But A Memory

But A Memory

By Mike Pollock

(SFFWorld.com November 2017 Flash Fiction Entry)

Caleen squinted against the driving snow and pressed on. Her boots sank deep into the snowy mountain side, and while her body screamed at her to turn around, she persisted. Gritting her teeth, she defied those very instincts and trudged father on. Slowly she gained ground on those ghosts of her past.

“Welcome to the Hillary Steps.” She heard Victors voice in her head. Instead of answering the Memory Bot, she simply nodded and continue her assent. Not one to be ignored, Victor’s mechanical voice whirred once more.

“You’d have surely died had these conditions been present during a summit, Cal.”

“You’re kidding me right?” She demanded. Around her the din from the storm dulled and the wind around her disappointed to a gentle breeze. Her outburst had caused Victor to lose control of the Memory just slightly.

“I’m sorry Cal, I was not programmed to understand human emotion.” His apology was sincere, yet the image around her burst apart like smoke.

“You’re a real buzz kill Vic.” Cal said. She felt the urge to vomit as her mind struggled to reconcile with the shift from the Memory Victor had inserted in her mind with the fact that she was nearing her deathbed.

“So you’ve mentioned, only about a thousand times. As a Memory Bot, my only function is to keep you entertained in the last stages of life. Not to keep this Buzz you’re so fond of mentioning alive. And to be completely honest with you, it feels like cheating letting you relive other’s memories.”

She chuckled at that.

“Victor, the only memories I have of this damned space station.” She pointed a wrinkled hand at the slate gray walls of the small room she rested in. “This is the only view I’ve had for 93 years. I spent more years than some had at all looking out the five by five bay window hoping to catch a glimpse of the earth when the rotation was right.”

Victor’s small spherical body bobbed in the air beside her bed. “Very well.” He remarked, spinning again while lights danced across his metallic surface. Again the room faded and she found herself standing near the summit of Everest.

The storm had passed and she stood looking out from atop the monolithic peaks of the Himalayas. Their peaks bathed in sunlight cast long shadows down into the valleys far below her.

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered.

“Indeed, it was. Or so I was told.” He stepped beside her, taking the form of a man from one of his Memories. “It’s gone now, these peaks are rubble. The earliest memories I can access are those from the retreating ships. The mantle itself began to crumble. Many of these same rocks lay beneath the still boiling oceans.”

“Jesus, Vic. Buzzkill!”

“Buzz kill.” She muttered.

“Was there ever any doubt?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Where to next?” He asked, sensing the fleeting nature of her wonder.

She turned quickly towards him, sporting a wild smile. “Give me wings.” She said, stepping closer. “I want to fly.”

“That’s impossible, I’m not programming with memories of flying humans.” He replied, internally he scoured a million hours of Memories, finding nothing he could use.

“Well, I don’t need actual wings to fly. I read there were suits with webbed wings just under the arms. Give me one of those.”

“That I can do.” He answered, and she heard the almost musical whirring as he shifted the Memory. There was a slight rush of air and she looked down to find a lime and yellow jumpsuit. Under her arms hung fabric she assumed was for flying.

“Thank god I can’t feel the cold in these Memories.” She chuckled.

“Actually, Cal, I meant to ask. Why did you insist on the parka if you could fee-“ but she had already rushed to the edge of a nearby cliff.

With a joyful shout she threw herself into the air. Throwing her arms out to the side she felt the tug as the Kevlar fabric fought against gravity. Soon she was travelling just shy of parallel to the ground.

“It’s fantastic!” She cried, tears filling her eyes as the beating in her chest increased.

“Miss.” Victor said, his voice sounding slightly alarmed.

Instead of answering, she gestured with her hand that he leave her alone.

“Please, Cal.” He said again, appearing beside her in the memory. “Your heart… you haven’t much time left.”

“Then let me enjoy what I do have!” She shouted at him. He retreated, still beside her in the memory as she flew low over the snowy landscape. Quickly they approached a cliff and she hurtled beyond it into the blue skies.

The beeping of machines brought his focus back to her room and he noticed her chest heaving rapidly. “Thank you.” She whispered, her hand falling limp as she reached out towards him. The quickening beep turned into a solid tone as she slipped away.

“Miss Cal?” He asked, knowing full well she was gone. Sensing the lack of organic life, the Space Station began to shut down the lights and other machines. He bobbed closer to his bed and regarded the woman he’d been paired with. They’d shared a lifetime of memories in only a few short months, yet did he ever really know her?

Something strange stirred in him, and he groped for the foreign feeling. What’s next? He thought. There was a clunk as the air filtration systems shut down and the ship stopped its gentle spinning. Gravity failed and objects floated into the air around him.

VM114 he thought to himself. That was what the Makers called me. He felt a current pull at him as the shutdown protocol neared the programming of the Memory bots.

“Victor.” He heard. The voice was Caleen’s. He’d have smiled if he could at the memory. It was one of his own this time, and he was reminded of who he was.

Quietly, Victor followed her into the night.

27

27

by Mike Pollock

Felt brimmed hats

Take you to the moon and back

It’s easy living, shades of grey and black

Salt lined wounds

Showcase on the evening news

Legends down, succumbed to modern blues

A quiet wail

Gusts of wind to fill the sails

Left behind a pallid holy grail

Seduction At Sea

Seduction At Sea

by Mike Pollock

(November 17' Micro-fiction Entry at SFFWorld.com) 

Beckett clung to what remained of the ship’s helm as men drowned around him. Insensibly he watched a man flail among coils of rigging before being pulled below the waves.

A sudden burst of passion burned away all thoughts of the cold, and from the darkness he saw her glide across the frothing water amid the bodies and flotsam.

“You need only take my hand.” She sung.

Thoughtless, he lunged for her, hands passing through the apparition. Laughter swirled around him and he fought desperately to reach her, but her song only grew louder as he succumbed to the sea. 

To Dream of Open Air

A Dream of Open Air

By Mike Pollock 

(October 2017 Micro-fiction entry at SFFworld.com)

The rocky outcropping felt foreign and he hastily leapt into the air. Feathered wings unfolded behind him and Icarus soared into the sky. 

The summer warmth quickly became a blaze of heat, and cries of elation twisted into horrible screams of doom.

***  

“Jumper got any I.D.?” Carl asked, hands full of entrails.

“Nope, another John Doe.” Dorian was scribbling in his Collections notebook. Thirteenth jumper this month, and it was only getting worse. 

“I bet he was on Dream.  Heard that shit will show you heaven.”

“Yea, maybe four and a half seconds worth. Then you’re just Department property.”  

A Betrothal (SFFWORLD.com October 17' Flash Entry)

By Mike Pollock

Carmine sat, straight backed and hands cross. She barely moved as the carriage she rode in rocked and bucked over poorly kept cobble. Emotion fought to ruin her stoic façade as they passed further from the brightly lit farmlands at the edge of her homelands and deeper into the Knotted Wood.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Her cousin Marisse exclaimed, hanging nearly halfway out her window as they jostled through country she’d never seen before. A wave of jealousy washed over Carmine but she banished it in an instant.

“Yes, it certainly is.” She replied, returning her attention back to the looming tree line that encroached ever closer as the travelled deeper into the forest.

A sudden jolt rocked through the carriage and a startled Marisse nearly jumped into Carmine’s lap. The sound of men shouting to control their mounts left a nervousness wiggling inside her gut.

“What was that?” The younger girl asked, concern mirrored on her face. Carmine swallowed and set her jaw and she silently closed the wooden shades over both windows.

“The hell if I know, but we must be quiet now.” She whispered, leaning forward to silent flip the thick iron lock.

“Good day sirs.”

The voice belonged to her Guard Captain Daughtry. He was addressing whoever had halted their progress.

“Long way for a Human caravan.” A voice filled with gravel replied. She’d never met a Phenn but she’d heard they sounded like a large man with pneumonia. Spot on, she thought.

“Hardly a caravan,” Daughtry replied, “but better armed, and with written permission to travel these roads signed by Gaad KinCom.”

“Who are they?” Marisse whispered, startling Carmine. She shushed her and returned her attention to the conversation on the road. With a shaking hand she lifted one wooden slat to grant her a view.

Mostly she saw the nervous twitching of a charger’s tail but beyond the beast she caught a glimse of a massive Phenn, one muscled arm stretched tight with blue-grey skin.

“Who’s in the box?” It said, motioning toward the window. Carmine hastily dropped the shade and settle back into her seat.

“The Lady Carmine Hosvale, Betrothed to King Gaad.” She cringed at the saying of her name.

“Ah, the fucking Princess.” It replied, voice dripping with humor. “Yah hear that boys? That’s the Princess in the box. Gift to our dear King Gaad.” A murmur like the rumbling of a rock slide confirmed her suspicions; there were far more Phenn than Human.

She swallowed hard.

There was a muffled shout and the sound of steel ringing as swords were collectively pulled from their scabbards. “To the crown!” She heard Daughtry cry and her men crowded in around the carriage.

The sounds of fighting swarmed and Carmine cringed at each loud meeting of steel against steel. Marisse’s quiet sobbing cut through the sound of dying men crying out for help. As suddenly as the fighting began, it ceased. A crushing silence replaced it.

“Princess.” A gravelly voice called out.

The handle inside the door jiggled then, but the lock held tight. Carmine’s mind raced but there was nowhere to hide.

“Haruk.” The man called out, and the sound of heavy footfalls moved towards them. There was a loud cracking as something pulled at the door before it ripped free with a crash. Standing beyond was a monster of a Phenn, arms stretched overhead as it heaved the door toward a pile of human bodies.

“An unexpected surprise!” A smaller Phenn stepped up to the door. His odor washed over them as hands grabbed and violently pulled them from their seats. Both women cried out as they were deposited in the road.

“Two pretties!” The big one said leaning toward the girls. A heavy slap to his head stopped him cold.

“Back to the line Haruk.” The smaller one commanded.

“Yes, yes Captain Lenkk” He bowed before ambling back to where a dozen or so of the creatures stood, all holding wicked looking weapons covered in gore.

She’d heard whispered stories as a girl of Phenn raiding parties. They said entire border towns disappeared in the early years of the war.

Carmine was supposed to be the gift that ended the wars between their people.

“Please!” She begged, but was answered with a gloved fist to her face. She sprawled heavily, the sound of bones breaking leaving her ears ringing and her nose gushing blood.

“Shut it” Lenkk growled, crouching down to bring his face close to hers. She felt his warm breath wash over her face and smiled despite the pain. Her broken nose spared her its stench. He recoiled, his face a sudden storm of fury as he buried his boot into her side.

Bones cracked and she gasped from the pain. Rolling from the impact she curled and retched, painting the cobblestone with blood and bile. Around her the Phenn cheered.

“Stop!” Marisse exclaimed, putting herself between Carmine and Lenkk. “Leave her be.” Her quivering chin was held high despite the tears that ran down her cheeks. Lenkk’s face shifted from confusion to humor and he let out a deep laugh.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asked, pulling Marisse close by the back of her head.

“Princess Carmine.” She replied, voice wavering.

“And that’s an order, Princess?” He didn’t give her time to answer as he pulled a long dagger from his belt and buried it in her chest. Her eyes bulged and she gasped open mouth before he let her slip to the ground.

“Leave her where they’ll find her, we want that treaty torn up.” He said and turned her attention to Carmine. “And you come with me. After all the little Princess ordered I keep you alive.”

He chuckled as he gagged her and threw her across the back of his horse. She felt darkness press in as her wounds threatened to swallow her and he leaned close again. “If you’re lucky, you’ll live long enough to watch all of your cities burn.”

The Culling (sffworld.com July 2017 Flash Fiction Entry)

The Culling 

“Blessings children.” The Friar spoke softly, his hand resting momentarily on the shoulder of each Andling as he passed. They stood on a raised dais, semi-translucent skin seeming to glow as the sun cast its last fiery rays before it settled behind the peaks of the Mandrakes.

Caj scanned the small gathering, finding her parents standing near the back of the gathering. She smiled slightly, swallowing her nervousness as the Culling grew near. Soon, she’d be Andling no more.

“Each one of you has been chosen to endure by the Oracle.” The Friar spoke again, nodding to his Priests as he paced. One stopped briefly and handed her an amber Culling Stone. She turned it over in her hands, feeling its warmth despite coolness of the day. “No longer will you be bound by your weakness to the land. Soon, you will be reborn in Valkyr’s own image!”

Soon, the ceremony concluded and the children were herded towards the mouth of a cave, cheers from the gathered urging them on. A massive stone was levered into place and the room was pitched into darkness. Caj swallowed hard, using notches cut from the roughhewn walls to guide her to where they would sleep. Still clutched in her hands, the Stone pulsed with energy as lowered to the ground, quickly succumbing to a dreamless sleep.

***

Caj sat crossed legged. Hours had passed since she’d awoke before she heard the sound of the stone being removed. Standing and still gripping the now-cold Culling Stone, she fell into place behind the other survivors as they exited the cave.

“Andlore.” The Friar announced as he saw them emerge, their skin now opaque and pale in the light of the night. “Just days have passed, but you are reborn.” A cheer went up around them as their families crowded around the dais. Caj felt pride swell as she searched the crowd, and tears stung her cheeks as she saw her parents embrace with joy.

They bowed their heads collectively to show respect to those who’d passed on to join the courts of Valkyr, their bodies entombed as the stone was rolled back into place. Their twelve Andling had become five.

When the moment had passed, the rustling sound of new Andlore wings being unfurled filled the air. Caj pushed, as she’d been taught, but nothing happened. She pushed again, but the new skin along her back refused to yield.

“What is this?” The Friar asked, and all eyes turned towards her. Caj opened her mouth to speak, the sense of joy being swallowed by a wave of intense shame. She pushed again, one last effort, but the sudden pain extinguished her consciousness.

***

Caj sat just outside of ear shot as a Council conferred. While they did not speak, her parents attended, sparing her not one moment of acknowledgment. Her shame was doubly theirs. The Oracle sat among them, her milky eyes long since sightless but casting a heavy stare in Caj’s direction.
The Failed must die.

It was written that those who did not survive the Culling were simply being called to serve Her in Heaven. These were considered by some to be the lucky ones; to serve in innocence at the side of Valkyr. No one had survived the Culling and still not received Her gift, but the words still held truth. The Failed must die.

***

She was led by the Friar and his Priests through winding mountain paths until they reached an alter cut directly from the face of the peak. The cliffs dropped sharply away leaving a breathtaking view of the Andlore lands beyond. An image of Valkyr was carved from the face of the cliff, a sentinel over Her people.

“It is said, the greatest gift we can receive is to serve in in the very home of our God. She would take this one with her to serve in eternity. Peace, Andlore, for you are loved.”

The Friar pushed Caj and she fell.

Wind whipped past her, and she felt the grip of terror tighten firmly. She shut her eyes against the canopy below her and readied to scream, but a sudden warmth washed over her, squashing her fears.

My Child.

Words echoed in her head and she closed her eyes again, as if in compliance. Brilliant prismatic eyes stared back at her and she reached for it with her very soul.

No child, awake!

The words erupted with concussive pressure, the weight of a million souls forced through her body and she arched her back in pain. Finally, she screamed.

***

The Friar fell to his knees before her, unbidden tears streamed down his cheeks. Her feet landed gently and blades of grass bowed beneath a powerful beat of her wings. He bowed his head but she gently lifted his chin with delicate fingers.

“My Child.” She said, and he erupted into sobbing. The others around him lowered themselves prostrate as well, reverence emanating like a force between them. She turned to each one, resting her hand on each shoulder as she passed. Caj smiled, the power pulsed in her gut like the heat from the Culling Stone.

“Rise.” She said. No longer an Andling, she stepped back to regard them, eyes lingering on her tearful parents. She felt content as they smiled back. Her gaze rested finally on the face of Valkyr, a face she’d see every time she closed her eyes.

In the low light she would swear a smile spread across the face, urging her on. Caj nodded toward it, pausing for one last look back behind her. With two massive beats of her wings, she rose into the air before them.

They stood now, edging towards the precipice as she continued higher, the red and blue light of the dying day reflecting in swirls of color around her. With a cry, she turned and let the winds carry her away.

Mutiny

Mutiny

by Mike Pollock
(December 2016 Micro-Fiction Entry: SFFWorld)

Captain Farnham leaned back in his cryopod and watched his deep-space crew secure themselves before the flight.

“Atmosphere removal in 10…” Warning announcements blared over the ships intercom. Around the room pod doors slid shut; all but his own.

“Hey!” Farnham cried, fingers blindly tearing at restraints. The countdown completed and the roar of exhaust fans filled the room.

Panicked flailing turned his hands to fumbling and his vision grew dim. Darkness swept in around him as consciousness fled, and a masked face swirled into view.

A familiar voice spoke the last words he’d ever hear.

“Sleep well, my captain.”