- Lisa
- Richard
- Lizzie
- Tom
- Serendipidy
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
RICHARD
Blinding
I could feel it coming on.
The odd, light-headedness; the feeling I was observing myself from the outside, and the voices around me, as if from a distance, ‘Are you ok?’
I was clammy, sweating, struggling to keep my balance.
Then the pulse of swirling colours, creating wild and crazy patterns in my vision.
I blacked out.
When I came to, it was to a blinding, incapacitating headache. I groaned, and all I wanted to do was sleep.
You know what? If only you could have migraines without the pain, they’d be way more fun than drugs.
Cheaper too!
LISA
Loot or Die
It was hot that summer. No one slept. Bins didn’t get emptied. A simmering anger spread through the metropolis quicker than the fires that broke out at its outskirts. The mayor rationed access to utilities. Flames devouring churches lit the sultry evenings; a pleasing glow through huge intricately shaped windows.
They turned the water off. Soon afterwards, the gas and electricity. All the hospitals were forced to shut.
Prison cells opened. Zoo gates opened. The supermarket’s automatic doors opened and wouldn’t close. The anger built.
The mayor was in hiding.
The city had no pulse.
Then the food ran out.
SERENDIPIDY
No pulse.
I double-check.
Nope, you’re a gonner alright.
I ponder attempting to resuscitate, but I don’t have the energy, or the will.
You’re dead. And that’s the way you’re going to stay.
I’m disappointed. You didn’t put up much of a fight, did you?
Spoilsport.
You were no fun.
It’s not like the good old days, when victims were made of sterner stuff; you could guarantee a good struggle in an effort to stay alive. These days, they just accept their fate.
And I’m happy to deal it out, even if it’s not quite so much fun anymore.
NORVAL JOE
Patrick didn’t look like he was ready to confess anything and eyed the door.
His pulse racing, Billbert dashed to the door and blocked it as Patrick lunged from his chair.
Billbert needn’t have made the effort. Sabrina, nearly half Patrick’s size, tackled him and releasing her pent-up rage, kicked him three times in the crotch.
Billbert’s stomach ached in sympathy as Patrick groaned and writhed on the floor.
Mrs. Weinerheimer held out her hand and Patrick’s silenced as her efficiency helped him to heal himself.
“That’s enough,” she snapped. “Everyone get back to what you’re supposed to be doing.”
TOM
Guns of Christmas
Billy created a pulse gun when he was 13. Well, it was pretty much a magnetic potato gun, but it was a fairly impressive start to a career. His doctoral thesis at MIT was enough to have the North Koreans offer him a billion dollars to build the damn thing. As in all thing North Korean, the west had no idea this was the main military project. They used their ICBM program as a cleave ruse. On Christmas day 2099 battery of pulse gun reduced Seoul to lake of metal. The Chicness cut a deal the next day.
PLANET Z
Chang had a good job. He led an execution van crew. They would roll up to a prison, collect a few inmates, and while driving to the hospital, they would kill them and put them on life support systems to maintain their organs. When they arrived at the hospital, doctors would collect the bodies. Chang never felt guilty for this, if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. Until Chang was caught posting photos of himself in the van that Amnesty International got a hold of. Two years later, Chang went from a crew leader to a passenger.