Zero With A Line Through It Novels & Stories

"Is it the Absolute Zeros again? A remnant of their sabotage?" ​"No," Thomas whispered, his fingers flying across the haptic interface. "The Zeros wanted to erase the record. This... this thing is trying to Overprint it. It’s adding a layer of data that shouldn't be there. If I isolate the signal and translate it back into the Vance Logic..." ​He hit a final key. The speakers in the Scriptorium let out a low, distorted growl, then settled into a rhythmic, mechanical clicking. It sounded like a high-speed telegraph, but the cadence was human. It was a heartbeat translated into binary.

WRONG NUMBER “Shit!” Arielle Lawson cursed under her breath as her bag slipped off the bar counter, spilling its entire contents across the floor for the uninterested crowd of Midnight Halo Lounge, Manhattan to see. She stared at the mess absentmindedly through her increasingly blurry vision, wondering how she was supposed to gather whatever remained of her dignity. A part of her knew that if she stood up too quickly, she’d land face-first on the cold, filthy tiled floor. Her legs were already betraying her, softened by whisky and regret.

Attached is a tag with three engraved words: FOR SUBJECT ZERO

He is a man reading a map where the names have been erased, the roads still present but leading nowhere he can identify. He reads the line again in the 1987 records, for the third time tonight: The conduit's withdrawal preceded the degradation by eighteen days. The decline initiated not at death but at the point of conscious cessation. He has been rereading this sentence the way you reread a sentence that means something you're not ready to confront yet. Conscious cessation. Not the Vein failing. The Vein being stopped, by someone who knew, in that moment, that it was theirs to stop. He thinks about Veira Ashcroft.

Every student I saw had a huge zero flashing over their heads. My solution had worked. I could concentrate on my studies if the numbers around me remained the same. It didn’t require any problem-solving, they were all just unchanging zeros. However, I was careless, in my exhaustion, I didn’t think that the subtraction wouldn’t stop at zero. Soon the numbers went into the negative. Negative 1, –2, –3s . . . began to appear. Random negative numbers then appeared on top of everyone’s heads, constantly flashing and changing. The subtraction solution had failed.

After the last toss, she writes the number twenty-one next to it, then quickly dashes out a second stack of lines and the number thirty-eight. “What are the lines?” I ask. “Yin and yang. Sixty-four permutations to represent forces of creation. This one,” she says, stabbing a finger at the twenty-one stack, “is called Biting Through.” “What does that mean?” She stirs the pen over the diagram. “Unbroken lines on top and bottom are yangs. Here they represent lips. Broken yin lines inside are like teeth. The yang in the middle is something in mouth you are biting through. It symbolize investigation.”

Washington, DC, United States of America A girl who has a tall stature, a beautifully sculpted nose descends from a new black car. The Ferrari 005, the black car caught the attention of several people who were still passing by on the golf course. The girl who was wrapped in an Adidas sports top looked down at her wrist, then stepped the ladder into the large building in the US.

Tho its a little bit short It's a prologue though,so.... Please comment and vote.

He had drawn something. It was a circle with a line through it—the symbol of the High Code of the Silverfangs. But he had drawn it backward.

What was written on them wasn't medicine names. Numbers. Names. All crossed out. Ink faded to dead brown. 78.3%. 82.1%. 76.9%. 91.4%. The names varied. Some Omega. Some Beta. Some just code, nothing but letters and digits. Every single one struck through. The force of the lines had bitten into the wood, some of the paper punctured clean through. The last sign's ink was still wet. 99.7%. Name: blank. A shiver shuddered through my scent gland.