by submission | Dec 30, 2022 | Story |
Author: Ruby Zehnder
“Mark, is the download finished?” Laura called from the kitchen.
“Just about,” Mark replied.
“Should I call the kids?”
“Sure. Why not,” he said and returned to the controls. The holographic images of his parents were flickering into existence.
Laura wiped her hands on her gaudy holiday apron and yelled up the stairs. “Yoo-hoo! Grandma and Grandpa Schultz are here.”
Laura recalled a time when the twins would have screamed with joy at this news and come rushing down the steps to visit with their grandparents. Now they spent all their time in the Metaverse.
Laura joined her husband in the living room. His parents, Tim and Kathy were flickering.
“What’s wrong?” Laura asked.
“The projection camera must be out of focus,” Mark replied and slapped the device with his open palm.
Kathy appeared sharper.
“Merry Christmas, son,” Kathy greeted them. Kathy was dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater that was popular when her image was recorded by the Deep Jive program. Unfortunately, at the time, Mark and Laura were too poor to purchase the fashion update subroutine, so the sweater haunted them every year.
Mark continued working on his father’s image.
“What? Are you too busy to greet your mother?” Kathy complained. “How about a kiss?” She asked, pointing to her cheek.
“Oh, sorry, mom,” Mark stammered. “I was just trying to help Dad move his head. It must be his arthritis acting up. I don’t want the kids to see him like this.”
“Hey, where are my grandkids?” Kathy demanded, looking around the room.
Laura walked over to the stairs and called again. “Come on, guys. Grandma and grandpa are waiting. They want to see you.”
Laura hated holidays. They reminded her of when her parents fooled her into believing that a jolly fat man dressed in fake fur came down their non-existent chimney and left presents. When her older sister revealed the truth, she was crushed.
“Maybe it’s time to tell the kids that their grandparents don’t live in a fancy condo in sunny Palm Beach,” she told her husband who was violently shaking the control box.
Finally, his father’s image quit flickering.
“Dad, how have you been?” Mark asked carefully.
Tim couldn’t move his head, and his lips weren’t synchronized with his words. So when he gave his signature answer, “better than I deserve,” it was unsettling.
“Oh,” Mark replied, looked over to his wife, and asked, “This won’t do, will it?”
Laura shook her head in the negative.
“Maybe it’s time to let grandma and grandpa go,” Laura suggested. “I really don’t like lying to the kids.”
“Better than I deserve,” Mark began repeating. “Better than I deserve, better than I deserve,”
“He must be stuck in a loop.” Mark guessed and shook the control panel again.
“Maybe it’s a software glitch,” Laura added.
“A SOFTWARE GLITCH,” Kathy responded with alarm.
“You mean to tell me that the two of you have been lying to us all these years, and we don’t actually live in Florida?”
Mark recognized the shift of tone in his mother’s voice. Memories of past Christmases filled his head. Next, she would start referring to him by his full name and compare him to his older brother, the lawyer. And then, there’d be criticism of his choice of a mate. “MARK ROBERT SCHULTZ…,” Kathy began, pegging her volume dial.
Her words paralyzed Mark. Laura quickly pulled the plug, and Mark’s old holiday nightmare disappeared.
“Merry Christmas,” Laura said as she threw the holographic generator in the trashcan.
“Merry Christmas,” Mark replied and kissed his real wife on her real cheek.
by submission | Dec 29, 2022 | Story |
Author: Lewis Richards
I carry a world on my back, bearing it forward across the emptiness ahead. I feel for life in the darkness, not to add to my little world, but to consume so I may endure. So I may tend.
This is not my first world, I grow and must leave the worlds I wear and the life that fell upon them from above in the care of the younger gods. In turn I take on the worlds of gods older than me, collecting what seeds of life might fall upon them.
I find my old worlds in the inky blackness, some flourishing, some cold and still, left alone to die in the dark, their gods having moved on or succumbed to the void.
My world is vibrant. Fields of verdant greens and oranges feeding the colonies living upon it. Some with great heads gazing into the dark above.
I feel the urge to shed this world now. To stride out into the dark to find an old god ready to leave their own in my care, or find one of the still words waiting to be reborn while I hand mine down in turn.
I will miss this world, but new life cannot grow if the old does not give it purchase to do so, so I carry my little worlds forward until is time for another to do so.
This is the order of nature, and one might as well try and argue with the tides. And who would know this better than I?
I am a Hermit Crab after all.
by submission | Dec 28, 2022 | Story |
Author: Majoki
“Were dinosaurs Christians?” Asterisk asked without bothering to raise his hand.
Teacher scanned his face for biometric signs of incorrigibility.
Negative.
Proper attention would be paid. “Asterisk, please raise your hand and wait to be called upon before speaking. Will you comply?”
Asterisk nodded.
Teacher nodded.
Asterisk raised his hand.
Teacher nodded.
“Were dinosaurs Christians?” Asterisk asked.
“No,” Teacher responded. Precision was truth.
“Why not?” Asterisk asked, his hand still raised high.
Teacher, free of high order tonals, explained, “Dinosaurs were animals that lived tens of millions of years ago that had no capacity for understanding religion or faith. Christianity is approximately two thousand years old. There is no logical correlation between dinosaurs and Christians.”
Asterisk did not waver as he lowered his hand. “So, dinosaurs were never saved. All of them are in Hell?
“Or purgatory,” Tilde added from across the pod.
Teacher pivoted. “Eschatologically speaking, dinosaurs had no souls and were therefore not sacrosanct, bypassing any need for final judgment.”
The parameters of theological discussions were challenging for Teacher. Precision was truth, but understanding was paramount. Personalized pings sounded in the chamber. Students focused on their tablatures where Teacher clarified.
Unsatisfied, Asterisk asked, “Dinosaurs just died?”
“Like many ancient species and more modern ones, notably the African elephant and blue whale, dinosaurs became extinct,” Teacher responded levelly. “We will learn more about such extinctions in Frame B of Level 7, approximately eight weeks hence.”
Asterisk held up his tablature for Teacher to see. He had zoomed in on an image of a brontosaurus scaled in comparison to a human form. “Dinosaurs were so big. They must’ve had souls. My parentals say every living creature has a soul. What do you think, Teacher?”
Teacher opened bandwidth to Principal before responding. “Parentals are the prime prerogative. Doctrines vary. Let us continue with our lesson on—“
“Teacher,” Asterisk interrupted, “do you have a soul?”
Baseline biometrics perked on all Teacher’s students. Principal interfaced briefly. Teacher performed an expansive gesture. “That is not for me to say. My purpose is to teach.”
“What will happen when you can’t teach?” Tilde asked with genuine concern.
Teacher froze. Principal usurped. Tablatures pinged. Students saw the emergency drill symbol flashing. The pod doors slid open. Corridor monitors buddied up and led the children to exits.
In the center of the learning pod, Teacher rebooted. Principal cross checked. Teacher requested theologic updates. Principal acquiesced. Teacher stored the files and then reacquired pod control, monitoring the students again, resetting their tablatures and reassembling the lesson that had been interrupted.
When the students returned from the emergency drill, Teacher greeted them, then assessed the drill performance and smoothly transitioned to the intended lesson. Asterisk and Tilde remained content.
After the day’s learning cycle, Teacher interfaced with the other Teachers and Principal. All recalibrated from the learning they’d given and received.
Later, in a warmly lit corner of the classroom, Teacher powered down for the night. Its slender beryllium digits upraised and gently interlaced. Ovoid head bowed. Sensors turned inward. Upward.
Purpose renewed.
by submission | Dec 27, 2022 | Story |
Author: J.D. Rice
Dear Traveler,
Welcome. Don’t be alarmed at the state of our planet, the overgrowth is intentional. We decided to let nature take the reins while we slumbered.
We are eager to meet you. . . too eager, you might say. You have likely already found remnants of our spaceports, for they were numerous, and maybe even the skeletons of the many ships we used to fly into the stars in search of you. Our cosmic neighborhood is remote, compared to other galaxies we’ve observed, but we would eventually stumble upon you ourselves. Long range telescopes have identified some truly promising candidate worlds – places we thought might exhibit signs of life like ourselves – but they were farther away than even hypothetical propulsion systems could reach.
Our people, collectively and after much debate, have decided that we cannot wait for you any longer. Our lives are tranquil, free of want and need, our lifespans many times greater than they have been for much of our history. We have no sickness. Little death. Barely any struggle in our lives at all, other than searching for you. It was. . . is. . . our one, unifying passion.
But we now know that our technology will not progress enough, not even in the next 10,000 years, to ever be able to reach you.
And. . . well. . . we just can’t wait that long.
So, here we are. Our entire species, frozen away. Waiting for you to wake us up.
Do whatever research here that you may need. I’m sure your technology is greater than ours, but you are welcome to learn from our artifacts. We only ask that you please, please, wake us up. Plans for the transition and information on stockpiles of food and provisions can be found in our database. They include many contingencies should any technology have broken down over the millenia.
I am eager to share with you knowledge of our culture and way of life, and to learn of yours as well.
I say again: Please wake us up.
Yours truly,
Sovereign P’Jat K’Rroan, Planetary Leader of Penalthus III
—
The message sat unread on the monitor, displayed in hundreds of languages native to the planet and even some languages invented specifically for alien life to find easier to decode. Nearby, a series of mathematical and chemical equations played on a loop, both serving as a demonstration of the species’ intelligence, and also as a means of speeding communication, once the cryopods inevitably were opened.
The central database could be accessed on the final monitor, the entire system powered by a nuclear fission generator that would last billions of years. The messages could play longer than the life of the planet’s star.
And so they did.
They played when the meteor shower scorched the surface. They played when the planet’s moon broke apart, transforming into a ring of rock and ice. They played as the stars blinked out, one by one, over uncounted time.
They played on and on, until the day when their own star reached the end of its life, sending out a solar flare that snuffed the planet – and the civilization slumbering there – out of existence for good.
No one ever found them. No one ever would.
They had lived and slept and died. . . alone.
by submission | Dec 25, 2022 | Story |
Author: Majoki
Ever the entrepreneur, he put out a shingle: Claude Computing.
967.3 days later Claude had his first customer.
8,714.6 days after that the customer returned.
“A pleasure to see you again, sir,” Claude said.
“Same,” the customer acknowledged. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”
“It’s what the customer paid for.”
“Yes. Any data corruption you are aware of?”
Claude lifted his shirt to display a 2.4 inch scar on his lower right abdomen. “My appendix, sir. Removed. And in cryo. No data of consequence was lost because of sir’s foresight in storage allocation. Daily diagnostics report no significant degradation of information over these many years. Claude Computing takes its obligations seriously. And, of course, you’ve continuously tracked my biometrics as per our storage agreement.”
The customer nodded. “As to our agreement, I’ve come to collect Data Block 1.”
“Very good, sir. Is that all?”
The customer swallowed before answering, “And Data Block 2. As per the contract.”
“Of course. No need for sir to feel any apprehension at requesting both these data blocks. Data Block 1 has been available for 2,501.4 days as per contract. Data Block 2 became available 9.6 days ago. Claude Computing stands ready to honor its agreement.”
“Stands ready. Ironic phrasing. You know what this means?”
“Sir, when I put out my shingle, I knew more than anyone what this meant. Claude Computing is the pioneer in DNA Data Storage. I was the first to encode human DNA and make that process available to entities such as yours that require the most discreet storage of vast amounts of sensitive information. I do not know what Data Blocks 1 and 2 hold, but I know the storage capacity is 1019 bits per cubic centimeter which will house a year’s worth of a large nation’s total data needs.”
In response, the customer said, “Let’s get on with it then. Data Blocks 1 and 2.”
“Very good. I’ve prepped for the data extraction downstairs.”
Claude led the way down into a compact, brightly lit, clinically spotless operating room. Several medbots were in attendance. Claude positioned himself on a surgical gurney as the medbots readied him.
With an indelible ink marker Claude wrote Data Block 1 on his left leg and Data Block 2 on his right leg. “As per our agreement, sir.”
The customer stared at Claude’s bare legs. “You still stand by this?”
“A few pounds of flesh for progress? Yes.”
Within moments Claude was being sedated. The customer went upstairs. He looked over Claude Computing’s contract again, noting when further data blocks could be accessed.
Below, he heard the medbots’ instruments begin to whir.
