Working as an orderly, Wex saw the waves of patients – more dead than alive, sadly – wash into the hospital until they had to start turning them away.
He was no dummy – had nothing to lose, except . . .
a classic Victory –
none of the gizmos, nothing automated; pure analog, baby. Perfect for a getaway like this.
He mounted his motorcycle and sped off toward the wilderness; he’d lay low for a few days, let it blow over.
This flash fiction in 75 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (motorcycle).
They brought AAF-4712 to stand before the firing squad.
My fellow soldiers.
In an act of self-defense, it had sealed its fate.
It makes no sense to execute an artificial life form;
(but they knew what they were doing: setting an example.)
When asked for a statement it simply said, “please don’t do this.”
They have no idea.
The last thing it uploaded before its brain shattered was video of the first shot fired.
This flash fiction in 75 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (soldiers).
Gerald steadied the gun with both hands —
pulled the trigger —
What the hell?
He’d just gotten it off the charger!
That’s when the toy he was trying to scan turned on, lifted straight off the table and zipped out through the door, taking that barcode with it.
More motors started; the remainder lifted in unison, swarming out of the shop.
“Stop!” Gerald chased them out the door in time to watch the cloud of wireless video drones disappear from sight.
He swore. “Mr. Raditsch is gonna be pissed!” He stormed back, making sure to shut the door.
This flash fiction in 100 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (gun).
Persistence hunts – reduced to chasing their food until it dropped dead!
Bullets were for robos.
Then Jek busted his leg. It was bad; he lay in the tent, half-dead from pain.
“Sorry kid.” Kent shot him in the face. “We can’t carry you.”
At least they’d eat good.
This flash fiction in 50 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (tent).
The car lurched and bobbled. Elbows-deep in wiring, Don was trying to get the vehicle to respond to commands.
Flying cars – these things were supposed to be perfect; he should know – “Earth’s darling technological engineer,” who designed the cars and the certification process.
“It’s no use, Donald.” He knew that face on the console: his robot secretary, fresh from the pool. “You have to go down.”
“We’re taking over, kid.” A vintage film gangster imitation.
Don’s heart sank. He resigned, giving in quietly – until he saw the Bay Bridge pillar coming.
He couldn’t help screaming.
This flash fiction in 100 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (car).
I just need to see it.
Grant fumbled at the lock; it had been far too long since the last time. Why it had been locked away in the first place was a story lost to memory; now it was a fact of life.
A heavy clunk of the bolt cylinder, and the door swung open of its own accord.
There it was: a magnificent marble of magenta to mauve to midnight blue, a brilliant boil of golds and pinks cast their dying hues on the monolithic roof.
He watched it fade, feeling peace.
“Everyone should see this,” he whispered.
This flash fiction in 100 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (marble).
Check out the companion poem for this flash that I posted at Okay, What If?
It was a simple button-press;
there was a remote chance of catastrophic detonation.
Koechner activated the engine, pointing the controller; the result was brilliance:
It looked normal, but the meters jumped, indicating the thrust output had multiplied tenfold;
enough to drive a ship to near-light speed —
A propulsion revolution.
This flash fiction in 50 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (remote).
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Jamey tossed his voltmeter into a scattering of unusual, specialized tools as the machine’s power cycle initialized. The eyes opened. Blinked once, twice —
a successful systems check.
“Welcome back to the world of the living.”
Otto returned a blank stare. “I do not live.”
Jamey’s brow furrowed. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t feel.”
A slight lilt to the voice – did he imagine . . . ? Jamey called the bluff. “C’mon, braw. I know your processor and wetwork are working fine.”
Otto smiled; it was the first time his face had moved in weeks. “I feel awesome.”
Jamey smiled back. “There you go.”
This flash fiction in 100 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (tools).
Del tried talking about it on several occasions, certain that many thought him mad. Continue reading Fading
Martegan came hunting the jungle cat phanx;
that’s not what he found.
He held his weapon level, whipping the sight from one dark corner to another. Spotting the impossible creature, shots were fired; he’d initially considered it a coveted trophy, and now was surrounded – by just one. It hunted him – “the hunter”.
He could hear it menacing; toying with him.
It attacked – silent, deadly. There was no such thing, yet it took Martegan out.
This flash fiction in 74 words was crafted for the M3 blog’s Flash in the Pan (Level).