Tag: sci-fi

It came through here

The town is a vista of abandon, a handful of desolate houses growing out of the red desert sand. Shards and shell casings crunching under my boots. An unhinged saloon door knocking about in the wind. The faint sound of a fiddle, mingled with the stench of decay, wafting over from the veranda of a sick house. I can’t make out the player anywhere, but I feel eyes on my back. At the southern end of town a white sheet with  flutters on the gable of a farmhouse, a memento of a wedding night I assume. I approach it, for it brings luck to touch the hem of such a relic while sending a short prayer heavenwards. As I come closer, I see those reddish spots are not bloodstains, but smeared red letters: It came through here. I fall into a fit of coughing and wipe my blood-speckled gloves on my poncho. I don’t have much time left. Before I leave the settlement behind I turn around to find multiple pairs of hollow eyes looking at me and the guns on my belt. One of them comes forward and places a few things in the sand: Some bullets, a scratched breathing mask and some kind of bone talisman. I accept their gifts, their plea, but the false hope that appears in their eyes makes me wish I had not. My mouth is too dry to speak and clear up their misconception. Without a word I turn around and march on.

Electrical Sentiments

I found her on a dumping ground on the northwest end of the city, a place you need a real good reason for to visit. She’s quite tall for what’s supposed to be a female. Her hair looked somehow vintage, I can’t explain why. Her clothing too – a sleeveless turquoise dress and tights with some gaudy floral pattern on them. Her whole appearance reminded me of some Hollywood icon of the mid-twentieth century. She’s an ORO7. Those robot-loving weirdos usually give them a nickname but I’m sticking with ORO7. I’m gonna treat her as what she is, an aggregation of electronic parts. The scruffy keeper of the dumping ground observed me closely as I pulled her soiled body out of the waste. A six-pack ring was entangled in her untidy hair, you know this stuff that causes ocean turtles to suffocate. She was switched on, I noticed with mild surprise. Her eyes blinked twice.

Continue reading “Electrical Sentiments” →

Resource Moon 16F

22.9.
I can’t believe I finally found some sheets of paper. How long had I been looking for this, how often had I given up the search again. There are enough writing tools here. The dowel, for example, the beautiful wooden dowel that lay on the threshold of the dining container a few weeks ago. It’s just an ordinary dowel for the pushers, but for me it’s the best quill I could hope for in a place like this. I’ve sharpened it with a metal part and now, as I write, my sore, shaky fingers curl around it like a salutary amulet. There are colors too, although our eyes no longer perceive them as such. Spilled lubricating oil, damp dirt, rust, blood. Colors of misery and suffering, colors nonetheless.