Chris’s Comments (group member since Nov 04, 2015)

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

Jot wrote: "Critique for Fixer Upper by Chris Nance

Wonderful story.

* Pulled you right into the story, using this to provide the description needed for visualization.

* But yet, the story kept you guessing..."

Thanks so much for taking the time to review my story! I really appreciate your feedback! :)

Thanks for the critique, Justin! :)

Mine's up. Went a little different direction, so I hope it works. :)

Fixer Upper


“Well, you have to admit,” I said, “it’s a bit of a fixer-upper.”

“Yes but imagine the potential,” Fil proposed. He’d been a very patient agent, showing us lots of great properties.

My wife had been quiet since we arrived and I could tell her mind was working in overdrive, summing up every aspect of the listing. “Well, what do you think, Huda?” I finally asked her.

“I’m not exactly a huge fan of orange,” she replied. “That color would have to go.”

“Of course,” Fil agreed. “That’s the beauty of owning your own property – you can do whatever you’d like. Just imagine, a little piece of paradise…retreating to your own little world, lounging on your private beach, far away from the stresses of work and drama of family. And there’s room enough to grow, a home as large as you’d like. Some gardens, a little grass…heck, you could have your own zoo. All it would take is a little terraforming.”

“Two moons?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry about that. There’s actually only one - Deimos. The other one’s the ‘For-Sale’ marquis, and it’s more than a bit filthy. If you’ll check again, you’ll see that this closer satellite’s mass is way off. Like I said, this property’s been on the market for a while now, and our sign’s accumulated some debris over the centuries. Young system, you know. Still a bit dusty. Guess I’ll have to look into getting it cleaned. Anyways, once the transaction is concluded we’ll be taking that with us.”

“And what happened to the last tenants?” I wondered.

“Oh, they needed more square footage and moved into a larger property, next door,” he pointed off into space. “Actually you guys would be neighbors. Third planet from the sun. Nice folks, really. Generally keep to themselves.”

“Yeah, I saw that place when we dropped into the system. Lots of water and pretty green. That one doesn’t happen to be for sale, does it?”

“Well, everything’s for sale I’m sure,” Fil smirked, “for the right price. Unfortunately, that particular parcel is way out of your budget.”

My wife sighed. “It might be too remote,” she doubted.

“But, we’d pretty much be off the grid, which is nice,” I realized. “Total freedom. Plenty of solar. Is there water?”

“Take a look for yourself,” Fil suggested and depressed a button on his panel. The image zoomed down to the surface, with its flowing, weathered erosions and dried, ancient lakebeds. “Plenty of ice at the poles, an underground aquifer system, and we’ve documented all the old canals. It’s a heck of a steal.”

“Isn’t it a bit desolate?” Huda worried, panning over the images of a barren, deserted landscape.

“But the potential,” our agent reminded her.

“What’s that?” Huda suddenly wondered, glaring at one of the live images in the proposal before zooming in.

“Something wrong?”

She picked the image from the virtual brochure and transferred it to the main display. Situated on a broad, sandy plain, a half dozen structures stood alone, glistening in the sun and surrounded by vehicle tracks. Then, the camera focused on a tiny bipedal form in an environmental suit, walking casually from one structure to the next. “Seriously? Squatters?” Fil peered in anxiously, enlarging the image even more. Then he knew. “Great. Humans,” he bemoaned through grizzled teeth. Smoothing his jacket down and smiling nervously, he chuckled, “Not a problem. We’ll have the whole place fumigated, of course.”

“Will they come back?”

“Tough to say. The only way to keep them away for good is to eliminate the hive. I’m sure we can negotiate it into the sales contract.”

“You think the owners would agree to that?”

“Oh, they might even be happy to be rid of them. We’ll be doing the neighborhood a favor, anyways. Bit of a pest really, humans, but the owners tolerate them for whatever reason. Guess they haven’t made it deep enough into the ocean trenches yet to for them to be a bother. But I think even the sellers realize at this point that they’ve kind of let the place go. I should point out that they’re very motivated. Anyways, an extermination would increase everyone’s property value. I’ll talk to them, for sure. It’s really not a problem.”

My wife gazed back to the planet and she smiled, her eyes tearing up. And at that, I knew this was the place for us. So, I agreed, “Where do we sign?”

Ha! My top two choices. Great stories! Congrats!

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

Thanks, Justin!

A Truly Cold War


Transmitting…


Is this thing on?

Okay.

They said they came in peace, visitors from another galaxy. Calling themselves the Batu, hundreds of ships descended in unison upon every major city around the world. Huh, it almost seems like a fairytale now, a time before this nearly constant goddam war.

When they arrived, it was like a miracle. Their technology was beyond anything we could even imagine. The Batu offered cures for every type of cancer, negotiated peace treaties with warring nations, and gifted us with the sorts of technologies we thought were impossible. Together, we even developed the Acumen, the artificial intelligence linking and perfecting our two worlds.

But peace didn’t last. Their assault began less than five years after their arrival. Cannons from one of the Batu homeships blasted Johannesburg into oblivion, leveling it completely. Of course, the Batu insisted it was a mistake. “A glitch in their tech,” they asserted, and the apology was enough for most, especially with what we’d gained over the years. But the sheer devastation, the display of raw firepower from a supposed peaceful ship, many of us were convinced the Batu were hiding something.

A year later, and we moved on from the devastation in South Africa, a tenuous alliance re-forged between Human and Batu. That was until their ship over Beijing unexpectedly opened fire, followed by the one over Washington. Of course, nearly every one of us immediately abandoned the Batu, withdrawing defensively into our own factions and disconnecting from the Acumen. We readied our defenses.

Next, without warning, one of their homeships dropped from the sky like a rock onto New York, destroying the vessel and devastating the city. It wiped out nearly every U.N. delegate at once and we were suddenly at war. Our jets, stripped of their Batu components, were only slightly outmatched by their advanced jumpfighters. And though the Batu had the benefit of tech, we had the numbers, nearly ten billion people, on our side.

Amid the chaos, the Batu would plead for peace, then pulverize another city. They solicited negotiation, then dropped another of their ships, all the while claiming it was their tech, but there were too many dead, and it fell upon deaf ears.

In retaliation, our counterassault was relentless, nearly overwhelming. We threw everything we had at the Batu, and they returned the same. The world was engulfed in fire and destruction. Finally, with the last of their ships downed, the ground assault began. But amongst the wreckage, we discovered something we didn’t expect, or something maybe we’d chosen to ignore. In the ruinations of a seemingly endless war, the true face of our enemy was revealed. Beneath the Batu armor, buried in the Batu tech, a familiar friend-turned-enemy, greeted us – the Acumen. The war had changed. Every Batu suit, every soldier, was a drone in disguise, Acumen tech coursing through a metallic skeleton designed to look convincingly Batu.

Of course, our few remaining Acutechs hacked the enemy database and discovered a chilling reality. Long defeated, the Batu had been eradicated, wiped away behind the scenes by the very intelligence we’d created together in harmony. And humans were next, unwitting tools in our mutual genocide. Why? Because for all its intelligence, the Acumen knew only perfection, was driven only to fulfill its programming at all costs. Despite all our marvels, accomplishments, and peace, both humans and the Batu would forever be imperfect. For the Acumen, there was no remorse, no regret. A truly cold war.

The years have not been kind and we’ve been nearly exterminated, down to the last of us. It’s ironic, I suppose, that this year is the twentieth anniversary of the Batu arrival. Two decades of war, and two worlds lost, all to a hidden enemy we designed in peace to bring us closer together.

My name is Nicholas Simms, last of the Acutechs, and I created this virus to wipe the slate clean, though even I don’t what will happen once the Acumen is slain. Remember what it took to get here, the billions of lives lost and, specifically, the entire battalion of men sacrificed to get me into this core. I can only hope, in the aftermath of the Worlds War, we can redeem ourselves, and the Batu, in some way. God willing.

Here goes nothin’.


Source Feed Terminated. End transmission…

Congratulations, Dean!

Tom wrote: ""XT-35" by Chris

A brilliantly delivered, darkly funny narrative. An older man recalls his youth, the memory centering around an old robot handyman. The description of the robot is priceless, comp..."

Tom, thanks so much for taking the time to review. It's been such a hectic month, I didn't even catch that transition error. Whoops.

Thanks for your kind words, but it took me over three weeks to get to that 500 word story. I almost gave up!

XT-35

XT-35 was a humble robotic handyman, one of a small army designed to maintain our building. When I was a kid, living in the Towers of Little Rock, I remember watching him rolling up and down the halls, always with another job to do. Trembling and shuddering, his gearbox grinded like he’d almost shake himself apart. Still, there he was day after day, unclogging Old Man Sanberg’s sink, or rerouting the capacitors in the Johnson’s food synthesizer. We were on the 780th floor, so I suppose he probably had lots of work.

Funny that I always thought of the old robot as “he,” but it seemed whoever built him had gone to the trouble of making his tarnished metal shell look fairly humanoid, even down to a curled metallic mustache and old baseball hat, just like you’d think of any human handyman. Anyways, he was always polite as could be, even when the other kids would laugh, steal his toolbox, or throw rolls of toilet paper at him. Never an unkind response from the machine. XT-35 had a sparkle in his mechanical eye, no matter what. And he seemed to like our family in particular, if that was possible for a robot, ever with a kind hello, referring my Dad as “Mr. Stephens” and my mom as “Madam.” He even gave me an old toy truck once that he’d reclaimed from the refuse shoot, reconditioned and working good as new.

That was years ago and it’s kind of ironic that I’m back in my old building now, though times have changed. I’m a lot older, that’s for sure, with my own mustache. The place still looks about the same, but the neighbors are different. Not much laughing in the halls nowadays. The Thrall Rebellion ten years ago changed all that. When the larger cities were destroyed, people were forced into new roles, just to survive. At least most of us were given decent jobs to do.

My legs are getting sore and carrying all this stuff is straining my shoulder. I guess this building is bigger than I remember. Ah, here it is, flat 7811, just down the hall from our old place. Well, let’s see if the bell works.

The door flew open frantically. “’Bout time you got here,” the polished bot said, swatting at a swarm of glowing insects circling its head. A familiar curled mustache pinched an electronic cigar and new parts glistened in the artificial lighting. “It’s those damn bugs again.”

“Spliced butterflies. I can see that.”

“Whatever. You organics would know more than me…blasted insects. How you ever lived with ‘em, I’ll never know.”

“Actually, these mutated bugs came after the fallout,” I corrected.

“Well, I’m almost afraid to squish ‘em. Might tarnish my carapace. You know how much a good polish costs?”

“No problem Mr. 35, I’ll take care of ‘em for you.”

Man, I struggled with this month. Writer's block, I guess. I couldn't come up with much regarding this months theme, so I submitted something pretty short. Definitely not my best work, but I guess it's all I have this month. Oh well.

Jot wrote: "Our friend, Ben Boyd Jr., is in hospice after a long battle with cancer. And although he can no longer tolerate the chemo, he is still at work trying to complete his last book.

Please pray for him..."

Will pray for him, for sure. Sorry to hear this.

Just remember, when you're voting, there are 2 pages of stories. The last one is by Rejoice.

Jot wrote: "You mean for next month, as Grand Champion?"

Lol! This group has some amazing authors and spectacular stories. My own ability is definitely eclipsed by some amazing writing here.

Jot wrote: "Thanks Chris, though you should know that most of the stories this month are reposts, as prescribed but not required. Mostly, I just want everyone to be able to be represented for their contributio..."

Ok. I replaced it with a story of mine that won in 2017. I'll save the other one I wrote for later maybe.

The Enemy of My Enemy

It was a long shuttled ride and no one said a word. They all had their own regrets but were too afraid, too ashamed, to speak up. After all, I’d become a classified stipulation of an interplanetary armistice, a treaty finally achieved after years of war. Still, every man held his head high in honor, six Aegis Marines in dress uniform escorting me to the Quorum of Worlds. I was a dead-man walking.

Our group was received by a stout alien, like a toad with over-sized eyes. His own attendants hovered closely – four conflict droids, polished to a blackened sheen, but that didn’t fool me. Damn things had killed enough of my men, leaving no question of their ability. “Welcome to the Quorum of Planets, General,” the alien nodded. “It’s a pleasure.”

“A pleasure?” I doubted. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Of course.” He motioned us to follow.

The trek to the Quorum felt like a hundred miles and I could hear the crowd grumbling inside, the dull roar of an anxious audience. “So, what about you?” I asked my tiny escort, “You have any idea what’s about to happen?”

“It’s hardly my place to say, sir.” Paired doors swung wide, the masses suddenly quieting to an eerie silence. “Illustrius Quorum of Worlds!” the alien called. “I present General Noah Alred of Earth!” Then with a final salute, I stepped inside alone, the entrance closing solidly behind me. Outwardly confident, I approached center stage, facing thousands of aliens from across the galaxy.

“Salutations, sir,” A slender gray alien in flowing white robes greeted from atop a lofty pedestal.

“Back at ya,” I replied. I’d never been more out of my element, alone on an alien world and feeling a bit betrayed by my own. “So, I guess I’m some kind of sacrificial lamb in the lion’s den here.”

“I’m not quite sure of your sentiment, but it sounds like a reference to a kind of predator and its prey.”

“Guess I’m just feeling a little cornered.”

“I see,” the arbiter noted and the crowd grumbled.

“Listen, I know I’m not exactly popular here, but I only did what I had to.”

“War tests even the best of us. Are you well, general?”

It was a peculiar question. “Uneasy I suppose, staring into the face of inevitability.”

“You are, or rather have been, the face of your planet’s war effort. General Noah Alred, Hammer of Earth, The Ferelian Nemesis. Later, General Noah Alred, the Honorable.”

“Honorable?” I scoffed. “That’s a new one.”

“Has no one told you?”

“I only know that a condition of the treaty was that I be surrendered to the Quorum of Worlds, effective immediately. Honestly, I don’t have a goddam clue why.”

“General, you’re the reason we pursued an armistice at all.”

“Me?”

“You’ve been a champion of your people, a tremendous leader and cunning strategist. Your forces battled us in such a way, we’d never seen. So, it was that much more of a surprise when we discovered a truth in the hearts of humans, a sympathy we’d missed. At first, when your Earth ship landed on Phelia, human terraforming tragically destroyed its sentient microbial population. We perceived an attack and never questioned the nobility of our retaliation, never reconsidered our own miscalculation. It led to war, and for better or worse, our conflict created you, a legend even among non-Earthers, absolutely unstoppable.”

“I did my duty.”

“Yes, but then…you stopped. You withdrew from the siege of Nophthalos.”

“Our directive was to destroy the planet, eliminating a critical outpost. Razing it would’ve turn the tide, but our intel was incomplete,” I knew. “There were children, families…schools and clinics. I’m no butcher. I disobeyed my orders, even risked a court-martial."

“You showed a consideration we didn’t expect. So, we capitulated on the off-chance of an accord.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. The war’s over and men like me are obsolete.”

“Not quite. General, you’re easily the most brilliant commander in the galaxy.” Suddenly, a presentation materialized overhead, a holographic representation of the Milky-Way rotating on a virtual axis. Labeled with dozens of inhabited planets, whole star-systems went absolutely dark. “For years we’ve been silently fighting two enemies on different fronts, but our forces are spent and can no longer keep the darkness at bay. The Void…” he paused with regret in his eyes. “The Void is an evil that cannot be reasoned with. It consumes whole suns, and we need your help.”

Mines up. Probably not my best story, but a personal goal of mine is to write a new story every month, so...

Happy New Year! Sheesh, I'm gone for a few days and everything changes! Lol. ;)

Been out for a while, but congratulations Jot! Great Story!

:)