by submission | Feb 19, 2015 | Story |
Author : Bob Newbell
General Vlank walked along the corridor toward the Research and Development Lab, his motors whirring quietly with each step. Quietly, but perhaps not as quietly as they once did. He’d been neglecting routine maintenance. A lot of the High Command had as the war dragged on. Sometimes, standing in his recharge alcove at night, he wondered if the conflict would ever end. Day after day, the damage and deactivation lists kept growing. It seemed like the whole world was becoming an enormous junkyard.
Finally, Vlank reached the lab and entered. “Lieutenant,” he said, “make it fast. I have a very important meeting to–” Vlank ceased talking the moment he saw…it. The thing was roughly shaped like a person: it had arms and legs, a torso, and a head. But its housing was some strange, pale, elastic material. White glistening globules were where visual sensors would normally reside. Twin cavities on the undersurface of a protrusion on the thing’s face dilated and contracted slightly; this bizarre movement appeared to correspond to a rhythmic expansion and contraction of the thoracic region. And under the protrusion where one would expect a vocalizer was a horizontal linear gash in whatever it was that covered the surreal being.
“What,” Vlank asked, “is that?”
“That, General,” said Lieutenant Nelk, “is what’s going to bring this war to an end.”
“It’s a machine of some sort?”
“Yes, General. But it’s like no other machine that’s ever existed. Look at these schematics.”
Nelk showed Vlank images of the thing’s internal structure and video records of how it worked. Vlank looked on in amazement at the depiction of a weird soft pump in the device’s thorax pushing fluid through tiny flexible pipes throughout the body of the creature.
“What are those bag-like structures in the thorax?” asked Vlank.
“Those respiration units deliver atmospheric oxygen to the nutritive fluid to help power the drone.”
“Drone?”
“Drone, General. That’s what it is. We’ve built this experimental prototype from the molecular level up.”
Vlank poked the thing with an extended finger. The surface was firm but yielding, somewhat like rubber.
“It seems rather flimsy.”
“Oh, yes, General. It’s made of organic compounds. It’s less sturdy than a person. And it would be utterly vulnerable to projectile weapons. But it has no electronic components. Even its processor” — Nelk gestured at the thing’s head — “employs an organic cellular network and a purely electrochemical process for cognition.”
Vlank studied the odd creation. “So, it’s not alive?”
“No, of course not, General. ‘Organic life’ would be a contradiction in terms. We 3D printed the drone’s flesh layer upon layer.
“Flesh?” said Vlank quizzically.
“FLexible Electrochemical SHeets. ‘Flesh,’ for short,” explained Nelk. “Surely you see the tactical advantage? Fire from electromag rifles would have no effect on the drone’s organic processor. You could detonate an EMP bomb right next to the thing and the same EM pulse that would kill both of us would do nothing to it!”
Vlank was impressed. “When can I see a demonstration?” he asked.
“Next week, sir,” Nelk responded.
Vlank nodded and walked out of the lab. As he strode to his staff meeting, he imagined squadrons of organic drones storming enemy positions, totally invulnerable to EM field ordnance. Why, he thought, organics could even be equipped with EM pulse generator vests like those the enemy’s suicide bombers have used to spread terror. And the drone would be totally unharmed and could continue to operate.
Somehow, Vlank noted, the world seemed somewhat less grim. After the meeting, I might even stop off for a little maintenance, he thought.
by submission | Feb 18, 2015 | Story |
Author : Gray Blix
“The universe is holographic? Surely you’re joking.”
“I am not joking, Dr. Feynstein. But I did not say THE universe. I said YOUR universe. Your universe is a simulation. Pay attention. There is not much time.”
The young man appeared jittery in the flickering light. Feynstein glanced at the overhead fluorescent fixture.
“OK. You’ve obviously wandered into the wrong building. This is Physics. Science fiction would be in English, across the quad.” Offering a campus map, “Or maybe you’re looking for Psychology? Student Counseling?”
“Shake my hand, professor,” the man said, extending it across the desk.
“I’m not touching you.” Pointing the map toward the open doorway, “Please leave. Now.”
“Just shake it. Then if you want me to leave I will do so immediately.”
The man went out of focus momentarily. An intriguing thought crossed Feynstein’s mind. He attempted to touch the man’s hand with the map, but it went right through. He swiped through the hand several more times.
“What the– You’re a hologram.” Slumping into his chair, “And not a very good one.”
“A crude avatar, so we could talk. For the record, Dr. Feynstein, would you agree that whatever flaws there are in the simulation of your universe, they have not interfered with the development of human civilization?”
“Huh?” Looking around his office, “Look, I don’t know how you’re projecting a hologram, but that doesn’t prove we’re in a holographic universe.”
Pointing to a laptop, “One of your colleagues is remote observing through the Gran Telescopio in the Canary Islands. Bring up the VPN.”
Feynstein logged in.
“What do you see?”
“WR 104. Could go supernova at any time. Dr. Gambel is trying to determine if the gamma ray burst is likely to hit Earth.”
“If Earth took a direct hit, what effect would it have on life?”
“It would cause a mass extinction.”
“Well then, fortunately for you, I am erasing WR 104 from the simulation.”
The star disappeared, leaving its larger binary companion strangely unaffected. Feynstein could neither speak nor breathe.
Finally, he gasped, “The other star, make it disappear.”
It disappeared.
“You’re just messing with the video feed.”
“In a few hours it will be dark enough here for me to take you outside and make more stars disappear, or entire galaxies and constellations, but I think you already know I am telling the truth.”
The phone rang and seconds later people ran past the door in the direction of Dr. Gambel’s office.
A graduate student poked his head in, said, “Dr. Gambel says he needs you right away,” and joined the others.
“So, I am a hologram?” Looking at a picture on his desk, “My wife and daughter? Everyone on Earth? Why?”
“You and they are what passes for ordinary matter according to the laws of your physics. But you are in a simulated universe.”
“But why did you do this? And why tell me?”
“You have always been skeptical that dark matter and dark energy make up 96 percent of the universe. You’re right, of course. I botched some of the physics.”
“But…”
“And you wrote a paper on the possibility that your universe is holographic, although I know you were not serious, Dr. Feynstein. You were just poking holes in quantum theory.”
“But…”
“And now you’re about to begin that Holometer study. It could ruin everything.”
“WHY?”
“You stood out from the others, Dr. Feynstein. You deserve to know the truth before I wrap up the experiment.”
Another intriguing thought crossed Feynstein’s mind. And again he was correct.
“My graduate thesis in anthropology depends on this simulation not being discovered by its subjects.”
by submission | Feb 17, 2015 | Story |
Author : Cliff Cymrot
I once thought living forever was a gift. We all did. At first it was the rich and affluent that benefited from nanobots (bots); those impossibly complex micro-machines. They cured disease, maintained proper hormone levels, repaired damage, even healed wounds so fast that blood was kept from bleeding out (heaven knows I’ve tried). Finally, they repaired telomeres; those ends of chromosomes that gets shorter with each cell division which is the cause for aging. Immortality, achieved at the tiny hands of mechanical bots coursing through the veins of humans. After several hundred years the technology was produced at a price everyone could afford, unfortunately. Bots were then passed from mother to child, reaching all of humanity.
(I lift the shovel)
At first no one realized how society would be drastically changed. After accidents no longer killed people, or time, society cast off currency, crime, and violence. There was no need for such things anymore. After 500 years of living, who cared about petty arguing, theft, or acquiring as-seen-on-TV rubbish. The world was heaven. No more death, no more suffering. This was gratefully accepted, at first…
(I shovel some dirt)
It didn’t take long, perhaps the first thousand years or so, before immortality began wearing on the individual. Life was empty without the prospect of change. That’s when the rebellion occurred. No one really remembers the exact date but it did start somewhere in France. Someone decided living for 800 years wasn’t that appealing anymore and stepped in front of a car. Their broken body lay there lifeless, long enough for those around to see breathing had ceased. And then it happened, the body convulsed, the sound of bones realigning and lungs filling with air emanated from the human. They were alive. Amazingly enough, instead of this causing reassurance, fear spread like wildfire. For the first time in eons humans realized something precious was taken from them, freedom.
(I continue shoveling)
Soon, tens of thousands attempted all manner of scenarios from jumping off the side of buildings to ingesting household cleaners. Each time the person recovered, with less time between the cessation of bodily activities and normal functionality. This continued until the rebellion terminated. Nanotechnology is remarkably resilient and adaptive. The bots saw our attempts at self-injury as something that needed to be fixed and inhibited that part of our gray matter that desired such foolishness. We became unable to end the game we created. Every time someone tried, they were immediately restrained from continuing in thought, their body would just not listen and even the desire would dissipate. Though bots can’t stop all desire, I’m proof of that.
(I watch as dirt piles up)
We are prisoners of heaven. No one has attempted to cease human function in ages. But I know we are all thinking it. I know the topic on the tip of everyone’s tongue. I know the secret desire of every last human being even if we can’t act on it. I also know the answer. See, the bots have a simple code they live by, to protect their human from harm. So no one is able to harm themselves if the thought is to end their life. However, they seem completely unable to stop someone else from doing it. And that’s when I came up with a way to save humanity.
(I pat down the dirt. One place for the head, another for the rest of the body. The bots can’t fix that).
One down, 10 billion to go. Good thing I have all the time in the world.
by submission | Feb 15, 2015 | Story |
Author : Rob Sharp
‘What the hell!’
A dozen pairs of eyes turned to glare at Jerry. A little black dot on the front page indicated that question seven, the question he was halfway through, had been altered. He read it again; it was different.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled and hunkered back into his chair. The rest of the students got back to their papers. Jerry knew that there was a slim possibility that the questions in the exam could change; the warning on the front of the paper was clear:
‘In the event of a discovery in the field you are being assessed, changes will be made to the examination to reflect current scientific consensus.’
Damn.
Jerry turned the paper over in his hands. While it was an impressive bit of kit, it didn’t quite have a 180 degree viewing angle, so when he held it side on the type wasn’t clear. It was thin and light, he had to give it to them, and it felt just like paper.
What a waste, he thought. Jerry rubbed his answer sheet, confirmed his pin and removed his workings to question seven, all useless. He cursed the names of the scientists publishing today, the examiners who had to change the tests and the politicians who thought it was a good idea ‘to ensure we aren’t teaching our kids obsolete information.’ Jerry would rather have been wrong for a lifetime than answer that question again.
A black dot appeared next to question four. About half of the room audibly crumpled. At least Jerry was ahead of the game, he thought, before realising he’d have to redo that one too.
Some days it didn’t pay to get out of bed.
by submission | Feb 14, 2015 | Story |
Author : Bob Newbell
I’m gonna make it, I think to myself as my ship streaks past the Asteroid Belt. Only a few small colonies in the outer solar system. Soon I’ll be safely in the Oort Cloud. It’s a good place to lay low until the heat’s off. Probably need to hang out there for a couple of standard years.
I look back at my cargo. Quark matter. The sample I acquired is no larger in volume than a human cell yet it masses nearly 1,000 kilograms. In an era when everyone has a matter compiler, the theft of material objects is a rare and basically unnecessary crime. Quark matter is an exception. The microscopic quantity I obtained is worth half-a-trillion credits.
An alarm sounds. Proximity sensor. I am being pursued. Martian Republic police, most likely. I’ve planned for this eventually. I put a lot of money into outfitting my ship with a custom-built quantum impeller drive. I smile and tap a few controls. The pursuing ship recedes behind me. Thirty seconds later, the other ship is once again gaining on me. Not MR police, then. Their ships aren’t this fast. A Solar Alliance cruiser? I increase speed.
Another alarm. Time dilation alert. Quantum impulsion drive is kind of like the “warp drive” in ancient science fiction. Your ship is surrounded by a bubble of spacetime and it’s the bubble, not your ship per se, that moves through space. As a result, you don’t feel any acceleration. But QI drive can’t shield your ship — or you — from the relativistic effects of time dilation. I’m at 25 percent of the speed of light. At that speed, for every minute that passes for a relatively stationary observer, only 58 seconds pass for me. By virtue of my velocity, I’m moving more slowly through time.
The other ship starts closing in on me. Definitely Solar Alliance. He must have been in orbit around Mars to have caught up to me this quickly. The SA are famous for their unwavering persistence when chasing a suspect. I’m afraid this particular officer will have to remember me as the one that got away. I push my ship faster. As I pass 0.867c the time dilation readout moves to 2.00679. Time is passing twice as fast in the outside universe as it is in my quantum impulse field. Again, the police ship momentarily falls behind but quickly catches up and starts closing in again.
It’s time to put an end to this game of cat and mouse. I set my ship to continuous acceleration. At 0.999c my time dilation readout stands at 22.36627. For every minute that passes back at the research facility on Mars from which I stole my cargo, only 2.682 seconds pass within my ship. Impossibly, my pursuer is managing to keep up with me.
At 0.999999999935c, more than a day passes outside my ship for every tick of the second hand inside it. And still the cop is after me. My ship begins to shudder violently. I keep pushing the speed. The ship’s velocity maxes out at 0.999999999999999998c. After a subjective minute of travel at that speed, over 1,000 years have passed on the outside. Would my cargo be of any value to anyone now even if I managed to make a getaway? Does humanity as I knew it even still exist?
In the moments before my ship disintegrates around me, my sensor display shows the pursuing ship is also coming apart. What justice did he hope to achieve after this long? Did he leave behind a family? Why did he do it?
