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Challenge #00640 - A275: One Fine Evening in a Filthy Spaceport Bar

We believe that the universe itself is conscious in a way that we can never truly understand. It is engaged in a search for meaning. So it breaks itself apart, investing its own consciousness in every form of life. We are the universe trying to understand itself.- Delenn, Babylon 5

“Well that doesn’t make sense,” said Hwell. He, too, was propping up a bar and ingesting something bad for him. “Humans, we all well know, are insane. Lots of them spend their entire lives in a bubble of ignorance that they made for themselves.”

“Well, yes,” said the other human. “That’s what I’m trying to work out. Is it the universe compartmentalising? Is that why there are so many human colonies? Is the universe going mad?”

Hwell glared at the man. “Someone’s going to have to rock me to sleep, tonight. Thanks for that.”

“Self-awareness is a bitch,” shrugged the other human. “Sorry.”

“Shoulda never got involved in religion or politics…” Hwell mumbled into his pint. “Here’s one - how about all this effort’s made the universe go bonkers or given it cancer or something? We’re a tumour.”

The other human glared back and delivered a flat and snarky, “Thanks.”

Hwell chuckled. “Gotta give as good as you get.”

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Challenge #00639 - A274: An Axe to Grind

It was distressing how many problems a good murder could solve.

[AN: According to the doctors, I am now officially fine. According to me, there is still a tightness in my throat that I am going to see my doctor about]

Too many arseholes in the world. Far too many. But if one could select an arsehole to excise from reality… If you could pick the ones who were most to blame for the current, sordid state of reality…

If you could pick off the ones who made their wealth from others’ pain…

Ah, but those are the ones with the most security. They’re the ones who isolate themselves in armour-plated ivory towers. The ones who think they’re safe.

But they still let people like me in. To clean for them. To dress their hair or do their makeup or their nails. To ensure that their life of leisure is never besmirched by a mote out of place.

They trust people like me.

More fool them.

It’s an easy thing, to come in when expected. Easier still to find some expensive treat and add a little extra touch.

A virus here. A pathogen there. A little arsenic for old time’s sake. Never the same way twice. Never working for the same company twice. Sometimes it’s advantageous to be so poor that one can only ever get temp work.

And one by one they fall. While invisible me carries on as always. Weeding out the true scum of the earth.

One rich asshole at a time.

Sooner or later, the money will go to someone who wants to do good with it. All I have to do is bide my time, weigh them up and, once I have found them wanting… administer justice.

All the others want to be caught because they know they’re doing something bad. Most of these arseholes? Nobody will miss what they do very much. Nobody really cares. Not about them.

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Challenge #00638 - A273: Capitalism

It’s like selling people a gold nugget, then a silver nugget with gold covering, then you get a copper one with gold covering, the next version they sell you a iron Nugget with gold paint before selling you a glass marble calling it the ‘next big thing’.

“It’s all about makin’ stuff faster and cheaper, but no’ necessarily better. It’s about convincin’ the customers that faster an’ cheaper is better, ye ken. But never dropping’ the price tae how much it costs tae make.”

The assembled cogniscents stared.

A lizard tentatively raised her hand. “Sir?”

“Aye?” said Shayde. The ‘sir’ still irked her, but everyone superior got 'sir’ regardless of gender, so she did her utmost to shut up about it.

“You’ve just described standard business practices on all of the extant Greater Deregulations.”

“Aw Gawd, it’s still alive…” muttered Shayde. “Have they figured out why they cannae convince all o’ ye tae buy their shit?”

“No, but they are trying to bribe the officials they believe are responsible.”

“And complaining about it at every Ambassadorial Meet.”

Shayde groaned. “I’m no’ goin’ tae be looking’ forward tae tha’…”

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Challenge #00637 - A272: But the Cat Came Back…

…and the cat is still not allowed into the tea room because he’s convinced that somewhere there is catnip if he can only destroy enough to get at it.

“Whsk!” Pattie aimed a spray at the incoming Skitty. “Ffffft! HSSSSS!”

“Ma'am,” said Officer Marken. “I’m afraid it’s against station regulations to interfere with a Skitty’s duties.” She already had the digipad out and was taking notes.

“I know,” said Pattie. “But it’s the tea. They keep smashing the containers. They keep smashing the crockery! We can’t afford the Reboundables… not with all the breakages… Our only hope is keeping the cats out…”

“They’re hunting for vermin, Miss Newtrio.”

“They’re hunting for catnip, Officer Marken… and we don’t have any. We never had any. If I let them do what they want… we’re ruined…”

Lyr Marken sighed. “I’ll see if I can arrange something with the Britanian and the Xin'hua embassies. Neither of those empires want to see tea going to waste.”

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Get your free copy of Interview Inside a Terrarium now!

Celebrate my birthday with a free short story, or share it with your loved ones for All Hallows’ Read.

And give me the birthday gift of more writing prompts. because I am running low.

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Challenge #00636 - A271:

They’ll get along like a house on fire, in the sense that there will be significant property damage and possible casualties.

He was looking for allies and none of the bigger interests had any interests in his interests. And his Lizard guide wasn’t much help.

“You may try Ambassador for Nineteen Eighty-Six, Shayde Pitt. I predict you will get along like a house on fire.”

“I’ll teach ya how to talk proper yet,” he grinned. These lizards tended to take everything way too literally. He put on his best smile and sauntered over to the alien-looking lady.

He didn’t like the way she was sizing him up. Like she could see right through him in a cold second.

He felt like he had parsley in his ears.

Sparkle, sparkle. He ramped up his outward congeniality and tried to look handsome.

Then he said the one thing guaranteed to grab her ire. “Hey there, little lady…”

*

“I tried to warn him,” said Ju'shek. “I said he and you would get along like a house on fire.”

“Flames, screaming, and property damage, aye,” said Shayde. “Maybe ye should'nae use metaphors, ye ken.”

Ju'shek wrung her hands. “Many, many apologies…”

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Challenge #00635 - A270: The Horrors of Attempted Time Travel

“Your body is your temple. Plunder it.”

Three pieces of good news.

One: He was smarter than the people who had sent him here. And there was no way in hell that he was going to U-turn around into a suicide mission.

Two: The planet that read as habitable actually was habitable.

Three: The people who sent him on this wild flight to meddle with the course of history had sent along all kinds of laboratory equipment and information in order to deal with every situation.

Including a clone lab and brain-pattern recorder.

The bad news? He was the only genetic sample.

The really bad news? Earth was calling to find out what had gone wrong with the mission.

He sabotaged his ship enough to make it look like he’d crashed and failed and set to work. He had a world to build. Starting with a small community made of him.

And the ultimate bad news… all the protein on this planet was toxic.

Which meant he had to eat cultured tissue. And he was the only genetic sample that he had.

*

“We eat of the Allfather and remember. We owe our existence to one monumental act of unlistening, unrelenting, wilful ignorance.”

“Think all things through,” said the clones. Almost-clones. The Alllfather had done his best with what he had, but genetic variance could only go so far. All of them, women and men, could not breed in what other cogniscents call the ‘traditional way’.

“And remember, also, the words we are to deliver to the Unthinkers.”

Now the multitude at the remembrance ceremony shouted at the top of their lungs, “ERICH VON DÄNIKEN CAN SUCK IT!”

“Three thousand years ago, the Allfather was sent out to create a better world. He knew that the Unthinkers sent him to his death.”

The ministers at the grill began to hand out sliders to the multitude with, “Flesh of the Allfather…”

“When they come to ask of their better world we shall say unto them,”

They all chorused, “We made it here.”

Revenge, as they say, is a dish best served cold. For Adam Fydeus, that revenge was about to be served at below zero degrees Kelvin.

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Challenge #00634 - A269: Space Madness

“Kitty, fire starboard weapons”
“Miaou”
“No Kitty, don’t play with the yarn, fire the weapons”

From the Wikipedia Galactica: Space Madness, as it is commonly known, is not, in fact, a mental imbalance caused by being in space. It is well known that cogniscents of all kinds need certain things in order to prosper, both physically and mentally. The isolation of solo missions does, of course, engender ramifications

“Status report, Lieutenant Tibbles.”

The black-and-white cat, known officially as merely Tibbles, looked up from her basket and made a “mrrrrrrrrp?” noise.

Blakely checked the indicator board in passing to feed the cat. “Safe sound and secure. Words I like to hear, Lieutenant. There’ll be a commendation on your record.”

The cat didn’t care about commendations. She fell on her food like she’d been starved in the six hours since she’d last eaten.

“Yes, it looks like smooth—” Another indicator light started flashing. “Incoming! We have an incoming bogey vector five zero niner by four foxtrot tango. Man the guns!”

Tibbles, being a cat, began playing with a loose cable.

“OFFICER! Man your station!”

Tibbles ran for the closest hidey-hole.

“INSUBORDINATION! MUTINY! I’LL SEE YOU HANG FROM THE HIGHEST YARDARM!”

Doctor Dobelina paused the security playback. She kept her voice low and comforting. “Do you remember this incident, Miss Blakely?”

“Yes… but… not like that. My pickup ship was the enemy. Tibbles was… I think she was a Meeyahndan or… or some kind of humanoid Cat. Is she okay?”

“Tibbles is being spoiled rotten by your family.”

Blakely visibly relaxed. “Oh good. I was afraid I’d hurt her. There were dreams… they were so real…”

“The nature of reality is often subjective,” soothed Doctor Dobelina. “However, most of us prefer the version confirmed by others.”

“I’m never going out alone again, am I?”

“It… wouldn’t be advisable,” allowed the doctor.

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Challenge #00633 - A268: Boundless Realms of Ignorance

To sing when anti-science protestors of whatever stripe are around:

Ev’ry banana you eat / has been genetically engineered / and is a radioactive clone.

There were simultaneous protests outside the administrative building. Some protestors, with a foot in each camp, had evolved revolving signs.

“Bible bashers,” Sylvia shook her head. One side of a sign she was watching quoted the bible about natural foods, and the other screamed about teaching creationism. She had a wicked idea and ducked into her laboratory greenhouse.

Edna followed her. “What are you up to? You’re not going to bomb them with dyed smoke again, are you?”

“No. I’m just going to give them a material lesson… Ah! There they are.”

It was a green oblong that looked much like a cucumber with warts. Sylvia cackled like a true mad scientist as she made her way outside to the protestors.

“Sylvia…” Edna warned. “That’s not a new sample, is it?”

“No, no, no. It’s old as dirt. Promise.” It took her five minutes to force her face into Press Conference Formality, at which point she strode out to the protestor with the revolving sign.

“Stay away from me, you ungodly harlot!”

“Well at least I’m not wearing blended fabrics or eating ham,” she retorted. “Here’s a banana as God intended them.” She handed over the knobbly green thing. “Fresh from my garden.”

The protestor stared at it in disgust.

“Yum yum yum,” cooed Sylvia.

Alas, it didn’t work. People opposed to science are naturally inclined to disbelieve anyone in a white coat.

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Challenge #00632 - A267: Respect It

To quote Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 3 Scene 3, Line 87: No!

“Geez, why do you have to be such a bitch about it?”

Ugh. “Maybe because I had to tell you thirty times before you even heard a real ‘no’? Maybe because my wants and needs aren’t relevant to you? Maybe because the first thing that came out of your mouth when I told you I was bisexual was ‘threesome’? Maybe it’s because you’re as aesthetically pleasing as month-old mozzarella that’s been left in the sun for three months? Maybe it’s because you smell like that, too? But really, when you get down to it? It’s because you don’t fucking listen.”

He stared at her in piggy incomprehension. “You know, if you’re on your rag, just tell me.”

“It’s men like you who give men a bad reputation, did you know that?”

“Come on. It’s not like I’m asking you to fuck me or something… Just a coffee.”

“The closest we’re getting to going to get a coffee is if I throw some of mine in your face. I don’t want you breathing my air. Go away.” She re-enforced her point with her stun gun.

“Jesus. Who told you I was interested? I was just trying to compliment your fat ugly ass. Bulldyke.”

Jessica sighed in relief and continued on her way to meet her girlfriend. The sooner they had a tag-and-release system for those pathetic specimens, the better.

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