#errors401

[errors401-blog]

look what I just made

[errors401-blog]

Errors-401 is an author that has written 4 stories for Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Life, and Politics.

My fictionpress account please read my stuff and follow me if you have an account

[errors401-blog]

The Second fire Part 1

The second fire- part 1

The first part- internal problems

2040- Higher London:

The year is 2040 and the burnt-out husk of Grenfell tower has been replaced by the world's tallest building, the Spire. With over 4 kilometres of height to its name and over 20 years of top-secret development, the structures deepest secrets remain shrouded in mystery. However, not all is as it seems: the tower’s ventilation systems require a major overhaul and the compartmentalisation in the lifts is minimal- almost non-existent. Even the inhabitants of the tower are not the wealthy residents of higher London; only the middle class find the Spire or it’s unit prices attractive. Hence the tower is mostly empty. But the location of the spire has caused more than just controversy- much much more than controversy.

Enter the tragedy of the second fire.

It was only 3:00 in the morning yet Châu Trần had already woken up eaten a meagre breakfast and was now ready to face the world. Catching a hover rail into the citadel of higher London he walked up to the service entrance of the spire and swiped his clearance card into the slot and walked through the now open armoured door. The time had arrived- it was time to start his long maintenance round of the central superstructure. Navigating his way through the maze of internal walkways Châu began to painstakingly maintain the mechanical, physical and cyberspace that was the integrity of the spire. Section by section he mended, repaired and searched for minor faults. This was very hard work but it was better than begging in the filthy streets of Hounslow, definitely a lot better. 

This was all well and good until he heard the clattering behind him. Châu instinctively froze. The tapping of what sounded like many metal legs behind him got louder and louder. Getting closer. His mind racing, Châu reached for his holster containing his small handgun but stopped it could just be one of the autonomous service robots that patrolled the underground levels of the tower. But the metal footsteps continued to get nearer zoning in on him. A predator hunting his prey. A hunter beginning the chase. Then the footsteps stopped. Châu relaxed in relief,  it was just a service bot. Slowly he turned around. 

Only to see a spider-like a robot with deadly looking sharpened limbs with barbed points looming over him. He barely had time to scream when one of these legs darted forward, plunging into his heart and instantly ending his life. The metal spider removed its leg and clambered over his dead body and continued on its way into the deepest depths of the spires void. The beating heart of the superstructure. Towards the buried nuclear reactor.

The body of Châu was only discovered when a service bot found his corpse. All the management of the Spire did was announce his death, notify his family and pay four months of wage to his distraught kin. It wasn't even reported to the council. Workers were expendable- you could always get news one.

[errors401-blog]

The Life of Death Part 2 stardant

The life of Death

Part 2- the normal version

Death’s cat and plane flights

Osaka- Japan 2020

Somewhere in Osaka, there is a cat shop: this shop sells specially bred cats to anybody who can afford their astronomically high price. Its exclusive clientele includes many cat lovers and animal enthusiasts, just only the very rich ones. 

It was a balmy Saturday afternoon and only one customer had arrived to drop off their 50,000 yen deposit so the shop was quiet and veteran shop assistant Tomoki Shimada was arranging the display cards -of the variety of cats available for purchase- when the shop phone rang shrilly. Tomoki was so startled that he dropped the cards that needed to be arranged- they could be dealt with later. Once this was accomplished Tomoki walked to the phone and picked up the handset,  and after all of this- he answered the call.

“Yes. hello, this is Osaka cattery How can I help you. Ok, I can arrange an appointment for tomorrow. Sure, see you then, thank you. bye! ” *

Tomoki ended the call with a frustrated button press, what an inconvenient phone call, slammed the phone down and stalked off to pick up the cards he dropped. 

Next day at precisely 4:01 pm (16:01) the shop door slammed open and a customer advances into the inside of the shop. Tomoki watched the shop door open as a customer walked in; The door closed again after this with a crash. Getting a good look at the new customer he noted: a purple turtleneck jumper; walking trousers and black boots- not the classic animal lover then. He looked more like someone who is going for a long walk then somebody who is going to buy a seven and a half million yen cat (£55,524.54).

But business is business so shop assistant Tomoki Shimada checked if the new arrival had an appointment. So the following dialogue commenced:

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes I do”

“Your name please”

“My name is Death” *

One hour, 50,000 yen and a cup of coffee later, Death exited the shop with a slight spring in his step. Walking towards a train station at a brisk pace he thought back through his time in Osaka- well it had been mostly lonely time to be fair. That was his precise reason for buying a cat; to feel less alone. Upon arrival at the station, Death swiped his JR (Japanese Rail) pass at the automatic ticket barrier, strode down a flight of stairs and boarded a waiting train what a coincidence.

At the door of his apartment Death placed his keys in the locks on the left of the door and unlocked it. Sauntering through the now open door Death took off his coat before unlaced his boots.shutting the door behind him; he sat down in his favourite leather armchair then sighed. Tapping at his phone he set a reminder for seven days time. The day he got his first cat for at least the last 1500 years. Anyway, it was all very exciting and Death couldn’t wait for it.

At the normal rate, time passed and the allocated week until the acquisition of a new cat elapsed. At this point Death found himself greeted by a suitably more ecstatic Tomoki in the now familiar waiting room within Osaka cattery. Tomoki then hurried off to a side room to return with a small travel cage which was then placed on the shop counter. The moment of truth had finally arrived.

With a trembling hand, Death opened the cage to reveal…

A cat!

It was not just any cat; it was the cutest cat he had ever seen. Death was not biased at all.

Death later named his cat Spock as he had pointy ears and so did the Vulcan from star trek. Soon after Spock and Death were firm friends and while Death was at home Spock would curl up on Death’s lap and fall asleep. Whether this could be classed as friendship or not is a different story but Death definitely felt a lot less lonely.  When Death was at home Spock did whatever cats do most of the time.

As the weeks, months passed and almost blurred Death and Spock the cat grew closer and closer- well at least as close a cat and a human could get. It was almost six months after their fateful first encounter. And in Death’s opinion, it was one of the best six months of the last 45 years. Easily the best after the trauma of the first half of the Twentieth Century- but that was all behind him now.

The last time Death has with Spock was a quiet and peaceful Sunday evening. Spock was lying on a sleeping Death’s lap before suddenly waking up rousing him from a deep slumber. Promptly Spock exited through a window; this was all before a now awake Death rose from the recces of his armchair.

It had been over 2 weeks since Spock had left and never returned. It had been 2 weeks of almost frantic searching for the lost cat. The subsequent week was a very lonely one it was just Death in his apartment- just him and no cat. However, Death’s foul mood didn’t last, walking past the door there was a clunk and a letter fell through. A letter! Getting letters was a rare occurrence for Death. It was a letter from his immortal friend Time from Berlin in Germany. 

The decision was made. Death packed his bags, sold the flat and caught a plane to Berlin. On the flight, he wondered how much time had changed in the last fifty years or so- probably quite a lot.

Upon arrival, he was met by a bearded Time. As the two immortal men embraced. Death whispered, “it’s been too long”.  All Time replied was “yes it has”.

Death and Time had a lot of history.

*translated from Japenese

[errors401-blog]

The Life of Death Part 2 sci-fi

The life of Death

Part 2- the sci-fi-ish version

Death’s cat and plane flights

Osaka- Japan 2026

Somewhere in Osaka, there is a cat shop: this shop sells specially bred cats to anybody who can afford their astronomically high price. Its exclusive clientele includes many cat lovers and animal enthusiasts, just only the very rich ones. 

It was a balmy Saturday afternoon and only one customer had arrived to drop off their 50,000 yen deposit so the shop was quiet and veteran shop assistant Tomoki Shimada was arranging the display cards -of the variety of cats available for purchase- when the shop ‘phone’ rang. Well, it was his Samsung headset that he wore at all times. Tomoki was so startled that he dropped the cards that needed to be arranged- they could be dealt with later. Once this was accomplished Tomoki pressed a button on his headset,  and after all of this- he answered the call.

“Yes. hello, this is Osaka cattery How can I help you. Ok, I can arrange an appointment for tomorrow. Sure, see you then, thank you. bye! ” *

Tomoki ended the call with a frustrated button press, what an inconvenient phonecall, and stalked off to pick up the cards he dropped. 

Next day at precisely 4:01 pm (16:01) the shop door slammed open and a customer advances into the inside of the shop. Tomoki watched the shop door open as a customer walked in; The door closed again after this with a crash. Getting a good look at the new customer he noted: a purple turtleneck jumper; walking trousers and black boots- not the classic animal lover then. He looked more like someone who is going for a long walk then somebody who is going to buy a seven and a half million yen cat (£55,524.54).

But business is business so shop assistant Tomoki Shimada checked if the new arrival had an appointment. So the following dialogue commenced:

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes I do”

“Your name please”

“My name is Death” *

One hour, 50,000 yen and a cup of coffee later, Death exited the shop with a slight spring in his step. Walking towards a maglev station at a brisk pace he thought back through his time in Osaka- well it had been mostly lonely time to be fair. That was his precise reason for buying a cat; to feel less alone. Upon arrival at the station, Death swiped his JT (Japanese transport) pass at the automatic ticket barrier, strode down a flight of stairs and boarded a waiting maglev- what a coincidence.

At the door of his apartment Death placed his palm on the biometric scanner on the left of the doorframe. Sauntering through the now open door Death took off his coat before unlaced his boots. As the door slid shut and locked with a hiss; he sat down in his favourite leather armchair then sighed. Tapping at his wafer-thin phone he set a reminder for seven days time. The day he got his first cat for at least the last 1500 years. Anyway, it was all very exciting and Death couldn’t wait for it.

At the normal rate, time passed and the allocated week until the acquisition of a new cat elapsed. At this point Death found himself greeted by a suitably more ecstatic Tomoki in the now familiar waiting room within Osaka cattery. Tomoki then hurried off to a side room to return with a small travel cage which was then placed on the shop counter. The moment of truth had finally arrived.

With a trembling hand, Death opened the cage to reveal…

A cat!

It was not just any cat; it was the cutest cat he had ever seen. Death was not biased at all.

Death later named his cat Spock as he had pointy ears and so did the Vulcan from star trek. Soon after Spock and Death were firm friends and while Death was at home Spock would curl up on Death’s lap and fall asleep. Whether this could be classed as friendship or not is a different story but Death definitely felt a lot less lonely.  When Death was at home Spock did whatever cats do most of the time.

As the weeks, months passed and almost blurred Death and Spock the cat grew closer and closer- well at least as close a cat and a human could get. It was almost six months after their fateful first encounter. And in Death’s opinion, it was one of the best six months of the last 50 years. Easily the best after the trauma of the first half of the Twentieth Century- but that was all behind him now.

The last time Death has with Spock was a quiet and peaceful Sunday evening. Spock was lying on a sleeping Death’s lap before suddenly waking up rousing him from a deep slumber. Promptly Spock exited through a window; this was all before a now awake Death rose from the recces of his armchair.

It had been over 2 weeks since Spock had left and never returned. It had been 2 weeks of almost frantic searching for the lost cat. The subsequent week was a very lonely one it was just Death in his apartment- just him and no cat. However, Death’s foul mood didn’t last, walking past the door there was a clunk and a letter fell through. A letter! Almost nobody sent them anymore. It was a letter from his immortal friend Time from Berlin in Germany. 

The decision was made. Death packed his bags, sold the flat and caught a plane to Berlin. On the flight, he wondered how much time had changed in the last fifty years or so- probably quite a lot.

Upon arrival, he was met by a bearded Time. As the two immortal men embraced. Death whispered, “it’s been too long”.  All Time replied was “yes it has”.

Death and Time had a lot of history.

*translated from Japenese

[errors401-blog]

The Life of Death part 1

The life of Death

Part 1

It’s not easy being Death

Now:

Death lowered himself into his favourite leather armchair and sighed; it had been a hard, long day. While looking around his hyper-modern home he felt something was missing. Reaching out, he grasped a glass full of blood-red liquid and paused frowning.

A minute passed. Then another. Finally, he started to slowly sip the wine from a crystal glass. All the while watching the view from the expansive floor to ceiling windows- not looking at anything in general. His dark black eyes slowly scanned the room passing over the bespoke kitchen cabinets, lime green sofa and armchairs, oak coffee table, antique Japanese dining area (fully laid) and numerous pieces of art.

Death liked his apartment: it was warm, comfortable and looked good. He liked his flat, he liked Osaka. It seemed Osaka liked him.

But lunch was Death’s favourite part of Osaka.

Death was not a cook but it was ‘homemade’ Katsu curry for lunch (it was homemade in the sense that is warmed up at home!). Still after all Death liked his ‘homemade’ katsu curry but you can not wear a suit when eating curry.  But Death was hungry and while wearing his favourite navy suit with a pink tie he dug into the extremely saucy curry. Death devoured his curry while enjoying the taste simultaneously. Once he was done Death felt much better only until he noticed the curry stains down the front of his suit. 

Piece by piece death changed out of his curry stained suit into a light blue knitted sweater and into a pair of torn skinny jeans. It was nice not to wear a suit for a change but you have to look good for a date at a stand-up comedy night in the nearby Naniwanomiyaato Park (難波宮跡公園). 

At the door, Death slipped on a jacket, a red army replica greatcoat. Then he walked into the night

The comedy night was a laugh, literally. It was good quality comedy. For the most part, Death had fun. He wandered through the crowd for no particular reason, he just liked the general satirical nature of the night. Eating an Onigiri he had brought with him, he watched everybody else enjoy themselves from the safety of a bench where he waited for his date. Within five minutes Death got bored and went to the nearby coffee truck and bought a matcha latte. An hour passed than another.

Another cup of coffee and two hours later it was eleven pm- the crowd had dispersed, the comedy stuff was being packed up but Death was still waiting. His date had still not arrived. 

It’s very frustrating isn’t it when you arrange something with someone and yet they still don’t turn up. That’s exactly the position Death was in. Being gay Death found it easier to date somebody now, but if your date is four hours late without and explanation- you have a reason to be stressed.

So Death went home and that was that.

It was less than a five-minute walk to his apartment so he walked all the way. As he walked Death hummed the tune to ride of the valkyries, it was a good piece. Finally, Death reached his domain, his fifth-floor apartment. 

Using his keys Death unlocked the door- how else was he supposed to do that?- and walked in.

He was just putting his keys down and hanging up his jacket when he heard something. Well, it was than something, to be precise it was a crunching sound that ripped through the air, punctuating the calm night with noise. Anyway, you get the, don’t you? Good.

Death rushed to the window and looked out. At present the view from the said window was not at its best. Two cars along with a motorcycle lay slightly twisted and blackened in a sad heap. ‘A car crash’ thought Death. There hadn’t been a car crash since- well since he moved in around 1983. So he was obviously surprised and very shaken.

Trembling slightly Death closed the curtains on the window. Turning around he found an armchair and collapsed into it. Throughout his 3000 years or so of his long life, Death had done many things: he improved his flirting; learnt languages travelled all around the globe; partied; occasionally got drunk and lived and also fought in multiple major wars and conflicts. Even with all that experience Death was shaken by a ‘simple car’ crash.

It's difficult being immortal, Death wondered how he was still sane.

If one is for sure it is hard being Death.