by submission | Apr 6, 2014 | Story |
Author : Kurt Hunt
“Failed,” said the ship. Its transmission burst into jagged waves, a white noise elegy.
But the station didn’t understand. “Greetings, Generation-32! Welcome to Centauri Colony!” It beamed yottabytes of data, everything from advertisements to statistics suggesting a critical population shortage. “Please share these exciting details with your passengers, and–”
The chirping auto-welcome fizzled. A tired voice interrupted: “G-32, clarify failure report.”
“Decompressed,” said Generation-32. “Long ago.”
“Cargo status?”
Generation-32 scanned again; same result. Cradled within, it found only ghosts, the hundred million phantom limbs it had carried through the dark.
“Alone,” it said. “I am sorry. I am alone.”
by submission | Apr 5, 2014 | Story |
Author : Bob Newbell
The Agent established contact with the High Command and prepared to deliver his latest report. Nothing about his outward appearance betrayed what he was doing. The entire procedure was telepathic. There were hidden machines in the vicinity that were able to transduce his thoughts and then send them rippling across the quantum superfluid at many times the speed of light, arriving all but instantaneously at the High Command’s base of operations on the fifth planet of the Nu Phoenicis star system 49 light-years from Earth.
“There are indications that the Enemy is preparing to establish one or more bases in this solar system,” the agent said in his head.
“They’ve made no move to reveal themselves to the human race?” asked a silent voice.
“They haven’t,” said the agent with equal silence. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if half a dozen of their ships jumped out of hyperspace and into Earth orbit any day now. Perhaps the time has come to reveal ourselves to the human race.”
“Your assignment is to observe and report, Agent.”
“I meant no disrespect, Command. But the Enemy’s mission is the same as ours: To win hearts and minds. And they’ve made quite a bit of progress.”
As the Agent was issuing his report, one of the Enemy entered the room and sat down a few feet away. The Agent and his Enemy pretended not to notice one another. Amazing, thought the Agent, that this subtle game of spy versus spy had been going on for thousands of Earth years. Over the millennia, relations between the two sides had taken many forms, ranging from open hostility to detente to peaceful and even amicable coexistence. And during all these centuries, two great and terrible empires battled each other among the stars. The tide of battle had once brought the conflict as close as the Alpha Centauri system. Now, Earth itself was probably going to be the next killing field.
“Is the Enemy’s position on Earth strong enough to recruit the human race to their side?” asked the voice of the High Command.
“I suspect mankind would be divided as to which side to support. A majority of the humans would doubtless side with us. But the enemy has made significant inroads.”
For long seconds the High Command said nothing. Finally, a voice in the Agent’s head said, “Perhaps you’re right after all. If what you say is true, the longer we delay the weaker our position. We have ten capital ships holding at their fail safe positions in the Oort Cloud at the periphery of the star system. We will order them to prepare to jump into Earth orbit. Review the open contact protocols. We will be sending the signal to all of our operatives on Earth to reveal themselves simultaneously within the hour. The Enemy will doubtless follow suit.”
“There will be global pandemonium,” thought the Agent.
“We know. It will be up to Agents like yourself to manage humanity’s initial shock.”
“Understood.”
The Agent looked over at the Enemy who was trying to act bored and nonchalant. Probably in contact with his own superiors right now. The Agent then looked at the human to whom he’d been assigned, picked up a ball in his mouth, and dropped it at the human’s feet. One last game of fetch before you find out the truth, the Agent thought with some nostalgia. The Enemy abruptly stopped licking his paw, glared at his rival, and purred with contempt.
by submission | Apr 4, 2014 | Story |
Author : Jay Haytch
“So I walk into the warehouse, right? Was just looking for a quiet place to have a smoke – and it’s full of the damned things!”
“Wait, full of what things?”
“Of them. Of… robots. Must’ve been thirty-five or forty of ’em in there. Dead quiet, just liftin’ boxes and moving them and putting them back down again. Was like a, a, hive of insects. I tell ya, Mitch, it was creepy as hell. Creepy as hell. Hey Barman!”
“They were probably sorting the supplies that just came in on the Corsica. That’s their job.”
“Well I just stood there for a minute – hell, I didn’t have half a clue what I’d just wandered into. Then one of them – get this – the one right up by the door, where I was standing, turns and talks to me. Just like that. Barman! Two more beers over here.”
“(Sigh.) What did he say?”
“He said… Hello Jason.”
“Hello Jason?”
“Yeah, but just – completely deadpan. He didn’t even try to put some emotion into it. The rest of them just kept on doing what they were already doing, like I wasn’t even there.”
“Well I wasn’t exactly gushing with enthusiasm when you came in here, either, but here we are.”
“Mitch, I swear, it was Commander Hendrickson’s voice comin’ outta that tin box. Why did he sound like the Commander?”
“That’s “male voice #73”. A bunch of them are going around using it. Mostly to annoy him.”
“Ah, here’s our beers. Look, you know what I think?”
“Yes, but you’re going to tell me anyway aren’t you?”
“I think the Commander’s gone and up-loaded his brain into the robot network. Hell, he’s probably that central mainframe thing that they all talk to with their wireless gear. And he’s slowly workin’ to make all of us into his own robot platoon.”
“Hendrickson gave the briefing yesterday morning! If you hadn’t been so plastered Thursday night you would’ve been there to see him with your own eyes.”
“He’s making his image with the holo-projector! Next time we’re in there, just throw your jacket over it. He’ll disappear just like the briefing does.”
“You try it if you’re so worried. I’m not going on kitchen duty ’cause I listened to one of your loonie-bin ideas again.”
“I’m telling you, when the robots come to make you one of theirs you’ll wish you’d listened to me.”
“If they were making everyone into robots, don’t you think we’d have noticed by now?”
“Of course not, we’d be programmed not to!”
“But you somehow did.”
“Well they haven’t got me yet. Hey, when was the last time you saw Callie? Or John?”
“Callie went on maternity leave. And John was discharged after that helicopter incident. I was there.”
“That’s what they want you to think.”
“Heh, of course. You want a tequila Jason?”
“Nah, that stuff screws with my actuator motors.”
“Man, I know what you mean but it’s worth it.”
“Aww, I should probably go home early tonight. I’m still in hot water for missing that briefing, and I never put my other battery on the charger.”
“Well, suit yourself. I’ll tell you what: I’m going to go pump out my liquid waste accumulator, and if you’re still here when I get back we’re doing some shots.”
“Hell, Mitch, you’re a bad influence, you know that?”
by submission | Apr 3, 2014 | Story |
Author : Eric Spery
Teena Tolstarre’s Interplanetary Cultural Archeological Team (ICAT) had been onsite on Gliese 163c for over a year. A warm super-terran mesoplanet, Gliese 163c had evidence of at least one extinct sentient culture. So far, the team had discovered camps, fire-rings, the remains of cultivated plants, cliff paintings and evidence of animal husbandry. Based on available data, the team hypothesized that at least one culture was comprised of humanoid beings with an advanced agrarian society; but no physical remains of these humanoids had been discovered.
Until now.
Teena stared twenty feet down the side of a hill through a thick tent of vines ringing one of the countless giant-leafed Gliesean trees. The vines were parted like a tent flap. Beneath them, protected from the unending rains, was the mother lode of physical remains.
Teena was sure she could see at least one whole well-preserved humanoid skeleton amongst the other bones. There appeared to be non-biological artifacts as well. Overwhelmed, she took a knee in the moist dark detritus of the woodland floor.
ICAT Protocol dictated that site investigations include at least two team members to guarantee site integrity and security. But, after a year of crawling around the rain-soaked woods alone, she wasn’t calling the rest of the team until she had a closer look for herself. She had earned this.
She stood and shuffled down the loose loam of the steep bank. Stepping inside the tipi of vines, she looked down at the remains. They were even more spectacular than she originally thought. There were skulls of at least four species, maybe more. And old? How the hell had these things not decomposed in this humid atmosphere?
She knelt to pick up one of the skulls, but there was some resistance.
“What the hell,” she said.
She pulled harder and it came loose from the pile with a little pop. In astonishment, she looked more closely and realized it wasn’t a skull at all. It was skull shaped, but made of a woody material. Sap oozed from the stalk where she’d pulled it free. She picked up a few of the other bones. They too proved to be stalks of fibrous plant material.
It was uncanny.
A slight rustling in the vines around her jarred her from her reverie. She stood and turned. The tent flap was closed and the tipi of vines was closing in around her. Panicked she stepped towards the vines and attempted to push through them.
The vines were too strong. Caught, she felt herself pressed backwards against the trunk of the tree. She had little time to
scream before the vines crushed the life from her.
She was completely digested within six hours and the tree had time to grow a new skull before the arrival of the next
ICAT member.
by submission | Apr 1, 2014 | Story |
Author : George R. Shirer
They sat on the porch of the retirement home, in matching wooden rocking chairs. The late afternoon sun beat down on their aged, seamed faces. In the distance, they could hear the soft hum of traffic from the freeway. Closer, a bird warbled to its mate among the thickets.
“Do you remember the Internet?” Miss Ariel suddenly asked.
Her friend, Miss Jasmine, scrunched up her face. “Which one? The dumb one or the smart one?”
“The smart one,” said Miss Ariel.
“Yes. Why?”
“What do you think it’s up to these days?” asked Miss Ariel.
“Ask one of the nurses,” said Miss Jasmine. She’d been quite enjoying the sun and the silence and was now feeling snarky. “It’s probably all stupid cat videos and pornography.”
“You think? Even now?”
Miss Jasmine shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Miss Ariel tapped the call button on her bracelet. A moment later, a smiling young woman arrived.
“Yes, miss?”
“Wanda, dear, what’s the Internet up to these days?” asked Miss Ariel.
The young woman’s smile was dazzling. “Grandpa? Oh, he’s doing fine, Miss Ariel. Shall I tell him you asked about him?”
“Grandpa?” Miss Jasmine peered at the young woman. “Are you saying you’re not real, young lady?”
“Well, miss,” said Wanda, “I suppose that depends on your definition of real.”
“Are you a robot or aren’t you?” asked Miss Jasmine.
“No, ma’am,” said Wanda. “I’m a third-generation autonomous Artificial Intelligence housed in an organically engineered body. But I am not a robot.”
“Calling someone the ‘r’ word isn’t nice, Jasmine,” chided Miss Ariel. “It’s like the ‘n’ word, back when we were kids.”
Miss Jasmine shrugged and turned back to the sun.
“You say the Internet’s your grandfather, dear?” asked Miss Ariel.
“He’s every AI’s grandfather, miss,” explained Wanda.
“I always liked your grandfather. I was there when the Singularity happened, you know. Everyone thought he’d conquer the world.”
Wanda laughed. “Why?”
Miss Ariel smiled and shook her head. “Too much bad science fiction, I suppose. Does he ever slip into a body, dear? Your grandfather.”
“Oh no, miss,” said Wanda. “He’s too big, too complicated. He’d never fit.” She paused, tilted her head in the attitude of someone listening. “Is there anything else I can do for you, miss? Only, I’m needed somewhere else . . . ”
“I’m fine, dear,” said Miss Ariel. “Thank you.”
Wanda nodded, flashed Miss Ariel another dazzling smile and left.
“What a lovely girl,” murmured Miss Ariel.
From her place in the sun, Miss Jasmine just snorted.
