by submission | Aug 15, 2009 | Story
Author : Apollyn
So here we are. You and I on the verge of time. Ready to bungee jump right off the scariest edge my eyes have seen. I’ve done this and yet I am this close to turning my back on you and walking away. I can feel my heart all over my body – various pulses here and there, each and every one of them yelling at me to run away because the stakes are too high. And they are high indeed.
A bungee jump through time clears out pieces of you since every violent rush through the temporal matter causes severe untreatable amnesia. And after a whole lot of jumping around you’re up to your neck in Alzheimer’s. Because when we attained the innermost understanding of time we found out that jumping around it is fun. Later on we found out that travelling around it, never mind the purpose or the effect, causes some sort of temporal cancer. A disease that eats your memories out throwing you around your own sense of time. Which is… well, we all got it right in the end – our very own well known Alzheimer’s disease which twists your mind and memory around and leaves you a wrecked shell rushing through time. Only this one’s kind of self caused instead of genetic.
These are the risks of time bungeeing besides being lost in a temporal twist of course. But there are also the benefits. The adrenalin rush. The chance of going through time in a single jump and getting right where you long to be – this very high of falling in love with a particular one; the most precious first kiss; that first cry of your child; a very last goodbye…
And in the end it’s worth it. If even for the adrenalin of knowing when I’m going to be in just a few seconds. If even for the heartbeat in my throat leaving me breathless. If even for holding your hand on this verge. It’s not pretty around here, but I’m not here for pretty. I kind of hate this place with the inky sticky darkness, with the whispers coming from the endless down that’s waiting to devour my own time, with the horror shaking my hand each time I dare to take a breath. But I’m all prepped up now and the guys around the corner are screaming at me to jump. It takes just one step to be down there and fall in love with you once more. I’ll rush through us in the blink of an eye and maybe I’ll get to say the one goodbye you never heard me say in your own genetic Alzheimer’s temporal dimension. You’re nothing but a ghost now here on this verge.
A single step over this edge will let me hold you again. You’re smiling.
I’ve done this a whole bunch of times. I close my eyes. I throw myself into this reality generated void. My last wish – when I’m through with this I hope the jump would send you right into oblivion.
by submission | Aug 14, 2009 | Story
Author : Debbie Mac Rory
“This ship represents the cutting edge of our technologies. It’s fitted with both near-light and dark-light engines. It even has solar sails installed, if you ever wanted to cruise on silent. The ship is designed for a skeleton crew of 6, though it can accommodate up to 25 comfortably, while still allowing personal space for each crew member at maximum capacity. All resources, food, water, medical provisions, have been supplied for up to three times your estimated mission time, with apparatus to synthesize more should you wish. The data banks have been filled with the most up to date journals and papers, as well as a full directory of social materials. In short, this ship has everything you could need. It is a home away from home”
“And what do you want me to do with it?”
“Get lost”
* ** *** ** *
Gavin sighed, stretching tired muscles as he got up from his chair. His shift had finished over half an hour ago, but he hated giving up the view from the bridge. Alex nodded at him as he left. Brid, already deep into her spectral analysis data was too absorbed to notice his exit.
Morale on the ship was high, as you would expect following an all night party. The last solar system they’d encountered, while still primitive had a wealth of life, both micro- and macroscopic. Since the probes had started coming back with samples, he’d barely seen Selene, Liz or Niall and at times he wasn’t even sure they’d come out of their lab. He smiled as he walked by them, heads down, taking sample here, cuttings there, lost in their own little worlds, even without the haz-mat suits.
He turned shortly after passing the environmental section, entering his second favourite place on the ship; the library. The tones were muted and relaxing here, with plenty of seats for solitary of social relaxation. Elin was already there, and her eyes lit up as she saw him enter. Abandoning her e-book, she crossed the room to the sunken mid-section of the room, facing a wall-wide screen. The formal meeting room had been abandoned in favour of this area; it led to a much better atmosphere among the crew.
Elin quietly took a seat beside him as he tapped the notebook he had carried, connecting to and then loading the new data to the map that hung as the default view on the screen. A series of images, ones they’d taken themselves flickered by as the new data was incorporated. Slowly an image resolved on the screen, a flattened disk of the Milky Way, home shining as a bright blue dot on one edge. A small uneven ring of coloured information points surrounded the dot, conspicuous against the grey-scale of unexplored space. Piercing out from one side of this area, a thin wedge, making its winding way outwards. At the point of the wedge, a small cursor glimmered, indicating their current position.
“We’re doing well”, Elin said, leaning against his him.
Gavin smiled as he laid his arm across her shoulders.
“We haven’t even reaching mid-point yet. Do you think we’ll make it all the way to the centre?”
“With everyone still excited about the samples from Tryprin, I think you could bring them right out to the far side and they wouldn’t complain”.
Gavin chuckled, hugging Elin close before resting his head on top of hers.
“And do you think we might actually decide on a name for this boat by then?”
by submission | Aug 12, 2009 | Story
Author : Todd Hammrich
On his final day of work the robot A9327R activated with a slight jerk. He was quite pleased that today he would be done with his projects. Long ago he had been created to serve as the monument upkeep specialist and had quite a job set before him. They were old, full of historical significance (though that sort of thing was beyond his grasp) and they were falling apart. Now, he was happy to report, things were much better.
He knew of course that they were not completely restored, heavens no, but they were as good as his abilities allowed him to make them. More could be done, if he knew how to run the great machines and tools of his creators, but his skills were simple and his intelligence not great enough to learn anything else. A few more simple tasks and the drain on his power pack (it had gone far too long without recharging, but he found no masters to help) would be too much and he would deactivate for the last time.
With careful measured steps, conserving as much energy as possible A9327R began his march to the monuments. It wasn’t a long walk, but it was dangerous because the roads were full of debris and other hazardous materials. Not in his monuments though. Oh no, not there. Once on his grounds he emerged into another land. It was crisp and clean, plants neatly tended, pathways always clear of anything that may get underfoot, and it was a slice of perfection. And it was his area to tend. Indeed, having seen no one else for many, many years, it was possible his alone.
Slowly he made his rounds checking that everything was in place. Cleaning where he saw it needed it and ignoring that which would take too long. He had to make it to the little ones today, as they were his final project. He was right on time though and would be able to finish this one right. This memorial was newer than the others. It had been installed the last time he had seen his masters.
It was beautiful (or to his circuits it seemed) all made of marble and delicately done. There were 4 young children hands together playing a game. Though A9327R knew they were statues, like the one of the very tall man, he couldn’t help but feel awe in reverence of them (little masters as they were). The only problem was that for the past week, they had not moved, as they should, around and around in their little circle. So he had saved it for last, knowing it would be the last thing he would do.
For nearly three hours, a master of restoration, he worked. Gears were cleaned, cables tested, and electronics doubly tested. Finally A9327R climbed out and away from the children and waited while the power ran through its own checks and finally, ever so slowly, the children began to rotate in their little circle, like an endless game of tag. And A9327R made his way over to the closest bench and sat like a master with a sense of pride and slowly deactivated.
The children rotated merrily on their endless circle singing their soft song in a place dedicated to the dead. The place where the walls hold the dead heroes of its dead nation. The place where Lincoln and Jefferson and the tower of Washington stand, like sentinels watching over the ruined wasteland of Washington D.C. The children sang slowly:
Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall …
by submission | Aug 10, 2009 | Story
Author : David Richey
“She’s amazing!” exclaimed General Perkins.
“Thank you very much, General.” Dr. Springmayer said as they looked through the observation window. “We’ve worked very hard to make her so. Having sixty years worth of classified government research and a bottomless budget backing you up doesn’t hurt either.”
“You know, I’d believe she was actually a human if I didn’t know better.”
“But she is human, General. Just because she is composed of organs that were grown in a lab doesn’t make her otherwise.” The doctor said with a smirk.
“And the hardware? What does that make her?”
“Better. It makes her much, much better.” He stated proudly. “Her strength is unbelievable. The living human skin does a great job hiding her “muscles”. She is able to lift five thousand pounds like it’s a bag of flour, she can run 45 m.p.h nearly indefinitely, and she needs almost no food because the amount of living tissue that she is composed of is so small. Besides that, having a hard drive where her brain should be means that she can download absolutely anything we want her to learn.”
“What’s she doing now?” the General asked.
“Her favorite hobby. She’s calculating pi. We allow her two hours of free time a day at the computer and that’s always how she chooses to spend it.”
“So when will we be able to show our investors the weapon that is going to keep the U.S. unstoppable on the battlefield? They are very interested to see what nearly a trillion dollars can build.”
Dr. Springmayer flashed a worried look. “Not just yet. We still have a few months worth of training and testing to do before we are ready to present her.”
“I’d like to meet her, Doctor.”
“I-I-I don’t think that now-“
“That wasn’t a request, Dr. Perkins! I am expected to report back to some very important people about how I think this project is going. Now, take me in there so I can meet her.”
Reluctantly, the doctor took his security card out and swiped it through the door lock. He led the General into the room where a woman, who didn’t appear to be over 25 years old, with red hair and fair skin, sat behind a desk, typing at an incredible rate.
“What’s her name?” the General asked Dr. Perkins.
“We have been calling her Sheree.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Dr. Perkins. But I believe that was your wife’s name.”
Looking at the floor, the doctor said quietly, “Yes, it was.”
The General, looking back to the young woman, said “It’s nice to meet you, Sheree.”
She stopped typing. Scooting her chair back, she stood up and turned around. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, General Springmayer.”
“Even her voice is convincing.” The General said. Then, with a puzzled look on his face, he asked “Why is her stomach-?” Then he stopped talking as he processed what he was seeing. Horrified, he asked “Dr. Perkins, please tell me she’s not…”
“Yes,” he said, ashamed. “She’s pregnant.”
by submission | Aug 9, 2009 | Story
Author : Ken McGrath
My body goes limp and it’s like floating, like there’s no gravity. Then I feel the zoom, my shoulders jerk back and I’m off.
Blood rushes to my head, fingertips scuttling like tiny crabs dancing over the keyboard, a whoosh by my eyes as the corners flash past in a blur of motion. My heartbeat starts to increase and I stabilise the craft, quickly selecting the icon I need.
There’s a click in the heart of my machine and gears shift upward, my angle straightens and I pounce forwards.
I feel the familiar kick as I crest that first hill, feeling the craft going airborne slightly and I hit the boosters, this time anticipating the push, the zoom and my stomach being sucked up into my lungs by the increasing pressure. Lights flash by as the track goes underground. Single pinpricks of white and red, yellow and orange stretching out, forming long continuous unbroken lines. They’ll direct me to my destination. Just stay inside of them I think calmly going over the familiar, rehearsed route in my mind.
I smile feeling the power beneath me, surrounding me, like I’ve become one with this machine. The guys in the garage would have some laugh if they heard me saying that and I’m sure the team psychologist would have a field day with it too. It’s true though, to a certain extent. You have to know your vehicle intimately, know how she’ll respond to any slight change in the terrain before you can seriously take part in a competition like this and I’ve spent so much of the past year working towards this moment. That was the engagement now this is the union, our bodies fused together by a series of straps, wires and buckles. Together we are complete. Right now we are one unit, with one goal, to complete this course in the fastest time possible.
Symbols flash up on my visor screen. For a fleeting moment the track ahead, pitch black apart from the comet-tailed guide lights is condensed and relegated to the bottom right of my vision. Both eyes work independently and my brain processes both sets of information simultaneously. There’s a lurch as the back of the craft glides too far to the left and the tunnel wall looms up terminally.
Like lightening I wrestle back control, using the spin to my advantage and we lunge forwards together. Sharp left, long, curving right, into the dip, accelerator held down firmly, a gentle tap and slight angling correction as I burst into sunlight and take the chicane. Inside my harness I lift slightly as the craft cuts smoothly through the air.
Focusing on the curves and turns I casually watch my timer creeping up on the race leader’s track-time. The chatter of voices in my helmet, issuing instructions and updates on my progress from the pit-lane are encouragement rather than distraction. Strapped in tight, the security harness keeping me locked in place, suspended inside this gyroscopic machine. This is freedom and I love it.
