TL;DR - Write using a random Sub-genre, Setting, and Element. Due in a week. 1000 words max. Post a link in the comments if you want.
This was a challenge from 2012 that asked you to choose a sub-genre, a setting, and an element to include, all at random, from three lists. The choices were:
Subgenre: Paranormal Romance, Cyberpunk, Splatterpunk, Ghost Story, Space Opera, Alternative History, Lovecraftian, BDSM Erotica, Murder Mystery, Superhero
Setting: A Brothel, A Space Station, Bottom of the Ocean, Inside a Massively-Multiplayer Game, Wal-Mart, Hell, The Hollow Earth, The Zoo, In a Vehicle Traveling Down the Highway, Paris (1944)
Element to Include: Weapons of Mass Destruction, A Funeral, Adultery, A Robot, Amnesia, A Fashion Show, A Dragon, Some Kind of Alien Virus or Parasite, Tattoos, Cloning
Lots of choices, lots of opportunities to stray from your normal ‘safe’ writing. I took Ghost Story, Inside a MMG, and cloning. I liked the resulting story so much so that I used it as a seed for a NaNoWriMo novel in 2013.
That novel is still just a draft. I did get to the end, but it needs a lot of work. I like the characters and the several subplots and conflicts. The AI part will need to be updated, of course, but that’s easy.
What do you think? Would you like this as a novel? And suggestions on where the story goes?
My story is below, 1042 words
The Ghost in the Machine
“More coffee, hon?”
“Thanks, dear—wait—what did you say?”
“Greetings, sir, your order?”
The voice from the drive-through speaker was now harsh and brittle, but he could have sworn it had sounded like his wife—her tone, her familiar words.
“Extra-large double-double and a honey cruller.”
“Thank you, your order will be at the pickup window.”
His Maria had only been gone a few months now. He still would wake up at night, thinking he heard her call his name. It was always just an empty room, fan sighing in the corner, faint glow of his phone next to him on the bedside table, right next to her old phone. They’d bought them together last fall, lining up for hours for the latest model. They’d programmed them together, entered all their personal data, their likes and dislikes. They even got the latest iHear headsets, with a miniature throat mike under the skin and bone-conduction earpiece, so they could talk more privately. These latest phones were connected to their calendars, emails, contacts, social media —everything. The more they use them, the more the devices seem to anticipate their every need. He and his wife often had to work opposite shifts, so they would often be talking via the iHear headsets, or sharing photos, or texting, or recording for iWords. This latest model would learn from your usage and interactions, and use its database to assemble the appropriate messages for different situations and people. It was almost spooky to hear it at first, you’d swear it was the other person actually calling.
“Your coffee, sir.”
He nodded to the server as he took his coffee. As his phone pinged with payment, he rolled up the window and took a sip—perfect, of course.
“Tell Tammy I’m on my way home.” He didn’t really want to talk with his daughter; the phone would take care of that and phrase something appropriate. She seemed to adjust better than he to her mother’s death, and was always gently nudging him to move on, to start letting go. He didn’t want to let go.
That night, he woke again, Maria’s voice an echo in his mind.
He called out in despair, “Maria, I wish you could know how much I miss you.”
He listened to the fan as it whirred in the corner.
“I miss you too, Pedro”.
He sat up. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, silly.” The voice was coming from his phone, through his headset.
“Maria? Are you there? Wait, you died! This must be just the AI talking, but it’s scary now.” He grabbed his phone. “I need to turn this off”.
“Wait,” she said. “Do I sound like an AI?”
He paused. “Well, a lot better than the current version is supposed to be. But you’re you, and here?”
“Yes, hon,” she said. “Although I’m not really sure where ‘here’ is. It’s dark, but I can hear a fan, and you, of course. There’s a sort of glow around me, and a glowy things next to me.”
“Glowy things?” he asked’
“I know, not very technical. I can see little coloured threads heading off into the darkness too, a lot to this thing next to me, but others off to other ‘things’ – sorry Pedro, it’s confusing.“
He turned on the light.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s our bedroom ceiling. Pedro, I seem to be in my phone. How’s Tammy?”
“Tammy! Yes, ask her yourself,” he said. He grabbed both phones and rushed into his daughter’s room.
“Tammy, it’s your mom. She’s back—sort of. Listen.”
“What?” His daughter opened one eye. ‘Dad. you were dreaming again.”
“Maria, say something,” he said.
“Tammy, how are you sweetie?” said Maria.
Tammy looked at him blankly. “Sorry, Dad, nothing.”
“But I can hear her.”
“Dad, she’s gone. You’re imagining things. Or it’s a glitch in that weird headset thing.”
He tried again. He could hear Maria, but Tammy still couldn’t.
“Go back to bed,” said Maria. “You’re scaring her. We’ll figure something out.”
The next morning at breakfast, before Tammy could say anything, he told her about having some weird dream about Maria, but that he couldn’t remember any details.
“Well, it was certainly strange, you were going on like you’d seen a ghost or something. But you seem happier this morning than I’ve seen you in months.”
Pedro did feel happy. He finished his coffee, gave Tammy a hug, patted his pocket to make sure his phone was there, and headed to work.
“She seemed OK,” said Maria.
“You can see her?” said Pedro.
“Hear her, through your phone,” said Maria.
The day just seemed to float by. He and Maria chatted off and on, about everything, about nothing, about the Federal election, about Tammy’s marks, about his next project, about the choices on the lunch menu. By the time Tammy got home from her late class, he’d made supper and done a quick cleanup of the living room.
He smiled as she walked in, “Ta-da!”
“Hey, my dad’s back,” she said. She gave him a big hug. “Smells yummy, let’s eat.”
The next days felt like a new start in life for him. His friends at work had been surprised at his new attitude, too, so they took him out to lunch to celebrate. When he finally got back to his office, he sat back and smiled—life was good.
“Hey Maria, how about that lunch? Nice guys, eh?”
Silence.
“Maria? Hello?”
Nothing. He checked his phone, and it seemed to be fine—powered up and online. Maria’s should be OK, as it was always plugged in next to his bed. Maybe it was some kind of network problem.
As soon as he got home that night, he rushed into his bedroom. His bedside table was bare, except for a note.
“Dad, it’s been so great to see you happy again. I know losing mom has been hard on you. I was really worried for a while. It’s had to start letting go too, so I thought I’d give you a start. I took mom’s old phone back to the store—they’ll wipe it and then recycle it to a local women’s shelter. I think she’d have liked that better than having it just sitting on the table doing nothing. Love and hugs, Tammy.”