Antediluvian: Words on Wednesdays

A piece of flash fiction inspired by the good folks at The Write Practice and their word of the week format. Constraints were to include a President and a storm. The times we live in, eh?

Also! Congrats Obama.

Antediluvian

adjec­tive:

  •  of or relat­ing to the period before the flood described in the Bible
  • made, evolved, or devel­oped a long time ago
  • extremely prim­i­tive or outmoded

The hibernating ship Anomalocaris began to stir after a universe long slumber. Ageless subroutines booted to life on a solar scale. In the time it took a nearby star to first luminesce under thermonuclear fusion, Anomalocaris’ antediluvian systems managed to become self-sufficient.

Life signs spiked deep within the rousing vessel. A president awoke to raucous clamoring that permeated from outside the hull. He ran a diagnostic and learned that a system was ejecting far too much radiation to conform with known stellar parameters. This universe could not be so different; he was awake after all.

Sensors reached out into the storm, relying on outmoded detection algorithms. Equally antediluvian methods filtered data effectively, yet slowly. Feedback reported in an instant. The president’s display banished pools of darkness from his face with a shock of plasma. His irises contracted in the light.

Anomalocaris’ armor plating, usually relegated to protection against eroding timespans, was under direct attack. Bombardment rocked her as she woke. Had been pummeling while she slept. He checked: For millennia. A static appraisal revealed that there was indeed an intelligent cause. Radio bands were chockfull of chatter. Alien sounds.

“Kids these days,” the president said. His voice was a rasp. He’d wake his constituents. It was time to go to war.

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