The Nearly 101 Almost-Deaths of Heinrich 347-A
He arrived in one of our infrequent shipments of supplies and tools; he wasn’t new, there was a tell-tale stain of oxidation along the lines of his torso welding, but he certainly was different. I had not seen a dinerbot in over five years, and this was the last place I would have expected it.
The hands of the Chief were cold. It was not winter carelessness; his mind was cold as well. It had been five years, and still the grove was dying.
“What kind of food do they serve?”
“Oh, just… American food. Bistro type stuff I guess. But you’ll never see food the same way again.” David blushed slightly.
So, in my one known past life, I was basically nobody.
The scientific community at large threw up its hands in exasperation. It was obviously a prank, albeit a sophisticated one. But who had the technology to fake a transmission from the moon?
I was young enough at the time that Mom picked me up and ran with me rather than waiting on my short legs. There was never any telling how long the sun might take to set. Better safe than sorry.
Flash fiction submission for a contest
The playground is filled with people, all of whom are delicious.
The Home of Forgotten Stories 