To the tune of “You Oughta Be in Pictures”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/You_Oughta_Be_in_Pictures
Composed by Dana Suesse and Edward Heyman
Originally recorded by Rudy Vallee.

https://youtu.be/aYkO1Jwlue4?si=JakMphzejll6iOID

Photo by Olga Solodilova on Unsplash

I blame it all on AI. So OK, everybody blames everything on AI these days, but in this instance it is the complete, unvarnished truth.

The ward bathroom. You are standing at the mirror with your shirt off and you don't know how long you've been standing here. The bathroom is empty except for you. The strip light hums above. Your hands are pressed flat against the sides of the belly, which is — large, is the only word, enormous compared to the last time you looked, the navel pushed outward, the skin taut and marked down the center by a dark line you didn't put there. You have been doing the inventory.

Part Seven

The gathering was held in a large, outdoor venue, one with a permanent stage. It currently also had folding chairs set on the concrete. Those seats nearest the stage had padding, for the comfort of honored guests (mainly donors). However, most of the chairs were unoccupied, padded or not. Over half the attendees for the event, "honored" or not, were actually in the padded chairs and still many were empty. The campaign organizers had seriously overbooked the facilities.

I woke early on Saturday, excited and terrified by the thoughts of the coming day. Probably more excited than terrified, yesterday’s excursion having done much to allay my fears. I checked the time; 5am. Still time for another snooze. I turned over, snuggled further into the duvet, closed my eyes, and stayed fully awake. After about 10 minutes or so, I decided I might as well get up and start to get ready. I wandered to the bathroom and was just about to step into the shower when I saw a small box on the shower tray with a note.

Wear this in the shower.

Chapter 3

When the crew had packed everything in the van, and Bernie had put his cameras in my car, Matthew opened an ice box and we all sat on the sand and talked about the day. Matthew proposed a toast.

“To Carol and the insights that she has brought to us.”

We clinked bottles.

Maltese Escape
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

They called ours a family, but it was not as you understand that word. A family is supposed to be a safe place to bring a child into the world, to nurture that child when very young, and to support him or her in at least the first part of a journey through life. That is what a family is supposed to be – not a money-grubbing enterprise where every member is expendable.

Part Six

We sent people to explore the empty ships right away. And we found... more documentation. In the parts of the world needing cleanup over the facilities, all the large bodies capable of helping with the cleanup were deployed that way. But here, I was free to participate in another document translation effort.

Chapter 2

I waited until we had finished dinner before I told my family the news.

“I went to Sydney this morning. I had a talk with the Head of News and came home as the new presenter for the ABC. My area is from the Gong to the border.”

Pauline squealed and stood up to give me a hug.

“That’s fantastic, Mummy. I’ll be able to see you on the box and shout at you without you yelling at me to be quiet.”

“Unless I’m in the room at the time, you minx.”