Moody Library Pods Novels & Stories

"Not in the mood to go through forty minutes of Mr. Kelechukwu, are you coming?" He remained silent for a while before coming with a reply. He held my hand firmly as we headed to the library, the best place to scamp a class was in the library; plain sight. The librarian Ms. Maryam was always delighted to have people you could hear the excitement in her whispers of "welcome". When we made our way to the back of the library's first floor, I pulled out my airpods to make use of my phone and I heard Tochi searching his bag for something but I didn't know what. I was scrolling through the f******k page that abroko made, their were now so many admins; spicydodo being the head of them. If Mofe wasn

But why let a small detail like that stand in the way? An hour later, she stood in front of her mirror, admiring her makeshift disguise: baggy blue pants, a brown belt with a cobra buckle, a collared shirt tucked under a dark vest, black hat, a fake mustache, and boots that had seen better days. "Not bad," she mused. Her reflection was, at best, unconvincing, but desperate times called for questionable outfits.

Moore poured a glass of water for Shirley and said, "The water here is purified from seawater. See if you can get used to it." Shirley shook her head, "I'm not that picky. As long as it's healthy and clean, it's all good. ... Wait, what's this?" Shirley's gaze landed on a side corner, pointing to a monitor screen there. Looking in the direction Shirley pointed, Mr. Moore immediately smiled and said, "This is our real Moore family library. Because it's just too big, manpower simply can't cover the whole area, so it's all maintained and organized by intelligent robots over there. To ensure that these books don't oxidize, the area is kept in a vacuum. If you want to read any book, a robot will

"MegaNoel doesn't delete high-value assets; they just 'Version-Control' them. They keep them here in case they want to 'Remake' the series in ten years." I ran down the central aisle, my eyes scanning the labels on the pods. * **[ASSET: VAMPIRE_COUNCIL_04] - STATUS: ARCHIVED** * **[ASSET: ZOMBIE_OUTBREAK_BETA] - STATUS: DEPRECATED** * **[ASSET: SILVER_MOON_PACK_FINAL] - STATUS: LIQUIDATION_PENDING** "There!" I screamed, slamming my palms against the glass of the Silver Moon pod.

"We can actually feed the children. We can build a real field." "There is another room at the back of the vault," Ezra called out from the dark. I turned my flashlight toward his voice. At the far end of the seed racks stood a heavy glass partition. Behind the glass, three metallic pods stood upright against the wall, connected to thick bundles of copper pipes and black hoses. Two of the pods were dark. The glass screens on their fronts were shattered, and the interiors were filled with dry, black dust. But the third pod was different.

Loki asks and I nod, pulling the hoodie stings with my one hand. “These are fine,” I smile softly. “Thank you.” Loki nods and Kane looks at Finn, “We will open the boulder just a little to make sure the coast is clear and then we will go. Mia, we are still on River packs lands, so we need to move quickly.” I nod as we walk back to the staircase, slowly climbing until we reach the top. Light bleeds in as the boulder moves and Finn steps outside, to look around, “It’s clear, Alpha,” he whispers, and Loki and Kane push the boulder all the way back.

What am I supposed to do now? ****** LMCD22

Once they are here, I turn to my fellow assistant headmistress. "Amaya," I say. "Yes Headmaster Noah," Amaya says, stepping forth. "Are the pods ready?" Dressed in a white shirt and black skirt and with long blond hair tied into a single ponytail, assistant headmistress Amaya brings up her own holo-display. She checks the screen before answering me. "Yes, they are," Amaya answers. "All pods are functional and are ready." "Excellent, Please bring them up." "Of course." With the push of a holographic button, Amaya activates the pods. One by one, tall, metal pods shoot out from the hull's metal floor. As they shoot out, they unleash a little bit of smoke before the glass doors swing open.

Pods. Sleek cylinders, a dozen in a line, two dozen, more—a forest of glass and metal. Some stood dark, occupant inert. Others flickered with low light, displaying vitals. A few—too few—showed movement: hands pressing weakly against transparent barriers, faces turned toward the sudden sound. A woman in the nearest pod lifted her head. Eyes unfocused. Collar is just visible under the interface clamps. “Please,” she mouthed. No sound. Tubes, dampers, too many wires.

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