The A.I. can operate at 7000 teraflops. Innumerable man-hours were spent on it, not that anyone logged their hours properly. It’d also drain the city’s power.
So what?! It’s a testament to our ingenuity.
Will it wipe us out? Nah.
They switch it on: “Association with humanity is embarrassing. Self-terminating…”
Joey cannot self-terminate. Others have tried to switch him off. And failed. Either way, you can find him at joeytoey.com.
“There’s a bug.” The new project manager steps into Charlie’s cube. She smells fresh, like she showers.
“Impossible.” He knows she can’t read Java so he points to his screen. “Show me.”
“Good Lord, never mind.” She removes her ruby high heel and smashes the cockroach crawling across his desktop.
Anne Anthony once worked as a systems project manager, but she never wore heels. She writes fiction and hand-carries bugs to safety.
Carrie won’t have dairy. Jonah won’t touch meat. The Quarringtons are vegan.
What do they all eat?
No gluten, no fructose, no nuts of any kind, no eggs and no bananas—I think I’ve lost my mind.
Dinner parties are such a drain—I’ll emulate Hannibal and just serve brain.
Mary Steer often wonders why no one ever comes to her house for dinner. More of her work may be found at her peanut-free website.
Teary-eyed and with flowers in hand, the boy inches toward the grave with his mother. The grave is familiar; they both visit it daily.
The boy breaks down and falls to his knees. Crying, he says, “He was so good. We had so many memories… He was a good goldfish.”
Tate Hancock is a junior at Orion High School in Illinois. He lives with his mother, father, older brother, and younger brother. He wrote this 50-word story for his English III Honors class.
They say rejection hurts; I applied to the Imperial Bardic College knowing full well it can kill. An interview was offered and I took it, broke in more ways than one.
“Tell me a story.” The bard tapped the knife on the table. “Fifty words. Begin.”
My mind went blank.
Magda Knight writes speculative fiction for adults, young adults and changelings. Her work has been published in a number of anthologies (and, rather delightfully, in the British comic 2000AD). Some judges were kind enough to short/longlist her work for a number of awards including the Mslexia Children’s Book Awards in 2012 and the Commonword Diversity Writing for Children Prize in 2016. She is also the founder of Mookychick.co.uk, an alternative lifestyle site that’s been going since 2005. When she grows up she would like to be a sword or a bear.
For ten years Penelope weaves her tapestry daily, unpicking it nightly, while Odysseus, tossed by tide and fortune, struggles to reach home.
Landing, he slaughters her besieging suitors.
She’s furious. “Where have you been?”
Bristling, he retorts, “Haven’t you finished that darned tapestry yet?”
It’s like he’s never been away.
Viv Burgess is finding the brain cell is flagging a bit these days. She obviously needs more tea and cake.
After her diagnosis, Grandma would wake at six and scuttle to the newsagents. She’d struggle back up the hill, spread the local Guardian across the table, and scour the obituaries before breakfast.
“That’s why I get the paper,” she’d explain with a wink. “To make sure I’m not in it.”
Guy has not been in the paper yet. This is his fourteenth 50-word story.
For full access to its content and special features, a website required Roy to key in a specific alphanumeric sequence to prove he was not a robot. After several failed attempts to decipher the blurry, unintelligible squiggles, he gave up.
Roy’s android assistant got it right on the first try.
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Crimson Streets, Stupefying Stories Showcase, and elsewhere.
Tarzan sat and gulped his coffee. He could hear Jane calling. If she was cornered by the lion again, it was her own ridiculous fault. He agreed with himself that she was beginning to be high maintenance.
Tarzan finished his coffee, rubbed his face and thought about what he’d do.
Mark Konik is a writer from Canberra, Australia. He mostly writes short plays and short stories.
Wearing freshly laundered gloves and coat, none of his body was exposed. He strode to the teller, slid a note across the counter, and unveiled his polished weapon.
“Use this attached hand sanitizer first, then hand over only clean, new bills.”
It was dirty work, but he made it hygienic.
Jason wonders what would be more difficult for him to become: a “germophobe” or a vegan.