The swarm was right behind her as she brought the pontoon plane down for a landing on the outskirts of the island. She eyed the sky, scanned the sea to see if the fish had swarmed yet, and made the decision that she didn't have time to get to one of the safe shelters, so she'd have to go with the underwater marina cave. It took only a minute for her to yank all the organics out of the plane before the swarm could destroy them, and then she dove over the side of the boat and swam to the shore, or nearly to the shore, to the cluster of rocks that indicated where the cave could be found. One deep breath, and under she went, grateful that this time her run hadn't included bringing back any precious livestock. Getting them under the water and into the safe cave would have been pretty nightmarish, even if successful. Even the thought reminded her of how hard the kid goat had kicked the one time that she’d had to swim for shore with him. He was now a very popular goat on the island, since he bred true and his long hair had done great things for the weavers, and he kept the nanny goats happy and popping out kids, but she hadn’t liked him very much for a while. Inside the cave, the familiar glow of the phosphorescent lichen soothed her. It was edible in a pinch, and on the first year it had been very difficult to keep it protected enough that it would survive. When people were licking rocks in hopes of getting a little something extra. Now, of course, the sea population had rebounded like crazy from the overfishing that took place before the swarms, but---


Inspiration: http://www.flickr.com/photos/11087887@N03/9663534095/
Story potential: Low.
Notes: Okay, another apocalyptic scenario, but not one inherently more interesting than anything already going. Could be an okay setting detail, I guess, whether insect or robot swarm (or some hybrid?).

Robots thrive on routine, or so they say, and so will you when you have a new rob in the house. Especially in the first week, they have a very strict schedule of when you should do what, exactly, and how you should key your repeats. They recommend taking time off your work or any social commitments. Kind of like when you have a baby, except for only one week instead of six. After the Selt model went unhinged and started killing anybody nearby wearing yellow, because of an unfortunate incident with a deliveryman wearing yellow that the owner didn't even know had happened, the Yellow Law was passed to mandate unpaid time off with adoption of a new rob. Something about the first week of imprinting is key, and it can't happen at the factory, because it needs the owner (you) to be there with it. All the learning robs are like that. Everybody will tell you that the static robos are safer and more reliable--but they also fail on so many levels. A good rob can save your life in more ways than you might think. Every week in the news there's another story about--


Inspiration: Some email about kids needing routine, plus "Mahna, mahna" by Cake.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: Good character, though.

The small boy stumbled out into the street. She gasped, seeing it. He shouldn't ought to be here. All the children had been taken away to the countryside weeks ago, when they realized the war would stretch as far as this. He should have been safe. Had some loving parent not been able to bear being separated from their child? Had a neglectful relative not even realized the boy should be taken to safety? Just around the corner, she could hear the cold, metallic tromping of the mechanical army approaching. She felt herself full to overflowing with the bubbling essence that she would pour out in one great wave to destroy the army. Which was good. And herself. Which she had become resigned to. And the little boy. Which was unacceptable.


Inspiration: This poster from the vintage ads LJ community. http://vintage-ads.livejournal.com/3176648.html
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Eh. Also, geez, can you tell I'm a new mother much?

It had to do something, something arguably integral to the robot's function. It couldn't just be a piece of metal tacked on the outside. He thought. At first he thought of rerouteing the motor functions through a core in the center of the robot instead of through the main processing unit, but then he remembered that the Smith&Wesson R&D division had patented one like that just a few months ago. He sighed. It really was ridiculous the lengths they had to go to in order to differentiate what really was essentially the same type of robot. Finally, he decided to have a unique counting system, that summed all things up and ran repeated tallies on its surroundings and data to ensure number consistency.

Inspiration: The robotics panel at CONvergence.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: So, figure that all these people have to keep adding functional differences to their robots, and somehow that adds up to something more, either by combining or by producing different effects. Could also just be part of the background of another story.

They were obsolete. They sat on the shop's back cabinet and sighed to each other. "Nobody likes blondes anymore," complained the curvaceous doll.

The redhead scoffed at her. "That's not true, silly. Just nobody likes you. I saw the markers out front--blondes sell most."

"Why not me?"

"Because you're not the type they're looking for," the brunette spoke up, turning her head and staring directly at them with her empathic brown eyes. "They're looking for the later dolls."

"Those things?" the blonde protested. "You can't hardly tell they're supposed to be human!"

"They're not," chimed in the black-haired doll reclining on top of the cabinet, inspecting her nails. "They're something else. We're all meant to be human--"

Status: Written as "Unloved Dolls." Published under a pseudonym at Ruthie's Club (currently closed, plans to reopen in 2010) in the Valentine's Day 2009 issue.


Inspiration: "obsolete"
Story Potential: High. I find this creepy.
Notes: Right, so the (Japanese and elsewhere) trend for sex dolls, along with more human-like robots and better AI, is naturally leading in this direction. Duh. That's old news. But when the more human-like models swing out of fashion? What do they do? This could be done as erotica, but I think it would be more effective played as...ahem...straight science fiction. Heck, I could write 'em both.