The Glass Battlefield
04/03/23 13:09
Microcosms 181
The Glass Battlefield
It was proving to be Shelly’s most difficult assignment yet, but she was determined to succeed for her most ambitious art glass project yet. The problematic local mafia groups was something she’d seen during earlier expeditions in rather sketchy areas of the world. Here though she was being escorted at distance - spied on - by the more problematic government “security,’ who probably suspected she’d try to get to the Restricted Zone.
She sipped on a vodka, turned off her room light and pulling back the curtain. Two agents were stood beneath a streetlight, completely happy to be seen by her; another two were in a long black car. Everyone was spied on in this country - and everyone was a spy. She laughed.
Her laptop resolutely refused to send or receive any data, effectively stopped by the amount of spyware attacking her old school ethernet port. It felt like she was truly back in the Cold War. Her excitement was growing though as she thought about getting out to the periphery of the area affected by infamous The Little Bomb. She’d be many miles from the centre of that most miserable of old battlefields. The area impacted by the radiation was now restricted, but the glass it had created from its heat and pressure had been flung out great distances, like a meteorite impact, and she was confident she’d find colourful ejecta at areas not too badly radioactive. She’d be picking up pieces with abandon in hours: the raw material for her priceless glass art made with these worthless spoils of war. By the time she’d blown her magic into the sad glass it would be eerily beautiful.
She opened the curtains again and saw her security entourage had disappeared; her in-country coconspirator had evidently done his stuff. The game was on.
_______________
300 words
Elements: Glass blower / Battlefield / Action
The Glass Battlefield
It was proving to be Shelly’s most difficult assignment yet, but she was determined to succeed for her most ambitious art glass project yet. The problematic local mafia groups was something she’d seen during earlier expeditions in rather sketchy areas of the world. Here though she was being escorted at distance - spied on - by the more problematic government “security,’ who probably suspected she’d try to get to the Restricted Zone.
She sipped on a vodka, turned off her room light and pulling back the curtain. Two agents were stood beneath a streetlight, completely happy to be seen by her; another two were in a long black car. Everyone was spied on in this country - and everyone was a spy. She laughed.
Her laptop resolutely refused to send or receive any data, effectively stopped by the amount of spyware attacking her old school ethernet port. It felt like she was truly back in the Cold War. Her excitement was growing though as she thought about getting out to the periphery of the area affected by infamous The Little Bomb. She’d be many miles from the centre of that most miserable of old battlefields. The area impacted by the radiation was now restricted, but the glass it had created from its heat and pressure had been flung out great distances, like a meteorite impact, and she was confident she’d find colourful ejecta at areas not too badly radioactive. She’d be picking up pieces with abandon in hours: the raw material for her priceless glass art made with these worthless spoils of war. By the time she’d blown her magic into the sad glass it would be eerily beautiful.
She opened the curtains again and saw her security entourage had disappeared; her in-country coconspirator had evidently done his stuff. The game was on.
_______________
300 words
Elements: Glass blower / Battlefield / Action