A figure sat slumped in its chair, its mask lopsided and half-off, presumably asleep. The screens around it flickered with static, many having deactivated themselves. After another hour, all but one had went silent, saving power that was unnecessary to save. The only screen still on after all this time had an image of a single white shape, that could be described as almond shaped with a concave area along the bottom outlining a half-circle. In fact, the shape mimicked the sclera of an eye looking downward. The shape then began to smoosh, until it couldn't be seen, then, after a few seconds, fattening back to its original shape. Suddenly, the room tilts back, the rear wall folds away into the floor and ceiling, and the chair rolls into the new room, dumping its occupant onto the bed. The screens tilt, and move to reveal an opening in the wall, from which springs a mechanical hand connected to a nearly infinite arm with many, many joints. The hand grabs the chair as the rooms de-tilt, and drags it back to the command room before the wall closes back up.
"We are what we repeatedly do; Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit." -Aristotle
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Snippets of the Multiverse
General FictionA collection of various short stories, poems, and the like. Updated whenever I feel like writing something that doesn't have anything to do with my main stories. I'll try to update on holidays though. (May also contain sneak-peeks of bits of story t...
