WP from Reddit: Instead of colonizing the New World in 1492, Europeans gave Native Americans modern knowledge and sailed away. They return 200 years later.

The men of the boat were eager for a chance to finally set foot on land. They'd lost several ships to the deep blue after encountering high seas. "Do ya think their women'll be purdy?" "If it walks I'll make it my wife!" 

Captain Leonardo Fetticini stood before his men. "It's been two hundred years since we last set foot here. We equipped them the best we could. In hindsight this may not have been such a good idea. The King, in his omnipotence, decreed that we must find a place to settle here by peace... or by war. Let's hope our "friends" are willing to give us a fair bargain. Regardless keep your weapons close to hand.

At the first sight of the shore the sailors were in awe of the strange metal statues lining the beaches. "What are they?" "They're beautiful! We should take one home!" 

The rowboats were filled with weapons, smelly men and a thick sense of fear. They arrived to the shore safely and rushed to take a closer look at the shiny statues. "This one's gold!" "Silver here!" "Grab the ropes were taking them!" 

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In the thick forest beyond the beach camouflage faces watched the every move of the aliens attempting to steal the precious statues. The leader of the group, a giant man by the name of Nahuel, whispered to his comrades, "Our ancestors were right. These foolish creatures love shiny things. They warned us they would be back to take it. These fools gave us their technology, shared with us their faults and in two hundred years they have yet to change. Tonight... Tonight we cut out the cancer of this world. Tonight we let the ocean fish feast on their flesh." Pearly white teeth flashed all around the thick foliage.

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That night the superior men of Europe feasted on the animals of their newest home. Camp fires were lit all along the beach, the smell of smoke and burning flesh wafted into the forest. "Yup, we'll be rich men! How long are we here for again?" "Just a few weeks. Enjoy the local fauna while it lasts. Soon we will be eating of gold plates!" 

Captain Fetticini stayed with the flag ship moored far offshore. "This has been too easy. Our predecessors spoke of people inhabiting these lands... and to leave something so precious so close to the ocean..." His first mate sat on the other end of the cabin half drunk and teetering on his stool. "Well maybe they all (hick) died? Maybe our wisdom was too much for em and (hick) their heads exploded?" The captain looked at him in disgust,  "Doubtful you fishcock of a fool. Don't underestimate mankind... It's the moment you think you are better than the tamed lion that it eats you."

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!! BOOOM! BOOOM!

The first mate fell of the chair and immediately back to sobriety. "What was that?!" The captain rushed to the decked to see a series of explosions on the beach. "What's happening? Where is that coming from?!"

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The sand beneath the sailors feet began to burst. Some explosions were small others enormous. Men were swallowed whole by the flames igniting around them. Smoke and burning flesh filled the air and wafted into the forest.

Men by the hundreds emerged from the woods. Arrows of iron came raining down onto the sailors below sparing none of their alien souls. The masts of the ships placed close to the shore ignited. Dozens of dark figures could be seen climbing the sides of the ships. The ships' sailors steel met with sharper blades and fiercer warriors. The wakes of the ships pooled with blood.

On the flagship the captain could do nothing but watch his sailors be pierced with steel, burned alive and thrown into the sea. "First mate Bacon! We need to raise the anchor now! It's time to go!... First mate Bacon you drunk buffoon do you hear me?!" The captain returned back to his cabin to find his first mates neck slit from ear to ear. A giant of a man sat in the captains chair with his feet on the desk. "You savage! That desk was given to me by the king himself! I'll have your skin for this!" In a blind fury the captain rushed toward the giant unsheathing his sword in the process and just as he was about the strike the giant spoke. "Stop." "What? Did you just say stop? Why in the world would I stop?" The giant smiled as a rope descended from the rafters and around Captain Fetticini's neck. 

In two hours time the night was as dark as it has even been. The smell of flesh and smoke filled the air. The stars and moon were still shining as the fish feasted. Hundreds of dark figures retreated back into the forest to fight another day. "Go home to your women tonight. Enjoy their embrace. Tonight we fought as men but there will be more... There will always be more..."

Timmy Two Bits

 What is it that keeps us yearning in a world unattached to our whims? What's the essence of the fuel driving us mindlessly into oblivion? All the years spent pointlessly searching this wretched blue globe for meaning. We're hoping to create meaning from star dust. The left over parts of gaseous material burning for billions of years, then collapsing on itself, ultimately shooting its ejaculate into the void and impregnating it. And then some how gestating the bastard human race along the way. Why...

"Can I help you with anything sugar?" Francis was walking on sunshine as usual. "One more of these," Timmy mumbled. 

     She always does that. Always when I'm on the brink of solving it all. She takes a hammer and smashes it all to pieces. At least she is a giver and polite. Nothing much to look at but polite. Thin as a pole with legs like a spiders. Where were we... Ah fuck it.

Jimmy sipped he cheap black coffee until a small brown lake was all that remained at the bottom. Now, as always, he discretely poured it onto the floor.

     For the Gods

 The scent of coffee and pancakes clung to Timmy at all times. People around him found themselves relaxed with the comfort only a breakfast and the promise of a full stomach can bring. After all, these were hard times for many folks. If you had a full stomach before noon the rest of the day couldn't really be that bad.

     Before I'm snuffed out. Before deaths big black hand pulls me into my grave I need a standing ovation. I need the bright lights, their warmth and applause cascading over my face. I need the smiling faces and handshakes. No it needs to be deeper. I need love to enter my skull like a bullet to the brain making it burst from the inside out. 

Timmy Two bits was two blocks from where he started but no closer to his destination. Wherever he wandered he appeared lost. It wasn't the way he looked; it was his pace. A mix of wall street banker and a spider missing a leg or two from a chance encounter with a cruel child. His once pine green eyes turned nearly black, never expressed much of anything. The long nights, dirty deeds and tens of thousands of cigarettes had stained his teeth beyond repair. The only thing remarkable about him was his ability with numbers. He was a mathematical Olympian. This is what kept him alive and made him valuable.

     356 more steps. I can't wait for flying cars. I'm tired of this walking business. How far have I walked? Have I walked enough to make it to the Orient? Do China girls really look like dolls? I could use a new doll in my life. One with long black hair, slender hands and small feet.

Timmy wasn't what you'd call a ladies man. His small oval face, short stature and fast walking pace just gave off the wrong aura. He also preferred thin women at a time when thin was not in. After a few rounds of the newly illicit liquid his catchphrase would always come out, "The thinner is the winner!"

"Again..." Timmy mumbled under his breath. 

     They always just fucking leave their boots for everyone to smell and trip over. Give me some order! Give me some organisation, some control! This is shoe anarchy! They aren't even lined up straight! Even the shoes are against me. 39 pairs today. Mrs. Baker must be back at Gunther's place. They knock boots like rabbits in the springtime. Well maybe it's the horizontal mambo since their shoes are outside.

Shoes always lined the hallways of his apartment building. Their dirty soles and stinky innards were best left outside of the jail cell sized rooms some folks called apartments. His door was exactly 736 steps from the entrance of the diner. Timmy made sure to count them every time. 

     One day soon they'll all love me. I'll move out of this hell hole and into a villa on the Pacific. I'll invest and make millions. Al Capone will come to me for investment strategies. I'll drive fast cars. No, I'll be driven in fast cars by chauffeurs whose names will all be `speedy.` I'll be a made man. Just another few days.

The door creaked open. Timmy took a quick look around to make sure no surprises were waiting for him. He slipped a key back into his pocket. His key matched every key in the entire building. The owner thought it was good business tact to be able to sneak into their rooms and take things that wouldn't be missed. Quick creaking noises made their way across the room to the curtains. With a suuden swish they were closed leaving the apartment dark. He reached under his bed and pulled out a book with a false cover by the name of Cloud Nine. Inside was a few thousand dollars he had discretely tucked away. Below his feet dozens of books held up his bed. They were a safer stash than a bank and who the hell would steal old books? Timmy took a few moments each day to consider how clever he was. 

     Maybe I'll start my new life tomorrow. Just get a new car and drive. I can learn Spanish along the way. I can find my chauffeur  'Speedy Gonzales' on the streets of old Mexico and a new senorita in the sands along the ocean. Dos Cervezas por favor.

Timmy did his patented dos cervezas shuffle on top of his bed when he heard a jiggle coming from his door handle.

"Mob Racketeer Found Dead in Slums"

The paper read like a cheap suspense novel. Timmy Two Bits was a police accountant turned gangster. His death was no surprise to locals or cops. He had posted a ledger of black funds from the mob and the police to the Chicago Chronicle. It was never published.
Most people thought it was the mob who snuffed him, a few considered the police, no one considered his inept landlord who had found him while sneaking into his room.

"Poor Timmy," Patrick the landlord slowly hobbled to the diner to tell Francis, practicing what he'd say along the way. He arrived at 7 AM. The usual time for Timmy to get his coffee. He looked around in the empty diner but didn't see Francis. "Hey Bob!," he shouted in the direction of the kitchen, "Four eyed Frannie around?" A portly man with a thick Irish accent (though he'd never once been outside of the city) poked his head out into the diner. "No sir. She flat out quit yesterday! Rode off in a new Packard! She was cryin' and saying something bout her daddy dying and left her some money. Good for her."

A red Packard sped through the deserts of Nevada. The driver didn't know what the future held. She only knew the present was unexplored territory; the world waited only for her now. In the backseat pages of books never to be read fluttered.

The Games We Played Played Us

A crackling fire. Once foreign constellations shining above. Faces of varying ages all peering at the wrinkled man standing in the fires light. One of the younger, still bright eyed ones, works up the courage to finally ask. "Tell us the scary story again Granｐa! Please, please pleaaase!"

"What is worse, Men or machines?

Early on it was the machines we demonized through our movies and stories. We shared a common assumption that one day the machines we made would undo all that we built. I talk to you as an old man now and that wasn't the case at all."

Simulate people. Play God. Have fun!

"It started out as an innocent game.  It gave us all a break from the reality we inhabited. I was 13, by the aging system of the day, the first time I played. Even at that tender age my heart knew I was wasting precious time. Time that could be better spent chasing girls, learning to play ball or pursuing knowledge of any kind. After a month I gave the game away and began to live life as I hadn't before. Come to think of it that was the month my lips tasted another's for the first time. Those shuddering, glossy lips altered the course of my life; maybe that's why I'm different. Maybe that's why we're here."

The wrinkles on his brow deepened and silence reigned.

"The first generation was played on early computers." The little one mimicked this foreign word, "Kompootah." "The second generation was released around my twentieth birthday. The days of the computer had given way to super cellular phones, holographic tablets, and virtual reality sets. All over that blue globe..." His aged hand pointed to indistinct point in the stars "Helmets were being worn to escape into wild dreams, designed by the brightest minds of our time."

Join Us. Live the Life. Live the Dream!

"It had evolved from a single player game to a worldwide massive multi-player dream world. Concerts were held with tens of millions in attendance, professional sports were viewed from the players’ point of view, and virtual vacations to sandy shores or ancient cities became all the rage. We wanted more... we wanted more of the pie. Seeing and hearing weren't enough, we wanted to live it... we wanted more..."

His voice trailed off but his eyes grew wider. Behind their yellowish exterior life on a distant place flowed out of them. They conjured themselves into a ball and rolled down his cheek, the wrinkles acting like ditches watering parched crops.

"Grand Pa..." The little one began speaking once again, "Why do you talk so funny?" Her mother puts a hand over her mouth. He cleared his throat to start again.

"The system developers became rock stars in the eyes of the globalized populace. Whatever they dreamed up became the must have experience for young and old alike. The porn industry..." "What's porn?" Another little one asked. The old man continued, his mind still diving ever-deeper into the ocean of his experience. "Hastened the development of all the technologies, pushing them almost into the world of reality. Governments, always slow to adapt, joined the party later. Warfare became completely digitized. Clunky robots fought fleshy foes in third world countries, while their controllers sat in plush chairs a world away.

“The world was no longer a silicon empire but an invisible quantum network enveloped the globe. People outside their own homes became a rare sight. The atrocities committed by those in power were broadcast by elite hackers. The world didn't care. They were too caught up in their own narcissistic elixir to care.

By the time my thirtieth birthday came around the world had changed forever. There was no going back to the old ways. The developers had found a way to entangle the synapses of man to the processors of machines. Immortality, they said, was just around the bend."

We can all live forever, we can all learn everything. Welcome to the future!

"It wasn't all smooth sailing. The first test subjects all lost their minds during or shortly after the transfer. The machines just couldn't handle the massive load of the human brain. One scientists', previously heralded as the Einstein of the developers, moon walked across the entire state of Nevada after his machine lost his mind." "Grandpa... what's a Einstein?"

"Almost everyone at this point had a job within the developers’ world. Money would be transferred digitally, cash was absolved completely. People would occasionally log out to walk their dog, if they had a real one, or attend a funeral. People like me, the reality trekkers, were outcasts. The developers found jobs for us though as well. We would fix machines, cables, and coded while the rest of the world grew lazy, bulbous, and immobile.”

“The ultra rich lived with a foot in both worlds. Day-by-day they too would become more machine than man. But underneath the steely metal their human impulses still raged on.”

“On my fortieth birthday I lost my freedom. They had already figured out how to extend life indefinitely. They also extended their subjects perception of time as well. Years inside the game were mere hours outside. Those of us left outside the game were considered threats to the established order.”

“The developers became modern pharaohs, living, metal clad immortals among mere digitized mortals. They had become all powerful; they knew everything there was to know. They had access to anything, anytime, anywhere. The world they had created became all too convincing simulacrum. People no longer wished to live without it. True reality was but a nightmare.”

“There was no cake for me on that day. No candles or ice cream. They tracked me down and loaded me into a skytrain.  Silky gas filled our lungs and the deep sleep began.”

“Later, after the awakening, we realized for decades we had been sleeping. Their technology had perfected the art of sleep. Our fleshy bodies were frozen and stored with the hundreds of other reality trekkers and sent here. Prison colony GJ1214b. This is where my life began anew. Trapped in a domed prison of the stars for the rest of time."

Silence filled the camp. The blue lights on the back of their heads began to glow as the fire dwindleｄ onward into the nothingness. It was time to sleep. The developer guards would be by soon.