The Weather Control Device
By Nikki Comito
It was not the work of some deity or supernatural force that was spoken of in the mythology of the ancients. The phenomena were unnatural. The small orb rested on a stone pillar beside the 3-dimensional hologram map of the state of Pennsylvania. The control room of the CIA was dimly lit; the only lighting in the room came from the orb and the simulated map. The orb was glowing, depicting a sun. It had been that way for a week now.
It was behaving strangely. Normally it would deviate from a pattern after a few days, and it was terrifying to know that the weather has been sticking to a consistent pattern because it was always changing the weather; the weather was changed by the orb on its whims. The whims were always unpredictable. One agent spoke up, “Did anybody ever consider that Pennsylvania weather finally mellowed out and became predictable?”
The room roared with laughter. “Obviously you have never lived there!” another cackled.
Time dredged onward and the vigilant agents were growing groggy and tired. The coffee in their cups was cooling, becoming muck. But, they were obsessing over the lack of change. Pencils and notebooks were at the ready. The study was nowhere near complete. Eyebrows were quirked, eyelids were drooping. The grunt work was always given to the probationary agents.
One gasped as the light flickered from yellow to white and blue. Droplets of water and several snowflakes began dancing around the surface of the strange orb. Pencils scratched the surface of tablets. “What is with the sudden change?” an agent demanded of the orb.
“It’s almost as if the orb doesn’t want the people to grow accustomed to anything at all…” an agent observed.
“That’s preposterous! The weather isn’t sentient!” another agent stated. The next note simultaneously jotted down about the orb was the way the light seemed to glint into a smirk.
It was behaving strangely. Normally it would deviate from a pattern after a few days, and it was terrifying to know that the weather has been sticking to a consistent pattern because it was always changing the weather; the weather was changed by the orb on its whims. The whims were always unpredictable. One agent spoke up, “Did anybody ever consider that Pennsylvania weather finally mellowed out and became predictable?”
The room roared with laughter. “Obviously you have never lived there!” another cackled.
Time dredged onward and the vigilant agents were growing groggy and tired. The coffee in their cups was cooling, becoming muck. But, they were obsessing over the lack of change. Pencils and notebooks were at the ready. The study was nowhere near complete. Eyebrows were quirked, eyelids were drooping. The grunt work was always given to the probationary agents.
One gasped as the light flickered from yellow to white and blue. Droplets of water and several snowflakes began dancing around the surface of the strange orb. Pencils scratched the surface of tablets. “What is with the sudden change?” an agent demanded of the orb.
“It’s almost as if the orb doesn’t want the people to grow accustomed to anything at all…” an agent observed.
“That’s preposterous! The weather isn’t sentient!” another agent stated. The next note simultaneously jotted down about the orb was the way the light seemed to glint into a smirk.
About the Author
My name is Nikki Comito. I am a dual major in psychology and philosophy. I write chapter works, some poetry and some short stories. I am a video game player and am fond of role-playing games and adventure games. I an avid reader of fiction and books on specialized topics relating to philosophy and psychology. I have been playing Magic: the Gathering for four years now; it is still my most expensive hobby. I am a mythology buff and a buff for miscellaneous facts about a variety of topics.