《Science Fiction Shorts》


 Hope (1004 words)

    Hope


    Sabella sat alone. The old worn bench she occupied; constructed from bits and pieces, seemed to be made just for her. It had after all been in that bunker for nearly as long as she had been.


    Chubby-faced children followed after their robot teacher. Their little bodies bounced around excitedly as they waited for the museum to open. There was a new exhibit after all, and a very important one at that.


    She had sat on that bench every day for the last year, and every day she saw those smiling little faces as they watched the construction of the museum. They didn''t make her sad per se but they did always leave a certain feeling deep down in her heart. It just made her wish that her own children had stayed, and chosen a life in the bunker instead of the upload.


    "Maybe I should have gone with them,¡± she said, to herself.


    It had once made her sad, thinking that she and the life she provided for them wasn''t enough. But eventually, she realized they only wanted what she had had as a child, a life in the open under a dazzling blue sky.


    Sometimes she wondered if any of the children were her blood. It was just as likely as not, she thought. After all, only your brain is necessary for upload. Or not at all if you choose to be an explorer.


    ¡°Ah well, there''s nothing for it now!"


    She watched as one of the children broke off from the pack and booked it over to a worker cutting through the tunnels, no doubt heading home. Sabella couldn¡¯t help but smile as the man scooped up the child and hugged them tightly. There were always those, she couldn¡¯t help but think, that chose to delay uploading. The ones that took the contract and started life outside the upload, at least for a little while.


    "Sabella?"


    A sleek black bot stood in front of her, its face oblong and smooth for the second it took its sensors to register her gaze. With a flicker, a smiling young face now stared down at her. Its eyelids blinked in timed intervals, meant to put people at ease. It had always unnerved Sabella, the thought that people had forgotten how to blink.


    ¡°Yes, sorry I was lost in my head,¡± said Sabella.


    ¡°Plenty of time for that,¡± he said with a chuckle.


    ¡°Yes, I suppose you¡¯re correct.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    His face scrunched in on itself as he realized the inappropriateness of the joke. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!... I mean, I can''t tell you how much we appreciate, how much the human culture society appreciates your donation.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine I can take a joke,¡± she said, waving him off.


    Sabella stood from the bench, her bones audibly protesting. The robot man, whose name she had forgotten, visibly winced and offered her an arm. She clutched it, half expecting it to break as he pulled her up. They always felt so hollow she thought, like bird bones.


    They walked together toward the museum, the doors opening without a touch. She scoffed inwardly at the museum¡¯s name, ¡®Museum of the 21¡¯s Century¡¯; it wasn¡¯t very inventive.


    ¡°As I''m sure you are aware so much of the past has been lost due to the frantic nature of the rehoming and unfortunately the-"


    "Yes, I am aware of what happened in the past. I lived it after all."


    Sabella reached out and touched the inside of the door; she hadn¡¯t seen an automatic door work for years. It made her happy to see things that used to be so common when the bunker was new. She was glad for that, she remembered when things weren''t so good.


    "You know I ran this whole place once. Well, there was Chuck and Mona, but basically, it was mostly me." Chuck and Mona had been old, almost the same age as she was now. They had died days before things had truly changed, she always felt bad about that, even though there was nothing she could have done about it.


    "Yes, mam we are well aware of your many abilities and the fact that you are willing to, well it is just such an honor to accompany you at this time."


    They came to a stop in front of what looked to be a replica of the woods outside her childhood home. Amongst the small new trees, stood the empty tube.


    "I have to ask mam, what made you agree-," he stopped, his face taking on a sad tint. "Well, you could still be uploaded, be with your family. At the very least you could let us throw a party for you,¡± he said, with a chuckle.


    Sabella thought about her children, the only family she had left. How many years had it been since she had heard from them? She knew she could have called. She also knew she should have told them of her decision.


    "I have lived many years in this hole in the ground.¡± She thought of the children outside the museum patiently waiting. Their barely suppressed excitement for something new. ¡°Well, shall we get this over with?¡±


    <hr>


    The Bunker Gazette


    The grand opening of the Museum of the 21¡¯s Century marked the official turning point of our society. Though some worried it would be a somber event. It turned out to be one of celebration and hope, Thanks to Sabella Abe. The last of the youngest generation to have entered the Bunker at the end of the 21-century.


    Children and their robotic keepers swarmed the museum¡¯s featured exhibit. The children were particularly excited to be able to take park in Sabella¡¯s fondest childhood memory, hide-and-seek in her backyard.


    Physically interact with the holographic child (Sabella Abe) in a game of hide-and-seek. Admire the woman who sleeps within the forest, watching over us all until her knowledge is needed once again. The Museum of the 21¡¯s Century is sure to be the highlight of the year.

 Trash Collector

    Tom let out a sigh as he shot out another strand of the magnetic strip from his harvesting gun. It looked like an old-world crossbow, much too cool, thought Tom for a glorified trash collector.


    The long silver strand lassoed around a bit of space trash with a snap. Though there wasn¡¯t a sound, more just what he imagined. With a lazy twinge of his finger, he hit the second trigger. The piece of trash, left behind by the last ship, made its way back to him. He unstrapped the band and shoved the trash out into space away from the runway.


    He had been excited when he had gotten the job offer and even changed his name to fit in with the frontier. Unfortunately, he quickly learned that he had been misinformed, and people in the frontier didn''t go by the old-time names anymore.


    So now he just looked like some weirdo with a frontier fetish.


    Only old Tick Tock, the other wrangler paid any attention to him. Though Tom figured that was because he too, wasn¡¯t very popular, and that he was being paid to train him.


    ¡°Break.¡± Tick Tock¡¯s voice came in with a roll of static over the radio.


    ¡°Ok. I¡¯m going to head back to the dock. You coming with?¡± said Tome.


    He waved in Tick Tock¡¯s direction, across the expanse of the runway on the other side of the break pillars.


    ¡°Naw, I¡¯m just going to strap to a pillar and watch some vids,¡± he said, with a wave back.


    Tom watched Tick Tock move behind a pillar before he made his way back to the dock.


    The pillars, the essential braking system of the dock, crackled as he passed them by. Even dormant they put off enough electricity to interfere with the radio in his spacesuit. When they were on, they could stop a ship. But for now, they lay dormant, the next ship not scheduled for another few hours.


    Though his, and Tick Tock¡¯s suits had a special shielding, making them less affected by the electrical surges.


    ¡°Hay new guy!¡±


    Tom recognized the voice, it was Chakabell. She was with no doubt in Tom¡¯s mind the most beautiful woman at the Dock. He wondered what she wanted.


    ¡°Hay¡­ Hi! Chakabell what¡¯s up!¡± He was nearly back to the dock.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Yeah, so I see you¡¯re heading back. My friends and I were wondering if you wanted to do some jumps with us.¡±


    Jumps! Tom¡¯s heart stopped at the word. He had never been a thrill seeker back home. Sure, he had traveled lightyears for this job, but that was well planned and paid for by the company.


    Jumps were strictly prohibited according to the galactic safety commission, and the closest thing to excitement at the Dock. It would also be the worst way to die if you happened to get caught between the pillars when a ship came in.


    ¡°Yeah! sure I''ll be right there.¡± He adjusted his navigation and made his way to the Dock¡¯s port, where the jump was held.


    As he came to a slow stop, he noticed that more people were there than just her normal group of friends. In fact, he was sure there had to be at least a third of the dock waiting there.


    He suddenly felt very unsure of himself as they all turned to watch him. Their silent conversations within their helmets muted to him, even though he could see their lips moving.


    ¡°Hey, Tom! You ready for some excitement?¡± He stopped in front of Chakabell. ¡°I¡¯m so happy you came.¡± She grabbed his gloved hands, a smile visible on her face from behind her suit visor. ¡°We have all done it¡­ well except for Tick Tock, but he¡¯s old and¡­ well it¡¯s a sort of initiation. We wanted to do it earlier, but the Dock has been slammed with ships lately.¡±


    She led him over to the pusher as she explained the rules of the jump. They were simple, get launched by the pusher, and try to make it as far as you can down the runway before the natural magnetism of the pillars stops you.


    He knew he should be scared, terrified even, but the feel of her hand in his quickly soothed his nerves.


    He took his place in front of the pusher and looked out into the nothingness of space beyond the pillars and the runway. His radio crackled to life as the people who were watching him began to countdown.


    ¡®3¡­ 2¡­ 1¡­¡± he was launched into space.


    The pillars zoomed past him in a blur. It was exhilarating, a feeling he had never felt before in his life. Blood pumped in his ears, and he whooped excitedly as he flew through space. Pillar after pillar passed him by as he flew away from the Dock.


    The exhilaration he felt quickly turned to cold dread as the pillars began to activate. Electricity leaped from them as if seeking him out, and with a searing jolt of pain, everything went dark.


    He awoke shortly, as warning bells blared on his radio. His body was still humming with the electricity that had been forced through him.


    ¡°Impending ship entry all employees please vacate the receiving area and make their way to a secured location,¡± said the robotic voice of the Dock.


    Panic filled him as he realized his specially shielded suit had saved him but left him dead in the water and in the path of an inbound ship. It shouldn¡¯t have been there; the next ship wasn¡¯t scheduled for hours.


    ¡°HELP!¡± he yelled into his radio but was only greeted by static.


    The light of the pillars grew to signal his impending doom. He knew that if he could see behind him, he''d see the wormhole beginning to form, preparing to spit out whatever ship had decided to break the schedule. He thought, at least it would be quick.


    Something flashed in front of him, long and silver, and with a snap, it wrapped around his waist.


    ¡°What the hell kid?¡± It was Tick Tock. ¡°Don''t you know better than to be doing stupid shit for other people''s entertainment!¡±


    The silver trash band tugged at him, and he safely drifted over to Tick Tock.

 The Imn (1105 words)

    The Imn


    -Day 1264, Tower 508 log:


    It has only been a little over three years since I came to tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering¡­ tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job-


    ¡°To fight against¡­¡± to fight against¡­


    I pause, my mind going blank; it feels wrong, but I can¡¯t remember why. With a twinge of worry, I leave my daily log and hurry over to the radio. Has forgetfulness been one of the symptoms of the infection? Or was it just being stuck in a tiny tin can that was making me forget?


    The levers and knobs of the radio are like old friends, and I quickly dial up Enya, my handler.


    ¡°Tower to Handler, are you there?¡±


    Her reply is instant. Her deep throaty acceptance of my call has been the only other human voice I had heard since I entered the tin can.


    ¡°Handler to the tower I¡¯m here, you''re up early!¡±


    Was I? I couldn¡¯t remember.


    -Day 1264, Tower 508 log:


    It has only been a little over three years since I came to Tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering¡­ tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job-


    ¡°To fight against¡­The Imn!... Yes, that¡¯s right.¡±


    The evil nanobot-like hive race that came to Earth 10 years ago. They infected everything they touched and turned living flesh into robotic circuitry. The towers were the last defense above ground. The remnants of untouched humanity burrowing deep beneath the earth.


    The sound of claws scrabbling across the roof of my tin can catch my attention. It sounds like a bird, though I hadn¡¯t heard one in months. I gently tiptoe to the bio scanner across from the radio. The machine wears to life at the flick of a switch, and I hold my breath hoping the bird didn¡¯t hear.


    The screen flashes red, and I confirm the action the computer recommends. With a sense of hopelessness, I make my way to the radio to report my findings. The bird will eventually fly away, on its journey to infect more living creatures. At least now it will be infecting them with the antivirus.


    A tingle of hope still holds deep within me, but I¡¯m afraid we are fighting a losing battle.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    -Day 1264, Tower 508 log:


    It has only been a little over three years since I came to Tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering¡­ tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job to fight against the Imn. Though like Rapunzel I am incredibly bored.


    The screen light dims as I move away from it, leaving my journal to go dark. Instead, I take stock of my inventory as I do every day. There¡¯s nothing concerning to report other than the strange amount of dust on my food rations. I don¡¯t remember them being so dusty yesterday, but then I don¡¯t really remember eating yesterday. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth mentioning to Enya.


    -Day 1264, Tower 508 log:


    It has only been a little over three years since I came to Tower 508, but it feels like so much longer than that. In this little tin box, stuck atop a towering¡­ tower, all alone like Rapunzel in the stories. Though unlike Rapunzel I have a job, a very important job to fight against the Imn. Though like Rapunzel I am incredibly bored.


    The screen light dims as I move away from it, leaving my journal to go dark. My foot catches on something, and I tumble to the floor with a loud clang that seems to shake the tower. Standing I find the culprit, a rusty bolt. It lies between me and the door. The door has been sealed since I took my position at Tower 508, but something seems wrong with it.


    It''s open!


    Panic fills me as I hurry over to it. It¡¯s not all the way open, the latch is still firmly in place, but shafts of sunlight stream through cracks that should be welded in place.


    -Day 1264, Tower 508 log:


    There is a man in my tin can. He is restrained by what looks to be homemade rope and gagged with a blue bandana. His eyes are hidden by a pair of glasses that look like they belong in an ¡¯80s sci-fi movie, and he¡¯s dressed for winter even though it¡¯s the middle of August. Someone left him here like this, but who? I am going to remove his gage, but I have to admit I¡¯m scared.


    He flinches away from me as I reach toward him and remove the blue bandana from his mouth. It¡¯s wet with his saliva, and I drop it immediately wondering if I have been infected.


    ¡°Listen to me. I know I attacked you last night, but I thought you were one of them. Well, I mean can you blame me, just look at you.¡± His words tumble out fast as he attempts to scoot away from me.


    I open my mouth to ask what that¡¯s supposed to mean but he doesn¡¯t give me a chance.


    ¡°Look, just take my glasses and you¡¯ll see that I¡¯m human. The eyes always go first with the virus, yeah?¡±


    Hesitantly I remove his glasses revealing the brownest eyes I had ever seen. He smiles at me, seeming satisfied with my reaction.


    ¡°Now put them on and take a look around.¡±


    I do as he asks.


    My surroundings, my tin can change before my eyes. Rust-stained walls¡­ and the radio I had used just the other day-- broken and disemboweled. The only thing that looked to be working was my sleep pod and the bio scanner. Both are heavily corrupted by the Inm virus.


    ¡°Yeah, they get you in there, in the head but sometimes it doesn¡¯t completely work, and some-- things get left behind.¡±


    I hear him talking but nothing he says makes sense. I had only been here three years¡­ hadn¡¯t I?


    ¡°Now I don¡¯t want to freak you out even more, but you should look at your hands.¡±


    I look down. My fingers splay out in front of me, but they aren¡¯t mine, not the ones I was born with. They had been replaced; I was an Imn.

 Shut up I have the talking stick!

    With a billow of exhaust, a scraped-together racing ship came to a stop in an out of the way pull off tunnel. The Mighty Donut, painted in long, wide, lime green brush strokes took up most of its exterior. The exterior consisted of a conglomeration of parts from various junk heaps from around the sector, and one of those pieces was currently dangling precariously from it. The only thing keeping it attached was a sticky pink piece of gum.


    A long low canopy of dirty, finger-smudged glass opened with a click. It rolled back allowing a small gray creature resembling an Opossum to stick his head out. He surveyed the situation spotting the dangling piece of the ship and quickly scrambled out into the tunnel.


    ¡°I told you the bubble gum wouldn''t work,¡± he said as he waved a small wooden stick with the words mom engraved along its side.


    Another of the same creature jumped out from the canopy. His beady eyes were hidden by the round aviator goggles he had strapped firmly in place. His nose wiggled as he bared his tiny sharp teeth, quickly grabbing the stick, and bonking the other one on the head.


    ¡°It would have worked just fine if the rats hadn¡¯t ran into us.¡±


    Another two popped their heads out from the canopy of the ship; One standing triumphantly with a roll of tape held high in its two little clawed hands. The other was barely visible, except for their beady black eyes that hovered just over the edge of the canopy watching the other two, as they passed the stick back and forth, and continued to bicker next to the hardening gum.


    ¡°TAPE!¡± he screamed, dragging out the word as he shook the roll above his head.


    The one with the aviator glasses growled as he wielded the stick menacingly. With a flash he bonked the tape bearer on the head, causing him to reel back into the cockpit. The tape flew from his hands to arc high above them all, before tumbling out the tunnel entrance, and disappearing into the depths below.


    ¡°AK! Not the tape, now we don''t even have the tape,¡± said the first creature. His outburst earned him a bonk as well.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I have the talking stick!¡± said the bespectacled creature. ¡°So, only I can talk.¡± He looked around at them all. ¡°And I say that we should have used the tape.¡±


    The first creature glared at him saying nothing; then with a flash of tiny claws, he grabbed the stick from the other and bonked him on the head.


    Groans emanated from within the cockpit from the tape bearer as tension grew in the tunnel between the two standing next to the gummy panel. The eyes of the fourth creature stayed on the two even as the grown grew into a loud moan for attention.


    ¡°We should just stick the panel back on, and you.¡± He poked the other in the stomach. ¡°Should just stop running into things. This isn''t a demolition derby, it''s a race, stupid.¡± He pointed the stick back at the other, who just glared at him in return.


    With a flash of fur and claws, the bespectacled creature lunged at the other, grabbing a hold of the stick. They tussled furiously, turning into a tight ball of fur, teeth, and claws. Growls and shouts emanated from the pair as each one tried to gain the stick from the other. Until the stick flew free up both their hands. It arched high, nearly bouncing off the metal top of the tunnel before making the same descent as the fatefully lost roll of tape.


    The beady eyes of the one that still watched from the cockpit widened in terror. Without a second thought, he darted out of the cockpit, scurrying past the two still fighting who were just now realizing the stick had been lost in the struggle. He jumped into the sky, his tiny clawed hands just barely wrapping around the edge of the stick, but he had caught it, the stick was safe.


    He squealed with glee, and then terror as he realized he had overshot the distance by just a few inches, and now instead of just the stick plummeting to the depths below, he would be joining it. His squeak became a scream as his little life flashed before his eyes.


    Two sets of clawed hands shot out, both grabbing him firmly around the ankles just before he disappeared for good. He dangled precariously over the edge; stick firmly in hand. The two who had just been fighting now strained to pull him to safety. He smiled up at them with a sharp-toothed smile.


    ¡°I saved the stick,¡± he cried.


    The two smiled down at him saying nothing as they began to pull him up. The once tape bearer, having given up his bemoaning to see what was going on, came up behind them rubbing at the knot on his head.


    ¡°Where''s the tape?¡± He said.


    The two groaned in unison as they continued to pull up the other still holding the stick firmly in hand. The one that had nearly plummeted to his death glared at the once tape bearer and pointed the stick at him.


    ¡°Shut up, I have the talking stick!¡±

 Fallen Hero (1141 words)

    <u>Fallen Hero</u>


    ¡°I was a hero once.¡±


    I watch my lips move in the mirror as I say the words. Making sure that every word was enunciated perfectly, my lips pouted just the right amount as I rolled the words with my tongue.


    ¡°I was a hero once,¡± I say again, letting my face fall, and my lips go numb. ¡°But then¡ª¡±


    A rap at the door halts my words and I rearrange my face back into one of wanting beauty.


    ¡°Come in Fret.¡±


    I turn back to the mirror pretending I¡¯m not watching her as she enters the door. Her metallic skin shines in the bright lights of my room. ¡®Metallics on trend,¡¯ she would tell me nearly every day, but no matter what she says I stay with the synthetic peach-colored flesh so like what my skin used to look like. The company that produced it was one of my sponsors though they didn¡¯t pay as much as Fret liked.


    ¡°They¡¯re ready for you BubbelPop.¡±


    She looks me over with her dead shiny metallic eyes, as her lips twitched downwards in disapproval at my still human appearance. How likely was it I wondered, did she actually care or was she just practicing her movements; probably both. I pushed myself up from the table, casting one last glance at the mirror before leaving it behind.


    Fret¡¯s hand shot out as I walked by, halting me in my tracks.


    ¡°The Knot wants you to change your skin before the next interview. Something more akin to¡­¡± She let her words draw out as her eyes bore into me, her grip tight enough to snap a human arm, but not mine. ¡°They think it would be better if you showed you truly embraced the change.¡±


    I yanked my arm out of her grip glad to see that she hadn¡¯t marred the synthetic flesh before I went on cam. I breathed in a deep breath I no longer needed, relishing her look of annoyance before quickly popping on a smile.


    ¡°Whatever the Knot wants the Knot shall receive.¡± I flashed her a quick curtsy before leaving the room.


    I beardly registered the host as he rambled on about me and my sacrifice, and about how I had saved humanity. How I was a genius for using my social media clout as an uber influencer; his words not mine. To convince the masses just how deadly the B45T virus just really was, and just how important it was to go through the change before one¡¯s twenty-fifth birthday.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Instead, I smiled, and nodded as I scanned the crowd, my eyes falling on the one person I had hoped would be there. They didn¡¯t smile or cheer like the rest of the crowd, they only watched and waited. Their eyes met mine, before quickly darting to the left and right, drawing my attention to the others that dotted the crowd.


    ¡°BubbelPop, you had a lot of pushback from those¡­ well let¡¯s just call them ill-informed at the time. After all, I was one of them, but you Bubbel, I can call you Bubbel can¡¯t I?¡±


    I looked at him and smiled.


    ¡°All my friends call me Bubbel, so of course, you Mr. Retek, can call me anything you want.¡± The crowd roared in laughter as I made kissy faces at them.


    Mr. Retek pulled at his collar pretending to be embarrassed before quickly shushing the crowd. He placed his elbow on his desk with a loud clunk and cradled his shiny head in his hands.


    But seriously though, Bubbel do you have anything you would like to say to those that still fight against what every other person on earth knows? That the Knot only wants to help us, to make amends for accidentally bringing the B45T virus to earth. It was a simple mistake, right folks? The crowd roared once again in agreement.


    I looked over the crowd and smiled as I waited for them to calm down. It had always been easy to disguise my emotions but since becoming a machine it had become effortless, in fact, I had to remember at times to even show them. The crowd hushed and I stood ready to say my final words to them.


    ¡°I think that we should do our best to remember who we are and just how hard we, as a species, fight. Even if sometimes we are wrong about what we are fighting for. That we should be able to admit when we are wrong, like me, though I¡¯m almost never wrong.¡±


    The crowd laughed, and Mr. Retek clapped and stood.


    ¡°Ah, words of wisdom BubbelPop, and now as we speak one of our very own audience members is being selected to do a live interview with the lovely.¡± He turned and waved graciously toward me, ¡°BubbelPop.¡±


    Back in the room, a nervous girl sat across from me, her phone shaking in her hand as she live streamed the two of us. I sat as I always did in front of the mirror, its mirrored surface behind me to catch the reflection of the interviewing fan; people love knowing just who the lucky person was. Fret, as usual, stood nearby just out of the camera, but this time I was going to change things up.


    ¡°So¡ª¡± I stop the girl with a wave and a smile.


    ¡°Real quick before we start, I would like to introduce Fret.¡± I stood quickly and wrapped one arm around her as she glared at me; she was definitely getting better with practice. ¡°Fret is¡­ my manager, my handler, you know the person that makes sure I don¡¯t get out of line.¡± The girl smiled a weak smile, no doubt confused as to what was going on. ¡°Fret is also part of the Knot.¡±


    Fret turned to me, so surprised. She hadn¡¯t had time to register a reaction, and I wasn¡¯t going to give her any. With a click, the wrist of my arm so casually draped around her, flicked back revealing a long blade hidden in my forearm. It extended in a flash, and I cut through her neck. Her head tumbled along the floor and the young fan shrieked in terror.


    ¡°Keep filming!¡± I yield at her not wanting this moment wasted.


    She pointed the camera back at the head and gasped as she saw the tiny yellow legs dangling out of a tiny hatch built into the spine of the head. With a little flop, Fret fell out and staggered for a moment on the cold surface of the linoleum floor, her large amphibian eyes wide in surprise before I stepped on her.


    ¡°There, Matt, I think you have all you need to start the rebellion,¡± I said to the man who had silently entered the room, the same man who had been in the audience.

 Zombie (992 words)

    Happy smiling faces of people satisfied with their life bounced across the screen of the waiting room tv. Of course, they were happy they were on whatever pill that commercial was peddling. I belched a noxious rolling gas of acidic stomach bile. My eyes teared up just as the warning scroll began at the end of the commercial.


    ¡°Ah fuck, just kill me now.¡±


    I ignored the annoyed look of the mom across from me, and her child trying to free themselves from her grip as she covered their ears. Instead, I turned my attention back to the tv with a sigh just as the last sentence disappeared.


    ¡°Did that just say it may cause temporary death?¡± The mother just continued to glare at me. And before I could think about it any further, a nurse emerged from the door that led to the exam rooms in the back.


    ¡°Mr. Sim, the doctor is ready for you.¡±


    ¡­


    The pills sparkled dimly in the orange light of the break room. I popped one in my mouth, the first one out of the five I was supposed to take a day. They were small like candy and fizzled just a bit on my tongue before I washed it down with the room-temperature coffee I had been nursing all morning.


    ¡°That coffees not going to help your acid reflux, Tim,¡± said Stacey as she plopped down beside me. Her green juice bottle in hand was already in motion as she shook up her lunch. ¡°New pills? You know I keep telling you that if you change your diet and exercise more, your stomach will probably stop trying to kill you.¡±


    I shook the bottle of pills one last time before sticking them back into my pocket.


    ¡°Or I can trust science and take the new experimental pill.¡± I stood, my stomach gurgling loudly, apparently agreeing with Stacey.


    ¡­


    Four pills fizzled in my mouth as I roamed the aisles of the store as a woman with an overly quaffed bob trailed behind me, complaining about how we were out of Smokey Bubble Pops. My doctor had warned against taking more than one at a time, but my stomach was revolting against the woman and probably the greasy pepperoni pizza I had at break.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°This is ridiculous, you are a major grocery chain. How could you run out of Smokey Bubble Pops? You know I have a good mind to contact your regional manager- ¡°


    The woman just kept talking, and with every word my stomach rolled, with every word it grumbled, growling at the woman hungry even though I had just eaten. With one final lurching growl, that brought me to my knees in the middle of aisle six. The greasy pizza from lunch made its way up my esophagus and through my lips. It was red, redder than I would have expected, so bright against the dimming light of the world around me. It¡¯s after image hanging in the air as my world went black, and the last thing I felt was the dust of the tile floor as it scattered from me leaving only the cold floor beneath it.


    I came to slowly; the world was gray as if the color had been leached out of it. The woman stood over me, looking down on me, but not in concern, in annoyance.


    ¡°Really, you¡¯re going to pull the sick card. Well, I will let you know that will not stop me from contacting corporate. If anything, it makes me want to contact them more.¡±


    She wagged a finger down at me as she continued to scream at me. Others appeared from the corner of my vision, peeking around the aisle corners concerned but weary of the woman.


    ¡°Come on get up, get up you good for nothing¡ª¡±


    I moved faster than I think I ever have in my life; her screams were barely noticeable as I latched onto her finger and bit down.


    ¡­.


    My feet dangled from the end of the exam bed. Normally I would be cold with only the thin paper-like gown, but I felt nothing. Even my stomach for the first time in my life was silent. I glanced back at the door, knowing there was a cop on the other side. I suppose I had been lucky the moment the EMT found out I was on Britak everything seemed to change, and instead of jail I was taken to the doctor¡¯s office.


    The doctor shuffled into the room, the silhouette of the officer watching the door just barely visible. His face was buried in his clipboard as he came to a stop in front of me.


    ¡°Well, Mr. Sim, it looks like you¡¯re the lucky, or maybe not so lucky winner of the rare side effects award.¡±


    He looked at me from the clipboard before moving the half step to the counter, setting it down, and taking a seat in the tiny round stool on wheels.


    ¡°So, the good thing is you don¡¯t have to worry about the woman you bit the finger off of.¡± He scooted up to me. ¡°The Mega Corp is going to take care of that. In fact, they are going to not only take care of that, but they are also going to fund your life from now on.¡±


    I looked at him, dumbfounded by just how easy this was all going.


    ¡°Ok, ok, but I bit her finger off¡­ and¡­ and it tasted good.¡±


    He sighed and smiled at me.


    ¡°One of the side effects¡­ a rare one is a temporary death. You are one of the few people that have experienced this side effect, and thanks to that, you will now be dependent on the pills to¡­ not enjoy it again. So, basically, you are set for life and will live¡­ or not live for a very long time.¡±


    I sat up straight, his words hanging heavy in my head.


    ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m a Zombie?¡±

 Dendrophiliac

    Club Hothouse wasn¡¯t the sort of place Trick O'' Radler¡¯s copilot and best friend George normally would insist on patronizing. The sultry sounds and smooth music were a complete contrast to the hard metal music Mandragoras typically preferred. But the club was one of the few on the station that could, and would, serve humans. So with a few bristly waves, and a sardonic robotic voiced jibe, about barbaric human nutrient absorption. George agreed to suffer through the blues club.


    "Don¡¯t embarrass me with your disgusting human slurping sounds," said George, as he wheeled his motorized pot through the club¡¯s doors. "I still say that we should just bunk up for the night and leave early in the morning.¡±


    It was humid in the club, and bright lights burned from overhead.


    "Four months in hyper, George. Four months of smelling nothing but shit, in hyper. I''m not getting back in that captain seat until I have at least one drink, and the scrubbers are finished clearing every bit of that stench."


    "Aw, it wasn¡¯t that bad. Besides jobs to the Greenhouse Station pay bank.¡± His leaves twitched, ¡°And you know I hate it when the scrubbers touch my stuff... it¡¯s unnatural."


    The door to the club shut behind them with a soft swish. And the two made their way to one of the few tables at the back of the club.


    "Unnatural! That¡¯s funny coming from you. You know there¡¯s not many bipeds that think a walking talking plant is natural. Besides their not touching your stuff, they''re cleaning it. Their simple single-celled amoebas, literally the most natural thing in the universe."


    George gave a little shudder, as his wheeled pot came to a stop at the table. Its mechanized motor wearing as it elevated him to table level.


    "I don¡¯t know how you humans can look past the fact that they are literally reproducing while oozing all over the ship. They literally get off while eating your dead, flaked-off skin cells."


    Trick grimaced. When George put it that way it did sound wrong. But before he could think on it further, a hearty Conium Maculatum appeared at the edge of the table.


    "Well, well, well, a human. It¡¯s been a cycle since we¡¯ve had one of your kind in house." A pink smiling emoji popped up on her pot. "Perfect timing not many humans get to hear the lyrics of Jezabel Brugmansia x candida. I''m Haley Conium Maculatum by the way, and I can take your order anytime you¡¯re ready."


    They made their orders: a fertilizer stick for George, and a Flirty Freda for Trick. He was dubious about ordering it. The amount of pureed fruit in it gave him pause. But Haley just emojied them a wink and quickly disappeared.


    "Hum!"


    "What?" said George.


    "I was just surprised that they would serve fruit drinks. I mean isn¡¯t that like serving up one of your own."


    George flashed a side-eye emoji across the front of his pot.


    "First off fruit is more the antiquated berthing byproduct of the human placenta. And I don¡¯t see humans getting all weird about composting. You do know what dirt is made from... Right? Heck, I could be getting ready to digest your grandpa in this stick right now. I mean who knows maybe I will be." Devil face emoji.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "It would probably be the best meal you ever had."


    "Doubtful," said George.


    Haley reappeared with their orders quickly depositing them before making her way to the other clientele. The club had filled to a considerable extent, leaving the place feeling like a long-lost earth forest. Trick couldn¡¯t help but begin to feel uncomfortable within the dense foliage. Nearly losing himself as the room erupted in shaking leaves.


    "Finally, If I had to hear another hushed conversation about you from this undergrowth, I was going to lose my soil."


    To Trick, the place had been deathly quiet. Other than the occasional leaf twitch. But that had always been the problem with plants, and the reason most humans hated being around them.


    The lights in the club dimmed, and the rustling fell to a hushed whisper. As Jezabel Brugmansia x candida ascended the stage. Her sleek bipedal mechanical legs clicked across the stage. Her leaves swayed back and forth as if caught in a breeze. And her sleek black, and silver pot sparkled in the spotlight, which followed her every movement.


    "Wow," said George. "Ok, well maybe this wasn¡¯t a waste of time after all..." As his leaves begin to twitch along with the rest of the crowd.


    Music began to play, quickly filling what little space was left in the club with the harmonic sounds of blues. It was the sort of music that brought Trick back to his childhood. And then Jezabel Brugmansia x candida began to sing.


    "I came up from the ground."


    "I came up from the ground where my momma put me down."


    Trick sipped his drink hoping the fruity concoction would hide his grimace. He wasn¡¯t sure what he had expected, but the mechanical robotic voice coming from Jezabel was jarring. He downed his drink, wishing he had ordered two, as he plastered on a smile and glued his eyes to the stage.


    "I came up from the ground and ain¡¯t no one ever going to put me back down."


    The music faded to the rustling of leaves. Jezabel Brugmansia x candida, shivered slightly before she made her way from the stage.


    "Well that was something," said Trick, spotting the waitress and quickly waving her down.


    "I''m sure you didn¡¯t get the full effect of her... Human ears are so primitive after all. Hay, you know what? This has been better than I would have expected. I think I''m going to get a nitrate drip."


    "Oh, a real splurge," said Trick, as he smiled at the waitress, a drink already on her tray.


    "Hay you," she said, depositing the drink in front of him. "You have an admirer."


    The drink was the same as the one he had ordered before. But now a single flower lay atop its fruity innards. Trick eyed it, confusion plain on his face.


    "Okay, look at the time ha ha ha ha ha. I think it¡¯s time we head back to the ship." George wheeled away from where he had been sitting and rammed his pot into Trick.


    "Ow, what the hell? The ship¡¯s not even ready yet, and I thought you wanted to get a drip." Trick picked up the flower and sniffed it.


    "Oh god don¡¯t do that." The club filled with the rustling of leaves, and George quickly rammed into Trick once again. "Man, we are going to get planted if we don¡¯t leave. And drop the flower, unless you want them to think you¡¯re a dendrophiliac.


    Trick dropped the flower and stood. The rustling of the other plants in the room grew louder as Trick stumbled backward making his way to the door. George followed in his wake, his leaves rustling as antagonistic emojis flashed across his pot in various directions.


    The doors to the club shut behind them, cutting off the angry rasping of leaves. The ghostly sounds of the Greenhouse Station quickly overtook them.


    "What just happened?" said Trick.


    "You my friend were just solicited by Jezabel Brugmansia x candida. I guess all your smiling and staring really turned her on, and it pissed some plants off."


    The two moved away from the club, Trick glancing back over his shoulder every few steps to make sure no plants decided to follow them out. But the door remained closed.


    ¡°What, how¡­¡± said Trick, feeling more confused than he ever had in his life.


    ¡°Pollination. Geez, what do they even teach in human school.¡±


    Trick stopped, and stared at his best friend, and copilot.


    "How is that even possible..."