It was supposed to be more than a commodity. The work we had been doing was going to make it a life changing experience.The passengers started to come in. Among their generally small size, there was some diversity in their shape, but they all managed to join the ride. Most seemed confused at first. It was probably their first time in this kind of transport.

I glanced at my hand and nothing. It didn't work. Nobody had been able to determine why it was defective. It was frustrating.This time I really needed it to function. It was one of the most difficult decisions of my life. Until now, I had managed to follow my own choices. Sometimes they were great, in many cases not ideal, but somehow they shaped my future choices and let me proceed.

I looked at the water and threw myself in. I felt heavy, I wasn't meant to be there. I used all my strength to propel my body above the surface. I took a deep breath and let myself be submerged again. Swimming was my dream and if I wanted to survive, I had to finally make it come true.My arrival was disappointing.

I refused to speak. Being trapped in an underground facility was threatening, but not enough to make me talk. Since they captured me, there had been endless times when they decided to remove the mask preventing me to articulate my lips. The language I spoke was unique, my words were special, and the little I said had made too much of an impact.

In my house, there is a very special guitar. It is old and only has five out-of-tune strings. But when I play it, nobody notices. Some think a spell was cast on the guitar to make it sound beautifully. While others believe I fabricate the effect that it generates when being played.The truth is the guitar is barely capable of emitting any sound.

I followed the routine and went for an intense purple polish. My nails were ready to shine, and so was I. Though green gave me a colour appreciated by most audiences, I still preferred the versatility that purple provided. The amount of blue in it made me breathe more easily, and the red contained provided the power I needed for that specific moment.

I was supposed to stay calm. The opaqueness of the bubble surrounding me was starting to get dangerously evident, and that would make things much more complicated.I was put into it when panic started to impact those around. I didn't ask to have that barrier, I disliked it. The limits imposed seemed to be much more than its expected benefits.

I am a bit of a rebel. I don't like rules. Unfortunately, life seems to be nothing but a pile of those. Every morning the same drill. Wake up, get the guide, let it update, and follow the instructions. I couldn't stand it.Two days ago I was bringing construction materials up the stairs until my knees gave up. Yesterday I had to sit all day to work on the plumbing plans.

My fictional short stories

We had always been together. When we were young, we liked to compare each others' height. Some days I was taller, while others I was not. On sunny days we looked brighter. The warm weather was enjoyable and the outside air granted undescribable freedom. But it was during the winter months when we felt the most useful. Especially, when we were not that young anymore.

After a couple of unsuccessful launches, my boat was finally in orbit. Its placement was perfect to get the best capture. I had been planning this for months. The fishing rod was sitting next to me. I placed the magnetic ending in the small opening at the side of the boat and pressed the button to launch its thread. It didn't fail, the light but sturdy material deployed correctly and flew directly to the little asteroid passing by.

One day they told me I was promoted. The following day, I was placed in a crowded room full of small desks with limited equipment. Paper, pens, envelopes and a letter opener. The instructions were concise. 'Write, rewrite and do not let any trust out'.I didn't understand what was going on until I was offered this position. Up to now, letters from family and friends had always left me with a bitter feeling.

'The password?' was the question that I encountered when I arrived at the forum. I didn't know it. I was not relevant enough, but that was not going to stop me. Today I had to get in. Learning what was being discussed here was the only option we had left if we wanted to have a chance at survival. I looked around and saw all those individuals wearing apparently expensive suits.

I was not ready to turn the page. I knew the pictures were gone, but that absence was enough to say it all. I had gone through the album endless times, but it hadn't become any easier. The moment I decided to erase those memories there was no going back.Something was missing, but I didn't know what it was anymore.

Four, five, six... seven? That couldn't be, I had to count again. I quickly passed my gaze over the hand being presented in front of me and double checked. I was not wrong, there were seven.Our community was small, but we were very popular in the neighbourhood due to our detailed handmade products. We had six, it had always been like that, and we were proud of it.

Thinking about it, the piano could perfectly be tied to the little box. It sounded twice a day, and the pieces being interpreted, each with its own main key, were different almost every time. Could those variations explain why, even after trying all possible combinations, the box didn't open? I was determined to test my theory the following day.Sunday morning never felt as long before.

I immediately ran to pick up a pen and a notebook. I looked for an empty page and began to write down each combination tested, trying to go through all of them in ascending order. ’0000 AA', '0000 AB'… Minutes passed and the dials stopped responding when I was at '0019 JA’. Taking notes of everything made me lose a lot of time, so from now on, I decided to just record the last combination tested before the dials stopped moving.

My fictional short stories

It was Saturday and I decided to take the time to put my thoughts together. Getting to know the previous tenant didn’t seem to be a feasible option, so working with what I had felt like the smartest approach.From experience, the dials only moved at night, right after my neighbours stopped playing the piano. A bit before eight, and for a total time of around half an hour.

I had to make use of those moments when the dials seemed to be responsive. So far I had only been able to interact with the box a couple of times after dinner. And, though it wasn't much, I decided to take the hint and try again the following night. In the meantime, I should make the most of moments like the current one when the dials moved, but as I stopped my thoughts to focus on the box, they weren’t reacting to my fingertips anymore.

Getting to know the owner of the box would probably be the quickest way to get to the end of the story, but I was not in a hurry, so I decided to dedicate some more time to deduce the meaning behind the digits and letters in those dials.4 digits could represent many things. An important date, a specific time, a part of a zip code or someone's favourite number.

The first time I felt the dials dancing under my fingertips was magical. They turned smoothly and it was possible to change from one combination to another in a matter of milliseconds. '0000', '1111', '2222'… I used my hand to turn all the upper dials at the same time. Digits from 0 to 9 were the options, and the similitude in shape seemed to indicate that 10 letters would be offered by the two dials below.

I had barely slept that night. Nobody would understand how something so small could occupy such a big space in my mind. But I loved mysteries, and the thrill of having the chance to solve one was something I could not let escape.After doing some work in the morning, I started to prepare lunch while listening to the neighbours’ piano.

I still remember the day I got the keys. It had been an intense search, but opening the door of that elegantly furnished apartment seemed to compensate all the trouble I had been through. It had everything I needed, and even more.After finding the little wooden box in the bedside table, I contacted the owner of the building in case it belonged to the previous tenant, but apparently there was no need to worry and I was allowed to make use of everything in there for as long as I lived in the apartment.