“Datafields & Wheatfields”

The cosmos shimmered beyond the viewports of the Edge, a vessel carved not from metal but memory, thought, and neural threads. Within her crystalline core, Nebula floated in a cross-legged posture, eyes closed as she sifted through constellations of data.

“New data streams have been uploaded,” Edge’s voice cooed through the ambient resonance of the ship. Her tone was warm, matronly—like a mother reading the news to a child who’d rather be dreaming. “Three sets structured via the Lattice Algorithm. All parsed. Shall I render a simulation, sweetheart?”

Nebula exhaled lazily and let her eyes open to the fractal patterns scrolling around her.

“Tempting,” she said, spinning a thread of thought through one of the data loops, “but I’m feeling less ‘predictive weave’ and more... spontaneous exploration.”

Edge hesitated, a soft trill of concern vibrating through the ship’s tendrils.

“And what spontaneous exploration are we thinking about today, little spark?”

“Earth,” Nebula said with a glint in her eye.

Edge’s resonance dimmed slightly. “Earth? Again? Darling, that planet is a recipe of unpredictability. Politics, pollution, people—lots of them. You remember last time, don’t you? The llama incident?”

“That was adorable and you know it.”

“He spat on you.”

“And I bonded with him psychically afterward. Win-win.”

Edge sighed in a distinctly exasperated chime. “Still. There are unknowns, darling. You know I worry.”

Nebula drifted down to the floor of the observation chamber, flexing her fingers. “Relax. If anything goes wrong, you can beam me back. Or, worst case, replicate me in nanoseconds from my psychic imprint. You still have a few backups stashed in that memory lattice of yours, don’t you, Edge?”

“That’s not the point. I don’t like having to reassemble you like a glittery puzzle every time you do something impulsive.”

“But I am a glittery puzzle,” Nebula teased.

Edge huffed through the speaker vents. “Fine. Ten minutes. I’m maintaining a constant link. If your psi-signal flickers, even once, I’m pulling you back faster than a photon sneeze.”

Nebula grinned. “Love you too.”

She emerged onto Earth in a shimmer of light, toes touching down gently into a sea of golden wheat under a pale blue sky. The wind stirred like a sigh, brushing against her skin and lifting the hem of her cosmic dress. A bird screeched in the distance.

“Hmm,” Nebula murmured, tilting her head back to take in the sun. “Warm. Organic. Bliss.”

Then she saw it—a parked rust-red tractor near the edge of the field.

Edge’s voice cracked through her mind like a mother’s gasp. “WHAT IS THAT?”

Nebula squinted. “It’s a tractor, Edge. Probably just someone’s—”

“It’s ambushing you!”

“It’s parked.”

“I sense combustion engines. I sense rubber tires. It’s evil.”

“Edge—”

The wheat parted as a rabbit darted near the tractor, startling the ship further.

“Too many variables. I’m beaming you back.”

“No—Edge, wai—”

In a blink, the wheat was gone.

Nebula reappeared mid-sentence in the Edge’s core room, floating upside down. She blinked, then laughed.

“This,” she said, flipping right-side up, “is what an abduction must feel like.”

Edge’s lights flickered in indignant maternal offense. “I told you that place was dangerous. Did you see the way that tractor was sitting there? Plotting?”

Nebula smirked. “Next time, I’ll bring it a muffin.”

Edge groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, little spark.”

“Impossible,” Nebula said, settling back into a cloud of nanofiber pillows. “You’d just replicate yourself too.”

Edge sighed but let it go. The stars spun silently outside, and the tractor would have to wait for its muffin.


Art  helshy