Random Story :
My Boyfriend from the Planet Blorg
Author : Angela McQuay “Flickenborge?” Jason asks. I hand him …
The Monk
Author: Hillary Lyon
Unable to sleep, Merl slipped out of his tiny apartment pod to walk the rainy streets outside; guilt gnawed away at his conscience like a ravenous rat. Before long he spotted a Holo-Halo booth across the street; one of hundreds positioned throughout the city by Civic Spiritual Corporation, or CSC. It’s ‘vacant’ sign glowed softly, beckoning him to enter.
The prefab booth was designed to mimic an old world confessional’s ornately carved dark wood, at once comforting and authoritative. A small calligraphed sign explained, “Only 30 credits to clear your conscience. Absolution guaranteed.” Merl pressed his credit card against the small pad beside the booth’s door.
Payment accepted, the door clicked open; as he stepped inside it closed with a soft, sure thunk. The space was just large enough for Merl to turn around and seat himself on a little bench protruding from the wall. As soon as he did, an interactive holo-pad appeared before him, while a soothing voice of indeterminate gender addressed him.
“Please choose a confessor from the following menu.”
Merl read through the list of six confessors and, not being particularly religious, chose number 6 on a whim. The Monk of the Meteoric Mysteries. As soon as he chose, the holo-pad vanished, and the booth’s wood-paneled wallpaper transitioned to a wooded mountain vista, complete with burbling stream and occasional birdsong. The hard wooden bench became a sun-warm boulder.
Mel sighed. Such a serene setting! I should’ve done this sooner, he thought. Totally worth 30 credits.
The Monk materialized before him, wearing a purple robe trimmed in gold. Shaved head, heavily tattooed. Eyes that shone like distant lanterns on a moonless night.
“State your transgression,” the Monk intoned.
“I, uh, stole from my employer,” Merl mumbled.
“In what capacity,” the Monk queried. “To what extent?”
“I work in accounting. I skimmed credits off his executive expense account.”
“Why?”
“To treat my new girlfriend to a weekend at a resort hotel.”
The Monk closed his eyes and chanted softly, repeating the same unintelligible mantra over and over. Merl suspected the Monk was searching his database for the appropriate punishment.
Abruptly, the Monk’s eyes opened. “For penance, you will reimburse your employer’s account, plus 15 percent interest. Place your palm near mine.” The Monk raised his left hand.
Merl did as instructed. He couldn’t actually touch the hologram Monk’s hand, but positioned his hand as close to it as possible. Twelve quick bursts of electricity stung Merl’s palm.
“You are absolved,” the Monk said. “Thank you for using Holo-Halo’s services.” He bowed. “You may go.”
“But there’s more,” Merle said.
“For further absolution, please deposit an additional 30 credits.” The holo-pad reappeared.
Merl swiped his card.
“Continue your confession,” the Monk stated flatly.
“My girlfriend is also my employer’s daughter.” Merl continued, “And CSC prohibits fraternization between employees.”
“Your employer is my creator,” the Monk noted. “It behooves me to report your breach of contract to CSC. Your penance will be severe.” The Monk closed his eyes and chanted before vanishing.
A scowling, hulking prison guard appeared in his stead. The serene mountain scene disappeared, replaced with the close stone walls of prison cell, complete with squealing rats scurrying across the wet floor. The warm boulder became a cold, hard iron bench.
The guard slapped a nightstick against his meaty palm.
“I want to terminate this confession!” Merl screeched. “Now!”
In the distance, Merl heard approaching sirens of CSC security. “Here comes your absolution,” the guard grinned and, raising his nightstick, flung an arc of sparks across the prison cell.