By Sandy Wilson
His fingers slid slowly across the smooth surface. “Where did the youths find it?”
“In the forbidden city, Master. They’ll be punished.”
“The illness when it comes will be punishment enough, Seth!”
“What you think ’tis Master?”
“I’m uncertain Seth, but look, here on the back, an image of a fruit: an apple.”
“A trencher of sorts?” Suggested Seth.
“Could be … See here, a position for the thumb.” He placed his thumb on the indent the surface suddenly lit up illuminating the astonished faces.
“What can I help you with?”
The men prostrated themselves before Siri, their new God.
Sandy Wilson has recently published a childhood memoir, Memory Spill, and is a contributor to The Pulse of Everything, an anthology of poetry and prose.