by Patricia Stewart | Oct 29, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
When the 4 mile long asteroid hit, the damage was devastating. Billions died from the earthquakes, tsunamis, and fires. And billions more would have died of starvation, if not for the “fortuitous” intervention of the Dowliens. During the three years of perpetual cloud cover, their spaceships were able to provide food to keep us alive, but did little else. Much of our infrastructure collapsed, and our high tech industries and equipment became neglected and in disrepair. We became a welfare civilization completely dependent on the apparent kindness of the Dowliens. However, when the cloud cover eventually subsided, some of us amateur astronomers dusted off our telescopes and began making some troubling observations. Troubling enough, in fact, for a group of us to petition the Dowlien Embassy for an explanation.
The orange lizard-like assistant to the sub-minister of the regional secretary stood behind a stainless steel desk. Its vertical slit pupils were centered in large lidless yellow eyes. One of its leathery hands was balled into a fist, with its two opposable thumbs interlocked between three slender fingers. Its other hand held a combination data-padd/translator. “Purpose of visit?” questioned the baritone voice from the translator.
“You know why we’re here,” I replied, straining to control my anger. “You’re the tenth bureaucrat we’ve met with today. As I told them already, we’re on to you guys, and we demand action.”
“You demand?”
“You’re damn right ‘we demand’. Something’s wrong in the sky. All the planets have disappeared, the moon’s phases are screwy, and the sun’s parallax is too large.”
“How do you know these things?” it hissed.
“Observations. And it wasn’t easy either. The restrictions that you guys impose on us make it next to impossible to get around, or to communicate with each other. It’s time that you admit what you’ve done.”
“Interesting. What is it that you believe we have done?”
“We think that during the three years of cloud cover, you built a Dyson sphere around our sun. And you replaced it with a small artificial sun 38,000 miles above the Earth. You thought that if it orbited the sky in exactly 24 hours, we would assume that it’s our sun.”
“Why would we do this incredible thing?”
“Energy, or course. The sun emits 250,000,000 times more energy than reaches the Earth. Your little satellite gives us our original share, and you keep all the rest.”
“Extraordinary.”
“There’s more.”
“Please, continue.”
“We think that you forked tongued bastards planned this from the beginning. We were so grateful for the help; we never questioned how you managed to have so many supplies here in only a few weeks. We want our sun back, and we want you to get the hell out of our solar system.”
I guess it smiled. Who knows? It pressed a button, and six armed lizards formed a circle around us. “Remarkable reasoning, earthman,” it said. “Surprisingly, you got it right. Had it been up to me, I would have just built the sphere and let you furbags freeze to death. Unfortunately, the bleeding hearts on Dowl Prime passed legislation forcing us to preserve at least 50% of all sentient life forms. Frankly, I think it’s a policy that needs to be reevaluated.” He instructed the guards, “Go ahead and execute this group before they spread their theories.”
“What? You can’t execute us.”
“Sure I can. We’ve only killed 1.7 billion humans so far. The law lets me go to 3.4 billion. But honestly, what did you think we were going to do? Leave? Not even if you had said ‘pretty please’. Now, take them away.”
by Patricia Stewart | Oct 21, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
“Okay, Mister, er…,” Phillip Richfield glanced at his monitor, “Rousseau, what’s the crisis? Is something wrong with the orbital elevator pump?”
Soren Rousseau, one of the many “facilitators” hired by The Greenhouse Gas Project, had only been on Titan for six months, and this was his first encounter with the Director of Operations. “No, Mr. Richfield.” He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “It’s more important than that. We need to shut the entire methane transfer operation down. Titan’s oceans contain an indigenous life form that the original survey team missed. We need to preserve their habitat.”
“Life form?” questioned Richfield. “You mean there are fish swimming in these oceans?”
“Uh, no sir. It’s more like proto-bacteria. Still, it’s the first case of extraterrestrial life ever detected. Their existence will revolutionize the field of exobiology.”
“Did it ever dawn on you that the bacteria are something that we introduced into Titan’s oceans?”
“Yes, sir. I had the chemistry department check some samples for polymerase chain reactions. There weren’t any, so their biochemistry doesn’t contain DNA. It can’t be Earth-based contamination.”
“Well, I say that it is Earth-based contamination. Son, let me explain the big picture to you. A hundred years ago, the sun entered a long-term phase where solar irradiance started steadily decreasing. If we didn’t do something to maintain the surface temperature of the Earth, it was going to turn into a giant snowball. The Greenhouse Gas Project was created to collect and deliver the equivalent of one trillion cubic feet of methane gas to the Earth every week in order to produce enough greenhouse gasses to sustain the average surface temperature of 52 degrees Fahrenheit. We’re already behind schedule, and you want me to shut down the project to save proto-bacteria. It’s not going to happen. There are billions of human lives are at stake. Now, get back to work.”
“With all due respect, Mister Richfield, I can’t in good conscience sit quietly while you destroy the greatest scientific discovery in history. You’re going to force me to go public.”
Richfield smiled. “Is that so? Well, I guess you haven’t read the fine print on your contract. Because it cost billions of dollars to transport and support the people on Titan, the government has given us extensive leeway pertaining to your ‘civil rights.’ As a consequence, we own you for five years. You have no say in the matter. So, effective immediately, you’re being reassigned to a survey mission in the Oort Cloud. Now, go pack up your personal effects, your shuttle will leave within the hour. And don’t think about using the radio, your privileges are revoked.” He pressed an intercom button. “Yukos, please have security escort Mister Rousseau to his quarters, and then to the shuttle bay. He’s going on special assignment.”
Two burley security guards came into Richfield’s office and forcibly carried Rousseau away, amid his vehement curses and threats. Richfield then called the Director of Transportation. “Mikhail, I need a favor. I’m sending a disgruntled employee on an extended survey mission. I need his shuttle pre-programmed to take him to the Oort Cloud. Also, you’ll need to disable his radio.”
“Sure thing, Phillip. I’ll take care of it myself. What’s your preference this time: reactor malfunction, carbon dioxide poisoning, decompression?”
“He’s a decent guy, Mikhail, but misguided. Let’s make it quick.”
by Patricia Stewart | Oct 9, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The prosecutor stood up and addressed the Judge. “Your Honor, now that the Mr. Barr has been found guilty of murdering Kurt Atwater, the prosecution wishes to announce its intention to seek the imposition of the death penalty, as mandated by global law.”
“Objection,” shouted the Barr’s attorney. “Global law clearly stipulates that a minimum of three murder victims are required in order to invoke capital punishment. My client has only been convicted of one.”
The Judge turned toward the prosecutor and said, “That is the law, Counselor. So, unless you have evidence that the defendant killed two more people, I have no choice but to sentence Mr. Barr to twenty five years to life.”
“Actually, Your Honor, I do,” the prosecutor replied as he held up an evidence chip. “I’d like to enter into the record a sworn affidavit from the Director of Temporal Management from Future Timelines, Inc. Attachment A to the affidavit is Temporal Report Number 2162.326.56-MJ documenting Kurt Atwater’s presumed future. It attests that had Mr. Atwater not been murdered, he would have had three children; Cory, Robin, and Alexander. They would eventually have given Mr. Atwater seven grandchildren, and eighteen great grandchildren. I could go on, Your Honor, but clearly, as a consequence of this one murder, more than twenty eight additional individuals have been deprived of their rightful life. I submit that, in essence, they were also murdered by the defendant.”
The defendant’s attorney jumped to his feet in protest. “This is ridiculous. My client cannot be held accountably for the hypothetical deaths in some imaginary future.”
The prosecutor quickly countered, “Your Honor, there is prior precedent. In the case of Cassomandi v Gressett, testimony by Future Timelines established that Gressett’s failure to attend mass on June 9, 2165 set up a chain of events that precipitated the Great Massachusetts Fire of ‘66. The evidence was admitted by the presiding Judge, and the verdict was upheld by Higher Courts.”
“Your Honor,” pleaded the defense attorney, “That was a civil case; it has no bearing in a criminal proceeding.”
The Judge pounded his gavel and ordered both attorneys to prepare briefs for his consideration. Over the next several months, the briefs were reviewed, evidentiary hearings were convened, testimony was presented, rulings were made, and the defendant was sentenced to death. Over the next several years, the sentence was appealed, and upheld, all the way to the World Ultimate Court.
On the scheduled date of the execution, the prosecutor sat among the twenty witnesses as Barr was lead into the disintegration chamber. As the seconds ticked away, the executioner covered his right ear with the palm of his hand, indicating that his telecommunications implant was receiving an incoming call. The executioner nodded his head several times. He lowered his hand and ordered the guards to escort the prisoner back to his cell. Irate at the turn of events, the prosecutor pushed his way toward the executioner. “What happened? Why is this murderer not being executed?”
The executioner motioned the prosecutor toward a quiet corner of the room. “A reprieve from the Governor. Barr’s sentence was reduced to twenty five years to life. Apparently, his attorney had Future Timelines determine what would have happened if you didn’t use the victim’s unborn children at the sentencing hearing. As it turned out, Barr would have been released after serving thirty years. He eventually married, and had two children. The Governor refused to allow the unborn children to be deprived of their rightful life by executing their father.”
by Patricia Stewart | Sep 30, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
Dominating the center of “The War Room” was a large horseshoe-shaped mahogany conference table. At the head of the table sat the President of The United Earth, and his Joint Chiefs of Staff. Along the two sides of the conference table sat the Cabinet Members, Ministers, and Regional Governors. A large holographic 3-D map of the “Local Galactic Region” filled the space within the horseshoe. Glowing red spheres about five centimeters in diameter represented Sol, and the systems controlled by Earth Gov. The star systems controlled by the Eridani were glowing blue. Currently, there were thirty-seven red spheres creating a thin crescent that nearly encapsulated the eleven closely packed blue spheres.
Also within the horseshoe stood Fleet Admiral Fritz Haber. He purposefully walked through the hologram of the Centari System, and stopped within arm’s reach of Sol. He gave a sweeping gesture with his right hand toward the small cluster of blue orbs a few dozen meters behind him. “Mr. President,” he projected in a baritone voice that radiated both power and confidence, “the Eridani have retreated into a small defensive shell, and our noose is tightening.” He balled his extended hand into a fist. “It is time, Mr. President, to use the hyperspace transporter, and end this war quickly and decisively.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, Admiral,” responded President Rutherford with more than an edge of agitation in his voice. “The hyperspace transporter is a cowardly form of warfare, which does not commend itself to me or Earth Gov. We will win this war using conventional weaponry.”
“With all due respect,” protested Admiral Haber, “that will likely cost us billions of lives. The Eridani will not give up easily.”
“Perhaps,” conceded the President. “But transporting bombs directly onto the bridge of enemy starships, or into Eridani factories, is unethical. Need I remind you of Earth’s pre-stellar barbarism? Poison gas, biological warfare, and nuclear weapons were used against defenses soldiers and civilians. This new hyperspace transporter can penetrate all known mass and electromagnetic barriers. At lease there are countermeasures for conventional transporters. We must engage the enemy in a fair fight. If we use this new hyperspace technology, history will not look favorably upon us.”
“History is written by the victors, Mr. President. Besides, it would be naive for us to assume that the Eridani aren’t also developing this technology. Fortunately, we beat them to it, which gives us a brief strategic advantage. I emphatically recommend that we use it with impunity now, and deal with the consequences after the Eridani are crushed. Then, if a Galactic Convention wants to outlaw its use, so be it.”
“No, Admiral. I will not authorize the killing of defenseless beings.”
Admiral Haber realized that he needed to change tactics. It was clear that he was not going to win this argument, so he decided to attempt a compromise. “Understood, Mr. President. But, sir, can I at least offer a counterproposal? What if we only use the weapon once? Would that be acceptable? Perhaps we can kill the snake by cutting off its head. My tacticians say that with proper trilateralation, they can place a bomb under Emperor Sune-ku’s bed. Without Command and Control, the Eridani resistance may crumble. We could still achieve a quick victory.”
Just them, a metallic object about half a meter across appeared at the admiral’s feet. It had the Eridani phrase “Ezel on-ze k’ussen” printed in bold letters around the circumference. Seconds later, The War Room, and its occupants, were vaporized in an antimatter explosion.
by Patricia Stewart | Sep 21, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
Three aliens floated a few dozen meters beyond the ship’s forward observation viewport. They were formless blobs approximately two meter in diameter. The center creature was glowing a faint orange-red, with numerous concentric yellow circles forming and disappearing every few seconds. The two outside creatures displayed counter rotating fluorescent red spirals on predominately blue bodies. “They’re obviously trying to communicate with us,” concluded the science officer. “I’ve been studying them for hours, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what they’re trying to say.”
“They appear to be semitransparent,” the captain observed.
The science officer grimaced.
“You have something to report, Lieutenant?” probed the captain.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I was holding off on speculation until I had a better understanding of the physics. It appears, sir, uh, that the aliens are composed of… damn… stationary photons.”
Despite the apparent absurdity of the statement, the captain managed to maintain his professional demeanor. “You’ve got my attention, Lieutenant. Feel free to speculate. Off the record, of course.”
“Aye, sir. Thank you. As you know, in our universe all electromagnetic radiation moves at the speed of light. The instant a photon comes into existence, its traveling at the speed of light. Never faster, never slower. However, our sensors indicate that those creatures are composed of photons that are not moving relative to us, which according to quantum chromodynamics, is impossible. They appear to have a cohesive structure composed of light ‘particles,’ rather than condensed matter. It’s like their wave-particle duality is all particle and no wave.”
“How is that possible?”
“If I were to guess, sir, I’d say that they exist on a separate membrane where the fundamental relationships between elementary particles are reversed. In other words, photons move slowly, and matter must move at 300,000,000 meters per second.”
“Fascinating,” replied the captain. “I was thinking, what if… Now what’s going on?” The brightness of the creatures suddenly intensified, and their color patters began to reverse and pulsate. “Boy, they certainly seem to be pretty animated about something. Do you think they’re threatening us?”
“Unsure, sir. Look, they’re backing away.” Suddenly, the interior of the ship began to glow a bright red, which quickly changed to orange, then yellow, green, blue, and finally violet. Nausea overtook the crew, and one by one, they collapsed to the deck and lost consciousness. When they finally came to, the view outside the observation port had changed dramatically. More than half the sky was occupied by a giant spiral galaxy. “Damn,” the science officer muttered. “That’s Andromeda. It’s supposed to be 2.5 million light years away. It’s probably only a few hundred thousand now. I guess those guys were trying to warn us not to get to close. We must have temporarily entered their universe. I suspect that we traveled more than two million light years while we were unconscious.”
“Can we get home?” asked the captain.
“That may be a moot point, sir. Unless I’m mistaken, we didn’t get here by distorting space-time in the conventional sense. Most likely, we temporarily acquired the properties of the alien’s universe and our physical matter has been moving through space at the speed of light. If true, that means that although we didn’t experience the passage of time, we’ve been traveling for more than two million years. Even if we could get back ‘home,’ we’d be the equivalent of australopithecines to our descendents.”
