Flash Fiction: Xerox

by Michael Seese

A lot of contemplating. Ten minutes of writing. Thirty minutes of "red pen" to get it down to 100 words.

The latest Janet Reid contest asked us to use the words

dongle
bangle
fangle
ten
tear

in the requisite 100-word story.

Here is mine, "Xerox."

Dr. Mnemosyne turned the monitor.

"A trip to the Smithsonian, seeing the Star Fangled Banner."

"When she was ten. And it's Spangled."

"Of course. Front row at a Bangles concert."

Adam continued studying the images. "That's her," he finally said, looking at the inert form, wiping a tear.

"She'll be awake in a few hours."

"And she won't know she's a copy?"

"No. Do you want this?" Mnemosyne asked, holding up the dongle.

"Just destroy it."

"I will," he said, sliding it into his pocket. The daughter of a multi-billionaire should command top dollar on the memory market, he thought.

Usually I don't do sci-fi. What say you, good people?