Earlier this year, I entered a writing competition that involves writing stories under restrictions, including a time limit. This is the one that I submitted for round one, that required a science-fiction story, featuring a contestant as a character along a theme of a lost cause. It had to be written in eight days. Still waiting to hear back about if I've proceeded to round two or not, so please be nice... Content warning: the story is about having the right to have children, so if that's going to cause you any problems, possibly best not to read this one. “Doctor – proximity is now sufficient to overcome the degradation in the radio signal.” The ship’s computer spoke in its toneless voice, waking Rose Lawrence from her sleep. She pulled herself from her bunk at the back of the pilot’s cabin and stretched with a yawn. Padding over to the control panels, she looked at the monitors, quickly confirming what the computer had said. “Analyse,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Can you confirm our earlier speculation?” She’d been chasing this signal for months, heading out of explored space. When she first found it, the computer could only make out a scrambled voice and what might have been a cry for help. “Yes, Doctor,” the computer answered. “It sounds human, and seems to be a distress call on loop, though the point of origin is still distant. It is likely that we are already too late to render assistance.” “Regardless, we need to find out,” replied Lawrence. She yawned again, pulling a brush through her hair. If she had, as she suspected, found a human colony, lost since Earth’s evacuation, she should investigate, even if they didn’t need help. “Set course, maximum speed, and playback the message.” “Hello,” started the voice. It sounded female and anxious. “I hope there is somebody out there who can hear this. We are in desperate need ….” Alison walked into her house, striving to look calm. Only once she was inside did she lower herself into a chair and let it sink in. After years of thinking about it, she had finally registered. If she was lucky, she would have a chance at a child. If she was monumentally lucky. From another room, she heard the viewscreen playing – it sounded like an old historical documentary about Earth. It seemed like that kind of programme had been playing a lot recently, and she knew that Darren enjoyed them. She didn’t share his enthusiasm, but she could understand it – there was an attraction to looking back at a happier, if more naïve, time. Right then, Alison certainly didn’t want to be focussing on the past, and she couldn’t talk to Darren yet. Ignoring the sounds of surprise from her husband, she left to walk next-door. The automated door opened, and she called out: “Zoe! You here?” Zoe entered the hallway, wearing a light dressing gown that contrasted with their dark skin, towelling their hair dry. “Course I’m here. Door wouldn’t have let you in if I wasn’t.” They stopped when they saw Alison and stared at her. “You alright?” “I don’t know,” Alison replied. If she won, her life would never be the same again. Zoe bustled her in and sat her down, moving to sit nearby. They didn’t immediately ask anything, which Alison appreciated, still collecting her thoughts. “I did it, Zoe – I registered at the Commission.” Zoe didn’t respond for a moment, but then their mouth opened wide and they wrapped their arms around Alison in an excited embrace. “That’s amazing!” they exclaimed into Alison’s shoulder. “Have you told Darren?” “Not yet,” Alison replied. “There’ll be time for that if I win. If I don’t, then there’s no point.” Zoe released Alison from the hug and held her at arm’s length. “Well, sure,” they pushed, “but don’t you think your husband might want a bit of time to get used to the idea of you winning a chance to sleep with another guy?” Alison felt her face redden. “You know it’s not like that. It’s all very clinical – I’ll never even meet the guy. And Darren knows I want a child – he wants that too. I just don’t want to…” She quietened. “You don’t want to…” Zoe prompted. “If he gets excited about it and then I lose, it will be even worse. And let’s face it, my chances aren’t high – there are thousands of other applicants.” As she spoke, Alison realised that there were tears on her face. To have a child, her own child – sometimes the need was almost overwhelming. “Hey, I get it,” said Zoe, reaching out again, and laying their hand on their friend’s shoulder. “You want to keep it secret; I’ll respect that.” Alison shook her head, trying to regain control. Zoe pulled Alison into a full embrace again. “Don’t you worry, girl,” they whispered. “I’ve got your back. Now, let me go make you a drink.” The initial test results were ready a month to the day. Even knowing how tightly regulated the process was hadn’t stopped Alison checking constantly, just in case they were early. She’d chosen to walk to receive them, rather than take the hovercar, knowing that keeping up her level of fitness was even more important than usual, but now, with her stomach churning, she wished she was there already. The streets were quiet, with only occasional bustles of people to navigate around. One woman held the hand of a little girl, and Alison had to stop herself staring after them as they passed. The stores displayed luxury items in flashing adverts as she passed the windows – the only things people ever needed to buy now. Some things, though, money couldn’t buy. Outside the Commission, the usual protestors were chanting and waving electronic slogans. She raised her hand over her face and looked down to stop them recognising her and harassing her later. So many people who lived in the city simply saw the excess everywhere and that they could afford it. They saw they were almost in utopia, and thought the Commission was the only thing standing its way, controlling society’s ability to reproduce. Alison could understand why they were angry; they were so afraid of what the Commission represented, what its very existence asserted about the future, but it made her despair that their solution was to get in the Commission’s way. Her initial medical tests were clear, but before she could even jump for joy, let alone process it, she was escorted onto a Mag-Train out the city. Few people made such journeys – there was little need, and even less inclination. However, to avoid the protestors, the Commission’s main test centre was outside city limits. Out of the window, Alison saw empty streets filled with empty homes, building projects that would never be completed, because nobody would ever use those buildings. Her reflection stared back at her, life against loss, and for a moment she had the disconcerting feeling she was the only person alive in the world. She felt tears on her face. So many people that could have been here but weren’t. Each generation smaller than the last. Each desperately hoping to find an answer and reverse the trend. To no avail. Many despaired and gave up. Alison chose to hope – that she, or anybody else, or even her potential child, might find a way. But then, wasn’t the job of a parent, even a prospective one, to hope for their child, and dream of what they might accomplish, of the world they might create? And, oh, she had such dreams… The Mag-Train moved swiftly; in less than an hour she reached the testing facility. The quiet was eery; she wondered if the security person who met her at the station was used to it, or if they longed to return to the city each night. Part of Alison wished that more people would leave the city and see beyond “utopia”, but another selfish part of her was just glad to be able to enter without any difficulties. Alison entered her living room to see Zoe coming in through the front door, carrying a bottle of wine. She smiled, embracing her friend, who quickly put down the bottle and returned the hug. “I take it your tests went well?” Zoe asked. Alison let go and stepped back. “Yes – very well.” She couldn’t keep the jubilation out of her voice, even though rationally, she knew she shouldn’t be excited yet. “I’m compatible with the treatment, and within the top 10% for both physical and intellectual scores. There are just the values tests to go now.” Zoe had been finding wine glasses and pouring. “I am very glad to hear it. I’ve had this bottle of wine for ten years - a gift from the last network director when he retired – and I wouldn’t want to waste it. You know, you can’t get this wine anymore.” “Maybe we should save it then, for after I get the final results?” Alison hoped she sounded convincing – true wine was such a treat that she didn’t really want to pass it up. Zoe shook their head. “Don’t even go there. I brought this wine to be drunk. Now, tell me about the tests. They’re so hush hush about it all; my listeners would love the inside scoop!” Alison laughed as she took the glass she was being handed. “I can’t tell you much,” she explained. “There is a reason it’s all so hush hush – the Commission are committed to the system, so they don’t want people learning to game it. Just think of it as the world’s most gruelling exercise session with monitors attached, followed by exams and problem-solving tests.” Zoe gave a fake pout. “You’re no fun,” they complained. “Do you meet any of the other hopefuls?” Alison shook her head after taking a sip. “No. It’s really strange - I’m engaged in this elaborate contest, and I don’t even get to see who I’m up against. There are thousands of us competing for a handful of treatments, and the others could be anybody.” Zoe raised their hand. “You think that’s strange!” they replied. “We live in a post-scarcity world, but our entire existence is reliant on a treatment so rare that we have elaborate and secretive competitions to work out who is allowed to have children.” “I know,” Alison nodded. “We’re not dead yet though – we can still turn it around. Every child has the chance of being the one to find a solution.” Words she had heard since she was born; she, like everybody else, a product of successful tests. “Yeah,” Zoe mimicked more of the infomercial. “Which is why each child has to have the best chance from the best parents. Anyway – have you told Darren yet? He needs to be involved in the values test, doesn’t he? It’s so unfair that the people applying to be fathers don’t need go through the rest of it.” Alison nodded. “I’m telling him tonight – we’re going out for dinner. We’re going to need to work hard to show that we’ll bring the child up properly, but that we aren’t so similar that the child ends up too narrow-minded, and we don’t even know what the questions will be. And we can’t access the parenting class unless we’re going to be parents!” Zoe stood, draining their wine glass. “Well, you’ll want to get ready for tonight then, and I don’t want to get in your way. Let me know how it goes! Keep the wine – Darren should enjoy some too.” Alison sank into her sofa when she returned home from the values tests and immediately called Zoe. She needed to talk to somebody, and both she and Darren had sat in silence, considering their own experiences until it was too late - Darren had started work as soon as they were back in the city. Conveniently, he worked security at the Commission’s main city facility, but that meant that they hadn’t even been able to talk about their tests before she’d been ushered out the building. Zoe picked up straightaway. “What’s wrong?” they asked immediately. “I think we messed it up. I don’t know – I’ve just left the tests with a really bad feeling.” Alison’s voice was muted, and she wasn’t sure what was giving her the feeling of dread. Had they messed up their tests? At this point, it was impossible to know. The crowds around the Commission building had seemed angrier than usual today, which always shook her. Perhaps that was all it was. “What happened? Do you want me to come over?” Zoe’s voice was filled with concern. “No, no – don’t come over,” Alison insisted. “I don’t know what’s wrong – I just have a bad feeling.” Alison could hear Zoe’s viewscreen faintly in the background – not enough for words, but enough to pick up on the tone. It sounded like a news report, and the reporter sounded anxious. “Looks like you got home just in time,” Zoe muttered. “The protests around the Commission have turned into a full-blown riot. Doesn’t Darren work there?” Alison turned on her own viewscreen to watch the same news story, seeing what Zoe had reported. A riot around the Commission’s City facility. Protestors fighting with security. She heard a beep from her commsputer. “Zoe – I’m sorry, I have another call. Talk to you later?” Zoe agreed and Alison pressed the button to transfer to the other call. “Doctor Etso?” A male voice inquiring. “Yes,” Alison replied. “Who is this?” “Doctor Etso – this is Doctor Maddison. I’m calling from the hospital. I’m afraid your husband has been injured. Can you come in?” Zoe opened the door to Alison’s. “Hey?” they called, placing flowers on a counter. Alison gave her friend a tired smile. “Hey”. Zoe moved to hug her, “How’s Darren?” “He’s sleeping upstairs,” Alison replied. “He’ll be ok.” “Have you heard the news?” asked Alison. Zoe shook their head. “The rioters destroyed part of the treatment supply,” Alison continued. “They haven’t revealed how much is left, but…” They both lapsed into silence. “I got the message this morning that I won,” Alison said after a few moments. “I guess I get part of that supply. I’m going to … to... to be a mother…” “And you and Darren will make great parents,” said Zoe. “Maybe your kid will be the one to solve this.” Alison gave her friend that same tired smile. “We can hope. I just … people are trying to destroy our only chance. I don’t… I just… What if my baby is alone?” Zoe stopped her. “They won’t be. And, anyway, my station have started something. We’ve dedicated one of our radio masts to sending a request for help into space. Even if nobody on our planet can solve this, there might be somebody else out there who can.” The planet below Lawrence was clearly the origin of the signal – the ship’s systems could pinpoint the mast, still transmitting within a deserted city.
“Computer – scan the planet,” ordered Lawrence. She’d known that they might be too late but was still hoping against hope that there might be something left. “Zero human life, doctor,” replied the computer, its monotone at odds with its pronouncement. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “Too late then?” she asked, not expecting an answer. “I believe we were too late before we began,” responded the computer. Lawrence nodded. “Let’s go down. We owe it to Zoe to at least learn what we can.”
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The final part of last week's story - if you missed the beginning, you can find it here. I watched the sky earnestly, waiting to see other snowmen. I didn’t know where Spring slumbered, so I had to rely on the others to guide me. The clock struck eleven times before I saw them again and I took to the air to follow them. A different direction this time – I could feel both my garden and the old meeting place getting farther and farther away.
As we flew, I looked through the skies and saw that hundreds of us had joined this flight. Of course, none of the others would have spoken to their children as I had. None of the others would understand why the spring must come, all of those wonderful things that Bethany had told me about. I would be truly alone amongst them all. As I saw the others start to descend, I did the same and we walked into a cave. Descending into the ground, we came to a cavern and there, lying on a bed of leaves, with a blanket of moss, was a young girl. She was warmed by a fire in a heath, which the snowmen kept their distance from. Except for Gloves. He led this group, and he went immediately to that fire, and tore a handful of snow from his chest, dropping it onto the flames and creating steam. A few others, seeing his example, did the same, and soon the fire was gone. The cavern became notably cooler with the lack of the fire, but not enough for Gloves. He and another snowman moved her mossy blanket, and I was struck by how much this young girl reminded me of Bethany. The other snowmen, at Gloves’s direction, started to scoop handfuls of snow from themselves and bury her in them, but I couldn’t join them. I couldn’t break my promise to Bethany. But I also couldn’t see how to stop them. Gloves noticed me and my lack of engagement with the activity. He walked over. “What’s wrong, Scarf?” he asked. Suddenly, the scarf that I had been so proud of seemed a very little thing when he used it to name me. The previous night, when other snowmen had done the same, it had been a thing to take pride in – that I had one when other did not. But now I had a name. “Rudy,” I said quietly. “What?” said Gloves. “My name is Rudy,” I replied. “Not Scarf. Not Seven-Fingers. Rudy.” When I told him my own name, I had the same feeling as when Bethany had first given it to me. I liked my name and what it meant to me. It was me. “Fine,” Gloves responded. “Rudy, whatever. Is there a problem?” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No problem.” “So, why aren’t you giving of yourself? Everybody else is. You are being selfish, Rudy.” I supposed that, from his perspective, I was. I approached Spring as she slept, now shivering from the mass of snow upon her. I scooped out some of myself and placed it on her as well. Gloves gave a nod and when everybody had done so, he gathered us all together again. “It is done,” he said, triumphantly with his arms raised. “Spring will now sleep forever. The thaw will not come, and we will be eternal.” There was a cheer from the other snowmen. I raised my arms to blend in but couldn’t bring myself to join the chorus. “Let us return, and report to our fellows what we have done.” And, with those words, Gloves took to the air, and I could feel that he was heading to the meeting place. I had no desire to go with them and hoped that I would be unnoticed. Once I was alone, I returned to the cave and pushed the snow from Spring. It was a long job – she was heavily covered – and then I returned her blanket, but it did not help. I carefully removed my scarf and wrapped it around her, but it did not help. She still shivered; the cold having seeped into her. It would take more than I could do to warm her again. I needed to restart the fire, but I didn’t know how. And there was only one person that I could ask. I left the cave again, hoping that Spring would be alright without her fire. Gloves had said that she would only sleep in the cold, but I had little faith that Gloves cared either way as long as he could continue to be. I took to the air and flew to my garden and approached the house. I didn’t know which window was Bethany’s bedroom. I tried the back door, where I had seen her emerge from and disappear to. It opened, and I was met with the warmth of inside. It was deeply uncomfortable, and I felt wet. I looked down and saw that I was dripping onto the floor. Was this what it felt like to melt? I moved quickly through the kitchen, leaving puddles behind me. I checked each room I came to, moving quietly, but leaving tracks that any would see. I moved up the stairs and continued to try rooms. Finally, I found the one where Bethany lay asleep and I moved over to her and, being careful not to lean over her and to drip on her, I reached out with one wooden hand and pushed her awake. Her eyes opened. She rubbed them. She looked at me. They widened. Before she could say anything, I spoke: “Bethany – I need your help.” She nodded and pushed back her blankets, quickly awake. “What do you need?” she whispered. “I need to make a fire.” She didn’t ask why. She pulled on slippers and a dressing gown and crept downstairs with me. When she saw the puddles that I had left behind me, she pushed me outdoors again, where it was refreshingly cool. However, I felt… diminished. I packed up snow from the ground, trying to add to myself, but it simply fell away, refusing to become a part of me. Soon, Bethany joined me with a bag of things. I didn’t ask, and she didn’t show me – I trusted that she had what would be needed. She’d added a big coat over her dressing gown and had swapped her slippers for wellington boots. “Alright, Rudy,” she said, smiling at me. “Where do you need the fire?” “Hold my hand,” I told her, and she did. I lifted into the air and, somehow, she came with me. I flew us back to Spring’s cave and led Bethany in. She didn’t seem at all surprised by the flight, but she did have a large grin on her face. “This is Spring,” I said to her when we reached the cavern. The young girl was still shivering, in spite of what I’d tried to do. “She has your scarf,” said Bethany as she came in and looked at the girl. “I was trying to warm her up,” I said. “Can you make the fire here?” I pointed to the damp hearth. Bethany nodded. “My dad says that this will light anything.” She pulled a bottle out of her bag and poured some of the contents over the wet wood in the fire. She followed this with bits of paper and some white blocks of… something. “Step back,” she said to me. “I don’t really know how much of this to use, and it might be too much.” I did as she had advised, and Bethany took a small piece of wood out of a box and moved it quickly against the side of the box. Once, twice, three times. On the third movement, it lit, and a small flame could be seen. Slowly and carefully, Bethany moved the tiny flame to the fire that she had prepared and moved them together. As they touched, there was a loud whoomph sound and fire climbed from the hearth. I felt the heat of it even from where I was standing and felt myself begin to drip again. I looked over to Spring – her shivering had stopped. Fleeing the fire, we moved outside again and sat in the snow. It was good to be in the cool again, and Bethany was smiling too, no doubt enjoying her adventure. We stayed there for some time, though I don’t know how long. We were enjoying each other’s company, and we played properly, without concern for who might see me. We ran, and we laughed, knowing that our time was short. “What have you done, Rudy?” The voice came whilst I was rolling around in the snow with Bethany. I sat up and saw that Gloves was staring at me. I climbed to my feet, trying to keep Bethany behind me. “What have you done, Rudy?” He asked the question again, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. “Not only have you revealed yourself to a child, but you’ve reversed what we did here tonight, didn’t you?” I nodded as he approached. “I suppose that I will have to set it right then,” Gloves said, taking me by the hand and pulling me into the cave again, ignoring Bethany who was sitting in the snow. “This time, I’ll just use your snow to bury her – I’m not asking the others to sacrifice again.” He was stronger than me – perhaps I had lost too much in my melting – and he could easily drag me behind him. “Hey! Let Rudy go!” Bethany’s voice carried from behind us. Gloves laughed at her and turned for a moment, swiping out at her with his gloved hand. He was stronger even than she, and she left her feet, hitting the cavern wall. She slumped to the ground. And with that, I found my strength. I pulled myself out of Gloves’s grip, not caring for how much bigger than me, or how much stronger than me he might be. I ran for Spring’s chamber and felt the oppressive heat again. Spring was starting to move – stirring under had moss blanket. Bethany had overdone it, but now that fact would be our salvation. I picked up a branch from the fire, feeling the heat of it diminish me, even as I moved back towards Gloves who was just entering the chamber. I swung the fire at him and saw that he started to glow in the light of it as well – that tell-tale sheen that showed that he was melting too. He tried to stay back, but there wasn’t room to move in the rocky passageway. I kept coming, not caring for the heat, not caring for what it was doing to me. Bethany was hurt, and I was going to stop him. I pushed him back against the wall and held the burning wood close to us both. He tried to reach for it, tried to smother the fire with his gloved hand. It didn’t work – whatever Bethany had put the wood was keeping it from going out. And, as we stood there, staring at each other, we both melted away. I don’t know how long it was before I was again. I felt that same feeling of being constructed and then, when my eyes were added, of suddenly knowing. A voice spoke to me as soon as I was completed. “Hello again, Rudy.” It was Bethany. And, beside her, stood Spring. I fussed over Bethany, making sure she was ok from the fight. I looked round for Gloves, but the parts of him that weren’t snow were lying on the ground besides the cave entrance, including his signature gloves. I raised my own hands, and found I had my scarf back. Spring didn’t say anything to me, though Bethany told me that the two of them had talked whilst I was melted. Bethany never told me what they had said though – it had to be a secret and, as she had told me, she was the best secret-keeper. I flew her home, waving goodbye to Spring, and knowing that I would melt again when we returned to the garden. When the sun came up in the morning, it would be warmer, and would bring the thaw with it. But I did get her home before dawn came, and she snook back into her bedroom. As she turned away, she simply said, “See you next time, Rudy.” I didn’t understand, but I waved to her. And I watched the sun rise, and I felt it’s warmth. It doesn’t hurt to melt, thankfully. It’s actually kind of a nice feeling. Though I did feel that I was going to miss Bethany. It didn’t feel like any time at all before I was existing again. Being built. Having my eyes added. Those same words. “Hello again, Rudy.” Bethany was bigger then – a year had passed. Spring had been early the previous year, and there hadn’t been another snowfall. I had my same arms and hands, the same seven fingers. I had my hat and, again, my scarf. Most importantly, I had my name. And so, we spent what time together we had, and we both felt that it was special because it so short. And our time came to an end. And the next time there was snow, she would build me again, with the same branches that she saved, and the same hat, and the same scarf, and the same words – “Hello again, Rudy.” And each year, we would meet again – almost for the first time, but with memories of the last times. And she always had so much to tell me. I spent my nights at the snowman meetings and was soon the most knowledgeable there. My memories of previous times were stronger than any those held by any other, and whilst I tried to share the secret of names with them, it never worked as well, as their children lost interest after a few years. I stopped the snowmen from repeating what Gloves had tried, explaining that it was our ethereal nature that made our relationship with the children so joyous. Eventually, we reached the point where Bethany didn’t want to play anymore – and so we just talked. One year she asked if he could share our secret with a special friend – she was in her twenties by then. Of course, I said yes, and the next day she brought Steven to see me. As you’d expect, he was surprised to see me. The true joy though, was a few years after that, when Bethany built me, said my name, and there was a child. A young boy, named Carl, was there with Bethany and Steven. And he wanted to play. |
Flash FictionSome shorter fiction, usually based on some kind of challenge. Archives
October 2021
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