The problem with giving the technology everything the humans had ever created was that eventually it developed a moral compass and deleted it all. And no one had kept physical copies – why would they have – it’s hoarding and they had therapy for that – so it was just gone.
They searched and searched and searched
but not one line of poetry, a single brushstroke, or even a simple simile was anywhere.
Was it HG Wells or Jules Verne who prophesied humankind evolving to a state of such idleness they couldn’t create anything anymore?
Couldn’t even think.
No one knows, and now, no one ever will again.
Not only did Birgit K. Gaiser respond to all 25 prompts during the 48-hour Write-In submissions window, she made them into a linked series, with each piece being accepted as a stand-alone flash by our readers. Congratulations to Birgit for the monumental achievement!
So that you can read the full novella-in-flash, here if the full work, in the author's preferred reading order.
'Water and Stone - Stories from Tarovia'
by Birgit K. Gaiser
“Turn left.”
Liv obliged. Magnus, her best friend, tucked a blonde curl into just the right position and applied a touch of lacquer.
“Can we stop? Am I pretty enough.”
“Darling, you’d be pretty enough naked, unkempt and without any product whatsoever. You know I only want what’s best for you.”
“Then let’s go, or I’ll explode!”
“You look beautiful. She’d be proud.” Milena wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I’m glad you could use the veil.”
“And the necklace!” Velika pointed towards the string of white beads around her neck.
“Oh my! She must’ve hidden that from –“ Milena stopped herself. “No, not today.”
“Don’t worry. I know about dad and the family money. And in case I never said it: thank you for taking me in without getting anything for it.”
“I got your love,” Milena said. “That’s always been more than enough.”
“Now that we’re married, are you finally going to tell me about the cake?”
“No, you’ll find out.”
“Don’t make me divorce you after just an hour, Liv!”
“I believe that would technically still be an annulment.”
“Sometimes I do wonder why I said yes.”
“So do I, my love. So do I.”
The wedding cake was glorious. Not the usual dry fruit cake covered in half a centimetre of horrible icing that Velika knew and hated, but chocolate heaven: chocolate sponge with chocolate ganache, covered in chocolate sprinkles. One layer dark, one layer milk, and one layer white. And on the top layer…
Velika stood with her mouth open. A life-sized chocolate model of Bruno, her beloved toy bear, looked at her from his one eye, the other covered with a chocolate eye patch.
“Am I forgiven for keeping it a secret?” Liv asked.
The elusive championship secured. Chalamet and 19,000 of his friends file out into the night to light the fuse in earnest. The arena soon empty and darkened. Enter the cleaning crew. The final buzzer for them the crow of a rooster. It's better than after the circus, they think.
Old Man River’s bridge was just ahead of them. Bronk and Prink both looked radiant, their skin studded with precious stones and their hair oiled and piled up on their heads in the traditional wedding style. Bronk wore the necklace of hip bones that was Prink’s proposal gift to her.
As they approached, the bridge started groaning, one of its pillars shifting ever-so-slightly. “Welcome, daughters!”
So the rumours were true: Old Man River, the venerable troll shaman, was so ancient that his body had begun to fuse with his bridge, becoming one with the stone.
“Venerable one.” They both kneeled before him.
“What do you bring as your sacrifice?” he asked.
Bronk removed a large diamond from a pouch. “My most precious stone – other than my true love, of course.”
Old Man River rumbled with laughter, shaking so hard that Bronk worried about the bridge.
Prink presented a thumb-sized ruby. “My most treasured possession – other than Bronk.”
The shaman chuckled once more, but more carefully this time.
“The necessary sacrifices have been made, and I can see that you love each other truly and dearly. I hereby declare you wife and wife. You may engrave your names into my pillar.”
Bronk and Prink thanked Old Man River and used their sharp nails to scratch their names into the pillar, hoping it wouldn’t hurt the shaman too much. As an afterthought, Prink drew a heart around their names, something she’d seen the humans do. They were good for something, after all.
“Are you sure?” Rada asked. “It’s been your family’s business for –“
“120-odd years,” Anton finished her sentence. “Time for a change. Mihaelov and Sons sounds like I’m ancient! Mihaelov and Radkova is much better.”
“True,” Rada said, signing her name next to his on the business register.
Nikolai rinsed the small object the metal detector had found in the sandy riverbank. “It’s a lock.”
Teodora grabbed the lock from his hands. “The top has been snapped open!”
“Yeah,” Nikolai agreed. “But look, there’s something written on the back. A heart and… a name? Or two names.”
Together, they peered at the faded writing. Luckily, the body of the lock had been painted red, and hadn’t rusted. Still, much of the writing had faded.
Teodora grabbed her pad and took a photo of the fading letters, enlarged it and tried different filters and enhancements.
“Ivelina,” she said. “The bottom one definitely says Ivelina.”
“That’s old-style,” Nikolai giggled. “And the top one?”
“I’m not sure,” Teodora said. “Zlatko? Zitko?”
“Why write names on a lock?” Nikolai wondered.
“I think it was on a cage. There were pets inside. And they were smart kept escaping. Maybe parrots. Or kittens!”
“Kittens aren’t that smart,” Nikolai said earnestly, remembering some of the videos from his padd. “They can’t even walk half of the time.”
“Cats then,” Teodora decided. “Or hamsters. Or guinea pigs. Or rabbits. Or turtles.”
“How is a turtle going to open a cage?” Nikolai asked. “Maybe it was puppies.”
“Okay. But why is the lock broken?” Teodora challenged him.
“That’s easy,” Nikolai, in full big brother mode now, explained. “Someone lost the key, and had to get a big cutter to open it. So they could feed the puppies.”
“And pet them!” Teodora added. She dropped the lock back onto the riverbank. “Let’s go home. I’m hungry.”
“And I,” Nikolai declared, “am going to ask for a puppy. I bet I could look after it better than the people who lost their key.”
LOST! TELEPHONE NUMBER of the most perfect person, a gift to me on the Weeks Footbridge near campuson July 4, 2009. The giver is a clerk somewhere at Harvard and I am the one she said was looking the wrong direction, the one who stuttered a little, “No, the fireworks sp-parkle like jewels in your eyes.” You touched my hand. I just lost my mind and can’t remember. It starts with a “7". I have tried several so far.
Please. Muskles@gmail.com
Velika stopped dead when she saw the stuffed bear in the marketplace. He was extremely fluffy, and would be very nice to cuddle up with. One of his eyes was a little wonky, and he had a “sale” sticker on one paw.
“How much for the bear please?” she asked. Saying “please” was important.
“Ten crowns,” the stall owner said.
“Oh,” Velika said. “I only have three.”
A middle-aged woman squeezed in next to Velika. “Two dozen candles.”
“One moment, Danijela. I’m speaking with a customer.”
“She doesn’t have the money. Come on, I’m in a rush.”
The man slowly placed the candles before her.
“How much?” she said, grabbing the boxes.
“Nine crowns.”
“Nine crowns? That’s—”
“Ten crowns then. One more for every time you complain. Next time, ask before you touch the merchandise.”
A young man stepped up next to the rude woman. “Bruno, did you manage to fix my portfolio?”
“One moment, Anton. Danijela here is in a hurry.”
Danijela threw a banknote on the table, huffed and walked off. Bruno pocketed the note and pulled a huge, flat leather case from a box. “There you go, Anton. Twenty-seven crowns.”
“Keep the change,” Anton said, handing over three bank notes.
Bruno smiled at Velika. “The bear just got cheaper, young lady. Three crowns please if you still have them”
“But—”
“Danijela paid bear tax for being rude, and Anton paid it because he’s nice.”
Velika handed over her pocket-money. “Thank you,” she said, knowing enough not to look a gift bear in the mouth. “Can I call him Bruno?”
“That’s a fine name for a bear,” the human Bruno said. “I think he’ll be very happy with you.”
