Short Fiction by Lindsay Bison

0.0 TESSELLATION BREAKDOWN

The box was empty.

It was the second impossible event of the morning. First, the symmetry drive was failing; now the reserve ammunition was gone.

Wemly forced the gun into her boot. Thirteen shots and then death, if she wasn't dead already.

The fabric is thin. I do a quick spin to get the feeling of it when I move. I want to go down to the reflecting pond to get a look but mom says we don't have time.

She's agitated again. Keeps flexing her mandibles, but I know she's not hungry. We're going to meet with her artist friends.