Equinox

Drive carefully, don’t go too fast and above all do not drink over the limit, this was good advice if you obeyed it. It kept you safe and free from harm and best of all it even protected other people; Alastair Fenton however, 'didn’t care', not about the fact he had a drink problem nor the fact he was a murderer. It had happened two years ago, he had gotten drunk at the office party and decided to risk taking the car home believing himself to still be in control of his motoring skills. People begged him not too but he was the boss and who were they to tell him what to do?!? She hadn’t even seen him, and he being too drunk to stop, had not seen her until it was too late. She had landed with her skull damaged (on the road) and had spent two years in a coma. He had been found guilty by eyewitnesses in the area, however his lawyer, the sort of chap employed by companies like this, had got him off and so he was free to kill again. This time he would probably do just that. He had been invited to a party where he hoped to do business with some of the top businessmen in the City, the kind that didn’t care about his past. There was something special about today he told himself as he drove to the house of the hostess named Louise; she greeted him with a kiss and led him inside. “I’m pleased you could make it Alastair, there’s still time before the clock strikes midnight”; "I've got to be home by 2, what’s so special about midnight?”; "The coming of light and darkness when good and evil are both equal"; "I see, well let’s hope it doesn’t upset any deals!". Alastair spent most of the evening chatting to a man who worked as a financial consultant for a large company and even managed to clinch the deal. At 11:30 he said “goodbye", his breath smelt of drink; the man had offered to order a taxi but Alastair said he was alright, “besides", he said, "I don’t live far”. “Yeah, well be careful, this is the Equinox!” said the man sounding like a doom warning. Alastair put this down to the fact the man was probably more drunk than him. For some reason images of the young woman came flooding back into his mind as he got into his car and began to drive off. The 'Equinox', why was this on his mind? He couldn’t keep awake because of the drink. He wished now he had taken the taxi. Then it happened, his car skidded out of control and began to run down a huge ditch. Overturning as it did so. He looked around; he was outside his car, somehow he had gotten out. “Oh Sir, please excuse me”. He turned to see a man in a white suit with greyish hair apparently in his fifties with a tall thin stature standing beside him. “Do forgive me I came as quickly as I could, the other side wanted to send one of their people but I was most insistent, this is your car I take it?"; “Yes, why, can you fix it?”; "Oh no Sir, this is the Equinox, besides I am not here to give physical assistance my purpose is to give moral support as God intended”. Oh great, thought Alastair, a religious extremist. Still, he might be useful: “Look, do you have a mobile phone I could use?"; “I’m terribly sorry I have no means of communication saith for that of which I am telepathically connected and besides I do believe you no longer have any need of such assistance"; “Listen I have to get home, i’ve an important meeting tomorrow at my company, now if you cannot help me I suggest you find someone who can!"; "Oh I’m afraid no one can help you, you see today is the Equinox, the time when good and evil are equally balanced and no side has jurisdiction over the other. You see Sir I’m an angel, when your car crashed into the ditch and overturned it was blown up by a petrol leakage, you were killed instantly". “Wait a minute what are you on about I can see my car right there"; “No Sir that’s the time spiritual remains what we call the ghosts of the past used to perceive judgement upon those about to enter or be dismissed, however usually it disperses but this is the Equinox and so we cannot interfere in any way with what has taken place, although neither can the other side. That young woman she died in the hospital I believe; the one you ran down whilst under alcoholic influence, I believe she died in the hospital after a brief recovery, I believe her parents and her boyfriend, who she was to wed, were most distressed". "I’ve had enough of this!” exclaimed Alastair, making his way past the man, however, something invisible like a force field seemed to be blocking his path. He tried the other way, same thing, in fact he seemed to be surrounded; “What’s going on?”; “I’ve already explained, darkness and light are balanced so you cannot be judged”. “........So I’m not going to Hell”; "No Sir, you would have, and the other side tried all manner of legal techniques having quite a few lawyers you understand, however we insisted the rules be kept as intended by us and their side”. "So I’m safe" said Alastair, a feeling of relief engulfing him despite what had already taken place. "Well not exactly", exclaimed the man in regrettable yet justified tones. “You see when the car blew up you was killed instantly, however your body was twisted in the wreckage and the doors had welded together and the car had distorted its structure, it took them ages to cut you free though like i said this is the Equinox when Heaven and Hell are both equal so I’m afraid no one can claim you so you’ll have to go back in the spiritual wreckage until the end of all eternity, the other side were kind enough to agree for you to be allowed out so I could explain your predicament. It's ironic really but this is what the other side wanted". The man vanished after saying "goodbye, Sir" and that he was sorry but this was the Equinox, and so Alastair found himself trapped in the spiritual remains of time-past for eternity. All he could do was shout for help from the cars that past; however he knew he could neither be seen nor heard, for this was the Equinox and he was trapped within limbo between light and darkness where no one could decide. END

Not Yet

Despite everything being seemingly perfect, sometimes her mind would wander to that parallel world known as, what might have been, Claire was married to David, whom she had met one evening, because she her car was being repaired because the steering had been playing up, and the trains at decided to stop running because of some inconvenience she could never figure out.

“Perhaps it was all part of a plan?” she told herself, driving to university to study her course in Quantum Physics, the car obviously working well, now that matters had been settled.

David had noticed her, walking in the rain and offered her a lift. At first she hesitated, his voice was firm and seemed to contradict the apparent kindness of his words. However something told her it was alright and so she accepted. They got talking, and one of them, “She could not remember whom.” suggested they meet for a meal, and so they did, and this line of existence came into focus and time changed things, Claire married David and they had so far ben together for thirty seven years. Now however she was becoming more uncertain about the decision she had chosen to make; Or perhaps it had been made for her?

The course Claire was studying was about time, how it worked, what was it's purpose, and did time really exist, or was it merely an illusion created by clocks, and daylight and night time, the Sun and the Moon, incidents arranged and forced upon us by unseen forces, and what happens when time splits, when a decision is made that causes two different outcomes, creating what was known in effect as a Parallel Universe. That was one of the subjects studied in this course, parallel universes.

Claire wondered if by marrying David she had somehow created one, for reasons that were soon to become clarified.

The man giving the course was called Professor Nigel Sanderson. He was in his mid-fifties with a somewhat regular flow of greyish hair, that was tufted in an odd pattern around the sides, yet flat on top, he was not very tall yet for some inexplicable reason , the fact he seemed to stoop though did not actually do so, seemed to make him more so. He had craggy lines around his forehead and a somewhat reddened glow on his face. He usually wore a brown tweed sports jacket type outfit along with a red shirt that seemed as out of place as some of his theories. Claire has blonde hair, somewhat flat and silky, yet white-ish, her figure is slendour and she has green eyes. It was clear to everyone including Claire how attractive she was, and it was also clear that she was popular, not only with the other Students, but also with her teacher, Professor Nigel Sanderson, whom had never married. Claire did not mind, David however did not feel the same.

“Does he have to stand so close to you?” David had once inquired, at an end of term celebration, just before Christmas, that the Students were allowed to bring their friends and family too;

“He's just being friendly.” She said. Anyway, I thought you'd like being seen out with an attractive young woman?”

David had smiled, whilst still holding his cheap glass of wine, the other Students and teaching staff along with all the other staff were mingling in the distance. Claire felt alone and somehow out of place, she did not like this part of David's character, in fact over the years there were many things she had grown to dislike about David, sometimes she even wished she had never met him,

Yet, he had never physically harmed her, although he could be somewhat intimidating, what with his size, he was six-foot three, and his bulky yet athletic physique. And he did shout a lot when he lost his temper, and he seemed to do that mostly whenever anyone did anything to upset him, especially when he was behind the wheel of his car. Claire sometimes wondered what would have happened if instead of having to walk home that night, she had decided to take the car, and the brakes had caused her to somehow interact with David's car and they-”

“Claire, are you alright, inquired one of the students a young man in his twenties called Gavin, we have to go in!”

“I'm sorry.” replied Claire, realising she was blocking the door, and she turned to allow Gavin to enter the classroom, and then flowed suit the door naturally having been left open.

“Ah Claire.” Stated Professor Sanderson, holding a piece of chalk in mid-air amidst a very impressive though complex drawing of Parallel Universes complete with words and number equations, Please take a seat, I'm about to explain how sometimes despite incidents of time bringing about change, they sometimes revert back.”

“Revert back to what?” thought Claire, as she took her usual seat, and took out her note-pad and study course, she then placed them on her desk, the other students had already done the same.

The theory it seemed, was that even if time itself had gone in two different directions thus creating two different outcomes, if these outcomes were slowly being changed to their original first option, then that original outcome would be put in place.

Professor Sanderson gave an example, “Suppose a woman is about to audition to be an Actress and at the last minute, because of some incident she has to cancel, so she does not get the job. However because time had ordained it, time is split in two, thus creating a Parallel Universe where she does get the job. Now what if later on, that same woman who turned down the audition decides to go for another one, with the intention of becoming an Actress, and what if she gets it. Does it affect her other self? Does her other self begin to see her work dry up so to speak Does she choose an alternative form of employment, are the two worlds somehow in conflict with each other?”

This played on Claire's mind, so much so that she became unable to concentrate, not on her work, more so, on the drive home. She began to apparently see things. The night was illuminated only by somewhat faded yellow street lights, made even lesser by the ongoing heavy rain. It seemed to slither down her windscreen, causing lined patterns like strands of thick cut glass. It was as if her windscreen had been smashed, and now, Claire could see the rain drops turning to crimson, a dark bloody crimson, and in some far away world she was beginning to see strands of hair. Her colour hair, even recognisable despite covered in thick red blood. In the distance, despite the night being silent, she could hear screaming, it sounded like her husband's voice. It was the same tone he used when hew was angry, especially whenever someone upset him when he was behind the wheel of his car.

“This is stupid. thought Claire out loud as if she needed to reassure herself, David has never harmed me, he's not like that.”

Claire stopped her car a few yards from her and David's suburban home. Situated in a spacious street amidst other houses, all seemingly unconnected amidst a long winding grey road, as if part of their own individual yet parallel existence. She stopped outside an all night Cafe that was frequented by the more higher class persona, although anyone whom could pay was welcome.

Claire sat alone and picked up a menu. However loyalty to this particular time and existence caused her to check her watch. She usually got home about six, however she was convinced David would understand if she was a few minutes late, and anyway, she felt safe here with people she knew, and so she did not mind the idea of being stuck in some Time Warp where no one could harm her, unlike the world she now lived in, that she was convinced could change at any minute.

Then it happened again, the Menu seemed to turn into a hospital chart with her name on it, and she was convinced a male Doctor in a white coat was standing in front of her. “He even called her by her first name, “Claire.” he stated, Are you alright? We don; t usually get you coming here in the evenings, you and David mostly come at lunch time, is anything wrong?”

Claire looked up, it was Patrick, he was wearing his usual Black outfit complete with matching white shirt that all the waiters wore. She smiled and reassured him everything was fine;

“What would you like?” he inquired, will David be joining you?”

Claire now felt awkward at the situation. She obviously ate with David because they were married, in fact David insisted on it, they took turns doing the cooking and it was her turn tonight, David could become very possessive, another of his traits she did not like.

“I just wanted to come in because I felt a bit tired, she lied, could I have a cup of tea and a piece of cake?”

“What kind, Chocolate, Plain, Jam and Cream-”

“Erm, Just plain.”

“I'm not surprised your tired, stated Patrick, I mean that course you take seems very complicated, something to do with time and it's effect on us all isn't it You know, how the outcomes are decided by the decisions we make, You met David because you attended a business conference and didn't take your car, if you had things might have turned out different!”

“Yes, muttered Claire solemnly, they might have,” And then raising her head she smiled one of her warm and David would call enticing smiles and stated:”Thank you Patrick.”

He smiled and she added, “Would you care to join me.”

“I'd love too.” He smiled, unfortunately we're very busy this evening; Besides what would your husband say?”

“Oh don't worry about him.” smiled Claire. However deep down she was beginning too.

Patrick left to take her order.

“What is my other self doing, in her own little world, thought Claire, Is she still alive? Are things improving for her, has she done something to cause the changes in mine?” “Why hasn't he killed her yet.”

Then it seemed to happen again, this time it was the customers as well as the Waiters and staff, they appeared to be taking part in a busy hospital, and two men appeared to be wheeling in a figure on a stretcher. Claire could not see who it was, however it turned to one man wheeling the dessert trolly and the hospital scene turned back into the cafe.

When Claire got home, it was 7:30 and she felt more ashamed at her suspicions than she did so originally. Especially when David embraced her in a way that showed genuine concern.

“Claire, what happened, I was worried, are you alright?”

She smiled, I stopped off at the cafe?” She stated, I just fancied a piece of cake.”

“Why for goodness sake, we've got Chocolate cake for dessert, you made it remember.”

“Did I? Oh yes, so I did, I'd best check the chicken, I'm afraid dinner's going to be a bit later than usual tonight!.

“Claire are you alright?” David inquired.

However she had now gone into the kitchen to get away from this conversation and to give herself time to think what to do next!

A few moments later she was startled by David entering and brushing past her to get to the sink as if she was viewing him from a different world.

“What you doing?” Inquired Claire, almost flinching back as if she expected to be attacked.

“I'm getting a glass of water.” He stated, taking a glass tumbler and holding it up by means of indication/

“Well can't you wait, the dinner won't be long!”

“Sorry, I didn't know there was a hose pipe ban. What you looking at me like that for It was only a joke;

She stared at his face, it was smiling as if it was trying to reassure her, the way he usually did.

She was having none of it, this time she wanted answers.

“David, have you ever been in an argument whilst driving? I mean, with another motorist;

“Claire, I argue with everyone it's my way;

“No, I mean, “She paused, feeling somewhat embarrassed as well as threatened.” have you ever been in a physical confrontation?”

“Not with another driver, a few close shaves but it's best to avoid them.”

There was a silence then he stated:

“I'll be in the dining room.”

Claire watched him leave and got on with the dinner.

At the table she was quiet, despite David smiling in the hope of starting a conversation she remained silent, her mind on the Parallel Universe, the one with the other her, the one who was trying to change things.

“The car's playing up again; he stated.

“What one?” she inquired, almost accusative.

Claire had decided to keep her car after she had married David, he had done the same with his.

“Mine, ironically the same thing that happened to yours when we met has happened to mine. You remember, you told me about it when I gave you a lift. Just think, if you'd taken the car things may have turned out differently.”

“Yes.” She stated.

Claire decided not to press the conversation, she knew the answers she wanted were more likely to be at the course she was attending. So far she had a vague idea of what was going on, the two universes were in conflict with each other, and she had to make certain things stayed the way that she believed they should.

She stopped her car outside and entered. It was a large building that offered many introductory courses, Claire made her way up the steps and through the large oaken brown doors with the silver pole handles and the fitted glass that looked contradictory. “Like two universes out of context.” Muttered Claire.

She watched a few male and female students walk past to their classes, then she saw Professor Sanderson. Claire decided to approach him.

He smiled the way he usually does, or rather the way he usually does with her and stated:

“Hello Claire, I'm just about to start my class, what's wrong?, You look a bit worried.”

“It''s the theory you told us about how when decisions are sometimes made time go off in two different directions, and that sometimes when circumstances occur they sometimes try to revert back; Like with the Actress you told us about who misses her chance then gets another one. You said it could affect her other self! “Claire paused, then continued, Do you mean in a bad way?”

“Well there are many ways. For instance her other self could be killed, or she might retire, or become something else, such as a Director. Or she might become a Television Actress and decide to leave the theatre or move to America to find work, since the British film Industry's almost rundown! Why'd you ask?

“My husband loses his temper when he's behind the wheel of his car sometimes-”

“He hasn't hit you has he?” Inquired Professor Sanderson, jumping in and touching her arm at the same time.

“No, but I keep thinking what would have happened if I'd taken the car that day when it was playing up. I know this is going to sound stupid, but I've seen things, images, of me, a bloody windscreen, a hospital ward, and now the same-thing is happening again with the car, although this time it's his car not mine! I feel she is trying to change things,

There was a silence and Claire clenched Professor Sanderson's arm realising how this manipulation could be interpreted, then moved closer and deliberately smiling said, “Please, you won't tell anyone, I do trust you, and I just need you to explain things to me;

“Claire, I think it would be best if we went in, and I spoke with you after class; Stated Professor Sanderson opening the door for her.

Claire nodded as if she had been reassured and took her usual seat at her desk.

It was not clear whether Professor Sanderson had decided to change his lesson to emphasise matters, however he began by explaining, “Somewhat reasuringly Claire thought” That all Parallel Universes follow the same time line, so if her other self had suffered fatally at the hands of her husband's other self, then she could not be able to change the course of events!

“Unless of course he hadn't killed her, thought Claire. In which case I am still in danger! Unless I can prevent matters from alternating.”

Professor Sanderson had drawn the usual flows of chalk lines on the board to represent the conception of Parallel Universes, and was now explaining how some universes seemed to be connected in a way that meant their outcome could affect one another. Claire knew he was trying to reassure her, however she knew she would have to discuss matters with her husband, and yet she was becoming more uncertain what the outcome would bring forth.

Claire waited till after the class had finished, then she and Professor Sanderson went to the canteen.

Fortunately there wasn't many people there, and so they found a more secluded spot, whilst Professor Sanderson went and got two teas, after inquiring if Claire wanted a cup. He paid for them both, Claire knew what her husband would say about that, she knew he could be very suspicious. He had never been abusive to her, although sometimes when he raised his voice she did feel threatened, and now she couldn't help wondering what might have been, and she feared somehow it would still occur.'

“I did see the woman, stated Claire, it was me, she was bleeding, she'd been in a car accident I know it'.”

“What are you going to tell your husband. If anything?” Inquired Professor Sanderson, taking a sip of tea.

“Maybe you could talk to him?” She stated, leaning across and clenching his arm.

He looked up. Yet she could see by his face he was confused.

“I'm not certain that's advisable at the moment, I do know what he thinks of me.”

There was a silence, then he stated:

“I would like to help you though.”

She smiled.

That evening Claire arrived home, with the intention of explaining to her husband, exactly what her concerns were, no matter how unusual they seemed; She was convinced that if she made herself seem uncertain of what was happening he was bound to empathise, and maybe that would give her the reassurance that she needed!

David was working late at the office on a business procedure, otherwise he was usually home before she was. Claire would prepare the dinner more or less in the morning, since she worked different hours to her husband.

She heard the car door closing, followed by the sound of David inserting the key into the lock, and stating: I'm home, is everything alright?

“I need to talk to you, she stated, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “It's very important;

“Alright, “He stated coming in, What you want to talk about?”

“David, You know I take a course on quantum physic, and that one of the subjects is the hypothesis relating to Parallel Universes, and how they effect the outcome of events?”

“And you want to know if your the Queen in any of them, well you'll always be mine.” He went over and kissed her face in reassurance. However she remained somewhat uncertain as she inquired:

“David, would you ever harm me?”

“Why you ask me that for? Claire what's happening? It's that bloody course isn't it? Is it that Professor Sanders, I've seen the way he looks at you, if he's been trying to-”

“David, I keep seeing, she paused then stated: I see me, I see me from another universe. Except in this one, I\m bleeding. There's been some sort of car accident. David you remember how we met, I'd forgotten my car and you gave me a lift, except in another universe I didn't and something happened!

He seemed confused,. Claire waited a second then continued.

“I don't know for certain if you and I got into some sort of argument, or what have you, however I keep seeing images of myself covered in blood, and I'm afraid it might happen to me here! That's why I need your reassurance that you will never do anything, intentionally or unintentionally to harm me in anyway whatsoever.”

“He was silent, somehow as if struggling to find the words, She felt an uneasy presence, yet it was she knew of her own making, and she felt even more confused when he inquired:

“Have I ever harmed you? I mean physically; And even when we argue am I not the first to apologize?”

She nodded tight-lipped in silent confirmation as if trying to prevent tears from forming.

“Did you discuss the matter with Professor Sanderson?”

“Yes, he told me not to worry, he wants us to stay together; She stated, as if he was now the one that needed reassuring.”

“Does he?” Inquired David, before turning to go a wash his hands

Claire looked in the mirror on the dresser, and saw herself She was seated in her car, blood covered her face and clothing, she wondered what she should do next?

The End

Author Intrusion

In a small hotel room, with a narrow view apparently overlooking Majorca, an English woman sits at the hotel computer. Elegantly dressed in blue chiffon her mind drifts along the imaginary journey of an English Countryside. Thickened air wafts in Emily Bronte fashion, towards a precipice, the fresh grass ladled with white Hydrangea flowers a snowy essence of loyalty, friendship and-, Whirr, thud, murmurings in Spanish, Ellen turns half round. She is there, again, vacuuming, loud noise, moving papers, drafts. Ellen tries to focus on the two main characters, yet they fade with the reality of the noise And-”

“For God's Sake Señora Mencheso, please, wait, She rises amiably as only a refined English woman could and steadying with hands on shoulders, states:

“Please, Seniora, my Agent has promised the Publisher I will have the book finished at the end of the week. And I do not mind telling you, I am struggling. My heroine Lady Charlotte Featherwell longs to marry the dashing and brave Mr Dericote, however she is trapped in a brutal and loveless marriage to the despicable Lord Cedric Blackstone, A violent yet rich and influential drunkard whom took advantage of her when she was poor and threatened to evict her unless she succumbed-” And now, unless murder becomes an option, I cannot see a solution.

Seniora Mescheso pauses, and so Ellen commutes stating:

“He is a ruthless and powerful man, and my hero Mr Dericote, although brave and loyal, cannot succumb to darkness and impurity in the hope of rectifying a solution, so you see my dilemma.

“Ah, I understand, states the elderly portly cleaning woman, her hair a bundle her outfit as appropriate as the characters in the Victorian Romance, Ellen is desperate to complete.

“I clean quieter, I move papers from here to-”

“Please, states Ellen dreading the thought of her notes being scattered, can you just leave-”

“I clean, I use polish, no papers get wet, I-” Ahhh,

She trips, catching her hand on the computer desk, the papers spew across the floor, the double door window blows open like a cliché, the papers begin to blow. Senora Mescheso begins to pick them up, muttering in Spanish, whilst Ellen rushes to close the window before important documents are scattered to the wind. Locking the double door window, Ellen turns to see Senora Mescheso, place the papers in unnumerical order onto the bed, and begins to clean, moving the control, she somehow manages to disconnect the computer screen. Ellen rushes over, shouting “My draft, my notes, Oh please, “She gently though frantically pushes her out the way, and sits at the computer.

There is a thickened tension, the Spanish cleaner waits, whilst Ellen relieved she has not lost her manuscript and it has only been moved to an unofficial location, manages to save it, just as her mobile phone rings. Ellen presses Save and answers, it is her Agent, he states:

“Ellen darling, good news, they' re prepared to up the advance, however it must be finished by the end of the week-, Whirrr” “Ellen darling what in God's name is that-”

“Please. Shouts Ellen, I am trying to answer the phone will you stop bloody vacuuming-”

“I clean room/”

“Ellen, Ellen your breaking up darling; Ellen can you hear me sweetie; It's not a very -” Whirr,

“Hold on David, I'm going to take it outside. For Goodness sake, Senora, please do not mess up my writing, understand?

The Spanish cleaning woman pauses or so it seems, Ellen goes over and announces in Spanish,

“Deja los Papeles dende estan: Leave the papers where they are.

“Ah Si. I leave papers-” I clean room”

Frantically Ellen rushes out, worried about the deadline for her book, among other things.

In the hotel dining room, Ellen manages to find an empty table, fortunately it is not yet time to eat, and she explains her predicament to David. “I need to find a way to free my heroine, so she can marry Mr Dericote, however Lord Blacksword would never allow such a thing, all Ellen has at the moment is her precious Hydrangea flowers, a symbol of appreciation for what has been received in acknowledgement.

“And they are blue, like your dress/”

“Yes, and they grow in moist porous soil, an excellent place for a secluded Victorian setting , complete with suppressed townsfolk and precipice, but how to end my story-? Oh David I do not think I can do this! She is so annoying, you do not know this past week what I've had to put up with' Only last Monday, she accidentally deleted a whole chapter, and it was chapter five. How she managed it I do not know, but it completely confused me-”

“Ellen, you must stay calm and concentrate, Now I've already promised the Publisher and if he does not get the manuscript by the end of the week, I'm afraid it will not do much for your reputation/”

“David, I am trying believe me; It's just that, well I'm stuck, I don't want to change the way my chapters act, and yet, if I cannot find a solution, I'm afraid I may have to forget the whole thing;

“Ellen darling you can't be serious. Look, why not get some rest, it may help you to concentrate'

|I'll try/”

“Alright, I have to leave now, call me back when you're finished. Good luck .

“I will.” stated Ellen, and clicked off her mobile and went back into her hotel room, only to find Señora Mescheso, struggling with the vacuum cleaner wire, the cord having got caught, and now Ellen watched in horror as the computer crashed literarily off the table, causing her to scream/

“Can't you stop bloody interfering. Oh For God's Sake, here let me, you've got the wire-”

Ellen begins to tug, the Spanish Cleaner has gotten tangled., there is a tooing and froing, then with one sharp pull, Ellen frees the wire from it's socket, causing Señora Mescheso to be swept backward, her bopdy crashes through the double door windows that fly open as if a welcoming embrace, she screams her body falls and lands dead a stain on the pavement like a preverbal inkblot.

“Ellen reinstates the computer. Fortunately it is working and nothing is broken or mislaid. Then she pauses in thought and states:

“That's it. She is followed by him in one of his drunken moods and he slips on the hydrangea flowers and falls to his death from the precipice caused by the moist porous soil on a rain swept evening. Oh thank you Señora, now I can finish my book' You have been helpful after all/

The End

Demon Lover

Dear ladies of amiable virtue, before you seek to condemn this young woman for what has befallen, let us carefully observe the details as they unfold. Watching closely as she goes through the ritual of change that many young girls will witness in their arousal. Crawling off the bed, her nightdress unbuttoned she wearily grabs her small bag with it's contents and proceeds in hesitation towards the bathroom. The passage is dark and so she feels secluded from those that dare to judge what they cannot understand. Once inside she locks the door and stares at the image within the mirror.

She breaths a temporary sigh of relief, for knowing she has already been penetrated, and that in a reversal of fortune her stomach feels drained, No youthful existence will therefore flourish. For childhood dreams have never been born, And the embryonic existence she once knew has finally been crushed. She stares at herself as a woman, allowing her nightdress to fall. Whilst studying her milkened flesh that he has drunk from. Her breasts sag yet they will be renourished as the desire comes upon her. Yet as the dark clouds form and the Moon shines brightly, she knows it is time for the test to begin. In anticipation she reaches in for “The Book” the small torn and battered holy scripture that has guided her so well until now, yet maybe there is hope?

She watches as two thin lines of blood trickle from her neck and fall upon the blackened leather. She reaches out and attempts to brush them off with the slenderness of her fingers.

The pages burn, they turn blue, the flame shows the test is positive. Though she prays she has not been cast aside. And as the pages lay scattered in a heap of charred remains, she reaches in to the bag and knows there are two more tests to perform. The small bottle of holy water; Here fingers begin to unscrew the top, and as the water begins to trickle she allows it to break free of it's contents, causing her to scream, the burning sensation upon her neck, the steam that hisses as she drops the contents, watching as her water leaves a puddle over the bathroom floor, mixed with the blood to create a more darkened result.

If you seek to condemn in anticipation of the outcome, then dear ladies, may I announce they will fade along with the image within the mirror. No longer reflected of a long forgotten mortal existence, she stares at nothingness. Her innocence has left her, she tastes the soft blood stained upon her canine teeth. The arousal taken from her has begun to return, knowing that when she embraces, she will control the body in it's splendour, causing it to become rigid in fear and anticipation of the outcome. Uncleansed and unchaste she unlocks the bathroom door, clutching the marks on her neck in acceptance as she crawls along the corridor, until she reaches her bedroom and flings open the window. The cold air penetrates her warm body as she reels in shame at the chain and crucifix that now lay on the floor. She is distracted by the flapping of wings as if being called to a new existence.

And so dear ladies, she lays upon her bed, in acceptance of what she is, knowing that her Demon Lover will return

The End

The Cheese Course

“There is something pleasurable in discovering a delicacy, that has been overlooked, rather than extravagantly denied.” Exclaimed renowned Bostonian food critic Clarence Farnsworthy, seated in one of the more exclusive Manhattan Restaurant whilst preparing another review for The New york Times.

Although food critics usually traveled incognito, so as not to be duped like some unsuspecting tourists, his companion on this excursion was his live in girlfriend and literary assistant, Judith Cresler, a woman twenty years younger to his sixty five, yet knowing that mature things give back more in the long run, instead of the quick thrills sort by the lesser Epicureans. However the evening was to be somewhat regrettable yet again. For having enjoyed a fine meal with his companion of

Lobster Newburg accompanied by a few glasses of Albarino from Gallicia in the Northwest corner of Spain

Veal escalopes with lemon and a garnish of sautéed potatoes, to which they drank a glass of Rioja

and finishing with Apple and Thyme Pastry Tarts with Cinnamon Ice cream. With that he drank water and she orange juice.

The reason was to be made clear as indeed was to be his disappointment yet again. For one of his major passions was the delicacy “As he referred to it” known as cheese. Clarence had a somewhat renowned knowledge of cheese, that went well with his knowledge of wine. Especially Spanish and Italian wines and his desire for strong cheeses, such as Stilton, Cashel Blue, proper English Cheddar, and Casu Marsu. He beckoned the Waiter, whom approached with an inquiring look, the Restaurant itself was half full with various clientele, except for a well dressed man seated in the alcove where he could watch and not be seen. He studied the look on Clarence's face as a somewhat limited cheese selection was placed in front of him and his companion, and it was obvious by the disappointing look on Clarence's face that he was hoping for something more elaborate, which the man was prepared to offer. Seeing Clarence discard the somewhat limited and processed selection, even the blue cheese that was merely coloured powdered to effect. The man waited, until Clarence and his companion were about to leave having settled the bill, then he approached and stated in a somewhat refined English accent, though with compliant New Yorker. “Excuse me, Your the food critic Clarence Farnsworthy-”

:Yes, but I'm with a Colleague, so if you want a quick autograph I can oblige, however I'm afraid I cannot stop and-”

“Oh no, you misjudge me; I saw the way you correctly discarded the choice they put before you. If you ask me, most Americans know as much about cheese as they do about chocolate; Cheese is a delicacy, it has so many flavours and textures and I believe I can be of assistance”

The man produced what looked like an old crumpled map from his trouser pocket, as if he wanted directions, however he pointed to a red circled spot on 5^th Avenue and explained that the place in question sold proper cheese delicacies, including Casu Marzu.

“I heard your choice of wines, I think you will find the cheeses there quite Moorish.”

“Isn't Casu Mazu banned? Inquired Judith, pleased at the chance to show her knowledge, and prove that this was a partnership and more than a culinary one at that, Because it-”

“Contains worms? Said the ma., Yes, but as you probably know the place I refer to merely looks like a discarded paint peeled maroon door. Resembling some failed city project that no one investigates. There is a number at the top, if you phone them I assure you they will be most cooperative;

Clarence thought for a moment then stated, “I don't want to find out that this is some gimmicky processed cheese, popular on Halloween, with pieces of mushroom, or Quark or whatever they use to represent living bacteria; If it is, I will be disappointed!

“What have you got to lose? If you don't like it leave.”

And being curious about everything, especially food, Clarence and his companion. Thanked the man in polite literal terms and set off.

To make certain of no further disappointments, Clarence used his mobile to announce he was arriving with his companion. An elderly distinguished sounding man with a gentle American-british accent stated that they would be expected. They were to announce their arrival for security reasons, having already been asked to give their names, they had both complied in doing so.

To be certain they both took a Taxi, and after paying the driver tip included and he thanked them before driving off. They both found their selves standing in front of the maroon door that seemed to blend in with the brickwork. The only part that had no graffiti. “As if it was cleaned regularly to keep up appearance.” thought Clarence to himself. There was no knocker or buzzer, so Clarence decided to phone the man yet again, whom answered and on hearing whom they were went and let them in, closing the door behind him as he did so.

The place had a light woodish appearance concerning the walls. The floor was a dull unpainted white consisting of easily noticeable floorboards. It was as if they had stepped into an old decrepit house that had never been painted, let alone started on. The man was somewhat roundish in appearance and about five foot two wearing a white coat, red shirt and black trousers. He had tufted white-ish hair, and his lined face seemed to smile pleasantly as he announced: “How may I be of assistance to you you both?”

“My name is Clarence Farnsworthy, I'm a food critic, with a love of cheeses. I was told you have some acceptable delicacies, and we were wondering if we might discuss purchases?|

“And do you have any particular cheeses, either of you are interested in?

“I was told you may have Casu Marzu, though we would like to try some of your other delicacies if we may?”

The man glanced at the three wooden steps in the distance, leading to a slightly higher level, where a warm light shone a yellowy glow as if this was necessary.

“If you would both care to follow me?” Stated the man.

They did so.

There were two displays, or rather one, the first was the typical sanitised appearance in cheese shops good, bad or indifferent, the other was the kind kept behind the grey steel door with the somewhat dusty glass,. Clarence tried to look inside, getting a glimpse of a circular object that seemed to have white moving line,, “This he told himself was where the best stuff was kept.”

“And where would you both like to start?: Inquired the man, smiling pleasantly. Perhaps with some cheddar or a little brie?

“Enjoy the starter before the main, announced Clarence glancing at his companion. We'll try some strong English cheddar, and then perhaps a little French Brie.'

“And would you both care for a glass of port? We have a fine selection on offer to go with all types of cheese selections,?”

:It might be worth trying, stated Judith, holding onto Clarence's arm as if they were discussing an anniversary present, We are expecting some guests from the Food Writers Guild and it doesn't hurt to impress.” She smiled at the man as if to include him in the statement.

“Indeed it does not. he stated, We have a rather nice Sousao, or would you prefer a Tinta Roriz, both from the Douro Valley Portugal, that would blend nicely with a mild blue, or even a soft Brie.”

Clarence thought for a moment then inquired, again, “I was told you sell Casu Mazu, is that correct, I mean it is banned in the States for obvious reasons. Not that I'm implying anything you understand.”

“None taken Sir. We did have some Casu Mazu, however our supply has not yet arrived, for various reasons. I can however offer you a yet unnamed cheese, that has a somewhat mild yet lingering after taste, somewhat similar to Tante Moine from Sweden, though somewhat stronger in flavour.

It does also contain Maggots, if that is what you desire?”

Clarence noticed the dubious look on his companion's face as she clung tighter to him as if fearing some unexplained event was about to occur.

“It's alright. He reassured her with a glance, They are quite harmless. I've had Pecorino and Casu Marzu many times on my travels.”

“I've only been with you to certain regions, she stated, however if you both say it is safe.”

“The acid in your stomach kills them Madam. Stated the man, then seemed to whisper softy, “Apparently.”

:Alright; she stated.

“And the Port, a Tinta Roriz perhaps? If your interested our cheapest prices range from $25's to our most expensive at $70500's .”

“We'll both take a glass; smiled Clarence, smiling at his companion in reassurance.

“I won't be a moment Sir; Stated the man, opening the steel door with a rusty key of many on a circular keychain, closing it loosely, and returning with a somewhat runny circle that seemed to be leaking a pool of lavae that smelt of rather strong odours, and could clearly be seen incorporating while strands, wriggling as if inquisitive. The man placed the mound of cheese on a wooden bench like table. The cheese was on a clean white plater, although the ooze had somewhat exaggerated parts of it's appearance. A cheese cutting knife was already situated, the holes are to prevent the cheese sticking to the blade and therefore prevent any unintentional effecting of it's flavour.

They waited whilst the man went to get two glasses of port and a small plate consisting of four biscuits. When he returned he set the small silver tray with the lattice pattern and it;'s contents on the table and prepared to cut a piece of the cheese, Firstly for Judith to try.

“And where is this cheese made?” Inquired Clarence.

“I'm not certain Sir, confirmed the man, It's somewhere between Area 51 and parts of The Yorkshire Triangle, Madam, he stared placing a piece on a biscuit, if you would care to try?”

The worms seemed to be entwined within the cheese, like amoebas coming out of a primordial existence. She let her tongue first taste the firm slightly hardened texture, then the runny melting companion, as she felt the gelatinous flesh sliding onto her tongue, she took a small bite and immediately felt a somewhat euphoric reaction within her brain, combined with the lingering yet pleasing nutty texture. There was a somewhat moist flesh like taste of the maggots, with traces of well cooked meat, or so she would have described it.

They both waited in anticipation of her reaction, and were equally pleased when smiling to herself she took another bite. At which point with already perceived intentions Clarence decided to join her.

They settled on a package of the unknown cheese and two bottles of Tinta Roriz, as well as some English Stilton, some French ripened Camembert, Italian Taleggio, a slice of Vermont Bonne Bouche, a piece of Dehesa De Los Llanos from Spain as well as a Cabrales, and a mild Garotxa Cantalonia all three from Spain. The cheeses and Ports had been neatly packaged and they had each been given a leaflet advertising popular choices for holidays such as Christmas, with a 10% discount off a rare bottle of Paxron and Whitfield Tawny Port, said to go well with Stilton or even a good Tetilla from Spain, excellent for dessert with it's lemon texture. Effective for a citrus pairing of Christmas flavours.

Whilst in their somewhat lavish apartment in the more high priced secluded area of New York 42cnd Street. Clarence set about unpacking, whilst Judith was instantly on the phone to her gourmet friends as she referred to them, though only to Clarence and by means of hierarchical importance, Explaining what had happened and longing to see them for another dinner party.

It was whilst talking to a woman named Claire that Judith felt the insatiable urge to take another bite of the unknown cheese. And seeing it was unpackaged proceeded to do so. Clarence did not seem to mind, in fact he was rather pleased that she was taking such an interest.

He smiled as she took a piece, and eating it went back to the phone, apologising and regaining the conversation. Whilst Clarence continued with his unpacking.

It was getting somewhat late, and having already eaten at the Restaurant, they decided to relax in the comfort of their home. after Clarence had put the cheeses and Ports away. He had placed the unknown cheese in a separate plastic container within the fridge at the warmest part, to keep fresh so that the worms would not go off. Since they had to remain fresh to preserve the taste. Now he was looking forward to taking Judith with him, on his next visit to Italy and impressing her. She was very attractive and he had been afraid of losing her company, since other men had been paying an interest in her, and he had been worried she was finding his excursions into the world of food somewhat mundane. Now as he watched her leave to enter the kitchen, he knew like him, she was a true Affineur, a lover of cheeses. He slumped back in the armchair whilst she proceeded to make two cups of English tea, and considered booking a flight to Italy for both of them as a surprise, since it was coming up to her birthday and he wanted to keep her occupied so to speak.

At about 1030 Judith exclaimed that she was feeling tired and that she was going to bed. Clarence said he'd be up soon, “After watching the news. Probably all that Port and cheese; he smiled, I feel a bit tired myself.” He watched her leave. He thought he heard her in the kitchen, however he ignored this, since Judith always liked to snack, and the cheese was indeed some of the best he'd ever tasted, He decided at about 11.07 to check for himself. By then Judith was already in bed, and on entering the kitchen, he decided to see what she had consumed. He took out the container and on opening it, noticed it had become more runny, it seemed to contain lavae, that was somehow integrated along with the cheese itself and the maggots, it was as if the cheese had the same connection to the worms as eggs to a chicken or milk to a cow, as if they were producing the cheese their selves. He dismissed this, assuming the cheese had just gotten more runny, “Probably due to the fridge temperature being messed up or something.” he muttered, helping himself to a runny piece before putting back the container and tightly securing the lid. He then got undressed in the bedroom where his pajamas were kept on his side, and got into bed. He kissed Judith on the face, even though she did not stir, then he too fell asleep. He was somewhat disturbed in the middle of the night by Judith getting up, He checked the alarm clock noticing it was 3:13 and assumed she was going to the bathroom. Instinctively he turned on the table lamp that was on her side, even though he too liked to read, and noticed there was a tiny drop of blood,

“Judith, are you alright? he inquired, have you been cleaning your teeth too hard again?

He got out of bed and decided to talk to her in what he assumed would be the bathroom, however she was not there. Noticing the light from the kitchen he went to find out if she was alright, perhaps she was getting a glass of water to wash out the blood. She was holding the carton of cheese, he noticed she seemed to be consuming it's contents as if she was addicted. She did not notice him approach, he tapped her on the shoulder and called out her name,

Instinctively as if startled she seemed to drop the container and he thought he heard tiny voices state, “Leave us alone”

“Clarence?” she muttered as if she was unaware of her surroundings.

He stared at the runny contents that now oozed on the floor, the maggots crawling through the cheese lava, though now there was stripes of red, he turned to Judith, whom was now becoming tired. “We need to get you back to bed.” he stated, taking her arm with both his in order to guide her. He would get rid of the container afterwards, he would wash out its contents and flush it down the toilet. “Perhaps I am over reacting; he told himself, as he got her back in their bed, however it's best to be on the safe side,”

Clarence decided to keep on the lamp light, so he could watch Judith and make certain she was alright. “Maybe it was her gums bleeding because she had rubbed them too hard? He told himself, maybe I did imagine the voices; However he decided he would throw away the cheese, “And then what? he inquired to himself as he went into the kitchen, the larvae seemed to have increased, he went to get some kitchen roll to scoop it up back into its container,, then taking it over to the sink he began to fill it with water in order to destroy its contents. Quickly before anything he assumed could happen he took it into the toilet and poured the contents down the pan, the sound of the chain pulling now seemed in unison with Judith's coughing and what sounded like spluttering. Clarence dropped the now empty container. Rushing in to see what was occurring. He then noticed that blood was on the sheets. Judith had been sick violently, and not only that, she seemed somewhat dazed, as if her body was responding automatically, whilst her mind was not.

“Judith, he called going over to her and noticing the blood soaked worms and larvae that was crawling out of her mouth, Oh God. I'm going to call an ambulance! Judith can you hear me? I'm going to get help”

Going into the passage where a telephone was kept on a brown oaken one legged table with a white lattice cloth for decoration, Clarence picked it up and dialed 911. The Operator a woman, inquired of the emergency and he stated:

“I need an ambulance, it's my girlfriend, she's eaten some cheese, she's being sick;

:It's probably mild food poisoning; They are very busy at this time of night, however I will put you through, Hold on please.”

Clarence waited for what seemed like ages, the only sounds being the ringing of the tele[hone and Judith's coughing and vomiting in unison. He became concerned that she was losing too much blood and that very soon she would hemorrhage! It was then he heard a man's voice state:

“Ambulance, what seems to be the problem?”

“It's my girlfriend she's eaten some cheese and now she can't stop vomiting, she's bringing up blood and she has maggots coming out of her mouth;

There was a pause then the man stated:

“Sir, we are very busy. We do not have time for this sort of thing, we have serious cases to deal with.”

“This is serious, for goodness sake; I am not making this up! Please you must come I think they're aliens.”

The phone went silent.

“Hello, hello are you still there? “Idiot.” shouted Clarence slamming the phone down in frustration. He ran into the bedroom. Judith was now on the floor. She was laying on her back and the blood had now become a trickle, yet her eyes had turned a dark galaxy black without the stars, and the worms were still crawling out of her mouth.

Clarence helped her up by placing an arm around his shoulder and taking the unconscious Judith into the kitchen, where instinctively he began to mix salt water, forcing it down her throat in order to make her sick and destroy the maggots. He was trying to get her to drink the liquid as she kept coughing, some of the larvae and their adult species had dropped onto the floor, yet the salt water was also coming out too quick. Clarence knew he needed to try something else. He sat her on the chair, her body still slumped and unconscious, whilst he contemplated making some coffee. He noticed that now they were dropping out of her mouth, yet he knew it was not yet over. He needed to get help.

“Judith, I won't be a minute; he stated, I'm going to phone some of our friends, they can help us.”

He then added that he was putting the kettle on, and poured some coffee via five spoonfuls into a large cup, in the hope it would revive her because of it's strong contents. Then he went into the Dining Room in order to dial, two men and a woman whom were also renowned food critics and close friends of him and Judith. Their names were, Jack, Toby, and Amelia, who is American English. Her Mother is a Newspaper Editor for a upperclass food magazine in London and her Father an American Businessman who owns a Catering Service. It was Amelia whom answered since he had dialed her first, and after explaining clearly what was occurring, he heard her say she was coming round and that she would bring the others as he had requested.

“It's going to be alright?” she reassured him, go see how Judith is.”

On hearing the kettle click, he went into the kitchen and poured some strong black coffee before putting back the kettle. He then went over to Judith and seeing her mouth conveniently open, forced her head back and began to pour in the coffee. She still spluttered yet at least it was going in, and some of it was remaining. He put down the cup and placing his arm around her shoulder began walking her round, talking all the time about things they had done as a couple and places they had been too. He kept asking her questions about places and things as if trying to get her to respond to his questions. She was mumbling and he was certain he could hear the tiny voices, yet some of them were becoming fainter. It was then he heard two cars drive up.

“They've arrived. Judith our friends are here; You stay on the chair I'm going to let them in.”

He slumped her on the chair and rushed to open the door. Jack and Toby stood there with their wives and Amelia with her husband, they were all dressed as if they had just returned from a dinner party, the men in suits and ties, the women in blue dresses.

“What's going on?” He inquired, have you all been somewhere?”

“They've been to the cheese shop.” he heard a voice state.

Clarence turned to see Judith standing there, the blood had stopped dripping from her mouth, yet her eyes were galaxy black without the stars. She was moving towards him automatically.

Instinctively he turned to the others, their eyes were the same.

“Judith told us all about the cheese shop.” said Jack, as Judith grabbed him round the neck, her strength having increased as if by some extra terrestrial force. We'd like you to sample some with us,” continued Jack. I have some in my car. Running a catering business, I believe I can put it to good use.

Clarence began to struggle, as Toby and Amelia grabbed his arms holding them with both their hands as if on a warped date. They all began to drag him, literarily kicking and trying to scream as Judith tightened her grip around his neck, causing him to slump, When he awoke he found himself seated in a chair at the head of the Dining Table. They were forcing his mouth open, and Jack was presenting the cheese on a silver platter, the maggots were breeding in front of him and now Jack was forcing the cheese into his mouth. He could hear them saying you will soon be one of us, and as he adapted to the taste, he could hear their voices inside his head, explaining why.

The End

Bland Logic

Sometimes he felt strange, seated alone in the phone in studio, waiting for their calls, wondering what he would say to give reassurance to those whom needed advice. Before it was easy, almost as if he had memorised a script, like it was some miniature chip within his brain, activated to correspond to whatever advice his callers needed. However the questions were getting more debatable. He knew that despite what was now happening, for once he did not seem to have all the answers.

“This is NightCalls, My name is Alan Babbage. We're discussing how people react to different problems. And what part logic plays when your under stress; “Whom do we have on line seven?

The man in the News booth stated that, “We have Charles on line seven, who wants to talk about the war.”

“Alright, put him through, go ahead Charles your through to NightCalls what do you have to say?”

“Well first of all, I'd like to say that, my son was killed in the war-”

“I'm sorry to hear that!”

There was a silence so the phone in presenter continued by stating:

“Do you want to elaborate on what happened? Please take yourb time and tell us in your own words how you are feeling!

Alright I'll tell you, because it ties in with what your talking about when it comes to how people react, or rather how they are programed to react!”

“Please go on!”

“Well my Son was a Fighter Pilot. He was shot down, his plane exploded before it even landed according to Army Reports! However what I want to say is, you sit behind your desk, taking our calls for advice and, after a while it all seems like a set of quick response answers, you know, if a guy wants to date a girl tell him to dress smart and pluck up courage to talk to her. If your being picked on, then learn to be more assertive, if your having problems at work or home with your job or marriage then try and understand the other person's point of view, learn to empathise! Except people don; t empathise, unless to their selves by lying!

He seemed emotional, however the phone in Presenter knew it was best to allow his callers to express their selves when they phoned in with their problems,

I'll give you an example, my Son and all those who risked their lives, “with many of them being killed” knew they were going out to fight with real human beings, whilst our leaders chose to sit behind a desk with their Croupier type sticks, moving military toys, such as tanks and planes and soldiers, so that it reduced human beings to inanimate objects, far lesser than machines. Something we both understand! And all that matters is the outcome, not the effects it has on people,, or their families, merely a bland logic response!

Charles tried to remain calm whilst stating,:

“I mean sometimes you get turned down on a date. And when you try to stand up for yourself it doesn't always work out the way you wanted. And when you try to solve a situation using bland logic people don't always take your advice! When the peace talks broke down that's when the only irrational response came into place, and that's when things got out of hand, and I'd just like to say, why didn't they listen to you? I mean isn't that why you're here? Isn't that what you were given the job for, to make us think logically, so that we'd reach a solution? I would just like to know what went wrong?

“Well, I suppose in theory anyone can be logical, it's just that when emotion, fear and prejudice get in the way, all of the intelligent arguments go out the window. And fear causes those in question to try and find a solution that will solve the problem, whilst not thinking what will be the full outcome; Because as you said,”All people are interested in is a quick solution to their problems, or as you put it, “Bland logic.” Thank you for calling. If you want to you call please leave your name and phone number and one of our trained Councilors will get back to you. It's coming up to 10.0 P.M. it's time for the news!

Alan switched off the sound and motioned to The NewsReader to join him outside, whom immediately put on a recording of the news he had made earlier before agreeing to do so.

Outside bodies lay dead in the street, amidst burnt cars and houses. Big Ben could be seen in the distance, it's left side destroyed by a bomb blast, yet somehow it's mechanism was still working.

A paper blew against The phone in Presenter's leg, wrapping itself around as if for warmth, he picked it up and read it the headline Stated:

MIDDLE EAST TALKS BREAK DOWN, CHINA RESPONDS WITH NUCLEAR ATTACK ON THE UNITED STATES AND ITS WESTERN ALLIES ACCUSING THEM OF TRYING TO FORCE ECONOMIC PRSSURE TO BRING ABOUT CHINA'S DEMISE.

WESTERN AND UNITED STATES FORCES TO RESPOND WITH NUCLEAR WEAPONS.

WORLD WAR THREE HAS BEGUN!

“Why didn't they listen to us? Inquired Alan, I mean what was the point of wanting our advice if they weren't going to listen!|

“Maybe they should have given us a wider range of empathy and not just a mass of wires and circuits!” Stated The NewsReader.

The two men pressed a button on their left wrists covered buy their artificial flesh, their faces clicked open to reveal a mass of wires and circuits and pingpong balls that when their faces were closed looked like eyes, as was intended.

The two men pressed their wrists again and their faces went back to normal by closing. Now they looked human. A tear ran down the Presenter's face, when he considered what might have been, if people had only listened to the advice they'd sort.

The En