Short on Time

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Need more quirk in your quarantine? How about a few short short-timer flash scifi pieces from Space Squid? Free fictional fun and humor... enjoy!

The Final Crunch by Cameron Stewart

Around eight months ago, the Galactic Bureau of Investigation found that the sound of a crunch would distract the common worker just enough that it led to an overall 0.00000000000001% decrease in productivity. Needless to say, they felt all crunching must be abolished. First step: shut down all the farms producing food with what they referred to as ‘High Crunch Potential.' Took away a lot of jobs from good hardworking farmers. Took away the crunch, too. That deliciously audible crunch.

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Feline Sweets and Dillocon Treats

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Today's treats include a short story by boomer trujillo, photos from our Armadillocon 2018 culinary contest, and a selection of award winners from our more recent Armadillocon flash fiction contests!

The Trans-Historical Correlation between the Technological and Felinological

Werner Goldstein and Marie Milligan accepted the year’s Nobel for physics. Their paper “Macroscopic Extrapolations of Quantum Entanglement and Transcommunicative Phenomena” chronicled the first reproducible instances of teleportation. After sufficient adjustment of their machines, i.e., giddy tinkering under sleep deprivation, their lab teleported coffee, a copy of A Brief History of Time, and Quark, the lab cat, to Geneva, Switzerland.

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The Tom Plutarch Interview

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A new voice speaks. ‘Okay, Tom. Can we begin?’

‘Please.’

Rustling of papers and plastic.

‘Okay, the dictation machine is on. Cool. This is Sally McDonald from the Incredible or Impossible Magazine, and I have Tom Plutarch sitting next to me.

‘Just for reference, Tom is a millionaire entrepreneur, Buddhist priest, professor of psychology, Nobel- and Pulitzer-prize-winning author, and last but not least, a superhuman mind reader. Tom, when did you start to read other people’s thoughts?’

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Checkmate

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Umam Preth was preparing a deadly concoction of three parts jaffiger and two parts sillin when the robot slammed through the window.

"Hey, Professor," the Vee3 said in greeting. Its manipulator field rolled it upright.

He watched the spilled jaffiger slip through the cracks of the plas-mesh floor. Without the jaffiger, sillin was only mildly noxious. It lapped innocently against the sides of the last martini glass in the universe.

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Old Habits

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This particular saloon wasn't much. He spat again before pushing through swinging doors that were just a hair off kilter. Even the conversations inside were muted, the voices somehow subdued by the ominous and continuous presence of death. Not too different from the old days to be honest, but the afterlife carried a depressing and lackluster aura with it, a cheap facsimile only simulating real life.

The booze didn't burn, the sex didn't titillate, and the bullets certainly didn't do shit in this place. Not anything that hadn't already been done, that is.

The dead cowboy still stalked to the bar like he might be looking for a fight.

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Posted in Featured Fiction