by submission | Oct 17, 2015 | Story |
Author : Tino Didriksen
The crying boy slunk down by the obelisk. “Everyone says you listen at these stones”, he whispered, “so if you really do exist, please take me away from here.”
To his surprise, the aliens whispered back, “why do you wish to fly amongst the stars, young one?”
“I tripped over my own shoelaces and everyone laughed at me, even my best friend Pete”, he sobbed. “You’re supposed to take people away who really want it, right? Well, I really want to go into space, away from everyone!”
“Those who can hear us, we allow that choice”, said the aliens, “but you are not yet able to make an informed decision. Remember us quietly, and come back when you are ready. Now go, your parents are getting worried.”
The young man hesitantly touched his hand to the obelisk. “Are you still here, or were you a figment of my imagination?”, he asked.
“We are still here. We are always here.”, the aliens replied. “You have come of age. Are you here with purpose in your heart?”
“Yes, but not for going with you just yet”, he sighed. “I got accepted to the finest university in the region, and started to wonder if a particular childhood fantasy really was one. No, I will first make my mark on the world, then return to dance amongst the stars.”
The middle-aged man hammered his fists on the obelisk. “Take me away from this blasted place”, he muttered. “The greedy bastards stole my invention, my chance to reach the stars in my own time, and locked me out of the program. I can’t take this corrupt world any longer. Let me walk amongst the stars…”
“We will do so if you are certain”, said the aliens, “but are you truly ready to depart, or are you blinded by anger? Do you count your children, your wife, in the corruption? Do you wish to disappear and let them forever wonder where you went?”
“I…”, the man stammered, “I, no…no, of course not. But it was within reach! A few more years, and the skip drive would have launched us out of this system”. He sighed heavily. “You are right, I will not abandon my family. Farewell, for now.”
The old man leaned heavily against the obelisk. “It is time”, he stated, “and you won’t talk me out of it today.”
“Our offer stands”, came the always steady voice of the aliens. “If you are of one mind, we will whisk you away to be amongst the stars.”
“Yeah yeah, I am of my own singular sound mind”, he scoffed. “I am old. My children are grown with families of their own, my wife long passed away, oh and I have several incurable age related ailments. If there was ever a time to fly away, this is it.”
“You will vanish”, the aliens warned, “and nobody will know where you went. Any hints of our involvement will be erased. Do you agree to our terms?”
“Agreed.”
On the dresser in the old man’s bedroom, a lamp shorted and caught fire. The automated suppression malfunctioned, causing only the airtight door to close, but leaving the window open. The man’s carefully hidden journal vaporized into the night in a superheated blaze, along with everything else in the room.
by submission | Oct 16, 2015 | Story |
Author : Suzanne Borchers
Larry 360 wished he could sigh.
Larry 360 checked again through his integrals and components. How could he hide his broken Integrating Unit?
The night before, Sigmund 4 (Larry 360 referred to him as Bossy) had said during Larry 360’s last work evaluation, “I am keeping my second to the left red eye on you. You are beginning to slow down production and that will not be tolerated.” Sigmund 4 peered closer, to squint all six probes at Larry 360. “This is your last chance and then it is the bin.”
Larry 360 had glanced over at the recycling bin. “No sir. I will assemble and disassemble like I was a Larry 720. No sir. You will see a new bot tomorrow.”
Larry 360 had rolled full speed to his bot-charger. He probably needed more power so he plugged himself into the supercharger overnight.
The next morning when he powered on, Larry 360 had a dome-ache and wished he could sigh. He rolled toward the assembly line which would be filled with Larry 720 bots who never wanted to sigh.
Perhaps he could meld the faulty units together so the synapse didn’t have to jump but could ooze to its pole. The thought made him doubt his AI. He must have a metaphorical screw loose. What could he do? He was metaphorically screwed.
Perhaps he should report his flaw to Bossy and hope to be sent back to the factory for a new part. No, he should probably just roll over to the recycling bin. Faulty bots were worthless in this recycle world.
Larry 360 tried very hard to sigh and failed.
He headed for his plug-in cubicle. Bossy’s second to the left red eye caught the attention of Larry 360’s dome eye. Next to Bossy stood a bot he had never seen before.
“You have been replaced by a Robert 01.”
What! Then Larry 360 noticed that all the cubicles were filled with Robert 01s and the Larry 720s were gone. No!
“You all have been decommissioned. The others are waiting for you in the recycling bin.”
“Yes sir.”
Larry 360 swiveled around and slowly moved toward the bin filled with the newer Larry models.
Larry 360 sighed.
He felt a spark fire within his defective unit.
What!
He stopped and sighed again. He felt power flow through his circuits.
Larry 360 rolled past the bin to exit into his new world.
Larry 360 wished he could laugh.
by submission | Oct 15, 2015 | Story |
Author : Morrow Brady
Like fireflies born from air, the HoloTV image morphed into view. Through its ethereal glow, lay scattered beer cans and ecig batteries. Everyone’s favourite reality show Joe’s Stake was about to start.
“Hurry up Honey, they’re plugging in the Joe!” said a grey bristled middle aged man nestling into a old brown sofa. He was quickly joined by a brandy haired lady in a chrysanthemum sun dress.
In 90 high resolution inches, the corpse of this week’s Joe appeared laid out on a rusty hospital bed. Through a shaking handheld camera, a red haired starlet welcomed her viewers. Carefully she reached behind the Joe’s ear and eased in the neon blue transmitter into the implant port.
Blue static snapped into view and slowly formed words in large white helvetica font.
REWINDLIFE
Moments passed until further words appeared.
PLAYLIFE
CURRENT HEALTH 100%
The words faded to grey and from nothing appeared a first person view from within an office toilet cubicle. News, stock reports and emails glowed on the walls of the toilet partitions under shameless LED.
The toilet seat automatically lowers and Joe turns around, undoes his belt and begins to sit.
The screen freezes and the following words appear.
BET?
“$1000 on 10%, I think its gunna be a stroke!” spat the Beard.
“No. I don’t think so babe. Its too early. Lets put $500 on 0%. It’s a fake hurt!”
PLAYLIFE
Joe’s view flashes red indicating extreme pain.
CURRENT HEALTH 95%
Together the couple winces a mixed emotion of shared empathy and financial loss.
Joe struggles to repeatedly rise, only to keel over, clutching his groin.
“Poor fella must have got caught under the auto lid” Beard yelled as they both fell about themselves roaring with laughter.
FASTFORWARDLIFE
Through a red tint, Joe descends to a large corporate entrance lobby with a revolving door.
The screen freezes.
BET?
“$200 says 10% on a door malfunction”
PLAYLIFE
A low resolution CCTV shows Joe entering the revolving door, only for its central spindle to shudder and send the dividing glass panels at speed on a rotating trajectory.
The camera zooms in as Joe is catapulted into the forecourt like shrink wrapped cheese.
CURRENT HEALTH 85%
“$2000! Hell yeah!” The drunken pair spill beer as they slap palms clumsily.
As bystanders gaze open-mouthed, Joe rises dazed, brushes away glass fragments and meanders off.
FASTFORWARDLIFE
A modest suburban home appears, tended by an aging ButlerDroid. Joe collapses on the couch and falls asleep.
Screen freezes.
BET?
“That Droid’s as old as the hills. $500 on 20% for a malfunction” yells Chrysanthemum Lady.
PLAYLIFE
CURRENT HEALTH 75%
“Bad luck baby, that was close” Beardy says, comforting her with a hand on the knee.
From darkness, red colour flicker as on-screen meters show Joe’s adrenalin is spiking.
Joe struggles to extract himself from the deepest folds of his sofa mechanics.
“Ooh no! The sofa auto-folded on him!”
Joe raises his crooked bruised body.
“He’s up! Oh yeah!” Beardy & Chrysanthemum leap to their feet in anticipation.
ButlerDroid carries Joe up a rusted staircase and near the top, the image freezes.
BET?
“$200 on a terminal overnight heart attack”
PLAYLIFE
From a darkened corner, across a dishevelled sofa, a staircase beyond carries an misshapen form. In the corner of the screen pops up a Droid Operating routine that flashes in red text.
MAXIMUM LOAD BREACH
The droid’s forward momentum slows to a backward teeter. As gravity takes hold, Joe and the droid crash desperately down the stairs. The HoloTV image fades to grey.
CURRENT HEALTH 0%
“Oh no!” They both spat in dismay as the closing credits show a mourning widow presented with the house winnings.
by submission | Oct 14, 2015 | Story |
Author : Kate Runnels
Saree had been sentenced to five hours on the alien planet where her crime had been committed. Where on any human controlled planet or sector, what she had done would not even be considered a crime.
And five hours. Five hours didn’t seem like that bad of a verdict, as she didn’t consider her actions a crime. It was a punishment that fit the crime – to her mind.
Being an xeno-anthropologist of a culture predating any currently existing culture by several millennia, Saree followed the evidence and the facts –
-but facts and evidence to an alien mindset, could be interpreted as superstition or magic or evil or a thousand other things.
Unwittingly, Saree had tread where she shouldn’t have and was now paying the price for, in her mind, a silly superstitious misunderstanding. Five alien hours to work off her crime under the watchful gaze of those same aliens she had wronged.
Five alien hours.
To be honest – the Rochocheh aliens who judged, sentenced and now watched her, understood human physiology better than she had expected. They knew humans could not stay awake for those entire five hours on their home world. Saree had been provided a place to stay and sleep, given plenty of food and water, but oh, how they worked her with menial labor.
Five hours hadn’t seemed a lot in her mind. For five hours anyone could endure almost anything. Saree wiped the sweat that was dripping down into her eyes and flicked the drops away from her. Squinting, she glared at the thick red sun that never seemed to move against the planets rotation. The planetary rotation was 175 earth days to a single rotation on the home world of the Rachocheh.
Saree stared across at the alien overseer. Once she’d served her five hours, she would leave here and would never be back, no matter what evidence she followed for her job. She’d stay in humancentric sectors, even to the point it limited her research and her career.
Saree didn’t care. She’d learned her lesson and learned it well.
by submission | Oct 13, 2015 | Story |
Author : Brad Crawford
{BLINK}
There it went again. This time he noted the time and severity of the event. For the last two days or so, Dr. Samuel Coughlin, world-renowned physicist had experienced a strange phase in/phase out effect. It started with a gradual feeling as though he was insubstantial, ethereal if you will, and the sensation progressed to where he momentarily lost his vision, but then suddenly he was fine again. Afterwards, it was though nothing had happened, and he was still actively participating in what he had been doing before. An odd “blink”, that was the only way he was able to describe it to friends and associates. To try and make sense of the madness, his wife kept watch over him during one such event. She said that he briefly flickered, then his eyes went completely dark, as though blind for a couple of seconds. But she could discern no other ill effects from the blink. The miracle in all of this was that so far he had not experienced the blink during a time when cognitive processes were critical to his survival, such as during his daily commute.
Nine seconds; this last time was the most noticeable, and the longest incident of something not being quite right since the infernal blinking began. It was impossible to predict when it might happen again, or even if it would at all. Sam just knew that everything had an origin, and a trigger. Something that caused its beginning, and something to initiate all subsequent occurrences. All he remembered was that he had been researching time travel in his laboratory the day before it started. It started as a plain, ordinary day and remained so up until his final machine check. He had thoroughly checked and debugged each line of code, routinely investigated the wiring, verified the stability of his fusion generator, realigned the time refractors, and then there was a tremendous boom followed by a power surge. Wait a minute…..{BLINK}
As they pried open the bunker door melted shut during the intergalactic wars, Affar-JalTin mused, “makes you wonder how long the computer has been rebooting this rudimentary time machine. It would have been constructed shortly before the hostilities started, and it’s a shame that whoever built it never got to see if it actually worked.” Underneath a thin layer of dust, the dim readout still showed the last setting was to travel 56 hours in the past. Menka Jehn shook his head, “So glad they sent us to find items like this. There’s no telling what kind of havoc this thing might play in the wrong hands. You know, It’s sad, and little creepy; almost as if you can still see a faint, shadowy image making final adjustments. Come on, let’s deactivate this thing and go home…”
{BLINK}
