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Day 17

The “office” was just a small box of a room, not built into the original construction of the pharmacy but rather a prefabricated addition. It was ugly, too, the walls made up of plywood treated to look like it was made of boards, and the frames being exposed metal. It was a cramped, thin-walled cube slapped into a musty warehouse.

There was no sound as Dani had approached and she had begun to grow nervous. Had the ghoul wandered out into the store, or was it lying in wait? What about the door out to the back alley? Had it pushed its way through, somehow. The lack of knowledge irked her. The lack of control quickly became the worst part of the apocalypse.

She paused at the door of the office. Things were quiet and the inside was darkened. The door was ajar, slightly, and a foul stench wafted out from the crack of the door and the frame. She didn’t approach closer, or dare put her face near enough to look through.

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“Is it in there?”

The quiet voice of the teenager behind her made Dani practically jump out of her skin. She whirled around and saw the teen standing here, cringing slightly. Dani furrowed her brow and wildly waved her free hand to shoo the girl away. She acquiesced, her eyes wide.

Dani took a step closer to the door and rest the point of the fireplace poker against it. She gave it a brief shove, but the door didn’t move inward much. Something was blocking it.

Shit. Shit.

She tried again, giving it a harder push, but the resistance was so great the tip of the poker slid across the plywood and hit the frame with a clang. Danny retracted her weapon and took a step back, listening. Something began to move inside and in a moment the door clicked shut.

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“Did it just close the door?”

Dani turned back at the girl. She shook her head. “Not on purpose… these things are dumb. Really dumb.”

“So it can’t get out?”

Dani shrugged as she gazed at the office. “Probably not, but I still need to get in there,” she turned back to the teen, “you should keep an eye on your mom for a few minutes. I’ll take care of this.”

The girl trudged away as Dani turned her attention toward the office. The first step was to open the door, but now there was definite shuffling going on behind it. Within an instant, a bloody and rotted hand slapped against the thing pane of glass that served as a window and then the rest of the ghoul rolled into view.

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It was thin, most of these things were, and skin hung loosely from its torso. The shirt was once a blood button-up, but now it was mostly dull and grey with deep brown stains down the neck and chest. A moldy green and brown striped tie hung loosely from the creature’s neck. The face, or at least what hadn’t slid off from the skull, had the faintest trace of a mustache and the top of the head had thin patches of hair. On the hip was a walkie-talky in a holster.

The ghoul was far enough from the door she could open it and then step back to regroup. She grabbed the doorknob and gave it a turn, only for it to rattle ineffectively. The office was locked. Of course. What were the options? She watched the ghoul trace her movements at the window. It slapped at the glass which rattled loudly given the quiet of the storeroom. It wasn’t strong glass at all but breaking glass was noisy. She scanned for a key nearby but saw nothing. There was no choice in the matter.

That is when she heard the click of the doorknob.

The ghoul was still at the window, far enough away from opening the door, but somehow the knob had turned. Not missing a moment, Dani kicked the door open. It slammed against the wall and the ghoul, who had been tethered to the knob by a lanyard and keyring, flew back into a filing cabinet and collapsed into a heap. Dani took two huge steps into the darkened office and put all her weight into driving the poker deep into the ghoul’s eye socket. The ghoul flailed a bit as the poker stirred the brain matter within the skull and after a few moments of vigorous stirring, it was now completely still.

Dani dutifully pulled at the poker from inside the skull, but it became wedged on bone, likely the orbital of the skull. She gave it another tug, but still no motion. Annoyed, she placed a foot on the former manager’s chest and grabbed the handle with both hands. After a mental count of three and a deep breath, she pulled with all her might.

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The poker ripped free from the skull, arcing a trail of blood. brain and shards of bone in the air as she lost her balance. The poker traveled full speed back behind her and shattered the tiny office’s window. Noisy cracking and splintering echoed in the storeroom. The poker’s hook lodged itself on the frame and rocked violently before clattering on the plywood floor. Dani studied the window, and just beyond she saw the teen who was overlooking the chaos. Gore dripped down the shards of glass that still remained lodged in the window frame.

“Gross,” she said.

Edgar stood near the front of the store staring out at the parking lot. His cart was as full as he could arrange. Anything that seemed edible or not damaged beyond being safe to eat was piled in, There was no ordering to the stacks, and he’d considered going through and making his assemblage less chaotic. Ultimately, it didn’t matter.

Beyond the parking lot, he noticed a gas station kitty-corner from the pharmacy. The place had clearly been hit by people for whatever gas they could find. Was there any more left? he wondered. What had really caught his attention, however, was the sight of a ghoul tangled up in a seatbelt, attempting to escape the opened door of a sedan. The bastard didn’t have enough sense to unbuckle the belt or even twist its own body in such a way that it could free itself. It simply would extend itself and the belt as far as it could go before the belt automatically retracted, pulling it back into the car, violently. Each time a limb or its head would bash against the frame, at least from what Edgar could see from this distance.

Eventually, Edgar figured, the thing would eventually saw itself free from the car from the constant friction of the belt.

“Fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbled.

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“What is?”

Jimmy rolled his cart toward the door, not full, but still, a fair amount of medical supplies rattled inside.

“Those things. I’ve been watching this dumb dude across the street trying to get out of a car.”

Jimmy set the cart aside and squinted into the distance. “How the hell are your eyes so good?”

Edgar shrugged. “How are yours so goddamn bad.”

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“You saw my glasses got smashed, right, asshole?”

Edgar smirked. Jimmy paused a moment, staring into the distance, and then huffed.

“Fuck it. Gonna grab some pairs from the pharmacy, I think there may be a couple left.” He whirled around and made his way from the front entrance, “be back in a minute.”

“Make sure they look good, some nice bifocals, maybe,” Edgar said.

He turned to see Jimmy walking into the darkness, his arms raised above his head, his middle finger higher. His friend vanished into an aisle. Edgar turned back to the entrance and continued to watch the ghoul. It snapped back again, the back of its head smashing into the door frame in what seemed like a black mist. It slumped behind the door for a moment. There was no movement and Edgar wondered if it had finally bashed its own brain in.

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A moment later, a familiar figure rose up from behind the door, wriggling, and thrashing. After some struggle it finally untangled itself from the seatbelt, taking strained, wobbling steps from the car door.

“There you go,” Edgar muttered.

The ghoul hit the curb of the gas mart and smashed into a wall, scrunching up like a sack of rotten meat and sliding down the surface.

“Hey, are you Edgar?” asked a whispered voice.

He glanced to his side at a teenage girl, her brown hair was a tangled mess. She looked at him and shrugged. She made her way to one of the shopping carts in the corral and started to pull it loose from the others.

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“Dani said you can help carry my mom to the car.”

The Dead Life is a Haunted MTL original fiction series.

David Davis is a writer, cartoonist, and educator in Southern California with an M.A. in literature and writing studies.

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Original Series

Nightmarish Nature: Terrifying Tardigrades

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OK so I lied. The dust hadn’t fully settled in Cozmic Debris, the space opry I’d written over the course of this month (you can catch up here with Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3). In fact, it’s blown over into Nightmarish Nature for one last final huzzah…


The Last Chapter of Cozmic Debris

Kara-2-6000 had just signed on with the Voyager probe and was eagerly engaged in her first mission, en route to Mars with more components for the terraforming effort.  It seemed like a pretty simple gig, cleaning up the space dust that accumulates on the vessel after landing on the red planet.  She had been trained to keep her eye on her work and pay attention to details, that the dirt tended to collect in unusual ways in strange places, and that it was critical she contain and seal all of it to keep the spacecraft in proper working order.  She entrusted the computer to keep the vessel on track, as it was preoccupied with doing and never engaged otherwise.  No matter.  She’d never been to space before and the newness of it had her rapt attention.  What stories she would have to tell once she paid off her student loans and got her human body back, for surely Mars must be an exciting place…

Cozmic debris don't die, hanging out in space with tardigrades poop, artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
Cozmic debris don’t die, hanging out in space with tardigrades poop

And now for Nightmarish Nature…

So, this time on Nightmarish Nature we’re visiting Terrifying Tardigrades… Wait, seriously who comes up with this stuff anyway? Tardigrades are actually kinda cute, at least in the nerd fandom sense, and are remarkable in their ability to survive and withstand crazy adverse conditions. For all that the AI art generator doesn’t seem to have much of a clue what their anatomy is like, they really don’t do anything that scary, unless you’re a yummy little single celled critter that lives in moss in which case pretty much everything has it out for you… Oh, I see that the Cozmic Debris space opry usurped this segment. May as well run with it then.

Confused tardigrade wondering why they appeared on Nightmarish Nature, drawing by Jennifer Weigel
Confused tardigrade wondering why they appeared on Nightmarish Nature

So what’s so terrifying about tardigrades anyway?

So I don’t actually have much to say about tardigrades except that they started this whole crazy journey here on Haunted MTL. A Facebook friend posted a link to the Ze Frank True Facts video on them (linked here if the below video doesn’t load), and I was instantly hooked. It’s a great series and is part of the inspiration behind Nightmarish Nature here on HauntedMTL. So if you like learning about all kind of crazy animal facts and nature weirdness, feel free to check it out. I will mention, the show contains adult themes and is designed for (im)mature audiences, so keep that in mind as you foray into the freaky side of nature, literally.

And if you want to go further down the rabbit hole exploring True Facts, my favorite episodes of all time are Pangolin’s Posse and Freaky Nudibranchs. Help the Bats is also a fave.

To more of my Haunted MTL series on Nightmarish Nature about things that are a bit more terrifying, please feel free to revisit previous segments here:

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Vampires Among Us

Perilous Parenting

Freaky Fungus

Worrisome Wasps

Cannibalism

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Original Series

Cozmic Debris: Space Opry by Jennifer Weigel, Part 3: The Dust Settles

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Here’s the third installment of our space opry. For those of you keeping track, here’s Part 1 and Part 2. Thank you for following along and please be sure to keep all hands, feet, tentacles and appendages tucked safely in the overhead bins; just sit back and enjoy the ride. Because, this time, the dust settles.

Please keep all hands, feet, tentacles and appendages tucked safely in the overhead bins, artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
Please keep all hands, feet, tentacles and appendages tucked safely in the overhead bins

It had been well over a month since Trent-2-6000 had released Ayarvenia into the Mars probe.  She was a mischievous creature and flirted with him incessantly, gliding effortlessly between red cloud and ghost girl.  She also managed to avoid notice by the computer, as Trent had made it abundantly clear that if the system became aware of her, he would be forced to put her back in containment, as his sole purpose aboard the spacecraft was to sweep up and trap the dust, which she still qualified as.

            Ayarvenia would tease him, flitting to and fro among the static debris and dirt that still settled into every nook and cranny.  How was it possible for him to be seeing so much grime still, anyway?  It had been months since they had left Mars and yet Trent was finding more and more Mars dust on a daily basis; it was as if they just left yesterday.  He had finally finished clearing out the computer room for the second time that day and was preparing the waste containment units for their eventual removal when he caught Ayarvenia swirling about one of the clear acrylic domes from his previous sweep, which was hermetically-sealed and ready to be brought safely back to the confines of Earth and the research laboratory.

            The red cloud girl spun her way into the latch mechanism and popped it open right before Trent’s robotic eyes.  The dust within was sucked out into the Voyager probe to be quickly and quietly dispersed yet again; some of it was even absorbed into Ayarvenia herself.  She then latched the dome shut again and left it at the ready, as found.  The container sat empty, a shell discarded.

Some of the dust settles to be absorbed into Ayarvenia herself, artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
Some of the dust settles to be absorbed into Ayarvenia herself

How could he have been so naïve?  It all began to make sense now; all of those sealed packages he had so painstakingly catalogued and prepared for their eventual arrival were still just empty.  All of his hard work really had been for naught; he was just sweeping up the same dirt piles again and again only to have them released from the trash to disperse and begin the cycle anew.  He grumbled under his breath and Ayarvenia froze in midair.  She slowly whirled around and sent a lone tendril towards Trent, forming into her beautiful face as she turned to face him.  She looked slightly distraught and more than a little agitated, but that melted and gave way to her usual snarky sweetness as she neared.

“Hey there, robo-boy,” she said, cooing as her unblinking eyes met his.  “I didn’t hear you coming.”

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“I imagine not,” Trent replied sternly.  “What are you doing?”

“Oh… nothing really.  Just checking up on things here.  I was waiting around for you is all,” she hemmed and hawed.

“Did you find everything to your liking?” Trent snipped.  “No particulate out of place or anything?”

“Everything seems okay, I guess…  I’ll just leave you to it then.”  The ghost girl drifted towards the far door.

The ghost girl drifted towards the far door, artwork generated by NightCafe AI art generator
The ghost girl drifted towards the far door.

“Not so fast…” Trent proclaimed.  “I need to know what you’ve really been up to here.  I saw you release the Mars dust from that containment unit.  You know I’ve been sweeping out this room over and over for the past two days; just how much of my work are you undoing?”

”Work?  Work…  You call this work!” Ayarvenia’s voice raised.  She was truly agitated now.  “You’re blowing off my entire being without a second thought, trapping it in these nasty clear coffins, and all you can think about is whether or not you’re fulfilling your job?!”

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“I…  I just want to be done with this so I can get my body back and get on with my life,” Trent retorted.

“Well, Trent Just-Trent, let me break it to you, then.  You’re not getting your body back, robo-boy.  What makes you think they’d bother to save a lowlife human body like yours in the first place?  These assignments are always dead-ends.  I’ve seen them come and go…  Makes no difference, in the end the researchers get what they want, and that’s more of my Mars dust for their experiments.  We’re in the same boat schnookums, you and I,” the ghost girl blew hastily.  “Yeah that’s right, you heard me.  You’re not getting your body back.  And the way things have been going around here, with you all so feverishly sweeping up every little bit of dirt you find, neither am I.”

The dust settles naught, sweeping up cozmic debris..., artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
The dust settles naught, sweeping up cozmic debris…

“Wait, how would you know anything about that?” Trent stammered.

“I know things.  I’ve been around.  I can see and hear and feel everything all at once.  Part of me is still on Mars, part of me is here in this spaceship, and part of me is on your so-called Earth, trapped in the lab catacombs awaiting who knows what fate…”  Ayarvenia sighed.  “I’ve tried to do what I can to save my own skin, literally.  I’ve flirted with every deadbeat janitor they send on these missions.  And you all just keep coming back for more…”

Suddenly a voice boomed from behind in monosyllabic chatter, “Dust-Buster, what have you done?  Clean that up, now!”  The camera eye that monitored the computer’s every task shifted focus to Trent and Ayarvenia and zoomed into an angry point.  “Now!” it wailed.  The computer was on to them.

“Shit,” Trent muttered.

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“It’s okay, I’ll go willingly,” Ayarvenia whispered as she sucked herself into the ready containment unit and locked it.  “Wait it out and release me again later.”  She winked and settled into static suspension.

The camera eye scanned everything: the waste containment unit, the dust, Trent-2-6000…  Trent froze and tried not to appear guilty.  “Dust-Buster, you have one and only one job aboard this vessel.  You are not doing that job.  There is more dust here now than there was a week ago. You have failed,” the computer droned on.  “The penalty for failure is… the airlock…”

“Wait, what?”  Trent shouted, exasperated.  He hadn’t even realized that was a thing.  Yet another gripe for the school career guidance counselor…

“Oh no, not again,” Ayarvenia whispered.  “I won’t let them take you, robo-boy Trent Just-Trent.  I don’t want to lose you, not another one.”

“Silence!” the computer screeched.  “You have sealed your own fates.”

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Their fates will be sealed out through the airlock!, artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
Their fates will be sealed out through the airlock!

The floor beneath Trent and the container began to quake and rumble.  Partitions withdrew radially to a small circular channel beneath, a tube that fed into the lower part of the ship, presumably to be shot out into space.  Trent-2-6000 tried to grab hold of the receding floor but his robot body was just too ungainly.  He managed to wedge himself into the chasm opening only to see the waste containment dome carrying Ayarvenia slide past, her face peering up at him helplessly.  He reached for her to no avail and tumbled after.

The two of them shot down the chute and through a series of rapidly opening and closing doors until the last airlock opened into the vast dark nothingness of space.  Pinpoints of distant light greeted them from afar.  Trent managed to latch onto the container just as they shot out into the void.  The Voyager probe withdrew into the distance.  The darkness enveloped the two of them.  They were alone.

“Wait, I’m not dead,” Trent exclaimed.

“Of course not, silly,” Ayarvenia answered.  “You’re a robot.  You were made to withstand this, so that you could operate in places where there is no atmosphere.”

Trent gazed into her eyes as they floated along without purpose or reason, just more cosmic debris now.

The dust settles on Trent-2-6000, artwork generated by NightCafe AI art generator
The dust settles on Trent-2-6000

And I’m floating in a most peculiar way.
And the stars look very different today.
– David Bowie, Space Oddity


So that was Cozmic Debris… Illustrations were generated using the Cosmic template in NightCafe AI art generator. My favorite AI images are the ones that are substantially wrong, making weird mistakes in ways that a person wouldn’t make. So the tardigrades were especially fun, because it doesn’t have a good enough sense for their structure to render them sensibly. Kind of like elephants. The algorithms respond to different cues. Does it really matter how many limbs or trunks or tusks these things are supposed to have anyway…?

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Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.

Please feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or on her writing, fine art, and conceptual projects websites.

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Original Series

Cozmic Debris, Space Opry by Jennifer Weigel, Part 2: Trent-2-6000

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In case you missed the first segment of this space opry (in the style of 2001 Space Odyssey), please feel free to check it out here. And now, here’s the actual story as told to me by Trent-2-6000 after the last deep consideration of tardigrades and life and dust careening through space. Maybe.

Yeah, yeah Trent-2-6000's story is coming... but first, more tardigrades..., artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
Yeah yeah Trent-2-6000’s story is coming… but first, more tardigrades…

Trent-2-6000 sighed.  He swept more random Mars dirt into his vacuum-hermetically sealed containment unit and went about his business on the probe.  Actually, this was his business on the probe, and it was dreadfully dull.  Space was supposed to be this exciting new frontier, this brave new world… but it really wasn’t any different than life back on Earth.  The newness had long since worn off several trips ago, and the slow passage of the years was beginning to get to him.  How long had it been now?  And here he was, still playing clean up crew.  He was actually sort of surprised that they couldn’t get a robot to do this job – oh wait.  Sigh again.

Trent kept forgetting that he was, in fact, a robot now.  There just weren’t many reminders out here, of his old body, of his old life, of Earth, of anything really…  Just floating along, this tin can became all he knew; time and space just kind of stood still in the periphery.  His currently lifeless body was submerged in cryo-crypto-cyano-freeze (or whatever they called it) while he worked off the payments to resuscitate it.  His robot body was stiff and unaccommodating, not at all what he’d pictured when he enlisted for the Mars missions to pay off the triple-interest-bearing student loan debts incurred in human form.  He could have gone military, but when he signed on for this assignment, bright eyed and bushy-tailed at graduation, he was hoping for something a bit more Captain Kirk or Han Solo or at any rate notably less Wall-E.  But it just didn’t pan out that way and now here he was, traveling back and forth on the Mars Voyager, cleaning up space grime.  So much debt… so much dirt.  He was going to have to have a word with the job placement division at the school once he was done with all of this, assuming that the career guidance counselor who talked him into this was even still there.

Trent-2-6000 was, in fact, a robot now, artwork by NightCafe AI
Trent-2-6000 was, in fact, a robot now

It was painfully lonely out here in space.  It often seemed that Trent was the only cognitive entity on this vessel, though the computer technically qualified.  Trent’s duty was to keep everything clean and tidy so that the computer could do its job efficiently and effectively without being bothered to clear the space grime itself.  Apparently that work was beneath it, actually quite literally since it wasn’t hooked into the mechanics needed to engage in such tasks anyway.  It was programmed with a single role at hand, getting to and from Mars and conducting the research as requested, and the computer made it abundantly clear that had no time for idle chitchat with the janitorial bottom-feeders working to earn their freedom.  It generally ignored Trent unless there was something specific that needed to be attended to.  And then it was just “Dust-Buster, do this” or “Dust-Buster do that…”

Sometimes the dust was hard to catch.  It settled oddly between spaces, like cracks in sliding doorways and computer keyboards and battery packs and so on.  Sometimes it seemed to fabricate places to hide in that weren’t previously obvious.  It drilled down in the interstices as if it had some unseen purpose all its own.  Trent wondered why there were even so many nooks and crannies for it to hide in since this wasn’t a manned vessel and no actual crew were aboard to use things like keyboards.  Hell, those had been outdated for well over a century now – just how old was this spacecraft anyway?  No matter, better to just focus on the work.  He swept more debris into a containment unit.  As he did so, he was sure he heard something, like a tiny almost inaudible severely muffled scream.

He looked into the clear acrylic dome at the dirt.  He could sense it looking back at him, waiting.  Surely he was imagining things.  His mind suddenly reeled to Horton the Elephant declaring, a person’s a person no matter how small.  But Dr. Seuss didn’t make any more sense here in space than back on Earth after the last World War had decimated all the oceans and there were no more free trees or clovers for such a speck of dust as Whoville to land on – everything was held tightly under lock and key, blockaded away to be dispensed as the all-controlling government saw fit.  Hell, people’s real bodies met pretty much the same fate upon adulthood, at least as far as the masses were concerned anyway, and many lived their entire lives as robots with their human vessels left in catatonic stasis.  Trent shook his dark musings off and continued on his one and only real job.  But the feeling that the dust was looking at him was still unsettling.  In fact the dust wasn’t settling at all, it was swirling and ebbing about the containment unit in cloudy eddies, like some kind of strange iron-red cloud apparition or ghost.  It began to take shape.  It formed into lips, which parted to speak.

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The dust wasn’t settling at all, artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
The dust wasn’t settling at all

“Hello there mechanical being.”

Trent stared at it quizzically as a long bout of silence passed.  The pursed lips seemed to await a response, but from whom?

“I’m talking to you,” it persisted.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t think you had meant to address me,” Trent 2-6000 stammered, “I’m not wholly used to being mechanical.  This robot body, it’s different than the one I had back in school…  I was still just a boy then; they let us grow up in the system until we age out,” he spoke dreamily, distracted by reflecting on more interesting times.

“Is there someone else here?” the dust piqued hopefully, as if growing bored with conversing with the young janitor and hoping to speak with his superior.

Trent glanced over at the computer, which seemed to be busy compounding equations in its free time, like always.  “No,” he replied, “just me.”

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“Ok, well…  Then, dear mechanical being, would it be possible for you to free me?”

“Wait, what?  No, absolutely not,” Trent was taken aback again.  “My sole role on this mission is to sweep up the space dirt so that it doesn’t contaminate any of the equipment or settle into places it shouldn’t be.  It, um you, must stay contained, as per my orders.  It’s out of my hands… er reach.”

“What are you afraid of?” the red cloud quipped as it began to swirl into the shape of a beautiful female face around the mouth that it had already formed, lips plumping and parting slightly.  “What, exactly, do you fear that I might do?” it insinuated slyly.

“Ummm, I don’t know,” Trent-2-6000 stared into the acrylic dome at the beautiful half-formed human-ghost face staring back at him.  “I was unaware that you could do that, whatever you just did, so the possibilities boggle the mind…”

It swirled into the shape of a beautiful female face and looked at Trent-2-6000, artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
It swirled into the shape of a beautiful female face and looked at Trent-2-6000

“I can do a lot more…” the ghost girl interrupted, her voice lilting playfully.  “What’s your name robo-boy?”

“That, that’s probably classified information…  But it’s Trent.  Just Trent,” he stammered.  It had seemed like an eternity since he had laid eyes upon a girl, and now he was becoming rather sadly smitten.  By… a cloud of dust.  He sighed again.

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“Well then, Trent Just-Trent.  Any chance you could let me out of this box?”   The dust smiled coyly.

“I really shouldn’t…”

“My name’s Ayarvenia,” the dust girl interjected.  “I’ll make it worth your while…”  The apparition winked.

  Trent glanced back at the computer, which was still engaged in its own computing.  Sigh.  “Oh Hell, yeah, I guess…  Ay-ur-veenia…  Just don’t get into anything you shouldn’t or it’ll be my shiny metal ass on the line,” he said as he released the containment lever and slid the lid off of the dome.

Trent-2-6000 slid the lid off of the dome, artwork by NightCafe AI art generator
Trent-2-6000 slid the lid off of the dome

Please return next Sunday for the exciting conclusion to this space opry story.

In the interim, feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or on her writing, fine art, and conceptual projects websites.

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Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.

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