The Making of a Legend All my life I've been waiting for him. As I stare out of the window of our palm-made hut, I feel as though I'm all alone. And yet I held on to hope; I held on to the chance of a better tomorrow. For ever since I was born I've heard of stories about him-- he, the chosen one of myths and legends who'll free my people from slavery and poverty. He, the mighty warrior who has the heart of gold and the strength of a lion. He, the legendary soldier of unimaginable kindness who was supposed to be born in my era.
Over and over, seers and prophets tell of stories on how he will be identified. That he will have an infinity mark, a callused brand on his right palm. And it is with this knowledge that I consoled myself during the times when my own cruel father etched the same symbol on my own palm. A figure eight that was supposed to a symbol of good; but on my own a mark of cruelty. My father never for
The Glass Tube 3.0 The next week Matt came home straight from his night classes. His parents had been adamant on him going to college but Matt put his foot down on the notion. So instead, they found a common ground wherein his parents agreed that he could attend computer technical courses instead of the normal four-year course. Matt agreed to it since he loved the subject anyway but after attending a couple of classes, he was instantly bored because the things the teachers had been teaching felt like child's play to him.
It was already 10 o'clock when he walked up the Michaliks' front door. He stared puzzlingly at the dark home because both Mr. and Mrs. Michalik's cars were already in the driveway. They should be home. And they usually stay up until midnight swamped with work.
Matt inserted his key into the door knob. There was something weird about the whole thing but he just brushe
The Glass Tube 2.0 "Don't touch my stuff," a young voice screeched. "My brother is older and taller than you and he will beat the crap out of you!"
Seventeen-year-old Matt looked up abruptly. He would know that voice anywhere.
Matt dropped the cigarette he was smoking and peered towards the direction of the voice. From his side of the building, he could see three high-school freshmen cornering Rina and getting ahold of her lunchbox.
"Where's your money kid?" one boy asked, holding out his hand. His friend beside him was already prying Rina's lunchbox open. "C'mon, fork it over."
"Go to hell! I'm warning you..." Rina yelled, her fists clenched tightly by her side.
"Oh, we're so scared," the third boy mocked. "As far as we could see your brother's not here right now."
The Glass Tube 1.0 I looked at the man inside the glass tube. He was in suspended animation and was half-dead with only machines keeping his heartbeat going and his lungs pumping. When they get into this stage that was usually the case. We were in the final desperate attempt to get the man's memories for research purposes.
My name is X and I'm part of an intelligence agency which studies criminals. What we do was investigate murderers, terrorists and other dangerous people with the hope that if we find out how they act then we could prevent other similar crimes from happening.
Throughout the years we believe we had made significant progress. We had produced computer programs that enable our men to calculate the possibilities of where a certain criminal will strike next. We had sent out artificial intelligence algorithms to airports to ensure they remain crime-free and that their personnel could spot suspici