by Julian Miles | Mar 3, 2025 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
“Sorry to disturb you, but the board are having conniptions over your expenses claim for this month.”
“Not unexpected.”
“They want justification for the seven-figure spend on ‘special developments’.”
“I needed some ancient and esoteric components; they never come cheap.”
“For that?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen that much computing power hooked up to what looks like a fishtank full of soup.”
“I’d be surprised if you had.”
“So, what unprecedented thing are you seeking this time?”
“A god.”
“Doesn’t He already exist?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“Then why do we need another?”
“Seen the outside world lately?”
“Isn’t that happening because we’re not following the rules? – Or is it because another god is messing with the rules? – I’ve never been clear about that.”
“Again, it depends on who you ask.”
“Okay, theological niceties aside: explain your aims.”
“No matter how much we try, there are elements of science, backed by a substantial body of verified evidence, that indicates vast areas of what we accept as reality remain effectively unquantified. In a few cases, it has already been tacitly accepted that some phenomena may never be explained.”
“Interesting preamble. Go on.”
“I propose that these unquantifiable areas are like the mathematical anomalies that led to the discovery of Neptune. They indicate the presence of an influence we have heretofore ignored.”
“I’d call that tenuous, but accept the premise for now.”
“As did I, until I exhausted the usual channels of explanation. I reluctantly concluded that the capricious variabilities observed in some but not all cases indicate an occasional conscious influence. Some undefined entity is affecting our reality in unusual ways. Why it is doing so, and to what ends, are the motivations for the experiment I’m nearly ready to run.”
“You’re trying to conjure up the entity that’s interfering with our science? Novel idea. I’ll skip the derision and delusion arguments to go straight to the first thing that occurs to me: if this being is possessed of such powerful and exotic abilities, I can understand you describing it as a god. However, whether we ascribe to monotheistic or polytheistic views, I’d have to opine this entity is likely in somewhat of an oppositional stance to the grand scheme humanity plays a large or small part in. You’re not hunting for a god. You’re hunting an anti-god.”
“An interesting distinction, although I’m not convinced. Your view is – by necessity – limited to the scope of this conversation. I’ve spent years researching the matter.”
“Which, by clumsy segue, brings me to my chief concern.”
“How?”
“‘Matter’. If divine beings exist, the beneficial ones – and arguably the inimical ones as well – all improve humanity, although for varying goals. What you seek is the rogue element, the opposing force, and we know what matter and antimatter do when they come into contact.”
“That’s an amusing interpretation. But I’m only aiming to manifest a single entity, so it’s ultimately irrelevant.”
“Okay, let me frame it in a monotheistic context: you are about to technologically manifest and thus scientifically prove the existence of The Devil. How can God ignore that? Basic science: how can an equal and opposite response not occur?”
“I remain unconvinced, but you do raise an area of risk I’d not considered. While I think it through, please inform the board that not all the esoteric components will be consumed by the experiment, and those remaining will offset eighty percent of their expense when sold after the experiment is completed.”
“Or you’ll have started Armageddon and money will have become irrelevant.”
“Get out.”
by Julian Miles | Feb 24, 2025 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
Oldun Peters takes a sip from his goblet, then raises it to the heavens.
“First for the body, second for the soul.”
People nod, but fewer and fewer copy him like I do.
He gives everyone a gap-toothed smile.
“What shall I tell of tonight?”
The little ones shout for ‘The Bear and the Piper’. Peters nods. I decide it’s time to check the watch posts.
“Once there was a fierce brown bear…”
His voice fades behind me. I’ve heard that tale nearly every night of my life. The telling of it gives me enough time to walk the outer path and be back in time for the big ones getting their turn at requests.
I hear him ask the question as I approach.
“What shall I tell of next?”
I shout.
“Of the first Time of Choosing and the Edict of Warriors.”
In the silence that follows, he waits for me to be seated, an uncommon courtesy. I nod my thanks.
“Once we were a world at war with ourselves, fighting over every little thing. Then the Shining Ones came down and told us why: we existed to fight. Lasting peace is against our natures, and against the will of those who placed us here. We savour the peace between battles, but it is the battles that put meaning upon us. That is what the Shining Ones offered. Our chance to be as we were meant to be. That first Time of Choosing was celebrated to the high heavens and back. Our greatest took service under the Silver Banners and went up into the golden vessels. Those who were left saw what remained and went to their Olduns for truth to be realised.
“They conferred amongst one another in a peace like none before, and in so doing came to the great understanding: we are born to be warriors in places far from here. The countless chariots, wagons, and warbirds we had cultivated were like children’s toys. We did not need them anymore. To be the best warriors we could be, to train and work in creating a land fit for the champions to return to. That is what is needed. The Edict of Warriors laid it out for generations to come, and they set it in stone and metal above the Choosing Grounds that it never be lost. We can never let our champions down. One day, we will share the joy of a warrior returned.”
I see nods from those nearest to him.
He looks about.
“I must confess that I asked Derkla to request these tellings. Out of all of us, only those who follow him have the potential to become Chosen. The rest of you need to become better.”
Hard eyes are turned towards me.
Peters laughs contemptuously.
“Stay your anger. I am only a herald.”
A figure steps from the shadows behind Peters. Gauntleted hands reach up to lift the dark helm that tops grey and blue armour.
“Tanogar!”
Peters claps his hands.
“We have our first warrior returned: a champion come to choose companions from their homeland.”
The green eyes I’ve remembered through smoke and summers fix on me.
“Let me save strife before celebrating. Peters spoke my words, and in proof I will take Derkla and all who follow him as my company. You all know what he does, you know how he leads, you know what he expects of those who follow him. So now you know what you must become to be Chosen.”
Given the looks I’m getting now, I’m glad to be going.
by Julian Miles | Feb 17, 2025 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
He’s going to watch it again. Unbelievable.
“Any chance of a coffee?”
The stare is a definite ‘no’ with an attempt at being hard.
“You can ask for details. I was there.”
Plus I have complete recall thanks to my action audit unit. I got it turned on after some clown tried to blackmail me into assassinating someone, then died. Not my fault the police failed to arrive in time to defuse the bomb he’d intended for me. The owners of the car park even tried suing for damages.
Pushing the display away, he stretches, then looks across at me.
“You’re a lucky man, Jarn. Most of you stockers are garbage collectors.”
The link attached to my official statement should allow government types to see my unredacted specs. I’m not a stocker-
Oh, for pity’s sake. Another amateur?
Let’s see.
“I do okay. Except when people try to roust me. That brings back memories. The memories bring back behaviours, and those cause a reaction. Which is why I’m here. The dead people started it by trying to run me down.”
He gives me a blank stare. Now that one works.
“You trotted up the bonnet, stomped through a reinforced windscreen, then punched Mike so hard he expired before Tino could help him? How is that a normal reaction?”
Tino couldn’t help because my boot through the windscreen embedded itself in their chest, a detail you should have just seen. I looked straight at them before extracting my foot so the audit would get it clearly.
“It’s a combative response thing. Like this.”
I pop the restraints and flip the table out of the way.
They always think attaching the cybered arm to the meat arm means I can’t escape. I have stress plates bonded to the bones specifically for that. I bleed, it hurts, and it helps.
He doesn’t react. Where did they find him? I kick out and his chair imitates a tablecloth pulled out from under the crockery. He actually hangs there, arse in the air, before toppling backwards.
A boot to the chest keeps him down while I take his gun.
“How are you familiar with them, and why shouldn’t I kill you?”
Pasty-faced of shit creek looks up at me with a dawning awareness of how deep the brown stuff has gotten hereabouts.
“You won’t get away with this.”
“Entirely possible. But you’ll still be dead.”
And there it is: eyes going wide as realisation bites down hard.
“I was told to keep you offline for seven hours.”
“How many outside?”
“No-one. We were a three-man team. I roped in a cosplay buddy before I came to get you.”
No wonder they were quiet. Quick thinking, though. Especially after losing two friends.
“Where’s the quiet box?”
If this is a trick, there’s a signal suppression unit somewhere.
“This place is an old fallout shelter. No need.”
Clever. Thought it was shabbier than your usual police station.
“Right. You’re going to stay here for the remaining five hours.”
“Why?”
I punch him. His head bounces off the floor. Probably survivable. I’m out of here.
There’s an elderly man in an expensive suit sat by the exit. Either side of him are bodyguards. The one on the right might slow me down – briefly.
“Well done, Jarn. My name’s Ethan. I’d like to offer you a job.”
Surprise, surprise.
“No thanks.”
I walk past.
Playing games like this? You’re either arrogant or stupid. Either of which will make working for you a pain in the arse.
First coffee, then lunch. Bloody amateurs, bane of my life.
by Julian Miles | Feb 10, 2025 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
The com lights up. Sally: Bradford, New Britannia, Earth? What the? How long has it been?
I stop rushing and let my AIde handle it.
“I’m supposing you’ve not heard-”
“You have reached the residence of Chris Utten. This is Alice, his AIde. Speak now to leave a message.”
“Hellfire and chips! You named it Alice? Answer the call, Chris…”
She waits. So do I.
“I’m sure you’re listening, but you always were more stubborn than me. I don’t have the advantage of being an obsessive waiting on a target.”
That’s unkind. Also true. My efforts to hide it… Probably made it obvious to everyone except me.
“Until I heard the word ‘Alice’, I hoped you’d moved on with your life. Now I suspect you’re doing quite well, but not as well as you could, because you’re always ready to rush across half of known space to be with a woman who never cared.”
What is this, interstellar pick on a hopeless romantic day?
She gives a soft laugh. I know that moment: looking down with a shrug as your vape runs dry at the exact moment you really needed a puff, or watching the tail lights of the last transport disappear as you make it to the pick-up point on a rainy night. You frown, give that laugh, and get on with your life like nothing happened. You’ve never known how much I envied that. Just roll with the inconvenience instead of spending a week working through every possible scenario for the day before the inconvenience, so it would have come out differently. At least I can stop those fixations trapping or distracting me these days.
“You’re wondering why I called, aren’t you? I hope you’re sitting down. Alice died in a shoot out with the police yesterday.”
I stagger back and fall onto the bed.
She what? She should have called… Why and how would she do that, you fool? Twenty-four years and I’m still an idiot.
“Seems like she’s been using the same trick she used on you to make herself a comfy living.”
Trick what? I never got close. Just loved her from afar, so sure she had a secret thing for me as well.
“Unfortunately for her, one of her marks was working with Pargilians. They spotted her telepathic touch.”
Telepathy?
“Which is why I’m calling. I think you should come back and lay claim to your absorption field technology. You know the one: you mentioned it to me when Renntech patented the same thing a couple of days before you intended to. You said there was no way they could have found out about it, so it must have been a freaky coincidence of parallel development.”
But if their source had been reading my mind as I reviewed the design and patent application…
“Turns out you got lucky. Her recent marks all died in suspicious accidents. That’s the other thing that gave her away once the police started investigating.”
Alice didn’t need to kill me. Just needed to ignore the infatuated inventor next door while eavesdropping on his mind. I wasn’t a threat, because I never suspected. How could I? Psionic abilities are still so incredibly rare among humans.
Sally sighs.
“Come home, Chris. It’s time to get on with your life. I won’t ask you to stay. Just come and claim what you never realised you missed.”
I sit up slowly. She hasn’t thought it through. If I go home, I’ll end up fixating on her.
Alice is gone, and I’m out here.
Which is exactly where I need to stay.
by Julian Miles | Feb 3, 2025 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
…And so the seas rose again, while volcanos and storms brought even more devastation and starvation. Those godly ones who led us looked within themselves and made a decision: in their image was the world, and in their image it would be again. But until the disasters abated, they would retire. There would be a time of darkness, but they promised to return in glory. The people lamented, but their gods were resolute: in order for great things to eventually continue, many things must first cease. They were withdrawing to ensure people survived. Doing it with sorrow, but it was the only way: the best for everyone.
And so they went, along with their chosen, into the heart of the land. Under a great mountain they created a haven, and into that they descended. Outside the grand entrance to that place there was a vicious war, as those expelled sought to re-enter and the unchosen sought to enter. Many more – equally unchosen but loyal – kept both hordes at bay until the gates closed.
In the aftermath, a frenzy took hold. Countless were those slaughtered in the killing madness that seized all. In the end, vanishingly few remained. Of them, only one was spoken of with awe.
Jenna strode from those gates so covered in bloody ruin that even those still in the grip of the madness shrank from her presence. Out into the storms and wildfires she went. Many said she had gone to die alone in the manner of all savage beasts.
She did not. Years later she returned, bringing with her an easing of the furious weather.
Upon a crude cart she brought a slab, and walked at the head of a throng, each of whom brought a slab of their own. Big ones, small ones, every possible size, colour, and shape. This multitude confronted those who had remained.
None dared stop her as she walked through and right up to the gates. With enormous effort, she lifted the slab from the cart and staggered forth to set it down against the junction of the two portals. Then she sank to the ground.
Laying hands upon that slab, she spoke her last words.
“Curse you for abandoning when you could have saved. We will do better. Without the fear and greed, without the lies and cruelty, we will remake this world. Stay inside your white god mountain. Watch us do what you would not.”
She died at that moment, anchoring the slab with her life. One by one, those who accompanied her laid their slabs, first to cover her body, then to cover the gates.
Those who had remained were the first to go forth and return with their own slabs. The pile grew into a ring, and still grows. Everyone brings a slab at some point in their lives: to lay a burden down, to mark a new hope, in remembrance, or in thanks.
It is also the way of this new world to bind agreements by placing a slab. Not one promise so made has been broken.
Those old gods were both right and wrong: the mountain has become a shrine, but not to them. It is Jenna’s Grave, and we honour her with every slab.
