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  1. The sky stopped looking like numbers when she slipped into the casino. Buying in for 2oo at the craps table. Some times she didn’t even notice after she flipped that things started to slow down and take shape. They say you flip so many times and you forget what’s real, You forget who made the reality you’re in. The risk was worth it to see how far reality could stretch. A blue creature with long thin fingers passed her the dice. She blue on them and rolled. Snake eyes. But she didn’t mind. She didn’t even know where the money came from it was just in her pocket. She told herself she could flip all she wanted. If she didn’t flip into her own dreamworld she could always come back. If she even by accident should end up there, anything could happen, her mind mind fed back on itself. It could be impossible to leave. When you flipped through the multiverses you had to pay attention to the abstract, a ludicrous irony when you just gamble your last dollar at an interstellar casino losing to a table full of aliens. She kept her fingers crossed that she could realize the abstractions of her own dream logic. That she would lay down and rest when she got there.

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  2. Like Peanut butter falling into chocolate the ingredients in the beaker were supposed to clash, repel each other, not glom on to each other like a newborn kitten and it’s mama. This time it was more unexpected cause one was inedible and supposedly deadly. I tasted otherworldly and sure as shit, what I could hardly fathom is why my tongue wanted more of this…..It was a new sensation, a new dimension like not just an inflated taste buds, like they had become more porous and expanded their depths of tasting/ It lent itself to a visual treat too, it was like tasting with eyes . It was never intended to happen that someone had left a trace of Mercury in the bottom of the beaker. I cannot imagine how I can explain putting the beaker to my lips in the first place, it just happened that I felt pushed to put it to my lips. My actions aside, Mercury was supposed to be this killer substance, and someone left it in the beaker. So what was paired with a toxic element was a creamy foreign substance, it looked like chocolate, smelled like chocolate, but electrified the juices in the mouth like a thermal rainbow of electricity. This new menu” test kitchen” ingredient took cooking into science where it never belonged and produced restaurant food more addictive than nicotine. This discovery was going to change the restaurant industry, like Elvis changed Rock n Roll.

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    1. ah! no! great take on sci-fi. i wonder if this will is the beginning of a dreadful or heartwarming story. it’s so interesting that it could go either way.

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  3. Suddenly a voice came searing through the sky, ripping the two of them from both time and space. CLAP. “Go to the place we never speak of!” he screams out in desperation. “Obviously!” He hears the faint whispers of the fading sentiment.

    It wasn’t all that long ago, according to him, when the pair had met each other while walking aimlessly through a tuft of the most luscious green grass that happily capped off the rim of the now-dormant Mt Eden. They recognized each other immediately despite the object of his male affection now inhabiting a female body.

    She sauntered over to him and smiled, “You’re right on time, as usual.” He smiles, “How’s that lady body?” She contemplates this for the first time, “Hmmm, haven’t really had to address it quite yet.” He shrugs. “Where the hell are we anyway?” “When?, don’t you mean?” she asks. “Ugh, dammit, yes. When the hell are we?”

    (sci-fi)
    TK Camas

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  4. It was all too perfect, too expertly crafted. No! It was a marvel of orchestral precision and harmony: A single, brilliant, evil idea, planted in the proper, uneducated host (but pregnant with the most potent of potentials) and passed on organically from particular peer to particular peer in just the right, phenomenally calculated sequence of interactions. It was the greatest hoax and practical joke of all time, and all of her worthless, fake friends were in on it for some reason.

    This was it. This was the end of her career.

    She’d given up everything for this (everything down to her last few credits, along with basically every waking hour for the past 12 years) and she had almost single-handedly redirected the course of civil rights for lower class automatons while simultaneously introducing bipartisan human support for new basic well-being and anti-enslavement/anti-brutality legislation for all non-human terrestrians.

    Knock-knock-knock!

    “Dr. Tyka? I just have a few question. Could I just ask you through the door? Are you alone in there?”

    She had changed so much. She had made life so much better for so many. Was it all a house of cards? Maybe she would just kill herself…

    “Doctor? We have reason to believe you are with a guest. Can you hear me?”

    Everything she thought she stood for, all of it, all together, rolled up into one big… well… or maybe it’s stuffed down into some small… no… … well, the metaphor is irrelevant. A single moment of weakness and everything in her life now boiled down to this standoff: the rabid, ravenous press corps outside vs. her and a pair of brand new, off-market, indenture-bonded, synthetic, erotic male companions lounging with each other on the bed, beckoning her to return to them and absolutely slathered with evidence of her DNA.

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    1. I am truly at a loss for words. This was so captivating from your diction to the moment we find out just what kind of trouble she’s in. Thank you for sharing.

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    2. Seriously Interesting. Very erotic …and absolutely slathered with evidence of her DNA, love, love, love your choice of slathered.

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      1. It kinda feels like there’s a lot more to this world that’s slathered in one thing or another than meets the eye.

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  5. Was it all just an accident? Everyone knew that accidents weren’t real. That’s how Stella was raised and she proved it time and again.

    Obviously it was just a dream. Still, Stella couldn’t quite allow herself to believe it. The trip from Seattle to Bremerton and back home was effortless. 120 miles and not a single traffic jam. Route 99 aka Aurora Avenue was shut down while machines mawed the old viaduct like a crocodile munching a mule deer’s bones. 90000 commuters stuck on 1 highway with no guarantee things would improve, even after the tunnel opened.

    But surely she wasn’t dreaming. The media,those hocus-pocus magicians, predicted Traffic Armageddon with the teardown. Heck, some prognosticators were saying you shouldn’t even bother to go into work, traffic was/is nuts, and if you actually dared to venture out on I-5,well you may as well just stop the ole Prius, set up base camp and start barbecuing because, honey, you weren’t going anywhere.

    It was like the time over the weekend when President Trump decided The Wall was a terrible idea, and the government was restarted with wage bonuses for all those furloughed. Then, and Stella knew at that point it had to have been the orange Kale she ate that she actually got on sale at Met Market, the president apologized on national news to all sorts of marginalized people, including, snicker, snicker, leer, leer, women and Blacks.

    No, this was no accident, Stella decided, tears of gratitude spilling into her Space Grey IPad Mini as she shared the news with her 618 Facebook pals. Good prevailed. It had to.

    “What!?”Stella pushed away the black hairy face panting in her ear. “It’s too early! Now go lie down. Down! Now!!”

    Then bracing herself for the long day ahead, Stella turned off her phone and went back to sleep.

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    1. This is a great adaptation of real life in fiction. Daily life has been captured very nicely in this one. I feel as though I’m missing the Sci-Fi aspect of it, though.

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  6. Captain Bruxton was dumbfounded and horrified. He was as perplexed as he’d ever been in his life and he had nothing to say. As if life in the tunnel wasn’t eerie enough. Now this. His Sargent had caught up with him now and was just staring at everything, unconsciously shaking his head back and fourth. Do you think, Captain, I mean, uh, was it all just an accident?

    The Captain looked his young Sargent up and down, noticed the dirt on his face and the way it seemed darker around his eyes and mouth. His eyes were still light blue but none of the girls that usually flocked around him were going to think of them as “sparkly”. The rest of the guys on the base didn’t see why he got so much attention and had nicknamed him, Little sparkle eye. Which was fine, he was short, but he was also very good natured which allowed them to have their fun with his nickname.

    He looked away from his Sargeant at the pile of body parts again. Today he felt so old. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew it was because of the tunnel and tomorrow the work of investigation would begin.

    He looked back at his Sargeant again, spit in the dirt and said,”Of course it wasn’t a fucking accident.”, turned and walked back to the underground entrance.

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  7. “Oh, sweetheart. I thought my mother was a hippie once too. It is and will always be your decision. Surgery or no surgery, you are the light of my life, little bug. I will say, that as painful as it can be sometimes, your womanhood is an experience that grounds you in this world of distance and detachment. There is not a day that I regret it, despite the fact that the decision was made for me. We were and are a highly unusual family. Let me tell you a story…”

    “It was March 26th, 3761. I will never forget the day. I was twelve years and five days old.

    Mx. Davis was reading a lengthy work by the renowned poet, Xanderfeld, aloud from the hologram projected by the ecliptotron. I wouldn’t have any clue how to work the devices you kiddies have today. I sat in my assigned heart monitor, which schools had only decades prior installed after the obesity epidemic. I was absolutely enthralled, being a passionate devotee of the arts. Mx. Davis recited the infamous lines:

    ‘Of what earth am I?
    To be both alien and natural
    Fixed center in universe
    and nothing at all?’

    Suddenly, I felt a wetness between my thighs and, to my horror, I looked down to see my brand new, white linen uniform was staining crimson at my crotch. It took more than a moment for me to understand what was happening to me. I was completely horrified. A wave of panic coursed from my chest, through my arms, and right down to my fingertips.

    I had read of menstruation in our historical human biology texts, but I never could’ve imagined what it might be like. It almost seemed… how can I say it, anthropomorphic for a female of our time to bleed as I did. Immediately I thought ‘How can this be? What is wrong with me? Am I dying? I must’ve had the surgery. All girls have the surgery. It must be some kind of mistake. An accident. I know my mother is odd but… Was it… all just an accident?’”

    “It was not.”

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      1. Thank you! Yeah, I definitely write about the experiences of being a woman quite frequently.

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    1. Oh really?! I also teach. In fact, that’s why I moved up to Seattle this year from Portland. What grade do you teach? I’m assuming you teach English…?

      I actually had like 5 girls complaining of cramps the day I wrote this which I think had something to do with why I chose the topic. hah

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