by submission | May 3, 2020 | Story |
Author: Mark Wallace
Peter was on edge as he walked down the corridor to his apartment. It had been a routine day at work in the Public Communications Office, but on the walk home his nose had started to feel a little stuffy, and a sense of foreboding filled him.
His apartment door swung gently open as Peter approached. He paused in the red light that filled his doorway as the obligatory daily Notifiable Diseases Test was conducted. A new flu, Crescent Virus J, had just been declared notifiable. The light flashed green and he gave a sigh of relief and entered.
“Good evening, Peter,” came a disembodied voice, clear, clipped, and female.
“Evening, Ariel,” said Peter, flopping down on the sofa.
After a few seconds, the voice of Arial returned: “Would you like me to put on dinner?”
“No thanks, Ariel. I’m not hungry. Ask me again in an hour.”
“Sure, Peter.”
After a few more seconds of silence, Ariel spoke again: “Peter.”
“Yes.”
“Your blood pressure is a little high. Is everything ok?”
“Yes. Just a tough day at work.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“No, it’s fine. I just need some rest.”
“If you need to talk, I’m here. You know that everything you tell me will be in the strictest confidentiality. Nothing you tell me will ever be repeated, except to the proper authorities and then only when such disclosure is in the interests of the common good.”
“I know, Ariel, but I don’t need to talk about it. I just need to rest.”
“Sure, Peter.”
Peter closed his eyes and lay in silence for a few seconds, trying to calm himself and control his breathing. Then Ariel spoke: “Your heart rate is 15 bpm higher than normal at this time of evening.”
“Thanks, Ariel.”
“Would you like to take any action?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“I recommend the administration of SigmaGluc12 in this situation.”
“What is that?”
“It is a compound designed to work both on the bloodstream and in the neurons. It decreases blood pressure, heart rate, and the type of neuronal activity that has been shown to often contribute to these symptoms. If you like, I can show you a presentation from Dr. Cynthia Twisler of the National University on the workings of SigmaGluc12. She is the leading expert in the field.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll leave it. Give it a few minutes.”
“Ok, Peter,” said Ariel.
In the silence, Peter began to shift uneasily. After a few minutes, he said: “Ariel, did you send a report?”
“What report are you referring to?”
“About my heart rate or blood pressure. Just now.”
“All instances of uncharacteristically elevated hr and bp where the subject does not accept the prescription must be reported to the Ministry of the Common Good. Purely a standard measure.”
“What happens then?”
“The report is sent through the relevant channels in the Ministry.”
“Which channels?”
“If you like I can read you the relevant section of the Prevention of Harm Act which deals with this measure.”
“No, it’s ok,” said Peter. He knew that that long and impenetrable Act would not give an answer. He had edited part of it.
He didn’t know how much Ariel knew, or where her report had gone. His Notifiables Test had been green, but had it really? He fell into silence, and an uneasy sleep haunted by dreams of approaching sirens and knocks at the door. He remained dimly, troublingly conscious of slight nasal stuffiness.
by submission | May 2, 2020 | Story |
Author: Mark Renney
Davis misses the road. More accurately, he misses the discipline it has provided and he no longer expects it to re-appear. Davis isn’t searching for the road, in fact he believes that if he is to find the centre, to reach the point of impact, then it is necessary to leave it behind, abandon it and this hasn’t proved difficult. No roads have survived out on the plains.
But the evidence that they had once been prevalent is everywhere. Much of it is unused and un-useable – phones and tablets and other devices with screens. Many are broken, have been kicked about and stamped on but most are still intact, still in their original packaging.
Kneeling down, Davis grabs a phone. It is the one he had wanted but hadn’t been able to afford. He claws at the box, pulling away the clear plastic and holds the phone in his hand. He realises that this is the last model, that there won’t be another sleeker and faster and more desirable version. Davis pushes the green button and waits but nothing happens.
The roads are redundant and the idea of starting in one place and making for another, of heading toward a destination, is futile. Grudgingly Davis has to admit it is fitting the roads haven’t survived out on the plains. That they are no longer a part of this landscape, that the landscape has changed. It is even flatter than before, and even more barren, apart from the debris of course. And Davis realises that in order to get what they need he and the others will have to keep coming back and sifting through it.
Davis still misses the road. He considers creating one of his own by using the now useless or unnecessary things. He could build a kerb or a wall or even a bank, building on either side of him as he walks.
by submission | May 1, 2020 | Story |
Author: R. J. Erbacher
David rushed up in his period woolen tunic, out of breath. It had taken him forever to get there traveling by foot over the mountains into the Valley of Elah. He looked out over the two amassed armies, facing off at each other on the flat battlefield. As casually as he could he meandered down into the multitude of soldiers to the south, picked up a disregarded cloth bag of bread loaves, and started handing them out. A short time later the theatrics began.
On the opposing line of warriors, one stood up, towering above all the others, twice as tall as any other man with the girth of an ox. He was draped in shining armor and carried a shield and lance. David climbed upon a rock to get a better look.
The titan let forth with a booming voice that stung the ears of everyone that heard it. “Will anyone today, dare to come forward and challenge me to duel or will you all continue to stand there cowering like sheep in the fields!” Followed by his thunderous laughter.
When the echoes subsided David spoke out as loud as he could to the assembly, “This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I will strike you down, and I will give your dead body to the birds of the air and the beasts of the earth, and (blah, blah, blah…).”
David finished his soliloquy with as much verve as he could muster. It seemed to have worked as the throngs of soldiers behind him cheered and banged their weapons upon their shields. Though he doubted any of them gave him a snowball’s chance in hell of defeating the brute.
The behemoth strode forward and brazenly tossed his shield to the ground roaring with mirth as he looped his spear in spirals over his head. David clambered down off the rock and met him halfway on the trodden filed.
Reaching down into his pouch David felt the smooth metal orb. Keeping it concealed in his palm but positioning it so the micro-glass eye was between his fingers. He touched the button on top, emitting a momentary green laser beam that he positioned, unbeknownst, on the giant’s forehead. Then he rubbed his thumb along the axis, and he felt it hum into life. David dropped it into a canvas sling, spun it a few times to gather momentum then released it into the air. The projectile immediately started firing its dynamic thrusters steering it to its predetermined tracking and then it accelerated to a speed of 3,000 feet-per-second. It penetrated the thick cranium and immediately released the eruptive pneumatic air burst, turning the gray matter inside into liquid jelly.
Goliath collapsed in a ground-quaking faceplant.
The entire world was quiet for a few seconds. Then the Philistines commenced a mad scramble retreat in seven different directions abandoning swords, shields, and horses. Soon followed by whoops of joy as the Israelites charged after the fleeing horde.
David calmly strode up to the corpse, appropriated the monster’s heavy sword from its sheath, and lopped off the gargantuan head, dragging it back to one of the abandoned tents by the hair. Rooting around inside the gelatinous ooze his fingers finally came upon the plasma energy cell that was in all these alien’s skulls and unclipped it from its cable hub. He wiped it clean and examined it. Thankfully, it was undamaged. He would easily be able to jury-rig this to the engine, with plenty of power to jumpstart his ship and finally get him off this primitive, godforsaken planet.
by submission | Apr 27, 2020 | Story |
Author: Isaiah Stott
The ship drifted through the starry sky. Its engines long cold. The walls on the inside of the ship had been stripped, cables and mechanical parts littered the halls. The emergency lights on the floor flickered, as somewhere in the ship another generator failed.
A synthesized voice echoed through the ship. “You haven’t started your daily tasks yet. Are you feeling well Ensign? Shall I play the video again?”
All the operational screens showed a beautiful young woman. “Hi, honey. I imagine you are busy right now, So I decided to leave this message for when you have a bit of free time. Addie was asking about you again today. I keep telling her that her daddy is off on an adventure saving people from pirates and thieves.” A gleeful squeal rings out off-camera and Addie runs past the camera in an onesie holding a toy. “She really loves the gifts you sent her from the outer colonies. I know we talked about this, but I think once your contract is up you should transfer into the private sector.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “We miss you and hope you can make it home soon. We will be waiting.” She signed off with a smile.
“I know, I know. I’m almost home, Sam. I’m almost home.” The Ensigns voice thin and weary. His footsteps heavy and methodical as he moved around the ship.
“Ensign, another generator has failed, we are down to 32% power. Restoring the generator may not be possible this time. I had to turn off some auxiliary functions. Currently, life support, heating, water purification, nutrient reclamation, and the distress signal are functioning at maximum capacity. Should another generator fail, I will have to begin cutting those off.”
“How many days until we are in Federation Space?”
“28 days, 13 hours, 12 minutes, and 58 seconds. Be sure to do your daily exercise as well, you need to keep in top physical form.”
“Generator first don’t you think? If it is fixable, I’d like to get that up and running as soon as possible.”
“Good call, Ensign. I feel it has been a while since your last psych eval. How are you feeling today?”
Ensign picked up his toolbox and made his way through the skeletal remain of the ship. He could still see the bridge no matter where he was. “Did you remember today is Addie’s birthday? I hope she has made some friends. She won’t want a cake, she’ll want . . . a pie. Yeah, a blueberry pie. Sam will wake up early to make her one. It won’t turn out well at first, she was never very good at baking.”
He groaned quietly as he bent down to look at the generator. “She won’t give up though. She will keep trying until she gets it right. She will probably drop it off and have lunch with Addie.”
“Ensign, that does not answer my question.”
He looks up from the generator his beard rough but kept short, he runs his hand through his salt and peppered hair. More salt than pepper these days. His eyes gleaming. “Hopeful, I’m feeling hopeful.”
by submission | Apr 25, 2020 | Story |
Author: Ananya Bhatt
I heard the bell. It was time for science class. I took a computer chip out of my brain and put in my science class one. By the time I got to class, the information was downloaded. I was ready for my test.
My name is Ava Johnson. I am 14 years old, and because of my accident, I have aced every single test for almost the past year. When I was 13 years old, I got into an accident and almost died. My parents were given two choices- to save me by putting a robot/computer brain into me or let me die. They picked putting a computer in as my brain.
Later that day, we played basketball. Kate, the girl in front of me, was running about 6 miles per hour and dribbling the basketball every 0.62 seconds. But, she was getting close, and not slowing down. If I moved over, stole the ball at the exact time, and ran, I could score easily! When Kate came, I stole the ball and ran. As I was running, I calculated exactly when to jump and at what speed so that I could get high enough to dunk the ball. And I did it! “Let’s go! I made it!” I said. When I looked back though, I saw Kate on the ground. I thought, “Well, obviously if you were running at that speed and didn’t slow down, then tried to pivot, you were going to roll your ankle. Didn’t everybody know that?”
Kate looked like she was crying, but I had no idea how she felt because I didn’t remember crying. Her mom and friends came down from the bleachers and hugged her.
As I walked out, I saw another girl crying. I walked up to her. She sniffled, “My cousin died of cancer!” “Well, at least 10 to 16 million people die from cancer a year so the chances of your cousin living were pretty slim,” I said. But, this just made the girl cry even more. I really wondered what I had done wrong.
That night, I went to sleep. I saw a younger version of myself who looked about 9 to 10 years old. I had gone out with my mom to get ice cream. As we walked back to the car, I dropped my ice cream. I started crying, but it wasn’t just because of the ice cream. My mom and I would spend time together by going out for ice cream. However, we couldn’t afford it all the time, so when we got it, it was a treat. As I was crying, my mom came over and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her hug made me feel warm inside. As she let go of me, I was already feeling better.
When I woke up, I knew right away that eating ice cream was not good for you and could cause colds. I also knew that hugs and kisses were one of the best ways to spread germs. I knew it was a dream, but unlike most dreams, it didn’t go away. It stayed. It felt so real. It was like this had actually happened to me. But, the thing was, I had seemed so much happier and full of life. Back then, I had felt happier. I had been able to feel. After the accident, everyone told me I was very lucky to be alive. In a lot of ways, I could do a lot more than I could before, but, is this life truly better than before?
