Take a deep breath.
Smell the gym.
It’s a different smell than anywhere else.
Get on the scale.
Get in the ring.
Get these gloves on.
Now open your mouth so we can swab your cheek and put in this mouthguard.
What’s the swab for? Painkillers?
No. It’s for DNA.
The league wants us to clone you.
That way, your opponent can have you as a sparring partner to train against.
And you can have him.
That way, you’ll both be ready and give a good fight.
Better than the last one, where you got your ass killed.
Literally.
*DING*
Tag: science fiction
Mr. Eight Ball
Captain Infinity signed for the package, closed the door, and went into the kitchen for a boxcutter.
When he finally pulled out his new costume, he was horrified.
Black jumpsuit, white circle on the chest, and a golden 8 in the circle.
He dialed the customer service number on the invoice, and wasted the next 2 hours getting the run-around with the costume manufacturer and his credit card company.
The replacement wouldn’t arrive for two weeks.
He sighed, put on the costume, and met with the Avengers.
“Are we behind the Eight Ball today?” Iron Man sneered.
Captain Infinity fumed.
Turn
I’m out in my workshop, tinkering with junk I’ve scavenged.
It took a while, but I think I have this old radio fixed.
I plug it in to the solar battery array, flip the switch, and the tubes begin to glow.
So beautiful.
I slowly turn the knob, and the empty frequencies swirl and crackle with the random almost-nonsense of static.
Something pops.
Wait. Was that a voice?
I turn the dial back.
Nothing.
I keep my eyes closed, listening… searching…
No voices. No music. No recorded messages.
I turn it off.
Am I the last man alive?
God forbid.
Which came first?
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Does it matter? Do we need to go over this again?
Fine. It was neither.
That’s right. Neither the chicken nor the egg came first.
It was the flying saucers.
They landed, aliens came out, and then looked around for a while.
The flying saucers took off, but they left a bunch of stuff, like crystal skulls, eggs, and chickens.
The crystal skulls mutated the eggs so they hatched all the different forms of life, like horses and monkeys and people.
There’s your answer.
Oh, and I’ll take my horse eggs scrambled.
Resource
The company handbook says that their most important resource is their employees.
Bullshit. When you work for SolarNet Energy, the most precious resource is the orbiting array of reflectors and collectors.
If there’s a choice between you and the array…
Let me rephrase that. There is no choice. We protect the array at any cost.
Any cost.
The previous CEO of the company wanted a ribbon-cutting ceremony.
I said “Dumb idea.”
She insisted. And she accidentally started an electron cascade reaction.
After they pulled out her charred corpse and fixed the grid, I said “Well done, guys. Flip the switch.”
Smithereens
The kids built an airship, rigging bicycles and peach-crates to a massive solar-heated airbag with a lightweight steering and ballast system.
After a few test flights and an inspection by the county engineer, I gave them permission to take it to school.
“Check the forecast,” I said. “If there’s any chance of rain, you’re taking the bus or walking.”
They used to ride their bikes, but those were now a part of the airship.
Pedaling quickly, they rise into the air gracefully.
That’s when I see their bookbags still on the porch.
Little scamps!
I run for a dangling tether-rope.
The Billionaire
Once upon a time, there was a billionaire who loved wine.
He bought every kind, forever seeking the perfect wine.
He also owned priceless books about wine.
One contain legends of a monastery that produced the best wine ever made.
So, in a hill behind his castle, he recreated the monastery, the winery, the grapes, and the monks.
(With enough money, you can clone anything.)
They made this perfect wine for him.
They were kept faithful with a simple book of rules, and aside from some accidents, they were content to make his wine.
He toasted to their health.
“Cheers.”
The Wine
The brotherhood spent their days following their book of answers, growing grapes and producing wine.
They’d roll the casks into a nearby cave to age.
Brother Timothy thought back as far as he could remember.
Where did the barrels come from? He couldn’t remember any deliveries from the village.
Or where the village was.
Was there a village at all?
He looked around the valley. Just a river, trees, vineyards, and the brotherhood.
And the caves.
Maybe they re-used the wine casks?
Had they ever removed the casks or bottled the wine?
Where did it go?
The book said nothing.
The Well
The well has run dry.
Father William consults the book.
“When the well runs dry, dig another well.”
We get out our augers and shovels, and we begin to dig.
Just as we empty our last rain barrel, the brothers in the well shout.
“We have struck water!”
I sit by the river and scratch my head.
Why do we not use the river? The water is clean and fresh.
Father William points to the book. “It says not to use the river.”
For this, he commanded that my unholy tongue be torn out.
I watch the river flow past.
Brother Judas
There is always one unoccupied cot in the brotherhood dormitory.
Father Timothy tells us of Brother Judas.
“He was once one of us,” he says. “But, one night, he left and never came back.”
Why would a brother leave when there is wine to press, prayers to pray, and the book for all the answers?
That night, I do not sleep.
I look at Brother Judas’ cot. His robe and sandals are under it.
They have never been used.
There are no extra bowls or tools for Judas.
No desk. No scrolls. No chair.
Did he ever exist at all?