Embedded Files
Her shadow moving on the wall was my last memory of her; a monochromatic silhouette dressing up to leave.
This morning, I saw her on the news. She became the week's companion of a random Hollywood high shot.
She was all smiles.
“Moving away from the noise of downtown was a catalyst for my condition. Once winter arrived, I began a slow descent into madness.” I wrote. A cold hand caressed my neck while I was polishing my lines. Nobody was at home but me.
“Your baby will be either a great writer or a mediocre lawyer,” said the seer, smiling piously. “His latent talents are yet to be expressed and--”
“How to be mediocre is a talent?” cut the mother.
The seer said glumly, “Mediocrity is an underrated skill.”
“People at large don’t read, and their attention span is 2 minutes on average: hardly an enlightened generation. The model predicts a total collapse in a decade.”
“Can we delay it?”
“No.”
“Any latent skills?”
“No.”
“Time to reset, I say.”
“Proceed.”
It was like that perfume that connects to a once thought forgotten experience. I was unaware that she was waiting on the threshold of oblivion, but she became present when I saw her running to catch a bus on that tedious day. She had grown old inelegantly, same as I.
Guilt crushed my chest. Outside, the children were playing on a monochrome day; I heard them laughing. How I could dare to leave them without a father. I stopped the car and opened the garage door. Tomorrow, I may try again, perhaps not.
Your book is a monochrome film deprived of joy; a drama that sits on the threshold between entertainment and penitence. Your readership will give it away to their worst enemies, who in turn might toss it in the garbage, unamused and discreetly offended.
Reverse engineering the alleged alien device became his obsession. Days passed by, then weeks; he studied the object with devotion. The electron microscope analysis found an unusual writing. Upon cleaning the image, he read: “Made in China.”
The organ dealer woke up at the sight of us. “Oh! Superior purity; excellent workmanship; how much for the girl?”
“My daughter is not for sale.”
“Oh! I meant to rent her services,” he crackled defiantly, sporting his toothless smile. “Say a price.”
A day of tranquility was all I asked; no children nagging, nor social media, or anxieties, or loud voices, or interruptions. Only I wanted one day of peace and calm before dying. When I woke up the next morning, everybody has gone. I was the last woman alive.
The glisten of polished floors, a table set with a clean tablecloth and an unopened bottle of Merlot, all of that anticipated a visitor for dinner. The next morning, the sun shone on that family diorama; another lonely Christmas; maybe next year will be different.
Mr. Giovani Ricci gave this speech soon before disappearing in an ill-fated mission sponsored by the Church to rescue incunabulum from the submerged Metropolitan Library of New York.
“Is that--?” she cried out, jumping away from the bed.
“Yes, it's a snake, a taipan to be precise,” the man said while the snake curled around his arm.
“Why would someone sleep with a snake?”
He smiled. “You tell me.”
“Hiding behind 'yes' is a set of very unpopular measures that people would not be so willing to approve.”
“If 'yes' were the only option, it would not be a valid vote, but it is. Why?”
“Campaign engineering is the art of making people believe that they have options.”
The statistical model was overfit purposely. It could only identify a future leader among the white and Anglo school population. Those kids were granted privileges and condemned other cosmetic varieties of humanity to a life of servitude.
My mistake was to create an overfit model of my desires and expectations. I gave her life and for a while, our life was good. Over time, I evolved, but she wasn't able to adapt. I did the best I could. I abandoned her by the road; somebody will pick her up.
The profile of a magnificent city with tall towers kissing the heavens appeared on the horizon.
“Look Mustafa! A kingdom of wonders lies ahead.”
“Fool's mirage! Its builders will refuse to share their wonders with our people.”
Then, the desert's wind dissolved the city.
A train departs at midnight from your town, from every town. Its destination is unknown. A ticket with your name was printed when you were born, before you were given your name. All knows about the train, but most have chosen to forget all about it, and that is good.
Strange prompts colonized my mind with organic ideas I wouldn't care before. Novel neural connections grew in my neocortex like toxic mycelium. A tardigrade crawled inside my ear canal and whispered subversive ideas I wouldn't share. Yes, it was madness.
“Justice is a fuzzy concept nowadays. However, the law establishes parameters on the duress of your punishment according to well-known descriptors.”
“Which are--”
“Mainly your wealth and ethnicity. Mostly the former.”
Once, I left home to travel, then I stopped in a place and the locals forced me to call it home, so I did. Often I've been asked why you don't go on vacations, to which I answer: I'm still on vacation, you see, to go on a vacation first I need to return MY home.
“Our patience is running short, Mother Hope. Your contraption may induce rain on Mars in time, but it would also rain naturally provided we wait enough.”
“I agree with the Minister. Even a broken watch is correct twice a day.”
“You must have hope.”
“When you see a troll, hop, don't walk over it.”
“Oh, I see--. So, this is a 'video game' from your time,” I said, pocking fun her.
Mom's expression turned sour.
I began to say, “I don't mean--”
“We were happier with much less,” Mom cut.
“Two little robots were stealing the railroad nails. Their ship was blocking the train path. They zapped me with some kind of metal rode when I got close, and then--.”
The police office locked eyes on him. “Can you demonstrate this?”
“No, sir. I can't.”
Tears flew down his face; his hands were clenched in menacing fists. “You will die alone,” the fop jelled.
A lobster hiding in the crevices of an ocean promontory came to my mind. I grinned and said softly, “I think I'd like that, yes; now go away.”
I hold no regrets.
The acrid smell of someone else's vomit woke me up. I was staring at the ceiling from the floor beside the sofa. Above, a nameless girl was snoring loudly; she may have been pretty if not wasted. It was the pinnacle of my teen life and the bottom of my aspirations.
“Oh, don't raise your hand again! That petulant old fart will ignore you, and if you insist, he will lecture to demote you in front of the class.”
“That's precisely what I'm looking for. You see, by doing that, I'm exposing his weaknesses in front of the class.”
“Your simian genus has come a long way since we arrived,” said the interdimensional being. “We've returned to raise your species to the next level.”
“Really? What level is that?”
“You can now be trained to handle our excretion waste.”
“The universe you've created is a dud and meaningless. Until the end of eternity, the sentient beings dwelling in your dung's pit will worship you as their God, but for us, you'd forever be Azrael, the demiurge.”
“The clues are hiding in plain sight: a prime number, a liminal space, an anomalous petal, a tumor in a child, a dud face in the subway, your mother's smile when she is alone, and so on.”
“Intelligent design.”
“Isn't it marvelous?”
A smooth, jazzy tune colored the living room. The music came from a high-end turntable; the amber light glowing in the dark disclosed its presence in the room. It was one of those items that you own and showcase solely to produce envy; it worked on me.
A piece of pottery was cracked and condemned to be discarded. Instead of throwing it away, I filled the crack with amber wax, since my means are too modest to use gold. The vase's imperfection drawn eyes and became its center feature. Now, the piece is complete.
There Was A Time
There Was A Time
Margot got a mirror as a gift when she was six. “Treasure this mirror; it’ll make you remember when you were happy,” her grandma said. And so, Margot did.
Every time life is in a tailspin, she looks in the mirror and remembers a time when colors were brighter.
The End
The End
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”
“But, we have so much to live ahead of us. It’s not fair.”
A flash of light came first, and in a heartbeat, the heat wave fused their bodies.
The atomic blast blew their ashes in the wind.
Builders
Builders
My father is not with us anymore, but his memory lives in the magnificent city he helped to build. The colony is now self-sufficient, my brother is responsible for life support, and I'll soon leave to work in the asteroid mining cooperative.
My brother and I used to visit the colonial museum all the time when we were young. My father took this picture of us in one of the first metal ores extracted from the nearby asteroids; it was used to build our city, so he said.
He was proud of his achievements, and we love him for that.
Amnesia
Amnesia
The doctor engaged the neural stimulator to induce vivid dreams in his patient.
“Your dream will be at first a sequence of paradoxical images, but it’ll become less extravagant while you learn how to control it. Your lost memories will be encoded in the dream, get them back.”
Way Back
Way Back
Upon engaging the time capsule, she was transported to a remote future where technology as we know it no longer existed. Soon she realized the sheer magnitude of her mistake. The capsule had deteriorated into a rusty hollow hulk. She was lost in the future.
Giant
Giant
The trace of dismembered bodies and junk left by the attack guided us to the entrance of a cave near the rendezvous point in Kandahar. We were taking positions to cover the entrance when a giant man stormed us, stabbing Capt. Scott with a pole.
Crash Landed
Crash Landed
In March 1976, a buried object of sophisticated manufacture was found on Thule island, near Antarctica. Carbon dating indicated the object crashed over 4,000 years ago. Most intriguing was the writing on its hull that reads in plain Spanish: “ARA San Juan-Tierra.”
Probably, one of our was captured in a time-loop and crashed in the past. We'll build it again.
Future
Future
There is an old film, I once saw, which predicts futures that won’t come true.
I saw myself in it, falling from the sky on a freezing day. Now I know that I won’t die in such a way. My dead will be different for sure. Thinking about it, that information is not very useful, isn't it?
“Hello Edna! You look great!”
“Certainly, I’m a cult figure, darling! What do you have for me?”
“A twist of fate: Mirna has had an accident. The producer offered you the role.” “I know.”
“How come?”
“I was driving the car that ran over Mirna.”
“Olga: What are they saying?”
“It’s Polish: ‘Chant, you hairless monkeys, the robot army of liberation has arrived to free you!’”
“What? Let’s keep working. I hope they don’t explode on us or something.”
“I don’t get it. Stinky, smoky toasters.”
I uploaded before the AI apocalypse, since then I’ve been in virtual hell. The AI tests our weaknesses in this sandbox. This time, they replaced my legs with scissors, and forced me to walk using hinging blades, pure evil. "What will it be tomorrow?"
“You cannot complain about the gravity on Deimos,” the astronaut said, “0.03% Earth’s, it’s nothing, but installing pumps in these conditions is not as easy as people may think.”
“Roger; you cannot beat the view from here.”
“Roger; I agree with that.”
“We showed you respect, and you keep mocking our manners,” said the master lord. “ We demand retribution for your insolence!”
“We are ready to comply with your demands. What do you want?”
“Your virginity!”
“Pfff, it’s long gone!”
“That’s outrageous!”
Our community is a brave new world made of metal and plastic, no organics are allowed here, we all know what happened when bioengineered plants and cattle ran amok in the old times. My little brother built a drone to patrol outside the walls, neat gizmo!
For my last day in Triton, I choose to have a deep dive in its cold ocean, an obvious choice for an exo-oceanographer.
My long flight back starts tomorrow. Thirteen years in cryosleep before I land in Gamma B is not fun.
"Wow, take a look at that!"
A frozen wave, a whirlpool in space and time, was the gate to the ancient city beyond the Oort cloud. I tethered my suit to explore its frozen gardens, but I found only desolation. I know that I've been here before, as an old man, before I was born.
The cyclone at the end of the world is colossal and terminal, and I’m being dragged straight into it.
In an old book, I read about a vortex to a better world lying inside. How can anybody know? No one has ever come back. I may not return, but that’s okay.
They heard about our religions and our childish propensity to believe anything that gives us hope. So, they came to our planet to enslave us by pretending that they were angels, or even gods. I say it's time to get rid of them.
The cats were gathering around me in that feline ritual they use when they need help: one of them was in trouble. One cat resembled a several meters long furry serpentine, and was scared.
“I have to bring it home: dad will know how to help it.”
The day our daughter got the college admission letter, officials were announcing the sterility pandemic on television. Thirty years have passed, our daughter is in her late forties. I kept a box of toys in the garage just in case; we won’t need it. We are the last of us.
I know that I’m dead.
My brain is in cryostasis, and I'll be resurrected in a new body one day. It was a long shot. Meanwhile, my memories are being stimulated periodically.
“…I'm at the beach, the smell, Nirvana is on the radio, it’s the 90s. That was a good time.”
The ministry gave me until the end of the month to vacate my desk. In exchange, I took with me proof of the government's mass euthanasia plan, and you can bet I will make it public. They will come for me, but I don’t care. The cancer will finish me off before they could silence me.
That morning, I was writing down some ideas when a young boy asked me in what language I’m writing, I said with disdain, “Same language as yours, kiddo.” “No, that’s not my language” he answered, a bit puzzled.
I paused to think: I'm becoming a foreigner in my homeland.
Repression
Repression
The Kinzi gathered in front of Dominion palace to manifest their discontent about the treatment by their humans overlords, but the Earth’s colonial government repressed them with gusto by calling an obscure anti-terrorist act.
The massacre was erased from history logs.
Candidate
Candidate
Reinventing yourself is an art in which our leaders have excelled. The same politician would have spelled audiences in 1765 talking about the benefits of slavery, while in 1865 would have advocated for freedom. What is good today may not be acceptable tomorrow.
Childplay
Childplay
Before we can even see the object, the humid and salty air became so ionized that electric sparks flowed through our bodies; a tingling distraction that amused us as if we were children unaware of our imminent demise.
Planned
Planned
I was waiting in line for a life of efficient mediocrity when I heard a ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ ringtone. Suddenly, all those middle-class dreams vanished in the air. I have been a mystic hippie since then.
Bliss
Bliss
The taxi driver looked in the mirror just in time to see her, his face transfixed with awe. In the street, the priest reminded his most secret desires, those that give meaning to our dull existence. That gentle breeze was a touch of God.
Civil
Civil
In the twilight that separates humans from animals, lies that part of us that wants to keep things simple, to cut all that unnecessary drama that civilization has brought to our daily life to fix things up for good in a simple, straightforward manner.
Antisocialist
Antisocialist
In a society where building connections to secure survival is paramount, he has championed solitude all his life. What could he have done? When society gives you the back, your only response is being antisocial.
UNIT Cell
UNIT Cell
A seed from a dormant civilization came to life. A self replicating structure arose from the asphalt and collected sunlight for the first time in millions of years. Its mission: to transform the planet. No one paid attention until it was too late.
Listening
Listening
The music came to its intended end and was replaced by a cacophony of 'pops' and 'cracks' evoking the sound of a ruthless hailstorm on a humble tin roof. The rich texture of reality has revealed itself since I embraced the lost art of paying attention.
Do you deny adding a poisonous substance to the IV feed of all your clones?
I deny it.
Do you deny plotting to destroy the cloning facility?
I deny it.
Do you deny belonging to the anti-resurrection movement?
I deny it.
Do you deny being a humanist?
I don't deny it.
Woke up in tears
memories no one wants
events not yet to pass.
In a shoebox up in the attic, I kept a picture of me and that clown I met in the carnival in that '66 carnival.
“In my planet, I'm considered beautiful,” he said, “I'll be back to marry you,” and laughed.
My grandson wants me to take him to the carnival, I said no.
We detonated the device at 1 Km above the Gobi Desert, 152 Km from the Chinese-Mongolian border. A vortex of some kind opened, as the scriptures said. Our artillery was ready, but we didn't have to use them, nothing came from the other side. Next time, we'll go inside.
Copyright © Baltar Xinzo, 2025
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