She sat by the fire and tended the coals. She swept the floors and put away the tools that the rest of the apprentices left lying around. It wasn’t because she wanted to be noticed, but because they were jobs that needed to be done. The smith was reluctant to take on a female apprentice, stating it ‘wasn’t women’s work.’ But her arms were strong and her resolve was stronger, and if he wouldn’t let her hold a hammer now, she could keep the fire burning until he did. She would make sure that hammer had someplace to strike home.
They had always lived on the hillside, back as far as anyone could remember. Generation after generation had hunted, gathered, and trapped here. Now the rest of them were leaving, scared off by a few earthquakes and mudslides. He harrumphed as he watched them load their packs and begin the walk to the plains. They had big ideas about making themselves gods. As though they could control how the flowers grew, or when the herds would foal. It was foolishness. Next, they’d think they could tell the sky when to rain. ‘Agriculture,’ they called it. It would never catch on.
The men opened the bunker hatch and found the angel waiting for them, hovering just above the ground. They fell to their knees in their frayed suits, heedless of the radiation. It had all been worth it: The planning, the campaigning, the war. Now the Kingdom of Heaven would arise. The angel looked down, lip curling in disgust as they gathered the souls of the innocent dead from the bombed-out city. This took a long time. “This is the message,” the angel said. “We are leaving.” They rose into the sky and left the men in the world they’d created.
Every year, the kingdom’s restauranteurs drew lots to see who would host the annual Mage’s Guild Symposium. The prestigious event drew mystics and sorcerers from miles around. This year’s meeting began with a cocktail hour where members met and boasted of their achievements, followed by a lavish dinner and speeches that usually, nobody paid much attention to. When young mage presented his research for a more efficient fireball, he was pressed by the audience for a demonstration. The next day, the guild sent an apology to the hall owner, along with funds to rebuild his establishment, just like last year.
It was supposed to be petty revenge. The sorcerer surrendered the bag of coins to the tax collector, only smirking a little. That night, the coins would grow little legs and skitter back to him. The spell was usually used as a prank to scare first-year students. He went to sleep dreaming of his wealth returning to him and woke up on a bed of coins. A small error in the spell’s structure caused it to spread, infecting every coin in the treasury. The sorcerer quickly packed up his little house and disappeared to start his new life of crime.
When he took the farm’s surplus crop into the town to sell, his mother and grandmother made sure he was protected. They gave him amulets and charms, and a cold-forged knife to protect himself. They warned him to count fingers, and never make no a promise or a bargain that he couldn’t keep. They told him to stay away from strangers and running water. But as the fog rolled in on his return home he became lost and found himself on a dock instead of the familiar bridge. Despite his caution, he still found himself taken away by the ferries.
When the brothers captured Medusa, they first went about rendering the monster harmless. They bound her hand and foot, and wrapped a blindfold tightly over her eyes. They beheaded the venomous serpents that crawled through her hair. While the gorgon wept in a corner, the trio argued over how and where to sell their bounty. When the crying turned to laugher, the eldest brother came up and boldly struck their bound captive. “What’s so funny, monster?” He asked. “They were never snakes,” she replied. “They’re hydras!” “Bring a torch, quickly!” The eldest brother called, but it was already too late.
The station owners held a ball every year on the Outer Ring, in a docking bay converted into a recreation 18th century ballroom. The guest list was exclusive, and the dress code black tie. The Safety Officer was appalled, but obligated to attend. When he arrived he caused a stir, but he’d followed the letter of the dress code, squeezing a cummerbund and dinner jacket over his space suit. His gloves were white. He endured criticism of his attire all through cocktail hour, but when the emergency docking alarm triggered during the salad course, he was the only one prepared.
There had been waves of protest and bad press, but the app rolled out their new AI tools anyway. The features, which had been developed using AI themselves, were a big hit, and traffic spiked again after shortly after the launch. The CEO looked at the numbers and felt victorious. He’d replaced nearly every employee with AI, and there had been some hiccups, but the numbers didn’t lie. They were more profitable than ever. This was the future. A sudden burst of alerts made him check his phone, and his heart sank. The board was replacing him with an AI.
When the wanderers stumbled across an unexpected oasis in the desert, they couldn’t believe their luck. They climbed a rise and found themselves looking down at a small forest of palm trees, laden with sweet, ripe fruit ringing pools of cool, clear water. It felt like a miracle. Some fell on their knees and gave thanks, while others rushed forward, intent on taking advantage of their good fortune. But none of them realized the truth until it was too late. Even a paradise is an ecosystem, and all ecosystems have an apex predator. The beast watched their approach with interest.
Hugh J. O'Donnell 