Bike | A flash fiction story
29 of đź’Ż
“You can’t and you won’t, Miranda!” The small woman tried to grab her daughter’s arm, but it was too late, she was already out the door.
“I can and I will,” Miranda yelled at the rest of the dusty village.
“There ain’t nothing but punks and cogs shooting each other in that place.” The mother followed Miranda out, an unfinished sandwich in her hand. “Why do you wanna go?”
“Because, momma!” Miranda grabbed a little pink monster of a bicycle. “I don’t wanna be a hillbilly. We have the one Aether rig for the whole village and it don’t even work most of the time.”
People started gathering with worried looks.
“Momma,” Miranda lowered her voice, “you know I always wanted this. I wanna know things, do things. I wanna be someone! I wanna have a bot that cleans after me. They have bots, momma!”
“Yes, I know they do,” the mother said with misty eyes. “I can’t hold you here forever can I?”
The girl shook her head.
“You never belonged here anyway,” the mother said, trying to hold a stubborn tear. “You belong in the big city. You belong in Argon.”
She offered the sandwich to her daughter.
“Thanks, momma.” Miranda added the sandwich to the collection of random items she had inside a burlap bag. “I’ll call.”
“And I’ll get Atkins to fix the damn rig so I can answer.” More tears joined the first on a quiet stride down her cheeks.
After a long hug, Miranda pedaled the bike out of the village and into the dusty road that cut through The Wastelands.
“Miranda!” Atkins ran after her. “Where are you going?”
“Let her go, Atkins,” the mother said. “And fix the damn rig! You have one job, for god’s sake.”
< Artificial | Bike | Sunset >
