For years I've also written fiction of various kinds, not for anything other than my own amusement, you understand. But some folks said to me, "Hey, why don't you put that up here?" OK... as I find it and adapt it for the Web, I will. Usually I'll include the first paragraph or two here; click the link to read the whole story in .pdf version.
Enjoy, because this life's too short to be serious all the time.
|Signs of the Times|
what Local #502 of the Doomsayers and Gloomcasters Society said, Eward
Freen didn’t really think of himself as a prophet. He was just someone
who could read the signs of the times, and couldn’t keep what he
learned to himself. In fact, as far as Eward Freen was concerned, he was
about as ordinary as they came.
He was only saying what he felt had to be said, after all. He wasn’t a prophet. How could he be? He was a scientist—and a mediocre one at that. His work at the University on behalf of the Ford design team was proof enough for anyone. Few of his colleagues would deny that most of Freen’s recent modifications had been less than stellar. Self-changing sparkplugs that developed a tendency to spontaneously self-change as soon as the engine warmed up. A Windows-based automatic global positioning system that managed to reset its internal clock to the Mayan solar calendar every time the vehicle made three left turns in a row. That one had taken a while to fix. A crash-avoidance radar that, well, you get the picture."
Nb. Despite the reference on p.7, this story was written long before M. Night Shyamalan wrote Signs.