She could tell I was faking it. Unforgiveness. Ten years working at the lab, overtimes, ruined marriage, kids that pretend I'm not their dad, ulcers. I hated her for joking around, waving the scalpel, accidentally killing F7, our first subject to live beyond three months.

In human years he this was equivalent to 20. Tall, dark haired, extraordinarily strong. Yes, he was ugly, but this was of no consequence. We had all grown to love him. .

Sonia, my assistant ran out the room instead of trying to save his life. Couldn't look at me. Knew I would never stop...

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Millions died during the War of the Worlds in 2080. Not just on Earth but on our sister planet, Gaia. The worst problem was a lack of water, the oceans and rivers poisoned, rainfall scarce during those times, not like in the early part of the century with nearly daily showers, floods especially in England.

I was a child during the war and helped my dad keep our secret. Wells on our land. Water coming from underground sources, still pure enough to drink.

We could not share, we would have been killed for even a cup of our water.


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I shot my butler. R500's faults were many, burning the morning toast, giving me a crumpled newspaper to read, ushering guests into the wrong rooms to name a few. Robots should know better, after all their programming is far superior to our brains.

After a week of complaints from Marie, my third wife, the sexiest one I've had, R500 had to go. I used my new rifle to shoot him outside in the garden, scaring the peacocks strutting around on the lawn.

Obviously it was the wrong method of dispatch, he's back in the house, ironing my dress shirt for...

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Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take. I had to get out of the Martian prison and home for the past six years. John, the guard bribed to allow me to escape and take secrets stored in memories I could expose back on Earth.

A ship was scheduled the next day which would take me on the long journey home but modern technological advances meant I would get back to London sixteen hours later.

I regretted leaving behind my friends, knowing their fate but someone had to expose the lies about the great new...

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The city was empty. I lost my way back in the dark unfamiliar landscape, absence of neon flashing landmarks to guide, silence unnerving me like nothing ever had in my one hundred and eighty years on this planet. Since immortality was the norm, the world had changed beyond all imagination, people no longer wishing to stay cramped so scattered around the galaxy, Earth abandoned, unloved, only a few of us remained as guardians. But in essence we were prisoners of our grandparents greed, innovation and biological advances.

I am a very lonely man. We all are.

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The conversation lasted two words. Alien Origin.

The scientist was shot in the head after his pronouncement. The trail brought to a halt. The military chief hearing the evidence verified, used his own pistol and was returning it to his pocket and issuing orders for the body to be removed when he received a very unexpected call.

His wife. She knew not to ever call him at work. But from the tone of her voice after she had finally been put through, something was seriously wrong at home.

Ordinarily anything to do with his work, was the priority. But not...

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The audience stared open mouthed at me. "Let's just do a thought experiment," I breezed into the debate, "and imagine that super powered people, Supers, actually exist. Telepathy, Telekinesis. Even flight. All that stuff. Imagine it was not just the subject of your lexically challenged, so called literature…"

This last bit was 'performed' as my fingers nimbly retrieved the hidden comic from a front row student's folder. The kid smiled sheepishly and impersonated a beetroot.

A voice from somewhere at the back answered him. "Then we should look in the asylums, Prof X…"

Prof X? The Mutant? That was a...

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The disco ball was turning whilst paramedics worked on the bodies. It was the worst ever disaster they had encountered inside a club. Tiny mirror squares reflected human carnage, twisted metal, unrecognizable things beyond possible description.

The public were told an explosion caused the building to collapse inwards trapping everyone including the emergency crews. Dreadful tragedy. Months of mourning.

Dan a fourteen year old hacker managed to get into a computer that isn’t supposed to exist. His parents listed him missing hours after he posted the truth on the internet - that all survivors of the explosion were killed on...

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Giving in wasn't an option.


hadnt considered the consequences of the experiment. Quantum Flux theory was such a new area, although 

he'd always /she'd never

been interested in it 

ever since he / when she

was a child

Or maybe/ but actually

it was later, 
much later that

 he'd / she'd

come to the field. Now the latest test apparatus had performed 

well he / strangely she

had begun to have doubts.

Maybe it was the results or maybe

 he was tired / she was overreacting


hed / she'd

noticed strange things happening. A sense of deja vu? Something wasn't right. Like...

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He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet.

"The Internet. It's gone!"

"You mean the link's dead? Bloody broadband…"

"No, it's gone. 404s everywhere," the bearer of bad tidings paused to pant some relief into his lungs, "there's nothing left. All the World's knowledge is…"

"… gone."

They looked at each other.

"Hell, what are we going to do this afternoon?"

"I don't know. Work? Maybe?"

They sniggered.

13 days later, when Society had collapsed, one was eating the other, barely able to remember what a 404 was. He was surprised they'd lasted that long....

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