“It was those luddites,” Heldeb grumbled. “They’ve got themselves some new old-fashioned contraption. An impossibly loud one.”
These remarks were directed toward a nebrium-plated breakfast droid, which, detecting Heldeb’s frustration, extended two shiny pseudopods to rub his temples.
By degrees the sunlight reached through an unprismed habi-dome window, illuminating an analog selenometer: Piv, waxing crescent; Hed, third quarter; Fewkalek, waxing gibbous. Then the sun shone on the edge of an old-fashioned bed, with old-fashioned Cadëxial silk sheets over an old-fashioned eidetic foam mattress. Tangled in the sheets were two old-fashioned data enthusiasts.
Radix awoke first.
Vilt landed his ungraceful vessel with a veteran freighter’s careful hand, despite the relative worthlessness of his cargo. It was midnight on the planet Gich.
“Are we there yet?” squawked the cargo. It was a long-outmoded data entry robot, purchased on the interplanetary vintage robot exchange by a pair of Gichian luddite data enthusiasts. Its designation was ¶‡◊.
A Twitter Novel. By Ryan Veeder. Copyright Ryan Veeder MMXIV.
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Piol of Gich wiped the blood from her pearly sword and sighed.
“I still have so many enemies left,” she wept, “no matter how many I kill.”
Piv, the first moon of Gich, floated overhead. It was yellow-green.
Piol uttered an ancient Gichian curse over the corpses of the Fik-folk she had defeated. Then she looked in their wallets.
“Hmm,” she said.
According to their orbiter tickets, these Fik-folk were en route to Hed, the second moon of Gich.
“You won’t be needing these,” said Piol.
“I’ll use these to fly myself to Hed, where I can kill even more of those Fik-folk,” she said aloud.
“You won’t,” said a voice behind her.
Piol turned around to see Detective Ff.
“I have a warrant for your arrest,” Ff intoned. “You are wanted for 1,213 homicides.”
Piol spat.
“I am authorized to use deadly force should you resist,” warned Ff.
“You can certainly try your best…” Piol smirked, drawing her sword.
Detective Ff, recognizing the weapon, deployed its multimissiles. Piol exploded, her pearly sword shattered to microscopic bits.
“I’m only a police robot,” Ff thought to itself, “so I can never know love. But if I could, what I would love most is blowing up murderers.”
On the horizon, a violet ghost slowly ascended—Fewkalek, the third moon of Gich. Detective Ff collapsed into space and disappeared.
THE END
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