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#tootfic

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“That’s nuts, five hundred bucks to rent a garbage skip for a week is extortion.”

“It’s mostly the new waste disposal fees at the dump, I’m told. Oh, I’m sorry ‘resource recovery centre’”.

“Look if you can wait til tomorrow I’ll bring home a voidgate from the office. I reckon i can wrangle a half meter one home on the bus, is that big enough?”

“That’s very neighbourly, thanks. Um, that should handle most of the stuff i need to get rid of, except the sofa.”

“No wukkers, I’ll sneak a nano blade home too.”

“*Where* do you work again?”

“Classified.”

"Delayed delight is worth the wait." he thought to himself, savoring the joy of the silly little rhyme.

He pulled the cookies from the oven and set them down on a trivet. Within seconds, the kitchen had filled with the most delightful smells of vanilla and citrus. Small islands of still-bubbling chocolate made the tray look like the tastiest volcano landscape on earth.

Without even looking, his hand reached for the timer. Three twists meant ten minutes. He started for the garden door, humming to the rhythm of the ticking timer; fresh mint tea would be the perfect companion.

As he passed the kitchen door, a dark shadow caught his eye, and with a flick of the wrist, he locked the door, causing cries of disappointment and great lament to erupt on the other side.

They would also learn, in time.

Enzo demoed his entry for the Really Overengineered Competition after the morning standup.

"Apparently we have a shirt theme going," Enzo said. "My entry is an auto-buttoner." He gestured to a mannequin with an unbuttoned shirt hanging on it. He buttoned the top-most button.

"It really doesn't count if you just button them all yourself," Sophia quipped.

Enzo smirked. He picked up a device resembling a small candy box. He fed the two halves of the shirt into slots and pressed a button. A motor whirred to life and the device slowly descended the shirt. It paused every couple of inches before continuing on, leaving a trail of fastened buttons in its wake.

When it reached the bottom, Enzo turned it off. "Tada!"

Everyone clapped. Antonio praised, "That's remarkable, man!"

"What does it feel like when you're the one wearing the shirt, though?" Sophia asked.

"Well," Enzo started, "I haven't tried it myself, yet. I am, however, accepting volunteers!"

"So what's this new hobby you wanted to show me?" I followed my friend in.

"Painting maxiatures."

"You mean miniatures, ri-? HO GEEZ!" I jumped back as an 8-foot orc grinned at me from the side.

"Relax," my friend knocked on his arm with a couple hollow clunks.

"Uh, there isn't anything gory or anything, is there?" I asked nervously.

"Nah! Come on out back! I'll show you my progress on the Saturn V!"

The mechanically adept will recall that “von Zeppelin’s Law” (yes, the airship fella) states that you should “never make any part of a machine stronger than the others”, because then the machine will just break where the strongest part joins the rest.

Cybertruck owners already demonstrated their lack of good sense, so perhaps could be forgiven for ignorance of The Law. Count Ferdy von died before all that Nazi 1.0 business, and was spared the embarrassment of witnessing his company’s final ships being tarted up in swastikas for a world tour of What Happens When You Don’t Follow The Instructions, (Oh The Humanity). Perhaps if the Count /had/ been a Nazi, the 2.0 generation would have paid him more attention.

Why am I telling you this?. Well, just like the Falling Out Of The Sky problem that led CvZ to formulate his Law, owners of the Stainless Steel Ratrods find their land zeppelins falling off the ground. Well, bits of them. Pieces of trim that were apparently sticky-taped on have been flying into the sky at highway speed.

If you’re going to break a law, one school of thought says, break it good and hard. If the trim drops off your Wankpanzer, use a stronger tape. I’m not talking about that molecular bonded “gecko tape”. The *strongest* tape uses nuclear adhesives, which is a term that is /bound/ to attract the attention of Deplorean owners.

What happens when a piece of stainless steel trim (despite the marketing, these Swasticars are just sheet metal glued onto a badly-engineered frame) wants to fly off, but the Strong Nuclear Force Says No? Readers of Dr E. E. Smith’s seven volume treatise on the confrontation of Irresistible Forces and Immovable Objects can guess the result: if you are fully constrained in three dimensions, try a fourth.

If you come across the inverted wreck of a Klanborghini that has turned inside-out at speed via the fourth dimension, don’t stop. You can’t help the owner; what came back didn’t live long, fortunately.

#Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot

#Previously aus.social/@Unixbigot/11265130

Aus.SocialKit Bashir (@Unixbigot@aus.social)Chennai (IANS): STICKY TAPED TOGETHER has long been a euphemism for poorly assembled goods that lack robustness or longevity. This is set to change with the development of a bonding film that eschews typical vegetable or synthetic gums for the vastly more powerful Strong Nuclear Force. The force that holds atomic nuclei together has had little application in our daily lives, despite being one hundred trillion trillion trillion times stronger than the force of gravity. Indian chemical giant General Adhesives has announced that their research into gluon-channeling materials has resulted in a sticky tape product that can lift over one million tons per square centimeter. Shares in quantum chromodynamics startups in the Tamil Nadu “Hadron Valley” research enclave are generally up on this news. #Tootfic #MicroFiction #PowerOnStoryToot

She caught her hand, just in time, and stood there, frozen, right on the border. Desire and greed on one side, reason and generosity on the other.
Painfully aware of her flawed existence, she sighed.
"There's nothing left!" she called into the other room.
Then she took the last cookie.

#PennedPossibilities 632 — What originally inspired your WIP’s plot?

I just finished the WIP less than 20 hours ago, so I'm going with it.

  1. The #writever prompts for March. Thirty-one one word prompts with the theme Women's Rights. Remember, I'm a feminist writer. One of the prompts was "abortion." Challenging, as were others. I learned a lot by researching why the prompts were chosen.
  2. The prompts originally come out in Français. The word in Français for March is "Mars." As a SF writer at heart, do you think I originally misread that? Ya Betcha!
  3. Who is associated with Mars who is also the most misogynistic creep ever, who seems to be destroying a century of civil, women's, and LGBTQIA rights single handedly? Oh, noes! Did RS have ideas about writing thinly veiled satire? Ya Betcha!

Wanna read it? Mars Needed Women: eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/11426181

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

#gender #fiction #writer #author
#sf #sff #sciencefiction
#writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSInklingsStory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

The cover art for Mars Needed Women. The background is of the Mars surface with rover tracks, big rocks, sand, and a greenish sky. There is a triskelion image of Mars, which is a tattoo in the story. Credit NASA and ESA for the photos. The back cover reads as follows:

Shanghaied

May Ri struggled when the EM goon clamped an aromatic wet rag over her nose and mouth...

Waking weightless and nauseated—stuffy head pounding, being floated somewhere—despite grogginess, she eyes-closed punched someone, spinning away to bounce off a wall. The click of cartilage, the thump off a bulkhead, the blare of a warning horn, and "Rig for ring spin!" rang in her ears. A tech clapped a bag over her mouth before she vomited up her last meal, while enduring the blonde's glare as blood beaded around her nose. May Ri glowered back. Sitting on the wall, dragged on her butt, her inner ear then her innards soon informed her the wall was becoming the floor.

From the author: 
“A hopeful deeply-dystopian feminist SF story, with thinly veiled jabs at our current world's bad actors making for a bad future. Please note the past tense in the title: Mars Needed Women.  The story's women are going to work to bring down the system, at least that part that's oppressing them, in a massive unscheduled 
disassembly.”
Eldritch CaféRS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist (@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe)Attached: 2 images My feminist SF web-novel *Mars Needed Women* is complete! 23,300 words in 31 chapters, one chapter posted each day throughout March, the last posted 23 minutes ago as I write this. Check out the cover art. To read, either use the hashtag #RSMarsNeededWomen or this link to the first chapter: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/114088945266387178 The full novel is in the thread. Just scroll to read. > “A hopeful deeply-dystopian feminist SF story, with thinly veiled jabs at our current world's bad actors making for a bad future. Please note the past tense in the title: Mars Needed Women. The story's women are going to work to bring down the system, at least that part that's oppressing them, in a massive unscheduled disassembly.” I'll leave it up for you to read for at least a week. After that, I'm revising it for later secondary publication. [Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.] #BoostingIsSharing #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera #writer #author #sf #sciencefiction #scifi #feminism #gender fiction #writingCommunity #writersOfMastodon

I was homeless when the Cat Distribution System recruited me. Camped under a bridge alongside the old canal, I shared my food and blanket with some homeless kittens.

“You’re a good person” a voice said.

I jumped and clutched my blanket, backing up against the concrete. “Leave me alone! I don’t have anything to steal.”

“Sorry to startle you. I’m here to offer you a job”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

The stranger indicated the kitten nose-down in a nearly empty tuna can. “I’ve seen what i need to see.”

“What’s the job? I won’t do evil.”

“Kitten smuggling. We get them to a safe country, find them homes. Subsidised accommodation but a lot of travel.”

That was six months ago. If you’re on a train, plane or suborbital and you see a kitten poking its nose out of a human or augmented human’s jacket, no you didn’t.

Reggie demoed his entry for the Really Overengineered Competition to the group at lunch time.

"I like wearing long sleeve shirts, but indoors it gets a little warm. I built a device that will roll the sleeves up for you. Now, mind you, I only have one of these working so far, and there are still a few bugs to be worked out."

Reggie placed what looked like a thick hairband on his wrist. The band had four clips dangling from it, which he attached to the edge of his unbuttoned sleeve. He pressed a button on the band, and it began to slowly "walk" up his arm by flipping over on itself, wrapping itself in his sleeve as it went. After three flips, it stopped.

The group applauded.

"That's amazing, Reg!" said Antonio. Maggie, Sophia, and Enzo nodded in agreement.

"So, you only built the one so far?" Jacob asked.

Reggie nodded.

"How does it do with unrolling?"

"Well, remember when I said there were a few bugs to be worked out?"

Continued thread

2503.30 31/31 — Wave #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

Marisela, aged 10, wearing her little Mars green enviro suit, smiled and waved a rust-stained gauntleted hand. They'd traveled to Jezero Crater. Behind her lay a famous scene of twin dark red rover tracks gouged into orange soil, between hills strewn with dark boulders and rusty shingle rocks. Dust storms and dust devils over the years had softened them. A crater wall stretched like a mountain range to the greenish hazy horizon. May Ri had wanted to celebrate Mari having suit-trained 2,000 nisei. Mari asked for a trip to Jezero with Momie. Reina made it so.

The image looped every 10 seconds with a blink.

In that blink of darkness, in memory, the cargo doors of the decapitated warship flew open. Her two-second delayed reaction had cost her daughter's life.

The North American Decath States had killed her daughter. She'd failed to stop them. She pounded the table. On the moon, that action pushed her from her chair.

"There you are," a dark-haired teenager asked, climbing the stairs into the observatory. Domes were built fully or partially buried, to protect from radiation. Few had windows, but this one did. Thick. 360º, with a full black sky above and a sun always peaking over the horizon. A cloudy blue world opposite entered a full phase, sliced off by crater walls.

Distracted by Mau approaching, she looked for Mi.

"No Miriam?" Rare.

"We caused Kyv to pull a muscle, but Mi's better at massaging. Give me something to bolt together any day! So, I answered a ping." She handed over May Ri's intentionally-left-behind book plate, then swiped the memory cube faster than her mother could jump, and slept it.

May Ri tapped a priority from Reina.

"I trust you," the recorded Onēsanue said. Her red hair hung limp. Her grey eyes displayed dark circles below them, transforming her freckles to ashes. "Your intuition said shoot the Bonhomme Richard despite the mayday. I insisted on international norms, that we attempt a rescue. I was wrong. My intuition was wrong. 1,323 people and your precious daughter died because I'd never been abused or oppressed by Earthers. I did not understand. I still don't understand, so I will say this: If leveling cities is your decision, or standing by and letting them cower in fear at what we might do is your decision, I shan't second guess you. I trust you." The message ended.

"Pfft! That was helpful!"

Maurine hugged her mother from behind, squeezing tightly, head on her shoulder. May Ri smelled sweat and Mi's rose perfume.

"Mau—?"

"Not happening, Momie!" She tried to bite her ear.

May Ri shoved her, laughing.

"Seriously. Ten minutes to the astronomical new moon. Next month a partial solar eclipse; today, we're in the sun's glare. You picked now symbolically, but you need to choose a plan." Mau's book plate filled will warning messages. One stated, "Get May Ri's rear in gear!!!" with 3 exclaims.

What was she to do? A blue world with billions of people led astray by a belief in an all-powerful invisible friend, or two, and a belief only money made friends. When she closed her eyes, she saw the red face of Mars, a flash, then another, then a distorted mushroom of fire and debris rising, as her daughter—

—had ceased to exist.

She envied the Decath, envied their certainty that there was a "better place" the dead would populate, would "live" happily forever.

She hugged herself. No. Her daughter was gone. Half-a-year ago. Nothing would bring her back.

Reina's trust did nothing to help. May Ri needed to prevent a repeat of that day.

Today.

Men had a brutal history of conquest, of killing the husbands and the children so the subsequent babies were theirs. May Ri read the books, understood the patriarchy and theology supporting it, and the Game of War. Women were no more than a prize.

Would she play? Destroy the capital of the States like they destroyed Herschel?

What would Marisela think? The girl had taught the Nisei to wear spacesuits because it made her more friends. Mau and Mi always said to make friends. Very Nisei.

"Friends?" May Ri asked.

Maureen gave a thumbs up.

May Ri didn't know what she'd choose. Her fingers typed in a code and keys.

Thorium SMRs across the Moon responded to loads as newly built spinlaunchers powered up, soon casting ton-sized payloads skyward. Southhome vibrated as the south polar set of twenty launched with a faint whump, whump, whump.

She looked at her book plate. She read the first target sweeping east to west. Cape Canaveral not General Washington City. She sighed. In three days, Earth would cease to have launch capability, except for the KJC.

"Let's warn them to evacuate two hours before impact."

"Sounds good," Mau said. #RSMarsNeededWomen 31

—END—

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

Continued thread

2503.29 30/31 — Matriarchy #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

Maurine watched Miriam slightly brush her chest against Kyv as she adjusted the book plate. Mau whispered in Mi's ear, "He's going to have trouble standing again."

"I know!" her sandy-haired twin mouthed. "Cute."

Kyv, their mother, and moonborne staff concentrated on a vid. The cargo starship jerked suddenly, starting to tumble. Res and perspective changed as the flyby view and magnification changed. The precision strike burst the fuel tank. The cargo bay opened; a robot arm checked damage.

"Maintain weapons range."

"Aye."

When the arm lofted a long black cylinder that resolved to a missile, their mother went pale. The scene before Hershel. "Fire! Fire now!"

Seconds later, the booster section shattered to shrapnel, parts tumbling, including the cargo arm.

"Ma'am?"

She wiped her forehead. "It's defanged—"

The vid whited out. Mi reflexively hugged Kyv. Ten mags out, a nuclear spawned sun faded to orange then red.

Kyv said, "Earth will see that."

"They pressed the button," their mother corrected. "Future May Ri's problem." She shuddered, sighed, and looked at Mi. Clutching Kyv. She grabbed Mi's ear and pulled her up.

"Ow! Ow!"

"Kyv? Are you married?"

"My wife died in the fighting when NADS took over."

"Girls. See what you get when you ask? Decath?"

"Is anybody still religious? After they crapped on the moon?"

"These two are serious. They're also adults. Mi!"

"Ow! Ow!"

"Mau?"

She got The Look and stood straight.

"Explain to him about consent and get it, both of you. Then about marriage, pods, nisei, and your expectations. Got it?" Waving at the embarrassed moonborne audience, "Them, too. So arriving crew won't cause problems."

Mau started breathing again.

May Ri discovered the moon wasn't devoid of women. 23, all with their tubes tied, forcibly, to 417 remaining men. They lived separately, in telescope and deep space network housing. When they voted to join the Sorority, the men agreed.

Soon parts of the DSN came up, including Sorority Prime, all narrowcast. NADS had isolated the dirigible station on Venus and the Long Term Titan Survey. May Ri spent more time as a diplomat listening to people vent than an engineer monitoring construction projects.

Thirty more vehicles launched toward Southhome; all quietly reduced to tumbling metal. May Ri thanked the ether for uncatalogued launch sites. Meanwhile, judging by actual ham radio traffic, Earth was losing its collective mind. Even readonly, the DSN became a rocket nozzle. If it weren't for the twins' insistence on finding "friends," they might have missed a missive in the torch.

"Raj has friends in the KJC," Kyv said. "Says the address looks good."

May Ri nodded, standing out of camera view. Kyv tapped and the vid cleared to show middle-aged and elderly men. Some balding. Asian features. Suits, two military with brass. A conference room. Scattered sitrep feeds. A simple white flag with a blue and red yin-yang sun. A man with dark eyes and hair bowed and spoke…

Mau said, "That's Japanese."

May Ri restrained her, so she translated where she stood. "We represent the Korea-Japan Confederacy. May we speak to the esteemed leader of the Lunar Republic?"

Kyv looked to May Ri. She whispered to Mau, who said, "Is this conversation private?" And, after an exchange of keys, it was. She added, "May we ask the matter at hand?"

"We politely wish to inquire with your friends about the status of an EM Mars colonial scientist named Yuki Īto."

"Reina's mom?" Mi asked quietly, now beside her twin. Both looked sad.

The hair on the back of May Ri's neck prickled. "We're supposed to make friends?"

"The KJC is not NADS' friend."

May Ri nodded.

"We're curious."

"Me, too."

With a RT of 8 minutes, which everyone understood, May Ri patched into Reina, giving a sitrep, before walking into view holding up her book plate.

[Translated]"Princess May Ri of Mars!" All those standing, bowed.

May Ri waved a hand in negation. "More of a joke than a title. I do what I can."

Reina started. "I am the Onēsanue of the Nisei. Yuki Īto died two days after the bombing of Herschel by our mutual enemy, from grief and sadness. Many mourn her. Why do you ask…?"

"Reconstructed war records indicate Yuki Īto was the last surviving child in the imperial line, daughter of Princess Sakura, daughter of the 131st Emperor of Japan, Ryohito…."

"I am Reina Īto. Yuki was my mother. She did tell stories about being adopted in the states after the war…"

All the men in the room stood. Those of Japanese heritage bowed deeper and longer, the spokesman saying, "I think our countries have a basis for alliance."

May and Mi said, "Isn't seeking friendship—" "—wonderful?" #RSMarsNeededWomen 30

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

Continued thread

2503.26 29/31 — Night #Writever #Mars #SpaceOpera

"You still insist the damage is consistent with meteor strikes?" the HighGo supervisor asked.

"I've matched V with the debris field." Kyv, the acting Lunar Territory COO sighed. "I've eyes on; the holes are irregularly sized. Not slugs! You don't believe me?"

"No vid feed."

"HighGo cut out our maintenance staff."

"RTFM. It's a coincidence International Earth Docks got hit in HEO and Earth LR Docks got hit in LO, but your Lunar Orbital didn't?"

"Yes."

"This won't fly. Out."

Kyv rubbed the bridge of his nose. The vid would have shown multiple angles of attack. Attack! He whispered, "Bad enough we're virtual slaves. Now NADS wants us as a scapegoat for some bogie that escaped their cage?"

Krump!

His transorbital shuddered, and he cringed. A meteor? While long range comms went solid red, ship-to-ship now blinked green. A survivor?

He tapped it. "LT-TO-1 here."

"Look outside." A young woman's voice said, before a collision warning went off.

A shadow that ate night swam in the stars, eclipsing tumbling metal and plastic. Faceted but rounded, it looked spidery as he squinted. A weak radar reflection screamed stealth, military—but nobody had rebuilt the deadly toys since the Orbital Reaping 35 years ago. Economics.

"Identify yourself," he said.

"Is she friend?" asked the voice. A second added, "Or is she foe?"

A third woman said, "Mau, Mi, stop that! Please deorbit to base. You'll find a gift there."

With LRCs down, what choice did he have? When he set down at Southhome Docks, a three story cylindrical package rested beside its tumbled over retrounit. The spider craft set down beside his and turned lunar grey.

"Invite us in."

The two… were they really teenage girls? They caught his eye, more than their spidery haystack automaton or the suited-up industrial robot holding a book plate toward them; suited because a man rode inside. Kyv saw no guns; he hoped. A sandy haired and black haired girl unzipped their suits and squatted provocatively with frog-like agility. He smelled rose.

One waved, saying, "We wanna make friends." The other added, "Are you excited about your gift?"

The book plate lit up. Kyv recognized the woman on vid. "The Princess of Mars and her Five Daughters!"

May Ri, in her alighter outside, watched the growing crowd of men, wiry, lightly muscled, androgynous for that, all moonborne, adapted to 1/6th gravity. No weapons. She sighed. "You saw the vid of the nuking of Hershel?"

Many nodded as Kyv said, "That viral 'hoax propaganda' that got us ordered to shut down the deep space network?"

"I now have four daughters."

He looked down. "To live is to be beaten up, or crapped upon."

"Please don't retransmit our visit."

"How would I explain you being here?"

"Or the 50 MW Thorium SMR I left on your tarmac?"

"A 'gift?'"

"Yeah," Mau said. The twins studied the handsome night-skinned moonborne leader, as he had them. Green eyes, white teeth, and a tight jumpsuit made a nice package. It explained Mi whispering, "Mars needs men."

May Ri quickly said, "With an offer to restore the Lunar Republic, or you can join the Sorority on Mars."

"In exchange for what?" he asked.

"Let us complete a project that would be detectable from your orbital—"

"The meteor shower?"

"Not natural, but you guessed that. We want you to overlook some escavation. The projects will protect the Moon and Mars."

"If we don't agree?"

"You lose your orbital, maybe take damage in the attacks if we're detected. You miss out on our friendship—and get to explain the SMR to your NADS overlord."

While he discussed it with the others, May Ri's comms squawked, "Vandeburg SFB just launched to polar, likely headed your way."

May Ri asked Kyv, "Are you expecting resupply?"

"This decade? Ha!"

"Explain this."

He peered at a vid of a tiny torch rising over cloud cover.

"Want to ask HighGo?"

When Kyv frowned, she said, "I snooped your HighGo convo; they distrust you. They've left you stranded because you can't live on Earth, which means they can't close up shop. I'll trust you to ask."

Nodding, Kyv tapped the address… and got a banner:

NADS Central Command
Your key is invalid.

"But… I've got a COO key!"

May Ri shared a squawk, "Confirmed its leaving Earth orbit," then showed a plot curving toward the lunar south pole. "A ballistic trajectory. They really distrust you."

"You're faking that."

Mau and Mi said, "Maybe she—"

"is. Maybe she—"

"—isn't?"

"Here's a freebie: Boost your orbital 1 km ASAP…"

"…Okay, we'll agree to your request. What about—"

"—that starship? On it. If we get it right, they'll blame a malfunction."

Mi walked up to Kyv with a real pen and paper. "Real friends sign contracts." #RSMarsNeededWomen 29

[Author retains copyright (c)2025 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing

1/Fantasy Microfic, short 🧵

The kid looked up at him with watery, frightened eyes. It might have been a girl or a boy. Or something else. It didn't really matter: it was kid and he was a 1200 year old Necromancer.

"Why did you save me? You're..."

"There is much ignorance, child," he said. "Without life, there is no death."

"Oh, th-thank you," the spawn said, and hugged itself. It was probably cold, or hungry. Some malady of the flesh. "Those bandits..."