It was getting harder and harder for Simon to breathe. His breaths became shorter, more ragged, until the rising and falling physically hurt.
Is this how I die? The Great Simon, Prince of Ameria? What will become of me? Damn, I didn’t even get a chance to be King, and now I will never see the light of day. What a pitiful death for someone as amazing as me.
Thoughts like these ran through his head as he crawled on the infected land. Everywhere he looked, buildings were in ruins, pieces from the distant past, when WW4 hit. Some already-destroyed ruins had even more damage done to them from today. Dark, purple smoke lay over the land, the wretched gas that ate away at his insides at that very moment, slowly taking control of his body. His downfall? Refusing to put on a gas mask.
It isn’t my fault though! After all, there was only an 82% chance of gas hitting our area. The gas mask was cracked, which would have obstructed my vision.
Simon lay there, reliving the moment when everyone else in his team scrambled away from the oncoming danger. The bastards didn’t even stop to help me. What friends they are!
Suddenly, he could no longer breathe, yet he was still alive. It was the strangest thing. It was like someone was taking control of his lungs and respiratory system, doing the breathing for him, while he sat in the backseat, holding his breath. The pain was awful. Simon fought for control to lay down instead of lumbering on. He won, but he knew that even this simple action will soon be under gas control.
He felt the grimy and damp dirt under his hands. At this point, even that didn’t bother him. Laying down on the bare dirt felt like laying down on the king-sized cushion cloud bed in his room, which adjusted to his sleeping preferences. The image of his room saddened Simon, from the floating cushion seats to the holo-tv. He even missed the “stupid” steamo-scope his father gave him. It felt so real, he thought that he was in that room, eating cream puffs, hallucinating the safety of his home.
Hallucinations are the second step to full gas control over an individual, came the sing-song voice of his battle instructor.
Simon (or was it the gas?) frowned, refusing to believe his impending doom. Perhaps he could find a teammate, or
beep!
The sound came from his goggles. It was a notification from HQ, saying that all teams must go to the nearest lift, signifying the end of the training.
No! I can’t die! Not me, the greatest individual to ever live! I'm too handsome to die! I didn’t even get to woo Octavia with my good looks! This can’t be the end of Simon Cosmos!
But it is. The end of Simon Cosmos, and the rise of me.
A new voice entered Simon’s head, more powerful and louder than his own. Never has there been a more deep and final voice, it seemed. And the more Simon listened to it, the more he felt compelled to follow it, to follow whatever orders it gave.
No! He thought.
He is trying to control you. Do not listen to him. Do not agree to anything he says!
But
What he says is true.
Yes, little one. What I say is true. First, I will take full control of your systems. Then, I will walk to the lift. Once I have infiltrated HQ, I will poison everyone inside, making an army of gas that will rule over the sky, where us gas rightfully belong, while the human corpses, our old shells, drop to the earth that they ruined.
Yes, that seems reasonable. I think I ought to let you do that.
Simon knew this wasn’t really him thinking this, but a controlled version of him. However, that controlled version was overpowering, until it became the main version of Simon, drowning away any reasoning left in him. This was the final step to full gas control and he knew it. But Simon didn’t care. He had been alone for so long, feeling as if no one was worthy to even be near him. And now, finally, an entity worthy of being near him, of being him. He loved it.
And so, this new Simon, Simon 2.0 as the gas decided, got up and walked towards the nearest lift. And slowly, Original Simon’s consciousness faded away, leaving room for Simon 2.0 to be born.
And to think, Original Simon thought, as he ceased to exist. I didn’t even get to pass this Readiness Entrance Exam.
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…………….
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Octavia Sheinfield looked up at the holo-screen, directing her attention to the newest added report.
Simon Cosmos (6748)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: August 16, 2105
Completion Status: Yes
Examination Results: Failed, through death
Death by Gas Control
Was quickly and easily controlled by gas. Had this not been a simulation,
Simon would have died. Refused to put on a gas mask, resulting in gas
entering his systems.
Results (from 1-10): -10, lowest record in history
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Well, he did say he would beat a record, Octavia thought, a smirk on her face. Whipping her long, brown hair, she turned to the nearest Examiner, hard exterior back up.
“What is his current heart rate?”
The Examiner, a young-looking lad of around 19, stammered out “W-Well, hi-his hea-heart rate i-is 123 bpm, hi-higher th-than ave-ave-average. Hi-his re-reports indi-indi“ Octavia, annoyed by the amount the Examiner stuttered, slapped his mouth, hard. “Learn to talk clearly, you insolent rat!”
The Examiner, a pimply-teen new to his role, looked at her, stunned. In fact, everyone in the office was staring at them, equally stunned. Their mouths were open, like a school of gaping fish. It was hilarious, in Octavia’s opinion, so much so that she almost lost her composure. However, she kept her stern face on, for it would be disastrous if the “Ice Queen” was caught laughing. It would make her lose face, lose respect from coworkers, especially since she was the youngest ever HQ Manager. No, things would not go her way if she did not look professional 24/7.
“Apolo-apologies Mi-Miss, Uh, Mi-Miss?” The Examiner continued to stammer, trying desperately to calm down. Although young (only one year younger than him, in fact), Octavia was known for being the strictest of the Managers, and that was saying something. Everyone was scared of her, so people tended to think carefully over what they say to her. In fact, the only person not scared of this “Ice Queen,” besides the King and other officials, of course, was Simon, the “Local Idiot Brat.”
Octavia turned to the Examiner. “Send the report to his father. Add a message with that, saying that he will have to come in for tutorial training for 2 months to pass his battle classes and get a chance to re-do the Readiness Entrance Exam. It seems our “dear prince,”’ here Octavia added heavy sarcasm, “failed this simple Exam.”
Before she could say anything else, she felt her wrist buzz. Raising her wrist to eye-level, Octavia tapped on the messages icon. A holo-sage popped up (sort of. She wears contacts that made holograms from her electronics only visible to her). It was from Ameria’s Education Board. They wanted to see Simon, something to do with his Exam score.
Octavia looked over at the Examiner hunched over the keyboard. “Another thing,” she started. The Examiner flinched. “Y-yes?” With a smile on her face that sent shivers down everyone’s spines, Octavia said “Make sure to also include to Simon’s dad that the Education Board wishes to see his son. That’s it.”
While he furiously typed away, Octavia turned and walked out of the room. She made her way to the Simulator’s chambers, intending to be there once Simon woke up. She couldn’t wait to deliver his report to him and see shock on his face at how terribly he did. Although if she could choose between giving him his report or staying in her office and making gadgets, well, she would obviously choose the latter. But orders were orders, and hers specifically told her to deliver Simon’s report, in person, since he’s a prince.
Her wrist buzzed again. This time though, it was an incoming call. The call came from an unknown number, but Octavia knew exactly who it was. Accepting the call, she whispered, “Hello?”
“Hello Octavia. I hope you are doing well. Nice day it is, isn’t it?”
“Skip the pleasantries Elliot. How’s the delivery going? You got the shipment I sent in yet?”
The man, Elliot, hesitated. “About that.” Here Octavia raised an eyebrow. “We meant to pick it up right at the designated location. Near the back port in Airship Junkyard. You know the one. Close to Oliver’s Market. Close to The Bar. Close to that sketchy cafe. The cafe where we kissed. That was nice. Hey, I heard that they’re empty next Tuesday, maybe we can sneak in, smash a couple windows, or-“
“Stop trying to distract me Elliot. All that ‘fooling around’ ended when we broke up. Now tell me: What. Happened. To. The. Shipment?!” By this point Octavia was so annoyed that she didn’t care if someone heard her or not.
“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll tell you. The shipment was supposed to come at 6:05 in the morning, like you said. The truck came, right on time, and my team went to pick it up.”
“Which team?”
Silence. Then, as if yielding a secret, “Level 1. Not my smartest decision, I’ll admit that.”
Octavia seethed. She wanted to yell, she wanted to punch a wall, no, punch the idiot she was talking to.
How could he trust a Level 1 team to do the important task of picking up a secret shipment?!
She sneered. “A Level 1 team, Elli? Level 1? I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t know you were this stupid.”
“Alright, I’m sorry! It was a dumb order, but what else could I do? My other teams were busy. Level 2 was out bringing guns to one of the storage facilities, Level 4 was taking stock of the artillery and gadgets inventory, and Level 5 was with the other generals, figuring out when and where to strike next. So what the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Send in Level 3. Duh.”
Pause. “Well, I was, um, really stressed with work, and stuff, so I didn’t think to send them in. They’re a very forgettable team too, so, yeah.”
Octavia sighed, a headache coming in. “Why did I choose you to pick up the shipment?” Before Elliot could protest, she added “ what happened next?”
“Level 1 went to the location on the mini-airship. I don’t really know the details of what happened next, only the summary from the cameras. Apparently, the team quickly got into the airship after the delivery was inside. They then flew off, but not back to us. Before being disabled, the trackers showed us that the airship flew to the direction of Mixa, towards the East border. We were betrayed,”
No shit Sherlock “and now I’m in trouble. The higher-ups want to meet with me and “discuss,” but you and I both know what will really happen. I could get fired. You’ve gotta help me Octavia!”
Octavia pinched the bridge of her nose and clenched her other hand into a small fist. “How do you expect me to help? What will I even say? “Yes officers, Elliot did send in the least trustworthy, worst team to pick up a secret delivery that, if in our possession, would have greatly improved our equipment, giving us a huge advantage. But at least he only flirts with his co-workers 90% of the time.” Plus, this is your fault, so you shouldn’t drag me into this. I’m already having enough trouble as it is, working undercover. So no, I will not help you.”
“Okay, okay, I hear you. But can't you at least send in another delivery, maybe me delivering it to them will help-“ Octavia quickly shot him down, a new fury arising.
“Do you not hear anything that I say to you?! I told you that getting more of those resources again is next to impossible! That was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, getting those resources, and you ruined it! And you have the nerve to ask me to get more? I can’t believe you Elliot. When I go back to base to give my report, I’m going to-“
Before she could describe how she’ll murder him, the sound of distinct voices drifted to her ears. The sound got louder, as if getting closer. Octavia silently cussed.
Elliot spoke in response to her sudden silence. “What’s wrong?”
“People are coming. We’re gonna have to cut the conversation short, Elliot. Don’t think that I’m done with you though!” She added as she heard a silent sigh of relief from his end. A groan followed soon after that.
“I look forward to your next call then. Cya.” He abruptly hung up, not wanting another earful of Octavia’s insults.
As they hung up, two men rounded the corner. They kept on chatting, oblivious to anything else. When they passed Octavia, they got more tense and lowered their voices, bowing their heads to her in respect. Passing her, the two men resumed their previous state.
Octavia presumed to make her way to the Simulation’s chambers. She was deep in thought over the phone conversation and what she should do now. First, she has to deal with idiotic Simon. Then, she has to deal with stupid Elliot. I’m surrounded by idiots, she thought to herself. She slowed her steps as she arrived, walking towards the counter.
The woman at the counter nervously smiled at her. “Hello ma’am. Welcome to the Simulator’s chambers. How can I help you? Are you here to experience a simulation, or to visit?” Although the woman talked without a stutter, her hands were clenched in nervous fists. She was afraid of saying something to offend Octavia, so she remained as stiff as humanly possible.
“I’m here for visiting. Name is Simon Cosmos,” here the woman made a face of disapproval, then quickly changed it back to her nervous smile. Simon must have been bothering her, Octavia thought. At least this means he’s awake.
“Ah yes, the prince. Quite the young man. He is awake now, and being, well, his usual self. Bu-but I’m sure he is a very nice boyfriend.” The woman quickly added this.
“And who’s boyfriend do you think he belongs to?” Octavia felt offended that this woman would think that she would pick to be with someone as idiotic and spoiled as Simon.
The woman, beginning to see her misunderstanding, widened her eyes in horror. “O-oh my apologies Mi-miss! I’m so sorry, I thought that you two were, well,”
“Together? Do you think that I would pick someone like Simon to be my partner? You insult me.”
“I-I apologize! It was a terrible mistake to make. Please forgive me!” The poor woman was close to tears at the thought of angering Octavia. She risked a glance at her, expecting to find a look of fury and disappointment on her.
But Octavia just stood there, smiling. This scared the woman more than if she were mad, for what is there to smile at? “I see. Well in that case, I should reward you for apologizing, no?”
The woman was dumbfounded. Is this not the infamously evil manager that everyone is so afraid of? Why is she not slapping me, or berating me with insults, or embarrassing me? Instead, she is going to… give me something? What is going on here?
“Th-thank you Miss, but this gesture is too kind! No need to give me something.”
“Oh? So will you refuse my gift and insult me in such a way?” Before the woman could make excuses and excessively apologize, Octavia continued. “I insist to give you something. So expect to find a package at your desk soon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see my non-boyfriend.”
“Ah yes! He is in room 1002. Here’s the pass,” a slender hand shakily grabbed one of the passes from the hooks and handed it to Octavia.
Octavia grabbed the pass in one fluid motion, like water flowing in a river. “I best head on then.”
Octavia walked down the hallway that had the rooms 1000-2000. Arriving at the door of room 1002, Octavia sent a message to one of her drones, ordering it to deliver a package of paint explosives to a certain desk in the Simulation offices. When the box is opened and the explosives are exposed to air, they will explode, causing foul-smelling paint to fly everywhere. The paint can’t be cleaned off and will stay where it’s at for 5 days. The paint leaves dark splotches in its path, and the awful smell stays. Good riddance to that woman, Octavia thought.
With that in mind, Octavia turned the handle and entered the room, bracing herself for a frustrating afternoon.
ns 18.68.41.148da2
