Idle Hands by John A. Tures
from Dystopia: a PUNK NOIR Magazine series
The House Minority Leader checked her watch.
“Make it quick, Ben. I have a press conference in 15 minutes where I’ll be grilled about how many seats we’ll lose in the Fall Election.”
Her Senate counterpart smiled. “I have a way we can prevail in November, Pamela.”
The Iowa Congresswoman’s eyes widened momentarily before the familiar look of resignation returned. “I’ve heard this bedtime story before from others in our party. Ever since Sophia Shawver invented ‘The Cornucopia,’ those Star Trek-style replicators now cover everyone’s needs. People stay at home and get their food and drink for free. It’s killing our economy!”
The man from Alabama smiled. “With my plan, nobody gets the power to keep their ‘Cornucopia’ going unless they prove they are being ‘productive.’ A wristband tracks their labor efforts.”
Pamela spluttered. “But what about the elderly…the children?”
He shrugged. “Able-bodied family members can work overtime to cover them.
She gasped. “What if they don’t have a healthy family member?”
Ben laughed. “So now you care about these lazy people? C’mon Pamela, you know that old saying: ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.’ That message will put us back in charge.”
This story appears as part of Dystopia, a PUNK NOIR Magazine series.
Bio
Born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and raised in El Paso, Texas, John A. Tures wrote sports for the El Paso Hearld-Post. In college, he worked for a radio station. He worked his way through graduate school in education outreach for the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra. He earned his doctorate in political science at Florida State University, analyzed data in Washington DC, and is now a professor at LaGrange College in Georgia. He writes columns for a number of newspapers and magazines and has published more than two dozen short stories in various genres, from thrillers and mysteries to nonfiction and flash fiction.
PUNK NOIR, the online literary and arts magazine that looks at the world at its most askew, casting a bloodshot eye over the written word, film, music, television and more.
Subscribe for a regular dose of hard-boiled flash fiction, straight to your inbox.
Pretty frightening/never a voice of reason