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Zerflah
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Stained Glass
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- Zerflah 2 yrs ago
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“Welcome to SuperLife, where your life becomes super! How may I help you today?”
Catherine smiled as she repeated the slogan with the same enthusiasm priests gave during a eulogy. The customer, a fat, middle-aged woman with thin blond hair, wearing a blouse two sizes too small gave her barely a cursory glance before she resumed screaming into her earpiece, her phone clutched in one hand and a mini-microwave—yes, an entire microwave—tucked under her other arm.
“I told you, Harold,” the woman said, loud enough for the other three customers to hear her. “Three isn’t enough. I need four. Four!”
Four of what? Cat wondered. No, never mind, I really don’t want to know.
Her eyes glazed over as the woman continued to scream at this mysterious Harold. Was he her brother, perhaps? Maybe her husband? What kind of man would let himself be tied down by a woman like this? Though considering her magnitude and bearing, the poor fool likely didn’t have much choice in the matter.
Catherine’s thoughts drifted further as she held back a yawn. The Heritage had been packed to bursting last night. She remembered peeking out of the curtains on stage at the crowd, her stomach full of excitement and anticipation. And hope. Hope that she would gain a bit more of a following, a bit more notoriety, a bit more attention from the common people. As always, the applause was polite at first, and she didn’t actually start drawing attention until she walked up a wall she lined with metal before her performance started.
Spinning, twisting, twirling in the air, her dress skirt held down by tiny magnets inside the fabric, her voice echoing out from the stage to pull the crowd in. Watch me, see me, join me. Bask in the revel and be free.
No one had joined her, of course. Oh, a few drunks danced, but that was typical for that time of night. She wouldn’t know if she did well until after her morning shift was over, when she could finally take a break and look at her Pasithee. She usually gained an influx of followers after a performance like last night, but sometimes…well, it wasn’t a guaranteed thing.
The woman was still screaming at her husband. Or brother. Male relative. There were five other people waiting in line behind her now, Julie was still on her smoke break, and the manager had about as much sense as a cockerel strutting blindly through a lion’s den. So she was stuck here, trapped in her little bulletproof cage, waiting for customers to bring their defective products up to her and complain about them not working.
The woman finally put the microwave on the counter and put her back to Cat, so she deftly snatched the power cord and connected it to the socket under the counter. The appliance didn’t power up as expected, but instead just sat there, as dead as if she’d plugged it into a chunk of wood. She pulled the side panel open and peeked inside, but couldn’t see anything wrong from there. She’d have to take the whole thing apart to find out what the problem was. Maybe a blown fuse?
“When did this stop working, ma’am?” Cat asked, glancing up at the woman. The fat old bitch ignored her. Irritated, and before she could stop herself, Cat reached out—not with her hand, but with the essence that constantly surrounded her—and enveloped the woman’s earpiece. Then she changed...something, and a high-pitched whine began to drone from the woman's earpiece, causing the woman to flinch and yank the device from her ear.
It was one of those expensive pieces, Cat was satisfied to see. High quality, long battery life. Ruined now, because of a simple magnetic charge. The woman scowled and finally turned to look at Cat, who was busy printing a form for credit on the device.
“Here you are, ma’am,” Cat said, as sweetly as she could. “You can use this store credit to purchase any microwave we stock of equal value as this.”
“Store credit?” the woman asked, flabbergasted—a state Cat suspected she was perpetually trapped in. “I don’t want store credit; I want my money back.”
“All sales made at SuperLife are final, and we offer only credit in return for defective goods.”
“That’s not what I was told last time I came here. Where is your manager?”
“He is on a conference call at the moment, but I can—”
“Winters!”
Catherine flinched. Then she sighed and turned to see her manager, Thomas, storming towards her with a thunderous expression. The conference call was over, apparently, and it hadn’t gone well for Mr. Perfect judging by his mood. He was shorter than her, though she wasn’t that tall herself, pudgy and balding, though he looked to be in his early thirties.
“Are you giving out store credits without approval again?” he demanded, then added to the woman, “I’m sorry ma’am, I’ll be right with you.”
“I’m following company policy, sir,” Cat said. “Defective products brought in and returned are exchanged for store credit. That’s what I was taught during training.”
Thomas shook his head. “Well, you’re wrong. Return the customer’s credit—in full—and fill out the RMA for returning this unit. I won’t have you stealing from me again.”
That wasn’t me, Cat thought, but didn’t say. That was my friend Angelli. Totally different. And you’ve been stealing shit and giving it to Julie, who’s been sucking your dick every day for five months straight.
Regardless, she did as she was told. She was an upstanding, model citizen, after all. Never mind that she sent Angelli a text about a certain broken microwave lying out back. Angie, or one of her friends, would grab the thing later tonight and carry it back to their apartment. It was a perfectly good microwave, after all. At least it would be once Cat fixed whatever problem it had.
“Welcome to SuperLife,” she said to the next customer in line. “Where your life becomes super. What did we screw up this time?”
Catherine smiled as she repeated the slogan with the same enthusiasm priests gave during a eulogy. The customer, a fat, middle-aged woman with thin blond hair, wearing a blouse two sizes too small gave her barely a cursory glance before she resumed screaming into her earpiece, her phone clutched in one hand and a mini-microwave—yes, an entire microwave—tucked under her other arm.
“I told you, Harold,” the woman said, loud enough for the other three customers to hear her. “Three isn’t enough. I need four. Four!”
Four of what? Cat wondered. No, never mind, I really don’t want to know.
Her eyes glazed over as the woman continued to scream at this mysterious Harold. Was he her brother, perhaps? Maybe her husband? What kind of man would let himself be tied down by a woman like this? Though considering her magnitude and bearing, the poor fool likely didn’t have much choice in the matter.
Catherine’s thoughts drifted further as she held back a yawn. The Heritage had been packed to bursting last night. She remembered peeking out of the curtains on stage at the crowd, her stomach full of excitement and anticipation. And hope. Hope that she would gain a bit more of a following, a bit more notoriety, a bit more attention from the common people. As always, the applause was polite at first, and she didn’t actually start drawing attention until she walked up a wall she lined with metal before her performance started.
Spinning, twisting, twirling in the air, her dress skirt held down by tiny magnets inside the fabric, her voice echoing out from the stage to pull the crowd in. Watch me, see me, join me. Bask in the revel and be free.
No one had joined her, of course. Oh, a few drunks danced, but that was typical for that time of night. She wouldn’t know if she did well until after her morning shift was over, when she could finally take a break and look at her Pasithee. She usually gained an influx of followers after a performance like last night, but sometimes…well, it wasn’t a guaranteed thing.
The woman was still screaming at her husband. Or brother. Male relative. There were five other people waiting in line behind her now, Julie was still on her smoke break, and the manager had about as much sense as a cockerel strutting blindly through a lion’s den. So she was stuck here, trapped in her little bulletproof cage, waiting for customers to bring their defective products up to her and complain about them not working.
The woman finally put the microwave on the counter and put her back to Cat, so she deftly snatched the power cord and connected it to the socket under the counter. The appliance didn’t power up as expected, but instead just sat there, as dead as if she’d plugged it into a chunk of wood. She pulled the side panel open and peeked inside, but couldn’t see anything wrong from there. She’d have to take the whole thing apart to find out what the problem was. Maybe a blown fuse?
“When did this stop working, ma’am?” Cat asked, glancing up at the woman. The fat old bitch ignored her. Irritated, and before she could stop herself, Cat reached out—not with her hand, but with the essence that constantly surrounded her—and enveloped the woman’s earpiece. Then she changed...something, and a high-pitched whine began to drone from the woman's earpiece, causing the woman to flinch and yank the device from her ear.
It was one of those expensive pieces, Cat was satisfied to see. High quality, long battery life. Ruined now, because of a simple magnetic charge. The woman scowled and finally turned to look at Cat, who was busy printing a form for credit on the device.
“Here you are, ma’am,” Cat said, as sweetly as she could. “You can use this store credit to purchase any microwave we stock of equal value as this.”
“Store credit?” the woman asked, flabbergasted—a state Cat suspected she was perpetually trapped in. “I don’t want store credit; I want my money back.”
“All sales made at SuperLife are final, and we offer only credit in return for defective goods.”
“That’s not what I was told last time I came here. Where is your manager?”
“He is on a conference call at the moment, but I can—”
“Winters!”
Catherine flinched. Then she sighed and turned to see her manager, Thomas, storming towards her with a thunderous expression. The conference call was over, apparently, and it hadn’t gone well for Mr. Perfect judging by his mood. He was shorter than her, though she wasn’t that tall herself, pudgy and balding, though he looked to be in his early thirties.
“Are you giving out store credits without approval again?” he demanded, then added to the woman, “I’m sorry ma’am, I’ll be right with you.”
“I’m following company policy, sir,” Cat said. “Defective products brought in and returned are exchanged for store credit. That’s what I was taught during training.”
Thomas shook his head. “Well, you’re wrong. Return the customer’s credit—in full—and fill out the RMA for returning this unit. I won’t have you stealing from me again.”
That wasn’t me, Cat thought, but didn’t say. That was my friend Angelli. Totally different. And you’ve been stealing shit and giving it to Julie, who’s been sucking your dick every day for five months straight.
Regardless, she did as she was told. She was an upstanding, model citizen, after all. Never mind that she sent Angelli a text about a certain broken microwave lying out back. Angie, or one of her friends, would grab the thing later tonight and carry it back to their apartment. It was a perfectly good microwave, after all. At least it would be once Cat fixed whatever problem it had.
“Welcome to SuperLife,” she said to the next customer in line. “Where your life becomes super. What did we screw up this time?”
I'm a writer, first and foremost, gamer second, DND nut third. I read several books every month, and when I don't have anything new to read, I go back to old books and read them again. I love finding secrets, things I've missed on the first or fourth read, and have a fine appreciation for good prose, like a Frenchman does his wine.
Some examples of books I read:
Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson (I read basically everything he writes. The man is an inspiration to any writer.)
The Poppy War - R.F. Kuang (Excellent prose, lifelike characters, smol angy girl hopped up on poppy, what's not to like?)
Memoirs by Lady Trent - Marie Brennan (Don't be put off by the 'Memoirs' bit, the literary trick Mrs. Brennan does is not just unique, it's enticing, provocative, and humorous.)
The Kingfountain Series - Jeff Wheeler (This shit tore my heart to pieces, and I'm not enough of a masochist to do a second readthrough. It's bloody brilliant, though.)
Shattered Sea Trilogy - Joe Abercrombie (Wouldn't recommend to anyone with a weak heart, it gets gritty in those books.)
That's about it for me. If you're wondering whether or not this post was created simply to entice more people to read these specific series, you might be onto something.
Some examples of books I read:
Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson (I read basically everything he writes. The man is an inspiration to any writer.)
The Poppy War - R.F. Kuang (Excellent prose, lifelike characters, smol angy girl hopped up on poppy, what's not to like?)
Memoirs by Lady Trent - Marie Brennan (Don't be put off by the 'Memoirs' bit, the literary trick Mrs. Brennan does is not just unique, it's enticing, provocative, and humorous.)
The Kingfountain Series - Jeff Wheeler (This shit tore my heart to pieces, and I'm not enough of a masochist to do a second readthrough. It's bloody brilliant, though.)
Shattered Sea Trilogy - Joe Abercrombie (Wouldn't recommend to anyone with a weak heart, it gets gritty in those books.)
That's about it for me. If you're wondering whether or not this post was created simply to entice more people to read these specific series, you might be onto something.
Miss Catherine Leona Winters
(Call me a number, call me a name, I’m still me at the end of the day.)A Magnet for Attention
(Electrifying.)"If I had all the money in the world, I’d throw it all down the throat of the nearest volcano and watch the Corpos squirm."
(It gives me shivers just considering it!)
(It gives me shivers just considering it!)
(Au Naturale)
TAYGETE CITIZENSHIP CARD
(It’s not about being a number. It’s about life. It’s about finding love in all the little things. Forget numbers, we’re battling apathy, depression, and every sickness of the mind both common and upperclass.)| ID SERIAL | BIRTH | RESIDENCE | PROFESSION |
|---|---|---|---|
| F7778774 | F, Age 25 (Apr 20) | Arche | SuperLife Retail Customer Service Representative |
(If people would just learn how to make a proper single-file line, my life would be so much easier.)
PERSONALITY
I left my family as soon as I could to travel the world and experience. I spent seven years of my life living from day to day, never sleeping in the same place every night, doing tricks on streets I’ve never been to, for people who don’t look like me, just so I could eat. And I’d do it for the rest of my life, if I could. I returned for the family I left behind, though not the same family I left when I decided to go travel. What does that tell you about me, Mr. Dossier?BACKGROUND
I grew up in the big city everyone dreams of. Not this one, but your typical cramped, overcrowded, overpriced townhouse half a block down the street from, well, everything. My parents divorced when I was eight, only a few months after my littlest brother Ezekiel died from some sickness. I took care of the family. For four years. When I was eight. Do I hate my mother? Not nearly as much as I did when she showed up with her new husband and twin daughters, claimed both me and my brother in court, and stole us away from my dad.
I left them as soon as I could, and I traveled the world. I spent seven years living off the street, accepting scraps and cash for the art I gave to the world. My performance was everything to me, and it seemed like all the different people I met were just as interested in me and where I came from as I was with them. I learned so much, made so many lifelong friends, and I still send and get letters from them to this day. But as I was traveling from one city to another, an impossibly old woman stood in my path and told me I was going to die, just like my little brother. My little brother, who was sixteen years dead, thousands of miles away. So I d.d wh.t .ny..e ...ld .o, … . …………..
ERROR. The rest of the document seems to be corrupted. Attempting retrieval…ERROR. Document is corrupted. Attempting repair...ERROR. Input manual code? (y/n)
Please input code: ********__
...
Override code accepted. Proceeding to next point in dossier.
X-FACTOR
I can make magnets. I can’t really explain how I do it, or how the strange power works, or why I was given such a...gift? Curse? It can be convenient at times, sure, but there’s only so much attention one girl can attract, you know? There’s a lot you can do with electromagnetism. Practically anything, really. I can create electricity. I can make magnetize metals, and even use my own body as if I were a magnet. There’s a constant field of electromagnetic energy constantly surrounding me, which is very weak and not really noticeable unless you’re the observant type. Unless I want it to be strong, I can’t really control it. Polarity can be weird. The best part, though? I can fly. Kind of.
So if your phone starts acting weird, like getting bad reception near me, I’m sorry, but I really can’t do anything about that. You should put that thing down when you’re talking to me anyway. I’d hate for something to happen to your car’s battery, making it short-circuit for no reason and end up killing you from the resulting explosion.
Does that make you uncomfortable, Mr. Dossier?
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