Madam Maxime :: Short Story

You don’t always go where you think you’re going.

“Welcome to flight 39221. My name is Elsebeth and I’ll be your hostess for today. I am here to make this experience as pleasant as possible. Would you like a drink, sir?”

Harold looked to his right, to what was supposed to be a window, but there was nothing to see. Just a vast blackness that extended until forever. At least, that’s what it looked like. It wouldn’t go on forever, obviously.

“When will we be arriving?” He turned to the lady wearing a purple dress that fitted her tight like a second skin, carefully covering her five tentacles.

Elsebeth shook her head. “Unfortunately that is classified information, sir.”

“I’m sure no-one will tell on you,” Harold said as he pointed out the empty seats around them. “Where are the other passengers?”

“Unfortunately…”

“Yes, yes, classified.” Harold was working on not interrupting beautiful women. But this was just a robot, so maybe he shouldn’t care so much.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” Elsebeth was waiting patiently next to him.

“Where are we going? I know this is a punishment and all, but it doesn’t feel like it yet.” Harold smiled, baring his white teeth in a whim of confidence.

“This is the flight to the end of the universe, sir.”

Harold sighed. Who programmed those responses? Must have been a total nitwit. “Are we stopping at Madam Maxime’s for a drink, at least?”

“I do not understand why we would need to stop there.”

“Well, you know that expression, right? Having a drink at Madam Maxime’s? Before the universe ends? That last drink before everything ends.”

Elsebeth moved one of her heads down, until her mouth was close to Harold’s ear. “I am Madam Maxime, pleased to meet you. Would you like a drink, sir?”

Written for @mctiller’s #twentyfourhourshortstory contest on Steemit.

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