Today: Tomorrow's Yesterday

         Kerm21 gestured with his hand and the sensors on the wristband of his spacesuit activated the entry port. There was a faint hiss as his ectoplasm was sucked through the skin of the vessel and he regenerated again on the other side.

         One flick and the transparent Globpheric retracted into his suit like a hood. He smoothed down a fold of the all encasing soft material that had replaced those ridiculous inflated suits of the 21Cs. His Dad was an Olden Day aficionado, hence the name, but he thought the Steel Cube days were too archaic for words!

         “Kerm? Is that you?”

         Holovids and self-tracksuits can’t stop Her-men from asking foolish questions! But she does have a way of taking my mind off those turbulent wormhole transitions.

         “Yes, Benn-ee. Set up an Orbit call please, to all our current Satelligators. I think I’ve found something.”

         He entered the Comm Room as he spoke, twisting one shoulder as he extricated something from a pouch that clung to his back.

         Benn-ee was busy in front of the slightly curved far wall, her quick hand movements were bringing squares to colourful life. Heads and bodies materialized in those – depending on whether the person on the other end had chosen close view or full.

         Sym, Mac, Tab, Pod, I-Fon …. good, they are all there.

         “Kermy – h’yah!”

         “Twenone!”

         “Noble Hour, Kerm!”

         The greetings varied in tone and formality according to personality, inclination and acquaintance. Kerm responded with the one middle finger upraised that stood for silent greeting on his world.

         “He held up the small coloured object for all to see – it was pink, that itself proved antiquity. Pink had been outlawed as a colour centuries ago; it was believed to make the Her-men less intellectual.

         He intoned, ‘It’s about 1 tench by .8 tench, thin and hard, with a reflective black face on one side.’

         “Where did you find it? I think you went past the sulfur pools about 32 hours back?”

         Kerm paused to think if the speaker was on the same time lengths. For Hour now meant what was in archaic days ten of the same units. Days also differed, with each NuDay being two Hours, but one still just said the short ‘day’. Other units too - a tench was ten archaic inches. Some worlds clung to old ways, like Mac’s.

         “Er-hmm. Yes, although we might refer to it as just over three Nu-hours.”

         He’d deliberately used the full word.

         “But I got sidetracked by this weird meteor bombardment, so fine the particles that it was like, what I imagine would be, a dezert sandstorm. My seeking device got clogged and as I was shaking it, I fell.”

         Kerm took a deep breath, wondering if someone would stop him or question the events.

         Tab roto-nodded his head in agreement, “Yes, I’ve heard that mentioned, it gets jogged by fine material into T3 - Temporary Time Transfer. That’s how the Galaxy’s only dinosaur egg was found. Pity it could not be hatched, something about too much Koh2 in the atmosphere these day.”

         Young Sym, a prodigy to be Finder at just 2 Decons of age, was impatient of reminiscing.

         “And …? Go on Kerm.”

         “I came out of the storm in a few minutes and saw that my hand was clutching this …”

         He brandished the strange object.

         “I was able to pinpoint the era roughly, the 21Cs – ironically.”

         As the most experienced, Mac spoke first, “I think it must be a crude weapon of some sort. To be flung from a projectile device in the rudimentary methods of those days.”

         “No, no. It is obviously a utensil, they went in for flats, called plates, to hold food that they ate. Those days the food was massive and dirty-fresh.” I-Fon’s tone was scornful. he cast an approving glance at three compact pellets in his hand which had come down the Nu-Hour Nutri-chute. It contained all the nutrition he specifically needed and was manufactured from waste by especially cultured Yeest bacteria.

         “I think it was a reflective surface, ornamental in purpose, note the colour,” Tab shuddered, without voicing the word pink.

         Bann-ee interrupted in soft hesitation, “Actually, I did casual historical viewing on that period and I think it was a record device.

         "It's nothing like a Rosetta Stone Tablet - and that's folklore anyway, one single tablet that translated all languages." Mac's gruff voice interrupted in scornful dismissal.

         "Not that far back - but 21C - it even communicated. It was named after an archaic fruit that was still found in those days and had “I” tacked on each type because the maker was very conceited. He generated a lot of employment, so people called him Jobs. Nearly half the world was Her-man those days so that colour was especially created to please them ...”

         As she rambled on, Kerm saw the expression on all the faces, They think the colour is already affecting her, making her babble nonsense. Sym was even indiscreetly making vertical spinning motions above his head with a forefinger, indicating thoughts spiraling out of control.

         “Bann dear, would you please check the Chute for my Hour’s supply of Nutri? I’m feeling a bit hollow after my transfers.”

         As she hurried away, maternal instinct aroused, Kerm sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

That Mot-Her instinct saved the day. Those instincts are the only thing we cannot replicate in the Labro. And the kidlings don’t evolve without them.

         He sighed, “His-men, I think we shall continue this later? All of you think things over and submit a decamin thought capsule by end of Hour. Contact terminated.”

         He showed them all the middle finger as he signed off.


Word count: 942
Written for:"The Writer's Cramp"  [13+] *Winning entry*
PROMPT: Use the following words/phrases in a story or poem in the Sci-Fi genre. Be sure to bold the words/phrases for the judge to find!

stone tablet
egg
sulfur pool
sandstorm