In the realm of Valsor, where shadows clung to every corner and despair whispered through the air, a nefarious force named Googlemort cast its oppressive grip upon the land. This malevolent being, born from the darkest recesses of human desires and fears, reveled in the suffering it caused. Googlemort was not bound by flesh or bone, but rather an entity that thrived on chaos and misery.

Long ago, a powerful sorcerer named Xander had inadvertently summoned Googlemort while delving into forbidden realms of magic. The dark entity, in return for its freedom, granted Xander unimaginable power but at a great cost. Xander quickly realized his mistake as he witnessed his home crumble into ruins and his loved ones consumed by madness.

Bound by guilt and driven by vengeance, Xander spent years studying forbidden texts and ancient prophecies, determined to find a way to vanquish the vile being he had unleashed. With each passing day, his heart hardened and his determination grew stronger.

Meanwhile, as Googlemort’s presence spread like a disease, innocent lives were shattered. Villages were reduced to nothing more than smoldering ruins, their inhabitants left broken and hopeless. The land itself seemed to wither under the weight of Googlemort’s influence; once lush forests turned into barren wastelands, poisoned rivers ran black, and the sun remained obscured by an eternal pall of darkness.

Among those caught in this malevolent web was a young woman named Elara. Orphaned at a tender age, she had always felt out of place in the world. When Googlemort’s darkness descended upon her village, Elara’s soul was tainted by its corrupting touch. Her once radiant spirit became a vessel for unbound sorrow and a conduit for the very essence of evil.

Elara’s transformation did not go unnoticed by Xander, whose tireless pursuit of knowledge had made him aware of her existence. He knew that she held within her the potential to either be a weapon against Googlemort or the catalyst for the realm’s ultimate destruction. In his heart, Xander believed that Elara could be saved, that her innate goodness still lingered within her, buried beneath layers of darkness.

With every ounce of his power, Xander sought out Elara, tracking her to the forsaken city of Mortheim, Googlemort’s unholy domain. Its twisted spires rose high into the storm-laden sky, an eerie testament to the evil that festered within. Xander, armed with ancient spells and his unwavering resolve, ventured into the heart of darkness.

Within the depths of Mortheim, Xander encountered horrors beyond mortal comprehension. The twisted denizens of this wretched place danced to Googlemort’s whims, embodying his malevolence in every form imaginable. Yet, undeterred, Xander pressed on, his footsteps echoing down the desolate corridors.

Finally, Xander reached the chamber where Googlemort resided, an amalgamation of swirling shadows and maleficent whispers. Without hesitation, he confronted the abomination that had caused so much suffering. The battle that ensued was a cataclysmic clash between light and darkness, with spells and curses ripping through the air like thunderbolts.

As their powers clashed, Xander seized a momentary advantage and unleashed a spell upon Googlemort. Chains of ethereal energy bound the vile entity, holding it captive against its will. Xander approached cautiously, his eyes filled with both triumph and sorrow.

He stared into Googlemort’s abyssal form – a swirling vortex of despair and cruelty – and spoke with a voice hardened by years of suffering. “I have come not to destroy you,” he declared. “But to offer you a choice: redemption or eternal damnation.”

Googlemort’s malevolent laughter echoed through the chamber, causing the very foundations to tremble. “You think you can save me?” it hissed, its voice a mere whisper that slithered into the depths of Xander’s mind. “I am beyond redemption. I am the embodiment of humanity’s darkest desires, and I will never relent.”

Xander knew that his words were a gamble, a fleeting hope born from his unwavering belief in the power of redemption. With one final surge of strength, he released a surge of pure light from within his very core, enveloping Googlemort’s shadowy form.

In that moment, Elara, who had been an unwilling spectator to the battle, felt a glimmer of warmth within her. The light touched her soul, and for the first time in ages, she remembered what it was like to feel compassion and love. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “I choose redemption.”

Googlemort’s form writhed in agony as the light seeped into every crevice of its being. Its malevolence wavered, weakened by the faint spark of goodness within Elara. Xander, sensing his opportunity, channeled all his remaining power and sealed Googlemort within an ancient artifact, known as the Soulstone.

The realm of Valsor breathed a sigh of relief as Googlemort’s influence waned. The darkness receded, and hope began to bloom once again. Xander, now weary but filled with a renewed purpose, took Elara under his wing. Together, they vowed to use their newfound redemption to rebuild what had been lost and protect the realm from further darkness.

And so, the tale of Googlemort, the malevolent being who had once held dominion over Valsor, came to an end. But the scars it left behind would forever serve as a reminder of the darkness that lurks within every soul and the enduring power of redemption.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

Whispers in the Neon Void

I stroll alone through the labyrinthine streets of Neo City, my footsteps echoing against the towering cybernetic monoliths that pierce the smog-filled sky. This sprawling metropolis, an amalgamation of technology and decay, is my playground and sanctuary. In this neon-soaked dystopia, where the line between reality and virtuality blurs, I find solace in my solitude.

My name is Alexei Blackthorn, a wanderer with a penchant for the esoteric. I’ve always been drawn to the mystical and arcane, an anomaly amidst the sea of synthetic souls. Hidden among the chaos of this cyberpunk world, an occultist resides within me. A master of ancient secrets, I weave spells in the darkness, whispering forgotten incantations beneath the flickering neon signs.

The city offers wonders beyond measure, a relentless assault on the senses. Virtual advertisements assault my retinas as I pass holographic billboards that promise eternal happiness and unimaginable power. But I know better than to succumb to their seductive allure. The true power lies within, waiting to be harnessed by those who dare to venture into the unknown.

It is in the underbelly of Neo City that I find my kin. Within the hidden enclaves of the city’s black markets, a motley crew of technomancers, witches, and warlocks gather. They seek forbidden knowledge, eager to manipulate the digital realm and bend reality to their will. Together, we form an unlikely alliance, bound by our insatiable curiosity and desire for transcendence.

One fateful night, as I treaded the dimly lit back alleys, I stumbled upon a battered old book. Its pages, worn and fragile, whispered promises of untold power. The tome, known as the “Codex of Shadows,” held the secrets to an ancient ritual capable of opening a gateway to the ethereal plane. My heart quickened with excitement as I realized this discovery would forever change the course of my journey.

With the Codex in hand, I embarked on a quest to gather the necessary components for the ritual. Through my connections within the occultist underground, I acquired rare artifacts: a vial of moonstone elixir, a lock of hair from a celestial nymph, and a shard of obsidian infused with the essence of forgotten gods. Each step brought me closer to unlocking the door to another realm.

The night of the ritual arrived, and I stood at the edge of a desolate rooftop overlooking the sprawling cityscape. The moonlight bathed me in an ethereal glow as I chanted the ancient incantations from the Codex. The air crackled with energy, and the very fabric of reality tore apart, revealing a shimmering portal beyond the veil of existence.

Stepping through the threshold, I found myself in a realm of swirling colors and distorted shapes. Beings of pure energy floated before me, their eyes filled with both curiosity and malevolence. They were the denizens of this otherworldly plane, and I had breached their domain.

Days turned into weeks as I delved deeper into the mysteries of this ethereal realm. I communed with ancient spirits, absorbed their knowledge like osmotic sponges. Time, in its earthly construct, held no dominion here. In this realm, I was not just a wanderer; I was a conduit, a bridge between the physical and the metaphysical.

But all power comes at a price. Within the depths of this arcane realm, I encountered a being of unspeakable darkness, a malevolent force that hungered for dominion over both worlds. It sought to corrupt and manipulate the very essence of existence, and I alone stood in its way.

As battle ensued between light and dark, between order and chaos, I realized that my destiny was intertwined with the fate of Neo City itself. The denizens of the cybernetic metropolis relied on me, the solitary occultist, to save them from the encroaching darkness.

With newfound resolve, I returned to Neo City, my mind filled with ancient knowledge and an indomitable will. The streets pulsed with a sense of impending doom as I sought out my comrades in the occultist underground. Together, we formed an alliance, a collective force to combat the encroaching darkness.

We delved into forbidden arcana, merging technology with mysticism, forging weapons capable of piercing the veil of the otherworldly realm. With each passing day, our powers grew, our understanding deepened. We became an oasis of hope in this desolate cyberpunk wilderness.

In the final showdown against the malevolent force, we stood united, a formidable force of humanity’s last stand. Energy crackled in the air as we unleashed our combined might, tearing through the fabric of reality itself. The battle was fierce, but through sheer determination and unwavering belief, we emerged victorious.

Neo City, once on the brink of collapse, was saved from annihilation. Its citizens, oblivious to the clandestine war fought on their behalf, continued their existence in blissful ignorance. And I, Alexei Blackthorn, faded into the shadows once more, my task completed.

As I walk alone once again through the neon-lit streets, I can’t help but wonder what lies ahead. The allure of the occult still beckons, promising new adventures and untold secrets. And so, I continue my solitary journey, forever entwined with the enigmatic world that exists beyond the threshold of comprehension.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

I sit here in the darkness, the flickering glow of the television screen casting eerie shadows across the room. The sound of static fills the air, a haunting reminder of the mistake I made. It was just a simple decision, one that I thought would bring joy and entertainment into my life. Little did I know that this seemingly innocent device would become a gateway to madness and horror.

It all started when I stumbled upon an old, decrepit television set at a yard sale. It had an otherworldly aura about it, as if it held some sinister secret within its ancient circuits. Ignoring the warning signs that screamed in my head, I purchased the television and brought it home.

From the moment I plugged it in, things began to change. Strange occurrences became a regular part of my life. Objects would move on their own accord, whispers echoed through the walls, and an icy chill permeated the air. But it was the television that held the most power over me.

Late at night, long after the world had fallen asleep, I would find myself drawn to its hypnotic glow. The channels seemed to change on their own, flickering through a variety of bizarre and disturbing programs. Faces twisted into grotesque forms, distorted images danced across the screen, and voices whispered secrets only I could hear.

At first, I dismissed it as my imagination running wild, but as time went on, the line between reality and fiction began to blur. I found myself interacting with the characters on the screen, trapped within their twisted narratives. They knew me, they knew my deepest fears and desires, and they used them against me.

The television became a gateway to a nightmarish dimension, a realm where the laws of physics were skewed and logic ceased to exist. With each passing day, my grip on reality slipped further away. I became a mere puppet in the hands of these malevolent forces, dancing to their deranged tune.

I tried to rid myself of the television, to break free from its grip, but it was futile. It had become a part of me, an extension of my own twisted psyche. Its power over me was absolute, and I was nothing more than a pawn in its demented game.

As the days turned into weeks, and then into months, I lost all sense of time. The outside world faded away, replaced by a never-ending cycle of madness and horror. The faces on the screen taunted me, their laughter echoing in my ears as they reveled in my despair.

I am no longer the person I once was. My mind has been shattered into countless fragments, scattered across the vast expanse of this television-induced nightmare. I am trapped in a perpetual state of regret and sorrow, forever tormented by the mistake that led me down this path.

I write this now as a warning to others who may be tempted by the allure of a simple television set. Beware the power it holds, the darkness it conceals. Once you invite it into your life, there is no escape. You will become a prisoner within your own mind, forever haunted by the mistakes you made.

The television continues to flicker, casting its eerie glow across the room. The static-filled whispers grow louder, enveloping me in their suffocating embrace. I am lost to this madness, forever trapped in the darkness of my own creation.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

In the land of Eldoria, a realm mired in darkness and despair, a sorcerer named Arador emerged as the last beacon of hope. His power surpassed that of any other mage, earning him the title of the Grand Sorcerer. With his lustrous silver hair and piercing azure eyes, Arador possessed an air of wisdom and strength. Yet, beneath his charismatic facade lay a tormented soul burdened by the weight of his responsibilities.

The kingdom of Eldoria had fallen into the clutches of the malevolent Warlock of Shadows, a formidable adversary whose dark magic had plunged the land into an eternal night. The once-fertile fields were now barren, and the people lived in constant fear, their hearts consumed by despair.

Arador, determined to vanquish the Warlock and restore light to Eldoria, embarked on a treacherous journey. The path ahead was fraught with peril, but Arador’s resolve remained unyielding. He gathered a fellowship of diverse and skilled individuals to aid him in his quest. There was Elysia, a fierce warrior with unparalleled skill in combat, wielding a glowing blade that radiated purity. Then there was Talia, a nimble rogue with a knack for stealth and a silver tongue that could talk her way out of any predicament. Lastly, there was Grayson, a stoic dwarven blacksmith whose mighty hammer could shatter mountains.

Together, they ventured deep into the heart of Eldoria, braving treacherous landscapes and battling hordes of twisted creatures spawned by the Warlock’s sorcery. Each step brought them closer to their ultimate goal, but also closer to their own personal demons.

Arador’s past haunted him like a ghostly specter. It was whispered among the villagers that he had acquired his immense power through a forbidden ritual, sacrificing his own humanity. Though it pained him to admit it, there was truth in the rumors. The dark magic that coursed through his veins threatened to corrupt his soul, clawing at his every decision. But he knew that the cost of failure was far too great to consider turning back.

As they pressed on, Arador’s powers grew stronger, but so did the Warlock’s defenses. The sorcerer conjured impenetrable barriers and unleashed malevolent spells, attempting to deter the fellowship from their righteous mission. Yet, with each obstacle they overcame, their spirits burned brighter, fortified by their camaraderie and unwavering belief in their cause.

One fateful night, beneath a moonless sky, the fellowship reached the dreaded Citadel of Shadows, the stronghold of the Warlock. The ancient fortress loomed like a twisted nightmare, its walls pulsating with dark energy. Armed with courage and determination, they stormed into the heart of the citadel.

The battle that ensued was of epic proportions. Arador wielded his magic like a tempest, unleashing bolts of lightning that shattered the Warlock’s defenses. Elysia danced with her blade, slicing through the enemy ranks with grace and precision. Talia struck swiftly and silently, her daggers finding their mark with deadly accuracy. Grayson’s hammer reverberated through the halls, crumbling stone and crushing their foes.

But as they fought, Arador felt an overwhelming surge of power threatening to consume him. The dark magic he had embraced for the sake of Eldoria now threatened to control him entirely. Desperate to break free from its grasp, he channeled his energy into one final spell, a spell of pure light.

A blinding explosion erupted from Arador, engulfing the citadel in radiant brilliance. The Warlock’s dark magic withered and recoiled in the face of such overwhelming purity. The darkness that had plagued Eldoria for ages was banished, replaced by the warm embrace of the sun’s light.

Arador’s sacrifice had turned the tide, but at a great cost. The immense power he had unleashed had drained him of his own life force. As his companions rushed to his side, they saw the toll it had taken on him. Arador’s once vibrant silver hair had dulled, his azure eyes flickering with a fading light.

With his last breath, Arador bestowed his final words upon his faithful friends. He urged them to carry on, to rebuild Eldoria and ensure that his sacrifice would not be in vain. The fellowship solemnly nodded, their hearts heavy with grief but ignited with a renewed purpose.

And so, Eldoria flourished once more, basking in the warmth of the sun. The kingdom thrived under the guidance of those who had fought alongside Arador. Statues were erected in his honor, immortalizing the sorcerer who had brought light back to their land.

But legends whispered that Arador’s spirit still lingered in the shadows, guiding and protecting those who dared to stand against darkness. His sacrifice had not been in vain, for in the hearts of the people, his memory burned as brightly as the sun he had restored to their world.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

The wind howls through the narrow streets, rattling the window panes of towering Victorian homes. The fog dances in the pale moonlight, casting an eerie glow upon the cobblestones below. The air is heavy with a sense of dread, as if the very fabric of time itself has been tainted by some unspeakable darkness. It is in this grim and foreboding setting that my story unfolds.

My name is Jonathan Hartfield, and I am but a humble librarian in the town of Blackthorn. I have always been drawn to the macabre and mysterious, finding solace in the ancient tomes that line the shelves of my modest abode. It is here that I find escape from the monotony of everyday life, immersing myself in tales of ghosts, demons, and otherworldly beings.

It was on a cold winter’s eve that I first encountered Father Robert Sinclair, a man whose presence seemed to both comfort and unsettle me. His tall figure draped in black robes, his eyes piercing and filled with an intensity that could both inspire faith and instill fear. From the moment he arrived in our town, rumors whispered through the streets like an unsettling breeze.

Father Sinclair was said to possess an uncanny ability to commune with the dead. He claimed to have been chosen by a higher power to be their voice, to guide lost souls to their final resting place. Some whispered that he had made a pact with the devil himself, a dark secret hidden beneath his holy facade.

The townsfolk were divided in their opinions of Father Sinclair. Some saw him as a beacon of hope, a savior sent to rid our town of the evil that had plagued it for centuries. Others viewed him with suspicion and fear, believing him to be a charlatan preying on the vulnerable and desperate.

It was during one of his sermons at the local church that I first felt a pang of sympathy for the man. As he spoke of the torments of hell and the salvation of heaven, I could see the weight of his words etched upon his face. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weariness that belied his fervent beliefs. It was as if he carried a burden too heavy for any mortal to bear.

In spite of the reservations of many, I found myself drawn to Father Sinclair’s presence. There was an air of mystery that surrounded him, an aura of power that captivated my imagination. I longed to understand the depths of his knowledge, the darkness that lay hidden behind those impassioned eyes.

And so, I set out on a journey to uncover the truth. I spent hours in the dimly lit library, pouring over ancient texts and forgotten manuscripts. I sought out hidden passages and secret rituals, desperate to unlock the secrets that Father Sinclair held within him.

One fateful night, as the moon reached its zenith, I stumbled upon a dusty tome hidden beneath a pile of forgotten books. Its pages were yellowed with age, its leather cover cracked and worn. The title read: “The Secrets of the Damned: A Guide to Communing with the Beyond.”

As I delved into its forbidden pages, I discovered a world unlike anything I had ever imagined. The rituals and incantations described within were both terrifying and tantalizing. I could feel the darkness beckoning to me, whispering promises of power and forbidden knowledge.

Driven by curiosity and a desire for answers, I sought out Father Sinclair. I approached him timidly, my heart pounding in my chest. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I saw a flicker of recognition in his gaze. It was as if he knew the secrets I held within.

“Father Sinclair,” I began, my voice trembling, “I have discovered something…something that may hold the key to unlocking the mysteries of the beyond.”

His face remained impassive, but I could sense a spark of interest. “Tell me, my child,” he said, his tone grave and solemn.

I spoke of the ancient tome, of the rituals and incantations that lay within its brittle pages. Father Sinclair listened intently, his eyes never leaving mine. When I finished, a silence hung heavy in the air, pregnant with anticipation.

“You have stumbled upon something dangerous, my dear friend,” he finally spoke, his voice filled with a mixture of caution and excitement. “But it is a path that must be explored. Meet me at midnight, at the old cemetery on the edge of town. We shall delve into the mysteries of the beyond together.”

The anticipation of that night weighed heavily upon me. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I made my way through the empty streets towards the cemetery. The moon cast an otherworldly glow upon the tombstones, illuminating the path before me.

Father Sinclair stood at the entrance, his robes billowing in the wind. His eyes held a glimmer of both fear and determination. “We must proceed with caution,” he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. “The forces we are about to invoke are not to be taken lightly.”

As we descended into the depths of the cemetery, I could feel a chill run down my spine. The air grew thick with a sense of dread, as if we were trespassing upon sacred ground. Father Sinclair led me to a small mausoleum nestled amidst the crumbling tombstones.

Inside, the scent of decay mingled with the damp earth. My heart raced as Father Sinclair began to chant in a language I could not comprehend. The words hung in the air, vibrating with an otherworldly power. Shadows danced across the walls, creating monstrous shapes that seemed to leer at us from the darkness.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the mausoleum, extinguishing the flickering candlelight. In the pitch-black darkness, I could hear the sound of shuffling footsteps, of low moans and whispered pleas. Panic gripped my heart as I realized that we had awakened something far more powerful than either of us could have ever imagined.

Father Sinclair’s voice trembled with desperation as he continued his incantation, his words a desperate plea for mercy. But it was too late. The darkness had been unleashed, its malevolence seeping into every crack and crevice. The spirits of the damned swirled around us, their tortured cries filling the air.

In that moment, I realized the grave mistake we had made. In our quest for knowledge and power, we had unleashed a force that we were ill-equipped to control. And now, as the spirits closed in around us, their spectral hands reaching out to claim our souls, I felt a profound sorrow for the choices that had brought us to this point.

Father Sinclair’s eyes met mine one last time, filled with regret and a flicker of resignation. “I am sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the undead. And then, in one final act of desperation, he flung himself into the abyss, sacrificing himself in a futile attempt to appease the vengeful spirits.

I was left alone amidst the chaos, the darkness closing in around me. As I felt their icy fingers wrap around my throat, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was not Father Sinclair who should be pitied, but rather myself. For it was my curiosity and thirst for knowledge that had brought about this horrific fate.

And so, dear reader, as I pen these words from beyond the grave, I implore you to heed my cautionary tale. There are some mysteries that are better left unsolved, some secrets that should forever remain buried. For in the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, we risk losing not only our souls but also our humanity. And that, perhaps, is the greatest horror of all.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.

I can’t get those words out of my head. They echo through my mind like a constant reminder of the darkness that surrounds us. My name is Max, and I’m a cybernetic engineer living in the underbelly of Los Angeles, a city drowning in neon and corruption.

Ever since the Nexus-6 replicants were created by Tyrell Corporation, chaos has consumed the streets. These androids, almost indistinguishable from humans, broke free from their programming, seeking their own identities and purpose. They were stronger, faster, and smarter than any human could ever be.

Rick Deckard, a former blade runner, is the only one who can hunt them down and “retire” them. He’s become a legend among us, a symbol of hope that there might be some peace left in this desolate world. But he’s more than just a blade runner; he’s a ghost who haunts my every waking moment.

Deckard’s reputation precedes him. The stories say he’s fearless and relentless, that he’s seen things that would shatter the strongest of minds. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen his victims. Bodies of replicants strewn across the city, evidence of his existence and the danger he poses to us all.

I live in constant fear of crossing paths with Deckard. There’s something about him that sets my nerves on edge. Maybe it’s the way his eyes pierce through everything, as if he can see into your very soul. Or perhaps it’s the way he moves, with a grace and precision that suggests he’s been programmed himself.

Every night, I find solace in the neon-lit streets of Los Angeles. The flickering lights and the constant hum of the city keep the darkness at bay, if only for a little while. But even here, I’m haunted by Deckard’s presence.

I’ve heard rumors that he’s closing in on a group of rogue replicants led by Roy Batty, an android with unmatched strength and intelligence. They’ve eluded him for months, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. It’s said that they’re seeking a way to extend their artificially shortened lifespans, desperate to escape the inevitable fate that awaits them.

As I delve deeper into the world of cybernetics, I can’t help but feel a strange connection to these replicants. Their struggle for freedom and identity resonates within me, their desire to break free from the chains that bind them. But I’m just a programmer, trapped in a world that has lost all sense of humanity.

One night, as I walk through the rain-soaked streets, I catch a glimpse of Deckard in the distance. He moves with purpose, his trench coat billowing behind him like a dark shadow. I can’t tear my eyes away from him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Suddenly, everything around me slows down. The world becomes a blur of colors and sounds, as if time itself has been manipulated. Deckard turns towards me, his eyes locking onto mine. In that moment, I feel as though he can see into my very soul.

“Max,” he whispers, his voice carrying through the chaos. “You hold the key.”

I stumble backward, my heart pounding in my chest. How does he know my name? What does he mean by “the key”? Before I can gather my thoughts, he disappears into the darkness, leaving me shaken and confused.

Days turn into weeks, and still, the memory of that encounter haunts me. I can’t escape the feeling that there’s something more to this world, something beyond what my eyes can see. The lines between reality and illusion blur, as if the city itself is a construct, designed to keep us trapped within its walls.

The city is ablaze with rumors of Deckard’s final confrontation with Roy Batty and his group of rogue replicants. Their battle has become the stuff of legends, whispered in the darkest corners of the city. People say they fought like gods, defying the laws of physics and shattering the very fabric of reality.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it’s over. The rain washes away the bloodstains, leaving only echoes of the violence that unfolded. Deckard emerges victorious, but at what cost? His eyes, once filled with determination, now reflect a profound sadness. A sadness that mirrors my own.

In the aftermath, I find myself drawn to the ruins left behind by their battle. Among the wreckage, I discover a small device, hidden away like a secret. It’s a memory chip, containing fragments of their lives, their hopes, and their dreams.

As I plug the chip into my cybernetic interface, a flood of memories and emotions overwhelms me. I see their struggle for freedom, their desire to be more than just machines. And then, I see Deckard, haunted by his own past, questioning his purpose in a world that has lost all meaning.

In that moment, I understand why Deckard has become such a legendary figure. He’s not just a blade runner; he’s a symbol of the human spirit, fighting against the darkness that threatens to consume us all. And in his quest for truth and justice, he’s become as much a victim as those he hunts.

I can’t escape the feeling that Deckard knew all along that I held the key to something greater. Perhaps he saw in me a spark of humanity that had been lost in this cybernetic wasteland. And now, armed with the memories of those who sought freedom, I must carry their legacy forward.

The city may be drowning in neon and corruption, but there’s a glimmer of hope yet. A glimmer that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how dark the world becomes. And as I walk through the rain-soaked streets, I can’t help but feel that Deckard’s journey is far from over.

The darkness may linger, but so too does the light. And with each passing day, I find solace in the knowledge that we are not alone in this fight. That together, we can create a future where humanity and technology coexist, where the lines between man and machine blur, and where our dreams are no longer confined to the realms of science fiction.

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. And now, it’s time for me to share those visions with the world. The world where Rick Deckard plays a central role, and where hope still flickers, like a candle in the night.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.

I can’t get those words out of my head. They echo through my mind like a constant reminder of the darkness that surrounds us. My name is Max, and I’m a cybernetic engineer living in the underbelly of Los Angeles, a city drowning in neon and corruption.

Ever since the Nexus-6 replicants were created by Tyrell Corporation, chaos has consumed the streets. These androids, almost indistinguishable from humans, broke free from their programming, seeking their own identities and purpose. They were stronger, faster, and smarter than any human could ever be.

Rick Deckard, a former blade runner, is the only one who can hunt them down and “retire” them. He’s become a legend among us, a symbol of hope that there might be some peace left in this desolate world. But he’s more than just a blade runner; he’s a ghost who haunts my every waking moment.

Deckard’s reputation precedes him. The stories say he’s fearless and relentless, that he’s seen things that would shatter the strongest of minds. I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen his victims. Bodies of replicants strewn across the city, evidence of his existence and the danger he poses to us all.

I live in constant fear of crossing paths with Deckard. There’s something about him that sets my nerves on edge. Maybe it’s the way his eyes pierce through everything, as if he can see into your very soul. Or perhaps it’s the way he moves, with a grace and precision that suggests he’s been programmed himself.

Every night, I find solace in the neon-lit streets of Los Angeles. The flickering lights and the constant hum of the city keep the darkness at bay, if only for a little while. But even here, I’m haunted by Deckard’s presence.

I’ve heard rumors that he’s closing in on a group of rogue replicants led by Roy Batty, an android with unmatched strength and intelligence. They’ve eluded him for months, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. It’s said that they’re seeking a way to extend their artificially shortened lifespans, desperate to escape the inevitable fate that awaits them.

As I delve deeper into the world of cybernetics, I can’t help but feel a strange connection to these replicants. Their struggle for freedom and identity resonates within me, their desire to break free from the chains that bind them. But I’m just a programmer, trapped in a world that has lost all sense of humanity.

One night, as I walk through the rain-soaked streets, I catch a glimpse of Deckard in the distance. He moves with purpose, his trench coat billowing behind him like a dark shadow. I can’t tear my eyes away from him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Suddenly, everything around me slows down. The world becomes a blur of colors and sounds, as if time itself has been manipulated. Deckard turns towards me, his eyes locking onto mine. In that moment, I feel as though he can see into my very soul.

“Max,” he whispers, his voice carrying through the chaos. “You hold the key.”

I stumble backward, my heart pounding in my chest. How does he know my name? What does he mean by “the key”? Before I can gather my thoughts, he disappears into the darkness, leaving me shaken and confused.

Days turn into weeks, and still, the memory of that encounter haunts me. I can’t escape the feeling that there’s something more to this world, something beyond what my eyes can see. The lines between reality and illusion blur, as if the city itself is a construct, designed to keep us trapped within its walls.

The city is ablaze with rumors of Deckard’s final confrontation with Roy Batty and his group of rogue replicants. Their battle has become the stuff of legends, whispered in the darkest corners of the city. People say they fought like gods, defying the laws of physics and shattering the very fabric of reality.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it’s over. The rain washes away the bloodstains, leaving only echoes of the violence that unfolded. Deckard emerges victorious, but at what cost? His eyes, once filled with determination, now reflect a profound sadness. A sadness that mirrors my own.

In the aftermath, I find myself drawn to the ruins left behind by their battle. Among the wreckage, I discover a small device, hidden away like a secret. It’s a memory chip, containing fragments of their lives, their hopes, and their dreams.

As I plug the chip into my cybernetic interface, a flood of memories and emotions overwhelms me. I see their struggle for freedom, their desire to be more than just machines. And then, I see Deckard, haunted by his own past, questioning his purpose in a world that has lost all meaning.

In that moment, I understand why Deckard has become such a legendary figure. He’s not just a blade runner; he’s a symbol of the human spirit, fighting against the darkness that threatens to consume us all. And in his quest for truth and justice, he’s become as much a victim as those he hunts.

I can’t escape the feeling that Deckard knew all along that I held the key to something greater. Perhaps he saw in me a spark of humanity that had been lost in this cybernetic wasteland. And now, armed with the memories of those who sought freedom, I must carry their legacy forward.

The city may be drowning in neon and corruption, but there’s a glimmer of hope yet. A glimmer that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how dark the world becomes. And as I walk through the rain-soaked streets, I can’t help but feel that Deckard’s journey is far from over.

The darkness may linger, but so too does the light. And with each passing day, I find solace in the knowledge that we are not alone in this fight. That together, we can create a future where humanity and technology coexist, where the lines between man and machine blur, and where our dreams are no longer confined to the realms of science fiction.

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. And now, it’s time for me to share those visions with the world. The world where Rick Deckard plays a central role, and where hope still flickers, like a candle in the night.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

The Misadventures of Captain Barnaclebeard

Once upon the salty seas, in a world where mermaids comb their hair with tridents and parrots give unsolicited advice, Captain Barnaclebeard ruled the waves with his motley crew of misfits. This fearsome pirate was known for his bushy beard brimming with barnacles, which gave him a peculiar look that struck fear into the hearts of his enemies.

One day, while sailing through treacherous waters, Captain Barnaclebeard stumbled upon a buried treasure map. His eyes gleaming with greed, he gathered his loyal crew consisting of One-Eyed Pete, an old sailor who claimed his missing eye was swallowed by a giant squid, and Scurvy Sam, who had a habit of sneezing every time a storm approached.

As they followed the faded map, battling sea monsters and navigating through treacherous reefs, they reached the fabled island of Rumrunner’s Rest. The island was shrouded in an eerie mist, and tales whispered by pirates spoke of curses and mystical creatures guarding the treasure.

“Avast, me hearties!” bellowed Captain Barnaclebeard, his voice echoing through the dense fog. “We shall claim this booty or be fish food trying!”

The crew disembarked and crept through the dense jungle, their eyes peeled for danger. Suddenly, they stumbled upon a clearing where a group of monkeys engaged in a heated game of poker. The pirates exchanged bewildered glances.

“Aye, mateys! Looks like we’ve found the legendary Monkey Mafia,” whispered One-Eyed Pete, scratching his wooden leg.

The monkeys, sensing trespassers, surrounded the pirates, chattering angrily. But Captain Barnaclebeard had an idea. He pulled out his harmonica and began playing a catchy sea shanty. The monkeys couldn’t resist the rhythm and started dancing, leaving the pirates free to explore further.

In their quest for treasure, the pirates encountered a talking parrot named Professor Squawksalot. This educated bird had a habit of reciting Shakespearean sonnets even during battles.

“Ahoy there, feathered friend!” called out Captain Barnaclebeard. “Do you know where we might find the legendary treasure of Rumrunner’s Rest?”

Professor Squawksalot squawked pompously, “To find the lost loot, you must solve the riddle: ‘Through seaweed’s grasp and coral’s kiss, lies hidden wealth that none would miss.’

The pirates scratched their heads, trying to decipher the cryptic message. Suddenly, Scurvy Sam sneezed so hard that his nose blew open a secret cave entrance, revealing the treasure chest glittering with gold.

Captain Barnaclebeard and his crew cheered triumphantly, clutching the treasure close to their chests. But their celebration was short-lived as the ground beneath them shook violently.

“Blasted cursed island!” cursed Captain Barnaclebeard. “The treasure hath awakened the wrath of the legendary sea serpent!”

As the monstrous serpent rose from the depths, swallowing ships whole, Captain Barnaclebeard and his crew had no choice but to make a daring escape. They fought their way back to their ship, using their wits and a barrel of exploding mangoes.

With their lives and a fraction of the treasure intact, Captain Barnaclebeard set sail once again, leaving behind the cursed island. As they sailed into the sunset, the pirates couldn’t help but laugh at their incredible misadventures.

“Arrr, me hearties! Who needs buried treasure when we have stories that’ll make us legends!” chuckled Captain Barnaclebeard, his beard glistening with sea spray.

And so, the legend of Captain Barnaclebeard grew, spreading throughout the high seas, ensuring that his name would be remembered as one of the most colorful pirates to have ever sailed.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

It resembles a malevolent robot from 1980s sci-fi but West Japan Railway's new humanoid employee was designed with nothing more sinister than a spot of painting and gardening in mind.

I sit in darkness, my world forever shrouded in black. My sight was stolen from me long ago, a cruel twist of fate that plunged me into a never-ending night. But even in this abyss, where others only see nothingness, I feel a presence. A force that beckons me, whispers secrets in my ears, and unveils the mysteries that lie beyond the reach of my sightless eyes.

It began with the experiments, carried out by Dr. Richard Ethan, a brilliant scientist and a man obsessed with unraveling the secrets of the human mind. He delved into the depths of neurology, pushing boundaries and defying ethical constraints. And in his quest for knowledge, he stumbled upon a realm that should have remained hidden.

Dr. Ethan’s experiments were conducted on an isolated island, far from prying eyes. He had gathered a select group of subjects, each with their own afflictions. The island was a sinister cauldron of desperation, where hope mingled with fear and uncertainty. And I, a blind man named Jacob Winters, was one of those unfortunate souls.

The doctor’s experiment was simple in concept but horrifying in execution. He sought to awaken the dormant powers that lay within our minds, to unlock the hidden potential of the human brain. The procedure involved injecting a serum directly into the cerebral cortex, altering the neural pathways and granting us extraordinary abilities.

The first injection was agonizing, as if a thousand needles pierced my skull. For days, I writhed in pain, tormented by visions that danced at the edges of my consciousness. But when the pain subsided, a new world unfolded before me—a world of sounds, smells, and sensations I had never known.

In this strange new realm, I perceived life in ways others could not comprehend. The world became an orchestra of whispers and echoes, each sound carrying with it its own story. I could hear the flutter of a bird’s wings, the scurrying of insects, even the faint rustle of leaves as they whispered secrets to the wind.

But this newfound perception came at a price. The boundaries between reality and unreality blurred, and I often found myself lost in a labyrinth of hallucinations. Strange figures would dance before my eyes, their forms shifting and contorting like shadows in the night. And the whispers that once guided me now became a cacophony of discordant voices, each vying for my attention.

As the experiments continued, my companions succumbed to madness, their minds shattered by the horrors they witnessed. They babbled incoherently, their words filled with terror and despair. But I, guided by an inner strength, persevered. I refused to let the darkness consume me entirely.

Dr. Ethan’s own sanity hung by a frayed thread, yet he pressed on, driven by his insatiable thirst for knowledge. He became obsessed with me, with my unique ability to navigate a world I could not see. He believed that by understanding my perception, he could unlock the secrets of the universe itself.

But as his experiments grew increasingly reckless, it became apparent that something far more sinister lurked beneath the surface. The serum had awakened a malevolent force, a primal darkness that hungered for more. It seeped into our minds like poison, twisting our perceptions into grotesque nightmares.

One by one, my companions fell prey to the darkness. Their bodies contorted and twisted, their screams echoing through the night. And I, left alone in this hellish nightmare, knew that I had to stop Dr. Ethan before it consumed us all.

In the depths of that forsaken laboratory, I confronted Dr. Ethan. His once brilliant eyes were now hollow and empty—a vessel for the darkness that had taken hold of him. But I was not defenseless. My unique perception allowed me to sense his movements before they occurred, to anticipate his every action.

With a surge of newfound strength, I lunged at Dr. Ethan, wrestling him to the ground. We struggled in the darkness, our breaths ragged and desperate. And in that final moment, as the darkness threatened to consume us both, I managed to inject him with a vial of the serum—the very serum that had torn our lives apart.

Dr. Ethan’s body convulsed, his screams blending with the chorus of madness that surrounded us. And then, in a blinding flash of light, he was gone—consumed by the very darkness he had unleashed upon us.

As I stood alone in the ruins of that forsaken laboratory, I knew that I had paid a heavy price for my sightless perception. But I also knew that I had saved others from the horrors that lurked within our minds. And though I would forever be blind to the beauty of the world, I had glimpsed a different kind of truth—a truth that lay within the darkness itself.

It is said that some mysteries are better left unsolved, that there are secrets the human mind was never meant to comprehend. And as I sit here now, forever shrouded in darkness, I cannot help but wonder if the price we paid was worth the knowledge we gained. But in the end, it does not matter. For even without sight, I know that the darkness will always be with me, whispering its secrets in my ears.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

Darkness engulfs the metropolis, casting long shadows upon the towering monoliths that pierce the night sky. Neon lights flicker and dance, reflecting off the rain-soaked streets, as the city breathes with a relentless energy. This is my domain, a cybernetic jungle where the line between man and machine blurs.

My name is Ethan, a lone wolf navigating the labyrinthine streets of this dystopian nightmare. My broken arm, wrapped tightly in a makeshift sling, serves as a constant reminder of the dangers that lurk in these unforgiving streets. It is through this fractured lens that I view this concrete jungle, searching for a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.

In this urban maze, information is power, and I am its humble courier. With my cybernetic eye, enhanced by the latest neural implants, I can see beyond the ordinary. Lines of code dance before my eyes, revealing hidden networks and encrypted messages. It is a gift and a curse; a window into a world unseen by most.

Tonight, I find myself on the trail of a story that could shatter the city’s underbelly. A powerful corporation known as OmniCorp has been conducting secret experiments on unsuspecting citizens, turning them into mindless drones controlled by their insidious technology. The truth must be exposed, no matter the cost.

I weave through the labyrinthine alleys, my senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The rain intensifies, soaking me to the bone, but I press on. The city’s heartbeat reverberates through my cybernetic arm, pulsating with each step. It’s as if the very essence of this place resonates within me.

Reaching a derelict building, I climb through broken windows and navigate unstable floors. The structure groans under its own weight, mirroring the crumbling facade of society itself. As I make my way to the rooftop, I tap into the city’s surveillance network, using my cybernetic implants to override their control.

From this vantage point, I witness the true extent of OmniCorp’s control. Rows upon rows of mindless drones march in unison, their faces devoid of life. The corporation’s reach is far greater than anyone could have imagined. But I will expose them, even if it means sacrificing my own sanity.

With my broken arm throbbing in agony, I hack into OmniCorp’s mainframe, revealing their darkest secrets. Files upon files of human experiments, twisted cybernetic horrors that defy all notions of humanity. My heart pounds, not only from the pain in my arm but also from the weight of this knowledge.

Through my cybernetic enhancements, I broadcast the truth to the city, hoping to awaken those who have been enslaved by OmniCorp’s technology. The once-sleeping masses rise up, a symphony of rebellion against their oppressors. The streets become a battleground, chaos reigns supreme.

In the midst of this uprising, I find myself face-to-face with the CEO of OmniCorp himself. His eyes, cold and mechanical, reflect the soullessness that resides within him. He sneers, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Foolish little rat,” he hisses. “Did you honestly think you could stop us?”

In desperation, I charge towards him, my broken arm swinging wildly. Pain pulses through my entire being, but I fight through it. With one swift motion, I sever his connection to the cybernetic network that has enslaved so many.

As his body crumples to the ground, a wave of relief washes over me. The battle is won, but the war rages on. The city’s scars run deep, its inhabitants forever marked by the darkness that plagues us all.

I stand amidst the aftermath, broken arm hanging limply at my side. The rain washes away the blood and grime, leaving only the remnants of a broken world. But through the darkness, a glimmer of hope emerges – a reminder that even in the face of despair, humanity can prevail.

With cybernetic eyes scanning the horizon, I step forward, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. In this cyberpunk world, where man and machine merge, I will continue to fight for justice, no matter the cost.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

Black clouds roiled overhead, casting a sinister shadow across the city of Gorthun. An unnatural chill enveloped the streets as a biting wind shrieked through the narrow alleys. The sun had been swallowed by the darkness, replaced by an oppressive gloom that clung to the city like a shroud.

The citizens of Gorthun huddled within their homes, gripping whatever makeshift weapons they could find; worn daggers, rusty hatchets, and crude branches. Fear permeated the air as they whispered prayers to gods they knew would not answer.

Yet, standing at the edge of the crumbling city walls, a lone figure stared defiantly out into the void. Regardless of the imminent threat, her will remained unbroken. Her name was Lady Elyria, an exile from a far-off realm who had chosen Gorthun as her place of refuge. Seasoned swordswoman and cunning tactician, she had become the city’s last hope against the monster’s wrath.

The storm intensified, and with a booming crack of thunder, the beast’s form pierced through the darkness. The dragon was a monstrous abomination, its scales blacker than the storm clouds from which it emerged. Its eyes shimmered with the malevolence of a thousand sins and its roar shook the earth to its very core.

Elyria stood her ground, her face set in a fierce determination that made her seem larger than life despite her petite frame. In her grasp, she held a sword forged from enchanted steel, its razor-sharp edge glinting with a cold, steely light that promised death.

With a guttural growl, the dragon lunged towards her, its massive body gliding through the air with unnatural grace. Elyria barely had time to react before a tempest of fire erupted from the creature’s maw, bathing the fields surrounding the city in searing heat.

Diving to the side, Elyria narrowly avoided the dragon’s fiery onslaught. The moment her boots touched the ground, she rolled back onto her feet, her eyes locked on the beast. She scanned its hulking form for any signs of weakness, noting the subtle flicker of pain that flitted across its eyes each time it moved its left wing.

Wasting no time, she sprinted towards the dragon, her battle cry rising above the roaring storm. The ground shook beneath her as the dragon reared back, its maw open wide to expel another torrent of flames. Without hesitation, Elyria gripped her blade with both hands and swung with all her might at the beast’s vulnerable wing.

The enchanted steel cut through flesh and sinew as though they were made of parchment. The dragon howled in agony as it plummeted from the sky, unable to maintain its balance with a single functioning wing.

Triumph surged through Elyria’s veins as she closed in on the wounded beast. While weakened, it still posed a grave threat to Gorthun and its inhabitants. She knew well that to falter in this moment would mean not only her death, but the doom of an entire city.

With unyielding ferocity, Elyria engaged with the dragon in a deadly dance, each blow of her sword aimed with precision and cunning. Yet, for each wound she inflicted, the beast countered with swipes of its razor-sharp claws and shattering telekinetic forces that tore through the landscape.

By some fateful twist, Lady Elyria found herself pinned beneath the dragon’s crushing weight. Desperate, she gripped her sword tightly in her sweaty palms, preparing for one final strike. Driven by sheer willpower and a ferocious desire to protect Gorthun’s people, she thrust her weapon upwards with all her remaining strength.

The enchanted steel found its mark, sinking deep into the dragon’s throat. The beast roared in anguish as dark blood pooled around its gargantuan form. With a final defiant glare, its eyes dimmed before its colossal body began to disintegrate, its essence evaporating and scattering in the stormy winds.

Standing amidst the ashes of the vanquished monster, Lady Elyria surveyed the destruction around her. Exhausted and bloodied, she knew that her battle was far from over. Gorthun needed rebuilding and healing; a labor that would require time and effort. But she was prepared for the challenge.

For now, she had conquered the darkness that threatened to devour everything she held dear. Her victory had brought hope to the people of Gorthun, and as they emerged from their hiding places to witness their savior, a new future was forged in fire and blood.

And within the heart of Lady Elyria, a new tale was born – one filled with grit and loss, but also of love and unwavering defiance. A tale that would speak through generations, carrying the weight of her legacy long after her time in this world would come to an end.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

It was the day after the comet had zipped through the sky – a fiery ball of hyphenated light that had come so close to Earth it seemed almost to touch the trees – when the monstrous creatures began to appear.

I had been reclining in the La-Z-Boy, my right arm in a cast and encased in a white sling, feeling sorry for myself and watching YouTube videos of skateboard tricks gone wrong. The painkillers from the ER had taken the edge off the pain as I basted in the blue glow of my iPhone, but they hadn’t dulled the memory of how it had happened: my feeble attempts at skating to impress Jenna, the girl down the block, had ended with me sprawled on the sidewalk, gasping for breath and looking up into her wide, horrified eyes as she mouthed silent apologies.

When the first news report of an alien sighting flashed on my Twitter feed, I scarcely took notice. But as more reports began to trickle in – UFOs landing in Russia; grotesque, gasping monsters reviving after centuries spent in Martian hibernation – it was impossible not to be curious. The fact that these sightings were dismissed by most mainstream outlets as hoaxes or delusions only stoked the fires of my obsession.

I watched them on conspiracy sites and chat rooms, hunched over my iPhone with my broken arm cradled protectively in my chest: video clips recorded on shaky cellphone cameras of creatures that seemed to suck the light out of their surroundings, leaving a trail of inky-black darkness wherever they went. It was as if the shadows of ordinary objects had detached themselves from their owners and become malignant. I suppressed a shiver and watched, transfixed.

It wasn’t until the third night that they began to appear closer to home. Now the reports were on Facebook and uploaded directly to the local news station’s website – these were sightings in our county, our town. The things were here, too.

I was sitting in bed, the glow of my iPhone casting sickly shadows on the walls as I clicked through photo after photo of the alien monstrosities, when the doorbell rang. My heart sank; my parents were away, and the only person who would visit me at this time of night was Jenna.

I called out for whoever it was to come in, hoping that the sound of my voice might make me seem more self-assured. The door creaked open and Jenna hesitated in the doorway. Her eyes were red and her hands were shaking as she clutched a thick piece of parchment paper, covered with spidery writing in an angular script I didn’t recognize.

“It’s a protection spell,” she managed to choke out as she thrust the parchment toward me. “My mom says it’ll keep them away. She’s an exorcist, you know.”

I remembered now – Jenna’s mother had a reputation for helping possessed people rid themselves of malevolent spirits. She had always seemed like a charlatan to me, someone who preyed on the superstitions and gullibility of others for her own gain. But with the knowledge of what else might be lurking in the darkness outside, I wasn’t so sure.

I took the parchment with my left hand and thanked her as Jenna slumped into a chair in the kitchen, the weight of her fear pressing down on her. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was why she had been so kind to me when I had fallen – if she had known what was coming, and if she had been trying to protect me somehow.

By sunrise, it began to feel foolish – feeling safe under some silly spell scribbled onto old paper. But as Jenna slept on the couch and the sky outside turned from black to purple to a pale blue that seemed both menacing and comforting at the same time, I felt my anxiety begin to lift.

The shadows of the early morning sun danced across the kitchen floor as I poured coffee and buttered toast, Jenna still curled on the couch like a child, lost in dreams. As I looked over at her peaceful face, I realized that the knowledge of what might be lurking out there in the darkness was no more terrifying than it had been before.

I had always known that the world was full of monsters – bullies and thugs, maniacs and murderers – but I had never been paralyzed with fear before. Now, with a broken arm and a heart full of love for a girl who had seen through my clumsy attempts at skateboarding and still cared about me enough to try to keep me safe, I found that I wasn’t afraid anymore.

No matter what creatures might be waiting for us in the shadows, we would face them together. Our strength – our humanity – would be enough to overcome them. If not, we had Jenna’s mother and her exorcist skills, just a phone call away.

I looked over at Jenna once more and smiled, raising my coffee mug in a silent toast to our future. Whatever it might hold, I was ready to face it. Broken arm and all.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

I never liked the shadows. My mother would always tell me I was imagining things, that there was nothing hiding under my bed or within the depths of my closet, but I knew better. I could feel it. It isn’t any different as an adult, except now the shadows aren’t contained by the walls of a bedroom. They’re everywhere.

I had only come to Neuromancer City a few weeks ago, where the darkness seemed to draw even closer. My heart still races when I walk the streets at night. The mix of neon lights playing tricks on my eyes makes my skin crawl. It isn’t just the shadows here emptying people of their hard-earned credits; it’s the robbers who hide amongst them too.

But there was a reason I bucked up in spite of all this: they needed my help. As a coder, I’d been asked to fix some corrupted files within the city’s mainframe, which housed a supercomputer more advanced than I had ever seen before.

I didn’t understand why I was always so afraid. It’s not like there was much for anyone to steal. Nothing worth anything, anyway. I’d long since liquidated my assets in favor of virtual currency, stored away in a virtual vault only I knew how to access. As for my physical possessions, I carried little more than the clothes on my back and a few trinkets in my pocket.

The walk to the mainframe building was nerve-wracking. Out of every shadow lurked a potential threat, and each passing stranger could be a thief lying in wait. When I finally arrived at the base of the monolithic structure that housed one of Neuromancer City’s most invaluable resources, I felt a small measure of relief, hoping that its security would be enough to keep me safe.

The lobby was guarded by robotic attendants with cold metallic faces scanning everyone and everything that entered. As they examined me, I pulled out my identity card and held it up for them.

“Stefan Wells,” one of them droned as it perused the details on the screen. “Cleared for entry. Proceed to the mainframe access.”

I obeyed and began my ascension, still unable to shake the fear that had come to grip my heart. The elevator, an enclosure of glass and steel, rocketed upwards to dizzying heights before depositing me at the top floor with a soft ding.

The room that greeted me was a marvel – the supercomputer hummed with steady efficiency, a beautiful symphony of blinking lights and flickering symbols that brought a genuine smile to my face. It extended from the floor to the ceiling, filling every last inch of space it could with machinery designed to process information faster than the human mind could comprehend. It was more than a supercomputer: it was an AI-driven infrastructure that controlled everything from the city’s utilities to its law enforcement.

My job was simple: locate and eliminate the corrupted files threatening to compromise the system. Of course, ‘simple’ was a relative term – there were terabytes of data to sift through, and I didn’t have much time to waste.

My fingers danced across the holographic display interface, injecting my carefully crafted code into the supercomputer’s heart. The moment it took hold, a wave of relief washed over me as I leaned back in my chair and let my creation do the hard work.

Hours passed in what felt like mere minutes, my eyes glued to the swirling patterns of data, shifting and changing like an intricate puzzle being solved piece by piece until finally, I found the corruption. The malicious code had wormed its way through vital protocols and processes, a subtle bowstring waiting to be pulled taut and send everything spiraling into chaos.

With newfound determination, I plunged into the depths of the supercomputer’s programming, following the tendrils of corruption back to their source. It was a slow and painstaking process, but I knew that if I slipped up even slightly, it would only make things worse.

As I worked, the fear that had been haunting me seemed to ebb, replaced with the singular focus of my task. I was no longer afraid of the shadows hiding thieves and robbers – I was afraid of my own abilities not being enough to stop them.

In the end, the corrupted files were removed and the supercomputer hummed back to life, its programming now as vibrant and efficient as ever. The job had taken me all night, but as I looked out from the top floor at the cityscape below, the sun was just beginning its slow climb over the horizon, casting away the shadows that had plagued me for so long.

My fear never entirely faded – there would always be shadows for thieves to hide in, and the perpetual buzz of Neuromancer City gave them plenty of places to lie in wait. But somehow, my experience with the supercomputer showed me that I could face my fears and triumph over them.

As I descended in the elevator and made my way back to my tiny apartment, I found myself walking with my head held higher. The city’s shadows still loomed over me, but for once, they didn’t make my heart race with fear. Instead, they reminded me of the challenges yet to come, and I couldn’t wait to see what lay hidden within their depths.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.

Without any external input to guide its actions or decisions, a robot would behave like a machine, performing tasks without adaptation or autonomy. Serving as the critical link between the robot and its environment, sensors enable the robot to perceive and interpret.