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| Posted by: |  Caleb_Monroe |
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| Date: | June 13th, 2008 6:53 PM | ||
| Header: | Flash Fiction Friday: Tuesday Morning | ||
| Bulletin: | TUESDAY MORNING Seifert emerges from the core of his satellite house into bright, bright sunlight. The spherical 6000-cubic-foot core is the innermost level of his home. He steps onto the core’s outer surface, which is the floor of the next layer of his home: the space deck. The third and final layer is above his head: a mostly-invisible energy shield that ionizes to keep him from going blind or burning to a crisp in the sun’s light and, of course, keeps atmosphere inside. He carries his breakfast to his lawn chair, which is maintains itself at such a heading that it’s always facing the earthset. This is his morning ritual. Today he cues the agitators to create a refreshing breeze. The microspeakers in his ears respond by producing the sound of wind blowing through trees overhead. Seifert has never seen a tree, but he found the recording browsing a random aural archive and finds it inevitably helps set him at ease. Continue reading here >> |
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