by submission | Dec 13, 2024 | Story |
Author: Clare Strahan
Pat had to turn the drone over, to get to the metal hatch door and unscrew the screws that fixed it to the body. What did the drone think of, when Pat wasn’t there? Did it remember the battlefield, the shrapnel and wounding, the fall into the ocean, the washing up on a strange shore? Should he show it the articles and reports? Could it read offline?
Do you think of home? Pat asked.
The drone rolled its eye towards him. Do you mean homing?
Don’t worry about it.
Am I incorrect?
Could a machine feel shame? Patrick recognised the shadow of it in the drone’s question. The hot-cold flush of embarrassment – like in spelling tests or comprehension questions. The sticky sweat and chill of failure. There was something he wasn’t understanding, and everyone would laugh as soon as they knew it. He was sure he saw it in the drone’s searching eye and couldn’t tell if the recognition made him happy or sad.
I hated school, Pat said. I spent lunchtimes hiding in the toilets or behind the library.
The drone swivelled its eye again. Didn’t anybody notice you were gone?
No.
Partially untethered, the drone’s leg flopped out, on the ground. Looking closer, Pat saw it wasn’t a leg it was a weapon. Some kind of gun. This was definitely the war drone Jeb had been talking about. The one that briefly blipped on the radar. That blip was Pat’s fault. A quick blip between waking it up and getting it offline. If the drone killed them all, that would be Pat’s fault too.
The air around the drone was buzzing. You weren’t very good at school. You weren’t very good at school.
But it wasn’t the drone speaking at all. It was Pat’s brother, Jeb, at dinner. Pat was still living at home with his parents and Jeb had just graduated as a doctor. You weren’t very good at school.
It wasn’t pity, exactly.
It was justification.
by submission | Dec 12, 2024 | Story |
Author: Trinity J. Choi
“W-who are you?”
Those were the three most painful words I’d heard my entire life.
“Someone who loves you dearly.” I responded, unable to control the slight crack in my voice. I could see my face shining back at me through her empty eyes. The reflection of a sister she doesn’t recognize. Hopefully she’ll live in blissful ignorance, bear children, build a new family, and die never knowing the truth that almost cost her her life.
“I’m sorry, I-I’m confused-” Vicki started to fully wake up, pushing herself up from laying on her back. Her gaze hovered from the tears illuminated by moonlight, streaming down my face to the trees that surrounded us. She stared eyes wide and mouth agape as she took in the unfamiliar environment she found herself in.
A cold wind blew, leaves rustled, and a chill ran down both our spines. Reaching out, I tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear and wrapped my cloak around her.
Vicki looked back up at me with her brows furrowed, but she glanced back between the trees once we heard the sound of shuffling footsteps grow closer. Bright white lights flickered as they enclosed us. We both squinted and her breathing became unsteady, lifting her hand to shield her eyes.
My head ached, I knew so much more than I had seconds before.
A loud voice boomed among the crowd of armed creatures: familiar but inhuman, deep and threatening.
“Vickaria the Kingslayer, you have been discovered. Obey and your people will live.” Vicki whipped her head around to look at me, her eyes wide with fear.
It’s too late for me to change my mind and run now.
Stumbling to my feet, I held my hands up in surrender. Sounds of cocking guns filled the quiet woods, further confirmation of how my story will end. If it is to be in her place, then so be it. “Vickaria isn’t the real Kingslayer, it’s me!”
“Ryana you have no involvement in the corruption within our Sky Castles. Vickaria is the leader of the rebellion. Turn her into us and we will continue to keep you and your colleagues safe while we return Earth to its former glory.” There was a murmur of agreement among the faceless crowd.
Smoke covered skies, oil filled rivers, and every animal but us wiped out of existence. We knew it was all a lie now, they’d probably just kill us all.
I glanced down at Vicki, she was running her fingers through the dying grass and feeling the dirt under her palms. She may not recognize it now, but she was willing to die for this place just minutes ago.
The piercing sound of Oli’s voice screaming the truth through everyone’s screens that day, suddenly came to mind. My head pounded, recollecting of the noise his throat made, slit as he fought and screamed to the very end.
It’s difficult to tell what memories are mine and hers. I’m starting to understand what it feels like to lose someone you love. I can’t imagine what she went through.
Vicki waved her hand to speak, “I-I really don’t know what’s going on! Please tell them! The last thing I remember is–”
I interjected before she could finish, “If you don’t think I’m telling the truth, check my memory! Yeah that’s right, I know you guys can do that!”
In the dark, the creatures exchanged glances. As far as they’re concerned, memory is the only true piece of evidence. I placed my hand on Vicki’s shoulder with a stern expression. The more she didn’t know, the safer she was. “Go on.” I prompted her.
“I don’t know how I got here and I’m not a Kingslayer! How do you know my name?!” She cried out, “Where am I?!”
There was a mumble amongst the crowd, confusion most likely. The owner of the intimidating voice stepped forward.
We finally got to see his true form, a tall and gruesome looking thing. With each step, it inched closer to us. I knelt down and wrapped my arms around Vicki, her shoulders rejecting my embrace. The self proclaimed ‘King’ stopped in its tracks just a few inches away.
“Do you know this woman?” It asked Vicki, a talon pointed in my direction. Covering half her face with my cloak, she shook her head violently. The King looked me over with a sharp toothed smile.
“Leave Vicki alone, and I’ll show you how I did it.” I whispered, quiet enough that only the three of us could hear. “Swear that you will use it to erase what she found and things can go back to the way they used to be.”
A simple exchange: my life for everyone else’s.
“What makes you think I’ll oblige?” the King asked, leaning closer. Vicki’s eyes darted back and forth as we spoke, curiosity getting the best of her yet again. I pulled the cloak further over her eyes. More flashes of memories, a younger version of myself tucking me into bed.
“It’s that or I turn and run right now, your men will kill me on the spot, and you’ll never know how to take people’s memories.” I spoke those last few words as quietly as I could, praying that Vicki couldn’t hear.
The King’s smile gradually turned downward. “Fine. As long as everything’s destroyed.” It kneeled to meet Vicki’s eyes. “Count yourself lucky, Kingslayer.”
With that, the King walked away. A wave of its talons, and a herd of creatures overcame us. Sharp claws pulled and tugged at us, forcing us to separate. It was instinct that forced me to cling onto her for dear life, “I love you..” I managed to blurt out, completely aware of how little it meant to her. But it meant everything to me.
Dragged away, I watched her form blend into the darkness. Letting out a sigh of relief, I closed my eyes and recalled her most recent memory, just before I stole it from her. Arguments, tears, and broken promises. I used her little discovery against her.
It’s my job to take responsibility, it has been since she was born. I just wish memories could be deleted instead of taken. I don’t want to die, but ‘as long as everything is destroyed’ means the truth can only disappear if it’s host does too.
by submission | Dec 11, 2024 | Story |
Author: Majoki
On Splinx, you have to follow the rules if you wanna break the law.
Rule 1: Phasespace is your friend.
Rule 2: In phasespace you have no friends.
Seems simple enough until you try to skirt the laws of thermodynamics and attempt the biggest heist in quantum gambling history. And Splinx, being the mecca of quantum gambling, is the only place to pull that off.
But, Splinx. Right?
Put Schrödinger in the box with his cat, then add Heisenberg and Kolmorogov, and you’d render a pretty good picture of how Splinx works.
Quasiprobability.
That was the problem. That was the opportunity. You never knew until you left Splinx and were light years from that funky phasespaced planet if you’d won or lost. If you were dead or alive.
Or both.
That’s how Mimi Mukta convinced me to go all in with her and rob the Royal Quark. Mimi, a phasespace diva, a quasiprobability savant, a brainiac beauty, hatched a plan to exploit extra-dimensionality and beat the house. Cheat heat death of its thermodynamic due. Grab the elemental bosons by the balls and squeeze them dry. She loves to gamble.
And by gambling Mimi means calculating. As in calculating quasiprobability.
That’s how Mimi determined the seed value, the initial condition, of phasespace. That’s how she was able to quantify life and death to a place value of 42. That’s how she persuaded me to be both dead and alive. To rely on phasespace. To trust her.
Remember the rules about breaking the law on Splinx? Do you see where this is going? Hindsight being a bitch and all that?
But, Splinx. Right?
The planet where nothing can be counted on was exactly why Mimi was so sure about uncertainty. Phasespace is all about position and momentum.
The where of what when.
In phasespace you are able to be both the heads and tails of a coin toss until the energy of that system is spent. And that can be calculated. That’s why a quantum casino like the Royal Quark had the edge. Until Mimi Mukta.
She learned how to fold phasespace—even though there’s not enough energy in the universe to do that. And stodgy thermodynamics delights in reminding us that, regardless of its form, the sum total of energy in the universe has to remain constant.
That didn’t stop Mimi. She just tapped into other universes. Syphoned off dark energy from the metaverse, thereby tilting Splinx’s quasiprobability in her favor.
Only she knew the new odds, and she could use them to rob the Royal Quark blind.
I bet you’d like to know how it turned out. If Mimi beat the house. Or got nabbed. Or betrayed me.
So would I.
Remember my role in this: to be both dead and alive in phasespace. Mimi needed to create a quantum crease to bend phasespace. That was my job. To be on both sides of existence, establishing the seam where only Mimi knew how reality could be neatly folded in her favor.
You see, we weren’t so much breaking the law on Splinx as fooling it.
Just like I was fooling myself. You can’t be both dead and alive. You can’t both love and trust Mimi Mukta.
The odds in any universe with her are not in your favor.
by submission | Dec 10, 2024 | Story |
Author: Don Nigroni
From my source, I knew there was a lot of debate concerning whether we should blow up that spacecraft before it got near Earth. It had suddenly and inexplicably appeared between Mars and Earth last night. It was obviously from another planet and might have been manned, but the fear was that, regardless, it could harbor viruses or bacteria or whatnot that could infect humans and perhaps wipe us out.
Fortunately, NASA was able to establish contact with it around noon while it was still beyond our Moon and warned the lone occupant not to enter cislunar space. I doubt that we were ever a real threat to that craft since their technology is way ahead of ours. I also suspect NASA knew that and was just hoping for the best. Anyway, the spaceship kept its distance.
I heard an explanation from my source around four o’clock about how we communicated, using English, with an alien who spoke a non-Indo-European, nay, non-human language. But I just kept nodding my head until she was finally done with her linguistic babble.
The point my source wanted to make was the same point the alien was trying to make, namely, the planet he came from had developed unimaginable powers due to orichalcum. That strange metal was discovered on one of their moons. They can detect and exploit things that are smaller than any of our subatomic particles within orichalcum which have these extraordinary properties.
Orichalcum technology allows them to travel faster than light through a third realm, neither physical nor spiritual, and to travel into the future, though they can’t return from the latter. It also gave their elite scientists the power to rule their solar system and then their galaxy. They soon expect to become Masters of the Universe. Otherwise, they fear that someday they’ll become slaves.
The envoy demanded we destroy all of our weapons: nuclear, biological, chemical and conventional. We should also unconditionally surrender our planet to him, whereupon he would spare Earth and rule our planet remotely from the Moon. Otherwise, he’d regretfully vaporize it entirely.
Our ultimatum was that he should immediately leave our solar system and never return.
My source was adamant, nay hysterical, that we should have accepted his terms. I wasn’t so sure at the time though, as I expected, he didn’t depart. But when Mars was dissolved that night, I had second thoughts.
Now I can’t sleep wondering what their position might just be concerning second chances. And I do consider that Mars exhibition to be a positive sign.
by submission | Dec 8, 2024 | Story |
Author: Jeremy Nathan Marks
The wind was wet.
It blew down from unseen heights and spread a damp veil across the plain. The soil, not accustomed to dampness, clotted. The surge in moisture caused large, segmented creatures with prolific legs to fall from the trees and lie twitching in the dirt. The trees, stunted, spiny, and bearing small waxy leaves, drooped in the wind. Their leaves yellowed, their arms darkened with rot, and their thorns fell to the ground. The trees seemed to melt.
For a week, the wind blew damp. The longer it blew, the more unstable the soil became. After a few days, it began to collapse and swallow the trees and lifeless creatures. By the end of the blowing week, no sign of the trees or creatures remained.
An Advance Team, looking down from orbit, congratulated themselves: their experiment was an unprecedented success. Now they could report back to their employer that the surface of Planet ΠΑ was barren. Extractive exercises would be permitted. The extraction protocol would be satisfied.
For the first time, an Advance Team had obliterated the life of a planet and left no evidence. In the past, fire was the weapon of choice. It scorched surfaces with inflammables and burned soil down to substrates. Then development would commence but somehow there was always a trace of the past for someone to discover. Often, there was an inspector or even a miner who felt aghast at their discovery and was compelled to report it. The company received a hefty fine and in some cases a demerit in its credit rating. Fire was not a foolproof plan for kickstarting development.
But this Advance Team tried water, and it worked. H₂O was a stroke of genius. They joked that it was a Gandhian weapon, a nonviolent but fatal technique delivered by a surprising source. Water made a thousand flowers bloom. A ship stocked with extensive water tanks was a ship bringing life to the galaxy. Planet ΠΑ required water; it deserved it. Who would gainsay that?
The Advance Team laughed at their audacity, toasted their success, and anticipated healthy bonuses which might allow them to retire from the field. They would be promoted to office jobs. Or they would become consultants, peddling their expert knowledge. They were smart people, businesspeople. They called themselves monetary engineers. Space was the most hostile frontier in existence, a place of pluck. And pluck is what they had proved to have.
While they celebrated, the surface of ΠΑ continued to clot. When a dry wind returned, it gathered no dust. The absence of granules led to scouring breezes that cleared the atmosphere. The clotted soil hardened and was burnished by the wind. The process happened remarkably quickly. When the sky turned pellucid, ΠΑ ceased to be a dull and cloudy detergent color. Now it shone across the distances like a pearl. Observers young and old discovered ΠΑ, and some of those discoverers were enterprising.
On the third day of their bacchanalia, the Advance Team received a call that boomed over their intercoms.
‘Did you deploy a flag?’ a steely voice asked.
There was a pause.
‘I assume from your silence you did not.’
‘No, sir.’
‘You will descend to the surface immediately and deploy a flag.’
‘Sir? We are not equipped-‘
The intercom cut out.
For several minutes, the team sat around looking confused. Confused and inebriated. No one could form a complete thought. Their orbital presence was known only to their employer. They had not brought a flag. They did not possess a working landing craft. The craft they did possess lacked enough fuel to land on ΠΑ and return to orbit. No preparations had been made for any landing on ΠΑ. Moreover, claims were an office matter. They involved filing papers with special seals and codes and clearances.
‘One of us will die.’
‘Who’s going to die? None of you gets to make that decision.’
‘You don’t get to make that decision.’
‘None of us will make that decision!’
One member of the Advance Team went to a view finder and studied the surface of ΠΑ. She began to curse softly to herself. A colleague heard her and came over to look at what she saw. When he saw it he, too, began cursing. For several minutes, each team member took turns. They shook their heads. They gaped at their work.
‘Well, we just won’t do it.’
‘Of course we will. If we don’t, we have no port to dock in.’
‘A burn notice?’
‘A burn notice. Yes.’
The group was silent a moment.
‘How ironic,’ one of the team members said, removing a lighter from his pocket.
Several other team members gasped and someone lunged for the small device. The man held it back, high above his head. He stood up.
‘This would end our troubles.’
‘Why do you have that on you?!’
The man smiled. ‘I don’t know. I stowed it in my things. These few days, all I’ve really wanted is to set my drink on fire. Is that so odd? How better to celebrate a great success than lighting your drink on fire?’
‘Thank God you didn’t!’ One of the women said.
‘Thank God I didn’t. . .’ the man smirked. ‘We’ve just enjoyed the greatest achievement of our lives. Think of the discovery we’ve made. The money we’ve saved. The frontiers we’ve opened. We’re legendary. And yet . . .’ The man studied the lighter for a moment. ‘And yet, I can’t light my own drink on fire. We’re given a burn notice, and I can’t use my own lighter. We squirt a planet with water and I can’t even smoke a cigarette.’
