“My name is William Harold, and I’m going to the Moon for a mix of work and pleasure… If I’m lucky.” I smiled to cover my over-enunciation.
The guard frowned slightly as he continued to wand me.
“Alright, you can go.” He said.
I silently cursed myself for the slip up in my speech. It’s hard to cover the fact that in my last job I’d been a computer programmer. Since the switch to all voice-recog input, programmers have gotten very good at speaking in a manner that computers can understand. It sounds weird and oddly formal to non-computers though.
And if there’s something I don’t want to sound like right now it’s formal. I need to stick to my cover; An untalented, unintelligent business lackey. My normal clipped accent could have been a dead give away.
But I made it past the guard and started working my way to the shuttle. My accent worries are problems from another life. With my new assignment, I have a whole new set of problems.
How exactly am I going to blow up the Moon without anyone noticing?
Originally published on Ficly – A flash fiction social network now, sadly, defunct.