by submission | Nov 29, 2010 | Story
Author : Make Penmarche
“Isn’t it just lovely, Jenm?” Mary pulled her sunhat off and tossed her hair in the sea breeze. “It’s nothing like home!”
“Jim. It’s Jim.” He glanced at her, then turned back to watching the crowd. “Keep slipping up like that, and someone will hear you. You’ll draw attention.”
Mary laid her hand on his arm and smiled. “You’re right, darling. I’m sorry, it’s just, I’m so happy!”
He smiled back. “It is lovely.” Raising his glass to her, he said, “A toast! To life!”
“To a life worth living!” She downed the glass in one gulp, and held it out for more, giggling. A shadow fell across the table as he refilled her glass. As he paused, the stranger spoke.
“Hey there! There’s a happy couple!” He pulled over a chair. “Mind if I join you?”
Jim stood and held out his hand. “N…no, of course not!” He grinned nervously. “Jim. This is my wife, Mary.”
Mary fidgeted with a lock of hair as the men shook hands. “Pleasure to meet you both. Name’s David.” He sat, and gestured for Jim to do the same. “Where ya from?”
Jim sat, his chair just out from the table. “Oh, uh, we just flew in yesterday, from America.”
“Oh? On the honeymoon, eh?” David flagged a waiter. “Bring me a Mai Tai, would’ja?”
“No, ah, no, been married a while. Kind of a second honeymoon, I guess.” He chuckled, trying to conceal his nerves. “Just a little vacation, you know? Get away from the winter cold, for a bit.” He lifted his empty glass to his lips before he realized what he was doing.
David smiled as the waiter set down his drink. “So, how’re you enjoying your stay in Cancun so far?”
Mary chimed in. “Oh, it’s so great, don’t you know? The people are so nice, and the weather…”
David interrupted her, leaning in. “And you’re obviously enjoying your stay in the Twentieth Century, folks, quite a lot.” He flashed a badge at them. “Given you didn’t make your pick-up.”
Jim crumpled in his chair. “How’d you know? We were so careful.”
David sipped his drink. “The Regency’s been doing this a while, Jenm. But you know that already, don’t you?”
“So, you overheard us?”
“No, nothing like that. Everyone thinks they’re so careful. To be honest, I wasn’t even remotely sure until I came over.” He set the empty glass down. “Man, you just don’t get stuff this good anymore, no?” He stood, dropping bills on the table. “It’s the little things, you know? You tourists always miss the little things.”
“Yes, but…” Jim’s eyes pleaded.
“The trousers, man!” David reached down and eased the fabric at his knees. “The fabric doesn’t stretch. You didn’t account for that when you sat down.”
by submission | Nov 28, 2010 | Story
Author : N. Thomas Parshall
The world blinked and Martin found himself surrounded by a wide plaza filled with people in odd clothing. Time travel to the future worked and Martin had discovered it.
Seventeen years of work, and now I’m standing one-hundred years in my own future, he thought. And in fifteen minutes retrieval will take me home.
He glanced around himself, and found a small plaque his feet in an odd alphabet. No doubt he had arrived at some form of landmark.
Martin set off to explore his future world. He tried to ask for directions from a young woman walking with her daughter.
“Non caba, miso.” was all he received in reply.
To every question he asked of anyone, it was always the same. “Non caba, miso”, or occasionally, “Que oka, miso”.
Time was running out.
On impulse, he pulled a marker he had carried through time with him and scrawled “Martin was Here!” on the face of a building.
The world blinked.
* * *
The Proctor asked mommy lots of questions about the strange man.
Did we know what the strange man had written on the wall?
Did we know what the strange man was saying?
Did we see who moved the statue.
Did we see where the strange man came from?
The last one mommy could answer, but the Proctor didn’t believe her.
Before we went home, I asked mommy to read me the words at the bottom of the statue the ‘bot‘s were moving back.
“This man (name unknown) discovered the unstable radiation that allows PERMA-SLEEP. Legend says that every One-Thousand years he will awaken for a few moments.”
* * *
The world blinked and Martin found himself surrounded by a wide plaza filled with people in odd clothing.
by submission | Nov 27, 2010 | Story
Author : Martin Berka
Nothing about hell could be pleasant, and that included departure, but joy matched pain. Slowly, my consciousness was drifting through the wires. A thought or a memory would drift away from the others, accelerating, then slowing. More would follow, and thus my tired, rippling self moved along. It seemed to take forever, but hell does strange things to your sense of time.
The body, a blank synthetic, was waiting for me. The brain was a mass of undefined elements, slowly molding into cells and connections as my file – my mind – moved in, piece by conscious piece. It looked like the file was being accepted as-is. Would they modify a soul directly?
I’m solid again. Machinery rolls away behind me with a quiet squeal, but since I’m seated in a straightjacket-chair, it doesn’t look like I’m free just yet.
Aside from a short, unassuming man seated in an armchair, the room is empty. I’ve seen his type before – scientist, minister, and bureaucrat, all rolled into one. Clearly, things have changed less than I hoped.
“Congratulations on finishing your sentence,” he says, and he means it.
“What happens now?” I feel pressured, but given the mod, it makes sense.
“You’ve suffered for all wrongs done during your life, so we are transferring you to the heaven system. However, we do have one question. You were in hell for over a century, and the experience is much longer on the inside. That makes you one of the first entrants, and we have no record of what led to your sentence.”
I think back several lifetimes, while keeping up the tension. “I was a neural engineer. When the war started, I joined the Luddites. I felt it’d all gone too far… Anyway, I killed, and I had no regrets back then. Most of my unit was killed, and I surrendered.”
The three-in-one isn’t surprised, barely even reacts. “And the Trial Unit was beta-testing the hell system. Thanks, that’s all we need.”
“Then enlighten me in return. How the … what do Techies want with a religious afterlife system?”
His answer sounds prepared. “The traditionalists lost, though it took nearly a decade. But long before, the rational leadership spotted a problem – once the idea of a god was crippled, people would need a replacement to satisfy them. What is conquered, must also be administered. The developers found a way to move minds without interruption of awareness, and could thus sway the religionists; souls were being properly rewarded and punished. And now, afterlife was a guarantee, an antidote for everyone’s doubts.”
“I spent my last years fighting you, yet you’d send me to heaven?”
“You’ve paid in full, and you won’t be any more of a threat there than you were in hell.”
I look for a snappy comeback, fail, and relax the added, voluntary sphincter muscle. Acid floods out of the tiny sack in my brain, and the best part is that I barely feel it.
It’s supposed to be impossible to hack a mind file – there are incredible protections on basic memory, processing, and senses. However, a mind has a unique physical structure that meshes with everything else. It would take a neural engineer to spend a virtual century breaking into and tweaking his structure file from the inside.
I wasn’t a fervent believer during that distant life. I had doubts. But choosing between a godless heaven, and the heaven-less god that they all fear so much, I’ll risk the second, while the choice is still my own.
by submission | Nov 26, 2010 | Story
Author : J.D. Rice
I twist my ankle as I land in the ditch. Mud spatters over my uniform, filthy water pooling in my socks. I ignore the stench, the reek of the jungle, the pain stabbing up my leg, and press on. If I can only make it another ten minutes, I’ll be free. Ten minutes… That’s wishful thinking.
I need to get out of this muck. It slows me down, sucking at my feet, making my ankle burn with agony. To my left the slope is muddy, but not high. It’ll have to do. On my hands and knees, I pull myself out of the ditch and crawl back into the brush of the jungle. Out of breath, I turn over onto my back and stare at the canopy of leaves high above me. Beautiful, but all too deadly.
Then I hear the guttery screech of my pursuer.
Exhausted, I force myself to my feet. My weapons are gone. The energy grenades I used; The rifle I lost in the deepness of the woods. My team? Dead. I watched the Quorrics, those off-world monstrosities, slit Johannes’ throat. Smith? Wilcox? Gervais? All charred to a crisp by the plasma weapons. I can’t stand alone, unarmed and injured, against these alien hunters. My only choice is to run. I glance at the chronometer on my wrist. Seven minutes.
Half running, half limping through the jungle, I hear my pursuer rushing up behind. Low vines and branches hem me in, obstructing my path. As I hear the creature gaining on me, I know: I will never make it seven minutes. I will die today.
I fall. With my face in the mud, I hear the Quorric saunter up behind me. He lets out a few unintelligible croaks, which passes for laughter on his world. He seems to be waiting for me to roll over. Mustering what’s left of my dignity, I turn onto my back, looking up at the disgusting creature. My eyes are watery from some combination of the mud, humidity, and my own desperation. I cannot make out its features, for which I am thankful. They are disgusting creatures.
And now the moment has come, with only five minutes remaining. Five minutes more, and I wouldn’t have to face death in the mud and the muck. It’s just not my day.
He could use the plasma rifle hangin from his side, but that’s not good enough for him. The blade jutting from his arm, that gives him more pleasure. Pleasure in the tactile nature of the kill. Pleasure in humiliating me. The assault on my reputation hurts more than the blade passing through my chest. It strikes not through the heart, but through a lung. A few more croaks from the Quorric. He finds this hilarious.
Running out of air and unable to speak, I curse the creature in my mind. Then my body starts to go numb. Vision fades. Muscles still. Darkness creeps into all five senses, into my very soul. This is the worst part.
I awake in the infirmary. The cellular regenerator has just finished reconstructing my internal organs. My eyes watch as the skin of my chest slowly reseals itself. I won’t even have a scar, come morning. Johannes is already up and about. As my lungs fill with air, I choke out just one question.
“What was the score?”
Johannes sighs heavily. “20-18,” he says, “Quorric victory.”
I swear loudly.
“We’ll get them next season.”
by submission | Nov 23, 2010 | Story
Author : Clint Wilson
It always felt lonely when the ship sailed off to tow more rocks. After all, being the only companions for eighteen light-years Jim didn’t want to see them wander too far. But somebody had to stay here in the processor and make sure things ran smoothly. The constant mechanical hum carried through the station as he looked out the window to the splendor of the brilliant gas giant below. Besides this and the field of rocks in-waiting the only other thing visible against the starry background was the tele-gate, their doorway to home, six kilometers distant, motionless in its matched orbit.
The com sounded. What could they want? They just left. He activated the monitor array and there appeared the face of Commander Hunter. There was not a hint of emotion in his demeanor.
“What’s up Hunt?”
For a couple of long seconds his superior said nothing, showed nothing, just stared at Jim through the monitors. Then he uttered the words that Jim almost certainly knew would come one day. “It’s over Jim. I know everything.”
At first he tried to act aloof, knowing he had nowhere to run, nowhere to turn. “What do you mean sir? What’s over? I don’t get it.” Jim hadn’t called Hunter Sir in nearly two years. He had already given up on the lie, and the lowering of his eyes toward his feet pretty much confirmed it.
Hunter exploded in sudden rage, sending spittle toward the camera in his com station aboard Lifeboat. “You KNOW what the FUCK I MEAN!” Then he slid his chair to one side showing an utterly horrible scene. There were the other three crew members; Hanson, Desebrais, and the commander’s wife, Colonel Jillian Hunter. They were all very distressed looking, bound and gagged. Jill looked as though she had been roughed up.
“My god, what are you doing to them?”
“Don’t worry Jimmy, they’ll be fine. I just don’t need them interfering with your punishment.”
He did not like where this was going but what could he do? Whatever Hunter had planned for him, he knew it would be sinister. It was obvious that the affair was now out in the open. Had they missed a security camera? Not in any of their spots he was pretty sure. Certainly not a pregnancy, they had discussed this, they were both fixed. Maybe Hunt had simply gotten an intuition and had somehow coerced a confession out of Jill. She was too good and pure to lie. Jim cursed himself for ever putting her in this position.
“So spill it Hunt. I can hardly wait to hear how you’re going to kill me.”
“Oh I’m not that stupid. I know murder is the only thing left that can get you the death sentence. I plan on living a long and happy life in a federal institution while you wait the… he stopped, mock calculating, tapping fingers back and forth on his palms to build suspense …let’s see, including acceleration and deceleration you should see a replacement tele-gate in about thirty years.
“Hunt! Please man, I know this is bad, but think of our friendship. Please don’t do this to me!”
Commander Hunter looked almost regretful for a split second and then straightened back up. “You’ve got enough food and water you prick. See you when we’re old men.”
Jim turned to the window in time to see Lifeboat flash out of existence through the tele-gate and then watched as the tow line followed until the three-hundred-million ton asteroid, far too large for the porthole, smashed his doorway to home into nothingness.
