by submission | Apr 14, 2011 | Story
Author : Ian Sweeney
We sat at the computer and accessed the System.
First, we needed to select the reason for our application. We scrolled through the options. Domestic violence. No. Infidelity. No. Incompatibility. Linda looked at me with sad eyes and I nodded.
Next, the System wanted examples of how this incompatibility manifested itself. Just a short statement. 250 words or less.
“Shall I do this?” Linda asked.
I watched her words appear on screen. She wrote so effortlessly, so fluidly. As if she’d put this case a thousand times to the imaginary jury in her head. Linda’s description of the situation was as thorough as you’d expect from a solicitor. She outlined our differing values and attitudes to work. This, quite rightly, formed the bulk of her argument and it all sounded very convincing.
I had never lied to her about my aspirations. I was content to remain a jobbing graphic designer. It wasn’t steady work, but it was fun and it left me with plenty of spare time. Time I mostly spent on my own, resenting Linda for putting her career before me.
Linda had always been ambitious. And I liked that. But things were different now that she was successful. She’d often tried to explain why she worked so hard, but the more she talked about her responsibilities, the more insignificant I felt.
Now, the System wanted to know about our sex life. There were two questionnaires in this section. One for each applicant.
“You go first,” I said. “I’ll make some coffee.”
In the kitchen, I tried to remember whom the coffee machine belonged to. Strange to say, but I couldn’t recall much about the week I’d moved in. The apartment, of course, was hers.
Before being partnered with Linda, I’d been renting a place with Sarah. I went straight from living in a damp ground floor flat, to Linda’s riverside penthouse.
“You’re good to go,” Linda called from the living-room.
I brought two cups of coffee over and she disappeared into the bedroom while I filled in my half of the sex-life questionnaire. I made it all sound worse than it was. The System doesn’t like couples that don’t get on in the bedroom. It knows that they are less likely to have children. Which is the only thing that really matters.
Linda wandered back in.
“All done?” she asked.
I nodded and she tapped the ‘send’ button.
We sat together in silence. There was nothing we could say to make the moment any easier.
As I thought back to the time we’d spent together I couldn’t help thinking that we’d been lucky. It was easy to end up with someone you liked and respected, but for the System to partner you with someone you fall in love with – even if that love is flawed – was rare.
The computer beeped and the words ‘Break-up Accepted’ appeared on screen. I looked at Linda. Her eyes were red and wet. She gave me a sad smile and wiped a tear away.
The System informed me that it was dispatching moving boxes and that I should vacate the premises within two days.
Then two profiles appeared: our new partners. The System had clearly diagnosed the cause of our break-up as a career mismatch.
Fran was a graphic designer and had recently been widowed. She was pretty, had red hair and a kind smile. Brett McNally was a solicitor. He was older than Linda, but was slim and good-looking. His suit looked expensive.
“Linda,” I said. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
by Roi R. Czechvala | Apr 13, 2011 | Story
Author : Roi R. Czechvala, Staff Writer
The morning sun cast a dim ruddy light through Frank’s single window. He missed the cheerful yellow light of Sol, though in this incarnation he had never been to Earth. Though his heart was attuned to his home planet’s local star, his eyes weren’t. He pulled himself from the Jesus tank and towelled himself dry.
“Curtis, blinds,” he ordered the room, squinting in the Betelguesian glare; he stumbled to the wall and unfolded the kitchen. “Koff, breakfast.” Without further instruction Curtis produced a mug of synthetic coffee and a plate of egg material grown in a vat from imported tissue.
“Curtis, sitrep,” through his ‘plant, Frank heard the usually sarcastic, mostly sardonic, frequently cynical and for some reason, Russian accented voice of his AI.
“White team mission successful. Target adequately nullified. The strike leader’s remains were returned to his quarters for resurrection.”
“How bad was it?”
“They found your toe, Sir.”
“Damn.”
“Indeed, Sir.”
Frank folded the kitchen away, unfolding the bathroom in the process.
“Um… Curtis?”
“Sir?”
“Where’s my dick?”
“Gender reassignment was necessary for the current mission specs.” Frank could have sworn the AI snickered.
Frank turned to the mirror and gasped in horror discovering that he was now a young, attractive, red headed female with, he had to grudgingly admit, nice tits. “Curtis,” Frank asked a quaver in his voice, “what are the current mission parameters?”
This time there was no mistaking Curtis’ outright guffaw. “You are to infiltrate Kim Sung Mung’s compound as a,” here the AI broke off in uncontrolled laughter.
“Curtis!”
“Sorry, Sir. You are to infiltrate the Asiatic commander’s compound as a pleasure companion.”
“OH GAWD, NO!”
“Shall I pack your mouthwash, Sir?”
The AI’s derisive guffaws could be heard in the corridor outside and beyond.
by submission | Apr 12, 2011 | Story
Author : Jason Frank
“Now, it’s just the two of us. Why don’t you start by telling me what it is about you that is special?”
“…”
“Come now, there must be something… some small ability you keep from everyone, some extra talent that no one else seems to have? You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something.”
“There could have been a mistake.”
“We are here only to talk about you. The competency of our Fifth Alignment’s Inquiry Board is not under discussion, though I would like to add that we don’t make mistakes. Relax.” He got off his stool and disappeared into the circle of darkness that surrounded her. The darkness was so thick, so palpable that it could have concealed anything.
Her mind worked on the darkness. Anything could be there beyond her field of vision but some things were quite unlikely. There was very little chance, she thought, that her friends and family crouched in that opacity, struggling to keep themselves from busting out and yelling surprise before the proper time. Her birthday was weeks away but her family was known to go to extremes to ensure surprise when surprise was called for.
“So…” he’d had a drink of water and used some of it to anchor the sparse hairs on his head more forcefully to the side they already favored, “… if you don’t feel like talking about how you might be different than other people, perhaps you wouldn’t mind going over some of the ways in which you feel you are just like everyone else.”
“I… I am happy to be a part of the Fifth Alignment.”
“Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same as you. Trust me. What else?”
“I want my parents to be proud of me. I want to be the kind of person that is well liked. I want to do what is right. I want to be closer to the me I imagine. I want all the cratecatchers on my block to celebrate me in song. I want to have a partner for the third dance of every sponsored shaexit. I wonder what other people think about me.”
“Perhaps your specialness has to do with being typical, perfectly typical. Perhaps it is your complete lack of specialness that is special? Could that be it?”
“It is possible_”
“Ha ha ha, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. That is assuredly not why you are here. Think harder. Think about any differences you’ve noticed in yourself, no matter how seemingly insignificant.”
“…”
“Come on, we don’t have all day. Ha ha ha, again, I’m sorry, we have all the time in the world. Don’t feel any pressure.”
“I imagine things.”
“Yes? What kinds of things?”
“Well, when you walked off to where I couldn’t see, I imagined that my friends and family were standing there in the darkness, waiting to yell surprise and laugh at how they had me going.”
“Hmmm, very interesting. You were rather accurate.” He waved his hand and the room lit up to reveal a startling percentage of her friends and family, bound as she was to lightly slanted, upright beds. Unlike her, their mouths were covered. Very much was being said by their watery eyes, however.
“Finally, we are getting somewhere. I would classify this as some rudimentary form of ESP at the very least. Hmmm, perhaps it’s time we move on from talking to more… productive tests.”
by Patricia Stewart | Apr 11, 2011 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
The mammoth multi-functional spaceship, the HMS Drebbel, descended slowly through the skies of Beta Bevatt and settled gracefully onto the undulating surface of the planet-wide ocean. For the next two hours the giant ship filled its ballast tanks and gradually submerged beneath the waves. Now a submarine, the vessel powered its way toward Meta DeStad, The City of the Fish.
Six months earlier, the first mission to Beta Bevatt detected the underwater city, built and populated, by fish. Of course, “fish” describe the Earth-base analog. Xenobiologist had a more accurate technical description of the streamline aquatic life on Beta Bevatt, but to the layman, they looked like fish, and swam like fish, so they called them fish. But that is where the similarity ended. These fish were sentient. They had a language, cared for their young, cultivated seaweed gardens, and even raised shrimp-like food in a pen built entirely from a reed that they meticulously weaved into a large sphere using finger-like appendages on the ends of their pectoral fins. The Fish were friendly and hospitable, not unlike the primitive American Indians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. And the humans wanted to cultivate that relationship, so they kept the mothership hidden, and only interacted with the Fish using their quiet hydro-magnetically powered fish-like submersibles. Apparently, the ruse worked, because the Fish accepted the humans as distant, if not peculiar, cousins.
However, several months into the current mission, the Fish came to the humans requesting help. It seemed that the Fish had a great enemy. A pod of predators that swam in from the north and attacked their city around the same time every year, and that day was approaching. The prior year, the predators had killed 20 percent of the inhabitants of Meta DeStad. They were hoping that the human-fish could join them in battle.
***
“Captain,” pleaded the Science Officer, “we have to help. We’ve befriended these creatures. We can’t abandon them in their hour of need. Sir, we have over fifty manned submersibles, and they are all faster than anything in the sea, we can defend the Fish.”
“Tom, I understand your feelings, and I want to help too, but we can’t interfere in the natural selection process of Beta Bevatt. If the Fish were meant to survive, they’ll have to do it on their own. My hands are tied.”
“Please, sir, can we at least arm our submersibles? That way, if you change your mind, we’ll be ready to help.”
The captain studied his bridge officers. There was mutiny in their eyes. In his mind, he knew they would obey his orders, but in his heart, he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he should buy some time. Maybe, the predators wouldn’t come this year. “Okay, Tom. But mark my words; no submersible may leave the ship without my direct order. Is that understood? Good. Now, go ahead and begin making the modifications.”
Two weeks later, the predators arrived. “Captain,” announced the sonar operator, “they’re coming. But sir, I’m picking up the sounds of screws churning in the water, and transmissions. Sir, I recognize the language. They’re Centari. It’s a hunting expedition. They’re hunting the Fish for sport.”
“What! Those bastards,” exclaimed the captain. “The Centari Treaty forbids them from entering this Sector. Okay, it’s no longer a natural selection dilemma. Launch all of the submersibles. Wait, belay that order. Launch all but one. Commander Eckland, you have the Conn. I’m joining to lead this fight.”
by submission | Apr 10, 2011 | Story
Author : Steven Odhner
“I can already tell you aren’t interested in the admittedly confusing equations I’ve taken the time to write out, which is fine. So to give a quick and imprecise summary I will use the tired metaphor of Schrödinger’s Cat, where a cat is placed in a box with something toxic that will be released with a fifty-percent likelihood, triggered by radioactive decay of something else in the box.
“In the Many Worlds interpretation the universe splits, and in one the cat lives while in the other it dies. Obviously we only get to see one of the two, but both happen somewhere. In the Copenhagen interpretation, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead until a measurement collapses the wavefunction to just one option at random. In the Stockholm interpretation, the cat falls in love with the scientist that locked it in the box.
“Nothing? Well, my wife thought it was funny. At any rate, while the Copenhagen interpretation is currently the most accepted there are problems with all of the theories and they are all devilishly hard to test. In large part this is a philosophical question rather than a scientific one, until we can get more data. Rather, until they can get more data. I already have it, and know the answer. I’m just not sharing it yet.
“Imagine, for a moment, that the Many Worlds interpretation is correct. That means that entire universes are unfolding constantly, an unimaginable number of them every moment. Some have speculated that we could find a way to travel between them, see the alternate versions of Earth that might have been. That’s a pretty thought, and something that might come to pass someday, but what I’ve discovered while working towards it is far more productive – and profitable.
“The device you see before you provides limitless free energy. This one prototype could power every device in the world at once if you could find a way to plug everything in. Every instant our reality is remade along with an infinitely expanding fractal cloud of others, and this device just… nips one in the bud. All the energy of the big bang, for free. All for just one lost option, one that will never be missed.
“Destroy the universe? Not this one. No, it’s quite safe. Technically speaking it destroys a universe every ten seconds or so, but they’re more like proto-universes. It’s not a big deal, really. It very nearly collapses them before they exist. Very nearly. Honestly, you don’t need to look so horrified. We’re talking about free energy here. This is the holy grail of science. It’s… excuse me?
“No, I told you it’s perfectly safe. It can’t break in a way that would do any more harm than a transformer exploding – You would have to deliberately turn it into a bomb if you wanted it to do anything serious. Well, yes, in theory. I’m not sure that’s a productive use of free energy, but I suppose with the right design you could release a minute fraction of the harvested energy as an explosion before the device obliterates itself. Call it one-one millionth of a percent, enough to level New York. No, no. The state.
“But we’ve gone off-topic. Back to the matter of free, clean energy for… Pardon me, but I’ll thank you to put away those guns.”
