Original Fiction

BLUE COLLAR ORIGINAL FICTION CONTEST: And the winner is...

Republibot 3.0's picture

Back in October, I think it was, we announced our first-ever first annual Original Fiction contest. The task was to write an original story that involved some blue-collar aspect of science fiction, something mundane, but vital, something that is generally unsung, but interesting.

The difficulties of beekeeping on an alien world, a garbage worker's strike in space, the paperwork aspects of being a time-traveling cop, whatever.

The plan was to run the stories on here, one a week, starting today, and let you, the readers, vote for your favorite.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Set Your Controls for the Heart of the Sun" by Richard Anderson

neorandomizer's picture

Mikhail Petrov sat in the command module of the Sundiver as it plunged toward the surface of the Sun. He looked at the readouts and fought the urge to do something - a slight adjustment here or there - but the automatic controls were working at one hundred percent efficiency. He now realized why so many back on Earth believed this to be an insane mission: flying into the center of the Sun to make a time-space jump to a new star system seem even incredible to him now that he was seconds from the Sun’s surface.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Where Shall I Keep My Heart If I Lack A Sleeve To Wear It On?" By Republbot 3.0 (2011)

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Where shall I keep my heart if I lack a sleeve to wear it on?

I was in love. Truly, madly, deeply, incorrigibly in love, for the first time in my life.

Granted, it was with a fifteen-foot-long two-ton farting extraterrestrial caterpillar, but, hey, it’s about more than looks, right? Which is a good thing, because, my God, she was ugly. The other night, we’d been sitting on the hillside inside the huge central garden of the ship, watching the stars slip by one of the equally-huge windows. She inchwormed towards me. “Wanna’ cuddle?” she fluted.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Whispers in the Void" by Keith Hamilton Cobb

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“You are the center of the wheel”, my father would speak into my ear as he rocked me to sleep in his arms on the nights that from among his wives my mother called him to come to her. “All things revolve about you. You are the only god; your strength the greatest strength; your arm the fellest arm.” These words he whispered even as his massive biceps pressed me about the ribs restraining my breath, and my head rested no differently than some fragile paper thing, unarguably crushable in the gulf of his huge hand.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Monastery of Blood (Part 3)" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0 and Paula Tabor

Republibot 3.0's picture

PLEASE NOTE: This is part three of a four-part story. Part 1 is online here http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-bob-and-monastery-blo... and Part 2 is online here http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-bob-and-monastery-blo...

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“Storm’s a-comin,” one of the ranchers told me. Monsoon season was about to begin in the north, which meant more Kirby swarms. For the past couple days, we and Saint Salome’s had been taking in families to protect them.

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ORIGINAL FICTION: "Bob and the Monastery of Blood (Part 2)" by Republibots 2.0 and 3.0 and Paula Tabor

Republibot 3.0's picture

PLEASE NOTE: This is part 2 of a 4-part story. Part 1 is online here: http://www.republibot.com/content/original-fiction-bob-and-monastery-blo...

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I was flying low in my paraglider, there was wreckage of a paraglider on the ground. A trail of smoke let from my plane to the wreckage. “Know this before you die,” I said…

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