Crime And Punishment. And Youtube.

The room was small and oppressive, with a large mirror that a healthy diet of television shows about police investigations would suggest was secretly a window. There was a table, and at it sat two people, across from a detective.

‘As you know, this morning the world’s most popular Youtube star was found murdered by, according to a note left at the crime scene, their biggest fan,’ said the detective. ‘After looking into what a Youtube star is, we’ve determined that while we all consider this largely a good thing, it’s still technically illegal, and the two of you are the only witnesses.’ (more…)



Like the bank, the man was old and distinguished, but in more of a tweed jacket sort of way. He waited patiently in line as the queue marched slowly forward. Eventually he reached a counter. Politely he presented the service revolver hidden in his pocket and slid a note to the young woman behind the counter.

The note read Hand over the bitcoins! (more…)

The Key of Tormanku

The Coiled Serpent, High Priest of the Brotherhood of Grool, adjusted his hood and stepped into the flickering candlelight. ‘The rumours are true. ‘ His voice was deep and foreboding.

The Squatting Aardvark, who didn’t have an official title but essentially amounted to middle management, scratched himself. ‘About Kim Kardashian and the armchair? I knew it!’ His voice wasn’t deep or foreboding.

‘What? No!’ said the Coiled Serpent irritably. ‘The rumours about The Key of Tormanku. It has been found.’

‘So the Kim Kardashian thing isn’t true?’ said the Squatting Aardvark. (more…)

You Can Go Home Again

‘I’ve invented a time machine,’ said Stanley.

The psychiatrist’s office was sterile in a comforting way. Like a pretend room in a furniture store. It celebrated homeliness while denying the realities of it. No stains. No cluttered surfaces. No suggestion that sometimes it’s all just too much and does it really matter if you put away the dishes?

‘I see,’ said the psychiatrist. ‘And did you suffer any traumatic events prior to the invention of this ‘time machine’?’

‘I’m not delusional,’ said Stanley. ‘Look, here’s a photo of me in ancient Egypt. And this is me with Leonardo Da Vinci. After it was taken he tried to steal the camera and we both wound up in an Italian prison. This one is of me at Hitler’s thirteenth birthday. Obviously he couldn’t grow the moustache at that age. I kept going to his birthday parties waiting for him to turn evil but gradually I realised that morality isn’t black and white and people are the accumulation of experiences, not the result of a single defining moment. Plus killing Hitler is such a cliché. I might be a time traveler but I’m not a hack.’ (more…)

Without Great Power

‘Hey Karen, remember how I went on a tour of that lab today?’ said Rodney.

‘I remember thinking it was weird that a lab would give tours,’ said Karen.

‘Well, I have big news.’

‘They hired you? You can finally quit your job as one of the people who are secretly inside vending machines, operating them manually?’

‘Not quite. Although I might have to quit my job.’

‘What happened?’

‘I was bitten by a radioactive spider.’

‘You mean…’

‘That’s right. I have cancer now.’ (more…)

Diamonds Are Forever. Everything Else Dies Eventually.

The room was dry. Figuratively, though also literally. If an old leather bound book was a room, it would look like this one. A lot of dark wood.

In the centre of the room sat a dishevelled man. Unshaven. Unwashed. He hadn’t changed tuxedos in weeks. Around him sat half a dozen older, less disheveled men.

‘Do you know why you’re here?’ said one of them.

‘I used to believe that God created us,’ said the dishevelled man. ‘Then I went through a Buddhist phase. Then I believed that the universe itself was God and we were all part of it, a universal consciousness. Now… Now I don’t know what I believe.’ His name was Bond. Jim Bond to the overly familiar. (more…)