by submission | Dec 27, 2008 | Story
Author : Rob Burton
Within the holiest temple, buried deep within the cathedral, Arch-Bishop Emmanuel Berret struck the Bios Chime above the altar of power. The bell released its singular soft tone to bounce crazily between the hard walls. Terrified that his failing hearing might make him act too quickly, Berret waited six more heartbeats after it finally diminished to speak the holy words learnt from the historical documents. ‘Ohm nama shivaya’, he intoned, genuflecting so that his forehead touched the leading edge of the altar.
Two servers, each with a box in their hands, approached him. The first carried the paste of thermal conduction, which he brought forth from the box and placed it, in its tube, reverently into the palm of the Arch-Bishop.
‘Ohm nama shivaya.’ His low, grumbling mantra resonated from the stone walls, chasing its predecessor. The second server opened his box with all due ritual and retrieved from within the sacred silicon wafer. He placed it into the palm of the Arch-Bishop’s hand.
‘Ohm nama shivaya.’ The servers gently withdrew with bowed heads, as if the gentle wave of his utterance had propelled them with its gentle pressure. He prayed to Saint William of the gate and Saint Steven of the labours that he might be worthy of opening the book as he spread the paste upon the wafer and passed it to his lips. Its awful taste filled his mouth, but he swallowed with a gasp and stood to face the holy book.
Just as he had been told, it was almost featureless, smooth and black, made of something that was neither metal, nor stone, nor wood or skin of any kind. He knew what only the most holy men knew, that trapped within its form was contained all of the alphabet, laid out in its holy order, and all of the numbers, surrounded by arcane words and wondrous commands. He also knew of the tablet of light – the bringer of prophesy and ultimate knowledge. His eyes traced the crack at its edge that was the only clue to the glories contained within.
From the censer he lifted one of the most holy relics, a tiny fragment of impossibly thin cloth, soaked in a holy water that vanished into prayer – the cloth of ecstatic purification. With it, he began to write upon the unyeilding black surface. He drew the tetragrammaton, that is the name of the holy teacher whose spirit, whom they knew, from the historical documents, lived forever.
‘Y’, he wrote, the letter disappearing heavenward almost as soon as it had been written. Then he drew the perfect circle that was the second letter as best as his old hands could manage. ‘D’ he wrote then, and finally ‘A’, which is the beginning at the end.
He reached forward and, head bowed in deferential respect, he made so as to lift the holy book, and it yielded to his purity and righteousness, and opened for him. He wondered to look upon the holy words within, and gazed in fascination at the strange and pure blue light about the great primary rune.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head in silent prayer as the holy book whirred and sang, driving away the demons gathered around it. Terrified, he waited for its last and most vibrant song, and then waited six heartbeats more, for fear he might look upon the blue screen of death. Then, as he opened his eyes, he cried out ‘Hllljh!’, for written there, shining gloriously from the tablet of light were the holy words that proved him worthy.
‘Welcome to windows’
by submission | Dec 26, 2008 | Story
Author : William Tracy
The heroine was surrounded by towering aliens. Their gleaming carapaces reflected her shapely body, a flowing robe hugging her curves. Their glittering, faceted eyes took in the sight of her hands clutching the gash that revealed the ample curve of her heaving bosom. Their leader leaned forward and spoke, its breath foul with the stink of rot. “What have we here?”
She bared her brilliant white teeth in defiance. “Lieutenant Sarathura of the Terran Alliance.”
“A spy,” it noted the datapad gripped in her immaculate nails. “The penalty is death.”
Another alien stepped forward with a curved, jagged blade that reflected Sarathura’s deep blue eyes. As it raised its arms to make the killing blow, a bolt of plasma exploded in its face like a glowing flower. Sarathura gasped with joy.
“Our craft is docked back that way,” Commander Cloudstepper exclaimed in his deep, full voice. The sweat gleamed on his flexing muscles as he gunned down the monsters. The two heroes fled down the corridor, hand in hand.
“There are armored troopers after us,” Cloudstepper yelled after glancing over his broad, chiseled shoulder. “My plasma gun can’t shoot through their armor, and they’re gaining on us!”
Around the corner, they saw Officer Michealson. “Get in the airlock!” he commanded in his baritone. His thick muscles and throbbing veins bulged under his ebony skin as he lifted a heavy Gatling Laser. The weapon traced flickering calligraphy on the air as he blasted the encroaching menace.
Their craft separated from the alien ship, and jumped to lightspeed.
“They are too fast for us!” Cloudstepper gasped, staring at the instrument display. “Their heavy guns will destroy us before we reach friendly lines!”
“I have an idea,” Michealson gasped. “I could reverse the polarity of the flux capacitors, and project a warp bubble in the path of their vessel. We would have a 40% chance of trapping them in a parallel universe!”
“Let it be so!” Captain Cloudstepper commanded.
There was an ominous hum as the capacitors charged, then they went off. The quivering warp bubble was visible on the main viewscreen. The alien ship tried to dodge, but wasn’t quick enough. The bubble trapped the vessel, and both disappeared in a bright flash.
“We did it!” Sarathura gasped. “I escaped with the plans for the aliens’ secret weapon!” She and the captain embraced and kissed passionately.
* * *
Sarah pressed “Submit” and published the latest chapter of her novel to her website. “That should please the people who keep asking for more action.” She stretched, stood up.
Sarah walked into the bathroom, filled the tub. Then she undressed and climbed into the bath. After soaking for an hour, she got out and dried, then put on her bathrobe. She was putting on her slippers when when she heard a crash from in front of the house.
Sarah jogged toward the sound, then tripped over the power cord to her computer and fell into a bookcase. Sarah picked herself up, then cursed under her breath at the tear cutting her robe from her shoulder across her chest.
She stormed across the room, threw open the front door—and froze in panic.
The heroine was surrounded by towering aliens. Their gleaming carapaces reflected her shapely body, a flowing robe hugging her curves. Their glittering, faceted eyes took in the sight of her hands clutching the gash that revealed the ample curve of her heaving bosom. Their leader leaned forward and spoke, its breath foul with the stink of rot. “What have we here?”
by submission | Dec 24, 2008 | Story
Author : Mark Ingram
Filius was elated. He elatedly embraced his elatedness. His skyship soared just above the bulbous clouds, kicking up wake-mist when it graced the fluffy canopy. Before him, the sun appeared to be permanently stuck in its descent at the twilight hour, casting rays against the purple sky. Purple was his favorite color, and twilight was his favorite time of day; both filled him with a deep sense of blissfulness. He blissfully brimmed with bliss.
On the deck of his majestic ship, Filius bathed in the most soothing of oils, ate the most scrumptious of comestibles, and listened to the most exquisite of melodies. He viewed the most gorgeous of sceneries, smelled the most ambrosial of aromas, and perceived the most serene of affects. All his senses were immersed with the finest delights that he could desire. He gratifyingly indulged in gratification.
And he had Omni to thank for it.
Omni was infinitely benevolent, powerful, present, and knowing. In Omni’s immeasurable wisdom, Omni had created beings in Omni’s image, and Filius was among them. Of course, Omni wanted Omni’s creations to experience the most fulfilling lives possible, so Omni, possessing the inexorable aptitude to do so, fashioned a universe without pain or negative emotions—a universe overflowing with everything pleasurable.
For the beings involved, this included the unbridled capacity to act as they willed. Any idea could be conceived of; any object could be manifest; any action could be performed. Filius knew of Omni. He could envision this infinite designer who had bestowed immeasurable potential among his children and was more potent still. He could comprehend the proceedings of the members of his species and would be joyous because of them. He joyously enjoyed his joy. He could grasp the concepts of sadness, anger, and suffering and was able to rejoice that those would never befall him. His luxuries always brought him felicity, and if for some reason they ever lost their value, he could imagine a new time, a new place, and new comforts—all as valuable.
He felicitously contemplated his felicitousness. For a second, he visualized a universe without Omni or Omni’s influences. Down to the subtlest detail, he pondered the features of the organisms there. In his mind’s eye, Filius saw them—squishy, meaty beings fighting daily to survive without Omni’s gifts in hopes of shedding the surface layer of their misery. Without a second thought, he forgot their displeasure with a smile.
As his ship sailed off toward the eternal sunset, he happily resumed his happiness.
by submission | Dec 23, 2008 | Story
Author : Ari Brill
The galaxy is a dangerous and cutthroat place, with no room for the weak. So we have always known; intrinsic in the cruel laws of nature, all organisms must fight, or die. Knowing this, we were not unprepared. With the invention of hyperdrive came the invention of the hyper-torpedo, and with the invention of artificial gravity came the invention of the Gravitic Pulverizer. Not to say war was obligatory, of course. For instance, no one suggested attacking the Calee Empire upon first contact.
On the other hand, perhaps the Human Gravitic Pulverizer, capable of ripping apart a medium-sized star cruiser, was kept in line less by peaceful intentions than by the Calee Solar Annihilator, capable of ripping apart a medium-sized star.
Realizing this, we progressed rapidly in every facet of development befitting a newly minted interstellar empire. The Solar Annihilator rots in the Calee’s museums now, incapable of matching our most inferior weapons. We made contact with hundreds of species, and subjugated scores. The Grand Fleets of the Human Armada clashed with the hulking dreadnaughts of the Orthulla, never defeated in four thousand years, and emerged victorious. Trillions of humans swarm out from our fertile worlds, and see sights undreamed of only centuries ago. But one was so strange, so foreign, so impossible, that we at first thought we had made a mistake. One species, the Arpasi, had no space fleets, no weapons, no defensive platforms of any kind. They had never fought a single foreign war in the memory of even the longest-lived race. In short, they were totally pacifistic.
Surely, the traders who reported this back must have been mistaken. Such tall tales should not be believed by reasonable men. We asked the Calee, now reconciled and our greatest trading partners, if it were true. It was. “The Arpasi…yes, of course. They are a friendly species.” Unable to understand, we sent a secret delegation to the Hive-Home of the Krashni, to inquire of this matter to the Lords of the arachnid legions. The chitters we received in reply indicated only the same: the Arpasi are a friendly species. The subtle and complex wing-dances of the avian Zirkbo relayed a similar message, as did the deep rumbles of the Oowaan, the bitter transmissions of the ancient Orthulla, and the mocking chortles of the Hyakeks. In each of the highest councils of the myriad races of this galaxy, we received only one reply: the Arpasi are a friendly species. Reflecting on our own aggressive actions and the example of the peaceful and prosperous Arpasi, the Supreme Congress of Earth made a decision.
The Arpasi homeworld would make an excellent addition to the Empire of Humanity. It only took two days for a Grand Fleet to reach the planet. As per standard procedure, after failing to obtain an immediate surrender they glassed a continent and waited. The occupation commenced soon after. The Arpasi were rich, and the sack did not end for months. Unusually, the massacres only lasted several days.
That invasion occurred last year.
Today, the remnants of our once-glorious Grand Fleets flee in terror. Bashed and broken, they search for safe port but find none, for our planets are burned and shattered corpses. The alien vessels, black as death, have not reached Earth yet but they will soon.
Only now do we understand what we were told. The Arpasi are a friendly species.
And they have very, very powerful friends.
by submission | Dec 21, 2008 | Story
Author : Joey Cruz
There are certain rules in this world that we must abide by. We don’t always agree with them, and they rarely agree with us, but if we are to survive to see tomorrow, we need to place our personal feelings aside and just accept things for what they are.
Take rule #86, for instance.
Rule #86 states that every time someone speaks your name, it creates a duplicate of you.
Consider that.
Every time your parents ever scolded you using your full name, they’ve given birth to another you. Every time someone at the doctor’s office told you the doctor could see you now, somewhere in the world, another. Every time a lover cried it out in a fit of passion… another.
Think about that. Think about this thing you take for granted. This beautiful gift given to you by your ancestors and forefathers. Your name.
Imagine living in a world where your name was a curse instead of a gift.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
You people are so funny.
For us, your name wears *you* out. It hunts you down. It fights for survival. Tries to steal your life to save its own. After all, who is the real you when you all bear the same name?
But then… those are the rules. Just one more in an endless stream of governing laws that warp and disrupt and diminish our world, little by little, piece by piece, one name at a time.
I just wanted you to think about that. Remember it every time you sign a check. When you introduce yourself. When you gift your newborn child.
Remember rule #86, and remember that we are watching you, and we are waiting.
Every world has rules. You test the boundaries of yours every day. Someday you will find a way to break those rules, and in doing so, you will let us in.
And then you will have to learn the rules all over again.
See you soon.
Signed,
X
