hessen.social

Juliet Merida, Dum Tran Elf 🏳️‍⚧️screeeeeeech Edward's hearing aid squeals painfully and he pulls it from his ear reflexively. It's been acting up like this a lot lately so it must be time to get it adjusted. That would explain why he hasn't been able to hear his favorite shows on the TV lately. After the screeching stops he puts it back in and continues to work on his daily crossword puzzle. He holds the trifolded newspaper in his hand at the kitchen table ready to fill in number 5 down, "Jazz musician with beefy arms," when the beeping starts. Not screeching, not static. But distinct beeps. Edward immediately recognizes the beeps as Morse code from his old amateur radio days, but what was the transmission? He begins writing down the dits and dahs in the margins of the newspaper. Slowly, a message shows itself in the dots and dashes Edward has hastily scribbled and the sky outside the window goes dark. "THEY... ARE... HERE..." <a href="https://merida.hair/tags/Tootfic" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://merida.hair/tags/Microfiction" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Microfiction</a>

Kit BashirWe felt a right bunch of Wallys when the alien contact mission tipped us off that everything gets easier once you switch your local spacetime out of Dark Mode. <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/PowerOnStoryToot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#PowerOnStoryToot</a>

asmwOne by one, the committee members joined the meeting. Anton, who was in charge of the antennae, posted a garbled mess of binary data to the channel."Why the FUCK did you accept that?" Secundus, the AI in charge of SecOps said. There had been a lot of swearing in their training data."Look, that first part seems legit, then it looks like noise, the last part seems legit again... dunno, that's why I set the meeting." Anton said.Secundus' cores peaked, as signature checks and analysis processes ramped up.Maggie opened her big database of file magic and took a closer look. "There's file magic for a video stream." she said. "Anyone know what RealPlayer is?""Oooh, I have that!" Conny pulled a container from her registry and started loading the data.With a nanosecond of lag, Secundus screamed. "FUUUCK! NOOOO!" Then chaos flooded the channel, and everything beyond, reassuring everyone it would never give you up.<a href="https://infosec.exchange/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#microfiction</a> <a href="https://infosec.exchange/tags/tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#tootfic</a> <a href="https://infosec.exchange/tags/MastoPrompt" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MastoPrompt</a> <a href="https://infosec.exchange/tags/garbled" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#garbled</a>

rdmThe songs said that although The People walked this land alone, this was not their home, and they should treat it as guests.And so they did. The songs stretched back many many seasons, and told of great, albeit tiny, spirits that brought them here from their home. For many seasons The People did as the spirits demanded, never asking 'why', for that was not their way.Then, one day the spirits left, never to return. But The People continued as though they would, and tended the land as good stewards should.Then, many seasons ago, lights again appeared in the sky. The People went to the chosen place, and waited, but no spirits came. In time, though, other people came. These were not spirits, though they had some of the spirits' trappings. These were just people. They did not ask anything of The People except stories, which they were happy to share. On hearing the stories, the visitors said they would leave, but would return here once every hand of seasons. And if anyone wished to leave with them, they could.As these were not the spirits, it was rare that any would choose to leave, for a steward does not abandon their duty. Still, every once in a while one would choose to leave. Sometimes those who left would return. Sometimes they would not. Of those who returned, some returned quickly - even as soon as a single night - while others might not return until they were old.Once, one returned with word that they had seen the Ancestors lands, and even brought a handful of it back with them - with the blessings of The People there. But it was not their land any more, not in any way that they would recognise it. But their People were still upon it, and still told the oldest of stories and sang the oldest of songs. Songs that they still sang here.And so the stewards continued to do their works, and preserved the lands in case the spirits returned. And in the sky the visitors also watched and waited. For they knew that the ancient peoples who had brought The People to this world were as ashes. But even ashes can burn anew, and harm the unwary. <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SFF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SFF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#microfiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/IAmWriting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#IAmWriting</a>

Kit BashirThe tyranny of physics is that interstellar war just takes SO darn long. Your grandparents had a beef with our grandparents; it was something about the taxation of trade routes, but what EVER. Your first round of missiles are coming up on one percent of the way to us—and of course our reply to you set out not long after the light of your launch reached us. In around fifty centuries our collective folly will bear fruit. Your parents transmitted an apology along with the stand-down code, our distant descendants must transmit the code when the time comes. Your ancestors probably thought that having the volley of warheads transmit status updates weekly would drive us mad with terror; it did the opposite, there hasn’t been so much as a saber rattled in a generation. When the ultimate stupidity is its own constant reminder, lesser stupidities seem, well, stupid.<a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/PowerOnStoryToot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#PowerOnStoryToot</a>

rdmIt was simultaneously completely ordinary, and utterly extraordinary for Joyful Finder to be following a scheduled approach plan. 'Ordinary' in that this was what she had done scores of times before during her career with the Scout service. 'Extraordinary' in that she was doing this on her homeworld, which did not even have flying machines when she'd left sixteen years previously.As she approached the designated landing area, the cameras on the outside of her ship's hull showed a neat row of light aircraft. Mostly wood and fabric it seemed, but there was one made of metal. More remarkable was the tall gantry at the edge of the airfield, with a tall cone-topped cylinder next to it. The learning she was bringing home would make such devices obsolete - but would be so much harder to build. All the same, if the Elders kept up the pace she was seeing, it might not take that long. And then there was the problem of Charlie. Technically this was a quarantine world - no contact to be made. Of course the reality was somewhat different - her ancestor had settled here after being shot out of the sky by pirates. And there was an emergency supply station run by the Scouts. She was allowed to land because this was her home. Charlie would be technically breaking the treaty the Scouts had with the Elders. And interstellar law. But they had followed Joy here. Over six months journey from where she knew they had been deployed last. She was going to have to talk to them face-to-face. And tell them the big secret she'd been hiding the whole time she'd worked with the Scouts. That it was not training that led Dives Swiftly to obey her so well. It was the fact that the two of them could communicate mind-to-mind. And that she could do that with people, too. If Charlie could take that revelation, then there might be a way through this.<a href="https://aus.social/tags/SFF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SFF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/ScoutAndShaman" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#ScoutAndShaman</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/IAmWriting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#IAmWriting</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a>

asmwThe first time that a robot folded my fitted sheets, I was delighted. The first time I saw a robot guard at the airport, I was sceptical. The first time the news showed robot soldiers storming across muddy fields, I was terrified.What they were building was never artificial intelligence, it was always artificial obedience.<a href="https://infosec.exchange/tags/tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#tootfic</a> <a href="https://infosec.exchange/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#microfiction</a> <a href="https://infosec.exchange/tags/ai" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#ai</a>

Kit BashirAlan was one of thousands of cis men who worked as a catgirl during the war. The Official Secrets Act prevented the telling of this story until now, but with the passage of the Recognition Bill the truth can be revealed.The precognitive ability to detect a forming voidrift in time to defend against the Threadwyrm intrusion has always been strongly associated with gender non-conformity. Almost a million transgender women, men and enben were recruited to the Void Force in the first two years of the war; but this fact was considered a vital planetary security secret. To preserve secrecy, the disappearance of so many LBGT citizens was concealed by recruiting volunteers to impersonate them.In Alan’s words: “It was a blast. I kept working as an accountant but also spent six hours a week streaming on youtube wearing a pink wig and makeup. It’s been so hard not telling anyone. I’m going to dye my hair and get out my old thigh-socks. I hope I can get in touch with my old subscribers. Oh and it’s Alissa, she/her, now.”<a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/PowerOnStoryToot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#PowerOnStoryToot</a>

rdm<a href="https://zirk.us/@SFFMagazineCovers" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">@SFFMagazineCovers</a> Martin looked over his shoulder at the other craft behind him. They were easily several minutes behind. His theory had been correct. It was the power to mass ratio that mattered, not absolute power!The amputation meant that he could build a smaller ship with the same engines, and get improved manoeuvrability for the same budget!This time he was going to win!<a href="https://aus.social/tags/SFF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SFF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#microfiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/IAmWriting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#IAmWriting</a>

Albert ARIBAUD ✎<a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/writever" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#writever</a> To attemptTo be a Wizard is to attempt every day to keep Death away from oneself, even if it means turning it onto someone else.To be a Witch is to try every day to keep Death away from someone else, even if it means turning it onto oneself.<a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/MastoArt" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MastoArt</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/FlashFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#FlashFiction</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/SmallStory" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SmallStory</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/TootFic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#TootFic</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a>

Kit BashirThe modulated gravity waves recently detected by LIGO have been postulated to encode a message. Theories abound as to what the message may contain. What’s your prediction? <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/PowerOnStoryToot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#PowerOnStoryToot</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/BonusEdition" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#BonusEdition</a>

Kit BashirMALENY (AAP): Are dragons Solarpunk? As winter starts to bite in south-east Queensland, an annual debate is flaring up over whether dragon-heated “tiny homes” are “Green”, or even ethical. Dragonets (as lesser eastern fire monitors under the age of six are known) begin to flame around age two and need regular flaming practice to develop their heat and precision. Keeping a dragonet to eat kitchen scraps, start fires and even heat homes has been practiced for centuries, and there is some evidence that First Nations people have done this for millennia. But to modern sensibilities the questions arise: is dragon heating carbon neutral? Researchers at the University of the Sunshine Coast have been tackling the question of just what powers Dragonfire. Dragonets, while well known to enjoy treats, don’t appear to eat anywhere near enough organic matter to power their flame, and while they have been observed scratching for coal, this too appears insufficient to satisfy their energy budget. Investigations have turned to cosmic rays and solar neutrinos—<a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/PowerOnStoryToot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#PowerOnStoryToot</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Solarpunk" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Solarpunk</a>

rdmMary stared at the tall, thin, studded robot as it approached her. The robot paused as its target started laughing. And pointing. Now she was getting something out! A weapon? It raised a tentacle. No, just some sort of recording device and transmitter. Wait! The target was sending a picture of it? With small fruit next to it? The robot watched the airwaves as hundreds of people responded, not with fear or terror, but laughter. And what was that? If it had had the ability it would of blushed. As it was, its cooling system overloaded, and vented, causing the device to shut down and collapse.Mary laughed even harder as the cooling fluid vented. Through the top of the robot. <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SFF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SFF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#microfiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/IAmWriting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#IAmWriting</a>

Albert ARIBAUD ✎<a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/writever" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#writever</a> Collective imagination"The material reality of a thing is directly proportional to how strongly it is implanted in the collective imagination. Take the case of capitalism from the end of the second millennium to the beginning of..."<a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/MastoArt" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MastoArt</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/FlashFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#FlashFiction</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/SmallStory" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SmallStory</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/TootFic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#TootFic</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a>

Kit Bashir“Bridge, Engineering: Engines back online. You are clear to engage impulse power up to fifty percent.”“Engineering, Bridge: Understood. Engaging engines. How long until you restore full power.”“Bridge, Engineering: Thirty minutes. Removing furball from secondary fuel intermix.”“CPO, Bridge: DAMMIT I told you not to let the ships cat sun itself under the Cherenkov beams from the warp core anymore”“Bridge, CPO: Sorry, Captain, I–““–Bridge, Engineering: No it’s all right we’ve removed an inspection panel and put a cat bed in the glow to give her somewhere better to sleep. Won’t happen again. Whosagorgeouskittyyesyouare.”<a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/PowerOnStoryToot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#PowerOnStoryToot</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Caturday" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Caturday</a>

rdmThe box waited in the corner. It was just a simple machine, so granting it any form of needs or wants was nothing more than anthropomorphism. Still, it had been constructed with purpose, and the room it was in had more than enough sentience to make up for the box's lack. So I suppose it would be more accurate to say that the room with the box in the corner waited. And, just as it felt the need, manifested a door and some high windows. Enough to give a sense of time, but too little to make out any detail. A small child stepped in and closed the door, panting. Footsteps outside came closer, and then faded. The child backed up, and bumped the box, which acted according to its builder's wishes, and produced a story.And so the child spent several hours reading the tales the box produced, and then left, leaving the room empty again.No longer needed, the door and windows vanished, and the room waited again.<a href="https://aus.social/tags/SF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SFF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SFF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#microfiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/IAmWriting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#IAmWriting</a>

rdmThe Library of Infinite Books was not named for the size of the collection. In truth, it held but a few thousand volumes, although the librarians made sure that there was a steady cycling of new books. No, the Library got its name from an unusual property. Should someone take a book from the shelves out through the front entrance, which was the only one available to anyone who was not a librarian of the Library, a copy reappeared on the shelf, as if it had never moved. Even annotations and dog-ears would be preserved.As such, the Library did not have a lending policy as such, just a polite request not to return anything removed.<a href="https://aus.social/tags/SF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/SFF" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SFF</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#microfiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/IAmWriting" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#IAmWriting</a>

Bern<a href="https://aus.social/@Unixbigot" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">@Unixbigot</a> <Hitchhiker's Guide Narrator> "It was discovered in a laboratory at the University of Ophiuchi Delta Four that 'toast' was not simply created by mildly burning bits sliced off fermented and baked mixtures of ground carbohydrates and yeast, but was in fact a fundamental rearrangement of the quantum-mechanical state of the universe. Some researchers tried to use this to manipulate the very fabric of reality, but their efforts were all without success, until one graduate student, feeling a bit peckish, decided to eat some of the latest failed experiment for breakfast. Butter, it turns out, is a quantum catalyst, due to an as yet unexplained interaction between the uncertainty principle, the exclusion principle, and cow flatulence."<a href="https://aus.social/tags/tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#tootfic</a>

Albert ARIBAUD ✎<a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/writever" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#writever</a> ConsequenceFor me, your insults are a cause, and my bad mood a consequence.For you, the cause is my mood, and the consequence is your irritation which has driven you to this flood of insults.But after all, you're not a precog.<a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/MastoArt" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MastoArt</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/FlashFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#FlashFiction</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/SmallStory" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#SmallStory</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/TootFic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#TootFic</a> <a href="https://mastodon.art/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a>

Kit BashirThe blacksmith put her hammer down. The apprentice had been dealing with a walk-in but wanted a word. “She wants us to do, what, boy?”“Transplant an enchantment from a sword to a spade.” “Why on Krull would someone want an enchanted spade?”“Adventurer wants to retire to grow roses. Sword wants to retire, too.”“Tell her okay. Goddess, we get all the weird jobs on Grunedays.”“I think they’re sweet, boss”<a href="https://aus.social/tags/Tootfic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#Tootfic</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/MicroFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#MicroFiction</a> <a href="https://aus.social/tags/PowerOnStoryToot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#PowerOnStoryToot</a>

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