Great Expectations

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


Responder pruned, collapsing in on itself, shrinking down like bacon in a frying pan. I knew from the few weeks since he'd shown up that the intensity of his emotional distress dictated the amount of area he lost. This was the worst I'd ever seen, losing nearly six inches of width and almost a foot of height. “Why?” he wailed, “How have you not hugged technology? We needed strong cousins, not shriveled remnants.”

It was amazing that his translator worked at all on us at all considering we were Uncontacted until recently, but there were still so many idioms I didn't understand. I shoved questions on what he meant to the side for later and concentrated on comforting him.

Patting some of his translucent protoplasm which caused it to ripple like jello, I said, “Our competitive nature's our strength and our weakness. We can still help you if you tell me what's wrong."

"Totality! You fought each other for rocks while hope was surrounded. Every cousin will shrivel and be no more. Your species is less than ideal."


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