Cognitive Surrender - Flash Fiction
Horror flash fiction about submission to technology (600 words).
A watercolorist’s brush had soaked the vast expanse of the highway with aureolin yellow. Beyond the guardrails, opaque darkness. The car, alone on the ribbon of asphalt, demonstrated its unwavering power, parallel to a spine of lampposts. Driver and passenger stared wide-eyed, fighting off the nocturnal boredom that threatened to make their heads bob on their chest. The luminous cocoon was so enveloping that they had not even thought to put on any music, and the interior, filled with an overstuffed stillness, received the cheerful female voice like a dissonant rustle. The couple jumped at this disturbance. “In 200 yards, turn right for exit 23.”
They greeted the GPS’s unexpected intervention with incredulous laughter. They knew the way home; straight ahead. The driver, with a smirk, nevertheless put his turn signal. “If the GPS says so...” They took the exit. “Take the left ramp to join the highway.” The steering wheel, obediently, took them back onto their original route, and they chuckled nervously at this technological absurdity. The year was 2009.
The curtain of rain droned behind the glass walls, communicating its wintry obsidian to them. A disoriented fly buzzed against the bare lightbulb in the entryway, while the father struggled with the child to take off her wet coat. She flew shrieking toward her room, and, knackered, he turned towards his wife’s silhouette, which stood out in the somber space thanks to the aquarium beam of her screen. “The teacher wants us to bake a cake for tomorrow’s birthday party. She said three children are allergic to nuts.” His wife continued to scroll, without looking up. When he closed their bedroom door behind him, he heard her voice moaning indolently in the kitchen. “Alyssa, find me a recipe for a nut-free cake to make in our food processor.” A categorical, suave voice rang out. “This pistachio cake will be perfect, especially with twenty-three sparklers!”
A twinge of doubt twisted his solar plexus as he slumped onto the bed, but the latest streaming series brushed it away without delay. He spoke of his binge-watching with excessive excitement to the other parents the next day, the sparkling and crackling columns concealing the children’s chases. Three of them fell like flies, amidst an imperceptible smell of a burning ceiling. The year was 2019.
The wall of orange flames undulated around the edge of the dark garden, drawing closer to the peaceful surface of the pool, where the moon did not budge. The smoke irritated their throats and eyes, but they kept the French doors open, arms dangling. In a flash of burnt fur, a fox darted between their legs, and they heard the hysterical clatter of its claws on the porcelain bathtub. The girl looked at her parents, her face devoid of color. The father grabbed his phone and typed. “JabberAI, is it safe to leave your house during a fire?”
The small silver wheel spun across the screen, and a message appeared. “Excellent question! It is perfectly safe to leave your house, provided you run very fast, because the air movement will lower the temperature of the flames to 23 degrees!” The parents patted their child on the head. “Come on, don’t be scared, you just have to run really fast, that way the flames will be cold when you go through them.” The girl’s gaze flicked from her parents’ confident smiles to the cold water of the pool. “Listen to your father,” the mother snarled, “he knows.” With an iron grip on the back of her t-shirt, they dashed in a straight line toward the swirling inferno. The year was…
there’s a lot to like here but what really stood out to me was your description of color. it was a lovely thread tying the vignettes together.
I hate that that ending is going to happen one day lol.