Miss Fix It
by Marc Morisseau
Her voice was in everyone’s head. “Pardon the interruption. For the next 24 hours, everything can be fixed with a touch.” There was a pause. “Notice I said every THING; no living beings. Or dead ones. That is all.”
There followed a wave of emotions: fear, panic, anxiety, dread, followed by excitement, anticipation, curiosity.
Then it began. Squeaky doors and floors ceased to tease their homeowners. Gutters were cleaned and roofs repaired. Leaky faucets were silenced. Living rooms were dust free and spotless. Restaurant tables no longer needed sugar packets under their legs. Every car owner became an expert mechanic.
However, some were disappointed. The real estate mogul who touched the side of his new project discovered that the tower would not build itself. A Mom learned that touching the hole she had just dug in the backyard and filled with water, did not become a swimming pool. But there were more hits than misses, and 24 hours later, it was over. Grudgingly, people returned to their normal lives.
On another plane of existence, the 20-something Technician sat at her station, watching the monitors. She felt her Supervisor standing behind her. “A genius idea” he said, “siphoning all that excess magical energy by allowing people to temporarily use it. There will be consequences.” “Yes, but they can be handled.”
The Technician smiled. “Just call me Miss Fix It.”
Marc Morisseau is the current Chairman of the R.I. Science Fiction Club, which he helped organize with some friends in 1987. His Grandkids call him Obi Wan, and he is also a CoHost of the Club's R.I. PEG Access show, Sci-Fi Journal. Oh, and he reads comics too.
by Marc Morisseau
Her voice was in everyone’s head. “Pardon the interruption. For the next 24 hours, everything can be fixed with a touch.” There was a pause. “Notice I said every THING; no living beings. Or dead ones. That is all.”
There followed a wave of emotions: fear, panic, anxiety, dread, followed by excitement, anticipation, curiosity.
Then it began. Squeaky doors and floors ceased to tease their homeowners. Gutters were cleaned and roofs repaired. Leaky faucets were silenced. Living rooms were dust free and spotless. Restaurant tables no longer needed sugar packets under their legs. Every car owner became an expert mechanic.
However, some were disappointed. The real estate mogul who touched the side of his new project discovered that the tower would not build itself. A Mom learned that touching the hole she had just dug in the backyard and filled with water, did not become a swimming pool. But there were more hits than misses, and 24 hours later, it was over. Grudgingly, people returned to their normal lives.
On another plane of existence, the 20-something Technician sat at her station, watching the monitors. She felt her Supervisor standing behind her. “A genius idea” he said, “siphoning all that excess magical energy by allowing people to temporarily use it. There will be consequences.” “Yes, but they can be handled.”
The Technician smiled. “Just call me Miss Fix It.”
Marc Morisseau is the current Chairman of the R.I. Science Fiction Club, which he helped organize with some friends in 1987. His Grandkids call him Obi Wan, and he is also a CoHost of the Club's R.I. PEG Access show, Sci-Fi Journal. Oh, and he reads comics too.