Story idea:

A boy is bringing his girlfriend home after a date when he starts to feel uneasy and passes by her house without slowing down. The girlfriend asks him, “what’s wrong?” He replies, “Something doesn’t feel right.” He brings her back home and has her hide in his basement, covering the trapdoor with a rug. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but something doesn’t feel right. He just doesn’t know yet.

A new leader has been elected to rule over the land. In this land, aliens and normal people have lived together in harmony. But this leader (who is normal) fears the aliens. They threaten his rise to power, and they could potentially stop him because they have an exponentially greater intelligence. Most of the aliens had also seen through his facade that the other beings had bought, and they had chosen to vote for the other candidate. In secret, he has his soldiers raid their homes. Every alien is registered in a database along with their addresses. It doesn’t take long to round all of them up. Except one—and this is one of the people he fears most—the former alien princess. A girl named _. She has been living a normal life in a very normal home along with her family. The alien royals are the people he fears the most for their intelligence—and their special power: their voices. Alien royalty can hypnotize with a special vocal frequency. All it takes is one royal to turn the entire population against him. Not that that matters anymore. The aliens have all been taken captive and taken to a prison camp—one specially designed to hold these aliens. But now, to find the princess before she could cause any problems.

The princess just so happens to be the boy’s girlfriend, and his intuition—and the fact that he’s a norm—is what saved her from being taken. He doesn’t know that she is alien royalty. The aliens are extremely human-like, the key difference being their high intellect. They found it easy to blend in with the earthlings when they came desiring peace. It has been almost 100 years since the aliens arrived, and they have intermarried and had children with norms. No one thinks anything of it—except for a small group of protestors that want the aliens to return to their home planet.

A soldier walks up to the boy’s house a couple days after the date and knocks on the door. Though being cooped up is never any fun, his girlfriend had agreed to trust her boyfriend’s intuition and remain hidden. She was in the basement, and he was preparing scrambled eggs when he heard the knock on the door.

He turns down the heat and removes the skillet from the stove before answering the door. “Yes? Can I help you?” “We’re looking for this person (shows a picture of girlfriend). She’s gone missing, and we fear she may have been kidnapped.” “What does that have to do with me?” “Well, her parents tell us that you’re her boyfriend and that you were the last one to see her.” He doesn’t trust something about this soldier and replies, “I haven’t seen her since I brought her home on Thursday. We went on a date together.” “Ah, I see. Then you won’t mind if I search your house, will you?” Refusal will show his guilt. Without hesitation, he moves aside. “Please, come in. I have nothing to hide.”

“Your girlfriend is part of a dangerous group of people: the aliens.” “What?” “Yes. There have been rumors trickling of an alien revolt against our new leader, and now, one of them has gone missing.” “How do you know how many aliens are out there?” “That’s classified. But know that these aliens are wicked. They have no capacity to love, and they will betray the earthlings, especially those closest to them. If you have any idea where your girlfriend might be, please tell us. It will be of great importance to our investigation.” “I’ve told you all I know.” The soldier finishes his search. He didn’t bother to check under the rug, much to the boy’s relief. He doesn’t dare glance over at it. “I hope you find her.” “Thank you.” Gives boy a card. “Here’s my number. Call this if you have any insight you might be able to give us.” He nods as the man leaves. His heart begins to pound. What if he’s being watched? What if his house is bugged? The biggest thing he knows is that his girlfriend is no longer safe in his house. They have to leave and try to hide. He doesn’t dare say a word in case the man left bugged devices and throws the card in the trash. He finishes making breakfast in order to appear normal. Then he heads to the dining table with a plate of food.

How long will their freedom last?

In the midst of the night a ninja bear sneaked past the shadow guards that stood at the doors of the throneroom. The vast room held only the seat of the Queen and prisons at the walls. He approached the sleeping Queen on all fours, and went behind her, to get a piece of her hair.

At the slightest movement of her hair, Shadow Queen whirled around and grabbed the man in black by the wrist, with a hard grip. He wore nothing to indicate who he was and she unveiled his mask. She didn’t recognize him, weird. Stunned, the man dropped his knife.

As the Shadow Queen was busy killing the clone, the ninja bear cut a snippet of her hair with his claw and put it in a bag and stuffed it in his belly pack (like a backpack). The ninja bear then escaped.

When she feels her one of the lockets of her golden brown hair that is unusually longer than the rest get cut, she hissed. Her black eyes looked around and saw no one. Suddenly the doors to the corridor slammed open in a hurried escape.

He ninja bear ran on all fours, running like his life depended on it. For it did. All of his previous training had led to what was most important. His escape. He turned a corner and ducked into a secret passage in the castle wall.

Shadow Queen, furious, summoned her guards. The shadows ross up behind her like great pillars of fear. She sent them after the hair thief, faster than any human could travel on feet and limb.

He knew that if he didn’t get out of these blasted corridors, out of this dammed castle, he would die. He could hear the the humming of the shadow guards speeding at incomprehensible velocities in the corridor. Adrenaline pumping he ran as fast as his four paws could take him.

As the shadows grew in speed the humming became a deafeningly loud, like static electricity from a thunderstorm. As the shadow guard passed through the corridors and tunnels, the air and light was manipulated.

The bear’s ears popped and he stumbled to the ground covering his ears with his paws. He reached into his belly pack and took out his earplugs. He shoved them in his ears, got up and continued to run. They didn’t stop the sound from reaching his ears but he could manage. Almost there. So close.

The Queen followed her shadows, their sound having no effect on her ears. The shadows led her through the corridor than into a tunnel. She followed the paw prints in the murky darkness. The sound of her treasured shadow guard grew louder. Everyone was closing in on one another.

The ninja bear could see the sunlight that shone through holes in the black gate. It was morning already? He reached it and tried to pry it open but it would not budge. He relented after a minute and stood there calmly. He backed away and faced the corridors, awaiting the terrifying Queen.

The Queen finally reached the courtyard, stepping out of the tunnel. She pushed her way through her shadows and saw the perpetrator. She drew out a knife from her thigh, her cloak maoved back exposing her pale, blood stained flesh. She slowly approached the bear, her multi-colored eyes narrowed at it.

He watches her approach and as she is about to grab him, he transformed into a bird. He quickly flew through a hole in the gate and transformed into his human form. He stared at the Queen, dodged her stab at him, and then he showed her the bag with the lock of hair.

“Goodbye, my Queen.”

He smiled and ran away into the forest.

Shadow Queen infuriated, screamed loudly. It bounced down the corridors like a ball. The shadows rattled behind her when she slams her staff into the ground, making the whole structure shake. That was it. She went back to her throne and prepared and waited for the next thief that would try to come to her.

(This story was made by Shadow Queen and Icarus.😌)

In the year 2050, the world had transformed in ways that no one could have predicted. Technology had advanced at an astonishing pace, and society had shifted accordingly. Yet, amidst all the futuristic marvels, one highly coveted item remained oddly familiar: a simple, physical book.

In this digital age, where neural implants allowed instant access to the vast expanse of human knowledge, the allure of a tangible book had become an obsession for collectors and enthusiasts. Paper, ink, and the scent of aged pages had become a symbol of nostalgia and rebellion against the relentless march of progress.

Jane, a passionate bibliophile, spent her days scouring the remnants of old bookstores in search of these relics. She cherished the tactile experience of holding a book, flipping its pages, and savoring the anticipation as she approached the end. Her small apartment was a sanctuary of dusty tomes, each carefully preserved.

One day, she stumbled upon a rumor about a hidden library deep in the heart of the city, a place rumored to contain the most extensive collection of physical books in existence. Whispers about its location circulated among a clandestine group of book lovers, who referred to themselves as "The Page Keepers."

Determined to find this treasure trove, Jane embarked on a perilous journey. The city was now a gleaming metropolis, dominated by holographic billboards and AI-driven transport systems. But hidden beneath the polished veneer, there were forgotten corners where the past clung tenaciously to existence.

Following cryptic clues, Jane navigated a labyrinth of underground tunnels and secret passages. She encountered others who shared her quest—fellow seekers of printed wisdom, each with their own unique stories and motivations.

Eventually, they reached the library's hidden entrance, concealed beneath a long-abandoned subway station. Pushing open the heavy, rusted door, Jane and her newfound comrades stepped into a world frozen in time. Row upon row of dusty shelves filled with books stretched out before them, their spines cracked and yellowed with age.

As Jane ran her fingers along the worn spines, she couldn't help but marvel at how something so ordinary in her time had become a relic of immense value in this future world. The physical books represented more than just stories; they embodied a longing for simplicity, a yearning for the tactile, and a connection to a bygone era.

In the midst of these ancient tomes, Jane realized that while the world had raced forward into an age of digital wonders, there would always be those who treasured the past. The coveted item of her time had become a bridge between two worlds, a reminder that even in the future, some things would never lose their timeless charm.

Elena joined her parents in their small apartment for the reading of Great- Great- Great grandpa Tom’s will. She had enjoyed corresponding with him in secret codes. Now that he was gone, it was unlikely she would ever need to write in code ever again.

She didn’t expect to even be mentioned in the will. He’d had 3 living children, 8 grand children, 17 great grandchildren, 25 great great grandchildren and she was one of 22 great great great grandchildren. With all the medical advances and space colonies, people were living longer each generation. He had more credits than she could imagine, but had been limited to the 1000 grams of physical possessions just like everyone else.

… to be continued

Jant walks into the antique store in the hopes he would finally find it: the perfect anniversary gift. Their relationship was one based on tradition. They were some of the few couples who insisted in having a marriage ceremony, they still entertained themselves with a flat screen tv, and played the almost century-old game of banana grams.

And this anniversary was special. Jant hadn’t been home much lately and by the time they actually saw each other they were too tired to do much, same old same old. So tonight needed to be perfect.

“Hi, I’m looking for a musical device. I believe it was a favourite in parties decades ago. You would load it with songs and then chose your favourite… I think it was called a Jukebox?”

The shopkeeper didn’t move or said anything, she just stared into him with though it didn’t seem like she was seeing anything. “Hmm…” She finally grunted, “I think I might have what you’re looking for.” She then disappeared behind a curtain into the back room, and Jant could just about make out her figure shuffling through the shelves. She finally resurfaced holding a small box with some headphones attached. “Is this what you were looking for?” She handed him the device which had a detachable case with a plastic film in it. When Jant hit play the film started turning but he couldn’t hear anything.

“No, this doesn’t feel right, I believe the Jukebox is smaller and didn’t have these many buttons. It had an apple on the back.”

The woman looked annoyed, now, but she did not despair and went back to rummage through the disorganised shelves. At that point she had forgotten what little device was what, and why would anyone want a piece of scrap like that anyway. ‘It’s not like there aren’t great music players now,’ she thought.

“A-ha!” Jant finally heard the shopkeeper say. “Did you find it?” Jant asked in anticipation. “I believe so”. She walked back to the counter and handed him a small flat device with a white wheel and a tiny screen. He’s smile kept getting bigger and his eyes wider as he stared in awe: “This is exactly it! Thank you!”

“If you don’t mind me asking… Why a jukebox?” Asked the shopkeeper tentatively as she was wrapping up the jukebox in paper mache.

“Well, it’s for my partner... We’ve not been in sync lately, so I want to get them a nice thing to celebrate our anniversary. When we started goingCher they kept talking about how their great grandma had a Jukebox, and she loved it, my partner told me how she had all her favourite songs there and she would dance around the house listening to it. The jukebox past on to her granny and then to her mom, but by the time it got to them it was damaged and didn’t last long. I’m hoping this will cheer them up and help them feel like they’re still connected to their great grandma. I’ve been to ten stores trying to find a functioning one…”

The shopkeeper finally smirked, it was the closer he’d get to a smile. “I hope your partner enjoys it” she said as she handed him the bag. “That’ll be $400.”

“How long do we have?” Her voice was stuttering, as another swift snowy burst exploded through the barren frozen oasis.

“Only about half an hour….” He stopped, looking down at the silver cylinder that meant life for just a bit longer. “If we don’t make it to the opening by then we are dead” It came out of his mouth as cold as the hours walk had been from the drop zone .

Normally they gave them more then two canisters. Usually about six we’re strapped to the air drop. Well sky drop was a more accurate description. Alpha One. The city amongst the clouds, was humanity’s finial frontier.

Heating had turned the earth into another ice age. On the ground there were small underground bunkers, fit with heat and oxygen…. But in the frozen land…. Oxygen was gone….

“Can we make it?” Her voice quivered a bit more.

Then he started doing the math. Twenty minutes at least. With both of them, breathing normally. Pulling the runner in full throttle…. They would make it…. Maybe.

“I need you to take the bottle. Keep it on full throttle…. Don’t stop for anything…” He looked into her green eyes as reality came over her.

“No I won’t leave you out here” She protested, slapping her hand sternly onto the center of his pressure suit.

“You don’t have a choice…. Or we both die… and nobody back home gets these supplies…” He smiled to himself, grabbing the two smaller nearly empty tanks off the back of the scav.

A truck that had been fitted with tank rollers to easily traverse the ground. Sasha had been a genius when it came to that sort of thing.

“She’ll never forgive me…”

“Sasha will understand…. It was that or we both die….” Unflinching, he gave her a quick embrace.

Watching the heartbreaking look in her eyes. A mix of sorrow and disbelief, but her older sister would understand. She wasn’t even supposed to be out here, it had been a last minute decision.

His usual partner had gotten sick off of some bad shine he’d whipped up. Old man Lopez, it had been a good time for sure.

“Tell her and Max I love them”

“Please don’t do this…” Tears we’re starting to flow, but he looked her hard in the face.

“Pay attention. You can’t slow down at all. If your tank gets below 12%. Just cut the rope and go back for it. No use dying and not getting the supplies at all…..” He gave her a pat at the top of her helmet. “Look at me. You can do this. I’m proud of you and I’m happy to know you will make it back.”

“I don’t know…” She sobbed.

“Don’t be sad for me. I am going to go out using all I have left to give to provide for the settlement and the family.” He gave her a big smile, nearly fogging up his helmet as he swapped to the first small tank. “Straighten up little soldier, your sisters gonna need you”

Without another word he stepped back off the bed of the truck. Falling back into the snow covered ice.

In a second he was out of sight, lost within the distance.

“Get him on the ground!” The two larger suits grabbed the disheveled man by each arm and shoved him forward. He fell to the pavement with ease. The third suit stepped over to the man’s side and proceeded to get down on one knee. He slowly brought his face to the man’s ear. “You know you’re fucked. We know you’ve got one.” “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” “Oh you don’t?” The third suit, the one in charge, turned back and nodded his head towards the roughed up man on the ground. “Okay.” One of the two kneed him in the spine and brought intense pressure to the back of his neck while the other one frisked him up and down until he stopped inside his left jacket pocket. He pulled out the object, a small rectangular piece about the size of an old flash drive but slightly wider. He tossed it over to his boss. “Then what’s this?” The man in charge brought the item to his lips and slowly inhaled, a bit of an awkward smile made itself visible. He shivered ever so slightly then exhaled the vapor into the air of the night. “It’s peach flavored, boys.”

In the year 2050, toasters and beef jerky had become the most sought-after items in the post-apocalyptic world. As strange as it may sound, these two everyday objects had become rare commodities, unlike anything we could have predicted.

It all started when a brilliant yet eccentric scientist named Dr. Fizzlepop accidentally discovered that toasters possessed hidden teleportation technology. Yes, you read that right—teleportation! When you popped a slice of bread into the toaster, it didn't just toast it, but bam! It teleported it to another dimension and back, creating the perfect piece of toast every single time.

Word about Dr. Fizzlepop's invention quickly spread, and soon enough, toasters became the hottest item on the black market. People would do anything to get their hands on one. Toast was no longer just a breakfast staple; it became a symbol of power, wealth, and gastronomic pleasure. Toast parties replaced cocktail parties, and celebrities flaunted their customized toasters encrusted with diamonds and gold.

But that's not all. Enter the beef jerky craze. In a world where fresh food was scarce, preserved meat was a luxury beyond measure. And beef jerky became the king of preserved meats. Its chewy texture and smoky flavors had people hooked, and it became the ultimate status symbol.

As toasters and beef jerky gained unprecedented popularity, rival factions emerged, each vying for control over the supply. Toast gangs would challenge each other in epic toasting battles, while jerky enthusiasts formed jerky cartels, hoarding and trading their dried treasures.

Amidst this madness, our unlikely hero, Tim the Toaster Salesman, found himself caught in the middle of all the toaster and beef jerky chaos. Tim had never imagined that his mundane job selling toasters would land him in such an absurd situation. But there he was, dodging flying slices of toast and negotiating with jerky smugglers like a comedic version of James Bond.

Against all odds, Tim managed to keep his sense of humor intact. He stumbled upon the secret alliance between the Toast Lords and the Jerky Bandits, who were secretly working together to create a utopian breakfast experience for all. Together, they hatched a plan to end the toaster and beef jerky obsession and restore sanity to the world.

In a grand finale, the Toast Lords and Jerky Bandits organized the biggest breakfast buffet ever seen, featuring an assortment of delectable fresh food. People from all corners of the post-apocalyptic world gathered, hungry for a change. And as they relished in the joy of fresh eggs, crispy bacon, and juicy fruits, the allure of toasters and beef jerky slowly faded away.

From that day forward, toasters regained their rightful place as ordinary kitchen appliances, and beef jerky became just another tasty snack. The world once again recognized the importance of real food over materialistic obsessions.

And so, our hero Tim went back to his humble life as a simple toaster salesman, forever grateful for the hilarious and absurd adventure that had unfolded in the future where toasters and beef jerky ruled the world.

No one knew what to make of the carefully arranged colors applied to the wall in the Institution’s common area. A crowd of students had gathered around it, but no one had yet summoned the courage to get close. I walked carefully past the silent witnesses. Each person was dressed as I was- in our institute-issued gray. Without prompting, they moved aside to allow me a better look. As I did, every pair of eyes settled on me. What did they think I would do? I stopped when I was close enough to touch the “thing,” but I did not touch. I quickly categorized the colors: indigo, moss green, violet, varying shades of white. Yellow. But it wasn’t the colors that drew us in. We were used to colors— we were trained to utilize them to regulate and correct our emotions. This had the opposite effect… something tightened in my chest, and I started to perspire. I found it hard to swallow, and was mystified by the dampness in my eyes. I let my gaze settle on the blue swirls and hoped to be calmed by the peaceful hue, but I was not. Moving my face closer, I saw something that astonished me, the colors showed streaks, marks made by a brush of some kind. These colors were not projected, they were painted. This was done by a human— not a bot. This is what everyone had realized, and indeed, what they witnessed me realizing. Something stirred in me again, what was this emotion I was feeling? I turned to a student to my left and locked eyes with them. Their lips slowly turned up at the corner, and a light came on in their eyes. They felt it too.

“When will it end? Yet another drug-related theft from a single mother, a 47-year-old woman, was sentenced to fifty years in prison after she stole hundreds of dollars worth of baby formula.” The reporter says.

The screen changes to a sobbing woman, ”I stole for my baby! Please, just give her back!”

The screen returns to the reporter, who shakes her head in disgust.

“Monstrous, using he-“

“Nora, turn off the holo-screen and play my relaxation playlist,” Trent tells Nora, the universal AI assistant required in every home, whether one likes it or not.

If you didn’t agree to their terms and services, you couldn’t access the internet, which meant exile. Legally, they couldn’t exile you but disagreeing leads one to become a defuncter, someone who is uneducated and can’t vote. On paper, they just refused to get an upgradeable ID, and it wasn’t real discrimination, just a way of the 23rd century.

Trent’s a reporter, one you might see on the news, who captures you with his friendly smile. Most of his reports were about puppy adoption events, and yes, who doesn’t love puppies but Trent desires to talk about more serious matters. However, every serious story he requests is rejected by the AI network. The story he’s working on now is too good for him to quit. There’s but one snag, as the key to this story has yet to send him a holo message back.

Trent tries not to think about it, but time is running out. If he doesn’t get this key piece, then it’s back to playing with puppies for the entirety of his career. He sits on the couch in his small apartment, where the open floor plan gives no illusion of space. The apartment is filled with the sounds of smooth jazz as Trent closes his eyes. He lets his mind drift away to happier thoughts, like his favorite dessert. A sweet potato pie that tastes extra sweet, a creation that seemed only his mom could make.

“Would you like to put on your VR glasses for full immersion? I recommend the vintage New Orleans jazz club setting.”

“No, I’m okay, Nora. I think I’ll take a dehydrated water tablet, though. I’m parched.”

His kitchen cabinets beep as a scan is done to check the amount of tablets he has left. Soon a ping of success is heard throughout the room, mixing with the smooth jazz already playing.

“You are low on dehydrated water tablets. Would you like to restock?”

“Yes,” he says, making his way over to the cabinets.

Once there, he grabs a tablet and puts it in his mouth. These days, a dehydrated water tablet is the only way to drink clean water. Centuries ago, only the privileged had clean water, something they took for granted as minorities and low-income neighborhoods dealt with the effects of the reality that the more privileged didn’t care much if they lived or died. Once it started affecting them, however, things changed as outrage spread. Slowly, laws were made to fix things but it was already too late. Clean water became a story the elders told their grandkids. In the past, people once swam in water but if you dare try now, don’t be shocked about any infections you acquire later.

Hydrated. He heads back to his couch, lying down this time to stare at the ceiling. Nora checks on him after five minutes of inactivity. He tells her he’s fine but five minutes later she does the same thing but this time she states, “Sorry, I don’t understand the question.”

“Nora, can you go into hibernation mode?”

“Hibernation mode was deleted after the last system update. I’m sorry. Would you like to restock on razors?”

“No.”

Suddenly, an alert showcases, on his supposedly off, holo-screen. An alert indicating a new holo-mail. Relieved, he tells Nora to open up his holo-mail, which she obliges. It’s the holo-mail he’s been waiting for! Nora automatically plays the message.

“Hello, you inquired about my collection of books written by humans. As you know, I prefer to keep my collection private because of its rarity. A rarity that I and a few other elites have access to. However, considering the flattering piece you approached me with, I will allow you to view my collection.”

Trent pumps his fist up in victory. He was going to view an item that any ordinary person would think of as a myth—a book written by an actual person! Most books today were all written by AI, and if you had enough money, you could request specific plots and characters you wanted, but usually, big corporations sent cease and desist letters because any AI creation was their own personal intellectual property. In the past, books written by people were banned, as there was fear they might incite violence or corrode people's brains into thinking things were unfair.

He tells Nora to reply and makes his way to his destination. The man was shocked to see him at first, even though he had sent a message saying he was coming over. He explains his time limit as he and the man walk into the man’s library. The man allows him to look but not touch.

When the man isn’t looking, he slips a book under his jacket. He hopes the man’s AI security systems don’t expose him. He manages to get through, making it out the door. After a short train ride, he walks carefully, every movement he makes, his hand stays on his stomach to protect his precious cargo. When he gets home, he goes to the most secure area in his apartment and pulls the book from under his jacket. Admiration fills him. It looked new, perfectly preserved in that old man’s storage house.

He flips through the pages. The words already feel alive, unlike the books he’s used to. Finally, he goes back to the beginning of the book and reads.