Tales of the Storage Space, Part 136

Tales of the Storage Space

The Storage Space didn’t even care when the ghost of that so-long-dead Shakespearean actor returned.  Didn’t even care enough to ignore it and avoid it as it had done for so many tired years.  Therefore, for the first time, it heard Edward’s thoughts.  He was pining for her, the one both of them grieved, the greatest actress of them all who had fallen to her death so many years ago.

“And just why did she fall to her death?” the Storage Space queried harshly.

But in all those long years only Karen, the one the Storage Space would still bestir itself to ignore, had heard anything it had to say.  The ghost of Edward did not.  Instead he kept thinking of some letter that was written in Switzerland in 1898.  And he directed his yearnings toward the pregnant teenager that was now gone.  Because he knew.

Idly the Storage Space watched the pregnant teenager’s father, still in Unit 38 sorting through those “data sticks.”  Frantic, he kept sticking one after another into a “laptop,” obviously looking for something he wasn’t finding.  Each failure resulted in his punching a metal wall.

But the Storage Space didn’t care.  It didn’t even care about the one both it and Edward had grieved all these long years.  Even when it knew she had been reincarnated into the baby the pregnant teenager now carried.

No.  At long last the Storage Space could only care about one thing:  regret that it, along with its once-beloved tea room now gone, hadn’t been torn down long ago.

Must Read

You May Also Like

MY BOOKS

Check out my newly released sci fi novella, Ships!

SHIPS:  Yet another sci fi novella I had a lot of fun writing, though this one’s a bit of a “soft” sci fi…slipstream, as they call it…with large parts set in present time and ordinary circumstances that are equally accessible to non-sci-fi readers.  (Still, along with my usual snarky/politically incorrect…
Read More
Barnett Berger

Barnett Berger: Six A.M.

The poem below is by Barnett Berger. Six A.M. The river sends its chill The stars above are incantatory Wishing me well Creation of sound is my purpose Heard or unheard Harmonious or distant Taut with dissonance Or flowing with the signals Calling sweet love I am a wingwalker And…
Read More
MY BOOKS

On The Road, Pittsburra: SFWA 2017 Nebula Awards Conference

All right, all right, it’s not Pittsburra, but rather Pittsburgh, but the last five letters are the same as in Edinburgh… Anyway, long ago I could have become an active member of “SIF-wuh.”  (Speaking of pronunciation, that’s how they say SFWA, which stands for Science Fiction Writers of America.)  But I…
Read More
Barnett Berger

Barnett Berger: No Two Snowflakes

The poem below is by Barnett Berger. No Two Snowflakes No two snowflakes are alike No object from sky to earth Could possibly be identical We don’t know the sky’s influence in formation We don’t know the objects encountered on the downward ride And we don’t know the impact on…
Read More
Menu