War Time Tours

War Time Tours

“Right behind you!”

That’s all I need.

Alec’s leather suit creaks, as he leans over to shut off the master inhibitory signals on our implants. The log-tunnel lights up. 

Protocol, protocol. My babysitter-in-time is a babysitter-by-the-book; dutifully complicating my plans. He’s the best. He’s the best I can buy. His missions are like good thrillers, never lost anyone – neither in combat, nor on a time trip. Alec is going to be so pissed, when he finds out I switched coordinates.  Continue reading “War Time Tours”

Thorns and Rose

Thorns and Rose

Old age was a curse.

Anyone old enough could relate.

It marked the slow end of abilities, and the beginning of limitations. But this was a world made of limitations, wasn’t it? Old age was an abomination, a fence, an unscalable wall, but only if you ignored your abilities all your life long. Within those boundaries, anyone could roam freely.

My name is Rose, like the flower. My short-lived husband, Carl, loved my bloom, my thorns, my venom.  He called my sense of justice, venom.

Continue reading “Thorns and Rose”

Dead Serious and Not Sorry

Dead Serious and Not Sorry

Published here


The undertaker lied. It wasn’t comfortable at all! His buttocks had gone dead a while ago.

Wait!

That wasn’t how he was going to put it!

He was lying in his coffin – yes – but he was very much alive.

“This is the best you can buy for money, Mr. Jones. Pure silk and lace. Our bestseller! The epitome of comfortableness, elegance and beauty,” the undertaker preached. Not how he imagined it… The forever-box was uncomfortable. On the other hand, no one could ever tell the man, that his coffins were crap.

Continue reading “Dead Serious and Not Sorry”

Electric Shinigami (1)

Electric Shinigami (1)

Part 2 – Interceptor


PART 1:

Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo

F***. I’ll miss you. Oz mumbled around his mouthful of Al-Capone Pizza. He wiped the grease from his mouth with his sleeve. He toasted the city with the rest of the slice in his hand. …Maybe.

He has been on the roof all evening, to watch his last sunset. He let Izanami record all his visual input. Every bit of visual and sensorial memory was important. He was going to be home-sick, he supposed. Everyone was, at least, that was, what they had told him.

Why so serious? Isn’t this what you wanted? Izanami whispered into his ear from his new Uplink implant. He still had to get used to the vision tracking commands, so he wouldn’t zoom in on a passing bottle fly, or falling pigeon poop. If he wanted, he could count the hairs on a mosquito leg, but who would want that? Continue reading “Electric Shinigami (1)”

Electric Shinigami (2)

Electric Shinigami (2)

Part 1: Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo


PART 2

INTERCEPTOR

This April evening darkness came early. It was hardly past 5 pm and Newport City didn’t stand a chance, engulfed by a tidal wave of flickering electric light, mist and a gentle rain.

The big ads on the skyscrapers flared to life, bathing the windows in neon blue, bright green and crimson. The street lights flashed, blinked and faded away, only to restart in less than half a minute.

Oz moved through his empty apartment without making light. Not that he would have needed light ever again… His new prosthetic eyes automatically switched to night vision, showing him his empty apartment as shabby as it felt to him now. Continue reading “Electric Shinigami (2)”

Taxes to Pay

Taxes to Pay

I got my loneliness flat-tax invoice, on a sunny day in July. It was a Wednesday.

Oprah preached from the tube in the kitchen, living room and bedroom simultaneously. I studied the comings and goings down the street, from my third floor balcony. Felix scratched and dug in his litter box. I hoped, he didn’t strike oil. My landlord pulled up, and occupied two parking lots. I was about to point that out to him, but then I noticed the man. Continue reading “Taxes to Pay”

Jinx

Jinx

I’m not superstitious.

It is only the lack of proper information, or some crap to influence other’s decisions. 

Got the lighter ready in my hand, spitting sparks. It starts to snow with big fluffy feather like flakes. My cig is the only hot thing on me now.

Ira wastes my time, again. He’s late. Stressed X-mas shoppers bump into my shoulders, trample on my feet. Not one of them mutters a ‘sorry’. Ugh, so many nauseating songs filter through the shop entrances. It’s my third time round his block, and my toes are ice cubes. I need a hot coffee. Continue reading “Jinx”