by submission | Dec 5, 2014 | Story |
Author : Feyisayo Anjorin
When I was a child growing up in Akure, surrounded by hills and tall trees, and green fields, I believed the book of genesis. The first book of the bible was said to be about the beginning of everything. The first things, the newness, the freshness, the revelation. If life indeed has an end, the beginning must be like the morning of it.
We know a lot about beginnings in this place. A beginning of growth, a beginning of rot, an iroko tree could fall for the need of a power; flowers bloom in their time and wither. We know those mornings of rosy dreams and bright flags, when we were drunk on hope, when we were certain of our reason to believe the best.
There was a time when Africa was reborn; a new Africa from the ruins of slave trade, colonialism, and apartheid. Like a baby, and later like a child, we had our excuses. And we could be excused. The misunderstanding of the differing tribes and tongues could cause wars and start fires; we followed our rulers slavishly while children starved and became skeletons, and vultures waited, looking down, waiting for our dead.
We were poor because of the white man’s oppressive system that we hope to change. Soon change is coming. Soon. We were sure.
Now we’ve gone a hundred years into the twenty first century life. Akure, Calabar, Mangaung, Monrovia, Gweru, wherever; we are all Africans because we can still count our giant trees and green fields. We still have a home for lions, and monkeys, and rhinos, and rats, and bats. We have a home for them without needing zoos. Not everybody is as fortunate. All some people have now are videos and pictures of “wildlife”. Sorry for mentioning that word; but this is Africa.
Maybe we are not really behind because we still have to import almost everything needed to be twenty first century savvy.
And then this issue of the law enforcement robots. It doesn’t bother me one bit. The police were a mess before them. There was a time some terrorists abducted over two hundred teenage girls in Chibok and it took the army over a year to get them back. Happy young girls; innocent and vulnerable. Some came back with babies, some pregnant, some came back with HIV and STDs; they had all been raped. They were all scarred for life.
The law enforcement robots were imported two years ago. To be sincere, I’m baffled by their human rights records because of their slavish dedication to the law. I’m not happy that the tossed the most revered Yoruba monarch into the car trunk. I’m against the injury inflicted on those alleged to be resisting arrests. I believe they do issue too many speed fines. They need to put a human face on these things.
But you can see clear signs of sanity here! There was a time when the law meant nothing to government officials and to citizens. It was chaos and we were getting too attached to lawlessness; which was toxic!
This is Africa and our peculiar problems need drastic solutions and adjustments.
The law enforcement robots of Africa have now been programmed to shoot dead any African head of state that tries to go beyond the term of office.
I was glad to hear it as the sun rose this morning on Radio Alalaye while sipping palm wine by the window. I waited there, listening to the online analysis on the benefits and ills.
I got more palm wine. This is just a beginning.
by submission | Dec 4, 2014 | Story |
Author : Michael Hughes
Commander Gareth released the locks on the landing shuttle’s doors and took in the view as they opened to reveal a barren landscape.
This wasn’t what they had seen from orbit. Both the Columbia’s sensors and their own eyes had deceived them. There was nothing to indicate that the lush forests and oceans that appeared to have covered the planet had ever even existed here. There was no debris, no decaying plant life, not even a puddle. The shuttle’s sensors detected no trace of water vapor in the atmosphere. Where had it all gone?
Gareth called to Lieutenant Karena, the lead biologist.
“What do you make of this, Lieutenant?”
“I can’t say. There isn’t even a hint of what we saw from orbit. Even if there had been forests and oceans here, I should have seen trace amounts of organic matter in the atmosphere and the soil. Based on what we have found here, I can only hypothesize that no life of any kind has here for several centuries.”
“What did we see from orbit then?”
Gareth leaned back inside the shuttle and ordered Sergeant Ballast to contact the Columbia. He wanted to know what their readings said now. If they were still reading a planet filled with life, perhaps they were on the receiving end of some elaborate deception. For what purpose, he couldn’t say.
“Commander, I’m not getting any signal from the ship.”
“Try broadcasting on all frequencies, and try again in 15 minutes. It’s possible they’re on the far side of the planet.”
Gareth and Karena ventured farther from the shuttle while waiting for the response. They noticed a small hill not far from the landing site and made their way towards it, hoping to get a better view of their surroundings which might give a clue into the mystery of this barren world.
“Commander, still no response from the ship.”
“Acknowledged. We’re just reaching the hill. We’ll take a look here and then head back to the shuttle.”
As Gareth reached the summit, he froze in his tracks.
Not 100 meters on the other side of the hill lay a crash site. It was ancient.
“Karena, get over here! We didn’t pick up anything on the sensors did we?”
“No sir. No advanced alloys, no energy signatures, nothing that would indicate any technology of any kind. Not even wreckage.”
Gareth contacted Ballast and ordered him to bring the shuttle near the crash site as he and Karena made their way towards it.
“Maybe this has something to do with the discrepancies with what we saw from orbit,” Karena suggested. “Could it have been projecting false readings?”
“But that wouldn’t explain what we saw with our own eyes! Even on the shuttle descent, we didn’t see anything change until we came through that cloud!”
As they approached the wreckage, a sense of familiarity washed over them. The angles of the bulkheads and the markings on the hull were all too recognizable. Gareth and Karena were both thinking it, but neither of them said a word.
Ballast came over the comm as the shuttle passed the hill.
“Commander, I’m picking up the ships transceiver signal. It’s coming from the wreckage. There are also massive amounts of radiation coming from the reactor core.”
Karena spoke up.
“Commander, my readings indicate this wreckage is over 1000 years old. It couldn’t be…” She stopped mid-sentence as she made out the letters on the hull.
“…U.S.S. Columbia.”
“Lietenant, get to the shuttle and start unpacking the emergency supplies. We may be here for a while.”
by submission | Dec 3, 2014 | Story |
Author : JT Gill
Dad shuffled around the kitchen in his bathrobe slamming cabinet doors so hard they bounced back open. His muttering was punctuated with little crescendos each time something banged closed.
The roar of the shuttle could be heard from outside, though greatly muffled. Still, this only added to his garish business of making pancakes. I stood in the doorway, watching.
“You’ve known you can’t stay here forever,” I said.
“Why not?” He shouted over his shoulder, mixing a bowl of batter vigorously. Little flecks spewed everywhere. “You can’t make me move.”
I through my hands up in exasperation. “Dad, we’re done here. It’s time to go. Besides, Mom would have wanted you to move.”
He stopped whisking and turned to face me. Dots of batter had spumed into his eyebrows.
“How would you know what she would have wanted?” He hissed. The bowl and whisk were still in his hands.
“I knew Mom a lot more than you think I did.”
“You left us, James,” he shouted again. “Left us here alone while you made a name for yourself out in ‘the real world.’” He jabbed at me with the whisk, dripping globs onto the kitchen floor.
“Dad.”
“No. You wanted what you wanted to do. You didn’t care about us. That’s it. And you did it, congratulations, you did. The earth is round, and it can’t support us anymore. I know. My genius scientist son proved that to us all at least.” He spread his arms wide and waved them around. “Too bad he wasn’t even here when his own mother died.”
“You know that wasn’t my fault,” I yelled. “You know I was stuck up there. Dad, I was overseeing the facility that you will be living on.”
“The moon mansion,” he scoffed. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going up there.”
He began to stir what was left in the bowl, turning his back on me. There was a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I snuck two fingers into my pocket, pinching the pen-like object pressed against my thigh.
“You’re wrong, by the way,” he said, pausing. “She would have wanted me to stay.”
“No,” I said, walking up behind him. “She wouldn’t have.”
I pulled the syringe all the way out and jammed it into the base of his neck. The bowl of batter fell from his hands with a dull, metallic donk and rattled quiet as he struggled, but the sedative was fast-acting. After two jerks, he slumped against me like a limp noodle.
Gently, I eased him to the floor.
I whispered in his ear, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s all right, Dad. We’re going to live up there together.”
I stood, tossed the syringe in the sink and walked back outside.
Outside, the gusts from the shuttle whipped my hair straight back as I stepped onto the front porch. Two men in uniform stood at the base of the stairs. I slid a pair of sunglasses on.
“He’s in the kitchen,” I shouted over the roar of the engines. “Bring him out and we’ll be on our way.”
They jogged past me into the house.
“And be gentle,” I called after them.
I pushed my way through the squalls from the shuttle out onto the lawn. The grass whipped back and forth.
I looked up. Though it was a sunny day, the faint circle of an outline could be seen against the pale blue sky up above.
It almost looked like a pancake, I thought, ready to eat.
END
by submission | Nov 30, 2014 | Story |
Author : Curtis Brown
“What was that?” The Sheriff turned his head to one of his deputies after they heard a low rumble somewhere outside.
“Deputy, go check that out, I will handle this.” The Sheriff turned his head back to his prize: a short young man with a burnt-orange full length trench coat, spiked brown hair, and a pair of black goggles on his forehead. He sat across from the Sheriff in the tiny bright interrogation room with a little smirk on his face, and checked his watch.
“What, you got plans, kid? No, you don’t. Not anymore.” The Sheriff went on, smugly. “Stowing away on an interplanetary transport is one thing, but the Federation of Space Faring Nations does not tolerate theft aboard its ships.”
The Sheriff thought he hid his excitement well. On this space station, there was never this kind of action. He would hold the kid captive here, along with the evidence, to await the FSFN Marshals while the transport went on to its destination. The Sheriff would get a bonus for sure for his assistance in this, and if he got the kid to talk and spill something else, maybe even a promotion. The kid made it too easy. He still had that stupid smirk on his face. He would have almost felt sorry if it wasn’t for that smirk.
“You never had a chance kid. Even if you successfully grabbed the nano-processors there was no way off the transport. What were you thinking?” The Sheriff asked, probing for information.
“I was thinking, Sheriff, that it would be much easier to retrieve the nano-processors out of the evidence hold on a two-bit space station than off of a federal transport.” The kid stood up.
BOOM!
They heard a small explosion, seemingly just down the hall. The kids smirk turned into a full fledged smile, and the Sheriff stood up to face the kid.
“What was that? Where do you think you are going?” The Sheriff asked as the kid stepped towards the door,now confused and angry.
“That, my very perceptive Sheriff, is my ride. I’m leaving this piece of junk you call a space station.” The kid responded. The Sheriff was not pleased, but he heard the door open and was relieved.
“Deputy, cuff this kid, and take him to a cell.” The Sheriff commanded confidently.
“Excuse me?” Asked a rough voice.
The Sheriff turned toward the door and saw a portly man, dressed similarly to the kid, except balding and without goggles. The Sheriff did not know what to say.
“Its about time, Finley. You’re late. This guy almost cracked me.” The kid said as he pointed to his watch.
“The transport lingered. Come, the others have the cargo, lets go kid.” Finley lifted a pistol to the Sheriff’s face and smiled. “I trust you won’t mind letting our friend here go? Good, thats what I thought.”
The kid and Finley left the room. The Sheriff stood dumbfounded, and the only thing he could say, to no one in particular, was, “Well, there goes my bonus.”
by submission | Nov 29, 2014 | Story |
Author : Ian Hill
The day’s outlook was bright as my father woke me up with a smile on his facing, saying that it was finally time to visit the holy city. So it was that we hastily underwent our morning rhythm with a great deal of fevered haste. We, my father and I, boarded the luxurious royal train replete with yellow carpet and finely crafted oak furniture emblazoned with crushed velvet. Everything was decorated with faint translucency, almost as if nearly invisible substructures sat underneath the surface of every material on the immaculate train. It was a wonder to behold, a creation of the church’s most revered officials.
There were others on the train, taking the same pilgrimage as us. Like me, they were children accompanied by their white-clad parents. An odd pall of worry had settled over a few of the church officials that patrolled the train’s various cars. I, however, was excited for the prospect of finally beholding the glorious splendor of this legendary city that had been put on a pedestal of perfection for my whole life. Others had told me it was as if a segment of heaven had descended down to bless the scorched human reality below. The city shimmered gold as its rich banners snapped in the cold, infectious wind.
I gazed to my side, looking out the window and at the field of decay beyond. The train cut a clean path through the tract of ruined vegetation, leaving a billowing trail of searing heat in its wake. We passed by partially melted deserts, calcified remains of sea creatures from an evaporated ocean, and great prairies dotted with massive impact craters. Tooth-like metal structure jutted out of the purpled ground, too geometric to be natural but too marred to be recognizable. It too was a wonder to behold.
The voyage was progressing as it did everyday for a different set of inductees, but something was wrong. The firmament wasn’t obscured by the haze of smog that plagued the world. The sky was clear, sharp, and tinged with natural color. I marveled up at the wide plain of blue that seemed to bubble and swirl with life. Puffy wisps of radioactive material roiled as they dissipated into nothingness.
My father leaned over my seat and glanced out the window, his expression a mask of fear and confusion. A sharp cry echoed through the train as the lead engineer slammed on the brakes. The unpleasant noise of metal grating on metal sent tremors of discomfort through the bright-eyed pilgrims. Something odd was happening.
The train system was broken from its endless routine as the massive chugging machinery of the church faltered in response to the looming anomaly that descended from the heavens to meet the cowering people below. I covered my ears as a side door opened, letting in a rush of sickeningly clean air. Never before had I breathed such purity so deeply. My lungs were unfamiliar with the untainted oxygen, causing me to cough violently as my troubled father rose to his feet.
Gradually, we funneled out of the train and onto the landscape beyond. This marked the first time I had stepped foot in a realm not constructed by man. The ground was soft and flexile, almost as if it had been assembled by the almighty hand of randomness instead of the cold calculation of the church’s machine efficiency.
My father gripped my shoulders and tried to push me back into the train as we heard the voice rumble across the terrain and permeate our very psyches. I resisted, knowing that this was important. This was what we had been waiting for. The church officials collapsed to the ground in reverence, smelling the sweet rot of the irradiated landscape as the fresh air released its toxins into the burning atmosphere.
The other children and I remained standing, gazing up into the lacerated firmament where he reached down from his holy realm. For the first time, our eyes truly opened and we saw the being that our whole lives had been devoted to. The church cried out in terror as their synthetic prophet manifested into reality, breaking their widespread reign of endless paranoid prayer.
