The Machine

My brain’s wired to the machine, and instantly I’m everywhere. Every house in every town, in every nation of the globe I’m present, flickering through settings and possibilities, witnessing seven billion human stories, all in the blink of an eye.

For one brief moment, I’m God. I know all.

My mind reels and, as quickly as it begins, it lurches toward it’s end. My brain, unable to process the volume of experience, cracks, shatters, and is gone. Technicians decouple my now vegetative husk from the machine and wheel it from the room.

They make modifications, and call in another volunteer.

I Believe in Science

As the Sorcerer strides through downtown chaos bursts forth. Cars explode, trees melt, birds speak. Dragons pour forth from beneath the earth, circling above his head.

People are trampled in their rush to escape, but the Sorcerer pays no heed, too lost is he in the chaos his majik hath wrought.

He throws back his head and, drunk with power, laughs.

Across town, I’m alone. Alone and nervous. Nervous and afraid for my life.

Afraid for my life, and hastily strapping myself into my newest Battlemech.

I believe in myself.

I believe in science.

The time has come for action.

Puppy in a Shark Tank

She tossed the puppy into the shark tank.

My stomach turned. I have villainous moments, I’d never deny that , but this was crossing a line. Killing puppies, for what seemed like no reason at all, was just wrong, and I couldn’t abide.

Vertigo came over me, I nearly threw up. But when I opened my mouth to protest she pointed back behind me.

The shark was dead at the bottom of the tank, and the puppy yapping in pleasure.

“I’ve bio-enhanced my puppy into the perfect killing machine!”

I made love to her then, next to the shark tank.

Fear

I can taste your fear.

I feel it pouring off you in waves, and I hunger for it. It’s what I came here for, why I do what I do. For your fear. Thick, black and salty, I know I must have it.

I will have it.

I drink it in, wave after wave, and it’s delicious. Your terror gives me life, gives me reason, and I take all you have, leaving you empty, a shell, drained of that which once seemed so important to you.

And so nourished I depart, and you go forward into the world, reborn.

Fearless.

At the Nursing Home

The nursing home lobby was completely empty.

No nurses scuttled around, no seniors played chess, there wasn’t even a secretary behind the huge, entrance facing desk. No soul to be seen.

The effect was eerie, it wasn’t late enough to justify the place being so abandoned. I admit, I was tempted to go, but I’d come to visit Grandpa.

Visit him I would.

As I wandered deeper into the complex, I heard the front door swinging shut behind me, the deadbolt falling.

Well played, Grandpa. Well played.

Clutching my axe closer to my chest, swallowing my fear, I pushed forward.

My Biography

My name is Christopher Munroe, and I am a human being.

I was born in Edmonton, grew up in Calgary, and have spent the past 8 years doing a mixture of Dinner Theatre and writing, financing myself with work as a waiter.

I’m both biologically human and deeply connected to communities made up of other humans, and I’ve never said or done anything to cause you to doubt my underlying, fundamental humanity.

And if a man in a charcoal suit and black leather gloves asks about me, you will tell him all of this.

Tell him this and nothing more.

The Man Who Murders Me...

…will be tried for vehicular manslaughter, and acquitted.

However, stress from the trial will end his marriage and career. Family and friends will never look at him the same. Murdering me will destroy his life, utterly.

But he knows none of this right now. Right now he’s driving home from a bachelor party. He’s slightly drunk, but confident he’s cool to drive.

Meanwhile, I’m walking home. I know I’ve had too much to drink, and I’m not driving. Behind the wheel, in the state I’m in, I could kill somebody!

I stumble across the street, forgetting to look both ways…