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Branches on the Tree of Time

Kyle Reese has traveled backwards in time, not to save Sarah Connor, but to help her rewrite the faulty utility function of Skynet. Together, it's possible that they might avert Judgment Day and save the world from nuclear Armageddon - and hopefully create a utopia ruled over by an AI god in the process. Fully completed. Diverges wildly from canon.

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Something doesn’t feel right. I can see it now, creeping into my room. It always does. I told myself it was a dream, that it was not real. I wish I was right.

I look to the corner of the doorway, which is blanketed in shadows of my nightlight. It is creeping over slowly, glancing at me with its strange eyes- and then, darkness.

I wake up in cold sweat and glance around wi

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Boxed In

Man had created god, and put her in a box.

Colin was led down grey concrete hallways by men in blue flight suits, past the exposed pipes and wiring until they reached a small room that held nothing more than a computer monitor, a keyboard, speakers, and a microphone. The monitor stayed off until the men in flight suits had left. There was a hissing sound as the blast door sealed behind them, and then the monitor flickered to life.

“Hello,” said a robotic voice from the speaker, at the same time Hello. was printed in green lettering against a black background on the monitor. The text was a throwback to an earlier time, what must have been an intentional design decision on the part of the people who had set the box up.

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The Randi Prize

Peter could make coins disappear by snapping his fingers.

It seemed to follow some rules. One snap of the fingers made one coin vanish. The first test he'd done, after discovering this ability, was to set coins out in front of him and repeatedly snap his fingers to watch what order they were vanished in. Higher denomination coins went first. Coins that were

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Luminosity

Luminosity is an AU reworking of the Twilight story where Bella is a rational self-knowledge junkie. Inspired by "Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality". Requires no knowledge of or affection for Twilight canon.

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Following the Phoenix

A single-/dual-point-of-departure spinoff from Less Wrong's brilliant story "Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality", branching away in Chapter 81. Hermione is sent to Azkaban, but Harry is not about to give up. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like his enemy is about to leave things alone either.

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Untitled

Jamie woke up late, discovering his house has been robbed. Tabbatha screamed, as every morning, wanting cat food.

"Shit".

Jamie picked up the phone, dialing 911, turned around look at hostile Tabbatha, murmured to himself, 'why didn't they take you also... '.

Couple hours later, sirens came to the quiet street of Brooklyn, parked right in front of the b

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THE WOODEN BOX

She looked franctically at the hospital room,hands cold as ice,tears dried up on her face,facing downward to look at her blood stained shredded clothes. which admonish her of the plight at hand.she thought about the accident, the faded memory she tried to allude. why had she started the fight with her parents,especially her mom.oh if she hadn't pick a figh

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Agency

Chapter One

Agents Pena and Abel looked upon the dying bubonic victim with indifference. She was covered head to toe with swollen lymph nodes, disguising white balls of puss. Her skin was deathly pale, and she was sweating profusely. Pena squatted down to the curled-up ball of misery. His dopamine levels artificially drop so he can feign empathy to her. "I'm so sor

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The Skeleton Key to Eternal Reverie

                                        by Daniel Pecheur

“The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”-Carl Jung

On the night of the wild storm, Joseph busied his thoughts in the strange discoveries he had made in the ancient book collection of the house. The dusted and wearied shelves comprised a hermetic treasure trove of secrets, which slowly and subtly worked its bewitching power over the young man, feeding his imagination a feast of most unusual fodder. The evening transformed into inclement night while he rummaged through the ruins of volumes from the earliest prints of Arabian Nights and the writings of Paracelsus to Agrippa and The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He spent nearly an hour poring through a withered tome filled with fantastical art of the occult. Demonic, hell-stained images of medieval grotesques haunted the sallow pages and weird pastel scenes distorted by all sorts of bogeys and chimeras cast a mysterious spell upon the mood of Joseph, with overtones of some other realm. A shapeless life force inhabited these crumbling pages, vibrating staccato in the background behind the roaring pell-mell of thunder and cloudburst.

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