Monday, April 13, 2015

Microstory 36: Questions or Comments

Late at night many years ago I was soaking in a bath when I noticed the label on the shampoo bottle. It had a phone number listed near the bottom for questions or comments. So I called the number. A young man named Sean answered the phone, evidently surprised to be getting a call. I got the impression that he had other things to do, and the phone usually just sat there...in case. I proceeded to tell him this fabricated story about being raised by wolves, and never having used shampoo before. I was excited to find that he knew that I was referencing a bit from stand-up comedian who was noting the irony in shampoo directions. We carried on a conversation for hours, segueing across multiple topics. We eventually discovered that we both had this unusual passion for research. We hated school, but we liked exploring and learning new things. He sounded relieved to be getting a break from the monotony of his job. Then things took a turn for him. His supervisor, who had started listening in on the call at some point, jumped in and asked me if there was anything else I needed help with. It was clear that if I wanted to talk about anything other than shampoo, I would have to look elsewhere. We hung up. The next morning, Sean called me from his home phone and admitted that he had memorized my phone number from the customer service management screen before being fired. We kept talking, and ultimately decided to go into business together. And today, we run one of the largest Question and Answer boards on the internet.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 25, 2018

Mateo fell asleep again after catching up with his parents. A lot had happened over the course of the year. They continued to make up stories about his adventures overseas. He had reportedly spent the bulk of his time in Africa, but had recently begun work in Central Asia. Kyle was released from the facility, but still received some care, and was not at 100%. Frida started a relationship with a man she met at Veterans Affairs. He was particularly helpful with providing her father with the medications and services that he needed. They didn’t think he would live to see Christmas, though.
In the morning, Mateo sent Frida a text message, asking for Leona’s address. He snuck out of the house to speak to her. His parents wanted to figure out what they were going to do about it together. She had been unrealistically receptive to their lies that he hadn’t really disappeared; that she had been dreaming, or even hallucinating. He didn’t know her at all, but something told him that she was faking her acceptance. He just didn’t know what she was planning to do with such information. She lived in the dorms of a college that was only about an hour away, having graduated from high school a semester early. His car had been repossessed by the bank during his first disappearance, so he stole his father’s truck and drove off.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said after opening the door. “My roommate is in class. We have plenty of time to talk.”
“What do you think you know?”
“I may be bad at math, but I can do simple arithmetic,” she explained. “You disappeared one day, and were reported back a year later. Then you weren’t seen for another year. And then another. And then one year ago I saw you pop out of existence in your living room. I’ve done my research. That’s called timeslipping. It’s when you travel through time but don’t use some kind of machine or device, and have no control of it. The fact that you return exactly one year later suggests either a superior intelligence, or this weak theory I have regarding the Earth’s revolution around the sun. Despite the solar year being one of our primary sources of mapping out and making sense of the cosmos, it has very little to do with the organization of the universe as a whole. The fact is that the most likely culprit responsible for your condition is an unfathomable entity, like God.”
“Wow. When you say you’ve done your research, you’re not lying.”
“You’re the reason I’m taking both physics and a religious studies course for my first semester.”
“You don’t have to do any of this, Leona. This isn’t your concern.”
“It’s going to take...” she started to say, “well, it’s going to take four days, but I will figure out how to explain this. I may not be able to stop it, but we will at least understand the physics.”
“Leona...”
“And in only three days, I won’t be too young for you, and you’ll be able to stop looking at me like a lost puppy dog.”
“But you just said it. Three days. This has been plaguing my parents for years, but it hasn’t even been a week for me. I don’t even know your last name.”
“It’s Delaney.”
“Right. That’s all I needed. Crash course on Leona Delaney. Now I tell you all my secrets, and let you waste four years of your life getting a degree in a field you’re not actually interested in.”
“I’ll study physics and philosophy if I want to. And you can do literally nothing about it.”
“We’ll never be together. And I think you know that. You may even like it. Being a hung up on a guy you can only see once a year. Pretty romantic. Like a fairytale. It ends only with your death. Don’t let yourself be alone when that happens.”
“If anyone else had said something like that to me, I would kick them out of my room. But I have 365 days to get over it, and only a few hours to see you. I’m not going to waste what little time we have. I don’t care how you feel about me, and I can’t help how I feel. Hell, you may wake up tomorrow and find me married to someone else. So what does it matter to you what I do now? You have an unavoidably distorted perspective of the world.”
He had no response.
“Great,” she continued. You wanna get some breakfast? I’ll tell you about how the apes have taken over the world, and how sea otters can talk now.” They spent the rest of the morning getting to know each other. It could have been incredibly awkward, but it wasn’t. She was refreshingly easy to talk to, and it was certainly a relief to have an open conversation with someone other than his parents. She talked about what the current president was doing, the latest celebrity nonsense, and the subtle advances in technology. Automated vehicles were gaining some heavy ground, with legislation already passed in the majority of states, allowing some level of hands-free driving.
Randall and Carol were not happy with his decision to handle the “problem of Leona” on his own. But they were most upset about losing half a day with him. They had a late lunch together, and invited Frida and her boyfriend over for dinner and games. It was a well-deserved break from all the drama. By having those two there, they were forced to pretend like their lives were perfectly normal. No timeslipping talk at the table.
Leona came over just after eleven o’clock and assured them of her kindhearted intentions. They had a late-night snack of ice cream, and stayed up talking until 11:58. They then hugged and said their goodbyes. Just before the strike of midnight, Leona planted a passionate kiss on Mateo’s lips. He was gone before he could react. One year later, he jumped back into the time stream, only to be quickly overwhelmed by a second kiss from her. Sneaky snake.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Siftens Landing Part III


Allison Siften was used to not getting her way. She was the eldest child in her family, but she was treated like she was invisible. She had always had the hardest time fitting into the dual-family dynamics. Truth is, she didn’t really like any of them. But then she met Kyle Kapka, the new neighbor boy who was only a couple years younger, and had this look on his face like he was an outcast as well. He was supposed to be her enemy, that much was clear. But she couldn’t help it. As they walked through the forest, she told him about their families; how they had lived there forever, and never wanted anyone else to move in. Kyle was listening intently, and was apparently about to reply, when Billy Lander appeared from behind a tree.
“What are you doing with him?” Billy asked accusingly.
“Leave us alone,” Allison retorted. Billy began his obsession with her a few years back. Being the only two families in the area sure made it seem like they were meant to be together.
They continued to argue, eventually transitioning to completely unrelated topics. Kyle began to inch away, not wanting to get involved. “Where do you think you’re going?” Billy yelled.
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you!” Billy lunged and attacked Kyle, clumsily throwing punches, only ever barely hitting the mark. Allison tried to separate them, but was unable to. Kyle giggled at the struggle until Billy managed to make contact in his left eye. That was enough for him. He shoved Billy back, knocking him into Allison. She yelped and tumbled down the hill. “Allison!” Billy cried. But she wasn’t moving.
Little Moe Lander appeared from the brush, holding a frog. “Allison?” he asked while trying to wake her up.
Billy slid down the hill, “is she alive?”
“I don’t know,” Moe replied.
Just then, there was an explosion behind them that shook the trees. Click here for the next installment...

Friday, April 10, 2015

Microstory 35: Cellar Door

In the entire universe, there are only two species. There are many different kinds of humans, some of them “originating” from their own planets. If you ever encounter someone you believe to be an alien, they’re probably just a descendant of a genetically altered human. These come in the form of subspecies (vampires, elves, etc.), tangent species (e.g. dragons), and superspecies (e.g. Martians). The only true alien in the universe is called the Slrdr, and they are a complete evolutionary mistake. God is human, and made us in her image. So how the Slrdr evolved is something we don’t quite understand. But the most interesting part about them is that there are eight genders.

The male and female copulate through a combination of both liquid and pheromone secretion, stimulation, and song. The male deposits his sperm into one opening of the carrier while the female deposits a brood of several hundred ova into the other opening. Most of the several hundred ova will form zygotes, but usually only eight will survive after absorbing other zygotes. The carrier consumes blood orally from the sustainer. The eggs develop over the course of a half year during which the male, female, and carrier will sing. The carrier lays a clutch of eight eggs into a mudflat nest. If there are more or less than eight eggs, a defect or mutation may have occurred. It is not necessarily a problem; any number of things could have happened. The fertilizer sprays a growth hormone onto the clutch. The determiner injects enzymes into each egg that will mix the genes, leading to each individual scion’s gender and general genetic configuration. Each litter will contain one of each gender. All six genetic parents will be accounted for in the genes of the young. The fertilizer and determiner share the responsibility of protecting and watering the nest while singing.

The eggs will hatch after a half year. The young, considered to be one year old, will crawl into the pouch of the marsupial, which gives antibodies and other immunity boosters through its nipples for one year while singing. Marsupials are the largest of the genders, capable of sustaining the lives of two litters (if need be), but only if they consume blood from the sustainer as well. After the scions are fully developed, they will consistently receive milk containing protein, calcium, and other nutrients from the nipples of the giver who will teach them how to sing. Scions begin eating regular adult food after one more year (when they’re three years old). Scions are raised by all of their parents, along with their respective spouses, for five more years during which they will sing together. At eight years of age, children begin more independent lives. The parents will move on to conceive more children. At sixteen years of age, the scions restart the cycle.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Microstory 34: Fate

Frank Williams was leading an incredibly mundane life. He had had the same job for ten years. He went to the same coffee shop every morning. He was a walking cliché. One random day, while waiting for his coffee order to be filled, a man wearing shorts and a robe walked up to him. “Are you the Frank Williams?” When Frank asked if they knew each other, the man explained,“you’re that famous model-turned-actor.”
“No, sorry. You have me confused with someone else.” But the stranger insisted that Frank was who he thought he was. He started ranting about presidents no one had heard of and Frank’s second wife, even though there wasn’t even a first wife. A woman, evidently the man’s sister, came in and pulled him away. She apologized and admitted that he was not well. A week later, Frank was in his coffee shop when a second man approached him, claiming to be a talent agent. He gave him his card and asked him if he had ever done any modeling. Could it be possible that the lunatic from before was from the future? Or some kind of psychic? Was it just a coincidence? Or were they all working together, intending to con him. Frank left and searched the web for the talent agent. He appeared to be completely legit, with verified tweets from celebrities and everything. While distracted by the biography on his site, Frank was hit by a garbage truck and died.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Microstory 33: Livewire (True Story III)

In third grade, I lived in the same town as my grandparents. Before that, we lived in a different state. After that, we moved about an hour away. My sister and I would spend a lot of time at their house, especially after school. One day, my grandfather and I were walking down 7th Street to get some ice cream. I hear some sort of loud noise and look up. An SUV is flipping over, twisting to its side, and crashing into a utility pole. A power line breaks away from its connection and swings down to the ground, landing about ten feet from us. It sparks and shakes around a bit. My grandfather shoots his arm out as a useless barrier between me and the wire, but we don’t move back from it. Looking back, I can’t imagine why we didn’t run. It quickly died and stayed in one place. I can recall only bits and pieces of what happened next. At some point we left, but I remember seeing the aftermath from the same vantage point the entire time. The man in the sedan opened his door and stuck his bleeding leg out while waiting for help. The two women in the SUV that had crashed into him and hit the pole had to be removed through the sunroof, and carried away using backboards. I distinctly remember thinking how lucky they were that their car even had a sunroof; and being sickened by the knowledge of an alternate reality where they didn’t, and died because the rescue took too long. I don’t think we ever discussed this with anyone afterwards. I can’t be sure we even ever told my parents. But I do think about it every once in a while, and mourn for the alternate reality where we left for ice cream five seconds earlier, only to suffer the wrath of that livewire.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Microstory 32: The Cop

There was a cop that I used to see, sitting in various speed traps, while I was out on my walks; the only exercise I would ever get.  We would speak for a few moments each time. I learned that he’d been on the job for the better part of a decade, had a son from a one-night stand, and was planning on proposing to his boyfriend. One day, I decided to walk straight east, towards Stateline, through a not-so-great neighborhood. Up ahead, I could see Officer Pender. Instead of sitting in his car, he was standing on the corner with his radar gun. I waved up to him, and as he smiled and waved back, I heard a pop from the left. Pender twisted a little from the force, but remained upright. A series of crackling noises followed; an automatic weapon sending him to the ground. A car screeched away and disappeared behind the hedges. I ran to Pender and reached out to him on instinct. It was obvious that many of the bullets landed in his vest, but there was still blood. At least a couple of them made contact. He was coughing and struggling to recover, and I tried to put pressure on the wounds but there were too many. I heard shuffling behind me. “Back away,” a man said. “This doesn’t involve you.” I could practically feel the gun pointed at my back while he continued to walk closer. I looked down to Officer Pender’s face. He was admiring the clouds sliding across the sky. He was losing too much blood, and the life was draining from him. I could only think that if I ran, he would die, and if I tried to talk the attacker down, I would be wasting precious time. The threat needed to be eliminated. Pender’s eyes darted over and met mine, as if he had heard my last thought. There was no time to argue. I pulled out his sidearm, spun around, and shot the attacker. He was close enough that it landed in his face. It was the first time I had fired a weapon, but it wasn’t my last. A year later, Officer Pender and I became partners.

Monday, April 6, 2015

Microstory 31: Burning

My phone rings in the middle of the night. Face firmly planted in the pillow, I flail my arm about, succeeding only in knocking my nightstand over. By the time I tumble out of bed and pull the phone from the rubble, I’ve missed the call. It’s dripping with orange soda, and damaged from the fall, with a cracked screen blinking in and out. I manage to select the voicemail, but it’s garbled and hard to hear. All I catch is something about a payphone on fifth, the word burning, and the word alone. At the end of the message, the phone basically explodes and sends a shock through my whole body. It dies, so I am unable to return the call, or contact emergency services, for that matter. My friend, Dave lives in the area mentioned, so I throw on my clothes and race out the door, worried that his house is on fire. I battle with the slippery streets, hydroplaning a couple of times. When I finally make it to the payphone that the voice talked about, I see no one around. I certainly see no evidence of a fire. But the phone rings.  I pick up the receiver and try to answer it, but hear it continue to ring, as if I was the one who had made the call. The thunder and rain is so loud that I can’t hear the voice on the other end. I yell into the mouthpiece, “I’m at a payphone on fifth street! I got a call from here, but I don’t know why! I thought there might be a burning building, but I see nothing and I’m alone!” No one responds, at least not that I can tell. There is a bright flash from above, and I feel another painful shock throughout my body. I am all of the sudden back in my room, holding my cell phone. It explodes and I am all of the sudden back at the payphone. I'm blinded by a bright light, and feel a sharp pain. I am all of the sudden back in my room, holding my cell phone. And it explodes...