Short Little Stories

“Your car windows are open. Your car windows are open. Your car windows are open.“

The electronic voice began sqealing at Jared from his wrist, and he looked down in consternation at his NanoNanny, the fine-tuned device designed to keep his affairs in order.

“What? Of course they are, its hot out! Be quiet!” He snarled at it, smacking the bracelet of circuitry that housed the important parts of the program.

“Temperature is irrelevant. Thunderstorm is in occurence. Your car windows are open. Your car windows are open.“

Jared gritted his teeth and jumped to his feet, stomping down the hallway towards the outside. How could it be raining? It was 90 degrees out not 20 minutes ago, and blisteringly sunny.

All the while, the voice continued its high pitched whining, with the occasional barb thrown in: “If you had upgraded to a modern transportation vehicle, you could control maintenance remotely. Fleshbag. Your car windows are open. Your car windows are open.“

Jared walked outside, and then rain hit him like a tactical nuke. Inside he hadn’t heard the crash and thunder of the sudden storm, but out here it dominated the air – save for the shrill voice echoing through the storm.

Stomping over to his car, drenched and shivering, he eventually reached his conveyance, and quickly slammed the door open, turned the key, and rolled up the windows.

With a sigh, he ducked back out into the storm.

“You missed the back right window, meatsack. Your car windows are open.“

Jared tore off the wristband that housed the voice and hurled it into the air. A deafining boom shook the air as a lightning bolt blasted down and hit the device, and a rain of silvery shards splashed onto the ground… and moments later reformed into a still intact silver bracelet.

“I hate the fucking future.”