Friday Fictioneers 5-6-2016


The signals came in through the satellite dish, buzzing down the line to the tiny receiver tucked in the back of his closet. No matter how much tech he brought, it only worked as fast as the world he was in. This one was tech challenged, one might say. They had the telephone, if you called the old rotary dial a real phone.

He didn’t. Obviously.

The message blinked up. “Today. Midnight.”

Inspirational, that. Clicking off the receiver, he broke it down, tucking important components into his bag and tossing the rest out various windows. The Dishes, he broke down and discarded.  He’d not need them here again.

Midnight. One shot. And then, lickety-split,  home again.


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