by Patricia Stewart | Aug 13, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
Approximately 800 light-years from Earth, the DSX-13 “dropped” out of hyperspace, and reentered conventional space-time. This was Earth’s first sojourn beyond the “local neighborhood” (100 light-year radius). It took fifteen jumps, and over two months, to reach the intended target, Zeta Orionis, a rare Type O, blue supergiant. The mission profile was simple: explore the system for a few weeks, collect some asteroid and comet samples, and return to Earth. However, when the DSX-13 was mapping the system, they detected an abandoned one-passenger spacecraft in orbit around a lifeless Class-M planet. The derelict ship was the first direct evidence of intelligent extraterrestrial life discovered in the 83 star systems explored thus far. To make room for the alien ship, all of the expendable equipment in the primary cargo hold was jettisoned into space. The alien ship was stowed in the cargo hold, and two months later, it was transferred to a secure hangar at a Top Secret base in North America.
Earth’s best scientists spent a year accessing the ship’s electronic systems and downloading the data into “The Brain,” Earth’s most sophisticated Mark VI supercomputer. Eventually, the Brain was able to translate the alien’s language and play the audio and video logs. The information contained within the logs terrorized the scientists to their very souls.
The alien ship belonged to an advanced race called the Alnitak. They were a fierce, super aggressive species that systematically plundered the resources of any world that they found, regardless of whether or not it was harboring life. Even sentient species were destroyed without the slightest consideration, because to the Alnitakians, they were less important than iron ore. In fact, indigenous intelligent life was considered a nuisance; to be disposed of as quickly as possible, in order to minimize interference with ground-based operations.
Since a dangerous alien species roaming the galaxy had serious survival implications, the scientists attempted to determine if the ship had been abandoned recently, or 100,000,000 years ago (perhaps indicating that the Alnitakians were now extinct). Unfortunately, a detailed analysis of the celestial positions recorded in the ship’s star charts revealed that the ship had been abandoned only a few decades earlier. In addition, the star charts also disclosed that the Alnitak sphere of expansion had a diameter of approximately 50 light years, and was expanding at a rate that would reach the Earth in about 200 years. This gave the scientists hope that there was time to prepare for the inevitable invasion.
The first order of business was to analyze the alien ship’s technology, in an attempt to advance Earth’s scientific knowledgebase, and to look for weaknesses in the Alnitakian’s defense capabilities. During an operation to remove access panels in the ship’s cockpit, a maintenance technician accidentally activated a switch on the instrument console. Seconds later, an alien voice was emanating from the ship’s speakers. The Brain was patched in to provide a translation. “Calling Fighter IDSG 2951413, your emergency distress signal was received. You are currently in an unexplored sector, but we are able to determine your coordinates. We are dispatching a rescue ship and fighter escort. Maintain your position. Help is on the way. ETA, six days.”
by submission | Aug 12, 2009 | Story
Author : Todd Hammrich
On his final day of work the robot A9327R activated with a slight jerk. He was quite pleased that today he would be done with his projects. Long ago he had been created to serve as the monument upkeep specialist and had quite a job set before him. They were old, full of historical significance (though that sort of thing was beyond his grasp) and they were falling apart. Now, he was happy to report, things were much better.
He knew of course that they were not completely restored, heavens no, but they were as good as his abilities allowed him to make them. More could be done, if he knew how to run the great machines and tools of his creators, but his skills were simple and his intelligence not great enough to learn anything else. A few more simple tasks and the drain on his power pack (it had gone far too long without recharging, but he found no masters to help) would be too much and he would deactivate for the last time.
With careful measured steps, conserving as much energy as possible A9327R began his march to the monuments. It wasn’t a long walk, but it was dangerous because the roads were full of debris and other hazardous materials. Not in his monuments though. Oh no, not there. Once on his grounds he emerged into another land. It was crisp and clean, plants neatly tended, pathways always clear of anything that may get underfoot, and it was a slice of perfection. And it was his area to tend. Indeed, having seen no one else for many, many years, it was possible his alone.
Slowly he made his rounds checking that everything was in place. Cleaning where he saw it needed it and ignoring that which would take too long. He had to make it to the little ones today, as they were his final project. He was right on time though and would be able to finish this one right. This memorial was newer than the others. It had been installed the last time he had seen his masters.
It was beautiful (or to his circuits it seemed) all made of marble and delicately done. There were 4 young children hands together playing a game. Though A9327R knew they were statues, like the one of the very tall man, he couldn’t help but feel awe in reverence of them (little masters as they were). The only problem was that for the past week, they had not moved, as they should, around and around in their little circle. So he had saved it for last, knowing it would be the last thing he would do.
For nearly three hours, a master of restoration, he worked. Gears were cleaned, cables tested, and electronics doubly tested. Finally A9327R climbed out and away from the children and waited while the power ran through its own checks and finally, ever so slowly, the children began to rotate in their little circle, like an endless game of tag. And A9327R made his way over to the closest bench and sat like a master with a sense of pride and slowly deactivated.
The children rotated merrily on their endless circle singing their soft song in a place dedicated to the dead. The place where the walls hold the dead heroes of its dead nation. The place where Lincoln and Jefferson and the tower of Washington stand, like sentinels watching over the ruined wasteland of Washington D.C. The children sang slowly:
Ring-a-ring o’ roses,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall …
by Duncan Shields | Aug 11, 2009 | Story
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
It was the physical changes that were the hardest to get used to.
I’m not just talking about the year of physiotherapy. I’m talking about the grey hairs. I’m talking about the soft skin. That and the gradual discovery that life had passed you by. People looked at you and nodded but that close trust was gone. The connection was severed. Parties, deaths, deals, power struggles, marriages, births. They’d all gone on while you slept. You showed up years later with canes and an older body.
There were no prison visits. There were no gyms. It was a snap of the fingers and they took years away. Parole for good behaviour didn’t exist. For guys that had been sentenced to really hard time, it was a slow execution.
You get caught, you go under. That had become the answer to the prison crisis. People were put on trial, sentenced, and given a shot. They were slotted into a sleep chamber in a penal hotel somewhere to carry out their sentence in a dreamless sleep. The liberals loved the humane aspect of it all, the conservatives loved the cruelty of it all, and the general populace had a nice, happy image of cons sleeping like babies. Everyone wins.
When a criminal’s time was done, they were woken up. The light on the front of their chamber changed from red to green with a little ‘ding’ sound, just like a toaster oven telling the cook that the pizza inside was done.
Muscles do a little shrinkage if you don’t move them for a few years, even with the electrical stimulus in the coffins. It’s really painful to get those muscles working again. It takes a long time.
But like I said, that wasn’t the hard part. I’d been under for twenty years. I went in when I was twenty-six. I’m forty-six now. When I went in, I had the body of an athlete. My memories were full of sex, murder, fights, and running from the cops in a body that did it easily. Those memories end, in my mind, about eight weeks ago.
I don’t recognize the cars or the fashions. I walk so slow.
I looked up my old gang friends. All dead except for three of them. Those three took pity on me and gave me some cash but I could tell from the look in their eyes that they’d never let me back into the syndicate.
I looked up my old girlfriends. Couldn’t find any of them. Names changed because they got married or they’d died as well. None of us led a good life out here. We all wanted to die young and most of us got our wish granted.
I feel like a ghost. Time to make some new friends. I don’t have the faintest idea where to begin.
I could feel the need to commit a crime and go back to sleep twisting around inside my head like a hot wire.
I felt too weak to deal with this new life.
by submission | Aug 10, 2009 | Story
Author : David Richey
“She’s amazing!” exclaimed General Perkins.
“Thank you very much, General.” Dr. Springmayer said as they looked through the observation window. “We’ve worked very hard to make her so. Having sixty years worth of classified government research and a bottomless budget backing you up doesn’t hurt either.”
“You know, I’d believe she was actually a human if I didn’t know better.”
“But she is human, General. Just because she is composed of organs that were grown in a lab doesn’t make her otherwise.” The doctor said with a smirk.
“And the hardware? What does that make her?”
“Better. It makes her much, much better.” He stated proudly. “Her strength is unbelievable. The living human skin does a great job hiding her “muscles”. She is able to lift five thousand pounds like it’s a bag of flour, she can run 45 m.p.h nearly indefinitely, and she needs almost no food because the amount of living tissue that she is composed of is so small. Besides that, having a hard drive where her brain should be means that she can download absolutely anything we want her to learn.”
“What’s she doing now?” the General asked.
“Her favorite hobby. She’s calculating pi. We allow her two hours of free time a day at the computer and that’s always how she chooses to spend it.”
“So when will we be able to show our investors the weapon that is going to keep the U.S. unstoppable on the battlefield? They are very interested to see what nearly a trillion dollars can build.”
Dr. Springmayer flashed a worried look. “Not just yet. We still have a few months worth of training and testing to do before we are ready to present her.”
“I’d like to meet her, Doctor.”
“I-I-I don’t think that now-“
“That wasn’t a request, Dr. Perkins! I am expected to report back to some very important people about how I think this project is going. Now, take me in there so I can meet her.”
Reluctantly, the doctor took his security card out and swiped it through the door lock. He led the General into the room where a woman, who didn’t appear to be over 25 years old, with red hair and fair skin, sat behind a desk, typing at an incredible rate.
“What’s her name?” the General asked Dr. Perkins.
“We have been calling her Sheree.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Dr. Perkins. But I believe that was your wife’s name.”
Looking at the floor, the doctor said quietly, “Yes, it was.”
The General, looking back to the young woman, said “It’s nice to meet you, Sheree.”
She stopped typing. Scooting her chair back, she stood up and turned around. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, General Springmayer.”
“Even her voice is convincing.” The General said. Then, with a puzzled look on his face, he asked “Why is her stomach-?” Then he stopped talking as he processed what he was seeing. Horrified, he asked “Dr. Perkins, please tell me she’s not…”
“Yes,” he said, ashamed. “She’s pregnant.”
by submission | Aug 9, 2009 | Story
Author : Ken McGrath
My body goes limp and it’s like floating, like there’s no gravity. Then I feel the zoom, my shoulders jerk back and I’m off.
Blood rushes to my head, fingertips scuttling like tiny crabs dancing over the keyboard, a whoosh by my eyes as the corners flash past in a blur of motion. My heartbeat starts to increase and I stabilise the craft, quickly selecting the icon I need.
There’s a click in the heart of my machine and gears shift upward, my angle straightens and I pounce forwards.
I feel the familiar kick as I crest that first hill, feeling the craft going airborne slightly and I hit the boosters, this time anticipating the push, the zoom and my stomach being sucked up into my lungs by the increasing pressure. Lights flash by as the track goes underground. Single pinpricks of white and red, yellow and orange stretching out, forming long continuous unbroken lines. They’ll direct me to my destination. Just stay inside of them I think calmly going over the familiar, rehearsed route in my mind.
I smile feeling the power beneath me, surrounding me, like I’ve become one with this machine. The guys in the garage would have some laugh if they heard me saying that and I’m sure the team psychologist would have a field day with it too. It’s true though, to a certain extent. You have to know your vehicle intimately, know how she’ll respond to any slight change in the terrain before you can seriously take part in a competition like this and I’ve spent so much of the past year working towards this moment. That was the engagement now this is the union, our bodies fused together by a series of straps, wires and buckles. Together we are complete. Right now we are one unit, with one goal, to complete this course in the fastest time possible.
Symbols flash up on my visor screen. For a fleeting moment the track ahead, pitch black apart from the comet-tailed guide lights is condensed and relegated to the bottom right of my vision. Both eyes work independently and my brain processes both sets of information simultaneously. There’s a lurch as the back of the craft glides too far to the left and the tunnel wall looms up terminally.
Like lightening I wrestle back control, using the spin to my advantage and we lunge forwards together. Sharp left, long, curving right, into the dip, accelerator held down firmly, a gentle tap and slight angling correction as I burst into sunlight and take the chicane. Inside my harness I lift slightly as the craft cuts smoothly through the air.
Focusing on the curves and turns I casually watch my timer creeping up on the race leader’s track-time. The chatter of voices in my helmet, issuing instructions and updates on my progress from the pit-lane are encouragement rather than distraction. Strapped in tight, the security harness keeping me locked in place, suspended inside this gyroscopic machine. This is freedom and I love it.
