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Weekly Contest #354
The 1004th, the Tufters, is the premier mech mining unit in the entire system. No one pulls higher percentages or volume, or takes bigger risks. My grandpappy was a Tufter, my daddy was a Tufter, and I’ve been a Tufter since I was old enough to mount a mech. When the contract came through to be the first Tufters on Larissa, a moon of Neptune, I volunteered so fast I nearly broke my elbow raising my hand. The first Tufter on a moon of Neptune? The first Tufter on Larissa? All contracted, all hazard pay? No politics, just good clean riggin’ an...
Weekly Contest #353
“Three sacks short, Bill.” Susan says as she ticks the marks on her clipboard. She bends down, aligning the tops of the individual sacks back to their original position as she tips them back towards the wall.“If we’re short, we’re going to have to count again.” Bill retorts, exhaling hard. “We have to be right before we take it to the council.” He puts his hands on his hips, and inhales hard, filling his lungs. He shakes his head.“I know Bill, I know.” Susan looks at him, her eyebrows arching, concerned. “Let’s get started. If this...” Her v...
Weekly Contest #352
They’re out of raspberry, again. They were out of raspberry last week too. Chrissy is working, so I’ll get over it, but I was really hoping they would have raspberry this week. Coming all the way out here, two buses and a walk, just for coffee is crazy, but worth it if Chrissy is working. The pastries are ok, but she’s the reason I make the trip. She is beautiful, and although that has shallow value to my eyes, her wit and attitude are the draw. She is lovely. “Mr. J!” She smiles. “How was the trip today?”“Not bad. It’s nice out this morning...
Weekly Contest #351
“The paper is so nice.” I think to myself as I feel the soft texture in one hand, and dab my eyes with the tissue in the other. I am still holding back tears, but my makeup is already destroyed. I fling the letter and the opened envelope onto my desk, bouncing them off the new Tablet, which is still processing the last voice prompt. Processing... I roll my eyes hard and get up from my chair, pull a new tissue and start dabbing the continued tears away from my eyes. I grab the letter and stuff it poorly back into its envelope, and shove it i...
“In a quarter mile, take the slight left onto Smith Street.” says the digitized voice, still in an Australian person’s accent. One of many things in the state Alice’s humor left them in before the accident. Two years, ten months, and a few days seems enough time on the calendar, but not quite enough for my brain to process this visit or date or whatever the hell this was. “Slight left. Then your destination is on the right.” “Thanks.” I mutter to the empty car. I pull up and park in front of the house, bumping the curb pretty hard with the p...
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