by submission | Aug 13, 2010 | Story
Author : Jake Lane
You’ve never been the most outgoing person, Sam. It’s not your fault, I’m sure, but that doesn’t stop it from being the truth. As wonderful as you are now (I love you, Sam, you know that), you could be so much more wonderful.
From the moment we met I could see that you were a slave to your own insecurities. When you spilled your coffee all over my briefcase you self-consciously apologized to me for hours. You apologized for hours and then we dated for months because, well, a flawed diamond is still a diamond. I married you.
Even now, I’m just barely able to see beyond the sheen of your sun-speckled surface into your concealed depths. But what depths! Oh, I have no doubt that you are as magnificent as you are repressed. Peel away your cocoon of complexes and you would become the perfect person, the person that I met, briefly, after you returned from your mission.
As you strode out of the starport terminal I could see a confidence in your swagger that betrayed the extent of your transformation (or should I say “emergence”?). As you strode out of the starport terminal I knew that everything would be different. I was standing face-to-face with the hidden person I always knew you were just dying to let out. When your friends come by to fry fish and crack beers and stargaze, they talk about being transformed out there in the void. The dusty amber dye-drop hurricanes of Jupiter are said to be unparalleled by our terrestrial standards. At first, I thought that was it: That you’d seen the silent, stormy beauty of the outer planets and it had changed you, Sam. You opened up, you calmed down. Sure, you’d occasionally drop plates or stumble on the stairs, but you maneuvered around these minor slips with wit and casual grace. The Sam I’d always loved, the Sam I married, no longer felt the need to hide behind awkward apologies. You had this inebriated joviality and this nonchalance and this debonair aura that just turned me on. You had fire and you had edge and you had sly humor and motivation and nosebleeds…
Those damn nosebleeds.
The doctor said they were superficial, not necessarily a sign of any permanent damage. But those nosebleeds gave us away, or gave you away. Gave it away, the goddamn stealthy little helper curled around your brain stem. When the doctor pulled the needle-thin, noodle-thin parasite from your skull, I knew I’d lost you. The moment you blushed and kneaded the back of your neck and awkwardly told me it must have, ‘Uh, climbed in there while I was down on the surface, I guess, I don’t know, weird huh?’, I knew I’d lost you.
I wonder if you miss that uninhibited, charismatic self? In fact, I’m almost sure you do. You’d have to. Because for all the nosebleeds and the twitching and the fumbling, that worm was the best thing to happen to you, Sam. Well, this fight isn’t over. As weak and insecure as you may be, you’ve always looked out for me, and nothing in this world or others is going to keep me from looking out for you. There’s a parcel in the mail, hermetically sealed, atmosphere regulated, temperature monitored, express-shipped from the frigid planes of Io. I’ll see you soon, Sam. I love you.
by submission | Aug 12, 2010 | Story
Author : Alec Ow
“When are you going to get a new body?”
I ping my guildmates, “I’ve got girlfriend aggro, this might take a while,” and sheathe my sword. They only manage a cursory glance and a quick “later mate” before they and the dragons’ den dissolves away into a white room with Cerise standing in the middle.
“It’s been a month since the accident,” she continues, “you need counseling. There’s more to life than working a menial number-crunching job and wasting your day away in VR you know.”
“I don’t need counseling-”
“You THINK you don’t need counseling,” she interrupts me, “first deaths are a big deal, John, you don’t have to hide behind that tough exterior.”
“Times are tough right now Cerise, being an infomorph for a while can save us some money on living expenses. I can’t afford to buy a body right now and you know I don’t want to rent. What if I get a smoker’s body? Having to deal with the nicotine withdrawal-,” I stop myself. I know I can’t win this argument so I try to change the subject, “Where are you right now?”
“At work, on break. I just got off chat with my mom. They want to take us to the Bahamas this summer. Even if you rent a synth it’ll be better than bringing you along in a harddrive. I miss the feel of your touch.”
“But we-”
“VR’s not the same. Please, I know you don’t want to be hurt again, but think of all the things you’ll be missing out on.”
A lull in the conversation. I let out an audible sigh, “My promotion should be coming soon. I’ll go schedule an appointment for counseling and we can shop for hybrids when you get home. I just hope your parents don’t sneer too much for not going full-organic.”
“They won’t judge,” a smile slowly creeps across her face.
“Oh right, your dad in his ‘all-natural olympiad body, the blue-print cost a fortune you know and fabricated from the finest biomass money can buy’,” I attempt my best impression of her dad.
She lets out a giggle and plants a kiss on my lips, “I’ll see you when I get home, babe.”
Cerise and the white room dissolves away and I’m met by my guildmates standing over a dead dragon, arguing over who gets the spear.
“Anyone know any good hybrid models?” I ask and grimace as I’m met by their sneers.
by submission | Aug 9, 2010 | Story
Author : CJ Bergin
Tom rolled over in his sleep and felt his arm fall onto cool skin.
“Careful honey” a whisper in his ear said. “Unless of course, you’re trying to start something.” A smile crawled up Tom’s face as he moaned playfully.
“No” the word resounded through the room clear as crystal, and was followed by a much more muffled “at least not right now”. Warm breath passed by Tom’s ear, as the response came.
“Of course, honey”. Sarah gave her husband a quick kiss, then closed her eyes, and fell still. Satisfied, Tom’s smile melted away, his eyelids sank, and he let reality fall away, at least for a little while.
When he opened his eyes again, Sarah was out of bed. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the bedroom door teasing Tom’s taste buds. His smile quickly returned.
What a wonderful wife, he thought to himself, I can’t believe I’m so lucky
Tom crawled out of bed, put on his slippers, walked out of his bedroom, through the hallway, and into the kitchen, which was neatly hidden away in the corner of the house. Sarah’s back faced Tom as she tended to the bacon on the stove. She was already dressed for the morning in a flowing white sundress. On the kitchen counter a small TV displayed the news.
“How is it you know exactly how to make me happier than anyone else?” Tom came behind Sarah and slid his arms around her waist.
“Easy” She chuckled “You told me how, bacon and sex.” She turned to face him, “Except, this morning, somebody wasn’t in the mood” Tom’s smile didn’t falter an inch
“You’re forgetting its bacon, sex, and sleep. Sleep is just as important.”
“Well you didn’t seem to think so last night” He smiled at his bride, and with no other diplomatic option available, he kissed her, and she kissed him back. Tom completely lost himself in the moment. He blocked out all other thoughts, even the entrancing smell of bacon on the griddle. None of it could compare to this. After what seemed like a wonderful eternity Tom slowly returned to reality, to the sound of the TV blaring.
“Protesters have stormed D.C. demanding the repeal of the population control bill, or what has become known as the “control clause”. Protesters insist that the right to reproduce should be shared by all, not simply by government appointed breeders…”
Tom’s smile didn’t falter an inch. In fact, it grew. It grew until he couldn’t contain it anymore, and he began laughing. He laughed until tears started streaming down his face.
“Can you believe those people? Who the hell would want to have children? Do you realize it takes $100,000 to raise the things till their 18? Yea right” Sarah looked at her husband, turned around, and continued tending to the bacon. “Aw, honey whats wrong?”
“Nothing” the reply came
“Aw c’mon, Sarah you don’t want to have one of those things…do you?”
“You know that I can’t”
“But do you want to?” Tom’s question was answered with silence. “Oh Jesus, not again” he muttered. He grabbed Sarah violently by the waist, and began reaching up her dress. Sarah panicked, she began screaming and flailing her arms.
”Stop!” Tom shouted, and so Sarah did. He reached Sarah’s abdominal control panel and hit reset. Sarah’s eyes closed for a second, and then opened again.
“Hello, I am Sarah, serial number 942621137 what is your name?”
“Tom”
“Oh, Tom I’m so happy to be your wife! How can I make you happy?” Tom’s smile returned.
“Lets go upstairs”
by submission | Aug 8, 2010 | Story
Author : Dale Anson
Seventh Contact
The ship was nothing but a bit of gossamer, wrapped in a smallish chunk of spacetime and plasma, elongated to impossible dimensions. Krista’s thougths, stretched by relativistic time, traveled from synapse to synapse in mere seconds. Ahead, the red star grew from a suggestion to a dot to a period to a disk to an orb to a sphere to an overwhelmingly large object that dominated all thought to absolute brightness bending her course slightly to the right to merely large to not so large to diminishing to what was that, anyway?
Krista looked outward, considering the trigonometry of the center versus the reddish star disappearing rapidly behind her versus the nebula at 9 o’clock versus the smallish galaxy below versus the leftish edge of the spiraling arm directly ahead. It would be at least a quarter turn, she decided.
She napped.
She blinked. She heard it now, low level, but distinct. She heard the sound of organization, of civilization, of thought above the slime level. Hours later, fully aware, she triangulated. She had entered the second arm, her journey across the void had been successful. Krista backtracked the signals: correlation, confirmation, origin. She ran pattern matching routines, deep archival retrieval processes, and bounced everything against her last known intelligence registries. She ran her data through the subspace routines, then through the species identifier, then through the spacetime geometry stacks, then through the hyperspace stacks.
It fit.
The bluish star pass to port, then she aimed toward a yellowish star down and to starboard.
Krista passed a small planet, then an orange gas giant with a ring, then a small white planet, then she contracted, swelled, and slowed to visibility. As she rounded the yellow star, she saw the blue marble from ancient days. She angled toward the equilibrium point trailing the orbit of the blueness, and set up her defenses to repel the incoming nuclear warheads.
Contact was never easy, even when it came from home.
by submission | Aug 7, 2010 | Story
Author : Christopher Booth
The life support system wheezed. Not that it made any difference. Yahwee could barely hear. Eons in space and the ability to communicate without making a sound made Yahwee’s ears barely usable.
His big black eyes wanted to cry, but the ability to cry had been lost some time (time? A concept he never really got comfortable with) ago.
“And Jesus wept”.
Yahwee remembered he had heard that somewhere. Or written it…or something.
A pale white figure slumping in the chair, long white fingers pawing the panel in front. The damage to the ship will not be repaired. That knowledge was lost. The ships never need this kind of repair. Five light years away from where Yahwee is suppose to be. And Yahwee will never make it back…
Yahwee’s eyes drifted. With the first contact with the race they were primitive. Yahwee had seen this a thousand times before. Take a primitive race. Teach them and let them teach themselves. Watch them, love them, nurture them. Never hide, but never be seen. Give them language and morals. Give them the freedom to grow and the guidance to grow straight. Give them an occasional “Miracle”.
This planet was exceptionally bright. They were difficult to lead. As they entered into their middle ages they resisted to being led. Their creativity interpreted Yahwee as a god…more than once. Their lust and brilliance led to their wars. Their learning made them dangerous. The ease in which they learned made them bored. Yahwee has dealt with these civilizations before.
But they were such beautiful creatures. No one creature’s skin was the same color. The soft subtle hues delighted Yahwee every time he saw them. They were tall and strong. They had physical love which Yahwee never got to experience. Their eyes were different colors. Rare for any race.
And they built glorious temples to Yahwee. By themselves. Pyramids and domes and spires. The fashioned their meager resources by hand and later by the machines they built. They wanted to please Yahwee, and he was pleased. When they join the cosmos, they will bring a beauty to awe most races found.
The key is to reveal one’s self before the civilization destroys themselves. Some civilizations allow themselves to be led into Yahwee’s bliss. It was the ones that did not want to be led that blessed the cosmos the most.
At times Yahwee considered what it would be like to be a part of this race. He was comforted to know that one day they would become a part of his.
Yahwee’s heart broke. Yahwee knew the Yahwee would not be there. The souls he committed to ashes were the souls he was supposed to save. He would not be there to save them. What would they become when their god does not return. They will destroy themselves. The flower will bloom and wilt. Never to be frozen in the cosmic time as it was meant to be. Their beautiful skin, their puzzling eyes, their strong bodies, their art and their architecture. Yahwee had heard of it before, but never one of his civilizations.
Yahwee was dying. The ship is lost and will not be repaired. Yahwee lived 10,000 lifetimes…but no more. Where will they be without their god. Yahwee wanted to cry…but not for Yahwee.
