It was approaching 2am when Lexi made the discovery that would fracture the world. She skulled the rest of her black coffee and sat the paper cup down on the smooth, white table. She was at the university working on her PhD thesis. The research involved creating controlled, miniature black holes in a Vacuity Machine and then testing its potential for hyper-space travel. It was mostly hypothetical research.
Lexi ran the formulas through the Vacuity Machine over and over again. She was analysing the results of her most recent trial, bleary-eyed from a lack of sleep, when a chill ran from her tail bone to her shoulders.
"Holy mother of God," she said to the air. She took a moment to catch her breath.
Lexi had found evidence that no god existed.
No god, gods or any divine creators of life.
None. Nothing.
And it was all discovered by accident, as an unexpected side effect of her research.
The proof was irrefutable. Undeniable. It was flashing on the screen of this machine in an insignificant laboratory at an unimportant university on an irrelevant planet.
Her proposal wasn’t intended to yield any definitive conclusions but black holes are a mystery and when you continuously prod the unknown, something unintentional is bound to occur.
I need to call Steve. She thought.
Forty-five minutes later and her supervisor-turned-lover, Steve, burst through the door of the lab.
"Where?" he asked. Lexi pointed to the screen.
"I'm certain I interpreted the data correctly but I need another pair of eyes,” she said.
Steve hurried over to the screen, eyes focused on the target like a predator on its prey. A silence stretched on for the next hour as Steve filtered through the results. Lexi watched the screen over his shoulder, trying to find a flaw in the formula, a discrepancy in the data. She was overwhelmed by the potential power she held. Finally, Steve turned around to face her. He took off his glasses and looked at her with an unnatural glow in his eyes.
"It's watertight, Lex,” he said. “There’s no doubt about it.”
He made a sound that was somewhere between and laugh and a cry.
"We're officially godless."
*
A few hours passed as they retested the hypothesis. The results came out the same every time. They left the lab as the sun rose and Steve offered to drive Lexi home. She refused, preferring to walk home in the crisp morning air. She needed to process the impact of her discovery. Steve understood, gave her a quick peck on the lips and sped back home in his Subaru.
Lexi walked home on the path that followed the beachfront. She breathed in salt and leaves and coffee from a nearby van where a man was selling hot beverages to morning walkers. She bought a black coffee, exchanging a polite smile with the barista, and sat on a bench overlooking the calm ocean.
The discovery did not threaten Lexi’s identity. She had never truly been religious. “Agnostic,” she’d say if the topic ever arose but she had never based her life on these beliefs. Still, as she sipped her bitter coffee and watched the amber sky give way to blue, she felt as if some mystery or some sort of magic had departed the earth. She watched the passers-by. The runner with a pram, the women laughing and gossiping on their power walk, a dog playing fetch with its owner in the shallows of the ocean.
Lexi could already feel the foundations of society buckling under the weight of her discovery. Society was mostly secular these days but she understood the importance and the need for purpose even if it was an illusion.
And here I am... one person who rendered everything meaningless.
The realisation pierced her conscience like a nail through skin. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t take responsibility for it.
I need to call Steve. She thought for the second time that morning. She pulled out her phone and touched Steve’s name. There was barely any time for a ring before Steve picked up.
"Lexi!" his face appeared on her phone screen.
“Steve, listen to me. We can’t release the results to the public.”
“What are you talking about? Why not?” he demanded.
Tears began to gather around the lids of her eyes.
“I can’t do it. It’s not ethical.”
His tone changed, became softer and more reassuring.
"Oh darling, don't be worried. This is a good thing. Trust me.”
He paused for a moment.
“This… is the right thing, Lex.”
“You can't know that,” she countered.
“I know that it might stop some oppressive regimes and wars. It’ll shut up those bigoted zealots for a start.”
"Steve, we’re not doing it. We’re just not.” Her voice was surer now, more adamant.
Steve took a deep breath in and pushed the air back out with a long sigh.
"Look, Lex. This is an amazing thing you've discovered. Don't hide it. The world should know.”
“I’m not so- “
He interjected, “even without religion, people will still find something to believe in."
There was silence between them for a few seconds.
"Plus, I've forwarded the research to a few contacts at NASA. They’re briefing the President this afternoon.”
***
Pope James was jostled out of sleep by his 5am alarm. He rose out of bed, put on his white robe, its matching zucchetto and his large, silver crucifix which weighed down comfortably around his neck.
At the end of the corridor was his private chapel, a room in which he took morning mass alone. The chapel was dressed in cardinal red from the velvet curtains to the patterned, Italian rug on the floor. The red was contrasted by a white and gold alter adorned with roses and cream candles that flickered when lit. Frankincense coated the room with its earthy, sweet notes. A white Jesus on a dark wooden cross hung from the wall above the alter, his face tired and weary. Pope James knelt before the Son of God.
O Lord, I come to you to praise you on this great early morning as the sun begins to rise…
As he gave his silent thanks, he found his mind wandering to Sister Celia. Images of her tanned skin and soft, brown eyes bubbled to the surface of his memory and he shook his head quickly as if to burst them.
Give me guidance to lead and to inspire, give me strength to overcome the trials…
Her smile pierced his concentration. Her lips distracted his focus as thoughts of her continued to inundate him.
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Pope James opened his eyes and looked to his left where the life-sized statue of the Virgin Mary and her baby stood, watching over him with an expression of love and purity. He averted his eyes out of shame, as if she was real and could read his thoughts.
*
The meeting to discuss the discovery was scheduled for 9am. Pope James walked through the arches of the Papal apartment halls. The blue and gold painted ceiling reflected onto the polished marble floor which was so clean it appeared as if a thin layer of water ran across it. Father John, his butler, followed a footstep behind.
“Are you concerned, Pope James?” asked Father John.
“Not in the slightest.” Pope James kept his eyes fixed ahead of him as they spoke.
“A lot of the world leaders are,” Father John pushed. “They’re nervous about the potential for chaos and instability.”
Pope James stopped.
“And are you, Father John, suggesting that I too should be worried about the potential implausibility of our God?”
Father John didn’t shy away from this test of authority.
“No. My faith is stronger than ever as I’m sure yours is too. But I’ve never seen rational world leaders behaving as senselessly as they are now. Some major cities in the USA have been shut down to counteract a potential increase in public violence. That in itself is concerning.”
“A lot of those leaders should be rejoicing, shouldn’t they? Isn’t this what they’ve always wanted?”
Pope James offered no more thoughts and they continued walking in silence.
Father John had a point. Uncertainty, often accompanied by fear, was spreading through the masses like an unmanageable viral outbreak, and not just in the USA. The data of the research wasn’t public knowledge but rumours were already placing a strain on the population’s peace of mind.
They approached the meeting room, a large rectangle outlined by a ring of wooden chairs. Dark, mahogany bookshelves lined the cream walls and a patterned, crimson rug took up the space in the centre of the room where one might expect a table to be. Pope James sat at the right side of the room in front of a religious painting. Papal members entered the room in single file and each took their seats on the perimeters. Sister Celia sat a few chairs away from the Pope and they shared a brief smile. Then Pope James stood.
“Good morning all,” he announced.
“We are here to discuss the academic research of Alexa Miller and Stephen Chalmers which, apparently, provides evidence that God does not exist.”
A small laugh sounded from the Papal members.
“I would like to note that this is something I would not usually waste our time with, however, a number of world leaders have placed a large amount of pressure on us to investigate the research.”
Pope James looked across the room, making eye contact with each Papal member as he spoke.
“As modern members of the Vatican, we must work with political leaders and carry out our duties as leaders of the church to unify the voice of Catholicism. I am hoping that we can be finished with this spectacle before lunchtime.” He smiled and the room indulged his cynical dig with a collective laugh.
“Let’s begin.”
Four men, all dressed in black suits, took the verbal cue and entered the middle of the room. They began to set up a large computer which looked alien in a such a traditionally-designed room. The computer was the size of a vending machine and a similar shape too. Its dull, silver flanks had multiple cables running from it to circular outlets on a black cube nearby. Lights were flashing on and off. A power bank of sorts, Pope James speculated. Other cables from the silver structure led to a small screen perched on top of a table that the computer men had brought in. After about fifteen minutes, one of them spoke.
“Pope James, it is ready for you to observe.”
Pope James pushed himself out of his seat and walked towards the computer screen.
“We will run the formulas through the computer as Alexa Miller did. Then we will proceed to break down the results for you and the Papal members for discussion.” The man’s words came off as slightly patronising but Pope James brushed his annoyance aside.
“Okay, let’s get this done with.”
*
Three hours later and the room was silent with shock. The suited men had left and taken their hideous technology with them, leaving the members to discuss the events privately.
Suddenly, the silence gave way to a cacophony of chaos as members, hit by the reality of the discovery, broke into fits of panic.
“Silence. Silence!” Pope James stood up and shouted above the discordance of voices. Everybody succumbed to his command.
“What we have witnessed today is indeed alarming and unexpected. But God would not want us to behave like primitive monkeys in light of what we have seen. I am suggesting that this is a sinister ploy by the Devil and we should discuss how to approach it.”
He only partially believed what he had said.
Someone shouted from the other end of the room. “God doesn’t exist and neither does the Devil! You all just saw it for yourselves!”
“Our lives and work have been a joke!” Another yelled and an angry murmur of agreement echoed throughout the room.
For the first time, Pope James was scared. He improvised.
“If your faith in our Holy Father dithers so easily in the face of a devilish charade, then you no longer deserve to be a part of the Vatican and I ask you to leave immediately.”
He’d intended it to come out as more of a threat than an instruction and was startled when lifelong friends and colleagues filed out of the meeting room. Only five remained, including himself. Father John, a Bishop, another priest he did not know well and Sister Celia.
"You need to make a public speech denouncing the research,” the Bishop urged. “By saying nothing, you're making a statement. You're admitting that they're right."
"People will think you agree with them," Father John chimed in and the others nodded in agreement. Sister Celia grabbed his hand.
"What is He telling you, Pope James?" she asked.
Everybody fell silent, choosing to ignore the inappropriate physical contact. Pope James became aware of a quiet pecking at the window. His gaze followed the sound and he spotted a pigeon sitting on the stone ledge just outside the window, its head turning directions quickly and sporadically as if it were stuck in a glitch. The others looked at the pigeon too.
"Pope James?" Sister Celia spurred him out of his trance.
"I will hold a public speech to reassure the believers. He is telling me that there is nothing to fear as long as our faith remains strong. And mine is immovable."
He felt his stomach sink as the words left his mouth.
*
Pope James did not sleep for the next four nights.
*
The morning of the speech, Pope James rose from his bed and put on his robe as usual. He fixed the silver crucifix around his neck, noting his dark eyes in the mirror. The wrinkles around his face were more pronounced than usual and the colour in his eyes seemed to have greyed.
He knelt at the alter in his private chapel as he did each day, delirious with anxiety. He hadn’t felt the respite of sleep for days and was finding it hard to distinguish the difference between reality and unreality. Weren’t they the same thing now anyway?
"God, give me guidance. Give me faith. Show me that you are real," he pleaded to the heavens but the words felt weightless.
The air in the room felt still. The candles no longer flickered as they usually did. The frankincense smelt burnt somehow. He looked to his left where the Virgin Mary stood. She looked at him and the sides of her smile began to stretch up her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed and her lips split apart releasing an otherworldly laugh and Pope James fell from his knees onto the ground in fear. He bolted out of the room, trying to escape the overwhelming sense of claustrophobia.
On his way out, he bumped into Sister Celia, sweet-scented and solemn.
“Pope James,” she gasped. “I heard you yell from your chapel and rushed over. Are you alright?”
She held his elbow, offering comfort, and looked up at him. Pope James was breathing rapidly like a panicked child. Sister Celia maintained her composure.
“Come with me. I’ll make you a tea to calm your nerves.”
“But the speech is only an hour away. I need to prepare.”
“The best thing for you right now, is to sit down and breathe.”
***
Lexi and Steve sat together on a dirty, blue couch watching the news from a safe house in the middle of wherever. They had moved there yesterday after angry strangers starting attacking them on the streets and just before heated mobs had found their addresses.
The news broadcasted scenes of civil disruption. Looters climbed through the broken windows of shops, trucks sped through smoke-filled streets and places of worship burned down with voracious flames. In other shots, masses of people were seen praying to a giant banner hooked up to the side of a building. On it was a painting of Lexi’s face.
Neither Lexi nor Steve commented. They were numbed and convinced themselves that the outside world was a separate, fictional reality. Steve broke the silence.
“It’s nearly time, switch it to World News.”
Lexi felt sick. She had caused this mayhem, this Armageddon of sorts. She didn’t want to watch the speech but she switched the channel anyway. Something inside her hoped that Pope James would say something to rectify the situation, to reverse the damage she’d caused.
The Pope’s gaunt face shone from the TV. His tired, frail body moved up the steps to the podium where the microphone was placed. Lexi remembered him being old but not this old.
“Hello,” Pope James said as he leaned into the microphone.
“Many of you have been waiting for my comment on Alexa Miller’s discovery.”
Lexi felt like retching when he said her name.
“And I would just like to say that I have observed the evidence and have reflected on it.”
He stared up at the sky for a long time. Lexi could see from the close-up that he was shaking. He pulled something out from somewhere in his robe and raised it to his chin.
Lexi screamed and the TV visuals shook as the cameraman temporarily lost control of the camera. Before the Pope could pull the trigger, a nun jumped across the stage and tackled him to the ground. Pope James cried as the nun cradled him in her arms. After a long moment, he looked up at the nun and kissed her.
“The world’s gone mad,” Steve said.
“No thanks to us,” Lexi replied.
They looked at each other gravely and after a while, broke into a laugh.
And they laughed until they no longer could.
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The ending is sort of how I feel when anyone tells me writing short story fiction might be a waste of time. But then I think, I just want to believe it will lead somewhere someday, and start typing like wild again.
Great writing and good pacing. Look forward to see what you come up with next.
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Sam, you are a good storyteller. Congrats and welcome to the show. Unfortunately, I don't think that is how Pope would handle it.
It would be handled as this new human nature was handled ten years eleven years ago. Each person would suddenly start finding holes everywhere in it. And the discovery would bow to a superior force after attempting to cow, intimidate and manipulate.
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From the perspective of story telling and art of writing, the story is wonderfully written. The vocabulary and use of different writing ingredients were superbly used.
But one thing that messed it all up in a critic professional point of view is your theme. Most likely you may know that a theme is the most important road work to a great story telling. But here your theme is weak and you gave it absolutely nothing. First of all the theme is blurry and has no sense of direction with little details given to it. I believe the theme in the story, which is the central theme, is the nonexistence of God. At first the theme can capture a reader's attention and interest and alluring them into knowing this great discovery that was made, which is a reader practically wanting to know the details of the theme, but you gave nothing whatsoever. You may say that it is a short story and there was word count consideration, that is why there is no much flesh in the theme. But if this was the case, then you could have leave it( and use another story here) and give it the word count that would flesh out the theme satisfactorily. If the word count go and make it a novel, all the better. And for your information, there are books out there with this theme which are brilliantly fleshed out and given as much details as possible. Dan Brown's Origin is one of it. He gave out a brilliant scientific explanation of the nonexistence of God (which you could have given here by the way) and the theme came out well-furnished and superbly written.
But all in all, congrats for your amazing work of writing skills, and I hope that you skin the element of themes and be skilled at it just as you are in your art of writing.
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Interesting story. I would suggest though, as a favor to your readers, who are looking for believability more than anything else, that you detail exactly WHAT the discovery was. It's very hard to imagine what exactly could produce such conclusive evidence that no God exists - in fact, to this day, it hasn't been done. You skip over the most important part, asking your readers to have blind faith in you, almost like you are a God.
Also, it's a tried and tired trope that religious leaders (esp. Catholics) have some secret suppressed sexual desires, and are in the end, weak-willed and cowardly. Along with that, the hero scientist is very in vogue these days. I wish you had made your character a little more imaginative, rather than stereotyped.
It's also interesting that your story seems to advocate for a number of moral absolutes (it's not good to lie to people about the existence of God. It's not good for the Pope to seek to cling to a belief that has been disproven, nor to suppress his doubts. It IS good for Lexi to be torn over the possible negative effects and of sharing such an earth-shattering discovery with the world, i.e. it is good to have a conscience). But the world you created (the world of your story), has no God and therefore should have no moral absolutes, from a narrator's perspective. So if you want to keep your story consistent, then you, as the narrator's voice, need to back off on the moral overtones. Unfortunately, when there is no moral stance from the narrator, it makes for a pretty boring story. Funny, that even your story itself is proof that us humans are INCAPABLE of being morally neutral, and I would say, that it is in our very nature. And where does that nature come from? You'd be hard-pressed to say science, although you could try.
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I agree - the skipping of any explanation as to what the "proof" may be is a serious flaw.
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I think it adds to the story to keep the details mysterious. Modern story telling can tend to over inform the reader. Less was more here, especially in a short story format.
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I have to disagree, because like you said yourself, evidence so conclusive regarding God not existing is hard to imagine and has never been done before. The story is fiction, so how would there be any explanation of the evidence that God doesn't exist without it being nitpicked for being incorrect?
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I agree with Abdullah that the lack of details regarding the proof improves the story; and it avoids the old axiom that one cannot disprove a negative.
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A truly creative idea and well-written story, congratulations on your win, you deserve it. I have to admit though that I was hoping for some unique and unexpected proof that the Pope would come up with to counteract the discovery. But your ending was very creative and unique, nonetheless, and your entire story was really interesting.
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Brilliant!
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Hi Sam! Awesome job on this story. I love the concept, it was super unique and inventive. I wanted to submit for that contest, but I didn't have the time unfortunately. However, I think you definitely deserved the win, and how amazing that you won on your very first submission! This gives me hope that I can win something with one of mine once I start posting on here. On a related note, I read your bio and I just wanted to say that I relate! I'm also a musician who loves creative writing haha! With that said, I love your story and I can't wait to read more from you. Good luck on your next submissions! :)
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You are right on point in the ending. That was one terrible ending from the perspective of the story.
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Loved this story, such a great read, congrats on the win :)
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A great conceit for a story-
Congrats on the win!
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Congratulations! Continued success!
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Congrats on the win. Also props for getting a win on your first submission. Definitely an interesting read.
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This was a very interesting concept! The win was well deserved.
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Loved this one! I was nervous when starting because I thought that this might be a science lesson that I wouldn't understand, but instead was a thoughtful exploration of life's biggest question. Congrats on the win!
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Congratulations Sam. I really enjoyed how you paced the story. The structure kept me guessing and I think you blurred the lines of believable and unbelievable very well.
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Science fiction isn't usually my jam, but I had to read the winner :) Kudos to a unique concept, an (unfortunately) all too real reaction from the world at such news, the multiple points of view btw Lexi and the Pope, and the unexpectedness of both the Pope's attempt a suicide and the nun jumping to save him, leading to a kiss. That was a great ending. Of course I have so many questions...what was the discovery, namely? But I think part of the craft of short fiction is that you can only allude to some things. Congrats on the win!
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[This came to me, much as Archimedes’s epiphany, while I was reading the story in the bathtub – 100% the truth - and it took me the past hour to get it into the computer]
Epilogue
46 year old Khashi Rahman had stopped believing in any kind of personal, all-powerful God at the age of 25. The accident that had taken his entire family away from him had been the catalyst, but some time before that his faith had begun to wane. As the famous New Age musician awaited surgery at St. Michael’s hospital to have the deadly aneurysm removed from his head, he watched a local news broadcast on channel 7. The Science portion of the show (which had brought their ratings up 15%, just in time last May for the annual sweeps, and had saved the producer from a not so golden handshake) blared while the host argued with a young researcher about the validity of making Pluto a fully fledged planet again, in light of the discovery of the 10th globe circling our good old Sol. Rahman noted that Science was not always the steadfast pillar that he had thought it was. New discoveries, like the one made by Alexa Miller and Stephen Chalmers six months before had set the world on its ear. Khashi was fortunate that this hospital was still standing, and that he was a well respected man in his community. Such people sometimes get a bit more consideration than the average citizen. Thank The Universe that he would soon be free of the time bomb in his head, and although his grandfather had succumbed to a similar error of nature, and his father narrowly escaped the same fate, Rahman felt that his 50-50 odds were better than what would happen if he left it be.
The door opened. It was time. He was nervous. Would this be the last event he knew before heading into eternal nothingness? If it was, he’d never know it as he slept on the operating table. As there was clearly no life after death, this could be his last charade. He was given a shot to calm down his brain activity and wheeled into the operating theatre. Three masked faces peered down at him as he was dragged under the spell of the anaesthetist. But before he could wake, he heard strange sounds, machines beeping, voices shouting, a kick in his chest so strong that he thought he might fly off of the table. Then there was that steady tone that approximated a B on a keyboard, as he felt himself float from the operating room slab, before everything stopped. Dead.
After he was brought back (4.8 minutes they told him, much too long for comfort) he had only vague recollections of where he had been. The voice had told him that he wasn’t going to be allowed to stay. But it also whispered a great secret in his ear. That was the one thing he did remember, the secret. But was he supposed to keep quiet about what he knew? The message might disrupt the world as it was. Was it his place to do so? He’d have to think, but right now he was so very tired.
After Khashi Rahman recovered, and an amazing recovery it was, he spent many hours just sitting and reading. They had worried that his brain had suffered irreparable damage. He read about music, about adventures, about cooking and … about the planet Paloma, the 10th body in our solar system that had been verified only six and a half months earlier. Science is not the constant that some might believe he thought. And suddenly, he realized what he had been told.
He must find Miller or Chalmers, to tell them something that made no sense to him. They would think him mad. Maybe he had better just keep quiet about what he had heard. After hours of struggling, and a number of sleepless nights, he called up a friend who he trusted, to ask her for a favour. It took three months to locate the place where Miller was being housed. Rahman’s friend took him to her.
Miller’s aid answered the door, and as he knew that this guest was coming, he let them in. Maybe Rahman’s soothing music could heal the broken spirit of his charge. At least it could not hurt, and he thought about the past year of disruption and how Lexi had suffered. When Khashi saw the broken scientist his heart jumped. Was this the person he had to tell his secret to? She was obviously under the influence of alcohol, and her face looked as if she was at the end of her life. She had turned to heavy drinking just after her partner Stephen committed suicide by injecting himself with a triple dose of Morphine. She looked close to death herself.
Khashi gave a hesitant smile to try to soften the mood or to give him enough courage to speak. He didn’t really know which. He introduced himself, and Miller nodded. She knew his music. He finally got up the guts to ask.
“I don’t know what this means, but I was told to ask you a question” said Khashi.
“What?” asked Lexi.
“Did you use the number 1 as the control in your Black Hole program?” quizzed Khashi.
“What???” asked Lexi.
“As the control, did you use the number 1 in your Black Hole program?” questioned Khashi again.
“Why. What do you know about Science?” shot back Miller.
“Nothing” said Rahman.
“Then what do you mean by asking me a question about nothing you understand?” she asked. “How am I to take you seriously? Have you even read the paper?"
Khashi replied, “No, all I know was that I was told to ask you why you used the number 1 on the 14th page, third line from the bottom as a control number.”
“And what if I did?” snapped Miller.
“It should have been a zero” whispered Khashi.
Minutes went by. As wild as it seems, Alexa Miller looked more dishevelled than she had when the guests arrived. She walked to the window, and gazed out from the 21st floor at a world that had been upturned only 17 months before. Changed forever because of her discovery, and Stephen’s insistence that she must tell the world. She turned to Khashi Rahman, and with tears in her eyes she asked, “Who told you this?” “The One whom you said did not exist,” was his reply. Lexi said “I’m sorry. She’s right. You must tell the world” and then Lexi Miller leapt to her death.
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Hello
I read this story and it's amazing 😍
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Hi Sam, this is a superb piece of writing. The Pope going against everything he stood for his whole life on the world news is very apropos for the story. This story had great flow and good pacing.
Well done Sam! Congratulations on the win.LF6
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Hi Sam, I really enjoyed this. You had some really nice, vivid sequences, and I enjoyed your vision of how the world would react in such a situation.
I would, perhaps, have liked to have some idea of what this ground-breaking discovery that turned the world on its head was, but this was an excellent story regardless.
Great work!
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Congratulations on the win! Well deserved!
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