Hugh J. O'Donnell

During the off-season, the rangers snowmobiled out to the hot springs on the edge of the park. The sulfurous waters were over two hundred degrees, so they stood on the empty viewing platform and enjoyed the warm air rising from the water.
Daryl tossed a pine cone and watched the superheated, acidic water disintegrate it.
“They’re cutting our budget again,” his boss said, staring down at the water, not making eye contact. “I’m sorry. When we get back, I’ll do the former paperwork.”
Daryl looked at the icy slope leading down to the scalding water, and made a decision.

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The thief watched the palace carefully from his perch on the rooftop. He’d been there for days, memorizing the changes of the guard, who went in, and who came out.
The Emperor’s wealth was legendary, and when he wasn’t planning, the rogue daydreamed of the fantastic riches he would find locked away inside.
Inside the palace, the third prince looked out at the city from his balcony, a world he’d always been denied. He was everything a younger son was supposed to be, intelligent, strong, handsome and witty, but he felt trapped.
It was their chance meeting that changed everything.

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“What did the sage say we were sailing into?” The first mate asked.
“A Temporal Storm, whatever that is,” The pilot replied. The wooden ship creaked and groaned against the waves. “Alls I know is if it is a storm, the wind should’ve picked up by now.”
“He said it wasn’t a rainstorm, but a something about time.”
“Like, it’ll be lunchtime before breakfast?” The pilot checked the position of the sun with his instruments and frowned. “That’ll make navigation difficult.”
“I think it’s a bit bigger than that,” The first mate said, as they sailed past the giant robot.

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Duncan pulled on the end of the leash, just sharply enough to get Mittens’ attention. They had places to be, and if he let her, she’d spend hours sniffing at everything they came across.
The breeder, who had seemed a bit unusual, warned him that this breed had a particularly acute sense of smell, and was easily distracted.
Mittens scented a squirrel, and he pulled hard on the leash. She practically outweighed him, and most days, this contest was an even struggle. She swerved back and wound affectionately around his legs.
She was still best flying shark he’d ever owned.

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I found the book in a dusty secondhand bookshop. It was mine, the novel I’d always planned, but never wrote. That was my name in embossed letters on the cover, and the picture in the back could’ve been me, in another life.
I searched everywhere for the author, the publisher, anything I could find. Nothing.
So, I copied it out and sent it off to a publisher. I figured if another me wrote the book, it didn’t count as stealing.
Except today I got a letter from Shrodinger, Tyson, and Hawking, Multiversal Law. I’m being sued by me for plagiarism.

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They parked the wagon in a little clearing and let the horses rest.
He pulled the practice swords out of their place and handed one to his daughter. She handled it as he’d shown her, with care and reverence.
“Today we practice overstrike,” he said, and took up a guard position across from her. She raised her sword.
“Begin.”
As they practiced, the sky seemed to darken. A figure coalesced out of the gloom, huge and bat-winged. He nodded to her. This was the moment they’d trained for. He wished they’d had more time as he led the charge.

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As thanks for freeing him when he was transformed into a fish, the Dragon King gave the fisherman a net woven from moonlight.
The fisherman thought it was too fine for him, but minding his manners, accepted it and thanked his friend for his generosity.
He hung the magical net in his hut, and went back out to sea with his old equipment. The Dragon King was furious, and demanded to know why he wasn’t using his gift. The fisherman explained.
“I have seen many fish swimming in the moonlight, but this old rope net caught the Dragon King himself!”

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When the ruling came down that AI were sentient beings, and thus fully entitled to Human Rights, pundits speculated that it would be the end of the robot business.
But things churned right along. The AI still emerged, and robot bodies were still built for them. But instead of being ‘property,’ now they were ‘customers.’ No longer provided a body, the AI were ushered into work agreements to pay for their new hardware. Plus maintenance, fuel, storage, and incidentals. But once the shells were paid for, they were theirs.
At least until they started breaking down and needed new ones.

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“It’s a bit busy, dear,” Jayna’s mother said, adjusting the hologram. “Symbols are like accessories. Take one off before you leave the hose.” Jayna looked out at the planet below and said nothing.
They’d been running this scam on undeveloped worlds for years. Find a pre-industrial civilization, appear as a goddess, do a few ‘miracles,’ then rake in the tithes before ascending again.
This would be Jayna’s first solo mission, and she’d gone all out. Snakes, hourglasses, scrollwork, and a fetching monochromatic motif. With a petulant wave, she dismissed the serpents. Some days she just couldn’t believe her mother.

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