This Pine Cone

Daniel planted the pine cone on the edge of their yard and checked it daily until a tiny sapling sprouted from the ground. Two years he watched it grow before the steel company bought their land for a new plant. The landscapers thought the young tree on the edge of the property looked environmentally friendly, so they added a hundred matching trees. When Daniel started working there four years later, he still recognized his tree, just a little less regular than the nursery-bought trees. In case he forgot, he marked it with his initials. Ten years he worked there, and he never failed to stop by the tree each day.

Economic depression shut the plant down, then economic collapse made a ghost out of the town. Daniel sheltered in the plant, a place he knew well with enough space for his friends and family to squat. When winter came, they cut the trees for warmth, but never Daniel's tree.

After five years and a hard harvest, they needed the wood. Daniel cut down the tree he'd planted over twenty years before, burning it branch by branch. When he reached the bottom, he found his initials. That piece, he kept.

Zero Murders

A man and a woman sat in a room on two secondhand chairs, waiting for a phone to ring. Apart from the chairs, the people, and the phone, the room was empty. The man nodded at the woman. "How many people you murdered?"

"Murdered? Why'd you say murdered?" She looked at him hard enough to groove stone.

"'Cause that's what we do, yeah? Murder people?" He pulled back his coat and gestured at the shoulder holster.

"Not me," she said. "Sure, I kill, but I don't murder."

"How many, then?"

"Seven. Zero murders."

"In this business? How d'you figure?"

"See, I don't just kill someone, right?" She pulled out her gun and pointed it at him. "I do this. When they pull a piece or grab a knife or something and come at me, it's self defense."

"Bullshit. You started it."

"'Snot bullshit, dickhead. It's law. I'm guilty of assault, right, pointing the gun, but when they attack me, I'm doing self defense."

"Whatever."

"Not whatever. I'm right. Say I'm right."

"No, you're fucking wrong."

"You just call me a fucker?" She stood, still pointing the gun at him.

"I didn't call you anything, bitch, sit down."

"Oh, I'm a bitch now, huh? You better apologize. Now."

"No fucking way, you crazy—" Her gunshot took him by surprise. He stared down at the blood spreading across his shirt, then her second shot took his surprise away. She reached into his jacket and put his gun in his hand.

"Now it's eight and zero, dickhead."

Broadening Certain Life Experiences

"Really?" Nome said. "So now you're just sticking an egg beater into the space-time continuum and scrambling it?" "No!" Arkady flipped her long blond hair back and pulled on her goggles. "No, no, no, kind of, yeah, probably." She moved next to the elevator-sized metal artichoke that tied loops in the fourth dimension. "More like I'm... broadening certain historical figures' life experiences. Making them more worldly. That can't be bad, right?" The artichoke began to hum.

"Why?" Nome hurried into her goggles. With her short brown hair, it took much less effort. "Give me some mathematical reason why that can't be bad."

"Shrug."

"Did you just say 'shrug?'"

The machine flashed, then flashed again. Arkady had disappeared between flashes, and she reappeared with a large, Scandinavian man. "Sorry, I had to pick up Leif Eriksson from 900 AD Egypt." The man handed her a bag, then she fiddled with the artichoke and he disappeared. "Huh, citrus." She blinked, then picked up a knife from her workbench and started fiddling with the fruit.

"You're done, right? This is it? The last... are you even listening?"

"Are you still lecturing?"

"Yeah."

"Then no." Arkady kept on with the knife.

"What are you doing?" Nome looked over Arkady's shoulder, her frustration tempered by curiosity.

"Taa-daa!" Arkady held up a yellow face carved into a rough likeness of Abraham Lincoln. "Look! It even has a little stovepipe!" She plonked a yellow hat on top.

Nome followed her over to the machine. "What are you doing?"

"Sending it to the 1860 White House." Flash, and it was gone.

"But why?"

Arkady looked at Nome like she was dull. "When Leif gives you lemons, make Lemon Abe."

It was all Nome could do not to punch her.

For more Nome and Arkady, read "Perfectly Justified Response" at Daily Science Fiction!

A Real Inspiration

The warrior lowered her spear, and her opponent paused. She raised the spear again and opened her mouth for a battle cry, but lowered it again in silence. Her opponent came closer, but not too close. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just... I'm just not feeling it today, I guess." She looked at the ground.

"Fighter's block?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"That's rough. Don't stress about it, though. Happens to everyone." He drove his spear into the ground and sat.

"Really?"

"Totally. Maybe you just feel kind of sick, or you haven't slept well, or maybe you're excited about something entirely unrelated. Doesn't matter." He smiled. "Some days, you just can't figure out where you want to swing your sword next."

"So what do you do about it?"

"One thing I've heard, you can start fighting something, anything, just to get moving, and that'll help."

"You've heard?"

"Well, yeah. It's never happened to me."

"You said everybody gets it."

"In general, sure. But y'know, not me."

She cracked her knuckles. "You know, this chat really helped."

"Yeah? I'm glad." He got to his feet, then fell to the ground with her spear in his chest.

She left it there. "A real inspiration."

Teen Burglars Thought They Scored Drugs. What They Snorted is Unreal!

"Dude, that was awesome!" Liam fist-bumped Charles as he snuck behind the hedge. "Totally." Hannah smiled, and Charles hoped the twilight would hide his blush.

"Awright," Kev shouted, "Chas the Spaz comes through!"

Charles winced. "Maybe you could call me Charles?"

"Yeah, man," Liam said. "Be cool."

"Sure, man. So, what'd the creepy old dude have?" Kev snatched the bag from Charles. "Oxys?"

"Looks like Cody to me," Hannah said. "Or Bennies."

Liam grabbed one capsule and cracked it open, spilling the powder onto his student ID. "Bottoms up!" He snorted the batch. Hannah and Kev followed suit, and watching them watch him, Charles did the same. The powder stung, then burned deep between his eyes. He felt nauseous, and closed his eyes in discomfort.

One of the others moaned, Charles wasn't sure which. "Anyone else seeing purple shapes?" Hannah asked.

"Way to go, Spaz." Kev punched Charles as if between friends, but harder. Charles fell on his butt. "What are these?"

Charles opened his eyes, seeing the street through a purple filter. Lilac figures stood around them. Some were ancient, others bore horrific wounds.

You've done something foolish. The thought resounded in their heads. Sadly, you can't go back.

An Outstretched Hand

"Hi, I'm Dorothy." She offered her hand, wrinkled and pale, from the next table over. He took it. "Uh, hi. Adam."

"I knew an Adam once. Saved my life."

"Really?"

"Swear to God." Dorothy put a hand over her heart. "We were crossing the Himalayas after the avalanche — the roads were out, see, and the pass was the safest way—"

"You couldn't just wait?"

"Not if we wanted to get penicillin to the dying folks over there."

"Shit."

"And vomit and blood. But enough about symptoms. So we're hauling this sledge over the rubble—"

A reflective-vested construction worker leaned over from the counter. "You were pulling it by hand?"

"The only horse was on the other side, so it was pull by hand or give up. Now, we're lowering it down the slope when a rope snaps..." Five minutes later, the entire restaurant was listening silently. "...and I'll never forget him. Still send him Christmas cards, actually."

Silence reigned in the restaurant. A server cleared her throat. "Do you know any stories about a Cassie?"

"Does Cassandra count? Then, by God, I knew a Cassandra. Possibly the smartest woman I ever knew...." The restaurant leaned in for another story.

Informative and Disgusting

"You ever have one of those days when you just can't pee straight?" Dave closed the door behind him and buckled up. "Um, no?" Nitya gestured at her crotch, which contained zero penises.

"I figured. Well, it's a pain in the ass. Gets everywhere, and you feel bad for making a mess, but not bad enough to clean it up. It gets on your shoes, and—"

"I think I get it." She pulled into traffic. "Informative and disgusting, thank you. Is this a real thing?" She looked in the rearview mirror at Ivo.

"Oh, sure." Ivo bobbed his head. "Some days, it just goes like that. Bends this way or that, nothing to do about it."

"How does it bend?" Nitya made a face.

Dave gestured. "See, when the pee comes out, it squirts off in another direction, like a hose with your thumb on the end."

"Well, yes," Ivo said, "that happens. But that is a small thing. Sometimes it just twists and turns in mid-air. Ends up everywhere. I hate it."

"What?" Dave asked, at the same time Nitya said, "How?"

"Something to do with body temperature and fluid dynamics of hot liquids, I think.... This doesn't happen to you?" Dave could only shake his head.