by submission | Jun 23, 2021 | Story |
Author: Emma Edling Müller
We are a few lightyears beyond Mars when I first hear the rumble.
It’s a subtle thing, the faintest of thunders, more an absence of silence than any particular sound. The kind of noise that’s hardly there, but once you notice it, it’s all you can hear. The control room is otherwise deathly quiet, everyone staring at their screens. I clear my throat.
”Does anybody else hear that?”
Susan looks up at me, frowning.
”Hear what?”
I am about to describe the sound to her, suggest a hiccup in the sound system or maybe a failure in one of the fans, when the captain grabs my gaze and holds it tightly, a warning in her eyes. Don’t.
I stare at her. Her eyes remain unyielding. The rumble continues in the background, humming the same out-of-tune note. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.
I shrug in response to Susan, who wastes no more time looking at me. The captain cocks her head once, firmly, towards the door, and begins walking.
”Are we in trouble?” I ask, struggling to keep my tone light. She does not do me the courtesy of smiling.
”One could say that”, she says without blinking. ”The engine is malfunctioning.”
”Oh. What’s Susan’s take on -”
”Susan doesn’t know yet”, the captain says. ”No one does, as far as I’m aware. I can’t believe none of you heard it until now. It’s been making that noise for weeks.”
”Well, what’s the course of action -”
”Listen to me very carefully.” She leans in close, her features steel in the sterile lighting. ”There is no course of action. There is nothing to be done.”
I laugh.
”You don’t mean that we’re going to – ?”
”Yes.”
”Surely there is some -”
”No. I’ve checked every code. I’ve spoken with Headquarters. This happens, sometimes, with this model. A never-ending rumble just growing louder. I’ve heard of other ships. Sometimes they make it till their next stop, if they’re very close. Sometimes contact is simply lost in the night.”
”Are we just to wait, then?”
”Wait for it or rage against it, it won’t make a difference.” She sounds tired.
”Maybe we’ll make it. We’re not that far away.”
”Maybe.” She’s never been a good liar.
”And none of the others … ?”
”They will know soon enough. It will only grow louder.”
”Aren’t they entitled to being informed?”
”Aren’t you glad, now, for the weeks of not knowing?” There’s a glint of madness in her eyes. I don’t blame her. ”Don’t you wish you were still in the dark?”
Susan looks up when I walk back in.
”She give you a hard time?”
”Not worse than usual, no.” I sit back down, my trembling legs grateful to be off duty.
”You know, about earlier … I do actually think I hear something.” I feel her eyes on the back of my head.
”Don’t worry”, I say, turning on my screen. ”I’m sure it’s nothing.”
by submission | Jun 22, 2021 | Story |
Author: John Chadwick
Jeisen rolled out of his bunk and stumbled to the viewscreen where the rest of his crew was gathered.
From orbit, it looked like a white marble with some blue swirled in it. They tracked the fabled energy source to its origin on a small city-planet, almost completely colonized and developed except for a few large bodies of water, an ecumenopolis.
For almost six Earth-years, they bounced from station to station, colony to colony – sifting through rumors from scavengers, listening to tales from drunken smugglers – piecing together clues of its whereabouts. Now, here it was before them, in a previously unexplored sector, seemingly abandoned in silent space.
“They say that once the beings of this planet developed the reactor, they all sealed themselves into cryostasis and uploaded their consciousness into a simulation to spend the rest of their lives. That true, Jei?”
“That’s what they say.”, Jeisen replied, hyper-focused on the screen displaying the planetary scan.
“The energy signature is coming from there.” He pointed at the blinking marker in the western hemisphere.
“Doesn’t look like there’s any defense systems. Scans are picking up life forms but no organic activity – like they’re dormant. Air is breathable. Let’s find an LZ close to there and check it out.”
On foot, the waypoint was nearly an hour trek from the landing zone. On their way, they passed through massive ornate gardens and courtyards made of a smooth marble-esque material that seemed to be what the entire cityscape and its structures were composed of. It appeared to be slightly eroded, presumably by the planet’s weather systems and the passing of time.
Populating the vast courtyards were many rows of large capsule-shaped vessels made of the same marbleous material. They weren’t much taller than a human and had no descriptive markings or details except for a clouded, blue porthole in which Jeisen could vaguely make out the form of the denizen within. A sort of sarcophagus-monument, where each inhabitant of this world lived their unwoken “life”. Jeisen assumed there were hundreds of thousands, possibly millions, all over the planet.
Their destination was visible from the moment they started approaching it – a looming tower structure that seemed more vertical than the others spanning the surface. There was no door or gate. They entered without greeting and unopposed.
The spiraling light emanating from the reactor’s core could be seen in the central chamber as they stepped into the large hallway leading to it. To their astonishment, the walls were adorned with beautiful animated murals of the planet’s inhabitants thriving amongst each other in vast flower meadows, colorful beaches, and spanning forests. Like recorded memories, Jeisen watched as they attended ceremonies and gatherings, cradled their children, and fell in love. For the first time since landing, he finally felt that he was meeting their hidden hosts.
“Could this be where they are now?”
Jeisen’s thought was interrupted by the echoing sound of Grek dropping his tool pack to the floor.
“Looks self-contained, which means I can remove it. Gimme a few and we can be outta here.”
“Wait…”, Jeisen said, holding his hand up, still staring at the mural. “What will happen to them?”
“Who knows? Maybe they’ll wake up, maybe they won’t.”, Grek shrugged.
Jeisen shook his head. “Pack up, we’re leaving.”
“You can’t be serious! Do you understand the impact this energy source will make on humankind? Not to mention, the payday will set us up for life!”, Grek exclaimed, throwing his arms out. “C’mon Jei, the life they’re living isn’t even real!”
“Maybe it’s not, but it’s real to them.”
by Julian Miles | Jun 21, 2021 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
The streetlights have been off for an hour. The rain has been constant for three. Through the sodden darkness comes a stranger, clad in earthy hues and righteousness.
I listen to him coming in. A mind is usually a noisy place, except in rare cases, or due to rigorous training. I’d say this intruder benefitted from both. He’s actually playing back the briefing in his head while his body moves with thoughtless, flawless stealth.
“You’ll be inserted just after full dark, with a window of sixty to ninety minutes. We know the target’s active security stands down from nightfall to dawn. The reasons for that are still unclear, but we believe some form of automated system takes over during that time.”
Fair guess, but wrong.
“Your suit gives you the profile of a small predator, so providing you don’t move like anything else, even layered motion detectors will be nullified. We’re sure there isn’t any form of pressure grid or similar, as overflights have revealed no expanses of metal big enough.”
Overflights? I’ll pass that titbit to sky-side security. They’ll be annoyed.
“Once inside the building, our intel indicates it was an average six-bedroom residence.”
‘Average’. Not a word I’d use for any home with six bedrooms.
“How it has been modified since is anyone’s guess, but given our inability to strike the target – or even come close – we have to presume baffled corridors, airlocks, maze rooms, and likely a number of lethal-effect traps too.”
Walking through their secure sites unharmed must be a challenge.
Elsie interrupts my eavesdropping with a telepathic comment.
*He’s good. I didn’t hear him open the door.*
*Yes. Definitely the best so far. Anton?*
*I don’t recognise his intrinsic pathways. I’ll need to dive him to get the details.*
Which lets Elsie and I off the hook for tonight.
*Is he far enough in to not hear the door relock?*
Anton gets in before I instruct Elsie to hold off on using her telekinesis.
*Better if he isn’t. A trained mind like his will be momentarily imbalanced by the unexpected event.*
Good enough.
*Lock the door, Elsie. All yours, Anton.*
The briefing playback stops dead as he hears the door lock behind him. I’ll give him credit, he’s an elite-plus operative. He immediately checks his vicinity, then starts running scenarios – interesting that they too are in briefing playback style.
Then Anton barges into his mind. I see the kaleidoscopic explosion of interrupted consciousness, then get out before the insanity starts.
The best way to identify attackers is how they attack. Well, according to Anton, that is. I’m betting that without being able to map the ‘shortcuts’ the mind develops in training, it’s an imprecise visual art. Problem with getting that deep into a mind is that the psychological damage from having someone else inside your head is ruinous.
I gently rouse one of the security detail.
*Sorry, Randy, but there’s a downed intruder in corridor three needing mercy.*
He wakes fully, rises and heads out, grabbing one of the silenced pistols racked above the door to the ready room.
Anton calls us.
*I had to keep him down until Randy shot him! Mental resilience like I’ve never encountered. He was ex-Delta recruited to a joint Lekem/GCHQ blacker-than-black outfit.*
*Who are Lekem?*
*Supposedly disbanded Israeli secret technology acquisition group.*
That’s grim but essential knowledge.
Elsie chips in.
*She’s undisturbed.*
Using psionics openly attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. We’d been hiding for years. Then she quietly recruited us into the clandestine psionic outfit that protects her inner cadre.
We’ve not failed her yet.
by submission | Jun 20, 2021 | Story |
Author: Ruby Zehnder
“Eight…Nine…Ten… Ready or not, here I come,” Elaina called out.
The five-year-old started her search and destroy mission in the bedroom. She explored the closet. She looked under the bed. She even emptied the sock drawer.
I held my breath as she entered the bathroom. I knew she’d never find me in hyper-space. She was too young to know about these things.
She searched the shower. She looked in the hamper, which made me snicker. As if a sixty-five-year-old grandma would hide in such a stinky space given all the other possibilities. When she left the bathroom, I exhaled loudly. She hadn’t seen me hiding in the mirror.
Next, she searched the living room and found her mother right away, lying on the couch covered by a blanket. Her mother had made a bold choice, hiding in ordinary space. But, of course, it wasn’t clever enough to fool Elaina.
“I can’t find grandma,” Elaina complained to her mother. “Maybe, she’s dead.”
Her mother said nothing, knowing that I was close by.
“Don’t give up,” her mother encouraged. “Think… If you were grandma, where would you hide?”
Elaina stopped to consider this. She thought about the little talk that we had shared when Blackie died, and she was sad. She had asked me where her cat had gone.
“The same place the stars go during the day,” I had replied. “They are in plain view, but we can’t see them because the brightness of the sun hides them. Dimensions are like that. Some hide others. Just because we can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
Elaina knew that her grandma never lied. Her mother fibbed to her all the time, but grandma — she always told the truth.
“If I were grandma, I’d hide where nobody would look for me,” Elaina said out loud, searching the room using her imagination instead of her eyes. “I’d hide here,” she shouted with excitement as she ran over to the bookcase and took down a Dr. Seuss book. She opened it eagerly, and there I was.
by submission | Jun 19, 2021 | Story |
Author: Glenn Leung
Nylar saw it at the river, staring up from under the water. Warped by ripples, it looked confused and ugly. At least that’s what Nylar thought. Having lived in darkness all her life, she wasn’t sure how to connect the dots between appearance and concept. Yet something inside her, the instinct of ancestors who had lived before the long night, told her that this thing was more than just another creature. It was something that belonged to a world that had gotten much bigger.
She thought of her mother’s warning: The light brings terrors beyond imagination. When dawn first broke, many months ago, those who couldn’t retreat to the caves were overwhelmed by the cosmic vistas presented through their long-dormant sight. Nylar, a young soul gripped by curiosity, had braved those horror stories and left her dwelling with nothing but a rope-like blindfold. When she arrived at the river, the sound and smell of water relaxed her, and she got careless. After wriggling off her blindfold, she wished she had listened to her mother.
The creature continued to gaze into her eyes. Nylar waited for it to do something, but as long as she stood staring at it, it did the same. She wanted to look away, yet something about that hideous face locked her attention. Two tiny eyes punched into a leathery face, one bigger than the other. Lipless mouth agape, baring serrated teeth embedded in mushy gums. This visage was on a misshaped head perched on a slug-like body. Two tiny hands hung from its side on straw-thin stalks, too short to be of much use. Overcome by a nauseating sense of familiarity, she bent over to touch the water and was shocked by what happened next. The creature did the same, reaching up from below. What’s more, she saw that its hands looked identical to hers.
Nylar’s mother had told stories that had been passed down many generations, from before the long night. One of them was of the Mimic; a creature of the light that copied the appearance and actions of its victims. According to legend, this creature would keep copying until it escaped into the world, taking the victim’s place. It was one of the stories that Nylar had thought of at the first hint of dawn. A story that was quickly shoved away with the panicked evacuation.
Nylar didn’t believe she looked like that monster. She thought that perhaps it was a young one with undeveloped skills. Nevertheless, it was still unsettling. It would take too long to don the blindfold, so she raced back home with eyes squeezed shut while willing more speed into her foot. She called out to her mother the moment she smelled the musk of the cave, eager to dive back into her warm embrace. However, she opened her eyes too soon. Emerging from the darkness was the outline of the creature that she had encountered at the river. What’s more, it spoke with her mother’s voice! Overcome with fright, Nylar passed out.
When Nylar woke, her mother had to spend several hours assuring her that it had all been a bad dream. Many years from now, at the height of the long day, the scholars of her species will discover the Law of Reflection. They will even accept their appearance as normal. But until then, Nylar and her brethren will continue to live in fear of the mysteries of the light.
by submission | Jun 18, 2021 | Story |
Author: Helen De Cruz
Happy thirty-first birthday, Krish!
I miss you.
I often dream you’re still alive. There’s been a mistake. We merely broke up. I scold you for being away so long.
“Sorry Sudha, I’ve been busy,” you say, “How’s our City project going?”
“Spectacularly well,” I reply.
In that brief moment between dream and waking, I am unsure whether you are alive or dead. I stretch out my arm, across your empty and cold side of the bed.
#
Now, I’m finally in our Gleaming City.
The boats rock softly as I walk down the quay and see golden domes shimmer in the distance, white and cobalt blue houses, interspersed with apricot trees, while seagulls gather around fishing sloops.
The people are young, old, of all genders and races, but invariably they look joyful. Being here is not just to play a game—it’s an expression of hope.
I was skeptical when you designed the agent-based model. In spite of many simulation runs, our agents waged no wars, suffered few pestilences, little global warming. So, I asked you, “What’s your secret? Don’t the agents have free will? Are they angels?”
You sat behind your desk, hands folded behind your head, your saxophone next to your laptop. “Nope. They are like us. It’s all down to the plumbing.”
“What plumbing?” I asked.
“Underlying all civilizations lies a vast intricate network of concepts— property, inheritance, who counts as a person. Think of it as plumbing: we don’t notice it’s there until it starts to go wrong. To improve society, you need to start with plumbing. Our leaders should be Philosopher-plumbers.”
The Gleaming City was our crucial test, a massive multiplayer online game set in a city by the sea.
I hadn’t tried the final product until today, your birthday.
#
I walk down to the harbor and hear ethereal sound of a faraway soprano sax: Coltrane’s My Favorite Things. Your favorite piece. Is that you, Krish? How many times must you die in my imagination? Enthralled like a child hearing the pied piper’s tune, I follow the tune, navigating narrow winding streets.
There you are, leaning against a wall. You stop playing. “Hi Sudha, it’s been a while. Did you come to bring me a birthday present?”
I want to yell at you.
I want to hug you.
I don’t know what to say.
You look at me, expectantly. “I’ve been playing for hours on end every day so you’d be able to find me. Seriously. I can’t get out of breath, but I sure can get bored. Let’s take a little walk in our creation.”
We stroll about, not holding hands as I feel shy and you probably too. We marvel at our city, its gurgling fountains, its clever, goofy artworks, the gentle bustle of walkers and cyclists, the terraces where people sit and talk earnestly.
“The next step is to implement our model in the real world. This is only a proof of concept,” you say.
“I’m just a simple software engineer, I can’t just go about and tell people how to organize cities!” I object.
“It’s up to you now, Sudha. Remember, I’m dead. You will need to make our City a reality. The world is burning. The world needs this City.”
I say I can’t do it.
You say I must try.
I promise to try, my final promise to you, even if hope of success is remote.
I take off my VR headset and shake my head.
My dreaming that you’re alive is already a stretch. Then, to dream that I can change the world?
