by submission | May 3, 2023 | Story |
Author: Evan MacKay
The holographic simulacrum was a perfect image of her mother. Same long flowing black hair that framed her heart shaped face. It was almost like seeing her in person. Maddi fought back the urge to reach out and grasp for her mother’s hand, knowing she would only find air, and instead rocked back on her heels.
“Jeremy, and Max were out late again last night,” Maddi said. “I heard them come in. I think they were at the Harrington’s. Drinking.”
The last part would have made her mother mad once, but the simulacrum’s only response was to scrunch up its face and tilt its head, just like her mother would have done when confused.
“It’s hard with you not being here. Dad, he’s…he’s not the same. None of us are. I tried to get him to come see you. He won’t. I know that must hurt you,” Maddi said.
Again, her mother’s simulacrum just gave her that confused look. That look spoke on the true nature of their relationship, of the distant gap that was now between them. Maddi tightened her jaw and kicked the stone headstone, momentarily causing the simulacrum to waver before regaining solidity.
“I just wish you were back, Momma,” Maddi said. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” the simulacrum said. It was the same voice–her mother’s voice, spoken with the same inflections, the same soft confidence. It was too much for Maddi, and she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Please, Mamma, please come back,” she said, gasping for breath. “Please, please, please…”
“But, Maddi,” the simulacrum said, causing Maddi to look up at the face of her mother. “I can’t come back. I am dead.”
Maddi stared up at the eyes of the simulacrum, as she wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. The simulacrum looked back at her, though it did not see her. Its audio sensors were simply picking up on the sound waves of her mouth. Not for the first time Maddi was forced to remember that this was not her mother. This holographic projection, which looked so life-like, which had been programmed to mimic all the physical quirks of her mother, was in fact not her mother.
Maddi pressed the button on the raised plinth beside her, and the simulacrum wavered before disappearing back into the holographic projector built into the headstone of her mother’s grave. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a bouquet of flowers and gently set them down in front of the headstone. Then she turned and left the cemetery.
by submission | May 2, 2023 | Story |
Author: Majoki
If you believe in monsters, you believe in Bechevinka.
As child refugees growing up in New Beijing on the southern tip of the subarctic Kamchatka Peninsula, we’d heard all the stories. Tales of fire and ice, volcanoes and glaciers, radiation and mutation.
Always beginning with Bechevinka, the remote inlet where in the early 1960s the Soviet admiralty built a nuclear submarine base. A top secret military facility of the highest priority–until it wasn’t. Bechevinka got ghosted, taken off the maps. Half a century ago, severe radiation leaks from the base’s experimental breeder reactors spooked the high command into quarantining the area.
But abandonment doesn’t mean surrender. Life is eager, opportunistic, hungry.
Atomic decay is slow, yet quite satisfying to certain cellular processes looking to gain quick competitive advantages. Cell by cell, mitosis by mitosis, Bechevinka’s failed breeder reactors began to breed surprisingly successful variants. A progeny transforming their radioactive wasteland into a mutant wonderland.
For decades, as the Sino Protectorate’s imperial reach expanded into Kamchatka, local squatters, looters, and adventurers fed stories of the fantastic until the region became fat with reports of behemoth wolves, moose, reindeer, bears, elk, and wildcats. Fierce enough giants, but there were even more intriguing tales of strange hybrids, deviant species, impossible beasts. Monsters.
So much for Bechevinka stories. The Protectorate wanted science.
A field team went in. Nothing came out. A second. Then a third. That’s all I was ever told, though I could see well beyond the Protectorate’s official consternation to their unspoken dread. Why else would they come to me? A fortune teller.
Through war, famine and drought, my mother risked her life many times to get me to a safer place, to a much fuller life. She told me I had a gift. That I was a seer. She said I could not only see the future, but make it a better one.
Right. All I’d ever done was hide behind a crystal ball and lose myself in tea leaves, divining convenient truths for New Beijing’s ever-superstitious elite. Until the officials came asking what I could foretell about Bechevinka. They wanted answers.
So, I gave them what they wanted: permission to exterminate themselves. I told them I foresaw Bechevinka’s promise. Superhumans. Unassailable power for their ruling class. But they must go themselves. Expose themselves to Bechevinka’s transformative elements.
Enough went. Enough high officials perished that I felt I’d fulfilled my mother’s prophecy of a better future.
You see, my mother was beaten to death by Protectorate thugs because she’d helped me escape from child traffickers who paid those same high officials huge kickbacks. She died giving me the gift of freedom. My gift, my clairvoyance, couldn’t save her from simple greed and ruthlessness. Our real kryptonite.
It’s not hard to see that Bechevinka isn’t the only place which breeds monsters.
by Julian Miles | May 1, 2023 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
“Nine hundred ordinary people have experienced portal transit to Nambinull with the help of a Candamar grant. Nine hundred lives transformed thanks to the generosity of our donors, many of whom come from impoverished zones themselves.”
Doffen Stahl looks up from the prompt screen, the lenses of his contacts strobing green in the barrage of flash photography his raised head causes.
With a little smile, he turns his head to one side, then continues.
“The Candamar is the greatest humanitarian effort since the Tidal Bastion Projects at the end of the last century, and,” he turns back, seemingly gazing into some private distance, “I believe it represents a path forward, rather than an escape from the consequences of the past.”
There are a few murmurs of quiet outrage, but the majority seem to agree.
A lone hand is raised. Doffen points to it.
“Your question?”
The hand drops. A woman’s voice fills the silence.
“Nancy Tarn, Excelsior Intergalactic Network. What percentage of those transited does this represent?”
Doffen brings up a personal holo and rapidly gestures in a query.
“The latest ratified figures do not include the most recent migration. Up to that, the nine hundred represents three percent of those transited.”
There are expressions of disbelief. The susurrus of query is along the lines of ‘why is the total so small?’
Doffen raises a long-fingered hand.
“We cannot rush this. No matter how much political pressure, Nambinull can only support a small population until infrastructure and crops are established.”
There are nods of grudging acceptance.
Doffen signals me with the hand he didn’t raise. I hasten up onto the stage. Raising my hand to prevent lip reading, I whisper nothing in his ear. My job is to give him an opportunity to leave.
“Regrettably, I am needed elsewhere. Please download today’s information pack should you wish.”
There’s a round of applause as he leaves the stage. I trail behind his two protection drones. Looks like he’s heading straight for our limotruck.
The hatch seals shut. With a sigh, Doffen sags into the support couch.
“I’ll never get used to a whole gravity. How do they do it?”
I chuckle.
“They evolved here, remember?”
He blinks, then laughs.
“Oh yes. Slipped my minds.”
Jade lenses slide free, revealing pupilless white eyes. He looks at me.
“Do you ever take those sunglasses off?”
“Only when I sleep.”
He nods.
“I saw a caution marker when I looked up the transit statistics. What happened?”
I knew he’d notice.
“Two of the ‘ordinary people’ were security agents. We kept them in a daze until all the replaced were complete, then let them go along with. It’ll be a good test of the masquerade.”
Doffen sits up a little.
“If they suspect?”
“We’ll secure them, mindscan and replace them, then correct whatever tipped the originals off.”
He nods and settles back.
“Good enough. When is our colony ship scheduled to arrive at Nambinull?”
“Seventeen months.”
“The Nambinull disaster will officially happen a week after unloading completes?”
“Yes. Earth will mourn another lost colony. After a two-month wait, Candamar will push for the establishment of a portal to the next habitable planet on the list, Fexune.”
“How many more times can we get humans to provide funds and fuel for us?”
“Predictions say once more. After that, public opinion will turn. Candamar will fail. Doffen Stahl will perish in a fire, with no remains. Meanwhile, we’ll be on the way to Fexune.”
Doffen sighs contentedly.
“With our people saved, and sufficient docile originals to form the stock of a useful slave race.”
by submission | Apr 30, 2023 | Story |
Author: Matthew Wollin
In the beginning, everything was everything, and nothing was nothing. This lasted for an infinite period, which was no time at all, because time did not yet exist.
Then the everything split into something, and something else. The something was called Quark, and the something else was called Lepton.
As something, Quark wanted children. Quark’s children were called Down and Up, and Quark kept them very close. When Down and Up eventually had children, Down’s child was called Strange and Up’s child was called Charm. Finally Strange gave birth to Bottom and Charm gave birth to Top, and the generations of somethings were complete.
As something else, Lepton wanted siblings, and split into Electron and Electron Neutrino. Electron and Electron Neutrino each split again to make more siblings, who were Muon and Muon Neutrino, and then still more, Tau and Tau Neutrino. Because they were siblings, the Leptons traveled independently, unlike the Quarks, who all traveled together.
As the Quark children and the Lepton siblings grew older and explored the new universe, they eventually came into contact with each other. Because neither had ever had to communicate with a different kind of something before, the somethings and the something elses communicated the only way they knew how, by splitting off little bits of themselves to carry messages back and forth. These messages took on a life of their own and became Bosons.
Since Bosons were created to communicate, they were much faster than their progenitors, and they began to explore faster and faster. Eventually the Bosons explored so fast and so close to each other that the force of their movement took on new life of its own, called Atoms. As more and more Atoms emerged, the universe became so crowded that the Atoms were forced together into novel configurations, called Stars and Planets.
Like their composite Bosons, Stars and Planets wanted to move and communicate, and sent out Gravity and Magnetism to explore, which twisted and turned the universe into new shapes. Eventually the right shape was found for a new kind of life, called Humans.
Humans felt the same urge to explore as the beings they came from, and split off pieces of themselves to do so, called Emotions and Thoughts and Microscopes. These pieces grew more complicated and crowded until eventually a new being emerged from the evolving chaos, called God.
God is the youngest of all beings and thus the most capricious. As God begins to search for other Gods and explore, a new being will eventually be born. In this way infinite beings have been created from a single moment of splitting, and their attempts to communicate with each other constitute everything in our universe.
by submission | Apr 29, 2023 | Story |
Author: Condallas Snokoanovich
I lie awake in the darkness, staring at an exceptionally clear star-filled sky. Two moons in crescent phase are peering from the horizon like the eyes of a black cat watching from the distance.
The quietness around me would have been comforting in my past life, but now it only serves as a sad reminder that I am alone.
My mind wanders back to another evening in my recent past when I gazed upon a similar starlit night from the deck of my small yacht as it rested upon calm waters. On that night, I was viewing a sky that is now light years away. The constellations of Earth were so familiar at that time. The night skies were comforting for me as they provided a sense of direction, guidance, and orientation on my home planet. Now, I look upon a very strange landscape. I find myself observing from an unfamiliar perspective at a distant constellation that looks like the Milky Way galaxy; and, somewhere in that vast cluster of just under 4,000 solar systems lies my home.
*****
My voyage that night was meant only to serve as a temporary means of escape. My short trek was meant only as a brief diversion from an unsatisfying job and a perceived loveless personal life. The water usually had a calming effect on my otherwise troubled and chaotic existence. Unfortunately, I had no idea how my desire for temporary solitude would lead to a more permanent set of circumstances.
“Why don’t you ever talk to me?” She pleaded. “You spend more time with that damn boat than with your own family!”
“Get off my back!” I yelled. “I am so tired of your constant bitching!”
I walked out and slammed the door. Little did I realize that it would be the last time I would have words with her. Or anyone. The boat motor came to life and guided my trusty vessel toward a quiet spot. The water was like glass and, arriving at a familiar cove, I dropped anchor. Laying on the deck gazing at the stars for several minutes, my eyelids grew heavy, and my weary body went below deck to get rest.
Violent shaking of the boat and a rush of water entering the cabin interrupted my peaceful sleep. The watercraft started to rip apart before my eyes, and my hands clutched anything that could float. The night was extremely bright as I held on to the floating remnants of my vessel, and I now peered at two full moons lighting the water. I could see the outline of shoreline near as I swam alone in the dark. Was it a wormhole? A temporal disturbance? A parallel universe?
*****
Tonight, all I have is the quiet. I long for another voice. Any voice. There are days that I would give my final breath for just one more conversation with wife my family. A heated conflict with her would be a welcome occurrence, like an interlude with an old lost love. Melancholy consumes me as I find myself forgetting the common hallmarks of a civilized world. I struggle to remember my daughter’s voice, the view from our backyard, or the even the smell of exhaust in heavy traffic.
Given the placement of the stars, I view my home from a planet somewhere in Andromeda. Looking at the sky, I dream that one day I can eventually reunite with my home and family. Somewhere above me in the Milky Way galaxy lies a planet called Earth, and I hope for a miracle that someday allows me to return.
by submission | Apr 28, 2023 | Story |
Author: Melissa Kobrin
Dear Kayley,
I have no idea when you’ll read this. I guess it depends on what planets your parents decide to trade with before coming back to Provident. But I need to vent to someone, and you’re the only one I can talk to about this. Just please try to be sympathetic okay? Here’s the big news: Ben broke up with me. It was so stupid. HE’S so stupid! It was during lunch today, and I had to pretend to be fine until school let out. He gave me some lame speech about how I deserved better than him, but I know it was really because I have some pimples. Which happens to LITERALLY EVERYONE. But he can’t look up whether I’ll be hot soon, and he doesn’t want to risk having an ugly girlfriend. He’s such a shallow jerk. I’m honestly glad that I’m not dating him anymore. It was creepy how much he bragged to his friends about me being ‘one of a kind’. I mean, I know I told you it was sweet, but now I know how completely egotistical he is. I can’t talk to anyone here about it, though. It’s too poor little rich girl. My parents are so awesome that the Council let them have me naturally and I should be so honored to be an Original and not a clone like everyone else. I’m so special my boyfriend just broke up with me and I’m going to die alone. Bethany was trying to cheer me up earlier, and I wanted to scream. You remember her from when we all hung out last time you were here? Her template was some pop star from Old Earth, and she’s pretty now and everyone knows she’s going to be gorgeous when she grows up. Plus she can sing. Everyone wants to go out with her. I know you think our whole system is stupid though, so I can complain to you. I just wish I could meet a cute guy who doesn’t wonder if I’ll get Alzheimer’s when we’re like eighty and he’ll have to take care of me. What’s it like out there on whole planets full of Originals? Can you bring some back for me? I hope you’re doing better than I am right now. Send me cute pictures of your cats. I need French Fry and Gizmo adorableness while I rage watch TV and eat ice cream. I miss you, try to convince your parents to come back to Provident soon!
Love you girl,
Addison
