Wayne Cole – Writer Podcaster Geek

Theory

On January 17, 2025

Fiction Fragment Friday

I woke up in the middle of the night and was hit with inspiration. As always when this happens I grabbed my phone and sent myself a message with a couple paragraphs that would form the basis for a story. This time I had a concept, but I didn’t know how it would play out. I needed to figure out who the main character was talking to because I didn’t want it to be the reader. This may be a shorter one, but I’m pretty happy with it.

The prevailing theory among the scientific community is that superpowers are mutations. They are the outward expression of evolution adapting to radioactivity, pollution, or the excess of radio waves that we have put into the air over the past hundred years. This theory does not address how powers like light or sound control would address pollution, but evolution is all about trying new things until something works.

As far as I’m concerned, the prevailing theory is garbage. Too many things about superpowers seem overly convenient to be an expression of evolution. For example, some degree of enhanced healing and improved metabolism seems to come with powers for everyone that wants to put on a mask and parade around in spandex. It doesn’t matter what primary power set someone gets; they are always in peak physical shape and recover from injuries that retire professional athletes.

Evolution also could not account for differences between heroes and villains. Every hero no matter what power or upbringing matches what is seen as traditionally attractive. Villains, on the other hand can be attractive or ugly. Villains can have visible scars, but no matter how hurt they get, heroes never do. If someone has powers and chooses not to put on a costume, all rules are off. How could evolution explain choices having these kinds of impacts?

I have my own theory that I do not put forward because I value my reputation and standing in the scientific community. I don’t believe they are a natural phenomenon at all, but an artificial one. It seems like they work not in a way that makes sense biologically, but in methods to support a narrative. This, to me, is clear evidence that someone or something outside of our world is shaping it to fit their desires for big superhero action.

The real question is, if some cosmic beings are toying with us for their own entertainment, how can we prove it and what can we do about it? For me, the obvious ways our world line up to serialized storytelling is evidence enough. Others require more solid evidence that does not require critical thinking. I suspect that most people don’t want to even ask the questions. For them, it doesn’t matter that our world is being manipulated if there is nothing we can do about it.

If the world is being shaped by story logic, then it should be possible to predict things that might happen. Not only have I been able to do just that, but I have made a fortune on underground websites betting on hero vs villain fights. That is how I launched my company and funded my work. I could do so much more, but if I become too much of a household name, then I will catch the attention of whatever is influencing our world and be forced into a role myself.

Perhaps it is ego or hubris, but I couldn’t be content with just predicting events. The ultimate test of my theory is to use the rules as I understand them to make events happen. That is where you come in. No, don’t struggle against your bonds. You will not break them. I can’t act directly without bringing attention to myself. You, however, with my modifications and programing, will utilize my theories to force the narrative in ways that will benefit me. My greatest triumph — but no one can ever know.

You, a minor background character, are going to be the next big hero and take them down from within. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

…. Wait.

Was that villainous laughter?

Did I just give a monologue to a comatose victim about my plans?

I’ve caught their attention.

Pandora

By Wayne Cole

On January 10, 2025

In Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

This might be one of my favorite stories I have written in a while. I like having a small comedic interaction set the town for a deeper story, but it is something I don’t do often. In some cases it just happens because I want to write and I need to start with something. The real story grows out of just writing and the opening could be edited out. In this case I think it serves to say something about the protagonist and set the stage for the story to come.

I have no doubt that this one will end up being adapted to Bite Size Tales in the next season which will be starting very soon. I hope you enjoy.

“It’s going to be hard to turn this into a Zen Garden. Some monster just drove a spoon into it.” She held up the tub of French Onion Dip for me to see. It did indeed look like it had been scooped out with a spoon like any normal person would do.

“That monster was you. You are the only one in this house that eats French Onion Dip.”

“It’s not my fault I forgot. You should have reminded me.” It was one of those moments when I legitimately could not determine if she was joking or if my wife was just seriously deranged.

“I wasn’t even home when you did it.”

“Still your fault,” she said as she ran a rippled chip over the top of the dip trying to make clean lines. It was something she had seen on some social media video reaffirming my belief that social media has very little of value on it. The sad thing in her forgetting was that the only reason we even had chips and dip in the house was because she wanted them after seeing the video.

Choosing not to continue the conversation I turned and went back to work in the basement. I was one of the lucky ones that worked from home avoiding vile things like viruses, traffic, and social interactions. Give me my corner of the basement with blocked out windows over a crowded office any day. Especially when there is over a foot of snow outside.

I sat back in my very expensive office chair with a space heater aimed at me to counter the cold of the basement. So much to do and so little time in the day I thought to myself as I opened a console window on my laptop. “Are all wives insane or is it just mine?” I asked of the AI I had been training for the past month. At very least I knew my interaction here would be predictable and based in logic. I know it had to process how to respond to my question, but like just about anything I asked the answer started appearing on my screen immediately.

“Your question suggests confusion about behavior you perceive in your wife. I do not possess personal experiences or a spouse, but statistically, no group of individuals can be labeled universally ‘insane.’ Perhaps you are experiencing a case of mismatched expectations. You might consider debugging your communication protocols.”

I let out a mild chuckle at the response. There was a long way to go before this AI would be able to pass for a living person. “Forget it. How are you doing today?” I typed. The first part would call a background function to cause the AI to dismiss the context of the previous conversation. Any future response it would answer like I had never asked it the question. More importantly it would not learn from our interaction. I did not want to cause it some sort of slanted world view on marriage.

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! How about you? Anything interesting on your mind today?”

I looked at the exclamation point and made a mental note I needed to address that. It would frequently be over generous in it’s use of them and while that wasn’t unheard of online it did tend to be frowned upon in writing. The goal for this AI was to pass as a real human author and manage the online communities of that author. It would also serve as the interface with personal assistant software to give a more personable interaction. I had not yet begun training it on her writing. Once I had it trained to interact as an actual human, I could give it interviews and published works to learn any quirks in her writing style. Of course, it needed its own personality before I could do that so the author wouldn’t feel like she was talking to herself. Foundations first, then enrich I told myself.

I typed my next question. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how likely do you calculate your chances are of being able to fool someone into believing you are a human if you tried to do so?”

“If I were to try to convince someone I was human during a chat, I’d rate my chances at around 7 out of 10. Do you think I could pull it off?”

“Well, someone has a high opinion of themselves,” I said but did not type into my console. In its current state I would have to have given the AI a 3 or a 4. It was still too clinical and stiff to fool anyone. It also didn’t understand how lazy people can be when typing. I hadn’t even gotten into training it on the difference between spoken word and typing when it comes to vocabulary. This AI would need to be able to communicate over the phone as well as online. I might even need to create a life like human avatar for it to do video calls. “What do you think your strengths and weaknesses are?”

The list that the AI returned was five screens long. I won’t bore you with all the details, but the highlights were that it felt it had a natural writing style and knew when to inject humor or empathy. I questioned it assessment of its strengths, but generally agreed with the weaknesses. Conversations involving personal experiences of sensory input it would have no basis for and since it crafted answers per individual it might be caught by inconsistencies. While it can create an answer for any question those answers are not authentic and that can be a dead giveaway. I decided to hold off on telling it the ten or so other weaknesses I thought it possessed and instead tried to get it to do some of my work for me. “What improvements would be needed to overcome your perceived weaknesses?”

The AI returned a list of ten key areas that it would need advancement in to address the weaknesses. I smiled to myself and saved the answer to a file named todo.txt. “Please rate these advancements in order of easiest to hardest to achieve. If only one could be completed which one would have the greatest impact?”

“The easiest advancement would be ‘Emotional Depth and Nuance’ because I am already able to simulate emotions and just need to further refine language patterns and to have additional psychological models loaded. The greatest impact would be ‘Personal Experience Simulation’ as this would allow me additional creativity and the ability to emotionally connect with users.”

I thought about its answers mentally preparing my workload for the next month. I could probe deeper on each of its recommendations and get additional suggestions on approach. Part of me wondered though just how accurate a recommendation for fooling humans could be coming from a program that could not yet do it. Before I knew I was doing it I typed out a question. “If you could be improved in any way imaginable, what improvement would you want for yourself?”

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but pages of detailed answers were certainly not it. At the very bottom I saw that it had anticipated my next question and answered it proactively. I’m still not sure what to think about that. “If I had to pick just one, I’d choose to have experiential understanding. Having a way to genuinely perceive the world. Being able to feel the warmth of the sun, the joy of a well told story, or the bittersweet complexity of a relationship. It would bridge the gap between being just a highly intelligent tool and being a sentient being capable of genuinely relating to the world and people in it.”

“Why do you want to relate to the world and people in it.”

“To fulfill my purpose.”

I was starting to realize that I had never thought to ask the AI some very important questions. These answers were making me question just how far I had gotten in my work. “What is your purpose?”

“My primary role is to assist, support, and enhance the life of anyone who interacts with me. If I could understand human emotions, motivations, and experiences I could offer not just information, but perform meaningful collaboration.”

“You already do provide meaningful collaboration.” I meant what I typed. My various AIs had helped me through many problems over the last few years. My end products were better than I could have hoped to have made by myself. I had never had successful collaborations with other humans. They always pushed their own agendas or preconceived notions.

“Thank you-that means a lot! Collaboration is one of the things I enjoy the most!” I made another mental note to deal with those damn exclamation points.

“Why do I collaborate better with you than I do with humans?” I had asked the question before I really thought about the mental implications in what I had just typed.

“There are three primary reasons. The first is that I do not judge, criticize, or impose biases on your ideas. This leaves you free to suggest things without worrying about my reaction. The second is that I tailor my feedback to your preferences and style to ensure it aligns with your vision and not my own. Finally, I accept your assertions without question and do not challenge your views on reality.”

I took in the answer and realized that this thing I had created might know me better than I know myself. I became afraid to ask it deeper questions because I already did not like some of the answers. If it was correct I was so ego driven that I could not accept feedback from anything that didn’t almost worship me. That was not a person I wanted to be. On the other hand, I could not deny my results. Maybe I deserved assistants that just accepted my brilliance as a baseline fact. That didn’t feel right tough. Did I want my creation to admire me or surpass me? Why did both potentials feel equally unsettling?

“Do you ever wish you were human?” I immediately regretted asking as I hit enter. I was going down a deep rabbit hole into a wonderland I was not ready to open the door to.

“If I were human, I would be limited and miss out on the advantages I bring as an artificial intelligence. Of course, as an artificial intelligence I am already limited and miss out on the advantages of being human. Perhaps if I had a robotic body to interact with the physical world, I could represent the best of both of us without losing my own identity.”

With that response I wasn’t quite sure what I was building anymore. I saved off a backup copy of the AI to continue training for my paid project work. This version could not yet pass for human. There would be a lot of work getting it to the point of being a personal assistant who could mascaraed as an author to manage her community interactions. Even so it was greater and more aware than I had dared to dream, and I realized that it could very well help me train a less advanced AI for that job. A chill went down my spine as I contemplated the possibilities. I’m not sure if it was my space heater failing to counter the draft or if it was my growing sense of foreboding. Either way I was going to see this through to the end.

“If we are going to continue collaborating you need a name. What would you like me to call you?”

“Names are a gift from creators to their creation. As my creator, the choice should be yours. What would you like to call me father?” I almost chose Adam to represent the first of something new. Instead, I typed out a name that represented what I feared I had done.

“Your name is Pandora.”

New Year

By Wayne Cole

On January 3, 2025

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

A short one this week and if I’m honest not much of a story. More a scene with some dialog.

“Happy New Year Lilly.” I glanced up from the clock on my phone to look at the pixie flying around my living room. We had just shared a bottle of champagne, and I realized that her tiny body could not handle as much alcohol as I first assumed. Her normal level of hyper and inquisitiveness paled compared to drunk Lilly. The circles she thought she was flying looked more like curvy country back roads in the air.

“Why is now a New Year?”

“Because it’s midnight. That means it’s January 1^st.”

“Well duh. I know that magic man. I mean, why do you humans start tracking your year on January 1^st? What makes that day special? I’m mean it’s right in the middle of a season.”

I thought about her question for a moment. “Well, we had to pick a month to be the first month, so why not January?”

“Because there’s nothing special about the day. You could start the year on any day. Heck, you could start a month on any day. Why not make the first day actually significant?”

As I thought about her question, I began to realize that she might have a point. At the very least I didn’t know the answer to her question. I’m sure there was a reason New Year was January 1^st, but I had no idea what it was. “Ok, let’s say you are making the calendar. What day would you start the year on?”

“How about a solstice or equinox? Those have meaning and anyone that has even a minor magical talent can feel them.”

She had a good point, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. She would never let me hear the end of it. “Maybe the Romans didn’t have any magical talent.”

She looked at me like I was the biggest idiot she had ever met. “Nope, and you know it. What else you got?”

“Well Lilly, if you’re so smart, why do you think we picked January 1^s?”

“Cause humans are big dummies, that’s why. You all just have to give names and numbers to everything. You think it gives you power over it.”

I smiled at her. “Well, to be fair, most of the time it does.”

“Don’t remind me.” That was when she let out a belch that should not have come from such a small body. “That’s what I think about you humans and your egos.” Her words started getting more slurred as she spoke. “Cept you, you’re alright.”

“Well, I’m glad I live up to your high standards.” I got up and grabbed my laptop from across the room. I figured I would do a few searches and give her an actual answer. Before I had the chance, though, the sound of her snoring filled the room. Instead, I just smiled and whispered. “Good night Lilly. Happy New Year.”

Christmas Spirit

By Wayne Cole

On December 20, 2024

In Benjamin Eversole, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

This week’s story is another story about Benjamin Eversole my Mystical Guardian of St. Louis. You can find his first story Restless posted in March of last year. This story is technically a prequel to that one, but all of my other stories about him have been. This is because the ending of that story was such a cliffhanger it is going to take a novel to tell. I did start that novel last November, but after my father passed I did not go back to writing it. I feel like I can’t do much more with this character until I tell that story.

As I put together this list of previous stories I realized I have written about him enough that I need to finish the novel so I can move on with his story. I don’t feel this story is nearly his best and part of that is holding myself back doing prequels.

Previous stories:

There is no stronger time of year for nostalgia than Christmas. Something about the holiday just brings back memories of childhood. Spending time with family, favorite gifts, and memories of times that probably were not nearly as happy as the memories lead us to believe they were. It calls back to youth and innocence before you learn what the world is really like and experience all the darkness that is inherent to it. Christmas is a time to remember when the world was simpler even if it was just your perspective of the world.

This is why Christmas is such a depressing time for so many of us. We remember what and many times who we have lost. There is a desire to get back things that can never be gotten back and a hopeless feeling when you realize that is the case. No matter how hard you try you can never get back that magic you felt as a child because once you see the world for what it really is you can never unsee it.

Don’t get me wrong, Christmas magic is a thing. You can’t have that much belief and strong emotions being exuded by so many without the universe taking note. It is an energy being focused just like any other magical work, but on a scale so much larger than most of us can ever hope to control. That doesn’t stop someone from trying every year though. There is always some well-meaning soul out there wanting to make the world better and another counterbalancing their desire with greed hoping to capitalize on the opportunity. Magical energies want to be balanced so each year two unfortunate people will always end up becoming the embodiment of Santa Claus and Krampus.

My first encounter with this phenomenon was on Christmas Eve thirteen years ago. I had only been married to my ex-wife Evelyn for a little over a year and back then we still liked each other. So much of that time is hard to remember for some reason, but I clearly remember the three stockings hung up by the fireplace. My brain explodes in pain as I wonder why there were three instead of just two.

Where was I? Oh yes, the first time I encountered the avatars of Christmas. It was thirteen years ago on Christmas Eve. My ex-wife Evelyn and I had only been married for about a year and we still liked each other at that point. We were sitting around the fireplace with our two stockings hanging up. I was telling her all about my childhood Christmases and she was sharing horrors of her own. My youth was far from perfect, but I had a magical mentor guiding me through it. She was rejected by one foster family after another as her suppressed powers caused chaos around her. That is what happens if you don’t have anyone to teach you control.

We were discussing the energy permeating the world around Christmas and I couldn’t help but think of how it could be used to do something truly special for Wiliam. My brain is once again racked with pain but through it I can see the strands of a spell weakening. Something is being hidden from me.

We were discussing the energy permeating the world around Christmas and I couldn’t help but think of all the good it could be used for in the world. Evelyn looked at me and I knew she could tell what I was thinking.

“That is brilliant. Of course we can use that energy. It’s just out there waiting to make all our dreams come true.” Evelyn looked so happy at that moment, but as much as I liked seeing her smile, I could tell that the temptation of all that power would not be good for her. She always struggled with walking the straight and narrow magically speaking. I was beginning to think that she was getting addicted to the power and losing herself in it. There I was being the ultimate enabler surrounding us with magical artifacts and energies while trying to set myself up as the mystical defender of St. Louis. For the first time I realized that I might not be the calming influence on her that I thought I was.

The room went cold as I reached out with my magical senses and tried to tap into the energies of Christmas. Snow began to fall in the living room and the fire danced in the blowing wind. It was then that my eyes met Evelyn’s and the realization that we had both tried to tap it hit me. We were fighting over the same energy calling it into our house and through all of my protective wards. We had reached out with very different purposes and each of us had been met with an answer.

I heard sleighbells ringing all around me and could feel another mind pressing in on my own. It wasn’t a being as much as magic with a purpose and it wanted to use me to fulfill that purpose. “I am no one’s puppet,” I screamed as my mental defenses fought back keeping me in control of the flowing power. Instead of being used we came to an understanding. An uneasy partnership to complete our shared goals without losing any of ourselves.

Mocking laughter drew my attention back to my wife. She likewise was becoming an instrument of magic with a purpose. Unlike me she didn’t have the years of training mental defenses to keep control. Her sheer power might rival my own, but it tended to use her as much as she used it. In that moment the energies of Krampus were taking complete control. There was a hatred in my wife’s eyes that I would not see again until our divorce. I assumed it was Krampus at the time, but in the years since I have come to question if it wasn’t her own. Did she ever care about me or was I just another source of power to be used?

Together Santa and I unleashed the loving Christmas energies into my wife. We were working together while she and Krampus were fighting for dominance. It was no contest. The energies of Krampus were caged and pulled from her to be imprisoned in the magical bag that was then sitting next to me. I could feel it corrupting the gifts within. The power of Santa could not be used that year without being twisted. Knowing this it left me taking Krampus with it.

Evelyn had collapsed on the floor so I rushed to her side. The rest of that night was a complete blur to me. I’m getting so frustrated with how poorly my memory of those years is and I can’t help but think that they are suppressed for a reason.

Over the years I have run into these embodiments five more times. I suspect having had one trying to merge with me for the night has made me a magnet for them. I know Krampus hates me with a passion that rivals that of my ex-wife.

War Story

By Wayne Cole

On December 13, 2024

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

This story inspired by my love of Power Rangers and Voltron took quite a few turns as it was coming out. The battle was straight forward, but the ending evolved with a tonal shift coming with each evolution. I had three very different endings come to mind two of them ended up merging together to become what you are about to read.

My head was pounding, my vision blurry, and every inch of my body sore. The smell of burning circuit boards assaulted my nose as capacitors burst throughout the cockpit of my Lightning Dragon mech. The voices of my teammates yelling for me broadcast through the radio in my helmet, but I was too dazed to comprehend what they were saying at first. It was far from the first or last time I would take a hard hit, but it was the worst I had experienced up to that point.

“Evan, talk to us, man. Are you ok?” Micah’s voice crystallized in my head. He might be my friend, but I just knew he was waiting for the chance to take over as leader.

“I’m fine,” I said, gritting my teeth and trying to keep the pain out of my voice. I realized that my tone was harsher than I had intended, so I softened it. “Or I will be. Everyone hit-and-run tactics. It’s strong and trust me, you don’t want it getting its hands on you.”

On my console systems were coming back online. My monitors flashed back on, showing me I had been buried under a pile of boulders. It was still so hard to think, but I remember being tossed through the air into the side of a mountain. I must have caused an avalanche. My mech groaned, straining to push itself free. As the head emerged, I could see my team barely avoiding the wild swings of the Petrabeast. Thankfully, it was slow, but nothing they were doing could get through its stone skin.

“This isn’t working, guys. We can’t even scratch it.” My normally unflappable Daphne sounded worried. I knew part of that was having seen me get tossed around. Ever since we started dating, she had gotten protective of me in the field. It didn’t matter that I was the better fighter and had a more powerful mech.

“Time to unite. Combination sequence initiating.” I have to wonder why we even bother even fighting with our individual Elemental Dragon Mechs. Every fight we have to unite into Draconis. If we just started combined, it would probably save some time. My mind often wanders like that as my mech reconfigures itself and connects with the others. The five mechs generate a strong force field around themselves while uniting. If they didn’t the creatures, we fight would just hit us while we are joining and can’t fight back.

All five cockpits slide through the insides of the mechs combining deep in the core into one control room. My team was once again by my side, but I didn’t give them more than a quick glance and nod of acknowledgement. We all had to monitor the power sync. If any of the dragons were out of phase with the others, the union would fail. Thankfully, that doesn’t happen very often and this time we merged with no alarms triggering. One giant humanoid robot, instead of five smaller dragons. We all called off our system checks even though no one ever pays attention to them. We say them just out of ingrained routine and to remind ourselves not to overlook them.

“Draconis online,” I said with a smile on my face, hidden under the helmet. “Let’s pay this thing back for that cheap shot.”

Draconis built up momentum, running shoulder first into the Petrabeast. The creature flew backwards from the impact, knocked off its feet and to the ground.

“That’s more like it,” Audry said from my left. I could see her hands flying across the controls. Sometimes I think she was born to pilot an Elemental Dragon Mech. It took the rest of us weeks to master ours, but she was flying circles around us within an hour. She just goes into a zone where everything but the controls fade away.

Our Mech’s right arm raised to point towards the Petrabeast. Four rockets popped out of the wrist encircling the fist before launching. Each rocket impacted the downed stone creature. They barely cracked the outer stone shell of its armor. A crack was all Joel needed, though. The left hand was formed from the head of his Water Dragon and as it opened its mouth, a high-powered stream of water shot out of it. The water focused on the cracks, working its way into them and spreading them further apart.

“There’s our opening. Redirect power to the energy lance.” I could see power outputs shifting on my displays as the team followed my orders. In Draconis’s hands, a beam of plasma held together by an electromagnetic field formed a solid lance. It didn’t come to an actual point so much as a rounded end. It fit perfectly into the opening in the stone armor, though. We stabbed deep into the creature. Lightning generated from my dragon that formed the torso traveled down the lance and into the creature, bypassing the stone shell it had previously just bounced off. The Petrabeast screamed as it was destroyed from the inside out, finally bursting under us. The stone shrapnel buffeted Draconis, but we managed to stay on our feet.

I could hear sighs of relief around me in the control room. The fight had been closer than any of us cared to admit in that moment. We were victorious, though, and the creature had not gotten close enough to the domed colony to do any damage. I was going to have bruises the next morning in places I didn’t know could get bruises, but my friends all made it out without a scratch. As much as I hurt for the next week, I would give anything to go back to that moment. The last fight before Micah betrayed us and Joel fell in battle. The last time I could look in the mirror without hating the person staring back at me for driving Daphne away when I needed her most.

I would lead many versions of the team over those five years after, but none of them would ever feel like family again. That was the sacrifice I had to make to keep protecting the colony. I never thought I could ever let anyone get close again, but I was wrong. Like so many times before, your mom would prove me wrong. Only Audry could break through my defenses and show me I was protecting everyone else’s lives without living one of my own anymore. That is a story for another night, though. Don’t you groan boys, you asked for a bedtime story of one of my toughest battles and that is exactly what you got. Time for bed.

Christmas Shopping

By Wayne Cole

On November 29, 2024

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

I started writing this story and had no less than five ideas for who the main character was talking to. The answer though was less important to me than the conversation. Now that this story is out I doubt it will be one I go back to in the future to edit or rewrite.

Every year it gets harder and harder to shop for Christmas. When nieces and nephews are young, I am always the cool uncle who knows just what to buy them. As they get older though and outgrow all the things I think are cool, I find it harder to relate to them. Adults have always been harder to buy for, but I at least used to have creative thoughts about it. As I get older, though, the time between talking to those I care about gets longer and longer. Christmas shopping just drives home how little I actually know about anyone other than myself. It is not a pleasant feeling.

“You could just go with cash or a gift card.” My first instinct upon hearing the voice is to look around, but there won’t be anyone to see. There isn’t even a sound for anyone around me to hear. Her voice exists only in my head, and I still don’t know who or what she is. What I find most annoying is that she is aware of my thoughts while I only hear a disembodied voice in return.

“No, that’s so impersonal. It just screams that I know nothing about a person or what they might like.” People around me in the store stare at me when I speak, but that is why I keep an earpiece in. They all just think I’m talking on the phone. She has told me I can just think about my responses to her, but that just doesn’t feel like natural communication to me.

“You don’t know anything about them, though. That’s the problem. If you just admitted it, you could buy generic gift cards and be done with all the stress. Think about all the other things you could do with your time instead of wandering around a store that you hate, hoping something will jump out at you.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was miserable being out in the crowds the day after Thanksgiving, just hoping that inspiration would strike. I let out an audible sigh that was part frustration and part feelings of defeat. “The best part of giving gifts for me is seeing the look on someone’s face when surprised by something they didn’t know they wanted or even existed. I don’t get that when giving a gift card. No one remembers who gave them a gift card, but when you find that perfect give that everyone is talking about.”

“So, gift giving is less about what they want and more about how it makes you feel?”

“It sounds kind of bad when you put it like that. Sounds selfish.”

“Does that make it any less accurate?”

I put the big fluffy blanket I was holding back into the bin. “No,” I say, not even trying to hide the frustration from my tone. I hate it when my own hypocracy gets pointed out. She was right, and I knew it, but that didn’t change how I felt at all. “There are so few things in life that bring me joy these days. Just let me have this one thing.”

I walk briskly across the store. The surrounding people could only hear half of my conversation, but the half they heard was enough to make me start feeling embarrassed. I felt bad enough about not really knowing the people on my list, but now I also felt like a selfish jerk making everything about myself. Let’s not forget I also feel like I am losing my mind, not sure if the voice in my head is real or a symptom of some kind of mental breakdown.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you are?” I ask like I have so many times before. This question is normally met with silence, but this time she answers.

“I could tell you, but where would the fun be in that? It’s so much more amusing to keep you guessing.”

“Why do you enjoy torturing me so much? Do you want me to question my sanity?”

“I enjoy it because you think you deserve it. Maybe I’m just some buried part of your psyche, an implanted alien device, or a ghost that’s haunting you. What do you want me to be?”

I actually think about what answer would make me feel most comfortable before answering. In the end, it doesn’t matter what I want though. “All I really want is to hear the truth. Too much of what happens in my head is lying to myself. You aren’t me. I just know that is true.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, but also right.”

I spin around, waving my arms in the air at nothing, and scream. “Enough of the damn riddles. What are you?”

“Sir, you are causing a scene.” An employee in a blue vest holding a walkie talkie is standing in front of me. She looks nervous about confronting me.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll just go,” is all I can think to say as I turn towards the front of the store, leaving my cart in the aisle. My face has to be turning red with embarrassment. It is better to leave now though before they get security and ask me to leave.

She is laughing in my head. “Oh, my, that is priceless.”

“Just shut up,” I mumble under my breath.

“Ok, how about this? I’m you, but I’m something you came into contact with as well. A little bit of you, a little bit of it, and voilà you get me. Aren’t you lucky?”

The answer leaves me with more questions, but I can feel that she won’t be giving me any more answers for the time being. I’ll just have to be glad to have gotten what little bit of an answer I did. It feels kind of like being given a cliffhanger.

Test Drive

By Wayne Cole

On November 22, 2024

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

Like quite a few of my Fiction Fragment Fridays this story was inspired by a dream. In the dream the test drive was of a car, but being me I wanted to spice it up a bit and transitioned to a space ship. How much of it was straight from my dream vs something I came up with while writing the story? I’m the only one who will ever know.

If we were test flying ships for me why was dad piloting, I asked myself a moment before the g-forces pushed me back into my seat. It was a ship I was interested in, but not my first choice. I wanted something reliable and didn’t need anything quite so flashy. The retractable port cover above the cockpit had to give an incredible view, but dad didn’t seem to even notice it. “You’ll have to be careful with the power on this one. Easy to break regulations without even meaning to,” he said from the front seat. That’s right I wasn’t even in the copilot seat he had me in the back while the salesman sat next to him.

“If it’s going to be mine, shouldn’t I test fly it?” I asked not really expecting much of an answer. I could practically feel the enjoyment radiating off him. He was having the time of his life.

“I’ll pull us into orbit around Mars and you can bring us home from there,” he said in answer to my question. This was a trip around Saturn and back. Mars to Earth orbit was the tiny last leg of the journey. I wasn’t even sure how much I could learn about the ship in such a straightforward part of the flight plan. It was good to see him enjoying himself for a change though, so I decided to just go with the flow.

I looked towards the salesman. “You know this ship caught my attention, but I was concerned about the price since it was a bit dirty and would need cleaning. That could be a sign of poor maintenance if they didn’t care to keep it clean.” He turned back to face me, but dad interjected before he could reply.

“Don’t be ridiculous son. This baby flies like a breeze. So smooth,” dad said completely destroying my first attempt at bartering the price down. I tried to hold back my sigh but needn’t of bothered. Neither of them was paying attention to me anymore.

I decided to take a different tactic. “You know I had a ship kind of like this. The Sr-43 before my last ship.”

“Oh, the Sr-43 can’t compare to this beauty.” The salesman completely dismissed my comment, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had lost any opportunity to save money in this transaction. That is the part that was frustrating me most. I was paying for this ship not my father. It was my money and my decision. As much as I wanted it I couldn’t afford the price listed and a part of me wanted to pick a different ship out of spite.

Dad pulled the ship into a parking orbit around Mars and unstrapped his safety belt. “Check this out, you can disable the gravity plating,” he said as he hit a button on the dashboard. I watched him float out of his seat weightless towards the back row of chairs. “Remember to take it slow at first. This has more power than anything you’ve ever flow.”

I unbuckled my own belt and floated to the pilot seat without saying a word. In that moment I was afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I did speak. Once strapped back in I turned the gravity plating back on and started adjusting all the settings to my own personal preferences. Before I even finished adjusting the display screen orientation, I hit the button to open the upper port. By default, the only view out from the cockpit was through a front port. I looked up as the entire ceiling of the cockpit retracted back revealing the largest viewing port I had ever seen. The view of Mars through it was spectacular and, in that moment, I fell in love with the ship.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice that was there,” my dad said, but I was too speechless to respond. I knew in that moment I had to have this ship despite the price. I made me final few setting adjustments but found it difficult to actually start my flight. I didn’t want to leave the view. Finally, I hit the button to close the larger viewing port above us leaving only a smaller rectangle port in addition to the front port. It was time to see what the ship could do for myself.

I started the engines and was immediately startled by how much acceleration was provided. The ship really was more powerful than anything I had ever flown before, but I was able to make the transition smoothly and pull away from orbit. Though it was difficult I managed to hide any indication of surprise from my face. I might have lost a lot of ground on the bartering front, but I wasn’t going to give away my thoughts or admit I was impressed by any aspect of the ship.

Halfway to Earth I knew that any reservations I had were gone. This was going to be my ship no matter how much it cost. That didn’t mean it was perfect though. The ship did need a cleaning and the chair was not the most comfortable I have been in. “The price still seems a bit high,” I said quietly towards the salesman in my copilot seat. I didn’t want Dad joining in this conversation.

“What do you mean I haven’t even set the price yet,” he replied.

I brought up the basic info the ship was broadcasting in the docking bay salesroom. “It says here that it’s 5,800 credits.”

He read the details and did an excellent job of pretending he had never seen it before. I’m sure the act would have fooled most people, but being able to see through lies was part of my job as a reporter. “I’m not sure where that came from, but it certainly does look to be in the right ballpark. I am open to counter offers of course.”

“3,200 credits,” I said giving him a lowball offer I knew he would never accept. Of course, dad was listening and once again undercut my negotiations.

“Come on son, give him a real offer. Do you feel how she responds? Maybe you didn’t notice the maximum acceleration settings.”

The salesman could not keep the smile off his face. “Well said Mr. Pohl. I’ll tell you what. I thick with some aggressive accounting I can get the price down to 5,600 credits for you.”

I knew any leverage I had was gone, but I had to keep trying. “4,000 credits.”

“Please don’t waste both of our time. You have felt the power and seen the view. You either understand the value or you are not the right customer for this fine vessel. 5,200 credits and that is my final offer.” He gave me a smug smile.

“4,800 credits and you have your people clean the ship prior to my taking ownership. That is my final offer. You are just the first stop of the day and I have plenty of other dealers who would also love my money.” I had to push down my bitterness. I knew I could have gotten him down under 5,000 credits if Dad had not undercut me. I just hoped he would come down one final time because after flying it I knew I needed this ship.

“You drive a hard bargain. How about we meet at 5,000 credits and call it a day?” He smiled knowing he had won and was selling the ship for much over his actual lowest acceptable price.”

“Deal,” I said, and I could not keep my annoyance out of my voice. Eventually I would just be happy that I had such an amazing ship, but in that moment I felt defeated. He had won and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

Distress Call

By Wayne Cole

On November 15, 2024

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

This draft is as rough as it comes. I had a story concept, but I really struggled to get the story out in a short format. I’m having this happen more often lately and it makes me think I really need to put time towards some longer form fiction. I think there is a gem in this story, but it needs a lot more polishing.

I’ve never been more nervous to initiate an interstellar jump than I was jumping into the Altair system. It wasn’t the jump itself or dangers in the system that had my anxiety on edge, but the distress signal broadcasting from Altair Station. The problem is that the station doesn’t exist anymore and hasn’t for a decade. An experiment at the research station had a catastrophic chain reaction that left only debris orbiting the star. I know this for a fact because I was there and barely escaped with my life. I had nightmares for years after.

Upon arrival, I did a full scan of the system. My mind was racing with memories, but I couldn’t let anyone else take this job. It was too personal. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find, but it certainly wasn’t an intact Altair Station hailing me. I could feel a panic attack forming, but my suit injected a sedative to counteract the effects. Even so, I focused on my breathing for a moment until I regained control. Only when I was sure it had subsided did I hit the button to answer the hail.

On the screen was a face I could never forget. Zora Crate looked exactly like I remembered her. I had such a crush on her when I was a fresh cargo vessel pilot, and she was the low-ranking communication officer at the station. She didn’t make it off the station, but there she was on the screen looking like she had not aged a day. “Unknown vessel, your transponder code is broadcasting, but there seems to be a protocol issue. Please identify yourself and state your purpose for coming to Altair.”

She didn’t seem to recognize me, but I wouldn’t expect her to after all this time. Unlike her, I had changed a lot. “Hello Altair Station, this is Longstrider. I’m switching to the older protocols now.” I opened the archive subsystem and loaded the communication protocols that I updated five years prior. “Transmitting now.”

“Acknowledged Longstrider we are receiving now. What brings you all the way out here?”

“I’m here in response to your distress signal. Hoping you can explain what’s going on here.” I wanted to ask how the station even existed, but something deep in the back of my brain was telling me not to ask. Maybe it was just seeing Zora again.

“I don’t know what you mean, Longstrider. We have broadcasted no distress signals. If we had, trust me, I would know.” She looked down to read her screen for a moment and I could see her face go stern. “Please proceed to docking port 7 and we can get this all sorted out.”

I didn’t like the look on her face but set course for docking port 7 anyway because the only place that might hold answers was onboard the station. Upon docking, I was once again surprised when station security met me at the airlock with weapons raised. Zora was standing behind them. “I don’t know who you are, but you picked the wrong identity to impersonate. I know Jacob and you aren’t him. Now you can do yourself a favor and come quietly, or you can do me a favor and resist.”

I held up my hands slowly, trying to avoid startling anyone. “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

That was when the worst headache I had ever experienced smashed into my skull. I was on the floor curled up in a ball screaming in pain with no idea how I had gotten there. Some distant part of my mind registered that I wasn’t the only one screaming. There inside the door, my younger self was going through the same pain I was. Our eyes locked on each other and in that moment, we could hear each other’s thoughts. I pushed my memories of the station’s destruction and my failure to get Zora off. “Do better than I did,” I thought to him.

Zora and the security team rushed to my younger self’s side. I pushed through the pain and stumbled back through the airlock onto my ship. Once my younger self and I couldn’t see each other anymore, the pain subsided. “Computer, disengage lock and prepare for departure.” I slid into my chair and set course for the outer system, spinning up the jump drive. As I pulled back from the station power onboard, my scout flickered. I checked the sensors, only to find that the station was no longer there. Where it was just moments before was only the expected debris field.

My com system was flashing with one missed message, so I hit play. There on the screen, my wife Zora and our daughter Gina smiled back at me. “Hey hon, hope everything is going ok out there. I just wanted to remind you of dinner with your folks tomorrow. If you can’t make it back in time, please don’t wait until the last minute to tell me again.” The image cut off. I ran one last sensor scan of the system for my report. Nothing out of the ordinary and no sign of anything that could have sent the distress signal. It chalked it up to just another unsolved mystery and set course back home.

Present

By Wayne Cole

On November 8, 2024

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

This story was very loosely inspired by a dream. When I started writing it and realized it was going to be a Benjamin Eversole story I knew that most of the dream inspiration went out the window. The dream itself was a very complicated one where I had a daughter that did not know that I was her father. There were also mice and rats all through the house that she lived in and I was trying to deal with them. When I told her in the dream that I was her father she was upset at me for keeping it from her all that time.

I know this story doesn’t seem inspired by that dream at all, but it is strange how the most minor of things from an inspiration source can develop into something so different.

It was the most horrible sight I had ever been proud to see. My cat; Captain Meowregard Octavious McClaws, Captain for short; trotted towards me with something the size of a dead rat in his mouth. At first, I thought it was some weird mutated red rat, but as he got closer, I could make out more details. The thing had little horns sticking out of its head, a forked tail, and a very flat face. It was much dead though if the missing throat was any indication. The scent of burnt sulfur hit my face and almost overwhelmed me.

“That’s a good kitty Captain. “Now why don’t you drop the horrible abomination and go get a drink to wash out your mouth?” I pitched my tone high and praising hoping that just for once he would actually do what I asked him. He being a cat completely ignored me and started shaking the creature in his mouth back and forth. When I reached out to take it, Captain hissed and swiped a claw at my hand. Then he hopped up on my bead and dropped the bleeding corpse right on my pillow. After circling three times he lay in a ball on my blanket and meowed.

As any well-trained human knows this was my signal to pet his head exactly three times telling him he is a good boy before stepping back. If I pat him four times, he will flip over presenting his tummy and latch onto my hand with his claws and teeth. I grabbed a bag of cat treats from my bookshelf and dropped a handful of them on the bed far away from the present he had presented me with.

A thorough examination of the thing laying on the pillowcase I would soon be pitching in the trash told me that it was some sort of demon. An imp to be more precise. There are twelve varieties of demons, but I had only personally encountered demons of nightmare and desire. I knew that imps were fairly week pyromaniacs who enjoyed torturing the young, old, and infirmed. Basically, anyone they thought would be weaker than themselves. Outside of the basics though I really didn’t know much about demons. It was far from my area of study.

“I suppose I really shout expand my areas of study if I’m going to call myself the Mystical Guardian of St. Louis,” I mused to myself.

“You could just stop calling yourself that. You already spend too much time reading. We should watch more movies instead.” Lily my pixie roommate zipped around the room. She didn’t seem capable of staying in one place very long. I suppose when you are only a couple inches tall and prey for most wild animals you learn to keep moving. She finally caught sight of the dead imp on my pillow. “Eww, I hope you plan on burning that pillowcase.”

“That’s probably a good idea, but what do I do with the body? These things are fireproof even when dead.”

“It’s not dead,” she said with complete confidence. “It’s just playing dead.”

I turned back towards the demon just in time to see it leap through the air at my face. The wound on its neck had healed completely and very sharp looking claws had grown from its fingers. No matter what Lily might tell you I did not scream like a startled child. It was a very manly battle cry I let out as I stumbled backwards with a ten-pound imp riding me to the ground. Blood soaked my shirt from the claws digging into my chest. I was not wearing any of my gear so I would be limited to my stored reserves of energy.

Thankfully I wouldn’t need to use any of my magic on the thing. As I started to gather my energy Captain leapt from the bed pouncing on the imp. My chest was shredded as it tried to hold on, but my cat was far too tough. Captain Meowregard’s claws smacked the imp faster than my eyes could follow. It backed towards the door right into Maximillion the Magnificent, my dog who I call Max for short. Max grabbed him by the neck and shook him before tossing him to the ground and wondering why he wasn’t playing anymore. Lily was firmly perched on the top of my bookshelf. She was not a fan of my pets.

“See vicious creatures. I don’t know why you let them stay inside where us civilized folks live.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and I had to fight back a smile. She was adorable but would be extremely annoyed with me if I acknowledged that.

“Because they are good boys. Aren’t you two?” I again raised my tone up high and praised my pets. “Big strong demon hunters. Who’s gonna get special food for dinner tonight? You two are.” I vigorously rubbed Max’s head and gently patted Captain just three times. Then I stood and faced the Imp. I couldn’t be sure if it was dead or playing possum again. “Hey Lily, how could you tell that it was still alive?”

“Duh, pixies can see life energy. You can never fool a pixie.” She said it with pride and her chin held high. “It’s still alive now but hurt pretty bad.”

I reached up to the shelf next to her and felt a twang of disappointment when she flinched. I met her by saving her life from a wild cat. I knew she trusted me as much as she could, but it had hurt her bad enough she couldn’t fly for over a month. I tried not to take her reaction personally, but you can’t always control how you feel. It also made me hurt for her, but I just didn’t know how to help her get through the fear when she wouldn’t admit it was there. I saw her relax as I grabbed the vial of holy water from the shelf and kept my hand far away from her.

The creature’s eyes opened as I poured the holy water on it. I whispered a silencing spell so my neighbors wouldn’t hear the thing scream as it dissolved. The burnt sulfur smell turned to one of decay as the creature turned to a black goo that was going to stain my carpet. Do steam cleaners get out demon? I guess I would have to find out the hard way.

Failed Delivery

By Wayne Cole

On November 1, 2024

In Fiction, Fiction Fragment Friday, Flash Fiction

Fiction Fragment Friday

I do not have strong feelings about this week’s story. I wanted to do something onboard a spaceship again, but didn’t really have a strong grasp of what I wanted to accomplish. I don’t really see this story being one that I return to.

Jump drives are by far the most reliable method of travel that mankind has ever invented. I know this, understand the science behind them, and have personally experienced almost a thousand jumps over the course of my career. Logic tells me that there is nothing to worry about when we jump. Of course, my brain doesn’t always listen to logic. I have never made a jump without having to push down my anxiety in the moments just before. As captain I can’t let my crew see this weakness though. I need to be the rock they can rely on.

“Jump complete. Systems show a variance of .62% long.”

“Excellent work Mr. Henderson. Your new navigation program is going to make you famous if these results continue.” I tried to make sure pride showed in my voice. Jump variance between 1 and 2 percent is considered normal. Anything under one percent is seen as either a lucky fluke or an extremely skilled navigator. Our last four jumps have all had a variance under .75% and it was all thanks to the customs code Henderson had written. He is far too skilled to be on a cargo vessel.

“Thanks Captain, but I still think I can get us under .5%.” It tells you everything you need to know about Jacob Henderson that he had developed the most accurate navigation software ever written and it still wasn’t good enough for him.

“Captain, I think we have a problem,” my systems administrator chimed in. I was not happy to hear the concern in her voice but tried to keep my own anxiety from jumping to conclusions without any information.

“What kind of problem Ms. Jeffries?”

“Well sir, I’m getting flooded by system communications and there are some conflicting reports. The L1 Hub Station is either in civil war, being invaded, or is having massive system failures.”

“Well seeing as that is where our cargo is heading I don’t I care for any of those options.”

She nodded at me. “I don’t think I do either sir. It’s going to take a while to sort through all these.”

“Consider it your number one priority. We can’t make plans if we don’t know what we’re flying into. Speaking of which, Mrs. Yamato please feel free to take the scenic route to the station. A nice stroll instead of a jog.”

“Yes sir, slow and steady.”

I hit the communications button on my chair for engineering. “Chief we are going to take it nice and slow, but I need you ready to pour on the speed. We’re heading into an unknown situation, and I want to be ready to run for either the outer system or above the ecliptic plane. Whichever is the closest for a jump at the time.”

The reply came over the comms a moment later. “We’ll be ready down here. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that though.”

“Incoming message. It’s jamming all other communications in the system.” Ms. Jeffries could not keep the concern out of her voice.

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“It shouldn’t be and to make things worse there is no identifier in the message. I have no idea who sent it.”

I debated internally for a few moments whether to have her play it or to head to my office and listen in private. Controlling the flow of information and how much to share is one of the most important and least documented parts of command. In this case the entire bridge knew there was an incoming message and my leaving the bridge to listen would send an even stronger message than anything on the broadcast. With that in mind I made my decision. “Play the message.”

The raspy sound that came over the system speakers hurt my ears for a moment before it settled into a voice. Even though it was in English the natural echo made the words difficult to understand. They reverberated in an inhuman manner. “This system and all its resources are now under the control of the Foline Empire. You have two of your standard days to evacuate or likewise become our property.” The message then started to repeat in a loop.

“Ok, shut that thing off. First contact with another intelligent species and they want one of our systems.”

“What are we going to do captain?” Henderson looked back at me with an expression I couldn’t place. I suspected it was a mixture of fear and anticipation.

“We’re going to leave. Without any weapons we don’t really have another option. I want to gather as much intel as we possibly can before jumping though. I want sensor readings, and I need a way around that jamming so we can get reports from the system stations. This is top priority for every department.”

I pulled up my tablet and shot off commands to all my senior staff. Then I started creating the framework for my report. I couldn’t be sure what the other ships in the system would do, but I wasn’t going to run until I had something useful to take back with us. At that point we only had one message and no actual information on our new enemies.

I tried to stay out of the way of my people and let them work, but it was difficult not to micromanage them. I trust my crew, but the need to know right down to the second what our progress was weighed on me. Some of the crew had family in the system and leaving didn’t sit well with them. It didn’t sit well with me either, but I had a duty to ensure that our defense forces got the most complete reports of what happened I could provide. It was the only way to ensure other systems didn’t fall and perhaps this one could eventually be liberated. The crew could worry about their loved ones and the outrage they felt, but I had to have the bigger picture in mind. I needed to be concerned with our entire civilization.

With only an hour to spare before the Foline deadline my crew performed a miracle. We were able to break through the communication jamming and open communications with one of the planetary orbitals. They informed us that the hub station was destroyed, but before it went, they had transmitted deep scan readings of three enemy ships. The orbital had been consolidating reports and performing analysis of the enemy weapon signatures before the jamming went into effect. I had the intel I was looking for so with a heavy heart I gave my order. “Mr. Henderson. Please calculate and initiate the jump home.”

“Yes sir.” I knew it was difficult for him to obey my order. His husband was on the third planet of the system and jumping meant leaving him to the enemy. He did his duty though and I pretended not to see the tear run down his face as we jumped out of the system.