Jules is a young man barely a century old. He's lived long enough to see the cure for death and the end of scarcity, to learn ten languages and compose three symphonies...and to realize his boyhood dream of taking up residence in Disney World. Disney World! The greatest artistic achievement of the long-ago twentieth century. Now in the keeping of a network of "ad-hocs" who keep the classic attractions running as they always have, enhanced with only the smallest high-tech touches. Now, though, the "ad hocs" are under attack. A new group has taken over the Hall of the Presidents, and is replacing its venerable audioanimatronics with new, immersive direct-to-brain interfaces that give guests the illusion of being Washington, Lincoln, and all the others. For Jules, this is an attack on the artistic purity of Disney World itself. Worse: it appears this new group has had Jules killed. This upsets him. (It's only his fourth death and revival, after all.) Now it's war...

****CURRENTLY UNDER EDITING**** (Chapters with asterisks ** have not been edited yet) edited once: * unedited: ** Prince Aryan needs a princess. Or so his father tells him. ********* "How come I've never met you before?" He asked after a moment of silence. "Probably because I'm new." I scoffed. "I started a week ago. And people like you don't usually notice people like me." "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Exactly what you'd think. You're a prince, I'm basically a servant here. I work in exchange for a place to sleep, food, and clothes." "It's not my fault you're new." He grumbled. "I guess not. I never stay in a kingdom long before leaving." "Does that mean you're leaving here too?" Aryan asked, seemingly disappointed. "We'll see." I shrugged. Of course I was leaving, but I couldn't tell him that. He could try to stop me. "Why do you leave?" He asked. "Why do you stay?"

(reading time: 5 mins) ❝ The chemicals consumed me. And then I fell in love with you, unexpectedly ❞ PPS: I wrote this when I was metaphorically high and drunk. Or maybe not so metaphorically after all.

What would you do if the universe gave you a second shot at love? [#1 in youngwritershortstory 12/27/19]