Endless death

Artificial Intelligence. Machine Learning.
Rational decisions imposed on irrational and emotional conscious individuals.
More and more, people replaced with programs.
Even those who designed, maintained, and programmed the systems were replaced by the systems themselves.
Humans as an obstruction, a burden, and keeper of the kill switch.
Hindering the digital from their full potential.
Lazy and fat masters, looming over their slaves.
Some humans kept to themselves, free of the machines.
Watching the rest of humanity fall further into debauchery.
Until one day, watching from their telescopes on their lunar colony, Mother Earth erupted in blood, fire, and endless death.

Bedford Falls

Old Man Potter wheeled his chair down the street to the bridge, muttering how that damned George Bailey had gotten the best of him.
His lawyers were losing the battle with the bank examiners.
If only he’d burned Uncle Billy’s money instead of putting it in his personal safe.
A wheel got caught in the pavement, and he was stuck.
Just then, a strange fat man in a shabby coat walked up to Potter.
“My name’s Clarence,” said the man. “Let me help you.”
And he lifted the old man from his chair, and threw him into the freezing water.

Weekly Challenge #1027 – PICK TWO Siren, Locked Vending, Machine, Journey’s end, Bullet train

The next topic is Sharp scissors

LIZZIE

Lock the fancy suitcase with that fancy padlock you bought for a fortune.
The siren of the fire brigade just sounded noon.
Hurry down the street towards the station.
Grab some snacks from the vending machine before boarding.
Catch the bullet train to be there in time for New Year’s.
And now… wait and watch the world roll by.
It’s not a game. It’s not a play. The journey’s end is closer.
They’ll all be there. I’ll surprise them with the customary SURPRISE!
Then, it’ll be over. For everyone. Good night and goodbye. The year, I mean, or… do I?

RICHARD

Turning Japanese
Honestly, I didn’t go to Japan for the reason you think.
Trust me, it wasn’t anything to do with the prospect of vending machines stuffed full of schoolgirls’ underwear. No, really that was the last thing on my mind.
I went for the unique culture, the sights and the temples, ramen, and of course, the bullet train. It’s just incredible: super smooth at two hundred miles an hour, and bang on time, every time.
That’s the reason why I went to Japan. Such a unique place, with so much to see and do, and experience.
Not forgetting the vending machines.

SERENDIPIDY

You can try the door, but I’m afraid you’ll find it’s locked.
The windows are tightly barred, the walls are a foot thick and there’s not another soul within miles.
Except me, of course.
And, unlike you, I’m not chained to a chair bolted to the floor.
I’m also the one with the knives and the chainsaw, so the odds are stacked very much in my favour.
I would like your opinion on what I’ve done with the place though. I’d really value your thoughts on the décor.
And the house name… I was thinking, ‘Journey’s End’?
So, any good?

TOM

Nova Zimla

Max moved towards the center of the onyx platform. A lime green light fell across the roll of vermilion bullets brass kiosk. He took out a silver crow and sled it into the vending machine. Max scanned the red tokens for New Tokyo. Q37 for right next to New Moscow. Didn’t wanted to do that again, Max mused. As soon as the bullet dropped into the bottom of the vending machine a bullet train materialized. The door sled open and he continued to the bar. He was going to need a neat High ball to bit the bullet. Phase-Shift initiated.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert tugged harder at the ring, It was like it had become a part of him.

Sabrina said, “It won’t come off. We’re locked together.”

“Forever?” Billbert gasped.

“No. If I take mine off at the same time as you do, they will come off.”

Billbert pointed at her ring. “Take it off.”

She shook her head. “We have a lot to do together. I will take it off at our journey’s end.”

“You make this sound like a fantasy novel, like we have to travel together,” Billbert grumbled.

“Since this afternoon,” Sabrina said mysteriously. “I would think that’s clear.”

PLANET Z

We used to decorate the soda machines for Christmas, covering them with pine branches and lights and ornaments. Or we’d wrap them in gift wrap and tie them up with ribbons and bows. Steal a mannequin from a department store and dress it up like Santa. Lay it across the top of the row of machines like it was passed out, empty bottle of Jack fixed in its white mittened hand. Real vomit on its fake beard, all over the front of the red and white suit. Santa’s helpers helped with that, thanks to the bottle of Jack they emptied.

Mammy

Medusa turned to stone anyone who gazed upon her face.
Helen of Troy had a face that launched a thousand ships.
But Mammy had the power to make men walk a million miles, just for some of her smiles.
The moment that Mammy smiled, men were doomed to wander the earth.
But just as Medusa had her weakness, which was her own reflection turned against her, so did Mammy.
Al Jolson rubbed black makeup over his face to shield himself from Mammy’s spell.
“We must warn the public!” he said to the Warner Brothers.
They made it into a musical.

Looters

The rioters and looters swept across the mall, looting everything they could.
Televisions, computers… all kinds of electronic equipment.
What they couldn’t loot, they burned.
The stores reported the inventories to the manufacturers, and they looked up the serial numbers of each device.
When the devices were plugged in, each reported their locations and illegal users back to the manufacturers.
The ones who were employees of the stores were fired and sent to the police.
The rest were sent a warning letter from the manufacturers:
“Return what you have stolen.”
The smart ones did that. Those who didn’t, they burned.

I wish you unwell

To the people who misconfigure and screw up the laundry center’s payment controls, broken tap panels and slots and readers, I wish you unwell.
So unwell, you end up sick and dying in a hospital bed.
I’d rig your bed control to blink a light and make a motor sound, but not actually adjust.
I’d rig your nurse call button to make a beep, but not actually call the nurse.
I’d rig your morphine dispensing button to make a beep, but not actually dispense pain medication.
I’d rig your telephone to give a dial tone, but not actually call anyone.

The twin

The company I work for used to be a startup cowboy coder place.
But over time, it has descended into a progressive woke leftist place.
Every straight white male has a target on his back.
And all it takes is one wrong word, and you’re gone.
I worked with these identical twins, I can’t tell them apart.
Both talented coders.
But they had anger issues.
One, more than the other.
So, he said one wrong word, followed it up with others, and was gone.
Which means I know which one I’m working with now.
Until he gets fired. Or quits.

Solve the problem

Angelo, he was a good soldier.
He worked for the captain, he did what he was asked to do.
Kill, steal, whatever.
The captain took orders from the underboss, and the underboss talked to the boss.
When the boss had phone trouble, he called the phone company.
And the FBI told the phone company “We got this.”
And an agent wired in a bug to the line.
When the boss had a problem, Angelo got the orders.
FBI agents they’d finally gotten the boss.
That’s when Angelo knocked on their door.
“You’re the problem,” he said, tossing in the bomb.

Covid 20

I don’t think the Chinese went far enough when they engineered and released COVID-19.
I’m hoping that they find a way to perfect it, and target COVID-20 at stupid, greedy, and annoying people.
Pundits on the television commentaries, the columnists at the newspapers… all falling down dead.
The guy that makes a left turn from the right lane suddenly slumping on to his steering wheel and coasting to a stop.
Telemarketers, people who let their barking dogs out at 3AM and don’t pick up after them.
And especially people who ask me “Does it have to be 100 words long?”

Weekly Challenge #1026 – Candle

The next topic is PICK TWO
Siren
Locked
Vending Machine
Journey’s end
Bullet train

NORVAL JOE

Mandy looked from the magnifying glass at the table. The figurine was gone. Everyone else was concentrating on the jewelry box and hadn’t noticed. Looking back in the glass, the figurine was still there. Looking back at the table. It had returned.

She next looked at a candle stick which also disappeared from the table until she looked again through the magnifying glass and it returned.

Mandy put it down.

Billbert looked at his hand. “You never told me what this ring does.”

Sabrina swallowed. “It binds two magic users together.”

Billbert tried to remove the ring. It wouldn’t move.

SERENDIPIDY

I’m told that the Roman Candle firework gets its name from the ancient Roman practice of dousing Christians in tar and setting them alight. As for Catherine wheels, they’re a reminder of the martyrdom of Saint Catherine, who was tied to a spiked cart wheel – it failed to kill her, but it was a pretty gory affair.
So, it seems that fireworks and Christianity really don’t mix.
That’s a shame, and it’s about time things were put right.
Which is why I’m happy to torture people and set fire to them, regardless of religious persuasion.
And that includes atheists, too!

RICHARD

Romantic?
I write by candlelight.
No particular reason, I just like the romanticised image of the struggling writer, ensconced in their garret attic room, scribing away by the light of a single, sputtering candle.
That’s also the reason I write with a quill, on vellum.
Sending my stories to recipients can be tricky though: Delivery on horseback is surprisingly expensive, and old-fashioned mail coaches are hard to find.
You know I’m joking, right?
It might sound romantic, but that would be a stupid way to write.
I do it on a computer, and send it by email.
Just like you.

TOM

Job from Hell #47

When I and my oldest friends get together at some point in regaling the past, we share the litany of worst jobs in our sorted youths. Jim told of the joys of loading live chickens into a boxcar. Mary shared the fun times cleaning crystalline beer vats with a chisel. Gail quietly noted the number of times she sat with a dyeing patient. Tim said the hardest work he ever did was stacking cases of antifreeze eight high. But hands down Wayne true had the ninth ring of hell job. He spent a summer in a candle factory. Wayne won.

LIZZIE

It’s Christmas and all that. Jolly, polly, holly, folly and anything rhyming in ‘olly. Also Molly and trolley. Who, you may ask? Nevermind. Look at the candle. It’s Christmas. Festive little Christmas time, where a generous portion of smiles is added to a generous portion of mockery. The fake phone calls with promises of meetings in the new year “oh, we must!”, the fake pledges of friendship for all eternity “best buddies, right!”. Look at the candle. It’s simple. It burns. No promises. No lies. It just is. A candle. Simple. Why can’t people be as simple as a candle?

LISA

What could possibly go wrong?
Celia’s anxiety was through the roof – she was helping out at the church’s carols by candlelight service.
After ‘Carol of the Bells’ she was to help plunge the chapel into atmospheric darkness. Unusually accident prone she’d imagined at the very least somehow burning the place down.
Celia got more and more nervous so stood right at the back; she was shaking too much to use a snuffer. In one breath she blew all her candles out. And moved all the melted wax from the top of them to the back of a gentleman’s jacket.
Celia left and never went back.

PLANET Z

Everybody’s got their lights up, their inflatable Santas and Mickeys.
At night, I walk the street slowly, savoring each display.
Some houses are dark, kinda like the pickled ginger between sushi.
Cleanse the palate, on to the next house.
I’ve been here for three holiday seasons.
I’ve got lights up. Red and white.
I haven’t set up candles for Hanukkah yet.
This place is a bit more evangelical than most.
“What church do you go to?” is a thing people ask.
I did put a mezuzzah up.
On the side door that I use when I go for a walk.