|An oldie from Vault Maximus.|
Kodachrome“Hey. That’s not the picture I wanted to take!”Kodachrome by RalfMaximus
Sally held the glossy, still warm from the printer, like something delivered by a deep-space probe, squinting at it critically.
“For one thing, it’s… off. The frame is wrong. Stuff got cut off.” She looked at me as if it was my fault.
“View finder, dear. It’s not going to show you exactly what the lens sees.” I held up the Leica and turned it, tapped near the small square view finder then pointed near the giant glass lens below. “See? They’re different. One you see through, the other the camera sees through.”
“Well, that’s stupid!”
I chuckled. “Limitations of the tech, sweetheart.”
“Cameras need to show you exactly what you want to see before taking the picture. Everyone knows that.”
Nodding, I turned to the shelf behind us, reaching for a different camera. Rummaging, my old hands found what I sought. The Olympus
32 Seconds“Navigator. Is there a problem?”32 Seconds by RalfMaximus
Evans tore his eyes away from the glowing red timer. “Sir. Is that…?”
The Commander on duty – Simes! Yes, he remembered her name was Simes – calmly awaited his response, gauging his reaction. Was this a test? A hazing of the new Navigator, just reported for duty?
“Um, begging your pardon sir… that’s… is it supposed to be doing that?”
Simes did not break eye contact. “Is what supposed to be doing what?”
Evans gestured limply at the glowing, pulsing :32. The Commander made a deliberate show of turning to look where he indicated, muttering a brief Hmm a beat later, as if noticing their imminent doom for the first time.
“Oh yes, that.” She turned back to regard him, not a trace of mirth in her eyes. “It’s stuck. Been that way for…” she paused, remembering, finally shook her head and addressed the air above them.
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."How It Began by RalfMaximus
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
So I went to feed my dog this morning, and the bowl slipped from my hands.
Metal dog bowl goes ring-a-ding-dinging around the kitchen floor like a pinball, kibble spraying EVERYWHERE. After it comes to rest me and the dog lock eyes. She is confused, anxious, ears down. This is not how things normally work.
No worries, I got this! she seems to say as she goes to work, hoovering up dog kibble like a Roomba.
It’s amazing to watch her, how quickly she cleans up my mess, tail waving gently with concentration. In less than a minute she is done, sitting proudly where moments ago was chaos.
“Good dog,” I say, putting down some extra bonus food for her… this time in the bowl. The morning ritual is complete, she is fed, all is right in the world.
My dog is teaching me not to sweat the little things.