outDated

“outDated”

a short story

Gary Baker, August 2013

Never before had I yearned for death to come as much as I do now. For years have I put up with this affliction, and just one more day will be the end of my sanity and humanity alike.

You see, this all started as great as things could get, I was the top of my class, the highest rank achieving the highest high a man could receive by non-organic means. I had it all. Dreams became reality at my feet and leaders came from afar just to meet me, a simple man turned god in less than a decade.

But I’m getting ahead of myself; my name is Jessie Jack -- no not Jackson like the thief or whathaveyou from millennia ago -- former CEO of iGiga, lead producer of humano-mechanical entertwination. So that’s not a real word, but I’m disgustingly rich so who cares; in two months that word will be lighting the pages of dictionaries across the globe.

The Wasted Game

"The Wasted Game"

an excerpt

Gary Baker, March 2013

(proposal for a larger idea of forced time-travel castaways)

The Roman cocked his head curiously as the ranger made his way down the slope toward the fissure.

With determination set in, Keith sidled over a small ledge of oxidized ironstone and peered out into the canyon below. The drop was intense; he could have fallen over and not hit anything for several breaths.

Looking back to the others, he shook his head.

The Roman understood instantly. It was eerie, at times, just how fast the quiet man caught on. Xi could sit on a log talking about anything for long stretches without the man even letting a thought pass by unnoticed. It was clear how he had become what the ranger was slowly becoming less convinced as a gladiator and more of a war general.

The Endgame, part 2

"The Endgame"

a short story

Gary Baker, April 2013

(part 2 of 3)

“Phase two,” the echoing voice came again, “begin in: three...”

Juskra turned to face the open room and the way he’d just come.

“Two.”

He flexed his fingers and light once again appeared at his fingertips... but this time it wasn’t orange and it wasn’t warm. Eyes wide in shock, Juskra looked to the yellow-green points hovering at the very ends to each and every one of his fingers.

“No shit,” he breathed.

The energy of the light pulsed happily within him, amounting to a greater sense of power hiding just under his nails, coursing through his veins, peering from his eyes. No one had ever seen this happen in all of history. Not one soul had ever seen the orange light change like this.

“What does this mean?” Juskra choked out.

The Endgame, part 1

“The Endgame”

a short story

Gary Baker, April 2013

(part 1 of 3)

Juskra reached his arms out to the sides, stretching his biceps and forearms.

“Three,” came an echo of the loudspeaker sitting at the apex of the arched ceiling. Lights set here and there flickered, then hummed to life with traces of a faint yellow glow left to streak across the placid slate flooring. “Two.”

Juskra grit his teeth and flared his fingers wide to bring about small globes of orange-cream light hovering like flies on his nails. His eyes shot to the speaker high, high above determining it to be about five stories up. Above that speaker hung the Gobosxes, a court of gods with infinite wisdom all sitting in throw pillow-covered divans drinking wine and ale, while watching the events below. These gods would judge him, they would sense his every thought as he completed the mission... and they would feel his cold embrace as he died at the end.