The bulk of “Corona” rolled under me. My sweet little rustbucket drifted away from the denser part of the junkyard.
Nothing had “easy money” stencilled on the side, like old-timey electronics that belonged to nobody. All the gold and tantalum just sat there, so lonely. “Keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old,” I sang under my breath. Oldies were the best. Continue reading “Corona (1)”
This humanness is four walls an inch away from what I call nose.
You know the cheesy slogans: Come to Earth, pilot a human. Let your wildest dreams come true. Tourists pay ridiculous amounts for sex. It’s disgusting, really. All these barbaric emotions, I don’t know how humans cope. It’s beyond me.
Thank the Gods for intergalactic sex trafficking regulations and for the treaty condemning abuse and recording of lower life forms. Gives my undercover work legal grounds.
Oz takes the bandages from my new prosthetic hand and sets the new parameters for my fine motor skills. Try. Obediently I clench and unclench my fist. Feels weird. The hand sweeps accidentally to the right, nearly smashing the coffee cup from the table Oz calls office. He gives me painkillers. He forgets I can switch my sensory input off. Probing the feel of it, I do some exercises. The movements are grainy.
Next time I print you a better one. He sighs. Has to suffice for now. The feeling of a doubled limb glitches through my arm and head. Oz calls it phantom limb. You’ll get used to it. I disconnect the sensors, and reconnect. There is no pain at all, just this sensation of a vague hand dragging me across movement. Continue reading “med bay snippet #5”
dangers of underserved power – a chuck wendig prompt
I wave a cheeseburger in front of the animal. The chimpanzee observes carefully. He nods vigorously, showing teeth. His ears flap. Chuck’s the only chimp I know to prefer burgers over bananas, or fruits, or gummy bears. He’s a primate in every way.
Probably I could bribe him with booze and cigarettes too. Nearly a human…
I point at the screen. The pattern is so slow, that even the stoned biology student catches up. Continue reading “space monkey mafia (1)”
Part 3 – Judge, Jury & Executioner
Part 2 – I’m that kind of Guy
Part 1 – Safe Atmosphere
also, trigger warning: murder, death, insanity… the usual darkness, you have been warned
Larry stares over Tycho Crater, arms hanging by his side, like broken wings. “Last murder.” He sighs. Rustling with its feathers, the vast blackness above him stirs. Its many empty eyes blink down at him curiously. He deactivates the jammers – still, the silence of the lunar remoteness echoes through his com.
Cold and loneliness pierce him, like an insect to the ash colored background of an oversized display case. He needs to move. The suit adds weight to his weary limbs. Only the oxygen injectors hiss their reliable song.
Continue reading “Greater Good Protocol (3)”
See? Nothing unusual. The doctor pats me on the shoulder and goes back to the only occupied e-bed. I go through the scans of Decker’s insides, from head to toe for the hundredths time. Brooding over it won’t help. Chalk it up to delirium. Trust me. He turn and flashes a big bright smile. I’m a doctor. Continue reading “med bay snippet #4”
„Today’s the day! The day you’ve been waiting for: ‚LOSE THE KINK OR LOSE THE LIMB‘!“ A pleasant male voice booms through a bright space. Applause and deafening cheers wake Una from her slumber.
Her mouth feels fuzzy.
She doesn’t remember going to bed. Instead, she remembers doing seventy on the interstate ninety-five, just past Trenton. She is on her way to the most important test screening in her carrier. Evening news, here she comes! That job has her name written all over it. Una Hawthorn, the new face on ABWD.
Continue reading “lose the kink or lose the limb”