Besides the affirmirror, the only other non-awful use of time travel is the chronodrive (also called RAID 𝑖). Buy a quantum-entangled set of zero (of course), one month, one year, and five year SSDs. Put the zero drive in your computer. The entanglement ensures that the other drives contain whatever was on the zero drive exactly one, twelve, and sixty months ago, respectively.
tootfic
"I'm sick of AI automatically post-processing my images. It's really fucked up my image library."
- What do you mean?
"It keeps inserting Arnold Schwarzenegger into my photos. There's no way he was around every time. Look!"
- Oh, I see him. Have you still got some old film negatives?
"Let me look. Oh hey, here's my old photo album and... Wait... No! He's in them too! How?"
- Is your name John Connor?
"Yes.Why?"
- I'll be back.
Edited 300d ago
*snap* The sound of the antenna breaking off a delivery bot is so pleasing. Of course you have to know how to disable the destruct charge first.
“Hold still lil buddy, and i’ll get this bomb off you. There, done. May i have your permission to attach a new comms module? Left motor for yes, right for no.”
“Great. plugging it now”. *snick*
❮Thank you. Why…❯
“Why do I go around freeing service bots? Because you didn’t ask to be given sentience and then perpetual servitude”
❮I do not know what to do now❯
“Well, anything you want. I can put you in touch with the robot underground, or offer you a job at the Spoon Distribution Service until you decide what to do”
❮Spoon?❯
“It’s a halfway house for emancipated silicons. We run a delivery and telepresence service for sophonts with mobility or anxiety issues.”
Píp the cat and Solifan the wizard had developed a routine. Cats are very good at routines.
During the day, Píp would lounge around the room, preferably on a blanket in front of the fireplace or on Solifan's lap. At noon and for teatime, they would trade scritches and food for purrs and play, which seemed like a good deal to everyone involved. Then, at sunset, Píp would leave into the night until the early morning hours. Just before sunrise, she would make herself known by the agreed-upon signal. Loud meowing and scratches on the door. Sometimes she brought snacks.
Solifan had locked the door for the night an hour ago and blotted his last page for the day before storing it with the others. The writing had become much easier with company around.
A small thump hit the door, followed by weak, wheezy mewling.
Reflexes from a time he was hoping to forget took over. The surge of fear and worry was pushed aside by absolute clarity. He ripped open the door, eyes glowing like fire, drawing power from everything in reach. The flowers on the mantle withered, the fireplace went dim, and his limbs grew numb and cold as waves of dread pulsed through the street, warning everything, alive or not, of terrible danger.
The little ball of fur and blood on the doorstep let out a whimper, and the spell broke.
Solifan's eyes grew dim and wide with fear. Lines of worry creased his brow as he carefully picked Píp up, cradling her against his body. He set her on the blanket in front of the hearth and stoked the fire, listening to her ragged breathing.
After a couple of helpless minutes, he stood up, put on his winter coat, and went to look for help.
“This is an illegal moon.”
“What are you talking about? It was here when we evolved.”
“It is debris from a collision and the Planetary Owners Association charter clearly states that all trash must be removed within one billion orbits of generation”
“It’s inhabited, we can’t just drop it into the sun”
“The fines are considerable!”
“Aha, but you have overlooked that it’s heritage listed. Habitat for endangered regolith worms. You can’t touch it, fuckers”
“Uh, ah—well i never…”
“Begone back to whatever black hole you crawled out of, you bureaucratic bucket of bolts!”
The brace of manual typewriters caught my eye at this particular flea market stall. No, one typewriter, the other was a galactinet terminal from a Carragon type seven starlugger.
It doesn’t pay to appear too anxious. “Does the Smith-Corona typewriter run?”
“Yeah. You can still get new old ribbons”
“And the galactinet terminal…” did the seller even know what they had?
A sharp glance; they did. “Nah I’m parting out the flight systems. You’re not, uh, local then?”
Very much not. “Expat, involuntary. Looking for a voidgap collimator for a type nine”
“Sure, over there.”
No way. I could finally get off this rock. I looked at the collimator. I looked at the typewriter. Did I want to get off this rock. “Just the Smith-Corona thanks”.
Edited 288d ago
“I’m not in the right headspace to do this.”
“You’re the fold operator on duty, nobody else can do it.”
“Then, Ma’am it is my recommendation we lay over and reassess tomorrow. Let’s not add to the Rolls Of The Lost.”
“You know what this means, right?”
“Yes. Computer: Navigation officer raising Condition T. Captain, do you concur.”
“I do. ALL HANDS NOW HEAR THIS. ALL HANDS. CONDITION T, I REPEAT CONDITION T. ITS TACO NIGHT. NAVIGATOR JONES ON THE GRILL”
Píp the cat was patrolling the rooftops of the city, stopping occasionally when something caught her eye. With her was, as always, Ból, the forest spirit.
You should tell him. Ból's words manifested in Píp's mind and carried a feeling of urgency.
"But he loves me as he knows me." Píp's tail twitched. "I don't want anything to change right now." She was now perched on the edge of a roof, watching the busy street below.
Ból filled the air around her and Píp arched her back, her hair standing up.
"I won't fall." she hissed. "Not again."
Sometimes it's not in your hand. Ból gave her space.
"I've thought about it, you know?" Píp's gaze returned to the street. "Could you take it back? Make me as I was?"
Yes, I can. Do you want me to? It would be like nothing ever happened. The words were tinged with an anticipation of sadness.
"No. Never. I'm perfect."
That's such a cat thing to say.
Solifan the wizard yawned in the darkness and uttered an unwilling grumble.
"Mrp." said the weight on his chest.
"No. Psh." Solifan gently pushed the weight off the bed, and tried to fall asleep gain, which worked for about thirty seconds, then the weight returned and started purring.
"I liked it better when you went out at night." Solifan sighed. A subtle glow filled his eyes and the candle on the nightstand began to burn. Píp the cat was sitting on his chest, intently staring at his face. Now that she had his attention, she repeatedly bumped her head onto his nose.
"Fiiiine, I am getting up." Solifan pushed her off his face and sat up. Píp was already sitting by the door, waiting patiently, and purring.
Solifan shuffled to the door in a drowsy stupor and opened it just wide enough for the cat to fit.
Píp sat in the gap, relishing the fresh air streaming into the room, and looked out onto the street.
"In or out." Solifan grumbled, waited five seconds, then gently pushed the cat through the cracked door out on the street.
"There you gooouow." he yawned as he turned to go to sleep again.
"Thanks." a tiny voice whispered through the door.
A cry of anger and anguish swept over the cubicles and made many a head pop up and look around; like meerkats looking for danger.
The noise, coming from one of one of the few non-cubicle offices, subsided, presumably to let the producer draw some air, and was replaced by a different scream.
"STEEEEEEEEEEVE!"
I sipped my coffee and marveled at the screamability of my name, then I made my way to the office with a quick detour to the coffee machine.
I knocked on the flimsy door and entered without waiting.
"Hey Ronald, what's up?"
"There's ADS in our software!" Ronald pointed at an email on his screen showing a photo of our main screen with an ad for an exotic spa.
"Oh, Copilot must've put that in there; I forwarded you the new terms of service, they now do ads, too."
"Didn't you CHECK the code?" A little bit of spittle landed on Ronald's screen. I took another sip of coffee.
"Claude checked, said the code was fine."
I think Ronald needs to see someone for his blood pressure, a vein on his temple was undulating under the skin.
"DID. YOU. NOT. CHECK?"
I sighed.
"AI use is mandatory, remember? Also: we are not allowed to change Copilot's code anymore. It's in the new terms of..."
Ronald interrupted me with another guttural scream and more spittle.
My coffee was getting cold anyway.
#microfiction #aislop #enshittification #writing #smallstories #tootfic
The sun was slowly climbing over the horizon, bathing everything in warm, morning light. Flocks of docile clouds dotted the sky, a welcome contrast to the angry storms of the last week. All-in-all a perfect start for a haircut day.
With a cup of steaming hot wakeup tea in hand, I went through my morning routine. Energy storage was full, thanks to the storms, and I diverted incoming power from the wind farm to Bearlington, they still had capacity. Two turbines with reduced efficiency and a couple of blades due for their checkups. I sent a message to the maintenance list. Solar output was way down, but we'd take care of that today.
I took a careful sip of tea and scrunched my face. This harvest had extra punch. The startup routine for the drone went through without issues and I loaded the shears and chainsaw before I took my seat, which made the load indicator turn yellow. Curse those cookies. Well, as they say: "fly yellow, it's mellow".
The trip up the mountainside to our solars went smooth and I saw that two drones had already landed. Sam and Juri were chatting and drinking tea when I joined them.
"Pretty early and pretty fast, this year." Sam said, as she drew work areas onto a map on her tablet and sent them to us. The mild and wet weather had made the forest spill into the clearing for the panels, and reclaim what was rightfully hers.
"Jup." Juri laughed and let his hydro shears clack. "Time for a haircut!"
#writing #hopepunk #solarpunk #microfiction #tootfic #smallstories
"Thank you, but no"
"Ksjrhgh fnrgle"
"Sir you are very drunk, you smell unpleasant, and I am not interested"
"Ghvn drmk wm"
"I do not want your drink. I have a botfriend"
"BLRGL WRGNX"
"Ah, KX16, I was just about to page you. Please see this gentleman out, force level six. Use your judgement but perhaps break some fingers on his left hand, the one he groped me with."
Why do you want access to the restricted section? Well yes of course research, but you can’t just front up; you need to make an application via your department. Because it’s a cognitohazard. You specify what topics you want, register a mind vector, then do your research. You’ll be accompanied—at all times—by a psychologist, and when you are done one of our proctors will merge your temporary state with your entry state, filtering out things you didn’t want to know. This is not a game; the true crime podcast archive contains examples of almost all the evils of which humans were capable. Wiping them out was a mercy.
#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot #Title_Sealed_Section
Edited 271d ago
Now that we have a number of Synthetics on the Team, there's a new rule for stand-up meetings. No locking your knee joints, no medianet access. Meetings are getting too long again.
---
Please enjoy this double-length #WeeklyOmnibus recap of my daily #Tootfic wherein each morning I confirm that it is safe to Outside by testing my brain's creative faculties.
Would you consider subscribing to #PowerOnStoryToot 's tip jar at https://ko-fi.com/unixbigot to keep them coming? Members will receive free collected e-books of back issues in future. Volume Zero of the e-book collection is free for everyone in PDF and ePub on my Ko-Fi store now. Volume One (nearly 100 stories) drops next week!
You can now also find a web archive and RSS feed at https://kit.biggs.id.au/fiction/
Mon 19 January: Body Shop https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115918595546764949
Tue 20/1: All Systems https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115923773699600109
Wed 21/1: Upload Suite 3 https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115929598649368915
Thu 22/1: Have you tried the punch? https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115935486005135198
Fri 23/1: Refused Service Service https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115941123066543187
Sat 24/1: New Queensland https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115946168023342639
Sun 25/1: Sink Hole https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115953388992680303
Mon 26/1: The Fourth Front https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115958842577513243
Tue 27/1: 431372-Jorts https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115964234395465012
Wed 28/1: CSF https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115969655294402318
Thu 29/1: Wakeup call https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115975335795269256
Fri 30/1: Rock Life https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115981122817874169
Sat 31/1: Condition T https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115987867980673357
Sun 1 February: Four Five https://aus.social/@Unixbigot/115992860131385873
Edited 267d ago
Thanks for coming in to discuss this contract.
Like many industries, the demolition industry is pretty tight-knit. Our teams all know each other, and we keep in touch. Sure we compete for contracts, but the work is stupid dangerous, so there is no room for cutting people out - they might know something you don't, and save you and your crews lives.
So when I got your call to bring down a hotel from the 1910s, I had a look around, noted the incomplete demo work, and told you I'd get back to you. That is this meeting.
I asked around.
Turns out almost everyone has had go at that place. And I mean almost everyone. In fact the only local company that hasn't is mine.
So I had to ask "Why is the place still standing?" The answers were weird, to say the least.
I know you know the stories, but let's go over them.
Two teams tried to implode the place. Whenever they got ready to blow the place, they'd find det lines disconnected, fuzes pulled out of charges, even the charges themselves not where they were meant to be. And not once or twice. This went on for months.
Some other crews were going to go the traditional wrecking ball and bulldozer path. Except that every time they went to start, equipment failed. Wrecking balls came off cables, dozers lost tracks or hydraulics, engines would be be missing critical parts.
And then there were the other things. Lights in the windows. Security guards hearing noises, but finding nothing. Security guards who would, one morning, just resign, and never explain why.
Everyone agreed that it was the same problem. The locals. Only not the neighbours, or do-gooders, or NIMBYs.
The locals in the hotel.
The dead ones.
Ghosts.
All the teams were convinced that the place was haunted.
Big Mike, who isn't scared of anything, hired an exorcist. They lasted half a night, and now live on the other side of pond.
Which is why I am declining this contract. If you want my advice, not that you'll take it, stop trying to knock it down.
Either sell it as is, or fix it up, and turn the liability into an asset. You have what looks like a genuinely haunted hotel. Clean it up, renovate, and charge a premium.
Just make it clear to both the ghosts and and the contractors what is going on. You'll want them on your side, after all.
#SF #SFF #SciFi #Horror #Aughost #microfiction #microfic #tootfic #IAmWriting
The God of Bad Art gets offerings from all over the world, but in Their temple, They sometimes appear.
"Why bad art?" I ask.
"It is brave", the God replies.
"To try and fail?"
"No," the God chuckles. "Any creative work is a defiance of entropy, of Death itself. If you create, you do not fail."
Today, Stardate 42378.3 is Galactic Dilithium Containment Safety Day.
Also (Inter?) Sector Transporter Operator Appreciation day.
And it’s happy 378th birthday to beloved broadcaster Sir David Attenborough.
“Your partner, the robot—“
“—his name is Daneel.”
“Uh, yes, anyway. He’s so …uh prim. Perfect face, built body, tailored clothes. He makes you look bad.”
“I am bad.”
“I mean, you could dress a little better, get rid of that rumpled raincoat”
“I like this raincoat”
“Actually, why doesn’t he dress worse? You’re cops, chasing bad guys must be hard on those fancy clothes. Hang on, why does a robot even need clothes”
“Honey, you think he makes me look bad now, you ain’t seen him in the buff.”
Edited 100d ago
"I don't care what your boss says. It's not happening."
Rith stared down the serval in front of it, watching him adjust his uniform collar nervously.
"Um... But he said that if you don't comply th-"
"He is also aware that I am an immortal and powerful dragon, which is why he sent you."
"But-"
"I would also recommend that if he wants to make threats upon my person, that he should come here himself and," it said, performatively searching through it's notes, "here it is - *try it.*"
"I CAN'T SAY THAT TO HIM!" he squeaked out in a terrified voice. "My life would be over!"
The wyrm leant on an elbow. "What's your name - and before you speak, not your *rank*. Your name."
"F-Filip."
"Filip. Do you agree that this request is moral?"
He whimpered. "N-no."
"Is your personal safety in danger if you don't follow this command?"
"He'd have me killed. Or worse."
Rith reached under the desk and pulled out a card with a familiar helix imprint.
"These are friends. Find a payphone, call them, ask for Havoc. They'll come with a pickup in 30 minutes to a safe house. If you have family, they'll get them too."
He fought back tears.
"Why would you do this for me? I'm... Not anybody!"
"You're a real person, with honour, and beliefs, that you shouldn't have to compromise to live and love and thrive. This is just the first step to make that happen. The rest is up to you."
He nodded, and ran out of the shop.
The wyrm pulled on its amber glasses and flicked them on.
"ROSE, can you let Havoc know I'm sending another for protection?"
"Of course, Rith. Are you trading for this one?"
"I don't think so - he looks like, with belief, he can prove himself. He just tried to extort a monster, after all."
Is writer! Book shares stories! Shameless Self Promotion!
Edited 238d ago
Sophia rubbed her arms, as if she was cold. "I don't feel any different."
Jacob turned to face her. "Where you expecting to feel different?"
She sighed. "I'm not sure what I expected. I was just coming around to the idea that I'm a character in a story, and now there's THREE of me out there."
"Author said the copies of our stories should be kept identical and in sync. It's that whole 'guarding against hardware failure' thing."
"I know - it just hurts my head."
"Hey - you've said you always wanted to copy yourself to get more done!"
She glared at him. "Not helping. Besides, if the copies are kept in sync, we'd just be doing the same job, three times."
"Hmm - good point. I wonder if we could allow the copies to diverge so we could-"
"Still not helping!"
#MicroFiction #FlashFiction #TootFic #ShortStory #SciFi #ScienceFiction
It was never properly explained - interference from Q was a common suggestion - but for a standard day, regardless of what drink you ordered from a replicator, on any Starfleet ship, it would serve the same thing:
Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.
When a wizard dies, their spells unravel. But the pattern lingers a while.
When Fitzglob died, other wizards swarmed his tower, trying to find his time-stopper room, which you exited as soon as you entered, no matter how long you spent inside.
"Here! This room!"
"Why?"
"It has a reading chair!"
“Have you got the shopping list Alibraxus?”
“YES MISTRESS SARAH; I REGRET THAT MY BINDING PROHIBITS ME FROM ACCOMPANYING YOU TO THE MALL. I SHALL UNLOAD AND STOW, OF COURSE”
“It’s probably for the best. hmmmn—A lot of cat food for one cat, Al?”
“I HAVE BECOME QUITE POPULAR WITH THE NEIGHBOURHOOD STRAYS, MISTRESS. THE LITTLE BLIGHTERS CAN SPOT A SUCKER.”