Bronze Place Is Last Place

I got third in the spitting competition at Speculative Faith. It wasn’t even close, but I don’t know how close these things tend to get. As a reward for reading this post so far, you get to look at their past competitions and write up a detailed report for me, please. You won’t get paid, not even in good karma or a thank you. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.

Below is the text of the story, for safekeeping.

The guard would never let me enter if he knew what I was planning.

That’s precisely why I told him my intentions.

“Eye’m going t’sh-to steal,” I, in my drunken rake’s disguise, declared with exaggerated slur, “that thing, right there. Thank you v’ry much!”

It worked! Lisette heard my final words, our predetermined cue. A small section of the floor molding rose, on the far side of the display room, revealing the narrow passageway. A mechanic’s creeper then glided out on well-oiled casters.

I unsteadily pointed at my target: the telluric electronal harvester, humming quietly behind the guard. It burnished bright with newly manufactured metallic curves and subtle, decorative illuminations. Naturally, it levitated, needlessly; my brother was ostentatious with “his” inventions as they were display at our annual Von Barger Estate Fair.

Lisette—my blessed, willing, diminutive, long-suffering, task-runner—slid out from the darkness of the hidden room. Brother’s architectural cleverness was my opportunity.

“You d’serve a dance, my friend!” I announced to the guard, and ersatz step shook my limbs.

Lisette lithely slid onto the creeper and wheeled underneath the harvester, deactivated the correct section of casing to reveal the electronal hopper and its wiring, quickly sketched out my proprietary schematics, and slid back into the passageway in just under a minute.

“Thank ye v’ry much fer yer time, sir!”

I belched, produced a silver ducat from my pockets, and flipped it over to the guard. It fell lamely onto the carpet in front of him. I doffed my hat and left down the hall, among the other fair-goers.

By this time tomorrow, the other Von Barger son will receive a very obnoxious series of tele-scripts and sketches that revealed my successful little reconnaissance and recovery mission. Our little prank war continues!