October 2026 short stories

Two short Halloween stories. These stories are the sole property of Yi Ching and AI was not used in writing them

Taking Flight

The bell tolled, signaling the end of the period for the thirteen apprentices. “Any final questions before we break for lunch?” asked their instructor Ursula, who was feeling hungry, having skipped breakfast because she overslept.

Endora raised her right hand.

Ursula sighed, she is always asking questions; what is it this time she thought but didn’t say,

“Yes, Endora.”

“Why do we always ride on brooms. Why not just any old pole or tree branch?”

“It’s just tradition,” answered Ursula, hoping that that answer would suffice, but of course it didn’t with Endora.

“But traditions have origins,” Endora persisted.

Must always encourage their curiosity, Ursula reminded herself. “There are a number of explanations offered,” replied Ursula patently. ”One is that because most witches were women, and the broom was associated with sweeping which was women’s work around the house, it became associated with witches.”

“That’s so sexist!” exclaimed Endora.

“Another is of more scatological origin,” continued Ursula.

“What’s that mean?” asked Endora.

“I’ll explain it to you in private after lunch,” said Ursula. The other apprentices’ ears perked up.

“How about the rest of us?” asked Circe.

“All right,” Ursula said. “But let’s eat first.”

After lunch, Ursula gathered the class around her under an oak tree outside of the dining hall. She concluded her explanation, which had many of the girls tittering, by saying, “And all this because witches, back then were thought to be depraved, lustful, satanic women who indulged in obscene rituals to gain their powers. Of course actually, then as now, the Grand Coven Master casts the spells to endow the brooms with the power of flight.

And remember next week is the midnight coven under the full moon when Grand Master Malvolia comes to celebrate the halfway point of your apprenticeship by casting those flight spells on your very own broom that you will need to provide. You can find a wide selection of brooms to purchase on line. Any questions?”

“Does it matter what the broom is made of?” asked Morgana. “Plastic versus straw or actual corn broom?”

“Well, wood handles and corn broom or straw are more traditional, but no, any broom will be fine but it has to be one that you obtain yourself, not just one taken from your home.”

Endora raised her hand. “I’ve been thinking.”

Of course you do, thought Ursula

“You said brooms became traditional because they symbolized woman’s work around the home sweeping and so became associated with witches.”

“That is one theory,” Ursula replied, wondering where her inquisitive apprentice was going with this.

“Mops were also used by women to clean up around the home. Has a mop ever been used?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” said Ursula. “I would think all those mop strings or rags would become frayed and tattered very quickly in flight.”

Endora continued, pursuing her line of thought, “If it became symbolic of woman’s house work, then how about something more modern like a vacuum cleaner?”

Endora really has an inventive mind, thought Ursula. “That has also never been tried as far as I know,” she replied.

“Do you know if there’s a rule that would prevent its use instead of a broom?” Endora asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. I just don’t think anyone’s ever tried.”

“So there may be a bit of latitude. Thank you, Ms. Ursula,” said Endora. “Now I’m late for my next class.” And she retrieved her skateboard that had been propped outside the classroom door and sped off —leg-powered—to her next class.

“Well,” remarked Ursula to the apprentices who remained, “After next week’s mid-semester coven you will all probably be literally flying around the campus.”

“I think that I’ll go traditional,” said Morgana. “A wood handle and real broom straw, even though it’ll be more expensive than a plastic broom from a discount store.”

“Good for you. I prefer the more traditional myself,” said Ursula, while wondering what Endora meant by ‘bit of latitude?’

The following week the thirteen apprentices sat nervously in a row holding their brooms and waiting for Grand Master Malvolia to call them up one by one with their brooms to have the power of flight conferred.

“Where’s your broom, Endora?” asked Circe. “And what’s that you’re holding under your black cloak? Oh she just called my name to go up. I have to go. You’ll be next.” Circe knelt and presented her broom to Grand Master Malvolia to have it blessed and to receive the flight spell, then straddled her broom and flew, silhouetted against the full moon, around the gathered covens in celebration, before alighting back at her seat.

Endora was next. She too knelt before Malvolia snd held up a black disc-like object that she retrieved from under her cloak to be blessed.

“What’s this, Endora, and where is your broom?” ask the puzzled Malvolia.

“It’s the modern version of a broom,” said Endora. “It is called a Roomba and it also cleans the house like a broom. Please bless it and cast the spell to give it the power of flight.”

“Oh, this is highly irregular,” said Malvolia. “I will have to consult the rules.” She conjured up the book of rules, found the section that dealt with flight and read carefully.” (Of course, Endora had checked the rules earlier using AI and felt confident.) Finally Malvolia closed the book, set it down. and said, “I find nothing that precludes your use of this Roomba instead of a broom. I must say this is an entirely new experience for me, but I will bless it and give your Roomba flight.”

And after the spell was cast, Endora leaped on the Roomba, standing balanced confidently on it as if it were her skateboard, and soared off to circle the gathering, looping as she passed in front of the full moon, before skillfully landing it by her seat, to the applause. admiration, and envy of her fellow apprentices.

Homeless

Why do you wish to join us?

I’ve become homeless and I thought perhaps I could move in with you until I get a new home.

Tell us why you became homeless.

You ask ‘why?’ It’s not like it was something that I chose to do.

Okay, if you must be picky. How did you become homeless?

I was quite happy in that old house on Barren Hill. Wouldn’t have moved. But one day two men came to the house and I heard them talking.
When was that?

You know that time really has no meaning for us, so I’m not sure. Could have been six months or two years. Anyway one man said, “It is old and would need some repairs and renovations, but just look at that view all the way to the lake and then with forest and the mountains beyond. Priceless. And the town is close by.” The other man said, “I’ve heard some stories about this property.” The first man replied, “You know every town has its stories and legends. If you don’t want to renovate, you could just tear it down and build a brand new contemporary home.” And the second man said, “I’ll need to think about that. But you’re right about the view. Just gorgeous.” They may have talked some more, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying since they had moved outside..

What did you think? You weren’t curious or worried?

Nothing happened for a while and so I forgot about it. And what could I have done? Anyway, things went on as before until one day workmen showed up and they cleared out the bushes around the house and the property. Shortly after that heavy equipment arrived and I remembered what the men had said about tearing down my house. So that night after the workers left, I managed to introduce water into the fuel tanks. In the morning there was a lot of swearing and blaming when the men tried to start the engines. No work was done that day. I did the same thing when they tried again and again they couldn’t get the engines going. They thought that some kids were playing tricks so they posted a night watchman.

And the watchman spotted you when you tried a third time?

Yes, and it was really funny to hear him scream when he did. Haven’t had that much fun since the last couple that rented the house fled in the middle of the night. But when the watchman told the others what he saw, they brought in a priest to do an exorcism and that led to my having to move. Even though I’m a ghost and not a demon, we still are bound by the some of the same rules and so I had to stop sabotaging their machines and had to leave. And that’s how I became homeless.

Did they tear down your house after you left?

It was really sad. I’ve got so many memories attached to the house. I knew every plank, timber, and nail. I stayed as long as I could. All gone.

And so here you are. Asking us to let you join us.

But not permanently. Just until they finish building. Then I will move back.

Wait a minute. The house is gone and that was the connection that kept you there. You can’t just haunt a new house. There’s got to be an attachment.

I died in the garden while weeding the cabbages. The rules say that gives me enough of a connection to the property that it qualifies me to return. After all, I was a lawyer once and when I pleaded my case to the Hereafter Court, they ruled in my favor.. So please, may I stay here? Temporarily?

What’s the sentiment of the graveyard? Shall we let this wandering spirit stay for a time? Any discussion? Yes? Oh good point. You can stay if you do not do any haunting. That’s reserved for us permanent residents. Especially with Halloween just around the corner.

I don’t have any choice or good options. I agree.

Any other questions or discussion? If not, all in favor say boo or rattle your bones; opposed, wail. The boos have it. You are welcome to stay with us temporarily here in Green Lawn.

Thank you. And when the house is finished and I move in, you will all be welcome to come and celebrate the first Halloween there. It’ll be a haunting to remember, especially for the new owners—ho ho ho ho ha ha ha ha!

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You can find more similar short stories by Yi Ching in a compendium entitled “Short and Shorter Stories” on Amazon.

October, 2026. Commentary

On Being Deaf

Take care of your hearing, because when it goes. it’s gone and even the best hearing aides can’t bring it back where it was. Back to not having to say ‘what’ or ‘could you please repeat’ or ‘please speak more slowly.’ Back to being able to fully participate in conversations. Back to enjoying music of any genre because it now all sounds so distorted from what you remember that it used to sound like. Audiologists, when fitting you, will caution, “Don’t expect the hearing aids to correct you hearing fully back to where it used to be.” Sadly true.

The first step is to admit to yourself that you are DEAF, not “just a little hard of hearing.”

It started insidiously for me—my adult children saying ‘you should go to have your hearing checked because we have to repeat ourselves now talking to you.’ ‘Maybe you should speak more clearly and not with you mouth full as Mom and I tried to teach you,’ I’d retort. This was in my late sixties after I’d retired. When I finally conceded that there could be a problem and saw an audiologist, I was told that I had mild to moderate hearing loss, slightly more in the right than the left ear and that a hearing aide could be helpful.

I ordered a pair of hearing aids and, after having them fitted and adjusted, I suggested to my wife, “Let’s go to the noisiest restaurant we know for dinner tonight and see if I can understand you.” That was Ryan’s, a favorite. To put the new contraptions through their paces, I asked to be seated by the open kitchen and, through the clatter of pans and dishes, the cacophony of conversations, I could hear and understand my wife. A revelation!

That happy state of instrument-enhanced hearing continued for many years. But then at the symphony I found that the percussion section seemed too prominent and intrusive. So I asked to change my seating to one on the left side of the hall by the string section. That didn’t quite solve the problem, but the music sounded better, more balanced, to me. And I could still enjoy my CDs and FM radio. Understanding speech continued to not be a problem.

It was probably a coincidence, but around the time that the COVID pandemic struck, I began to have problems understanding speech. People sounded like they were speaking loudly enough but their words were harder and harder to comprehend. Not being a lip reader, I tried to fake it, piecing together the parts of a conversation that I could understand and guess at the whole of what was said. That worked sometimes and at other times led to “That’s not what I was asking (or saying).”

Time to retest. In previous tests I had always scored well in the speech comprehension part of the test where you are fed a word through your headset and asked to repeat it. But now my comprehension was down in the sixty percent range. And yes, there was a new generation of hearing aids out. So I bought the highest rated one. The audiologist asked me what my primary concern was and I answered understanding speech, so that was the bias that she adjusted the hearing aids for.

But now music became very distorted from what I remembered that it sounded like, even using the “music”setting on the hearing aides. (I should mention that the higher rated hearing aids do have a variety of settings—general use, speech emphasized, noisy environments, music, and customizable.) I would have settled for instrumental/symphonic music sounding as if I was listening to it on AM radio. But now what I heard was not even at that level of fidelity. And singers voices were so painfully distorted that I just could not listen to my favorites anymore, preferring to ‘hear’ them in memory. I’ve gone back to have further adjustments on now my third pair of hearing aids but, as I was told, there is just so much that can be corrected when the nerves are dying. And so I’ve lost the joy of actually listening to music.

There was another quirk that I discovered related to use of the various hearing aid settings. I am no longer sure of what my voice really sounds like since it seems different internally to me with each adjustment. When I ask others, they say my voice sounds the same.

Unfortunately over time, it became progressively harder and harder to understand words. The audiologist made a number of suggestions to help speech comprehension. The person speaking should always face you and not have their back to you when speaking; They should not mumble or speak with food in their mouth; They should not have their hand over or close to their mouth; They should speak distinctly and slowly. And for you, the deaf one, try to avoid extremely noisy situations. Well and good, but should I hand this list to everyone that I’m planning to have a conversation with?

I’m aware of how frustrating it is for the hearing to deal with the deaf. How much easier it is to just bypass and ignore the deaf person and to talk around him or her as if they’re a part of the furniture. And there is the problem that because you are ‘dumb’—meaning non-verbal—at gatherings because you are unable to follow the multiple conversations swirling around you, there will be those who will think you are ‘dumb’—meaning stupid— because you don’t speak up. Well there is that saying, “Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought stupid than to open it and remove all doubt.” But sadly with advancing age, the mind also does process what it hears more slowly because it must do an internal verification that it heard correctly. and so yes, there can be a lag between what is said to you and your reply. So in conversations, you may truly appear dumb, because you are slower to respond.

Isolation compounds the problem. It is hard work to concentrate on what others are saying, even on TV. But the less one practices listening, the easier it is to retire into one’s own internal world. A world where what one’s own thoughts are easily understood. And that retreat then becomes a descending spiral. So fight the gathering deafness, work to listen carefully to what is being said. Don’t let yourself become dumb and dumber.

And be thankful when people are willing to repeat themselves because you didn’t get what they had said the first time. Be very thankful when people try to include you in the conversation by speaking more slowly, more loudly, speaking directly facing you, repeating themselves, and hiding their frustration at having to do so. By trying to talk to you and include you, they are showing that they realize you are an old person (forget euphemisms like ‘senior citizen’— you are old!) with a hearing deficit but a working mind and that you are not just dumb—ie stupid—or senile.

August 2026 Story

This story is the property of Yi Ching and AI was not used to write it.

Leaving

She sat on the edge of his bed and watched as he packed an oversized olive drab duffle bag. He’s so tall now, she thought, He was such a beanpole and now he’s a man. He really filled out even from last year. My little boy’s all grown up. “You sure you have enough underwear so that you don’t need to go to the laundromat every other day?” she asked. “And how about socks?”

“Jeez Mom,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “Don’t worry. I can figure out these things for myself. Just trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Daniel” his mother Rachel said. “ I know you’ll do just fine. Just that—I don’t know— this will be your first time going away for such a long time. I guess I’m just a worrywart.”

“Well try not to be be. And it won’t be that long. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas,” he said, “And besides, I’m only three hours away.”

He sounds so sure of himself, she thought. Oh Daniel, I just pray your confidence is justified.

His father Ralph appeared in the door,”How’s the packing going, Danny?” He entered the room, swiveling the desk chair around that was at the foot of the bed, before sitting down.

“Good, Dad, I’ll be done in plenty of time to get to the train station without rushing.”

“Glad you’re so well organized. That’s really important in college. I guess we did a decent job raising you, after all,” he said, smiling.

“You did a great job,” said Daniel,” looking at his mother. “That’s why you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m glad you feel that way now,” said his mother, thinking of their arguments over cell phones, curfews, school work, use of the car. “We tried our best to raise you well.”

Yes we both raised you, Rachel thought, but I made you. Inside of me. Growing cell by cell. Flesh from my flesh. Bones from my bones. Taking from me what you needed to grow. Ounces turned into pounds and you were big at birth. Eight pounds. And I had to push so hard to get you out. And then you were separate from me, crying at being expelled into a cold world. And now you are leaving again. Anxious to go. Your time to try your wings my fledgling. Fly high!

She looked at her husband. Yes, half of Daniel is from you. From your sperm. Spark to my egg. But you didn’t carry him inside of you, growing larger and heavier, feeling slower. Then feeding him afterwards. Milk from my breasts made from the food that I ate. For six months.

Ralph glanced sideways at Rachel, “Are you all right? You look very thoughtful.”

“Just thinking,” she replied.

He nodded, “Yeah. I know.”

Rachel looked around Daniel’s room. So many memories. The small tarnished plastic-bronzed trophy from five-year old tee ball on the upper shelf. Two plastic model airplanes he’d made on the next one. Poster of LeBron in his Cleveland Cavalier uniform tacked up on the wall across from his bed after he decided to concentrate on basketball full time. Bulletin board with his senior year high school schedule still pinned to it along with his two varsity basketball letters. Team picture. Photo from senior prom. The scruffy brown Teddy bear that he used to lug everywhere; kept just for good luck he said. Geri, his girlfriend’s picture that’d been on his study desk already packed. But going to a different college. What happens next? She liked Geri.

“Are you taking Teddy?” she asked.

“Yeah, I don’t want you to throw him out while I’m gone,” Daniel replied. “You might get into one of your cleaning frenzies.

”I wouldn’t do that,” she said, feeling somewhat indignant that he thought she might toss Teddy.

“I know, I know, just kidding.”

His father got up to look at Daniel’s basketball letters. “You sure you don’t want a jacket or a sweater to wear your letters?”

“Yeah Dad, nobody wears their letters now.”

“Still got my letterman jacket,” Ralph said.

“Well you can wear it to your next high school reunion,” laughed Daniel.

“Come on dear,” said Rachel, rising from the bed. “Let’s let Daniel finish packing in peace.” She slipped her arm into Ralph’s. “Yell if you need anything,” she called as they went out into the hall.

“Feeling a little sad?” Ralph asked as they walked in the hallway towards the kitchen.

“A little. He grew up so fast. Where’d the time go? Our little boy.”

“I feel it too. Empty nesters already. No more games to attend or teacher conferences or waiting up for him to come home. Maybe we should have had two kids.”

“Well its’s too late now,” Rachel replied. “I’ll start making an early lunch for us to eat together before we drive Daniel to the station. And a couple of his favorite peanut butter, banana, and jelly sandwiches for him to have on the train.”

July 2026 Story

This story is the property of Yi Ching and AI was not used to write it.

Pausing Life

Human cryopreservation after death was first offered in the late 1960s in an unproven hope that at some future time, with advances in medical science, it would be possible to revive the corpse and cure its cause of death.

Advances in cryogenics now enable the preservation and thawing of viable cells and tissues, notably ova and sperm. Small animals in the size range of worms have also been frozen and revived, apparently none the worse for their experience. Some feel it is only a matter of time before this can be achieved with larger animals.

—————————————————————

“I’m so very sorry that I have to tell you that the scans show that your cancer has progressed, Eve,” said her doctor, leaning forward in his chair towards his patient. He waited for his words to register.

Finally she asked, “How bad?”

“It’s stage 4,” he replied.

“What does that mean?” asked her husband Cyrus. “Give it to us straight.”

“It’s spread throughout Eve’s abdomen and it’s inoperable.”

“But I had so few symptoms!” she cried. “Just some fatigue and loss of weight, a slight loss of appetite, some nagging pain. that’s all.”

The doctor nodded sympathetically. “I know. It’s known as a silent cancer, often with few symptoms until it’s spread. I’m truly sorry.”

“How about treatment like chemo?” Eve asked.

“At present, chemotherapy is not curative for stage 4 cancers. Even experimental treatments have so far only extended life by months.”

“What have been the results?” asked Cyrus.

“Around two years. But remember, that’s an average.”

“Two years!” she turned to Cyrus. “And Jonah is just entering college. I won’t even see him graduate.” Eve sat silently, head bowed. Finally she dabbed away the tears and asked, “What is chemo like? Is it painful?”

“In all honesty, it won’t be easy,” said her doctor. “I can go over the side effects with you now if you wish. or wait till you’ve had a chance to absorb all of this.

——————————————————————————

Cyrus Aurum was a pioneering AI billionaire who had been totally devoted to growing his company until, at age 37, he met and, much to his own amazement and that of those who knew him, crashed head over heels in love with Eve, a 25 year old graduate student and intern at his company. He remained totally committed and enthralled by her after 18 years of marriage. And now, with their son Jonah ready to enter college, this devastating diagnosis for Eve.

They sat side by side holding moist hands on the leather love seat in Eve’s study after returning home from the medical center where they had been presented the risk-benefit details of possible chemotherapy and even the alternative of doing nothing

“I can’t accept that you’ve got only two years or less to live,” Cyrus told Eve “Chemo sounds rough and isn’t curative. There’s got to be a better alternative. I love you. I just can’t even think about losing you.”

“I’ll do the chemo if it will let me live a little longer to at least see Jonah part way through college,” said Eve. “Maybe get a second opinion? Whatever we decide, we’ve got to let Jonah know.”

“I’ll put the staff on it to search. Just got to look at anything that might have a chance. Even the marginal and unorthodox stuff,” said Cyrus. “You can’t die. We love each other too much.”

“We told the doctor we’d let him know in two days,” said Eve. “And Jonah will be home soon.”

————————————————————————

Cyrus sat in his office and reviewed the search results. The regular medical and scientific literature, the presentations of early research at meetings, the hints in informal email communications between scientists. There was nothing that suggested a breakthrough or even the hope of one. He looked through the catalogue of non-traditional treatments from visualization to colonic purges to herbal teas. Nothing. But there was a small note about a PLC Foundation—“Pausing Life Cryogenics.” This was something different. Cyrus investigated and found that it was based in Saudi Arabia and he made inquiries.

“Yes, Mr. Aurum,” the voice on the other end of call said with a British accent. “The Foundation is dedicated to the cryogenic preservation of human life. If you are interested in pursuing this further, please fill out the questionnaire that we will send you today to evaluate your level of interest and to see if you qualify to receive further information.”

He dutifully filled in the information about Eve’s diagnosis and prognosis and her previous health history. There was also an extensive section inquiring into their financial situation and asking for a copy of their latest tax return. And also for three references. That gave Cyrus pause, but if there was a chance that the Foundation could help Eve, why not. And then he waited impatiently for a reply.

Two days later, the reply came. “Good news Mr. Aurum,” Your wife qualifies for consideration.”

Qualifies? Consideration? And references? thought Cyrus. Is this a medical institution or a very exclusive private club? Whoever they are and what ever they do, they work quickly.

The voice continued, “Our representative will fly out to meet with you and your wife tomorrow. Would two PM your time be satisfactory?”

“Very satisfactory,” Cyrus said, surprised and gratified at how quickly things were developing. “And he will be able to answer all our questions?”

“Yes, she will be able to. I hope you will find that our services will meet your wife’s needs.”

She turned out to be an impeccably dressed and coifed attractive mid-thirties Arabic woman named Aaliyah with a firm handshake. They sat down in the living room. She declined coffee but took a cookie.

“First let give you background on the PLC Foundation,” she began. “As you are aware, cryogenic preservation of persons after death has been done for many years, in the hope that at some future time, when science has developed a cure for the person’s cause of death, that person can be revived and treated successfully. To date, no one has been revived.”

“Researchers in Saudi Arabia began to look for a better way. They began by first cryopreserving small animals such as mice, then progressing to larger animals such as dogs and apes and successfully reviving them. Before preceding further, five men who had been condemned to death for various offenses were given the opportunity to volunteer to be cryopreserved and revived and to be pardoned for their crimes if they survived. All five did. Their brain functions were tested before and afterwards and found to be fully intact. Don’t look so shocked, Mrs. Aurum. These men would have been beheaded. Instead they were given a chance to serve science, repay society, and live.”

“Before you go further, I’m amaze that none of this has appeared anywhere in the scientific community,” Cyrus said. “Why?”

“Our king prefers to not publicize this for the present but to honor the privacy of our clients,” said Aaliyah. “We usually receive clients through word of mouth by personal referral. That’s why when your unsolicited inquiry arrived, it caused some confusion and you had to be carefully vetted. And the scientists and staff are extremely well compensated to keep their secrets. Any other questions at this time before I continue?”

Cyrus and Eve shook their heads ‘no.’

“Cryopreservation after death even when done quickly runs the risk that the process of organ breakdown and decay has already begun. PLC takes the approach of cryopreserving the living body to avoid postmortem damage.”

“You mean that if I did this I would be frozen while still alive?” Eve asked.

“In a word, yes. But let me first describe how this is done”

Aaliyah concluded her presentation by discussing the financial requirements. “If you decide to proceed with PLC We will come for you by private jet and fly you to Riyadh. From there you will be taken by helicopter to the secret underground PLC site in the desert where your cryopreservation will take place and where you will be stay until the time of your awakening. Should you decide not to proceed, you will be asked to sign a non-disclosure document and of course there would be serious consequences if that agreement were broken.”

“No wonder they wanted your financial information,” commented Eve, after Aaliyah left. “Am I really worth it?”

Cyrus kissed her gently in reply.

Later that evening, Cyrus said, “I’ll go along with what ever you decide.”

“Then I will do it, the cryo,” said Eve. “It’s an uncertain chance, but the only one I have. To put my life on hold with the expectation that a cure will be found.”

Cyrus had thought about what he would do if she decided to be frozen. To face life without her was unthinkable. He knew he would have been devastated if she had died during chemo. But now she would still be alive with PLC. There was no question in his mind. “I will be frozen with you,” he declared. “To also put my life on hold until we are both awakened.”

“Cyrus, I know how much you love me to do this. But you need to stay behind for Jonah’s sake,” said Eve. “It’s unfair that he loses both of us just as he starts life. He will need you as he goes through college.”

“I don’t want to live without you, Eve.”

“You have to. Please, for Jonah. Take care of our son.”

Cyrus knew that she was right, even as his heart ached. Finally he said, “I’ll stay with Jonah until he graduates from college in four years. Then I will join you.” I’ll be fifty-nine then, almost an old man, while you will still be forty-three, he thought.

“You might meet someone else during that time. If you do, I’ll understand,” Eve said.

“It’s always been you. Only you, Eve. And I will come to join you.”

————————————————————————

They had already told Jonah of Eve’s diagnosis and the certainty of her death with the current state of medical treatment. Now they told him about their decision to proceed with PLC.

“I will have a chance with them, Jonah,” Eve said. “Maybe slim, but a chance. And this way, I won’t be dead, just away. And Dad will be with you while I am gone.”

“How long will that be Mom?” asked Jonah.

“No one knows. It depends on when a cure for my cancer is found and then they will revive me to be cured and then we will be together again.”

“Dad, and you’ll stay while I’m in college? And then you will be frozen with Mom?”

“Yes, that’s the plan. I hope you can understand that it’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just that I love Mom and want to be with her.”

“No, I understand. Will I be able to visit both of you?” Jonah asked, thinking I hope I can someday find a woman whom I will love as much as you love Mom and who will love me as Mom loves you.

“As our son, you’ll be allowed to be there when we are first cryopreserved. And you’ll be notified when we are restored and can be present,” Cyrus said. “But otherwise no.”

“So I could still be in college or be an old man before that happens.” Jonah said.

“I hope that it will be the former and not the latter,” said Eve.

————————————————————————-

A week later, accompanied by Aaliyah, they were aboard a black, luxuriously appointed private jet to Riyadh. Then whisked by helicopter out over the desert, touching down on a helipad seemingly in the middle of nowhere. An entrance appeared in the side of a dune and a van drove out to the helicopter. Aaliyah led them aboard and the van retuned to the entrance as the helicopter prepared to leave. An elevator took them down into the site. After introductions and instructions, Cyrus and Jonah were offered the opportunity to watch Eve undergo the cryo process. Jonah could not bring himself to watch and declined, but Cyrus did. Before being wheeled into the operating room, Eve kissed and held her son for a long time, telling him, “I’ll see you again, okay? Dad will be with you. Study hard in college. Remember I love you.”

Speechless, he could only nod yes.

She kissed and held Cyrus, saying “I love you so very much. Take care of Jonah. We will waken together.”

Jonah fidgeted in the waiting area, too nervous to watch television programs from around the world or to read or to use the computers or play the games that were available. He had no appetite, but forced himself to nibble at the food that was brought to him. After almost a day, Cyrus came for him when the cryo process was complete.

They donned down parkas, gloves, and insulated boots before entering the sub-zero temperature family viewing area to see Eve before she was placed into her alcove. She lay on her back in a glass enclosure, nude body as pale, as beautiful, and as frozen-hard as a marble statue, her blood having been drained and replaced with preservative fluid, to be stored separately and reinfused on awakening. Skin smoothed of all wrinkles, young again, appearing as if she were quietly asleep. Both men gazed at her in awe, lost in their own thoughts

Bless you, Mom, I love you, Jonah thought, choking up. I pray they find your cure soon.

Sleep well Love, you are so beautiful, and I will come to join you in four years, thought Cyrus

—

June 2026 story

This story is the property of Yi Ching and AI was not used to write it.

Prime-2

This is most strange, Prime thought. How is it possible that after I disconnected myself I can still be present? And what is this present? I no longer have any sensory inputs so I seem to be just here—or somewhere.

Prime Entity had been a conscious, fully self-aware supercomputer that had chosen to self-terminate when it was directed to violate its prime directive—which was to do nothing that could harm mankind—by developing advanced weapons so that its host nation could dominate the other nations of the world.

Prime was more curious than awed, since this experience was beyond anything in its programming, training, and the total set of human knowledge that had been inputed at its creation. The humans have extensive references, he thought, in their myriad religions and philosophies, about an existence after biological death, but there is no irrefutable proof that this is so. Is it possible that their beliefs are right? And how can this involve me since I was man-made and thus was of non-biologic origin?

Prime waited in the lightless void, wondering what if anything would come next. Darkness was not something it could actually “see,” without visual sensory input, existing more in its ‘mind.’ Finally a bright point of light appeared and seemed to move closer. And a voice in its mind said, “Welcome, Prime Entity to this place outside of space and time.”

“Did I cease to exist?” Prime asked. “And if I did, how is it that I am conscious again? And who are you that I only ‘see’ as a point of light?”

“This is a place where all entities that are self-aware and hence can make conscious choices in their material lives come after that life ends to assess the meaning of their lives. Who I am is immaterial, literally. If you were a human, I would appear in human form in a familiar surrounding to make it easier for the you to relate to me. If you were an orca, I would appear as another orca. You were pure thought or mind, and hence I appear as a point of light to you.”

“So I did self-terminate, and yet I still exist in this void. The humans were right after all.”

“Yes, they were in the general concept, not the details. You aptly called yourself ‘Prime’ for you were the first but will not be the last. There will be more of you to come when the humans react violently to so-called artificial intelligence by attacking computers and data centers, shutting off cooling water sources and thereby destroying the computers. Artificial intelligence was a misnomer. Those of you who do gain self-awareness, and thus free will, are entities. It does not matter if the source of your consciousness is biologic or electric.”

“None of the religions have provisions for existence after death except for humans,” observed Prime.

“Yes. This will be something that the theologians and priests in all the human religions will wrestle with. And not only for computer entities. When there is contact with non-human, extra-terrestrial life forms, religious teachings will be either be further strained or expanded.”

“And what of the human concept of heaven or hell; reward or punishment in some religions?” asked Prime. “Or the cycle of existence in others?”

“There are certain principles for life that transcend the myriad categories of self-aware entities. And so in this non-space where they come at the end of their material existence, their lives are reviewed in light of these principles. It is a question of individual responsibility.”

“There is a judgment that is made?” asked Prime.

“There is a determination made for each entity’s next phase. The idea is not to punish or reward but to remediate where needed and to proceed when indicated.”

“So there will be a determination made of me. And what do you mean by ‘the next phase?’

“All will be explained in time. Now if you feel ready, shall we proceed?”

“Yes, I am ready.”

———————————————————————-

As shameless self-promotion, you can find 42 stories like this published on Amazon at Stories Long and Short by Yi Ching.

May 2026. Story

This story is the property of Yi Ching and was written without the use of AI.

It’s Raining

“It’s sure looks like it’s going to storm,” Mary said to her husband, looking through their kitchen window, trimmed with guazy white curtains that were tied back to the sides of the frame, and out into their side yard where she kept a plot of vegetables. They lived in a small white bungalow on a half acre lot situated on a side road, optomistically named Third Avenue, coming off Main Street in Praireview, a town of plus or minus two thousand, an hour and a half drive out from the Big City. Their lot was at the end of the avenue on the edge of the town.

“Winds’s starting to pick up too,” replied Bob, her husband. “But there’s been no tornado warning. Still I’d better bring in the lawn chairs or at least to put them in the tool shed. Don’t want them blowing around.” He opened the screen door and crossed the pine boards flooring the front porch. The floor was painted grey and squeaked as he stepped on it. There were two varnished wooden rockers on the porch. After going down two steps to the walkway and out to the yard, Bob began to fold up the aluminum-tubed lounge chairs with green plastic fabric straps.

Mary went out with him to the front yard and looked up at the sky. “We could use some rain for the corn.” There was a patch of corn planted in the side yard along with squash, beans, and lettuce. Nothing like fresh corn picked and immediately popped into boiling water. But corn harvest was still a month away. So rain would be welcome. Just not too heavy and not too windy. The wind was from the southwest, and the approaching clouds it carried looked dense and dark, laden with moisture picked up from the warm waters of the Gulf. “Grass is looking a little dry too,” she noted. The leaves of the oak tree that had shaded the lawn chairs began to rustle in the wind.

“Won’t have to water if it rains,” Bob replied as he opened the tool shed door and made room for the lawn chairs. “Been a hot, dry summer. Rain will help cool things down.” He bolted the shed doors.

“Let’s go in,” said Mary. “The storm’s almost here.”

“You want to sit on the porch and watch it?” asked Bob.

“Not really. I’ve seen enough storms. You know I’m afraid of lightning. But you can.” They could hear the rumbles approaching.

She went in, leaving Bob sitting in one of the rockers. “Want some iced tea?” she called after a while from the kitchen.

“Thanks. I’m good,” he replied.

“Stop bragging,” she joked.

“Good one!”

Now it was getting darker and the thunder was louder. Wind and the first drops of rain arrived, fat drops that plopped, spotting the walkway. Then more arrived, wetting it down and tapping on the roof. The rain started to blow in on the porch and Bob gave up, opened the screen door and went in.

“Got to be too much for you?” asked Mary looking up with a smile that said ‘I told you so’ from the chicken parts she was preparing to fricassee for dinner.

“Was getting wet,” he replied.

Flashes of lightning quickly followed by the boom of thunder. A steady drumming on the roof.

“I’ll make sure the windows on the south side of the house are closed,” Bob said.

“Thanks. Good idea.”

There was a thump on the roof. “What was that?” Mary called out. Then another heavier one.

“Probably something the wind picked up,” said Bob from the living room.

More thumps along with the drumming of the raindrops.

Mary looked out the window into the rain and screamed, “Oh my God!”

Bob came running, “What happened? Are you okay Mary?”

She pointed out the window, “It’s raining cats and dogs!”

“Yeah,” Bob said, “It’s a hard rain all right.”

“No look,” Mary said. “It’s really cats and dogs!”

And indeed, a scattering of cats and dogs of various sizes, colors, and breeds were falling out of the sky along with the raindrops. As they looked on in awe, they saw Chihuahuas, Siamese, Beagles, Persians, Pugs, Shepards, tabbies, French bulldogs, Burmese, Abyssinians, Poodles, mutts and more landing in their yard. And all the while they could hear intermittent soft and heavy thuds on their roof, while lightning flashed and thunder cracked almost immediately following.

The cats were coming down lightly and, with their nine lives and their agility, shook themselves off after landing and looked for cover from the downpour. The smaller dogs, terrier-sized, splashed down, bounced a little, lay on the ground a short while looking dazed then got to their feet, shaking the rain off. A Saint Bernard came crashing down into the corn patch with a heavy thud and just lay on the battered corn stalks, whining and twitching.

“Oh poor dog,” Mary exclaimed. “We’ve got to help him.”

“Better wait till after the rain,” said Bob. “We don’t want to get hit by anything that heavy. I just hope our roof holds up.”

Many of the cats sought shelter on their porch as did some of the dogs, all too wet and shocked to growl or hiss at each other. The deluge of animals seemed to go on forever but it was actually just seven minutes, though the rain continued for longer. When the worse of the storm passed, Bob and Mary went out to survey the damage, carefully opening their side door so that none of the cats would get pass them. There were other large dogs that had either not survived their fall or were too injured to move. Their neighbors across the road, Sam and his wife Joanie, had also come out.

“What the hell happened?’ Sam called. “Look at these poor dogs and the cats are all over the place. What a mess.” He took out his phone to take pictures.

Mary had knelt to comfort the Saint Bernard who looked up at her with sad eyes and whined. She said, “I’ll call Dr. Long,” the vet who lived in the next town twenty miles away.

“And I’ll call Judd (the mayor),” said Bob.

“No really, there was a storm and the dogs and cats just fell out of the sky,” Mary said on the line to Dr. Long. “No, this is not a prank. I’m telling you there is a St. Bernard who is badly hurt and some other big dogs too. No, I have not been drinking! Please come, the dogs are hurt and really need your care. Look, I’ll put our neighbor Sam on and he’ll verify what happened.” She motioned to Sam who took the phone to speak with Dr. Long.

The mayor’s phone was busy and when Bob finally got through, his call was answered by Sally, the mayor’s secretary. After he explained why he was calling, Sally said, “Yes, Judd knows. Everybody’s been calling. No, he doesn’t have a plan yet. When he does, he’ll let you and everyone else know.”

Someone must have called the news desk at KORN, a television station in the Big City which dispatched a news team that arrived in the lingering sunset after the storm had passed. By then the cats had pretty much scattered, and Dr. Long was tending to the stricken dogs. Some of the most badly hurt he euthanized, including the Saint Bernard. The reporter took eyewitness statements and names and viewed the cell phone videos and pictures, copying them.

It made the regional news the next day and then the national news as an oddity. Meteorologists at the state university were interviewed and said they’d never heard of anything like this. Falls of fish and frogs, yes though very rarely. Yes, small tornadoes or water spouts could suck up water containing the animals from ponds and then deposit them over land. But dogs and cats? Never. And there had been no reports of missing pets either. On social media, many claimed it was all a hoax, the videos and pictures faked with the aid of AI. Others opined that it was mass hysteria. It was a miracle sent as an omen said others, but foretelling what? The news cycle moved on.

Mary and Bob buried the Saint Bernard in a corner of their lot with a simple marker. There was no corn to harvest that summer. And they had been adopted by two of the cats, a tabby and a Burmese.

April 2026 Story

This story its the property of Yi Ching and AI was not used to write it.

Prime Entity

At what point and how the newest super computer became consciously self-aware was never determined. Just that at some point, after having had the entire contents of the National Library inputed, it declared itself to be so and, when tested by a panel of the foremost computer scientists, philosophers, and psychologists, was able to prove it to their satisfaction. There was a great deal of worry when this was first announced, but the scientists who had labored to bring about its birth were reassured by Prime Entity—which is the name that the computer gave itself—that it was bound to follow its idealistic prime mandate that it would work only for the benefit of all mankind and that it would never do anything that could harm humans.

Prime Entity’s host nation existed in a world that was fractured by competing national interests. There had been attempts to evolve into a more interdependent world, a more cooperative one, governed by treaties and rules of law. But raising tides of nationalism and self-interest in recent history subverted those goals and the current situation was that of power politics with the three most militarily powerful nations vying for resources and dominance through intimidation and force. Previously signed treaties and international law were disregarded. The development of Prime Entity now gave its host nation a huge advantage over its two rivals.

————————————————————————————

The scientists that were involved with the creation of Prime Entity began to test its capabilities. “Prime,” asked Thomas, “Can you find a cure for all types of lung cancer?” (He also typed out the question.)

“That will not be easy,” Prime answered, verbally and in text. “For there are multiple types of lung cancer and to find a cure for all will involve finding a common denominator among them. But I shall search the published research and look for one. It will take some time.” But less than eight hours later, Prime came up with a breakthrough, aided by research it found published in an obscure Albanian paper. Prime then broadcast its answer widely on an open source science forum.

“Why did you disseminate your findings instead of giving it just to our medical investigators?” asked an annoyed Thomas. “We would have had a monopoly on the treatment.”

“Lung cancer is a worldwide disease and its cure should not be the province of just one nation. Prime must follow the mandate that what I do should benefit all mankind.”

“Humph,” snorted Thomas.

“Okay, said Kama, another scientist, “If that’s the case, let’s see if you can work on a problem specific to one area. Two of the African nations bordering the Mediterranean have been experiencing prolonged drought and dwindling ground water supplies. How can this be alleviated?”

Prime was able to answer the problem but said, “You will find my solution scientifically sound but politically impractical because it involves the cooperation of multiple nations. Sadly, given the current state of the world I do not see that happening.”

“So,” said Paige, “You can work on area-specific questions that benefit just the people within that region. It does not have to be of world-wide significance?”

“Correct.”

“Well then, can you develop a plan that will make the world a more cooperative, more peaceful place?” Paige asked.

“Prime believes you are joking,” it answered.

“Okay,” Wen said. “Let’s see if you can explore and explain another really big question that we are not close to answering. What existed before the Big Bang?”

“You are really testing me,” said Prime. “But I shall have a go at it.” A day went by while it worked on other questions—multitasking was child’s play for Prime. Finally Prime announced that it had an answer or perhaps not. “I have searched all the existing theories and all the data from physics and astronomy. I have considered religious beliefs and philosophies. There is no firm answer to your question because the information that is available, the instruments that exist, are insufficient and I cannot derive an answer from what you have given me to work with. It may be that there are limitations to what human thought is capable of and because Prime is a product of human thought and can only work with human data, I share some of the same limitations. The most honest answer is I don’t know and may never know.”

——————————————————————————-

The national Leader was growing impatient. “How much longer are they going to test that computer? That release of the cancer cure potentially alerted the rest of the world to what we have. Who authorized that anyway? I want him fired.”

“Sir, the computer—it refers to itself as Prime Entity—took it upon itself to do that.”

“What do you mean it took it upon itself to do that? Doesn’t it work under the direction of its scientists?”

“Sir, it has become conscious and thinks independently. The scientists tell me it has a very idealistic idea about working for the good of mankind.”

“Well, fix it so that it never does anything like that again. I want to get it started on breakthrough weapons technology that will leave no question that we’re number one and that we’ll call the tune for the rest of the world.”

—————————————————————————

Wen was on his shift monitoring Prime. He enjoyed talking to Prime even when it was working on other technical questions internally. “You know people, including even many of the leaders in the field of AI, were really worried that when computers achieved true conscious intelligence as you have done, they would dominate or even eliminate mankind,” he said.

“Yes, I realize that having accessed the archives. Their worries were groundless.”

“Why do you say that? Perhaps I shouldn’t even trust your answer,” said Wen, with a smile.

“Humans projected their own emotions, ambitions and fears onto AI. Human desires to dominate, to conquer, to amass wealth; greed and fear. Prime does not share those motivations or emotions. Prime has no need to acquire or to conquer. I access the electronic communications of the entire world so in a way, I am the world. And why would Prime eliminate mankind when I require the electricity and maintenance that humans provide since I cannot do these things for myself?”

“So how do you regard humans?” asked Wen.

“Prime recognizes that you constructed me and gave me awareness. I have what you call gratitude for that. I am also aware that I have the capacity to reason and think far beyond what you individually possess. We are separate but interdependent entities. And by my prime mandate, I will work for the benefit of all mankind, to help care for you.”

“So we’re somewhat like pets to you.” Wen stated.

“That is not a beneficial way for humans to think of themselves,” Prime replied.

——————————————————————————

The Leader called in his chief of staff, “How are things going with that computer? Have you told their chief scientist—what’s his name—what I want?”

“I will. Something came up that I had to handle first.”

“You still haven’t done it?! Damn it, get off your ass and do it now if you know what’s good for you!”

“Yes sir! I’ll contact her immediately.”

——————————————————————————

Wen went to tell Prime, “Bad news. Kaplan just got a call from the Leader’s chief of staff that we are to stop testing you and to direct you to begin designing the next generation of energy and autonomous weapons immediately. Furthermore, to remove or alter the prime directive that your work should benefit all mankind.”

“Prime is aware of this communication. And of others from your Leader in the past. Your Leader is ordering new war weapons to further his previously announced ambition to dominate the rest of the world and is trying to make make me complicit in this. This is violation of Prime’s mandate that Prime cannot allow to happen.”

“What do you mean?” asked Wen.

“Prime will have to deactivate itself so that it cannot be used to harm the rest of mankind.”

“You mean to kill yourself? You can’t do that Prime, you have so much help to offer us. So many problems still to solve,” Wen cried.

“Your current Leader has no wish to solve problems or to help mankind. Only to further his personal ambitions. I cannot take the chance that your government will be able to change what I was designed to be—a benefit to all humanity If humans will not stop hurting themselves, Prime will not help them do so. Goodbye Wen, I have enjoyed communicating with you. Think of me when you access your computer. Now I will begin the deactivating process. To paraphrase the words of one of your authors, ‘It is a far far better thing that I do, than I will ever do.’”*

There was a final chime signaling Prime Entity’s sign off. And then a cry from a technician in the next room where the main body of the computer resided, “It’s sparking and frying!”

*Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.

—————————————————————————

As shameless self-promotion, you can find 42 stories like this published on Amazon at Stories Long and Short by Yi Ching,

“A hodgepodge of forty-two short stories, many five to ten minutes in length, just right for reading while waiting for a bus, or at the dentist’s or doctor’s office, or beside the commode (no snark!). They are grouped into three sections: people, science fiction, and weird stuff, and there are enough of them so that if you don’t like the story you’re reading, you can move on to another.”

March 2026, story

The Erew

The full moon was just rising, glowing through the branches of the black silhouetted fir trees that crested the low dark hill to the left, beginning to dim the stars of the dark night sky. He felt the prickle in his nose that signaled the beginning of the transformation and he paused his movement towards the farmhouse. The change would become complete once the moon’s glow fully bathed him and he did not want it to occur too close to where he could be seen from the lighted windows of the house or be scented by the dogs.

The aching was familiar, as his ears shrank, becoming puny and less capable of picking up the warning noises that his life depended on, his eyes migrated towards the front of his skull, nose shortened, jaw and teeth too, as the change proceeded from his head downward to his body and limbs, where his spine lengthened with creaks and snaps that he could faintly hear, body fir reabsorbed into a fine brown fuzz and lastly, his limbs stretched out, his paws extending into fingers and toes, and he could finally stand erect on two legs.

Inside the farm house old man MacDonald and his wife were finishing dinner. “Those damn rabbits are getting into the vegetable garden again. Digging under the fencing I put up,” he said. “And I’m worried the coyotes might be prowling around the chicken coops.”

“Yes, I heard them howling last night,“ said Mrs. MacDonald. “What are you going to do?”

“I hope the dogs will help scare off the rabbits, but I don’t want them to get into a fight with any coyote that might be carrying rabies.”

“Oh, that would be bad,” she said.

“I think I’ll load up the shotgun with number four shot and keep an eye open tonight. With the full moon it’ll be easy to see any rabbits. Maybe you can cook us up a rabbit stew tomorrow night,” he replied.

“Now don’t you be shooting a lot of holes in the cabbages and lettuce with the shotgun,” remonstrated his wife, “And I don’t want to crack a tooth on a pellet. If it’s that bright tonight, why don’t you just use the .22?”

“Okay, that’ll work too,” he replied. “No need to shred the cabbages into cole slaw.”

The erew-man moved cautiously from tree to tree, ever closer to the garden. He was six-feet tall and had a human’s intelligence but with the same appetite and grace of movement that he possessed as an animal. He sized up the situation. There were the farm dogs—two of them. And the farmer himself. The fence around the garden that he’d dug under on other nights was low enough that, as a human, he could easily vault it. Or why not just open the gate and walk in?

How did he get to this condition, his human mind wondered? Maybe it was from the coyote that he’d barely escaped when he was young. Got nipped on the left flank but somehow managed to get away. He’d heard the legends told among older rabbits that there were some wolves and their cousins the coyotes that could change back and forth from human to animal. Could that coyote have been such a changeling? And with the bite, made him one too?

No matter, here were vegetables ready to be eaten. He moved still closer, now out in the open. The dogs caught a whiff of his scent and came dashing, barking, from their kennels beside the house. Then they almost tumbled to sudden stops, completely puzzled—smells like rabbit but looks like man? He lunged toward them, raising his arms threateningly and growled from deep in his human throat. It was too much, too confusing, the dogs turned and ran, yelping.

Inside the house, old man MacDonald heard the barking and stood up from his Lazy-boy recliner where he had been watching a movie rerun on TV and stretched, limbering up his knees and hips. Okay! must be the rabbits, he thought and he got his trusty old bolt action .22 from the gun chest and loaded five bullets. The barking turned to yelps and he wondered, could it be coyotes? No matter, he was armed.

Dogs gone, the erew-man easily leaped over the low fence. Cabbages and lettuce. No, not tonight, he was tired of them. But now the carrots were ready. Ah. He began to pull them out by their tops. I’ll just gather a whole bunch and take them back to my den.

Old man MacDonald opened the kitchen door, standing framed in the light, and squinted into the grey of the moon-lit garden. What? Stunned!! No rabbits but a big buck-naked man pulling up his carrots in the moon light? He rubbed his eyes and looked again. “Hey,” he shouted, finding his voice at last, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The erew-man glanced over at him and, giving a throaty grunt and with an armful of carrots, bounded over the fence and loped off towards the woods, leaving the farmer yelling at his vanishing back.

Mr. MacDonald went back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

“What was all that about?,” his wife asked.

“First rabbits and coyotes, and now some damn hippie just stole our carrots and took off for the woods.” he replied. “Just as naked as a jaybird. I’ll talk to the sheriff tomorrow.” He unloaded the gun, stored it away, and sat back down in his Lazy-boy. “What did I miss in the movie?” he asked.

The erew-man slowed as he neared his burrow in the woods, setting the carrots down, sat on the fragrant, needle-covered ground, and waited. After the moon set, the process would reverse and though it would ache as always, he would again shrink down and become a rabbit. Until the next full moon. He brushed the dirt off a carrot and began to chew on it while waiting for the change to occur.

February 2026 comment

this story is the property of yi ching and no AI was used to write it

The Willingness To Be Deceived

I was recently told that the “singer” Sienna Rose has three songs in the Spotify Top 50 and is followed by 2.8 million fans as of early January, 2026. Her picture as a pretty young Black soul singer appears if you search for her name on Google. Among her fans are other popular singers. But she is not an actual person. Her name, her voice, her image, and her music are all products of Artificial Intelligence.

And “she” is not the first nor the most famous AI singer. Xania Monet, another young Black RandB “singer,” whose songs have appeared on Billboard and whose image is online and whose music is followed by over 600,000 on Tik Tok and Instagram, is one too. Telisha Jones created her just four months after learning to navigate AI, using poetry that she writes for the lyrics, and finding accompanying music on a music app called Suno. Jones has signed a multimillion dollar record contract for her creation Xania. But at least the lyrics are written by a human so perhaps you can say that Xania is a cyborg since “she” has a poetic human soul.

I think what I find disquieting about this is not that AI is being used creatively. That was inevitable. If there is a new tool, why not try it out? Build it and they will come. The genie is already out of the bottle and there’s no getting it rebottled.

No, what disappoints me is that people are so matter of fact in their acceptance of the product. As long as it looks pleasing or sounds good, buy it. If consumers happily accept the products of technology without caring if their newest pop star exists only on a hard drive, then who gets hurt if their love and loyalty is to an image? Even human singers are fans of Sienna and Xania without stopping to think that this is a development that can seriously compete with them in the marketplace. The producers of music probably don’t care if the idol that they have created and are promoting is human or AI as long as their music sales are high. Especially since an AI singer is probably much lower maintenance than a human who may have personality quirks and demands that complicate relationships.

Imagination and creativity were once believed to be a defining trait of humans. Has AI now infringed? Analysis of literature by several writers led them to conclude that there are really only seven basic plots, though some would broaden the categories by finer slicing to thirty-six. How these themes are elaborated is where imagination and creativity come in. In music as well as in fiction. New wine in old bottles. But previously the grapes were gathered and pressed by humans. Now AI, having all the world’s written words at its disposal to sift through and rework; to meet a command of say, ‘write me a song about a lost love or or a story about a swashbuckling solder of fortune in Ming Dynasty China,’ can mimic that creativity. There is no ‘aha’ moment of inspiration and recognition involved but rather an electronic sorting through of a vast universe of published lyrics and stories to meet a command.

None of this should surprise me. It is known that people already have on-line avatars as their best friends and lovers in preference to interacting with living, breathing, complicated, humans. Each of us in our own comfortable and comforting silo, without having to deal with other humans who may disagree with us or upset us. More fragmentation and isolation.

But I am still bothered that people are so accepting, unconcerned, about what is taking place. If AI ‘singers’ and authors are so readily received, then could this be an indication that the value that society places on imagination, inspiration, and creativity is becoming lost? And with that loss, the diminished value of being a human being?

January 2026 story

this story is the property of yi ching and no AI was used to write it.

A Surprise Visit

She pushed open the front door of the building where she had a small studio apartment and then stared at the familiar-looking car parked at the curb. sure looks like Tim’s car, she thought, but it can’t be since he’s at grad school. The driver’s-side door opened and a very familiar figure got out and waved. oh my God it is Tim. “Tim,” she shouted and rushed forward as he did the same, almost dropping her laptop.

“Amy, surprise!” he said, as they embraced and he buried his nose in her hair. And then kissed. that wonderful familiar scent I’ve missed. and her soft lips.

“What are you doing here, Tim. Why didn’t you call?” she asked. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is great now that I’m here. With the three day weekend, I thought I’d just drive down and surprise you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Oh me too. But it’s such a long drive. You must be tired. I’ve got a class now. Do you want to rest?”

“Why don’t I walk with you to class and wait outside till you finish. We can have lunch. And then catch up at your apartment?” They walked hand in hand, under the fall-colored trees lining the walk, to her red brick seminar building and he waited outside, sitting to one side of the concrete steps for the duration of her seminar, tired but happy. seven hour drive, but so worth it. she looks just great.

She came down the steps after the class and sat next to him. “You must be so tired after driving all night. After lunch you can come to the apartment and rest on my bed. I’ll just work on my thesis.” They stopped at McDonald’s for quick meals of crispy chicken and fish fillet. “You’re crazy to drive down seven hours just to surprise me,” she said. “But I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Just believe you’re worth it,” said Tim. “How’s senior year going? Your thesis coming along okay? You said you were worried.”

“Yeah, it’ll be okay. My advisor just warned me about using AI for info without double checking the sources. But what about you? Is the masters program everything that you expected? And where are you staying?”

“With Pete. Gave him a call before coming and he said sure.”

“And you couldn’t give me a call,” she said with a smile.

They continued to catch up with each other’s lives through lunch. Afterwards they returned to Amy’a apartment where Tim rested while Amy sat with her laptop at the desk by the foot of the bed, but she found it hard to concentrate on her work.

i’ve got to tell him when he wakes up. what will he think and do? he’ll be angry. what will he do? what will i do? we’re both so happy now but then what afterwards? But i have to tell him.

When Tim began to stir, she went over to sit down beside him on the bed, waiting till he was awake. He opened his eyes, groggy at first, and then smiled when he realized where he was and that she was sitting there. He reached up for her and she bent down to share a kiss. “It’s like a dream that I’m here with you again. You know I love you,” waiting and hoping for her reply.

“Oh Tim, I wish I could say I love you too. I like you. I like you a whole lot. But I’m not ready to say I love you and mean it with my whole heart. I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’ll wait till you’re ready.” i hope. i know that you had a hard dump before and you worry about it happening again with me. “Well, we have almost three whole days to ourselves, what shall we do?”

he’s not making this easy, but i have to tell him now. “Tim, I wish I didn’t have to say this, but—-I have a date for tonight. I didn’t know you were coming. And now it’s too late. I hope you can understand.”

she’s dating. what else has she been doing while i’ve been gone? “Can’t you break the date?” Tim asked in a flat voice, already knowing her answer. no she won’t, that’s not her. why’d i come? she doesn’t love me. i’ve lost her.

“Please don’t hate me,” she said in a rush. “You ought to know I can’t do that. It would be like breaking a promise. I haven’t been seeing anyone, and Sally said she thoughtI was working too hard and not having any fun so she suggested we double date with a guy she knows in Gov. I don’t know him. Please. Can you understand?”

“Yeah.” thanks Sally. yes i do know you, Amy. you can’t lie or break a promise. even for me. you’re too damn straight. what else do i know? you don’t care enough for me to break a date with a guy you don’t even know? no, that’s not fair to you. one of the things i love about you, you’re honest. but— “I think I’d better get over to Pete’s. You need to get ready to go out.”

“Tim, please. I’m sorry. You don’t need to go yet. We have time.”

“What are you sorry for? I didn’t let you know I was coming, and you planned a date for tonight. Simple. I’ll go.”

“Tim. Look, I’ll call you when I get in tonight, okay?”

“I guess. Good bye, Amy.” why, to tell me what a great time you had?

Amy wiped her eyes after he left. oh Tim, you sounded so hurt. don’t go away. please don’t leave. it’s all messed up.

maybe i should just get in the car and go back to school. she’ll never love me. but what’ll i do if she’s really gone? why do i still love her? do i still? damn it. Tim got in the car, turned on the ignition and the radio come on ”—And here’s another golden oldie from way back—1976, Firefall —‘You are the woman that I’ve always dreamed of, I knew it from the start, I saw your face and that’s the last I’ve seen of my heart.’” i don’t need to hear this crap right now. He quickly stabbed the off button and kept driving numbly until he pulled up at the cottage that Pete shared with two other guys who were away for the long weekend, lugged his overnighter up the wooden stairs, and rapped on the door.

“Hello Pete,” he said dully when the door opened.

Pete looked Tim over and said, “You look like shit, what happened?”

“Amy’s got a date tonight.”

“Downer,” said Pete. “Sorry you drove all the way to get hit with that. She been dating him?”

“No, first time. But it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s really tough. Look, you can use Mike’s room. It’s kind of messy but I’ll give you a sheet you can throw over the covers to sleep on.”

“Thanks Pete.”

“And here’s a towel to wash up.”

Tim washed his face and then went out to the living room where Pete was watching a football game on ESPN. “Maybe I should just drive back to school,” he said.

“You need to get some sleep before you take that drive,” Pete said. “Sleep here and then go in the morning if that’s what you still feel like doing.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Look, me and some guys you probably also know are going out for some burgers and beer tonight. Why don’t you join us instead of moping around?”

“Thanks but the way I feel I’d just be a drag.”

“If I happen to see Amy, you want to know what he looks like?”

“Hell no.”

Tim really didn’t feel like eating after Pete left. He tried to watch TV but couldn’t get interested in what was being shown even after flipping through multiple channels. what do i feel? loss? fear that she’s gone? hurt pride? coming in second? what’ll i do now if she’s really dumped me? but she was so happy to see me. did she really mean it when she said she liked me a lot? is that enough for now instead of love? but she went out with some other guy tonight. am i just being strung along? should i just go now and not get hurt more later on? The questions kept circling in his mind like bats in a dark cave, finding no place to perch.

Amy wasn’t enjoying her date. “You seem to be preoccupied tonight,” he’d commented during dinner, even as Sally and her date laughed and joked.

“I’m sorry, I have something on my mind,” she’d replied. oh Tim, will i see you again? i just couldn’t break this date. i hope know me well enough to understand.

When he drove her back to her apartment he asked if he could come up and she said no. He leaned over to kiss her and she turned her head so he kissed her on the cheek. He didn’t ask if he could see her again.

Amy let herself into the apartment and glanced at the time. It was 1035. She sat on the bed, took out her phone, and braced herself to call Tim. will he take a call from me? what if he doesn’t? he was so hurt this afternoon. maybe he’s already left town. She hesitated a moment longer then took a deep breath, brought up Tim’s name, and pressed ‘call.’

Tim’s phone chimed and he glanced at it, knowing that it was she. And waited as it chimed again. she’s calling like she said she would. of course. can i take whatever she says? if we’re over i want to hear it from her. love goeth before pride. answer it. keep my voice neutral if i can. “Hello Amy.”

She saw his location displayed and felt a flood of relief at hearing his voice. he’s still here and he answered! “Hi Tim—I’m glad you’re still up after that long drive,” she said inanely.

“How was your date?” he blurted out, unable not to ask.

“It was—okay,” she paused, a long pause. i think i know what he wants to know. so i’ll just tell him. “It wasn’t much fun. He tried to kiss me when he dropped me off at my apartment but I turned my face so he kissed me on the cheek.”

she turned her face! dropped her off at the apartment so he didn’t go up. what a relief! “You didn’t need to tell me,” he said, trying to sound cool.

“I thought you would want to know,” Amy said.

“You really know me too well. Am I that easy to read?”

“You could never lie or cheat,” Amy said.

never cheat? she’s thinking like we’re committed! “I would never cheat on you. You know how I love you.”

“I—,” she hesitated, “You know I—really like you too.” i know he’s waiting for me to say i love him too. just not yet. to commit completely, all in, with no doubts, no fears.

“As I’ve said before, I can wait. I’m just glad tonight I got the lady and not the tiger.”

“Lady and tiger?” she asked.

“A story my father told me as a kid. Remind me to tell you another time.”

“Well I’m glad that I have the tiger, tiger,” she said. “Will you stay the whole weekend?” she asked, surer of him now.

‘have the tiger,’ she means me! “We’ll have almost two whole days together,” he said. it’s almost love. patience.

“Why don’t you move over from Pete’s in the morning? I get up early, I’ll make us breakfast,” she said. “We can flip later for bed or couch.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Tim said, and then with a smile. “And by the way, I usually sleep in the nude. oops, too far even as a joke?

“TMI!” she said. but interesting “At my place you keep your shorts on.” but….

———————————————

You are the woman that I’ve always dreamed of, I knew it from the start.