Thank you for purchasing Boost! With over twenty years on the market, we’re confident that we know you and your body, inside and out. Boost! is the professional choice to keep you going when nothing else will. Used as directed, you’ll be glad you were prepared.

Boost!: Because You’re Not Done Yet!


This product may contain one or more of the following nanite constructs: subdermal wound sealants, isometric muscle enhancers, optic augmentation bots, skeletal substrate constructors (including endosteum metallizers), arch support reactive compression mechanisms, CarboTube(TM) pulmonary baffles, cochlear funneling webs, aortic bryton cyclers, pituitary magnifiers, other natural and nature-identical constructs.
Possible side-effects include: temporary blindness, intense muscle pain and joint stiffness due to accelerated growth, sensory irritation, feelings of disorientation, moments of extreme rage, prolonged elevated fever, fatigue, loss of memory, slurred speech, random outbursts, death.

Do not administer to children under six (6) or elderly over one hundred forty (140).


Remove child-proof cap. Place patented Boost! applicator against neck as shown on applicator package. Squeeze applicator until empty. Nanites will begin rebuilding tissues and augmenting functionality immediately.

It will take approximately 1 minute, 45 seconds (1:45) from the time nanites begin rebuilding user’s tissue to full internal augmentation. We highly suggest user finds a suitable hiding place while the process completes.
When full augmentation is reached, user will have 15 minutes of enhanced functionality. The glucose pack included with the Boost! applicator will provide up to two (2) additional minutes of enhancement. Functionality beyond that time, augmented or otherwise, is neither guaranteed nor implied.
Should Boost! not perform as described and user survives partial augmentation, return applicator and packaging, along with blood and DNA samples for a refund assessment.

Use as directed. For terrestrial military use only.

(NOTE: If this were a movie it would probably be rated R)
“She’s from the edge of the field. The last row by the Fence!” Adam hissed.
“So?” Colin sneered, but he knew what Adam meant. Crystal could be, probably was, of mixed blood. Her mother looked like pure maize, but Crystal’s father could’ve been a grass, wheat, quinoa; anything, really. Any plant that could insinuate its pollen into Crystal’s mother’s private places could have jumped genomes, crossed chromosomes, done the dirty deed and fathered hybrids, hybrids that looked normal, but their own children would be … monsters. They might look like anything.
Colin knew this, but he forgot it all when he looked at her sturdy stem, her graceful leaves with their adorable tips, ever so slightly curved to left or right, her roots, beautiful in their symmetry. Love might not be stronger than prejudice, but lust sure was. What he wouldn’t do to get his pollen into her warm moist receptacles. A little pollen squirted out at the thought of the verdant Crystal and her divine form, and a breeze carried it to the fence and over.
Colin blushed to his roots. Had anyone seen? It seemed no one had. Whew! He was the only one who knew, and he would forget his inadvertent emission as soon as possible.

Delilah stretched her blossoms to catch the pollen ejaculated by the fine young maize plant she’d been ogling from the outboard side of the path. He must have been watching her. She had seen him staring at the flowers outside the Garden, and she was the most … inviting. She had pursed her petals at him, and had made him come with a gesture. How cool was that?!
Pollen grains drifted into several of Delilah’s flowers. They adhered, and their tubes began to grow. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.
Soon Delilah’s ovaries swelled, gravid with chimerae. The seeds set, were fertile, and landed in due time on good, black soil. Alas, by the time they sprouted the following spring Delilah had moved on through the circle of life. She was nought but a withered brown nub. Colin had been harvested by a combine, and his aborted progeny were distributed among a few dozen cans of corn.
The end
*Yes, plant sex is weird and inventive. Successful reproduction between members of different species is just the beginning. Check out

I grew up in a tenement that looked out on the back of the minotaur’s head. The minotaur statue is older than the city and taller than any building in it. Our tenement is nearly as tall, not nearly as old, and in far worse repair.

The statue gazes out across the plain of salt, which the scholars say was a sea that dried up years ago, and my siblings and I gaze with it into the hazy horizon.

The scholars don’t know who built the statue, or why, but everyone else says it’s a marker to guide travelers over the salt plain. However, everyone, including the scholars, agrees the plain is impossible to cross–too vast, too empty of landmarks. With all the wind-stirred dust, you can’t navigate by stars; by day, you could barely guess where the sun is.

My brothers and sisters and I do go out onto the plain at daybreak and dusk, when the twilight seeps into everything, and we might be walking on a flat of sky. It’s the one advantage we’ve got in the salt quarter. The old city has history; the river districts have trade and communication with distant lands; and the elite quarter has the evening cool of the mountains. A half hour at either end of the day to explore an empty blue world doesn’t seem like much in comparison.

We find our way back by the broken silhouettes of the mountains, and the prongs of the minotaur’s horns above them. One night, we found a man collapsed at the base of the minotaur statue, covered in salt dust. Under the white coating, we saw his glasses and boots were the blue of twilight on the plain.

We went for a healer and returned to find the man gone. The scholars and city guard told us he was a lunatic who’d wandered out onto the plain. We didn’t believe them; we knew the impossible when we saw it.

They built his pyre on our rooftop–our building was closest, and they didn’t want to move him far, which made us even more suspicious. We knew secret ways, so we crept up and stole his boots and glasses.

We argued all night and drew lots. In the predawn twilight, the glasses show me trails on the plain. I set my foot on one to see where the boots will take me…

Subject: Impending Doom
Date: Tuesday, October 8, 2008 – 08:00:00


The email response you will send today at 09:13:02 will never make it to me. You won’t know that because you’ll be in jail soon after you send it, so I’m telling you now.

The bomb threats you’ll phone in in five minutes to the Wells Fargo Tower and City Hall will be taken seriously. I know you don’t actually want to do it — at least not yet — but the police don’t know that. In about fifteen minutes everyone will find out the threats are more than threats. Don’t worry, not everyone in the buildings will be killed this time.

In prison you’ll experience unspeakable atrocities. You’ll seethe with rage at the unfairness of the situation, and you’ll hate the world even more. You’ll hate yourself. You’ll want to lash out, punish someone, anyone, any way. But after three years behind bars, you’ll come to terms with it. Discover that you were right all along. Realize that the only problem was that you didn’t destroy enough.

I know you don’t want to do this, but in a way, deep down inside, you do. Many people do. I’m still here typing this and the article I’ve attached hasn’t changed, so you must have gone through with it.

You’re wondering what I want from you. It’s easy: I need you to place the calls, take the blame, do the first three years. Tell them whatever you want to tell them. They won’t believe you anyway.

Just three. Easy. Years. Then I’ll take over. You’ll be ready then, and we can be a team.

Then we’ll burn it all to the ground.


Forwarded Attachment:
> News Release: Reuters
> Date: Wednesday, October 9, 2009
> Title: Man says future self told him to destroy skyscrapers
> Abstract: Accused terrorist Jonathan Quill, 28, says that a future version of him sent a message back in time, telling him to
> blow up the Wells Fargo Tower and City Hall. He claims that he is not responsible for the actions of his future self, and that
> he did not, in fact, place explosives in the buildings in question. Mr. Quill is currently under arrest pending psychiatric evaluation.
> Click here to read more…

Archive for the ‘Luc Reid’ Category

Auto Draft

Friday, May 2nd, 2014

Auto Draft

Friday, May 2nd, 2014

« Older Posts |