Curiosity.

This idea, this fundamental concept is at the centre of all creation, of everything there is and everything that will be. Example: Milk.

One day, someone with too much free time and probably dying of thirst, began staring at a cow. And stared. And kept staring, till a thought, a question, an idea popped into his mind. He became curious, curious if the cow was hiding something delicious in its udders. The dairy industry has never been the same since.

So I invite you on a journey, a question, a fleeting fancy, so mad and so stupid no sane person would ever think about it.

What if curiosity had a body? What if the idea of curiosity itself existed in physical form?

Contrary to popular belief, this fundamental driving force, curiosity itself, does not technically exist. It needs sensory inputs; it needs limitation; it requires a vessel that can be defined in space and time, a fixed point. How can something limitless, that's everywhere, that's an idea, interact with the laws of physics and reality? It can't.

That being said, this force had a consciousness. It was composed of every half-drunken musing, each hold my beer moment, every stupid question ever asked. If you ever felt the urge to use icing cream in place of shaving cream, it was probably curiosity bouncing in your skull.

Today, a new idea was added to this consciousness.

This idea gripped the undeveloped mind of curiosity with the ferocity of a starving wolf. How to achieve this? It could possess a body, it had the power, but it's not as easy as it sounds.

Besides, it's not a good idea to give away your body willy nilly, you never know what's listening.

Curiosity stretched, searching, stretching its energies to the limit. Bypassing realities, universes, space and time, it looked. Time is not something an idea is bothered with, so in a short time, or a long one, depending on which dimension you are looking from, it found someone.

Let's take a look, shall we?

Steve was sitting on a stump, having a cigarette and contemplating the meaning of life. Why was he contemplating the meaning of life? It was mostly the two people in front of him.

He was sitting around a small campfire, in the backyard of his grandparent's house, with two of his best friends, who were currently exchanging clothes.

One of them was a tall woman, Jill, 20 years of age, dressed in cargo shorts, a dark blouse, and sandals. Her straw-coloured hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, complementing her heart-shaped face and blue eyes. Both of these beautiful features were currently twisted in rage. Probably because she just took off her blouse and handed it over to the person sitting opposite her.

The man sitting opposite on a stump, a huge grin on his face looked identical to the woman in front of him. Same hair, eyes, a heart-shaped face, with a bit more sharpened features, and the same age. It probably helped that they were twins.

Oh, and he was named Jack. Yes, their parents were not the most imaginative people. He had a yellow skirt on him, clearly taken from his sister, and was in the process of taking off his shirt, displaying his chiselled muscles to the autumn wind. With a mischievous smile and a wink towards Steve, he chucked his shirt into the fire.

"Oops," he said, his tone sugary and full of innocence.

"Oops my ass!" Jill stomped her feet. "You did that on purpose!"

Jack smiled innocently.

"GIVE. IT. BACK!" Jill tried to grab her shirt, but her brother just danced out of the way.

"It's mine now," Jack replied. "Unless you want to have another bet?"

Steve was contemplating if he should have bought more alcohol. Or if it was a good idea to invite his friends over. He had not seen them in years, being busy drinking, and smoking his university years away.

He's betting both of his balls that this will escalate in a stupid and probably insane way, and he will be the one who suffers for it. Why is he even hanging out with these people? Nostalgia? Is he a closet masochist? They have not changed a bit. No matter, they are not kids anymore; he will not let them pull the same shit again.

Steve checked his phone for the fourth time. It was 9pm. Would they make a fuss if he kicked them out in half an hour? Not sure, but if they don't calm down, heads will be smashed. He just wanted a relaxing Friday drinking and smoking dammit.

Turning his head, he looked at his childhood companion and confidant Malbo for help. There was none there. That was probably because Malbo was a seven feet robot made exclusively from cigarette boxes. It was Steve's proudest achievement yet; it had taken him years to create.

"I still don't understand why you keep that piece of junk around," Jack said, catching Steve's eye. "I'm amazed it still stands."

"Hey, leave Malbo alone!" Steve snapped. "He did nothing to you!"

"Jill, I never understand what you saw in a man who builds robots out of cigarette boxes."

Jill did not respond, eyes fixed on Steve.

"Sis," Jack continued a bit of dread in his voice. "Whatcha thinking? Don't tell me another stupid idea is coming to you."

"Shit," Steve swore.

He knew that look.

Jill's eyes lit up with sparkle, and she turned around, facing the smoking man. Uh oh, it's starting; maybe he should make an excuse and run into the house now, or just chug down the bottle of vodka in his hands. Perhaps he could blackout himself, but it was too late.

Jill was there, grabbing him by the front of his collar, giving him a rough kiss, forcing his teeth apart with her tongue, shoving it down his throat. After a minute of abusing his face, she let it go, turning around with a beaming look, saliva dripping down her jaw. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and said:

"I dare you to do that."

Jack, still smiling like a loon, stood up from his stump, turned, and slowly, robotically, started shuffling towards Steve, who was staring glassy-eyed, into nothing, paying no attention to the happenings around him.

When Jack was a foot away, he put both of his hands on Steve's cheeks. Instantly, the brown-haired man's eyes snapped into focus and quickly assessed the situation.

"Mate," He said towards Jack, who was trying to tilt up his head. "What are you doing?"

"Just a quick smooch," Responded the blond man, trying to apply a bit more force to the head tilt.

"A quick smooch?"

Grabbing the bottle in a reverse grip, Steve smashed it into Jack's gut. Then, letting go of the container, he grabbed the blonde by the shoulders, smashing his knee into the same spot. Jack folded over, sliding to the floor.

"If you are gonna try again; I'm gonna take this bottle." He picked up the empty bottle, and with a quick and practised motion, smashed it against the stump. It was a miracle the shard did not hit anyone. "And ram it into your gut."

"You let Jill kiss you!" Whined Jack. "Why not me?"

"Jill is a hot woman," Steve said, ignoring the triumph in Jill's face.

"I call sexism! Homophobia!"

"Mate, at least take me on a date or two before you try to kiss me."

"Jill didn't do that!"

"We dated for two years mate."

"Good point."

"Come on, Steve," Jill said in a sing-song voice. "It will not hurt, it would be just like the old times, sharing everything between the three of us."

"Exactly why I broke up with you."

"Point," She said, helping her brother up.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Groaning and complaining, Jack stood up. An awkward silence descended upon the three of them. The kind of quiet you encounter when you meet old friends after years of absence, and you realise they are the exact same jackasses as before. Not on an ounce of change.

Jill looked at Jack. He looked back. As one they turned facing Steve and said in unison.

"Come on; it will be just like old times."

"I'm not dealing with this shit," Steve said.

He began bringing up the half-broken bottle to protect himself and quickly realised something. The bottle was gone. Searching around, he found it in Jill's hands, who winked, and threw the bottle behind her.

Shit. Steve began searching frantically in his pockets. The only thing he found was his wallet, his lighter, and oh, a packet of cigarettes. Might as well. With practised ease, he put a stick in his mouth.

"I did not agree to this," he said, lighting a cigarette. "You guys can fuck off."

"Are you sure?" they said in unison.

"Yes, I'm sure." The cigarette lit up, and he took a quick puff from it. "We are not teenagers anymore; you can't do weird shit like that anymore."

"Why not?" They were side by side now, stepping forwards. "Is it not fun?" It's even creepier now than in school.

"It's not. My body, my rules."

"Are you sure it's not ours? Like old times?"

"Anybody's but yours." Steve shuffled back, bent his knees, and prepared to fight.

"Anybody?" They stretched out their arms.

"Yes, anybody."

Right at that moment, an intense white light came from the heavens, so fast and so fierce; it blinded everyone in the immediate area. As quickly as it happened, it was gone. When the twins managed to blink away the spots in their eyes, they looked at Steve, or at least, the place he was supposed to be. There was nothing there, except a half-smoked cigarette. It was still burning.

In a spacious laboratory, standing behind a high terminal, Professor Darius Dovan was getting ready. Today, the professor was trying out a new summoning experiment, suggested by his assistant. The test consisted of a pentagram made of glitter, a wheel of cheese, and extremely potent wine.

At first, the teachers, or more specifically, the only other teacher in the university, objected quite vocally about this clearly insane and stupid experiment. Sadly, it did not work. There is only so much arguing one can do with a mad scientist who achieved twelve different doctorates.

Especially when one of these doctorates was achieved by replacing most of his internal organs by machinery, including half his brain and fusing a metal facemask to his head. Initially, the facemask covered his whole face, but when everybody started complaining that it scared the children, Darius conceded, and thin lips and an even smaller nose was visible. He drew the line at organic eyes though; the ability to zoom 20 times and see infrared was too useful.

The only non-modified part of his body was a third arm, more of a claw really, poking through his dirty lab coat at his back. The claw was furiously typing away at a tablet at his side.

"Assistant," Darius said, voice raspy and robotic. "Are you ready?"

The doctor's assistant, Mark, was a human. Well, kind of. He was tall, thin, with surprisingly attractive features. If you ignored the bloodshot eyes darting madly about, the curly hair changing colours every few seconds, and the veins pulsing blue under his pale skin. He was nibbling on a piece of cheese.

"Assistant!" Darius' voice turned sharp. "What did I tell you about showing up pumped full of drugs before an experiment?"

"Don't do it?" Mark said, voice alert and attentive.

"Yes," Darius said. "So why did you do it?"

Mark just shrugged, taking another bite out of the cheese. The poor bastard was the only one who was willing to assist Darius in his experiments, and he only needed to pay him a pittance, so the professor had no choice but to just roll with his antics. He wished he would stop eating the reagents for the rituals, though; it took weeks to procure them.

"Young people these days," muttered the professor. "No respect for true science."

"Your so-called science almost tore a hole in reality," Mark said between bites. "At least five times."

Darius chose to ignore this. He refocused.

"Assistant, are you ready?"

"Sure," Mark nodded. "But why are we doing this again? I know we are doing the ritual a bit different this time, but we already summoned a demon, and while she definitely fits the look of one." Mark's eye flashes blue for a second. "She explicitly stated that there is nobody in her realm that can fix that."

Darius gave his assistant a flat look.

"It was your idea to try it," the professor said slowly.

"Was it?" Mark took a bite from the cheese and shrugged. "Let's crack on then."

The doctor looked one more time at his calculations. Then he said.

"Experiment number 107, glitter, cheese and wine, start."

Mark pulled out a bottle of wine from his lab coat, and then gingerly went into the middle of the pentagram, being careful not to touch the glittery lines. He put down the cheese, poured a little bit of wine on it, and then put the bottle down. After that, he stepped back.

Seeing his assistant getting out of the danger zone, Darius lifted his arms, slowly moving them in a circular pattern, murmuring soft words.

The world blurred. A heavyweight, like someone dropping a bag of bricks, settled on the occupants. The cheese started to glow brightly, forcing everybody to shield their eyes.

After a few seconds, the effects faded. Blinking out spots from their eyes, the occupants of the room reassessed the situation. The cheese and wine were gone, and in their place was a young human on his back. He had a sorry excuse for brown hair, green eyes, and a face only a mother could love, or a severely drunk person.

"Assistant?" Professor Darius clambered to his feet. "Status?"

"Alive," Mark announced, dusting himself down. "For once."

Darius said nothing. Lifting his hands and murmuring soft words under his breath, he let loose a torrent of life-force. The faint blue line passed through the young man like he was not even there.

Huh, the professor thought, that was not supposed to happen. He tried again. Same result.

"No life force to bounce back from," Darius muttered. "How strange, it does not look un-dead or artificial to me." He began quickly typing behind his terminal. "Mark! Scan please!"

Mark picked up a remote from a table next to him and pressed a button. A transparent panel lowered from the ceiling, outside the pentagram. The panel blinked twice, and a detailed diagram of the human appeared on the panel. No trace of Nanomachines. Strange.

The brown-haired young man looked curiously at the diagram displaying him and pointed at it, then at himself, nodded, and let a slow grin spread across his face. Mark nodded encouragingly. He turned to the assistant and opened his mouth. Gibberish came out. He tried again. Still nonsense.

"Translator," Darius instructed.

Mark pressed another button. A floating tray lowered from the ceiling. It had two amulets and two white pills on it. The professor snapped his claw, catching everyone's attention in the room.

"This," he said in a calm voice, picking up one of the amulets. "Will let you talk to me." He put the charm on. It pulsed once.

A video appeared on the panel, explaining the same thing with a realistic rendering of Darius and the young human wearing the amulet and then nodding in understanding. The tray floated to the young man, and he took a good look at it. He picked up the talisman, looked at it intensely, and then put it on. There was no pulse.

He tried speaking again, but it was still gibberish. The tray floated back to Darius. He picked up the white pill.

"This contains Nanomachines," Darius explained. "They will nestle into your ear and translate all known languages into your brain." He snorted the pill, his nose making a suction sound.

On the panel, a video began playing, showing the path of the small machines taking their journey through the nose, up to the brain, and finally settling in the ear. The tray flew back, and the young man picked up the pill, licked it, and with some difficulty, put it in his nose and snorted. He gave his nose a few whacks, just to make sure.

"Can you understand me now?" asked Darius.

"Yes!" the young man said. "Thank you." His cheerful attitude clashed horribly with a voice that belonged to a man who spent too much time smoking and drinking in shady bars. It was jarring.

"I'm Professor Darius Dovan, and the fellow with the pink hair is my assistant, Mark. What's your name?"

"Me?" The brown-haired man blinked. "A name?" He looked questioningly at his own hands for a few seconds and then said slowly. "Call me, Curiosity?"

The occupants of the room blinked. Was that a question?

"Curiosity, then." Darius just rolled with it. "My apologies for any inconvenience my summoning ritual has caused." It's best to be polite when summoning something unknown.

"No, no," the young man waved the apology away. "I should thank you. You gave me the perfect opportunity to escape."

"Escape?" Mark asked.

"Oh, yes," he beamed. "It's rare that there is such a high concentration of my energy in one place."

"Your energy?"

"Curiosity, of course." He started bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Curiosity?"

"Ah, a spirit then," Darius guessed.

"A spirit?" The young man furrowed his brow. "No," he waved off the idea. "I'm not a spirit. I'm curiosity itself." With that, he stepped out of the pentagram.

The scientist and assistant froze. Turrets extended from the ceiling. A countdown began on the panel. Once it reached zero, it would plunge this room and all of its inhabitants into a subspace, with no chance to escape.

"I have not made a contract," Darius said, stepping away from his terminal. Nobody, not even a god, could step out of a pentagram. He was sure of it; he had summoned gods before. He quickly put the pieces together.

"You were not what we were supposed to summon." He raised his claw in, preparing to shoot Curiosity full of lasers if necessary.

"Yep." The young man smiled as gently as his face would allow it. He slowly lifted his hands, keeping his head up. "From my understanding, this is a universal gesture of surrender." He lowered himself to his knees. "I'm no threat."

"What do you want?" Darius eased down but did not relax.

"I just want to live," Curiosity said. "To exist. To experience life. I just started existing a few seconds ago, cut me a bit of slack."

"Why did you hijack the ritual then?"

"I had no choice; Reality would have crushed me. This was my only chance of escape."

"Why?"

"I'm not supposed to exist, you know. Reality does not like things that are not supposed to, you know, exist."

"Why this ritual?" Darius gestured to Curiosity to stand up.

"There was a high concentration of my energy here." Curiosity was grateful to stand up. His muscles were starting to get sore. He was not sure he liked sore muscles.

"Energy?"

"You know," he shrugged helplessly. "Curiosity," He was not sure how to explain it. "If someone is curious about something, I know."

"What does that have to do with this experiment?"

"You experimented out of curiosity, right?"

"It was in the name of science."

"If that's what you wanna call your curiosity then sure." Curiosity itself took a deep breath and then said, "Well, there you have it. The more energy I have in one place, the easier it is for me to twist reality a bit."

"Twist reality?" Mark said. "Like twisting the fabric of space and time? You can do that without drugs?"

Curiosity shrugged. Darius decided to let it go. He will keep an eye on him, but if he could twist reality, then maybe... Well, let's see and wait.

"Well then, if you mean us no harm, then I welcome you on our planet." The professor extended a hand. "Are you familiar with the handshake? It's considered a gesture of goodwill and friendship."

"Yes," Curiosity said.

They shook hands.

"Would you like to rest?" Darius asked. "I have a spare room where you could sleep."

"Oh, yes."

"Curiosity?"

"Yes."

"You can let go of my hand now."

"Oh, yes."

He did not let go. Darius took him upstairs, still holding hands.

-- Hi From Eastern Europe, more specifically, Transylvania, Romania. Im going to upload the story i have written, chapter by chapter till the end and see what happens. I just want some feedback, see if i have what it takes, etc etc. People who read my book liked it, but the sample size is to small to draw any concrete conclusions and actually improve my writing. Im not going to leave too many comments like this, i feel it takes away from the flow of the story, but i wanted to clarify my reasoning for doing this. --AB