by submission | Sep 8, 2006 | Story |
Author : Dr. Alexanders
The world did not snap back into focus for Jenna, but rather came in dribbles. The first sensation to return was the feeling of the restraining harness digging into her shoulders and pins and needles running through her extremities as the hibernation state wore off. Sound came next, the gentle hum and hiss of air processors and the array of electronic equipment that had been crammed into the capsule and had probably returned to life only hours before the processes designed to bring her out of deep sleep had begun. Vision was the last to return, the muscles controlling her eyelids would not work at first and several hours must have been spent completely conscious but unable to see or move.
During those hours, fear, excitement, and anxiety battled for dominance. Jenna was a part of a colonization mission; one of ten million colonists tightly packed into a dozen long range barges. They had been placed into hibernation as the trip had been scheduled to take more than 2,000 years traveling across the galaxy at a quarter of the speed of light. A small crew would have been awoken once they arrived at their new home. This crew would have confirmed the suitability of the planet’s chemistry and then sterilized the surface from orbit of any microbes that might have developed.
Once the planet was properly prepped, hundreds of thousands of seed capsules would have been crashed into the planet’s surface containing raw organic material, genetically engineered and programmed to evolve rapidly so that after a few thousand years the surface would be covered in a wide variety of native plants and desired animal species from Jenna’s home world. The evolutionary process would cause some slight differences, but it would also allow the species to modify themselves to be able to cope with the slight chemical differences of the planet. During this process the crew would have returned to hibernation. A handful of scientists would be awoken every hundred years or so to check on the evolutionary process. When the desired state had been reached a series of retroviruses would be introduced in order to slow the evolutionary pace to its normal rate and then the homestead pods containing the hibernating colonists would be launched and guided down to their landing sites.
When Jenna finally opened her eyes, she completed the last step of the initial colonization: the introduction of human life to this new planet. She could see that something was terribly wrong. A haze of old smoke drifted through the capsule, kept from her by the apparently still functioning filter on her hibernation capsule. Only the emergency lighting, which emitted a dim red glow, and occasional sparks from the console on the other side of the room enabled her to see that most of the other twenty hibernation capsules had been cracked open and now contained desiccated corpses.
Not everyone else was dead though. She could see into the capsule next to hers where Kieran was struggling with weakened muscles to operate the emergency release on his capsule, and tears were streaming down his face.
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by submission | Sep 7, 2006 | Story |
Author : S. Clough
Five hundred and six degrees Kelvin is the temperature our burners need to reach. The tech boys designed them to burn at one thousand and seventy three. The operating temperature keeps going up and up: they seem to see it as a challenge. Anyway. We were heading back along the ninth princeway when it happened. The truck stopped, and swerved off the road, accelerating. Control had jacked our truck from the meat driver and some damn kid was joyriding us as fast as possible towards a presumably important assignment.
Well, the bit about the kid might be an exaggeration. But that’s what it feels like – that sort of reckless abandon you see kids play their games with. Not minding about the odd dent or the rough jump because they won’t feel it, and the damage will be gone by the next round. We buckled down and rode it out. We figured we arrived at our destination when the truck did a screeching right hand turn, nearly rolling, before pulling to a halt. We barrelled out of the back, burners readied. We had pulled up outside a pair of buildings: a farmhouse and a barn. People were streaming out of the barn, some towards us, and some away.
Liz and Patrick broke away to the right, quickly catching up with, and knocking down any of the escapees that were carrying boxes. They were the prize, not the people. They let the rest of them run away. The few who had approached us were obviously belligerent in their attitudes. Most were waving cudgels, although one or two had illegal firearms in their hands. Acts of aggression against Civil Protection troops is treason anyways, so we got rid of them all. Frank’s right burner misfired, though, so he ended up just punching one of them until he stopped trying to attack. Poor sod will probably have to repair it out of his own paycheck.
We collected all the contraband around the houses. Lee knocked one of the walls of the farmhouse in, just for good measure. He said he thought that there might be a secret compartment, although I reckon that was just for the benefit of the tape. That boy likes destruction a little too much. But he is in the right line of work to get plenty of it.
We had collected all the cases in the centre of the barn, and since I was Duty, I was about to put fire to them.
This was Lee’s first real hit. And in a flagrant breach of all our protocol, he stepped in front of me, and opened one of the cases. He picked up one of the objects from inside, tore off the opaque plastic which covered it, and stared. He tried to open the book with his heavily gloved hands, but just managed to tear the cover and the first few pages off.
“Wha…?” he mouthed.
Frank heaved him out of the way, and I put fire to the pile.
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by Stephen R. Smith | Sep 6, 2006 | Story
Author : Steve Smith, Staff Writer
He drifted his coupe into the corner from the feeder street onto Avenue E at an easy pace, climbing from the lower flats in a series of calculated upturns before slipping into the relative obscurity of the middle tiers.
Commuters and couriers flitted about below, dodging in and out of traffic to make deliveries or dropping into the parking slips below the pedestrian levels.  Above were the lumbering giants, observing the altitude restrictions that kept the transports from entering the city streets as they hauled cargo between the industrial zones.  There was no traffic in the middle flats, and the slick little sportster begged to be let out to run. Always ready to oblige the adrenaline pull, Max pushed the throttle up, feeling his seat stiffen behind his back as the little craft flung itself uptown.
Two more lane changes towards the clouds put him in the upper levels of the Atriums at Avenue E and 133rd Street. Six levels of open space and greenery  occupied both corner buildings, with the upper two levels offering a clear view of 133rd in both directions.  Easing the throttle back only slightly, Max scanned up and down the street before rolling into a sharp left bank and powering through the corner, rising up a flat in the process.  Heart racing he pushed the throttle again, picking up speed as 133rd Street slipped by like liquid beneath his seat.
A sudden flashing of blue and red light filled the interior, erasing the thrill of the moment and replacing it instead with sudden and intense anxiety.  He hadn’t seen the cruiser, it must have been higher up, but there was no doubt that it had seen him.  Following the expected protocol, Max pulled up to a stationary platform at the side of an office tower, and watched as the uniformed figure climbed out of the cruiser behind him and approached.  He lowered his window, hanging one arm down the door while resting the other over the steering column.  A helmeted face appeared before him, a uniformed body reflected in the surface of the featureless office tower behind her.  Max listened to the voice from the helmet, but couldn’t help watching the reflection of her uniform pants in the mirrored window.
‘Do you know why I pulled you over today Mr. Sidenham?’
Max wasn’t used to strangers calling him by name, but he knew she’d had every trivial detail about him at her fingertips the moment she’d tagged him with the violation.
‘Lonely?’ he smiled up at her charmingly, but quickly followed with ‘No, I’m sure I’ve got no idea why you’d want to stop me, officer’ It was clear she wasn’t amused.
‘You failed to stop your vehicle before turning from the Avenue onto 133rd.  That’s a violation of your transit agreement.’
‘I’m sure you’re mistaken, I’m positive I stopped there…’ again the smile, maybe he couldn’t joke with her, but he could sure as hell charm her, chicks dug him, he could tell.
‘I think you’ll find if we subpoena your nav, you did not stop at that intersection Mr. Sidenham.  Are you going to argue with me?’  The tone of her voice should have warned him to stop there, but Max wasn’t one to listen to how a woman talked to him.
‘Oh, come on now, I’m sure I slowed down at least, there was no one else for 10 flats up or down.  I’m a busy guy, what do you say we just let me off with a warning.’ His white teeth shone from ear to ear. ‘Can’t we just forget about this sweetheart?’
‘You may have slowed down, but you didn’t stop.  You are required to stop at all intersections, that’s in your transit agreement.’  Her tone was icy, she wasn’t anyone’s ‘sweetheart’, least of all this disrespectful little shit.
‘Stop, slow down, what’s the difference?’ Max continued to smile what he was sure was his most disarming smile.  He was still smiling that smile, at least for a moment, when she pinned his forearm against the door of his coupe with her shock baton.  He only had a moment to see her thumb the trigger before his arm exploded in a white hot jolt of pain, his fist clenching without conscious input, then slowly opening as the energy left his arm.
‘What the hell was…ugh…’.  Again she thumbed the trigger, and again he writhed in agony, his arm pinned firmly as the rest of him twitched in his seat.
‘You can’t fu…aargg…’. Another blast of pain cut him off in mid sentence, and he was only momentarily aware of spit dripping from his open mouth before he was blinded by another white hot blast.
He slumped in his seat, hearing her words drift in through the post-electric haze.
‘Now, sweetheart, would you like me to stop, or slow down?’
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by J.R. Blackwell | Sep 5, 2006 | Story |
Author : J.R. Blackwell, Staff Writer
Minister Christof glowed with pure thoughts. His halo seemed even brighter inside the restaurant than out in the noon sun. The more Godly the thought, the brighter the flame burned. Levi admired his father’s ability to keep his thoughts pure, he was glad there was no halo around his head.
The waitress tugged down on her skirt as she led them to a booth by large bay windows. Levi picked up a menu, already looking forward to his usual birthday treat. Christof plucked the menu out of Levi’s hands and put it aside.
“Son, before we order, I’d like to talk to you. You’re sixteen today, and I think you’re ready to have this conversation with me. Recently I’ve noticed that you have been paying a lot of attention to the networks.â€
“Sorry Dad.†Levi clasped his hands together in front of him, twisting his fingers.
“Don’t hang your head like that. There is no reason to be ashamed. Young people are naturally attracted to shared experience. It’s perfectly normal for you to be interested in how other people think and feel.â€
“It’s okay?†Levi looked up at his father. Even without the neural-implant-halo lighting his head, Minister Christof would be a striking figure. The black minister’s shirt and crisp white collar did nothing to conceal his former-linebacker physique.
Christof’s halo glowed with yellow flame. “I want you to feel comfortable talking to me about your thoughts on the network and memory sharing. It’s important that you can tell me what your peers are doing and what you are doing yourself.â€
“I guess I have been thinking about it. Other people at school are exchanging memories, mostly of concerts and stuff.†Levi shrugged and looked out the window at the lake. Geese were setting onto the placid water. Levi wondered how many of them were real and how many were robots. “Sometimes I think it doesn’t seem that bad to share.â€
“You’re right son, it doesn’t seem bad at first but it becomes bad very quickly. It’s a slippery slope from sharing a concert to sharing a spiritual experience with God. When you share your memory, you are sharing your emotional reaction, your body, your soul. It’s an intimate experience. What you remember is God’s plan for you, what happens to you is for you alone, and later, for a life-mate.â€
“Did you ever share with other people, I mean, other than mom?â€
“When I was young, I shared a lot and tampered with my own memories.†A red crackle pulsed around his halo, chased by a white flame. “I even ditched the memory of my first relationship. Now I regret doing that because when I was born again and reloaded from save I found that I repeated a lot of mistakes I made in that first relationship. I could have avoided those mistakes if I had my memories to warn me and keep me safe.†Minister Christof leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “God gives us experiences that become part of our soul. When we share memories with other people, we are sharing our soul with them. I share with your mother, but I waited until we were married. We were tempted to share when we were dating, but we knew it was wrong. Now, I’m glad we waited.â€
“I haven’t ever shared with anyone dad. I promise.â€
“I know you haven’t son, and I think that takes a lot of restraint and courage. I know that your peers must be sharing memories though public ports or even through ports their parents have given them.â€
Levi blushed. “Don’t worry Dad; I always stay away from the public ports.â€
Minster Christof leaned back in his seat, crossing him arms. “I bet a lot of kids have their own ports, don’t they.â€
“Most of the kids at school have their own ports.â€
“I realize you may feel jealous that they get to store and retrieve memory whenever they want, but your mother and I felt that giving you a port would be too much of a temptation at an early age, do you understand?â€
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just that it would be nice to review a lecture or a concert or something.â€
“You must trust that your mother and I are trying to follow God’s will for you.â€
“I know.â€
“And that’s why we’ve both decided to give you a port of your own.â€
Levi’s eyes widened. “Really?â€
Minister Christof pulled his briefcase onto the table and opened it, pulling out a small velvet box. “You are sixteen years old today and I trust you to make the right choices. This is a time when we are making a commitment to your future family, to only share with them and to keep your memory pure.†Inside the box was a sliver ring, glittering with impatient nano connections. “This is your memory ring. As soon as you put it on it will record all of your memories. When you get married, you can give it to your life mate and it will share your memories from this moment onward. Go ahead, put it on.â€
Levi took the box his hand’s shaking. He took out the ring, hoping he wouldn’t drop it and slid it on his finger. He felt a tingle in his spine. “Wow.â€
“Take my hands, lets have the first memory your life mate has for you as a prayer.†Levi obediently took his fathers hands and closed his eyes, following to his father’s low voice. “As you wear this ring, please remember what God intends for the experiences he blesses you with, and to give you the courage and restraint to keep these memories sacred, and to only share them with your future life mate.â€
“Amen.â€
Levi opened his eyes. “Amen.â€
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by submission | Sep 4, 2006 | Story
Author : Michelle Pitman
Candice didn’t quite know where to put the thing in her hand.
It was small and light, delicate beyond belief and it sat in her hand quietly still and inscrutable. She didn’t really want to put it down because it was so cute and pretty.
After some deliberation, she decided that it was probably best to put it on the mantel over the firescreen in the corner. From there she would be able to see it from nearly every angle in the room, watch it and amuse her self in the watching it.
It didn’t have a name…yet. It was still in beta testing. She was on the TechWatch Committee listings for these sorts of things anyway so she often had new things come to her out of the blue. This thing had arrived quite unexpectedly in her mail box that morning –zapped into her mail console just like that – whilst she had been concentrating on synthesising some pure Papuan New Guinean coffee beans. It had given her quite a start.
She had known for sometime that this thing was in development but hadn’t expected that she would be privileged enough to actually own one for a month or two during the beta testing period.
She eyed the tiny contraption on the mantel curiously. As she stared, she breathed lightly onto the object and imagined a scene in her mind from her past. The accompanying notes had explained that this was important. Nothing happened for a moment and she was almost disappointed when all of a sudden she felt shivering waves of memory sweep over her.
The smell! Was it the sweet smell of coffee perhaps? No – that was the beans in her kitchen!
A rush of emotion zapped through her. She remembered sitting on the lawn, as a young woman; sitting back and breathing in the heady cologne of him beside her. She had loved him so much, but he was distant, rational and ever so un-romantic. But, she had loved him all the same.
It was his cologne! She could smell it as clearly as on that day! But there was more! She could smell the background scents of new mown grass, of sweaty teenagers playing ball on the holo-court near where they sat. She could smell the subtle distant synth-blended perfumes of other girls who sat in small cliques around them. And him! She could smell him. The memories and emotions ripped through her like lightening rods. She had virtually forgotten this scene from her past until now. The shock of it made her gasp out aloud.
“Holy Shit!” she whispered. “It works!”
She quickly went to the low table in front of the fire-screen and grabbed a tap-pad, itching to make some notes before the moment passed.
‘First test for object number ZXY-4653: Made an eye-level trigger stare on object for approx. 30 seconds. Subject breathed over object as explained in user notes. Experienced strong olfactory sensation and subsequent emotional memory recall. Subject is astonished at clarity of recall due to very accurate scent reconstruction.’
She smiled. This was going to be a whole lot of fun. The little pretty object just sat inscrutably on her mantel oblivious to its potential
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by submission | Sep 3, 2006 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart
The annoying throb of the proximity klaxon woke the two security guards (aka, Comet Cowboys) from their mid day rest period. They drifted into the control room and floated above the sensor-generated hologram of the “herd.†The “herd†consisted of approximately 3,000 mountain-sized blocks of ice that once were comet 2P/Encke. In the early twenty third century, The Mars Water and Mineral (MWM) Company bought the rights to the comet and spent years breaking it up into manageable fragments. Then, every 3.3 years (when its orbit brought it nearer to Mars) they would “corral†a few blocks and sell the water to the farming conglomerates on Mars, at a substantial profit of course. However, the conglomerates considered the markup so unreasonable that they revolted. They hired ice rustlers to raid the herd and steal large fragments of the comet; thus starting the Great Ice War of 2279. Eventually, the United Worlds stepped in and negotiated a peace, but there were still some bands of freelance rustlers who would occasionally try to steal a block or two to sell on the black market.
Roy Cody surveyed the hologram and spotted the intruder. “Just one ship,†he said pointing the sole flashing red light amongst the 3,000+ drifting white dots. “They must really be stupid to think they could slip under our sensor grid. I’ll handle this one myself.â€
“Fine,†said his partner. “But remember the treaty. You can’t blow them up unless they fire first. But feel free to disable their engines, or cut their grapple line.â€
When Cody arrived at the designated location, he discovered a dilapidated one person skiff, which was at least 100 years old, and it was struggling to flee the herd with a comet fragment the size of a small house. Roger pressed the ship-to-ship communications button. “This is security. Unknown ship, please identify yourself.â€
“Cody, is that you? It’s Buck, Buck Cassidy. How did you know I was out here?â€
Buck was one of the original “cowboys.†He had worked the herd during the war, and had trained Roy when he became a guard in ‘98. Buck had retired a decade ago, and didn’t know about the security upgrades.â€
“Yeah, Buck, it’s me. Where you goin’ with the cube old friend?â€
“I’m desperate, son,†he replied. “They stopped delivering water to Demos. They’re trying to drive me planetside. I’ve lived on Demos all my life. I’ll never survive Mars’ gravity. Look, Roy, this block won’t survive perihelion anyway, and it will last me the rest of my life. Can’t you cut me a break?â€
Cody knew Buck was right; they don’t shield these little chunks. It would probably evaporate next time it passes the sun. What the hell. “All right, Buck, get moving. And, listen, don’t shoot back.†As Buck continued to limp away, Roger fired two shots across his bow. “Base, this is Ranger One. It was just some teenagers on a joy ride. I ran them off. I’m heading back to the barn.â€
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