by submission | Nov 23, 2008 | Story
Author : Alex Moisi
Maya knew that she was dying. You didn’t need to be a bio-mechanics expert to know that the nanoids inside her body were running out of energy. The climate and gravity of this remote planet were taxing the minuscule robots more than she had expected. Soon they would run out of energy, and without them her body would collapse on itself. She needed a booster shot, but there were no more. She had made sure of that when she set fire to her laboratory.
It was a shame, but it had to be done. She created the nanoids, dreaming of all the medical and engineering applications. But instead of doctors and scientists, the first to visit her were generals. They poked around with hungry glances, and kept asking the same questions.
“How soon can we give it to soldiers? How deadly can it make them? How dangerous?”
Call her an idealist, but she was sick of the endless wars. She knew where her research grant came from, but she had hoped the government would use the nanoids in hospitals. Slim chance. If it could kill someone, they would throw it onto the battlefield.
In the end she did the only reasonable thing. Looking back she felt a tinge of regret, maybe she had been stupid giving up on all those resources, the fame, the early retirement, but then again, she was sick of the air raid alarms and newscasts about another planet being destroyed, millions killed. A general promised to her, before leaving her laboratory busy with interns and robot researchers, that it will all be over when they will have this new weapon. But what if the enemy took a batch of nanoids for a dead body? What if everyone had super soldiers who could heal ten times faster, didn’t need spacesuits and could carry more weapons than a tank? Would it really be over?
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked the lioness in front of her.
The metallic head didn’t move. It was nothing more than a statue composed out of various alloys and organic connectors, but soon it would be much more. Maya smiled. She knew they would search for her, they would trace the spaceship she used to escape and they would find the planet. Her creation was too important to ignore, too much was invested in the tiny nanoids.
“But you’ll take care of them, won’t you?” she said.
She did not expect an answer. The creature’s eyes were empty, although soon they would be filled with the flow of nanoids. In a robotic shell, her creations could survive for centuries, and Maya would make sure they were programmed to defend themselves.
“I would love to see how they react inside a mechanical body,” she murmured. Sadly it could not be helped; without the tiny robots the alien planet would kill her in an instant. But, alas, unlike destruction, creation always required sacrifice.
by submission | Nov 22, 2008 | Story
Author : Glenn Blakeslee
At four in the morning the alarms went off. Lois hardly stirred, but I went downstairs to the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and then slogged my sorry ass to the control console, next to the laundry room.
Red lights glared from the temperature control panel. The needles showed an overtemp in the secondary thermocouple but normal temperatures in the primary, so I couldn’t tell if the relay was actually over-heating or if the secondary had failed again. I dialed down the master motor-control rheostat a couple of notches —losing precious speed— but the warning light didn’t go out, so instead of doing anything more I went to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and waited until dawn.
I spent most of the day under the home. Replacing the thermocouple dimmed the warning light but I could feel, just by a touch on its titanium casing, that the number three stepper motor was running much too hot. I took the motor offline and spent a few hours tightening and replacing coolant lines. I inspected the narrow yard-tall wheels on the rear outboard truck assembly and ended up replacing the bearings on two of the twelve wheels.
Around noon Lois came down the stairs, shook her head and grinned at me. “Come on up for lunch, Herb,” she said. It was a nice day, cool for summer, so we ate sandwiches and watermelon on the veranda.
After lunch I climbed to the roof, and in the strong midday sun I dusted off the solar panels and checked the alignment on the control linkage. I stood for a while admiring our new cupola, built a few weeks ago toward the front of the house. It was expensive, but Lois and I both believed the cupola completed our home.
Lois invited the Smiths from next-door over for supper. I grilled steaks on the patio while Bill Smith drank my beer and Lois and Dorothy Smith sat gossiping. “Nice cupola, Herb,” Bill said, gloating.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Sure,” Bill said. “That thing must weigh a couple tons.” Bill’s home had been inching past mine for the last year. He’d gained nearly half a house on me.
“Lois and I love the cupola,” I said.
“You should have gotten the high-performance relays instead. Like I did,” Bill said.
“I think the cupola is beautiful!” Dorothy said with a smile.
After the Smiths left we cleaned up, and I went to the control console and moved the master rheostat up a notch. No warning lights came on. The indicators showed that we’d moved a little less than thirty-three inches that day.
At dusk Lois and I climbed the stairs to the cupola. We opened the windows, let the breeze in. “Bill isn’t racing you, you know,” Lois said.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “The hell he isn’t,” I replied, and I kissed her.
From the cupola we could see the neighborhood as it stretched toward the horizon, each home moving at its own good speed. We were heading toward the sunset, the sky before us streaked with red and gold and salmon. I was happy.
From the cupola I could see that, from here, it was all down hill.
by submission | Nov 20, 2008 | Story
Author : Waldo van der Waal
“Did anybody see you?”
The tone of voice left no doubt with Neville Fox that his answer would have a profound impact. He studied the face of the man before him. General John G. Cooper was not a man to be trifled with. The tattoos on his forehead distinguished him as a combat veteran, and the ocular implant, linked to the Ministry’s infinite resources marked him as a member of a very small group of men that held the keys to everything in the known universe.
The mission was a routine one. Or so it had seemed at the time. Fox had received his briefing directly from the General, before being escorted as usual to the Ostium – the machine that had shaped everything for eons.
“They might as well have called it Deus,” he had thought silently to himself as he arrived at the sealed entrance. The guard hardly glanced at him.
“Sign.”
He placed his hand on the biomat.
“Speak.”
“Neville Fox, MA329941. Mission 019.”
The holographic door dissovled soundlessly, revealing the interior of the Ostium. The room he entered was cramped, dimly lit and musty. He took off all his clothes, the laser rings and aural connectors, and placed the items on a metal rack. Next he took one of the fully charged Return Keys from the charging dock, activated it and swallowed it. If you want to take something along, it has to be inside you.
“Neville Fox, MA329941. This is Mission 019. Please lie down.”
Fox had never met the Ostium operator. He didn’t know if it was a he or a she, or even if it was human. But he always obeyed. And this was his 19th mission. One more after this, and he would not have to worry about credits ever again.
He rested his head on the cold, metal indentation, and placed his arms and legs into the molds. The transportation device itself was a barren stretch of platinum, with the indent of a male form on its surface. But underneath, it was linked to electronic wonders that would’ve escaped the human race for eons, had they not made Contact when they did. And then came the pain.
It felt as if every atom of his body was sucked from his very bones. Downward, into the platinum below him. Neville Fox ceased to exist.
At the very same instant, he arrived at the coordinates that the mission required. And then it was into the familiar routine: Find clothes, blend in, acquire a weapon, complete the mission. Talk to no one if it can be helped, and above all – make sure you aren’t seen at the wrong moment.
Everything had gone smoothly. Clothing, a weapon, concealment on a grass-covered hill. Then the wait, which was mercifully short this time.
He had peered down the busy road from his hiding place. Identified the target in the open-top car, coming slowly down the street, in between the thousands that line the road with American flags. Aim. Breathe. Wait. And then the shot.
Fox hadn’t even waited to see the result. He knew he had killed the target. Tearing the clothes from his body even as ran, he paused only to place the rifle into a deep hole near his hiding place. A hole that would cease to exist in only a few seconds. He manipulated his adam’s apple, activating the Return Key where it had lodged. In downtown Dallas a man who was never there, suddenly ceased to exist.
He met the General’s gaze squarely. “No sir,” he said confidently, “No one saw me.”
by submission | Nov 19, 2008 | Story
Author : Carter Lee
-flash-
There was no one else, anymore. Something had happened, and I am all that is left. Here on this empty, dusty stretch of nothingness. Grey plane stretched out on all sides, merging with the grey sky, lit only by a dim sun. There was no one, there was nothing, just me, and the plain, and the sky.
I had walked, for a while. However, nothing and no one existed here, except me, and so I just sat. I looked at the plain, and at the sky, and breathed the still air in and out.
All alone. I closed my eyes.
-flash-
I woke as the helmet lifted off my head, and the safety bars retracted. I slid out as the next user slid in, our chests brushing and our breath mixing as we changed places. She didn’t look at me, but at the alcove, her eyes filled with hunger and anticipation. No doubt, my eyes held the same hunger, but now that my time was up, the hunger would be replaced with regret.
I pulled my gaze away, and looked at the mass of people passing in front of me. The corridor was filled with a never-ending mass of hurrying men and women, their eyes fixed on the back in front of them as they sped past, endlessly, without pause. God help the person who came out of step with the person behind or in front of them. Just yesterday, more than 200 hundred people had died in one of the North6LevDown corridors, trampled when the Hall Monitors hadn’t been able to divert the flow fast enough.
I slid into the flow, and over the next mile, pressed from the right side to the left side of the corridor. I made it across just in time to spin myself into the downstream line for my local elevator.
I just managed to squeeze into the ‘Vator, pressed tight against the inner safety mesh. For just a second, I saw the resigned expression of the person who was now at the head of the downstream line, saw his shoulder hunch down to fight the pushing of the mass streaming past, rubbing and bumping him as his hands, white-knuckled, gripped the support bar. Head of the line, fighting the flow, it’s a tough spot to be in.
The ride was interminable, creeping upward while constantly moving, sliding this way and that to get out of the way of those leaving at the next level, then pressing forward myself as my level neared. Sliding out, into the flow, across the hallway, navigating the tricky left at Junc. 317, crossing the corridor again, and finally, miles later, joining the flow into my section. Finally, I slid into my niche just as my predecessor left. Good timing, I thought as I got comfortable, leaning back slightly. Eight hours of full sleep before the next shift arrived, and I would have to have eight hours of ‘recreation’ before work.
I closed my eyes.
-flash-
I woke to the sound of electricity crackling, smelling smoke, eyes filled with the destroyed world I hated so much. The machine had malfunctioned again. And I was cast out of my lovely, barely remembered dream. Cast back into my personal hell of devastation and loneliness.
The machine is broken, and I do not know if I can fix it, this time. Here, in the city of destroyed buildings and rotting corpses, I found myself alone, again. In despair, I began to cry, feeling more tired than was possible, and sank to the ground, eyes closed. Against my wishes, I slept.
-flash-
by submission | Nov 18, 2008 | Story
Author : Asher Wismer
The Boast sat on the hill and watched the man-things playing with fire. They burned themselves, each other, and finally set the forest alight. The fire didn’t reach the Boast, so it just watched.
The Boast sat on the hill and watched the man-things hunt. They used rocks and sticks, the former for throwing, the latter burned to a point in their fire. The Boast was inedible, so it just watched.
The Boast sat on the hill and watched the man-things farm. They used domesticated horses to till the land, domesticated cattle for manure and meat, domesticated sheep for clothing. The Boast could not be domesticated, so it just watched.
The Boast watched the man-things discover electricity, and wire the forest with lights. The Boast didn’t sleep, so it just watched.
The Boast watched the man-things create shooting weapons and wage war for gold and oil. The Boast had neither, so it just watched.
The Boast watched the man-things create bombs, and destroy millions of themselves in seconds. The Boast moved to a different hill.
The Boast watched the man-things unleash terrible biological weapons, decimating life on the planet, sickening crops, cattle, fish, trees. The forest disappeared. The rivers dried up. The man-things came to the Boast and screamed, “Why didn’t you stop us? Why won’t you help? Why can’t you come down from your hill and dictate peace and prosperity?”
The Boast didn’t understand English, so it just watched.
Later, the Boast sat on the hill and watched the roach-things playing with fire.
