How to Live Forever, a short story in 499 words

My writers' group's End of Term Competition was for a 1000-word story with the theme 'Journey into Space'. The science fiction genre does not come easily to me and this is the result of several weeks of struggle. Was it worth it? Please post your Comment below.

Being President of a major corporation specialising in interplanetary travel had its benefits.

Jenny was trying out the latest innovative vacation for the busy executive, before launching it to the marketplace.

That’s how she came to be on a planet where time was slower by a factor of three, allowing her to take a three-month holiday in just one month away from the office.

Jenny’s holiday was about to be tarnished. She noticed an anomaly in the hologram masquerading as a magnificent 18^th century chandelier. The very latest virtual home fitting had been invaded by something as prosaic as a cobweb. She remembered her great grandmother’s stories about domestic drudgery, before self-cleaning homes existed. She also remembered the antidote -  a ‘feather duster‘ - so she consulted the House Computer, which would access the InterWeb and replicate one.

“Wise One”, she said, directing her voice to a point about an inch in front of her face, “Instruction: Search. Feather duster. Buy. Quantity: one.”

“Hello Mistress. Would you like a feather or a duster?” spoke the slightly husky, and very human voice.

“Not a feather. Not a duster. Instruction: Phrase Search. Feather duster.”

“Apologies Mistress, but clarification is required: what is a duster?”

“Wise One: Instruction: Search Historical Databases for appliance used in mid 20^th century homes to remove cobwebs. Feather duster.”

“Searching databases” said the voice. “I have located 576,962 references to feather duster. When I add the search term ’buy’ the number of results is zero.”

Jenny slumped into a chair and was immediately regaled by Robby, who was programmed to tell her on the hour, every hour, his imminent duties. “It is 4 p.m. At 4.15 I must serve party food to the young master and his birthday guests. At 4.30 I must introduce the entertainer, a replication of a famous 20^th century comedian and his entourage. At 5.45 I must - “

Jenny immediately switched priorities, missing the end of the report as she rushed into the kitchen to greet her guests. Fifteen minutes later the butler interrupted the party, shepherded the children into the lounge, and announced, “Girls and boys, Ladies and Gentleman, I have the greatest pleasure in introducing one of the most versatile and long serving virtual comedians of all time.”

Before he could finish, a dozen tiny men with buck teeth rushed in, followed by a man with uncontrollable hair, wearing a red jacket, baggy trousers, and enormous shoes. Jenny relaxed and smiled, thinking of the old fashioned Blu-Ray discs in her family vault.

The first thing the entertainer did was to announce how tickled he was, to be here so very far from his home in Knotty Ash.

The second thing he did was to produce an implausibly large feather duster from behind his back, stretch up to the corner and brush away a small spider and his comfy little home.

Finally, he winked at Jenny, who beamed at everyone - how wonderful it was to live in civilised times!

 

Word count: 499

Written in Black, a short story in 498 words

My writers' group homework was a 500-word crime story. I wrote the first draft of this several years ago so I re-worked it to fit the required length. Any comments?

Brian looked at the diary and wondered why Joe had left it to him.

Joey Johnson used to run a Used Car dealership with Brian Ryan, who was surprised to inherit such a peculiar, and completely valueless, bequest. The two men had not parted on good terms when the business went bust. Certain financial irregularities had been revealed, and although Joe took the blame, he had never forgiven Brian for not owning up to his part in the creative accounting.

It was Brian’s wife, the eagle-eyed Brenda, who spotted the distinctive pattern in the diary entries, along with a series of names and numbers, disguised in a clumsy code. On the 25^th of every month Joe had taken an early morning ferry to Ostend, then a bus to to Amsterdam, before returning home before breakfast the following day. On the 26^th there was a coded message written in black – GBS25K.

Now the plan could take shape, and the clock started ticking.

Twenty four hours later Brian made a call, posing as Joe’s half-brother, breaking the news of his early death, suggesting he continued to smuggle diamonds for a monthly commission of £25,000.

Three days later Brian was leaving the lobby of an Amsterdam hotel, the proud owner of a new rucksack and a wash bag with a disposable razor, a shaving stick, and a plastic dish containing a diamond encrusted bar of soap. He would not have been so cheerful if he had seen the e-mail being sent at that very moment to Essex Police, from an anonymous source in Amsterdam, tipping them off about his activities, just as Joe had instructed.

Four hours later Brian sipped a pint as he chatted to an attractive middle aged woman dressed in the classic little black dress, black shoes, and a wide brimmed black hat.

Two hours after that they were sharing a cramped cabinette and Brian was revealing other items of clothing – all of them black.

Three more hours passed, and Brian woke to find he was alone – no sleeping partner, no rucksack, and no wash bag.

He visited the toilet, then the Purser’s Office to report the theft, then the shop, where he purchased a small netted bag containing 6 marbles that weighed about the same as the diamonds, then the toilet again.

Back on dry land, Brian was nervous as he approached the rendezvous and his mood was not lifted when he was tapped lightly on the shoulder and escorted to a police car.

Twelve hours later, after an embarrassing body search, a long interview about marbles, and a rather begrudging apology, Brian Ryan left the police station and made his way home.

He entered the house by the back door, kicked off his shoes, then climbed the stairs to the bedroom where he was met by his wife, naked save for a pair of black gloves. The diamonds were cradled in her outstretched hand.

“Well well, Detective Constable Brenda Ryan – what do we have here then?”