by submission | Dec 1, 2021 | Story |
Author: Emma M.Murray
The sound of the zipper closing echoes around my pristine kitchen. I notice, not for the fist time, how eerily quiet our home is. My opulent floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the Atlantic, lack any real substance… or fingerprints.
“Did ya remember the Merlot?” Tom shouts in. He has meticulously packed the jeep with everything we need for our camping trip.
“We’ll drink it watching the sunset on the ridge, it’ll be spectacular.”
I have no doubt that it will.
It always is.
But there’s always something missing.
“Tom… I’m thirty-nine next month, don’t you think it’s time…” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“Oh not this again! Look at how great our lives are! We said we’d wait.”
“I know, I know,” even though I really didn’t know when I’d agreed to that.
“I’m just afraid, I’m getting older…”
“Don’t worry about that, you’re fit and healthy… let’s go!”
Dismissing the conversation, and my unimportant feelings.
We begin our hike to The Poisoned Glen from the valley below.
A botched translation of our mother tongue turning heavenly to poisoned, in days gone by.
He walks ahead of me.
I pause momentarily, absorbing the beauty of our surroundings.
Lowering my shoulders.
“You OK?” he calls back, observing my reflection.
“Just taking a break.”
He retreats to where I’m rooted.
Encircled by miles of lush greens and towering mountains.
Pops of yellow ragwort scatter the countryside, like sprinkles of sunshine.
“Why do you need a break? They’re new boots! They were expensive!” he declares.
Constantly judging…
Never letting me just…breath.
“C’mon, I want to pitch before dusk.”
Persistently nudging…
Head down, I trek behind, following his footsteps.
Wondering if I’ve always been her.
The ‘yes dear, no dear, anything you want dear’ kinda girl.
Standing on the summit, I see a rocky plateau jutting out from the face of the mountain.
This is the spot.
Slowly we descend the treacherous terrain.
Scree loosens beneath us with every step.
Without warning he loses his balance.
Cruel arms flail helplessly as he falls.
His head strikes a rock, hard.
Coming to an abrupt halt.
Instinctively I run to him…
One look, diminishes my concern, and cements my inferiority.
He’s OK.
We pitch the tent, through stubborn dizziness and a pounding headache.
The sun throws a kaleidoscope of oranges and reds across the sky.
A fire’s seemingly indistinguishable flames.
The pain in his head intensifies.
I pour the wine, convincing him it will help.
Knowing it won’t…
I watch as the flames turn to dancing embers.
He lies down behind me.
Unearthly gasps ring out.
He judders, knocking the wine from it’s flimsy plastic glass.
I watch as the red liquid forms a pool of betrayal at my feet.
Moments pass before the air stills.
An unknowing darkness creeps in, quietly enveloping me.
I look to the night sky, for a glimmer of hope? A twinkling of redemption?
Grey clouds conceal my fate.
I don’t need to touch him to know he’s cold.
…but he always has been.
by submission | Nov 30, 2021 | Story |
Author: Alfred C. Airone
There may be someone in my house. A stranger. There were strange lights outside an hour ago. Could they be connected to the reports of a spaceship landing?
I went out to find out what I could, but I met no one. Everyone’s staying inside. When I returned, I found my front door closed but unlocked. Had I forgotten to lock it? I think so, but I can’t be sure. I was too distracted.
Or is there someone in my house?
I hear unfamiliar sounds coming from upstairs. I go upstairs to check and I look in every room, but see no one. I don’t check closets, I don’t look under the bed in the spare room. In all honesty, I am afraid to.
Downstairs again. I’m suddenly aware of every creak in my house. I hear sounds, some of which I can identify: the window that always rattles when there is a wind, the scrape of branches against the dining room wall. I hear other noises that – have I heard them before? I don’t recognize them. Was I just not listening before?
It’s getting dark early – the wind is bringing a storm. Perhaps the spaceship had to land for some reason. The equivalent of a flat tire or a check engine light. Was there even a spaceship landing? The shouted reports I heard from the street were anxious and perhaps it was just fear speaking. I turn on the TV, check my phone. The TV is showing nothing but advertisements. My phone answers only inconclusively: “Several reports have been heard of a spaceship landing…”, “An unconfirmed rumor is spreading…”
There: a door upstairs slammed! But there is no further noise: no hurrying feet, or slithering coils, or clacking insectile paws. I remember I may have left a window open – it could have been just the wind that caused the door to slam. Or…?
In a minute I will go upstairs and check more thoroughly.
I hope there isn’t anyone in my house. Or…maybe I hope there is?
by submission | Nov 29, 2021 | Story |
Author: John Weagly
Conrad Lee answered the knock at his hotel room door to find a policeman with bulbous eyes and a puffy throat.
“Good evening, sir,” the cop said. “Did you call in a noise complaint?” His Innsmouth PD nametag said he was Officer Obed. He shifted from foot to foot, causing his hip to flash in the hallway light.
“Yes. Hours ago.”
“Sorry, sir. Busy night, full moon and all. What sort ‘a noise?”
“Chanting.”
“Uh-huh.” Obed wrote something down in a small notebook.
“I’m sound asleep,” Conrad said. “I hear a noise like a choir of cats being drowned in a bucket of turpentine. I look out my window to see a bunch of kooks standing on the beach, screeching at the sea.”
Obed twitched at the word ‘kooks.’ “Uh-huh.”
“I wanted to get away from the stress of the city. I came to your quaint, little fishing village to take in calm ocean breezes, maybe enjoy some quality seafood.”
“Innsmouth is a good place for that.” Obed said. “‘Come for the calamari – stay to become calamari!’”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, sir. Town joke. That’s all.”
“I came here for peace and quiet.” Conrad said. “Not for dusk-till-dawn beachfront chanting by a bunch of crazies!”
Obed tensed at the word ‘crazies.’ “Uh-Huh.”
“Hour after hour of ‘Coo-thoo-loo’ and ‘Foo-taa-gen’ and some guy name ‘Riley.’ And a whole lot of ‘Eee-Ah! – Eee-Ah! – Eee-Ah!’”
“Uh-huh,” Obed said.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Uh-Huh,” Obed said. He made a note. “Eee. Ah.”
“I expect you to earn whatever this fish-stick of a town pays you and go down to that beach and disband those crackpots.”
Obed stiffened at the word ‘crackpots.’ “Yes, sir.” As he turned to leave, light again reflected off of his hip.
“Hold on a sec,” Conrad said. “What is that?”
“What is what, sir?”
“On your hip. That’s not a gun or a baton.”
Obed turned back, pulling an eight-inch golden blade encrusted with jewels and carved with strange symbols. “Ceremonial dagger,” he said. “Standard issue, here in Innsmouth.”
“Standard issue?” Conrad said, surprised.
“Uh-huh. We all carry ‘em. Never know when we’ll have a chance to use ‘em.”
Conrad shook his head in disgust. “This whole town must be made up of loonies!”
A croak came out of Officer Obed’s throat. “I don’t appreciate these derogatory names you keep using to describe our townspeople.”
Conrad’s face turned red. “You don’t appreciate…” he stammered. “I don’t appreciate your tone! My tourist dollars help pay your salary.” His eyes narrowed. “I think maybe I should come down to your office and speak to your supervisor.”
With a throaty grunt, Obed slammed his dagger into Conrad Lee’s stomach. The tourist died with a shocked look on his face and a splatter of blood on hotel carpet.
“Never know when we’ll find a good sacrifice,” Innsmouth’s finest said. “I expect my supervisor will give me a raise.”
by submission | Nov 28, 2021 | Story |
Author: Tae Hyun Nam
It’s the year 4000. Automation has allowed for bountiful abundance in resources with minimal maintenance. Most people don’t need to work at all, so they have a lot of time on their hands. How do they fill this time, you ask? Perhaps spending time with loved ones? Maybe working on passion projects to share with the world? No. 99.999999999% of the population spend their lives in the DREAM interface.
The DREAM interface allows you to enter a fully immersive virtual world that the user can bend and shape to their will. A world where anyone can become a god. First, you are dropped in a hyperreal duplicate of the current universe, and from there, the world is your oyster. You can fly. You can have hot sex with anyone you see. You can create and destroy buildings with a thought. You can even fly while having sex, destroying buildings in the process. The perfect lucid dream. Any and every desire completed with a thought. With technology to automate the maintenance of the human body, everyone can stay in the DREAM 24/7, until they die.
Everyone except me. I am the only remaining human not in the DREAM. The human race has conquered the resource crisis, and now chill in their techno-utopian stupor. But they need a single human awake to make sure everything continues to run smoothly. Out of the roughly 100 billion people in this universe, of course it had to be me. I asked under what criteria I was chosen. Was I the most vigilant? The most virtuous? “Nah, it was just a random chance. Anyways, good luck!” People used to theorize that humans became more unhappy when they compared themselves with happy people around them. In that case, I must objectively be the unhappiest human alive because 99 billion people around me are literally enjoying heaven while I’m here at this desk looking at a computer monitor.
Despite my terrible luck, I’m honestly quite okay. I do work 16 hours a day, but I get 30 minute breaks every 4 hours. Because of the abundance of resources, I can create any food I want to eat for my lunch break. My favorite is Korean-style Fried Chicken. Soy Garlic flavor with extra spice. Perfect. Having to stare at a screen all day for absolutely nothing to change can be pretty boring, but I’m told people did this all the time back in the 21st Century. They didn’t even get chosen by lottery, they voluntarily participated in this activity. Anyways, today I feel more exploratory, so I’m going to have some Nepalese cuisine. It’s a mix of Chinese and Indian—
“Wake up!! Your time is up, sir.” The employee forcibly pulls the DREAM interface from my head. “We ran your credit card, and you no longer have enough money to afford our DREAM program.” I’m dazed and confused. I was just about to eat some delicious Nepalese- “That was the life you created, sir. A life with a sense of purpose, delicious food, and quiet solitude.” The security guards grab my arms and lift me off of the chair. They threw me out of the facility. I need to go back to my 9-to-5 job so that I can afford more hours on the DREAM machine. Back to the grind, I guess.
by submission | Nov 27, 2021 | Story |
Author: Rachel Sievers
Grabbing the rolled-up paper she batted the animal on the nose. Sighing with frustration she turned to her neighbor, “these humans are so cute when they are little but they are such a pain when they get older.”
“That’s why we get them as pets when they’re little. I forget how quickly they grow and become monsters.”
“I cannot tell you how many times I have thought of dropping this one off at the shelter.”
“Petunia Rose you wouldn’t!”
“Of course I wouldn’t, but if there was ever a human that has driven me closest to it, it is this one.”
“Are you having a hard time potty-training?”
“No, it took to that rather fast, within its first few months in the cage, but it’s the escapes.”
“Oh no, that’s the worse. Did you adopt it older?”
“Yes, we had a hard time getting a younger one. You know their planet is dying, they destroy everything they touch.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“Yes, but anyway, I was worried there wouldn’t be as many shipments coming anymore with the planet’s death and so I settled for an older one. You know, my kids have been begging me for one for years.”
“You are such a good mom.”
“Well, I try. But of course, just like I thought, they have no interest in it now that the novelty has worn off. I can barely get the children to walk it and feed it.”
“Kids.”
“I know.”
The pair sipped their tea in quiet contemplation until the human started to take off again towards the white fence that separated the neighbors’ lawns. Yanking on the lead the human fell backward tumbling to the ground. “Now come here,” she said and the human walked towards her. “There’s a good girl.” She said and ran her fingers over the brown hair, her fingers came back a bit dirty, she would need to have the kids bath the thing.
“She seems pretty mild-mannered to me.” Her neighbor said, “she came when you called, that’s something. I swear, it took mine ages to learn that trick.”
“I guess she did, and like I said, she potty-trained in a decent amount of time. I think she is rather smart but just obstinate.”
“Did you hear about what Aspen did?”
“Aspen from three doors down or Aspen from around the block.”
“Around the block,” her neighbor said and they shared a knowing smile. “Well, she finally got a buzzing device for her human. The silly thing wouldn’t stop making this high-pitched noise. You know she adopted hers from a shelter.”
“Oh, that explains a lot, those shelter ones are so much harder to work with. One almost always has to get a specialty trainer.”
“I bet, but anyway, she strapped that collar on her and turned it on. The noise stopped right away.”
“Incredible, but did it hurt the human?”
“She said no, but you know Aspen. It doesn’t make a peep anymore. I’m sure her neighbors are grateful.”
“My kids do like when it makes noises, at least when they are nice noises. We haven’t had a problem with noise just running away. We have to keep it tied up all the time.”
“Have you thought of one of those perimeter fences, the electric ones?”
“Now, that might work. I wonder where I can find one of those. More tea?”
“No, I’m good. I should be getting along soon. My kids will think I’ve abandoned them.”
“I’m sure they will. Thank you for the advice. I will look into those fences.”
“Good, I think there was a coupon on one in the paper. It seems humans are becoming very popular, maybe because of the planet dying, and we won’t be able to get them soon.”
“Maybe. So good to see you. Let’s do this again soon.”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Watching her leave by the side gate she turned and found the end of the lead empty. Those darn humans never learned.
by submission | Nov 26, 2021 | Story |
Author: David Henson
She’s dead.
She can’t be dead. And quite talking to yourself. I thought you, I, we … got passed that.
Stress, like from killing someone, resurrects bad habits.
She was never really alive. Not in a human sense.
But in an android sense, she was. And now she is, I assure you, dead. Look at the odd angle of her neck. Her spinal cable is broken. And they’re going to think you killed her.
She fell down the steps on her own.
Well, there was that nudge.
Not enough for her to fall.
And when she reached out, you didn’t try to grab her.
She’d have pulled me down with her.
And she scratched your arms. Oh, yeah, they’re going to say you pushed her. No one will believe an android would lose her balance.
Her oscilloscope must have malfunctioned.
Gyroscope.
I’m going to wake her up.
Don’t touch the body. You’ll leave DNA.
My DNA’s already on her.
Let’s go to bed. Get a good night’s rest. Things won’t seem so hopeless tomorrow morning after the sun chases away the spying eyes.
Those are stars.
Hmph.
#
Listen. Hear that?
I don’t hear anything.
Kitchen clatter. I smell coffee.
I don’t hear or smell anything. She’s dead, I tell you. Look for yourself.
You look. I’ll wait here.
You know that’s not possible.
OK, we’ll both go to the stairs, but I’m not looking. I’m keeping my eyes closed.
You realize that if your eyes are closed so are mine. We’re liable to fall down the stairs, too.
OK, OK. I propose a comprise. Let’s wait here in bed for an hour. If she hasn’t brought coffee up by then, we’ll go look.
OK, OK.
#
See? She’s still sprawled at the bottom of the stairs.
Maybe we can repair her.
#
“What happened?”
“You fell down the steps. We … I fixed you. I feared you broke your spinal cable, but you just twisted it.”
“You put my head on backwards.”
“I’m no expert.”
You’d think she’d be a little grateful.
Give her a minute. She’s probably disoriented.
“I can’t walk around with my head on backwards. I’m going to the android hospital.”
“Sorry but your warranty’s expired. I keep getting calls to purchase an extension, but I don’t trust those people.”
Tell her she can adapt.
“Can’t you just walk backwards?”
“Backwards? Backwards. I remember now. We were at the top of the stairs. You told me to hurry up then you pushed me. I fell backwards.”
Uh oh. Say something.
“Not a push. A tiny nudge. You lost your balance ‘cause your oscilloscope malfunctioned.”
Idiot.
“I have rights. I’m going to the police. You’re in big trouble.”
Stop her.
How? She’s strong.
She’s not allowed to hurt you. I’ll grab her. Now!
“Let go of me. I’m warning you. You know how strong I am.”
“You’re not allowed to hurt me. Forget about the police and make a fresh pot of coffee.”
That’s putting her in her — Ugh … can’t breathe.
“You’re …choking … me … Not …allowed.”
“I warned you. Now you let go first.”
#
Whew. That was scary. I thought for a minute she was going to strangle us.
Android safety protocols are supposed to be foolproof. She must have been bluffing.
Do androids bluff?
I think it’s a glitch because her head’s on backwards. I think—
“Hey, down there. Bring up my coffee.”
#
“Here’s your coffee. We … I was thinking you should go to the android hospital. I’ll find some way to pay.”
“Never mind. I’ve decided I prefer my head this way.”
See what you’ve done?
Quit talking to me.
