In The Stir Of A Hand

Robots Contest Entry

“Squeal! Crunch!”

“What’s that sound?” questioned Susan.

Tom ran into the kitchen to check. AngelCakes attempted to blend soup with the batter, including the tin can.

“Darn, instructions weren’t clear,” Tom fretted, making necessary adjustments.

With a replacement of ingredients, the smell of spicy tomato soup cake soon filled their house.

“Hmmm...crunchy!” Susan commented, spitting out bits of cake.

“Yuck!” Tom balked, taking a bite. “Should’ve written: Put egg into mixing bowl. Throw out shell.”

He made another note in the recipe.

“I’ll have our baking robot ready in time to make you a birthday cake, hon.”

Susan grimaced.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.

Who Cared?

Robots Contest Entry:

He tinkered for a year, ignoring his phone and only leaving the house for Wacko Wake or the hardware store. The rest was delivered.

The garage was littered with tools and metal shards. The WiFi flicked on for two hours each night so he could comb websites.

His friends had given up on him. Who cared? He was done. Done with living like an open wound, a scrap of plastic blown in someone else’s breeze.

Finally, it was time. He flipped the switch and felt an electric jolt. The eyes lit up. The battery hummed.

Then it spoke. “Yes, master?”

From Guest Contributor Faye Rapoport DesPres

Just Looking

Robots Contest Entry:

Carl pulled over beside a car in the parking lot and said, “Wow. Look at that Maserati.”

Duke replied, “I thought that you were a one car guy. Aren’t you crazy about Josie?”

“Sure, but a car can look, can’t he? You’re in love with Sheila, but you stare at good looking women.”

“That’s fair, but I didn’t know that it worked with cars as well as people.”

“Think about it Duke, humans gave AI to cars, shouldn’t we act like you?”

“Guess you are right. I’ll pick up the groceries, and we can get back to our better halves.”

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Upgrade

Robots Contest Entry:

She was made with adaptive core, an augmented query engine. She has three different types of access ports, and automatic driver load with universal handshake. When technology advances, she advances. One of her selling points is that she can retool herself and will always be the latest model. The salesman had said in her ability to adapt, she was almost human. Almost human. That seemed to settle the deal. Almost human. Wait until the human that owns her now gets home and sees the simple little nothing she has managed to slip into, understands she has accessed his video library.

From Guest Contributor Ken Poyner

Robots Contest Closed

Hey everyone!

We’ve reached the end of the submission period for the latest contest. I’ve start posting the stories, and I'll be saving the winner for last, as always. A lot of good stories once again, and I’m excited to share them with you all.

We’re still accepting normal story submissions, so please continue sharing your 100-word gems. And if any contest submissions come in now that the deadline is closed, I’ll post them with the other submissions, but they won’t be eligible for sweet, sweet victory.

Thanks for all your contributions!

If anyone has any recommendations for the next contest theme, put them in the comments below.

That is all.

Choices

Robots Contest Entry:

The salesman gently touched the ‘sale completed’ icon.

“Lovely. I have your choices.

Color, size, and finance.

As you know, the ‘AI Whoosh’ will be delivered preloaded with all your personal preferences.

Music, regular routes, and recharging stations.

That just leaves us with your safety level preferences.

Six questions for you to answer, A or B.

Ready?

Your car sensors detect that a child is about to step in front of you.

How do you want your Whoosh to react:

A. Ensuring your own safety; continuing in a straight line?

B. Putting your safety at risk; swerving across the road?”

From Guest Contributor John Holmes

John, based in the North East of England, is a writer of short fiction. Winner of the The Times Short Crime Fiction Story prize. In the last 12 months has appeared in Paragraph Planet, 101 Words, Fragmented Voices, Pen to Print, Glittery Literature, Globe Soup, Drabble, Bag of Bones and Ellipsis Zine. When he’s not writing, he’s out cycling - soaking up new stories.

A Moment In The Sun

He couldn't believe how amazing it felt to be free of the anguish and suffering he'd endured for so long. He fled this hellhole!

On an outcropping he sat, legs dangling over, watching the tiny ripples in the lake below. Looking towards the rising sun, it seemed to have sped up as it moved across the sky, a shadow of some type, nearly black, just behind it.

He watched as they raced above him, sun in the lead with shadow in tow, heading to the far side of the world. Now motionless, the darkness grew until the sun vanished entirely.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Oliver's Army

Oliver was the first to notice.

He was enjoying a day off, determined to spend it in his garden, partly to work in it, partly to relax in a folding chair.

Leaning on a rake he called out to his wife:

“Would you look at that? I have never seen this many together on a single bush.”

She was just as surprised as he was.

"Remember? Last spring we didn’t mow the lawn for a month. Could this have something to do with it?”

Thousands, even millions of butterflies gave a clear forewarning: the new rulers were on the rise. From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

I Overhear My Grandmother In A Dream

I knew about the tarpaper roof torn in the shape of the mountains she had just left, the shape of her youth spent in birthing a dozen children. I did not know she sang only to the sons, who arrived looking like wrinkled old men. When I asked her why she wouldn’t sing to her daughters, I already knew the answer: the girls would just leave her for strangers.

I saved my voice for prayer. The light flinched under the lie, but it was only my shadow. That light came from some distance, she said. You really shouldn’t impede it.

From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell

Cheryl is a classically trained pianist who writes by ear. Author of several collections of poetry, she has also written a series of novels called Bombay Trilogy; and been published in hundreds of literary journals and anthologies, including a Best of the Net. Look her up on Facebook.

Like In Versailles

"Poplars lining the road, like in Versailles. Not that I've been there. I just imagine that's how it would be."

"Are you sure they're Poplars? Maybe Birch."

"Birch in Versailles?! I don't think so."

"I mean the ones outside. Maybe they're Birch."

"I'd prefer Poplars. Like in Versailles. Though I've never been there."

"If you've never been there, how do you know anything lines the road?"

'I imagine there would be something. It's Versailles, after all. Most likely Poplars."

"I guess you're right."

A silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the wind in the Aspen.

From Guest Contributor E. O'Neill