The Idea | Chronicles Short (St. Patrick’s Day Post)

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One St. Patrick’s Day, after a long night of orange juice, smooth jazz, and a game or two of Chess AR, Brain jolted awake from his crash landing on the Doghouse couch. 

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed.

“Got what?” I asked, trying to rub away the brain freeze I received from drinking my St. Patty’s Day mint milkshake too quickly. 

“My next brilliant invention! I can inject our food and drink with nanobots. These nanobots could alter or absorb the unused material created from digestion. We would then remove the nanobots through perspiration or exhaling. No one would ever have to go the bathroom again!”

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I closed the holographic web browser with a mental command to my Omni-Cuff. I tapped my chin in thought. Now, why did I upload that memory into the cloud?

“JOE!”

I flipped around, startled by Brain’s voice. My Omn-Cuff headset nearly fell off from around my ear.

Brain crossed his arms and tapped his foot at me. The last time I’d seen him this angry was when I hacked into the training simulator and swapped the level 10 setting with the level 1 setting. “I thought we agreed to never access that memory again.”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. Now, I remember. The next day we all uploaded the memory into the cloud bank because we all agreed that was the silliest idea you ever came up with. I’m glad you decided to go with the blankets that could sing lullabies idea instead.”

Brain tapped his foot again and screwed his lip into an unhappy snarl. “Where did you get the idea to down…Never mind. I know. DANNY!”

Danny poked his head around the corner. “Be right with you; I got to share this memory file on PostBook first.”

“Daniel Smith, don’t you dare!” Uh-oh, Brain’s using contractions; he must be irked. Brain stormed after Danny. “Give me that Omni-Cuff right now!”

Danny was already at the door; he stood half in and half out. “You’ll have to catch me first,” he said in a sing-song voice before shutting the door behind him. A moment later, I could see his retreating form from the window.

Brain continued to yell after him as he exited with a door slam. I moved to the couch and flipped on the holo-vision set. “I’ll give it till they make the news before I interfere.”

Until the next wormhole…

HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY EVERYONE!


Copyright Joe Rover 2020. All rights reserved.

Mysterious Space Signals

The following is inspired by a news article about signals from space that return every 16 days. You can read the article here.

Brain yelped a cheer interrupting my nap. 

Ever since the news story about strange signals from space every 16 days, Brian’s been at his equipment trying to decode the blips and static. It was interesting for about the first 15 hours. 

“I did it!” said Brain. He adjusted dials and knobs as I yawned and scratched my head. “In a matter of moments, we will discover the nature of these pulses.” Brain continued to adjust wavelengths and double-check readouts; I moved from Brain’s cot to the seat next to him. “Scientists are debating if the pulses are caused by an orbiting object blocking the source or if the source is orbiting an object. Another possibility is the source itself is pulsing.” 

The machine whined for a minute, which woke me up even further.

“Translation of cosmic pulses complete,” said SPOT, the artificial intelligence.

Brain and I fell into a deep hush. The machines beeped a couple times before the answer came.

“Eat at Joe’s,” said a friendly voice bouncing out of the speakers like a used car salesman who’d spotted a customer from across the lot. “Save 20 percent on your first online order. Offer expires 500 million years from broadcast date–Galactic year 2151.”

A hologram calendar appeared above my watch. “Drat!” I said. “It expired yesterday.”  

“Remember,” the ad continued, “if your order doesn’t arrive in 30 parsecs, it’s free.”

I sighed. “Why does everyone get that wrong? Parsecs are not a measurement of time!” I glanced over at Brain; he stared forward like a fish that’d just learned hooks are bad. “What’s wrong?”

“The greatest scientific mystery of our age…and it is a commercial.” He covered his face with a hand. “Why is the universe such a cruel mistress?”

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Copyright 2020 Joe Rover. All rights reserved.