Not for the first time in his short life, Led Pappin wondered if he squandered away his youth. His education. The drudgery of his profession, one basically cast upon him at birth, again, had his mind wandering off on other…
Twenty-First Century Ag
Tag: Flash Fiction
Day-life Savings Time
“I bought a clock at a thrift store.” “You did what?” I responded to his statement. A statement that had no bearing on the question I asked him. “I bought a clock at the thrift store, then,” Mathew flashed that…
Variant CXXIV
“Jane, have they released the numbers from the last census?” I asked my wife as I checked the locks that secured our bunker. “There wasn’t a census,” she replied flatly. She sat in one of those collapsible chairs we used…
The Candy Man
We called him the “Candy Man.” The first time I saw him was just after we moved to south Minneapolis. He shuffled along the opposite side of E 50th St, from my parents’ house. It was summer, but the old…
Love Bytes
My smart phone pinged alerting me to the fact that I just received a text. It wasn’t just any alert; it was Marie’s special text alert I made just for her. Anything from her demanded my immediate attention. Thanks for…
Electric Oasis
When I was a young man, a cross country trip in your car meant short pit stops to refill and recharge. Hell, if my math is any good, most cars could go six hours without stopping. It was mother nature…
Into Nothing
As a scientist I have wondered about a lot of things, but never have I wondered what it would be like to be wholly conscious, but unable to move or speak. As strange as that may sound, it gets stranger.…
Autonomous = Out of a Job
“Technology is kind of a double-edged sword,” my buddy says to me via the CB radio. “How’s that?” I respond, after pulling the mike to my mouth, stretching the mini bungy chord that kept the microphone within easy reach. “That’s…
Not Fair
I was harvested three days ago. No one knew what to expect when one is harvested, because no one ever returns to earth after harvest. What we imagined was for the conditions to be deplorable, but we were wrong. Being…
Can’t Prove a Negative
So, I have this friend. His name is Garrett. Garrett fancies himself a writer, though his only source of income is as a truck driver. Garret writes, mostly science fiction, but I think I am the only one who reads…