Written by Jacob Ibrag
‘We’re still a go ahead on the build, conditions
are stable enough to lay over foundation.’ Awaiting
response from the voice inside his head, he stood still and
watched as a polar bear tore into its dinner. ‘Understood, I’ll
deliver on the arrangements before then. Do I need to remind
you on the package?’ Tapping on the outside of his right earlobe,
the transmission ceased to continue. Moving a little closer to the
bear, he stopped fifteen feet back and blinked three times to capture
a photo for later. ‘This wasn’t my idea, yet I must comply. With this
final favor, I’ll finally get to see him. Five years, five years since I’ve
seen my boys face.’ Projecting an image of his wife from his
left eye and onto the palm of his hand, the bear became
startled and ran the other way. ‘I’m sorry for
everything, I’m just the engineer.’
Photography by Klaus Thymann
Interesting. Very futuristic. I like that kind of Sci-fi stuff!!
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Thank you 🙂
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☺ 🌷
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Pingback: Driven to Distraction | News Notes 1
Compelling added readings
to discern and appreciate its meaning,
and succeeding in the disjointed,
yet well-meaning tone of its being.
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Thank Randy 🙂
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Thanks, Jacob. Really, really liked this one. You could really feel the scene as you described it. Better is what was left unsaid. Really fantastic! Happy New Year, again!
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Once again, nicely crafted
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Thank you 😀
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Good
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Thanks
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Welcome
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Awesome!! Each and every word☺@
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Thanks Vivek 🙂
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Nice blog set up, photos, and a nice piece of writing here. Not sure quite what to make of it. Startled to read, “polar bear,” which kept me reading after I thought this was just going to be some regular workaday techie day in the life. A pleasant surprise to find the more unusual locale, work situation, and the emotion underneath it.
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Thank you very much 😀
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Oh, and thank you for following and Liking so often on my blog. :~)
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Great piece of writing. Really gets the imagination going.
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Thanks Martin 🙂
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This is sad. But very good. A question of who bears the blame?
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Thank you 🙂
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I remember . . . Brenda.
How we zee-gee danced like star struck fools across the glassy
open spaces inside the smelting oven chambers of Star Forge Station 47.
So afraid that at a moment’s notice they might open the Mylar lens,
igniting the solar touches that burn chunks of moon rock into solar
cells. I remember how you charmed the station commander when we were
discovered.
How we curled and unfurled in a tangle of love deep in the steamy
heart of the polymer ‘turkey bag’ jungles of Enoch Tor, mere microns of
polymer between us and hard vacuum. Gently floating, idle in the soft
green light of the moment you told me of your disdain for the ‘ground
worms’ who live in such maddening profusion at the bottom of the Well.
Of your star-child contempt for gravity. Your strange sardonic smile
when you fell silent. I can still see your eyes suddenly dark as the
obsidian void between the stars when I told you . . . told you that I
loved you.
I remember the flash rescue mission at Geo-sync Prime. How we
huddled in the cramped one man cockpit of the Space Navy rapid-response
launch, pulling more gees than humans were designed for down the Well.
How you risked more than your life to save that stranded girl. How we
were paraded through the neon confetti clouded belt ways of Grand
Central Station, heroes beyond any doubt. How you were fashionably
unimpressed.
I remember . . . the flashing crystal shards and the scream of
decompression piercing my helmet. Shit! Blowout! My head screaming
with claxons and I see the lock warning lights flashing!
See the lights! Brenda, do you see the lights? Get to station,
damn it, GET TO STATION! The lock is closing, relentlessly. Can’t hold
it . . . I feel the metal plate in my boot buckling as I try to obstruct
the damned door. I hate hydraulics. Come ON!. Have you grown so tired
of your life . . . with me? Please don’t be in such a hurry to leave
me . . .
Again, I am pleading with you, begging you to grab the tether.
Please, please, please pull yourself in.
You blew me a kiss.
Here in my head, in the silence of this room, I still hear the air
shrieking into the lock. Again I feel people trying to grapple me
aboard as I fight to get to you.
In the silence of this room I remember . . . Brenda.
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Wow, I absolutely loved reading this 🙂
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some file footage from a flash thing i wrote – your picture reminded me of it – regards
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Reblogged this on Creative Writing Reblogged.
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