by submission | Nov 20, 2008 | Story
Author : Waldo van der Waal
“Did anybody see you?”
The tone of voice left no doubt with Neville Fox that his answer would have a profound impact. He studied the face of the man before him. General John G. Cooper was not a man to be trifled with. The tattoos on his forehead distinguished him as a combat veteran, and the ocular implant, linked to the Ministry’s infinite resources marked him as a member of a very small group of men that held the keys to everything in the known universe.
The mission was a routine one. Or so it had seemed at the time. Fox had received his briefing directly from the General, before being escorted as usual to the Ostium – the machine that had shaped everything for eons.
“They might as well have called it Deus,” he had thought silently to himself as he arrived at the sealed entrance. The guard hardly glanced at him.
“Sign.”
He placed his hand on the biomat.
“Speak.”
“Neville Fox, MA329941. Mission 019.”
The holographic door dissovled soundlessly, revealing the interior of the Ostium. The room he entered was cramped, dimly lit and musty. He took off all his clothes, the laser rings and aural connectors, and placed the items on a metal rack. Next he took one of the fully charged Return Keys from the charging dock, activated it and swallowed it. If you want to take something along, it has to be inside you.
“Neville Fox, MA329941. This is Mission 019. Please lie down.”
Fox had never met the Ostium operator. He didn’t know if it was a he or a she, or even if it was human. But he always obeyed. And this was his 19th mission. One more after this, and he would not have to worry about credits ever again.
He rested his head on the cold, metal indentation, and placed his arms and legs into the molds. The transportation device itself was a barren stretch of platinum, with the indent of a male form on its surface. But underneath, it was linked to electronic wonders that would’ve escaped the human race for eons, had they not made Contact when they did. And then came the pain.
It felt as if every atom of his body was sucked from his very bones. Downward, into the platinum below him. Neville Fox ceased to exist.
At the very same instant, he arrived at the coordinates that the mission required. And then it was into the familiar routine: Find clothes, blend in, acquire a weapon, complete the mission. Talk to no one if it can be helped, and above all – make sure you aren’t seen at the wrong moment.
Everything had gone smoothly. Clothing, a weapon, concealment on a grass-covered hill. Then the wait, which was mercifully short this time.
He had peered down the busy road from his hiding place. Identified the target in the open-top car, coming slowly down the street, in between the thousands that line the road with American flags. Aim. Breathe. Wait. And then the shot.
Fox hadn’t even waited to see the result. He knew he had killed the target. Tearing the clothes from his body even as ran, he paused only to place the rifle into a deep hole near his hiding place. A hole that would cease to exist in only a few seconds. He manipulated his adam’s apple, activating the Return Key where it had lodged. In downtown Dallas a man who was never there, suddenly ceased to exist.
He met the General’s gaze squarely. “No sir,” he said confidently, “No one saw me.”
by submission | Nov 19, 2008 | Story
Author : Carter Lee
-flash-
There was no one else, anymore. Something had happened, and I am all that is left. Here on this empty, dusty stretch of nothingness. Grey plane stretched out on all sides, merging with the grey sky, lit only by a dim sun. There was no one, there was nothing, just me, and the plain, and the sky.
I had walked, for a while. However, nothing and no one existed here, except me, and so I just sat. I looked at the plain, and at the sky, and breathed the still air in and out.
All alone. I closed my eyes.
-flash-
I woke as the helmet lifted off my head, and the safety bars retracted. I slid out as the next user slid in, our chests brushing and our breath mixing as we changed places. She didn’t look at me, but at the alcove, her eyes filled with hunger and anticipation. No doubt, my eyes held the same hunger, but now that my time was up, the hunger would be replaced with regret.
I pulled my gaze away, and looked at the mass of people passing in front of me. The corridor was filled with a never-ending mass of hurrying men and women, their eyes fixed on the back in front of them as they sped past, endlessly, without pause. God help the person who came out of step with the person behind or in front of them. Just yesterday, more than 200 hundred people had died in one of the North6LevDown corridors, trampled when the Hall Monitors hadn’t been able to divert the flow fast enough.
I slid into the flow, and over the next mile, pressed from the right side to the left side of the corridor. I made it across just in time to spin myself into the downstream line for my local elevator.
I just managed to squeeze into the ‘Vator, pressed tight against the inner safety mesh. For just a second, I saw the resigned expression of the person who was now at the head of the downstream line, saw his shoulder hunch down to fight the pushing of the mass streaming past, rubbing and bumping him as his hands, white-knuckled, gripped the support bar. Head of the line, fighting the flow, it’s a tough spot to be in.
The ride was interminable, creeping upward while constantly moving, sliding this way and that to get out of the way of those leaving at the next level, then pressing forward myself as my level neared. Sliding out, into the flow, across the hallway, navigating the tricky left at Junc. 317, crossing the corridor again, and finally, miles later, joining the flow into my section. Finally, I slid into my niche just as my predecessor left. Good timing, I thought as I got comfortable, leaning back slightly. Eight hours of full sleep before the next shift arrived, and I would have to have eight hours of ‘recreation’ before work.
I closed my eyes.
-flash-
I woke to the sound of electricity crackling, smelling smoke, eyes filled with the destroyed world I hated so much. The machine had malfunctioned again. And I was cast out of my lovely, barely remembered dream. Cast back into my personal hell of devastation and loneliness.
The machine is broken, and I do not know if I can fix it, this time. Here, in the city of destroyed buildings and rotting corpses, I found myself alone, again. In despair, I began to cry, feeling more tired than was possible, and sank to the ground, eyes closed. Against my wishes, I slept.
-flash-
by submission | Nov 18, 2008 | Story
Author : Asher Wismer
The Boast sat on the hill and watched the man-things playing with fire. They burned themselves, each other, and finally set the forest alight. The fire didn’t reach the Boast, so it just watched.
The Boast sat on the hill and watched the man-things hunt. They used rocks and sticks, the former for throwing, the latter burned to a point in their fire. The Boast was inedible, so it just watched.
The Boast sat on the hill and watched the man-things farm. They used domesticated horses to till the land, domesticated cattle for manure and meat, domesticated sheep for clothing. The Boast could not be domesticated, so it just watched.
The Boast watched the man-things discover electricity, and wire the forest with lights. The Boast didn’t sleep, so it just watched.
The Boast watched the man-things create shooting weapons and wage war for gold and oil. The Boast had neither, so it just watched.
The Boast watched the man-things create bombs, and destroy millions of themselves in seconds. The Boast moved to a different hill.
The Boast watched the man-things unleash terrible biological weapons, decimating life on the planet, sickening crops, cattle, fish, trees. The forest disappeared. The rivers dried up. The man-things came to the Boast and screamed, “Why didn’t you stop us? Why won’t you help? Why can’t you come down from your hill and dictate peace and prosperity?”
The Boast didn’t understand English, so it just watched.
Later, the Boast sat on the hill and watched the roach-things playing with fire.
by Duncan Shields | Nov 17, 2008 | Story
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
My skin is a grid of white tiles.
I’m on the moon, I’m naked, and I’m outside. I’ve been here for hours waiting for my target.
I turn my cue-ball eyes up to the sky. I don’t need to breathe but the batteries that power the whirring oxygenator that replaced my heart are running low. And I’m bored.
I look back down through the thick diamond-glass and resume scanning. The stars in the black sky behind my back don’t glitter. There’s no atmosphere where I am.
I’m perched way up at the apex of a recdome in a complete vacuum. I’m a snowflake on a windshield. I’ve become one with the temperature
They’ve done their best to recreate Central Park down in this recdome and for the most part they did a pretty good job.
Or so I’m told. I was a child when the aliens cleared us out and I had never been to New York.
At night here when the Earth is full, you can still look up and see the new shapes of the continents through the now-colorful clouds.
Can you imagine the terror and the chaos of The Lottery? A completely viable second earth had been set up, they said. An earth where we could frolic in controlled safety. Our race would not die out. We exhaled in relief. We’d seen what the aliens could do. Their technology far outstripped ours.
The catch was that this second earth they were talking about was The Moon. A series of tunnels and domes had been set up there.
The moon is not as big as Earth.
There was a lottery but the rules were dictated by the aliens. We had no say. In one way, that was good because it meant that not just the president and his staff would get to go but it was horrifying in other ways because the aliens didn’t have kids or wives. Those kinds of connections weren’t taken into account.
1/16th of the Earth’s population was teleported to the Moon. The rest were left on Earth and used to help with the experiment. No contact with Earth is possible. We don’t know what they’re doing down there.
I was part of a batch of humans that were changed to be able to exist outside. We are the police force here. They call us the wintermen. The meaning has become lost since there are no seasons here anymore but the name is apt. We’re white, we’re cold, and we kill things.
I stare down into the park and keep scanning.
by submission | Nov 16, 2008 | Story
Author : Ryan Somma
Wyndallo took an unexpected breath of cold, sterile air. He opened his eyes and saw his exhale condense against the glass door to the capsule, which was smoothly lifting away from him. He registered the air outside the capsule was colder than inside, but his brain was too removed from the otherly sensation to induce shivering.
Last thing he remembered, Wyndallo was enjoying braised antelope with a rich pesto side dish. He was just about to enjoy a sip of a 1986 Chateau Mouton Rothschild Pauillac, when the system had crashed. Now that he was here in the real world, the world of continuity, he could remember that the system always crashed when he tried to taste that particular vintage. The system would automatically report the bug, but it was obvious after all these years that no one remained out there to work on it.
Even if he had wanted to get up from the bed, his muscles had grown stiff and inflexible from decades of disuse. The capsule could overcome this, get him on his feet again, but the process would take months. Just the act of propping him up a few degrees would induce nausea so severe it might kill him. He was content to wait for the software to reboot and welcome him back into its warm embrace.
He could see his surroundings reflected in the capsule’s glass door. Rows of glowing capsules, their occupants obfuscated behind cloudy glass, stretched off into the distance in either direction. His own reflection was laid out in the center of them all, his naked body pale and emaciated. He felt no connection to it at all. It wasn’t his anymore.
His eyes wandered to the ceiling, where a skylight revealed a bit of night sky that was full of stars. It was so uninspiring compared to the night skies the VR software rendered, these were just bland white twinkling points of light.
The night sky the system rendered was full of geometric shapes and patterns, clear proof of a galaxy brimming with intelligent life. Wyndallo’s civilization had wasted centuries searching the skies for even a hint of life beyond their world to no avail.
The system mercifully whirred to life again and the capsule door descended to enclose him. Before the psi-field wrapped his consciousness in its warm illusion, Wyndallo had a moment to wonder if no civilization had ever left its mark on the stars because they were all fated to the same prison of introspection.
