Parable of the Farmer

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, a young moisture farmer wished for a bigger life. While out seeking lost droids, he met a robed stranger, hungry in the desert. The farmer gave his lunch away without hesitation, at which point the stranger swept off its robe to reveal one of the wish-granting aliens of Navin Yine. "I will answer three questions," said the alien. "But know that the answers may not please you."

"How can I become a pilot for the rebellion?"

"Take your speeder into the city and walk into the third cantina you see. Buy passage on the hairiest person's ship."

The farmer dashed away that moment, not even saying farewell. He followed the alien's instructions and took flight that very evening. He had a great adventure, rescued a princess, and flew for the rebellion, destroying a great enemy fortress.

Taking refuge from the enemy on a planet of ice, the farmer saw a vision while on patrol: the alien of Navin Yine. "What is your second question?"

"How can I defeat the Empire?"

"Leave your friends, take to the wing, and leap space in the direction you face when you blink the thirty-second time. Travel as many light years as the number of people you can name, and land there."

Taking the alien's directions, the farmer left that very day. He lost his wings to a swamp, served a wizened creature for a year and a day, and discovered his inner magic. With this, he overthrew the Emperor and freed the galaxy.

Years later, when he had suffered betrayal and all his apprentices lay dead or monstrous, the moisture farmer sought out the alien. "All I want is to fix the mistakes I've made. How can I make up for all the damage I've done?"

"Take flight once more," said the alien. "Point your wing at the first star that catches your eye, and fly as many parsecs as you can count regrets. Live there, and you shall find what you seek."

He lives there still.

Compliments to the Chef

"Are you still working on that?" Marcia gestured to the plate, where a third of the expensive meal remained.

"No, I'm done." The customer leaned back and patted her belly. "Compliments to the chef, though."

"She'll love hearing that. Shall I fetch a box?"

"Ehhhh... no, thanks."

Marcia's solicitous smile faded over several seconds. "No box?"

Another waiter passed by. "What's going on?"

"She doesn't want a box, Jenny." Jenny dropped a wine glass but didn't seem to care.

"No box?"

Marcia grew pale. "What do we do?"

"Well, we don't tell her."

"Of course not!"

"Maybe we can sneak it past her..."

"Yes!" Marcia pushed the plate into Jenny's hands. "You do it," she hissed. Jenny pushed back with a protest, but Marcia insisted. "It's my table. If I do it, she'll know something's up. You have to!"

Jenny inhaled deeply, concealed the remnants of the meal beneath another plate, and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, indecipherable shouts, pitched high with alarm, rang out. The chef burst from the kitchen. She ran through the restaurant sobbing into her toque, and fled into the night.

Marcia looked at the slack-jawed customer. "I really wish you'd taken the box."

A Perfect Arrow

The rocket drifted through space, silent, its inertia undisturbed, a perfect arrow loosed at Europa. Daniela and Max sat on duty on the bridge.

Strapped to his seat, as per protocol, Max rolled his head back. "God, I can't wait until we get there."

Daniela ignored the protocols. She floated in midair as though lounging on a couch, at a level with Max's face. Her eyes were closed. "What's so great about getting there?"

"There'll be something to do. Boundaries, man, that's where everything interesting is. Water through dirt, erosion makes a valley. Hot air meets cold air? Tornadoes. Same thing when we reach Europa. Space. Planet. Something interesting."

Daniela breathed. "No boundaries out here?"

"No, man. It's just... space."

"Why you strapped to a chair, then?"

He looked at her. "What?"

"You're there because you think you're supposed to be."

"It's protocol," he muttered.

"It's conditioning. Conditioning is a boundary in your mind. Different circumstances," she raised one hand, "meet old expectations. Boundaries. They're everywhere. Stop staring at the obvious ones. Find the ones only you can see. Those're the interesting ones." She monkey-barred out of the room, leaving Max staring out into space, trying to find something interesting.

A Bitter Victory

"I know that we've all been working hard this year, but corporate needs to trim some fat." The manager stood on a chair in all his balding, pit-stained glory. The broad, open office before him was silent because, apart from one person and scores of cubicles, it was empty.

The sole employee looked around to confirm she was alone. "You know there are just two of us here, right?"

The manager ignored her. "I argued with them. Pleaded! In the end, I talked them into keeping everyone but one. A bitter victory, to be sure."

"And of the two of us, only one does actual work? And it's not you?"

"The decision was agony." He scanned his eyes across a crowd that wasn't there.

"If you fire me you'll be managing an empty office."

"In the end, I'm afraid it's going to be... you." He pointed. She held up a mirror.

The manager's demeanor changed. Now he looked on the verge of blubbering and furious. "Fine, I'll go! I gave the best years of my life to this company! This is discrimination! Security!" Calling security on himself, he escorted himself from the building.

"I really oughta quit," the employee said.