An earlier version appeared at weirdyear.com in May 2010. This was fun to write, although I had flu at the time. WARNING: Not for the squeamish.
Flipped
Heads: “That’s it, then. From now on, I’ll make decisions based solely upon the toss of a coin.” Kel kissed his antique 2015 fiver. “You, my friend, will organise my life. Stuff the Corporation and its rules. My life’s been boring for too long; spontaneity is the answer. Now, do I or don’t I?”
Tails: “A fun decision, my silver sage.” Kel filled all the boxes on the Corporation’s Hourly Analysis of Activities/Monday e-form with “NOYB.” Too right. How he spent his days was nobody’s business but his.
Heads: “Spot on. I’d rather have nutriberry jam than SimFish paste anyway.” He ate his breakfast in silence, relishing the tangy spread, and then raised a glass of soya milk to his wife’s holoshrine. Should he worry?
Tails: Yes. He worried; the Corporation could do to him what it did to her. What next? He flipped his fiver.
Heads: “Damn. I wanted tails again.” Tails would’ve meant hiding in his friend Marty’s bunker until he could get an eye transplant and a new ID chip. Heads meant heading for the hills and hoping for a miracle escape from the Enforcers. He gathered some essentials and made his way to the roof of the 80-storey block. The bus arrived. He needed somewhere on the outskirts of the city. N or T?
Tails: “Sector N,” Kel said, waving his hand at the small screen inside the door. Good, they hadn’t stopped his credits yet. The bus was full, so he stood near the door. A blue-skinned Torlanite glared at him, all the while plaiting the tendrils sprouting from her eyebrows. Should he risk a smile? They made fantastic lovers, he’d heard – not that he had time to do anything about it now – and apparently they liked humans.
Tails: Apparently not, and now the whole busload was watching him. Instead, he smiled at the Nuarin standing next to him. He needed to appear casual. “Crowded today, huh?”
“What’s with the coin?” The Nuarin whipped out a tentacle and grabbed the fiver from Kel’s hand.
“It’s a better way of making decisions. You should do the same.” Kel raised his voice, forgetting that he was supposed to be keeping a low profile. “For too long, the Corporation has…” He stopped, open-mouthed, as the Nuarin snapped his precious coin in half with his pincers. Kel snatched the pieces back. He hadn’t expected this. “Do I get off or do I stay on the bus?” he whispered, and flipped. The two halves landed.
Heads and tails: “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’ll show you what it means,” said the Nuarin, lunging forwards and cuffing Kel’s left hand to the rail. He opened the door, switched on his Corporation laser blade, and sliced him in half. The lower part of Kel’s body fell towards the street below. The upper half slumped to the floor. Eyes wide with horror, Kel used his free hand to try to stop his guts spilling towards the open doorway.
“P-p-please…” The smell of singed flesh made him feel sick.
“You can be rebuilt, you know.” The voice came from somewhere near the back of the bus. “If we get to the Medcentre in time.”
“Or you can die.” The Nuarin picked up the pieces of coin and tossed them into the air. “Tails says we take you to the Med.” The two halves landed.
Kel gasped. “I m-may have been wrong about s-spontaneity.”
Heads: “You lose, so let’s speed things up.” The Nuarin laughed, and aimed his laser at Kel’s neck.
© Bec Zugor 2010
