GRAYSCALE
Tropical ecologists didn’t last long on the Moon.
When HR added the Biome Nucleus Accumbens Response Test to its examinations, the number of freak-outs among the colonists suddenly reduced from a costly two out of three to a mere one out of five.
Suburbanites, accustomed to the clean geometry of their beloved square yardage, fared poorly on the Moon as well, and the Corp’s ACMR had been good at weeding out those applicants, as well as the ones who labeled their favorite childhood ages as those swaddled between zero and five. The tiny exam room was a test in and of itself to eliminate the claustrophobic. But the B-NART, as it was fondly called, was considered the most reliable predictor . . . KEEP READING
MOTHER’S LITTLE HELPERS
Everything changed with the sock sorters.
A vicious gift exchange had been waged at the company’s holiday party, the associates wrangling over the thermal blanket, the free month of lattes, and the pocket plasma TV as if these were unaffordable luxuries. The hotter items circulated between the tables. Becky watched Jack enter the fray intent upon separating the sports eyepiece from its wizened, temporary caretaker.
Jack obtained the eyepiece, only to lose it to a woman in the front. Its replacement moved from hand to hand to Jack. Everyone laughed. Jack held it up with a ferocious smile until they looked away and then he tossed it into Becky’s lap . . . KEEP READING
MORNING STAR . . . coming soon!