Synthy Fists by S. Howard Monterey

Synthy Fists of Love and Joy are flying from the sky toward the sheep, as the poor woolen beasts run along the outskirts of the pasture. The flights of fancy that perpetrate such desires are common in this neck of the agrarian landscape that surrounds the small town of Landlocked. The sheep dogs have since run off to get their master.

Farmers have developed a consistent manner for addressing such attacks. When the sheep dogs approach them with that indication of things awry, the farmers shoot a massive net toward the sky. The net is so large that it captures anything in its purview, including birds, sunlight, raindrops, and Synthy Fists of Love and Joy. It is the best defense measure these attuned agrarians have for addressing aerial attacks on their livelihoods.

Never a soul has encountered the likes of these particular Synthy Fists, though. Normally they attack in groups of eight, a rather manageable number all things considered. This time around, though, a group of sixty-four Synthy Fists were on the prowl for livestock to mince. There was not a farmer in the land who could handle an attack such as this. Even collective efforts would be no match for the eight herds of Synthy Fists coming down on Farmer Johann Neutrino’s well-bred flock.

“I’m hungry for strength,” Johann said as he stared at the harbingers of destruction diving rapidly toward his property. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and screamed into it, “Regard the sacred item which we have kept hidden for such occasions of sheer doom!”

The voice on the other end was so surprised by the request that he was initially silent, followed by some stuttering, and just plain confusion. “But dad, it’s the last resort. We use this and we are using the bulk of the power which we have within!”

“I’m hungry for strength, Jacob,” replied Johann. “You can’t say they want summer, but you also can’t say they won’t destroy everything for which we have toiled years. Bring me the Sacred Blue Heart of the Infinite Eminence.”

While Johann awaited his offspring’s arrival, he watched in horror as the malicious Synthy Fists pummeled the fields of his neighbor to the west. Each herd would swoop down at speeds exceeding 200 miles per hour, obliterating all things carbon-based in its way. The sheep, filled with fear, would run in every direction and sometimes no direction at all. The fear overcame what trite sensibilities the animals had and thus rendered them with no apparent ability to defend themselves.

None of the farmers could remember what life was like before the attack of the Fist herds. It was not as if these gents and ladies had poor memories. It was just that the herds had been attacking since before many of these people were born, and the generation prior was too afraid to discuss the situation.

And so the farmers of Landlocked lived their lives as they were and prepared their children for lives of the same manner. That was until this particular herd attack. It was never prudent for the farmers to attempt to conjure up a better defense plan. They always had their day jobs and so profound and dense mechanisms fell prey to the practicalities of daily existence.