Tag: dystopia

Me And My HALO

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Before, there were gangs and shootings. You wouldn’t last a block without getting roughed up.
But now, it’s quiet and peaceful. Lot of folks out walking, saying hello to each other.
And smiling. That’s one thing I missed before the old days – I missed all the smiling.
Everybody’s an angel with a HALO over their heads.
In addition to suppressing violent tendencies, they’re great as portable light sources.
I’m walking to the corner store for a gallon of milk. Maybe some gum.
Have you fixed my HALO? I’d hate for it to glitch.
Those Sentries can be rough on Heathens.

Testing Sam

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Mommy took Sam to Sears for new mittens, but he saw video games and ran over to play with them.
Usually, Mommy came after him and scolded him not to run away.
Not this time.
The game was boring, so Sam went back to where he ran away from Mommy.
She… wasn’t there.
Sam tugged on a clerk’s sleeve. “I’m lost.”
They announced Sam’s name over the speaker.
An hour went by. Two.
Sam also gave them his address and phone number.
Disconnected. An empty lot.
From inside a coat display, Mommy watched.
And tried not to laugh too loudly.

Crosstown Rivals

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Smithtown and Ft. Rileysburg had a nasty crosstown rivalry.
Football games were bloodbaths.
Bake sales were bloodbaths.
Even the bathhouses were bloodbaths.
So when Smithtown hung a horse thief, Ft. Rileysburg had to go and hang two of them.
Smithtown hung three railroad men who didn’t tip well.
Ft. Rileysburg hung a barbershop quartet just for “dressing dapper.”
The hangings escalated, and pretty soon every lamp post had a corpse swinging from it.
Then… no more hangings.
It was time for a bake sale. Everyone ran to their kitchens.
Word of advice: avoid the Kidney Pie.
You’ll thank me later.

In Russia, The Hundred Breaks You!

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Night. Fog. Cold.
Where am I?
Wherever it is, I’m not in the best part of it.
Hungry, confused. Cell phone’s dead.
Ugly, dirty faces pass by. Almost feral.
Markings in… some strange language?
Is it language?
I feel in my back pocket, take out my wallet.
It is overflowing with one hundred dollar bills.
Hungry.
No restaurants around. Just shabby vending machines.
“Where can I get food?”
They grunt in… what language is that?
I walk up to a machine. I…
It only takes coins.
“Can you break-”
I stop. I see the knife.
This is when you run.

The Wormholy Land

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The official name of the technology is Geographic Phase Displacement, but it’s marketed as Phasics.
Got a land dispute? Just set up a Phasics engine, set the boundaries of the field, and now both parties can occupy the region at the same time.
The Nobel Prize for Physics went to its inventor, and then three years later the Peace Prize went to resolution of the ancient conflict over the Temple Mount and Haram Al-Sharif.
Phasics engines were spread throughout the territory, and refugees hopefully and joyously poured into the parallel Al-Quds pocket-reality.
Problem solved.
So, why isn’t the terrorism stopping?

Smell And Stop

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Arthur watched with pride as his daughter walked to the podium and led the congregation in prayer.
She’d been waiting all her life for this moment.
Arthur, too.
He pulled a rose from his pocket, sniffed it, and let the aroma fill his mind.
Time stopped.
Arthur strolled the pews, appreciating the delight on each face admiring his daughter’s recital.
Until… Elliot Laslo.
There were rumors about Elliot. And from how his hands sat in his lap… his expression…
Arthur returned to his seat, crushed the rose, and let time start back up.
He’d settle Elliot later. Probably brake lines.

Tough On Crime

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The mayor grimaced at the camera, rubbing his backside.
“Hello to all the citizens of our fair city,” he said. “I’d like a moment of your time.”
“We’re all aware of my campaign to put a camera on every streetcorner, but City Council decided not to adequately fund the necessary staff to monitor these cameras.”
For a moment, the attack came back to his memory. A camera panning to his battered body.
Then wagging a bit.
The motors sounded like laughter.
“Using prison labor to monitor them and dispatch officers was a mistake,” he said. “One that we’re correcting soon.”

The Dotted Line

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Diva Chandelier and the record company fought for years, but in the end her army of lawyers fell to the combined might of the entire music industry.
The facts were clear: she had defaulted on an exclusive billion-dollar ten album, five concert tour deal.
But what was worse was that she had taken to singing in public… for free.
“A contract is a contract,” said the judge from inside the record company’s pocket. “Judgement is for the plaintiff, the defendant will surrender her voice.”
Her last public statement before going into the clinic for forced cauterization was a profanity-laden curse.

NurseBot

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We needed nurses, so the NurseBot was rushed into production after a brief beta testing period.
Usually, these things would lock up in the middle of a shift, but there were other times you’d wish they’d lock up.
One of the more notorious screwups came when a NurseBot did its rounds backwards, dispensing medication in the wrong order down the ward, killing every patient.
Well, okay – except the one in the middle of the hall.
Sure, it was mass murder, but with a pleasant voice when it said “Here are your pills” and the sweetest silicone-rubber mask of a smile.

RMA

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Sentinel 0893671 took a bullet to the CPU during the Chicago Riots.
SecureTech thought the damage was superficial and changed out the armorplate. But when 0893671 was deployed after the declaration of the Detroit Caliphate, it had a difficult time following the Rules Of Engagement.
Remote diagnostics revealed the problem – a miniscule bridging of the optical, audio, and air sampling circuits the techs had overlooked.
The burning tires, angry mobs, and calls to arms from the minarets had overloaded the security unit.
As chaos surged around it, 0893671 watched the honey-scented angels, wings jingling like silver bells as they flapped.