Tag Archives: one-hundred-word stories

Creativity, Fiction

Public Safety

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From the Microcosmicon, 18:

They show up at your door, armed.
“Have I done anything wrong?” you ask.
“Sir, the city’s population has dropped below critical level. You are required to supply the Municipal Authority with your semen.”
“Why me?”
“Your profile has been selected based on our genetic database.”

So you sigh, you follow them, you comply.
You realize now there’s a small being growing in an artificial womb, somewhere, who is like you.

One day, they show up again.
“Sir, the child is defective. Your genetic map contained some errors. You must follow us. I’m sorry, but it’s for public safety reasons.”

In the Public Interest

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

The Virtue Signal

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From the Microcosmicon, 17:

If God Exists He’s a Hippie.

Science Confirms: Universe Wants Us to Make Love, Not War.

Harmony of the Spheres Makes Aggressive Lab Rats Love Each Other.

‘Virtue Signal Key to World Peace,’ Says Scientist Who Harnessed Mysterious Space Frequency to Tame Lions.

First Experiment on Humans Confirms: Virtue Signal Effective in Conflict-Solving.

Legislators Looking Into Uses of Virtue Signal. ‘Only in Extreme Cases.’

Virtue Signal Used on Difficult Schoolchildren. Why It’s a Good Thing.

Crime Rate Drops Thanks to Virtue Signal. World Peace Next.

Unidentified Objects Sighted Over DC.

‘Negotiations with Invaders Successful,’ Says President After World Population Decimated.

The Virtue Signal

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

A Sociosyntonic Disorder

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From the Microcosmicon, 16:

They streamed down the street, groaning like a storm-bearing wind, their bodies emaciated, covered in sores.
Screams. They grabbed hold of a girl. In another moment, her head was cracked open, her brains devoured.

I watched from my balcony, horror sliding down the surface of my mind, without living much of an impression.
Then I retreated into my kitchen, put out the cigarette, approached the fridge and opened it. Leftovers from my last meal greeted me, his brain marinated with ricotta cheese.

I heard them approach my driveway.
Excitement enlivened me. I knew the right crowd would swing by, eventually.

A Sociosyntonic Disorder

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

The Origins of Morality

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From the Microcosmicon, 15:

In my enthusiasm, I twirled the gun so quickly it flew off my hand and a laser shot hit my wristwatch. I retrieved it gingerly.
The doors opened, and I finally met my commissioner.

I consider myself unprincipled. You pay me, you get results. But before me was something not merely alien, but inhuman.
“Welcome, Mr. Long,” it said through countless foetid mouths, stretching scaly arms toward the gun.
Chink. Chink. My eyes fell on the dozens of wristwatches that were heaping on the floor.

I pointed the gun toward myself.
Shortly after, thousands of Mr. Longs left the spaceship.

The Origins of Morality

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

Allies

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From the Microcosmicon, 14:

The Xandal’uc slaves marched onto the Magna. The spaceship departed.
Ten days in, the captain spotted pirates.
“It’s our lucky day. More slaves!”

But clearly pirates were the lesser problem. The Hyperleeches they were fighting were more worrisome.
“We must join forces,” the pirates told the captain from the bluish, buzzing screen.
“We don’t have enough manpower.”
“Of course you do.”
So the slaves were freed, the Hyperleeches vanquished.

“Now help us with the Xandal’uc,” said the captain.
“Sorry, that’s too much to ask of free men,” the pirates laughed, leaving.
The slaves approached the captain. They were not amused.

Fighting the Hyperleeches

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

The Mellified Man

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From the Microcosmicon, 13:

“Exactly what are we doing here, Marjorie?”
Nettie untangled her dress from a shrub, pushing thick spectacles back on her nose.
“Why, I’m showing you that face cream you asked me about,” Marjorie said. Her skin glistened in the moonlight. She looked thirty years younger.
“I thought you made it at home with honey.”
“Honey’s just how I preserve it, silly.”

They ventured deeper into the forest. Nettie felt lost.
Then, in a clearing, they saw it. Gray, large-headed, lost in peaceful contemplation.
Marjorie pressed a knife in Nettie’s hands. “Now, don’t be all squeamish, dear. Beauty has its price.”

The Mellified Man

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

Artificially Generated Predictions Concerning the Most Likely Behavior of OneNet’s Netizens by RealValues, Inc.

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From the Microcosmicon, 11:

“At 12, problematic user IIX-P0-1287719 will make a controversial statement on a culturally sensitive topic.
At 13, users whose ID divides by three will gather to work themselves into fits of outrage over it.
At 14.45, even-numbered IDs will organize a parallel demonstration in favor of it.
Users whose ID fits both profiles will stay home and comment sarcastically, unless their ID divides by five as well, in which case they will engage in other social activities.
Likely topic: the wages of Xandal’uc workers (Probability: 78%)
Shall I start the production of merchandise for both sides?”
RealValues’ manager smiled.
“Ok.”

An AI predicts the future for RealValue, Inc.

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

The Visionary

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From the Microcosmicon, 10:

Riddle me this. I’ll try to present my case as succinctly as possible, and you will be the judge.

You graduate top of your class. You win study grants. You travel the world. You lecture in crowded halls. Everyone praises you for your special vision and your daring challenge of academic conventions. You have something no one else has, they say, and they encourage you.

Then, finally, you land in the space program. They are sure you will discover something unbelievable.
And I did.

Why then, If I may ask, am I the one wasting away in a padded room?

The Visionary

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

Problem Solvers

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From the Microcosmicon, 9:

On that planet, it seems, technology had reached such a degree of perfection that no problem had been left unsolved. To this day, in all corners of the galaxy, whispers are whispered of their wondrous inventions.

But those visiting the planet today report of the immense silence that envelops everything. A depthless emptiness is over all, unchallenged.
Nor are there first-hand accounts of this alien folk.

Some of their fascinating trinkets have reached us, but not a single one of their myths or tales, not one of their beliefs. As if, together with problems, they had run out of ideas.

Problem Solvers

MQS

Creativity, Fiction

Like the Wind

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From the Microcosmicon, 8:

The psychonauts’s capsule plunged into the collective psychic pool. The mysterious song no one had been able to identify slithered between their minds like the wind, guiding them away from the surface.

Lyrics evaporated one word into the other, notes became colors and colors became suns, and queen bees nested in them.

There it was, lodged between a memory and a desire for more, the cosmic song whose origin they’d been commissioned to investigate. They managed to unstick it.

Excited, they made for the surface. But they’d strayed too far. The mystery they’d entered was dissolving, fog-like, sweeping them along.

the most mysterious song on the internet

MQS