'Sup nerds. I'm looking to enter a short story into a competition. I only learned of the competition a few hours ago and it has some weird rules: must be under 1k words, must have something to do with quantum mechanics and must contain a certain phrase (brownie points if anyone can guess which phrase in the story is the one I had to include).
Normally I would leave the story for a week and then revisit it myself with fresh eyes, but the deadline is in two days so I need outside opinions. Nothing too in-depth, just any parts you didn't like, any parts that were confusing- or was the plot too easy to work out? Did you see it coming from a mile away and not feel inclined to keep reading? The working title is 'All the time we have' but I also don't know if I like that.
It should be a very quick read.
Thanks muchly.
Normally I would leave the story for a week and then revisit it myself with fresh eyes, but the deadline is in two days so I need outside opinions. Nothing too in-depth, just any parts you didn't like, any parts that were confusing- or was the plot too easy to work out? Did you see it coming from a mile away and not feel inclined to keep reading? The working title is 'All the time we have' but I also don't know if I like that.
It should be a very quick read.
Thanks muchly.
“Hey, did I ever tell you how the world is made up of the five '-ons'?”
I sighed. I’d heard this a thousand times over; knew what was coming next.
“Protons, neutrons, electrons- and morons!” Grandpa finished, right on cue, just as the first rays of daylight began to leak through the small garage windows. “Those that don’t believe in the magic of the first three undoubtedly fall under the fourth!”
“I know that, grandpa. You’ve— wait! That’s only four. What’s the fifth?”
“Why, that’s the most important of all! The '-on' that really makes the world go round,”
“What is it?” I pressed excitedly; I’d never heard this version before.
Grandpa looked at me, before taking a big bite of his lunch. “Bacon!” he declared with a wink.
I groaned. Not quite the breakthrough I was hoping for. “Just terrible,” I mumbled.
He smiled, showing me a mouthful of his sandwich. “Did I tell you about the wave—”
“Yes, Grandpa,”
That puzzled him; wrinkles deepening on a face already worn and made loose by time. “What about—”
“I’ve heard that too, Grandpa.” I probably sounded ungrateful, irritable. He didn’t understand, I knew that. But if he did, I’m sure he would forgive me.
Muttering under his breath, he turned back to his project. I closed my eyes. The sunlight was slowly moving, and I could feel it fall across my shoes. The timing seemed wrong. It was too soon. Something was different this time. Was it the bacon joke? Despite my doubts, I could feel a small spark of hope begin to grow. The joke was new, and any new event had to mean progress.
It just had to.
I opened my eyes. Grandpa was fiddling away with tools and implements. I made my slow way over to him, tapping my fingers against his workbench. In response he shooed his fingers at me; his way of saying ‘stop doing that’. As he did so, his watch caught the coffee cup perched on the table edge. It wobbled and then tumbled. My hand flashed out, catching it a foot from the floor.
Grandpa’s eyes widened; his mouth opened.
“How’d I do that?” I asked before he could. “Maybe I’m a Jedi!”
He laughed. “Thank you. That cup was—”
“Grandma’s,” I finished. “She gave it to you for your first anniversary. You were poor at the time and weren’t expecting anything, but she had secretly saved her waitress tips to buy it.”
He frowned. “I’ve told you that story before, huh?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled. I was being unfair. Kissing the top of his bald head, I said, “love you grandpa.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
I knew the gesture was worthless. He wouldn’t remember it. I would though, and it made me feel slightly better. The ray of sunlight was widening, and it seemed all the dust particles in the world had assembled inside it. It was strangely beautiful to watch the flakes twist and swirl within the light; almost as if they were looking to escape.
I knew how they felt.
The scene should have been relaxing; instead it was a reminder time was running out. It would happen soon. And, as I’d found countless times- there was nothing I could do. I picked up a heavy book: The Principles of Quantum Mechanics.
I’d read that thing from cover to cover a dozen times, yet it seemed I knew less now than when I started. What I needed was Quantum Mechanics for Dummies or, How Not to be a Dummy, for Dummies. I laughed at my own joke, but it was a laugh filled with little humor. More of a cackle, really.
Fortunately, Grandpa was too busy humming away to hear it, or he might have been concerned for my sanity. Though at least he wouldn’t have been for long. About four more minutes, if my guess was right.
Unless the bacon joke really had changed something.
Grandpa’s hum was joined by a familiar vibrating sound as his machine whirred to life.
Three more minutes, then.
“Kiddo! Come. I think I may have cracked it!”
Not likely, but I kept the thought to myself. Resting my hands on the back of his chair, I stared down at the transparent polycarbonate box. It was the size of a shoebox and contained the life’s work of a great mind. Two gravity coils burst into life, powered by a much larger liquid thorium fluoride reactor of Grandpa’s own design.
Two minutes…
Grandpa jumped up so fast his chair fell back. I was already bracing for the sound of the heavy steel cannoning against the old concrete floor. It hit with a clatter that was drowned out by Grandpa’s yell, “It’s working! Can you believe it?”
I could. It was tough to feign surprise and excitement after the hundredth time. Or was it the thousandth? Who could say. Time is relative, after all.
As the gravity inside the box began to decrease and weaken, so too did the time around it begin to speed up and distort. I watched as a fresh yellow banana quickly began to blacken and die inside the apparatus.
One…
“It’s a miracle! Do you have any idea what we’ve done here?”
I didn’t. But then nor did he.
“Now, watch as we increase the gravity!” Grandpa shouted, turning a dial slowly. I resigned myself to letting him do it. The first ten times I’d stopped him. The next ten I’d even turned it myself; left, right, up, down. Nothing had made any difference. But maybe the bacon joke had changed something…
Zero.
There was a bright flash. The world around wavered as reality began to melt. I was thrown backward…
And then I was on my feet again.
“Hey, did I ever tell you how the world is made up of the five '-ons'?”
I could have sobbed. The first rays of sunlight trickled into the garage.
Things used to be so simple— before my grandpa broke time.
I sighed. I’d heard this a thousand times over; knew what was coming next.
“Protons, neutrons, electrons- and morons!” Grandpa finished, right on cue, just as the first rays of daylight began to leak through the small garage windows. “Those that don’t believe in the magic of the first three undoubtedly fall under the fourth!”
“I know that, grandpa. You’ve— wait! That’s only four. What’s the fifth?”
“Why, that’s the most important of all! The '-on' that really makes the world go round,”
“What is it?” I pressed excitedly; I’d never heard this version before.
Grandpa looked at me, before taking a big bite of his lunch. “Bacon!” he declared with a wink.
I groaned. Not quite the breakthrough I was hoping for. “Just terrible,” I mumbled.
He smiled, showing me a mouthful of his sandwich. “Did I tell you about the wave—”
“Yes, Grandpa,”
That puzzled him; wrinkles deepening on a face already worn and made loose by time. “What about—”
“I’ve heard that too, Grandpa.” I probably sounded ungrateful, irritable. He didn’t understand, I knew that. But if he did, I’m sure he would forgive me.
Muttering under his breath, he turned back to his project. I closed my eyes. The sunlight was slowly moving, and I could feel it fall across my shoes. The timing seemed wrong. It was too soon. Something was different this time. Was it the bacon joke? Despite my doubts, I could feel a small spark of hope begin to grow. The joke was new, and any new event had to mean progress.
It just had to.
I opened my eyes. Grandpa was fiddling away with tools and implements. I made my slow way over to him, tapping my fingers against his workbench. In response he shooed his fingers at me; his way of saying ‘stop doing that’. As he did so, his watch caught the coffee cup perched on the table edge. It wobbled and then tumbled. My hand flashed out, catching it a foot from the floor.
Grandpa’s eyes widened; his mouth opened.
“How’d I do that?” I asked before he could. “Maybe I’m a Jedi!”
He laughed. “Thank you. That cup was—”
“Grandma’s,” I finished. “She gave it to you for your first anniversary. You were poor at the time and weren’t expecting anything, but she had secretly saved her waitress tips to buy it.”
He frowned. “I’ve told you that story before, huh?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled. I was being unfair. Kissing the top of his bald head, I said, “love you grandpa.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
I knew the gesture was worthless. He wouldn’t remember it. I would though, and it made me feel slightly better. The ray of sunlight was widening, and it seemed all the dust particles in the world had assembled inside it. It was strangely beautiful to watch the flakes twist and swirl within the light; almost as if they were looking to escape.
I knew how they felt.
The scene should have been relaxing; instead it was a reminder time was running out. It would happen soon. And, as I’d found countless times- there was nothing I could do. I picked up a heavy book: The Principles of Quantum Mechanics.
I’d read that thing from cover to cover a dozen times, yet it seemed I knew less now than when I started. What I needed was Quantum Mechanics for Dummies or, How Not to be a Dummy, for Dummies. I laughed at my own joke, but it was a laugh filled with little humor. More of a cackle, really.
Fortunately, Grandpa was too busy humming away to hear it, or he might have been concerned for my sanity. Though at least he wouldn’t have been for long. About four more minutes, if my guess was right.
Unless the bacon joke really had changed something.
Grandpa’s hum was joined by a familiar vibrating sound as his machine whirred to life.
Three more minutes, then.
“Kiddo! Come. I think I may have cracked it!”
Not likely, but I kept the thought to myself. Resting my hands on the back of his chair, I stared down at the transparent polycarbonate box. It was the size of a shoebox and contained the life’s work of a great mind. Two gravity coils burst into life, powered by a much larger liquid thorium fluoride reactor of Grandpa’s own design.
Two minutes…
Grandpa jumped up so fast his chair fell back. I was already bracing for the sound of the heavy steel cannoning against the old concrete floor. It hit with a clatter that was drowned out by Grandpa’s yell, “It’s working! Can you believe it?”
I could. It was tough to feign surprise and excitement after the hundredth time. Or was it the thousandth? Who could say. Time is relative, after all.
As the gravity inside the box began to decrease and weaken, so too did the time around it begin to speed up and distort. I watched as a fresh yellow banana quickly began to blacken and die inside the apparatus.
One…
“It’s a miracle! Do you have any idea what we’ve done here?”
I didn’t. But then nor did he.
“Now, watch as we increase the gravity!” Grandpa shouted, turning a dial slowly. I resigned myself to letting him do it. The first ten times I’d stopped him. The next ten I’d even turned it myself; left, right, up, down. Nothing had made any difference. But maybe the bacon joke had changed something…
Zero.
There was a bright flash. The world around wavered as reality began to melt. I was thrown backward…
And then I was on my feet again.
“Hey, did I ever tell you how the world is made up of the five '-ons'?”
I could have sobbed. The first rays of sunlight trickled into the garage.
Things used to be so simple— before my grandpa broke time.
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