Aethereal Muses: “Why does Miffin stare at the kitchen wall?”

A weekly compilation of collected microfictions composed by yours truly. Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram for daily dabs of fiction. If your time is short, these are shorter!

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Featured image art generated by Jason H. Abbott using starryai.

“They said you were plain and tall!” he shouts over the runway noise. “I was expecting a human copilot, not a giant robot-woman!” She reconfigures, transforming into a jet with forward-swept wings. “No, I’m plane and tall,” Sarah says. “Get in! We’ve got to scramble!” “So, this assassin robot, are we talking something like the Terminator?” The agent almost guffaws, then holds up vial containing a fly-sized drone. “Whisper quiet. Painlessly injects self-replicating nanites that cause something inconspicuous, like an aneurysm.” “I’m glad to see you walking again, but you look like a centaur with a robotic horse half,” Jim said. Adam grinned crossing his arms. “That was the point!” “Why not human cyborg legs?” “You know that centauress that saved me?” “Don’t tell me—” “We’re dating!” A piano roll spun, and ‘Daisy Bell’ played as a bounty hunter of wood and clockwork entered the saloon. Sid the Kid leaned on the bar. “I hate that song!” The repurposed piano automaton spied him, raised revolvers, and switched to playing Chopin’s funeral march. “Mom!” “Yes?” “We need the hose!” “Why?” “We built a robot from the refrigerator cardboard!” “You’ll wreck it if you get it wet.” “That’s why we need it!” “What?” “I used magic! It’s chasing Tom!” “Oh! Come on little witch, my broom is also in the shed!” “Why does Miffin stare at the kitchen wall?” “Cats just do that sometimes,” her mom answers, leading the child to dinner. Four soulless eyes in a halo of tentacles glare at the mackerel tabby. A cat’s pounce sends it scurrying back through a dimensional crack. He hasn’t noticed he’s dead for six months. Unlike the others, I can see him working in his still vacant office. “Hey Boss, I brought you coffee,” I say putting a cup on a dusty desk. “Let’s take a break.” “There’s too much work.” “No, there isn’t.”

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