Authonomy – Friday Flash Fiction [FFF]
Post: FFF – February 28, 2014
Theme / Genre: –
Include: Words: Uliratha, Locobot, Vollume, Roinad & Digisol
Words: 1,020
New Books
Russell sat in the stockroom with a hot cup of instant coffee.
‘Gareth, can we not get one of those automatic coffee machines,’ he said to his boss, ‘or maybe install a franchised coffee brand, this instant stuff is mank.’
‘Russell, we’re a small independent bookshop, we’re on our last legs, times are hard.’
‘Stop being so cliché, Gareth.’
‘We don’t have the floor space to sell coffee, what about chairs and tables, a disabled toilet.’
‘We have a toilet, but that’s mank too.’
The door buzzer stopped their flow; this mornings deliveries had arrived.
‘Would you mind, Russell, it is part of your job description, drinking coffee isn’t.’
‘There had better be a few good books in today,’ he said, ‘the new Lilian Kendrick, maybe.’
‘I’m going to open up then, let me know what’s arrived.’ Gareth disappeared through the archway into the shop. Russell made his way to the back door.
Fifteen minutes later, Russell stuck his head out of the stockroom, the shop was empty.
‘Five new books,’ he said.
‘What, only five, how come?’
‘I don’t know, and they’re all new authors.’
‘I think your coffee bar idea might have legs yet,’ Gareth’s voice sounded despondent. ‘So what are they then?’
‘I think you’ll be impressed.’
‘Just tell me, Russell.’
‘I’ll read the press release,’ he came behind the counter with another fresh cup of instant, sat on a stool and began reading.
‘Future Word Book Compan—‘
‘Who?’
‘Future Word Book Company.’
‘Never heard of them.’
‘Stop interrupting. Future Word Book Company. Today’s date, blah, blah, we are, company spiel, blah, blah—’
‘Come on.’
‘…our latest books are: The Uliratha Scope,’
‘The what?’
‘The Uliratha Scope.’
‘What’s one of those?’
‘I’ll come to that…by Michelle74.’
‘Michelle74? Don’t tell me, she’s forty.’
‘Possibly, are you going to let me finish.’
‘I’m not sure I want you to.’
‘Do you want to know what’s it about?’
‘Go on.’
‘Zarquin Mystell and his mining ship find an uncharted colony on Pluto’s moon Charon, the colony is full of voluptuous women. The colony holds a medical institute and a curious piece of equipment called The Uliratha Scope. Captain Mystell and his manly crew witness strange occurrences during their visit and members of his crew turn effeminate following visits to the centre. His second-in-command grows breasts and—‘
‘Enough, sounds crap, next.’
‘Locobot and the Fat Organism by Q.Q.Z.’
‘Are you serious about these?’
‘Deadly!’
‘Go on…’
‘Locobot 627B works on the Intergalactic Lightspeeders, an entertainment droid, he teams up with a plump alien prostitute—‘
‘A plump alien prostitute?’
‘There’s a lot of demand for bigger women.’
‘Really? With an entertainment droid?’
‘Let’s see, ah… plump prostitute, they collude to steal from rich sex clients aboard the—‘
‘Next!’
‘Vallume: King of Berkstarhamstroodparmintington by ArmsLegsBumsiDaisy.’
‘Arms, legs, bumsi, Christ! This has to be a joke.’
‘No joke…’ Russell takes a mouthful of coffee and notices two customers have entered the shop and are listening. ‘Vallume, King of Berk…blah…blah is the high King of Necrolandia—’
‘Next!’
‘But I didn’t get—’
‘Next!’
‘Okay. Roinad’s—’
‘Wait, these are all sexually explicit.’
‘What?’
‘Shades of whatsname, only sci-fi.’
‘You mean, Sci-fi Erotica.’
‘Yes, I bet they are all written by a group of sex-staved middle-aged women, who’s kids have left home and the husband works all the hours he can, just to pay for her selfish indulgence into peddling rubbish space porn.’
‘I don’t think so, Gareth.’
‘Sylvie Waters has got a lot to answer for.’
‘Who?’
‘Never mind, at least her books have more romance and are wrote better.’
‘Written better.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Shall I?’
‘You might as well.’
‘Roinad’s Def—’
‘Excuse me,’ a customer interrupted. ‘Do you have any Sylvie Waters?’
‘Sorry, we’re sold out,’ Gareth replied.
‘Shame,’ said the other customer.
‘Well, let’s see what this one is about shall we,’ Russell looked at the small group huddled around the counter. ‘Roinad’s Defence by Reggie the Veggie.’
‘Reggie the Veggie! They’re getting worse, Russell, really they are. More dirty scuz-fi.’
‘Gordon Roinad, the famous Belgian escapologist has been locked up, by Russian Armed Forces. His crimes include: gun-running to Ukraine freedom fighters, Scandinavian drug smuggling—’
‘This sounds a little more promising,’ Gareth said, with a deal more interest.
‘Yeah,’ the two customers agreed.
‘… Scandinavian drug smuggling and trafficking under-age children from all over the Russia Federation off-world to Epsilon 23 playground planet for aliens of the—’
‘Get out of here, under-age inter-planetary trafficking, this ones gone to far.’
‘It’s just a story.’
‘Yes, and more sci-fi noneroticism. This shit doesn’t sell.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ a third customer said. Another appeared alongside her, and a fifth and sixth behind. The store was filling up; with men and women.
‘The last one then?’ asked Russell.
‘Very well,’ Gareth relented.
‘The Digisol Dilemma Again by Roy Nad.’
‘Again by Roy Nad, wasn’t he the Belgian fella?’
‘No, that was Roinad, Gordon Roinad.’
‘Sounds the same to me, and you did say again, are they the same person.’
‘No, the title is The Digisol Dilemma Again. Not The Digisol Dilemma, again by Roinad.’
‘Are they all pseudonyms?’
‘Maybe.’
‘For one person?’
‘Let’s finish the sheet first.’
‘Hurry up then.’
‘Bartok Flux—’
‘Here we go.’
‘That’s a strong name,’ a voice from the now crowded shop said.
‘Bartok Flux is the multibillionaire owner of Digisol, the twenty-second century’s biggest—’
‘Uncanny, another sci-fi-erotical novel.’
‘Told you it was a strong name,’ the same voice again.
‘…the twenty-second century’s biggest entertainment company.’
‘There’s a theme here,’ Gareth noted.
‘Shh,’ said the group.
‘When the digital soul program self-viruses itself into a transgender—’
‘This is torturous—‘
‘I’ll have a copy, please,’ one customer said.
‘Me, too,’ said another.
‘I’ll take all five books,’ said another. And another. And another.
‘Oh well, bring them through, Russell, looks like they’ll sell,’ Gareth said dejected.
‘Would you mind bringing them through, Gareth,’ Russell said, as cool as. ‘I’m going to be too busy with autographs.’
‘Wha—’
‘Yes, they’re all written by me!’
