Of course the big winners of the wormhole revolution were the megacorps, shipping huge quantities of data and goods between the stars. But there were little indie wins too. One enterprising history nerd realised that with a careful array of holes and a really high gain PAL reviever, she could watch TV from the 1970s--90s "live".

I hear it's become quite a christmas tradition in some of the hipster bubbles.

#microfiction #MicroSF

Detective Petrov's eyes swept the cluttered room. "So," he said, "Leonid Chekhov, age 56, an automobile mechanic - found strangled in his study. The question is, who would want him dead?"

"Sir," said officer Gurin, "look - there's a pistol on the desk."

Detective Petrov stared at the weapon, frowning. "Do you realize what this means?" he asked. "Before we're done here, I have to fire this gun...."

#microfiction #flashfiction

Happy National Poetry Day to all those who celebrate.

This year’s theme is ‘play’ so here’s a poem which plays with some letters. It’s called ‘The Problem of Writing Poems in the Shape of Deciduous Trees’.

Today's story is one of small acts of defiance, which add up to something spectacular. Read "Five Hundred Defects" by Michael Zahniser here:

https://smallwondersmag.com/piece/five-hundred-defects

His immaculately fitted monochrome suit stood out in stark contrast to the chaotically colourful furnishings of my stall.

"I guess you know why I'm here."

"I'm a spirit medium, not a fortune teller," I reply.

"Oh, well that's what we need. My employer wishes to contact a deceased person."

"Who?" I ask.

"Letitia Jones. She was a COBOL programmer. We need to know how to change her code."

And that was how I became a highly paid consultant to the finance industry.

#MicroFiction #tootfic

Viewing a fish tank produces a calming effect on your brain.

This is because of the indoor fins.

Escape room: Bookstore. The doors are unlocked and accessible. The path is clear. There is absolutely nothing preventing you from leaving.

You have one hour.

Detective Lieutenant Dave Chandler never forgot the day he first met Iris. He'd only just made Detective, and was doing a coffee run for the 'pit and this girl - no young woman - bumped into him, quite deliberately, and made a big to-do about him walking into her. And in the middle of it all, he felt her hand go into his shirt pocket, so slickly and smoothly, he was certain she was a pro. But a shirt pocket? So when she'd moved on, and he was in the queue for the coffee, he'd checked it. And there was a folded note with times, dates, and what looked like cargo manifests with ship names.

It took some convincing of his then boss, but he got permission to do a stakeout. And it had all checked out.

With the photos he'd taken that night, they'd made quite a hit on the local drug smugglers.

It had stayed like that for a few years, this pretty woman with blue-green hair would bump into him somewhere, and he'd find a note.

So he'd asked around, and found out her name, and that she was actually a year older than him. The daughter of a fisherman who'd disappeared the day she turned eighteen. No one knew who her mother was. She had a small fishing shack and a boat.

Then one night he saw her get shot, and fall into the harbour.

He'd almost gone charging in, but there were far more of the mobsters than there were of him and his partner. So they called for backup, and by the time they got there it was all too late.

But the next day, Iris had bumped into him again, and this time softly said "I'm fine." She'd known he was staking out the scene. And somehow managed to not only survive, but dodge the sweep they did to try and find her body! He'd tried to grab her, but she'd given him the slip in seconds - despite the distinctive hair.

That was the first time. Over the past year, he'd seen her shot, clubbed, stabbed and run down at least eight times. Every single time ending up in the harbour, and each time she'd bump into him the next day as if nothing had happened.

This last time, though, she'd not been back.

And now there was this letter. Telling him to look after the shack and the boat. And to go out to the old pier tonight. Alone. He had not planned on following those instructions, except for two things. A single strand of blue-green hair folded into the letter. And another list.

#microfiction #SFF #SF #Microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting #NereidIris

A companion to https://aus.social/@rdm/114676145868865943