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Items written for the various flash fiction challenges, whenever the muse strikes. |
| George Michaels was hunched over the keyboard, palsied fingers tapping our frenetic rhythms as he attempted to complete the assignment. He hit ‘Enter’ for the umpteenth time to see the same dissolving data that frustrated his previous attempts. There was a series of audible beeps as the error messages started to appear. His fingers clutched curls already reduced to a Medusa like state by constant despair and eyes rolled heavenwards for relief. “If there is a Santa Claus – I need an ELF” The computer was now giving off a continuous electronic squeal and George leaned forward in alarm. He saw what looked like a cloud of smoke arising from behind it and he was quick to shut power to the system. The blue screen imploded into black as the smoke rose in spirals and sparks showered upwards. Just as he reached for the fire extinguisher he saw that the computer was glowing back to life with some weird screen saver on it… “Wha…?” There was an animated persons on screen – definitely vertically challenged – attired in a gaudy red jacket over peculiar narrow green pants. The colour combination was repeated in the hat with a perky feather at its brim. The eyes were a piercing cobalt blue and slightly oriental in shape. The comic figure was made even more ludicrous by the over-large ears. His jaw continued its downward plunge of shocked disbelief as the figure gyrated in place. The computer gave a sound similar to the satisfied burp of repletion – the kind you hear after a large pizza – loud and unmistakable. The creature came to a stop, gave a little bow and looked straight into George’s protruding eyes. “You called, Sir?” If one could have glimpsed eyebrows which had long ago vanished into the untidy fringe on his forehead, George’s would have registered extreme astonishment. As it is, one is forced to assume the emotion from his stuttered “B-b-but who? I d-d-didn’t!” “Oh, yes you called for an elf.” Feeling foolish at talking to his computer’s screen image George was nevertheless eager to explain the intricacies of programming. “I meant an ELF.” “Don’t shout – I heard you the first time.” “No-no, I mean an Executed and Linking Format.” “Look buddy, you invoked Santa’s name at Christmas time and asked for help, what else would he send – and we’re shorthanded on the shop floor too. If you wanted an Executioner or a Sausage-maker or whatever – you should’ve said.” “Really,” George’s spectacles became steamed up from his nervousness and he had to take them off to wipe them. “I just meant ... I couldn’t have been clearer ... they were once called Extensible..” “Look just because we're not as tall as you Yumans is no reason to call us expendable!” George put on his glasses and wished he hadn’t – the figure was literally in his face – it had now materialized on the desktop. It was brandishing a threatening finger in his face. He tried another tack – since explanation wasn’t working – conciliation might be a good choice. “I didn’t know there were any elfs in reality.” “It’s Elves, and naturally not – since you guys contend we’re only able to make toys for your grasping offspring – year after year after year. Everyelve is Chief or Principal or Commander of something that’s nothing” “Umm... but I’m sure you like the jobs.” “Yeah – you’d like it if your boss said you could make little pegboards with round pegs for elven kids – right?” “I am a skilled programmer, I couldn’t waste my talents on that – uh –“ He slowed to a halt at the sardonic question in the elf’s eyes. “You mean you are capable of more?” “Of course, but will anybody employ us to do anything other than mindless mass production or parading in displays? No-oo-oo! These outfits too – you’d think they’d have something in a tasteful tweed or pinstripe but we are always forced to be blinded by colour uncoordinated outfits. Nobody takes us seriously” “What could you do then?” “What couldn’t we? How do you think we keep tabs on Naughty and Nice? Magic of course! Stop expecting Santa to provide all the answers and gifts. Maybe then we can do a bit of real work? ” The elf walked up to the computer and reached out a glistening finger to the keyboard. “Watch.” The keyboard jiggered and clattered as key after key moved in clacking cadence. The screen lit up with esoteric symbols and commands. There was a burst of light “Christmas Shopping” appeared on the screen. There were holly wreaths and bells and snow - a detailed menu promised on-line shopping, virtual tours of a mall with gaming and multiple players possible whilst one shopped. Just what George wanted to create! Mr. Walker’s head popped in the door. He had an expectant grin of fulfillment from his top programmer. “Done? I though I heard sleigh bells.” He stared transfixed at the screen, “you’ve outdone yourself lad. Did it all yourself?” “No, Sir. An Elf helped.” A snort signified appreciation of the joke even as the boss boomed,” Guess we’ll have to put you on the Nice List after all. What do you want Santa to bring you?” “That’s more in your realm than Santa’s, sir. A sizable bonus would be good.” A louder snort and a thumbs up accompanied by a wink were all that George was destined to get that day. But in the virtual worlds he created thereafter he always had ‘little people’ doing man sized jobs. ELF or elf – he always had success thenceforth. Word count:920 23/12/2008 Entry for
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