Part 2 – Interceptor
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)”
Part 1: Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo
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)”
The Problem with Magic Thank you, Mladen and WritertoWriters
There is no such thing as magic.
Real magic is extinct.
I watched it die.
I can’t remember when I saw the last trace of its nurturing light. Odd… Come to think of it, it’s nearly two thousand years. I remember Alexandria. Wait, no. No. That’s not right.
The last time I recall sensing magic was in the Middle Ages. It isn’t a good, nor a very successful one. It’s more of a petty attempt to hide money. The man, in his third decade, speaks the words. A carney. Sloppy and slurred words, no meaning where it should be. He doesn’t know what he says.
Continue reading “The Problem With Magic”
MB: #1 / #3 / #4 / #5 / #6 /
The soft purring of the monitoring alarm on my watch wakes me, by vibrating. I’m up…
I tell the watch and it recognizes my voice. The command kills the alarm.
Sleeping at the med bay is seldom a good idea, and sleeping at a working station – uh, table – is downright irresponsible. I rub my face into some kind of wakefulness and wish I could rub my back into a painless state. Continue reading “med bay snippets #2”
MB: #2 / #3 / #4 / #5 / #6 /
Color code: Captain Edward Wong; Lieutenant Marius Rains; Lt. Anatol Decker; MD Oscar (Oz) Wellington; Dr. Samara Frazer; Crewman* Proto Septimus;
I look at my bandaged hand in the unnatural green light of the exam room. Nasty… That’s what I would say if my mouth would do its job. Lips and tongue are swelling and numb. I try not to be too suspicious by licking them. I bet, if you eat a swarm of angry hornets, it would feel the same. Not the regular ones, but the big, Japanese ones, with a mean attitude.
Continue reading “med bay snippets #1”
This is the first draft for a submission. ’bout 300 words, sci-fi, the spirit of Valentine’s Day should be present. But…well, I dunno. Any thoughts?
1) Test customer
„I’m not made to understand. Natsume. Kun. I’m made to be in love with.“ She giggles with her mellow voice.
„This is true.“ Sweet dialogue design. Five stars. I note on the life review feed. My follower number jumps above 50 k. Nice! I sip my drink. The rich dark scent of warm cocoa floods my palate, texture delightfully creamy. Hot chocolate. Like, no- better heart. Four stars. Her voice hub designer is an artist. Voice hub design: five stars. I bet she could purr me to satisfaction. A very pleasant picture of the Valentine Goddess.
The waitress, dressed as a maiden, brings us a piece of strawberry velvet cake, made to look like a cartoon heart. „I’m sorry to have kept you. The love special, for our lovers. Best wishes from the staff at Valentine Goddess Maiden Cafe Ueno.“ She chirps heartwarmingly and bows. They should cut the adds. After all, this is just a Cafe with companion androids.
„This is my favorite! How did you know?“ My Valentine Goddess asks with astonishment. Her surprise is programmed with brows shooting up, bright flashy smile, wet glistening in her dark blue eyes. Facial expressions pretty basic, a bit overdone. They call this high facial expression mode.
„It’s my favorite too.“ I beam at her. She gasps.
„No way! This is fate! We are made for each other!“ A bit pathetic, but men will go crazy. It’d be charming if she could eat though… I look at the display of my mobile. Fifteen minutes left with my Valentine Goddess.
At the base of my iView screen in my glasses, my bank account shows a fat plus of 70 000 Yen. Not bad for ten minutes work.
“Rise and shine, honey.” Urs says, eye locked on the road. One hand on the wheel, the other gently patting the leather jacket Red uses as blanket. He yawns and lets in some fresh air. She stretches in the passenger seat, and throws a brief look behind them. On the back seat, Cornelius is sprawled out, softly breathing in the rhythm of a sleepwalking horse.
They are nearly over the mountains by now, the rain has stopped. The engine hums, as if was a part of the nature on the other side of the windshield. Bright yellow glows at the edge of the grey clouds. The sun is breaking through. Continue reading “Roadtrip”
Money is one sinister god I used to pray to
Me, the kid with the broken heart and faulty hue
Struck by the currency of freedom and power,
It’s not my conscience, but my hands I scour Continue reading “Money and Media”
I stood in the long, long line for the single opened cashier’s desk.
The monotone ‘beep’ of the scanned items pulsated through the air, sticky with the scent of mushy tomatoes and overripe pineapples.
I had a loaf of bread and a jug of orange juice wedged under each of my armpits. In one hand, I balanced a box with six eggs, with the other I tried to hold unto my keys and the slippery bottle of olive oil. Continue reading “no name # 1”
a chuck wending Friday flash fiction challenge (X) – a 100-word story- okay, it’s less…
Today, some idiot calls me a saucy twelve-year-old bitch. The name’s Vespa. No one calls me that!
I may not look like it, but I’m far older than you may suspect. Luckily, I don’t need more than twelve seconds to cast a nasty spell…
Don’t be surprised, if you meet a five feet tall rat in Central Park. Please don’t call him Splinter…