I Keep My Exoskeletons To Myself

During the fifth year following the zombie apocalypse, my father becomes the base commander. It is all because Beckett Walker, my younger brother, and I both have antibodies in our blood that can counter the zombie virus. Mom and Dad give the majority of the supplies and resources to Beckett, because I'm just his "backup". But since I'm the backup, I'm still fed and provided for to ensure that nothing happens to me. However, when I accidentally take the food that was meant for Beckett, Dad slaps me in anger. "You already received your portion of the supplies, so why are you trying to steal Beckett's? He's not only your younger brother, but he's also the hope and future of the base!" Mom shrieks at me, "Are you trying to kill your brother so you can take his place?" I want to refute them. I only took it by accident. I didn't do it on purpose. But before I can, Dad locks me up in the cryopod. It's dark and freezing. I curl up in a corner, my body shaking. I'm sorry, Dad. It's so cold. I promise I won't ever be greedy for food again.

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

I can hear the voices of every organ in the human body. In my three years of practicing medicine, I've never misdiagnosed a single patient. For instance, a young man with wobbly legs comes in for a consultation, suspecting he has a terminal illness. His kidneys, however, start cursing up a storm. "You're juggling eight girlfriends at the same time. Even a workhorse on a farm doesn't get worked this hard!" I try my best not to laugh, prescribe him some supplements, and casually suggest he learn a little time management. Then, a well-dressed white-collar professional walks in and tells me she's experiencing heart palpitations and dizziness and insists that she must have congenital heart disease. Her heart immediately protests loudly in my ear. "You drink three iced Americanos a day! I'm about to burst out of your ribcage and start doing calisthenics!" I smile and prescribe her some chamomile tea. Less than half a month later, she returns with a healthy, rosy complexion to present me with a banner of appreciation. From that moment on, I earn the nickname "the Human X-Ray". … One afternoon, a woman walks in with a listless-looking boy. Maeve Brown looks sick with worry. "Dr. Young, please take a look at him! Lennon has been suffering from headaches, and he has already taken several days off school due to them." However, his brain is practically throwing a party in my ear. "Hell yeah, I successfully skipped class! I'm going to grind ranked matches all night long!" I smile as I diagnose him with malingering, and Lennon White goes home with a flushed face. Ten days later, Maeve and Hubert White burst into my office. This time, Lennon's complexion is pallid. Bracing himself against the doorframe, his body sways uncontrollably. Initially, I assume he's putting on another performance. However, the moment I hear the voices emanating from within his body, my mind goes blank. I immediately push him out of the room and dial 911. "I'd rather treat a dog with this condition than treat you!"

My name is Simone Fitzgibbon, a 5-foot 5 woman, with auburn hair and deep hazel eyes. I am also well-known super model Leona Simmons. How is this possible? My father works in prosthetics. He designed a special bodysuit from my waist to my heels. Once I step into it; I have a flawless figure, making me stand at 5-foot 12. It’s also easy to hide my identity once I take it off. Growing up; I attended an elite high school where there were rich, privileged wankers all over the place. Even though I wasn’t rich nor privileged. The biggest wanker of them all was Richard Peterson. He made my life a living hell with his privileged attitude. I was on the receiving end of a lot of his taunts for the last two years of high school. My only problem now; I am to marry his older half-brother Emmett in two days. Our union was sealed when I was 5 by my mother Celeste and his mother Victoria. They were best friends and fellow journalists. That’s before Mum and her died in a car accident when Emmett was 12 and I was 9. Since then, Emmett and Richard’s father Paul; sent Emmett overseas. We haven’t seen each other since.

It takes aliens long enough to arrive on earth. Victor made friends with one of them. Will he survive the whole alien inversion?

For a $5 million research stipend, I agreed to let the System install an empathic link inside my body. "Subject. Are you sure you want to proceed? Once installed, the procedure cannot be reversed. This is a prototype. Side effects are not fully characterized." I looked at the sidewalk-stall clothes my girlfriend Cara Lake had bought herself, and the drugstore-grade makeup on her vanity. I nodded. That night, while she was out at her bar job. A current came up out of nowhere inside me. My whole body lit up with a sickening pleasure that did not belong to me. Seven times. A few days later I waited near the club where she worked. I overheard her with her friends. "Cara. You're something else. Pouring La Prairie into a plastic bag and using it like that? Faking poor like a champion. Doesn't Adam ever notice?" "Notice? He's stupid. He'll believe anything I say. His father got hit by a car, lay in bed without the money for treatment, died alone. I told Adam I couldn't help. He stayed up all night comforting me. I almost died laughing." The laughter went into me like a knife. I got out of there. The tears came on the walk home. I picked up the phone. "Professor. I'll go to the classified institute. I'll go now."