by submission | Dec 16, 2007 | Story
Author : Chris McCormick
The finest moment of my whole life was when I stepped off that ship. When we finally found each other in the arrivals lounge, her utterly uncomplicated joy was mirrored by my own. Two friends since forever, separated by years of space travel. There was no shyness whatsoever in our extra long hug. All the years of missing, yearning, and desire for each other’s company poured out as we clutched eachother tightly. Our sweet embrace loosened and we paused just a moment, smiling wildly, looking into each other’s sparkly eyes. This led without any awkwardness to a kiss, which lasted longer than a kiss between friends should have. We pulled apart and laughed, still holding each other at arms length; the laugh the first sign that we knew we had crossed a line.
In that moment, free of any emotional baggage we managed to express what we hadn’t been able to for so many years at the same pod, imbibing information together, sharing ideas, and having adventures. I had always had other girlfriends, and she had always been busy with her applied nanotech studies. Eventually she’d got her degree and then all of a sudden she was leaving to the colonies in a matter of days, without any kind of warning. Of course we had both known that the day was coming when she’d eventually have to leave. That was the only smart career move.
When that day came we both felt a confusing hole that hadn’t been filled. Something between us was left undone. Those last few days were bitter sweet moments; we wanted to spend the time together having fun, but of course neither of us felt the least bit like having fun. “This is it,” we thought together with teenage melodrama, “this is the end of our friendship.” I cried so damn hard when she left.
I don’t want to talk about the days that followed my arrival at the colonies because it hurts too much. Suffice it to say that neither of us knew or understood the status of our relationship now. It lurched awkwardly between friendship and relationship and the dark hounds of paranoia and insecurity were lurking in the shadows ready to tear it to shreds. We tried to fix it with sex, but the afterglow from all those years of pent up sexual tension only lasted two days. That was probably the stupidest thing we could have done, but also inevitable.
So we sat on the wall watching the pretty lights dance in the distance eerily. All of space hung above us, it’s lonely, alien magnitude so poignant for us now. “It’s amazing,” she said in a numb voice, staring into the distance, “I can change the fabric of matter with a small piece of technology and the power of my mind. I can create any object I want. But I can’t fix us.” The frustrated way she emphasised the word “us” told me we were both stuck in the same head place. All the technology in the modern worlds couldn’t help two breaking hearts.
“Well,” I said, taking a risk, “we could always try to fix it by fucking again.”
Luckily we both giggled, and there it was; the spark of our friendship was still alive right there in that giggle. We looked at eachother, smiling softly, the eerie lights dancing on our faces. She reached across, and we held hands.
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by submission | Dec 15, 2007 | Story
Author : James Smith
Nothing but killers. They came screaming soundlessly out of the Oort and Mercury Station was gone. My wife swallowed a handful of pills when the remains of Venus fell across the Moon.
The Dyson sphere lays empty, reconfigured into an enormous laser. I remain behind. I am the firebreak between them and our fleeing caravan. I began the power-up this morning, and four years behind me the sun will soon strike the lens now moving into position. The light will cohere and lance through my relays to the diamond core of Jupiter, naked and polished for the purpose. Jupiter’s Lightning will strike some fifteen lightyears out, punch through their sun and cause a cascade effect, ending in a supernova. Before their world is consumed, seas will boil, and the very air will catch fire. Perhaps the man who ordered that first attack will watch his own wife burst into flames and, if he is a man, may be given to regret.
I have not had a body in 145 years, but my sensors register the throb and hum of this station. I am reviewing a video of my wife. I’m wondering why, at the last, she felt the need to first grow a body. So many centuries and we still don’t trust our senses, no matter how superior to the initial five.
The cameras float everywhere, of course, and calling up the file was easy. I watch my wife uncap a bottle with three-day-old hands, an action she hadn’t performed in almost two hundred years, on an object no one’s used for a hundred. I cross-reference with file footage from a family picnic. Yes, she re-grew the body she had when we first uploaded– aged, liver-spotted, sagged and broken. She killed herself striving for a kind of pride we haven’t had need of in a century.
Once Jupiter’s Lightning fires, it will be another sixty years before the light of their exploding star reaches me. Their homeworld will be ash while I still run this station, and for good measure I will once more pump the remains of lonely old Sol into deep space, long after the threat has passed.
I look at my wife on the slab, and superimpose her on top of the picnic footage. Her corpse lays along the blanket where our food is placed. I am not in the picture; I am holding the camera. She and our children appear to reach into her flesh and pull out plates piled high with food.
Across the chasm of centuries, over the expanse of her own dead body, my wife smiles at me. I miss her. I miss the electronic susurrous of the sum of human knowledge, underpinning reality. Somewhere in the depths of me, I ask myself if I will accept handshake from the second relay. Without accepting, the beam will reach Jupiter too dissolute to make the final, murderous journey out of the solar system. I deny handshake and power down. Come and get us.
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by submission | Dec 14, 2007 | Story
Author : Geoffrey Cashmore
The first thing Vinka noticed were the trees, (Bula was late…why was she always late?) the ground was dirty too; some places nothing but bare earth or a covering of ragged grass. That couldn’t be healthy, could it? These pathetic people.
Vinka watched Bula arrive and park up, clumsy as usual, but at least she didn’t hit one of the trees. He glanced at his watch. Charl and Birdo would be expecting him back. It wasn’t fair to leave them finish the shift without him, he’d had so much time off lately.
“Sorry.†Bula wore the silver outfit she got last winter. She wore it once to a party and hadn’t touched it again, saying it was too good for normal wear. She was obviously making a special effort today – first impressions and all that.
“You’ve left your lights on.†Vinka gestured impatiently, sending his wife back into her car to fluster with the controls. “This is the place, isn’t it?†he asked when she finally made it over to stand beside him, smoothing down her jacket and smiling.
“I think so.†She answered. “It’s not very clean. Look at those trees. That can’t be healthy, can it?â€
Vinka was gazing around for signs of activity. “No…†he said absently.
“Oh Vin, we are doing the right thing, aren’t we?†Bula had grown increasingly nervous as this day approached. “Adopting one of the under privileged, I mean.â€
“Bula, I told you, it’ll be fine.†Vinka was weary from the reassurances, but Bula could be like this; nervous about something at first then confident and self-assured when it finally happened “How could any right minded person stand by and leave them bring up a child in this squalor? And besides, I showed you all the forms we’d need to fill out if we wanted to adopt back home. Look.†He pointed out past the broken down buildings to where something moved at the edge of the trees. “Someone’s coming.â€
“Oh yes, there he is!†Bula caught sight of the figure. “Isn’t he adorable?†she said, leaving Vinka to approach the youngster alone for fear of frightening him. He seemed a little nervous, and curled up on the floor as Vinka drew near. “He’s so cute. I hope the other children don’t tease him because of he colour of his skin.†Bula stood to one side while Vinka lifted the child and put him into the back seat of Bula’s car.
“Now.†He said “I’ve really got to get back to work – Birdo’s going to go mad – can you take the kid home and settle him in?â€
Bula was smiling even though there were tears in her eyes as she nodded to her husband. She kissed him on the cheek as he closed the car door. “Thank you, darling.â€
“Whatever makes you happy, honey.†He said, pulling car keys from his pocket and preparing to go.
As Bula’s car broke free of the little blue-green planet’s atmosphere the child on the back seat began to cry.
“There, there.†She comforted, “You won’t have to live in that nasty old place any more.â€
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by Sam Clough | Dec 13, 2007 | Story
Author : Sam Clough aka “Hrekka”, Staff Writer
It’s just like they try to teach you in biology.
Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species.
Municipalis, Europa, Munchen, EDF, Umbra, Generatrum, Gigas.
The common or garden Generatrum Gigas. Very roughly, that’s ‘Giant Generator’. Self-replicating automata are absolutely great unless you impose severe limits on them. And make sure there’s no easy workarounds.
‘Europa’ may have been true once, but no longer. Municipalis don’t respect political borders: these things walk around the world. Not fast enough to stay in perpetual daylight, but fast enough to snatch eighteen hours or more of light a ‘day’.
And they’re damn tall. And some of the subspecies can float.
About the only people who gained anything purely positive from the whole evolutionary technology revolution were the damn taxonomists. Whole new species sprouting in a whole new kingdom of life. And sprouting far quicker than anyone anticipated.
The new breed of taxonomist are an aggressive bunch. For the first time in years there’s something new and fresh in the field. Now they’re all out in the world. They’re the new heroes: the new household names. Charles Maltz, first human to document the speciation of mineral extraction drones, as they evolved from general extraction to specific ores. Donald Powell, first human to enter the wreckage of Dungeness and find evidence of emergent radiotolerant forms of common municipalis. Kate Finnigan, first human to cross the pacific with a seagoing umbra solar platform. Alexei Khostov, first human to gain the trust and acceptance of an enclave of dimachaeri combat frames.
The oil is gone. Most metal, too. The machines are extracting the last of it from Africa. Taxonomists have already witnessed predatory forms attacking and breaking down slow-moving members of umbra and the other lumbering solar families. Entire mechanical ecosystems are appearing.
The most remarkable discovery has been a symbiotic relationship found on the african savannah. A solar platform allowed several small velite combat frames to draw power from it regularly in exchange for defense against the small, fast edo family predators that would try to disable and disassemble it for parts. The combat frames were obviously several generations into the relationship: when discovered, their catabolic furnaces were already atrophying, forcing them to continue protecting the solar platform.
The Royal Society is bringing together research from everyone it can contact: they’re preparing to publish a new book. Systema Metropolis: the Systema Naturae for the modern age. The project is one of the few positive, creative efforts that has occurred on a worldwide scale in years.
The world is slowly dying, choking on the pollution of twelve billion minds. The ennui of the world is dissapating now that there’s finally a new frontier. There is romance, there is excitement. There are heroes once again. For the first time in a long time, the future is not quite so bleak.
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by Patricia Stewart | Dec 12, 2007 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The bright yellow spaceship of the Sol Department of Transportation pulled up next to a two ton rogue asteroid. They deployed the grappling sling, and slowly maneuvered it toward the asteroid. After they secured it, the spaceship adjusted its orientation, fired its aft plasma engines, and launched the asteroid toward the center of the sun. The crew confirmed that the asteroid’s new trajectory was “terminal,” and then moved on toward their next target; a jettisoned escape hatch from a cargo vessel that had collided with a utility schooner.
Vir Quisquilia glanced over at his trainee, Josh Knoxx, who was sitting in the co-pilot seat. He was a good kid, but he was beginning to get on Vir’s nerves. He never shut up. He was always commenting on something, or questioning some department procedure (usually related to why Vir wasn’t following them). Vir momentarily reflected on his rookie year, and quickly concluded that he had never been like Josh; as best as he could recall.
“I don’t understand,” protested Josh, “why haven’t the ship designers figured out how to strengthen the forward deflector shields so they can handle a two ton rock. We could finish our route in a week if we only had to clear the really big ones.”
Vir mentally counted to ten before answering. The kid still didn’t see the big picture. Less work also meant fewer pilots. For now, he decided, he’d just explain the physics. “Listen, Josh, its all about mass and velocity. If a ship is only going 500 miles per second, the shields could deflect a 180 ton mass. But since the interplanetary velocity limit is 0.5c, we need to clear out all objects one ton and larger. Nobody is going the slow down just to make our job easier. Besides, you should be grateful that you were assigned to the Earth-Mars sub-light corridors. Imagine trying to keep the corridors clear through the asteroid belt? I covered a buddy’s run for a month. Hell, I’ll never do that again. The way the corridors constantly spiral to stay aligned with Jupiter and Saturn was a logistical nightmare.” He physically shuttered as he remembered the intricate space-dance he needed to choreograph to get Vista to shepherd a small cluster of asteroids out of Interplanet EJ-13.
They approached the drifting escape hatch and synchronized their orbits. Josh swiveled toward the sling panel to start the targeting sequence.
“Not the sling,” snapped Vir, somewhat more harshly than he had intended. “The hatch is titanium. It’s recyclable. It goes into the metals hold. Use the arm.”
“Damn, sorry.” Minutes later, the arm locked onto the hatch. As Josh maneuvered the hatch past the cockpit he yelled. “Oh God. There’s a dead guy holding onto the inside handle.”
Vir squinted at the arm monitor. “Yea, you’re right. I heard they couldn’t find one of the crew.” He sat there looking at Josh expectantly. “Well, come on,” he prompted, “get into your suit and pry his hand loose from the hatch. Store him in the biologic locker in hold number three. And ignite a thruster, it’s almost lunch time.”
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