New Flash Fiction: Don't Mess With Chain Reactions or Worry About Strolling Down Memory Lane

We've two new flash fiction stories for you now. In Chain Reaction, Josh Vogt's protagonist discovers the quest for immortality may not be worth the price, while in our second tale Michael Westgarth takes us on a trip down Memory Lanes.

Josh Vogt is a full-time freelance writer and editor who has sold work to Paizo's Pathfinder Tales, the UFO2 & UFO3 anthologies, Shimmer, and Intergalactic Medicine Show, among others. He has a debut fantasy novel slated for this month and an urban fantasy series launching with WordFire Press in the summer. He isa member of SFWA as well as the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers. You can find him at www.jrvogt.com and follow him on Twitter @JRVogt

Michael Westgarth is a British freelance writer and aspiring creative writer. You can follow his work on his blog at http://MegaWestgarth.blogspot.co.uk and on Twitter @MegaWestgarth



CHAIN REACTION
By Josh Vogt


As I strapped in, I comforted myself in knowing that I’d tested the array a thousand times with flawless execution. All my assistants and servants had fled long ago, refusing to partake in what they saw as an abomination – the transplanting of my human brain into an immortal, mechanical body. Only I remained, making the actual transfer of my mind matter to its new chassis problematic, to say the least. Yet my ingenuity triumphed, as it always did.

Above the operating slab to which I was now secured, a series of pulleys, ropes, chains, and gears formed a maze of weight and counterweight, a delicate balance of potential. I only had to pull the lever at my side to activate the contraption. The saw would descend. The suction bell would extend and extract my brain into the waiting bucket, to be swung by a miniature crane around to an identical slab where the mindless automata lay. There, a brace waited to tip the bucket just so, depositing the brain into the false skull where prepared wiring would anchor it and re-engage sense and control. 

My new life awaited. After a final adulation of my genius, I grasped the lever and yanked. And, deteriorated from a thousand test runs, the primary motive chain snapped, leaving the rest of the machine inert as the saw dropped like a guillotine blade.



MEMORY LANES
by Michael Westgarth


Today was going to be a good day. 

The warm, reassuring thought came to Eric as he returned a smile to a fellow morning walker.

And so his unchanging journey began: a fifteen minute stroll along the same ordinary avenue to the same unassuming corner shop to pick up the same centrist newspaper. He performed the daily ritual to keep his elderly joints moving, which was especially important during these colder seasons.

His was a simple life, but Eric rarely complained. His younger years more than made up for it – years filled with more odd jobs than he could possibly remember. A solitary white van with tinted windows passed by. As he watched, Eric decided that he was most definitely a van driver at one point or another.

The shop was empty, as usual. Eric exchanged pleasantries with the shopkeeper – part of a brief and well rehearsed bout of small talk – while he scooped exact change from his pocket. Eric glanced back into the unpopulated, unremarkable building before leaving. He was certain that he'd have done a better job back when he was a shopkeeper. Or was he a barber? Perhaps a sailor?

He glanced at the newspaper. The headline grabbed his attention.

DATE SET FOR FIRST MAN ON MARS

Eric's brow furrowed. He must have gone to Mars at least once, back when he was an astronaut. 

He leant against a tree. Crisp, dead November leaves fluttered down around him. It was either Mars or Titan, Eric thought to himself, or was it Europa? Memories came and went. Eric was unable to cling to any of them. Life in zero gravity, the lunar installation, the Martian mining rig, the temple…

Eric nodded courteously to a smartly dressed, black suited passerby who gave him a warm, reassuring smile in return. His train of thought was lost, but he wasn't particularly interested in retracing it. Besides, it was a fresh, new day and he still had a paper to buy. 

Yep, today was going to be a good day.