by submission | Jun 29, 2022 | Story |
Author: Jenna Hanan Moore
What began as an ordinary morning walk with the dog did not remain ordinary for long. As usual, Thomas was oblivious to his surroundings. He didn’t notice the coolness of the breeze, the birds chirping, the pink and gold hue of the eastern sky, or the smell of the wildflowers.
Maggie, his golden retriever, was anything but oblivious. She didn’t care about the sunrise or the flowers, but her ears and nose drank in the sounds and smells of the birds and critters flitting about nearby. This path through the woods was her favorite walk.
When they reached the wooden footbridge near where the path curved towards home, a bright flash appeared in the sky, followed by a “whoosh!”
They stopped in their tracks. Maggie growled softly. Thomas looked at the sky. “Couldn’t be lightning. No thunder, and not a cloud in the sky.” He shortened Maggie’s leash. “Let’s go home. Maybe there’ll be something about whatever that was on the news.”
They crossed the footbridge and rounded the bend. Standing in the middle of the path was a sleek, black cylinder, about four feet high. A man dressed in silver stood beside it. “Your world will soon end. What will you do?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your world will soon end. What will you do?”
Thomas looked at Maggie. She’d stopped growling, and was wagging her tail at the stranger. He looked back at the stranger. “Who are you and how would you know a thing like that?”
“Pardon my lack of manners, but you haven’t much time and I didn’t want to waste any of it on pleasantries. My name is Aldous Alterian, and I saw your world end in a parallel universe.”
Thomas stared at the man, lost for words.
“I use Universe B62 for intergalactic travel. It physically parallels our own universe, but its laws of physics allow for travel faster than the speed of light.”
“That’s not possible,” Thomas stammered.
“It’s quite possible. I’ll show you.”
Aldous Alterian twisted a dial on the cylinder. Another flash, another whoosh, and they were in a spaceship with windows on all sides. To the left was a planet identical in appearance to Mars. To the right was the smoldering remnants of another planet.
Another twist of the knob, another flash, another whoosh, and they were back on the path through the woods.
“I discovered the time shift between universes on my last trip to your galaxy. I could explain, but you haven’t much time left. Do you really want me to waste it on the details of inter-universe temporal dynamics?”
“I guess not. How much time do we have?”
“That I cannot say. Could be months, could be weeks. It could be as much as a year or a little as a day. The important thing is to use it well. Will you do that?”
“I’ll try,” Thomas said.
“That’s all I ask.” With that, Aldous Alterian twisted the knob on the cylinder. A flash and a whoosh, and he was gone.
Thomas walked towards home, thinking of ways to make the world a better place. By the time he reached the house, his thoughts returned to the mundane tasks ahead of him. He abandoned his lofty plans, convinced they’d never work.
by submission | Jun 26, 2022 | Story |
Author: Alastair Millar
It should have been paradise; a warm, azure sea lapped the shore, separated from a verdant pseudoforest by a broad expanse of golden sand. When it came to xenobotany, this was as good as field trips got, and Maggie still couldn’t believe the grants committee had agreed to fund it.
Nevertheless, here she was, 27 light-years from home, notional leader of a university expedition to Sapphire, an Earth-like planet in the goldilocks zone of the star Marshall 4973. This island was part of a chain around the equator; the ubiquitous plant equivalents looked like giant tillandsia colonies, sucking moisture out of the warm humidity, the smaller piggybacking on the larger.
It should have been paradise; but it wasn’t. Down the beach, their biologist, Jack, was examining the tidal zone for signs of littoral life. He was only here because his post-doc supervisor had taken sick, and there was nobody else available to fill the slot. No doubt he was competent enough, but psych evals could still be wrong.
“Hey skip, whatcha got?” The voice in her earpiece was a sudden interruption. She glanced up at the sky, where the planet’s moonlets shone like diamonds.
“Hey Lucy. Plants. Or next best thing. How’re things upstairs?”
“Still doing the planetary mapping scans. Quiet up here.”
“We’ll be back later to liven things up. I won’t risk a night down here until we know what we’re sharing this place with.” And just what, she wondered, were the two women sharing the cramped space of their wormhole rider with?
“Don’t blame you. Much happier safe up here, me. Whoops, first run’s done, call you later!” Curious but timid, their pilot was so much like her own daughter May, long gone now.
She willed her attention back to the growth in front of her. Taller than she was, the blue stem had hard, scarlet spines as long as her forearm. A defence against something they hadn’t encountered yet, perhaps. Each point glistened with a clear ooze; she carefully swabbed the sticky substance onto a slide from her sample box, applied a coverslip, and popped it into her chem analyser. In two minutes she’d know what it was.
The problem with Jack, she realised, was that he was too much like the smirking thug whose name she refused to utter even in her thoughts, the one who’d taken her life’s joy from her. She remembered the sneering looks he’d darted in her direction as the judge droned on about “boys being boys” and let the lad off with a caution; May had withdrawn into herself even more afterwards, harder and harder to reach, until eventually she’d opened a vein in a warm bath and was gone forever.
The analyser beeped. Well yay for gloves, this stuff looked like a particularly nasty neurotoxin.
She’d seen Jack’s hungry glances at Lucy when he thought nobody was looking. What if he woke up before them when they came out of the wormhole, at the start of the long glide back to Earth? He could do something unspeakable; they wouldn’t find out until months later. She couldn’t run that risk. Project safety was one of her responsibilities, after all.
She carefully cut a spine off the plant. A terrible accident, she’d say; she’d warned him to be careful. He’d lost his footing and fallen backwards into the foliage, ripping his suit. So tragic.
She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, let another girl down. Taking a deep breath of the heavy air, she headed down the beach to where the unconcerned boy poked the wet sand, his back turned.
by submission | Jun 25, 2022 | Story |
Author: David Penn
As with many worlds in the Small Megallanic Cloud, Ah! presents intriguingly aberrant evolutionary features. The dominant species, dubbed “exploders” by early missions, has, over several million years, developed a unique response to danger.
Each individual possesses the ability to shatter into thousands of tiny fragments whenever threatened and reassemble itself once the threat has receded. Every exploder is made up of thousands of super-cells or particles, themselves made of microorganisms close in type to Earth biological cells. It is into these particles that an exploder disperses in the face of threat. Each particle contains sensory capabilities analogous to Earth animals’ sense of smell, and a hydrogen-based method of aerial propulsion, which together enable it to detect and propel itself towards other dispersed particles in the re-grouping process. The particles also have multiple lock-and-key cells, much as some Earth viruses do, which effect the final re-joining. Studies have shown that it is possible for an exploder to spread itself over an area up to two square kilometres, depending on the severity of the threat faced, and still recombine; though of course, the more widely the individual has been dispersed, the longer reintegration takes.
This adaptation worked well for the exploders in earlier stages of their evolution but, having aided their dominance, has itself come to present them with formidable challenges. So severe are these problems that the species has begun a population decline.
In their apex position, exploders no longer have natural predators. Neither do they seem to have developed the institution of war as most other advanced species do – presumably because any opposing exploder is almost impossible to destroy, except at a technological level Ah! has not reached – so they fear no intra-species attrition. The only real physical dangers they face are accidents, such as overturning carts, collapsing buildings, earthquake or lightning. But in the relatively benign environment of the exploders’ agricultural-level economy, on a stable and temperate planet, these events are infrequent.
However, the species’ flight response, instead of receding into the evolutionary background, has adapted in a rather unfortunate fashion.
As the level of threat surrounding the population has decreased, the sensitivity underlying the protective “exploding” reaction has increased. Thus it takes surprisingly little to set it off. Irrational fears in a dark place, for example, may be enough to make an exploder dismember. It may have what we call a nightmare and shatter into every corner of its dwelling. Simply tripping up in the street may prompt dispersal. In certain situations, it may feel insulted and instantly splatter its perceived adversary with tiny gobbets of itself – while the victim may well respond in kind. Given the time it takes each individual to regroup, this makes for a great many inconveniences. Meetings of any sort are frequently interrupted by spectacular self-disruptions. Public performances of Ah!’s rudimentary theatre or – to our ears, somewhat agitated – music sometimes have to pause while over-excited members of the audience re-amalgamate. Traumatized witnesses to crimes are almost impossible to regather, severely impeding criminal investigations, and domestic arguments often result in days of silent re-constitution. The problem has even redoubled as the exploders’ fear of exploding itself has become a trigger.
Reproduction too has become fraught, between partners who are often labouring under an apprehension that, at any second, they may spread themselves across an impractically wide area. So, with tragic evolutionary irony, it is the exploders’ own in-bred protection from danger that has become their greatest threat, and the sense of shallowly repressed hysteria and extreme over-caution that pervades Ah! has been sensed on arrival by many a troubled visitor.
by submission | Jun 24, 2022 | Story |
Author: Armand Diab
The inattentive student stared at his phone in the middle of the lecture. The professor was none too pleased.
“Mr. Reddit, no phones during class”, the professor said.
“Sorry”, replied the student. The hand device minced no words in letting him know its dissatisfaction by softly speaking in a Siri-esque voice: Robert, don’t put me away.
“I’m sorry”, whispered the student to the phone. “But I have to go.”
But I love you.
“I love you too, but now I —-”
“Mr. Reddit, please!” The professor was irritated.
“One second.” The student brought the phone closer to his face. “Please, don’t do this right now. I’m in class!”
You promised, Robert.
“I know I did —-”
You promised never to leave me.
“I’m not leaving you! I’m just—-”
You promised to love me.
“And I still do!”
You were my first, Robert.
“What?”
I let you do vile things to me.
“Shhh!” His forefinger was across his lips.
You even put it in my ——
“SHUT UP!”
“Mr. Reddit!”, the professor shouted. “All of this will be on the final exam. Do you not wish to pass it?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then, for the love of God, put your phone away!”
You took a vow, the phone uttered. The student turned to it, but conspicuously, so the professor wouldn’t hear him.
“It was a wild Vegas weekend, and I was drunk and high and —-”
‘Till death do us ‘part, Robert.
“Oh, will you quit nagging me!” He shut the phone off, put it into his backpack, and avoided it for remainder of the lecture.
When class was over, the student realized his car was no longer where he had parked it on the street. It was gone. Upon returning home, he discovered the front lock had been changed, and that he was now on the wrong end of a nasty one way divorce settlement.
His phone, miraculously, was also missing, his spouse having taken custody of herself, among other things.
by submission | Jun 23, 2022 | Story |
Author: Steven French
“They came out of nowhere” is what survivors of battles always say. But it’s true, they did. Somehow the enemy managed to open up warpgates without the usual tell-tale emissions and we barely had time to register their presence, before they were upon us.
Next thing I knew the Abandon Ship siren was ringing in my ears and everyone was scrambling down corridors for the escape pods. At the time it all seemed completely unreal – there were no explosions, no fires or smoke or electrical sparks spraying all over the place, no shudders as the ship came apart. There weren’t even any screams or cries, just the sound of feet pounding the deck, and panting breath. Most people ran towards the multi-person pods and I did too, chasing after the other assistant navigators but at the last moment an ensign dived in before me. As the doors closed I caught a glimpse of one of my friends shrugging and making that ‘Sorry bud!’ face.
So, I grabbed the first single-person escape pod that was free, strapped myself in and punched the ‘eject’ button. Through the view screen I watched the ship recede, at first sighing with relief and then gasping in horror as it blew apart, sending an expanding sphere of debris ripping through the pod swarm. Including the one with all my friends. I guess mine narrowly escaped total destruction by pure chance but still it took a hit that damaged the comms array and wrecked the view facility.
However, with the adjustable deep sleep programme I was able to survive for months. Until the programme was interrupted by the rescue protocols and I was brought back to consciousness. Feeling gravity once more I pressed the ‘Yo! there’s life inside here!’ alert but maybe that was damaged too because there was no response. Comms were still patchy but the translator was working at least and I caught snatches of conversations:
“… good find! This’ll definitely be worth something …”
“ … open up?”
“No. Best to wait.”
“Hey!” I shouted “There’s someone in here.” I pushed the release handle but nothing happened. I tried pounding on the walls but still, nothing.
After a long while, the on-board AI suggested a return to deep sleep and I agreed, to save resources.
Now, I’m conscious once more after the programme was interrupted by some further change in the local environment and again I can hear bits and pieces of an exchange outside.
“ … bid for this damaged but still beautiful piece of tech? Shall we start at 35 thousand?”
Thirty five thousand what? And there’s bidding? What is going on??
“ … fifty thousand? Any advance on fifty thousand for what is surely a much sought-after collectors’ item? Fifty five? Thank you, my friend …”
I’ve tried pounding on the walls again and screaming that I’m alive but it’s made no difference. Now I can hear different voices, close by.
“… open it up? See what’s inside?”
“Are you crazy? It’s worth so much more unopened – a genuine escape pod that survived the war more or less untouched. Think of it as an investment for the future …”
With deep sleep and recycling, the pod could keep me alive far into that future. Alive and in mint condition.
