Rough Drift

"Small" writing challenges for my small writing talent. Hotel note pads are the only space allowed. Let's see if I can strip it down and tighten it up to learn something. Improving my skill of weird fiction.

74.) Silly Space


“We can’t trust those people to get on board with the program, I mean, they’re so far behind! They’re only just now exploiting gravity wells,” said Zebullah, with some serious eye rolling.

“Zeb, I wish you wouldn’t deride a whole civilization just because they’re not as advanced as we are. It sounds like you’re laughing at deaf people just because they’re deaf.”

“Such a person hasn’t existed for centuries, Exmolter. That’s my point,” Zebullah said as he poured more hot brewed breakfast blend Zorplatxeb into his co-workers liquid materials container.

“Zeb, please lay off them. Our executive elite already approved their participation on this project. They can offer more than what you think,” Exmolter sipped the hot blend with his lower of his two mouths, the polite method.

“Oh? Such as? Cooking in open environments with carbon blocks? C’mon, give me a fracture,” another eye roll.

“No, Zeb, they’re some of the most happily content people I’ve ever met. Even if they only talk with one mouth and in the most annoying monotone. That patience? We could learn some lessons,” another sip.

“Shut your mouths,” laughed Zebullah in stereophonic scales, “That’s why they’re so backwards. Lazy, even. Too lazy to get off their aft quarters and advance with the rest of the great societies,”

“Okay, so you don’t like them for their progress or way of life. Ever met any of them in person?”

“Well, no. They’re all the same though, just look at the media screens,”

“Ever wonder what they think of us?”

Zebullah set down his half-empty fluid collector and pursed his four lips, “Exmolter, friend, you shouldn’t speak that way. Someone else, man, woman, shuwman or super-binary would turn you In for those out loud concepts.”

“Calm down, Ex. If they didn’t have something to bring to the project, I doubt our Chief Elite, and his Executive Overlord, would have approved their participation. Besides, I think their focus on relaxation would help greatly,”

“Well, we’ll find out but I guess you’re right,”

Exmolter, finding agreement, set down his fluid containment device, “Good. So let’s call them up and get to work on our designated project; making the galaxy’s most fabulous and advanced toilet that would be the envy of any society,” In their enthusiasm, they high sixed each other continuously for the next hour, a company requirement before starting joint-ventures.

(Author’s notes) Nov. 19th, 2016: above Utah at 26,000 feet, 500mph westbound, 7:45 am. less that 500 words on the back of a boarding pass.

I’ve been pounding through NaNoWriMo on my western/action/historical/fantasy story and had to take a break. So what’s the opposite of a western? The future of space civilization. I also needed some silly stuff today. Don’t we all? I mean, not everything is a high-drama of Star Warstrek equivalent. What about the minor jobs that must be done? Here you go. I got a good laugh out of it.


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