Justin’s Comments (group member since Mar 13, 2016)

Justin’s comments from the Science Fiction Microstory Contest group.

Justin Sewall’s review of “Tropical Fish” by C. Lloyd Preville

The first manned mission to Mars runs into something completely alien and unexpected – with dire consequences. From within the thin crust and loose rubble composing Phobos, a leviathan emerges with an appetite for spacecraft. Or maybe it is protecting its territory. No motivation is discernable in its jet-black eyes and the poor Martian pioneers end up in its gaping maw as lunch.

Preville’s imagery is descriptive and delivery crisp in this biting tale of a failed mission to Mars. I envisioned a creature similar to that of the first large fish in Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. Too bad this hapless crew was not aboard the Millennium Falcon and able to quickly escape the grasp of this space-faring predator.

The dialogue in this story is sufficiently conversational, not overly techie or flashy and moves the story along in a solid, workman-like fashion. For the story it tells, that is enough. In my opinion, the whole tale feels like an average meat-and-potatoes monster-of-the-week (is that enough hyphenated words in one sentence?) This is not a criticism, just my gut feeling generated by Preville’s latest twisted tale of sci-fi terror.

Good work!

Tom wrote: "Justin wrote: "Thanks C!! The word Phobos just screamed something about fear to me. Twenty Kwatloos to anyone who finds the 2010 movie reference. :)"

"American bravery? Alive and well. Chinese com..."

Yes! 20 kwatloos to you! I did change it from Russian to Chinese. I always liked that exchange, and the movie. Thing is, as a kid I saw 2010 before 2001, so some things didn't make sense. When I finally did watch 2001 a lot of things fell into place. Anyway, thanks for the feedback!

Kalifer wrote: "Justin, I had a similar reality switch in my "Bill's Plight" microstory a while back. I think good VR will actually make people believe they are there in that future. It could be far scarier than a..."

As long as it doesn't make me motion sick... :)

C...what have you been drinking? :) LOL!

Thanks C!! The word Phobos just screamed something about fear to me. Twenty Kwatloos to anyone who finds the 2010 movie reference. :)

Thirteen Minutes in the Temple of Terror

Phobia – An anxiety disorder, causing irrational fear about a situation, living creature, place or object.

Phobos – Larger, innermost natural satellite of Mars. The personification of fear in Greek mythology.

We were supposed to be the first men on Mars.
After a five month trip in the most advanced space vehicle ever built by man, our objective loomed large and red before us.
Now, unless our luck changed, we were going to be the first permanent residents of its moon Phobos. And let me tell you, I didn’t like that idea one bit. Call it my rational fear of dying.
No one at NASA, EASA or the Russian and Chinese space agencies knew what was going on, and they wouldn’t for the next thirteen minutes. It would take another thirteen minutes for their response.
We were on our own. Our colleagues in the orbiting Tesla command module could only watch and listen helplessly.
Mars.
It was so close.
Only six thousand lousy kilometers between me and the surface – give or take. Close enough to base jump if I only had enough propulsive power – and wasn’t afraid of heights. But orbiting Mars until my oxygen gave out didn’t sound like fun either. Did I mention I’m afraid of asphyxiation too?
The screams from my other crewmates refocused my attention on the unknown terror outside.
It had started with Pieter, our Russian mission specialist. He had unilaterally decided to leave the Martian Landing Module to inspect the damage, then wandered off chasing some willow-the-wisp he claimed was flitting from rock to rock.
Well we could see him perfectly through the extended video mast and there wasn’t a damn thing out there.
“Pieter! You’re chasing your own shadow. Get back here!”
All we got back was a “Nyet,” followed by a lot of shouting, then static. To our shock, he completely vanished before our eyes. One instant he was there, the next he was gone.
“That’s an order!” I shouted in vain.
Nothing.
The next thing I knew, Xi and Ajit, the Chinese and Indian mission specialists, were donning their EVA suits and heading for the airlock.
I was rapidly losing control of the situation and my nerve. The walls of the landing module seemed to move inward and I began to feel a tightening in my chest. My claustrophobia, something I thought I had conquered long ago, started to reassert itself.
“We can’t just leave him out there!” Ajit protested.
“What has happened to American bravery?” chided Xi.
“It’s alive and well thank you very much! And what has happened to Chinese common sense?” I chastised hoarsely.
Xi only snorted in disgust and closed the pressure bulkhead behind him, leaving me alone with my growing sense of dread and foreboding.
I watched through the video mast as my two companions cautiously made their way across the deathly gray surface. I shivered involuntarily despite the warmth of my suit. There was no playful bounding across a lunar landscape. No, with a surface gravity of only 0.00057 meters per second squared, Xi and Ajit only weighed about 80 to 90 grams so any large jumps were simply out of the question.
“Do you see anything?” I asked, trying to hide the growing fear in my voice.
“Negative. It looks like we landed not too far from crater Stickney. Pieter may have fallen in and that’s why he seemed to just disappear.”
“Well be careful!”
“Copy that. His tracks go off in this direction…”
“Are you seeing this?” asked Ajit.
“What?” answered Xi.
“That small light.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“Xi’s right Ajit. There’s nothing out there. I’m not seeing anything from where I’m sitting and I’ve run the video feed through the light spectrum analyzer.”
“Well maybe if you were out here with us instead of cowering back in the landing module…”
“I’m not cowering, I’m following standard EVA procedures!!” Why were they ganging up on me? I unconsciously began rocking back and forth slightly in my seat.
Suddenly Xi screamed.
“Something’s got me! Ajit! Grab my hand!”
“Hold on!”
“Came from…underground…he” then static and nothing.
“Ajit get back here immediately!”
“Already on my waaaaaaaaaa…”
“Ajit?! Hello?! Anyone?!”
The landing module lights began to flicker, creating a sickly strobe effect and the master caution alarm sounded. I distinctly felt the entire module vibrating.
Banging sounds came from outside.
Make it stop…
Please make it stop…
***
“Okay Harry, open up the simulator. I think this poor guy’s had enough. Scratch him from the mission list.”


(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2019
Reviews/critiques welcome

Good one C! Bummer to get all that way to Mars, only to be swallowed by a giant galactic grouper... :)

Kalifer wrote: "I was shocked. I thought Justin's "Tech Noir Redux" took the cake. I thought that was the reason for fewer entries this month."

Thanks Kalifer!

Both great stories!

A gamble. Ha! I saw what you did there C! :) Nicely done!

I liked your story Timothy. Funny, smooth and well written!

Nice one Chris! Thought it was going one way, then you veered another. Well played and well written!

Good one Jot!

Tom wrote: "Thanks, Justin. And, I'm glad you gave noir a shot. Your story was great fun."

Thanks Tom, much appreciated!

Kalifer, I may never swat another fly again... Good work!

Thanks guys! Oddly enough, this prompt seemed easier and the story just flowed. I've never written anything remotely noir-ish, so I thought I'd try out all the clichés that go along with it.

Sorry to cut in on your idea Jack!

Tom, good story!

Tech Noir Redux

I sat at my desk, nursing another glass of go-juice and watched the rain fall on the heart of the darkened city. My ashtray overflowed with spent fusion sticks, and the whole place looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Probably because I couldn’t pay the cleaning lady – or anyone else for that matter. That made me a real popular guy for the bill collectors, but they didn’t worry me none.

I was just reading how Nicky Nanite had bumped off P.C. Mac in the latest act of mob violence when she walked in. Abruptly, casually and sensuously all at the same time. From the nanosecond she entered my office I knew she was trouble. I knew she was trouble because she’d brought trouble into my life before, but it didn’t stop me from going down a logic path that could only end badly for us both. I could tell from the optics she was sending my way that she knew it too.

“Well, don’tcha say hello to old friends when they drop in?” she flashed. I picked up the data stream she was putting out and tried, with limited success, to ignore it. Some women just knew how to get past my firewall.

“Been a long time, hasn’t it Frankie?”

“Two years, four months, three days, nine hours…”

“I get the picture sweets,” I had to cut her off. If I didn’t, she stand there rattling off every digit right of the decimal for pi.

“Why didn’t you ever call me? You had my IP address…”

“It’s complicated baby.”

I took a sip of go-juice and tried stalling. I always had to compile as fast as I could just to keep up with her. When she’d walked out of my life, it left a hole in my heart I couldn’t just plug and play with a newer model.

“Only complicated because you over process things.”

She paused to give me a pouty face and dig for a fusion stick in her purse.

“Gotta light?”

“Why are you here Francesca? You didn’t just come slumming downtown to talk about old times with me.”

I held up my lighter as she leaned over the desk, coming within mere inches of my face. She still had a figure that was easy on the optics, and don’t get me started about her data ports. I said don’t get me started.

She blew smoke in my face and continued.

“Someone is trying to kill me.”

“That doesn’t compute. Who would want to kill you?”

“Some meatbag that’s been harassing me. He won’t leave me alone. Says I’m the love of his life and that he owns me. He’s already tried once. I won’t even mention all the beastly things he’s done to me.”

“Why don’t you go to the police?”

“They won’t do anything. They won’t even issue a restraining order. Says it comes with the territory for my model. What am I going to do? I’m afraid he’ll scrap me and sell my parts on the open market. Who knows where my CPU will end up? I’ll be stuck as someone’s automated toaster for the rest of my life.” She was on the verge of leaking coolant all over my desk.

“Okay, okay. Hold off on the waterworks Frankie,” I hated it when she cried.

“What do you want me to do? Rough him up? Hack his bank account? (I could really use the money) Blackmail him on social media?”

“Oh you are such a dear!” she squealed and blew more smoke in my face. At this point I was concentrating more on a potential interface with her like the old days - swapping data packets and trading files - than her actual case.

It was only then I noticed a large black duffel bag sitting at her feet.

“I need you to dispose of this,” she easily lifted it on to my desk. It was…moving.

“What’s in the bag Frankie?”

“Him.”

“Him who?” My central processor was simply not keeping up.

“The guy who’s trying to murder me of course love! You really need that processor upgrade.”

“My processor is just fine thank you very much. It’s top of the line for…”

“For five years ago,” she interrupted me.

“Now, would you be a lamb and drop this off the end of the space docks for me? Hmmm?”

She really knew how to press my buttons and hack my programming to suit her whims.

“Sure thing doll face. Anything for you.”

(750 words in story) Justin Sewall © 2019
Reviews/critiques welcome

Yep, things just click and you get a fantastic story. Others are harder. Just the way the creative process goes. Great work Dean!

I don't believe that for a minute! I'll keep writing until they put me in the ground and even if I hardly make any money from it.

Well...there is that.