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Weekly Contest #170
A game made the rounds on the platforms, and if one had the hard-earned digital cash if their social credit permitted, one could purchase the most addictive game on the market. Marco Sanchez was instantly hooked when the name “Reptilian Reflex” graced across his hungry eyes with its font of broken up letters that oozed out the bottom. The game was complex, engaging and went on until the sun burnt out. One night, he and his friend immersed themselves in the ever-eternal realms of “Reptilian Reflex...
Weekly Contest #169
Theo strutted through the park, hands in coat pockets, slushing through the carpet of reds and yellows leftover from the trees above. Passing a giant oak, someone he recognized came ambling from the other way. It was Old Man Bob McKimson, a regular among the beaten paths sporting his fisherman’s cap and wool tweed overcoat as usual. He was carrying a walking stick found among the fallen branches and cordially waved it, hoping to stop and talk. Theo obliged, always fascinated by the old man’s tales from days ...
Weekly Contest #161
The inquiry was done in secret, and the assembly was quickly handpicked upon his arrest. At the long table, three interrogators were centered, flanked by official witnesses. The rest was security. Darius assured himself there were multiple weapons trained on him at every corner; he saw them in the infrared scan. The central figure, a military VIP well past middle age, finally spoke with a degree of haughtiness. “I’m interested with how you evaded the record...
Weekly Contest #160
Netikka gazed across the room at the congregation. Anxiety weighed on her heart as she contemplated whether the final ritual would yield the desired results. It was necessary however, and to avoid it was to die miserably. Her eyes shifted to the windows; outside was pitch black. It was in the dead of a windless night, the air stale from parchment and a silence that overshadowed the waning hours. Rituals like this were redundant, especially when under the tutelage of the village shaman, but thi...
Weekly Contest #159
Popularity was destiny. Stenn-5.8813 knew. Walking around as an advertisement was tiring, even though it was the end of the day and 'they' were eager to continue jaunting until the wee hours of the morning. There was still work to do. They flipped on the internal HUD appearing in their field of view. Rostering through the persona index containing the day's ego-dumps, they carefully itemized a pair of hip luxury slippers—were they wire mesh stilettos?—check, and they took a toll on the wage rew...
Weekly Contest #158
A parking lot lay ahead rimmed with thatches of trees. The area was vacant, not seeing a car in years considering the outgrowth jutting from the cracks in the pavement. Not a leaf rustled, except the evening wind trailing off solid ground in a quietude beneath a sunset sky. A poplar overhung the far corner where two men, one tall and lanky and the other of medium build, settled themselves. They were tired and bedraggled, keeping watch of their surroundings. The tall man drew into his back pocket and...
Weekly Contest #157
The billows of clouds overlooked the presidium with its sprawling mat of minarets, domes and rectangular residences. The glaring white light from the F-4 star blanketed the city in a silver shroud, reflecting its power and opulence. Wealth was untold in the Dorf Imperium, an easy ticket for continuity of royalty under the Premiership of Lord Imblorr. He was virtually elevated to godhood, much of it passed on to his seated position, and relished the impunity he had with even the boldest of actions. P...
Weekly Contest #156
Martin Solberg sat at his pod donned in the three-piece outfit expected of all paralegals. The suit made him stand out as a dark figurine jutting into the bare white walls and the bright fluorescents above. Each move he made was easily noticeable from across the room like a shadow cast before a projected screen, so the attorney had the advantage of taking a quick glance over her shoulder to see if her underling was absorbed in other thoughts. Though, the panoptical setting did not dissuade him from momentarily abandoning his r...
Weekly Contest #155
The doors opened on a cold whim. No sound, no protest. Everything fell into the silent ambience of the alabaster lighting encapsulating every corner of the Civilian and Culture Building. The door slid shut behind without notice. In plain view was the conduct coordinator, a lump of a post-modern human more akin to a walking thumb, sitting at the circular desk in the middle of the room, a product of middle management handling the valuable contributions and disciplines of its employees. There was no na...
The endocardiograph chirped away, then grew in rapidity. Evan Hardsfeld saw through a thinning tunnel of light while all else was enveloped in blackness. Bound by the stupor of methadone, he knew his world was slipping away. At seventy-five, he had too many regrets that spontaneously stormed into his fading psyche. Images of his past life, loved ones, coworkers and neighbors flashed by in a desultory montage, but remained coherent. The tension was grave. Doctors scrambled around, struggling to resuscitate ...
Weekly Contest #154
The sun slowly sank beneath the mountains and night fell into a hazy stillness, the stars bleary and fragile and the lunar crescent parting the milky skies like the Red Sea. Just beyond one of the plantations encroaching into the dwindling forests of mahogany and lime berry, a cold flash of light illuminated a patch of woods. A peasant farmer was aroused by the sight as he plodded back from the barn to shut down for the evening. Curious, he grabbed his lantern and lit the tallowed wax before heading into the ...
Weekly Contest #153
They called it the Dump. It was a tract of land the size of Rhode Island filled to the brim with trash as far as the horizon could accommodate. Upkeep was long forgotten since the War of Inversions reduced any sign of civilization to ashes and made mincemeat out of history. Some say there was a victor in the War of Inversions, the rest didn’t know because they were unable to discern a lightbulb from a leg of lamb. The Smarties, they called them, were extinct, leaving their mental underlings to procu...
Weekly Contest #152
A series of clattering, clunking and banging rocked the kitchen. A lonely woman approaching middle age loaded her dishwasher from a rack bent out of shape from years of use. The sink was still full of culinary wares neglected from the last few nights. She began singing out of tune when she came across an odd receptacle. It had the shape of a human face whose craftsman made the common mistake of pushing realism into the netherworld of uncanny valley. It was an eyesore. The enlarged grin stared b...
The band of the galaxy seared through the starry canvas. The barrier of Base Central was as clear as if space itself was exposed. Even the internal lighting shone from underneath captured the image, rather the countenance, of the triumvirate seated in the stepped podiums. Their platforms floated above the ground plane, making them look far more imposing. Argon stood below; his decorum stiff with his head erect awaiting the first line of instructions. Despite his disciplined veneer, he was unab...
Weekly Contest #151
“What the hell?” It was the wordless scream from Sergio Estevel who last remembered his human form just before falling asleep. There was no telling why such a change happened over the course of only one night. It certainly felt like a dream, a waking nightmare. It had to have been. What was out there was only a figment of the subconscious reorienting all his thoughts and experiences. Nothing else. Yet, the extra dose of surrealism came through observations of his surroundings, contact with specific items,...
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