by submission | Jun 15, 2017 | Story |
Author : John Gerard Fagan
The air inside smelled of bonfires. He shivered and fastened the boy’s jacket to the top.
“Try and sleep,” Claud said. Broo replied with silence, staring at boots that were too big for his feet. They huddled together on the ship’s metallic floor for warmth, lost in fearful thoughts, listening to the hum of the vents. There wasn’t enough air for both of them to make the journey, never mind water or food. He had stayed too long. Time was up.
“Pa?”
“Yes?”
“Promise you won’t leave me.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“If you run, I’m running. You said that.”
“Yes.” Claud sniffed and placed an arm over his shoulders. “But I want you to make it, Broo. If I stay here we both die. You know that.”
“But I don’t know what to do,” the boy said, eyes watering.
“All you have to do is be brave. This pod is headed for one of our colonies. There’s some good people there. You just have to find them.”
“How?”
Claud kissed the boy’s head. “Don’t worry about it right now. You’ll know when you get there. Just stay strong.”
He heated a red soup and they ate in silence. They were a long way from home, but it still called to him like a long forgotten song from childhood. All that was left was fading memories. Her face was still clear though. Always would be. Even after the trees, rivers and fields of summer were long gone.
He looked at the boy with eyes welling. Almost five. Worth dying for. Worth all the sacrifice. Worth leaving her behind.
“I want to see it one last time,” Broo whispered. Claud nodded and lifted him to the small window. They stared but could only see the darkness of space. No stars. Moon. Nothing.
“Pa?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to go without you.”
“I know.”
“Promise you’ll stay with me then.”
Claud placed his jacket over the boy’s shoulders and wiped the hair away from his forehead.
“If I promise will you sleep?”
“Okay.”
“Then I promise.”
“With your whole heart?”
“With my whole heart.”
Claud waited until Broo was asleep. Hands shaking. Eyes wet and running. Any longer they were both dead. He stepped into the release port and sealed the door behind. He closed both eyes, pulled the leaver and drifted from the ship.
by submission | Jun 14, 2017 | Story |
Author : C. James Darrow
From ninety six million miles away Earth looks like a faint blue ornament hanging off something unseen. Every ounce of life our solar system cradles and keeps warm is on that pale speck and from this distance it all seems so insignificant.
Soon we will slingshot around the sun. The lifeblood that granted Earth permission to host all that life. As our ship gets sucked into its blistering gaze and slingshots outward the solar sails deploy and our speed increases tenfold. We don’t feel it. To us, we are standing still. We are kept relatively safe—these are the exact words of the company responsible for this excursion—inside reinforced steel and glass and plastic and all the other bits keeping the radiation of the fireball near us, out. The slightest turning of the wrong screw or a passing piece of space debris the size of a penny could end this trillion dollar experiment.
That’s what this all is, essentially; an experiment to put the human psyche to the test. To see if we insignificant humans can build something to withstand this void we now traverse.
We launched months ago. We are just reaching the sun. Our destination is light years beyond that. If we reach it—and that’s a big if: if the sails don’t break, if the ion thrusters don’t give out, if life support doesn’t give out, if our own bodies don’t give out, we will reach our destination in nearly a hundred years. All the people we have come to know and love and call family and friends will be dead. We never will get to see them, or any sights from Earth again. Our technology now, which is years ahead of anything accessible to the public will be obsolete. We as humans, the knowledge we possess, will be obsolete.
I wonder if after these years pass whether anybody will remember our names. When I wake up, will I even? Will I be the same person I was before I go down for the deep sleep?
What world will I wake up to? . .I hope it to be much more beautiful than the one I’m leaving behind.
by submission | Jun 13, 2017 | Story |
Author : Alex Smith
Six of them stood around the grave, silent. It was the first time they had lost a soldier.
For a long while, nobody moved. The air was still, disturbed only by the whirs and clicks of their implants, and the gentle humming of respirators. Eventually, the Captain spoke up.
“Reyes was a good fighter,” he said hoarsely. His electrolarynx crackled with static, distorting the pain in his voice. “One of the best in the battalion. And he was a good man, at that.”
The others said nothing.
“Reyes would have wanted us to honour him,” the Captain continued. “He would have wanted us to respect his death. He would have wanted us to forget.”
Still, the gathered soldiers were silent.
“There is no room for sorrow on the battlefield.” His voice was hard, now. “You freeze up, you hesitate even for a second, you die. Reyes knew that. So do all of you.”
The Captain reached up to his temple, to the tangle of wires and lights stitched into his skin, just below the hairline. There was a brief pause; a moment of indecision. Then, one by one, the others did the same.
“Until all of this is over,” he told them, “we cannot afford the luxury of grief.”
Delicately, he brushed his fingertips against the interface. Something metallic stirred inside his skull.
Sergeant Giorgio Reyes, he thought. Full wipe.
*
Five of them stood around the grave, silent. It was the first time they had lost a soldier.
by submission | Jun 11, 2017 | Story |
Author : Russell Bert Waters
She slept as he observed her for the final time.
The moonlight brushed the canvas of her skin with a paint that revealed her natural beauty.
He yearned to wake her, to spill his regrets out in one long glut.
He would not do this, of course.
In doing so, he would be inviting her to talk him out of what he felt he must do.
They had never married.
He was married, then divorced, once before.
Because of how things went on his first go ‘round, he vehemently insisted that marrying her may ruin the wonderful relationship they had.
This was his biggest regret, of course.
There she lay; his, yet not his.
Her seven-hundred-and-some-odd-year-old body didn’t look a day past seventy.
Her skin was pale, freckled, lovely.
The capsules lay on the nightstand, and he mentally tried to talk himself out of the next step.
But he wouldn’t do so successfully; he knew what he was doing was right, and even patriotic.
Once the ground level of Earth had overpopulated to a scary degree, tethers had been built which shot up into the sky with domed capsules attached.
These capsules were cities in and of themselves.
They littered the sky.
Medical advances had made humans virtually immortal, but once they did finally die they were shot into space, in biodegradable capsules, toward Europa.
Their bodies were injected full of bacteria and algae, which would consume them during the trip, and would aid the terraforming process after the capsules crash-landed onto the surface of the most promising of Jupiter’s moons.
A person who was bored with living could volunteer as a tribute, to help save the human race by leaving Earth well in advance of their natural death.
There was a substantial cash benefit awarded to their survivors, courtesy of Uncle Sam.
He looked at her one last time, then stood by the window and swallowed the first capsule.
Although he had never made things official with her, he felt she was tethered to him, much as their building was tethered to the Earth thousands of feet below.
He whispered “farewell, my love” as the drone which would take him to prepare for his final journey lit up their window with a blue glow.
He swallowed the second capsule, which would remove any anxiety and eventually put him into a deep sleep.
She stirred slightly as he unlatched the window.
“Goodbye, my love, one day you’ll understand I’m doing this for you” he said softly, and then he stepped out into the brisk, night air.
by submission | Jun 10, 2017 | Story |
Author : David Henson
Ellen watches as the machine, bigger than Harold, starts vibrating, its red and blue lights blinking slowly. Gradually the vibration becomes a loud grinding sound and the lights a purple blur. When everything stops, Harold swings open the large door, reaches down and picks up two eggs from the floor of the device. “OK Honey, what’s next?”
Ellen looks back at the recipe book that she’s borrowed from the Library of Artifacts. “Two cups of sugar.”
Harold taps the keypad on the side of the replicator. After a few moments, he hands the sugar to Ellen. “I’m sure it’s not nearly as sweet as you.”
“Harold, you do say the nicest things. Next we need flour. Three cups.”
“Flour, you say?”
“That’s right.”
Harold grins at Ellen, then goes through the routine with the replicator. “Here you go.” He turns and hands her a long-stemmed rose.
Ellen feels her cheeks flush. “Harold, what’d I ever do to deserve you?” She chuckles to herself.
“I love how you’ve got your hair today. That swoop.”
“It’s the latest fashion on the Venus colonies.”
“Well, that’s perfect ’cause you’re my Aphrodite.”
“You’re going to turn my head, Harold. Now let’s have that flour, the powdered kind.”
Harold starts to turns back toward the replicator, then faces Ellen again. “Sweetie, I have a question. Why don’t we just replicate the whole cake at once?”
“I thought I’d try my hand at making it from scratch.”
“You’ll start going to the old-time markets next. Give up replicating altogether like the purists.”
Ellen shakes her head. “No, no, not me. I’d never want to give up my replicator.”
Ellen and Harold put the machine through its paces for the next half-hour or so. “That’s it?” Harold starts to hug Ellen.
“No. We’re missing the most important thing.”
“What’s that?”
“An oven to bake the cake in, silly goose.”
“Oven?” Harold turns to the keypad and scratches his head.
“O-v-e-n. The cake needs to bake for 30 minutes. Set the oven to expire. In an hour.”
***
“Absolutely delicious,” Harold says, patting his lips with a napkin. “Ellen my dear, you can add master chef to your long list of accomplishments.”
The oven begins to beep. As it does, it fades from view, then disappears.
After Harold cleans up, Ellen and he spend the rest of the evening listening to the Rings of Saturn Concerto and sharing a bottle of replicated merlot. Harold hangs on Ellen’s every word as she explains the finer points of how to appreciate classical music and a wine’s bouquet.
Ellen checks the time. “Well,” she says coyly. “I think I’ll go into the bedroom now.”
A big smile takes over Harold’s face. “Wonderful. Those are the words I’ve been … BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…BEEP.” Harold fades from view and disappears.
Ellen goes to the replicator and taps the keypad. After the machine stops groaning and flashing, she opens the door. A tall, rippling man with dark, wavy hair steps out and scoops her up in his arms. “Baby, you still got that Indian Kami Sooter book from the library of old stuff?”
Ellen puts her arms around Pete’s neck. “Oh yeah, Baby. We’re on page 41 tonight.” She closes her eyes and smiles. “Page 41.”
