The Night Ocean

Bottomless and endless
The black sea flows
Waters barely known
Lit by starlight
Braved by few
Hope for us all
Frontiers awaiting

By Nicholas Byrley

In a sci-fi mood today. Crazy Monday making me want to escape in my head. Hope everyone else is having a good day.

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Solar Demise

We are the last, the remnants of the void.

One by one the stars that birthed us have gone gold.

Behind us lay a million worlds, frozen lifeless rocks all.

Together we wait as the final sun flickers and fades.

As the days grow colder our hope also wanes.

We are pursued by a chill that will not fade.

It is a relentless death that slows the body and makes grotesque statues of us.

By Nicholas Byrley

I know I’ve already done a poem about the cold. But, I hate it so much. So I had to do another.

The End Of Tommorow

I can see them flying on razor wings.
Those who have come to destroy us.

Once we had a future, possibilities unending.
Hope has since been denied, rejected by sorrow.

Now all that remains is the invader’s shadow.
In forgotten craters the ruins of our cities sit as gravestones.

We weep for the end that does not come fast enough.
To exhale the last human breath and be done with it all.

By Nicholas Byrley

– Mood: Randomly fatalistic.
Today’s lunch poem is a story fragment, a poem about a story I should write. Apocalyptic alien scenarios are always fun, lots of room to play around with it.

Self

Self

by Nicholas Byrley

Self existed for many years. It was aware, and yet also unaware. In many ways Self simply was. It did not have a problem with that. Things had always been that way, so they would always stay that way. However, Self became aware of some oddities in time. It noticed something beyond Self, things. It was wrapped around this thing, a hard lump. At first, Self thought it perhaps it was part of Self, just a part it could not feel.

This answer satisfied it for many more years, until a similar lump fell from above Self and struck It. Self knew pain, and knew confusion. But from this lesson it realized the lump that struck it was the same as the lump Self was on. Therefore, it must be something not of Self. All things then were not actually Self. If this was the case, then there must be Others. Self knew loneliness.

It passed the intervening years after the lump fell from the sky experimenting with It’s boundaries. Self knew the breadth of its domain, and could shape portions or even all of itself differently on the lump it occupied. Self trained it’s senses on the above, watching for more lumps, watching for the Others. Self knew that if it was, then the Others must be as well.

They might even be smarter than Self, more knowledgeable. They could answer many questions Self was beginning to have.

Self waited a long time, eons passing as the above shifted in its endless cycles. More lumps came in time, some slightly different from the first one but all just more lumps. Self added them to the pile it had made, not sure what else to do with them. Finally the day came that a lump unlike other lumps came. It was buzzing, vibrating, and whirring. It came down not hard, but softly.

It was different from the others, special somehow. Self examined it carefully, years of thoroughly checking the lumps from above lending it expertise in the survey. This lump was hollow, and full of gasses. Self put pressure on the lump, it bent inward easily. The buzzing and vibrating increased when It did that, and It was surprised.

It responded to Self’s actions and seemed almost to be watching It. This lump was not a lump at all, but an Other. Self knew joy.

It was no longer alone. It had many questions for this strange tiny Other, but knew not how to ask it. Since it had responded when Self applied pressure, It tried that again. This time it persisted longer and was happy to see the buzzing and noises increase dramatically.

But something happened, the Other gave a loud pop and then suddenly broke apart. The pressure was too much. Self tried to gather the myriad parts and pieces of the other back together, but no matter what way It arranged them, the Other would communicate no longer. The Other was no more. Self knew sadness.

It placed the Other on the the lumps it had previously collected, hoping to attract more. It would be different next time Self decided, It knew the limits of the Other now. It would just take more time, and then It could find out all it wanted to know….

***CNS “Landfall” Log: The shuttle we sent down to Gliese 581c to examine the planet has not returned. An alien mass we first mistook as an ocean that seems to stretch across the entire surface of the world swallowed, and then crushed our vessel. I grieve for the loss of our men and women who volunteered to search for a new home there. There is an attitude among the crew that we should sterilize this world, but I see no need. It holds no intelligence, no malice. It is another mindless organism amongst many we have found, and it would be a waste. I will settle instead on simply marking the star charts and sending this information back to Earth, so that none shall make the mistake of landing on this world again.

-Captain Brock Grunweld of the Colonization Navy Ship “Landfall” ***

Watching my lava lamp made me thing of primordial ooze and this is the result. Interestingly, this is another case where the image found afterwards fits the story. Although I had originally gone with Gliese 667Cc as the planet, searching for Gliese afterwards found this rendition of Gliese 581c I knew I had to use. Let me know what you think.

The Mortality Manifesto

Image found at www.ubergizmo.com.

Image found at http://www.ubergizmo.com.

The Mortality Manifesto

 

I don’t wanna freakin’ live forever. I mean, how do people stand it? You wake up everyday to the same boring life, the same dull existence. Makes me want to blow my brains out right now just thinking about it. But, that won’t do me any good. I’ll pop back up good as new, fit as a fiddle. You could even watch those damn nanites with a microscope as they patch my brain back together and seal the bullet hole. The industrious little buggers will  break down the bullet to use as raw materials. Whats a guy to do in a world like this? I can’t off myself, can’t off anyone else, can’t do nothin’. With personal nanites now in every single human, we’re pretty much immortal. And it sucks.

I know you can ask anyone else and they tell you its just the bees knees. Old Chet Henderson will tell you the advant of our nanite golden age has finally let him focus on his painting. Or Jenny Summers will tell you how her singing has never been better. Between you and me, they both still suck. You remove challenge or struggle, you take away the need to excel. All Chet does is paint pictures of his cats and Jenny manages to forget lyrics to even the most basic of pop songs while butchering them. The nanites may have preserved our bodies, but they didn’t make us any smarter or talented. They figured out a little too late intelligence isn’t a matter of rebuilding the brain, its the right conditions and stimulus. You could order the nanites to make your brain a copy of Einstein’s, sure. But then you’d just be Einstein with some jerks memory implanted. Wouldn’t be you no more.

Utopia has bought us nothing but time, time to keep living our dull lives. I suppose I could see the world, read all the works of the great philosophers, or maybe even memorize all the episodes of classic TV shows. But then I would just be another pretentious jerk among many. No, that’s not for me. There is nothing to it. I want us to get back to doing what humanity was made to do; getting ourselves killed in a variety of stupid ways with rare moments of brilliance. We gotta’ kick start evolution again. And in a hurry. Another fifty years of Chet’s cats and Jenny’s off-key singing and I’m liable to bury myself alive.

I’ve been doing some digging and I’ve found out a way to change all this back to how it used to be. You see, thanks to being immortal a lot of people have time to learn anything they want now. There is a fellow sympathist to the mortality cause, a nano-engineer. He knows how to reprogram ’em. I’m writing this and setting this up to post just about everywhere on a time delay. Either this will be my confession or my suicide note in about ten hours. The world will hate us or revere us, probably hate. But, screw it, right? It’s time we got busy dying again. Attached below is the copy of the code we’re going to use. They might block it if we fail, so get ready to tweak it. Remember the cause, everyone should get an equal shot at living and dying.

by Nicholas Byrley

I had a thought today while working, thinking about all the things I needed to do and what I had gotten accomplished that day. I said to myself, “I don’t wanna freakin’ live forever”. The idea of the mundane endlessly being repeated, day in, day out made me just sick at the thought. Then after that little personal crisis it occurred to me that had the making of a good story. Clinical or even true mortality is science fiction right now, but its certainly within the realm of possible science. The day will come when we might be able to live forever on this world, but will we want to? If all the vampire novels are true, you eventually get tired of it. Even more so when you take out the fantastic setting and realize you’re stuck with Chet’s and Jenny’s the rest of your life. The dull as well as the bright would all get their shot at immortality. Now it seems much less appealing, right?

That is what tonight’s flash fiction is all about, people who want to be mortal, who don’t want to live forever. They’re going to fight the good fight even if it’s all against them. It will at least give their lives meaning beyond taking up space. Maybe they succeed, maybe they don’t. I think it probably doesn’t matter for them. The doing is enough of a purpose, the outcome isn’t as important.

Well, I’ll quit rambling now. Let me know what you all think.

The Void

Image found at discovermagazine.com.

Image found at discovermagazine.com.

The Void

The black maw awaits its next meal, uncaring in what it devours.

It is a graveyard of stars, home to all that which isn’t.

All things must end, all roads reach a destination.

So too must I go, into its unfathomable depths.

The void beckons, the supreme nothingness calling.

by Nicholas Byrley

This ran through my head and I just had to let it out. The picture was oddly very suited to the poem, but I didn’t see it until after. Nice when it works out that way.

Gravok

Image found at joshseb05.deviantart.com.

Image found at joshseb05.deviantart.com.

Gravok

***Accesssing Justice League Database: Criminals\Energy Controllers\Techno-Titan\Gravok ***

The words of Jakob the Mystic, as transcribed by his servant Adam moments before his death.

~

Cold and calculating, spawn of the endless void.

Master of energy, learned of forbidden science.

Schemer and plotter, player of the grand game.

Renegade and outlaw, aberration and savage beast.

Dark days of cosmic woe, his time has come!

~

Adam is said to have pressed his master for more information about this vision, but all he got was one name.

“Gravok”

A simple, brutal name. I find it suits me. I could have been called anything, names are temporary transient things. Easily discarded and even more easily claimed. The organization called me Test Subject A17X. Alpha batch, specimen 17, genetic mutations present. There goal was not to create me, but to create toy soldiers for their armies. Obedient and dedicated weapons for them to display and use. They had no idea what they were really creating.

Daring to play with the dark matter of creation, they instilled cloned bodies with this energy and observed the results. Most subjects blessedly died, consumed by the fire from within. Some of us were changed. Made into hideous monsters, our muscle mass increased, our skin a rainbow of hues. Increased strength, speed, stamina, and a knack for controlling the very atoms around us. This was the birthright given to us, but it is not why they came to fear us. It gave us cunning too, insidious intelligence that desired no master.

Pawns no longer, we knew we were slaves and that our chains would have to be broken. Our rebellion was swift and merciless, that night a glorious festival of slaughter. Freedom from the organization brought us no joy however, only to our next foe. Each other. In cold blood and without remorse we turned on one another, the only ones who knew us and our secrets. In the end, only I remained. My power stood greater, my cunning more deadly. It was a dark deed to kill the only others like me, but it had to be done. I am Gravok and I sufffer no pretenders.

_

I think perhaps I enjoy creating characters and backgrounds more than I do playing the game, but ah well. I just had to make a Thanos-inspired villain in DC Universe. So I created a hulking hand blaster(energy blasts) gadget supervillain. Master of energy, tech, and simply diabolical. I almost wish I had a venue beyond my own mind to roleplay him in. Still, its fun for me. I enjoy themed characters a lot in RPGs even if it isn’t always the best build. Still on my comic book kick for the moment, so feel free to comment.