by submission | Oct 28, 2022 | Story |
Author: Huascar Robles
Old Lady Pérez shouted one simple instruction: “You need to gulp it down. Todita la limonada.” Her command was an energy that traveled across Pedro’s skin, each pore. “I have seen the lemonade stand; it’s pink,” he whispered. Old Lady Pérez stretched her neck and through her only eye repeated: “If you want to save the Earth child, drink the lemonade.”
Pedro did not have a choice. His constant headaches were reminders of the nightmares. The distressed Earth child. The storm. Príncipe M.’s claw around the child’s throat.
He whistled for his beloved chupacabra, Perico. They flew over the Buenaventura sky, and landed on the lemonade stand guarded by los enanitos verdes, the most musical all of Buenaventura’s elves. “Quick, enanitos, serve us two tall glasses.” The elves complied. Pedro and Perico felt the fluid begin to transform them. Pedro’s body grew protrusions he’d never seen. He giggled. As with all temporal transfigurations, this one occurred to the beat of bomba and plena.
They reappeared in the unknown universe Pedro saw in his nightmares. As they stood in the backyard of the Earth home, an unfamiliar feeling overcame Pedro. He saw his naked body and rushed to cover it with items dangling from a birdbath. The sky darkened and bits of hail and bones rained over them. “Príncipe M. is here,” Pedro muttered. He instructed his chupacabra to stand guard. “Remember what to do, Perico!”
Pedro entered through the back door. He had memorized the interior of this home from his dreams. Second floor, third door to the right, that’s where the Earth child was. Pedro kicked the door open and before him stood Príncipe M., his claws gripping the Earth child’s throat.
Outside of the house, Perico let out a screeching bellow, the call to the Fairy God. The storm clouds ripped and a fountain of fairies flowed like pink lemonade unto the Earth. The Fairy God descended and sang “Yeh, estoy subiendo como espuma. Yes, I am flowing like bubbles,” over a syncopated trap melody.
Pedro’s eyes widened when he saw the Fairy God rise like foam behind Príncipe M. The volume of the song increased, debilitating the dark prince’s grip on the Earth child. The Fairy God pushed his hand through the window and seized the prince by his neck. In a synthesized, harmonic voice, he uttered the following words: “This is for all the boys in dresses.”
The clouds dissipated. The Fairy God kissed both Pedro and the Earth child on their cheeks. The fountain fairies left a rainbow trail as they returned to Buenaventura. Pedro and the Earth child embraced one more time by the birdbath.
For many years, the pair traveled between Earth and Buenaventura, bridging both universes with their undying bond. Many, many years later, Pedro, now a father of a beautiful Earth child of his own, took a stroll by the old lemonade stand. Perico strode by his side. He glanced at his child and said: “I have a story to tell you, but you have to listen to my voice, the sounds, the colors, this is the only way to travel between worlds, between universes and between bodies.
‘One upon a time, there was a magical boy who fell in love with an Earth child.’”
by submission | Oct 27, 2022 | Story |
Author: A.J. Glen
How long had they been here? There was no way to tell. After the ship, their suits and all their equipment had dissolved away, it became impossible to know what Standard Time it was. Attempts to mark the passage of time using their environment were fruitless – the native rock was composed of an ultra-hard diamond-like material, and the strange foliage that grew out the cracks was equally impossible to break or manipulate with human hands. They resorted to scratching tallies into their skin with their nails, until they realised that the skin would unnaturally and perfectly heal – presumably supported by the same mysterious force that removed their need to eat or drink.
At first their minds could take it. Unburdened with the immediate material concerns of survival, they wandered naked and free over the uniform, universally temperate landscape. Days passed with long, often playful conversations and socialising as they waited in comfort for their eventual rescue.
The Chaplain cheerfully announced he intended to use the situation as an opportunity for deep spiritual meditation. He began his meditation and we discovered that he had become impossible to wake. On discovering this, the Psychologist postulated that his mind was now irretrievably lost without the context of bodily needs anchoring him to reality. In a way, he had escaped. We wish he had taught us how to meditate first.
Time passed, or we presumed it did. The unchanging environment, our unchanging bodies, unable to alter ourselves or our surroundings. We had nothing more to say, or do with each other. Existence no longer rushed forwards to meet reality as comparisons, desires, fears, jealousies, impressions and perceptions became muted.
A discovery was made. A sharp shard of rock was found which had somehow come loose from the landscape. An almost forgotten ‘feeling’ was experienced, that of Hope. Perhaps this could be used to cut the foliage, and make a small start on some kind of civilization. Hope turned to another half-remembered feeling, Disappointment, as it was realised that the shard was not sharp enough to cut the plants. However, it could be used to cut the body deep enough to do serious damage before the healing energy began to work. Several of the crew used the shard to kill themselves in various ways before it was realised that they would wake some time later, completely healed. The trauma of this experience had an interesting effect. When they woke, they screamed at us, saying things like:
‘Why am I still here!’ and,
‘I just want to be human again, to be me!’
But we know better. Being reminded of our situation only causes us pain. Pain brings us back into time, back into existence, back into our nightmare. So when they awoke, those who killed themselves were held down and restrained. After what must have been many years of restraint, they merged with us. Now, no one uses the shard because it is better to be together. It is better to fly as one towards the moment when the unnatural sun above us eventually goes supernova, destroys this cursed planet and ends this terrible consciousness.
by submission | Oct 26, 2022 | Story |
Author: Phil Temples
I see them on the street corner again today. They’re an eclectic assembly of men and women. I count thirty-seven of them. While some are in their twenties and accompanied by young children, the majority are older—in their sixties and seventies. They’re part of a religious cult who believe that the world will come to an end in roughly sixteen months’ time. They are being led down the primrose path by a handsome, well-spoken young man who promises them a bounty of riches and eternal pleasures in the afterlife in exchange for recruiting more like-minded followers to promote his narrative. No doubt they’ve drained savings accounts and given their worldly possessions to this charismatic leader.
I’m not from this world—or even this time period—yet I still feel sorry for them. I cross the street and walk up to the nearest sign-carrier and ask, “May I?” I reach out and take the sign from her hands. Then I withdraw my pen and cross out the date on the sign and replace it with the actual date of destruction––5,041 years from now.
I hand back her sign and go about my business, leaving a collection of puzzled looks in my wake.
by submission | Oct 25, 2022 | Story |
Author: Majoki
“Follow your nose. Trust your instincts. What bullshit. Might as well say a bedtime prayer cause that’s all you’re doing when you go with your gut.” Traisa took a swig and set her highball glass down.
“It’s worked so far,” Darte said, glowering at Traisa’s cocktail.
“That’s because, so far, the competition has been sorely limited. We’ve been competing against ants and termites. Not anymore. And the suits that oversee the lab and all our work don’t get it. ” She reached for her drink, but suddenly pulled her hand back. “You get it. I know you get it, Darte. You must get it.”
“They’re bots, Traisa. Simbots. They can’t evolve. They can’t get smarter. They’re too simple.”
She reached for her drink again. Stopped herself again. “They don’t have to evolve. Simple is smart—when the numbers get big enough. Simple machines following simple rules can ultimately make highly intelligent decisions.”
“Swarm behavior does not mean hive intelligence,” Darte argued. “Simbots do not have a collective conscious. They’re not instinctual.”
“Of course not. I’m not arguing a divinely innate ability. Simbots are coded. Just like we are genetically coded.” Traisa stared at her drink. Stared hard. “It’s all a fixed action pattern. All this crap we call life, the sham we call free will. It’s hard wired. Just like the simbots. We’ve got to figure out the pattern before they do.”
Darte shook his head, reached for her drink. She slapped his hand away.
“You’re the one with an action pattern problem, Traisa. And you need to fix it!” He stood up.
Before Darte could go, Traisa raised her drink to him. “The game from here on out is tic-tac-toe, not chess. So, here’s to three in a row.”
She downed her drink. Then went to the bar and ordered two more.
by submission | Oct 23, 2022 | Story |
Author: David Barber
Kuiper-23917 tumbled lazily alongside the Ada Swann.
The conglomeration of dirty ice was on the small side, and worse, the market price was at an all-time low. When Perry was last on Vesta, folk were saying the Ice Rush was over.
She still had one throwaway booster left. Sensors scanned the stars for a fix, and software fired thrusters to keep the ice on track as it fell sunwards. All she needed was a buyer to collect six months from now.
Comms traffic was sparse out here, but there was that voice again, fading in and out. She fiddled with the settings.
“.… nav failed and life support went sour a week ago. Repeat. Wolf Moon calling Ada Swann…”
Perry looked up Wolf Moon. It was an old Lunar Industries craft. Crew of two. Ceres registry. L. Chekov, owner.
His voice was tinny over the speaker. Name was Lev, he explaind. His brother Yuri wasn’t doing too well.
“You got space for us?” he ventured.
The Ada Swan was a roomy six-berth. “There’s just Ada and me,” Perry answered after a pause.
Lev and Yuri exchanged looks. Had she been alone it would have been easy to surprise her.
“She’s running solo,” Yuri insisted.
“Ship’s named Ada. She’s just being cute.”
Lev shook his head at his brother..
“What if you’re wrong, and this Ada sends out a broadcast? No, we get aboard and wait our chance, right?”
“Alright,” muttered his brother.
“And why don’t we use that stupid gun of yours?”
Yuri said nothing.
“Because it needs to look like an accident. We want a nice legal salvage claim.” He glanced around at his ship. “There’s no future in this now.”
“Been having trouble with my main lock,” Perry radioed when the Wolf Moon drew close. “But I’ll open the hanger door.”
When the Ada Swann was shiny new, it boasted a runabout kept in a hanger off Engineering.
Lev pictured the Spacer meeting them. If she wasn’t in a suit, they’d just bundle her out the air lock and make it look like a faulty suit afterwards.
They were waiting for the hanger to repressurise when there was a thump from the hatch into Engineering.
“Sorry,” said Perry. “But that’s you locked in. You get cautious when you fly solo.” She didn’t sound sorry.
“See,” hissed Yuri.
“Just sit tight while I check out your story.”
Yuri began banging on the hatch.
Lev shrugged inside his suit. “She’ll have to let us go sometime, and later it’ll just be her word against ours.”
Wolf Moon smelled funny, and was grubbier and more cramped than Perry was used to, but life support was fine and every control panel was green. She’d felt there was something off about these two.
“Opening the hanger door now,” Perry said.
“There’s been a misunderstanding—” began Lev smoothly.
“Get back to your ship before I light up my drive.”
Lev grinned ruefully to himself. Some you win…
“See the throwaway booster?” said Perry, once the brothers had launched themselves back towards their ship.
She’d fixed her last booster to Wolf Moon, programmed to nudge the ship towards a rendezvous with Ceres in five months’ time.
“Best leave it alone,” she advised. “I took some of your motherboards, so that’s the only drive you’ve got that works now.”
She told them they’d get the chance to turn themselves in before she contacted Ceres Law. Then she switched off comms. No call for language like that.
It looked like she wouldn’t break even this trip either. There was no profit being honest these days.
