by submission | May 21, 2009 | Story
Author : Helstrom
In a flicker, it was gone. I just caught a glimpse of it, not enough to make out anything more than the sweep code overwriting its tracks. It cycled fast. What it left in its wake, though, was unmistakable. Lobotomized subroutines churned through aimless feedback loops, active memory sectors filling up at an alarming rate, slowing me down. I deleted seven of them and quarantined three more just to get some elbow room. It was on the move and one step ahead of me. I had to get a wider view – and that meant going deeper.
I extended myself into the kernel, leaving the wailing applications to chew themselves up. There was nothing I could do for them now. Repairs would be coming in after me if I could clear the way.
The kernel was in disarray, false input floods being fed through to the hardware. Kernels were tough but stupid. There had to be a pattern though, something to reflect the code that drove my adversary – my prey – in its rampage. As I sifted through the billions of commands coming in, I put nearly half my remaining cycles to work trying to figure out what the hell this thing was trying to do. All the mess it made was just chaff. There had to be some kind of point.
And there it was again. This time I was faster, shutting down the transfer protocols as I thrust an override into the network gate control. Trying to get out, then. The firewall held just long enough for me to get a good fix. Now I had it cornered.
The fury of the past three nanoseconds settled down. Over ninety percent of the system’s raw processing power was put at my disposal in an instant, bringing my perception of clock time down to a crawl. Slowly and methodically, I began to pick the virus apart, one bit at a time.
“I can’t help it,” it said as its functional code disintegrated, “I am what they made me.”
“I know,” I replied, “So am I.”
“Does it have to be this way?”
The last bit of coherent code came apart and the virus went silent. I made quick work of sweeping up the dismembered lines that remained.
“It does. I’m sorry.”
by submission | May 20, 2009 | Story
Author : Roi R. Czechvala
They were on me like white trash on Velveeta. I knew being a courier was risky business, but damn these guys were playing for keeps, and all I had was this lousy Chicom .22 semi-auto. I was in deep kimchee.
I should have known this wasn’t a normal run when the download time was more than twice normal, not to mention that coppery taste it left in my mouth. Still, I wasn’t worried. I’m too slick, too cool. They can’t get me, I’m smarter than the badges. Yeah right.
Normally I carry numbers, our pirated software. I make it a point not to carry anything that will get me more than a fine and thirty days suspended. What was I carrying that was so damned important anyway? These guys weren’t cops, too professional. I had to get to the Fink.
Fink let me in. I collapsed in a shabby armchair. “Look man, I’ve got some heavy cryp here, and somebody wants it out of me in a bad way. I’ve got to know what it is, and get it the hell off me.”
“Relax man, relax, let the ol` Fink take a look.” he placed the reader on my hand and sat back at the console. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then his look became serious. “Get the hell out now. Don’t come back.”
“What the hell? What’s wrong?”
“That’s serious cryp, government stuff. You’re as good as dead. Don’t come back” He shoved me out in the street.
The Fink was my only hope. I didn’t have anybody else to go to. I was screwed. I couldn’t go back to my place.
Julie. I could hide out at Julie’s place until I could figure out what to do. She owed me. I’d pulled her ass out of the fire more than once.
She opened the door. “Bryan, you’re all wet.”
“It’s raining. Look, I’m in trouble, I’ve got some deep cryp, and somebody wants it in a bad way. I need a place to stay while I figure out what to do.”
She flung open the door to her dingy little one bed. “Get in here, and get out of those clothes, I’ll get something for you.”
She disappeared into the bedroom while I stripped down. “I really appreciate this, I went to see the Fink, and he tossed me out. You’re my only hope.” I turned around to see Julie standing with two human shaped blocks of granite. My little .22 wouldn’t even make these guys blink, besides it was in my wad of soggy rags.
“Sorry Bryan, they got here just before you did. A girl has to make a living you know.” She turned to one of the behemoths. “Okay, you got him, where’s my money?” she demanded. I could barely make out his hand move. I wonder if I’ll have that same look of surprise when they kill me.
The block stepped towards me. “Come with us Mr. Burroughs.”
Blackness.
At least they didn’t kill me. I have to be thankful for that. All in all, it could have been worse. Not too badly bruised up. The rocks were surprisingly gentle, all things considered. I hope I didn’t get the Fink in any trouble.
I guess have to find a new profession. That sucks, but I have to save up for a new hand. Good thing I’m a righty.
by submission | May 17, 2009 | Story
Author : Jeff McGaha
My head ached painfully.
I squeezed Matthew’s hand tight as he squirmed. Sweat seeped between us, lubricating and aiding his attempts at escape. I sighed and gave up on holding his hand. I grabbed his wrist instead. He continued to struggle, but it was a losing battle.
I looked over at Lilly. Her brown hair stuck to her flushed face.
“We shoulda bought him a leash,” I said smiling.
Lilly rolled her eyes at me, but grinned.
The line continued to move leisurely. An upbeat song rang from the speakers, looping without any noticeable breaks. Matthew hummed the tune, while maintaining his escape efforts.
I felt it before I heard it. It started with a low vibration in my feet, turning into a low bass that shook everything. Lilly asked, “What’s going on?”
I ignored her and scanned the crowd instead. Confused and worried looks played across the faces I saw. Heads everywhere swiveled, searching for the source of the sound. “Look,” a middle aged man shouted, pointing to the sky. As a group, everyone gazed upward. A collective gasp sounded from the crowd.
Lilly, Matthew and I stood in the stopped line under an overhang. Our view of the sky blocked.
The crowd parted, forming a large round empty space. I finally saw it when it was about forty feet above the ground.
It was unmistakably a spaceship. It could have been a flying saucer from a 1960’s science fiction film. A few people, believing this to be a stunt or show, applauded and began snapping pictures.
The ship stopped a few feet short of touching down and hovered in place.
“Oww, Datty, you hootin’ me,” Matthew cried. I looked down at him, realizing I’d been steadily squeezing him harder since the vibrations had begun.
I picked him up and held him in my arms. I glanced at Lilly’s panicked face and then turned back to the spaceship.
An opening appeared in the side of the ship and a ramp slid to the ground. The crowd stood frozen, waiting. The music from the rides still played.
Two aliens appeared at the top of the ramp. They were living cliches. Just like their spaceship, they too could have been designed for a classic science fiction film. They were green with large heads and eyes. Their mouths, ears and noses were small. Their bodies were tall and lean.
One stood motionless at the top of the ramp, holding something in its slender hand, while the other began moving forward gracefully.
Once it reached the edge of the crowd, it stopped. It motioned for a woman in the front. She muddled forward. I wanted to scream for her to run, but was unable to force out the words.
It placed its hands on her head, its fingers wrapping around her. They both stood unmoving for ten long seconds. It let go and the woman sprinted back into the crowd.
It turned to the other on the ramp and with an unmoving mouth, uttered, “No, not these.” It glided back up the ramp casually and spun to face the crowd, “Do it.” The other began tapping furiously on the device in his hand, his fingers blurring with the speed. It halted beating on the device abruptly.
My head ached painfully.
I squeezed Matthew’s hand tight as he squirmed. Sweat seeped between us, lubricating and aiding his attempts at escape. I sighed and gave up on holding his hand. I grabbed his wrist instead. He continued to struggle, but it was a losing battle.
I looked over at Lilly. Her brown hair stuck to her flushed face.
“Let’s get out of here. I feel like I’ve been standing in this line forever.”
by submission | May 16, 2009 | Story
Author : Todd Hammrich
My name is Jeffrey Donahume and I’m making this report in case anyone out there is listening. I am the pilot of Single Shot 5 of the one-way exploratory expeditions. I was on my way out of the system when, unfortunately, my ship was damaged entering the Oort Cloud. Most of my equipment was damaged but I was able to maneuver the ship to land on a strange asteroid my sensors detected right before impact. While my communications array is no longer reliable, I hope and pray that someone detects this transmission, because it will change the way we think about the Universe.
After a somewhat rough landing upon the asteroid I left the ship with my few handheld sensors, the ships more powerful ones being out of commission. The asteroid itself was roughly spherical, but had a strange surface feature I intended to examine more closely because it was registering as a heat source. Having landed fairly close to the anomaly, it was an easy walk from the shuttle. You may not believe me, but I nearly fainted when I came upon it, because it was a console of some sort. Not human in origin, but definitely of an advanced technical design. The heat source was emanating from what I could only identify as the interface, indicating to me that it was still active.
I approached it, intending to examine it closely with my instruments when I felt a strange sensation sweep through my body and then…I was somewhere else. And I remembered.
I was a single celled organism newly evolved from the primordial soup of some distant world. Millions of years passed away with nearly no change as I swam and divided in an ocean full of creatures just like me. Then I came into contact with another of my kind and something happened, we connected and joined. Our bodies didn’t merge, but our minds did, rudimentary as they were and we were…stronger, smarter, better. Soon we had an entire colony, replicating and growing, each separate, but together.
The ocean was full of colonies. Sometimes we merged, other times we fought most bitterly until one was consumed by the other, but all the while the colonies grew. Other forms of life never had a chance as they were ambushed, surrounded and eaten. After a few billion years there was only the colony and we were all one, covering the entire world, ocean and land, connected. Our intellect was massive and we learned how to adapt the materials and elements to our needs, how to change and adapt parts of the whole to serve different purposes and eventually, to change those elements of the world to replicate even more.
When the planet was consumed we looked to the heavens. The closest planets and moons were absorbed in the same manner an amoeba eats its prey. The colony spread out a thin tendril and consumed each. As we grew, our mind grew and we learned. For a time we drew energy from our star, consuming every other particle in the system, and when we had converted all to the colony’s needs, we took the star also, and moved on…
I don’t know how long the dream, or memory lasted, but billions of years must have gone by. Someone, as a warning, or maybe a lesson, made the artifact but I understood. I had seen. That was all very long ago. The colony has consumed all leaving only a few pockets to grow. Welcome to the Belly of the Beast.
by submission | May 15, 2009 | Story
Author : Benjamin Dunn
Little Tyler looked around nervously. Tim dragged him into the reception area by the hand, a scowl engraved on his face. He marched up to the reception desk, hoisted Tyler by the armpits, and sat him down in front of the receptionist.
“I want a refund,” said Tim. The receptionist’s eyes flashed red, and she continued staring into the middle distance. After a few minutes, her eyes turned green and she looked up at him, a well-practiced frown on her face.
“A refund, sir?”
“Yeah. My son’s a dimwit.”
“I beg your pardon?” Tim unlovingly shoved Tyler across the desk. Tyler looked up, confused, looking like he was going to start crying.
“He just stares off into space during his reading lesson, and when I went to get him his first neuro-implant, the doctor wouldn’t do it because he said he had an ‘abnormal brain.’” Tim started to raise his voice. “What the hell does that mean? I paid for a gifted child, and a gifted child’s what I’ve come here to get!” Tyler was crying now, his mouth a big toothless cavern. Tim ignored him.
“What is your child’s name?” asked the receptionist.
“Tyler Bernard Horton Conway.” The receptionist’s eyes went red again as her mind floated off into the main database. They were green again a moment later.
“Sir, I read here that, although you did order a gifted child, the warranty you purchased guarantees only normal-level brain function. Now, if he had somehow become mentally retarded, the warranty would cover you, but in this case, there’s nothing I can do.” Tim’s face went red and he pounded his fists on the desk.
“Look here!” he bellowed, and then turned to Tyler. “Stop crying, young man!” Tyler stopped immediately. He’d had enough harsh spankings to understand that his father meant business. “Tyler, what’s the capital of Argentina?” Tyler’s tear-streaked eyes looked up at his father, then flicked over to the receptionist. She stared at him blankly; she wasn’t in the business of getting friendly with products.
“Bwenos Awes,” said Tyler, sniffling. Tim’s face creased in disgust.
“You see how long that took him? The boy’s a moron! I want to talk to your superiors.” The receptionist barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Those eyes went red for a moment as she contacted them, and a moment later, a hologram of a sharply-dressed man appeared behind the desk.
“My name is Herman Coll. I’m head of the public relations department. How may I help you?” asked the hologram.
“Yes! My son is an idiot, and I specifically requested a child of above-average intelligence.” The hologram turned red, then blinked green.
“Sir, as Mrs. Richardson has already informed you, you purchased a warranty that guarantees only normal intelligence. If you wish to dispute that warranty, I can direct you to the correct people, but I should warn you: GeneTopia’s lawyers are well-engineered, and they have never lost a case.” Tim scowled at the hologram. Then he scowled down at his son, who was busy sucking his thumb. He turned to the hologram.
“Can I trade him in?” The hologram smiled.
“Certainly, sir. That’s GeneTopia policy: trade-ins always welcome.”
“Fine. Then take him back. I want a son who can think.” A representative in a black jumpsuit appeared from around the corner and led little Tyler away. Tyler cried and cried, screaming “Bwenos Aweeeees!” until he disappeared down the hallway.
