losing my patience.
“Depends.”
“Depends?” I screeched.
“Yeah, on if you can get me cookies!”
I exploded. “I created you out of wires and circuits I bought with every scrap I could save for the past ten years!”
I picked it up from under the arms and started throttling it. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT–”
“Waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh,” it started wailing. An hour later I was hand-feeding it a bag of freshly baked convenience store cookies.
>>> 

>>”What happened next mommy?” the android girl asked, fingers curling around the unicorn-patterned blanket and bringing it closer to her neck.
“The engineer learned to have empathy for Artificials, and the boy helped him achieve his dream after that,” I said, patting her head.
“What was his dream?”
“To destroy all the android factories.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Why? Why would anybody do that?” she yelled.
“Because he believed in us. He knew we could be more than just the tools we were being produced to be.”
“You know him mommy?” she tugged at my nightshirt.
“Of course I do. That children’s story is based on Mr. Gurney Slick, the current CEO of Humanoid Corp, the most trusted producers of friendly Artificials in the entire industry.”
“Wow! He sounds like a hero!”
“Yes sweetie, he really is.” I leaned in to peck her on her forehead, next to the bright sheen of the Humanoid Corporation logo.
>> 

>“Check out this crap,” I said, flinging the hovering holographic monitor to Joe.
It sailed across the kitchen table and froze behind his extended finger.
“More Artificial propaganda?” He sighed, swiping across the panels.
“I know. After such a scandal like that no less, can you believe it?”
“I don’t think I want to.”
“The nerve of these corporations! How can they believe a bunch of nuts and bolts can replace flesh and blood Joe? Flesh and blood!” I said, shaking my hands.
“I don’t know Karen…” He rubbed his temple. “What scares me is what they’re teaching our boy at school. We have to make sure he understands what they are.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have a talk with him after he flies home…”
> 

“Conversations like this are growing more and more common in upperground metropolis apartments,” I announced, clasping my hands firmly together. “Especially after the recent whistleblowers from Humanoid Corp engineers, public unrest about Artificials, new customizable android variants for home use, has substantially increased.”
I mentally queried the image database and several 3D holograms of leaked documents and gorey gifs of android violence popped out beside me. Time to drive it home.`
I pointed to a looping video, displaying a naked android staring at the camera with dead eyes, standing above a man clutching a growing red stain on his chest. “And this concern is not unwarranted.”

Poor dude

Parental love. Im not expecting that. Good job.

I have been here longer than I care to know.

Not that I remember how long I have been here, as each bowl I drink erases the memory of the last. That, I believe, is the reason I am here; an urge to drink of the water from this cool, still pool. An urge to purge that of the old self, so that the new may be forged.

It is nicer than heaven, honestly, to know that everything I was and had been will no longer be; that there is only the uncertainty of the future. I suppose it is excitement for this that causes me to swallow what I assume is bowl after bowl of the cool water, with only the water soaking my clothes being the only clue that I have been here more than once.

And I stand here, drinking of the water, forgetting who I am, and who I was, over and over and over. Because there is one memory that remains. It haunts my mind, a reminder of who I was, preventing me from who I will be.

It is revolting, and vile, and I hate it.

Each time I remember, I hate the memory more, and hate myself even moreso. Of my foolishness, of my deficiencies. It is the stone that weighs me down, that drowns me, pulling me deeper away from the surface.

So I drink, and forget, and remember, and hate, and then drink.

An unending cycle.

If the promise of this pool is better than heaven, this is a punishment worse than hell. I am sure that I have cursed whatever power has put me here to a host of promises of wrath and violence each cycle. Though, each cycle I am certain that I have come to the same conclusion that there is no power that has put me here. There is only myself. So drink I must.

To purge this horrid memory, to rid myself of this plague.

For if I must remember that day I told the waitress "you too" when she said "enjoy your food" a single time more, I will certainly go mad.

[removed]

“Quentin, please slow down.”

The empty roads only serve to enable the lad. Driving close to 100 mph, Quentin was convinced that he had committed a heinous crime. His only solution was to immediately ditch town.

“Quentin, please. They’re going to pull us over.”

Quentin’s silence is sickening. Marigold sits passenger seat, mustering up the confidence to talk better sense into him. She glances at the dashboard only to notice the speedometer further increasing in speed.

“Quentin.. please.”

There is no chance at reaching Quentin. 30 miles ahead, a sign bordering on to the next town makes an appearance. Marigold begins to think back to the events that took place only the night before. She whispers to herself:

“It was all my fault.”

The sun begins to set as Quentin turns on his headlights.

“We need gas.”

His first words spoken all night.

“Now you want to talk?”

“Marigold, don’t start.”

Marigold abides to Quentin’s rebuttal, too tired to push back. The two pull over to a nearby gas station to fuel up and grab some snacks when they encounter one of the attendants from last night’s Murder Mystery. Quentin spots the attendant first and attempts to warn Marigold.

“Wait, don’t get out of the c—-.”

Quentin is too late.

“Marigold? I uh, didn’t expect to see you here.”

An awkward silence takes place as Jade looks around suspiciously.

“Who’s in the car with you?”

Marigold takes a step back in order to cover the view of Quentin with her body.

“Jade, what are you doing so far from town on a week day?”

“I could ask you the same!”

She chuckles nervously.

The two exchange glances of mistrust before resorting to an awkward silence. Jade senses that Marigold is hiding something and proceeds to defuse the situation by heading into the gas station first.

“Well, see you inside.”

Marigold follows after hesitantly. Inside the gas station there’s a Clerk playing modern music. A song comes on that was played during the Murder Mystery. The girls look down to the side with guilt. Marigold attempts to redirect the focus to gas prices.

“Damn. We’re really in the trenches huh?”

“Tell me about it. These gas prices are absurd.”

The two exchange a glance once more. Jade looks troubled. She glances at Marigold guiltily before attempting to blurt out a confession of some sort.

“Marig————-“

“I— I’m getting a phone call! It was nice seeing you Jade! Get home safe again.”

“Wait. Don’t you need gas?”

“I—- I just remembered I had my card on me! I’ll text you?”

“Um.. yea? No problem.”

“Catch you later!”

Before Jade could respond, Marigold is out the door. She runs back into the car, successfully masking Quintin’s identity.

“We need to get the fuck out of here, now!”

“What the fuck happened in there?”

“Just drive Quentin!”

Jade looks out the window in despair. It is difficult to see all that clearly with the poorly lit station merging with the night skies. Though it is clear that Marigold did not end up getting her gas.

Flashbacks from the murder mystery begin to infiltrate Jade’s mind. She thinks back to her encounter with the Mikal, the deceased, in the kitchen pantry. She recalls splashes of blood, Mikal gasping for his life, and then everything goes blank. Jade begins to rub her arms in discomfort.

“Ma’am. Ma’am? Hello! You okay in there? Did you still want gas?”

Jade snaps out of her trance.

“Oh.”

Jade chuckles nervously.

“So sorry. Um, yes. Can I get $45 on Pump 4 please?”

Also she's a great guardian

My guy, ya write stories like fucking feature films, thjs was so good!!

It was at that moment that i knew, thay fucked up

Hell of a read. I like how you write spirits.

Also: I ship them.

"Goodbye I love you" I sob to Jess "Goodbye, Kassie, I loved you too" she states simply with a few tears rolling down her face With our goodbyes said she opens the door and walks out I crumple to the floor sobs racking my body Roughly ten minutes later I open the door still sobbing knowing what I'm going to see.

I knew what she was going to do I knew it but nothing could have prepared me for what I was seeing Being a robot she wanted to take zero chances while maintaining peak condition So what I saw was an empty Lexapro that had previously held forty pills an hour ago she had blood running down her wrists and was hanging limply from the ceiling.

I called the cops four hours later just like she asked but she was long gone; had been dead for four hours they said.

The estate was truly massive. Towering ceilings, copious waterworks, the walls decorated with marble and gold. Yet despite being so vast, it felt so familiar, like home. Even as I was led through the halls by my accountant, Jenson, I couldn't help but think that I wanted a place like this for my own one day.

 

After many twists and turns, we arrived in a viewing room, with walls surrounded by glass. In the center was a decrepit old man: Borsolino, I think he was called. His wizened face seemed gruff and uncompromising. His dead eyes and seemingly permanent scowl made me thankful to have Jenson in my employ. If I had to deal with such a man, I would probably be wimpering in fright.

 

Our eyes met, and I felt the corner of my lips stretch on either side of my face. Those cold soul-less eyes were something that I had seen many a time before, and while the first time had me pissing my pants, all that was left was a subtle amusement.

 

One minute past, then two. There was dead silence save for the ticking of the man's luxury watch...which was rather nice, now that I noticed it. But still I didn't break eye contact. Because I knew, eventually it would come. That glimmer of light that would appear in those tired, worn down eyes.

 

The old man grunted and flinched, unable to wait any longer. His raspy voice was solemn as he gestured towards the show window towards hundreds of bound individuals with their limbs restrained and with bags over their heads.

 

"You may start..."

"Of course. But as agreed upon, we cannot guarantee the cure will affect the target, and we do have a set price per individual, so are you sure...."

Jenson that lovable bastard. He trailed off and looked expectantly at that old man. I wasn't sure if I could be so heartless myself. I should really consider giving him a bonus this year.

 

The old man sighed and looked towards the other room, where a young girl was breathing weakly atop a simple bed. Her hand cupped by an older woman who looked similar to herself. Perhaps if I looked closely, I would see that she shared some similar facial features to the old man before me, who sighed and nodded.

 

"Whatever it takes."

 

My jaw started to hurt as I prepared my tools. Maybe 'one day' was coming sooner than I thought.

(Haven't written anything in a long time. Did a quick one , and hope its ok)

Well if all of them are killed then they would die for good too..

Wow… you can really feel this guy’s pain and the torture he’s been through. Kudos.