To think, this all began with a postcard. In 2004, I got a postcard covered with enticing art enclosed in an issue of Scrye Magazine in the mail. It was announcing Decipher, Inc.’s new trading card game, WARS. I spent the whole afternoon looking at the art on that postcard, and daydreaming. I was hooked instantly, and when I got to read the stories Decipher began posting online, I was in love. There were feuding aliens that came through a “Mumon Rift” into our own world, cyborg pirates on the edge of space, samurai with jetpacks, vehicles like rolling balls, and so many wonders. But what really hooked me were the characters: WARS focused heavily on personal conflict and the reasons why people acted the way they did. There was hearty adventure, and it never lost that heart. There was no evil empire, only people who believed what they thought was just and right...in a way that was incompatible with others. And all too quickly, that riftage daydream ended. The game was put on hiatus, and the stories stopped. But I never forgot. In college, I gave out WARS decks I bought for pennies on the internet, and started making friends playing the game, going on to run a popular WARS roleplaying game in college where those friends became lifelong ones. We told stories together, and dreamed that we could bring that joy to others. It was during all of that that Grail Quest Books took up the license to publish WARS stories, and put out six novellas detailing the history of the setting. From my passion for the setting, I got my first job in traditional publishing through Josh and Kasandra Radke: proofreading and giving content advice on a few of the Novellas. But soon, those novellas stopped too, and WARS was once again on hiatus. But I hadn’t stopped, along with the friends I made in college, I started my own sci-fi series, 10,000 Dawns. I edited anthologies, worked with heroes of mine till they became colleagues, put out novels, wrote plays, and finally began to publish books I didn’t write a word of myself. My small press, Arcbeatle Press, was doing well, and I’d begun to establish myself in the world of writing and publishing. That was when I got the email: the folks at Grail Quest Books, who’d given me that first job, wanted me and Arcbeatle Press to take over the WARS publishing license. It had been my dream for 15 years. How could I say no? I’m so honored, and excited to be carrying the torch of Decipher’s WARS Universe. I can’t tell you much about our plans, we’re working on a lot of things and it’s going to take time to get them ready, but rest assured, me and the team at Arcbeatle Press are passionate about this, and we can’t wait to show you what we’ll be making. Arcbeatle Press will be publishing old and new stories, and bringing the universe of WARS to a brand new audience. Helping me out is one of the Lead Editors of Arcbeatle Press, Jo Smiley, who was right there with me having late night chats about our dreams with WARS. Jo and I have always had big dreams with telling stories, and with WARS. Jo has written for Arcbeatle Press, Shotgun Angel Games, and Boundless Endeavors, Inc., and we’ll be pouring our shared experience and passion into this. In their own words: "When I was in college, the WARS roleplaying game was one of the things that kept me from totally falling apart, and the friends I made through it are still my friends today. So I'm extremely excited to hear that there is going to be new material published! I can't wait to be a part of it and let it help me explore the universe once again." So the future is Under Construction (and if you haven’t read our new story, you can find it here: http://www.jameswylder.com/wars.html ), so be patient, and look ahead. We’ll be working hard to make that future a brighter one. This journey has been a long one, and a tough one, so there’s a lot of people we should thank. So, probably missing many people, I’d like to say thank you to:
Jordan Stout, Miguel Ramirez III, Taylor Elliott, Jo Smiley, Rosalie Derk, Elizabeth Tock, Emmeryn Telemain Reed, David Koon, Patrick Blaker, Rosa New, Nathan Kramer-Herman, Jon Ward, Ashey Nichole Sims-Cleavland, John Cleaveland, Brandi Hornbuckle, Andrea Paul-Bonham, Mary Beringer, Thomas Jones, Ellie Fairfield, Dan Alejos, Kyle Edge, Meghin Clark, Olivia Hinkel, Colby McClung, Joshua Anderson, Phil Walker, Anthony Forthhofer, Spencer Sholty, Walker Roberts, Annie Bladen, Gara Gaines, and all the other folks who brought me so many memories and joys during our time together. Rebecca Jacob, Gwen Ragno, Simon Bucher-Jones, Eric Asher, Lauren Jankowski, Stuart Douglas, Niki Haringsma, Nate Bumber, Jacob Black, Sam Maleski, Hunter O’Connell, Charles Whitt, Ruth Long, Mark Fearnow, Genevieve Clovis, Evan Forman, Michael Robertson, Tycho McPhee Letts, Kevin Burnard, Rob and Martha Southgate, Chris Mau, Luther Siler, Kathy Barbour, James Bojaciuk, Corey Roth, Damon Null, my parents, sisters, and brother in law, and everyone else who believed in me or Arcbeatle Press and helped us get here. Josh and Kasandra Radke, Nathan Patrick Butler, Sean E. Williams, Jim Perry, Sabrina Friend, Bryan Thomas-Schmidt, Joshua Anderson, Brian Hickey, Chuck Kallenbach, Mark Tuttle, Michael A. Stackpole, Bryan Borgman, Michael O’Brien, Marianne Plumridge, Warren Holland, Tim Ellington, and all the other folks who worked on WARS who have been kind to me over the years. Plus, all the many fans of WARS and Arcbeatle Press who have believed in us. You rock. We’ll get to work then. See you on the other side of the rift, -James Wylder Publisher at Arcbeatle Press
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Welcome back! We sure left off on a cliffhanger huh? Though if you don't know what we mean: maybe go and check out episode 1: http://www.jameswylder.com/blog/lady-aesculapius-episode-1 Well, we're back, and we're onto a new adventure...so without further adieu, let's get onto a new tale by me, James Wylder. If you like Lady Aesc, you can support us on Patreon at http://www.patreon.com/jameswylder If you're into podcasts, you can find Lady Aesc stories as podcasts at: http://ladyaesculapius.libsyn.com
You never forget the first time you die. It happens very early after you’re born, that is if you’re a Firmament. Lady Aesculapius could still remember being born, falling out of her cloning tube, scratching at the skin over her eyes, mouth, nose, ears…she flailed on the cold floor, till the attendant came over and slit her eyelids and mouth open. “Welcome to the multiverse,” she’d heard someone say, “now let’s get you toweled off, you have to fill out some forms.” She was guided to a group of other doughy-eyed people, fresh out of their tanks, clothed only in a towel, eyes bright, taking in everything now that they existed, and smiling at each other. “Hello!” a man said, “Wow, look at all these new faces!” He stretched his arms out wide, expecting a laugh, though Lady Aesc just smiled and blinked, having never heard a laugh in her life yet. The man sighed, “Well, as you all can see, the soul-bonding worked spectacularly. You’re the newest members of the Firmament, each of you with a firm (he chuckled) role to play in keeping the 10,000 Dawns running like clockwork. Now, sorry to say this, but even though we’ve been at this for a while, there are still some problems with the creation process, I’m afraid, and your first bodies, like all of ours, have some issues from the soul-bonding process. Hence the whole...face being covered in skin thing. You all looked faceless, and it creeps me out everytime. But look, I’m mainly here from the council to welcome you and apologize. Because well, we’re going to have to transfer you to new bodies right off. So, you know, sorry.” They stared up at him, smiling and blinking, as the Enforcers of Knives slipped out from the shadows and slit every single one of their throats. Lady Aesc clutched her throat, gasping, crying, and then she died. She woke up floating in a tank, now with proper eyelids and lips, and found herself sliding out of the tube, coughing onto the floor. “There you go. We all have a false start there, miss, but welcome to the world for real now…” the man checked a tablet, “Aesculapius.” It was with more grace and experience that Lady Aesculapius fell coughing to the floor this time, but she still remembered that first death. Her limbs were covered in the artificial amniotic fluid this new body had grown in, and behind her, dozens of her future bodies hung in their own solution, brainless and immobile. Around her, millions of other bodies were just the same, floating in their own jars. “Hello, fancy seeing you here,” a voice said, and Lady Aesc looked up, the liquid dripping down from her hair blurring her vision. “You came out of there faster than I thought. Too bad.” Then the cudgel came down on her head, and she died again. And she felt her soul, if you can call it a soul, falling, and flying, and she dropped onto the floor again, sputtering fluid, gasping for air, crawling through shards of glass. Why was her tank broken? “Get Enforcers in here now!” someone yelled, and a figure bolted, vanishing in a flash. Aesc felt held, someone pulling her up, wiping the solution from her eyes, pulling glass from her hands, and wrapping her in a towel. She was surrounded by robed Firmament, the people of her home planet, and they seemed panicked. “Do you know who attacked you?” one of them asked her. “There was a box, I opened the box, and it wasn’t a present, at least not a very good present. Honestly they need to take a class on birthdays if that’s their idea of--” “When you arrived, someone attacked you and killed you again, correct?” She nodded, “I don’t know who. I didn’t see them. Just heard them...” “Damn,” the Firmament rubbed her forehead, “I don’t want you to panic, but they smashed your resurrection tanks. The bodies you’ve had in storage are...” Aesc turned around. They weren’t kidding. The dozens of tanks, stretching far back into the seemingly endless room were all...smashed. The bodies ready to resurrect her upon dead lying scattered. “By the faceless gods,” she gasped. “I know this has to be a shock, but...we need to know your name. They destroyed the markers on your tanks.” “My name is...” There was a roar of wind, and the glass and blood on the ground shifted to form perfectly legible words: |
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A glowing purple spear pushed into her back, willing her forward. Her face was covered by a black ceremonial mask, forcing her to place her trust in the guards to guide her way. The bridge to Castle Death was suspended hundreds of feet above a sea of skulls. The history of the Ghenthar system's wars and rebellions and massacres were written in the sea's geological layers. The only thing each generation of skulls had in common was that each and every one of them had, in their final day, made the unseeing walk to Castle Death's doors.
The prisoner was marched into the castle, through its cold stone halls, and up to its tallest turret. The heavy double doors creaked open unassisted and the prisoner was welcomed by the sound of a single pair of slowly clapping hands.
"Here she is at last!" The Queen of Death rose from her throne and made her way down a small flight of stairs. Her long dark dress flowed around her ankles and disguised her legs completely, making her look almost as though she were gliding. The room as lined with a balcony filled with more guards, each pointing a high-power laser gun at the prisoner. From beneath the mask, the prisoner heard the double doors close behind her.
The Queen smiled as she approached. "You, my dear, have caused me far too much trouble. You ought to be commended. Breaking into the royal armoury. Stealing from my private vaults. Slaying my pet dragon. Ripping pages from the Secret Books of Tyrron. It's an honour to finally meet you...Lady Aesculapius."
With a flourish, she removed the prisoner's mask. Lady Aesculapius blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light. She wore a deep blue frock coat and a scarf patterned with hedgehogs. She tried to reach to her head but was quickly reminded of the handcuffs behind her back. "I don't seem to be wearing my hat."
"Hat?" the Queen repeated. "Oh." She banged on the ceremonial mask a few times and a grey slouch cap fell onto the floor. The Queen of Death picked it up, made a hollow attempt to wipe the dust from it, and placed it on Lady Aesculapius's dark hair.
Lady Aesc smiled. "Thanks. I must say, Planet Death is strangely...accommodating."
"We're already going to execute you. No need to be mean about it," the Queen smirked.
"Quite! By the way, LOVE what you've done with the place. The sea of skulls? Really intimidating."
"Thank you. Given your interest in it, I shall grant you knowledge that only the dying are given access to." The Queen leaned in to Lady Aesc. "Most of those skulls out there? Imported."
Lady Aesc gasped. "Shut up!"
"It's true," the Queen nodded. "There's no way we could realistically execute enough people to fill a whole sea, even with the amount of multi-headed persons we've had through these halls. Every now and then we buy in a bunch more skulls to make up the numbers."
"You filled a whole sea with skulls JUST for the aesthetic?" asked Lady Aesc. "Ugh, slay me Queen!"
"I intend to." The Queen of Death removed a knife from her sleeve and turned to face her audience. "Behold! Upon this day, beneath the sixth moon of Zarok, I hereby sentence Lady Aesculapius to-"
The jaunty slap bass of the Seinfeld theme echoed through the room.
The Queen turned to Lady Aesc.
"Sorry about this, hold on." A small click and Lady Aesc's handcuffs fell off. The guards jumped into a readied position as the prisoner reached into her coat pocket. Slowly, she retrieved the source of the Seinfeld theme and answered the call. "Hey, it's Aesc."
A mumbled, frantic voice on the other side of the phone spoke.
Lady Aesc was enthralled. "No WAY. Oh my god, shut up! Really?"
The Queen tried to hear what the voice was saying but couldn't hear more than a whisper.
"Oh my god, I'll be there right now. Honestly, I'm coming. See you soon. Okay? Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye. No, shut up! You're so bad. Okay, bye. Bye. Bye."
Lady Aesculapius hung up and slipped the phone back into her blue frock coat. "Sorry Your Royal Maj, I have to head off now. I'll have to fast-forward my escape plan."
"KILL HER! Nobody can escape the tower!" bellowed the Queen.
The guards all pointed their laser guns at Lady Aesc and pulled the trigger. The entire balcony exploded. Laser guns and bits of guard clattered to the ground, leaving only Lady Aesc and the Queen of Death alive.
Lady Aesc smiled. "Remember how you said I'd broken into the royal armoury?" She tipped her messenger bag upside down and over 200 plasma bullets fell out. "I may have been a bit naughty and replaced all the ammo with explosives."
The Queen opened her mouth in protest but was too impressed to form words.
"However, there is one tiny mistake in what you said. I didn't slay your pet dragon. I just...relocated it. Right now it's stumbling its way through the catacombs and should be in position around about-"
A deafening roar shook the ground beneath them. The Queen of Death's wrist communicator lit up. "Ma'am! The dragon is loose in the castle! It's AAAAAA-" Static.
"There's my cue," said Lady Aesc. "Looks like not everyone who crossed the bridge into Castle Death dies the same day."
She turned and walked back the way she'd been brought. Once she was outside the castle, she reached into her coat pocket and retrieved a small crystal ball. She smiled and opened a portal.
"I'm coming, Jason."
LADY AESCULAPIUS
IN
EPISODE I
JASON AND THE ASTRONAUTS
BY MICHAEL ROBERTSON
"Where've you been?" The man behind the counter slopped a ladle of mashed potato onto Jason Jackson's tray. "Eating late?"
"Been up all-night working on the central heating." Jason was a young man in his mid-20s, with dark curly hair and a strong jawline. There was a distant echo of a Geordie accent in his voice. "Think I've got it sorted now."
The man behind the counter covered the mash with a ladle of peas. "Surely they've got someone in maintenance who can see to all that."
"Yeah, well, back at Jarrek & Jarrek's shipyard, that someone was me. Gotta help where I can."
"Hey!" A woman appeared by Jason's side. She had her blonde hair tied into a bun and was holding out an identical tray for an identical meal.
"Hey Cassie. Anything fun outside?"
"Depends what fun means. To you, probably nothing. Lots of darkness. To me, lots of fun nerd things."
Jason looked around the room for a table while waiting for Cassie's tray to fill up. "I like nerd things too you know. That's why I'm here."
"Yeah, but to you that’s sweeping alien vistas. I want funny-looking new particles I can name." Cassie led Jason through the bustle of people to a table in the corner.
A man and a woman were already sitting there, and their faces lit up when Cassie approached.
"Jason, this is Nagi Hikawa and Mia Santos," said Cassie, trying to gesture while holding her tray. "This is Jason Jackson."
Everyone murmured a hello to each other as Jason and Cassie sat down. "What department are you in, Jason?" asked Nagi. He was clearly the oldest of the group, with some light flecks of grey in his dark beard.
"Engineering. Trained to be a pilot ages ago but got stuck doing maintenance jobs. Still, now I’m finally here, I’m actually off having adventures!"
“Jason’s new,” Cassie explained. “He was picked up on our last Earth stop.”
“Ah, welcome aboard,” said Mia. “I’m sure we’ll have lots of adventures from the engineering department. That’s where I’m stationed too. I’m sure we’ll keep busy.”
The four barely had time to finish their lunch before a siren told them to make their way back to the bridge.
The double doors hissed as they electronically slid open. Jason, Nagi, Cassie, and Mia took their seats in the wide, hexagonal room, dotted around the periphery at control panels and work stations. Jason typed his username and password into the terminal, got rejected, tried again, got rejected, requested a new password, went into his email account, got the code to verify his identity, typed his new password into both fields, typed his username and new password into the terminal, and logged in.
With a smile on his face, he leaned back in his chair and out the large window ahead of him. Every star in the sky looked beautiful. He wanted to be the first out of the solar system, to seem them all. The silver Centro ship hung motionless in space, awaiting the arrival of its captain.
The doors hissed open again and Captain Jessica Zhane entered the room. There was a drop in idle chatter and everyone sat-up straight over their terminals, looking busy, as Zhane took her place in the captain’s chair. “Ms Santos,” she said over her shoulder to Mia. “Have final checks been completed?”
“Yes captain, we’re good to go.”
“Mr Jackson, all engines functioning?”
“Yes captain,” said Jason. “All four engines primed.”
The captain smiled. “Prepare to engage.”
The tension built as switches were flipped, buttons were pressed, and lights flashed. As everyone in the room completed their individual processes, they slowly turned their attention to the large lever sitting in front of Nagi.
Captain Zhane nodded. “Punch it.”
Nagi pulled the lever.
Nothing.
A clank.
Jason looked really closely at the field of stars in front of him. If he focused on just one of them, he could tell that, yes, the ship WAS moving forward.
“Woo hoo!” Captain Zhane laughed. “Well, that was all very Star Trek. I hope someone does invent a warp drive one day. Can I interest anyone in a coffee?”
Jason slumped down in his chair a little as he was hit by a wave of second-hand embarrassment for the ship. Grand space adventure, here he comes.
“I’ll have an espresso,” said Nagi.
“Ooh, good choice. Mia?”
“A latte, please.”
“Cassie?”
“Decaf.”
“Chuck?”
“A flat white.”
“Kevin?”
“A caramel macchiato.”
“Jason?”
“On it.” Jason Jackson heaved himself out of his chair and made his way back to the cafeteria with everyone’s order.
It felt like hours before they actually found something, and in that time, he’d gone to get coffee more times than he’d have liked just to fight away boredom.
“Captain,” said Mia, relieved to finally have something to say. “I’m picking up something on our scopes.”
“Ooh!” Zhane sat forward. “Let’s have a look-see.”
Off in the distance, drifting aimlessly through space, was a big lump of something or other. As they drifted towards it, it looked less like a random lump and more like a distinct shape, with straight edges and corners. Something designed. A ship?
“Enhance.”
“Um, I can’t captain, the image is already the highest resolution it can be,” said Mia.
Zhane paused. “No, no, I mean…make it bigger. Zoom.”
Mia pushed a button and the image on the screen zoomed in. Everyone watched in confused silence as the object slowly tumbling through nothing was revealed to be a building. An ancient Greek temple, white and stone and lined with mighty pillars connecting a base with steps to a triangle roof.
Captain Zhane looked around at the reactions of her crew. “Is…this a joke?”
“I mean…” Mia tapped some buttons. “The fact that it’s out there might be a joke, but what the scanner shows is real. There really is a Greek temple flying through space.”
Zhane tapped her nails on the armrest of her chair. “Well that’s just silly. Is it a ship, done up to look like a temple? Or some sort of…I don’t know, publicity stunt for something? Try hailing it.”
Mia tapped more keys. “Strange. Doesn’t seem to have any receiver. I think it’s actually made of stone captain. And…” She leaned in to her terminal. “Captain! That thing is on a collision course with Mars!”
“What? How long?”
“Two hours before it reaches the edge of the Martian atmosphere at its current rate.”
“Right.” Zhane clasped her hands together. “We’ll send an away team. Ms Mia Santos, Mr Jason Jackson, Mr Nagi Hikawa, Dr Cassie Richards, and myself will go in to investigate. Once we’re sure what that thing is doing in the depths of space and that there’s no-one on board, we’ll return here and blow it out of the sky before it reaches Mars. Two hours, people.”
The five suited up and drifted towards the temple in the ship’s detachable shuttle. Jason hoped the object floating through space towards Mars would start to make sense at a certain distance. Perhaps the words ‘April fools!’ would become visible on its side as they got closer. But nope. The sight of the ancient Greek temple unmoored from the Earth and tumbling through the stars remained just as baffling up close.
Jason had a thought. “Captain?”
“Yes, Mr Jackson?”
“I have this friend who travels about a bit, knows about all kinds of strange stuff. I could call her up about this if you like.”
Captain Zhane frowned. “You mean, someone outside of Centro?”
“Well, yes captain, but she’s helped Centro before. That’s how I first met her, see-”
“Thanks for the thought, Mr Jackson, but we can’t just go bringing civilians into this.” She turned back to the shuttle’s front window and muttered under her breath. “Think of the paperwork.”
The shuttle ‘parked’ outside the temple, and the five led by Zhane threw themselves out the airlock to gracefully float towards its entrance. Jason was surprised by how noisy the suits were; the small radio in his helmet meant he could hear four breathing mouths in his ears along with his own.
The first surprise came when the five astronauts passed above the white marble steps: they fell.
Their feet were sucked down onto the steps and they felt they could stand on them as if they had gravity below them.
“What was that?” asked Mia. “Did one of you turn on our gravity clamps?”
“No…” Jason jumped up and down in place a few times. “It’s not the suits. I think this temple has its own gravity.”
Cassie looked up at the shining white marble towering above her. “That means there’s technology here. So, it MUST be a ship, right?”
“It’s strange,” said Nagi, climbing the steps after Zhane. “It looks so authentic. From up close, it looks almost genuine Greek. Maybe…7th Century BC?”
“Mr Hikawa, please refrain from flexing your degrees,” said Captain Zhane with a smile over her shoulder. “It’s just a good replica. It’ll be some sort of custom-made ship. Someone who likes to travel in style. Shall we?”
Together, Nagi and Zhane pushed the mighty doors to the temple open. They both pushed a little too hard due to the shock of having gravity in the middle of space. The sturdy doors opened into a large hall lined with pillars which led to an altar. In alcoves in the walls were marble statues.
Cassie and Mia shut the doors behind them. “Well, we wouldn’t want to let in a draught, would we?” said Cassie, answering Jason’s bemusement.
“Weird statues,” said Nagi, gesturing to the alcoves. “Well...weird everything.”
“Oh my god,” said the captain, checking the readings on her suit. “This says the air in here is breathable. A breathable air shell being held together inside a building made of stone. Still, don’t take off your helmet, it might be-” She turned around to see all four members of her team awkwardly breathing without their helmets on.
“Sorry,” said Jason. “I thought ‘you can take your helmet off if you want’ was subtext.”
Captain Zhane sighed and popped her own helmet off. “Oh, whatever. This place is so weird, I LOVE it! Any theories?”
“Everything about this place checks out,” said Nagi. “Authentic Greek architecture. I think, somehow, this is a real Greek temple from Earth. But there aren’t a lot of them still standing.”
“Unless…” said Mia, trying excitedly to prompt a reaction, but seeing as nobody else was having it, she dived straight in: “Time travel! Bringing the temple here from the past! Or: magic.”
“That’s…” Nagi shook his head. “Completely ridiculous.”
“You’re right,” said Cassie. “Ridiculous…this place is kitted out with a gravity generator and a localised oxygen field, so if anything, it would’ve time travelled in from the FUTURE!”
Captain Zhane watched them with her hands on her hips. “Centro’s best and brightest. Jason, what’s your theory? Jason?”
“Oh, sorry,” said Jason, hanging up. “Was just making a quick phone call.”
The doors burst open and Lady Aesculapius flew through them triumphantly. “It’s parallel universe bullshit!”
“Lady Aesculapius!”
“Jason Jackson, as I live and breathe!” She charged straight for him and lifted him off the floor in a hug. “How’s it going, my ace pilot! Look at you, exploring space with Centro, just like you wanted!”
“And who the hell might you be?” said Captain Zhane with a raised eyebrow. Mia, Cassie, and Nagi all decided it would be best to give this madness some room.
“My name is Lady Aesculapius, but you can shorten it to Aesc!” she said, assaulting Zhane with a vigorous two-handed handshake. “The ‘Aesculapius’ part I mean, not the ‘Lady’ part. I’m here to help with this temple problem.”
Captain Zhane’s eyes widened. “You…Lady Aesculapius! My wife told me all about you!”
“Oh? And do I know your wife?”
“Captain Rita Andros. You met her, and I presume Jason, during a shipyard-based incident?”
“Ah! Yes, I did! Blimey, there’s a call-back. So, what’ve you been doing with yourself?” she asked Jason.
“Oh, nothing much,” he said. “Went back to working at Centro, got moved around to a few different jobs in a few different places, ended up on the crew of a ship!”
Lady Aesc beamed in pride, but before she could say anything, Nagi interrupted. “Listen, everyone, this is a time-sensitive situation. This temple is drifting towards Mars.”
“Yes, it is! I didn’t catch your name.”
“Nagi Hikawa.”
“Amazing to meet you Nagi. Since I got your call Jason, I backed up a bit and did some background digging.” Lady Aesc turned to the others. “I’m like an alien with a ship that can time travel, move freely through space, and go to parallel universes.” She pulled a face and did a little head-wobble as if to say “It’s a whole thing.”
“Find anything useful?” asked Jason.
“Get this: this temple is from a different universe. It travelled here from about 11 dimensions diagonally down from the Prime universe.” She took a small crystal ball the size of a tennis ball out of her frock coat. “Will we see who sent it?” She once again turned to address everyone who wasn’t Jason. “This small crystal ball is my ship by the way, it’s called a Factory of Crystal, or a Foce, and it can shrink or grow to the size of a small moon and open portals from here to anywhere.” She held up the crystal ball, and a glowing white portal opened.
“Whoa!” said Mia. “It IS magic!”
Lady Aesc smiled. “Off we go!” She grabbed Jason by the hand and together they ran into the portal.
Mia followed them through immediately.
“Wait, hang on!” Cassie was the next one in, followed reluctantly by Nagi.
Captain Zhane stood alone and sighed. Relinquishing control of the mission and the entire book, she stepped through the portal.
Light greens and blues and pinks swirled in front of her eyes as she felt herself leaving the temple behind and travelling to somewhere new. Through the vortex of light, she swore she could see the words ‘Lady Aesculapius’ looming out at her, and a cluster of stars formed an image of the strange woman’s smiling face.
Zhane emerged behind her crew on the edge of a rocky cliff. The portal closed and the six of them stared out at the brilliant new horizon.
Golden rays of sunlight pierced the clouds and shone down on a glittering city by the sea. The city was white and gold and covered in mighty turrets. In the distance, a mountain rose high into the clouds. Unable to see the top, Jason thought it might have gone up forever.
“Right,” said Lady Aesc. “First of all, Big Mood. Second of all, everyone, welcome to another dimension.”
Cassie blinked in disbelief. “You know what Jason? Your ‘sweeping alien vistas’ are alright.”
Nagi shook his head and tried to stammer out words. “I just…I don’t believe it.”
“How boring of you,” Lady Aesc sulked. “That temple was sent to our universe, the Prime universe, from here: reality number 5862 - 68/7 - Pod - Beetroot/50.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Jason.
Lady Aesculapius smiled. “Remind me to take you to universe 5862 - 68/7 - Pod - Baguette/70 some time. That’s where things really start popping off.”
“It’s an invasion,” Zhane said grimly, considering what her own words might mean. “An attack on Mars from another dimension.”
“Quite possibly. Come on!” Lady Aesc bounded down a small ridge to a path. “The city will have the answers!”
Captain Zhane and her crew trailed behind, taking in the scenery with wide eyes and camera phones. Up ahead, Jason and Lady Aesc walked side-by-side.
“It’s so good to see you,” said Jason. “You’ve only been back for five minutes and already this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me since you dropped me off.”
“Getting your life back on track not going so well?”
“Oh it is, it’s just that the track is too long. I’m finally out there exploring the stars like I wanted, but nothing is happening.”
“I dunno,” said Lady Aesc, gesturing around them as they entered the outskirts of the city. “This right here is pretty exciting.”
Jason looked around at the towering buildings around him. The new ground under his feet. “I always see the most amazing things with you.”
“Now that you’ve had a proper chance to think about it,” said Lady Aesc, “the offer to come travel with me is always open. Anytime.”
Jason smiled. “Yeah, I think I-”
The ground shook. A deafening thunderous BOOM from above, and deep red cracks shattered the sky itself.
“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!” shouted Captain Zhane.
“That’s…” Lady Aesculapius removed her brass spyglass from her coat and looked up at the cracks. “That’s a dimensional rift. This whole reality is shattering.”
“Because they tried to invade our dimension?” asked Cassie.
“Possibly.”
An electronic hum made them all turn. A small robot which also seemed to be made of white marble hovered up to them. Its single black lens focused in on them, then a gold plate on its top opened and the six were engulfed by a bright orange light.
The light cut out and they were somewhere else.
They stood in the centre of a large cavern underground, with a ceiling so high they could barely see it. The most striking feature of this cavern were the rows and rows of identical white temples.
“Oh, what fresh hell is this?” said Captain Zhane.
“Hey, those temples are just like the one we came from,” said Mia.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The group turned to see a man with a clipboard striding towards them. “Why were you six just wandering around out there, didn’t you see the alert? Get in, quickly!” He gestured aggressively to the nearest temple.
“Hi, I’m Lady Aesculapius,” said Lady Aesculapius. “Could you explain what’s going on as if we’ve just arrived here from another dimension.”
The man stopped, then looked terrified. “Y-you’re from another dimension? Are you…who are you? Why are you here?”
“We came here from the Prime un-I mean, Dawn 0. A temple, like these ones here, drifted into our universe and is heading on a collision course with one of our planets. Mars,” she hastily added, in case he had it on his clipboard.
“Oh,” he relaxed. “These aren’t temples, they’re preservation units. We’re evacuating this reality before it collapses. Something from another reality is tearing us apart, we need to pack up and go somewhere more stable. For a minute there, I thought you were…one of them.”
“Wait, hang on,” said Mia. “This other universe is being attacked by another other universe? We thought our universe was being attacked by YOUR other universe. This is awkward.”
The ground shook again and another BOOM echoed far above.
“How is this possible?” Lady Aesc looked around frantically for any of those red cracks. “How can another universe be tearing yours apart?! Wait, no, one thing at a time.” She gestured with her Factory of Crystal and a white portal opened. “You lot, get back to our universe,” she said to Captain Zhane and her crew. “You need to find a way to move that temple preservation unit thing out of a collision course with Mars WITHOUT destroying it.”
“Oh, it should do that by itself,” said the man with the clipboard. “The onboard computer should direct it down for a safe landing. No harm will come to your planet OR the people in that temple.”
“’The people’?” Zhane asked. “What people, there’s no one in there.”
BOOM. The room shook.
“No more questions,” said Lady Aesculapius. “I’ve made a mistake bringing you here, so please go, be safe.”
Zhane nodded and waved her crew through the portal. Nagi was the first in, followed by Mia and Cassie. “Come on Jason,” Zhane beckoned.
He shook his head. “I’m staying with Lady Aesculapius.”
Captain Zhane frowned. “You work for Centro, recruit. You could be seriously reprimanded for abandoning your post.”
Jason thought for a moment. “Yeah, but, fuck it.”
Zhane blinked, then smiled. “Oh. Oh, I like you. You’re bad.” She turned to the portal. “If anyone asks, I’ll say you’re on leave.” And with that, she stepped into the light and the portal vanished.
Lady Aesculapius took his hand. “Lady Aesc and Jason Jackson, back together. Off we go!”
“Where to?”
“The other-other universe. We need to stop the this-other universe from being destroyed.”
“I hope Jason will be alright,” said Mia.
“He will be,” said Cassie. “He seems to get on well with this Lady whatever person.”
Captain Zhane looked around at the temple. “So, this is a ‘preservation unit’ from another universe. What does that mean? And where are all these people he mentioned?”
“Found them.”
The group turned to Nagi, who was standing in the corner of the room, studying closely one of the marble statues in the alcoves. There was a metal ring around its base that had a faint orange glow to it, getting brighter and dimmer like a slow pulse.
Nagi faced his captain. “They’re not statues.”
Mia approached. “You mean…suspended animation? So, this temple, and all those others we saw, are filled with people being sent out to other universes to find new homes.”
Captain Zhane laughed. “I can’t believe I have a Lady Aesculapius story now. Wait until Rita hears about this.”
“What do you need?” Lady Aesc asked.
“Time,” said Mr Clipboard. “This world is the only known populated planet in the whole dimension that still hasn’t fully evacuated yet. We just need a bit longer.”
“Leave that to us, come on Jason!”
“You can’t stop it,” Mr Clipboard shouted after them. “Everyone’s tried. Once they decide to erase your universe, nothing can stop them.”
Lady Aesculapius smiled. “I think you’ll find I haven’t tried yet.”
She grabbed Jason’s arm as the Foce left her hand. It seemed to grow and shrink impossibly quickly as the pair faded into it. Jason blinked a few times before finding himself in the Factory of Crystal’s control tower. The stunning crystal room, with walls that shone blue and green and pink and purple, housed several short control terminals that grew from the floor. Lady Aesc rushed around them, hitting buttons and flicking switches, as Jason’s head spun.
“I’ve missed this so much,” he smiled. “Wait. The Factory of Crystal is tiny right now, the size of a tennis ball. So, we’ve-”
“Shrank? Yes. We’re tiny right now but so is the Factory, so everything looks normal size. Oh, that doesn’t look good though.” Lady Aesc stared open-mouthed at one of the crystal terminals. “That’s…how is that possible? He was right, this whole universe is being wiped out. It’s some sort of energy wave come from…there!”
A siren that rose in pitch uncomfortably sounded all over the Factory, and the calm blue crystal clouded over and turned a violent shade of red.
“Yes, yes I know!” shouted Lady Aesc. The new colour of everything slightly disoriented Jason, who had his hand on a terminal to steady himself. “I know going towards the source is dangerous, but we’re doing it anyway!”
She stabbed a button and the Factory went back to blue. With another stab, a portal opened and she bounded through it.
Jason followed her, and they emerged onto a floating metal platform over a sea of colour. It ran and bubbled like liquid, but when the waves hit each other they shattered like glass. Deep in the waves, Jason swore he could see trees and buildings and ships and swords and shoes and shirts and ties and cottages and cabbages and wagons and flagons of ale and mead and boxes of foxes and barrels of seed and chocolate and fire and lightning and nothing.
“It’s an entire dimension being torn apart.” Lady Aesc stood on the edge, looking down. “All that history. All those people. One planet evacuated in time, yes, but what about the others? All the species in that dimension who aren’t advanced enough to see it coming. They’ll never get that far now.” Her voice sounded empty. There was nothing to be said. But there was something to be done.
She looked at the platform they were standing on. “This must have been put here but the people who did it, so they could house…” she pointed. “That.”
In the middle of the platform was a gold machine, glowing with red energy. Jason and Lady Aesc ran over to it. “Is this what’s destroying the place?”
“Yes, Jason. Some sort of dimension bomb.”
“Can you stop it?”
“Even if I could, this reality is already too far gone. The best we can do is slow it down so more people have a chance to get out safely.”
Something caught Jason’s eye. “Look!”
In the rippling sea of destruction, he could see the city, and the chamber underneath the city, and the last few people being loaded into an empty temple, turning into statues, and blasting off to a new dimension.
“Huh,” said Jason. “That’s how the temples work.”
Lady Aesc pressed a button on the machine and a panel opened. “Ah-ha! I should be able to invert the electrical charge of the proton current to buy them some time!”
The red cracks were getting closer and closer to the city, dragging more of the landscape into the churning sea. “Hurry!”
“Almost got it…almost…there!”
The light in the machine cut out and it started audibly stuttering.
The red cracks around the city stopped spreading. “You did it!”
Lady Aesculapius and Jason Jackson stood side by side next to the terrible machine, and watched as the last temple escaped the collapsing dimension.
Jason couldn’t keep his eye off the mind-bending sight around him. He didn’t see the tear Lady Aesc blinked away.
The Factory of Crystal floated at full scale - the size of a small moon - through the empty hole where a universe had been. A white portal opened and Lady Aesc and Jason stepped out.
“By the way, while I’m remembering,” said Jason. “Why is it that I can kinda see your name and face floating through a vortex every time I step through one of your portals?”
“Mmmm?” Lady Aesc looked up. “Oh, that. Psychic transference. Your brain is intercepting a bit of the link between me and my Factory, so you imagine an image of my face and see what looks like a title card with my name.”
“Huh. Weird.”
Lady Aesc was leaning heavily on one of the terminals, not really focusing on anything.
Jason moved closer to her. “You did everything you could. You saved people today!”
She gave a weak smile, for his benefit. “Whoever did this is still out there. They could do it again. I mean, given there’s an infinite number of universes out there, technically they both are and aren’t out there wiping and not wiping out more universes as we speak.”
“Right,” said Jason. “You can’t look after every reality everywhere all at once. You just have to do what you can where you can, and today that’s what you did.”
Lady Aesculapius thought, and finally smiled for herself. “Thank you. But what we CAN do, is warn others about this threat.”
“Right!” Jason clapped his hands together. “Let’s go. Actually, do you want to open your parcel first?”
Lady Aesc turned. “Parcel?”
“Yeah, over on that crystal…thingy.”
Sure enough, on Lady Aesculapius’ crystal thingy was a small brown parcel. “When did that get there? That wasn’t there before was it?”
“Don’t think so.”
Lady Aesc looked around with narrowed eyes. Nobody seemed to be hiding in the open-plan brightly-lit room they were standing in. Slowly she approached the parcel. She picked it up and shook it. Then she sniffed it. Then she grinned. “Ooh! Secret present! This’ll be fun.” Lady Aesc ripped open the paper and was shot.
Jason jumped. The parcel dropped.
Lady Aesculapius staggered backwards and fell to the ground, bleeding. “Well this is awkward.”
“NO!” Jason screamed and ran to her side, skidding on his knees across the polished crystal floor. “What happened?”
“Trick parcel,” said Lady Aesculapius. “Listen…Jason…”
“OH MY GOD. HOLY FUCK. HOLY FUCKING SHIT I’M SO SORRY HOLD ON IT’LL BE OKAY-”
“Jason…sweetie…just let me get a word in…I’m a Firmament. Firmaments have this whole thing that happens to them when their bodies approach death. It’s a quirk that’s specific to our species, that allows us to carry on. I just want you to tell you that you were fantas-” she burst into a coughing fit. “Ugh, sorry.”
“IT’LL BE OKAY, IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO???”
“Laugh hard. Run fast. Keep warm. I’ll always remember when I was me. Here it comes, wait for it! Here’s the magical process Jason! Keep watching, it’s going to be amazing! Here it comes! I don’t want to go!” She died.
Jason took a step back from her lifeless body.
It remained lifeless. She was dead.
Tears streamed down Jason’s cheeks. He waited for Lady Aesc’s magic trick to happen. He’d been told to wait, so that’s what he did.
Jason Jackson sat cross-legged in the Factory of Crystal, next to the corpse of his friend as the two of them floated through nowhere. Little did he know that in his own universe, far away, Lady Aesc’s trick had worked.
Episode 2: MORTAL GODS
by James Wylder
“You never forget the first time you die.”
The Firmament: the timeless realm of the universe’s all-powerful bureaucrats, supervising every aspect of the universe’s life. Full of grand marble temples and waffle huts, accommodating an infinite stream of immortal denizens, who just pop into a new body every time they die.
Well, that’s how it usually happens.
Because someone is planning a murder. The definitive, no-coming-back-from-it kind.
Meanwhile, Lady Aesc has just arrived back to her homeworld. And she’s going to be stuck there a while.
Things are going to get messy.
Lady Aesculapius Series 1 is part of 10,000 Dawns, and is a publication of Arcbeatle Press.
Lady Aesculapius was created by James Wylder.
All original elements to this story are the property of the author.
All rights Reserved, Arcbeatle Press 2019.
Our cover art is by Anne-Laure Tuduri.
Any resemblance between persons living or dead, fictional characters, and real or fictional events is either co-incidental or has been done within the bounds of parody and/or satire.
In 2017, Arcbeatle Press put out the first of our beloved licensed crossovers between 10,000 Dawns and the Universes of Doctor Who titled Rachel Survived. Since then, we went on to put out two more stories, and I've always thought it would be fun to collect them all in an easy to find way. And so, quietly, we've been putting this collection together. Featuring beautiful art from Anne-Laure Tudori of Auteur, it has all three of these wonderful little crossovers together in one place. Finally! This release, however, is coming ahead of schedule. In the future, I'll be putting together a little online book club event to read through these stories, which was the collection's intended purpose, but some recent events have led myself and others at Arcbeatle Press to decide putting this little collection out now is the right choice to save a lot of time, energy, and stress for many people. And you get an easy way to read them all in one place, so it works out well for all! Look for our little book club event in the future. For now? Just enjoy the good reads! <3 -James
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Join the bohemian adventurer Lady Aesc as she travels through alternate realities with her friend the Jason Jackson, encountering new foes, making new pals, kissing new aliens, and facing a threat like nothing she's ever encountered before...
You can read the stories here, or listen to audio versions from the Southgate Media Group, all for free!
Featuring stories by myself (James Wylder), Michael Robertson, Sam Maleski, Rachel Johnson, Evan Forman, Charles Whitt, Tori Das, and Laine Ferrio, plus original art by Anne-Laure Tuduri.
I've been working hard on this project for months behind the scenes now, and I can't wait to bring it to you. I think you're in for a real treat! -James
For our premiere blog, I'm looking into the 1998 Godzilla movie. If you enjoy it, please support me on Patreon to help keep works like this coming:
By James Wylder
Godzilla is a strange beast, both as a movie and as a creature. A financial success, actually more so than the later American reboot that is now getting a sequel, this movie seemed prime to take over the world before it suddenly didn’t. Its fish-loving monster relegated to the bin of missteps and failures fandoms often throw their unwanted children into. It’s a strange case of a movie doing quite well, and the franchise it was supposed to start simply fizzling out before it began, giving a false memory that the film was always as derided that we now take as gospel. That isn’t to say the movie ever was hailed as brilliant upon its release, but the passage of time hasn’t been kind to it. However, made by some of the world’s least competent conspiracy theorists, the 1998 American Godzilla movie ends up tripping into horrifically accurate future insights about American geopolitical strategies that truly resonate in the post 9/11 world. It’s a movie where it’s oddest decisions make sense when you realize the reason they were put there. It’s an oddity, and it is Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich’s accidental and unloved masterpiece.
The most important aspect of Godzilla (1998) (hereafter referred to as simply Godzilla, with any other films of the same name referred to with the year of their release) is that it is a movie about conspiracy theories and anti-American violence, full stop. I would write the word “terrorism”, but that’s actually something of a misleading road. While Godzilla is certainly a movie that is dealing with the concept of terrorism on American soil, the road it’s taking to get there is going through the history the movie knows about. Godzilla doesn’t know 9/11 will happen, it doesn’t know we will go to war in Iraq, but it’s a movie by the kind of idiots who believe that Shakespeare wasn’t really Shakespeare (categorically untrue), and therefore it’s by the kind of idiots who are right twice a day like a broken clock because they believe everything. You can see this throughout their films, from the atrocious “Anonymous” to the fantastical and fun “Stargate” (which pulls from the ancient aliens conspiracy theory of human history), and so, should it be so surprising that when given the chance to remake a monster in the image they are most interested in, Devlin and Emmerich create their monster in the shape of conspiracy theories?
It shouldn’t be, but the part that throws any expectations off is which conspiracy theories they choose to look into. Godzilla isn’t reinvented in the shape of a cryptid, or aliens, but with a surprising amount of insight into what Godzilla is about, the team looks to conspiracies about America and France’s colonialism and imperialist intervention into world affairs. Godzilla has a token glance at the creature’s nuclear origin in Godzilla (1954), but the true origin of this Godzilla is not in the atomic bomb, but in American and French foreign policy after World War 2.
It might be hard to believe if the directors had any sense of subtlety, but they do not. Still, I’m a bit more surprised this take on the movie isn’t more common: once you watch it through this lens, it’s nearly impossible to see the intention as anything else.
Godzilla through this angle becomes an amalgam of anti-American violence throughout the last few decades. Godzilla is not the Atomic bomb blasting through a city, leaving survivors with skin stained with radiation scars and horrific burns, but a gigantic threat that is somehow impossible for the world’s most powerful military to catch and defeat.
Throughout the film Godzilla constantly disappears, able to hide in plain sight, even though they are the size of a skyscraper. While this Godzilla does not have the fiery atomic breath (or if it does, it barely uses it) of their Japanese counterpart, it has a different superpower: the ability to fall off the grid of a surveillance network so powerful and complete it was supposed to keep America safe against all outside threats.
The Vietnam parallels are the most blatant: Godzilla was a problem created by the French, which America ends up dealing with consequences of. Indeed, the movie’s biggest flaw is that it burdens France with too much responsibility in the problem, treating America as a doughy-eyed fool who is struggling to deal with being dropped into someone else’s mess . But while this is an a naive take that downplays America’s already massive role in world affairs, it does lead to some of the movie’s most striking critiques. While the French are active in the movie, trying to solve the problems they caused, the American military and politicians are stunningly incompetent, working hard to preserve themselves and their own interests above doing what will actually be the best for the people they are supposed to serve. The military uses brute force against a foe that is agile and hides, and makes a great show visibly to the media, while their foe slips through the cracks over and over again. It’s only when the military decides to listen to the scientists who actually have knowledge of how Godzilla works that they are able to have any success at tracking the creature and following them. The assumption on the part of the military that they can simply understand the creature through their gut feelings rather than through any research is played out throughout the film, from the military’s initial assumption it’s a lost dinosaur (ignoring any responsibility of any government in its creation), and on through to the way that once the military assumes they have killed it, they declare “mission accomplished”, and say they’re done.
That Godzilla isn’t dead, and that it laid a bunch of eggs that will hatch into more Godzillas, is simply ignored because it doesn’t fit the narrative that the American military and politicians in the film want to believe. They want to believe the film is over, but it’s not over. We still have two endings to go.
But before we dive into those endings, let’s note how Godzilla is caught: by feeding them fish. This is an important moment in defining their wants in this film, because the creature is not interested in destroying the city. Indeed, it barely destroys anything. Most of the damage to the city is done by the military in trying to stop the creature, rather than by Godzilla themselves. No, Godzilla in this film is motivated by the desire to survive. It simply wants to have a safe place to live. It wants to have a meal to eat. It wants a place to raise its young. And this terrifies the protagonists of the movie. But yes, the endings.
First, we have the fake-out ending after our heroes get the military to blow up the egg nest in Madison Square Garden, complete with our heroes hugging, swelling music, and a sweeping camera shot. But then Godzilla returns, interrupting the ending and everyone’s assumptions. Killing Godzilla does not kill Godzilla, and has only made them angrier because of the death perpetrated against the baby Godzillas. Of course, they kill Godzilla again, but in the post-credits scene we’re shown that one of the eggs survived, and has hatched into a healthy baby.
Godzilla is not a movie where the heroes triumph, it is a sisyphean movie about meddling in international affairs where the consequences of actions that you may not remember or understand return to crush you. Godzilla is a horribly accurate prophecy, a look into how America and other world powers meddled in other countries’ affairs, screaming at the sky that there would be future consequences. Its loose model was the Vietnam war, but its true mirror ended up being the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.
There’s a comforting lie that America planned the 9/11 attacks on itself, a lie that makes no sense when you look into basically any facts about the incidents on September 11th, 2001 (that this sentence might get anyone yelling in the comments is sad in itself), a conspiracy theory which luckily post-dated this movie. Instead, we get a movie made by people who believe everything, and with their broken-clock-twice-a-day correctness realized that maybe the way that western powers had been funding groups to take on their enemies so they wouldn’t have to directly fight them wasn’t a great idea. Godzilla here becomes the Taliban being funded by Ronald Reagan to fight the USSR, but not intentionally. It’s a shadowy prediction of a large problem that ended up having dire consequences. The comforting lie of a 9/11 that America planned gives America power—we were in control the whole time. It’s all part of some larger plan. There is order in the universe, and only the greatest country in the world could have done this! U-S-A!
But the awful truth is in powerlessness, it’s in doing things that are short-sighted for a temporary gain with long term side-effects. It’s the knowledge that the things we dreamed would keep us safe hurt us. Godzilla is both flesh and blood and seemingly mystical, but only because we didn’t take the time to understand it or check up on it after the island it lived on was nuked. We cannot find it despite all our military might, or all our technology, and when we finally manage to it has destroyed buildings, and left us naked and exposed.
Godzilla is an accidental masterpiece. It is a warning we didn’t heed, coated in explosions and jokes. In Godzilla, we find a monster, but that monster is no foreign power, no terrorist, no bad guy. Godzilla is the sins of a government coming back from the past, screaming while we stare baffled at where it came from.
When Godzilla dies at the end of the film, our protagonist Nick Tatopoulos watches the light go out of the creature’s eyes. It’s a strangely moving and uncomfortable moment, because as much as we might want Godzilla to be a monster, all it was trying to do was survive.
Maybe we’ll learn that about other people someday.
I’m James Wylder, I’m an author, an editor, and I live with daily chronic pain. Actually, let’s be clearer: I’m in pain every day, and have been for over ten years. Every few years I get a day where I’m not in pain, and it feels like I’ve had weights lifted from every part of my body, like my brain got a CPU boost. But those are rare treasures, and you can never predict them. When I was 18 I went to see a doctor about my pain and discovered that my neck had an issue, “You have the neck of an 80 year old man,” he said.
“Do you like roller coasters?” he asked.
I replied that I hadn’t been on one.
“That’s lucky, you shouldn’t ever go on one, if you do you could die or be paralyzed.”
A time later I ended up at a theme park with friends, and I felt angry. How could my body betray me like this? I did track and field and cross country! I was a young healthy dude! The doctor couldn’t be right, I had my whole life ahead of me. And in my overly cocky stupidity, I went and found the least intense roller coaster I could at the park. It was for little kids and their parents, and there wasn’t much of a line. I got on, and zoomed up and down, got off, stumbled to a park bench, and spent the next few hours lying down in agony. Eventually my friends came by, and I smiled (while in pain), and got on with my day.
In hindsight, this was emblematic of how I’d live every day of the next ten years. Throughout all of college, I smiled through the pain. Most people had no idea that while I did everything, going on walks, going on dates, running roleplaying sessions, eating meals, I was pushing back a dull pain in my head. I opened up about it a few times, but I quickly learned it was a mistake. When people knew how much pain I was in, they offered me fewer opportunities. I was passed over for things that I thought I’d deserved, and told in private that I had to be so grateful I didn’t get to do my dreams, because I was already dealing with so much. The poor cripple!
So I shut up about it.
And I stopped complaining.
I stopped being honest about it.
I was fine. I’m always fine.
After all, like we said in cross country, if it hurts, fake it till you make it.
For a few years I was a teacher at Elkhart Community Schools, a school disctrict that really respected my work, and while not my chosen career, was a rewarding place to work. My time teaching English under Kerry Donoho as the department chair being a real highlight especially. Getting to teach young people, and be there for them at an important time was something I valued getting to do. At least according to many of my students and teachers I subbed for, I was pretty good at it too.
The biggest problem was that I was in pain every day of that job. I’m not saying that I’m above being in agony throughout the day—of course it’s just a fact of my life. I’m not above working a day job if I need to, or think that being a starving artist is romantic—its very much not. But I was simply not able to care for my body on a day to day basis the way I am doing full-time writing. I can do weird hours, or take my pain medication that makes me practically immobile. I can work from home. I can limit situations that put strain on my body in ways that cause me to be in more pain.
See, thing is that I took a lot of sick days as a substitute teacher. This wasn’t a bad thing—you aren’t penalized for it since you’re just getting paid for every day you go in, but I was often laid up at home just trying to manage the pain that was so great I couldn’t move.
But there was always a dream ahead: I worked hard after work and on weekends to build up my writing business. It was the light at the end of the tunnel: a way out of pain.
I wrote books. I self-published them, and took them on tour. I got publishing offers (they all fell through). I wrote more books. I toured. Touring was a wonderful experience, and I really hope to do more of it. But it was also a lot of pain. There are a lot of picture of me smiling and being really friendly at conventions when I feel like my head is exploding, like my neck is going to tear apart. I loved doing conventions, and I hope to go back to more, but I was often limited on funds and slept on people’s floor’s and couches as I traveled, driving straight to a place after teaching, my body never having the chance to recover during the weekend. But the pain was worth it—I built up a career. Built up a following. Wrote more. Traveled more. Got a live show I hosted in Illinois. Times were good.
But something had to give.
Last year, I had several big health crisises. Along with having an unrelated emergency procedure, my chronic pain began to flare up in big ways. I was in high levels of pain so frequent that Soon, it became clear that I’d need to tour a lot less. I cut down on my appearances, put my live show on hiatus, and focused on trying to do well in other ways. It was hard. But it had to be done.
I didn’t want to though. I still don’t want to. I want to travel. I want to be able to live the life I see other people around me living. I don’t want to shovel down pills when people aren’t looking to get through the day. I don’t want to lie in bed all day. I want to run like I used to—be free out there in the wilds and blaze through the paths in the woods. I want to be free. Because my body is a prison, and I don’t know who my jail-keeper is. But even if it’s a prison, I can still write.
So I write. And I live the best life I can. I live for my work, for the people who care about me and for me, and yes I am getting medical care and working to improve my body in the ways it can be improved. It cannot be cured. I cannot rub peppermint oil on my neck and fix it. But I can make it nicer, and I am.
Still, I fear the possibility that this nicer way of living will end for me. Thanks to my health crisises last year, that possibility hovers over me still. I have long since abandoned the hope I won’t be in any pain (and no, I don’t need your home remedies that won’t work. I’ve probably already tried them) but that doesn’t mean I need to like it, or aren’t bothered by the idea that I’ll have to be in more of it. If my body is a prison, then I still don’t want to get locked up in solitary.
But life goes on. I’ll still smile. Still have good times. Still have friends. If you’ve known me since 2008, you’ve known me as I am now. Nothing has changed except a confession: every thing I’ve done, good or bad. Every smile. Every book. Every favor. Every day out. It’s all the same me. I don’t need or want pity. You don’t need to say you’re sorry. I’ve been like this. It’s me. I’m still here. Literally nothing has changed. If I could do it then, I can still do it now. So don’t you dare baby me.
However, it is also time to admit that perhaps I didn’t start this path on an equal footing. When my pain and health last year nearly ruined me, that was something that most people around me simply weren't dealing with. And I need to accept that this is the body I’ll be living in, and stop pretending it will be anything other than that.
I don’t know what the future holds. But I’m James Wylder, I’m an internationally touring author, and I live with chronic pain. How ya doin?
Featuring stories you loved on Tales By The Blue Light, licensed crossovers with characters from the universes of Doctor Who, and so much more, these are some of my best stories. I can't wait for you to read them.
So let's make these books happen! If we meet these goals, we'll make even more books that backers will receive, so please keep pushing this!
We also have a new updated ebook of the "A 10,000 Dawns Christmas" project for all of you to enjoy! So Christmas in...March? I guess? Well, either way, I hope you enjoy it. -Jim
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The Gendar Conspiracy
By James Wylder
For Anarchic
Vo’lach Prime, a long time ago.
It’s rocketing down through the atmosphere, the resistance making a bright glow against it’s front. It looks like you could make a wish on it, if you were standing down below. Which the Sergeant-Instructor was, though he’d long ago given up on wishes. Ten feet from the ground, the object stops. It cools, the light drizzle hissing off it as it stabilizes, and then there is another wonder. The figure appears tiny, a speck, then grows to the size of a toy, then a full grown woman. She dusts off her dark blue robes, and waves at the Sergeant-Instructor, only her mouth visible from under her beak-pointed hood. He has no time for wonders either.
“Are you the Arbiter of Knives, of the Firmament?” He yells, the wind isn’t particularly conductive to chatter, but his orders were to meet the Emissary of the Firmament on neutral ground, and Vo’lach Prime is about as neutral as it gets today.
“I am, Sergeant-Instructor? Of the--” there’s a gust of wind, and the end of the sentence is cut off, but he knows what she meant. He gestures for her to follow, and they head for the offending site.
The Vo’lach he met with are already there, huddling around the pit. There are two corpses in it. The Vo’lach make room, their six-foot wide frames bustling aside, lightning reflecting off their shiny colorful fur as they shuffle.
“It’s one of yours,” he says evenly.
The Firmament slides down into the pit, and examines the bodies, the orb she rode in on shining a light down onto them, “Well one is, anyway, sort of. They’re a member of the Knights of Sky, who splintered from--”
“They’re from your universes,” he spat back, “you know there’s not supposed to be any interference in our affairs.” He couldn’t believe he was having to lecture this backwater representative. The 10,000 Dawns were the most blighted piece of inter-universal real estate he could imagine. And yet, they kept getting in everyone’s business.
She looked back up at him, then to the Vo’lach, “There were three more of them I see. I’m assuming they took something?”
“Stole,” he corrected.
One of the Vo’lach quivered, “A relic we received from Gendar, supposedly, an ancient urn.”
She frowned, and snapped her fingers. The orb seemed to shrink and absorb the body.
“Well, what do you want me to do?”
“You’re duty-bound to come with me to Gendar, and see if we can find the thieves.”
She sighed, “If that’s my diplomatic duty, then sure. Could you give me a hand--” he walked away towards his ship, and heard the zing as the orb zipped right next to him, and she dropped out again, “I don’t know where Gendar is, I’m not from here you know.”
“Then follow close behind.”
* * *
Gendar was the 17th most interesting archaeological site in it’s home universe. This doesn’t sound too impressive, until you remember that 17th out of a couple trillion is actually a pretty good score. At that point, it’s all the kids who somehow have higher-than-perfect grade point averages competing for who gets to get in the group photo at the end of the year. And sure, Gendar is in the third row off to the left, but it made the picture.
Why Gendar is so interesting, is that there should be no life on Gendar. Completely inhospitable to life, bombarded constantly with radiation from it’s three suns, and coated entirely in sand with no water, Gendar has somehow developed life that is completely native to the planet, while being boringly indistinct from life anywhere else in the universe. Fossil records show that this life developed on Gendar, while every moment of those creature’s existences should have been impossible. That a sapient species who happened to look exactly like ordinary people who happened to have their hair and eyes dyed purple had also developed there, completely independently, was the final straw that drove many an archaeologist into a seething rage. At least fourteen Universities’ archaeology departments had banned discussion on Gendar entirely, and another twenty-eight had declared that they didn’t believe it was real.
This didn’t stop them from vising the planet, however. All across Gendar, roving gangs of archaeologists, anthropologists, and other scientists roamed the deserts, trying to find the secrets to the planet’s existence. There were three main schools of thought: 1. Gendar had a perfectly reasonable explanation for it’s seeming nonsense, and through patience and hard work it can be revealed! 2. Gendar is not real, has never been real, and the real question is how is the illusion of it being real so good, and how can it be uncovered and unmasked. And 3., Aliens.
Drezen Hael was part of the second group, and had been searching the planet for the last three months trying to find proof of it’s non-existence. However, after paying for a few too many over priced bottles of water from the locals to cope with the extreme heat, he was beginning to have suspicions it was real and the whole thing was a tourist trap. He kept these thoughts from the group however, as his funding from the “Gender Is Fake Trust” (nicely acronymed as GIFT) revolved around sticking to the goals of their society, so he rationalized the water as some sort of paid DLC in a massive interactive hologram for the time being. He had just began to work out how the hologram could take the cash he’d brought with him and not just his credit card info, when the man who would kill him approached.
His long blue robes billowed in the wind, it had a beaked hood and the edges were all lined in a fine patterned cloth. One one arm was a messy looking gauntlet, cobbled together to hold crystals in varying sizes over it’s surface. The man didn’t say hello.
“Hello!” Drezen said, “You don’t look like a local, so I’m guessing you’re from another archaeological dig? This site is ours, mind you. We have a permit from the planetary governor--”
Closer, he could see the man was bleeding.
“Do...do you need help? We have a lot of doctors here, but no one who is that kind of doctor, if you catch my drift...” he gave an awkward chuckle. The man stopped, and pulling a hand from where it was supporting the bloody wound on his chest, banged on his gauntlet. “Goddamn thing,” he said. Then looked up at Drezen. His face was bloody too. “You, you’re from this universe right?”
This wasn’t a normal question, even for a space archaeologist. This left Drezen with two possible conclusions to continue from: 1. This man was from another universe. 2. This man was crazy. Upon further thought, he added 3. This man is a bad script in the holographic simulation of Gendar, but he only listed that contractually. “Yes, uh, are you?” the rest of the dig was getting curious, and were beginning to mill slowly towards the visitor.
The man thought for a moment, and then, seemingly coming to resolution, surged forward and grabbed Drezen’s chest with his gauntleted hand. One of the crystals on it glowed, and Drezen frantically tried to pull away from the man’s grip as he felt his life draining from his body. The wound began closing on the man, and started opening up on his own body. The wear and tear of the desert faded from the man, his complexion bolstered, his muscled surged, and Drezen’s corpse dropped to the ground, drained dry as the rest of his team fled. The man looked ahead, and saw his destination. It was easy to see, it was as tall as the sky.
The statue of the goddess.
Where he’d find everything he’d sacrificed for.
With renewed strength, he continued his walk.
* * *
“Well, it’s certainly big,” the Arbiter of Knives said.
“It’s one of the most remarkable feats of engineering in this universe, built using technology that should have been incapable of it’s construction,” Littlejohn replied.
“So, you’re one of those crazy people who think that humans couldn’t have built the pyramids and stuff?” she probed.
“No, they’re just racists. Any idiot who has even a mild sense of people who look different than them having skills can tell the pyramids are obviously built by humans. What I mean is that this statue’s construction doesn’t line up with the archaeological records here at all. Nothing does. There’s not way life developed here, but it did.”
Knives looked at him, her lips pursed and bunching up at the corners.
“What?”
“So, time travelers?”
“We’d know if it was time travelers?”
She scrunched her eyes up, and held both hand up, “Would you?”
He kept walking.
At this time of day, the statue was filthy with tourists. All mulling about, taking pictures and holograms and molecular scans of themselves and any thing that could or would be interesting. Of course, a lot of them weren’t here for the sights to enjoy them, they were trying to glean secrets to prove whether or not the planet was real or some sort of elaborate hoax.
“And over here,” a tour guide said, “you can see the elaborate relief drawings of the Goddess, the God, and that other one, who--” a tourist lept forward, molecular scanner in hand, held out like a ray-gun, and a flat triangle of light scrolled over the engraving.
“It’s period...” she said dejectedly.
“Yes it is,” the tour guide sighed, “now, if you look at the details--”
Littlejohn didn’t need to flash any information, the staff seemed to know who he was, and he and Knives were directed through the throng by a woman in a grey poncho and goggles, her purple hair in a long braid.
“Sorry for the tourists,” she said as they reached the door, “it’s always like this. At least no one tried to deface anything today.”
Littlejohn gave a faint smile, Knives shrugged.
“We’re here about the urn you gifted to Vo’lach prime.”
The woman blinked, “Oh! Oh yes, I’d nearly forgotten, that was ages ago wasn’t it?” She winked, “But I suppose not a big deal for you.”
It was Littlejohn’s turn to shrug, “Do you know if there was any special significance to the urn?”
The woman gave a stuttering laugh, “Uh, let’s go to my office! That’s a cool place. Do you like offices?”
“No,” Knives said.
“Great! Well, we’re going anyway, uh...”
Once inside, things were a lot nicer. Modern lighting seemed to have been part of the original plan of the building, either that or there had been some odd architectural quirk that had meant all of it could be fitted in without looking out of place. Their guide led them to a cozy office, with wood paneling halfway up the wall, and the upper half and ceiling painted to look like the sky, where she promptly flipped a picture on the desk over as they entered. “Not every day we get visitors from two such noble groups as your own…I know Littlejohn, of course, but I don’t know you I’m afraid?” She pulled up her goggles, revealing her purple eyes, and slid into the desk. Behind her was a portrait of a quartet of musicians playing string instruments. Littlejohn and Knives slid into chairs in front of her.
“I’m the Arbiter of Knives,” she answered.
“I’m Virtuoso, I’m in charge of the Historic Preservation Society.”
“Again? I thought you’d retired?” Littlejohn asked.
She laughed awkwardly, “Whaaaat? Um…” she shuffled some papers on her desk, “Yeah, they brought me back, after the incident where that empire of cyborg thingies tried to conquer us they decided they needed my experience again.”
“...For the Historic Preservation Society,” Knives deadpanned.
“That’s the name of the planetary government here,” Littlejohn clarified.
“So, the urn,” Knives said, impatiently.
“Yeah, uh, so that urn. I gave it to the Vo’lach cause we’re pals!”
“And?” Littlejohn turned his palm up.
“...Uh, turns out it’s actually a secret key to a sealed off area of the temple statue thing!”
Littlejohn stared her down.
“Which I didn’t know.”
Continued eye contact.
“Maybe I knew!”
An eyebrow raised.
“I knew okay! I just wanted it off the planet,” she spun around in her chair, “It’s not as easy running a planet as it looks okay. It was an eyesore, for one, and for two it worried me.”
“So you put the Vo’lach in danger.”
Her smile slowly pulled into an overly wide view of her teeth.
“You’re not going to...investigate me, right?”
Littlejohn pursed his lips.
Virtuoso probably would have said something else unintentionally incriminating, but it was at that point that the man reached the statue of the goddess, and people began dying.
* * *
There was a line. He tried to keep his patience. Certainly, he could wait. He’d waited longer. But the desert had sucked away his patience, and the betrayal he’d suffered had put him on a knife’s edge. They’d gone into this together, and now she and Artillo had thought they could remove the excess members of their conspiracy. And, well, they had, nearly. But he knew where they’d be going next. Gendar was always the next stop. And it was a goddamn tourist trap.
“These shirts are cheaper than the gift shop, get em before it’s too late! Supplies are limited! You want one sir?”
He didn’t. He tried to avoid the man’s gaze. He tried to keep his temper under control. These idiots. These idiots! His hand shook, the gauntlet rattled. He had to keep control. The vendor held the shirt up to him. On the shirt was a close up of the face of the Statue of the Goddess.
He looked at that face.
He knew that face.
And his temper broke.
He didn’t really remember what he did, getting through to the door. Streams of red danced around him as he pulled on life, strung it out and cut life from bodies, carving a path to the door, and then blasting it down with a shot of white light from his gauntlet.
He stepped into the temple, and charged through anyone in his way.
He knew where he was going. And it was probably too late.
* * *
“Ma’am! An attacker has entered the temple!” a guard yelled, throwing the door to the office open. Virtuoso sprung out of her chair, and her guests followed as they ran out, following the guard as he briefed them on the casualties, and Virtuoso yelled orders into a communicator.
“Where are we going?” Littlejohn yelled.
“Where the urn goes!” she replied.
The urn was there when they arrived, placed into an indentation into a relief, which had swung open to reveal a small storage space containing a small pile of papers, and one paper taped to the back of the space that said “Sorry!” with a smiley face drawn under it. Holding one piece of paper was a man in a long cloak, a gauntlet on one hand. He was shaking with anger.
“I know what you’re here for,” he said, “but I have to ask you read this before you do anything.”
Knives gingerly took the paper from his outstretched hand, and she and Littlejohn read:
The Goddess shook her empty glass at one of her thousand servants, and it was promptly refilled, and given a new little umbrella.
“It’s going pretty well, isn’t it?” The God said, lounging back in his designer shorts. She’d finally gotten him to stop wearing a suit while they were sunbathing after a hundred years, but she could tell he was itching to put one back on when they got inside. He’d becoming such a fop since his last body died, and he became a boy again.
“It really is, I think they really have captured your likeness,” Virtuoso replied, and continued sketching the construction.
The statue was the size of a skyscraper, and was being constructed far enough away from the metropolis they’d built here that no one would obscure the view. It was, in fact, the spitting image of The Goddess, who adjusted her sunglasses to gaze at it.
“I was hoping they could get my nose looking a little better, I never really liked this nose,” she slid back in her lounge chair with a sigh, and one of her servants carefully steadied her glass so it wouldn’t drip.
“Well, I’ve about seen enough for today. How about we get a nap in?”
“My goddess,” their High Priest said with a cough, “will you be skipping tonight’s veneration?”
The Goddess let out a long moan, “No, I’ll let everyone adore me.” Being a goddess was such a slog sometimes.
“Thank you, Goddess of Gendar. May you--”
She stopped paying attention and pulled out a notebook, she was here for a reason after all. The whole goddess thing was just her day job.
“See?” he yelled.
Knives and Littlejohn looked up from the paper, met each other’s gaze, and shrugged.
“It’s even in her handwriting! She wrote that! About herself!”
“Um,” Knives said, “who?”
“THE GODDESS OF GENDAR!”
“She enjoys a nice drink with umbrella personally I find that relateable.”
“She’s a CON ARTIST you absolute imbecile. This whole planet is a billion year con-job!”
Virtuoso coughed, “Clearly, you’re uh, losing your mind and--”
“You’re NAMED IN THE DAMN DOCUMENT!” he said, an accusatory finger pointing at Virtuoso.
Virtuoso waved both hands frantically, “No look, look, if hypothetically a friend built a whole planet up somebody had to stay there and run it or the socioeconomic--”
“SHUT UP! She’s already left. Her and Artillo,” he clenched a fist, and started chuckling to himself, “it’s too late then, I suppose.”
“It is,” Knives replied, “you’ve murdered people, let alone your unlawful interference in this universe’s business. You’re coming back with me. In the name of the First and Final Firmament, I demand you turn yourself in.”
He looked at Littlejohn, “I meant it’s too late for something else. Our larger plan. And for that, well, I’m not actually sorry, but you have my sympathy.”
Littlejohn shook his head, “Enough, are you turning yourself in or not?”
“Do you know what happens to us Firmament when we die, Sergeant-Instructor?”
“You live again, like my people.”
“Not quite. If I die here, this far from home, by the time I make it back my soul, if you would call it that, will lose all memories. I’ll be reborn a blank slate. A white c…well, you get the picture.” He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, “So I guess this is where it ends for me.”
He swung the gauntlet out, and a blast of white light sent his foes scattering, but as Knives lept out of the way, she clung to the wall with her feet, and ran along it like it was the floor. She drew long crystal knife from her sleeve.
A second white blast came, and turned the wall ahead of Knives to rubble, dropping her back to the proper floor.
Littlejohn walked forward, no fear in his eyes, no agility in his step. Slowly and surely. White blasts came at him, but they seemed to be timed wrong, blazing past his cheeks in perfect near misses. The man screamed, and grabbed him, and sucked the life from him, and his eyes surged with red lines.
He fell to the floor, cold and wet. Skin covered his eyes, it had to be cut away so he could see, at least on the first body...but this was so long ago. So very long ago.
“So this is how you were born, out a simple cloning tank? I heard the 10,000 Dawns were backwaters, but I expected something nicer than this?”
“What the hell is inside you?” he coughed.
“You didn’t guess? Time.”
He let go, and stumbled back, still coughing up fluid from the birthing tank, Virtuoso and Littlejohn staring at him. He got his composure back, straightened his back, and a quick slash went along his chest. He looked down at the cut, it wasn’t fatal, up at the Arbiter of Knives, and snatched at the hand holding the knife, and sucked at her life.
And he fell to the floor, bleeding from everywhere.
“You didn’t think about what’s inside me, did you? I’m the Arbiter of Knives. Put it together.”
He didn’t say anything else before he passed on.
Littlejohn checked his pockets, and then looked at the papers, “A lot of historical records…a few notes about some sort of heist but no details...no ideas where they could have gone next from here I’m afraid.”
Virtuoso ran a hand over her hair, “I need to go see to the medical needs of the guests, and then the damage he did to the temple wall...will you excuse me?”
Littlejohn gestured, and she scampered off. “Weird, but she does her job well.
Knives nodded. “She’s absolutely a Firmament, you know. I can get ready to extradite her immediately.”
Littlejohn laughed, loud and hard, “Of course Virtuoso is. She has the worst poker face I’ve ever seen. I don’t really mind her being her, so I’ve let it slide.” He looked at Knives, and nodded, “Looks like we’re all done here.”
Knives looked down at the body, “I’ll bring him back to the Firmament. I’m sorry the trail went cold.”
“These things tend to come back around. I’ll let you know if anything comes from it all.”
Knives didn’t expect there’d be much. How serious could this whole plot be anyway? “I’ll see you around then, Littlejohn.”
“I’ll let you know if I need some cutlery.”
She smirked, and grabbing the body, vanished into a crystal orb. It zoomed through the temple, out the doors and past the medical crews, up into the sky, and ever so briefly became a star.
* * *
The Firmament, later
He fell to the floor, cold and wet. It was dark.
“You’re alright, I just haven’t cut your eyes open yet. Don’t struggle. I’m the Arbiter of Resurrection, and welcome to life. Now come on, we’ve got to get you up there’s paperwork to fill out.”
He wasn’t sure, after all he had only just come into the world, but as he was helped off the ground he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been here before.
If you're nominating for this year's Hugo Awards, please consider voting for the following works: Best Novella: Evan Forman for "The Night of Enitharmon's Joy", from the anthology "10,000 Dawns: Poor Man's Iliad", from Arcbeatle Press. Best Editor, Short Form: James Wylder for "10,000 Dawns: Poor Man's Iliad", from Arcbeatle Press. (Other qualifying works: "Tales from the 10,000 Dawns" and "A 10,000 Dawns Christmas" from Arcbeatle Press and "GoblinPunk Tales" from Shotgun Angel Games LLC) You can download's Evan's story below to read it for free:
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James Wylder
Poet, Playwright, Game Designer, Writer, Freelancer for hire.
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