I'm in love with a robot. Thing is, she doesn't even notice. She doesn't even have any feelings, whatsoever. Her positronic net doesn't have the capacity for joy, or anger, or love.
Naturally, this poses a problem.
How do I tell her about my feelings? She knows the dictionary definition of love. But she doesn't know the meaning. I have no idea how she would take it. Would she just acknowledge it, and then continue on with her work?
The worst part is, the fact that she has no emotions is part of the reason I love her. She can't...
This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to feel this way; about your mother-in-law. But didn't the saying go, if you wanted to know what your wife would look like in 30 years...and that was another thing. She only had another few years in her. Her husband wasn't giving it to her. I'm a goddamn octo-phile, he thought. Was that the word? But she was perfect -- an insurance commercial, the cover of Mature Living, hell, the centerfold.
"Theo, is everything all right, dear?" Theo had begun mumbling to himself.
"Yes, mom. I'll have another hot dog, if you...
It was really quite simple. I called him in to prepare my nightly tea time, he walked into the room and I shot him between the eyes.
Was really his fault. He couldn't be counted on to keep quiet about my nature. Still, it was fun while it lasted. I called in the maids and they promptly set upon his body for removal. It was something like a week and I had gone through almost a dozen staff. They buzzed like flies when I needed them, but just could not keep to themselves when it came to keeping secrets.
So...
f18000. that was what he was being paid for murder. She'd seen to much. She was the key to blowing the case wide open. He scanned the crowded mall, looking for the face in the photo. He spotted it, and reeled back in surprise. She was just a teenager, barely old enough to drive. He pulled himself together, then put the newly loaded gun back in his waistband. He tracked the victim out of the mall and into the parking lot. She was completely oblivious, laughing and talking with her friends. She said good bye and made her way across...
It was morn in the Garden of the Hesperides. Clouds of warm mist floated around, cloaking everything in white. The three Hesperides were dancing around Hera's golden apple tree, singing to make it grow. Ladon burst from his cave, growling. "Everyone's a critic. Quiet Ladon! You're upsetting the tree!" Hope, the eldest Hesperide, yelled at their scaly roomate. They sat down near the roots of the enormous tree and waited for their 9:00 appointment. "Cousin Apollo should be here in 3...2...1." Peace said, looking at the vines.
The plough boy Tom burned a different colour; a mix of jealous green and blue regret. Typical of a young man, losing his purse in an unfair wager.
The witch could see two snakes writhing in the boy's head. Still, to his credit, he kept his tongue when ill placed words would have caused much harm to all present. If he could weather the coming storm, he would have grown into his boots, as Meg's mother would have said.
Each person crushed into Meg's cot had their own story to tell. Maybe his was hasty revenge and slower repentance. Either...
Okay, Mary. Don't panic. You've planned for this occasion. First, you've gotta find a way to contact your employer and let them know you'll be home sick today. Hopefully they still have phones in the future. Actually, first thing you've gotta do is look in the mirror and then find the date.
Wow, I haven't aged well at all. When did I let myself get so fat and wrinkly? What happened in college? Do I have kids? Hooboy.
Eureka! There's the office. Nice. It looks like computers are much more sleek. ACK! It powered on by itself. 2030? Holy crap,...
The dream was better than waking. I floated, all the past troubles seeming to dissipate before my very eyes. Luke was nowhere to be seen, which was a relief, because in days past he had haunted my dreams mercilessly. I noticed that there was no one else in my dream, just a thick, white mist. Like a feather bed, i laid in the unusally substantial mist, in a mystical dreamlike state. I saw a shape, a dark figure coming through the fog. It was Nyxie, my facility director. Her red hair floated like me, but she kept to the ground....
she tracked him to the cafe. it wasn't right that her past was in his mind, and not her own. she watched his every move. when he sat down, she entered. she sat across from him, acting as if this was perfectly normal. "I need to aquire the information you're carrying. that information doesn't belong in your hands, anyhow." she said. "I don't know what you're talking about." he said simply, taking a sip of the dark liquid swirling in his glass. "I'm talking about my past. my parents, the journal, the apprentice, everything." she said, softer with every word....
Turning the copper penny over and over between his fingers, Miguel slowly let out a long sigh. He stared at the penny that rested upright between his middle and pointer finger, perfectly round, and now perfectly worn, so much so, that one could barely distinguish Abe Lincoln sitting in that giant chair, save for honest Abe's long beard.
Miguel walked on through the dusty streets of a town that sat on the border between his country and the golden land of opportunity. The burning sun started to set, slowly making its way down the flat horizon, setting fire to everything...