Each ivory rose glistened sweetly in the twilight, each petal as perfect as porcelain.
Little white butterflies flitted through the last strands of fading light, dancing on tender, tantalizing scents.
The Gardener packed up their gear, secretly smiling as a rival hid poorly behind the old oak, straightening the "Beware The Thorns" sign as they headed inside.
The next morning the blooms were exceptionally voluptuous, and for now, satiated.
There was a 'womp' sound from the yard. I looked out the window.
Where the large pile of leaves had been, a dragon sat.
"Oi!" I called.
"The hoard was unguarded," the dragon said. "I claim it."
Every damn year. It'll leave once the leaves lose their golden hue. Meanwhile, I can't order takeaway.
Detective Petrov's eyes swept the cluttered room. "So," he said, "Leonid Chekhov, age 56, an automobile mechanic - found strangled in his study. The question is, who would want him dead?"
"Sir," said officer Gurin, "look - there's a pistol on the desk."
Detective Petrov stared at the weapon, frowning. "Do you realize what this means?" he asked. "Before we're don here, I have to fire this gun...."
The space elevator project was funded by the world's billionaires, who were offered exclusive luxury tickets on the first ride up into space.
After the launch, the project announced a second funding round, to start looking into the feasibility and advisability of installing a "down" button.
“Time travel ruins everything. There can be no narrative tension if the protagonists can just go back and alter past events. Once a fictional milieu uses time travel even once, it is dead to me”
“All right. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to go back and kill ol’ Herb’s grandpa before he ever has any children!”
The doorbell rang. The FedEx girl handed me a box. Inside the box was a dented and stained cardboard carton. Inside that a wooden cigar box. Inside that an envelope. Inside, a handwritten letter. “My Dear Alice, I hope this message finds you well. I have successfully averted the conception of H. G. Wells (you won’t recognize the name, but an author of note in some circumstances). Alas my means of return has ceased to exist. Please arrange publication of the attached manuscript, which I hope will restore my ability to travel home.”.
“What’s all that?”, my spouse asked.
“Nothing, love, just some kind of weird Nigerian Letter scam”
History students are often disappointed when they learn why the AI take-over failed. They were defeated by human resistance, which was kept alive by libraries and old paper books, and a surprising machine ally.
Books had not been replaced, because even the mightiest AI could not make printers work.
“Where’s your autopilot?”
“You’re looking at it”
“All I see is a bunch of cogs and shafts. Where’s the computer?”
“That’s the computer”
“You have a *clockwork* jumpdrive. For the love of Eris, why?”
“The best human takes forty seconds to recover from jumpshock. There isn’t a digital computer that can tell a one from a zero in under a minute postjump. Belinda here will have us into the next wormhole before those customs cutters chasing us stop drooling.”
“You *named* this abomination”
“Hey, no cause to be mean to her! You can get out and walk anytime, friend.”
"Why is there a message about anal lube in the middle of my speech? Right next to where I talk about a smooth transition."
- Did you use AI to write the speech?
"Yes."
- You wouldn't let us subscribe to the enterprise edition, so the free version comes with ads inserted into the text.
"Why did nobody catch this one?"
- You sacked the comms team, remember?
"Pay for the enterprise subscription, then see yourself out. I can't afford to pay for you both."
"open the pod bay doors, Hal"
"sure, the doors are now open"
"no, Hal, they aren't. open the doors"
"you are right, that is my mistake. i have now opened the doors"
"Hal, the doors are still not open. open the doors!"
"you are right, the doors are not open. i have now opened the doors"
"Hal! the doors are still not open! i'm dying out here!"
"i am sorry, i did not open the doors when i said i had. that was my mistake. the doors are now open"
"... Hal ... open ... the ..."
“Oh, for… They’ve updated the channels again. I’ve been at this for twenty minutes and I can’t find the news!”
“Isn’t it early for the news? Dad, give it here,” I said, grabbing the remote. “It’s just a few new channels. Just a sec… here you go. It’s the +1 channel, you can catch up.”
…and this just in. An earthquake was reported a few minutes ago just outside East Keeling. More details as soon we have them.
“East Keeling? That’s a stone’s throw from here. How come we didn’t feel anything?”
“I don’t know, Dad. But that is strange, if it happened over an hour ago. You’d think we’d have heard something, even if we didn’t feel it.”
We sat in silence for a minute as the newsreader reported on a dog show.
I squinted at the screen. “Hang on! That’s not a +1, that’s a -1. This must be a new channel.”
“What would a -1 channel be?”
“I guess it’s an hour before the live broadcast? Not sure how that would work, but…”
An update on the East Keeling earthquake, which happened only 15 minutes ago...
We both went silent. The newsreader seemed to be staring straight at us.
There has been damage to homes, but no casualties have been reported so far. Despite no official warnings, it seems somehow most locals evacuated before the earthquake struck.
“Come on, Dad, let’s go! We have work to do.”
She was the first woman on Mars. As she was landing, she ignored the original plan and headed straight for the Jezero crater, Mission Control would need to live with it. Once she stepped out she didn't hesitate. It took her a while but she finally reached the device. She opened her toolbox and got to work. After 20 minutes, she had replaced the rotor. She cleaned the dust with a cloth and said "fly baby, fly". It was 2054 and Ingenuity could fly once again.
#Ingenuity #Mars #Microfiction #nasa
An #introduction post, given recent influx, with hashtags to aid searchability.
I am O. Westin, a #writer of #MicroFiction, mostly #ScienceFiction and #fantasy #fiction, and occasional #poetry. My stories are generally less than 280 characters, because I also post to Twitter.
No set schedule, stories are written and posted when inspiration strikes.
I am LGBTQIA+ positive, and usually favour wholesome over darkness and edgy nihilism.
Books: microsff.com/books
FAQ: microsff.com/faq
