Microfiction!

 

The Greatest Cyn

Cyn arrived at dawn, beginning work with dishes and laundry. Upstairs, she found the baby motionless in her crib. “Mindy,” said Cyn, caressing a blue knee. 

Deceased. 

She alerted the authorities, cleaned, and changed the corpse’s diaper. Mindy’s mother sang flatly in the shower. Soon, Amanda would enter the room where her child slept peacefully not an hour before, find the infant’s remains, and unleash a thunderous requiem. Perfect key.

Cyn offered Amanda no comfort. She had changed a million diapers, after all, and would go on to change a million more, but empathy was absent from her programming.

End.

Moment of Truth

“Also, Reverend,” you recited at the dull aqua waiting room furniture. “If God were real, he’d be ashamed of you too.” 

An ICU doctor coughed. You spun around, faked a laugh. “This way.” In the room, she squeezed your shoulder. Terminal diagnosis. “Days, maybe.”

Tubes. Machines. Dyspnea. Sunday clouds replaced the tumultuous blue oceans his eyes once restrained. “Yemaya?”

You caught yourself taking his hand. “Just me.”

“Get my wife.”

“Funeral was years ago.” Your last time seeing him.

“I worry… “ Light rain departed Sunday clouds. “Will I see her in Heaven?”

You squeezed. “Mom’s waiting for you, Dad.”

End.

Sibs

My brother Michael swept up, then attended to the baby. At the changing table, her soiled diaper was trashed, like the old days, then they went downstairs so he could wash dishes. He had nearly earned a million experience points. 

Later, when Mom interrupted his game to change our analogue sister, he wasn’t as motivated. Still, he took Jenny to the Baepod and continued his game on the nearby smartwall while her befouled diaper was vaporized and a fresh one was printed on. 

Mike sighed. With luck, he’d get bonus points for doing laundry before Mom assigned another chore.

End.

Luz, Reformed

“That bitch sentenced me to change a literal million diapers,” Luz continued. She taped the shit-mitt closed and tickled her charge. Its volcanic eyes sparked, raising hairs on Luz’s arms. “Took years.”

Bill primed the incubator’s busted fission igniter. “Mind diapers now?”

“These? No. Earth gravity… No worker-babies or soldier-babies...”

“What’d you do, anyway?” 

Luz wiped away tentacle snot. “Shoplift,” she lied.

“Young or desperate?”

“Both.” It was true of her crime. “Vamanos. If they’re going to eat this monster tonight, we’ve got to get it in the incubator by four.”

“Yeah, yeah,” sighed Bill. 

Dinner was served criminally late.

End.