by submission | Dec 11, 2016 | Story |
Author : Robert Lafosse
She was on her way to the Kyiv National University of Construction. It was a glorious May morning, the sun beating down from a crystal blue sky. A light breeze ruffled her skirt a bit as she walked.
Olga hummed along to a tune on her iPod. Something by U2.
In the field off the path she noticed a group of squirrels milling about under a hornbeam tree. It was a fairly large pack, about 10 or 12, and they were hopping around and chasing each other.
They were red squirrels, of the genus Sciurus. Cute because of their tufted ears.
As Olga came closer, they stopped as a group and turned towards her. People didn’t bother them. They didn’t flee or poise themselves for flight. They just watched her.
She noticed that one of the squirrels was larger than the rest. Not much, maybe a few centimeters, but enough to make it stand out. As she watched, the larger squirrel started coming towards her, in that half hopping, half running way that squirrels have. This is odd, Olga thought, and slowed down to watch. The squirrel was coming directly towards her, seemingly immune to fear.
When it was about 5 meters away, it stopped and sat on its haunches. When it was closer Olga noticed that its eyes were abnormally large for a squirrel. They looked like lemurs eyes, big, round like marbles. And they were staring at her.
This made her feel uncomfortable. The pack of squirrels that the big one had abandoned had edged closer to the path as Olga was watching the larger one.
Turning on her heel, she started walking again towards the University. Only after a few dozen steps did she glance over her shoulder and notice that the larger squirrel was following her down the path. When she stopped to look at it, the squirrel stopped as well.
She started walking again, this time faster. A few quick peeks confirmed that the large red squirrel was following, and the pack of ‘normal’ squirrels were a few meters behind it.
Something akin to panic set in. The path was deserted, the park was dead quiet and she was being tailed by a scurry of squirrels.
Awash in fear, she bounded up the tree. The branches and leaves scratching at her face as she scampered up as fast as she could. The notion that squirrels were designed for climbing trees seemed to have escaped her.
The dray of squirrels rummaged about at the bottom of the tree. The big one was climbing.
It slowly pulled itself up, all the while staring at Olga as she was perched dangerously on the uppermost branch she could reach. But her path was not blocked. She could not go any higher, she could not descend without passing the big squirrel.
Unlike the scampering that squirrels usually do when climbing, its movements were slow and deliberate. All the while its large eyes fixed on Olga.
About 1 meter from Olga, it sat down. Her breath came in great gasps and she could hear her heart thundering in her chest.
After a few minutes, with the squirrel sitting still, Olga started to calm down.
“Have you calmed down young lady”, the voice was high pitched and had a slight Moscow accent. “My friends and I”, and it gestured down to the group at the bottom of the tree, “could not help but notice you have some peanut butter sandwiches. Would it be an imposition for you to share them with us?”
She could have sworn it smiled.
by submission | Dec 10, 2016 | Story |
Author : Janet Shell Anderson
The WORLSNEWS says she’s got the best body on the planet. So where’s Giovanna Tatiana Romanova Baldwin? Not in Gulf Stream/Delray.
The Secret Service’s going crazy at my cousin’s huge estate. He’s been elected Vice Pres. He thought they’d never win, didn’t bother to campaign. Now his wife Giovanna has disappeared for the third time. The Pres Elect is coming, and my cuz, Perry Austrian Baldwin, can’t find out from anyone why they’re supposed to have a victory tour in Delray. There’s nothing here anymore around Gulf Stream/Delray but old, big money, drunk in vast houses, secreted in deep shrubbery, while the rest of us riff-raff’re stuck with heaps of rusting motor cycles, vans, ancient SUVs; neon palm reader signs; huge oil rigs; tidal flooding. We’re awash in talking manatees, miniature Pleistocene mammals, rainbow marmosets that are very political, creatures not fashionable anymore. They can smell who you voted for and react accordingly. Now posh people collect teacup-sized, pot-bellied pigs that grunt salutes, quote Heidegger, Nietzsche.
There are Chinese gunboats in the waterway. I saw one as I crossed the bridge to the A1A. I’m Eudora Pennifer, divorce attorney. Giovanna’s friend. Half the country hates the new Pres Elect and Perry too, half loves them. The line’s at the Mississippi, except for Minneapolis, which hates everybody.
So I’m on the road to my cuz’s estate, but my self-driving car turns into a parking lot for a nude beach on the Atlantic side near Pelican Avenue, and, sure enough, I spot six Secret Service agents assigned to Perry, who decided to charge them all ninety-five thousand a week rent. Now they’re living on the beach. Their shoulder holsters look stark on guys not even wearing Speedos.
Is Giovanna here? What does this car know? The plan was she’d be long gone. I’d file. I squint in the glare. Could she be the one with the high, metallic mane, fourteen carat, glittering, flashing out some private code? Unlikely.
A big sign warns “Children of the Sun Only. No Trespassing.” A loose marmoset climbs on it, defecates. Is this political? The agents look to be following the glittering lady closely as she strolls among broken shells, seaweed, Styrofoam, pink condoms, blue poisonous Portuguese-men-of-war. Aphrodite in the waves. Beach cleaners on strike. The gunmen like the look of her.
This island’s narrow here. Through palms, across the two-lane highway, I can see the Gulf Stream Waterway and Chinese gunboats. They’re watching, like pirates, with old-fashioned spyglasses. Hunting treasure?
My car, on its own, departs the beach, hurtles up my cousin’s private drive that says, “Private Drive, Keep Out,” toward the waterway, where the Chinese gunboats glide in beside Perry’s infinity pool. A pygmy mammoth pops out of the jacaranda, his fur trimmed like a poodle, and cries, “Alas, alas. Babylon is fallen.” He looks awfully hot.
“I don’t wanna be Second Lady,” a young creature says. Second Lady? She looks twelve, though loaded with enough gold jewelry to weigh down Helen of Troy. She’s certainly not Giovanna.
“Don’t worry,” Perry says, assisting her aboard the gunboat. He waves to me. Smiles.
Good thing I always get paid up front. Wonder where he’ll go? I whistle to the mammoth. “Get in, Buddy. Let’s go home.”
by submission | Dec 9, 2016 | Story |
Author : Pratyush Mishra
There are moments of desperation and…
There are times when I have a glimpse of who I truly am and then suddenly…
There are those moments when I can hear the White Lady walk in with the notes. She brandishes the hypodermic syringe and pats my arm… a shot and a searing Pain… I feel I won’t collapse but…
There is a little girl with bright brown eyes and head full of curls. She calls me M… but even though she is familiar I don’t recognise her.
I haven’t been able to remember the past few days. My head hurts as if huge volumes of vodka are coursing through my veins. It is that kind of headache.
I don’t remember who I am anymore.
“The drug NRo2 has been doing wonders on him. Soon you can take him home.” The man in the lab coat smiles at a group of people. He ruffles my head and walks away.
It feels like a new sensation altogether.
I look at myself in the mirror as I dress up.
They shove me gently into a car and we drive through the rustic lanes of the town. I’m sure I have seen this place before, but it somehow feels different.
The girl sits by me holding my arm softly.
I am yet to ascertain what story her gaze hides.
The house is a sprawling one.
An old man greets me at the garden and affably pats my back.
He mumbles something I can’t quite hear.
As I walk into the house, portraits of an old couple greet me. Those eyes of the old woman look strangely familiar and yet I can’t seem to know for sure if I’ve ever known her.
“This is your room”, the old man signals, smiling toothlessly.
I look around at the neatly arranged papers and desk.
There is a tall mirror in front of me.
I walk towards it and remove the curtains.
Inside the mirror I see a lanky adolescent looking confusedly back at me.
And then I remember.
NRo2.
The Aging Enrouter gene. NRo2, the drug, my brain child.
Now I know who the girl is. Well, I can merely grin devilishly at my reflection.
Bah! Not too old am I to spend a bit more years fooling around.
by submission | Dec 8, 2016 | Story |
Author : Leanne A. Styles
“You’re insane, Estella,” my sister said, peering out the window to catch a glimpse of my new pet.
“Stop being so dramatic, Maia,” I said. “The breeder said if you care for them correctly they’re the perfect pet. Besides, I wanted something rare, and nobody else we know has one.”
“There’s a good reason for that. Anyway, that’s not true. Leda’s friend had one, remember? It escaped and nearly killed her. It’s still on the loose now.”
“Well, then, she must have been careless. She probably didn’t take the time to bond with hers. Trust me, they’re harmless. Come and see for yourself ‒ if you’re brave enough,” I added with a smirk.
She glowered at me. “Let’s do this.”
Outside, in my compound, Maia cowered behind me as we watched my pet pacing in its enclosure.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I said, admiring her golden blonde mane and the lines of her slender body.
“Weird looking, more like. It doesn’t look very happy.”
My pet had come to a stand and was staring at us through the bars. Looking into her deep brown eyes ‒ so hard, so much raw animal simmering under the surface ‒ made my stomach fizz with an addictive blend of fear and excitement.
She hissed something at us in a language we didn’t understand, then, faster than I’d imaged her capable of, she lunged at the bars. Stretching her limbs through the gaps, she clawed wildly for us. She screeched and growled and spat, slamming her body against the titanium.
Maia staggered back, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“Harmless?” she said.
“She’ll be fine once I’ve tamed her.”
“Where did you get it, anyway?”
“Her.”
She rolled her eyes. “Where did you get her?”
“The galactic market on Quiari.”
“That hellhole?! It’s a wonder you made it out alive. Didn’t they have something less terrifying for you to bring home? Even one of those giant acid-spitting centipedes would have been safer than this.”
“It’s not the same.”
My pet grew tired and dropped to the floor. She scratched at the dirt, and a strange sound started to emanate from her throat ‒ an awful wailing. Water was trickling from her eyes. I’d never seen anything like it.
“What’s wrong with her?” Maia asked.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Maybe she’s… sad.”
I shot her a mocking look. “Don’t be silly. They don’t have feelings ‒ not like we do, anyway. She’s probably just hungry.”
I mixed a bowl of oats and water (a good staple for my pet, apparently), walked around to the wall at the side of the enclosure, and placed it in the serving hatch before shoving it through to the other side. I made my way back to the front. My pet used the bars to pull herself to her feet and shuffled over to the bowl. I grinned as she picked it up.
With frightening force, she hurled the bowl at the bars, lumps of oats flying across the compound.
“Not hungry, then,” I said, wiping the sludge from my face.
My pet retreated to the back of her enclosure and crouched down in the corner, fixing her gaze on me.
Maia came to stand beside me again.
“I’m keeping her,” I said, smiling warmly at my new possession.
Maia sighed. “Obviously. You’ve wanted your own pet for as long as I can remember, and I’m happy for you ‒ I really am. But of all the pets you could have chosen, did it really have to be a human?”
by submission | Dec 5, 2016 | Story |
Author : Andi Dobek
The instrument panel flickered longer than I’d have liked before its glow intensified, and the loud knocking finally quieted as the machine entered standby mode. I focused on the snugness of the harness around my chest, rather than what was about to happen.
I didn’t have the credits to buy one of the top of the line, government-sanctioned time reversers, the ones that came with a “money and time back” guarantee. If you weren’t completely satisfied with your trip to the past, your credits would never leave your bank account, and security would stop you at the door. They’d hand you a card that read “We’re sorry you didn’t enjoy your trip” with a list of reasons you gave in a survey, filled out before they’d even unstrapped you. The QR code on the card provided a link to FAQs, so you could figure out how you didn’t enjoy a trip you’d never taken.
Ones sold illegally were built in basements, chop shops and abandoned warehouses. You used them at your own risk, and all of them had the same flaw: they couldn’t monitor your activities like government ones did, and therefore could not guarantee your safe return. These were one-way tickets, banned nearly everywhere.
Mine was one of the “newer” models, in that it provided such luxuries as a cupholder and charging port for devices that still required them. It tracked my heartrate (spiking at the moment), brain waves, and lung capacity. The latter had been steadily depleting, but smoking two packs a day will do that, and my desire to quit had long since abated.
I wiped my thumb on my pants and held it to the thermal scanner. I had to wipe it a second time before the screen was able to scan accurately. Once my identity was verified as the purchaser and sole user of the machine, a backlit keypad slid out of the dash.
[Arrival date?]
I could choose any moment in my life, from as little as 60 seconds prior to the jump, to as far back as the day I was born. It had taken me months to work up the nerve to make the highly illegal purchase, and another half a year before I could even bring myself to sit in it. But I had known since August 12, 2181, what date I would revisit.
I entered February 9th, 2170. The default time was 00:00, just when the day was beginning.
[Confirm?]
I thumbed the scanner to confirm. The knocking started again, and I felt its vibrations in my seat.
[Date confirmed. Have a nice day.]
As the knocking swelled to a roar, I tried to picture my wife’s face one last time. I had memorized the day we met, knew exactly where I needed to be in order to meet her for the first time, and fall in love with her all over again. And what I needed to do to ensure that didn’t happen.
I closed my eyes, trying to hold on to her smile, the way her eyes crinkled above blushing cheeks, because in a moment, I was going to ensure we never met. She’d marry someone far richer, someone who could afford the life-saving treatments I couldn’t.
I gripped the armrests of my seat. My teeth rattled. Scenes from our life played back in reverse, and my breath hitched as I watched her grow healthy again, then younger and younger in my memories. As an afterthought, I reached to thumb my wedding ring, one last time, but it was already gone.
