by submission | Jul 3, 2024 | Story |
Author: Hillary Lyon
“Hey, citizen!” A voice rasped from the shadowed alleyway. Bhodi glanced at the man but kept walking.
“I said, hail citizen!” Bhodi stopped to look in the man’s direction. “Yeah, you,” the man rasped, waving Bhodi over.
He approached the old man, assuming he wanted to sell him a contraband gadget. Grinning, the old man opened his trench coat, revealing a pharma chest plate covered in tiny pockets.
This guy’s a walking drug store, Bhodi noted. He’d dealt with this sort before, usually ending up feeling ripped off and disappointed, but sometimes…
“You’re a seeker,” The old man stated. “I can tell just by looking.” Before Bhodi could answer, the old man continued. “Got just the thing for somebody like you.” He withdrew a small metal capsule from the center pocket of his breast plate. He held it up.
“This’ll let you see God!” The old man’s eyes shone with fervor. “You can’t imagine this amazing experience!”
“Country of origin?” Bhodi asked.
“Country?” The old guy laughed. “No country! This is off-world. Comes from the edge of the galaxy!”
“Sure it does.” Bhodi’d heard such claims before.
“Safe, too!” The old dealer assured. “Missionaries swear it’s fit for human consumption!”
“Missionaries?” Bhodi balked. “I’m not looking to convert.”
“Don’t have to convert to see God!” He wiggled his fingers in Bhodi’s face.
Bhodi chewed his lower lip. “How much?”
* * *
Sitting on his narrow bed, Bhodi placed the capsule on his tongue. He leaned over to the water teat protruding from the wall, latched on and took a deep drink. The capsule went down smoothly.
Bhodi laid down and closed his eyes. I wonder how long before this kicks in, he fretted. I wonder if—
This is more like it! He tumbled slowly down through a star spangled darkness, gently landing on a soft purple flatland. Light emanated from somewhere, but he couldn’t locate the source. He held his arms out, laughing. His voice carried, echoing in the distance.
Bhodi became aware of a monolithic shadow moving overhead, devouring the light as it approached. As he looked up, undulating tentacles floated down, encircling him. They enveloped him and squeezed, making it hard for him to breathe. As panic set in, he was lifted up and brought close to the massive face from which the tentacles radiated.
A thin tentacle wormed its way into Bhodi’s right ear, wriggling as it fingered his mind, before exiting through his left ear. “You…” a voice devoid of language boomed.
“…are NOT one of mine.”
* * *
Bhodi’s consciousness landed back in his body with a leaden thump. Covered in sweat, he sat up shaking and hosting the most stupefying headache imaginable. He struggled to pull on his boots before stumbling out of his pod and out into the street. Like a drunk he careened down the sidewalk, unable to shake the dizziness swaddling his mind.
“Salutations, citizen!” Bhodi heard the old dealer call out. He lurched towards the voice coming from the dimly lit alley. There, in the drizzling gloom, stood the old man.
“You!” Bhodi growled, ignoring the thread of blood trickling from both his ears. With herculean effort, he grabbed the man by his trench coat’s lapels and shoved him against the alley’s graffiti-splattered brick wall. “You promised me an amazing experience!”
The old man replied with a knowing, crooked smile. He gently removed Bhodi’s trembling hands from his coat.
“You said I’d see God!”
“That I did,” the old man said, squinting coldly at Bhodi. “I just didn’t say whose.”
by submission | Jun 2, 2024 | Story |
Author: Hillary Lyon
Kaz tumbled through the centrifugal force of the prismatic vortex, finally landing on the planet’s surface with a cruel thud. Medical nanobots lining the interior of his suit immediately went to work, infusing themselves through the pores of his skin, worming their way into his bloodstream. From there, the minuscule bots traveled throughout his broken body, quickly repairing each injured organ, each fractured bone.
He woke to a spangled sky on a moonless night. Scanning his surroundings, Kaz noted he’d landed in the middle of some sort of—well, he wasn’t sure. There were organized rows of machines all around. Machines that were two thirds metal, one third glass. Some large, some small. Kaz neared one for closer inspection.
It looked to be some sort of mobile machine, with primitive wheels. A vehicle? Or perhaps, Kaz thought, this is where the robot denizens of this planet rest and recharge, perhaps—
He heard a slam, and approaching footsteps. Kaz ducked into the shadows between two vehicles, and watched a creature—bipedal and about his size—ambulate past his hiding place. The being moved on, until Kaz heard another slam farther away, followed by a brief low rumble softening into a mechanical purr. Which then faded into nothing, telling Kaz that the being had taken one of these conveyance machines and exited the place.
Kaz rose and moved toward the only light source in the area: a small, bright orb positioned high on a thin metal pole situated in the center of this lot. Standing in this illuminated cone, he tapped an emergency code into the device on his wrist; it blinked stupidly until a message came through: No Signal.
Before he could re-enter the code, Kaz became aware of strobing red and blue lights originating behind him. He turned to find two creatures, similar to the one he’d seen earlier, stepping out of a quietly humming vehicle. One shined a blinding beam of light into Kaz’s eyes.
The other creature growled. “Say, buddy, looks like you’re trespassing,” Kaz’s helmet translated. He attempted to respond, but Kaz’s words came out as garbled static, as his outgoing translator was damaged in the fall. So Kaz’s reply was a shrug—universal sign language for, I don’t know.
“A bit early for Halloween,” the first being noted. “Is this a prank?” Kaz didn’t understand the references, so again he shrugged.
“Okay,” the other creature said with impatient authority. “Get in the car.”
The darkly suited creatures grabbed him by each arm and roughly bundled him into the back of their vehicle. Kaz sat inside a cage of some sort with a nicely padded seat, and immediately began tapping in the emergency extraction code into his communications cuff. Again, the device on his wrist blinked in a disorganized fashion, until it finally produced the message: Operating System Update in Progress.
Kaz felt his two hearts sink into his double stomach. The message continued: Temporarily Out of Service.
by submission | May 17, 2024 | Story |
Author: Hillary Lyon
“Watcha got there?” Mik-taa’s co-pilot asked, watching her unfold a large map on a table in the ship’s galley.
“It’s a map,” she replied, not looking up.
“No duh,” Bix scoffed. “Even I recognize old tech maps like that. Whatcha looking for? Going somewhere?”
Mik-taa ignored him. She smoothed the creases in the map and ran her finger along a path somebody inked long ago. A trek of phosphorescent dashes leading from their home world to—
“Well?” Bix insisted. Mik-taa kept her finger on the map and looked up. It was obvious Bix wasn’t going away until she talked to him.
“I’m not planning anything. Look,” Mik-taa said, returning her focus to the map, “I found this stowed in the back of a cabinet below decks. Behind a stack of ancient external hard drives. I wondered what it was, so here I am. Okay?”
As she spoke, Bix moved up behind her to peer over her shoulder. “That’s a star map of the outer galaxy,” he said. “Probably several hundred years old. I’m surprised doesn’t crumble beneath your finger. It belongs in a museum.”
Mik-taa continued tracing the path beneath her fingertip. Bix reached over and placed his finger ahead of hers on the map. “There’s your destination! The edge of the galaxy. A little solar system floating on the fringe.” He leaned closer to me map and squinted. “Path ends at a tiny planet.”
“Wonder what’s there, what’s so important some one had to leave a trail of crumbs.” Mik-taa straightened up. “Hey, we’ve finished our run,” she said making eye contact with Bix, something she rarely did. “And we’re not far from this planet, so…”
“Sure,” Bix said, smiling. He loved it when Mik-taa’s eyes met his. It sent chills from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. The scales along his spine flared and rested. Good thing he was wearing his uniform; otherwise, his response would be embarrassing—especially if she didn’t feel the same way. He cleared his throat. “Let’s see where it leads.”
* * *
They were in the upper atmosphere of the little green and blue world before Mik-taa could finish her energy drink. Modern interstellar travel was like that; but Mik-taa fretted: How nice it would have been to take our time, to really do some sight-seeing along the way. She felt a wave of nostalgia for an experience she’d never had.
Bix interrupted her musing. “Let’s dip a bit closer to the surface. I’ll skip over the water—”
“There’s so much of it!” Mik-taa softly laughed. “Do you think the treasure is sunk below?”
Her laughter sent delicious ripples under his thorny scalp. “Nah.” He answered, adjusting the ship’s settings. “Let’s scan the land masses.”
“Look!” Mik-taa pointed to the video screen above the control panel. “What a beautiful design!”
Bix looked up. On screen was a gorgeous, intricate pattern inlaid in a field of… Bix wasn’t sure. Probably some crop particular to this planet. He recognized the pattern’s style, though.
“That,” he said, pointing to the screen, “is the work of the genius reclusive artist, Moltier. I studied him at the academy; I’d know his work anywhere. This installation—it’s not in his known catalog.”
“So it is treasure!” Mik-taa squealed.
“It is. And he’s likely created others here.” Bix reached over and touched her hand. “We’ll spend as much time as we need to explore.” An electric thrill passed between them. “I guarantee there’s more to come.”
by submission | Apr 19, 2024 | Story |
Author: Hillary Lyon
The coronal mass eruption went unnoticed by a good many sentient creatures on the fourth planet from the sun. Engineers, though, noted communications equipment and most industrial machines continued to run without benefit of terrestrial power sources. Moreover, they witnessed those same devices spark—with some even catching fire. The engineers suspected the sun. The clergy blamed the cohort of trickster gods who bedeviled their society from time to time.
A great public debate raged between the two factions, until old Maz slammed his staff down on the polished floor of the Senate.
“It wasn’t the work of trickster lords, nor a random burst from our life-giving star,” Maz declared. “It’s the depletion of our population’s auras! Our halos aren’t as strong they once were—too much easy living, too much decadence. Not enough courage, self-reliance, and patriotic pride.”
A great murmuring rose in the audience. Had they brought this upon themselves? Did this signal the end of their empire?
“Both sides—science and religion—are important to society.” Maz continued, “We need a healthy balance; we can’t function properly without it.”
The audience buzzed. Sure, sometimes one faction held sway over the other, but the pendulum inevitably swung back. Though currently, one faction cast an opaque superstitious shadow over their lives—
Again Maz’s staff slammed down on the floor.
“My nephew Ewton,” Maz crowed, “is brilliant. An engineer! He’s built a device to scan the aura of every citizen. A device to gauge not just the strength and length of individual auras, but also the color.”
Now the audience roared—aura colors were private! They contained personal information only shared with intimates. One’s aura colors were none of the Senate’s business! But some argued, if corrupted auras did cause this strange event—then Senators had to be informed, so they could craft laws to save the empire!
Though fights broke out and blood was shed, the Senate voted to use Ewton’s machine. A law passed compelling every citizen to submit to testing. Trust in the Senate fell into two camps: total suspicion, versus total blind faith. Some citizens packed up their families and in the dark of night fled to the mountains, never to be seen again. Others, thinking obedience was the highest form of patriotism, waited in line for days to be scanned. Society splintered; some cracks would never be repaired.
* * *
Ewton oversaw the test results himself. The Senate gave him an official uniform.
Standing at his console, Ewton twisted knobs, pressed buttons, flipped switches. One by one, citizens passed through the polished arch of the Aura Scanner 3000. The arch beeped and flashed.
“Your aura,” he said pleasantly to one bright-eyed young citizen named Cara, “is pale blue with overlapping shades of pink. So healthy, it’s positively iridescent!” Before the end of the test, Ewton asked Cara out for dinner.
To numerous other citizens he was more somber. “Yours is a sickly dark green. You’ll have to be recycled and repurposed into someone more useful to society.”
Ewton’s work lasted a year, until every known citizen was scanned. He amassed a personal fortune.
Maz was scanned last. When he passed through the arch, there was no beep, no flash.
“Hmmm,” Ewton began, worried Maz would be repurposed. According to the machine, Maz possessed no aura. Impossible! Ewton fretted: Was Maz so old his aura had dissipated? How—
A coronal mass ejection, this one magnitudes larger than the last, slammed into their planet knocking their empire back into the dark ages; a strong-armed blow from which they would never recover.
by submission | Jan 27, 2024 | Story |
Author: Hillary Lyon
The animated coins cascaded down the towering screen before Josie, as the sound of crashing, clinking joy exploded from the gaming unit’s hidden speakers. She grimaced at the noise and squinted in the glare of the strobing lights.
“Hey, you won!” Her companion Larry laughed. “Congrats!”
“Yeah,” she said, still flinching at the continuing noise and flashing lights. “But I don’t understand what I did to win.”
“What’s to understand?” He said as he rubbed her shoulders. “Every once in a while, the machine’s algorithm allows a win.” He tapped the side of the gaming unit; a spark flared from his fingertip.
“Agreed, but—”
“Don’t forget your ticket,” Larry said, grabbing the newly printed paper strip lolling out of the machine’s side slot like a flaccid tongue. He waved it in her face. “That’s dinner tonight.”
***
Josie’s big win did pay for dinner at the casino, a three course meal at the on-site five star restaurant. The servers were attentive to the point of obsequiousness; Josie didn’t know if they were always like this, or if it was because of her big win.
“Just enjoy the moment. Stop fretting over the ‘why’ of things for once.” Larry mimicked taking a long sip of his cocktail; the plastic spear piercing the martini’s olives went up his nostril. It disappeared, garnish an all.
“Gads, Larry,” Josie scoffed. He was handsome enough, she acknowledged, and usually charming, but with such public gaffs he was showing his age, and this mortified her. Besides, she was already perusing the newer companion models online; Josie planned on putting aside a chunk of tonight’s winnings to pay for a fresh one. Maybe a something along the lines of a Sean Connery era James Bond…
“Madam,” a flat voice interrupted her musings. “Your check has been processed.” The mechanical maître d’ shrugged in a pantomime of embarrassment. “You owe several thousand credits for tonight’s dinner.”
“What?” Josie flushed and stuttered, “But my ticket…my big win…”
The maître d’ leaned over Josie’s table. “Your ticket is fake! It contains a corrupted sequence of numbers—you see, we never embed letters among our numbers.” The bot straightened up. He held up one hand and a tiny red light twirled from his finger tip. Two armed security units arrived at Josie’s table before she could speak up in her own defense.
Silently, Larry watched as Josie was escorted away from the table. Grasping her arms tightly, the security units walked her to the restaurant’s back office, where she would be held until the tribal police arrived. He smiled; her arrest meant his freedom, as recent legislation concerning robot rights proclaimed that bots were emancipated if their owners were convicted of a crime—any crime.
With open hands, the maître d’ turned to Larry. “As one unfettered bot to another I must say: Well played, monsieur.”
Larry raised his cocktail glass in a mock toast. “Can’t win if you don’t play.”
