Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts

Friday, March 27, 2026

Microstory 2635: Taking Out the Trash

Generated by AIimagetoVideo.Pro, and Google Gemini Pro, powered by Lyria 3
It’s 2532 now. Mandica doesn’t know the exact date. She won’t connect to the local network until she’s off of the arkship. It has entered orbit around the planet of Castlebourne, and is beginning to transport cargo down to the surface using the primary space elevator. The rest of the trip went fine, and she didn’t run into any more problems. There was a weird lurch about a week ago, and she must have lost track of the relativity, because the whole thing took slightly longer than she was told, but it’s obviously all right now. The system didn’t tell her anything about another impact event, so she’s not going to worry about it. The only issue now is sneaking down without being detected. Every cargo container is being scanned and inspected. They have to do that to make sure that all the plants and animals are still alive. Unlike last time, when there was a certain level of trust that they didn’t load dead specimens, they’re gonna notice if Mandica is hiding amongst her timber wolf friends.
She didn’t join their pack, but they didn’t bother her while she was living amongst them either. She didn’t know if they were engineered to be more docile, evolved to be that way on their own, or if she just straight up didn’t understand the wolf-human relationship. They were pretty cool. She might even call some of them her friends. The bots never came by. Lab-grown raw meat occasionally appeared from strategically placed feeding bins. The wolves didn’t mind when she took a little bit for herself, and cooked it up. She thought she would be fine with the dayfruit, but she failed to grab a vital component for programming the flavor, so she was stuck with banana the whole time. The craziest part is that the fire detection system didn’t ever respond to her fires. She didn’t even think about that until her first one was already built and burning. She was so used to doing this out in the wild, it was second nature to her, so to speak.
Mandica has a plan now, and it’s time to execute it. She pats each one of her friends on the head to say goodbye. It’s not all of the wolves, just the ones she met when she first came here, but the other packs never paid any attention to her, and don’t feel left out. She felt safe in the timber wolf section, so she never ventured too far, but she did sneak out a time or two to plan her escape route. She knows exactly where to go. This ship really is apparently fully automated, but they could have commissioned a human crew, and they would have had everything they needed, including trashcans. More importantly, it’s equipped with trashbots. They’re meant to go around on their own, cleaning up people’s refuse, but this universe is full of redundancy. No high tier intelligence has to work unless they want the energy credits to travel or develop impactful projects, but if anyone ever does want a more conventional job, they can do just about anything they want. The automated systems meant to do it in their absence will be sidelined for them. The trashbot can be operated. Normally, the janitor would stay outside of the can, but the remote interface works just as well from the inside too.
Fortunately, since she appears to be the only living, breathing person here, the trashbot has never been used before, and is totally clean. It’s cramped, but she’ll only have to be in here for a few hours if she times it right. Animals need an elevator ride that goes slow so their eyeballs don’t pop out of their heads, but plants and equipment are a lot more forgiving. They can’t drop at maximum speed, but they don’t have to wait the full fifteen hours for a safer trip either. She’s watching the hallway on her remote, using the trashbot’s cameras. She passes a few other bots on her way to the gangway, and then also on the other side, on the elevator platform, but they completely ignore her. She was worried that they would be thrown off by an unscheduled trashbot wandering around on its own, but none of them was programmed to see it as a threat. She rolls onto the elevator just in time before the doors close.
The fall is rough because she is decidedly not a plant. But her suit is equipped with the right cocktail of drugs to make it easier. She’s on a sedative to keep her loose, a nociceptor inhibitor to chill her nerves, and a few other things she can’t remember right now because she can’t even form a complete sentence in her head. The sedative is precisely tailored to keep her awake enough to react to something bad if it comes up, but she still leans her head back and rests her eyes. It’s not the worst part. The drugs only kept her alive while she was falling. Now that she’s down on the surface, her body needs to be flushed of them so she can stay focused and stay moving. But there have been consequences from the trip that are just kicking in now. She’s dizzy, sluggish, and more than a little confused. She doesn’t really know where she is. This is a planet of domes. Everything is under a dome. There are literally tens of thousands of domes, and each one is unique. This one must be dedicated exclusively to the space elevator.
But she doesn’t know where to go. Shit, she doesn’t know anything. The grand opening was decades ago. People have been living here this whole time. They’ve been oriented, they’ve made some kind of government probably. What did she think, that she would land and immediately get a new life? What if they don’t like how she came to be here? Charter planets aren’t lawless, they’re just free to come up with their own laws, independent of the stellar neighborhood. This could be an oppressive dystopia by now, she really doesn’t know. She doesn’t know a goddamn thing. She’s so tired too. The suit gave her something to reverse the acute effects of the cocktail, but it doesn’t come with a stimulant. Does it have a stimulant? Where’s the stimulant? “Hey, Suit? Give me a stimmy. Stimmy. Is it called a stimmy? Are you called Suit? Answer me.”
Mandica wakes up in a bed, in her bra and panties. A man is sitting at a desk, his back to her. She looks around and spots the only plausible weapon within arms reach. It’s a pair of steampunk goggles. They’re...not going to be very helpful.
He turns. It’s Trilby. He hasn’t aged a day. “Hey. Welcome to Castlebourne.”
“You came with me?” she questions. “You were on the ship this whole time?”
He chuckles. “No. That was 112 years ago. I sent my consciousness here four years ago, looking to greet you. You have no idea what it took to figure out when the arkship would actually arrive. So I went back home, and back to work, and then took another vacation to return here a few months ago to make preparations.”
“Wait, it was only supposed to be 108 years. Why are we so late?”
“They moved,” he replies enigmatically.
“They moved...what?”
“The solar system. They moved the whole solar system. Your arkship was on the wrong vector, and had to be rerouted in the middle of the flight. I’m sure you felt it.”
She realizes that she’s narrowed her eyes at him. “I suppose I did. So it’s 2536?”
“It is,” he confirms. “Again, welcome to Castlebourne.”
She finally decides to relax. She trusts him. He got her here. “What preparations did you make?”
He smiles. “I can turn you invisible.”

Monday, November 25, 2024

Microstory 2286: Cathartic to Go Out Alone

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
I did a bad thing yesterday; I escaped. I left a note, and my phone was on my person at all times, but everyone was still worried about me. I knew they would be, but I wasn’t thinking about that at the time. I know it’s not the same thing, but my life has felt so stifling these days, like I’m on house arrest. I wanted to be free, so I took the car for a drive. I found a small cemetery pretty far outside of town, and just sat there on one of the stone benches in the freezing cold. I’ve always felt rather comfortable in cemeteries, probably because there usually aren’t very many other people around. They make most people sad at best, and uncomfortable at worst. I go there to think, but also to peruse the headstones. I like to see all the different designs that they carve into them, and to note how many are grouped in families. I have an obsession with time, as you know, so I also look for the oldest grave, and do mental math on people’s lifetimes. Sometimes it really is sad, like when the year of death is the same as the year of birth. It was cathartic to go out alone, even though I really wasn’t supposed to. I was feeling so trapped, but it was still wrong of me, and I received a proper scolding from my security firm. I’m just still not used to being so attached and dependent on others. I mean, that’s not really true, is it? My life has always been a mess. I’ve always relied on others. Too much, truthfully. Money was meant to change that about me, but it’s only made it worse. Man, if I can’t ever go back home, it might be worth it just to escape this world, and start over fresh somewhere else. What’s that, you say? My writing? How’s my writing going? Does it help? No. It’s a nothing burger, as the saying goes. I’m feeling very unmotivated to write anything; fact or fiction. I think I’m probably gonna give up again.

Friday, October 6, 2023

Microstory 1990: True to One’s Word

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software
Freeman 1: Hey, thanks for meeting me, man.
Reese: Yeah, no problem. It’s been a long time. What’s up?
Freeman 1: Well, this is sort of awkward.
Reese: Go ahead, dude. No judgments.
Freeman 1: Well, it’s just that...a few months ago, you became bonded to our group of freemen, and that was great. I mean, we don’t regret it. But since then, you haven’t really, ya know, fulfilled your obligations, you know? Like, we helped you find that escapee, and then you and Myka just disappeared. You changed your number?
Reese: Yeah, it was this legal thing. We’ve all kind of had to leave our old lives behind. I’m really sorry, though; that wasn’t cool.
Freeman 1: What exactly have you been up to? A few of the other freewomen are gone too, but they’re not dead; they still see their families. Honestly, we are all kind of worried about you, but you don’t look dead either.
Reese: You’re right, I screwed up. Uhh...I can’t tell you what we’ve been doing. We got in trouble with the government, so we’re working on that.
Freeman 1: You look free to me.
Reese: Different kind of trouble. Mixed up with them is probably a better way to put it.
Freeman 1: I see.
Reese: But I’m here now. Let’s bump phones so you can have my new number. Do you need anything today?
Freeman 1: *scratching the back of his neck* Actually we do. Well, I do.
Reese: Remember, I can’t do anything illegal for ya. Though, I think I may be able to skirt the rules for you now. I’m kind of in a better position than I was before. It’s all really complicated and weird.
Freeman 1: I’m glad to hear you say that, because it’s definitely on the outskirts.
Reese: Just ask, friend.
Freeman 1: I’m trying to buy a house. I...I got a girl pregnant, and I have to provide for them. The only job I could get pays pretty well, but it’s all under the table. That makes applying for a loan pretty difficult. I would get a different job, but no one wants to hire an ex-con, especially one who was locked up for aggravated assault and armed robbery. Big surprise, I know. I have a connection at the bank, but even he won’t just give me the loan outright. *pauses again*
Reese: What does he need?
Freeman 1: Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but by mixed up with the government, it’s pretty clear you’re saying that you’re employed by them, in some different capacity than before. You don’t have to tell me what it is, but it would really help me out if you could pose as my employer. Just say I bring you coffee or dry-cleaning, that would be enough. It just has to be from a reputable company. I dunno, is this even possible?
Reese: What do you do for a living? Are you fulfilled? Are you being exploited?
Freeman 1: Courier work. No. And probably.
Reese: Let me make a call. Let’s not fake a job. Let’s get you a real one.