Creative malaise creeps in with cat-like efficiency, a million tiny unseen movements by a living statue, completely unnoticed until it’s suddenly asleep in your lap. Then you want a snack, so you try to get off the couch, but you can’t because this clearly overweight feline has claimed your legs, has no visible intention of leaving any time soon, and you’re like “How long has this thing been here?!”
I have a story I’ve dragged my heals on for nearly 6 years, and the only way past this current psychological hijack is to bring it to life. My brain has been given permission to work the problem. It slowly circles the idea. Tiny lights on the console flicker to life. Fluorescent lights illuminate the room. A whirring of gears, a humming of mysterious electricity deep within the grey goo.
Anyway, here is a lovely drawing of Francis the sheep holding what can only be considered a very large weapon. Maybe? It might be a culinary device. It might make donuts holes. Or sausages. You never can tell what the future holds. Or space-faring sheep, for that matter.
Arthur C. Clarke said “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” This isn’t that.