Reduction In Force
I didn't see any practical difference
when they replaced the bus drivers with chimpanzees. When the grim
ladies in the benefits office vanished and octopi took their places I
thought it was an improvement. And so it went. In the end, zero human
employment wasn't such a bad thing. The factories ran smoothly
staffed by giant spiders and genetically modified prairie dogs.
Sylvia and I had our museums, parks, sidewalk cafés, and all the
pleasures of a leisured life. I had my games and she had her tableau
photography. We loved gallery openings, plays, espresso by the
square. We had TIME. All that's gone now, and I'm a hunted man.
One night I returned to our apartment
after spending a couple of pleasant hours playing baseball in the
park. I anticipated that Sylvia had prepared a delicious meal –
gourmet cooking was a passion of hers. We would settle in at the
entertainment portal and launch a beautiful milieu in which to eat
our dinner. Maybe Venice before the Melting. I palmed the security
pad, slipped inside, and stopped still. I sniffed the air. There was
no sound; an acrid scent tickled my nose, and something else. The
lights were off.
"Hi honey, I'm home?" My only
answer was a faint rustling from the portal area. I flicked on the
light.
"Is this a prank?" I think I
already knew that it wasn't. Something a lot like a mantis sat in
Sylvia's favorite chair. Its color matched her skin tone. Its
mandibles clacked and a semblance of human speech emanated from its
voder.
"This one regrets to inform that
the female human has been downsized. This one will function as
spouse at greatly reduced expense."
I was already swinging the bat when the
mantis lunged, jaws wide. Dense plastic met chitin-clad protoplasm,
and ungodly amounts of green goo mixed with flesh-colored shards
splattered everywhere. The mantis's body jack-knifed across the
room, legs thrashing. I dropped the bat and leaped to the chair. Most
of Sylvia lay on the floor behind it, in front of the faux bookcase.
The carpet surrounded her, wet and brown. I didn't see her head.
The next thing I remember I was running
down the street, bat in hand. I was sticky and I smelled. Everyone
else was running too, perhaps for the same reason I was. I heard
screams. I'm almost sure they weren't mine.
Publ. Daily Cabal 2010
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