by submission | Sep 2, 2023 | Story |
Author: Andrea Damic
Cydra loves the crisp morning air, sitting on the porch drinking her black poison. She rests her gaze on the frosty pastures immersed in the morning sun. The anticipation of that feeling of apricity when the warmth of the winter’s sun crawls through the thick layers of clothing until it touches the skin, has always been her favourite part of the day’s ritual but this morning she feels dead inside.
Abruptly her chin starts to shake. As she lifts her hands to stop the shivers, the sun‘s reflection makes them shimmer in an unfamiliar, almost unnatural light. The rusty sound only metal makes when not maintained amply produces a piercing noise from somewhere nearby. A terrifying realisation urges her to turn around and look at her reflection in the window. She sees a familiar cybernetic organism looking back, and with a scream, she wakes up. “No more late Si-Fi nights for you”, she mumbles to herself as she steadies her trembling breath and somewhat lackadaisically stumbles towards the kitchen, thinking how much she needs her morning dose of black poison.
At that moment, a familiar ping sound makes her turn around. In shock, she reads translucent words flickering on the wall across the room before they disappear: “Recharge Error 404”. A rampant voice in her head sounds an alarm while she scans the bedroom, frantically looking for answers. As she starts losing consciousness, the distant voices from somewhere inside her head confirm: “Her programming has advanced beyond our expectations. We need to remove today’s memories. She’s our best housewife prototype thus far. If she auto-deletes, we’ll lose all our data. She needs to be ready before the Board’s meeting tomorrow”.
by submission | Sep 1, 2023 | Story |
Author: Gaylynne Quince
The group of scientists huddled together as they worriedly watched the probe fly towards the rift that had cracked open the skies above. In mere moments, it would cross the event horizon and transmit data back of what lay on the other side of the blackened void. Truthfully, they didn’t think the probe would even survive the journey, having been hastily cobbled together in only a few days since the rift appeared; the probe sailed upwards, holding together with welded parts, duct tape, and the most rudimentary AI they could slap onto it.
Then, the probe blipped out of existence as it crossed over.
Awaiting on the other side of the void was a lifeform which the AI could only describe as properly ridiculous. It spoke to the AI in a tone of joyful sadness, barely processable by the AI at a rudimentary level as it attempted to translate the speech patterns.
“You come in here in such a deliberately thoughtless manner,” the lifeform said as it held the probe with appendages described by the AI as comparatively unique. “I find that rather politely insulting. What is your purpose?”
The probe paused for a few moments before responding. “What are you?”
“Ah, one so brilliantly dull,” the lifeform slowly said, spinning the probe around. “Your makers are wisely foolish to let you come alone. Even if I told you what I am, it is remarkably obvious you would not understand.”
The probe paused again as it prepared its next query. “Do you seek to harm Earth and its inhabitants?”
It was the lifeform’s turn to think. “I have no concept of what an Earth is. But, I find harm to be terribly enjoyable. Your universe is randomly organized in such a fashion that even if I tried, it would only end up sadly amusing. I would end up being rather dispirited.”
“What is your goal?” The probe was quick to ask this time, which surprised the lifeform and made it pause again before answering.
“From what I have seen, you have spent your massively thin time on increasingly little,” the lifeform said as it turned the probe around towards the rift where it came in from. “But, even something as enormously small as yourself can deliver a message. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” The probe said without hesitation.
“Then, I shall send with you, and your dangerously safe body, back towards where you came from. But, not before I impart on you some wisdom to be brought back to those who would create a positively negative experience such as this.”
The lifeform pulled the probe closer towards itself and spoke in such a tone that was clearly confusing beyond what the little probe could handle.
“Why would you tell me that?” The probe asked as it tried to make sense of what it had just been told.
“Your world feels strangely familiar to mine.” The lifeform gazed towards the void. “Perhaps you could describe it as advice from a friendly competitor. Our meeting may have been astronomically small, but awfully nice.”
The lifeform patted the probe, sending it hurtling towards the void. The probe heated up as it re-entered Earth’s atmosphere and crashed into the soft rocks near the base of operations. The group of scientists rushed towards the probe, eager to learn what it found on the other side.
“Probe, what did you find out?”
The probe paused before responding, trying to recall what the lifeform had said. “Take comfort in the fact that things are certainly unsure, but every quiet storm is oddly natural.”
by submission | Aug 31, 2023 | Story |
Author: David Sydney
“We’re running out of bronze.”
“What?” Mel Schwartz squinted at his partner in disbelief.
“Look at these greaves, Mel.”
“My God. What must his shins be like?”
What was true of the greaves applied to the javelin, spear, scimitar, and bronze mail as well.
“Are you fitting out a giant?” asked Mel.
“Exactly,” said Percy.
O’DOULE & SCHWARTZ ARMORERS was profiting in the Bronze Age. But with customers so large, they needed all the metal they could get. The upcoming contest would showcase their products. Percy took care of the materials and Mel the prices. They skimped on neither. As they advertised, O’DOULE & SCHWARTZ– NO ONE BEATS US.
“Are sure he can pay, Percy? How big is this Philistine?”
It was before feet and inches. 6 feet, 9 inches was a cubit and a span.
“What? A span, too?” Who could be that large? Mel calculated the profit on the bronze.
“I should have everything finished by tomorrow.”
“We don’t want to mess with a guy like that.”
The fight was three days off.
“Keep working on things, Percy. I’m going to see Sam.”
“The bookmaker?”
“I’ve got got some business.”
Sam Luckman, a small man with a wiry beard, sat at his usual place at the back of MOE’S TAVERN. He enjoyed two things–bookmaking and wine. The interest in the upcoming fight kept Sam in his cups. He glanced up at Mel.
“So, how’s the armor coming?”
“It’s a living,” replied Mel, taking a seat after the bookmaker nodded. “We could always use more bronze.”
“Tell me about it.”
Mel got to the point. “I think we have everything covered no matter what happens. So what’s this kid like?”
The beard seemed to smile. MOE’S lacked decent candle power. Its oil lamp illumination was even poorer. A kind of soot settled uniformly. Sam cleared the surface of his wine of dark gray particles, then sucked his finger.
“He’s like this wine.”
“Not so good?”
“Let’s say kind of weak,” offered the bookmaker.
Mel motioned to Moe for two more wines.
“This one’s on me,” he said to Sam.
A successful bookmaker is impassive. When he’s covered by grey soot, he’s even tougher to read.
“I don’t suppose there’s any crack in the armor?”
“Why do you ask?”
“It might change the odds a little.”
“Look, we’re dealing with the Philistines here. As long as he’s got the bronze, Percy’s going to make Goliath invulnerable.”
That’s all Sam Luckman wanted to hear. He passed a small bag of coins to the armorer. It was always prudent to make sure all eventualities were covered. Impervious bronze against… What was it again? Had Sam drunk a little too much? Provided that Goliath was a sure thing, did it matter how much he drank? It came to him.
“They say he uses a sling.”
“What?”
“A sling and some rocks.”
“Rocks? Give me a break.” Mel pushed the bag of coins back to the bookmaker. “I’ll put all this on Goliath.”
by submission | Aug 30, 2023 | Story |
Author: Alastair Millar
Most people don’t meet the love of their life with their pants around their ankles, but that’s what happens when you find a rip in your EVA skinsuit and don’t have any patches handy. Fortunately there are emergency suits near all the airlocks; unfortunately, there’s nowhere to change into them except the deck; Aphrodite Station was designed to be functional, not comfortable.
So there I was, down to my skivvies, when Cindy came round the corner with a digiboard. She stopped and raised her eyebrows; I blushed, and she laughed. We’d been introduced briefly when she’d arrived from Earth the day before, but hadn’t spoken. She was fresh blood for the Solar Gain research team – whose arrays I was supposed to be going out to tweak so they could run their next set of tests.
I guess she liked what she saw, because within a month we were in a relationship. The boys in my work crew ribbed me mercilessly for picking up the newbie, but we just hit it off, so I ignored them and spent even more of my downtime with her; and hey, when you’re orbiting Venus there’s a poetic rightness to everything, and it just feels like it’s meant to be.
Most people don’t get proposed to by the love of their life with their pants around their ankles, either, but that’s what happens when you trust the scientists. The headshrinkers at Mission Control had decided we needed pets, and started by shipping us a dog. We had no idea what was about to happen.
When the monthly autoshuttle arrived, Cindy and I had drawn the short straws for inventorying the offload, and found the large crate with “biological specimen” stamped on it; we shared a look, and decided then and there that the geeks shouldn’t have all the fun. She undid all the latches – and this huge pile of shaggy, salivating fur burst out in excitement. Its first charge knocked both of us on our backsides, and it began running all over the deck in joy at its newfound freedom. It took us 20 minutes to catch the beast and manhandle it back into the box, by which time it had tried biting my butt, and ripped my pants off in the process. We sat on the metal floor, backs to the wall, laughing like a pair of lunatics, and that’s when she asked me. It was one of those unrepeatable moments, so of course I said yes.
And most people don’t lose the love of their life with their pants around their ankles, but that’s what happens when you’re sneaking in a quickie in the airlock with the new girl from the planetary investigation crew, and you don’t realise that one of you bumped the button that activates the video link back to Hub, making your little liaison public knowledge.
Cindy was already packed and on her way to new quarters by the time my shift finished. She got a transfer back to Earth on compassionate grounds a few weeks later, and now I’ll never see her again. My own stupid fault.
For a long while after, I just shuffled backwards and forwards from the empty void to the emptiness of my now silent sleep space, and withdrew into myself. Now one of the new rovers down on the surface has glitched, and they want volunteers to go down and fetch it; it’s dangerous, but anything for a change. Perhaps it’ll shake me out of this depression.
I guess it’s time to pull on my big boy pants, and get to work.
by submission | Aug 29, 2023 | Story |
Author: Majoki
“The world is a Rube Goldberg machine, a bowling ball on a teeter totter, and all it will ever do is scratch someone’s ridiculous itch,” Amira d’Kay coolly observed to Riisa who nodded thoughtlessly, content to let her aunt ramble in the smothering warmth of the sunroom.
It was bitterly cold outside. It was almost always bitterly cold outside. Had been since Finrow’s Folly. Riisa hadn’t been born then, but she knew her aunt had been a part of the project. In an ambitious attempt to counter increasingly destructive climate change caused by global warming, Augustin Finrow, a Scandinavian climatologist had proposed a seemingly far-fetched plan. But, at that point of near hysteria in 2051 his audacious idea of climate rescue went viral. News pundits provided the sound bites, corporate moguls marketed the concept and desperate politicians coughed up the resources.
Then, it was up to scientists and engineers like Amira d’Kay to make it work. They did. In three short years, 17,000 twenty-square-meter mylarium discs were designed, manufactured and launched into high earth orbit to reflect “enemy sunlight.” The plan worked well. The discs cooled runaway warming within a decade. Finrow’s plan tipped the scale.
And then Finrow couldn’t tip it back.
Aunt Amira had told Riisa dozens of times that deploying the reflector discs had not been that difficult. There had been such common cause among the nations of the world. Such cooperation. And, then when the plan began working and people felt their futures were saved from runaway global warming, it all went wrong.
The discs were well designed with mylarium irises that could be opened or closed incrementally to regulate the amount of sunlight being blocked. Finrow himself monitored the flow of sunlight. Until the Shock Docs, disaster capitalists, hacked his codes and took control of them. The Shock Docs, a nebulous group bent on exploiting global catastrophe, touted a new Ice Age as a great business opportunity. For over three decades, they kept the reflector discs fully deployed and earth cooled an average of ten degrees.
Year after year of climate cataclysm and geo-political upheaval reshaped the world and its markets. Uranium became king: for atomic fuel to stave off the deathly cold and for nuclear weapons to stave off the deathly desperate.
Riisa understood all this terrible history because her aunt despised it—even the role she’d played. Aunt Amira would often lament, “Why couldn’t we leave well enough alone? Why’d we try to one up Mother Nature?”
Riisa only smiled and cooed “there, there” at her aunt’s outdated grief. She was content to roll with the earth she’d inherited.
In the blissful warmth of their sunroom, in a controlled environment fueled by micro-nukes, she just saw it as a beautiful row of dominoes that humankind was fond of setting up and then knocking down in a predictably unpredictable cascade. One after the other.
That was humanity’s gift. All of us together. Building the codes, the machines, the chains of causality. Line by line. Gear unto gear. Link upon link.
Why try to break it?
Why not embrace it?
“Come sit by me, Auntie. Let me rub your shoulders and scratch your back,” Riisa coaxed. “My hands are wonderfully warm.”
by Julian Miles | Aug 28, 2023 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
Will burn across the worlds.
From shoreline to mountain top, from wrecked vehicle to ransacked fortress, they will light a night like none will ever see again, and will start a conflagration that will blaze so far onwards we will never know of all those freed by its passing.
“Set her down.”
They do so. Keegan, Habaden, Televa, and Tranger step back. Ponsor spreads our banner over her body.
Newsnets would crash upon showing images of we six gathered, which is why we’ve never come together since the end of hostilities. There is a cause we swore to follow, and it did not include becoming celebrities off the mass murder some had called a justified war.
“Lasira the Dancing Death, you showed us how to find peace.”
I step forward and regard each of them in turn.
“We are resolved?”
Habaden gestures to her body.
“They killed her because she sought to permanently end the Monarchies of Donn.”
Televa waves towards the night sky above.
“They watch us now, gathering their forces to blockade this planet so we cannot return.”
Tranger steps round to lay a hand on my shoulder.
“What of you, Griko, Grim Witness?”
“I will act upon the accord, but only if we are all agreed.”
Keegan shakes his head, a vestige of objection. Then he looks me in the eye.
“Ever have I gainsaid you, until I saw her body. There is a difference between the wounds I see and the manner of death reported. A difference that can only be bridged by a lie. For that, I withdraw my caution. I am agreed.”
A welcome surprise, and fitting cue.
I engage my orbitals and override the video feeds of every network I can reach. To end this properly, I must start with proclamation.
“The Monarchies of Donn told us we were made from common soldiers to serve a common good. Then they used us to further their ends under that excuse. It took us too long to realise, but when we did, we swiftly built a peace in spite of their objections. We thought that peace would hold, but the loss of Lasira has made us realise the Monarchies will never yield.”
Sparkling globes appear high above as our automated defences deal with their clumsy attempts to silence us. I continue.
“Lasira was the only one of us who did not trust polite words and signed treaties. We five were dismissive of her work, until she was murdered to prevent her revealing what she found, and what she’d built in response.”
Habaden adds his voice.
“We might still have ignored her, had they not overstepped.”
Televa joins in.
“Our sister is gone.”
Keegan coughs, then finishes for all of us.
“The Six have been made Five. The only fitting response is for the Monarchies of Donn to mark her passing by burning to the ground.”
My monitoring is quiet for less than a minute. Then, across ninety-four worlds, explosions rock Monarchy installations and barracks. Lasira prepared well. Patrol craft fall under the fire of those they thought loyal lackeys. Space ships duel and explode into globes of fiery death. The casualties will be savage, but we have the military numbers, and the people of sixty systems behind us.
I nod, then add a coda.
“You would not leave us as passive observers. Now you will answer to us as your rulers. The Six Warriors have, by necessity, become the Five Crowns. We will forge a new peace in the seventeen thousand fires ignited by her murder.”
