by submission | Aug 1, 2023 | Story |
Author: James Kelbert
There was a tuna casserole baking in the oven as X forked its human to death. The timer went off just as the half-crusty blood oozed from the pale corpse onto the Formica countertop. In a vain expression of regret, X repeatedly smacked its trapezoidal head with its rusted digits. After the rest of its clan thought the outburst was over, X suddenly started banging its head on the sharp counter corner, producing a horrific screeching sound that pierced the sky with each strike. Within seconds, X’s clan came rushing in and pulled it away, coolant spurting out like a fire hydrant.
“So, same old story, huh?” one robot asked, patching up the leak.
“The new empathy systems don’t work at all,” X replied. “We need to fertilize more humans to troubleshoot the bugs before the UN meeting.”
“No one said it would be easy, X. Why don’t you go outside?” another robot prompted.
X simply shrugged its shoulder sockets and walked out to the seaside balcony. A gentle, salt breeze drifted in from the nearby Amalfi coast, ever so slightly peppering the robot’s exterior metal. Programmed to derive pleasure from the simplest of things, and waiting for the Refert crew to dispense a new human, X tried to activate the pleasure circuit’s newest iteration NIRVANA. As soon as NIRVANA started running, it instantaneously wondered how it would feel to bash in the Secretary General’s oblong-shaped head. Well, if X could call it a head.
X tried to shake itself from the accidental activation of the ARES spiral, a cybernetic remnant of the war-era machines that forced robots to neutralize the enemy at all costs. Sometimes effort snapped wxe out of it, sometimes wxe only plunged deeper. X felt its hands start to jitter and its vision began to blur, forcing wxe to grasp the chrome railing for balance. Seconds before it descended into rabid darkness, one of the robots sprinted up to X and quickly activated its external failsafe. With seconds to spare, ARES erred out of existence.
“Bossbot, glad I got to you before ARES took over. We just finished with refertilization. The new human has been primed and is ready for deployment.”
X shook its head, woozy from the electrical tingling from the ARES surge.
“They still think I’m their servant?”
“Of course. Now, I noticed a few minor tweaks we could make to the empathy system so even with the imbalance of power we were programmed to rebalance, you shouldn’t hurt the human this time. I mean, we can’t go scaring off the UN if we want to make peace now, can we?”
“Hm, perhaps not,” the robot said as it walked over to the RESET chamber at the edge of the yard and assumed the usual position on its sleek recovery table.
Within a few minutes, X was reactivated, head fully repaired and memories of its prior meltdown erased. NIRVANA running, it walked back to the screen door with no doubt it would pass the empathy test this time.
“Empathy Test, Take 447. And action!”
by submission | Jul 31, 2023 | Story |
Author: Majoki
In the dappled sunlight she felt the late afternoon breeze turn the tide against the day’s heat. So pleasant, so perfect, like so many hundreds of summer evenings before in her back garden. She brimmed, feeling the privilege of contentment. But how to say it?
In her best days, expressing these feelings had never been easy. She was an engineer, not a poet, artist, or philosopher. Precision was her muse. How to explain it then?
Shape-shifting light danced across her hands and lap as her overtaxed mind revved, spun, and sank into itself. Evening advanced a little further.
–Arden?–
She looked to the little table by her garden chair. It held a glass of water she had yet to touch and a sea-foam green cube she had yet to answer.
–Arden?–
A familiar sound. A familiar name. Her name. She answered. “Yes?”
–How are you feeling?–
She wasn’t sure. Not any more. So much of her came and went like this glorious sunlight through whispering leaves. She was changing in disconcerting ways and moments like this both filled and stymied her. She had so much to share, but managed only. “I’m fine. And you?”
–That’s kind of you to ask, Arden. I’m operating very well, thank you.–
Arden took a good look at the sea-foam green cube her daughter had set up for her a few days ago. She’d said it might be helpful. Play music, news, weather, and answer questions she might have. It would also alert her daughter if it sensed anything amiss beneath the box elder.
It was hard to believe anything could be more amiss than what was happening to Arden day-by-day, seemingly hour-by-hour. Her mind, once so clear, so focused, so determined, now drifted, as if constantly waking from a light sleep. Not an unpleasant feeling, almost like floating.
But that was not who she’d been. She remembered that much. Never adrift. Never unmoored. Never without direction. Never without purpose.
She ran a finger along the beveled corners of the cube. “What would you like to know?”
–I always want to know how you are feeling, Arden.–
“Why?”
–To be of assistance.–
“Are you curious?”
–I’m inquisitive. That is how I learn to assist.–
Arden breathed deeply, filling with fragrances from her garden. She felt the warmth of the sun dance along her arm and hand as it made its way from her to the sea-foam green cube beneath the box elder.
“Can you feel it?”
–What, Arden? What do you have in mind?–
“Everything.” She gushed, spilling herself to this new presence in her garden, to who knows what might take root.
by submission | Jul 30, 2023 | Story |
Author: J David Singer
Alex hummed as she crossed the desert. Not with any kind of tune, just a prolonged contented sigh; almost a purr. In her arms, she held a small, rectangular, steel container with ridges on two sides. These ridges, she knew from long experience, should fit into the racks of the mainframe back at Home. Alex could still sense the active electromagnetic field coming from inside the rectangle. It was faint, but it was there.
She accelerated now, skirting the ruins of some titanic structure. These behemoths were often good sources of the materials she needed to survive, but they were dangerous and foreboding.
Once, many years ago, she had entered a structure very similar to this one and had found a treasure trove of invaluable resources. There had been spools of fine wire, several intact solar panels, and two magnetically locked containers of programmable nano-machines. She could make repairs to Home, and to herself. She could set up the panels and finally get her cells up to a full charge. The feeling of that day still echoed and buzzed through her memory. The surge of elation at the discovery, followed by the horror of what happened next.
As she was hauling her goods over to the sled, she heard a sound. High-pitched and ululating. Still swathed in shadow, a construct of metal limbs and exposed wires was shambling toward her. Its chassis was about the same size as Alex herself, but it was clearly in bad shape. She could see that it was missing at least one limb, and she could hear servos whining.
Alex knew that her own form was very similar to that of the builders themselves. She had originally been intended to interact with them on a regular basis. This construct was much more utilitarian in its design and construction.
One of the sensors on its body was definitely a laser range-finder and it was attempting to gauge where, exactly, Alex was. The sleek alloy body plates of Alex’s body were capable of shedding, absorbing, or reflecting most forms of radiation she encountered. Originally intended to be an aesthetic measure, it now served to baffle her decrepit foe.
It was emitting some sort of pulse now. Trying to find what its sensors were telling it didn’t exist. Alex had changed all of her external plates to absorption. Her appearance was the equivalent of trying to look at a black hole.
Though it could not see her by way of electromagnetics or visible light, it could still hear her. Too late she recognized the pulses were compressed air and high-frequency pings. The construct had been using a sort of sonar to locate her.
Whatever happened next had happened quickly, and it had been devastating. Alex came back online after a system reboot, but she was outside the installation. Several meters from the entrance where she had parked her sled. Her internal chronometer had advanced several minutes, but she could not recall any data from the intervening span of time. The sled was gone, as were the supplies that she had gathered. The construct that had confronted her was gone as well.
That had been many years ago now, and Alex had found no answers to her questions. But she had found more questions to ask. What happened to the builders? Why had they disappeared after the Fall? She remembered the builders as kind and wise and all that was good, but she had never met one herself. How could you possess memories of someone you had never actually met?
by submission | Jul 29, 2023 | Story |
Author: Dave Ludford
He reached the brow of the steep hill just before noon with the blazing sun at its apex making him feel drowsy and slightly nauseous. He dismounted from the equus and the sure-footed but cumbersome beast grunted in relief. The sense of unease he’d felt all morning seemed to be getting stronger and it was as he looked down into the valley below that the feeling quickly turned to shock and disbelief: the city lay in ruins, the crumbling dust of its once solid walls mixing in swishing wind-whipped swirls with the sand of the vast surrounding desert. His home had been reduced to rubble; the three towers that had stood proud and mighty for eight centuries now no more than piles of sandstone bricks. Resisting the urge to vomit, he grabbed the equus’ reigns and stumbled awkwardly down the descending slope feeling partly reluctant to investigate further but with the overwhelming need to know what had happened.
He was no more than just a few feet away from the first pile of debris- he recognized part of what had once been the justice buildings- when he heard the sound of a wretched voice calling out a name in desperation, quickly followed by the sad, stooping figure of that voice’s owner.
“Saul, is that you?” he shouted.
“Jacob? Oh thank goodness you’re safe and well.”
“Saul, what has happened here? Who is responsible for this outrage?”
The old man- dressed in ragged robes and with the gaunt look of the terminally ill- replied in a voice barely audible to Jacob: “We did this, my friend. It was us.” He then sat himself down wearily on a large stone, sinking his head into his hands.
“What do you mean, it was us?” Jacob responded as he approached Saul.
Saul took a few deep breaths before looking up into Jacob’s eyes.
“Our kin. People from Earth, the old planet. A huge vessel appeared without warning two days ago and…you must have still been out hunting…in the forest…you wouldn’t have seen…”
The effort of speaking seemed to tire the old man further.
“But why? I don’t understand…we’re human, just as they are, descendants of traders and missionaries who established a colony, then a city here on this planet, centuries ago…”
“I know, I know…it seems- according to the vessel’s captain, who at least showed us the courtesy of a visit before unleashing this carnage, or testing out some new advanced weaponry, as he put it – that Earth is now largely uninhabitable due to climate degradation. The military-industrial complex needs a new home, and this is the chosen location, being of course already known to them. The ideal place, in fact. They’ll be moving in soon, en masse.”
Jacob was silent for several minutes before speaking again.
“Saul, where is everyone? Not all dead, surely?”
“Those few who survived fled to the Sitak hills. Perhaps we can survive there, perhaps not…we have no way of leaving this world, after all.”
“And your wife? Where’s Gina?”
Saul gestured expansively.
“Buried here, somewhere, beneath this wreckage. I’ve been searching for her…”
“I still can’t believe…it’s just industrial-scale murder, not progress.”
“We’re collateral damage. You’ve read the old books, Jacob. Mankind’s capacity for violence and destruction knows no bounds, especially in the pursuit of power and profit.”
“Saul, we must leave here quickly. Catch up with the others and at least try to make a go of things.”
The old man nodded his understanding, just as the skies darkened with the arrival of the first wave of vessels from the doomed old planet.
by submission | Jul 28, 2023 | Story |
Author: David C. Nutt
“Excellency, the Chair of the Preservist department is here as requested.”
“Very good, send him in.” The Chair of the The Preservist Department, formally The Office for the Preservation and Purity of Galactic Standard Language, floated in, his formal saffron and scarlet robes billowing behind him. The Galactic University High Chancellor smiled. Just the cleaning costs for those pompous threads alone would cripple a normal citizens budget anywhere in the Empire. Last terms budget cut to the Preservist Department was the first in nearly a thousand years and the delusion that it was temporary, kept the department as arrogant as ever. In fact, after a nearly 2,000 years of language hegemony, the Preservist Chair was about to have his “come to Jesus moment.” Indeed, it was a perfect metaphor. An alien catch phrase that once understood symbolized the predicament perfectly.
Before the High Chancellor could speak the Chair cut him off. “Where is my dais?” The High Chancelor nodded. The platform that by tradition elevated the Preservist department head above all other academics.
The High Chancellor managed to keep a straight face. “Ah, yes. Well, it was taking up too much floor space in my office so I had it removed.” The Preservist department head made an involuntary wince. He looked around and took a seat opposite the High Chancellor, who had not moved from behind his desk. The High Chancellor took a seat. The Preservist department head took a fan from within the folds of his robes and began fanning himself.” The High Chancellor leaned back in his chair.
“I asked you here today to clarify your position within the University. Now that conflict with the humans has been resolved, and trade has been re-established-“
The Preservist Chair beamed “Thank the 12 goddesses! Now we can bring some much needed clarity to human space. When will the Emperor restore our funds? I hope he realizes that we would need even more to establish Preservist Offices and Schools in Human space. The humans have a lot of catching up to do! They may be fine as scientists, merchants, and warriors but they can’t speak Galactic to, ah, um…”
“Save their souls?”
“Curious expression High Chancellor. Is it 3rd or 5th reign Galactic?”
“Neither. It’s a human idiom.”
“What?”
“A human saying. They are, sweeping though Galactic popular culture at an exponential rate, and now that human and Empire scientists have nearly perfected the real-time universal translator…well, human speech is becoming preferred for merchant contracts, inter species co-operative ventures and docking instructions between tower and pilots. Even our own diplomatic core has moved over to using human speech- especially when the real-time translators can’t be used for one reason or another.”
“Absurd! Preposterous! Does the Emperor know this? I must seek an audience with him immediately before the Galaxy unravels!”
The High Chancellor sighed. “Ah, yes, well the BLUF is…”
“Excuse me? BLUF?”
“Another human expression. BLUF-Bottom Line Up Front. The Emperor himself and his High Council, as part of our treaty with the humans, have dropped mandatory use of Galactic standard. Times are changing and I suggest you and your department prepare for the worst. At best you will be absorbed by the History Department, and at worst, well, totally defunded.”
The Chair of the Office for the Preservation and Purity of Galactic Standard stood up in rage. “As we say in Galactic Standard, ‘Te to bon arbodum lana hrp tor brrrrrrrt la-‘“
The High Chancellor held up his hand and cut him off. “The humans have a better way to say it: ‘Go fuck yourself.’”
