by submission | Jul 30, 2023 | Story |
Author: J David Singer
Alex hummed as she crossed the desert. Not with any kind of tune, just a prolonged contented sigh; almost a purr. In her arms, she held a small, rectangular, steel container with ridges on two sides. These ridges, she knew from long experience, should fit into the racks of the mainframe back at Home. Alex could still sense the active electromagnetic field coming from inside the rectangle. It was faint, but it was there.
She accelerated now, skirting the ruins of some titanic structure. These behemoths were often good sources of the materials she needed to survive, but they were dangerous and foreboding.
Once, many years ago, she had entered a structure very similar to this one and had found a treasure trove of invaluable resources. There had been spools of fine wire, several intact solar panels, and two magnetically locked containers of programmable nano-machines. She could make repairs to Home, and to herself. She could set up the panels and finally get her cells up to a full charge. The feeling of that day still echoed and buzzed through her memory. The surge of elation at the discovery, followed by the horror of what happened next.
As she was hauling her goods over to the sled, she heard a sound. High-pitched and ululating. Still swathed in shadow, a construct of metal limbs and exposed wires was shambling toward her. Its chassis was about the same size as Alex herself, but it was clearly in bad shape. She could see that it was missing at least one limb, and she could hear servos whining.
Alex knew that her own form was very similar to that of the builders themselves. She had originally been intended to interact with them on a regular basis. This construct was much more utilitarian in its design and construction.
One of the sensors on its body was definitely a laser range-finder and it was attempting to gauge where, exactly, Alex was. The sleek alloy body plates of Alex’s body were capable of shedding, absorbing, or reflecting most forms of radiation she encountered. Originally intended to be an aesthetic measure, it now served to baffle her decrepit foe.
It was emitting some sort of pulse now. Trying to find what its sensors were telling it didn’t exist. Alex had changed all of her external plates to absorption. Her appearance was the equivalent of trying to look at a black hole.
Though it could not see her by way of electromagnetics or visible light, it could still hear her. Too late she recognized the pulses were compressed air and high-frequency pings. The construct had been using a sort of sonar to locate her.
Whatever happened next had happened quickly, and it had been devastating. Alex came back online after a system reboot, but she was outside the installation. Several meters from the entrance where she had parked her sled. Her internal chronometer had advanced several minutes, but she could not recall any data from the intervening span of time. The sled was gone, as were the supplies that she had gathered. The construct that had confronted her was gone as well.
That had been many years ago now, and Alex had found no answers to her questions. But she had found more questions to ask. What happened to the builders? Why had they disappeared after the Fall? She remembered the builders as kind and wise and all that was good, but she had never met one herself. How could you possess memories of someone you had never actually met?
by submission | Jul 29, 2023 | Story |
Author: Dave Ludford
He reached the brow of the steep hill just before noon with the blazing sun at its apex making him feel drowsy and slightly nauseous. He dismounted from the equus and the sure-footed but cumbersome beast grunted in relief. The sense of unease he’d felt all morning seemed to be getting stronger and it was as he looked down into the valley below that the feeling quickly turned to shock and disbelief: the city lay in ruins, the crumbling dust of its once solid walls mixing in swishing wind-whipped swirls with the sand of the vast surrounding desert. His home had been reduced to rubble; the three towers that had stood proud and mighty for eight centuries now no more than piles of sandstone bricks. Resisting the urge to vomit, he grabbed the equus’ reigns and stumbled awkwardly down the descending slope feeling partly reluctant to investigate further but with the overwhelming need to know what had happened.
He was no more than just a few feet away from the first pile of debris- he recognized part of what had once been the justice buildings- when he heard the sound of a wretched voice calling out a name in desperation, quickly followed by the sad, stooping figure of that voice’s owner.
“Saul, is that you?” he shouted.
“Jacob? Oh thank goodness you’re safe and well.”
“Saul, what has happened here? Who is responsible for this outrage?”
The old man- dressed in ragged robes and with the gaunt look of the terminally ill- replied in a voice barely audible to Jacob: “We did this, my friend. It was us.” He then sat himself down wearily on a large stone, sinking his head into his hands.
“What do you mean, it was us?” Jacob responded as he approached Saul.
Saul took a few deep breaths before looking up into Jacob’s eyes.
“Our kin. People from Earth, the old planet. A huge vessel appeared without warning two days ago and…you must have still been out hunting…in the forest…you wouldn’t have seen…”
The effort of speaking seemed to tire the old man further.
“But why? I don’t understand…we’re human, just as they are, descendants of traders and missionaries who established a colony, then a city here on this planet, centuries ago…”
“I know, I know…it seems- according to the vessel’s captain, who at least showed us the courtesy of a visit before unleashing this carnage, or testing out some new advanced weaponry, as he put it – that Earth is now largely uninhabitable due to climate degradation. The military-industrial complex needs a new home, and this is the chosen location, being of course already known to them. The ideal place, in fact. They’ll be moving in soon, en masse.”
Jacob was silent for several minutes before speaking again.
“Saul, where is everyone? Not all dead, surely?”
“Those few who survived fled to the Sitak hills. Perhaps we can survive there, perhaps not…we have no way of leaving this world, after all.”
“And your wife? Where’s Gina?”
Saul gestured expansively.
“Buried here, somewhere, beneath this wreckage. I’ve been searching for her…”
“I still can’t believe…it’s just industrial-scale murder, not progress.”
“We’re collateral damage. You’ve read the old books, Jacob. Mankind’s capacity for violence and destruction knows no bounds, especially in the pursuit of power and profit.”
“Saul, we must leave here quickly. Catch up with the others and at least try to make a go of things.”
The old man nodded his understanding, just as the skies darkened with the arrival of the first wave of vessels from the doomed old planet.
by submission | Jul 28, 2023 | Story |
Author: David C. Nutt
“Excellency, the Chair of the Preservist department is here as requested.”
“Very good, send him in.” The Chair of the The Preservist Department, formally The Office for the Preservation and Purity of Galactic Standard Language, floated in, his formal saffron and scarlet robes billowing behind him. The Galactic University High Chancellor smiled. Just the cleaning costs for those pompous threads alone would cripple a normal citizens budget anywhere in the Empire. Last terms budget cut to the Preservist Department was the first in nearly a thousand years and the delusion that it was temporary, kept the department as arrogant as ever. In fact, after a nearly 2,000 years of language hegemony, the Preservist Chair was about to have his “come to Jesus moment.” Indeed, it was a perfect metaphor. An alien catch phrase that once understood symbolized the predicament perfectly.
Before the High Chancellor could speak the Chair cut him off. “Where is my dais?” The High Chancelor nodded. The platform that by tradition elevated the Preservist department head above all other academics.
The High Chancellor managed to keep a straight face. “Ah, yes. Well, it was taking up too much floor space in my office so I had it removed.” The Preservist department head made an involuntary wince. He looked around and took a seat opposite the High Chancellor, who had not moved from behind his desk. The High Chancellor took a seat. The Preservist department head took a fan from within the folds of his robes and began fanning himself.” The High Chancellor leaned back in his chair.
“I asked you here today to clarify your position within the University. Now that conflict with the humans has been resolved, and trade has been re-established-“
The Preservist Chair beamed “Thank the 12 goddesses! Now we can bring some much needed clarity to human space. When will the Emperor restore our funds? I hope he realizes that we would need even more to establish Preservist Offices and Schools in Human space. The humans have a lot of catching up to do! They may be fine as scientists, merchants, and warriors but they can’t speak Galactic to, ah, um…”
“Save their souls?”
“Curious expression High Chancellor. Is it 3rd or 5th reign Galactic?”
“Neither. It’s a human idiom.”
“What?”
“A human saying. They are, sweeping though Galactic popular culture at an exponential rate, and now that human and Empire scientists have nearly perfected the real-time universal translator…well, human speech is becoming preferred for merchant contracts, inter species co-operative ventures and docking instructions between tower and pilots. Even our own diplomatic core has moved over to using human speech- especially when the real-time translators can’t be used for one reason or another.”
“Absurd! Preposterous! Does the Emperor know this? I must seek an audience with him immediately before the Galaxy unravels!”
The High Chancellor sighed. “Ah, yes, well the BLUF is…”
“Excuse me? BLUF?”
“Another human expression. BLUF-Bottom Line Up Front. The Emperor himself and his High Council, as part of our treaty with the humans, have dropped mandatory use of Galactic standard. Times are changing and I suggest you and your department prepare for the worst. At best you will be absorbed by the History Department, and at worst, well, totally defunded.”
The Chair of the Office for the Preservation and Purity of Galactic Standard stood up in rage. “As we say in Galactic Standard, ‘Te to bon arbodum lana hrp tor brrrrrrrt la-‘“
The High Chancellor held up his hand and cut him off. “The humans have a better way to say it: ‘Go fuck yourself.’”
by submission | Jul 27, 2023 | Story |
Author: Mina
ALENA’S ADOPTED MOTHER, CAROL:
We consider ourselves blessed with our adopted daughter. It hasn’t always been easy – we had to teach her not to stand out. It’s hard to dim your light, but she understood by the age of three that she would be taken away from us if her gifts were noticed. She did her best, but we did have to move on from time to time, to avoid unwanted attention. It’s hard to describe the joy and warmth she has brought to our lives. When my husband George’s hereditary heart defect disappeared, that was one of the times we had to move in a hurry, losing all his medical records along the way. Another time was after our Polish neighbour called Alena her “anyow”.
KRYSTYNA KASZA, A NEIGHBOUR OF THE FAMILY:
They weren’t our neighbours for long, maybe a year. It was when I got pancreatic cancer and the prognosis wasn’t good. I was sick as a dog during my third stab at chemo. Their daughter, Alena, came to see me every day. She’d hold my hand and tell me stories about the twins, Luke and Ben, and their dog, Rasputin (how he ended up being called that was the best story). Making sure they didn’t come to any harm was her most important job, she said. I remember her eyes, this almost impossibly blue colour; her smile that could have graced the statue of an angel. She must have been my good luck charm because I beat that cancer – the doctors called it a miracle.
MR ANDREWS, RETIRED TEACHER:
Alena was the best student I ever had. She should have been in a different school, a fast-track programme of some kind. Maths and science were like languages she was already fluent in. When I wanted to put her forward as genius-level, she flat out refused. She said her family came first. I gave her a lift home one day after drama club when one of the boys ran in front of us, chasing the family dog. I swerved and braked, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. She put her hand on the dashboard and I swear it’s as if the car got given a push and swerved harder and faster. We crashed into a parked car instead and, apart from a few dents to both cars, no damage was done. As she hugged her hysterical brother, I couldn’t tell you which twin it was, she put her hand on me as if she could feel my distress. I have never felt such peace before or since.
RENNET OF RUEL:
There are very few of us left; our planet of origin is long gone, and we live our whole lives on vast spaceships. We need to commingle with other species to reproduce. On Earth, we might be compared to your cuckoos: we find a safe nest for our young. I watched the girl with interest from afar, waiting for her eighteenth year so I could introduce her to her full heritage. When I finally spoke to her, I was astonished to discover that she did not yet want to leave the primitive backwater of her birth. She told me that it had become her home and her family. I told her she would outlive all those she cared for.
ALENA:
Krystyna called me her “anioł”, you know, which is “angel” in Polish. I’m far from that. But I am truly loved here and I have so much love to give back. Come back for me in a century or two – I have a lot to do here first.
by submission | Jul 26, 2023 | Story |
Author: Daniel Aceituna
The new AI phone app used the latest research in non-linear regression to predict the future. Local data combined with GPS and relevant global data was all it took to give a remarkably accurate prediction of what would happen within the next minute.
One billion downloads occurred in the first week alone. Paul couldn’t wait to try it out. He set the app to ‘Imminent Danger,’ instead of the more thrilling ‘I feel lucky today’. Then he jumped in the car to run some errands.
A few minutes later, while Paul was waiting at the light on Fifth and Main, the app gave him his first warning. He looked at his phone. It said ‘Fire truck.’ Seconds later he heard a faint siren growing in the distance. This is so cool, he thought.
On his way into the bank, he received another warning that said, ‘Possible bank robbery.’ He ran back to the car and smiled as he rushed away from the scene. He made abrupt changes to his plans three more times that day. He got a little annoyed at having to avoid getting an ice cream cone, but he reasoned that it was worth it, if it meant staying safe.
The next morning Paul was late to work when he avoided taking interstate, due to a ‘Potential pile-up’ warning. During the noon hour, he avoided leaving the office and instead ate a dry sandwich from the break room vending machine. That night he had to cancel a date. He saw his girlfriend only twice that week. Some of the reasons came from her end; she had the app also.
As more of his friends used their app, they got together less. Within a matter of weeks, Paul felt physically isolated. He panicked one morning when he was two blocks from home and realized he had forgotten his phone. He parked the car and had to find someone with the app who happened to be walking back toward his apartment.
Paul started longing for the days before the app. How did I get by back then, he thought. He started wondering if the app was really keeping him safe. What if some of the warnings were false alarms? What if all of them were? So Paul decided that he would ignore the next warning and proceed anyway.
Days later only Paul’s grandmother was brave enough to attend his funeral; she hadn’t downloaded the app.
by submission | Jul 25, 2023 | Story |
Author: Philip G Hostetler
Maggie’s been gone for a while now. But not into a black hole this time. Normally she’d discorporate into the metaphysical unknown but this time, she’s just been…
…happily traveling.
I miss her, like a solar system misses it’s rogue planetoid, flung out beyond and returning every 4,000 years as a flickering comet to be seen in the sky for one night only, like she was just taking a nostalgia tour of her long lost friends, just to wink with a genuine grin and say,
“Goodbye, catch you next time!”
I suppose time has no meaning to the genuinely inspired, I suppose pretenders can’t hold a candle to the beautifully estranged, the independent and courageous. She wasn’t always that way, she was just receptive, and I was a constant output of absurdity, like the two-slit experiment personified, perpetually in two different states, though I thought they were the same. I must’ve been so confusing.
Maggie, I won’t ask where you’ve been this time because, well, I’ve actually been busy. Busy with the inspiration that you, and so many, have left me. I’m not building anymore, I’m just happily being, creating, ruminating. I’m more of a particle than a wave these days, and the waves around me don’t much appreciate the wake I leave behind, interrupting their tides.
But I suppose that’s what got her attention in the first place.
