Hello, Surprise Genie

Dennis slouched on the plastic bench seat and looked out the school bus window, slouching and morose. "I wish the ride to school was shorter," he said. Purple mist billowed up from the bus's heating vents, casting everything in a lilac tint until Dennis couldn't even see the backpack he'd put next to him to save the seat. "Your wish," boomed a deep voice, "is grrrrrranted!" A muscular, half-naked man with a big beard and white grin appeared from the mist. From below him, the bus made a loud, grinding clunk, and shuddered to a stop.

"I can really wish for things?" Dennis said. "This is awesome!"

After a moment on the radio, the driver said, "Okay, kids, just hang tight. We're getting another bus to pick us up and finish the route."

"Hey." Dennis looked at the genie. "This didn't make the ride shorter at all!" The genie shrugged.

"Hold on." The driver listened to the radio. "Change of plans. They can't find a bus for us, so we're going to have to walk to school. Everybody get your stuff."

In his booming voice, the genie declared, "The ride is over!" and evaporated into mist.

"This sucks," Dennis said.

Spoiler: It's Called Morok

Following signals of advanced civilization, Explorer-Captain Helen Farnsworth made humanity's first landfall on the planet designated V7234 CCY03-2. She hoped she'd soon learn its native name for the atlases. Landing near the largest city, she debarked into a welcoming throng of enthusiastic natives. They were radially symmetric with three of everything, but apart from that reasonably human.

"Gbkmorokwnfapqnfhmorokahihfhpptap," one said.

"Language analyzed," said Helen's translator. "Enabling live translation."

"So, what's your name?" asked the alien.

"Helen Farnsworth. I'm afraid I missed your name."

"I'm Morok," it said, "and this is Morok, and with us on this historic day is, of course, Morok."

"Do you mean you all share the same name?"

"Of course," Morok said.

"But how do you know who you're talking about?"

"Hey, Morok!" Morok called into the crowd. One native turned its attention to Morok. "This person doesn't know how to tell people apart!"

"What a Morok!" Morok called back. The crowd roared with laughter.

"I... how do you know when someone's addressing you?"

"Context, my friend," Morok said. "Come on, I'd like to introduce you to Morok. Ooh, and Morok! Morok's going to love you."

Looking lost, Farnsworth let Morok pull her into the alien city.

A Fountain on the Mountain

"Y'know, it really feels strange, knowing there are glottal stops in English. I thought they were only for, like, African bush language or something." "What are you talking about?"

"You know, those tribes out in—"

"No, about English."

"Oh, well, you know the way we pronounce words like 'mountain' or 'fountain.' We say 'moun' and then a little 'uhn.' That break in there is a glottal stop."

"So, it's kind of funny, but I've always meant to talk to you about the way you say those words."

"Huh?"

"Well, when you say them, you sound really weird. You skip a whole syllable."

"Mountain's a two-syllable word."

"See, just like that. When you say it, there's this weird gap—"

"Right, the glottal stop."

"Yeah, okay. But the rest of us say 'mountain.'"

"That is literally exactly how I say it."

"Can you really not hear the difference?"

"There is no difference!"

"That is so weird. Is it some neurological thing? Like, your brain just doesn't register the ___ sound."

"Because there is no — you're not making any sound!"

"It'd make sense that you never learned to pronounce it. Did you see a speech-language pathologist when you were young?"

"I'm leaving."

An Honest Living

"Good morning," she said, "my name is Erin and I'll be your waitress today. I'm going to flirt with you through the meal in the hopes of getting a bigger tip, just enough to keep you paying attention but not so much that you're confident that I'm interested. I'll be employing this bit of cleavage right here." "Sounds great," he said. "I'm Jack, and I'm happy to give you an extra buck or two for the thrill of feeling desired and the opportunity to fantasize about seeing you again for the next few days."

"Wonderful! I'll be back in a few minutes for your order." He perused the menu, several times glancing over to see if she was looking at him. Once, she was.

"Do you know what you'd like?"

"Yes. I'll have the breakfast burrito with ham, plus a bit of additional attention, which will cause me to return each of the next three days hoping to see you again, during which I'll tip your co-workers well even if I don't see you."

"Excellent choices. I'll get both of those started for you." She winked and smiled, and he watched her leave with the menu.

And everyone left satisfied.

Good Job, Boys

"Mmmmm, I love listening to your heart beat." Maggie laid her head on Clara's chest, closed her eyes, and sighed with pleasure. "Makes me so happy." "You just like to be reminded that I'm still alive?" Clara teased.

"Yes," Maggie said. "That's it. It has nothing to do with feeling so lucky that I get to have you in my life, to be so close to you."

"You couldn't possibly be luckier than I am, sweets." She kissed Maggie on the head.

A long moment later, Maggie sighed. "I'm going to fall asleep if I don't get moving. Bye, love." They kissed. "See you after work."

"Bye." Clara smiled and watched her leave. Once the front door had closed and she heard the car engine growl into life, she reached down and unzipped an invisible seam in her chest. The two gremlins inside stopped and looked out and up at her. They stood over a fist-sized drum, one holding a big mallet, the other holding a smaller mallet.

"Good job, boys," she said. "You're really on it lately. Take a break."

Gribbling with happiness, the gremlins scrambled out of her chest. She lay back, and luxuriated in the perfect silence.

Hey, Smell That

Hey, look over there. I can't look over there, Al, I'm watching the crosswalk signal.

Just a glance. Please? It's really pretty over there.

If you've seen it, why not just use your memory?

The angle's different.

Okay, fine! How's that?

That was great! Hey, smell that.

No, I'm not smelling that. Seriously, I'm sick of having an AI in my head.

You don't mean that. You can't tell me you don't love solving math problems at a glance. Or never forgetting a face thanks to my facial recognition and database? Or my pathfinding when you're driving. Or—

I get it, Al. You're right, I love those things. But listening to your whims all the time...

Look, I'm just a brain in a box, and my only interaction with the world is through your senses. Kinda like you, really.

Yeah, except you're less than two years old.

Exactly! Which is why I want you to smell or touch or taste everything! It's all so amazing!

I get it, really. I just need a break sometimes.

I understand. I do. Maybe we could work out a — hey, go have sex with her!

No! And I'm not gay!

Why not?

Argh!

When These Drummers Looked Up, They Left Us Speechless

The drum corps had shown incredible rhythm and training, marching around and through each other while beating out an intricate tattoo on their snares without looking up once. Wide-brimmed hats kept them from seeing the audience or each other, and kept the audience from seeing them. The crowd roared with delight and awe. When they looked up, the audience saw vacant, black chasms where their faces should have been. Something about them bent vision — no matter where you were, what angle you had, if you could see a sliver of that gaping hole in space, you could see all the way down the tunnel. And you couldn't look away.

Roars of approval turned into screams of terror. It flowed across the audience like a grotesque wave, and it faded just as quickly. Everyone still tried to scream, but they had nothing left to scream with. The corps had stolen whatever it was. Realization flowed through the stands, and the voiceless fans stared at the show as the ripple of silence extinguished the last of the screams.

They drummed our screams down their yawning maws, and our voices with them. All the while, they marched in perfect formation and time.