Short story – “The Fall”

“The Fall”

When Alan opened the door of his apartment, he saw his partner Sam on the couch petting their dog. “Did you hear the news?  The jury just convicted Mayor Becker of rape.”

“That’s not surprising,” Sam replied.

Taking off his coat, Alan said, “I guess that’s the end of his reelection campaign.”

“Not necessarily,” Sam replied.  “There are a lot of voters who support his economic policies.” After a second, they added, “And those people are assholes.”

Alan wiped imaginary sweat from his brow.  “Glad you finished that.  Otherwise, you and Buster would’ve had to find a new place to live.”

Sam put a protective arm around Buster and kissed him on the head.  They then leaned close and whispered, “You have my permission to bite him.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

***

I wrote this because only a society that’s falling would let a sexual predator retain political power.

Short story – “Bated Breath”

“Bated Breath”

A phone alarm brought Alice to the brink of consciousness.  The alarm was turned off, but before Alice could slip back to sleep, Dana pushed on her shoulder.  “Wakey, wakey.”

“Five more minutes,” Alice mumbled.

Dana leaned over and Alice felt her breath on her ear.  “No.”

Alice began to groan, but it quickly became a shriek as Dana began tickling her.  Jolting up, Alice tried to squirm out the blankets while crying, “I’m up, I’m up.”

Dana stopped her attack, then hugged Alice and gave her a lengthy kiss. 

When it finished, Alice smiled and asked, “Do you really want to wake me up?”

Waving her phone, Dana said, “Let’s see if there’s a reason for us to celebrate first.”

Alice flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes. 

“What’s your prediction?” Dana asked.  When Alice didn’t answer, Dana nudged her with her foot.

“I’m thinking,” Alice replied.

“Do you want to hear mine?”

Alice shrugged.  “Sure.”

“I’ll say that he isn’t dead, but he did have a heart attack or something and he’s in the hospital.”

“Is his outlook not good?”

“We can hope.  So what’s your guess?”

“I’ll say,” Alice paused for a moment before continuing, “he bombed some random place in Mexico to stop one of those non-existent migrate caravans.”

“Ooooh, spicy.”

Checking the news, Dana said, “And the winner is ….”

Short story – “A Sealed Fate”

 

“A Sealed Fate”

A bored young man wearing only a T-shirt reading “Bank robber” stood in a space just big enough for two people.  The ceiling – while not so low as to make him stoop – was uncomfortably low and the walls were painted in the blandest beige imaginable.  The only other thing currently in the room was a counter high on the wall he faced quickly approaching zero.

When the counter hit 0:00, several things happened at once.  A folded T-shirt appeared in the man’s right hand, a door appeared below the counter, and the counter reset to 5:00 and began counting down.  But the main thing that happened was a bright flash of reddish light deposited a naked, older woman in the space.

In a monotone, the man began, “You died and were-”

The woman screamed and slapped him.  “What have you done to me?  Where am I?” She turned around, and realized she was naked.  She tried to cover herself while screaming and punching the man.

After about a minute of silently taking her punches, he suddenly yelled, “Shut up!”

This stunned the woman and she backed up, as far as she could.

The man then explained, “I did nothing to you.  You died and were sent to Hell.”

The woman started to argue, but stopped herself.  Shaking her head, she said, “No, no.  I don’t belong in Hell.  I should be in Heaven.”

“Sure.  Anyway,” handing her the shirt, the man continued, “everyone gets a shirt that explains why they are here in Hell.  It’s not the main reason, but a big one.  For example, I hated the idea of a 9 to 5, so I decided I’d rob a bank to make easy money.  Only I got shot and ended up here where I’ll spend the next few thousand years welcoming people to Hell and giving them a shirt.  So take your shirt Miss,” here he unfolded her shirt and read “‘Trump supporter, even after he went full fascist,’ and go through that door to your eternal damnation.  And hurry up, because,” here he pointed at the counter reading 3:13, “when that hits zero, another person will be transported in, even if you’re still here.  And that sucks.”

The woman reluctantly took the shirt.  Shaking her head, she said, “No.  It shouldn’t be like this.  These aren’t Pearly Gates, and you’re no Saint Peter.”

The man sighed.  “Having died in 1973, I don’t know who this Trump is, but apparently, he’s a fascist.  And if you supported him, then you are to.  And you wonder why you ended up in Hell?  Why would Saint Peter waste his time on someone who’s fate is already sealed?”

The woman thought for a moment, then said, “No.  I refuse-”

“Just go through the fucking door you bitch,” the man yelled.  “Find out what Hell has in store for a fascist, and give me a minute’s peace.”

Short story – “Not Worth It”

“Not Worth It”

“Next question.”

“Prime Minister, do you have any comment on Elon Musk’s suggestion that the island of Kartil, despite having no history with the US and being over 700 kilometers from any US territory, should be American?”

The Prime Minister frowned ever so slightly.  “When was this?”

“Last night, in a post on X.”

“Ah, that’s why I didn’t see it,” she said.  “I didn’t know anyone still posted on that dead site.”

This was met with a few chuckles.

“Next question.”

“So you have no comment?”

“If I spent time giving well thought out replies to the ravings of every idiot on the internet,” here she smiled, “I wouldn’t have time to give well thought out replies to the ravings of the idiots in Parliament.”

This was met with laughter.

“Next question.”

Short story – “A Line in the Sand”

“A Line in the Sand”

The video began with a woman of uncertain ancestry in her forties standing on a beach in the shade of some palm trees.  The rustling of the fronds drowned out whatever sound came from the gentle waves.  The woman smiled and began in clear English, but with a bit of a French accent, “My name is Neti Bolak, and I am the President of Tuz.  We are a small nation consisting of a dozen atolls about halfway between Hawaii and The Philippines.  Our economy runs on tourists visiting for our wonderful beaches,” here she indicated the beach behind her, “as well as our clear waters with several sites for snorkeling and scuba diving.  The other main contributor to our economy is the small United States Naval Base located on our northern most atoll.  Many in America have probably never heard of our country until last week when President Trump in an, arguably, rambling post, stated that America should ‘take over’ my nation. 

“Since then, we have used all of our diplomatic means to discover why he would say such a thing and to ask for an apology.  The most common answer we received was that it was just a joke.” President Bolak paused for a moment.  “Threatening to invade my nation when you had promised to protect us and possibly killing scores or hundreds of my civilians.  I’m sorry, what is the joke? 

“The other reason given for his statement was that it was just ‘a negotiating tactic.’ This is where you make an unreasonable demand, knowing that after several rounds of compromise, you’ll end up with what you really wanted, without having to give up anything.  But negotiations over what?  Yes, there were some difficulties between our citizens and the American military in the past, but things have been mutually beneficial between us for the last couple of decades.  So why threated to invade our nation as a negotiation tactic when, as far as I knew, we had no issues being negotiated?”

Standing taller, President Bolak stated, “Our country has been threatened, and our reasonable demands for an apology have been ignored.  That is why I am now giving President Trump an ultimatum.  You have twenty-four hours from the posting of this video to make a video apology to my nation.  If you do not do that, then we will demand the United States military to leave our territory.”

Shrugging, President Bolak continued, “We are not asking for much.  And I want the peoples of America and the world to know that Tuz has no quarrel with any of them.  All that is necessary to end this minor diplomatic fracas, is for one man to set his ego aside and admit he was wrong.  That is all we are asking for.

“Now some will point out that I said the United States military was a major contributor to our economy, so why would I risk damaging my country’s economy?  Well, if we are forced to kick out the Americans, maybe the Chinese could use a naval base.  And perhaps be better guests.”

With a bitter smile, President Bolak finished, “For those saying I’m being overly dramatic, don’t worry, it’s just a negotiating tactic.”

Short story – “Did You Think Otherwise?”

“Did You Think Otherwise?”

A young boy walked around the corner of the building.  Half of the soldiers pointed their weapons at him, while the other half covered them.  The boy raised his hands and stated, “I mean you no harm.”

Lieutenant Harkin lowered his weapon, but the rest of his platoon didn’t.  “You speak English?” he asked.

The boy nodded.  “I do.  The men you seek are not here.”

“Is that so?  I suppose you expect me to just take your word for it.”

The boy smiled.  “I speak the truth.  You must decide if you believe me.”

“Okay,” Harkin replied, drawing the word out.  “If you don’t mind, I think we’ll still search the village.” He then gave orders and his men spread out to sweep the village.

Once his men were off, Harkin walked up to the boy.  “You said the men we seek aren’t here.  Do you know where they are?”

“In the mountains,” the boy replied, pointing to the north.

Harkin looked where the boy pointed and asked, “Could you be a little more specific.”

“So you could go kill my uncles and cousins?”

Harkin turned to the boy, but almost immediately looked to the ground.  “War is hell,” he muttered.

“Then why do you go to it willingly?”

For several seconds, Harkin debated how to reply to that.  In the end he gave a grim smile and stated, “I wonder that myself every day.”

The boy smiled.

Over the next few minutes, his soldiers reported in that there was no sign of the enemy in the village.  At last, Harkin said, “Okay, let’s move out.  Leave these people in peace.” He looked around to say goodbye to the boy – who, he realized, he had never asked his name – but the boy had disappeared.

Once the soldiers were gone, the boy’s mother found him by the well.  In the local dialect she scolded him, “You need to be more careful with the Americans.”

The boy shrugged.  “Why should I treat them any differently than the Romans?”

***

I first wrote this story back in 2011.  I forget what actually prompted it (possibly some news about US troops in Iraq or Afghanistan) but the thought was how many American evangelical types just assume that Jesus will come back as an American.

The Uncapped Pen, at last!

 

Over a decade ago, I had the idea of putting together a collection of stories dealing with writing: authors arguing with their muse, or struggling with having too many ideas, or too few, or whatever.  But for reasons, I set it aside, until a few years ago when I figured I’d finish it.  Well, it took longer than expected, and just as I was about to put the final polish on, there was a writer’s strike.  While I’m not a member of the Writers Guild of America, it felt wrong to publish a book about writing during their strike.  But since the strike is over, I’ve now published The Uncapped Pen.  You can find it on Kindle for $3.99, or equivalent.

Short story – “The Gift of Vomit”

“The Gift of Vomit”

I turn off my phone and set it back on the dresser.  Just as I snuggle back under the covers, I hear my upstairs neighbor’s alarm going off.  The muffled blare goes on for several seconds before blissfully stopping.  For a minute or so I hear the vague sounds of him moving around before quiet returns.

I take a deep breath, and hope to go back to the dream I was having about my ex-girlfriend’s sister. 

My poor neighbor will be trudging through the rain on his morning commute, while under my warm blankets things are so peaceful.  I’ll have a nice relaxing day, all because I told my boss I threw up breakfast.

***

This was originally published in 2014 on a now defunct website.  Of course, back then if you did call in sick it probably wasn’t that big of a deal.  Now you’d probably get bombarded with an endless stream of “Nobody wants to work anymore” BS. 

***

I started reposting these stories on the third Thursday, and that the day this goes up happens to be St. Patrick’s Day is a complete coincidence.  The story isn’t titled “The Gift of Green Vomit” after all.

Short story – “A Christmas Miracle?”

“A Christmas Miracle?”

It was parents in the Western Pacific who first raised the alarm.  They were either doing last minute wrapping, or their regular routines, when presents just appeared.  Soon there were videos that showed – at the stroke of midnight – presents appearing.  There was no jolly fellow leaving them.  One second there was nothing, the next, simple toys in basic wrappings. 

As the hours passed, there were thousands upon thousands of such videos.  And some even showed crude traps to try to catch whatever was doing this, all to no avail. 

Christmas Day ended with a million questions, but no answers.  For the following year it was the number one topic of heated debate around the world.  Some even claimed The Event was the cause of several government collapses. 

Would it be repeated next Christmas?  Untold resources were spent to better record the phenomena.  But on the day, no presents showed up.  This just raised more questions and more debate.  Decades later, the general feeling was that our response to the miracle had just got us collectively put on the Naughty List.

***

For the last few years, I’ve had wondered how the world would react if Santa became active.  The basic idea being the world would freak out.  It was a fun idea, but I had assumed it might have to be a novella, and I didn’t have time for that.  But the other day I was thinking about it and started seeing this ultrashort version.  While this turned out to be about twice as long as I had hoped, it is still way shorter than I had first imagined.

Thanksgiving Sale!

So it’s Thanksgiving, if you live in the US.  Which means you only have a few weeks left to spend your hard earned money on mostly useless crap.  I know things have been crazy for the last couple of years, so as an early holiday gift, here are five of my ebooks you can download for free.  And the best thing is, you can get them instantly: you don’t have to wait for them to sail across the ocean and get through a crowded port. 

You can get this all for the price of a click from Wednesday November 24th, through Sunday November 28th.  I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season, and I hope you enjoy anything of mine you read.

A Man of Few Words

A Man of Few Words is a collection of fifty of my flash fiction stories. What would really happen if a “T-Rex on steroids” attacked a city? Why do science fiction writers make the best lovers? How does a company get to Second Base with VIPs? I explore these questions and more using less than 1000 words and in various genres from humor to horror and general fiction to science fiction.

The majority of the stories were previously published (most on my website) but all were revised for this collection. In addition, each piece is accompanied by some background information on the origin of the story or a funny tale about the writing of it to give a fuller experience.

The Moon Before Mars

Over the last few years a lot of people have caught Mars fever. It seems a week doesn’t go by without a report of some new group wanting to send people to Mars, or some big name in the industry talking about why we have to go to Mars, or articles talking about the glorious future humanity will have on Mars. All of this worries me. In my opinion, a Mars base is currently not sustainable because there’s no way for it to make money. A few missions may fly doing extraordinary science, but if it’s then cancelled for cost the whole Mars Project may just be seen as an expensive stunt.

Fortunately, there are other places in the solar system besides Mars. While bases on the moon and amongst the asteroids won’t be as “inspirational” as one on Mars, they will have opportunities for businesses to make goods and services as well as profits, meaning less chance of them being outright cancelled. This will make life better on Earth and secure a firm foothold in space for humanity. The essays in The Moon Before Mars: Why returning to the moon makes more sense than rushing off to Mars allow me to describe my ideas on what can be accomplished on the moon and with the asteroids, and why Mars isn’t the destiny of humanity its cheerleaders make it out to be.

Lonely Phoenix

Partway to a new colony world, board member Geoffrey Ames is woken from hibernation by the caretaking crew of the Lucian. They require him to look into the matter of their fellow crewman Morgan Heller. Morgan’s claims – such as being over 1500 years old – would normally land him in the psychiatric ward, except he can back up some of his other claims.

Brain for Rent and other stories

Brain for Rent and other stories is a collection of five of my short scifi stories to give a sampling of my writing. The collection includes: “Brain for Rent” about a ne’re-do-well failed writer with a conceptual implant who discusses his work with a young woman thinking of getting an implant herself. “The Demonstration” is about a different young woman wanting to show off her latest body modification. “Self Imprisonment” offers one solution of safe keeping the backup copy of yourself. “The Best Job Ever” is about a necessary – yet unpleasant – human/alien interaction. And the collection ends with “Why Stay?” which explains why, after years of fighting the humans, the robots just deactivate.

An Ounce of Prevention

Like most people, Jason Fisher wanted to make the world a better place, but he doubted he would ever have the chance to make much of a mark. Then a “woman” came to him, asking his help to save humanity by threatening it.

Short story – “Rest in Peace”

This story began as a dream.  In the dream, I was walking along the sidewalk and I saw the Tenth Doctor carrying bags of groceries or something, and he stopped at a beat up old vending machine.  He soniced it, and it opened up to be a TARDIS, slowly decaying in plain view.  The image stuck with me, and since I had been kicking around the idea of doing some fan fiction stories at some point, I started working on a story based on that.

But after a few months, I hadn’t started anything.  Then a site I wrote on had a Doctor Who Fan-Fiction contest.  I guess a new season was starting, so I got around and wrote this story.  It didn’t win, and then a couple years later the site went belly-up. 

I have a few ideas for fan fiction stories, but I haven’t really written any because I have too many of my own stories I need to work on.  But I was reminded of this story recently and I decided to repost it.  In case you’re wondering, my only other fan fiction story is “Jedi ER,” which is more parody.

“Rest in Peace”

“Where are we?” Martha asked.

Opening the TARDIS door, the Doctor replied, “In the middle of nowhere, in what will one day be Nebraska.”

They stepped outside to a small clearing surrounded by pine trees.  The trees right in front of them were back lit by a rosy sky.

Walking forward, Martha asked, “Is that a sunrise, or a sunset?”

“Sunset.  It’s late on the evening of the Twelfth of November, 1833.” Waving at the clear sky, the Doctor added, “Right now, far out in space, untold thousands of dust particles and pebbles and other debris of Comet Tempel-Tuttle – which humans won’t discover for another thirty-three years – are heading for Earth.  In a few hours they’ll hit the atmosphere and burn up in The Great Leonid Meteor Storm.  It’s estimated that at its height, people could see 100,000 meteors an hour.  The number of meteors was so great, some people even thought the next night would be completely black because all the stars had to have fallen.”

“And let me guess,” Martha said.  “Hidden amongst all those meteors are alien spaceships here to conquer the world.”

The Doctor stopped and frowned.  “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.  But that’s the sort of thing that happens around you.”

After a few seconds, the Doctor continued walking.  “Those were just coincidences.”

“So why are we really here?”

“Because it will be pretty.”

The clearing widened into a small meadow filled with drying weeds.  The Doctor turned and said, “Martha, you really should-”

Martha took a few more steps before she stopped and looked at the Doctor.  The blood had drained from his face.  “Doctor, what is it?” She followed his gaze to see – at the edge of the meadow – an old, wooden shed that looked like one strong wind would blow it over.  “What is that?”

Without replying, the Doctor took off running towards the shed. 

Martha ran after him.  “Doctor.  What is it?”

The Doctor reached the shed and slowly reached out to pat the rough wood. 

When Martha arrived, she heard him whisper, “Oh you poor girl.” Martha took a closer look at the shed.  It was made from old, weather beaten planks, several of which had fallen off.  Patches of moss grew on some that remained.  Piles of dead weeds and pine needles were around the base, and a few small trees had taken root in them.

Looking back at the Doctor, Martha said, “I don’t understand.  It’s just an old shed.”

“No, it’s not.” The Doctor took his sonic screwdriver from inside his coat and aimed it at the door.  It buzzed a few seconds, and then the door – despite the rusty hinges – swung open.  Inside was a much, much larger space.  It was very dim inside, but Martha could make out what appeared to be a rustic cabin.  But in the center, surrounded in pale light, was a TARDIS console.

It took a few seconds for Martha to voice her thoughts.  “It’s the TARDIS.”

“It’s a TARDIS,” the Doctor corrected her.  “A Type 60.”

Before Martha could ask, the Doctor walked in.  After a few seconds she followed him.

The Doctor stopped by the console.  He reached out, but hesitated before resting his hand on it.  In response, the room filled with a low, mournful sound.

Martha walked around the Doctor, but had only gone a few steps before she stopped.  “Doctor.” On the other side of the console was a comfortable chair filled with remains.  All that was left inside the tattered clothing was a skeleton, but it looked as if a third of the bones had been turned to dust.

The Doctor looked at the body and sighed.  “Janithid.”

“You … knew him?”

“Only in passing.  He disappeared during The War.”

“What did that to him?”

“The Nightmare Child.”

“Who’s that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

They were silent for a few seconds, then the room again filled with a mournful sound.

Martha looked up the ceiling and asked, “What’s wrong with this TARDIS?”

“She’s dying.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

The Doctor shook his head.  “No, she’s too far gone.  They’ve been here for centuries.  Slowly gathering dust, fading away, being buried by time.” He patted the console and added, “These are her final moments.  Of course, the final moments of a TARDIS can last for decades.”

Martha placed her hand on the console next to his.  “Rest in peace,” she said.

The Doctor smiled and took her arm.  “Come on.”

Back outside, the Doctor soniced the door closed.  He then patted the worn wood and said, “Rest in peace.”

He turned around and said, “Now then, it’s getting dark.  Let’s find a good spot to watch the Great Leonid Meteor Storm.”

Short story – “Shake Things Up”

“Shake Things Up”

John knocked on the open door of Principle Shelia Kubinsky.  She was typing on her laptop and said, “One moment.”

After a few seconds she looked up and John asked, “You wanted to see me, Principle Kubinsky?”

“Yes John,” Shelia said.  “Have a seat.”

Once he sat down, she said, “We’ve received a note about you from a concerned parent.”

John straightened up.  “Oh?”

“Yes.  Did you tell one of your classes that if they studied math and science they could one day build a doomsday weapon, such as an earthquake machine?”

John relaxed and nodded.  “Yes.”

Shelia raised an eyebrow.  “Why?”

“The subject came up.”

Shelia’s eyes narrowed.  “How did such a subject ‘come up?’”

John thought for a moment, then said, “As I recall, it was Monday, just before fourth period.  The bell hadn’t rung yet, and some students were talking about that new movie Shake Down where, apparently, the villain has an earthquake machine.  They asked if something like that was even possible.”

When he didn’t continue, Shelia added, “So you thought it best to tell them that by studying math and science they could one day build such a device?”

“I believe I said ‘physics and engineering,’ but added that it would be a massive undertaking probably exceeding the Manhattan Project.  And then I had to explain the Manhattan Project.”

Shelia nodded.  “I see.  I’ll send an email to the parents.  Hopefully it will clear up any misunderstandings.  Just be careful about discussing doomsday weapons in the classroom.”

“Of course.”

***

I posted this in 2015 on a site that is no longer around, and I figured I should repost it.

When I try to come up with new story ideas for stories, I often let my imagination go off on wild tangents.  One day, such a tangent led to me thinking about earthquake machines.  I liked the idea, but I couldn’t think of a story I could use an earthquake machine in.  But then I came up with this.

Short story – “Good for the Goose”

“Good for the Goose”

There was a soft knock at Matt’s front door exactly at 9:17 AM, the time listed on his notice.  Regardless of everything else, at least the overlords were punctual.  Matt squared his shoulders and opened the door.  An A-H stood on his porch.

Humanity’s first knowledge that they were not alone in the universe came when a billion Artificial-Humans appeared all over the world along with hundreds of giant spaceships.  It was also the sign that Humanity had been defeated in its first interstellar war.  The new masters of Earth – the Followers of the All – created the A-Hs to keep their new subjects in line.  They were of basic human shape with pale blue skin and deep green eyes.  All were bald and they wore no clothing, revealing no gender.

Without invitation, the A-H walked in to Matt’s living room.  It stopped before a large pile of books and various odds and ends in the middle of the floor.  In a soft tenor voice it asked, “Are these all of the forbidden items in your home?”

Looking at his feet, Matt mumbled, “Yes.”

Forbidden items.  At first many cheered the aliens for achieving world peace in a matter of hours.  Every ICBM, warship, tank, jet and gun from every military and terrorist group in the world was collected by the motherships using some energy field and returned as blocks of steel and other metals, “to be used for better purposes.”

But the cheering did not last long.  Any false religion – or product of false religion – was abhorrent to the Followers of the All.  Once they were done with the world’s militaries, the motherships began leveling every synagogue, church, mosque, and temple in the world.  The Kaaba, St. Peter’s Basilica, Ise Jingū, and Swaminarayan Akshardham, all were reduced to parking lots.  Historical structures were not spared either; Machu Picchu, Angkor Wat, and the Moai of Easter Island were reduced to stones.  Even the evidence that it was an ancient observatory did not save Stonehenge. 

Once the motherships took care of the big things, the A-Hs were turned loose upon the people.  Lists of forbidden items appeared in every home.  On the list were: guns, pocket knives, decorative swords, any toys of a military nature, all meat products (since the Followers of the All were strict vegans, their subjects would be as well) and all books and movies concerning false religions or anything mystical.  This included the Bible, the Koran, Dianetics, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars.  Even The Godfather because it, “invoked a false name of the All.”

While Matt agreed the world would be better off without violent videogames and pornography – over the years he had signed numerous petitions to that effect and donated to politicians promising to curb these destructive elements – he couldn’t see the threat of angel hair pasta. 

The A-H raised its hand and a blue-green energy beam shot out from it.  The forbidden items glowed for a second then vanished.  Turning towards Matt, the A-H held out a small, black, hexagon wafer.  “You are credited with 13.7 Krells.”

Matt took the wafer and mumbled, “Thank you.”

Without reply, the A-H left.

For several moments, Matt stood with his eyes closed.  Finally, he opened his eyes and looked around at his empty bookshelves.  He had tried to be strong, but now he fell to his knees and sobbed.

***

I first posted this story in 2008 on MySpace.  In 2014, I reposted it on a site that went belly up a year or so later.  I then reposted it in 2018 on a site that – I think – is still around, but I think my profile has probably been deleted because I haven’t signed in in three years.  So hopefully this story will stay around for some time now.

There is a long history of groups of people trying to impose their religious beliefs on others, and I thought it only seemed fair if they had other beliefs imposed on them.  Of course, in any conflict – be in militarily or culturally – there are innocent bystanders.

Short Story – “The Greater the Risk”

The Greater the Risk

“Enjoying the view?”

Sue Travis smiled.  Without turning around she said, “It’s the number one reason I took the job.”

Michael Wheeler floated up next to her and for several seconds they both watched the Andes gliding away far below them.  “It wasn’t,” he finally asked, “to handhold a bunch of snobby, nauseous tourists?”

With a smirk, Sue replied, “That was a close second.”

Michael returned the smirk and nodded.

“Mister Wheeler, I’m surprised you refer to the backbone of the company you and your brother recently bought a controlling share in as, ‘snobby, nauseous tourists.’”

“If we are questioning motives, Miss Travis, perhaps we should start with yours.  After two stints on the ISS, word is you were on the list – perhaps not the short-list but on the list nonetheless – to be picked to go to the moon.  Instead, you leave NASA to take up command of this dinky, little, commercial station.  Between experiments you play hostess to rich tourists getting a taste of space.” After a brief pause, Michael added, “Such as myself.”

Glancing out the view window, Sue saw they were now over the Caribbean and turned back to Michael.  “Just about everyone in the Astronaut Corps was on ‘The List,’ but my chances at being picked were … slim.  I’m better at running experiments in microgravity then exploring the lunar surface.  Besides, here I get six months on orbit each year, until I hit my radiation limits.  That’s far more flight time than I could get at NASA.  Plus, I do support NASA, but the future is in the commercial sector.  And an ex-astronaut taking command of this ‘dinky, little, commercial station’ has added an element of credibility to the company.  Has it not?”

“Indeed it has.” Michael smiled.  “So you believe the future belongs to the commercial sector?”

“Of course.”

“Do you believe part of that commercial future is exploration?”

Sue frowned.  “What do you mean?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Michael floated a little closer to her.  “How would you like to go to the moon?  Not to land, not even to orbit, just to swing around and come back to Earth.”

Her frown deepened.  “How?”

“In two weeks, a rocket will arrive to boost the station to a much higher orbit.” Placing a hand on his chest, Michael went on, “Now I am a business man, but my brother Tom is the engineer.  He has worked out that it would just be possible to use that rocket to put one of the station’s lifeboats onto a trajectory that will – eventually – swing it around the moon then back to Earth.  The lifeboats have enough supplies to keep six people alive for five days, so it should be enough to keep one person going for the twenty-seven days this trip to the moon and back will take.  It is extremely risky, but we need to show that there is more to us than just expensive vacations.”

For several seconds neither said anything.  “I have been watching you for the past few days,” Michael finally said.  “We were still working out the details three months ago, and since you’re not scheduled to land for another three months, we couldn’t wait to talk to you on the ground.  We had picked you as our number one choice, but we felt one of us should make the offer in person.”

Sue nodded.  “Of all your employees I have the most experience in space and am therefore best suited for such a colossal publicity stunt.”

Michael smiled.  “Precisely.  Next month NASA is finally returning to the moon after fifty-odd years.  And it’s taken them almost a decade to get to this point.  We don’t plan on stealing their thunder of landing on the moon, but we’d like to show what we can do with less than a year’s planning and existing equipment.  Yes, it will be a grand publicity stunt, but one that should increase public interest in the commercial sector.  And having an ex-astronaut make the trip will just make it even more news worthy.  So, have I piqued your interest?”

“I think,” Sue paused for a moment before continuing, “I think before I decide anything I would like to see your brother’s figures.”

***

I first wrote this story back in 2008 as part of my 30 Stories in 30 Days Challenge.  And then I kind of forgot about it.  That is, until 2017 when SpaceX announced their first plans on sending tourists around the moon.  I thought, Didn’t I write a story along those lines?  So I found this story and posted it again.  I’m posting it for a third time now, because the second time I posted it I had all the SpaceX stuff at the top, but that was like six SpaceX plans ago, and I figured if I put the story at the top it won’t get dated so quickly.  I also wanted to make some revisions. 

Biden Inauguration Sale!

Just before the 2012 Election, I self-published Political Pies, a collection of forty of my stories with a political element.  I tried to make the stories as neutral or equally condemning of the parties as I could because I wasn’t trying to force an agenda, I just wanted people to start thinking about issues.  Since then, to try to get it into as many hands as I could, I usually have a free sale of it for the Fourth of July, elections, and inaugurations.  Usually I just have it by itself, but last year I started doing sales with multiple books, so that’s what I’m doing here. 

So, between Sunday January 17th and Thursday January 21st, you can grab the following five Kindle ebooks for free. 

Political Pies

Everybody complains about politics, but does anyone do anything about it? My attempt to do something about it is to collect forty of my short stories with a political element into my Political Pies anthology. My stories are either politically neutral or equally condemning of the national parties. Instead of trying to sway you to one ideology or another, my goal is to just get people thinking about politics in the hopes a rose might grow out of all the political manure.

The Future is Coming

As a science fiction writer, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how technology will change the way we live. I’ve come up with these ten short essays about science fictional elements that will – almost certainly – one day become science fact as a way for people to start coming to terms with them. Because I’ve spent time thinking about clones and AIs, I feel that I’ll be okay when they do finally show up whereas most people will probably freak out. I hope these essays will get people to start thinking about the future because, no matter what we do, the future is coming.

Brain for Rent and other stories

Brain for Rent and other stories is a collection of five of my short scifi stories to give a sampling of my writing. The collection includes: “Brain for Rent” about a ne’re-do-well failed writer with a conceptual implant who discusses his work with a young woman thinking of getting an implant herself. “The Demonstration” is about a different young woman wanting to show off her latest body modification. “Self Imprisonment” offers one solution of safe keeping the backup copy of yourself. “The Best Job Ever” is about a necessary – yet unpleasant – human/alien interaction. And the collection ends with “Why Stay?” which explains why, after years of fighting the humans, the robots just deactivate.

An Ounce of Prevention

Like most people, Jason Fisher wanted to make the world a better place, but he doubted he would ever have the chance to make much of a mark. Then a “woman” came to him, asking his help to save humanity by threatening it.

Lonely Phoenix

Partway to a new colony world, board member Geoffrey Ames is woken from hibernation by the caretaking crew of the Lucian. They require him to look into the matter of their fellow crewman Morgan Heller. Morgan’s claims – such as being over 1500 years old – would normally land him in the psychiatric ward, except he can back up some of his other claims.