A Short Story in Progress

My right hand picked up three sugar cubes and put them to my mouth. I had no desire to ingest three sugar cubes or any sugar cubes for that matter, but I also didn’t want to get into it with my right hand. The growth year hadn’t done him or me any favors. I opened up my mouth and used my tongue to push two sugar cubes toward my left cheek and one against my right and let them melt down.

“Water please,” I said.

Air dropped down a glass of water in front of me, which I grabbed quickly with my left hand.  My right hand had lost interest in the going-ons it appeared so I swirled the water around in my mouth and spit out the sugar that remained.

It was surveillance night.  Every Tuesday dusk to Wednesday dawn for the past five years, Yeats and I have been patrolling Lambda. The Outers liked the children in this region more than others and so that was where most of the snatchings happened.

Since the establishment of intense surveillance in 3001 we had reduced the number of stolen children from an average of 43 monthly down to just five every two months. 

“I hope you’re ready,” said Yeats.

I walked over to my communicator. Yeats  regular green eyes were flashing neon on the screen.


They always flash when he has to wait for me. I wasn’t late, but I wasn’t as early as he liked. He doesn’t understand that things happen, like your clothes not appearing when you expect them to.

I hit reply.