Blog Archives

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

scifi-cat-story

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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Welcome to a New World

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“What the hell am I supposed to do with those?” I said, glaring at the frilly pink socks dangling between Hummer’s pincers. “I’m twenty-two, not two.”
He grunted and tossed them over his armor-plated shoulder.
“Just stick to looking for band aids,” I said, and carried on riffling through the racks. “Or even better, try and root out some shower gel. You stink worse than these rotten rags on my feet. Damn this war, and damn you and the rest of those… cockroaches!”
With a swipe of a claw, he smashed the contents of the shelf he’d been picking through to the floor.

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All Hail Autumn

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“Director T’Kar?” Gogar shouted. His words echoed through the system monitoring hub before finally reaching their target. “I think we have a serious problem.”

The large, grey-skinned creature in the center of the room roared and stomped his way toward the source of the voice. “What is it this time?”

Gogar waved a webbed appendage at a series of angry red dots on one of the bright screens before him. “It’s the HS.SolMW virus again.”

T’Kar grunted, a sound loud enough to make Gogar jump in his chair. “Great. Just great.”

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Shishkosh

food scifi

Today, here on Eustachia, it’s a different ballgame altogether.  First of all, they don’t eat anything they can cook.  My guard in his white apron serves me Eustachian wafers at prescribed intervals.  Though they come in different flavors, I’ve yet to distinguish any difference between them.  Imagine a piece of hide from a zulkof, maybe a baby zulkof (if you’re lucky), that you chew and chew and chew, turning it over in your mouth again and again, sucking down the juices, before finally—if you’re a foreigner like me—spitting it out in sheer fatigue and boredom.  One thing I must say for it: it does kill the appetite and stall the cramps for a while.

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