As long as I can remember, there has always been the Glorious Government. I'm not sure how it came to be. They rule over us with an iron fist, and try to control our thoughts. They use lies and propaganda to further their goals. Many people are not even aware that their lives are not their own.
But in this dystopian society there is a beacon of light; a bringer of hope. A man who is actively sought by the Glorious Government. He gives us exactly what we need to carry on with our bleak and meaningless lives. He gives us the belief that things will get better. That he is actively fighting against tyranny. The string of murders within the Glori
In a void of swirling colors, a series of lights flash down from above. Voices are heard from these columns of light. One of them sounds like a young female.
"Don't worry. You'll do fine."
The voice breaks Zuriel from his trance. He looks around himself, and sees the beautiful swirl around him. He moves his hand closer to one of the columns, and his body moves closer as well.
"You were given a gift. You can use it for the greater good."
Zuriel looks down at his hands. He cannot face the light. He does not feel the weight on his back. He knows what it will say next, as he makes every effort to not hear the next words.
"I'll always be fine
There are stories about people and there are stories about the extraordinary things they do. This is both, and possibly neither. It is sometimes hard to tell.
What this is, exactly, is a story about thoughts, and ideas, and manifestations that are created when something is wanted but never obtained. Some things can never be obtained.
This is a story about those kinds of things. The things that can never be.
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A man races across a steel room, slashing wildly with his weapon. Bits and pieces fly from the storm of blows; bits and pieces that may have been robots at one point but were now not. Turret
"So why aren't we asking relatives about Victor?" Smith asked once they got off the monorail.
"I checked the database. The kid doesn't have any living relatives that could be considered close." Johnson fumbled through his coat and showed Smith a sheet of paper. "His mother died about a year ago in a traffic accident."
"Do we have any other information to go on?"
"Not really. That's what most of this...interview will be about. We have absolutely no idea what Victor is like or what he might have gone to go do," Johnson stopped in front of a small, white house that seemed out of place in the middle of the city. He looked down at the piece of
Sometimes, Victor would wander around the world by himself. It was a rare occurrence (for he did not wish to be apart from Genevieve for too long), but he felt the need to do so occasionally, the think about his life, to gather the ideas that went through his head while here.
He sometimes thought of life before this world. He thought of the world back home. He thought of many things, such as his mother, now a year dead.
Victor paused. A year! He could hardly believe it had been that long. But it had been. He had been in this world for about a month, and eleven months before he had gotten the phone call telling him that his mother was dead a
Canyons and forests flew past down below as Victor soared through the open air. Birds passed him, going from their nests to find the morning's food. There were no airplanes, as was preferred by Victor. The land below was void of anything that might ruin it for him. There were no people. No one except for Victor and Genevieve existed here. There we plenty of animals, but they disturbed no one.
Genevieve flew next to him. She appeared at first glance to be a beautiful woman about Victor's age, but something about her was bizarre and unearthly. She had light blue hair, a flowing gown, and pure white skin along with pointed ears.
The