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View Full Version : Nature is a paradox. Adult Supernatural 1,700



hvysmker
October 12th, 2014, 11:24 PM
Well, only one more for this planet, George thought while standing in a cornfield in Ohio. Then I can go back and start over. George’s occupation was as a life eradicator, or taker. He was working his way through the many dimensions of Earth in the Sol system. An endless and thankless task.

He knew that his efforts were useless, but it was his occupation. By the time he was finished with one dimension, new life would already be formed in the dimensions he had previously cleaned. Some would even be at the level they had been before George had arrived the time before. It was no secret that while he was killing, others were seeding life behind him, reversing his work. Senseless and useless though the job would be, it was the only one he knew.

You see, nature is a paradox. On one hand the universe is infinite, on the other it can’t be because nature isn’t perfect. It can’t even draw a straight line or a perfect circle. So nature can’t, by definition, be perfect -- or even perfectly imperfect. If not perfectly imperfect, it must contain perfection. A vital catch 22 situation.

There are an infinite number of universes, containing an infinite number of suns, each with an infinite number of planets. Wait! You say that can’t be in our solar system? We only have nine, at one time ten, planets. The Supreme Maker solved that problem by giving each planet around every sun an infinite number of dimensions, though each with the same number of planets, well ... mostly.

The same Supreme Maker, or possibly another which created him, her, or it, realized that the infinite universe might still eventually fill with life, so it created a check in the form of a destroyer of excess life in the universes. Meet the Supreme Destroyer Service.

Since any universe would have infinite chances to have life in each of its dimensions, the life destroyers were charged with an endless task. That Destroyer Service sends nodes of itself, such as hapless George, to destroy all life on individual planets, in individual dimensions, themselves on individual suns of individual solar systems, within individual galaxies.

On top of that, as if it weren’t enough, troublemakers kept seeding new life behind him as well as simply adjusting time to reverse his efforts. So, you can see he wasn’t very excited about our dimension being one of the last in his current project list. When finished, he'd be issued another list and start over. Simple, right? Poor George.

In any case, George went back to work, trudging through the cornfield and getting his feet covered with thick fertile clay, sharp stones biting into their bare soles. He projected an aura, without thinking, that killed all life within fifty feet of his plodding. His aura was controllable, as well as other forms of killing. By clasping his ears tightly and concentrating , he could clear entire continents of all life. However, if taking that shortcut, he would have to do his own cooking until traveling to another continent. And the stink while traveling would affect even him. George preferred fifty feet at a time. In a hopeless and hapless life, he wasn't in much of a hurry.

George could also shoot searing death rays from baby-blue eyes. Mostly, through force of will, he rather enjoyed kind of prodding the life-forms into killing themselves off. He found that method more interesting in a boring sort of way.

A passing rabbit got a silly look in its eyes before going back to the nest to kill its baby bunnies and then commit suicide by jumping onto the tines of farmer Johnson’s pitchfork. “Eeeii,” it cried as it jumped two feet into the air, landing on the sharp projections. That was the way George liked to do it, clean and simple.

George, cursing the fact that he could project only his naked body through dimensions, was in a foul mood as he walked painfully up to a lone farmhouse. Dogs heralded his approach. At least until he killed them with eye beams.

Old farmer Johnson had heard the animals and greeted him at the front porch with a shotgun, dropping it under his own deceased body as George saw him standing there. The farmer’s wife dropped dead in her chair in the living room from George’s aura as the lonely life taker plodded up wooden steps to the porch.

“Damn. At least I can find a pair of shoes and proper clothing. This cold night air is killing me,” George muttered, entering the house of the dead. An expired mother cat and six dead kittens lay in a box inside the front door. “I’ll find shoes that fit and something to eat,” he decided, “then get to work in the morning.”

With no hurry on a useless task, George dug through a couple of closets to find a pair of footwear and clothing that fit him. He then cut himself a slice of fresh ham chilled in a refrigerator, fried it with potatoes and onions, and had a good meal.

Tired and fed, the life taker found a comfortable bed and slept soundly in the perfect silence he preferred.

***

George woke to the sound of voices.

“Who’s been in my kitchen, Henry?” A woman was asking.

“Maybe an intruder last night, Harriet. It wasn’t me. Did you check the kittens yet?”

“They’re all right. Molly was meowing, so I fed her.”

At first, George thought he must be dreaming of his childhood home on a farm something like that one. As his mind cleared, he jerked upward in alarm.

Impossible! Nothing should be alive in that house. He remembered killing them. Hurrying to dress, the anxious life taker went to the bedroom door, grasping the knob in shaking hands. He paused for a moment to listen, still thinking he must be imagining the sounds.

“This is Janice, honey,” the female voice said. “She was lost and woke me this morning, Lordy, but I found you sleeping on the porch and I slept in my chair all last night.”

“I don’t know what the hell happened.” the man answered. “Last I remember is hearing the dogs bark. I better go see Doc Bork. It must be my blood pressure.”

George had to wait a few minutes, leaning against the door. He felt weak. Something was drastically wrong. His blood pressure was sky high, as was his pulse. Even while his angry was building.

“Well, I’ll soon put an end to this charade,” George told himself, finally regaining composure and getting his confidence back. “I’ll kill the hell out of them again, and I mean right now.”

Jerking open the door, he straightened his back and headed for the kitchen, ready to do his sworn duty.

All eyes met his as he entered the room. The old man and woman were there, also a girl in her twenties, a very pretty one. Well, it didn’t matter. In the 10,000 years since he'd started his job, George hadn’t been able to have sex. He had the will, not the way. Every girl he came near died before he could touch her.

His eye beams swept out. The two older people fell back in their chairs, dead again. The young woman only stood still, looking surprised. He stared at her with destructive eye beams but she didn’t drop.

“Oh, my God. I do get ahead of myself. You must be George?” She walked up and held out her hand. “I’ve wanted to meet you for the longest time.”

“What the hell you talking about? Wanted to meet me?”

“Oh, yeah, man. I’m the life giver assigned to you. I try not to get there until right after you leave. Guess I screwed up." She looked shyly at the floor. "Sorry, man. I didn’t know you’d stay here all night. Thought you’d be way down the road by now, killing things.”

“You mean every time I leave a place, you bring them back alive?”

“Yes'sir, that’s my job. Your’s is to kill them, mine to bring them back to life. By the way, my name’s Janice.”

“I ... I ... God damn it,” he screamed to the heavens. “I knew my task was useless, but not this. The next fucking day, yet.” George slumped into an empty chair across from the, again dead, couple. He began sobbing, then it hit him hard. George laid his head down and bawled loudly at the uselessness, the complete uselessness of his efforts.

Janice knelt down and hugged him from behind, trying to comfort the life taker.

“Oh, God. It’s my fault, George. I wasn’t thinking and got ahead of myself. I’m so, so, sorry.”

“You ... you.... Why, God, why?” he cried, looking at her with tearing eyes.

She brightened up suddenly,

“I know what! Why don’t I go back for a day or so, and we can start over, okay?”

“No! It’s not ‘okay.’ I’d still know you’re there, waiting.” He cried some more, blowing his nose on a sleeve of the borrowed shirt and getting a worried look from the girl in return.

“Then ... Then why don’t both of us take a day or two off and get acquainted?” She looked at the bodies lying around the room. “I can always revive them later. Bet you ain’t had sex for a long time? It’d make you feel better?” Janice grinned, helping him to his feet.

She led an unresisting life taker back to a bedroom, where they stayed for a long time. In fact the other bodies were pretty ripe by the time they'd finished.

“Come on, George, baby. Let’s surprise the Johnsons again, like a joke.” She led him outside to the front yard and brought everybody back to life for the second time. Hugging him around the waist, she led George up to the front door and knocked.

A somewhat groggy and very confused, Mr. Johnson answered the door, carrying his shotgun while the dogs barked frantically.

“Hi, Mr. Johnson,” she beamed her own eye beams, “my name’s Janice and this is my friend, George. We need jobs and work cheap. You need any help around the farm?”

Janice smiled sweetly at the old man. How could he resist those eyes? George certainly couldn’t.

Charlie

Clepto
October 15th, 2014, 12:22 AM
That was a pretty neat concept. A sentient being going around and manually destroying all life in his path only to have it revived by his exact opposite. I understand why George is so frustrated. His existence is basically pointless.

Good story. I think I'm going to go around and start reading your work. I seem to like most of it already.

Jean Bathurst
October 15th, 2014, 03:09 PM
I really like it. Very funny. Reminds me of some day jobs. Only suggestion would be to cut some of the exposition at top. But great stuff!
Jean