"Charlie, can you hear me?" I sat in dismayed silence. Charlie had walked past me and hadn't seemed to see me. "Charlie, can you see me?" There came no response. I went and stood in front of the door as he got dressed. He would have to pass through me to go downstairs. He tugged on his shirt and opened the door. He walked right through me and didn't even pause for a moment. Tears welled up in my eyes. I had known this day was coming. Things had been getting more foggy over time, and he could hear and see me less and less. But it hit me hard not being able to talk to him. I needed him as much as I think he had needed me. It just so happened that he no longer needed me.

I followed Charlie through his day. He ate breakfast, went to school, did his homework, and played video games that evening. The only thing different about today was that I wasn't a part of it.

I didn't know what to do. He couldn't see me, and I couldn't seem to be able to leave him. I was stuck in some sort of limbo. I tried one more time before he fell asleep that night.

"Charlie, please. I don't think I can go on without you. I... I need you." Charlie could neither hear nor see me. He fell into a peaceful slumber. I just stood there.

"What am I supposed to do?" I asked nobody in particular.

"You have to come with me." A person appeared next to me. I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Who are you?" I queried.

"I am just a courier. But you have wasted to much time here. Another child needs you." "Another child? What child?"

"I'll explain on the way." He grabbed my arm and we disappeared forever from Charlie's room.

Dear past,

     I am sending this letter back in time. I shall spare the details of time travel, just let it be known that small inanimate objects can be sent through time. The past, however, cannot be changed; every time-jump is just a loop of sorts. Because of that, this message is somewhat in vain. There is nothing you can do to change the future. I guess I am writing this because I want somebody to know what happened to Earth, it makes me feel less lonely.

                                                                  ~~~

     I am one of the last people left standing on Earth. The Blue planet, as it has been fondly called, will be destroyed in just two short years. The Council of Solaris 1 has decided that Earth is more trouble than it is worth.

     Oh where did it go wrong? Earth was at an almost complete world peace in the year 2030. We had solved several of the greatest problems. At the top of the list were creating safe nuclear power, and permanently stopping terrorism. Oh of course our Utopia wasn't completely perfect, and some people grumbled. But our greatest thinkers put into action a good format for a Utopian world, and earth was at peace.

     I think the problems started anew when we decided to pursue space colonies. The idea itself wasn't a problem, but Dr. Stephen Johnson, the man who spearheaded the effort, decided to promote utter independence from earth. Almost nobody agreed with him to begin with. But after our solar system was completely settled and we started looking at inter-solar travel, the idea grew in popularity.

     In the year 2100, when the Pluto fleet, Star Hopper, set out for Proxima Centauri, a council convened between Earth and Mars. It was decided that Earth would no longer hold sway over other planets. Our solar system would be ruled planet to planet.

      Many people who had stayed on Earth were somewhat upset. I think they must have been jealous as well. Humans were exploring beyond our solar system while Earthlings seemingly sat at home. To make things more complicated, we were expanding beyond just 'race'. We now had an interplanetary discrepancy to face. The Utopian method Earth had employed, to great affect before, started to crumble.

      A murmur of war started somewhere on Earth, and soon there was a cry for vengeance. Why exactly, I'm not sure. Earthlings felt left behind.

     Mars, the closest planet, felt Earth's hate first. We had out grown atomic bombs at this point. Bombs of that kind were a sort of child's play. Not because their destructive power had gone down, humans simply had got that much meaner. We used Negative Matter. (Technically not truly "negative", it was thus named because of the black hole like destruction it left behind, or rather didn't leave behind.) The greatest atrocity to ever take place in our solar system happened on April 11, 2107. Earth launched two, eight megaton Negative Matter bombs at Mars. The first bomb sucked over half the planet into oblivion. The second one, hitting only seconds after, left just a ring of dust particles, and just like that, an entire planet disappeared. They had no warning, and nobody was confirmed to have escaped.

      The other five planets summoned an emergency council. Earth had amassed several space frigates, rigged for war, and was planning on regaining control of her lost subjects. The other planets declared immediate retaliation.

     Fourteen years of fighting ensued. Earth did not want to give up, and the other planets did not have the luxury of backing down. If they did, they would be ruled by a tyrant of a planet. At this point several million people fled Earth. Most were turned away, only 2.3 million were recorded as accepted on the planet Venus. The rest were doomed to wandering space. They had deserted their planet, and no others would take them. Another key thing that happened during this period was the creation of the Council of Solaris 1. So named because we had already started a massive colonization of several other solar systems. Most notably among them, Proxima Centauri.

     In the year 2121, Earth was beat into submission. All her natural resources had been spent, and water existed only in sparse locations near the poles. Earth was finished. The Council of Solaris 1 sent most of the inhabitants of Earth to prisons spread throughout the solar system. Only four hundred or so people were left on planet Earth.

     The year is currently 2125. The Council of Solaris 1 has condemned Earth to the same fate as Mars. I will be leaving Earth for the final time in just a few days.

     Earth's fate is a sad one, but I think it is a just one. Humans are spread out over fourteen solar systems in all now, and we have yet to find any other life. We have grown much bigger and farther then most people ever imagined and yet we are still tiny little blips on the map of the Milky Way Galaxy.

     Unfortunately this will be the one and only letter I can send. To put things back in time, you need to place them in the exact physical spot you want them to appear. We will be losing more then just a planet. We will be losing a portal to the past as well.

~Alice Ryans

The space fleet Star Hopper had just launched from the out post on Pluto. The four ships chosen for the mission represented the four participating planets who had promoted and funded the program. The mission at hand was a daunting one, humans were attempting to leave the solar system for the first time. It was decided that the ships would head to the star Proxima Centauri. The target planet was Proxima Centauri b, a small planet with thorough promise of hosting human life. The qualifications a planet needed, to be able host human life, had proportionally gone down as human technology had gone up. The planets orbiting our sun were living proof of human engineering.

The solar system that Star Hopper was leaving behind was a thriving multi-planet system. Humans had optimized space travel so well that it took only two weeks to travel from Earth to Pluto. Humans had also perfected terra-spheres to the point that they could safely put them into orbit around Jupiter as mining facilities, and Mars had essentially become a second Earth. Humans were ready to expand.

Star Hopper 1 was the commanding ship of the mission. On board were scientists from literally all over the solar system. The ships, cleverly titled Star Hopper 1, Star Hopper 2, Star Hopper 3, and Star Hopper 4, were each specifically designed to do a separate task. The flag ship, SH1, held the brains of the project and most of the colonists who were chosen to be the first people on Proxima Centauri b. Ships 2 and 3 carried scientific equipment and resources from the other planets. Ship 4 was a single, giant, communications device. It broadcast powerful waves of energy and received like pulses from Pluto. The small outpost on Pluto would be the fleet's primary link to humanity. A secondary communications station had been set up on an asteroid only a few thousand miles away from Pluto, this one was to be used only if something happened to the base on Pluto. However, it also served to pinpoint the exact location of the signals source. The Star Hopper fleet said there final good-byes and jumped into the accelerated speed profile. The ETA was only nine years.

Stephen Johnson Jr. was the lead scientist in the expedition. His father was the fellow responsible for designing the accelerated speed profile; because of him, this mission was possible. The travel to Proxima Centauri b went surprisingly smooth, no accidents and no mutinies. Mr. Johnson, he wasn't known as Jr. on board SH1, let out a great big sigh of relief as they came within the gravitational pull of Proxima Centauri. The red giant filled the ships with an other worldly glow. Soon the ships would be landing on a new Earth, at least that was Johnson's hope. Most of the studies pointed to a habitable planet, but he held secret doubts about what this planet would hold, or wouldn't hold.

*Authors note:

This was inspired by my other post "Letter from the Future" (you can read it here, https://theprose.com/post/137703/letter-from-the-future). I wanted to expand upon the trip to Proxima Centauri, although my brain did fry a little towards the end of writing this post.

I highly recommend, and would greatly appreciate, you read my post Letter from the Future as it will help explain what happened to the "Blue Marble" just 27 years after the Star Hopper fleet left Pluto.

Shay Pipkin's Biology Journal: Entry 41; 041/9,461 approximately 8155.000

Location: Orbis Aquae

General Information Chart:

Object Name: Ozzelles

Location: Like humans and similar parasites, they are found throughout the known galaxies (this study has been performed primarily on Orbis Aquae)

Description: Think giant amoeba; Physically they grow to be about 3 foot diameter spheres; Usually puce in color, although other dull grey/green colors are sometimes seen; Its consistency is rather like a blob of jelly left out on the counter; Can change color depending on creatures age and items ingested

Origin: Unkown

Current activities: Digesting things, including themselves if nothing else is available; Only known danger to them: extensive fire and/or heat; Can formulate specific acids to dissolve and/or digest almost anything; Primary source of food is unknown, they seem to thrive off of everything

Special Notes: Can let off noxious gases at will; When burned: emits toxic fumes; Can separate into many, totally independent blobs; The separation/ reproduction of oozelles is accomplished through binary fission; If the environment is stressful for a colony, they will start to merge back together (two oozelles become a single oozelle); They communicate by telepathy; Impervious to almost everything; Generally does not take interest in surrounding environment;

Shay's Observations:

Now there is a sight I never thought I'd see. A  single oozelle splitting in two. A single oozelle is rare, since they are almost always social creatures living in big colonies. It appears that this oozelle has left its colony (I assume the one 16 miles to the north) and seems to be starting one of its own.

I have been watching this creature for 14 days now. I have not yet tried to contact it. Although I am fairly certain it knows I am here watching it. It moved to the other side of the clearing shortly after I made camp in this tree. However, it does seem comfortable enough to split in front of me. I think I will be able to watch a colony grow, right under my nose. This is really quite amazing.

I should make note that these creatures are thoroughly sentient, and have communicated with humans in the past. But I am trying to watch "virgin" oozelles, uncontaminated by the outside world. So far, I have been successful. And the natives (anthró̱pino psária) of Orbis Aquae have been a great help in this regard. They had told me about the colony in the first place and they have also granted me several necessary supplies.

I intend to continue to watch this oozelle for another year if all goes well.

   Hazel and Chester sat in complete darkness. The two of them were locked in a Cranial Pressure Chamber. They dealt in the manipulation of the subconscious, a pseudo-scientific endeavor, spearheaded by the great Dr. Glaznoch. Their current mission was the extraction of a dream from a new patient. The patient was some fellow in a coma that Dr. Glaznoch had brought in for special treatment. He had said it was of utmost urgency. Neither Chester nor Hazel were given more information than that. They did not need more information. All they needed to know was the description of the dream they were hunting and removing.

   Hazel pushed a button on a hand held remote and a small dial in front of them lit the tiny chamber with a dull glow. "Mental Pressure is reaching target point. We'll be entering the subconscious state in just about forty seconds."

    "Roger that," replied Chester. He tugged a little at his helmet. This item protected his head from the building pressure in the chamber, and it also connected him to the patient.

   "Ten seconds," Hazel said, "Five, four, three, two, one." Both Hazel and Chester felt a tug at the base off their skulls. Both went limp at the controls and both entered the subconsciousness of their patient. They felt a jostle from side to side, then a sort of drop with a sudden stop. They were now in the patient's subconscious mind. In front of them a door opened, flooding the room with light. They stepped out into a strange, ever changing, ever solid, landscape.

   The world into which they stepped, was brightly lit, with a sky blue dome over head. The ground seemed to be made of a dull pink stone, which shimmered and swirled. The patterns shifted this way and that, but the physical structure of the material stayed the same shape. These two colors, the pink and blue, dominated the landscape. In fact, nothing else was present. Hazel and Chester stood in a veritable desert of pink.

   "Well this is quite unexpected." Hazel said. She pulled a tool from her belt and powered it on. It whirred and whistled for a few seconds and then displayed a few numbers. "It looks as though we are the only things here. Literally, nothing else seems to exist in his subconscious."

   "That can't be right." Chester glanced at the numbers on the tool. "Scan again. If those numbers come up again we'll need to contact Doctor Glaznoch pronto."

   Hazel ran the machine again, and the result was the same.

   Chester clenched his jaw, "I'll establish the connection. We have to contact Glaznoch to figure out what is happening." There was an urgency in Chester's voice that Hazel didn't argue with.

   "Okay," she replied, "What do you think is going on here?"

   Chester looked around, "I don't know, I've never seen anything like it. It is sort of like the patient has ceased to think altogether."

   Hazel looked around as Chester prepared the Convo-Link.

   "Chester, what's that over there." She pointed to a small round disc sitting on a pile of rocks. Chester looked up, but now that he was establishing the link, could not reply due to the concentration required. He could only watch with a slightly detached expression.

   Hazel walked over to the disc and picked it up. The disc was only five inches in diameter, and on its face was inscribed. "Subconscious compromised and deleted. Source code in hibernation. Machine in permanent shut down mode."

   "Uh, Chester." Hazel said, "I think we entered a machine, not a human."

"Oh, my head hurts!" I sat up and looked around. "Hi Meg. Can you ask Dr. Weston to give me four and three quarter pills of Ibuprofen?" I looked over at the nurse whose name was Meg.

She stared at me slack jawed. "Sir, how do you know my name? And how do you know the Doctor's name?" She wrote something on her clipboard. And looked down at the brain charts she had been working on.

That threw me off guard. I didn't really know what she meant by, "how do you know my name?" I just knew that she was Meg, the doctors name was Weston, and I needed approximately four and three quarter pills of Ibuprofen to ease my head ache. I looked around the room and realized I wasn't just in a doctor's office. I was sitting in the Emergency Room of a small hospital in New York, and I was mostly naked.

"Um, Mrs. Johnson," I figured a little bit of formality couldn't hurt, "could I by any chance get a robe or coat? I don't like sitting in my underwear." She didn't seem to enjoy the prospect of me knowing her last name too, but she handed me a long white, 83.2 percent cotton, lab coat. I thanked her and asked, "What is my name? I can't remember a single thing about me. All I know is that I had a blunt impact to the head. And I only know that because it hurts right here." I pointed to a spot on my forehead.

The nurse sighed and set down her paperwork. "All I know is that the EMT's pulled you out of the Hudson River. We are trying to get your finger prints run so that we can identify you. I'll let you know if we get anymore information."

"Aside from head trauma, is there anything else wrong with me?" My head was the only thing that hurt. But I guessed I could have some internal damage that I couldn't feel.

The nurse glanced back at the file. "Nope, your all good. Well except for you head injury. But we don't even know that much about the head injury. Your head is bruised, that's all. It doesn't look like you have any brain damage, and you skull is still in one piece."

"Technically isn't my skull, technically, made up of eight bone plates?" I asked. "Not to seem to be a know it all but my head is more then one piece." I smiled sheepishly.

The nurse looked at me queerly and nodded. "Technically your head is made up of multiple bones. But I meant that as a whole, you head is intact."

"Oh." I sat there in silence for a moment. "If I can't remember who I am or what the accident was, why do I know your name, and the doctor's name, and how many pills it will take to briefly cure my head ache, and exactly what percentage cotton this coat is made from?"

"Well I do know that in some cases head trauma makes people smarter. I think there was a case where a fellow had a head injury and became a math genius over night. I don't remember exactly but I think the effects wore off eventually." The nurse thought for a moment and then said, "I think you seem to have a certain amount of intuition. Dr. Weston's name isn't anywhere in this room, and my back was turned when you called me Meg. I wonder how much you can get right. What is my husband's name?"

"Your husband's name was Andrew, but he died of cancer four years ago. I'm sorry about that."

The nurse sat down in a chair with a thud. She swallowed hard and said in a choked voice, "And my son?"

"He is-," I paused, "Oh. You don't know, do you." She shook her head. I winced and continued, "He died a year ago. I am so, so sorry." The nurse burst into tears and left the room.

How had I known that. It was just something that came to mind.

~~~

A week after waking up, I checked myself into an insane asylum. I had been let out of the hospital only a day after and had spent several hard nights wandering New York. Nothing had come up with my finger prints, so I was officially a nobody. I knew it wasn't Hospital protocol just to let people go like that, but I think they wanted to get rid of me, and I couldn't blame them. I had accurately predicted four incoming accidents and had told the desk nurse that the principal would be calling about her son. Everybody wanted to see me gone.

So I had wandered for over a week. Somehow I knew that there would be twelve dollars under the park bench, and somehow I knew that there was something quite edible in that garbage can. I had eventually decided to go to an insane asylum because I guessed I might be a danger to myself. I didn't actually know this for sure because all my intuition was extended to the outside world and not at all to myself.

At the mental institute they had me take a test. I aced all the quizzes and ended up writing my own math problems because theirs were laughably easy. However when it came to the section about me I had no answers. I just didn't know a thing about me.

Two days after I had snuggled into the mental institute, as I fondly called the place, four men in black suits came to get me. Before they could even knock on my room door, I called out to them saying, "Come in Agents Smith, Johnson, Williams, and Jones. What does the FBI want with me? And you fellows have the most common last names in the United States. Did you know that?" They didn't seem to be happy. They said only a few words to me and then took me away in a black sedan.  Apparently they are as commonly used as movies make out.

I looked at the fellows sitting on either side of me and said, "Are you guys going to inject me with the sleeping medication now or later." I felt a prick in my neck and blacked out.

~~~

"Oh my head hurts, and I'm not a fan of deja vu. What's with the medical room set up?" I looked around at all the white coats around me. "You guys haven't figured out what is wrong with me yet. So why are you buzzing around like bees?"

An intelligent looking man in a suit walked over and said, "You know more then you let on. We want to know what you know and how you know it."

"You mean that I know you are the head of intelligence at the pentagon and you think I'm some kind of security breach." I might not have wanted to sound so indifferent, but it didn't really concern me that much.

He smiled and said, "Exactly. We want you to come back to work for us."

That stopped me in my tracks. I had worked for the government? Now that was a plot twist the author hadn't expected. And the more he types about me breaking the forth wall, the more the story gets off track. Just go back to the guy in the suit, please.

The man said, "We want you back, Leo."

"Thank you for staying on track, wait what was that?" I said. "Oh you were talking to me. Say that again."

The man raised an eyebrow and replied, "I said that we want you back, Leo."

"I'm sorry, I was just a little distracted. But come to think of it, now that the forth wall has been broken there are all sorts of problems. The reader now knows that I know what they know about me. Oh, dear and I am just making it worse. Please agent, Smith. You have to let me go!" The man in the suit looked terribly confused. He stepped back a little and put his hand on the butt of his pistol.

"Leo, I'm going to need you to calm down." Now everybody in the room was staring at me. They were all waiting to see what would happen next.

"Guys, you don't understand!" I said. "The author has broken the fourth wall and now we are all at risk. I don't know one hundred percent what happens but I can only guess it isn't good." I stood and looked around. I couldn't see him but I knew there was someone observing me and writing down my actions. He started writing down what I was thinking even as I was thinking it. Uh, oh. "This has to stop!" I shouted.

Agent Smith raised his gun and pointed it directly at my chest. "Leo, calm down. I don't want to shoot you but I will if I have to."

I looked at him and in a panicked voice I said. "I think I have an idea." Then at the top of my voice I shouted, "THE END!"

When the police arrived at apartment twelve they found the body of a middle aged man and the landlady who had alerted the police to the crime. The dead man was George Henry, he had no criminal record, no suspicious history and hadn’t worked for the past month. The apartment he was living in was nondescript and extremely cheap. Detective Salzinato was put in charge of the case and upon digging into George Henry’s history he found one living relative, the man’s brother. He visited Mr. Herbert Henry with the unfortunate news of his dead brother. The detective asked if Mr. Henry thought his brother was depressed or had any other reason to commit suicide. Mr. Henry said he couldn’t rightly say. He hadn’t heard from his brother for twenty two years. Salzinato asked Henry to call if he could provide anymore information about his brother.

After a month's searching turned up nothing conclusive, Salzinato wrapped the case up as a suicide. The detective moved onto other cases and left the death of George Henry behind him.

~~~

-“Where am I? Why is everything dark? And why can’t I feel my body.”

~“Oh, hello. I wasn’t sure if I was all alone or if there was someone else here.”

-“Who are you? And where are we?”

~“I was about to ask you the same thing. As to the first question my name is Carl. I don’t know where we are. Last thing I remember is taking a flight to Miami for a long deserved vacation. I work in a stuffy office building full of stuffy people. Well, at least I used to. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. For all I know it could have been moments or years.”

-“Huh, I don’t remember anything. Wait, that’s not true. I do remember now that my name is George and I know what living felt like.”

~“Do you think we are dead?!”

-“No, well, I don’t know. I mean I remember what it was like outside this place. I remember what ‘being’ felt like. But all I know now is that I'm not in the place I was.”

~“Well, I guess it could be worse. That was always my grandfather’s philosophy. 'Life is never so bad that it can’t get worse.'”

-“Sounds cheery.”

~“Well if you think about it, we could have been in different places and not been able to converse with each other. I don't feel the need to eat or sleep, and in my current state of feeling or lack thereof I don't think I need worry about bodily harm.”

-"I s’pose you got a point.”

(long pause)

-“Say, do hear voices?”

~“Yea I do. They aren’t like yours or mine though. They sound different; more full I guess. I can’t really make out what their saying though. Do you think we should call for help?”

-“Might as well. It doesn't seem like we have any other options at the moment. Hey! Can anybody hear me? We can't see anything but we can hear you!"

~"Well, the voices stopped but I don't think that is a good sign."

-"I'll try again. Hullooo! CAN. YOU. HEAR. ME?"

~"Your voice didn't sound any louder to me. Come to think of it I don't think either of us are making any sound at all. We just sort of know what the other is thinking."

-"Creepy, but I know what you mean."

~"Hang on a moment. I think I see a light."

-"What? Where? I don't see anything."

~"Where is it? Well I guess it must be in front of me. I can't focus on it and I can't seem to turn away from it. What ever it is, it is getting stronger. Oh! I can see things. People, lights, color!"

-"Wait! Don't go! Don't leave without me! I still can't see anything but it seems like your voice is fading away. Stay here please. I can't think what will happen to me if I stay all alone!"

(an expanse of silence)

-"Hello? Are you still here? Please."

~~~

"Well Carl you've made practically a complete recovery. You will probably have a headache for a while but considering the brain surgery I think that would be a given." The doctor smiled at his patient. "You will notice some differences due to the operation, but you can go back to your normal life."

"Thanks. Could you send my wife in?"

"Sure thing." The doctor left and a pleasant looking woman came in.

"Hi honey. They say your good as new." She smiled at her husband and held his hand.

"Silvia," Carl said, "I had a really weird dream and I don't know what to make of it."

"What was it dear?"

The man shuddered. "I was trapped in darkness and would have probably gone insane had I not talked to a man."

"What man, dear?"

"I don't know. But I think... I think... I don't know." Carl looked at his wife and winced. He put a hand to his head and said, "The doctor wasn't lying about a headache. Oh man that hurts."

"I'll go get the doctor for you." Silvia walked out with a concerned look on her face.

The doctor came back in and handed Carl two pills and a glass of water. "Take these. And try to get some sleep." He turned to go but Carl stopped him.

"What was the operation you did again?"

"A corpus callosotomy. We had to separate the hemispheres of your brain. You will notice differences in your actions but as I said before you should be able to have a normal life."

"Huh. Thanks doc."

Two days after Carl was allowed to go home he was sitting at his computer looking up what a corpus callosotomy was. He was looking for a support group because the left side of his body wasn't acting quite right. On an impulse he put a piece of paper down on the desk and gave his left hand a pencil. Then in big letters he wrote across the top of the page, "Are you there George?" Hardly before he had finished dotting the question mark, his left hand started writing on the bottom of the page. A single word. "Yes."

Radagast the Brown was bustling around his cabin trying to find his pipe so that he could join his friend in the sport of blowing smoke rings. He glanced over his should and said, "Say Gandalf, have you tried my mushroom tea?" 

Gandalf choked on the mutton leg he was eating in between smoke rings and said. 

"You've taken the manipulation of mushrooms far too far, Radagast. It is one thing to serve them in salads and soups, but trying to turn them into tea is just ridiculous."

"Oh, I am sure you would enjoy it if you just tried a sip." The little Brown Wizard bustled over with two steaming cups of tea in hand. He sat down took a gulp of tea and promptly jumped out of his chair again. "I still haven't found my pipe."

Gandalf shook his head and smiled a little while he gently pushed the cup of tea away. "You would do better to enjoy some of this lamb with me. You never were good at blowing smoke rings. And besides I want to discuss an idea with you."

"An idea? That sounds terribly dangerous." Radagast wandered back to the table, looking for his pipe all the way. "You had better tell me about this idea if you wish to discuss it with me."

"The idea goes something like this. If Sauron ever shows his rather ugly face in Middle Earth again, we find a normal person that nobody knows about and turn him into a hero."

"Sounds rather complicated." Radagast took a sophisticated slice of mutton off the platter and nibbled at it tentatively. "What spices did you put on here, Gandalf? I have tasted nothing like it."

"And you will probably never taste anything like it again. That my dear Radagast is spices whisked away from Bilbo Baggins' kitchen. And before you accuse me of thievery, he gave it to me telling me it was a spice he disliked and wanted to get rid of. When I inquired where he got it from, he told me that it came from Erebor's Kitchens. That my dear fellow is the last of a spice that the dwarfs of Erebor once used to flavor the meals of Thror himself. So, what do you think of my idea?"

"I think the lamb needs more salt." Came the meek reply of Radagast the Brown.

General Irwin Riggs was a sight to behold. His black trench coat and shiny top hat cut his figure out of the fog with terrifying clarity. A double canister gas mask hid his mouth while an eye patch did the same to his right eye. His left eye, glaring out from under the hat brim, was a shocking blue. His brown leather boots crunched through the debris of war as walked forward. A sword, drawn from his walking cane, was the only weapon he had; it was the only weapon he needed.

Vertilline Paige took in this sight from where she lay. The general had a ridiculous amount of strength. He had thrown her Mech suit a good ten feet. Vertilline glanced over at the broken, twisted pile of copper and bronze; steam hissed feebly out of it's torn pipes. She groaned and struggled to her feet, her only weapon was a low voltage Shocker Gun. She clutched it now as though it were the controls to her half ton Mech suit. Her only hope was putting a shock right through his heart. Vertilline watched as General Riggs walked closer. She knit her eyebrows together, what was that dark liquid in between her and Riggs? Baider had called it oil. He said something about explosions, too.

"You can't fight progress." General Riggs' voice cut the air.

Vertilline waited until the General's boots were in the puddle. She pulled the trigger on the Gun and pushed the muzzle into the oil.

Nothing happened. Vertilline shook the Shocker Gun and tried pulling the trigger again. The charge was completely gone. She groaned yet again and glanced up to see where General Irwin Riggs was. He stood directly over her, sword raised.

"Don't you understand?" The general's voice was slightly muffled by his gas mask, and it was rather short and choppy. "You can't stop the future. Steam is irrelevant, and magic is nonexistent!"

Vertilline stared up at him, "Magic still exists," she croaked through a very dry voice box. "Nydria is full of magic. I admit that we attempted the same thing you did, but magic fought back. You might beat steam but you will never beat magic."

General Riggs' laugh echoed hollowly in the empty street. "Our machines are stronger then yours. We will beat you and your pathetic army. Nothing can stand in the way of the Age of Diesel, but enough of this chatter! You had your chance." He raised his sword and brought it down, it was aimed directly towards Vertilline's torso.

Vertilline rolled to the left but not quick enough. She felt the blade graze her back and a small trickle of blood rolled down her spine. She sprang to her feet and jumped back, narrowly avoiding a second swing from the general's sword. She looked around for a weapon, anything. Her eyes lit on a riffle, it would be a terribly impractical weapon for close quarters, but it was the only thing at hand. She hit the ground and rolled, Riggs' sword whistled through the air where her neck had been. She came up in a crouch next to the riffle.

"Hey-ya Verdi!" Came a cheerful voice, "Do ya need a hand with nasty Mr. Top Hat?" Vertilline looked up, and there stood Edmund J. Fisher.