by submission | Nov 4, 2009 | Story
Author : Jacob Lothyan
When the box was finally opened, it was assumed by some that it had been tampered with beforehand. After all, there was a fairly explicit warning that stated: ANY ATTEMPT TO OPEN THIS BOX OR OTHERWISE INSPECT THE CONTENTS BEFORE THE INTENDED TIME WILL RESULT IN IRREVERSIBLE DAMAGE TO THE CONTENTS. That warning had always been enough to dissuade any attempts by the current generation of scientists and politicians to prod any further than curious glances and wild speculation. It is well known, however, that over the centuries many attempts had been made to destroy the box before it could open. Different groups throughout history had sprung up declaring that the box was a super virus or mega bomb that needed to be suppressed instead of guarded. At least a couple of those groups actually came into possession of the box for brief periods of time. It is unknown what type or level of tampering took place during those periods, but it is speculated that it was enough to irreversibly damage the contents.
Another group believes that the “box experiment” had simply failed of its own accord. They figured that whatever the point of the experiment had been, it had lost its meaning and significance over the centuries that it had taken for the box to open. Many in this group argue that the timer was either damaged during mishandling, or that it had been set wrong from the beginning. Either way, they argued, it had been foolish to focus so much time and energy, and so many resources, on an irrelevant artifact from a lost civilization. In these circles, the “box experiment” is commonly referred to and understood as the “botched experiment.”
I, however, am of another school of thought. I believe that the box was intended to convey a very significant message. Simply because none of the greatest minds of our time can comprehend the message does not mean that box is without a message; it is just, as yet, not understood. I believe that once the object contained within the box is finally identified, every question from even the most outspoken of skeptics will finally be answered. I believe that understanding the box is our only and final opportunity if we hope to save the world as we know it, if we hope to save humanity. As it is now being asserted in some groups, ancient knowledge is knowledge none the less.
Of course, I accept that I may be partial; I was the only one lucky enough to see it live and in person, the only one to smell it, and it seems to have made a greater impression on me than any of my colleagues. I was alone in the box chamber when I was startled by a very audible click as the unknown timer expired. I turned just in time to witness the whistling mist of decompression. Despite warnings about possible airborne contaminants, I approached the box. Peering over the edge, into the depths of the box, I was not immediately awed, more confused. All that lied inside was a strange, thorny, green stick with thin, red, feathery pads overlapped at one end. It was the most beautiful and intricate biological specimen that had been witnessed in our time, but seemingly nonsensical. Just as a rich, earthy aroma reached my nostrils, the thorny stick began to turn brown in the feathery part, the pads beginning to curl. Before I could summon my colleagues to my side, the contents had reduced to dust, leaving us all to wonder and debate.
by submission | Nov 1, 2009 | Story
Author : Jacob Lothyan
It comes back to an inherent flaw in the system. The Incident Imprinter isn’t exactly time travel, not as time travel was originally imagined. That is to say that we still don’t fully understand how matter on the quantum level can be in two places and times at once, so we simply leave our bodies behind. Our consciousnesses travel to different times and distant places, wherever we can imagine, really.
It was great for a while. We were the disembodied embodiment of the unobserved observer. Humanity learned more about the world and its history than ever imagined. We studied dinosaurs and wars and eruptions. We spent days with philosophers, generals, and playwrights. We watched pyramids being built and rivers drying away.
Everything was perfect until a brilliant physicist tried to go back and watch the beginning of the universe. Unfortunately for her, Descartes was right. A tech came across her body, burnt and frozen and starved for oxygen, still strapped into conduit 761231. It is hypothesized that she found herself in the complete darkness of space, and was probably fine at first. Over a small duration of time, as the universe began to unfold in front of her, she began to consider all of the physical properties that she understood about space. Forgetting that she did not have a body that could burn or freeze, or need oxygen, she panicked. It was the first ever trip to space using the Incident Imprinter. It was also the last. It is the most cited case when debating the effects of mind over matter.
That may have been the last visit to space, but it was not the last evidence of the flaw. Once other travelers realized that they could impact their physical being even while detached, they couldn’t get the thought out of their minds. Travelers started coming back with scrapes and bruises, burns and missing limbs. Wars and eruptions saw an immediate and steep decline in tourism. Suicides became more creative.
It was only a matter of time before some less scrupulous individuals took advantage of the flaw. Eventually, it was found that, even though we couldn’t understand the physics involved, travelers were able to create physical manifestations of themselves while visiting the past. These manifestations were nothing more than blinks or blurs, but still enough to be viewed and noted by the natives of any particular time. Worse still, these travelers discovered that with a little practice they could also be heard. It wasn’t until recently that ripples have been detected in the timeline.
It is hypothesized that we have found the cause of apparitions such as ghosts and spirits. We no longer believe that prophets who claimed to have spoken with angels or messengers were insane, just the victims of cruel pranks. It is even suspected that the voice of God may be walking amongst us. Needless to say, public access to the Incident Imprinter is no longer allowed. They are even thinking of canceling previously sanctioned school and business trips. Nobody is above suspicion.
by submission | Oct 31, 2009 | Story
Author : Bryan Mulholland
“I’m afraid I can’t stay long Doctor Einstein, I really must go, I’ve stayed here for far too long” I apologised.
“Time, I have studied it, explained it and theorized it. Now it slips through my fingers” he muttered as he looked into the spring sunlit grounds.
Not looking up from my diary I explained “Yes, well it happens to us all I’m afraid. Now I really must go, I have to visit Planck, McIntyre and Lord Kelvin today, it’s a busy one”.
“I am not going to ask how, but can you tell me when?” he asked calmly. A little too calmly I thought, almost as if he was asking the time of day.
“A year precisely, as is our policy Doctor Einstein. Many thanks for the notes again” I said packing them away, “You have helped our cause greatly”.
He was still sitting gazing out the window when I pulled the cords connected to my backpack. All at once the world around me dissolved into red dust and all too soon I was back in my office.
The view from my windows was obscured by The Cloud. Must be low lying today. I missed the view; I hadn’t seen it since the weather shifted. I missed seeing the shuttles leaving for Col2 as it circled our grey marble.
Walking past my non-existent view to the data entry slot, I fed in the notes Einstein had given me. “I wonder where that boy has got to” I thought to myself as I fed the notes in and heard that strangely satisfying whirr click as the computer accepted them. The panel on my desk lit up confirming their acceptance. “Alistair!” I shouted; as soon as the words left my mouth I knew there was no point shouting for my assistant, he was probably off on one of his “personal visits” as he often was while I was away. I wondered who he was with today. Asimov? Wells? Hell, it might even be Adams, knowing Alistair.
After flicking through the notes on my display and not seeing anything new (what with time and fourth dimensional travel being my speciality) I decided it would be best to head to my next source. Checking my diary (I am old fashioned that way), I found that next was McIntyre, someone I had been looking forward to interviewing since I created the Archive Project. His complete notes would make a fantastic addition to our library, plus I had a few questions for the man who kick started my development in fourth dimensional travel and brought this project into existence. The father of time travel himself, next to him Einstein was but a pre-schooler. There were a few kinks in my backpack design I wanted to smooth out, and who better to ask than him?
There was a sound, a strange sound, as if the air itself was quietly being rent asunder. Looking up I noticed Alistair. Looking a lot more weathered than when I had last seen him not to mention a scar on his face. “Alistair!” I exclaimed “What the devil happened to you? Where did you get that scar?”
“Freud” he said simply, as if it explained everything. That’s when I noticed the backpack he was wearing. It was not of my design, although it looked like it incorporated many elements of it. “Alistair what…” I began to ask when he interrupted me and said the words I knew I would hear one day.
“Dr Corban, I am from the future, I am here for information only. I will not harm you”
by submission | Oct 30, 2009 | Story
Author : Jennifer C. Brown aka Laieanna
Shimmering just before, the dome door melted away into nothing. The vibrations that came with the shield opening left Henrick feeling a little nauseous. Between the clear slats of the dome’s walls were colors of light pink to lavender. Stepping outside the shield, Henrick saw the sky was painted in deep purples. He looked back at the surface of the outside wall for the indicator. It gave a tolerable reading.
“The shields really distort the true colors of this world.” A girl two feet taller said as she passed him.
Henrick looked back at the indicator, up at the sky, then at the girl and decided to follow. He ran to catch up with her long strides. “This is my first week here. I’ve only seen orange till now.”
“The toxins are pretty high today. When it’s bright green, you especially don’t want to be outside. That’s when you have trouble. I’m Patrish.” She only gave him a momentarily glance.
“Henrick.”
“Haven’t participated in the planet education class yet, have you?”
“No. I’m rarely out of the tech labs. How long have you been here?”
“Sixteen months. I’m part of the language classes. You better keep your eyes on the walkway.”
Henrick did as he was told, turning his attention from the sky to the shining white walkway that carried the students safely from one dome to the other without a single foot touching the massive jungle of alien plant life that filled the planet just ten feet below them. He glanced over the side. Something of a puke brown snapped in his direction, it’s razor leaves coming together in their search for lunch. Another plant just five feet further away was oozing a substance between it’s lumpy gold petals. Henrick looked around at all the disturbing plants and remembered why he usually stayed in the labs. Ever since he got a glimpse of the outside from a shuttle window, he opted to stay inside as much as possible. The vegetation growing over the planet’s surface terrified him.
The sky was getting lighter with a shade of forest green trying to eat at the purple near the horizon. Patrish quickened her pace. “This won’t be good soon. We should probably hurry.”
Henrick’s legs were thicker and shorter so he took another jog to keep up. Patrish still had him at her back by four steps. He put on a burst of speed to catch up. His right foot missed the edge and Henrick found himself falling to his nightmares. Heading face first, he could see a clearing between the thick plants and prayed he would land there. It was going to hurt since the planet itself was much further down than he assumed based on the tall vegetation, but a broken leg was better than being dinner.
Patrish was screaming behind him. His voice joined. Before he could feel the impact, a giant blue leaf caught him. It was tacky against his skin and smelled like an unwashed body. Henrick shut his weeping eyes and braced for the first crunch.
“Get up!” Patrish yelled only seconds later. Henrick opened his eyes to find himself back on the solid platform. The leaf was snaking back off the edge.
“I’m alive?” He asked as she pulled him to his feet.
“Of course. The plants just saved your life. If you had touched the soil you’d be dead, which will still happen if you don’t move. The sky is getting brighter. Can’t you see the planet is trying to kill us? Now run!”
by submission | Oct 28, 2009 | Story
Author : Michelle Keeley
Frank stared impassively as the Floridian dawn crept silently across his bedroom, the line of accolades on his antique dresser cast long, foreboding shadows onto the elegant wallpaper. The day had come.
He showered as usual. He dressed as usual. Even the drive to mission control was now routine.
As he pulled up at security the nod from the guard was replaced by an earnest yet supportive ‘All the best Commander’. He parked up and entered, the automatic doors sliding silently open to reveal the soaring atrium beyond. Passing through, his stride was broken by an over-emotional receptionist planting a good luck kiss on his cheek, although appreciating the sentiment his discomfort was obvious.
Inside the debriefing room he took a seat alongside his crew as he fought the desire to run a thousand miles in the opposite direction. His exterior belied nothing, he was still ice cool Frank, top graduate in his year, the automatic choice, you could always count on Frank.
After some final words, the four headed across the launch site to suit-up, attire that had been almost as long in development as the shuttle itself. Each crew member had their personal fitter or space tailor as Frank used to call them.
He was surprised but slightly relieved to find no sign of his fitter as he perched on the edge of the grey tub chair in the kit room, his body too rigid to sit back. Joel entered moments later accompanied by some final items of kit and an oppressive silence.
Self consciously Frank stripped off his outer clothes and stepped into his pearlescent suit, its cumbersome nature soon leaving him in need of a second pair of hands. Frank tucked each arm in as Joel pulled from the waist before fastening the front, their close proximity thickened the air in a way that seemed inconceivable a few weeks ago.
They had practiced this procedure so often they completed it without a word. Glancing at the clock, Frank was well enough versed in the timetable to realise the next few minutes were allocated to family goodbyes. He made for the door, gaze firmly fixed floor wards and despite his broad stature, the strength to break the tension eluded him. The desire to apologise, to confess his feelings and admit his fear of intolerance were buried too deep. He left, closing the door behind him.
Two small children ran towards the crew as they appeared in the lounge doorway, a toddling girl and an older boy. Two of the crew hoisted their children into the air prompting fits of giggles, the third embraced his wife as best he could around her prominent bump.
A silver haired gentleman strode enthusiastically towards Frank, his Navy uniform resplendent with medals. ‘We’re so proud of you son’. ‘Thanks Dad’ Frank replied with a weak smile, his mother simpered quietly. After a few minutes small talk the klaxon sounded and the last goodbyes were said.
‘Right men, time to go’ Frank boomed, momentarily recharged with his Father’s praise.
The four walked across the pad and took their positions in the shuttle. As the countdown began tears welled up behind Franks visor, the roar of the engine masked the sob he could no longer contain.
