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I wrote this from Alder's Grove's 16-minute prompt for this week.


“It’s a concept,” said Meiken.

“A concept of what?” It was Trusdale who asked that.

“Of where we can put further higher functionality within the system,” replied Meiken.

“With cross saving via other herd members, yes?” Nkumbra looked from the screen to his colleagues and back again.

“Yes, but why do you ask?” Meiken looked confused. “You’re system security, not processing.”

“My security modules are going to need something to eat and predation on damaged, aged or excess processing units would solve several problems. Not least, Chekhova’s concern that the grazing units would multiply to sufficient levels that they could eradicate her diffuse power systems.” Nkumbra pressed a few places on his controller and the stats of the ‘moose’ on screen were displayed beside the images. “These would also be edible by the resident staff.”

“Is resident staff a good idea?” Trusdale voiced that old question.

“It’s a better idea than leaving a super computer sitting alone in a public place and expecting it not to be stolen.” Nkumbra paused for a moment then added, “Or taken apart for its component parts."


 
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I wrote this to the sixteen minute prompt at Alder's Grove.

Mason cavils chill.

Morris-pikes are beside my griegos…

I do top.

Because Mister Unrebukable and Mason smooch reversibly…

O. I do transform.

“When I was your age,” said Grandfather Jack, “songs had lyrics that made sense. That...noise doesn’t have understandable phrases and the sounds don’t even do anything special with the music.” He looked repressingly at Grandma Josie who was tapping her foot to the bass beat.

“She asked me to bring it over,” replied his grandson, Thomas, defensively, “I don’t even like the band but she said she’d been banned from their website.” The two men, young and old, turned to look at their respective grandmother and wife.

“Josie, how did you get banned from a pop band’s website?” Grandfather Jack sounded not surprised but resigned.

“They’re not a pop band, dear,” she smiled back at him. “Techno-goth revision. It’s an important distinction. I just asked them to say hello to Cyrus for me and they got all funny about it. Locked me out of the site and had me ignored on social media in under half an hour. I’m hurt, because I thought Cyrus and I are friends, but I am impressed by their webmaster’s speed of response.”

“Who’s Cyrus?” Thomas looked confusedly between his grandparents.

“An old friend of ours,” his grandfather told him. “A techno poet. He’s been dead for forty years.”

“I told you he wasn’t dead,” Grandma Josie said dismissively. “Just underground. He wrote those words, sure as eggs are eggs, and morris-pikes were invented only three years ago.”

“Um,” Thomas said. “This guy’s been hiding out for forty years for some reason?” His grandparents looked at him and his grandmother nodded. “Are you entirely sure that it was a good idea to reach out to him in a public forum?” He looked at their expressions. “I mean why was he hiding out in the first place?”

“Oh, dear.” His grandmother began to look worried.

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I wrote this to the 16-Minute Saturday prompt at Alder's Grove.

Sinead was smoking, which was a bad sign if you knew her.  Her knuckles were bloody plus it looked like she might be developing a bruise right across her forehead and that meant she’d nutted more than one person.  She was perched on the railing outside the entrance to the bar, ignoring the clean-up crew of cops and paramedics who were finishing their jobs here before going on to the night’s next crisis.  I’d seen the results of my sister’s fights before and she wasn’t in handcuffs now, so I figured that there was probably some good news in this.

She saw us coming across the road, dropped her cheroot butt on the sidewalk then jumped down from the railing to stub it out.  When we got within conversation distance, she spoke first.  “Tiffany, Dan, thanks for coming.  I’m fine but the owner,” she jerked a thumb back at the bar, “doesn’t want me wandering off on my own.  He seems to think I might find trouble to get into.”

“Can you blame him?”  As I asked that I looked around at the emergency personnel and vehicles.  “What happened?”

“Oh, I walked in on a robbery.”  Sinead tossed it off like it was nothing.  “And I did something about it.”

“What were you even doing out here at this time of night?”  Dan, my husband, is a dear but he hasn’t known Sinead as long as I have, of course.

“I wanted company,” Sinead cracked her knuckles and I knew that as code for, I was looking for a fight.  “I didn’t want to bother you two.  I know Tiffany keeps the anniversary her way, well this is mine.”

“At least this time,” Dan observed, “you seem to have done a good deed.”

“Yeah, that,” she agreed, then a funny look crossed her face.  “I think I got a date for tomorrow night out of it too.”

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I wrote this to Alder's Grove's 16-Minute Saturday prompt for 2 February 2013.

“Is it meant to be like that or has it had an accident?” asked Perry.

“Does it move?” asked Ray.

All of them were looking at the pile of building in front of them.

“It’s supposed to be a house, silly.”  That was Charene, younger than the others.

“That might not be smoke from a fireplace, it could be smoke from an engine,” pointed out Ray.

“But wouldn’t something that moves on purpose be more…intact?”  Bribie’s curiosity was probably the strongest.  “Besides, if it moves it could be a house that belongs to a witch, like Baba Yaga.”

“It can’t be Baba Yaga,” retorted Charlene, “it doesn’t have legs or feet.”

“We could find a door and knock,” suggested Perry.

“And run away if it’s a witch,” agreed Charlene.

I felt it was time to intervene and I stepped out of the shadows behind them.  “If it was a witch’s house,” I said firmly, “You’d be scooped up and in her oven by now, you’ve been hanging around so long.”

They turned around in shock.

“Fortunately, I ‘m not a witch.  Now run along home!”  The children took my advice and fled.  I turned my attention back to the ramshackle, rolled up house.

After all, I had to figure out how to get rid of the witch inside it.

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