Numerical Perplexity

The opened book lured him with its golden glow.

He imagined himself as a student in the day. Calculations done by mind or slide rules. No electronics to verify answers. Would he have had a good friend to ask for help? Were teachers stricter?

If it was a book of literature he would have fully appreciated it. But math? None of it made sense to him. The only value of the book, he determined, was its artistic calligraphy.

“Excuse me,” someone interjected. “Are you soon finishing your observation?”

He relaunched into the present, moving onwards to the museum’s next exhibit.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Release The Hounds

The mob surrounded the exterior fence, wielding an array of weaponry, everything from baseball bats and hockey sticks to handguns and automatic weapons. Policy that made a lot of sense when the ire was directed at the liberal elites now seemed short-sighted.

"Thomas, let's see what they think of our dogs."

"Very good, sir."

He'd imported a dozen trained attack dogs from Israel. Not enough to fend off a hundred armed individuals, but he found it hard to believe these peasants were prepared to shoot an animal.

The barks dissipated faster than he expected.

"They came prepared, sir. With steaks."

Burt And Argos

The news sent everyone into a panic. Years of cable sensationalism had afflicted society with a horrible sense that by paying attention to world events, they could actually make an impact. With that illusion shattered, the reality would take time to settle over them. Time that was no longer available.

Burt had stopped watching the news years ago. He'd accepted his futility and was the happier for it. Better to spend that time with Argos, his rescue.

So while most people rioted, Burt and Argos sat on the beach watching the sunset together, waiting for the end of the world.

The Engineers Play Chess

Christos and Lieberman, veteran development engineers, played chess every lunch hour. Watson, a young engineer, joined the project, watched them play and immediately starting making unwanted comments. They put up with him for two weeks.

One day Christos briefly studied the board, then moved Knight to F4.

"That's a strange move," Watson commented.

Lieberman immediately moved rook to H6.

"That doesn't make sense. What did you do that for?" Watson demanded.

The two chess players said nothing, just stared at him.

"OK, I'm leaving," Watson finally said.

"Check," said Christos and reset his pieces.

"Mate," Lieberman added and did likewise.

From Guest Contributor Ronald Larsen

Ties That Bind

Sam always used rubber bands to hold up her ponytail; I'm still finding them around the apartment, lost during sex, or when she shook out her hair after a long day at work, or in any of a dozen different ways. The trust between us proved less elastic, and snapped.

Everything came undone when she found that bobby pin in the bathroom. I told her that Jodie had just needed to wash bird crap out of her hair when she dropped by, but clearly I wasn't believed. Now, in every sense, there's no way left to hold things in place.From Guest Contributor Alastair Millar

Alastair is an archaeologist by training, a translator by trade, and a nerd by nature. His work can be found at https://linktr.ee/alastairmillar and he lurks on Twitter @skriptorium.

Before The Words, There Were Echoes

There was silence in the universe. Words were nowhere to be found, as if all existence had stopped and all that was left was a void of utter disbelief and confusion. How can there be something, and yet it means nothing?

She had many words inside her, words that boiled into nothingness and brought about the vapor of insignificance. She remembered “in the beginning was the Word,” but instead of feeling any sense of security, she lost heart.

In that loss, she grasped the emptiness of whispers and asked the vast expanse:

“What is needed to be compassionate?”

“A soul.”

From Guest Contributor Aida Bode

The Dreaming Man

Calvin approached every situation with the same primary assumption: he was dreaming.

This outlook freed him from the tethers of reality. He lived with a complete disregard for consequence only the dreaming man could fully fathom. It lent his existence a sort of Buddhist clarity, in which only the current moment mattered. He possessed at all times a tremendous sense of self-possession and lucidity, while remaining entirely divorced from the trivial concerns of everyday society.

Now that he had been sentenced to forty-five years to life for first-degree murder, this mindset would be even more of a refuge moving forward.

Eye Of Beholder

Todd had always put others before himself, which had brought a sense of well-being and worth when he was young.

But the years and the takers had garnered their toll: the most recent family emergency leaving him stranded on an island of agoraphobia.

He’d just washed the dishes when the doorbell rang.

The wireless security camera bought online amid a bout of paranoia relayed the image of a stranger with a clipboard – practiced smile glued to his face.

Todd could just make out the logo of a phone company on the top sheet.

Another would-be taker.

Sunlight glinted off steak-knives.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Jack’s Undoing

HUBRIS CONTEST

Jack had it all: six luxurious homes, expensive cars, a private plane, and a trophy wife. Like many trust-fund babies, he had grown up with few responsibilities and many advantages, including a degree from Yale. Unfortunately, for Jack, he did not grow up with a sense of ethics or basic moral values.

The FBI stormed through the front door of his New York apartment at six in the morning.“We have a warrant for your arrest. The charge is transporting wealthy, inadmissible aliens into the USA.”

Jack rolled his eyes. Don’t these people realize my connections? He called his lawyer.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

What Happened To Ben?

“So, uh, what happened to Ben?”

“Twitter. Once he discovered that, well, he just sort of fell into a black hole.”

“Do you talk to him on Twitter?”

“Oh yeah. All the time.”

“That’s funny. I can’t get him to return my calls. I even went to his house one day and he didn’t answer the door.”

“Just tweet him. He’ll respond.”

“That seems weird. Does he make sense? Talk in complete sentences?”

“He’s hilarious. Same old Ben.”

“Only he’s not really there. He’s just a digital ghost.”

“When you put it that way it just sounds sad.”

“I know.”

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten