Outside Joan’s window, humanity ran amok. The far hillside was covered in hobbyists building a mansion from macaroni. In the valley below, gamers fought epic bubble battles in towering tanks. Winding through it all were hikers on the 100-mile trail of ruffled roses. Her window framed the scene superbly, providing a portrait of society no artist could accomplish. Joan didn’t see it. She kept the shades pulled so the best view on Earth wouldn’t distract her from the most boring job there was. After all, it was the only job there was. Read more »
By
Chris Winkle,
narrated by Michelle Christine Heiner
Subject: Performance Report Follow-Up. From: Kareena Chaudhari ([email protected]). To: Jeff Klein ([email protected]). Message: Hi Jeff, I just wanted to check in and see if you’ve had the chance to generate that performance report we discussed. My presentation for the CTO is tomorrow, and I’ll need some time to look over the data and create appropriate graphics. I expect this presentation will be mentioned in my upcoming performance review, so I’d appreciate it if you could send me the data ASAP. Read more »
Camella the rat familiar perched upon the highest shelf of Witch’s cottage and stared down at the spy. Warlocks and wizards sent spies into the cottage to steal Witch’s powerful charms. But this wasn’t like any spy Camella had ever seen, not like the mechanical gnomes and flame sprites that warlocks and wizards preferred. Read more »
We came alive when the clock rang one. Submerged in night, we were safe from the scorching rays of sun and burning beams of lanterns. We emerged from the cracks in the cupboards and swam through the crannies between the floor planks. Famished from our day of fasting, we slid up the table to taste the dying heat of the evening’s tea and gorge on warmth from the oven. Bolstered, we condensed into shadows of the night air. After that we played, but we heard well the chimes on every hour, and once we heard five, we shrank back into our crevices and slept. So it was before the beast came. Read more »
Thank goodness it was Sunday; the museum offices would be mercifully vacant. The back parking lot lay empty, the silence beguiling. No one would distract Rita from her critical mission: submitting the grant proposal. Museum admissions barely covered the salary for her underpaid and overworked staff. Year after year, the rafters rotted and the plaster cracked, and she had no funds to repair them or anything else. Either she got that grant, or her museum was done. Read more »
This was the moment 623G had dreamed of, yet dreaded. The session went live; the timer counted upward. A thousand bots waited on the other end of the event feed. Each bot was downloading an image of 623G’s broken case, complete with burnt wires and outdated memory sticks. But after this demo, everyone would know that a refurbished server could create groundbreaking technology. Either that, or 623G’s hopes and dreams would be deleted permanently. Read more »
