first short story of 2023

A Story by suuyuwriteyunu

a not really good piece of writing

The sweet scent of cinnamon wafted up my nose as I took a deep breath in, welcoming the season of fall. The birds chirped playfully around my ears and I sighed deeply, and was crushed by the obnoxious smell of week-old pizza. I wrinkled my nose, rolling my eyes because all of this was fake.

Don’t ask me how I know all this, I just do. The sound of birds? Ha! You’ve got to be kidding me, those creatures have been extinct since 2036. It’s just the government toying with our brains, playing a ‘birdsong’ every morning. And the cinnamon? Artificial perfume made from some sicko brand everyone’s going crazy for.

Shoving a cap onto my head, Marsh, my robot maid, helped me pick out a pair of socks from the drawer. I scowled and snatched the pair of polka-dotted cloth from its hands. It’s lifeless hands. Oh, how I despise it.

No matter how many times I tell it not to nose into my business, it keeps coming back. You may be thinking ‘What? A robot maid? Who wouldn’t want that!’ Or ‘Wow! I want my own Marsh!’ I say, go ahead. Take the scrap piece of metal. It’s been living in my room without my consent anyway. Marsh opened the door for me and I thrust myself to the other side, still glaring full of hatred at its beeping eyes.

I made my way down the glass elevator and a low, jazzy hum entered my ears. This song was going to make me go absolutely insane. You’d think---living in an incredibly technologically advanced society in the year 2089---the elevators would be able to shuffle its playlist once in a while. But no. It’s the same old tune, same old beat, and the same old feeling of me going absolutely feral over it. The elevator let out a high pitched ‘ding!’ and flung its large metal doors open, swarming me with a herd of robots who huddled around me, wiping my sweat and dusting my shirt. Oh the absolute, inscrutable pain.

I swatted my hands over their metallic faces and they dispersed at once, leaving me even more disheveled than I had started with. From the living room, the strong pungent smell of junk food and sweat flooded me as my short-lived freedom ended with a start. Crowding over the sofa bed were three robots: Marshall, Marsh’s father, Molly, Marsh’s sister, and Martha, Marsh’s mother. All in which I detest. Laying belly flopped on the couch with his ginormous stomach belching out was…

“ALEX! Get me a can of soda, will you?” My dad. I call him Lazy. He was in his usual spot as always, and has been…for the past year. The towers of pizza and fried chicken boxes laying all around the room was a signature touch to his lair, and was also a signature touch to his greasy head. When you look at him and me, I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to spot a single similarity. His dark black hair was sticking to his wide neck and his grey eyes stared blankly at the ongoing television screen. I, on the other hand, made it a life goal to never end up anything like him. Including the way I dress, talk, and walk. Like he’s ever gotten up from that seat, I snorted. I’m pretty sure he had already forgotten how to walk. Or crawl.

“No, get your robot people to do it! You have a whole family of them flocking around your lair,” I called back, rolling my eyes. A robot then approached me with a bowl of cereal, which I gladly shoved out of the way.

“Are you going out to play with the boys?” Lazy hollered from the living room. I squinted my eyes. I was convinced half of the time my very own father wasn’t even aware of my own gender. He and mom had named me ‘Alex’, thinking I was a boy despite the doctor’s objections. And all because I had ‘no hair’. You can probably tell by now how uneducated this community is. Who would’ve thought a pair of middle-aged adults were unaware of the fact that all babies were born bald? Thank god the name was gender neutral, or else I would have to live with the name Brian forever, or worse…Barnaby. Just hearing it is making me shudder.

With a start, I rushed to the front door, eager to free myself from this nasty stench. I let out a relieved sigh as I step out into the open, contrived world.

Well, that was a lie. Because the garden in which I am standing is Propagator’s territory, in other words: my uncle. My traditional gardening fanatic uncle. And this man was the only person I know who still wants to physically ‘touch’ wet soil. With his straw hat perched atop his bald head, he plowed the soil as he whistled a tune in the air. Sweat beaded down his tanned skin, still unaware of my presence. Twisting my cap the other way, I trekked down the stoned path to where Propagator was, tying my long purple hair into a high ponytail. Muttering under his breath agitatedly, Propagator swatted his hands in the air, while still plowing his precious little weeds.

“These pesky little insects! How dare you make your way into my tropical garden!” Propagator mumbled irritatingly, clicking his tongue with haste. Around his face were two little flies flying back and forth, rapidly buzzing their metallic wings. I sighed and stopped Propagator’s hands before he could swat one of them to death.

“Uncle, those aren’t insects. They’re microbugs. Swat one and who knows what it’ll do to you.” Because the government is always watching, I rolled my eyes and let go of Propagator’s sweaty arms slowly, looking him in the eyes to warn him not to kill the metal thing.

“But Lexi, they’re bothering my pumpkins!” He then scowled at the microbugs and gave me a displeased look, “Such unacceptable, insufferable, ridiculous behavior!”

My uncle has a habit of spitting out all the vocabulary words he can dig up from his pea-sized brain and shove them all into one sentence. It’s a miracle this one actually made sense.

“Uncle…” I stared hard at his bushy eyebrows, my voice coated with warning. He didn’t know what these little things could do, and worse, I didn’t know either. There was no way anyone would be able to know unless you actually swat the---

“UNCLE!”

But it was too late.

I reached my hand out to stop his big arms from reaching the tiny bug, but he was a lot larger than me, thus, a lot stronger. I jumped on his back and wrestled his wide neck until we were both gasping and sweating like maniacs.

“Alex---*choke*---just this---*gasp*---once let me get my revenge on these pests!”

“NO!” I screamed, struggling to hold on to his broad shoulders. My sweaty hands weren’t helping either. With a forceful swing, Propagator threw himself to the fly and clapped one in the palm of his hands, a smirk now ripped across his face. His eyes blared and his nostrils flared.

“You are dead now, meekobug!” He cackled mercilessly as I clung onto his shoulders for dear life, flabbergasted and heaving. “See, Lexi? Nothing happened! You’re too paranoid when it comes to the government. They can’t do a thing to me and my plant babi---”

But his sentence was cut short.

Because the world around me turned black.

…

Beep. Beep.

The television screen was

‘News reports are stating that extraterrestrial creatures have been spotted along the border of Africa and are now…’

The volume tuned out as the man on the couch shouted across the room.

“Hey Marshall, get me another can of Coke, will ya?”

Gears hummed. Robots whizzed here and there, tinkering and fiddling with technology around the house.

The robot ignored his request.

“Mister,” it started, “it has been reported that two of the tenants have disap---”

BBZZ…zit.