by submission | Aug 6, 2017 | Story |
Author : Rollin T. Gentry
Ever since the drone dropped Arnold off on the balcony, his language had been atrocious. He continually dropped the F-bomb, the D-bomb, and the S-bomb, not to mention both C-words and the recently coined Z-word. Mary Ann jacked the children into VR while she tried to deal with the situation.
She knew that she was partially to blame. She should have stopped Arnold from getting the implant. But all the partners at his firm had implants, and Arnold had no hope of making partner without one.
She rushed to the wall in the kitchen and pushed the white button with the red cross.
The hologram appeared in the living room: a doctor in a white coat. He looked down at Arnold, sitting in his favorite chair, swearing at some daytime drama.
“This is a rare side effect,” the doctor said. “One in a million odds. A drone should be here momentarily. Arnold, is it?” Mary Ann nodded. “Arnold hasn’t been physically aggressive has he?”
“Oh, no,” she shook her head, “just the foul language.”
“That’s good. No need for tranquilizers and all.”
A gleaming white drone hovered over the balcony with a man-sized basket hanging below its sturdy frame. Once Arnold was strapped in, the drone lifted off and disappeared behind a nearby high-rise.
“Mrs. Dalton, I’ll contact you when I have more information about Arnold’s condition.” The doctor flickered twice then disappeared.
Mary Ann heard nothing for three weeks.
The only sign that Arnold might still be alive was the regular deposit of his paychecks into their bank account. Then finally, news came. Not in the form of a doctor, but a man in a navy blue suit and striped tie. His hologram appeared without warning.
“Mrs. Dalton?”
“Yes?” Who was this man? Why no doctor? She wondered.
“Mrs. Dalton, my name in Clayton Peters. I’m the attorney who represented you and your husband in the lawsuit against the company who manufactured your husband’s implant. Under the new Expedited Legal Initiative, everything has been completed concerning the matter.” He swiped through a holopad projected from his wrist. “The company settled for eight trillion credits, which have already been deposited into your account. And you’ll be happy to know your divorce has been finalized as well. You, of course, were granted sole custody of the children.”
“Divorce?”
“The doctors were unable to help your husband. If they tried to remove the implant, it would most likely have been fatal. So the courts decided the merciful thing would be to place Arnold in a new line of work more suitable to his condition. The high court ruled that giving both of you a clean slate, allowing you to remarry if you wanted, was the most merciful outcome. Do you have any more questions before I go?”
“Yes!” Mary Ann gasped. She could scarcely keep up with this man’s banter. He must deliver life-altering statements like this all day, every day, she thought. “What new line of work? And where is Arnold, anyway? I’d like to speak to him about all this.”
“Unfortunately, Mrs. Dalton, Arnold departed on a deep-space, asteroid mining vessel three days ago. But don’t worry. I received word from the captain that Arnold is adjusting wonderfully. Supposedly, he already has a nickname, and a tattoo, and a few friends. Any more questions?”
Mary Ann stood with her mouth half open. She blinked once, and the attorney was gone.
by submission | Aug 5, 2017 | Story |
Author : Tyler Hawkins
As the first warm, reassuring rays of the sun peek into the habitat, they begin to creep across a blinking computer terminal, as they’ve done countless times before. There’s a soft thump from far away, and the still air is coaxed into a whisper of a breeze by the vents above. Displays scattered throughout the empty room blink on in a staggered sequence, and begin to slowly scroll through data carefully prepared overnight for no one in particular.
Outside, a gentle wind becomes more bold and begins to kick up playful splashes of rust-colored sand against the exterior. Long, bristled arms of metal raise themselves from shallow, dusty graves and sweep off rows of solar panels lined up in neat rows. A door telescopes open, and small wheeled rovers exit the habitat and explore the collection of stout buildings and equipment scattered around the habitat, each examining various spots on the ground and surfaces, making minor repairs to the deserted compound. As the sun reaches its peak, their job seemingly complete for today, they retreat back inside. A small hole opens in the top of the habitat and a dish is raised into the air. It moves to point directly at a blue-green dot in the sky and then freezes, as if in excited anticipation. After a minute, it begins to gradually move again, this time aiming itself in tiny concentric circles around the blue dot hanging in the sky as if it were blind to its existence. Some time later after repeating the process in futile succession it lowers, defeated, back into its cradle.
As the sun sinks below the horizon, soft white lights on the edges of the structures blink on, determined to allow a few more hours of useful light. Far off in the distance, a dust devil goes on a warpath on a line of sand dunes, hellbent on scattering the mounds to the wind. From speakers positioned on wire-frame towers, a soft tune is played for no one in particular and as the final notes fade, the artificial lights slowly blink off in sequence, as if to pull the light inside the habitat. From inside a geodesic dome near one end of the compound, small automatons gently pluck cherry tomatoes from vines and carefully wash them before delivering them to overflowing containers of vegetables in various states of decay. Satisfied, they retreat into the walls and begin to recharge.
As various sounds and lights in the compound blink out and cease and the displays around the computer terminal fade off, the terminal continues to blink steadily into the night, awaiting a user which will never come.
by submission | Aug 4, 2017 | Story |
Author : Sean Wilkins
On a star-laden beach near a rocky shore, wrinkled hands held, step in step toward a monolithic solar-tower. Mason felt the rounded edge of the tower, remembering the years, and was sad it had no use anymore. Alla watched the storm rolling in over a dark sea. He gripped her hand tight; thunder on the horizon.
Alla remembered the story he used to tell, when he bought the place, and how cheap it was. Mason told it again, and she listened, happily. She thought of the wedding they had on the beach: her dress and the beard he let out; the flowers and the guests; the food and the music and the air they all breathe. He didn’t mind if his family showed up, forgetting to invite his father entirely.
She watched the storm brew, lightning flashes over the water; him, the dead collector of light with no one left to see it. Shuttles broke the atmosphere, ahead of the storm. It was almost time to leave forever, she dreaded to tell him. In the sand were memories, where the children grew up, and they grew old. She still worried about them, so far from home, and knew he did too.
Near the cityscape, shuttles landed to whisk them away. He didn’t want to leave, and she couldn’t without him. He had stood by her side, through boring astrophysics conferences, and then the cancer. She had stood by his, from one editor to the next, another manuscript rejected.
They began their walk back toward the beach house, and shuttles in the distance. He wondered what they would be like. She liked to think cerebral. She remembered the day they made first contact, from the little orange star that takes light years to travel. She remembered the divide they all felt, some euphoria, others panic. Some scientists, others theologians.
Hand in hand, he joked what they looked like. He said tentacles with ganglion arms; she said cosmic vessels of light and star-stuff, with an intellect that dwarfed their own.
He told her it wouldn’t matter, as long as they had each other. She admitted hesitation, to leaving their home. She had spent her life on this planet, with him. It had never occurred to her to imagine she would die on another world.
They approached the beach house, one last time. Inside, they had holidays and movie nights. Outside, a truck pulled up to take them away.
“It’s time,” she told him.
“Okay,” he knew, tears in his eyes.
They climbed into the truck, the storm in the rear view.
“Mrs. Debroux, I’m a big fan,” the Alliance officer said.
The truck rumbled down the dirt road, away from everything they had come to know. Alla looked into the sky, at the tiny speck called Earth. She thought of the people who were in her shoes then, and the things they must have felt. She imagined how many were uprooted and scared; how many thought of this once red planet as alien.
Now they were to do it all again. Begin somewhere new. She didn’t know if she had it in her, gripping his hand tight.
The truck let them out; the shuttle doors were open. They found their seats, among the old and restless. The shuttle took off, toward their new home around the little orange star.
by submission | Aug 2, 2017 | Story |
Author : David Henson
I was working in the lab late one night. My assistant Igorbot had left, but there was nothing for me to go home to since Loretta had moved out.
Left alone, I’d poured myself into my work even more than usual. We were on the verge of a breakthrough in transference. Tomorrow, Igorbot and I would conduct a frog-hamster mind swap. I should’ve been excited, but without Loretta it didn’t seem to matter. I had a shot of Adrastean Absinthe from the bottle I kept in my desk. Then I had a couple more. Then I had a bright idea.
My memory is a bit hazy — did I mention I’d had four or six shots of AdAb? — but for some reason I decided to get a jump on tomorrow’s experiment. I put the electrodes on the frog and the hamster. Then I had a couple or four more shots of AdAb. Then I thought — what the hell, the quantum implants provide more than enough capacity — and took the electrodes off the hamster. I started to attach them to my own temples, but I apparently had another idea. At least I have no other explanation for how the window got open. I do remember thinking — who wants to be a frog cooped up in a laboratory. The next thing I knew, I was hopping around my human body, which was crouched in the corner and drunkenly poking out its tongue. And I had an irresistible urge to get to the pond in Marsha’s Marsh on the other side of Konami Highway.
It’s a busy road. Traffic all night. The first time I tried to cross, I was nearly squashed by a lory, but I still felt I had to get to that pond. There was an opening, and I made it halfway across the eastbound lanes. Then I saw lights bearing down on me, backtracked, and froze as tires passed on both sides. There was another break, and off I hopped. I finally made it to the other side in fits and starts.
The pond was heaven. A symphony of frogs and crickets. The gentle splashes of surfacing fish — trout, I think. The water reflected a full moon, and a soft breeze rustled through the reeds. I just sat there on a lily pad and took it all in. I could’ve stayed all night, but knew I should get back in my own body.
At the road, there were flashing red lights everywhere, and traffic was at a standstill. As I was crossing, I heard a guy tell a police officer “I saw him bent down beside the road. Then he just … hopped.” I got a sinking feeling and looked at the mangled body on the pavement. Sure enough.
I started jumping up and down frantically, but nobody paid any attention till one of the cops kicked at me. I weighed my options. I could’ve gone back to the lab and waited for Igorbot, possibly got him to connect the dots. But then what? Put my mind in cyberspace or even a bot? Somehow that didn’t feel right. I was just so drawn to the pond in Marsha’s Marsh.
So here I am, croaking away on my favorite lily pad, happier than I’ve been in years. I especially love the fireflies — my own universe of twinkling stars. And they taste just like chicken.
by submission | Jul 31, 2017 | Story |
Author : Samuel Stapleton
Classified Hearing AF:145-34a C3
Interviewer: Charles Witcomb
“If you could go back commander, would you alter your decision?”
“No.”
“I’m going to note for the record that you didn’t even seem to reconsider…”
“I don’t need too. If I hadn’t swallowed that planet, they would’ve swallowed us.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Did you study much history in schoolnet?”
“As much as is normal I suppose, why?”
“How much do you remember about the Cold War between America and the USSR?”
“I recall that it wasn’t much of a war.”
“Correct. Because of MAD.”
“Mutually assured destruction?”
“Precisely. Both sides had a nuclear stockpile capable of taking out the other in a retaliatory attack. Therefore launching an offensive would inevitably lead to self destruction.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with this hearing commander?”
“I’ve been court martialed based on my decision to wipe out an entire alien species. I’m explaining my reasoning behind.”
I motioned for him to continue.
“If we continue my historical comparison we must admit that nuclear arms and the power they represent is now an infinitesimal speck in terms of the military capability that humans and other alien species hold. Worm-black-holes mean that MAD is no longer an option. If you’re attacked, there is no chance to retaliate. Destruction is complete and instantaneous and your species is ended. If humanity is to survive the inevitable encounters we are going to have in the future, we must change our military strategy to match these facts. We must seek in order to find before we ourselves are found, and we must attack immediately with the intention to fully obliterate all life besides ourselves. We no longer have the luxury of holding onto hope of any kind. One wrong decision and humanity ends. Personally I think it would be a tragedy for our species to have survived millions of years on Earth only to be wiped out by our own kindness once we began reaching into the cosmos.”
“And this is how you justify specicide?”
“I didn’t say it was justified, I only said it was necessary….”
I had no words for the monster who sat across from me. Or the monster within myself that was quietly agreeing with him.
“Ironic, isn’t?”
“What’s that?”
“That we spent our few last centuries on Earth desperately trying to preserve the biosphere and save the species we had been wiping out. And now that we have left our solar system we will be desperately trying to wipe out every species we come across to preserve the galaxies for ourselves.”
“No one said we were adopting your military strategy commander.”
“No one has to. That’s the great thing about humanity corporal, we are so very good at looking the other way when we need too. And since we can’t look back, we’ll look forward to all that…empty space.”
