And the dirt is gun!

maybe trying to turn the stone to stone cancels the effects out?

This is great

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I woke up in what seemed to be a basement. I felt groggy and my throat felt dry. I reached for some water but I couldn’t see any. Disorientated, I looked around at my completely unfamiliar surroundings. There didn’t seem to be anything in the room at all.

“How the hell did I get here?” I wondered. “Wait? Am I lucid dreaming??”

I tried to make something happen. Anything. Nothing happened. “That’s weird… I thought I had a vivid imagination…?”

I suddenly noticed a cup of water beside my bed. Had it always been there? Was I finally harnessing the power of my mind?

The water was crisp. They really had the good stuff in dreamland.

I relaxed back into the bed, trying to think calm thoughts to not wake up. I knew today was a Thursday after all, and I wanted delay reality as much as I could. I had been working so much overtime recently that my days were starting to blur together, and most nights I didn’t even remember putting my head on the pillow.

Wait - SHIT!

I bolted upright. Did I buy any food for breakfast on my way home last night?? I couldn’t remember doing so… What was I going to eat when I woke up…?

I put my head on the pillow and tried to avoid reality for just a little while longer

---

Special Forces Agent ‘Nice’ observed the subject. Unknown to the public, there were some supernatural phenomena that existed and was well studied, but only the top brass of a select few nations knew about it.

Aliens were making telepathic contact with about one in 100,000 humans, and were guiding them in science, mathematics, and technology. For what purpose no one was completely certain, but there was a reason that technology had advanced more in the last 200 years than the thousands of years prior… It also wasn’t a coincidence that many of the so-called ‘geniuses’ in that time period were more than a little detached from their sanity.

He looked as the subject woke up, and looked around with obvious disorientation. The subject seemed to look around wildly for a moment, before noticing the glass of water on his bedside table and drinking it.

What person would wake up in an unfamiliar room and drink a glass of water on their bedside table? The subject was obviously lacking rationality, which was common among the Tainted.

Next the subject seemed to lie back down despite the obviously unfamiliar setting. However, he seemed to almost jump out of bed. Agent ‘Nice’ smiled at the look of horror on his face.

It seemed Subject ‘69’ had finally noticed he couldn’t communicate with the aliens from within this special facility. He watched as the subject slowly laid back down into bed, with denial and grief clearly written across his face.

Agent ‘Nice’ felt vindicated. His fellow agents had thought it unlikely this subject had been Tainted due to his profession, but with all this video evidence it would be clear to all who was getting the last laugh. While the Subject may feign at sanity later, and perhaps even regain a semblance of it eventually once the influence of the Taint diminished, this first awakening combined with all the circumstantial evidence was good enough to serve as a textbook example of someone Tainted.

Subject 69 in the prison in front of him fit all the classic symptoms. He was a recluse, having no family and only calling even the closest of his few friends once every couple of months.

He was also devoted to his work, putting in excess of 100 hours week after week.

On top of that, when Agent ‘Nice’ looked at him work through his work laptop's camera, it appeared the subject would often look into empty space for extended periods of time, before furiously drawing as if having divine inspiration.

While Agent Nice couldn’t understand what was so important about cartoon girls(?) with cat ears, he knew it must be one of the alien’s demented plots to subverts humanity’s culture, so he had been studying the alien-inspired propaganda diligently. After all, If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles… Though this enemy was admittedly hard to understand

---

END OF PART 1

I may write more, but I have to wake up for work in 6 hours so its not just Subject 69 that has been trying to avoid reality for just a bit longer :P

Hehe, made me chuckle. Loved it!

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I got a little bit of dresdin files (sp?) Out of this. Love it.

“Once upon a time, there was a young warrior. He was born into wealth and nobility, and he was meant to be one of the king's counsel, but all the young warrior wanted to do was fight. So he pleaded his father and mother to let him go to war. And even though they loved their son, they allowed him freedom.

And battle after battle, war after war, he proved himself to be the greatest warrior the kingdom had ever seen. After many years of service, he rose from a young knight to be a great general who commanded the entire Kingdom's army. But eventually, he wanted to retire. He had grown tired of the fighting, and more importantly, he found a woman, his true love, who he made his wife.

But the king wanted him to prove himself one last time. The king said, "Destroy our enemy, the Northern Empire, and you shall have earned your rest." The warrior agreed. He took only fifty of his best, his most loyal comrades, and disappeared into the land. And as six years pass by, the warrior returned home, his fifty comrades with him. He had taken the emperor's head, and murdered hundreds, and displaced thousands of innocent souls as what was once the Empire was plunged into chaos in his wake. Yet he thought he could live with all of it if only he could return to his family, and his love.

He could not. As the warrior returned home, he was taken prisoner by the king to be executed. His comrades were slaughtered, and only seven escaped. His family, who he begged to let him go to war, was murdered, and his wife, who he left behind alone to go to war, was executed. The next morning, he was taken to be beheaded, in front of the people of the kingdom. None were as silent as those who witnessed the warrior that day, and the only sounds heard were the executioner sharpening his axe, and the traitor king with his royal guards, still fearing the warrior even as he was in chains. "What king would I be," said he, "if I let a usurper by my side?" The king then told the people that the warrior wanted the Northern Empire for his own, and set his sights on the Kingdom, and therefore must be slain. He spun tales of how the warrior killed his own soldiers, and how his family plotted against the king.

The sunlight of dawn gazed upon his visage for all to see. He wore the years of battle as countless scars upon his body. The memory of his loved ones took shape as tears, as he knew what killed them was his passion for warfare. His eyes, once burned brightly with the strength of his youth, now belonged to a broken man who lost everything.

The king looked at his executioner. The executioner looked at the warrior. He braced his axe, and with one swung, broke the warrior’s chains. The king rose up, first in anger, then fear, as the warrior took the executioner’s sword. He cowered behind his royal guards, and they drew their weapons, but to the king’s horror, they cut his arm, impaled his knees, and forced him to the ground. The warrior, standing above the king as he wept and begged, drove the sword into his throat, and stained the castle’s steps with his blood as he laid choking and bleeding. As the king whimpered his last breath, all the people of the kingdom looked upon the warrior. All those he fought and bled for. “He lied to you all,” said the warrior, “about everything.” “We know,” one of the guards spoke. “All of us know.” “The throne is for you,” said a child mong the crowd. The king was dead, and the kingdom was left without a ruler. All of it could be his.

Those were the last words ever written about that day. The warrior never took the mantle of a king, and once again disappeared into the lands, and nothing else was written about him. Some say he took his own life as the loss of his loved ones were too hard to bear. Others say his late wife had left behind a child, and lived far away from civilization. The royal guards, who were later known to be the seven escaped soldiers the king failed to kill, forged an age of peace that lasted to this day. And the events of that fateful morning were forever since known as the Quiet Revolution.”

—Chronicles of the Eternal Empire, Prologue

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I can’t stop thinking about his crazed eyes as he ran past us. His coat tail blowing behind him with an expression of a man that had just been released from solitary confinement. Except it wasn’t solitary confinement it was just a train car. Except the train doors did not yield to his presence in front of them, he pried them open with his hands. Was that blood on his fingers? I didn’t have time to find out, because a stampede of others wearing the same expression stumbled out of the car. My mother gripped my arm and pulled me out of the way. As the last lunatic made his way out, the conductor ran after him, attempting to crab the edge of his shirt but he stumbled to the ground in vain. Someone reached down and helped the conductor to his feet. His face was drained of color. “No, no, no, no,” He mumbled, he put his face in his trembling hands. “Sir are you okay what happened.” Asked the kind stranger who helped him up. “I, I, I,” the conductor stuttered, then he slowly looked around at the crowd of onlookers. His face calmed as if he had thought of a solution to his myster

Love the justification for not using a gun.

You should check out the book “We are Legion, We are Bob”

I would read the book, I would watch the TV series, and I'd complain when it got canceled to soon.

[poem]

mirror child

wear away dear child wear away

struggle on and struggle on and

see another when you see a mirror

​

a mirror when you see yourself dear child

will show yourself to you as you dream

like the light hits the mirror without struggle

​

struggle away dear child struggle away

wear away today and renew another

be proud as they see you in their mirror

​

a way i see away with your resistance

aware you are a way a weary soul

i see when i look in the mirror

​

wear away with me today

tomorrow is your peace

no mirror left to hold you

DAY 1

We’ve managed to capture the target according to plan. Initially he seemed terrified of the prospect of being captured. However, since we’ve put him down into the sensory deprivation chamber, the target seems to have gone quiet. Usually they scream and beg for at least 24 hours, but the target might have slipped into a state of hopelessness already. Nonetheless we’ll have to keep taps on him, to make sure that the intended goal is accomplished as set by our benefactors.

DAY 4

The target seems largely unresponsive. Only interaction occurs when we bring him food twice a day. Target seems to have adapted a strategy of total compliance. There is an uncharacteristic absence of pleading or defiance. There are no signs of mental degradation yet, but it’s admittedly hard to assess properly because of the unorthodox response by the subject. For now things can progress as scheduled.

DAY 7

The target showed first signs of hostility. When the target was lifted outside of the deprivation chamber for a full assessment the response was aggressive. This response is according to expectations, yet I can’t shake the feeling that the subject was more annoyed by the fact that we seemed to be interrupting, rather than the predicament he finds himself in. Subject showed no signs of physical or mental decline. He seems to have an extraordinarily strong disposition compared to previous subjects.

DAY 12

There seems to be no change in the mental well being of the subject. By now all previous subjects showed severe psychological regression and physical decline. Yet this one seems to be as fit and capable as day one, if not more so. Outward appearance seems peaceful and relaxed, rather than any signs of distress. Subject seems grateful for the sustenance if provided, but does otherwise no interact with any of our staff.

DAY 20

We’ve held a crisis meeting with our department of experimental psychology, staff and representatives of our stakeholders. The subject still shows no signs of mental decline. This is far outside of the scope of expectations and poses an enigma for our team. Benefactors originally expected final results by this time and while we’ve managed to negotiate a longer scope for now, they’re not happy with our progress. Pressure is building within all departments of our operations. We cannot fail.

DAY 34

It’s been over a month. Subject seems unaffected still. Some of our staff handed in their resignations as there seems to be an increased mental toll to those that interact with the subject on a daily basis. The subject expresses gratitude and happiness and while this could be signs of psychological regression, there is severe doubt amongst our team that that is the case. If someone asked my honest opinion on the matter, I’d dare to say that the subject is experiencing tranquillity on a level rarely seen in ordinary society.

DAY 50

Most of our team has been let go. Benefactors have largely retracted financial backing and we’re posed with a dilemma. Some of our psychological experts are fascinated and want to go on studying the subject. Others feel it’s time to move on and clean up. We’ve discussed the possible discontinuation of our experiment logistically with the remaining staff. They expressed a vehement reluctance to cause any harm or distress to our subject. A bond seems to have been developed between those that interact with him on a regular basis, even though the test subject rarely interacts with his captors.

DAY 100

There are only 4 of us left. Experiment has been deemed a failure. Test subject can be considered unaffected both mentally and physically. Some of his handlers have actually joined him in the deprivation chamber. They also seem unaffected and largely at peace. Subject initially was happy to share his food with the newly joined. After interference of union lawyers we were forced to provide separate food packages to the former handlers as well. George, the only psychologist left has been having nightmares about the experiment. He describes vivid hellscapes full of tranquil people judging him.

DAY 250

I write this in my momentary reprieve from daydreaming meditation. We were wrong. I have never felt such bliss and revelation. Joining the others as late as I did was a mistake. This is what it means to be human. Food is now provided by the organization that took over operations, in search of true liberation for humanity. New acolytes join us daily now.

What The Fuck™

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Getting some r/JamesAndTed vibes off this. I like it.

"Listen, no offense, but your kid is a pain in all seven of my necks. I miss the days when great warriors were a dime a dozen, and only the bravest would take on my mantle. I'd pick anyone else. I'd take you over her." The Paragon of Purity paused in a way that made it less clear if this was more an offer or a joke.

"I'm an accountant," Mr. Yukifumi replied flatly.

"Yeah, but you are also confident. I wouldn't need to give you weekly pep talks to help you overcome your fears, ignore relationship drama, and actually beat the world-ending threat. Weekly!"

"Yeah, that sounds like my girl," he sighed. "Why can't you pick someone else?"

"The blasted gem. I need someone pure of heart and soul. They have to accept it. And the gem can't be removed without the current holder being tainted in some way."

"Huh? Guess I should be proud."

"Oh, get off your high horse and corrupt your kid somehow. I want a new champion, and you want your kid home safe."

"Hmm. You know, you mentioned the whole confidence issue. Sumiye's actually been doing a lot better about that lately. She even tried out for a solo in the choir. She didn't get it, but she tried. That's huge for."

"Oh no, please don't do this to me."

"And you've been pretty rude here. Sounds like you could use some lessons in patience."

"I loathe you."

"Someday, you'll thank me for this. I think we'll leave things the way they are, for now. But if you're disrupting her life, I expect you to help with her homework."

"Say what?"

"You heard me. Now, I have to go mow the lawn." And with that, he left the pocket dimension.

The Paragon stewed for a moment, then said to himself, "I guess it could be worse. He could have the gem."

Just then, Sumiye burst in, crying, "Pai-pai, Kenta saw me trip in the cafeteria. He laughed at me."

"First, don't call me Pai-pai. Second, was it funny?"

"I fell face first into mashed potatoes."

"Hilarious. Don't take the laughs personally. People would laugh no matter who that happened to. Now, let's see about your homework."

"My homework?"

"Yeah, suffice to say, your dad is kinda scary."

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One. Two. Three. Four.

Five was gone. Not dead, exactly. But he ceased to exist in the way a shadow ceases to exit when light shines on it. One moment, crisply there and defined. The next, nothing. Like he never was. He went through the Exit.

The Exit was a freestanding rectangle of glowing white on a wall that had a mat in front of it with "Exit" written on it in large, friendly letters. Someone must have found that amusing when they put it there.

You would think this Exit would be easy to find, but it had been buried in a city ruined a thousand years ago, in the basement of an old courthouse. Or, what tracked as a thousand years anyway. And maybe it wasn't a courthouse but a fancy office building or a hotel. As I said, ruined a thousand years ago. Or whatever.

It didn't really matter because none of this was real. We may not even be real. Or maybe we were. Maybe just one of us was. It was hard to say. And, really, until we actually found the Exit, saw it with our own eyes, we'd had occasional doubts that it was all a simulation. Seeing it now though... Seeing Five go through - or into? Or merge with? Or be erased by? - the Exit, made it all too clear that we had been right. The world we knew wasn't the real world. Not our families, not the trees, not even the air we breathed. None of it was real.

We all stood silently staring into the white void after Five. He'd gone first because, well, he always went first when it came to new and potential dangerous situations.

I found myself nonsensically fixated on that point: Why DID we call him Five when he always went first? I mean, it was his name and we'd all laughed about how our names were all numbers when we'd first met. But now it struck me - the Exit being proof this was just a simulation - why didn't we have real, proper names? Why us? Everyone else had names...

One was our leader, I was the planner, Three was our jack-of-all-trades guy, and Four was the diplomat and intellectual... and Five? Five was brave and kind and honest, probably the best of us. He should have been first among us. Somehow it hurt that he was "Five," like it was some kind of judgment of who he was compared to the rest of us...

As my thoughts swirled around, thinking about Five, Four said something about how he hadn't spent so many years getting here just to stop now when exactly what he thought was going to happen actually happened. And he stepped through. And he was gone. Just like that. I hadn't even really been paying attention.

I felt a wave of nausea and the room suddenly seemed unsteady. "What if we're all simulations?" I found myself saying, the words echoing in the silence.

Three glanced at me, then back at the door, shifting on his feet uneasily. One didn’t move, didn't even look at me, but just stood easily with his arms crossed, looking at the white void like he was waiting for... something.

Finally, Three said, "Well, if we are, I guess it won't matter." He stepped towards the door, saying "Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that." At the last moment, he looked back and grinned at me as the void swallowed him.

That did it. I bent over and heaved what was left of lunch on the dirty floor. I heard One move towards me. He patted my back in a comforting, if awkward, way.

When I straightened up, my pulse was racing, but also, somehow, I felt better. The world felt steadier underneath me. The simulated world. Another wave of nausea swept through me and I closed my eyes, breathing through my nose, concentrating on settling it down. A few minutes passed.

"Hey."

I opened my eyes and saw One's face, his concerned eyes and his typical quizzical half smile.

"It's okay, man. It's okay," he said softly. "They did what they had to do, okay?"

I nodded weakly.

He reached out and put his hands on my shoulders, getting my full attention. "Listen," he said, his voice filling the room, "I'm NOT expecting you to go in. And you're not going to see me going in there either. Okay?"

I nodded again and felt myself exhale a shaky sigh of relief. My stomach unknotted. And I felt so tired. I'm so tired.

One nodded back, "It's okay. I'll help you."

Then his eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth tightened. His fingers clenched hard into my shoulders as they pulled and swung me towards the white void. Then he barreled into me, pushing us both through.

I gasped, seeing nothing but white at first. Then there were colors and the world focused. I was home. In my chair. And I was... oh, right, playing the game. I pressed the release buttons, and the chair disengaged from my body.

Whew. That was always disorienting at first. Going from five perspectives back to one wasn't exactly something you get used to.

I considered the end. The urge to exit by a certain time was built into all the avatars, but Two was always a bit slow to exit. He'd do it every time, eventually, but he was slow to commit to anything that couldn't be undone, really. It made the actual exiting unnecessarily drawn out. Every. Time. So annoying. And One always played a part in getting him to do it, one way or another.

Well, that tracked now that I thought about it. The avatar personalities were drawn from your own, and I had some commitment issues. And I often had to talk my way through them or just, eh, push myself to do it anyway. Not exactly fun seeing your weaknesses played out in front of you.

Still, it was better than playing real multi-player games, spending half of the gametime just trying to find people who gelled with you. Then, IF you found any, it's just constant scheduling issues. But, if everyone is sourced from one person - and tweaked a bit - you gel from the beginning. Plus, no scheduling troubles. Ever.

Also, if you want better people to play with, you had control over that. Kind of. Do some personal work to improve your own character, and it would improve the game characters. It's what the game was designed for in the first place, but it was more like a quirk of the game in practice. Most people just muddled through and enjoyed the game as-is.

Speaking of which... It was still early. If I rearranged a couple of things and hustled... Hmm. Yeah, I could easily get in a 20 year - that is, 60 minute real time - game before I had to get moving.

I initiated a new game, the chair locking around me once more. This time, mix of male and female avatars, Arthurian setting, mythological creatures available, eclipse event, staggered character Exit in 20 years, blah blah blah. This time, I selected for involuntary Exit instead of quest Exit. It was a more disruptive ending - kind of like a sudden death - but it meant more chill, exploratory gameplay.

I opted to skip the avatar customization options. Those could really be a timesuck. Random was fine. More fun even. I did kind of wish they had default names instead of just numbers. Maybe it was on purpose, something to do with the character development thing it was made for. I dunno. I could come up with my own, but that always weirded me out, made me think too much about how each of these characters were really just me... Numbers are fine.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Party creation complete.

Fade to black.

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