by submission | Nov 15, 2019 | Story |
Author: Jeff Hayward
The fluorescent lights switched on flickering and humming – the clock on the wall read 6:00 AM. Patrick sat up in his bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He stood up unsteadily, using the steel sink to gain his balance. He shuffled the few steps to the toilet and did his business.
Once finished, he started on the rest of his morning routine – sink shower, brushing his teeth and then a few minutes of stretching and exercises. Years ago, he would spend hours exercising each day, but slowly over time his workouts had changed to support his aging body.
A loud buzz rang out and the bolts securing his cell door released. Patrick glanced at the door to see Officer Stanz through the small thick glass window. The thick steel door swung into the cell.
“One last brown bag, Patrick. Will you miss them?” asked the guard, grinning.
“Of course,” answered Patrick. He walked slowly across the 8 x 12 foot cell to retrieve the bagged meal – always a plain bologna sandwich and apple.
“I’ll be back to get you at 10:00 AM for the… the, uh…” the guard stammered.
“It’s ok, officer. I know. I’ll see you then.” Patrick replied.
At 10 AM, Officer Stanz returned to the cell. Patrick had been ready, sitting patiently at his small desk reading an old crime mystery by Raymond Chandler. He wasn’t going to finish the story in time, unfortunately.
The prison guard led Patrick down the hall towards the execution chamber. Inside, Patrick was strapped onto the padded chair in the center of the small room. A woman in a navy lab coat approached him. She held a tablet computer in one hand, and a small circular device in the other. She placed it on Patrick’s left temple and made a few taps on her tablet.
“Mr. Stephens – you were convicted in 2051 for 3 counts of first degree murder. Under the provisions set forth in the Criminal Deterrents Act of 2038, you were sentenced to 17 successive life sentences of seventy years or natural death, whichever occurs first. You have successfully completed your first sentence, and will now undergo temporal transference, your consciousness transmitted to your physical body in 2051 where you will begin your second term.” said the woman. “Do you have any questions?”
“No, ma’am.” said Patrick.
The woman tapped several times on her tablet, and Patrick suddenly felt a searing pain from his temple, his vision obscured by a blinding white light. After a few seconds, the pain was gone, and his vision returned.
A man in a navy lab coat standing beside him said, “Mr. Stephens. You have just completed temporal transference. It is May 3, 2051. The second term of your sentence has now begun.”
Patrick was led back down the hall to his cell by a tall prison guard with a thick mustache. The clock showed the time as 10:07. He looked at the name badge of this guard and remembered the man who would be his jailer for the next 7 or so years.
“Officer Thompson – could I request a book from the library? Farewell, My Lovely, by Raymond Chandler.” asked Patrick.
“I’ll check on it. Brown bag lunch will be delivered at 12.” said the guard, as he closed the cell door.
Patrick looked around his 8×12 foot cell, sighed, and then dropped to the floor and started on a set of push-ups.
by submission | Nov 14, 2019 | Story |
Author: James A Brown III
“Well, I guess it’s time to head out.”
“Where to?”
“Grandagar.”
Sri tapped some keys behind the bar and read the display, his face glowed a deep reflected red then blue as he worked down the list of ingredients.
“That’s going to be a thousand credits.”
“Sure thing.”
Sri began to mix the blend, bright fluids moved through hoses, and into the glass in front of him.
“What’s there?” Sri asked.
“Interview.”
“Really? Got a good shot at it?”
“Yeah. I’m one of the few who can not only speak Zeln, but I’ve got months on a Piccadilly Decruster. The giants are paying massive for someone to help clean them up after an incursion.”
“Nice.”
Sri finished the glass, but moved it out of sight as he placed another, and started filling it, his customer not noticing.
“How long is the job?”
“Forever if you want. They have a solid immortality package as well as some pretty sweet enhancements, all paid for. Stick it out for a couple hundred years and you could probably buy a fringe planet outright.”
“Wow. That’s amazing,” said Sri. “Congrats, man. By the way, do you know a Constance on Praelen Sil?”
“I don’t know anyone there. Too crowded. Heard it can take days to get there due to the backup. No cocktail can get around it either.”
“Okay, just wondering. You kind of looked familiar and my implant thought maybe you knew her. Okay, your drink is ready. Best of luck to you.”
“Thanks.”
Sri’s customer took the drink down in one large gulp.
“Hey, wait a sec. That doesn’t taste like a Grandagar mix. That tastes more like Prae…”
The customer faded away, his scream of frustration fading out before anyone else could hear it. Sri smiled.
“Yeah, sorry man. By the time you pop in at Praelen Sil, I’ll be settled and the giants won’t care about what happened here. Besides, I have years on those Decrusters. I’m more qualified.”
Sri jotted down a notice ending his employment, took off his apron and tossed it on the bar. He downed the drink he had set aside and smiling, set the note on the apron before fading away.
by submission | Nov 13, 2019 | Story |
Author: Ken Carlson
“Hello and welcome to Burger King. How may I help you,” said the disembodied out of the drive-through speaker in a dark parking lot off Interstate 5, Tacoma.
The voice belonged to Chad Stearns, 16 years old, 120 pounds and already drained of hope.
He mumbled to himself, off-mic. “Maybe to kiss my…”
“Chad!” Elizabeth Huckley crowed from the French fry station. Elizabeth was the miserable night manager. The two of them were the only ones to show up tonight.
“Sorry, just joking,” he said.
Elizabeth bellowed, “One more word and you’ll be out of a job!”
This sucked, but it wasn’t home where his drunken old man, the pontificator about the importance of hard work and a job well done loved smacking him around. Now Chad was out earning a few bucks, which Dad would skim to buy more booze.
Chad finally heard something from the drive-thru.“We are here,” a mechanical voice responded. Chad checked the monitor and spied a beaten-up black van, idling with its headlights off.
The voice returned. “Does this electric board feature all your establishment sells?”
“It’s called a menu, sir,” Chad said. “How about a Junior Whopper, some fries, and a shake?”
“We are hungry. The menu will be fine.”
“You want everything on the menu? That’s gonna take a while,” Chad laughed.
“Fine,” the voice said, “We’ll take all that you can. We are hungry.”
The van pulled up. Chad saw the dark interior, yet he knew someone was there. He was handed a wad of cash, thousands, just not with an actual hand, more of a disembodied force.
“Elizabeth! We have an order for everything we’ve got!”
She waddled up to Chad, “If this is your idea of a joke, Chad, I’ll…”
She saw the cash and looked out to the van. She grabbed the cash, put it in the register and got to work.
In an hour, the food was ready. Everything the two of them could prepare and bag in that time was done. The food was handed off. Chad and Elizabeth were exhausted. The van drove away.
“Chad, you’ll be punished for what you said earlier,” said a sweaty Elizabeth. “I’m going home. You have clean-up tonight. The grill, the trash bins. It will be off the clock and you will be here tomorrow at 6 am when Brian opens.”
Chad stared at the mess from the biggest night this store ever saw. Elizabeth returned to the overly stuffed register, pulled out several bills and stuffing them into her purse.
The van returned to the drive-thru, dark as midnight when you die.
Chad leaned out the window and said, “Welcome to Burger King. How may I help you.”
“We are still hungry,” said the van voice, “for something nice and fat.” More dollars were thrust at Chad, more than he could make in a month at this joint, maybe a year.
Chad nodded. The breeze blowing his brown hair poking out from under his BK cap.
“Liz, there’s a customer here that wants to speak to the manager.”
She shoved him out of the way, stomping back to the drive-thru station.
“Hello and welcome to Burger King,” she said. “How may I help…”
Her screams were muffled as her body was lifted through the courtesy window into the waiting van. Chad heard a crunching sound, but he was probably mistaken. He made his way to the back door, set the alarm, and locked up; ending a long day with a satisfied customer, the mark of a job well done.
by submission | Nov 10, 2019 | Story |
Author: R. J. Erbacher
The incongruence of this bridge’s construction boggled Samm’s mind. Using her ship to cut, haul and position logs, if they could be called that, when they should be using carbon graphene girders. This planet didn’t have traditional trees but tall branchless cylindrical shafts that were nearly as hard as cement and reached above the layer of toxic surface mist where they sprouted a myriad of delicate flowers that absorbed fresh moisture and starlight. They were too hard to cut, and their roots went on for freaking ever into the moist soil of the lower terrain. A couple of shots from the blast cannon could snap them and if carefully caught, because if they fell into the murk below you would never recover them, hauled into place. There they were strapped together by her team on the ground using long ropey strands of some seemingly purposeless vine that cover the cliff face of the mountains were all these special quadrupeds lived.
That was the other thing that annoyed Samm. Her production company was sent here to relocate this tribe of highly developed beings without airlifting them. For lack of an easier word, they were called ‘Horses;’ she couldn’t remember their scientific name. Long full-bodied manes of hair shrouded a four-legged creature with hoof/hands ending in octopi tentacles. Their feelers had a chemical connection with the soil. The collective occurrences of the planet including knowledge, energy, emotion, and sustenance were transmitted from the natural surroundings straight through into their appendages. They were essentially a moving manifestation of their world.
But their intelligence factor was so phenomenal that human specialists had to create new charts to try and categorize their brainpower. All members of their breed could do remarkable swerve mathematical calculations. Straight math any handheld computer could handle but these creatures, in their head, manipulated formula’s around the time/space continuum that the smartest scientist on earth couldn’t even understand. But it was working. And its applications were allowing unprecedented vehicle engineering and travel throughout the universe. Yet their feet could not leave the soil of this planet. They literally would not jump to save their own life. One part of their anatomy always had to be in contact with the surface or they would instantly go into an unsurvivable seizure. So, you couldn’t just transport them to safety which would have taken all of ten minutes.
A millennium ago what was left of the Horses’ population migrated out of the lowlands that had become poisonous and settled in the undebased rocky upper hills. In the last thousand years, an erosion crevasse opened isolating them from the rest of the expansive region. Yet they managed to live comfortably in their limited surroundings, regulating their population. They didn’t need nutrients or water as they absorbed it from the ground. But now their little piece of home was continuing to crumble, and the slippage was precarious. The research people that were working with the Horses contacted earth and told them that the plateau they lived on was falling off the side of a mountain. The government contracted her company and sent her to find a way to move them to safety. The only way to save them was to get them to the more stable center of the continent, traveling only on items that were indigenous to the planet, like a home-grown bridge made of trees and twigs, that they could traverse.
So, she had to construct a primitive annihilation-preventing conduit so humans could ride the brains of an extraterrestrial species into the exploration of the cosmos. And Samm thought figuring out her mother-in-law was confusing.
by submission | Nov 9, 2019 | Story |
Author: Glenn Leung
‘Activate Neuro-Computer link.’
I concentrated on the implants in my brain as I thought those words. I immediately got a sense that I knew more than I used to, and I mentally scanned for knowledge of the ship’s map. Having it in my head would not help me see in the dark, though it would fill my consciousness with annoying foreign thoughts. Normally I would have just told the main computer to turn the emergency power back on, but the aliens destroyed the relay.
‘Move ten meters forward and make a left.’
Imagine following somebody else’s instructions while moving through a maze blindfolded. By my estimates, I had about ten minutes before the ship sank to crush depth. If I had not destroyed my flashlight in the fight, that would have been plenty of time. It was too late for regrets now. All I could do was take rapid three-quarter steps, back bent and arms outstretched for the inevitable mishap.
I nearly fell over something soft as I made the left. A quick feel told me it was human, one of my shipmates killed in combat. There was a sickly warm patch which corroborated the smell. Just as I was about to throw up, I heard a ghostly moan. The shock made me swallow everything that was on its way out.
‘All in the mind,’ I composed myself.
Bonnet had warned me this might happen. Linking with the ship’s network while deprived of the senses could cause very vivid hallucinations, amplified by the combined computing power of the brain and the ship’s computers. Filtering out scary thoughts was difficult when the deadly battle was still fresh in my memory. Screaming ghosts of shipmates were not helping with the grotesque tripping hazards. At least some of those ghosts pointed me in the right direction, saving me precious time.
It would have been better if they had flashlights.
At long last, I arrived at the stairs leading to the emergency generator. I had never imagined that the sight of that old rickety thing would bring me so much joy.
I then realized I could see the stairs.
At first, I thought someone else had turned on the emergency power, but the ship’s engine was still silent. Were my brain and the ship’s computers working together to create an accurate projection? Maybe there is a separate generator for the engine room’s lights, just as there are for the computers and everything else. My excitement was dashed when I saw one of the aliens waiting for me at the top, its proboscis twitching in anticipation of my flesh. Did we not kill them all?
I had to assume it was not a hallucination. I pulled out my pistol and started shooting. Sure enough, blue blood sputtered from its head as it let out a piercing shriek. It fell down the stairs, splattering its goo across the guard rails.
‘Emergency power activated. Returning to surface.’
The shock of the sudden thought was an extra kick to my already frenetic heart. I would have shot at the figure that appeared at the top of the stairs had it not let out a very human cry.
“Sergeant! Stand down immediately! You just shot the Captain!”
Bonnet’s shouts awoke something within me. I looked at where the alien had fallen and saw the mangled body of the Captain. My head grew impossibly heavy and my vision went dim as I struggled to make a coherent deactivation command. I remember seeing Bonnet running down the stairs before all went dark again.
