by submission | Sep 27, 2008 | Story
Author : Alec Ow
My parents always told me the Cold was a gateway bug. All throughout middle-school and for most of high-school I was pretty clean. Then I saw one of my friends coming to school with the sniffles.
He didn’t really try to hide it from anyone, thinking back now it seemed like he was wearing it like a badge with pride. I have to admit I got a little curious so I asked him about it. The whole time he was talking about how it makes you feel the world differently, how it numbs your senses. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would put themselves through that willingly. I laughed it off as just a bunch of rebellious teens trying to shake their fists at authority.
It wasn’t until I tried it that I started to understand. Having been without disease for innumerable generations, Humankind had lost touch with what it was to be mortal. Having humanity’s essence backed up in the central database ensured that death was only a temporary condition. There was a movement a few generations back where a bunch of death seekers got together to find the wildest way to die. They got it all wrong, when one dies only the moment before death is felt. It wasn’t a very long high.
When death is trivial, everyone’s a god. When everyone’s a god, the concept of a God is lost through dilution.
My first time at a bug party was pretty wild. The wildest bunch was probably the STDers. Something about adding sex to the equation definitely made everything seem so much more taboo. I took my hit of de-immunizer and hit up a double dose of the common cold and a shot of influenza then finished off with an accelerator. We hung out all weekend in a daze. It was the first time I’ve ever really felt human.
I think I should wrap up this journal entry soon before my Alzheimer’s kicks in. It reminds me of what my parents used to say, about how the Cold is the gateway bug. I still remember my first time being submerged in the culture. I saw one of my friends coming to school with the sniffles. He almost wore it with pride…
by Patricia Stewart | Sep 26, 2008 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
As I flew through the Rio Bravo Corridor in western Texas, the town of El Paso rose above the horizon. I banked northward and began a gradual arc to align my ship with the Juárez Flyway. I descended to 100 meters and throttled back to 50 kph. The streets appeared to be deserted. I knew that I was taking a big chance returning to Earth. But, I was willing to risk death to be with Felina. If all went well, in two days we’d dock at my hideout in the badlands of the asteroid belt, assuming we could avoid the Rangers. I spotted Rosa’s Cantina on the left, and picked out a landing bay on the upper level. After touchdown, I powered down the ship’s reactor and popped the canopy. Sensor readings were clear. I unbuckled my harness, and began to climb down the exterior of the ship using the “holds” along the fuselage. When my right foot touched the ground I heard a deep metallic voice from the shadows behind me, “Don’t turn around, Robbins.”
Damn, an android, I realized too late. If the bounty hunter had been human, I might have had a chance. Humans can be bribed, or out-gunned, but not a ‘droid. Using the lowest power setting on my implant, I mentally instructed the ship to arm the port thrusters. Hopefully, the ‘droid was too far away to detect the low intensity transmission. It was a desperate move, but if I could knock it off balance for just a fraction of a second, I might be able to reach my blaster.
I could see the ‘droid’s distorted reflection in the polished skin of my ship. I watched it approach, weapon drawn. When it walked in front of the thrusters, I transmitted the command. At the instant the thrusters fired, I spun and reached for my blaster, but I was too slow. I felt a deep burning pain in my side as the ‘droid’s neuronic disrupter hit its mark. The agonizing pain spread to my back and legs, and I collapsed. Stars exploded in my eyes when the back of my head hit the tarmac. I could taste blood as my universe convulsed. The ‘droid stowed its disrupter and stood above me, making sure that I was neutralized. It picked me up by the front of my flightsuit and pinned my back against the fuselage of my ship. “Your running days were over, Robbins,” it said as it placed a neutralizing collar around my neck. My next stop would be the Rehabilitation Facility in San Angelo, where I would get a mind wipe and a “Correctional” implant; one that would force me to serve humanity for the rest of my life. Most outlaws ended up as Rangers, where we’d be used to hunt down our compadres. No, I concluded with conviction. I could not allow that to happen. It must end here. I forced the relentless waves of pain from my mind, and focused on my ship’s master control console. I ordered the computer to bring the reactor on line, and to initiate an immediate self-destruct sequence.
Seconds later, I was looking into the ‘droid’s bloodless “eyes” as the ship’s reactor began to whine to a deafening crescendo. Its mechanical irises spiraled open as it realized what I had done. I managed a half smile as I spat, “See you in hell, ‘droid.” The last image I saw was the relatively dark silhouette of my shadow across the ‘droid’s back as it attempted in vein to escape the antimatter explosion.
by submission | Sep 25, 2008 | Story
Author : Asher Wismer
It was about the size of a leaf, but a little flatter, with scalloped edges and covered all over with a glimmering sheen of circuitry. At one end, a little nozzle protruded, making a gentle swell in the surface of the leaf, while other, smaller holes ringed the circumference.
There were millions of them.
I watched from the dark surface of Mercury, feeling the faint, persistent gravity pull of the Sun beneath my feet. Mercury itself was just large enough (to one standing on its surface) to obscure the Sun from view, but everything in the “night” sky still seemed unnaturally bright.
I shifted in my heavy suit, resisting the urge to take my helmet off and scratch that point right between my shoulder blades, and watched the soft rain of leaves.
They weren’t really leaves, of course. With micro-micro processing reaching the theoretical limit possible without resorting to quantum mechanics, these were little more than chips of solar cell material, an electrolytic fuel generator, and a tiny gas reservoir in the center. Smelters, assemblers, and of course the hundreds of redundant computer chips that would one day form a cohesive brain.
In a few hours, the sun would rise over Mercury’s horizon, and the little leaf-ships would absorb and release massive amounts of solar energy, accelerating to .05 the speed of light.
Here, on the current dark side of the slowly rotating mini-planet, everything was gray and dusk, no sharp shadows of any sort. Even the shining star of Venus was dulled by distance, and the only things reflecting were the little leaf-ships. Far beyond, the glow of Earth was dulled by pollution and decay.
Once the little ships reached the Asteroid Belt, they would home in on Ceres, the largest known asteroid. They would use their miniscule fuel stash to decelerate and, buffeted by the faint solar winds, would land on Ceres’s surface. There, the smelters would smelt, the assemblers would assemble, and eventually they would build a rocket engine to steer Ceres out of its millennia-long orbit.
It would crash into the North Pole of Mars, vaporizing the mostly CO2 icecap and release it into the atmosphere. The added atmosphere thickness would help warm the planet, taking years off the projected time necessary to terraform it.
I would be long dead, of course. It had taken all my money to build the little fleet, and all the fuel I had left to get me to Mercury. This was my final project, my life’s work, and I would last long enough in my reinforced suit to watch the little leaf-ships flash into life with the Sun’s rays. The morphine injector would do the rest before the sun had a chance to boil me alive.
For the living, I make my final sacrifice.
by submission | Sep 24, 2008 | Story
Author : Roi R. Czechvala
It was just a routine patrol. Twelve men. Whitcomb was on point; I was bringing up the rear. He had just forded a narrow stream when they hit us. Claymores blew hell out of the main body. Seven died instantly. There was no mistaking that. When chunks of bodies fly, somebody wasn’t going home.
A couple of guys returned fire, shooting blindly into the jungle, the others were too stunned to move. Whitcomb splashed back across the creek. He emptied mags and reloaded as fast as possible; shooting randomly.
Green tracers ripped out of the dense brush. One tore through Mock’s head, still burning bright when it slammed into a tree behind him. Damnit, we were from the same home town. Now, suddenly, he was face down in the muck. Dead. It could have been me.
I pumped my 203 as fast as I could feed shells into the breech, lobbing grenades everywhere. I could hear the muffled “crump” of their explosions. They did little damage. Their blasts were absorbed by the thick foliage and mud.
I was protected from the hail of bullets by the roots of a tree I had fallen behind. The barrage was relentless. I winced at the screams of rage and pain as the guys fought back, furiously spraying the jungle; chucking frags everywhere. All I could do was pop up and fire a burst wherever I saw a muzzle flash. I jumped up and squeezed off a short burst. A searing pain ripped through my arm. I fell back into my hole, cowering like a frightened rabbit.
The firefight seemed to last for hours, but it had been only minutes from the first blast to the final round that whizzed past. I could hear the muffled voices of gooks in the forest. I eased up just enough to see them slowly emerge from the mist. I watched the bastards viscously stabbing the bodies of my friends to make sure they were dead.
One started yelling in that tinker toy language of theirs, motioning the others to Walker’s body. They prodded him, then were silent for a moment. A fierce argument broke out and they beat feet back into the undergrowth. I waited for hours before leaving my sanctuary. I wanted to be sure the slopes were gone. I had to collect the dog tags, the little metal tokens that proved my friends had once lived.
I couldn’t see very well in the growing gloom, but I finally managed to make out a blood smeared piece of aluminum on what had been Walker’s chest. I tried to pick it up, but it wouldn’t budge. What the hell? I grabbed and pulled…his body moved with it. It was a rib. I fell back in horror and stumbled over Mock’s body. The back of his skull was a twisted wreckage of metal and wire. I turned my head to vomit. I saw a thick silvery rod poking out of Shavers leg where a femur should have been. What the hell was going on?
Horrified, I crashed through the brush. Tripping over an exposed root, I was sent sprawling. I pushed myself up, got to my feet. I glanced down at my forearm where the bullet had grazed me, the glint of metal caught my eye. Confusion left me, and was replaced with a wave of realization.
I chambered a grenade in my 203, and slapped in a fresh mag. I headed back to the fire base. Somebody had some explaining to do.
by submission | Sep 23, 2008 | Story
Author : Ben ‘Inorian’ Le Chevalier
Invas charged forward, his sights set firmly on his enemy. The blood was rushing through his body, filling him with life and vigour. The only thing he could see was his prey. He leapt, and bore his adversary to the ground. His spear moved smoothly through the man’s lower abdomen until it thudded into the ground. The body slowly sank down the rough wooden shaft. Invas stood up and let loose a roar that sent birds flying from the nearby trees and small creatures bounding off through the parched undergrowth. Something was wrong. He turned, pulling the spear from his fallen enemy and levelling it at the new threat. As he watched with horror, the crude rope holding the flint onto the wood shaft unravelled, and before it hit the dust he felt a spear penetrating his chest.
The world went dark.
Invas charged forward, his eyes scanning the enemy ranks. His brothers in arms, his countrymen ran with him. He found a suitable mark in the enemy lines and hastened his pace. Invas drew back his arm, felt the weight of his weapon and balanced it, ready to strike. He ducked under the enemy’s spear and struck, smoothly running the bronze sword home, through the leather and deep into the soldier’s stomach. He tore it out with a grunt and spun, deflecting the sword that had been heading for his back. His new adversary turned the deflection into a spin, and brought the sword round, redirecting it into Invas’ own chest, tearing through bronze, skin and bone.
The world went dark.
Invas charged forward, gunshots firing all around him. He held his Enfield .303 to his chest and, head down, rushed towards the enemy position. Bullets whistled past him, hitting more than a few of his squad, but he kept moving. He was on the enemy emplacement. Invas shot the first man he saw, taking him out with a clean shot through the eye. Not having time to reload he smoothly stabbed the next man he saw with the bayonet. As he struggled to free it from the fallen man Invas felt a cold rush, and a blade in his lower back. As he fell to the floor he heard a man shout ‘Was zum Teufel?!’ and a gun cock.
The world went dark.
Invas charged forward, dodging swiftly between pulses left and right. His scanners picked up a signature in the nearby asteroids and he ran the engine to full throttle. He powered up the mech’s weapons as he rounded the rock and let loose a volley of his own pulses. The enemy mech was punctured by several of them, and failed to respond to its pilot’s frantic commands. Invas put the saber of his mech through its stomach and kicked it away. As he flew from the asteroids another volley of pulses fired at him. He twisted the mech and tried to escape, but a pulse caught his main engine, which offlined. As he desperately tried to get the engine to respond another volley of pulses squarely hit him. He was thrown backwards, and the cockpit filled with red light.
The world went dark.
Floating in limbo, Invas wondered what the next life would hold.
by Duncan Shields | Sep 22, 2008 | Story
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
I felt sick.
I had a fever and a headache and my joints were complaining. I shuffled across my carpet into the light. I stood looking out over the city while holding a steaming zipmug of CitruSinus in my hand. The windows overlooked a new age of wonder. It was a sunny day.
It would continue to be sunny until 4:10PM when a light shower would cover up the sunset. It’s the way I organized it. I’m the mayor. One of my duties before the dawn was to decide the day’s weather. It was my favourite part of my job these days. The job had gotten rough.
The secession of the East Side into its own forceful municipality had hurt my ratings. The arming of the homeless by the opposition had further damaged my career. The tasers and plasmawatt shockers were ostensibly for defense but assaults had doubled since they handed them out and vigilante action was on the rise as a result. The police were threatening to strike. I was about a day away from declaring martial law and going down in history as a Bloodmayor.
The city I had tried to help was almost out of my control. The people who voted for me were threatening to riot. I sighed and looked at my city and took another sip of my drink. There was smoke coming from the east side again. I heard distant sirens on the way.
I told the window to zoom in on the source of the smoke. The news channels covering that area blossomed in my peripheral vision as the window targeted and refocused. An ambulance had been tipped over and was burning in another east side riot. The lifeless drivers were being torn apart by a laughing crowd of pierced hysterical head-boys.
I thumbed my lapel and gave the order for a clearout. Two seconds later, a blast of light lanced down from the sky and incinerated a circular footprint ten meters in diameter around the ambulance.
I looked up and I could see that the maser had burned a perfect circle through the clouds. I watched it’s hard edges start to drift and soften and become chaotic cloud again.
Story of my life. I shook my head. I made my decision.
The next weather tapquest I sent out was going to read “two months of rain”.
No mercy. History be damned. This city had to be brought to heel.
