Wishing for the Shadow of a Perfect Cube
The noise of the gunships- whack-whack of rotors and crackety-crack of automatic weapons fire- has moved on for the moment to another part of the wrecked and smoldering city. Resistance is futile. We would welcome the Borg and the pleasures of certainty and assimilation. There is new smoke far-off and the specks of the matte-black ships hum a faint version of the death song they made for days in this neighborhood. Neighborhood- such a quaint and queer old word. Words darken with smut and irony over time.
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Author's Note
Another variation for Fear the Future, a collection in progress.
Other stories by Gary Hardaway
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Can you play with the margins to make the format more square? *
Good.idea! Thanks.
*
Thank you, Amanda.
Good descriptions-
"new smoke far-off and the specks of the matte-black ships hum a faint version of the death song"
Enjoyed this piece.
Thank you, Sam.
"I have seen the future, it is murder." Leonard Cohen.
*
Thank you, Gary.
This grim future is already real for way too many people. *
Great work *
Thank you, Matt.
Thank you, John.
**
Thank you, Rachna.
Yeah. What Mathew said. Syria comes to mind.*
Thank you, Tim.
Nice closing.
Thank you David.