by submission | Mar 15, 2007 | Story
Author : TJMoore
Simon checked his course and speed against his charts. He was still only marginally ahead of the others but he hoped to be well ahead at the far buoy. He checked his lines and glanced at his sail which was full and tight. He relaxed and went below to fix some chow.
Ten hours later Simon rechecked his position and that of the other yachts in the race. Something was wrong. His size to mass ratio should have given him the edge on the first leg, yet the others were catching up. He checked his tension again and confirmed his sail angle. Everything was perfect yet they continued to advance on his lead.
Another ten hours later and he was again pulling away but as soon as he got any distance on the rest of the ships he started to slow down. Curiouser and curiouser said Alice. For giggles he took an average Lumen Per Square Meter reading. It was gradually declining. Simon scratched his head and thought. He took another reading and saw it was lower than before. That was insane. The LPSM didn’t fall off that quickly at this rate of acceleration.
Suddenly he had an idea. He opened the meteoroid shield and actually looked back at the other ships and immediately understood the problem. The combined total of all the solar sails was blotting out the sun. As he pulled further away, more shadows fell on his own sail and reduced his thrust. Simon hauled in the starboard lines causing the hundred and fifth square kilometers of mylar sail to change its angle to the sun to about thirty degrees. His acceleration dropped even lower but he gradually started to slide off to the side of the pack. As soon as he was clear of the shadows of the other racers he let out his lines. His radar confirmed that he was now constantly increasing his lead.
Simon smiled and went down to catch some sleep. In another week he’s have to perform the tricky maneuver that would slingshot him around Mars, the first buoy, and begin the second leg of the race.
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by submission | Mar 14, 2007 | Story
Author : Rusty
People of the earth, I am sorry.
Mostly, I am sorry for the weapon pointed at me head, which you cannot see on your screen. But I think I am not as sorry as the person holding that weapon, who is hopefully debating wildly whether or not he should shoot me as his superiors are no doubt screaming at him to.
I’m also sorry that you don’t understand what I’ve done. I expected it, but it still saddens me a little. I suppose I never really gave up hope that you would call me a hero. That said, I am a realistic man, heh, and I am not surprised that I was imprisoned and forced to issue an official apology. Not that it will do any good.
Now that I’ve finished apologizing, let me tell you what I am not sorry for. I am not sorry that, in less than four years time, this planet will be a barren and lifeless husk, littered with the bodies of those who were not strong enough. I am not sorry for the untold billions who will die. I am not sorry for the coming terror, panic, and death that will ensue. In short, I am not sorry that I have set into motion the extermination of all life on Earth and the destruction of this planet.
The Von Neumann fleet that I built on Ganymede cannot be stopped. It will complete constructing itself in three years, and then launch itself towards this planet with the intent of wiping out every human life in the galaxy. You can flee, and it will hunt you. You can hide, but it will find you. From now on, the life of every human will be a constant, terrifying struggle to escape the monster that I have built and unleashed. Because of this, the evolutionary process will continue; the human race will ascend from the pit of apathy and greed and overpopulation and disease, and become strong again. Those who survive will be forged in the volcanic heat of conflict, reared and made great by constant strife. In a thousand generations, perhaps, the ancestors of those few who make it will look back, and thank me.
For this, I am not sorry.
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by submission | Mar 13, 2007 | Story
Author : Duncan Shields
It’s Sao Paolo all over again. I’ve got three bullets left in the low-tech and half a charge left in the high. I have six pencil holes straight through me that are cauterized from the setting on the sniper’s gun. They want this to be extreme cat and mouse. They want to me to suffer and experience fear.
So far they’re doing a great job.
The thing about being shot with a plaser? You don’t feel a thing. You’ll be brushing your teeth that night and notice in the mirror that there’s light shining through a collection of holes that have turned your kidney area into a sponge.
Of course that doesn’t work if they hit your heart or head or anything vital like that. They have to aim carefully. Perhaps sever a tendon. Freak out the pancreas a little by punching a hole through it.
My left arm is useless and my suit is a ragged mess of torn tuxedo and smeared mud. I’m missing a shoe. I look like a time traveler in this poverty stricken suburb.
I was kidnapped from the party and set loose here. It’s been non-stop fun ever since they kicked me out of the van fifteen minutes ago.
I’ve had my cover blown before but this is the first time I’ve thought that I might not make it.
If I can get to a public webstation, I can alert my handlers and glaze the area, maybe get airlifted or even downloaded. In the parts of town with money, webstations are as common as McStarKings. Here’s they’re as rare as clock radios.
I prime myself for the dash across the alley necessary to put me into the flood of foot traffic on the main ramblas I can see through the crack in the buildings. I have no concern about body counts anymore. You can smooth out ruffled feathers if the collateral damage is poor.
I hold my breath and push forward like a frog across the orange dust of the alley.
I hate Mars.
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by submission | Mar 12, 2007 | Story
Author : Joshua Reynolds
“I’m glad you’re here.” Tom looked up at her, a smile on his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. Jane sat heavily, her belly swollen, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she returned his smile with one of her own. It was weak though. Six months pregnant took a lot out of a girl.
“Well I couldn’t really say no now could I?”
“You could. I’m glad you didn’t.” Tom looked up at the multi-hued windows of the church they sat in. “What do you think?” He gestured, one hand patting the back of the pew they were sitting on. “Nice hunh?”
“If you like churches then yes, I’d guess this is a nice place.” Jane looked around, frowning. “You know I’m not much for churches.”
“I know, but I figured it was appropriate.”
“Really.” It wasn’t a question. Jane was more an answer kind of girl. “You figured.”
“Yep. The first time we met it was here, right here in this pew.”
“I remember.”
“Hoped you would.” Tom grinned and reached out, pushing that same stray strand of hair back up out of her face. The smile slipped from his face after he saw her expression. “It wasn’t all bad.”
“Speak for yourself.” Jane gently but firmly pushed his hand away from her face. “What do you want Tom?”
“Just to see you. Both of you.” His fingers tapped her belly. “To see you one last time.”
“I wondered how long it would take you to leave town.” She batted his hand away. Harder this time. “Scared of your fatherly responsibilities? Don’t worry, I don’t want anything from you.”
“What you want doesn’t honestly matter Jane. Not at this point.” He looked at his watch. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what? Getting me pregnant? Or abandoning me?”
“Either. Both. And for what comes next. We have to go home. I’m sor-rr-orry-” His voice rose to a squeal, piercing the stillness of the church. It wasn’t a human sound. It was an electronic noise that caused the stained-glass windows to rattle in their frames and her teeth to vibrate in her gums. Jane clutched her ears, trying to block out the noise. She could taste blood in her mouth where she’d bit her tongue. Tom’s body wavered in the sunlight streaming through the windows. It expanded and contracted, growing fainter and fuzzier as if Tom was a television set on the fritz. Jane watched as he reached towards her, his face sad. Why was he sad? What was going on?
Her stomach twisted and she couldn’t hold back a scream. Pain rippled outward from her womb, crawling up her spine and down her legs. Blood dripped from between her legs to plop onto the floor of the church.
We have to go home.
He hadn’t meant her. But then, he’d rarely thought about her at all.
Tom faded to static and Jane fell to her knees, weeping.
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by submission | Mar 11, 2007 | Story
Author : J. S. Kachelries
Peter Drommel’s plan was flawless. He needed to kill Sebastian Keer, and make it look like suicide. And today would be the day. They were both presenting papers at The Fifth Annual Conference of Temporal Physics. Keer was presenting at 1:00. Drommel’s paper was at 4:00. If everything went according to plan, Keer would die at 4:20, while Drommel stood in front of 300 scientists presenting his paper on The Consequences of Hinesburg’s Uncertainty Principle Relative to Time-Mass Transportation; a perfect alibi. At the precise moment Drommel was predicting successful time travel in only six months, he would also be tossing an unconscious Keer off his 17th floor balcony. Actually, the “Drommel†from the primary timeline would be at the podium, and the “Drommel†from earlier in the day would be committing the murder.
The untold truth was that Drommel had already successfully traveled three hours into the future several times while testing the viability of his plan. Another untold truth was that the only reason his time machine worked was because he had stolen key components from Keer’s machine, and replaced them with defective parts. Consequently, he needed to kill Keer before his espionage was detected.
As Drommel adjusted the controls of his temporal transporter he glanced at the clock. It read 1:15 PM. Sebastian Keer would be fifteen minutes into his presentation on The Use of Singularities to Create Temporal Displacements in an Effort to Establish a Causality Loop. Peter had been on the peer team reviewing Keer’s paper, so he knew the content. It identified serous obstacles concerning the possibility of nature permitting an uncaused result. Drommel could see that until Keer realized there was an imaginary solution to his displacement equation, he would be years away from successful time travel. But, as long as he could expose Drommel as a thief, he was a threat that could not be tolerated.
The first part of Drommel’s plan went smoothly. He had gotten into Keer’s room undetected. He knew Keer’s routine. He took a nap at 4:00 every afternoon. Therefore, all Drommel needed to do was jump ahead to 4:20, crush Keer’s skull while he slept, toss him off the balcony, lock the deadbolt from the inside, return to the past, and make sure he has lots of eye witnessed at 4:20. The police will have to conclude Keer committed suicide.
“Hello, Peter. What are you up to?†Drommel spun around to see Sebastian Keer leveling a handgun at him.
“What the…Where did you come from? I thought you were presenting your paper.â€
“I am. After all, I need alibi witnesses too, in case the police have doubts that you jumped off my balcony of your own volition.â€
“I’m not jumping anywhere, and you can’t risk shooting me. Nobody shoots themselves, then jumps off a balcony. Don’t be a fool, Sebastian.â€
“Oh, we won’t need to shoot you Peter.â€
“We?†Drommel turned around in time to see a second Sebastian Keer materialize. This one was swinging an aluminum baseball bat. It was the last thing Drommel ever saw. The two Keers hoisted Drommel over the railing and spread their research notes across the bed, then locked the deadbolt. “Poor devil. He read my notes and found out I was four months ahead of him. I guess he couldn’t handle it, and jumped to his death rather than face the humiliation. Oh well. It’s time to return. Don’t forget your baseball bat, Mr. Keer.â€
“No worries, Mr. Keer. After all, it was my plan.â€
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by submission | Mar 10, 2007 | Story
Author : TJMoore
It was a Thursday. I’d just finished a little job for the landlord and I was looking through my latest copy of Dames when the bell rang. I looked at the monitor and saw a sultry blonde dish in a fancy red dress waiting at my door. Not being one to pass up a chance to get slapped I buzzed her in.
She had a nice set of gams and a tight pair of bullets. I put the magazine in a drawer and took a pull on my cigar. She walked toward me like we were old friends and I got a little apprehensive. If I forgot this doll I must be getting Alzheimer’s.
She stopped in front of my desk and pulled a lipstick out of her bag. I waited for her to finish her cupid’s bow and raised my eyebrows.
“What can I do for you babe?†I asked in what I hoped was an uninterested tone.
She smiled her ruby reds and asked “Do you like to dance?â€
I immediately became suspicious but decided to play along.
“As much as the next Joe with two left feet†I replied and blew a chain of smoke rings into the air.
“Maggie’s having a special†she grinned; “First lesson’s free if you sign up for five moreâ€
I sighed and reached for my pea shooter in my top drawer. I knew it was too good to be true.
“How’d you get my address?†I asked in an accusatory tone. “I’m unlisted you know.â€
“Maggie subscribed to a bulletin board database and you were on it†she replied with a little pout.
I plugged her right between her 38s and she popped like a balloon.
Damn I hated spam. Now I’d have to change my address again or buy an expensive filter. I put the BB gun back in my drawer, retrieved my magazine and propped my feet up on the desk. I’ll have to get the name of that advertising agency I thought to myself.
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