So I’ve never written Flash Fiction before. But I just joined some new (to me) website that has regular flash fiction contests. They post the information for a couple of days along with multiple writing prompts. So the deadline is in forty minuets or so, and I decided to tackle one of the prompts. I’m pretty sure that it’s all based on likes, and I’m still learning to navigate the webpage let alone the small part about not having a proper account or followers. No worries though, I thought it would simply be a fun exercise. So I introduce you to Elizabeth 2.0 my first ever Flash Fiction!
“It’s the year 2050. Queen Elizabeth still reigns and people are starting to get suspicious.” – 500 word limit –
I looked her up and down, the twitch visible this time. “Your majesty, I fear that it is time for another upgrade.”
“U-u-up-p-pgrade?” Elizabeth’s asked, the blue flecks in her eyes sparking with each stutter.
I pulled out my tool set and started to undress the Queen. Not like that you sicko. I know exactly what you’re thinking and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You’ll have to understand that the queen’s power supply and motherboard is nested into her chest cavity.
“W-wa-wa-what is the p-p-pas-ss c-c-co-o-de?” Elizabeth questioned in an increasingly robotic voice.
“Passcode four-five-nine-alpha-foxtrot-seven-twenty-lima-red-clover.” I said. The queen would soon shut down and I’ll be able to do my repairs.
Historically speaking, Elizabeth should be coming up on her 124th birthday. Except that truth be told, that old hag died ages ago. She was so paranoid about giving up her thrown to her mudblood grandchild – too much Harry Potter I think. Elizabeth commissioned my family to turn her number one AI into a permanent fixture.
What’s her number one AI you ask? You can’t expect the Queen to actually attend all of her own benefits now can you? The queen had a number of artificial intelligence golems or if you prefer androids, of her self. Her number one, was her go to AI. Her favorite version so to speak. The one she was quoted calling the thinnest, or so my grandfather says.
My family has been trusted with the royal secrets for generations. It is our sworn duty to protect the royal family, at any cost. Which brings me to the problem today.
People have started to notice that Elizabeth isn’t aging anymore. At 124 years old the woman should be long gone! Even her son died fifteen years ago and Henry… Well I fear that Henry has caught on to our little charade.
Yesterday Elizabeth made the tabloids. She was attending a banquet where there was a robotic sushi master. The afternoon started well enough, but it quickly took a turn for the worst. There was a mishap with the robotics and one thing led to another and… well, lets just say that her sleeve caught on fire. Elizabeth, the Queen of England’s sleeve caught on fire!
I’m sure you can guess what happened next. Secret service took her away as quickly as possible but not before the paparazzi snapped photos. It was a PR disaster. Then people, and by people I mean Henry, started to ask questions. How did she recover so quickly, why don’t we call the physician.
Too many questions Henry!!!
I don’t know how much longer I can keep this going. People are going to find out, and when they do I’ll be out of a job. Not to mention in need of a new head.