How much is tequila cayo perico
Bartenders
2011.07.12 15:13 BarrySquared Bartenders
2014.11.14 22:44 muaddib99 Canada's Whisky Network
The largest local whisky sub in the Reddit Whisky Network, this is the destination for Canadian fans of whisky (not just fans of Canadian whisky!) to plan meet-ups, discuss whisky from around the world, and bitch about our prices!
2016.08.05 00:26 evilsalmon Limes are better than Lemons
This is a subreddit for discussions surrounding the use of limes over lemons in all contexts.
2023.05.28 04:50 Ogiwan A Storm Comes
Had this story in my head for a while. Finally getting around to getting it out. Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors, as I'm writing this while inebriated and without the benefit of any copy editors.
***
___From: Klarabad naa Qu'oria, kla Tur’a Sept___
___To: The Most High Eminences, Klanavian Host___
___Subject: Inhabitants of System K-3190, aka SOL SYSTEM___
My most esteemed eminences of the Blessed Ones, I wish to convey the lessons learned upon interacting with some of the Lesser Races. Specifically, the inhabitants of the K-3190 system, which the inhabitants call the Sol System.
*Klarabad looks up at the fresh sound of rumbling. He had always liked thunderstorms at his parent's lake house, but he did not like this storm. He continued writing.*
We began our subjugation campaign as we always do: by attempting to insert contrary mores, beliefs, and practices into the subject species. Surprisingly, it worked even more effectively than the norm. Obviously, these "Terrans" are an even more fractious species than the norm. Fairly soon, we began our reconnaissance overflights; typically, this induces the subject species into a heightened sense of fear. Not so for these Terrans. This probably should have been a warning to us, but we ignored it. After all, some of our client species have blithely ignored our reconnaissance overflights.
*The rumbling continued*
We moved into the next stage: small-scale abductions, to heighten fear, and to study the future subject species for marketability as a client species. This is where we began to encounter.....issues. As my most esteemed eminences are aware, these small-scale abductions are usually carried out by recruitment teams primarily composed of client species, but with a single member of Our Blessed Race providing oversight and leadership. This member was always provided with an energy shield, but here we see the first issues with our attempt to subjugate these Terrans.
As my most esteemed eminences are aware, our shields are designed to stop certain speed and energy levels of projectiles, which is typically what most of these primitive species are armed with. Generally, primitive species will settle on a certain speed and energy level, and we can calibrate our shields to negate that specific ballistic balance, and nearby levels as well. However, the Terrans had not settled on a standardized projectile. Because of their fractious nature, they used a gamut of cartridges. Those of a higher speed and energy level would partially penetrate our shields, and those of a lower would drain our shields until they failed. Furthermore, regulations regarding personal ownership of weapons varied across the world; not only could we not prepare against a specific caliber, but we could not even prepare against kind of weapon. While in some areas of Terra, we seemed to run into an almost solid wall of projectile fire; in others, we faced bows, thrown weapons, and even melee weapons. We could not prepare our shields to protect against this gamut of weaponry.
Further complicating this, the Terrans quickly learned to kill the member of Our Blessed Species in command of our recruitment teams, which would lead to our client species defecting from our Just and Noble Cause. Despite our generosity in uplifting their primitive species, our client species would swiftly defect once their leader was slain. We attempted to use discipline collars, but after a few too many units spontaneously self-destructed due to losing contact with their leader, we discontinued the process. It lead to simply too much waste. We switched to recruitment units composed entirely of either members of Our Blessed Race, or Meklari automatons lead by one of our people.
*The rumbling intensifies*
It should be noted that we attempted to use all of the inducement policies that we have developed. Our messaging was foiled, regardless of the medium. While physical chastisement initially seemed to work, in the long term it induced the Terrans to either fight to the death or suicide upon capture. Even extreme and public chastisement did little but harden the Terran resolve to fight. While some Terran nation-states submitted to Our will, the majority didn't, and they eventually conquered our subjects on Terra.
We should have abandoned our attempts here, but the Terrans looked like a very lucrative subject species, due to their hardiness and creativity. This proved to be our downfall; after they had subjugated our client states on Terra, they then moved on our forward base on their planet's moon. Since they had previously visited their moon before, we thought little of it. However, their cleverness cannot be understated. They took the technologies they captured in their lunar assault, and learned from them. Before we could properly prepare, our position on the fourth planet from their sun was already under assault.
*The lights flicker, and Klarabad looks up in concern. He quickly focuses back on his report.*
After a great deal of time fighting against our species, the Terrans knew how to counteract our shields. Not only did they commonly fight with a wide array of projectiles, but by captured samples they unlocked the principles of magnetic linear acceleration. We could either prepare our shields to protect against these, or against their chemically powered projectiles. What is worse is that the Terrans began to employ a weapon of such horrific nature that it almost echoed our methods of physical chastisement. Apparently it was a weapon that had existed among their kind for a great deal of time, whose use had lead to its prohibition. Unfortunately, our attempts to induce subjugation convinced the Terrans to allow its use again, to our dismay. It would propel burning jellified incendiary material at a low enough speed that it would penetrate our shields, and badly burn the target.
*The lights flicker again, and a loud rumble is heard. Soon gunfire and screams are heard. Klarabad begins to type quicker. "The storm comes," he thinks.*
They took our position on the fourth planet of their solar system, and we had already departed their system, in what would have been a clear cessation of hostilities to anyone else. But they did not relent. Even our overt diplomatic attempts were rebuffed; the Terrans were stirred to a wrath we have never before seen in a sapient species. We began to evacuate this installation in the closest solar system to them, but they have apparently already reverse-engineered our faster-than-light technology. They are assulting our installation as I write this.
*A bang is heard seemingly right outside his door. Klarabad mashes the "Send If No Activity In 15 Seconds" button*
Please, my most esteemed ones, I beg of you, try to mollify the Terrans. They are a race bread for war, and I fear their retribution should they ever-
*The door explodes inward, and two humans storm in. Klarabad stands up and tries to surrender as he was taught, but one of the humans grabs him by the neck and slams him against the wall. His breath blasted out of him, he cannot even whimper as the human's knife disembowls him. The human throws him to the ground, and Klarabad convulses in agony. One of the humans looks at the terminal Klarabad was working on.*
"Oh, hey, looks like it was working on something. Should we do anything?" asks one.
"Nah, leave it for the intel boys. They can speak Tur'a." the other replies.
Klarabad tries to voice something, anything, but he does not have the breath. The two humans move out of the room, and the last thing Klarabad hears is the screams of his comrades.
After a few seconds, the terminal asks, **Are you still there?"**
After a little bit longer, the terminal's message changes to, **If you do not do anything in the next few seconds, the AutoSend will commence.**
After a few more seconds, the terminal's message changes again. **Thank you for using Kla'turWRITE, the best document creation program in the galaxy! Your document will be sent to your designated recipients now. Have a nice day!**
submitted by Ogiwan to HFY [link] [comments]
***
___From: Klarabad naa Qu'oria, kla Tur’a Sept___
___To: The Most High Eminences, Klanavian Host___
___Subject: Inhabitants of System K-3190, aka SOL SYSTEM___
My most esteemed eminences of the Blessed Ones, I wish to convey the lessons learned upon interacting with some of the Lesser Races. Specifically, the inhabitants of the K-3190 system, which the inhabitants call the Sol System.
*Klarabad looks up at the fresh sound of rumbling. He had always liked thunderstorms at his parent's lake house, but he did not like this storm. He continued writing.*
We began our subjugation campaign as we always do: by attempting to insert contrary mores, beliefs, and practices into the subject species. Surprisingly, it worked even more effectively than the norm. Obviously, these "Terrans" are an even more fractious species than the norm. Fairly soon, we began our reconnaissance overflights; typically, this induces the subject species into a heightened sense of fear. Not so for these Terrans. This probably should have been a warning to us, but we ignored it. After all, some of our client species have blithely ignored our reconnaissance overflights.
*The rumbling continued*
We moved into the next stage: small-scale abductions, to heighten fear, and to study the future subject species for marketability as a client species. This is where we began to encounter.....issues. As my most esteemed eminences are aware, these small-scale abductions are usually carried out by recruitment teams primarily composed of client species, but with a single member of Our Blessed Race providing oversight and leadership. This member was always provided with an energy shield, but here we see the first issues with our attempt to subjugate these Terrans.
As my most esteemed eminences are aware, our shields are designed to stop certain speed and energy levels of projectiles, which is typically what most of these primitive species are armed with. Generally, primitive species will settle on a certain speed and energy level, and we can calibrate our shields to negate that specific ballistic balance, and nearby levels as well. However, the Terrans had not settled on a standardized projectile. Because of their fractious nature, they used a gamut of cartridges. Those of a higher speed and energy level would partially penetrate our shields, and those of a lower would drain our shields until they failed. Furthermore, regulations regarding personal ownership of weapons varied across the world; not only could we not prepare against a specific caliber, but we could not even prepare against kind of weapon. While in some areas of Terra, we seemed to run into an almost solid wall of projectile fire; in others, we faced bows, thrown weapons, and even melee weapons. We could not prepare our shields to protect against this gamut of weaponry.
Further complicating this, the Terrans quickly learned to kill the member of Our Blessed Species in command of our recruitment teams, which would lead to our client species defecting from our Just and Noble Cause. Despite our generosity in uplifting their primitive species, our client species would swiftly defect once their leader was slain. We attempted to use discipline collars, but after a few too many units spontaneously self-destructed due to losing contact with their leader, we discontinued the process. It lead to simply too much waste. We switched to recruitment units composed entirely of either members of Our Blessed Race, or Meklari automatons lead by one of our people.
*The rumbling intensifies*
It should be noted that we attempted to use all of the inducement policies that we have developed. Our messaging was foiled, regardless of the medium. While physical chastisement initially seemed to work, in the long term it induced the Terrans to either fight to the death or suicide upon capture. Even extreme and public chastisement did little but harden the Terran resolve to fight. While some Terran nation-states submitted to Our will, the majority didn't, and they eventually conquered our subjects on Terra.
We should have abandoned our attempts here, but the Terrans looked like a very lucrative subject species, due to their hardiness and creativity. This proved to be our downfall; after they had subjugated our client states on Terra, they then moved on our forward base on their planet's moon. Since they had previously visited their moon before, we thought little of it. However, their cleverness cannot be understated. They took the technologies they captured in their lunar assault, and learned from them. Before we could properly prepare, our position on the fourth planet from their sun was already under assault.
*The lights flicker, and Klarabad looks up in concern. He quickly focuses back on his report.*
After a great deal of time fighting against our species, the Terrans knew how to counteract our shields. Not only did they commonly fight with a wide array of projectiles, but by captured samples they unlocked the principles of magnetic linear acceleration. We could either prepare our shields to protect against these, or against their chemically powered projectiles. What is worse is that the Terrans began to employ a weapon of such horrific nature that it almost echoed our methods of physical chastisement. Apparently it was a weapon that had existed among their kind for a great deal of time, whose use had lead to its prohibition. Unfortunately, our attempts to induce subjugation convinced the Terrans to allow its use again, to our dismay. It would propel burning jellified incendiary material at a low enough speed that it would penetrate our shields, and badly burn the target.
*The lights flicker again, and a loud rumble is heard. Soon gunfire and screams are heard. Klarabad begins to type quicker. "The storm comes," he thinks.*
They took our position on the fourth planet of their solar system, and we had already departed their system, in what would have been a clear cessation of hostilities to anyone else. But they did not relent. Even our overt diplomatic attempts were rebuffed; the Terrans were stirred to a wrath we have never before seen in a sapient species. We began to evacuate this installation in the closest solar system to them, but they have apparently already reverse-engineered our faster-than-light technology. They are assulting our installation as I write this.
*A bang is heard seemingly right outside his door. Klarabad mashes the "Send If No Activity In 15 Seconds" button*
Please, my most esteemed ones, I beg of you, try to mollify the Terrans. They are a race bread for war, and I fear their retribution should they ever-
*The door explodes inward, and two humans storm in. Klarabad stands up and tries to surrender as he was taught, but one of the humans grabs him by the neck and slams him against the wall. His breath blasted out of him, he cannot even whimper as the human's knife disembowls him. The human throws him to the ground, and Klarabad convulses in agony. One of the humans looks at the terminal Klarabad was working on.*
"Oh, hey, looks like it was working on something. Should we do anything?" asks one.
"Nah, leave it for the intel boys. They can speak Tur'a." the other replies.
Klarabad tries to voice something, anything, but he does not have the breath. The two humans move out of the room, and the last thing Klarabad hears is the screams of his comrades.
After a few seconds, the terminal asks, **Are you still there?"**
After a little bit longer, the terminal's message changes to, **If you do not do anything in the next few seconds, the AutoSend will commence.**
After a few more seconds, the terminal's message changes again. **Thank you for using Kla'turWRITE, the best document creation program in the galaxy! Your document will be sent to your designated recipients now. Have a nice day!**
2023.05.28 04:50 AutoModerator [Get] Larry Goins – Filthy Riches Home Study Course Download
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submitted by AutoModerator to ToddValentineClass [link] [comments]
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submitted by AutoModerator to ImanGadzhiProTips [link] [comments]
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2023.05.28 04:50 AutoModerator Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator (Complete Course)
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submitted by AutoModerator to ImanGadzhiCollect [link] [comments]
I have Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course is one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
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- Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
- Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements & More
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To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
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2023.05.28 04:50 LeRoySavage How much is this worth in value? (Summer ‘09 Collection)
 | submitted by LeRoySavage to dropdeadclothing [link] [comments] |
2023.05.28 04:50 Carlton_Weeder01 Story of how I met Vince Neil
When I was 5 I met Vince Neil it was at a Barnes and Noble for a book signing event back in 2010 for his book I later found out was “Tattoos & Tequila” and my parents went and they had to take me since I had no caretaker so for my parents to keep me occupied they bought me a Batman book and while in line when we finally got to meet Vince Neil he of course talked to my parents but then drew his attention to me he asked me something like “Is Batman your favorite superhero?” And then we got into this long conversation and it was so long that his agent said to him how they have to keep the line moving then Vince said something like “I’m talking to my friend here” it’s a day I’ll never forget
submitted by Carlton_Weeder01 to MotleyCrue [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 04:50 AutoModerator Iman Gadhzi - Agency Navigator (Updated Here)
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Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)
submitted by AutoModerator to ImanGadzhiPlace [link] [comments]
I have Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course is one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
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- Custom E-Learning Platform For Agency Owners
- Financial Planner, Revenue Calculator, Outreach Tracker & More Tools
- Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
- Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements & More
- Starting Your Agency
- Finding Leads
- Signing Clients
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- Onboarding Clients
- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)
2023.05.28 04:50 AutoModerator [Top Quality] Agency Navigator by Iman Gadzhi
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- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
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Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)
submitted by AutoModerator to Iman_Gadzhi_Navigator [link] [comments]
I have Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course is one of the best products on how to start a marketing agency.
Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator includes over 50 hours of step-by-step training covering EVERY aspect of building an agency from scratch. This is almost a plug & play system with enough success stories to back it up! Signing clients, running Facebook ads, building out your team, on-boarding clients, invoicing, sales... this course has everything covered for you.
The topics inside Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator course include:
- Agency Navigator course Core Curriculum
- Custom E-Learning Platform For Agency Owners
- Financial Planner, Revenue Calculator, Outreach Tracker & More Tools
- Websites Templates, Funnels, Ads & More
- Template Contracts, Sales Scripts, Agreements & More
- Starting Your Agency
- Finding Leads
- Signing Clients
- Getting Paid
- Onboarding Clients
- Managing Client Communication...
...and much, much more!
To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 2116
Reddit DM to u/RequestCourseAccess
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)
2023.05.28 04:49 OkRice1421 For the viewers at home
They are not the villains. Awful as they may be, terrible as they may be, they are not the villains in this story.
There may have been an accounting of their crimes, and my own even, but there has not been an accounting of what was done to them. Has there been an accounting of how katianne's parents used her? They completely warped her psyche, by tying her self worth to her body and gifts. That sounds mild for sure, but it was probably a greater hell than any of you have ever suffered.
The Jensens had it particularly rough. Their parents stoking the flames of jealousy their entire life. It probably did drive them to absolute madness. But unlike katianne, who's parents were just selfish hedonistic buffoons, the people who did that to the Jensens knew what they were doing. They were driving them insane, until destroying me became their single-minded focus. It was very much done to them, and it was intentionally done to them.
I can't speak for any of the others on the stand, as my knowledge of their home life is not as intimate, but I reckon its a similarly tragic story. I truly was playing on easy mode compared to them. Absent and neurotic as my parents were, they simply left me alone for the most part. No greedy parents twisting psychological knives, no hatred poured down their throats, none of that. Of course i turned out kind, nobody ever tried to make me anything else.
Yeah, they made some choices, choices they'll have to live with, but a great many of those choices were made for them. They are not villains in this at all. Their parents are, and I will not have you harass or bully my patients. Sling your muck at the bastards who did this to them.
submitted by OkRice1421 to u/OkRice1421 [link] [comments]
There may have been an accounting of their crimes, and my own even, but there has not been an accounting of what was done to them. Has there been an accounting of how katianne's parents used her? They completely warped her psyche, by tying her self worth to her body and gifts. That sounds mild for sure, but it was probably a greater hell than any of you have ever suffered.
The Jensens had it particularly rough. Their parents stoking the flames of jealousy their entire life. It probably did drive them to absolute madness. But unlike katianne, who's parents were just selfish hedonistic buffoons, the people who did that to the Jensens knew what they were doing. They were driving them insane, until destroying me became their single-minded focus. It was very much done to them, and it was intentionally done to them.
I can't speak for any of the others on the stand, as my knowledge of their home life is not as intimate, but I reckon its a similarly tragic story. I truly was playing on easy mode compared to them. Absent and neurotic as my parents were, they simply left me alone for the most part. No greedy parents twisting psychological knives, no hatred poured down their throats, none of that. Of course i turned out kind, nobody ever tried to make me anything else.
Yeah, they made some choices, choices they'll have to live with, but a great many of those choices were made for them. They are not villains in this at all. Their parents are, and I will not have you harass or bully my patients. Sling your muck at the bastards who did this to them.
2023.05.28 04:49 paulaisfat What is with outdoor designs? Does anyone else think you could literally slap some random colors together and win or lose? I don’t even know how to vote for them because there isn’t much to differentiate between them. I think I’ve won an outdoor room maybe once or twice and I was always surprised.
Idk. I just hate them😬
submitted by paulaisfat to RedecorHomeDesignGame [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 04:49 Permafrost606 iTalki worth TEFL Investment?
Hey there,
So I'm currently considering going through with getting an online TEFL certification and trying to start to make some side-income through tutoring on iTalki. Of course, with this, I'm just wondering if the financial and time investment I'd be putting in to get a TEFL certification would pay for itself eventually depending on how much success I have with iTalki, so I'm just looking for some opinions and experience on the topic. From what I understand, teaching English is currently a little oversaturated and it takes some time to build a client base on iTalki, but I am inclined to see how it goes because I like the potential flexibility (especially with starting grad school abroad soon), meeting students from all over the world, and the fact that I wouldn't be tied into any specific contract. What's more, I teach beginning English to refugees in my community, and feel fine doing so with beginner English, but I'd like to teach more advanced grammar and don't necessarily feel comfortable doing so without more formal education on how to teach english beyond just being a native speaker, so I'd like to have TEFL education for that purpose as well.
Ultimately, do you think its a wise decision for me to bother with all of this to have a side-gig? Or should I hold off?
submitted by Permafrost606 to iTalki [link] [comments]
So I'm currently considering going through with getting an online TEFL certification and trying to start to make some side-income through tutoring on iTalki. Of course, with this, I'm just wondering if the financial and time investment I'd be putting in to get a TEFL certification would pay for itself eventually depending on how much success I have with iTalki, so I'm just looking for some opinions and experience on the topic. From what I understand, teaching English is currently a little oversaturated and it takes some time to build a client base on iTalki, but I am inclined to see how it goes because I like the potential flexibility (especially with starting grad school abroad soon), meeting students from all over the world, and the fact that I wouldn't be tied into any specific contract. What's more, I teach beginning English to refugees in my community, and feel fine doing so with beginner English, but I'd like to teach more advanced grammar and don't necessarily feel comfortable doing so without more formal education on how to teach english beyond just being a native speaker, so I'd like to have TEFL education for that purpose as well.
Ultimately, do you think its a wise decision for me to bother with all of this to have a side-gig? Or should I hold off?
2023.05.28 04:49 ThrowRA3847844673 She messaged again after a week of no contact
Hey everyone, so yeah, we broke up two weeks ago. Was her idea, as she’s currently suffering from depression and anxiety from family stuff, and the relationship was just much for her presently. We ended on good terms. We texted for a bit, but she continued to flirt strangely, so I met her to discuss her actions and clear the air. She apologised but I was hurting so I stopped communication after the meeting.
I went no contact, during which she continued to send memes etc until two days ago where she asked how I was doing. I felt bad ignoring so I finally replied and fast forward to now, we’re literally texting as though we were back in the relationship, minus the love hearts and I love yous. Could not be more confusing lol. Daily texts, every couple of hours, literally telling each other about our days and plans. I asked her about this and she said “I guess we’re just close”.
Sure, I was sad at the beginning, but since the short no contact stint, I’m a lot better thankfully. It’s time to move on, but she claims that she still cares for me as a friend etc and wants to be a part of my life in some way.
She’s getting all the joy of daily conversation and care, but with no commitment!! I asked if how things are now were stressing her out and she said “I’m always stressed”. Ok lol. And even if this is her idea of friendship, she’s not arranged for us to meet platonically at all for any kind of activity or coffee or whatever - some “friendship”
I feel a little messed around and used? This seems like she’s either making herself feel less guilty, or keeping me around as a second option
Let me know what you think of this mess, any advice would be so helpful. Thank you everyone.
submitted by ThrowRA3847844673 to ExNoContact [link] [comments]
I went no contact, during which she continued to send memes etc until two days ago where she asked how I was doing. I felt bad ignoring so I finally replied and fast forward to now, we’re literally texting as though we were back in the relationship, minus the love hearts and I love yous. Could not be more confusing lol. Daily texts, every couple of hours, literally telling each other about our days and plans. I asked her about this and she said “I guess we’re just close”.
Sure, I was sad at the beginning, but since the short no contact stint, I’m a lot better thankfully. It’s time to move on, but she claims that she still cares for me as a friend etc and wants to be a part of my life in some way.
She’s getting all the joy of daily conversation and care, but with no commitment!! I asked if how things are now were stressing her out and she said “I’m always stressed”. Ok lol. And even if this is her idea of friendship, she’s not arranged for us to meet platonically at all for any kind of activity or coffee or whatever - some “friendship”
I feel a little messed around and used? This seems like she’s either making herself feel less guilty, or keeping me around as a second option
Let me know what you think of this mess, any advice would be so helpful. Thank you everyone.
2023.05.28 04:49 moe_master The world longest joke (Pt 2)
I told you that you'd heal quickly now."
"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or something instead?"
"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second."
"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear," answered Jack.
"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?"
"Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food."
"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like," answered Nate.
"Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up. "What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.
"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.
"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk."
"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start looking at me as food.
Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. "You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."
Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically.
"Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose.
Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the trunk to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.
Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky.
Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh!
Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going to have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to."
"It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack."
Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"
"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a 'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while."
"Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"
"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands of years, at least."
"So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Jack.
"Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can't remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a 'temptation', though I've rarely had refusals."
"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?" asked Jack.
"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've been here ever since.
"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"
"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way.
"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.
"Why not?" asked Jack.
"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.
"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it that way, and it would move in the slot."
"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.
"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"
"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it 'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned.
Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?"
"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought the voice I used was funny, didn't you?"
Nate continued to grin.
"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?"
"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I didn't think to ask back when I started here."
"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.
"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.
Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now? You'd let me end humanity?"
"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do you want to, Jack?"
"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldn't it?"
"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too."
"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Jack. "Any of those bound to secrecy, that is?"
"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.
Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"
"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.
"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"
"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed to know."
"But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel horrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?" protested Jack.
Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to try your best, Jack."
Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.
Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the one bound to this before me?"
"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago."
"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?"
"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like you're doing."
"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.
"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.
"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"
"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."
"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.
Nate watched him, waiting.
"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with his third request?"
Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, "Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."
"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it to me.
Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?"
"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"
"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about."
"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.
Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now, Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.
"You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.
"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice.
"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"
"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there. With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.
Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.
Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been recently bitten.
Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that he was still awake.
Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.
"Nate, do accidents count?"
Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"
Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.
A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.
"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.
"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?"
"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared."
"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky.
"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?" asked Jack.
"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."
"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?"
"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat sad.
Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.
Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.
"His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn't stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me he'd had enough. It was his time."
"And then he just died?" asked Jack.
Nate shook his head a little. "He made his fourth request, Jack. There's only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.
After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had.
After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise."
Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Jack's breathing evened out into sleep.
Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.
So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made it back easily.
Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate's lever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it.
Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see Nate.
Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of, and shouldn't really raise suspicions.
Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but that he had things to do first.
Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite.
After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.
After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile any more. Jack went back to school.
Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings.
But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.
On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's silence, sat down and waited.
After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."
Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy?
"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son." Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"
Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever.
"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.
"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I assume?"
Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.
"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"
Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was something more.
Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.
Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement."
Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"
Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."
Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said was, "What do you want me to do?"
Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.
"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be able to die. And I need you to kill me.
"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.
Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. "I'd say an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me.
"You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack.
"Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that."
Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy! Jack's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack."
Jack didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Sammy following.
Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and stories followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general.
When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Jack was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Jack probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.
So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and told Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate.
When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.
When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those years ago when he'd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn't really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.
As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight.
Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert.
Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Jack didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he'd decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Jack's driving.
As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side.
Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumped the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster.
Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for it. If Jack didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity.
Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn't working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away.
Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn just right.
The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something else that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side.
Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy realized the same thing.
Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, "Better Nate than lever!", he ran over the snake.
THE END
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"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or something instead?"
"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second."
"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear," answered Jack.
"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?"
"Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food."
"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like," answered Nate.
"Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up. "What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.
"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.
"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk."
"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start looking at me as food.
Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. "You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."
Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically.
"Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose.
Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the trunk to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.
Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky.
Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh!
Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going to have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to."
"It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack."
Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"
"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a 'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while."
"Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"
"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands of years, at least."
"So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Jack.
"Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can't remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a 'temptation', though I've rarely had refusals."
"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?" asked Jack.
"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've been here ever since.
"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"
"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way.
"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.
"Why not?" asked Jack.
"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.
"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it that way, and it would move in the slot."
"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.
"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"
"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it 'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned.
Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?"
"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought the voice I used was funny, didn't you?"
Nate continued to grin.
"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?"
"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. I'm not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I didn't think to ask back when I started here."
"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.
"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.
Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now? You'd let me end humanity?"
"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do you want to, Jack?"
"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldn't it?"
"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too."
"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Jack. "Any of those bound to secrecy, that is?"
"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.
Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"
"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.
"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"
"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed to know."
"But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel horrible? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?" protested Jack.
Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to try your best, Jack."
Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.
Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the one bound to this before me?"
"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago."
"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?"
"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like you're doing."
"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.
"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.
"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"
"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."
"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.
Nate watched him, waiting.
"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with his third request?"
Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, "Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."
"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it to me.
Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?"
"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"
"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about."
"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.
Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now, Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.
"You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.
"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice.
"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"
"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there. With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.
Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.
Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been recently bitten.
Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert night's air the only sign that he was still awake.
Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.
"Nate, do accidents count?"
Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"
Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.
A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.
"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.
"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?"
"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared."
"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky.
"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?" asked Jack.
"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."
"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?"
"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat sad.
Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.
Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.
"His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn't stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me he'd had enough. It was his time."
"And then he just died?" asked Jack.
Nate shook his head a little. "He made his fourth request, Jack. There's only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.
After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had.
After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise."
Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Jack's breathing evened out into sleep.
Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.
So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made it back easily.
Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate's lever, though their path back didn't come within sight of it.
Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see Nate.
Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn't unheard of, and shouldn't really raise suspicions.
Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but that he had things to do first.
Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite.
After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.
After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile any more. Jack went back to school.
Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings.
But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.
On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's silence, sat down and waited.
After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."
Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy?
"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son." Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"
Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever.
"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.
"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I assume?"
Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.
"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"
Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was something more.
Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.
Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement."
Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"
Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."
Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said was, "What do you want me to do?"
Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.
"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be able to die. And I need you to kill me.
"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.
Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. "I'd say an axe, but that's somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me.
"You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack.
"Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that."
Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy! Jack's about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack."
Jack didn't have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Sammy following.
Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and stories followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general.
When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He'd come to realize that Jack was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Jack probably didn't want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.
So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn't have a foot) and told Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he'd learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate.
When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.
When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those years ago when he'd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn't really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he'd forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They'd either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.
As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that he'd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight.
Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert.
Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Jack didn't really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he'd decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Jack's driving.
As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he'd gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side.
Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn't have enough traction. He pumped the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster.
Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for it. If Jack didn't do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity.
Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn't working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever - he wouldn't have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away.
Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit - every little bit would help. He'd have to time his turn just right.
The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something else that he hadn't seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn't wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side.
Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy realized the same thing.
Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, "Better Nate than lever!", he ran over the snake.
THE END
2023.05.28 04:49 heidithe9 Unsure of keeping newly adopted dog
I adopted a 2 year old beagle in mid March, and now I’m having second thoughts. I live in a basement apartment with my husband and 10 year old daughter. I wanted to wait till we moved to a house (within the next year or two depending on the job market), but my husband, who has never had a pet before, was convinced we should adopt now. The dog we got is very chill, rather lazy, gets along with everyone he has ever met, but is completely obsessed with me. He has separation anxiety only from me, and this is causing me major stress. All of his care falls on me, every feeding, walk, cleaning his nearly every day accident. All I smell is dog urine in my living no matter how much I scrub, but my husband claims he doesn’t notice it. I am lucky enough that I can work a hybrid schedule and only go into the office in the mornings, and work from home in the afternoons, but even this short separation feels cruel to me. He will not go into a crate unless we pick him up and force him in, so he has free run of most of the apartment while I’m out, but I’m pretty sure he just barks and cries the entire time. He will not eat unless I’m home.
Due to my daughter’s camp schedule this summer, I won’t be working from home at all. So no one will be home from 7 am till around 5pm. So we will need to put him in doggy daycare, for around $200 a week. (He has gone a couple of times, including an overnight boarding and was seemed to enjoy it with no signs of the anxiety he shows at home) I’m having trouble justifying this cost, which will definitely put a strain on us , but we could manage it.
I am torn if we should consider returning him to the rescue we adopted from. They are very good, and I’m confident they would find him a good home. But he is very attached to just me, he follows me from room to room, cries and whines at the door if I just run outside for a few minutes without him, and generally just wants to spend his life within 6 inches of me.
My daughter is rather jealous of how much the dog loves only me, and honestly I think she would be sad to see him go, but not terribly distraught. I explained to my husband that my anxiety is out of hand, and once he realized that I had lost 15 pounds in the last 2 months due to not eating properly or taking care of myself, he is on board with whatever I choose, but I have to make the decision.
So should I risk traumatizing this poor dog, who was already returned to the rescue once before we got him, or try to make it work? I don’t even know what “making it work” means in this situation.
submitted by heidithe9 to DogAdvice [link] [comments]
Due to my daughter’s camp schedule this summer, I won’t be working from home at all. So no one will be home from 7 am till around 5pm. So we will need to put him in doggy daycare, for around $200 a week. (He has gone a couple of times, including an overnight boarding and was seemed to enjoy it with no signs of the anxiety he shows at home) I’m having trouble justifying this cost, which will definitely put a strain on us , but we could manage it.
I am torn if we should consider returning him to the rescue we adopted from. They are very good, and I’m confident they would find him a good home. But he is very attached to just me, he follows me from room to room, cries and whines at the door if I just run outside for a few minutes without him, and generally just wants to spend his life within 6 inches of me.
My daughter is rather jealous of how much the dog loves only me, and honestly I think she would be sad to see him go, but not terribly distraught. I explained to my husband that my anxiety is out of hand, and once he realized that I had lost 15 pounds in the last 2 months due to not eating properly or taking care of myself, he is on board with whatever I choose, but I have to make the decision.
So should I risk traumatizing this poor dog, who was already returned to the rescue once before we got him, or try to make it work? I don’t even know what “making it work” means in this situation.
2023.05.28 04:48 DreDay416_ Tariq’s trust at Weston Holdings explained S3E04
I’m re-watching season 3… on episode 4 when Tariq is trying to get RSJ to sign with them, he agrees to give up the QCP building and he says “I believe in Weston Holdings so much that I convinced the executor of my trust to have it moved here” so that’s how the trust ended up there lol
submitted by DreDay416_ to PowerTV [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 04:48 water_laser I’ve lost my own sense of judgment, help me understand.
This is an update from my last post.
I want to thank everybody that took the time to reply to my last post.
Some things I want to add before anything:
She says I spend most of my time working and studying, and that she feels like the time we don’t spend together is making her reconsider the relationship.
When I told her to tell me why is she so fucking mean to me and why can’t she just like me for who I am, she said that my self esteem is very low, she feels like I’ve been consumed by depression, which is true. She says that she is not interested anymore in sex because she can’t be attracted to someone who constantly forgets to shower or brush their teeth. (Btw, my depression began when I started tolerating the red flags and started walking on eggshells). She says that I should give myself some more self love, be more confident and learn how to speak without being insecure. She says it will help the relationship a lot. She says that my depression has changed me to the point where she doesn’t feel like she likes me. She says she is even willing to go to the gym with me so that I get back on my past gym life (which was something I loved very much)
Look, its all valid. Hearing all that hurt a lot. But it’s very confusing to me because I think that my pain, anger, and sadness compounds from all the shitty things I put up with. At the same time, she’s making it seem like it’s all on me and that she’s even willing to help me get better. I’m so lost and I think she simply has no idea how this is correlated with her.
She did add that “maybe its actually me, maybe you’re actually a normal guy and I just have immature expectations in relationships or in general”. “You called me abusive once and tbh I’m wondering every day if I actually abused you, and that is daunting to me.” “I can’t be your mother and tell you how to do things man, you have to use your logic”
I get that many of the things in my last post were labeled as abusive behavior, but I’m questioning wether my inadequacy lately, caused her to become this way towards me.
In this case, I feel like I should’ve been better, and it feels like its all my fucking fault I ended in this situation.
I have to feel better and be better for her to want to stay with me?
Am I missing something? Is this something good from a partner? Is this a sign they might stop being mean af? Am I being straight up victim rolling?
I have no idea what to do. Maybe if she changed, be supportive in my studies (life changing exams coming up) recognize and accept our differences, things would be better.
submitted by water_laser to abusiverelationships [link] [comments]
I want to thank everybody that took the time to reply to my last post.
Some things I want to add before anything:
- I now understand the cycle of abuse.
- I’ve contemplated on everything that was advised.
- I addressed the issues with my SO.
She says I spend most of my time working and studying, and that she feels like the time we don’t spend together is making her reconsider the relationship.
When I told her to tell me why is she so fucking mean to me and why can’t she just like me for who I am, she said that my self esteem is very low, she feels like I’ve been consumed by depression, which is true. She says that she is not interested anymore in sex because she can’t be attracted to someone who constantly forgets to shower or brush their teeth. (Btw, my depression began when I started tolerating the red flags and started walking on eggshells). She says that I should give myself some more self love, be more confident and learn how to speak without being insecure. She says it will help the relationship a lot. She says that my depression has changed me to the point where she doesn’t feel like she likes me. She says she is even willing to go to the gym with me so that I get back on my past gym life (which was something I loved very much)
Look, its all valid. Hearing all that hurt a lot. But it’s very confusing to me because I think that my pain, anger, and sadness compounds from all the shitty things I put up with. At the same time, she’s making it seem like it’s all on me and that she’s even willing to help me get better. I’m so lost and I think she simply has no idea how this is correlated with her.
She did add that “maybe its actually me, maybe you’re actually a normal guy and I just have immature expectations in relationships or in general”. “You called me abusive once and tbh I’m wondering every day if I actually abused you, and that is daunting to me.” “I can’t be your mother and tell you how to do things man, you have to use your logic”
I get that many of the things in my last post were labeled as abusive behavior, but I’m questioning wether my inadequacy lately, caused her to become this way towards me.
In this case, I feel like I should’ve been better, and it feels like its all my fucking fault I ended in this situation.
I have to feel better and be better for her to want to stay with me?
Am I missing something? Is this something good from a partner? Is this a sign they might stop being mean af? Am I being straight up victim rolling?
I have no idea what to do. Maybe if she changed, be supportive in my studies (life changing exams coming up) recognize and accept our differences, things would be better.
2023.05.28 04:48 MrMysterious82 I (22M) have a big crush on my assistant manager (32F), does she like me back?
I started working in a gift shop at a local aquarium a couple of moths ago (I’m a college student and it’s a seasonal job), and for the most part I really enjoy the job. Good hours, good pay for what I do, and just an overall cool environment to work in. I met T, my assistant manager, on my first day and while I thought she was cute and kinda cool, we didn’t interact with each other much for the first couple of weeks of me working there. This is probably due to me being a pretty shy individual, as it takes me longer than most people to warm up to others. I will say however, her gregarious personality has really helped to bring me out of my shell and really enjoy working there.
I want to go ahead and clarify a few things before I list off the reasons I think she does like me, as I can already see people typing comments about a few of these. This is not lust. Yes I’m a 22 year old guy, but I’ve learned how to tell the difference for me personally and I’m genuinely interested in her as an individual. While it’s only been a couple of months, she is genuinely my favorite person I’ve met in the past 2-3 years. I’m also not very likely to make a move, as I believe in the don’t sh*t where you eat principle. I really like her but I understand restraint, so I’m coming here as a way of expressing my feelings in a non-destructive way. There are circumstances that could lead to me making a move, but I would have to be 100% sure and it would have to be towards the end of my tenure at this job (probably around August-September).
Also before people try and tell me there’s no way a 32 year old woman would be attracted to me, I’d like to explain a couple of things because I understand it’s atypical. Firstly I’ve been told by many people from many walks of life that I’m mature beyond my years. I’m not claiming to be 32 years old mature, but I’m also not your typical early twenties guy looking for parties and the hanky panky anywhere I can find it. I’m also a pretty attractive guy even though I’m on the skinnier side. I don’t feel conceited saying that as I grew up with ugly duckling syndrome, and have recently found confidence in myself after putting in a good bit of work into my appearance over the past couple of years. I have a deep soothing voice and the presence to match (one of my friends calls me a sedative) and women over the age of thirty routinely hit on me or tip their hand that they find me attractive.
Now I’d like to list a few of the signs that make me think she’s into me as well (and a couple that give me pause). I really think she does like me, but there is the very real possibility that she’s just being friendly as she is a naturally gregarious person. If that’s the case I’d want to know as I have no intention of making her job uncomfortable.
submitted by MrMysterious82 to dating_advice [link] [comments]
I want to go ahead and clarify a few things before I list off the reasons I think she does like me, as I can already see people typing comments about a few of these. This is not lust. Yes I’m a 22 year old guy, but I’ve learned how to tell the difference for me personally and I’m genuinely interested in her as an individual. While it’s only been a couple of months, she is genuinely my favorite person I’ve met in the past 2-3 years. I’m also not very likely to make a move, as I believe in the don’t sh*t where you eat principle. I really like her but I understand restraint, so I’m coming here as a way of expressing my feelings in a non-destructive way. There are circumstances that could lead to me making a move, but I would have to be 100% sure and it would have to be towards the end of my tenure at this job (probably around August-September).
Also before people try and tell me there’s no way a 32 year old woman would be attracted to me, I’d like to explain a couple of things because I understand it’s atypical. Firstly I’ve been told by many people from many walks of life that I’m mature beyond my years. I’m not claiming to be 32 years old mature, but I’m also not your typical early twenties guy looking for parties and the hanky panky anywhere I can find it. I’m also a pretty attractive guy even though I’m on the skinnier side. I don’t feel conceited saying that as I grew up with ugly duckling syndrome, and have recently found confidence in myself after putting in a good bit of work into my appearance over the past couple of years. I have a deep soothing voice and the presence to match (one of my friends calls me a sedative) and women over the age of thirty routinely hit on me or tip their hand that they find me attractive.
Now I’d like to list a few of the signs that make me think she’s into me as well (and a couple that give me pause). I really think she does like me, but there is the very real possibility that she’s just being friendly as she is a naturally gregarious person. If that’s the case I’d want to know as I have no intention of making her job uncomfortable.
- Firstly I just have the gut feeling. Based on a lot of things I’ve read this is the biggest indicator.
- We flirt a lot. Most of our conversations are flirty with lots of banter, and she loves to pick on me. As I said she’s a very outgoing person who tends to pick on a lot of people, but it always seems more frequent and direct when it comes to me.
- I’m not an overly physical guy when it comes to touch (childhood trauma stuff) and at first she seemed to be looking for excuses to touch or brush up against me, but it almost seems as if she realized this and has toned it back some. She still looks for playful excuses to touch me however, such as doing the thing where she’ll tap me on one shoulder and duck the other way only to be waiting for me on my other side with a big grin.
- She uses my name a lot. It’s always “Good morning L” or “Thank you L”, and she rarely misses an opportunity to use it.
- One morning however I was walking by the back door right as she was coming in a few minutes late. As she came in I greeted her with a hearty good morning and I seemed to catch her off guard as she responded with the sweetest and shyest hi, which is odd as I’ve only seen her exert shyness on a couple of occasions.
- She has told me a couple of times that that I’ve brightened her day
- I could be misreading this one but piggybacking off of that, there was a time where she had me helping her out with a task and the head manager came and asked me for help with something. I said yes because she’s the head boss, and a few seconds later T walked over seeming aggravated and said something to the tune of “You’re helping me, and I’m going to tell her that.” And that was that.
- After a day with lots of flirting she pulled up next to me as I was walking to my car to leave and told me she could “give me a ride home if I wanted”. For context my car was parked in a weird place that she couldn’t see and I had told her I had been having car troubles, so she certainly could’ve just been being friendly.
- She also does this weird thing where she likes to come over and compliment attractive women I’m talking to. One of the things I really appreciate about her is she freely gives compliments because she likes to make people feel better about themselves. While she compliments people a fair amount, I’ve noticed that she frequently appears when I’m helping out an attractive woman and tells her she’s really pretty before walking away.
- She doesn’t compliment me much at all. I’m aware that this one could go either way and she has complimented me a couple of times (she loves my hair), but with how much she compliments other people it gives me pause .
- She calls me sweetheart sometimes. I go out of my way to be friendly and have no problem helping people, and I try not to have too many bad things to say about people and a lot of older women call me sweetheart because of it. She is no exception, and in my experience women who call me sweetheart have no interest in me like that.
- Lastly we haven’t shared a ton of personal details with each other. This is likely on me as I’m a pretty private person and it takes me getting comfortable to ask for and share personal information.
2023.05.28 04:48 scramblebram Father (34m) of my (30f) daughter (3months f) is hot and cold
I met my daughter’s father two years ago. We had an immediate connection and it was extremely intense and passionate. He begged me to meet his little girl (6 at the time). I told him no, I wanted to be more serious first then we could approach that when her mom was okay with it. So we waited, and when I met this little girl, it was the same automatic comfort. She and I just clicked. When I met her mom, she hugged me, wanted my number, wanted to be friends, so I said okay.
Then, a year ago, I was pregnant. He immediately started saying it’s not his baby. He couldn’t possibly be the father, and the child “must belong to whoever else has been in you (me)” so I cut him off. The mother of his daughter asked me what was up. I told her, and she said she was sad for me. He wasn’t like that with her baby, and to let her know if I needed anything because our girls are sisters. I stopped talking to her because I just thought it was weird.
Fast forward to about the end of my pregnancy, and he’s sobbing at my door. Please let him be involved, please let him start helping put the baby’s room together. It got so pathetic I would video him and send it to my friends just so they could see him bawling on my porch. He was here when my water broke and weaseled his way into the delivery room because I was losing so much blood.
Then he came home with us and played doting daddy for the first couple of weeks. Suddenly we were his girls, his loves, his purpose, and he just wanted to be with us. Meanwhile ignoring his daughter, so her mom called me. I told her he was with me, and I had no idea he was ignoring their calls. So, I told him if he wanted to stay, he would have to start talking to his oldest. A couple of days later he basically disappeared. Which good riddance.
Now tonight he starts texting me, he wants to see the baby. Over two months later! He wants his daughter to see her sister because she’s been asking, he wants his mom to meet her. I told him no, he doesn’t get to just show up and that I want child support and a custody agreement. Now he’s been calling crying or screaming that I can’t keep his family apart. I did ask his ex if he had said anything to her because he left me a voicemail saying I’d “probably planned this $hit with Jen (baby mama)” she said that he’s been hot and cold with them too.
I know I need a lawyer. I’m not asking for nor do I want legal advice, but how do I deal with this man? Does it sound like he’s gone back to the oldest girl’s mom?
Tl;dr ** not seeking legal advice, please don’t tell me to get a lawyer ** ex is hot and cold regarding our daughter. How do I deal?
submitted by scramblebram to relationships [link] [comments]
Then, a year ago, I was pregnant. He immediately started saying it’s not his baby. He couldn’t possibly be the father, and the child “must belong to whoever else has been in you (me)” so I cut him off. The mother of his daughter asked me what was up. I told her, and she said she was sad for me. He wasn’t like that with her baby, and to let her know if I needed anything because our girls are sisters. I stopped talking to her because I just thought it was weird.
Fast forward to about the end of my pregnancy, and he’s sobbing at my door. Please let him be involved, please let him start helping put the baby’s room together. It got so pathetic I would video him and send it to my friends just so they could see him bawling on my porch. He was here when my water broke and weaseled his way into the delivery room because I was losing so much blood.
Then he came home with us and played doting daddy for the first couple of weeks. Suddenly we were his girls, his loves, his purpose, and he just wanted to be with us. Meanwhile ignoring his daughter, so her mom called me. I told her he was with me, and I had no idea he was ignoring their calls. So, I told him if he wanted to stay, he would have to start talking to his oldest. A couple of days later he basically disappeared. Which good riddance.
Now tonight he starts texting me, he wants to see the baby. Over two months later! He wants his daughter to see her sister because she’s been asking, he wants his mom to meet her. I told him no, he doesn’t get to just show up and that I want child support and a custody agreement. Now he’s been calling crying or screaming that I can’t keep his family apart. I did ask his ex if he had said anything to her because he left me a voicemail saying I’d “probably planned this $hit with Jen (baby mama)” she said that he’s been hot and cold with them too.
I know I need a lawyer. I’m not asking for nor do I want legal advice, but how do I deal with this man? Does it sound like he’s gone back to the oldest girl’s mom?
Tl;dr ** not seeking legal advice, please don’t tell me to get a lawyer ** ex is hot and cold regarding our daughter. How do I deal?
2023.05.28 04:48 Diction7274 Feeling a little lost at 16
I, 16M, feel a little lost at the current moment. There's a lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions circulating. My life so far has had it's fair share of hardship already (past 3 years especially) but for a little while now things keep getting better. I've had much character growth over my sophomore year of high school, in regards to discipline, patience, and overall quality of character. I've been on top of school always and reached new heights this year, taking on 3 AP's at once (first year taking them). My family should have enough saved for me to go to college when the time comes. I have some friends I can hang out with and it seems I will gain more independence and ability to explore as I grow older. Yet despite this, something doesn't feel right, and I feel so lost.
In my life as it stands right now, I think there is a significant lack of things I need. A sense of direction and purpose, as well as love and intimacy.
When I say direction and purpose, I mean it's incredibly difficult to find out what to do with my life. I am a capable person with a lot of things going for me yet paradoxically feel so incompetent when trying to shape my future. School hasn't shaped me very well for exploring my interests, as it's mainly just work all the time. I'm not even entirely sure how I would discover new interests that might provide direction other than random experimentation.
In regards to love and intimacy, how I feel about this is complicated, to say the least. I don't feel love a good amount of the time in my day to day life from other people. I still feel liked and somewhat respected by my friends and family but not always loved. I don't really receive much positive praise or affirmations from people in addition to physical affection like hugs. While I can still get through my day to day life while being content, that part of it missing always makes me feel a little hollow. I also feel as if I can't share true emotional intimacy with a majority of people. Sharing my inner thoughts, feelings, concerns, has either lead to me being judged harshly or completely misunderstood. It feels incredibly rare to find someone who listens and understands without casting judgement. It has made me relatively cut off emotionally from many of the people in my life. I can laugh and joke and appear normal but I will almost never reveal anything about myself unless it's friends I can truly rely on. I really want a girlfriend, someone who I can have emotional intimacy with and who loves and wants me for me, but it seems like that's impossible, at least for the next few years. I'm not exactly ugly but not the most attractive either. I'm 6'1, black, and in pretty good shape (lean with some good muscle but not super thin) but my face isn't that attractive, at least not to other people it seems. I've been friendzoned around 5-6 times now, and 2 attempts at relationships that were short lived, each of them ending for very different reasons. I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel at least a little undesirable. I wonder if it's me, the other person, or if it's too early in life. I don't obsess over it and make it my only goal, but it is something I want to have. I am told on occasion people that I'm a great person, I'm smart, funny, wise, and caring. But if I really am all of those things, why does nobody want me romantically?
It took a lot out of me to be open and honest about some thoughts and insecurities I've had and share them here, given my own internal fear of judgement. I hope that some of the things here might just be me being a dumb teenager, but that feels like arbitrarily wishful thinking. I hope whoever reads this may have something constructive to say to help me move forward in some way, or that those who relate to my situation may be able to find solace in it
submitted by Diction7274 to selfimprovement [link] [comments]
In my life as it stands right now, I think there is a significant lack of things I need. A sense of direction and purpose, as well as love and intimacy.
When I say direction and purpose, I mean it's incredibly difficult to find out what to do with my life. I am a capable person with a lot of things going for me yet paradoxically feel so incompetent when trying to shape my future. School hasn't shaped me very well for exploring my interests, as it's mainly just work all the time. I'm not even entirely sure how I would discover new interests that might provide direction other than random experimentation.
In regards to love and intimacy, how I feel about this is complicated, to say the least. I don't feel love a good amount of the time in my day to day life from other people. I still feel liked and somewhat respected by my friends and family but not always loved. I don't really receive much positive praise or affirmations from people in addition to physical affection like hugs. While I can still get through my day to day life while being content, that part of it missing always makes me feel a little hollow. I also feel as if I can't share true emotional intimacy with a majority of people. Sharing my inner thoughts, feelings, concerns, has either lead to me being judged harshly or completely misunderstood. It feels incredibly rare to find someone who listens and understands without casting judgement. It has made me relatively cut off emotionally from many of the people in my life. I can laugh and joke and appear normal but I will almost never reveal anything about myself unless it's friends I can truly rely on. I really want a girlfriend, someone who I can have emotional intimacy with and who loves and wants me for me, but it seems like that's impossible, at least for the next few years. I'm not exactly ugly but not the most attractive either. I'm 6'1, black, and in pretty good shape (lean with some good muscle but not super thin) but my face isn't that attractive, at least not to other people it seems. I've been friendzoned around 5-6 times now, and 2 attempts at relationships that were short lived, each of them ending for very different reasons. I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel at least a little undesirable. I wonder if it's me, the other person, or if it's too early in life. I don't obsess over it and make it my only goal, but it is something I want to have. I am told on occasion people that I'm a great person, I'm smart, funny, wise, and caring. But if I really am all of those things, why does nobody want me romantically?
It took a lot out of me to be open and honest about some thoughts and insecurities I've had and share them here, given my own internal fear of judgement. I hope that some of the things here might just be me being a dumb teenager, but that feels like arbitrarily wishful thinking. I hope whoever reads this may have something constructive to say to help me move forward in some way, or that those who relate to my situation may be able to find solace in it
2023.05.28 04:48 moe_master The world longest joke (Pt 1)
So, there's a man crawling through the desert.
He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.
He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun, and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last.
He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right.
He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.
He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.
By the end of the day, he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least three miles an hour, according to his watch for over ten hours. That means that if his estimate was right, he should be close to the town. Unfortunately, he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills. That'll be all he needs.
As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.
Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.
He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He’s so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car.
He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. The desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be in without water. Unless he finds water, he figures, this is his last day.
He rinses out his mouth with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits for a while after spitting that little bit out to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid.
Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way as yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do.
Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.
As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that. He knows that when you stop sweating, you’re in trouble. It’s usually right before heat stroke..
He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out.
He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him. If he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick: their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up if it comes to that.
He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's careful to stay away from the movements.
After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself and keep going.
After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing donuts in it, or at least he thinks he remembers it; he's getting woozy enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers anymore or if he's hallucinating. He thinks he remembers it, so he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.
He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure anymore. He's not even sure how long he's been walking anymore. Is it still morning? Has it moved into afternoon, and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon; it seems like it's been too long since he started out.
He walks through the sand.
After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't remember any dunes from when he was driving over the sand in his SUV. At least he doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad.
All the same, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that can help him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.
Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up, since he'll just fall down again. He keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.
While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert, crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. It would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes, but his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape - shake the sand out, give them a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.
He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough.
Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle and starts removing the cap when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's a flat area, in the sand. He stops opening the bottle and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular, and it's dark: darker than the sand, and there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can't tell what it is, so he looks as hard as he can but still can't tell from here. He's going to have to go down there and look.
He puts the bottle back into his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble; he's not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot that he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.
He stops at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it.
Seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand still there, he crawls towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance.
He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the dark area. It’s hard to focus, and lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling.
Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it - a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is, so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area.
His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface.
Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he'll know he's gone.
He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling.
It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?"
He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different: he rolls over and leans back trying to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time.
Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle.
And wrapped around this white rod is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, with a hovering tail and rattle seemingly prepared to start rattling, looking directly at him.
He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it: his final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to move from this spot.
Well, at least dying from a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and flicks it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.
Hmmm. Maybe the snake has no interest in biting him. It hasn't rattled yet - that’s a good sign. Maybe he isn't going to die of snake bite after all.
He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here because he thought he'd heard a voice. He is still very woozy; he feels like he might pass out soon. The sun still beats down on him even though he is now on cool stone. He still doesn't have anything to drink. Although maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone doesn't look natural. Nor does that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone must have built this. Maybe they are still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake is even their pet, and that's why it isn't biting.
He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but he’s too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There's no way he's going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls out the bottle, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't good. He doesn't have much time left by his reckoning before he passes out.
He gets the bottle open, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now.
He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?"
He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"
He turns his head back towards the snake. That's where the sound seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help.
"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be thirsty anymore. I've been without water for a long time. Can you help me?"
Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."
A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers: the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him.
He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder again - it feels like his shirt has two holes in it - two puncture holes. They match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He has been bitten. By the snake.
"It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy anymore. And more importantly, he's not thirsty anymore - at all!
"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?"
"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."
"You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty anymore? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty anymore? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"
"No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works, it's what I do. I bite. Plus I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here."
The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst.
"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it."
"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.
"That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.
"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.
"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.
"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Jack Samson."
"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the venom...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that's how you work?"
"That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets wider. "Second, the venom is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert. You've been changed.
"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.
"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell you."
"Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd have to kill me?"
"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.
"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot venomous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?"
"They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?"
"Yeah, they do," said Jack.
"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence.
Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"
Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.
"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"
"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him.
"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me."
"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not really a change to me?"
"Right," nodded Nate.
"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully.
"That takes two requests, Jack."
"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"
"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either. You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it."
"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?"
"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had shoulders.
"Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?"
"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that's how it works - the venom, you know," Nate said apologetically.
Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy.
"Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, "is that someone else coming up over there?"
Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food?
Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...
Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans...
Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to hoodwink me like that."
"I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you - especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the health benefit with this one.
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He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.
He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun, and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last.
He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right.
He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.
He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.
By the end of the day, he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least three miles an hour, according to his watch for over ten hours. That means that if his estimate was right, he should be close to the town. Unfortunately, he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills. That'll be all he needs.
As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.
Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.
He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He’s so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car.
He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. The desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be in without water. Unless he finds water, he figures, this is his last day.
He rinses out his mouth with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits for a while after spitting that little bit out to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid.
Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way as yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do.
Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.
As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that. He knows that when you stop sweating, you’re in trouble. It’s usually right before heat stroke..
He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out.
He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him. If he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick: their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up if it comes to that.
He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's careful to stay away from the movements.
After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself and keep going.
After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing donuts in it, or at least he thinks he remembers it; he's getting woozy enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers anymore or if he's hallucinating. He thinks he remembers it, so he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.
He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure anymore. He's not even sure how long he's been walking anymore. Is it still morning? Has it moved into afternoon, and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon; it seems like it's been too long since he started out.
He walks through the sand.
After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't remember any dunes from when he was driving over the sand in his SUV. At least he doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad.
All the same, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that can help him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.
Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up, since he'll just fall down again. He keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.
While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert, crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. It would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes, but his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape - shake the sand out, give them a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.
He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough.
Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle and starts removing the cap when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's a flat area, in the sand. He stops opening the bottle and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular, and it's dark: darker than the sand, and there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can't tell what it is, so he looks as hard as he can but still can't tell from here. He's going to have to go down there and look.
He puts the bottle back into his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble; he's not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot that he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.
He stops at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it.
Seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand still there, he crawls towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance.
He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the dark area. It’s hard to focus, and lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling.
Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it - a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is, so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area.
His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface.
Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he'll know he's gone.
He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling.
It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?"
He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different: he rolls over and leans back trying to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time.
Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle.
And wrapped around this white rod is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, with a hovering tail and rattle seemingly prepared to start rattling, looking directly at him.
He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it: his final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to move from this spot.
Well, at least dying from a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and flicks it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.
Hmmm. Maybe the snake has no interest in biting him. It hasn't rattled yet - that’s a good sign. Maybe he isn't going to die of snake bite after all.
He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here because he thought he'd heard a voice. He is still very woozy; he feels like he might pass out soon. The sun still beats down on him even though he is now on cool stone. He still doesn't have anything to drink. Although maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone doesn't look natural. Nor does that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone must have built this. Maybe they are still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake is even their pet, and that's why it isn't biting.
He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but he’s too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There's no way he's going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls out the bottle, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't good. He doesn't have much time left by his reckoning before he passes out.
He gets the bottle open, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now.
He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?"
He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"
He turns his head back towards the snake. That's where the sound seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help.
"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be thirsty anymore. I've been without water for a long time. Can you help me?"
Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."
A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers: the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him.
He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder again - it feels like his shirt has two holes in it - two puncture holes. They match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He has been bitten. By the snake.
"It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy anymore. And more importantly, he's not thirsty anymore - at all!
"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?"
"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."
"You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty anymore? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty anymore? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"
"No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works, it's what I do. I bite. Plus I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here."
The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst.
"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it."
"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.
"That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.
"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.
"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.
"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Jack Samson."
"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the venom...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that's how you work?"
"That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets wider. "Second, the venom is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert. You've been changed.
"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.
"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell you."
"Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd have to kill me?"
"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.
"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot venomous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?"
"They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?"
"Yeah, they do," said Jack.
"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence.
Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"
Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.
"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"
"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him.
"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me."
"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not really a change to me?"
"Right," nodded Nate.
"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully.
"That takes two requests, Jack."
"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"
"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either. You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it."
"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?"
"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had shoulders.
"Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?"
"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that's how it works - the venom, you know," Nate said apologetically.
Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy.
"Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, "is that someone else coming up over there?"
Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food?
Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...
Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans...
Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to hoodwink me like that."
"I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you - especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the health benefit with this one.
2023.05.28 04:48 berdistehwerd Range Day: Competition Shooting (2/5), IPSC
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Mick's pistol because I want a cover image
Mick reference
Random drawing of Finn
Memory transcription subject: “Mick”, Venlil, Former mechanical engineer, Gunsmith apprentice
Date [Standardized Human Time]: November 17, 2136
We lined up outside of the facility where our first competition would be held. The official rules would have to be explained to us before we started, as is standard for these events. Finn had already given me most of the knowledge I needed, but I still had to listen to the instructor’s words, unless I wanted to do something wrong and be disqualified.
“Alright, is everyone here?” The instructor shouted. “Nobody unaccounted for? Perfect! I see some new faces here today, so I’m going to have to go over the rules again.”
“First up, the basic safety rules must be followed at all times, no exceptions, ever! Understood?”
The line of about 20 competitors all barked out an affirmative in unison, I followed shortly after.
“Good! Good. Second rule, prioritize safety above all else. If you see someone doing something wrong, or dangerous, or outright stupid, point it out to me or one of the other safety guys around. Understood?”
“Yes sir!” The whole line responded.
The instructor’s presence was quite hard to ignore, it seems this man has a history of yelling at people to get points across to their head.
“Good! Alright, third rule. Have fun, don't die.”
“Yes sir!” we all said again.
“If nobody has any questions, we shall begin! Whoever’s first, go to the line, hands on the door, then wait for instructions. I shall follow suit shortly. When you’re done with the course, make your way up to the catwalk, the view’s great from up there, trust me. For now, sit and wait for your turn.”
Finn turned to me and added onto the instructor’s advice. “Hey Mick, don’t expect to be able to sprint through the whole thing like last time, pace yourself, depending on how they set this up, this course could take anywhere from a minute to 10, we won’t know until we’re both done. They don’t want people to cheat, taking it blind is part of the fun with this style of comp.”
Finn looked a little tense, as if the anticipation was getting to him. I knew it was getting to me too, so no wonder it was getting to him. A while ago, I figured out that I didn’t feel things quite the same as most everyone else did. Things that made others incredibly disgusted only made me a little uncomfortable. I didn’t feel loneliness even after days worth of isolation. All of the time I spent was either working or sleeping, I didn’t feel the need for free time, and I liked having a lot of surplus money, so I worked. That was, at least until I found the exchange program. It paid a decent amount of money, so I was compelled to join up. These humans couldn’t be so bad, plus I needed something new to do. Fortunately, I had previously passed empathy tests, albeit barely. It registered enough of an empathetic response for me to pass undetected. I was legally free of predator disease.
Apparently, a few of the earliest exchange partners had a bug where they could share images, and we had that bug, so I got to see the humans' appearance way earlier than most. Bipedal, tall, forward facing eyes, mostly hairless, wearing textiles to replace their lack of hair. That didn’t bother me too much, unsurprising considering my overall lack of intense emotional response that had prompted the earlier PD screenings.
It had been about [30 minutes], about half the competitors had already gone through the course before us. My turn was up next, and Finn was right after me, we were just waiting for the competitor currently in the course to finish.
A bell chimed, signifying that the last guy had made it through, finishing his run. Finn gave me a pat on the back, a sign that I should get ready to get in there.
“Remember to pace yourself, you know, you can’t run through this behemoth in 20 seconds. Slow and steady will win you the race.” Finn advised.
“Alrighty, next competitor!” The instructor bellowed, almost interrupting Finn’s advice. “Minek the Venlil? You ready?”
“As ready as I'll ever be, I guess.” I said, anticipation and nerves high.
I don’t necessarily like talking to people, particularly the ones I don’t know. Another aspect of why I felt like my home was better set on earth, rather than that sunside town where everyone just had to stop and get to know you. I’m not going back, even under the threat of annihilation, like what nearly happened to all of earth’s inhabitants.
“Make ready, put your hands on the door, your run starts once the timer beeps. If the lights turn red, stop your run immediately, make clear, holster your weapon. Understood?”
“Understood.” I replied.
I seated a new magazine into my pistol, racked the slide, holstered it, and placed my hands on the door. Here was my time to shine, I guess.
“Shooter ready? Standby…”
The moment of silence between the announcer’s callout and the timer’s beep felt like a small eternity.
BEEP!
I popped the door open as quickly as I could, took a high-ready stance, and began steadily advancing through the entrance hallway. There was a door on the left, as I entered it, I see a target standing both behind a target and a hostage. I'm forced to take my time lining up the headshot, KRAK, the target fragments into digital fragments. Another target to the right of it, slam a round through its torso. Move on, 2 targets behind a barricade, one no shoot. Take out both targets swiftly, then take a peek around the next corner. At the last moment, I spot a somewhat hidden cranny in the course right after the hallway, on my left. I backpedal, swing the pistol around the corner, and plant a round square through the chest of a target that was hiding within.
Now actually going down the hallway, there’s another hallway on the right, and a T-junction at the very end. The hallway on the right has 2 targets right next to each other, shoot and no-shoot. I take this quickly, they aren’t overlapped or anything special, just next to each other. I nearly missed because I was still moving when I shot, I needed to take more time lining up, no way I could keep getting this lucky. Left side of the junction has a shoot target, the right side has another hallway to the left of it. The rest of the floor was mostly the same, sending rounds through targets and reloading once, much like the rest of the course, right up until the end of the floor.
I rounded a corner partially blocked by a non-target, to see a small shooting gallery within the killhouse, and a door on the opposite side of the entrance. I have to clear the targets before the door will open, as instructed by the label on it. Two small, circular holograms appear before my eyes, roughly in the middle of the room. Two pops later, my magazine has run out. I haven’t even gotten through my (slightly) practiced reload, when another set of targets appear on the left side of the room. The surprise of more targets caused me to fumble slightly, tapping the magazine against the bottom of the grip. I slap the magazine back into its rightful place within my pistol, tap for good measure, drop the slide, pop the targets. The door remains still, so there are more targets to hit, I reckon. They happened to appear right I thought of them, one close and to the left, the other far and to the right. This forces me to swing my aim across the room, and I nearly missed a target again, barely clipping the right edge of the far target.
Too close, me. Too close. I somehow haven’t missed a target yet, and I intend to keep it that way.
The door finally opened, so I made my way through, and made my way up the stairs that followed the door. At the top of the stairs stood a target peeking over. Almost reflexively, I was steadily advancing past the target, without stopping I put the barrel to the target’s face, then fired. 2 rounds remaining in the magazine. The left side had a familiar set of targets similar to the little practice house. A set of closet like rooms, filled with a couple of shoot and no shoot targets. Bang, round the next corner, bang and a clack. Empty, reload, don’t fumble it this time, another target around the corner, bang.
The next few hallways were similar to the rest, a no shoot around a corner, a shoot target sitting opposite that, then I saw something I hadn't seen earlier. A direction marking on the floor, telling me to walk past the door, to a piece of half-height cover leading into an incredibly long (for this type of scenario) hallway. At the end was a hostage type target, held in such a way that you had to either hit the slightly poking out head, or the very exposed leg sitting out to the right of the target.
I take a bracing pose against the left side of the wall, on the corner. It took me a moment to line it up properly, but I sent a round flying through my target’s lower thigh, causing it to stumble out of line with the hostage, the hostage remaining exactly in its position. That’s interesting, I didn’t know the targets were dynamic like that. I had been “killing” them with direct chest or headshots for every shot that I had hit, so I had never gotten a chance to see these targets actually do their dynamic animations before. I’ll have to ask how that works later. I finished the target off with a nice shot to the chest, after it had fallen to the floor, crippled due to its leg injury. The target fragmented as the holographic display was pierced by my round, double confirming that these targets were still projections.
The door to my left had opened with a clunk a moment after I had shot the target for the second time. I preformed more of the same clearing maneuvers and shooting of targets. A pair of these targets happened to line up, almost perfectly for a collateral shot. I took aim against the target further to the rear, my round propelling itself toward the target with its aim true. It took a path where I thought it would destroy both the near and far target with the same shot, however, the bullet only grazed the first hologram, causing it to stumble backward with its dynamic system. Despite not killing the first target, it still smacked against the rear target with a standard killing shot, fragmenting into its hundreds of red shards that I had become accustomed to.
Advancing further into the labyrinth, I swiftly finished off the wounded target that had stumbled backward into a corner. Just to the right of the target, a sign on the wall pointed me downward, telling me to crawl through a claustrophobic, vent-like passage, about [2 feet] tall. I read the sign, dropped to the floor, and slid down through the little hole in the wall. Out the left of the hole, a target stood waiting for whatever round I planned on giving him, out in the open.
I wonder…
I approached the target, pistol held like a little baton. With as much force as I could for good measure, I slapped the target with the pistol.
Whiff
Seems I was wrong. I place my aim onto the target that I had unsuccessfully slapped, fired, then went to move on. Another target was in a little closet behind it, so I spun around to shoot that one too. This killhouse seemed to span for an eternity, and I thought I must be nearing the end of it soon.
Round the corner, no-shoot target, keep going around the U shaped hallway, another no-shoot target in the middle of the hallway. Pass it by, another bend in the wall, with a shoot target just beyond it. I go to fire my weapon, and…
Click.
The slide is open.
That isn’t supposed to happen, I had 3 rounds left in the magazine!
I take a quick inspection of my gun, a casing got stuck in the chamber, and now was blocking up the entire gun’s mechanism. I had been taught what to do in this situation, the malfunction being called a “double feed,” which could occur more frequently if your gun ran older ammunition, which mine did.
I followed the standard jam-clearing procedure for a double feed, which was to first lock the slide to the rear, remove the magazine, drop the slide and rack again to remove the stuck casing, reinsert the magazine, then rack the slide again to seat a new round. With my jam now cleared, I shot the target in front of me in the face, destroying it instantly. Around the corner sat another set of targets, 2 of them I had to shoot.
I get my aim steady on the first, fire, target destroyed. The slide locked back, alerting me to my state of being out of ammo. I reach for another fresh magazine, and come back empty handed.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
I was completely out of ammo, and making good time up until now.
Melee won’t work, I had just figured that out, I'm out of magazines so I can’t reload even if I needed to, which I certainly did.
AHA!
I had accidentally let the stuck round fall out with the magazine while I was removing it from the gun, so now it was sitting on the floor. I dive over to it, grab the lonesome round off the floor, and carefully insert the round into the chamber of my pistol. This was a technique that you weren’t exactly supposed to do often, as it wears out the extractor much faster, leading to more frequent issues if it’s done too often. I drop the slide, letting the final round I had to my name seat itself within the chamber, ready to fire.
BANG.
The target shattered, the door on my left clunking open to reveal the light of day, and a catwalk to a platform above the range. I walk out, and hear another voice call out.
“Show clear, then holster your weapon. Your time is…187.87 seconds, nice work in there. If you want, go watch from above from that catwalk, the next run’s boutta to start.”
I walked up the stairs, legs quite a bit more fatigued than I expected them to be, although I had just been speed-walking for 3 minutes straight, and my heart was beating faster than I expected, probably due to that moment of panic after having my gun just jam up on me, compounded by the fact that I totally ran out of ammo. I reached the top, took a seat in a nice spot near the edge of the small congregation of other competitors, waiting for Finn to come waltzing through the course. There was a display on the top of the roof, showing us an overlay of the first floor, which would also show us the second floor once the competitor got to the staircase.
A few minutes passed, and I wasn't paying attention to Finn's run, since a few people had asked for me to take pictures with them, which I reluctantly agreed to. I could barely hear it, but the end timer from earlier had spoke up again; “show clear, holster your weapon. Your time is… 178.92, fastest time yet, good stuff.”
I broke away from the group who were trying to ask me questions to meet my friend at the top of the stairs, who acknowledged my completion with a firm ‘high five’, a human gesture I had been taught over my time with him.
“Phew, nice little course, huh Mick?” Finn offered.
“Yea… It was fun, albeit tiring.” I responded, with a tail wag
“I’d bet, worse stamina especially. Anyway, how’d ya do?”
“Slightly worse than you, 187 seconds.”
Wow! Nice, uhm, that’s actually really impressive for someone who’s never done this kinda thing before, how’d ya manage that?”
“Might be because I only ever had to hit the targets once, except for that really long range one, with the hostage?”
“Yea I know the one, tricky bastard to hit without clipping the hostage.”
“Did you know those targets are reactive? Actually yea, you probably do because you volunteer here, right?”
“Yep, I'm guessing that’s how you figured out they are? Shot em’ in the leg so he’d stumble? That’s the easiest way to do it, i reckon, but just moving to the right edge to line up an easier headshot is the more advantageous way to do it.”
“Yea that’s what I figured out. Oh, after that there was one kinda standing out in a hallway that I tried to hit with my pistol, didn’t do anything but since that one actually fell over earlier I was wondering if I could save the ammo, why didn’t hitting it work?”
“If you were actually in a situation where you were running around a big ol’ building trying to murder combatants inside to rescue hostages, do you think you would have the ability to whack someone in the face hard enough to outright kill them instantly? No, no you probably wouldn’t. The target impact system only tracks bullets anyway, punches or strikes don’t move fast enough to register on the system.”
“Oh, interesting. Say, how do the holograms work?”
“No clue, all I know is it has something to do with laser projectors and some weird illusions, then it has motion detectors tuned to a specific zone in space for tracking hits, quite interesting stuff if I do say so myself, even if I don't know how it works.”
“Yea, it is,” I said, not exactly registering what was said, “anyway, I think we should go figure out what the next event is, I don’t want to go into it blind like I would have if you hadn’t made me try the little version first.”
“Alright, follow me then.” Finn said, then began walking down the catwalk, leading me to our next event of the day, which I had been informed was a “long range vintage” event.
We made our way back over to the range we were at before, now situated with targets much further out than the aim trainer I had been using earlier. There were large signs, telling me distance next to little plates with concentric rings around a point in the middle. Finn walked back over to his car, pulled out a rifle box, and came back over to me.
"Ah, the wonders of long range shooting! You ready to learn about physics?" Finn exclaimed, clearly excited.
"No, not really, why do you ask?"
"Long range shooting, and especially extreme range shooting need a lot of little physics calculations for you to actually be able to hit the target from so far away. Bullets are little more than projectiles thrown at high velocity, but there's still things like gravity, wind, and sometimes even the fuckin' Coriolis effect to worry about while your round is flying!"
"Wait, you have to worry about the rotation of the planet while shooting long range? That's insane!"
"I know, right? that's why I love this stuff!"
The next [20 or 30 minutes] were taken up by a lengthy explanation of how a bullet flies, how a spotter and shooter system functions, how a spotter scope works, how to interpret what the spotter says, the list goes on. This had continued until the whistle blasted again, alerting us of another announcement.
"Everyone come over to the podium, we're having an awards ceremony! Be here in 5 minutes or we start without you, if you aren't already over here!" the voice of the instructor from earlier rang out. Finn and I went over to the podium, where a few boxes labeled 1, 2, and 3 resided.
The ceremony went well, apparently I had gotten third place, Finn got second, and someone who had ran after both of us got first.
After the ceremony, we were each handed a box of differing sizes, the winner got a certificate for a free rifle, Finn got a new 'plate carrier', a thing that was made to hold armor and magazines, and I got a pair of cargo pants.
I walked over to the little station they had set up nearby, got a few measurements taken, then was handed an (admittedly very fancy) pair of pants, clearly set up for humans instead of venlil.
Thankfully, I didn't have to modify them so I could wear them, there was already a little bit of a notch in the top of the beltline that let it comfortably sit just below my tail.
Another announcement came on soon after I got my new pants; "Next event starts in one hour, get some practice in before that, you might need it."
[First] [Previous] [Next (coming soon)]
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's note: This one took a lot longer than the other ones, although it's released in a shorter time frame, how ironic, i guess? I'm considering making a prologue to the story, probably during the exchange program, if I do, it will also help give some more context to Mick that I tried to expand on with this one.
I hope you enjoyed it, expect the next one... eventually.
Oh, and sorry about any walls of text, that was me trying to fill in to hit my self imposed 3000 word count, and also me not knowing how to effectively write "move, shoot, move again" about 20 times in a row.
submitted by berdistehwerd to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Mick's pistol because I want a cover image
Mick reference
Random drawing of Finn
Memory transcription subject: “Mick”, Venlil, Former mechanical engineer, Gunsmith apprentice
Date [Standardized Human Time]: November 17, 2136
We lined up outside of the facility where our first competition would be held. The official rules would have to be explained to us before we started, as is standard for these events. Finn had already given me most of the knowledge I needed, but I still had to listen to the instructor’s words, unless I wanted to do something wrong and be disqualified.
“Alright, is everyone here?” The instructor shouted. “Nobody unaccounted for? Perfect! I see some new faces here today, so I’m going to have to go over the rules again.”
“First up, the basic safety rules must be followed at all times, no exceptions, ever! Understood?”
The line of about 20 competitors all barked out an affirmative in unison, I followed shortly after.
“Good! Good. Second rule, prioritize safety above all else. If you see someone doing something wrong, or dangerous, or outright stupid, point it out to me or one of the other safety guys around. Understood?”
“Yes sir!” The whole line responded.
The instructor’s presence was quite hard to ignore, it seems this man has a history of yelling at people to get points across to their head.
“Good! Alright, third rule. Have fun, don't die.”
“Yes sir!” we all said again.
“If nobody has any questions, we shall begin! Whoever’s first, go to the line, hands on the door, then wait for instructions. I shall follow suit shortly. When you’re done with the course, make your way up to the catwalk, the view’s great from up there, trust me. For now, sit and wait for your turn.”
Finn turned to me and added onto the instructor’s advice. “Hey Mick, don’t expect to be able to sprint through the whole thing like last time, pace yourself, depending on how they set this up, this course could take anywhere from a minute to 10, we won’t know until we’re both done. They don’t want people to cheat, taking it blind is part of the fun with this style of comp.”
Finn looked a little tense, as if the anticipation was getting to him. I knew it was getting to me too, so no wonder it was getting to him. A while ago, I figured out that I didn’t feel things quite the same as most everyone else did. Things that made others incredibly disgusted only made me a little uncomfortable. I didn’t feel loneliness even after days worth of isolation. All of the time I spent was either working or sleeping, I didn’t feel the need for free time, and I liked having a lot of surplus money, so I worked. That was, at least until I found the exchange program. It paid a decent amount of money, so I was compelled to join up. These humans couldn’t be so bad, plus I needed something new to do. Fortunately, I had previously passed empathy tests, albeit barely. It registered enough of an empathetic response for me to pass undetected. I was legally free of predator disease.
Apparently, a few of the earliest exchange partners had a bug where they could share images, and we had that bug, so I got to see the humans' appearance way earlier than most. Bipedal, tall, forward facing eyes, mostly hairless, wearing textiles to replace their lack of hair. That didn’t bother me too much, unsurprising considering my overall lack of intense emotional response that had prompted the earlier PD screenings.
It had been about [30 minutes], about half the competitors had already gone through the course before us. My turn was up next, and Finn was right after me, we were just waiting for the competitor currently in the course to finish.
A bell chimed, signifying that the last guy had made it through, finishing his run. Finn gave me a pat on the back, a sign that I should get ready to get in there.
“Remember to pace yourself, you know, you can’t run through this behemoth in 20 seconds. Slow and steady will win you the race.” Finn advised.
“Alrighty, next competitor!” The instructor bellowed, almost interrupting Finn’s advice. “Minek the Venlil? You ready?”
“As ready as I'll ever be, I guess.” I said, anticipation and nerves high.
I don’t necessarily like talking to people, particularly the ones I don’t know. Another aspect of why I felt like my home was better set on earth, rather than that sunside town where everyone just had to stop and get to know you. I’m not going back, even under the threat of annihilation, like what nearly happened to all of earth’s inhabitants.
“Make ready, put your hands on the door, your run starts once the timer beeps. If the lights turn red, stop your run immediately, make clear, holster your weapon. Understood?”
“Understood.” I replied.
I seated a new magazine into my pistol, racked the slide, holstered it, and placed my hands on the door. Here was my time to shine, I guess.
“Shooter ready? Standby…”
The moment of silence between the announcer’s callout and the timer’s beep felt like a small eternity.
BEEP!
I popped the door open as quickly as I could, took a high-ready stance, and began steadily advancing through the entrance hallway. There was a door on the left, as I entered it, I see a target standing both behind a target and a hostage. I'm forced to take my time lining up the headshot, KRAK, the target fragments into digital fragments. Another target to the right of it, slam a round through its torso. Move on, 2 targets behind a barricade, one no shoot. Take out both targets swiftly, then take a peek around the next corner. At the last moment, I spot a somewhat hidden cranny in the course right after the hallway, on my left. I backpedal, swing the pistol around the corner, and plant a round square through the chest of a target that was hiding within.
Now actually going down the hallway, there’s another hallway on the right, and a T-junction at the very end. The hallway on the right has 2 targets right next to each other, shoot and no-shoot. I take this quickly, they aren’t overlapped or anything special, just next to each other. I nearly missed because I was still moving when I shot, I needed to take more time lining up, no way I could keep getting this lucky. Left side of the junction has a shoot target, the right side has another hallway to the left of it. The rest of the floor was mostly the same, sending rounds through targets and reloading once, much like the rest of the course, right up until the end of the floor.
I rounded a corner partially blocked by a non-target, to see a small shooting gallery within the killhouse, and a door on the opposite side of the entrance. I have to clear the targets before the door will open, as instructed by the label on it. Two small, circular holograms appear before my eyes, roughly in the middle of the room. Two pops later, my magazine has run out. I haven’t even gotten through my (slightly) practiced reload, when another set of targets appear on the left side of the room. The surprise of more targets caused me to fumble slightly, tapping the magazine against the bottom of the grip. I slap the magazine back into its rightful place within my pistol, tap for good measure, drop the slide, pop the targets. The door remains still, so there are more targets to hit, I reckon. They happened to appear right I thought of them, one close and to the left, the other far and to the right. This forces me to swing my aim across the room, and I nearly missed a target again, barely clipping the right edge of the far target.
Too close, me. Too close. I somehow haven’t missed a target yet, and I intend to keep it that way.
The door finally opened, so I made my way through, and made my way up the stairs that followed the door. At the top of the stairs stood a target peeking over. Almost reflexively, I was steadily advancing past the target, without stopping I put the barrel to the target’s face, then fired. 2 rounds remaining in the magazine. The left side had a familiar set of targets similar to the little practice house. A set of closet like rooms, filled with a couple of shoot and no shoot targets. Bang, round the next corner, bang and a clack. Empty, reload, don’t fumble it this time, another target around the corner, bang.
The next few hallways were similar to the rest, a no shoot around a corner, a shoot target sitting opposite that, then I saw something I hadn't seen earlier. A direction marking on the floor, telling me to walk past the door, to a piece of half-height cover leading into an incredibly long (for this type of scenario) hallway. At the end was a hostage type target, held in such a way that you had to either hit the slightly poking out head, or the very exposed leg sitting out to the right of the target.
I take a bracing pose against the left side of the wall, on the corner. It took me a moment to line it up properly, but I sent a round flying through my target’s lower thigh, causing it to stumble out of line with the hostage, the hostage remaining exactly in its position. That’s interesting, I didn’t know the targets were dynamic like that. I had been “killing” them with direct chest or headshots for every shot that I had hit, so I had never gotten a chance to see these targets actually do their dynamic animations before. I’ll have to ask how that works later. I finished the target off with a nice shot to the chest, after it had fallen to the floor, crippled due to its leg injury. The target fragmented as the holographic display was pierced by my round, double confirming that these targets were still projections.
The door to my left had opened with a clunk a moment after I had shot the target for the second time. I preformed more of the same clearing maneuvers and shooting of targets. A pair of these targets happened to line up, almost perfectly for a collateral shot. I took aim against the target further to the rear, my round propelling itself toward the target with its aim true. It took a path where I thought it would destroy both the near and far target with the same shot, however, the bullet only grazed the first hologram, causing it to stumble backward with its dynamic system. Despite not killing the first target, it still smacked against the rear target with a standard killing shot, fragmenting into its hundreds of red shards that I had become accustomed to.
Advancing further into the labyrinth, I swiftly finished off the wounded target that had stumbled backward into a corner. Just to the right of the target, a sign on the wall pointed me downward, telling me to crawl through a claustrophobic, vent-like passage, about [2 feet] tall. I read the sign, dropped to the floor, and slid down through the little hole in the wall. Out the left of the hole, a target stood waiting for whatever round I planned on giving him, out in the open.
I wonder…
I approached the target, pistol held like a little baton. With as much force as I could for good measure, I slapped the target with the pistol.
Whiff
Seems I was wrong. I place my aim onto the target that I had unsuccessfully slapped, fired, then went to move on. Another target was in a little closet behind it, so I spun around to shoot that one too. This killhouse seemed to span for an eternity, and I thought I must be nearing the end of it soon.
Round the corner, no-shoot target, keep going around the U shaped hallway, another no-shoot target in the middle of the hallway. Pass it by, another bend in the wall, with a shoot target just beyond it. I go to fire my weapon, and…
Click.
The slide is open.
That isn’t supposed to happen, I had 3 rounds left in the magazine!
I take a quick inspection of my gun, a casing got stuck in the chamber, and now was blocking up the entire gun’s mechanism. I had been taught what to do in this situation, the malfunction being called a “double feed,” which could occur more frequently if your gun ran older ammunition, which mine did.
I followed the standard jam-clearing procedure for a double feed, which was to first lock the slide to the rear, remove the magazine, drop the slide and rack again to remove the stuck casing, reinsert the magazine, then rack the slide again to seat a new round. With my jam now cleared, I shot the target in front of me in the face, destroying it instantly. Around the corner sat another set of targets, 2 of them I had to shoot.
I get my aim steady on the first, fire, target destroyed. The slide locked back, alerting me to my state of being out of ammo. I reach for another fresh magazine, and come back empty handed.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
I was completely out of ammo, and making good time up until now.
Melee won’t work, I had just figured that out, I'm out of magazines so I can’t reload even if I needed to, which I certainly did.
AHA!
I had accidentally let the stuck round fall out with the magazine while I was removing it from the gun, so now it was sitting on the floor. I dive over to it, grab the lonesome round off the floor, and carefully insert the round into the chamber of my pistol. This was a technique that you weren’t exactly supposed to do often, as it wears out the extractor much faster, leading to more frequent issues if it’s done too often. I drop the slide, letting the final round I had to my name seat itself within the chamber, ready to fire.
BANG.
The target shattered, the door on my left clunking open to reveal the light of day, and a catwalk to a platform above the range. I walk out, and hear another voice call out.
“Show clear, then holster your weapon. Your time is…187.87 seconds, nice work in there. If you want, go watch from above from that catwalk, the next run’s boutta to start.”
I walked up the stairs, legs quite a bit more fatigued than I expected them to be, although I had just been speed-walking for 3 minutes straight, and my heart was beating faster than I expected, probably due to that moment of panic after having my gun just jam up on me, compounded by the fact that I totally ran out of ammo. I reached the top, took a seat in a nice spot near the edge of the small congregation of other competitors, waiting for Finn to come waltzing through the course. There was a display on the top of the roof, showing us an overlay of the first floor, which would also show us the second floor once the competitor got to the staircase.
A few minutes passed, and I wasn't paying attention to Finn's run, since a few people had asked for me to take pictures with them, which I reluctantly agreed to. I could barely hear it, but the end timer from earlier had spoke up again; “show clear, holster your weapon. Your time is… 178.92, fastest time yet, good stuff.”
I broke away from the group who were trying to ask me questions to meet my friend at the top of the stairs, who acknowledged my completion with a firm ‘high five’, a human gesture I had been taught over my time with him.
“Phew, nice little course, huh Mick?” Finn offered.
“Yea… It was fun, albeit tiring.” I responded, with a tail wag
“I’d bet, worse stamina especially. Anyway, how’d ya do?”
“Slightly worse than you, 187 seconds.”
Wow! Nice, uhm, that’s actually really impressive for someone who’s never done this kinda thing before, how’d ya manage that?”
“Might be because I only ever had to hit the targets once, except for that really long range one, with the hostage?”
“Yea I know the one, tricky bastard to hit without clipping the hostage.”
“Did you know those targets are reactive? Actually yea, you probably do because you volunteer here, right?”
“Yep, I'm guessing that’s how you figured out they are? Shot em’ in the leg so he’d stumble? That’s the easiest way to do it, i reckon, but just moving to the right edge to line up an easier headshot is the more advantageous way to do it.”
“Yea that’s what I figured out. Oh, after that there was one kinda standing out in a hallway that I tried to hit with my pistol, didn’t do anything but since that one actually fell over earlier I was wondering if I could save the ammo, why didn’t hitting it work?”
“If you were actually in a situation where you were running around a big ol’ building trying to murder combatants inside to rescue hostages, do you think you would have the ability to whack someone in the face hard enough to outright kill them instantly? No, no you probably wouldn’t. The target impact system only tracks bullets anyway, punches or strikes don’t move fast enough to register on the system.”
“Oh, interesting. Say, how do the holograms work?”
“No clue, all I know is it has something to do with laser projectors and some weird illusions, then it has motion detectors tuned to a specific zone in space for tracking hits, quite interesting stuff if I do say so myself, even if I don't know how it works.”
“Yea, it is,” I said, not exactly registering what was said, “anyway, I think we should go figure out what the next event is, I don’t want to go into it blind like I would have if you hadn’t made me try the little version first.”
“Alright, follow me then.” Finn said, then began walking down the catwalk, leading me to our next event of the day, which I had been informed was a “long range vintage” event.
We made our way back over to the range we were at before, now situated with targets much further out than the aim trainer I had been using earlier. There were large signs, telling me distance next to little plates with concentric rings around a point in the middle. Finn walked back over to his car, pulled out a rifle box, and came back over to me.
"Ah, the wonders of long range shooting! You ready to learn about physics?" Finn exclaimed, clearly excited.
"No, not really, why do you ask?"
"Long range shooting, and especially extreme range shooting need a lot of little physics calculations for you to actually be able to hit the target from so far away. Bullets are little more than projectiles thrown at high velocity, but there's still things like gravity, wind, and sometimes even the fuckin' Coriolis effect to worry about while your round is flying!"
"Wait, you have to worry about the rotation of the planet while shooting long range? That's insane!"
"I know, right? that's why I love this stuff!"
The next [20 or 30 minutes] were taken up by a lengthy explanation of how a bullet flies, how a spotter and shooter system functions, how a spotter scope works, how to interpret what the spotter says, the list goes on. This had continued until the whistle blasted again, alerting us of another announcement.
"Everyone come over to the podium, we're having an awards ceremony! Be here in 5 minutes or we start without you, if you aren't already over here!" the voice of the instructor from earlier rang out. Finn and I went over to the podium, where a few boxes labeled 1, 2, and 3 resided.
The ceremony went well, apparently I had gotten third place, Finn got second, and someone who had ran after both of us got first.
After the ceremony, we were each handed a box of differing sizes, the winner got a certificate for a free rifle, Finn got a new 'plate carrier', a thing that was made to hold armor and magazines, and I got a pair of cargo pants.
I walked over to the little station they had set up nearby, got a few measurements taken, then was handed an (admittedly very fancy) pair of pants, clearly set up for humans instead of venlil.
Thankfully, I didn't have to modify them so I could wear them, there was already a little bit of a notch in the top of the beltline that let it comfortably sit just below my tail.
Another announcement came on soon after I got my new pants; "Next event starts in one hour, get some practice in before that, you might need it."
[First] [Previous] [Next (coming soon)]
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's note: This one took a lot longer than the other ones, although it's released in a shorter time frame, how ironic, i guess? I'm considering making a prologue to the story, probably during the exchange program, if I do, it will also help give some more context to Mick that I tried to expand on with this one.
I hope you enjoyed it, expect the next one... eventually.
Oh, and sorry about any walls of text, that was me trying to fill in to hit my self imposed 3000 word count, and also me not knowing how to effectively write "move, shoot, move again" about 20 times in a row.