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    The Girl Who Saved Tomorrow: Speculative Fiction Modern Parables
    The Girl Who Saved Tomorrow: Speculative Fiction Modern Parables
    The Girl Who Saved Tomorrow: Speculative Fiction Modern Parables
    Ebook46 pages32 minutes

    The Girl Who Saved Tomorrow: Speculative Fiction Modern Parables

    By J. R. Kruze

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    About this ebook

    "I don't see why I have to wear this - it's completely impractical! How would you ever, ever fix anything if you have to worry about getting a run in your stockings?"

    Steve just shrugged, again. "Orissa, it's just a swimsuit with garters on it. And it's all for show. We need hot-blooded backers for finance. So a little leg, a little suggestion, then their blood heats up and loosens their checkbooks."

    "But that's just your theory. I'd rather be tuning that new carburetor for the meet."

    "Better you than me. And that hired model bugged out at the last minute. Besides, you're the best judge of character we've got. We don't want ringers, we want real angels."

    He had me there. One look in any man's eyes and I could tell the real deal from the wannabes.

    Then I saw him. That one...

    Excerpt:

    "Sir, can I get you a refill?" I asked as I pointed to the smaller of the two groups. Their bottle of the good stuff that my brother was holding was fuller than his buddy's.

    "Not right now. How much can you tell me about that plane?"

    I caught a twinkle in his eye. This was a test.

    "Standard body for the racing monoplane type. Custom engine, custom prop, and safety features you won't find anywhere else."

    "What's so custom about that engine?"

    "Radial outboard pistons backed by a turbine for higher speeds."

    "So you have two engines there. Interesting."

    "And safer if you have a bird strike."

    "But you can take lower altitudes slower."

    "And can utilize much shorter runways. Plus, the turbine can be clutched into the piston half for an emergency start in case of any stall."

    "Meaning that you are more comfortable in a jumpsuit with a wrench than showing off your legs in a get-up like that."

    "What gave me away?"

    He smiled. "Other than knowing the difference between radial-outboard and turbine engines? How you walk in heels, and the number of fingers you bent back today, not to mention that wrenched shoulder."

    I smiled back and tilted my head. "So you aren't interested in either of these bidding wars." Said as a matter of fact, not a question.

    "No. You're the genius behind this plane, aren't you." Another statement of fact.

    "Yes."

    "Then you are actually who I came to see today." He looked around our hanger, and spied the tarps covering our tool kits. "And this is where you've built this - or just tuned it?"

    "Where we assembled it."

    His smile was genuine. I relaxed a little. He wasn't trying to hit on me in the slightest.

    "Impressive plane. This isn't a standard monoplane racing body. You've had to make subtle changes in it. It may look the same on the surface, but..."

    "And you're trying to pick my brain for secrets?"

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLiving Sensical Press
    Release dateApr 21, 2019
    ISBN9781386968108
    The Girl Who Saved Tomorrow: Speculative Fiction Modern Parables
    Author

    J. R. Kruze

    J. R. has always been interested in the strange, mysterious, and wonderful. Writing speculative fiction is perfect for him, as he's never fit into any mold. And always been working to find the loopholes in any "pat system." Writing parables for Living Sensical seemed a simpler way to help his stories come to life.

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      Book preview

      The Girl Who Saved Tomorrow - J. R. Kruze

      "I DON'T SEE WHY I HAVE to wear this - it's completely impractical! How would you ever, ever fix anything if you have to worry about getting a run in your stockings?"

      Steve just shrugged, again. Orissa, it's just a swimsuit with garters on it. And it's all for show. We need hot-blooded backers for finance. So a little leg, a little suggestion, then their blood heats up and loosens their checkbooks.

      But that's just your theory. I'd rather be tuning that new carburetor for the meet.

      Better you than me. And that hired model bugged out at the last minute. Besides, you're the best judge of character we've got. We don't want ringers, we want real angels.

      He had me there. One look in any man's eyes and I could tell the real deal from the wannabes.

      Then I saw him. That one with the dark eyes...

      I

      IT LOOKED LIKE I WAS stuck being the doll for this show. And I thought my mom and grandma had it bad growing up as genius engineers. For all things had changed in half a century, it was still a man's world as far as financing. The 1950's had a lot of advancements, but equality of the sexes was still far in the future it seemed.

      The model we'd hired had bugged out and left us hanging. Or at least me.

      I was the same size, just a little less padded. None of the guys could wear that costume, for sure.

      It was some design that my brother Steve had worked up with his marketing friend. It was really a swimsuit painted in camouflage, with garter grips to hold up stockings. But they were obviously exposed and not hidden. This all went with a matching elbow-length jacket that had some medals and patches on it, plus a dinky little flying helmet that did little more than hold my hair up. Goggles that were glued on did no one any good.

      Oh, and how could I forget those teeny dog-tags with a chain just long enough to draw the eye down into that low-cut front. I swear those marketing guys must have freely volunteered overtime gazing through stacks of pinups for research...

      But as a model, I was there to model - not to show off how our plane was more advanced and safer than any of the others on show today.

      I'd done my homework on how the models strutted and preened and gestured to sell their goods. And practiced all their moves, regardless of how silly I felt about acting that way. I was way past being upset or torqued about being exploited. My job was to do two things - sell the plane behind me as

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