FlashFeeD 1.28


Sorry I’m a bit late. Auto-schedule didn’t work.

Never trust a machine.

Many thanks to the mighty fine folks that contributed last week.

Given participation numbers it’s likely this will be the final week (boo).

It’s been an amazing ride. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t seem like enough for the stories and participation.

If we stop this week, then I’ll make sure that we keep a screen-shot of the leader board and post it somewhere prominent.

So, on to the challenge…

Write a Science Fiction story based on the prompt/s, below.

Pick either prompt. Pick both, if you like.


Prompt 1: A robot? AI? The future Arsenal manager? The choice is yours.


Prompt 2: A future city? An existing city with future elements? A spectator as far away from the pitch as the London Stadium?


Full rules here:

Stories will be limited to 2000 characters* (about 300 words), including the title.

*(The field itself will allow for 2050 characters, but this extra 50 characters is only to be used as contingency and it won't be increased).

Use the comment field to post stories, include your story title. Use the reply button on a particular story to provide positive feedback. Press the ‘like’ icon if you like a story.



8 Replies to “FlashFeeD 1.28”

  1. Taylor admired her reflection. The holographic contacts were the perfect touch. After all, she just needed verisimilitude. Androids are so human-like now, she couldn’t look too much like an android or she’d be noticed. But she knew Shay had iris-scan security these androidian lenses would be able to fake out. Then she could find and free her sister.

    She cast aside her t-shirt and underwear and pulled on the dark simul-leather jump suit. It clung to her skin like hot wax, molding to her body, creating a zero-fat effect, and adding a few cups to her chest. Where she was going, things like that mattered.

    Ten minutes later, Taylor stood next to the iron door leading to Shay’s hovel. She took a moment to compose herself, then turned and looked directly at the security screen. A green light scanned her body. The door unlocked. She walked inside.

    She took the red-lit corridor slowly, listening to the animal noises coming from behind closed doors. It was hard to tell if the girls were android or human. They sound the same when they’re all faking. She hated relying on intuition, but she was sure Toni wasn’t one of them.

    Then she heard shouts. Shay’s voice. It came from a room at the end of the corridor. Taylor quickened her pace and burst into the room in time to see Shay slap Toni to the ground.

    “Who the hell are you?” said Shay.

    “Your worst nightmare.”

    Shay smirked. “They all say that.” He went for the laser knife in his belt. Taylor pulled a controller from her body suit. Just as Shay’s hand found the handle, Taylor clicked a button.

    Toni’s eyes flipped from green to neon. She got up, reached out to Shay, and crushed his windpipe with one hand.

    “Taylor!” she said, her voice slightly digitized. “You came for me.” She ran to Taylor, leaving Shay slumped on the ground.

    “Of course, sis,” Taylor said, holding her tightly.

    “He thought I was human.”

    “Well you are… mostly. They stopped making hybrids just after Mom bought you. Now let’s go home.”


  2. The Message

    Tara could feel the rough material scratching as the fabric band tightened across her forehead. The scratch as the Velcro fastening was secured in place.

    “Relax, honey,” the attendant said cheerfully. “It’s not going to hurt.”

    “Want to bet?” Tara said sharply.

    “It’s not the purpose of things,” the attendant frowned.

    “What is?” the girl asked. “Can you tell me?”

    “It’s not my job,” the man returned.

    “I’ll just bet it’s not.” The man’s head turned towards her. “Never mind. I’m guessing you don’t really appreciate sarcasm so much any more.”

    The screen in front of the girl remained blessedly dim when she chanced a glance. It was but a matter of time. Literally. The clock in the corner counted down the final precious seconds. Ten to one.

    “Welcome,” a voice intoned.

    “Not feeling it. Aside from the being strapped down and forced to observe,” Tara said. “Just an observation, for what it’s worth. Which is nothing, in all likelihood.”

    “To our message.”

    “Which is?” the girl questioned. “Some of us think you’re stringing this out a little.”

    Suddenly the screen was lit from within with neon shapes, dancing upon themselves, ever changing, entrancing. The shapes caught the planes of the room’s walls, casting patterns upon them. Tara couldn’t help but catch a glimpse from the corner of her eye. A different form of helix, perhaps. Before she knew it, her head had turned.

    “Tara?” a voice called. Her eyes opened.

    “it’s time, honey. Time to go now.”

    Her eyelids fluttered. “Mum?” she croaked.

    Her mum nodded. “It’s done now.”

    “It is?” the girl asked.

    Her mum nodded again. “The message is yours. Whatever it is. And was.”

    “But…” Tara began, before pausing. “What was it then? That was so important I had to come here?”


  3. The Message (Part Two)

    “That’s for you to know,” her mum responded. “Or not know. Until you need to. It transmits itself in different ways.”

    “From who?” Tara spluttered.

    Her mother shrugged.

    “Don’t you find that strange? That someone’s inserted something foreign into your head?”

    Her mother’s eyes widened. “That’s subversion. Besides, you looked. You’re part of this now. The message will out, one way or another. Better collaborative than not.”



    1. Admittedly, I cheated the word limit a little here – but I’d written the story and wanted to add it in full, given it was only slightly over the character limit, as opposed to cut it. Hopefully the Flash Gods will forgive me the indulgence this once. 😉


  4. She closes her eyes for a heartbeat, and the bundles of information, the data that is him, is there. She slides away deftly, sure of her abilities. Having him discover her right now would be a disaster.

    And yet… She’s curious. People know she’s the Cat for all the wrong reasons.

    She sends probes. Autonomous and anonymized, just in case his defenses are capable of intercepting them. Just two, she judges. A first one would seem normal this days; after all, her own systems deflected several a day, with extreme prejudice. The second one would be her backup.

    She needn’t have worried. The first probe brings results, so she cancels the second one and it dissolves. He suspects nothing. His real body is in the balcony, watching the city blanketed by the sunset.


    Time to call the others. They had speculated, but nobody was really sure about what was going to happen. She preferred it that way: in her line of work, she trusted no-one but herself. Companions were a liability. She had planned everything so the rest wouldn’t be necessary until the very last moment.

    She starts getting answers immediately. One was missing. Pity. She adjusts for that, and sends instructions to them all.

    They start moving.

    She checks him again, from a distance. At the edges of the grid, her conscience drifts towards him, faint as a ghost. The sun drops behind the horizon, the city lights already on below him.

    She clicks her tongue. All the precautions she had taken appeared to be non-necessary. He is unaware, defenses down.

    What a pity.

    An alarm goes off.

    They arrive right on time, all within a few seconds of each other. They catch him by surprise.

    “Happy birthday!”


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