Do you recycle? If so, what do you recycle? If not, why not?
“Targets spotted,” Anne says softly. She sends the feed from her scanner directly to the visual processor in my cybernetic brain. Three men in tailored suits exit the sedan that has just pulled up to the transfer station. The scanner highlights their cyber mods as well as any potential hidden weapons. Not that we’re going to get close enough for them to use them.
“Time to take out the trash,” I chuckle. Anne groans. I switch the feed to my scope, swallowing a curse as I lose the sense of depth perception from the scanner. I really need to get a new eye.
No matter. I know the trajectory already. One eye is all I need. I line them up in my scope and squeeze the trigger.
Just as my pulse bullet exits the barrel, one of the suits looks toward the heap we’re squatting atop. My shot misses him, though it strikes the middle man with full electromagnetic force. He crumples to the ground as the bullet passes through him into the third.
He had also avoided a fatal blow, though his arm sparks at the shoulder joint where the bullet had torn it off. The two run for cover. Anne mutters course corrections as I set up a second shot. I finish off the third suit with that one, but I’ve lost sight of the one I missed.
“You may have to consider switching to incendiary,” Anne cautions.
I check my ammo. I’ve only got one of those left. “Nah, that would be a waste.” I load a gas shell into the chamber. I should have realized he would hear me with those ear mods, but his nose is still all original. “I’ll stink him out.”
Anne rolls her eyes and returns to her scanner. “He’s behind that mound at your ten o’clock.”
“Roger!” I fire the stink bomb and immediately chamber another pulse bullet. A moment later, the last target dives, coughing, out from behind his cover. “Gotcha.” My shot does not miss a second time.
As we’re collecting their stolen mods, I’m thrilled to discover the first guy I took out had a legal visual mod. And it was compatible with the one I lost! I gleefully yank the cyber eye from his socket.
Anne hisses her disgust. “Really, Dana?”
“What? I’m recycling!” I am just on point with the garbage puns tonight.
“That- that’s not…” She sighs in defeat. “You know what, never mind.”
I blink a few times as the eye calibrates to my visual cortex. I grin at her. “You think I’m sexier with the eyepatch.”
Notes: Yeah I dunno where I’m going with this one now. My husband and I watched Love Death & Robots this weekend and I had robots on the brain when I sat down to write this one. Ended up going a bit Ghost in the Shell with it though. I thought I had more of a story here when I was brainstorming on my drive home, but when I sat down to type it out, the words weren’t there. I’ll want to revisit this one in the future, or fold the idea into one of my other stories.
We have recycling picked up every other week so I have a separate bin in the house for cardboard, paper, non-returnable plastic bottles, etc. We started that habit back in college since there were dumpsters for recyclables and have kept two garbage cans in the house at all times. We also like to return our bottles and cans for the deposits on them. We do what we can anyway. Now if only we could remember to bring our reusable bags when we shop.
Your turn. Do you recycle? What about your characters? Do you recycle characters? What about plots? Themes? These are things you might recycle in your writing after all. Might be worth noting!
Have a great night! I’ll be back tomorrow!
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