I had a bizarre idea, a love story told by the kitchen appliances:
The microwave oven let out another angry, "BEEEP!", meaning, "Take your hot dog out of her, and get your damn lasagna out of me!"
I had a bizarre idea, a love story told by the kitchen appliances:
The microwave oven let out another angry, "BEEEP!", meaning, "Take your hot dog out of her, and get your damn lasagna out of me!"
I was playing with idea of a story told by the big boulder on the riverbank, overlooking a swimming hole where some people sometimes go skinny dipping. But it would be only impartial observation, devoid of context of events elsewhere apart of overheard conversations.
I don't remember the author (maybe Ursula K. Le Guin?) who did a short story from the POV of a tree standing alongside a road. I remember that it learned to adjust its size so it was smaller then got larger as a vehicle drove by — I think it preferred when cars weren't so fast.
Yes, Ursula K. LeGuin, Direction of the Road.
In The Wind's Twelve Quarters, she introduces it with:
The tree stands ... on Oregon State Highway 18. ... We drive past it several times a year, and it has never failed to uphold Relativity with dignity and the skill of long practice.
That's not the POV of the tree.
That is true. The author's introduction is written from the POV of the author.
The story itself starts with:
They did not use to be so demanding. They never hurried us into anything more than a gallop, and that was rare; most of the time it was just a jigjog foot-pace. And when one of them was on his own feet, it was a real pleasure to approach him. There was time to accomplish the entire act with style. There he'd be, working his legs and arms the way they do, usually looking at the road, but often aside at the fields, or straight at me: and I'd approach him steadily but quite slowly, growing larger all the time, synchronizing the rate of approach and the rate of growth perfectly, so that at the very moment that I'd finished enlarging from a tiny speck to my full size - sixty feet in those days - I was abreast of him and hung above him, loomed, towered, overshadowed him.
(Note that this story from 1974 uses em dashes, but I doubt that it was generated by AI. The state of the art back then was Eliza.)
(Note that this story from 1974 uses em dashes, but I doubt that it was generated by AI. The state of the art back then was Eliza.)
?? What's the thing with em dashes and AI? I've been using (probably overusing) them for years. Nope, not an AI.
Yes, Ursula K. LeGuin, Direction of the Road.
Thanks, I just went back and reread it. It's fun, unlike the story that follows it, "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas", which is ... disquieting will have to do.