by submission | May 6, 2016 | Story |
Author : MD Parker
The sound of clinking dishes dominated the air as he sat across from the old man. Jason placed his digital recorder on the table.
“I told you that won’t work.” The old man stared with apathy.
“Why not? Could you explain that again?” Jason rolled his eyes.
“What I have to tell you can only be heard. You cannot record it. It cannot be written. It won’t allow itself to take form in any place other than the memories of the soul.”
“Just humor me? You asked me here, I’m humoring you. A little quid-pro-quo? Give and take?”
“Fine.” The old man stifled a laugh as Jason pressed the red button.
“Let’s start with your name?”
“My name hasn’t relevance, your mind is still not open…”
“…Quid-pro-quo.”
“Of course.” Another chuckle. “My name is De…”
He gave his name and place of birth, but no dates. He set a box, with small wooden slats held together by age-encrusted iron bands, onto the table. A tarnished golden buckle inlaid on a leather fastener held the lid.
The man spoke for ten minutes, but the story seemed to come from the box. Each minute, each word, the sound grew louder and louder. Jason’s head rang with the sound of a thousand voices whispering all at once.
“So, you see…” The old man turned the box and pulled the lid, its contents facing Jason. A blue-green light emanated from the box, lighting Jason’s slack-jawed expression.
The old man continued, “… I saved the world once. You know why we’re here now, don’t you?”
Jason sat speechless staring into the box.
A single tear fell from his eye.
by submission | May 5, 2016 | Story |
Author : Ian Clarke
Professor Rogers said, “The way we measure and mark points in time is completely artificial and irrelevant to time travel, using clocks and calendars to locate points in time is impossible. Without a reference point we have no means to locate the time we want to go to.”
The student replied, “Yes I agree but what if we could step out of the time stream then select the time location and re-emerge there?”
The Professor thought about this as he sipped his coffee, these conversations usually depended on fantasy. This time however he decided not to dismiss it out of hand but to see how far David had developed this idea. “How would you do that?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“OK,” David began, “we know that all elements have their own resonant frequencies and by harmonizing with it’s frequency, we can affect the structure of an object.”
The Professor agreed, “Yes, like sound breaking glass.”
David continued, “If we manipulate the resonance of an object correctly, then it would shift out of this dimension and time, by controlling the parameters of the frequency, we control the shift.”
Professor Rogers acknowledged the logic but an obvious question occurred to him,
“To control it, it would have to be self contained with a power source and complex frequency generator all with exactly the same resonant frequency, how is that possible?” he asked.
“By building a shell from one pure element and isolating the mechanism inside from the shell, only the shell needs to resonate and when it shifts out of this dimension it carries everything inside with it.” David explained.
It seemed like he was being drip fed enough information to raise the next obvious question.
“So how would you find the event in time that you want to travel to?” Asked Rogers.
“When you alter an objects resonance it becomes transparent, from inside you can see where you are in the time stream,” David said, “by carefully adjusting the parameters of the frequency you can control the speed, distance and direction of travel.”
There was something about the way David said this that made Rogers think he had already experimented, “Have you tried this?” he found himself asking, he was reluctant to think it was possible but followed up with “Do you have a prototype?”
David reached down into his backpack by his feet and produced a metal capsule about the size of a wine bottle without a neck, he gave it a twist and it came apart in two sections exposing the innards. It had a couple of simple controls inside, he pressed a button, screwed it back together, laid it on the table and in a few seconds it vanished.
Professor Rogers was stunned, “Wait, what happ…? Where did it go?” he blurted out, uncertain if he wanted to know the answer.
“It’s still there” said David “but no longer in this dimension. It can only be controlled from within so this model has a predetermined time shift, our timeline will catch up in a minute.”
Rogers frantically tried to absorb it all, “Is it that simple?” he thought to himself, “No Wormholes, no Warp Drive just a simple change of frequency?”
As he stared at the empty space, the biggest question in his mind was, “How could a student come up with this?”
When the capsule reappeared Professor Rogers had a sudden and shocking realisation,
“So you have travelled back in time to demonstrate this to me.”
“Yes” David said “but it was important to locate the time when you were ready to accept it, come with me.”
by submission | May 4, 2016 | Story |
Author : Tino Didriksen
At the mid of the 21st century, we received the first signal, overriding the output of every speaker on and off the planet with a coherent but seemingly meaningless message. It wasn’t until the second and third signals blared forth with about a week between, that we figured out what it was: coordinates relative to the galactic center, less than two parsecs distant, but drifting ever so slowly away from us!
All diplomatic obstacles postponed or quickly smoothed over, as a year of worldwide dedicated research and engineering was mandated, in an effort to plan out the most ambitious space program ever devised. New and old long distance starship designs were perused, every outlandish propulsion gimmick re-examined, cryotech given a fresh look, and even worm holes got their hour in the spotlight.
From the fruits of humanity’s combined academic efforts, a grand spacecraft was commissioned. The pride of the planet, capable of getting its fifty occupants to their destination within a mere eleven years. We even figured out a limited form of faster than light communication, requiring the ship to drop off stationary relay buoys every half light year. The construction of it all took another half year, after which a great launch ceremony sent the voyage off into the unknown.
Then the long wait set in. The newsworthiness waned, the buried squabbles resurfaced, and the world mostly returned to its old self for a decade. Even the weekly confirmation of extrasolar life became more of a nuisance, and the mission updates were relegated to minor slots.
Finally, though, they were nearing their goal, and the world started caring again. Everyone back home was eagerly watching the feed as the ship came to a halt at the coordinates of the source, a few hours before the time it was calculated that a new ping would be sent out. Broad spectrum receivers were fanned out to ensure immediate triangulation of a precise location, all systems ready to begin bombarding the source with scans.
There! Global jubilation as the signal revealed a majestic alien craft, easily the size of a major metropolitan city. Our crew quickly began sending greetings and probes their way, in all languages and code. But then the echoes came in, and from them was gleaned the strip-mined husk of a once rich living planet and the burnt out remains of a star.
Immediately, radio silence was ordered, but it was too late. The alien vessel lit up slowly, turned lazily towards earth’s finest dinghy, then just sat there like a mute rock for several minutes, before casually accelerating to near light speed on a direct vector towards our little corner of the galaxy. We did not bother ordering pursuit.
As best we figured from the remains found out there, the aliens travel to inhabited systems, drain them for all resources and energy, before entering a hibernation state. They set up an automatic beacon to lure young races to them, and then wake up and follow the trail home.
We’ve since lost contact with the deep space mission, as the aliens destroy or disable each relay they pass, probably as a taunt to show they don’t care if we know when they’ll be here. And why should they? It’s not as if we can hope to put a dent in something capable of eating the sun. So yeah, we’re doomed. We’ve got half a year until they arrive, and we are preparing as best we can, but nobody really believes in it. We were too curious, too naive, and they got us good. Hook, line, and …
by submission | May 2, 2016 | Story |
Author : Beck Dacus
“Oh my God! I found life!”
Kenrin was kneeling on the ground, peering at something in the dust. As Ederford, Roana, Viccison and I walked over to him, he shifted position, suggesting that whatever he was looking at moved, and rapidly. He had found an animal!
The four of us skidded to a stop around him, and huddled together to try and get a glimpse. It took me a second, because both the creature and the regolith were a very dull brown, basically grey, but it was there. Life.
Life was a precious thing in the universe, as it only occurred on approximately one planet for every fifty star systems, and interstellar travel wasn’t easy. Sixteen times the speed of light may sound pretty fast, but light isn’t all that fast in the first place when talking about galaxies. To get from Gerfysa to here, Manklenon, took four years.
The little beast was around five centimeters long, with a body that looked like a pine cone and… fourteen legs. Each one was very thin, and had something that looked like a hook at the end. Despite my fascination with exobiology, I couldn’t help but admit that it did seem a bit too “buggy” for my liking.
That should have told me that we never should have filed the report.
Kenrin deftly clapped the animal into a specimen jar, and handed it to Viccison. “Get that back to the lab,” he said, “and do what you gotta do. I’m gonna try and find more organisms. You three, spread out and help me look.”
Over the course of our adventure, we found a few more life forms, all equally buggy in nature. When we all returned to the hab, we ran a few tests on the bugs, figured out what they were made of and what they could do, and sent our report back to Gerfysa at a slightly improved 20c. We never imagined the consequences.
Twenty Six Years Later
Achpersson Drives have improved in the past few decades, allowing more people to get to Manklenon that would have ever been possible when my team found its biosphere. Being a living planet, it attracted a lot of tourist attention, and civilian tours began eight years after I first arrived. That’s how everything died.
No one could stand the little “Manklenites,” as they were called. Anyone with any kind of arachnophobia went berserk on them. The creatures, unfortunately, had a knack for creeping into normally sealed spaces, ending up in people’s hotel rooms and luggage. But, despite the disgust, the attraction of alien life made people keep coming. Keep killing. Now, with a more complex ecosystem than previously considered riddled with holes, Manklenon’s biosphere could no longer support itself. It has become the lifeless stone we thought it was on approach. Now here I stand, on Ganorpeña, in front of an alien that is the spitting image of a centipede.
I think I’ll hold off on that report.
by submission | May 1, 2016 | Story |
Author : Indiana Fairhurst
Confused, I open my eyes, it’s blurry. I slowly become aware. The sound of the ocean becomes louder and louder.
“I’m alone. Where am I? Who am I?”
My dry throat causes my voice to come out raspy and harsh. I struggle to stand up. It’s apparent I’ve been here for a while. But where is here? There’s sand on either side of me going miles farther than I can see the end of, and behind me, trees, grass, mountains, all such a lush green, all so beautiful. But I wonder, how did I get on this island? I spend all my time searching for answers, any sign of other humans, but nothing.
I go further, I’m deep in the island now, searching. Suddenly, I fall down a steep hill only to find a home, made from logs and branches covered by giant leaves. I walk to the door cautiously but anxiously. But when I walk in, I don’t see any people, but instead, boards covered in complex equations, walls covered in sketches, notes, and calculations.
“I remember.”
Not everything comes back, but enough to know why I’m on this island. I remember the virus, how it killed so many people. I remember my plans, my research, my mother. My sweet mother who died so young from the thing I had come to this island to cure. I tested it on myself, and that’s what caused the memory lapse. I did it to myself.
As the percentage of deaths grew, I realized that my research couldn’t wait any longer. That’s why I came to this island, I needed this specific environment for research.
I see my journals, I remember how some were for research, and others personal. I remember logging my thoughts to keep myself sane. The more I read the more my tears stain the pages. It wasn’t what I expected, I was always alone, always isolated from the world around me. My eyes scour the room when what looks to be the remains of a dog catches my focus.
“Darwin,” I cry out as I remember what it was that helped me finalize the cure. Something was missing, I needed bone marrow, more than I could take from myself without taking my own life as well. Battling my thoughts I fall to my knees short of breath and in shock of all the information that just came flooding back into my memory. I did it to save humanity, it was what finalized the cure that will save the lives of millions. But in the process I ruined myself. I killed the only friend I had since childhood. How could I have done this? How could I kill the only friend I had ever had? I scream until my face turns blue.
“I’m a monster.”
I’ve done nothing for days, despising the person I’ve become. As I take a bite of the most beautiful fruit I have ever seen, I remember what on the island is nutritional, and what’s fatal. My breath runs short, my throat tingles and my vision goes blurry. I fall on my back only to see a helicopter, the same I had arrived in, and the same that was scheduled to pick me up this day. I try to scream, I try to beg for help, but all that comes out is a whimper, a desperate last attempt to justify all that I’ve done to get here. But I know… I know the last chance of humanity surviving will die with me, and I know it was all for nothing.
