Tales a sip from a can of Sparkling Thirst Killer

Capitalism!

The Michigander in me wants you to know those are rookie numbers and you need to bump them up.

You smoked like a chimney. You smoked so much that you got fired, but then you've decided to take a smoke break from being fired.

Fair. the logic train is a tiny bit stretching it, but it does still make sense. Ok you sold me XD

The following transcripts were compiled from voice messages left on the employee services line for Callisto Research Base 115.

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2399-08-11T13:44:05.890981Z

Hello, this is Thomas Lee calling from lab 507B. I am currently experiencing a problem with the trash bin; it keeps repeating the message "please clear the trash receptacle" even though the bin is empty. Please call back or send a tech. My employee number is E9910394, my desk phone is 78-234-200-3198. Thank you.

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2399-08-11T14:02:12:091383Z

Hello, this is Thomas Lee from 507B again. The employee services line webpage says your hours of operation are from 6am to 10pm so I'm not sure why you're not getting back to me. I'm still experiencing trouble with the trash bin, which is repeatedly telling me to "please clear the trash receptacle" despite being empty.

I'm going head to the cafeteria for another strawberry-banana smoothie; if you could get a tech down here while I'm out that would be just super. Again, you can reach me at 78-234-200-3198. Thanks.

​

2399-08-11T14:11:54.324882Z

Hi. This is Tom. Are you guys even in the office today? The trash can has been telling me to "please clear the trash receptacle" every five seconds for the last half hour. I need someone to fix this; it's seriously affecting my ability to get work done.

​

2399-08-11T14:38:33.002741Z

Please clear the trash receptacle.

Please clear the trash receptacle.

Please clear the trash receptacle.

See how annoying this is?

Please clear the trash receptacle.

Please clear the trash receptacle.

Puh-lee-ease clear the trash receptacle.

This is the employee services line. I'm an employee. I need services. It's been, like, an hour at this point. Please get back to me.

​

2399-08-11T14:52:02.091244Z

Hi there. Tom from 507B here. Am I going insane? I walked my ass all the way down to the employee services center and the door was locked and the lights are out. I need services. I need someone to fix my stupid trash can. Is anyone home? Or am I the only person on this stupid moon?

I'm gonna lose it. If I hear the phrase "please clear the trash receptacle" one more time I'm stepping out of the airlock in my underwear. And yes, please do report me to mental health services for that threat. Tom out.

​

2399-08-11T15:32:49.328813Z

Hello, this is Thomas Lee. I left a few messages on the employee services line earlier and I'd like to report that they can be disregarded. I was having a problem with the trash receptacle in my lab but it turns out there was just strawberry-banana smoothie spilled on the sensor; it's working fine now.

By the way, I heard around the water cooler that you guys were going to be out from one to four today for Sheryl's back-to-Earth goodbye party. Hope that was fun!

Please do not report me to mental health services.

That's all.

Again, this was Thomas Lee, employee E9910394. Thank you.

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What a good read! Thank you for giving me the pleasure to read such a story. It's precise, concise and well within the given prompt but it gives you the impression you've been there and came back to tell us about it.

"Suggestions, comrades?"

The blast door to the bridge of the alien vessel held firm. If it remotely resembled the one that had just locked behind them on the other side of the large room they now shared with one hundred shriveled alien corpses, it would be at least a foot thick and made of solid steel.

"I... I don't think it'll be a problem, Captain."

The First Officer, with his newly awakened necromantic abilities, closed his eyes. When he opened them they shone a bright red.

"Al sathool el abad. Hasheyal nei cal vool!"

He pointed at the blast door, then blinked as his eyes returned to their normal deep hazel.

"We're going to want to stand back a bit."

The trio took a few steps back as the blast door began glowing a bright red and even from their distance, the heat coming from it was intense.

"Fantastic plan, first mate! Commander Suck, please clear the bridge once the door has melted."

"Sweep subroutine engaged."

The door dissolved into a pool of molten metal and Commander Suck leaped over the threshold into the bridge. They were charged by an alien wielding a curved sword, but this seemed to not inconvenience the Commander in the slightest. They picked the would be attacker up with their exoskeleton arms and ripped the alien in two pieces while simultaneously mowing down seven armed aliens with its mounted blaster rifles.

The remaining seven aliens threw their weapons to the ground and covered their eyes, presumably in surrender.

"Executing liquidation subroutine."

"Belay that order, Commander. First Officer, please establish a connection to the Polaris computer and have the universal translator application installed on myself."

"You got it, Cut Cut."

The Captain bowed his head for a moment, then walked over to what appeared to be a command terminal. He pointed to the nearest alien, and Commander Suck walked over and shoved it towards the Captain.

"Greetings, alien enemy! Please speak so we may establish a dialog."

"Gefracko? Bedlambia gop ooblau-bastard! Why would I speak to a murderous machine?"

The captain shot the alien in the head.

"That'll do. Commander Suck, you may proceed."

The former vacuum relieved the remaining enemies of their life energy, transferring it to the First Officer. Captain Cut Cut began working at a terminal, and an image appeared on the large screen at the end of the bridge.

An image of Earth.

Love it, but the Minnesotan in me needs to let you know that it's "The land of ten-thousand lakes"

Thank you my friend.

Yeah, I was really fond of the top story for that one, too, but I can't find it again...

lol, you should look into the Writing Prompt I submitted here today. ( Pretty please, no one has submitted nay stories yet)

This gave me the chills. I love it! 🏅

Ooh, the idea of picking up centuries later is really neat. That was great!

Yeah that makes sense.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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Yeah, I was wondering if this counts as Established Universe.

ohsnap XD

The Twenty-Niners

How strange is it that the time between our births and deaths are arbitrarily decided by a calendar invented and maintained only by humans, and yet that has always been the way. I was born on March 31st, 1990 and once I arrived into the world kicking and screaming the maternity ward’s oracles divined my death to be on a February 29th, the year kept to themselves as is and always was tradition. I wonder what they knew when the divined my death, along with the many others like me.

It’s been four hundred years since then, I’ve seen many people come and go. My relationship with my fellow man has unfortunately slipped into that close to that an average man and his dog: we’re best friends for a short yet meaningful time, and by the time we know it they’re already dead. It’s a sad life, which is why myself and other Twenty-Niners mostly keep among ourselves these days, living together in small communes in ranches or group houses in urban centers. Fellow immortals give our gift due to congress many centuries ago deciding to get rid of the leap year because it was “too confusing” with no formidable replacement in site. Over time human civilization slipped into a world of lies and half truths, people grew distrusting of the government and the other institutions that have held civilization together for so long, soon universities and research centers became nothing more than “hobbies” for the elite few, and the seasons began drifting with the dates. The snow stopped falling in December as it drifted further towards the summer solstice, and in centuries time people wondered why there were so many songs about snow when Christmas happened in the middle of the summer time. It became too much for us Twenty-Niners who knew a different kind of world.

I live in the mountains on a small ranch amongst a group of many of my kind who had given up on the outside world and taken an oath of celibacy. There’s another thing about us Twenty-Niners, it’s that our children aren’t guaranteed to die on the 29th, especially in a post-29th world. As one would expect, nothing creates a greater crisis and grief as outliving so many of our offspring. I had birthed too many children who died and I have had enough. Hear that fate is mine no more.

Of course a few of us don’t live in communes. The Extroverts as we call them. They live amongst the others either trying to live a normal life until their death date is found out, forcing them to drop everything and start anew in another city (some cycle between cities and countries, like outfits, leaving and returning after a few generations have passed and returning to a clean slate). Others have tried to use their immortality, knowledge and wealth to amass power, with only a few succeeding while most are driven off. Henry Samson comes to mind. A former partner of mine who spent half a century with me at an urban Twenty-Niner community before taking off to rule a small island nation off the Gulf coast. I hear he’s made quite the name for himself there, but I haven’t paid attention to the news in decades to know what’s up. There’s also Becca O’Hare, the world’s richest human to ever lived. Although I have never met her, her name has become synonymous with the greedy Twenty-Niners out there. “Don’t be such an O’Hare” people will say once the matter of wealth is brought up. And then there are the politicians of us, the snakes and rats in sheep’s clothing who emerge every so often to enter the rotten world of politics to solidify our longevity by making sure legislation to restore the 29th day of February never returns and promote the indefinite continuity of idiocy that keeps the population subverted. They make the warlords of small island nations and megalomaniacs who bare our death day seem like reasonable people in comparison.

Out here in the mountains where the air is forever cool and crisp I sit upon the lodge’s deck, meditating on the facts of life and death. Many people’s lives are prolonged by heroes rushing into the scene of an accident, or by the intelligence and wisdom of their medical professionals keeping one’s heart beating in spite of whatever ailments they’re cursed with. Ours had been prolonged by the inept bureaucracy of the government.

Thank you for reading! Check out /r/QuadrantNine for more stories by me if you so feel like it. Immortality and what it does to one’s psyche is a common theme that I like to explore in my stories, so if you enjoyed this I recommend checking out “Retirement” which is about a general brought back from stasis ever so often to help her empire win conquests, only to awaken one last time to nothing but ruins and machines waging a pointless war. I also recommend “Boxed In” which is about a mimic who’s trapped inside the ruins of a castle for 10,000 years, unable to escape the form of a simple box of supplies.

Edit: Fixed a typo for my writing subreddit. Whoops 🤦

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You killed it! I’m sitting here crying and I want to wholeheartedly thank you for that <3

Maybe it’s only good enough to make beings that live only briefly? Also/otherwise, perhaps there’s a maximum size it can make.

That does explain many of its quirks, however XD

Username checks out?