u/slimebeastly

Welcome to Nebulock Escape Vessel Recovery Services.

Congratulations!

You've joined the most senior and most well-respected deep space retrieval organization in operation!

Every single escape pod we've recovered represents a life that was once considered lost. We're not just in the business of recovering vessels. We bring loved ones home.

This pamphlet is intended to explain operational conduct aboard all NEVRS recovery ships. Read every section thoroughly. Your continued employment (and health) depend upon adherence to company procedure. Remember! For an escape pod to require rescue, there must have first been a disaster. Every mission begins with presumed threats to safety already in place.

NEBULOCK ESCAPE VESSEL RECOVERY SERVICES

FIELD HANDOUT

Revision 12.8.4

Employee Eyes Only - Destroy This Document If You Are Not The Intended Recipient

SECTION 1

GENERAL SAFETY

1.1 Personal Conduct

• Maintain awareness of your surroundings at all times. Personal entertainment devices are prohibited while on duty.
• Never assume atmosphere is breathable, even if you witness living things comfortably breathing it.
• Tread carefully when travelling landscapes on foot. This is not restricted to planetary surfaces and includes any cosmic body, such as asteroids. In space, something as simple as a twisted ankle can result in mission failure.
• Keep your emergency locator beacon attached to your person at all times while deployed on a recovery mission, both on duty and off. "At all times" means at ALL times.
• Ship temperatures are standardized for safety, not personal comfort. Do not alter these settings!
• Report unusual sights, sounds, or smells to a superior immediately, even if they are pleasant in nature.

1.2 Shipboard Hazards

• Verify pressure integrity before opening any compartment. This is not limited to air locks. An unexpected hull breach can turn the door to any room into a doorway to disaster.
• Do not take artificial gravity for granted. Make sure tools, accessories, and personal items are secure at all times.
• Call out to any potential employees above or below you before making use of a ladder. Climb or ascend properly. Temp Addendum: DO NOT SLIDE DOWN LADDERS. Temp Addendum: THIS HAS BEEN A CONSTANT ISSUE CAUSING MULTIPLE INJURIES. STOP SLIDING DOWN LADDERS.
• Avoid standing beneath suspended cargo, such as retrieved vessels. Magnetic clamps are not infallible.
• Do not bring loose objects into ship compartments with moving parts. Ever.

1.3 Hazardous Exposure

• Pay attention to posted shielding indicators. Please note that not every ship section is shielded against every sort of external hazard. If you're not sure if you're safe, proceed to the central protection space. (For the sake of clarity, employees may colloquially refer to this area as "The Coconut". Do not refer to this space as "The Coconut".)
• Ensure duty rotation is observed when a retrieval mission involves advanced levels of radioactivity.
• Replace damaged tools, accessories, and wearables immediately. Safely cease active procedures if a replacement is necessary. Remember: If it's rusted, it can't be trusted!
• Do not competitively compare any hazardous exposure with other employees. Winning a bet now may result in an excruciating demise later.

1.4 Emergency Response

• Memorize all fire safety locations and familiarize yourself with extinguishing devices. Remember that fire takes unusual forms in anti-gravity.
• Lock down areas BEFORE an impending breach. The vacuum of space is unforgiving and instant. You won't have the opportunity to do so afterward.
• Assist imperiled co-workers only when rescue will not increase the likelihood of additional casualties.
• Avoid improvising. You are NOT smarter than the thousands of dedicated personnel who came before you.

"My first Captain used to say even the smallest safety regulation was just as important as any other. I figured that was corporate jargon, until I lost track of an unsecured drill during a free-floating retrieval. Nothing came of it immediately, but the magnetic clamps inside the ship slowly brought the drill back, and it struck a communication relay. No one could talk to their family until we got back to Earth. I wasn't very popular for a while."

~ B.G. Wells, Advanced Retrieval Expert

SECTION 2

EQUIPMENT USE

2.1 Recovery Grapple

• Inspect your recovery grapple's magnetic clamps before every use.
• Confirm the targeted escape pod's mass prior to retrieval and ensure settings appropriately reflect this data.
• If an escape pod is too large for your ship's retrieval bay, retrieve the occupant only. Do not "tow" retrieved pods. You cannot re-enter Earth's atmosphere in this manner.
• Do not use the recovery grapple for any purpose other than escape pod retrieval. If something is in the ship's path, go around it. You have infinite directions to choose from.
• Operating the recovery grapple is not as simple as or similar to "playing a crane game". Do not touch recovery grapple controls unless authorized.
• Never ride the recovery grapple.

2.2 Breaching Equipment

• Clean dust/debris from pod before contact. Use your ship's cleansing processors, do not directly apply water or flame. You don't know how cosmic matter will react.
• Ensure that the recovered escape pod is properly secured to prevent shifting/rolling while breach is in progress.
• Confirm pressure inside escape pod matches pressure outside of escape pod before opening. A rescue won't amount to much if the subject dies from the bends moments later.
• If cutting is necessary, ensure that the vessel's occupant is located on the opposite side of the pod. Cut slowly and carefully. Take your time, they've waited this long.

2.3 Recovery Drone Usage

• Launch drones only for the purpose of recovering necessary data.
• Ensure drones are fully charged before use. Don't be the one who ends up making your team recover a recovery drone.
• Drones may be used to move escape pods into proper position, but only during free-floating retrievals. They are not to be used for this purpose when gravity is in effect.
• If a drone appears to transmit incorrect data, recalibrate ALL drones. The one that seems to be giving the wrong readouts may actually be the only one properly calibrated.
• Recovery drones do not experience emotion and can neither plot against nor fall in love with you. If you have any questions regarding this issue, please contact a company-authorized therapist immediately.
• Keep recovery drones away from magnetic clamps at all times.

2.4 Environmental Scanning

• Calibrate environmental scanners before scanning, then recalibrate scanners and scan again. The vast majority of mission failures arise from unexpected environmental dangers on uncharted planetary surfaces!
• If scans are inefficient or incomplete for any reason, such as environmental interferences, do not proceed until a valid scan is successful.
• Do not ignore measurements that seem "impossible". You have no idea what's possible.
• Escape pods that are fully buried or submerged, regardless of enveloping matter, are to be considered irretrievable. In these cases, retrieve occupant only.

2.5 Personal Protective Equipment

• Inspect wearable items before every use. Do not make use of any wearable items showing ANY signs of wear. Temp Addendum: "Wear" as in previously worn-out, not "wear" as in worn previously. Temp Addendum: "Wear" means damage.
• Visors must be completely clear of debris and/or scratches. 100% visibility is required for use. Custom tinting is not permitted.
• Carry at least one full spare canister of oxygen regardless of estimated mission duration. That "quick job" can immediately become an hours-long endeavor, simply over one or two twisted ankles.
• Never remove gloves to improve dexterity while outside of your ship.

"We once recovered a pod with absolutely perfect sensor readings. Temperature normal. Pressure normal. Life signs normal. The recovery drones said there was a sort of subspace anomaly around the pod, folding in on itself over and over again, quicker than the human eye could perceive. Our captain had very specific beliefs about the universe, so he figured that was impossible. That anomaly ripped our grapple off like a band-aid and chewed it up in seconds. We had to mark the pod as irretrievable."

~ Rollins Rollins, Equipment Technician

SECTION 3

EMPLOYEE MORALE

3.1 Crew Interaction

• Practice a high standard of mutual respect and understanding at all times. Adhere to chain of command.
• Learn every crewmember's handle. Their handle may not be their legal name. Nebulock encourages all employees to choose a corporate-approved and internally registered handle of their preference to keep things fun.
• Resolve any and all interpersonal disagreements before the next scheduled sleep cycle. It is the responsibility of all personnel to assist in healthy communication and conflict resolution when necessary.
• Rotate meal seating periodically to discourage the formation of "in" and "out" groups.
• Respect personal space, quiet periods, and the property of others.

3.2 Psychological Health

• Contact family and friends through approved communication channels when available. Stay in touch with Nebulock, as well! We're always here for any comments or concerns.
• Distinguish internal stress from external agitation. Is someone asking too much of you, or are you harboring resentment due to unstated exhaustion?
• Adhere to required evaluations with openness and honesty. If you cannot carry out a task to the best of your ability, express this fact sooner rather than too late.
• Participate in scheduled team-building exercises and other such group activities. You may not the best in the game, but just being there is a massive help to others.
• Do not read, listen to, or collect log files from ship debris and/or abandoned stations. They're empty for a reason. Leave the last thoughts and fears of doomed travelers to experienced professionals.
• Report recurring nightmares immediately.
• Celebrate successfully completed recoveries!

"Around two weeks on, one guy starts hearing things that aren't there. Nothing real crazy, just stuff like knocking pipes and door hydraulics. Says he's fine, no big deal, whatever. Then one night, I go into comms and he says he just called his wife. Only problem is, she's been dead for like five years. Me and some guys get him out of there, settle him down, get him restrained for the duration. Turned out he got remarried and that was who he was talking to. We should've been more, uh, communicational. I guess."

~ Spot Adno, Labor Specialist

SECTION 4

UNANTICIPATED OCCUPANTS

4.1 Unhumanoids

• When in range, initiate and maintain communication with escape pod occupant. This will both reassure human survivors that help is on the way, as well as help to spot any irregularities in the speech or behavior.
• Visual recognition of "a human" is not sufficient. Pay close attention to biological scans before retrieving and opening a recovered vessel.
• There is a distinct difference between extreme human emotion due to stress and behavioral inaccuracy due to mimicry. In fact, a sense of eerie calm can often be more of a warning sign than "insane" behavior. Survivors who spend a lengthy duration of time in an escape pod may experience Post-Terrestrial Claustrophobic Disorder, or "The Space Willies".
• Do not quiz occupants by asking about current events, such as who the sitting Czar of Earth Colonies is. Occasionally, temporal displacement may cause false positives when it comes to this line of questioning. Focus on organic responses and tonal shifts.
• If an occupant looks or sounds identical to you, a co-worker, or someone you know that cannot possibly be present, cease rescue processes immediately.
• If an unhumanoid occupant is released into your ship, proceed to central protection space. Locate emergency unhumanoid packet, distribute syringes, follow instructions on back of packet.
• No one working for Nebulock is an unhumanoid, so there's no reason to be concerned about that at all.

4.2 Infectious Organisms

• Presume every pod contains unknown microorganisms, and do not risk exposure until your ship's automated cleansing processors complete their task.
• All recovered survivors are to be quarantined as part of common practice, however, ensure camera and sensor feeds are monitored by an employee for the duration of your ship's return.
• Report any observed abnormalities, no matter how small. This can include things such as itching, nausea, or not blinking.
• Remember! Advanced viral and bacterial colonies may be able to live outside of a host for hours, or even days. If the subject of rescue appears to be a silhouette and nothing more, they may be a hive of hyper-intelligent microbiological beings.
• Release of an infectious organism onboard your ship will result in on-vessel quarantine.

4.3 Temporally Displaced Individuals

• On occasion, occupants may originate from past, future, or even inconsistent timelines. This is not their fault, and if procedures are followed correctly, there is little to no danger involved.
• Cautiously verify common historical events with recovered survivors and probe for details as to what they last remember happening in universal news. Be sure to keep a casual tone so as to not prematurely alert the subject to their potential temporal displacement.
• If a survivor reveals they are from a future timeline, do not discuss upcoming events in detail so as to not affect the flow of time itself. We have people for that.
• Survivors who appear to be from a time period before the invention of space travel are likely to be unhumanoids. Please refer to section 4.1 if this is the case.

4.4 Cognitive Manipulators

• Like a microorganism, sometimes an idea or concept itself can cause detrimental effects on those who come into contact with it.
• Ensure that any communication with the survivor being rescued is coming through proper transmissions and not directly into your mind.
• If a co-worker appears to suddenly lose their sanity while speaking with the occupant of an escape pod, cease communication. Do not simply place another employee on the line to also go insane.
• When dealing with a Cognitive Manipulator, be sure to follow sensor readings and star charts. If they look incorrect to you, that is likely the due to an outside influence attempting to make you turn off your ship's oxygen or to guide you into a sun.

4.5 Mechanical Dangers

• Some escape pods contain autonomous defense systems intended to repel harmful creatures and unauthorized salvagers. Be sure that these systems are remotely disabled before closing distance with an escape pod.
• Never assume dormant machinery is nonfunctional. If it looks like a threat in operation, treat it as such even if it seems to be inoperable.
• Every escape pod has an onboard system for environmental regulation and other such life-preserving tasks. On occasion, these programs may be corrupted either by accident or through malice. It is important to ensure these systems are not permitted to uplink with your ship's computer.
• Tell the survivor being rescued to stand away from walls and to empty their pockets before deploying magnetic clamps onto the pod.
• If interior dimensions exceed exterior dimensions, this is not a mechanical issue and is likely a Memetic Manipulator. Refer to section 4.4 if this is the case.

4.6 Uncategorized Entities

• Some hazards remain as-of-yet unresearched and are, thusly, uncategorized. Stay on your toes and keep in mind what is normal and what is abnormal!
• Pitch darkness inside an escape pod is a clear sign of danger. This is often coupled with nonverbal vocalizations such as laughter or screaming. In these cases, the vessel should not be unsealed under any circumstances.
• Occupants taking up 100% pod capacity are likely not simply "big-boned", but are more likely anomalous in nature.
• Any transmissions made by an escape pod that appears empty on scans should not be answered.
• There is no "Harold Hodge" and he is not owner of the "Hodge Podge Motor Lodge". If, at any point, you find yourself attempting rescue of the survivor known as "Harold Hodge", cease processes immediately and begin full decontamination procedures for ship and crew.

"People always ask what the worst thing we ever found in a pod was. They expect monstrous mutations, alien egg sacks, stuff like that. The worst thing for me was a man who spent two years in a pod. When we finally made contact, he spoke to us like he was on a phone call with a friend he hadn't talked to in ages. Come to find out, he had the worst case of Space Willies I'd ever witnessed. He had lived an entire life, decades of time, in his mind. His home, his work, every location he went to, suspiciously round and escape pod shaped. He had a wife that didn't exist. Kids that super didn't exist. A terrier who died, and a golden retriever who replaced him. What's so disturbing to me is that we took all of that away. Poof, a whole life gone with the pop of an escape pod door. Going back to a lost job, a foreclosed home, and a recently deceased mother on an Earth that moved on without him. Sorry if you didn't want to hear about this."

~ Porky Meller, Medical Tactician

LEGAL NOTICE

Nebulock Escape Vessel Recovery Services (NEVRS) accepts no responsibility for employee injury, dismemberment, duplication, inversion, dispersal, replacement, assimilation, compression, erasure, non-fatal death, fatal non-death, death, resurrection, immortality, or transfer of consciousness.

By continuing employment after receiving this pamphlet, you acknowledge that deep space vessel recovery involves hazards that may exceed conventional insurance coverage.

Employees who become missing, unrecoverable, inaccessible, or purely hypothetical will be sought by a NEVRS retrieval unit thirty (30) Earth days and no further.

Failure abide to by company guidelines may result in disciplinary action, including but not limited to formal reprimand, reduction in benefits where applicable, or termination of employment effective immediately. "Immediately" may refer to before, during, or after the incident in question, should anomalous time flow be involved.

Thank you for joining Nebulock Escape Vessel Recovery Services team.

We appreciate your continued service.

His "In Memoriam" photo looked much less mutilated than how I chose to remember him.

ok so this is REAL and it happened to me and my cousin jared who is 19 and very smart with computers (he got expelled for hacking but it totally wasnt his fault)

It started when my mom bought a USED laptop from a garage sale because it was marked with a piece of tape and black marker writing that said “barely haunted” which should have been a bit of a red flag but whatever. The laptop was named DELLL with an extra L but my mom told me it “the extra L must stand for LUCK”.

when you turned it on it made a noise like a sigh, not the normal boot sound but like someone tired of being alive and bored with existing in this fucked up world

Anyway! 1 night at 3:12 AM (it was a scary time still even if it was 12 minutes after the hour) I was trying to download free music very legally from a legal resource and a website popped up.

the website address of the website was www dot captcha dot you and it said…

PLEASE PROVE YOU ARE HUMAN

It was a normal antibot test but the pictures were wrong. Instead of bridges or motorcycles it said…

“select all images that scare you”

there were 9 blurry pictures and some of them looked like my IRL house that i live inside of but from angles that shouldn’t be possible, like the images were reversed with the doors and windows photoshopped to the wrong sode. One picture was just my face looking real dumb and drooling but I was sure i never made that face!

I clicked none of them because I was honestly very mad.

The captcha failed and it said:

YOU MUST TRY AGAIN LATER

After that my laptop started autonomously typing on its very own even though my hands were folded on the desk like a good boy I swear.

It self-typed:

“don’t worry you’re going to make that face soon”

I slammed the screen and keyboard shut together and went to bed… but I couldnt sleep! Because I kept hearing the windows notification sound in the dark room around me.

Like… Ding…! Ding…! Ding…! It was suspiciously perfect in sound.

The next week my cousin jared came over and I told him everything and he laughed and said “my n-word its probably malware” but he said the actual word and i was honestly really, really shocked. i never thought jared was racist but there it is

besides the bigotry, jared’s response made me feel dumb because i had never even considered all of this ghostly madness was simply a malicious bit of code.

That was… until his phone BUZZED and he went pale like a slice of plain cheesecake.

His phone notification just said:

YOU WILL BE CAPTCHA’D

He never did anything that had needed a captcha so this made zero sense

That night we turned the laptop back on to delete everything and reinstall the windows operating system. but when we walked into my room the screen was already on. It showed yet another fuckin’ captcha but it wasnt squares of images… it was WORDS!

– breathing
– blinking
– bleeding
– rotting

At the bottom it said SELECT ALL THAT APPLY

Jared jokingly clicked breathing and blinking as we both laughed at the ludicrousness of the stupid captcha! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Then the laptop froze for a second and then the cursor moved by itself and checked the other two options (bleeding and rotting) too.

Jared screamed “wait dont!” and then he stopped moving.

Like this dude did not even move a micro-inch. He was just staring without blinking and I could tell that he wasn’t breathing in the LEAST.

I ran to get my mom from the detached garage but when I came back with her Jared was gone and the laptop screen just said:

THANK YOU FOR ENTERING THE SITE

I was so confused i just stood there looking dumb and drooling in utter unbelief.

Alright, so the only creepy part is this… Ever since then… websites don’t ask me if I’m human anymore… They just turn me away and refuse service. No captcha. No pictures. No motorcycles. No bridges. No busses. No traffic lights. nothing.

And! Sometimes when I’m tired… I swear I can hear the DELLL laptop sighing from its drawer, but this time it’s like it’s relieved.

Like a fat man who got fed.

Like I’m the one who fed the fat man without even knowing what he ordered.

If this type of silly captcha shows up online, and you read it, and the images appear blurry for a second… well that’s normal dont worry about it.

Just keep reading though.

ALSO if a website ever asks you to select all images that that scare you, pick carefully.

It might just save your cousin Jared

 

THE END

He came back to us in tears, smiling ear to ear, exclaiming that it was an angel.

https://preview.redd.it/6s9hqs8t60gh1.jpg?width=1920&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5c5e98ab18b924e87c7c00688dd28fccf91e246b

There are a lot of clichéd "traditions" that I don't think anyone has actually participated in for about hundred years or so.

Wishing on a star, for example. A shooting star, maybe... but just an average, normal star that's there every night? Never seen someone do that.

Tying a string around your finger to remind you of something. Might've been helpful to someone at some point in history, but it's more likely they just wrote it down.

I've never seen a pie on a windowsill, haven't witnessed anyone shaking a present to hear what's inside instead of just opening it, and I've never met a single person known to sleep in a night cap.

Speaking of sleep, that's the point I was getting to.

Counting sheep doesn't work. I actually tried it, probably for the first time since the automobile was invented. It was during a stop at some random, run-down, roadside motel in the middle of a family trip to visit relatives in another state.

The squat, brown building stretched back into a span of woods, with the motel office at the front, near the road. As my family drove across the cracked and weed-riddled pavement, toward our room, it felt like we were driving down a nature trail instead of a parking lot.

A line of short, ranch-style wooden fencing was all that separated the motel property from wild, overgrown brush. Looking up at the massive pine trees, backlit by the light of a nearly full moon, I felt a certain sense of dead that stripped away any thought of the fun and excitement that waited at our destination.

The room was nothing special, of course. Just like the rest of the place, it was outdated with peeling paint and lights that flickered almost as much as the vacancy sign out front. There were two beds - one for mom, and one for me to awkwardly share with dad since I was still small enough.

The air conditioning unit attached to the window hummed like a lawnmower, leaving us with the choice of trying to be comfortable in a small, poorly-ventilated room that smelled like every guest who had stayed there... or covering our ears with pillows throughout the night.

We opted for the latter.

Before bed that night, I sat out on the grungy sidewalk for a while, next to an ice machine that wasn't plugged in, and watching the motel sign buzz and flick. I imagined that it was a giant bug zapper, and pictured giant mosquitos swarming from the blackness above, swooping down toward me, only to be drawn in by the sporadic light. Each series of electrical snaps was another monster-squito getting zapped.

I was so lost in imagination that, when I saw something rustle a sticker bush just beyond the motel's fence, I wasn't sure if it was real or just my tired mind playing tricks.

"Bed time, Goober. Big drive tomorrow." Dad called called out from behind the cracked door of the motel room.

I couldn't sleep.

In fact, I had probably done more than enough sleeping during the car ride.

I must've rolled over and thrown the blanket around enough to wake dad, who could usually drop into a comatose state at will. I turned at one point to barely see him staring me down, eye-to-eye, beneath a thin strip of moonlight that was cutting in through the yellowed blinds.

I nearly screamed in surprise.

"Go to sleep," he whispered sternly, expression flat, "Stop messing around."

"I'm not tired." I explained with a huff.

"Then count sheep." he replied, before rolling over. The sight of his bald spot was a lot less frightening than the cold glare.

Sure.

A phrase we've all heard a thousand times, though none among you can pinpoint where you first learned about it... unless it's from this post, I guess.

The idea of imagining a single-file line of courteous little sheep, jumping over a fence one by one as you count along. Maybe you'd even picture a number emblazoned onto the side of each passing one.

So, I did as I was told. Lying back on the bed, half a blanket up to my chin and my ears buried deep in the down of a lightly washed pillow, I closed my eyes tight and pictured a farmer's pasture.

Green grass, rolling hills, not a tree in sight - just open sky that cleanly met with the horizon.

In the middle of it all, a single section of fence that stood alone and was attached to nothing.

One sheep.

Two sheep.

Three sheep.

White wool, bright eyes, waggling tails. More cartoony than authentic, really. Each with a number on their side, and each easily clearing the fence's height with a single leap.

Four, five, six...

I was nowhere near drowsy, but I figured that if I forced myself to do this - sort of like holding your breath to stop hiccups - it would eventually work. After all, why would people claim it helped if it actually didn't?

All at once, the drone of the A/C unit drifted away into nothingness. Pure silence. I could feel my eyes rolling back in my head, though the image I was seeing in my mind's eye remained the same.

The line between awake and asleep, reality and a dream, disappeared like chalk washed from a sidewalk. I, myself, questioned out loud if this was actually happening.

It was no longer daytime in the pasture. A dark blue sky faded down into a ring of purple that surrounded the world in all directions. No moon, no stars, and no clouds to hide them.

I stood on the olive-colored, wet grass and stared forward, toward the single span of fence that stood alone in the field.

Beyond the fence, kept there by nothing but their own preference, was a tremendous flock of sheep. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Just a carpet of dirty, dusty wool and mindless, staring eyes that shone eerily in the dim evening though nothing existed to light them.

One sheep broke from the group, trotted toward the fence, and jumped over.

Then another... and another.

I wasn't counting anymore, instead finding myself frozen - fixed to the spot. The realness of this night-time hallucination struck me with more dread than anything else. I could smell the grass, feel the moisture in the air on my skin.

Another... and another... and another... each hopping the plain wooden fence, ranch style, and landing with a soft thud on the other side. My side. After each one arrived over the fence, it trotted off in a random direction. I didn't watch where they went, my eyes locked on the fence itself and each animal leaping in succession.

My unblinking stare only changed slightly when I noticed a strange shape in the flock.

A sheep - exactly one, single sheep - stood above the others, easily twice as tall. As soon as I noticed the strange figure, it seemed to know it had been spotted. Instead of ducking down or running away, however, it simply approached the fence.

Pushing through the flock rather roughly, the figure slowly and awkwardly reached the front of the group.

It was a man.

At least I prefer to think it was.

A man dressed in an old-timey, soiled sheep costume. The kind of outfit straight from a black-and-white photo from a Halloween that took place over a century in the past.

The full-body costume was covered in raggedy wool, with black gloves and boots simulating hooves in color only. The wool was aged, yellowed, peeling off in places and hanging by a thread in others.

The worst part, however, was the mask.

It was malformed, uncanny, mimicking the face of a sheep, but sculpted by someone who hadn't referenced one in person. Like a human model was used, but the features were elongated and warped in ways that represented an artist's best guess.

The eyes...

The eyes set behind the pair of holes in that mask were more convincingly than any part of the costume.

They were definitely the eyes of a sheep. Horizontal, pitch-black slits on orangish spheres.

Slowly, methodically, the sheep-man threw one leg over the fence, never breaking eye contact as it did so. Then, the other leg swept over. He sat on the fence for only a moment before dropping to his feet.

The previous sheep had run off - each on a different path.

This one, however, the sheep-man, simply walked in a straight line toward me.

On his chest, burned into the wool with what I assume to be a branding iron, was sideways number eight. I had no idea what the significance of that symbol was at that young age.

Darkness crept in at the corners of my vision, slowly, just as slowly as the thing approached, a black tunnel of sight formed with myself at one end, and the sheep-man at the other. As he closed distance, the world faded into an empty void behind him.

I could hear a voice, just then... a whispering, half-human, ancient voice that vibrated in the back of my head.

Ten...

Nine...

Eight...

A countdown.

Finding the will to move my limbs in this dream state, I covered my eyes only to find I saw through them as clearly as glass. I tried to run, but could feel that the earth, the mud, had long since swallowed my feet up to the ankles.

Five...

Four...

I tried to scream, but nothing came out beyond a strange, choked murmur at the back of my throat.

Two...

One...

Zero.

I fell from the bed.

On the way over the side, I cracked my head against the motel night stand, sending a clock radio to the floor alongside me.

"Holy shit!" my mom shouted. I'd never heard her curse before, and in the haze of sleep and a throbbing headache, it felt just as unreal as anything I had experienced that night.

She quickly clicked a lamp on and rushed around both beds, to my side.

Dad was snoring away, still rolled over and facing away.

The wound on my head stung, but not a lot. There was blood, but not much. Though mom worried and fussed over me for the duration of the night, it clearly wasn't worth a trip to the hospital. Instead, I got to sit with cold, wet washcloths pressed to my skull for hours on end.

I don't want to think about all the places those washcloths had been.

The night dragged on, but mom and I couldn't sleep. Dad had always been an early riser, something that stuck with him from the military, so when he awoke to find us already awake and sitting up, he as thrilled.

"Looks like an early start!" he noted, after checking the mark on my head just to make sure.

When we walked out to the car, it was still dark out.

I looked to the ranch style fence that lined the parking lot, to the spot where I had definitely heard rustling the previous evening.

My blood ran cold as I stared out into the brush, and all at once I felt frozen in place, again.

Then, dad swept me up and all but threw me in the car, pretending I was a piece of luggage the entire time. I admit I laughed.

When we were checked out and all seated in the car, ready to get back to the road, I gave the motel sign one last look as its neon tubes flickered and buzzed.

I watched as a dark silhouette flew in from the night.

Very large. Fast-moving.

Dad slammed on the brake and mom shrieked as the first titanic mosquito crashed into the sign with a hail of sparks and fire.

Every marriage reaches a point where one partner looks at the other and thinks the same thing.

"You are NOT the person I married."

Often, this is because someone forgot an anniversary, gained a little weight, or suddenly developed strong political opinions after listening to a few episodes of a popular podcast.

Occasionally, however, it may be because your spouse disappeared into the woods three weeks ago, and returned with a strange gait, differently-shaped pupils, and what look to be a pair of antlers.

Listen.

Relationships are always complicated.

Modern society demands a lot from us. Careers change! Our bodies age! Interests suddenly no longer interest us! Then, every once in a while, an unknowable eldritch entity from somewhere beyond human understanding slips into the emptied husk of a loved one and tries its best to fake thirty-eight years of marital familiarity.

The important thing to remember is this: Don't get upset!

The internet would have you believe that every single cryptozoological event is some existential catastrophe, and that the one experiencing it simply must show obvious signs of dread and horror. Rules like that cannot and should not be applied arbitrarily to every given case of unanticipated replacement.

Experienced relationship counselors will tell you that healthy marriages aren't built on perfection. They're built on communication and compromise. Somewhere in the recipe for a successful marriage, you'll find a healthy serving of resisting the urge to scream every time you gaze upon the uncanny visage of your once familiar husband or wife.

Personally speaking, I was reminded of these points during a counseling session with a new husband we'll call "Daniel". Upon his arrival to my office, he was entirely convinced that his marriage of only two years was over!

All of this drama, simply because he'd come home from work to discover his wife silently crawling across the living room ceiling, methodically weaving thin strands of jet black webbing into the corners above.

When his wife, we'll call her "Evelyn", noticed him, she smiled warmly, climbed down head-first, and asked how work had been as though nothing were unusual.

Daniel's first instinct was to call 911 and flee the family home in a panic.

Instead, he collected his wits and contacted me, a Cryptotherapeutic Specialist. We talked through what he was actually experiencing and helped him figure out exactly what was going on in his mind and in his heart.

Was she still affectionate?

Yes.

Did she remember specific details of their shared history together?

Surprisingly, yes.

Was the webbing causing structural damage or presenting any danger to children or pets?

Not at all, no.

Over the following months, Daniel and Evelyn established a few simple household guidelines. She would keep her nesting to the attic and garage, and he would stop referring to her as "Spiderlyn" both in front of guests and in private.

When last I heard, they were doing remarkably well together, and were even expecting the arrival of some sort of "brood".

A successful marriage isn't about pretending nothing has changed. It's about figuring out how to adapt to these inevitable changes.

That brings us to the main focus of this article!

If you've begun to suspect that your significant other has been replaced by a doppelganger, skinwalker, changeling, or any other similar sort of mimic, consider the following steps before making any irreversible decisions.

1.) Presume positive intent. Don't immediately accuse your spouse of being an "evil twin". Many relationships experience identity drift, and not every uncanny or unexpected behavior is evidence of nefarious motives!

2.) Try reconnecting through familiar rituals. Cook your favorite meals together. Revisit meaningful places. See if their memories naturally resurface. If not, you're already making new ones!

3.) Practice clear and calm communication. Use "I" statements.

- Right: "I feel a lack of connection when you hide your true appearance."

- Wrong: "You're wearing my wife's skin! You're wearing my wife's skin!!"

4.) Openly discuss any changing needs. For example, "What do you require to feel safe indoors?" or "Is mimicking typical human behavior exhausting for you?"

5.) Respect cultural differences. Not every shapeshifting entity understands sarcasm. Something as simple as a birthday party may confuse or distress them. Figure out where these disparities lie and address them with kindness, understanding, and above all, compromise.

6.) Establish clear domestic boundaries.

- No feeding on visitors.

- No wild animal "friends" in the house.

- No changing appearances in the middle of romantic encounters.

7.) Experiment with couples' meditation. Given that you find yourself in this situation in the first place, it's highly probable that your respective auras overlap in interesting ways, which may lead to vast amounts of self-discovery.

8.) Rebuild trust gradually. It won't be restored overnight. Discovering that your spouse can perfectly imitate a variety of voices, including your own, can be trying when it comes to interpersonal trust. Give it time!

9.) Seek community support. Find others in "supernaturally blended relationships." Contact your local heavily-redacted covert organization. It helps to know you're not alone.

10.) Plan out continuous coexistence. Discuss future expectations honestly. Is this skinwalker also committed to the relationship? Will they be there to assist you after an injury or during an illness? Does it intend to maintain the mortgage payments?

11,) Accept change. Your partner as you knew them no longer exists. That's simply the reality of the situation. Relationships can and will evolve in unexpected ways. Sometimes your wife simply returns to you as an ancient forest being, wearing a semi-convincing approximation of her face. Through mutual respect, honesty, and communication, you will find that who a person used to be matters a lot less than who they will become.

We, as humans, often face a persistent myth that love means finding the perfect person and remaining together forever. Anyone who has been married longer than a few years knows this is far from the case.

Cellulite forms. Hairlines recede. Jaws unhinge to consume an entire Thanksgiving turkey.

Marriage is, at its heart, an agreement to spend every day rediscovering one another.

Maybe the person sleeping beside you is no longer technically biologically human.

Maybe their heartbeat ceased several months ago.

Maybe every family photograph now has a strange, dark blotch where your partner once stood.

These challenges aren't reasons to leave.

They are opportunities for personal growth.

That human-adjacent lifeform wearing a stolen smile most likely genuinely cares for you in its own strange, convoluted way. When it's standing motionless in the back yard at night, It may be reciting your wedding vows. Those strange symbols burned into the walls and floors just might be love letters.

Nobody enters a marriage expecting to navigate the most literal form of identity theft, but every successful relationship requires adaptation.

Meet your partner again.

Set healthy rules.

Celebrate small victories.

Remember!

There would be no "better" without the "worse".

Now that's she's passed, he wags his tail at them.

It was a perfect explanation for someone who fell to Earth covered in feathers, though we still wonder why she was cast out.

The waiter finally came to the table and asked me, "Dining alone, tonight?"

It took a moment to realize his reflection was dead.

I set up a version of the classic game "Dope Wars" wherein you take on the role of a Bricks and Minifigs employee... er, I mean Figs and Minibricks employee... trying to earn as much money as possible buying and selling Lego sets. I want someone, somewhere, to get a chuckle, so here it is. Again.

What worries me now is my paralysis demon was nowhere to be seen until we returned to Earth.

"No refunds!"

I'll always remember his words.

Down on one knee, grinning ear to ear, holding a ring. Even though I had been expecting a proposal, he still managed to blindside me. Boardwalk onlookers gasped, fell silent, then cheered when I said "Yes".

"No refunds!" he laughed out as we embraced.

We met at his store. A struggling kitchen and bathroom supply place just up the road from my apartment. With a stove that refused to heat and a landlord who refused to answer calls, I had little option other than picking up a discount microwave at that shop.

He tried to warn me, in his way, not to take the deal.

"Keep in mind, we don't give refunds on discounted items. If you take the offer, we're not responsible for anything that may occur."

I wasn't in a position to take the advice.

We ran into each other again at a coffee shop. He asked how the microwave was working out, and I told him it was going well for about a week before burning out half-way through a baked potato. He offered to take it home and repair it himself, so we walked back to my place.

When I came back to my apartment the next night, a brand new one was on my doorstep.

The sticky note attached read, "I have come to realize I have no idea how to repair a microwave."

We went out a few times after that. Then several more. Then, the boardwalk. The proposal.

It was a special place, for us. He once spent an absurd amount of money trying to win a stuffed rabbit at one of the booths, a big bunny for his "little bunny". When he finally managed to win, the guy operating the booth handed him a random, poorly-made, oddly-colored stuffed animal. Apparently, we "misread" the prize chart.

I was his "purple walrus" from that point forward.

The wedding was a cozy affair. The honeymoon a frugal trip, just barely out-of-state. I didn't ask for more - I didn't want more. I was happy. Even when work nights would run late, he understood if I had to get to bed before he came home. There was no insistence I be ready and waiting with nothing but dinner and smile.

We never argued, we barely even disagreed. It was easy.

Then, I got the phone call.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hi, is this Mrs. Cabbot?" A young man's voice replied, obviously, and awkwardly, reading from a screen.

"Who's calling?"

"My name is Jason, with Rosevale Insurance. Am I speaking to Mrs. Nora Cabbot?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not interested."

"Ma'am, hold on, please. I just need to clarify some things regarding your policy."

In an instant, every muscle in my body tightened. My blood ran cold, and I forgot to breathe.

Taking a seat and collecting my wits, I ran through the information with Jason. He was very helpful, explaining that Rosevale Insurance (the nation's #12 provider of life insurance, apparently) had partnered with SigNatural in "using AI to instantly compare customer signatures against a collected database to prevent identity theft and forgery".

My application, totalling several hundred thousand dollars, was flagged due to a questionable signature.

Perhaps needless to say, this was the first I was hearing of it.

Still, I helped Jason along, provided information, re-filed the paperwork via fax. Crazy to think fax machines are still in use. Crazier to think they're used for sensitive documents.

Not long after, my beloved husband hired a second person down at the shop. A homeless man he decided to give a chance. It had been a one-man operation due to low sales and rising costs, but finding someone who would work for the lowest possible wages finally gave him time away from the job.

One night... a late night... I heard a knock at the door.

Very unusual.

"Just a moment!" I called out, approaching the door and pressing my eye to the peep hole.

No one there. Just empty hallway.

As I turned away, another knock. Louder, more jarring this time.

No one there.

"If this is a prank, it isn't funny." I remarked.

I waited a moment, fully feeling the anticipation hanging in the air like static electricity.

A third, more violent knock.

I didn't need to look out into the hall, this time.

Instead, I unlocked the door, undid the latch, making sure each click, each drag of metal, was a drawn-out and as noisy as possible.

BAM.

The door flew open as it was kicked in.

Standing in the doorway was a man, dressed in black from head to toe. A hooded sweatshirt covered his head, while a mask - a twisted, grimacing Halloween mask - hid his face.

In his hand, he held a brand new, shiny kitchen knife.

"Sorry," I said flatly, standing several feet away from the door with what must've been a look of sheer apathy on my face, "No refunds."

With that, I pulled the trigger.

Hiding a shotgun, even in a small apartment, isn't very difficult if no one's looking for it.

The masked figure flew backward, into the hall, knife spinning through the air like the blades of a pinwheel. It landed point-down.

I dialed 911, doing my best to sound out-of-breath and positively shaken to the core. Even at this point, I didn't know who I would find under the mask. Was the homeless man down at the shop hired to do this job, too... or was he still at the shop to act as an alibi, insisting my husband was there all night?

When I pulled the cheap plastic mask away with the hot barrel of the gun and saw my husband's pale, motionless, surprised face, I made sure to shriek in horror as loud as possible - straight into the phone.

Oddly enough, after an incredibly thorough investigation, I got that refund.

A full refund, in fact.

It's crazy that they let you file for insurance by fax.

They take up space.