by submission | Mar 3, 2022 | Story |
Author: J.D. Rice
The end, it seems, is nigh.
I stare at the billboard strapped over the old man’s chest, telling me to repent of my sins before the apocalypse comes. Crudely written scripture verses surround big, bold letters saying “REPENT!”
I haven’t been to church since I was seven. I couldn’t tell you what any of the verses were in reference to, nor could I say with certainty that any of the books listed are even in the Bible. Mostly I’m just shocked that anyone actually has access to one of these signs in this day and age, and that anyone would take the time to patrol the streets the day before the asteroid hits.
“Repent!” he says. As if humanity has anything to repent for.
We’ve come so far in the last 100 years. Poverty is gone. Hunger, war, and disease have all been eradicated. People still die of chronic conditions, genetic defects, even some rare outbreaks of personal violence. But plague? Crime? These are things of the past.
Technology has progressed in leaps and bounds. Philosophy and experience has taught us how to use this technology for the good of all. The Earth is unified in a way that our ancestors never would have thought possible. Borders are a formality, and racism is confined to only the darkest corners of the world. After tens of thousands of years of struggle and hardship, mankind has finally come into its own. United and strong.
Now one rogue asteroid, set on its course for earth thousands of years ago, is going to end it all. And all this man can think to say is, “Repent!”
I glance down at the bag in my hand, filled with food my wife is going to use to prepare a last meal for our family. My son and daughter don’t fully understand what is happening. We haven’t had the heart to explain it to them. Better for them to die in a flash than sit quietly pondering their own mortality. We’re going to give them one last night of joy, tuck them in for the night, and then pray that death finds us before they wake up the next morning.
Now, instead of walking the rest of the way home, I stare at the man across the street, my blood boiling. How dare he stand in judgment? What moral superiority could he possibly have to justify his actions? What sins does he suppose we committed to deserve this?
He’s just a blind, stupid fool unable to cope with the inevitable.
I step up to him, wanting to tell him off, wanting to yell and scream and tell him that his God never did anything for the world but plunge it deeper into the darkness.
But then – quite of their own accord – my lips starts forming words that lack any of the venom and vitriol my id so desperately wants to unleash.
“I know you are scared,” I say, looking into the man’s eyes, which I see – now that I am up close – are on the brink of tears. “I don’t know why you are out here. Maybe your religion is all you had growing up. Maybe you’re clinging desperately to anything that might give you a glimmer of hope. Or maybe you’re just lonely.”
The man lets out a deep exhale, the tears welling up in his eyes.
“You aren’t alone,” I say. “You have me.”
My bag of groceries falls to the ground as the man unexpectedly hugs me, the flimsy billboard bending between our bodies. We hold the hug for some moments, unspoken emotions washing between us, before finally breaking.
In the end, he joins my family for dinner and sleeps peacefully on our couch as my wife and I wait for the end. We face the catastrophe in the same way mankind has learned to face all its challenges.
Together.
by submission | Mar 2, 2022 | Story |
Author: Chana Kohl
In the smallest nook of my consciousness, there is a tiny computer that tabulates risk vs. reward. It guides my decisions at any given moment. The ‘reward’ is clear, like a B-roll on a constant loop inside my mind. A split-level cabin built with my own two hands, it sits off-the-grid with a wrap-around deck overlooking a pristine lake in Somewhere, Alaska. Lana is there, working in the greenhouse, fretting over stink bugs on her heirloom tomatoes. Sometimes, when I’m feeling bored, I even throw in a little crumb-snatcher or two. What the hell.
Then, there’s the ‘risk’ side of the equation.
I’m not talking about the burst of adrenaline before launch, carrying payloads at hypersonic speed in a cat and mouse game of catch-and-release. Or the knot in my belly, inching past my throat, as I near Mach 12.
No. I’m talking about the risk from not taking these jumps…
Same as every other Joe, I was up to my pacifier in debt the day I was born, a 2nd-generation Red-Ledger. With what remained after The War, many of the few left in charge agreed—as part of sweeping fiscal reforms—to eradicate government-funded education. Now, a kid’s best shot in life today is a private teacher, if their parents can afford, after that, e-tutoring vouchers or, if that’s not feasible, taking out crypto-loans at the age of six to attend a proper brick and mortar school.
By the time I was sixteen, I was eager and ripe to earn off my family’s debt working construction for the United Republic. Eventually I worked my way onto the Skyhook team, piloting hybrid scramjets like a flying trapeze artist to transfer the consortium’s precious cargo into high orbit. I made just enough will-o’-the-wisp crypto that I could actually dream of retirement.
Now, if all goes as planned, today’s my last jump. My body can’t take these gravitational stresses forever. At least I’m spared from excessive radiation exposure, unlike the poor saps earning their supper on the Ring. Lana’s a worrier though: made me freeze some of the boys just for contingency.
Receiving an all-clear from Space Force Command, I have ample time to make the rendezvous window for Tether Facility 6. Approaching Mach 7, my orbital altitude and flight angle matching tether rotation rate and phase, I switch to jet propulsion. Coming in for the soft dock I can almost smell the breeze from Denali Mountain and savor the scent of Lana’s marinara simmering on the stove, but I get a warning light. Some problem with the hawser cable.
No big deal, I’ll miss the soft dock window. It’s happened before. I release the mechanical arm, angling to maneuver a hard dock. The payload transfers successfully, but the clamps don’t release. I get an alert from ground control to scrap the jump, the facility is losing too much altitude. The payload starts to tumble.
My tiny computer boots up, powered by fear. The amount of credits the consortium will surely subtract from the no-damage/no-loss payload clause in my contract will set me back eighteen months; even that’s no guarantee.
No way I’m going to abort.
So I punch the thrusters and drag that SOB payload up earth’s magnetic field like Santiago’s Marlin. I burn the last of my methalox reserve, pushing it back on its trajectory. Too far up for rescue ops—the consortium’s not known for wasting fuel—I relish the view of Alaska. Buoyed in the strange sensation of weightlessness, I transfer my last credits and death benefits to Lana.
Catch and release: I’m finally free.
by submission | Mar 1, 2022 | Story |
Author: Alan J Wahnefried
Shurkarr was excited and little scared. He was waiting for the results of his driving test. Finally, the Examiner called his name.
The Examiner offered Shurkarr a seat. Shurkarr could barely keep himself in the chair.
“In cases like this I find it best to give the result before we analyze your driving. You failed.”, the Examiner began.
Shurkarr was stunned. He thought he had nailed. “How can that be?”, he stammered.
The Examiner sighed. “You did a good job with the maneuvers. You missed something bigger. Let’s take it a step at a time. The first step on the test gave you a heading and you were to follow it at a set speed. Right?”. Shurkarr concurred. The Examiner queried, “What did you do?”
Shurkarr gulped. “I went slower. I was trying to show I was not a reckless driver.”
The Examiner must have heard that before. He sighed and continued, “What was the second step on the test?”
“When I reached Luna, I was to turn to my right.” Shurkarr answered.
“The instructions were based on the speed you were given. If you had driven at the specified speed, a right would have turned you outside Luna’s orbit. Luna is not stationary. By the time you reached Luna, a right turned you inside Luna’s orbit. What was the first thing you were taught in driver’s education?”, the Examiner intoned.
“If you are inside Luna’s orbit, get outside Luna’s orbit immediately!”
“Correct. Why didn’t you do that?”, queried the Examiner.
“I was just trying to follow the test directions.”, Shurkarr said sheepishly.
“Not good enough! You always must follow the instructions concerning Luna’s orbit. You could have asked for help and still passed. Continuing with your test. The next step was to stop and turn on your emergency beacon. You realize starting the beacon turns off your stealth shield?”
Shurkarr wanted into crawl under the woodwork. “Yes.”, he whispered.
“Due to your wrong turn. Your beacon was clearly visible on Earth. If we are to keep our base here on Venus secret, we can’t have mistakes like that! Fortunately, the balance of the maneuvers on the test got you behind Luna and out of sight. You fail. You can try again in 2 vesuvian days.”
Shurkarr was crushed. He made a mistake. What was the big deal? It was night on Earth. He doubted anyone even noticed.
Meanwhile on planet Earth. The lead story in the Maple Stump Idaho’s morning paper was “Red Flashing Orb Buzzes Maple Stump”. The story related the police and newspapers phones were deluged by panicky people….
On television, the first story on Idaho Today was “Police Work to Clear Numerous Vehicle Accidents”. Over 300 vehicles stopped on I-80 south of Boise. People were mesmerized by a flashing red orb in the sky. Multiple collisions were reported. Fortunately, no one was killed or seriously injured…
The US Space Force issued a statement om the orb seen over Idaho. The orb had been tracked until it went behind the moon. The investigation is continuing ….
Dr. Thurston Stahlschiff called his agent. He wanted his publisher to know his book the Imminent Alien Invasion would be postponed another month. He had to investigate the orb that was sighted over Idaho.
Several radio preachers tried to have a field day on the orb, with varying results.
UFO tourists started flocking to Maple Stump, Idaho. The motel owners were happy.
Shurkarr was right. Nobody noticed. The Examiner had a no reason to be upset.
by submission | Feb 27, 2022 | Story |
Author: Dave Ludford
Molly sat on the brow of the steep hill smiling expansively into the hazy distance as the light from the artificial sun gradually faded.
“I wish these days could last forever. The view from here is just breathtakingly beautiful,” she said to the inert figure lying beside her.
“Me too, Moll. Me too,” Jud replied. “We should just enjoy them while we can, I guess.”
“But it’s so unfair,” Molly continued, her brow creasing in consternation, her voice much louder. “How come they get to decide who lives and who dies? We didn’t even put up any form of resistance. We just totally capitulated and it was done and dusted within hours.”
“They get to choose because they won, ergo we lost. The humans have a saying, ‘To the victor, the spoils.’ Something like that. The virulent plague that attacked us was just too overwhelmingly powerful. Besides, we’re humanoid AI who aren’t configured for any form of conflict or violence. There was absolutely nothing we could do, you know that.”
“But there must be something…oh, what’s the use? We’re…”
“Exactly. We’re doomed anyway. These bugs think they’ve won a significant victory here and are now in a position to rule this world. But we’ve been abandoned, left to rot on a dying planet by the consortium of human billionaires who quickly got bored with the new toys they’d created and the seemingly idyllic playground they dumped us in. We’re dying, Moll, all of our crude life support systems are failing daily and we haven’t the wherewithal to repair them without assistance, and we both know that’s not going to happen.”
Molly began to chuckle softly. “Jud, what do you think the bugs’ reaction will be when they discover…you know…that this place isn’t at all what it seems. All that effort and the resources they’ve wasted on this glorified theme park. For them it’s been a pyrrhic victory.”
“May not be the first time it’s happened to them. I guess there’s a speculative element to these things. They’ll just write it off as a bad job, get the hell out and go someplace else where they may get lucky.”
“Perhaps…” She was silent for a short while, then added: “Why do you think our human masters got bored with us? Why go to the vast expense they did just to dump us and forget us?”
“I don’t know, Moll. Any number of reasons. Perhaps they got fed up with playing God and like the bug invaders will just move on to other things. All I know is that we’re slowly but surely dying, and soon it’ll all be over for us.”
“What an absolute waste.” A slight pause then: “Jud, what about us? You know…”
“We’ll look after each other until the time comes…there’s no script, we’ll just have to deal with the situation as it happens. Whichever of us goes first will do what’s necessary for the other.”
“It would be good if we went together.”
“Unlikely, but yes, I’d prefer it that way too.”
***
Several days pass before the first of the invader’s ships roars away from the planet as the light begins to swiftly fade once more and another long night yawns like a void ahead of him. Jud tenderly holds Molly’s lifeless body in his arms and watches in silence as several other ships begin their departure routines, suspecting he’s the only one of his kind left alive on that ill-fated world.
by submission | Feb 26, 2022 | Story |
Author: Burgess Speed
He wasn’t sure when it had happened. It could have been the night before while everyone was sleeping.
It could have been that morning when no one was looking.
Or maybe it was accomplished by imperceptible means right under the noses of everyone.
There was one thing, however, of which the boy was certain—his father had been replaced.
Oh, he looked the same all right, and sounded the same. But the boy knew it wasn’t him.
All day he waited for something terrible to happen. For some awful revelation of alien or demonic identity.
But nothing did.
The next day, his mother was replaced.
The day after, his entire family.
Following that, everyone he knew was replaced.
He tried not to let on that he noticed.
Then, one morning, he awoke to discover that everyone was exactly who they were supposed to be.
