Quality Time

Author : Peter Carenza

It was a special day; not merely because Bobby opened his eyes to an absolutely picture-perfect sunny surprise straight out of a travel brochure, but because he had been waiting for today for a long, long time. Rubbing the sleepy crust from his eyes, he swung his feet out of bed and ran nose first into a wall of sensory pleasure – the scent of still-sizzling bacon and eggs, browning toast, and Lord knows what else his parents might have conjured before dawn’s eruption.

Taking that as his cue, he jumped up, grabbed a clean shirt, and bounced out the bedroom door, practically fllinging himself down the stairs.

“Good morning, Bobby!” exclaimed Mom, always the first to spot things.

Dad looked up from his newspaper and grinned. Winking knowingly, he motioned to the hot food simmering on the stove, he said, “Help yourself, son. It’s your day! We’re gonna spend some quality time together!”

And of all days, this one was shaping up to be the most perfect.

It was planned for months, a chance for Bobby and his parents to bond, to spend some quality time together. For once, Bobby was asked what he would like to do, where he would like to go… it was as selfless a gift as he could have ever received, and though it happened only once every six months or so, it made him feel valuable, loved.

After a most scrumptious breakfast, one during which Bobby thoroughly stuffed himself, he scampered upstairs to get ready to go. He was pleasantly surprised, though it was typical of his Mom on special days like this, to find a brand new set of clothes beside his bed. Ecstatic, he slipped into his new clothes, stormed down the stairs just as his parents were ready to walk out the door — and so the day began.

This frame in Bobby’s scrapbook, this 24-hour spectacular, was better than any previous special days in his life. It was as if all the most pleasurable activities in a lifetime were crammed into a compressed capsule of time and space, and Bobby existed at its very center. Amusement parks… miniature golf… sumptuous meals…. Yet, like the persistent lap of the ocean waves against the glistening beach sand, all things in time and space ebbed and flowed. And like the deceptively sturdy-looking sand castle Bobby built that day at low tide, all things must soon pass. As the sun settled lower against the infinite horizon, the waves grew closer and closer to the shore and etched larger and larger pieces from the structure, until it finally collapsed.

Bobby heard his parents calling for him. He looked out at the ocean wistfully, silently sobbing under the gulls’ screeches, then turned and solemnly joined his mom on the way back to the car, his head resting against her hip, her hands stroking his sandy hair.

He was weeping uncontrollably by the time he was inside the car, his face red and swollen. He knew what was coming… the consolation, the pleading, before the syringe was pulled from the purse bearing the CDS logo… Cryogenic Disposition Services.

“Why? Why can’t you just find some other jobs or something?”

“Son, we’ve been through this before. We’re working to give you the life you never had, so that someday you and your kids won’t have to go through this.”

Tears blurring his vision, he helplessly watched as they pulled out the needle and injected him.

As he slowly faded into blackness, he wondered what special kind of life awaited him in return for this.

Quality time, indeed.

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Wings of Drifted Snow, Eyes of Flame

Author : J.R. Blackwell, Staff Writer

Lucifer Morningstar stepped out of his sleek black starship and smiled a sharp smile into the barrel of a particle gun. There were twenty armed guards in the hanger, four on the balcony and the rest on the ground, all of them with their sights on his chest.

Lucifer raised his hands, his sharpened silver nails glinting. “I was told this was to be a peaceful exchange,” he said.

A woman in red walked through the line of guards. “It is. I don’t think that I can be blamed for taking precautions. Your reputation is. . .well known.”

“I would hope it should be, Ms. Tirelle,” said Lucifer, holding out his hand. She ignored it. Lucifer laughed. “You want to get down to business? Very well, give him back. “

Ms. Tirelle shook her head. “No, not until you give us Annabelle.”

“Annabelle died on Earth.” Lucifer spread out his arms. “Her mind was scanned, judged and given to me for punishment. She was found to have quite a lot of sins on her soul.” He grinned, his teeth like knives. “Most of her sins were of a sexual nature.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “She’s not yours to judge Lucifer. She is a legal citizen of the planet Taurus. Unless you want the United Planets pulling down the walls of Hell, you’ll let us have Annabelle.”

“I’m sorry, the united government of Earth, Heaven and Hell, doesn’t acknowledge life on other planets.” Lucifer shrugged his slim shoulders. “But you have found our weakness, Ms. Tirelle. I know very well that you aren’t from the United Planets. If you were, you wouldn’t have resorted to kidnapping.”

“I could destroy you and your ship right now,” she said, hands clenched.

“You could, yes, but then you’d be killing your dear Annabelle as well. She’s on my ship.” Lucifer held up a hand. “If anyone makes an aggressive move against me, the ship will blow and there won’t be a shred of DNA left to rebuild Annabelle.”

“Then you do intend to make the trade.”

“I’ve always intended to make the trade, Ms. Tirelle, but I have to see him first.”

Ms. Tirelle nodded. “Very well,” she said and motioned with her fingers. A black coffin floated toward them. The top was slit with clear glass, under which Lucifer could see the olive skin, golden hair and snowdrift wings of the Archangel Gabriel.

“Open it.” said Lucifer. Ms Tirelle pressed her hands on the top of the coffin and it opened with a soft hiss. Gabriel inhaled sharply. His eyes were like flames, gold and orange.

“Morningstar,” He said. “I knew you were behind this treachery.” Gabriel took Lucifer’s hand and pressed it against his cheek. Their flesh sizzled against one another. “I knew it.”

Lucifer leaned into the coffin, his face close to the archangel. There was a flash of a long black tongue, a whispered word, Gabriel’s eyes closed.

Lucifer snapped his pale fingers and an imp came out of his starship, leading a woman in white robes with chains around her hands and neck. Lucifer picked a key from under his shirt and handed it to Ms. Tirelle. The key was hot to the touch.

“She’s yours,” he said.

Lucifer lifted Gabriel into his arms. The Angel’s wings brushed the grated floor.

“What are you going to tell him?” Asked Ms. Tirelle. “After all he’s seen, you cannot deny our existence.”

“He’ll be told it was a test of faith.”

“You’ll lie to him.”

“I’m the Prince of lies, Ms. Tirelle, it’s what I do.”

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Rags

Author : Grant Wamack

Coins, they’re thrown into the small pile that sits in front of a heap of dirty rags. The rags shift and the metal underneath shines in the dull afternoon light. It rises to its feet, specks of dirt fall to the ground, gears groan and its body creaks.

It slowly walks to the small shop down the road, with each step its body jerks awkwardly. When the android clerk turns, he recognizes the droid even though it’s covered in filthy rags. It’s a TX-1000. Outdated, pulled from the market ten years ago. They were “switched off,” melted down into scrap metal. Some escaped, most didn’t. The ones that did however were hunted down. This one must have slipped through the cracks. The clerk could hear the joints creak, as the rags approach the counter. They were drought dry, in dire need of oil.

Two wires taste each others lips.

Once….

Twice….

The third time ignites a spark. Each word a small explosion. “Oil, please.”

The clerk looks underneath the counter, grabs the bottle and sets it on top. “30 units sir.”

30 units are thrown on the counter. The clerk takes the units and slips them into the currency slot. “Would you like this in a bag?”

No more explosions, the words crackle, “Yes, thank you.” The rags walk out the shop, clutching the bag in its hand.

It wasn’t hard to imagine where the outdated droid would go. Pixels form on the screen of the clerk’s imago-screen. In the image, a pile of rags slump down against a brick wall. Red rocks surround the rags. They could have been rusted parts or bits of brick or both. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the bottle. The rags guzzle the black oil; till it trickles out the corner of its mouth.

A girl passes by and mistakes the oil for a tear. She bends down and wipes the oil away with her shirt. Her eyes are wide with liquid innocence. “All better.” Then she skips away. And for the first and last time, the rags taste humanity.

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Heat Death

Author : William Tracy

Call me Sarah. That was my name, in one of my lives.

I have the memories of many lives in me, you know. Male and female, old and young, short and tall, light and dark, human and not human. Presidents and ditch diggers, starship captains and desk jockeys.

I know I don’t look the part. A glittering biocomputer smaller than your fist, studded with tiny vernier thrusters, suspended on a web of particle collectors stretching ten meters across, drifting through the void around a fading star.

Buissard ramjets used to ply this space, you know. Vast electromagnetic fields funneled the interstellar hydrogen into the gaping maw of the furnaces driving the fusion engines.

That was eons ago. The ramjets are gone now. So is the hydrogen. Now I’m alone.

The universe is dying. As the universe expanded, the stars drifted apart until the heavens were emptied of their glittering grains of light. Heat death is setting in as the stars run out of fuel, and everything settles to the same temperature. I now cling to a failing sun, scraping what energy I can from its death throes.

It is a depressing way for everything to end.

But I remember why I am here. I am here to remember. I remember what no one else is left to remember. I remember hopes and dreams, joys and sorrows. I remember failures and triumphs, love and hate.

Humanity will not have lived in vain as long as someone is left to remember. I will live as long as I can, so I can remember. This is my task.

I will remember you.

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Phase I

Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer

Lachlan was vacationing with his parents in the Kakadu National Park in the Northern Territory of Australia when he spotted an object high in the sky that was slowly spiraling toward the ground. It took several minutes before it “landed” in a grassy field fifty meters away. The object was about a meter long, and five centimeters thick. It was bent in the middle like a boomerang. But it couldn’t be a boomerang, Lachlan thought; we’re the only people around for kilometers. Lachlan took the object back to his campsite to show to his parents. However, to his disappointment, they weren’t interested. His mother told him to get rid of it and wash his hands for supper. Instead, he hid the object in their tent. After supper, the family took a ten kilometer hike along the Katherine Gorge. When they returned, the exhausted Lachlan collapsed onto his cot and was sound asleep in less than a minute.

During the night, the tip of the boomerang-like object peeled open, and a slender twenty-centimeter long wasp-like creature crawled out. It was solid black, except for two large ruby-red eyes. But its eyes were not the compound eyes of an Earth insect. They were slotted, single-aperture eyes, like a reptile’s. The bioengineered creature was called a Guepe. It had been created by the Apocritian civilization from the planet Orion-IV. Approximately ten thousand Guepe had been systematically released over every land surface on Earth using aerodynamic pods designed to land softly. Their mission: To exterminate all of Earth’s large animals, as Phase I of the Apocritian Colonization Program.

The Guepe blinked rapidly as it surveyed its surroundings. Then, beating its oversized wings, it slowly lifted itself from the ground and flew over to the boy’s cot. In the cramped confines of the tent, the massive Guepe sounded like a distant propeller driven airplane. Although the three humans stirred, none of them woke up. After landing, the Guepe secreted a small amount of mild painkiller onto Lachlan’s upper leg, and then injected a paralyzing agent. The boy’s body went limp. Using its hollow “stinger,” the Guepe deposited twenty eggs into the boy’s thigh. It then flew over to the adults to repeat the process. It deposited fifty eggs into the mother, and seventy eggs into the father. With its first task complete, the Guepe flew out the open window, and landed on the apex of the tent. Off in the distance, it spotted several kangaroos. It took off in pursuit of the nearest one.

The heat and moisture in Lachlan’s body began incubating the eggs. They all hatched within a few hours. Almost instantly, the newly emerged larvae began gorging themselves on the living tissue of their paralyzed host. The carnivorous parasites ate continuously for several days; consuming everything but their host’s skin. The pupae then crusted over to begin their metamorphosis into adult Guepe. Two weeks later, fully formed Guepe chewed their way through the skin covered human skeletons. The Guepe were parthenogenetic; they didn’t need to find a mate, they only needed to find hosts for their eggs. Like a fleet of tiny helicopters ascending in formation, the Guepe rose above the shriveled carcasses and flew out of the window. This cycle would repeat itself, over and over again, for months. Within one year, every animal on Earth larger than a rat would be dead. Soon after, all the Guepe would die of starvation. When it was deemed safe, the Apocritian Planetary Engineering Team would arrive to begin Phase II.

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Vows

Author : Brian Armitage

They met with four hours left. He had hung up his cell phone and stared at it for a second, suddenly out of people to call. When he finally looked up, he saw her across the street, holding the same pose – wondering, he knew, if she had forgotten anyone, but slowly realizing that there was no one left.

He had to convince himself to wait for the commuter rail to pass – one car, only three passengers – before he dashed across the street to her. She pulled out of her reverie, and looked to him as he stopped a pace away.

“What’s the count?” she asked. She wasn’t afraid of him.

He glanced at his phone, suddenly urgent. “Four hours. Will you marry me?”

“Wh… yeah. Yes. Yes.” She nodded, looking anxious.

He laughed once, a single burst. “Thank you! I just… I don’t want to… be alone at-”

She nodded again, dropping her purse and taking his hand. “Go ahead.”

He leaned forward to kiss her.

She snapped her head back, tugged on his hands. “No! Wait. Vows.”

He winced. “I’m sorry! Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. Go ahead.”

“Okay. Our first fight.” They both laughed, and in a moment, he collected himself. “Okay. Um…” He took a deep breath, and held her gaze. Her eyes were bright blue. “I swear, by everything I am, that… I will protect you, and… stand by you… for the rest of our lives. Whatever happens, I am yours.” He swallowed hard.

She pressed her lips together, sobbed once, and said, “I… promise you that I will be with you for the rest of our lives. I will love you… with… everything. That I am. And nothing will separate us, ’till death do we part.”

Then, they kissed.

They jogged to a hotel a block away and grabbed a set of keys from the rows laid out on the counter. He held her in the elevator, pressed close with their eyes both shut tight. Once in the room, they made love recklessly. They laughed when they accidentally bashed their foreheads together, and clutched each other when they cried. Time crawled.

With ten seconds left, they sat together on the floor, leaning on the bed, wrapped in each other.

“Thank you,” he said, and the last tear blinked from his eye.

She smiled and squeezed him. “It was a good idea.” She lifted her head, and her smile shifted sideways. “I’m Melanie, by the way.”

He had to chuckle. “Jeff.” He removed one hand from her back and offered it to her.

She took it and shook. “Nice to meet you.”

They kissed, and the lights shut off. Along, they knew, with life support. Then, it was quiet. Much more so than either of them had expected.

After a minute, Melanie shuddered. “Honey?”

“Yes?”

She drew in her legs. “I’m cold.”

Jeff, without a beat, reached behind him and tugged the rumpled comforter off the bed, wrapping it snugly around himself and his wife. “Better?”

She closed her eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”

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