by submission | Oct 4, 2022 | Story |
Author: Reba Elliott
The sun rises and sets, then the other sun rises and and sets, and then the planet rises and the sun rises and the planet sets and the other sun rises and the sun sets and the other sun sets. There is light everywhere. Leaves grow long and wild and in all directions, reaching for every light source at once. And our shadows, also, grow long and wild, and in all directions. They fade in and out, stretch and dance. There are years without night.
We spin and the planets spin and the suns spin. It is dizzying. We live on a moon, one of several, orbiting a planet, orbiting two stars. And out there, other galaxies spin and spin, full of a million lights.
Have you ever seen a ball made of a hundred tiny mirrors? They reflect light as the ball spins, sending little spots of light flying across the walls and floor. Can you imagine being inside of that ball of mirrors, all of them reflecting your light back at you, over and over and over until you go blind? No. I agree. I’d rather be on the outside too.
It isn’t strange living in this environment if you were born here and lived here your whole life, like I have. My house is covered in vines stretching toward one sun or the other. I never have to rotate my houseplants. Every wall is filled with windows.
How do you know what you were meant to do? Some of us are born into it. Some of us go searching for a long time and then eventually come home to work on the family farm. Some of us go searching and never return. I don’t know what those ones find, because they don’t come back to tell us.
Do the plants ask what they were meant to do? I think so. Otherwise why would they be reaching first for one star and then for the other?
The straight line: that is something I know nothing about. We just spin, here. Here, we just spin. And everything around us spins, and the whole universe is spinning. That is the one constant in the universe: everything spins.
by Julian Miles | Oct 3, 2022 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
The city burns behind them. Long shadows stretch almost to the citadel of government. Late afternoon sunlight picks out moments in bright clarity: metallic reflections from the bent panels of a vandalised coupe, a discarded sheet spread like spilt milk, the sparkle of falling tears.
Ahead of such scenes, a mob stands. The roaring of righteous anger has faded in the face of the rows of masked soldiers who block the street. Behind them can be seen the squat forms of armoured cars.
This impasse has stood unchanged for nearly an hour. Within the mob, a few arteries of anger seek to drive it forward. Veins of unspoken reticence keep it still. Within the serried ranks, there is little movement: mainly the shifting of position that betrays discomfort. This crisis arose faster than expected. A number of the troops are locals. For all that command has tried to minimise the number of them at the front, unit cohesion has to take precedent over the threat of adverse emotional reactions.
There’s a stirring within the mob. Surveillance images are confused for a moment, then a smarter observer pulls the watchers back so an overview can be gained: a figure moves forward. The mob parts and reforms behind. Little eddies of concern can be seen in the wake.
Stepping into the clear space between the groups, the figure is revealed to be an older man in nondescript casual clothing. He bears no placard, displays no holograms, wears no badges or disguise. In his arms a child is cradled.
Walking to a point between the two groups, he crouches and places the limp figure down, taking a moment to tuck a roll of material under the child’s head.
A hesitant voice calls from amongst the soldiers: “Is… Is he hurt?”
The man straightens up, shaking his head: “Bless you for asking, but no. Royan got overstimulated when the drummers joined in. He’s taking a nap to process it.” He looks down and smiles: “Pretty soon he’ll be back to demand we all play football with him.”
There are nods of understanding on both sides.
The man looks about. He raises his voice. It’s deep: carries well.
“Four minutes ago, somebody made a mistake. A press release about this,” he waves his hands to encompass the stalled riot, “was sent to Reuters earlier than intended. It says dozens of soldiers and rioters were killed by a suicide bomber. It also says left-wing fanatics claimed responsibility.”
Soldiers grip their weapons tighter. A few begin to bring them up, but are ordered to stand down.
On a nearby rooftop a hidden observer receives a terse message, then recalls a drone with its cargo undelivered.
The man points towards the citadel of government.
“I came here to protest against the uncaring bastards who are driving ordinary people to destitution and death so they can hoard even more wealth.”
He looks down: “I want my boy to be able to carry on playing football, because the medical care he needs is affordable, the social care he sometimes needs is available, and both are given by experts.”
The man sits down cross-legged, spreading his arms in a gesture for others join him.
“I will not be party to a hoax that kills. Will you?”
The ripple of people sitting down is halfway through the mob when one of the soldiers steps forward, slings his weapon, and sits down. The ripple that starts travels faster.
Sitting by his sleeping son, he looks up at the hovering watchers from between two groups of seated people.
“No massacres. No compliance. Your move.”
by submission | Oct 2, 2022 | Story |
Author: Rainbow Heartshine
We have enough feathers for a couple of mattresses now.
I’m not such an awful person as to use so, but how are you supposed to dispose of angel down?
Whether they count as the real thing is over my head, theologically. It shouldn’t be. When she showed up and explained, I could get it. Ancient saints might’ve made some mistakes about her kind, but Spock would be able to do the math–and what a beautiful calculation. When we meet, the shape she takes is the optimal solution to the equation of her nature and my desires.
The shining silver demon that produces is out of my dreams, but the kind innocence on her face, that’s her contribution, I could never have imagined. It gave me pause the first night, but she assured me not every stereotype about her kind is wrong. The demon and innocence are both the truth. We play the games you’d think.
Usually.
Then one night instead of shining silicone bat wings that glowed with starscapes when the lights were off, she had feathers, sparkly and pure, like something off a Christmas card.
It was alright until I got my hand in them.
I pulled every single one out. I have every night since. Things taken off her body still exist when she stops manifesting, so the fluffy irony builds up–my succubus girlfriend’s as gay as I am, and it’s filling my closet with angel feathers.
She says it’s delicious catharsis, but I worry. Hatred is poison, to her kind. She says she would choke if it was her I was hating, but some poisons are so subtle. I loathe myself for desiring this. I can do the math that lets her bear the violence for me without becoming the object of my hate, but I worry, not well enough. Never has that stupid “Lesbian sex as sushi” metaphor been more apt as my hope I’m cutting this spiritual fugu right.
Her answer to my fear is confusing, or at least I want it to be. She says if we stop this here, that will be the hate that brings her death.
I say I’ll never sleep in a bed made of hate, and beg her to find other food, the nights I’m like this, but it’s no use, we’re in love.
Can you see the flaw in my math? I can, tonight–sorry if you hoped this would be one of those riddle stories. I just got the answer, so I’m telling you.
I’ve built a new life, replaced everything church gave me, even, I find myself thinking, as she walks through that door perpendicular to everything she uses to get into my bedroom, spiritual transcendence. Yet something misses. An ineffable comfort I can’t give a name to. If I can’t find it with her, where will I ever?
She has the answer, tonight. It freaked me right out when she showed up looking entirely human and dressed in a wedding gown–until she took my hand and laid it on her body and the fabric burst into flames like I was carved from the core of a star, and revealed her unearthly demon-flesh underneath. The fire is warm, like kisses, but looks as hellish and dreadful as the darkness I feel inside, playing this game. Smoke rises and ash falls as we slowly, relishingly destroy the dress. The smoke smells of roasting marshmallows, and vanishes through the ceiling like this is a videogame.
The ash is the solution. Where it lands, it reassembles itself into beautiful, silk bedsheets.
by submission | Oct 1, 2022 | Story |
Author: James Moran
In the days when Earth was small the other planets eyed it hungrily and argued over how they would split it up.
Like a mother protecting her young, the Moon circled Earth, a wary eye on each of the planets. She visited the ears of Venus and Mercury until she finally convinced them to forge an alliance with Earth and with her.
Still she was apprehensive.
Out of desperation she took a bite from Earth. Instead of feeding herself with that bite, she fed the bite with herself. In her stomach it grew and gathered strength. Once satisfied, she spat upon Earth a young man who stood upon strong limbs and yielded a sword and shield.
The sword flickered. The shield rattled. The young man fell to his knees, shivering in fear.
Go, his mother commanded. Protect us from the far planets.
I want to stay with you, Mother, the young man wept.
If you do not go, then I will, the Moon warned.
I will stay here and protect you, the young man argued.
If you stay we’ll perish that much faster. You have one day to decide, the Moon said. Stay here and die with us, or go so that we might survive.
Beneath the weight of fear and disgrace the young man could not even touch his sword.
The Moon disappeared over the horizon. As soon as the young man could no longer see the Moon, the thought of her coming to harm became unbearable. His hands quaked and swelled. He leapt into space armed only with rage. The outer planets hardly had time to grow concerned over this crazed boy before he was upon them cutting their ranks and handily smashing them into one another. Never before had the outer planets fought such an opponent.
Quickly they retreated.
Eager to reunite with his mother and bask in her pride, the young man returned to the inner planets. Yet, spotting the Moon and fragile Earth in the distance, he stopped short.
He glanced back at those outer planets.
Right there, between the hungry outer planets and the defenseless inner planets, he made a new home
by submission | Sep 30, 2022 | Story |
Author: David Barber
Rumour had it that Mother would soon order them to quit the planet, so Six rose early, trying not to wake her sisters as she donned her mask and breather.
Outside, dust swirled around remotes abandoned the previous day by her siblings, who gloved these metal figures from the comfort of the ship.
Alone of her sisters, Six doubted that instruments, no matter how ingenious, could make sense of what happened here. She believed only her human presence, her intuition, might do that. She even removed her mask once to taste the atmosphere, odorous and acrid from a careless past.
So far she had found nothing of note, but she worked urgently and about mid-afternoon was rewarded with an enigmatic find.
Following ruined walls into an area assigned to Twelve, she uncovered a container. She smuggled the tin back to her own diggings before prising it open.
Caution served her well. The silvered ghost inside was a photograph, of a couple arm in arm, squinting into the sun’s brightness. A precious moment from a time before these ancients squandered their planet.
Six brushed the picture with a trembling finger. Of all her siblings, only she had wept at the frail bubbles of glass they sometimes discovered, totems hung in every room, not trusting the dark.
She wondered if this woman loved, or had been loved—
A metal figure loomed over her. Despite being an inferior, Ten was the nearest Six had to an ally amongst her siblings. Still, Six instinctively concealed the find in its tin.
“Mother says we are leaving tomorrow. The remotes are being called in. She said to tell you.”
“But what of our work?” cried Six.
“No time. Mother believes more barbarians are coming.”
“They would not dare!” But the notion that Mother might be wrong was both difficult and dangerous to say. “The Empress would not allow it,” Six added lamely.
After a moment, Ten’s remote shrugged, then turned to follow others plodding back to the ship.
Two had boldly seated herself beside Mother. She had discovered a broken metal blade inscribed with ancient script: STAINLESS, with its notions of purity and innocence, and ST, a shorthand for Saint. Two was convinced the site was the ruin of a church.
Six waited in silence until Mother beckoned her forward.
She didn’t need to point out the photograph contradicted Two’s notions.
“Note the ocean behind them,” Six began. “From the Age of Water, which suggests a date…”
Two interrupted, without Mother reprimanding her.
“The taller one is male. These two are primitives from before the Exodus. I am no prude, but their display of bare limbs is why this distasteful item was concealed.”
Six ploughed on. “Surely we cannot leave without knowing what happened here?”
They had been a rich and privileged folk, a superpower of their own time, yet history had engulfed them just the same. “Finds such as this—”
As she struggled to explain, Ten shoved Twelve forward, her voice triumphant. “A find I saw you thieve from your own sister!”
As the siblings fell to squabbling, Two patted Mother’s arm reassuringly.
“We already know what happened to this world. Their empire fell because of men.”
But Mother only knew that time was short, that enemies circled, and the distant Empress held her precarious title in name only.
“We have nothing to fear,” Two shrugged. “Though perhaps we should move on.”
She glanced slyly at Mother’s tired face.
“Leave everything to me.”
by submission | Sep 29, 2022 | Story |
Author: Tom Neuschafer
William was not a man of science, which would make traveling through time far more difficult than if he were. But what he lacked in scientific genius, he made up for with practical knowledge and perseverance. And he was now a man of tremendous wealth.
William’s first step was to purchase a reliable cryostasis company. This provided him with a consistent and secure means to travel through the ages. His first sleep was brief, just a few decades. In that time, his invested wealth had grown exponentially. He used that wealth to secure the most advanced artificial intelligence available. That intelligence went by the name of Emma. William spoke to her:
“I’m engrossed in a journey through time, Emma. Can you aid me in that journey?”
“Yes,” Emma began, “I believe I can.” And with that, the next phase of William’s journey had begun.
In order for Emma to effectively aid William in his endeavor, she needed to understand his overarching goals and motivations for pursuing them. William explained that he had lost everyone and everything that gave his life meaning and purpose. He needed to redefine his purpose, and give his life new meaning. He decided to devote his time and resources to aiding mankind. He searched for the greatest problem that mankind would ever face. He described his thinking to Emma:
“As long as humanity exists, it can survive and thrive. And as long as the universe exists, humanity can exist. Therefore, we must ensure that there is always a universe for humanity to live in.”
Emma agreed with William’s logic. The issue was that neither human nor artificial intelligence had reached the point where they could reasonably predict what would occur at the end of the universe’s existence. This would come in time. And so William would take his next long sleep. While in stasis, Emma would monitor and contribute to humanity’s development. Once a significant advancement related to William’s goal was reached, Emma would wake him.
Seven-hundred years later, Emma woke William from his sleep.
“What did you find, Emma?”
“In several billion years, the universe will contract until it collapses in on itself. Following this collapse a new universe will be born. In order to ensure the continuation of human life following this event, we will need a vessel strong enough to survive both the pressures of a massive black hole and a Big Bang. This new Big Bang and the universe it will give life to will be where humanity continues on.” William and Emma worked together to envision such a vessel. William then went back into stasis. He would lay there until aging was no longer a problem for humanity.
He awoke a thousand years later. Aging had been eliminated. Trillions of human beings lived and worked without the limitation of a lifespan. Emma had orchestrated the construction of a vessel which would carry all of humanity into a new universe born out of this one. The billions of worlds of humanity all worked toward completion of the vessel. It took their societies another thousand years to complete.
With this vessel, William, Emma, and all of humanity would have the means to travel through an infinite number of future universes. And they did so for eternity.
