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Chapter 26: Axioms of Attachment The rhythm hardened, no longer settling but carving. Like relentless water on stone, the measured cadence within the beige room etched deeper grooves onto Elian’s psyche, now layered with a more insidious dread than the immediate terror following his failed escape. Wake. Stretch under the flat luminescence. Consume paste, absence punctuated by engineered hints. Engage the alien glyphs – logic bent sideways, demanding translation. Pause. Paste. Glyphs. Controlled recreation. Managed wind-down. Sleep. Repeat. The fear wasn't of imminent disposal anymore; that phase felt brutally clarified by the interrogation. Now, it coiled around the horrifying unknowns: the nature of his sustained value, the true meaning of 'integration', and whether the fragile 'safety' was merely a holding pattern before assimilation or a different kind of dissolution. Compliance wasn't chosen; it was the residue of trauma, the logical byproduct of the interrogation’s systematic

Juno stood up, her towering form rising above the city skyline like a living monolith. Her movements alone caused further devastation. As she shifted her weight, the ground buckled and cracked beneath her colossal Martian boots, leaving gaping craters that consumed streets, cars, and buildings alike. Tremors radiated out in waves, shaking the earth for miles. People even far beyond the city limits found themselves struggling to stand as the shockwaves reverberated across the landscape. With every step, Juno felt her power surge. Her boots slammed into the earth, each impact a symphony of destruction. Her laughter rang out like a booming thunderclap, mocking the insignificant creatures scurrying beneath her. The more she walked, the more powerful she felt, and the more she enjoyed the fear she instilled in the fleeing crowds below. “Run all you want,” she taunted, her voice echoing through the streets. “You can’t hide from me.” As she looked ahead, her eyes caught sight of one of the

It's strange. At least for her it is. The different demons that moved about setting up what they deemed to be washing up for here was strange. She was given a thin robe and instructed to sit in a hot room with steam in it. She found that quite particular. Never the less, she also asked for a warm basin of water as well as her bag. Within the bag were oils and cleaning material that were part of her daily routines. Even though she must live in this part of the world, she couldn't let go of what she was used to. Or how she used everything to ensure she was thoroughly as clean as she felt after such a long journey. She left her hair as it was not in need of cleaning just yet. Perhaps the next rain storm that she could smell on the wind would be the perfect time to do such a lengthy time consuming process. After all, she had no one else but herself to help. She exhaled slowly, as they dress her in their cultural clothing for a wedding attire. She exhaled once more.

Dark Universe Written by Andrew Downs and Thomas Lapeyrouse III    Several nights later, the glow of the moonlit sky filtered through an open window in a room at Queen’s College, providing Mina a calming presence in an otherwise weary filled day. Sitting at the smaller of the two desks in her classroom, Mina diligently preparing for the upcoming first day of class, going over the final notes and lessons... though she knew more than half of what she’d written over the summer would be disregarded and thrown out the next day. As an assistant teacher, Mina found joy in many aspects of her role, yet there were three things she disliked the most.    Firstly, the endless paperwork. Mina hated being bogged down doing all the paperwork by hand for her class, finding it tedious and time-consuming. She wished she could bring her typewriter to work, a cherished gift from Jonathan. That’d not only make work run much faster, but she could also be swept away by her memories. At home, Mina

Our society is built on the fundamental belief that one cannot be truly Japanese without unquestioned loyality und unconditional service towards ones superiors. Wheter this would be towards the government, ones employer or simply anyone of higher social rank within the system. We are raised with the belief that anything less would be selfish and shameful, because it would be against the good of all. But I dare you to ask one question: What does the good of all even mean, when nobody has the freedom to persue true happiness in their lives? Everbody knows it and only very few dare to say it: To be Japanese means living in misery and dying without hope, because there will never be a better and brighter future for our children and their children. It means to sacrifice everything to maintain an empire that consumes anything and gives nothing back in return. To question the empire, its leaders and ones own role within this machine is nothing to be ashamed of. It is a first seemingly small