Utopian Flash Fiction

Once or twice upon a time there was proposed a project. A visionary writer wanted stories, quick engaging illustrations of an ideal world’s people devising solutions to their social problems.


fruit trees – utopian flash fiction


We were just a coterie of folks sharing our common enjoyment of organic gardening.
Yeah, we tend toward socially conscious politics, philosophy; but mostly we like the doing, the growing, relaying tips online, socializing not socialism.

Still, when Tris suggested it, it just made sense. We’ve been talking about how greening, giving city space to vegetation, has so many benefits.

Think of general health, cleaner air, cooling shade, public beauty’s psychological lift, the benefits of natural time and space within the daily grind.

We have been explaining among each other and other friends the benefits of fresh organically grown fruits and vegetables,
how they should be a larger share of our daily diet, how we could be healthier without so much expensive medical intervention, have better energy, focus and digestion.

Why don’t we have fruit trees filling our public spaces, fresh free food for any to eat, happy flowers lighting up spring,
strong roots soaking up rain, crackly leaves to enjoy while readying for winter, and a public project to bring people together
in that old fashioned, happy sharing of work made play?

Aren’t they bringing a plethora of enjoyments to our town? Let’s meet by the fruit tree park today. Bring exciting conversation.



University – utopian flash fiction


We are told that our project was named University because our purpose is to facilitate a universe of possibilities.
University started as one of those possibilities, a project conceived and carried out by for and of a conscious community
of artists, engineers, scientists and philosophers. I grew up in that community, and wouldn’t have it any other way.

We learn in the histories, and know that in many places still today, education has been separated from general life,
often made compulsory and relegated to specific times, places and procedures. Corporations took on the tasks of
research and product development for a profit, while politicians were responsible to craft projects of benefit to their communities.

At University projects are constantly being started, executed, sent out to find those who can now benefit from what has been accomplished.

Someone or ones snag onto an idea and start to figure out the steps from here to there. A call is given out to anyone who is interested or has relevant skills to join in. We learn what we need to know each step of the way and bring in others as the project progresses.

We have the background structure of University to draw upon, where learning of all kinds is constantly in session.

From the time I was very young, from my first moments of remembered consciousness, I knew any of my questions would find serious response at University. There are the libraries, record chips of any subject imaginable, everything explained from the simplest child’s vantage point up through the most learned of scholars in the field, fully illustrated in animation and live action recording, as appropriate.

More importantly, there are the people, the scholars, engineers, scientists, artists, each with their passions that they are so very happy to share.

University is the busiest, bubblingist, energized and enthusiastic environment to grow in. No one says: “it can’t be done.”
It’s always: “well, what’s the next step we have to take to get there?”



Sanctuary – utopian flash fiction


We met at Sanctuary.

She was coming off a bum relationship with a man.
I was coming off a bum relationship with a drug that I had given rule over my life to the point that I had no real me left.

Sanctuary was cool. We got to chill in a little island of basic comfort, tea and sympathy, while we figured out who we were.
Well, actually it was tea and oatmeal, stew in the evenings. And we were assigned chores when we registered at the front entrance, after being frisked for weapons. The chores were reasonable, and would take into account natural aptitudes when they fit with immediate needs.

The late night talks were optional. If you were in, you let it hang out exactly as far as you were able. That was respected, especially if you were able to shed light on common issues. So Sheila and I turned out to have a lot of light to share. And, after awhile, a lot of dark as well.

But that was later. After Sanctuary had served its purpose and we were back in the bad old world.

I had been raised in one of those corporate towns down South. The daily lessons of propaganda didn’t take properly.
I took off for more liberal climes as soon as I got my citizen’s share. But the cognitive dissonance didn’t work out either.
I fell into the proverbial downward spiral, until down started to look like up and I truly smelled like despair.
One foot in front of the other just wasn’t cutting it anymore. At one of the places I was being thrown out of, the proprietor told me about Sanctuary.

He told me that was where losers like myself belonged. He wasn’t being cruel. He was right.
Sanctuary had been set up as a safety net for anyone who needed it. It was paid for by contributions from each hosting community, because everyone realized it saved a lot in costs for law enforcement and who knew when they might need it.
It certainly saved my life. And Sheila’s. It’s a shame things didn’t work out for us; but that wasn’t Sanctuary’s fault.
Some things just aren’t meant to be. Or maybe they are, but only for a while, only until something gets worked out that started long before in other lives.

One day she wasn’t there when I got home. On our kitchen table was a note: “Gone to Sanctuary. Don’t try to find me.”
For some, one stay is only the beginning of a process hopefully leading to better life skill development. I seem to have gotten there, for now.

I respect her need to find her way without me. We each get to work out our own salvation, with Sanctuary for back up.

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