As a mind prone to wander (and wonder) in these modern times I find myself drawn to all facets of human thought and discovery. On this particular occasion, I would like to draw your attention to science. Not the boring, logical science of maths, the periodic table and falsefialbility but the much more interesting science of fiction. The science of fiction (or ‘science-fiction’) uses the most powerful force in the universe, the force of the ‘imagination’. And unlike boring real science, the science of fiction can do much cooler stuff. Like allowing you to fly to another galaxy in 2.3 seconds, or make space lasers go ‘pew’ rather than making a boring ‘no’ sound in the vacuum of space, or not inevitably die of solar radiation if you don’t want to.
As my procrastination is often a blessing as well as a burden, I decided to write a micro science fiction story, one that blows apart the boundaries of conventional literature by exploring the key tenants of existentialism, intrasolar meteorology, class and feminism. For you my friends, enjoy the fruits of my overwhelming creativity.
‘By Jove’
Lady Marian Threeblethwaite had found herself in a spot of bother. As a lady of uncommonly adventurous spirit she did not often find herself as perplexed as she was now. Allowing herself a moment of brief respite from her otherwise normally fortuitous personality she uttered a phrase often considered undignified to someone of her stature.
'Oh bother', she said.
Because, rather than awaking in a bedroom in the north-facing wing of Threeblethwaite Manor, as was her regular experience, she instead found herself being buffeted in the more-than-stormy winds of the great red spot of Jupiter, dressed in nothing more than her night gown and a pair of stout leather hiking boots.
'However did I get here?' she thought as she tumbled through the methane clouds.
'And however can I breathe?'
The answer was, she couldn't. As the compressed icy methane crushed the life from from her atrophying lungs her cellular structure collapsed, smearing her body into a dirty red paste across the crests of the ammonium hydrosulfide clouds. Jupiter didn't mind. Jupiter was used to this kind of thing.
The End.
As my procrastination is often a blessing as well as a burden, I decided to write a micro science fiction story, one that blows apart the boundaries of conventional literature by exploring the key tenants of existentialism, intrasolar meteorology, class and feminism. For you my friends, enjoy the fruits of my overwhelming creativity.
‘By Jove’
Lady Marian Threeblethwaite had found herself in a spot of bother. As a lady of uncommonly adventurous spirit she did not often find herself as perplexed as she was now. Allowing herself a moment of brief respite from her otherwise normally fortuitous personality she uttered a phrase often considered undignified to someone of her stature.
'Oh bother', she said.
Because, rather than awaking in a bedroom in the north-facing wing of Threeblethwaite Manor, as was her regular experience, she instead found herself being buffeted in the more-than-stormy winds of the great red spot of Jupiter, dressed in nothing more than her night gown and a pair of stout leather hiking boots.
'However did I get here?' she thought as she tumbled through the methane clouds.
'And however can I breathe?'
The answer was, she couldn't. As the compressed icy methane crushed the life from from her atrophying lungs her cellular structure collapsed, smearing her body into a dirty red paste across the crests of the ammonium hydrosulfide clouds. Jupiter didn't mind. Jupiter was used to this kind of thing.
The End.