Tag: SciFi (nonspecific)

Flash: Long Loop

Erin Penn

Image Courtesy of Mert Kahveci on Unsplash

I had been wanting to immigrate forever, but I have few saleable skills and even less money. While every planet needs workers – secretaries, assemblers, warehouse, retail – the chance to jump to the New Edens (as the advertising says) is limited by those that own the transportation and the land at the end of the trip. Most planets are bought by corporations or by corporations which masquerade as a rich family lines, and these businesses usually have things all sewn up. They have the special worker they want, the technician or scientist, and the related family needed to keep him or her happy fills all the other slots in the worker class.

Long Loop is an exception. Though having twelve hard-to-find mineral, as well as an amazing crop of flora and fauna for medical experiments, it has two major disadvantages. A long loop, creating long seasons, and a planet tilt that makes Earth’s tilt seem cute. This put the planet in the “discount bin”; too many other better, safer options were being found by exploration teams for the rich corporations to care even a little about Long Loop.

A coalition of small-time investors took advantage low cost; the exploration team just wanted to make back enough money so they could afford to go out again. And I took advantage of Long Loop Incorporated need for basic workers.

I am a stupid ass human being.

Today is day thirteen of the sun not rising at my latitude, on a planet for thirty-four hour days.

So flipping tired.

(words 262, first published 1/2/2022)

Flash: Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Erin Penn

Image from FreeDigitalPhotos.net

“Here on the range I belong, drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds.”

“Daphrous, you have your mike open. Repeat your mike is open.”

“Of course it is, that regulations right? (hmm, hmming, a-hmm)”

“Daphrous, I am not being paid enough to have you serenade me about some Earth-forsaken prairie weeds.”

“TetherKeeper, don’t be silly, I’m serenading the rocks. Telling them how pretty they are.”

“Is this another human thing?”

“Yes, it is another human thing. A whistle why you work thing.”

“Daphrous, please do not start whistling.”

“Nah, the rocks don’t like that song. It was about a bunch of miners. They much prefer to hear how beautiful then are and how lucky I am to be among these tumbling tumbleweeds.”

“The asteroids are not alive.”

“Sure they are. As alive as you and me. Especially this beauty right her. Hey, Rocco, wanna come over the TetherKeeper, he has cookies.”

“Daphrous, I am not alive. Rocco is not alive. And I do not have cookies.”

“Shh, I’m working here. Be a good wingman. Come on Rocco, it’s a party in the cargo hull. TK has everything you want. See them tumbling down. Drifting along… TetherKeeper start the retrieval, Rocco is a party animal, he has the best shit …with the tumbling tumbleweed.”

“I would hate you if I could experience that emotion.”

“Except I have a 20% higher efficiency rating than any other claim jumper you have ever worked with.”

“Affirmative. Item for inquiry queue: Recalculation efficiency including impact of singing on team functioning and morale.”

“I could start singing to you to.”

“Please do not do that Daphrous.”

“Are you sure? Because I got dozens of songs about beautiful ships and robots.”

“I am sure. Mineral analysis done. Expected value on Gamma-C future’s market is 15-ZedMuff credits.”

“That is good, right?”

“It increases your lifetime efficiency rating by 3%.” The ship’s AI paused before adding. “You may continue singing to the rocks.”

(words 323; first published 11/24/2023)

Book Review: There is No Wheel

Erin Penn

Amazon Cover

There is No Wheel by James Maxey

AMAZON BOOK BLURB

A shark swims through a kitchen. A biology teacher dumps a dead angel onto his grandmother’s dining room table. A billion bees swarm the Empire State Building. In an empty attic, a teapot filled with lizards reaches a boil. Everything is understood when a small town sheriff bites into an eyeball. These are the scenes that draw you into the world of James Maxey. Good luck on finding your way back out.

James Maxey’s award winning short fiction has appeared in Asimov’s, Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, and over a dozen other magazines and anthologies. There is No Wheel collects his ten most critically acclaimed tales.

(See the full blurb at Amazon by clicking on “There is No Wheel” above. Each of the short stories gets a small breakdown. Since I reviewed each below, the review got a little long and I trimmed it here.)

 

MY REVIEW

A collection of ten of James Maxey’s short stories, “There is No Wheel” is alternately uncomfortable, amazing, demented, inventive, twisted, and jaw-dropping. As the intro by Edmund Schubert, former editor of Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show states: “One thing about James: he pushes boundaries, and he pushes them hard. … James’s stories require a strong mind and strong stomach. They’re freaky weird and hauntingly honest at the same time.”

All the stories are complete, complicated, and crazy.

To the East, a Bright Star: “He should go on, leave her to her own devices. Except he hated people who thought like that…” This line – a gem – encapsulates the story about two very messed up people in a very messed up situation, types of people everyone else would look the other way when they see them, and holds out a moral as a shiny ruby – like a piece of gum on the bottom of the shoe in summer, sticking with you forever. For if ever there was a time to leave a person behind and never face consequences, the addict had it. He faced a choice between his own personal comfort, safety, and dreams, and saving someone else. 

Silent as Dust: Wasn’t sure until the end who was being haunted.

Final Flight of the Blue Bee: Sometimes heroes live long enough to be the villain. And some heroes don’t need to live very long to reach that point. 

Empire of Dreams and Miracles: Getting deeper into the collection, and the connection Mr. Maxey’s works have to reality get looser – and somehow more direct. For what is more direct than death and more unreal than it not having consequences, until, unexpectedly, it does.

Return to Sender: Crystal has been raised by monks with virtually no outside contact meets a home-school guy raised by religious extremists (snake handlers) while delivering pizza. Comparing backgrounds of isolation, indoctrination, and improbable information, she questions if she really is about to save the world or just kill a guy who owns some old books because the monks tell her to. And with Mr. Maxey you really don’t know where this is going to land.

Pentacle on His Forehead, Lizard on His Breath: Customer service is essential for return customers.

To Know All Things That Are In the Earth: That is … the weirdest and wildest post-rapture story I have ever read that still made sense. The least psychedelic story of the collection. Strangely – the more out-there the circumstances of the story, the more real Mr. Maxey makes his characters.

Echo of the Eye: Oh, um. Well, then. 

Where Their Worm Dieth Not: Another story about the consequences of death not having consequences, except when it does. Superhero version. Also a study of evil, judgement, and punishment.

Perhaps the Snail: An erotica with a moist large, one-muscle creature. A commentary on obsession. A study of rock lyrics. One, two or all three or something else entirely? I think I brought up the words demented and psychedelic before in this review while also saying Mr. Maxey writes full-bodied characters. Yeah.

Flash: Blue Jeans Guy

Erin Penn

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

Hmm. This virtual reality just got better. I wasn’t sure what I was getting when I picked up “Blue Jeans Guy” from the romance section. I mean, everyone KNOWS what they are getting from that portion of the romance section, but you never know if the AI … REALLY … understands your preferences when moving things into your recommended queue. “Red Hat Man” had been a disaster.

But Blue Jeans Guy, just what the doctor ordered, though I don’t think the Psych Doc shares memory storage with the Entertainment AI.

I guess they would, healthy mind starts with a happy mind and entertainment makes you happy.

Is he just going to stand there, fists ready to unsnap his jeans, a set of abs I want to climb like the Rockies?

(By the way, if you haven’t tried the Rockies Sim, and you like hiking and rock climbing, highly recommend – five stars. I don’t know if those towering monsters are real, but boy are they beautiful.)

As beautiful as this boy.

“Hey, do you want to take those off, or put on a shirt?” I ask the virtual.

Whatever you want sweetheart. It says back, the voice sounding distant.

Oh, crap. I’m still thinking too much. I haven’t fully immersed.

What can I say, it had been a rough day.

Reaching up in the VR suite, I tell it to drop some critical thinking blocker into the IV so I can better experience things. Can’t be too on my toes if I want to enjoy having them sucked.

(Quick check, no, Blue Jeans Guy is not set up for foot fetish. Drat.)

“I would like them off big guy.” I lean back on … I look around … a bed covered in pillows. Soft as a dream. Literally.

The author programmed the pillows for a pretty good mix of colors…oooo, nice colors, the fabric just went from soft to exquisite.

I look over at the man in the bedroom with me.

“Hey hon.” I crawl to the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

He approaches, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks.

Good, I love a man in bare feet.

I spend too much time in clothes and shoes … and I don’t need to be thinking about that with … “Hey hon, you got a name,” I say, gripping his shoulders as I kneel tall on the mattress to start tasting his neck.

“What sort of name do you like?”

Ah, hell no. I hate it when someone is lazy programming and doesn’t bother supplying a name.

“Whatever you want hon.” I draw his face over for a quick kiss. “Be imaginative. I need something real today.”

The virtual freeze, his eyes glazing over. Well, on a normal human the eyes stopping tracking and the face not moving would be considered a glaze over, here it just means processing. Basic writing should be able to search for a name with the parameters I just gave, if the writer had any skill.

One time a blue circle appeared, replacing the face. I exited that VR so fast, electrons burned. I told the algorithm never to send me anything by that author again.

“Randy.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?” I say dryly.

“Randall.”

“Better, I can work with that.”

I reach for his pants and unsnap them.

“I rather you work with this.” He takes my hand inside his pants.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to work with everything you got.” I start falling backwards on the sheets, pulling Randall the Blue Jeans Guy with me. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you Officer Bahn.”

“Sh, sh.” I press my finger against his generous lips. “In the bedroom, I’m K.B., think you can handle that?”

“Yes.” He cups my breast, his mouth covers my nipple, causing me to arch into the sensation.

It seems I’m already naked. Okay then.

(words 650; first published 11/22/2023 – created during two ten-minute writing sprints (then a proofing pass) – total actual time about an hour including upload)

Flash: Toleration (Fence Post Part 2)

Erin Penn

Photo by Hal Gatewood on Unsplash

The crowd pulled back, like water from a stone, when Malik landed on the sand near the queue to enter the Primary’s sector. As he walked through the line toward Noor, the line parted then immediately reformed. No one wanted to be late or be noticed.

Silver-trim passed through the guard post without incident as the more attentive guards shifted their focus to backing up the Bird’s Eye Sentinel.

“Noor, Noor.” Malik tisked.

The street sweeper slowed to a halt, dropping his eyes to Malik’s mechanical legs. “Sir, I can explain.”

“Three times this month.” Malik shook his head. “Three times.”

“We have a new baby,” the man blurted out.

“Your second daughter had a baby, you did not. Your wife did not.” Malik kept his back to the line, noting blue-shoes had returned after a four-day absence. Today might be the day. Blue-shoes always carried herself with an aura of power under her burka. “Your son-in-law has not been late, your wife promptly checks through daily, your daughter has been attentive to her reduced obligations without issue. Only you cannot keep to a schedule.” Malik bent forward to speak beside Noor’s ear, “Why is that?”

He drew back to study Noor. Sweat dripped from the man’s ragged haircut, black eyes rose then dropped again to the hardened dirt path at their feet.

“One would think you might have a stop between your quarters and here. A distraction, maybe? An … intrigue?”

“No, no!” Noor raised his hands in protest.

Malik stepped back, dropping his hand to his weapon.

As soon as Noor realized his error, he fell to his knees, clasping his hands together as though in prayer, though he only faced Primary’s sector entrance number three, not Mecca. “Please, no. I just can’t sleep when the baby is crying. He cries so loud. We only have two rooms in our quarters. So little sleep, it is hard to get up in the morning. I slept past the alarm.” Noor groveled into the dirt. “Please, please. I am doing nothing wrong. Nothing. Please.”

“Three times, Noor.” Malik growled low and hard.

“I know. I know. I am sorry.”

“There cannot be a fourth.”

“There won’t. There won’t. I promise.”

“When shift change is over, I will be investigating.”

“I understand. Thank you.” Noor looked up, tears streamed through the dust on his face. “Thank you. I will call my daughter to let her know you will be visiting. Thank you. You are most generous. May Allah bless you.”

“Go.” Malik waved Noor to the end of the nearly cleared line.

He tapped a note into the cyber replacement lower half of his left arm, recording the incident. Maybe it wasn’t fair of him to pick out Noor for a distraction, but the man fit all the noticeable criteria Malik’s superiors wanted monitored. Beside Noor was a Rachk, and they weren’t ever trusted. At least that is what Malik’s grandfather taught his father and his father taught him.

Just a personal bonus. Something to make life a bit more tolerable.

(words 510; first published 9/26/2022 – Part of the experiment to expand the Facebook visuals to 500 words)

Fence Post Series

  1. Fence Post (3/28/2021)
  2. Toleration (5/2/2021)