Time Capsule 202.1
There was an alert from the door.
I checked the monitor. A lithe blonde female of average height with a smallish Time Capsule.
A nod sufficed.
The door admitted the woman, then closed behind her silently.
I glanced up and indicated the table. She poured the contents onto it.
I initiated a scan.
A short baton with a dirty pointed metal termination; a small glass bottle containing a dark liquid; and a white sheet rolled and attached with pink ribbon.
I scowled: more junk.
I waved them over to the woman’s Credit receptors and dismissed her.
It’s funny, as she turned to go, her mouth opened as if to actually voice something, even though speech, of course, is no longer a requirement of social interaction.
While waiting, I idly checked the baton for a power source, but couldn’t see one.
The results displayed.
[Late 20th Century artefacts : Fountain Pen; Ink Bottle and Paper. Paper contains dark marks organised in groups on successive lines on one side.]
Worthless and without interest. I made my decision.
++ Disintegrate ++
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly Flash Fiction challenge. This weeks prompt is @A Mixed Bag, 2013.